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 Goodheart and the Pagan Princess, an erotic novel by Dern Goode

   GOODHEART AND THE PAGAN PRINCESS

   by

   DERN GOODE

   Copyright (C) 2002 by Dern Goode

   CHAPTER NINE

   I AM MISTAKEN FOR A GOD

   Somehow, I slept through the night.  The next morning, I wandered
through the jungle.

   I could find no path or discernible trail.  Under the dense canopy of
trees there was not even a horizon to take a bearing on, and I found myself
simply meandering in circles.  I was hungry, and I was sure the lush growth
held many items of nourishment, but I was afraid to experiment, not knowing
the difference between something healthful and something poisonous.  It was
mid-morning when I finally gave in to the needs of my bladder and stopped
to urinate in the bushes.

   There was a scream behind me, and I turned with my prick still in hand
spouting pee.  A naked black woman stared at me in shock, her eyes locked
on my cock as the piss stream dribbled to a stop.

   "Zogli!" she cried "Zogli!"

   I dropped my cock and reached toward her, but she ran into the jungle
screaming that single word over and over again.  "Please!" I shouted,
stuffing my prick into my pants as I chased her.  "Wait!  Help me!"

   She didn't stop, but she was easier to follow than the warriors of the
previous day.  I trailed behind, feeling elated now, sure that she could
lead me to my objective.  For the god whose aid she was imploring so
vociferously was the very one I was seeking.

   Something suddenly clutched my ankle, stopping my progress, and I fell
to the ground.  My foot had been caught in a noose of vines.  A rustling in
the undergrowth, too close to be ignored, spurred my efforts to release
myself from the trap.

   Freeing my foot, I looked up in some annoyance to the sight of a dozen
swinging black cocks.  I was surrounded by glaring savages, their spears
raised threateningly.

   I rose, forcing a smile of peaceful intentions, only to have my hands
wrested behind my back and bound while my belly was prodded with the point
of a spear to keep me standing upright.  The savages showed no friendly
inclinations whatsoever.  A knife was produced, and I recoiled in fear as
they sliced away my trousers, leaving me naked from the waist down.

   One by one the savages examined my privates, lifting the tip with their
fingers to inspect it from top to bottom.  They sneered, openly comparing
it with their own modest endowments, which they seemed to feel were an
equal match for my formidable prick.  I had a brief moment of fear as they
argued amongst themselves and made threatening motions, as if they were
going to cut it off as a trophy of battle.

   They laughed at my reaction, and I breathed a sigh of relief, realizing
the horrible threat had only been a tasteless joke.

   With my hands bound behind my back, I was poked and prodded mercilessly
and pushed stumbling along a narrow trail through the dense jungle
undergrowth.  My trousers had been beyond salvaging, and from the waist
down I was as bare-assed naked as my captors.  Fortunately, my flowing
shirt tail modestly covered all but the tip of my free-swinging dick.

   After a while, the forest gave way to a clearing, and I was suddenly
surrounded by a crowd of naked people.

   The swarming mass of black bodies pushed pass my warrior captors, and I
found myself standing alone in the midst of a tightly-packed circle of nude
females.  They jostled for position, their eyes locked as one on the
barely-visible, twitching head of my cock--as if they had never seen such a
thing before.  One old woman with dried-up tits that were little more than
leathery flaps of flesh stepped forward cautiously and reached out with a
stick to lift my shirt tail.

   A collective gasp greeted the unveiling, and the old woman pulled back
in alarm.

   Suddenly, I was jumped upon my three younger woman chattering
unintelligibly and my clothing was ripped away in shreds, leaving me
completely naked but for my boots and the rope behind my back that bound
me. While the crowd "oohed" and "ahhed", they yanked on the ropes, forcing
me to stand upright and arched backward with my cock on display.  Tweaking
and pinching my flesh, they proved to all that I was, in fact, real.  A
single word began to emerge from the meaningless babble that send chills up
and down my spine . . .

   Zogli . . .  Zogli. . . .

   Bolder now, the old woman advanced again and lifted the limp length of
my cock.  She examined its head, then touched it with her lips in a kiss
that sent a tingle up my spine.  Her weathered fist encircled the meaty
shaft.

   While she stroked it and tickled me expertly behind my balls, my eyes
roved, picking out the more voluptuous and fucksome members of the
crowd--those with firm, youthful tits and lightly-furred slits--and nature
took its course despite my predicament.  My manhood rose proudly to its
full extension.

   The old woman shook her head knowledgeably and uttered the wretched
name: "Zogli!"

   Immediately the assembled crowd dropped to their knees and dipped their
foreheads to the crowd.  A sea of upturned asses wiggled in unison as they
murmured, "Zogli . . .  Zogli . . .  Zogli . . .  "

   My mind filled with thoughts of buggery.

   But, alas, the good Lord had other things in store for me.  The old lady
had begun to chant and pump my prick rhythmically.  The crowd pressed
closer, until I could feel firm tits pressing against my back and the
silky, moist warmth of cunt curls cuddling my bottomcheeks and my thighs.

   My body reacted normally, eager hands catching my sperm as it squirted
into the air, and every drop was rubbed from one body to another until the
entire ring of black flesh that surrounded me was gleaming with my juices.

   A sharp shout broke the naked savages' orgiastic concentration, and the
crowd fall back as a short black man wearing a hideous mask advanced toward
me.

   My prick still dripping, I shrank back in fright myself, but the
fearsome man's anger was not directed at me.  Two burly black guards
hustled me away while he chastised the erring women.

   I was dumped unceremoniously on the floor in the middle of a large
thatched hut.  Not until then was I able to turn my eyes fully on the men
who had rescued me from the crush of the overly zealous women.  I blinked,
my vision adjusting to the dimly-lit interior, and stared at crotches that
were devoid of hair and other appurtenances as well.

   Only a scar stood out vividly in the clean-shaven space between their
legs where a prick should be, along with a tiny orifice that was not unlike
the hole a woman uses to piss through.  I shuddered.  These men, like our
guide, had apparently paid the price for ravaging the pagan queen.

   I had barely adjusted to my new situation when the masked man entered.
"I say, old chap," he said in perfect Oxfordian tones, "you have gotten
yourself into a fix, haven't you?"

   I could scarce conceal my shock as he pulled off his mask to reveal a
shining black countenance broken into a broad grin.  He introduced himself
as Dr.  Jake, telling me I'd never be able to pronounce his native name.

   The accent was not Oxford, he informed me, but Cambridge, where he had
studied.  Upon graduation he had forsaken the attractive positions at the
bottom of the ladder in the janitorial and maintenance professions with, of
course, opportunities for upward advancement that were routinely offered to
educated black men in those days and decided, instead, to seek his fortune
in the land of his forefathers.

   "Actually," he informed me proudly, "I have done quite well.  As chief
witch doctor, I have reached the top of the political heap--a small pond,
perhaps, but I'm a very, very big fish, I can assure you."

   A quick clap of his hands sent the eunuches away, and a vision of black
loveliness appeared.  Jewels sparkled and gold glistened, decorating dusky
flesh that needed no embellishment.  She had the most perfectly rounded
breasts I have ever seen over a broad curving belly, sleek thighs, and a
breathtaking ass that was at once firm and curvaceous.

   "Allow me to present my wife, Queen M'yana M'buti M'patfiti," he said
with a chuckle as the woman knelt between my legs with a basin of water.

   She began bathing by balls with warm water, using her fingers to flex
and lift the shaft while she swabbed it delicately.

   "M'yana has blood every bit as regal as the queens of England," he went
on, "and much more attractively packaged, don't you agree?  What she is
doing now is a ceremonial cleansing.  It is our custom to offer one's wife
to one's guests."

   Grinning shyly, the woman gave the tip of my prick a teasing pinch and
nodded deferentially.

   "It is usually considered poor form to refuse such an offer and leaves
one's manliness suspect.  However, considering the consequences, I could
well understand if you decided to forego my offer, being content instead
with a lesser token of my hospitality."

   I nodded with some reluctance, wondering for a moment if it might be
worth losing my balls for an instant of bliss with this enchanting
creature. But thoughts of the heavy price to pay did not prevent my cock
from reacting normally to the manipulation, and it rose into an erection.

   The woman released my hard-on and stared at it in astonishment. 
"Zogli!" she exclaimed.  "Zogli!"

   "My word!" said Dr.  Jake.  He grasped a long wooden object shaped like
a dildo and thrust it between my legs alongside my standing cock.

   Chills ran down my spine and sweat dampened my brow.  I was staring at
the object of my quest, their cursed idol, Zogli.  And it was a perfect
match--the exact size and shape of my own stiffened prick.

   The witch doctor chuckled.  "When I carved that bloody thing, I
exaggerated the proportions--never imagining there would be another like it
in the entire world.  Fate, eh, Reverend?  Or, perhaps, you'd prefer an
inspiration from God?"

   He made a gesture, and M'yana backed away from my standing pole and
disappeared.

   "I had planned to release you," Dr.  Jake muttered thoughtfully, "as a
professional courtesy.  But now, I think not.  We have quite a celebration
coming up in a few days--our annual fertility festival.  You'll enjoy it
I'm sure, all sorts of fucking and other goings-on.  You will be my guest
for a few more days.  Please, accept my hospitality."

   He gave a quick clap of his hands and two nubile nymphs appeared. 
___________________________________________________________________________
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   Chapter Ten at
/files/Authors/Dern_Goode/paganprincess/chapter10.txt

   Index at
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