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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 FOURTEEN

   A FATEFUL FEAST

   "The opportunities here are endless!" said Dr.  Jake, waving a hand
expansively.  "Cunt everywhere you look.  When I first saw this place, I
realized that this was where I wanted to make my fortune rather than in the
crowded, polluted atmosphere of a city like London.

   "And what a lonesome place that was!  Can you imagine, dear fellow, I
spent an entire year there without a decent fuck?  An entire year!" He
chuckled.  "That will never happen again!"

   "Yes, you seem to have done well for yourself." I said, avoiding the
gaze of his wife who sat across from us.

   We were seated together on the ground around a long, low table, Dr. 
Jake and myself, along with M'yana, her two handmaidens and several other
members of their household, enjoying a tasty repast served by a bevy of
naked young ladies of various ages--all decorated like my companion of the
morning with shaved pussies and green vines twined in their hair.  The
witch doctor's charming wife had made no mention of the fact my prick had
been in her cunt the previous evening, nor had I.

   "A veritable land of opportunity," he went on.  "Were you thinking of
starting a church here, Goodheart?"

   "Actually, I had a more limited mission," I replied without elaborating
as I swallowed down a tasty bit of snake and chewed a while longer on the
caterpillar that had been roasted along with it.  Reaching into the common
pot with my fingers, I extracted another piece of monkey and placed in on
the mongongo leaf before me alongside some grubs boiled in palm oil.

   "A pity.  There's really quite a lot of wickedness mucking about around
here, you know." He turned me a friendly smile.  "And I can't say I
wouldn't enjoy the intellectual stimulus of debating my heathen principles
against your Christian ethics."

   "It does sound a challenge," I admitted with good nature.  "But I doubt
that the church fathers would approve of me cavorting with a naked
congregation.  You see, I've already acquired a certain reputation . . .  "

   I left the thought hanging and turned my attention to the tasty-looking
bowl of stew I had just been handed, poking about with a sharp bamboo
implement as I tried to identify the various vegetables I encountered.  I
speared a juicy piece of meat and asked, "About my colleagues.  I trust
you're taking care of them?"

   "But, of course!  You would be concerned about the lovely lady you were
fucking while we raided your encampment, wouldn't you?" Dr.  Jake chuckled.
"She's been stashed safely away.  You can't be too careful around here, you
know." He lowered his voice.  "These horny beggars go wild at the sight of
a white woman--it's the variety they crave."

   Then, his smile vanished.  "Her husband, I am sorry to say, did not
survive the attack.  Poor fellow.  Martin was a nice enough chap until he
lost his balls.  It does that to some people.  Some turn docile; others,
vicious.  It was his own bearers that turned on him, not my people.  Sad,
really, I don't know where I'll find a chess opponent half as good."

   "And the other woman?" I ventured.  "Essie . . .  "

   "Ah, Essie!" He shook his head.  "I sent her straight to the cook.  What
else can you do with a woman like that?"

   "You mean, this . . .  " I nodded toward my bowl of stew.

   "Yes." He beamed.  "Quite good, isn't she?"

   I shook my head sadly.  Poor Essie.  Actually, she was a good deal more
tender than I would have expected, and I couldn't resist a second helping
of the tasty stew.

   "And her Bibles?" I inquired further, knowing how dear her mission had
been to her heart.

   "The Bibles!" He snorted.  "It was her wish that they be distributed to
my people--and I've seen to that.  A lot of good it'll do them, though! 
I'm the only one in the village that can read--and even I can't read them."

   "Oh?"

   "They're written in the wrong language, my dear fellow--Swahili, can you
imagine?"

   So poor Essie's sacrifice had been for naught.  "I'll have to take that
up with the Missions Supply people when I return," I said quietly.

   He stared at me.  "When you return?" Then, he laughed.  "Yes, my dear
fellow, you really must do that!" With a clap of his hands, he changed the
subject.  "Let us have our dessert!"

   The low table had been cleared while we talked, and now a delightful new
dish was brought in and laid across it.  It was a young lady, stretched out
on her back, her naked body decorated with fruits of the jungle.

   A shock of recognition steeled my body as I recognized her as the virgin
I had deflowered by the waterfall only that morning.  She was in a smiling
stupor, probably caused by the sweet, aphrodisiac wine the natives liked so
much, and her body had been smeared from head to foot with honey and then
covered with juicy bits of fruit.

   "This is a special treat," the witch doctor pointed out, "which we enjoy
only when we have guests.  The girl's a virgin, of course."

   "A virgin?" I gulped and laughed nervously.  "At her age?  Surely not in
this permissive environment--"

   "No, no.  It's quite true.  It was a little idea of mine--based on the
vestal virgins of old, you know.  But we have twelve of them rather than
six.  We add a new one each year--an eight-year-old." He grinned.

   "But you're right, even at that age, it's hard to find a youngster with
maidenhead intact.  But once selected, she comes under the protection of
the entire village.  Their vine tiaras and their shaven genitals set them
apart.  Woe unto any man that violates one of these precious beauties," he
said menacingly.

   I asked him--just as a supposition--what would happen if
someone--perhaps not knowledgeable as to their customs--were to stumble
across one of the pretty maidens, and unwittingly have his pleasure with
her.  I coughed discreetly, pointing out again that it was all a
supposition.

   The witch doctor had to ponder that for a moment.  Such an unlikely
event had never occurred, he told me.  Nor could he envision it happening.
But, "if it did, I suppose I would just have to come up with some torturous
method of execution whereby they'd both expire simultaneously."

   I shuddered, having already anticipated such an answer.

   "Now," said Dr.  Jake, "you're our guest.  Pick your pleasure."

   "I believe I'll nibble here," I said nervously, indicating the mound of
fruit in the V of the girl's legs covering her cunt.

   With that, the entire group dived in, their heads bobbing as they
applied mouths, lips, and tongues directly to suck and lick away the girl's
decorative covering.  Dr.  Jake, beside me took a breast, and the two
handmaidens took the one on the other side.  M'yana's tongue cleaned the
girl's thighs and belly in broad sweeps.  Lesser members of the household
had to be content with arms, legs, feet, and toes.

   I gobbled bits of fruit in my haste to get to the girl's pretty pussy,
knowing only too well the delights that were available inside.  Reaching my
objective, I sucked the young woman's cunt contentedly while other tongues
stimulated her from head to foot.  She moaned with delight as my mouth and
nose nuzzled her sticky muff, and my tongue slipped between the pink swell
of her pussy lips to gently stroke her insides.

   To be sure, her excitement was not all my fault, but I did feel
responsible for a few tiny gasps as I nibbled lightly on her fleshy labia
before tickling the quivering button of her clit with my tongue.  Unable to
contain her excitement, the girl shuddered and her cunt convulsed in
orgasm. I parted her tender folds, pushing my tongue deeper and spurred her
pleasure by flicking its tip rapidly over her glistening internal
membranes.

   When her excitement subsided, I withdrew my tongue and applied it to the
silken stubble that adorned her shaved cunt mount, licking it clean of its
syrupy coating.

   With a great belch, Dr.  Jake pronounced the repast complete and the
girl was taken away.  My host leaned back contentedly and cleaned his teeth
with a bamboo toothpick.  "Ah, yes," he murmured.  "A delightful
dish--she'll be a splendid sacrifice."

   "Sacrifice?" said I, horrified by the thought.

   "Yes, our annual fertility festival--one of the reasons my people love
me so much," he explained, settling back in expansive, after-dinner
contentment.  "You see, when I first came here, the horny beggars were
running around fucking right and left."

   He went on to explain how he had brought order to their madness.  He had
imposed limits on their conduct--not so much as those of civilized men--but
enough so that sexual encounters became something to anticipate and enjoy.

   "And I gave them festivals, my dear fellow--festivals!  At least one
every couple of weeks.  The men save it up for a day or two and the women
paint themselves up, then they dance and sing and fuck their hearts out! 
Between festivals, they must restrict themselves to members of their
family.

   "But at the festival . . .  even the lady from the next hut is fair
game. Clever, eh?  Is it any wonder they adore me so?"

   "Yes, but, isn't that exactly the way it was before you even came
here--fucking indiscriminately?"

   The witch doctor laughed.  "You are an astute man!  But isn't it always
the case that men never appreciate what they have until it's been denied
them?  You place a man in a cramped prison cell and he will be eternally
grateful to you for a simple breath of fresh air and a walk in the
sunlight.

   "Quite simply, I have taken a part of their everyday life--fucking--and
made it the key to my power." He laughed.  "You see, Goodheart, my lessons
at Cambridge haven't been entirely wasted."

   "So the young lady is to become a sacrifice," I said disapprovingly. 
"It sounds barbaric to me."

   "Yes, doesn't it?  Delightfully barbaric!  And I can assure you, this
year's sacrifice will be much more effective than last year's.  Last year's
virgin escaped.  The ungrateful little bitch was my niece--a particular
favorite of mine--and I'm afraid in a moment of weakness I allowed her to
flee.

   "Our gods were not pleased.  We've had nothing but bad luck since.  We
lost every war we've fought this past year, and our enemies have stolen
away many of our finest young men and most fuckable woman.  Why, if we
hadn't had a stroke of good fortune the other day, we would have nothing
this year for the Arab traders."

   "Your luck changed?"

   He nodded.  "We stumbled upon an elephant.  Of course, we haven't much
use for an elephant, although the tusks will bring us a good price.  Not
much to do with the rest except eat it.  You can't imagine the leftovers,
my dear fellow!  We captured some sports paraphernalia along with it,
and--oh, yes!--a couple of white women.  So we won't be completely
empty-handed when the traders arrive."

   "Slave traders?" I gasped in horror.

   "A nasty business, it's true," he said.  "But that's economics for you.
Anyway, it'll be over soon.  The Arab traders will be here any day, now. 
They always come just before the rains set in.  But don't let that disturb
you.  It certainly won't interfere with your moment of glory."

   I gave him an inquiring look.

   "The festival, Goodheart!  The festival!  You will be the star!  Can't
you just picture it?  Hundreds of lusty black bodies--pricks hard, cunts
dripping--circled around, chanting softly, watching with bated breath while
you plunge that magnificent instrument your god has given you between the
thighs of their beloved queen--"

   "You--you want me to fuck your wife?"

   "Of course not!  What man wants such a thing?  But you will be the
personification of the great god Zogli--the envy of every man and the dream
of every woman."

   "But--" I choked, "--what about . . .  afterwards?"

   "No need to worry about that.  I've had quite a lot of experience; it'll
be a clean cut.  And then I'll stuff it.  I took a correspondence course in
taxidermy, you know.  Years ago.  I stuffed a pair of tits--the flying
kind, of course--and a field mouse.  I don't think a cock would be too hard
to handle, do you?  Much like stuffing a sausage?"

   "I suppose so," I murmured, uneasy at the thought.

   The black man sighed and turned philosophic.  "This will all be gone
someday, I'm afraid.  We won't be able to resist the debilitating effects
of civilization forever.  Someday, perhaps, archaeologists will happen upon
your stuffed prick and send it away to a museum--maybe even the Ashmolean."

   The thought of my prick resting on a dusty shelf in some museum did not
make my proposed fate any easier to bear.  I doubted they would even
display it in a position of prominence. 
___________________________________________________________________________
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   Chapter Fifteen at
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   Index at
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