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JungleGoddess

This is a sexual story written and copyrighted by me, Shon Richards.
Please don't post, repost or place on your website without asking me first.
Send comments to shonrichardshsd@earthlink.com.

This story was written in the spirit of the jungle girl Genre. For more
information on this unique culture, I recommend
http://www.geocities.com/area51/aurora/2669/sheena.html

Birth of the jungle Goddess
By Shon Richards

Somewhere in the Congo, 1886
Elizabeth Ellison fell to the ground again. She couldn't pick
herself up because her hands were tied behind her back, but the natives
were quick to lift her. The rope around her neck pulled her
cruelly, urging her to keep moving. She knew better than to protest.
The heartless black savages who had captured her husband's expedition
had killed two men already who had complained. These brutes had led
them on a terrible pace through the jungles of Africa for most of the
morning and they didn't like to be slowed down by weak whites.

Mr. Ellison, her husband, was in front of her. She winced when
she saw the marks on his back from where the natives had beaten him,
but she was also smiling. Her husband had given worse beatings to the
servants back in London. A few times he had even raised his hand to
her. She would have never married the lout if it weren't for her
parents. They were as hungry for Mr. Ellison's estates as Mr. Ellison
had been for her family's money. As a young girl of barely 16,
Elizabeth was merely a bargaining tool for her family and at her
current age of 20, she was still just a piece of property to her pig of
a husband.

Elizabeth growled to herself as she was pulled through sharp
grass. They had been captured at dawn and they didn't allow Elizabeth
to dress herself at all. She was still wearing her sleeping gown with
only a pair of stockings to cover her feet. The sweat of the morning
journey was soaking her gown to her body, and Elizabeth was terribly
embarrassed by the way her gown was clinging to her small breasts and
backside. The harsh grasses of this unforgiving land were shredding
her stockings. She felt naked without her corset, undercoat, dress and
umbrella.

What was odder was the way the savages kept looking at her with
something akin to lust. Elizabeth was not used to that kind of look.
She had always been a homely girl with skin that was always breaking
out and breasts that were only slight hills on her flat chest.
Her blonde hair was dull and always too curly to decorate like her
sister's hair. Her family had impressed on her that she was lucky to
get married at all with her looks, yet these savages seem to be
absolutely ogling her.

Elizabeth squealed as a snake ran across her feet. The natives
didn't even pause though they did laugh at her. Elizabeth glared at
them. She was past the point of caring. She didn't even want to
come on this hunting trip to Africa but Elizabeth's concerns weren't a
concern to Mr. Ellison. He wanted to have some trophies on his wall
and he didn't care one bit that he elephant he shot yesterday had been
asleep when he killed it. Mr. Ellison saw Africa as one big playground
placed there for his amusement. He brought Elizabeth along to make
sure his tea was always ready, and most likely, to prove what a
powerful man he was.

Finally, they reached a primitive village located next to a
river. The entire population of the village was present, and Elizabeth
could read the hatred and mocking in their faces. They spat at Mr.
Ellison as he was paraded past them, and Elizabeth couldn't help but
smile. The bastard could use a good spitting on. The village people
ignored the rest of their helpless party; the servants and other
hunters didn't earn their scorn for some reason.

The natives forced the members of the hunting party to kneel
before a young man who sat on a throne of bone. Elizabeth was struck
by how young the Negro was, barely sixteen. She saw Mr. Ellison kneel
with defiance, a smug smile on his face. He didn't respect the boy
leader. Perhaps, Elizabeth mused, it was because the boy leader was
the same age she had been when he married her.

The young boy spoke in a strange tongue to the natives who had
captured them and Elizabeth didn't understand a word, but it reminded
her of a trial. An old man stepped forward, covered in skins and
bone jewelry. He spoke in a cold tone, and the village
growled in anger. The young king then said something, and three
natives dragged something forward. Mr. Ellison was grabbed roughly and
forced to rise. He saw the carcass the three dragged forward. It was
covered in flies but it was clearly the elephant he had shot and
beheaded yesterday.

"Oh, fuck," Mr. Ellison said. Even his thick, British mentality
understood what was going on.

They forced him to kneel again and a man stepped forward with a
huge ax. Elizabeth was in awe of the weapon. It was impossibly large,
with a blade that was nearly a yard long. The huge black that wielded
it was carrying its immense size easily.

"Oh dear God, No!" Mr. Ellison yelled. "I can give you money!
I'm rich! What about my wife? Take her! Just spare me! It's not
fair!"

He was still pleading for his life when the ax chopped his head
off with one clean sweep. The village cheered, breaking into an
unintelligible babble of celebration. His head flew from his body and
landed before Elizabeth. She looked down on the head with an odd mix
of apathy. His heartless eyes were open and his fat jowls were sagging
as usual. Her husband was dead, and all Elizabeth could feel was an
immense relief. Then she spat on his face; doing what she had wanted
to do for four years but lacking the courage.

The entire village became silent after her action. Elizabeth
looked up and was surprised to see them all watching her. The old man
stepped forward and touched her face. She flinched from his fingers
but for some reason, he only touched her cheeks under her eyes. Then
he shouted something that made the crowd of bloodthirsty savages fall
back in fear.

"What's going on?" Elizabeth asked. The other white hunters
said nothing, not wanting to draw attention to them even to assure a
terrified woman. The British sense of chivalry was forgotten quickly
in this savage land.

The old man pointed to Elizabeth and barked out an order. She
was seized and lifted to her feet but she refused to scream. Now that
her husband was dead, she felt a new freedom surge through her. With
the passing of that lout, Elizabeth felt like her life was hers again
and she wasn't going to spend what was left of it in terror anymore.

Her resolve held out even when her captors unsheathed their
knives. She closed her eyes and waited for the worse but instead of
cutting her, they were cutting her clothes! Elizabeth opened her eyes
and looked in horror as they sliced away her flimsy gown. These
godless animals were stripping her!

They tossed the shreds of her gown as easily as they removed her
dignity. Elizabeth blushed with shame as the other white captives
stared at her nudity. She wanted to cross her arms over her small bare
breasts, but the heartless natives held her arms with iron strength.
When they ripped her underwear from her hips, Elizabeth realized that
this was the first time her sex had seen the light of day. The hot
African wind blew over her body, and she shivered with a
combination of shame and a strange delight at the coaxing sensation.

The blacks however were almost more nervous than she. They
ripped her clothes apart quickly and efficiently until she was
completely bare. There was no lust in their eyes, unlike the naked
desire she saw in the eyes of the white hunting party.

Once she was naked they dragged her towards the crowd. The
villagers parted before Elizabeth and the embarrassed girl saw where
her captors were taking her. A giant wood carving of a man stood in
the center of the village, his arms open and his face leering. The
statue was eight feet tall and decorated with strange symbols painted
on his skin.

The old man ran ahead of Elizabeth to the statue. Opening a
pouch, the man pulled out an ebony object that he treated with extreme
reverence. Elizabeth watched as he placed the object on the statue's
crotch. Her British sensibilities were horrified to realize that the
ebony item was a phallus for the statue! The thick rod was obscenely
large, much larger than anything Mr. Ellison ever wielded. It had to
be at least six inches long!

Elizabeth's thoughts of the phallus were interrupted by the fact
that her captors were lifting her off her feet. As they carried her
towards the pagan statue, realization dawned on her. She screamed and
kicked, but the powerful natives held her firmly and pulled her legs
apart. With surprising gentleness, they guided her towards the
statue's cock. Elizabeth shuddered as the ebony phallus entered her
slowly, giving her nave sex time to adjust to the girth. As terrified
as she was, Elizabeth was also intrigued by the way it filled her
completely. Mr. Ellison never felt like this inside her!

When Elizabeth was fully impaled on the statue's cock, the
natives pulled her legs and arms around her immobile lover. She felt
the biting of rope being tied around her ankles as well as around her
wrists. Tightly she was pulled against the statue till even her small
breasts were crushed against the hard wood. Elizabeth blushed with
shame as she realized what a lewd sight she must present with her pale
white feminine form wrapped around such a decadent idol of savages.

She shrieked when she felt the statue move, but then she realized
it was just the savages picking the statue up. The statue bounced as
the natives walked, forcing Elizabeth to bounce in an undignified
manner on the statue's phallus. Sensations flooded the woman's mind as
her secret place was penetrated and fucked with a fulfilling depth she
had never experienced before. Elizabeth knew she should have been
outraged, but was too shocked by the feelings within her to care. Up
and down the statue bounced inside her, giving her the fucking she had
only fantasized about when she had lain with Mr. Ellison.

Elizabeth couldn't turn around to see where they were going but
she could hear the rushing of the river. When they stopped, she felt a
flush of shame at her disappointment. The wonderful bouncing had
stopped and now the immobile phallus only teased her. The old man
announced something to the crowd of villagers while Elizabeth struggled
to ignore the heat rising inside her. She briefly considered rubbing
against the statue, a thought she immediately discarded, but she was
still embarrassed for thinking of it in the first place.

The old man finished speaking and Elizabeth suppressed a moan as
the statue was lifted again. The moan turned into a scream as the
statue was thrown forward! Elizabeth shrieked until her scream was
drowned in water. She had been tossed into the river!

Elizabeth struggled against her bonds as the statue sank into the
water. No matter how fiercely she pulled and tugged, the ropes held
her tight. The phallus inside her seemed to mock her, filling with
wonderful sensations while she struggled for her life. Elizabeth's
lungs screamed for air while her sex screamed for more of the phallus.

The statue settled on the bottom of the river and luckily
Elizabeth was on top. The water was too murky to see but she nearly
screamed when she felt something brush her bare buttocks. The cold
water of the river was a shock to her skin, causing her nipples to
harden against the rough wood of the statue. She pulled harder against
the ropes but they held her as tightly as her sex held the phallus.
Elizabeth threw her body back and forth to break free of the ropes but
it was useless. All she succeeded in doing was exciting her sex even
further as her body humped the statue and the cursed ebony manhood.

Despite her panic, Elizabeth became aware of a strange
development. The cold phallus inside her moved! Elizabeth stopped
struggling and paid attention to the mystery happening between her
legs. There was no mistaking it, the phallus was throbbing inside her,
pulsing with a life that was impossible. Shortly, Elizabeth felt heat
emanate from the phallus, a soothing warmth that filled her body and
protected her from the cold water.

Entranced by the strange circumstances Elizabeth opened her mouth
and felt the water rush into her, yet, she didn't drown. She opened
her eyes and took a deep breath to confirm that she was in no danger.
Against all logic, she was able to breathe the river as easily as air.

The phallus pulsed faster inside Elizabeth, making the woman
shiver and moan. Confused and completely bewildered, Elizabeth
surrendered to the demands of her body. Her arms and legs clutched the
mysterious carved man and pulled the phallus deeper inside her. A
powerful shiver traveled the length of her body as she accepted the
strange offering.

Elizabeth felt warmth spread over her as she fucked the carved
man. She had never fucked Mr. Ellison like this for he had forbidden
her to ride on top, but then, she never would have wanted to fuck a
cruel man like her husband. Her motions were inexperienced but she
quickly found a pace that she enjoyed. She was steadily riding herself
to orgasm at the bottom of a river in deepest Africa, yet it felt like
the most normal thing in the world to the exhausted English woman.

She tilted her head back and noticed her hair was floating in the
water. As she watched, her curly hair straightened out of its
impossible kinks. As she felt the phallus throb inside her, Elizabeth
felt her hair grow and lengthen magically until it floated thickly
around her head.

The hard wood that pressed against her breasts seemed to press
harder against her nipples. Elizabeth looked down to see that her
flat, unattractive chest was quickly growing. She gasped as her
breasts ripened, spreading and pushing against the wood as she achieved
a bust that would rival Aphrodite.

All over her body, Elizabeth felt the changes. Her thighs
gripped the statue with a new strength and she felt the same power in
her arms. Her sex seemed to accept the phallus with a new grip until
she could feel every mysterious vein and symbol carved on the ebony
manhood. All through these changes, she continued to grind against the
phallus within her; enjoying the new levels of sensitivity she was
experiencing.

She felt her body contract as she reached the peak before her
orgasm. Once or twice, Mr. Ellison had given her an orgasm by
accident, but it was never like this. Those orgasms never made her
body tense with desire like it for her now. Elizabeth felt a burst of
bliss before the orgasm and when she did climax, it was like being
kissed by a thousand warm mouths.

Her climax sent her into convulsions as her body was wracked by
sensations too intense to endure. The statue snapped in half as her
thighs clenched. The ropes holding her arms were snapped by her sheer
strength. The phallus was ripped free from the statue with the power
of her clenching sex; remaining inside her as her body reeled in the
throes of orgasm.

When the orgasm subsided, Elizabeth found herself free. The
phallus was lodged inside her but she didn't care. The sun was calling
her from above the water and she answered its call. She kicked upward
and was surprised by how easily she cut through the water. Swimming
was as easy as breathing now and the depths of the river were no longer
murky to Elizabeth.

She erupted from the water with a splash and Elizabeth smiled at
the way the villagers gasped. They didn't expect her to be alive.
Well, neither did Elizabeth.

The young woman swam to the shore and stepped out of the water.
As she rose from the water, one of the natives screamed in terror and
lunged at her with his spear. Elizabeth grabbed the spear from his
hands, amazed at how slow he seemed to be moving. Without thinking,
she swung the spear back at the terrified savage and broke the spear
against the man's head. The whole fight lasted three seconds.

Elizabeth looked at the spear in her hand in shock, and then
noticed the rest of her body. Her skin was absorbing the sunlight,
darkening to a rich tan before her eyes. She looked down at her chest
and saw clearly the full bosom she was now blessed with. Touching her
face, she could find no trace of the acne that had plagued her for her
whole life. Elizabeth felt beautiful for the first time in her life.

"Hail Nyeki! We are your servants! My name is Maori, and we are
the village of Tesimbi." the old man said. Elizabeth noticed that
though she understood him he wasn't speaking in English.

"Why do I understand you?" she asked the old man. The rest of
the village dropped to their knees in supplication.

"As the second wife of Ogulum, you are now blessed with his
gifts," Maori explained. "It is as the Prophecy explained."

The old man stood tall and proud as he recited the sacred words
handed down through the generations.

"There shall come a woman, who will not shed tears for the death
of her spouse. Once her husband is slain, she shall wed Ogulum, King
of the Jungle! If he refuses her, she shall drown, but if he accepts
her, she shall be marked and be known as Nyeki, the second wife!"

"I am alive," Elizabeth admitted. "But what do you mean by
marked?"

Maori stepped closer and carefully touched her hair. Elizabeth
reached up and touched the tress he had gathered and pulled it in front
of her face so she could see it. The lock had changed dark green in
color!

"The green stripe is a mark of the jungle King, and you are now
our Goddess!" the old man declared with joy in his voice. "Hail
Nyeki!"

The village of Tesimbi cheered with him. "Hail Nyeki!"

Elizabeth felt the phallus throb inside her as her name was
hailed. She reached down and pulled the ebony phallus out. As she
held it in her hands she could feel it's magical power.

"Keep it Nyeki," Maori said when she tried to offer it to him.
"It belongs to Ogulum, which means it belongs to you. You are his
Bride, and his manhood is the source of your power."

Elizabeth gripped the phallus tightly in her hand. She didn't
understand fully what was going on, but after a lifetime of being
helpless, she welcomed the change. To test her new freedom, she asked
about the other captives.

"We were going to kill them for defiling the jungle with their
senseless slaughter," Maori proudly answered. "But if you wish to do
something else with them, Nyeki, just give the command."

Power felt odd to Elizabeth. Her mother hadn't allowed her to
pick her own friends when she was a child. Her father hadn't allowed
her to pick a husband. Her husband hadn't allowed her even to pick her
own clothes. Now she was asked to decide the fate of others and the
power felt as exhilarating to Elizabeth as the orgasm Ogulum gave her.

"Mr. Wells," Elizabeth said to the eldest of the hunters. He was
staring at her breasts until she addressed him. Now he was looking at
her face with fear in his eyes.

"You and the others are free to go. I wouldn't come back if I
were you," she told him.

"What about you?" Mr. Wells asked. "You're not going to stay
with these savages, are you?"

Elizabeth looked at the villagers of Tesimbi and saw another
thing she had never seen before. It was respect. She decided she like
that too.

"I'm staying," she said.

"What will I tell your parents?" Mr. Wells pleaded. As a British
gentleman, he thought the mention of her parents would shake this silly
girl into thinking straight.

He was wrong.

"Tell them that Elizabeth died," she told him and she knew it was
the truth.

"I'm Nyeki now."

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