Foreign Affairs

Things can quickly go astray when we travel to foreign lands whose peoples have different customs than our own. The comely Lord of the Jungle discovers this during his trip to Opar, where the slavers like to "sample the wares" and often make sporting use of their "recent acquisitions". Crafty nets and sturdy snares had been laid in advance of his coming. Stealthy scouts reported his every move, and indeed, the trap was sprung with a deadly precision. The slavers bore their masculine prize back to Opar netted and bound to a long pole, writhing and cursing like the apes the Jungle Lord ruled over in his own kingdom. His brief imprisonment had been pleasant enough: with body slaves washing and preening the muscled brute, scraping his skin and oiling his hair until he seemed the very essence of masculine beauty, but Tarzan had other ideas and intended escape before he was paraded before the rulers of this land where men lay with men or women with little care for what went on in the night. He was chained to his sleeping couch each night until morning, so he began to work the chain-bolt free of the wall and was neatly scaling over the wall of his luxurious prison to his jungle and freedom when a soft lasso of rope seemed to float down from above and settled over his broad shoulders. It's sudden tightening pinned his thick arms to his side and soon enough the loin-cloth clad muscleman was being led back to the palace in the company of many guards; all of whom seemed to be smiling and jostling with rising excitement. Tarzan noticed as he passed the leering men that all of them seemed to be focused on his hind quarters and strong legs as he strode towards the arched gate beyond. deeper and deeper into the heart of the opulent citadel did they walk through fine chambers, scented with sandalwood and incense, the walls rich with gilding and tapestries. The men and their captured prize halted inside a mid-sized chamber and the captain of the guard issued orders for the doors to be closed and bolted. Already the men were shedding armor and helm, swords and sandals...A thick haze of male hormones began to swell and fill Tarzan's nostrils with each passing moment. Suddenly, Tarzan knew what would happen next and his body was clearly the object of the slavers rising excitement... Seizing his very own knife at the hip of one of the careless guards, he lashed out to strike the man, but the young guard ducked and his trusty blade struck the masonry wall, shattering the long blade. In the ensuing melee, the jungle man felt more and more arms and hands pulling him into a mass of carnal lust. In truth the jungle man understod this...That these lowly men longed to be a part of something...even if it was base and low and as Tarzan sunk into the mass of writhing male bodies he felt more human than ever. It was clear that his escape was to be delayed by some time. Given then dextrous hands that were skillfully manipulating his oiled physique, it might be a while before he saw his homeland again,,,