La

La, Queen of the Beastmen of Opar, woke feeling annoyed. The usual soft warmth of her feather bed felt hard as stone. When she tried to roll over and call to her handmaiden to complain, her annoyance turned to fear. She could not move. She was not in her bed.

The sights and sounds that greeted her as she came to full consciousness told her she was in the dungeon, the same dungeon she herself used to instill discipline and inflict punishment whenever one of the devolved beast men forgot his place. They were here around her, the beast men, hidden in the shadows. Though she could not see them, she could hear their guttural mumblings and smell the stench of their hairy bodies. She felt a rage begin as she thought of their beady, piggish eyes on her naked body.

For naked she was, and strapped and chained to the x-shaped table in the center of the room. She was spread-eagled, her wrists and legs bound with leather straps, her royal muff exposed to their insolent eyes. Her breasts jutted upward, criss-crossed with chains. From that cross, a chain ran down her flat soft belly and between her legs, digging into her netherlips, pinning her to the rough wood. She could barely move, but she did not need to see her surroundings. She knew them well, knew the walls of the chamber were lined with the tools of torture and pleasure she used on her comely slave girls, knew there was a drain beneath the table to catch the piss they spilled in their fear, the blood she spilled from them in her anger.

Her fear began to subside as she thought of the Jungle Lord, who always seemed to sense when he was needed and come to her aid. He would rescue her. How could he not? She knew that despite his protests he was mad with lust for her, intoxicated by the scent of her, drawn to the taste of her wetness. He would come and slay the beast men, then she would ravish him as reward, granting him the favors she had denied to every man. No man had ever touched her royal skin, had ever violated the sacred realm of her woman's places. Yes, she had taken her pleasure from the worthiest of her slave girls, but no man had ever proved himself worthy of her charms. No man but the Jungle Lord. He would come. He had to.

But her confidence turned to despair when she remembered that she herself had sent the one man who could save her to his death.

Though she knew her efforts were futile, the Virgin Queen of Opar strained against the wide leather straps that held her bound to the X-shaped table in the dungeon of the ruined city of the Opar Men. Her writhing only served to cord her muscles and bring sheen of sweat to her naked skin. The beast men who ringed the chamber, none daring to come too close to the one who once held their lives and deaths in her dainty hand, hooted and slapped the stone floor, excited by smell of her struggles. Torchlight danced on her nude body.

Though by the standards of civilization she would have been considered a hairy Bohemian with her full bush and unshaved armpits, it was her relative hairlessness that made her the object of fascination and awe to the devolved men of Opar. It was as if they knew that she was closer to the human they once were before the curse had descended upon the city and threw the men of Opar back along the evolutionary trail until they were now little more than apes. Though the Jungle Lord had spoken to her of things called microbes, she knew that the city had been punished for its crimes by the forest demons. Invisible bugs in the water? Who could believe such nonsense?

La was fortunate that the strap across her neck prevented her from seeing how the brown leather straps that held her had been stained near black with blood, else her fear would have come closer to panic and the scent of it driven the beast men to even greater frenzy. Her thoughts of the Jungle Lord served to calm her, until she remembered that she herself had sealed his doom. Her breathing became calm as she collapsed back in despair, remembering.....

...He had come to her chamber to ask a boon. Many times in the past he had served her, rescuing her from danger, showing her the ways of civilized men and how they might help restore the city to its former glory. Therefore, he came to her unbowed, assured that she would grant his request. Such a trifling matter for one such as he. He asked only safe passage through the lands near the city for a safari of white men, in search of bones to dig from the ground.

He had stood before her in her royal chamber, a forest God. He was naked but for the pouch of leopard skin that held his bulging manhood and the wide belt from which hung a small satchel and the knife of his father's that he had carried always. His body was tall and lithe, the cords of his muscles brought to definition by the hard fought life of the jungle. But his bearing was as proud and noble as the Lord he was. He stood before her, his chin high, his blue eyes defiantly running over her body and meeting her gaze as no man of Opar was allowed to do without facing her lash. She felt the anger that she always felt in his presence begin to rise, even as the lust she always felt for him caused her to grow wet between her shapely legs. That she could never control her animal passions when the Jungle Lord was near vexed her further.

As he spoke about the safari and their quest, her mind and eyes wandered about the room. That was when she noticed Kesh, her favorite handmaiden, gazing with undisguised lust at the Lord of the Apes. Kesh was the finest and most beautiful of her handmaidens. Though the women of Opar had been spared the ravages of the curse that had turned the men to beasts, they were not untouched by it. Kesh's forearms and calves were covered in thick, black hair. The hair between her legs was tangled and dark, covering her lower belly up to her navel and feathering out between the cheeks of her round ass. A trail of hair ran up from her belly to between her huge, low-slung breasts and ringed her large, dark nipples. (The handmaidens of La were not allowed clothes so that none would ever be better dressed than their Queen.) Her eyes, under their thick brows, drank in the sight of the Jungle Lord, lingering on the fullness concealed by the leopard skin. La grew angry, and as was her wont, took out her anger on all about her.

She rose from her throne and stepped down to the Jungle Lord. She was determined that this time he would not deny her demand. For, though she had taken her pleasure from her worthiest of handmaidens, she had never known the touch of a man. No man of Opar would ever sully her. But this man, this god, was worthy and she would have him. She placed her small hand on his broad chest and rose up on her toes to whisper in his ear. "Your friends may pass through the lands of Opar. On one condition. You must pass a night in my bedchamber."

He stepped back from her, a look of pity on his face. He had heard this request many times before and had always rebuked her. Though he felt for her what any man would feel, as was evident by the swelling in his loincloth as she touched him, he was true to another. He reached up and stroked her cheek, a smile brightening eyes the color of the ocean at dawn. Then he did the unthinkable. He laughed in her face.

It was more than she could bear. Rage enveloped her. She stormed back to her throne and took up the scepter of her office. She hissed through bared teeth, "Kill him! Kill this impertinent creature!" The beast men made no move. She screamed, "Kill him for me!"

This was an order the beast men had no trouble understanding. The sound of their Queen's scream inflamed the bestial bloodlust that always lay just beneath the surface. They were on him in an instant, a dozen of them, each as strong as the great apes they resembled. But they were no match for the Jungle Lord. He caught the first to reach him by his great hairy arm and slung him about like a doll, knocking the others into each other. One came from behind and wrapped ape-like arms around the broad chest of the Jungle Lord. He got for his pains a shaven skull driven into his broad nose. As quick as Numa the lion, the Lord of the Apes sprang towards the window. One huge beast man blocked his way. The Jungle Lord never broke stride, driving his shoulder into the deep chest of the beast man and driving him through the glass. His apish foe fell to dash his brains out on the stone courtyard below, but the Jungle Lord's momentum carried him across to the great tree that stood outside the window. In seconds he had vanished from sight.

La fell back on her throne, her rage burning like her lust. The sight of the forest god as he tore through her men had caused her to gush between her legs. But her anger was not tempered by her desire. She clapped her hands and called for The Hunt. In minutes they came before her.

They were three women. Each one tall, muscled and beautiful, by the standards of the city. One had blond hair which was braided into a rope that hung to her taut ass. Her breasts were full and tipped with long pink nipples. Her skin was milky white and the hair which covered her belly was like straw. The second was a redhead, her hair chopped to her skull, her large eyes as green as the jungle she knew like the back of her strong hand. Her breasts were small and round, jutting firmly from her chest. The third was an ebon beauty, her black hair a round helmet on her proud head, her heavy, round breasts cupped by dark nipples.

They were dressed only in the leather straps that held their weapons. They criss-crossed their breasts and clung around their flat bellies. A strap ran between their legs and around their muscled thighs. Each held a chain and each chain leashed a jungle cat. The blonde's held a lion. The redhead's a leopard. The black's a panther.

La reached into the cushions of her throne and withdrew a leather pouch. She opened it and spilled a wealth of diamond on the stone floor. "These diamonds belong to the one that brings me the Jungle Lord's balls in this pouch." She tossed the pouch to them and sent them into the night. Many times she had set The Hunt on her prey. Never had they failed her...

...These memories tortured La now, as she lay bound and naked on the altar of pain. The one man who might save her was surely dead by now. Her despair grew, but her gloom was interrupted by the sound of steps approaching her. A form loomed above her, dressed in the royal robes. It was Kesh!

"You will beg for death", she hissed at her former handmaiden. Kesh merely grunted. She drew from her robes a long, ivory-handled razor. She stepped between the spread legs of her Queen and ran her fingers through the thick bush that hid the royal cunt. Then she began to shave her....... Tears of rage and humiliation streamed down the face of the Queen of Opar. Her royal cunt, once hidden from the prying eyes of the Beast Men by the thick tangle of curls in her lap, now lay open and exposed, shaved by her traitorous handmaiden Kesh.

She could feel the dank breeze on her pubic mound and on the thick butterfly lips that protruded from between. Her tenderest skin was raw from the razor. Kesh had been thorough. Her armpits were now bare as well. The rebellious wench now stood at her side. She took La's perfect breast in her rough hand and squeezed it until the dainty pink nipple grew red and firm. She delicately shaved the long hairs that ringed the nipple, scraping the blade to the edge of the tip, careful to touch, but not cut, the tender bud. After she had finished with both, she smiled an evil smile down at her former Queen. "The more hairless you are, the more the beast men will see your divinity. How much mightier shall I be then, when I slit the throat of a Goddess."

She turned her attention to La's long tresses. La tried to avoid the blade, but the thick strap across her throat held her firm. Kesh's huge breasts hung in La's face as she leaned to her work. La had to fight to control the urge to bite the long nipple that pressed against her lips. But she knew that would only hasten her end and she still held out the glimmer of hope that the Jungle Lord would come to her rescue, though she knew that by now her Huntresses had done their work, that the Jungle Lord's duck-egg balls rested in a leather pouch on their way back to her.

La wept as the blade scraped across her skull. She fancied she could hear the tufts of hair hitting the stone floor. She closed her eyes as Kesh's pendulous breasts rubbed across her face. Once this had excited her. Kesh was the most lovely of her handmaidens and La had tasted her charms on many a cold night, licking and sucking her big, brown nipples, searching with her tongue in the mass of hair on Kesh's belly to find her swollen clit, bringing her to screaming climax after climax, tasting the gush of hot juices as they flooded her mouth. She would hear Kesh scream again, she vowed, but this time they would be screams of agony. "There," Kesh sneered. "Now you are a match for your Forest God."

It was true. La's head was now as bald as the Jungle Lord's. La was about to spit a string of curses at the traitorous bitch when the sound of commotion stayed her tongue. The beast men who had fallen silent as they watched her transformation from Queen to Goddess, now stirred and murmured. La could hear the sound of heavy steps approaching. She twisted her head as best she could and saw Boort, Kesh's paramour. Though he stood taller and more erect than his apish brothers, he was still a beast. La shuddered as he walked to her and stood between her legs. He looked down at her bare cunt, saliva dripping from his cruel mouth.

Kesh sneered, "Did you think you would die a virgin Queen? You have saved yourself for your Jungle Man in vain." She laughed a wicked laugh and nodded at the huge ape, poised between the legs of his Queen. Boort tore aside the loincloth that covered his gnarled member. He was enormous, his beastly cock the size of a child's arm, the head of it like a man's fist. La's delicate pussy, which had never known the pleasure of a man's entrance, would be torn apart. Boort stroked himself to hardness, the giant cock growing longer and thicker with each tug of his long-fingered hand. He wiped the drool from his mouth and wet the purpled head of his cruel weapon. He began to rub it against her netherlips, probing for entrance.

La screamed at him. "How dare you? I am your Queen and your priestess! I will call down the wrath of the Flaming God upon you! You and all who stand by and watch this desecration." But the beast men were not moved. They pressed forward to watch their Queen ravaged and raped, their small minds awash with thoughts of vengeance. La's fingernails dug into her palms and she ground her teeth, waiting for the terrible plunge of that massive cock into her virgin cunt.

But as Boort began to press his cockhead into her, the door of the dungeon slammed open. Into the room burst a huge lion. A length of chain hung from its neck and around each giant paw were the remains of leather tethers, freshly cut. The lion roared with rage and set about to kill everything in sight. The beast men scrambled to escape, but they fell, one after another, under the vicious swipes of those terrible claws. Those few brave enough to stand and fight were no match for the ravenous cat. Their heads were crushed by his powerful jaws or slapped from their necks by the deadly blows of Numa's paws. So intent was Boort at his cruel handiwork, he did not see the silent figure slipping through the chaos behind him. Just as he began to force his way into the sacred cunt of his Queen, his head was yanked back and long knife drank deep of his throat's blood. Red gushed from his neck to splash La's belly. He staggered away to die.

La felt cold steel sever her bonds and powerful hands snap the chains which crossed her chest. She rolled off the x-shaped table in time to see Kesh throw herself at her savior, all nails and teeth. But the Jungle Lord batted her aside with a backhanded swipe. He scooped La's naked form into his powerful arms, one hand between her legs, cupping her ass, the other around her back, pressing her bare breasts into his broad chest. With her thus clamped tightly to him, he bolted from the room and up the stairs to the royal chamber. The Beastmen were too busy dying to give chase.

In minutes the two were deep into the jungle, following the wide trails left by Tantor the elephant. The Jungle Lord, neither hearing nor smelling pursuit, paused and set La down. She threw herself back into his arms and covered his mouth with hot kisses. The Jungle Lord stood stoic for a moment, but he was a man and she was a woman and a naked woman at that. His thick cock began to rise and press against her bare, hairless belly. His keen sense of smell, honed by his years living as an ape, caught the scent of the wetness flowing between her legs. He reached down and rubbed his fingers over her bald cunt, then put them to his nose, breathing deep the scent of her lust. He smiled at her, then scooped her up and took to the trees.

He moved through the towering canopy as a gentleman would stroll down a promenade; with an effortless grace, La's naked body wrapped around his, her legs around his waist, her left arm over his shoulder, her right under his arm, hands clasped between his shoulders, breasts crushed against the rolling thunder of his chest. Her mouth was at his throat, and she kissed him there, and licked him. He released his hold on the bending limb that propelled them and they fell. Her beating heart stopped and a scream leapt from her chest. The Jungle Lord caught her ear between his teeth and bit, hard and quick, and she felt the blood on her neck. Her mind shrieked its death scream just as Greystoke lit on a long and seeking limb, which bent for them and lay them gently on the ground.

They were in a small clearing. A stream no wider than a man's stride trickled through it, green and muddy. The Jungle Lord tossed La to the ground and stood over her, his teeth red from her blood. She lay on the dank ground, seething with anger and lust. Her eyes took in her surroundings. She saw on the ground near her, the bodies of two great cats; a leopard and a panther. The leopard's throat was torn out, a puddle of blood surrounding its head. The panther was unbloodied, but its head was twisted backwards on its shoulders. Ska the vulture and his brothers had not been at them yet, but their black shapes circled in the sky. Great green flies drank the moisture from their lifeless eyes.

From a stout limb hung the three Huntresses of Opar. They were bound by the very leather straps that had covered their nakedness and held their weapons. The weapons were piled beneath their dangling feet. Their six wrists were lashed together and they hung, naked, their breasts mashed together. They began to curse and growl at the Jungle Lord who had bested them in battle and left them hanging like bait for the fell beasts of the forest. La paid them no mind. Her thoughts were of the Jungle Lord who had saved her life yet again. She gazed up at him, want in her eyes. He ignored her, and drew the knife of his father's from its sheath on his belt. He began to skin the great cats.

When he was done, he tossed the wet pelts over his shoulder and sheathed his knife. He strode over to the hanging women and took a long blade from the pile at their feet. He tossed it at La. It stuck in the ground between her now hairless legs. He spoke to her then, the first words he had spoken since her rescue. "When I have gone," he said, "cut them loose. They fought well, and bravely. They can escort you back to Opar, if you dare return. If they come after me, I will kill them. And you." He turned and walked to the forest's edge.

La snatched up the dagger and ran at him, a scream of rage rising from her throat. He spun and caught her upraised hand and twisted it around behind her back. She gasped with pain and dropped the blade to the ground. He crushed her body to him, her bare skin against his. She gazed up into his scolding eyes. He ran a hand over her shaven skull and a chuckle escaped his lips. Her lust and anger boiled and mingled. She began to kiss and lick the broad table of his chest. Her free hand sought the hardening cock hidden by the thin sack of leopard skin between his legs. She tore the loin cloth aside and gripped his shaft. It filled her small hand. It was as hard and thick as the muscled sinews of his forearm.