Parker: LADY JANE GREYSTONE'S REMARKABLE EXPERIMENT By Parker

[<Parker>]

PARKER23.TXT -- 1/3

LADY JANE GREYSTONE'S REMARKABLE EXPERIMENT
1/3
By Parker
an21...@anon.penet.fi

WARNING: This story involves a fair bit of non-consensual
sex, humiliation, domination and - last but not least -
bestiality. If this sort of fantasy offends you, then read
no further. That, in case you didn't notice, was a warning.

Copyright 1994 by Parker (me). Feel free to distribute the story
(unaltered, of course), but be discrete.
=================================================================

The horseshoe clack and rattle of the fading carriage had only just died
away down the cracked cobble of Bond Street when the carriage's recently
disgorged passenger reached the large oak door and rapped three times with the
brass handle of his cane. The door opened a few moments later, allowing a weak
candle glow of light to seep out and dissipate in the cool night fog.

A voice: "Sir!"

The man grimaced. "I left my keys at Windsor, I was in such a hurry." The
door opened wider and the man walked into the entrance hall. It was a small
room, with a passageway leading straight ahead and a stairway off to the side.
"I trust everything is in readiness," he said, standing impatiently while the
other man, a servant, removed his hat and jacket.

"Yes sir."

"And my friends? They've enjoyed dinner?"

An outburst of laughter sounded from above. The servant allowed himself a
quiet smile. "I believe so, sir."

The man nodded. "Good. I was concerned that my lateness might have upset
matters."

The servant stared blankly.

"Yes, well... you remember the arrangements?"

"Sir." The servant managed to look offended without changing his
expression.

The man nodded, a tiny smile reaching his lips. "Quite."

Another burst of laughter came from above.

"I suppose I should join them."

He turned away from the servant and climbed the stairs.

*****

"...and then I said to him: 'sir, my family has enjoyed noble status for
centuries. If you wish to claim monkeys in your lineage, that is your affair.
I'll thank you, sir, not to claim such for mine.'" The speaker, Lord Richard
Fleming, paused briefly to drain his wine glass while basking in the inevitable
laughter. When the merriment died down, he resumed speaking. "I thought he'd
have a stroke, he looked so angry." Lord Fleming dropped his voice and put on
an exaggerated cockney accent. "'But sir' he said, 'if you had taken the time
to read my book...' but I just looked at him and said 'My good man - and I use
that term under advisement - *I* do not read books written by monkeys." The
table erupted into a fresh round of laughter.

Sir Gerald Reid entered the dining room - his dining room - grinning at
the joke. "I say, Dickon, you might have waited with the stories. It's bad
enough I missed the meal..."

The fat Lord waved the newcomer silent, still wrapped in the throes of his
anecdote. "Then he said: 'my lord, I do not claim any such thing. Monkeys do
not write books.' Well, I looked him up and down and answered: '*I* know one
who does.'"

Gerald Reid grinned with appreciation as another round of laughter swept
the table. Dickon had been dining out on that story for months now, but it
never failed to incite amusement. Particularly from old Warrington. The tall,
wiry clergyman was rocking back and forth in his seat, roaring with
high-pitched laughter as tears ran down his angular face. Arch-Bishop
Warrington was one of Mr. Darwin's bitterest critics in England, having
declared the scientist's work "blasphemous" and calling for a ban on his book
'The Origin of Species' ever since it had been published two years ago.

Likewise, Sir William Buckman, the head of the geology department at
Oxford, was enjoying the tale of Darwin's discomfort. He too was an outspoken
critic of the naturalist's work. The heavily bearded academic let out a loud
belch of laughter as he finished his glass and reached for the whisky bottle.
"Well said, Dickon, well said. That man needs to be put in his place; he should
have stuck with barnacles and coral reefs and the like." He paused for a moment
as he poured himself a generous glass. "He's made himself a laughingstock with
his ridiculous monkey theory."

"Actually," Reid said, taking a seat at the table and reaching for a
glass, "it's a bit of a rum thing, finding you gentleman putting your mind to
this topic, as my story tonight deals with that very subject." He reached into
his jacket and pulled out a battered, leatherbound notebook. "And about Lady
Jane Greystone."

Buckman let out a braying laugh, dribbling whisky into his beard. "Her? A
humorous story, then?"

"I thought she'd disappeared some time ago," Fleming ventured, scratching
his neatly trimmed grey beard. "In Africa, or some such place."

"Indeed she did," Reid answered. "She was heading an expedition. With
Brooke."

"Rupert Brooke?" Buckman seemed surprised. "But I heard he was in India
now. After suffering a protracted fever."

"Oh, he was rather ill," Reid answered. "but he's quite recuperated now. I
saw him before he left." He patted the notebook. "He gave me this, and told me
what happened."

"In Africa?"

Reid nodded. "And I've since... shall I say, confirmed his information by
my own sources. I can assure you, then, that the story I'm about to tell you is
completely true. Every word."

The table fell silent for a moment.

"Well then," Warrington said, "perhaps you'd best get on with it then."

"Yes," Buckman agreed, finishing his whisky. "My interest is piqued."

"As is mine," agreed Fleming. "Do tell us."

"Well," Reid said looking pleased, "I shall."

*****

Annoyed, Lady Jane Greystone tossed her head and tried to push her thick,
auburn hair back over her shoulder, where it wouldn't interfere with her
writing. She normally tied back her long hair or wore it in a tight bun, but
she'd already let it loose in preparation for bed. Now it fell in unhampered,
distracting waves as she leaned over the sputtering oil lamp that kept the
darkness from her small tent and tried to write.

It was hopeless. She'd been staring at her notebook for a good fifteen
minutes now, but nothing came. Not enough sleep; too much excitement. The
dizzying discoveries of last few weeks were finally catching up with her. If
she was right, and she was quite certain that she was, she had discovered a new
species of ape. Or something. The creatures she had encountered were far more
advanced than any member of the great ape family previously known. Although
generally ape-like in appearance, the new species exhibited traces of
intelligence previously thought to be the exclusive domain of humanity. Some of
them were even constructing and using tools!

Unable to work or sleep, she turned back the pages and skimmed through
some earlier entries:

"...the proto-humans [as she had termed them] exhibit
the physical characteristics of both man and ape. They
are exceedingly hairy, and have the same long, well
muscled arms of the great ape family, but the facial
features and cranial development suggest a more
developed mental capacity.... and other physical
characteristics suggest a cross between the two
species; the genitals, while not as large as that of a
homo sapian [she blushed, reading this], are much
larger than that of the great ape..."

Inspired, she picked up her pen, flipped to the last passage and began to
write:

"I feel that I have found one of Mr. Darwin's
'numberless transitional links' regarding which he
predicted criticism. The evidence clearly shows that
the proto-humans are a 'closely allied and
representative species' of mankind."

*****

"Oh, nonsense." Buckman shook his head and took another deep pull on his
drink. "What absolute twaddle. Shows why women shouldn't get involved with
science."

"That may be," Fleming told him, "but we still want to hear the story." He
looked at Reid and grinned. "Nonsense as it may be." Warrington nodded in
agreement. "Do continue." Reid looked down at the notebook and resumed
reading...

*****

"As an experiment, we've been living among them for
almost two weeks now. We've begun to gain a rudimentary
understanding of their language, and they're beginning
to accept our presence. I believe that we're well on
our way to establishing their essential kinship with
humanity."

Overwhelmed by her own words, she put down the pen, shivering as she
considered the events of the last few weeks. Quite a discovery for anyone, but
for Jane Greystone, it meant vindication. Vindication for choosing a life of
science when that field was almost exclusively the domain of men. Vindication
for suffering the ridicule and taunts from those bastards at the university.
Vindication for the long, hard hours of study while her childhood friends
attended parties and plays and, eventually, married.

Marriage.

Sighing, she gazed blankly at the canvass side of her small, poorly lit
tent. Rupert. He was the only one who'd believed in her, who'd stood by her.
She almost imagined she could hear his quiet breathing from where he slept, in
the tent next to hers. But of course that was impossible.

Rupert. And those days on board...

No. She wouldn't think of that now. She had a job to do here. Even if
Rupert didn't understand that at present. Shaking her head, she picked up the
pen and stared down at her notebook. There'd be plenty of time for that later.
Once she'd completed her experiments here in Africa. Once she'd proven that
this new species of great ape was, indeed, Mr. Darwin's infamous missing
"transitional link". Once she'd shown the world that she was as good a
scientist as any man. Then she would be able to...

CRACK!

The chattering stillness of the African night was shattered by a gunshot.
Then another... and another... Shocked from her dreams of a triumphant return
to London, the englishwoman dropped her notebook and peered outside. The
campfire was still burning, still fighting off the shadows, but shed no light
on the source of the gunfire. Another shot rang out from the darkness
surrounding the camp. The shot was followed by shouting voices and screams of
panic and anger.

Panting with fear, Jane grabbed her father's old Springfield from where it
had been lying just inside the entrance to her tent. She pushed aside the flap
and moved outside - pausing for a moment as she realized that her tall, lithe
body was clad in nothing more than an oversized shirt and panties - and began
to run towards Rupert's tent. Another series of shots rang out from the
darkness surrounding the camp. Before she had covered half the distance between
the two tents, a man, nothing more than a dark shape in the flickerlight,
slammed into her, knocking her to the ground. By the time she cleared her hair
away from her face, the man was gone. She didn't know whether it was one of her
own men or an attacker.

Whoever they were.

She had just clambered to her knees when another man, silhouetted by the
fire, moved into her field of view. He was shouting orders in a native dialect.
A white man! Carrying a revolver. Jane swallowed; the only whites in her party
were herself and Rupert, and that wasn't Rupert.

Fighting to steady her breathing, she raised the heavy rifle to her
shoulder and took aim. The man walked slowly closer, not seeing her until her
was only half a dozen yards away. She couldn't miss. Staring down the barrel of
the rifle, Jane saw the man's eyes go wide in fear as she held her breath and
pulled the trigger...

*****

Jacques Manon staggered backward and fell on his ass. He looked down,
expecting to see his guts spilling out onto his lap, but there was nothing.

No wound.

He looked up. The gun must have misfired. The woman was pulling at the
lever, trying to dislodge the malfunctioning round and get a new one in the
chamber.

"Merde."

The frenchman pushed himself up off the ground and lunged at her. There
was a loud click as the new cartridge slipped into the chamber. The woman swung
the rifle around, but it was too late. Jacques was already too close. He
grabbed the barrel with one hand and jerked it away while striking the woman
across the face with his other hand. She let out a cry and fell backwards onto
the ground.

Panting, Manon got to his feet and tossed the heavy rifle away into the
bush. He walked over and picked up his revolver from where it had fallen and
went back to the woman. She glared up at him from the ground, but didn't move.

Jacques smirked and then looked around the camp. It was pretty much over.
His men, all experienced hunters through many years spent poaching, had made
short work of the porters and servants that had made up the white woman's camp.
That only left...

"Rupert!"

The englishwoman scrambled to her feet and began to run towards the centre
of the camp, where two of Manon's men dragged a struggling white man into the
firelight. Cursing, Manon grabbed at her, getting a fistful of cloth and
jerking her back onto her bare ass. There was a tearing sound and the poacher
caught of glimpse of white breast as the woman tried to twist free.

The white man renewed his efforts to break free when he saw the woman, but
one of his captors brought a pistol butt down on the back of his head and he
collapsed to the ground.

"Rupert!" The woman started to cry.

Manon looked at the men.

"<Is it done?>" he asked, mangling the native dialect.

The black man laughed. "<Yes,>" he answered. "<The dogs have either fled
or died. They will be running all the way back to the coast.>"

Manon nodded. "<Search the camp,>" he ordered. "<Take everything of value;
we must be gone by first light.>"

He turned his attention back to the englishwoman, who crouched at his
feet, glaring up at him through a curtain of hair. He let out a low,
appreciative whistle. Three days of watching from the jungle had not conveyed
to him just how beautiful she was. She was tall for a woman, with long legs and
a lithe, athletic figure. Her hair, a rich auburn, flowed thick and rich down
to the small of her back. That much he had seen from the distance. But up
close, even in the flickering light of the half-dead fire, she was
breathtaking. The woman had fair, english skin and a small, upturned nose over
a set of full, rich lips. Her eyes, large and grey, stared up at him from under
a thick curtain of hair as she panted - in anger? fear? - at his feet.

The poacher had originally planned to ransom her, unharmed and untouched,
but those plans fell by the wayside as he gazed down at her. He had been in the
jungle for months; it had been a long time since he had seen a woman and even
longer since he had seen a white woman.

And he had never, never seen a woman like this.

He had to have her.

To take her.

Now.

Growling, the frenchman grabbed the woman by her thick hair, pulled her to
her feet and shoved her, stumbling, into the weak firelight where she collapsed
to the ground. He walked quickly after her, his hands unfastening his belt as
he walked.

"No... oh no..."

The woman, her grey eyes wide, tried to scuttle away on her hand and
knees, but Jacques was too quick. He threw himself on top of her, pinning her
lithe body to the ground. Sobbing, she tried to squirm free, but couldn't. The
frenchman's rough hands slipped under the waist of her panties and tore them
away.

"You bastard!" She began to hit him on the side of the head, but he just
ignored her.

His cock felt like it was going to explode.

It had been too long.

Forcing her legs apart with his body weight, he manoeuvred himself so that
the engorged head of his cock was positioned right above her unwilling pussy.
With a sharp bark of lust, he rammed himself forward, burying his cock inside
of her with one violent shove. The woman's cries turned to screeches of agony
as his massive cock filled her dry, tight pussy.

"Noooo..." She bucked and twisted beneath him, struggling madly to pull
her body away the impaling cock, but her movements only served to increase his
excitement. A thin line of spittle trickled out of his open mouth and onto her
face as he grabbed her ass and began to pump his cock brutally in and out of
her.

"Ahhh..."

It didn't take long. Within moments, he stiffened and shot his load into
her belly. The woman stopped struggling and started to cry as she felt his hot
semen fill her pussy and dribble out onto her ass. She lay limp as he pumped
twice more and then pulled out, leaving a thick glob of cum glistening in her
curly pubic hair.

"Nice," he grunted. "You make a good whore." Grinning, he leaned down and
brought his lips against hers for a kiss. She gasped and tried to turn away,
but he forced his tongue into her mouth. Their eyes were inches apart as he
slowly explored the inside of her mouth and then pulled away as she gagged
beneath him. He drew in a breath to say something, but was interrupted by a
glob of spittle right in his eye.

She'd spat at him.

"Bitch! English bitch." He rolled off of her and got to his feet, wiping
the spittle from his face. "I'm not good enough, eh?" He gestured at the black
men that stood, watching, from the shadowed edge of the firelight. "Maybe black
flesh is more to your liking."

The woman's eyes widened and she began to scream anew...

*****
"I say!"

"You mean..." Warrington looked confused. "He... raped her?"

"Yes," Reid confirmed. "You take my meaning exactly."

Silence...

Buckman finished his drink and began to pour another.

"Well?"

"Do go on," Fleming urged, his face flushed.

*****

Lady Jane Greystone twisted and writhed in her bonds, her lithe, half-clad
body glowing a deep red where the belt had struck it and glistening with pain
sweat in the weak firelight. Her naked arms were tied at the wrist and spread
apart in a Y shape above her head by two ropes which led upwards to tree
branches. Clad only in the torn shirt that fell to just below her waist, the
englishwoman cried out in mindless pain as Manon's belt struck her ass and
lower back again and again. Her pussy and inner thighs, clearly visible every
time her torn shirt fluttered open, glistened with rivers of half-dried cum.

She'd already been fucked by half a dozen of the frenchman's men before
Manon had grown bored with the sport. She had cried and struggled madly through
the first few rapes, but, after realizing there was nothing she could do to
stop it, she'd just laid there, limp and unresisting as the black men had
fucked her body.

Her mind drifted, somewhere far away.

Somewhere pleasant.

Manon's men hadn't seemed to mind, pumping away at her and grunting like
animals, but Manon quickly flew into a rage. Cursing, he'd jerked the last man
off of her just as he came. She'd flinched a bit as his hot cum splattered her
stomach and face, but even that hadn't disturbed her sense of detachment. The
frenchman had shouted something at her, something that sounded like "...not
good enough... english whore should fuck like an english whore...", but again
it seemed far away. Like it was happening to someone else. It wasn't until they
tied her wrists and strung her up under the tree that brutal reality shattered
her sense of detachment.

The first blow of the belt dispelled all sense of peace.

By the fifth blow, she'd become a tortured, screaming animal...

END PART ONE
=================================================================
As usual, I am interested in any comments you may have
regarding this story, or any of my other stories.

PARKER23.TXT -- 2/3

LADY JANE GREYSTONE'S REMARKABLE EXPERIMENT
2/3
By Parker
an21...@anon.penet.fi

WARNING: This story involves a fair bit of non-consensual
sex, humiliation, domination and - last but not least -
bestiality. If this sort of fantasy offends you, then read
no further. That, in case you didn't notice, was a warning.

Copyright 1994 by Parker (me). Feel free to distribute the story
(unaltered, of course), but be discrete.
=================================================================

Manon paused for a moment, gasping for breath. The woman hung limp and
sopping, but he could see that she had not fainted. Her grey eyes glistened
helplessly at him from beneath auburn hair. Grinning, the frenchman walked
forward, grabbed a fistful of that hair and jerked her face upwards.

"Are you ready to fuck, whore?"

*****

Jane worked her tongue, trying vainly to produce enough moisture to spit
in the bastard's face. Her mouth and throat were too dry; all screamed out. So
she contented herself by whispering three words: "Go... to... hell..."

The poacher frowned and stepped back, the belt dangling loose in his hand.
Jane drew a shuddering breath and closed her eyes, waiting for the impact. Her
only consolation was that Rupert wasn't awake to see this... to see her
tortured - degraded - like this. She opened her eyes and glanced over at where
he lay, securely tied and still unconscious, beside the fire.

Rupert!

*****

Manon lowered the belt and looked over at the bound man. He had followed
her gaze and seen the look in her eyes. A smirk crept over his face. He knew
how to convince the whore...

*****

Jane felt a moment of relief when the poacher dropped the belt, but that
feeling was quickly replaced by one of panic as he walked over to the
unconscious Rupert, sliding a wicked-looking hunting knife free of its sheath.
She felt her stomach turn as he bent over, jerked the unconscious englishman's
head up by his hair and placed the blade of the knife against the exposed
throat. The honed metal glinted in the firelight.

She couldn't help herself. "No..." Her voice was hoarse, rasping...
"Please..."

The poacher looked at her, his eyes a pair of dead, black holes. "Your
choice," he shrugged. "Fuck like the whore you are, or he dies."

The englishwoman felt her resistance seep away at those horrible words.
She could bear the physical abuse - she had no choice - but she couldn't allow
anything to happen to Rupert.

Dear Rupert!

He had proposed to her on the voyage from England. She had told him "no",
wanting to prove herself as a scientist before becoming a wife, but she had
always intended it to be a temporary refusal. Rupert had been hurt at the time,
but she knew it was for the best; she would make it up to him later. But now...
now it looked like Rupert might die, without ever knowing how she felt about
him.

She couldn't allow that.

She wouldn't.

"I'll do what you want."

She went limp, hanging loosely by her wrists.

She was broken.

Grinning, the frenchman let go of Rupert and got to his feet. He handed
his knife to one of his men and walked over to the hanging woman. Standing
directly in front of her, he slipped down his pants. To her dismay, she saw
that his cock was hard again, despite his having come inside her less than an
hour ago.

Bracing herself, she waited to be raped.

The man just stood there, grinning at her. His teeth were bad. "You don't
understand," he told her. "You're the whore here; you're going to fuck me, not
the other way around." He looked over to where his man stood over Rupert with
the knife. "If I haven't come in ten minutes - if you haven't made me come -
your man is dead." He punctuated his remark with a light slap at her barely
covered breasts. "Understand?"

Her eyes filled with tears, Jane nodded.

"Then get to it. Whore."

Terrified by the threat, Jane began to move. Her arms were still tied high
above her head, so she swung her long, naked legs around behind the man's ass
and pulled him in towards her. Grinning, the frenchman allowed himself to be
pulled. Groaning with pain and humiliation, she spread her thighs and thrust
her crotch at his stiff cock, trying desperately to capture it in her open
pussy. It kept sliding over her crotch. Her efforts became increasingly
desperate as the seconds ticked by and she was unable to get him inside her.

Finally, she looked up at him, grey eyes wide and tear-filled: "Please,"
she whispered. "Oh, please..."

"Whore."

Smirking, he reached down and positioned his cockhead against the entrance
to her abused pussy. She almost groaned with relief as she pulled with her legs
and felt his cock slide deep within her. It hurt a bit, but the friction was
lessened by the large deposits of cum left behind by the earlier rapes. She
closed her eyes for a moment, blocking out the view; the important thing was to
protect Rupert!

"Let's go, whore." The man slapped her thigh, naked where her shirt had
ridden up her back.

Swallowing her revulsion, Lady Jane Greystone started to fuck the
frenchman. Using her lithe, muscular legs, she humped herself up and down on
his rigid cock, careful not to let it pop loose from her pussy. Her arms began
to ache, but she kept pumping. After a few minutes, the frenchman began to
breath heavier. He brought up his hands and began to play with her small, firm
breasts through the torn material of her shirt.

"Faster," he ordered.

Conscious of the passing seconds, Jane obeyed. She didn't know how much
time she had left, but it couldn't be long. Sweat dripped from her beautiful,
aristocratic face as she increased the pace of her movement, sliding her now
sopping pussy up and down on the frenchman's pole.

"Uh... uh..."

His cock made loud squelching sounds as it pumped in and out of her pussy.
The poacher's men heard the sound and laughed. One of them began to imitate the
sound, and a fresh wave of laughter overtook the group. The frenchman grinned.
"Time's running out," he told her, nodding towards Rupert. "Tell me how much
you like it; how you liked to be fucked. I like a foul mouthed whore."

Jane winced at his words, but the man's angry glance in Rupert's direction
convinced her to do what she was told. "I... uh... I like it... I like to be...
uh... to be f-fucked... uh... uh..." Her moans of mock passion were
interspersed with quiet grunts her drove his cock into her. "I... uh... I...
love..."

The frenchman grimaced. "You'll have to do better than that, you english
whore." He gestured to someone standing behind the bound englishwoman. "If your
boyfriend's life isn't enough..."

CRACK!

"Ahhh!!!"

The sudden sting of the belt on her naked, sweaty ass sent the bound woman
twisting and squirming in paroxysms of pain. "No... please, I like it... I like
fucking... uh... fucking you... please... Ahh..." The belt landed again and
again, sending waves of pain through the woman's desperate, abused body. "Oh
yes... oh yesss... fuck me... ahhh..." Desperately, she redoubled her efforts
to make the poacher come, bouncing and twisting on his cock like a madwoman. As
she did so, a feeling began to grow in her pussy.

"That's a proper slut," he panted, his prisoner's efforts at last having
an affect. "A real whore."

"Yes... oh, yes... I'm a proper slut... a whore..."

CRACK!

Her voice rose to a scream: "Ahhh... oh please... oh god, oh god...
please... uhh... please come..." All modesty forgotten, the englishwoman bucked
and writhed on the man's cock, frantically bouncing it in and out of her aching
pussy while screaming like a lust crazed whore. "Please fuck me... uh... uh...
oh, yes... I'm a..."

CRACK!

"...ahhh... a slut... uh... uhh... a whore..."

Against her will, she began to feel a spark of lust growing in her pussy.
She fought against it, shamed to her core, but was helpless as the frenchman's
cock fanned the spark into a fire.

CRACK!

"Ahhh... oh yes... oh yes... oh god, yes..." Her passion, at first
feigned, became increasingly real. Eyes closed, she imagined herself in
Rupert's arms... touching Rupert's chest... his warm, blue eyes looking into
her's... "Oh yes... uh... uh... please... please... ahh..."

"Merde!"

It was too much for the frenchman. He gripped her thighs and jerked her
captive, writhing body into his own, ramming his cock as far as possible up her
sluttish, spasming pussy. With a loud groan, he stiffened and came, shooting
ropes of hot, white cum into her belly. Now frantic with lust, Jane jerked her
body back and forth in his bruising grip, desperately fighting to create enough
friction to send her over the edge. But it was no use. As soon as he finished
coming, the frenchman let go of her hips and stepped away.

Reality struck her, driving the breath from her lungs as she opened her
eyes to see the poacher spit into the fire while he did up his pants. Dazed,
Jane hung by her wrists, staring at the circle of black faces that surrounded
her. What had happened to her? What was that... that feeling? She choked back a
sob as a glob of warm cum trickled out of her pussy and dribbled down her
thigh.

The frenchman grinned at her with decaying teeth. "Now, my men," he told
her. "And be a good whore."

In seconds, the bonds on her wrists were cut and she was flat on her back
beside the fire with her legs spread. One of the black men fell on top of her
and, without delay, jammed his cock into her sopping pussy. Confused, she lay
there for a moment, passively letting him pump his cock into her, but then the
frenchman's voice came from the darkness a few yards away: "That's not how a
whore behaves."

She turned her head to see him crouched beside Rupert, the knife glinting
in his hand.

Tears streamed down her face as she turned her attention to the man lying
on top of her. Choking back her shame and revulsion, she wrapped her long legs
around behind his body and began to fuck back at him, raising her hips off the
ground to meet his frantic thrusts. The man laughed and brought his lips down
to hers.

She closed her eyes and tried to imagine Rupert.

"Whore."

Bringing her arms up around behind the man's head, she opened her mouth
and tasted his tongue...

*****

Darkness.

Pain.

Light...

More pain...

Rupert Brooke slowly worked his way towards a pain-drenched half
consciousness. The jumbled recollections of the last few moments before the
pistol butt smashed the awareness from him tumbled chaotically through his
brain: lying on his cot, thinking, as always, of Jane; the jungle going
ominously silent; the shots, the screams, feeling of helpless terror as he
emerged from his tent to see his men being slaughtered like...

Then another shot, close by... and a scream.

A woman's scream.

Jane!

Turning, running, falling... and then, finally, the guttural laugh... the
two black men grabbing him... a struggle... Jane... and a split panic second
peripheral glimpse of the pistol butt flashing towards his temple...

Darkness...

Pain...

Rupert Brooke opened his eyes.

At first, everything was a muddled haze of colour and light as his eyes
slowly adjusted to the doomed, flickering radiance of the fire. A group of
black men were standing, watching something going on beside the fire. He didn't
recognize them. The attackers. What were... Stifling a groan, the bound man
struggled to focus his gaze on the object of their attention.

Jane!

But what...

She was lying on the ground, well within the firelit circle of
illumination. She was on her back and seemed to be naked except for the ripped
cloth of a shirt which was bunched up around her upper body. A man was on top
of her; a black man! He was propping himself up on his elbows while moving his
hips... while he was... Brooke's mind couldn't comprehend, couldn't find the
words to express what was happening in front of his eyes.

Jane?

While he watched with aching eyes, the englishwoman wrapped her
sweat-glistening legs around the black man and began to hump her crotch up
against him, riding his cock like an experienced whore. "Ohh..." She let out a
quiet moan of lust as the man increased the force of his movement. "Oh yesss...
uh... lovely..." She reached around with her naked arms and pulled the man's
face down to her own. "Mmmmm..." To the englishman's stunned senses, the kiss
seemed to last forever, and the they finally broke apart, their tongues were
clearly visible, entwined in the dull glow of the fire.

Jane?

"Ohhh... ah... ah... ah..."

The bound englishman watched, nauseated with horror as the two lovers
orgasmed simultaneously. The black man just grunted and froze. The englishwoman
let out a series of sluttish whimpers as she bucked and writhed on his cock and
then stiffened with a loud cry, her back arching up off the ground. "Yesss..."

Done, the man pulled his cock out and crawled away.

Jane was given no respite. Another black man grabbed her by her thick,
auburn hair, jerked her to her knees and pulled her down on top of him. The
woman looked stunned for a moment, but then realized what was expected of her
and melted into the man's arms. Grimacing slightly, she reached down with
experienced fingers, positioned the man's rigid cock as she wanted it, and then
slid down, slowly enveloping it in her pussy. "Ohhh... god, yes." She paused
for a moment when it was finally fully inside of her, savouring the feeling.
Then, with a quiet whimper, she began to move her hips, sliding her pussy up
and down on the man's cockshaft.

"Yesss... yes... fuck me...."

Brooke felt himself - his heart - go numb as he listened to her sluttish
whining. Could this be the woman he loved? The woman he'd asked to marry him?
The woman who, the one time they had made love, had insisted that the room be
pitch black?

"Oh yess... uh... uh... fuck me hard..."

Just as the Brooke was certain that another word would drive him mad, a
second black man walked up in front of the moaning englishwoman and stuck his
cock in her face. She smiled. And, by the flickering light, Brooke could
plainly see the crusty, dried cum on her lips and chin. So it was no surprise
when she reached up with a free hand and guided the man's cock into her open
mouth. Her whimpers became obscure moans around the black flesh of her gag, but
Brooke had no difficulty identifying them for what they were: the sounds of a
bitch in heat. A whore plying her trade. There was no fear, no innocence...
only lust.

Unable to help himself, the englishman let out a cry of anger and despair
and began to struggle in his bonds. He heard laughter behind him, and a sudden
burst of pain in the back of his head sent him tumbling back into not-unwelcome
darkness.

Jane...

*****

She fought back the urge to vomit as yet another load of hot, sticky cum
filled her mouth, bubbled up into her nose and over her lips and, finally, slid
down her throat. She'd coughed up a load earlier, spewing it upwards all over
her face and breasts. A flurry of blows with the belt as well as the
ever-present threat to Rupert had spurred her to greater effort. Now, more of
less numb with the seemingly endless fucking and sucking, she swallowed it down
like a professional whore, all the time begging and whining for more.

She had lost count of the number of men she had satisfied with her body.
Her world was a blur of firelight and shadow, sweaty black bodies and hot,
white cum. And cocks... an endless supply of warm, sticky cocks for her to
fondle and lick and kiss and nuzzle and rub and, always, sliding in and out of
her loose, sopping pussy. The squelching sound of the cocks as she bounced and
squirmed and gyrated her pussy up and down no longer disgusted her; she was
merely grateful for the lubrication. The dark passion she'd felt earlier with
the frenchman still fluttered and flickered occasionally, but was pretty much
non-existent.

"Ahh... oh, yesss..."

The moans and whimpers had likewise become almost automatic. The men
seemed to like them - to require them - so she did it. Every time a new cock
slid into her, she'd squeal and let out a deep groan, like a bitch in heat.
Every time a new cock was shoved into her face, she'd reach for it eagerly,
moaning and whimpering in mock anticipation. And, whenever she felt the cock in
her pussy start to pump cum, she'd increase the tempo of her squealing until
she herself cried out in fake ecstasy.

It was what they wanted.

So she did it.

Again and...

A commotion erupted at the other side of the camp. She was so far lost in
her daze of cocks and sperm and mock lust that she didn't notice at first that
something was happening. The screams... the pounding of feet as men ran back
and forth in and out of the dim firelight... the cries and shouts... it wasn't
until someone actually discharged a rifle only a few yards away from where she
lay fucking that the englishwoman realized that something was happening.

The man who had been fucking her pulled out, his still hard cock
momentarily attached to her pussy by a long trail of cum and sweat. He tried to
scramble to his feet, but something grabbed him by from behind and slammed his
face down hard into the packed earth. Jane let out a scream as the large, hairy
shape leaned down, twisting the man's head and neck until there was a loud
snapping sound the man ceased screaming. The hairy creature let out a
triumphant cry and melted back into the shadows.

Shocked to awareness, Jane looked around the camp. Chaos reigned. She
couldn't see the frenchman, but his men were fleeing in panic, shouting and
screaming at the top of their lungs as the... creatures fell upon them from the
jungle shadows. In her confused state, it took her a few moments to realize
what they were.

Her apes.

The subjects of her experiment.

Her proto-humans.

But what... what were they doing? They'd never acted like this before.
They had seemed so peaceful... so docile. Jane stared, wide-eyed as one of her
docile, peaceful creatures wrapped its long, muscular arms around a poacher's
chest and sunk his teeth into the man's neck. The creature's victim kicked and
struggled wildly as his severed jugular spat gouts of dark blood in a long arc
into the fire, where it sizzled and spat. Overwhelmed, she turned over and
retched, coughing up mouthfuls of cum and bile onto the packed earth. When her
stomach stopped heaving, she staggered to her feet and began to stagger towards
her tent.

It was a mistake.

One of the hairy figures looked up at her from where it had been mauling a
dead poacher. Growling, it dropped the broken body and shambled over towards
the frightened woman. She let out a scream and broke into a half-run, but the
creature easily closed the distance. She tried to run, but stumbled over a body
and fell. Letting out an cry of atavistic triumph, the dark haired half-ape
caught up and stood over her. Her eyes went wide as the animal grabbed her by
the shoulders and pulled her up off the ground. It was one of the creatures she
had been studying as part of her experiment. She had spent the afternoon with
him, being with him... playing with him... communicating with...

Communicating!

The half-ape's teeth were inches from her bare neck when she had gathered
her wits enough to let out a high, piercing cry, a greeting sound. The animal
stopped, closed its mouth and looked at her. Encouraged - she wasn't going to
die! - she did it again. Then again. The creature looked puzzled, but, after an
eternity, gave an answering scream and let go of her shoulder. Almost fainting
with relief, the englishwoman pulled herself up until she stood in a hunched
over position. She began making quiet grunts and squeals, doing her best to
imitate the normal vocal sounds of the half-apes, using all the knowledge she'd
gained in two weeks of living and trying to communicate with them. It seemed to
be working. The half-ape moved back a couple of feet and seemed to calm down a
bit. The madness left its eyes.

Still grunting, the englishwoman began to shuffle away, moving awkwardly
towards her tent. She'd covered only half the distance when she felt the
creature's heavy, long-fingered hand on her shoulder, pushing her downward. She
let out a loud squeal, doing her best to sound like one of the half-apes, but
that only seemed to encourage it. Forced down by the pressure on her shoulder,
Jane dropped to her hands and knees, still grunting and squealing desperately.
It wasn't until the creature dropped its weight onto her back and she felt
something warm and fleshy rubbing against her thigh that she realized what was
happening. Two hours - a lifetime - ago, she wouldn't have been capable of
interpreting the creature's actions, but her recent experiences had given her
that capacity.

The creature was trying to fuck her.

She let out a horrified, very human scream and tried to scuttle away on
her hands and knees. The half-ape just growled, pinning her with its weight,
and she felt hot breath on her neck as its fangs scraped her shoulder. Jane
immediately stopped trying to escape and let out a series of squeals and
grunts. Mollified, the creature stopped growling, but stayed on top of her. She
felt its penis, larger than that of most apes, but still smaller than a human's
penis, sliding along the inside of her thighs, leaving a warm trail of fluid.
She bit her lip, trying not to scream as the creature pumped its hips back and
forth, trying... trying...

It finally found the right angle, and the half-ape's cock slid easily into
her sopping pussy. The englishwoman let out a quiet grunt at the insertion, but
didn't try to escape. The important thing was to survive. The shame and
humiliation were great, but it didn't really hurt; her pussy was already slack
and swampy with spent cum, and it was better than being mauled. Anxious to keep
the half-ape calm, she continued to emit guttural grunts and squeals. Maybe it
would come quickly and leave her alone. She gazed longingly at her tent, only a
few yards distant.

On top of her, the half-ape began to piston its cock brutally back and
forth inside of her. Jane dropped her head and braced herself against the
onslaught; how long could the creature last? Still grunting like one of the
half-apes, she closed her eyes and tried desperately to ignore what was
happening to her body: the musky, animal smell of the creature... the feel of
its thick, matted fur through her torn shirt... the line of drool which dripped
from the creature's mouth and left a glistening trail down her naked
shoulder... its long, hard cock, sliding in and out... in and out... in and
out...

With a start, she realized that she was pushing her ass back against the
creature's cock... fucking it back. Not satisfied, the dark lust which had been
present in her body during the earlier rapes began to burn in her pussy. The
half-ape's thrusts, crude as they were, were having an effect. Her traitor
body, making no distinction between a man's cock and the creature's cock, was
responding.

"Nooo..."

A wave of horror and shame swept through her as she realized what was
happening, but she couldn't help herself. Her body was doing what it had to do
in order to survive.

"Ahhh... ugh... ugh..." Her atavistic grunts slowly turned to pants of
lust as she pumped back harder and harder, forcing the creature's cock as far
as possible into her hungry pussy. It just wasn't long enough! Breathing
heavily, she spread her legs a little further and fucked back against the
creature as hard as she could.

END PART TWO
=================================================================
As usual, I am interested in any comments you may have
regarding this story, or any of my other stories.

PARKER23.TXT -- 3/3

LADY JANE GREYSTONE'S REMARKABLE EXPERIMENT
3/3
By Parker
an21...@anon.penet.fi

WARNING: This story involves a fair bit of non-consensual
sex, humiliation, domination and - last but not least -
bestiality. If this sort of fantasy offends you, then read
no further. That, in case you didn't notice, was a warning.

Copyright 1994 by Parker (me). Feel free to distribute the story
(unaltered, of course), but be discrete.
=================================================================

Rupert Brooke awoke to a nightmare.

Bodies littered the camp.

Half-apes, the very creatures he had been living among and studying with
Jane, their black fur matted and sticky with gore, shambled about like darkest
Africa made flesh and bone.

And Jane, the woman he loved, was braced on her hands and knees, her head
thrown back and eyes wild with lust as one of the creatures brutally fucked his
cock in and out of her from behind. The female scientist was emitting high
pitched squeals of lust as the creature pounded away at her, thrusting her hips
back against it in desperate, sluttish heat. As he watched, her squeals began
to come faster and faster... matching the thrusts of her bestial lover...

CRACK!

A gunshot split the night. The creatures froze in place for a moment and
then melted away into the jungle shadows. As though they had never been.

"Nooo..."

The creature fucking Jane had pulled away, to the woman's evident
distress. Brooke watched, helpless with disgust and horror, as the half-ape
gathered the englishwoman under one hairy arm and carried her off into the
pitch darkness. He tried to yell... to do something, anything, but a sudden
wave of pain and nausea pulled him down into his own darkness.

*****

Silence.

Then: "My god, man," Buckman muttered drunkenly. "You don't expect us to
believe that, do you? Preposterous!" The other two listeners looked equally
doubtful.

Reid smiled. "Oh no," he answered. "I certainly wouldn't expect you to
believe it. Not without proof." He reached over to the wall and pulled twice on
a bell rope. "Which," he told them, "is exactly what I've arranged."

A set of double doors opened on the other side of the room.

"Good lord!"

With a quiet rumble, a large cage was wheeled into the dining room by a
group of short, dark men. The men, African pygmies, were dressed in some sort
of traditional finery, complete with brightly coloured loincloths, flashing
jewellery and feathered headdresses. They each carried long sticks, almost
spears, and were chanting quietly as they pushed the cage towards the stunned
englishmen.

It was, however, the contents of the cage which captured the men's
attention after the first few moments. It contained a woman. A white woman. She
was half-crouched against the back of the enclosure, her white-knuckled hands
gripping the bars, but they could make out her features well enough.

It was, of course, Lady Jane Greystone.

But a much changed Lady Jane Greystone.

Gone was the haughty manner and sharp intelligence that had so scandalized
english academia over much of the last decade. Gone was the keen wit and sharp
tongue that had dissected many a preconception. In its place was a scared,
scarred, confused creature, huddling pathetically in its cage.

And her appearance...

Her face still retain much of its former aristocratic beauty, but it had
been fitted with some exotic jewellery. A large, golden ring hung down from her
nose. It was attached by two short, slender chains to what appeared to be a
pair of silver studs fitted halfway up her tongue. As a result of this
arrangement, she was unable to pull her tongue all the way back into her mouth.
It hung out from between her lips, causing a thin line of drool to trickle
permanently down her chin. Two, smaller rings through her lower lip completed
the facial jewellery.

And that was the least of the changes. Her long, auburn hair had been
weaved into dozens of thick strands, and those strands were threaded through
brightly coloured beads. They stuck out in all directions, giving her a wild,
unearthly look. Her ears had been pierced numerous times, and a number of large
golden hoops dangled down and were themselves attached to long strings of beads
which trailed down her body.

And she was naked.

The pygmies pushed the cage into place a few yards away from the table and
stopped chanting. A few of the pygmies left the room as Jane shifted uneasily
in her cage. The men gawked in amazement as the small bells attached to the
golden rings through her nipples tinkled merrily.

"Gentlemen," Reid said expansively, standing and walking over to the cage,
"I give you Her Ladyship, Jane Greystone, recently returned from a most
successful expedition into Africa to locate proof of Mr. Darwin's theory of
evolution." The creature in the cage - the woman - looked up at Reid as he
spoke. Recognition dawned in her face, but the flash of hope was quickly wiped
away as Reid turned and gestured for another cage to be pulled into the room.

"Oouuww... oouuwww..."

Unable to pull her tongue into her mouth, the woman's cries of protest
were unintelligible howls. Again and again, she threw herself against the bars
of her cage, thrusting her bronzed, naked arms out towards the men sitting at
the table while her nipple bells tinkled.

Imploring... begging for help.

None was forthcoming.

The men just sat there, stunned into silence as a second, larger cage was
pulled into the room. It contained a creature which could only have been one of
the half-apes they had recently heard described. It was a disturbing sight:
certainly ape-like in general appearance, but without the low sloping forehead
and prominent chin. And its eyes... the englishmen shifted uncomfortably as the
creature's eyes slid over them. Looking at them. There was a strange glint
of... of something.

Intelligence?

The half-ape turned its attention to the imprisoned englishwoman as the
two cages were fitted together and locked in place with large clamps. With the
ease of long practice, the pygmies unfastened the interior walls and pulled out
a section of bars.

The two cages were now one.

"Oouuwww... ouuwww... weeethee..." Panicked, Lady Jane continued to howl
unintelligibly as the half-ape shambled towards her. One of the pygmies shouted
something at her, but she ignored him, still clinging to the bars of her cage.
The man shouted again. "Oouuwww... oouuwww..."

When he saw that his words were having no effect, the small man grabbed a
long switch from one of the other pygmies and began whipping the woman through
the bars.

"I say..." Buckman was halfway to his feet before Reid grabbed his
shoulder and pulled him back down. More than a little intoxicated, the bearded
academic fell back without a struggle.

"I'll continue my story," Reid said, pouring his friend another drink. The
pygmy continued to whip the sobbing woman while Reid spoke: "After Brooke told
me his tale, I was sceptical, but I began keeping my ear to the ground for any
news, any evidence whatsoever, which would support his story. I had almost
disregarded the entire tale as a feverish delusion when I learned of a new...
'exhibit' making the rounds of certain establishments in the south of France."

The sobbing woman finally gave in. Letting go of the bars, she crouched
down on all fours and crawled towards the half-ape as her breasts swayed and
tinkled beneath her. While Reid spoke, the men watched, half in horror, half in
lust, as she reached over and, still snuffling, began to stroke the creature's
penis. The half-ape growled menacingly, but she emitted a quiet squeal and it
calmed down. When its penis grew hard, she leaned forward and took it in her
mouth, careful to avoid the slender chains which linked her nose ring to her
tongue. The half-ape let out a quiet cooing sound as the woman sucked...

"I investigated, and quickly discovered that the exhibit did, indeed,
involve our Lady Jane. A certain Belgian, who shall remain nameless, had
discovered her quite accidentally about a year ago. His hunting party came
across a large pack of these animals in the Congo. His men slaughtered most of
them, and captured the remainder as curiosities. To his surprise, he discovered
a white women living among them as one of them."

After about thirty seconds of avid sucking, the englishwoman pulled her
mouth from the half-ape's now rigid cock, moaning as a trail of spittle
dribbled down onto her chest. Mortified, she glanced over at the table, but saw
no help there; no sympathy. The men were watching with lust; nothing more.
Letting out a quiet whimper of despair, she turned around on all fours so that
she was facing the table with her ass presented to the half-ape. Tears trickled
down her face as she let out a series of high pitched squeals and wiggled her
ass. The half-ape answered them with a low grunting sound and began pushing his
groin against her proffered ass. Grunting like an animal, the englishwoman
reached down between her legs, grasped the creature's cock and guided it into
her pussy with experienced ease.

"His expedition was not a success, and our Belgian fell upon hard times
soon afterward. So, immediately upon reaching Marsaillies, he sold the apes to
the circus. I am reliably informed that Jane had been most 'uncooperative' on
the voyage from Africa, so she was included in the transaction. The circus
people put her and the creatures into the care of a group of pygmies that had
been travelling with the circus, and, with a few cosmetic changes, mostly to
stop her from speaking, she quickly became 'The Wild Woman of the Dark
Continent'. By day, she was exhibited in a freak show. By night..." He gestured
at the cage. "She put on a different kind of show."

One of the pygmies began beating a small drum in time with the half-ape's
crude thrusts. The small Africans began to chant and move slowly around the
cage, half-dancing, half-walking in time with the drum. The three englishmen
look startled, but Reid reassured them: "Oh, it's part of the show." The
half-ape let out a guttural cry and began to pump harder and faster. The tempo
of the dancing and chanting followed his pace, and the pygmies began to move
faster and faster.

Inside the cage, Lady Jane Greystone's aristocratic face was flushed red
and glistening with sweat as she fucked her ass back against the creature. A
thin line of spittle drooled out of her open mouth down to the cage floor as
she braced herself with one hand against the bars of the cage and used the
other to stimulate herself, first by rubbing and scratching her naked breasts
and then sliding it down between her legs. All the while, she kept screeching
and squealing in the guttural tones of the half-ape, matching him thrust for
thrust as her obvious passion grew. Eyes closed, she seemed to forget where she
was - forget *who* she was -and lose herself in lust. Her passion continued to
build along with that of her bestial lover. The pair moved increasingly faster
and the music likewise rose in volume and tempo. Finally, the half-ape grabbed
her hips, ground his crotch against her ass and let out a wild cry of pleasure.
Lady Jane frantically humped her ass back against his hips as best she could
for a few moments and then she too let out a loud scream of pleasure,
grovelling sluttishly on the floor of the cage as she came. The pygmies, who
had stopped dancing when the half-ape stopped moving, let out whoops and cries,
laughing and celebrating as the englishwoman twitched and spasmed in orgasm,
impaled on the half-ape's cock.

"Ahh... ahh..."

The men were silent for a few moments, mesmerized as Lady Jane panted and
twitched in the cage, her orgasm running its course. The half-ape let go of
her hips, and she fell, limp and soaking to the floor of her cage. Using their
long sticks, the pygmies forced the creature into its own cage and inserted the
bars. In moments, the half-ape was being wheeled away.

Reid looked at his friends.

"My god..." The men were stunned. "That was..."

"Perfect!" Lord Fleming burst out, erupting into laughter. "Bloody
perfect." Reid relaxed slightly as Buckman and Warrington joined the fat Lord
in laughter. The pygmies soon joined in, and the whole room rang with mirth. "A
perfect vocation for the little hellcat," Lord Fleming continued, still
chuckling. "She wanted to prove that ape's could be human beings... now she's
proved that human beings, or at least women, can be apes." A fresh wave of
laughter swept the room.

As it died down, Buckman glanced appraisingly at the caged englishwoman.
"I say, Reid," he ventured, slurring his words. "You don't suppose that we
could... I mean..."

"But of course," Reid told him, gesturing at the pygmies. "That's what
she's here for. As of last month, that 'service' forms part of her show."

"Ha..." Lord Fleming got to his feet, heaving his massive bulk out of his
padded chair. "In that case, gentlemen, I'll claim privilege of rank."

"But of course, your Lordship," Reid laughed.

The fat englishman got up and walked towards the cage where the pygmies,
who knew what was coming next, opened the side of the enclosure. Inside, Lady
Jane looked up with a mixture of terror and despair in her eyes, but didn't try
to pull away. She too knew well what was going to happen. Lord Fleming came to
a halt immediately in front of her. Choking back a sob, she reached up with a
trembling hand and began to unfasten the fat Lord's belt.

"Well trained little monkey, isn't she?" the man bellowed.

A tear ran down her face, but she didn't flinch. When the man's rigid cock
finally popped free, she immediately swallowed it into her mouth between the
slender chains and started running her pierced lips up and down. Lord Fleming
grabbed the side of the cage, steadying himself as his breathing grew heavier.
"I say," he grunted, "those rings in her lips are... effective." After a few
moments, Jane pulled her mouth off his cock, turned around and presented her
rear end to him, just as she had done for the half-ape. Letting out a groan of
pleasure, the english Lord stepped forward and sank his fat cock into the
waiting pussy. Jane gasped in pain - the man's cock was much larger than that
of the half-ape - but otherwise didn't react. Grunting with effort, he began to
piston his hips.

Outside the cage, the pygmies began to beat their drums and chant, just as
they had when Lady Jane was being fucked by the half-ape. Fleming looked
surprised for a moment, but then grinned. He threw back his head and let out a
wild cry, imitating that of the creature. The englishmen laughed as the pygmies
began to dance around the cage. "Well," Fleming bellowed, slapping Jane on the
ass, "let's hear it. You were loud enough for the animal." The englishwoman
groaned, but did as ordered: in a few moments, she was grunting and squealing
like a half-ape while the english Lord, also grunting and squealing, fucked her
from behind. The three men watched from the table as Lord Fleming rammed his
cock faster and faster into the woman's pussy until, finally, he stiffened and
came.

Without ceremony, he stepped back and stuffed his cock back into his
pants. "Capital," he chuckled, walking over to the table and downing a full
glass of whisky, "Absolutely first rate." He looked at the other men. "Who's
next?"

Without a word, William Buckman got to his feet and strode over to the
cage. "Good man," Fleming encouraged him. The academic stumbled drunkenly at
the edge of the cage, but caught himself on the bars. Fleming led the other two
men in laughter and applause as the caged woman reached wearily for Buckman's
pants. They called out encouragement as Buckman's penis received the obligatory
oral attention and then was plunged into the woman's sopping pussy. "I say,"
Fleming laughed as the pygmies began to dance and chant, "that does look like
good fun." The english Lord stumbled drunkenly to his feet and began to dance
with the pygmies, tentatively at first, but then with increasing abandon. Reid
couldn't stop laughing at the sight of the fat, drunken Lord, cavorting wildly
around the cage, crudely imitating the movements of the much smaller, grinning
pygmies.

In a few moments, Buckman was done.

Reid looked over at Arch-Bishop Warrington.

"Why..." The clergyman looked more than a little drunk, but had a
determined glint in his eye. "I do believe I will have... have a go..."

"That's the spirit," Fleming called. The Lord had grabbed the sated
Buckman from where he was standing, his softening cock still buried in Lady
Jane's pussy, and had dragged him into the dance circle. "Have at her." The
Arch-Bishop staggered into the cage and the dancing began again. Reid watched,
grinning delightedly, as Jane crawled over the service the tall clergyman while
the pygmies, joined by an enthusiastic Lord Fleming and a drunken, stumbling
William Buckman danced wildly around the cage. The dance picked up momentum as
the clergyman anxiously pumped his bony hips against the englishwoman's naked
ass. Jane kept her eyes downward during the rape, but was obediently squealing
and grunting as she had for the others. Caught up in the spirit of things, the
clergyman began to howl madly as he plunged his penis into the woman's pussy.
The tempo increased... the drum beat and chanting got louder and louder... and
faster and faster... the dancers spun around the cage, yelling and singing in a
wild frenzy... Warrington howled and howled... until, finally, the clergyman
let out a groan and pulled back. His cock sprung free, sending gouts of sticky
white cum all over Jane's lower back and ass. The dancers, exhausted and
sweaty, let out cries of their own and then collapsed to the floor.

Silence...

Except for the quiet sobbing of the caged woman...

"Did I mention," Reid called out a few moments later, breaking the
silence, "that she was pregnant?"

"Really?" Fleming and Warrington looked up from where they lay, exhausted,
on the floor. "Do you mean..."

"I do," Reid answered, grinning. "By the creature. It happened before she
began... 'associating' with the clientele."

"Hah!" The fat Lord let out a bellow of laughter and lowered his head to
the floor. "You did say the experiment was a success."

Reid grinned. "I did, your Lordship. If these creatures can procreate with
human females..." He left the thought unspoken.

Warrington frowned...

*****

"Well, gentlemen."

The cage had been closed and wheeled out of the room. The four englishmen,
three of them still pink with sweat and exertion, were walking down the stairs
into the entrance hall. Lord Fleming had his beefy arm around Buckman's
shoulder and was helping the drunken academic navigate the steps. Arch-Bishop
Warrington walked behind them, followed closely by Reid. "I trust the evening's
entertainment made up for my tardiness."

"Indeed it did," Fleming answered. "More than made up, I should say.
You've been an admirable host."

At the bottom of the stairs, the servant helped the guests into their
overcoats and then held the door open for them. Fleming and Buckman went out
first, the fat Lord calling goodbye for the both of them.

The aging clergyman turned as he reached the door and looked back at his
friend. "Gerald," he said, his face clenched with worry and, perhaps, doubt. "I
trust you will see to the destruction of that woman's notebook and all evidence
of her studies. And of her current... condition."

Reid raised his eyebrows. "Destruction?" he asked. "Whatever for?"

"I..." Warrington looked away. "If people were to learn of what she found
in Africa... or what has happened to her since... well, it might support those
who espouse Darwin's hateful monkey theory. And Mr. Darwin cannot be correct.
If it becomes common knowledge that she became... pregnant with one of these
creatures..." The clergyman fell silent for a moment, shifting uncomfortably,
and then looked his friend in the eye. "People might think the creature is
human... that it has a soul... it would undermine everything the Church stands
for. It is an animal, and animals do not have souls." He looked away anxiously.
"Human beings," he said simply, "are not animals."

Reid nodded solemnly. "I understand. You may rest assured that the
notebook will be consigned to the flames before morning; Lady Jane and her
'lover' will soon be on the boat back to Africa, where the circus is booked for
an extended period. You have my word."

The clergyman smiled briefly and then slipped outside into the night.

Reid couldn't help but laugh as the Arch-Bishop disappeared from view.
The Church... souls... surely it was all a jest. Still smiling, the englishman
turned and walked swiftly up the stairs. Maybe, he thought to himself, there
was time for one more go with that bitch Jane before she was shipped off for
her next performance.

*****

Back in the entrance hall, the servant swung the door shut behind the
final guest and threw the heavy, metal bolt. Then, with an ease borne of long
experience, he removed the glass cover from the candle and snuffed out the
light.

THE END
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As usual, I am interested in any comments you may have
regarding this story, or any of my other stories.