Disclaimer:
I do not own Tarzan or related characters and am not making a profit from sharing this story here. The character was created by Edgar Rice Burroughs and is now in the public domain. Any similarity between the characters in this story and real people is entirely coincidental and incredibly hot. The story is my intellectual property and is (c) to tarzanstud1@gmail.com.
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(from the end of Chapter 9 -- Trading Stock)
"I have one more request," says the chief, as he hands one head after another over to the pirate captain. "For every head I give you, you will bring Tarzan back in a future year to plow our fields again."
"That is a deal!" says Leather, quickly taking the half dozen heads and securing them in his bag before the chief can change his mind. "It is a pleasure for me to drive a slave on a plow!"
The pigmies erupt in cheering and celebration, quickly springing into action and pulling the plow into place. Leather is offered drink and smoke to celebrate the deal. Leather laughs heartily, fully enjoying his new status as the hero who conquered Tarzan.
"I think I can get used to owning this slave!" Leather says, finally getting his due. The women prepare a spit over the fire to cook up a feast. Tarzan, meanwhile, is down on all fours, shamed, his cock and balls aching as he sees Leather receive the treatment once reserved for the king of the jungle.
Leather stands laughing with a few of the pygmy men, enjoying his new fortune, holding his whip, and licking his lips as he starts to understand the wonder he has possession of. Claiming Tarzan as his property is obviously a passport to power in the jungle, and he can't help but wonder what it will be like back home when he brings the legendary man-ape home in chains.
END OF CHAPTER NINE -----------------------------------------------
Chapter Ten - Beast of Burden
The crowd is worked up to a frenzy, and the chief's men join Leather, enjoying the drink as Tarzan is harnessed up for work. The pygmy men take great pleasure in making sure the leather restraints are as tight as possible everywhere they're attached.
Leather watches as they harness Tarzan up like a beast for work. Little men, half his size, taking control of every muscle, strapping him in, cinching him up, tightening until the animal squeals. They attach an extra half dozen leashes to his cock and balls, ensuring they can keep the beast under control.
Finally Tarzan is ready for the fields, and the six leash bearers yank him hard toward the fields, the chief behind him on the plow, cracking the whip to the cheers of the onlookers running beside the beast.
Leather watches as his beast is tethered, his bulge boldly proclaiming his arousal, enjoying his drink and the sweet smoke of the peace pipe, adding to the euphoric lightheadedness.
Even the kids get into it, running beside the harnessed slave and swatting at his mighty legs with switches made from branches, delighting in their part in conquering the king of the jungle.
Leather can't help but think of all the profit he will be making off this primitive animal once he brings him back to his civilized nation.
Tarzan's mind is completely shut down, useless to him as his muscles are bound and harnessed. He can only react to the pain, diving into his work with fury and raw power, his strength expertly unleashed with each whip to his flesh, each jerk of his cock and ball leashes.
"Good, they are going to mentally break this animal for me," Leather says as he watches contentedly.
The pygmies are merciless, unrelenting in driving Tarzan to the back-breaking task of plowing 50 acres of hard jungle land. Leather sits back and daydreams of the riches and fame he might get from Tarzan, once he is brought back all strong and mentally broken from all this labor.
Every time Tarzan slips beneath the weight of the plow he is hauling, the pygmies rain down on him with blows, yanking his balls, smacking his ass, his legs, his yoked arms, his heaving pecs. Leather studies how he works in the yoke, thinking it might be the most natural way to harness this beast for work.
The little men barely give Tarzan a break for water after hours of non-stop slaving in the fields, and even then they keep him tightly controlled, yanking him down on all fours by his balls as a pair of pygmies leaps on his back and another thrusts Tarzan's head into a bucket of water, holding him under for his only chance_at drinking.
Leather laughs heartily at the pygmies' handling of the mighty stud, gripping his whip tightly and finding this jungle to be heaven.
One of the pygmies grabs a fistful of Tarzan's hair and pulls his head out of the bucket as the leash bearers yank hard on his cock and ball leashes, getting the sputtering, choking beast back on his feet. He is instantly driving back to full speed, for hours more of hard plowing.
Anyone watching can see there is nothing left of the man Tarzan once claimed to be. He is pure animal now, nothing but muscle to be put to use by superior races, superior species. The cruel natives break Tarzan in like some bull or ox, driving him at a breakneck pace, his mouth hanging open as much as the bit will allow it, drenched in sweat, his muscles worked for all they are worth. They avoid predictable patterns, not allowing his mind to activate by learning what is expected, forcing him to rely on the leash and the whip to think for him.
END OF CHAPTER TEN -----------------------------------------------
Thanks again for your emails! This is probably my last chapter of this story for some time. I have a few more rough draft chapters documenting Long John Lether taking Tarzan to the Slavers' Village for even more breaking and training, but I don't know if or when they will be ready to publish. If you have any feedback or input, please contact me at tarzanstud1@gmail.com.