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Chapter Text

Early one hot summer day, Kaa, the most sinister and powerful serpent in all of the great Indian jungles, lay coiled in the cool branch of the large Nimba tree along the animal trail that meandered through the deep jungles where Mowgli lived. Kaa was hungry and lethargic, and had been hoping for something delicious to venture down the narrow path below him. Maybe a young deer, even a wild pig or perhaps a dog?
Above him were the delicious monkeys, a whole troop of them, but always too fast and far away from his reach. They enjoyed taunting Kaa and took to pelting him with banana peels or sticks. Kaa hated them but they were always there, warily watching him.
Kaa's stomach grumbled and he licked his lip with his long forked tongue at the pleasant thought of his next long-awaited meal.
As the morning turned into the afternoon Kaa was alerted by the sound of snapping sticks and soon the sound of human murmuring. In the distance he saw a human figure as the dancing rays of dazzling sunshine flickered down through the lush green jungle canopy above them.

As the human got closer, Kaa recognized him- it was indeed the cute young man cub, Mowgli, approaching him all alone! But the boy appeared differently. Mowgli always wore that same red loincloth, but now wore a purple one. And Mowgli's long, shaggy black hair was now combed and shiny, falling in light curls to the base of his neck, and his bangs parted low on his eyes. Kaa smiled mischievously. The boy looked delicious!

Kaa's Plans:
Kaa began to imagine what he could do with Mowgli, especially that they would be alone together. With none of his other friends to be seen, Mowgli was ripe for picking! Maybe he would he just snatch him up and have him for his noon day meal. How delicious the thought!
Or maybe Kaa could do some 'extra' things with Mowgli, before he ate him. Kaa had often watched the boy with certain 'interest'. Mowgli was always spunky and sassy and had such a free spirit about him with all the other animals that excited Kaa. And he always wore that small red loincloth, seemingly forever, which had now grown quite threadbare and ragged (which made Kaa even more curiously desirous of the jungle boy). The cub could be a great deal of 'fun' indeed!
As Mowgli passed beneath the unseen snake, Kaa lowered his head down from the large branch above and slowly followed Mowgli from behind. With a lick of the tip of his tongue onto his shoulder, Mowgli jumped in fright and turned around to see Kaa's face eye to eye with his.
“Hello my young friend!” Kaa said.
“Kaa! What are you doing, trying to frighten me to death???” Mowgli scowled.

“Oh, please forgive me dear Mowgli, “I didn't recognize you- you look so delissss...so different and I didn't want to disturb you. But I saw you were murmuring to yourself in angry tones!”

Mowgli stopped and looked down at the ground, kicking the dirt with his toes.
“I stayed a night and a day at the man village, Mowgli began.
“Why were you were in the man village?” Kaa was surprised to hear this.
“Yes, I was following the river for most of the day and climbed up a tree to rest from my journey. I was awoken by the sound of a beautiful voice, singing. When I strained to see who it was, I fell from my perch and into the thicket below. I was scratched and my small cloth war ripped almost off me completely.
Then she came over to see what was happening. That's when she found me, hiding.
Her name is Shanti and she said she had heard stories of a boy who lived deep in the jungle. She thought it must be me.
She reached for my hand and I let her take mine. She said she would tend my scratches and get me fixed up. She was so beautiful and nice I went with her.
She took me to a small hut near the village. It was her home she said. An old woman also lived there. They were both so nice to me but warned me to keep quiet or others would find me and capture me for I was the wild jungle boy everyone told stories about.
Shanti and the old woman were so nice to me. They gave me good food and washed my cuts. Shanti laughed at my torn small clothing and she gave me her small scarf for a new loincloth. It is small and does not wrap around my hips well so she sewed a button on it to keep it on.” Mowgli lifted the small pleat in front to show Kaa the button fastener beneath.
“Look, isn't it nice?”

Kaa looked under Mowgli's loincloth flap, not so much at the button fastener but at the bulge of Mowgli's boyhood beneath it.
“Very sssssweet, indeed, Mowgli” Kaa replied. “May I examine it more closely as I have never seen something so alluring.”
“Um Humm” nodded Mowgli proudly.
Kaa's nose went right to Mowgli's small groin, more for smelling the boy's scent than examining the boy's loincloth.
“Hmmmm, very interesting and lovely, Mowgli” Kaa said as he secretly eyed the bulging outline of the boy's stiff penis.
“What is the material, may I taste it to learn of it?”
Mowgli was hesitant at the request but agreed to it. “She said the button is bone or horn” the boy replied. With that, Kaa rubbed his snout under Mowgli's thin loincloth flap, taking in the wonderful warm and moist aromas of the boy. Kaa's tongue flickered out and slid over the cotton cloth mound that covered Mowgli's privates. The boy giggled nervously at the feeling and Kaa pulled away, not chancing a loss at this opportunity later.
“That indeed is a special thing you have, Mowgli. Lovely boner... I mean bone button”.
Kaa raised himself again to look eye level into Mowgli's large brown eyes. Mowgli flicked his hair to get his bangs out of his eyes and looked back into Kaa's sharp eyes.

“This girl has taken such good care of you, boy. But tell me Mowgli, why are you so upset now?”
Mowgli replied, “Bagheera saw me earlier and was asking me about what I just told you. He was very mad that I was with another human, especially a girl human. Bagheera said I must never go back again but I like Shanti and will see her when my new loincloth she is making has been done.”
“But Bagheera said he is my friend and that I do not need another. He will make me a loincloth from an animal skin, not silly red fabric.
“I said I want to see her and the man village and he said, 'very well I should stay there' then and pushed me down and walked away”
“Now I am so sad and I don't know what to do...” Mowgli wept softly.

Kaa fixed his eyes on the solitary boy, helpless and tempting, and alone! Mowgli would have no Bagheera or Baloo to come to his rescue now. No one knew where the boy was, only him.
Kaa's mind went into overdrive with thoughts of this solitary jungle boy standing in front of him. All of his curiosity and musings could be explored freely now. His hunger pangs gave way to another form of hunger as his lust began to swell within him. Kaa lowered his long tail from the tree branch above, slowly curling down to gently stroke the boy's back.
“Let me be your friend, Mowgli. You will enjoy much, Trusssssssst Me” Kaa said, his head slowly swaying back and forth in front of Mowgli's widening eyes.
Gently, Kaa's tail began to caress Mowgl's smooth back, the tip lightly gliding up and down Mowgli's spine. It slid upward and stroked the boy's long hair, making Mowgli's knees weak as he stared into Kaa's becoming eyes.
In moments, Mowgli was under Kaa's spell. Gently Kaa stroke the boy's hair and cheeks as his eyes penetrated into Mowgli's mind, laying hold of the boy's own will.

“Good boy” Kaa said. Trussssst me, Mowgli, Tusssssst Me..”
Mowgli seemed to fall asleep with his eyes wide open and staring deeply into Kaa's darkest pupils.
“Yes I trust you, Kaa” he replied.
“Tell me who you are then, boy.”
“I am Mowgli”
“And who is Mowgli?” Kaa asked.
“A man cub of the forest?”
Kaa corrected the child, “No, you are mine.”
“Mowgli is Kaa's slave. You are Kaa's slave. Now who are you, boy?” Kaa repeated.
“I am Mowgli, Kaa's slave” he repeated.
“Oh yes, yes you are. You are my slave! And I am your master!” Kaa smiled.
“And what does a slave do?” asked. Kaa.
Again Mowgli could not answer, just gazed into Kaa's eyes.
“You will pleasure me, jungle boy!” Kaa replied.
Yes master Kaa. I will pleasure you” Mowgli repeated.
Kaa knew this would not be impossible, but never imagined it would be so easy.

With Mowgli in a slight trance, Kaa could take his first opportunity and, gently, lowered his tail down the boy's back, feeling the graceful curve of Mowgli's back, lower and lower. He gently wrapped his tail around the boy's little waste, holding the boy steady. Kaa's long tail traveled back down Mowgli's back. He felt the frayed edge of the boy's thin loincloth and slid over it, downward and between the round cheeks of Mowgli's rear. Mowgli's body stiffened as the sensation seemed to wake him as Kaa repeated his mantra “Trusssst me, boy” as his eyes began to penetrate into Mowgli's. With little effort, Mowgli was completely compliant, seemingly in a stupor as Kaa's coils wound round and round Mowgli's small body, encasing the boy from shoulders to waste. Finally, only Mowgli's thin brown legs hung freely below Kaa's massaging coils as Kaa continued to explore his new friend's lower parts.
Kaa wrapped new coils around Mowgli's ankles and slowly parted the boy's long thin legs. As he began stroking the soft inner thighs, the boy let out the first of several low moans, responding for the first time in his young life the newest, strangest and electrifying stimulation. Kaa rubbed his nose against Mowgli's cheek, pushing the boy's head back. His hair dangled about his shoulders as Kaa licked behind the boy's ears and down his long, stretched neck. Mowgli began to moan even louder when Kaa's tongue slid and licked around the boy's throat and up his beautiful face, across his parted lips and into the boy's waiting mouth. Kaa slid his tongue deeply into Mowgli, pressing his snake mouth against the boy's and locking their lips together. He slid his long dry tongue inside Mowgli's soft, moist mouth, feeling and enjoying the new sensations of kissing a human boy. Kaa's own penis began to stir and desire the flesh of the jungle boy.

Kaa had Mowgli where he wanted him now. The boy was his and Kaa was in growing heat.

Desiring privacy, Kaa pulled Mowgli up off the jungle floor and into the high branches of the Nimba tree above where Kaa was perched from. There, on a wide flat branch he laid the hypnotized boy in the center of his coils. With Mowgli completely enslaved by his prowess, Kaa unwound his coils from around the boy. Kaa looked at the man-child, certainly his next meal but for now his succulent and enticing plaything.

The cunning and lustful Kaa was able to restrain himself from his own instincts of what to do with his catch. The consummate manipulator, Kaa manipulated his very nature in order to prolong this wonderful, long dreamed of encounter. Rather than giving in and raping the boy and eating him afterward, Kaa would take his time, prolonging the pleasure for as long as physically possible. After all, the monkeys above were the only creatures in this deep jungle place who would even know what was happening to the helpless jungle boy. What’s more, the hated Bagherra was no longer even in the picture!

They were together now, high in the boughs of the Nimba tree. Mowgli lay unwrapped in Kaa's large coils, and rested semi consciously. Kaa stroked Mowgli's body with the end of his long tail. He sniffed and smelled the boys skin, the dirt and sweat and slid his tongue over the brown flesh of the boy, tasting him. He saw the scratch marks left by Bagherra from their fight. He saw the cut on Mowgli's hip, which nearly tore his loincloth in two. Kaa licked and kissed the boy's small brown body and Mowgli again responded with low, soft moans. But now, as his body lay unrestrained of Kaa's encircling coils, Mowgli's small body began to flinch and tremble. Kaa knew Mowgli was beginning to stir and become aroused, just as he was. Kaa lowered his head and pushed the tip of his nose between Mowgli's knees. Instinctively Mowgli attempted to press his knees together but Kaa hissed and slithered his tongue jabbed outward and Mowgli's feeble effort at privacy failed. Kaa then pushed his nose and lips up higher between the boys thighs, gently parting the boy's legs open. The boy's hands came down to push away Kaa's head but the snake was much too powerful for that. Kaa's muzzle was nestled snugly between the boys well-parted thighs now and Kaa could smell the aroma and flavors this part of Mowgli's body offered him. Mowgli's hands continued to hold and push against the intruding serpent, but gradually the boy surrendered. Mowgli's legs relaxed and spread open even more and as Kaa nuzzled in and out and side to side under his slave's tattered loincloth, perusing the nectar of Mowgli's boy scent. The boy's small hips gently rose and fell as Kaa pressed harder and smelled deeper and licked more of the boy's damp groin. Soon Mowgli's hands just held on to Kaa's head, almost guiding the massive snake closer into him as they both pumped in and out against each other.

Kaa knew the boy was in total surrender now and was totally his own little slave, and would be a wonderful thing to fuck, but he wanted to play with Mowgli first. He wanted to give the boy his first orgasm, but Kaa wanted to make Mowgli suffer for it.
Continuing to massage the boy' groin with his muzzle, and as Mowgli's small dick began to swell and stretch inside the thin fabric of his little red loincloth, Kaa began to tease him even further. The serpent's nimble tongue pulled and slid inside the frayed edge of Mowgli's little garment and slid across the boy's little dick. As Mowgli gasped and arched his hips upwards seeking more, Kaa slid the tip of his tail down the boy's back and down to Mowgli's rear end. Kaa slid his tail under the boy's loincloth and began sliding in between his soft round ass cheeks. His tail slid up and down in the boy's crack, the tip sometimes gently massaging the sweet spot behind the boy's round ball sack. Mowgli was slipping into ecstasy when Kaa's tail found the puckered little spot in Mowgli's rear, Kaa, with a gentle push, poked the tip of his tail in the hole, making Mowgli gasp and yelp. Kaa slid inside gently but with steady pressure, deeper and deeper until it was in the length of two of the boy's fingers.
Mowgli's body was rigid and began to convulse as Kaa continued to stroke and massage the boy's hard and swollen penis, gently licking the now purple tip and making swirling traces around his piss slit. For maximum effect, Kaa pressed the tip of his tongue against the boy's piss hole and pushed in, entering Mowgli's penis.
It was more than Mowgli could bear. Already completely at the edge and having convulsions, soaking wet and dripping with sweat, Mowgli entered the point of no return. Kaa pressed inside the boy further, and pulled and massaged his swollen penis. His back arched back as far as possible as his hands continued grabbing onto Kaa whose mouth completely swallowed Mowgli's organs. The boy's abdomen retracted inward and his rib cage thrust outward, exposing every visible rib and muscle. And then, with Kaa’s final thrust inside deeper into Mowgli’s ass and one more great suck and twist of the boy’s penis, Mowgli opened his mouth in an effort to scream as all hell broke loose within him. Then, as his voice came to him, all the jungle rocked with a high pitched, blood curling scream as his body was wracked in its first series of tremendous juvenile orgasms, one after another as the boy bucked and screamed and jerked and moaned and shook and convulsed. Again and again he spasmed in dry orgasm after painfully dry orgasm, his young body seeking final release- but none came. Kaa's magic continued to work on his victim as Mowgli was thrust into ecstasy and agony that seemed to never end.
Finally, the boy was spent. His young body gave out and slumped into a heap, overcome, abused and exhausted.

Kaa gently withdrew his tail out from Mowgli’s ass hole and released the boy’s penis from his tongue’s grasp. Mowgli breathed more regularly now as he lay soaking wet upon his bed of warm coils. His eyes deliriously stared into a blank space somewhere in front of him, as Kaa’s mouth drooled over him, snake saliva dripping and pooling and rolling down the boy’s brown flesh.

Kaa’s own penis now wagged erect and pink, dripping ooze out from its twitching end. Kaa wanted to penetrate this boy and now the plan for his new sex slave had begun.
Gently, Kaa wrapped his tail around Mowgli’s waist and lifted the boy up off his coils. With the boy dangling helplessly above Kaa’s huge body, the snake stretched his long belly out, bottom up below the boy. Kaa’s throbbing cock grew strong and stood upward and rigid like a wet red post upon which he would plant the boy. Kaa then wrapped coils around the boy’s knees and lifted them up so Mowgli was held in a sitting position. Kaa’s face drew close to Mowgli’s who looked silently with puzzlement into Kaa’s eyes.
“No, Kaa, please don’t.” the child begged in a raspy whisper.

“Trussssst me, boy” the snake wispered. “Thisssss will be your special gift from me just for you…”
Kaa’s tongue stretched outward and slid gently across Mowgli’s face. Again the snake caressed Mowgli, twirling the boy’s damp hair in small circles, sweeping the long silken bangs out of the boy’s brown eyes. He pulled Mowgli’s chin forward, parting the boy’s lips and again leaned inward for the kiss…
“Relax my pretty one, it will be so wonderful, at least for one of us…”

Mowgli felt the leathery lips touch his, the long rough tongue slide down his chin, down his neck and farther down his wet, smooth chest. Kaa studied the boy’s dangling little body, and then eyed the tattered red cloth that barely covered his desirous loins.
Mowgli gasped and held tightly to Kaa’s coils as the snake squeezed him a little more tightly. Then he gasped again and squealed like a girl as the snake’s mouth drew wide open, exposing his very long and sharp fangs.
“It is time for this scrap of cloth to go, little boy” Kaa said, as his fangs scraped down Mowgli’s abdomen and under the red loincloth. One simple tug and the jungle boy would hang naked and prone, ready to be properly fucked.

Suddenly, there arose a sound from below. Shocked, Kaa stopped and looked with anger and disbelief at the black panther, Bagheera, coming their way on the jungle path below! That damned over-sized cat had interrupted them and robbed him of his opportunity to finish raping the boy.

Kaa quickly came up with a plan.
Silently, he lowered Mowgli and held him fast with the end of his tail.
Seeking to divert Bagheera’s attention, Kaa slithered down the trunk of the tree and greeted his old enemy.
“Bagheera, what are you doing here?” Kaa asked.
I am looking for the man-cub, Mowgli. I have followed his scent this way.”
Kaa replied that he had seen the boy and that Mowgli had told Kaa of the argument and the threats.
“Indeed, Kaa said. Mowgli said he was going to the man village and alert the men there. He is angry at you and will lead their bravest hunters into this jungle to kill you and use your skin as his sleeping rug!”
Bagheera was furious. “That spoiled little frog thinks he can threaten me and have me killed? It was a mistake to ever offer friendship to that one!”
Bagheerah said.
Kaa waved his head in agreement.
My old enemy, Bagheera. It seems we have a common enemy now in that man-cub. He is a child who thinks he rules our jungle. I would suggest that we unite in our efforts to conquer him. We can share him in turns, make him our slave to do our will, fetch our things, hunt and prepare our meals. In the night, when we lay alone and without a consort, we can find our release, we can fuck him, and with no fear of making babies! What do you say?”
Bagheerah was silent a short while, giving careful consideration to the scheme. Then, looking at Kaa in the eye, gave a grin and nod. They would unite against the boy.
Bagheerah then asked the question, how such a thing could be accomplished? The man-cub has already ventured out to gather the hunters to kill them.
“My new ally, I have a gift for you, Kaa said with a smile. “I was hoping we might meet and make this pact, and so I have saved this as a present for you.”
With that, Kaa wrapped his tail and squeezed Mowgli’s hands together, pulling the boy up off the branch above them and lowered him to hang just above the ground. Now, fully alert and frightened, Mowgli hung by his arms by Kaa’s tail and swung helplessly in front of both Kaa and Baghdera.
“Splendid!!” Bagheerah exclaimed as he stepped towards the dangling little body of his new enemy.
“You have been saving this cub for me all this while?” Bagheera asked.
“Indeed, replied Kaa. Then sneering towards Mowgli he continued, “When I knew the terrible plans he had I kept him safely for you. He has been carefully prepared, and although I have taken some liberties with his body, his boy pussy remains virgin and unseeded for your pleasure” .

Bagheera licked his lips and he got in even closer. Mowgli tried to squiggle free but was held fast. He could feel the warm, moist breath of the large black panther on his face and chest. Bagheera again licked his lips, sliding his tongue slowly across his mouth.
“Ummmm” he growled. He raised his paw and put it against the dangling Mowgli. Then he exposed and pressed one sharp claw against Mowgli’s taught chest.
“Maybe when we are bored with this cub we can eat him, too?” and with a sharp jab stuck a claw tip into Mowgli’s soft flesh. The boy screamed in pain as Bagheera pushed it deeper in, nicking the child’s rib bone as fresh blood began to dribble out of the wound. The panther slid his tongue across the wound, tasting the fresh crimson blood. “Yes, he is quite delicious”. Both laughed at Mowgli who stared wide-eyed at the dark red blood trickling out and down his brown flesh.

Bagheera continued to play with Mowgli as Kaa held the boy tight, dangling him from the limb above. The great black cat growled and snarled and snapped at the frightened boy, who could do nothing to save himself. Bagheerah paced slowly around the boy, smelling and sniffing his prey. His muzzle sniffed the boy’s small feet, up and between his long twitching legs, then prodding into his scarcely-clad ass, smelling the boy scent. Then the panther positioned himself directly between the boy’s legs, causing them to spread. Bagheerah sat beneath Mowgli and pressed his nose tighter up under the frayed red fabric covering the youngster’s privates and smelled and licked him there. Mowgli tried to kick his legs in defense but Bagheera responded quickly, swiping a paw across the boy’s leg, gashing three lines into Mowgli’s inner left thigh.
Bagheera was not playing around. Mowgli had turned against him he learned, and he would have his revenge. Obediently Mowgli stopped thrashing about with his legs as the powerful cat continued to smell and lick and explore between them.

Kaa carefully watched the drama closely as his coils held Mowgli tightly to dangle above the ground. Bagheera got behind the frightened, wounded and helpless boy. The panther rose himself up on his hind legs and wrapped his forearms around Moqgli’s chest. Bagheera pushed Mowgli’s long black hair away with his fore paw so he could whisper into the boy’s ear, “You are just a slave now, Mowgli. I only want your young ass now.”
Bagheerah then asked, “Kaa, dear friend, could you raise our young friend upwards a little more? “This height would not be ideal for my best entrance”.
“Gladly, dear friend” replied Kaa, who then pulled the boy up a bit higher off the ground.
“Perfect, thank you, friend”
Now Mowgli hung by his arms, with his ass positioned at Bagheeras powerful loins. Bagheera went back down and prowled around the captive boy again, staking his claim. The panther stopped in front and then stood back up on his rear legs, his huge black paws planted squarely upon Mowgli’s small chest.
“I will enjoy you more than I ever imagined before, Mowgli” he said as he slowly lowered himself, his long claws scratching into Mowgli’s body as he went down.
Bagheera was now staring at boy's small waist, admiring how his pelvis bones protruded out and framed his sweet, flattened lower tummy where Bagheera’s long cock would soon occupy. He started licking gently around and below the child's navel, smelling and probing the tiny bulge of Mowgli's boyhood beneath his small loincloth.
“And this cloth thing has to go” he added.
“Kaa, dear friend, would you like to assist me?”
Soon both Kaa and Bagheera began to slowly snip at Mowgli’s thin red loincloth, with both snake fangs and panther claws tearing it apart, thread by tiny thread. Mowgli begged and whimpered and cried helplessly as they continued slowly and teasingly to strip him of his only covering. Then, with just a little piece of Mowgli's red loincloth remaining on him by just a thread, Bagheera raised his paw to the top of Mowgli’s body just under the boy’s armpit. He stuck a sharp claw tip against the boy’s taught flesh and pressed in. With one long, slow pull of his claw he began to cut a thin red gash down the boy’s side. Mowgli cried out as the panther scratched his sharp claw slowly down Mowgli’s side, slicing the length of his body with a glistening crimson line of freshly dripping blood, from his upper torso down, over his beautifully curved rib-cage, down into his lower torso. Then finally, with one last flick of his bloody claw, Bagheera sliced into Mowgli’s small hip and the final thread of Mowgli’s little loincloth was done. The tattered shreds fell off the boy’s now-naked body to the ground below, useless and completely unnecessary any more.

Mowgli hung silently from Kaa’s coils, dangling him by his wrists, sweaty and bleeding and naked. Bagheera stood in front of his prey and sized him up. Not much of a man-cub he thought. Probably not even nine or ten summers long. But he would serve a purpose for the male cat now, a whore, a slave, a pussy to be shared with his newest friend, the lustful and cunning snake, Kaa.

Eye to eye they met, Mowgli’s filled with tears and Bagheera full of lust. The cat walked behind the hanging boy and stood up on his hind legs, allowing his sleek, strong black body to rest against Mowgli’s tiny back. Bagheera checked his footing and adjusted his firm hold on the helpless little jungle boy. His cat prick began to extend forward as Bagheera nestled his head against Mowgli’s ear.
“You are my bitch now, Mowgli” Bagheera whispered to the boy. Then as Bagheera’s cock began to get even harder and longer, the Panther’s hips began to press against the boy’s naked backside. Mowgli began pressing his legs together in an effort to save his ass from the impending assault, as Bagheera began growing in heat. The panther’s cock slipped between Mowgli’s thighs and up between his ass cheeks, as the panther began the sawing motion, sliding his hard cock up and down inside the soft, delicate cleft of the boy’s ass. Bagheera’s cock grew harder and harder with the continuous massaging and grinding inside the boy’s baby-smooth ass cheeks.

Kaa watched what was happening and slithered his head over to the boy and panther. The snake pulled Mowgli a bit higher and then slithered his head under the boy’s legs. He knew what needed to be done- Kaa wrapped once around Mowgli’s left ankle and then wrapped another coil around the kid’s right ankle , and forced Mowgli’s legs wide apart, spreading the boy taut and firm like an upside-down “Y”. The serpent now raised his head level with the boy’s splayed legs, his leathery lips puckered and his slithering tongue dancing just inches away from Mowgli’s exposed penis. Behind and against the naked boy stood the aroused and drooling Bagheera, in perfect position for what he needed to do with Mowgli..

“Good friend Bagheera, please do not go too gently on our boy. He can take the pain I sssusssspect… and will ssssing so sweetly, too. “

The monkey troop in the jungle trees above were not lost to the event below, as they sat by the dozens above watching excitedly, massaging and pleasuring themselves at the show below. They knew the three creatures below, and that Kaa was the most dangerous, Bagheera the most loyal, and Mowgli, the weakest but most desirable of them all. The monkey pack scampered closer and closer as their numbers grew to watch the exciting spectacle.

Bagheera had by now accelerated his grinding performance against the soft flesh of Mowgli’s vulnerably spread ass. The cat’s long sharp prick stuck out like a pink spear seeking to make it’s first kill. Bagheera slid it down the boy’s ass and withdrew back to aim and rammed forward. Again and again the panther tried to hit the puckered pink closure to Mowgli’s warm insides. Bagheera growled and purred in desperation. Finally, he straightened his forelegs and leaned slightly away from the boy so he could take visual aim. Slowly the cat brought his hips forward, and his twitching, dripping cock head finally found the small target.
Mowgli gasped and yelped when he felt Bagheera’s cock at his bottom. The panther pressed inward and Mowgli spasmed and jerked as the tip of the cat’s cock gently slipped into the tight ring of the boy’s ass hole. Knowing he found his target, Bagheera took position carefully, leaned his upper body tightly against Mowgli’s back and wrapped his fore paws across Mowgli’s small chest. Then with one slow, steady push, the panther drove his hungry, wet cock right into Mowgli’s defenseless ass hole.
The helpless jungle boy screamed in terrible pain as the tip of the tiger’s cock pushed farther inward, forcefully opening the boy’s tight little pussy. Bagheera kept pressing inward, slowly and without stopping, inch by terrible inch he went, deeper and deeper into Mowgli’s body. The child screamed and convulsed violently, his head tossing every which way, his wet black hair flying wildly about him as his little body was racked in pain. He hung helplessly from Kaa’s strong coils as Baheera continued to rape the boy more and more. About halfway inside of him, Bagheera paused for a moment, lifting a hind leg up onto the boy’s naked thighs for optimum position to ram his cock into Mowgli’s moist, bleeding guts.

“Ahhh, this is soooooooooo nice litle man-cub… You are such a hot little bitch…”

Baheerah withdrew his cock slightly from the warm, wet sheath of Mowgli’s ass it had forced itself into. It glistened with a thin red coat of fresh blood as it slid slowly out of the small brown ass it impaled. Bagheerah paused a moment to savor the feeling and then, with a deep grunt the panther shoved his hips forward, and with his head pressed between the boy's thin neck and shoulder, Bagheera shoved his whole member deep inside Mowgli. A huge, scream pierced the jungle as the splayed boy had taken in the full length of the panther’s long angry cock. His shrill scream filled the jungle air and shook the leaves. The monkeys all around went wild at the sight and screams, themselves letting out howls of excitement. All the jungle screamed back as Mowgli let out scream after blood-curdeling scream.
Bagheera was not in control of himself any longer. He was savage animal-fucking the boy now. When his hard, thick and throbbing cock was completely inside Mowgli's intestines, the panther paused, enjoying the feeling of his cock fully inside the warm, wet boy pussy. Then, instinctively, the panther slowly withdrew, sliding and pulling out of the tight fleshy tube. When almost completely out, the panther suddenly began to push in again, not as slowly like first but hard, so hard that Mowgli almost was torn from Kaa’s grips. The boy screamed and screamed again, his chest heaving and collapsing as he struggled to get air to scream. Without mercy Bagheera pulled his wet and throbbing cock out and just as quickly rammed it back inside the boy. Again and again Bagheera fucked and raped Mowgli, his massively stronger body slapping in rhythm against the boy’s small naked body.
In no time, Bahheera’s long cock began to be glistening red. Mowgli’s intestines tore and his blood coated the panther's long cock as it slid in and out and in and out, over and over and over again. Sloshing sounds and heavy panting marked in rhythm as the panther ceaselessly fucked the boy, longer and deeper and harder.
Mowgli’s body hung like a rag doll now, being thrust forward and backward, his grunts escaping at every thrust of Bagheera's cock inside him. His head flopped about loosely as his ass hole was being rammed, his long black hair flying about wildly, throwing drops of sweat everywhere, wet dripping down and coating his naked, glistening brown body. Suddenly Mowgli's head threw back against Bagheera behind him and the boy let out another scream, though a different type of scream. Bagheera had thrust his cock directly into the boy's prostate, forcing the child into painful ecstasy. As Mowgli's small body prepared to orgasm his lower abdomen sucked deeply inward, revealing the shape of the panther's cock inside him. The bulge pushed outward as the boy's stomach sucked inward and both boy and animal perched on the edge of a simultaneous orgasm.

Kaa, too was now at work since got a steady hold of the boy’s prick in his mouth, licking and twisting his tongue around it and pulling it deeper into his throat. Mowgli's cock had grown and swollen and throbbed as Kaa tightened his tongue around the child's dick and small ball sack, preventing the boy from having his needed orgasm.
Several monkeys also got into the action now, un-threatened by wild panther and snake or by the boy they were raping. A few short-haired monkeys securely held on to the boy’s long wet hair as others enthusiastically masturbated long ropes of cum into the boy’s gaping mouth. Mowgli gagged and moaned and coughed at the never-ending abuse. It seemed all the world was raping Mowgli!

To Be Continued... ?

Chapter Text

Chapter Two: Deflowering Mowgli
Mowgli hung suspended from the tree, his splayed arms and legs held tightly by the villainous serpent, Kaa. The boy’s small body was naked, wet, covered in sweat, streaked with crimson lines that illuminated his brown skin as drops and dribbles of fresh blood trickled down his body from the scratches, gashes and punctures in his arms and legs, his thighs, hips, abdomen, chest, shoulders and soon also, his thin delicate neck. He was racked and pulled, thrust forward and back like a rubber band with only his head dangling freely as his long black hair flung about wildly, flicking out droplets of sweat everywhere.
Lodged between his neck and shoulder was the furiously panting head of Basheera, whose long, sleek black body was connected firmly into Mowgli’s, his throbbing penis pumping into the jungle-boy furiously. The panther’s viscous cock head was now completely buried inside Mowgli’s little asshole. The mighty, meaty spear thrust deeper and deeper into Mowgli’s warm and moist intestines, seemingly into the boy’s very stomach. He wanted to destroy this kid now, he needed to rape and pillage his helpless little body, to glory in destroying this perfect little ass and fucking the very life out of the boy.
Mowgli screamed and begged and screamed again for Basheera to stop, that it was tearing him open and killing him. But the pleading, high-pitched voice of the impaled boy only drove the wild panther on. Though Basheera could have driven his long cock completely up inside the boy’s little body in one hard thrust, he opted to prolong the experience and torture by entering the boy’s body ever so slowly. Not to lessen the boy’s pain (nothing could lessen the pain!), but to prolong it. Basheera wanted to destroy the boy he once had feelings for, he turned against him and this would be the final cost. He wanted Mowgli to suffer, Suffer, SUFFER!
“Little Mowgli, you like my cock deep inside you? It will only grow bigger and go deeper. Can you feel how I am growing INSIDE you?”
Basheera pushed and shoved inward a little more, an inch at a time, feeling his hard cock pressing and stretching and forcing deeper into the boy’s small innards. Mowgli could only scream as his body was forced to accept the horrible intruder, going deeper and deeper inside him, burning and tearing and stretching him. Ever so slowly it grew and went farther up inside the boy’s receptive little body.
Kaa gladly held Mowgli tightly out-stretched, his coils holding Mowgli by his wrists mid-air, splayed spread eagle for his friend Basheera’s ease and comfort. Kaa watched on as the panther fucked and pumped and pounded the boy. Kaa’s his own prick had grown extremely long and hard and dripping as he anticipated his turn with Mowgli next. The serpent watched the protruding outline of Basheera’s cock pushing around inside boy’s toughly stretched abdomen. Kaa drooled as his tongue continually slid around Mowgli’s small, virgin cock. The snake slithered and pulled at the boy’s young penis, stroking its length, from the small dark ball sack to its purple mushroom head, which had somehow begun dripping out the boy’s first production of pre-cum. Kaa wrapped his tongue around it tightly and pulled it into his mouth, drinking the sweet and salty nectar of the used boy.
Overhead, the troops of screaming monkeys’ quieted from their ear-shattering clatter of excitement at the sight below them, as they sensed the on-coming climactic event as Basheera made a final, forceful thrust upward into the boy. The panther’s strong, rippled muscles tightened and his sleek black body straightening upward and arched back, forcing his pelvis harder into Mowgli’s naked, tortured ass as he forced entirety of his entire quaking loins inside Mowgli. The boy’s body stretched and arched farther forward, his arms and legs pulled even farther open and tighter by Kaa, as the panther’s long cock violently pulsed deep inside Mowgli’s intestines. Mowgli was in absolute and killing pain, far beyond anything a even an adult could even bear. He thrust his head back against Basheera’s neck as he felt the beginnings of Basheera’s massive orgasm within him. Mowgli screamed out and begged the animal to stop, crying with an almost inaudible voice from his scorched throat. The panther growled in pleasure and anger and let out his primordial roar as his fore paws wrapped around the boy’s waist and dug his claws onto the boy’s pelvis. Basheera’s nails sank into the soft skin of the boy’s protruding hip bones. Blood dripped down Mowgli’s hips and into his groin, where Kaa was hard at work. Then with the panther’s ferocious howl the two became one and his climax arrived. Basheera let lose inside Mowgli, his hot sperm shooting deep and thick into the man-cub, over and over, his body frozen in time and in complete ecstasy while releasing his unbridled force and savage fury into the child. Shot after long shot of thick cum filled into the boy’s intestines. As the panther unloaded into Mowgli’s bowels, Basheera basked in the pleasures and release of the long and beautiful event. Raping this helpless and naked jungle-boy was far more pleasure than he expected!
As his murderous cock continued to spasm and throb and erupt deep inside Mowgli, the big cat licked at the boy’s ear and neck. Mowgli’s head had fallen almost lifeless as his body was racked and raped, but Basheera knew Mowgli still lived and could hear him; “It… is… so…. Good….!” the panther muttered in short gasps as the final bolts of cum emptied from his balls into Mowgli. Unable to contain all of the animal cum inside his filled guts, the overflowing sperm squirted out of Mowgli’s stretched asshole with each orgasm, spraying their bodies and spilling and dripping down the boy’s opened legs.
“Now little Mowgli, you are nothing but my whore, and I own you. You are delicious...”
Basheera’s head, still pressed against Mowgli’s shoulder, turned to look at the nearly comatose boy. The panther, still firmly impaled and knotted inside Mowgli, drew his clawed paws upward, one holding Mowgli’s chest and the other under Mowgli’s head. He pulled Mowgli’s head upward and turned the boy’s face toward his own. His blood-stained claws entangled in the helpless boy’s long, black hair as he held the child’s head firmly in position. Mowgli’s eyes were merely slits, not open or closed. His mouth slightly opened as he hiccupped for short periodic gasps of air. Basheera leaned his head forward, his muzzle touching the boy’s small button nose. The panther tilted his head slightly to the side, parted his lips and pressed them against Mowgli’s. The boy’s head pushed backward instinctively, but the panther held him tightly by the hair. Soon enough, Basheera’s lips were firmly planted against Mowgli’s mouth and the boy’s own lips slightly parted. The delirious boy was completely defeated and surrendered himself to Basheera, now even accepting the panther’s kiss! Mowgli’s lips opened a little more, inviting the panther to enter into his mouth, and in a moment Basheera’s thick raspy tongue was penetrating Mowgli’s mouth. Around and around the cat’s tongue swirled, meeting Mowgli’s little tongue and finally they were flicking and sliding against each other. Soon enough both were lock-mouthed, tongues kissing and twisting and passionately.
Though Kaa still held Mowgli’s arms and legs tightly, the stretched and restrained boy sought to hug, to engage with his rapist, he needed to embrace the animal, with anything. And Kaa went to work sucking the boy harder, bringing the little virgin closer and closer to his first real orgasm. Basheera’s cock, still buried inside Mowgli began to swell and throb again as the panther’s stimulation came on once more like a violent tropical storm. Mowgli’s body instinctively responded again, though not solely in horrible pain this time, as strange feelings of unfamiliar pleasure began to heat up deep inside his guts.
Basheera had begun pressing farther around inside Mowgli’s tight passage as his hard and powerful cock lengthened even more. Mowgli felt like vomiting his guts out as the impaling cock seemed to enter his very stomach while it had already filled his entire intestines. It rubbed and pressed tightly against the soft and warm walls of Mowgli’s innards. The panther’s secretions and Mowgli’s own blood allowed the cock to slosh thru the soft, tight intestinal tube more freely, moving and shifting his delicate and bruised guts around inside him. Bagheera’s cock then slid against the boy’s tiny but very sensitive prostrate, sending shock waves throughout the child’s body. Pangs of pain and pleasure seared through his body, shooting up his spine, out into his arms and legs and down into his trembling loins. In and out the panther violently fucked the boy, pushing him forward and back, as Kaa simultaneously sucked and licked passionately on the boy’s cock, pushing forward and pulling back, counter-forcing Mowgli’s body in tandem with Basheera’s thrusts . Slowly a rhythm began, with Basheera forcing the boy’s body forward from in back and Kaa forcing the boy ‘s loins backward from in front. Like a plucked bow string, Mowgli was being pumped back and forth from front and rear. The constant sexual stimulation was unbearable and he moaned aloud and cried and whimpered and begged for release as his own orgasm began to develop. Kaa lusted to drink the boy’s first batch of exquisite, thick and creamy semen. He lusted for the taste, for the control, for the very soul of the boy who was now his to rape. Kaa wanted to sink his fangs directly into the boy’s tender young groin and suck everything directly out of Mowgli, drink his vital essence, savor every drop the boy could produce, but that would come later.
Basheerah as well continued to thrust his cock in, fucking deeply in and out of Mowgli’s bleeding and wounded asshole, as he continued to tongue-fuck the boy’s mouth as well. Mowgli’s head was held back and immobile as their lips were locked together and the panther’s tongue penetrated deeper and deeper, slightly entering the child’s throat. Mowgli’s gagged as his neck was arched even farther back, stretching long and thin. Every youthful muscle and sinew rippled on the boy and his rib cage projected broadly as he struggled in the embrace. His tightened stomach and abdomen muscles sucked deeply inward, revealing the bulge of Basheera’s cock inside, as he tried to force out his imminant orgasm into the sucking mouth of the snake at work between his legs.
Kaa sensed and quickly reacted to the boy’s need and the snake’s coils tightened their hold around the boy’s wrists and ankles even more, pulling harder and spreading farther the boy’s long naked legs as far apart as they could go. With Mowgli’s dick firmly wrapped in the snake’s nimble tongue, Kaa began to slide it up and down the pudgy shaft, making it grow harder and longer. Kaa began to lick the sensitive spot between the boy’s fucked and bleeding asshole and his well-swollen testacles. He licked the boy’s soft dick head and began stretching and releasing it, masturbating him. Mowgli remained helpless to do anything but try and survive the overpowering sexual stimulation. Then,, with his penis fully erect and throbbing hard, the snake did the most devilish of things to the boy; with both tongue tips pointed together like a little spear point, Kaa touched them against the very tip of the boy’s throbbing penis, and then carefully inserted his tongue tip into the boy’s exposed little pee slit. Mowgli jerked and gasped and moaned and whimpered pitifully into Basheera’s mouth (they were still kissing) and the boy racked violently at yet another tortured assault on him.
Mowgli’s deflowering was without mercy.
Kaa was forceful yet delicate, as he pushed the tip of his tongue deeper into the child’s hyper-sensitive urethra tube causing Mowgli to go ballistic. Kaa continued to hold the boy’s hard dick with the thick base of his tongue, stroking and massaging him, while at the same time slid his thin tongue point farther inside of Mowgli’s penis, as far down as it could go. Once inside all the way, Kaa played and teased the child with his tongue, twisting and bending the boy’s penis. Burning shots seared through the boy in long painful spasms, making his lower abdomen quake and quiver uncontrollably. Kaa continued sliding his tongue around inside Mowgli’s dick, sliding it out and then sliding it back in, gently, slowly, over and over, fucking the inside of the boy’s penis as he expertly masturbated the boy’s hardened cock. The snake continued and didn’t stop, knowing full well that with the way he squeezed this captive dick, the boy could not ejaculate no matter what. It was almost beyond anything humanly tolerable but Mowgli endured it, he had no options. He hung suspended, hopeless, alone, stretched and naked- a piece of living meat to be savored and devoured.
The once free, happy-go-lucky jungle boy was free no more. His beautiful young life was now barely able to survive. But something was happening to him as he was raped in every possible way. The snake and panther were simultaneously team-raping him, but amidst the unbearable pain they allowed a brief taste of pleasure. They took the boy to the very edge and brought him back again, only to do it over and over. The feelings of both pain and delight were beyond anything he had ever experienced in his short life and these feelings washed over him. His body was beyond his own control, his body was not even his own anymore and he was lost and totally destroyed in the experience. He was in agony and desperation and fear, but also of some type of deep pleasure and he wanted more of it. He needed more. The pain became pleasure and the pleasure became paradise. He was just a young boy, unknown to any of this, and it was killing him.
So Mowgli finally surrendered himself and submitted his body and soul to them. The boy became their little whore.
And in his submission, the whore began to quake and shiver uncontrollably. As both Kaa and Basheera feasted on the victim stretched and shared between them. Mowgli was brought to his own peak. His loins began to churn and burn and feel like a volcano about to erupt. Basheera pulled tighter into the boy and Kaa tightened his tongue, encircling and constricting the boy’s penis, preventing any ejaculation. They were of like mind; sexually torture the boy as long as they pleased before finally finishing with him.
Buried deep inside Mowgli, Basheera knew the boy was on the verge of an orgasm which Mowgli would not be allowed to have. Mowgli’s body shook and quaked and shuttered as he pulled away from Basheera’s kiss to throw his head even farther back, a low moan escaping from deep within his body. He was in complete sexual desperation. Mowgli’s head pressed back against Basheerah’s chest, the boy now panting in short, heavy breaths, and staring wide-eyed into nothingness as his body was exploding within him. He was oblivious to being virtually crucified and raped in mid-air by the two frenzied animals. He could only be aware of the pain, the pleasure and needed release that became his life.
Basheerah licked at the boy’s neck and hair, pushing the long, messy strands away from his ear to whisper softly, “Yes little one, your beautiful first orgasm is coming, but oh, poor little Mowgli, it will be your last….”
The cat then nuzzled his maw into the boy’s long, exposed neck. Basheera licked it, stimulating the boy further and forcing a gasp. Basheera opened his mouth and exposed his long, sharp fangs, then lightly pressing them against the smooth, brown skin of Mowgli’s delicate neck, sliding them down to his collarbone.
Then to Kaa he whispered, “Let the boy cum now.”
Kaa released his grip around Mowgli’s swollen cock. The kid gasped in anguish and shock as Kaa’s mouth sucked him like a straw, desperate for the boy’s thick nectar. The boy’s guts began to constrict and quiver as Bagherra thrust ever deeper and his powerful body began to shake and every muscle quake as he let go another series of huge, heavy orgasms deep into the boy. The panther was in kill mode…
Then, Mowgli himself began to feel his own release as his guts erupted deep inside him, shockwave after shockwave traveled from the tip of his penis up his spine and out into his outstretched arms and legs! His fingers stretched and his toes curled. His freed head swung wildly in every direction, with long hair flying like a shaken wet black mop. His was in painful rapture as his mind was blown away with feelings of release and ecstasy. Suddenly, bolt after bolt after long thick bolt of his milky white spunk shot out of his pounding dick, and being sucked down just as quickly by the horny snake. Mowgli’s hips thrust forward from both his own orgasm and by the panther’s orgasm inside him, while Kaa pressed headlong into Mowfli’s groin. They were pressing into the boy from both back and front, pushing out every drop of pristine sperm from the enraptured boy. Mowgli, in the throws of his first real orgasm and unknown-of euphoric ecstasy, did not even register the pain as Basheera began to slowly sink his needle-sharp fangs into the boy. The panther bit deliciously down into the boy, sinking deeper into the boy’s shoulder. Mowgli screamed, first a scream in the culmination of his first wet orgasm but then changing into an anguished scream of pain as the cat’s fangs knifed cleanly into him. Dark red blood spurted out of the puncture wounds as Basheera latched into Mowgli, biting hard and tasting the warm blood, relishing the taste of the boy’s flesh and soul. Mowgli shut his eyes against the horrible pain, fainted and hung seemingly lifeless as Basheera paused, not chomping off the boy’s flesh (yet) but rather relishing the boy’s sweet blood while he finished pumping the last bolts of his cum deep inside Mowgli’s ass. Panther sperm and blood dribbled out of the raped boy’s asshole and slid down in thick gobs along his smooth, open legs below while Mowgli’s crimson blood leaked out of Basheera’s mouth and fangs from Mowgli’s shoulder and trickled down the unconscious boy’s small chest.
Basheera withdrew his fangs and rested, leaning against the virtually lifeless boy still hanging by his arms in front of him. Mowgli, the cocky little jungle-kid no one could tolerate but everyone loved, was actually a pretty good fuck, he thought. A young, but trainable whore. The boy had satisfied Bagheera as much as he had hoped, maybe even more. Enough sex right there to satisfy him for a couple of days. This innocent little kid certainly was a good catch for them! Basheera smiled at Kaa, and then gave Mowgli one last, deep shove with his mighty cock right back up into the boy’s ass, hoping to hear a final grunt, when…
“BAM!!!!!”
All went still and silent for a fast moment. But the monkeys watching from above pierced the silence first and began screaming wildly and hysterically and swinging away to safety, with the jungle birds taking flight and cawed out in ear-splitting warning, Seeking his own safety and quick escape, Kaa released his hold of the boy. Mowgli was still fully impaled on Bagheera’s cock, but slid down and hit the ground like a sack of over-ripe fruit, with Basheera quickly falling on top of him. Basheera lay lifelessly on top of the small boy. A long, feathered dart stuck straight out of the back of the motionless panther, as Mowgli lay unconscious beneath him, barely breathing on the soft jungle floor.
Their rape session was over.
To be continued…

Chapter Text

Chapter Three: Taking Mowgli
The group of men cautiously approached from their hiding spot a long distance away in the dense undergrowth of the jungle. The man in lead carried a long rifle in his hands, carefully scanning the area with the gun barrel. He wore a dark green turban and sported a long curled mustache. His skin was olive in color, not as dark as the other men in the group. His clothing was neat and clean and obviously expensive hunting attire. Behind him were the others; a few guides and porters, mostly a collection of regional locals who were a bit more familiar with the Great Surret Jungle they were now deep inside. Two long weeks had passed as the group hunted the Great Surret, finally venturing in deeper in their search for the prized animal. They met little success, and found themselves growing weary and wanting to go home. But now their persistence and perseverance seemed to have paid off.
The lead hunter approached the place where Bagheera fell. He had spied the panther from a distance of a hundred meters through the waist-high brush, and as soon as he saw the panther he took quick but careful aim and fired his shot. The heavy tranquilizer dart hit the black panther squarely in the shoulder, knocking the animal immediately unconscious. No doubt his skills as a highly paid big game poacher had been proven again.
“Maleek”, spoke the second in line, “There is the cat” pointing to the body of the panther laying still on
the ground. They walked cautiously closer, watching the large cat with careful eyes. It did not flinch, the only movement was that of the animal breathing. Suddenly the old one exclaimed
The second man, older and apparently very jungle-wise, came closest to the large panther. He leaned in for a closer look at the sleeping animal. Suddenly he stood up and waved his arms hysterically and crying out something in his native language and exclaimed to the leader- “Maleek, there is a child beneath the animal!” All the group rushed forward now and there, sure enough, extended a small brown arm of the child pinned beneath the prostrated animal’s body.
Maleek waved the men forward with his hand and without anything needing to be said, the group gently turned the cat over, rolling it off of the naked and bloody child below.
A wave of chatter and commotion swirled around the group of six when Maleek ordered them to first bind the wild panther’s hind and forelegs together. While they got ropes from their portage, the old one, Sophan, knelt beside Mowgli who laid face down in the soft bed of grass and leaves of the forest floor.
“Maleek , the girl is not dead, but still breathes!” he exclaimed. The old man and Maleek turned the child’s head to the side and scanned the naked body, shocked at all the cuts and gashes and blood and bruises from head to toe. The old man gulped hard when he cast his eyes on the youngsters naked buttocks. Though the child’s legs were pressed together (hiding the youth’s genitals), he could see the freshly spilled blood and semen that coated inside both slender legs.
“Maleek, she has been savaged by the animals” he stated in disgust and shock. Soon, the other four members of the hunting party stood around the motionless child as well. Maleek looked at the small brown body and swept the long hair away, revealing the youth’s beautiful but filthy face. The child’s long hair was just below the shoulders and soaking wet. Puncture wounds accentuated the bruised skin of deep reddish brown where the panther’s tooth marks had pressed firmly into the child’s shoulder. Fresh blood still trickled out from the punctures, running in thin crimson lines down the child’s spine. One arm was under the kid’s body and the other extended outward, and clear bruising was apparent around the child’s thin wrist.
Gently, Maleek took hold of the child’s uninjured shoulder and gently rolled the child’s body over. Shock and gasps went out from all the men as they pointed down at the child’s naked form. Mowgli’s lay flat on his back, his arms to his sides and his legs slightly parted. “Oh by the gods, it is a boy!” The group came closer and touched prodding fingers into the naked body, trying to stir the boy awake. Mowgli remained still and almost lifeless as an animated conversation was struck up by the encircling men.
Maleek, puzzled at the situation, realized he had a problem on his hands. Thoughts swirled around in his head about what he should do now. He had been hired and instructed by the Sultan KamSok to bring him an exotic animal (or two) for the royal family’s private zoo. He had wanted an elusive and rare beast, one of sleek beauty and cunningly dangerous, like the black panther. Maleek recalled how the Sultan had told him about his youngest son, the young Prince sultan Surret, who had become bored and uninterested in just about everything. Even when the Sultan brought girls his age into the harem, the young Prince did not show interest. The prince Surret stayed alone in his chambers most of the time behind locked doors and had become increasingly moody. So, the Sultan thought, for his son’s upcoming birthday, perhaps allowing the boy a opportunity to own and even tame his own wild animal would be something the upcoming fourteen year old would take excitement in…
Well, thought the hunter, he had successfully captured a wonderful panther for the Sultan, a rare animal that would certainly spark interest and excitement for any young Prince, but what would he do with this wild jungle boy? He was obviously badly injured and would need a lot of care to bring him back to good health. And he had no need to keep the boy for himself. The nights when he would want a boy he knew where to go. Many brothels and Inns provided them. But a boy as scarred and ravaged as this one would take a lot of cleaning-up and healing. Should he leave the wild boy behind in his helpless condition, which most assuredly would mean leaving him to be set upon and eaten by the creatures of this deep jungle? Or should he bring the wounded boy along with them and have him tended to? Surely in the city this strange boy would be of interest to someone, if the boy healed nicely. Perhaps just sell him off as a slave, or maybe as a comfort-boy at one of the brothels? Maybe even a zoo would purchase the brown skinned, long haired, feral jungle boy? The boy could bring him a little silver or gold in return for his troubles. Besides, he had been in the company of these men for two long weeks, trudging through the dense, sweltering jungle, smelling badly and they still had days of hard travel ahead of them to get back to home. Having a pretty, young boy with him may provide at least some amusement (and comfort), the hunter mused.
With that, his decision was made to bring Mowgli along. Maleek ordered the men to prepare to portage the panther as well as the boy back to their base camp and then on to journey back to the Palace for their compensation.
“We will bring the wild boy as well?” the older guide asked.
“Yes, I have decided that he may be of some value”, replied the leader. And with that, Mowgli had just become a captive and merchandise.
A long pole was being bound to the panther’s fore-paws and hind legs by the porters so it could be lifted and carried by two of the men. They looked to the unconscious boy laying naked and wounded and who was unconscious. The old guide, Sophan, motioned to Maleek to come help him pick the child up. They lifted Mowgli, one on each side, holding the boy in a reclined sitting position, enabling the boy’s bowels to relax and hopefully release the contents inside. The old man looked tenderly at the child in their arms, small and helpless, all seventy-five or eighty pounds of him. The boy’s neck stretched thin as his head and hair hung back, with his arms and legs dangling below him. At first a few drips of reddish goo dribbled naturally out of Mowgli’s opened hole, which, after a few moments, became more like a thicker string of reddish brown slime. Then, suddenly, the boy’s abdomen muscles contracted tightly and he convulsed violently as thick globs of red goo pumped out of the boy’s ass in a long thick spurts. Mowgli jolted forward and then backward as they held him tightly in their arms- he grabbed onto his head, pulling at his hair by the roots as his little body began to expel massive volume of panther cum and boy-blood that filled his entire bowels. After several series of forceful discharges, the boy’s intestines tightened and he arched forward trying to expel more, though nothing remained inside. Dry heaves racked his bowels as he cried, pulling his body tightly together, his knees drawn tightly up against his chest. Sobbing hysterically, Mowgli grasped the back of his head and pulled himself into a tight ball still cradled in the men’s arms.
Gradually he relaxed and his muscles loosed up and he merely slumped in fatigue as both men watched in amazement at what just happened. Carrying the boy gently, they stepped away from the mess of thick panther cum and everything else that was in the boy’s bowels. They put him down nearby, outstretched and laying on his back. Maleek looked down at the boy and then looked over at the mound of thick goo that spewed out of his guts, and estimated almost a quart of panther sperm was in there from just a short time ago. He briefly envisioned the act; probably several series of fucks, of the panther raping the boy again and again. Perhaps the panther was still fucking the boy when the hunter shot him? Was the panther wildly rutting and ravaging the boy’s asshole, thrusting in and out of his victim? Was the boy a sweet mate? How did the boy sound as he screamed? Or did he simply moan? Maleek caught himself deep in these thoughts and forced the steamy images away…
Sophan, the old guide, then looked around and found the discarded ruminants of Mowgli’s loincloth as Maleek looked on and watched the old man tend to the wounded boy.
The end of the boy’s loincloth was soaked with water from the man’s canteen and he rubbed some green moss into the frayed fabric to keep it slippery. He then tore off a long thick thread from the crudely woven red cloth, tucked it under the boy’s hips and wrapped it around, tying the ends together above the boy’s ass. Sophan then placed his hand under one of the boy’s knees and raised the thin brown leg upward. The bleeding from his hole seemed to slow a bit and the last drops of panther cum had just dripped out of the boy’s puckering hole. The old man then put one end of the dampened cloth against the boy’s reddened anus and with his forefinger he pushed the cloth inward. Mowgli stirred and moaned and cried as if having a bad nightmare, so the man stopped and waited. He had only gotten the fabric dressing inside the boy about an inch but he patiently waited. It would need to go in much farther if it was to do any good and stop the bleeding inside the boy’s raped ass. Feeling many eyes on them, the old man ordered the porters away so he could perform his medical procedure with some measure of privacy. Maleek knelt down opposite the old man to help. With one hand he gently stroked Mowgli’s long hair and pretty face to sooth the boy, as he slipped his other hand under Mowgli’s other knee and lifted it up as well, pulling the boy’s thighs outward to expose the boy’s red hole quite clearly. The old man glimpsed up at Maleek to acknowledge his help and saw the way Maleek was gazing down upon the naked boy, his eyes wide and his tongue sliding between his lips. Maleek shamefully caught himself, knowing the old man saw and probably suspected his feelings, but the old man smiled back and nodded. Shame and embarrassment lifted from the hunter as the old man pulled Mowgli’s leg farther apart so Maleek could have a clearer view down between them. Licking his own lips now, the old guide began to press his cloth-clad fingertip deeper inside the boy. Immediately Mowgli began to squirm again and thrash about so that Maleek had to hold the child more forcibly. Mowgli was easily subdued and the guide’s finger continued to ramrod the damp fabric down and inside the boy’s ass. The old man saw Maleek beginning to become aroused at all this and he spoke quietly: “Your hands are larger and your fingers much longer. It would be best if you could complete the procedure, please?” Knowing it was just a polite invitation to enjoy a little finger-fucking disguised as a ‘medical procedure’ Maleek agreed. Rather than removing his finger only and leaving the cloth already pushed inside the boy’s bloody hole, the old guide withdrew his finger along with the tattered piece of cloth that had been shoved inside the boy’s ass.
With a slight smile and a quick nod of his head, Maleek took the rag from his partner. The guide then changed his position and sat at Mowgli’s head, lifting and resting the boy’s head on his lap. He took hold of both of Mowgli’s legs by the boy’s ankles and lifted them up and backward over the child’s head. Then the old man looked with a smile at Maleek and gently splayed the boy’s naked legs far apart like chopsticks, revealing for Maleek vthe red, wounded, beautiful little butthole awaiting his attention. Scooting in closer, with sweat now dripping down his forehead and dropping onto his white cotton shirt, Maleek wrapped his long middle finger with the cloth and licked the top for added moisture. He placed it on the tender hole and as he scooched down to better see, and the man began to press his clothed finger inside the restrained jungle boy’s asshole. Mowgli could only cry and wail and shake his head from side to side, unable to move his arms which were pressed together between the old man’s legs. Deeper and deeper inside the boy’s asshole the man’s finger went, wiggling slightly as it dug in, forcing the damp, coarse fabric farther into Mowgli’s abused hole. Maleek was becoming very much aroused as he now finger fucked the naked boy being held tightly down for him by his assistant. Soon the cloth had been shoved inside Mowgli the entire depth of his finger. The man held it inside the tearing youngster, and watched Mowgli’s face carefully as he gently twisted his finger around inside him. Oh how beautiful he looked as he strained against the hands holding him, and as the finger deeply fucked him. Maleek withdrew his finger and began to press in additional lengths of the cloth, beginning to pack the child’s injured intestines. He twisted his finger inside the child’s passage, feeling the damp sides of the boy’s wounded intestines, savoring the experience. He watched the boy’s face become contorted in pain and his eyes squeezed shut and his teeth bit into his lip as he moaned and cried aloud like a girl while the man’s finger turned and bent and prodded and molested his already tortured insides. Maleek remembered the few times he had rented boys at the Inns of various towns and cities, how pleasurable a good, fresh one could feel, and he wished to the gods that he could put his cock where his finger was and fuck the living shit out of this wild brown boy. But he knew it would further damage the kid, so he decided against it, for now. He stopped torturing the boy finally and the two men allowed the boy to settle down, while Maleek gently withdrew his finger, leaving most of the long loincloth cloth stuffed deep inside Mowgli’s ass like a soft dildo, the remainder hanging out like a cloth tail.
They all then stood up, both men pulling the boy up with a hand tightly around each of Mowgli’s upper arms. Looking him over carefully, the boy was small and thin, standing slightly taller than the hunter’s elbow. His naked body was brown, not dark brown but a more golden brown. His long hair was as black as the panther’s that had raped him; It was thick and slightly wavy, falling in loose bangs in front, almost covering his big brown eyes, and down to his shoulder blades in back. His face was quite stunning with a triangular shape, with high cheekbones and a fine chin. His lips were pouty and full, and his eyes had a certain asian characteristic, pointing slightly upwards and with long, curled eyelashes. His nose also, not strong and pronounced like the peoples of the towns, but more button-like. His jaw line was sharp and his neck was long and slender, enhancing his rather girlish appearance. Mowgli had a still-undeveloped chest, small and flat but with larger nipples than usually seen on boys. His ribs were pronounced and accentuating the flatness of his stomach and lower abdomen. The boy’s body tapered from his slightly broad shoulders to a delicate, thin waist and then pronounced hips. His arms thin and sinewy and his legs were quite long and thin, with knobby knees like a young colt’s. His uncovered boyhood was normal for an adolescent and his scrotum was still plump and dark with a single delicate vein down the center. His ass was beautifully round and full, with cute dimples above the base of his spine, though unfortunately (for Mowgli), his pretty little ass would be cause for some pretty big troubles.
Now though, Mowgli looked rather silly standing there naked on wobbly legs with the long piece of tattered cloth hanging loosely out of his ass like a pony’s tail. Taking hold of the frayed end, the old man pulled the bit of cloth up forward between the boy’s legs and tucked the remainder over the small string tied low around the boy’s pelvis, creating a little cock-pouch in front. It was a very small covering for his boyhood (that some never wanted on the boy anyway), not leaving much to the imagination as to what was inside the threadbare thing, but nonetheless Mowgli seemed to smile as his loincloth, or what remained of it, was returned to him. However, both men knew full well that at first chance the boy would pull the cloth out that was stuffed deep inside his rectum to stop his bleeding. (Certainly, a damaged boy would be of no value in the marketplace.) Maleek decided that the boy should be carried, but that his hand would have to be bound. Mowgli struggled as the old guide held the boy’s forearms together in front. Maleek took a long cord of rope and wrapped the boy’s wrists together, crossing one over the other, and knotted the cord tight. The boy was held tightly in place as Maleek knelt down behind Mowgli (cautious that the feral boy wouldn’t start kicking him!) and quickly wrapped another cord around the boy’s ankles. Before Mowgli realized what was happening and could resist them, the hunter yanked the rope tightly, pulling the kid’s feet together as the old Sophan held him still. Maleek wrapped the cord around the boy’s ankles several times more and then satisfied with the result tied the knot tight. Squirming and trying to break free, Mowgli growled and barked like an angry dog at them all. Maleek paid no mind the angry but powerless kid. Trussed up nice and secure, The two men grabbed Mowgli, and forced the boy flat onto the ground.
The old man pinned Mowgli down by the shoulders and Maleek held him by the ankles. He called over and one of the porters brought a long, sturdy pole of bamboo for the boy. They laid the long pole atop of the boy and, as several men held Mowgli still, Maleek proceeded to tie child to the bamboo pole. His hands were pulled tightly upward and Maleek lashed the boy’s wrists to the upper end of the pole. Then one cord went under the boy and pulled his chest tightly against the pole. Then another went around his ankles, tying them also to the pole also. To keep his body from sagging down, another rope was drawn up from between the boy’s crotch and around both of his hips, like a “Y”, slightly spreading his thighs and pulling his groin up snugly against the pole where it was tied tightly. Next his knees were spread apart, positioned on either side of the bamboo pole so his legs could be pulled tightly against the pole which ran between them. His thighs were then bound securely and his legs were now immobile. Lastly, a loop was made of woven hemp that he could rest his head in as he was carried. Not to most comfortable arrangement but it would serve the purpose.
The group stood around Mowgli now, looking him over. Now the boy was all ready to go. With both the wild animal and the wild boy each bound to their respective portage poles, the hunting party packed up and set out for their base camp and then on to the Sultan’s palace.
The hunting party traveled back through the jungle along the same rout they had come. It was better and easier now that they did not need to concentrate so much on the hunt, though they did need to be wary of the many dangerous animals that indeed were everywhere. But they had their trophies and had been thinking of their payment when they finally delivered the wild panther to the Sultan. The boy’s fate was of no matter or concern to the porters, other than to keep him safe and secured.
The jungle-boy, they understood, was just the private property of Maleek .
The men took turns carrying the captives on their poles; it took two men to porter each one, though the boy was quite a bit lighter than the panther, even though it too was not yet fully grown. While the old man guided the hunting party back to their camp, Maleek sometimes scouted and hunted for small game to eat, or gave the porters a break by assisting them, (though he would end up only helping transport the boy). The return journey was non-eventful by in large. They traveled single-file, and took frequent rest breaks to eat or water-up themselves. By mid-day the guide estimated they were about half-way to camp and they stopped for lunch. Carefully laying down the boy and the now semi-conscious panther, they sat around and told stories and joked and laughed. Maleek went and sat next to the boy who was awake, alert and angry. He did not appear in pain, since he had been trussed-up well. Maleek offered the boy a drink from his canteen, but Mowgli had no idea what that even was and refused the water. Watching this, the old guide went and got a large banana leaf from a plant nearby and made a small bowl. He poured water in and brought it over and held it under the boy’s chin. Mowgli lapped it all down like a thirsty puppy. The old man also gave the boy a banana, but nothing more as he wanted to avoid having the boy need to crap too soon.
After about thirty minutes they were up again. Mowgli and the Basheera were hoisted up again and the journey continued. Maleek helped porting Mowgli, carrying the head-end of the pole on his right shoulder and his rifle on his left. Mowgli was unaware that MMaleek was watching him as they traveled through the jungle. Rays of sunlight and dabs of shadows played and danced over the boy’s body, which now glistened golden brown from the sweat lightly trickling off his smooth young skin. The boy lightly bounced with the flexing pole, up and down, with every step they took. His groin rubbed up against the hard, round and smooth bamboo that pressed hard against him. With the rhythm of each bounce, the pole touched him and teased him. The boy’s small penis was beginning to get stimulated and hard from the friction and rhythmic rubbing. Mowgli remembered the new, electric feeling building up inside him down there. It was what was happening to him now. He was confused and frightened. Those feelings brought so much pain before, and he began to sweat even more, soaking his already damp skin. But the bad panther was not touching him now, he thought, only the strong hard bamboo pole that he was tied to. It would not hurt him. He was safe. He would not be raped by the pole. It is safe… he was safe…. In relief the boy calmed down and his concentration returned to his growing cocklet and the warm feelings growing inside his loins. Though he was unable to move much at all, he worked with the rhythm of the pole. Up and down he was lightly bouncing , squeezing his thighs and pushing his hips upward into the bamboo pole when the pole pressed downward into his groin, and relaxing as it sprang up. Over and over and over he repeated the movements, making those feelings burn hot inside him.
Maleek was watching Mowgli and he caught on to what was happening. He saw the boy’s thigh muscles tighten and relax with every step they took, and saw how Mowgli had been straining his head up into more contact with the hard pole. “By the gods, look at this, the boy is masturbating!” Maleek quickly became aroused, seeing the nearly naked boy trying to fuck the wooden pole he was bound to. So with each step, the man amplified the bouncing, giving Mowgli more thrust to work with. Over and over the boy humped and squirmed against the pole until finally he let out a cry and his knees spread as wide as the ropes would allow and he froze, pushing his hips against the smooth round pole between them. “Uhhhh.. uhhhhh… uhhhhhhh…” he moaned as he made one last thrust upward and froze there for the moment. And then he was spent, his head slipped off the little support strap and hung back down, his long hair falling freely below him. With his neck stretched so, and his mouth hung open, the boy’s small body bound tightly to the pole he hung from, Maleek became quite aroused and harder and began leaking himself at such a sight. Then Mowgli’s eyes open and look up at him, big and round and brown, but quickly filling with tears. In moments Mowgli’s tears were flowing down. Maleek called to the lead man and another man came and tucked the boy’s head back into the supporting sling. As they continued onward, Maleek focused intently on the small hips of the boy in front of him. He looked carefully with the sharp eyes of a hunter and knew it was not sweat drooling from inside the boy’s wet loincloth. He then prayed silently that the boy would hurry up and heal quickly…
Maleek called for a stop for a brief break from the group in order to take care of some personal business (“relieve himself” he said, which was in fact true) and he then returned to walk with the old guide and another porter took his place carrying the bound boy. They continued onward down the crude trail until they came to a broad clearing where the hunting party could spread out more. It was later in the afternoon and the clouds overhead were getting very dark. The two teams of porters were now walking almost side-by-side, with Mowgli strapped to his pole and Bagheera hanging from his. Mowgli looked over at the horrible animal now beside him and began to panic… Basheera looked back at the boy he had so enjoyed fucking the shit out of earlier in the day and began to smirk and grin….
“What is that I smell on you, boy?” Basheera chuckled. ”And what is that which drips from your little dick? You must have been thinking hard about me to make such a big mess in your little loincloth.
“I know how you miss me Mowgli, how I mated you and took your innocent virginity and seeded you ever so fully and ever so deeply…
“Ahh, yes, Mowgli, you were a good little bitch. And don’t worry, little one, my hungry cock is not finished with you yet- I will have your pretty little ass again, and I will finish you. I promise!”
Mowgli knew Basheera would rape him at the first chance he had and he just wanted to die…
It was now dusk and the hunting party finally made it back to the camp at the edge on the inner Jungle. A light summer rain had just begun to fall. The other three of Maleek’s men had been keeping camp and tending the horses as the others hunted for the panther. They unloaded their gear and took the panther to the wagon, on which was a strong metal cage with iron floor and double-rod bolts. They lifted the animal and carefully slid him into the box. Then, in order to keep safe, the hunter placed a small tranquilizer dart onto the tip of a pole and quickly jabbed it into the panther’s hind quarters. Within minutes Basheera was fast asleep. They then selected from the wooden storage chest one of the iron collars which would fit the panther’s neck. It had a small hinge to open it and a clasp which locked it shut and was fit with a long iron chain. They attached it and locked it into place. The men untied the ropes from the animal’s legs and quickly closed the door and locked it securely. The three camp keepers expressed wonder at the beautiful panther and were anxious to hear the stories of its capture. They also wondered aloud about the strange boy they carried along as well. Maleek said that they would all get the story soon but for now he asked them to untie the boy, except for his arms, and to affix an iron collar and chain onto the boy’s neck as well, and then fastening him to the strong wagon wheel.
With everything done for the day, the sun setting in the west and the rain only falling in brief showers now, the group would retire early to their tents. No long campfire stories of hunting and adventure tonight, for the morning would come soon enough and their journey home would begin. Maleek went and checked on the boy who straightened up as the man approached. But something was wrong… The man grabbed Mowgli by the arm and hoisted the little boy up. That’s when he saw that the boy had been rubbing his ass hard against the ground, trying to pull out the bandage shoved inside his ass.
“Sopan, come quick” he called as the old guide hurried over. Using a lantern to see, they examined the boy and determined that no harm had been done inside the boy’s asshole, luckily. They decided that Mowgli was too much of a risk to allow such freedom of movement, even with his bound arms. But the old man also warned against keeping the boy’s arms bound behind him like this as it could certainly injure him. But what were the options?
Maleek came upon the solution. They brought the boy to the center of the camp where a circle of torch poles were set into the ground. He had one of the men to bring them several long sturdy bamboo poles and several lengths of cord, which he quickly did. Holding him tightly, Maleek untied the shivering boy’s arms. His arms fell to his sides, almost useless from many hours on being tied. Mowgli had tears flowing down his face as he saw the long poles and ropes, thinking they were going to kill him.
They then placed one pole across the jungle-boy’s shoulders, carefully avoiding the puncture wounds near the boy’s collarbone. Mowgli could only watch and wonder what they were doing as his arms were being stretched out to the ends of the poles and his wrists were bound there. With the pole extending across the child’s back, the boy was now bound securely in a crucified position. Mowgli struggled against them in fear of what was happening, but many strong arms held him fast. He felt strange being held by so many men in the circle of fire, with his arms bound outward in such a manner. But it just got worse for the boy. Another long pole was placed on the ground behind his feet. Two more men took hold of each of the boy’s ankles and they pulled them apart, the boy’s feet sliding in the earth as he dug his toes in trying to resist. But his legs were easily opened, stretching them out to both ends of the long pole. Maleek knelt down, this time in front of the shaking boy. He placed one end of the pole against Mowgli’s left ankle and tied a cord around it, binding his leg secure. He then went to Mowgli’s right and did the same with that leg, binding the boy’s ankle securely to the sturdy bamboo pole.
At his command the boy was lowered face down onto the ground. With his arms and legs spread apart by the bamboo poles, he could barely move except to twist his little body. Two more bamboo poles of the same length were brought over and laid at each end of the leg and arm poles. Men then grasped the arm and leg poles that Mowgli’s wrists and ankles were tied to, and stretched the boy out even more tightly so that the four poles had formed a square frame and were then lashed firmly together. Mowgli cried and moaned as he lay splayed out like a ‘X’ on the ground, with his head lifting and turning side to side, bewildered as to what these men were doing to him!
The last task to be done was to elevate the frame and the boy in it off the ground. Wooden planks, split from logs of firewood, were brought over and the men began stacking them at each of the four corners of the bondage frame. The upper frame would be done first; they lifted the top of the framework about a foot off the ground as the others stacked the wooden planks under the top two corners. When it was a good height they simply rested the upper framework on top the crude wooden pylons. They then repeated the process with the bottom part of the frame, raising it up, stacking wood under the corners and checking it until they would get it just right. Ever so gradually, Mowgli was being hoisted up off the ground in this crude frame, securely bound to it, stretched and hanging by his outstretched arms and legs. When the frame had been elevated up high enough, about knee high, Maleek looked at the work and smiled. Mowgli was in position. He looked perfect like that.
So there in the center of the circle of burning torches was the solitary form, a horizontally mounted bondage frame, crude and terrible, with the boy tightly stretched within it. The almost naked boy hung motionless, positioned face-down in the frame, his body pulled taught by strong ropes that stretched his body painfully apart by his thin arms and slim legs. His head hung down, long black hair falling over his shoulders and shrouding his beautiful face. His ribcage expanding and contracting with each heavy breath of air as his youthful limbs painfully strained to support his helpless young body.
Meleek’s little property was now safely secured for the long night.
The evening rain began to gently fall, watering the silent jungle around the solitary Mowgli, and washing his brown body. The water falling on him made his skin a glistening brown and gold under the flickering lamp light of the dozen torches burning in the circle around him. Motionless and silent he hung there, listening to the rain fall, feeling it massage and touch his naked skin. He ached a lot and occasionally stretching his fingers out or moved his feet in small circles, it was all he could do with them. His head would lift up ever so slightly and his mouth would open to get a taste of the cool refreshing rain, only to simply fall back down exhausted. He stared down aimlessly at the wet ground beneath him or gazed down along his own hanging body, noticing how his little body begged to rest on the earthen bed under him. He felt the rain water pooling in the small of his arched back and watched the overflow trickle from his hips and fall in tiny streams from his body. He could not move his arms or legs in the slightest bit, as much as he wanted to. He fatefully gave up hope and surrendered to his condition, to hang there helplessly and vulnerably and wait in growing pain as he was slowly being stretched apart in the frame.
Maleek tossed and turned in his cot. He knew he was exhausted and that he should be asleep by now as assuredly everyone else was. But his mind was wide awake, and he finally gave in to what was going on. He got up and looked outside into the dark, rainy night. In the short distance saw the circle of burning torches that were surrounding the captive jungle boy, illuminating him but protecting him as well from any hungry nocturnal predators. He pulled the tent flap shut and cursed himself for his desires. Sitting back down on the edge of his cot, Maleek put his head in his hands and thought it out. He knew the boy needed to heal before anything could be done with him. But he knew what he himself also needed. Turning it over and over in his head he came to a decision;
“Dammit”, he thought, “Do what you will, after all, that feral boy is no one’s property but yours!”
Maleek rose up and pulled off his clean nightshirt and, with nothing else to put on he grabbed a light sarong which he quickly wrapped and tied around his waist. The hunter was determined to do what he wanted- what he needed to do this night. He threw the tent flap back open and walked out into the light rain and aimed directly toward the waiting child.
He approached Mowgli without saying a word. The boy was hanging silently in the frame with his arms and legs pulled tightly to the four corners of the framework, with his body hanging slightly lower. Maleek’s approach was from the child’s rear and he first could see the boy’s opened legs splayed out before him. Within a few moments he was up next to the bondage frame, looking with keen eyes on the beautiful boy’s small back, his long beautifully opened legs and his delicate stretched arms. He could not see Mowgli’s head which hung down below the boy’s chest. The rainfall had coated the child, making his brown skin glisten. He looked down at the boy’s spread legs and studied the red cloth pressed into his little, abused hole. It was darker red in color now, from the rain water that was saturating it. Probably safe to pull it out of him like this, he thought. He kneeled down to get more level with the splayed boy. His hand reached over the frame poles and rested the back of the boy’s right thigh. Mowgli jolted in surprised shock and threw his head up as far as he could but he wasn’t able to look back. Maleek liked the way Mowgli tried to twist around and see who was there. His hand slid softly over the boy’s soft, wet skin, up and down, his fingers lightly feeling his lovely brown flesh inside his thigh. His thumb caressed the boy’s skin as his hand traveled gently farther up and down Mowgli’s open leg.
Maleek could not stop now. The boy was here for him and he had no choice any more. He stood up and stepped inside the bondage frame and squatted between Mowgli’s spread legs. The boy was panting heavily as he knew that someone was there, that someone was touching him , that someone wanted him. The boy looked below his own body and could only see the dark figure which was positioned between his legs. Mowgli gulped and breathed harder and tried to lift his head and scream but he just could not. He was exhausted and in pain.
Maleek sat in a kneeling position now, placing nervous hands on the boys naked legs. He continued feeling the boy’s soft, luscious and wet skin, feeling how smooth the boy’s legs were, how beautiful they look spread open like this. He could feel the boy’s body responding as well, shivering and twitching as he slid fingers delicately and gently around and around. His hands moved farther up the boy’s legs and he began to rub harder as his fingers approached Mowgli’s opened ass. He could smell the aroma of the boy’s skin now, drawing his face closer in between the child’s barely covered crotch. He moved his hands in unison around each butt cheek, sliding then in gentle, widening circles, until his hands began exploring the sides of the boy’s hips. He leaned farther forward and stroked downward to the boy’s front, his fingers gliding over the hip bones which stuck out so prominently.
How glorious this boy’s little brown body was, he thought as his hands returned to work on Mowgli’s upper thighs and ass. Then, unable to stop himself, Maleek took careful hold of the loincloth that had been inserted within Mowgli’s rectum. Gently, carefully he began to extract the damp cloth. He heard the boy moaning and gasping and felt him twisting his hips as he continued to pull the cloth dildo out of Mowgli’s asshole. Inch by delicate inch it pulled out. Soon Maleek had about ten or twelve inches out and thought about the same still inside. He needed to be slow so he wouldn’t tear any scar tissue, though that wasn’t really a concern now! In just a few more moments, he gave one last tug and the wet cloth slid completely out of Mowgli’s small, puckered asshole. The lovely hole was gasping!
Maleek smelled the damp cloth, wet and stained with blood and cum, and draped it over his neck like a tiny scarf as he continued on with the boy.
He paused and stood, looking down at the innocent below him. He stepped over the boy’s splayed leg and arm and squatted down directly in front of Mowgli’s hanging head. He ran his fingers through the mop of black hair, letting the long strands fall freely in wet strands. He placed hands on both of the boy’s shoulders and slowly glided them back, down the child’s sagging torso, feeling the boy’s extended ribcage swell and retrach with each labored breath. His fingers traced down the boy’s back, down his spine, each hand meeting at the small of the boy’s back. Index fingers pressed down and in the small crack of Mowgli’s bottom, feeling the soft sweet flesh inside the parted separation. Meleek continued to massage the child, comforting him, giving him some peace before the coming storm. He stopped and sat back a bit and lifted Mowgli’s head by the chin, looking at the beautiful features of his victim’s young face. Rain ran down him, making his brown features gleam golden in the torchlight. The boy’s eyes lifted to meet Meleek’s, who smiled at the tortured child. The man leaned forward, his lips soon touching the boy’s as he began to kiss the weary child. Then Meleek took the wet remnant of Mowgli’s loincloth and placed the center of the strip between Mowgli’s jaws and drew the ends together behind the boy’s head under his long hair. Pulling the cloth tighter, he had now made a gag for Mowgli: “This should keep you from waking up every one!”.
Satisfied with his head-end, Meleek returned to Mowgli’s rear end…
Maleek lowered again and put his thumbs on either side of Mowgli’s waiting hole. He pushed in and spread the boy’s ass lips apart, barely able to see inside with the flickering torch light. But he knew there would be other opportunities to study the boy’s body later. He put his face between the boy’s parted cheeks and gently licked around and inside him. He loved the taste of the boy’s opened hole. Mowgli bucked as much as he could, which wasn’t much. Maleek smiled- he liked how the ropes kept the boy splayed open like this, making it so much easier to do what he wanted to with the helpless kid.
Finally, Maleek was ready. He knelt up straight and untied his sarong, letting it fall off his nude body. He was a strong man, not thin nor fat but well proportioned and muscular. The hunter began to stroke his already throbbing cock as he knelt so close into Mowgli that their bodies already touched.
“Time to introduce myself, jungle boy”, Maleek said. “I am your owner and you are my slave. And you have something I want which you will be giving me every day, heheh”. Maleek rubbed his hands in the puddle of water pooled in the small of Mowgli’s back. He rubbed the rain water all over his dark, hard cock and held it against the boy’s small hole.
“I know you don’t want this, boy, but I am gonna give it to you anyway”. Then he held the soft, wet ass cheeks and with both his thumbs spread opened the kid’s little hole as much as he could and pointed the dripping head of his cock against the sensitive little brown and red boy-cunt. He inserted the tip, snug and tight, into the entrance of Mowgli’s ass hole, causing the boy’s head to throw backward in shock and sudden pain. Pausing there a moment, he then shifted himself in closer and with one hand gripped the boy by his waist and grasped Mowgli’s right shoulder with the other. With gentle pressure, he leaned in and began pushing his hips forward, driving his rock-hard cock further inside the boy. Mowgli shreaked and cried and threw his head wildly about, causing his whole body to tremble and shake as Meleek watched his own cock disappearing into the boy.
“Stay still, you little bitch” the hunter growled as he grabbed a handful of Mowgli’s long hair and yanked the boy’s head up and back, as if he were reigning in a small stallion. The boy’s neck stretched back as far as possible and he gasped in pain as his rapist began pushing his cock deep into Mowgli’s already raped asshole. The boy moaned in pain as loudly as he could, which wasn’t very much.
“God, god, god this is good”… and he pushed inside the boy’s lithe little body deeper, then a little deeper and ever so slowly even deeper.
He watched in the golden light of the flickering torches how the boy’s little muscles tightened and released with his every push in. Even with the heavy pressure needed to cram his fat cock inside the boy’s small hole, the child could not move or resist. He was the perfect victim. The man loved how the boy looked so small and delicate as his cock continued to disappear inside the small body. He released his grips on the child and gazed down at him. He loved the way the helpless boy hung suspended under the man, spread open like a bird, alluring the man to take him, to own him, to use and to penetrate and to fuck him. His long cock was fully inside the boy, forced in to the limit and swollen inside the boy’s bowels, his hips locked against the boy’s spread loins. He and Mowgli were now joined together as one.
Maleek reveled inside Mowgli’s body. The warm, wet velvety softness encasing his throbbing cock was like heaven. His hands glided over the trembling little body beneath and in front of him. He leaned over, lightly resting on top of the stretched boy, hearing him whimpering and growling in agony. The child was indeed his slave now, and he relished owning the boy.
Maleek had given Mowgli enough time to welcome his cock in, and began to pull it out. He looked for any blood and saw just a little. He pulled a bit further and then stopped, and slowly forced himself back inside the boy. Mowgli’s head lifted up, obviously in pain as Maleek hit bottom again. The man was enraptured in the bliss he felt inside the boy, and wanted it to last forever. Again he pulled out, almost the whole way out, and again he pushed in, albeit a bit faster this time.
“Oh yesss… yesss little bitch…. Oh fuck…. Oh god…..”
Maleek leaned in again and began to withdraw and return thrust a bit harder and faster now. He positioned himself to go in at a slight angle now, hoping to hit something inside the boy. He held the boy’s skinny hips and then grabbed one of the boy’s shoulders and pumped in and out much harder and faster.
The rain started falling harder as the man started fucking Mowgli even harder. Man and boy were shining wet, with the slapping sound of his body slamming into the boy’s ass as loud as thunder bolts. Mowgli’s little body wasn’t resisting at all, merely absorbing the violent energy of this hard fucking. The man reached forward and grasped the boy by both his shoulders. Then Maleek pulled back and with a great thrust into Mowgli let him have it with all he had, thrusting and bucking and ramming into the helpless adolescent. Mowgli raised his head up in obvious agony, only to have the man grab it by his hair and pull the boy’s head as far back as possibly, like he was taming a wild horse. The man was getting close to his climax as he rammed violently in and out and in again, hitting inside the boy’s guts in every angle.
Mowgli was bleeding again, his blood coating Maleek’s hugely fat cock. Unable to scream, unable to move, all the boy was able to do was to be bred and bleed. But the man had also been hitting the boy’s small nerve bump inside his guts, sending feelings of electricity throughout the boy’s body. Again he was being overcome with sensations of horrible tearing pain and also of strange, electric pleasure, washing over him in waves like the rain washing over is body. As Maleek released his grip on the boy’s hair he leaned atop the child and reached under him and took hold of the boys hard cocklet. Maleek continued to fuck him as he also began to masturbate Mowgli, and within moments Mowgli was dripping threads of clear goo from his dick. Maleek released the boy s dick and knelt straight up and turned his own head toward the sky and with his hardest, last thrusts slammed deeper than ever into the child’s guts. The man shook violently, every muscle electrified and spasming as a wave after wave of ecstasy overtook him and bolt after thick bolt of warm cum shot deep into the boy’s ravaged intestines. Four, five, six, seven… eight times the man pumped his hot sticky seed inside the boy’s ass, filling the boy to overflowing.
The man wanted to collapse atop the boy but he knew his weight on him would rip the boy’s arms from his body. Rather, Maleek pulled his bloody, softening cock out of the silent, motionless boy. He lay on his side, within the bondage frame, looking up at the boy suspended above him spread eagled. Mowgli’s head hung straight down, his hair dangling down, dripping wet. The rain continued to fall, streaming off the little boy’s completely naked body. Maleek raised his hand and pushed the boy’s hair away from his face and looked carefully at the boy. He looked even more beautiful than ever, he thought. Maleek positioned himself in front of the bound and hanging boy and lifted Mowgli’s head up by the chin. He reached around and untied the gag over Mowgli’s mouth. The boy’s mouth opened in relief. Maleek lowered his head to Mowgli’s and placed his mouth against the boy’s swollen lips and began to kiss him.
“Let me finish it for you as well, boy” he said as he reached under the boy and began to gently stroke his hard little cock. He continued kissing the boy though, holding his head up to his own, Harder he squeezed the boy’s dick, rubbing the head with his thumb and softly pumping it, sliding his fingers up and down the throbbing boy’s shaft. Mowgli’s entire body trembled and his dick danced and his moist lips parted to receive Maleek’s probing tongue. He continued to kiss his bound slave as he masturbated the young boy, which soon sent Mowgli into his own tortured climax, spewing several long strings of pearly white boy-cum splattering into the rain puddles beneath him.
Maleek's session with the boy was finished now. However many hours of night remained, and they would pass quickly as he began to grow overcome with sleep. He got up and took his soaked sarong and threw it over his shoulder. He then looked down at the boy he had just raped, tied and hanging motionless in the frame. He returned to the captive boy and lifted one corner of the bondage frame to remove several of the stacking slats elevating it, so that Mowgli’s head and shoulders lowered toward the ground. He then removed more wooden slats from the other side. As the top of the frame lowered, Mowgli’s upper body was no longer hanging knee-high in mid air, as his head and upper chest rested lightly on the wet ground below. The man then took the cloth gag that was in Mowgli’s mouth, and went behind the boy and knelt between the boy’s still raised, spread legs. He licked and fingered the boy’s cunt, making Mowgli flinch, and peeled back the puckering hole lips to see bubbles of bloody semen beginning to ooze out. He took the rag and began to shove it back up inside the boy’s abused hole. Mowgli gasped and thrust about as Maleek , using two fingers, stuffed the loincloth deeper inside Mowgli’s asshole, clogging up the release of the warm cum he had just shot into the abused boy.
He then leaned forward with his head resting on Mowgli’s shoulder. Maleek pulled Mowgli’s hair back away from his tearful face and whispered directly into the boy’s ear;
“You should become familiar with man cock as well as with animal’s, boy!”
Maleek then took his sarong and wadded it into a cushion and placed it under the young boy’s head. Mowgli’s eyes closed and then either fainted or slept. Either way, the man was done. He turned and went back to his tent.
He didn’t even notice the dozens of spying monkeys quietly descending towards the boy from the trees above.
To be continued…

Chapter Text

Chapter 4
Unwelcome Visitors

Meelik had retired into his tent as all the camp had grown quiet and all the lanterns turned low. The rain had almost stopped and only the faint snoring of a few of the men could be heard.

Except by Mowgli. His rest was short-lived as he was startled by the sound of scuttling feet and barely audible chirps and snickers from the dozens of monkeys that were quickly gathering around him. He strained his head to look but was only barely able to really see small hairy legs and feet of the approaching primates.

Mowgli pulled hard against the ropes holding him splayed on the bondage frame, but the bindings were tight. He could only toss his head slightly in response to the first probing of soft fingers on his skin. The monkeys knew Mowgli, they had known him for many years and often teased and taunted him from safe distances, making the boy irate as they always stayed a safe distance and he was unable to get them. And they hated the wild human child, who spoke of them as mean little thieves to the other animals, and the monkey people soon became shunned form the friendships of others in the jungle lands. Now the monkeys were able to taunt the young boy, and surrounded him, as they realized he was immobilized in the wooden frame and posed no threat at all.

Emboldened, the monkey leader, named King (who was far bigger and stronger than the others), stepped closest to the boy. He squatted down and grabbed Mowgli by his long hair and hoisted the boy’s head high off the ground, stretching his neck upward so their noses were almost touching. Mowgli let out a vicious snarl which seemed to frighten all the monkey cohort except King, who puckered his lips together like a volcano and wildly sprayed spit directly into Mowgli’s face! The boy shut his eyes at the blast and tried to shake his head away, but King held him tight. Without releasing the boy’s hair, the big monkey stood up and, like he was hoisting up a trophy, he lifted the boy’s head and upper torso right off the ground below. Mowgli groaned in pain as he was held up, his mouth open in anguish as King leaned in closer and began to rub and grind his groin into Mowgli’s face. Up and down the monkey pulled the boy’s head against him, causing King to become excited and his penis extended from it’s sheath in response to the stimulation.

The monkeys gathered around closer, seeing how King had freely tormented the helpless captive. They began to poke and prod him, like they had done to him in the jungle before scurrying away to safety. But now they didn’t need to flee, and continued to poke and jab their fingers into Mowgli’s stretched body. They seemed to enjoy prodding at his bony rib cage, making his body twist and try to rise in an attempt to avoid the jabs. King held Mowgli’s head tighter, with one hand under the boy’s jaw and the other behind the boy’s head, pulling him into his groin even tighter. Mowgli could barely breath as his face was buried in the woolly hair and soft underbelly of the assaulting monkey. King’s cock began to wedge upward sliding over Mowgli’s lips and beside his nose, where he smelled the wafting aroma of monkey flesh. Up and down King rubbed and grinded Mowgli’s face against his warming and growing groin, becoming harder and more aroused.

A couple of the troop ventured from Mowgli’s side to explore his hind quarters where the boy’s legs opened wide apart and elevated in the bondage frame. They continued poking fingers into Mowgli’s smooth brown skin, the resulting twisting and squirming of the boy’s body making them heckle and giggle. Then, as monkeys often do, one began to pursue his curiosity even more with a poking finger at the boy’s exposed anus. They could feel the boy’s body respond much more violently as the monkey at his rear probed at the small puckered hole. King held Mowgli’s head even tighter into his groin as the others instinctively grabbed hold of the boy’s torso, wrapping long hairy arms around him and holding him still.

With him completely immobilized, the monkey between his legs began pushing his finger into the boy's hole. At the same time, King slipped a thumb into Mowgli's mouth, drawing his jaw open and unable to close (or bite). Mowgli’s voice was thoroughly muffled as he screamed into King’s warm and growing groin, his voice cut-off as the animal's cock slipped in and out of the boy's opened mouth. The smaller monkey between Mowgli's legs pushed his finger even further inside Mowgli's tight hole as a few other monkeys slipped under the boy, whose splayed body served also as a roof above them while rain fell harder. Fingers slid over the boy’s round wet ass cheeks, several hands pulling them wide from both sides, giving more space for hands to work between the thin, open legs. Then after one long hairy finger was completely buried inside Mowgli, another monkey began to join in the fun and his long finger also began to venture in. Panting heavily and wrapped tightly in a dozen strong arms holding him, Mowgli tried to bury the agony and fear and terror that was soaring through his mind. But the burning pain of several long fingers forcing their way inside him, turning and curling and sliding around in him, made him go crazy. And then, when he thought he could not handle any more, his dick was firmly in the grasp of small, leathery fingers, pulling and twisting like the utter of a cow. None of the ravaging animals would slow or even pause in the devastating assault of the helpless jungle boy. Mowgli’s face was being raped as well his ass.

In a matter of moments, King exploded his thick, stinking cum onto the boy’s face and across his mouth- gobs and gobs of thick pasty goo slicking the tortured child. The large monkey hummed and groaned at the release, somehow keeping quiet in an effort not to stir the humans he knew slept not too far from them. King held Mowgli’s head, rubbing the boy’s face round and round against his wet belly, wiping off the semen that coated them both. Then, finished with the boy he let go, letting Mowgli flop down into the mud below. His eyes were shut tight against the world, trying to block-out all that was happening to him but it would not work. Just as his chest and head landed with a splash, he felt a far greater pain as something burned even more inside his ass. He threw his head up and back in an effort to scream, but King was crouching next to him, his hands held over the Mowgli's mouth. No sound came from the helpless boy, only silence as his body spasmed against the intense onslaught. Straining to look behind him he could barely make out the dark forms against the golden flicker of the burning torches surrounding them. There were two or three of them squeezed between his legs, pushing in and forcing his legs even wider apart. They all were grabbing at his hips and ass, struggling to accomplish their need. Rather than patiently waiting their turn, one by one their long thin monkey cocks pierced through the boy’s stretched hole, sliding in and out independently. Mowgli was being fucked by three crazed monkeys at once, each pushing the other out of the way to shove their own meat into the boy. But somehow they figured a way to position themselves so that all three cocks were inside Mowgli together, and they began to slide inward and outward in unison. Many others held Mowgli tight as King stood back to watch the spectacle, allowing another to take his place at Mowgli’s head. Again, the boy’s head was roughly lifted upward by his hair and the new monkey began to grind his moist warm groin into Mowgli’s face. Holding him by his ears and hair, Mowgli’s face was rubbed back and forth against the animal’s hot hairy loins, until soon a second monkey joined in.

The boy half-passed out from the pain, his body hung limp, hanging stretched spread-eagle in the bondage frame. The three inside him were penetrating and thrusting deeper and deeper into their newly aquired whore, as he slowly regained consciousness from pure agony. Hands scratched and fingers dug into his skin, his hair almost yanked right out by the savage monkeys face-fucking him. Even lips and teeth sucked and nibbled at his dangling cock below throwing the boy into further agony and despair.

Exhausted and completely defeated, the boy’s body finally succumbed to the onslaught and all resistance failed. He was completely at their mercy to use as they wanted and his small body would not even attempt any futile resistance at all. Mowgli was now a boy without a soul, strength or will; he was a sack of hanging meat for their pleasure this night. His own body was not even his any more. He was ruined. The boy’s eyes closed and his jaw released and his mouth fell open against the warm fat belly of the monkey he was pressed against. He surrendered to them and took the long shaft of the monkey’s cock into his open mouth. He felt it swelling in his mouth as hands held his head tightly, pressing deeper toward his throat. Then the second monkey’s cock entered his mouth as well. He could not breath as his reflexes made him gag into the meat, but it didn’t matter, they went into his stretched little throat and fucked him in there. One animal grabbed the boy by the back of his head, pulling him tighter in as strongly as possible. The longer cock pushed down into Mowgli ever beeper until, in a moment, it twitched and shivered and bolted and his throat was suddenly filled with warm gobs of monkey cum as his head was ground tighter and tighter into the monkey’s pounding groin, forcing him to swallow again and again as he was continually being filled by two monkey cocks simultaneously.

They did the same in his ass, too, as the three seemed to climax inside the boy’s soft intestines at the same time. Though he wasn’t able to move on his own, the thrusting cocks inside him make his little body buck like a small boat in high waves. Then, when all were done shooting their heavy loads deep inside the boy, they withdrew out of the him with slurping and then ‘pop’ sounds, letting his body drop and sag in place within the crude bondage frame. He hung there stretched, wet, scratched, bleeding and virtually lifeless.
Mowgli’s eyes just looked half-lidded and lifelessly at nothingness. He was utterly destroyed.

King eagerly hopped in again for a closer look at the once proud and untouchable Jungle-boy. He lifted Mowgli’s face up to his own by the chin. The big monkey smiled broadly, showing his large, ugly yellow and black teeth. Both their eyes met and Kon spoke to the boy very quietly:

“There are so many of us. You now ready for round two, Mowgli?”

Mowgli then felt small leathery hands on his ass again. They were spreading his cheeks open while other hands were grabbing hold inside his thighs and pulling them farther apart. A thick bony finger pressed against his wounded asshole and started to push inward, easily wiggling past the raw and weakened anus muscles.

“Noooonoooomore…..!” the boy somehow screamed, loud and shrill.

King dropped the boy’s head in surprise and shock. The whole troop of monkeys yelped and screeched at the sound, jumping back at the sound of the boy’s voice!

“Noooooooooooo… noooo… nooooooooooo..” his voice fading away into desperate pleas.

Lanterns went on in the surrounding tents as the hinting party of sleeping men responded to the alarm, not knowing who or where it came from. Only wild monkeys screaming in the dark woods beyond the light of the torches gave any clues as to what was happening…

A shot was fired into the air to frighten away and predators that may be in the encampment. The panther, Bagheera, howled and roared within it’s cage in anger and alarm, as the gang of men rushed forward toward the circle, carrying lanterns and freshly lit torches, armed with knives and machetes and a gun…
Meelik showed up and the men circled around him. They stood a small distance from the bound boy, who now remained silent in his frame.

“Has anyone seen anything?” he asked.
“Who cried out ‘No more!?” another asked.
The men clamored among themselves and declared that no one saw anything.
“It sounded like a child” the old guide Sophan said, as he looked over at the boy.
The group moved to the frame where Mowgli hung, his brown body hanging still except for the motion of his ribs as he breathed heavily. The glow of the fires all around him made his dark skin glisten in the night. Meelik and the others circled around the boy.
“He can speak?” one asked.
“What made him cry out?” another questioned.
Then, the lead scout saw the signs and pulled Meelik closer.
“Look at the ground, there were a dozen monkeys here” he said, then looking at Mowgli’s back, he added ”and they attacked him. “He was defenseless”.

It became evident very soon what happened to Mowgli. Monkey footprints were everywhere in the soft muddy ground around the boy; front, sides and back, both outside and inside the bondage frame. The boy’s body had scrapes and bruises all over, on his back and shoulders, on his buttocks, on the backs of his legs and some inside his thighs including light bite marks as well. Some blood still dribbled out of his anus, mixed with white goo. Semen also coated his face and hair. They knew the monkeys had gang-raped the boy and were visibly shaken at the sight and thought of it.

The guide ordered the slats holding the frame elevating the boy’s feet be lowered, and they gently rested the boy’s body to lay flat on the wet and muddy ground. Meelik knelt next to the boy, gently running his fingers through Mowgli’s long wet locks of black matted hair.
He could feel the boy’s body shuddering as he heard Mowgli softly sobbing. He continued to stroke the boy’s hair, neck and shoulders as he thought of the terrible ordeal Mowgli had suffered. And then it struck him… “So this child can speak… “Who or what is he?”
MMeelik untied Mowgli’s legs from the frame and re-tied them lightly together. He kept his arms bound to the frame corners though, as a precaution.

“We will post a guard here tonight; keep watch over the boy. “He may sleep, but not well.”

Then as the situation had returned to calm, the group returned to their tents, with one man remained beside the boy to guard him. He kept the gun for good measure.

In his own tent, Meelik imagined what had happened to the boy. How the monkeys groped and raped him as he was bound so helplessly for them. How the scream pierced the night as sharply as their hardened cocks must have been piercing his ass. As the image formed in his mind’s imagination, his hands traveled down his bare torso and under his sarong as he thought about his own pleasures taken with the jungle boy. He remembered everything, the child splayed out naked, his legs invitingly spread open, and of how the small body was so pleasing for his starving cock. His desire grew anew and his arousal climaxed: “By the gods, what hex has this boy, that everything desires to mate him?” Meelik thought, and after a few pleasured strokes, his desires were satiated and he fell fast asleep.

To be continued

Chapter Text

Chapter 5: Journey to the Palace

Morning dawned and the men began to stir and come out of their tents into the fresh dampness of a new day on the jungle’s edge. Ahead of them were a variety of tasks; sharing the morning meal, striking the tents, tending to the pack animals and the captive panther and boy, and starting the journey through the savanna to the city and palace of the great Sultan Kam Sok.

Needless to say, Bagheera had not missed hearing and seeing (dimly) the events of the night, either. He now paced back and forth in the caged wagon, hungry for meat- meat to both fuck and to eat. Specifically, he wanted Mowgli. But for now the panther would have to settle for the chunks of meat and bone tossed in from the butcher’s waste pile.

The guide had started tending to Mowgli. Together with a few of the men, they had unbound the boy and, since he was barely able to even move, one man held the boy sitting up as the other gently fed soft slices of mango and some cooked rice to the hungry child. He seemed unwilling to eat at first, but with some coaxing, Mowgli responded and began to eat and drink some cool water. They didn’t want him to eat too much however. Over-feeding him would probably make him very ill, while keeping him slightly hungry would also keep him weak as well, and less trouble for the group.

But he had to be cleaned up. The small creek at the foot of the long slope at the edge of camp provided a good place to bathe the child. It was probably the first bath (with soap) he ever had. But Mowgli did not know where they were taking him as the four lifted the kicking and struggling boy up and toted him like a log down to the stream. It was just knee-deep to a man, so tossing the little boy in was harmless fun for them, and watching Mowgli cry out and splash franticly in the water was a welcome break from the monotony of camp life. It took all them to get a grip on his wet arms and legs in order to give him a good scrubbing, being told to go gently around his bottom. With four pairs of hands lathering and rubbing him, Mowgli’s body had finally been cleaned of the mud and cum that coated him, top to bottom. As he surrendered to their efforts, the boy relaxed and seemed to almost enjoy the attention being given to him. These men were not trying to harm him he realized, but seemed to care about him. Mowgli became compliant and allowed moving hands everywhere on his nakedness, even in those places he never wanted touched.

With the child’s body and hair now thoroughly washed, they took him out to lay him on a large flat rock on the banks of the stream. The sun shone down on his glistening brown body, warming Mowgli and finally allowing him to rest peacefully. One member stayed at Mowgli’s side as the others took their turns bathing and washing in preparation for their journey. When all were ready, they again carried the boy (now sleeping soundly) back to the camp as preparations for their departure were nearly complete.

The small caravan was ready by 10:00 that morning, with a few horses at the lead for Meelik and his guide. A few oxen were tethered to several wagons carrying their supplies. The largest was the Cage Wagon in which Bagheera rested, laying uneasy in the bedding of straw and grass. He had a large deer carcass to keep him busy for the start of the journey.

In the head of the line sat an empty two-wheeled ox cart. It was reserved for Mowgli. Meelik wanted to provide some comfort and care for him, since the boy needed to heal and the man would be hoping for a good trade or price for the boy. Mowgli was carried like a small bride up to the front, still sleeping soundly. He was clean, his body washed and oiled, and his long hair was nicely combed and even decorated. (The men had taken the opportunity, as the boy slept, to weave several long strands of his hair into braided bangs, adorning his lovely face. They also wove one larger braid from the long wavy locks of hair in back. making him look quite cute and even girlish.) A bright red and yellow patterned sari was then wrapped around Mowgli’s waist which covered most of his coltish legs. Then they wrapped his wrists with soft cotton fabric to protect them from injury, and a set of ropes was presented. Ropes were tied to each of the boy’s wrists. Mowgli was then carefully hoisted up and placed in the center of the small cart. He was laid flat on his back with his knees propped upward and is feet flat on the wooden floor. His arms were laid out toward the sides of the cart and his wrist ropes were passed through iron rings mounted on both sides of the cart, and drawn tight. Then each rope was firmly knotted, holding the boy securely (and somewhat comfortably) and ready to travel.

With his command, Meelik started the caravan out, the oxen pulling the wagons and carts of supplies, hunters, and prizes.

The journey through the savanna and planes was a pleasant one for the team. The weather was milder and certainly less humid than the jungles and forests behind them. The team stopped several times, though briefly, for necessary breaks. They ate as they traveled, and occasionally sang as they ventured closer to home and payment.

Mowgli was alert and often just sat up un the cart, braced by his bound arms against the rocking and swaying of the ox cart he was in. At times one of the crew would ride along side the boy and feed him (when he would accept their food). But Mowgli was bewildered at the scenery. He was told by his animal friends of the flat grass lands and of the humans that lived there, but he was unable im imagine these things as he never had seen them. But now he did and was not at all feeling comfortable. He missed his friends terribly (except his once-friends Kaa and Basheera). He knew Basheera traveled along with them and could hear the panther’s mighty roar at times, sending reminders to Mowgli that he would be joining the boy again soon… and Mowgli shivered at the thought.

As the last night of their journey arrived, the team did not even pitch their tents but made simple canvas tents and ate fruits and dried meats. They built a large fire, sat around and told stories, drank tea and laughed. Most would be rejoining family and friends and enjoying the rewards of a job well done and well paid-for. It was a happy night for everyone. Almost.

Mowgli remained bound and weary from the trip. His arms were sore, his legs were sore from kneeling, sitting, squatting or trying to lay on the same spot in that small cart. This night, though, he was untied and allowed to rest on the ground. His back resting against the big wheel of Bagheera’s wagon, with his arms bound outward to the heave wooden spokes. Of course, the panther had a delightful night taunting the boy, who was his captive audience this night. Bagheera reminded Mowgli of how he fucked the boy just a day before in the jungle, and of what pleasures it was to have his cock buried deep inside Mowgli’s little round ass. He whispered to the boy how he heard Mowgli moan and cry as he sank his panther cock ever deeper into the boy’s bowels. He told Mowgli how he made the boy his bitch that day and that Mowgli was forever branded his bitch. He revealed how, when he finished fucking him, that Kaa would have his turn. He explained to Mowgli how the snake was going to screw the boy with his tail first and then with his long snake dick while Bagheera worked on the boy’s little cocklet. And after Kaa was through fucking the jungle boy, that they would decide to keep him as a sex pet, or just eat him!

Mowgli struggled and pulled at the ropes trying to get away from the taunting cat, but it was useless. He was virtually crucified there listening to the predator behind him.

“Don’t forget my promise, boy”, Bagheera whispered…”the day is coming for our reunion and your little ass is healing well and smelling very sweet again!”

Meelik cut the conversation short as he came to see the struggling boy tied to the wagon wheel. He didn’t understand that the cat and the boy were communicating and took Mowgli’s twisting and turning as an attempt to escape. He sat next to Mowgli and touched the boy’s hair, sliding the back of his fingers down the boy’ long black silky locks.

“It’s OK, boy, you will be fine” he said. “There will find a place for you, somewhere”. He knelt down next to the boy, and placed both hands on Mowgli’s shoulders. The man looked around to see no one nearby and then looked back at the boy. “I have enjoyed you, and hope to do so again” he said, “But I wonder who you are and where you are from.”I know you can speak, so speak to me now, child” he said. “Sooner or later, boy, you will talk …”

Mowgli just stared back at the man. His eyes were open wide with big black pupils staring into the man’s own eyes. Mowgli’s eyes pleaded with him in fear and in despair. The boy did not speak but parted his quivering lips as a tear, then several, fell from his wet eyes. The man wiped them away with his thumbs, and then gently cradling Mowgli’s head with both hands, pulled his face forward as his lips met the boy’s in a short, deep kiss.

The man pulled back and stood up, discretely looking around. Mowgli looked up at him with those still huge eyes in bewilderment. Then, slowly, he lowered his head and as it lay on his chest the boy began to whimper. The man shook his head and said something under his breath and turned and walked away, leaving Mowgli crying and the panther purring behind him.

….

Soon after sun-up, the hunting party got everything they used packed back up and loaded themselves onto the carts. Mowgli had been taken into the brush to relieve himself. But before placing the boy back on the cart they again combed his hair and adjusted his decorative braids. His skin was given a fresh wipe-down of oils and ropes retied to his wrists. Meelik brought out a fake gold necklace, (part of a stash of costume jewelry brought along to pay off local hillsmen or tribals they may require assistance from) and approached Mowgli. The boy struggled back as the man held both ends of the elaborate gold and ruby studded neck amulet around Mowgli’s thin neck and clasped it in place. It was much too big and almost covered the boy’s small chest. Mowgli, realizing that there was no danger from it, looked down at the wide adornment on his chest in wonder. The gold sparkled against the glint of his oiled brown skin and made the boy look almost like a princess. With a gentle tap on the boy’s cheek, the man murmured, “Got to dress him up for the big boys and girls tonight!” to which another replied, “He has no idea!” They then hoisted Mowgli back up onto the cart (onto a thick straw mat), held his arms out and re-tied them to the opposite sides of the cart , securing him in place again.

With that, they set out for the final few hours of the trip home.

Chapter Text

Chapter 6: The Palace

The small caravan had arrived at the outer gates of the palace walls of the great Sultan Kam Sok. Horns sounded as the wide gate doors were opened for the visitors to enter as groups of people gathered to watch the sight of oxen, wagons, carts and the entourage of hunters. Servants rushed forward to assist and held the livestock as Maleek spoke with the head of the guards. After explaining what to do, as well as exchanging brief greetings to all, the hunters, Maleek and the old guide were escorted toward the many brightly painted villas, while the oxen, carts and wagons were taken towards the stables and barn areas. The caged wagon was covered with a great canvas and pulled away to an unknown building, while Mowgli, kneeling upright and bound in his cart, was being rolled off to another building, with a few servants accompanying the bound curiosity.

The hunters were led to a lovely and well appointed guest house to rest and refresh themselves during their stay. The old guide would be responsible for the good manners of the team, and as such commanded extra authority from among the men. They enjoyed clean beds, a large pool with servants and courtiers, trays of breads, fruits and meats as well as pickles, olives and dried dates were on tables throughout the house. Things were very good.

After his own freshening-up and given a brief period to relax, the hunter was escorted to the Royal Study . He knew the Sultan had been patiently expecting him and his captured trophy Maleek was excited; he thought the Sultan would be delighted with the captured panther. It was the most dangerous and elusive animal he had ever hunted and captured unharmed, and this cat was certainly far more exotic than any in any other animal compound within the entire province. It was also young and would live many years for the enjoyment of the boy-prince who was to receive it tomorrow for his fourteenth birthday. So Maleek smiled broadly as he was ushered forward through the high, gilded doors of the Royal Study.

The Sultan Kam Sok was sitting at a large ebony and ivory studded desk in the center of the room. He arose to greet Maleek (something he would not do to a common citizen of his kingdom). He bade the unter to come sit at the table with him and after formal greetings they began to discuss Maleek’s successful adventures. The Sultan seemed interested, though not excited.

“I have been given reports of your return and of your quarry”, Kam Sok smiled as he spoke.

“My game keeper spoke wonderfully of the animal. He said it was a Black Panther, a very rare capture as they are notoriously allusive and cunning. This means you have done a good job for me and will be paid handsomely, my friend/”

Maleek smiled back and offered his humble gratitude for the privilege of being chosen for the hunt and wished the Sultan and his son many heavenly blessings. (He really wanted to get the payment and get going, but was obliged to present himself as a welcomed guest of honor.)

Not in a hurry to see his guest leave (it was a welcomed distraction from the mundane administrative duties he was attending to that day), the Sultan pressed Maleek to stay a while and tell him how he accomplished the hunt. Maleek realized the Sultan was satisfied that a proper gift for his son was now in the cage of the dungeon room below, being groomed for presentation at the birthday banquet tomorrow. But the Sultan just needed to have a story to tell his son about how he acquired the unique jungle predator. Then his birthday responsibilities to the young prince would be finished and the Sultan could move on to more enjoyable things for himself.

Maleek told of the long journey into the jungle and following the panther tracks. He told how he saw the animal standing on it’s hind legs beneath a large tree, and then fired the dart that knocked-out the cat.

The Sultan was curious; “The panther was trying to climb the tree you mean?”

A bit hesitant but not daring to speak falsely, Maleek shifted in the chair and smirked as he said. “Well, your Highness,, it was in the process of mating when I shot it”.

“Oh so there were two panthers that you could have retained for me?” Sultan Cam Sok asked in confusion.

“Actually, Your Highness, it was not with another panther…. For some unusual reason… it was…mating with a human child, a jungle boy…” “We did not know it until we approached the fallen panther and discovered it had been mating with the child, who lay beneath it unconscious”.

“By the gods…!” the Sultan shrieked in surprise as his arms flung up and knocked several stacks of papers and a fruit bowl inadvertently to the floor.

“I am sorry to have alarmed your Highness” Maleek sputtered shamefully, “but you wanted to know..”

The sultan raised his hand to interrupt, shook his head and smiled, saying how they should not inform Prince Surret of this. He then asked Maleek about the child.

Maleek explained everything. He said how they decided to keep the boy, since leaving him wounded in the jungle would be certain death. Maleek said how he decided to keep him to sell in the bazaar or slave row, or to a brothel. Maleek looked attentively at the Sultan’s eyes, hoping for a question about a price.

Is there more to this jungle boy’s story?” he asked.

“We think the child can speak words. He cried out in the night, screaming words as several monkeys were raping him…”

“Buy the seven heavens and seven demons, what manner of boy is this?” the Sultan exclaimed in surprise.”A wild panther and also monkeys mating him? Incredible! “Have caught the trollop of the jungle? “What is this boy’s age and what has become of this child?”

“He is in the keep below I believe, your Highness”, Maleek answered. “Though he appears to be only ten or eleven years of age, and very weak from his attacks and traveling, I asked that he be fitted in irons since he is wild and untamed, and I need him prepared for presenting to any buyers.” Then he confided further with the Sultan; “In all honesty, your Highness, he is a remarkably alluring little thing with whom I also took my pleasure. With proper training he will serve well and the future looks profitable for his future owners.” The sultan merely raised an eyebrow and tilted his head, replying, “Perhaps so. He seems to be… captivating?” Both men laughed and the Sultan added, “Perhaps I shall have a visit to the stables below (referring to the dungeon rooms in the basement) to see for myself this jungle harlot” Kam Soc mused aloud. The Sultan then rose from his chair and thanked Meleek for his time. He invited the hunter to attend the birthday banquet tomorrow as the panther would be presented to his son. He then assured Meleek of a generous payment in two days time, once the prince’s banquet and the following day’s Naming Day festivities were over. Maleek bowed graciously and bid thanks to the Sultan, and was escorted back to his apartments.

That afternoon, as he had mused further on this curious jungle-boy that the hinter had brought back, the Sultan decided to go down to the ‘stables’. The young prisoner was a curiosity that he could never have imagined, and wanted to see it for himself.

Four palace guards accompanied the Sultan. They passed through long halls of polished marble and glittering frescoes and through several heavy wooden doors ways. With each passing doorway, the halls became less elaborate and beautiful. These halls would not be traveled through by royalty or their guests. This part of the palace was certainly not designed for lovely functions. They finally came to the end where an iron covered door was unlocked. There were oil-burning lamps mounted on all the walls as they descended the winding stone steps. The air felt more damp, with the echoes of dripping water resounding off the crudely hewn stone walls. The clack of their footsteps was amplified in the descending tunnel of steps, until they arrived at the basement floor. Another wooden door was unlocked using a mammoth, ancient key, and creaked as the head guard pushed it open. Immediately they could hear the distant voices of men, maybe three, talking in low voices and the murmuring and groaning of a child. It was the boy.

The Sultan and his entourage passed the ‘stables’ which were the cells where the palace ‘guests’ would be kept for various reasons and purposes. Each was empty, except for the very last one, several doors down, where lamp light flickered through the open door into the damp hallway outside. The guards announced arrival and the men inside immediately quieted and stood in attention.

The sultan looked into the cell. There were three stout men there; one a blacksmiths and two cell keepers. They all kneeled down on the stone floor ,bowed their heads low and held hands together above their heads in homage to the Sultan. All were silent.

The Sultan did not speak to these men, only watched as his guards announced the unexpected visit was to view the boy. The guard then told the men to arise and stand clear.

The Sultan continued his observation. They had a small coal fire in a iron box on the floor, with several long tools in a wooden box beside it. A portable table was also to the side, with various pieces of metal, a mallet and shears, some thick leather straps and long tongs.

In the middle of the small cell was the thing that Cam Sok came to see. There on a heavy wooden table lay the young boy, arms and legs stretched to the corners. Ropes held him tightly in place. Already they had fastened cuffs on both of his ankles. These were fur-lined heavy leather with wide silver and bronze bands wrapped around, with a few iron rings attached that would facilitate the connection of chains or ropes. The men were beginning to work on the boy’s wrists when the Sultan showed up.

Mowgli realized he was being made ready for something that he did not like. He was struggling terribly against his bindings, with a gag tied tightly around his mouth, keeping his screaming to low grunts and shrieks. His colorful sari was dirty and loose with one splayed leg completely exposed, and his long black hair was far messier now than when he had first arrived. When the men tending to him suddenly stopped their work and suddenly looked up at the visitors, Mowgli stopped twisting and thrashing about and also looked toward the crowded doorway.

The Sultan would not step inside such a detestable space, but merely leaned through the cell door frame to get a closer look. He focused on the bound Mowgli, gazed over the length of the child’s body, looking head to toe, back and forth. Obviously the sight of this child, and what he had learned about him, was amazing to the royal personage gazing down at the untamed child of the jungle. The sultan leaned to the guard beside him and spoke something. The guard motioned with his gloved hand and one of the cell keepers unwrapped the sari from around the boy’s hips and flung it open. The sultan raised his eyebrows, now assured that the young innocent bound to the table was indeed a boy.

As the Sultan and his men turning away to leave, the lead guard ordered the workers, “Continue your task and clean the boy after. Take heed to not injure or abuse him”.

The men bowed low again as the royal entourage departed. Mowgli resumed struggling against his bonds and against the strong hands that again pressed him firmly down to the crude old table. They silently returned to work on Mowgli, wrapping a thick leather strap around the boy’s small wrist before bending and riveting the silver and bronze band around it.

Mowgli had no idea what lascivious purpose he was being prepared to serve. But he would soon learn.

Chapter Text

Chapter 7: Prince Surret’s Birthday

Birthdays in the provinces were not as festive affairs as were “Naming Day” celebrations. The birthday was really just a recognition of a successful birth, a lucky time when mother and child survived childbirth. It was a day of prayers to the fertility deities and of special atoning, which generally meant taking a long bath. Also, a special meal was made and shared with family and select friends and then a specially selected gift or two were given the child by a parent. (Traditionally, if the birthday child was a boy, only males partook of the meal; if a girl child, only females attended.)

But the act of naming the child meant giving the child a special place in the family and to become a remembered ancestor for future generations. Though rural peasants merely numbered their children in the order of birth, families of higher cast and society gave names to their offspring, names which often reflected something about the uniqueness of the baby. So when Prince Surret reached his fourteenth birthday, it was a time to acknowledge and be thankful to the gods for a live, safe birth. But the day after, on Naming Day, it was a time to Celebrate and that was definitely more fun!

The prince’s birthday had arrived. He was now fourteen years of age, maturing in many ways. He had spent the morning at the royal family’s private temple offering prayers, and burning incense. After that, the young prince was escorted by courtiers to the bath house. It was a stately place, not very large but quite elaborate. In the center of the pavilion was the great pool, the clear blue water rippling under the open sky above, with vaulted porticoes surrounding it on all four sides. There were flute and lyre players beyond one of the elaborately gilded screens, whose music soothed the warm atmosphere of a warm Indian morning.

Prince Surret exited one of the private rooms facing the pool in a long white silken robe. He had removed his belted pantaloons and red velvet vest, as well as his gold and silver jewelry. His chestnut colored hair, rarely freed from a bun under his colorful turbans, hung in loose waves down to his shoulders. His face was smooth and clear, as at his age he had nor yet begun sprouting facial hair. His high cheekbones and full lips and large brown eyes with his long eyelashes made him out as a very handsome young Prince.

His two assistants (who were actually indentured youth slightly older than himself) had been stationed there and waited outside the doorway to greet the prince. Clad in red cotton g-strings, they walked slightly behind Surret as he approached the pool side and stood near the edge. One youth stood behind and gently slid the thin silk robe off Surret’s shoulders as the other boy knelt down in front and untied the prince’s undergarment, allowing the white cotton cloth to fall freely between the Prince’s feet. Now naked, with his attendants walking alongside, the Prince stepped down the marble steps into the cool, refreshing pool to begin his bath. His hands lightly extended outward touching the hands of the boy’s own hands beside him, Surret looked side to side at them and made a silly giggle as the proceeded deeper and the water level reached his unclothed privates. His shoulders arched up and squeezed together as he quickly hugged himself against the cold water lapping against his nakedness. The other two boys smiled back and giggled alongside the Prince, breaking the silent tension of the moment. Gently wading in deeper, the prince was now chest-deep in the water. He lowered his head and pushed himself under the surface, swimming like a frog underwater. He bumped into one of the boys and stood up, shaking his long wet hair from his face. His eyes met the other’s as he wiped his eyes and smiled, seemingly to apologize for the bump.

They all were enjoying the solitude of the pool as the sun baked down on that portico. The attending boys realized that the time had come to prepare the Prince for the Birthday gathering. Prince Surret scowled at having to end the fun, but understood. They proceeded out of the pool, the assistants holding Surret’s hands as they walked past the pile of his discarded clothing. Into the private room the three went, but not before the two assistants untied and left their wet red loincloths on the floor outside. Giggles sounded inside as Prince Surret was being carefully prepared and adorned…

Chapter Text

A Birthday Wish

Surret was escorted out after they dressed and adorned him. He had bathed and been oiled and dressed in a fine silk tunic of blue and gold , the dhoti of white and a broad sash belt of many colors around his slim waist. He wore soft leather shoes with beads and pearls sown onto them. His hair was pulled back smoothly and tied in the back with a golden ribbon, allowing it to fall freely to below his broadening shoulders. Mascara was carefully applied, enhancing his large doe-like eyes and long lashes.

He looked stunning.

The Sultan and his councilors were already seated when the boy arrived and was seated together at a long table in the royal garden veranda. Princesses and the Queen Mother were also there on cushions and divans nearby. Surret bowed low to his father and mother and sat at the place of honor at the Sultan’s side. Prayers were said and foods were brought forward. Surret ate lightly as he knew that the main festivities would begin tomorrow. He listened as his father told him about the kingdom and laws and how he would someday rule. He heard stories about his ancestors and was instructed to be a fair and just ruler. All the while, Prince Surret tried to keep a pleasant expression on his face, though he was bored and impatient.

The birthday gathering was  not very large, especially not as large as the banquet for Naming Day that would be held tomorrow. There were only fourteen guests seated at the low cedar table covered with fine white linen cloths. On these were placed platters and trays of various meats, vegetables, fruits and sweets. The guests were seated  on the floor mats around the table. Prince Surret sat at the head, his father seated to his right and his mother seated to his left. Maleek sat directly across from the Prince, at the far side of the table. After the formal greetings and prayer, the guests began to partake in the meal.
Surret turned to his father, the Sultan. “Father, thank you for the special gift you have for me tomorrow”, the Prince began. “The hunter told me that you have brought a wild black panther to keep as mine?” The Sultan smiled at his son’s excitement. “Yes, Son,” he replied. “Maleek brought the panther from the jungle for you”. The Prince turned his gaze directly at Maleek. “Hunter Maleek”, he spoke formally. “Tell me about the panther and the caravan?” Maleek smiled and bowed his head respectfully. “Your Highness Prince Surret,” he began, “We traveled for many days to bring the beast to you. But he was caught and transported safely.” The Prince smiled and leaned forward slightly as he asked, “And who was the girl in the last cart?”
Maleek looked puzzled, his brow furrowed. Then his expression softened as he realized the Prince’s confusion. “Ah, that was not a girl, Your Highness. That was a wild jungle boy.” Surret’s eyes widened in surprise. “A boy?” he exclaimed softly. “I thought…. but how... he looked so…. beautiful?”
The Sultan chuckled softly. “Yes Son, he is a boy, though indeed exotic. He was captured alongside the panther.” The Prince sat back, his gaze thoughtful. “Tell me more about him?” he asked Maleek. Who was that boy with the leopard?” Maleek shifted awkwardly on his cushion. “He is…. unique, Your Highness. He lived in the jungle….” his voice trailed off momentarily as the Sultan gestured discreetly for him not to elaborate further.

Surret’s eyes flickered with concern as he leaned closer to his father. “But Father… why is he locked below?” he whispered urgently. “Is he dangerous?” The Sultan’s expression hardened slightly as he patted his son’s hand. “He is wild, untamed… not fit to walk among us.” Surret persisted, his fingers curling around the edge of the table. “Please Father,” he murmured, voice trembling with sudden emotion. “Before my Naming Day—let me see him? Just for a moment? I must know…” His plea hung in the air, fragile as incense smoke, as he searched the Sultan’s stern face.

The Sultan hesitated, then sighed. “Very well,” he conceded, snapping his fingers at a nearby guard. “Bring the jungle boy up.” Surret’s breath hitched as armored footsteps echoed away into the palace depths. Unease rippled through the assembled guests—Maleek shifting uncomfortably, the queen mother stiffening—but Surret kept his gaze fixed on the arched doorway where lantern light pooled on marble floors. Distant echoes climbed the stairs: the dragging scrape of chains, a muffled cry swallowed by stone walls.

Suddenly, bright torchlight flooded the entrance as Mowgli appeared. Held upright by two guards gripping his small brown arms, the boy stumbled forward, chains clanking heavily from his leather and steel cuffs. His eyes were unfocused slits beneath flowing long hair, head lolling against a guard’s shoulder. They’d dosed him with opium-laced tea to sedate him—his bare feet scraped limply across the cold marble, skin now smudged with dungeon filth beneath his sari. A collective gasp rose as guests recoiled from the bruised, drugged spectacle dragged toward the prince’s table.

Prince Surret leaned forward, palms flat on the tablecloth. “His name?” he whispered, staring at Mowgli’s bruised ribs exposed through the open sari. One guard yanked Mowgli’s head up by his hair, forcing the boy’s dazed eyes open. Surret flinched at their emptiness. “Mowgli, Highness,” replied Maalik, swallowing hard. “It means… *little frog* .” A startled chuckle escaped a courtier—quickly silenced as Surret shot him a glare sharp as a dagger. The prince’s gaze softened as he studied Mowgli’s parted lips, the fading monkey bite on his shoulder, whispering to himself, “A frog… trapped in a well.”

Surret approached to look at Mowgli, who struggled against his captors' grasp. The boy’s eyelids fluttered as if surfacing from deep water.

Prince Surret extended his hand to lift Mowgli’s chin—two fingers pressing gently beneath the jawbone. As he traced the curve of Mowgli’s chin toward the corner of his lips, Mowgli’s eyes snapped open with feral clarity. Without warning, Mowgli lunged forward to sink his teeth into Surret’s index finger, but the prince's reflexes were sharp and the bite was slight.

Maleek threw himself forward like a coiled spring, knocking Mowgli’s legs out from under him as the guards hauled backward. The boy crashed onto the marble with bone-jarring force, chains clanking violently. "He is still wild and untamed like your panther!" Maleek spat, planting a boot between Mowgli’s shoulder blades to pin him. "And just as dangerous, your Highness." Blood dripped from Surret’s finger onto the pristine tablecloth, blooming crimson in the linen’s weave. The Queen Mother screamed for physicians, but Surret merely stared, transfixed, at the feral boy writhing beneath Maleek’s heel.

"Father," Surret’s voice cut through the chaos, sharp as shattered glass. He raised his bleeding finger—a dark, deliberate gesture. "I have changed my mind about tomorrow’s gift." Every head turned as the prince’s gaze locked onto Mowgli’s pinned form. Surret then spoke loudly, pointing at the boy on the floor before him, his voice cracking with exhilaration, "I want him. Not the panther." Gasps rippled through the courtiers. Ignoring his father’s thunderous expression, Surret stepped closer, looming over the jungle boy. "This creature bit me. Me!" His whisper carried lethal precision. "No stable-master breaks beasts for the Sultan’s son. Tomorrow, at my Naming Ceremony before all the nobles, I will tame him." He smiled coldly, looking down at the pinned and chained jungle-boy, "and when he resists, I will punish him publicly. Let everyone see their Prince as master of something truly wild."

Chapter Text

Late that night, when the birthday meal had ended and everyone had retired to their quarters, Surret lay atop his bed, hands clasped behind his head as he gazed up at the ceiling above. He was unable to sleep, his imagination alight with thoughts of the captive boy we would soon own. Tossing and turning, he finally arose and slipped a light tunic about him and ventured out to visit the man who would be able to tell him more about Mowgli...

Maleek was startled by the soft knocking at his chamber door. Inside the dimly lit room, the hunter was sitting at a small table, sharpening his knife. He set it down and swung open the door to see Surret standing there in the corridor. The prince slipped inside without a word, his eyes dark and glittering in the candlelight. As Maleek closed the door, Surret leaned against the wall, folding his arms across the elegant silk of his robe. "Tell me everything," Surret demanded softly. "About the jungle boy. What happened to him? How did he become... broken?" Maleek shifted uncomfortably as he studied the young prince—Surret's smooth cheeks flushed with excitement, his full lips parted slightly, and the bandaged finger held loosely at his side. Maleek’s gaze lingered on the prince's beauty, and for a heart-stopping moment, he pictured Mowgli kneeling before Surret—the jungle boy’s lean body draped in silks, eyes downcast, Surret's delicate hand tangled possessively in Mowgli's dark hair as he smiled cruelly. The Sultan’s son would savor owning such a wild thing, Maleek realized—would relish molding him into a pet.

Maleek took a deep breath, deciding to tell Surret exactly what he wanted to hear—something to stoke the prince’s hunger. He leaned close, lowering his voice to a conspiratorial whisper. "Your Highness… the jungle boy wasn’t always broken. Before we caught him… he was fierce. But one night…" Maleek paused, watching Surret’s breath quicken. "One night, we saw something… something savage." Maleek leaned forward, his voice dropping to a raw whisper, his eyes locked onto Surret’s flushed face. "We saw him—the boy—helpless beneath Bagheera’s huge black body." Maleek placed a rough hand on Surret’s shoulder, pressing firmly to emphasize his words. "The Panther had him pinned… fucking him… rutting into that tight little hole while Mowgli screamed. Awful… awful sounds." Maleek watched as Surret’s eyes widened, pupils dilating into dark pools. He pressed on, deciding to stoke that fascination further. "The Panther didn’t stop… not until he emptied himself inside the boy." Maleek lingered on the image: Mowgli’s small body trembling beneath the beast’s claws, the slick slide of muscle and fur, the jungle boy’s choked cries echoing through the trees. "We watched," Maleek breathed, his thumb unconsciously rubbing Surret’s collarbone through the silk. "We watched how… thoroughly… the Panther took him."

Surret shuddered, pressing a trembling hand against the cool stone wall as Maleek’s words coiled around him. The prince’s lips parted in a sharp gasp—not of horror, Maleek noted with satisfaction, but of hungry fascination. "And… did he fight?" Surret whispered, his gaze unfocused, as if already picturing it. Maleek smiled inwardly. He hadn’t witnessed it, of course—just heard rumors from frightened porters—but the prince didn’t need truth. He needed fuel. "Oh yes, Highness," Maleek lied smoothly. "He fought… until he couldn’t. Until the Panther owned him." He leaned closer, his breath hot against Surret’s ear. "Bagheera mounted him… again… and again… filling him deep… making him accept it." He paused, letting the silence thicken. "Making him… want it." Surret’s eyes snapped to Maleek’s, burning with something dangerously close to arousal. "Is that… possible?" the prince breathed. Maleek nodded slowly. "For a beast? Or for a prince?" He let the implication hang—letting the boy's unknown desires come out.

Maleek stepped back slightly, his gaze drifting deliberately down Surret’s slender frame clad only in thin silk. "You know," he murmured, his voice rough, "That first night we saw him—in the jungle, tangled in vines—we thought he was a girl." Surret froze, his breath catching. Maleek reached out, his calloused fingers tracing the air inches from Surret’s chest. "His body… so small… smooth like polished teak." His eyes locked onto Surret’s. "Much like yours, Highness." Surret flushed crimson, but didn’t pull away. Maleek leaned in, his voice dropping to a gravelly whisper. "We soon bound him too… sprawled… helpless. And seeing him like that…" Maleek’s hand clenched slowly at his side. "He aroused us. That beautiful little body… broken open… still helpless and able to be taken." He watched Surret’s throat work as he swallowed hard.

Maleek saw Surret perspiring and growing hot, beads of sweat forming on his upper lip. He continued, leaning closer still, his breath humid against Surret’s flushed skin. "At camp… we lashed him between four stakes as our prisoner. Arms wide, legs spread wide—splayed out spread-eagle in the mud. Just that tiny loincloth clinging to his hips." Maleek’s knuckles brushed Surret’s arm, feather-light. "We gathered around… stepped closer… like you are now." Surret’s breath hitched. "He looked so small… so fragile beneath us," Maleek pressed on, his voice thick. "That scrap of cloth… barely hid anything." His gaze flicked downward meaningfully. "His cute little boy-cocklet… twitching through the damp fabric each time he trembled. We watched it… harden… straining against the cloth." Surret’s eyes widened impossibly, riveted. Maleek smiled faintly. "You see, Highness? Wild things… they fight. But they yield, too."

Surret swallowed hard, his voice a whisper. "What… happened next?"
Maleek hesitated, tilting his head slowly. His eyes glinted in the dim candlelight as he studied the prince’s feverish expression—the parted lips, the rapid flutter of Surret’s pulse beneath his delicate jawline. "Do you truly wish to know?" he murmured, leaning so close their noses nearly touched. The air thickened with unspoken promise. "What I saw… what we did…" His thumb ghosted over Surret’s silk-clad collarbone. "It wasn’t… gentle." He paused, letting the silence coil tight as a noose. "And you, Prince Surret…" Maleek’s gaze dropped deliberately to Surret’s groin, noting the faint tenting of the silk robe. "...look so very much like him tonight."
Surret's breath hitched as Maleek's final words struck him—his mind flooded with visceral images of Mowgli pinned beneath the hunters. Heat surged downward like molten lead, pooling between his thighs. He trembled uncontrollably, fingers digging into his own forearms as arousal roared through him. His skin flushed crimson from throat to temples, slick with sweat that soaked through his thin robe. With a gasp, he slid one trembling hand beneath the silk fabric. His fingers fumbled against his own hardness—smooth, swollen, and pulsing like a trapped bird against his palm. He grasped himself desperately, stifling a whimper as Maleek watched, transfixed.

"You will say nothing of this to my father," Surret choked out, the command thick with panic and need. Maleek nodded slowly, his expression unreadable as he guided the shaking prince toward his narrow bed. Surret sank onto the coarse wool blanket, legs splayed wide, robes hiked shamelessly high. He arched his back, thrusting shallowly against his own fist. Maleek knelt before him, voice dropping to a conspiratorial rasp. "At camp, after the Panther claimed him..." Surret moaned softly, hips bucking. Maleek leaned closer, painting the scene: Mowgli's spread legs, the hunters circling like vultures, fingers tracing the bruised trails Bagheera's claws had left. "The boy wept—begged—but we stroked his trembling thighs..."

Maleek paused, lips curling into a grim smile as he recalled the gap in their awareness.
"What we never noticed—not once—was the troops of monkeys watching from the mango trees above." Surret froze mid-thrust, fingers tightening around himself. Maleek's stare grew distant. "Dozens of them, silent as shadows... seeing Mowgli helpless beneath us. Seeing us."
His gaze snapped back to Surret's flushed face. "They saw how we touched him... how we made him cry out..." Maleek’s thumb traced Surret's inner thigh, pushing the silk higher. "...how we made him slick between those spread legs."

The prince shuddered violently as Maleek leaned closer. "Later that night, after we drank ourselves senseless..." Maleek whispered, his breath hot on Surret's ear. "...those monkeys descended like feathered demons." His hand slid beneath Surret's robe, palm pressing flat against the prince's damp stomach. "The boy was still tied—arms wide, legs wider—when they swarmed him." Surret gasped, bucking into Maleek's touch. "They used him like a jungle toy. Mounting him everywhere at once—face, ass, throat—while he screamed into the mud." Maleek's fingers inched lower, tracing the line of Surret's hipbone. "I woke to the sound... his choked gags... their squealing joy... the wet slap of monkey skin pounding into human flesh..."

Maleek paused and straightened up, locking Surret's feverish gaze. His thumb still pressed possessively against the prince's hip. "Should I continue," he whispered, leaning slightly forward until their foreheads almost touched, "...or are you getting uncomfortable?" Surret's lips parted—not in protest, but in a silent, desperate plea. His thighs trembled, the silken robe now bunched around his waist.

Surret gasped sharply—a jagged intake of air—as Maleek whispered thickly, "Nothing will be said of this to your father, by either of us?" The prince shuddered violently, nodding so hard a bead of sweat flew from his temple. Maleek smiled with predatory satisfaction. "Good." His fingers drifted lower, tracing the damp trail leading beneath Surret's navel. "Because what I saw next... would shame even a Sultan." He paused, letting his knuckles brush against the straining silk tented at Surret's groin.

Maleek continued; "I slipped quietly outside," he murmured, his breath hot on Surret's ear, "to see... a dozen monkeys around the splayed little boy." His thumb pressed harder against Surret's hipbone, pushing the prince deeper into the mattress.

Surret whimpered as Maleek explained how the large monkey slowly licked the boy's ass.; "Kon, the largest one, squatted low," Maleek rasped, his fingers sliding beneath Surret's robe to trace circles on his inner thigh. "He spread those bruised cheeks wider... tasted the Panther's seed still clinging to Mowgli's hole... then dragged his rough tongue all around the rim." Surret twisted slightly, gasping. "The boy whimpered... helpless... as Kon prepared him." Maleek leaned closer, whispering wetly into Surret's skin: "The monkey's tongue pushed deep inside... twisting... stretching him open... licking him clean until Mowgli's body went slack."

Maleek paused, studying Surret’s flushed face and shallow breaths. "Highness," he murmured, his voice softening unexpectedly. "Would you be... more comfortable laying down?" Before Surret could respond, Maleek slid his calloused hands up behind the prince’s silk-clad shoulders—one palm flat against the small of Surret’s back, the other slipping beneath the hem at his neck. With practiced gentleness, Maleek guided Surret backward onto the narrow bed. He hooked his thumbs beneath the silk robe’s sash and drew it slowly downward. The fabric pooled around Surret’s hips like liquid moonlight, leaving the prince exposed in only his thin cotton thong—the damp fabric clinging to his arousal. Maleek’s gaze traveled hungrily over Surret’s trembling body, lingering where the sheer cotton strained against the prince’s hardened cocklet. "Much like the jungle boy... stripped bare," Maleek breathed, his knuckles grazing Surret’s prominent hipbone. "Vulnerable."

Maleek leaned in, his lips almost touching Surret’s ear as he continued the story. His hand gently stroked Surret’s long hair and glided his fingertips downward along the prince’s damp neck as he whispered: "Beautiful... just like Mowgli looked that night." His fingers trailed lower, tracing the delicate ridges of Surret’s collarbone. "After Kon finished tasting him... the smaller monkeys descended." Maleek’s palm slid across Surret’s chest,smooth and damp and golden-brown. "Their fingers... everywhere." His voice dropped to a fevered rasp against Surret’s ear: "Teasing his swollen little cock... probing his stretched hole... pinching his nipples till they stood dark and stiff." Surret arched violently, his eyes squeezed tightly shut as a choked groan escaping him. Maleek pressed down firmly on Surret’s hip. "Hold still, young Prince," he commanded softly. "Or you’ll miss the best part."

Surret gasped and turned to look with desperate eyes at the man’s own, just inches away from his. Maleek’s gaze was darkly amused, predatory—a hunter watching his prey tremble.

"Did you know," Maleek whispered, his thumb pressing hard into Surret’s hipbone, "that while the big one worked between Mowgli’s open legs, another—smaller, delicate—worked the boy's face?" His fingers slid upward to cradle Surret’s jaw, forcing the prince’s gaze to hold his. "It preened him… plucking twigs from his hair like a lover." Maleek’s breath hitched with perverse delight, his own thumb sliding over Surret's trembling lower lip. "Then—incredible—Mowgli opened his mouth… not to bite, but to accept the smaller one’s lips as it leaned in." He paused, savoring Surret’s ragged breathing.

Maleek’s lips grew closer to Surret’s own—a hair’s breadth away—as he breathed the next words onto the prince’s skin. "The monkey kissed Mowgli… deeply… wetly… slipping its tongue into that jungle-boy's willing mouth." His knuckles brushed against Surret’s jaw. "And Mowgli—" Maleek’s voice dropped to a raw rasp, "—he strained into it, Highness. Like he needed it. Like he was starving for that first kiss."

Maleek reached down and slid Surret’s trembling hand away from the straining bulge in his damp cotton thong. With practiced ease, he untied the thin string and glided the flimsy fabric aside. His lips brushed against Surret’s own—a fleeting ghost of contact—as his calloused hand closed around the prince’s slick, five-inch cock. Surret moaned, hips bucking up into that rough grip. "Shh," Maleek murmured against his mouth. "Be still. Or you’ll spill too soon." His thumb slid over the flushed head, smearing precum down the shaft, while his other hand pinned Surret’s hip to the cot.

"More..." the young prince moaned as Maleek slid closer to the naked boy on his bed. "Then listen close, Highness." He leaned in again, breath hot. "The monkey kissed him deeper," he whispered, his thumb circling the weeping tip of Surret’s cock. "And Mowgli opened wider... letting that beast lick past his teeth... suckling its tongue like a starving cub at a teat." As Maleek spoke, his lips finally met Surret's own.

Surret gasped as the hunter kissed him boldly—mouth hot against his, tongue rough and tasting of sour coffee—while his hand still worked the prince’s wet shaft. The contradiction tore through Surret: disgust warring with desperate arousal. He arched against Maleek’s grip, caught between the urge to bite and swallow. Maleek broke the kiss, teeth grazing Surret’s jawline. "Then Kon moved," he breathed into the prince’s ear, dragging his calloused palm slowly down Surret’s shaft again. "Pulled Mowgli’s hips higher... settled behind him..." His fingers tightened possessively around Surret’s cock. "...and pushed his slick purple knob against Mowgli’s stretched pink hole."

Surret whimpered as Maleek’s thumb smeared precum across the prince’s belly, mimicking Kon’s probing grip. "The boy cried out—not from pain," Maleek rasped, leaning close enough that Surret tasted coffee again. "From pleasure." His fingers slid lower, tracing the sensitive skin behind Surret’s balls. "His hole sucked Kon inside... slick... hungry..." Maleek’s nail dug lightly into the prince’s perineum. "...like yours aches to be filled right now."

Maleek paused and asked, "Would you like to finish satisfying yourself, my Prince?"
Surret whimpered and twisted onto his stomach and legs splayed wide. He buried his face in the coarse wool blanket, fingers clawing at the mattress as Maleek’s hand slid beneath him—palming his slick cock from behind. "Yes," Surret gasped, muffled and desperate. "But... tell me how... how they broke him." Maleek chuckled darkly, fingers curling around the prince’s shaft. "He came untouched," he hissed against Surret’s ear. "Spurted like a wild thing while Kon split him open." His thumb pressed hard against Surret’s perineum. "Just... like... this."

Maleek was gentle—painfully so—as he withdrew his hand from Surret’s slick cock. His knuckles brushed the prince’s trembling inner thigh instead, calloused skin whispering over damp silk. "I know you’re untouched," he reminded himself silently, tracing feather-light circles near Surret’s virgin entrance. "A royal prince... pure, he hispered into the boy's ear." His fingers retreated completely, hovering just shy of contact. "So I won’t breach you." Surret shuddered violently at the loss of touch, torn between relief and aching frustration. Maleek’s thumb slid upward instead, stroking the flushed curve of Surret’s ass. "But those monkeys..." His voice thickened. "...they had no such restraint."

Surret arched higher onto his knees, silently begging. Maleek’s palm settled firmly atop his spine, pressing him deeper into the coarse wool blanket. "Kon, such a strong and large monkey, mounted Mowgli from behind," Maleek rasped, fingers splaying possessively over Surret’s exposed hips. "Gripping those bruised hips like handles." His thumb dug into Surret’s dimpled flank, mimicking Kon’s bruising grip. "He drove into the boy again—*harder*—burying himself to the hilt." Surret gasped, biting the blanket. Maleek leaned close, lips grazing Surret’s ear. "Mowgli’s scream tore through me... not pain..." His palm slid downward to cup Surret’s wet sac. "...ecstasy."

Surret reached down and grasped his pulsing cock. "Finish, please!" he begged, fingers slicking precum violently up his shaft. Maleek seized Surret’s wrist, wrenching it behind his back. "Not yet," he growled. "The little one—the kisser—climbed onto Mowgli’s back as another took his place at Mowgli's mouth." Maleek pressed Surret’s face harder against the mattress. "Wrapping spindly legs around his waist..." He hooked his ankle over Surret’s thigh, forcing his legs wider. "...while Kon slammed beneath him." His free hand slid beneath Surret’s hips, thumb pressing against his clenched entrance through damp cotton. "The boy took both at once—cock spearing him below, teeth biting his shoulder above—right where..." Maleek’s thumb pressed harder. "...you ache."

Surret screamed into the wool blanket, muffled and primal. Maleek tightened his grip on the prince’s pinned wrist. "Mowgli shattered," he hissed. "His body bucked—not to escape—to meet them." Maleek’s thumb slid lower, tracing the seam beneath Surret’s balls. "He came screaming—untouched—spurting ropes onto the mud." Surret’s hips jerked wildly against Maleek’s thigh. "Kon roared as he flooded Mowgli’s guts," Maleek continued, his voice thick. "The little monkey biting deep and drew blood from his neck." Surret whimpered—a wounded animal sound. Maleek leaned closer, his teeth grazing Surret’s ear. "Then he cried out—just like you."

Maleek released Surret’s wrist abruptly**. The prince gasped, twisting to clutch at his own aching cock. Maleek knelt back, watching Surret’s frantic strokes. "Listen," he commanded softly. Surret froze, fingers slick on his shaft. "Outside my tent," Maleek whispered, "the monkeys shrieked “Victory!” He paused, letting Surret imagine the sound—the jungle triumphant. "Mowgli lay gasping," Maleek continued, his eyes fixed on Surret’s trembling hand. "Covered in seed... blood... monkey musk." Surret’s thumb circled his weeping tip. Maleek’s gaze darkened. "Then Kon crawled over him." Surret’s breath hitched. Maleek leaned in. "And licked the boy’s tears."

Surret’s hips bucked violently. Maleek smiled—a predator savoring weakness. "Kon cleaned him," he rasped. "Lapped the cum from his belly... sucked the blood from his bites..." Surret whimpered, stroking faster.

Maleek slid his fingers between Surret's beautiful golden ass cheeks, parting them like ripe fruit. His coarse fingertips circled the prince’s slick hole, pressing rhythmically against the tight rim as Surret gasped into the blanket. Leaning closer, Maleek kissed the nape of Surret’s neck—slow, wet bites punctuating each push of his circling fingers. Surret’s breath hitched, back arching impossibly high. "There," Maleek growled against his skin, "just like Kon claimed Mowgli."

Maleek teased and almost penetrated the boy, deliberately holding back and edging him as he gently commanded, "Cum, my Prince". His thick fingertip paused at Surret's puckered entrance, pressing firmly—not breaching—while his other hand snaked beneath the prince’s hips to encircle his swollen cock. Maleek stroked slowly, twisting his palm around the weeping head as Surret shuddered violently beneath him. "Now," he breathed into Surret’s ear, tightening his grip. "Flood my hand like the jungle boy spilled into the mud." Surret’s hips jerked wildly—trapped between that relentless touch and the promise of intrusion. "Let go," Maleek urged softly, pressing his knuckle deeper against the clenching hole.

Maleek’s lips brushed Surret’s ear as he whispered, "I can imagine you doing this to your new gift, Mowgli?" His fingertip retreated from Surret’s entrance only to slide lower, tracing the sensitive seam beneath the prince’s balls. "Your first royal command," he murmured, pressing the pad of his thumb hard against Surret’s perineum. "Kneeling behind that bruised boy... spreading those torn cheeks..." Surret whimpered, fingers twisting in the blanket. Maleek’s voice thickened. "Your royal cock nudging his stretched hole..." He tightened his grip on Surret’s shaft. "Would you take him gently... or claim him like Kon did?"

Surret cried and threw his head back, arching off the cot as he came hard—a strangled shout tearing from his throat. Rope after rope of thick seed splattered across Maleek’s knuckles and the coarse wool beneath him, hips bucking wildly into that restraining hand. Maleek held him firmly through the convulsions, thumb grinding relentlessly against Surret’s oversensitive tip until the prince sobbed, collapsing back onto the damp bed. "Just like Mowgli," Maleek breathed, lifting his glistening fingers to the lamplight. "Undone by beasts."

Maleek studied his palm, still glistening with the prince’s spilled seed. Slowly, deliberately, he brought his hand to his lips. His tongue rasped thickly over calloused skin, lapping at the viscous streaks—first the thick droplets clinging to his knuckles, then the pearly trails woven between his fingers. His eyes locked onto Surret’s dazed expression as he licked up all the boy's fresh cum. Then he leaned over the trembling prince, cradling Surret’s sweat-damp face. His thumb brushed the boy’s slack lower lip before pressing their mouths together—gentle as falling ash. Surret whimpered weakly as Maleek’s tongue pushed past his teeth, thick and tasting of salt and sour wine. It slid heavily over Surret’s own tongue, coating it with the bitter tang of his essence. The prince’s moan vibrated against Maleek’s mouth as he surrendered to the invasion.

Maleek broke the kiss with a wet sound. His fingers tightened in Surret’s hair, pulling hard enough to sting. "This night is our secret, Prince Surret" he whispered against the prince’s swollen lips, his voice low and commanding. He pressed his thumb hard against Surret’s chin, forcing him to meet his hunter’s gaze. "Your tears," he murmured, wiping one away with a rough fingertip, "your cries... the way you spilled untouched like a wild thing." His knuckles drifted downward, brushing Surret’s throat. "No one will know the Sultan’s only son begged for a hunter’s touch." Maleek’s lips ghosted over Surret’s damp temple. "Or how prettily he came."

Surret shuddered, curling inward as Maleek rolled off the bed. The hunter moved with silent precision, gathering the prince’s discarded silk robe from the tent floor. He unfolded it, holding it open without pity. The prince flinched as rough hands guided his arms through the sleeves, the cool silk sliding over his flushed skin. "Stand," Maleek commanded, tying the sash snug at Surret’s waist. Surret obeyed, weak-kneed and trembling. The hunter circled him then, adjusting the robe’s drape, smoothing a crease at his shoulder. His touch lingered possessively on Surret’s nape.

Maleek dropped to one knee before the prince, head bowed. "Thank you, Highness," he murmured, palm pressed flat against Surret’s silk-clad thigh. "For allowing this unworthy servant to pleasure his future Sultan." His thumb traced damp silk where Surret still leaked remnants of release. Surret stared down at the hunter’s scarred neck, the subservient pose jarring against the brutal intimacy moments before. Maleek lifted his gaze—fierce, unrepentant. "Your trust humbles me."

"Tomorrow," Surret breathed, fingers trembling as they settled on Maleek’s shoulder. "At the Naming Celebration... when I claim that jungle boy..." His grip tightened, knuckles whitening against the hunter’s rough tunic. "You'll assist me." Maleek’s brow furrowed—a flicker of confusion—until Surret leaned close, his lips brushing the hunter’s ear. "When I punish him," the prince whispered, voice thick with promise, "I want him bound for all to see. Bound stretched like you described. And you’ll hold him open while I take what Kon stole." Maleek’s breath hitched—sharp, audible—as Surret’s other hand slid down to cup the hunter’s jaw, forcing their eyes to meet.

"But before me, I want his punishment to begin with Bagheera. Understand?"

Maleek's throat tightened. He felt the prince's gaze digging into his soul—a scalpel peeling back layers of duty and desire.

"The cat first?" Maleek rasped, withdrawing his hand from Surret's thigh. The prince's command echoed: Bagheera. The panther who'd roared through the jungle boy's first rape. That caged fury. Maleek pictured Mowgli—bleeding, monkey-scented—forced against those iron bars. Bagheera's claws would tear through tender flesh like parchment. He swallowed hard. "You'd feed your prize to the beast before claiming him?"

Surret leaned down, his lips brushing Maleek's scarred temple. "Not feed," he breathed, hot and wet. "Prepare." His fingers tangled in Maleek's hair, pulling tight. "I want Bagheera to mount him again. Right there in the Banquet Hall. Where everyone can watch." Maleek felt Surret tremble—not fear, but hunger. "Let the cat rip that boy's hole again," the prince whispered harshly. "Let him pump his seed deep into Mowgli's guts. I want to see." His grip tightened, forcing Maleek's gaze upward. "Then, when the cat's finished with him—when he's dripping and begging for death—I'll have the cat locked." Surret's eyes gleamed like obsidian in lamplight. "And we will finish him. Alone. When every noble guest has gone."

Maleek froze—a hunting dog scenting madness. Even the lantern's flicker seemed to hesitate. He pictured it: Mowgli splayed helpless under Bagheera's claws , nobles gasping behind jeweled fingers. The boy's torn body arching against black fur. The cat's savage thrusts splitting him wider. Royalty watching—silent, complicit. He remembered Bagheera's roars earlier—not fury, but ecstasy. The panther would fuck him, not kill him. Unless... Maleek's gaze dropped to Surret's silk-swathed thigh. "Bagheera hates humans," he rasped cautiously. "But he hates Mowgli the most."

Maleek rose slowly, eyes gleaming like polished flint. "Already planned," he murmured, calloused fingers brushing the prince's sash.

"I will make you very satisfied, my Prince. His thumb traced Surret's lower lip—still swollen from their kiss—before pressing inward until the prince's lips parted. A slow smile curled his lips as he pressed his touch. "Bagheera's chains will be just long enough to mount him, but I will assure that he not kill him. And the boy..." His fingers drifted down to Surret's collarbone. "...will be oiled. Scented with musk. Spread and waiting like a bitch in heat."

Instinctively, Surret leaned forward and threw his arms around the man's neck, closing his eyes as they kissed again—hungrier this time, teeth scraping, tongues clashing with the taste of salt and desperation. Maleek's hands slid down to grip Surret's hips, dragging him flush against his body as the prince whimpered into his mouth. The hunter could feel the boy trembling against him, still oversensitive from his earlier release, yet arching closer like a moth drawn to flame.

"Perhaps, my Prince," Maleek murmured against Surret's swollen lips, his thumbs circling the boy's hipbones possessively, "one day it will be your humble servant who is invited to mate you." Surret shuddered violently at the words, his fingers tightening in Maleek's hair as the hunter's mouth trailed down his throat. "When you're Sultan," Maleek continued between wet bites along the boy's collarbone, "and I'm your royal huntsman..." His teeth grazed the delicate skin where neck met shoulder, making Surret gasp. "...you'll summon me to your chambers after feasts..." A rough hand slid down to cup Surret's ass through the silk robe. "...and I'll spread you open like I did that jungle boy..."

Surret's eyes sprang wide open; "Silly you! We will not need to wait until I am Sultan, brave hunter," chuckled the boy as he turned to leave, deliberately dragging his silk-clad erection against Maleek's thigh. His fingers lingered on the hunter's scarred cheek—a lover's caress one moment, a ruler's dismissal the next. "Tomorrow night, after Bagheera has broken Mowgli for the court..." Surret smiled—slow, cruel—as he stepped back into shadow. "And I have mounted him like he needs, ...you'll kneel at my bedside instead of before my throne." The silken tunic fluttered open with his exit, carrying his final whisper: "Bring your hunting knife."

Chapter Text

Desire

The prince had left as quietly as he arrived that night, and Maleek closed the bolt on the door of his room. He put out the lanterns and candle by his bed side and lay down on his bed. He chuckled as felt the wetness of the Prince's spend on the blanket and resolved to wash it later. But for now, he only wanted to focus on getting some sleep before tomorrow's events. As he closed his eyes, his throbbing cock and undying imagination kept his awake, as he stared blankly into the darkness.
He gulped hard as he slowly pushed his sleeping pants down, his shaking hand now wrapped around his throbbing cock. How could he sleep?

His imagination went over the anticipated formalities of tomorrow's Naming Ceremony; of the food and wine, the speaches and cheers, though more vivid than anything he could see Mowgli, that enticing jungle-boy splayed out on that frame as Bagheera mounted the boy yet again, only now in a civilized space, all eyes focused on the spectacle like a forbidden theatrical presentation. His grip tightened around himself as he slid his legs apart, feeling a tumult begin in his groin.

How beautiful is Mowgli. He pined for that jungle-boy now. He vividly remembered the small brown body the long raven hair framing a face as pretty as the prettiest girl, those long dangle legs that were so soft and tender. The young body, lean and smooth with as yet undefined muscles but with curves as shapely as to drive anyone seeing him into desire.

The hunter's cock was fully erect now, the heat radiating into his sweaty palms as he gently paced himself, enjoying such pleasant memories. He remembered the small cries and pleadings in broken words of a language he barely used, long forgotten since he was most probably abandoned as a small youngster in the jungle. Mowgly grunted and howled and growled, and hummed when he was happy. Words were not a part of his life any longer.

How many animals had cared for the orphaned boy, had taught him of survival, of hunting and foraging and climbing and hiding? How many had carried and cared for him when he was hurt or frightened? How many had touched him in curiosity and marveled at the softness of his smooth and fur-less flesh? How many had bed with him...

Maleek stirred more as he remembered kneeling between those young, opened legs as the boy hung invitingly from the four bondage posts in the hunting camp, stretched and bound spread-eagle, unable to see the man behind caressing his small splayed body, skin wet from the jungle mist and heat, and only able to gaze down at the muddy ground three feet below his suspended form.

And then, memories of searing pleasure as he sunk his cock into that tight little asshole. By the gods how warm and soft it felt inside Mowgli's body as his intestines wrapped and squeezed his cock as he fucked into that kid...

He could almost see Mowgli in the darkness, as if he stood in the room next to him. How pretty and innocent, yet how tested and cunning at the same time. Such a feral child, a wild boy, raw and untamed. So different than Prince Surret, he noted. That one, also so very pretty and young, and unspoiled in most ways, was still untouched. He was a temptress in a boy's body. His loins stirred anew as he pictured the young prince in his silk robes, fabric so fine and thin it was virtually transparent, watching with fixed eyes as the young teenager strolled silently across his bedroom floor, fingers delicately holding the hem of his short tunic. How his graceful,slim figure was easily revealed in the sheer fabric that did nothing but enhance his beauty.

He imagined the coming night.... oh such a dangerous night indeed. The night he would have both boys under his eye, under his guidance, under his control. He could see the bound, naked Mowgli being touched by the young prince. He would guide the inexperienced boy-prince in ways that would arouse and unleash unknown passions in him. He would edge and drive him to abandoned restrictive royal form and manner, to push him to allow his young body break free and have it's way with his new possession, Mowgli. Just a little bit older than Mowgli, and so desirous of him. Surret wanted Mowgli, the man knew, but the young prince did not know how he wanted Mowgli. He did not understand the blossoming urges of sex yet, as he spoke of paining Mowgli, of torturing him and defiling him. Yet when images of the jungle-boy being used and fucked were spoken of secretly in his ear, the young prince became as aroused as a common letch. And how easily the boy could be taken, Maleek knew.

The man sighed aloud as he paused and composed himself.

His hand continued to grip and gently stroke his hard erection, pre-cum dribbling freely down and lubricating his hand. But he would not allow himself release and relief; that would be saved for the morrow. So he squeezed his eyes tightly and concentrated on his plan, on how he knew Surret would take more time and care in deflowering. Even the son of a Sultan, a boy of Royalty and power and culture, Maleek knew that under all of that, he was still a teenage boy with the needs and desires of any other, and perhaps even more, given his status and ability to have what he wanted. Yes Surret, like Mowgli, could be taken down, taken over, and finally used. His hole would welcome the hunter's cock more freely and eagerly than Mowgli because he would want it, not because it was forced into him. So then, the style of the hunt would be different. It would be a strategy of careful manipulation of the boy (whose hormones were near off the charts already) to drive him to beg, to demand, his hole be filled with the hunter's cock.

Maleek's imagination began to take him in deeper than he wanted, and he grew powerless to reign it in. His body would demand he spill his seed even though his mind demanded he not. But images of untamed Mowgli, and of the royal prince, flooded his mind's eye. Mowgli he had seen naked, he had opened the passageway into the boy's inner life. He had triumphed over him and taken what he needed from him. The little boy provided him immense pleasures and gratification, as well as wealth. And he looked forward to a few more opportunities to use the jungle-boy's little body again, which made his head go back and a soft moan escape his throat.

And then his thoughts fell how Surret is different; He never lived in a jungle, or caught his own food, or was raped. He was delicate. His home was of marble and alabaster, not trees and vines. His clothes are of silk, fine as dragonfly wings. His body is clean and washed, rubbed with the finest of oils. He was raised with comfort, power and privilege. He never feared starvation, or predators, or the cruelty of beasts. His hands never bled from thorns or his legs bitten by bugs. He had tutors for language, history, music—not raised on instincts for survival. He knew courtly manners, not the law of the jungle. Where Mowgli was wild, Surret was refined, yet both possessed unspeakable beauty that the man so desired.

And both were vulnerable. Mowgli in his captivity, and Surret in his growing desires. Maleek imagined the night to come, and how Surret might surrender. How the boy would allow himself to be undressed and gazed upon. How he would ultimately be touched, and ultimately melt.

Maalik could see the prince in his mind's eye; sprawled out on silk pillows, knees drawn up and spread apart as Maleek knelt between them, slick fingers working him open—not cruelly, not like Mowgli had been taken—but slow, coaxing, until the boy's breath hitched and his back arched. Until he begged for more.

How he would look in Maleek's eyes with unknown fear but desire. To court danger and trust.

The hunter groaned as his fingers tightened around his cock—imagining now the prince’s delicate wrists pinned above his head as Maleek leaned over the boy, feeling the thunder of his heartbeat reverberate through the bed itself. Of Surret's lips from words he could not even utter, of his own lips lowering down to meet them.

His mind spun deeper—to Mowgli’s broken whimpers as the prince took him for the first time, watching Surret’s silk robe slide off his shoulders while he mounted the jungle boy, their bodies glistening with sweat and oil under flickering torchlight. The way the prince’s untested hips would stutter before finding their rhythm, before realizing just how deep he could claim the feral child beneath him.

Then, as clear as the moon in the night, Maleek heard only the phantom cries of both boys—Surret’s breathless moans as he lost himself in Mowgli’s heat, and Mowgli’s choked sobs as he was defiled by royalty. His hand moved faster, slick with need, imagining the moment Surret would turn to him afterward—eyes wide with revelation—and whisper, "Now do me."

Chapter Text

The Sultan sat at the head table flanked by the queen and his son. Resplendent in cloth-of-gold robes embroidered with rubies that caught the torchlight like drops of blood, the Sultan's turban bore his famed emerald the size of a child's fist. Beside him, Prince Surret wore sheer crimson silk that clung to his freshly scrubbed skin, the delicate fabric belted with a girdle of interlocking gold monkey heads—a gift from Maleek that morning. The hunter himself sat at Surret's right hand in uncharacteristic finery: a black leather tunic laced tight across his chest, the collar high enough to hide the prince's bite marks he so hoped would come this night. Uncles also sat at the Dias, their jeweled daggers and swollen purses marking them as men who'd wagered heavily on tonight's entertainment, while guests in tables along the stone walls drank spiced wine from cups of silver and copper.

The air smelled thick of roasting meats and honeyed almonds, of saffron rice steaming in great brass vessels and the heady musk of opium pipes passed discreetly beneath tables. Servants wove through the hall with platters of spiced lamb and fig-stuffed quail, their bare feet silent on the carpets as nobles cheered the Sultan's speech praising his son's "appetite for conquest." Maleek's fingers tightened around his wine cup as Surret leaned forward, his silk robe gaping to reveal the golden brown, succulent flesh Maleek so lusted for.

Surret leaned toward his father, whispering something about something as his eyes darted furtively over to Maleek. The Sultan, catching his son’s glance, also leaned forward to study the hunter with dark amusement, his jeweled fingers drumming the tablecloth. Maleek kept his gaze locked on his wine cup, though he felt the weight of both royal stares like brands against his skin. A single drop of sweat traced its way down his temple, disappearing into the high collar of his leather tunic.

Maleek worried that the secret would leak, but Surret just looked over with a boyish smile and nodded "it's OK". The prince’s lips curled in a private smirk—one Maleek recognized from last night’s whispered confessions of Mowgli’s fate. Maleek exhaled sharply through his nose, gripping his knees tightly beneath the table. He must remain calm and appear relaxed now, and prepared himself to make a presentation of his captive exotics. But his mind was a fog and his nerves a wreck and voices turned into noise as he struggled to focus. Then noticing that the Sultan had been speaking (and a slightly worried face on the prince looking at him), he realized that it was time to make the introduction of gifts.

The Great Hall doors groaned open to the rhythmic beat of a single drum—a deep, primal thud that silenced the murmuring crowd. Banner bearers marched forward first, their silk standards embroidered with golden monkeys and jungle vines rippling as they formed a path. Maleek rose smoothly from his seat, his hunter’s grace belying the tension in his shoulders. "Great Sultan," he began, his voice carrying across the hall with practiced ease, "your humble servant returns from the wilds with treasures befitting your son’s Naming Day." His gaze flicked briefly to Surret’s flushed face before continuing. "Behold the marvels no other hunter has captured alive." Through the parted doors, handlers dragged in iron-wheeled cages—each containing thrashing, shrieking beasts. A striped hyena snapped at the bars, flecks of foam spraying from its muzzle. Next came a pair of young tigers, their amber eyes reflecting torchlight as they paced the cramped confines. Then, to gasps from the nobles, a massive python coiled around its handler’s torso, its scaled body thick as a man’s thigh. Maleek’s scarred hand gestured toward the last covered cage, his fingers twitching slightly.

Maleek stepped into the procession and took from one bearer an elaborate carved box of Sandalwood. The polished wood gleamed under the torchlight, its intricate patterns telling stories of jungle hunts and serpent gods. He turned and returned to the dais, laying the box ceremoniously before the prince. The hinges creaked faintly as he lifted the lid, revealing a coiled length of iridescent scales with alternating rings of yellow and red along the length of its brown body, shimmering like oil on water. "This," Maleek murmured, his voice dropping to a whisper that forced Surret to lean in, "is among the rarest items from my own collection, taken from Celon’s deepest marshes." The snake’s tongue flicked out, tasting the prince’s scent as Maleek explained its purpose. "A ‘Bandit Snake,’ also called a ‘Wedding Snake’ by those who train them—used by hunters to enter viper and python burrows unseen. It devours their eggs and young, leaving no trace." His fingers hovered above the serpent’s triangular head. "More valuable than rubies in the right hands, and unknown in all India." Surret’s breath hitched as the creature uncoiled toward him, its body sinuous as a lover’s touch against the silk-lined box.

"It's beautiful, and dangerous!", the boy spoke, his eyes wild in wonderment.

“Indeed so, your Highness”, Maleek replied, and bowing he added, “I hope it may be of use to you in some way.”

Maleek then turned and made a gesture as another drum sounded, and as both drums beat a steady cadence, Maleek announced the presentation of the most feared animal of the wild jungles. Bagheera was led in, a leather muzzle over his powerful maw and an iron collar around his neck, guided by 4 soldiers holding sturdy chains. The other animals were led out as the panther stood (slightly drugged) in the center of the room. The beast's golden eyes burned with hatred, its sleek black fur rippling with suppressed fury. Surret's breath caught—this was no trained circus cat, but a jungle-born killer barely contained by chains.

Surret's eyes exploded at the sight; hot arousal hit him like a monsoon wind—hot, sudden, unstoppable. His silk robe clung to suddenly damp skin as he stared at the panther's powerful haunches, the thick forelegs corded with muscle that could rip a man apart. The beast's broad chest rose and fell with deep breaths, each exhale carrying the musk of wild places that made Surret's nostrils flare. His gaze traced the panther's belly, where black fur gave way to softer, lighter strands, and lower—to the pink sheath barely visible between its legs. His pulse pounded as he imagined it: that hidden flesh emerging, penetrating Mowgli's delicate body, so much more powerful and primal than any other creature. His fingers twitched against his thighs, nails digging into silk. The way Bagheera's tail lashed—like a lover's impatient sigh—sent heat pooling low in his belly. He pictured the panther mounting Mowgli, those claws sinking into tender brown flesh as its hips pistoned forward. Would it bite the boy's neck like mating cats did? Would its cock be barbed like a tomcat's, tearing the jungle boy open with every thrust? Surret's own erection throbbed at the thought, straining against his girdle of golden monkeys. Sweat beaded on his upper lip as he imagined Mowgli's screams, the way his small body would convulse around the beast's invading length. His breaths came quicker now, shallow little gasps that made his chest ache. The panther's growl—deep, vibrating—seemed to resonate in his own bones, and he had to press his thighs together to stifle the urge to grind against his fists. That sound, that terrible beautiful sound, was the rumble of conquest, of absolute domination. His mouth watered at the thought of Mowgli's tears mixing with Bagheera's saliva as the cat claimed him before the court. His fingers crept toward his own groin, stopping just short—too many watching eyes—but the ache remained, sharp and insistent. The panther's scent reached him again—musky, feral—and Surret's vision nearly whited out with want.

Surret, his fingers shaking, turned to his father and spoke into his ear. His lips brushed the Sultan's jeweled ear cuff as he whispered urgent, feverish words—begging, demanding, promising. The Sultan's brows lifted, then drew together as he studied his son's flushed face, the way the boy trembled like an arrow nocked too tight. He glanced at the panther, then back to Surret's wild eyes, and something darkly amused curled his lips. With a slow, regal gesture, the Sultan beckoned Maleek forward as the guests stared in awful fascination. The hunter approached the dais, his leather boots silent on the carpets, his scarred hand resting on the hilt of his dagger. He knelt before the Sultan, but his eyes flicked up to meet Surret's—a silent question burning in their depths. The prince licked his lips, his chest heaving, and Maleek's nostrils flared as if catching the boy's scent. The Sultan's rings gleamed as he waved a hand toward Bagheera. "My son," he announced, voice dripping with honeyed malice, "wishes to see his next gift properly introduced to our honored guest." A murmur rippled through the nobles—some shocked, some titillated—as the Sultan's grin widened.

The soldiers brought the panther to a side wall and locked the chains to heavy iron rings set into the wall. The beast snarled, pulling against its bonds as the iron collar dug into its thick neck fur. Torchlight caught the saliva stringing from its fangs as it whipped its head toward the scent of fear—human fear, close and ripe. Then as everyone quieted down, A soldier entered the Great Hall. The Sultan motioned to him and the doors opened.

Mowgli was escorted in, flanked by two guards, each holding a chain attached to golden wrist cuffs on the boy's hands. The boy looked beautiful, nothing that the prince had expected to see. His long hair was brushed and flowed in gentle waves to his tunic-clad shoulders. The tunic was made of the finest silk, sheer enough to reveal the soft contours of his young body beneath—and barely long enough to cover his ass, the hem fluttering just above the curve of his thighs. A loose golden chain hung low around his waist as a belt, glinting against his honey-brown skin, the links dipping suggestively below his navel. Beneath the translucent silk, the outline of a small cotton loincloth was visible, clinging snugly between his legs, its thin fabric doing little to conceal the boy's shape. His bare feet padded silently across the cold stone floor, delicate ankles marked faintly by old scars.
The boy was much more doscile than yesterday as well, obviously drugged, as he has guided forward. The guards holding his chains would alternately pull on them, swaying the boy side to side as if he were almost dancing. Slowly the three made their way to the center of the room as the crowd began to murmur and point.

The Sultan looked surprised at the transformation and glanced with approval to Maleek. Maleek nodded gracefully in return and then whispered to Surret (who looked even more astonished), "I thought he should look a bit more attractive for you, Highness.” The prince's breath hitched as he clutched at the carved arms of his chair, his knuckles whitening—not in horror, but in barely restrained hunger.

Suddenly Bagheera let out a tremendous growl that startled them all, including Mowgli. The boy jerked away at the chains but the guards pulled them tighter, stretching Mowgli's arms outward and holding him in place. Mowgli had recognized the panther's voice and, even though he had been sedated, fear and terror overtook him as he struggled to escape.

Then the Sultan rose and spoke. He explained to the gathering of who this child was, and how Maleek had captured him as a gift to the prince on this Naming Day.

As the Sultan went on and on, Surret's eyes burned into Mowgli's trembling form—the way the golden chain belt dipped to frame the boy's hips, how the silk tunic clung to his sweat-dampened skin under the torchlight. Each panicked jerk against the guards' chains made the sheer fabric ripple, revealing flashes of smooth thigh, the tempting curve where ass met leg. His breath came faster as he imagined Bagheera's claws shredding that flimsy silk away, black fur pressed against golden-brown skin.
The prince's fingers dug into his own thighs, arousal coiling tight as he studied Mowgli's parted lips—would they whimper or scream when the panther mounted him? Every detail intoxicated him: the boy's fluttering pulse at his throat, the way his bare toes curled against the stone floor in instinctive retreat. Surret's gaze dropped lower, to where the thin cotton loincloth clung to Mowgli's small bulge—would it darken with fear when Bagheera's scent flooded his nostrils? His own cock twitched at the thought of the panther's massive head nuzzling there, hot breath steaming through the fabric before teeth tore it away. He swallowed hard, mouth watering as he visualized the moment the beast's barbed flesh would breach Mowgli—how that tiny body would arch, whether tears would streak his cheeks or if the drugs would leave him pliant and dazed. The prince bit his lip until copper bloomed on his tongue, hips pressing subtly into his jeweled girdle as he imagined the wet sounds of penetration, the way Mowgli's hole would struggle to accommodate such girth. His vision tunneled until only the boy existed: the sheen of sweat on his collarbones, the vulnerable dip of his spine as the guards forced him to kneel—waiting, exposed, for the panther's claim.

Then everything stopped as Surret's thoughts were stopped cold—a sudden screech of iron wheels across stone as a massive wooden platform with two towering posts at each end was rolled into the hall by six sweating slaves. The structure dominated the space, its oiled beams glistening sinisterly under torchlight, crude iron rings bolted at intervals along the posts. Chains dangled from them, ending in manacles lined with what looked like soft leather—a mockery of mercy. Surret's breath caught as he recognized the apparatus from whispered rumors—the Sultan's "Bridal Stand," used for breaking wild stallions...and rebellious slaves. His gaze snapped to Mowgli just as the boy's drugged haze seemed to crack, dark eyes widening with primal understanding. The prince's own arousal spiked violently at the realization—they wouldn't just feed him to Bagheera. They'd gift-wrap him first.

The Sultan motioned Maleek to go down and help prepare Mowgli. The hunter descended the dais steps with panther-like grace, pausing only to scoop up a coiled whip from a waiting servant's hands. Maleek invited Surret then, turning with a bow so deep it mocked courtesy, one scarred hand outstretched toward the prince. Surret who arose on shaky legs due to excitement—his crimson silk robe clinging to thighs damp with sweat—nearly stumbled as he joined Maleek. Together they approached Mowgli, whose chained arms were still held tightly by stone-faced guards. The boy's breathing hitched as Maleek circled behind him, the hunter's fingers trailing possessively down the silk-clad spine while Surret faced him, trembling as he reached to undo the golden belt with hands that shook too much to manage the clasp.

“Perhaps we should affix him first, Highness”, Maleek spoke from behind Mowhli, his hands holding the boy's shoulders firmly.

Surret nods and gulps as he looks into Mowgli's eyes. With a tug, the guards lead Mowgli to the platform and ascend the few steps up. The boy stumbles slightly, his drugged limbs sluggish, but the guards jerk him upright by his chains, their hands rough against his tiny arms. Torchlight flickers across Mowgli's terrified face as they position him between the towering posts, his small frame dwarfed by the massive structure.

A young slave of the Sultan soon accompanies them, his delicate hands bearing an ornate silver tray. Upon it rests a gleaming collar—thin, delicate, and engraved with sinuous jungle vines curling around Surret's royal sigil. The prince's breath hitches as he lifts the cold metal, his fingers brushing against the velvet-lined interior. Mowgli whimpers as Surret presses the collar against his throat, the boy's pulse fluttering wildly against the prince's fingertips. The clasp snaps shut with a finality that makes Surret's skin prickle—the silver glinting against Mowgli's sweat-slicked brown skin like a brand of possession.

Mowgli begins to tremble—not the drugged languor from before, but a violent, full-bodied shudder that makes his chains chime softly. His dark eyes dart across the hall, wide with animal terror, taking in the leering nobles, the Sultan's cold amusement, the guards' indifferent grips on his arms. The torchlight catches every glint of saliva on his parted lips, every twitch of his exposed throat above the collar. He feels monstrously alone—no jungle vines to hide in, no wolf-pack to howl for him, just this sea of hungry eyes undressing him layer by layer. Then Surret steps closer, the prince's jeweled slippers whispering against the wood as he crowds into Mowgli's space. His hands held at his own belt, fingers brushing the embroidered monkeys along its length before pressing flush against Mowgli's trembling torso. Their eyes meet—Surret's feverish with want, Mowgli's glassy with dread—as the prince carefully unclasps the golden belt from the boy's waist. The chain slithers free with a sound like falling coins, leaving Mowgli's hips bare beneath the sheer silk tunic.

"You belong to me now, Mowgli," the prince murmurs, his breath hot against the boy's ear. Maleek's hands tighten on Mowgli's shoulders from behind, fingers digging into the silk-covered flesh with merciless pressure. The hunter's calloused thumbs trace deliberate circles against the boy's shoulder blades—a mockery of comfort—as Surret leans in to bite gently at Mowgli's collarbone. The boy jerks instinctively, but Maleek holds him still, forcing him to endure the prince's lips trailing down his throat. Surret exhales shakily against Mowgli's damp skin, inhaling the mingled scents of fear and jungle herbs from whatever oils Maleek had slicked over him earlier. He presses closer still, until their hips align—Surret's hardness evident against Mowgli's softness—and the sheer silk between them does nothing to disguise their difference in size, in power.

Maleek slides the thin fabric from Mowgli's shoulders with a slow, deliberate motion, letting the silk pool at the boy's wrists where the chains still dangle. Surret takes out his dagger—its curved blade flashing like a crescent moon—and cuts the fine garment free of Mowgli's body, the fabric falling away with a whisper. The boy stands trembling now as Maleek nods to Surret and then the guards, one hand lingering briefly on Mowgli's bare hip before all step away, leaving space for everyone to view Mowgli standing alone.

Unsurprisingly, Mowgli tries to escape—his small body twisting violently against the chains, his muscles straining with desperate strength. The golden cuffs bite into his wrists as he thrashes, his toes curling against the wooden platform. His thin loincloth—barely covering his small cock—rides up with each jerking movement, revealing glimpses of smooth brown skin beneath. The torchlight casts flickering shadows across his glistening body, damp with sweat and fear, making him appear almost sculpted from living amber. His breath comes in ragged gasps as he pulls against his restraints, the chains clinking softly with each futile movement—his nipples hardening in the cool air, his stomach drawn in and quivering with exertion. The sight of his body—wild and trapped—sends a ripple of murmurs through the assembled nobles, their eyes drinking in every detail of his humiliation.

As the atmosphere thickens, Surret turns to his father, his lips parted with barely contained anticipation. The Sultan observes his son’s trembling hands, the feverish gleam in his eyes, and with slow deliberation, nods his approval. Surret’s breath hitches as he pivots toward Maleek, his voice dropping to a husky whisper: "Can we stretch him now?" The hunter’s mouth curls into a cruel smirk as he gestures to the guards flanking the platform. They move in unison, their hands rough as they seize Mowgli’s wrists. Others loop the chains through the iron rings at each post top and pull downward, drawing Mowgli's arms upward and outward.

The boy’s bare feet leave the wood as his body lifts slightly, his toes scrabbling for purchase. The chains tighten, forcing his spine to arch impossibly—his ribs protruding beneath sweat-slicked skin, his breath reduced to shallow gasps. The guards pull harder, and Mowgli chokes out a sob as his shoulders strain at the sockets. Maleek steps forward, running calloused fingers down the boy’s exposed flank, lingering at the dip of his waist. "Remarkable flexibility," he muses, pressing his thumb into the hollow where Mowgli’s hipbone juts sharply. "The jungle made him supple."

Surret looked on with eager excitement and asks Maleek, "What about his legs, hunter?" His fingers twitch at his sides, itching to touch the trembling boy suspended like some exotic fruit waiting to be plucked. Maleek smiles, his voice a purr as he circles Mowgli like a panther assessing prey. "Patience, Highness," he murmurs, trailing the coiled whip along the inside of Mowgli’s thigh. "The petals must be peeled one by one." The boy flinches violently, a whimper escaping his bitten lips as the leather traces upward—teasing, threatening.

One guard takes a length of silk rope laying coiled beside the pole, its crimson strands woven through with golden threads. He loops it around Mowgli’s slender ankle, pulling until the boy’s leg lifts sideways toward an iron ring embedded an the base of the post. The other guard mirrors the motion on the opposite side, their movements practiced, unhurried. Mowgli’s breath comes in ragged bursts now, his ribs flaring with each panicked inhale as his body forms a perfect X—arms stretched high, legs splayed wide, every inch of him exposed. The loincloth clings desperately to his modesty, but it’s already slipping, the fabric damp with sweat and trembling against his skin.

Maleek’s whip handle drifts lower, tracing the delicate arch of Mowgli’s foot before tapping the inside of his thigh. “Watch,” he murmurs to Surret, as the boy’s muscles twitch involuntarily at the contact. With a sharp yank from the guards, the ropes go taut—Mowgli’s legs wrench farther apart, tendons standing out in sharp relief along his inner thighs. A sound escapes him then, half-gasp, half-sob, as the stretch borders on unbearable. The prince leans in, fascinated by the way Mowgli’s toes curl and uncurl, the way his hips tilt forward helplessly, presenting what little remains of his dignity to the torchlight.

The Sultan stirred from his place of honor, his eyes fixed (like everyone else's) on the small brown boy stretched out on display in the center of the Great Hall. Surret stepped closer to look in wonderment at the boy. He had never imagined such a sight as this, let alone seen one. "Go ahead, Highness, touch him. He cant hurt you now, though I should advise you to avoid his mouth" he suggested with a chuckle.

Surret reached his hand out tentatively, fingers trembling slightly before making contact with the boy's collarbone. The prince's breath hitched as his fingertips met warm, sweat-slicked skin—softer than he'd imagined jungle flesh would feel. His touch trailed downward slowly, savoring each contour: the delicate dip between Mowgli's collarbones, the rapid flutter of his pulse at his throat, the way his Adam's apple bobbed when he swallowed nervously. Surret's palm flattened against the boy's sternum, feeling the frantic rabbit-quick beat of his heart beneath. His fingers splayed outward—one hand spanning nearly the entire width of Mowgli's narrow chest—as he explored the subtle ridges of ribs too prominent from malnutrition. The prince's thumb brushed a dusky nipple, fascinated when it hardened instantly beneath his touch despite the boy's obvious terror. Downward his hands slid, tracing the shallow valley between Mowgli's abdominal muscles—so different from the sculpted physiques of palace wrestlers—feeling the way the boy's stomach quivered with each panicked breath. His fingers hesitated as he looked up at Maleek, who merely nodded, as Surret's fingers slid lower to the waistband of the loincloth, then continued lower, gripping the sharp angles of Mowgli's hips where bone pressed taut against stretched skin. Surret's touch grew bolder as he palmed the boy's slender thighs, squeezing the dense muscle developed from years of tree-climbing and running—so unlike the soft, pampered limbs of harem boys. His fingers inched higher along the inner seams, where skin turned silkier, untouched by sun, and he delighted in the violent shudder that wracked Mowgli's body when his nails grazed that tender flesh. The prince's hands mapped every dip and plane with possessive intensity - the hollow behind the boy's knee, the delicate ankle bones circled by crimson rope, even the dirt-stained soles of his feet that had never known slippers until today. Each touch left Mowgli more visibly undone—his breathing ragged, his muscles twitching against restraints, his skin pebbling with gooseflesh despite the sweltering hall. Surret finally cupped the boy's face, forcing their eyes to meet as his thumb brushed Mowgli's lower lip—moist from where he'd bitten it in distress. "Perfect," he whispered, more to himself than to anyone else in the room.

Surret circled Mowgli slowly, his silk robes whispering against the wooden platform as he moved behind the suspended boy. The prince's breath warmed the nape of Mowgli's neck as he leaned in, fingers first combing through the boy's long, sweat-dampened hair—thicker and silkier than he'd expected from a jungle child. His hands slid downward with deliberate slowness, fingers tangling in black strands before gripping firmly at the roots, pulling Mowgli's head back to expose the vulnerable column of his throat from behind. Surret's lips brushed the shell of the boy's ear as he inhaled the mingled scents of fear and the floral oils that had been earlier massaged into his skin—citrus and something wilder underneath, like crushed leaves after rain. His palms flattened against Mowgli's shoulder blades, tracing the prominent bones that jutted like fledgling wings beneath taut skin, then downward along the knobs of his spine—each vertebra a tiny mountain range under Surret's questing fingers. The prince's touch grew bolder as he explored the dip of Mowgli's lower back, thumbs pressing into the dimples above his ass with enough force to make the boy whimper. His hands spanned the narrow waist almost completely, fingers nearly meeting over the boy's navel before sliding lower to grip the swell of his hips—so much sharper and bonier than the soft curves of palace dancers. Surret marveled at how his hands nearly encircled Mowgli's torso completely, how fragile the jungle child felt despite his feral reputation. His fingertips dipped beneath the waistband of the loincloth at the small of Mowgli's back, teasing at the divide between fabric and skin before dragging upward along the boy's ribs, making him squirm violently against his bonds. The prince's nails scored faint red lines down Mowgli's back, following the path of sweat droplets as they slid along the valley of his spine. He pressed his body flush against the boy from behind—his own robes doing nothing to disguise his erection—and let Mowgli feel every inch of his arousal against that trembling backside. Surret's lips found the juncture where neck met shoulder, teeth scraping lightly before sucking a bruise into the salty skin just below the sivle collar as his hands kneaded the tense muscles of Mowgli's ass through the thin fabric of the loincloth. The boy arched involuntarily at the sensation, a sound halfway between a gasp and a sob escaping his lips as Surret's fingers crept dangerously close to forbidden territories. The prince chuckled darkly against Mowgli's skin, hands finally stilling just shy of where the boy's thighs met his backside—leaving him trembling with anticipation of what might come next.

Maleek saw Surret shiver in arousal and stepped beside the prince to steady him, one scarred hand gripping the younger man's shoulder firmly. Surret looked up at the hunter with pupils blown wide, his lips parted around panting breaths as he whispered, "I want him like this tonight." His fingers tightened possessively on Mowgli's hips, nails digging crescents into the boy's golden-brown skin. Maleek's smirk deepened as he eyed the way Surret's knuckles whitened against Mowgli's flesh, how his whole body trembled with barely restrained desire.

Maleek's imagination flashed—Surret's silk robes tangled around his waist as he knelt behind Mowgli, the prince's cock buried to the hilt in that tight heat while Maleek himself gripped the boy's hair, forcing those trembling lips around his own thickness. He envisioned Surret's delicate fingers scrabbling at Mowgli's ribs for purchase as Maleek pistoned into the boy's mouth, the prince's moans mingling with Mowgli's choked gags. The hunter's trousers grew painfully tight at the thought of their sounds—Surret's breathy whimpers, Mowgli's wet splutters, the obscene slap of flesh against flesh echoing through his bedchamber.

Then Maleek spoke, addressing the Sultan, how he had planned to whip the boy for punishment, and asked if that was necessary. His voice carried the weight of feigned concern, though his fingers flexed around the coiled whip at his belt. "A dozen lashes would teach him obedience," Maleek murmured, eyes flickering toward Mowgli's exposed back—still marked faintly red from Surret's nails. "But such marks might diminish his... aesthetic value for tonight's festivities." The Sultan stroked his beard thoughtfully, gaze lingering on the way Mowgli's ribs fluttered with panicked breaths, how his suspended body quivered like a plucked bowstring.

The Sultan shifted his gaze to Surret, who stood frozen with one hand gripping Mowgli's hip possessively. "My son," the Sultan said, his voice low and indulgent, "the choice is yours. The jungle boy is your prize—do you wish him broken now, or..." His fingers flicked dismissively toward the silk-draped alcoves where oil lamps already burned. Surret's grip tightened convulsively on Mowgli's flesh, his breathing ragged as he stared at the sweat-slicked curve of the boy's spine. "No scars," Surret rasped finally, his free hand rising unconsciously to stroke the unmarked skin of Mowgli's flank. "Not yet." The Sultan smiled—a slow, serpentine thing—and nodded his head.

The Sultan raised a hand to address the assembled nobles, his voice carrying across the hushed hall. "The feast begins now—let any guest who wishes ascend to inspect this young curiosity." His eyes gleamed in the torchlight as he gestured toward Mowgli's suspended form. But Surret interjected bravely and with a boast of authority; "You may stroke his hair," he said, his fingers combing gently through the boy's tangled locks, "and feel the weave of his loincloth." His hand drifted lower, fingertips brushing the frayed edge of the fabric where it clung to Mowgli's thigh. "But remember—his skin is reserved for the prince's pleasure alone."

"And Bagheera's." Maleek chuckled, nodding toward the chained panther panting restlessly, its golden eyes fixed unblinkingly on Mowgli's trembling form.

Surret grinned, fingers tightening around the boy's hips as he leaned forward to whisper hotly against Mowgli's sweat-slicked shoulder. "Yes, that will be for entertainment, after dessert!" The prince's tongue traced the shell of the boy's ear, savoring the way Mowgli shuddered violently at the contact— and shuddered at the panther's growl vibrating through the marble floor.

Maleek smirked as he gripped Surret's elbow, guiding the prince backward off the platform with a courtly flourish. Their descent was slow, deliberate—the hunter's grip firm on the silk of Surret's sleeve while the prince's gaze remained locked on Mowgli's suspended form. Behind them, four guards hauled on thick ropes threaded through iron pulleys above, hoisting the boy even higher until his toes dangled a full foot above the wooden platform. The chains sang as they tightened, stretching Mowgli's limbs into an even more exaggerated X-shape that drew gasps from the assembled nobles. His loincloth—already loosened by Surret's explorations—fluttered dangerously, revealing flashes of tawny inner thigh whenever the torches gusted.

Then came the feast—a procession of servants bearing silver platters piled high with roasted pheasant still sizzling in its own juices, glistening dates stuffed with spiced lamb, and towers of saffron rice studded with jewel-like pomegranate seeds. The scent of cumin and caramelized onions mingled with the musk of sweat and fear as the servers wove between nobles who barely glanced at the food. As music began playing, guests speared chunks of quail with gold-tipped knives but chewed without tasting, eyes darting between bites to look at the living centerpiece in his anguishing beauty.

At an unseen signal, a dozen slaves emerged from the shadows, their bare feet whispering across marble as they maneuvered an enormous copper cauldron up the platform steps. Steam curled from its surface in thick, aromatic tendrils—the scent of marrow-rich goat broth and slow-cooked cardamom pods overwhelming even the perfumed nobles closest to the spectacle. The vessel's polished surface reflected Mowgli's dangling form upside-down as they positioned it directly beneath his spread legs. Heat radiated upward in visible waves, making the boy's skin prickle instantly with sweat as the first tendrils of steam licked at his inner thighs. His muscles tensed violently—the chains singing as he twisted—when the moist heat enveloped his most vulnerable areas. The slaves retreated quickly, leaving Mowgli's body to jerk and convulse above the bubbling cauldron, his loincloth growing damp and translucent from the rising vapors. Each involuntary twitch invited further scalding contact of steam—the occasional droplet splashing upward to kiss his skin red where it landed. Around the hall, nobles leaned forward unconsciously, fingers tightening around wine cups as they watched the interplay of golden torchlight on damp bronze skin, steam curling obscenely between trembling thighs.

Surret's breath came ragged through parted lips as he watched guests ascend the platform steps one by one. Each courtier paused before Mowgli—careful to honor the prince's command—their hands fluttering like nervous birds near the boy's damp hair and loincloth without ever quite breaching the boundaries. A vizier's jeweled fingers combed through the boy's sweat-slicked locks, pulling strands taut to watch them fall back against Mowgli's neck. An elderly woman traced the embroidered edge of his loincloth with a single gnarled fingertip, chuckling when the fabric shifted aside to reveal a hint of his hidden, wet skin. With each delicate violation, Surret's grip on his dagger hilt tightened until the rubies bit into his palm—his arousal spiking with possessive fury at their feather-light touches. The prince's vision tunneled when the Sultan's youngest wife ascended, her hennaed hands lifting Mowgli's chin to examine his face before casually palming the swell of his loincloth—her thumb pressing just enough to make the boy whimper. Surret's hips jerked forward unconsciously, silk robes tenting obscenely as he imagined those painted nails digging into Mowgli's thighs instead of merely grazing them. Every polite caress from the nobles felt like theft—each restrained touch stoking Surret's desire to mark what they could only whisper against.

The musicians' fingers slowed on their ouds and neys, the melody dissolving into disjointed notes that faded away gently. When the last platter of candied rose petals vanished and the heavy brass cauldron from below Mowgli disappeared through the arched doorways, a single servant struck a bronze gong—its vibration shuddering through the bones of every guest still whispering near the dangling boy. The Sultan rose from his cushions in a ripple of embroidered silk, one hand raised with imperious stillness. Silence pooled outward from his gesture, swallowing the last murmurs until only Mowgli's choked breathing and the distant lap of fountain water remained. Maleek moved like shadow given form, his boots soundless as he crossed to where Bagheera strained against iron chains. The panther's muscles coiled beneath ink-black fur, golden eyes reflecting torchlight as they fixed unblinkingly on Mowgli's trembling form. Maleek's nod to Surret was barely perceptible—just the slightest tilt of his stubbled chin—before he turned the same gesture toward the Sultan. Some unspoken understanding passed between them as a lone drum began its heartbeat rhythm—slow at first, then deepening until the vibrations thrummed through the soles of every slippered foot in the hall.

Three slave boys emerged from behind the tapestries like ghosts given flesh—their identical almond eyes down-turned, their shaved heads gleaming with scented oil. They moved in eerie unison across the marble, bare feet whispering against stone as they ascended the platform steps with a copper basin between them. The eldest—no more than eighteen—set the basin at Mowgli's feet while the other two produced thick leather shoulder pads from the folds of their linen wraps. Without a word exchanged, they worked—one boy holding Mowgli's left arm by the wrist while another wedged the stiff leather beneath the straining tendon where collarbone met shoulder. The third slave pulled straps tight across the boy's chest with practiced efficiency, buckling them behind his back where the bondage frame kept his spine arched. Their fingers moved like spiders weaving—adjusting, tightening, ensuring the pads would bear weight without cutting off circulation. Mowgli's breath hitched as the final strap buckled into place, his sweat-slicked skin already chafing against the new restraint. The slave boys retreated as silently as they'd come, their empty copper basin left gleaming at the base of the frame like an offering.

Surret's fingers dug into the table as Maleek led Bagheera forward—the great panther's movements unnaturally sluggish from whatever herbs the hunters had mixed into its meat. Its golden eyes remained terrifyingly lucid despite the swaying gait, pupils contracting sharply whenever torchlight flickered across Mowgli's suspended form. Maleek guided the drugged beast with nothing but a loop of braided leather around its throat, his other hand resting casually on the hilt of his dagger. The panther's nostrils flared as they reached the platform steps—its massive head swinging toward Mowgli with predatory focus even as its limbs moved with dreamlike slowness. Surret watched, transfixed, as Bagheera's black lips peeled back from yellowed fangs in a silent snarl when it scented the boy's terror. Maleek murmured something low and guttural—a hunter's command—as he urged the panther upward step by trembling step. The beast's claws scraped against wood, leaving pale scars in the steps as it fought both the drug and the leash. At the platform's edge, Bagheera froze—its muscles quivering beneath glossy fur. Surret's mouth went dry at the sight—Bagheera's massive body led by the leash in circles around the waiting victim. Maleek paused as the beast stood directly in front of his familiar enemy (and victim). Eyes met as Mowgly turned his head to look away when the vat began nudging its muzzle between the boy's splayed legs, its wet nose leaving dark streaks on Mowgli's inner thighs as it sniffed upward with animal curiosity. The prince could see the exact moment Bagheera recognized its former charge—the way its ears flattened against its skull, the low growl vibrating through its chest as its tongue lashed out to taste the salt of Mowgli's fear.

The steady drumming continued as the panther began to slip its tongue through its loosely muzzled lips, the leather straps damp with its drool. That pink-black muscle emerged slowly at first—testing the boundaries of the restraint—then lashed out suddenly to stripe up Mowgli's inner thigh in one wet, scalding motion. The boy screamed, his body arching violently against the bondage frame as Bagheera's tongue found the raw skin where monkey bites and steam burns overlapped. The panther's nostrils flared at the taste, its rough tongue circling the weeping wounds with deliberate cruelty before plunging upward into more intimate territories. Mowgli's chains sang as he thrashed—his head whipping back hard enough to crack a rock—when Bagheera's tongue began lavishing his small cocklet under useless cloth. The nobles gasped as one when the panther's muzzle pressed fully inward, its tongue working in long, sinuous strokes between the splayed legs that mimicked the motions of penetration. Maleek smirked as he adjusted the leather muzzle, allowing Bagheera fuller access with his tongue but still unable to gnaw and bite.

Then—with terrifying suddenness—Bagheera reared onto his hind legs, his massive front paws resting on the leather pads on Mowgli's shoulders. It stood, eyes glaring like amber daggers into Mowgli's own, his head held firmly by two massive paws, as the boy squirmed to turn away in fear and horror.

They remembered each other, and Bagheera reminded Mowgli that he had unfinished business with this boy.

The panther's hot breath washed over Mowgli's face in moist waves, carrying the stench of rotting meat and blood—the same breath that had once warmed him during cold jungle nights when Bagheera still pretended to care. Surret shuddered beside his father, fingers digging into the silk cushions as Bagheera's claws flexed against the leather shoulder pads. "They remember each other," the prince whispered hoarsely, his voice trembling with sick fascination. The Sultan's lips curled into a cruel smile as he watched Bagheera's tongue swipe across Mowgli's trembling lips. "Yes," the Sultan murmured, fingers stroking his beard, "unfortunately for your Mowgli, they do."

Chapter Text

Maleek's grip loosened around the braided leather leash, his calloused fingers uncurling one by one. The hunter's knuckles brushed against Bagheera's damp fur as he stepped backward down the platform steps, his boots silent against the wood. The leash slithered free like a dying snake, coiling at Maleek's feet as he retreated to sit beside Surret's trembling form. The prince barely registered Maleek's return—his wide eyes fixed instead on his young gift.

Maleek's gaze flickered sideways to the Sultan's distracted profile before sliding lower. The hunter's right hand moved with predatory patience, fingertips skimming the carved edge of the banquet table before disappearing beneath its embroidered silk runner. His calloused palm pressed upward against Surret's inner thigh through the thin fabric of his robe—heat radiating through the damp silk where the prince had leaked arousal all evening. Maleek watched Surret's lips part—the prince's breath hitching as his knees fell slack against the cushions, thighs spreading wider beneath the table's concealment. The hunter's thumb traced lazy circles higher, feeling the prince's muscles twitch when Bagheera's growl rumbled through the hall. None of the nobles noticed—their attention riveted on Mowgli's suspended form—but Surret's fingers dug into Maleek's wrist beneath the silk, nails biting crescents into his skin as the panther's paws flexed against leather pads before them.

Maleek studied every flutter of Surret's lashes—the way his pupils dilated each time Bagheera's tongue lashed between Mowgli's thighs, the prince's own cock kicking against the hunter's palm in perfect synchronization with the boy's agonized cries. Maleek's fingers tightened their grip—feeling the prince's thigh muscles quiver like a bowstring pulled taut—as Bagheera reared onto hind legs above Mowgli. The hunter's nostrils flared when Surret's breath caught sharply—his lips trembling with some terrible mixture of horror and hunger—as Bagheera pinned the boy's head between massive paws. Maleek wanted to fuck that mouth. Wanted to press Surret's face into the cushions and split him open with his cock until the prince's knuckles turned white clutching the silk—until his moans drowned out Mowgli's screams—until the Sultan's own son dripped around him like honey from a spoon. The hunter exhaled slowly, squeezing Surret's thigh hard enough to bruise when Bagheera's tongue swiped across Mowgli's lips—his cock thickening against the prince's backside where their bodies pressed together beneath the table. He could feel Surret's heartbeat rabbiting against his palm—could smell the salt-sweet musk of the prince's sweat mingling with sandalwood oil—and Maleek's teeth ground together at the knowledge that every trembling gasp Surret stifled belonged to the spectacle before them, not to the hunter's hand creeping steadily higher beneath silk robes.

Surret's fingers spasmed around Maleek's wrist when Bagheera's jaws parted—yellowed fangs glinting as they closed around the frayed string of Mowgli's loincloth. The prince made a sound like a gutted hare when the panther jerked its head sideways—the fabric tearing with a wet snap that left the boy fully exposed. Maleek watched Surret's throat bob as Bagheera's tongue swiped upward—the tip catching on Mowgli's soft little cocklet—and felt the prince's erection twitch violently against his palm. Surret's lips formed silent curses—his hips rocking unconsciously into the hunter's touch—as Bagheera laved broad strokes from Mowgli's undeveloped balls to the delicate pink furl of his asshole. The hunter's thumb pressed against the damp silk covering Surret's leaking tip—smearing precum in slow circles—while Bagheera's rough tongue bullied its way past Mowgli's clenched muscles. Maleek leaned closer—his stubble scraping Surret's cheek—as the prince whimpered at the sight of Bagheera's tongue plunging knuckle-deep inside the boy. "You like watching him take it," Maleek murmured against the shell of Surret's ear—his fingers tightening around the prince's cock through silk—"like knowing he's being ruined right in front of you." Surret's breath hitched—his hips stuttering upward—when Maleek added pressure with each thrust of Bagheera's tongue between Mowgli's spread thighs.
The prince's vision tunneled—his nails digging crescents into Maleek's wrist—as Mowgli's spine arched violently off the bondage frame. Bagheera's tongue worked deeper with obscene wet sounds when each thrust stretched the boy's tiny hole wider. Surret watched, transfixed, as Mowgli's head snapped back—his scream cracking into a ragged sob—when Bagheera's tongue curled upward inside him. The boy's body convulsed—his undeveloped cocklet throbbing and pulsing—as the panther's rough tongue scraped over some hidden place that made his thighs tremble. Soon Mowgli was forced into a violent, dry orgasm.

Maleek's grip on Surret's cock tightened—his thumb pressing against the prince's slit—as Bagheera redoubled its efforts—the panther's muzzle grinding against Mowgli's ass while its tongue pistoned in and out with animal urgency. Bagheera continued to tongue-fuck the helpless ten year old as his two strong fore-paws held the boy's thighs against his maw when suddenly Mowgli let out a blood-curdling scream as his body shook and his stomach drew in impossibly tightly. His toes and fingers curled and he threw his head back in ecstasy and pain as he was forced into a severe juvenile dry orgasm.

Surret's breath came in shallow gasps—his hips jerking into Maleek's fist—as he watched Mowgli's ruin, his back bowed impossibly farther—another dry orgasm wrenched from him by the relentless assault of Bagheera's tongue. The prince moaned—low and broken—when Mowgli's body spasmed again and again uncontrollably—his limbs twitching like a gutted fish as the panther drank his silent screams.

Maleek gazed down the table to the Sultan who returned the glance, albeit briefly, as Maleek gave him a reassuring smile that the prince was fine...

...Fine until Bagheera's tongue plunged deeper still—the panther's growl vibrating through Mowgli's slight frame with each thrust. Surret came with a choked cry—his release soaking through silk robes—just as Bagheera withdrew its glistening tongue with a wet pop—leaving Mowgli's gaping hole glistening in the torchlight. The hunter wiped the sweat-dampened hair from Surret's temple—his fingers still working the prince's oversensitive cock through the mess—while Bagheera licked its chops with deliberate slowness.

Maleek leaned to whisper to the Prince, his lips brushing the shell of a trembling ear: "Perhaps it should stop now, Highness." His thumb pressed against the prince's fluttering pulse point—a hunter feeling his prey's heartbeat stutter. "Perhaps we should save Mowgli's hole undamaged for you?" The words dripped like honey laced with poison—Surret's hips jerking weakly at the implication—his bruised thighs trembling beneath Maleek's palm.

Surret nodded, his breath ragged as he slumped against Maleek's shoulder—his body still shuddering with aftershocks. His voice was wrecked when he whispered back: "Yes...tonight...I want him—" The prince's words dissolved into a moan as Maleek's fingers pressed deep into the marks he'd left along Surret's inner thigh. The hunter's gaze flicked upward—meeting the Sultan's amused stare across the hall—before inclining his head in a single, subtle dip of acknowledgment. Maleek's knuckles brushed the Sultan's signet ring as he passed a silk napkin to dab at Surret's flushed throat—his nod conveying what words couldn't: *Your son is spent*. The Sultan's lazy wave dismissed them both—his attention already returning to where Bagheera paced before Mowgli's limp form—but not before Maleek caught the flicker of approval in those hooded eyes.

Mowgli's head lolled forward—his sweat-streaked hair obscuring his face—as Bagheera circled the frame with slow, predatory steps. The panther's tongue rasped over its muzzle in a grotesque parody of grooming, its golden eyes never leaving the boy's shuddering thighs. Every so often Bagheera would pause—its wet nose nudging against Mowgli's welted skin—and inhale deeply; savoring the boy's fear, his exhaustion, *his defeat*. The nobles watched in rapt silence—their own appetites whetted—as Bagheera's rough tongue traced the outline of Mowgli's tiny cocklet still twitching against his belly. The prince's fingers dug into Maleek's wrist—his nails nearly drawing blood—when Bagheera's tongue suddenly curled *upward*, lapping at a bead of clear fluid pearling from Mowgli's slit.

Maleek smirked—his other hand sliding higher beneath the prince's robes—as Bagheera's muzzle nudged insistently between Mowgli's legs once more. The panther's tongue slithered over the boy's swollen entrance once more—probing, teasing—before plunging inward with wet precision. Surret's breath hitched—his thighs clamping around Maleek's wrist—as Mowgli's back arched *again*, his body spasming weakly in fresh torment. The nobles leaned forward—silks rustling—as Bagheera withdrew its tongue only to lap at Mowgli's weeping hole with slow, deliberate strokes. Soon the boy's thighs were trembling uncontrollably—his overstimulated hole clenching around nothing—while Bagheera drank his muffled whimpers like wine.

As Bagheera began licking up and down Mowgli's back, it was apparent to Maleek what the animal was preparing to do. He leaned to whisper into the prince's ear, “This is what animals do.” His fingers curled around Surret's cock beneath silk robes—his grip tightening in sync with Bagheera's tongue pressing against Mowgli's twitching hole. The panther's rough strokes left the boy's skin glistening—every rib visible through heaving breaths—as Maleek stroked Surret faster, their shared gaze locked on Mowgli's trembling form.

Bagheera's golden eyes burned with primal fury as he suddenly reared onto his hind legs—his massive paws landing with controlled weight on the leather-bound shoulder pads on Mowgli's tiny shoulders. The panther's breath came in hot, ragged gusts against Mowgli's nape as his forearms encircled the boy's shoulders—black fur contrasting starkly against golden-brown skin. The nobles gasped as one when Bagheera's body pressed flush against Mowgli's back—his engorged cock emerging from its sheath with a wet snap against the boy's tailbone.

The panther's muscles coiled—his hind legs scrambling for purchase—as the thick, barbed length dragged obscenely down between Mowgli's thighs, leaving a glistening trail of precum across trembling skin. Mowgli screamed as Bagheera's claws sank deeper into the shoulder pads—his cockhead catching against the boy's abused entrance with a slick, popping sound. Then—with terrifying inevitability—Bagheera *pushed*. The boy's body jerked violently as inches of feline flesh stretched him wider than the monkeys ever could—his scream dissolving into choked, wet sobs as the panther's barbed ridges scraped along torn inner walls.

Bagheera's growl vibrated through Mowgli's chest as his cock pulsed deeper, each brutal thrust forcing the boy's legs wider than ever. The panther's jaws clamped around Mowgli's nape—not biting, just holding—as his hips snapped forward with animal precision, his barbed cockhead knotting against the boy's prostate with every inward drive. Mowgli's body spasmed—his stomach convulsing—as Bagheera rutted into him with relentless rhythm, his black fur matted with the boy's sweat and tears.

Surret whimpered against Maleek's shoulder—his silk robes soaked through—as Bagheera's thrusts grew erratic, his hind claws gouging the wooden frame while his cock swelled impossibly thicker inside the boy. The nobles gasped when Mowgli's limp cock suddenly twitched—spurting thin, clear strands—as Bagheera's cock drove in and out relentlessly as it's barbed cock tore through Mowgli's ruined hole with wet, squelching thrusts, each ridge catching on the boy's fluttering inner walls before ripping free with brutal efficiency. The panther's monstrous length stretched Mowgli's tiny body obscenely wide—his belly bulging slightly with each deep penetration—until the barbed head scraped against the tender spot that made the boy convulse in silent agony. Precum mixed with blood dribbled down Mowgli's thighs as Bagheera's thrusts turned savage, his muscular hindquarters pistoning with predatory precision while his claws shredded the leather shoulder pads beneath them.

Mowgli's head snapped back—his mouth open in a soundless scream—when Bagheera suddenly locked his jaws around the boy's nape and *bit down*, his fangs sinking just deep enough to draw blood as his cock swelled to its full, knotted girth inside the child. The nobles surged forward—silks rustling—as Mowgli's body bowed impossibly tight against the restraints, his toes curling while Bagheera's knot pulsed against his torn rim, stretching him wider with every twitch of the panther's cock.

Maleek smirked against Surret's temple—his fingers tightening around the prince's oversensitive cock—when Bagheera's hips stuttered mid-thrust, his entire body going rigid as the first thick rope of feline cum erupted deep inside Mowgli's guts. The boy's stomach visibly distended as Bagheera's cock pumped wave after wave of hot seed—his barbed ridges scraping against overstimulated nerves with each pulsing jet—until Mowgli's limp cock dribbled another weak spurt against his belly.

The Sultan's laughter rang through the hall when Bagheera suddenly wrenched his cock free—the wet *pop* of his knot exiting Mowgli's gaping hole sending a fresh cascade of cum and blood down the boy's splayed thighs. Mowgli sagged boneless in the frame—his breathing shallow—as Bagheera licked lazily at the mess he'd made, his rough tongue rasping over the boy's trembling hole with possessive thoroughness.

Maleek looked at the boy beside him, at the throbbing in Surret's throat—his fingers sticky with the prince's sweat—as Bagheera circled Mowgli's prone form like a butcher admiring his handiwork. The panther's muzzle nudged between the boy's thighs again—his hot breath puffing against swollen skin—before dragging his tongue upward in one long, wet stroke that made Mowgli's body jerk weakly.

"Enough," the Sultan murmured, lifting a jeweled hand. His voice carried effortlessly through the silent hall—a knife cutting through tension thick as blood. "Take the beast away." At his command, handlers scrambled forward with hooked poles and chains, forcing Bagheera back from the frame with practiced brutality. The Sultan rose then—his robes pooling like ink—and gestured toward Mowgli's broken form. "Come. Examine him." His invitation slithered between the nobles like a serpent through grass. "See what becomes of wild things."

Maleek moved as smoke moves—fluid and inevitable—his approach measured to avoid startling the Sultan's ever-watchful guards. He knelt three paces from the seated Sultan, pressing his forehead to cool marble in perfect submission before speaking. "Your Magnificence," he began, voice pitched low enough that only the Sultan and his vizier could hear, "the prince wishes the boy brought to his chambers tonight." A calculated pause—just long enough to imply discretion, not hesitation. "Allow me this service—to carry him myself, and stand guard until dawn. His wounds..." Maleek's fingers flexed slightly against the floor. "...require tending before further use." Beneath his lashes, he watched the Sultan's thumb stroke the carved lion head of his armrest—counting each deliberate pass like a gambler counting cards.

The Sultan nodded, eyeing Maleek. “You did very well with this presentation for my guests, Maleek.” We thank you.” He continued, "And I see the prince likes you, hunter." His signet ring flashed as he gestured toward the banquet hall's shadowed archway where Surret leaned like a wilted orchid against a pillar. "Tend to my son's needs," he murmured, voice thick with implications, "as well as the wild one's." The unspoken command slithered between them—half-order, half-invitation—as the Sultan's gaze flicked meaningfully toward Mowgli's limp form still dripping Bagheera's seed onto the wood planking. Maleek's nostrils flared as he inhaled the layered scents—prince's sweat, boy's blood, panther's musk—and understood precisely what grooming the Sultan required of his favorite predator tonight.

Maleek nodded in understanding, his fingers brushing the dagger at his belt in unconscious anticipation. Without glancing back, he motioned sharply to the guards flanking Mowgli's bondage frame—their hands already moving to unbuckle the leather straps pinning the boy's wrists. The hunter watched impassively as Mowgli's arms flopped bonelessly to his sides, his small body sliding sideways until a guard caught him beneath the armpits, lifting him like a sack of rice. Maleek departed the Great Hall without waiting to see if they followed, his boots clicking purposefully across marble toward the Royal Apartments where Surret's chambers waited. Behind him, the scuff of sandaled feet against stone told him the guards carried Mowgli as instructed, the boy's shallow breaths barely audible over the nobles' murmurs still dissecting Bagheera's performance.