1. Native Claim


    Date: 9/29/2016, Categories: Dark Fantasy, Cannibalism, Girls / Female, Author: ninja5, Rating: 73.3, Source: sexstories.com

    Western clothes. He rubbed his belly and continued doing so. “Good day Sir. Are you the Chief of this Island Nation?” Billings was all manners desperately trying to make a good impression. Jillian watched on eagerly. “No my good man I am not. My name is Peter. I was named by one of the many groups of Missionary’s who have come to this island. I learnt English from them, before…” Billings cut him off with urgency. “I need to speak to your Chief on a very urgent matter. Is it possible to…” Billings had already regained his composure now that he was getting somewhere. “Yes of course. This way.” He gestured toward a straw hut, larger than all the others. This hut had an opening in the centre of its roof and smoke billowed out. The English speaking native walked on ahead. “This way.” He called back. Billings turned excitedly to Jillian. “Now we’re getting somewhere.” He pointed at Jillian. “You! All smiles to the chief. Do that stomach rubbing thing they all liked.” He marched off. Jillian waved to the natives all looking on at her and her fiery red hair. She smiled and rubbed her belly before kicking back her leg like she’d been kissed and skipped off after Billings towards the Chief’s hut. Billings was already through the entrance as she stepped into the large hut. As she did so she noted the feathers hanging by threads on tiny sculptures either side of the door way. They were like dream catchers with rodent skulls at the centre. The site of the morbid native art challenged ...
    Jillian’s happiness at the culture that had greeted her with such celebrity. Despite the chimney in the centre of the mud coated straw hut the interior was dim. Almost immediately Jillian could see the giant figure of the chief sitting on a thrown made of tropical wood. Inside the hut a couple of hunters, possible guards – a tribal secret service, sat to the side. There were two female counter parts on the other side of the hut. They sat behind palm leaves loaded with red and yellow berries as if waiting to be summoned like serving girls. Instead of the grey – brown of dried fronds the Chief wore a hemp like skirt, almost like a quilt stained a faded purple by some dye cultivated on the island. Like all the islanders he had thick dreads, his by far longer than his citizens. Emerald green feather adorned his head and his hairless chest bulged as big as Billings. He had a stern look on his face as if his station meant he was beyond the carefree happiness of his tribe and he surveyed the entrance of Billings with a serious demeanour. As Jillian stepped all the way through the doorway his eyes turned to her and widened. Peter was talking to the chief, hunched over whispering in his ear in his native tongue. He pointed to Jillian, for the first time on the island the attention did not have the same thrilling appeal of innocence. Jillian’s body language became reserved and she realised they were about to get down to business. Billings too was putting on his game face. Billings stood ...
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