Disclaimer:
I do not own Tarzan or related characters and am not making a profit from sharing this story here. The character was created by Edgar Rice Burroughs and is now in the public domain. Any similarity between the characters in this story and real people is entirely coincidental and incredibly hot.
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(Note: I've previously mistakenly used the name "Hastings" for the character "Harrington." These are one and the same person. Sorry for any confusion.)
Chapter 17: Tarzan in The Dome's Den -- Servitude and Spectacle -------------------------------- (c) tarzanstud1@gmail.com
Chapter 17: Tarzan in the Dom's Den -- Servitude and Spectacle
As the night descended upon Mr. Blackwood's club, The Dom's Den, Tarzan found himself confined within a cage that offered little to no semblance of dignity. Patrons of the establishment, drawn by curiosity and morbid fascination, gathered around to gawk at the once-mighty king of the jungle, now reduced to a captive spectacle.
With fingers pointed and voices raised, they taunted Tarzan, poking and prodding at him, their insults cutting deeper than any physical pain. The indomitable spirit within him refused to be extinguished, but the humiliation he endured was a bitter pill to swallow.
Mr. Blackwood, relishing the perverse theater that unfolded before him, approached Tarzan's cage, leash in hand. He had a plan, and the club's patrons eagerly awaited the next act of this grotesque performance.
"Watch closely, ladies and gentlemen," Mr. Blackwood announced, his voice dripping with a malevolent delight. "Tarzan, the once-mighty, shall now demonstrate his obedience."
With a firm tug of the leash, he led Tarzan out of the cage, the crowd's anticipation palpable. They shouted suggestions, their desires echoing in the dimly lit club.
"Exercise for us, Tarzan!" one patron called out, eager to see the mighty physique in action.
"An exotic dance!" another chimed in, his intentions clear.
Tarzan, bound by the chains of his servitude, performed each task with a grim determination. Under Mr. Blackwood's direction, he displayed his strength through exercises, moved with an exotic grace that belied his predicament, and even responded to the whims of the crowd by performing tricks.
However, the most anticipated act of the evening was yet to come. A hulking figure, veiled in shadows, emerged, leading a giant ape. The crowd erupted in excitement as they witnessed the spectacle that had been promised.
With a signal from Mr. Blackwood, Tarzan and the giant ape faced each other in an arena set up for their confrontation. The tension in the air was palpable, the outcome of this battle uncertain.
Tarzan, his body taut with adrenaline, fought for his life against the formidable ape. The struggle was fierce, their primal strength pitted against each other. Tarzan, despite his weakened state, refused to yield, his determination burning bright.
It was a battle that raged on, the audience gripped by the spectacle unfolding before them. Tarzan and the ape locked in a fierce struggle, each refusing to give in to the other.
As the climax of the battle neared, Tarzan's strength and wits were put to the ultimate test. He fought with every ounce of energy and cunning he possessed, his very survival hanging in the balance.
As the battle with the giant ape reached its climax, Tarzan summoned the last reserves of his strength, a primal roar echoing through the arena. With a final surge of power, he emerged victorious, pounding his chest in a display of raw, untamed triumph.
The patrons erupted in cheers, their excitement uncontainable. They hailed Tarzan's victory, their jubilation filling the air like a tempest of sound and emotion. They celebrated the spectacle, their eyes gleaming with a savage satisfaction.
In the midst of the chaotic celebration, Mr. Blackwood seized his opportunity. He approached Tarzan from behind, a syringe filled with a potent tranquilizer in his hand. With a swift and calculated motion, he jabbed it into Tarzan's rear, the effects swift and unforgiving.
Tarzan's vision blurred, his limbs growing heavy as he succumbed to the tranquilizer's power. His consciousness waned, and he was left vulnerable to the will of those who sought to control him.
Mr. Blackwood's men quickly bound the savage to the outside of his cage and hosed the drugged stud down, the water cascading over his powerful physique. It was a stark reminder of his captivity, the cleansing ritual a dehumanizing act that stripped away his dignity.
One by one, the patrons approached Tarzan, their intentions clear. They "congratulated" him, their hands lingering on his chest, his arms, his loincloth. They teased and taunted, their amusement mingling with an air of superiority.
Meanwhile, Mr. Blackwood entertained offers from individuals eager to claim Tarzan for their own pleasure. The prospect of a night with the captive king held an irresistible allure, and offers of payment flowed freely.
As the night wore on, Mr. Blackwood considered his options, weighing the potential gains against the risks. His partnership with Lord Harrington loomed large in his calculations, and the fate of Tarzan hung in the balance.
In the midst of the debauchery and decadence, Tarzan's consciousness began to return, his senses slowly reawakening. He surveyed the scene, his acceptance of his role forged through the crucible of captivity. He was the captive king, providing sport and entertainment for those who considered themselves superior.
END OF CHAPTER SEVENTEEN-------------------------------------
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