Irian Jaya

By: David Andrew
(© 2011 by the author)

The author retains all rights. No reproductions are allowed without the author's consent. Comments are appreciated at...

Chapter 2

Barry clearly had not seen the tribesmen. "Where's the KY?' I heard him ask from a great distance.

"Forget the KY. Release the boy."

"I need it for Christ's sake. Pass it over."

"Forget it! Release him! We've got company."

"Jesus fucking Christ Almighty! Oh Shit!" I didn't dare take my eyes off the assembled warriors. It was like facing a pack of guard dogs, I felt that if I turned away they would attack. And they were warriors, no doubt about it. Most of them wore a head-dress of feathers taken from Birds-of-Paradise. This, and their penis sheaths, that was all. The sheaths were impressive. Eighteen to twenty-four inches long, tapering to a point, they curved up and out from the sparse pubic hair. It was hard to tell what they were made of, looked like leather. (Later I learned that they are called kotekas, they are gourds which are  stretched with weights as they grow, stretched into long tapering shapes.) Perhaps the most impressive thing was that there was no visible means of support or attachment; they were mounted on, and supported by, fully erect penises. Dozens of  erect penises. From where I was standing I could see fifty or more with rank upon rank behind that. Each of these naked warriors carried a weapon, most held short throwing spears, a smaller number had crude looking bows and arrows. I have seen lots of weapons in my travels, beautifully made, polished and gleaming in glass cases in museums. These ones were crude, spear shafts hardly straighter than the bows, the metal spear tips and arrow heads rusty and blackened. There was no doubt in my mind as to which weapons were the more impressive: these ones were for real, they were used for killing animals…and enemies.

I heard a sound from behind, then became aware of Barry and Andy standing by my shoulders, one on either side. Just at this point there was a ripple in the crowd. The ranks parted as three figures made their way towards us. One was obviously the chief, his headdress was taller, his sheath longer. Beside him was a powerful looking warrior, markedly more muscular than any of the others, the hill tribes are wiry rather than well built. The third was a small, wizened figure. There was no need to be told this was the shaman, the medicine man. He wore no sheath, looking at him I reckoned he would have fallen forward on his face had he tried. He did wear a cord around his waist adorned with an amazing selection of animal body-parts: I didn't look too closely lest I saw something more human than animal. He also carried a stick with a gourd mounted on one end, a bunch of feathers on the other. It was the sort of thing used in Latin American bands, don't know what they're called, they put the cha-cha in the cha-cha-cha.      The three of them took up position in front of the silent crowd, then, to my surprise, it wasn't the chief who spoke. The shaman exploded in a torrent of what had to be the most foul abuse. He opened at the pitch that most rabble-rousers only reach in a grand finalé. He ranted, he raved, he shook his rattle in our faces. He played to his audience who warmed to his performance, their murmurings of approval rose to shouts, then roars. All this time we stood watching in silence. This I realized was wrong, the shaman was having it all his own way, we had to interrupt his flow before the mob was moved to action. I deliberately turned my back to the priest to speak to Andy, he was our only hope. This did not please the shaman, I could tell by his voice just behind my ear, and braced myself expecting a blow from his rattle. I was scared: when I saw Andy's face I realized that things were worse than I had feared. But what really amazed me was that Andy still had a full erection sticking up proudly from his hips. I looked down at myself. I too was fully aroused although the only thing on my mind was survival, not sex. In the past when in danger my cock had always collapsed. When I was almost caught naked in another boy's bed; when a police cruiser had come by as I was being fucked in a park; when security had hammered on the hotel door during a gang-bang with ten of my friends; on all these occasions my dick collapsed like a pricked balloon. Yet in the face of real danger we were pumped up hard. I have read that when a man is about to be executed he gets an erection, I guess it could be true. Strange.

"What's he saying?" I asked as the ranting continued.

"He er... He says we have violated their holy place. We've defiled it... That we should be..."

"OK. Tell him he's wrong. Tell him he's got it all wrong."

"But what can I say? They saw us..."

"Say anything, just interrupt him. Tell him we came because we know it is a holy place... And... um... we came to perform one of our ceremonies here because there are strong vibes, strong spirits, anything like that. Ignore the little fucker, talk to the chief."

Poor Andy, he was so young, so inexperienced, yet he was our only hope. Ignoring the shaman he spoke to the chief in a voice that was remarkably steady considering the circumstances. They spoke for a while, Andy very insistent, the chief doubtful, the priest trying to interrupt, Barry and I silent, watching. Suddenly the powerful looking one interrupted, we named him 'Side-kick', he seemed to be number two in the pecking order. As he spoke he gestured to Andy's cock, a fine sight too, but there was no admiration in his voice. When he finished there was loud approval from the mob.

"What was that about?" asked Barry. I looked at Andy, he was ashen.

"He said if we were men we would be treated the same as any other enemies, but since we have never been through the manhood ritual, not circumcised, we are not men. So we should be given a chance to prove ourselves."

"And how do we do that?"

"We will each be given a spear then allowed to leave. At sunset three warriors will follow. The ones who survive will be real men." Now I knew why Andy had gone pale, a week's start wouldn't have been enough for the three of us to get away from these forest hunters. Just looking at those rusty spear heads made me feel sick.

"Tell him that all we have to do is to call for help and a whole army will come to our assistance" said Barry trying to sound aggressive.

Side-kick looked down at the contents of Barry's rucksack which had spilled out when he was looking for the KY. He saw the satellite navigation gismo. With a contemptuous gesture he smashed the stock of his spear down on the face. The glass shattered: we weren't going to be going far in these hills. However it could have been worse, he hadn't smashed our transceiver, we might still get a chance to call for help.

"Let him think he's knocked out the radio, but tell him that they'll come looking for us anyway, dozens of men, hundreds, keep them wondering."

 At this stage I got a feel for what was going on. The chief looked worried. All around him his men, stirred up by Sidekick and the shaman, were baying for action. He had probably had more dealings with Westerners, knew something of the likely response if the three of us disappeared. He knew who would be held responsible. By now he was wishing we would simply disappear. Sidekick was looking defiant. He didn't care about the consequences. If the army came in he could deny responsibility, the chief was in charge. And if the chief was deposed he was the one who stood to inherit. The shaman was on a high. He wanted the intruders punished. The more severe the punishment the more his status would rise. The weak link was the chief, we had to worry him. Barry must have been thinking along the same lines.

"Manhood ritual!" he said. "Tell the chief we came here to perform our own manhood ritual, because we had been told that this is the best place to do it. Tell him that's why we are here, that's what we were doing."

There was another lengthy exchange between Andy and the chief. The shaman kept trying to interrupt: the number two man looked skeptical: the crowd grew restive. At last the chief spoke, with an air of finality. Judging from the murmurings in the crowd he had come up with a plan that neatly got him off the hook without backing down.

"So what's the deal?" I asked.

"He says that if we came for our manhood ceremony then we have nothing to fear. We are fortunate because they will be having a ceremony for their own boys tomorrow, that's why they're here. We take part. That's the deal."

I looked at Barry, he looked at me, neither spoke. He, like me, was trying to remember what Andy had been saying last night. It had seemed fascinating then. Circumcision was the word that sprang to my mind. Before either of us said a word Andy spoke to the chief. What he said was warmly received by all except the two obvious exceptions. Again we didn't need  a translation.

Once the deal was done the atmosphere improved immediately, we were no longer intruders we were going to become members of the clan. The tribesmen set about cleaning up the clearing, tearing out the long grass, slashing with pangas at the creepers that covered the hut where the heads were stored. Now I noticed that there was not a single penis sheath to be seen.  We didn't see them being removed, but now each of the men wore what could only be called a willy warmer, a bag made of finely woven vine padded with kapok, a natural fiber that looks like cotton wool. Their balls, still hanging down nice and loose, swung between their legs as they worked. The work continued for about an hour when, quite suddenly, almost all the men departed, leaving only a small group who we saw were wearing their sheaths again. One of them was standing very close to where we sat leaning against the base of a large tree. There was nothing supporting the eighteen inch sheath except penis, and the point of it was right up under his chin.

"Wow!" said Barry quietly. "How does he get it up like that? He could make a fortune as a call-boy. Up and down on demand, and it's got to be rock hard to hold the sheath up so high."

"It's part of their training" said Andy.

"So how long would we have to stick around to learn?" said Barry, not entirely in jest.

"Oh with a few years practice you'd do it on demand too." At that pointSidekick appeared, literally dressed to kill. He led the others out of the clearing on a hunting expedition.

From the time that the deal had been done with the chief the three of us were pretty much ignored. We sat in the shade at the base of a large tree at the edge of the clearing leaning against the huge trunk. There were tribesmen all around, the chief was resting after the excitement under another tree not fifty feet away, but at no time did we feel we were being guarded or watched. Neither was there any objection when Andy got up and retrieved our rucksacks. All our gear was still in them, including the two-way radio. I wondered about the possibility of a quick call. Could we extend the sixty inch antenna without being noticed? Maybe. Would the volume would be just high enough for us, and only us, to hear the reply? Maybe. Could we get the message across in just a few words? We didn't know our position in latitude and longitude, but we were still where the helicopter had dropped us.

"What sort of hours do they keep in the radio shack?" I asked.

"It's always manned when the chopper is flying..."

"Just when it's flying?" I asked in surprise.

"No, we agreed that they would listen out for us between six and seven, morning and evening."

"And if we don't call?"

"Well if we don't call, we don't call, that's all."

"You mean that nobody is going to worry about us if they don't get a call. Is that what you mean?"

"Sure. We'll call on Thursday evening or Friday morning to arrange the pick up of course."

"For Christ's sake, that's crazy. Supposing the one carrying the radio falls over a cliff... or if we leave it on and the batteries go flat? What then?"

"Ah...Well ... no we didn't set it up that way... but we could try a call. Somebody might be listening out."

At this point the shaman came over to talk to the chief. Before they were through the others started filing back into the clearing. They were carrying firewood, lots of it, which they piled in a heap and lit. By the time the hunters returned, carrying the body a capuchine monkey on a pole, the fire had died down. The unfortunate creature was tossed unceremoniously into the center of the mass of red embers causing an explosion of sparks and ash accompanied by the most ghastly smell of burning hair.

"I think I should warn you," said Andy, "that it's considered extremely insulting to refuse any food they offer us. Things would go very bad, very quick." Barry and I exchanged glances in silence. It could have been worse, we could have been strict vegetarians, or allergic to monkey flesh. Maybe we were of course. From time to time over the next half hour the pole was used to turn the carcass. When they dragged it off the pyre we knew it was time to eat. I will spare you the description of the meal, suffice it to say that it is the only time I have ever eaten meat that was charred to a cinder on one side and red raw on the other. Mercifully one monkey between so many does not make for large portions, although I would happily have exchanged my share with some of the others who had been less fortunate in the hand-out.

By the time the meal was over the sun had set. Night came with amazing speed, but as the sun set, the moon rose, almost full, so it didn't get really dark. Soon the tribesmen settled down for the night, mostly in pairs, some in threesomes, more or less where they had been eating. We spread our sleeping rolls and sat on them in silence leaning against our tree, tomorrow very much on our minds. It was Barry who spoke first.

"I can't tell you how bad I feel about getting you two into this mess. It's just a total fuck-up and it's all my fault." I hadn't thought of this as Barry's fault, it was just one of those hundred million to one chances. He could have arranged the radio contacts in a more positive, fail-safe, way, but even so they couldn't have come rushing to our rescue in these mountains at night. And who could tell what might happen if the chopper came looking for us at first light? The tribesmen would have heard it when it was many miles away; would we still be around by the time it arrived? We had landed in the wrong place at the wrong time. Nobody, but nobody, could have predicted this outcome. Andy felt the same.

"You didn't get me into anything. I came because I wanted to come. Shall I tell you when I first learned about this ceremony, I mean the very first time?" It was a rhetorical question, he didn't wait for an answer. "I was ten years old, my father had just come into the mountains as a medical missionary. The ceremony was due to be held soon after we arrived and the elders asked him if I could join the other new boys who were about to start their training. He didn't realize what was involved, thought it would be good training for a boy, help to integrate us with the tribe and gain their trust. He said yes. When the day came we were both taken to their clearing. I was separated from my father and taken to sit with the novices. I knew that this was something exciting, all the boys were naked, every little prick was stiff. Nobody told me to strip, but I wanted to. I couldn't see my father in the crowd, I wondered what he would say. I shucked off my shorts and sat beside the others to watch the older boys going through the final rituals. Everyone, man and boy, was fascinated by my pink prick. I was just as interested in theirs. I could see the boys' little brown ones; what I wanted to see was the men's big brown ones, but they were wearing sheaths. The first boy was brought to the posts. He stood with his back to us, arms raised, legs wide. I can still remember that first stroke of the vine across his young brown ass. The tip flicked around his hips, I couldn't see his cock and balls, but I knew that the whip couldn't have missed them. I was hooked. Right then my dad realized what was involved. He called to me, I pretended not to hear. It took him some time to get to where I was sitting by which time I had seen enough to keep me awake at night for weeks, months.

"The next time that I was in the mountains when there was a ceremony was when I was fifteen. The kids who were being made into men were the same ones I had sat with that first day. My father had made it very clear that I was not to go near the clearing, but a couple of days before the ceremony he had to take a very sick, pregnant woman down to the coast for treatment he could not manage in the village. He was gone four days. I saw the whole thing. I spoke to my friends before, during and after. The only regret I had was that I could not take part, that the shaman would not call me out of the line. I masturbated so much during the next few weeks that I took the skin off my prick. It was red raw, about as painful as if I had been circumcised. My father noticed that I was walking in an awkward way. I told him I had tripped and twisted my ankle, to my surprise he believed me. So you see there's no need to apologize to me. No way would I have missed out on this trip."

"But you couldn't have been expecting anything like this to happen."

"No, but it's happened, and you don't have to apologize to me. Maybe David is sore, but I'm not. Not yet anyway," he added with a grin. I looked sideways at him. This was one cocky kid. The two of us have taken many good beatings, yet it was Andy whose cock was still up and throbbing between his legs. I envied Barry, he's going to have Andy to play with for the next couple of years, some bottom to work on. 'Well, after the cuts have healed,' I thought. That thought brought me back to reality. I could only remember part of what Andy had told us the previous night, the outline. Now I felt it would be easier to face what was coming if I knew the details.

"Tell us about tomorrow. I mean the er... Well what do they use to..."

"Traditionally it was a special flint knife, the shaman keeps it with the trophies, but lately some tribes have taken to using razor blades. Not that they're any better, they're used over and over, sharpened up on a stone. Some of them use broken glass..."

"Jesus Christ! Broken glass?" Barry's voice reflected my feelings exactly.

"Oh it's the best. They break a bottle or something, plenty of clean, sharp edges, don't have to be reused. Electric light bulbs are the most sought after, very thin, very sharp." This kid was something else. His foreskin was going to be sliced away in the morning and he's talking about the relative merits of blades and glass. And he still had an erection! Me, I was feeling sick. I hoped it was just the monkey and that I wasn't going to make a fool of myself the next day.

"And those two posts?" asked Barry pointing to two large bamboo's that had been set upright in front of the trophy hut. "That where we stand for the whipping?" I noticed that he said 'we,' that didn’t make me feel any better.

"Yes. When the shaman taps you on the shoulder you get up and walk over there. Stand about two feet this side of the posts, legs wide apart, then lean forward putting your hands as high up on the posts as you can reach. The idea is to give the man with the whip the best shot, and the spectators the best view. Oh, did I make it clear that the whipping, and the circumcision, has to be taken in complete silence. It's very important, in fact it's vital."

"So what happens if you scream? They gonna cut our nuts off as well?" Barry jested.

"Yes, exactly."

"You're kidding!"

"No, I'm not."

"Jees... Even for a gasp?"

"Almost certainly. It's part of the deal. I told them we wanted to become men remember? The chief made it clear, it had to be all or nothing. I tried telling him that we hadn't had the years of training, but he said there was only one way to become men, we must go through the whole ceremony. The rest of the tribe wouldn't have stood for it if we were treated differently from the boys who will be joining us in the morning. If any of them fails the test he will be castrated, on the spot, he will have to live with the women, he will be nothing. Neither man nor woman. So remember, no matter what, not a sound!"

'Well fuck me,' I thought, 'this is real heavy'. By this time I would have cheerfully settled for being tied to the log and gang raped by the whole tribe if they would have allowed me to crawl away after that.

"And er...after the ...circumcising bit... what stops the wound going septic?" It was a reasonable question from Barry. "I guess we'll be back in camp pretty soon, if we can get word back, but what about the boys?"

"They'll get you to stand up, then dip your cock in a liquid contained in a gourd. Something they boil up with roots. It does work, my father was impressed, but I've been told that it hurts as much as the cutting. So remember, it's not over until that's been done."

"And after that do we go with one of the warriors? Like the boys?"

"Yes, that's all part of the ceremony. I guess that bit won't be too bad. Then they will bring us back to the clearing, we'll be members of the tribe, free to come and go as we please."

We were not the only ones in deep conversation, there was a low murmuring all around the clearing. Even as we were speaking we saw the movement. The sounds increased, spreading across the open space. We fell silent, fascinated by the mass of moonlit bodies writhing against each other. Men fucking and sucking as far as the eye could see, a beautiful sight. Andy was transfixed, the precum shining as it dripped steadily from his young cock, but I was exhausted. Not only had it been a long day, there is a nineteen hour time change between Irian Jaya and California. I slid slowly down the tree trunk in that luxurious state, neither asleep nor awake, slipping slowly in and out of consciousness. I heard a gasp, then another and another. The first seemed to come from a great distance, but then I realized it was close to my ear. With the greatest difficulty I roused myself to see what was happening. In the dark shadow under the tree I could see the familiar outline of Barry's ass as it rose and fell, rose and fell. The gasps turned to a whimpers, then to moans. Andy was no longer a virgin.

When I woke at 5.20 it was still dark. For a moment I thought I would drop off again, then I remembered. That icy chill in the stomach was so familiar, school exams, all exams, job interviews, flying checks, the exact same feeling. I knew there was no way I would get back to sleep, but I lay for a while thinking, trying to psyche myself up for the ordeal. I kept telling myself that it was just another S&M session with a bunch of strangers, I'd done that often enough, it had always been good. This time I had a fair idea of what sort of torture the tops were going to use which wasn't often the case. The pain a little sharp perhaps, but it shouldn't last too long. Day comes fast at the equator. At 5.30 there was the first hint of light, a murmuring spread across the clearing. At 5.45 it was broad daylight, the day of the ceremony.

To be continued...

Posted: 09/23/11