Glade and Ivory Ch. 04

She stood beside Glade and gazed down at her dispassionately. Glade resented being stared at so rudely and glared back up at the black woman. Anger and hatred flashed from her eyes. The black woman smiled. This was the first flicker of emotion she'd expressed and Glade wasn't at all sure how to interpret it. She then barked out a series of hyena-like calls and wandered just as unhurriedly out of the pen.

It was Glade who the black woman had chosen. Of course, she had no idea what a privilege this was, even for a slave. Most of the others from her tribe were to be chosen by villagers of much lower rank and, as a consequence, would endure rather more arduous terms of employment than Glade. And, as she was to discover, were to sleep in rather less comfort and luxury.

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Ivory lay back on the bed in perhaps the most comfort and luxury she'd ever known, but she was concerned about more immediate matters. The pain of the final breach of her hymen and the trickle of blood down her inner thigh had made it necessary for her to break off from the Chief whose desire to fuck her continued unabated and may even have been excited by the young girl's obvious distress. Why had it taken so long for her maidenhead to be breached? Would the blood ever stop flowing?

Glade ensured that the Chief wouldn't return as soon as he wanted to his sport by taking his penis between her lips and bobbing her head up and down on it so that the glans was deep inside her throat. Ivory could now see that Glade was as expert in arousing men as she was women. The young apprentice was soon forgotten and the Chief's desire became entirely focused on fucking the shaman.

Ivory knew Glade well enough by now to recognise unfeigned passion and she was bitter that the enthusiasm the older woman expressed in response to the Chief's urgent fucking was as real as any that she'd shown her young lover. How could this be? Surely, a woman can only truly love one other person? How could Glade enjoy sex with someone else, even someone of such inestimable status as Chief Cave Lion? Jealousy was added to the anxiety of having lost what was left of her virginity.

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Low spirits continued to weigh down the traumatised Glade as they had from the moment of her first encounter with the black warriors. She later discovered that they called themselves the Knights of the Savannah, which was as grandiose an appellation as all the others adopted by the tribe. Nonetheless, Glade's trauma was beginning to metamorphose into a resigned acceptance of her fate and destiny. When she was led away from the pen by two female slaves, one dark and short and the other brown and tall, she didn't struggle or attempt to escape. This was as much from a loss of will as from the wariness she'd acquired from seeing how brutally the Knights dispatched any who challenged their authority. At least two men and one woman had been killed on the long walk from the forest to the village when they'd seen what they thought was a chance to run away. Their slaughter was, in all cases, unnecessarily prolonged and violent and, worst of all, somewhat confused with the perverse sexual acts the warriors indulged in.

Glade was treated by the two slaves with something very much like kindness though she didn't understand a word they said to her in their own differently but heavily accented version of their captors' barking, hyena-like tongue. She walked between the two slaves at the same measured pace as their mistress, who preceded them and still didn't speak a word. She was escorted to one of the larger buildings within the chief warrior's compound past other slaves who bowed down very low as Glade's mistress passed.

It was frightening at first to enter a building. She had never seen inside one before and had no idea what to expect. It was spacious and in the centre was a hearth in which smouldered a fire from which smoke trailed upwards and out through the straw roof. The floor of the hut was covered with the hides of zebra, quagga and rhinoceros. A framed bed was raised above the floor by flat stones and bound by a lattice of threaded straws and cord. There was a chair constructed out of wood and leather and this was where the mistress sat.

The two slaves laid Glade down on the tough rhinoceros hide and brought a clay bowl of cold water towards her. She was then shaved with a thoroughness that exceeded any earlier shave: first by sharp flint and then by a painful waxing. This was not the rough kind of shaving she'd experienced before, but an almost tender ceremony, where the slaves' fingers lingered longer than they needed over Glade's vulva and bosom. After this, she was washed by water that was squeezed out of palm leaves that were first soaked in cold water in the clay bowl. This was the most scrupulous washing of Glade's life. Before this, the cleanest she'd ever been was after bathing in the ponds, rivers and streams that ran through the forest and in which there was sometimes the risk of attack by crocodile.

Then, although Glade was still sure that the kindness would be capped by brutal rape or some other monstrous act of cruelty, she was allowed to rest on a bed of straw by the fire. All at once, the weariness that had accumulated over the last moon and a half overwhelmed her and she fell into the soundest sleep she could ever remember.

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Ivory, however, was not enjoying a similar welcoming oblivion. The shaman and the Chief continued their noisy lovemaking with abandon on the bed she normally shared with her older lover. Ivory watched the Chief's penis thrust into Glade's well-loved vagina. A stream of fluids that was an admixture of vaginal cream, semen and saliva dripped down the penis shaft and onto the Chief's tangled bush of pubic hair.

Ivory's resentment at Glade's apparent ecstasy was tinged with fear of the Chief's renewed desire for younger flesh, but she was rewarded by her two older bed-partners collapsing into sleep long before this could happen.

Was this her future then? Would she have to share her body with older people? This was most certainly not the prospect that had lubricated her many pubescent masturbatory fantasies.