Eva and the Black Amazons Pt. 04

Eva let her body slide to Katunda's side and told her to lean on her elbow She cupped the girl's body with hers, putting a leg over it as if to take definitive possession of it. She was feeling relaxed, the smell of the black girl filling her nostrils. She kissed softly Katunda's back and closed her eyes. Katunda took her hand and put it over her own pussy, in a silent plea for more pleasure.

"You want more, don't you, my African cat? Let your Miss take care of you..."

She fingered expertly the girl's pussy and made her cum two or three times, enjoying the sight of her buttocks jerking against the spotless sheets. They stayed there, bodies entwined.

"Miss, what will happen to Tonga?" Katunda asked,

Eva sighed.

"She will stay with the police chief. I suppose he needs a servant, or perhaps he wants her as a concubine."

"But Miss – how will she feel? So far from her village, in the middle of unknown people? She was training to be a warrior!"

"You said it, Katunda – shewastraining to be a warrior. But she proved a good cook, and in time she will become used to her new condition. All of us must meet our destiny. I didn't like to s... lose her, either, but what could I do? We needed those permits. You had told me that he would ask something... and he made it quite clear what he wanted."

Eva patted the girl's firm butt.

"Now let's get some sleep. I have to wake up early tomorrow, and Taranga will not be here to bring my breakfast."

Katunda closed her eyes. That woman was ruthless; when she wanted something, she would not stop until she got it. Better to have her as an ally! She pictured herself in a nurse uniform, and played with that vision until she fell asleep.

***

The sun was going down as the truck reached the airport. Everything had gone smoothly: early that morning, Eva had travelled to the village to fetch the twelve Amazons. She was greeted by Sunga, Munga and Sheera, and had seen with satisfaction theEmade with arrows on the trunk of the tree at which she used to "park" the twins. To their question about where Tonga was, she replied that her tooth was still aching, so she had to stay in the town for some days: it was unnecessary to reveal that she had traded the girl for the travel permits. Samba was still away with the other women, chasing the leopard.

"Tell Samba that I want the beast's skin prepared and put in my hut. And all the girls I gavebulawasto will come to this tree every morning, kneel down and put their foreheads on the ground. This is my sign – Munga and Sunga have it already on the back of their heads – so you all will remember to whom you belong.", she had added.

The twelve virgins had climbed into the truck hold and Eva had personally locked the doors. After some hours on the dusty road, they had arrived safely at the airport; the girls had been given tunics to conceal their nakedness, a pill to sleep during the next few hours, and now they were dozing peacefully behind the curtain that separated them from the woman they calledMiss.

The aircraft's motors roared as it rose from ground. Eva opened her notebook: still no answer from Clara Becker, to whom she had sent an email asking for a scholarship for Katunda. But she knew Clara well: the photographs she had attached to the message were more than enough to assure a favorable reply – the director of the nursing school would not waste the chance of having that African jewel at hand ... Eva sipped the soft drink at her side; she would have preferred a cold beer, but, according to Moslem law, no alcohol was allowed in the aeroplane.

What she didn't know was that, while she was at the village, a reply had come to Ibn Kaphir's message:

"Accepted. Usual fee will be handed to your brother when the gift arrives.

Samira, Princess of Aden."

Eva felt her head turning and thought that the excitement of the previous week was taking its toll. Barely a week had passed since she had set foot in Africa, but what a week it had been! She closed her eyes: that must be fatigue, she thought. A few days with the Princess would be a welcome break.

But a powerful narcotic had been put into that drink, and she was still unconscious a few hours later, when the plane touched ground. The Amazons were embarked in a truck; she was put into a car, and all were driven to the palace.

Princess Samira was waiting for them. She had pronounced Arabic features: an olive skin, thick black hair done in a braid that dangled over her shoulder, and deep, passionate dark eyes. Her tunic was richly embroidered, her feet were in silk slippers, and all her demeanor showed a woman accustomed to be obeyed.

"Welcome to my country, girls!" she said, amused – the twelve Amazons had knelt down and turned no their palms up on their thighs, as Miss had taught them. "I hope you will like you new life here. Rise up and remove your tunics."

She walked slowly by the standing girls, evaluating them. All were indeed superb; the Princess touched a cheek here, a breast there, playing with their nose rings. She wanted two or three for her personal service; the others would be showed to the sheikhs, who would certainly pay a good amount to have them in their harems.

"What is your name?", she asked, stopping in front of the prettiest Amazon.

"Valera, Miss."

"Step ahead, Valera."

The Princess continued her inspection and stopped again, this time in front of a tall one with a marvellous pair of lips. She opened the girl's mouth and checked teeth and gums; the tongue was smooth, promising much pleasure if used in the right places.

"And yours?"

"Matomba, Miss."

"Very well." Samira turned an eunuch and said in Arabic:

"Take these two to my harem. Have the others bathed and put in a separate room. Tomorrow we will see who will buy them."

As the Amazons followed the Arab, Samira went to an adjoining room: Eva was still unconscious, stretched on a couch, with only her thong on. The Princess watched her: the woman had a sleek body, auburn hair and well-shaped limbs. She let her hand slide over the round breasts and felt their weight; those nipples would be finer with a pair of rings on them, she thought.

"Ahmed was right, that old bastard", she said to herself. "She will make a fine personal slave." She ringed a bell and one of her guards appeared.

"Take this woman to the dungeon. Let's see how long it takes until she becomes what she must become."

Fourteen

When Eva finally woke up, she found herself in a small cubicle. All was dark; she took some moments to realize that she was naked. She jumped up, trying to understand what had happened. As she made one or two steps in the darkness, she stumbled and fell down: a steel bar between her ankles prevented her from closing her legs. Her heart thumped in her chest: what did that mean? Surely it was a bad dream ... She pinched her arm: no, it was not a dream – she had been imprisoned!

Eva screamed and banged on the wall for what seemed an eternity, but in vain. Tired of calling for help, she sat down and tried to think clearly. What had happened? Was it possible that she had fallen into a trap? Where was the Princess? And the girls? She tried to see through the thick darkness that wrapped her; her throat ached, her hands were sore – she finally gave up, sat down and leaned against the wall. There was nothing to do except wait.

She could not tell how much time had elapsed when a plate with fruits and water was pushed through an opening in the door.

"Wait! What am I doing here? Set me free at once!"

She jumped forward and fell again – she had forgotten that devilish thing between her ankles. There was no reply; the opening closed, and darkness enveloped her again.

Eva was hungry, her head ached, but most of all she was angry with herself. What an imbecile she had been! Why had she not foreseen that the Princess could want the girlsandher money? That treacherous Arab bitch! Eva quivered: how long would she be kept there? And why had they – whoevertheywere – put that horrible thing between her legs? She tried again to bring them together – it was impossible: the bar was solidly welded to the cuffs on her ankles.

She felt miserable: her hand found the fruits – she ate them, thinking of a way to escape. She rose up and slowly walked around the small cubicle, looking for some opening, but the only one was on the door, and closed. Air came into the cell from a hole in the ceiling, but above it reigned the same darkness as inside. Eva shivered at the idea that rats or cockroaches could use it to sneak in. She finally fell asleep – later she would figure out a way to get out of that place.

A voice coming from the hole above her head woke her up.

"Forget who you were, infidel woman. You have a choice: either rot here for the rest of your life or accept your fate."

"And what is that?" the photographer asked in a frightened tone. "Who are you? When will I be freed?"

"You will not. White slaves are very valuable here."

"I am no slave, I an a free woman! This is outrageous - let me out of here!"

"Youwerea free woman", the voice said calmly. Now you belong to the Princess, and will serve her. Or die."

"No! No! No..." Eva sobbed, banging with all her force on the stone wall. "Wait!" But the voice was gone.

***

Many miles away, Samba and the other Amazons were skinning the leopard. They had finally found him near a source, and killed him with their darts and arrows. Now their deft hands were removing the speckled hide of the dead beast.

"Are you going to make a cot from this, Samba?" Malunga asked. She was the mother of the girl the leopard had devoured.

"No. I am taking it to my Miss", the leader said. "It will be a present to her."

The Amazon continued to peel the back paw of the leopard. Her eyes wandered from Samba's nipple bells, which tingled as she moved her arms and hands, to the collar that circled her neck.

"Why has the white woman given you so manybulawas?" she asked, a shadow of envy in her voice.

"Because she wants to honor me."

"Do you think we can earn some, too?" asked another Amazon.

"Maybe. But you have to make a pledge to her, or she doesn't give them."

"What pledge?"

"To obey her. This means, you do as she tells you."

Malunga gave the leader a bewildered look.

"And have you agreed? You are the leader of our tribe - how can you do what anyone tells you?"

"Yes, I have - why would I lose such precious gifts?" Samba replied, cutting with her knife some of the leopard's teeth. "I'll make a necklace for Valera with these", she said to steer the conversation towards a less embarrassing subject.

Now that the leader was in a more peaceful mood, she yearned for the girl's firm breasts and sweet pussy. She didn't want to give more details of what Miss had made her endure to keep herbulawas; the memory of the dildo being pushed into her pussy, and of the resounding slaps on her ass in the night she had dared to confront the white woman, was still vivid in her mind. And the bells jingling on her nipples were a reminder of her words –when you hear the bells, you will remember that you have to obey your Miss.

The skin had been entirely removed. Samba looked up and saw vultures perched on the branches of the nearby trees.

"We'd better come back to the village now."

A few hours later, they emerged from the trail into the back part of the village. Samba wanted to go at once to Valera's hut, but she controlled her impulse: it was wiser to see Miss first and report to her. As she approached Eva's hut, she saw Munga squatting under theEshe had made with the arrows.

"Is Miss there?"

"No. She is gone. Said that she will return in a few days."

Samba grinned.

"Have you seen Valera?"

"Valera has left with the other girls."

"WHAT?"

"Yes, Samba. They are gone. All of them, Matomba too." Munga's voice sounded sad.

"No! No! Valera is mine – MINE! How could she go without telling me?" Samba's face was contorted with frustration and rage. She threw the leopard's skin on the ground and trampled furiously on it. Munga watched in silence.

"I'll go and fetch her! Who said that she could go with the others?"

"I don't know, Samba. When Sunga and I took Miss to the hut where the girls were, Valera was with her. And she had abulawaon her nose."

"Abulawa?"

Samba stopped roaring and sat down on her heels. Valera had asked her to speak to Miss about that – and she had completely forgotten! She looked at Munga's collar and anklet, and touched the stud on her tongue. Rebellion was boiling in her – what was the advantage of having so manybulawas, if the girl she coveted wasn't available any more? She clutched her fist and looked down: the leopard teeth had fallen from inside her pelt and were scattered on the ground.

"Miss seemed pleased with having Valera there", Munga said. "You are not going to argue with her, are you? Unless you want to lose yourbulawas."

Samba shivered. Munga was right! They both belonged to the white woman, and each had her duties – Munga was her bearer, and she, Samba, had to come whenever Miss wanted to be pleasured. The leader touched her collar and stared at the squatting Amazon. She was quite attractive, and Samba could easily imagine that Miss had taught her some of her techniques.

"Munga – Matomba is gone too, isn't she?"

"Yes, she is. I tried to talk to Miss about that, but she threatened to take mybulawasaway if I asked again."

"Would you like to get a necklace? I was going to make one for Valera with the leopard's teeth." The leader's eyes were on Munga's pert breasts; those nipples would certainly taste good in her mouth.

Munga's face beamed.

"Will you make one for me?"

Samba's put her hand on the girl's shoulder and felt the smooth skin under her palm.

"I will, Munga. If you ..."

Munga rose up and brushed her nose on the leader's shoulder.

"Let's go inside Miss' hut", she said. Then she remembered Eva's instructions:

"Samba, Miss has said that all of us to whom she gavebulawasmust do a certain thing every day. Let me show you." She knelt down before theEon the trunk and stretched her arms, touching the ground with her forehead. "We have to do this first thing in the morning. To remember to whom we belong, Miss said."

Samba hesitated for a moment, but the image of Eva's stern face appeared before her mind's eye. The bells on her nipples tingled as she went on fours, stretched her arms and lowered her head. She could almost feel Miss's toe on her pussy - that woman was stronger than any Amazon, she thought: even if not physically present, she still was their Miss, and her wishes were not to be disputed.

Munga stood up and Samba followed her into Eva's hut. Both their lovers had departed to the white woman's land - who could say for how long? It was only fair that they get intimate – Miss would not object to that! Samba shivered as she saw the chain lying on the ground; her eyes followed it to the point where it was welded to the post. No, she would not risk being attached there for a third time! When Miss came back and sent for her, she would lick her cunt and her feet as many times as she wished.

But she was not there; who was there was Munga, and Samba was eager to be taken care of after all those days in the jungle. She hugged the Amazon and their lips touched. They stayed for a moment tasting each other's tongue; then the leader pressed the girl's head down, lay on one of the cots and spread her legs.

****

Three weeks later, Eva's only thought was how to get out of that cubicle. Her eyes had grown accustomed to the darkness, and now she could discern dimly the stone walls and the iron door. But this was the only progress she had made. Inside the cell, the heat was almost insufferable; her body stank among her dejects, her hair was a mess, and her breathe smelled foul.

She had stopped screaming and imploring to be released, as only a deep silence met her pleas. She had tried to keep her mind working, remembering details of her week with the Amazons – the twins caring her around, Samba bending obediently between her legs, Tonga and Sheera greeting her, Taranga's pussy dripping as she sucked her nipple, Katunda's body by hers... These images alternated with other memories, in a sort of whirl that often made her head turn – Clara Becker – Amanda's pussy opening in front of her – how the black girl had refused to kiss her foot – her studio – the exhibition where she had met the Princess – the interview at the Consulate – the talk with the police chief – her visit to the Embassy of Aden...

Sometimes it seemed that she was going crazy. That could not be real – she was not there, with a steel bar preventing her legs from closing; it was a nightmare, she would wake up between the soft sheets of her bed... But it was no nightmare. She was fed once a day with fruits and water; her will was being consumed by constant hunger, at times her mind seemed to boggle – she would not become a slave – but wasn't that better than to die there – no, she was not an African, slavery was not a thing that could be imposed on a Western woman – but that was barbarous country...

From time to time, the same voice was heard above her head, repeating the same words – "you belong to the Princess now – you will serve her, or die." Eva didn't want to die; she began to think that anything was preferable to that torture – even serving the Princess, whatever that meant. Perhaps she needed a photographer? And what had become of the girls? The idea of sharing the fate of the Amazons and have a copper ring fitted to her nose filled her with horror – no, the Princess could not be that cruel! What she wanted was a secretary, someone to talk with. After some time she would be allowed her freedom again...

The voice woke her up from her thoughts.

"Are you ready to serve the Princess, infidel woman?"

"Let me free ... I must see the Princess ... This is a mistake..."

"It is no mistake. It is Allah's will, and you must accept it. Are you ready to serve the Princess?"

Eva was going to say "no" again, but then she felt an uncontrollable need to piss. She tried to close her legs; the bar prevented her from doing that - the hot liquid felt horrible on her thighs – that was intolerable! She shuddered in horror. There was no alternative: she would agree to anything, provided that it brought release from that stinking, suffocating cell.

"Yes, I will!" She pounded the stone walls in sheer despair.

"Very well. I will tell her about your decision. And pray that she accepts your pledge – if she does not, I will not come again, except to take your corpse away."

"I will serve her! Tell her! Please!" Eva shouted – but the voice was gone.

Some time after, the door opened and a bulb was turned on, blinding her with its strong light. A tall Nubian, clad in an almost transparent tunic and sporting on her nose the ring that showed that she was one of Samira's slaves, motioned for Eva to follow her. The photographer stumbled out of the cell, trying to walk with the bar between her ankles.

"Who are you? Where am I being taken?"

But the girl did not reply – it was clear that she didn't understand a word of English. Eva's turned her head away in shame when she put her hand on her nose, as if to ward off the stench that went off from the cubicle and from the white woman's body.

The photographer was introduced in a wide bathroom, with marbled walls and a round pool in its center. She stepped into the pool and blessed the warm water that poured from the taps; there were a bar of fragrant soap, shampoo, a washcloth – Eva scrubbed every inch of her skin, under the eyes of the African girl, until all the dirt and bad smells were gone. She was handed a towel and a tunic that went down to her calves, leaving exposed her ankles and the bar between them.