Legacy Pt. 01

Dumisane was not idle. He lapped the length of her nether lips. She felt the tip of his nose dip into her sex, and she shuddered when his tongue touched her sensitive nub.

Nandi engulfed the head of his cock in her mouth, suckling at it like a baby. His length swelled before her eyes, until it was fully engorged.

Nandi moaned as Dumisane began to concentrate on her nub with his tongue. Meanwhile, his finger squelched, plunging deep into her hot cunt. She began to stroke him as she sucked harder, willing his semen into her throat.

But her orgasm was coming on fast, and her movements became increasingly erratic. She moaned around his cock. Her thighs trembled against him.

Nandi gave a muffled cry as she came, waves of bliss flooding her senses. She barely noticed him sliding out from under her. She was still shaking as Dumisane took her from behind, his thick cock plunging into the clutching walls of her sex.

She eased her head down on the soft cowskin, opening herself fully to him. Dumisane held onto her hips and rocked her on his shaft with powerful, steady strokes. Nandi felt as if she never stopped coming. She mewled into the mat as he plowed her spasming cunt.

Nandi reached another crest before Dumisane cried out and came, shooting his seed deep into her core. They collapsed, lying flat even as he pulsed weakly inside of her. She fell into a deep sleep.

She woke what must have been hours later, with the half-moon overhead, from a delicious dream. Dumisane was atop her, kissing her neck. Still groggy, Nandi realized she was no longer dreaming. He was rutting her, and she was dripping wet. She wrapped her ankles around his butt as he surged into her. This time, his thrusts were tender and slow. Her fingers dug into the muscles of his broad back, urging him on.

Soft cries and moans came from elsewhere in the kraal. Nandi and Dumisane were not the only ones awake.

Her hands explored his spine, and slipped down to the powerful muscles of his buttocks. Grasping hold, she dragged him deeper inside her until he groaned and shuddered through his climax.

He rolled off of her. They lay for a while, close together, breath mingling, until she thought he was asleep.

"We have two days," she said, softly.

"What must we do?" he asked.

"I will go to Lulathe in the morning," she said. "You will need to cover for me here, when the boys come. The next morning, I will return."

"And on the third day, we will slip away together," he said, "and never return."

"Are you willing to risk your life for this, Dumisane?"

Dumisane reached for her hand. Their fingers intertwined, as tight as a weave. He gazed into her eyes, as sober as the grave, and nodded.

This was madness. Nandi was beginning to realize what she must do, and she didn't think she could.

But she felt the solidity of him, felt the courage in his beating heart, and she knew that she had to try. Perhaps for herself as much as for him.

Well before dawn, she rose, dressed, and washed a bit. She kissed Dumisane. She picked her way carefully through the stockade, stepping over sleeping couples who stank of sorghum and honey beer.

Nandi didn't fear wild animals. While her witch-blood was up, even predators would leave her alone, and she knew the orange feral still awaited her out on the veld. Still, she took one of the clubs from the rack near the gate, a slender rod with a knob of heavy wood carved on the end.

As Nandi turned toward the gate, she realized where she had seen the face from the night before. She glanced back to see the woman, who slept in the arms of one of the drovers. Her thick braided locks mostly covered her shoulders. But as Nandi peered closely, she recognized the myriad scars on the woman's skin, black leopard-like spots on brown. A shiver of dread fluttered down her spine.

It was one of Nandi's cousins.

**

The day was just breaking as her hut came into view, though the sky had gone mostly cloudy overnight. As she saw the thornbush fence amongst the trees, Nandi realized how precarious her life had been in the three years since her husband, Kwezi, had left her. They were beyond the border of ancestral stones around Murutse, because she'd convinced Kwezi he had nothing to fear from demons.

She felt shame for that, considering what had happened.

Nandi couldn't just run. Lulathe would hunt them down, just as she had tracked down Kwezi. Her cousin had certainly seen her rutting in front of everyone last night, and when Nandi disappeared, the woman would surely inform on her. Lulathe would know who Nandi was with and where they ran from.

She opened the woodcut gate and looked around the little yard to make sure everything was in order. The dog followed her in, sniffing at the woodpile and her little garden.

Nandi set down her basket and got water from the cistern to bathe. She stripped off her skirt and halter. She stood in a large bowl to collect the water, and began to wipe herself down. Her inner thighs, down to her ankles, were streaked with semen and the sticky, fragrant remnant of her own juices.

As she washed, she recalled the final confrontation between Lulathe and Kwezi, in this yard, three years before.

Nandi's great aunt had swept through the gate like a gust of wind, in her caftan and tall headdress, smoking pipe hanging between her lips and a phallic figurine in her hand. Kwezi left the hut to face her, even though Nandi tried to warn him. He demanded the old woman's respect, threatened to go to the town elders to get his sons back. Nandi feared he would even dare to strike Lulathe.

Then the kukuru burst in, knocking the gate off its hinge, its spiral horns like sickle blades. The demon dwarfed Kwezi, and as it stood over her husband, Nandi saw urine trickle down his legs. The old witch explained to him that if he wished to go on living, he would never speak a word of this or his children, and never be seen in Murutse again.

Nandi watched, cowering within the doorway to the hut, afraid to even make her presence known. Within moments, her husband had fled. And she heard that he later told one of the elders that Lulathe had taken his sons away.

After Kwezi ran from the hut, Lulathe said a single word.

"Babalanotswe," she uttered. The demon turned to smoke, and was sucked into the summoning stone the old witch held.

As Nandi relived what had happened those three rains ago, she kneaded scented oil into her skin. The dog barked. Nandi realized the tokoloshe was standing nearby, watching her bathe and stroking itself. A puddle of semen pooled on the ground at its knobby feet. Nandi set her jaw in resolve.

"I have a task for you," she said to the little demon.