Neema – The Warrior Princess

A young woman in her mid-twenties called out "bam bam" from her hut. Victory cheers erupted all over the village. Every man and woman stopped to put their fingers in their mouth and let out an undulating victory cheer. The emotion of the whole village cheering was riveting. The skin tingled. Antsy anticipation stomped the feet to take action. One was thrust out of one's thoughts to experience oneness.

"bam bam" meant that the man in the hut had a boner. An erection was caused to celebrate because it meant fertility. The tribe depended on pumping out a steady flow of babies. The land was fertile. The bounties were plenty. The only limit was our size. Every new tribe member contributed a unique skill or took on a special role. An erection happened when the fertility goddess sent a benevolent spirit. The benevolent spirits kept flowing around our village. They often came in clusters. When one arrived, the women often became anxious with anticipation of a whole herd of fertility spirits descending on the village. And they often did.

The young woman in her mid-twenties was Chantee. She quickly started moaning and crying. Such sounds very familiar among the tribes. It was like listening to radio. Some had a more beautiful sex voice than others. Some were short little intermissions of the day. Other went wailing on for an hour, telling a whole ballad over the smacking sound of skin smacking against each other. We didn't need stories about storks and bees. From our early days, we saw our parents having sex in the hut. It's how we prepared for life.

If a man went without an erection for a whole moon, the whole tribe would gather to do a bam bam dance, the equivalent of a rain dance. The man would be situated on a big rock in the center of the village. The women would hold hands in a circle around him. They'd dance around the rock. They'd throw their clothes at him. They'd wiggle their boobs. They'd bent over away from him to make their pussies and show between their thighs.

After an hour or so of bawdy dancing without invoking bam bam, a woman would break hands with the circle to get on her knees and suck the limp penis. Her hand would cradle his balls. Fingers would find their way into his asshole. Pinches would squeeze his nipples. The woman would use all of her charms. Another woman would push her away eager to try her magic recipe. The entire tribe to turns taking his dick in their mouths.

The woman that succeeded would be crowned the warrior princess for a night. Neema would have to walk up to her. Neema would paint her ceremonial symbols on that girl's body. Then, Neema would wipe the symbol off her own body. For a night, Neema was a commoner girl. The regular boys were allowed to flirt with her and tease her. For one night, she was no longer offlimits. Shamee had been the regular boy whose advances she liked. He'd lick her nipples and taste her lips. She enjoyed being one of the commoner girls. She enjoyed being teased and roughhoused. It made her feel vulnerable and surrendered to the situation. When the sun came up the next morning, Shamee had to keep a polite reverent distance again.

If the man didn't get a bam bam after a second hour, the men had to take over. A man would place his penis into the mouth of the hapless man. Quite a few man got a bam bam from that. The tribe took it natural that some men liked other men. So, the penis was kept in the mouth of the now aroused man. The woman would slide her pussy over his dick and fuck him. Even if he liked men, his seed was still needed inside of her. There was no shame to it. The tribe was accepting of sex and understanding of the need to raise more babies. The man was also allowed to be fucked by another man in the ass, as long as he fucked his wife at the same time.

That natural and healthy understanding was questioned that day. Come mid-morning, a foreign man stood at the dirt path leading into the village. He had gray and receding hair. He face looked grim with many furrows. He wore a sack as clothes. That was so foreign to us. We always had smiles, teased each other, and playfully did our duties. We liked to show our skin and erotic bodies. We liked colorful garlands and beautiful clothes. In the warm sunny day, this man stood with gloom.

Not knowing the danger he would bring, calls went out for everyone to gather at the village center. We were looking forward to hearing news from far places, good tales, and learn new skills. The man refused our offerings of the best fruit. He only drank water. He refused to sit on the stone of honor. He kneeled and started hitting himself on the back with a stick. His skin sprung open. He started bleeding.

Horror and distraught was on our faces. He was supposed to be the reason for celebration. I had been working on a new bikini with a weaving pattern that my friend Salasheia had taught me. The men had sent for a barrel of golam berry wine to be dug out of the ground. The sack clothes man didn't talk and chastised himself like we do prisoners of our enemy tribe.

"What are you doing?"

The sack clothes man explained that he was a priest. He was the priest of the only true good. The village had angered the very loving god. The god was very loving, yet the village had done so much sin that the god was very angry. Someone offered to take some of the burden from the poor suffering man by chastising himself.

The man continued that we were all sinners. All the sex we were having was hurting the god. A few of us laughed at the fake priest and called him a fool. Yet, some listened. The fake priest claimed that all the big kingdoms of the north and south had only reason to power due to the mercy of that only true god. Once we pleased him, he would make us so powerful that we would take over the entire middle land and become one kingdom. Tarish had always been power hungry. He was lapping up the tale with big hungry eyes.

The priest told us to cover up. If we had one sexual thought, we were to hurry to his place at the village line and confess. If we did anything for our pleasure and not the pleasure of the god, we also had to hurry to him to confess. We were flawed and only good for drinking water and sleeping on the rough ground. Neema's mouth was still covered with golam berries. The village priestess chased the fake priest to the village border line.

The fake priest stayed there. Tarish visited him every day. Every day more people visited him. When a woman called out "Bam bam", one of his followers would go into the hut and beat the woman. The "bam bam" calls stopped. The mood in the village grew more grim. Nobody was singing anymore. The golam berries fell to the ground overripe. When I saw the bounty of golam berries on the ground with the flies hovering over them, a sadness came to my heart.

Women that didn't cover up in a sack were beating with sticks by the man. I found my friend Salaeisha bruised and bleeding on the ground. She started covering up. For a while, I felt safe as the warrior princess. However, I could feel the eyes looking at me with anger. They were like little daggers. I could sense that they were building up their courage to go after me. I didn't know what to do. I went to our priestess in the high hut to seek counsel.

While we talked about the situation, loud yelling by the priest in the village was whipping up the crowd. From the vantage of the high hut, we could see them making a pyre of wood to burn someone. Torches were lit. The priestess looked on our people while tears streamed down her eyes.

"Tarish and the fake priest have taken over the village. They are coming for us," said the priestess.

The lynch mob started forming together to march up the path to the high hut. We slipped out of the back and ran for Drip Gareem. Drip Gareem was a ceremonial cave outside of the village boundaries. The lynch mob saw us running. They sent runners after us to catch us, strong, fast male runners. We made it to Drip Gareem just in time. There was a ceremonial line around the entrance of the cave. The cave was on flat land and went underground. The runners were too afraid to cross the ceremonial line.

The lynch mob arrived with the fake priest at the lead. Nobody dared to cross the ceremonial line. They were still scared of the old gods as well. The priest yelled and pleased. Nobody would cross the line. The fake priest crossed the line himself. I raised my bow high to show him that I'd skewer him. I saw the fear in his eyes. He was afraid to die. He was afraid to meet his god or perhaps didn't even belief that his god was real. He stepped back behind the ceremonial line.

The fake priest left guards behind to catch us should we step outside of the ceremonial site. We slipped out one night. We still had supporters that helped us slip away. The priestess and I were waiting for my twenty first birthday. For almost three years, we were running and hiding. Scavenging food and staying out of the dragnet of scouts was a daily challenge. It hardened us and gave us strength. Keep beating the Nameeb people, and you'll forge the strongest blade that ever lived!

My mission was to complete the ceremony and return as a queen. I was to bring sexy back.

That morning in the dreadnoughtus shit, Neema woke up from sweet slumber. She had the sweetest dream of Shamee eating her pussy. She had pushed his curly-haired head deeper between her thighs. His nose was pushing against her clitoris and rubbing her just right. The arousal from the dreadnoughtus shit had become a more familiar feeling. The erogenous zones of her mind started getting acclimated to it. She still felt warm and wet, yet she could also think some clear thoughts. As good and cozy as her little shit cave felt, she was on a mission. She had to ride a dreadnoghtus. To ride one, she had to find one first. More precisely, the priestess had taught her to lure a dreadnoughtus.

So, Neema crawled out of the opening of her shit cave. She was covered from head to toe in black and smelled like dreadnoughtus, which she liked immensely and made her very happy. With a keen sense of adventure, she looked at the granite mountain in the center of Pink Colladron Valley. She climbed over rocks, meandered under lush green trees, and traversed gurgling creeks. The creek water and sweet slowly washed over parts of dreadnoughtus shit. Other parts dried and became hard crusted plates that felt good on her skin. Eventually, when they dried completely, they crumbled off her skin. They felt like a yellow straw like texture, once dried completely.

Flying dinosaurs with pelican like bills were circling in the updraft thermals of the granite rock face. They were scanning the rock face for mountain mice that lived in tunnels in the mountain and foraged on the plants that grew in little rock cracks and dirt perches on the mountain face. They'd whisk out to steal a few seeds from a kanara plant and rush back into the tunnel before a flying dinosaur could snap them up.

The kanara plant had thick tubers that are a delicates for the dreadnoughtus. Yet, the dreadnoughtus cannot climb to reach them on the mountain face. Kanara tubers are like catnip for dreadnoughtus. They'll do about anything to get them and then go completely nuts. Having a 200 ton animal go completely nuts is rather hazardous to trees and about anything. Though, that was her coming of age trial.

There was a climbing route that seemed easy enough. It had big holds. There was a narrow ledge at the top. The end of the narrow ledge ended up a flat rocky spot that showed plenty of purple kanara flowers. The width of the spot suggested a deep dirt pool. There should be some well-endowed kanara tubers.

Neema did the climb pretty effortlessly. The kanara flower had big, purple hexagons as petals. There was a yellow center to the flower. The body of the plant was a thick green that seemed to grow to cover everything underneath it. She pushed on the bulky stem. It was squishy with water from a recent rain stored to live on without any access to ground water. The plant felt a little furry, yet firm in her hand. She pulled on the stem. A root with many red ball shaped tubers came out. They were about the size of a radish. She squeezed one. At first, it was a little hard. Only the skin was a little tough. Once the skin burst, the whole contents spilled out, a red juice ran down her hand and dripped onto the floor. It smelled mustardy and peppery, rather savory unlike the sweets that humans crave.

She put her left index and middle finger on her pussy to spread the lips open. The right hand slipped a kanara tuber into her pussy. She squeezed her pussy floor hard. The kanara tuber popped and red juice ran out of her pussy and down the insides of her thigh. She pushed the next kanara tuber in her pussy, clenched her cheeks against her eyes as she pressed hard. That tuber popped as well and sent red juice running down the inside of her thighs. Popping the tubers felt like popping bubble wrap. There was a joy of success and completion in popping them.

Her fingers were red with juice. Her legs were covered in deep red. She couldn't even see her pussy lips anymore, so much red opaque juice covered her. Because most of the tuber was juice that ran out of her, her pussy could accommodate a lot of kanara tubers. She had to pop them one at a time because two gave her too much resistance. Her pussy was filling up with kanara flesh and skin. She could feel that the tubers filled every cranny of her pussy. The tubers wanted to come out. So, she had to cup her pussy tunnel with her left hand, carefully slip another tuber in before the others could fall out, and squeeze hard. She could feel the space under her belly button filling up. In fact, her belly looked more distended. Her pussy was full of dreadnoughtus bait.

She had to cup her pussy with the left hand on the whole down climb. The dreadnoughtus bait wanted to fall out with every step. She could feel the skins moving around in her belly, pressing heavy on one place and slipping into another place. It was a burden that made her feel full. From the base the mountain, she walked towards the tallest tree in few. It was a terrace tree. Every ten feet or so, it had a round canopy of leaves going round it. In between the canopies was only the bare trunk.

At the foot of the terrace tree was the big flat ceremonial stone. The engravings told her how to lie on the stone, stretch her arms and legs out. Thus, naked with faint brown color from the dreadnoughtus shit on her body, deeply red stains down her legs, and mustardy-pepper smell intensely in her pussy, she was lying outstretched. The stone was tilted, so that her head was lower and the kanara bait wouldn't fall out of her pussy. She lay still waiting for the dreadnoughtus to take her.

The sun was warm on her naked skin. The blood rushing to her head made her temples pound. The first thing she felt was the ground vibrating softly. The vibration kept growing steadily until her teeth chattered and her head bounced hard on the stone with each stomping step of the dreadnoughtus. Panic arose in her. Her heart started pounding.

Her nerves wanted to run. Yet, the priestess had warned her not to run. A dreadnoughtus could easily snap her in two. She would never outrun it. The dreadnoughtus would never let go of the kanara bait even if it meant that it'd die. She had to lie very still. She had to be soft and gentle, so that the dreadnougtus would suck on her rather than nipple. His teeth were the size of a person. He had to think of her as something to lick on, not to crunch on. She had to be completely limber. The tension was too much. She closed her eyes.

The tremblors in the ground and sense of presence kept growing. A few times, she jerked thinking that dreadnoughtus was over her only to steady herself: "You have to be completely relaxed to survive." She let her arms flow open. She inhaled fresh air for a last time and another last time.

An hour of terror had passed until she could feel the sun darken over her. The dreadnoughtus was towering over her. She opened her eyes as a reflex. He looked at her yellow eyes the size of a hut. The skin was slick, yet scaly like a reptilian. Birds were flying around the body of the dreadnoughtus. "It's too late. You have to go with it," she told herself and closed her eyes again to try to relax her body.

She could feel the presence of the head coming closer to her. Then, she could feel the breath, like a mini-wind blowing down on her. She smelled that scent that she had smelled in the shit in a fresher version. The shade of the monster brought a coolness. The body heat brought a warmness. The beast was so big that it created its own microclimate. She felt the nostril gently pressing on her. If it inhaled too hard, it could have easily sucked her into her lungs.

There was a pause, as if it were thinking for a moment. Then, the lips darted down on her. She felt the tongue pressing on the side of her body. It was like an ocean wave taking over her body like a rag doll. The inside of the mouth felt, soft, warm and slippery. The saliva was extremely sweet and delicious. Compared to the shit, it was very fresh. It had the same neuro-chemical that aroused her. The tongue had a smooth edge that she could straddle with her legs. She clenched her body around the edge. She pressed her boobs against it. She started suckling on the saliva on the tongue. It tasted so good. Her whole body felt so good. Hungrily, like catnip for her, she lapped up the dreadnoughtus saliva.

She held onto the smooth tongue edge with all her might to lick the saliva faster. Yet, the mucous skin was so slick that she kept sliding along the edge. The edge rubbed against her pussy a sexual way. She was rubbing her sex against the tongue. Without realizing, she tilted her pelvis forward to get more pressure against the tongue edge that was fucking her. At the same time, the dreadnoughtus was going crazy to suck the kanara tubers out of her pussy. It kept wiggling its tongue and moving her around. They were both catnip for each other. And all the action caused a lot of pussy rubbing.

Neema had to stay cautious of the teeth. She had seen the giant scares on her mother and grandmother. Only a little nibble of those teeth would crush her. The dreadnoughtus pushed her against the rough of the tongue to get another angle at her pussy to get another drop of kanara juice out of her. This was too close to the back molar. Neema had to let go of her hold on the tongue edge.

She found herself helpesssly sliding around the center of the tongue while the dreadnoughtus pushed her up down, forward and backward to get her to release more kanara bait. The center of the tongue had giant papillae. They were the size of handles. Flat on her belly, she glid over the surface of papillae. Then, the surprising happened. Her pussy caught on one. The papillae slipped right into her pussy. The stopper in her pounding hole stopped her sliding movement on a dime. And it felt so delicious to have her whole filled when she was so horny.

When she clenched her pelvic floor muscles, she could hold onto the papillae, so that she couldn't even slide forward. She could hold herself in place with her pussy like a rodeo rider. The dreadnoughtus tried to move her around the mouse to get more kanara out of her. It welled the tongue up and down, yet Neema held onto the papillae with her pussy. The violence of tongue action caused the papillae to slide inside and outside of her pussy despite her clamping down the pelvic floor muscle. The rubbing aroused her. The entire taste and smell of the dreadnoughtus saliva had her in a mad, sexy frenzy.

The dreadnoughtus tongue would squeeze her against the roof of the mouth. That squeezed her wet butt cheeks against the roof. Then, the tongue would recede down. She had to hold on tight because the pulling motion wanted to pull the papilla out of her pussy. While she clenched her teeth in an effort to squeeze her pussy harder, she knew that the bottom of the mouth would hit soon. At that point, the movement would violently stop and the papilla would get thrust to its full depth into her pussy. It hurt in an erotic way to have her pussy rammed so deeply, a little too deep. That sensation made her moan and involuntarily let go of the grip while the primal rush of sexual stimulation overwhelmed her nervous system. She knew that she had to quickly regain her control when the momentary involuntary relaxation reflex released. So, she clamped her pussy down again for more pussy pounding.