The Realm of the Fighting Ladies Pt. 01

"Now pay attention, Kango. You will stroke yourpatias you are used to, and it will certainly spurt out a huge load. But this has to be replaced as quickly as possible. Therefore, I will not give my milk into your mouth, but here, nearer to the place it has to go - your balls." He spread out a finger and inserted it in the small hole between the lad's buttocks, pushing it lightly to gauge his reaction. Kango frowned and made a movement forward to escape from the intruding finger.

"Move back and stay quiet, Kango!"

The African shuddered.

"Why Master put finger in Kango?"

"To see how tight your back door is."

"Kango no want Master'spatithere."

Rodrigo held his breath. That was the first time that the African had refused to comply with something he wanted him do to. Should he press further? The small, tight hole in front of him promised exquisite sensations for his dick. Besides, he was not accustomed to being refused something by a Negro. Rodrigo thought of slapping his butt and speaking firmly, but a better idea occurred to him: it was time for some bluffing.

"All right. Go ahead and stroke yourself. But this will mean the end of your treatment. I have seen men dying in atrocious agony because their balls were emptied and no milk came to replace the juice they had lost. It is your choice."

Kango shivered. During the previous days, he had learned so much from the white man: stories about distant lands and different peoples, but also how to wash and hang clothes, how to bring him his food on a small wooden plank, and other things that no other in his tribe dreamed of. He had helped Master to heal some wounds, and even cut the cord from a baby that was having a hard time to come out from his mother's womb.

So far he had trusted Master's wisdom, and it had paid off: except for the constant itching on his dick he was feeling well – and that was a sign that the medicine was working. Why spoil all that now? He took a deep breath and spread his buttocks, exposing once more the round hole between them.

"That hurt, Master?"

Rodrigo grinned.

"A bit, Kango, but I will do it gently. In time, you will get used to the sensation. Now take care of yourpatiand be sure to spurt into the bowl, so we can examine your juice and know if the medicine is being good for you."

The African wrapped his right hand around his cock and began to slide it up and down. He felt as the Portuguese lubed his hole with some saliva and, grabbing firmly his waist, introduced his tip into him; the brushing against his walls was strange, but not disagreeable. He was so aroused that he took less than one minute to release a sizable amount into the bowl; he kept stroking, though, as his member was still stiff.

Rodrigo pushed in very carefully. The asshole was tight and warm, and the pleasure of fucking it quite different from what he knew from his experience with women. He thrust his hips forward and said:

"Kango, move back and forth, but with care, and keep stroking yourself. You can jerk off as much as you want, for my milk will go into you and replace the amount that goes out."

Kango did as he was told, making the cock slide more into his anus. Rodrigo felt the smooth musculature squeezing his cock as it slithered inch by small inch into that dark tunnel. Kango was surprised at how aroused he was by that sensation; he spurted another load into the bowl, while Rodrigo accelerated his moves and leaned on the young man's back. Kango was satisfied and wanted to stop, hut the doctor told him to stay still – his cock was twitching, he could feel the tension going up his shaft – he held firmly Kango's shoulders – and suddenly he exploded in him, filling his asshole with a strong jet of sticky, warm cum.

He stayed for a while inside the Kimbundo, enjoying the agreeable sensation, until his member went limp. Taking it from the hole, he told Kango to clean himself, feigned to examine the white cream that filled half of it, and made a grimace.

"Hum. Can you feel how this smells strange, Kango?"

Kango sniffed the bowl; he had never smelled his own cum, so the could not tell if it smelled differently. He stared at the white man, a puzzled expression on his face.

"Perhaps you don't notice it, but it smells sour. This means that the medicine has worked a little, but we are far from healing you." Rodrigo was not prepared to part with those delicious morning massages.

"Fetch my boots, Kango, and some leaves. I will teach you a new thing."

The African went out of the hut and returned with a small bundle of leaves; he grabbed the boots and squatted by the doctor's feet as he was used to do when being taught some new task.

"Dip them in the bowl, rub them on the boots, and you will see them shining like your skin when you go out from the stream."

He reclined against the hut wall and watched as Kango scrubbed vigorously, spreading the creamy substance on the boots. He was still leaning on his heels; his limp cock was perfectly visible, an impressive piece of black flesh. Rodrigo smiled as he noticed how the young man held the boot between his legs, his long, snake-like member occasionally touching the leather.

"Kango, Kango ... You have got what you wanted. Finish this quickly and put your breeches on. I want to walk to the limits of your area; perhaps we will meet a Talunga. I am curious to see what they look like."

Kango's eyes opened wide in amazement.

"Master, that big danger! Talunga very bad women!"

"Don't worry. I will be with you."

Kango shook his head.

"Master, Kango has seen Talunga and Master has not. Big danger!"

The Portuguese played the trump he knew would win.

"You don't want to come? Go and call Nakumbu. I am sure he wants a pair of breeches like yours."

The mention of another lad's name brushed away any hesitation from Kango. As he buttoned his breeches, Rodrigo took a musket and some ammunition. It was better to be prepared, in case the "tall women" proved hostile. He put in a bag his compass, the eyeglass, a pack of dried biscuits, and told Kango to fill his canteen with fresh water. When all was ready, the African put the bag on his shoulder and they set off.

After some hours, they emerged from the jungle into a wide plain, where the vegetation was lower. There were trees scattered here and there. They walked in silence; Rodrigo was thinking if it was wise to ascertain once for all his authority over the young Negro. He was worried with what had happened earlier, when he had objected to being penetrated, and with his hesitation to follow him in his expedition. He made up his mind:

"Kango."

"Yes, Master?"

"When the Fighting Ladies come to pick workers from your tribe, how do they choose them?"

"Strong men and pretty girls, Master. This is what Ladies want. All nut have come of age."

"So you and Nakumbu can be picked."

"Yes, Master."

"And what do you prefer: to go and work for them or to stay with me?"

Kango made an expression of surprise. He had never put such a question to himself; from the time of his the grandfather of his grandfather's grandfather, his tribe furnished workers for the Fighting Ladies in exchange for being protected from the Talunga. But what were they supposed to do in their village? No one had ever come back to tell. Now that Master had mentioned it, the idea of staying by his side instead of going to an unknown place, to perform tasks that were perhaps dangerous, seemed very attractive.

"Kango want stay with Master!"

"Very well. But you must understand that when I give you an order, whatever it is –whatever, do you hear me? - it has to be carried out at once. Nothing upsets me more than disobedience."

"Kango do what Master say", the Negro replied, surprised.

"Not always. Today you didn't want to get my milk where I said it had to be given, and when I said that we were going to find the Talunga you hesitated to come."

The young Kimbundo lowered his head. Master was speaking the truth.

Rodrigo waited for a while before speaking again:

"If you promise not to do this again, I can speak on your behalf when the Ladies come to your village. But if you disobey your master again, I will look for another servant." Rodrigo had employed for the first time words that, even with a euphemism, defined the relationship between him and the African. He watched keenly his face; there was no sign of his feeling offended or humiliated by the word "servant".

"Kango not do that again, Master."

Rodrigo stopped under a tree; they were on the top of a small slope, at the bottom of which a narrow stream flowed calmly.

"I want a formal promise, in the way it is done in my land. Kneel down and put your forehead to the ground."

Kango put the bag on a branch and did as he was being told. Rodrigo put his foot on the young man's head and said:

"Repeat these words, Kango:I will serve my master faithfully."

"I will serve my master faithfully."

Rodrigo went on, inventing the most binding oath he could think of.

"I will go wherever he sends me, obey his every order, and protect him from all danger."

"I will go wherever he sends me, obey his every order, and protect him from all danger", Kango repeated.

"If I fail, let the bad spirits take my heart and may my body rotten under the sun."

"If I fail, let the bad spirits take my heart and may my body rotten under the sun." The young man's voice trembled a bit as he said that.

"Good. Now rise up. I am hungry; can you catch some fish for our lunch?"

"Sure, Master!"

"Then go. I will wait here."

Kango removed his breeches, walked cautiously down the sloped shore and waded into water. He swam with his butt up, his sac showing and disappearing between his legs as they opened and closed. Rodrigo watched from the shore; he was pleased at the turn things were taking. He had already succeeded in making Kango pleasure him with his mouth and ass, and his training to perform basic tasks was going quite well. His tribe was accustomed to see themselves as potential serfs to the Fighting Ladies. Why not take advantage from that and turn him into a model slave?

Kango had his knife in hand; suddenly, he dived and surfaced with a sizable fish in its tip. His body glistened with the drops as he emerged from the creek:

"Master, thisbungafish, good to roast!"

"Very good, Kango! I am impressed! Now make a fire and prepare it."

The lad made a small pyramid with twigs and leaves; leaning on his heels, he began to rub two twigs. Soon a small flame appeared; he blew on it carefully, kindled a fire and put the fish to roast on an improvised spike.

They ate in silence. Kango was pondering on what had just happened. Could Master persuade the Ladies not to take him with the other Kimbundo, when they came to his village? The courage test, and the rituals of fertility for the girls, had taken place a few weeks before; their visit was due any time now. Kango remembered well the scene: one or two white ladies on horseback, surrounded by a squad of Talunga. They would call Kashimbo and have that year's better boys and girls line up. The chosen ones would fetch their things and march away; the whole thing took less time than it was required to milk a she-goat.

As he was putting again Rodrigo's bag on his head, he froze with terror and pointed to a tree:

"Master, that big danger!Sucuri! That roll on man and kill him!"

Rodrigo fetched his musket, focused on the snake and pulled the trigger, killing it instantly. Kango shouted in terror at the explosion and threw himself to on the ground, covering his head with his hands. Rodrigo touched his butt with the tip of his boot:

"Up, Kango! The snake is dead."

The lad rose up, awestruck. What was that thing that in Master's hand? He had seen spears -every Talunga carried one – and he knew that the Fighting Ladies shot with bows and arrows. His tribe was not allowed either, as the Ladies reserved the use of weapons for themselves and for their soldiers. He walked to the snake and touched it: it was dead.

"Master has fire arrow?" he asked naively.

"Yes, this is a thing to shoot fire arrows", Rodrigo said, adopting the colorful name Kango had invented. "This will protect Kango from Talunga, too."

They resumed their walking; the sun was going down when they approached a steep hill.

"Kimbundo not allowed go over hill. Talunga on other side. But Master want go, Kango go with Master", he said emphatically.

"This is what I expected from such a brave young man", Rodrigo said approvingly. "Let's find a place to sleep; tomorrow we will climb the hill and see what happens."

***

The morning was already turning into noon when reached the hilltop. Rodrigo took his eyeglass and scanned the plain below: a wide road cut it in two, at as almost perpendicular angle from the base of the hill. There was no Talunga in sight. They walked slowly down; Kango's heart was jumping in his chest - Master had the fire arrows, right, but would that be enough to stop the Talunga? Never had he head of a Kimbundo trespassing without permission the limits set by the Fighting Ladies.

And then Rodrigo saw. Two girls were coming in their direction with their spears aimed at them. They were at least two heads taller than he; their breasts were covered with a stripe of leopard skin, a small skirt made from the same material hid their sex, and a small dagger dangled from the string that held it in place. Rodrigo estimated quickly their age: they could not be older than Kango. Their skin was a bright tone of black, their legs long and well shaped; their prominent buttocks and narrow waist made Rodrigo think of a guitar. But their expression was not friendly at all.

"Go back!" one of the girls shouted. "Who you? Kimbundo no walk into big road."

"I am called Master and this is my slave Kango", the Portuguese said, aiming his musket at the girl nearest to him. "We are not going beyond limits. I just want to see what you Talunga look like." He smiled: Kango had thrown himself to the ground at the sight of the girls, and was covering his head with his hands.

The woman stopped and conferred in a low voice. Rodrigo waited: the creatures were really extraordinary. Not only were they taller than any human being he had ever met; they seemed exceptionally strong and in good shape. Any commander would like to have them in his army.

"Back", grumbled one of the girls, waving her spear in a threatening gesture.

Rodrigo was going to reply when another Talunga appeared. Rodrigo noticed with amazement that she topped her sisters by another head, making her height more than seven feet from toe to skull. One of her eyes was closed, her breasts were bare, and she had no weapons. Her face was badly bruised, and a line of dry blood crossed her lap near the right shoulder.

"What happened to you, Mkomo?" one of the girls asked.

"Dismissed", the girl replied. "Awana say, Mkomo must go."

"Why? What happened to your eye?"

The giantess opened her eyelid: the orbit was empty.

"We training, Mkomo fell down on rock. Eye jumped out; much blood, eye not go back. Awana very angry, say - Mkomo give spear, dagger, breastmulambu." Thick tears rolled over her face.

Rodrigo approached her.

"Kneel down, Mkomo. Let me see your eye."

The giantess looked surprised. She had seen fair-skinned men in the Fighting Ladies' town, and none had ever spoken to her like that. But she was still under the shock of the disgrace that had befallen her; her mind, already a bit feeble by nature, was even more confused. She knelt down and let the man examine her.

Rodrigo knew that there was nothing to be done: the eye was gone. The bruises were light, but the cut had to be cleaned, or infection would ensue. He turned to the Talunga:

"Where can I find water? This has to be washed."

"There is a source over there."

"Let's go."

The girl hesitated, then said:

"White man and Kimbundo can go to source, if this help Mkomo. But have to go back after that."

"We will", Rodrigo said. "We don't want to upset the Ladies."

"Druna and Aisha go now", the girl said. "When come back here, white man and Kimbundo no here any more."

"Agreed."

The Talunga took their spears and resumed their patrolling. As they walked past Rodrigo, he saw with some surprise that their butts were naked; the leopard skin covered only the front of their bodies. He licked his lips at the sight of those perfect cheeks, wondering what it would be like to insert his cock between them.

They walked to the source. Kango was impressed by the way Master had handled the Talunga. He had been surprised to be called a slave, but refrained from asking why: he was still scared to be so near a Talunga, even without a spear and wounded. He kept a watchful eye on her, and squatted at a prudent distance when the doctor began to examine the girl's cut.

Rodrigo took some water and washed the dry blood out of the Nubian's lap. The cut was wide, but not deep; with proper care, it would heal in a few days. He profited from the occasion to feel her breasts; they were full and pointed up, their buttons protruding from the lighter areolas. The Talunga let him do; she was feeling humiliated by having been expelled from Awana's squad, and that man seemed kind: instead of ridiculing her because of her lost eye, he was taking care of her – something that neither Awana or her sisters had done.

Rodrigo finished his washing and told Kango to get some wide leaves, with which he made a bandage going under the giantess' armpit.

"You will be OK, Mkomo. Now tell me, what will become of you?"

The girl stared at him with her sole eye.

"Mkomo cannot go back to Talunga village. Big shame on Mkomo. Mkomo no place to go."

Rodrigo put his hand under his chin and reflected for an instant. That woman was a warrior, but had now become a sort of outcast. She was momentarily fragile; if he could find a way to tame her, she could become his second slave – and a female one would be much more appropriate than Kango to please him. An idea flashed in his head: why not take her as his ... mount? She seemed strong enough to bear him on her shoulders; if he could somehow coax her into accepting, that would surely impress the Kimbundo – and perhaps even the fearsome Ladies, when he finally met one. The sheer idea of riding her, six feet above ground, made his cock twitch inside his pants. He glanced at her: her whole body gave the impression of having been carved out of black stone.

Rodrigo lifted the girl's chin:

"Mkomo, I have a proposition for you. You don't have anywhere to go: why don't you come with me?"

The girl's eye opened wide. That was quite unexpected!

"With you? What for?"

"You are a very strong Talunga. You cannot fight any more for the Ladies, but there is something you can do. Have you ever carried anyone on your shoulders?"

"No!"

"Well, you could begin now. I am not used to walk such long distances. If you agree, you will be rewarded when we arrive at the Kimbundo village. Let's put it like this: try doing it while your cut heals. If you don't like, you will be free to leave. Just for some days, huh?"

The giantess was startled. She had never heard of anybody carrying a person on shoulders. The Ladies rode horses, not a Talunga! On the other hand, she really had nowhere to go; she had thought of starting a lonely life in the wilderness, but that had been on the spur of the moment. Some wild beast could kill her – she was unarmed, as she had had to surrender her spear when leaving Awana's squad. And there were the bad spirits; she was more scared of them than of lions and panthers – what if one appeared by night? That man was offering her a reasonable deal. What could she lose?