The Realm of the Fighting Ladies Pt. 02

"Ladies like girls", Maiungu said. She was the only one to have been to the town, as the brand on her left lobe showed.

"Much pain when ear pierced?" Kizumbu asked. She was still worried by that strange thing.

"Hurt but not much. White man do it quick."

Maiunga touched the metal ring that rimmed the inside of the hole on her left ear. It had become almost a part of her body now, and she seldom thought of it, even when she looked at herself on a mirror.

"Pukari, Kimbundo, Shanti, all have this in Ladies' village", she said matter-of-factly.

They road became less steep, and soon they attained the plateau where the Amazon's capital was situated. Simona ordered a halt: she did not want to fatigue excessively the Negroes, as it was only the first day of their journey. Some slaves were sent to gather fruits and water; the servants had brought cold meat and other food from the party for them and their masters.

After the frugal meal, a circle formed around a Pukari and a Shanti who were arm-wrestling. Rodrigo stood up to watch the contest, but the Amazons seemed uninterested. The lads had straddled a fallen tree and grabbed each other's hand. Their muscles stuck out from the arms, and sweat covered their foreheads: each was putting all his strength to push his opponent's arm, but in spite of their effort none moved an inch.

They remained so for some minutes; then the Shanti made a quick movement and pulled down the Pukari's arm. The brown skinned lad reacted, pushing slowly upwards and forcing down his adversary's wrist until it almost touched the trunk. The Shanti bit his lips and pushed back; now their arms were upright again. That was their last movement; they stayed motionless, faces contorted, necks and backs tense with the effort. They could have remained so for a long time, but the arrival of a Talunga brought the competition to an abrupt end.

The rest period was over. Awana had risen up and was putting her foot on the stirrup formed by Druna's hands. The other Amazons mounted their horses Rodrigo called Mkomo, the guards rounded up the slaves, and they resumed their journey.

The day was already well advanced, and the doctor was feeling bored by having to travel in silence. He flickered Mkomo's reins and moved her towards the Amazons.

"May I bother you with some questions, Awana? I always learn a lot from your replies."

"Go ahead. What do you want to know?"

"I noticed that the youths who were arm-wrestling belong to different tribes. Do they work together well, or are there rivalries among them?

"They like to challenge each other, and sometimes this causes serious disputes", Artemisia said. Rodrigo smiled to welcome her in the conversation.

"Our Negroes come from many tribes, and grudges among them seem never to die. One reason is that the main source of slaves are the prisoners from their wars; but the winners of today can be defeated tomorrow, and end up working side by side with those they had captured."

Artemisia raised her eyebrows: the notion of tribes fighting to make slaves was completely foreign to her mentality. Rodrigo went on:

"Masters take advantage of these tribal hates and buy individuals from different groups. They often spy on each other and denounce misdeeds. Three years ago, a rebellion was averted in Salvador because the slaves of one particular tribe betrayed it to the authorities. They were in panic: if the upheaval succeeded, so they said, the new rulers would exterminate them."

Awana shook her head, amazed.

" We don't have this problem here. On the contrary, masters often pick workers from the same tribe. It depends on what he wants them to do."

"What do you mean?"

"They have different abilities. The Shanti are vigorous and in general more spirited; they do well where strength is needed. The Pukari tend to be patient and physically resistant: they are mostly employed to till the fields. The Kimbundo are the ablest with their hands and learn fast: shoemakers, smiths and other artisans seek them as helpers."

"I've had a proof of that." They were talking in Greek, as there was no need for their servants to hear that kind of comment. Rodrigo turned to the African dialect:

"Mkomo, show the Ladies your bracelet."

Artemisia and Awana approached their horses and had a good glance at the Talunga's thick wrist.

"Very well made. Crocodile's teeth! How did you get them?" Awana asked.

Mkomo told them why Master had given her the teeth and how Nakumbu had tied them into that beautiful bracelet.

"Very faithful, my Mkomo, and courageous too – she could have left her life with that beast", Rodrigo said, and scratched affectionately under the giantess' chin. She opened a wide grin, happy to be praised.

Artemisia didn't seem impressed: that was precisely what a Talunga was supposed to do.

"Look there, a group of Pukari – I told you that they work frequently on the fields."

It was Rodrigo's turn not to be impressed: there was nothing extraordinary in a group of Negroes working on a plantation. What called his attention was the unmistakable figure of a Talunga on a mule, but without a spear, keeping watch on the Pukari.

"Do the Talunga serve also are forewomen?"

"Oh yes, we don't fight all the time! Keeping an army can be expensive", Awana said, half seriously half joking. "They are lent to anyone who needs slaves surveyed – and who does not? Their mere presence is usually very effective. And when their time in the ranks is over, many prefer to stay some more years with their boss."

"What is that?" Artemisia asked. "Someone is trotting towards us."

In fact, a white man on horseback was approaching. He pulled his mount's reins to make it stop and glanced furtively at the giantess with a collar on her neck and carrying a man who was clearly not a member of the ruling caste, yet white as him. His good manners prevented him from asking what that meant; instead, he saluted the Amazons:

"Hail, noble Ladies! I am Skalapios and this is my farm. I see that you are headed for Erimanton with this year's slaves; would you like to spend the night at my place?

Simona looked at the sky and conferred quickly with the other Amazons. There was only one more hour of daylight left, so the offer was tempting.

"Thank you, Skalapios. Do you have place also for the soldiers and the slaves?"

"They can camp in front of the house."

"Then we gladly accept your hospitality."

Simona called the squires and gave them the necessary instructions. The farmer motioned for them to enter a dirt road that separated his fields from a nearby wood. Sounds of hatchets caught Rodrigo's ears; after a bend of the way, he saw something that made him stop Mkomo and watch.

A group of Shanti was busy cutting a huge tree; other trunks, equally huge, lay at their side – they were probably finishing the task of the day. A Talunga was perched on another tree, and now Rodrigo knew why. Two Africans were pulling on a rope that had been tied to the top of the tree, while the others hit its other side with their hatchets.

The Portuguese admired their fine bodies, which matched perfectly that sort of work: strong legs, wide chests, broad shoulders, all enveloped in the black skin tinged with blue reflexes that was the mark of the tribe. He had seen trees being cut elsewhere, but never one that size, and wanted to know how the Negroes would handle the job.

The trunk inclined to the side it was being pulled to; the two Shanti went around it and joined the others, pushing with all their strength. There was a loud noise of wood cracking, and the tree came down. The Negroes severed it from its stump and ripped off the largest branches. Now it was necessary to transport the logs: they lifted one to their shoulders and made some steps, but it was evidently too heavy to be carried in that manner.

The Talunga jumped down from her tree and scratched her head while the Shanti discussed what they should do. She looked puzzled; Rodrigo waited to see how she would solve the difficulty. The farmer was still on view, some half mile away. She dashed to him; even from that distance, the Portuguese could see that the giantess was being briefed on what to do.

He lost sight of her, but soon she reappeared, this time on a mule's back and followed by four carts. At first Rodrigo did not understand how they were pulled: then he distinguished, in front of each cart, a stout Shanti. A bar had been placed across the handles, and they were pushing on it; as they approached, the Portuguese saw that they were harnessed to the vehicles by a band placed around their waists.

The Shanti parked the carts near the logs, each close to the next one. Loading the logs onto the improvised platform required a good half-hour, but finally they were accommodated. The Talunga screamed something and the harnessed Shanti started to push on the bars ahead of them, while the others took place behind the carts and pulled to help their fellows.

From where he was, Rodrigo could appreciate the immense effort needed to move such a load: in any other part of the world, four pairs of oxen would be required. The Africans who were pushing had the heaviest share: their legs worked in unison, their feet pounded together the dusty ground, muscles stuck out on arms and backs as their chests touched the bar to add pressure. Sweat dripped down their bodies, making them glisten even under the declining light. Those behind the carts had no light task, either: their biceps formed round mounds on their arms, the veins on their necks stuck out, and their shoulders bent forward to make the carts advance on the dirt trail.

The Portuguese chuckled and made a mental note to ask Awana whether the Shanti lived near the coast. If ever a ship came to rescue him, and if he could embark two dozen of those first-class males... at three hundredpatacas each, perhaps more...

His calculations were interrupted by Mkomo lowering her body and opening her legs to piss. The Talunga had waited patiently while Rodrigo watched the Shanti, but now was becoming agitated. Her respiration was louder and she kept changing her weight from one foot to the other. Another hour would probably be needed to take the wood to where it was to be stored; Rodrigo had seen what he wanted, and kicked the giantess' ribs to set her moving.

Skalapios' house was simple but spacious. The Amazons had already bathed and were waiting for him on the porch. The Portuguese dismounted and looked for something to drink. There were no jars or glasses; the Ladies and their host were sipping milk from coconuts with small straws, something he knew well from his years in Brazil.

"Tell the lads to bring Rodrigo a fruit", Awana said to Nwanze. As the girl went off, she explained:

"The slaves were unhappy because the arm-wrestling remained undecided, so they started a new competition. Fetch a straw and look there, they are starting!"

Rodrigo focused his eyes: a Kimbundo, a Shanti and a Pukari were rushing to the coconut trees that lined one of the sides of the vast area. Each climbed a tree and tried to catch a fruit; the Pukari was the first to succeed and began to climb down. The Kimbundo stretched his arm, but could not reach the nut; he held the trunk with one hand, leaned in a perilous angle and hit it with his foot, causing it to fall to ground. The lad slid down the trunk, fetched his coco and dashed to where the Talunga were. Rodrigo shuddered when the Shanti jumped down from fifteen feet high, sprinted forward and tried to reach the other two.

The coconuts had to be cut on their upper part to allow for drinking; one of the giantesses did that and the two lads dashed to the porch. But the Pukari had taken a good advantage; he and the Kimbundo arrived on the porch at practically the same time. Gasping for air, they offered the nuts to the Portuguese.

"It seems that this time the Pukari have won", Simona said. "They arrived first three times in six courses. Now go and rest; we have much to travel yet."

Skalapios invited his guests to enter the house. A pretty Kimbundo girl, whom Kango recognized, served dinner: she had left the village three or four years ago. The food was simple but tasty; the conversation turned around the last news from Erimanton, as Rodrigo found it wiser not to tell about his trips: he didn't know how his tales would be received. He noticed that Skalapios had no wife or children, and deduced that the priestesses' dice had been unfavourable to him.

He learned one useful thing, though: the Amazon still counted time by the Greek calendar. For them, that year was not 1584, but the first after the 473^rd Olympic games. He was really surprised to discover that - the Games had ended in Greece more than a thousand years before, because the Fathers of the Church considered them a heathen ritual. He wanted to know more about that fantastic continuity, but left his questions for another day: it was getting late, and they really had a lot of road to cover the next day.

The Amazons retired for the night, followed by the black girls, and Rodrigo called Kango. The lad was helping the girl from his tribe to wash the dishes. The Portuguese grinned to himself: they were clearly interested in each other. The doctor knew that because of the strict laws of the Amazons the girl could not be touched by her master; he felt inclined to let Kango have his way with her, and was going to ask Skalapios if he had any objections, when he noticed the man's eyes glued to his slave's butt.

The farmer took him aside:

"May I ask you a favor? I'd like to spend the night with this handsome Kimbundo."

Rodrigo had no option: the man had housed them and offered his best food. To turn down his request would offend him, which was both rude and stupid. The Portuguese turned to Kango and explained what the host was asking.

The Negro opened wide eyes:that?Him? His voice was panicked:

"Master – no, Master..."

Rodrigo put on his sternest expression:

"Kango, you made an oath to obey me under all circumstances."

"But Master - Kango cannot..."

"Nobut. You can and you will. Unless you want to be handed over to the Ladies as soon as we arrive to Erimanton."

That threat was more than Kango was prepared to put with. His face was hot with shame: what would the white man ask from him? But Master had been quite clear. He lowered his head and sighed. Rodrigo felt sorry for him – he had begun to like the Kimbundo, who was careful with his tasks and gave him a lot of pleasure every day. He shrugged: that was the only thing to do. His interests came before those of his slave's.

"All right, Skalapios. He is yours for tonight."

The farmer's eyes gleamed with a lustful light as he motioned to Kango to follow him. Rodrigo bit his lips: he had counted on the Negro for a good sucking before going to bed, but he was no longer available. It was not a good moment to go after Awana. He had but one choice: Mkomo.

***

After Kizumbu's daring attempt to escape, the Talunga were taking no chances with the Negroes: shifts had been organized to keep an eye on them. Rodrigo found Mkomo by one of the fires they had kindled. She was talking to Kulele; thinking that he wanted a ride, she knelt up to be straddled. But this time he wanted something different.

"Follow me, Mkomo."

The giantess rose to her feet. The doctor led her into a quiet area behind Skalapios' house, where they would not be interrupted. Only the rumor of a nearby source broke the silence of the African night.

"Master...?"

"Shhh, Mkomo. Go on all fours; tonight I'll teach you something new."

The giantess' heart beat faster: Master was going to take her again! She knelt on her fours, letting her reins dangle from her collar. The Portuguese contemplated for an instant the bare ass glistening under the moonlight. His mind wandered to the teachings of the priests he had heard so many times: sodomy was a sin, a practice against Nature inherited from the heathen, a trap set by Beelzebub to capture Christian souls... He shrugged: perhaps his would burn in hell for eternity, perhaps not – who knew? What he knew was that his cock was twitching at the sight of the black female in front of him, with her legs spread and offering her body to his pleasure.

The doctor kneaded the huge cheeks and felt how firm they were; she pushed them into his palms, curious as to what Master was going to do. He parted her thick thighs to reveal the slit, found the knob and started to caress it. The Talunga moaned softly and spread further her legs; her juices began to flow and quickly covered her labia.

Rodrigo let a finger slide between her buttocks and tickled for a moment the round hole in front of him. Mkomo jerked and moved forward, amazed by having something inserted in that orifice. The doctor stretched his hand and rubbed the rim in slow, circular movements, while his other hand worked her pussy.

"Lift your rear and stay still, Mkomo. I want you to enjoy what we are going to do."

Mkomo raised her butt, still tense. The doctor slipped two fingers in her pussy and moved them back and forth; he wanted her well aroused before going on with what he had planned. She responded clamping his fingers and pulling them inside her. Rodrigo smiled at her eagerness; he took some cream from her cunt and lubed carefully inside the hole above it.

He unbuttoned his breeches and brushed his cock on her ass' smooth skin. Mkomo rubbed her clit on the fingers that were making her feel so god. Faster and faster, harder and harder – and suddenly she cummed, jolting her whole body in the agony of pleasure, squirming her liquid and coating the doctor's fingers with a film of warm moisture.

Rodrigo took them out form the slippery labia and inserted them in her back door to widen a bit the rectum. He stroked it for a while, in and out, to get her used to the sensation. Mkomo clearly liked that.

"Relax, Mkomo - I will not hurt you. Squeeze my fingers with your muscles - yes, that is it! Strongly! Very good; now loosen them."

He made her repeat that four of five times, stroking gently her back with his other hand. She was perfectly still, her head down between her arms, moving only the sphincter muscles. Rodrigo placed the tip of his shaft in the opening and let stay it there for a while, leaning over her and licking her waist to distract her.

"Hold still, Mkomo, and feel how good it is to have Master'spatihere."

Very slowly, the Portuguese pushed further into the narrow tunnel and caressed her belly; she was so huge that her breasts were out of his reach. His finger found again her button and started to play with it; he wanted the giantess to associate being impaled in her ass with good sensations in the most sensitive area of her body. Inch by inch, he probed deeper into the smooth flesh; Mkomo closed her eyes and let him work her hole, wholly absorbed by what she was feeling. The opening was tight, but, in proportion to her size, also bigger than a normal woman's.

Rodrigo was very aroused now. He grabbed his dick out and slid it again into her, eliciting the low-pitched groan which, as he already knew, meant, "I am liking, go ahead." Mkomo nuzzled her bottom against him and heard his voice:

"Put your finger to your pussy and please yourself."

She didn't need a second order; now the doctor's both hands were free, and he grabbed her waist.

"Now do that with your muscles, Mkomo. There we go!"

She clenched her sphincter on his throbbing cock. Rodrigo moved forward until his balls hit the giantess' butt and receded, then repeated the movement a bit quicker, feeling the path easing for his rod. He thrust his hips forward and let her milk him, stroking the soft area between her pussy and her ass, watching as her womb trembled in expectation. His body was now close to her firm flesh, his cock almost aching with her pressure. The giantess felt it pulsing in her back grotto and rubbed faster on her button; that was better still than the first time Master had taken her! She squeezed and loosened her muscles on his cock, her fingertip busy on her clit – her thighs quivered – she leaned on her chin, freeing her other hand to caress her nipple – the tension mounted inside her belly - she opened her mouth to let air in, inhaling in large breaths – and then release came, making her jolt in lustful spasms.