The Realm of the Fighting Ladies Pt. 02

The doctor gave her a break to orgasm and slid again his prick along her damp walls, enjoying the smoothness of the virgin hole. He grabbed her heels and arched back; she was awfully good to fuck, he thought, he really should have her more often. Listening to her heavy respiration, he accelerated his movements; pushing his cock inside her, he took a deep breath and spurted a few jets in rapid succession.

Mkomo felt the sticky substance unload into her and looked back, her mouth open as if to say something; Rodrigo patted her buttock and put his finger on his lips - there was nothing to be said. The man remained in her asshole her for some moments, feeling his dick becoming limp, until it came out by itself. Mkomo was both pleased and amazed; she had never thought that her back hole could be used for that end.

The Portuguese pulled on Mkomo's chain and took her to the small source behind the bushes. He removed his breeches and let her wash his member; her huge hands were surprisingly soft, and he thoroughly enjoyed the care with which she carried out her task. A trickle of sticky cum was going down her thigh; she sat by the source and cleaned herself.

"You have carried me and obeyed me like the faithful soldier that you are, Mkomo. This was to reward your good service."

"Mkomo like Master", she said softly, and grabbed the loose ends of the chains dangling from her collar. "Want to be with Master many times."

He nibbled her left nipple to show that he also liked her.

"I will go to bed now. Join the Talunga and help them keep watch."

The Portuguese stood up and saw the imposing bulk of her body clearly cut against the starry sky as she walked back to where her sisters were. He walked slowly towards the house; all was dark. He wondered if the Amazons had had a good time with their girls; from one of the rooms, muffled moans could be heard – it was Skalapios'- how would Kango be faring with the farmer?

As he was entering his room, Simona crossed him on the corridor. He was going to wish her goodnight when he noticed that she seemed upset; it was not a good time to discover why. He closed the door. Her steps faded away; he lay on the simple bed and in minutes was asleep.

Chapter Eight

The caravan had been walking since dawn. The day was not sunny; the sky was grey, and on the horizon massive clouds had formed, announcing rain. Rodrigo had noticed that the Amazons were nervous: Awana`s lips were tightly pressed against each other, Simona was agitated, and Artemisia seemed worried. He didn't know, but the previous night, as he had crossed her, the red-haired Lady was going out from Awana`s room, very angry because her advances had been rebuked.

The Portuguese had tried to engage in conversation with the Amazons, but his efforts had been politely ignored. Pretending to keep an eye on his trunks, he decided to stay behind them and placed Mkomo at the side of the Talunga watchers. From there, he could see Nwanze, Kizumbu and Maiunga talking at some distance from the horses; Kango walked in silence, lost in his thoughts, with his master's bag on his shoulder.

Rodrigo saw the lad's head turning back and waved his hand. Soon after, Simona called for a halt, and he dismounted from Mkomo.

"Kango, come with me. I see that something is burdening you."

The Kimbundo followed him to a shadowy tree.

"Master. One thing Kango want know. Kango healthy now? Poison of ants gone?"

"I think so. We have to check, but it is probably gone by now."

"Kango no want more medicine."

The Portuguese glanced at the young man. Clearly, he was unhappy with what had taken place between the farmer and him.

"Did Skalapios give you medicine, Kango?"

"Yes, Master – three times."

"Where?"

"Here one time" – the Negro pointed to his mouth – "and here, two times" – his hand touched his buttocks. His face was tense.

"Master, Kango want go back to village."

Rodrigo remained silent for a while.

"You know that this is impossible. Strong and healthy as you are, if I released you the Ladies would send the Talunga after you like they did with the Shanti girl."

Kango turned his head and pointed at the youths sitting at a distance, surrounded by the vigilant Talunga.

"What happen to Kimbundo, Shanti, Pukari in Ladies' village?"

"They will do what they were brought for: work and please their masters."

"Why can't Ladies work?" There was resentment in his voice.

Rodrigo measured what he was going to say. He could tell Kango that his people bore Cam's curse and because of that were enslaved since Antiquity – at least, that was what the theologians said. But he didn't believe in that lame explanation; for him, slavery was a fact of life, like illness or rain. The ancient Greeks and Romans had had slaves; Moslem pirates captured Christians to sell in their lands; and Europeans preferred Africans. Period.

"Kango, listen to me. There are slaves in many places, not only here. In the land I come from, they are dark-skinned like you. I myself own some, males and females. And when I make it back to Salvador, I will take you with me."

"Master take Kango to Master land?" There was bewilderment in his voice.

"Why not? You are intelligent and hard working – why would I leave you behind? Unless you prove disobedient – then I will give you over to the Ladies, as I said yesterday."

Kango made a grimace. The Portuguese went on:

"Look at it this way. There are many animals in the jungle, all different from each other. Some fly, some are prey to panthers or lions, some slither on the ground, and no one protests against its lot. It is the same with us humans: some command, some obey. The Ladies command, the Talunga fight, and your tribes pay tribute furnishing good workers. That is how things are."

That speech struck home: the Kimbundo seemed less nervous. But there was something that he definitely didn't like:

"Kango no want to go with men, Master."

"I cannot promise you that. A slave does what his master tells him to do. And if I order you to remove those breaches and please me, or someone else, you will do it. Like Nwanze does for Awana, Kizumbu for Simona, and so on. Like your kind does in many other places."

The lad looked surprised.

"Nwanze go with Lady?"

"Ask her."

The doctor hadn't seen that in person, but he had observed the Amazon inspecting the girl, and it was impossible to misinterpret what she was after.

"I don't want to repeat all this again, Kango. You made an oath to serve me. I will give you a last chance: do you want to keep your oath, or join the column and be disposed of when we arrive at Erimanton? And, for your information, in the town male slaves also please their masters. Awana told me so. Think about that. And get moving!"

He stood up; Simona had mounted her horse and the column was beginning to move. The Kimbundo rose up and slowly put the bag on his shoulder. If those were his options – to serve Master or some other man in the Ladies' village – it was better to stay with what he knew already. Master was kind, didn't pierce his slaves' ear, and – hispati tasted better than the farmer's.

"Kango want stay with Master."

Rodrigo patted his butt over the red breeches.

"Good. Remember that when you have stupid ideas again."

***

Three days later, Erimanton was on sight. Simona had sent two Talunga to announce their arrival; the column walked past burgeoning fields, where slaves worked under the watchful eye of the mule-riding Talunga. The Negroes became agitated; some wanted to slow down and take in the new sights, but the soldiers kept hastening them; they were also tired and eager to reach their quarters.

The road had widened; carts and horsemen were going in both directions. Rodrigo saw a squad of soldiers being led to exercise, a group of Shanti digging a ditch by the road's edge, brown skinned Pukari girls with baskets on their heads, probably bringing produce to the market – it was refreshing to see a civilized place after all those days among half savage tribes.

Finally they entered the town and Simona directed the caravan towards a low building with barred windows, where a man dressed in a Greek tunic was waiting for them.

"Hail, Praximenes!"

"Hail, Simona. Have you have a good trip?"

"No problems."

"Who is the stranger?" He had noticed Rodrigo on top of a Talunga.

"Take care, he speaks our language! He is some doctor Awana is bringing into our town." Her tone hardly concealed how uneasy she felt about that.

Praximenes said nothing: he was a prudent man, and was not going to comment on what an Amazon had decided.

"I see that you have brought a good number of slaves. I will see them inside; several people have already registered for the picking, which will take place this afternoon."

"Can you keep these trunks until I send for them?" Awana asked.

"Certainly, Awana. They will be safe here", said the man.

The Negroes were being led into the building by Praximenes' aides, to get a good wash and be fed. They walked in silence, wondering what would become of them. Rodrigo remained on top of Mkomo, waiting for what Awana would say. Was he to go with her? Or somewhere else?

The Amazon turned to him.

"Rodrigo, this is the end of our trip. You can spend a day or two with me; then we will go to see the Queen, and she will decide about you."

"As you say, Awana. Can I bring with me Mkomo and Kango?"

"Sure. Follow me, but on foot. We don't want to attract unnecessary attention."

Simona and Artemisia hugged her and left, flanked by Maiunga and Kizumbu. The Portuguese dismounted and followed Awana through a maze of small streets that opened into a wide thoroughfare. Erimanton looked like any other town he had visited – houses, stores, a big temple on the end of the avenue – and, reminding him of Salvador, dozens of bare-chested Negroes carrying all sorts of things on their heads and shoulders. At that early hour, not many Amazons were on sight.

Awana turned into a side street and stopped two blocks away. She tied her horse to a pole in front of her house and motioned for them to enter.

"Druna will come soon and take him to the stables", she said. "Be welcome, you all: this is where I live."

She removed her sandals and stepped in; Rodrigo took off his boots and followed her. The house was spacious, with a small patio surrounded by trees and with a fountain in its center. From there one stepped into the main room, where he saw a table and benches; at one side of this room, after an arch, cushions were spread on the floor and a fireplace garnished one of the walls. From the opposite side, a corridor opened into three alcoves with built-in beds. The kitchen was behind the dining room, and a back yard housed two small ponds, one for bathing and another for cleansing utensils and clothes.

Awana went to the back yard and washed her face and hands. Mkomo waited for her to finish and imitated her; so did the Kimbundo. Rodrigo went to the alcove she had designated for him and sat down on the stone bed. The Amazon gave Nwanze instructions about washing her clothes and preparing a light meal. The Portuguese laid down his musket, opened his bag and took out some clean clothes; all he wanted was to clean himself and take a good nap. What would happen later was in the saints' hands: they had protected him this far, and he trusted that they would not fail him now.

***

Praximenes wiped his forehead and glanced at the list of demands in his hand. After being washed and fed, the slaves had been separated in six pens, according to sex and tribe, and were now squatting or sitting, talking in low voice or simply looking into the wide corridor through the bars of their cells.

The officer strolled slowly, counting the males and females in each pen. There were sixty-four lads and fifty-nine girls; he could sense their anxiety, but otherwise they were calm, waiting for the impending end of their journey.

He made some quick calculations: the commands of the government or of contractors working for it had to be met before the ones from private citizens. Protagoras wanted some males for the gangs who were paving the streets of the Northern quarter; the palace cook had asked for five girls to help him. Three Pukari girls had been requested for the Temple of Artemis. The chief of the garbage collectors wanted seven vigorous males, preferably Shanti. The Kimbundo would all go to the artisans, and thirty-five Amazons wanted slave girls for their personal service. There were enough slaves to meet all the commands, and those who remained after the first pickings would soon be placed: fresh Negroes never warmed for long the cots of their pens.

Praximenes glanced at the huge water clock at the end of the loft: the surgeon was due any moment now. Should he choose a male for himself? Being forbidden to have sex with women, he had got used to take his pleasure with the well-built Shanti employed in his saw-mill, and he was entitled to one slave a year in exchange for his services when they arrived. His experienced eyes wandered over the dark forms behind the bars, evaluating shoulders and biceps.

"Hey, you! Come here!"

The young man he had decided upon looked around, somewhat scared, and walked to the bars. Praximenes slid his hands over the Negro's chest and pinched his biceps; undoing his loincloth, he chuckled at the sight of the cock – wide and long, as he liked. Some strokes made it stiffen and point forward; the youth gulped, embarrassed at having his dick caressed in front of his fellows. Praximenes felt the bulging muscles on the calves and looked right into the Shanti's eyes:

"You will work for me. I'll keep your loincloth so that I can recognize you when the surgeon comes."

At that very moment, the door of the loft was pushed and the man he was expecting stepped in, followed by two stout aides carrying bags.

"Hail, Phileas! I was waiting for you. Do this one first, will you, please?"

Phileas nodded approvingly as the officer opened the pen door and the naked Shanti came out.

"Taking him to the mill?"

"Yes. Business is blooming, and I need more workers."

The surgeon knew perfectly that the young man would perform other functions besides sawing trunks, but said nothing. His aides took the slave to the branding pen, which was a small room located at the end of the loft. The Negroes were alert now, sensing that something important was about to happen, but Phileas closed the door behind him, leaving their curiosity unsatisfied.

A stove was burning in the center of the room. The surgeon heated his instruments – a pair of pliers and a small awl – and fetched the metal ring that one of the aides was handing him. The other aide sat on a bench, while his fellow tied the black lad's hands behind his back. He was made to kneel down and the sitting Greek held firmly his head, while Phileas put between his teeth a piece of leather.

"It may hurt a bit", he said. "Bite into the leather – I don't want screams, do you understand?"

With a quick gesture, the surgeon perforated the left ear and widened it using the awl. The young man bit hard into the leather piece, trying to free his head from the man's grip, but to no avail.

"Keep quiet!"

Phileas inserted the metal ring inside the opening, which was hardly bleeding, and with his fingers fitted it into the inner rim, not making any case of the Shanti's contorted expression.

"It's over. Your hands will be kept tied for the rest of the day, so that you don't tamper with the ring."

He told his aides and told them to take the Negro to the waiting pen and walked back to Praximenes, who was talking to a foreign man and an Amazon. A couple of Kimbundo was standing by them, looking around with a somewhat frightened face.

"Shall I brand these two?"

"Only the girl", Awana said. "The foreigner's slave has already a sign."

In fact, Kango sported a collar on his neck. Rodrigo had asked the Lady if he could be spared the ring, as technically he was not property of any Amazon. Awana had agreed, but suggested that the lad be given some mark of his condition - if the Talunga mistook him for someone having trespassed the limits of his district, the consequences could be very unpleasant. The Portuguese had chosen for him a copper collar similar to Mkomo's, but without reins, and that settled the matter.

The first acquirers were coming into the loft. As the surgeon disappeared with Nwanze into the branding room - under Kango's worried eyes - Rodrigo turned to Awana:

"Tell me, how are the slaves disposed of?"

"There is a list of commands. Those destined to public services go first, then common citizens can make their choice."

"And what about prices?"

"Each buyer pays a tax to the Queen's treasure – for the exact amount, you have to ask Praximenes – and that is all. Private transactions also exist: for instance, Simona told me that she wanted a new girl because she sold hers to the wine merchant." She made a gesture with her hand: "See, there comes Aristarchos!"

A fat man in his forties, with a heavy chain on his waist and rings on his fingers, was approaching. Praximenes excused himself and went to see the contractor.

"Hail, Aristarchos! I have just arrived from the Kimbundo village. Tomorrow I will go to your shop and pay for my brooch", Awana said.

"Any time you want, Awana".

The fat man's eyes flashed at the sight of Kango, who was following keenly the movement of slaves as they emerged from the branding room. He made a movement to join Nwanze, who had just come out, her hands tied to her back, an expression of pain in her fine features. The Amazon stopped him:

"She will wait there for a while. Stay where you are."

"Nice Kimbundo", Aristarchos commented. "I need one for my shop. Is he already allotted?"

"He belongs to the foreigner", Awana explained. "Rodrigo, Aristarchos is the best jeweller in town. Aristarchos, this man is a doctor visiting our capital."

"How much do you want for the Kimbundo?" The jeweller could not be more direct.

"Kango is not for sale", the doctor replied.

Hearing his name pronounced, even if he didn't understand Greek, the young man turned his head. The Portuguese went on:

"But if you want a Kimbundo for your business, I can indicate one to you. You can even see a bracelet he has made – it is on the wrist of the Talunga waiting for us outside."

Aristarchos glanced at the bulge appearing under the Negro's breeches and sighed.

"This one would serve me well, though... Two hundred drachmas?"

Rodrigo smiled at the alarmed face Kango was making: he had understood that the fat man was interested in him.

"Much as I would like to oblige you, Aristarchos, I am not prepared to part with Kango. I have been training him and now I want to reap the fruit of my effort."

He decided to tease the Kimbundo – the request to go back to the village was still in his mind, and showing that he could be easily sold would be a good lesson to the lad.

"But you can examine him if you want; then I will show you the young man I mentioned."

The Greek did not wait for a second invitation. His hand slid over Kango's muscles and palpated the volume between his legs.

"Master! Master said ..." There was a note of panic in the lad's voice.

"Shh, Kango! Quiet!"

Aristarchos turned around Kango and cupped his shapely ass. Rodrigo blinked to Awana – for someone interested in an apprentice, the jeweller's examination was quite odd... The fat Greek seemed to realize that, for he grabbed Kango's hands and pulled the fingers one by one as if to gauge their adequacy for a delicate job.

"He is superb... If anytime you decide to sell him, Awana knows where my shop is. Now, can you show me the one you said?"