Warning: This story is about domination of black women by a white woman in a non-sadistic context. If you feel offended by the theme, please don't read it. However, the author would like to state that she has not written a political essay, but only a piece of fiction
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Eva Alpers had reached her thirty-first birthday two weeks before and was feeling fed up with what her life had become. She was a photographer, mostly working for fashion magazines and publicity campaigns. She was good at that, made a lot of money, liked to see the beautiful models in enticing positions – for she loved women and shunned males – but her work was beginning to turn into routine, and she hated that.
She had been thinking about her career and wanted a change. But what? She felt at a loss: she didn't want to go into journalism; to set up a studio and photograph celebrities was too risky – what if none showed up? The competition was fierce in that area. She dreamed of doing something different, something that would really break out of the mould and get her noticed, and also bring her a nice amount of cash.
Her doubts came to an end in a most unexpected way. One day, as she glanced at a bookstore window, an illustrated book on African cultures caught her eye. She pushed the door and spent the next hour leafing through the book: the sight of those dark, perfect bodies, of the luscious colors of the clothes and artifacts, of the powerful landscape, made her tingle with excitement. That was it: a book of photos of African girls, pure, untouched by civilization, full of energy and promises of pleasure! She felt her pussy dampen at the idea; in her college days, she had shown interest in a black student, Amanda, but they had never gone beyond some nights of wonderful lovemaking. She could still remember her rage when Amanda turned her down and began to date a basketball player; nothing she had experienced since equaled that tongue flickering on her womanhood and bringing her to pinnacles of pleasure.
So, that was it: a book on that subject. But how could she find such girls? She set out to do some research, going to libraries where she spent hours on end perusing ethnological treatises and scanning learned journals. On week later, she stumbled on a report that sent her heart pumping fast. It was about a tribe that only recently had come out from isolation and made contact with the world outside.
She could not believe her eyes as they ran feverishly over the report: it was a tribe of Amazons, utterly different in their habits from any other African cultures. The local government had made contact with them, but the whole issue was still shrouded in mystery: how had they kept their traditions for so long? How could they have escaped illness, slavers, and the mere threat of extinction, since no men were allowed among them? Surely they had some means to propagate, but exactly how was still an enigma.
She made a copy of the report and went directly to the African country consulate. There she was met by the cultural
attaché
, a tall, slim black woman, who agreed to tell her about the Amazons.
"They are very primitive, it seems," she began, as Eva ate her with her eyes. "They adore some female goddesses, are very able with weapons, and manage quite well to survive under the harsh conditions of the jungle. There is also something curious: our emissaries discovered that they have a very particular relationship to metallic objects. As far as I understand, they attribute some magical power to them, we don't know why."
"Metallic objects? What do you mean?"
"Things made of metal, specially shining ones - buckles, bracelets, earrings, necklaces, and so on. They don't know how to forge metals, or maybe they once did, but have lost this knowledge; their culture is still in the Stone Age. Anyway, our officers were stunned at the way they treated these things: they wanted to touch them, even to bite them!"
"How interesting," said Eva.
"At first they were somewhat suspicious, but soon showed friendliness and acted as good hosts. Of course we took care to send only female officers; they spent some days there and were escorted by the Amazons until the border of their area. Do you want to see some photos?
"Yes, sure!"
The woman opened a drawer and showed Eva an album with images of the Amazons. They were quite amateurish, but Eva had to hold her breath when she saw the images. The Amazons did not cover their breasts; they were tall, slender, but well shaped, with a warm tone of black on their skins. The photos showed the tribe in their daily tasks; there were girls of all ages, mature women, warriors painted with white ink and ready for war, women dancing at some celebration - a varied assortment of pictures that set Eva's imagination on fire.
"They are superb," she said, "but if you allow a comment, the photos are very poorly made. See here" – she showed with her finger – "out of focus! On this one here, they cut off half the subject's hand. They deserve a better job! I am a photographer: would your government allow me to spend some time with them? Then you could use the pictures to foster tourism, or simply to have a better idea of a part of your population."
The woman helped herself to some more tea. "That would be fine. But we don't have money for such a project," she said. "Budget is very strict, and unhappily the Ministry of Culture has other priorities."
Eva smiled: she had expected precisely that reply.
"I would not charge a penny for my work! What I want is the right to publish a book with the photos. Your government would have only to get me there and ensure that they are well disposed towards me; I would spend two or three months in their village and take my time until they agree to be photographed. What do you say?"
"That sounds fine, but I have to consult with the Ministry. Why don't you call me up in a week?"
Eva nodded. Her desire was to tell that ebony beauty to stripe naked and kiss her entire body, but she could do nothing of the sort. However, she felt that some present would significantly increase the good will of the Ministry towards her request. She took from her wrist a finely wrought bracelet with stones imitating topazes and said:
"Don't take me wrong... I am very grateful to you for all your trouble. Please accept this gift; it will look lovely in your wrist."
The woman's eyes opened wide, and her teeth appeared as she smiled. "For me? Oh, thanks a lot! You are very kind, Miss - she looked at a sheet of paper in front of her - Miss Alpers!" As she spoke, her hand stretched out towards the bracelet on the table. Eva wanted to touch that skin; she was quicker than the woman, and in a flash the bracelet was on her hand again.
"Let me put it on you," she said.
The African offered her arm over the table and Eva brushed her fingers on it, pretending to have some difficulty with the bracelet. She felt a strong urge to lick that silky skin, but she didn't want to jeopardize her chances. "Hold yourself," she thought; "if this works, you will have plenty of time to taste chocolate." She clasped the bracelet and said:
"See, it is lovely! Look how the stones shine on your wrist!"
"Thanks a lot, Miss Alpers. You will hear from me soon," the cultural attaché said, and stood up, indicating that the meeting was over.
As Eva got out of the consulate, her mind was working at full speed. So, there was a place where black women went almost naked and were mesmerized by metallic objects... If she carried enough of these with her, she could exchange them for favors from the girls. They were certainly accustomed to play with women: how else could they get pleasure? She would choose one or two of the finest and make them her favorites; it was a question of tact - she had to be careful, but if she acted rightly they would give in.
A week later, her portable phone rang. "Miss Alpers? This is Zahira from the Consulate. You have permission to stay six months with the Amazons. Why don't you come tomorrow to discuss the details of you trip? Ah, and your ticket and visa will be a courtesy of our country... Yes... Thanks... Three PM? I will wait for you, then. Good bye!"
Two
The necessary arrangements were made, and a fine morning Eva found herself sitting in a comfortable executive class seat, in an airplane bound to Africa. The trip was somewhat tiresome, but she finally landed in the capital city and was received by a dark-skinned girl in tight shorts and sandals. Her eyes were very expressive, and her smile quite friendly.
"Miss Alpers? I am Katunda, your guide and driver while you stay in our town. Please follow me," the girl said. Eva could not take her eyes form her shapely bottom. The girl had long legs, that ended in a perfect pair of feet: a high arch, tips of the toes nicely aligned, and ankles with deep hollows at the sides of the Achilles tendon. As she walked, a stripe of her white soles showed on the platform of her sandals.
Eva shivered: one of her fetishes was just that – fine feminine feet. She licked her lips, imagining how they would taste. The girl was seeing Eva's luggage, which was quite impressive, cleared with the customs office. After she got all the necessary stamps, they stepped into a jeep and she was taken to her hotel.
The next days were sheer delight for Eva. Katunda was a good guide and took her to see the sights of the capital; she was not a Lesbian, but the natives' idea of what the proper distance between people should be was very liberal. Eva took every opportunity to hug Katunda or kiss her cheek; often they walked hand in hand, and the white woman made a habit of letting her hand rest on the black girl's thigh as she drove her around. It was a foretaste of what awaited her in the Amazons village, she thought; she took pictures of Katunda in all poses, and as they were to leave the capital she bought her a beautiful golden wristband. She had her name engraved on it, and when Katunda put it on her thin wrist, Eva felt a twitch in her pussy: such a pretty Nubian carrying a band with her name!
The next day, they loaded a jeep with Eva's luggage and departed for the hinterland. The photographer had a toned body and a fine bust; that day, she had done her blonde hair casually in a sort of bun behind her head, putting into value her finely shaped neck. She was wearing a pair of slacks, rough boots that went just to her ankles, and a blouse with an open neck.
She had taken care to put on a golden pair or earrings; she had not forgotten what the attaché had told her about the fascination of the Amazons with metallic objects. That was why she wanted to have some on her body, rather inconspicuous, but clearly visible – so she could test their reaction to them without arousing suspicions. In her luggage, besides books, personal items, her cameras, a good supply of batteries and flashlights, she had brought a sizable amount of cheap silver and steel necklaces, bracelets, little chains, mirrors, piercings, small bells, and variety of chains cut to several lengths.
She had made up her mind. She was pretty sure that she would find a suitable companion for the warm nights that awaited her. But she wanted more than that; she wanted some pretty Negresses to take care of her needs, something she was denied by the conventions of her own society. She had imagined herself living two or three hundred years ago, surrounded by scantily dressed ebony girls, duly trained into doing what she told them to, and that thought had set fire to her imagination. She was determined to try and see if the Amazons would do for her all that Amanda would have done, had they lived in a less egalitarian age.
As the jeep left the asphalt for a side road, Katunda had already filled her with a lot of information about the Amazons. They were now on the topic of men:
"How do they manage to get babies?" Eva had asked.
