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:
