Four
Samba stood still as the white woman stepped out of her hut. She was very excited; her fingers kept touching the hard thing that encircled her neck. As every Amazon knew, that was a
bulawa
– and the woman had given her one!
She lay down on her cot and closed her eyes, trying to remember. It had been a long time ago, many years before her grandmother was born. At that time, the Amazons were very powerful; they fought against the neighboring tribes, and sometimes even ate the prisoners. This story had been told to her grandmother by her own grandmother. She had just passed the tests to become a warrior when, one day, bearded men in long white robes had come to the village and offered the Amazons those shining things, which came in many forms: necklaces, rings, bracelets... The men had explained that they were amulets, which could make them still more powerful, and also make them feel more pleasure when playing with each other. They wanted to trade them for prisoners; the warriors had forayed into the nearby villages, brought many captives, and earned a lot of fine
bulawas
as a reward. "We will return after the great rains", the men had said.
The tribe had waited eagerly for them, but they never came - he Amazons didn't know why. The
bulawas
were indeed powerful, so her grandmother had told; the pleasure they granted their owners was far superior to what any other amulet could provide. But after some time, the metal pieces became rusted and had to be discarded. The memory of how good they had made a person feel, however, had persisted and been handed down to every new generation of Amazons. Ever since, the tribe had waited for the men to appear again.
That was many years ago. The tribes of the area, tired of being humiliated and defeated by the Amazons, had moved away. The warriors had had to make a truce with one of them, because otherwise no men would be left to fertilize them, and the tribe would have disappeared. Having no more reason to battle, their ferociousness had slowly decreased; they still retained good shooting and wrestling skills, but that was all that remained from their former aggressiveness.
No
bulawa
had been seen ever since – until the women from the town had appeared in the village some weeks before. On their wrists, necks and ears, they wore shining bands that could only be
bulawas.
There had been a heated discussion: should they ask the women to give them a few, or not? Samba was against the idea, and her argument was finally accepted: they had no prisoners to trade, and in fact, nothing that the foreign women seemed interested in. The visitors could refuse to part with such precious things, and that would be quite humiliating. So, the Amazons were reduced to sniffing, licking and biting those ornaments: who knew, perhaps some of their power could be absorbed through their mouths and noses?
And now, the white woman had brought loads of shining things with her. Samba had tasted one on her foot: no possible doubt – it was a
bulawa.
The woman certainly belonged to those bearded men's tribe, or at least was on friendly terms with them; what she had to do, Samba thought, was to persuade her to give her tribe as many
bulawas
as possible. What would she ask in return? She had not mentioned prisoners, which was good, as her tribe was not in a position to offer any. Could it be possible that she just wanted to be caressed, like she had asked Samba to do? It that was true, then her tribe was very lucky.
The Amazon touched again the band around her neck, remembering how aroused she had been while licking the visitor's pussy. What a strange thing – a tongue on that place! - But it had to be good, otherwise the woman would not have cummed so strongly. She knew ways to be pleased that the Amazons did not; Samba could learn them and have still more pleasure with her usual mates. Even Valera would give in to her! Valera, the most agile and beautiful virgin in the tribe...
Samba put her thumb on her clit and began to touch herself. She did it quickly; her mind wandered from the shining circlet around the woman's ankle to her rosy labia and to the upright breasts of the girl she was coveting. She could still feel the wetness on her nose and chin; she kept rubbing until her knees trembled and her belly shook in a welcome orgasm.
Meanwhile, Eva had arrived at her hut. Sheera was there, contemplating the metal things she had left on display. Even as the sun was setting down, the heat of the African plain was lingering over the Amazons' village.
"Sheera, do you know what a fan is?"
"No, Miss."
"It is a sort of branch with many leaves on its end, that you wave over a person to make breeze. Can you find one for me, please?"
As she returned with a branch like she had described, Eva showed her how to use it and told her to squat behind her. Sheera waved it with care, thinking of the fine
bulawa
she would soon earn.
"I will get some sleep, Sheera. Fan me while I rest; when I wake up, I want to see you here. Understood?"
The last sight Eva had before she fell into a blissful nap was a pair of coal-black breasts bouncing over her head. Two hours later, as she opened her eyes, Sheera was still there waving the branch and giving her the agreeable sensation of a refreshing breeze. She smiled:
"Good, Sheera! Now let us get ready for the dance. I want you to have a very good time – you deserve it!"
Eva had adorned her fingers with silver rings, and put a shining golden cross to her neck: they were the baits she was going to use to fish some more Amazons into her net.
The tribe had gathered in a circle around a big fire; in a quick glance, Eva calculated that there were about three hundred of them. They had brought shields decorated with geometric motives, and were wearing their finest hides. Torches were being lit, and a strong aroma was wafting from the small fires over which chunks of antelope were roasting.
Eva felt a twitch at her pussy as she saw the reflexes of the flames on the Samba's collar. The warrior looked superb; she was not as fresh as Sheera or Tonga, but her body was firm, with pronounced curves at the hips, a round bottom and long legs. A bracelet made of leopard teeth graced her right wrist. She raised a hand, and a sudden silence fell over the village.
"
Saravah
, Amazons! Tonight we have a feast in honor of our guest. I have been told that she will live with us for some time; we will do our best to make her stay agreeable. Now we will dance for her, and eat and drink. Drummers, you may start!"
Eva watched awestruck as the women began to stomp their feet to the beat of the drums; soon the whole circle was moving clockwise, the shields going up and down in an intricate choreography. She let her eyes wander on the circle as hips swayed, hands clapped, breasts bounced – the Amazons were getting excited with the rhythmic movements. Hands went up and down again; arms were now close to body, now stretched up in precise gestures. She gazed at the flat bellies sticking out and in again, at the legs and feet moving in precise rhythm, at the skins gleaming with palm oil, at the neat squares of hair on top of their heads. Eva had of course brought her cameras and was shooting every detail of the ceremony.
The dance went on for about half an hour, until the women felt tired. Samba stopped and got out form the circle; a tall girl approached her and rubbed her nose on her shoulder. The leader lifted her chin to show the collar, took the girl's hand and walked with her into the bushes.
Eva was feeling hungry; she looked around and saw that Tonga was also rubbing her nose on Sheera: it was obvious that the gesture meant an invitation to make love.
"Time for a small test", she decided. She whistled for them. Tonga whispered something into the other girl's ear; both rushed to where the photographer was and knelt down.
"Tonga, please get me some food."
The young Amazon sprang to her feet and in no time came back with a cut of antelope; kneeling again, she stretched her arms and said:
"Miss, Tonga has brought your food!"
Eva patted her head. "Good, Tonga! I see you can remember what Miss taught you. Now, Sheera, please bring me something to drink."
The girl dashed away, returned with a bowl of palm wine and offered it to Eva as Tonga had done. The photographer told them to stay on their knees while she enjoyed her first African meal; that attracted the attention of some other girls, who came to inquire why they were in that unusual position. Their faces showed all their interest in Eva's metallic ornaments.
"I have chosen Sheera and Tonga as my first aides here", Eva said. "You are all very beautiful; if you help me like these two are doing, I might give you the same gifts I promised them."
And she walked away, letting Sheera and Tonga tell their sisters what those gifts were. She wanted to have a good look at the other Amazons; she had some definite ideas in her mind, and wanted to check if they could be put in practice.
Eva strolled slowly, watching the females eat and drink, looking for two strong ones. She had seen once, in a film, two Negroes carrying their master on a hammock fastened to a rod; the ends of the rod were on their shoulders, and the man looked quite comfortable in this means of transport. There were no hammocks around the village, but perhaps she could persuade two stout Negresses to build her a sort of litter and carry her around.
The palm wine was beginning to show its effects on the Amazons; some couples were already going on the ground and kissing. Eva smiled as she saw a couple rolling together; "they are not shy", she thought. A girl stretched her hand to touch her belt buckle; Eva took her hand and stroked her wrist along the bone lines.
"Do you like that?"
"Yes! Are you giving the
bulawa
to Matomba?"
"Is this what you call these?" she asked.
"Yes! You gave one to Samba; are you going to give one to Matomba too?"
"Maybe... if you help me like Samba did."
"What has she done?"
Eva was going to reply when she caught sight of a Negress sitting beside Matomba; she was giving her breast to a small girl. Eva felt an urge to grab her other breast and suck it, but she controlled herself.
"What is your name, pretty Amazon?"
"I am called Taranga. What is yours?"
"They call me Miss", said Eva, caressing the young mother's head. She went on:
"Your other breast seems swollen. Hasn't your daughter taken it?"
"No. I will have to find another baby, or empty it myself." As expected, her eyes were stuck on Eva's anklet.
"I could do it for you, if you want."
"Would you? Oh, that would be fine!" Taranga cupped her breast and offered it to Eva. Leaning down, the photographer teased the nipple and wrapped her lips around it. The milk tasted warm and sweet; Eva sucked it until the last drop.
"Thanks, Taranga! I could drink this every day! And you look beautiful, too", she said. Making a mental note to tell Sheera to bring her next morning to the hut, Eva rose up and continued to stroll, greeting here and there a particularly well shaped Amazon, and looking for muscled ones. Her eyes sparkled as she spotted a pair of twins squatting and munching on their chunks of antelope.
"Best specimens thus far", she thought as she stopped by them and inquired about their names.
"I am Munga, and my sister is Sunga."
"I am Miss. You two would look lovely with one of my necklaces on!"
"Like Samba's?" Sunga's voice sounded eager. "Why have you given her a
bulawa
