Conquest Of The Golden Goddess Ch 05

Conquest of the Golden Goddess - Part 5, The Conclusion

by Cindy Lamb

When the queens finally returned for Tracey, she felt like she had been hanging in the smoke-filled hut for hours. Her head was swimming, and her sweat seemed to have solidified her body paint. Two queens lifted her up from the posts and carried her out into the cool night.

The village glowed red with torch light and hundreds of natives stood watching her. Tracey thought she saw the man who had sodomized her, but then she saw him again three more times. Would she ever be able to pick him out of this group? The queens carried her past a knot of half-starved wretches who she guessed must have been the slaves.

Tracey let her head hang backwards and her long hair brushed along the ground passing below her. The air felt good against her skin, everywhere except the part covered by the tight collar around her neck. She could smell the sweet scent of the smoke still coming off her skin and hair.

The queens carried her into a large, round hut with gaps between the branches making up its walls. Through these gaps glittered hundreds of watching eyes reflecting the torchlight inside the hut. Fierce-looking men with white war paint sat around the edges of the hut's interior... warriors. In the middle of the room was a broad tree stump. They carried Tracey to a large plinth of wood against the far wall and set her on the ground. She looked up and saw a thick wooden peg at the top of the plinth. Two warriors lifted her up and hung her on the peg by the cords binding her wrists. Her toes dangled more than two feet above the ground, but fortunately the plinth had a slightly tilted surface, and it took much of her body weight off her wrists. The warriors began to cheer and chant. The prize had been hung for all to see.

Tracey's head was still light from the smoke when she saw a strange warrior enter the hut. He was white and thin, with a shaved head covered by war paint. Then she realized who she was looking at.

***Peter! What did they do to you?***

He wore only a single leather cord around his waist and in this was tucked an obsidian knife, just like Tano's. His head had been shaved and adorned with strange markings. He looked determined, perhaps more so than she had ever seen. Then he saw Tracey where she hung, naked and painted. "Don't worry, baby. I've got this. We'll be out of here soon. I love you."

"I love you too," she gasped, too dizzy to form words properly.

Then the warriors cheered again. Tano entered the room with Ferguson at his side. They approached Tracey where she hung from the peg. Tano spoke and Ferguson translated.

"Ona Ata, Tano wants you to know that he will treasure you as his most prized queen. He knows that you will give him great pleasure and many golden-haired children. He is sorry for what he must do to your man."

Tracey stared down, the dark paint around her eyes making her blue irises stand out all the more brilliantly in the fire light. Not knowing what to say, she merely nodded.

With that, Ferguson moved quickly to the side of the hut and took a seat with the warriors. Tano, drew his knife and faced his opponent. Peter had already drawn his knife. With no word of warning or fanfare or further ritual, the fight commenced.

***Be careful, Peter. Be strong and...***

The fight was over.

Peter had lunged with his knife and Tano slashed his hand, forcing him to drop his weapon. The native warrior then drove his foot into Peter's gut and punched him hard in the back of the head. Tracey watched with despair as Tano knelt beside her stunned boyfriend and removed the leather cord from around his waist. This he used to bind Peter's hands behind him. He then dragged him over to the stump and laid him across it.

The natives erupted in a cacophony of shouts and jeers and laughter. Tano strode over to another of the warriors who handed something to him, it was a machete. The two warriors who had hung Tracey on the peg lifted her off and set her gently on her knees near the stump where a groggy Peter rolled his head slowly back and forth. Tano stood before her and held out the machete.

***Choose the machete, Ferguson said.***

Tracey thought back to the skulls at the entrance to the village and realized the choice she was being given. Her head spun. Could she choose for Peter to be made a slave of the tribe? It was an easy choice when the alternative was his death. Sweet, innocent Tracey who longed only to bring life into the world could no more become an agent of death than a fish could climb a mountain.

Tano held the knife aloft and the natives erupted in raucous laughter. Tracey looked up at the warrior and he was all she could see. He was her future. He would father her children, and they would not be Kayla and Sean but would be named by Tano. She had thought herself conquered before, but now she realized what true conquest was. There would be no rescue or life with Peter. All that was left was her captor.

Tracey crawled forward and laid her forehead down on Tano's foot.

***I belong to you now. I am your conquest, your queen. Whatever you tell me to do, I will obey without argument. Whatever you do to me, I will submit without struggle. This is my fate now. I accept it.***

Tano untied Tracey's wrists and ankles and guided her to stand before Peter and behold her defeated champion. The miserable boy, no longer her boyfriend, stared at her with anguished eyes.

"I'm sorry," she said. Then she dropped to her knees and fell forward on all fours. Tano knelt behind her and plunged his penis once again into Tracey from behind. She moaned loudly and grunted as the pleasure came rushing onto her. "YES!" she screamed when the first orgasm hit. She turned her face up and looked at Peter where he lay helpless, forced to watch Tano enjoy his prize.

When Tano pulsed inside her, he let out a victorious cry that was taken up by the entire village. As orgasm after orgasm erupted inside her, Tracey writhed luridly beneath her new mate until at last she passed out.

===================

Colonel Abrantes sat at his desk and watched through the glass wall as the three Americans departed. One couple had been polite and deferential, thankful for anything he could do. They were the girl's parents. The other two... they had been a handful. The man was rich and powerful, used to getting his way. The woman was shrill and demanded that her son be recovered.

Abrantes of course had no answers for them. The kids had disappeared without a trace and no amount of additional searching at the crash site was going to find evidence of where they went. He had regretfully informed the parents of the girl's shoe found in the river and the large number of crocodiles inhabiting the area. He lamented repeatedly that the pilots had left them there and not brought them along with them. Perhaps if he could lay enough blame on the pilots, he could give the rich man a new target for his wrath. Still, he doubted that he had seen the last of the boy's father.

"You mentioned the girl's shoe," said Lieutenant Lopes from his seat in the corner, "but you did not tell them what we found inside."

Abrantes took the file from his drawer and laid it on the desk. Inside the shoe had been stuffed a pair of ankle socks, a bra, and a pair of panties. The bra and panties had both been cut with a sharp implement.

"Their child was raped," Abrantes said. "Did you want me to tell them that? What good would that achieve? Out there it could only have been indians, or perhaps narcos. Either way, the girl suffered and may be suffering still. This troubles me, Lieutenant, but there is nothing we can do about it. We don't have the resources to search even a small area around the crash site, and who knows how far the girl was taken, or in which direction? To tell that man, the boy's father, would only encourage him to spend his millions on mercenaries and a wild goose chase through the jungle, murdering any indians they came across and likely dying themselves."

"They would have killed the boy anyway."

"Narcos would. Indians... I don't know. I have heard tales. But regardless, this case is closed." He opened the file and took out the photographs and descriptions of the cut clothing found at the scene. He placed these in his large ashtray and lit them on fire with his lighter.

"You'll have to take the actual clothes out of the evidence locker and destroy them as well," Lopes said with a judgmental sneer.

"Already done. This case is closed, Lieutenant Lopes. Our conclusion is predation by crocodiles. Those children are gone."

===================

Ona Ata sat in the shade and held her baby to her soft, white breast. She was a beautiful girl, the image of her mother, except for the brown eyes. It was Ona Ata's second daughter and fifth child in all. The matrons would come and take her away once she was able to walk. She would run in a pack with the other children, with her sister and brothers. She would be a queen herself one day, Ona Ata hoped.

Suru a' Ona Ata was out of her life. His name meant "the one who lost Ona Ata." As a slave, he had been marched off to clear the undergrowth of a new village. The tribe was expanding its area of control. The other queens told Tracey that she likely would never see the one who lost her again, and this did not sadden her. It would have given him too much pain to see her belly swollen with child at the end of every rainy season. Besides, Suru a' Ona Ata was a relic of a world she was forgetting, a world in which, though she did not know it, she already had a grave.

Ferguson came and went. Shortly after Tano claimed her, he explained that he could not notify the authorities about her whereabouts. He said that they would send soldiers and slaughter the people he had spent his life studying. This angered her at first, but Ona Ata had grown to accept it and even appreciate it. He wrote about her in one of his books, the white woman adopted by the tribe as a queen. It caused a stir. Not everyone believed the woman was willingly staying with the indians and demanded he break his silence about her whereabouts. In the story, he left out the part about Suru a' Ona Ata. The last time Ferguson came, he addressed her in the white language. It took a while for her to remember enough to understand him.

Tano entered the hut, and his other queens knelt and bowed their heads, hoping to be picked. Ona Ata was not required to kneel because she was nursing. Tano walked over to his Golden Goddess. "You will lay with me tonight, Ona Ata."

"It pleases me greatly," she said. It was the truth.

"Take me into your mouth now and drink my seed, my most cherished."

Holding her suckling baby to her breast, Ona Ata moved slowly so as not to wake her. She knelt at Tano's feet and smiled up at her conqueror.

Then she obeyed.

THE END