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?”
“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 escort bayan kağıthane 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 escort bayan beyoğlu 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?”
“Because she is the leader of your tribe, and has been kind enough to help me when I asked her to. I could give you one, too, if you prove equally helpful. But we will talk about that tomorrow. Now I must rest for the night; this day has been very long, and I feel tired”, she said, stroking Sunga’s salient biceps. “These two would do finely”, she thought. “Let’s see how they react when I tell them what I want.”
The feast was still on, but less and less women were around; most had retreated into the bushes, and Eva could hear moans of pleasure as they gave free rein to their wild instincts. She was sure that Sheera and Tonga wanted to hang with the girls of their age, but she had other plans. She called the two girls and was escorted to her hut.
“I have had such a wonderful night! Please, help me to undress.” Sheera took off Eva’s sandals and unbuttoned her skirt, while Tonga worked on her blouse.
“Miss, everybody is talking about the gift you gave to Samba!”
“The bulawa? What are they saying?”
Sheera was surprised to see that the woman knew that word.
“They all want one! They are powerful amulets, you know.”
Eva held her breath. Then, that was the reason why those savages set such great store by the metallic ornaments! She said in a non-committed tone:
“Ah, are they? What do they do for the person who owns one?”
Sheera looked up at her, a worried expression on her face. How much, exactly, did the visitor know about bulawas? But Tonga was already speaking:
“They make one feel very good when she is with another girl. Don’t you know that?”
“Oh yes, I was just making sure that you know”, Eva replied astutely. “Did you tell your sisters how they can earn one?”
“Yes, I said that you will give bulawas to the girls who help you.” She caressed Eva’s earring: “You will, won’t you, Miss?”
“Good girls will earn them, no doubt! Bad ones will be left without any”, Eva snapped, and turned to Sheera.
“Sheera, you know Taranga, don’t you? Tomorrow morning, as you wake up, go and bring her here. I loved her milk, and promised to help her with it.” She had an idea: “Now, my girls, come here and do to me as I did for her.”
Both stood up and put Eva’s nipples in their mouths; no milk poured, of course, but the photographer felt excited at having them nibbled. She held their heads and smiled, her pussy almost gushing as the Nubians sucked on her firm breasts.
“Use you fingers down here, my dears…”
The two fingers that slid into her hut made her jolt. The girls were clearly used to do that; they increased the speed little by little, rubbing the walls while sucking on her nipples. Eva put her arms around their shoulders and pressed their bodies against hers. She was not sure whether that was the third or the fourth orgasm of the day, but it didn’t matter – she was feeling so good! She held back her climax as much as she could; when she cummed at last, she had her eyes closed, her womb shivering from pleasure as she caressed the girls’ necks.
She took their hands off her breasts and said:
“Lick your finger, my dears: so you will sleep with Miss’s taste in your mouths. This is a powerful nutrient I am giving you; you will feel stronger tomorrow. But be careful!” she went on. “Even if you feel the urge, don’t touch yourselves until the sun sets down tomorrow, or the effect will be reversed: you will feel weaker instead of stronger, do you understand?”
The girls nodded earnestly, licking the last drops from their fingers.
Eva lay down and said:
“Sheera, come here; put you head near my breasts. And Tonga, come behind me, I want to feel your pussy on my hips.” She closed her eyes, caressing Sheera’s neck and feeling the balmy African night wrap her and her girls.
Sheera was feeling aroused after having sucked Eva’s nipple and licked that cream from her finger; she burned to touch herself, or to go to Tonga and ask her to play, as they had done some times. But she wanted badly a bulawa; she had just witnessed, with her own eyes, what it could make one feel. She crossed her hands behind her head: better to avoid any temptation – she didn’t want to be weaker the next day!
The girl kept repeating to herself: “two things: not touch, and bring Taranga, not touch, bring Taranga…” “And soon she was asleep. Eva and Tonga had already sunk in a blissful sleep; the hut went silent, and so it remained until the first sunrays entered it a few hours later.
A new day was beginning. Sheera stood up quietly: she did not want to wake up Miss. As she went out of the hut, the sky was rosy in the east; she washed her face and went to see Taranga, who was still asleep. Sheera touched her leg and said:
“Taranga! Wake up, Miss has sent for you!”
The Nubian opened her eyes:
“Come, quick! Miss wants you at her hut!”
Taranga sat up and stretched her arms, feeling her breasts heavy. She glanced at the baby sleeping on a side of her cot, tied up her hide and followed Sheera.
Eva smiled as they entered the hut; she had asked Tonga to fetch water for her morning ablutions.
“I brought her as you have asked, Miss”, said Sheera, kneeling down and parting her knees. Eva motioned the other girl closer:
“Beautiful Taranga, you milk was so sweet last evening that I could not get the taste out of my mouth. May I have it this morning?”
“Yes”, said the young woman.
“Say yes, Miss!”
Taranga corrected herself:
“Sheera, did you see the stone Samba has in her hut, that smaller one? I want you to get two or three the same size, to serve as stools. It is not comfortable to sit always on this cot.” She turned to Taranga:
“Come here, dear, and give Miss her breakfast.”
Taranga nodded; she was proud to see how much the lady liked her milk. She knelt by Eva, cupping her right breast; a drop escaped from the nipple. Eva leaned forward and began to suckle; she drained it in long gulps, pressing the nipple with her tongue while the liquid gushed into her avid mouth.
Reaching out under the girl’s pelt, Eva touched her clit. Since giving birth, Taranga had not been with any girl; she was eager for a caress, so she opened a bit more her legs.
“She will associate having pleasure with feeding me”, Eva thought as she moved faster on the soaked clit. The girl was beginning to contract for an orgasm; she decided to let her have it. She fingered that clit in the most expert way she knew, and in two minutes Taranga was shaking her body and having a most welcome climax.
Eva rose up; Sheera was still kneeling, waiting for her pussy to be touched. Eva went to her sack and pulled out a plastic bag, from which she chose a small ring.
“Taranga, I want to thank you for being so kind”, she said, waving the ring in front of her eyes. She smiled as the expected effect appeared once more: the Nubian’s eyes were following her movements, as if she was being hypnotized.
“I had thought to give you something to adorn your nipples, but they could come in the way of your baby’s feeding. So I decided to offer you this very special bulawa: a ring that to be worn on your pussy, so that you feel a lot of pleasure when it is touched. Do you want it, sweet Taranga?”
The girl was so ecstatic that she could not speak.
“What do you say, Taranga? Yes or no?”
“Yes… yes, Miss!”
“That may cause a little pain, but you will look splendid with it on. Sheera, fetch me that sack!”
Sheera did as she was told. Eva got some cotton pads and dipped them in alcohol; ordering Taranga to lie back on her cot, she told Sheera to hold one of her ankles. At that very moment, Tonga came into the hut with a bucket of fresh water; Eva told her to grip the girl’s second ankle and lifted her skirt, exposing one of the finest pair of labia she had ever seen.
The photographer took a piercing tool from the bag and cleaned with a cotton pad the spot where she would mark the Amazon’s cunt. It was the upper part of the labia, so that the ring would not hamper her being penetrated when she mated again. She pressed the instrument on the left labium; Taranga uttered a muffed sound and tried to close her legs, but Sheera and Tonga held her ankles firmly apart.