Posted by Barbanne on November 18, 1999 at 23:40:40:
THE CLEOPATRA PLOT
PART FOUR.
We continued up the Nile until one day we reached Al Khartum, where the river divided and became its two tributaries, the Blue Nile and the White Nile. Beyond this point the boat would not go. It was time for us to begin our journey across the dusty plains and into the high mountains to the south.
Al Khartum was famous as a centre for the slave trade which supplied Egypt and the Arab world. It was from here that caravans set out trailing long lines of splendid Nubian slaves, yoked neck to neck, transporting them to Morrocco, Timbuktu and Alexandria. Here we decided we would obtain slaves of our own to act as porters on the long trip south.
Petra and I were given the task of buying these male and female beasts of burden and we went to a famed compound slightly out of the main town where the women slave masters of Al Khartum kept their cargo of human misery for all to inspect and select from. It was a great sprawling place and slaves were kept in close confinement in long sheds as well as in fenced yards where they roamed restlessly, staring boldly at two women such as us and passing extremely lewd and suggestive comments regarding what they'd like to do to us or what we should do to ourselves.
The whole place stank and the idea of all those people confined in such small areas sickened me who valued my freedom above my life. Petra entered into negotiations with two evil looking women slavers regarding the purchase of a number of Nubian men and women to serve as cooks and porters for our forthcoming journey. I tired easily of the incessant haggling and wandered into a darkened, timber walled, factory, intrigued by the misery that was so readily apparent anywhere one looked.
I heard a woman's voice, harsh and screeching, and turned into a blind offshoot of the factory. It was dimly lit by sun filtering in through a slatted roof and my eyes bugged as I saw what was happening. It takes a moment to describe the scene but you must realise that I took it all in in an instant. The first thing thst registered with me was a naked man. He was tall and thin and very good looking and had long straight hair and white skin and was very well equipped. He was just the feller I realised I needed. I saw all this because he was hanging against the wall from wrist straps and the woman I had heard, a skinny, dark haired, witchy looking slaver dressed in the brief leather tunic they all wore, was screaming at the man and had his manhood in one hand and a long, curved, wicked looking knife in the other and seemed intent on parting the one from the other. He looked understandably concerned.
My Celtic temper volcanoed.
Here was the bloke I'd been dreaming of and this bitch was about to render him useless. I roared and saw complete red, blood boiling through my veins and my head. I crossed the space between us on winged feet. The dame looked around startled by my yelling. She dropped his manhood and the knife in her hand fell to her side and her mouth gaped in shock as her eyes widened. I was OTT and my right arm came swinging from way behind my back and collected her smack in the moosh.
No.........more like WHACK!!!!!
Blood blooped from her nose and spittle flew out of her mouth. The knife cartwheeled away. Her head snapped back and I had a view of reddened tonsils and rotten teeth and then down she went. CRACK!!!!!her head smashed into the floor and she was spread out, out cold. I stood there heaving, gasping breath into my lungs, tits heaving, tummy rippling and roiling. I put my hands on my knees and took some awfully deep breaths and then picked up the knife and cut the guy free. He slumped to his knees and said "Thanks."
"BITCH!!!!!!!!!" I spat on the broad. She hadn't twitched. She was far gone into bye bye land. The racket had attracted others and they came running. Among them were Petra and her sales ladies.
"What the hell????" She said.
"I'm taking him." I pointed at my new found friend.
"Veree dangerous person," chortled the slave mistresses, "veree dangerous and most rebellious. You be sorree."
"I WANT HIM!!!"
"OK," said Petra, "how much?"
"Fifty dinarii."
"Twenty five."
"Thirty."
"Done."
"Come on," I said, "you're with me." He stood there naked but retaining his dignity and he cracked a lop sided smile and my heart went flippety floppety.
"Poor Esmera." the slavers were bending over the chick I had decked who still hadn't moved. One had a bucket of water and was dabbing some onto her face with no result.
"Allow me." I said and taking the water I flung the whole bucketful straight in under Esmera's short skirt where I could see her pussy winking at me. It was ice cold and she went "ooooooooooooooooooopppppppppppp" and sat straight up as if someone had just turned her on again and her hands clutched at her groin and her cheeks sunk in towards each other.
We left.
Esmera was spitting and snotting and going "oooooopppp" and "eeerrrrpppp"
Petra had bought six men and six women, all gorgeous ebony creatures and we led them back to the boat. I walked my purchase back myself. I hadn't bothered to get him any clothes because golleeee, the man was built. He was sort of thin and wiry but he was sculpted and hard. I skipped along, prancing around him taking in the view from all angles. His pecs, oooer, his buns, yummeee, his manhood guuuuuuulp. I found out his name was Mo-Ooki and he was from a land far to the west. "As far as Eire?" I asked. "Farther." He replied. That was beyond my comprehension but who cared where he came from. He wuz mine.
When we reached the boat we settled the slaves and I reluctantly found a tunic for Mo-Ooki. The girls decided that as this was our last night on water, before the trek began the next day, that we should have a party. It was a hot balmy night and I dressed in a sort of tasseled skirt made up from hundreds of fine braided cords that fell from a wide waistband that hung very low on my hips and a matching bra that was totally transparent. The skirt was a fav of mine because every movement swished the cords and glimpses of me popped up and then disappeared continuously. I wore not another thing underneath so my girlish charms were constantly being offered and withdrawn. The ultimate tease.
Most of the other women were bra-less although Chrisinus wasn't showing her boobs to anyone. "Good" I thought. I hoped to keep Mo-Ooki's attention on me.
Petra decided I should dance to entertain them and I swirled around the deck with braids flying and my sinuous twirls and occasional high kicks gave my audience an intimate acquaintance with whatever I had to offer. They lounged around and drank and ate and I danced my little legs off. Dancing was one of my boudoir skills and I wasn't bad at it, not bad at all. Mo-Ooki had been invited to the shindig and my most daring movements had been executed as I twirled and spun closest to him. My eyes had rarely left his face and I felt heat and longing whenever I saw him watching me. I felt sure he must want me as I wanted him and I wondered, amazed, that a man could have the devestating effect on me that he had had from the moment that morning when I first laid eyes on him. I knew that my sweating skin had as much to do with my lust for his body as it did with my exertions and I knew that others had noticed my opened mouth, my panting breaths and my goosebumped flesh and when I finally settled in a swirl of skirt at his feet, Petra rose and said. "I can stand this no longer." Taking my wrist she pulled me up to my feet and passed me to Mo-Ooki. "Here. Take her away and get acquainted."
"Oi" I said.
Everyone there laughed uproariously and, red faced, Mo-Ooki led me to one of the bedrooms.
Once inside he closed the door behind us and spun me around and kissed me hard on the lips. I wanted to melt into his kiss but I felt he would only despise me if I gave in too soon. I jerked back and stood staring at him, my full lower lip growing ever fuller from the puffiness as it swelled from his kiss. His hand reached out and his long sensitive fingers brushed down me, tracing the line of my throat, the swell of my breast and then the taut muscles of my tummy and the flair of my hips. It felt as though his hand was alight as his barest touch ignited my skin and it blazed with the tingling fire of desire. He slipped his hand inside the waist band of my skirt and slid it around until it reached the clasp and, dexterously, he flipped it open and my braided cording swirled down my legs and splayed around my feet. I knew I was losing then and when his fingers touched my velvety soft inner thighs and tippy toed up to the feminine petals of my womanhood and parted them and went in search of my awakening bud of desire it was all over for me.
I was lost.
I was his.
His other hand freed my bra and it shucked off and away and he pulled me to him and I clawed desperately at his clothes, almost ripping them, as I got them off of his body. I drew back and gazed at his hard, lean, male body and my eyes burned with lust and my pussy flared with tight slick heat.
"Oh Mo-Ooki," I panted, "I love you as I never thought I could love. I feel as though Caesar's army has overwhelmed me and smashed me with its might, such is the effect you have had on me in a few short hours."
"Barbanne, Queen of my dreams." He murmured.
Then he pulled me to him and, tilting my chin, kissed me hard and long, his tongue forcing its way into my mouth and the honeyed velvety roughness of our two tongues met and I sucked the sweetness of his breath into my lungs. My breasts were crushed against his chest, my flattened nipples straining to pop free. He had both globes of my ass in his hands and pulled me roughly onto his swollen hardness. My mouth was pressed against his cheek and I rasped, "In me inside me Mo-Ooki, I want you inside me now!" He took my hand and placed it on his shaft, "Guide me my darling." I grasped his manhood firmly in my fingers and led his magical tip to the fluttering petals of my femininity and let it find its way between the folds. "Now my darling, ram me!" I hissed. His manhood slid inside, totally filling my pouch until I was sure it must reach my kidneys.
We fell backwards onto the soft depths of the bed.
It was absolute heaven.
Then he started to thrust and heaven was transcended.
His pillar went in...out...in again, sliding on the creamy oils of my wetness. I was rushing to climax and so was he. Then he withdrew it almost completely and it poised, the head quivering between my crepey lips. I felt more aliveness and more expectancy than I had known possible and then he rammed his piston in again. Three long hard strokes and my body exploded in an orgasm that fountained skywards.
I was dead.
Le petit mort!!!!!!!!!!
I gasped and gasped again. My belly rippled and heat spread from my groin and enveloped me. Lassitude washed across me and ever so slowly I raised my eyelids to half mast and peered out at him. He smiled at me. That lop sided smile.
I hugged him to me and then my waterworks burst and my tears fell like rain.
Tears of happiness.............tears of joy.
I was in love.
The next morning we assembled for the start of our journey to the south.
Petra came to me. I was glowing like a whisky soak's nose.
"Found a friend Barbanne?"
"Oh yes Petra. I'm SO happy."
"Still have time for an old friend?"
"Yes Petra." I touched her shoulder lightly and standing on tip toe, kissed her in rather warmer fashion than befitted old friends.
She asked me to go to the home of Sarita, an Al Khartumian prostitute, where I would be given a sealed parcel which I was to bring back to her. Sarita lived less than ten minutes away and the task would take me less than the half hour by which time we would be ready to leave.
I skipped off on my task through streets reeking of poverty. Sarita lived in a hovel in a run down part of town. I found it without trouble and knocked at the half open door.
No answer.
I knocked again and stuck my head in. "Sarita?"
Nothing.
I pushed the door open and went in.
"Sarita. Are you there?"
A small living space led to a bedroom. I walked across and peered in. Sarita, I guessed it was her, lay on her back on a rumpled bed. She was a tall, white skinned, black haired, young woman and her bare legs led to a dark curly bush, a tiny bulging tummy and upthrust breasts topped with nipples like strawberries on ice cream cones. Her face was staring at the ceiling, rich plum coloured lips parted and eyes wide open. Towering above her body was a long elaborately carved dagger which had been plunged into her chest midway between her breasts. I crossed and looked down. Thick red blood drooled from her lips and snaked lazily down her jaw and over her white throat.
No question that she was dead.
I heard a scuffling noise and, even as I turned, something hard crashed into my back and drove me to the floor.
******