Chapter Text
The three fishermen were kneeling before her, averting their eyes out of respect. One had delivered the news, and Queen Awa was not sure how to take it.
Her most important followers awaited her judgment with baited breath. Among them were her eldest daughters: Mariama and Oumou had earned their reputations as huntresses and warriors, while Aissa was well on her way to become a priestess. Awa's heart always swelled with pride at the mere sight of them.
Now, she was pondering the news which she'd been given. Three tall ships had been seen, with great sails that carried them across the open water. She did not know where they went, and she had no interest in finding out.
"Where did they go?" she asked. Her implication was done out of hope, and she was bitterly disappointed.
"They have not gone," replied one of the fishermen. "They have set up camp on our southern border. Just beyond your realm."
"Was that done by chance, or by choice?"
It was Mariama, her eldest daughter at twenty-three, who'd called out the question. She bore a scar across her shoulder from a leopard which she'd hunted as a rite of passage. Ever since that hunt, she proudly wore its skin as a cape. She was also proud of her body, well-muscled and athletic as it was, and prouder still that she had never once been claimed by a man. She also boasted that she could pleasure women better than any man in their tribe. Like most women in the tribe, she proudly bared her breasts. That was, in part, because of the thick piercings in her nipples, made out of slivers of leopard bone.
Her question had been asked with a challenging tone. The spokesman for the fishermen gave a helpless shrug. "We do not know their intent. We kept our distance."
Queen Awa did not blame them. It was an ominous sight for anyone who lived on this land. Thousands had been taken aboard those ships, none of them by choice. The pale men who crewed these ships were ever eager for slaves, and they paid well.
She herself had profited mightily from trading with those men from across the sea. They had taken land for themselves five days up the coast, turning it into a permanent market. Goods were bartered for, or else purchased with materials that any tribe coveted. Queen Awa had sent many of her enemies to that market, confident that they would never return to topple her from power.
She still recalled her first deal with these men. She had been seventeen, the half-sister of a weak king. She and several of her followers had gone out, captured several bands of their hostile neighbours, and taken them to the pale men. From there, Awa had begun building her reputation and her fortunes in one fell swoop.
More followers had joined her, confident in her strength and future. Her half-brother was soft, but he had many relatives who weren't. It had been a long war, but after her enemies were either slain in battle or sold to the white slavers, Awa had triumphed. Now, she had passed her forty-seventh year, having ruled as queen for twenty-eight of them.
All throughout her reign, the pale men had served as useful allies, ridding her of anyone that might try to usurp her or cause trouble. Criminals were sent away, as were those enemies whom she conquered. Her guards even bore the weapons of the pale men. Flintlock muskets, they were called. Truthfully, they were of little use, being slow to load compared to a bow. They served better as symbols of her power.
However, this news was troubling. This was the first time that the pale men had ventured this far to make land. They had often sailed past, but never stopped. Awa had always preferred it that way; no matter how useful she found the pale men to be, they were not her friends. She did not fail to note the cruelty with which they treated their slaves, and she had never sensed that they thought highly of her. She also knew of their insatiable lusts; for conquest, wealth, and flesh.
"We shall see what they want," she decreed. "I will remind them that I am no enemy, but I will not hesitate to become one."
They were bold words, and they were quickly cheered by those around her.
"I will go with you, Mother," Mariama declared. She said it as a statement rather than a request.
'She is as stubborn as I was,' Awa thought fleetingly. Still, she did not think it wise. She would have preferred that Mariama remain behind, as her heir.
However, before Awa could finish opening her mouth to say so, her second daughter echoed the sentiment.
Oumou, like her older sister, was a proud woman. She was not as strong as Mariama, but she was taller and leaner. Swift and agile, she was wise in the ways of hunting. No arrow flew faster or swifter than hers, and none found a mark more consistently.
"We will show these men that your rule is secure," Oumou urged as she knelt before the queen. Like her sister, she wore a cape of animal hide. Hers had come from an antelope, but she had outlined it with a myriad of feathers. They were all from birds that she'd felled with her arrows: swifts, parrots, ducks, flamingoes, turacos, even owls and eagles.
Awa turned to Aissa, her third daughter. "You ought to stay behind," she mused.
Predictably, Aissa misliked that notion. "Who else will bring the gods' favour, Mama?"
Rare among the women of Awa's people, Aissa was dressed modestly in light robes of woven hair and furs. Her cape included a modest shawl, as befitting those who devoted their lives to become priestesses. She was a gentle young woman, said to sing so sweetly that the birds themselves fluttered down to perch on her fingers. Her body was beautifully plump, due to her position as a princess and priestess. Like her sisters, she was much desired and respected by Awa's people.
"I will not have you introduced to these men," Awa explained. "These men are not to be trusted, and they may set a trap for us."
A tall and formidable woman stepped forward. "My queen, if I may?"
Fatimata was the captain of her guards. She'd taken ten wounds for Awa in a dozen battles. For six years, she and Mariama had also been lovers. After a particularly vicious attack during a lion hunt, Fatimata had cut and burned away one her left breast. She always japed that this was for the best, as it allowed her to draw an arrow all the more easily.
Now she knelt before Awa as the queen leaned forward. "My queen, if this proves to be a trap, or if it comes to battle, who better to bring than Aissa? She was taught by the best healers of our people, and she will not shirk from that task."
Awa didn't like it, but she did agree with her captain. "Very well," she declared in a loud voice. "You will accompany us too, Aissa."
---
More than seventy of Awa's best warriors accompanied her to the pale men's camp, including Fatimata and her three oldest daughters. Her other children remained behind, with Awa's younger sister, Mollio.
The camp was well established. The great boat, with its monstrous white wings, rested on the beach. Around it, the pale men had cut down trees and fashioned them into a palisade. The logs were sharp on top, as a hindrance to anyone who might try to climb over.
As with their larger market further north, they had mounted a wooden pole from which flew what they called a 'flag'. Awa was familiar with a few of these flags, but the one she knew best had a strange design of white, red, and blue stripes. Such a flag now flew above the palisade.
Three pale men stood before the palisade, holding muskets in their hands. Awa was not troubled by that; she'd brought muskets of her own, along with her best archers. This would be a fight that she would win if it came to that. Still, she halted her troops and waited to see what these men did.
One ran inside the palisade and soon returned with a fourth. He was younger than the others and far better dressed. The clothes of these pale men were remarkable; they were made of materials that they called 'cotton' and 'linen'. Awa had tried them on herself at times, but they were far too warm for the jungle. All the same, she now wore the cape which had been gifted to her ten years before. It had been a bright orange colour, but now had faded to a light shade of brown.
"Good day," the young man called out in his native tongue.
"Good day," Awa repeated. She had learned English over the years, and though she did not know a great deal of words, she knew enough to communicate.
"I am Captain Braxton Sarsfield of the Thirteen Colonies," the young man declared as he put a hand on his chest.
"I am Queen Awa," she replied in her thick accented English, "of the Igoksu people. You are close to my land. Why have you come here?"
The captain was smiling, but Awa could not understand why. The three guards were looking at her with disrespect and wariness, as pale men often did, but they were also looking at her breasts with a lusty expression.
"It is an honour to host such a royal guest," Sarsfield declared. He spread his arms and gave a nod. "And we have heard of your name before. That was why we made sure not to step on your land."
Awa glanced back to her daughters. All three were apprehensive, frowning as they tried to follow what was being said. Awa had tried to teach them the language, so that they too might learn how to communicate with these pale men, but it fell to Aissa to translate for her sisters in hushed whispers.
Turning back, the great queen folded her arms beneath her breasts. "That is no answer to my question."
"Of course," Sarsfield replied, looking impressed. Awa was getting the impression that he thought her stupid, and her ability to reason with him was something he hadn't expected. She wanted to punish him, but he had not committed any outright insult yet.
"We wish to feast with you," Sarsfield declared. "We have brought food and drink for you, mighty queen. Will you not be our guests?"
Awa was uneasy; a feast in her honour was nothing new to her, but the tribes who hosted her did so out of fear of her, and she had never imagined that the pale men feared her or her people. She did not hesitate to put her doubt into words. "Why would you feast me?"
"Because you have given us many slaves," Sarsfield explained. "My uncle was Captain Jubal Drayton."
Awa relaxed; she knew that name very well. Captain Drayton had been one of the first men to whom she'd sold slaves. For fifteen years, he had come and gone from the market, always agreeing to her prices without argument or question. Awa had suspected that he'd done so out of desire for her, but he was an older man without charm, good looks, or royal title.
All the same, this was reassuring news. "How is your uncle?"
"He is alive and well," Sarsfield answered with a smile. "He sends you his warm regards."
"Regards?" She did not know that word. "What is that?"
"It means that he greets you from across the wide water," Sarsfield explained patiently.
Awa was growing more relaxed, but she still misliked the notion of feasting with these pale men.
When she did not speak, Sarsfield spread his arms out again. "May I suggest that we lay aside our weapons? We will each choose a guard to watch over the weapons whilst the rest of us feast."
"My queen," Fatimata suddenly interjected. "I would be honoured to serve as your guard."
Awa was surprised by the alacrity of the request, but she did not think it a bad one. She would likely have chosen the captain of her guard anyway, if her daughters did not wish to feast.
"So be it," she declared. "We shall feast."
---
Sarsfield and his men proved to be fine hosts. They had come down the coast from the market, and so were well provisioned with food. They had also brought several large casks of strong water which the pale men often drank. Awa had once been told that the pale men could not stomach the water which she and her people drank freely.
If that was true, then the same might be said of the pale men's water. It had a variety of tastes, but regardless, it had a very strange effect on Awa as she drank. Her vision became less clear, she laughed more readily, and movement became difficult.
As was custom among her people, she sat with her fellow chief, this young captain who spoke so courteously. He told her more of his uncle, their home, and his own journeys across the sea. She often needed to ask the meaning of words he used, but he was only too pleased to explain.
Around her, the huntresses and warrior women that she brought were also affected by the pale men's water. The pale men were surprisingly courteous and humble, offering to refill their cups whenever they ran dry, as if they were servants.
Only once was there a moment which Awa thought would lead to trouble. Her eldest daughter, Mariama, was approached by a pale man who seemed interested in having a way with her. Mariama seemed to have lost some of her senses, but she was not so far gone as to forget her preferences. When the man tried to touch her breast, Mariama lashed out, shoving him backwards and giving a great shout of anger. Others arose to defend her, but the pale man did not meet her challenge.
"Forgive me," he muttered, keeping his head down submissively. "I forgot myself, so I did."
Awa was incensed, but Sarsfield assured her hastily that the man would be punished after the feast. Thus, she silently urged Mariama to accept his apology.
After that, the feast continued without further incident. A few of Awa's warriors were more receptive to advances, including Awa's second daughter Oumou. Awa watched her go aboard the boat, holding the hand of the tallest of Sarsfield's men. Awa disapproved, but her daughter was a grown woman. 'Mayhaps she will be careful,' she reasoned to herself, even as Sarsfield drew her attention back to himself.
"Tell me," he urged her, with that same charming smile upon his face, "is it true that you still lead your warriors into battle?"
Awa was surprised by how youthful this man was; he could not have been older than Mariama, and yet he had already brought a boat across the wide water to her home. 'He is handsome too,' she suddenly thought. 'Very handsome indeed.'
She suddenly giggled, as if he'd proffered a joke rather than a question. "If there was a battle tomorrow," she answered, "I would be the first of my people to raise weapon."
"You must have fought many great battles," Sarsfield remarked, even as his eyes looked up and down her body. Awa surmised that he was referring to the scars she'd taken in hunts and wars alike.
Thus she began to speak of her own reign, explaining how she had proved herself as a warrior, won the loyalty of others with her skills and personal wealth, and then defeated all those who stood in her way.
"I congratulate you," Sarsfield declared; he even stood up and bowed to her, prompting another giggle from Awa. "It seems that your gods thought well of your cleverness."
"Clever, yes," Awa echoed. She thought her voice sounded strange, but she forgot her doubts as Sarsfield spoke again.
"Indeed, it seems that my people played a great role in your success. It was very clever of you to do business with us."
"Yes," Awa agreed.
"Your husband must have been grateful to marry such a great woman," Sarsfield suggested.
That made her burst out laughing, until she had to hold her sides from mirth.
"You have no husband, then?" Sarsfield asked curiously.
"There is no word in our people's tongue," Awa slowly explained, "for that word."
"I see," Sarsfield remarked, smiling again. "You have no marriages?"
"No," Awa answered. She had heard that word before as well. It always amused her to see the looks of pale men when she told them that a woman was not owned by the man who bore her children. A woman could be a warrior as easily as she could become a mother. She might devote her life to the gods as a priestess, just as her youngest daughter had chosen to do. She might spend her days with other women, as Mariama was wont to do.
Sarsfield seemed surprised by what she said, but his courtesy did not diminish. Remarkably, he seemed to understand and respect her. Perhaps it was the effect of the strong water, but it seemed to Awa as though he might be interested in her. She certainly noticed how he would glance at her bare breasts. She had decorated herself with all the finery that a worthy ruler of the Igoksu might wear. Her necklaces were decorated with the bones of great animals and mighty warriors that she'd slain.
Alongside her linen cape, she wore a mighty headress sporting countless feathers and precious stones.
She was a mighty queen, even now. Sarsfield's conduct was almost a reassurance. How silly she'd been to doubt whether these pale men dared to make an enemy of her. She had brought only a fraction of the warriors that she could command, and each one would commit heroic acts in her name.
As she accepted another drink from Sarsfield, his fingers brushed against the back of her hand. He was friendly in the way that pale men became when they were hoping for a woman's personal favour.
Awa was surprised how flattered she was by this handsome young man's attention. At one point, she suddenly realised that he had his hand on her knee. She couldn't remember him putting it there.
"Tell me," Sarsfield asked quietly, leaning his face towards hers. "Have you ever been given a tour of our ships?"
The queen frowned as she tried to think; it was very difficult to focus on a single thought. She could not recall ever going aboard the ships themselves, but she could not put her finger on why she hadn't.
"If you'd allow me?" Sarsfield offered, standing up and holding out his hand. In the firelight, his handsome face seemed to glow.
Awa found herself giggling again as she accepted his hand, rising to her feet as she followed him up an unsteady plank. Several times, she'd nearly lost her balance, but Sarsfield and another crew member helped her aboard. She hesitated at the liberal way the man behind her put his hands on her form, especially when she felt her loincloth being torn away from her, but by then, she'd stepped onto the ship, and Sarsfield was pressing her against a mast.
She gave a muffled squeal as their lips touched, and his tongue confidently began to explore. She felt his hands go up to her breasts and give them both a squeeze. Much to her surprise and shame, she gave a loud appreciative moan whilst his white fingers dug into her soft black flesh.
"What songs they'll sing of me," Sarsfield gasped when he broke off their kiss. "The captain who conquered a queen."
He was grinning as he said it; of course it was a jape. Awa allowed him to lead her down a flight of stairs, past several doors in a wooden hallway. Sarsfield opened one of the doors and pulled her inside.
She tried to help him undress, but he simply laughed as he guided her to her knees. That was more to her liking anyway, for she felt unsteady on her feet.
Awa found herself looking at a pale pink cock; it was not quite so large as the men in her tribe, but she was intrigued by it all the same. It tasted differently when he thrust it past her full lips. She gave a grunt of surprise, but she felt something stir within her. She tried to suck this new manhood as she felt him grab her by the hair and hold her in place.
"Queen Nigger," Sarsfield groaned. "That's all you are, at the end of the day."
Awa did not know what that word meant. She had heard pale men call her that several times, and from their faces, they seemed to intend it as an insult. Hearing Sarsfield say it in that voice gave her some pause.
Before she could gather her thoughts, however, he suddenly stepped back so that his cock slipped out of her mouth. With no small effort, the young captain pulled Awa upward and then pushed her backward so that she fell with rump on the cot in the middle of the room.
Sarsfield loomed up over her and guided her to spread her considerable legs apart. She felt utterly exposed, and slightly embarrassed to be in such a submissive position. But it also thrilled her, in a strange way. No man had ever dared to treat her like this, and as the captain pushed his manhood into her cunt, she found that she was remarkably wet.
A slurping noise broke out as he began to thrust. He laughed at the sound as Awa moaned from embarrassment and lust at the same time.
She could not guess how long they'd been there, rutting like beasts. She was overwhelmed by what was happening, so that she could barely react except to breathe as best she could, until her body's climax drove her to shout in ecstasy.
Eventually, Sarsfield's laughter gave way to ragged gasps, then a loud animal-like cry. Awa was crying out too as his seed spurted inside her.
"This is God's natural order," Sarsfield whispered contentedly. "You're gonna see that, nigger. You all will."
Awa might have questioned that, or even suspected the true intentions of this young man, but she was already falling into a deep slumber. Lying on her back in this cot, she felt her body give way to the sensation, embracing sleep. The last thing she felt was his manhood slipping back out of her, leaving her body with a squelching noise. It had been a long time since she'd felt this satisfied by a man.
---
The sun had begun to rise when she next awoke. She still felt sluggish from the previous night's feast. Sarsfield was not in the bed either, much to her surprise. She began to wonder whether she had imagined the night before, until she reached down with her hand and felt a dried substance clinging to the loose folds of her cunt.
She felt embarrassed. It had been bad enough when her daughter had consented to be claimed by one of these men, it was quite another when the queen herself should put aside her dignity.
Groaning, Awa looked around the small cabin as she blinked sleep from her eyes. Her cape and crown were nowhere to be seen, as with all her other possessions. 'Did Sarsfield steal them?'
All of a sudden, there was large bang. It took her a moment to realise that the noise had come from the door to her quarters, thrown open with such force that it crashed against the wooden wall. By the time she understood, however, they were already putting their hands upon her.
She might have been past her prime, but she was still a warrior queen who knew how to defend herself. Awa began lashing out with her limbs, but before she could scream, a man covered her mouth with a large hand. Five men surrounded her cot, grunting and cursing as they tried to pin her down.
As several hands took hold of her writhing body, she bit the hand which gagged her. The hand’s owner cursed as he recoiled, but Awa sensed that he was amused rather than alarmed. Before Awa could scream a single word, another man stuffed a foul smelling rag into her mouth.
“We prepared this for you right and special,” one of the sailors remarked in a taunting voice. "Fit for a queen, it is."
The sudden rank taste caused her to grunt and cough, distracting her as the men seized her brawny arms and powerful legs. A second rag, far more pungent in scent than the first, was tightly bound over her lips and secured behind her back. Only after the second gag was secured, and the first coil of rope was looped around her wrist, did she realise what she was smelling and tasting.
"MMMMPHHH," Awa wailed in disgust and rage as she felt men's fingers digging roughly into her skin, even as she was steadily becoming more and more helpless.
“Turn her,” one man hissed. They strove to roll her onto her stomach, whereupon they immediately began binding her arms behind her back. Once her wrists were secured, the men pulled her up into a kneeling position on the bed. They quickly bound her arms to her sides so that she was properly trussed. The men were also careful enough to coil the rope above and beneath her breasts, causing them to swell and grow sore.
"MMMPH," she screamed as men began slapping her breasts whilst her legs were bound so that her knees could not open up again. She could only kneel as a frog sat, forced to keep her thighs apart and expose herself in ways that she'd never dreamed of experiencing.
Awa tried to shriek curses over the sound of the men's triumphant laughter and jeering. Her skin was slippery with sweat as she writhed and struggled. Her eyes were watering from the smell and taste of her gags. She felt her muscles bulge against the ropes, but it was a battle she could not win.
As they bound her, they took gleeful advantage of her immobility. Hands groped and prodded her, squeezed and pinched her. They seized her breasts and yanked them hard enough to make her sob with pain. One man rammed his fingers inside of her, then stuffed those fingers up both her nostrils, so that she could only smell her own cunt as she desperately breathed through her nose.
Suddenly, on the other side of the cot, Sarsfield appeared, grinning at the sight of her as she stared in shock at him. For a moment, she was unable to even attempt to speak, even as he grabbed her breasts where they stuck out stiffly in front of her.
"I told you, didn't I?" the captain gloated as he squeezed her breasts. She whimpered at the sensation, but she managed to turn that noise into a snarl as the perilousness of her situation sank in.
"This is God's will," Sarsfield remarked cheerfully as he drew a dirk from his belt. "And my uncle's too, if we're keeping score. He sends his regards." Ignoring her terror at the naked metal blade, he seized a handful of her bountiful, glorious hair. As two men held her in position, Sarsfield began to slice.
The knife's sharpness was such that she screamed more from shock and indignation than pain. But as most of her hair fell onto the deck in massive clumps, it inspired a furious tirade from her gagged mouth. All it did was provoke yet more laughter.
"You were too proud for him," Sarsfield gloated before spitting onto her face. "You were too proud for your own good. Nigger queens like you are the best ones for us to take. You never think anyone's ever gonna betray you."
'Betray?' Her eyes widened as she tried to think of who might have done it.
That was when she saw a familiar figure standing in the doorway. Her skin was dark, her smile was a bright white, her eyes flashed with sadistic pleasure. 'How long was she there,' Awa thought. A wave of shame swept over her, to be seen like this in such a crude position.
The shame quickly gave way to outrage as Fatimata stepped forward and spat upon her face like Sarsfield had done.
"MMMPHH!" Awa snarled. "YMPH MMPPHMM!"
"All hail the queen," Fatimata taunted. "Give my regards to your enemies, if you find them again."
"She won't," Sarsfield assured her. "She ain't going anywhere except my uncle's plantation. He's been saving a place in his house for her. As for me, I've had my taste, but now it's time to try someone else. Which of your daughters should I take first?"
Two men continued to hold her as she redoubled her writhing, shrieking into her gags as hot tears poured down her cheeks.
"Break her in, boys," Sarsfield told the others. "You five get second tastes."
The first of the men knelt between her legs and began to push himself inside her. Awa shrieked yet again to express her shock and rage, but it did nothing to stop this unworthy man's member pushing past the dark loose folds which covered her pink womanhood.
Most shockingly of all, she felt pleasure along with the pain. She tried to curse the grinning men who groped and spat upon her with wild abandon. The man fucking her seemed to enjoy the sound of her attempts at speech, for his speed and force intensified. She gave a muffled shriek of rage and shame as she felt her body convulse with an orgasm, even as it hastened his inside of her. Before she could finish reeling from this peak, he withdrew from her and got off the bed. A second man took his place. Awa felt two fingers, slippery with some sort of substance, rubbed against the inner walls of her anus. The man soon replaced his fingers with his cock, prompting another loud moan from Awa.
She did not know how long they were in her cabin, or how many times each man spent himself inside of her. By the end, however, when the last man finally spent himself for good, her sheets were damp. They had covered her, inside and out, with their seed. Her limbs were burning, her crevices were numb, her head was spinning, her jaw was sore from the soggy gag in her mouth, and the sun had risen so far into the sky that it cast a shaft of light across her swollen breasts.
“That’s about all I can take,” one of the men remarked wearily as he gave her rear one final slap.
Awa whimpered into her gags, then gave a moan as someone else pulled one of her sore nipples.
“Oh, you ain’t finished yet,” replied the man. “Not by a long shot, Majesty."