Anthea s baby 1
- 2 years ago
- 390
- 0
The Missionary's DaughterChapter 4 free porn video
Since the eastern side of the hut was the forested side, there was little light until late in the morning, and Julie could not believe it when she was awakened. It still seemed the middle of the night, and she was certainly tired enough that it had to be! But already Kubby was tending more little loaves of bread on the stone stove. She imagined that he had finished grinding the flour she had begun to grind the night before, yet it seemed inconceivable to her that he had arisen and done that and made the bread between the time he had fucked her last night and right now. Yet there he was. Perhaps these primitive creatures didn't sleep, was a brief, silly idea that flashed temporarily through her tired mind.
What she most wanted to do when she woke up was wash. The men let her go out by herself to find a suitable bush to use as a bathroom, but they would give her no water or place to wash.
"We wash you. We clean you for the spirits in the river," Balloo told her, leaving her puzzled. It wasn't clear to her whether they were going to wash her in the river or whether they were going to wash her to give to the spirits in the river. For a moment her heart froze, but then she remembered that there had been some talk about her being given back to her father with no marks on her, so apparently kiting her was not in their plans. However, there had to be some price they were demanding in return for her life or the entire kidnapping made no sense whatever.
For awhile, the men seemed to have lost interest in her physically. For one thing they were very excited because Enhar, usually out of grace and favor with everyone, had found an ostrich egg and breakfast would be sumptuous. Dawak, missing at first, came in with a skin of goat's milk, and then all stood around the big wooden bowl that Julie remembered from the night before and stirred and chanted and laughed as they beat the egg and some of the goat's milk and then poured it slowly on a hot flat stone over the fire, all roaring with laughter and helping with their wooden spoons to keep the egg mixture from running off the stone into the fire.
When it was time to eat, they brought her over naked to a mat at their table. They were so cool and indifferent toward her that she was not at all embarrassed to sit with them crosslegged, as one had to do with such a table. The little bread tasted much better with egg and goat's milk to go with it. Still, she was uncomfortable as she pictured herself sitting there, eating with her hands, unwashed, especially after such a night, and her long light brown hair awry and uncombed for want of anything to comb it with.
Finally, breakfast eaten, Balloo set the others to putting the little hut in order while he took the white girl outside and started with her into the jungle. She was still stark naked! Balloo had things in his arms. She thought maybe there was something in which she could wrap her fragile white body.
"Balloo, please give me something to wear," she begged as she stumbled after him. There was a slight path, but she was still amazed by how he so easily made his way.
"Soon," he assured her, and that's all he would say.
It was not long before they came to the river he had mentioned earlier in the morning. It had to be a small branch from the Gambia River, Julie decided. One of the things she had thought she had seen as they left the area of their hut, was another hut through the trees. At another point in their journey, she could have sworn she had heard low voices. Now as they broke through the edge of the jungle to approach the river, she saw that there were indeed other people around, mostly women here. They were laughers like the men she knew, and their broad teeth were dazzling in the morning sunlight.
Her appearance caused absolute consternation. One by one, as they saw her, they stopped whatever they were doing, their expressions froze in place on their laces, and they stared, looking her up and down with great curiosity. Momentarily, Julie thought how they looked at her as though they had never seen a white woman before, and then she stopped to think about it, realizing that they probably had not! The women never came to her father's mission house. One handsome woman was standing in the river, her huge tits just breaking water, unable to tear her big eyes from this strange sight, a girl with no color in her skin! Such things had been heard of before. Every once in awhile a single baby in one tribe or other was born without color in the skin or hair just as that thing happened sometimes among the animals. Since the animals preserved such creatures carefully, the natives preserved their albinos also, even though they rarely lived as long as anyone else, a though it was said that in a neighboring village there lived one of these strange ones to be the oldest of his people, but that was legend.
The surprising thing about this creature, though, the women noticed, was that although she had no color in her skin, she did have color in her hair, and so they didn't know how she was categorized. Julie noticed that a woman kneeling at the river, scrubbing some of the roughly worn material that the natives made for every day wear around here, had frozen with the garment half in the water. They came close to this woman and she was looking up at their approach, half in awe and half in fear. She trembled a little. Julie then saw that the woman's garment seemed to be trying to tug away from her. It was curious how instead of floating in the river, it kept dunking itself periodically, dunking and pulling.
Then Balloo slapped his hand onto her shoulder silently in a gesture that told her plainly to keep quiet and hold still. She looked up to see that he was staring at the garment as well. Stealthily he approached the kneeling woman, whose eyes had not left Julie's strange white body, and suddenly, he thrust himself down into the relatively shallow water at the river's edge at a point just beyond the garment. Up he came, laughing in gales even before the water had dripped from his eyes. He fumbled to his feet and was clearly holding a burden just under the water with both arms. Gradually he lifted them, and as he did, the garment lifted also. A great tortoise held the material firmly in his mouth and had withdrawn all his limbs and his head, still holding the garment, into his shell.
"Aaaiueee!" the woman screamed and dropped her end of the material gladly.
"You must wash yourself," Balloo told Julie. "I cannot put thees down." Apparently, he had meant to wash her. Well, she was glad for the appearance of the tortoise in that case.
"The dress here," she then asked because she noticed that one of the things he had been carrying and had dropped when he leaped into the river, seemed to be a robe of some kind. It looked like burlap although of a softer weave. "Is this mine?"
"Yes, but not unclean," he instructed coldly. She took that as a threat to wash before touching it. She needed no threat! In spite of the fact there might well be another tortoise in the river; there could be anything, her father had warned, in these rivers: she jumped in almost immediately. She knew the natives scooped sand from the bottom of the river to use as a cloth with which to scrub themselves. She and her father had learned that when they had introduced washing before tea. They had taken the men to the pump to wash and had been amazed to see that they scooped dirt from the ground with which to wash! She copied them now because she didn't want to risk irritating Balloo. She didn't know what "unclean" might mean to him within his mysterious set of taboos, and she did not wish to discover the penalty before the rule!
By the time she finished scrubbing herself down with the rough sand and the river water, she could see that she had changed appearance considerably. Her skin was everywhere a ruddy pink, and her light brown hair was matted fairly Rat to her head, combed with her fingers as best she could. She climbed up onto the river bank again and picked up the garment that she was to wear. It felt like a tent going over her head, and she was relieved to find that it at least covered her tits. She had been afraid that it would be only a long skirt, but she found holes for her arms, and there was a cord to tie around her tiny waist.
Meanwhile, a couple of the women had helped Balloo construct a kind of branch sleigh by which to haul the big tortoise back to the hut. It was a little slower returning because of the addition of the big turtle, but Julie still had to marvel at the agility with which Balloo managed to maneuver through the woods. A great roar of laughter and happiness met them when the other men saw the prize, but instead of taking the poor creature into the hut, they loaded it into the back seat of the car, which Dawak and Kubby were filling with gasoline when Balloo and Julie returned. Then Julie was invited into the back seat, too, though Enhar was given the task of keeping the tortoise under his feet, and Julie was placed against the opposite door, shielded by Balloo from tortoise and Enhar both, for which she was greatly relieved.
"Where... where are we going?" she questioned when she saw that they were all taking off again. Was she being taken home already?
"Ah," Balloo gasped. "We go to King Daranje Kawat with fine food," he told her, his eyes twinkling with mischief. He wanted her to be frightened, that he meant she would be the food, but she knew he was referring to the tortoise.
"Why me?" she asked, not frightened. He knew she wanted to know why she was involved with all this.
"Hey you," he said sternly, slivers of ice appearing an the glint of his eyes, "much business. Business, business, business."
That was not a word he learned from her father but from the market place. Most of the traders the natives here dealt with in the market were French, but some were English. The Reverend Davenport had discovered that the primitives had learned a number of English words before they came to him. They seemed to enjoy learning the language. In fact, the missionary often complained that that was all they seemed to want to learn. They soaked up the English words and seemed to let the English religion go over their heads! Oh, they played the ceremonial games with him but with other motivation than worship, he suspected. The problem was that he seemed unable to decipher their reasons!
Julie fell silent after that. Apparently, she was not going to learn about her abduction until they were good and ready to tell her the story. By this time, having been through everything there was to terrify her, she was more curious than afraid. But she must wait.
Even when the automobile stopped in the dusty middle of a clearing that was surrounded by several of the familiar rush-woven huts, but mostly by one single long hut that was also taller than the others, Julie knew no more than she had when the men had stolen into her bedroom the night before. She had to wait, the object of much curious staring by the people, while the men wrestled the big tortoise out of the car. It was almost as though the poor creature knew that he was destined for the pot! But that's the usual way of life, Julie thought. When the strong grab the weak, it's to put them into the pot, and most creatures know this instinctively. It gets complex on the human level, though. She was being put into some kind of pot for some selfish reasons the natives had, but as long as they didn't literally boil her, there was not much else for her to lose, it seemed. She would have to be patient to see what kind of pot lay in her future.
Finally the tortoise had been hauled away. Balloo and the other three took her into a first tiny room of the large hut, and there, some women came with great ostrich feather fans and brushed them carefully from head to foot. They were brushed three times by three different women before they were taken into the next room, which was floored with glistening white wood. Julie saw that there were still other rooms going off to the side from the rooms through which they passed. She knew by now that she was in the home, or palace, of the King himself and wondered if she would see him. She had not long to wonder.
After all the preparations that had taken place including her bath and the brushing down by the women, Julie fully expected to see a shiny monarch, totally out of reach, perhaps sitting high on a throne, which all must prostrate themselves before. Instead, Daranje Kawat sat at a table, waiting for them. He was dressed beautifully. His robe shone with newness and had large orange and white diagonal stripes for a print. He wore no hat. but his hair was a beautiful braidwork in patterns of flowers with stand-up loops of braided hair for petals. His robe covered his physique, which looked powerful, and surely his personality emanated a strength, the like of which, Julie had never before felt. Then she remembered hearing how these men became kings. They nearly died in the trials that gave them absolute power. She had always wondered why they did such things, why they put a man through such cruel and abusive treatment before letting him become king... if he survived, and many did not! Her father said it was just superstitious savagery, but she was curious.
Without even realizing that she was doing it before she did, she found herself bowing her head before this imposing man. Oh, if her father ever saw her do that! Yet she felt a supreme gentleness descend upon her when she did, a sturdiness like complete acceptance. What a strange feeling! How mysterious! Never in her life had she felt so a part of anything as she now felt with these men at this table! What secret power was this? And was it of God or of the devil, she wondered, feeling her heart quake. All sat down at the table where the king sat, and they placed her directly opposite.
She scrutinized his face as much as she dared but saw no smile. She didn't dare speak up, and she noticed that no one else started a conversation so she guessed that it was necessary to let the king speak first. Finally he did smile and speak.
"Your king is as powerless as the feathered spirits who serve him. We have taken you from your father, but your great God-King comes not. Where is he?"
Julie's jaw could only drop helplessly. His command of English surprised her.
"We brought you here as a challenge, to make him show himself, and to bargain with him if he were one to respect. But we see he is a coward as we have long suspected. He sends the feathered spirits to pluck out our souls and drop them in the great water so we cannot find them when we have need of them. Or shall I say, he tries to do that. But we have hiding places." He paused then and seemed to be waiting for her to say something. She didn't know where to begin.
"My... my father is not God, and he would come if he knew where I was." She stopped and no one interrupted the silence. It was as though the king could feel the knot of inexpressible information that was lodged in her chest. He was patiently waiting for her to find the words. "God is..." How could she express it? "I don't think He is what you think." Did he mean angels by the term "feathered spirits?"
"He is not the king of the feathered spirits? My people have seen pictures of the feathered spirits serving your god!"
"Well..."
"He does not send them to pluck our souls? Yet, my people have been told to give up their souls to this king!"
"Well, yes, but..." She was stymied again.
"What does he do with the souls he takes if not to drop them in the great water?" Julie was perplexed. Did the "great water" mean the oceans or the heavens?
"It's to keep them, you see," she said in agony of desperation. She had no idea but what her answer might determine her fate.
"For what purpose?"
"Well... well... for you!" Oh, if only her father were here to answer these questions! She didn't really know the answers at all. She heard a kind of snicker among the four men who sat with her before the king, but it subsided quickly although the king himself did not seem to notice and did nothing to stop it.
"The first man of our people who visited in friendship with your father had his soul plucked by your god. He told me that the place for his soul was empty in his head and that his ears were ringing with the hollowness of the wind, and he went and jumped from the Cliff of Doom because your father said his soul was in a place of after-death and he wanted his soul back."
Julie's breath caught in her throat. She remembered the man. For a long time he was the only one who would come, and then he was gone and the others began to come.
"These men," King Daranje Kawat said, nodding toward the four, "have come to you for the words and books that I needed with which to speak to you. Others went to the marketplace and brought back words. We will give you back to your father if he will leave here and take his god of the feathered spirits with him. We care for our own souls. It is a way to know where they are and it is better."
The king clapped his hands then, and a beautiful, willowy black woman entered. The king looked straight at Balloo.
"Take her," he invited, then smiled a beautiful, white-toothed smile. "She is for a great feast tonight. The turtle is a good sign of pleasure and gratitude on our people. You have done well, and we will be rid of the god of the feathered spirits at last!"
The king then rose and disappeared in a ripple of orange and white into a room off this main one. Julie was aghast and ashamed of the disappointment she felt to see him go. She had actually been playing with the idea that he might be curious about a white woman's body. She discovered that she had been hopeful! Oh, God, how she had changed! Yet she had acquired a new respect for physical power now, and he certainly had the most she had ever been in contact with. Part of his charisma was inexplicable. It seemed to have nothing to do with his physique. Perhaps it was a kind of psychic strength from the ordeals he had gone through to be king, or maybe it was just because he felt he had defeated the strong thieving god who had come among his people.
Now she was back to Balloo again. She must be satisfied with his protection. Yet, the tail willowy black woman was obviously for Balloo because he was the leader, Julie supposed. Well, in a way, it might be just as well. She was quite exhausted, and what she really wanted to do more than anything else at the moment was catch up on her sleep.
It seemed she was not alone in this desire. Balloo said something to the black woman, and she changed the direction in which they were walking, leading them to another hut in the trees behind the palace. While they walked, Julie managed to ask Balloo who the woman was. Her name was Kinche and she was one of the king's favorites, bestowed upon them for today and tonight in return for their services. It was a very great service to be present in ridding the area of her father and influence of the feathered spirits, Julie was assured of nothing. She couldn't. All she could hope that her
119 father would take her home and not relocate elsewhere. She didn't want to stay in Senegal anymore than the people there wanted her to stay !
Kinche quickly unrolled mats for everyone. Just the sight of the rush mat on the ground was enough to make Julie's legs almost buckle under her and to make her eyes close while still standing up. Balloo saw that she was tired and he told her to go to sleep. For a moment she looked at him not just in gratitude but with strange feelings that she had never felt before. She was jealous of this Kinche! It was incredible, but she found herself beseeching the muscular Balloo silently with her eyes to remain faithful to her, Julie! Recognizing the idiocy in her own heart, Julie turned toward the mat he had indicated was for her and threw herself down on it, keeping her face against the grass wall of the hut.
When she awoke, she didn't feel slept out but still tired. Yet there were strange noises going on and she couldn't keep from rolling over to see what was happening. The fat Enhar, half-crazed with frustration, eyes bulging from uncontrolled animal lust, was pulling the beautiful willowy body of Kinche up to himself and slamming his large thick rubbery lips on hers. The rest of the men were sitting around chortling or just grinning, but obviously enjoying the lovely woman's struggles with the brutish Enhar. Julie's instinct made her want to cry out and help the girl but she was helpless and knew it. Her mind would not really work and she lay frozen, green eyes agape at the terrible spectacle transpiring before her horror-stricken face. Perhaps the men in this society were in no need of the god of the feathered spirits, Julie thought, but the women apparently were!
Everything Enhar did, he did with savagery and brutality, it seemed to Julie. Already Kinche's body was half limp, and the white onlooker watched in stunned horror as the crazed Enhar, frothing at the mouth from his passion, began brutally tearing at Kinche's clothing. The now half- insensible girl did not stand a chance as Enhar grabbed her robe and pulled it violently over her head and off so that her full black titties fell free from their modesty and quivered nakedly in the air. The now naked woman tried to rise but he mashed her back onto the floor again, half on the mat and half on the ground. Here there was no polished wood for a floor. Kinche was completely naked and helpless before Enhar's brutal attack. She looked almost lifeless. There was no resistance left, but the pent-up passion of the fat Enhar roared on. He rolled her to her stomach flat on the ground and muttering vague and unintelligible obscenities, headed and tore at the soft yielding flesh of her ass, her back, and her thighs, with an insane intensity that brought tears to Julie's gaping eyes.
Suddenly, with a savage jerk of her shoulder, Enhar rolled her over again back onto the mat on her back and forced her legs brutally apart. He kneeled up for a moment between her full dark coffee-colored thighs, dropping his pants to his knees with a quick movement of his hand, and then fell forward, crushing her dark lovely body with an animal-like grunt hard down onto the floor.
Gigi
- 13.08.2022
- 33
- 0
