The Pits of Passion

by Amber Flame

  “They’ve never seen blonde hair before?”

  “No, that’s why they stare at you so. And that tall one--be especially wary of him. He occasionally comes to my tent to discuss the operation and I want you to stay away from him. He’s dangerous.”

  With warnings ringing in her ears like bells, Elizabeth was left alone again. A man came shortly and brought food for her, strange things she had never seen or tasted before. She tried it all, not daring to imagine what it could be, just experimenting and enjoying.

  After dinner, she prowled about the tent and peeked out the flap but since the door faced the sea, she could catch no glimpse of the goings on. She dared not disobey Franklin a second time, but the danger outside was driving her crazy.

  Finally she decided she couldn’t stand thinking about it another minute, and she made ready to go to bed. She pulled off Franklin’s clothes and let the cool evening air bathe her sweaty body. She resolved to ask Franklin about arranging for a bath tomorrow so she could scrub the African dirt from her body. She eased under the silk covering on the cot and allowed herself to sleep.

  She was rudely awakened by Franklin’s growling and thrashing as he ripped off his clothes and threw his boots. She stirred sleepily and looked up.

  “What’s wrong?” she asked. “What are you doing?”

  “You’re going back aboard the ship first thing tomorrow.”

  “But why? What did I do now?”

  “You’re behaving like a trollop and I won’t have you inciting the natives. You’ll go back on the first boat.”

  “What are you talking about? I haven’t set one foot outside the tent since you put me here.”

  “You didn’t have to. With the torch burning in here it was easy enough for everyone outside to watch the show you made of undressing.”

  “Show?” Elizabeth gasped. “I don’t know what you’re talking about, I’m sure.” She flounced back down in the bed and pulled the covers up to her chin.

  Franklin mumbled curses as he threw the rest of his clothes in a heap. Finally, after pacing angrily for several minutes, he slid into bed beside her. Elizabeth moved as far away from him as possible and sniffed audibly.

  “Damn you,” Franklin said. He put one arm around her and pulled her to him. She fought him, twisting and trying to wrench away.

  “How dare you!” Elizabeth cried. “How dare you think you can come in here and insult me like that, then expect to have me at your beck and call! Get your hands off me!”

  “Be quiet,” Franklin growled. “All I want is to feel you next to me. I’d be a bigger fool than you think if I took you tonight in this thin-walled tent. Then I’d have an uprising for sure, and I’m not talking about myself.”

  Elizabeth quieted at that and allowed him to hold her close by his side. She was still angry at the insults he’d called her, but she didn’t want to see an insurrection, either.

  “Do I have to go back?” she asked quietly.

  “Yes, not only for your safety, but the safety of the entire crew. So far I’ve been able to pay these savages with beads and gadgets, cheap things like that. I’m afraid after seeing you, they may start demanding honey-haired wenches for themselves, and the white slave market is more dangerous than the black market.”

  “But Franklin,” she said, snuggling close, “do you think before you send me back I could have a bath? Is there anyplace that’s private, where I could wash the grime from the ship off me? Please?” she wheedled.

  “Oh, hell,” Franklin said. “I suppose. Just don’t go about flaunting yourself before the boat takes you back.”

  “I won’t,” she said happily. “I promise.”

  “All right. I’ll have Edgar take you to a pool that’s near by. It’s surrounded by trees and foliage, bushes too, so it’s private.”

  “Who’s Edgar?”

  “He’s a big eunuch I picked up a few years back. He’s harmless, but an excellent guard.”

  “Oh.” She had never seen a eunuch before. She wondered how it would be to bathe in front of a neutered man. She decided it wasn’t a very pleasant idea, but rather than argue with Franklin and perhaps piss him off again, she allowed him to sleep with their bodies pressed close.

  The next morning Elizabeth was awakened roughly by Franklin.

  “Here, put your clothes on and take a towel and this bar of soap. Edgar is waiting outside.”

  “But I’m not even awake yet!” she cried.

  “You’ll wake up in the pool. Come on. The dingy is coming from the ship and I want you on it when it leaves.”

  Feeling put upon, Elizabeth shrugged Franklin’s clothes on and took the soap he offered. She found a towel and went outside to meet Edgar.

  “Christ!” she said.

  “No, this is Edgar,” Franklin corrected. “Don’t worry, he’s safe.” Edgar stood easily six foot nine and must have weighed two-ninety or better. He was a large, flabby black African with strange cuts and scars across his chest. He looked at Elizabeth disdainfully.

  “Does he understand English?” she asked.

  “Sort of. Actually, I’m not sure how much he knows since he doesn’t have a tongue.”

  “No tongue?”

  “No. Whoever neutered him must have gotten carried away. At any rate, you’ll be fine.”

  Feeling a knot of trepidation in her stomach, Elizabeth went off with Edgar as he led the way to the pool.

  Just off the sandy beach, the dense jungle foliage began. Edgar had a huge machete with which he cut and slashed a way through the brush, and shortly they came upon the pool. Elizabeth almost cried out at the beauty of it. It was crystal clear, being fed from a small waterfall off some rocks, and completely enclosed in a green curtain of undergrowth. None of the plants looked at all familiar to her, and she marveled at their beautiful flowers. Delighted with her bath, she slipped off her clothes and waded into the water.

  Edgar stationed himself at the hacked open pathway that was already growing back with jungle vines. The big eunuch stared across the pool at nothing, as was his job. Unfortunately, the white woman began to sing as she bathed and Edgar’s eyes were lured down to the pool. He had never seen a woman of such beauty before. He watched

  as she lathered the creamy soap over her alabaster skin, caressing the hills and valleys of her body with the suds. He watched as she scrubbed her skin to a glowing healthy pink, then dipped beneath the water to emerge as beautiful and as naked as a sun goddess. Edgar felt his scar tissue trying to get it up, but it was no good.

  Suddenly the bushes on the far side of the pool parted and a shining black face appeared. Edgar saw it and immediately started toward Elizabeth so he could get her back to camp. Before he had taken two steps, a tiny dart shot out of the bushes and buried itself in Edgar’s neck. Falling instantly, Edgar tried frantically to warn his charge, but her back was turned and Edgar could make no sound. The eunuch died with a silent, “Oh shit!” on his lips.

  Elizabeth rinsed the last of the soap off her body and turned to get out of the pool. She was astounded and frightened to see the pool surrounded by tall, almost naked black savages. Her eyes quickly took in the large sprawling body of Edgar, one finger pointed in a final salute to his murderers. She crouched down in the water up to her chin and tried frantically to think what to do. But there was nothing.

  Then her attention was caught by the approach of the tall, striking looking black she had seen before. His eyes bored into her, staring through the clear water, burning her naked flesh. She remembered what Franklin said and she was terrified. Already the meager breechcloth he wore was growing.

  Her attention was so riveted on the tall man that she had not noticed other men wading into the pool behind her. Suddenly she heard the splashing and turned to see four savages coming toward her, spears upraised. They came toward her purposefully, and she backed away. Before she knew it, she had backed completely out of the water and the tall chief black had grabbed her up and was carrying her off.

  Eli
zabeth began to kick and scream, hoping against hope that the man would let her go. He only clutched her closer and put his free hand over her mouth. Going at a half run, half walk, the savage carried her through the jungle, farther and farther from Franklin’s ship.

  CHAPTER 9

  After a short while, Elizabeth noticed their pace slackening and finally the entire party broke into a clearing. There were small grass huts assembled in a circle in the clearing and other blacks, men and women alike, and they all came forward excitedly. The sounds and words they made were unintelligible to her. She was embarrassed beyond belief at the way they stared at her lovely pink body and pointed to her cascading blonde hair. Her captor permitted the exhibition for a short time, then seemed to signal its end. The people backed away respectfully, and Elizabeth found herself being carried into the largest hut in the clearing.

  Reed mats covered the floor and animal skins were thrown in comfortable piles. The tall man dumped Elizabeth unceremoniously on the skins and stared down at her with lust gleaming in his eyes. Elizabeth backed away from him, pulling a pelt over her flaming body. Her eyes glanced frightfully at the straining material of his g-string, and she almost screamed when he threw himself on top of her.

  Elizabeth struggled frantically as the African began to kiss and caress her, his weight holding her under him. His hands were hot wherever they touched her, and she was ashamed to realize that she was perspiring, but not from fear. The man’s touch quickened her blood and her heart pounded in her chest. When she struggled against him, her movements only served to inflame the man more and she could feel his hardness pushing through his loincloth.

  Suddenly the savage turned his attention from her, and she was horrified when he removed the scant clothing he had. His spear jumped forward, alert and gleaming, and Elizabeth could only stare in fear and amazement. Franklin wasn’t kidding! It was the biggest wanger she had ever seen, and being married to Benjamin, that was saying some. Before she could gather her wits about her, she was pushed down into the mats again and the African was on top of her.

  He stroked and petted her, although she fought him, and gave her a hickey on her neck. Since he did not try to enter her immediately, she relaxed somewhat, and found herself responding to the man’s caresses. He kissed and sucked her breasts and titillated her tits with his teeth. When he moved his hands and mouth down her body, she writhed in a passionate motion, moving sensuously beneath him. When he found her dark secret place with his tongue, she gasped in surprise and pushed his head down for more. She had never experienced such feelings before and found herself becoming more and more excited. Suddenly the African did an acrobatic twist in the air above her and she found his throbbing ding dong hanging invitingly in her face.

  Reacting only with her carnal instincts, she took it in her mouth and licked and sucked like a starving puppy. Then her captor seemed to shiver spasmodically and his body came down on hers, and she gagged. His being closed up her throat until she couldn’t breath and she began to struggle and turn blue. Finally he got up off her and lay beside her.

  “I’m sorry,” he said. “I didn’t mean to suffocate you.” Elizabeth was shocked that he could speak English, but she still couldn’t breathe so well, and had a hard time trying to speak.

  “Are you all right?” he asked.

  “Gaauuggghh,” she gagged.

  “I’m terribly sorry,” the savage said in Oxford English. “I assumed you were well versed in fellatio.”

  “Who?”

  “Never mind. It’s an ancient tribal custom. Are you all right now?”

  “I think so,” Elizabeth said.

  “Good. I wouldn’t want you to be uncomfortable here. I want you to be relaxed for the ceremony tomorrow.”

  “What ceremony?”

  “The ceremony whereby you’ll become my fifth wife. I have to make you my fifth wife or my other four wives will be upset, but actually I think I will hold you in the highest regard of all. After all, having a sun goddess for my wife will promote me to a sun god, even if I am a darkie.”

  “What are you talking about?” Elizabeth asked. “I can’t marry you! I’m already married!”

  “So what? So am I. Anyway, if your husband comes for you--I mean to rescue you--I’ll kill him.”

  “Oh, you can’t do that!” she exclaimed. “Anyway, Franklin isn’t my husband.”

  “That man who leads the slavers?” the chief asked. “The one you sleep with in the tent is not your husband’?”

  “No, that’s my husband’s brother.”

  The black man looked suspiciously at her, but she really didn’t want to explain. She hoped she wouldn’t be there that long.

  “But I really can’t marry you,” she said.

  “Why not?”

  “Because,” she stuttered, groping for words, “because, for one thing I don’t even know your name, and for another thing, I don’t love you.”

  “My name,” he said, “is Wilt the Stilt and you can learn to love me. In my language my name means ‘Tickler of Many Uvula.’ You’ll see. Our tribal customs are really quite beautiful when you learn them.”

  “But this is impossible!” Elizabeth wailed. “I don’t belong here! I belong at home in England with Benjamin!” She began to cry piteously and Wilt took pity on her.

  “That’s all right,” he said consolingly. “I’ll leave you alone for awhile to think about it. I have to make arrangements for our wedding tomorrow anyway.”

  Much to Elizabeth’s relief, Wilt left her. She rolled herself in a tiger skin and cried uncontrollably, wishing she were dead or anyplace but here. She desperately hoped Franklin would come to rescue her, and that Wilt wouldn’t kill him. Surely Franklin wouldn’t sail away without her. Or would he? Feeling very afraid and alone, she cried herself into a stupor.

  It was sometime later that Elizabeth was awakened by the sound of drums. She pushed herself up and listened, hearing the driving, rhythmic beats close around her and wondered what it meant. By the look of the shadows outside she knew it was close to sunset. Why hadn’t Franklin come for her yet? Maybe he had already tried and Wilt had killed him. Fearing the worst, she dragged a zebra skin around her and huddled at the back of the hut, dreading what was to come.

  After a while Wilt returned. He sat beside her and stared meaningfully into her eyes. He knew she was frightened and unhappy, but he hoped she would change after they were married. She was the most beautiful woman he had ever seen and he wanted her more than anything else in the world. Her golden skin and honey hair caused unfamiliar fires to burn in him and his fire hose stood up.

  “We must start the preparations,” he said finally.

  “What preparations?” Elizabeth asked.

  “The wedding preparations. Don’t be afraid; you won’t be harmed in any way. My aunts will help you.”

  “No, no,” she moaned. “You don’t understand. I can’t, I--”

  “Hush,” he said firmly. “You are no longer in your white world. You are mine now, and that is all there is to it. My aunts will be in shortly, and I will not see you again until the wedding.” He played with one spun gold curl that lay on her bare shoulder and his manner changed to a softer tone. “Do not be afraid. I will love you and cherish you more than any white man. You will see.” And he left.

  Elizabeth was ready to cry again but two very black, very fat women came in wearing nothing but thatched grass skirts. They eyed her curiously, almost like children with a new toy, and Elizabeth wondered what they were going to do. After they had apparently looked their fill, one drew an animal skin across the doorway of the hut and the other one began to move all the junk in the hut out of the middle to clear a large space.

  Elizabeth found herself being scooted toward the wall of the hut, animal skins, and all. When the middle area was clear, one of Wilt’s aunts called outside in a strange tongue and there was a great commotion. Finally some young girls came to the door, wrestling with a big tub made of lashed together reeds with some shi
ny substance coating it. The two women put the tub in the middle of the floor and then the young girls began to bring suds, and clay pots of hot, steaming water. Elizabeth watched as the tub was filled with the boiling water.

  It was a long process, and Elizabeth found herself getting bored. She noticed the women cast curious glances at her occasionally, and the girls that appeared at the door really giggled and stared excitedly. She began to wonder if they were preparing a bath or a cooking pot.

  Finally the tub was ready and the women coerced her into it. The water was so hot that she had difficulty getting in. It made her toes feel cold. Eventually she sat in it, the hot water enveloping her.

  The women produced a hard, funny-smelling bar of soap and motioned for her to wash with it. At first she was skeptical but then she began to lather the soap over her and it gave her skin a luxurious silky feeling. She found the odor not near so bad once the water acted on the soap and as a matter of fact, it even smelled sensual to her. Getting caught up in the bath, she washed enthusiastically, much to the pleasure of the two women.

  When she had washed sufficiently, one of the aunts held up a woven piece of material that Elizabeth deduced she was to dry off with. She almost hated to get out of the tub, but the women were insistent. They wrapped her in the cloth and dried her, then set her down on the animal skins again.

  The girls appeared at the doorway again and handed in some crude clay vessels. The women took them ceremoniously and brought them to Elizabeth. She looked ill and could make out some sort of oil, but beyond that she had no idea what it was. She was shocked beyond words when the aunts began to cover every inch of her skin with the oil, rubbing it into her pores until her flesh gleamed. The strange sensations the massage evoked in her caused her mixed feelings of pleasure and guilt, but she saw no way out of the procedure. The women were both adamant and complete in their treatment of her, and she was made to sit until her whole body shimmered.

  The next plan of action she found was the building of a fire in the center of the hut. The women piled the dry sticks on it until the flames were three feet high and the hut was insufferably hot. They had Elizabeth sit close to the fire and then they sat around, completing the circle about the flames. Then, swaying to an inner rhythm, the black women began to sing.