The Pits of Passion

by Amber Flame

  Elizabeth fell asleep. The warmth of the hut and the long, exhausting day took its toll and she found herself nodding and finally dropping off to sleep. She slept for several hours.

  When she awoke, the soft light of dawn was stealing through the hut and the still glowing embers of the lire warmed the interior. The aunts had fallen asleep and sat nodding stodgily across from Elizabeth, and the idea of escape played temptingly in her mind. She moved slowly and carefully and crawled to the door of the hut. Just as she sat at the doorway, though, one of the aunts awoke and cried in distress.

  “Aieeee!” she said, and scared the shit right out of Elizabeth.

  Frightened by the intensity of the woman’s scream and naked any way, she returned to her place by the fire. The women now were fully awake and had begun to bustle about, busy with some new activity that Elizabeth knew nothing about. The only thing she knew was that time was running out and Franklin still hadn’t come to save her.

  Before too long, Elizabeth found herself being prodded and turned by the women, then dressed like a doll. They draped a thin silken white material over her, arranging it in such a way that her oiled breasts welled above it in provocative mounds. The gauzy material fell about her legs in a graceful sensuous way, and Elizabeth was awed by the beauty of it in such a primitive place.

  Next, ornaments of the most beautiful gold were brought, and the women attached small gold chains about her ivory throat. She was shown how to wear the hammered gold armbands and the dainty rings. Earrings of tiny gold spirals hung off her ears, and she was beginning to think being an African princess wasn’t such a bad idea after all.

  Finally it seemed that all was in order. Elizabeth would have liked to have had something to eat, instead, all but one woman, the biggest and fattest, left the hut. The last woman sat by the door as if to guard it, and she watched Elizabeth in her wedding finery.

  Shortly there was a great commotion outside, but the woman at the door was too fat for Elizabeth to see. She heard great quantities of talking and running about, and sensed that the whole village was astir. She was ready for something to happen, but sat quietly with her stomach growling.

  Finally, two tall, lean men came to the door of the hut and talked to her guardian. Elizabeth waited while they performed some sort of ritual, each of the three speaking at intervals. Then, with no warning, the two men swept the woman aside and came purposefully toward Elizabeth, their breech cloths straining and their spears shining.

  Elizabeth was frightened by their sudden approach but trusted that Wilt would not allow her to be abused. The two men came to either side of her and took her arm and propelled her out the door. After being imprisoned in the hut for so many hours, the bright light blinded her, and she stumbled as the men pulled her along. When she regained her vision, she was amazed to see a living ring of people gathered around the interior of the village. Men, women and children stood chanting in a moving, swaying circle, the center toward which she was being escorted. There in the middle of the camp was a tall wooden platform like an obtuse triangle with stairs going all the way to the top. And at the top, Elizabeth noticed, Wilt was waiting for her.

  Finding that the music and the emotions were reaching her, she realized she was swaying also, and her feet moved to the chanting. By the time she reached the bottom of the platform, she was undulating sensuously, completely caught up in the experience. She looked up to Wilt and saw his eyes shining down at her and the glow from them seemed to light a fire inside her. She hadn’t even realized that her escorts had released her, but began to climb the steps almost in a trance. As the sun rose above the horizon and shone brightly in the sky, Elizabeth climbed higher toward the black god above her. Soon the black god and white goddess would be united.

  At the top of the platform, Wilt took Elizabeth’s hands and turned her beside him toward the sun. Following his example, she raised her arms toward the shining orb as in deference and sublimation and the warm rays ran down her arms like honey, only not as sticky. The wedding pair stood taking in the sun’s rays as if drawing life force from it and the entire assemblage stood silent.

  Until the first gunshot. Then before Elizabeth fully understood what was going on, shots were ringing out everywhere and people were running and screaming. From the top of the platform, it looked as if hundreds of black ants were scurrying blindly in every direction. It was a moment before Elizabeth realized that the shots must be coming from white men’s guns, and the only white men in the vicinity were Franklin’s.

  “Son of a bitch!” said Wilt, and Elizabeth saw Franklin’s men swarming out of the jungle with guns blazing. The natives were still running about hysterically and the white men met no resistance.

  Suddenly one man detached himself from the group and headed straight for the platform.

  “Franklin!” Elizabeth screamed. In the pandemonium, she had forgotten the chanting and swaying that had so caught her up, and now could only think of Franklin saving her. She forgot all about Wilt and ran down the steps to Franklin as fast as she could. When she was only two steps away, she threw herself into his arms and knocked him square on his ass. Luckily he hadn’t come up too many steps.

  Without a word, Franklin picked her up and carried her out of the village. Feeling suddenly very tired and wanting to cry, Elizabeth buried her head into Franklin’s neck and passed out.

  When she woke up she was lying on a pile of blankets in the bottom of a dingy and Franklin was rowing steadily out to sea.

  “Oh, Franklin!” she said. “I’m so glad you came.”

  “I haven’t come yet, but I did rescue you,” he said.

  “I’m so glad. Wilt was going to marry me and make me his sun goddess and....”

  “It’s all over with now,” Franklin said. “As soon as the rest of my men get back to the ship, we’re sailing and you’ll never have to see this place again.”

  “Thank goodness,” Elizabeth breathed in relief. “I was afraid I was going to be skewered on my wedding night.” When they reached the ship, Franklin took Elizabeth down to his cabin and ordered food brought for her. Having not eaten for two days, she was famished and ate everything Franklin set in front of her. Almost. He saw that she was regaining her strength and went above to see to the rigging of the ship. He planned to set sail before sundown.

  When he finally was able to return to his cabin, Franklin opened the door quietly so as not to awaken Elizabeth if she were sleeping.

  She wasn’t. She stood at the porthole watching the water slide by as they bore out across the ocean. She had lit one lantern and the soft glow colored her skin a golden honey, and her long flaxen hair fell in a sensuous curtain down her back. She still wore the white marriage outfit of the tribe, and it wrapped her body in a virginal yet inviting way, revealing warm flesh here and there between the straps. Franklin found himself completely captivated by her enchanting loveliness and he got a tremendous hard on.

  Without speaking a word, he crossed the plank floor and came to stand behind her. At the sounds of his heels on the wood, she turned and he took her into his arms. Her flesh was warm to his touch, and glowing still from the oil that had been massaged into her skin, and Franklin found himself in a frenzy of desire. He pulled her hard against his chest and crushed her mouth with his and if they’d both worn braces they would have been locked together.

  “Oh, Franklin,” she breathed. “I thought I would never see you again.”

  “Don’t even think it,” he said. “You don’t know how I’ve hungered for you, out here alone in this god-forsaken place. I’ve also hungered for a hot fudge sundae, but more for you. And then when I saw you up on that platform, dressed like a goddess, I thought I would go mad if I couldn’t get you back.” He swept her up in his arms and carried her to the bed. “Now that I have you back, I’ll never let you go again.”

  And although Franklin had so admired Elizabeth in her pagan wedding gown, he ripped it off her body in animalistic frenzy and covered her burning flesh with kisse
s. The oil on her skin grew warm under his touch and seemed to only add to his excitement. When he finally managed to tear his own clothes off, his entire body was rigid with anticipation, almost like rigor mortis, but he was breathing like a steam engine. Elizabeth, aroused as she was by Franklin’s passionate adoration, realized that he was too far driven to bother with his little gadget that she had grown so fond of, so she anticipated an anti- climatic climax. Then, thinking quickly, she pushed Franklin away and turned herself around on top of him, showing him the savage way of making love she had learned from Wilt. Since Franklin’s organ was so much smaller than Wilt’s, she had no problem with the gagging, and anyway, she was on top so it was easier. She caressed Franklin’s manhood with her tongue and lips and teeth, being very careful not to bite too hard, although small bites she found drove him to the very brink of ecstasy. At the same time she realized she had left herself wide open (so to speak) to Franklin’s own questing tongue and the combination lifted them both to a high plain of sensuality. The only problem she encountered was when she got a bit of his foreskin caught between her teeth and Franklin howled in pain and renewed excitement, but in the peak of passion they rode out the little mishap and ate their way to oblivion.

  When Franklin had retained his color and began breathing like a normal asthmatic, he eyed Elizabeth queerly.

  “Is that what twenty-four hours with savages does to you?” he asked.

  “I guess,” she said, panting.

  “I wonder how difficult it would be to turn the ship around?” he muttered to himself.

  “What?”

  “Nothing, nothing at all. I’m glad to see you’ve regained your strength. We have a long voyage ahead of us.”

  “Where are we going now?” Elizabeth asked pensively. “Are we going back to England?”

  “Oh, no,” he said, “I can never show my face in England again. “We’re going to the New World.”

  “The New World? Where is that?”

  “Do you mean to tell me,” he asked, astonished, “that you’ve lever heard of the Americas?”

  “Oh, the Americas,” she said. “Yes, but isn’t that where all the Indians are, and they do such awful things to people?”

  “Yes, that’s it.”

  “But I don’t want to go there,” Elizabeth wailed. “I want to go home.”

  “Sorry, love,” Franklin said. “We’re going to take these slaves to the New World and together we’ll start a new life.”

  “Do you mean you still have slaves aboard, after all that ruckus back there?”

  “Of course. Why do you think it took me so long to come and rescue you? I had to make sure the slaves were all aboard before I could leave to get you.”

  “Thanks a lot,” she said.

  “You’re welcome. Now, what other quaint customs did you learn from those black devils?”

  The days at sea passed slowly for Elizabeth, for she had little to occupy her time beside knitting jock socks for Franklin and counting seagulls that flew by the porthole and crapped on the waves. Not too many days out, though, she realized she was going to have to talk seriously with Franklin for now she knew beyond a shadow of a doubt that she was knocked up.

  Usually she stayed in bed long after he went up on deck, and she ate lunch alone so the only meal they took together was dinner. Franklin was so often in a foul mood until he’d eaten that she didn’t wish to broach the subject with him then, but as soon as he was done eating, he always wanted desert--African style. They had very little time for conversation. Still, she decided she must speak to him about it, and about providing for Benjamin’s son. She knew it was Benjamin’s, and a son, as all women truly know such things, and besides sometimes the little brat kicked like a soccer player.

  One evening she sat quietly while Franklin wolfed down his dinner, trying to decide how to approach him. She thought from the southeast would be the best. She had been eating less lately, since her stomach was not as rock-steady as it used to be, and Franklin noticed.

  “Aren’t you hungry?” he asked.

  “Not very,” she said. “I haven’t been feeling very well lately.”

  “Oh?” he said, “still eating.

  “No. I’ve been sick, often in the mornings.”

  Franklin cocked a black eyebrow at her. “Are you playing games with me, love, or are you trying to tell me something?” He had put his knife and fork down and was staring at her steadily.

  “I’m trying to tell you,” she began, “that I--that I....” Suddenly Franklin’s face lit up like a light bulb and a grin spread clear across it. He swallowed his last mouthful noisily and reached across the table for her hand.

  “Are you with child?’” he asked happily.

  She found she couldn’t speak, but only nodded. She thought his pleasure over the matter was extremely unexpected. Instead, she had thought he would rant and rave or even threaten her unborn child since it was not his.

  “A child!” he said joyous1y. “I’m about to be a father!” Releasing her hand, Franklin jumped up and ran to her side.

  “Are you feeling all right, my dear?” he asked. “Are you warm enough? You must eat, you know, to build up your strength. I don’t want my son to be weak.”

  “But Franklin,” she said, horrified. “It’s not your son.”

  “Nonsense!” he said angrily. “How many months are you?”

  “About three.”

  “And about three months ago was when I kidnapped you the first time, so it’s my child.”

  Franklin was right, of course, although she had lain with Benjamin also about the same time. But she had to admit he had a point. It could be either brother’s child. And how would anyone ever know? The brother’s being identical, the child would look

  like both of them. Perhaps that would be just as well, for if Franklin were convinced it was Benjamin’s, she was sure he wouldn’t suffer it to live. He was asshole enough to be like that.

  “All right,” she agreed meekly.

  “Good. That’s settled. Now, why don’t you lie down? You must be tired from your long day, and you’ve got to have your rest. You don’t want to wear yourself out.”

  From that evening on, Elizabeth found Franklin to be conscientiously thoughtful and ever ready to pamper her. He would not allow her to lift the smallest item or walk too far without his support, and she found his concern both touching and a pain in the ass. And he was so smug! She was sure he must never have had a child before, or at least not hung around to find out. It was nice, though, to be waited on hand and foot.

  The only problem Elizabeth had was keeping up with Franklin’s imagination. Since he knew the time would come when normal intercourse would be uncomfortable, he wanted to experiment to find ways that would ease the discomfort. Elizabeth found herself hanging from the rafters in the cabin, bending over the huge desk and sitting backwards in Franklin’s lap. She had to admit, it wasn’t all bad.

  The days slid into weeks and the weeks into months. She had stopped staring out the porthole hoping to see Benjamin’s ship cresting the horizon and bearing down on a mission of rescue. She had stopped hoping that Franklin would stop in England and set her free out of the goodness of his heart. She had stopped doing much of anything besides getting fatter.

  Finally one evening at dinner, Franklin was able to give her news.

  “We should be seeing land in another day or two,” he said.

  “America?”

  “No, not quite. We’re stopping in some small islands just off the southeast coast to trade and take on supplies. I’ll be leaving about a third of the slaves there, then taking the rest on to America.”

  “Oh,” she said, not really interested. What was there for her in America?

  “When we sell the rest of the slaves, I plan to sell my ship and settle down. Would you like a mansion, perhaps with your own slaves to wait on you hand and foot? We won’t be poor, I can assure you.”

  “I have no doubt,” she said. “But how can you tal
k of settling down as if we were married? I’m Benjamin’s wife, not yours.”

  “Are you or are you not Mrs. Elliott?” he asked with a mocking smile.

  “Of course I am Mrs. Elliott,” she said indignantly. “You know that.”

  “And you know my name is Elliott, also. So what difference does that one small detail make? No one else shall know, and I won’t let it bother me. My son will bear the Elliott name, as truly he should, and everything will be fine.”

  So Franklin rationalized. Elizabeth found it vexing to try to reason with him, for his head seemed to be made of wood, so eventually she gave up.

  She couldn’t deny that the idea of approaching land excited her. She was tired of being cooped up in the tiny cabin and wished for solid ground beneath her feet. She also wished her belly button wouldn’t protrude so, but she couldn’t have everything.

  CHAPTER 10

  The next day she heard the fateful cry from a sharp-eyed sailor above decks.

  “Shit!”

  “What’s’a matter, mate?” another sailor asked.

  “Damn seagull got me right in my sharp eye, and I can’t see a blinkin’ thing. What’s out there?”

  “Land!” screamed the second sailor. “Land, ho!”

  And Elizabeth waited trembling for the far island to grow on the horizon into a large land mass with verdant foliage and even some trees here and there. She thought she had never seen a place so green, nor with so many strange folks about.

  “Franklin,” she asked when he came down to the cabin, “Why are there so many different colored people there? I see black and white and brown and red.”

  “Santo Domingo is a mixture of many races,” he said. “Besides the native Indians there are blacks such as my slaves and Spanish and English and Dutch, to name a few. It’s a very interesting place.”