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The inside of the hut darkened as a massive
form thrust itself through the doorway.
Before her stood the giant warrior who had first confronted Larra
at the stone phallus. He looked
at Larra and then nodded to an old woman who had come into the hut behind
him. She approached Larra and
knelt before the lovely young woman.
Larra stared at her with some apprehension as the old woman reached
toward her genitals. Larra gasped
and tried to move away, but she was caught and held by the other native
woman. She was forced to allow
the ancient female to probe her genital
area. Larra started as she felt
a finger inserted into her vagina.
She blushed bright red at this latest indignity,
rising slightly from her kneeling
position. After a few seconds
the old woman withdrew her finger and nodded to the massive
warrior. She then left the
hut.
The warrior grunted in seeming
approval. He turned to Larra
and in halting Swahili he spoke.
“Tomorrow, you be taken to the place of
sacrifice. We offer you to the
gods. Gods
be pleased to receive virgin
sacrifice.”
Larra’s heart left into her
throat. The old woman had inspected
her to determine her virginity. And
she had been found satisfactory.
Somewhat in shock, she wondered what her fate would have been if she
had not been a virgin. Would
she have been treated like
She forced herself to remain
calm. In a steady voice she inquired:
“What is to be done with me?”
“Tomorrow we take you to sacred
place.” The warrior motioned
with his hands, making the unmistakable shape of a
phallus. “There you be opened
to the gods so that your spirit may please
them.” Here the warrior
drew his thumb along his abdomen.
Larra
blanched. She was to be
disemboweled. It would be a slow,
cruel, painful death. She composed
herself. “I am not of your
people,” she argued.
“How can you treat a visitor to your lands so
badly? Have your people no
honour?”
The warrior smiled
sadistically. “You enter
our lands uninvited. You defile
our sacred ground. You beautiful
white woman make special sacrifice.
Pleasing to
gods.”
With that the giant stooped and left through
the low entrance of the hut. Upon
his departure the young black woman continued her
ministrations. She resumed washing
Larra’s body, and upon finishing, rebraided Larra’s luxuriant
hair. She then picked up an
embroidered loincloth from where it lay folded on the floor and placed it
about Larra’s hips. Strangely,
this partial covering of her nakedness made her feel much more
comfortable. Larra tried to stand,
but the servant girl pushed her back down.
“I need to
walk.” Larra stated in
Swahili.
The girl shook her
head. It was obvious that she
did not understand. As Larra once again tried to stand the girl placed a
rope about Larra’s neck and fastened it to the center pole of the
hut. Now she could not
stand. Resignedly, Larra tried
to find a comfortable sitting position.
The day slowly moved
on. Larra rested, remaining ever
vigilant, watching for the slightest chance to escape, but tied and chained
as she was no chance
came.
More and more her soul became filled with a feeling
of hopelessness. Eventually
the day passed and night came. All
the time she was attended by the servant
girl. She was kept cool by being
wiped down with a wet cloth and was fed at regular
intervals. The rest and care
were restoring her body, but at the same time the restraints of her bonds
and the awkward position of her arms and torso resulted in severe chest pains
and cramps in her arms.
Finally night came and Larra found herself
falling into a fitful sleep filled with frightful dreams of torture and
suffering. In the middle of the
night she awoke in a state of alarm.
The servant girl had left the hut when night had
fallen. But Larra could now detect
the presence of someone else in the hut.
She could clearly hear the sound of male breathing very close to
her. Suddenly, she felt a large
hand cover her mouth and a rasping voice whispered in her
ear.
“Missy, make no
noise! No
noise!”
Larra’s bodied tensed, but she lay
quiet. Not that she had much
choice!
“Me
help. You
come.”
The hand was removed from her mouth and Larra
was aware that the rope fastening her to the center post in the hut had been
untied. She felt herself being
pulled toward the back of the hut.
“Release my arms,” she
whispered.
Instantly the man’s hand was back over
her mouth.
“No
noise!” There was panic
in the man’s low whisper.
“Get killed!”
Larra kept quiet and allowed the man to pull
her toward the back of the hut. It
would be much easier for her to move with her arms free, and she had been
able to determine that there were no locks on her chains, just two simple
pins holding the chains to the amulets.
It should have been the work of only a few seconds to remove
them. Perhaps in the dark her
rescuer could not see well enough to know how easy it was to release
her. Or perhaps, he had some
other motive. But she had no
real choice. On the morrow she
faced certain death, and an exceedingly painful and brutal death at
that. What did she have to
lose?
By now they were at the back of the
hut. The black warrior was scraping
at the back wall with the point of his
spear. It seemed to Larra that
he was making an inordinate amount of noise, but the village remained
quiet. No one seemed to
hear. In a couple of minutes
he was through the back of the hut.
Reaching toward Larra in the dark, he found her arm and pulled her
through the hole. Outside, the
village was dark and deserted except for a few native dogs that slunk into
the shadows as Larra and her escort moved furtively past the silent
huts. Evidently the curs did
not regard her as an enemy as long as the black warrior was with
her. Reaching the village gate,
the warrior carefully pulled aside the thorn bush that was blocking
it. A few seconds later they
were both out into the African night.
A short distance from the village Larra halted,
panting from exertion. She could
not make any time with her arms so cruelly pulled behind
her. “My arms,
please…” she gasped.
The warrior made no reply but instead seized
the short rope dangling from the leather collar around her neck, and dragged
her staggering up the trail behind him.
Larra began to have grave apprehensions; this seemed less and less
like a rescue and more and more like an
abduction. But she knew
that raising an alarm meant certain
death. Trusting her
“rescuer” seemed like a poor choice, but the alternative was probably
far worse.
But why would he not release her
arms? The pain in her shoulders,
arms, and chest was now excruciating.
Only her martial training and iron determination kept her
going. She stumbled frequently
and had to be pulled back to her feet.
Soon her knees were bloodied and
bruised. Her bosom heaved as
her labored breathing attempted to draw in enough oxygen to keep her from
fainting. Fortunately, the pace
of the black man was rather slow, so she was able to keep
up. She dimly wondered at this,
but was in such intense agony that she was unable to think
clearly.
Larra and the black man staggered into a small
clearing in the center of which was a large flat stone about three feet high,
eight feet long, and three feet wide.
Fastened in the top of the stone were a pair
of heavy iron rings. It reminded
Larra of a large headstone or perhaps, she thought with a shiver, a sacrificial
altar. The light of the almost
full moon flooded into the open space, clearly illuminating the stone and
its surroundings.
Larra now recognized her black
escort. It was the man whose
knee she had injured in the rainforest battle where she had been
captured. The man pulled her
toward the stone. Dazed, Larra
now realized what she should have known all along, that she was no better
off with her “rescuer” than she had been as a prisoner in the
hut.
As the powerful warrior dragged her toward
the stone Larra noticed that he had a cloth bandage wound about his knee
and that he was clearly limping.
Why had she not noticed these details
before? She realized that she
had been so desperate to escape, and so tortured by the pain of her bonds
that she had overlooked the obvious.
Now her head was remarkably clear.
She reasoned that the black man did not intend to kill her right
away. If he had wanted that he
could have killed her anywhere along the
trail. He had brought her here
for another reason, and Larra had a strong suspicion as to what that reason
was. She broke out into a cold
sweat as she contemplated what fate might await
her.
Now Larra and the warrior were at the
stone. Roughly the black man
seized her shoulders and pushed her on to the large flat surface of the huge
boulder. She gasped in pain at
the increased pressure on her bonds.
The warrior yanked her into a kneeling position and pushed his face
close to hers.
“White witch,” he
rasped. “White witch put
spell on me. Hurt
leg. Must punish
White witch. I take
you. Destroy
magic.”
Larra called on all her
training. She was filled with
a deadly fear and close to panic.
But panic would be fatal. In her weakened condition she would probably
only have one
chance. She composed herself
and waited for an opening.
Suddenly the man’s huge hands were on
her high, perfect breasts squeezing hard on the firm yet tender
flesh. Larra cried out and her
abuser gave a grunt of satisfaction.
Then reaching down he tore away her loincloth and pushed her back
onto the stone. Reaching down
his hand cupped her pubic mound.
Larra shuddered. She had
never been touched there before!
Pushing her legs apart with his knees, the warrior positioned himself
between her thighs. Larra
readied herself for the coming ordeal.
She had to maintain control.
It was her only chance of escape.
Then the warrior did something
strange. Instead of heaving himself
upon her as Larra had expected, the warrior stood up, straddling her prone
body. Slowly and deliberately
he removed his own loincloth revealing a fully erect penis of massive
proportions. He was deliberately
taunting her, hoping to initiate a startled response in the young
virgin. A cruel smile played
on his lips. Larra had not seen
many naked men and those she had seen did not have dimensions like this
one. For a few seconds she could
only gaze in awe and horror at the majestic male before her and then her
trained reflexes took over. With
all that remained of her failing strength Larra’s body uncoiled from
the stone like the strike of a cobra.
Resting on her elbows she drove her long powerful legs
upward. Her arched toes caught
the warrior’s testicles and slammed them flat against his abdomen crushing
them completely. With a hideous
scream that Larra was sure could be heard all the way to
Larra collapsed to her knees, completely drained
by the intense exertion. For
a few minutes she knelt before her victim, breathing deeply, trying to collect
herself. Then she struggled to
her feet. Bright moonlight still
flooded the open glade and Larra was able to locate the warrior’s
spear. Kneeling beside it she
managed to pick it up and carry it over to the stone
slab. With a little bit off effort
she was able to push the shaft of the spear through one of the heavy iron
rings in the top of the stone. She
then retrieved her loincloth from where it had been
flung. The skimpy little garment
was really nothing better than two strips of cloth connected by a strip of
leather. Picking it up in her
strong white teeth she draped it across the shaft of the
spear. Climbing up on the stone
slab she maneuvered her way across the
stone. Grabbing the rawhide strap
of her loincloth she managed to tie it to the shaft of the
spear. With a little more effort
she managed to secure the shaft to the other iron
ring.
Now the spear was fastened to the rings on
the stone slab with its point projecting beyond the edge of the
slab. Crouching just under the
spear point Larra attempted to push the pin from her
shackles. This proved quite difficult
to execute as Larra was forced to look over her shoulder while maneuvering
from a crouched position. Again
and again she tried to push the pin from the armlet, and she failed just
as many times. The pin seemed
to fit into the shackle quite tightly.
By now Larra had been struggling with her shackles for over an
hour. In her crouched position,
with her arms pulled brutally behind her, she was once again on the edge
of complete physical collapse. Even
in the cool night air, her body was dripping with
sweat. It ran down her back in
streams. Larra realized that
if she did not succeed soon, she would be too weak to
continue. And then, with a clink,
the pin moved! Suddenly Larra
felt her arms swing free as the chain holding the armlet
released. Weeping with relief,
she collapsed on the ground.
For a few minutes Larra just lay there,
gasping. Then pulling herself
together, she got to her feet. She
was free! But now she had to
complete her escape. It would
be morning soon and her absence from the village would be
discovered. In only a few hours
she could expect dozens of warriors to be scouring the forest for her.
Quickly she gathered up her few
possessions. She refastened the
loincloth abut her waist and then used the warrior’s spear to cut the
dead warrior’s much larger loincloth into four strips, each about eighteen
inches long and six inches wide. By
tying the strips to one another she was able to fashion a crude halter-top
by crisscrossing the cloth over her breasts and tying it behind her
neck.
“That’s
better,”
She thought, feeling much more comfortable, although her breasts
were still sore from the “massage” they had received from the dead
warrior.
She hefted the
spear.
It’s seven-foot length made it seem
quite unwieldy. Using a knife
that the warrior had carried around his waist she notched the spear shaft
about four feet from the butt end.
Then, using the iron ring in the stone slab she was able to break
off the last four feet of the shaft.
The much shorter weapon suited her much
better.
She then cut the remainder of the spear shaft
in half and used the piece of chain she had been shackled with to connect
each piece to the other by using a strip of leather from the loincloth to
bind each end of the chain to the stick.
Now she had a crude, but she hoped effective
nunchuka. At least it would be
a weapon that the blacks were unfamiliar with.
Now she was ready, but which way to
proceed? She really had very
little idea of where she was.
Fleeing farther into the rainforest might throw the blacks off her
trail, but it would also get her more
lost. She wanted to head back
in the direction of
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