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Review This Story || Author: Darkstorm


Part 4

Chapter 4

Denise's Story

The university faded from her mind as days turned into weeks and months.  The urge controlled her, the urge to orgasm which erased all her intellectual accomplishments and yearning for recognition.  She was a slave and this satisfied her. 

There were three groups within the round house, all female.  The first were the warriors, lithe and strong females adept with a bow who wore their black hair in a mud-reddened bowl cut.  The domestics wore their hand long.  They spent most of their days in or near the round house filling out their days with gathering, cooking, and performing other domestic chores.  Lisa soon learned that they, too, could shoot an arrow and wield a club.  The only women who were not versed in these skills were those like her, the other slaves, who serviced the other women sexually. 

During the dry season into which she had first arrived, Lisa spent most of her time giving pleasure to the domestics.  Carla, she noticed, watched her intently, and sometimes cornered her to force her to give the Brazilian some cunnilingus.  When this activity was slow, she found herself lying with the other slaves.  They would masturbate each other and tell one another stories if they spoke the same language.  Lisa was surprised to find that there were a few slaves who spoke English.  The oldest of these was Denise, a sixtyish woman with fading red hair.  Lisa found herself attracted to the matron:  her skin was sun worn down to the shoulders, but below that she was soft if a little doughy.  She cut her hair to just below her ears.  The former professor learned that she had come as a little girl and had given birth to a son who lived in another village and two daughters who were also slaves.

Lisa and Denise often found themselves resting together during the late morning.  Denise would often bring Lisa to rapture and the newest captive would suckle on Denise's breasts. 

One particularly slow morning after Lisa's being had been shaken to the core by Denise's ministrations to her clitoris, the older woman stroked her to quietness and began telling Lisa the story of her life.

“I came from California, one of a pair of twin daughters of a Presbyterian minister and his wife,” she said.  “My father grew bored with the day to day routine of running a suburban parish, so he made application to the church's missionary board for a position here in Brazil.

“Both he and my mother were excellent at languages.  They both spoke Spanish and French.  Portuguese came easy to them when they set about its study.  And it was clear that they could not only learn from books, but also from native speakers.

“We were all in good health, so the board assigned us a new outpost along the Rio Rojo, just a few miles from here.  A gang of Brazilians came up river to help clear the ground and build the house, church, and school we would need to carry out God's work.  When they were finished, they wished us well and returned to their homes downstream.

“Parishioners did not appear without a little enticement.  My father strung out trade items such as knives and pots near the church.  While the men were working, he had learned a couple of the local languages from them.  So as he waited for a congregation, he translated the gospels into the native tongue.

“About six months after the men left, a few savages began appearing.  They took the gifts.  Father and mother found it odd that they were all women, but they did not reject what they thought was the gift of God.  If only women came, said my father, we will convert them and, by extension, their children.  It did not register that some carried bows and others did not, that some had short hair and others long.  He began preaching in the church every Sunday and they sat and listened while he initiated them into Christianity.

“My mother was beautiful, a tall, curvy redhead who had more than once attracted the roving eye of an adulterous member of the congregation.  I don't think she realized that she had not escaped this lust.  She did not think anything of the attention being paid to her by the women or detect any lust on their part.

“Easter Sunday fell just after the last rains of summer, in April.  The congregation sang a hymn that my father had adapted for them.  After the service, the women gathered in front of the church, looking repeatedly at my mother, my sister, and me.  My father came out wearing a white robe, raising his arms to bless them.  I did not see a signal or know how they chose the moment to strike, but the largest among them brought a club down on his head.  The others rounded the rest of us up and herded us into the jungle. 

“They made us take off our shoes, which was painful as we tripped over roots and rocks on the dark green path.  I thought this was a great adventure – I thought they had only knocked my father out.  We arrived at the village after about an hour and a half of travel.  Once there, they stripped my mother of her clothes and began exploring her pale body.

“Mother was wearing a light beige suit over a white blouse.  They pulled her skirt off first and then the jacket.  The blouse was ripped off and then her remaining clothes.  I remember sighing as her round breasts flowed out of the bra as the Amazons threw her clothing onto the fire. 

“I had never seen my mother naked before.  She was a natural redhead with the color appearing on both her head and between her legs.  As they began running their fingers through her pubic hair, I felt a twitch in the same place. 

“They stripped my sister and me, too, dispensing with my clothes in the same manner as they had my mother.  As the three of us stood naked at the center of the amazons, they took my mother aside and began massaging her pussy. 

“My mother moaned with the pleasure they were giving her.  I don't think she ever felt an orgasm with my father – at least I had not heard her going on like this in the night.  I know I have never had an orgasm with a man.  She was, I think, discovering that she was a natural lesbian and the thought scared the daylights out of her.

“Tears rolled out of her eyes and trickled down her white neck which the amazons stroked in fascination.  Her stomach heaved in rhythm with the motion of the hands inviting her to come.  Then she shuddered and cried out.  Though she would continue to resist, she knew that she had found her true nature.

“When they were finished with my mother, they ritually scarring the three of us with the sign of the bird. 

“My mother never overcame the shame.  Every day she serviced several women while my sister and I watched.  Not once did I see her lick or suck without tears.  When they rewarded her with an orgasm, the tears made her face as wet as her cunt.   Some of the women liked to lick the tears from her face which only distressed her more.

“My sister and I were too young to serve as prostitutes, but we played with the young teenagers.  A favorite game was “Catch the rabbit”.  Laura and I were the rabbits.  The other girls would chase us until they caught us and then push us down and hold us. 

“'We've caught you, Rabbit,' they would say.  'Now let's see if you have any meat on you.'  Their fingers explored our bodies, tickling our bellies, running down our as yet unbroken slits, and pinching our nipples.  I remember feeling my stomach cramping up a little in excitement but not much more.

“One day when they caught me, things went a little different.  I had started growing a little hair around my pussy.  I was fifteen or sixteen years old.

“'Oh look at the rabbit, she's getting all furry down here,” they said.  They stroked me much as one might stroke a cat or a dog.  I felt the familiar tightening of my stomach, but something more, too. 

“'Rabbit is getting wet,' they said.  They dipped their fingers into my clit and into my vagina.  I had never felt this sensation before.  As they worked their way around, I started squirming, pushing my clit towards them.

“'Our pet likes this,' they said.  'Let's see what happens when we scratch down here some more.'

“I found myself breathing harder.  My stomach undulated in rhythm with their searching of my vagina.  'Please, please.  Please don't stop.'  They laughed and held back their caresses for a moment.

“'Does Rabbit promise to be a good rabbit and do everything we say?'

“I shoved my pussy around, trying to find a hand that would renew my pleasuring. 'Yes, yes.  I will be a good rabbit.'

“The girls laughed and looked at each other.  'I think our rabbit will be a good pet.  Let's tell her the rules.'

“'First, Rabbit must always let us catch her.

“'Second, Rabbit must give us what we want in the same way we give to Rabbit.

“'Finally, Rabbit must always remember that she is our plaything.  When we call to her, she must come immediately.

“'Does Rabbit agree to this?'

“I wanted to feel where their play was taking me, to be their prisoner, their pet. So I said without hesitation 'Yes.'

“'Very good.  Now we will play with Rabbit.'

“And they did.

“They rubbed, they sucked, they poked, and they stroked.  My mind was no longer in my brain, but down between my thighs.  I arched my back upwards to get closer to them.  One of them dipped her finger in my sex and let me lick it.  That was the first time I had tasted any woman and I liked the flavor.  Suddenly I lifted my butt from the ground and felt the pleasure burn through me.  The girls who realized my sexual awakening chattered excitedly and made me come again.  After that I was their total slave;  I liked being their pet.  I would truly do anything for them.  And from that day, when these women called to me, I came, to let them explore me, to explore them, to give them pleasure, and to come.”

“I helped my sister come for the first time soon after that and made her one of my lovers.  We were teenagers and with the first appearance of hair about our pussies, we were trained in the sexual arts. 

“One day we saw our mother napping.  The paleness of her skin and her flame-colored hair excited us.  Laura got some binding and together we tied her up.  She woke when she tried to turn over. 

“'Mommy is so pretty that we just can't keep our hands away from her pretty body.'

“'Please girls,' she wept.  'Please don't do this to your mother.'

“'But Mommy,' we said, 'We want to make you happy.

“'This is not going to make me happy,' she said.

“'Yes it will, Mommy.'  And we began to masturbate her with Laura massaging her pussy and me sucking on her nipples.  She fought the ecstasy for as long as she could but at last it surrounded her entirely.  She came repeatedly for twenty or thirty times until we stopped.   Then she went to sleep, crying, holding us close to her.

Mama wept because she knew that she was the slave of the entire village, including her daughters.

Review This Story || Author: Darkstorm
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