Elizabeths Roman Awakening Ch 10

31.

Interlude 3 (reprise): Elizabeth and Joseph arrive at Lake Manengouba

Joseph had not yet told Elizabeth that he would have to share her with his brothers and he wasn't looking forward to the prospect with any relish. Ordinarily as youngest brother, he was never allowed to touch much less share the Headman's women. The same was true of his eldest brother Hank, but that was more out of a sense of respect than tribal custom. Hank had been passed over by their father as his successor on the grounds that he was much too soft and less of a warrior than his middle brother. Hank had not minded, especially as things turned out. He had gone to Princeton and then to medical school, all the while living a life of total privilege. He had lost count of the number of women of all races he had bedded. Later, his gynecology and obstetrics practice plus the activities of Africa Rising had been extremely fulfilling. Only when he and Laura whom he had bred fled, a step ahead of the police did a return to Africa seem an appealing alternative.

Now all three brothers would be together in Nigeria, with their women. Now they would seek to consolidate their hold on the Europeans who believed they were exploiting the tribal "primitives." But with threatening militants at their tribal areas storm clouds of war were gathering, the reunion would be anything but trouble free.

Joseph stroked his chin as he looked over a view of his homelands on Google Earth on his monitor and began to plan for the future. Over his shoulder, his most trusted lieutenant Harun, his dark eyes unreadable in the reflected glow of the computer, planned too.

32.

Interlude 4: Elizabeth Arrives in Lagos

Elizabeth hated the heat and humidity of this part Africa from the moment she emerged from the family's private Gulfstream. It hit her like a hot wet blanket. Instinctively, she pulled at her neck as though an actual blanket was trying to cover her. The seemingly endless asphalt of the airport's secluded private arrivals compound radiated upwards and she began to sweat profusely between her pale thighs, her underarms, and under her breasts now grown to size 38 and swollen with milk for the black prince she carried in her womb.

Above her on a parapet overlooking the nondescript concrete and asphalt were at least six of the tribe's alpha males, sent here to escort her safely to one of the tribal lands that had grown so large as to encompass lands from the southern tip of Lake Tchad along the Nigeria-Cameroon border to Mount Manengouba, encircled by dense jungle and vegetation and ringed by mountain peaks. The ultimate destination was unclear and in fact was explicitly not revealed to her armed escort, to guard against possible treachery and betrayal. The Acuncumbie regime had not remained the unchallenged masters of their domain for hundreds of years by becoming overly trusting and this expedition was no exception.

Although the circuitous route would take them six to eight days by land, it was mostly within the lands under their control. Further, a pair of three man "shadow squads" made up of entirely of warriors under the control of Harun, the family's most trusted caporegime, would sweep the route to deal with any problems. Outside the few urban enclaves, the rule of semi-automatic rifles prevailed, and the Acuncumbie family was well equipped in that department.

They would travel through an area so vast that Teejan, the family's head bragged to infrequent visitors from Nigeria, Chad and Cameroon, that he was considering becoming a separate country. Although the entourage would pass through urban areas as far north as Sokoto, and as large as Ajube, they would adhere to the practice of making camp nightly in the outback because it was easier to secure.

Observing Elizabeth's delicate features from their perch three stories above the tarmac, the alpha warriors were already daydreaming about which of them this white beauty would fall to. That she loved black men, and particularly the black men of their tribe, was obvious from the curving baby bump gracing her belly. Harun's shadow squad were in a copse of trees outside the high chain link fence and unnoticed by the 'official' escort, but they were thinking along similar lines. The tribe's policy was 'hands off' as far as the royal family's women, but if the woman herself by chance should initiate the sex, who were they to refuse? Besides, Elizabeth was already impregnated with Prince Jusef's sperm, so she was in some sense fair game.

Just two weeks previous, Harun's men had done a similar mission escorting a squad bearing a young woman - pale, redheaded and most definitely pregnant with one of the royals princes' spawn. She had been screwed repeatedly by two of Harun's men only because the main escort group had been instructed to route far north to act as a decoy, while Harun's men had driven with her through Gombe. The girl actually seemed to enjoy or at least accept the sex with them and if there had been a third in the squad, they had little doubt she would have taken him too. She seemed almost sad two days later when they rendezvoused with the main force, looking back wistfully at them as they disappeared into the bush. Neither spoke the others' language, but it was apparent she would happily welcome them when they arrived at the destination.

In the satisfaction of multiple couplings, the shadow escorts had completely ignored Harun's whispered instructions that "if it became possible, the fetus along with the girl could disappear without any problem or reprimand." He even suggested that they might say they were set upon by a stronger force of pirates and bartered the girl away for their lives, or that she miscarried and died on the rough roads. They both decided that the former was an affront to their manhood and warrior skills and the latter would deprive them of future sex and potential breeding with a most willing, and enthusiastic (and to their eyes exotic) western woman. In their minds, it would be easier to slip a snake into the newborn's wicker cradle and accomplish the same goal. Such things happened all the time, and it made the grieving mother all the more anxious to become pregnant again to ensure her perceived worth.

Now two weeks later, Harun's men sat lazily on the bonnet of one of their Land Rovers and watched through field glasses as Elizabeth was ushered around Immigration and Customs by an obsequious chubby white male, a loyal retainer they knew simply as 'Cowles', long on the family payroll. Cowles would assure that no record of Elizabeth ever entering the country would exist. The official sweated through a rumpled white linen suit as he processed her papers (which would later be tossed into a trash bin).

As he looked at the gentle curves of her face and her white shoulders, his tiny dick twitched as he thought of all the black hands, lips and cocks she would experience in her life after she disappeared into the interior. When she answered a few questions for him, he reflexively mopped his brow with a damp pocket kerchief. The pudgy bureaucrat suffered both from the ever-oppressive heat and a constant case of nerves.

When she responded with a minimum of conversation, he did note her uninflected English and found it very curious.She was clearly not one of the usual Russian or Eastern European girls, brought in to serve as party favors for the tribe members or other visiting government officials, then 'disappeared' into a life of sexual slavery. In addition, she was already obviously pregnant and seemed to be cooperating with her entourage of burly black men in khaki field uniforms with no hint of coercion.

As was his practice, he guided her through a harshly-lit, narrow private corridor where he had secretly installed video cameras and made sure she walked right by a trio of lenses that captured her full face, profile, and a view up her skirt. If things ever went sour for him, he would have ample bargaining chips to extort favors from the family or what passed for a government in Ajuba. Later that night he would review the video before storing it in his safe.

He would masturbate and imagine situations where he might be able to fuck a beautiful woman like her, perhaps forcibly, perhaps with her having made a desperate bargain with him. From her accent, he was fairly certain she was American, the second this month. That would be an extra valuable bargaining chip as American women, especially white women, seldom disappeared without someone coming round to investigate. Yes, he would enjoy masturbating while looking at her image he thought. He also wondered if these women with their accent free English were an avant garde wave of American girls recruited to be wives and breeders for the tribe.

A few years ago, one of the princes, a fat middle son who had made a name for himself in America as a doctor had, after one too many glasses of port, explained that the tribe was running a deep undercover operation on college campuses and in the media to "help white girls overcome their cultural programming," and to become "acquainted with the inherent superiority of African men."

The prince guffawed and then bragged that within a few years it would be impossible to see either commercials or regular programs in America without seeing interracial couples, and that the 'black snake' had already bitten over a hundred 'breeding age' American beauties on the campuses the family controlled. Although disgusted, Cowles had never forgotten the story and wondered idly how he might one day be able to entice one of these girls away from the tribe.

Cowles sighed in vain, knowing that "once black, never back" was not simply a prideful boast - he had both heard and seen too much, often from European husbands with whom he regularly commiserated at the shabby colonial era watering hole who cried in dirty tumblers of gin and tonic. More than once, he had heard the same tale from different lips: a husband coming home to discover both his wife and his manservant missing; a hastily scrawled note in his wife's hand reading simply, "I'm sorry, please try to understand;" an emptied armoire and the eerie silence of their house.

Turning back to the airport lobby he reflected on what an insane place this whole country was. He watched her smooth, sleek form retreat into a black Range Rover, flanked by several Land Rovers at the head and midsection of the column. Three Ashok Leyland Stallion covered supply trucks lumbered along at the rear He lingered to mop his brow and to get his heart rate under control. He stood in the cross breeze of the corridor long enough to witness a trio of white Toyota Hiluxes speed off in pursuit.

33.

Interlude 5: On the Road. Danger Threatens

After an hour on the road, the smooth asphalt became packed dirt roads, became open outback. It would be another day before the convoy found itself under the tree-shrouded canopy covering the terrain to the north. Because of the diversionary maneuvers, even more days would be consumed before they jogged south and into the marginally cooler jungle with its lush vegetation.

Elizabeth generally tolerated heat of summers back home well and spent the majority of the summers back home stripped down to a tee top and cut off shorts, relishing the feeling of going braless and working in the rich soil of their suburban garden. This place was something else altogether. Here in the relentless heat, her normally perky breasts felt pendulous with milk and sheen of sweat liberally coated the skin beneath them and literally dripped everywhere else, from her underarms to the deep recesses between her thighs. She braced herself on the slippery leather seat, not gaining the slightest relief from the constant assault of the bumpy terrain.

Shortly after mid-day, the convoy stopped to reconnoiter the terrain and choose between three possible diversionary routes. Elizabeth jumped from the rear seat and took the opportunity to look for a place to relieve herself. Shielding her eyes with her hand, she found only a tiny stand of scrub bush. Wanting to be away from her armed escorts, if only for a few minutes, she marched resolutely across the open field kicking up tiny clouds of dust with her sandals. It was not how she had envisioned this part of the journey and she couldn't remember a time when she felt so worthless and forgotten.

Arriving at the meager stand of brush, she squatted low, hiked her dress up and pulled her panties down around her ankles. As her stream splashed over the dusty earth, she grumbled to herself that she would be having words with Joseph once they reached the capital of his kingdom, carved from the jungle. She noticed that her panties had accidentally become soaked with a stream of her urine and she yelled a long string of expletives into the emptiness. She finally stood, shouting, "Fuck, fuck, fuck! Grrrrr!" and kicked the panties off into the dirt.

The team armed guards who had ridden in her vehicle from the start kept a close watch through field glasses, and both laughed at her antics and her frustration. They were joking with one another about, given the chance, what they would do to her pussy when the first volley of shots zinged over their heads. A moment later when they heard the explosive report of the rifles they dove under the Rover, then scooted to face the attack.

Another series of shots from a semi-automatic rifle perhaps three hundred meters from their position, ricocheted off the nearby rocks or buried themselves in the dirt in front of them. Suddenly, one of the guards sprang from his cover and ran to find cover behind a flat rock closer to the attackers. A string of shots tracked his movement and before he could reach cover, a bullet hit his thigh with a loud "splat" sound. He dropped in his tracks writhing in pain, and could only watch the attackers as they sped toward their position in a pair of dirty white Hilux trucks. Elizabeth ducked down into the dirt and covered her head.

Other armed escorts in the convoy had begun returning fire, and the air was filled with the thunderous sound of the firefight. Elizabeth crawled over rough rocks and hid behind a barren bush.

To her right, she saw the attackers climb into the beds of their trucks and several seconds later she saw the trucks speeding toward her. More accurately she saw their dust clouds, and calculating the distance, she ran to the injured guard and grabbed his AR-15. She was familiar with weapons from her girlhood, and her fingers automatically found and flipped the safety. Crouching behind the prone guard, using him for cover she looked down the sight and carefully squeezed off several rounds. She thought she might have hit the lead truck, but to no effect. Brushing her hair back and wiping the sweat from her eyes, she took sight again and tried to regulate her breathing. She fired in concert with the other guards and they were definitely scoring hits on the onrushing trucks.

When the attackers had come within a hundred meters of the convoy, a trio of trucks appeared over a rise on their northern flank as if from nowhere cutting off the attackers. Men stood in the bed of the military beige trucks and fired machine guns at the attackers. Within a few short minutes, the firefight was over and the attackers were dead.

Elizabeth shook uncontrollably and buried her head in her hands. Tears ran in a dusty track over her dirty cheeks. Hearing her sobs, the guards crawled out from under the truck and walked toward her on shaky legs. In days to come they would reflect on her courage and the tales of her strength and coolness under fire would precede their arrival in the kingdom and with every repetition, her stature grew a bit more. Both the alpha males and the tribe's women looked forward anxiously to meeting this beautiful white creature, whom some had already dubbed, "Warrior Woman."

In the moment, though she was having a difficult time holding it together. She wiped tears from her eyes, stood up, brushed off the dirt and turned her attention to the injured guard. His leg pumped blood, albeit slowly. The bullet had not struck an artery and that was good news.

She motioned to the other escorts to load him into the bed of one of the Stallion supply trucks. They hefted him and dropped him loudly onto the hot metal bed. He was so tall his legs extended slightly over backend of the truck, even with the gate down. He groaned in pain and could barely lift his hand to shield his eyes from the relentless sun. Elizabeth hopped gingerly up and perched on the side of the bed. Looking down at him, she quickly assessed their situation.

She noted that none of her retinue other than the wounded guard appeared to be hurt. One of their trucks was clearly comprised, steam rising from it's engine and a steady trickle of oil disappeared into the sand on its passenger side. Other than that they were surprisingly intact. The truck and Land Rovers that had come to their rescue circled the area slowly, keeping a couple hundred meters distance from them. She waved them in and began barking orders even before the men jumped out of the vehicles. In a loud but shaky voice, she instructed them to strip the truck down and divide its contents amongst the remaining cars and pickups.

She pointed to the wounded guard and then to a Land Rover, and barked out orders: The one Rover and the Hiluxes would drive as fast as possible to the next town to get aid for the fallen guard while the Leyland trucks would follow behind as soon as the scene had been secured. To one of the men in the shadowy rescue contingent, she shouted, "Hey you. Before you leave, check those bodies for identification. The Prince will want to know everything and will expect you to be thorough!" The burly warrior looked irritated at first, not believing the assertiveness of this diminutive white woman. He started to growl an objection, then looking back over his shoulder at the carnage, simply shrugged and gestured for another man to follow him.

Eliza heaved herself into the truck bed, then ripped four inches or so of material from the skirting of her dress. Kneeling between the wounded guard's legs, she wound the cotton skirting round the bloody thigh and pulled with all her strength to bind the wound. She pounded on the truck cabin's back window and screamed. "Move your ass."

The sudden takeoff of the lumbering truck wrenched her backwards, but still she held to the ends of the binding as though her life depended on it. The pulsing of blood trickled to a stop and she knotted the makeshift bandage with a lariat loop, so she could periodically loosen then retighten it.

A constant stiff wind blew her hair back from her face drying the accumulated sweat. She knelt low, tucking herself in tight against the wounded guard. He moaned every time they hit a rut in the dirt track and Elizabeth shielded his eyes with a scrap of cardboard. Every ten minutes or so, she took his pulse, eased up the tourniquet pressure for a few moments, and poured water through the wounded man's parched lips. Once when they slowed to make a wide sweeping turn around an outcropping, it became quiet enough to hear conversation for a few moments.

The man grasped her outstretched arm and said in a voice carrying the lyrical lilt of African-inflected English, but hardly more than a whisper, "Thank you Princess for saving me. If I live, my life now belongs to you, and those of my sons as well. This is my vow. We are yours now." He nodded at one of the other guards in the distance, and forced out the words, "My brother will watch over you now. Go to him when you need help." His voice tapered off, and began a long choking cough and Elizabeth noticed blood mixed with his sputum. Only then did she notice his other wound. Ripping open his shirt, she saw the entry wound in his abdomen, and began applying pressure with both hands. She shouted urgently through the truck cabin's backlight begging the driver to hurry.