The Maasai Warrior Queen & Her Daughter (JIMP#35)

Female tribal leader and her daughter demonstrate their fighting skill

SPOILER: Jim explores London Below and is attacked by a thug then saved by a tall African woman, Isina, in an unusual fight on a train. Leading Jim to her tribe, they watch her teenaged daughter, Naipanoi, put the male wrestling champion in his place. The girl then gives Jim a private demonstration of her powerful muscles while dominating him. The thug reappears and Isina takes him on in a fight that demonstrates her amazing jumping skills.

Some people got very upset about this story but I’m not sure why. Maybe it was the more Sci-Fi elements that I wanted to explore. Isina is based on another of Chris Achilleous’s paintings “Maasai” and Naiponoi from the above photo of some rather strong looking young tribe girls about to wrestle – look at how strong, self-confident the girl in the middle is and look at the tight hard glutes on the 2 facing away from the camera. Nicholson is based on a rather unpleasant person I encountered in my youth except there was no Maasai woman to save me.

The following story contains descriptions of sex and violence. If this offends you or if you are under the legal age of consent in your country do not read on. Although based on real people, names have been changed to protect the innocent. Any other likeness to anyone dead or alive or fictional is purely coincidental.
(c) JIM P 2011
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Part 1: Fight on a Train
We lived good contented lives on the semi-arid plains of our homelands. It was an uncomplicated nomadic life, in harmony with nature. Of all the Maasai, we were The Hand of the Goddess. The noblest, the most beautiful, the most intelligent and the rulers of all we surveyed. All that changed one dreadful day when the white man came to our lands. The savages had no dignity and would not engage us nobly hand-to-hand but cut us down at a distance with their fire sticks.

They packed the survivors one atop the other in the bowels of their huge boats so tightly that one could not defecate without soiling the person beneath. For weeks they sailed us across the seas, the stench preceding us for many leagues. At night for their sport, the white heathens would select women and bring them to the upper deck where they would sluice them down before taking them like a beast. Many of the savages died before they learnt not to touch the women of The Hand.

They brought us to their homeland where they forced us to excavate hell with our bare hands. Thousands died through the whip or when the roof collapsed. But they could not keep out the water. Many slipped beneath the waves to the Great Plains in the sky.

There was silence around the campfire as the leader of the clan finished her story. In the light of the flickering flames, I looked up at Isina, their youthful Queen, radiating authority and respect. Like the rest of her tribe she was very tall, well over 6 feet, with a slender lithe body and long elongated limbs and extremely dark toned skin. Her shaven head was tall and narrow with an elongated face containing elegant refined traits, slender eyes, long straight nose, and a small mouth with moderately thick lips. A headpiece constructed from beaded straps wrapped around the top of her head with two straps hanging from the forehead, arcing under her high cheekbones and attached to her earlobes. A large beaded circlet surrounded her long slender neck, angled almost vertically like a halo around her head. An iron hunting spear in one hand, she held in the other a large heart-shaped shield of hardened bull-skin decorated with a distinctive red, yellow and brown pattern. I was under no illusion that these weren’t decorative ornaments and that she was fully adept at using them. Apart from various bangles and ornaments, the only item of practical clothing that Isina wore was a brown skin skirt that hung low at the back but was very short at the front and slit high on her hips. I couldn’t but help stare at her firm sinewy body and full pointy firm bare breasts.

The rest of the tribe, men and women alike favoured bright red skin cloaks folded lengthways and worn over the left shoulder with a short skirt and thick sandals. All were bedecked with large beaded necklaces and the women generally had shaved heads and wore beaded ornaments in both the ear lobe with smaller piercings at the top of the ear, while the male warriors had long braided hair and favoured red ochre on their faces.

While I remained seated with Isina and the elders, the young men got up and formed a line and began to chant rhythmically in growling voices and staccato coughs while thrusting their pelvises. Facing them stood a line of young women making the same pelvis lunges while singing a high descending counterpoint. Although their bodies came in close proximity, they did not touch. The explicit flirting continued with perceptibly growing sexual tension. Young men and women alike broke into sporadic standing jumps of great height, each sex trying to outdo the other. From what I could see, the girls were winning, elegantly springing from a standing start to an incredible height. The young women had removed their cloaks and proudly displayed their firm toned bodies wearing only a short braided skirt. I couldn’t help staring at the lithe sinewy bodies with their firm pert breasts, flat toned stomachs and lanky sinewy legs. “The girls are fit and strong but they are not for outsiders” Isina’s voice broke my attention and I flushed with embarrassment at being caught. Without breaking a smile she told me. “As a guest you will abide by our laws and customs. Women choose which men they will lie with. You will pleasure me tonight as repayment for your debt to me”. The words were a shock but my arousal was abated by what she said next. “Men who fail to satisfy women are put to death”. Her dark cold eyes bored into me.

*** A few hours earlier ***
With the Kung Fu dental nurses distracted [JIMP#34]; I sneaked down to the sub-basement and found the stone doorway with a Masonic shield engraved above the lintel. I noted the ancient engineering of the open thick heavy wooden door. Deep recesses were cut into thick stone protecting the hinges from attack and enabling the door to be securely locked against forced entry. I found myself in a narrow claustrophobic tunnel with a rounded ceiling so low that anyone over 6 foot would have been unable to passed unbent. The walls were lined with ancient thin red bricks liberally covered with large clumps of green moss and patches of glistening damp. As I moved away from the doorway, the passage became very dark and gloomy, lit only by sporadic low energy light bulbs that were connected by ancient rusty metal pipes. My eyes adjusting to the semi-darkness and with the smell of musky damp in the air, I followed the tunnel as it sloped downwards in a long lazy spiral descent.

After what seemed like ages of walking at an angle, I came to a straighter stretch where I could see it opening into a much more brightly lit space. With growing alarm, I made out a Guard post and began to worry about how I was going to get past. As I got closer, I noticed that the guards appeared to be only policing people exiting the way I came. Indeed they were checking the passes of a couple of men who then started to approach me.

I suddenly heard my shoes splashing through water. Looking down, I could just about make out in the gloom that the corridor ahead was flooded with shallow water. That made me stop, unsure how to proceed, although the water didn’t seem to bother the approaching men. Unfortunately this also drew the attention of the guards. “Forgotten your waders, mate? You won’t do that again in a hurry will you?” one of them laughed nastily. The other men smirked as they passed by. Not wanting to draw any further scrutiny, I walked on, trying to avoid eye contact. As the floor levelled, I felt cold water fill my shoes, wet my socks then creep up my leg until I found myself in it up to mid-calf. With the Guards watching, I could do nothing but grin and bear it, and try to act as if this were an everyday occurrence.

I certainly never expected anything like the sight that greeted me as I left the tunnel. I needed all of my self-control not to stop and gawp like a newbie. Having spent many years riding the London Underground system, I recognised the sight of a brightly lit intersection of pedestrian passages of a Tube station. Semi-circular in shape, the main corridors were wide enough for three or four people to walk side-by-side and high enough for anyone to walk unimpeded. The walls were lined with Victorian looking white tiles with a double-banded central border of narrow dark green and interspersed with the famous roundels. The familiarity was spoilt by the flooded corridors that were eerily lit from beneath by blue strip lighting running along the walls at floor level. So this wasn’t just a temporary inconvenience. Not wanting to make it obvious that I didn’t belong down here, I headed down a corridor marked ‘East bound trains”. Wading awkwardly through the flooded tunnel as the bottoms of my trouser legs plastered themselves to my legs, I tried to ignore the unpleasant wet sensation of feet in waterlogged shoes.

A few minutes of wading down a corridor trying to stay calm like the other people who nonchalantly strode past me, I found myself on a flooded platform. There were low plastic benches along one wall and a high glass partition dividing it lengthways from floor to ceiling. Set into this were automated sliding doors, like those on the Jubilee line at stations such as Westminster. Although as I was shortly to discover, here they served a different purpose. Curiously, I wondered how a train could move through such a deep body of water or draw power when the electrified rails were underwater. On the opposite wall, there was a list of the stations on what was the Templeforth Line, denoted in Royal purple. The names were familiar but their order bore no resemblance to the lines that I knew.

Looking further along, I noticed that the power rails were actually set into the roof rather than the floor. Soon I felt the familiar change in air pressure and sounds of metal on metal that signalled an approaching train. There was another unfamiliar sound that I puzzled over until a high wave of water burst through from one end. A torrent of water stormed against the glass partition as the train entered the station. As the wave subsided and sheets of water drained down the glass, I saw that it looked like a normal Tube train with a few modifications. A metal bow had been fitted to the front below the driver’s window and on top of the carriages were metal trellises that picked up the current from the rails in the ceiling. There were also longitudinal grills cut near the water level of each carriage from which water was pouring. As the train came to a halt and the water became less turbulent, the doors in the platform partition slid back in unison with the carriage doors to reveal a brilliant blue line beneath the water marking the edge of the carriage. I stepped aboard.

There were a few people already onboard and I saw that they sat on benches that ran along the backs of the conventional seating. The cushioned seats had been replaced by metal grille boarding upon which the passengers rested their damp feet. I took a seat and found myself sitting opposite a tall willowy African woman dressed in a long dress that seemed to consist of layers of red and orange cloth wrapped and draped over her body. A long multi-stranded bead necklace hung from her neck and she wore a sort of beaded headdress. The woman, who looked like she might be in her mid to late 30’s, kept staring at me with an aloof air that made me uncomfortable and I looked away. The doors closed and the train pulled off with a lurch that sent waves of water down the middle of the carriage then dispersed through the grilles that I had seen earlier.

Trying to blank out the stare of the African woman, I studied a map of the Tube system which posted close to her. An unfamiliar topography indicated that this was the main line running beneath the capital. That was my undoing. A man sitting on the opposite bench wearing jeans and a T-shirt glared at me fiercely and smirked. He had a very pale brown skin and a short Afro with a broad, chubby cheeked face, a large broad nose and a wide mouth with thick lips. The way he looked at me cross-eyed was disturbing and I tried to ignore him. He continued to glare at me and smirk. I guessed he was in his forties and quite heavily built although quite podgy. The grinning man got up and crossed the carriage. Before I could do anything, he was leaning over me. His big chubby face came right up close, his cross-eyed stare discomforting. “I don’t like you” he sneered. “You’re new here, I can tell. Around here you have to pay me a toll to travel. £500” he snarled, the thick lips on his broad mouth curling. “Leave him alone Riever” the African woman spoke up in a low sonorous voice. “You shut your mouth cunt-a kinte” he spat back at her, emphasising the foul four-letter word. “Tell you what just give me your credit card and your PIN” he snarled, his face wrinkled in menace as he fixed me with his skewed stare. “Go away. Leave me alone. Get off me, who do you think you are?” I protested nervously. The man laughed. “Steve Nicholson’s the name and I’m a bastard. Now give me the money”. “Arghhh!” I cried in agony as the bastard peered into my eyes and clamped his bent fingers against my temples then started to twist them. “Huh huh huh huh” the City types in the carriage began a grunting chant like a pack of gorillas. All I could see was the bastard’s googly eyes and manically grinning mouth as the stubs of his fingers ground painfully against my temples. “Arghh stop it please” I cried. “Huh huh huh huh” the morons in smart business suits chanted. The bastard just laughed as he tried to drill his way into my skull. I tried to pull his hands off but I was too paralysed by the blinding pain that sliced through the top of my head.

“Hnnargh” a low almost feral cry sounded as a blur of a dark skin slashed in from my right, hammering the thug on the side of his head. “Ow!” he cried as the kick unbalanced him, knocking him sideways into the water. “I said leave him alone Riever” the elegant looking black woman said as she stood with her lanky legs astride the carriageway, a sandaled foot resting on the board either side and holding onto the handrails overhead. The lower part of her cloak had fallen away from her legs and despite my throbbing temples I gawped at the amount of flesh on display. Although very slender, her ebony skin beautifully highlighted well-toned thighs and slim calves that were small but thickly muscled. A bronze coloured metal bracelet adorned each ankle. “You’re dead cunt-a. Effing slave whore” Nicholson cried as he pulled himself up.

“Rarrrr!” Nicholson screamed, his fat chubby face contorted with rage as he hurled himself across the carriage towards where the woman was standing. He missed. Showing no emotion, the woman calmly leapt nimbly at the last second using the overhead rails to swing herself backwards out of his grasp. The thuggish semi-black man crashed into the seats, where upon the woman returned and raised a lanky ebony thigh. Nicholson looked up at the woman standing on the seat above him with a foot poised over his face. “Hnnawww!” she cried as she stomped a thick wooden sandal straight in the middle of his face, the vibrations of the blow making the muscles in her thigh ripple. “Argh!” the brute cried, clutching his face, blood oozing out between his fingers. “You effing bitch! You’re dead!” he cried as the woman leapt away to the other side of the carriage.

His face darkened and with blood pouring from his nose and lip, the thug threw himself at the woman, causing other passengers to scramble out of the way in alarm. It almost looked like he had her when she slipped his grasp and leapt over his head as graceful as a gazelle. “Hnnnarr!” she yelled as she turned and drove her fist into the small of his back. “Arggh!” he cried, arching his back, his face contorted with pain. “Yes!” I heard one of the female passengers mutter.

“I’ll effing kill you!” he screamed and like a possessed berserker hurled himself across the carriage again and again in a desperate attempt to catch the calm nimble woman. Each time he missed as she narrowly sprung away from one side of the train to the other. The unpredictable rocking motion of the train didn’t seem to faze her as she leapt sure-footedly down the carriage, showing no emotion on her serene looking face. Finally she reached the end of the row of seating where it met the open area in front of a pair of opposing double doors. The nasty smirk on Nicholson’s face showed that he had realised the same thing. “Nowhere to run cunt-a. Time to die, whore” he snarled flinging himself forward once more. With an astonishing mighty leap, which she made look so effortless and graceful, the woman leapt across the open area to the far side. Using the dangling black rubber hand grasps she propelled herself fluidly into the corner by the door. Swinging her body around, she came to a halt suspended in the air with one foot jammed against the corner of the door and the other pressing against the glass of the small partition before the next row of seats, with her legs bent. How she kept herself in that elevated position baffled me but she looked so at ease that it bordered on arrogance. The lower part of her cloak fell completely forward, revealing the full glory of her incredible long legs. I noticed how her bunched up calves bulged powerfully and her striated thighs rippled and shone with latent energy.

Seeing her trapped in the corner, Nicholson charged. Suddenly she uncoiled like a pliant twig that had been bent back, her elongated legs springing forwards in a flash. “Hnnaree!” THUD! Both feet smashed him clean under the chin as her legs swung upwards in an arc in perfect unison. The brute’s head snapped back hard with an audible click of his grinning teeth, the force of the kick driving him clean off his feet to land on his backside on the waterlogged floor.

For a long moment, there was silence as the thug just sat in the water looking dazed. “Effing Cunt” Nicholson suddenly spat, feeling his jaw and wincing. Solemnly and silently the woman swung again like a deadly aerial gymnast and landed lightly on her feet just as the thug was starting to rise. Looking up at the tall slender woman towering over him, he stopped mid-crouch, eyes widening in horror as she serenely lifted a thigh chest high with the foot poised over his face. “Niii-yah!” she shouted, causing my groin to lurch with expectancy then her foot hammered his face. There was an explosion of blood as her thick sandal pummelled his face again, the sinewy muscles in her thigh rippling under the jarring impact. The man fell back into the water and lay unmoving, blood streaming from his ruined nose and mouth spreading around him like a vile piece of modern art. “Niii yiiiii yiiii!” a shrill trilling cry signalled the woman’s victory, her face for the first time showing emotion, as she looked exuberant. I watched in stunned silence, my groin throbbing at the sight of this magnificently legged woman standing over her senseless opponent.

Part 2: Teen wrestler & the victor’s prize
The other passengers shifted in their seats uncomfortably trying to act as if nothing had happened especially those financiers who had earlier been monkey-grunting the thug encouragement. The train started to slow down as it approached another station. “You must come with me” the woman commanded fixing me with her dark eyes. “Thank you, but I think this is my stop” I tell her, not wanting to get involved with this strange dangerous woman. “Not that I’m ungrateful for your help”. The woman grabbed the handrails and swung quickly towards me. “You do not belong here. You have no badge but you do not look like a slave” she whispered urgently in my ear. “I saved your life; you are mine until you repay the debt. Come” she said, her long slender hand taking mine. Ouch! She had a surprisingly strong steely grip that threatened to crush my hand giving me no choice but to stand. I tried to resist by pulling back. “Stop please” I started to protest. The woman faced me at arms length, and then a thick sandaled foot blasted close to my face as her leg shot up until the top of her thigh bounced off her chest, making me cringe in fear. Not saying a word, she turned and led me towards the doors. Balancing myself against the deceleration and the roiling motion of the waves that now shot up the centre of the carriage; I had to struggle to keep up. “Stop dawdling or I will carry you over my shoulder like a little child” she admonished as the doors opened and she pulled me onto the platform.

Once the crowds had thinned and we were heading down another flooded corridor, I decided that I had enough and stopped. “I’m not moving another step until you tell me who you are?” I told her, staring down her fierce look of annoyance. “I am Isina, the Queen of my people. Now no more talking or I will silence you myself” she stated firmly then attempted to pull me along. Again, I dug in my heels and resisted. “Not until you’ve answered some questions” I said. The tall woman came close so that I had to look up into her face. “In my culture men never question a woman’s command especially that of their Queen” she stated. “Arghh!” I yelped as she moved to my side and laced a long slender arm inside my elbow and back across my forearm. Pressing down with her forearm against mine she stressed my joints. “Ouch!” I was forced onto my toes as the bones in my arm felt as if they were grinding against each other. “You will come or I will break your arm then carry you” she stated. Arm in arm, she led me down the corridor wincing as every step jolted my arm. “OK OK I’ll come quietly, please let my arm go” I begged after only a few steps. “Very well but no more talking. This is not a safe place to talk” she said as she released my arm then took me lightly by the hand. I knew this wasn’t a sign of affection but because she didn’t trust me not to make a run for it.

Hand in hand we strode on through brightly lit intersections and corridors until we reached a much darker damper brick lined tunnel. We finally emerged in a large cavern with a small wharf alongside a canal with a lip of stone marking the boundary between the two. Craft of various types were on the water, including longboats and many that looked like floating rickshaws powered by modified bicycles driven by Orientals. The African woman led me to a small wooden rowing boat, its oarsman standing and bowing to the woman before giving her his hand to assist her onboard. I swore that he looked like a Maasai warrior. I start to open my mouth but was immediately silenced. “Speak here and I will drown you beneath my foot. Now get in the boat” she told me. The look that she gave me was so uncompromising that I did as I was told.

Sitting behind the oarsman with Isina behind me, the boat headed along the canal towards a small opening at the end of the cavern that I soon realised was another tunnel. This became so dark that I could not see where we were going. The only light came from the candle-lit lamps of passing craft and that from our own. After a while, I felt us slow, and then turn into a narrow side passage. Following a switchback, we emerged into a huge cavern, the floor of which rose out of the water. To my astonishment, there was a small settlement there complete with huts and even small animals in an enclosure.

As Isina led me ashore, I observed how well lit the encampment is by several large beacons set high up on ledges around the rim of the cavern. Like oversized lanterns, each is set in a large glass fronted cabinet backed with large mirrors to reflect the light. Brick chimneys draw the smoke away and through the roof of the cave. “Our ancestors were brought here as slaves to build these tunnels for the greedy white man. We learn quickly and use his technology for our own purposes” she told me. “The beacon is fuelled by methane from the shit of the white savages” she added. I looked at her to see if she was joking, but her face was an expressionless mask.

Heading towards the cluster of wooden huts, we approach a group people who are crowded around an area where the floor had been levelled with a layer of sand. The men and women are tall and very slender wearing simple cloaks that favour red tones. “You are Maasai. The men are Maasai warriors” I exclaim. “Translated into your language we are The Hand of the Goddess and we are all warriors” Isina tells me. In the middle of the sandy area, two young men were grappling on the ground in the final stages of a wrestling match. Clad only in skin briefs, the bodies of each youth is covered in red ochre then oiled over the top. After much rolling and grappling, one of the men gets to his feet basking in the adoration of the crowd while his opponent lies twitching on the ground.

“I wish to see the next match” Isina tells me as the ring is cleared and another young man steps forward. He is tall, 6’5″ at least, lean and sinewy, full of cocky confidence he preens to the encouragement of the young men in the crowd. “He is the champion wrestler of the tribe. He is too confident” Isina tells me. The crowd on one side part and to my surprise a barely clothed girl enters the ring. She appears quite young, mid to late teens, possibly 17 or 18 with a head shaven apart from a short braided crown and a very rounded lower face, chubby with youth. However, her body is magnificent and firm looking with no sign of puppy fat. Standing around 5’6″, the girl is not only dwarfed by her opponent but is much younger, he being in his early to mid twenties. Her body has been liberally covered with a black oily mixture that makes her body highly reflective and stains everything that she is wearing, and that wasn’t much, making her look like a nude ebony figurine. I find the sight of her shiny oiled black skin and pert naked breasts stirring my loins so much that I have to look away. The young man is joking with his mates in the crowd. Although I couldn’t understand the language, their mannerism and expressions were the same in any culture, they thought this was a mismatch and she was easy meat.

I looked again at the glistening girl. Completely naked apart from a flap of skin stained black by the oil and strung around her waist and between her legs. Her only other adornment was some necklaces of black beads. She had a slightly boyish torso that on a girl so young made her look powerful but her near-nudity left no doubt of her blossoming femininity. She had a strong looking figure that sloped inwards quite noticeably from broad shoulders to a thick waist before curving out to her waist. Her trapezium muscle was thick and prominent as it sloped from her neck to her wide shoulders and prominent shoulder caps. The arms, although slender were taut with visible sinew. Her glistening oily breasts were medium sized and pert with large aureoles, slick with the black oil and hard jutting nipples. Beneath the firm shiny orbs, the wet look caused by the oil highlighted a washboard stomach with clear slabs of paved muscle. She stood with her legs astride, looking calm and confident showing no signs of nervousness. The sight filled me with lustful desire and longing. Her legs looked thicker than most of the men and women here with firm strong looking thighs and long toned calves. “My daughter, Naipanoi” Isina says with pride, making me anxious not to get a hard-on. “He must beat her if he wants to prove himself worthy as a mate” she adds.

As the crowd quietens down, the two opponents square off facing each other standing about a foot apart in the centre of the ring. The height difference is very noticeable, the girl’s head barely coming up to the young man’s chest. With the teen girl facing away from me, I get a great view of her rear and marvel at the beautiful chiselled contours of her muscled back and the sexiest backside that I’ve ever seen. Her small tight buttocks glisten like two ebony bowling balls placed side by side. “Girls wrestling boys. Isn’t that unusual?” I ask, unable to tear my eyes away from the glistening black glutes that look so hard that you could crack nuts on. “Wrestling is common in African culture. Families take pride in their daughters’ skill and strength. Rape is most unheard of” she replies.

The tall boy and mismatched girl collide grappling with each other while standing. As they strain against each other with their slender sinewed arms rippling as they strain against each other, the shorter girl seems rooted to the spot with her strong legs apart resisting the efforts of the young man to move her. I was shocked by how big her thighs had expanded as they bulged with thick solid muscle countering the push of the bigger boy. As the young man grunted and made faces, he tried to budge the immobile object that was the young girl. Her face was an emotionless mask that reminded me of her mother. “Hnnn” the boy grunted, unable to push the girl or make her bend, her strong upper body sturdy and unyielding. “Hnngh?” the boy grunted in surprise as he found himself being lifted and carried a few steps backwards by the teen girl before his feet regained the floor. The boy now appeared to be having difficulty controlling the younger girl as locked together in a trial of strength; she repeatedly lifted him in her arms for short moments that made him struggle to hold his balance. Her sensual oiled black skin highlighted the movement of her muscles as she bulldogged the bigger young man time and time again until there was no doubt who was the stronger. “Young men need to learn and accept the superiority of women. They are like bulls; full of testosterone but with small brains” Isina told me as I watched the fight, unable to stop my growing erection. The shiny skinned girl looked really powerful and was completely overwhelming the taller youth, who no longer looked so confident. “They must learn that women are smarter, stronger and much better fighters”.

Suddenly the boy stumbled backwards for about half a dozen steps as the shorter girl bulldozed him with astonishing strength, the muscles in her thighs and calves bulging with raw power. Before he could recover, the topless teen grabbed his head and pulled it down under her armpit in a headlock. Her sinewy arms glistened as they held tight, the boy now forced to bend forward as he slapped helplessly against the lean hard arms around his neck, unable to break free. With Naipanoi leaning forward pressing down on his head with her strong legs apart, she was in complete control to the amusement and cheers of the watching women. She held him firm like that for some time, any attempt by the boy to twist himself free were met with cries of alarm as her wiry arms cut into his neck. Suddenly the girl moved swiftly forward, turned herself against his body and swept the boy’s legs from under him with a foot. My cock went rigid at the sight of female dominance as the tall boy rode over the girl’s bare hip and slammed so hard onto the floor that he yelped loudly in pain.

As the young man hit the ground, a chorus of keen trilling filled the air as the watching women erupted in feverish excitement while the men grew strangely subdued with a look of resignation on their faces. Giving him no time to recover, Naipanoi flung herself across his chest, using both of her arms to stretch and lock one of his arms while doing the same with the other arm using her legs. The lanky young man struggled in vain to break the girl’s crosspin. Isina said something aloud that caused raucous laughter from the females in the crowd and looks of embarrassment from the men. “I tell them that he has given them somewhere to hang out their washing” she translated. It was true; the struggling young man was sporting a huge erection for all to see. I could emphasize, having your naked chest pressed against the slickly oiled nude torso of a hot hard-bodied young girl would have the same effect on most men.

“Oh!” I gasped as Isina’s hand grabbed my own stiffy through my trousers. “They could tie the other end of the line here” she chuckled. “You like strong women. Good. The Hand is a matriarchal society. Here women rule and men obey. Women are superior warriors, where they lead the men follow” she told me before removing her hand. The wrestling girl had unlocked her legs to change into a different hold but the young man seized the opening to fight back. For a moment, two slick lean bodies grapple on the ground. Then the boy grabs the girl’s legs around the knees and tries to bulldoze her down. Instead, she leans her body over his shoulder and presses down on his back using her lighter bodyweight while wrapping her arms tightly around his waist. Forced onto his knees and elbows, the boy struggles to keep hold of the teen’s legs as they jerk back trying to break free. In the blink of an eye, her legs broke from his grasp and quickly surrounded his head. “Nnnnnaaah” the young man cried as the girl applied a very tight looking reverse scissor hold with the muscles in her legs swelling up so large that I could no longer see the boy’s face. Her shiny black ebony thighs bulged so large that they seemed to swallow up his head like a snake devouring its prey. With the back of his head tight against her crotch, she straightened her legs forcing his neck to bend sharply skywards. “Nnnargh!” he cried again, grabbing futilely at her legs, his longer slender hands looking small against her powerfully bulging legs.

“Most white men that I’ve seen would be screaming like a baby and crying for mercy right now” Isina told me, watching the young man struggling to free himself from her daughter’s thick powerful thighs. “Any woman of the tribe could beat the majority of the white men down here with no difficultly. Most can beat their husbands as well” she adds.

The young man is a warrior and doesn’t give up easily. Using his greater bodyweight, he flings himself sideways and tries to press himself upwards with his coiled legs. The manoeuvre causes him to fall to his side with the girl clinging tight around his head like a limpet. Seemingly unaffected by the jarring impact, the almost nude girl quickly slides her legs around his neck and mounts his body so that she is now on his chest. Once again she straightens out her legs in a very tight looking reverse scissors. Her sexy compact backside wriggled up and down as the young man clung to her solid looking legs crushing his neck. Her hams swelled up and her thighs bulged powerfully as she bounced her victim’s head like a rag doll. The boy tries to roll his body but she clings tight and stretches out her legs, her calve muscles leaping into bold solid relief joining the rest of the fearsome looking power pouring down on the trapped boy’s neck. “Aaargh!” he cried in agony, his hands tiny against the solid shiny swelling mass around his head. “He is finished” her mother commented as I watched her daughter’s glutes flex so hard that the polished ebony balls pressed against each other in a crevice of striated rock. “Aarrhhh!” the young man screams loudly as the girl repeatedly lowers and raises his head sharply as she batters his trapped neck with the raw power visible in her huge bulging hams. She rolls slightly to one side, bending then straightening her calves in a series of jerks that has the young man whimpering, his eyes creased in agony. The power of those thick bulging thighs must be unbearable as is the humiliating knowledge that a smaller teenaged girl has beaten him.

Rolling him onto his side, I can see her powerful thighs as she holds him tight for a few seconds. “Aarrhhh!” with his neck trapped tight, she thrashes her legs back and forth as if she were doing the butterfly stroke, the muscles playing in her thighs. “Aargh! Aaargh!” his cries are frantic as she batters him in the violent jerks caused by her flailing legs. “Ngggh!” she grunts as she finishes the punishment with a particular hard jerk of her legs that causes the boy’s arms to flop on the ground. I thought he was knocked out as she rolls him so that she is again on top then snaps out her legs straight raised by swelling calves. “Aarggh! arrgh” he came out of his stupor as she adds to his pain with open handed punches to his chest and gut using bent fingers. “Harnah! Harnah!” she grunts as the sound of her blows against his hard stomach resonates like someone beating a drum. “Arrghh!” he cries followed by a quick pathetic sounding babble I didn’t understand. “He begs her for a quick merciful end but Naipanoi will deny him. He must learn his lesson and accept his rightful place in the tribe. Beneath her, as her loyal servant” Isina tells me.

As the girl continues to land more open-palmed strikes to his body while her muscular legs flex and bulge around his head, the boy’s cries get weaker and the movements of his flailing limbs get slower and become more jerky before stopping altogether. Finally the teenager releases the destroyed young man from her powerful thighs and stands. The girls and women in the crowd go wild, cheering and trilling loudly. The victorious girl places one foot on the unconscious form of her opponent and flexes an arm. To my utter shock, a mass of muscle grows under the shiny skin of her long slim arm and moves upwards towards her shoulder growing in size and getting rockier until there is an astonishingly huge sharply peaked bicep. Although short in length, the muscle looks massive on her thin arms, complete with stunning high rocky peaks.

“Arrr!” I gasp as Isina again grasps my throbbing manhood. “You should show your appreciation to my daughter” she says. Holding me by my erection, she calls over her victorious daughter and introduces me in her own language. Have you any idea how embarrassing it is to be introduced to a young teenaged girl who is almost naked with a hot looking fit and oiled body, while her mother is holding your erection through your trousers? Without showing any signs of emotion, the women exchanged the twitching bulge in my trousers like a relay team passing the baton. Being in the grasp of this fit strong girl who had just destroyed a young man made my dick throb even harder. Naipanoi said something to her mother, then releasing my hard-on, bent at the knees before me then grabbed my legs. In astonishment I found myself being lifted effortlessly by a teenaged girl and thrown over her shoulder lift a bag of rubbish. “In our culture, it is an honour to make guests feel welcome” I heard her mother say as I bounced along draped over the girl’s shoulder with only her hard shiny black buttocks to hold onto to steady myself. “As our new wrestling champion, my daughter claims the right to lie with you. Although I don’t think you will last five minutes before she breaks you” she added with a chuckle.

Isina was nearly right. The strong black teen carried me silently on her bare shoulders right across the village without anybody batting an eyelid. Being manhandled by such a young girl was incredibly exhilarating and I watched with growing lust, her well-defined back and incredibly sexy tight bare buttocks as she walked. We entered a hut against the rear of the cave and as she carried me across the interior, I noticed that the wall of the cave acted as the back of the building. Turning around, the girl threw me off her back onto some bedding that felt like straw covered with skins. As I lay on my back, I saw that the top of the hut was open with an arrangement of highly burnished metal reflecting the light of the large lanterns in the cavern into the room with a diffuse glow.

“I am the champion. You must worship me or you must challenge me” Naipanoi told me in a low-toned voice full of confidence. I looked at the upside down image of the girl as she stood behind my head. “You are soft. You would be no match against me. I would beat you easily ” she added. Ripping off the flap of skin that acted as her panties, the naked girl leapt on the bedding straddling my face, facing my feet. Her tight buttocks looked like balls of polished ebony as they poised over my face, so sensual that I wanted dive right in there. I got my wish. “Mmmmmm” I protested as my face was engulfed and my lips pressed against her bare pussy. “Mmmm mmm mm” her glutes snapped hard into the solid balls of stone that they resembled pinching my forehead. I felt her unbuckle my belt then pull down my trousers. “Moooorrrr” I moaned with expectation as she pulled down my pants and then lent forward, sliding her thighs around my head while keeping my lips firmly against her love nest. Oh yes, I started licking her brown sugar in anticipation of her thick lips surrounding my rod.

“Mmmmmm!” I cried in alarm as her thighs clamped down onto my skull with a brutal force. “Mnnnn” I had seen how large and muscular the legs of the young warrior girl could become but I never expected to experience first hand the intense crushing pressure that they could exert. “Mmmm!” her powerful legs squeezed with such raw strength that I thought my cheekbones and jaw were going to break at any moment. “Mmm!” I pulled in vain at the muscular flesh covered pillars that were trying to compact my head. “Mmmm” I felt thick slabs of thigh muscle hard and solid to the touch feeling absolute immense and unstoppable. “Mmmm!” clutching the tops of her legs, her hamstrings felt big and bulging as hard as steel. “Mmmmm!” the pressure was so strong, it really felt like she could pop my head. How on earth had that male warrior withstood the terrible pressure for as long as he did? Even trying to fight back before he succumbed to the power of her legs.

After what must was probably only a few seconds of intense skull crushing, relief washed over me as I felt my head released. I lay back with a throbbing head. My thoughts were disturbed as the naked strong girl sat astride my crotch. Lifting both arms, she slowed flexed them a few times to pump them. “Pretty strong yes?” she said. “Stronger than you. You want to fight or worship me?”. The sight of the small mass of muscle sliding under her skin upwards along each slender arm, gaining mass until it suddenly popped a tall peaked mountain re-awakened my hard-on which throbbed against her crotch. What her biceps lacked in length, they more than made up for in height. I sat up and ran my hands over them appreciatively, enjoying the hard thick mass and amazed at the small sharp peaks that stood out so prominently. Although by European standards, she wouldn’t have been considered pretty, she wasn’t unattractive and her fit naked athletic body was driving me wild. I tried to kiss her but her lean strong arms wrestled me back. “Only a woman tells a man when he may kiss her and only a woman decides when she puts him inside her” she told me before flexing again. This time I caressed then kissed her incredible peaked biceps, before doing the same with her pert breasts and washboard stomach. My dick was going crazy rubbing back and forth against her honey pot, which she seemed to enjoy.

Suddenly. the toned girl threw herself at me pinning my shoulders down while mounting me. “Huh huh huh huh” the girl was a sexual dynamo, riding me energetically with wild abandon, pumping back and forth along my shaft. “Oh oh huh huh” Her grunts of passion were so loud, I expected her mother to burst in at any moment. “Ohhhhhhhh” I didn’t stand a chance with her nubile fit body pumping me frantically and came quickly, triggering her own orgasm. However the naked hard-bodied black girl wasn’t satisfied and looking almost feral she quickly dismounted, leapt on my face, turned around and rolled me onto my side. I found myself with a close-up view of her hard compact buttocks with my nose and mouth pressed against her pussy. Her powerful thick thighs clamped around my cheeks and with a frightening surge of pressure, I knew I had no choice but to worship her. The grip of her thighs got tighter and tighter as I worked her, I had to screw up my eyes against the building pressure. “Arghh arhhh ohhhhh ohh!” she came so hard that she nearly knocked me out as the slabs of muscle around my head tightened so hard that I found myself screaming into her pussy.

As she released my pounding head, any expectation of a rest was rudely destroyed. Full of raging female teenaged hormones, the strong highly energetic girl wanted more, much more. Wrestling her naked body against me, she got me on my side with her strong thighs wrapped around my waist and her arms around my shoulders. “Orrrrr” her powerful legs squeezed so tight that my stomach immediately collapsed. I could only lie there struggling to breathe while my hands felt the raw surging power of the bulging muscle in her thighs. “Pretty strong legs yes?” Naipanoi asked. “Oh yes” I gasped feeling like I had been caught in a vice. How could such a young slender girl be so devastatingly strong? As I writhed in her legs, the girl began to kiss me feverishly on the lips. These soon turned into loosely aimed slobbering kisses and licks with mounting passion around the sensitive areas of my face, neck and lips. The feeling of utter helplessness in a young girl’s legs combined with the wet sensations from her mouth against my skin soon got me rock hard again and it wasn’t long before she was riding me again. Over and over again the energetic teen seemed insatiable as she forced me to worship her beautiful strong hard body using mouth and dick until I was too exhausted to do so any more. By the time she had finished with me, I could nothing more than lie back and close my eyes for a few seconds to recover.

Part 3: The Queen Fights
“So my daughter did not break you. She must be getting gentler” I opened my eyes in horror to find myself alone in the hut with Isina. I must have dozed off. “I hope you do as well tonight when you pay your debt to me”. Flushing with embarrassment, I scrabbled to put my pants and trousers back on. “Hah I’ve seen it. Why are you whites so ashamed of your bodies?” she said with a chuckle. I turned in the direction of her voice then gulped as I saw bare flesh and looked away quickly. “Does my body disgust you so? Look at me or I will take it as offence and kill you now” she admonished angrily.

I looked again and watched Isina’s naked form as she stood facing me putting on a long series of golden bracelets that stretched from below her shoulder past her elbow to her wrist. Although tall and lean, her body was firm and well toned. Her bare breasts were quite large and sprouted firmly on her chest with very large aureoles and large nipples. Even without the shiny black substance that her daughter had been oiled with, the older woman’s body was very sexy and stirred my loins. “So my body does not offend you?” she said without trace of a smile as she watched my appreciative stare. “No, not at all. It is very beautiful” I replied watching the way her firm stomach broke into a well-defined six-pack as she breathed. As she fixed an armband of beads to the top of her right arm, I noted that although taller than her daughter, she probably had the same amount of muscle except they were more spread out along her lanky body. The woman now put on what resembled a very short shawl made from several beaded strands, this went on over her head and sat around her shoulders almost resting of the top of her breasts A couple of beaded straps attached to the front circled around the underside of her firm bust. Her lithe naked form was beginning to revive my ardour. As she turned to pick up some more ornaments, I saw that her backside was as tight and compact as her daughter’s causing my groin to stiffen.

Desperate to find a distraction to take my mind off the hot hard body of this tribal queen, I began to examine the rocky wall at the rear of the hut where I spot cave drawings. “They look very old” I say. “Yes, there were done when our ancestors first settled in this place” Isina answered. I saw that she had now put on a short series of golden bracelets around her thin ankles and beaded strands just below each knee. One of the painted figures looks like a nun, with a white face, a black cowl and red eyes. A shiver ran down my spine as the image brought to the surface some memories of what some people had told me in the recent past about ‘red eyed freaks’. The tall lanky woman had now put on a skirt made of skin with one long piece at the back down to the top of her toned calves and a shorter piece dangling in front barely covering her modesty. These pieces of skin overlapped high on each hip and was held in place by an elaborately worked belt and yet more beads. “One of the ancients who visited our ancestors many centuries ago in our home lands and taught us the way of The Hand” she said noticing my interest in the painted figure. “She taught us the strength of women and led us to overthrow the men and seize control so that only women would shape our destiny”.

She turned to pick up what looked like a beaded plate larger than her head with a large hole in the centre. I continued looking at the cave art. Suddenly it was like an electric shock ran through my system. Isina turned to look at me strangely. “What is it Jim? Do you feel unwell? Has my daughter broken you after all?”.”That, that figure” I stammered, pointing to another drawing on the wall. Set into a shrine carved into the rock was a strangely drawn figure that was instantly familiar. “Anahita!” I cried, my finger pointing to what was unmistakably a dusky coloured naked female form with a multitude of arms and legs carrying a variety of weapons. Isina’s eyes widen and her usually expressionless face took on a look of open shock. “Anaheeta. What do you know of our Goddess?” she hissed and grabbed a long iron spear. Sensing my life could be in danger, I told her, as simply as I could, my encounters with the mysterious Sisterhood of Anahita and the strange series of events that had led me into this watery world beneath London. “You must be a distantly related branch of the same Sisterhood” I told her. She looked dubious but put down the spear. “Why hasn’t the tribe tried to leave this place? From what I’ve seen the exits are lightly guarded. You could easily overwhelm them” I said. “Where we would go? This is all we’ve ever known. We’ve never been in the world above. Even our ancient homelands would be strange to us now” she replied with a tinge of sadness. I helped her put on the circular halo neckpiece and an elaborate beaded headpiece. “Maybe I could put you in contact with the Sisterhood. I’m sure that with all their connections, they could help you” I told her. Isina never got the chance to reply.

A commotion breaks outside with shouting, the sound of running feet and many people talking excitedly. I followed Isina to see a crowd forming around the rear of the cavern. At first I couldn’t see what all the fuss was; until we got closer then I could see that a group of young warriors were emerging through a narrow gap that was barely visible in the rocky wall. It was then that I realised that this cavern was just part of a larger network. A female warrior spoke hurriedly to Isina who translated for me. “The Reivers tried to rustle our herds. They were repelled but they have caught the leader” she told me as the crowd parted to make way for their Queen. Just as I was wondering what any livestock down here could graze on, I saw the face of the captive.

It was the pale brown skinned thug from the train being pushed forward at spear point with his arms tied to another across his back. It was unmistakably the same man, although now looking bruised and battered with dirty jeans and a ripped T-shirt. What was his name? Nicholson that was it, Steve Nicholson. A tall topless female warrior behind him sharply kicks the back of his legs causing him to fall to his knees. “Kneel before the Queen light skin” she tells him. His big chubby face looked up towards her, glaring malevolently, although with his cross-eyes it is difficult to tell if he is staring at me or the woman by my side.

“Cunta!” he exclaims. “I didn’t recognise you with your clothes off” he sneers. “I must say you’ve got a nice pair of tits, argh!”. The blunt end of a spear drives against his cheek. “Don’t speak to the Queen like that” says the young male warrior who struck him. “You know the penalty for thieving our herds Reiver” Isina states firmly. “You have no rule over me. You’re just slaves. We’re just enter, arter…what is the word Templeforth calls us?” he asks. “Entrepreneurial” Isina says. “He just means that you are thieves just like his bankers” she adds. “Anyway that raid was nothing to do with me. I was following you by your stench Cunta” he snaps. The male warrior moves in to deliver another blow but Isina signals him to stop with her hand. “We have unfinished business, you and I” the cross-eyed thug sneers nastily. “Well you’ve found me. Dispose of him” she tells the warriors and turns away. “I claim the right of trial by combat” Nicholson shouts. Isina spins to face him. “With him” he adds glaring googly-eyed and baring his teeth menacingly in my direction. The tribal Queen shakes her head. “He is my guest until he has repaid the debt for saving him from you. The people of The Hand look after our guests. As my guest, it is my right to fight as his champion” she states firmly, turning and starting to walk away before Nicholson has the chance of further discussion.

I walked with the rest of the tribe as the group of warriors forced the foul man to follow in a semi-circle of bristling spears until we came to the sandy area where the wrestling match took place. There Isina stood close to the centre of the ring while the tribe lined up around the edges. Nicholson was pushed into the ring and his bonds cut. He looked around the tribe with a look of distain and wrinkling his nose as if there were a bad smell. I came in for a particular nasty stare. “I’ll deal with you after I’ve dealt with her. There’s a reward out for you with my name on” he gloated. He turned to face the tall elegant topless woman waiting patiently in the middle of the sand. “No monkey bars for you to climb on this time, Cunta” the horrible man snarled. I must admit that Isina looked magnificent, the conjoined light from the large lanterns on the cave wall made her skin shine highlighting her fine sinewy body and emphasising her pointed breasts and hard stomach. Nicholson turned and walked around the edges of the ring, his lips curling from his white teeth, looking cockily at the topless young women. “Look at you. Slaves cowering away in your little hiding place. Nice tits on some of these girls. I bet they’ve had a lot of dick” he said loudly. One man moved towards him to do him violence until he was restrained by others.

“You preen like a cockerel. Are you all talk? Can you fight? Let me see you fight” the tall noble looking woman stated. Nicholson glared her, his pale brown skin flushing a darker shade with anger. “You fucking slave whore! I’m your superior, you’re just a slave. I’m going to beat you up so bad that you will be begging to suck my dick” he yelled like a madman. “Then I’m going to take you from behind like an animal in front of all of your people and you’re going to tell me how much you like it”. This drew an angry response from the tribe, deeply offended at the insults being hurled at their Queen. Some of the men strode forward towards Nicholson. “Leave him!” Isina said aloud. The men hesitated, their angry eyes darting between their Queen and the offensive thug. “They are nothing but hollow words. If you think you are man enough to take me, then go ahead and fight, but I warn you that I will not be taken easily” she stated with confidence. “I beat you once and I will do so again, except this time your beating will be much worst” she added. Nicholson sniggered “You caught me off guard leaping about like a monkey, nigger whore”. This drew louder angry cries from the surrounding tribe that did not quieten until Isina motioned with her hands. “You try to offend me by calling me names but your skin is half white. That makes you half the insult you name me” she said calmly.

Nicholson eyes flew wide, his face flushed with anger. “Are you calling me a nigger? You slave bitch whore. Are you?” he yelled striding across the ring to confront the woman who towered above him in height. “I call you a preening cockerel. Can you fight or do you only talk foul words? Let me see you fight” she answered unflinching at the thug’s aggressive posturing.

“Warrgh!” the crazed thug yelled and rushed at the tall lithe woman. Without displaying any emotion on her face, she calmly knocked his arms away and folded a long leg in front of her, bent at the knee. “Orrrrrrorrrrrrrorrr!” an agonising drawn out moan left Nicholson’s mouth as he impaled himself onto her sharp bony knee. The crowd laughed at the semi-coloured man gasping with his gut folding over the knee of their Queen. Lowering her foot back to the floor, I was surprised when instead of using the opportunity to finish the fight quickly, the leggy woman began to stroll leisurely around the man staring at him with a look of distain mixed with a cool superiority that bordered on arrogance. Nicholson could nothing except bend over clutching his flabby stomach, his eyes screwed up and his mouth gaping open. The crowd certainly found this very funny.

The tall topless woman stopped behind the man, her lean hard body gleaming in the reflected light, a look of confidence on her face. Moving gracefully like a dancer, her beautiful black skinned body flowed into a fighting stance, presenting her side to the man’s back with her legs slightly askance and one arm slightly forward with her hand forming an open claw. The other hand was held by her waist with the fingers straight. “Ugh!” she grunted as she stepped forward and in a flash, her hand shot out like a spear from her hip striking Nicholson in the kidneys. “Oww!” the man howled, his torso straightening. “You cry like a child. Are you sure that you are a man?” she told him. He spun around to confront her, clutching his back.

“You filthy bitch, I’m going to break your fingers” he cried and launched himself at her. The tall lithe black woman seemed almost smug as the man rushed forwards. He was almost on her when suddenly she sprang from standing with her feet together to such an incredible height that I swore her feet were level with his chest. BAM! In the blink of an eye a long slender thigh rose horizontal and a foot blasted the man’s head. There was a cracking noise as the sole of her foot hammered the thug’s face, whipping his head backwards spraying blood from his nose and mouth. Landing deftly, with her bare breasts jiggling sensuously, Isina spun around, leaning her torso forward and firing another long leg. “Borrr!” Nicholson cried as her sole hammered his sternum. His face creased in an agonising winded expression and he instinctively started to lean forward. BAM! Isina jumped again raising a leg to snap out her foot again. The brute’s bloodied head snapped back again, his legs turning to rubber as he tried to stagger back and remain on his feet. He failed, to a chorus of high-pitched trills and mocking laughter, Nicholson collapsed to his knees on the sandy floor.

“Even a child could beat you. Shall I get one for you?” Isina taunted the angry snarling man as he shook his head. She looked at the crowd encouraging their amusement. That was a mistake. “Warrr!” while she was looking away, Nicholson propelled himself from the floor and was on her in a second, grabbing her around her slim waist. “Die bitch!” he screamed at her as his thick podgy arms crushed the lithe slender body in a bear hug. Forced onto her toes, Isina showed pain and discomfort as she struggled in the man’s grasp. “Ha ha ha” he laughed manically as he tried to crush her. Wincing in pain, a look of determination formed on her face. Remaining calm she raised an arm bent at the elbow with her hand flat. “Nnnngh!” she grunted as the hand flashed down chopping the man on the side of his neck. Nicholson’s head flew back in shock. Although visibly fazed, he still had hold of her although her feet were now flat on the sand. “Ouuuuuuuuu!” an agonising wail left his lips as the semi-naked woman blasted a bony knee hard and fast between his legs with an audible thud. Releasing his captive, Nicholson’s mouth dropped open, and his eyes scrunched up as he crouched over crippled in agony cupping his balls. There were loud sympathetic groans from the men in the watching crowd. Their normally expressionless faces showing disapproval at the Queen’s low blow.

With her opponent temporarily incapacitated, Isina again strolled around her opponent. A faint sheen of perspiration highlights her sensational lean lithe body, her pert breasts with large nipples fully erect, six-pack abs moving sinuously as she breathed slowly. “Oh have I stopped you from reproducing? Then that is good” she told the back of the agonised man. Her toned slim arms and legs flowed into another fighting stance. “Nnnngh!” she moves forward, her open palmed hand chopping the side of his neck. Nicholson’s torso straightened, a pained expression on his face. “Ngghh!” the other hand shot forward driving another spear hand into his kidneys. “Arghh!” he cried. His face contorted with rage, he spun to confront his attacker. “Ngghh!” she grunts as she turns her shoulder towards him and a vertical forearm smashes the flat of her fist against his face. “Arghh!” the thug cries clutching his ruined face.

With a look of smug satisfaction, the tall woman stepped back admiring her handiwork. “You are no match for a woman of The Tribe, Reiver. Get on your knees and beg for mercy” she told him. Glowing with perspiration, her trunk looked like it was carved out of ebony with deep clear vertical lines either side of her deeply ridged stomach bracketing square slabs of hard muscle that looked so hard that a man could break his fist upon. As she raised her arms in a fighting stance, I saw firm toned muscle appear and the clear definition of her shoulder caps. “Nargh!” she cried, leaning slightly back, the corded muscle in her thighs rippling as she blasts a powerful looking kick straight into his face. “Mmmmm” Nicholson cries as her foot hammers into the backs of his hands driving them hard against his own face.

What happened next stunned me. Looking arrogant, the tall willowy woman, with her bare breasts, hard stomach and long toned limbs stood in front of her male opponent with her feet together and legs straight. “Nnargh!” she cried as she sprang high into the air once more. Again it seemed that her feet reached the height of chest before she kicked out. Nicholson’s head snapped back slipping out of his blood stained hands. “Nnargh!” no sooner had she landed then she was springing once more into the air, blasting his face again. “Nnargh Nnargh Nnargh Nnargh!” again and again she jumped like a deadly jack-in-the-box with her breasts bouncing as the lean muscles in her legs powered her to incredible heights then blasted a devastating kick at the apex of her jump. BAM BAM BAM BAM Nicholson staggered back under the brutal barrage of kicks, his face covered in blood. The black skinned warrior woman followed him smoothly without breaking the rhythm of her high jumps and deadly kicks.

“Nnargh Nnargh Nnargh Nnargh!” BAM BAM BAM BAM the sound of her foot clubbing the man’s face was loud and unsettling as the relentless punishment continued. How could any man cope with this? Finally Nicholson’s legs failed him and he fell to hands and knees, breathing heavily, blood and drool falling onto the sand. “That is the deadly fighting art of The Tribe. Warriors spend many hours each day jumping as high as they can on the spot so they can soar above an opponent with ease and kick him in the face with the full force of their legs” Isina told him as she stood over him. “Now bow before me on your hands and knees. Beg for my forgiveness or I will finish you with the power of my legs” she added. “Nnnnever” Nicholson gasped. He tried to push himself up but a muscled calve swung around the back of his head catching it in the crook of her leg. Leaning forward, the leggy woman grabbed his head and pulled it up between her legs to the apex. The short flap of skin at the front of her skirt was pushed up showing that she wore nothing underneath. The guy’s neck was pressed against her bare crotch and locked in place with her right calve across the back of his neck and her foot resting against her left knee. “You may be between my legs but you will not enter me” she said raising laughter from the watching tribe.

“Kkkkkkk” Nicholson croaked as the tall black woman held him in a standing figure four head scissors. He was on his knees with his head forced back sharply to look upwards at his captor. “Kkkkk” he croaked again as his bloodied face turned a darker shade and his eyes screwed tight. His hands held on to her lanky thighs that now swelled as she raised herself onto one set of toes. Long thick slabs of thigh muscle pop into life under her skin. “From between a woman’s legs you were born. It is only fitting that between a woman’s legs you should die” Isina told the struggling man in a voice so warm and calm that it was chilling. Nicholson’s eyes are screwed tight, his mouth set in a silent scream at the power that must be surging around his neck. I also see her inner thighs bulging powerfully around his trapped neck. My dick goes rigid at the sight of such leggy power, amazed at the dramatic difference in size between her slender, almost skinny, looking legs when relaxed and the thick bulging muscle now trying to squeeze this man’s head of while standing on one foot.

It was a showy move and I wondered how Isina managed to keep her balance on one foot while crushing the man between her thighs. It must have helped having Nicholson on his knees before her to limit his range of movement. The bastard must have realised the same thing. Clinging onto her thighs, with his bloody face creased in agony, he somehow manages to work one leg from under himself to the side then used this for leverage to buck his body wilder than before. The one footed hold was unbalanced and Isina was forced to put both feet on the ground to keep her from toppling. In that instant, Nicholson slid his head away from her crotch, grabbed her lanky shafts from his position between her legs and bulldozed the mighty black female warrior sideways off her feet.

No sooner had her back hit the sand then the crazed man was upon her, scrambling up between her legs and on to her firm belly to try to pin her. I saw his hands accidentally land on her prominent breasts that stood proudly like bell cups and for a moment he hesitated, his hands lingering on the soft squishy flesh. Isina took advantage of his moment of distraction and grabbed his hands and pulled them away. “I am not such easy prey” she said as she grappled with his arms, the stringy muscles in her arms twitched and flexed as she resisted him. At the same time she bucked her body trying to throw off her attacker. Snarling the cross-eyed brute fought back trying to ride her like a bucking bronco. He even managed to kneel on her stomach that was so hard that it did not sag under his weight or cause her any apparent discomfort. A forceful buck from the woman threw the man forward but unfortunately for her, he landed on her shoulders and pinned her quickly. “Got you, bitch!” he cried then punched her right in the mouth. “Yah yah yah” he cried exuberantly as he punched her again and again. The trapped woman tried to jerk her head to one side or the other, but the bastard’s fists found their mark. The terrible sound of his big podgy fists pounding the woman’s face was loud as the watching tribe fell silent, visibly disturbed by this turn of events. I stepped forward to go to her aid but a hand on my arm made me stop. “No. This is her fight. Let her be” Naipanoi told me levelly.

Isina’s mask slipped and an expression of fury filled her face, her teeth bared as Nicholson drew back his fist for another blow. “Naghhh!” she cried aloud, her face straining in concentration as she bucked her body and kicked at the same time. A long leg rocketed from the sandy ground in a blurred arc like an inverted pendulum and clubbed her attacker on the back of his head as he tried to remain seated. WHUMP! The sound of the top of her foot striking the man’s head was audible. Nicholson’s head arched back, his mouth open in a silent cry of pain. Isina flopped herself back to the ground, almost unseating the brute and allowing her to free her hands. WHAM! Her palms blasted against his shoulders, her toned arms rippled as she pushed his torso backwards. Suddenly a long calve slid around his neck from behind like a noose and locked with the other calve that had appeared over his opposite shoulder. His head was caught in a tight reverse figure four. “Narghh!” she cried aloud as she forcibly slammed her legs to the ground pulling the man’s trapped head with them. The sudden move unseated him from her belly and Isina instantly sat up, threw back the bottom of Nicholson’s T-shirt and began driving a series of punches into the side of his stomach using her bent fingers. “Naghh naghh naghh” she cried, her face blazing with sheer hatred. “Ow ow ow” Nicholson howled as each blow drove her bent fingers hard against some pressure points on his belly that makes him roar with pain and left bright red patches of skin.

There was a perceptible pause while Isina studied her handiwork then “Nargh!” she shouted driving a blow that made the muscles in her arm ripple and buried her fingers deep in his gut. Nicholson arched his body and threw back his anguished face in a wide silent scream before flopping back to the sand. With a look of distaste, Isina roughly pushed him off her as if he were some kind of slug. Kneeling by the head of the chubby faced thug, Isina’s face was chilling as she raised a hand into the air. “Nargh!” she cried, her open palm slashing down in a viscous looking chop to the side of his neck. Nicholson’s body spasmed as if a thousand volts had been poured through it. It slumped back to the ground, twitching and barely moving.

There were high-pitched trills from the audience but Isina did not seem satisfied. Standing over the prone body looking down, I saw the stony expression steal back over her face as she composed herself. Folding her lanky legs at the knees, she crouched beside the man then reached forward with her hands. I couldn’t quite see what she did, but she seemed to press at points on his neck. His body jerked again and his head began to move. “You do not escape your punishment that easily, Reiver. Striking the Queen is a serious offence” she told him. Wrapping her slender arms around his neck, she got him into a tight headlock against her side. “Argh” Nicholson cried clutching at the sinewy arms as she rose, forcing him to his feet. “Nargh!” releasing the headlock she immediately faced him and chopped him again on the side of his neck. His body jerked. “Nargh!” her other hand darted out driving a spear hand into his sternum. The half-cast thug stood in a daze clutching his chest. He looked up as the tall woman stood before him.

“Say your prayers, Reiver” she said in her low timbered voice. Nicholson’s jaw went slack as the topless black skinned woman leapt from a standing start until her feet were level with his chin then kicked his face before lowering her foot to land on both feet before springing up again. “Nnargh Nnargh Nnargh Nnargh!” BAM BAM BAM BAM. The semi-naked woman radiated sheer sensual power as she jumped incredible heights into the air over and over again keeping her legs and body straight until her feet were level with his face then snapping his head back hard with a brutal kick before gracefully landing and launching again. Nicholson had no time to try to defend himself, his head blasted by powerful looking kicks. “Nnargh Nnargh Nnargh Nnargh!” BAM BAM BAM BAM. With a look of calm arrogance as she pummelled his face, smoothly following him as she drove him backwards across the sand, even her outthrust breasts bouncing up and down erotically with large erect nipples did not faze her. “Nnargh Nnargh Nnargh Nnargh!” BAM BAM BAM BAM. The onslaught continued, Nicholson looked punch drunk barely able to stand on his feet. Even though I could not see his face, the blood poured from his jaw that hung slack as though it were broken.

The tall lithe Queen came to a halt in front of the man, whose body swayed unsteadily. “NAAARRRRRGH!” with a tremendous yell that reverberated around the cavern, I saw the muscles in Isina’s long thigh bulge massively then relax as they powered her skywards with incredible force. I watched in stunned silence as the woman leapt so high that her feet were well above the height of his head. The stunned man could only watch in horror as the woman above him raised a knee. “NAAAAARRRRR!” her foot stomped down hard, blood and drool flying from his face. Her feet landed together gracefully as Nicholson’s body crashed backwards on the ground in a cloud of sand, his arms and legs flopping around him. Showing no sign of emotion, Isina stepped forward and placed on his immobile chest, her thick calve muscle bulging. Her face suddenly changed as she snapped her arms horizontal, bent at the elbows. “Yi yi yi yi yi” she yelled triumphantly her high-pitched yell being taken up by the rest of the tribe. The sight of the almost naked woman in a victory pose flexing over a badly defeated man had me aching hard in an instant. Short length biceps with rocky high peaks popped into existence on her slender arms. She was flexing so hard that a few of her metal armbands broke from the top of her arm, unable to contain the hard swelling mass. I gasped as a hand surrounded my erection through my trousers. “You should save it for later. You are going to need it if you are to survive my mother tonight” Naipanoi told me with a wicked smile on her face. “She is always ravenous after defeating a man. For this” she gave my dick a couple of squeezes then walked away laughing.
***
In 1905, King Edward VII of England convened a meeting with his nephews, the Czar of Russia and the Kaiser of Germany, and persuaded them to go to war. Behind this were a group of right-wing financiers and bankers who dominated the Freemasons, known by many names, they called themselves L’ordre de Maya. Royalty are always seemingly short of cash. In all likelihood, this was a plan for the financiers of the USA, England and France to take control of Europe, but it went wrong when England and France were dragged into the war.

Nevertheless, for the bankers, this was compensated by forcing Germany to pay reparations for the First World War until it collapsed financially in 1923. This setting the stage for Germany’s hatred of the Jews, who were able to buy up German assets and set themselves up as a privileged class. The war reparations went to pay the war debts of England and France, straight into the grabbing hands of the bankers.

“The role of the Masons in the Banking Community” Dr.C. Porter-Bowl

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