Episode 1 Larra's African Adventure - Chapter 7 The Deception

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  1. L'Espion Active Member Author

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    The Adventures of Larra Court

    Episode 1
    Larra’s African Adventure

    Chapter 7 The Deception

    The inside of the hut darkened as a massive form thrust itself through the doorway. Before her stood the giant warrior who had first confronted Larra at the stone phallus. He looked at Larra and then nodded to an old woman who had come into the hut behind him. She approached Larra and knelt before the lovely young woman. Larra stared at her with some apprehension as the old woman reached toward her genitals. Larra gasped and tried to move away, but she was caught and held by the other native woman. She was forced to allow the ancient female to probe her genital area. Larra started as she felt a finger inserted into her vagina. She blushed bright red at this latest indignity, rising slightly from her kneeling position. After a few seconds the old woman withdrew her finger and nodded to the massive warrior. She then left the hut.

    The warrior grunted in seeming approval. He turned to Larra and in halting Swahili he spoke. “Tomorrow, you be taken to the place of sacrifice. We offer you to the gods. Gods be pleased to receive virgin sacrifice.”

    Larra’s heart left into her throat. The old woman had inspected her to determine her virginity. And she had been found satisfactory. Somewhat in shock, she wondered what her fate would have been if she had not been a virgin. Would she have been treated like Nancy and her head placed on a pole? Or maybe that was the way she was to be treated anyway.

    She forced herself to remain calm. In a steady voice she inquired: “What is to be done with me?”

    “Tomorrow we take you to sacred place.” The warrior motioned with his hands, making the unmistakable shape of a phallus. “There you be opened to the gods so that your spirit may please them.” Here the warrior drew his thumb along his abdomen.

    Larra blanched. She was to be disemboweled. It would be a slow, cruel, painful death. She composed herself. “I am not of your people,” she argued. “How can you treat a visitor to your lands so badly? Have your people no honour?”

    The warrior smiled sadistically. “You enter our lands uninvited. You defile our sacred ground. You beautiful white woman make special sacrifice. Pleasing to gods.”

    With that the giant stooped and left through the low entrance of the hut. Upon his departure the young black woman continued her ministrations. She resumed washing Larra’s body, and upon finishing, rebraided Larra’s luxuriant hair. She then picked up an embroidered loincloth from where it lay folded on the floor and placed it about Larra’s hips. Strangely, this partial covering of her nakedness made her feel much more comfortable. Larra tried to stand, but the servant girl pushed her back down.

    “I need to walk.” Larra stated in Swahili.

    The girl shook her head. It was obvious that she did not understand. As Larra once again tried to stand the girl placed a rope about Larra’s neck and fastened it to the center pole of the hut. Now she could not stand. Resignedly, Larra tried to find a comfortable sitting position.

    The day slowly moved on. Larra rested, remaining ever vigilant, watching for the slightest chance to escape, but tied and chained as she was no chance came. More and more her soul became filled with a feeling of hopelessness. Eventually the day passed and night came. All the time she was attended by the servant girl. She was kept cool by being wiped down with a wet cloth and was fed at regular intervals. The rest and care were restoring her body, but at the same time the restraints of her bonds and the awkward position of her arms and torso resulted in severe chest pains and cramps in her arms.

    Finally night came and Larra found herself falling into a fitful sleep filled with frightful dreams of torture and suffering. In the middle of the night she awoke in a state of alarm. The servant girl had left the hut when night had fallen. But Larra could now detect the presence of someone else in the hut. She could clearly hear the sound of male breathing very close to her. Suddenly, she felt a large hand cover her mouth and a rasping voice whispered in her ear.

    “Missy, make no noise! No noise!”

    Larra’s bodied tensed, but she lay quiet. Not that she had much choice!

    “Me help. You come.”

    The hand was removed from her mouth and Larra was aware that the rope fastening her to the center post in the hut had been untied. She felt herself being pulled toward the back of the hut.

    “Release my arms,” she whispered.

    Instantly the man’s hand was back over her mouth.

    “No noise!” There was panic in the man’s low whisper. “Get killed!”

    Larra kept quiet and allowed the man to pull her toward the back of the hut. It would be much easier for her to move with her arms free, and she had been able to determine that there were no locks on her chains, just two simple pins holding the chains to the amulets. It should have been the work of only a few seconds to remove them. Perhaps in the dark her rescuer could not see well enough to know how easy it was to release her. Or perhaps, he had some other motive. But she had no real choice. On the morrow she faced certain death, and an exceedingly painful and brutal death at that. What did she have to lose?

    By now they were at the back of the hut. The black warrior was scraping at the back wall with the point of his spear. It seemed to Larra that he was making an inordinate amount of noise, but the village remained quiet. No one seemed to hear. In a couple of minutes he was through the back of the hut. Reaching toward Larra in the dark, he found her arm and pulled her through the hole. Outside, the village was dark and deserted except for a few native dogs that slunk into the shadows as Larra and her escort moved furtively past the silent huts. Evidently the curs did not regard her as an enemy as long as the black warrior was with her. Reaching the village gate, the warrior carefully pulled aside the thorn bush that was blocking it. A few seconds later they were both out into the African night.

    A short distance from the village Larra halted, panting from exertion. She could not make any time with her arms so cruelly pulled behind her. “My arms, please…” she gasped.

    The warrior made no reply but instead seized the short rope dangling from the leather collar around her neck, and dragged her staggering up the trail behind him. Larra began to have grave apprehensions; this seemed less and less like a rescue and more and more like an abduction. But she knew that raising an alarm meant certain death. Trusting her “rescuer” seemed like a poor choice, but the alternative was probably far worse.

    But why would he not release her arms? The pain in her shoulders, arms, and chest was now excruciating. Only her martial training and iron determination kept her going. She stumbled frequently and had to be pulled back to her feet. Soon her knees were bloodied and bruised. Her bosom heaved as her labored breathing attempted to draw in enough oxygen to keep her from fainting. Fortunately, the pace of the black man was rather slow, so she was able to keep up. She dimly wondered at this, but was in such intense agony that she was unable to think clearly.

    Larra and the black man staggered into a small clearing in the center of which was a large flat stone about three feet high, eight feet long, and three feet wide. Fastened in the top of the stone were a pair of heavy iron rings. It reminded Larra of a large headstone or perhaps, she thought with a shiver, a sacrificial altar. The light of the almost full moon flooded into the open space, clearly illuminating the stone and its surroundings.

    Larra now recognized her black escort. It was the man whose knee she had injured in the rainforest battle where she had been captured. The man pulled her toward the stone. Dazed, Larra now realized what she should have known all along, that she was no better off with her “rescuer” than she had been as a prisoner in the hut.

    As the powerful warrior dragged her toward the stone Larra noticed that he had a cloth bandage wound about his knee and that he was clearly limping. Why had she not noticed these details before? She realized that she had been so desperate to escape, and so tortured by the pain of her bonds that she had overlooked the obvious. Now her head was remarkably clear. She reasoned that the black man did not intend to kill her right away. If he had wanted that he could have killed her anywhere along the trail. He had brought her here for another reason, and Larra had a strong suspicion as to what that reason was. She broke out into a cold sweat as she contemplated what fate might await her.

    Now Larra and the warrior were at the stone. Roughly the black man seized her shoulders and pushed her on to the large flat surface of the huge boulder. She gasped in pain at the increased pressure on her bonds. The warrior yanked her into a kneeling position and pushed his face close to hers.

    “White witch,” he rasped. “White witch put spell on me. Hurt leg. Must punish White witch. I take you. Destroy magic.”

    Larra called on all her training. She was filled with a deadly fear and close to panic. But panic would be fatal. In her weakened condition she would probably only have one chance. She composed herself and waited for an opening.

    Suddenly the man’s huge hands were on her high, perfect breasts squeezing hard on the firm yet tender flesh. Larra cried out and her abuser gave a grunt of satisfaction. Then reaching down he tore away her loincloth and pushed her back onto the stone. Reaching down his hand cupped her pubic mound. Larra shuddered. She had never been touched there before! Pushing her legs apart with his knees, the warrior positioned himself between her thighs. Larra readied herself for the coming ordeal. She had to maintain control. It was her only chance of escape. Then the warrior did something strange. Instead of heaving himself upon her as Larra had expected, the warrior stood up, straddling her prone body. Slowly and deliberately he removed his own loincloth revealing a fully erect penis of massive proportions. He was deliberately taunting her, hoping to initiate a startled response in the young virgin. A cruel smile played on his lips. Larra had not seen many naked men and those she had seen did not have dimensions like this one. For a few seconds she could only gaze in awe and horror at the majestic male before her and then her trained reflexes took over. With all that remained of her failing strength Larra’s body uncoiled from the stone like the strike of a cobra. Resting on her elbows she drove her long powerful legs upward. Her arched toes caught the warrior’s testicles and slammed them flat against his abdomen crushing them completely. With a hideous scream that Larra was sure could be heard all the way to Kampala the huge black warrior doubled over, and fell off the stone, clutching his shattered testicles. Calling on her remaining strength Larra forced herself to her feet and leaped toward the shrieking, writhing warrior. He was in too much pain to avoid her and her well-trained feet struck once, twice, three times at the warrior’s exposed throat. His larynx crushed, the warrior’s screams turned to gurgles as he slowly died.

    Larra collapsed to her knees, completely drained by the intense exertion. For a few minutes she knelt before her victim, breathing deeply, trying to collect herself. Then she struggled to her feet. Bright moonlight still flooded the open glade and Larra was able to locate the warrior’s spear. Kneeling beside it she managed to pick it up and carry it over to the stone slab. With a little bit off effort she was able to push the shaft of the spear through one of the heavy iron rings in the top of the stone. She then retrieved her loincloth from where it had been flung. The skimpy little garment was really nothing better than two strips of cloth connected by a strip of leather. Picking it up in her strong white teeth she draped it across the shaft of the spear. Climbing up on the stone slab she maneuvered her way across the stone. Grabbing the rawhide strap of her loincloth she managed to tie it to the shaft of the spear. With a little more effort she managed to secure the shaft to the other iron ring.

    Now the spear was fastened to the rings on the stone slab with its point projecting beyond the edge of the slab. Crouching just under the spear point Larra attempted to push the pin from her shackles. This proved quite difficult to execute as Larra was forced to look over her shoulder while maneuvering from a crouched position. Again and again she tried to push the pin from the armlet, and she failed just as many times. The pin seemed to fit into the shackle quite tightly. By now Larra had been struggling with her shackles for over an hour. In her crouched position, with her arms pulled brutally behind her, she was once again on the edge of complete physical collapse. Even in the cool night air, her body was dripping with sweat. It ran down her back in streams. Larra realized that if she did not succeed soon, she would be too weak to continue. And then, with a clink, the pin moved! Suddenly Larra felt her arms swing free as the chain holding the armlet released. Weeping with relief, she collapsed on the ground.

    For a few minutes Larra just lay there, gasping. Then pulling herself together, she got to her feet. She was free! But now she had to complete her escape. It would be morning soon and her absence from the village would be discovered. In only a few hours she could expect dozens of warriors to be scouring the forest for her.

    Quickly she gathered up her few possessions. She refastened the loincloth abut her waist and then used the warrior’s spear to cut the dead warrior’s much larger loincloth into four strips, each about eighteen inches long and six inches wide. By tying the strips to one another she was able to fashion a crude halter-top by crisscrossing the cloth over her breasts and tying it behind her neck.

    “That’s better,” She thought, feeling much more comfortable, although her breasts were still sore from the “massage” they had received from the dead warrior.

    She hefted the spear. It’s seven-foot length made it seem quite unwieldy. Using a knife that the warrior had carried around his waist she notched the spear shaft about four feet from the butt end. Then, using the iron ring in the stone slab she was able to break off the last four feet of the shaft. The much shorter weapon suited her much better.

    She then cut the remainder of the spear shaft in half and used the piece of chain she had been shackled with to connect each piece to the other by using a strip of leather from the loincloth to bind each end of the chain to the stick. Now she had a crude, but she hoped effective nunchuka. At least it would be a weapon that the blacks were unfamiliar with.

    Now she was ready, but which way to proceed? She really had very little idea of where she was. Fleeing farther into the rainforest might throw the blacks off her trail, but it would also get her more lost. She wanted to head back in the direction of Kampala, and that direction, she felt, was probably downhill. She knew taking that route would be dangerous, because it would take her back toward the warrior village, but she decided to take the chance. Wandering around in the rainforest looking for an alternative route would only lead to her succumbing to some tropical disease or poisonous insect or snake bite. Perhaps she could work her way past the village without being seen. The blacks would not expect her to go that way and it might throw them off her trail. Her mind made up Larra set out.
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