Looking down from his high perch, the warlord watched the practice below. His eyes strayed to his lovely daughter Loua, her slim body glistening with sweat from her activity. Her male partner was withering under her onslaught, her practise sword getting through his defence again and again. He watched her technique as only a proud father could, His eyes roamed over her strong but supple legs and her naked, bouncing bust. His mind went back to last night when he had buried his stiff pole deep inside her lithe body; his seed to bring forth new life.
"Lord," a cry from the beach side of the practice ground.
"A large boat comes," the voice said.
"Prepare for action," the warlord bellowed, "You," he point at Loua, "run to the village and sound the alarm.
Her head bobbed acknowledging the command and left at the run.
"Tell me," he commanded the scout who had at last joined him on the hill.
"A very large boat Lord," he said, "with many sails, bigger than I could have imagined, as big as ten houses."
The warlord picked up his bow and sword.
"Let's go and look," he said.
It was true, and as they watched a small craft was lowered over the side. Inside were a dozen strangely dressed men carrying long thin swords and something else, a weapon, he could not be sure. As they rowed closer he could see they were carrying hollow metal tubes, their purpose unclear.
"Bring up the Blood troops," he commanded.
These troop were especially selected from the older, blooded warriors of the tribe whose deaths would not be missed; their skills already past on to their offspring. Selection to this elite corps was the greatest of honour.
"Engage and destroy," the warlord commanded.
"Yes Lord," his head bobbed.
The twenty strong troop ran to meet the small boat with bows and swords ready. From the bow of the small boat a man stood up and pointed his hollow stick. Thunder and lightning erupted from the stick and a man fell. What magic is this, the warlord thought, another roar and a further man fell.
"Attack," he yelled, encouraging to his elite troops, a flight of arrows left the beach and found their marks within the boat.
Two men reared up and fell overboard. So they can be killed, good. More thunder, more men fell, then disaster, a huge roll of thunder came from the large ship, death visited them on the beach and many fell.
"Retreat and regroup at the village," he bellowed.
"Lord, they have brought the thunder down from the sky," a senior warrior cried.
"Yes, send the young warriors into the hills to watch and learn," he shouted, "the rest of us will engage them."
"Yes Lord," he said.
The warlord watch with a sad heart as his precious Loua disappeared into the brush. He now stepped forward to fight and die with the rest of his fighting tribe.
Two hundred and seventy seven years later, a new large boat landed at the wooden pier.
"So this is Bulli then," I said surveying the small South Sea Island.
"Yes doesn't seem much now," his young and beautiful travelling companion Jennifer said, "but three hundred years ago, this small island ruled the seas around here for hundreds miles in every direction."
"How come?" I enquired.
"The natives here were very warlike, a bit like the Spartans of ancient Greece. Their war canoes controlled all the nearby islands and extracted payment from all the other tribes," she explained.
"What happened to them?" I asked.
"The Portuguese arrived in 1723 and killed most of them in a vicious battle and the rest died from disease," she said, "within five years of the Portuguese landing, they were gone."
"And now oil has been found here," I said mostly to myself, the new 21st century disease.
We disembarked and booked into the only hotel in the small town. I lay on my bed thinking about Miss Jennifer Townsend, as the only two white people travelling we were pushed together somewhat, not that I minded for she was quite beautiful. Her father worked for the Oil Company here and she had come to visit him during her college holidays. Me this was as far as my money took me, now I must find a job so I could eat and save for my next leg of my around the world adventure. I usually sold a story or two to the newspaper back home or did any job that paid. Miss Jennifer of course seemed to have plenty of money so I planned to stick close to her and see if I could liberate some from her. Not very gentlemanly I know, but one must eat, I had other thoughts about her too that didn't involve money, most of them were with her on her back with her legs open. Just thinking about her made my cock hard, and then there was a knock on my door.
"Hi," she said somewhat shyly, "could you do me a favour and escort me to the Compound."
"Sure Jen," I said, "I'll get my jacket."
Not that it was cold, quite the opposite in fact, but all I owned was in that jacket and I was not going to leave it in some poxy hotel room. She introduced me to her father, a very large man in his late thirties with a vice like handshake.
"Now I don't want you wandering about on your own, ok," he said to his daughter.
"Oh dad, I'm a big girl now," she pouted.
"That's what I'm afraid of, this place can get a bit rough," he said.
"Anyway Don here will look after me," she said.
I was subjected to a piecing stare from this large man.
"Well ok, perhaps Don and I can have a quiet word," he said to his only daughter.
"Ok son, take this," he said handing over a thick wad of local cash, "and a bit of advice, don't go take her to the old Indian quarter after dark, there are plenty of good bars in the main part of town, ok."
"Sure Sir," I said, glad to have some cash in my pocket.
He than patted me on the back and escorted me out to where his daughter stood waiting.
"What did he say?" she asked.
"Oh he was just telling me where the best bars are," I replied.
"Oh yeah right," she said scornfully.
"True honest," I said.
"Well in that case we can go to one now, I could do with a drink," she laughed.
The local hooch was firewater but cheap and it only took a few glasses before both of us were feeling its effects. Back at our hotel I paid for my room, while I still had some money left and then we had a couple more drinks at the bar. Afterwards I escorted her to her room.
"Come in for a night cap?" she asked more than a little drunkenly.
"Sure," I said.
The nightcap consisted of another glass of firewater, after which we both collapsed drunkenly onto her bed. Through her thin dress, her small but firm tits felt good in my hand. My passion rose as moved my hand under her short skirt and up to her knickers. I could tell she wasn't really with it, but my ardour was up and I needed to spurt with or without her help. I stripped her out of her dress and underwear until she was beautifully naked, but by now she had passed out and had started to snore.
"Shit," I spat out loud, but I was not going to be denied my pleasure.
I spread her legs wide and for some time I stared down at her beautiful naked body obscenely displayed for my pleasure. I moved my hands over her slightly damp sweaty skin, squeezing and fondling every bump and hollow until at last I could wait no longer. Getting between her legs I pushed my hard cock into her pussy, using liberal amounts of spit to lubricate the way. I looked down at her while I humped her limp body, my what a lovely sight and now I was ready to come. I pulled out and with a few pumps of my hand I spattered my sperm all over her flat stomach. It wasn't the most satisfying fuck I'd ever had but now looking down at her spunk splattered naked body it didn't matter. I cleaned her up and put her to bed then departed to my own room.
The next morning I thought I would take a walk down to the old town and see if I could find a story there. The local people were short but beautiful with a light olive skin; even the men were beautiful. I stopped and went into a clean looking bar and order a drink; the women behind the bar was especial beautiful.
"Hi, can you tell me some stories about your beautiful island?" I asked after she had filled my glass with the local firewater.
"You must talk to Henry," she said with a slight accent, "he knows everything."
"Thank you," I said, "and where can I find him?"
"If you sit there long enough, he'll find you," she smiled at me and my trousers suddenly became very tight.
Henry was a very old man who liked to drink and would talk for hours for the price of a bottle.
"What happened to the local natives after the Portuguese came?"
"The Portuguese killed most of the warriors with their guns, they had never seen guns before," he said, "but they didn't run in fear, instead they charged and killed most of the solders who had already landed. After that the ship opened fire with its cannon loaded with grapeshot, killing hundreds on the beach. The survivors were later rounded up and killed."
"What happened then?" I asked, taking notes.
"The usual," he said with a rile smile, "the men that didn't escape into the hills, were killed, and the women were raped, most later died from the pox but some survived to become us."
"Are there no true bloods left then?" I said.
"No not any more, the ones that had fled, came down from the hills over the next few years or so," he said, "and intermarried with those who had arrived."
"It's very sad," I said, "the once proud people gone for ever."
"No not really," he said with a twinkle in his eye, "our culture lives on, our people, men and woman both are true fighters, expert with the bow, the spear and sword. When the Japanese landed here in forty two, we killed them all and they never came back."
"Wow, that would make a good story," I said. "How did you overcome the Japanese with just bows and arrows?"
"Easy," he said with a smile, "they didn't know we were a warrior race but they soon found out. At first you could walk up to one of the solders and stick your blade into him."
"But," I started to say when he carried on.