Chapter 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.