Before I met Zamile, I
hadn't spent a lot of time thinking about sex. I know it's different for men,
because that's all they ever seem to think about. But sex was just not that
intriguing to me. I'm blonde and attractive, with a well-built, athletic body.
As such, sex has always been available any time I felt in the mood.
Mostly, it hadn't been a
big deal. It's not like I didn't like sex, but it didn't drive me until I met
Zamile and had sex with her. I don't think it was even the fact it was a woman
that did it to me. I don't consider myself to be a lesbian. I'm not even really
that bisexual. The idea of sex with women is interesting, and not unattractive,
but I still prefer, all things being equal, sex with guys.
Zamile wasn't just a woman,
she was a tall, powerfully built, incredibly... assertive, confident and
commanding woman. She was as black as the ace of spades, an ambassador from
Zambia, and a Zulu Chief's daughter. She had kind of taken my breath away when
I'd been assigned as her Secret Service bodyguard.
Literally. She'd put her
hand around my throat and choked me just to show me she could do it if she
wanted. Mind you, I was tied up at the time. But her point was she could harm
me if she wanted, and didn't want to.
Zamile... manhandled me, if
you will. She used me roughly, forceful, and made my body burn. I didn't quite
understand why. She acted like she was a
princess and I was a peasant, and I ought to be worshiping her. Which was so
arrogant it should have made me laugh. Yet there was something about being
overpowered, even if I didn't really resist, that gave me an incredible wild
thrill!
She'd spanked me! That
should have outraged me, but instead, I'd let her masturbate me to a climax.
I'd spent some time wondering what the hell was wrong with me, but in the end
I'd just surrendered to the passion and pleasure she'd raised in my body.
But now she'd gone home.
I didn't miss her as a
person. I mean, it wasn't like we were girlfriends or anything. Princesses
didn't pal around with peasants anyway. But as a lover, she had been by far the
best I'd ever had. And I missed that a lot!
I masturbated every night
now, thinking about the things we'd done, the things she'd done to me, the
things Chaka had done to me...
Chaka, the Zulu warrior,
tall, powerfully built, and as black as Zamile. She had let him use me, made me
beg to be used, and his cock had pounded me so hard my brain had almost fallen
out! God, it had been impossibly intense! I had been sore for days, but it was
worth it!
The heat, the wild thrill
of it all, had been beyond anything else I'd ever experienced, and my life was
so boring now compared to that! I spent some time guarding various other minor
foreign dignitaries, and, briefly, a congressman with delusions of grandeur.
But it was sooo boring. I just stood around doing nothing all day!
I hadn't joined the secret
service last year to guard people. I'd joined it out of college, where I'd
taken accounting, to be trained in and
involved in financial crimes. I was beginning to suspect they'd stuck me in the
protective detail because they had a
shortage of female agents.
So here I was, an
accountant, with a gun, standing around doorways watching for bad people to
attack whoever I was assigned to. Mostly, that never happened. Which left me
doing pretty much, uhm, nothing, but standing around.
And reliving those wild
days in my mind, those incredible, breathless, shocking, wicked, wanton days
where I had done stuff which made my mind squirm, stuff I wouldn't tell anyone
about! Got, I had acted like such a slut! It had been... degrading, in a lot of
ways. But it had been sooo hot!
Which was why when I got
the email from Zamile, I felt as if the bottom had dropped out of my stomach. I
felt an instant thrum of excitement as I read the words. She wanted to talk, to
Skype. It had to be right after I got off work, because they were several hours
ahead of us in Africa.
A part of me felt amazed
they even had the technology, but then, that was probably my American
arrogance.
So two days later I found
myself looking at her in my PC monitor, doing my best to seem as calm and
casual as I could with those deep brown, arrogant eyes piercing me again.
“There is my little golden
haired girl,” she said in accented English.
She was likely just shy of her mid-thirties. I
was twenty two. To my mind, that really didn't make me a little girl,
especially since I was fairly tall for a woman, but I wasn't going to argue.
“Hi, Zamile,” I said.
“Me-gan,” she said,
stretching out my name. “Have you missed us?”
I wasn't sure if she meant
her and Chaka or if it was the 'royal we'.
“Uhm, kind of,” I said,
flushing.
“Have you considered what I
taught you about where your spirit wished to go?”
“I'm still not sure what
you meant,” I said.
She snorted. “And do you
still have the present I sent?”
I flushed a bit more, but
nodded.
“Show me.”
“Uhm.”
“Now,” she said, voice
hardening.
I hesitated, then got up
and went into my bedroom, opened the side table and pulled out the big black
dildo which had come in the mail. It had a note saying it was exactly the same
as Chaka's 'spear'. I doubted that, but it was certainly long and thick, and
very... realistically made.
I brought it back to the
front room and sat down, then, blushing, kind of waved it at the camera.
“Hold it up, little girl,”
she ordered.
She had this... voice thing
going for her. It was a very determined, very insistent voice you hardly
thought about disobeying.
So I held the dildo up in
my hand, and I remembered the last time we were together, with Chaka driving
himself into me while I licked her to orgasm. My pussy thrummed hotly and my
nipples tingled within the cups of my bra.
“You did not have time to
pleasure Chaka properly when you were with him,” she said. “When you come here,
you will have more opportunity.”