Chapter 7
Zach
Even though I
showered and spanked my monkey twice because I was so worked up over
what I had done to Moira, I refused to brush my teeth before we left
for dinner tonight because I wanted to keep her taste on my tongue.
She tasted better
than anything I could have imagined, and I ached with violent need to
fuck her after she came down from her orgasm.
But I promised her I
wouldn’t, and besides that… when I take her, and I know
for certain that I will, it’s going to be my way for the first
time. With her bent over before me and my hand to her neck, pinning
away any struggle that she might think to make.
Yes, I’ll only
take her when I have her absolute submission and not before.
Moira looks like a
scared rabbit when I emerge from my bedroom as we prepare to leave
for dinner. She won’t look me directly in the eye, and my chest
puffs up with pride. She is already on her way to submission, and she
doesn’t even know it.
I casually take in
what she’s wearing. After dinner, she said we are going to a
nightclub where there will be dancing, and I’m assuming she is
dressing the part.
She has on a teal
blue dress that is tight across her entire body, plumping up her
breasts that I now know for a fact have the most beautiful,
strawberry-tinged nipples I ever could have imagined. My tongue aches
to touch her there too, and I will in due time.
Her hair is in a
fiery mass hanging loose down her back, and she has something on her
lips that makes them look shiny. As shiny as her pussy was when I
descended on her this afternoon.
I’m finding I
like my new vocabulary. Cock, pussy, and fuck. My three new favorite
English words.
I want to shove
my cock in her pussy and fuck her hard.
Yes, I’m
mastering this American slang well.
“You look
beautiful,” I tell her, and her eyes rise to me in surprise.
I’ve never said those words to another woman in my life. Never
wanted to until this moment.
“Thank you,”
she says quietly as she picks up her purse and searches inside for
her keys. “Are you ready?”
“I am,”
I tell her, following her out the door to her car.
Moira takes me to a
small Italian restaurant not far from her house. She asks me if I had
spaghetti as a child, and a distinct memory assaults me. I remember
slurping noodles and the garlicky, tomato sauce.
After we give our
choices from the menu to the waiter, Moira is uncharacteristically
silent, and I’m guessing she’s suffering from regret over
what she let me do to her. I don’t want her to drift away from
the connection I’ve established though, because I have more
stuff planned for her, so I try to get her back on track by giving in
to her need to teach me about the modern culture.
“I don’t
remember much about what my parents did outside of their missionary
work, but I seem to remember my mom was home with me all the time,
while my dad worked. I’m thinking she didn’t work outside
the home.”
Moira takes a sip of
her water and nods. “Randall told me your mom was a
stay-at-home mother. Her job was to take care of you.”
“Much like the
women of Caraica,” I muse. “Their job is to take care of
the children, our homes, and the men.”
“Yes, but the
difference is, here in America, your mom could have easily worked if
she wanted to. She had opportunity to do whatever she wanted.”
“You are a
good example of a modern woman,” I tell her thoughtfully. “You
hold a position of prestige and you teach others. You earn money for
your work, and that enables you to bring home food for your table.
But that is akin to a Caraican woman going out on the hunt with the
men, and that’s still a hard concept for me to understand.”
Finally, Moira
seemed to ease into the conversation with a light laugh. “I
could spend weeks teaching you all about the struggles of women in
our society to strive for the same equal rights as men. We still
don’t have them… not completely. It’s always still
a fight.”
I nod thoughtfully.
“Maybe my tribe’s way has some merit. There’s
simplicity in it, don’t you think? Everyone has a role, and no
one seeks more. There are no expectations to fail, no aspirations to
crush. Everyone works cohesively for the common good of the tribe.”
“It’s a
very good way to live,” Moria agrees with a smile. “Now
tell me, after having been away for a few weeks, tell me what you
miss most about your home.”
Closing my eyes, I
think back to the Amazon. “I miss many things. The vibrancy of
color, the perfume of flowers that bloom year round, the excitement
of the hunt, and the heavy moisture in the air that soothed my
lungs.” I pause briefly, giving her a sinful smile. “I
miss Tukaba’s body and being able to pound away within her
whenever I wanted.”
Moira’s lips
turn downward at that, but no sense in lying. I haven’t had sex
in over two weeks, and I most definitely miss Tukaba’s complete
willingness to submit to me whenever I wanted.
I continue. “But
most of all, I miss Paraila. I’d give up every bit of those
things I just told you I missed, if I could be back at his side
again. He was my father… my teacher… my protector for
so long, because the tribe didn’t accept me at first. He saved
my life on more than one occasion, and he made me the man I am today.
Yes, I miss Paraila the most.”
Moira’s eyes
turn sad, and it’s with shame that she looks at me. “I’m
sorry for taking you away, Zach. I know it’s been hard.”
I stare at her a
moment, absorbing the truth in her tone. I sense the regret over her
actions, and it causes my anger toward her for her role in this to
lessen marginally. Of course, some of that anger seeped away too when
I had my mouth between her legs this afternoon. Something like that
will tend to put a man in a forgiving mood.
Our meals arrive and
the spaghetti is just as delicious as I remembered it, and I’m
thankful to myself that I’ve broken down and started using
utensils. It would have been an absolute mess trying to eat the pasta
with my fingers. Moira lets me try a little bit of her lasagna, and I
about groan in ecstasy when I taste it. I’m definitely going to
have that the next time we eat out at an Italian restaurant.
The conversation
stays light the rest of our dinner, and she tells me more about her
friends that we are meeting tonight. Lexi is a nurse at the local
hospital, and Kelly is also a professor at Northwestern, except she
teaches English Literature. She assured me that they were both very
nice and were looking forward to meeting me, which wasn’t
needed to ease some perceived anxiety on my part. I was very much
looking forward to going out tonight to this “nightclub”
that Moira told me about. She said people go there to have fun and to
drink and dance, but she solemnly warned me that we wouldn’t be
drinking. I had never had alcohol in my life, and she said that she
wasn’t about to have me try it out of a controlled
circumstance.
I don’t really
have any concept of what alcohol is or what it does, but if it was
like the powerful hallucinogenic plants our tribe’s shaman used
to snort up his nose that would make him see giant, flying mosquitos
the size of a longhouse, then I wasn’t interested in trying it
anyway. I didn’t like the concept of losing control.
After dinner, Moira
drives over to the nightclub and it seems the awkwardness at the
beginning of the evening has melted away, and after Moira’s
heartfelt apology to me not long ago, I feel something of a
connection with her now. As if, maybe I might even enjoy her company,
which is not something I had planned on.
I know I certainly
enjoy looking at her, and I certainly enjoyed fucking her with my
mouth today, and I know without a doubt my cock will love every inch
of her pussy, but I think I’m actually starting to enjoy the
things we talk about.
When we arrive at
the club, I’m assaulted by the noise and light. Loud music
blares, making a thumping sensation in the middle of my chest. The
inside of the building she leads me into is dark, but there are
streams of light everywhere, crisscrossing the open space,
periodically hitting me in the eye and inducing near blindness. I am
immediately unsure as to why coming here is so much fun.
Throngs of people
crowd in one area of the building, moving and gyrating their bodies.
The concept of dancing isn’t unfamiliar to me, as our tribe had
many dances and songs we would perform. We would often celebrate a
successful hunt or the birth of a child. Even a girl receiving her
menses and becoming a woman was cause for celebration. Of course, she
was first sequestered away behind a palm-frond screen where she
remained the entire time she bled. When she emerged, the women would
dress her in a headband of black feathers, signifying her transition
and her availability for marriage. There was always singing and
dancing after that to celebrate her becoming a woman.
Moira and I talked
about that tonight. That in the Caraican tribe, a woman was eligible
for marriage as soon as she menstruated. Our tribe practiced
polygamy, which was a term Moira introduced me to when I told her
that the men of the tribe often had more than one wife. She had told
me that this practice was illegal in the United States and it was
also illegal for an adult to have sex with a woman until she reached
the age of consent at eighteen.
I understood this,
because although a young woman in our tribe could be married far
younger than that, she drank a tea ground up from the bark of the
yarrasa tree, which prevented pregnancy until she was older.
Apparently, that was something our societies had in common…
ingesting something that could prevent a woman from getting pregnant.
I asked Moira if she
took such a remedy, and she admitted she did. She called it The Pill,
and then proceeded to describe to me other forms of birth control
that are available here. It was an interesting conversation, and I