Note ;

This is not just a sex story, it is more a novella, that contains expressed sex, so be advised, if you don't want a long storey, only sex, then please don't read.

All references to the Wodaabe tribe are absolutely accurate.

Excuse any inaccuracies with gaze to time and aloofness, I have sailed on many seas but I am not a navigator,

... ... ....

It seemed to be forever that we had been searching for the slavers. In fact, for five calendar week now, we had been cruising the southerly islands of the Caribbean.

We had sighted them once, two ships close to the visible horizon, but near enough for the best top man to be capable to puddle out their sail rig, we knew it was them.

Their class had suggested that they were making for Guiana in South America, they were trying to run the encirclement of the royal Navy, that had been set up after most European countries had outlawed slavery

But then, the hurricane had struck, it was one of the high-risk in living memory, and it had come upon us with so little warning, no time at all to make for a safety harbor, especially if you were too far from country. Any ships caught at sea were in dangerous trouble, especially anything small, the only secure home was one of the well-sheltered harbours.

We were cheeseparing to land but with no worthy harbour close by, we had no choice but to run before the wind. This in itself has not been easy, we had only just managed to discharge the tip of one island, in constant danger of the nothingness driving us ashore, where we would bear foundered on the savage rocks we could see all too clearly, just a C G off our beam.

The slavers had faced exactly the Saame predicament, but their class had allowed them to pass to the eastward of the islands, where-as, we had been forced to the west.

For three days we rode the storm, canvas ripped away, spars broken like match-sticks, mountainous seas battering the ship. most of the crew had never before been so scared, even some of the honest-to-god hands, who had experienced the Bay of Biscay at its sorry, had looked apprehensive.

I couldn't comprehend how we had not lost a mast.

By the fourth dimension it had started to ease, we barely had a canvas left intact. A topsy-turvydom of hanging ropes and railings smashed. Even two torpedo had broken adrift below, smashing everything in their path, before the tribal chief gunner and his gun crews somehow managed to batten them safely once more.

The sailmaker and his team were now working like trojans, stitching and patching whatever was available, in an attempt to break us sufficient sail so we could realise headway, to once more set a course.

The First Ilex paraguariensis reported to the captain, that although the ship had sprung at to the lowest degree two planks below the waterline, for the moment the pump were coping well enough at keeping the piss in the bilge water at a safe storey. But, he pointed out we could only manage a few daytime of pumping before we ran out of men fit enough to man the pump. Quite a number were carrying injuries, such as a give arm or a badly turned ankle, the Doctor of the Church had been kept busy.

We needed to make a landfall where the ship could be careened, to allow for repairs to be carried out, re-caulking the sprung planking.

The slavers had disappeared, they could be anywhere by now if they had survived the storm that is. Perish the view, of the plight of those poor psyche, chained below deck of cards, life would make been sheer Scheol for them, and no chance of selection should their ship have suffered any mischance. The slave owner would not give birth released them from their prison, they would take in drowned, chained where they were.

The Captain had decided that we set a course that would take on us between Granada and St. Vincent, allowing us a vague chance of sighting our prey. Failing any sighting, we would continue north to St. Lucia, a suitable space to post out the necessary repairs we needed.

It was the boatswain who suggested to the master that perhaps he make a small detour to the eastern United States, he seemed to commend an island named Mustique, where he thought there was a large bay with waters deep enough to allow a ship to approach the beach, this was to the Dixieland west of the island, he recalled the gens of Les Jolies Eaux or like. It was a place pirate ship had often used in the past, it might be potential the slaver were there. The Daniel Chester French were more lean to turn a blind eye, as long as there was no trouble.

If we could catch them in the bay, and as long as the twist were in our favour, they could be trapped.

One day later, came the call,"Land ho, four points to larboard."( porthole side today ).

"What sail ?"the Captain hollered.

The sentry reported seeing nothing.

The police captain, was at the chart table, to the First ship's officer he ordered,"Alter course to look at us east, we'll clear the bay to the due south and drop anchor the other side of meat of the nearest headland. If they're there, they won't see our sail."

The anchor was dropped in only eight fathoms of water. The longsighted boat was ordered out and duly settled in the water alongside. The maiden Lieutenant led a party of five bluejacket, six shipboard soldier, plus one Midshipman.

They were to land at the head of the small bay, from there trek to the top of the headland, where, if the slaveholder were there, they would see them below. He would rear a green flag if they were, red if there was nothing.

III hours later, the lookout called,"Green fleur-de-lis, just below the head, sir."

The longsighted gravy boat was sent the recall sign. The Marines under the instruction of the Middie remained ashore, as the gravy boat pulled hard, back to the ship.

The slave owner were there, one at anchor, the early careened on the beach, an easy target it would seem.

Two boats took another fourteen shipboard soldier and a handful of seamen ashore.

The police chief's design was for the leatherneck and a handful of boater to expect until midnight before crossing the headland, to take up a attitude in the scrub and trees overlooking the beach.

At dawn, we would sail across the sassing of the bay. The ship would fire a word of advice shot, to lay close on the anchored vessel. At the same metre, the Marine would spread out flame at any crew that was visible.

At the allotted time, we cleared the headland,"Fire when cook,"came the guild, the Chief cannoneer laid his aim, then touched his burning taper to the ignition hole. A cloud of dope, momentarily hid the slaver from vista, as the explosion died away the sound of musket fire, from the Marine could be clearly heard.

It was all over, within mo the slavers had hauled their colouring, we tacked about, then sailed in, the wakeless bow pursuer aimed at the slaver, just in causa of any trickery.

The Captain turned to me,"Take a boarding company deputy, two boat I think will do, and secure that slaver."

The First police officer was to lead another party ashore to take the beached slaver, supported by the marines and bluejacket already ashore.

It was only a unforesightful pull to get us alongside the slaver, one gravy boat either side of meat and then we boarded, ready for a conflict. The gang had, however, had already discarded their weapons and offered no resistance, they were leader-less, all of their police officer being ashore.

"Uncover the hatches,"I ordered. The stench that came from below was dreaded as the covers came away, we could hear the wailing that came from within.

"bo'sun, send two of the slavers down, have them release the slave and get them up on deck."

"forgiveness my saying sir, they might not get out alive, once they go down there."

"That's their problem, besides it would do them right."

A cry came from the Captain's companionway."Sir, I think you needs be seein'this."He led the way to the Captains cabin.

"You needs be careful sir, she has a knife."

"What are you talking about man ?"I stepped through the doorway.

Just in time, I saw the vane flying at me, I ducked and heard the thud as it buried into the door framing, column inch from my drumhead. She was like a tempestuous animal expectoration at me, as she searched for something else to throw.

I saw that a chain of mountains was attached to the shackle fastened around her ankle, she could only be active in a minor arc, perhaps three feet or so.

I stared at her with shock, I could see that she was terrified, but also very brave out and dangerous. She wasn't cowed as striver usually are after months at sea, she was a combatant. She did not appear like the distinctive Negro African.

She was very tall, her haircloth was long and it crested in a wave above her forehead, her bosom were senior high and stood out firmly in front of her. I even noticed the brilliant white of her perfectly formed teeth. The lone blemish, if you can call it that, were the patterns scarred across her human face and above her breasts, they were, I thought, actually quite attractive.

She was like no African I had ever seen before if indeed that's what she was.

My thoughts came back to world, as a heavy home narrowly missed me. There was now though zip else within her ambit that she could contrive. Her eyes cast desperately about, I could see she was on the sceptre of tears, she shrank back from me, as I took a step forward.

I placed my side arm and brand on the tabular array, well out of her range. I held out my hands, palms up, and discharge."It's okay, I mean you no harm,"I spoke quietly and in a gentle spokesperson, although I doubted she understood a Book of it.

She was now backed against the cot she was chained to, she fell backwards, then scuttled to the bulkhead and cringed from me in the corner.

I saw a pitcher of water on the table, so I poured a cup, and held it out to her. She looked at me, center astray and scared. I slowly moved a step finisher, she tried to shrink yet further from me, I offered the cup closer, her eyes darted from the cup to my face, then back again, but she didn't scope out.

I lowered myself to kneel, still holding the cup to her and I continued speaking softly. Her hand lifted slightly but no more, so I leaned and set the cup on the cot in front line of her, then I rose and stepped back.

I called out of the cabin,"Fetch the bo's'n for me."I instructed him to place a guard on the cabin, on bother of end, if he let anyone enter.

On deck once more, I sent a boat ashore with instructions to bring the slaver police captain back.

I pushed the Captain ahead of me, into his cabin, the girl shrieked and cowered down, but I shoved him roughly into the chair at his board."Tie him up,"I ordered.

"You speak English people ?"I demanded. He affirmed, with a petty bow of his head."Who is she, and where's she from ?"

"Senor, I do not know her public figure, she is from magnetic north Africa, the desert regions far inland from the coast, I believe that her people are called the Wodaabe or possibly the Fulani.

Later I would learn from our doctor, that the Wodaabe were a nomadic tribe living along the southern bound of the Sahara, they were not Negro, some thought they originated centuries ago from Egypt. Their language is entirely unequalled to them, nothing exchangeable is spoken anywhere in the then known Africa.

"Give me the key to her chains."I snapped at him.

"Senor, pick out care, she is very dangerous."But he indicated a draw.

"takings him away, put him with the rest, I've no compliments to set eyes on him again."

I retrieved the key, I turned and showed it to her. I called the scout and indicated for him to pack my handgun and blade outside. Then, I approached the cot, with the key held out, I still thought that she might try and run the moment she was free.

It was when I got closer, that I saw the wale on her arms and shoulders, tempestuous Deutsche Mark showed the beating she had been given. I rose to get a bowl and material, I dipped the fabric in cold water, then offered it towards her arm.

She stared at me as I reached out and laid the cloth on her injuries, I saw her flinch but she remained totally silent, gently I bathed her arm, and then the former. I went to put the material to her articulatio humeri, but again she cringed away, I lay the textile on her paw and pointed, she remained still for an age, then put it to her shoulder.

I was surprised when she passed it back to me. I dipped it in the bowl, then indicated for her to turn, she didn't appear to get my signification, so I pointed at my back and then at her.

Again she stared, but then, slowly she turned her back to me. I was horrified at what I saw, these weren't just wheal, some were open air cuts right across her back. She must have been in horrendous pain.

As gently as was possible, I bathed her back, this time she didn't flinch, not in the slightest. I tapped her arm, and she turned back to face me. There was a look of curiosity on her face.

I took the key from my pocket, and held it up, I pointed at her mortise joint, then tried to argue a tranquilize motility with my handwriting. She seemed to sympathise because she gave me a small nod. I unlocked her constraint and waited for her to run, but instead, she sat and rubbed at her swollen ankle.

I reached for her script and pointed to the chair at the table. She took my hand, still watching me intently, as I led her to the chair.

Making certainly the guard was at the doorway first, I then went over to the mantle that shielded the headwaiter's larder. I found only cookie, wampum and some stale high mallow, I piled some on a plate and took them back to her. She took some bread and ate, I watched as she sniffed at the cheese, she seemed live up to and took a picayune bite.

For the first prison term, a small smile touched her typeface, as she commenced to eat all the cheese. I fetched the cup of water to her, she drank again, thirstily.

I found one of the headwaiter silk shirts and held it to her, but she looked baffle. I lifted her arm and guided it to the arm, then pointed to her other arm, this clock time she put her arm though herself, I laid the collar gently over her articulatio humeri

She stood and looked into the mirror and studied her expression, I pointed to my own shirt, showing her how it was tucked into my knickerbockers. Without hesitation, she lifted the shirt and tucked it into the skirt she was wearing.

Her breasts though were still showing at the forepart, I indicated the buttons but she just frowned. Carefully I reached, she made no attempt to barricade me as I fastened two buttons, then she pushed my hand away and fastened the rest herself.

I pointed upwards to above deck, and turned to the room access, her helping hand took my arm and stopped me, I turned to depend, she gazed at me, then her mitt came up, her finger's breadth touched my cheek, then she spoke, I have no idea what she was saying, but I was reassured.

She indicated the doorway, so I led the way back up and into the sunshine. I watched her as she took in everything around us.

The unfreeze hard worker now in the open, sitting in the ship's prow, with refreshful urine to wassail and salt water to bathe. None were like her, not in any way.

She saw the slaver's crew, sitting under guard, she went towards them as I followed closely, she stopped in front of one of the sea captain, then she spat at him and her helping hand shot out and slapped his look with a resounding offer, hard enough to ping him over, for a moment she stood looking down at him, then she spun around and walked away.

I led her to the side, pointed to the gravy holder and then the shore, she nodded and took my volunteer hand to be helped up and over the side, before climbing down to the boat.

Onshore, I enquired if the Dr. was about, then found him in a collapsible shelter set up as a temporary medical room. The young woman looked apprehensive, faced with this beard monster of a man. But I reached for her script, carefully pulled up a sleeve, showing the doctor the welts.

He tutted, then swore, but quickly reached for one of his many stack, before he applied a salve, with tender tutelage for such a behemoth of a man. It must experience had an immediate soothing upshot, I saw her grin, a little more the earlier.

I sat her on a stool, and unbuttoned her shirt, to ease it from her shoulders.

The Dr. swore, even louder, then apologised to her, I pointed out that she hadn't understood, so it hardly mattered.

The bo's'n had entered, he saw her back, I heard him curse as sailors will.

The Doctor of the Church fetched another pot, saying this would sting. I took her hands in mine and smiled at her. She gripped hard when the application entered her wounds, her oculus fixed on mine, I saw one tear leave her eye, to roll down her cheek.

"At least they're clean, no signs of any infection at the moment, but I'll need to check them again tomorrow."

I pulled her to her feet, after replacing her shirt, she turned and touched the doctor's bridge player, saying a few words in her strange nomenclature. Then she followed me out.

The captain was striding across the sand towards us,"fountainhead done lieutenant, a nice job today."He looked at the girl,"The bo's'n has told me about the girl, how she was found. He seemed to consider for a moment,"I'm putting you in command of the slaver you took, you're to choose the least fountainhead of the slave and sail her to Barbados, the governor can adjudicate on what best to do with them. As you seem to be the one she trusts, you'll take her with you. How soon can you throw the ship set up to sail ?"

"Two days, at the most, should do it. What about her gang ?"

He said that they would rest here with them, as I wouldn't have a large enough crew, to both sail the ship and have to keep safeguard on the slavers.

The bosun soon had the bridge player meddlesome sorting cruise and spar, so I was happy to leave him in charge.

The bosun had sent two men to set up a tent, just in the tree line, Two cots were installed, a wash basin and little judiciary completed the furnishing. One of the Jack lit a fire and set a pot, new water boiling for coffee.

The Nellie Bly passed us two steaming mugs, then saying he would convey us food once the cook had produced something to eat, he left us alone.

We had drunk our coffee, the girl pointed to the trees, I looked puzzled. She made a"Pssss"kind of disturbance, I felt stupid when I understood and must feature blushed. She smiled, then disappeared into the trees.

I realised my misapprehension, would she run, perhaps not to be seen again. But she did return and then she washed.

She pointed to the cot, I nodded, she went and laid down. In moment she was asleep, laying on her English to protect her back, as I sat and studied her. She was beautiful, of that there was no doubt.

( Authors note ; The Wodaabe are considered to be the most attractive of any slipstream in Africa, they are not related in any way, to any Negro federation of tribes, neither are they Arab. )

Sometime later, I gently shook her awake, her fear came back, her hands raised to strike out at me, then sentience dawned on her face, she took my hands and spoke, naturally I knew not what she said.

I pointed at my chest and said"Jim."Then pointed at her, but she frowned, so I tried again, and this time she responded.

"Fulala,"She said.

I handed her a plate of food for thought, she looked at the fork, then chose the spoon to eat. As soon as she had finished, she returned to the cot, she was clearly exhausted.

I sat and smoked my pipe, a shabu of wine in my hand.

Darkness had fallen when I checked her, she still slept soundly, a more peaceful look to her face.

I turned the lamp down low, just enough to leave a glow, should she wake. Then I lay down, it had been a long and hard day, in irregular I was asleep.

I woke in shadow, the lamp had burned out, I wondered what had woken me. An arm was laying across my chest, I felt her dead body aboard mine. I smiled to myself in the darkness and went back to sleep.

The early morning time light struck my grimace, I jumped awake, then rose and splashed my face. There was no sign of Fulala, but I smelled coffee brewing. The collapsible shelter flapping raised high-pitched, she came in and handed me a cup,"Jim"she said.

A commotion erupted somewhere along the beach, I snatched up my pistol, rushing from the tent. A crew was gathering just along the shoetree line. When I had pushed my way through I saw the slaver chieftain swinging from a rope tied to a outgrowth above.

My bo's'n came over,"Looks like he ‘ ung ‘ iself !"he said with a vast grin.

I frowned at him, wondering how the now dead Captain would throw been able to get past the sentries and then float to prop up before hanging himself. It didn't seem at all likely.

backrest at my tent, I indicated to Fulala that I needed to go out to the ship, pointing for her to persist here, she shook her headspring vehemently, she uttered a string of strange words, then stormed off towards the boat.

On board she followed me everywhere, she would never leave my side, I had a permanent shadow. I even saw some of my crew, slyly nudge and wink at each other. But she would not go near any of them, she would obscure behind me should one attack for instructions.

That evening I sat for a while, once more with my pipe, Fulala came and sat close, she leaned her berm to mine, her hand resting on my knee.

My pipe empty, she stood and took my hand, then led me inside. She picked up the pot of salve provided by the Doctor of the Church and passed it to me. Facing away from me, she removed her shirt, then stood to wait.

Carefully I applied it to her back, I could see it had much improved, thanks to the doctor. Gently I rubbed some into the welts across her shoulder joint, then her hand came up to cover mine, she held it still for a import, then she was pulling my bridge player down to her boob, she held it to her, once more just holding it still, then she began to proceed my paw, around her breasts, she pushed my fingerbreadth to a nipple, squeezing them around it, I could feel it harden under my touch.

She turned to face me, speaking softly, it seemed to be a chant of some sort. Her fingers went to the buttons of my shirt, to undo them one by one. She pushed it off of my articulatio humeri letting it fell to the background. Her custody came to my chest, her fingerbreadth exploring as she appeared to be examining my white skin.

She undid and dropped my rear of barrel, then fetching the bowl, she washed me. She smiled when she lowered my bloomers, then washed me there as well.

After pushing me to the cot, I lay down and watched her as she also washed. When she was done, she came and stood by the cot, looking down at me. I held my handwriting to her, she took it in hers, raised it to her lips, and she kissed my finger's breadth. Then she lay beside me, doing nothing else, except looking into my face, she was waiting for me to create the number one move.

Once Thomas More I took hold of her knocker, to admire their soundness and the now very hard nipples. I was indeed captivated by their ravisher. Her heart never left mine, the gaze was intent in its scrutiny.

Then she was whispering to me in her own language, how I wished I understood.

I moved my sass towards her, she came to meet them, the osculation was deep and lingering, her large lips were a delight to experience. I pushed my spit between her lips, she opened to meet me, her tongue exploring mine.

She flinched slightly when my hand went to her articulatio humeri, I had for a bit, bury her combat injury. Instead, I moved my hired hand to her waist and pulled her to me, I felt her push her torso at me in response.

Then her paw came between us, to find my hardening member. She caressed it, now squeezing, then stroking along its length. She teased at the tip, circling her fingers.

My hand was pulled from her waist as she raised a knee, to push me between her legs. She was not circumcised as are many African girlfriend, her lip were entire but easy to my fingers.

( Author's not ; The Wodaabe are one of only a few kindred in Africa, that do not practice any physique of Feast of the Circumcision. )

For a patch I admired their feel, before entering her with a finger, I felt the warmth and a slight wetness. She jerked towards my deal, as I found her clit, it came to life story under my touch, I rubbed and caressed, and she gripped me tighter.

Her mouth left mine and moved to my chest, her tongue and rim roamed over me. She kissed my nipples, gently bit with her tooth. Then continuing on down, she paused to find my hard chorded breadbasket brawn. The hand holding my humanity lifted it to her lips, her clapper came out and tasted me. Then her lips opened wide, allowing her oral cavity to descend, engulfing me. Her head rolled, moving me around inside her mouth

Now, I could feel the wetness between her legs, her pelvic girdle grinding into my hand as I teased.

Suddenly she rose above me, changed her body position to straddle my pelvic arch with her thighs, then to filch herself, as she rubbed my tip along her dent, searching for, and then finding her entrance. She slowly lowered her body to contract me inside, down she went as I was absorbed mystifying and deeper.

I felt her brawn clenching on me, then she leaned her upper body down to my chest, she spoke to me, just before her mouth met mine. Her hips began to rise along my length, then down again, the motion slowly becoming faster, her fingers dug deep and operose into my shoulders as her fire mounted.

She spoke again as her consistency began to tense, this sentence I could venture at what she was telling me, I allowed the feelings surging inside of me a detached reign, my tool responded. She sat back, now upright, her fingers clawing at my chest, as she bounced herself furiously.

It was my prison term, I let loose inside her, I saw her glimpse at me, she had felt me cumming, then she went rigid, only her hips flexing, driving her climax, as she also climaxed.

I was spent, completely drained, when she fell forward, her head nestled to my cervix, her script holding my arms. Still, she gently rocked her pussy on my stopcock, a soft caress.

Desperately, I wanted to hold her tight to me, but her damaged back prevented me, instead I kissed her forehead. She looked up and smiled.

( generator's note ; The Wodaabe have completely different views on sex to that of the western domain, unblock sexual body process from puberty until marriage is normal, provided it is never expressed in populace thought. well-nigh are experienced before their late teens. )

The next day, we sailed for Barbados, heading for the capital of Bridgetown. The voyage would be long-winded having to put together constantly, the farting at this sentence of year, would always be against us, It would be a tiring journey with only a minuscule crew.

looking at a map, you might think it to be only a five or six days sail but it actually took nearly two weeks.

I had a concealment erected across one one-half of my cabin, more than to quell the chin-wag than for our own privacy. It wouldn't pay to be too obvious. Only the bosun I imagine suspected that we shared a cot.

The voyage went smoothly enough, and eventually, we approached under reduced canvas, beneath the insomniac eye of the defensive structure with their immense canons. We fired six canon, paying our respects to the Governor as we cleared the fort.

At the sign arm, I had raised flags, requesting I might be received as soon as potential, I wanted to switch province for the freed slaves as quickly as possible.

Two hr later, the regulator's aide had agreed to select the striver off my hired hand, Fulala excepted. He assured me that they would be well and treated, suitable use found for them as soon as they fully recovered from their ordeal.

Fulala was more of a trouble. My feelings for her ran deep. It wasn't honey, but I knew I had to do more than for her, I had no idea what, but knew I must try something.

Back on add-in once more, the bo's'n approached me,"Menachem Begin your amnesty sir, might I be ‘ avin a word ? In buck private, so to speak, if you wouldn't be mindin ’, sir."

In my cabin, he doffed his cap at Fulala, with a little grin, She smiled back. She had by now accepted him as individual she could trust, no longer showing any fear.

"I know it rightly, not be'in my business sir, but I's taken the liberty of speakin'with the lighter master. He tells me there be a orchard proprietor that employs some what was hard worker. He says there could be a fella that might be capable to speak with Fulala. Excuse me interferin'like, I hope's I ain't done wrong."

"bo's'n, you're a hero, here come and have a methamphetamine with me and I thank you most sincerely."

The next dawn, I hired a trap and set off overland for Saint John, a journey of some XX odd miles. I was in a dire rushing, hoping it might be avowedly that Fulala and I might at utmost communicate. I wanted to see out more about her.

I watched Fulala as she admired the scenery of the beautiful island. I saw her looking at the gangs of black workers we passed, sometimes a looking of Hope, then disappointment at seeing none of her own people, I supposed.

The plantation owner was a pleasant lineament, he showed no hesitation in inviting us both into his home and oblation refreshment.

No sooner had I explained my job, and he promptly called a handmaiden, speaking in the local patois to him, before the man nodded with a smile, and off he went.

Perhaps half an hr had passed, when the servant appeared in the door, another stood behind him. The owner spoke to him, I didn't follow what was said but I did discover Fulala's epithet mentioned.

The fellow came forward and spoke to her, she frowned shaking her brain. He spoke again, in what was quite obviously a different language.

It was as if the sun shone from her face, she beamed at him, Christian Bible gushed from her. The fellow raised his hands, indicating for her to slow down, with an obvious effort she did.

The owner interrupted, he said we should sit ourselves out on the verandah, call for as long as you like, he told us.

A tenacious conversation ensued, whilst I sat impatiently waiting. The fellow then, in halting side, confirmed that Fulala was indeed from the Wodaabe people. The slave dealer targeted their char for their smasher, they were Charles Frederick Worth a lot to them. He explained that Fulala wanted to distinguish me of her gratitude for her delivery, She had come to recognize that all white people were not evil after all, just the slave owner. Her fear was for what would go of her. Could I hold her as a servant or something, just so long as she could stay with me ?

She looked crestfallen when I explained that this wouldn't be potential, as I was a serving officer in the Royal Navy. She took my hand, her centre beseeching, my eye went out to her, but what could I do ?

The owner, his gens was William Fergus, invited us to stay a few days, if we could. He would take great pleasure in showing us over the plantation. I was in no haste to revert, my Captain wouldn't arrive for at least another five days, or even more.

Fulala remained behind, she wanted to acquit on speaking with our translator, whilst I rode with William. The sights were indeed spectacular, just as William had promised, especially at the coast. I thought this was an island I could happily live on.

Back at the mansion in time for dinner, I was shocked to see Fulala approach path dressed in a gorgeous and brightly coloured clothes. She said"Kanu,"pointing at the translator.

Kanu confirmed that his wife had insisted on making the girl decent in presence of God-fearing hoi polloi. I couldn't consort to a greater extent, as I looked at Fulala, she was just so beautiful.

She looked at me,"Hello, Jim,"She did a twirl, then paused to consider,"Like ?"A pensive look on her face. Her speech, albeit, just a few, were in English, Kanu had been occupy and I was delighted.

I took her work force, pulled her closer and kissed her on the cheek,"Hello Fulala, you look so lovely, yes I like."

Both she and Kanu looked extremely pleased with themselves.

Over dinner party, I enquired of William, as to what amount of money I might need to purchase a small plantation, that is if there even were such a place available.

The measure he mentioned, did not particularly exalt me with any confidence that there was any possibility of my raising the kind of substance involved.

Later following a pleasant eve and after brandy, taken along with my pipe, we retired to our respective rooms. I lay for some meter pondering on my futurity. What did I want ? Where was I going in life ? And so on. I had been happy with my life history in the navy blue, but I knew that I was in a rut. There was small chance of promotion, with no war being fought, what with EC in a state of uneasy truce, I saw little prognosis of bettering myself. Maybe it was time to change focal point. I was by no agency rich, yes I had prize monies owed me, and the seizure of the slave owner would add to that, but was it enough ?

I saw rather than get word my door open, Fulala peered through the gap,"Please"she said.

In response to my nod, she closed the door behind her and ran quietly barefoot to me."Hello Jim"it didn't seem to quite fit the spot, but it was squeamish none-the-less.

She dropped the smock she was wearing, then lifting the covers she was beside me, her injuries had improved immensely, so now she lay on her back and she pulled me to her.

My lips found hers, it was a foresightful kiss, before she pulled my face to her bare boob, for me to deal them in kisses.

Her hand went straight between my legs, to pinch my hammer, then she massaged me, bringing animation and a rapidly rising urge.

Roughly, she pushed my caput down towards her thighs, whilst pulling my own towards her aspect. For a moment it was an embarrassing manoeuvre, then my brim were at her cunt and hers found me, as our bodies now faced each other side by side.

My cock was swallowed thick in her mouthpiece, as my digit separated the flap between her thighs, I could see the whiteness inside, that contrasted with her pelt. My tongue delved as deep as it could, I wanted to taste her, I wanted to mount inside her. I licked up between her lips to get in at her clitoris, it seemed larger to my spit than it had to my fingers, soon it hardened under the my caress.

Two fingers were now inside her, feeling her, teasing her and pleasing her. My hand felt the wet, almost pouring from within, her thighs gripped my brain, squeezing hard. I sensed my clip was coming, so I lifted my cheek away and turned my body. I lay her categorical, with me on top of her

Her legs facing pages encompassing to meet me as I lowered myself into her, the wetness smoothed the way, as I sunk trench inside her vagina. She bucked her hips up to meet my drive, as we fucked each other.

"Jim, Jim, Jim,"was all she said, then she was moaning softly, her fingers pulling my hair. Just as she always did, her body tensed, so I knew her climax was close.

Her hips thrust hard at me, we lost the tempo but it didn't matter, she started to shake under me, the moan became an animal like growl. I tried to fuck harder, but her legs wrapped me in their embrace, pulling me and holding me cryptical. I could finger her inside milking me as I came, even in my climax I saw the huge fulfill grin on her face. She pulled my face to hers,"Jim, I love."

The side by side day, William suggested that Fulala should quell there, while I returned to Bridgetown. He said Kanu and his married woman were willing to bear her stay with them. And besides, Kanu had been trying to learn her some English.

She clung to my hands, even when I had mounted, tears in her eyes as she spoke in her own language."Don't vexation, Fulala, I'll be back soon, you'll be fine here."She didn't understand me, but she did look a little happier, perhaps it was the gentleness with which I spoke.

The police chief's ship arrived the next day, along with the other slaver. I reported on circuit board and appraised the police captain of the help the regulator's staff had given, and that the ex-slaves were being well looked after.

He frowned when told of Fulala's whereabouts, asking what on earth did I think I was doing, was I being mediocre to her, allowing her to perhaps be reading something into her situation that I couldn't possibly deliver.

It was at that minute, I realised what I wanted. It was the trigger I needed. I could release my delegation and easily get an advancement against my swag money.

I went ashore to the Crown Agents billet. He was able to advise, as to approximately what my credit currently stood at, based on the plunder money list. Although he thought it could well be double that, once dues were added from later prizes.

My side by side Call was to a grove gross revenue federal agent, he was sure he could show me something that would fulfill my indigence and more importantly, be within my budget, there were three possibility ready for my inspection should I so wish. I promised that I would be in touch as soon as I could.

backbone at the grove, I could see no sign of Fulala but found William on his veranda. I explained to him my thought process, he said the agent was honest and could be trusted, within reason anyway.

He knew which were likely to be two of the holding, one quite close by, not large but viable, it would farm an income, not sufficient to make anyone rich, not by any means, but that with hard employment, it could prosper. He said the Plantation was being worked under a lease agreement but that the family were currently empty.

I asked if I might borrow Kanu tomorrow, for the day.

We took the trap, and half an hour later, Kanu pointed to a somewhat overgrown drive. Turning a box and the home came into horizon, I stopped to stare. It wasn't a huge plaza but it was totally charming. A slug of paint here and there, and it would be restored to life.

I pushed the room access open, the hall was larger than I expected, the furnishings were covered with cloth, as they turned out to be in all of the elbow room. It was almost ready and waiting for an occupier.

I asked Kanu to wait in the hall, Fulala and I toured the house, we took in every way, soon

I found myself more excited at the prospect that this could get my domicile. I suddenly noticed that Fulala was wearing a stupefy frown. She pointed at me,"Jim, you ?"Then pointed to the house.

I took her workforce,"Jim and Fulala."She studied my face, her own showing different emotions.

I shouted for Kanu, then told him what I wanted him to say.

"Fulala will you marry me and experience here with me ?"

She spoke to Kanu, a very serious looking at on her face. Kanu laughed, whilst I looked perplexed.

Then he explained,"Wodaabe men have to paint face and looking like pretty girl before they can win women to be married, it is their way."

She spoke again, and Kanu translated,"She say you are not pretty man, but big firm man. She think you do not take paint look to realize her well-chosen. She also said some other things, but it is not proper for me to say. I think you must ask her yourself when she can speak proficient English."

I looked from Kanu to her, she had a sly grin on her nerve as she ran into my arms.

"Fulala love Jim, is you love Fulala ?"Her English needed work but it was a beginning !

The end .