Chapter One
Margot Parrow returned to the ambassador’s residence. One of Queen Muunu’s minions drove her there. It was clear from the frequent sideways looks and the smile on the driver’s face that she at least suspected what Queen Muunu made Margot do.
It was so embarrassing.
It was all so humiliating.
It was so confusing.
Margot insisted that the driver let her out at the front gate. She said she wanted to walk to the front door on her own.
She did not want some smirking driver who knew or suspected Margot breastfed from Queen Muunu to come in with her and meet her daughter.
Journee. Good lord. What would Journee think of her mother if she ever found out?
The two female Rambikkun guards stood stoic to either side of the gate to the Ambassador’s Residence. They held long sharp spears.
Fucking spears! It put a fine… point!... on how different things were in Rambikku than in the U.S. Or almost anywhere else in the world, probably. Maybe not the spears but the hyper-matriarchy. These crazy Rambikkun bitches kicked out eighty percent of their men and treated the other twenty percent like slaves.
Margot did not think she should be here. In Rambikku. They should have chosen someone else. But she wasn’t chosen, was she? Well, not by the State Department. She was chosen by Queen Muunu herself.
Oh, such a fucking honor!
That big-titted Queen bitch got Margot to drink milk from her breasts. A lot of milk. And did other stuff to Margot.
No big deal. She’d just made Margot Parrow orgasm by fingerfucking her while Margot fed on her breast milk straight from one of Queen Muunu’s big black nipples. Yeah, that was pretty much the definition of “no big deal,” Margot thought bitterly.
Afterward, Queen Muunu dismissed her and gave her permission to put her clothes back on.
Permission!
No pleasantries. Queen Muunu was a slam bam fingerfuck you and not thank you sort.
Fucking bitch!
Margot felt ooey gooey. She needed a shower and not only because of the humid tropical climate. She had dried breast milk all over her. Even in her hair! Some of it wasn’t even fully dry.
She was probably too used to the smell but guessed she smelled like milk.
She was also still wet as could be between her legs, and she knew exactly why. But not really. Why had she gotten so aroused?
Was it the lesbianism? The interracial aspect? The breastfeeding?
None of those wrongs felt quite right. It was something else.
And, no, it sure as fuck was not patriotic desire to serve her country that made her so aroused. She was always patriotic, right?
It would have been great if she could have sold that story to herself. “Yeah, sure, no worries, Margot, you’re just soooo patriotic. It’s a good thing!”
Margot came to understand, reluctantly, why she’d gotten so aroused.
Queen Muunu had ordered Margot around, and Margot knew she had to do it, whatever the “it” was. It was like going on a sudden ride and not knowing how it would turn out. Something about that was so thrilling. The risk, maybe.
She hoped it was the risk.
If not? Then maybe she was some kind of submissive.
What kind of submissive? What kinds were there?
Could she be one? She’d heard of them. It was supposed to be a common… thing.
But her? Margot Parrow? She held a challenging full-time government job in Washington, D.C., and did it while raising, on her own, two fantastic daughters.
It made no sense!
Well, good. That must not be it then.
She’d just chalk it up under the general category of “something else” and then try not to think about it again.
She walked up the winding walkway to the front door. She felt her full tummy sloshing. Still so full. She touched her abdomen. It felt tight.
She was full of an African Queen’s breastmilk!
As she neared the door, two young black women, slim and wiry but tall and with surprisingly prominent breasts, came through it giggling.
They weren’t wearing much. Some kind of native apparel with bands of thin colored fabric over their breasts and some kind of skirt that was made up of strings of wood beads. Their muscular, very dark brown legs flashed back and forth through the dress curtains of beads.
They saw her, and one pointed while leaning on the other and said something in her native tongue. The second looked at Margot and her giggling increased in volume.
What was the big joke? That Margot was white?
She would almost swear they were looking right at her tummy. But that couldn’t be, of course. There was no way they could know. Margot knew her feeling was all in her head. It was her guilt making her think that.
Margot did not want to talk with anyone on the planet just then, but there was no avoiding it. They walked right up to her.
The one slightly in the lead said, “Greetings, American ambassador. I am Rhone, and my companion is Pindpo. We were tasked with keeping your daughter company in your expected absence. We are Rambikkun liaisons to family members of ambassadors to Rambikku.”
“Is my daughter alright?”
“Yes, of course. We very much succeeded in occupying her time.”
“Greatly so,” added the one named Pindpo.
“We – how you say? – we enjoyed having your daughter,” said Rhone.
Margot frowned slightly, “I think you mean to say you enjoyed your time with my daughter.”
“Yes. That too. We are leaving now but will return tomorrow to remain her companions while you are with Queen Muunu. This way, you will not worry. Your daughter is in our hands. That way, you know this.”
“I guess. I mean, if Journee wants to hang out with you. I think she should make friends here.”
They were both grinning like they shared an inside joke.
The one named Rhone said, “Yes, she – how you say? – she wants us very much.”
“Uh, okay. This could be good. Journee doesn’t know her way around. You two could be her guides. Maybe that sounded wrong. I mean, friends, of course, but you also know the area.”
Rhone nodded, “Yes, we guide her in many ways. I like to guide. Guide tells what to do. Be sure you tell the daughter always to do as her guides say to do.”
Pindpo chimed in, “Yes, yes, make the positive. Reinforce daughter obey her guides.”
They both looked like they were holding back giggles.
Margot blinked at that. These “guides” weren’t very good with English. The way they phrased things accidentally sounded rude.
Rhone said, “Yes, it was good today. I expect it will be very good tomorrow. I look forward to it being good with your daughter.”
Pindpo added, “Your daughter starts to know her way around. We teach her new ways and new skills. Ones she will use so often in the future.”
Rhone said with enthusiasm, “Use all rest of her life. Use so many times.”
Pindpo said, “We show her some things today, and she start to learn. Good start!”
“That’s nice,” said Margot. These two weren’t so good with English, but they had great smiles and fantastic enthusiasm. Journee also had lots of enthusiasm, so they had that in common.
Still, she could not imagine what skills they could teach Journee. How to avoid crocodiles at the watering hole? How to find easy food by watching the behavior of the white-backed vultures?
Pindpo smiled at Margot and, for what reason Margot could not guess, batted her eyes, “We could also show you things, Ambassador Parrow. Lots of things up close. Things to see, feel, touch, smell, and taste.”
Wow, these Rambikkuns sure were all about the five senses! Margot thought these two better be careful if they ever traveled outside Rambikku. People in other countries might think they sounded suggestive!
This time they couldn’t hold in their giggles. What, they’d feed her some bizarre African food like fried praying mantis or some such? Maybe they’d pretend it was French fries and then, after Margot ate it, reveal it was the fried legs of giant bugs. Margot reminded herself to remember not to eat anything that these two gave her to eat.
Rhone nodded eagerly, “Yes, I’m sure we could tell you what to touch and smell and taste. We tell, and you do. It will work so well that way.”
“Ah, sure. Maybe sometime.”
“Perhaps we will see you tomorrow.”
Margot thought of something, “Hang on. You said I’ll be with Queen Muunu tomorrow?”
“Yes. As is arranged. We are privy to the Queen’s schedule. Queen Muunu like to keep diplomats guessing, as they say. We happen to know she wants to share both breakfast and lunch with you tomorrow. Queen Muunu like the hungry diplomats.”
Margot felt the blood draining from her face.
Pindpo added with a too-wide maybe-maybe not genuine smile, “And, do not forgot, thirsty diplomats.”
“Yes, that. Both these things. So, American ambassador, do not eat breakfast and bring big appetite to Queen Muunu. Be ready to feast!”
Rhone and Pindpo went off snickering a bit.
Margot watched them visiting with the spear-wielding guards. The guards turned and looked at Margot.
Margot had to wonder. Did the girl liaisons know what Margot did when she was with Queen Muunu? Was it common knowledge in Rambikku that Queen Muunu liked to breastfeed diplomats who visited her?
Did that fucker Gerald Northman know about any of this? If he did know, she bet he purposely left it out of the job offer. It would be hard to find ambassadors if they knew they had to breastfeed from an African Queen.
Margot hoped the liaison girls did not know. They were here all day with her daughter! They’d be back tomorrow! They were young women who did not behave discretely. If they thought or knew that Margot breastfed from Queen Muunu, they might tell Journee. They probably would! Margot bet young women in Rambikku gossiped just as much as ones in America.
Who knew, in this place, breastfeeding between adults might be common and an accepted practice. It might be the Rambikkun equivalent to shaking hands. Those two may not even know they were supposed to keep it secret. Even if they knew they should keep it secret, that did not mean they would keep it secret.
And the fingerfucking? There was no way that was a cultural thing!
How could Margot arrange it so these liaisons did not spend time with her daughter?
It didn’t seem possible. Appeal to Queen Muunu tomorrow while they were already with Journee again?
It seemed like this diplomatic mission was a clusterfuck of the breastfeeding variety. A clustertittysuck? What a mess.
Margot really regretted taking on this mission.
She went into the Ambassador’s residence. Her and Journee’s, and Deja Jenkins’, home for the next who knew how many months.