Chapter One

 

Fuck.

They were back.

Journee sat up in bed and blinked owlishly at Rhone and Pindpo.  They stood over her at either side of her bed.  They grinned like it was their birthdays.  Their amazingly white teeth gleamed.  Journee wondered how they had such beautiful perfect white teeth.  Wasn’t this a third world country?  Shouldn’t they have bad teeth?  Did they even have any dentists in this country?

Well, it sure looked like they must.  Either that or dentists were not needed here. 

Rhone and Pindpo were quite the genetic specimens.  Their incredible teeth.  Their height.   Their vibrant health.  They were both slim yet muscular, like Olympic track athletes.  And they had such disproportionately large breasts.  And yet their breasts were so firm!  They stuck straight out.  Total gravity-defiers! 

Wasn’t this a third-world country?  As in, no one seemed to wear bras around this place.  Shouldn’t their tits hang down to their belly buttons?

Rhone said, “Yes, good, awaken American.  Much to do today.”

Pindpo added, “Such fun awaits us.  Us.  Rhone and I.  Much of this fun will be due to you.”

That sounded like a threat despite Pindpo’s grin.

These two were so fucking smiley.

These two had pulled so much shit with Journee yesterday.

These two had made Journee orgasm like… well… well, like a total lesbian!  Neat trick, but Journee wasn’t interested in a repeat.

Shit.  The two of them were ogling her and practically licking their lips.  Journee could tell they were interested in a repeat.

They were a threat!  Not to Journee’s safety.  They were a threat to Journee’s sexuality.  Journee assumed if someone, that someone being herself, at some unknown point had one too many lesbian orgasms, they’d cross over and become a lesbian.

How did this place even have lesbians?  Weren’t they a third-world country?  Didn’t third-world countries do stuff like put lesbians to death?

Journee was glad they didn’t.  She would not want anything bad to happen to Rhone or Pindpo.  But she also didn’t want them to try anything with her again.

Admittedly, it would be convenient if the Rambikkun secret police – assuming they had them, but, hey, they must have them because Rambikku was a third-world country – swept in and arrested these two.

“Rhone.  Pindpo.  How did you get in my bedroom?”

Pindpo waved a hand dismissively, “The guards know we have permission for full access to the Americans.”

Full access to the Americans….

“We have a key to the Ambassador’s Residence.  We may enter at any time we want.  No need to knock.”

No need?  What about the need for good manners?

Journee guessed, based on events yesterday, that they did not feel the need to have good manners.

Rhone’s smile changed slightly, becoming less innocent, “Yes.  Any time.  Maybe we will visit you in the middle of the night.  It is so convenient.  You will already be in bed.”

Pindpo nodded in agreement.

They sure were being obvious about their intentions….

“Look, my new lady friends, I need to be honest and clear with you.  We’re only friends.  There won’t be any more of… that stuff we did yesterday.”

They laughed like what she said was the funniest thing they had ever heard.

Journee sighed.  She wasn’t going to derail them with a blanket cover-all statement of no more sex with her.  She’d have to deal with their advances when they occurred.  Not if.  When.

Journee sat in her bed, worried about what came next, what they might try, and waited for their laughter to die down.  How was she even supposed to get out of bed with them right there?  It was fucking hot in Rambikku, hot and humid, and this supposedly grand Ambassador’s Residence – which really was grand looking and huge – somehow did not have air conditioning.

Journee had slept in the nude.  That wasn’t slutty!  She was just hot, and how could she have known these two would show up in her bedroom and wake her up?

And, yes, true, a lot of that humidity last night came from her pussy, and the lack of clothing was convenient when she’d fingerfucked herself.  Hey, it was better to do it in bed at night than how her temporary lust insanity led her to masturbate yesterday afternoon by the pool while her mom took a nap.  That was so risky!  Someone could have peeped at her from the jungle. 

But Journee had really needed it and could not wait until night.  Yes, these two black bitches made her orgasm earlier in the day, but they also made her need another orgasm.

Say what you want about being interracially lesbian dominated, but it sure made a girl horny!

But only yesterday.

Today was a new day.  That crazy shit could never happen again.

Rhone and Pindpo got their laughter under control.

Pindpo said to Rhone, “The American slut called us friends.  Friends!  Like we are equal!”

“Yes, Pindpo, she needs much work.  We are up to this task.  Queen Muunu say white savages are so ignorant they are not aware they are savages.  She says they do know they are white, that they do, but they think they are in charge of the world.  They actually think white is better than black.  Can you imagine this?  Do you see?  Ignorant savages!”

Pindpo blinked and sounded like she was trying to be fair, “It is understandable, yes?  So far, the whites have been world leaders.”

“True.  See where it has gotten the world?  Wars, starvation, bad climate, awful pollution, and the majority of animal species extinct since 1970.  Yes, it must change, and it will change.”

Pindpo turned towards Journee, “White savage, you are a slave slut, and we are your superiors.  We cannot be friends as you say.  Make no mistake on this matter.”

Rhone’s voice had a harder edge, “We are not your friends.  We are your Black Mistresses.  Your first two of very many.”

Journee had a sinking feeling.  Yeah, it sure didn’t sound like these two weird lustful pushy foreigners understood that yesterday was an exception, some kind of heat madness, and that those things would not happen again.

Journee corrected herself.  She was in their country.  She was the foreigner, not them.  But that didn’t mean they got to have their way.  Especially if that meant having their way with Journee.

She’d have to confront them with the truth.  They were the ignorant ones.  They were ignorant of how Journee felt about all this.  They did not even seem to care how she felt!  And they were ignorant that whatever that was yesterday was over.  That was yesterday’s news, but she hoped it never made the news with her mom.

Today was a new day!  Fucking bitches!

Journee would confront them, but she wanted to do it with clothes on.  That was understandable, right?

“Could you two step out of my bedroom?”

They laughed again.

Pindpo said, “Why step out?  Why?”

“So I can get dressed!”  These two were starting to frustrate Journee more than they intimidated her.  They kept laughing at her like everything she said was a joke!

Jesus, she’d assumed her mom and she would be treated like guests in Rambikku or maybe even better than that.  It was a third-world country, and weren’t first-worlders supposed to have a mystique to the third-worlders?  Wasn’t that how it worked?  Didn’t third-worlders view first-worlders as a sort of economic and technological royalty?

Maybe not.

Rhone said, “We saw all of your American slut body yesterday.  All!  Even the pink between the legs.  I doubt it changed overnight.”

Pindpo chimed in, “We hope it did not change overnight.  American slut is such an appealing American slut.”

Their eyes beamed at her, and their grins beamed along with their eyes.

She supposed they were right.  About her body, that is, not the part about her being a slut.

Journee got out of bed and started to put on clothes, starting with shorts.

Rhone took several long steps forward and swatted Journee’s ass hard, three times.

“What the fuck!?!”

Rhone barked, “No clothes for you.  No need for clothes.  Why put on what you must right away take off?  No American slut should cause the waste of time for us!”

“I can’t just go around in the nude!”

“You can and you will.  Today we stay here at the Ambassador’s Residence.”

“What about my mom?”

“She is away.  She is feeding at Queen Muunu.”

What a strange way to phrase it!  Even for someone with imperfect English.  But Journee knew Zurica must have picked up her mom already.

“Oh, yeah?  Well, what about Deja Jenkins?  She lives here also.”

“No worry of the Deja woman.  No worry.”

So, Deja must have gone with Mom.  That made sense.  Journee was surprised Deja wasn’t allowed to go yesterday.

Which meant she was alone in this big place with these two alarmingly lesbian young black women.

And it meant she did not have a good excuse to wear clothing.

Jesus.  She needed a “good excuse” to wear clothing?

Journee dropped the shorts to the floor.  She felt like she’d lost control.  Already, just a few steps out of bed.  They decided if she should or could wear clothes and, apparently, because she hadn’t protested further and just now dropped her shorts, she was going along with what they wanted.  Even though she did not want it!

Journee felt sudden dread certainty that it would be difficult to talk these two out of further sexual activity like the day before.  Journee felt shaken up.  She felt shaky.

The certainty blanketed her like a heavy morning fog.  It left her as damp as one.

The two black bitches grinned and looked pleased.  Journee realized her obedience, her defeat, made them happy.  These two were not her friends!  They were right about that, but not in the way they thought.

They thought they were superior to Americans?  What the fuck?  What kind of third-world country was this?

Pindpo said, “Rhone, do not forget the American tradition.  We want American slut to feel comfortable in Rambikku.”

Rhone’s grin widened to something a crocodile would be proud to sport, “Yes, Pindpo.  We must not forget.”

Rhone took two long-legged strides to Journee, grabbed Journee’s right bicep in two wiry but powerful hands, and spun Journee back onto the bed on her back.

Journee was flummoxed.  Was Rhone trying to fight her?

Journee raised her hands to shield her face, but Rhone knocked them away, laughing again.  Then she lay diagonally across Journee.

“Lie still, American slut.  Gladly accept your American tradition.”

Getting beat up or laid on in bed was not an American tradition!

Pindpo approached and stood between Journee’s inadvertently spread legs.  Journee realized she could not close them now.  And by then, Rhone had wrestled her arms down and out of the way!

Pindpo said, “We will do your American tradition first, but you will partake in many Rambikkun traditions here.”

Rhone added, “Some of which no doubt has not yet occurred to Queen Muunu for her to order their creation.”

How could a tradition “occur” to someone?  Weren’t they already in place?  Weren’t traditions customs that were passed on from generation to generation?

Pindpo said, “Queen Muunu is so clever with her new traditions.”

Journee guessed traditions had to start sometime and must have a first generation before being passed down to the next.  But she’d rather not start them.

Who cared about Rambikkun traditions now?  Right now, this American tradition, whichever one it was, was too much for Journee to handle.  Because it seemed to mean getting handled!

Journee felt helpless.  Already, less than two minutes into her day.  She was alone and nude in the Ambassador’s Residence.  Alone except for these two grinning and aggressive young foreign lesbians.  She’d be much better off truly alone.  Journee could not move her arms, could not get up with Rhone lying on her, and could not move her legs other than if she wanted to spread her knees even wider. 

Which she did not want!

But which… she sort of did want….

It was happening again.  That terrible thing from yesterday.  And her warm wetness.  That was happening, too.

There was a beautiful, scantily clad black girl on top of her and another beautiful, scantily clad black girl between her legs.  Heterosexual or not, the physical contact affected Journee.  Probably more so now than ever after those orgasms with these same girls yesterday.

Rhone declared, “I will now give the American slut, the daughter of the other American slut—”

Did Rhone just insinuate that Journee’s mom was a slut?   Normally, those would be fighting words.  But, for now, all they could be was lay there while helpless words.

“—the American tradition.  Here, American slut, have your ‘breakfast in bed.’”

Rhone shifted her body upward.  Then she shifted again, sliding across Journee’s small bare breasts and her neck.  Pindpo leaned down between Journee’s legs and did something to Rhone’s brightly-colored wrap that only covered her from the top of her belly button to under her armpits.  The clothe slid off Rhone.

Rhone slid further up and lifted her torso a little.

Just as Journee understood what her breakfast in bed would be, the tip of one of Rhone’s breasts pressed insistently at Journee’s lips.

Rhone’s breast felt full and tight, like a swollen, thick balloon.  Her nipple was big and hard.  It pushed between Journee’s lips like a pushy fingertip.

Even as Journee told herself that she would not do it, not again, that she would not suckle milk from this young woman’s breast, Rhone’s nipple tip was already in her mouth.

Reactively, Journee pushed at the nipple with her tongue tip, trying to push it out of her mouth even as her lips opened wider.  But Rhone’s weight was on Journee’s face and led my Rhone’s weighty breast.  Journee’s tongue pushed against the full weight of Rhone’s full breasts.

The pressure of Rhone’s body weight combined with the overfilled state of Rhone’s breast made Rhone’s nipple spray milk.

Journee jerked in surprise, but her head was going nowhere.  If anything, the jerk made the stream strengthen in power. Her movements were inadvertently like a calf bucking at the udder of the mother cow.

Milk rushed into Journee’s mouth and filled it.  Journee closed her throat and pushed her tongue frantically at the hard-spraying nipple.

Rhone said, “Yes, American slut!  Yes, lick the nipple!  Also, swallow the milk.  Swallow, or you will have a messy bed, and I will still have lots of milk.  You will swallow.  You will do it.  Do it the easy way by sucking on my hard nipple!”

Journee paused her fruitless efforts.  Frantically tongue poking wasn’t working, so she tried frantic thinking, but that was just as ineffective.

Streamlets of milk ran down from the corners of Journee’s already wide-open mouth.  Some milk was already in Journee’s hair.  The milk-filled breast pushed her mouth further open.  There was just a little room for overflow to pulse out and make a mess, but Journee was choked on tit and milk.

She nearly bit down.  But she didn’t want to hurt Rhone, and she bet Rhone wouldn’t give up because of a bite.  She’d use it as an excuse to punish the “insolent American.”  Then she’d force Journee to do it anyway.

The choice really was whether to do this the easy way or the hard way.  But either way, she had to do it.

The hard way or the sucking on a hard nipple way….

Journee felt intense frustration and a sense of defeat so powerful that they felt sexual. 

Breakfast in bed….