The Life of Koru, Chapter 43
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He was a dandy and a daredevil, an aristocrat and a rebel, a whirlwind of contradictions. He moved through life with the confidence of one who had never faced any consequences. Sir Julian Nnamani, the firstborn son of Massa Reginald, knew that he would one day inherit his father's vast plantations and all the prestige and power that came with them. He had always enjoyed visiting these plantations and asserting his authority in a way that was both playful and charismatic. The slaves knew him as Lil Massa and respected him just as much as they respected Massa Reginald. When he was younger, Sir Julian liked to play pranks on the slaves -- placing traps for them to step on, or making their life a nightmare with his electroshock toy pistols. Now that he was 18 years old, he took his role a little more serious. That year, taking advantage of a prolonged vacation that he had, Sir Julian brought a friend with him, Sir Kenneth to show him Massa Reginald's plantations. "The first thing you need to see is the breeding barn, Ken!" Sir Julian said. "It's better than a porn video, I assure you!" And he was not far from the truth. The breeding barns in the Black Empire were true fuck-factories, designed for the rapid and efficient reproduction of koru, using the principles of eugenics and slave selection. Sir Kenneth could see row next to row of wooden benches, and on each bench there was a pair of koru slaves, male and female, their bodies positioned in various stages of sexual ecstasy. The air was thick with the smell of sweaty sex, creating an intoxicating atmosphere that made him feel both aroused and uneasy. Sir Kenneth observed a naked muscular koru planting his seed inside a wumma. He was a rugged beast in rut and had no manners, no trace of civilization. Like an excited animal, he just grabbed his breeding partner from behind and humped frantically between the wumma's fleshy thighs, clenching and unclenching his butt rhythmically. Grunts and groans filled the breeding barn as other male slaves ravished their wummses in a similar way. The Black overseers watched with amusement and scorn. They slapped the buttocks of the male koru, urging them to continue. "Thrust deeper, you slaves! Plant your seed deeper!" they instructed. After a koru's cock erupted inside a wumma's pussy, filling it with cum, he was instructed to leave the barn or move to his next partner. There was no time for goodbye kisses or getting to know each other. The breeding barn worked on a tight schedule, so sex had to be performed in a quick and explosive way, much like every other work task that the slaves had to perform on the plantation. And during all this time, the Black overseers walked around shouting orders or relaxed in a corner, smoking, drinking whiskey and making fun of the slaves: "Look at that hunk! He's gonna rip that bitch in two with his cock! What a monster!" "How about that whitey over there? He tries really hard, but you can see he's a bottom from the way he moves!" "Yo, fucker! Can you move faster, boy?" Chief Mazi was among these overseers, when Lil Massa and Sir Kenneth approached him. "Sir Julian!" Chief Mazi said. "It's a nice day to see you! What are you doing in this very pornographic place?" "Browsing, as usual!" Sir Julian laughed. "Listen, my father said he will borrow me his chariot with those two ponies, Bruno and Angus, pulling it. I want them to wear ornate golden collars around their necks, but where can I get such collars? Having pony slaves wear golden items was considered a very bold statement made by their owners who wanted to show off their wealth and prestige. Sir Julian was aware of this trend and he also wanted to impress Sir Kenneth with it. "We should talk with the blacksmith slaves of the plantation!" Sir Mazi said. "I am sure they can help you with that!" Sir Julian smiled, then he turned towards the crowd of mating slaves and yelled: "Hey, slaves, don't you fucking recognize me or what? I'm Lil Massa! I'm back!" *** The rumor that Lil Massa was back for his vacation spread like wildfire among the plantation slaves. The little spoiled prince of Nnamani Plantations caused both admiration and terror. "Lil Massa is back and he gonna fuck us all!" one koru whispered. It was a vague and lazy formulation. How could a single Black man fuck almost 20 000 male koru slaves. Did he have 20 000 cocks for all of their asses? Impossible! But nevertheless, what that one koru said was repeated over and over by the other, until it became undeniable reality. The koru remembered all the impish pranks that Lil Massa used to make to laugh at their expense: • setting up booby traps that would release flour or other messy substances on them. • setting up foothold traps carefully concealed by grass, to immobilize their legs when they were working. • hiding their tools. • locking them inside storage sheds and watching them panic as they tried to get out. • making them fall in well-camouflaged trapping pits full of dung and shit. • lacing their food with strong laxative and watching them shit their asses off. • releasing pigs or chickens into their sleeping quarters, creating chaos and confusion.
And so on. And so on.
It was no wonder that Peon thought it was just another prank when Lil Massa informed him that he wants two golden collars for the ponies Bruno and Angus. It really sounded like a prank. Peon would do it, then Lil Massa would laugh in his face, calling him an idiot and telling him he had never asked for this. And why did Lil Massa ask Peon? Peon was just a novice blacksmith and he had just arrived back on the plantation. Gold was a metal he had never worked with. It was jewelry, it was `glimma'. Only the Black Lords wore gold. How did Bruno and Angus reach such a high status?
Peon sighed, looking at a detailed sketch Lil Massa had drawn on a piece of parchment. The ponies were beloved on the plantation, treated almost like royalty by Lil Massa, but gold collars? It seemed preposterous. Peon wiped his sweaty brow, the tropical heat mixing with his anxiety.
"I'se better not mess this up!" he muttered to himself, glancing around the blacksmith's workshop. It was a modest setup, equipped for iron and steel, but not for the delicate work gold demanded. Still, Peon had no choice but to proceed. The last thing he wanted was to anger Lil Massa and face his scorn or worse, his wrath.
Gathering his courage, Peon decided to start by familiarizing himself with the properties of gold. He knew it was soft and malleable, much different from the stubborn resistance of iron. He recalled a few stories from Smasher who had once dabbled in goldwork, and from these stories, he pieced together a rough idea of what to do.
But first, Peon needed to find gold.
"Ye're a playful little pup, aren't ye?" Scoutie said, starting to tickle Mulo.
"Tee-hee-noo! Ha-ha-hoo!" Mulo giggled uncontrollably while rolling on his back in the sand. The two slaves started to bond together and at night, Mulo cuddled in Scoutie's embrace. Despite the high temperatures of the day, the Sahara nights were surprisingly chilly due to the arid environment and the clear skies which enabled rapid cooling after the sun went down.
The slaves huddled in the sand as best they could and for Muro it was so reassuring to feel Scoutie's arms around him and his warm raspy breath at the back of the neck.
With each day, the army was moving closer and closer to Oasis Two Lakes, another outpost of the Caliphate koru. Cuzco wanted to conquer it at night, in the same way they had conquered Oasis Al-Nur.
"You know what you have to do, slaves! Go in and kick some ass!" Captain Toure encouraged them.
With this attitude in mind, the koru sneaked into Oasis Two Lakes in the stealthiest way possible.
They were ready to slaughter all the smallcocks who were sleeping on the ground. But the ground was empty, the oasis was empty. There was nobody around.
"Where the fuck is them all?" Scoutie asked.
This was the moment when they heard from above them:
"Allahu! For Allah!"