The air hung thick with tension as the sun dipped below the horizon, casting a foreboding pall over the Nguiko. The echoes of the day’s punishment still lingered on the breeze, haunting the memories of the young initiates. They huddled together in their shamba, their hearts heavy with fear, regret, and an undeniable sense of loss.
Ama, the formidable enforcer of the Nguiko program, lay shattered in a darkened corner, her body a testament to the price of defiance. Her cries, full of anguish and longing, had faded into uneasy silence in the early hours of the morning. But her lesson resonated within the hearts and minds of her flock.
The night closed in around the compound like a shroud, and the girls’ once-vibrant dreams were now tainted by the harsh reality of this new world. They tossed and turned on their sleep mats, their minds whirling with visions of failures and the dangers that lurked outside their sanctuary’s walls.
Wami, the softest among them, stared up at the thatched roof, her eyes glistening with unshed tears. “We cannot afford to falter,” she whispered to herself, her voice barely a whisper. “Lust is not enough to suffer what Ama has…”
The others nodded in agreement, their faces etched with newfound understanding. They knew Wami was right.
They had witnessed with their own eyes the destructive aftermath of Ama’s reckless misbehaviour with Kamwana. It shattered their childish illusions about ill-considered lust. Discipline could not be compromised for momentary lust.
As the moon cast its cold, silver light through the slanted windows, bathing the girls in a ghostly glow, they vowed to rededicate themselves to their training. They would not let their sister’s sacrifice be in vain.
In the darkness, their thoughts drifted back to their homelands, to the villages and families they had left behind. Memories of warm embraces and laughter flooded their minds, but they were tempered by the harsh reality of this new world. They knew that, as Nguiko women, they were here to pledge their lives to a greater cause.
–
The next morning, as the sun’s first rays painted the sky in hues of pink and gold, the girls gathered in the central courtyard. Ma stood before them, her eyes filled with a mix of sorrow and determination. “Today,” she began, her voice low but firm, “we continue your education. The path of the Nguiko is not an easy one, but it is necessary.”
With gentle guidance, Ma and a wounded Ama paired the women off, instructing them to explore each other’s bodies with gentle touches and careful strokes. Wami found herself facing Wamuyu, a quiet girl with doe-like eyes. Their hands trembled as they intertwined their legs between them. Wami’s hand traced the curves and planes of one Wamuyu’s form, feeling the warmth of skin beneath her fingertips. Wamuyu let soft gasps out at specific points and Ama instructed Wami to take note of these spots and go over them again. Before long, Wamuyu’s soft sighs filled the air as the pair of girls discovered her erogenous zones hidden behind her arms, over her ankles, and on her belly. Just as her breathing became laboured and heat began rising from her body, Wami was instructed by Ama to slow down. Her fingers moved slower now, with no map except the changing breath of Wamuyu. Slow and firm, her fingers found their way to the soft skin at the hip of her counterpart’s body. She licked her fingers and trailed down from her hip down to the divot at the base of Wamuyu’s thighs. Holding her breath, Wamuyu hoped that Wami’s fingers might find themselves ill-disciplined and follow the crest down her thighs. Wami’s fingers gripped hard into the delicate flesh of Wamuyu’s left thigh then moved past the rolled up edges of her underwear. Wamuyu breathed a sigh of relief as the barrier between the two girls remained. Moving back up again, Wamuyu relaxed into the rise of Wami’s touch as she made her way past her sensitive belly again and then came to a halt over her ribcage. Wami’s fingers were hot as she pressed all ten fingers over Wamuyu’s rib cage, applying firm pressure with her thighs between Wamuyu’s thighs. The pressure made Wamuyu’s body rise from the middle, curving upwards to meet Wami’s own. As she dipped back down, Wami slowed and made her touch more gentle. Edged and very aroused, Wamuyu bit her lip as she watched Wami come to a slow, finger-walking stop above her.
The lesson continued and Wamuyu began her turn. She began cross-legged between Wami’s legs. Wamuyu began forming small circles with her fingers on Wami’s chestnut skin, starting at the neck. Wai closed her eyes to savour the touch as she felt Wamuyu’s trembling fingers making their way down her body, her circles got bigger at some points and smaller and tighter at the folds and nooks. She traced down the curve of Wami’s clavicle and bent her head down to touch the delicate, translucent skin of her chest. Wamuyu drew a breath, breathing in tandem with Wami. Both girls felt the space between them narrow, figuratively and literally. Nothing held them apart but the drawstring, cowhide underwear that they wore.
As Wamuyu’s hands found a path over Wami’s breasts, she rubbed her nipples between her two fingers and gently tugged at them, creating heat and friction. Wami drew a breath in sharply, at the sudden mix of pain and pleasure. Wamuyu’s curious fingers continued their path down, skimming across Wami’s arm, and marvelling at the goose bumps that rose in the wake of her fingers. As both girls’ knowledge of the other grew, their lips met in tentative kisses – some clumsy, others igniting sparks of desire. The air grew thick with panting breaths and murmured encouragements as the other girls kissed, touched, and moaned as well. Ecstasy and heat enveloped the whole room. It would be this way for twelve more achingly edgy days of their training. Ma oversaw it all with a guiding but firm hand, until every girl was able to reach her orgasm through gentle touch alone.
To master touch, further explorations were encouraged, celebrated, observed. The girls learned the intricacies of the female anatomy through self-exploration and paired exploration, and found themselves awestruck by the various paths to orgasm and satiety. By the sixth lesson, each girl could make the other’s body ache. By the tenth, the girls could access multiple orgasmic states through passionate kissing, and carefully began to explore their own unique sex magic.
Through every orgasm, their lives became connected by the Nguiko, and the lifeblood of women before them. The orgasmic state became a spiritual state, where power arose at the girls’ feet. Slowly, the flames of their youthful, girly, folly flickered and died, replaced by the hot raging fire of the goddess. The power filled their veins, held their breaths, and guided their imaginations towards the unbridled energy of creation itself.
The Nguiko would have to endure.
–
In the weeks and months that followed, the girls honed their skills to a deadly edge. They mastered the secrets of the forest’s aphrodisiacs, becoming skilled at the powerful art of seduction and sensuality. They learned how to read their own bodies, how to elicit fear for maximum pleasure, and how to kill it with a single, silent arrow.
Ma watched them carefully, her heart swelling with love and pride. They were her legacy now, and she would protect them with her life.
But even as the Nguiko girls grew stronger, so too did the darkness creep closer. Father Cristas, the maleficent colonial priest, was growing relentless in his persecution. From miles away, his many spies canvassed nearby villages and markets for any sign of Ma and her elusive warriors.
One stormy night, Ma felt the hair on her neck rising in her sleep. She rattled awake from her fitful slumber to hear the faintest of whispers, the faintest of footfalls. In the distance, the forest stirred, as if in anticipation of the coming confrontation.
Ma rose silently from her pallet, careful not to wake the sleeping girls. Gathering her bow and quiver, she slipped out the door into the rain-soaked night.
The air was thick with tension, as if the trees knew that a confrontation was at hand. The clouds above seemed to billow and churn, as if caught in an unseen storm.
Ma crept through the wet underbrush, her bare feet leaving no trace of her passing. She had lived her entire life in these woods, and they were her ally tonight.
As she drew closer to the intruder, Ma’s heart pounded in her chest. The rain muffled her footfalls, but she knew that Father Cristas would be wary. He was cunning; as cunning as a snake.
At last, through a break in the undergrowth, she saw him.
Father Cristas knelt in the clearing ahead, his back to her. He was naked save for his clerical collar, the rain drenching his pale body. His hands trembled as he clutched a naked virgin, barely more than a girl herself.
Ma’s blood boiled with rage.
In one fluid motion, Ma cocked an arrow and drew back her bowstring. Her aim was good, and she could have ended the priest’s life right then and there. But she had a better idea.
Instead, she released the arrow. It thudded into the trunk of the tree just inches from the priest’s head, the impact sending bark and wood splinters flying.
Father Cristas whirled around, his eyes wide with terror.
“Leave this place,” Ma hissed from the shadows, her voice cold as the night wind. “And never return. Next time, I may not miss it.”
The girl in his grasp took the opportunity to escape, fleeing into the night.
For a long moment, the two adversaries stared each other down, their eyes locked in a deadly stalemate. Finally, Father Cristas fled, his naked body disappearing into the impenetrable darkness.
Ma emerged from the shadows, her chest heaving. The rain had plastered her clothes against her supple body, outlining her curves in the moonlight. She grabbed the discarded robes and draped them over her wet skin.
Her heart pounded in her chest as she vanished into the forest, her mission complete. Ma, the protector of her people, would strike fear into the hearts of their oppressors for a long time to come.
–
As she disappeared into the night, the spirits of the forest seemed to whisper their approval, foretelling a future of turmoil and rebellion, heralding the rise of a new age where the oppressed would no longer bow down before their oppressors.
As Ma returned to her hut, her body ached from the adrenaline of her encounter. The crackling fire warmed her cold skin as she entered, but it did little to quell the fire within her. Her thoughts lingered on the girl’s soft, nude form beneath the priest’s grip.
Slowly, she undressed, her drenched clothes pooling at her ankles, revealing her lithe, taut body. Ma got back on her mat as Ama’s hand silently reached for her. Ma delicately shuffled her body to within arm’s length of Ama. Reaching her, the hand trailed down Ma’s cold body, sliding down between her legs, to touch her over her clothes. Ma took the opportunity to rechannel the energy she had aroused to harm the invader. As she closed her eyes and enjoyed being touched, moisture slowly pooled between her legs as she lost herself in the erotic moment. After a few minutes, she felt the familiar rays of climax approach and more moisture squirt from her body. The hot liquid ran quickly through her and was caught in her underwear. Ma arched her back, feeling all of her anger being ejaculated out of her as Ama dutifully continued her caress. Soon, Ma cried out in ecstasy, her release rocking her to her core, as exorcism mixed with anger and horror in her body. None of the girls heard a thing.
Exhausted, Ma collapsed onto the furs, her heart pounding in her chest. Sleep came easily after that, but she knew there would be more battles to fight, and more wrongs to right in the days to come.
–
Not even two moons later, Ma awoke to the sounds of footsteps outside her hut. She sat up, instantly alert, adrenaline coursing through her veins again. The confrontation she’d been dreading had finally arrived.
Father Cristas stood before her house, his cold, judgmental gaze sending a chill down her spine. “We meet again, ma’am,” he said, his voice dripping with false concern. “I’m here to discuss your… unorthodox practices.”
Anger flared within her. “You call our sacred rituals unorthodox? What right do you have to judge us?” she spat.
The priest’s eyes narrowed. “I have been sent by the Almighty to rid this land of your kind of heathenry and sin,” he hissed. “Your witchcraft and debauchery will no longer poison the souls of our people.”
Ma’s heart raced as realization dawned on her. “You… It was you who tried to kill me all those years ago. Why? What do you want from me?”
Cristas’ lips curved into a dangerous smirk, his true and selfish intentions bubbling to the surface. “Your power, witch,” he sneered, “I’ve always craved it.”
Ma rose to her feet, her nakedness forgotten. “You’ll never have it, you beast.”
The priest laughed, and with a wave of his hand, the hut’s walls began to close in. “Oh, I think I will.”
Trapped, Ma’s heart quickened as she frantically searched for a way out of her desperate situation. The priest’s physicality left her defenseless and vulnerable.
Desperately, she grasped for her talismans, symbols of her deep connection to the forest’s ancient and mystical energy. They glimmered in the dim light, pulsing with untapped power, waiting for her command. Ma took a deep breath and channeled all of her inner strength into the talismans, preparing for a final magical showdown with the priest.
The room grew hotter, the air thick with tension. Sweat beaded on Cristas’ forehead as vines and roots began to creep through the hut’s cracks, wrapping themselves around his ankles and wrists. “What sorcery is this?” he cried.
Ma’s voice was cold as ice. “This is the power of the forest, and you have angered it. Prepare to face its wrath.”
The priest’s screams echoed through the hut as Ma’s magic continued to bind him. She watched with satisfaction as his struggles grew weaker and weaker, his once powerful body now nothing more than a toy in the hands of the forest.
But as the priest’s breaths became shallower, a sense of unease crept into Ma’s mind. She felt herself veering from the path of goodness, as she witnessed her power taking a life before her. The creator was becoming the killer.
With a final burst of effort, Ma commanded the vines to stop squeezing the priest. He fell to the ground with a thud, gasping for air. “You…you’re a witch,” he wheezed between breaths.
Ma knelt down beside him, still holding onto her talismans tightly. “Yes,” she said calmly, “and I will not let you harm my people any longer.”
The priest’s eyes widened in fear as he realized how powerless he truly was against Ma’s strength and magic. “Please…have mercy,” he begged.
Ma hesitated for a moment before making her decision. Her knife came so quickly that the priest did not feel the cut. Ma sliced his neck, ear to ear. With a final blood-choking gasp, Father Cristas’s lifeless body slumped to the ground, his arrogance and self-righteousness extinguished like a snuffed-out candle.
As the vines receded, Ma collapsed to her knees, her body shaking with both exhaustion and relief. Her heart pounded in her chest, and she struggled to catch her breath.
In the distance, the jungle seemed to sigh, as if content that justice had been done.
Ma knew that this was not the end. There would be others like Cristas, eager to stamp out the flames of their culture and beliefs. But for now, she had a brief moment of triumph. The Forest Lovers would live to see another day, and that was all that mattered.
A rustling in the trees outside made her look up, and she recognized the tell-tale signs of her girls returning. Her heart leaped with a different kind of anticipation. Tonight, they would celebrate. They had survived this battle, and tomorrow, they would face whatever the world threw at them, together.
She stood up, her body aching but her spirit lighter than it had been in a long time. Ma took one last look at the lifeless form of Father Cristas, then left the hut, her whip coiled at her side and her staff in her hand. The jungle awaited, and she had a feeling that their fight was far from over.
“Rise, my friends,” she commanded, her voice husky with desire. “We have won this battle, but our fight is not over. Tonight, we celebrate, and we feast. Tomorrow, we return to the jungle, stronger and more determined than ever before. Together, we will protect our way of life, and we will not back down.”
A thunderous roar of approval erupted from her girls, and Ma felt a shiver of anticipation run down her spine.
—
Wami threw herself into the last week of her training with a fervor she never knew she possessed. Under Ma’s watchful guidance, she blossomed into a beautiful, sensual woman, her body aching with the power she wielded through it.
The day of her final graduation ceremony approached, and Wami could hardly contain her excitement. Tonight, she would shed her old skin and emerge, like a butterfly, reborn. The thought of the challenges and pleasures that awaited her sent a shiver of anticipation down her spine.
In the depths of the jungle, the Nguiko sisterhood gathered around the fireside, their robed bodies glistening with sweat and anticipation. The air was thick with the heady scent of incense and the intoxicating aroma of lust.
Ma, now adorned with the fowl feathers and ochre paint of the House of Mumbi, stood before her initiates, her eyes blazing with triumphant fire. “Tonight,” she intoned, her deep, resonant voice carrying through the clearing, “you face your final test.”
One by one, the girls stepped forward, their hearts pounding in their chests like the thunderous drums that reverberated through the night air. They had all been assigned a different spy or priest to seduce and defeat, their target chosen for them by Ma herself.
Wami’s turn came, and she strode forward with a confidence she never knew she possessed. Ma pressed a small, intricately carved amulet into her trembling palm. “The time has come,” she whispered in her ear, her breath hot and electric on her neck. “Tonight, you will become more than you ever dreamed possible. You become the spear of our house, the sword of our people. You become a woman.”
With those words ringing in her ears, Wami set off into the jungle, her body stressed with anticipation and excitement. Ahead, her destiny awaited her, and she would not falter. Tonight, Wami Wanjiru would be reborn.
The night was alive with the cries of passion and the screams of the damned as each Nguiko woman spread their webs of seduction and power. In the days to come, the balance of power in their holy war would shift forever in their favour, and it would all have begun with this single, fateful night.
Their reign had just begun.
