Laylonee, Last Slave Queen of Northern Amazonia

By Cal Pflugrath

Laylonee describes an amazing South American society wiped out thirteen thousand years ago by a comet strike. The survivors struggle against incredible odds

• Language: English
• Publisher: Lulu.com
• Release date: Jan 12, 2019
• ISBN: 9780359308309

Book preview

Sect.

Part One

In the lands of men

Chapter One

The Corn Maiden

Our village mystic, upon tossing the sacred bones at my birth, shook her head and pronounced, Laylonee is marked for an interesting life and a spectacular death. Then she walked away, head shaking and muttering in her usual obscure way.

Ten years later warriors of the Transkek tribes overwhelmed our men and enslaved all Irwadi women and children. My five-year-old twin brother and sister, considered too young for usefulness, were fed alive and screaming to their starving dogs. Village children circled about that dog pen enjoying the show.

Mom was deemed a suitable sacrifice. Two weeks after our capture executioners drug her into the village square cruelly putting mother to death squirming naked on a sharp stake. The Transkek cheered and danced about as drums and lutes played a wild tune. Their warriors and boys ravaged mom as she slowly slid down that pole up her bottom. My master, Fedrem, made me watch both events. I silently observed and prayed the mystic might be wrong. She wasn’t.

For the twins their end came quick. Those dogs were ravenous and knew to tear out a victim’s throat. Rapid blood loss led towards unconsciousness and they were just meat.

Mom’s finish would be a different story. Hung above the sharp stake by her wrists tormentors gradually lowered my mother inch be painful inch. The crowd laughed while she grimaced and groaned, bare feet kicking out in a pathetic frenzy.

Ordered to watch, I focused on those dancing feet, avoiding eye contact with mom. Many of her audience smiled at me, watching for some typical horror filled reaction I did my best resisting. To this day when confronting traumatic circumstances my mind continues displaying that odd image of bare kicking feet.

Two years later, passing Sentro the Transkek medicine man’s shelter, ears heard my master laughing. The medicine man pronounced, Your Laylonee will make a fine Corn Maiden. You swear she is untouched by man?

Yes, Fedrem insisted. Though she flowered two moons ago I have been saving the pretty pig for this honor. Is the price still three gold rings?

If this female’s virtue is intact. Bring your thrall before me tonight so I can confirm her fit for sacrifice.

I’d heard enough. Fighting down a rising terror I hurried home, depositing my firewood by the cooking fire.

The Corn Maiden Ceremony was conducted every new year right before spring planting. The chosen virgin was staked out on a mounting block for all Transkek men and boys to deposit their seed up various openings.

After everyone was satisfied and sexually drained their virgin would be skinned alive by the medicine man. He would then don her flesh and begin the slow painful butchering ceremony.

Once the meat and organs had been removed her bones would be ground into a fine power. Somewhere along the ceremony’s gruesome progression the sacrifice would die.

In a spring full moon’s light her remains would be scattered around their planting fields. That girl’s pure soul and the seed of those ravagers might insure a good fall harvest.

I had observed last year’s Corn Maiden Ceremony and knew what was ahead. The screaming virgin lasted several hours. Mom’s finish came to mind.

That evening I found myself in the medicine man’s hut tied out spread eagle. As a slave in upper Amazonia I was kept naked, not even allowed the felt or animal skin loin cloth most Transkek wore. This signified my sub-human status.

Though my master’s people didn’t practice cannibalism they were food opportunists. Meat was available with pigs, chickens and dogs. There were also various jungle animals, but in hard times the Transkek would not hesitate to pick a slave for the village’s dining enjoyment.

I did wear a leather slave collar with attached leash and leather wrist and ankle bracelets featuring affixed straps. This way I could be quickly tied out for punishment or sport which ever my master felt was more appropriate.

The medicine man poked me open and smiled, nodding at my master. She will do fine. He handed over the three gold rings. I was untied and Fedrem led me silently to my sleeping stall alongside his huts.

Stall door bolted shut, he looked through the narrow slit at me and said, You will stay here until it is your turn for the gibbet-of-love three days hence.

I nodded and sat in my stall’s straw. As you wish, master. I will not disappoint when my time on the mounting block arrives.

Fedrem frowned. I expected more fright from an Irwadi child such as you.

Fear will not save me or change my fate. Though this one does not look forward to dying I have expected it since my capture. These eyes saw how mother and those siblings were murdered. Why should my ending be any less agonizing?

That master huffed and walked into the hut jangling those three gold rings in his right hand. I didn’t get any dinner that night. Fedrem apparently saw no profit feeding a doomed slave.

Around midnight I woke, a stick poking me in the ribs. I looked up to the face of Fedrem’s fourteen-year old son, Domael. He put a finger before his lips signaling my silence and helped me from that now open stall.

In near full moonlight Domael led to the river bank and his canoe. Ordering me onboard the craft he quickly shoved off and we set out down river.

Mind a wild mix of emotions though unsure what to think, I felt hopeful this was rescue and not a journey towards an even darker fate. Domael always treated me kindly and seemed interested in something more than a future sexual plaything.

There’s food in the front of our boat, he reported, rowing us away from the village. You must be hungry. Eat up. You will need your strength. We have to move fast and in an unexpected direction.

Thank you, Domael. I am forever in your debt. Why are you risking yourself for me?

The young man smiled. I have always been fond of you. When I heard what Father planned my mind could not face that possibility. You are dear to my heart and with time I hope your affections will be shared.

I reached out and embraced him tight. Oh, Domael. Make me your slave for life!

He shook his head, saying: I do not seek some slave but a wife and lover. That is how I will be with you, Laylonee. If you will have me.

We kissed. Then I nodded my approval to his proposal.

Good, he insisted. Now eat something. We shall soon be running through the wilds. Hunters may be after us at dawn if not sooner. Leave your slave bindings in the boat. You should never need them again.

As I ate Domael maneuvered our boat over towards the eastern shore. Thick jungle obscured muddy banks. A few miles downstream he pulled the boat into this river’s side channel. That tributary meandered off southeast through dense undergrowth.

We traveled several more miles by river when Domael rowed us to the south bank and helped me out. He unloaded two light packs then sank the boat in waist deep water.

With that we set out southeast towards a distant sunrise. Walking along Domael handed me weapons. They consisted of a foot-long obsidian knife with smooth bark handle and four-foot wooden spear almost my height.

Do you have any fighting experience? he asked.

I nodded. My Father was a warrior. He taught me how to kill with a knife or spear. Do you think Transkek hunters will find us?

Domael sighed, "You never know. I presume they would believe we went in the other direction towards Irwadi lands. A good tracker If Dad finds our trail it is likely he shall follow for some distance.

"There is also the chance encounter with large jungle cats or terror birds. I’ve seen some land fowls tall as a house that would take us both to bring down or drive off.

"Our course heads for neutral territory of the Sangea peoples. They have outlawed slavery. Their authorities will not permit the Transkek to recapture you for ritual slaughter.

We are a day’s hike from their lands. Once there you should be safe.

What do we do then? I sheepishly asked. The wide world seemed a frighteningly large place full of unknowns.

Domael smiled and kissed my cheek. Don’t worry. You and I will be fine. This is a great adventure we are beginning together. I won’t let anything bad happen to you, Laylonee.

We walked on in silence through thick foliage. Though there appeared no path my guide didn’t falter, seeming to know his way through this trackless wilderness.

As the sky lightened those night animal sounds were replaced by daytime fauna cries and squawks. It also became easier to see what both of us were doing.

The landscape began to climb, gradually at first and then much more rapidly.

Three hours after sunrise we ascended out of that jungle topping a small grass covered hill. Stopping there Domael and I enjoyed breakfast while surveying the surrounding countryside.

Some few miles south our river or another tributary swirled along in a slow current. Looking west, north or east, the jungle marched endlessly on. Our little hill seemed to swim in a vast green and golden sea.

It’s beautiful, I remarked gazing towards the distant horizon. I wish we could stay here together forever, Domael, just the two of us living far away from people and their problems."

Smiling back he kissed me saying, In the faraway east you and I will find another hill in a boundless green sea. There, we shall make our home and found a family.

I kissed this boy and felt myself become aroused by his handsome bodies’ closeness . My tongue parted Domael’s lips and our passions flowed together into a stream of joined desires. Before I knew it we lay in soft grass.

Gently guiding his stiffening manhood into moist loins I gave out a slight gasp as he took my virginity. The pain was overwhelmed by incredible lust for him. I sucked and licked his hard nipples, tongue flittering while ankles wrapped about the small of my lover’s lower back. Quickly Domael and I built to a wonderful joined climax. In love’s afterglow we drifted off to a deep sleep that should never have been taken.

Several hours later our minds woke to the disturbing sound of not so distant drums. Up like a shot Domael and I scanned the surrounding green sea. To our dismay there appeared small smoke columns rising in four distinct points around us.

By their broken patterns both of us knew they were hunting signals and we didn’t wonder long about their intent.

Six big canoes pulled up at the riverbank where another smoke column rose. That was also those drums origin. In all four directions Domael and I heard approaching voices speaking Transkek.

My stern-faced lover lifted his spear preparing to fling it at the first enemy. I gently touched his shoulder and shook my head.

There is another way. Tie my hands behind and noose me. Tell them you saw the escape and tracked me down.

What about your lost virginity? he asked.

I de-flowered myself wishing to defy their ritual. Tie me quick. It’s our best chance. Another opportunity may come for us. Please, Domael!

He grimly nodded. Bound and noosed, I submissively kneeled and began crying in convincing fashion.

Please, Domael! I wailed. Give me a chance to run! Let me die with a spear in my back instead of that butcher block! I do not wish to be a Corn Maiden! I beg you!

Hearing my terrified wails the stalking hunters rushed our hilltop. A dozen men surrounded us, Fedrem in their lead.

Domael handed him the neck rope and smiling said above my continuing sobs for mercy, I heard her escape and swam in pursuit. She led me a long chase but was finally overtaken on this knoll.

My master smiled and patted his son’s shoulder. Well done. You shall be rewarded with the first dance mounting little miss Irwady run-away pig.

Yanked up by my leash I was led downhill towards the riverbank. A grinning medicine man waited with several others. Sentro ordered men to grab my ankles and hoist me.

He spread quaking loins and howled with anger at my lost virginity.

I whimpered; A stick took me hoping for a quicker death than the ritual! Please I beg you! Kill this one some other way! I will gladly face it!

Sentro smiled at my obvious terror. This was how a fugitive Corn Maiden would be expected to act. "You will not be that lucky, child. Because no man has taken you the ritual continues.

Since this ceremony says nothing about other torments for the victim, at tonight’s camping we may have a few surprises for our reluctant slave pig."

Paddling up river was a gradual and ponderous process. Though the stream moved slow this current was strong. A man could have easily out walked our progress along the shoreline.

Domael rowed in another boat. I was left alone, dreading tonight’s punishment and subsequent ceremony.

My mind still