CHAPTER 343: • IRONSIDE [18+]

Eventually it was Inaia that steered the Red Virgin to a remote island, capturing the looks of many black eyes as she did, for they had never seen a woman handle wooden bars so good. And such a white woman too. As for the Sgt. Eotigan, he sat back as the vessel streamed to shore and studied his new brethren with calm yellow eyes.

"Is he a Djinni?" One hunk debated with a close brother. "Me not sure, man. But surely he is nat mortal man," the second man replied.

The 300 all sat on places in the open deck of the Red Virgin. Some, on barrels punctured by iron bullets of the gunfight earlier. Many, on the stiff, headless bodies of the slavers they’d killed. To each their own. But one thing their gazes all shared was the one enigma who’d freed them. It wasn’t just those two men who were talking about Eotigan. To a Moor with midnight skin, his confusion was why this red-haired soldier could not maybe be their Messianic prophet—maybe with a poor choice in jobs—but still.

Eotigan was pretty aware of their staring but he really wasn’t concerned what they did next with their emancipation. Really. All he was concerned about was that baddie. That stupid fucking hot yellowbone!

Just in one hour—and a massacre—she had divined his soul. She and her trigger pull. ’I mean the way she held that BIG GUN in the first place should’ve told me everything I needed to know. SHE WILL BE SUCH A LAY! Oh Lucifer! She’s...bad ting gal.’ Dream circles showed in Eotigan’s golden eyes as his inner perv was salivating for some slim-thick goodness. ’—I mean, why the fuck not? She’s already naked, yeah?’

The fair-colored girl, whose name he didn’t yet know had passed by where he sat once. He was waiting for her to pass again so he could take his shot—no pun intended. Meanwhile, her 299 brothers and sisters all thought he was roaming spirit of Mmuó, brooding on how to get back to the spiritland. And not how he was going to bang the shit out of their queen Sheba.

THUNK!

The Red Virgin struck land abruptly.

"Dry land!" Inaia shouted.

As soon as the great ship was close enough to the brown sands of shore, the men and women began to climb down the long sides of the vessel, not bothering with docking planks or rope ladders as they howled and splashed for the sunny banks. They were now fully able to bask in the fulfillment of murdering their punishers with their own hands. Eotigan watched them splash away. Through the corner of his eyes, he saw Inaia abandon the steering and make for him. She stepped over a corpse in burned clothes as she did.

The ship smelled like gunpowder and blood, and most of it blown up or smoking. She wasn’t sure the Red Virgin had another voyage in her.

Smiling, the dreaded beauty dropped her sweet behind next to her Lord [Host], Eotigan.

"You think she’s gonna pass by here again?" Eotigan was thinking out loud.

Inaia massaged his broad shoulders as her smile grew knowingly. "Probably not, my ruthlessly handsome Lord host. She will be with the others, frolicking in the waters below us." She took his one hand and put it to the hollow of her smooth thighs. "Is my Lord’s rod heavy?"

"Damn straight it is." He caught her look. "What? You’re the one who suggested she’d make a fine concubine. And FINE she is! Whew! Did you see her body? Damn! You know she likes ’em fruits. I just hope she really likes bananas too. You know what I’m saying?"

Inaia broke into giggling at that second. She couldn’t help it.

Laughing through speech, she said, "I do know what you’re talking about. But I also did put up this:"

[Ding!]

Eotigan heard the ping, and the bluish panel slide before his eyes, in front of Inaia’s lovely face as she was watching him. This was her, controlling the notifications, speaking in his mind. Soft wind feathered in her thick bronze locs. Her face was translucent behind the screen.

[SYSTEMS BRIEF | NOTARY TWO]

[You have achieved 3 Missions!]

[MISSION I: Make a pirate MILF beg to steer your rudder.]

[MISSION II: Commit ass-play with a Governor’s wife.]

[MISSION III: Silence a siren’s singing with nothing but your meaty, abyssal rod.]

Eotigan touched the air, pushing the lit screen to the side.

"These are my missions?" His lynx eyes shone. "Are you kidding me, Subserviená?! Holy rolling shit! If I knew these were the missions, I’d have viewed the fuckin’ notifications way earlier. I love Intra-volution! . .Volution! Volution!! Volution!!!" His voice echoed down the sides of the ship. Inaia just watched his happy face and got seriously hot. The seventh son of Hel happy would be celebrated like a sinner’s salvation if they’d been down there. Inaia retracted the screen with an easy blink and shifted closer to Eotigan. His hand submersed in her thighs felt wonderful. Damn her first-mate tights.

—Ahem!

Eotigan’s head flew up fast.

It was the delicious redbone.

She looked between him and Inaia; two white people she didn’t dislike. And she said softly, "you coming? I hear this island’s got warm springs."

She shrugged. Without waiting for a reply, she leaped smoothly off the vessel’s deck, landing on the ashen sands below like it was nothing. But not before the naughty devil behind caught a glimpse of that dewy, wet spot framed by her grabable buttocks in her jump. Eotigan turned swiftly to Inaia; she was already smiling. He smirked. "This day just keeps getting better and better."

For a demon, yes. His dawn had begun with blood and bullets, and dusk held the promise of sex. . .in a warm fucking spring.

Eotigan leaped out that ship like he was on his way to Helfest.

For three short minutes, he and Inaia followed footprints from the outer banks to a dense crop shaven off the main beach by a cluster of tall coconut trees. The air was considerably fresher and less salty as Eotigan pushed through a hanging frond. And like a green curtain into Eden, there were the 300. The men were gathered into one area of the clarion stream, breaking and passing up coconuts. The women, on the shallower side of the spring, made small talk and scrubbed the clothes they’d pulled off the slavers corpses clean; Inaia and Eotigan watched the blood hiss and steam in the warm water and run down-river in a crimson blur. Everybody was naked in the warm springs.

Eotigan looked behind and couldn’t see the Red Virgin. This was their own watery El dorado.

"Hey." He heard soft chewing and looked down. The fair girl, again, wonderfully so. He licked his lips as she passed he and Inaia two broken halves of a coconut. For some reason she offered him the slice with the milk still in it; how’d she guess he was very lactose tolerant. Just ask his mum. "Come." The girl said. "You are a private man. I see this. You don’t want to show."

Her grey eyes fell down his clothes briefly. Eotigan could only understand her speak because Inaia had intelligently put up Habazhi translation in his minds-eye. Many dark men waved his way as he passed. They sat on little rocks, their strong bodies shiny in the wafting steam. This was the shower they all needed—especially after cutting off heads.

The blood gush from a severed neck was like a fountain.

Just...plah plah. Everywhere.

Both Eotigan and Inaia were one step behind as the fair-skinned dame led them further south, downstream, to a spot blocked out by a huge rock.

"Holy shit." Inaia exclaimed, seeing the water here. The deeps was iridescent. It looked like fae had once bathed in it. Or sirens.

The girl dived in. She swum laps in circles, watching Eotigan and Inaia undress and join her.

"You are beautiful people." she commented, the shiny water dripping in her short hair. This part of the island spring was shaded by colossal mangroves. Shadows danced over her delectable flesh.

Eotigan made his position at the bankside, with his back to the large rock, both his arms up and outstretched on either side of him. He let the water play over his chest. His balls were happy. His dick, more. There were two mad hot girls less than ten feet away from him. He kept his gold eyes easy and let Inaia do the talking. "So—" his Subserviená stood in the water, rinsing and squeezing out her long dreadlocks, "what’s your name then girlie?"

Inaia’s lovely voice pitch surprised the redbone to blinking. And Eotigan did catch her fierce iris dip into the creamy valley of his subservient’s bosom. What? Inaia did have amazing breasts.

"Ironside." The girl responded solidly.

She swam another fast lap before their eyes. "Ironside?" Inaia’s big hair was a sexy curtain over her face, the locs more orange than brown in the shade. "Your name is Ironside?"

"No. We...are Ironside. I, my brothers and my sisters." The dame had stopped swimming and just floated close to them. Close enough.

"So you don’t have a name?"

"None of us do."

Inaia’s fine eyes trailed to Eotigan up against the ledge, knowing exactly what he was thinking. His [psyche bridge] was open. ’I mean the thought of naming a bitch is appealing as fuck.’ She listened to him say.

[Yes, Lord host.]

Inaia then returned her attention back to this new concubine-in-the-making. She dipped into the spring, butterfly-stroking her way closer to this gorgeous, nameless redbone. "Why do you not have a name? Were you not given? Ever?" She swirled around the girl.

"Never." Grey eyes, very much the color of crude iron slowed on her; the fair dame darted her stare between both Eotigan and Inaia. She started an explanation even the Apollyon in all his travels and studies—and body count—had never heard of. She said, "the Ironside are the finest Nubian warforce of the known world. We are 300 men and women. We have been brought up as a unit from our first breath, given no personal names so we would only bear identity as a collective. We have served many masters. We have waged many wars. We have killed and executed. We have cultivated our Chi of the Iron god, Ogún. We are Ironside.

There’s a reason we weren’t overtly injured or sold off one by one, because we are a unit. A troop of warriors. We are worth much more together. Our captors knew that."

The girl stopped speaking and moved in the water for Eotigan. "Ironside thanks you." She began to rise slowly, offering inch by inch of her wet, fit body. Her titties were the shit. Her glowing skin a goddamn jewel of the island. "Ironside offers their services."

[DING!]

[Accept this concubine of Cyrene?]

[Y/N?]

The beauty, not knowing what was going on Eotigan’s head and why he was taking so long to respond, said, "What? You’ve got an army back in your country?"

Eotigan gave a loose smile. If only this heavenly fair-skin knew. He had armies!

This lush slave-warrior rose higher still in the spring. She was so close Eotigan could breathe the sandalwood in her light skin. She kept rising – steam rising with her, water falling in rivulets down her sumptous body. He wanted to lick her everywhere. Mostly them bouncy breasts! In his head, Eotigan would burn another mighty ship to touch her. This girl was shaped for hands. His motherfucking hands.

She now rose above him, standing in the spring. Her navel just about kissed his nose.

And Eotigan could see the glory of her sex.

He marvelled in the smell of her.

The damp hair over that sweet and dangerous spot was curling, limestone vapors ascending up her yellow thighs. He knew. She knew. It was that time.

Why else would she bring her pussy so close to his face?

Then she said it—and Eotigan couldn’t make this up if he tried, "I have been three moons on dat ship without no man. You are beyond perfect to satisfy my deep hunger."

Her breathy words came upon Eotigan from above, like a sinful gospel. What he was hearing was, "fuck me out of this dry spell."

Without waiting one more tortured second, Eotigan took hold of her wide hips. And just as he dropped his lips to the inside of her thigh, he heard the pinging in his head.

[DING!]

[NAME THIS CONCUBINE]

[Y/N?]

His luminous flaming iris—hot with dark need—slid around his slave-warrior’s slim curves to the white goddess behind, roving the water, watching hotly. Inaia’s breasts were fat and heavy in lust. Her [Host] was about to get his fuck on. In the warm spring, her dreads was like a slick cobra sloshing in plain sight. "Please fuck her, Lord host," she begged.