"These moments turn into memories and
I can feel you connect
Wonder if you'll remember me
Easily, I forget…"
Alfa Mist & Emmavie – "Easily, I Forget"
Hadiza K'imathi stood in front of the exact spot where N'Jadaka Udaku had fallen to his grim demise. The University class tour continued on with her Level 4 classmates and Hadiza used her sandaled foot to kick about the offerings of flowers and sweets left to appease the spirit of the Tyrant King.
N'Jadaka Udaku—Killmonger—had a brief reign of two weeks, and when Hadiza was a child, she remembered the way her country, the royal family, in particular, tried to erase his presence from the history books. They interred his remains at the Hall of Black Panthers inside the hallowed Necropolis City. Killmonger's foreign blood made him a pariah in the Udaku lineage, but the royal house could not banish his memory completely. Wakandan historians fought for two decades in order for the Tyrant King to have his rightful place in antiquity. Shamed into admitting that her family had done nefarious things to Prince N'Jobu and his offspring, Princess Shuri became an Udaku apologist. The Princess had been a mere teenager when Killmonger reigned, but now she was entering middle age, and a popular TV host caught her in a candid moment when the upsurge of Killmonger curiosity came into fashion once they put his history back into the official canon.
"My family did not handle that situation well. My father made poor choices and my brother, the King, has done his best to rectify our sordid past. We were wrong in how we treated Prince N'Jadaka."
Hadiza watched the replay of that interview at the start of her university career, and it instantly made her change majors from military history to cultural anthropology with an emphasis on ethnology. Fascinated with Killmonger and his Black American background, she became intrigued with why his father, Prince N'Jobu, preferred to help Black Americans and go against his own people. Within the last three years, books were finally being published on the intranet about the entire tragic story. Killmonger had become a cult figure.
In the worst way lately.
A new social drug of choice had sprung up in Wakanda among the border birnins.
Rumored to have destroyed all the heart-shaped-herb to control the power of the Black Panther, and end the ability of anyone else to use it anymore, the Tyrant King failed in decimating the plant. Spiritual elders saved plenty of seeds, and the purple herb flourished once more. But stolen genetically mixed offshoots of the plant proliferated among the alternative crowds last year. People smoked it to get high and have visions of Killmonger.
But something horrific came from that.
Stories floated around about people smoking the herb and becoming possessed with the Tyrant King's spirit and lashing out with deadly intent. A rash of brutal murders took place throughout various birnins moving from the outskirts to the major metropolitan areas. Young men and women claimed to have taken the herb and said the name of Killmonger several times in a mirror much to their regret. From what Hadiza could gather, Killmonger had become a Bogeyman figure, an excuse for Wakandans on the edge to butcher fellow citizens. Some used large knives to resemble the spear that pierced his chest. Others fashioned panther claws to rip through flesh. Sadly, there were some people found dead in their homes, their chests ripped to shreds.
Fascinating.
Hadiza boarded a stinger transport that flew her classmates to the major event, a rare excursion into the Hall of Black Panthers. Her hands and feet tingled with excitement as she watched the shiny city below her glide by and when they approached the landing port in Necropolis City, she had her kimoyo beads ready to snap pictures.
A Tour Guide boarded the transport carrying a small black box.
"Kimoyos, please."
Hadiza grumbled. They weren't allowed to snap holographs. She filed behind a solemn line as they were led by Dora Milajes-in-training after discarding their beads.
"That will be you soon!" Mezinde squeaked grabbing onto Hadiza's arm.
She tried not to frown at her friend.
Her acceptance letter into the Dora Milaje Corps was a lifelong dream for her parents. Hadiza's mother, Sauda, had been a Dora for the Queen Mother Ramonda and Princess Shuri until she retired to raise a family. Hadiza's yearning to study history and Killmonger stemmed from Sauda because her mother had fought Killmonger to protect King T'Challa. Sauda watched a dear friend die from the Tyrant King's hand.
Hadiza wanted to follow in her grandmother's footsteps with an academic life that called to her innate interest in the Wakandan past through its colorful nobility. All Wakandans had to take part in compulsory military service, and nepotism fast-tracked Hadiza into a plum entry-level assignment. Protecting Wakandan history in Necropolis City. Once she completed her studies and graduated at the end of the term, she would go through intense basic training for nine months and then begin her military assignment to protect the halls they walked through now for two years.
There were hushed tones entering the great hall. An enormous wall-sized painting of King Bashenga, the first Black Panther, greeted their eyes.
Dull-looking man. That's what Hadiza thought of the picture. His tomb sat pristinely and protected behind vibranium shields, and they dragged along the lengthy cavernous halls taking peeks at other Black Panthers throughout time. Until they entered a new section.
A young King T'Chaka peered down at them from the wall in an ostentatious painting. His tomb was grander than all the others. Hadiza tapped her foot lazily and turned her head to see how much further they would have to walk to reach Killmonger's tomb—
Holy Bast.
Air caught in her throat and she tumbled on watery legs over to an alcove that housed the Tyrant King. Her mouth went lax as she gazed at the shimmering painting of Killmonger sitting on the throne in Birnin Zana, the Golden City. His brash brown eyes mesmerized her. So lifelike. So piercing. She almost fell to her knees to prostrate herself before him. No wonder her people gave into his takeover twenty-five years ago. The painting was so dynamic that tears pricked her eyes. How could her mother turn against this man?
Killmonger's tomb was painted in a silvery-purple color only found in the Jabari Mountains. The rest of her class joined her as they followed the guide inside to marvel at the sarcophagus of pure gold that Killmonger rested inside of.
The Golden Jaguar.
She reached out to touch it, but the once invisible force field swirled into view, and she pulled her fingers back from the pulsing blue vibranium light. The walls in the tomb carried holographs of him when he was alive, even one of his military service in America. The family encased his Golden Jaguar suit behind a glass partition and from the size of it, the man was built like a massive God. Her heart pounded in her chest and she had to step out of the tomb to breathe easier.
Bast! How she wished she had her kimoyo beads so she could snap a holograph of his throne painting. Wide-legged stance. Black robes revealing a scarred sculpted chest of shiny lumpy skin. The gold panther teeth sharp and menacing. The determination of the grip his fingers had on the throne's armrests. The onyx and silver royal ring gleaming on his hand. Hadiza caught herself panting and hustled her way back toward the exit. Her eyes burned with tears and her teeth ground tightly together at the molars.
Once she was outside alone in a corner, she slipped two right fingers down on the outside of her long skirt and pressed on the thumping of her clit. The beat there was just as steady as the one in her chest. Clamping her thighs together, she shut her eyes and smashed her lips together as a powerful orgasm ripped through her. She had to press her hands against the wall to hold herself up.
When control of her faculties returned, she wiped the perspiration off of her face with the hem of her shirt.
"Are you okay, Hadiza?"
Her professor touched her shoulder, and she jumped in her own skin.
"Oh, sorry Professor Kasongo. It was very stuffy in there and I needed some air."
Hadiza followed her group back to the transport. They would return to the University in time for lunch. The flight back was filled with wonder. Flushed faces were on several women. Even Mezinde looked out of sorts, biting on her bottom lip and worrying the front of her tunic with nervous hands. Hadiza was pleased that she wasn't the only person affected by the sight of the Tyrant King. She ditched the rest of her classes to go conduct some more interviews for her final paper on Killmonger. "The Myth and Madness of the Tyrant King" was the title.
It was time to find some first-hand accounts of the Killmonger urban legends for her paper.
###
The woman openly flirted with Hadiza.
Sitting in the quiet off-campus café, Hadiza stirred a rich hot ikhofi and caramel cream beverage with a tiny silver spoon. The woman seated across from her, Usumalo, was slender with bushy blue hair and multiple face piercings that rivaled the four Hadiza had in her own face. What was really striking about her was the gold grill on her bottom teeth fashioned to replicate the Tyrant King's gold slugs.
"You must promise to keep their names anonymous. My readers share with me their most intimate secrets and I would hate for them to be arrested for partaking in onsami," Usumalo said.
The purple.
That's what they called the hybrid drug.
"I am discreet and will assign fake names for my study."
She swiped her finger across her slim tech pad and transferred the photos she took during her walking tour and information gathering on the border of Birnin Djata. She found Usumalo on the dark web and had to show her proof that she was a graduate student writing a thesis paper for her university.
"Rich girl," Usumalo said when she saw what school Hadiza attended.
"Just born lucky," Hadiza said.
She stared at the pictures of graffiti scrawled on public buildings that said: "Killmonger Lives!" "Long Live The Tyrant King!" along with very impressive renderings of Killmonger's likeness sketched on the inside of abandoned structures that the woman showed her. There were panther claws spray-painted in gory, bloody detail disemboweling torsos in some shots.
Usumalo turned up the charm.
"If you are open to it, I could take you to dinner and then introduce you to a survivor."
Hadiza was interested in spending more time with the woman. She was sexy and streetwise unlike the classmates she had to rub shoulders with in the suburbs. But she was more interested in talking to a victim who escaped.
"I like ugali, curried potatoes, and grilled fish. If you throw in honey wine, we can make it a date," she said.
Usumalo grinned and swiped a loose curl from her forehead.
"Perfect," she said.
They caught the subway and ended up walking half a mile past prefects and the underclass areas until they reached a two-story four-plex at the top of a steep hill. Hadiza was out of breath and a bit perturbed that they didn't arrive at a fancy restaurant. She wiped the sweat from her face and adjusted the ties on her sandals. Usumalo reached out and stroked Hadiza's chin.
"I promise, you will be fed well."
Hadiza stared at the entryway to a unit. She made sure to leave on her kimoyo tracker in case things went left. Anyone who knew about onsami and the Killmonger craze had to have some dark side to them.
"I live here. Alone," Usumalo said.
Entering the flat, Hadiza was pleasantly surprised at the grandeur of the interior. If the outside of the complex looked worn and weary, the inside was pristine. Sophisticated. Lovely artwork peppered the walls and there were beautiful leafy plants about and brand-new furniture.
"Make yourself comfortable. I will order our meal in and we can wait for Tizini to arrive later."
Usumalo had a very impressive wine bottle display in her living room. Three different kinds of honey wine were for Hadiza's choosing. They drank, talked, and when the food arrived, Usumalo plated their meal and it was better than any fancy restaurant they could've gone to. Three hours had passed, and it was beyond dark outside when Tizini knocked on the door.
"Come in," Usumalo said.
Tizini's timid frame wandered in covered in a heavy dark jacket. Desperate eyes took in the residence and he sat with his body held in a rigid stance. His coarse hair was a mass of disorienting bright white coils. His skin was dry, flaking, and loose around his face and neck. Hadiza tapped her kimoyo to record him.
"This is Hadiza. She will keep your name private. Tell her what happened to you."
She passed the man a glass of wine and he gulped it down with jittery fingers.
"We were at a party… my friends and I. We scored a few ounces of onsami and drank hard liquor. It was a fun night… lively. Until they started telling the stories…"
He shivered. Licked his dry cracked lips and fixed his eyes on Hadiza.
"It was strange… so strange how the mood shifted once they started talking about him. So quiet. It was a woman who told the story of how to summon him. Go into a dark room with a candle… say his name five times in a mirror…."
Tizini gasped and dropped the wine glass. The liquid that was left spilled onto the light carpet.
"Sorry! Sorry!"
"Shh… it's alright Tizini. No harm. Just a little honey wine. Can't even see it. Keep going. You are doing so well," Usumalo cooed.
Tizini wiped a hand over his face.
"We were already high from smoking so it was easy to corral us all into the bathing room. There were only five of us willing to take the dare of summoning him. The rest stayed in the other room drinking. We crowded around the mirror, and Itala made us all chant his name together. Five times. We did that. At first, nothing happened and we all just laughed. So happy that it was all a silly joke… but then Itala started screaming. I saw his eyes in the mirror… the sharp golden teeth… the cruel smile on his lips… he killed her! He killed them all! I was the furthest from the mirror, but he reached through the glass and did this!"
Tizini ripped open his jacket and Hadiza saw the swollen blood-red angry slash wounds in his chest. She covered her nose and mouth from the stench that permeated the room once he opened the jacket. Yellow-green pus spilled from a poorly healed gash. She rushed out of the room and made her way to Usumalo's bathing room where she hung her head over the sink ready to retch up her dinner and libations. She saw it with her own eyes. The wounds had twitched. Like something lived inside the scar tissue.
"Hadiza?"
Usumalo stood in the doorway.
"He's gone. It was too much for him. Are you okay?"
"That didn't bother you? To see that… that…?"
"I've seen far too many the last two years. I'm used to it."
"He looks so old."
"The trauma ages them all. You saw his hair. Bled white."
"His skin was moving—"
Usumalo patted her back, and Hadiza could regulate her breathing enough to leave the room. They sat on the couch and she forced wine into her mouth to chase away the sour taste on her tongue.
"The prefects and the courts tried to accuse him of murder, but there were too many other witnesses that saw him fleeing the bathroom almost bleeding to death. The mirror was broken. Shattered. Most people say that one of his friends was too high and broke the mirror herself causing them all to go into a frenzy with cutting themselves with mirror shards."
"Do you believe him?"
She shrugged.
"The drug makes people really high, or really high and crazed to perform violence. The fact is, they believe it."
"Have you smoked it?"
Usumalo looked sheepish.
"I have. It's an intense high, and it lasts a long time. I didn't like that. Gave me a terrible migraine and made me puke the next day. Of course, I didn't call his name in a mirror."
She tried to laugh to lighten the mood. It stayed tense.
"You admire him. Don't you? Your teeth."
Usumalo tapped her fingers on the gold, and Hadiza reached out to test the sharpness. Usumalo nipped her skin, and a thrill ran up her thighs. Her mind went to the painting of Killmonger in Necropolis City. What she wouldn't give to be alive during his time as a woman and to have his mouth on her skin, biting her… marking her.
Usumalo played some music, and they discussed her thesis paper and the two years of research she spent on studying Killmonger and his legacy. Usumalo regaled her with more urban legends from around the country about the man of the hour. Hadiza recorded everything, grateful that she snapped discreet photos of Tizini's wounds. They certainly looked like claw marks to her, not glass wounds.
It grew late.
Usumalo's lips found Hadiza's, and they kissed for a long time. They made love on the couch murmuring sweet words to one another. Sitting naked and in reverse cowgirl on the woman's lap, Hadiza rubbed her clit against Usumalo's folds. The woman nipped on her neck with those fake Killmonger teeth, and the slippery wetness from their joined pussy lips made Hadiza orgasm hard. She pretended the Tyrant King fucked her with a big hard dick. The sticky sounds of their sex flushed her body with heat and desire and also a new need.
Get a sample of onsami.
It was time to experiment and see if the urban legend was true.
###
Hadiza entertained a brief affair with Usumalo. It lasted for a month before she grew bored and went back to an old lover from First Year. Nomlanga was pretty, self-sufficient, and not possessive like Usumalo had become. Her obsession with Killmonger rivaled Hadiza's, but spending time with her was a front row lesson in how obsession could become a surrender of personality and agency. Usumalo wasn't just obsessed with the man, she wanted to become him. She cut and styled her hair in the fashionable locs, scarred her breasts to look like his, and even had her teeth permanently coated in gold fangs. Their ending had been amicable because Usumalo was so far gone into the Killmonger mystique. Hadiza lucked out though. Two days before she cut ties with her troubled lover, Usumalo bought three ounces of onsami on the black market and gave it to her as a gift. She took it and left the flat vowing to never interact with the woman again.
Hiding the illegal herb in her apartment, Hadiza made plans to test the drug. She waited until her parents were away for a long weekend so she wouldn't have to check in with them. Although she lived alone, her mother and father were like flies buzzing around open food when it came to her. She was their baby girl, the youngest of their brood. They interfered way too much in her life. If she was going to go on a hard drug trip, she didn't want them intruding and ruining her experimentation.
She cooked a gourmet meal for herself and allowed only one glass of pale wine to be consumed before she rolled the loose purple onsami inside rolling papers. She checked the one kimoyo bead she placed on her bedroom bureau to record her experience. Hadiza even bought soft velvet restraints with a combination lock to bind her left leg close to her heavy bedpost just in case she went off the rails and tried to hurt herself or anyone else if she fled the apartment. From her research, the effects of onsami could last anywhere from three to twelve hours, so she made sure that her friend Mezinde and lover Nomlanga were on deck to check on her the next morning. She would smoke the herb, call his name in her bedroom mirror, and sit waiting to see what would happen. If she were out of it past the point of remembering, her kimoyo bead would capture everything. There would be conclusive proof of what actually happened when the Bogeyman King was called.
Her excitement was undercut with a sensation of nervous energy. She didn't expect for anything to really happen, but what if it did? How much would she have to re-write for her paper? Or what if the drug fucked her up in the head? The wine in her system had her bold as she snapped the restraint in place. She had enough room to move sit, stand, or lay on the bed. But she made sure she was far enough away from the bureau in case she went into a drug frenzy and broke the mirror herself causing a severe injury. She left a small bucket on the floor to use the restroom and made sure that all knickknacks on her nightstands were put away so they couldn't be used on her body to harm herself.
She lit a candle on the edge of the bureau, voice commanded the lights to go out and sat at the end of her bed with the burning herb clasped in her fingers. She smoked, drew the smoke down into her lungs, and held it for a long time. It tasted bitter with a sickly sweet aftertaste, but the odor was mildly pleasant like dull honey rose.
More smoke went down into her lungs and the immediate effects had her tongue twirling inside her mouth. The sensation of swelling frightened her, and she calmed her breathing until the feeling passed. The candle flame flickered as she continued toking on the herb and her breath seemed to take a long time to fill up her lungs before she was exhaling smoke. Staring into the mirror, the glow from the candle made her face and dark brown skin look dreamy and surreal. Ghostly. The loose-fitting orange camisole she wore made her comfortable. Tossing her lengthy black hair back over her shoulder, she stretched her back, then scratched her thigh as her eyes stayed glued to the mirror. Once the drug settled into her blood, she pursed her lips.
Her reflection waited for her voice.
"Killmonger…"
She kept her back straight.
"Killmonger…"
Her left big toe jabbed into the carpet nervously.
"Killmonger…"
Her eyes felt heavy.
"Killmonger…"
She started giggling with the high and stuck her tongue out at her own face staring back at her.
"Killmonger."
She waited.
The air in the room was thick with anticipation—
The mirror moved. A simple vibration made the oval shape ripple like water. The light of the candle on her side of the mirror blew out. But the one in the mirror stayed lit.
Hadiza bolted up from the bed. Her reflection bolted up too, but a fraction of a second slower. The entire bedroom was pitch black but the mirrored candle glowed brighter and then she saw it… the glimmer of sharp gold teeth… full lips… and those dark menacing eyes.
She jerked on the restraint with her leg, moving away from the front of the bed and to its side. Her fingers fumbled with the restraint lock and her mind went blank on the combination. It was four numbers, easy ones that she picked, a simple 1,2,3,4… but it wouldn't open. She yanked on it with her hands but it grew tighter around her ankle.
Oh, Bast!
Two sharp half spears slid out from the mirror, followed by his locs, head, and the naked scarred chest. She screamed and yanked on the restraint regretting every damn moment she had ever thought about the Tyrant King. But it was too late. He emerged from her mirror like a monstrous demon, the sneer on his lips letting her know her doom was at hand for being a foolish, vain woman doubting the believers. Her eyes wildly took in her dark surroundings as the glow from the mirror brightened the room enough for her to see the sonic spear replica that leaned against her nightstand. If she were about to be slaughtered, at least she could get one good lick in. Her fingers circled around the spear and she lashed at him with it just in time. He brought down his half spears upon it and the fake sonic spear prevented the weight of his weapons from ripping her open right away.
"I'm sorry! I was wrong to call you!" she begged.
He raised up one spear to impale her.
"Your Highness, please!" she shrieked.
Her eyes jammed shut, and she braced for death. All she could think of was Usumalo spray-painting her name on decrepit buildings adding to the urban legend. Another stupid person playing with pure evil.
An impact never came.
Her fingers gripped the fake spear tight, and when several seconds went by and she never crossed the death threshold, she opened her eyes.
His face was right above hers. Lips partially open giving her full view of his teeth. The gold panther teeth were even more intimidating in real life. The painting in Necropolis City didn't do this man justice.
Heated dark eyes peered down at her and a few locs fell across his forehead when he lowered his face more. His form above her was massive. The shoulders broad. The sculpted chest… Bast help her.
"Your Highness… please… spare me. I just wanted to see you… to know you were real…"
A powerful hand went around her throat and lifted her up from the floor. She dangled in the air choking as she looked down at him. The snarl on his face became blurry as he cut the air from her body. Before she blacked out, he slammed her on the bed and kept his hand around her neck.
"What's my name?"
Her pussy clenched twice. His voice rendered her weak, and she stopped squirming on the bed. She blinked several times to help her focus and slid her hands up to touch his arm. He was real. That was warm flesh she touched. The shiny lumps on his body felt like slippery pebbles.
"Killmonger—"
He squeezed her throat harder.
"King N'Jadaka," she gasped.
"You want to die."
She shook her head and her lips sucked in air as much as she could. His free hand snapped off her restraint.
"I… I… want to live…"
"Nah. They summon me to experience the end."
He lifted and threw her on the floor. She snatched up the fake spear and took on a Dora Milaje stance the way her mother taught her as a child. Crouching low and jabbing the weapon toward him, she hunkered down to battle him as Sauda did long ago.
A smirk came across his thick lips.
"You different," he said.
Holding his spears out to his sides, Killmonger took slow careful steps toward her with panther-like stealth. His body was immense. She was a small insignificant being before him. He charged her, and she fought back, deflecting the blows from his weapons until her fake spear split down the center with one swipe of his blade. The sharp curve of his weapon even cut open her silky camisole, and she quickly covered her breasts with her arms.
His expression changed then. He lowered his spears. They rested against his dark linen trousers. His bare feet padded forward, his full-frame crowding her. His eyes danced across her body and it was as if he finally noticed that she was dressed for bed… or sex.
She dropped to her knees and lowered her head.
"Why did you call me?" he demanded.
Many thoughts went through her mind.
The sharp edge of his blade lifted her chin up to look into his eyes.
"I asked you a question."
"To see if you were real. To see what they were so afraid of when you were alive. I know we cheated you of your birthright. I know we banished you unfairly… I meant no disrespect to your memory. I just wanted to see… you."
He held his arms outstretched and his biceps flexed. His pecs bounced and the gleam from his gold slugs hypnotized her to his beauty.
"Now you see me in my full glory. Now I will rip you open—"
She dropped the loose pieces of her ruined camisole onto the carpet. Fully naked before him, it was better to go out a willing sacrifice than to make him think she was like those other people who played with his memory for simple sport then died shitting their pants and weeping.
"Make it quick," she whispered.
She kept her eyes on him. All fear left her body. Her clit pulsed and the blood in her veins thrummed with heat. Staring at him she thanked Bast for the opportunity to see the Tyrant King. Tears stung her eyes, but she refused to close them.
"Come on, King N'Jadaka. Take me. I give myself to you as an offering. You were more than I ever imagined. You deserved justice and mercy—"
He dropped his spears. The heavy thump on her carpet made her jump. Reaching out a mammoth hand, he caressed her cheek and ran his thumb along her eyelid, swiping away a tear.
He was so tall. It made her dizzy to look up at him. His skin smelled of burning wood and ripe berries. Moving even closer until his body touched hers, his breath was warm and odorless on her face.
"What's your name?"
"Hadiza."
"Hadiza…"
Her name was magic on his tongue and it tingled her insides.
Lowering his head, he sniffed the skin on her neck closing his eyes.
"Sweet…" he murmured.
His voice had dulcet tones to her ears, and she shivered. It made her breasts jiggle, and that caught his eye.
"I excite you," he said.
"Yes."
His lips pressed into her neck, and she trembled from the hot tongue sucking on her. His left hand skated up her side and cupped a full breast. He plucked at the nipple before rolling in between his thumb and index finger. His beard tickled her skin and her toes curled. Her lips attracted him and his mouth swallowed them, his tongue pushing against the seam forcing her to give in to his bold kisses.
"Oh, Bast!"
"So sweet…" he sighed against her face.
Her pussy throbbed, winking open and closing in rhythmic pulses as his blazing mouth moved from her neck down to her right breast where he sucked her nipple, tugging on it with his sharp teeth. Something poked at her stomach and she glanced down to see the rigid pole of his covered erection.
Killmonger lifted her, tossed her on the bed, and watched her legs flop about. She sat up on her elbows fast not sure what to do next. His dick pointed at her. Slipping his fingers in the band of his trousers he yanked them down releasing the heavy girth. Even his shaft had smaller shiny scars, making his dick look like artwork. It was gorgeous like him, the mushroom head smooth and bulbous, already leaking clear fluid.
Killmonger crawled onto the bed knees first, pressing his fists around her shoulders and widening his mountain-sized thighs over her belly.
"Spread your legs, Hadiza. You 'bout to get something you'll never forget."
He didn't have to repeat himself. Her thighs fell open, and she reached up to grasp his shoulders.
"Fuck me… please. I want to feel you deep inside of me, King…"
She didn't know how long he would stay in her world, but she wanted to have a taste of him before he vanished. The unearthly light in the bedroom glowed bright yellow and their skin looked like spun dark gold rubbing against each other. His eyes dropped to her opening, and she helped him guide his dick to her dripping slit.
"Give me…" she panted.
He entered her slick folds, pressing the wings of her labia so far back that they became his flesh, losing all demarcation of where he started and she ended.
"Oh Bast! Oh Bast! Oh Bast!"
His erection split her core like it was soft clay made to be shaped by his dick. Her arousal coated his scars turning the puffed-out skin into shiny jewels until he went deeper and her pussy creamed all over him like a wet frothy tidal wave.
Pleasurable noises spilled from his throat and he shut his eyes and grimaced several times when he struck the sides of her walls.
"Tight…" he grunted.
He leaned back and kept her on his dick. Standing up from the bed, he lifted her up and down on his length. Her pussy echoed in the room and he pulled her in tight against his chest.
"Damn, fuck that dick… dassit… take all that shit… damn… fucking the shit outta me…"
Hadiza's cheek rested against his temple. She clung to him and chewed on her bottom lip from the intensity of his strokes. He shifted her around and her eyes bulged. Facing the mirror, all she could see was her body floating in the air with her arms curled around nothing. But she witnessed her gaping pink center being stuffed with an invisible thickness that stretched out, then closed back up each time he thrust into her. Her eyes flicked to her kimoyo bead making sure it was recording everything. It glowed. Still working. She continued watching her pussy get wrecked by an invisible entity until he placed her gently on the bed and threw her legs over his shoulders.
"Killmonger!" she cried.
"Say my name again!"
"Killmonger! Killmonger…!"
He slammed into her forcing her back to arch up from the bed in a delirious convulsion. Her pussy squeezed around him and tears ran down her face.
"I'ma keep making you cum on this dick," he shouted.
The hot throbbing erection tapped a spot inside of hers and she thought her heart was going to give out. She flapped under him until he swelled inside of her and released a torrential flood of semen. He yelled so loud that the vibrations from his voice rippled across her skin like the second orgasm that twisted her up beneath his weight.
He pulled out of her and forced her onto her hands and knees. Entering her from the back, his hands cupped her breasts as she rested on her knees throwing her ass back at him. His groans and curses encouraged her to be reckless with her pussy. She fondled his sack and chanted his name again until he roared and ejaculated again.
Her folds dripped with his cum and ran down her ass. He wrapped her hair around his fist and pulled her head back, stuffing her mouth with his firm dick. Fucking her throat until she gagged and blinked back more tears, her eyes gazed up at his face. His lips twisted in an angry scowl. He pumped and dumped more cum into her throat. She was exhausted by then, not sure of how much more she could take from the entity. The Tyrant King wasn't finished. Not by a long shot. His never-ending erection stayed swollen to perfection, and he was determined to fuck, suck, and finger every orifice on her body. And he did. For hours.
Inserting his dick into her ass when she was barely hanging on by a thread, he spooned around her and massaged her breasts while humping her into another frenzy. A snarl escaped his lips, and he thrust his tongue back into her mouth when he spurted a river into her ass. He played with her nipples as the last of his release spilled inside of her.
"Hadiza," he whispered in her ear.
She gasped for air as sweat drenched them both. Before her body cooled, Killmonger stepped from the bed and fisted his rod over her. He squeezed his balls and those blazing eyes of his captured her again.
"Say my name…"
"Killmonger—"
"Again."
"Killmonger…"
"Say my real name, Hadiza."
"My King…"
"Yes," he hissed, digging his heels into the carpet, his hand a blur jerking off his dick.
"King N'Jadaka Udaku, the true King… the only King… my King—"
Cum rained down all over her body, drenching her with its hot sticky wetness. She smeared it all over her face, chest, and stomach. Licking her fingers, she grinned up at his face.
"Sleep," he said.
She knocked out into darkness.
###
Hadiza woke up to her kimoyo beads vibrating on her wrist like crazy. She tapped it quickly to shush it. The pounding in her head hurt more than the aches that tortured her all over. Sitting up, she noticed that her leg was still tethered to the velvet restraints. She remembered the combination and had no problem releasing herself. Her breasts felt more ravaged than the rest of her external parts. Killmonger's teeth tore her ass up, and there would probably be bruising everywhere. She needed a long hot bath with salt chips to soak away the delicious pain. She sauntered over to the kimoyo bead on the bureau.
Her reflection looked normal in the mirror. Her hair was a wild mess and her lips looked swollen from so much kissing. Touching her breasts, it surprised her not to see teeth marks. Those tender nipples were still hard, but she looked normal. Adding the lone kimoyo to the rest of the beads, Hadiza swiped replay on the recorder. A four-dimensional holograph floated above her wrist. She enlarged it and watched herself do the initial preparation, lighting the candle, smoking the herb, calling his name. But other than a sudden flicker from the candle, there was nothing there. Fast-forwarding a little, she gazed at the image of herself just… sitting. It was like she went into a trance. For a second there was a glitch in the image, but then she was back, still sitting until she fell over like a drunken lump onto the mattress. She fast-forwarded again watching the time stamp go past one hour. Two hours. Fours hours. Nine. Finally, she observed herself waking up to the sound of messages on her wrist from Mezinde and Nomlanga.
How could that be?
Her pussy still felt full from the shape of his dick.
Her breasts were sore.
Even her clit was still plump and wet with her arousal.
She ran to her sidewall and halted. Her sonic spear replica leaned against it intact.
A lucid high.
That's what she had.
She swiped a message to her friend and her lover and fretted to the bathing room to clean up her damp body and soak in some healing bath salts. Disappointment lodged in her chest.
The next few weeks she worked on her paper, finishing it a week early. She used a lot of what Usumalo supplied her with and cropped the photos to add to her final draft. There were long lonely nights of masturbating to the memory of that night. She had no more onsami and wasn't about to go to her old lover to procure more. Checking that woman's online presence was disconcerting. She truly had gone on the deep end. Now she was living in condemned buildings rumored to have Killmonger sightings doing live vlogs to paying fans.
She graduated at the top of her class and spent the last summer of freedom before going to the Dora Milaje Corps enjoying her apartment. Her lease would expire right when she left for basic training.
She gave parties.
Fucked different women and men.
Gave away furniture.
Clothes.
She cut her hair and lost a little weight. Still plump in the right places she walked around her home naked a lot, thinking of him. Her fingers slipped in and out of her sticky folds as she imagined another tryst with the Tyrant King. It tempted her beyond all temptation to ask her mother about how it was really like protecting Killmonger when he ruled for those two short weeks. Her body couldn't help but react with arousal with him in her mind. Did her mother react the same way? Did the other Dora Milaje too?
Flicking her clit on her bed, a feverish evening autoerotic session had her creaming on her own naughty fingers. Pretending that his fleshy mouth was on her pussy again she came hard enough to squirt a bit of fluid on her sheets before her mouth opened and closed like a stranded gasping fish on land. Her pussy continued to throb while walking to her bathing room. She flicked on the lights and froze.
DO YOU THINK OF ME WHEN YOU TOUCH YOURSELF?
Hadiza stared at the scrawl of careful script on her bathing room mirror painted in vibranium blue.
A sly smile crept across her lips.
"Killmonger…"
The lights winked out.
"Killmonger…"
Gold teeth glinted inside her reflection.
"Killmonger…"
His eyes.
"Killmonger…"
His lips.
"Killmonger..."