Bound For Afica Part 2 by Gordon Kerr

He turned Evelyn’s head and crushed his mouth to hers, invading it with his tongue. When she tried to twist away to breathe he grasped the now naked woman again by the neck and threw her backwards, sprawling onto the bed.
“Lay back,” he ordered. “Spread your legs.”
Then a new kind of panic erupted in the traumatized girl. RAPE! She thought. He was going to rape her. Take by brutal force what she shared only with Rick. Her psyche screamed with the sudden realization of her imminent violation. ‘Not with him’, her spirit raged. ‘Oh god! NOT WITH HIM’!
He was removing his own clothes in a casual manner, which belied the outraged turmoil in Evelyn’s mind. He finally took off his pants and shorts, and turned to face her. Then, for the first time she saw the instrument of her defilement. His huge manhood, erect and throbbing now at a full, thick eight inches.
“You are mine, woman, to use or give away as I please. I’m going to claim you now.”
Evelyn was too afraid to move from the bed, but she was shaking her head slowly, as if mesmerized by his hugeness, his blackness- and the enormity of his organ. Again he was uncoiling the whip.
“Surrender. Open to me,” he said. “Spread your legs and fold your knees back.”
Evelyn curled into a ball and screwed her eyes shut with anguish, and a second later felt the merciless black leather across her naked, pale back. “AAAAAHHHHGGGGGGG!” She reached back with her arm to rub the punished area, unwittingly exposing her smooth, soft belly. “AAAAAGGHHHHHH!”
“Open yourself, white woman,” he said, his voice incongruously quiet, his calm demeanor seeming to return. “Offer yourself to me.”
“Please let me go,” Evelyn panted. “I can’t break my vows… AAAAAAHHHH… Nooo…”
“Your vows to your white man are meaningless here. Spread your legs.” There followed another lash and scream, then another. At last, unable the bear the sheer agony, Evelyn lay flat on her back and brought her knees up. Her thighs slowly fell open as she wept with shame. She had closed her eyes to shut out the horrible moment that lay in store, but she felt the bed move when the black doctor knelt on the edge of it, near her feet. Her eyelids fluttered again, opening to see him crawling to position himself between her legs. Her body went ridged when she felt his black fingers lightly stroking her delicate, pink pudenda.
Evelyn whimpered, and made a feeble attempt to squirm away. But the doctor took one of the folds of her labia and pinched it until she stilled. With the middle finger of his other hand he traced the line of her tight slit, caressing slowly and nimbly along its length.
“This looks almost unused,” he said. “Your white husband must be very small, or very negligent. Which is it? Or is it both?” he laughed softly.
When she didn’t respond he pinched her lips again. “Answer me. Look at my cock, woman,” he said, heavily. “Is your husband’s half the size of mine? Don’t lie.”
Evelyn didn’t lie. She had no experience with larger penises and had no reason to believe Rick’s was inferior. In fact, she regarded Kamwego as a freak. “No,” she said. “He… he has a normal size…”
He laughed again. “Normal for a white boy. About four or five inches.”
It was more a statement than a question, but she answered anyway. “Yes. Please, let me get up… Oohhh.”
His roving digit found the top of her cleft, and pushed in to make contact with her clitoris. Evelyn felt bright sparks of dark pleasure suddenly course through the pit of her belly.
“Ahhh… what are you… Uuuaahh…”
“Summoning your spirit,” he whispered, leering at her as her light skin flushed. “A white woman’s soul dwells in her womb, it breaths and feels through her clit, but only a black man’s cock can reach deep enough into her pussy to touch her soul. You will learn this Evelyn. Tonight.”
The young white wife understood little of what he was saying. It was all she could do to suppress the compulsion to buck her hips up to his skillful fingers.
Evelyn closed her eyes and turned her face away, clawing at the sheets with unwanted sensation. She was wet now, her body secreting the fluid meant to ease the entry of the male. She gasped, and tried to regain control of her emotions. But the feeling was too strong, his fingers too insistent. He was building a fever in her, a wave that was surging and flowing, about to break… and then he stopped.
Evelyn hung on the precipice of a mind-bending climax as she saw him lower his hips and prepare to mount her. Her body was screaming, aching for his manhood. But as the head of his massive penis grazed the outer lips of her vagina, Evelyn’s virtue surfaced, and her loyalty to her husband found a voice.
“Plleeaaasssee, don’t do this…” she moaned. “Aaaahhh… doctor…”
He leaned forward, holding his huge frame up with his arms as he loomed over her defenseless body. He drank in the lush, warm pink of her nipples and the vibrant white of her flesh. She was a beauty. As lovely as any woman he had ever taken into the church- or into a bed.
He reached down to guide the head of his black cock to the soft folds of her labia, slowly dragging it along the tight slit, back and forth. Evelyn brought her hands up to his chest as if to push him away, but lay them at her side as memories of the whip blocked her volition. He was being gentle now, once again the smooth, sophisticated leader. “Just relax, Evelyn,” he intoned. “Obey me. Welcome me and the pain will fade.”
“Please,” she whispered, hardly daring to speak lest she disturb his current gentle mood. Dr. Kamwego. I can’t… it’s wrong…”
“Shhhh,” he soothed her. “Lay quietly and feel what I’m doing to you.”
He brought his thumb to the top of her sex and began to stroke her clitoris softly again. At once, Evelyn sensed the return of the warm glow radiating from her love button into her belly. She simply could resist no more. The fear and the pain and the pleasure had overtaken her. Now there was an acquiescence in her subconscious to accept his hands. They were not wielding a whip.
The doctor was caressing her clitoris with knowing circular stokes of his thumb. He leaned forward to lay his heavy black phallus on her vaginal trough, reaching his other hand up to idly play with her nipples. He began pumping his hips ever so slowly, dragging his organ along the outside of her sex. He looked down and smiled when he felt the warm, slippery liquid, now seeping copiously between her lips. She was wet and growing wetter.
Evelyn looked up into his face, meeting his smoldering eyes. She held her breath, trying to will the strange and unwanted feelings from her body. She made another belated effort to wriggle from underneath him, but he kept her in place with the weight of his obese black body. Still he gazed at her, reveling in this moment of moments- the first rape of a new woman, a white man’s wife. The first of many more by the men of his church, though the couplings would cease to be rapes soon.
She was primed now, and looked down between her legs through moistened eyes. He began to press his hips downward, and Evelyn’s fear returned when she thought about his immense size. Surely he could not work that huge thing into her! He was more than twice the size of Rick.
Kamwego watched her face intently. He wanted to hurt her, but not damage her. He intended to give her pleasure as well. Melding the pain and pleasure in her mind and psyche so that she would associate forever the pain of his discipline and the sweet pleasure of climax. He wanted to rape her spirit as well as her body.
And it did hurt. As he kept pushing it deeper and deeper, Evelyn wondered when he would stop. She felt sure he would never get the entire length into her.
The bulbous head disappeared, and her vagina was stretched and opened like never before as he pressed downward, inward, deeper into her core. And with each passing second Evelyn could feel the displacement of her vaginal walls as the huge cock pushed them aside, straining them as never before. He would stop and let her adjust, then pull it out a bit- only to send it ever deeper with the next thrust. Deeper, as she gasped. Deeper, as she whimpered. Deeper still, six inches, seven, eight, as she felt him in places Rick had never gone. Then he drew back, slowly, slowly, until only the head was lodged, and reversed course again to press inward, even deeper still.
Evelyn lay beneath him, taking short breaths and quailing inside at the slow implement of her womanhood. When he bottomed out, she could feel his massive scrotum resting against her rear cheeks.
“AAHHH… doctor,” she gasped. As she lay still the pain gave way to a feeling of being stuffed. She was adjusting to his size and Kamwego held himself there for several minutes.
By the time he began to move, Evelyn’s discomfort had eased, and her love canal was fully accommodating his big organ. He began with deliberate, measured strokes. The contortions in her face eased and he started a rhythmic cadence, In and out, in and out, slowly. The young white wife could feel his glans and the massive uncircumcised head gliding along her vaginal walls- and at the end of each in stroke it kissed her cervix. His hands grasped her now at the shoulders, clamping his strong arms to her torso.
Evelyn felt the relentless building of the strange and terrible pleasure, spiking with a double spark at the end of each downstroke, when his cock nudged the opening to her womb and the base grazed her clit.
A mist seemed to envelope her consciousness, blotting out all the fear and humiliation she felt from his treatment of her. He was pistoning inside her with vigor now and she was responding, bringing her arms up to his back and lifting her legs over his pumping buttocks. Why did this feel so good? This was a horrible rape, yet sex with her husband had never given her pleasure like this!
“Doctor… please…”
“Fuck… I’m fucking you, Evelyn. Say it.”
“Ah, please… it’s too strong… ah…”
He slapped her face again and she was brought back to the reality of the situation. She had to obey him or he would start hurting her again. "Ah pl“... please make love to me…”
He was shaking his head. “Not like that. Use the language fit for a white woman. Say ‘fuck me,’ sir.
Evelyn groaned. She never used words like that. But the unaccustomed drug of pure lust was surging through her veins, getting hotter with each thrust of his cock. And she was afraid of being slapped again.
“Fuck me…” she whispered.
“Louder, he growled. They were pumping fast now, their rut becoming a furious race to fulfillment. He was determined to make her cum, knowing what effect climaxing with her rapist would have on her mind. He knew white women well.
“Fuck me,” she said clearly. “Fuck me, sir!”
“Yes, you bitch. Take it from your man’s balls, you white whore!”
He was pounding her wildly now. They were fused but for the action of his manhood, churning into her relentlessly. As Evelyn’s belly spasmed with her climax, the big black man peaked. He could feel the young wife convulsing beneath him and he slammed forward into her depths with all his great weight. She felt the head of his cock press tightly against her cervix, even finding the little cup, which led into her baby chamber. “White woman,” he bellowed. “I’m cumming in your soul!”
His own orgasm flashed and he held himself deep inside her as his semen gushed and splattered into her belly, even into her uterus itself. The feel of this hot, wet violation of her very womb sent Evelyn into another level of sustained orgasm, cumming and cumming on his black rod.
They remained locked together for awhile, Kamwego wanting to keep her impaled on his staff while he spoke to her. His authoritarian persona was returning. “White woman. I will be back tomorrow and I will fuck you again. I will bring you clothing appropriate to your station here.”
Evelyn had come down from her orgasmic high and was weeping at what she had done. She had been forced, but she’d felt good. She’d enjoyed it. In a way she had cheated on Rick, and she felt so filthy. So used.
He pulled out of her at last. Too ashamed even to move, Evelyn simply lay there, naked on bed while he dressed. She cried and shuddered, while thick globs of semen seeped from her ravaged sex.
“Tomorrow you will be ready for me, and your training will begin,” he said. “If you wish to avoid the whip you will obey. You will remember that you belong to the church now- and to me.”



Chapter 6

Exhaustion overtook Evelyn after he left, and she slept. But her rest was disturbed with the traumas inflicted on her that day. In the morning when she awoke, the bright sun was streaming through the bedroom window. She remembered a horrible nightmare of the night before and tried to get up. That was when she noticed she was naked.
She wondered how that could be. She always slept in a nightgown. She was conscious of a dull ache in her crotch and looked down to find her labia red and swollen. A thick, white liquid was seeping from her sex and at that moment, the events of the previous evening came crashing down into her consciousness.
She had been raped. RAPED! Oh god, that Dr. Kamwego! He had thrown her on the bed and forced that terrible thing of his into her, and she had liked it. She had liked it!”
She was afraid she was going to retch on the bedroom floor.
Julie had tried to warn her, but Evelyn had been too frightened to act. Now she was too afraid not to. She remembered that the doctor had told her he was coming back. The thought of his return haunted her with dread. She had to escape!
Evelyn began packing a small bag. She didn’t want to leave without Rick, but she couldn’t face the possibility of the big, black doctor’s return. Julie’s words kept echoing in her mind. “Get out while you can.” Was it too late already?
Evelyn quickly formed a plan. Taking the road was no good. They were too heavily patrolled and she didn’t have a car. If she could get to the airport she might find someone to fly her out. She felt guilty about abandoning Rick, but once she was back in America she could arrange help for him.
Evelyn whimpered with shame at the memory of the doctor’s huge, sweaty body, heavy and rutting on top of her. She had the presence of mind to take one of her contraceptive pills before she left. Then she slung the travel bag on her shoulders and headed out the front door. She looked up at the villa fearfully, hoping no one was watching her. Then she headed on foot for the main road.
She made it. The air was already getting hot, and she knew the airport was several miles away. But it was also on this road. If she could somehow get there quickly she might get a flight out before anyone knew what was happening.
Evelyn decided she would have to risk hitchhiking. If she saw a military truck or police car she would try to hide, though the desert was flat and there was not much cover. As luck would have it, the first vehicle to approach was civilian- a decrepit flatbed loaded with poultry.
The driver stopped and looked at her with surprise, but motioned her to get in.
Evelyn was afraid she might be sexually assaulted again, but the man driving was an ancient looking Arab who spoke broken English. He called her memsahib and treated her like a lady. She had no choice but to trust him, and when she explained her predicament nodded in sympathy.
When he dropped her off at the airport terminal without laying a hand on her, she was so overjoyed that she kissed him on the lips. His eyes were still shinning when she waved goodbye.
Evelyn knew better than to try to book a commercial flight without money or passport. She would have to find a private flight and make some sort of arrangement.
It was a small airport, and she walked around the building to the charter hangers. At first they seemed deserted, and Evelyn began to worry, lest she be discovered by a patrolling guard. But after a little searching she spied a tall white man, working in one of the hangers on a twin engine.
“Excuse me,” she said. “Are you flying out anytime soon?”
The man pulled his head from under the cowling and saw Evelyn.
“Sure am, love. Down to Nairobi this afternoon.”
“I… I would like to fly with you…” Evelyn tried in vain to keep the agitation from her voice.
“I’m only going one way,” he said. “Won’t be back for at least a fortnight or so.”
“That’s fine,” she blurted.
She saw his eyes narrow. “Ah, alright. 300 American. Up front.”
“I… I can’t pay it right now. I can get you some money in Nairobi…”
He was shaking his head. “No sweet. No free rides.”
“Please,” she begged, looking around shiftily. “I… I need to get to Kenya.”
“You with that church? Dr. Kanwego’s outfit?”
She considered lying. But if he saw through it she realized he might not take her out of The Sudan. Then again, perhaps he knew about the doctor and would help her. He was a white man after all and Evelyn was sure he wouldn’t want to see a white woman alone and abused. “Ye… yes,” she said.
Evelyn thought she could see a faint smile on his handsome, weathered face, but it faded quickly.
“Right. Why don’t you come sit in the office where we can talk and make arraignments”
She followed him, thankful to be out of sight for a bit.
“My name’s Ian McHolst,” he said over his shoulder.
“Evelyn… Evelyn Kvindlog.”
“Well,” he said, sitting in a chair behind a desk. “How are you going to pay for your trip?”
“I have a bank account in Nairobi,” she lied. “I can pay you then…”
“I don’t take IOUs love. Not with the price of petrol in this sandbox.”
“Please… I don’t have any…” her voice trailed away as she saw him unzipping his pants. She looked at his face in disbelief.
“Come down here, sweet. Earn your trip.”
Evelyn was shaking her head. “Ple… Mr. McHolst… I’ve never…”
“It won’t hurt you Evelyn,” he said, beckoning with his hand.
“But… I’m married…” she knelt in front of him. “I love my husband.”
“Hubby doesn’t have to know about this, Evelyn.” He reached for her head and guided it gently but firmly to his groin.
“I… I don’t know how…”
“Put it in your mouth love, I’m clean… and I’m a white man. You must have done this for those kaffirs.”
“I’ve never done it,” said Evelyn her eyes pleading.
“But you were part of that church…” he said.
“My husband and I just moved here. Now he’s accused of smuggling. The doctor… he…” she couldn’t go on. She was simply too ashamed to admit to a white man that she had had sex with a black African- even if it was rape.
“Put it in your mouth, Evelyn. If you want me to take you to Nairobi, then suck my wank.”
Evelyn closed her eyes. There was nothing she could do but perform the obscene act and get it over with.
She slipped it into her mouth, closing her lips and moving her head back and forth. Her only knowledge of oral sex was from the few whispered, giggling conversations of other girls in a college locker room. She wanted to die of shame, but she applied suction with her lips and worked the shaft with serendipitous skill.
“Not bad. Not bad, sweet,” he groaned. “Lick it. Under my shaft. There’s a good girl.”
She was bobbing her head on it now and he was building fast. The sight of this beautiful, distressed woman loving him with her mouth- her virgin mouth, was too much. In seconds his maleness erupted and his viscous semen trickled onto her tongue. Evelyn fought hard to keep from vomiting, though the taste was not at all unpleasant. She didn’t swallow, but got up and raced to the restroom to spit it out. Ian followed her.
He was chuckling. “Well, not spectacular, but I think you have the instinct.”
“Please,” she said, starting to cry again. “Just get me out of here.”
“All right,” he said. “It’ll take me about an hour to finish the plane. You can stay in here so no one sees you.”
Then he left Evelyn alone. She washed her mouth out for several minutes, then returned to the office to wait.
She felt so dirty and ashamed, but at least she had made it. She was going to escape from the Sudan. Later she could get Rick released and they would put this horrible experience behind them. She wondered if she would ever be able to tell her husband about her rape at the hands of Kamwego, or even if she would ever be able to fully come to grips with it. The very fact that she had been in carnal union with a Negro man filled her with a racist revulsion. She wanted so bad to forget. To return to America with Rick so they could start a family and live normal lives.
Suddenly the door to the office opened, and in walked the black sergeant and two other men!
Evelyn squealed and jumped up, but they grabbed her by the hair, laughing and cuffing her hands behind her.
When Ian came in looking rather contrite, Evelyn knew she had been betrayed.
“I… I trusted you,” she gasped. “You said you’d help me if I… If I…”
“Sorry sweet. I do a lot of business with Dr. Kamwego and I can’t afford to have him pissed off at me. It’s a rum go for you, but there it is.”
Evelyn was trembling as the officers led her out. “Please, Ian,” she pleaded in desperation. “You said you’d help me to get home.”
He stopped them for a moment, reached up and gently wiped a tear from her face. “I’m sorry,” he said. “I think you are home, love.”



Chapter 7

Evelyn was sitting in the interrogation room of the prison once more, feeling very alone and very apprehensive. She was worried about how the doctor would react to her escape attempt, and how it would effect her court case for that matter.
She thought again about what the doctor had done to her, and recoiled at the memory of being physically joined to the fat African. It was obvious that his church was simply a front, designed to cloak a system of religious patronage that had nothing to do with traditional Christianity. But she was appalled also by what Ian had done to her. She was shocked and dismayed that a white man would turn her over so easily to a group of corrupt blacks. It had destroyed an illusion she had kept subconsciously from her upbringing. Namely that white men were somehow more brave and chivalrous. She knew she was over-generalizing, but deep inside her image of the men of her own race had been tarnished by Ian’s duplicity.
She jumped when the door to the room opened. In walked Dr. Kamwego. His face was expressionless, and she couldn’t gauge his mood.
“Stand up,” he said evenly.
Evelyn complied.
“You left the compound and tried to leave the Sudan. I did not give you permission.”
“Please, sir. I was just trying to…”
“Be silent,” he snapped. “I’m going to teach you the folly of your actions. I think it would be a good lesson for you to remain in this prison for awhile, so that you may appreciate the dispensations of the church.”
Evelyn felt a slight sense of relief. She didn’t like the idea of spending time in a jail cell. But at least she wouldn’t be going back to where he could brutalize her again.
“Can you give me any news of Rick?” she asked. She was totally caught off guard by what happened next.
He delivered a vicious slap that sent her reeling. “That’s for touching a white man. You will never again talk to or attempt to make any contact with a white man without permission. Any white man. You will not talk about your white husband. Is that understood?”
“Yes,” she gasped, checking her mouth for blood.
“When I feel you’ve been properly chastened I’ll have you released from here. Then you will learn the rules of the church.”
He turned and left. A guard came and took her to other offices where she was processed, then to a room where she was ordered to change into the prison garb. He escorted her down to the cellblocks. Before she even arrived she knew she was in trouble. All around were men yelling and laughing, issuing obscene threats and catchalls. Evelyn tried to put up a brave front but was crying by the time she reached her cell.
There was no special facility for women. She was alone in her own room, but all around men were laughing and catcalling, hurling abuse and lewd comments at her. Her cell had open bars on three sides, and was visible to most of the others. Prisoners, all of them filthy and unkempt watched with sadistic amusement while the sheltered young wife cowered. There was no bed, only a raised section of concrete. She had been given a prison tunic to wear, but no underwear and no shoes. Her bare legs were drawn up in front of her and she was trying to make herself as small as possible.
As she sat curled up in terror, Evelyn was actually thankful for the bars that imprisoned her. They were the only things separating her from the dozens of rough, frightening, male inmates. So many violent men, she thought. And they were expressing such hatred of her, such vile intentions! She was sure she would be raped or murdered in an instant if she were put in with any of them.
“Wait ‘til they put you in with me, love,” said the emaciated, gray-haired ruin in the next cell. He looked Indian and there was a cruel glint in his eye. His twisted smile was distorted by several missing and broken teeth. “We’ll have a good time on my mat, white woman,” he snickered, snatching through the bars at her with his scrawny brown arms. She was just out of reach of his grasp. He could probe her with his fingertips, but no more.
“Stop it,” she cried weakly, trying to move away. “Don’t touch me!”
“You’re not a whore,” he breathed the black man in the opposite cell. A horrible scar ravaged his face, as if someone had mangled it with a knife in years past. “You’re a fine lady. Why are you here?”
“I… I don’t know,” she choked, weakly. “They said they found drugs in my husband’s car.”
Again the Indian man laughed. “I don’t know why those bastard guards put her in here, but she’s got the look of a lady.”
“Fine ladies make the best whores,” shouted the black man lunging for her. Evelyn was just out of his reach as well, but she cowered back from his groping hand, bringing her within the grasp of the Indian.
“AAIIIE!” she screamed had he took a firm hold of her ankle and pulled her against the steel bars.
“I want to feel that pussy,” he growled.
“Help me. Please, someone!” shouted Evelyn hysterically, flailing her legs and trying to kick him. Her soft bare feet had little effect.
“Quiet, you,” said the Indian. He held her foot tightly against the steel barrier. Evelyn could see he had something sharp in his hand and he stuck it painfully between the sensitive skin between her toes.
“Ahhh… Aaaagghhhh… don’t, please.” she begged pathetically.
“Stop kicking,” he said, pushing the blunt end of the shank even harder into her foot. “You shout again and I’ll slice your toes off!”
“Don’t hurt me… don’t hurt me,” Evelyn pleaded.
“Take off the smock,” he said, grinning in triumph.
She sat up and groaned in protest but complied, terrified that he would cut her. She saw his bloodshot eyes light up as she bared her luscious body.
“That’s right. Now face the bars and put your legs and arms through. Hurry, before someone comes!”
Evelyn obeyed his demand and threaded her legs and arms through the space between the bars.
“All the way,” he grunted, seizing her legs with an iron grip and pulling until her torso was fast against the steel. Her breasts spilled between the bars too, and her face and head fit snuggly between. She shook with sobs now, too afraid even to cry out.
“Pink, soft pussy,” he whispered, pressing his callused fingers into her most intimate flesh. He was not hurting her now, but the shame of being so utterly exposed to this gross, ugly stranger was mortifying in the extreme. Even Rick had not seen the very secret part of her body like this! Her vagina was now open; totally vulnerable, totally displayed. Closing her legs was impossible.
Evelyn gasped as he probed her so boldly. “If only you were in here,” he said. “I’d fuck your white cunt ‘till it bubbles red.”
Evelyn shook and sobbed softly. She wanted to disappear and hide as the man stroked her slit and played his fingers over her clitoris. A few hours before she had been comfortable and secure in her own home, a chaste, conservative wife. Now she was a prisoner, about to be sexually defiled on the floor of an African jail.
“You suck me,” said the Indian, rising and opening his prison pants and winding his hand around her soft neck. “Drink my seed.”
Evelyn’s eyes grew round as saucers as she realized he wanted the same unspeakably filthy thing that Ian had demanded. But where Ian had been white and handsome, this man was old and ugly, and Indian. She had been disgusted when she’d heard of other women doing it. Now she would have to do it with strangers, twice in one day. She felt his grip tighten on her throat as he sensed her resistance.
“Take it out,” he whispered evenly. “Put it in your mouth and suck on it.”
“Noooo… please, I can’t, I can’t! AAAAGGHHHHH! Please, I can’t bre… breath… please… AAAGGGG.”
“Take it out, woman.”
She reached into the odious man’s pants and gingerly took hold of his penis. She gasped with astonishment. It was very big and very long, much larger than Rick’s and even Ian’s.
“Do it now!” said the Indian man, impatiently, once again squeezing her neck.
Evelyn had no choice. She pulled the huge organ out of his pants, and it seemed even larger in her small, white hands. She hesitated again, unable to bring herself to actually put his unclean manhood in her mouth.
“Suck me,” he ordered through clinched teeth. “Open your mouth!”
She grimaced and closed her eyes tight, trying to shut out the intense shame of what was happening to her. His strong, bony hand held her head rigidly in position. She felt his thumb at the corner of one of her eyes.
“I’ll gouge it out,” he warned. “Open your mouth.”
Evelyn parted her lips. She wanted to gag as the man forced his manhood in. Instinctively she tried to pull away as she felt the shaft slide past her teeth, but he held her head unmoving and kept the thumb to her eye socket.
“Suck,” he breathed, moving himself in and out. “Use your tongue.”
Evelyn wanted to die and melt through a crack in the floor as the man started to hump her face. His old balls in their crinkled brown sac bounced against her chin. She heard the hoots of the other prisoners mingling with the man’s groans of pleasure, and such was her fear that she did hollow her cheeks and work her tongue on the bottom of his shaft. It seemed unreal, like some obscene nightmare.
It did not take the Indian man long to bring himself to fulfillment. In a couple of minutes he was wheezing, pressing his foul-smelling crotch tightly to her face and bellowing with joy. “Yes… ahhh, yes, white whore… suuuccckkk iiitttt!”
Then Evelyn felt the pulse of his shaft and the squirts of his vile load as he came, filling her mouth with his scum. He relaxed his hold on her head but still firmly grasped a fistful of her hair. She pulled away, and the still spurting manhood launched a last ejaculation behind her pretty teeth. Nauseated and fearing she would retch, the white wife frantically spat out his load on the concrete floor.
“Let me have her now,” said the black man in the adjacent cell.
“Yea,” laughed the Indian. “Slide your foot back over to him,” he ordered Evelyn. She did so and the black man grabbed her foot, pressing his own shank into it.
“Suck me, too,” he muttered.
Evelyn just wanted the horrible interlude to end. She held her head steady as the black man raped her mouth as well. Again, in a short time he began to orgasm, just as the Indian man had. He kept the rhythm of his pelvis steady until he too came, sending another load into her mouth. Evelyn took it all, but made to pull away again to spit his foul essence from her mouth. This time, he continued to hold her head and drew himself from her slack jaw, then clamped his other hand tight over her lips. “Drink it white bitch,” he gasped, “Swallow it!”
A feeling of complete revulsion swept over her as she was forced to swallow. The black man watched her throat muscles bob and smiled, satisfied.
“Make her press her ass up to the bars,” suggested the Indian. “Then we can fuck her from behind!”
It wasn’t courage that gave Evelyn the impetus to move. It was her panic at the realization that she was about to be raped for real. While the black man was still catching his breath from having cum in her mouth, she suddenly twisted away, slipping from his grasp. She cowered back against the block wall, just out of reach of both men, whimpering and trying to wipe the excess semen from her lips.
“You stupid Baaff,” shouted the Indian. “You let her go!”
“She bolted on me,” said the black man furiously.
“Next time hold her fast,” said the Indian.
Evelyn’s only garment, the prison smock was still on the floor. But she was too afraid to pick it up, since she would have to move within grabbing distance of the Indian. So she sat huddled in the corner, naked, trying to cover her bare charms from the other hooting prisoners.
She felt so alone. She needed the protection and strength of a husband. “Oh Rick,” she whispered, shaking. “If only you were here. I need you so bad. I need you!”

“I’m sorry, Mrs. Kvindlog, there’s really not much the United States government can do to help at the moment, beyond finding a local solicitor for you.”
Evelyn had spent a long night in the ugly, concrete cell after she had escaped the other convict’s grasp. She had slept in fits, holding onto hope that American embassy would intercede and have her released. But the short, greasy white man sitting across the table didn’t inspire much confidence.
“You must get us released,” cried Evelyn. “Last night I was assaulted.”
“I can ask the Sudanese Ministry of Justice to investigate,” said the man. “But the United States has recently urged the government here to crack down on drug trafficking. We can’t ask them to simply turn loose one of our own nationals who has been caught running drugs. I’m sure we can get you and your husband back to America, Mrs. Kvindlog. But diplomacy takes time.”
“But Rick and I are innocent,” she protested. “We shouldn’t be in prison at all. Can’t you do anything? Tell them to let us see each other.”
“The Sudan is a sovereign country, Mrs. Kvindlog, we can’t tell them anything. You must realize that you’re going to be tried in their courts and be subject to their justice. We can lean on them a bit, but there are other considerations between the U.S. and the Sudan besides your case. It could take weeks to resolve your problem through channels. In the mean time, you could consider cutting a deal.”
“What do you mean?”
“Plead guilty in exchange for a light prison term. Cooperate. You might get better treatment while we work to get you out.”
Evelyn was outraged. “We’re not guilty! They… They’ve assaulted me sexually. They want me to…” She could not keep her face from flushing with shame. “Cheat on my husband… With black… With them.”
The embassy representative shrugged. “That’s about all I can suggest. Drug money was found in your husband’s car, and drugs were found in your house. The prosecutor has a very good case against you.”
“I can’t stay here!” said Evelyn desperately. “I was almost raped last night.”
“African prisons are no place for a woman,” said the little man. “Particularly young and attractive white woman. I wish I could help, but there’s really nothing we can do in the immediate future. You must be patient, Mrs. Kvindlog.”
He left, and Evelyn was taken back to her cell. Her Sudanese attorney arrived later that day, but he was even less sanguine about her chances than the embassy man, and he too was unable to effect her release.
During the next few days Evelyn was put out on a prison work detail, cleaning the floors and toilet stalls. No one assaulted her, but the male inmates were constantly watching for a chance to get at her, and she knew it was only a matter of time before they did.
The young wife had not been allowed to see, or even talk to her husband, and Evelyn’s anxiety was increased by worry for him. Was he safe? Was he being subjected to the same treatment as she was? Those were the questions that tormented her.
The work was backbreaking and hard, and the conditions were miserable, but she made it through, clinging to the hope that at her trial she would be found innocent.
Evelyn’s trial was an afternoon affair. It was held before a judge, who decided guilt or innocence. There was no jury. She was overjoyed to see Rick there, and she was allowed to sit with him in court. He seemed very worn by his days in the prison, and although Evelyn longed to talk to someone sympathetic, she did not want to burden him further by telling him how she had been abused.
“Rick, what happened? How did they find drugs in the car?”
“I don’t know,” he answered. “We’ve been set up somehow, I don’t know why. The man from the embassy said our parents have been barred from entering the country. Again, I don’t know why.”
“Oh Rick, why did we come here,” she cried. “What’s going to happen to us?”
“I don’t know,” he said, his head hanging. “I hope we’ll be acquitted, but… I don’t know, Evelyn.”
After that they were separated, and events seemed a blur. Court procedures were observed and evidence was submitted. Rick had been stopped at the border. In the trunk of his car was a brief case full of millions of Kenyan shillings, and $200,000 U.S. dollars. The house had been searched after Evelyn had been arrested, and the police had found a large cache of high-grade hashish, refined opium and other contraband, thus implicating her.
Rick and Evelyn were allowed to speak in their own behalf, but their testimony to the court was met with incredulity. They were found guilty in less than two hours, and the judge pronounced sentences immediately.
Rick received life in prison, and he broke down, crying like a child and pleading for mercy.
Evelyn nearly fainted when her sentence was read. Twenty years to life. Both terms were to be at hard labor. She sobbed into her hands as she saw the officers take custody of Rick. No tower of strength now, he did not even look at Evelyn as he was led away.

Evelyn Kvindlog was sure her life was over. She had seen the husband she loved led away to life in a filthy Sudanese prison, and herself sentenced to a minimum 20 years. That had been several days ago. Since then, she had spent mostly sleepless nights in her cell, just out of reach of the male inmates. She had been processed, and was going to be sent to a work camp. Though she had avoided being raped so far the inmates and guards alike had taunted her with the declaration that the camp she was headed for was “Rape City” and she had better learn the skills of a whore sooner than later.
The night before she was to be taken to the prison camp, she was summoned to the warden’s office without explanation. A guard escorted her to the door, unlocked it and pushed her in, leaving her behind and locking the door.
Evelyn sat and waited, nervously wondering what it was all about but thankful to be out of her terrifying cell, even for a few moments. She was startled by the sound of a key in the door- even more startled when the person who entered was Dr. Kamwego.
Hope, dead for the past week, sprang to new life in Evelyn’s heart. Though she feared and hated the man for what he had done to her, in the situation she was in, he now seemed like a savior.
“Dr. Kamwego… I… I…”
The large black man ignored her and sat in the warden’s chair, across from the desk. “Come here, Evelyn,” he said. “Kneel in front of me.”
Evelyn obeyed. She hated to have to grovel to this man, but she would do anything to avoid being sent back to the hell of her prison cell. Or perhaps worse, the rape camp. “Please doctor… Please help us. Rick and I have been wrongly convicted as…”
“Quiet,” snapped Kamwego. “At my request, and in light of your young age, the judge had decided to give you a chance at rehabilitation. You’re being released to church custody tonight. There are a few conditions for your release,” he said.
Evelyn knew that he undoubtedly would want sex from her, and she knew that by agreeing to his terms she would be tacitly submitting to his advances. She also knew she had no choice. One week in a Sudanese prison had convinced her that even being exposed to the doctor’s sexual abuse was far better than the rape camp. Biting her lower lip, she nodded and lowered her eyes in submission. “What do I… what do I have to do?” she asked finally, resignation and defeat in her voice.
“You must agree to obey all the laws of the church. They will be taught to you by one of your kind. A white woman who has learned her place. If you violate the rules of the church, I will punish you or send you back to prison at my discretion. Do you understand this?”
“Yes. Yes, sir,” she choked, still on her knees.
He reached down to lift her chin. “You are quite beautiful. Let’s get you out of this shit-hole, then we shall decide how you can best serve the church.”



Chapter 8

When Evelyn was dropped off at her house that night, she was so tired that all she wanted was a shower and sleep.
When she walked through the door however, she found things moved around and changed. Some of the furniture was gone, and there were several new pieces. She and Rick’s personal effects were missing. At first she thought that someone must have burglarized the house. But what thief would bring in new items?
The entire decoration of the house was much more ‘African” in flavor. A large woven-grass rug featuring African motifs covered much of the living room floor. Everywhere there was African art and ornamentation. She went to the bedroom to see if anything was missing, and stopped dead in the doorway. The huge gardener was there, lying on the bed. He was wearing only a wrap about his waist, and Evelyn could clearly see the extraordinary quality of his physic. It did not appear that she had awakened him, so she quietly left the room.
As threatened as she felt with the gardener in the house, Evelyn knew she couldn’t leave. She was in no mood to brave the African outdoors overnight. And if she got caught, the doctor might think she was trying to escape again. There way no way that she was in a condition to confront him, and she was not going to force this huge brute of a black man to leave the house. She decided to sleep on the couch in the living room for the night, and see what could be done about more permanent accommodations later. N’Gono seemed to be sleeping deeply in the bedroom, so she thought it was all right to take a shower. After several days in the prison she was desperate for one.
The bathroom seemed undisturbed by whoever had made the changes. She removed her smock, turned on the water and stepped into the stall. Evelyn was at last alone with time to think. The events of recent days had left her mind spinning, her psyche off balance. She had expected the doctor to take her back to the villa and rape her again, and had done her best to steel herself for that eventuality. She had been puzzled when he’d simply taken her home, but too fatigued to think much on it.
Then Evelyn thought she heard a rustling outside the shower. She was about to stick her head around the curtain when it opened. Evelyn startled and caught her breath. There, standing before her was N’Gono. He was naked, in all his black, savage glory.
“N’Gono like rain room,” he said, smiling. Before she could protest he stepped into the shower with her.
“White woman is welcome in my house,” he said. As the hot water streamed over them he put his hands behind his head and flexed his incredible muscles.
Evelyn stood amid the rising steam, too afraid to protest and covering her breasts and mons as best she could. Her eyes however, were involuntarily drawn to his heroic manhood, dangling from the juncture of his legs. It was uncircumcised and huge. Though flaccid it was still much larger than Rick’s when his was erect.
N’Gono seemed mildly perturbed at her demure. “You not try to hide you body, woman. You in African man’s house.”
“Please… you don’t understand, N’Gono. I’m married. My vows to Rick… HHHaaaaaaa!”
He slapped her hard in the face. Evelyn’s blood ran cold. It was the first time this enormous man had done anything violent to her.
“Woman not speak of white man. He gone. White woman belong to N’Gono now! Drop arms. White woman behave properly in N’Gono’s house.”
Frightened and wide-eyed, Evelyn obeyed.
N’Gono smiled. The storm of his anger had passed as suddenly as it had appeared. “Woman bathe N’Gono now.”
Fearful of sparking his anger again, Evelyn took the soap and began to tentatively rub it on his shoulder. She was very uncomfortable using her hands on his body, but there was no wash cloth in the shower. She worked the soap over his chest raising the suds and lathering his torso and arms. He turned slowly and Evelyn knew he wanted her to wash his back as well.
His muscles were so hard, and so smooth, his skin so black. The contrast of her white hands moving over it intrigued her. There was almost an aura of power that exuded from the man, and Evelyn felt a bit lightheaded. She was naked and alone with him, and he could do exactly as he pleased with her.
Evelyn finished his back and he turned again. She knelt and lathered his sinuous legs from top to bottom. She reached down to wash his feet and he lifted each to help her. Everything about him was so big and tough and strong. She knew this man could easily crush the life from Rick, even if he were here to protect her.
At last, Evelyn looked up to work on the one part of his anatomy she had not washed, his massive genitals. She stood, pausing with apprehension and expecting a slap or other admonishment for stopping. None came. She looked up into his face and saw he was staring at her naked chest. He slowly brought his hand up to touch her right breast and the nipple hardened instantly under his fingers.
“N’Gono never have white woman before,” he said softly.
Evelyn was trying to breathe evenly. Intellectually she knew he intended to have sex with her. She had resigned herself to sex with the doctor as the price of staying out of prison until help came from her family or the U.S. embassy. Now she was faced with the demands of this man. Her mind reeled with conflicting emotions. N’Gono was much more attractive than Kamwego. But if she submitted to him she would then have cheated on Rick with two different men, and somehow that seemed worse. A second later she was shocked by the way she had been thinking. I don’t find any black men attractive, she told herself. I don’t! N’Gono was just an ugly savage like Kamwego- wasn’t he?
What deeply troubled her was the reaction she’d had with the doctor- the same reaction that was building within her now. She could live with being forced into sex. But enjoying the act seemed like even more of a betrayal of her vows. She couldn’t let N’Gono make her feel the same things the doctor had.
He palmed her breast, and Evelyn felt his fingers kneading it. His touch was strong and insistent, yet in no way brutal. She saw his face and knew in that moment that this man would not hurt her without reason. He did not require her to feel pain, only to serve him. She gasped when he brought his other hand to her sex. He delved through the crease gently and found her wetness, slicker than the water. He knew how she was responding to him.
“You good woman. Have needs like Dinka woman. You need Dinka cock.”
Then she touched it. It twitched in her hand and she could actually feel it swelling, stiffening in her tenuous grasp. Evelyn felt another pang of guilt. She was married and there was no way she should be doing this. But she had no choice, she told herself. And when she and Rick gained release, he would never have to know.
She soaped her hands and applied the suds to N’Gono’s manhood. It was now throbbing, erect and pointing directly at her navel. His testicles hung low, heavy and potent as she washed them gently with her soft fingers.
The showerhead was on a hose and Evelyn detached it from the wall. She directed the stream all over his body, washing the soap away and rinsing herself as well. When she was finished she replaced the hose and turned, intending to shut the water off and step out. But his hand on her shoulder stopped her. She felt him lift her chin, then was astonished when he leaned down and kissed her tenderly on the lips.
She stepped back and looked at his ebony face through round eyes. He was so overpoweringly masculine!
Then she saw his thick lips descend to hers once more, but not with tender mildness. This time he clamped his mouth to hers, plundering and devouring with his tongue and teeth ravishing with all the passion of his Dinka soul. He seemed to suck the breath from her lungs as he held her head firmly in the grasp of both hands.
“NNNnnn… hhhhmmmmuuuggg…” she grunted, trying to breathe. When he released her she was compelled to gasp for air, dazed and panting.
“N’Gono!”
He seized her by the hips then, lifting her effortlessly with his powerful arms. He shoved her to the wall roughly, pinning her back to the tile. His great pulsing manhood was poised at her sex, and Evelyn felt the head, pushing, probing at her labia. “N’Gono claim you now, white woman,” he whispered forcefully. “Put N’Gono in!”
Evelyn hesitated with a whimper, but his grip tightened with painful warning on the flesh of her hips. She reached down with trembling hands, found his cock and guided the black head to her most secret core. It lodged there between the pink folds.
“Get legs around N’Gono,” he ordered. “Now!”
Fear of falling as well as fear of his wrath forced Evelyn’s compliance. She wrapped her legs about his sturdy pelvis and placed her hands on his broad shoulders. Then she uttered a long gasp as he relaxed his support of her frame and allowed her to slither down the wall, slowly impaling herself on his dark manhood.
“Ah… Aaahhh… aaahhuuhhh… Oh please… it’s so big!”
N’Gono was flexing his hips and pushing himself up, even as she sank lower, and his manhood sank deeper. His phallus was the largest she had ever felt. Bigger even than Dr. Kamwego’s.
“N’Gono,” Evelyn whined, pressing against his buttocks with her bare heels to try and slow the entry of his shaft. The effort merely clenched her body tighter to his frame.
N’Gono’s Negroid face was smiling. He grunted with masculine triumph when the spongy head of his penis pressed into her cervix. The descent ended, and Evelyn felt a hot tingle as her clit contacted the root of his black baton.
“You… you’re… in me… All the way now!” she panted.
His mouth returned to hers and ravished it even more savagely now. He flexed his lower back downward and withdrew some length from her stretched vagina, only to thrust forward again into her depths.
Evelyn groaned, but her sheath was adjusting to his size. His kiss seemed to go on forever while the overstuffed sensation in her vagina faded. With each passing second her libido was awakening again. The feel of his body and cock were charging her needs.
He began to rut, moving in and out with methodical rhythm. The warm flow of the shower continued to rain down on them and the stall had become steamy, the air thick like the lust building in Evelyn’s brain.
“Haaahhhh,” he breathed into her ear. “White woman need… Dinka cock…”
“I can… feel you so deep…” she moaned. “Oh please… N’Gono… hhuuuu… I can’t… soooo deeeep… UUUHHHHH! Take me! Ha, haaa, ahhh. Evelyn convulsed as her mind disintegrated in a shattering orgasm. Her vagina tightened around his African manhood as if it held life itself, while her hips undulated and churned with coital urgency. When her mind cleared enough for conscious thought she gazed into his face again.
His smile was still there, and his phallus still rock hard and fully erect inside her.
“Woman like Dinka man-cock,” he laughed.
Momentarily spent, Evelyn rested her head on his collarbone. But he began to move again, pumping her with long, ardent strokes. She fit his cock perfectly now and they seemed made for each other. Steady now, with a rhythm as ancient and bold as Africa itself, he plied her.
Evelyn had never felt so helpless. Trapped against the wall with this giant black native brutally thrusting the full length of his thick maleness in and out of her married white belly. She had never felt such pleasure and desire. It went on and on as he honed her. Time and urgency dissipated in the foggy room as the lovers experienced each other- time marked only by the cadence of his thrusts and the slow rebuilding of her need back to fever pitch.
At last, the pace of his thrusts quickened and Evelyn’s climax broke. He stopped, to grind his loins into her with crushing pressure and fasten his hungry lips to hers. Then she felt the liquid explosion in her depths. Evelyn screamed into his enveloping mouth as his semen splashed in searing torrents into her belly.
Again the room swirled about her. Evelyn started to go limp, but was forced to cling to his hips with her legs and keep his penis inside of her to avoid collapsing to the hard tile floor. She expected him to put her down, but he held her there for some time, impaled on his still rampant shaft.
He reached behind her to shut off the water, then stepped out of the stall, still hold her mounted on his manhood. Evelyn was still in a daze but marveled at his strength, He handled her so easily, walking into the bedroom and sitting on the bed. Laying back and pulling her on top on him. All without breaking the fusion of their genitals.
“Work for it,” he said. “White woman work for more N’Gono seed.” Evelyn was very tired, but he enforced his command by seizing her
throat and lifting, forcing her to bring her feet under her to relieve the weight on her neck. As she squatted on him he let go, and Evelyn sank back onto his shaft. She looked at him, her breath heavy and body immobile with indecision. She had never had sex in anything but the missionary position. This obscene posture, squatting like some primitive pre-human, seemed so wanton and bestial. It required her to act, to participate in her own violation. But she worried he would become hostile again, or even throw her out of the house. Biting her lower lip she began to rock coitally, looking into his face to see if he approved.
“Fuck N’Gono,” he growled. “Learn what N’Gono like after hard day work.”
Evelyn’s inhibition vanished as she felt his cock swell. She placed her hands on his ebony chest, and began to lift and drop herself with a fast rhythm. Their mingled cum, frothing white and running lewdly down his shaft provided ample lubrication. Soon Evelyn was bouncing in ecstasy on his length, pumping against the bed with the balls of her feet and digging her toes into the sheets.
N’Gono reached up to cup her breasts as they gyrated with her motions. She came quickly, primed by her two previous orgasms.
“Uuhhh! Uuuhh, uuhhh, uuuuhh, my god! UUUUYYYHHHH!” Evelyn threw her head back and the ceiling spun like a vortex as her climax raged and her belly roiled on his stiffness. Then the bright bubble popped.
Evelyn crashed onto his black chest, utterly expended. But N’Gono was still hard.
He held the woman by the ribs and rolled over onto her. Then, still mounted, he began to fuck her languid form with savage intensity. Despite her fatigue, Evelyn’s body responded- now open and accepting as never before due to exhaustion. She held onto him, needing to feel his strength and energy. Her hands clasped tightly under his arms, her delicate white feet waving behind his buttocks with each forward lunge of his hips. Evelyn had become the image of the slave girl of Africa’s past. A captured white bride bereft of the husband of her own race and cringing submissively under her new black master. Being broken to the duties of a new life with a massive African cock plundering her very womb.
N’Gono bellowed and Evelyn felt his eruption once again, bloating her already full vagina and spilling into her uterine cavity. Then as a fourth orgasm tore from her lungs the room went dark. Evelyn swooned beneath his weight.
She had literally been fucked into unconsciousness.



Chapter 9

When Evelyn awoke the next morning she was naked, and lying on top of the heavily rumpled bed. N’Gono had gone to work and she was alone.
She swung her legs to the floor as waves of the darkest guilt washed over her. She had betrayed Rick again. This time with the black gardener. It was bad enough to have to suffer the advances of other men for a time, but to become caught up as she had last night? What could she do? What if Rick or her family found out? She was so confused! The young white wife buried her head in her hands and cried for half an hour.
As memories of the previous night assaulted her mind, it went strangely numb. She staggered into the bathroom and looked at herself in the mirror. The woman who stared back seemed to be a different person. She was not wearing the tidy little nightgown she always slept in and wore in the morning, (even after having sex with Rick she would habitually slip into it). Her hair was a mess, breasts and nipples sore and tingling, and a dull ache throbbed between her legs. On the side of her face she could still see the red mark of N’Gono’s slap, now fading, but still bearing shameful witness to her weakness and capitulation. She gazed on herself with mixed wonder and horror as the events of the night before unfolded in her mind.
How could it be? She thought. How could this moment have ever come about? Evelyn Kvindlog regarding herself in a mirror- the morning after she had been raped again! What did she expect to see?
It was almost surreal. She’d had sex with another man, another black man! Yet now she was astonished at how normal she looked. The image in the glass was still Evelyn Kvindlog, the same face and body she had always known. But she had been defiled. By that man, and by herself. What right did she have to look the same!
Now there were tears flowing down her cheeks. Evelyn hugged herself and wept. She was afraid and ashamed, but managed to pull herself together enough to think. It could never happen again, she thought with determination. Somehow she would find a way to be faithful to Rick from now on and he would never have to know.
It was not her fertile time of the month, but her birth-control pills were still in the little box in the medicine cabinet. As a precaution she took one.
Then she remembered that someone had changed the house around in her absence. In the bedroom one of the chests of drawers was missing. The other was filled with men’s clothing, mostly heavy work garments. The closets were empty, but there was a small dresser in the corner that contained African women’s clothing; rectangular cloths of varying sizes, a couple of head scarves and some primitive looking leather and bead adornments. There were also some bathing suits, small two piece bikinis and thongs. Evelyn looked at them and decided they would look extremely revealing on a woman. They were not traditional African clothing, but they were very bright, and had something of an African cut to them.
With nothing else to wear, Evelyn donned the prison smock and explored the house, bewildered by the changes. She found that the rest of the clothing in the house had been removed, even what had been in boxes. Also curious was the fact there were no shoes or stockings, except a couple of pair of men’s. They were very large and did not belong to Rick.
She was still shaking her head, wondering what was going on when she was startled by knocking at the front door. Evelyn went to answer it, hoping it wasn’t the doctor.
It was her friend Julie, still wearing the odd African clothes, and carrying a baby on her shoulder in a kind of sling.
“Ju… Julie?”
“Well, you’re sleeping late,” said Julie sympathetically. “Dr. Kamwego told me to come by and help you- ah, teach you about the church.”
“I… ah… come in.” Evelyn was suddenly mindful of her own disheveled condition, but she was thankful to see a friendly face that she knew. She was shocked anew however, when her young friend reached up casually, and pulled her own top off upon entering the house. Her lovely, tan breasts sprung out, obviously swollen with milk.
“Evelyn, are you all right? I know how bad that prison is. Some girls are never the same when they get out of there.”
“No, I’m… I’m fine. I just don’t know what’s going on here. Someone has changed everything in my house and stolen some of my things… I… I miss Rick and… I wish I were back in America…” she began crying and Julie laid a comforting arm around her shoulders.
“I know. I was hard for me too. It’s that way for all of us at first. But you’ll adapt. You’ll learn the rules and how to act. It’s not so bad then.”
Evelyn nodded, still confused but grateful for Julie’s sympathy. “Can… can I see your baby?”
“Of course,” said Julie proudly. She picked up the child and opened the little cloth sling he was wrapped in. Evelyn thought he was a beautiful boy, obviously of mixed race. “He has my mouth,” said Julie, handing him to Evelyn. “His father’s African genes are dominant everywhere else.”
Both girls smiled and giggled. It seemed so unreal to Evelyn, to be talking as Julie stood there bare breasted. Julie acted like there was nothing out of the ordinary, but Evelyn remembered her as such an overly modest girl and wondered how she could expose herself like that. It was disconcerting. Somehow however, the baby had a way of calming tensions and conveying a sense that everything was going to be all right. They watched as he squirmed a little in his sleep, the Negroid features of his tiny face, so serene.
Julie tended to the child for a moment, and Evelyn was suddenly very curious.
“Julie, what about Tom?” Evelyn was immediately sorry she had asked, because Julie looked away, as if Evelyn had brought up a taboo subject.
“I’m sorry,” said Evelyn. “It’s just, last time I saw you, you two were the perfect couple, so much in love. What happened?”
“Evelyn, I think it’s time we went over some of the rules. One of them is that we never, ever, talk about, or refer to our white ex-husbands. Especially in the presence of the black men. You’ll get a severe beating if you do.”
“But Rick is not an Ex,” said Evelyn.
“Evelyn, he’s no longer a part of your life. Dr. Kamwego has given you to N’Gono and you must give your loyalty to him.”
Evelyn frowned. “I don’t understand. What do you mean he’s given me to someone?”
“N’Gono is a new church member from the Dinka tribe. It’s the doctor’s custom to welcome a new member by giving him a white woman.”
Evelyn’s eyes widened. “You mean he… I’m…?”
“Yes, Evelyn. You belong to N’Gono now and he will take Rick’s place in your life. You will live with him, serve him, sleep with him, and most of all, fuck him. This is the African way.”
“But… I can’t… Rick’s also a member.”
Julie was shaking her head. “Rick’s not a member. There are no white men in the church. You might see a few white men around but they aren’t members.”
“But I’m married to Rick,” said Evelyn, crying with mixed anger and incredulity. “How can I…?”
Julie put a comforting arm around her and pulled her to the couch. “Evelyn,” she said gently. “You must accept that your relationship with Rick is over, just as I had to forget about Tom. I know it’s hard, but you have no choice. It will be for the best, you’ll see.”
Evelyn looked up at her friend with tears on her face. She was frightened, but her resolve held. “No. This is only temporary. The American government is going to get us released and we’ll go back to the states. I just have to get by until then…”
Julie smiled knowingly. “I know it’s hard to accept. I felt the same way. I was sure Tom and I would…”
“Julie, what happened to Tom? Please don’t be angry with me for asking.”
Julie didn’t answer; she smiled warmly and enigmatically for a brief moment. “I’ll tell you later, Evelyn. Just don’t ask in front of one of the black men. Right now I need to help you get dressed. You’ve got to get out of that wretched prison rag!”
Julie checked her baby, then took Evelyn to the bedroom, and opened the little dresser.
“Ah, here we are,” said Julie. She took one of the colorful cloths from the drawer. It was a simple rectangle about half a meter wide by a meter and a half, and made of soft airy cotton. “Take off that smock. I’ll show you how to wear this.”
Evelyn pulled the ugly garment over her head. She was a little self-conscious standing in the nude, even though it was only Julie standing there.
“This is called a ‘kanga.’ Wrap it around you, like so,” said Julie. “Then tuck it in and tie it off here at the side.”
Evelyn copied the girl. “I… I don’t have any panties…”
“Underclothes aren’t worn with traditional African clothing,” said Julie. “Here, take the smaller kanga and tie the two ends together. Then place your neck through and bring it down to hold your breasts.”
Julie tied it for Evelyn. It fit like a sling around her neck and Julie pulled it down to hold her breasts, adjusting and fitting it so it was comfortable. “There,” she said.
Evelyn looked at herself in the mirror. The wrap at her waist covered her legs to just above the knees. But it hung low on her hips. It was the top that gave Evelyn the most concern. “It doesn’t cover much,” she fretted. “My whole back is bare!”
Julie shrugged. “You must wear something that is cool, and can be removed easily.”
“Why removed easily?” asked Evelyn. “What’s wrong with a blouse and bra?”
“You must uncover your breasts when you enter a black man’s house, Evelyn. The top kanga’s only for when you go out. Even then you must take it off when black man tells you to.”
Evelyn frowned, but Julie reached up and pulled the material from her friend’s chest and lifted it over her head.
“You must have it off in case N’Gono comes home.”
Evelyn sighed. There was no way she was going to remove her top all the time in her own house, in front of that black gardener! She tucked the top kanga under her waist wrap the way Julie showed her.
“We need to go soon,” said Evelyn. “We have work to do down on the lakeshore.”
“All my shoes are gone,” said Evelyn.
“We aren’t allowed to wear shoes,” said Julie. “White women are always barefoot. We wear traditional African clothing. Dr. Kamwego says it helps break our pride and our western identities. It promotes a feeling of humility and dependence. We can’t travel far on our own, and we know we belong to Africa because we can feel the heat of the ground and the roughness of the road.”
The baby awoke and began to cry. Julie hurried into the living room, picked up the baby and held him to her naked breast. His little carob colored lips found her enlarged, dark red nipple and surrounded it. Evelyn noticed that Julie seemed to coo and hold the child’s head to her breast lovingly. Evelyn was surprised when she headed out the door with the baby still suckling hungrily at her breast.
“Shouldn’t we stay here until he’s been fed?” asked Evelyn, putting her own top back on before she opened the door. “You need privacy, Julie.”
“White women breastfeed in public here all the time,” said Julie, licking her infant’s head affectionately. “We must hurry. There’s lots of work to do.”
Evelyn quickly put her top back on and the women headed down the walkway to the beach. Evelyn was thankful that the gravel on the path was smoothly rounded and did not hurt her feet.
The shoreline of the lake was dotted with small beach houses. Shacks really, which consisted of little more than four walls, a roof, and a bed and a toilet. Each had an outdoor shower as well. All of them had been recently used, and the girls set about cleaning the rooms and toilets and putting the beds to order. About mid-day they were joined by two more white women, who brought them lunch.
Vicky and Deanna were also white, and dressed the same as Evelyn and Julie. Both of them also had their hair braided and interwoven with beads in the African style. And both of them had the tribal tattoos on their lower backs. Deanna was blonde, about twenty-five. She had a black baby about the same age as Julie’s. Vicky was much younger, sixteen or eighteen at the most and a very lovely, delicate redhead. She was also very pregnant, and her protruding belly often undulated with little kicks from her energetic fetus. The four of them sat in the shade and ate the simple lunch of sandwiches and fruit.
“How long have you been in the church?” asked Deanna of Evelyn.
“My hus…” Evelyn caught herself. “I got here two weeks ago from the U.S.” said Evelyn.
“I’m from Britain,” said Deanna. “Vicky’s from America.”
“I came to Kenya to be a nanny,” said the younger girl. “I was working for a white family in Nairobi. One night when my employers were gone I went to sleep, and woke up here. I’ve been here about nine months.”
“Deanna’s been here almost two years,” said Julie. “She got here right after I did.”
The women talked all through lunch. Evelyn found she was very at ease with them and realized how much she had missed female companionship. They talked about their babies and Vicky’s pregnancy, about the weather and their little huts. But most of all they discussed the black men they were living with. Evelyn did not hear a single word about ex white husbands, although Evelyn suspected that Deanna at least had been married. She wondered if perhaps the women mistrusted each other and feared punishment from the black men.
When lunch was over, the four of them worked on the beach huts and finished cleaning them by dusk. Then Julie walked Evelyn back to her house.
“Goodnight, Tomorrow we work in the villa,” said Julie, “and work on you.”
“Goodnight Julie,” said Evelyn. “Thanks for being a friend.”
Her friend smiled and left, but Evelyn wondered what Julie’s last phrase meant.



Chapter 10

Evelyn walked through the door of her home and discovered N’Gono was not yet there. She was determined to avoid him, partially because she did not trust her own body. She took a shower, and then borrowed a blanket from the bedroom so that she could sleep on the couch.
He entered the house while she was still in the living room. Evelyn thought nothing of it and had her back turned when he suddenly grabbed her by the hair and threw her to the floor. Caught totally by surprise, she looked up to see his face a mask of rage.
“Wha… what’s wrong… please, I didn’t do anything…” she gasped.
“White woman learn respect,” he shouted. “White woman learn obey!” Before she could react, he was tying her hands with a leather cord and running a rope between them. Then he threw a length of the rope over one of the rafters in the living room.
“Please. What did I do?” she cried.
He ignored her and pulled the rope, hoisting her up by the wrists until she was almost suspended. Then he tied the rope off.
N’Gono turned her body to toward him and slapped her face repeatedly.
“What’s wrong?” she sobbed. “Please tell me why you’re doing this!”
“White woman insult N’Gono! White woman cover her teats in N’Gono house! White woman not kneel when N’Gono enter his house!”
Then Evelyn saw that the big black man had a long, thin rod in his hand. He yanked the top over her head, spilling her breasts into the open. Then Evelyn knew. She had failed to take off her top, as Julie had warned her she must.
“Please… I didn’t mean to insult you… I didn’t know!
He pulled her waist kanga off, leaving her naked, dangling from her wrists. Evelyn closed her eyes, embarrassed at being so exposed. And he surprised her again.
AAAAAAIIIIIIIEEEEEEE!” The most excruciating pain Evelyn had
ever felt exploded onto her chest. She opened her eyes wide as she realized he was actually whipping her for not removing her top! She was so uncomfortable with the idea, and the rule had seemed so trivial that she had simply disregarded Julie’s warning. Now he meant to whip her! With that stiff rod!
“White woman obey N’Gono!” he shouted. “White woman never disrespect N’Gono again.”
“AAAAIIIIEEEEE!” she screamed with the next lash. “Please, I won’t do it again. I won’t! AAAAAGGGGGHHHHHHHH!”
He began laying the rod across her sensitive breasts with savage force, punishing the area of her body involved with her infraction. The message was driven home with hideous clarity. She had committed a major breach with her rebellious modesty.
“AAAAUUUHHHAAAA! GOD IT HURTS PLEASE I SWEAR N’GONO! Huuaahh… Please, I’ll never… HHAAAAAAAAHHHH!”
Evelyn was sobbing hysterically, but he had finally stopped. “Please… I’ll… take my… top… off… Oh please… don’t whip me anymore!”
N’Gono grunted and was scowling at her, but she could see his anger was abated. He lowered her arms and released her wrists from the bindings.
“I’m sorry. I forgot… about your customs,” she whimpered, trying to catch her breath.
His face softened, but there was still and edge to his voice. “Woman not share N’Gono’s bed tonight. Woman must learn.”
He dragged her by the hair, outside, into the desert night, as she stumbled and tried to keep her balance. Perhaps a hundred meters from the house he stopped. There was an old tree standing alone with a rusty chain attached to the trunk, apparently intended to restrain a dog. He wrapped the end about Evelyn’s neck and closed the links with a padlock. Then he left and walked went back to the house, leaving her alone and naked in the desert.
Evelyn staggered to her feet and looked back wistfully in the
direction of the house. The lights were just visible beyond a rise, glimmering in the distance. She watched for a long time, waiting for him to return, telling herself that he certainly wouldn’t abandon her like this.
“N’Gono?” She called weakly. “N’Gono… please come back…” There was no answer but the mournful cry of the wind. Bewilderment gradually gave way to panic as she realized he might intend to leave her there, at least for the night.
“N’Gono, please. I’ll obey the rules, I promise.” Her voice was small and frightened now, and the vast, dark expanse of wilderness seemed to close in about her.
Very frightened, Evelyn wrapped her arms protectively around her soft female body. “N’Gono,” she shouted toward the house. “Please don’t leave me alone!”
The lights went out in the house and Evelyn’s panic surged. She stood there for a long time, hoping, pleading to herself that he would come back. She knew there were wild animals about in these parts and kept thinking there were eyes and shadows stalking her. Finally, she sat down, then curled up in a ball beside the old weathered tree.
After a time Evelyn tried to sleep, but it was difficult to get comfortable on the hard, unforgiving earth. Her troubled mind kept playing tricks on her. She heard movement in the brush and several times screamed when she thought some ravenous beast was approaching.
Evelyn thought about N’Gono and what had happened that night. Her breasts still smarted from his brutal punishment, but strangely enough she did not hate him. In fact she was inexplicably drawn to him. Ironically, she had come home last evening determined to make a stand for her vows with Rick and not to sleep with the big Dinka. Now she longed for the warmth of his bed. And it was N’Gono she thought about, N’Gono she wished to cuddle to, N’Gono who represented security and in whose arms she yearned to be- not Rick.
Evelyn held herself closer, shivering. Though it was a balmy African evening, there was a bit of a chill in the air for a naked woman sleeping outside. The night seemed to last forever. She managed to sleep for awhile, but was haunted by fitful dreams, until a hint of dawn shone faint in the eastern sky.
She heard footsteps. Evelyn bit her lower lip and closed her eyes, trying to remain perfectly still. Was it N’Gono- or something else coming to devour her?
She opened her eyes and gritted her teeth with fear when a large, black figure loomed over her in the dim light. Then she felt the key in the lock and opened her eyes. It was N’Gono!
He gave her water from a canteen and unwrapped the chain from her neck. Evelyn impulsively embraced him. She buried her face in his thick black neck, crying wordlessly and clinging to him tightly.
He led her back on his muscular, black arm, holding her lest she stumble on stiff legs. Evelyn’s mind cleared slowly as they walked back, but the lesson had been learned. She was a woman, weak and helpless in a wild African land. She needed a man to protect her and provide for her basic needs.
At least for now, that man was N’Gono- and no other.
They reached the house as the sky was turning red and the stars were fading. Evelyn was still slightly disoriented and did not resist as he bent her nude form over the arm of the couch. He pushed her legs apart and reached under to stroke in circles around nub her clit.
Evelyn was instantly wet for him, and his thick manhood seemed to slide in much easier than before. With one thrust he had gored her with his full ten inches. The white woman grunted, feeling him once more at the entrance of her womb.
“N’Gono!” she gasped.
He reached around to play with her breasts, squeezing and pulling at her tits as if milking them. Inside her belly, his thick, black foreskin dragged her vaginal walls sending sparks up her spine. The sensations were overpowering, but subtly different from their previous coupling. She had never been taken from behind by Rick and the feeling was oddly impersonal and animalistic- and exciting as well. N’Gono’s cock was touching her in places that had never been touched, and causing sensations that had never been sensed. And he was deeper than ever before.
Once again she was turning to putty at the end of his black manhood, becoming a mindless shape of female need. He pulled her head back by the hair and began humping her rapidly, causing her nipples to rasp back and forth over the fabric of the couch.
“You belong N’Gono, white woman. You obey N’Gono in his house!”
“Yes… yes…” she screamed in lust fogged delirium. “I belong to you! N’Gono, I belong to you!”
Then Evelyn felt his cock swell, and the floodgates open. He pressed himself fast against her, holding her back by her long hair as he emptied his balls into the clasping confines of her belly. Then he released her, and her face dropped to the seat of the couch. He lay over her, letting his weight settle on her form.
He was heavy, but Evelyn was still cold, and the warmth of his upper body on her back felt good. His huge organ was still lodged inside her, and when he withdrew it, Evelyn felt a sense of genuine loss.
N’Gono said nothing to her. He merely got up and dressed, leaving her there. After he left a few moments later, she dragged herself to the shower and crashed into the bed, thinking just before she nodded off that the sheets were still warm, and smelled of his manly body.

Two hours latter she was awakened again. Julie was at the front door pounding and shouting.
“Evelyn wake up! We have a lot to do at the villa.”
Evelyn rose and dressed quickly in her kangas. She felt much better now but was still a bit unsteady when she answered the door.
“What’s wrong with you? You look like you slept with the jackals!”
Evelyn told Julie what had happened, and her friend was not very sympathetic. “I warned you, Evelyn. African men don’t tolerate any rebellion from their women.”
“But I wasn’t rebelling,” said Evelyn.
“In his eyes you were. By keeping your top on it was as though you were trying to hide something. Something that belongs to him. He won’t allow that.”
Evelyn looked away miserably, but Julie smiled. “Come on. We’ve got to get to the villa. The old shamaness is going to make you look more presentable to N’Gono.”
They made their way to the big house on the hill. Julie’s baby was asleep in the sling on her back. On the way he awoke, and the woman once again pulled the top from her breast and held the child to her nipple to feed.
A little further on they encountered three black men on the path. Evelyn expected Julie to turn away or cover up until they passed by. But the young mother made no effort to do so; indeed, she stood and greeted them bare-breasted as if it were all very normal.
Evelyn felt a little nervous when they stopped.
“You’re Ayang’s woman,” said one of the men to Julie as he put an arm around her. “He has you with child again.”
“Yes, sir,” said Julie, smiling.
The two other men stood beside Evelyn and she stiffened as she felt their hands groping and caressing her naked back.
The man beside Julie tousled her hair and palmed her breast for a moment. “Come to my hut tonight, if Ayang approves. He can have Sarah while you’re with me.”
“Yes, sir,” said Julie. “I will ask him, sir.”
The man kissed Julie passionately on the lips. The white woman embraced him with one arm, still holding her baby in the other, and kissed him back.
Evelyn stood by in passive silence. Julie had always been so standoffish in college. Evelyn knew she had never even dated any of the white boys there her first year. And she had never seen Julie with anyone but Tom.
As they stood talking, the black men continued to play with Evelyn’s body. One of them pushed his hand under her wrap and was fondling her buttocks. The other was gently squeezing her breast through the thin fabric.
“Who is this girl?” asked the man holding Julie.
“She’s new. She belongs to N’Gono. Don’t you, Evelyn?”
Evelyn was forced to acknowledge the statement, thinking the men might stop feeling her up. It stuck in her throat.
“Ah… Yes, I’m with N’Gono.”
All the men laughed. “Good,” said one of them. “He’ll have her knocked up soon and we can all share her.”
Evelyn had been standing stock stiff trying her best not to react to the black hands that were roaming over her body. When the first man slid his fingers into her rear crease and found her puckered anus however, she groaned and twisted away from him violently.
The man seemed shocked. He slapped her across the face and had removed a whip from his belt when Julie spoke.
“Please sir, she’s new. She doesn’t know African ways yet.”
“I’ll teach her with my whip!” he replied.
“Maybe it’d be better to let N’Gono teach her for now,” said the man with Julie. “She’s his woman.”
The man’s eyes narrowed. “N’Gono went to his village this week, to recruit more of his clan to the church.”
“Still, she’s his woman.”
“All right,” Evelyn’s assailant said reluctantly, coiling his whip. “You will learn our ways, woman!”
“Stiff-neck white bitch,” said the other man.
Julie and the first man kissed goodbye. The men went on their way, and the women continued up to the villa.
“That was close, Evelyn,” said Julie. “I thought he was going to thrash you right there.”
“But the was touching my… my…”
“You don’t disobey the churches rules just because a man wants to finger-fuck your asshole for a bit, Evelyn. You better be prepared. I’m sure N’Gono is going to hear of this when he gets back.”
Evelyn felt a chill when she considered N’Gono’s displeasure, but figured with any luck, the U.S. Embassy or her family could get her out of the country by then. She was profoundly embarrassed and wanted to change the subject.
“You’re… You’re pregnant, Julie?”
“Yes.”
“How did he know?”
“He saw my anklet,” said Julie.
“I don’t understand.”
“An African man wants to make sure that a woman who belongs to him bears his child. Once she is confirmed pregnant though, he will trade her or loan her to another black friend or associate. That is the custom in many parts of Africa. An anklet worn on a woman’s right leg is a sign that her man is offering her to others.”
Evelyn gasped. You mean any of these men could take… take you to bed?”
“Any of these men can fuck me, Evelyn. Get the terms straight. White women are here to fuck. That’s our role in the church.”
Evelyn was outraged. “How can they treat us like this. It’s barbaric!”
Julie stopped. “Evelyn, that is exactly how the whites treated the Africans here a century ago. Black women were forced into white men’s homes and beds. They were forced to adopt the white’s mode of dress, culture, religion, and government. Dr. Kamwego has said that now that the black man has come into his own, the white woman is to be treated in the same way. We are to adopt African dress and mores. We are to serve in the black man’s homes. The doctor says it’s all a matter of intergenerational social justice. In his church, it is a sin for white women to rebel against the hand of the black man.”
They arrived at the villa. Remembering N’Gono’s anger, Evelyn was careful to remove her top before entering.



Chapter 11

Evelyn and Julie were met at the servant’s door to the villa by the old black butler, Jayant. He led them to a maintenance closet and gave each of them a bucket of water and a rag.
“Scrub the south veranda until you are summoned, white women,” he told them.
Julie hurried out, but Jayant took hold of Evelyn’s arm and held her back. He gazed at her for a moment, staring at her naked chest and grinning broadly. “Not so unapproachable now, are you white slut? Not so concerned about showing these white tits, now that your white man is rotting in prison. You need a man, and the African man rules, now!”
Evelyn held her breath, but didn’t dare pull away. He leaned close, and his worn, grizzled face and bloodshot eyes repulsed her.
“You white bitch. I saw how you spurned me at the party. You didn’t even want me to look at you. But I can do more than look now.”
“I… I didn’t mean to offend you…” said Evelyn. There was something about the man, some look in his eye that terrified her.
“White woman. I served your kind for 50 years. Now you will serve me.” He reached up to trace the surface of her right areola. Evelyn watched as his very black fingers probed her pristine white mound.
“A fine white lady,” he chuckled under his breath. He brought his mouth to her breast and sucked the nipple into it, biting just hard enough to make it swell.
“Such elegant nubs, so delicate a shade of pink,” he hissed. “Like your friend Julie’s were once. I enjoyed them also. When you’re suckling N’Gono’s Dinka spawn they’ll turn dark red and bloat like a sow’s teat. The proud white lady.”
He sneered with mocking contempt. “I’ll fuck you, woman. I’ve fucked every white woman here and I’ll fuck you too when the time comes. And I’ll see those teats you were trying to hide whenever you come to the villa.”
Evelyn stood with her back to the wall, cringing at his hateful words. But a moment later he released her arm. He slapped her breasts and laughed before walking away.
Evelyn ran after Julie. She was already working and Evelyn joined her. They toiled on their knees, scrubbing the wooden deck while their breasts danced on their naked chests. Evelyn was very self-conscious and kept looking about to make sure no one could see. Her breasts jiggled and bounced whenever she moved or walked, but without the restraint of a bra or top there was nothing she could do to stop it.
They had only scrubbed about a quarter of the veranda by 10AM when Jayant told the women to get up and follow him.
He led them to a small room in the villa. There was a padded leather table near the center of the room, and he told Evelyn to remove her wrap and sit on the edge of it.
Evelyn was very reluctant to remove her wrap in front of the menacing Jayant, but he merely sneered at her.
“I have other duties. Prepare her,” he said to Julie. Then he left.
Evelyn saw Julie reach above the table and lower a strange bar that was suspended from the ceiling. The bar had several cuffs and chains attached to it, and Julie began fastening them around her friend’s wrists.
“What are you doing!” asked Evelyn in alarm.
“Evelyn, it’s all right. You need to be restrained for this.”
“But… No!” shouted Evelyn. One of her hands was already secured, but she steadfastly refused to allow Julie to bind her other wrist.
“Evelyn, we all had to go through this. It’s part of the doctor’s procedure…”
“No, please Julie. What’s happening? I thought you were my friend.”
“Evelyn, I am your friend. Now if you don’t let me prepare you I’m going to have to call Jayant to hold you down.”
“Please… no, please.”
“Then let me have your hand.”
Very reluctantly, Evelyn extended her free arm to Julie, who promptly encircled it with the cuff and locked it on the bar. She tried to calm the trembling woman with soothing words. “It’s going to be all right, Evelyn. This part is very painful, but it will be over soon, I promise you.”
“What are they going to do to me,” whimpered Evelyn. “Please tell me, Julie.”
“The doctor will be here in a few moments, Evelyn. Lie down on your back. Just relax.”
Evelyn complied. She looked up and could see that Julie was bringing down another apparatus. This one was very similar to the stirrups used by gynecologists, except there was another bar between the two ankle cuffs. Evelyn allowed Julie to bind her ankles. When her feet were at last restrained the bar was opened telescopically. Her legs were spread and she was quite unable to close them. Julie then ran a strap across Evelyn’s body, just below the ribs, and cinched it off to the table. Now Evelyn was unable to move.
Evelyn’s panic returned when the door opened and Dr. Kamwego entered followed by a strange black woman, who looked very old and decrepit.
“Hello Evelyn,” said the doctor, pleasantly. “I see that Julie has done the preliminaries and that you’re ready to begin.”
“Don’t hurt me,” Evelyn pleaded.
The doctor simply smiled and gestured to the old woman. “This woman is Al-wani, a traditional shamaness of the Dinka, N’Gono’s tribe. She is going to perform certain traditional rites on you. Your body is going to be modified. It will make you more attractive to N'Gono, and at the same time, more receptive and tractable toward him.”
Evelyn looked at the woman. She was obviously some kind of witchdoctor. She wore a flowing, colorful robe that was encrusted with hundreds of beads and feathers and was adorned with many other items of primitive jewelry. Hanging about her neck were several tiny pouches on leather strips; talismans and fetishes of her art. Her face was marked with the tattoos and raised ritual scaring, denoting her high office, and her hair was braided and set with gold ornate clips. She moved with vigor and alacrity that belied her age, or else she was not as old as she appeared.
The odd little woman began to examine Evelyn intently, as if inspecting a piece of livestock before buying. She looked into Evelyn’s eyes, and checked her teeth and hair. She hefted her firm, creamy breasts with her callused hands. She nodded with approval after weighing Evelyn’s mammary, then pinched and milked the nipples to see the response. Both of Evelyn’s pink nubbins swelled, and the white girl’s face flushed bright crimson. Al-wani laughed with delight at Evelyn’s stiff nubs, and made some comment in her native language.
The shamaness also studied Evelyn’s navel carefully, kneading her abdomen, poking and prodding at her belly. She mumbled something and pressed her finger into the white girl’s solar plexus. Evelyn frowned and tried to shift under the strap but the band held her fast.
Evelyn hated the de-humanizing feeling as she endured the invading and probing of the woman’s bony fingers. She did not understand what was happening and just wanted the humiliating treatment with the creepy woman to be over, but it did not appear to be ending soon.
The witchdoctor moved down to observe Evelyn’s ankles and feet, looking them over carefully, checking her toes and the bottom of her foot in minute detail.
Then the woman moved back up and began to inspect her pubic area. Evelyn drew in a sharp breath. She felt the steely fingers pinch and explore her vulva, pulling at the pink folds. Al-wani poked at the white girl’s anus, stopping to swab the little puckered hole.
Evelyn could not keep from twisting. “Please… please don’t…”
“Do not move,” hissed Dr. Kamwego.
The woman’s fingertip went higher, raking though the cleft between her neither lips. Then it found the top of the crease, and the little pleasure bud that lay there. Insistent fingers began to pinch the little nub, and Evelyn stiffened.
“No… please don’t touch me there,” sniffled Evelyn.
The old shamaness ignored her. Taking one of her pouches she dipped her black hand in and coated it with a clear, oily substance. She brought her hand back to Evelyn’s vagina and slowly inserted two of her fingers.
Evelyn held her breath. The viscous grease on the woman’s hand burned slightly, and seemed to cause her birth canal to dilate and her labia to flower open. She inserted a third finger, and finally a fourth. The white woman lay there; utterly mortified as the witchdoctor moved her hand in and out slowly, feeling and probing inside her vaginal walls.
After half a minute or so, Evelyn could stand it no longer. “Nooo,” she gushed, thrashing within the confines of her bonds and crying with shame.
Al-wani withdrew her hand, smiling broadly. “This woman good choice,” she announced. “She small but healthy, wide hips and good limbs. She have no trouble with birth.”
“She seems so petite and delicate. And he’s so big. I don’t want my project miscarried- literally.” observed Dr. Kamwego.
“Still much room here for Dinka child,” said the old woman, pointing at Evelyn’s belly. “And she drop much milk, I think. See, she have small teats, because never carry child, but puffy suck flesh around teats. When she planted with good Dinka seed her bosom grow, like her belly. Her milk flow like Nile after she drop.”
“Excellent,” said the doctor.
Evelyn closed her eyes tight, hoping it was all over and they would release her. But no one was moving to do that.
For several minutes, Evelyn could hear the doctor and the shamaness talking in an African dialect, seeming to debate something. But she could understand none of it. Then the older black woman stepped in front of her and dangled a shinny object over her face. Evelyn saw immediately they were her wedding rings, hanging from a chain. They had been taken from her when she was incarcerated at the prison.
“This from you white man?” asked the old woman, looking at them with distaste. “These symbol of you marriage?”
“Ye… yes…” gasped Evelyn. “Please give them back to me.”
“Al-wani take them. I break spells and give them to Dinka metalworkers. You take N’Gono’s mark now. You belong to him.”
Julie then brought three small wooden bowls to the padded table and set them just below Evelyn’s buttocks. The bound white wife watched with trepidation as the old woman took several sharp metal tools from one of her little bags and handed them to the doctor. He put them in a steel bowl and poured some liquid into it, which smelled like alcohol.
The witchdoctor woman took what looked like a large pair of tweezers from the bowl, and positioned herself near the juncture of Evelyn’s thighs.
“Now just relax, Evelyn,” said Julie, soothingly. “This will be over soon.”
“What…? What is she…? Ouch, ouww, Aahhh, OWWWWWWW!”
“Evelyn couldn’t believe what was happening. The ugly little shamaness was plucking out her pubic hair a few strands at a time. And the pain was excruciating!”