Sunday, September 30, 2007

Bound For Africa Pqart 4 by Gordon Kerr

“Stop… Owwww, ooooohh, please, ouchhh! Why are you going this!”
“To make you more attractive to N’Gono of course,” said Julie. “None of the women of his tribe have pubic hair. This treatment is given to them before they are married. Body hair on a woman is considered uncouth.”
“OOUHH! AAAAHHH…! AAAAAGHH…!”
“Stop screaming, white woman,” snapped Dr. Kamwego.
“I can’t help it. It hurts, it hurts!” whined Evelyn, pulling at her bonds once more.”
“Ohhh, ahhh… AAAAAAIIIEEEEEHHHHHHHHH!”
Kamwego slashed her across the breasts with a short riding whip. “I told you to stop screaming!” he shouted. “You white women are so weak. I’ll give you something to scream about!”
The old woman continued to pluck for at least half an hour, while Evelyn tied to stifle her cries. Soon the witchdoctor had succeeded in removing all of Evelyn’s pubic hair, and the small amount of hair in her armpits. Then she took a flask of thick, strong smelling liquid from her pouch, and mixed it in one of the bowls. Spreading it over her hands she worked it into the area of Evelyn’s skin that she had depilated. It burned horribly at first and Evelyn’s resurgent screams filled the room, despite repeated applications of the doctor’s crop. The sting however, gradually faded.
“This ointment will ensure that none of the hair grows back,” said Julie.
Evelyn looked down at the juncture between her legs. The slight swell of her pudenda was now very evident, as well as the delicate pink color. But she noticed an even more pronounced gaping of her hole, and protruding of her inner labia. The insertion of N’Gono’s very large male organ had already stretched and changed her vagina somewhat inside and out. The old shamaness laughed and began chattering with glee in her own language.
The doctor laughed as well. “She says you look like a civilized woman now. She says white woman have hair like apes!”
The old woman continued chattering excitedly, smiling and gesturing at Evelyn.
“She says now you will really feel N’Gono’s pubic hair tickle your lips and clit while he fucks you,” said the doctor. “She says it will make you rut like a monkey.”
Evelyn flushed and pouted with disgust. But the old woman reached over and began caressing her vulva, lightly stroking the now hairless skin surrounding it. Evelyn bucked her hips and gasped with surprise. It was more sensitive!
“Please… it… don’t do that…” cried Evelyn. The old woman continued to yammer in broken English and Dinka, while lightly stroking Evelyn’s clitoris.
“Aahhh, ahhhh, ahhhh, ahhhha, please, hhhh, hhhh, hhhhhhhh,” Evelyn’s hips humped, as if responding to an invisible man on top of her. Al-wani knew exactly how to touch her.
The doctor was very amused and conversed back and forth with the old woman for a minute or two. All the while, Evelyn endured the expert manipulation of her vaginal lips, anal ring and love bud. She continued to squirm and buck, and emit little involuntary huffs of pleasure. Finally, the woman entered her with her long middle finger. She massaged an ultra sensitive spot inside Evelyn’s vagina, behind her clitoris, while working the little nub from the front with her other hand.
Evelyn’s sex instantly exploded into a powerful orgasm. Her eyes rolled back and her hips rocked violently. “AAAHHH, AAAAAAHHHH, AAAHHH, UUHHHHHHH, AAAAAHHHHHHH, pleeeaaasssee.” For an instant, Evelyn lost consciousness. She came to with the sound of the doctor’s laugher.
The native woman was preparing to do something else between Evelyn’s legs, but the white woman suddenly noticed that Julie was no longer in the room. She groaned and her anxiety mounted again. She had unconsciously been relying on her friend for strength and comfort.
Evelyn became aware of a pungent odor about her, and she thought it must be coming from the little leather fetish pouch that the woman was holding near Evelyn’s sex. A thick, oily goo poured reluctantly from the pouch, onto the white woman’s labia, falling in a glop over her clitoral hood. Bony, deft fingers worked the substance into the folds, bathing her pink pleasure nub in the warm, slightly stinging liquid.
After a few minutes, Evelyn felt a deadening of nerves in her pubic area. She watched in silent horror as the woman took a silver knife, and began cut away a small incision in the skin of her clitoral hood, cleaving it apart. It was quite painless because of the ointment, but Evelyn feared she was being disfigured and tied to squirm within her bonds. The old woman looked up angrily, and Kamwego snapped, “don’t move. Or you’ll injure yourself.”
Evelyn held her breath and clenched her fingers and toes. There was a minute amount of bleeding, but it was stanched by the ointment.
The shamaness took a tiny silver ring and pierced the two edges of Evelyn’s now separated clit hood. She inspected her work and nodded with satisfaction. Then she and the doctor released Evelyn from her restraints and ordered her down on all fours, resting her abdomen over a stool on the floor. Al-wani sat behind her on another stool. Evelyn looked back to see her opening another leather bag, which held many implements.
Evelyn hung her head and wondered when the nightmare was going to end. She felt a sting on her lower back over her spine, and something snagging her skin- suddenly she realized that she was being tattooed.
Evelyn’s mind once again exploded with panic. For some reason the thought of being marked like Julie and the other white women filled her with an overwhelming sense of revulsion. She bolted to her feet and ran, making it all the way to the door before it opened and she collided with Jayant.
He seized her by the throat, holding her in place in the steely grasp of his old, black hands.
The doctor spoke in his pseudo calm voice. “You’re going to be tattooed, bitch. You’re going to carry the marks of the Dinka and your master, N’Gono. I am giving you to him, to welcome him to the church.”
“No… I’m an American woman. I love my husband.”
“Bend over the stool and hold still!” he snarled.
“Please,” begged Evelyn. But the hesitation merely earned her a nasty slap on the face.
“Do as your told, slut. Down on the stool!”
“No,” cried Evelyn hysterically. “This is horrible and violating… I won’t… I won’t bear the marks of a pagan man! A man who’s not my husband!”
The doctor simply smiled, and calmly reached up to grasp a handful of Evelyn’s hair. “I’ll call the warden and tell him you’re not cooperating. You’ll be shipped out to the rape camp within an hour. Then there’ll be hundreds of men who’ll play with your cunt and asshole. In a week you’ll have prison tattoos covering your body. They’ll brand you with irons. Each man who fucks you will apply his mark to you. It is the tradition here among criminals!”
Evelyn broke down sobbing. She was defeated and she knew it. Her mind numbed with defeat, she went to her knees, and crawled to the stool.
Al-wani began to work again, and this time Evelyn did not resist. For three hours she felt the shamaness making the tiny cuts with a tool and working the ink under her skin. She couldn’t see it, but it felt as though they were applying an image similar to Julie’s, across her lower back from hip to hip.
When at last the old woman was done, Evelyn felt limp and drained. She had undergone a violation similar to rape. In some ways it was even more profound. The act of rape was transitory. The marks on her back were permanent.
They ordered her up, seated on the edge of the table again. Now the Al-wani proceeded to apply a smaller tattoo to her belly, on the flat plane just above her sex. The old woman began chanting while sprinkling more of her mysterious ointments and powders onto Evelyn, and rubbing them into her flesh in the affected areas. Finally the shamaness stood up.
“Now you fit for N’Gono,” she smiled, pleased with her handiwork. “Powerful spells on you flesh now. You Dinka property.”
The old witchdoctor spoke to Kamwego before she left. Evelyn slumped on the table, weeping and desolate.
Dr. Kamwego sat beside her after the old woman had left. He spoke to her gently, almost compassionately.
“You will adapt,” he said. “A woman’s heart turns quickly to a strong man. The man who has captured her. Soon your white husband will fall out of your desires, your hopes, and finally your memory. You belong to N’Gono, now.”
Evelyn did not react to him.
“Al-wani gave you a great complement,” said the doctor. “She said you have a mother’s body and a whore’s heart. And you are much to old not to have children. I told her your white husband was a weakling who couldn’t get you pregnant and that N’Gono has taken you into his hut now. She says she expects to see you many more times. She is a midwife also.”



Chapter 12

Julie, Deanna, and Vicky accompanied a very tired Evelyn back to her house. They doted on her all the way, solicitous of her feelings and offering advice based on their own experience of what she had been through.
“Make sure you don’t smudge or damage the tattoos,” said Deanna.
“Oh, I hate them, they’re disgusting. ” said Evelyn. “Maybe if I soak them with hot water they’ll fade!”
“No,” said Deanna. “I tried that, Evelyn. Dr. Kamwego whipped me mercilessly when he found out! And he’ll just bring you right back. “He’ll have that witch woman Al-wani apply them all over again.”
“They what am I going to do!” cried Evelyn. “How can I face Rick?”
“You’re not going to do anything, Evelyn,” said Julie. “The tattoos will stay.”
“You’ll get used to them very soon,” said Deanna. “You’ll be proud to carry N’Gono’s mark.”
“The designs mean something?” asked Evelyn.
“The tattoos on your back are N’Gono’s tribal and clan markings,” said Julie. “The tattoo on your belly is his personal mark. Everyone who fucks you from now on will see it and know you belong to him.”
That statement brought on new misery for Evelyn. “What will Rick think when the American Embassy gets him released. It’ll be right on my belly when we… if we… if he sees me in our bedroom.”
When they reached Evelyn’s house, the other three women entered without waiting for an invitation from their host. All Evelyn wanted was a quiet evening alone to recover, but the girls insisted there were many more things to do.
They took Evelyn into the bathroom and washed her hair thoroughly. Then they set her down, and began to meticulously plait her long, silky brown tresses, interweaving dozens of beads into the braids. As they worked, Evelyn began to feel much better. Soon she was talking and laughing with her three companions as they shared stories and jokes.
It took them a couple of hours, but when they were finished they brought Julie a mirror. She was astonished at the transformation. The radical change in hairstyle had altered her appearance drastically. It was much more “African” now, like that of the other girls.
The women talked until almost dark, then anxious to get home to their men, all three of Evelyn’s guests took their leave.
When they were gone, Evelyn went into the bathroom, to look at herself in the full-length mirror. As she dropped her kangas, she couldn’t believe what she saw! The woman before her seemed so alien, almost pagan! Besides her hair and face, she could now clearly see the changes to her body. The loss of her thick pubic bush made her sex lips much more prominent. The tattoo above her slit almost glowed with iniquitous maculation. It was about three or four inches around, and featured small, colorful animal figurines done in African motif. At its center was the unmistakable shape of a black phallus, pointing directly down to her womanhood.
She turned, and saw some of her back in the mirror. Evelyn gasped. The African tribal tattoo spanned her back with a bold, black and white geometric design. Like Julie’s it ran from hip to hip and seemed shaped like a flower with the stem leading to her crack. The skin under both tattoos was swollen and very sore. She blushed with the thought of what people would say when she returned to Iowa. She would have to be very careful what she wore if she went out in warm weather. Still, though horrifying, it gave her an odd sort of tingle in her loins to see her own body changed and marked by the hands of black natives.

Over the next three days, Julie and Evelyn finished scrubbing the veranda. They moved on to other jobs, including weeding, feeding the guard dogs, and washing the doctor’s many automobiles. All of the chores were menial, but Evelyn found that the work was never overwhelming. She had grown up in a conservative, rural part of America and had worked hard as a child and teenager, but the Africans seemed more laid back about work. Even in their subservient roles, the white women were not pushed too hard, as long as they got a reasonable amount done.
They occasionally saw Vicky and Deanna, and met a few other white girls. They were always dressed the same, in the traditional African garb; barefoot, wearing only the kanga about their waists and the smaller kanga on their breasts if they were outside. In the villa proper, they were invariably bare-breasted. The majority were either pregnant, or nursing black babies, or both. Some even had a toddler or two in tow.
Evelyn began to fall into the routine. She had not been told when N’Gono would return, and she was beginning to become hopeful that her family, or the U.S. Embassy would be able to resolve the situation, and get she and her husband out of the country before she was sexually assaulted again. As far as the tattoos and other modifications of her body, she would just have to hope Rick would understand. Her skin was healing and the tattoos were set now, but perhaps they could be removed or masked once she got home to Iowa. She knew her body hair would never grow back, but she would have to live with that- a perpetual reminder of Rick’s foolish venture in Africa.
The next day was Saturday, which was, Julie informed Evelyn, a day off. On Saturdays, the church members met on the lakeshore for fun and relaxation on the beach.
Evelyn was excited. She had recovered somewhat from the shocking events earlier in the week, and had decided that perhaps things were not quite as bleak as they seemed. She was anxious to meet more people, especially the other white women who she might relate to.
Julie collected Evelyn in the morning, and they made their way down to the beach. Evelyn was thankful it was a little overcast, and not an extremely hot day. She had been told to wear her bikini top and a thong under her kanga, and had been worried about getting too much sun.
When they arrived at the shoreline, Evelyn could see there were perhaps a hundred or more people there. The white women numbered thirty or thirty-five. The remainder were black, mostly men, but with several black woman mixed in. There were no white males. It was a very casual gathering. There were a few fires and lots of beach chairs and towels lying about on the sand. Evelyn stuck close to Julie. Ayang was sitting in one of the chairs, idly conversing with two other black men. Julie went and sat down cross-legged on the sand in front of his chair. She motioned for Evelyn to sit on the ground beside her, in front of one of the black men. Reluctantly, Evelyn complied.
Only after she had set down did she notice that the man behind her was the one whom she had rebuffed days before on the road. Evelyn felt a chill of fear, wondering if he might still be angry, but fortunately, he was ignoring her. She wondered if he remembered the incident.
Evelyn studied the beach-goers. The black women were all dressed in loose, modern clothing, or fairly conservative one-piece bathing suits. They seemed aloof, almost snobbish toward the whites. The white women by contrast, wore the traditional kangas, or very minimal thong-type swimwear. Some of the white women had even removed their tops! All were like Julie, without a hint of tan lines across their breasts.
Evelyn saw other differences too. The black women sat in chairs. The white women all sat on the sand, or in the black men’s laps. The white women seemed much more flirtatious than the black women, who were by comparison demure, independent and sophisticated.
Evelyn tried to relax and enjoy the sunshine. The men seated behind her were speaking in an African dialect and seemed unconcerned about the girls sitting at their feet. Evelyn had just closed her eyes with the warmth of the African sun on her face when Julie nudged her with an elbow.
Evelyn turned to see that her friend had removed the kanga top, and her man Ayang was idly caressing her naked back with his black hand.
“Evelyn, take off your top,” she whispered.
Evelyn frowned. With great reluctance, she reached up and removed her small kanga. The bikini top was so skimpy that she blushed, and had to fight the urge to cover her chest with her hands. She got up to walk around. There was a cooler close by, filled mostly with beer and ice, but with a few soft drinks as well. Evelyn took one and stood, watching the party.
Soon things were developing in a blatantly sexual direction. Here and there were couples, carousing between drinks, seemingly oblivious to everything but each other. Black hands fondling tan white breasts, and sneaking under bikini bottoms; quiescent feminine giggles and gasps.
The men were engaging both black and white women. But the black women were more modest. That activity seemed to invariably retire to the little beach houses for privacy, while most of the sexual antics involving the white women were unfolding in the bold sunlight, right out on the sand! Only a few feet away a black man and a white woman were laying on a towel, both naked and in the midst of rather advanced foreplay.
Evelyn looked with disgusted shock at the little orgies that were developing on the beach. Julie was still seated in front of Ayang’s chair. His big hand was now kneading her bare breast as he chatted with the other black men. Julie suddenly looked back at Evelyn with concern, as if to warn her that her that antisocial behavior was rebellious and “sinful,” It was unacceptable, and if she persisted there would be dire consequences. For the moment, however, the black men seemed to be ignoring her.
Suddenly Evelyn felt her head wrenched back and she was looking into the angry scowl of Dr. Kamwego himself. His voice was tight and threatening. “Go back over there and sit in front of brother Nabela as Julie is doing. Do as he tells you. I’m not going warn you again.” Then the doctor let go of her hair.
Defeated, Evelyn emitted a little sniffle, then padded back across the sand and sat next Julie again, in front of Nabela’s chair.
Julie smiled at her reassuringly. The girl seemed almost totally at ease, as if she and Evelyn were just two young women alone on a beautiful beach. Her winsome smile almost made it seem to Evelyn that all this was normal. But then Evelyn felt the big, black hand stroking her slender neck!
“Take off your bikini top now,” whispered Julie again.
Evelyn shook her head again, staring straight out to the water with a determined look. It was bad enough to have to be here, watching all this happen. There was no way she was going to remove her top, this place was simply too public.
She breathed a small sigh of relief when Ayang and Nabela got up and walked over to the water’s edge. A few feet from them a fat, African man in his mid fifties had removed the panties of a petite, red-haired young white girl, who looked to be in her late teens. He mounted the unresisting female and immediately began to energetically pound her into the sand, rutting his big manhood into and gripping her form roughly by the shoulders. The girl grunted with his huge intrusion into her belly, but did not resist. In fact she curled her soft legs around his back and made a strained effort to smile up at the man.
Ayang and Nabela stood chatting and smiling next to them, seemingly oblivious to the lewd spectacle transpiring at their feet. Evelyn shook her head with disgust. Never had she dreamed such depravity could exist, especially within a church gathering. She closed her eyes tight, trying to shut out the shocking and threatening world around her.
“Take off your top, Evelyn!” hissed Julie, urgently.
“No,” whispered Evelyn through clenched teeth.
“You have to,” replied Julie. “All of the other white women are bare breasted. Brother Nabela expects it and the doctor will punish your racist pride if you keep it on.”
“It’s not racist pride,” spat Evelyn, trying to keep her voice to a whisper. “It’s a matter of modesty!”
“Not in Africa,” said Julie.
“But the black women aren’t topless,” whined Evelyn.
“Dr. Kamwego says we whites have to accept African ways and the authority of his church and his elders if we are to be forgiven for our race’s past oppressions. Going bare breasted at church functions is one way of demonstrating that. Submitting to any African man’s advances is another.”
Evelyn starred slack jawed at her young friend. “You mean… make… have… have sex with them? Right here? I… I couldn’t… I couldn’t do that! Besides, it’s so immoral!”
Julie shook her head. “It’s not sinful if the doctor tells us to do it. It’s a sin to disobey him. Take off your top!”
Once again Evelyn shook her head and set her jaw, trying to concentrate on the lake and the surf. She was a married, Christian woman. Submitting to one black man behind closed doors, until she could escape the country, was one thing. This was something else. She did not have to participate in such illicit activities.
So determined was she to remain aloof and ignore her surroundings, she did not hear the doctor’s quiet footsteps behind her. Suddenly she felt a slight tug on her top. She turned to see him sitting on the chair behind her. Then she felt a cold, sharp object at her back. The strap parted and the cups of her bikini top fell away from her chest! She gasped with shock and outrage as the cool lake air played lightly over her now exposed nipples and her face flushed with an even deeper color. She instinctively tried to look down and find the sheer cloth, but he seized her neck in an iron grip. He would not allow her to move her head and she whimpered with the familiar feeling of helplessness at his hands. Knowing she was now completely bare above the waist, she bought up her arms, again with purely modest instinct.
The doctor pushed her hands violently away then slapped her face. “Leave your arms down,” he growled, reaching down and snatching up the remnants of her top.
Still utterly shocked, Evelyn gasped for words. “Please… I… I… can’t… ouch… oh, I can’t… please… ahhhggghh…” she rasped, as he twisted her hair.
“Quiet,” he snapped. Then he leaned down to whisper beside her reddened face. “Keep your hands and arms down and push your chest out, or I’ll have the fattest, ugliest brother rape you right here on the sand! Is that clear?”
Now cowed, Evelyn sniffled with defeat. “Ye… yes… please don’t hurt me!”
He released his hold on her and walked off, satisfied for the moment. Evelyn sobbed quietly and hung her head with shame for a few minutes, but she did not try to hide her breasts.
“I told you to take them off,” said Julie, with mixed sympathy and vindication. “Now you will go all the way back to the house topless. Everyone’s going to see your tits.”
“No…” whimpered Evelyn.
“Oh yes! Every guest, brother and elder is going to get an eyeful, because you were disobedient.”
“Please… I didn’t know… I can’t go back like this.”
“Evelyn, that’s the least of your problems. Nabela is still annoyed at your little stunt on the path a few days ago. I heard them talking and they’re going to teach you a lesson.”
“But… I didn’t mean to…”
“Just grit your teeth and bear it, Evelyn, you’ll survive. But don’t give brother Nabela anymore trouble or he’ll probably whip you raw, right here on the sand in front of everyone. I’ve seen him do it to other girls, so you better calm yourself down and do what it takes to please him.”
A few moments latter, Nabela and Ayang returned to their beach chairs behind the two white wives.
Evelyn screwed her eyes shut, hoping against hope that whatever they had planned would somehow not occur. Fear of the two big, African males and what they might do kept her from moving. She tensed with a small gasp when she felt the large, callused hand again, but this time it was not caressing. It had taken a cruel grip on her upper arm.
Nabela rose, pulling Evelyn up with him and dragging her over to one of two open beach towels.
“Get that kanga off,” he barked. “And the thong! On your knees… On all fours.”
When Evelyn began to protest weakly he punched her savagely in the belly. She doubled over onto the cloth, temporarily unable to breathe and frozen with fear as he pulled the kanga from her waist and ripped the thong from her body.
“Spread your legs!” he snarled.
“All right… ugghh…” cried Evelyn, still trying to catch her breath. But he did not wait for her volition. He kicked her thighs apart with his sandal-clad foot and slapped her rear cheek with a loud crack.
“White bitch. You’ll never push me away again!” he said. He knelt behind her and brought his hand to her puckered anus. “N’Gono doesn’t use this hole. But I do!”
An intense spasm of fear and revulsion ripped through Evelyn’s very soul. This man intended to perform that unnatural, unspeakable act that she had only heard about in the vilest of contexts. He was going to sodomize her!
“Oh god no! Please no! I’m sorry for pushing you away!”
He slapped her hard again on the rump. “Shut up, bitch!”
“Please, sir,”
Evelyn was suddenly aware of Julie kneeling beside her before the angry black man. “Please sir, use this. It will make it easier for you to fuck her asshole, sir. Please let me give it to her.”
Nabela grunted his assent.
Julie moved over to Evelyn and presented her with a tube of sexual lubricant.
Evelyn’s eyes were wide and she shook with hysteria. “He wants to… to… Sodomize… NOOOO!” she shrieked.
Julie slapped her face, trying to calm her frenzied panic. “Evelyn, listen. Listen to me. He’s going to fuck your ass! Now use this jelly so he doesn’t tear you. Squirt some up your anus and work it around. Then spread some on his cock. Hurry and lube yourself!”
“No… no… not there,” Evelyn kept sobbing and whimpering. But she was using the tube, squeezing the viscous gel into her rectal cavity and pushing it in with a finger. She kept looking at Julie desperately, begging with her trembling voice. “Please… not there… he can’t do it there!”
“Shhhhh,” said Julie, her voice as soothing as possible. “He’s going to fuck you there, Evelyn. Now turn around and coat the stuff on his cock.”
Evelyn, in an almost catatonic state, obeyed. She grasped his big, black organ timidly and squirted the lubricant onto it. It wasn’t as big as N’Gono’s, but it was still much larger than Rick’s.
“Now get back down there,” said Nabela. “Reach back and pull your cheeks apart.”
Evelyn complied, wishing fervently that the earth would open and swallow her up.
“Try to relax your anal muscles and let it happen,” said Julie.
Then Evelyn felt the head of his penis. He pushed, and the slick jelly allowed him to enter her smoothly, though her anal ring resisted and there was some pain.
“Aahhh, ahhhh, ahhh, ooohhhh,” panted Evelyn pathetically. Her face was buried in the towel and her hands were clawing at it. She felt him push again and his cock went deep.
“OOOHHHHH! Please, it hurts!”
He paused for a moment, allowing her muscles to adjust. Then he began a slow pumping motion and Evelyn gritted her teeth. The pain of his initial invasion had faded, but it still felt gross and unnatural. She lifted her face and looked around, once more aware that she was in a very public place. People were casually watching, smiling, or just walking past. None of them acted as though the public anal rape of a white woman by an African man was anything out of the ordinary.
The minutes seemed to have slipped by and Evelyn realized he was thrusting fast, about to climax. Before he did so he reached around and touched the bud of her clit. Instantly a weird, cloying heat suffused her loins, like an orgasm burning slowly instead of exploding. She felt him groan and stiffen, and his balls were twitching as they hung against her vulva.
“Ahhgg, yes… take it, woman.”
She could feel his semen as it pulsed into her vitals. The masking pleasure dissipated quickly for Evelyn after he pulled out and she lay face down and unmoving while her anal ring tried to recover.
Nabela was already laughing and joking with another black man, and sat back down as though nothing had happened. But for Evelyn, it was beyond rape, beyond humiliation. She was sure her mind and body would never be the same. She felt dead inside, filthy, and utterly defiled.
A few feet away she heard a female voice permeated with rapturous bliss. She turned her head to see Julie on her back, being ferociously fucked by Ayang and thrusting her loins up to meet his with equal vigor. As Evelyn watched, their pleasure crested. Ayang shouted in triumph and pinned her to the sand, pumping, filling, possessing his white woman, as Julie screamed with joy into his black, muscular chest.
Evelyn just closed her eyes and sobbed, engulfed in a swirling vortex of the darkest shame she had ever known.



Chapter 13

Evelyn’s breasts bounced with salacious freedom on her denuded chest as she walked home from the beach. Oddly enough it hardly bothered her. She had been so traumatized by the very public anal rape she had undergone that her mind was in a kind of fog. Yet there was one thing she found to be the most degrading factor of all. She had actually had an orgasm from it. Her mind was assailed with the ugliest self-recriminations, and she felt literally dirty, fouled with the shame of her own depravity. All Evelyn wanted to do was go home and take a bath.
The next day was Sunday, and Julie arrived as usual to walk with her to church, which they were required to attend.
The church service was like none other that Evelyn had ever attended. She and all the other white women were seated on the floor in an open area at the rear of the main sanctuary. All of them were bare breasted and wore only the waist kanga, dressed in the traditional manner of African women. Their clothing however, was clean and colorful, and obviously meant for exclusive Sunday use.
Many of the white women held half-black infants, and some were breastfeeding openly. Evelyn watched as Julie fed her baby. Her breasts were heavy, and the brown baby sucked greedily at her darkened and enlarged, extended nipple.
The black congregation sat in padded pews. The men wore tailored suits, the women were dressed in demure finery, very conservative, as befitted church attendance in a European or American service. Their clothing was modern, but still with a distinctive African cut and look.
There were hymns, but they were sung in African dialects and Evelyn didn’t recognize the melodies. There was an odd sort of chanting, also not in English. Then it was the doctor who preached, mostly in an African language but also in some English. Evelyn noted that he said nothing about God, the bible, or the classic Christian doctrine she was familiar with. Instead, the sermon had strong racial/mystical/political overtones. Kamwego spoke of Africa, and her noble black sons and daughters. He told of her great history in ancient times, and of the evil and corrupt white man who had ruled and had tried to impose his culture as well at his will. The spirits of African ancestors were restless and calling for revenge on the whites and retribution for their sins.
Finally, he talked about what white men had done to African women; raping them, enslaving them, forcing them to westernize and accept white traditions. Even Evelyn was appalled.
At the end of the service, a beautiful blond white woman sang another African hymn in English. The song praised the doctor and his church. Evelyn was mesmerized with the girl’s lovely voice as she stood before the church dressed only in her waist wrap.
When the service was over, the black congregation rose. The white women went to their knees, and stayed there until the last black person had left. Then they stood, and Julie walked Evelyn home.

For the next three days, Nabela was waiting for Evelyn when she arrived home. He would take her around to the back of the house and rape her anally, sometimes as she bent over grasping her ankles, sometimes as she crouched on all fours on the dirt. She learned not to resist him in any way, and to loosen her sphincter muscles as he entered her.
Nabela was something of a sadist. He would slap her around before and after every anal union. The beatings were rather mild, leaving no bruises or permanent marks, but Evelyn was sure they would become much more serious if she made any attempt to thwart him. He would bait her, berating her as frigid one minute and as a wonton whore the next. But he made it clear he was enjoying the abuse of her body. “If N’Gono doesn’t want you, I will claim you, women!” he had rasped into her ear after cumming in her bowels.
To Evelyn’s chagrin and horrified wonder, she was gaining the lubricous orgasm every time, but the sessions were demeaning in the extreme. And she hated the cruel Nabela.
Then a day of deliverance. Julie had been told that N’Gono would be home that night, and shared this news with Evelyn. Even to Evelyn’s surprise, this prospect made her oddly nervous. With N’Gono in his own hut again, he would surely protect her from Nabela. In that instant, she went from hoping he would not return before the embassy got them out, to worrying that N’Gono would reject her.
Sure enough, Nabela was nowhere to be seen when she padded up to her house that night. N’Gono was not there either, so Evelyn busied herself preparing for his arrival. She tidied up the house, and tried to cook a vegetable and goat meat dish the way she knew he liked it.
She checked herself in the mirror. She and Julie had spent much of the day, washing each other’s hair, re-braiding it, and replacing the beads. The cornrows on her head were clean, neat, and very “African Negroid” looking. Her tattoos were almost fully healed, and had turned out well; crisp and un-smeared, and now very permanent.
Then she heard his car and went to the window. Evelyn’s adrenaline rushed when she saw it was N’Gono. The doctor had given him one of his older luxury sedans to drive to and from his village, to impress the native people and spread the influence of the church.
Evelyn quickly removed her top, and straightened out the kanga at her hips. She assumed the posture Julie had taught her. She had told Evelyn that N’Gono would expect it upon his return. Kneeling, spreading her legs widely but decent and placing her hands on her knees, Evelyn held her breath, hoping he would be pleased. When she heard his key in the door, she thrust her bare breasts out and lowered her eyes.
Then the door opened and he was there, and the room seemed to fill with his masculine presence.
Evelyn did not look directly into his face, but he seemed even taller now. His 6’5” frame was clad in a western style suit that seemed to actually augment his muscular physic. The suit spoke of power and worldly sophistication. That was the craving of every young African male and one of the lures by which the doctor would recruit the Dinka tribesman. Another lure was the gift of beautiful young, white women.
Evelyn felt his hand under her chin. He lifted her face, and she saw he was smiling. Her heart soared with the knowledge that he was pleased with her appearance and behavior.
Evelyn was convinced he would demand sex, and was fully prepared for it. There was still a twinge of guilt with regard to Rick and her vows, but she suppressed her conscience with the conviction that she had no choice. It made no difference, she told herself. She still loved Rick and thought nothing could change that. But these things she had to do to stay out of that horrible prison and gain the protection of a strong male. She was sure Rick would understand.
But in point of fact, N’Gono didn’t drag her straight to his bed. He sat down to enjoy a soccer match on television and aside from accepting his dinner and ordering her to fetch a beer from time to time, he totally ignored her. Evelyn went back into the kitchen to wash dishes.
Evelyn’s guilt began to creep back into her conflicted mind. Was it right that she should be anticipating sex with him this way? Yes, for the moment she had little choice in the matter, but how could going to bed with any man, save Rick, be anything but wrong? And she wondered further; why during the past few days did she yearn so for N’Gono’s return and not her husband’s. Why did N’Gono, instead of Rick, represent safety and security?
She was startled out of her thoughts when she suddenly felt his hand on her breasts, and recognized he was standing behind her.
“You very pretty now,” he whispered, biting her earlobe with his thick, black lips. “Look like African girl.”
“I… Yes,” she stammered. “The shaman woman from your clan… She, um, did things to me. To make me… look like African girls… The other women fixed my hair.”
“N’Gono like how white woman look,” he breathed, pinching her nipples. “You flesh bear the markings of N’Gono clan. Come, N’Gono take you.”
He clasped her hand and led her down the hall to the bedroom. There he gathered her in his arms. His lips found hers and he pulled her naked upper body to his, feeling her nipples like pebbles through his shirt. He released the kanga at her waist, letting the wrap fall to the floor, and his hands roamed freely over her naked, white flesh.
Presently, he stepped back, and Evelyn knew he was telling her to undress him. She tentatively removed his coat and unbuttoned his shirt, pulling it off. He sat on the bed and she knelt before him to remove his shoes and socks. She looked up at him, feeling an inner surge of lust mixed with guilt. He was so muscular and manly and confident, so unlike Rick. But Rick was her husband, and doubt and conscience gnawed at her.
They stood again. Evelyn closed her eyes and unbuckled his belt. Not able to bear his gaze she lowered her eyes as she slid his pants down his legs. He lifted his feet and she turned away from him, folding the expensive slacks on the back of a chair.
She sighed, and looked at his shorts, the last of his garments, bulging with his throbbing manhood. The tip of his erection was poking obscenely out the fly, and Evelyn’s hands trembled as she tugged the elastic bands and eased them down his hips.
Then it was there before her, 10 inches, glorious and uncovered. It throbbed with his heartbeat, black as the African night and stiff as a Dinka spear. Fear and anticipation charged through Evelyn’s loins and she felt the wetness seeping from her hairless sex.
A sob wracked her throat and she turned away from him. Before her was the bed and N’Gono stood silently at her side. The other times she’d had no choice, and little warning. This was different. She was alone with this man, quietly preparing to go to bed with him for the purpose of making love. No matter what her predicament, this was a deliberate, methodical violation of vows made to a husband she loved. Evelyn’s nuptial loyalty fought with her libido and female instincts, and her soul was the battleground.
She stiffened and balked. She couldn’t do this! Not in this way. Why did he have to be so gentle and seductive? Why couldn’t he take her as he had before? Just as the doctor and Nabela had, raping her quickly and brooking no resistance? This was the most savage and devastating attack of all. He was arousing her genuine passion for him. He was making her feel- love.
She felt his hand gliding lightly over the tattoo on her lower back and she closed her eyes as her libido bubbled and frothed. But thoughts of Rick, and her family, and precepts of her upbringing stiffened her shoulders, and her resolve. She pulled away from his hand and stood holding her breath, waiting for the inevitable punishment for her rebellion. A slap or the lash of a whip- which didn’t come.
“In my land, strong man take what he want from weak man,” said N’Gono, softly.
“I’m a woman, not an object,” whispered Evelyn.
“N’Gono speak of women.”
He turned her by the shoulders slowly, until she faced him, and Evelyn beheld the strength of will in his Negroid face. She backed up, terrified of him and wanting to bolt from the room. But he had her cornered now with her legs against the foot of the bed. He took hold of her arm, his grasp gentle yet as strong as steel.
“This house mine now,” he whispered in her ear. “N’Gono claim you also, woman.”
“Please, I know your customs are different here, but I’m American, and a married woman. I can’t… voluntarily make…”
“You in Africa now. In Dinka man’s house. You follow Dinka customs.”
With wide eyes she shook her head slowly, but he could sense her doubt and female need.
His mouth met hers and he pushed backwards gently, falling with her as she tumbled onto the bed. So naked, and so small, sprawled under him, so weak did she feel, held down by his entangling limbs- a living cage of black sinew. Evelyn was pushed onto her back, her suntanned, peaches and cream complexion crushed by his covering black from. Though her legs clamped tightly shut, he brought his knee between them, separating them with brute force. Yet she could not think of him as a brute.
He was slow but unstoppable, wedging his legs between hers and twisting, irresistibly spreading her creamy thighs and placing himself in position to mount her. Evelyn realized he could have simply whipped her or beat her until she complied. But he wanted to take her with pure physical force. Her will did not matter, and her straining was in vain. Her thighs relaxed.
N’Gono settled his hips from side to side, then he was home, his blunt African javelin at the threshold of her mons, once more battering the gateway to her virtue.
“No…” she gasped feebly, yet already her soft white hands were grasping the massive muscles of his back, and her knees were drawing up to cradle his hips. She felt her female lips parting and gazed down to see his huge manhood disappear slowly, pushing- into her lightly tanned belly.
“Ahhh, uuuuuuuunh, so big!” Evelyn panted as she saw her own smooth, white legs wrap around his back while he sank deeper. She looked into his African face, and her gray eyes pleaded for mercy, begging him to stop. Begging him to go on. And still the great black shaft bore downward, and her vaginal walls pushed outward, until his heavy scrotum nestled onto her anus. Then, with but a few more of her faltering shallow breaths, the last of her resistance vanished- and ecstasy replaced it.
It was true! What the shamaness had said was the truth. She could feel now with incredible vividness his skin and pubic hair as they contacted her denuded crotch. It was driving her wild! He was holding himself almost still; the act of possessing her frozen in time as she lay impaled and conquered.
“N’Gono, uunnnhhh,” she grunted. Her vagina was adjusting to his girth faster this time, having already been forced to take it twice before. Then he began moving very slowly, withdrawing and thrusting, in and out, bursting through space and time.
In their previous encounters she had been terrified and consumed with the shame of rape and adultery. Now she sensed that although N’Gono might not give her any choice in the matter of sleeping with him, he would not hurt her out of cruelty. He saw her as his woman and expected to use her body. But he was not like Nabela. He did not take pleasure from her pain. Furthermore, his strength of will and body meant she simply had no hope of resisting. That realization soothed her doubts, even as her lust and need surged.
Now, having sex with him for a third time, Evelyn could relax after a fashion and examine her own psyche. What was she feeling where they were joined between her legs? What was it like to have sex with another man besides Rick? What was it like to be with N’Gono? Truly his. It was wonderful!
Evelyn’s soft white limbs held him in a tightening embrace. Her body knew its needs. But though her flesh might respond, her heart still languished under a yoke of guilt. It brought to her mind the fear of Nabela, and the horrors of the prison. They were waiting for her, should she lose the favor of N’Gono. Only her flesh would buy his continued protection, and Rick would never know.
Rick was her husband, but no longer master of her bed. And for the first time, Evelyn wondered if he would ever be again. She knew in her heart that he could never give her the feelings she enjoyed with N’Gono. Rick was too civilized, too timid- and his cock was too small. But then N’Gono settled into his rhythm, and all thoughts of Rick and her marriage, good or ill, faded.
Her black lover was pumping now, and Evelyn was rutting back, grinding her pubic mound up to him. The bed began to creak with the cadence of their mating, and they writhed, fused as one corporeal being.
It felt so wonderful, so right. Being beneath N’Gono and infused by him slowly chased away the shadows of self-doubt and the specter of Nabela’s abuse. N’Gono was giving her his full length with every plunge, kissing her cervix with his glans. It went on forever, or so it seemed to the white woman, as he glided in and out with graceful ease.
“Tell N’Gono to fuck you. Beg Dinka man!” he breathed.
She sighed, but her brain was too glutted with pleasure to respond.
He smiled and bent to kiss her, and this broke the spell.
“Fuck me,” she gushed against his thick, dark lips. “Fuck me, N’Gono.”
“N’Gono put little Dinka in you belly,” he rasped, giving her exceptionally deep lunges. “Beg N’Gono for his child!”
“Yes,” she replied, too far-gone to care what she was saying. “Give me your baby! N’Gono… I love you!”
Evelyn was wholly his now, lying helpless and open beneath his swarthy body, even as his manhood pounded in and out, ranging its full prodigious length. It was so wild, so good. It seemed so natural to be with this powerful man, ardently making love. At last she felt him make his deepest thrust yet. He held himself still and his body became as a steel envelope. Evelyn heard him grunt loudly and shout something in Dinka. Then she felt the torrent of his fecund sperm, shooting into her womb with the force of a geyser.
“N’Gono!” she screamed, clinging to him as her orgasm detonated in her mind and body. “N’GONO, CUM IN ME! Fuck your white woman… FUCK ME!”
Evelyn thought the deluge would never end, and imagined that her uterus must be filling with his essence. Finally, she felt him relax, and his weight descended onto her. They were gasping for breath, still entwined and sweating in the warm African evening.
N’Gono took her twice more that night; once with Evelyn on top, squatting over his loins, and once more on her back. It was not until the early morning that she was able to sleep, profoundly content, and cuddled next to him in his bed.



Chapter 14

The following day, Evelyn was once again summoned to the villa. Al-wani was there, and made her lay on the padded table again. Because of the frightening previous session in that room, Evelyn was very nervous, but she was even more fearful of angering the old woman, and risking punishment at the hands of the doctor.
However, Julie reached for Evelyn’s hand and smiled, telling her that this time there was nothing to worry about. “It will feel so good, Evelyn, and it will help you adjust to your new life in Africa.”
The old witchdoctor showed Evelyn a small gold, pear shaped object the size of the tip of her little finger. It had a silver wire running through the center of the top lobe.
“This was you white man’s rings,” said the shamaness. “Dinka melt and change them. New spells on them now, make you hot for you new Dinka man. Hot for N’Gono.”
The old woman placed the tiny shape on the slit that had been cut into Evelyn’s clitoral hood. The wound had healed, but the little flap of skin had been permanently cleaved, and the silver rings were still in place. Al-wani’s dark fingers carefully joined the wires on the object to the silver rings piercing either side of Evelyn’s clitoral cover. The procedure was relatively painless, and when the white woman stood, she found the heavy gold shape dangled precisely over the most sensitive nub of her pleasure button.
“Ohhh!” she gasped her eyes wide. Her hips wiggled involuntarily at the surprise sensation. “Ahhh, aaahhh!” She gushed with each movement. The slightest motion caused the heavy little object to dance over her clit, stimulating her exactly as if a knowing finger were lightly rubbing it.
“Aaa, aaauuummmm… aaahhhHHH! Take it off, please! Ahhnnnhh… It’s so indecent.”
The shamaness laughed. “White woman feel like she should now, when Dinka men near. Think about fuck-fuck all day.”
Evelyn turned to Julie, but she too was chuckling with approval as well. “You’ll get used to it after awhile, Evelyn, but the stimulation remains constant in your sub-conscious. It keeps you on edge, like being in heat all the time.”
Evelyn groaned as she put her kanga back on. She was relieved that the woman had not done something else to hurt her, yet she felt as if one more violation had just been perpetrated on her person. She was being forced to experience sexual arousal, and the knowledge that she could do nothing about it caused shivers down her spine and a secret masochistic thrill in her brain. Whether magic or supernatural, or not, the old witch doctor woman had power over her sex, and it made Evelyn’s knees weak.
Al-wani was grinning from ear to ear when Evelyn left on unsteady legs, and the rest of the day the white woman tried to cope with the unwanted feelings. It was especially powerful when she walked. On the way back to her house Evelyn had three orgasms, and had to hang onto a bemused Julie for support. There was no remedy to the sensation. Even when she tired to hold the tiny ball still with her fingers, Evelyn only succeeded in pressing it even harder onto her joy knob. After a few days she did learn to control her feelings, just as they had said, but the stimulation was always there and made it hard to concentrate. She could no longer look at a man without her mind flashing with an image of his black cock pounding into her. And when N’Gono returned each night she was already primed, as if she had been masturbating and thinking about him all day.
The man from the U.S. Embassy did not call in the coming week. But Evelyn was allowed to meet with him the week after. He told her that nothing had been resolved with the Sudanese government, and that it might be several weeks or more before he could effect release for them. She would have to be patient. He had talked to her parents and Rick's. They were trying to work with the Sudanese Ministry of Justice, but had so far been stonewalled by the bureaucracy.

Evelyn continued to adjust into the routine as weeks, and then months passed, working alongside Julie and the other girls in the grand villa and around the church’s very extensive compound.
N’Gono had demanded sex from her every night after he had returned, but after a few days, Evelyn became accustomed to it. They were living as husband and wife, and each night in his arms, her guilt progressively diminished. Soon she was looking forward eagerly to their couplings, without the slightest thought of Rick, who seemed more and more distant and irrelevant in her life. She did however, continue to take her birth control pills religiously, and she never lost hope she would be together with her husband again.
N’Gono was a strict and relentless disciplinarian. Over the next three months Evelyn learned, under his careful tutelage, what was expected of an African wife. It became second nature for her to remove her top in his house, and after a few more forgetful infractions, he did not have to punish her for the sinful, rebellious act of hiding her breasts from him again. His lovely white woman, who was on her knees when he opened the door and on her back whenever she was told, met him each night after work.
Evelyn grew darkly and evenly tanned, like the other white women.
Her labia grew darker and thicker and much more pronounced, due to the daily insertion of his very large African manhood, and her vagina’s adjustment to it.
Her body had changed a great deal in other ways as well, and it concerned her. How would Rick react to it when they finally got out of the Sudan? For that matter, how would she react to returning to her old, sexually prosaic life with him? Evelyn had grown accustomed to sex with N’Gono, physically, mentally and emotionally. Her vagina had stretched to fit him perfectly. She doubted she would even be able to feel Rick’s tiny white organ, and she wondered if she could go without the thrill and pleasure of N’Gono’s big black man-shaft.
She had admitted to herself over the months that N’Gono was a superior man in every way. Once she had gotten over her initial, ingrained racism, she had subconsciously become more attracted to black men, and had come to regard Negroid features as especially handsome. The truth was, Rick no longer attracted her sexually, aesthetically, or as a stable life partner. She no longer thought of him as protector, or even, as time went by, as husband. N’Gono had filled those roles for some time now, and the concept was solidifying in her mind.
Could she go back to Iowa with Rick, never to see N’Gono again? Even as she knew that was what she should be hoping for, the thought she might have to choose filled her with dread.

One morning, when Evelyn was working in the villa, she met a new girl. Her name was Sharon, and none of the other white women liked her, because, as Julie said, she was a “complete slut.”
Evelyn thought it odd, since all of them were acting similarly with their own black men. But there was something different about Sharon. She seemed to take whoredom to a whole new plane.
She was perhaps 16 or 17, and never wore clothing, except for a leather anklet on her right leg. She almost hurried from house to house, to clean and entertain, but spent much time in the grand villa as well. Jayant seemed to be mounting her more or less continually, at least two or three times a day. For that at least, the white women were grateful, as it occupied the old butler’s time and lust.
She didn’t do much work, which was the primary source of consternation between her and the others. She sought out any man in the villa; whether it was the doctor, Jayant, or any other elder, brother, or guest, for sex. It might be in one of the rooms on a bed, or on a sofa, or the floor. It might be in a hallway, but Sharon was fucked at least six to ten times a day. Practically every time Evelyn saw her for the first few days, she was coupled with a black man.
Evelyn first managed to speak to her on an afternoon when she had finished cleaning the staterooms. Julie and Deanna were scrubbing the veranda deck, and Sharon had just drained Jayant’s balls for the second time. The old black butler would not be able to get it up for another few hours.
“You’re… you’re Sharon?” asked Evelyn. “You’re American, right?”
“Yes,” said Sharon. “I was American.” There was semen running down her naked legs, bite marks on her nipples, and red spots on her skin where she had obviously been roughly handled by the man.
“I… I wanted to meet you,” said Evelyn. “I’m sorry the other girls don’t like you.”
“They’re just jealous because I’ve fucked their men better than they could.”
Evelyn looked taken aback.
“Oh, it’s not their fault,” said Sharon. “I’m a trained whore. They aren’t.”
“Are you here, because of the doctor?” asked Evelyn.
“Of course,” said Sharon. “We’re all here to serve the doctor and his church.”
“My husband and I were convicted of crimes we didn’t commit,” said Evelyn. “But we’re waiting for the American government to have us released.”
Sharon nodded, though she frowned as if she had heard it all before. “You better be careful. If your friends see you talking to me they might shun you as well.”
Evelyn shrugged. “You look as though you could use someone to talk to.”
Evelyn saw the expression on the younger girl’s face soften and she nodded as tears began to flow. Evelyn was the first sympathetic person she had met in months.
The two girls went outside and sat in the shade of a thicket where they could talk in private. They told each other their stories and shared some of their experiences.
“You’re so lucky to be N’Gono’s woman,” said Sharon. “I have never been given to anyone, so I’m considered communal property. Any man can fuck me at time, in any way he chooses.”
“Why didn’t the doctor give you to someone?” asked Evelyn.
“He mold’s our lives in the way that most amuses him,” said Sharon. “For most of the white women, he takes pride in breaking up their white marriages and families, and offering them to his fellow Africans. That is the way he builds his church and the method he uses to gain revenge on the white race. None of the women ever go back to their white husbands. He alters their lives forever, just as the white man raped and altered Africa.”
“I have never been married,” continued Sharon. “I was an innocent 16 year old exchange student from America’s Bible belt. I was a virgin from a very fundamentalist family. The doctor decided to alter my life by turning me into a whore.”
“I spent several months as his personal body slave, Then he sent me to the brothels in Khartoum, where I’ve learned my trade for the past year. When he thought I was sufficiently broken he had me returned. Now I serve him and the members of his church.”
“I know he tries to break us,” said Evelyn. “He left me in the prison for a week. The men there are so evil and cruel. They’ll rape a woman any chance they get! The doctor and the men have trained all of us with the whip, and the threat of punishment. He’s tried to drive out my love for my husband…” Evelyn’s voice trailed off. She had suddenly realized that the doctor had been largely successful in that regard.
“It’s like that in the brothels- only much worse,” said Sharon, bitterly. She looked away from Evelyn, deeply ashamed. “You hate it and try to fight it. You try to tell yourself you feel nothing as the strange men fuck you. But it kills you inside to lie to yourself, and they make you act like you enjoy it anyway.”
“Someday you may go back to the States, back to your family,” said Evelyn, trying to sooth teenager, “no one will know about all this. You can meet a nice boy and get married…”
“I’ll always be a slut, Evelyn,” said Sharon, her voice trebling as she shook her head. “Even if he lets me go. You don’t understand. You don’t know what it’s like in an African whorehouse! No woman does who hasn’t experienced it. It’s not like a simple rape back in America. It isn’t like being violated in a dark alley, then left to return home and recover. You lay back and spread your legs two, three, four times a night or more- with a different man each time. At first you try to resist and the customers or the brothel keepers hurt you terribly. Then you try to keep your mind pure by sacrificing your body and gritting your teeth and fighting the feelings. But then every time they take you it’s rape, and you feel filthy and abused. Then you try to tell yourself it’s not your fault. You’re really a good girl. Your soul is still virgin, regardless of what they’re doing to your body… But you can’t… can’t… because it’s all a lie!”
Sharon broke down, sobbing. Evelyn held her tight but said nothing. In a few moments the teen was able to speak again.
“It’s the feelings,” she said. “Every time a man enters you. Every time he pushes that stiff shaft in to the balls- you know the truth. You enjoy it! You finally admit to yourself. YOU ENJOY IT! The more you love it the sweeter it becomes and the sharper the pleasure, the greater the need for it. Then your customer cums and his passion is spent. But you remember what it was like and the feeling that it brought.”
“When he’s gone you lie there alone, hating yourself. You take a shower and try to clean yourself, but it doesn’t cleanse your mind. You lay on the bed and try to tell yourself you were forced. But you remember you’re waiting for the next man and the feelings come back. The door opens and your next lover enters. He might be short or tall, young or old, fat or thin, handsome or ugly, Black or Arab. But he gets a hardon when he sees you, and that makes you wet all over again- knowing that it’s you he wants and you have no choice. It becomes an overpowering addiction.”
“You can lie to yourself all you want,” said Sharon. “But sooner or later you can’t take the shame and the pleasure anymore, and you give in; your brain and your body accept it and you truly give in. At the last you know it in your heart that you can never escape it. You become a whore to save yourself, because your mind can’t take the pain, but you can never go back. You will always be that way! I can never, ever go back- because I can’t live without black cock!”
Evelyn stroked the girl’s cheek and pushed back the strands of hair from her face. She tried to comfort Sharon, but her own mind was reeling. The doctor had won. He had turned the girl into a nymphomaniac!
“That’s what Dr. Kamwego does,” cried Sharon. “He turns your mind and your morality inside out. And you become exactly what he wants you to be.”
Evelyn sat holding the distraught young girl in her arms. But the force of Sharon’s sobs caused the little gold shape to bounce against Evelyn’s clit. A sadistic thrill shot through Evelyn as she thought about Sharon’s new life, and what the doctor had done to a previously innocent, white virgin. It was all she could do to bite her tongue, as her mind swirled, and her loins shuddered in orgasmic fury.



Chapter 15

“I have bad news Mrs. Kvindlog,” said the embassy man. “I’m afraid the United States government can offer you no further assistance in this matter.”
The news hit Evelyn like a brick wall. She almost fainted. She had waited so long, and been so convinced that the embassy man would get her released. It had kept her hopes alive despite what she had been compelled to do to receive N’Gono’s protection. Her faith had never faltered.
That morning, the doctor had come to N’Gono’s hut. He had instructed her to prepare to meet with the U.S. embassy representative, and she had been allowed to put on modern, Western clothing. Kamwego had driven her up to the villa and hope had soared in her mind that the American government had effected their release. They were going back to the States!
Now in the space of a few seconds, the hope that had sustained her and provided a mental and emotional lifeline to her marriage and her old life had been swept aside.
“But… but the last time you were here, Mr. Schwartz, you said you could help us! You said it was only a matter of time…”
He was nodding his head sadly. “I said it would take time. I made no promises. But the Sudan has recently made strong peace overtures to the U.S., and progress in combating the drug trade. The State Department has decided not to risk antagonizing them by pressing them on the subject of your case. It would be very awkward for the United States government to insist that the Sudanese crack down on their own nationals for drug crimes, while trying at the same time to get Americans convicted of drug trafficking released.”
“But we’re not guilty!” shouted Evelyn.
“Mrs. Kvindlog, as I told you during my last visit, the Sudan is a sovereign country. You and your husband were given due process and convicted. We cannot interfere with their system of justice.”
“What about my parents, and Rick’s parents? Have they been able to talk with someone here with the power to help us?”
The embassy man sighed. “They’ve been denied visas. And your Sudanese attorney has told me that he has exhausted all further avenues of appeal. Perhaps in two or three years, when relations between the U.S and the Sudan have congealed…”
“Two or three years!” gasped Evelyn. “But I can’t… You don’t know what it’s like here. I’ve been raped and abused… I’m living with a native man whose not… not my husband… because he protects me…”
Shwartz was looking at her incredulously. “Actually, Mrs. Kvindlog, we think you’ve very fortunate to have been allowed a parole with Dr. Kamwego and his church. It is true that African prisons are no place for a white woman. In this compound you will be safe, and can be rehabilitated in a moral atmosphere.”
“You don’t understand,” said Evelyn “This place is not a church, it’s a…”
Suddenly Kamwego appeared through the door, and smiled tightly at Evelyn. She recognized the warning in his eyes.
The embassy man shrugged. “You and your husband are simply going to have to serve out your sentences, Mrs. Kvindlog. If I were you, I’d make the best of it with Dr. Kamwego, and be grateful for his help.”
Evelyn’s heart fell. She knew she could say nothing further with the doctor there, and it was obvious that there would be no help coming from the American Embassy anyway.
Terribly distraught, Evelyn left the room with her head down, without saying goodbye to Schwartz. As she passed Jayant in the hallway, he told her in a low voice; “The doctor said for you to go back to N’Gono’s hut. He has discovered your rebellion, and your punishment will be severe.”
Evelyn did not know what he was talking about, and she didn’t care. Her mind was numbed and her thoughts disjointed. All the way back she vacillated between denial and despair, unable to accept or comprehend that the life she had known was over. She might never see Rick or her family again.
So lost she was in her own malaise that she forgot to remove her American clothing when she entered the house. Kamwego and N’Gono were waiting for her, and she suddenly realized she was standing before them wearing shoes, and with her breasts covered. So conditioned was she to be dressed ‘properly’ before African men, that a feeling of intense guilt immediately washed over her. And she could sense an overpowering anger in her protector.
“You sinful, haughty white woman!” shouted the doctor. “Now your man will deal with you!”
Without a word, N’Gono leapt to his feet. He seized her and began ripping her clothes off. Evelyn began whimpering and crying weakly, trying to apologize. She began to remove her garments, but he was using his dagger now to cut through the straps of her shoes. He slapped her hands away, as if the tell her that she was not to undress herself. She was to be stripped!
He sliced her socks away and made short work of her blouse and skirt, terrifying her with the speed in which he worked the razor sharp blade. When her bra and panties were cut loose and thrown aside, she went trembling to her knees, sobbing and contrite, utterly broken. The news that the U.S. government was abandoning her had put her mind in emotional flux. Now she was terrified by the violence of the men who held her in their power.
She lowered her eyes and spread her legs, assuming the proper posture and hoping against hope that N’Gono might be satisfied with her display of submission. But the ambiance of rage did not abate. There seemed to be something else he was upset about beside her ‘sinful’ garments. Some further way that she had earned his wrath.
Kamwego grasped her by her the hair and pulled her head back violently. He held a little plastic box before her eyes, and Evelyn’s blood froze with shock and dread. Her birth control pills!
“Tell N’Gono what these are,” snapped the doctor.
“I… they… I was only… ahhhhh!”
The doctor slapped her brutally on the face.
“Tell him, you white bitch,” shouted Kamwego. “Tell him how you rebelled and betrayed him! How you rejected his seed! What do these pills do?”
“They… Please…”
“Tell him!”
“They keep me from conceiving…” gasped Evelyn. “So I won’t have a baby… I’ve been taking them since before we came to Africa. Please, I’m sorry, N’Gono!” She looked up at him, imploring him for mercy, but saw only the hard, flinty set of hurt and rage in his face.
Evelyn’s African man seized her by her slender neck and lifted her from the floor. Holding her bent over he dragged her to the bathroom over the toilet, and forced her to kneel. He thrust the box into her hands.
“Throw them in shit hole,” he growled, tightening his grip on her neck and squeezing until she could hardly breathe.
Evelyn obeyed, emptying the contents of the box into the toilet.
“Doctor say you have more.” demanded N’Gono. “You hide more?”
Capitulating totally now, Evelyn showed him the remaining supply of her contraceptives that she had hidden, and dumped them also into bowl. Then he flushed the toilet, and she watched the little tablets swirl in the current before they disappeared. She would no longer have any protection from insemination.
Evelyn felt hollow, guilty, afraid, and confused, but her punishment had just begun. N’Gono pulled her out to the old tree in the desert, slapping and beating her all the way. He chained her to it and left her there with only a gourd of water, for the remainder of the day and all through the night.
When he returned in the morning, Evelyn was on her knees, begging abjectly for forgiveness- but he said nothing. It was a Sunday, and Evelyn was marched, just as she was, naked and filthy, in a long, barefoot walk to the church. She was forced into a heavy iron collar used to restrain black slaves in the region’s past. This was attached to a thick chain, which secured her to the floor at the feet of the doctor, before the entire assembly.
Kamwego gave an entire sermon, basing it on her, calling everyone to see the wretched state of a white woman who had rebelled against her man and murdered the seed placed within her. All present looked on her with contempt as the doctor described her crime, and condemned her for her Caucasian pride. When he has finished, even Evelyn was ashamed at what she had done.
After the service, Evelyn was taken outside, still with the iron collar about her neck. The black men formed a large circle and she was thrust within it. N’Gono appeared with a long, stiff whip, made from the hide of the hippo. Evelyn had seen it used on Sharon. It did not break the skin or cause scars, but its blunt effect was brutal, and agonizing. She knelt in the sand in mortal fear.
“Ple… please, N’Gono… Please forgive me… no… I can’t take that… please, no… AAAAAAAIIIIEEEEEEEEE!”
He landed the first blow, and the pain exploded with terrible vibrancy onto her naked flesh. In bland panic, she bolted onto her feet and tried to flee, but the circle of black men would not let her out.
“AAAAAGGHHHHHH!” she screamed as another lash fell on her buttocks.
“N’Gono, please… N’Gono pleeeese… AAAHHHHHHAAAAAA.”
“White woman kill my seed,” he snarled.
“NOOOOOOOO,” screamed Evelyn. “Please it hurts too much I can’t stand… AAAAHHHHHHHAAAAAAAA!”
“AAAAAAAAHHHHHHHH, AAAAAiiieeehhh… AAAHHHHHHAAAAAA, stop pleeeeeease… AAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAIIIIIIIIIEEEEEEE.”
She wailed and ran around inside the circle, vainly trying to escape his whip. She attempted to cover herself with her hands and whimpered pathetically, alternately pleading with N’Gono for mercy and entreating the men to let her out. No one relented. She was taunted by everyone present, including the white women who stood outside the circle and hurled abuse on the white female who had refused her destiny to carry a black baby.
Hysteria drove out all conscious thought, drove out even her humanity. It was a terrified, naked animal that scampered about before her black captors now. And still the pain mounted in red, blinding sheets before her eyes, unlike anything she had known.
Now his arm was falling and retracting with horrible rapidity and her anguished screeches ran together. “AAAAAHHH N’GOONOOO PLEASE AAAAAAHHHHHHHH I CAAAN’T… OH GOG N’GOONOO AAAAAHHHHHHGGGGGGHHHHHH, AAAHHHGGG, AAAHHHHH, AAAAAAAHHEEEIIIIIIIEEE!”
Evelyn lost control of her bladder and the bright yellow liquid sprayed everywhere with her frantic movements. Still the blows came and the screams tore from her rasping throat. Several times she tried with adrenaline saturated desperation to breach the wall of black men, but was thrown back into the center of the ring, where N’Gono continued to flail savagely at her helpless flesh.
“White woman kill my seed!” yelled N’Gono, as he continued to lash her over and over.
Evelyn was babbling now; crying, screaming, swearing to obey him, professing remorse and a new desire to have his baby- if only he would stop the punishment. But all of it was barely coherent. From the agony she was feeling, she thought he must be literally flaying the skin from her back and belly, yet there was no blood. The slave whip did not scar its victims bodies, only their spirits.
Finally, as unconsciousness neared, she collapsed into the dirt. She lay there, panting, twitching, only vaguely aware that he had stopped whipping her. Her cries died slowly but the world seemed unreal, the pain soaking into her very soul as the dust of the ground caked her sweat drenched body. She discovered she had vomited, and this had at last stilled her screams, but the sting of the lash yet lingered everywhere on her flesh.
Somehow she knew now that that pain would never disappear from her mind. It would haunt her forever, and she could never disobey him again. Evelyn’s very soul had been beaten.
The rest of the congregation was gone. N’Gono forced her, exhausted as she was, to walk back to his house. There he dragged her to the back of the dwelling and raped her over and over on the little sand hill, roughly and without affection, or the slightest regard for her sensations. But Evelyn’s libido exploded with climax after climax, glorying with inexpressible joy each time he spewed his gushes of fecund semen into her now unprotected belly. Her being was broken, and she was being remade into his white African woman. N’Gono had enslaved her by his hand and his strength and his manly black cock. Incredibly, he had forced her to love him even more.



Chapter 16

After Evelyn had her period three weeks later, the doctor had summoned her to the villa, where he gave her medication that would enhance her fertility. She was told to take one pill every evening, without failure, and since N’Gono was now hyper-sensitive to any recalcitrance on her part regarding his efforts to impregnate her, Evelyn didn’t dare refuse to take them. If fact, on the doctor’s instruction, N’Gono dissolved each of the tablets in a glass of water and forced her to drink it before each of their nightly sexual encounters.
Also, Al-wani had returned to cast a fertility spell on Evelyn, rubbing her naked sex with the pungent, oily contents of a fetish bag, and likewise forcing her to drink a bitter herbal concoction; a traditional Dinka remedy for barren women. Julie told her that several of the white women who had been holding out on their black men had become pregnant after being treated with the witch woman’s fetishes. The Dinka had been dealing with such women for thousands of years, inuring them to the tribe and their men. They had become strong by selecting the best women from among their enemies and transforming them into Dinka mothers. It was said that the most reluctant women, those previously married to husbands from other tribes eventually became the most prolific producers of Dinka sons- and the most loyal to their new Dinka mates.
The shamaness was a very well respected medical practitioner among her people. Evelyn, like Julie before her, was coming to believe in the power of African drugs and traditional remedies. She realized, with a mixture of despair and resignation, that it was only a matter of time before she would be carrying N’Gono’s child. They were, after all, having sex at least every night, and sometimes during the day. But even now, there was a small voice within her, a feeling charged by her developing attraction toward N’Gono. It was a growing conviction that having his baby was not only inevitable, it was desirable. She had always wanted a child, dreamed about it even before her marriage to Rick. That desire had never gone away, but she had always assumed of course, that Rick would be the father. Now the little voice inside her mind was telling her that need not be the case. It might not be the case at any rate. Then the inescapable progression- it should not be the case.
N’Gono was bigger, much stronger, much more manly. He was her protector here in Africa while Rick was absent and there was no telling if she would ever see her husband again. Who then was her true husband? Should it not be the man who was providing for her, the man in whose house she lived in and who now ruled her daily life? The man who infused her with his maleness each night? Her basic female instincts were beginning to connect her love for N’Gono, the superior male, with her want and need for a child.
Also like Julie, Evelyn was slowly developing a taste and preference for black African features and physical traits. Gone were her inhibitions, ingrained by her upbringing in a racist home, against interracial sex and love. The months spent in Africa and the exclusive contact with Negro males had conditioned her to find them far more attractive than white men, who seemed weak, effeminate, and untrustworthy by comparison.
The more Evelyn thought about it, the more sure she became. She was in love with N’Gono. At the same time, she realized that she was no longer in love with Rick. It was N’Gono, who should be her husband, N’Gono who should rightfully give her a baby.
But her hopes and her vows were stubborn, and still clung to life. She still retained the core identity of a mid-western American woman. If she did escape back to America, a black child would be an onerous burden, especially considering her racist family. They would never accept her back, and they and Rick would demand that she adopt out the baby, something she was equally sure she could not do. She would never part with her firstborn. Evelyn would be in a soul-rending quandary.

Still, life continued. She still made love with N’Gono every night, with ever increasing enthusiasm. She still thrilled to his magnificent body and being, churning on the end of his phallus with her own explosive orgasms. Still took the fertility drugs religiously, and still thought about becoming pregnant with the deepest spiritual conflict. She could not go on this way, and Evelyn knew the issue would soon be decided. Deep in her soul, she also knew what that decision had to be.
But N’Gono was required to travel to his village to convert more Dinka to the Church, and receive honors bestowed by the local chief. He had been unable to have relations with Evelyn during the critical time frame, and Evelyn’s period came. Despite N’Gono’s copious earlier efforts, her womb remained empty of a Dinka child.
Now, a month later, Evelyn was entering her fertile time of the month, and N’Gono was as determined as ever. She had a feeling, almost a premonition that insemination was going to take place. N’Gono had also been informed of Evelyn’s impending fecundity by Al-wani, who had been examining her regularly.
N’Gono was fucking her vigorously now, three or four times a day, gushing himself directly into her with each encounter. He wanted her pregnant on this monthly cycle, so that he could begin to share her with the other men of the church. It would enhance his social standing and allow him to sample their white women as well.
One morning, after N’Gono had left to tend the church grounds, Evelyn was busy doing her chores around the house. Her black lover had plied her with his manhood for nearly two hours after they had awakened, and given her convulsive climaxes that had seemed to electrify her very soul. He had also twice given her prodigious draughts of his potent essence. Each instance, as per the shamaness, instructions, he had ordered her into positions, which would allow his liquid seed to run up into her womb, where a maximum amount would be retained. When he had cum in her the first time he had placed two pillows under her lower back, and held her legs aloft for some time. Evelyn could actually feel the soothing warmth of his jism as it slithered purposefully into her uterus.
Then they had engaged in sex again, and when the act had been consummated N’Gono placed her on her knees, pushing her head to the sheets so that her belly sloped downward. Again she could feel his viscous load moving, seeping deeper into her belly. He was making sure that his semen was coating the inside of her womb completely.
In the afternoon, N’Gono told her, he would they would repeat the procedure, then it would happen again at least twice more after they went to bed that evening. Whenever her next egg descended, it would be bathed in a pool of his sperm.
Now after N’Gono had gone, Evelyn cleaned the bathroom. She was still naked, a little dazed from the power of her own only partially sated libido and she looked again at herself in the mirror.
The skin of her face and chest was flushed slightly, and there were red marks on her breasts from his bites and pinches. Her nipples were erect, as they usually were these days, and her labia puffy and flowered open. After months of taking N’Gono’s manhood, her vagina had been permanently stretched so that it fit him perfectly. The little gold ball which hung over her clit seemed to throb and pulse of its own accord, along with her sex lips so swollen by frequent eager clasping around her man’s huge black organ. It kept her excited and aroused- thinking about N’Gono all the time, just as Al-wani had said.
She sighed. Life was so different now, and her old life seemed increasingly distant and unreal. She wondered at that moment whether she could go back to America with Rick, even if she had the chance. She doubted she could live without the feelings that the big African gave her, and she was conscious of her growing psychological dependence on his discipline.
It was all so different from the world she had known in America and the way she had been raised. But Africa was tangible and alive. It was almost as if the land itself was drawing her, transforming her, fixing her in a new reality. Then the cloudy fluid running down her legs reminded her of what was real and relevant. N’Gono would have her pregnant very soon. And that would bind her to him forever.
Suddenly there was a knock at the front door, and Evelyn was jolted out of her revere.
She quickly went to answer it, thinking that it must be Julie, because N’Gono would not have knocked. She wrapped the kanga around her waist and padded to the entryway. Upon opening the door, Evelyn stiffened with surprise. On the doorstep was a disheveled, ragged white man who stood hunched and looking about nervously. Evelyn took him for a beggar, but she could not figure how he could have gotten into the church compound.
“Can I help you?” she asked.
The man said nothing, but his blue eyes flashed and he ogled her naked breasts with undisguised lust, and obvious confusion. Evelyn thought perhaps he was mentally deficient but as she looked closer, she decided he was not so old as he appeared, just partially infirmed by abuse and hard life. And there was something oddly familiar about him.
“Hello Evelyn,” he said, finally.
Evelyn could not suppress a gasp as she stared in horror at the pathetic figure on her porch. “Rick?” she asked tentatively. “Is… is that you?”
“Yes,” he replied, with a tight, pained smile. “It’s me.”
The young wife beheld her husband, and shuddered at how he had changed. His body was stooped and very gaunt, and his hair was long- unkempt and unwashed. He had a thin, dark beard, which bristled ugly and coarse from his chin. His skin was sallow, almost pasty white. Apparently he had been cell bound for a very long time, away from sun, open air and exercise.
“I… how… did they set you free?” asked Evelyn, at a loss. She too was looking up and down the street nervously, as she remembered that contact with a white man was strictly forbidden by the church. Dr. Kamwego said it was sinful. But she was also nervous about bringing him in. If she were caught inside the house with her husband, a white man at that, she knew N’Gono would severely punish her. At the moment however, no one was around, so Evelyn quickly usured him over the threshold and into the living room. At least there, they could talk without being seen.
Up close now, she was even more appalled at the condition of the man she had once thought of as so handsome and desirable. His prison uniform was filthy and ill fitting, and he stank with the horrible stench of a man who had not bathed for months. But his eyes were still bright in a shifty way, like a half-starved, caged animal. He was a man beaten by his environment, subdued by the African prison in which he had spent the last six months. Evelyn was filled with pity for him- and revulsion.
He reached for his wife, to embrace her, but Evelyn, on instinct, shied away. In her sub-conscious she was now N’Gono’s woman, the touch of a white man was taboo. And Rick seemed so- ugly.
He looked puzzled again at her physical rejection, but he needed to talk to her, and there was little time. The doctor had required him to report back to the villa in a half-hour.
“What are you doing in that getup?” he asked, staring at her naked breasts with open lust. He had not had a woman in the six months he had spent in the prison. Masturbation had been his only joy, keyed to the fading memory of his wife’s lovely form.
“Oh, ah… I’m… Just puttering around the house,” she replied.
“What’s all this stuff?” Rick asked, referring to the African furniture and the trappings of N’Gono’s tribe and warrior status which hung from the walls. He went over to the couch to sit and gazed about the room with a quizzical expression.
“It’s… it’s good to see you again, Rick,” she stuttered, trying to hide her discomfort. “Have they… treated you all right in the prison?” She saw him wince.
“I’m alive, honey… they…”
Evelyn could not meet his eyes. She could only imagine how he had been abused there.
“The doctor tells me you were released a week or so after your sentence,” he said. “You’ve been living here and working for him.”
“Yes… I frequently work at the villa.”
“Have you found some women friends? I’m told there are other white women here.”
“Yes, ah… Julie Krutzberg’s here. Remember her in college? Julie ‘the prude?’”
“Yeah, she married Tom. They were going to change the world. How are they?”
“Ah… fine. Julie’s remarried… and not so uptight anymore,” Evelyn said, trying to deflect the subject.
Rick laughed, but Evelyn noticed the strain in his face.
“Did your white girlfriends fix your hair like that? I’ve never seen that on you before. Looks like a black African woman.”
“Ah… yes,” Evelyn replied. “The white women in the compound all wear their hair this way. It’s much cooler.”
The small talk was running out and they were both very uncomfortable. There was so much to say, but each felt the other was like a stranger. An awkward silence ensued, but finally Rick forced himself to say what he had come to say.
“Evelyn, the prison is killing me. It’s a hell in there and I can’t survive it much longer. Dr. Kamwego says he’ll intercede for me and have me released- if I divorce you.”
Evelyn’s jaw dropped, “you… divorce me?”
“Evelyn… I still love you…”
“But you’re ending our marriage…?” Evelyn could scarcely believe what she was hearing. She felt a sting in her heart of betrayal and rejection and turned away to look at the wall. “Are you… Rick, are you going to do it?”
He nodded. “I don’t have any choice, Evelyn. The doctor says I have to file in both the U.S. and the Sudan. I don’t know why. It’s just part of this sick trap he’s snared us in. But I have no hope of getting out otherwise. I filed last month and the papers have come. I signed them. That’s why he is allowing me out to see you. You’ll have to sign them at the villa tomorrow.”
Evelyn began to cry softly. After all the dreams they had before coming to Africa. After their drug convictions and prison, the months of hope and faith that they would be together in the end. After all the anguish over her sexual responses and affection for N’Gono. Rick was going to divorce her. She knew intellectually why he was doing it, but deep inside the pain was still there. He was planning to leave the Sudan, apparently without her. He had abandoned his vows. Now he had abandoned her.
“Evelyn, it doesn’t mean a thing,” he tried to add. “Once I get back to the states I’ll expose Kamwego’s church. I’ll come back to get you out and we can be married again, home in America.”
The young white woman’s eyes were filled with tears now.
“Evelyn, please… It’s the only way. It will take a few months… but I promise I’ll be back to…”
“Rick,” she whispered, choked with despair. “I’ll be pregnant by then!”
Rick was stunned. He looked as if he had been slapped in the face.
“N’Gono,” she said. “He lives here now. The doctor has given me to him.”
Rick’s paper-white face darkened with his old jealousy. Only now it was sharper, uglier. “Who’s N’Gono? What the hell are you talking about?”
“Remember the gardener, Rick? The one you told me not to worry about? That’s N’Gono. He’s a church member,” she said, looking away from his face. “I’ve been living with him for… for almost six months.”
She could see the shock and pain on his pale, drawn face. He seemed much older now than the young man she had married, and she could hear the hate in his voice. He was disgusting; so alien and coarse- and so angry.
“You’re… living with another man?” he spat. “While I’ve been rotting in that hole?”
“Yes…” she admitted, unable to look at him but trying to remain calm.
“He lives here… and you… you dress like that for a… a black man?” he asked.
Evelyn hung her head. She took a deep breath and decided to tell him all. “Yes. Rick… I have no choice… the doctor has given me to a Dinka man. This how N’Gono wants me to dress, as a Dinka women dresses.”
Desolation washed over the already defeated young man. “Do you… Does he…?
“Rick, please. Forgive me. I told you I didn’t have any choice!”
“All these months I thought about you,” he said. “All I wanted was to get out of that shit-hole and go back home to my faithful Christian wife. Did you…?”
“Yes, Rick,” she cried finally. “He’s fucking me all the time. What do you expect? I’m his woman now! And every month in my fertile time he takes me two or three times a day!”
Impotent rage played across his face. But the months in prison had cowed him and taught him caution. He still loved her, and found her more beautiful than ever. Her kanga and African hairstyle made her look exotic, anathema of the decorous mid-western woman he had known. But he wanted her. The men in prison had raped him many times, and now he wanted back what was his- to feel like a man again. His anger was converting to passion, and he moved to embrace her.
“Rick, stop it! Rick, no…” she said, moving away again.
“Evelyn… I want… Please, I don’t know how long they’ll let me stay out. Please, let me make love to you…”
“No, Rick, we can’t. Please, N’Gono might come back any minute!”
“N’Gono? You’re my wife! Mine,” he shouted, seizing her in a desperate grip of need and wounded pride and lust. “Evelyn, I want you… It’s been so long!”
“Noooo!” she shouted, twisting from his fevered grasp. “Rick, don’t you understand. N’Gono would kill you!”
Undeterred, he lunged for her again, once again latching on and pushing his lips forcefully to hers. She smelled his fetid breath and heard his excited panting. But he was much weaker than N’Gono, and she could sense it.
She slapped him across the face to prevent his mouth from touching hers and he recoiled with astonishment. It seemed to sober him, but Evelyn could see the rage building within him.
“Damn it, you’re my wife!” he shouted. “I want to make love to you!”
“I’m not your wife anymore,” she said bitterly. “You divorced me!”
“That’s only a formality.”
“Is it?” she asked.
“I said I’d come back for you.”
“How will you get me out?” she asked, incredulously.
“I’ll… I don’t know… But I’ll…
“How will you deal with N’Gono, Rick? You’re no match for him and he’ll never give me up.”
“I… I’ll get help…” he replied, unconvincingly.
“And what will I do with a black, Dinka baby in Iowa?” she asked.
“What about your contraceptive pills?”
“N’Gono made me flush them down the toilet. The doctor is forcing me on fertility drugs now.”
“Then have it aborted.”
Evelyn gasped. “You know I could never do that. A child I’ve carried? Besides, N’Gono and the doctor would never allow it.”
Again he grimaced. The mention of her black lover’s name and her tacit acceptance of his authority infuriated him. “Allow it? I’m your hus…” he caught himself as she glared at him. “We’ll have it adopted out when we get back!”
“Rick, you don’t understand. My baby would be part of me forever. I just couldn’t do that.”
“You don’t think I’m going to raise a nigger baby!” he snarled.
“No…” she whispered, now looking down at her bare feet. She knew this was the moment she would have to make a decision. “I don’t think you’ll have to. I will be loyal to the father of my child.”
He stared in disbelief. “What are you…? Are you saying you’re going to stay here voluntarily if that big nigger makes you pregnant?”
There was a long pause, then she whispered, “yes.”
He just stared at her, and she could see a glint of thwarted male possessiveness, along with the deep hurt, in his eyes. Suddenly he could endure no more and his rage exploded.
“You bitch!” he hissed. “So you’ll be loyal to whoever fathers your brat! Then I’ll just have to make sure it’s mine!”
Then he was on her, ripping away her kanga and trying to pull his prison uniform off. He saw the tattoos on her belly and back and it enflamed his anger even more.
“What’s this shit on you?” he shouted.
“N’Gono’s mark,” she wailed. “The sign of his house. I told you, I belong to him now. Please go before he comes back!”
“Bitch!” Once again he felt the paradox of jealousy and arousal. Though he was horrified by the markings and their implication, it seemed to drive his lust and passion even more, and he latched onto her with new determination. She tried to push him away but he cornered her and forced her onto the couch on her back.
“Rick… please… RICK STOP IT!” she screamed. “N’Gono could come home any time!
“Your Negro lover’s not going to stop me!” he screamed maniacally. “You’re mine. My wife. You’re going to have my baby!”
“Rick, you don’t know what you’re doing! N’Gono could kill you! Aaaaahhhhh…”
He backhanded her across the face. Momentarily stunned by the blow, Evelyn simply lay there panting with exertion. She saw him pulling the filthy prison suit off, and her eyes fixed on his coral pink manhood, fully erect but still only four inches long. He looked so pathetic to her eyes now, so pedantically cruel and selfish. She wondered at that moment what she had ever seen in him. Suddenly the very thought that he might penetrate her with his odious little white manhood sickened her, and she redoubled her efforts to escape his grasp.
“You’re my wife,” he shouted petulantly. “I’m going to make you pregnant and you’re going back with me!”
“You brought me here”, she snapped. “All this is your fault! You’re foolish ambition. YOU PUT ME IN HIS BED! AAAAGGGHHHHHH.”
He slapped her again, viciously, and climbed between her thrashing legs. “Shut up, bitch! I’m going to fuck you now!”
“Noooooooo…” she screamed. He plunged into her with his stiff four inches. Though she could scarcely sense his narrow shaft in her vagina, accustomed as it was to N’Gono’s huge phallus, she could feel the light, clammy touch of his small scrotum as it grazed her sex lips. He was in her to the balls, pumping his hips like a male rodent and wheezing with exertion.
“Gonna cum,” he snarled. “Gonna make you mine again, Evelyn… With a white baby!”
“Noooooo,” she heaved. “I hate you! I hate you! You bastard! NOOOOOOO!”
She pounded on his chest with her fists, and desperately tried to twist out from beneath him or dislodge his penis. But the strength in his atrophied limbs was borne of adrenaline and demented lust. He remained firming inside her, and she sensed he was indeed about to ejaculate.
A wave of nausea struck her at the prospect of receiving his loathsome slime, but she could not throw him off. With a groan of revulsion she tensed for the foul moment of his orgasm, when this weak, inferior white man would fill her with his rape child. Evelyn had never felt so defiled!
Suddenly Rick tensed and his eyes seemed to bulge. Thinking he was cumming, Evelyn had shut her own eyes tight, not wanting to look into his ugly, pale face while it was happening. But Rick emitted a painful gasp and stopped pumping. She opened her eyes and saw a big, black hand encircling his throat from behind.
“OOOGGGGhhhhh, hhaaaaaahhhh!” he choked.
Rick was pulled from her body like a limp doll, and Evelyn felt his thin, little organ slip from the warmth of her sex. N’Gono was holding him from behind by the neck; lifting him off the floor. With his other hand, Evelyn could see he was grasping the white man by the balls, squeezing them and preventing his imminent ejaculation. Rick was thrashing about helplessly, gasping for breath, his face blood red. His mouth was moving but there was no sound except for strangled gulps for air. Then N’Gono released his testicles and Rick’s semen gushed forth, squirting from his shaft as his arms and legs flailed around. The seed intended for Evelyn’s womb splashed harmlessly onto the floor, to lay inertly under N’Gono’s trampling feet.
Rick gazed with terror into the black man’s face, managing only one word before N’Gono hurled him to the floor like a lifeless rag.
“Please…” he gasped. But the African was kicking him, landing swift blows to his abdomen and crotch whenever he tried to get up. UUUGG, AAHHHHhhhh… Ummmpphh… AAAAhhhhhhhhhhhhhh…
In desperation the much smaller white man tried to make it to the door, but N’Gono felled him with a savage blow to his solar plexus. Thereafter, began a methodical beating. Rick didn’t even try to fight back.
“Please… MMMMuuuu… AAAAhhhh, Gguuuuuhhh… I’m sorry… AAAAGGGGHhhh!
Evelyn watched as the punishment continued, saw her ex-husband grovel and plead for mercy between each shattering impact on his pasty white body. She was filled with revulsion for white men, and gratitude to N’Gono, for his dominance and his justice, and his defense of his woman. But at length he lifted the hapless white man off his feet and pinned him against the wall.
Rick felt two iron black hands tightened about his throat and pure panic roiled in his popping eyeballs. Evelyn could see that N’Gono meant to finish him off.
“No… N’Gono, please don’t kill him!” she cried, leaping from the couch to entreat with her lover. “Please, N’Gono…”
The black man looked down at her as she knelt, and clasped his massive black leg. He stopped, and she could see his manly, African face. His coal dark eyes narrowed.
“Please, N’Gono, I’m yours now…” she said softly. “He’s not worth your wrath. Please let him live…”
N’Gono loosened his grip and Rick sank to the floor in a naked heap of sweaty, bleeding white flesh.
Evelyn embraced her African victor, but N’Gono pushed her back onto the couch, spreading her legs. Then he seized Rick by the neck again and thrust his face into Evelyn’s sex.
“Lick her out,” he commanded. “In case any you poison get in her!”
Rick did not display the slightest resistance. Though none of his semen had reached her, he began to clean her thoroughly with his tongue in order to placate his tormenter. After a few minutes he felt the black man’s hand lift him by the hair and toss him to the floor again.
“Lick up you white seed from my house!”
Again Rick obeyed, terrified that the beating might resume. When he was finished he looked up to see that N’Gono was holding a whip.
He was not even allowed to retrieve his prison uniform as the African lashed him back out the front door. Thinking only of freedom and safety now, he ran from the house, fleeing naked and whimpering back to the doctor’s villa. He did not look back.
Inside, N’Gono’s house Evelyn knelt, trembling, waiting for the inevitable punishment she was due for the sin of being touched by a white man.
She heard his heavy footsteps approach, but kept her eyes down, steeling herself for the first sting of his whip.
It never came. Instead, he picked her up tenderly and carried her to their bed, laying her gently on her back. Her legs opened with quiet acceptance as he mounted her with his great frame. He impaled her with one thrust of his massive, black manhood, sinking into her welcoming tightness with silent confidence. He was master of all he surveyed, claiming his woman in the age-old way of his tribe. And as Evelyn dissolved into the fierceness of his rut, the last scraps of feeling or regard for Rick morphed into a new and even deeper love for N’Gono, and a gratitude for his allowing the pathetic white male to live.
If he had died, Rick might have haunted her forever, now her heart and soul belonged to her African man. When she felt N’Gono’s seed gushing into her, Evelyn cherished it, sealing as it did the most profound submission of her life.



Chapter 17

The events immediately subsequent to Evelyn’s near rape by Rick seemed to pass with a blur. The next day at the villa she was given the divorce papers by the doctor, who watched as she signed them. He had them notarized and informed Evelyn that they had become official with her signature of no contest. Rick was no longer her husband.
As they worked in the mansion, Evelyn talked with Julie. Her friend had gradually gotten over her resentment towards Evelyn for having used contraceptives, and the two women were now talking again.
Evelyn told her about the visit from Rick, about his outburst and his attempt to force himself on her. She also told Julie that just as she had predicted, she no longer found white men to be the least bit attractive. On the other hand, she found nearly all black men handsome now.
“I told you,” laughed Julie. “Al-wani’s spells are working.”
They both giggled, but Evelyn still had a heavy heart.
Julie tried to comfort her. She told Evelyn that her divorce from Rick was the right thing.
“Your marriage to a white man had no standing within the church,” she said. “But your vows to Rick were affecting your subconscious, inhibiting your relationship with N’Gono. It was weighing on your mind, Evelyn.”
Evelyn nodded, feeling miserable.
“Now you’re free to learn how to please N’Gono,” said Julie. “You’re on your way to becoming a Dinka man’s woman.”
“But what about my family in America? Will I ever see them again?”
Julie put her arm around her friend’s shoulder. “Evelyn, for thousands of years women have left their families for men. Your black man is your first loyalty. And until you have his child, N’Gono is your only loyalty. Do you think you’re pregnant yet?”
“No… no, I’m just now coming into my most fertile period, this week. But he’s been trying!”
Both girls laughed again, and as the day wore on, Evelyn began to feel better about her future.
Sharon was having a busy day fucking Jayant and a couple of other church officials, but she too was able to talk with Evelyn, and had much the same take on things. She had never been married, but couldn’t imagine being with a white man. It just seemed so- immoral.

It was that night that N’Gono made the announcement that shocked Evelyn to her toes, and was to change her life profoundly and forever.
He was going to marry her the next day. She was to become his sixth wife, and his third minor wife. But his first white woman. He told her to prepare herself. The wedding would be in the afternoon.
Per tradition, N’Gono did not touch her that evening. Evelyn spent a restless night on the floor, in a lonely corner of the house. In the morning, she was led to the villa by Deanna and Julie, who had already heard the news and were giddy as schoolgirls.
They knelt before the shamaness for an hour as the old woman hung odd smelling fetishes about Evelyn’s neck and cast a series of spells onto her flesh; Dinka spells, binding her to N’Gono and his will. There were also spells enhancing her fertility, the health of her womb and breasts, and her desire for him.
Then the other white women took Evelyn to one of the bathrooms to prepare. She showered and was given a new kanga. Her hair was washed and freshly cornrowed in the east African style. A dark lipstick was applied to her facial lips and her nipples were rouged. All the while they talked incessantly about Evelyn’s new life and how lucky she was. She had been very uncertain as she had started the day, now she truly felt like a bride, and her happiness grew as she anticipated her wedding to N’Gono. Even the fact that he had five other wives did not dampen her joy. That was simply one more thing about Africa and Dinka culture she would have to adapt to. She was becoming his woman for real now.
Many black men and women from the church, as well as relatives and friends from his Dinka clan came to see N’Gono claim another wife. They were dressed in colorful African finery, and traditional clothing, and everyone from N’Gono’s village found it especially impressive and provocative that he was taking a wife from among the whites, away from her white husband. As the doctor had intended, it increased N’Gono’s standing within his clan immeasurably, and made recruitment into the church far more efficient.
A Dinka wedding, particularly one incorporating a captured woman from another tribe was full of traditions going back hundreds of years, with much symbolism. The ceremony took place outside the church, but though the doctor did give a message encouraging his fellow African men to claim white women, the actual wedding was to be conducted by the shamaness.
N’Gono and his party were on hand for several hours before the ritual, greeting guests and sharing food and libation. The only whites present were the women of the church, dressed in their kangas and bare breasted, who kept shyly in the background. By mid afternoon it was time for the ceremony to begin.
N’Gono stood before Al-wani, looking noble and dashing in his regalia. He wore a traditional leopard-skin shoulder wrap, with a loincloth of fine linen. Trinkets of real gold hung about his neck, and at his side were an ivory scabbard and dagger. His upper body was oiled and his muscles rippled beneath his ebony skin. He was the image of an African man- a Dinka prince.
A clanking of chains was heard as one of the church elders led two whites forward to the witchdoctor’s presence. One was a lovely young woman, dressed only in a new kanga wrapped about her waist. Her skin had been oiled so that her flesh gleamed in the sunlight. The other was a male- a naked, wretched creature, beaten and stooped, and looking around fearfully at the many black faces surrounding them both.
The doctor owned slave chains and harnesses dating back to the time when the slave trade was the Sudan’s main form of wealth. These were to be part of the trappings of the ceremony. Rick and Evelyn were coffled together, just as captured slaves.
They were released from their shackles, and the young white man was dragged roughly before the doctor.
Evelyn had been told what was about to happen. Rick was to be ritually beaten. It was considered to be a mere formality, but at weddings such this, the former husband was to be afforded the traditional conflict. It was Rick’s last chance to keep his wife, though in reality, he had already lost her. He was terribly afraid, and hoped only that by groveling abjectly before N’Gono, he might escape serious injury.
Evelyn watched him carefully, curious as to how he would react. He swallowed hard, and Evelyn could see the fear in his eyes. He looked away from her and she sensed his shame. There was still a spark of pride about him and Evelyn knew he still loved her. But did he have the courage to resist the black giant who now claimed her? Would he try at the last, at the risk of his own body, to keep her?
N’Gono came to stand beside him as the doctor made a short speech in some African dialect. The shamaness pronounced a blessing on N’Gono, and both he and Rick were given blunt clubs of polished ebony, traditional Dinka weapons. Then the two men squared off before the entire assemblage.
From the start it was an unequal battle. Evelyn knew that N’Gono harbored no hatred for Rick, and that the blows he was inflicting were primarily for show and ceremony. But they were real. Rick tried to fight back at first, but he had virtually no chance. N’Gono was much larger than he was and his African physic was vastly more formidable. The Dinka man was experienced in hand to hand conflict, while Rick had never won a fight in his life.
Soon Rick had given up any pretext to fighting and had collapsed into a ball, simply covering his head. He was crying, his pleas for mercy becoming ever more plaintive and pathetic. But N’Gono did not relent. He landed savage punches that slammed into the now unresisting white male’s body. Evelyn heard the painful gasps and groans as each blow fell, followed by abject entreaties from the naked white man- white boy, as Evelyn now thought of him. For several minutes N’Gono methodically thrashed Evelyn’s former mate.
Evelyn was surprised at the sense of pride she felt at Rick’s beating. A small part of her was sorry for his suffering and humiliation, but she was N’Gono’s woman now. Her African man was powerful and knew how to keep her and protect her. It brought a thrill to her spine and a heat to her loins.
Finally, N’Gono ceased to pound the hapless Rick with the club. The symbolism then changed from one man confronting another, to a victor demonstrating his dominance. From a contest of wills, to a master, punishing an errant slave. Rick no longer merited punishment from an African warrior’s weapon. Now he would receive the whip, like the subjugate beast he was.
Evelyn watched with bated breath as N’Gono slowly uncoiled the feared leather whip made from the hide of the water buffalo, and used for millennia to punish slaves.
“Please…” the white boy whined, looking frantically about at the many black faces surrounding him. “Please, I did like you said. I divorced her! I give her to you! Please let me go…”
“The white man took black woman as slaves. He stole the black daughters of Africa from their fathers and husbands.” boomed the voice of Kamwego. “Watch now. You are powerful, my children. My church has given the white man into your hands. See now how he is to treated!”
Then N’Gono began. The first lash brought a scream from Rick. The second, a shriek of panic and desperation. He bolted, trying to make a run for it. But N’Gono bore down on him and brought him to ground. He seized the white boy by the neck, as he had many times with Evelyn, and pulled him back to the slave harness that lay in the dust. He replaced the collar back on Rick’s neck while the frightened boy whimpered and cried, then he resumed the punishment with a vengeance, striking relentlessly at the naked white body groveling at his feet.
“AAAGGHHHHH…” pleaded Rick. “Please… Oh god! AAAAAGGGHHHHHH… Please take her… AAAAAHHHHHHHHAAAAA! They said you wouldn’t hurt me if I gave her to you! AAAAAGGGGGGGGGHHHHHH… Please take her, she’s yours!”
N’Gono continued to whip Evelyn’s already beaten former husband as the rest of the assembly looked on. There was no expression on his face; no anger or exertion, simply the determination to perform the ritual of symbolically and literally taking the white man’s bride.
Again, Evelyn watched with mixed emotion but general approval. She did not so much want to see Rick suffer, as she wanted N’Gono to feel legitimized and empowered. This ancient ceremony would do that, and Rick would simply have to endure it, just as she had endure the past months in the futile hope that Rick would come for her. She had been his wife, and he had not protected her.
At length, the white boy had been reduced to a twitching, cringing, chastened, slave, afraid to lift his head for fear of angering the giant black man. As he lay still, face down and moaning, N’Gono raised his fist in triumph to the shouts of everyone present.
Attention now passed to the wedding ceremony proper. A broom was placed on the ground in front of Dr. Kamwego, and Evelyn was led to the witch woman and N’Gono’s side. She knelt before them and bowed her head reverently, recognizing the solemnity of the ritual. Al-wani then grasped a handful of her braided hair.
“This white woman yours,” she said to N’Gono. She bring much pleasure to your bed, bear many sons for the Dinka, and work in your household. You accept this woman?”
“Yes,” replied N’Gono.
“Jump de broom,” said the shamaness.
The old woman pulled Evelyn’s hair back to scowl into her face. She showed Evelyn a small anklet of colored glass beads. “This you wedding band, bind you to N’Gono, you Dinka master. White man put it on you. Last time he touch you.”
Rick had been compelled to crawl to them. Still on his knees he took the band from the shamaness and placed it around Evelyn’s left ankle. Then he crawled away, hoping the ordeal was over.
Evelyn looked up at N’Gono, her eyes shinning with love. She was crying with joy. This strong black man loved her and she was about to become his wife. Even as a minor wife she felt so fortunate.
“This man you master,” said the shamaness. “You his woman. Forget all you old tribe and clan. You Dinka now. You soul Dinka. You womb Dinka. Jump de broom.”
Rick looked up now. He watched as N’Gono placed his hand under Evelyn’s chin and lifted her to her feet. He took her in hand and together they jumped over broom than lay in the dry African dust. The crowd roared with approval as he wrapped the heavy steel chain around her neck symbolically and led her away.
The young white boy cried and turned away in shame and humiliation. The woman he loved was now the wife of another man.



Chapter 18

N’Gono swaggered triumphantly to his home, greeting his black African peers with aplomb and accepting their congratulations on the acquisition of his latest wife. Evelyn, as befitted an African bride, followed several steps behind, barefoot, bare-breasted and demonstrating a reserved humility. Inside however, she was elated. She was married now! To a dominant male who would cherish and protect her. She felt, for the first time since coming to Africa, that she was safe and secure, and in her proper place. She was home.
“I’m married!” she whispered over and over to herself with relish. “I’m Evelyn, wife of N’Gono! I’m married to a real African man!”
Behind them ran Rick, naked and bruised, driven forward by three small mulatto boys bearing whips who playfully herded him this way and that. They generally tended toward N’Gono’s house, but enjoyed showing off their charge over the “white beast.” Rick was so cowed by the beatings and threats of N’Gono and the other black men at the wedding, that he made no resistance, daring only to try and shield his buttocks from their relentless lashes and beg for mercy from the laughing children.
Arriving at his house, N’Gono grasped a handful of the cringing white boy’s hair and dragged him into the bedroom, where he was secured to the floor, kneeling in a dark corner. N’Gono wrapped the heavy chain about his neck and pointed his finger at him, as if chiding an errant child.
“You watch N’Gono take his new wife,” ordered the big black man. It was the final act of wife capture, to be completed in accordance with Dinka tradition. When possible the consummation of the marriage must take place before the woman’s ex-husband, shaming him and removing all doubts of the female as to whose woman she now was.
“You not make sound. You not move,” said N’Gono, reaching down between Rick’s legs and grasped the white boy’s genitals. “N’Gono geld you like done to slave in old days!” he warned, pulling on the testicles. “Feed these to dogs. You catch?”
Rick’s eyes widened, knowing the black man was both physically and temperamentally capable of castrating him.
“Ye… yes…” Rick gulped. “I won’t do anything.”
N’Gono was seemingly satisfied and left the bedroom.
Near the front door Evelyn knelt with legs spread and back straight, her breasts thrust forward on display. She was awaiting N’Gono’s permission to rise and following the instructions of Al-wani. Evelyn wanted to behave as the perfect Dinka bride.
He stood before her and smiled down at her kindly, placing his large, black palm under her chin. “Come now,” he said simply, and headed to the bedroom.
Evelyn scrambled to her feet, eagerly padding behind him, excited as a young girl-child and feeling a sharp tingle of anticipation between her legs. ”I’m married,” she kept whispering to herself. “My new husband is going to make love… No,” she thought, “My new Dinka husband is going to ‘fuck me’! Captured white wives are fucked, not ‘made love to.’”
She followed him into the room, scarcely noting the naked, servile Rick in the corner, near the foot of the bed.
N’Gono took Evelyn in his arms and they shared the first kiss of their nuptials, a lengthy tongue entwining affair that left her breathless. N’Gono glided his black hands over the skin of her nude back, pulling his petite white bride forcefully to his chest. He moved them lower, and kneaded the pale flesh of her buttocks like dough. After long communal moments, the black man turned and sat on the bed. He was smiling with confidence and glancing at the kneeling Rick, who looked on despite himself, with rapt and morbid interest.
Before her new husband, Evelyn removed her kanga and knelt again to bare the desires of her heart. She wished to be a wife of simple devotion to him, and she pledged her obedience henceforth, and forever.
Clasping her hands before her in the manner of a suppliant, she spoke with breathy soft voice and lowered eyes. A feeling of absolute peace came upon her. Nothing existed at that moment but N’Gono, and the joy of belonging and submission to him.
She pulled the boots from his feet, pausing unbidden to kiss each of them in an act of personal devotion.
“My master, my husband… Please, N’Gono, my love… Show me your ways and the ways of your people,” she said clearly, but with every measure of her femininity. “Teach me your language, your customs, your religion. Make me a woman of the Dinka in every way. Start now by filling me with a Dinka son!”
N’Gono smiled, and placed his bare foot between her legs. He rubbed his big toe against the apex of her sex, and the little gold ball over her clitoral hood was pressed into her pleasure bud. She gasped, and was instantly aroused to an even higher pitch. It was a small act of male condescension, but one very typical of an African man with his new wife.
They rose and Evelyn finished undressing her new husband. For the first time, Rick saw the size of N’Gono’s manhood, and a devastating feeling of innate inferiority struck him. This man’s organ was more than twice the size of his own, in every dimension. He had been fucking Evelyn for months. Any illusion or expectation Rick might have harbored of getting her back someday crumbled to dust. N’Gono was in all ways, a bigger, better man.
The two lovers kissed again, and Rick could sense the genuine affection the couple had for one another. Though in his mind, he knew that he had lost his wife, in his heart, Rick could still not quite accept it. He kept waiting subconsciously for Evelyn to push the black man away with disgust, and declare her loyalty to her old husband. She was a well-brought up Christian girl. Even now, would she not feel something for the husband of her own race and faith? But the young woman’s expression held nothing but love and regard for her new man, and it struck Rick that she no longer shared their faith, or the desire for any white man.
Now the consummation of their vows was at hand. The new husband and wife were primed for each other, and without further preamble or foreplay the bride lay back on the bed, breathing evenly and gradually spreading her legs. There was an oddly languid urgency about her. She had all night to savor N’Gono’s love, yet she needed to unite with him in flesh as she had in matrimony. She needed it so badly.
As Rick watched in silent horror, the huge African moved to mount her, and she received him with slow but eager greed. With her small, white hands she guided the massive black shaft to her sex, gasping with pleased anticipation as he gently but firmly lowered his hips, thrusting it gradually into her core.
“UUUUNNgggghhhhhhhh, yes… Oh, N’Gono, my love!” sighed Evelyn.
From his vantage, Rick could see the purple head of his penis disappear into her folds, the massive black cock seemed to stiffen and grow, even as it filled her, stretching her dark red neither lips around its girth. As he bottomed out, his dark balls lay draped on her anus. Heavily laden with seed, they seemed to undulate with life, hanging over Evelyn’s helpless belly. Soon their contents would be released, to flow with obscene purpose into her fecund womb.
“UUUnnnggghhhhhh,” grunted Evelyn, embracing her lover’s back with her arms and legs. In was such a beautiful moment, and she felt as if she had never really been married before, and that this was her first and only wedding night. Her relationship with Rick seemed so distant and so trite; her life was truly beginning here and now- in this African prince’s bed.
“Ohhhh! UUUUnnnnhhhhh…” cried Evelyn as N’Gono withdrew himself slowly. And then, “UUUgggghhhh, uuuhhhhh… soooo biiiig,” as he pushed himself back in. Though he had been taking her for months this moment was special. Now they were copulating for the first time as man and wife.
But she always felt stuffed at his initial entry. No matter how much she had been stretched he was still huge, still glorious. “AAAHHHHUUUUMMMM,” she cooed at the next insistent entry, and tightened her grasp on his body.
N’Gono pushed in again, and the black shaft descended, now slick with their mingled secretions and glittering in the soft light of the bedroom. It vanished once more, slowly sinking into her belly to bottom out again in her depths.
“UUUUNNNGGGG… soooo deeeeep… grunted Evelyn with earthy urgency. She could feel his glans fitting against the cervical cup of her uterus, a place even he had not touched before. Evelyn knew that his manhood was larger this moment than she had ever known. His excitement was as high as hers. He withdrew again to begin a rhythm, thrusting very methodically but ardently.
“Unnnggghhhh, white woman,” he breathed. “Take you Dinka man.”
“Yes, N’Gono… yeeeesssss,” she replied. As they began the ancient dance in earnest. In and out, in and out, with measured slowness at first, then building with intensity.
From his place, kneeling silently at the foot of the marriage bed, Rick could hear and watch Evelyn’s ultimate and final surrender to her African man. The profane, grinding spectacle of their union continued to gain energy as the Dinka man commenced to rut for real. Evelyn sighed, and wriggled, and kissed. Wanting to wallow in her bliss. She saw herself as a white virgin, given to a powerful, passionate warrior. A young Caucasian girl, being admitted to the secret chamber of African sexuality.
Rick bit his tongue. He could see the massive, glistening black cock reciprocated in and out of Evelyn’s ravaged white cunt, straining taut her vaginal lips. He remembered bitterly how he had enjoyed his wife’s virginal tightness. Even around his small organ she had felt so snug. Now he knew she had been stretched forever to accommodate her black man.
They continued on and on, heedless to time and space. The mating seemed an eternal thing, driven by N’Gono’s masterful strokes. It was the only event in the universe, their fulfillment, its only purpose. Evelyn’s voice was alive with girlish, half-audible whispers and plaintive gasps of joyful discovery. The bedsprings squeaked, keeping time with the flexing of his ebony back, and the spasmodic motions of Evelyn’s bare feet as they waved, suspended over his pumping buttocks. As never before, Rick’s heart ached with the realization of how truly lovely she was. Even from this angle he marveled at the trim lines of her legs and ankles, her shapely gams, the delicate pink soles of her feet. As N’Gono worked, her soft heels caressed the ruddy skin of his black ass, seeming to parody the gentle rubbing of their hands.
Rick had not seen Evelyn with another man, and though he knew she had been intimate with N’Gono and the other black men of the church for several months, he had never really been able to conceptualize his conservative and chaste wife with one of them. He had steeled himself to witness her ravishment by an African, knowing he could do nothing to stop it; but he had not expected her to respond with enthusiasm and affection- with love.
Now seeing her with this brute of a man, performing with just as much raw sexual need, his mind went numb with impotent rage and humiliation. The difference in their body sizes was compelling, Evelyn at 5’4”, looked so small and helpless, almost crushed beneath his heroic frame. The contrasting color of their skins and the meter of their intercourse became almost hypnotic; a synergy of horror and startling beauty before Rick’s tortured gaze. He was witnessing sex the way it was meant to be, between a superior human male and a submissive female. And he cried, for he knew he would never have this woman again, and could never feel the depth of their love- with a mere four inches of manhood.
“AAAhhh, haaaa, baby… aahhh, N’Gono… yes, take me, darling. Sooo gooood!” Somehow Evelyn knew. She would be impregnated that night. Here in this bed, in this very moment she would conceive the baby that her foolish loyalty to Rick had denied. She would atone for her sins, and be given a life to cherish.
“UUUUGGG,” grunted N’Gono again holding her tight now and pounding her with ever increasing intensity. His thick shaft gored her with its full length, and he could feel the clinging need in her stretched labia. Evelyn hung on, her mind swirling with delight, staccato cries of passion bursting from her throat. Each deep thrust brought the insistent kiss of his spongy glans to the doorway of her inmost chamber of life, and reminded the new bride of her black husband’s goal, her insemination. It was with infinite joy that she felt the now familiar stiffening of his muscular frame and the suddenly frenzied thrusting of his rut- the telltale precursors of his ejaculation.
“Yessss, yessss, my love…” breathed Evelyn, her voice tremulous with passion. “Fill me… please fill me… Aaaahhhh.”
“AAAGGGHHHH,” shouted N’Gono. His back spasmed and he drove himself onto her with every ounce of his weight, pressing his manhood with brutal force just past the threshold of her cervix and into her fertile womb.
The lovers screamed in unison, climaxing as they held each other in an embrace as strong as life itself. Between their legs, Rick saw N’Gono’s black balls pulse and throb, and his scrotum tense with impending release. Evelyn’s vaginal lips tighten about his shaft. And he heard the woman he still loved beg.
“UUUUGGGGHHHH YES! NOW!” She panted, wanting both N’Gono and Rick to hear. “FILL ME WITH YOUR BABY! FUCK ME, N’GONO!”
At last, Evelyn felt the first gush of his fecund sperm, flooding like a torrent into her welcoming grotto of motherhood. For an instant, her being was saturated with orgasmic bliss, and the profundity of her new identity. Then she screamed- The craving of her soul. “YESSS… YESSSSS… I can feel it! Your son! Your baby, N’Gono, my love! YEEEESSSSSS… YOOOOUUUUR BAAAAY BEEEEEE!”
She was N’Gono’s forever now.
Rick sensed it too. As the interracial couple on the bed lay in sweating, gasping, post orgasmic exhaustion, he sobbed silently with a soul rending torment of emotions. Jealousy and outrage and overwhelming humiliation coursed through him and his spirit withered. Evelyn belonged to another man now- and she would carry his child.
It seemed like an eternity before N’Gono rose, rolling off Evelyn’s maculated form.
Unbidden, she raised her legs and clamped her vulva closed, in order to keep the full measure of her new husband’s draught in her belly.
N’Gono unchained the desolate white boy who still knelt forlornly at the foot of the bed. Now that Dinka tradition had been satisfied and white beast’s marriage spells to the woman were finally and utterly broken, Rick’s presence was no longer necessary.
Without even speaking to him, N’Gono dragged him outside, to the lone tree where Evelyn had spent the nights of her punishment.
Rick was terrified, weeping and pleading, thinking that N’Gono intended to kill or geld him after all.
“Please, she’s yours,” he cried. “I did what you said. I watched and did nothing while you took her! Please…”
N’Gono did not reply, but kicked Rick’s feet out from under him and locked the heavy chain around his neck. Rick struggled to kneel, but did not resist. He was resigned now, crying softly and waiting for the ritual blow of N’Gono’s dagger that would end his life. But the big Dinka merely checked to make sure he was secured to the grizzled tree trunk. Then he left, and headed back to the house to enjoy the fervent embrace of his new bride.
Naked and alone in the African night, Rick’s imminent fear of death slowly faded. Extreme frustration forced tears to his eyes as he knelt there motionless, cursing his own weakness. He knew that the African intended to fill Evelyn with his essence over and over as long as the night endured. But he was physically and emotionally beaten. Tied as he was there was nothing he could do. Even if he had been free, he knew that if he interfered in any way he would certainly receive a severe beating. Or the big African might make good on his threat to castrate him, or kill him with his bare hands. The craven inside Rick finally won out, and he buried his head in his hands.
He was safe now, and she was no longer his wife. Evelyn had been unfaithful anyway.
In the darkness of the African night, Rick finally took stock of himself. He had been shown what fucking was all about. And deep down he now realized the terrible truth. He never had, and never would elicit those cries of passion from Evelyn, or any other woman. He simply was not man enough, not well endowed enough- not black enough.
But he was male, and he had needs too. He had watched N’Gono claim Evelyn with genuine outrage, but the power of their passion nevertheless had moved him. Dead to all shame or pride Rick moved his hands down to his genitals, folded his fingers loving over the pink little shaft and began to pump it. Immediately, visions of Evelyn writhing under N’Gono’s potent thrusts, filled his mind.
Looking wistfully back to the house, Rick remembered a time when she was his wife, when she had wanted his children. Memories were all he had left now, but it did give pleasure. Real sexual pleasure- and he needed it so badly. He closed his eyes and smiled, picturing Evelyn’s beauty- and imagined himself a big black man, rutting masterfully in her warm, receptive cunt.



Epilogue

After Evelyn’s wedding, Sharon was returned to the doctor’s bed for a time. She realized now the answer to the mystery. Why had the Dr. Kamwego turned her into a whore?
She was a symbol of the white race to him. Her perpetual defilement was the essence of his spiritual journey. He took her violently, several times each day, raping her and having her raped in his presence; slapping and beating her no matter how servile and pliant her responses.
Now the cycle began again. A new white couple arrived in the compound. A young husband with a luscious, willowy blond wife. Sharon was sent back to the brothel with instructions that she was to be well used, but as before, only by men of color.
Sharon had cried. She so wanted to become a mother and the wife of one black man, instead of a rutting slut for thousands. But she knew the truth even then.
As the cycle turned, and the doctor acquired more white women for his church, Sharon returned to the brothel each time. To woo the sons of Africa into the doctor’s religion, her degradation became a sacrament, her body a holy chalice for the semen of countless men. She was the church’s example of the perfect white female. Prostituted to the common black man- the future of all white women.
And at last, whore was what Sharon knew she was. Not that it had been her nature. She had not been born to it, or wanted it. But it was what the doctor had made her into, and it was natural to her now. She was a whore with every fiber of her existence and could never be anything else. Eighteen years old and of surpassing beauty, she had a whole life ahead of her, to be what she had to be- A WHORE!
Dr. Kamwego had won, she thought. He always won- and turned people into what he wanted them to be.

Evelyn’s instincts had been correct. She did indeed conceive on her wedding night. Not knowing this however, she and N’Gono continued their intensive efforts throughout the month. Evelyn rejoiced when she failed to menstruate, but it was not until the following month, and her next missed period that N’Gono finally ceased his three or four times a day mating schedule and cut back to pure enjoyment sex once a night.
Evelyn had dreaded the day when N’Gono would begin sharing her with the other black men. But when it came, and he himself switched the beaded anklet from her left leg to her right, she felt a sense of elation and pride. Now everyone would know she was carrying N’Gono’s baby. And she would be increasing her husband’s standing in the church community.
Evelyn also found that she liked fucking the other men. She reveled in the freedom she had as a Dinka wife, and it didn’t even bother her that N’Gono was sampling her white sisters. It was the way of Africa, and was just part of learning to become African.
In the coming months Evelyn’s belly swelled with the evidence of her submission to N’Gono, and she seemed to glow with happiness. She liked the fact that her breasts were swelling and filling with milk, and her once delicate pink nipples were enlarging into bloated teats and turning dark red. Al-wani told her that the spells and the baby’s black Dinka blood were the cause, and Evelyn’s sex became moist whenever she thought about it. N’Gono’s love was changing her even physically.
When Evelyn gave birth to a healthy, chocolate brown son, it was the proudest moment of her life. And seeing N’Gono holding him, she felt an even greater bond with her husband. She was closer to him than she had ever been to anyone. She was white by birth, but African by choice, Negro by injection. A Dinka mother and wife.

The doctor had kept his word to Rick, having him released to the custody of the church. But Rick’s assumption that he would be allowed to return to America had been in error. He was not allowed to leave the church grounds and was told that any attempt at escape would result in his return to the prison.
He wandered about aimlessly for a while, sleeping on the ground among the landscaping. N’Gono found him a few times and rousted him out. Finally he found a little cave on the lakeshore. It was private and he had a feeling of security, but no means of support. He was soon reduced to begging for scraps of food, and scavenging through trashcans at night.
But then he received an unexpected act of kindness. As N’Gono was now needed full time to take over the church’s work among the Dinka, he offered to allow Rick to take over his job tending the grounds of the compound. The doctor agreed. But Rick would be paid only in food, and had to strictly observe the church’s rules; work hard, obey the black elders, and absolutely no contact with the women, white or black. Rick agreed to the terms.
He was given a simple, tattered cloth to wear around his loins, and became darkly tanned, working in the sun. Being out of the prison and working the African soil did him much good, and he was soon healthier and fitter than anytime in his life.
His one joy was masturbation. He loved to hide among the manicured hedges and thickets, watching the white women as they passed. Sometimes he even saw Evelyn walking with Julie, her belly seeming to protrude more prominently each day.
Often the black men would bring white women down to the shore of the lake. Rick would creep in the shadows, stroking himself while they fucked in the sun. He even saw Evelyn there at times, walking hand in hand with N’Gono, or sometimes other black men. Down on the beach she would remove her wrap and spread it on the sand. And they would make passionate love under the African sky.
Latter, sleeping on the floor of his little cave he would pretend that it was he who had made love to the girl, and driven her to orgasmic ecstasy. But it was a bitter thing seeing his seed on his hands, or spewed onto the ground after he had gushed himself into an imaginary Evelyn, or Julie, or Deanna, or Vicky.
That was the irony that ate at his soul like acid. If he had not brought Evelyn to Africa, it would be his babies she would be carrying. He would be lying with her each night, instead of N’Gono, and his own sperm would be living, thriving in the warmth of Evelyn’s womb, becoming his child. Instead, it was dying forlornly outside the body of a woman, in the cold dirt of the cave floor.
Rick knew what the African men were enjoying every night, and longed to feel the flesh of a woman’s body. He imagined himself taking the white women, raping them in the bushes. Perhaps, he fantasized; they would like it and not report his crime. But fear of the doctor stopped him. The story of Julie’s husband was much like his own.
Tom had been imprisoned also, and had undergone the same Dinka rituals involving the taking of his wife. But after his release he had been unable to accept that Julie now belonged to her new black husband. He had tried to rape her, but she had thwarted his advance by running out of the house screaming. Julie’s black husband had not been as kind as N’Gono. He had reported the incident publicly, and the doctor had decided to make an example of the white man in front of his ex-wife, and the entire church. As punishment, he had Tom’s testicles and penis surgically removed, and sent him to a brothel in Khartoum.
Since Rick had heard of this, he had been deathly afraid of sharing the man’s fate. Though he worked in the compound and saw everything that went on, he never tried to approach Evelyn, or any of the other white women. He still burned with jealousy at times; especially when he spied Evelyn being fucked on the beach, or walking on the paths, suckling a black baby openly on her bare breast and cooing tenderly. But as months and then years passed, his psyche seemed to become inured, even content.
Each of Evelyn’s successive pregnancies bothered him less and less. She seemed genuinely happy in her new life, as did the other white woman.
At last, Rick became almost like a voyeuristic phantom, adept at hiding, sneaking, and cumming. As the doctor brought in new white couples, Rick discovered the sadistic and masochistic joy of watching while each new white wife was taken from a white husband, and forcibly joined to an African man. The church grew, as did the white women’s bellies. The progression was similar, and the result was always the same. The white woman submitted to the black man, the white man disappeared. Rick saw and enjoyed it all.
In the end, Rick accepted and embraced his fate as completely as the white women accepted theirs. Such was the bittersweet destiny of the racially inferior male.

End

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