The drums began to decrease in fervour, dwindling down while the two black bodies coiled in momentary exhaustion and then recovery.
Miraculously, there seemed to have been no break in the balletic movement. It was as if the whole thing had finished as it had begun-as part of a carefully designed, erotic act.
The drums has faded to a very quiet beating and into the foreground came some sort of pipe which wailed an unearthly dirge over the scene.
His organ deflated, but still large, the negro withdrew from the woman's body and snaked to his feet, drawing her up after him by some mental power. Their hips snaked and swayed again in a gentle motion of recovering strength, The man's face was a picture of satisfaction and satiation, the woman's of intense shame and misery.
When finally, with a mocking laugh, he made a motion which seemed to release her from his power, she ran, buttocks cringing sinsuously, the outer sign of the shame she carried in her loins, from the circle of light, Her seducer, eyes alight with laughter, circled and snaked in a pleasure of ecstasy, reveling in his power, and beating a staccato path of triumph with his bare feet, to the clack-clack time of a half-oriental-half-spanish rhythm, then he, too, disappeared into the darkness.
The audience sat spell-bound, caught in a choking desire. I caught glimpses of movements. Couples, I realized, were gliding off into the curtained alcoves, their loins bursting with more than they could contain.
Gene's eyes were upon me, but I turned to de Chauvreland.
"My god, that was magnificent." I said.
He smiled with pleasure at the success of his act.
"Yes," he said suavely. "That's a new one. Nobody had seen that before. These two are members of a company of dancers. It's amazing to me the way they find such energy to see it through to the end. But these Africans are amazing."
My host leaned over to me, speaking softly close to my ear.
"By the way, if you wish to disappear now do not think you will offend my hospitality. Such is the nature of my hospitality. You can see it is usual."
"The spectacle is too magnificent for an immediate retreat," I grinned. "It's having a disastrous effect upon my system, but if there's more to come I must see it."
De Chauvreland was obviously very pleased at my spontaneous praise for his ingenuity in presenting entertainment. He put his hand on my shoulder and I remembered the warning of his sexual aberration.
"I'm glad you're enjoying it," he said. "Sometimes I wonder if I'm maintaining the standard. It's not always easy. There's one more item, partly amateur if we have a brave spirit left in the audience."
Music, softer and more menacing than before, began somewhere in the wings and, superbly athletic, the negro of the previous act stalked back into the light. His body, as I've said, was strongly muscled, his shoulders broad, body and legs long, hips so slim that the size of his penis seemed out of proportion to them. He was smiling and graceful, his loose-limbed body as feline and potentially powerful as a panther, his great middle limb hung limp and thick against his powerful thighs, behind it, his testicles, too, were large. There was an absence of hair.
Beside, me, Louis de Chauvreland swung easily to his feet and strolled into the light, ranging himself beside the negro, as tall, but much narrower, a thin, cultivated twig beside the powerful, savage branch.
He turned in a slow circle peering through the mist of perfumed light into the deeper gloom.
"Ladies and gentlemen," he announced, after a moment. "You saw and I think were impressed by the last item and I now have a proposition to make to the ladies amongst you. For those who would like to try their capacity and reach heights they've probably never attained before-the heights of love which knows no civilised inhibitions, shows no quarter, I offer this magnificent specimen of humanity, here. But, ladies, before you come to try your power, which you must do at this spot before us, I warn you that once started, you must be prepared to accept the rigours of complete submission. If anyone, after taking the challenge, tries to back out she will be forced to continue."
So saying, he returned to his seat beside me and watched for the offer.
There was a hesitation of perhaps two minutes. If anyone was coming, she was half afraid, waiting, half hoping perhaps that someone else would take up the challenge first.
The negro stood in the pool of light, penis still limp, smiling and waiting. There was something impudent about his attitude and I sensed that most of the women in the dark hall were white.
I wondered, secretly, about Gene, but dared not even glance in her direction in case she thought it was a sign of encouragement. I didn't want my future enjoyment rendered less exciting because this savage had enlarged her.
Anyway, any concern I might have had about her was dispeled by a slow movement from the opposite side of the room. Walking slowly out from the shadow came a tall, pale and lovely girl. Dressed in a long black dress, which sheathed her body, clasped at her neck with an amber clasp, she walked slowly as if in a trance. I had the impression that she was half afraid, but could not resist such an opportunity for a fantastic experience, that she was willing, like so many, to risk all for a moment.
De Chauvreland, who had taken it upon himself to keep me informed, leaned over to me with a little gasp of triumph.
"She's resisted everybody since she's been coming here" he whispered. "Something about her boy friend being killed in the war, She said she found some relief watching others, but didn't fancy any relationship herself. I knew she'd break down sooner or later."
"She's lovely," I whispered back, a twinge of regret in my voice, "It's like throwing her into a volcano for sacrifice."
"Let us not be squeamish," de Chauvreland replied, a sharp note in his voice, "This is the moment she's secretly longed for, a moment of degradation and sublimation together. She can't help herself."
"What does she, a white woman, find so fascinating in such savagery?" I whispered. "Savagery, my dear fellow."
"Who is she?" I asked, as the girl, shapely, but so slim she looked likely to snap if the negro touched her, moved slowly towards him, "She's Swedish," he answered. "Many of these Scandinavians are the same. They have no negroes in their part of the world. The black power and strangeness fascinate them."
I relapsed into silence, watching, as the girl, afraid, half embarrassed, but magnetised-almost the real-life sequel of the act-walked towards the negro, proud and smiling, his penis half erect and moving visibly at the sight of his anticipated partner in the vivid act of the union of black and white at their genitals.
"I almost forgot," de Chauvreland leaned towards me conspiratorially. "He's an artistic fellow, but there's still a lot of his country in him. This will be his first white woman."
This, I must say, gave an edge to the affair, which sent a queer feeling in the pit of my stomach. By background and environment I was so composed that I couldn't help feeling a slight horror at the union of these two. But it was a horror which contained some sort of sadistic pleasure, making my organ tingle.
The negro, moving silently on the balls of his naked feet had reached towards the girl and drawn her skillfully into his arms, where she hung limply as he crushed her to him-an obscene picture, the naked brawny savage, crushing this black-clothed, pale-face morsel of woman flesh offering against his throbbing body.
Somewhere in the darkness, a man, whose feelings had reached a greater pitch of the unfitness of the scene than mine, found his voice in a choking cry.
"No, no. She can't. No. Stop her. Stop!"
There was a momentary buzz of voices, figures moved shadowily towards the man's voice and there was silence again. The girl and the negro had not given any sign of having noticed the interruption.
Watching avidly, I saw her hands, moving shyly, it seemed, slowly over the rippling muscles of his bent-over back, fluttering then in cool, fluid movements, white, pure and slim over the black, the jet black skin, down to his buttocks, feeling them, stroking the iron
, tensed firmness. Her hand explored, seeming to be dragged away from her body, away from the control of her mind, round the front of her body so that he moved sideways from her slightly, still holding her. His penis was as huge, as incredibly huge and fleshily thick as we had seen it before, stretching out and away from him like a great boom.
And her long, slim, virginal looking fingers, which looked as if they should only have caressed a harp, were running timidly and then more boldly, the length of his great rod of hot flesh. She seemed to be feeling its massiveness, marveling at it, and then grasped it at its base, in her hand. Her long, white hand seemed very small at the base of that great ebony shaft. It would have taken four hands or more to have held it.
Slowly, wonderingly, she moved her hand up the shaft towards its great flattened cudgel of a tip, her finger and thumb failing to meet around it. And at the end, at the outlet for his passion, she lingered, tracing long fingernails over the sensitive skin of the great knob.
I strained forward, my body aflame with a shameful fire. I was repelled and yet fascinated. One part of me could have leapt to the rescue of this beautiful princess lost to civilisation; the other urged them on with all my will, feeling that my own liquid was likely to spill without so much as a finger urging it on.
And then I realized that she was trembling. Was it fear? A sudden realisation of what was inevitably to happen? A fear that she couldn't take it? Or was it sheer passion at the sex and ascendancy of this man, so black, huge and unknown to her? Or a mixture of both?
The negro crushed his great lips on her small mouth and her hand began to work at his huge arm of flesh, pulling it slowly and then faster forward and back, sliding the skin on it, kneading it.
Rotating his hips while she masturbated him, turning his thighs out and pushing forward with his hips, the negro began to unzip her dress. She helped him pull it over her head, releasing him for a moment and then resuming with her long, relentless fingers.
Her frilly underwear was black, her flesh white as milk against the black of his. He pushed her back a moment, looking at her, a gleam in his eyes which proclaimed clearly that he was about to have, to dominate, to lie between the legs of a beautiful white woman and lay her body waste. And then he jerked her at him again, his penis standing so high, that it ran up between them, lying vertically against her belly.
His hands, rapid as a practiced European lover's unfastened her brassiere, drawing it away and letting it drop to the floor. They caught the elastic top of her brief knickers and pushed them down, down, over the slim, white hips, the long white thighs, so that they, in turn, dropped to the floor. The woman kicked off her sandals and stepped out of the flimsy garment.
She was so slim. I felt she must be a mannequin. She was elegance in its perfection: tall, small high breasts, long curved body, slim waist, long slim legs from her long curved hips, long slim buttocks, the skin sharply white against her potential possessor's, smooth, firm and lovely. I had difficulty keeping my seat. But that was an illusion. For in spite of the pain at my loins, I was held in the grip of a clamping excitement.
Her mouth hung open, beautiful eyes heavy-lidded as she pressed her face against the negro's neck. He was running his black, huge hands over her,-great black spiders closing over her, her buttocks, turning her, holding her breasts as she sagged back against him, turning her back again, lowering her to the floor. Heavy breathing was clear in the room, panting through the darkness. The room was in a fever heat, The moment had almost come when the woman of the white world surrendered the pulsing treasure between her legs to the great throbbing, rifling rod of the other race.
Great pants of breath were choking from the negro even now and the woman's face was creased in an unyielding passion.
She sank back to the cushioned floor, her long body elegant even at this hot, sexual moment, and the negro lowered himself heavily onto her. His great upper body swamped her slimness; his tapering thin hips were contained in the slim, but greater breadth of hers; his penis lay, still, along her naked belly and her hand came down between them and fondled it.
They remained, panting together, lying pressed in a crush of passion, only their hips moving very slightly, but intensely, waiting on this moment as if daring one half of the world to come and try to drag its own half back to itself.
And then, as the audience tensed-I could feel it, strangely powerful-the woman wriggled her slim legs apart under him and his small hips fell through her thighs.
The negro's eyes gleamed in a great wide gleam which shone in his face and the woman's flesh was trembling, trying not to shrink involuntarily from the test.
She slowly, reluctantly almost, drew up her thighs and under them, between their bodies, I could make out the gulf-how small it seemed!-the flesh bordered gulf into which he was about to plunge. "
The negro drew back his hips, pulling his huge, black rod down from her, lowering it level with her opening. In that moment, she reached down, to guide it or hold it off-it was impossible to say-and that cool touch galvanised the great, black body into action, shot his hips at the junction of her thighs, piercing his enormous flesh into the gulf with force.
The woman's mouth fell open, her teeth caught at her lip and she uttered a low scream. There were other screams from the darkness and sweat was hot on my forehead. Gene had screamed and, for a moment, hid her face in my shoulder, but only for a moment.
Once begun, the negro was ferocious. He had white flesh at his command and he was the master. But she could take little of him at a time and then only in obvious desireful pain.
We watched, mouths dry, his rod, its great diameter expanded even more than before, working its way into her, decreasing the length of it that we could see joining his hips to her crevice. He was unable to thrust straight in more than a few inches and we watched, trousers tight, as he worked it slowly and strongly from this angle and that, bursting farther in the tiniest measures. Her split spread farther and farther to receive him while she writhed her hips-in an effort to get away from the pain, it seemed at times.
As the negro's passion mounted and choking cries came, like the cries of an ape, from his stomach, through his chest and up through his throat, contorting his thick lips, the woman began to cry out. Tears came involuntarily from her eyes and she tried to pull away from his weight.
"No! You must stop! You're hurting me! You'll kill me!" she moaned. Her face was frightened and contorted with pain as the negro bore down on her more heavily still, filling her body, centimetre by centimetre, unyielding.
"Oh! Oh! Oh! Stop! Oh, please! Stop him!"
Her eyes rolled to the yellow impassioned faces on the edge of the darkened crowd, while the negro forced her back, crushing his lips on hers, moving wetly and thickly into her stretching, enlarging, painful passage.
There was a movement in the crowd. Two men moved towards the writhing couple, eyes wide with horror as if they, fiends for sex, had nonetheless had too much.
But as they reached for the negro, oblivious to their presence, mounted on this white body, several men in some sort of oriental uniform sprang at them, dragging them back from the light in a quick, brief struggle.
The woman, prostrate, crushed in her slimness, almost through the floor, began to struggle hard, crying, weeping.
"I can't! I can't! Get him off! Get him off!" she squealed, pleading, begging. Nobody moved after that.
The negro's tree of a penis had almost disappeared in the woman now and was shagging in slowly and thickly, splitting into what must have been a very sore channel. A little blood appeared suddenly on the woman's thigh.
I started at it, uncertain. And then the woman was screaming, clawing at the negro's back, drawing blood from his black skin in broken weals.
At this, one of the uniformed men sprang into the little illuminated arena and pulled off her arms, pinning them above her head, but the negro thrust him away with a violent movement and pinned the arms to the girl's sides himself.
She was weeping with the pain of it and I wondered if he would do her some injury. It was difficult to understand where all that length had gone. But he was lost in his own sweeping, elemental passion and now jerked violently and yet more violently in to her. I doubted whether he was aware of the woman's weeping.
A little more blood trickled down her thigh and she seemed to be suffocating as his great flesh came into view for a moment and then pulsed into her white body like a great bird of prey, dilating, distending the pinker fringe of colour between her widespread legs.
His hands had moved up to her shoulders and great red marks glowed in her white flesh as his grip tightened and relaxed over her. He leaned his torso up from her so that the whole of his body from shoulders to knees formed a right angle with his penis and then he reached under her, holding her slim white bottom, drawing her hips up off the floor as he thrust.
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