by Ian Smith
Title Page
THE SLAVES’ INITIATION
By Ian Smith
Kinks Books is an imprint
of W&H Publishing LLP.
Publisher Information
This eBook edition published by Kink Books is an imprint of W&H Publishing LLP, Foresters Hall, 25-27 Westow Street, London, SE19 3RY.
Digital edition converted and published
by Andrews UK Limited 2012
www.andrewsuk.com
Previously published by The Olympia Press
PO Box 148, Ryde, Isle of Wight, PO33 9BE.
Copyright © Ian Smith
The right of Ian Smith to be identified as the Author of this work has been asserted in accordance with the Copyright Designs and Patents Act 1988.
All characters in this publication are fictitious and any resemblance to real persons, living or dead and is purely coincidental.
This eBook is sold subject to the condition that it shall not, by the way of trade or otherwise, be lent, resold, hired out, electronically copied, or otherwise circulated without the publisher’s prior written consent.
Chapter One
This is not what we had in mind when we decided to see Africa, thought Mandy bitterly.
She was riding in the back of a battered and ancient open truck which went over another jarring bump. The chains around her wrists and ankles rattled, as they did with the other dozen captives sat around her. Apart from herself, her sister and her mother, they were all indigenous Africans, some coloured, some coal-black, six females and four males. Two of the males were barely older than children, the females seemed mostly around her own age, as far as she could guess. They all looked pitiful, but right now she and her family didn’t look any better.
Nobody spoke. One of the young male captives had made the mistake of speaking some time ago and the two guards riding with them had slapped him so hard he had fallen to the floor, whereupon they had kicked him a couple of times for good measure. Now he was back in his seat sporting a purple bruise and looking fearfully down at the floor. Nobody else felt like being defiant.
At least the truck’s movement provided a bit of a breeze. It was stiflingly hot: the sky was overcast but that just made it muggy. Mandy’s clothes stuck to her. There was a rank smell of unwashed human bodies and she knew that she, her sister and her mum smelt as bad as the rest of them. It was three days since they had been able to wash, three days since they had been captured and this nightmare had begun.
It was a simple enough tale. Mandy was nineteen, her sister Charleen a bare year younger at eighteen and they lived with their divorced mother Sue, now in her late thirties but still very attractive in a sporty, lively way. They had little money, but this North African safari holiday had been cheap, all corners cut. Despite their closeness as a family, the girls were growing older and this might well be their last chance of a family holiday. In retrospect they should have used one of the recommended guides rather than the one who had approached them in the market, but that was easy to say now; at the time he was offering a much cheaper price. He had driven them out of the town and then stopped at a deserted lay-by, the truck had pulled up and they had been handed over. Protests had been brutally quelled and that was that. Their ‘guide’ had assured their new captors that he had a good friend at the run-down hotel where they had been staying; he would dispose of their possessions and cover the trail. Then he had looked at them, sneered, told them they would soon be warming the beds of men and that was all white trash like them were good for. Mandy’s blood had run cold. Since then, they had been three days on the road, if dirt tracks like this could be called roads, staying clear of major highways and settlements, collecting more captives. At nights they had slept in the truck, the guards and driver taking turns to watch over them. Once a day the truck pulled over and they were allowed, two or three at a time, into the bushes to squat and defecate. Running off was out of the question: the chains around their ankles were so short that they could do little more than hobble.
Mandy didn’t know where they were going, and none of the captives dared ask the hulking guards. One night she had heard just a snatch of conversation between guards and driver; two words had reached her ear, words which had made her even more frightened.
Slave market.
This can’t be happening. It just can’t!
Those same few words echoed around Charleen’s mind again and again. Somehow this just had to be a dream; sooner or later she would wake up in a nice cool bed back home in England.
She knew it wasn’t a dream, that it was an awful, terrible reality, that these evil brutal men were going to sell her to some disgusting, smelly local tribal chief or maybe some hook-nosed, ugly Arab. And then ... Charleen’s mind refused to go any further. She wanted to take refuge once more in the belief that this was just a dream.
She was determined not to cry. Her sister Mandy, sitting silently next to her, was toughing it out in her usual way. Sat facing her on the other side of the truck, their mum looked as if she had all the cares of the world on her shoulders. Charleen, or Charlie as she was often called, was not going to add to her mum’s woes by bursting into tears, however much she felt like doing so.
So far, none of the three of them had been interfered with. That of course meant that they didn’t know that Charlie was still a virgin. Would that make a difference to what they did to her? Grimly she knew that it would not. The irony was that she had fantasised about losing her virginity on this holiday to some handsome local boy in a sand dune somewhere. Nothing was happening back home, she was too shy and withdrawn. Maybe out here something would happen, if that was what she really wanted - she wasn’t sure. But this nightmare was not what she’d had in mind.
This just can’t be happening!
My God, what have we done to deserve this?
Sue despairingly looked across the truck at her two daughters, both of whom were disconsolately staring at the uneven floorboards as the truck bounced along. They were alike in some ways, different in others. Both had fair, light brown hair which they wore to just less than shoulder length. Both were pretty, not glamour-pretty but with the wholesome cuteness of the girl next door - they took after their mother for that and she, at the age of thirty-seven, was still very attractive with a superb slim body and had no shortage of male admirers. However, whereas Mandy was just the right side of well built, curvy without being fat, Charlie was elfin, a good deal shorter than her sister and much smaller, but with an hourglass figure. Both girls had good size breasts, with Charlie’s slightly more obvious on her smaller frame. In the same way, their characters differed, in that Mandy could be gruff and pragmatic, keeping her emotions hidden and in check, whereas Charlie was more open but less practical. Mandy would look at a problem, work out what was needed and get on with it, whilst Charleen would run away from difficult decisions. On the other hand, both girls had very warm hearts and Sue loved them both very dearly. They sparked off each other; Mandy was at the age where she often clashed with her mum as well, but underneath it all three were close.
Right now, of course, neither Mandy’s pragmatism nor Charlie’s propensity to hide made any difference: they were all three completely helpless. Sue could not protect her babies and thoughts of the terrible fates possibly awaiting them tormented her awfully, far more than the heat, thirst, hunger, the flies, the smell, the cruel guards, their dirty bodies or anything else.
The truck finally came to a halt at some small shanty settlement. At least it looked as if it was normally small, but right now a lot of vehicles were parked around, some old and battered, some quite new. Clearly it was a meeting of some sort. The word ‘ma
rket’ came to Mandy’s agitated mind once more.
The captives were ordered off the truck. Mandy’s legs felt stiff and aching after the three-day trip. The males and females were split up and the females herded up against the wall. The next moment Mandy was taken aback as a jet of cold water hit them, washing the worst of the grime from their bodies. For a moment she shielded herself from it as best she could, then let the refreshing liquid play over her and cleanse her. She was almost disappointed when it stopped. They were moved on and the boys and men shunted into their place against the wall for a similar hosing. Mandy and Charleen squeezed the water from their sodden t-shirts and shorts as best they could. To their considerable consternation, they were being lined up, but separate from their mother. Both of them were ready to protest, but a new guard came and stood next to them and scowled at them so malevolently that they shrank in fear. Meanwhile the men had been lined up ahead of them. Mandy saw the first of the men being led off around a corner to where she could hear a crowd chatting and waiting. There was now no doubt that they were about to be sold. She didn’t share this with Charleen, being fearful of making her younger sister panic.
One of the guards from the truck produced a battered plastic comb which had several tines missing. “Tidy yourselves up,” he told the collected group of frightened females in English and then repeated it in a local language.
As Mandy combed the knots out of her hair, the truck guard and the new one consulted and she listened carefully.
“You wanna sell the white sisters together or separately?” the truck guard asked the other.
“Together,” said the other decisively. “We’ll get a better price for the pair. Put them on first of the females: don’t want the punters all holding back from the other women in the hope of landing these two.”
“What about the mother?”
“Put her on last. She’s not bad, she should get a decent price.”
The two men moved off. Mandy sensed her sister at her side. Charleen was shaking with fear. “They can’t do this, they can’t do this,” the younger girl sobbed quietly.
“Shut up!” Mandy hissed in a whisper. “Now listen, there’s only one way out of this. Whoever buys us, we’ve got to convince them to buy mum as well. That means being very co-operative, understand?” She shook her sister’s shoulders. “Do you understand?” she whispered fiercely, as loud as she dared. Charleen nodded dumbly. “I mean REALLY co-operative, get me? Thrust those tits of yours at him.”
Charleen’s blue eyes were wide with horror. “But ...” she began.
“It’s the only thing we can do,” Mandy reinforced her words with anger. “If we don’t talk him into it, we’re probably never going to see mum again.”
“But what if he decides not to, or if we can’t get to him before mum gets sold?” Charleen asked.
Although she was not religious, Mandy had only one answer. “Pray,” she said softly.
The last of the line of boys and men were taken away. A new guard appeared, ready to escort Mandy and Charleen to the market place. He looked at the other new guard, who had returned to the front of the queue.
“You wanna strip these two?” the escort asked, nodding at Mandy and Charleen.
Mandy felt herself go hot and cold. At a whim from their captors, she and Charlie could be sent out to face that crowd stripped to their underwear, or even ...
“Nah,” the other one said. “They’ll do as they are. Let the buyers’ imagination do some work.”
Mandy breathed a sigh of relief. Of course, their wet t-shirts and shorts clung to them, showing their contours pretty clearly. But it could be worse. Also, it brought home to her the reality of what she had just told Charlie. Still, they had no choice, no other chance to stay together as a family.
The escort grabbed each of them, a painful grip around their upper arm, and pulled them forwards. Staggering because of the hobble chains, they moved forwards, terror clutching at their hearts. They were led round the corner, down a short alley and out into a makeshift square. They were ushered up onto a wooden platform some four feet high, where a shifty, rat faced man sneered at them and then turned to face a crowd of hostile, leering, ugly male faces. He began to jabber in some local language, occasionally pointing at Mandy and Charleen. Once or twice the crowd laughed and Mandy preferred not to think what crude comments he was making about them.
As the auctioneer finished, there was a call from a man in the crowd, then another from another man, and another. Mandy realised that they were bidding. Her face went bright red. Next to her, she felt Charlie shaking like a leaf. The bids were coming in thick and fast: clearly white teenage girls were a popular but scarce commodity.
For several long minutes, bids were shouted across the square. Gradually the intensity of the bidding tailed off until just three were bidding against each other, when suddenly a new voice joined in. Mandy instinctively looked in the direction of this latest bidder and saw a local calling out what was evidently a major bid, but standing next to him, clearly instructing him, was a short, dumpy white man in an expensive looking safari suit, flanked by two more large, muscular white men who seemed to be acting as his bodyguards. All three looked English.
The gathering went quiet. Clearly the new bid was a substantial jump in the price and had knocked the stuffing out of most of the contenders. One of them put a hesitant further bid in, but another authoritative bid from the dumpy man’s spokesman put an end to that one too. The auctioneer looked pleased and said something which presumably meant that the bid had been accepted.
The two girls were ushered off the stage and the next female captive pushed up onto it. Mandy realised fleetingly that she had been sold, that as far as these people were concerned she was now a piece of property, but she had other, more urgent things on her mind. “We need to get to that guy, quickly,” she whispered to Charleen.
They were being led in the other direction, but after a moment of pure horror Mandy realised that didn’t matter, because the dumpy man - he reminded her of The Penguin from the Batman film - was heading towards them. A few moments later, one of his bodyguards in tow, he arrived at the pen where they were being held. His local assistant, watched by the other bodyguard, was engaged in conversation with another of the men from the truck, presumably proving they had the money to pay.
“Well, ladies, looks like you’re in quite a fix,” the penguin said.
“You’re English?” Mandy said, taken aback.
An amused look crossed his face. “Scottish,” he corrected her. Had she been less pre-occupied, she would have noticed the accent, but right now it wasn’t important.
“Please,” she begged, “our mother’s going to be auctioned in a few minutes. Please help us! Can you bid for her as well?”
His eyebrows raised slightly. “Your mother is here as well, eh? I wasn’t aware of that. Well, I could do, but I’ve already spent a lot of money on you two.”
“PLEASE!” Mandy almost shouted in desperation. “We’ll do anything! Anything!” She stared at him with wide, wild eyes, and then tried to soften her look into something more beguiling. “Anything!” she repeated.
Again the amused look crossed his face. “Well, by local laws I already own you, so in theory I could make you do anything I like in any case.”
“We’ll accept that willingly. Just buy mum as well,” Mandy said, trying to sound as calm and feminine as she could, not an easy thing in the circumstances.
“Of course, under British law I can’t really own you and I’m headed back home as soon as I finish here,” he pointed out.
“We’ll come with you voluntarily, as your ... whatever you want,” Mandy offered desperately.
“As my property. As my slaves. For a year. No rights, no get-out clauses, no limits. Completely and utterly my slaves,” he finished for her, his voice suddenly firm.
&n
bsp; A light of hope opened before Mandy’s eyes. “Yes, anything,” she repeated.
“No, don’t just jump in, think about it. A year as my slaves, subject to my every whim and those of my friends and associates. Do you understand the implications?”
Mandy took a deep breath, realising he needed to see her being calm and rational. “Yes, completely,” she assured him. “And we’ll do it willingly. You’ll even get a bonus, because my sister’s a virgin.” She felt Charleen flash her an angry look at having her status publicly exposed, but she urgently had to make it clear to this man that she knew what he meant.
“And what is her view on all this?” the penguin asked mildly.
Charleen felt his eyes on her. “I’m with what Mandy said,” she managed.
Mandy glanced anxiously towards the stage. The last of the Negro women before her mother was in the latter stages of her auction: time was short. But she was sure she now had the penguin, as she couldn’t help but think of him, talked into it. The price she and Charlie would have to pay was not something she wanted to think about right now, but it was irrelevant. Nothing mattered except saving their mother.
The penguin beckoned his local man over to him. “The other white woman when she comes up as well please,” he said to the man, who nodded.
Mandy almost fainted with relief.
A little while later, the sisters and their mother were reunited, with much frantic hugging and kissing on both sides. Then, soberly, Mandy explained to her mother what she had had to agree to. Sue listened with concern. “I need to talk to this man,” she said quietly.
“We promised, mum,” said Mandy equally quietly. “And we’re not out of the woods yet by a long way.”
“I know that, dear,” her mother said. “I just need to talk to him.”
They were still chained and cooped up in the pen, but a few minutes later Sue got her chance. The penguin, as Mandy had christened him, came with his two British bodyguards and his local man to collect them. Sue approached him, not as easy thing to do with any assertiveness since she was still wearing ankle and wrist chains. “Excuse me, mister ... I’m sorry, I don’t know your name,” she began as an opener.