Enslaved in Africa

by Ian Smith

  “Dream on, baby,” Saunders smirked. He gestured to his two followers. “You guys go first: warm ‘em up for me.” They moved forwards, unbridled lust on their faces.

  Carrie stood her ground. “This is outrageous!” she shouted.

  Three of the men grabbed her, wrestled her down to the ground. Despite her futile struggles, she was turned onto her front and the tiny bikini pants pulled down. Penny watched, hypnotised, saw the tiny area of untanned flesh appear, stark white in contrast to Carrie’s otherwise well tanned rear. Carrie’s normally flawless bottom was already well decorated with a series of red welts running across it. It looked as if she was about to get some more to go with them. Norris produced his riding crop once more and handed it to the sailor who had chosen Carrie. “Would you like the honours?” he asked with a smile. Wordlessly, the other man accepted the crop, measured his stroke and brought it down. Penny flinched from the very sound of the leather swishing through the air and jumped at the sharp crack as it embedded itself into her friend’s cheeks. As he brought it away, Penny saw a thin white line where it had been and watched the line turn rapidly red as the blood rushed back in under the lovely skin. She was also only too well aware of Carrie’s scream of pain. The blonde had redoubled her struggles, but she was held very firmly, the weight of several men forcing her down into the sand.

  But even as the crop was being raised for another stroke, Penny’s attention was snatched away. The third sailor was moving menacingly near to her, accompanied by Norris once more. “I think you’ll find this one a bit more co-operative,” the educated man said. To Penny, he added, “You’re not going to give us any trouble, are you?”

  Penny could hear in the background - oh, God, how she could hear - the crop slicing again into Carrie’s already battered behind, the girl’s yells of pain now being mixed with babbling pleas for mercy. There was only one reply Penny could make. “N-no,” she managed to stutter, and added as an afterthought in a hoarse whisper, “s-sir.”

  “That’s more like it,” the leader of the slavers said, but then to the sailor he added: “still, this is the first time we’ve used her, so she’s likely to be a bit skittish.”

  Penny stood trembling as he knelt down and unlocked her fetters. She could feel the unyielding metal fall away from her ankles and realised with a shock that he had unlocked her simply so that she could open her legs wide. She wanted desperately to be some place else; but it was real, she was here. She stared at the sailor, who stared back, grinning. He was a big brute of a man, with several days’ growth of beard and tattoos on his well-muscled arms.

  “Well, don’t get stand there, girl,” her captor said. “Get those shorts off!”

  Oh God, it was really going to happen. She looked pleadingly at the two men, but there was no hope of reprieve. Shaking even more, her hands fumbled with the catch on her cut-off jeans and somehow undid it. She pushed them over her hips and allowed them to fall to around her ankles, exposing her tiny frilly panties and hesitated. After all, he had said only her shorts ...

  “Get on with it, girl!”

  There was no way to misconstrue his meaning. Penny dug her thumbs into the elasticated waistband and pushed her panties down. Firm though they were, she felt her bare boobs swaying as she bent over to lower the knickers and, unwilling to let the men see her melons dance, straightened up and allowed gravity to take her last garments down to join her shorts around her ankles, then stepped shakily out of both of them. Her hands twitched by her sides as she fought the instinctive reaction to cover herself, a reaction she was sure she would be punished for.

  Her face went red as the two men stared at her pubic triangle. Although she’d let the two or three upper class boys she’d had sex with to see her topless, Penny had never revealed her delta before, always getting under the sheets of the bed before slipping her knickers off. She was never quite sure of her opinion regarding her pubic hair. Her first reaction was to consider all body hair to be equally unwomanly and she had several times considered shaving herself, but had never quite worked up the courage to do it. Also, more than once in bed one of the boys had put his hand there; the sensation had been very nice, but she worried that some boy would do that again and find that she was shaven, which seemed to her to be a rather wanton, almost sluttish condition. Instead, therefore, she had contented herself with trimming her triangle into a neat and fairly narrow vee. Now that vee stood revealed, shaming her beyond measure. Worse still she felt so vulnerable and unprotected without her shorts and undies, feeling the warm sea breeze caress her right between her legs and she knew that momentarily that vulnerability would be cruelly exploited.

  The sailor grunted and pulled his trousers down, not bothering to take off his vest. The boxer shorts came with them to reveal his already swollen member. A gasp of fright escaped Penny’s already slack lips: he looked so big! Surely, surely this was just a dream, a terrible nightmare ...

  “Lie down on yer back and spread yer legs,” he commanded gruffly.

  No, this was reality. Penny looked around towards Carrie for a moment, hoping for guidance, forgetting that Carrie was also being assaulted. She saw her friend on the ground, violently pinned down by two men whilst a third was already ramming into her. She couldn’t see much of the blonde, obscured as she was by the bulk of the man on top of her: but Penny could see the shapely, tanned legs sticking up in the air, one each side of the sailor and she could see the soles of Carrie’s feet, covered with dust from their long barefoot trek. One of the men was slapping her as she moaned and cried in pain. There was to be no help from that quarter.

  Penny slowly sat down, then lay down on the hot, velvety soft sand. Her bottom was considerably less painful than it had been hours ago, but sitting down on it still reminded her of the welts she bore. However, right now she had worse things on her mind. She was going to be raped! This whole thing was an unbelievable nightmare. The man was standing right over her, so close! Taking a deep sob-punctuated breath, she forced her long, elegant legs apart and averted her face.

  He lay down on top of her. She could smell the beer on his breath, the sweat on his body. She bit back a cry of anguish as she felt his coarse fingers at her gateway, pushing past the thin covering of curly brunette hair until they stroked the sensitive lips. The effect was electrifying and she felt her nub swelling, her nipples hardening despite herself. Her fear and revulsion had somehow acted as a powerful aphrodisiac. For God’s sake, she thought to herself, do it, get it over with, before she lost all control of herself. Then she stiffened as she felt his fingers move away, to be replaced with his ... thing; and without further ado he was pushing it in, brutally, mercilessly, deep within her ...

  He began to thrust, his violence a thousand miles away from the gentle, almost effeminate boys she had previously known. She wasn’t that experienced, three different boys, maybe a half dozen couplings in all, but always boys of her own age and social class, not a brute of a man like this. She writhed, impaled, as his thrusts became even more violent, bruising her, making her gasp. The edge of the head of his penis caused her to tremble as she felt it pushing past her sensitive folds. She could feel him swelling even more, until she thought she would burst, he was so big; and all the time, as the seconds crawled into minutes, his thrusts were going deeper and harder, as his big rough hands mauled her soft body. Oh no, no ...

  Then she felt him come, felt a thick jet of cum spurting even deeper inside her. Wave after wave of his vile seed crashed against her inner walls, driving home to her the terrible mismatch of a rough, vulgar sailor and a refined, cultured young lady. It couldn’t be happening, but it was!

  As he subsided, his thrusts fading now, she lay there, head averted, lost in shame. The enormity of what had just happened washed over her, causing a fresh bout of shudders. She had been raped! She lay in the sand, sobbing, unwilling to move and certainly unable to look her ravisher in the face. Even the relief a
s she felt him withdraw from her did not match the awful reflection of what had just happened. She was aware, for which she was grateful beyond words, that the third sailor had opted to taste Carrie rather than herself. Perhaps Carrie’s imperious behaviour on the boat and uncontrolled outrage since then had attracted him to her, or maybe he just preferred blondes. It must be nice to have the choice.

  Leaving her lying in the sand, the sailor pulled his clothes back on, muttered contentedly “bit of all right” to the other man and went to watch his boss screwing Carrie. Norris regarded the distressed Penny for a moment, looking almost sympathetic and then tossed her shorts and knickers over to her. “Here,” he said; “You were a good girl and didn’t make a fuss, so you can have these back.”

  Silently, Penny pulled them back on, her mind in a whirl. She certainly had been disgustingly co-operative, hadn’t put up the fight she knew she ought to have done, but only someone who has not felt the crop or cane against her behind would blame her for that. Yet she had also, without doubt, responded to the brutal treatment she had been given. She wasn’t actually sure if she had orgasmed or not, the whole experience was a nightmarish blur, but if not then she had certainly been very close. She wondered if all rape victims had the same experience. Talking of other victims, from somewhere nearby came the sounds of a man grunting with pleasure, and Carrie whimpering. Penny didn’t want to look. Still, the urge to ask the question uppermost in her mind overcame her. In a timid voice battered by her shame, she asked him, “that ... won’t happen again, will it?”

  “Oh yes,” he said casually, the answer she had dreaded but had known deep down was coming. “Get used to it.”

  “You - you can’t be serious about ... about selling us!”

  He smiled. “Nothing personal, but business is business. Now, give me your wrists.”

  There was no point in refusing. Penny felt the cold steel close around her wrists once more as the handcuffs went back on. Moments later, her ankles were also fettered once more. Moments later, when Saunders had finished with Carrie, she was also chained once more. When she tried to retrieve her bikini pants, however, Norris’ men, laughing, stood between her and her knickers and prevented her from reaching them. She was left totally nude; clearly Penny was being rewarded for her more co-operative approach.

  Norris then said something to one of the Negroes in a language none of the girls recognised. The man went off to the wagon, whilst his leader turned his attention to the sailors’ leader. The two of them had moved away from the others a little, but Penny could see them counting out money, which exchanged hands in the direction of the sailor. Penny went hot and cold: this was evidently the “commission” on them. Her attention was drawn away, however, by the black man who had returned from the wagon with some strange contraption and he now stood in front of the maid.

  “You lift you dress up,” the man said in broken English.

  The teenage girl went red but did nothing, hesitating. Then she recoiled as he slapped her hard across the face. She fell to the sand, whimpering, but the man holding her rope around her neck pulled her back to her feet.

  “Lift you dress up,” the man repeated with menace.

  The girl straightened up and tried to put a brave face on things. Blushing, she lifted her dress to reveal her white knickers once more. When the man moved closer to her, she tried to retreat, but the other man held her rope collar tight.

  The man fitted the contraption to her. A thin metal band went around her youthful waist. Where the two ends of the band met, he locked them together with a small padlock on her hip. A second band hung from the central back of the band, wide at the top and bottom and hinged at its narrow mid-point, maybe five centimetres in length, in the middle, so it almost looked like two triangles. This he passed between her legs, making her reluctantly open her thighs a bit wider. The triangle met the waist band at its widest point, some ten centimetres wide, and again it was locked to the waistband with a second padlock. The device was now secure in place, over the top of the poor girl’s panties. She was allowed, to her evident relief, to let her dress fall back into place; once it was down, you couldn’t tell that she was wearing the thing underneath.

  It had finally dawned on Penny what the thing was, something she could have used herself just a few minutes earlier. A chastity belt!

  The two leaders had returned. The sailor indicated to his two friends that it was time to depart. The three of them leered at the girls as they prepared to go. “So long, babes,” the leader said; “it’s been fun.”

  Penny hung her head in humiliation, particularly keen to avoid the eyes of the one who had been intimate with her. Carrie, unfortunately, had not learnt her lesson. “Fuck off,” she said venomously to Saunders.

  He grinned at her. “I just did, with your help,” he leered back at her.

  She went red. “You pig,” she hissed.

  The insult bounced off him, but Norris stepped in. “Hold on,” he said sharply. To Carrie, he went on, “you need to learn your new station in life, young lady. You will tell this man that you enjoyed going with him.”

  Carrie bristled. “I will not!”

  He produced the riding crop once more. Carrie shrank back from it, frightened, but she was so preoccupied with it that she didn’t notice the Negro behind her until he gave her a mighty stinging slap on her bare behind. With her hands locked in front of her, she could not defend herself, so she spun half way round. Now Norris struck: with devastating accuracy, he brought the crop down across both of her large, bare breasts. Carrie doubled up, howling with pain.

  Two of the Negroes pulled her to her feet, and the Norris moved right up close to her, his eyes meeting hers. “Do you want some more crop on your tits?” he asked very directly.

  Carrie had taken enough. “No ... please,” she sobbed.

  “Then thank our friend for what he did to you, and tell him you enjoyed it. And make sure we can all hear.”

  “No ... no ... don’t make me do that, please.”

  Norris said nothing, merely raised the crop a little. There was no way out. Carrie stared at the feet of the sailors’ leader, unable to meet his eyes. “Thank you for ... I enjoyed it,” she managed in a croak.

  “My pleasure, babe,” Saunders said airily. “Well, we’re off to our nice new yacht. Enjoy your new lives, girls!”

  They left. Penny hung her head, not wishing to also have to thank her rapist for abusing her, but only when they had gone did she realise that they were now totally at the mercy of the slavers, their last link with European civilisation gone.

  It was awful beyond belief!

  Chapter Five

  Their journey continued for the rest of the day. As far as the girls could tell, they were now moving inland: certainly they hadn’t caught a glimpse of the sea for some time, and the temperature had grown hotter, so that it was now sweltering. That, they knew, was not good news for their already faint hope of rescue: their geography of the continent might be limited, but having cruised from Gibraltar around to the Indian Ocean, they were well aware of how big Africa is and how easy it would be to disappear into it.

  All three girls were now handcuffed to the back of the wagon and had hobble chains on their ankles for good measure, although these were later removed because they were slowing the caravan’s progress too much. Carrie was still naked: her bikini bottoms had been left on the beach, where the shifting sands would soon bury them. Penny still wore her tight cut-off shorts, with tiny knickers beneath them. The maid - Penny tried without success to remember her name - still had her uniform on, by now dusty and drenched with sweat and beneath it she wore that awful chastity belt, evidently to keep her virgo intacta until she was sold. Penny wondered how the thing felt: you couldn’t tell from the girl herself that she was wearing it, except that she now walked with a just slightly different gait, her legs just fractionally wider apart than
they would normally be. How dreadful for her, and yet how much worse for Penny and Carrie, who could at any time be ... well, Penny did not want to think about that. She was still trying to absorb what had happened to her on the beach. She was now a rape victim. She had read of the trauma suffered by women who had been raped, without ever dreaming that she herself might be in that situation: rape, after all, was a lower and middle class phenomenon. But now it had happened to her. Truthfully, she didn’t feel traumatized. It had certainly been a disgusting and unpleasant experience and the thought of those sailors laughing and swapping experiences with their mates about what upper class girls were like made her cringe; and yes, she felt dirty and soiled. However, that was as far as it went. Of course, she had other, pressing concerns on her mind right now. Her mind switched constantly between focusing on current unpleasantness and what was in store for them in the near future, but the icy fear clutching at her heart really came from wondering just when and more to the point if, this nightmare would come to an end.

  None of them had said anything. What was there to say? They had stopped twice for rest and meals, but no conversation had started amongst the girls. After her rape, Penny did not feel like talking to Carrie: she was too embarrassed, not only because she had been raped, but because everybody knew it. Even the fact that Carrie had suffered similarly - worse, in fact, because she had been taken twice - made no difference. Carrie ignored the maid disdainfully and whilst Penny managed to give the girl a very rueful and brief smile once or twice to try to keep her spirits up, she didn’t feel much like talking to her either. For her part, the maid showed no signs of wanting to talk, particularly to Carrie after the way the blonde had treated her for days on the boat.