Hilary Irvine’s African Odyssey (4/5)

Leaving the cell and the noise of Claire’s rape behind the Negro took Hilary thru the corridors of an old sandstone building. Burning torches lit the way as they ascended several levels. Feeling sick inside, Hilary’s mind was a blur. Wherever she was going she would face brutality. When that was over she’d be flung back in that terrible dungeon and used as a sex machine.

Forcing herself back to rationality Hilary noticed that the whole place seemed deserted…until she realised that all the servants and guards were down below amusing themselves. This realisation lowered Hilary’s spirits still further.

Suddenly her nose could smell perfume and she caught the low giggles of other women, even though she saw no-one. The Negro was silent as he led her to a small room, or rather a cell. He pressed his sexy captive into the stone wall and then, without releasing her, attached her left wrist to a manacle chain that led to the corner of her bunk.

“Why am I here?” she demanded.

Hilary was sick of been abuse, dragged round, fucked like a piece of meat. She was a woman, a civilised woman and demanded respect!

She was alone. The Negro had left after securing the latest fuck-toy in her cell.

The chain allowed Hilary to move around her cell but not to leave it. All there seemed to be was her bunk, a hole in the ground for a toilet and a tap for water. There was no bolt on the door to the cell but, with the chain, there was no need for one.

Left on her own, Hilary found that she was exhausted. Recent days had been too much for her and she curled naked onto the bed, hardly aware of the harsh chain, as she drifted easily off to sleep. Exhaustion brought sleep, nightmares interrupted it. Nightmares where Hilary was immobile, screaming for mercy as an endless succession of men fucked her brains out.

Very little happened the next day until early evening. She remained chained in her cell. Twice the large Negro came in with a tin bowl full of food - rice and vegetables - which he left with her. She supposed that she was meant to drink water from her tap and hoped that the water was clean and safe around here.

Three times young Arab girls appeared at the door of her cell, staring at her and giggling before running lightly away. She tried speaking to them but none of them seemed to understand her English. She saw that they were barefoot, stripped to the waist and only wore a thin, short dancer's skirt. Each girl wore a trinket bracelet that made a tinny sound as the girl moved.

Late on the second day the Negro came to unlock Hilary from the cell and led her out. She noticed that he seemed in a jovial mood. Either he’d just come from a session with poor Claire or he was about to see something entertaining, something involving her.

A little way down a corridor Hilary was pushed thru a door into a room centred on a round bath, sunk into the floor. The bath was full of water, smelling of lavender and jasmine, and seemed deliciously warm. Hilary’s escort motioned her to get in. Stunned at this sudden display of good treatment, Hilary was only too willing to sink into the water and let it slide over her.

Two of the girls who had giggled in the doorway came in and began to wash her down. At first it seemed strange and Hilary wanted to stop them, to tell them that she could manage fine without them, thank you, but their hands persisted and she relaxed, letting it happen.

Warm water, soft hands, soap and soft clothes moved luxuriously over Hilary’s body. When hands ran over her nipples or pressed down between her legs, Hilary did not push them away. In fact she was sorry when they moved briskly away and wished that they would linger some more.

Relaxed and feeling fine, all too soon the bath was over and she was being encouraged to step out. Hilary was led out of the bathroom to another room on which there was a flat table covered in some sort of soft cloth. Another two girls waited here for her. With smiles and hand movements they showed her that she was welcome and invited her to lie down on the table. Seduced by their friendly manner, Hilary pulled herself up onto the table and lay back flat.

Again hands moved over her, but this time they seemed to be full of oil and perfume. She was being rubbed and massaged and stroked in a wonderful sensual blur. The room was full of aromatic scent which lightened Hilary’s mood and made her hot. Her eyes closed, the naked white woman rolled and moved with the pressure of the hands, happy to have her curvaceous body kneaded and squeezed as they worked the perfumed oils into her skin.

Up and down each of her fingers, between her toes, behind her knees, across her belly and in the small of her back the slippery, warm hands worked. Hilary could feel her blood tingling at the nerve ends of her skin all over her body.

She was hardly jarred from this blissful relaxation when the Negro's large hands came down on her shoulders, pressing her firmly down onto the table and holding her still. Lower down the girls each took hold of an ankle and pulled her legs down and apart, tying them to the table legs with some piece of cloth. Lifting her head, Hilary was aware that her most private area now lay open to view.

‘Now it starts,’ she thought grimly, ‘now I’m to be raped.’

Instead small scissors clipped at her public hair, soap was applied and one or other of the girls worked on her with a razor. Somewhere deep inside her Hilary registered that she was being shaved nude down there, but it didn't seem to matter that much. Compared with what she had feared this was blissful.

In a moment it was done and she was being patted dry between her legs with a soft towel. Her ankles were left tied and spread wide across the table though. It seemed as though the girls now concentrated entirely on the few square inches hidden between Hilary’s legs. Working gently but firmly fingers oiled their way round her vulva lips, squeezing and squashing. Someone slid down to oil around and then into her anal opening. A moment later two finger were either side of her clit, stroking it and squeezing and encouraging it with oiled softness. Hilary could feel herself flushing with excitement and was sure that her lips were puffing as she lubricated easily.

Hilary kept her eyes shut, as she was frightened to spoil the sensation by looking. Instead of fingers it now seemed as if there were four mouths working all over her. Soft lips traced patterns across her skin, pinched lightly at her breast, licked lightly over her lips or gently pressed into her vagina - but never very far.

Hilary began to moan and lift, trying to press into the tongues and mouths, working with them but each time they seemed to lift and start again elsewhere. Waves of sensual pleasure flowed through her, each one building but never quite reaching breaking point.

Over and over it went until she was in a daze of sensual feeling, on edge and beginning to crave the release of breaking through into a climax which was always taken away from her.

At an unseen signal from the Negro the four harem girls stepped back and released her ankles from the table. Instead, 4 lengths of white, silken cord was tied to her wrists and ankles and she was helped to lift herself up from the table. Confused and disappointed, Hilary looked around at the excited faces of the girls and let herself be guided by them.

Lightly on their bare feet the girls followed the Negro out of the room into the main part of the building, leading Hilary gently by her four cords. A short walk and she found herself in another room, decorated in the Arabic style and heady with the scent of musk.

“Now what?” asked Hilary.

She received no reply. The negro actually walked out of the room. Somewhat flummoxed by this Hilary looked at the girls. Again no response. Instead one of the girls pointed to the centre of the room and giggled. Hilary followed the finger and saw that fixed in the floor was a stone, circular block. Almost waist high to her the top surface of the ornately-carved circular column had set into it a tremendous black, glistening phallus. Making Hilary gasp at its associations in her panicky mind, it must have risen fully 12 inches from the stone column and was the width of her upper arm. Spiralling down and around the phallus was a twisting ridge, a raised vein of black wood deliberately left by its carver.

Almost before she had taken this in, Hilary was lifted in a daze by the harem girls who by their gestures were insisting that she lower herself down onto the black phallus. Hilary was uncertain whether to resist or not. Her blood was still hot from her earlier treatment and she craved just this sort of pressure in her vagina. On the other hand impaling her cunt on the wooden black cock seemed somehow, wanton.

With girls' hands on her back and supporting her thighs, Hilary found herself sliding slickly down the pole as it began to push its way into her. Her own juices, roused and ready, made it easy and impossible for her to resist. Not that she wanted to…

“Ohhhh!”

Her weight was enough to bury her steadily, inch by inch, onto the pole.

When the girls could see that the white woman was firmly embedded, more than half way down the black pole, they released her but spread out across the room holding on to the cords, still tied to Hilary’s wrists and ankles. The two girls holding her wrists stood to the side of her so that her arms were pulled out to the left and right as far as possible. The other two harem girls held her legs 45 degrees apart and forwards, parallel with the ground. There was nothing to stop Hilary from sliding slowly down the phallus.

At some unheard signal the girls began to walk clockwise around the carving, pulling Hilary round with them as they moved. The room was suddenly full of Arab ululating as the girls made that eerie, throaty call as they speeded up. In a few turns Hilary felt herself sink to the very bottom of the phallus. Somehow gravity had forced all of it inside her and she could feel the head squashing high up inside her pressing up against her cervix.

Hilary began to feel faint and dizzy as the girls raced around, spinning her as fast as they could. She noticed that each time she spun there was a point where the raised vein of wood, higher than the rest of the pole, pressed into the bloated end of her clit in an electric way. Hilary moaned as the heat and friction built inside her. Without really planning it, she began to squeeze together and lean her pelvis slightly forward in time to catch the moments when the vein made contact, stroking her clit and riding the pole.

“Grrr! More! More!”

The well-educated white woman lost track of where she was, naked and shaved, a sex slave performing in some Arab palace. All she knew was the overwhelming heat and sound and stamping and the blood moving thru her.

Hilary wanted this orgasm and nothing else mattered.

Everything in her gripped and squeezed and concentrated as she began to climb up towards her climax.

“Yes! Yes! More!”

Hilary was not aware that she began to gasp and moan out loud and that her chest flushed deep blonde as the blood rose into her extended nipples.

“God! Yes! Fuck Me!”

Her world consisted of one thing - 12 inches high, shaped like a cock and filling her cunt.

“YESSSS!“ shrieked Hilary in a scream of ecstasy.

Fulfilment!

It was only at the moment that she broke and screamed out in deep fulfilment that Hilary

realised she was now the only sound in the room. Everyone else had become silent to listen to her fucking herself. Around her the harem girls gradually came to a halt, their cords slack, releasing Hilary to rest her feet on the floor, still deeply embedded on the pole. Breathless and pouring with sweat Hilary could feel her heart pounding so fiercely that it seemed it would burst out of her chest. In a few fleeting coherent moments she gulped in air and tried to bring her body under control.

Unbeknown to the panting white woman her performance had been observed. Thru a spy hole in the door an old man had watched. The sight of a naked beautiful woman fucking herself senseless as her big tits bounced up and down did nothing for him. He was merely disgusted. A woman should exist purely to serve a man. If she pleasured herself she must be a degenerate whore. Western women were of course the worst whores. Disgustingly immoral sows fit only to be used and abused. This kuffour whore was even more debauched then the last one. He grunted his contempt at the tall African next to him. This trollop would be punished!

The Negro solemnly agreed with his master (such a tactic was always sensible). He would ready his men and his whip and ensure that this whore would provide a delightful evenings’ entertainment as she screamed and begged.

The old sheikh thought for a moment. No. This was the demoness who had spat at him. Watching her getting gang-raped and whipped till her back ran red wasn’t enough punishment.

He barked at the Negro what he wanted organising and then sauntered off back to his favorite boy.

The Negro glanced at his passing and smiled. He at least had enjoyed watching Hilary’s sexy body work up a sweat, as his throbbing manhood could testify. And the old Arab’s order had given him a green light to satisfy his lust. He went into the room.

The first Hilary knew of the Negro’s return was when she was hauled up and off the cock-pole. Still wheezing she was dimly aware that the girls untied the cords round her wrists and ankles. Then, with a painful grip on her upper arm the African dragged her out of the room and back towards her cell. Once there Hilary was shoved face first onto the bunk.

“Ooof!”

Before she could draw breath Hilary felt her dainty ankle been seized.

“Wha!?!”

She was flung over onto her back - to be greeted by the sight of the Negro bearing down on her, cock out.

Hilary gasped in horror. Over the last few days she had - quite involuntarily - seen a good many erect male members, and this one beat the lot. Truly a worthy cousin to that which she had just been impaled upon.

“No…no,” she breathlessly gasped.

Weakly she raised a hand to fend him off but he contemptuously brushed it aside and placed himself between her legs.

With no preamble the big black just stuck his erect prick into her. Hilary was so lubricated from the day’s previous endeavours that he could slam it balls-deep all the way. She tried to rise, to fight him off but she was just too exhausted. Her head flopped back in defeat as the African fucked his sexy white captive with deep, hard strokes.

‘Oh well!’ was the tired thought that flashed thru Hilary’s mind, ‘Here we go again…’

He was driving into her more feverishly now, slamming his pelvis against her with each thrust. Hilary grimaced in pain as her rapist seized her boobs and held onto them as he humped away. Her whole body was subservient to the foot-long beast inside her.

Hilary felt him throbbing inside her, felt his meat twitching deep in her body.

She knew what was coming…

“Usuthu!“ yelled the man in triumph as his cum blasted into Hilary’s womb.

His victim started to sob in abject despair as he pumped more cum into her. These tears seemed to increase his enjoyment as he pumped away, until finally, the pace of the rape slowed, and with a sigh of satisfaction, he pulled his softening meat from her. Hilary collapsed back into the bed, crying as she felt the cum leaking out of her. The black simply sneered, made sure the captive was securely fastened and left.

It took Hilary quite some time to recover from her latest ordeal. She felt herself sobbing and shaking for what seemed like hours. And when she tried to sit up she felt the hateful chain on her wrist.

“Oh no….please no…,”

Eventually and after some deep breaths Hilary pulled herself together to assess her situation.

She was a prisoner. Someone’s captive.

One of the staff had just raped her.

Any hope that she would receive gentle treatment as part of someone’s harem was therefore dashed.

Consequently her future was clearly destined to be savage.

Hilary felt herself shaking again. Her stomach churned. Assessing the situation had obviously not been a good idea.

Check out Part 5!

Thanks to ASSTR for publishing.

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