by Paul Blades
I realized that I was in uncharted territory here. Why was Rukimo confiding in me? Did he suspect something? Did the arrival of the two Americans at Morianos’ village in the jungle have anything to do with me? I wondered if one or both of them was meant to be my contact. If so, I was in a world of shit. One of them would talk sooner or later.
Rukimo was studying my face as we strolled out to the veranda. It was a wide expanse of coral pink tile, smooth and glossy. There was a large canopy over it to keep out the midday sun. Rukimo was expecting a response. I decided to play stupid.
“Mr. Rukimo,” I said, “I’m afraid that I’m not used to traveling in your league. When I worked for Mr. Blanco, if we had doubts about a guy, we whacked him. There was no sense taking chances. But our little gang was nothing like what you guys have got. I mean, I can hardly take it in. How big is this guy Klitzman?”
Rukimo laughed as he pulled out my chair. “Oh, Harry, let’s just say that he’s big. This island is just one of his many facilities. I won’t give you a list, but anywhere you lived on the globe, you wouldn’t have far to go to find one.”
I sat and pulled a napkin onto my lap. Rukimo sat opposite me and motioned for the two girls to approach. “Enough business, Harry. How do you like the twins here?”
I looked over the shiny, black skin of the two girls. Their hips were slim, but yet there was a definite curve to their torsos. Their faces were finely sculpted, their eyes were clear. I could smell a faint hint of musk as they stood near me. They were mirror copies of each other, yet the one closer to me seemed a little taller, her breasts just a little larger. Her nipples were a deep red and they jutted out a good inch from her areolas. There was something exotically beautiful about the girls. Each wore the standard steel collar and leather bracelets, but they also had long, bright gold, circular earrings. Their navels sported rings of tiny diamonds.
“They’re an eyeful,” I said. “Beautiful.”
“Oh, yes, I’m awfully proud of them,” Rukimo said. “Well trained too. There’s actually a story behind them.”
A tall, lithesome woman, white, with long blonde hair, emerged from the building. She glided gracefully to our table and made a slight bow to Rukimo. “How may I serve you, master,” she said. Her voice was smooth, sulky. She was wearing a bright, multicolored calico skirt low on her hips. Her hair was joined behind her head in a long braid that ended in a knot. Her lips were bright red, her eyes shaded with a delicate blue. She wore nothing on top and her porcelain breasts, large and well rounded, swayed gently as she spoke. It was the first woman I had seen with any clothing. I was surprised.
“This is Tania,” Rukimo explained. “She’s my major domo. She runs the female staff here.” He turned to Tania. “Bring us some lunch, a nice dry Chablis and some fish. We’ll have some nuts and cheese while we wait.”
Tania bowed again and gracefully exited.
“As I was saying,” Rukimo continued, “there’s a story behind these two lovelies. Last year we were asked to lend, shall I say, assistance, to a friend of ours, a general in a local army. It seems the President of the republic was seeking to bring what he called ‘corruption in the armed forces’ under control. Of course, he found that he bit off a little more than he could chew. Our friend, with our help, managed to neutralize the Presidential Guard and install himself as ‘the savior of the nation’. The President was shot. His wife now serves as our friend’s whore. These are his daughters. The one on the right is Dafina. She was attending Oxford University at the time of the coup. An emergency telegram brought her home. On the left is Deka. She had a job at the American Embassy. Getting her was a little tricky after she claimed political asylum. But we have our ways.”
I sensed an uncomfortable shift in the stance of the two young black girls. The one closest to me, Deka, lifted her head slightly and glanced at me quickly. I could see a tremor in her face.
Rukimo spat out a command to the girls in their native language and they ran inside the house. In a moment they were back carrying a thick, red rug. They laid it on the tile next to us, paused for a moment, and then fell into each other’s arms.
Their lips locked together and I could see their mouths opening as their tongues intertwined. Their hands descended each other’s backs, pausing to stroke the rippling black flesh of their buttocks. Slowly, they descended to their knees and then lay outstretched on the rug. While we awaited our appetizers, we watched the girls conduct a passionate Sapphic display. The taller one was now on top and she spread the legs of her sister. Her fingers danced along the cleft between her thighs as she placed her lips on her breast. The smaller one sighed and raised her chest to meet the oral caress.
I could see the pink interior of the smaller one’s pussy as the other spread the soft lips with her fingers. I noticed, as I had not before, that their nether lips were lined with bright gold studs. The studs glinted in the strong mid-day sun. Tania emerged from the house with a small tray of nuts and cheeses along with a shiny, wet bottle of golden wine. Rukimo unceremoniously opened the bottle and poured me a glass. I hesitated to take my eyes off of the passionate display before me. The girls’ skins shimmered with a fine sheen of perspiration. They had changed position and were now kissing each other’s bellies prefatory to a descent down below. I watched, mesmerized, as their pink tongues lapped the fine, soft hairless skin of their loins and then entered the glistening, wet canals between their legs.
I semiconsciously grabbed a handful of nuts as I admired the luscious display. My temperature was rising and I felt my cock hardening. How was I going to eat with this going on?
I took a long drink of the cold, dry Chablis. Its tart flavor was satisfying and stoked the warmth that was growing in my loins. I heard Rukimo laugh.
“They play well together, eh, Harry?”
“I’ll say,” I said, not taking my eyes off of the wriggling, sighing pair of impassioned women. The smaller one, the one on the bottom, was the first to begin to moan and squirm. She was joined soon thereafter by her sister. I could see the cheeks of her ass clench, as pulses of pleasure seemed to jolt through her. Were they faking? If they were, it was a very good show.
Finally, the girls’ moans became louder and more staccato. Their legs were twitching and their hands clenched each other’s backs. Their moans crescendoed and then began to fade. I gulped back the remainder of my wine.
As the girls slumped apart, I noticed Tania waiting patiently, holding a covered tray. Rukimo’s white teeth were flashing as he grinned in appreciation of the show. He looked at me conspiratorially and then nodded to Tania.
The tall, white girl approached the table and, holding the tray with one hand, lifted the lid. On it was a steaming, pink colored fish, filleted, sitting on a bed of saffron rice. Small roasted tomatoes circled the rice bed. It looked and smelled delicious.
Tania bent over as she allowed me to serve myself from the tray. Her breasts swayed gently as she waited for me to fill my plate. I noticed small sapphire studs in her ears.
Rukimo and I ate silently. The fish had a delicate smoked flavor. It melted in my mouth. When we had finished, Tania appeared, as if by magic, and cleared away our plates. The bottle of wine was three quarters empty and my head had begun to swim in the heat, exacerbated by the residual hard on I was sporting. Rukimo grinned at me.
“There’s only one way to finish off a fine meal like this, Harry,” he said. He looked at the twins who had remained entwined, caressing each other almost lovingly. They needed no further instruction, leaping to their feet and scrambling towards us. The short one knelt at my feet and dipped her head under the table. Her hands parted my robe and her mouth engulfed my steel hard cock.
I almost swooned as the hot mouth and soft tongue descended the length of my tool. I spread my legs wide and placed my hands on the black haired head between my thighs. I looked over to see Rukimo similarly occupied. As the girl’s lips pressed hard against the bulbous head of my cock, I let my head roll back and closed my eye
s. I felt soft hands caressing my thighs as the girl’s tongue swirled around the tip of my manhood. Maybe tomorrow, or the day after, I would be able to calmly revel in the oral ministrations of a beautiful slave girl, but not today. I had more than three years worth of lust to satisfy. I felt my juices rising and I began to moan. As my penis jerked and pulsed, spilling my seed into the energetic mouth, wave after wave of pleasure washed over me. I ended with a long, satisfied sigh.
Rukimo was still busily milking his cock with the taller black girl’s mouth. I could hear little cries emerge from her as he, holding her black carpeted head between his hands, jammed his cock against the back of her throat. Tania had returned and was watching silently, her face a mask of indifference. The girl between my legs was sucking gently on my flaccid penis, stroking my balls gently. I could feel the blood stirring again.
It was somewhat disconcerting to have my dick in this girl’s mouth while the blond woman stood sphinx-like next to me. I admired her soft, inviting breasts and the way her belly curbed inwards near her hips. The scandalously short skirt hid away her sex and upper thighs and I could not help but wonder what lay beneath. It was funny that I had been inundated by visions of beautiful, naked flesh all day long, and yet here I was, tantalized by what I could not see and probably could not have. I had to guess that she was Rukimo’s personal property. And I didn’t want to fuck with Rukimo.
I was drawn from my lustful appraisal of Tania by Rukimo’s loud grunts. He was coming at last. I saw him press the black head down onto his loins, pushing his quite ample manhood deep into the young girl’s throat. He held it there as he rolled his head back, luxuriating in his passionate discharge. The girl’s body tensed due to the cessation of the flow of air to her lungs. I could see her hands clench, the muscles of her back contract and stiffen. I had to give her credit, though. She moved her head not an inch.
Finally, Rukimo released the head he had held so firmly to its task. My cock was hardening, but I sensed that my luncheon was just about over. Rukimo snapped his fingers and the two black sisters scurried back to their rug.
“Ahhhhh, Harry,” Rukimo sighed. There’s nothing like a well trained mouth. How was yours?”
“Perfect,” I replied.
“And now I think I’ll have my siesta, Harry. Enjoy the rest of the afternoon, take a walk around,” Rukimo said. “Get laid.”
I laughed. “Sure Mr. Rukimo,” I said. “I’ll do that.”
As I got up from my chair Rukimo spoke to Tania.
“Go to my bedroom and wait for me there,” he told her. “And bring the number two whip.”
Tania stiffened and I detected a momentary trace of fear in her face. It was gone after a split second. “Yes, master,” was all she said.
CHAPTER THIRTEEN
THE PRINCE REVEALED
The Prince was suitably impressed with the oral skills of his new slave. Her rubbed her head with his hand, petting her, as she coaxed the last few drops of cum from his slowly detumescing organ. When he had regained his senses, the Prince pushed the slave girl’s head back and drew her to her feet. He pulled the covers down to the foot of the bed and then pushed her onto it. The remnants of her chemise were gathered around her bound wrists. She lay there in anxious anticipation of her further use while the Prince stripped off his clothes. He joined the woman on the bed and spread his tall, taut frame alongside her. She could feel the heat of his body pressing against her. He grabbed her by the hair and kissed her lips, running his tongue inside her mouth. Her eyes closed, the young woman eagerly accepted his passionate embrace.
The Prince ran his left hand down Fatima’s body, caressing her breasts, stroking her belly. He covered her sex with his hand and probed within. Fatima’s cunt was plush and hot. She moaned as his hand enflamed her. Her nipples were taut with passion, she yearned for her master’s cock.
Running his lips down along Fatima’s neck, sucking gently on her skin, he descended to her breasts. While his left hand manipulated her flush sex, his other hand circled her right breast, squeezing it, first gently and then harder. He bit down on the nipple softly, sending an electric charge throughout the young girl’s body.
His lips went lower and lower, scraping along her stomach and down to the apex of her moist canal. Shifting his body so that he was between her legs, he spread them widely so that he could examine the engorged lips, the tender, pink center. The Prince inhaled the sweet odor of the perfume that had been applied there. His cock had risen again and ached for insertion in a warm, moist place. As he ran his tongue inside the labial lips and up and down the expanding crevasse between them the girl was virtually apoplectic with pleasure. She had prayed that her new master would appreciate her charms, would revel in her softness, would enjoy her compliant sexuality. But she hadn’t dreamt that he would give her pleasure like this.
The Prince ran his hands along the inside of the girl’s widespread thighs as he continued to agitate her pussy with his tongue. She began to rock her hips in anticipation of her incipient orgasm. Quickly, the Prince withdrew his tongue and, pulling her right leg over her left, turned the girl to her belly. He pulled back her hips until her lower portals were exposed to his use. Kneeling on the bed, her forehead pressed into the mattress, Fatima waited to be filled. She felt the Prince’s cock press against the dainty star of her ass, and loosened her muscles in aide of his ease of penetration. She was a well trained slut. Many weeks of whippings and callous rapes had brought her to the point where her rear entrance could be used almost as easily as her front. The Prince enjoyed the benefit of her skills, as he was able to thrust his cock past the tight ring of flesh easily.
Fatima moaned as the Prince’s steel hard cock filled her. There was no question but that she had come to enjoy a good ass fucking. The friction of the pistoning of a hot cock against the sensitive tissues of her anus sent wave after wave of pleasurable impulses to her crevasse, and in turn, to her body. The Prince, too, enjoyed the fine art of sodomy. He thrilled to the feeling of soft warmth that surrounded his rampant pole and the tight pressure brought to bear by the narrow portal. He pumped into Fatima’s bowels, first slowly, and then with increasing intensity. He took joy at the vision of the tightly bound wrists as the girl’s hands writhed in evidence of her passion. The girl began to utter small, shrill cries as he rammed his cock home repeatedly. The cries increased in intensity as he felt her bucking against him.
When he sensed that she was coming, he intensified his efforts, his mind clouding with pleasure. Suddenly he could hold back no more and he shot a hot load of sperm deep inside the excited woman.
Fatima felt the warmth spread within her and her orgasm recommenced. What joy she felt that she had brought her master to pleasure and that he had stirred such a passionate release in her! It was as a wish come true! He would treasure her, yearn for her, and she would please him like a lustful whore.
When the Prince ceased his movements, the couple lay silently in place, their chests heaving, blood still pounding in their brains. The Prince bent forward, leaning his chest against the girl’s sweaty back. When he felt his penis slip from the girl’s rear, he disengaged himself and lay back on the bed. He caressed the cheeks of her ass with one hand as he luxuriated in the calm after the storm. The girl lay still, enjoying the afterglow of her orgasms. She would not move again until instructed, but she would do whatever her master commanded.
Fatima would not have been so content if she could have read her master’s mind. Yes, he had enjoyed his sexual bout with his new property, but he had just begun to take his pleasure with her. As he rose from his supine position, his innate cruelty began to emerge.
The Prince rose from the bed and refreshed his glass of scotch. He downed it quickly, enjoying the fiery bite as it went down his throat. He glanced up at the chain that he had had installed in the ceiling in the middle of the room. The chain ran through an eyebolt and then across the ceiling to another eyebolt and then down the wall. At the bottom of the wall lay sufficient leng
th of chain so that it could be lowered in the middle of the room. He had had some of his father’s slaves dance to the whip there, but his father was particular how his slaves were marked up, and he could rarely go beyond a mere warming of their flesh. But tonight, all restraint was washed away. He would be the judge of what marks were to be worn by his slave and how they got there. He wanted to hear her scream in agony.
Fatima heard the jangle of the chain as it was lowered from the ceiling. She dared not look to discover its source. But it was a familiar sound and it did not bode her well. As she sensed the Prince approaching the bed, her throat began to constrict with fear. Was her idyll about to dissolve into terror? There was a deep, sinking feeling in her stomach.
The Prince leaned over the bed and untied Fatima’s wrists, discarding the torn and ragged maroon chemise. He then pulled her from the bed and dragged her to where the foreboding chain descended from the ceiling. The French girl cringed when she saw it and the open bracelets that dangled from its end. She started to pull away from the Prince’s vice like grip on her arm. It was an involuntary motion, prompted by panic and dread. The Prince lashed out, striking her across the face with his hand. The unanticipated blow knocked the girl senseless.
“Come here, whore,” the Prince growled. “Come and take the beating you deserve.”
The French girl did not understand the words, but understood their meaning. She dreaded the whip. She would do anything to avoid it. She had seen almost countless women piteously beg and plead to be spared the painful kiss of the lash. None of them had been. She resolved not to beg and whine. She would submit. It was the only means left to her, a lowly slave, to assert her humanity, to preserve what little pride she had left, to stoically accept whatever her master could dole out.
