The Story of Michael

by Damien Dsoul

  A white man, probably in his fifties or late-forties with grey hair and naked except for the similar loin cloth he was wearing escorted a white woman - his daughter? - into the room; she wore a white wedding dress. A trail of five bridesmaids followed them, holding flower bouquets. The bridesmaids all wore similar bras, panties and nylon stocks and garter belts and high heels. Behind the bridesmaids came a trail of white men - the same white men who’d earlier being in the room - all dressed in loin cloth attire. It had the atmosphere of some strange gothic wedding.

  I must have felt my jaw hit the ground. I rubbed a hand over my eyes to make sure I wasn’t seeing things.

  The white men stopped and watched as the procession went on towards the podium. From another doorway the other side of the room a white man, dressed in similar outfit, walked into the room followed behind by a group of black men, and came and stopped at the other side of the podium. The white women all seemed to moan from the sight of the near naked black men. Their skin glistened with some oily sheen; they wore Speedos with noticeable bulges in the middle.

  The older man let go of his daughter’s arm and handed her to the younger white man who just entered the room and he then went to join the gathered naked white men at the back of the precession to watch. My eyes went back and forth at everybody in the room and I wondered if everyone in there was insane or getting close to it. What sort of debauchery was this?

  Olu Shango, the man dressed in the priest clothing, began to officiate; the hymn music died to a low murmur.

  “Ladies and gents,” he spoke out loud. “White married sluts and married white bois as well. We’re gathered here to witness the marriage and submission of Wendy Parkes from Rhode Island, to Donald Murray from Chicago. Anyone who don’t think this event should take place, speak right now and get out or shut the fuck up forever.”

  Nobody in the room said anything.

  “Good. Now, would the ring bearers step forward.”

  One of the bridesmaids and one of the black men from the groom’s section came forward and handed a pair of ring to the groom and bride. The room was quiet you could hear a pin drop. Shango officiated on the couple saying their marriage vows. It was something I’d never heard before ever in my life.

  The Groom: “I swear and promise on my honour and life to love and cherish you with all my heart. To submit to you. To be your unswerving sissy white boi. To perform whatever cuck hubby duties you demand of me and never deny your need and desires to your Black Master. Also to uphold whatever demands that’s required to keep you and him happy and together.”

  He slipped his ring into her finger.

  The Bride: “I swear and promise on my honour and life to love and cherish you with all my heart and soul. To dominate you in whichever means I’m meant to. To keep you in line in faith and duty to whatever demands and desires my Black Master wants of me, and make sure we remain submissive and devoted to his love together.”

  She slipped her ring into his finger; behind me I heard one of the women behind me exhale like she was watching a heartfelt scene in a soap-opera drama. I saw one or two of the bridesmaids holding a handkerchief to their eyes. It was crazy.

  “By the power vested me in,” Olu Shango’s voice boomed out. “I now pronounce two man and wife. You may now kiss the bride.”

  Loud cheers, hurrahs and hand-claps went off in the room as the newly wedded couple shared a brief kiss. Two of the white men servants came forward and lifted the podium away. Olu Shango took off his priestly robe and threw it aside; he stood naked underneath wearing Speedos too. The bulge in his crotch apparent.

  “And now, as your Black Master concerned, you’re both going to fulfil your matrimonial duties to me. On your knees, both of you.”

  The groom and bride did as he ordered them to and knelt before him. The bride cast her bouquet over her head; one of her bridesmaids caught it. Olu seemed to be enjoying himself. I couldn’t believe I was in that room at that place, at such moment in time watching what was about to happen.

  “Take down my Speedos and worship me,” he said to the couple.

  Groom and bride - white husband and white wife - I watched as they pulled down his Speedo pants and the room went in awe as his cock fell out into full view; his cock seemed to have grown in size since last time I saw him wielding it. The wife held his cock her face with what looked like love. She wrapped her mouth around his shaft and pulled back on it. It gave a slight ‘pop’ sound. She sucked on it some more ... then I watched horrified as she passed it to her hubby. I watched the white married groom suck Shango’s cock just as his wife had done while everyone in the room watched. He passed his cock back to the wife and she resumed sucking it. Shango held their heads in both hands and thrust his cock back and forth between their lips. Both of them slobbered over his cock’s foreskin like the world’s most edible banana.

  He pulled the bride up to her feet and pushed down the top of her white dress and sucked on her breasts while her husband went on sucking his cock. Two black men from the groom’s train came over and ran their hands over the bride’s backside as the groom moved back away from them. The bride went back on her knees and took turns sucking Shango’s cock and the other two black men’s shaft. One of the black men pulled the groom’s head towards his crotch and he was sucking his black cock within seconds.

  “Don’t she look wonderful?”

  I turned to look who it was that said that to me and was surprised to see it was Anya, smiling at me. She had her glass before her lips and rolled her tongue seductively over the rim and flashed her eyes at me in a sort of ‘come-on’ gesture.

  “Yes ... yes, she does,” it was all I could say.

  She giggled. “I’d love to find me a white hubby to marry like this.”

  “I’ll bet.”

  Shango now had the bride bent over, reclining against one of the other black men who held on to her. I watched her suck the black man’s cock while Shango fucked her from behind. She had a mouthful of the man’s cock in her mouth but that didn’t stop her noise from escaping her mouth. I could hear her loud and clear from where I stood; the smell of sex pervaded the room like an aftershave lotion. Around me the crowd in the room cheered what was happening; I looked at them as if they’d all gone mad.

  Yet something strange was happening to me. The squirming down in my crotch was getting harder and harder I couldn’t stem it down. I looked around and saw that some of the white women, even the bridesmaids, were fingering and caressing themselves as they watched; some were kissing the black men standing beside them. The white men all near-naked in their loin cloth stroked their pricks. I couldn’t help grabbing my jeans crotch while I continued to watch what was happening.

  The brides’ cries now enveloped the room. Shango groaned behind her. His hands held her arms hard and strong, her dress packed in a parachute-like fold over her backside while he kept fucking her. Her hubby was sucking two cocks of the other black men before him. His wife kept hollering and whimpering from the sex she was getting. Shango gave a final cry and brought her down to her knees and we all watched with awe as he squirted his cum and sprayed it over her face.

  It was mesmerizing, and everybody in the room moaned as they watched it happen. Some of them whipped out their cell phones and took snapshots of it. They needn’t have bothered as I observed a three-man camera crew walking in the out rim of the event capturing every intimate moment on film.

  The bride licked his prick when he was done; her face covered with his cum. Her hubby came to her and he helped lick off some of Shango’s sperm from her face and shared it with her. The room exploded with a standing ovation after that. The moment seemed to seal their marriage; I too couldn’t help being moved by it.

  Now the black men came and arranged themselves and stood on top of the long set of chairs facing us; they’d removed their Speedo pants and all the women in the room m
arvelled at the sight of erect black penises staring at them. There were seven black men in number, aside from the ones standing with the crowd.

  Shango had amazingly recovered from his sex bout and was standing beside the long chairs facing the crowd, still looking authoritative even when naked.

  “Alright, now time to get this party started. This is to the bridesmaids and the white bois in the room. You all know what’s expected of you, SO GET TO IT!”

  He clapped his hands and that sort of sent off a near stampede as the flock of bridesmaids and the white men in the loin-clothes hurried over to stand before the black men on the long bench to suck their pricks. There was one bridesmaid and one white hubby to each black cock standing on the long bench and even that wasn’t enough. Several of the black men had two white women sharing his cock with one of the white men struggling to sneak a taste. It was like watching children fight over candy bars.

  “Hey there, buddy!”

  I nearly jumped as someone tapped my shoulder from behind. It was the American guy whom I’d earlier been conversing with - Tim Simmons. He too like other white men in the room was dressed in his loin cloth, grinning at me.

  “You enjoying the show?” he asked me.

  I nodded my head. “Looks like this is the party, right?”

  “Oh yeah, but it’s just getting started. My wife is one of the bridesmaids and I’d better go join her. Catch you later.”

  He left me and went to join the melee that was taking place in the centre of the living room. I found myself a chair and sat my weak self down. My mind and my eyes whirled like crazy as I watched the congregation of white men and white women feasting upon whichever black cock they can find in the room. It was the most outrageous type of orgy I’d ever seen. The ones who’d been standing and watching were now attacking the black men next to them; everywhere I saw clothes flying off bodies, I saw naked white women sucking cock and some getting fucked as well. The camera crew trained their light over the spectacle and walked here and there, filming the action.

  I looked out for Shango.

  There he sat on a couch with two bridesmaids taking turns sucking his monster dick while the bride herself stood over his face with his head between her legs; her hubby knelt beside them stroking his meat and licking his lips. The women made room for the husband to come suck his cock while they kissed their way up his crotch and torso. Shango had his hands on the bride’s ass cheeks - she had gotten out of her dress except for her wedding veil that was on her head - and I could see his tongue lapping up and down her pussy while she writhed above him. One of the bridesmaids pushed her hubby aside and then she mounted his cock and proceeded to ride him; the husband kissed Shango’s feet while the white woman rocked her buttocks on his cock, screaming out her pleasure.

  Except for the air conditioner pouring cool air into the room, everywhere reeked of cum, sweat and every other malfeasant smell I can think of associated with sex. The camera crew were torn between recording Shango pound the bride as well filming the rest of the orgy that was ongoing in the room.

  Some of the black men took the women they were with out of the room, probably upstairs. Others remained there. Bodies mingled and fought over each other. The white women bent over and each other’s pussy while a black man hammered them from behind. I saw Heidi taking a black dick from behind and loving it. She was on her knees and had her face pressed down between those of another white woman. I looked around for Anya and couldn’t spot her. She was either in the room or had followed one of the men upstairs. I did see the American fellow, Tim Simmons. A black man was thrusting his cock in and out of his mouth while another white woman - his wife probably - knelt beside him awaiting her turn.

  The air was getting thick for me; I felt like one choking. Plus I’d had enough of the sex-crazed event I was seeing.

  I got up and headed towards the doorway from which we had come in. I practically ran towards it.

  ***

  I was grabbing at my crotch when I stepped out of the house and closed the front door behind me - I badly needed to take a piss. The two men who’d earlier manned the front door weren’t there anymore; across from the fountain circle at the other side of the house were a parked row of vehicles and behind them thick bushes. The ground of the parking area was covered with gravel stones. I hobbled towards them and checked to make sure I was alone. I didn’t see anyone around and the vehicles all looked empty. I went to the back of a parked car and hurriedly unzipped my jeans and groaned with relief as I felt urine pour out of my body; I shook as I stood there emptying my bowels. I heard a car door open and slam close followed by the approaching sound of shoes marching on the gravel. I had just finished doing my business and was zipping back my fly when the sound of the shoes came to a stop and I sensed they were behind me. I turned around and there was a short man standing there in a dinner jacket and waistcoat with a walking stick in his hand. A tall dark man dressed in a suit with an imposing stature like Olu stood behind him staring at me. A light from a lamp that lighted the premises provided enough dull gray light for me to make out their faces. The short man had a cigarette in his mouth and lit it with a Zippo lighter.

  “You are Michael, aren’t you,” he said to me. “Michael Paymer, I mean.”

  “And you are?”

  He pulled his cigarette out his lips and blew smoke into the air. “You’re an American. You’re here looking for someone, am I correct?”

  “Who are you?”

  “Catherine Morgan. Ring a bell?”

  I came at him. “I said who are you, mister?”

  There came a fresh set of footsteps. I didn’t catch immediately where they were coming from and I was late to find out as the outline of a shadow appeared from behind me. I turned to look but too late. Something hard and heavy rammed at my face, hitting the top side of my forehead. I felt my head hit the roof of the vehicle beside me and then I stumbled and fell to the ground.

  Everything become dark. I passed out.

  ***

  There was a ringing in the back of my head. It left the back of my head and spread like a disease over my skull. My brain was in a skiff being bombarded by waves of the ocean. Each slap of the wave sent tremor of hurting pain across my brain and all over my head. My eyes were open but I couldn’t make out anything. Everything around me seemed dark and murky. There was the tiny blink of a light but it wasn’t enough for me to make out where I was. I was inside a coffin, at least it felt like it. My head banged against the bottom, sending shards of pain all over my brain and spine. I could barely breath. I tried to open my mouth but that wouldn’t happen. I panicked; inside my head with my brain still lost at sea I panicked. My hands. I tried to move my hands but they wouldn’t move at all; the same with my legs. They were bound together. I was moving. I could hear a sound running under my head ... then a bump.

  I was in the trunk of a vehicle.

  How long was I in there, I couldn’t tell. My eyes came awake and then slipped back into darkness. I didn’t notice it when the car came to a stop even. The trunk opened and a pair of dark men stood there gazing down at me; I could barely make out their faces and I blinked from the light one of them shone down at me. Hands reached into the trunk and pulled me out. I was still struggling to breath. The half carried and half led me towards a metal door. One of them opened it and together they led me down a long corridor. At the end was another door. My eyes closed up ... they came open again as we went from one door after another.

  They led me into a bright room and sat me on a chair. One of them pulled out a blade and cut the bounds of my hands and legs then pulled off the masking tape that had been over my mouth. A door opened and the same short fat man who had been talking with me back at the parking space entered the room with his walking stick in hand. He plumped down on a couch across from me, sizing me up, I think. He took out a gold case and pulled a cigarette out of i
t.

  “Welcome to Nigeria, Michael. Please tell me how has your stay been so far? Pleasant, I hope.” Out came the Zippo lighter and he lit his cigarette while smiling at me. One of the men left my side and fetched a coffee table with an ash tray for him then stood by his side gazing at me.

  “So far so good,” I said. “Who are you and what am I doing here?”

  “I will answer your questions,” he puffed on his cigarette. “My name is Ali. I am a businessman. You are an American who’s turning into a nuisance. You’ve been looking into my business, and I thought I’d bring you here to meet with you in person.”

  “You kidnapped Catherine,” I said to him.

  “Kidnapping is such a foul word, Michael. Whatever gave you the idea that I did?”

  “Looking at you, I can tell it’s what you do. You took her and her parents ... and others. At the resort, it was you that broke into my room, wasn’t it?”

  Another puff of his cigarette, and then he nodded his head. “I like meeting people who dare to put their noses in my affairs. You seem like a good kid. Clean-cut and everything. I wanted to know if you had someone involved with you. Or some people.”