The Story of Michael

by Damien Dsoul

  “I do. The U.S., government knows I’m here. If I get missing, they’re going to come looking for you, you bastard,” I spat the word at him.

  He laughed, tapped ash off his cigarette. “Nobody knows you’re here, Michael. Come to think of it, do you know where you are right now?”

  He waited for me to answer. He saw the dumb look on my face and he and his men laughed.

  “You’re not in the States, Michael. You’re in Africa right now, lost and alone. There’s no one coming for you.”

  “What did you do with Catherine?”

  “My friend at the resort told me you’re her boyfriend, correct? How noble of you to come all this way to find her. I do have good news for you though. You will get to meet her. But first, you’ll have to submit.”

  “What are you talking about? Submit to what?”

  He looked past my head. The man who stood behind me came around and pulled me up to my feet and slammed his fist into my mid-section. The pain was abrupt. I cried out at the same time doubled up and fell to my knees. I remained that way leaning on my forearm on the floor while my other clutched my hurt stomach, coughing and groaning from the pain; I hadn’t yet gotten over the knock on the head I’d sustained back at the mansion.

  Ali left his couch and came and stood before me. “I want you to learn where your place is in the scheme of life, Michael. It’s something that’s never taught in your public school system or law schools, but it’s something a lot of you white bois ought to learn.”

  He snapped his finger. One of his men went out of the room. Ali grabbed hold of my hair and made me sit on my knees. His face stared grimly at me.

  “You’re about to have an epiphany the likes you’ve never had before, Michael. Something a lot of you need to learn to be.”

  His man returned with a white woman and white man coming behind him. The white couple were naked and they both wore dog collars on their necks of which the man pulled them forward with a leash; the white man had some contraption that looked like a cage on his penis. The man handed both leashes to Ali who then pulled the couple to come kneel before him. He puffed on his cigarette and dumped the ash on the white man’s head. The white man gave no response.

  “Kiss my shoes, white boi,” Ali said to him.

  I watched as the white man lowered his head and did as Ali told him to. He kissed his shoes with such devotion as if he were spit-polishing them. I watched with numb fear and shock even though I was still reeling from the punch in my stomach.

  Ali kicked him away and waved his finger at the white woman to inch closer towards his crotch. He didn’t need to tell her what he wanted her to do. She unzipped his fly and pulled out his semi-erect penis and put it into her mouth. Ali turned to look at me, grinning. He cupped one of the woman’s breasts in his hand and fondled it.

  “You’re sick,” I said to him, sickened by what I was seeing ... though not totally as it brought back images of what I’d seen taking place back at the mansion. My mind recalled images of Thaddeus Black screwing his secretary ... of Olu Shango fucking Anya in the resort and then Heidi inside the limousine ... and then at the mansion where the white couple had kneeled before him sucking his cock. It all was sickening ... and yet there was a stirring I couldn’t deny.

  “I’m special, that’s what I am, white boi,” Ali said to me, laughing. “This is the future, and you’re in it right now. Hey, you!” he snapped his finger at the white man who then came towards him and the white woman stepped aside and allowed the white man to suck his cock as well. “This is where all you white bois are meant to be at the black man’s feet, Michael. You’re ignorant of that, but you’re going to learn. Starting now.”

  He looked at his men and nodded his head. The two of them came to my side and helped me up to my feet. One of them held my arms behind my back tight while the other freed my belt buckle and loosened the top button of my jeans and zipped down my fly and allowed my jeans to fall to my ankle. He pushed down my briefs as well and exposed me to the room. At that moment I felt small ... naked and insignificant. I was turning beef red. I tried to free my arms from the man’s grasp but he merely twisted it high up my backside hurting me some more.

  “I’m going to give you a benefit of getting a taste of what you’ll soon be doing, Michael.”

  He indicated at the white couple to come to me. Still on their knees, the white woman took my penis in my hand. Right away as she touched me I could feel an awakening. Still I tried to struggle but it was no use. She brought her lips to my dick and though she didn’t kiss me, merely rubbed her lips back and forth on my member. My prick was kicking to life; I felt pre-cum ooze out of my slit hole. Her partner, the white man, inched closer. It was he who opened his mouth to suck my cock. The man who tightened his grip on my arm warned me not to make any move or else he’d give me another punch. I dare not kick the white man off me. I writhed and kept moving my waistline to push him off me. The man held my waistline and kept on pulling my cock with his mouth. I couldn’t help it - I was beginning to luxuriate in what he was doing to me. I’d never had another man suck my cock before, and never have I assumed myself to be thought of as gay ... but this was unlike any experience I’d had. I could feel my prick getting hard in his mouth. I watched him slobber and droll over my cock. The white woman fingered my ass cheeks and I cried out when she dug her finger right into my rectum. I groaned from it and tightened my ass muscles but it didn’t stop her from doing what she was doing. It hurt at first, but afterwards I began to enjoy it and I loosened my ass muscles to give her finger further room while her partner went on swallowing my prick. I was still fighting to be free, and yet I was groaning from what he was doing. Ali and his boys were laughing at me. I don’t know how long I went through the trail until I felt the tickling down in my balls. I couldn’t hold it back; by this time I was panting like one riding a treadmill.

  I was on fire - I felt every hair on my body stand erect as I ejaculated my load.

  I shot my load into the white man’s mouth. He took in everything I had to give till I felt like falling from being weakened. The other of Ali’s men appeared with a plastic plate and he presented it to the white man’s face who then emptied my load of cum onto the plate. Ali’s man dropped the plate on the floor and took the white man and the woman’s leash back to Ali who pulled them to kneel by his side. He signalled the other of his man who then let go of me and I fell to the floor with my jeans and briefs hanging down my legs. I was all sweaty still trying to catch my breath when Ali’s man brought the plate with droplets of my semen on it and gave it to me. I was trying to figure out what they wanted me to do with it when Ali spoke to me.

  “Don’t let’s waste time, Michael. It’s your mess and that means you get to clean it up.”

  Was he crazy? Insane? I looked at him, looked at my plate ... I looked at the white couple kneeling on either side of him, their faces listless to my plight ... I looked up at his henchmen who in turn looked grimly at me, wanting to hurt me if given the chance. I could see it in their eyes. Neither of them seemed to be fucking around.

  I still had the plate in my hand. I shook my head at him.

  Ali’s voice turned cold. “Take the plate to your lips and lick your semen clean. Do it, white boi, or else I’ll have my boys hold you down and squeeze your nuts till you beg them to stop.”

  “No ... please ... I can’t - ”

  “You can, and you will!” he shouted, then turned to his men and nodded his head.

  The two henchmen came at me, but before they could lay their hands on me to do further damage I brought the plate to my lips, shut my eyes, and poured everything down my throat. I licked up my semen, every drop of it, and gave gagging fits when I was done. I showed them the plate to know it was empty and allowed it to fall from my hand. I felt suddenly sick.

  Ali was laughing at me. “that’s good, very excellent, white boi.
You’re still a far way off, but you’re learning. And you’re going to learn more.”

  I rested my back against the arm of a chair and stuck out my tongue, obsessively wiping off what stain of my semen was on my mouth. I could taste it in my mouth; it felt like a taste that was never going to leave me. It brought back the memory of earlier in the day when I’d jerked off with Anya’s torn panties and then licked off my cum. Hard to believe that I’d done both of such in less than twenty-four hours. Was it a harbinger of what I was turning into? Of what I was becoming?

  One of Ali’s henchmen brought me a glass of wine and told me to drink it. I took the glass from him and not caring what the wine was about I threw it down my throat and gave the glass back to him. Ali meanwhile had returned to his couch and lit himself another cigarette.

  “There’s nothing richer than tasting a black man’s semen, Michael,” he blew smoke in my direction. “It’s what white women long for, and white bois too, whether old or young. There is nothing more insignificant that a white boi’s semen. All white bois are meant to ingest their sperm. That’s the lesson you just went through and there’s more to come.”

  “Let me go,” I said to him. My voice sounded more like a croak. “Please ... I’ll return home and not tell anyone about you ...”

  He sniggered. “What do you think you know about me that makes you think I’ll be afraid of you even telling anyone, Michael? Before your plane brought you to this part of the world, had you ever thought you’d run into me ever before?”

  I looked at him, not knowing what to say.

  “You came here to find your lost girlfriend. You might get to meet her, and you might not. But you will become that which you’ve always wanted to be but didn’t realize it until now, Michael. I promise you that.”

  “What ... what is it?” I was starting to see double of him. Everything was becoming hazy before my eyes; everything inside the room was losing focus. I blinked a couple of times and ran my fingers across my eyes and still everything was looking distorted before my eyes.

  The glass ... something in the glass!

  I rose to my feet. I tottered. I could hear Ali laughing.

  “What do you want me to be?”

  “What all white bois ought to be, Michael. A white boi-slave.”

  I fell back on the floor and everything went dark once again.

  Part Two

  CAMP ALE-RUN

  Where was I?

  In the bottomless pit of the world. I was in darkness. Not a shred of light broke through the gloom. From out of this gloom my new world was born: it started with a sound. The sound grew in size and density ... magnanimous. The sound broke through the gloom that was the darkness and from outside the darkness light began to appear, through cracks in its rim. The cracks widened and continued to break, merging with the sound till everything came down in a shattering scream.

  Such was how I came awake into what was before me.

  I was in the back of a caravan truck; the interior was dark but my eyes adjusted to the darkness and wasn’t all that dark anymore. There were slits in the containment and light came through. I was lying on the floor with my head resting under a rolled blanket. It was like being back inside the trunk of the car as I realized we were moving and the back of the truck bounced and jerked over everything on the road, bumping my head on the rough metal surface which was what had brought me awake. Other faces stared at me; human faces. White men, all of them and they were naked except for the piece of loin cloth that covered their crotch and they sat with their legs folded upright so they rested their heads on their knees while their backs reclined against the walls of the containment. I too was dressed the same way - my clothes, shoes, my wallet was all gone. I looked at myself, amazed that I was discovering it only then.

  One of them threw his hand at me. I grabbed his hand and he pulled me up to sit next to him. I looked at his face and realized it looked familiar.

  “Hi there, Michael,” Hugh Lawrence smiled me. “Glad to know you’re back with us.”

  “What’re you doing here?” I said to him as if I couldn’t already figure out where we both were. I was busy wiping clumps of dust and sand off my body.

  “First class comfy trip to the Taj Mahal,” he grinned at me. “But in your case and mine, and these other suckers in here, I really don’t know. But I’ve got an idea.”

  “Yeah, what idea?”

  I looked around the containment and counted the faces there. There were six of us. Four looked older - forties to fifties. The other two looked about my age. They all looked worn out and miserable. There wasn’t any remains of whatever I’d drank last night and I was wracking my brain trying to put together all what had happened that brought me here. If this was a nightmare it was the most vivid dream I’d had in ages.

  The truck went over a bump in the road and it made us jump where we sat and fall back hard. Hugh appeared to be the only one having a ball from our situation; the others turned their faces away from him and seemed to resign to whatever fate they had coming.

  “I hate to break it to you, Michael, but we left Disneyland back at the resort. Wherever it is they’re taking us to, I can only imagine it’ll be something worse.”

  The truck was driving fast. I turned and looked out one of the slits in the containment. Everything seemed to speed past us like lightning. All I could see was open land space that stretched beyond hills and empty land spaces. There were trees, vegetation and wild bushes and rough earth and that was about it; it looked as if we’d taken a trip back in time and were now light-years away from civilization.

  “See anything you like out there?” Hugh said to me, his words bursting my bubble of whatever it was I was hoping to find. “Let me know if you find a McDonalds spot or maybe a pub.”

  “This isn’t fucking funny, Hugh,” I growled at him.

  “You don’t see me laughing now do you, old boy. We’ve been on the road since dawn - possibly a night before - and like you we all woke up and saw that,” he indicated his head at the sight we were racing past. “The kid there,” he pointed at one of the young white kids who sat alone at the head of the containment with his head in his hands. “He’s been crying his head off since he woke up and only stopped before you came awake. No, Michael, this ain’t no joke.”

  The misery, the predicament of whatever awaited the six of us seemed then to sink into my head. It was a crushing blow to me as I turned away from the slit in the containment cell and sat with my legs curled under me. I looked at the kid whom Hugh had pointed out, saw the way his face remained hunched behind his hands and the way his body shook I knew he was still crying. I too felt like crying, but what good would have come of it then. I thought of my life up until that moment. I thought of images of my home back in Buffalo, New York. The details of my bedroom danced in my head putting me in them as if I was back there enjoying my life until those two men from the State Department had shown up at my doorstep. I thought of my parents. They would be worried by now since I’d only written to them once since I arrived in Nigeria. I thought of Thaddeus Black and I imagined him worried about how far I’d come. I thought about the State Department guy, Clarence ... I thought of Catherine.

  I looked at the crying kid. I wanted to go over and comfort him but instead I remained where I was. I lowered my head between my knees and shut my eyes.

  Evening was upon us when the truck came to a stop in front of a guarded gate. We all came alive and turned to spy out the slits at the sight of armed black men waving guns and machetes and talking back and forth in their language as they too surrounded our truck; some of them fired off shots in the air and we cringed from the sound; the boy’s whimpering cries seemed to escalate as he too heard the shots till the man beside him growled at him to pipe down and shut it.

  Our truck drove through an opened gate and we entered a compound. Now we saw people
and houses. I saw some white men and women on the street as we drove on, though they seemed to be in chains. Hugh noticed it too and we shared a glance as if trying to figure what we’d just seen.

  We drove round a circle and then the truck came to a halt in the centre of the camp’s training ground. People approached the truck right away. The boy who’d been crying was cringing now as we heard them working on the containment’s locks. The doors swung open and they lowered the latch and we saw our captors for the first time, or at least it was my first. I was yet to know how the others came to be with me in the truck.

  The black men looked violent and menacing. They carried guns, held knives and machetes and they yelled at us in pidgin English to come down from the truck. We did as they wanted and jumped down from the containment’s cargo space and they led us away from the truck to stand next to each other some feet away from the truck. Several of them fired their weapons into the air making us cringe with fright, cursing and yelling at us. One of them pushed a wheelbarrow towards us and the men took something that was heaped in the wheelbarrow’s mouth. They were a set of manacles with a small black ball attached to them. The same sort of manacles from slavery era. The men clipped the manacles to our feet; one of the white men appeared to revolt and tried to fight back but one of the men knocked him down with the butt of his rifle and still the manacles went to his ankles with the black ball dangling off it. We stood there as modern-day slaves with nothing left to our dignity.

  The leader of the pack stood facing us. He was dressed in black camouflage and wore a black doo-rag over his head and aviator sunshades covered his eyes. He held an assault rifle in his gloved hands. He walked back and forth around us, sizing us up. His other men stood back and watched.

  “I am Black Master Ghandi,” he addressed us. “This is Camp Ale-Run. You are in the black version of Sorbibor now, and in here my government is law. You all once were white men, but not anymore. Matter of fact, neither of you have ever the right to be referred to as men at all. Not ever. Here in this camp, you all are nothing but slaves. Every black man you see standing before you is your Black Master. Every black woman you come in contact with is your Black Mistress. You will accord either of them with utmost respect and servitude. If you are addressing either of them, you will refer to them as ‘Black Master sir, or Black Mistress ma’am’. Here in my camp, you all will undergo a rigorous training to ensure you remain forever as worthless slaves. If there’s any amongst you who feels he ought not be here, step forward right now.”