A Love Game

by Nicole Dere

  So far so good. Ant had been far from enthusiastic about this second tryst, but he knew when someone had his balls in an iron grip, metaphorically speaking. It was Onama’s second problem that was quickly becoming a more threatening nuisance, caused by the intransigence of the young man, Patrick Odhiambo. Onama had hoped he had frightened the schoolboy sufficiently to deter him from further action, and for a while it did indeed seem that he had succeeded. But the youthful heart, or maybe the regions anatomically somewhat lower, won over the brain which should have urged abiding caution, and Odhiambo turned up again, threatening to take his St George-like rescue attempts of the fair maiden Janet Thoroughgood further, such as involving the central government by approaching his local MP, another northerner with an even more imposing belly, along with the power to match.

  ‘Look! You’re wasting your time!’ the police chief told him, his growing impatience becoming more evident. ‘She’s there because she wants to be, just like she said, whatever kinky sex games they get up to. Bald head, nakedness and all! She even tried it on with me. Offered to let me play sex with her, right here in the office! Those white bitches, man! They have no decency at all. If you want to fuck her, go out there and ask. I’m sure she’ll be only too keen to oblige. But don’t blame me if you get a bullet up your arse from Van Reis. You make trouble, and if I arrest anyone it will be you, my boy!’

  Above all, Onama did not want this overgrown schoolboy queering this new and exotic pitch. The Commandant made a third trip out to the office and workshop at the stock farm outside town. ‘I am here in a purely private capacity, as your good friend,’ he smiled, when they were safely behind the closed door of the tiny room. Onama’s bulk settled uneasily into the former car seat which served as a couch, and which groaned with audible protest under its burden. ‘There is this fellow who is making big trouble – or will do if I don’t shut him up. He says he knows your little bald malaya.’

  A visible redness swept up Ant’s already deeply tanned features. ‘She’s not a whore! She’s a friend. A good friend!’

  ‘And your other naked play fellow? The pretty guy who was in the play with her? Just how good a friend is he? You should be more careful. I’m your friend too – and a very good one. You know in our country, what you call “gay” is forbidden. In fact it is a capital offence. You could hang for it.’

  ‘It’s nothing like that!’ Ant glared at him, his face even redder. ‘He’s Jan’s ... partner. They sleep together.’

  ‘Yes!’ Onama sneered. ‘I know. In a cell off the kitchen. Like servants – only worse. What is it called? Sex slavery?’ He held up his hand to halt Ant’s interruption. ‘Don’t waste your breath denying. This schoolboy – he has been out to your home. He saw them both. They begged him to go before anyone saw him. He says they were terrified. Personally, I think he has jig-a-jigwith Janet Thoroughgood. From when she was a teacher there, before her husband threw her out and you took her in. Along with the beautiful Clio. And this naked man, Jan’s partner? Isn’t he in fact Clio’s husband? Yes, my friend, I think you should be very careful indeed. And listen to my advice, otherwise you could be in boiling water.’

  Ant was not much of a diplomat, and despite his sense of danger, his patience was rapidly dwindling. ‘Look! You know our setup at home. Goddamn it! You’ve had your way with Jan twice now. How do you think that’s going to look if the shit hits the fan and everything comes out? I’d advise you to shut this kid up pretty quick, whoever he is. Surely you can scare him off? Toss him in the cooler for a night or two. Beat the shit out of him. That’s what you usually do, isn’t it? Or send him out to my place. He’ll get more than he bargained for this time, I promise.’

  ‘I think he got that the last time he visited you! Perhaps you should let Janet deal with him. She’s a mighty persuasive girl. I should know!’

  He grinned, and Ant clenched his fists and had to fight hard to master his temper.

  ‘I’ll do what I can,’ Onama rumbled, heading for the door. He turned before stepping out into the yard. ‘I’ll be in touch.’

  The significance of his final words was not lost on Ant as he watched the bulky figure striding across to his vehicle. He watched the Jeep drive away. He stood staring after it until the pale orange cloud of dust it raised had settled. He glanced around the little kingdom he had built up for himself during the long years since he had left his family far behind down south. All at once the whole solid structure of his life here felt as though it had shifted. Things had become far too complicated, with Clio and that pathetic little pouf of a husband hanging about like some favourite eunuch, and Jan just as weird – she enjoyed having her head between Clio’s legs and her tongue way up her twat just as much as she did shagging him – or any other male with a big dick, of whatever colour. It’s getting more bother than it’s worth, he thought grimly as he prepared to head for home. Home! For the first time in years he found himself thinking wistfully of the girl and baby daughter he had left 2,000 miles behind all those years ago.

  ‘What the fuck have you been up to, you stupid little slut? You want to get us all deported? Or thrown in jail to rot away for years?’

  Jan sprang up from where she was sitting at the foot of Clio’s chair gently massaging the bare feet and slender legs of her mistress, who was lying back in the cushions idly flicking through a magazine, and enjoying her faithful attendant’s ministrations. Clio sat up in some alarm too. She was wearing a simple dress, but her hair was carefully arranged, her light make-up perfect, and she was fragrant from her early evening bath. ‘Ant! What on earth’s the matter? You’re late. Have you been drinking?’ It was obvious that he had, from his flushed complexion, his dangerously glittering gaze, and the whiff of alcohol which drifted ahead of him.

  He ignored her question, brushing it aside with a sweep of his hand. ‘Come on! Tell us! Who’s this watuschoolboy you’ve been screwing around with when our backs are turned? Just can’t get enough cock, eh? Is that it?’ He turned with an ugly grin to the startled Clio, who was sitting bolt upright now, perched on the edge of her seat. ‘Yes, my love. Just when she’s got you firmly won over to her lesbian ways, turns out she still can’t get enough of what you won’t ever be able to give her. So she’s been bringing in her buddies from the bush for a good seeing to whenever we’re not around. And what about that pimple-dicked little scrote of a partner of yours? He does your pimping for you, does he? Goes out touting for custom – make sure they line up in an orderly queue? Takes the tickets at the door? Where is our little eunuch then?’ But Marty had already appeared in the doorway, wide-eyed with fear at Ant’s belligerent mood. ‘Ah, there you are! Where the lezzes are, their little catamite can’t be far behind!’

  ‘Please–’

  ‘Shut it! Come on then, Jan. Surely someone with a tongue as glib as yours can answer a simple little question! Oh, of course! You don’t normally use it for talking, do you?’

  Jan was standing, her hands in front of her loins, the fingers twisting and laced together. ‘Please ... his name was Odhiambo. He came here – from my old school. When I was with Patrick. I don’t know how he found me. I was scared he would make trouble ... for you ... for all of us. So I – I talked with him. Sent him away. He promised–’

  ‘Talked? Hah! What did you say to him? Put it here, big boy! There’s room for plenty more!’

  Jan’s pale head went down. She began to cry, desolate, childlike sobs that made her breasts and shoulders shake. ‘I didn’t know – what else – I’m suh – sorry.’

  Clio sprang to her feet and grabbed hold of the weeping figure, pulled her close. ‘Why didn’t you tell us, you silly cow?’ But her voice was gentle, her embrace tender. Still holding her, she looked across at Ant. ‘Stop yelling at her! She’s said she’s sorry. I thought you’d sorted it out. The bwana mkubwa! The big man! Letting that oaf Onama shag her – twice! I thought that was supposed to solve everything?’

  ‘So did I! Till he came back and told me about this kid she�
��s been fucking too! A kid who could make big trouble for all of us. He’s going around telling everyone we’re keeping these two as slaves. He’s threatening to go to his MP if Onama doesn’t do something about it. We could land up in jail, all four of us – and I’m not kidding! So looks like you’re going to have another regular customer to add to your list, sweet pie!’ He flung Clio’s term of endearment for Jan and Marty back in her face, and Clio turned on him with matching fury.

  ‘For Christ’s sake, shut up! Go and get under a cold shower, try to sober yourself up, you big oaf! You might be able to bully these two poor little sods but it won’t work with me, bwana!’ But she was startled, and then afraid, at the lightning speed with which he leapt forward and enclosed her thin wrist in an iron grip. His other hand snatched at Jan and both women found themselves being dragged at breakneck speed along the corridor to the master bedroom, while over their shrieks and cries Ant snarled at the goggling Marty, ‘Bring a roll of parcel tape off the shelf. And jump to it or I’ll flay the skin off your backside too!’

  Despite her shock and pain, the import of his words was not lost on Clio. In all their passionate relationship, he had never shown violence towards her, or at least none that she had not enticed him to with deliberate provocation. Spanking had been part of their love play, even if it was boisterous enough to make her bum glow and smart, and left multi-hued bruises the day after. Even if it brought ready tears and yelping obscenities of protest, it added the necessary flavour for the most extreme physical satisfaction for both of them which inevitably followed.

  Somehow, though, Clio knew this was different – a new departure. He was brutal, and ugly, and it scared her. She had suspected his propensity for such behaviour. It had been one of the exciting things about him she had sensed in the early days of their relationship. She could not help but recognise it, from her own predilection, and it had thrilled her. But this reality was a step too far. The way he flung the sniffling Jan down across the covers, then ripped Clio’s dress, and then her bra and pants from her, with those great red hands that she feared might so easily clench into fists and batter her to bloody subjection. So she lay putting up no more than a token resistance as he stripped her then flung her on top of Jan. The two nude forms clung together, their sobs instinctively muffled, aware that submission was the wisest – the only – course open to them.

  Marty stood there, cringing too at this unlooked-for brutishness, obedient to Ant’s every command, as were the girls, whimpering softly as they obeyed each snarled instruction. They held up their arms, hands together, all four of which were bound tightly about the wrists by the trembling Marty, then their interlocked ankles, taped up in a similar manner. Finally a strip of tape was fixed carefully over each quivering mouth. ‘Just to help keep the noise down,’ Ant smiled madly. ‘Because, believe me, you’re going to howl, my little bitches. And how!’

  He positioned them across the bed, with Jan lying on top, the length of their bodies pressed intimately together, their tear-soaked faces rubbing together. If it were not for the smothering tape over their mouths, their lips would have been joined too. Jan’s bottom clenched until deep hollows formed in each buttock. Clio felt the pubic bone pressing against hers in weirdly arousing lasciviousness. Then the first flaming cut from the thin belt Ant wielded descended across the centre of Jan’s behind, sent a flare of fire throughout her modestly fleshed tight backside. The pain spread in rivers through every nerve. The cords in her thin neck stood out as she twisted, her body arched, and Clio felt the frantic movement transmitted to every point of contact, even to the writhing feet that tangled like narrow roots. A deep, muffled cry of agony transmitted itself. Clio felt it, in her own breast and belly and cried in sympathy. Five more savage cuts were endured, which left a raw pattern of ridged weals on the pale flesh before Ant brutally reversed the positions of the tethered bodies, and Jan’s lacerated buttocks were seared by the soft touch of the springy mattress beneath them, while the weight of the taller figure pressed down on her now, with that weird firing of sexual excitement at such intimate and total, inescapable contact. The rain of fire cracked and sliced and branded Clio’s fuller, more substantial behind with its scorching pain that made the two bound bodies arch and twist and jerk in cruel mockery of all the abandon of loving they had so often shared.

  Chapter Twenty-four

  IT WAS BEWILDERING HOW swiftly the unique insulated world the quartet had enjoyed collapsed. Ant Van Reis left again as soon as he had finished thrashing the two figures still pinioned to each other on the bed, though they were scarcely aware of his departure at the time, lost as they were in the throbbing pain that made every move a fresh shooting agony. They managed to wriggle onto their sides, still intimately joined from head to toe, and their tears mingled as their lips touched. Clio’s mental anguish was almost as severe as the physical torment of her lacerated bottom as she tried to take in the shock of what had happened to her. For all the robustness of their love play, Ant had never used a violence whose chief intention was to inflict pain. If anything, it was hercorporal punishment of their two minions which had sometimes made him uncomfortable with its sadistic intensity. It had made her feel ashamed in the aftermath of one of her outbursts, for which she had sheepishly and penitently apologised. So this unique turn of events was doubly shattering for her, as she began at last to recover from the first stage of stunned horror and throbbing hurt. It was worsened by finding herself literally shackled to Jan, and naked like her two companions. Her whole status had been destroyed by Ant’s fury; his stripping her and tying her to Jan had reduced her to the level of the two who had, willing or not, been their virtual slaves.

  Just how far their servility had been instilled in Jan and Marty was emphasised by the fact that even after Ant’s abrupt departure, Marty stood trembling and gazing impotently at the two entwined females without any thought of moving to assist them, until Clio groaned, ‘For fuck’s sake, Marty! Get us out of this!’

  His efforts to free them took longer than it had to tie them together, but eventually he succeeded, with the help of a pair of Clio’s nail scissors, to pick and cut his way through the layers of sticky tape and set them free. Seconds later they were both lying on their stomachs, still groaning and crying softly, side by side, while Clio moaned out instructions for him to bathe their wounds, and then to slather their posteriors with plentiful layers of fragrant moisturiser. Though their bums flinched and quivered and tightened at his gingerly laid on hands, and they whimpered in protest throughout his mercy errand, they were too beaten, both emotionally and literally, to put any real venom in their objections. There was both defeat and pathos in her weary tone when Clio finally murmured her few broken phrases of gratitude for his attentions, so that Marty felt his eyes mist and his throat close with compassion for the forlorn figure.

  Though he had largely forgotten it over the long months of his and Jan’s subjection, Clio was still technically his wife. He was taken aback by the strength of tenderness he still had for her. It was very different from the closeness he felt towards Jan, intimate as that was. There had always been a special sense of equality with her, even in those distant days of their amateur theatricals, when they were part of that conventional world outside, before they had become the possessions of the dynamic couple who had come to rule their lives. He had never thought of himself as Clio’s equal, at any moment of their long association. That was why it was doubly distressing to see her brought so low by her lover’s unforeseen violence and rage towards her.

  Both he and Jan were all too aware of the catastrophe which had descended on their strange little enclosed world, and they longed for the security they had known in their serfdom. The weeping Clio was no longer their mistress. Naked, tearful as they were, her behind livid with the raised weals of Ant’s brutal whipping, just like Jan’s, she was at one with them in their misery and anxiety. Both Jan and Marty tried their best to console her, lying either side of her on the bed, caressing and comforting, str
iving to reassure her and themselves. ‘It’ll be all right,’ Jan murmured, her lips close to the tearstained cheek. ‘I’ll find Odhiambo. Commandant Onama will help. I’ll talk to him, to both of them. I’ll make sure ...’ she faltered, felt herself blushing, her embarrassment at odds with the rousing spectacle of their unclothed bodies in such close contact.

  ‘No! Please!’ The fact that she was pleading instead of commanding indicated how drastically Clio’s relationship with the other two had changed. ‘Just wait. Let’s just stay here – together, all three of us. Until Ant comes back. Once he’s cooled down ...’ The tears came again, choking off further words, and she reached out, gently hugging them to her. The uncertainty of her incomplete sentence reflected the fear all three shared at the drastic changes which had overtaken them.

  Darkness fell and still they lay huddled together on the bed. The comfort they derived from the contact of their naked bodies had nothing to do with sex but everything to do with their need for tenderness, and for some sort of security. All three stiffened suddenly as they heard the noise of someone entering the living room, but they quickly realised from the clatter of crockery and the voices that it was Adamu and Muriamu starting to prepare dinner. Clio groaned. ‘Oh God! I couldn’t face ... Marty, would you go and tell them not to bother? Tell them to fix some salad or sandwiches or something, then they can go. Have the night off.’ She gave a bitter little laugh. ‘They probably heard all the row. I must have screamed my head off.’ Somewhat reluctantly, Marty began to lever himself up, and Clio reached out. Her hand fell across his wrist. ‘Bless you, darling. I don’t know what I’d do if you two weren’t with me.’ The tears rose yet again, and she gave way to them, almost with a sense of decadent luxury, and buried her head in Jan’s warm breasts, welcoming the thin arms that drew her protectively in.