Escape From Zim'bwana

THREE WEEKS LATER...

Mikangu lay back on the deck. The sun was shining. It was just after dawn. His hands were pillowed behind his head as he watched his favorite slave-cunt. Jordan was grinding on his lap, her bound hands in front of her, pressed flat against his chest. Her cute tits were starting to heal from the bite marks, and the burn marks above her pussy didn't look quite so awful.

"Oooohhhhh.... Aaahhhh..."

Jordan's moans right now were pleasing to him; she had learned how to embrace her new life. It was amazing how adaptable the younger ones could be. They had trained her well, too. Her cunt would juice up nicely as they fucked now, and she dutifully sucked his cock each morning as his own personal sex-pet and alarm clock. Now, as she pumped her young pussy up and down his shaft like a worshipper trying to please her god, he thrust his pelvis up to meet her downward plunges. Soon he would gush inside his tight little 'cock-sheath' -- this being his new chosen pet name for her. Yes, this was the life. They were almost at the end of the Osandi River, and from there they had devised a way to buy their freedom. They had escaped the eruption of war in Zimbabwe and fled through Zim'bwana, and soon, very soon, they would have exactly what they needed.

"OOOOOHHH please come inside me, Master. Please, this cock-sheath needs her Master's cum," Jordan cooed.

Fuck, this girl had learned her place well. It was a thing of beauty. The other girls were not as easily tamed or trained.

Tied to wooden poles erected on the yacht's upper deck, others of the Brunstetter family were suffering. Gerald Bruntstetter was tied standing to one of the poles. His daughter, Dana, knelt now, hands tied behind her back, ankles bound to stakes set into the decking. She had been forced to kneel between his legs and suck his cock. Gerald's pained groans and attempts to resist pleasure intensified even as his 21-year-old daughter continued to press her lips in a tight seal around the girth of his penis, pumping her mouth up and down, up and down, in a never-ending rhythm. There was still a reluctance in Dana's eyes and inner revulsion at what they were making her do, sucking off her own father...but she was beginning to come around. There was hope for the bitch yet.

Besides the dad, Amy, Melissa, and Kacey had all remained the most resistant and recalcitrant.

Nbotu and Tuaca had Amy and Melissa tied standing to two separate poles, wrists bound behind them to the wooden pillars the soldiers had anchored to the deck. Using two makeshift whips, Nbotu lashed Amy while Tuaca lashed Melissa. Their shrill cries sailed over the river, but their wails held a forced note of pleasure too; the ruthless men had been rummaging through Melissa and Kacey's things below decks when they'd found two vibrators. They had then taped each vibrator between both Amy and Melissa's legs as they stood helplessly tied to the poles. The purr of the whirring vibes buzzing away against their clits sent unwanted arousal coiling through both females, their cunts dripping even as their breasts took the brunt of the lash.

Amy and Melissa had both been unwilling to eat out Gerald's ass. This was the mother and daughter's punishment.

As for Kacey, she was a plaything, an afterthought. With her wrists tied in front of her, the naked Indian girl knelt on all fours in front of Tuaca. Even as she knelt and watched her best friend from childhood getting her naked body whipped from head to toe, Tuaca shafted Kacey from behind, his balls tapping lightly on her thighs as her snug pussy accepted the full girth of his raping cock. Raping one girl and whipping another at the same time took skill, but Tuaca found himself up to the challenge. As for his cock, it was harder than ever.

"Please stop hurting her!" Kacey squealed, referring to her best friend.

"Shut up and squeeze your cunt muscles around my cock!" Tuaca roared back, giving the girl a hard smack on the ass. "Or do you want me to tie you spread-eagled to this deck and whip your pussy?"

Kacey looked over her shoulder at the man fucking her. "No, please don't, not that."

"Then move that pussy and fuck me while you watch me whip your cute friend. I'm not asking, bitch."

Head hanging with shame, the sexy Indian girl pushed her cunt back to meet Tuaca's thrusts, helping him rape her. She would never have admitted it to anyone, but a tiny part of her thrilled at the sensation of having his big cock slamming through her -- this huge male specimen, rippling with muscle, taking her and making her his. Since puberty, Kacey had held fantasies of being taken by force by a big, powerful man. Despite the nightmare she was living through, that instinct now called out through what was happening to her. She stifled the urge to moan, her cheeks red as her pussy moistened along the length of Tuaca's raping shaft. 'Fuck me. Rape me,' that inner voice inside Kacey now begged.

Meanwhile he reached underneath with one hand to fondle and squeeze Kacey's tits. He would alternate tit-squeezing with nipple-pinching. Pounding into her, he would stare at his fluid-coated cock and then send the whip snaking outward for another harsh lash across Melissa's now welt-covered breasts. Ten, maybe fifteen minutes passed.

Mikangu heard Tuaca groan and bellow like a beast. All that whipping and fucking must have been too much for him. Kacey now had another sticky cunt. She had whined to them many times now that they would get her pregnant. He wondered if the girl would be swelling with child by the time they sold her to the traffickers in South Africa.

They would have to lay low for a while. Yet the thought of eventually selling these cunts and getting the money they needed to truly be free sent Mikangu over the edge. He reached up, squeezing Jordan's little tits as he spewed like a volcano inside his 18-year-old cock-sheath. The teen girl sighed on his lap, relieved to please her Master. He pulled her down for a kiss now, loving the feel of her nipples rubbing against his chest, and inserted a finger into her ass. He loved the way she groaned into his mouth while he fingered her little asshole, the way she shivered at his touch.

"You people aren't human. You're monsters. You're worse than monsters," Amy cried out, her breath ragged and hoarse from screaming once Nbotu's arm finally grew too tired to wield the whip. Even as Amy said that, her shattered mind barely holding it together, she glanced over to see her husband Gerald groaning and spasming, his cock shooting its load in their daughter's mouth. Dana gulped down every drop, swallowing like a pro. She knew that only then would her captors let her off of her knees, which were killing her so bad now that she could hardly move.

"Yes, American bitch, we are worse than monsters. And this monster cock wants to take another dip in your pussy," Nbotu growled. Yanking away the vibe taped to Amy's cunt, he tossed it aside like trash. Now, lifting up Amy's hips, he inserted his raging hard-on between the woman's labia and thrust upward, filling her cunt with a potent plunge, fucking her now like a champion, his muscular buttocks clenching up as he pounded her without the slightest trace of tenderness. With Amy's wrists tied behind her, she could only look into the eyes of the man raping her. He leaned down, sucking on her tits, biting her nipples hard as she wailed with his cock inside her. Amy Brunstetter wailed at the world. She wailed at the harshness and unfairness of it all, and at the loss of the family she loved...

SEVERAL MONTHS LATER IN SOUTH AFRICA...

"Is the merchandise acceptable?"

Tuaca, Mikangu, and Nbotu were almost done carrying out their plan. They had fled Zim'bwana, escaped from the crazy rebel general and his civil war. They had no wish to die. Nbotu had contacts in South Africa, and they were meeting with these men now. A short, fat man with a broad, flat nose and beady eyes stared at the five naked females and the naked male. All had their wrists bound behind their backs, with more ropes connecting their ankles together so that they could barely more than shuffle forward.

The moon hung in the sky like a giant oval lantern. Insects chirped. Reeds rustled in the night breeze. The waves lapped at the pier along the South African coast. A few well-armed men stood guard near their 'merchant of the skin trade,' the fat man with the beady eyes.

The fat man walked down the line of girls.

"Please don't sell us. Please Sir. Please, I was a good slave. Please don't do this!" Jordan begged Mikangu. The fat man paused, pinched her nipples roughly, and she immediately went silent with a tiny gasp.

"This one seems the perfect age, but her tits are small and she's a little mouthy. I'll give you $500 for her."

He proceeded to the middle sister, Melissa, stroking the girl's pussy and enjoying her reaction of reluctant pleasure and discomfort. She moaned, and after he kept caressing her clitoris she eventually shuddered, gushing on his fingers. "Hmmm. I'll give you $800 for this pale pussy. She will go well in one of the warlords' pleasure harems."

Then he walked up to Kacey, squeezing the girl's breasts so hard she cried out.

"Oh, this one has a good voice on her. I know many men who would love hearing this bitch sing under the lash. And a legendary pair of tits too, good for sucking on, whipping, and piercing. I'll give you $1000 for her."

Next he came to Dana. The fat man looked thoughtfully at her, then slid his belt off, pulled his pants down, pushed her up against the wall of the hut perched at the edge of the pier, and shoved his cock right up her pussy. Dana gasped, her bound hands and ankles not letting her do much. It was a tight fuck, her legs pressed together and his cock lancing between her thighs. At last he grunted, growled, and came, withdrawing his now shiny cock.

"I had to try out one of them," he said apologetically, "just to be sure of their quality. She's a fine fuck. I'll give you $1750 for her because of her ideal body type." Lastly he came to Amy. The mother of three girls was a mere shadow of her former self. She didn't even respond to the fat man as he stroked her nipples and clit, and when he leaned forward to kiss her, she just mechanically let him.

"This slut is past her prime. Tits still perky, but that attitude, hmmm, I think I'll sell her to one of my rougher clients. Maybe if she has her ass branded or tits burned with cigarettes, she will at least show a reaction."

"This is perhaps our fault," Nbotu admitted. "We have whipped her so many times, she has grown used to the constant pain. You will have to find clients willing to discover new ways to abuse the white whore."

"Oh, don't worry," the merchant of skin said, "I sell to all kinds. There are many warlords and militant chiefs who would like a challenge to awaken and tame a bitch such as this. I'll offer you $250 for this pussy."

Lastly, the beady-eyed trafficker came to Gerald. Poor, pathetic Gerald, with his drooping cock and downcast eyes.

"What do you expect me to do with THIS, eh?" the beady-eyed trafficker snapped.

Nbotu, Mikangu, and Tuaca exchanged sheepish looks.

"We thought we might fetch something for him."

"Well you were wrong. You should have just killed him. He is a waste of food and water." The merchant rubbed his jowly chin thoughtfully. "I suppose I can try selling him to one of the warlord's widows in the area; sometimes those older women are looking for a male slave to entertain them, at least until they grow too long in the tooth. I'll give you $25 for this one."

"Sold!" Nbotu, Mikangu, and Tuaca practically replied in unison.

-EPILOGUE-

Months passed, and the Brunstetter family was never heard from again. Jordan got sold to a brothel owner in Johannesburg. Stories among men in the city's seedy underbelly grew about the 'little white angel' who knew how to fuck. Pedestrians walking past the brothel would sometimes peer with morbid fascination through the wall-length display windows while a girl's loud moaning attracted their attention. There they would often see a tall black man standing and holding a fragile-looking and slender white girl with her arms lassoed around his neck, her ankles looped around his butt, hanging on for dear life as he bounced her on his cock. She lived out what days remained to her getting her pussy stretched by big, black cocks on a daily basis. Later rumors told of the same white girl accidentally getting impregnated by one of her clients. After squeezing out a big black baby, Jordan breathed her last.

Kacey and Melissa had better luck. They wound up in the same harem of a warlord who liked to sometimes play gentle and sometimes rough. The warlord's favorite torment was to make Kacey put on a strap-on dildo, with Melissa's pale nakedness bent over on hands and knees in front of her. He would force Kacey to then fuck her best friend Melissa hard in the ass while he placed his own cock at Kacey's puckered hole. Kacey would groan and beg, 'Please Master, be gentle!' but always he would fuck her hard and fast, his balls slapping against her ass cheeks. Finally, the erotic sight of watching Kacey ass-rape her best friend would make him release his seemingly endless spunk deep in the Indian girl's now torn asshole. Despite the occasional brutal ass-rape, though, both girls bore him several children and lived out their lives in relative comfort.

Dana's fate turned out bittersweet. A man of rough, taciturn personality who served as the chief bodyguard to one of the local warlords purchased her and took her as his second wife. He fell in love with her. Over time, she even learned to return his affection despite the sorrow of losing the rest of her family. The bodyguard had a wife, though, one with a naturally and fiercely jealous nature. She ruled the household in all things, even in the bedroom.

Many a night would see Lady Okanda give orders to her husband and his 'bitch white girl.' The bodyguard would lay on the bed while Lady Okanda had Dana mount her husband's cock in a reverse cowgirl position. As Dana slid her pussy up and down the straining phallus of the man she was starting to have feelings for, Lady Okanda's thin but cruel bamboo cane would lash across Dana's breasts. Her squeals and cries rent the night as she fucked. 'AY! Forgive this worthless white cunt for hogging your husband's cock!' Dana would be forced to shout between lashes, her tits shaking with each blow. In this way she pleased not only her husband, but more importantly the woman who co-owned her and held the true power.

Dana's new life was not without its consolations though. Dana bore her husband three sons. She learned to enjoy motherhood, and he was a good father and provider. Among all of the Brunstetters, Dana was the closest to finding a 'happily ever after.'

As for Amy, she wound up as a charity case, bought by a corrupt village elder who took pity on her. She served him well for the rest of her days, if not entirely lucidly. The elder loved the way she would methodically suck his cock and fondle his balls while he held back her hair, until finally she would gurgle loudly with her nose crushed against his pelvis. Then he would shout with pure primal joy and empty his seed in the back of her throat, leaving her coughing and nearly retching as excess cum flowed down her chin and onto her gorgeous breasts. Sometimes, after leaving her in such a state, he would forbid her from bathing for the rest of the day. It pleased him to see her walk around naked except for the dried cum which covered her. He would often tell her, 'My seed is the only clothing you will ever need, bitch.'

For the rest of her days, Amy obediently fucked him on command and did whatever she could to please him. The sad, vacant look in her eyes never quite went away. She thought often of her precious girls and what might have become of them.

As for Gerald Brunstetter? Somewhere in South Africa there is a beautiful, full-breasted widow who enjoys waking up to her 'boy-toy' westerner. She rides his cock each morning, making him wear a cock-ring so that he can never come. Once she is done gushing on his lap until his cock and testicles are awash in her fragrant fluids, she leaves him alone, tied to the bed, still unable to come, his testicles churning with unspent seed.

The fate of the Brunstetter family remains a cautionary tale. Know and learn about a country before you visit it or you may become a casualty of your own ignorance.

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THE END

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DISCLAIMER:

All characters in this story are 18 years of age or older. This tale is completely fictitious, and I do not condone any of the acts depicted. I hope you enjoyed the ending of Escape from Zim'bwana. Remember, it's good to indulge your darkest desires in a safe space -- and that's what this story represents.

Hugs & kisses,

Kitty