The Naked Prey

The day had begun like any other day.

At 6am the dawn chorus had woken us to make sure we wouldn't miss the glorious sight of an African sunrise. I never missed it, or the sun setting. It was something I looked forward to every day.

Then I remembered where we were and why.

'Fuck!'

Tom looked forlornly at the front tyres of the Land rover.

'One puncture is bad luck,' he said just like he'd done last night. 'But two is like bad witchcraft.'

There'd been no point in just changing the one spare. We'd decided to wait until morning to try and find help. Both our cell phones had run flat so the only option was to leg it to seek assistance.

We set off soon after breakfasting on bread and jam and water. There wasn't a cloud in the sky. It would be very hot in an hour or so and our reserves of water were sparse.

The sweat trickled down our brows beneath our cotton hats. It was hard going. The sun beat down mercilessly.

'I'm dreaming of an ice cold beer,' Tom murmured after an hour-and-a-half's walking.

It was mostly grassland interspersed with thick bush and it wasn't until nearly lunchtime when I spotted a thin wisp of smoke.

'Civilisation!' I said, pointing.

It was sardonic. There's not much civilisation by Western standards in the bush in Africa.

We headed towards the signs of human settlement, pleased we would soon be assured of some kind of assistance.

'I bet they'd give you a good time,' I joked, after we spotted a crowd of African women in the distance. Most were wearing modern-type clothes; tight jeans, slacks and skirts.

Some of the abodes were square-shaped with corrugated tin roofs while others were round with thatched roofs.

'My wife will kill me if she ever found me straying,' Tom said. 'But you're more than welcome.'

'Sonia would do the same,' I replied.

Although I liked African women my fiancée is the jealous type and any hint of hanky-panky and she'd be off like a shot. Besides I love her a lot and I hoped both the girls had by now raised the alarm about us missing.

'What the fuck...' Tom began to say as saw the black women grouped round a shape on the ground. Whoops of excited chatter, laughter and chuckling came intermittently from the females.

What was actually going on was still unclear due to the shadow from the grove of mango trees obscuring much of what was occurring. We couldn't even see much of what was happening because of where the women were crouched or sat. There were about eleven of them. And they all looked like big black Amazons.

What we saw next shocked me to the core.

As we drew nearer I could see a black man partially hidden by the bodies of the black women. Although it was unbelievable it appeared he was staked spread-eagled, naked, to the ground. His ankles and wrists were secured to wooden pegs. Four women were each sitting on his arms and legs, with another one right on his chest, while the others crowded round.

Then we were spotted.

'Mzungu!' shrieked a woman pointing at us.

The others turned and cried out excitedly, 'Mzungus!'

[Mzungu is the name given to whites by Africans. It is a term combining both admiration and distain at the same time, depending on the gender of the speaker. If an African female offers it the term leans more towards admiration than the latter.]

Both of us sensed trouble at the same time.

'Something's very not right!' Tom exclaimed.

'Oh fuck!' I cried out at precisely the same time, then turning.

'Run!' I cried, terror gripping me like a vice.

When you're scared and trying to run from danger your legs turn to jelly. But you've got to break through that and just go as fast as you can.

I hared off, with Tom following me back the way we'd come. I was faster and Tom trailed behind. The women chasing us were far fitter and stronger-legged. Two dived at Tom bringing him down in a cloud of red dust. Three were gaining on me fast and as I turned to see how close they were I was suddenly swamped by three strong and muscled black female bodies. I hit the ground hard and before I could move anything I had two heavy black women sitting on me, with one tying my hands behind my back. They were grinning and chatting in Swahili, looking down at me with relish.

'We mean no harm,' I said in bad Swahili. 'Please let us go.'

They ignored us, giggling and dragging us back to their village. We passed the crowd of women by the mango trees and saw clearly what was happening.

What they were doing to him was unbelievable. The poor soul was helplessly pegged to the ground on his back, naked, and the women were taking it in turns to suffocate him with their hands. Whenever he turned a deeper shade of black the women screamed with delight. I couldn't believe what I saw next. One of the women sat her huge bulbous bottom right down on his face before he had a chance to breathe properly. They all thought this was hilarious.

'We'll have to get away from here,' I said to Tom, who was being dragged to a small hut no bigger than a large kennel.

'You'll get your chance, Whitey,' one of my Negress captures told me, grinning. It always surprised me when an African in a deep rural place spoke English.

She was two inches taller than my six feet and her breasts and buttocks bulged ominously. Her hair was braided into streaks running across her head, tied into a tuft at the top. She had a permanent smirk on her face.

I was taken to another kennel-type hut and locked inside. It was no more than four feet tall and I had to either sit or crouch. Peals of laughter and female chatter prompted me to see if I could see the events taking place outside through the cracks in the timber.

The scene had changed. There was only one woman sitting astride the man. She sat heavily on his stomach, facing him, a foot placed on each of his helpless arms. The onlookers all looked on with a mixture of excitement, wonderment and amusement.

The man's bloodshot eyes were protruding grotesquely while the grinning female firmly held both hands over her victim's nose and mouth. This went on for ages, with him squirming as best he could beneath her. Her strong hands held his head in an upturned position while all the time he tried to wrest his face from her tormenting palms. Peels of laughter followed his pitiful gaspings in between her smothering him.

It was hot in the hut but not as scorching as outside in the open sun. Thankfully shade from some trees cooled the kennel, making it almost bearable. I sat on the hard ground, moistening my parched lips with spittle and busied myself with trying to untie my hands from behind my back.

More shrieks of mirth caused me to peer through the slats. Now their victim had another Amazon squatting on his face again. This time she was facing his frantically flailing feet, grinning evilly at her laughing black sisters. Her backside was so big his entire head was almost obliterated. His futile struggles for survival brought even more merriment.

This was barbaric! How could one human being treat another in this way?

Frantically, I tried every way I could to free myself from my bonds. But the leather straps were too strong.

I noticed my taller captor looking in my direction, smirking. My heart missed a beat. I dared not contemplate what was going to happen to me and Tom.

As if drawn by some 'accident magnet', I couldn't prevent myself from observing the proceedings going on outside.

The Negress torturess rose from his choking and gasping face, much to the mirth of the on-looking Amazons.

Then I espied another African woman coming out of the largest of the houses. She was elegant and wore a white skirt which gently flapped when she move. Her wide hips and thick, muscled thighs indicated her bottom was going to be huge. From her demeanour I guessed she held a higher social status than the others.

No one else had touched the still panting man since the woman's entrance, as if by a common knowledge of future events. The poor fellow had by now managed to regain enough wind to be able to loudly plead with his captors.

I couldn't make out much because of my poor command of Swahili, but I knew he was begging for his life.

The other women enthusiastically greeted the woman. Then my fears were confirmed. When she turned her back to stand over him, straddling his head, I saw the size of her bulging, onion-shaped bottom pushing tightly against the skirt. He wouldn't stand an earthly chance of survival against that backside.

She grinned down at the shrieking man before crouching down to the cheers of the female crowd of spectators. Then, lifting up her skirt to reveal her vast naked posterior, she manoeuvred his head into a forced upright position with her feet. To my horror, she slowly sank down to obliterate his face with her black anal flesh.

Then she settled herself more comfortably and occasionally wriggled herself to extract more pleasure from the experience.