Victoria's Secret the Banana Problem

"Ahhhh! Stop! Stop!! Please! I'll do it! I'll do anything you say!"

"What is it you'll do, girl?" Crawford said, laughing. "Tell us exactly."

"I'll suck your penis," Victoria sobbed. "I'll suck you off, every last one of you. And I will swallow every drop!"

"Yes, you will, you stuck-up little bitch. You will suck us, and beg for more. But first, you will be whipped, like the naughty slave girl you are."

SNAP!

It was hard to say which was louder, the crack of the whip or the scream, but hearing them both together I wished I had brought earplugs. I felt relieved when the instructor took the whip from the boy and handed him a roughly hewn stick attached to a rope. I watched as he went around to the front of Victoria and put the stick between her teeth. She tried to struggle, but Dudu was no amateur, and he quickly tied the gag off, reducing Victoria's frantic pleas to comically unintelligible babble.

The teenager had barely stepped away when the master demonstrated his art on Victoria's naked ass.

CRACK!

CRACK!

CRACK!

Three strokes, perfectly spaced, right in a row. One might have supposed the audience would pity poor Victoria her scorched bottom, but in truth the opposite was the case. As she twisted her head around us I could see the large wooden stick had peeled her gums back over her teeth, leaving her mouth open in a perfectly ridiculous grinning rictus. As I watched her wiggle her big bottom and shout unintelligible pleas for mercy, I did what everyone else in the quickly growing crowd of spectators did: I laughed.

"Ha! Ha! Look at the little bitch twist her arse! She felt that, she did!" Mr. Crawly spat.

"Yes, nicely done, old sport," Lord Humphrey said. "Let's take that big bottom of hers out for a nice long ride."

"Yes indeed, quite right," Colonel Masterson agreed. "Lay them on smartly. Show her who's in charge."

Taking the whip from his master. The young man earnestly tried his hand at his apprenticed trade.

WHIP!

WHIP!

WHIP!

WHIP!

Dudu did well, judging from Victoria's drool and frantic gibberish, although clearly he was not as skilled as his master.

"A little more wrist action, I think," Colonel Masterson said. "It's all in the snap."

"Yes, you must CRACK it across her bottom, so the little bitch feels it down to her toes," Crawford suggested helpfully.

The master took the whip back from his apprentice and taught him a new trick: two strokes, in rapid succession, the first causing Victoria to raise her bottom high, and the second actually cracking the whip between her bottom cheeks, skinning the exquisitely sensitive skin near her bottom hole!

"Bullseye!" Colonel Masterson said, laughing.

"Capital!" Lord Humphrey agreed, applauding as if he had just witnessed the winning volley in a tennis match. "She'll feel that one with every step."

"And with every shite," Mr. Crawley added crudely.

The older man explained the technique to the boy, miming the action several times before actually repeating the sequence in earnest.

CRACK!

Victoria's bottom raised up, spreading her cheeks wide, leaving her blow hole in full view.

CRACK! The second stroke of the whip tickled her anus, causing such a frenzy of head shaking and cries that I thought our little pony might bite through her wooden stick.

"Serves her right for showing us her little winker," Mr. Crawly chuckled. "Little whores who like to show off their butt knots should have them whipped."

Of course "like" had nothing to do with it, as Victoria's reaction had been entirely involuntary. In fact, knowing what was coming, I had watched her strain against it. However the crack of the whip was too strong to ignore, and when the next stroke came her resistance again vanished, leaving her open for yet another of the skilled whip master's "bullseyes."

The master handed his apprentice the whip, and the young lad had at it. He did well, but it was a difficult trick shot, and nearly impossible to time.

CRACK!

CRACK!

CRACK!

CRACK!

Each stroke caught her, but the second stroke never made it between her parted cheeks. Victoria's screams and pleas, unintelligible as they were, became even more frantic as her bottom became a criss-cross of whip marks.

It was a curious turn of events. Victoria was not being whipped into submission, for she had agreed to submit after the very first stroke. Nor was she being whipped as a punishment, for if correction were the goal the punishment would have ceased long before now. Victoria's naked bottom was merely target practice, a handy arse for a young apprentice's training.

CRACK!

CRACK!

CRACK!

CRACK!

An animalistic yelp erupted from Victoria and a cheer erupted from the crowd as the whip found it's mark, skinning her neatly between the cheeks.

"Well done, lad!" Lord Humphrey said, pausing the action long enough to hand the largely toothless but broadly grinning young man a gold £1 coin. "Do it again and I'll double it!"

The lad, now getting the rhythm of it, repeated his success.

CRACK! CRACK!

Another coin was dispensed.

CRACK! CRACK!

Another coin was offered.

I think this would have continued all day if there had not been a commotion at the end of the market. Two fair skinned Westerners, dressed in khakis and polo shirts, were led by two of the armed guards to Kaba's presence.

"My goodness," the man exclaimed, identifying himself immediately as an American by his slow Southern drawl. "What are y'all doing to that poor girl?"

"Silence!" Kaba replied. "I ask questions. Who are you? Why you here?"

"My name is Tim McNeely, and this is my wife Suzanne. We are missionaries from Mississippi, from the Redemption Crusade. We were looking for the Tendaba River Market."

"You have found it. Missionaries are not welcome here. Your church once came to my village, and gave medicine. You do good. So you are free to go. But you must leave immediately."

"Are these women slaves?" Suzanne asked, looking at the coffle of chained naked women.

"Yes, as you would be, if you had not helped my village. Now leave."

"Let's go darling," Tim said. "I told you that coming here was a mistake."

"But those girls! They're naked!" the woman protested. "Let me see them. How are we to help these people if we don't understand their ways?"

"Let's go, darling. Those men almost shot us. We may not be so lucky next time."

"Exactly," the woman replied. "We're not safe, except here. Particularly me. If someone else had captured us, I'd be a slave already."

"You would," Kaba said. "You are pretty, and American, with red hair. Good figure. You bring fine price at Port."

"Oh, yes, the Port Market!" Suzanne said. "In the city where we landed. I know where that is."

"Your group saved my father's life," Kaba said. "So you may go. The debt is paid."

"No! If you put us out there again we'll probably get lost, or captured again. Then what will become of me? I want to stay with you."

"I do not travel with white women," Kaba said. "Go."

"Some of those women in the coffle are nearly white," Suzanne protested. "Let me travel with them."

"If I did that," Kaba said, "you would travel as my slave."

"Good!" Suzanne said. "What better way to see what this place is like than to travel as a slave?"

"Darling, are you out of your mind?" her husband spat. "Those girls are naked!"

"Don't be silly; they're wearing shackles. Now be a dear and take my clothes and passport and such and meet me when I reach the market at Port."

Suzanne turned to Kaba, "I will be your slave until my husband can claim me at Port. Deal?"

Kaba paused and looked Suzanne up and down with a calculating professional's eye.

"Deal," Kaba said quietly.

Her obviously henpecked husband tried to argue but Suzanne already had her polo shirt off and was unzipping her khakis by the time he got the first sentence out. Still protesting, the men led him out of camp with her clothes in hand as they led her over to the fire for shackling.

"Oh, goody, my very own slave shackles! I've always wondered what this would be like."

"Now you will know," Kaba said quietly.

The diversion of the new slave girl's shackling had ended Victoria's whipping but not her ordeal. By the time I turned back I saw that Mr. Crawly had his pants around his ankles and my wife, still tied down over her punishment horse, was rubbing his plump penis over Victoria's trembling lips.

"You're a filthy little piggy," Crawly observed, "and I wouldn't let you near my bed without taking a coarse bristle brush to you to get rid of the scabies. But you do have a pretty mouth."

Victoria shuddered as Crawly leered down at her. "Open wide. Time to do what slave girls do best."

Victoria gagged as he slid his large, bulbous tool into her mouth.

"That's it, my little slave girl," Crawly sneered. "Wrap them' big plump black lips of yours around your master's dick. That's what yer' mouth is for, for all your fancy dresses and airs. We'll have no more chatter from you, looking down your nose at me. Now you can look down on my cock."

Victoria sucked him eagerly, far more eagerly than she had sucked me on our honeymoon when she deemed it an absolute necessity. The pony whip had made her eager to please, and strapped down as she was, with her crotch resting on the board and her freshly whipped bottom squirming in agony, the memory of what she had suffered was still fresh in her mind.

Crawly came, causing Victoria to sputter and choke as he shot his foul load into her mouth. She tried to spit it out, but some spilled out, forming a sperm icicle on her chin. With Crawly done Lord Humphrey unzipped his pants and began to fish out his tool, but she had a more pressing problem. Behind her, Dudu was fingering her pussy, and stroking his own member in preparation for entry.

"Please!" Victoria pleaded, gasping as the toothless black teenager fingered her wet pussy. "Don't let him take me...bare. I took my last birth control bill days ago!"

Lord Humphrey smiled down at her as he wiped a little drop of his pre-come across her trembling lips. "A week, even a month, isn't THAT long", he said philosophically. "Perhaps you'll have some residual protection." He smiled. "Then again, perhaps not."

"Please! Don't let me him enter me...without protection."

"You should have thought of that sooner, I'd say," Colonel Masterson observed. "Should have taken a pill or something this morning. But why is that my problem?"

"Quite right," Lord Humphrey agreed. "A matter of personal responsibility, is it not?"

I admit I hadn't thought of it that way, but there was something about Lord Humphrey's commanding and patriarchal tone that made everything he said sound like perfect sense.

"Please. Don't let him come inside me! I need protection!"

"Oh, like one of these?" Lord Humphrey said, playfully taking a condom out of his wallet. "Should I ask your gentlemen caller to wear this?"

"Yes, please!" Victoria pleaded. "Give it to him!"

"GIVE it, you say?" he said, looking down at her disdainful look. "Yes, girls of your sort are always looking for someone to GIVE you something. I will sell it to you, for 50 pence. A most reasonable price, under the circumstances."

"But...but I don't have any money!" Victoria sobbed.

"Yes, of course you don't," he scolded. "Dirty little slut running around naked with your legs open and your dirty little snatch wet and wide. Always looking for a handout! Well, you won't get one today."

Seeing the chance for a stern moral lecture Colonel Masterson rose to the occasion. "You see, girl, if we simply GAVE it to you, you'd learn nothing about consequences, or the value of money. But if we let the chips fall where they may you'll learn your lesson, and learn it well, I'm afraid."

Victoria looked up at him, speechless. Not only was she being denied a rubber, she was being lectured using precisely the same language she so often used. Unfortunately for Victoria, the consensus was unanimous.

"Quite right," Lord Humphrey agreed. "Make the little slut ride bareback."

"Yes, that's right," Mr. Crawly sneered. "Don't give her a glove. If she gets preggers it will be a lesson to her."

Victoria's protests became a mute point as the laughing lad entered her wet pussy smoothly from behind even as Lord Humphrey stuffed his weathered but hard member into her mouth.

Lord Humphrey teased Victoria mercilessly as she sucked him off.

"That's right, suck your master's pecker like the lollipops or sweets I used to give you when you were a child. I'll give you a nice big load of tasty white cream to gargle with, and I want you to swish it around in your mouth and get a good taste before I tell you to swallow. Then the bright eyed young man who lashed your bottom will shoot a nice big load of baby batter into that hot, wet, unprotected pussy of yours. Don't worry if he doesn't knock you up straight away; there's plenty more bucks where he came from. I'm sure one of their little baby makers will get in there and get the job done."

Sure enough, a line of black men had formed behind her, waiting for their chance to fuck her. There was another line forming behind Colonel Masterson, who was waiting for Lord Humphrey to finish so that he too could enjoy Victoria's mouth.

As the men fucked her, Victoria strained to lift herself off the wooden board, longingly eyeing the condom laying in the dirt even as she sucked.

A rubber! A rubber! My kingdom for a rubber.

Satisfied that Victoria would be occupied for some time to come, I wandered over to refill my canteen.

The sales were brisk, and Kaba unloaded about twenty girls, and bought three more lighter skinned girls he felt more fit for the market at port. As I filled my canteen Kaba told me that we were going take yet another detour to yet another market.

"They do brandings there," he said casually. "First rate work." I said nothing, but tensed as I remembered that Victoria's branding had merely been postponed until we reached a place where it could be done properly. Such a place was now only a day's walk away.

I heard a girlish cry, and turned back to see the cause of the commotion. Suzanne, who a few minutes before had been a proper missionary, was now a naked and shackled slave girl, surrounded by an excited crowed of laughing Africans. Her pale skin and lovely red hair fascinated them, and their hands were touching her everywhere: her hair, her arms, her back, her legs, her breasts, and of course between her legs. One man was comparing the lightly covered hair on her arm to his own bare arm, which had no hair. A group of women were kneeling in front of her, laughing as they rubbed her sex and teased her clitoris out of hiding. Suzanne's face was nearly as red as her hair, but it did not matter. Now she knew what it was to be a slave girl.

Part of our journey would be during the day, and Kaba had asked me if I wanted the already tan Victoria shielded from the sun like the other white girls, or answer the riddle Mr. Crawly had proposed by seeing how dark she might get. Victoria was quite tan already, and if she got much more tan she might actually pass for mixed. Or perhaps she might become darker still... This would lower her value, and with a lower price I might be able to manage a bid. Of course if she got too dark Kaba might not bother saving her for the port, and might sell her along the way, at a market where I could not trace her.

Knowing that I would never get the funds to bid on her, and worried about what cruel fate might await her if she was sold to Crawly, Masterson, or Humphrey, I struggled to decide. A few hours in the African sun might be all it took to lower her price. I could take a chance, and bet on my wife's honor that she had been telling the truth when she called Mr. Crawly a liar and protested her inherent whiteness. But if she got too dark...

Still a little darker, and I might be able to afford her. It seemed like a sensible approach, until I recalled the maid's comment that the sun "spoiled her like a banana".

I slept poorly, wondering what I should do. I needed to lower her price. But a spoiled banana could be very black indeed.