Victoria's Secret: The Donkey Cart

I must admit that I was of two minds regarding Victoria's demotion to the ranks of the African slave girls. While I recognized the harsh jolt to her self-esteem the loss of her to-the-manor-born white privilege caused, I knew her life long denial that such privilege existed meant that this was a lesson she needed to learn.

Her change in status was immediate. The white girls picked on the black girls, and her earlier snobbery with the other whites now cost her dearly. Patricia, the abducted school teacher, turned Victoria into her own personal pussy licker, and at every break where Victoria was not being fucked by one of the slave mongers one of the white slave girls would drag her over and put her tongue to work.

Victoria was able to take some pleasure when Patricia's sister turned up, accompanied by an African guide, and attempted to rescue her. Unfortunately for the two women the guide was easily bribed and Patricia's sister was summarily stripped naked and added to the coffle as another slave girl, her passport and purse and clothes finding their way to the fire. Victoria clapped and cheered as the woman was stripped naked, and her enthusiasm that did little to endear her to the other white women.

The truck I rode in was air-conditioned and had a small cooler of bottled water but watching the pack of dogs chase her was still exhausting. Victoria hated the dogs, and the way the one that took a shine at her constantly nipped at her heels. She liked her canine master even less when she realized she was helpless to evade his pursuit. Recalcitrant bitch that she was she weaved and dodged and tried to pull away, only to have the clever dog cut her off and heard her back where she belonged. After nearly an hour of this even Victoria began to comprehend who was in charge, and did her best to please him, much to his obvious satisfaction and her total humiliation.

After another hour of running we were met by another truck at a small roadside store, where I got myself a chilled bottle of Coke and the dogs were given bowls of water. Victoria and the other slave girls were permitted to kneel and drink at the animal trough. After several hours of running they drank eagerly, sticking their faces in to the water with their hands behind them and lapping it up as they had been taught. The trough was also being used by several goats, and did not look particularly sanitary, but the thirsty girls ignored their four legged companions and the naked livestock drank together.

Unfortunately for the thirsty slave girls the putrid water became even less appealing when a local teenager exiting the store decided to show off to his friends and peed into the trough the slave girls were drinking from, turning back to laugh and joke with his mates about "flavoring" the slave's water as he relieved himself.

None of the observers objected for it was clearly all in good fun, a harmless teenage prank of no consequence whatsoever. I laughed with the other spectators, for it was quite comical to see the dehydrated slave girls furiously lap like dogs even as the boy mocked them for drinking his piss and asked them how it tasted! It was a grand jest, but for some reason Victoria took umbrage and when the first boy exhausted his bladder and his friend took his place to fill the tank with his stream she raised her head and objected quite rudely to the lad's good natured fun.

One of the slavers moved in to whip the insolent, back-chatting slave's big round bottom, which was bare and pointed up and simply begging for the lash. But the boy she was yelling at had a more direct solution, and redirected his stream so that if filled her gaping, complaining pie-hole.

It was a hole in one, and Victoria got quite a mouthful and a couple of good swallows as to everyone's amazement she CONTINUED flapping her gums even as he doused her, futilely shaking her head and sputtering her objections even as she tried to avoid the noxious stream. To her credit she caught her instinctive reflex and did not cover her face, remembering that slave girls are forbidden from using their hands to cover themselves or resist any form of punishment. But her insistence on gargling her outrage meant she got a good mouth rinsing from the laughing teenager's forceful stream.

One of the other slaver's tossed Victoria a set of cuffs, and knowing what was expected of her she resisted the urge to wipe the urine off her face and instead locked her hands behind her back. Not wanting to sully his hands the slaver then secured the little piss-clown with an animal control pole, a long metal pole with a hemp rope noose on the end. The large slack loop slipped easily over her head, but once in place the slaver gave the other end of the cable a quick, sharp yank, eliciting first a panicked yelp followed by a comical little gurgle as the noose snapped tightly around the disobedient slave girl's slender throat.

The steel pole was about 1.5 meters long and had been designed for trapping large dogs or perhaps even lions or other large predators. Today it was going to be used to teach a defiant slave a lesson she needed to learn.

The crowd let out a collective chuckle and a few "oohs" as one of the other slavers uncoiled a long black whip, and laughed out right when the first harmless "test crack" through the air caused the slave animal at the end of the control pole to jump and gurgle as if she had actually been struck! Soaked in urine with her hands cuffed, her breasts and bottom bouncing as she gurgled and danced at the end of her stick, she was truly a ludicrous sight and I joined the crowd in laughing at her absurd pre-whipping dance.

Alas the next crack of the whip was not for show and hit her squarely across her big round bottom, giving the dirty slave something to dance about! Dance she did, gurgling and jerking, her right knee rising up to nearly the height of her jiggling breasts as she tried to stamp out the pain.

CRACK!

CRACK!

CRACK!

The crowd applauded each stroke wildly, cheering the whip master on, and even the barking dogs and bleating goats seemed to enjoy both his skill in whipping her back and bottom as well as her idiotic little dance. Still she resisted, and when one of the teenagers, a young man who I guessed to be about 19, came out of the crowd to squeeze her comically bouncing melons, she actually tried to kick him with one of her bare feet. The laughing boy easily dodged her, but the man holding her pole was not amused and bracing himself he arched the pole upwards until she was forced up on tip toe, and then her little toes left the ground!

If the foolish little slave girl's dance had been energetic before it turned positively frantic once her toes left solid earth. He bounced her on the end of the stick like a puppet as she kicked wildly, making a mockery of any notion of decency or modesty as the little slut showed the crowd everything between her widely splayed legs. She strained downward against the noose as her toes brushed the earth, only to be jerked skyward again as she strained to find support. Again, the crowd laughed and cheered at the fun.

After nearly a half minute of this he lowered her. She sank down with exhaustion, her knees wobbling as she caught her breath in relief. Her relief was short lived, however, as the muscular man was merely adjusting his grip. With another man joining him he lifted her again so her feet were nearly a half a meter off the ground!

Now she REALLY danced, her wrists jerking frantically against the steel cuffs. The crowd loved it, erupting in a cheer as she kicked her legs wildly. After a few seconds she lost all control, and began peeing wildly, causing the circle to expand somewhat as the crowd pushed back to avoid her wildly spraying stream.

As the crowd laughed I recalled Victoria's admonishment that "loafers on the dole should be hung in Piccadilly, with the hard working taxpayers like me getting some entertainment for our money as we watched them piss themselves."

Now the crowd was laughing at her. "Good girl! Water the daises!" a fat African matron shouted out, and everyone laughed. Water them she did, and I think she would have ended the day pushing the daisies up if the crowd had its way. When her kicking became less frantic Kaba gave the signal to lower her to the ground.

From his expression it was clear he had no sympathy for her, as her punishment was well deserved, but as a good businessman he realized that for the moment at least the little animal in the noose was more valuable as livestock than fertilizer.

A simple click of the release button on the control pole slackened the noose, but even after the hemp rope was jerked off her head the slothful slave girl lay in the dirt, wallowing in her piss soaked mud mess as if the day was over and there was no work for her to do.

Oddly enough as I watched the dark skinned girl lying in the dirt, panting like a dog as she struggled for oxygen, it was Victoria's own voice that came into my head. "The problem with darkies is their LAZY. Oh, they're clever enough in their own way, at stealing and such. But they'd rather just lay around then help themselves!"

Some of the other white girls came over to laugh. "Disgusting little piggy," Suzanne hissed. "Wallowing in her own filth!"

Patricia, Suzanne, and the other alpha girls formed a circle around the helpless slave girl and I could tell from the look in her eyes that Victoria was genuinely afraid. I briefly considered interceding, for I could have easily shooed them away, but I stood back, curious as to where this encounter might lead.

The psychology of the situation was fascinating. The white girls were naked, too, and had been forced to drink from the piss-flavored trough as well. Yet not a one of them expressed admiration for Victoria's bravery in confronting their tormenters. Indeed, they seemed to revel in her degradation. The psychology of their racism fascinated me. Shamed and humiliated, the only solace to the naked white slave girls was cruelty to one even lower than they.

"Lazy little slave monkey! Stupid, too. Talking back to the masters!"

"Yes, no brains at all. Nothing but shit between her floppy black ears," she said, punctuating the analogy by kicking dirt in Victoria's face.

"She'd eat her own slave apples if the masters let her."

"Lazy n***** bitch," one of them hissed.

At the use of the "n" word, Victoria shook her head violent. "No! Izzz... blanc," Victoria gasped, the irony of protesting her whiteness in African accented French lost on her. It was an interesting development - had being with the black girls caused her to adopt their mindset, even to the point of thinking in their language?

"The little jungle bunny thinks she can pass as white," an English girl with a lower class accent sneered. "No, no, no, my little black monkey. You'll be whipped for that."

"Yes, my little black banana," Patricia agreed. "You have gone bad now, and are all black. You will never be yellow again."

The banana reference surprised me, for I had not told anyone in our caravan about Victoria's adventures as a little girl, when her mother had complained that she had gone "black as a banana" when left out in the sun. Had Victoria confessed this to the white girls? If so, why?

This went on for several minutes, the white girls sneering at her blackness and predicting a delicious life for her "out in the cotton fields, where you nigras belong."

"Those beads are too good for the likes of you," Suzanne sneered, grabbing Victoria's foot. Victoria screamed and tried to resist, but when one of the other girls stepped forward to put her foot on her head, forcing her face into the pissy mud, there was little that she could do. She sobbed and screamed as they took her precious barefoot sandals, her only possession and her last link to her old life.

The cheap green beads were mere baubles, the sort of garish trash Victoria would never have been caught dead wearing in London. Now they were the whole world to her, and they were gone.

"These are WHITE GIRL beads," one of the women said, kicking the black slave girl in the side. "You have no business wearing those!"

"She probably stole them."

"Yes, her sort are natural thieves, always stealing white people's things."

"Yes, and even when you give them something they're too stupid to hold onto it."

Despite Victoria's copious tears I must confess I was amused and gratified to hear her own racist tirades thrown back at her with such vitriol and vehemence.

I looked towards the slave mongers to see if anyone would intercede. Although the slavers were black the hierarchy between white and black slave girls was strictly enforced because the white cargo was more valuable.

A few of the girls flicked clumps of her piss soaked mud on Victoria, until the men signaled it was time to move. It was only when the girls moved away from her that she dared to take her face out of the mud. I laughed out loud when I saw her, and was reminded of the mud baths she used to take at her luxurious spa, although at her private club her mud solution was not prepared with piss and tears.

The supplies being refreshed the coffle was now once again ready to move. Finishing my Coke I realized that the group was now splitting up, with the whites being loaded onto a truck bound for the port while the less valuable black cargo would travel by foot to one of the less selective interior markets. I knew it was a fateful split, for Kaba went with the more valuable white girls, cutting my only link with the one person who might vouch for Victoria's previous identity.

But did it matter? The naked, piss soaked negress laying in the dirt bore no resemblance to the fine English lady who had railed about "lazy blacks and pakis" from the private sanctuary of her exclusive club in London.

Traveling as a black girl would be harder, for the blacks were whipped harder, worked harder, and fed less than the whites, with no accommodations for the sun or the exhaustion of walking in a slave coffle all day. Paradoxically I knew it was the harsh unfairness of the sentence that made it just. Victoria's lies about her heritage and her racism in denying it had led her to her present state. I had wanted Victoria to darken, to lower her price so I could purchase her, but I never would have allowed her to travel through the sun unprotected if I had realized how dark she would become.

Victoria had lied about her blackness, hiding herself behind a façade of racist snobbery, but the unrelenting kiss of the sun had revealed her true nature to all. Victoria was black, and now she would pay the price for her lifetime of lies.

The irony was rich. Her own misbehavior had condemned her. Even if I had been so inclined it would have been impossible for me to argue that the urine-soaked negress laying in her own pissy mud pile was anything but what she was. No: Victoria was black, there was no doubt of that, and from this point on she would be treated as what she was.

As she watched the white girls pile onto the truck Victoria realized to her horror what was about to happen. The white girls were leaving! With no way to join the other group Victoria was now effectively an African slave girl, and would remain one, perhaps forever.

"Goodbye, Victoria!" Suzanne said cheerfully, waiving her slave beads. "Enjoy your life picking cotton!"

"Yes, and sucking white cock!" Patricia added.

"Suck it good and maybe the master will let you sleep at the foot of his bed, to keep you handy for late-night-sucks!" Patricia's sister added.

Raising her head she moaned in agony as the laughing, jeering white women bid her goodbye. The tears flowing out of her eyes as she watched the laughing white women recede into the jungle would be the only washing her muddy black face would receive.

Victoria was exhausted which was too bad as she and the other blacks still had several hours of running ahead of them. Fortunately the barking, snapping dogs helped her keep up the pace.

The next several days were fascinating to watch. With the white girls gone Victoria's rapid descent into slavery turned into a rapid free fall.

Already thin from her diet of slave gruel the extra effort of avoiding the snapping dogs at her heels thinned her quickly and I could soon see her ribs protruding from her sides. She cramped badly at night, and pressed tightly against the other girls for warmth she soon became infested with their lice. I must admit I found this amusing, remembering Victoria's hysterical reaction to flies and spiders and any sort of insect at a BBQ or picnic, and the verbal thrashing she gave the kindly old Willie, the black man who worked in our stables, when the horse poop was not picked up promptly and a fly was allowed to enter Victoria's domain.

"This will not DO," she would say, as old Willie apologized and scooped it up like a feces fireman.

I fought the urge to laugh as I watched her scratch her scalp and crotch, the only relief she had from the blood sucking of the vermin that now infested her hair and crotch. The chants she repeated were now all in French or one of the local African dialects, and I watched with fascination as she began not only to speak in these languages but think in them, the occasional English word being heavily tinted with a thick African accent.

Day-by-day, moment-by-moment, Victoria was being destroyed, and an African slave girl was taking her place. And under the sun's merciless rays, she was growing darker each day.

Although by every objective measure the lice infested slave girl was less attractive than before, I found myself irresistibly drawn to her. She masturbated herself incessantly and despite her degradation she was a randy, juicy slut. I had sex with numerous slave girls since our journey had begun, but determined not to reveal my identity I had not had sex with Victoria. Still, I desperately wanted to bend the dirty black bitch over and put her to her proper use.

My new hosts knew I was British, and was friends with the owner, and extended me every courtesy. But they knew nothing of Victoria's background, and I knew full well their hospitality would not interfere with their main purpose, the sale of the African slaves. This also made the game quite exciting, since I knew that Victoria's sale was now more of an inevitability than a possibility. She WOULD be sold; the only question was when.

There was a small mercy when along the way a truck caught up with us and the girls were deloused and disinfected. I say "small mercy" because Victoria hair was clipped short and the slavers, wearing masks to spared themselves the fumes, sprayed the girls down with a noxious high pressure chemical from a huge tank on the back of the truck.

Judging from the size of the tank and the pressure from the hose, I am guessing the truck originally had an industrial purpose, but this was not a problem as cleanliness was the goal rather than comfort. Directing the high-pressure stream of burning chemicals between the screaming girl's legs, against their hair, and between their butt cheeks disinfected the filthy little bitches well enough. After a few minutes to make sure the dirty sows were clean they were permitted to wash themselves in the creek. Victoria was free of lice at last, but was much the worse for wear.

The delousing had an unexpected benefit, for the men at least, for now that they were free of vermin the slave mongers were now free to fuck them.

And fuck them they did! I did not fuck Victoria, lest I inadvertently reveal my identity, but I watched closely each time Victoria was put to use. Sometimes they fucked her right on the ground, with her feet in the air and her legs wrapped tightly around her master; other time she was on all fours or simply bent over and fucked up her bottom or juicy twat.