Hilary Irvine's African Odyssey Ch. 01bydodgynubian©
The heat of the South African sun was oppressive inside the small office where BBC Reporter Hilary Irvine met her first contact. His name was Samuel Mbongo and he'd helped the Beeb out before, but this time he wasn't been so helpful.
"But Missy Irvine," he smiled in the big toothy grin only a black African can do, "smuggling you into Zimbabwe is dangerous! Yo is banned!"
"I don't care!" scowled Hilary, "if I can get an interview with this government opponent it'll be worth it!"
Two weeks ago she'd been contacted in her plush Cape Town hotel by someone claiming to have info about murders committed by the despot Robert Mugade, President of the living hell that was Zimbabwe. To meet the source Hilary would have to smuggle herself into Zimbabwe, a country where she'd been barred from entry after the government objected to her earlier reports. If discovered she'd be arrested and deported. But that was a price worth paying if Hilary could tell the world about the terrible human rights abuses that so moved her liberal conscience.
"Well?" she demanded thumping the desk with her small fist, "You're supposed to be a man who can fix things!"
Beneath the desk Mbonga's cock throbbed. He loved woman with attitude. That this particular white version was a good-looking blonde with big brown eyes and fabulous breasts was a bonus. But he did like her and as he was the only person in the room who thought that an unarmed white woman wandering around the African bush was a bad idea he persevered with his attempts to put her off.
"You might not be well treated if yo is caught!"
"Just get me in!"
"Fine!" Mbonga sighed holding up his hands in supplication, "I'll get a couple of men to help you."
A week later...
As Hilary emerged from the tent into the African dawn she yawned and stretched her arms, the movement highlighting her magnificent breasts as they strained beneath her cotton blouse. She smiled as she noticed that her companions - two black South Africans named Chester and Bibi - were not only up but rustling up some coffee.
"Here yo go, Miss Hilary," said Bibi as he handed her a cup.
His big hand was shaking and he smiled nervously as he did so. Bibi had a serious crush on his white employer. Even with her hair tied back and no make-up Hilary looked gorgeous. To Bibi's simple negro mind Miss Hilary was a goddess.
"No sign of him," grunted Chester as he chucked away the remains of his drink.
He too regarded Hilary with favour. But for him the desire was much more basic. He wanted to fuck the shit out of this white cock-tease.
"He'll come, don't worry," replied Hilary patiently.
"He betta come soon," growled the grim-faced black, "we is here illegal like."
Hilary sighed and ignored him. Chester seemed to be a negro of the surly kind, with a negative grunt his usual response. But even she was starting to grow concerned.
"We'll pack," she announced trying to sound positive, "so we can move off quickly if need be."
With that she rolled up her sleeping blanket and put it in the trailer.
As she bent over she was unaware that both Chester and Bibi were gazing in admiration at her juicy butt. Bibi fantasizing about gently squeezing those rounded cheeks, Chester wanting to rip her cotton pants off and ram his fat prick into her. No doubt she'd first object but pretty soon he'd be sure she would screaming in ecstasy.
It was Bibi who noticed it first. A column of dust revealing the approach of two 4x4 vehicles.
"Miss Hilary!" he cried, "dere is two cars a-coming!"
"Now we for it!" grunted Chester.
Hilary shot him a glare. Obviously this was her contact. And he'd brought a friend...
The vehicles roared up to where Hilary and the others were standing and then slewed to a halt. Thru the billowing dust Hilary could make out several figures getting out. With a gasp she saw who the biggest of the group was...President Mugabe himself!
Reeling from the shock Hilary was further perturbed to see that the others were all black women, their combat uniforms revealing themselves to be 'Zimbabwe's Daughters'- an all-women paramilitary unit fiercely loyal to the President.
"Long way from home, Missy Irvine!" grinned the Beast of Africa, " an' illegally so!"
"I-I am a journalist and.." gabbled Hilary, stopping as she saw Mugabe's women draw guns.
"Yo is liar! Yo is criminal!" roared Mugabe.
Then he chuckled and added,
"And yo is mine!"
"Mr President..," began Hilary, trying to sound reasonable.
"MR PRESIDENT!" roared Mugabe, "on da TV you is calling me 'liar', 'murderer' an' all types of lying stuff!"
Hilary's heart was pounding. She suddenly felt frightened.
"But," said Mugabe, "at least we blacks know 'bout yo evil games. Ain't dat right, Chester?"
"Sure ding, Boss."
Hilary gasped as Chester smirked at her.
"Traitor!" she cried.
Bibi made to move towards him but waved guns from Mugabe's goonettes made him stop.
"Let's do this right!" announced Mugabe clapping his hands, "lets start by searching de illegal immigrants for weapons."
"We are unarmed," said Hilary steadily, "as you well know."
"Mebbe," smirked Mugabe, "but I is gonna check that."
Hilary, followed by Bibi, raised her arms expecting one of the Daughters to come forward and frisk her.
"No, no, Missy Irvine. Yo show us all yo is unarmed by taking dem clothes off!"
Hilary's stomach was turning to ice. Her full red lower lip trembled as her brain tried to make sense of what Mugabe had just said.
"Dat's right!" he grinned, "Whenever I is seeing yo on TV telling lies 'bout me I is tinking I bets she got nice titties. Now I is seeing!"
Hilary knew danger. She'd been arrested before and had heard about other journalists dying in war zones. She accepted this as part of the job, part of the excitement truth be told. But she'd never considered that a threat to her would be sexual.
"Fuck off!" she replied once she'd conquered her inner terror.
"Gonna be more a case of 'fuck you' Miss Hilary," mocked Chester as moved towards her, "I have been anxious to taste yo body for days!"
He paused to make a deliberate show of unzipping his fly.
"An' I reckon you is-"
"I'm not going to let this lot take me without a fight!" Hilary had thought, before slamming her booted foot into Chester's crotch.
The black man doubled over clutching at his genitals as Hilary launched herself into the rest. Two women were in front of her. She drove her right foot into the midriff of the first. The air left the black woman's lungs with a "woof," the impact of the blow driving her back into the Daughter behind.
For the next woman Hilary used her fists, smashing her right hand into the African bitch's big negroid nose. It flattened with a satisfying crunch. With a flurry of blows she finished her off and then hammered the one she had winded into the ground.
Whirling, she drove her knee into the groin of the next goonette, and then without stopping struck with a knife hand to the neck of the woman next to her.
For a few seconds, Mugabe had been stunned by the quickness of the attack. By good fortune the whirling dervish that had loosed itself on his women had not come his way. It gave him time to react, gave him time to draw his favorite weapon, his whip. He flicked his wrist, sending the long lash snaking across the space that separated him from the incredible white woman that was single-handedly destroying his bodyguard.
Hilary suddenly heard a sharp cracking sound and something tightened around her neck. The attack was so unexpected that her breath was cut off before she even knew what had happened. Her fingers flew to her throat as she fought to suck air into her lungs. Then she was jerked off her feet.
As she sprawled on her back Hilary knew what had happened. Someone had snapped the end of a whip about her neck. She knew she had only seconds to recover before the rest of the female goon squad would be upon her. Desperately she clawed at the tight coils of the lash, but whoever had used the whip was an expert. The tension never eased up as she struggled frantically to get her fingers under it.
And then half a dozen enraged African women piled into her.
Mugabe had to scream at his Daughters to keep them from beating the struggling Hilary to death. Even so, they got in several kicks and punches before he managed to get them to pull back. By the time he had them under control, their white victim was close to been unconscious from lack of air.
"Strip her!" Mugabe barked as he unwound the whip from about Hilary's slender neck.
Several women lay hold of the gasping Hilary and began clawing at her clothes. Her cotton blouse was torn off her back, her belt undone and her pants yanked down. The sight of her expensive white laced panties drew some snickering, but this was brought to an abrupt halt as when Hilary felt her knickers been tugged she suddenly made a frenzied attempt to escape. Wrenching her body violently, the near-naked woman almost succeeded in breaking free. It took all the strength of four women that held her to keep her from escaping.
Hilary fought desperately. Fear amplified her strength as she strained against the powerful hands that assaulted her. She knew that she faced rape, possibly torture and near-certain death. The situation was hopeless, but Hilary Irvine could not just give up without a fight. She battled until she was too exhausted to struggle any longer, and then too weak to resist as her captors finally pulled off her panties. Hilary was then slammed face-first into the dirt before a Daughter climbed on her back and, using a knife, cut off her bra and threw it away.
Hilary Irvine was now naked.
Covered with sweat, and panting like a dog, she was carried over to where Mugabe stood and hauled to her feet.
Mugabe put one of his big negroid hands on Hilary's left boob and squeezed.
"P-please, you c-can't...," she whimpered, the horror of her plight sinking in.
With a smirk on his face Mugabe savagely tweaked her nipple.
"Yeowww!" Hilary shrieked in pain.
"Yo in da mood for honkey meat?" Mugabe grunted to Chester, whose cock was now once again ready for action.
"Lemme at da bitch!" he snarled moving in front of Hilary.
Chester looked at the panting white captive with total contempt. He looked at Hilary's full red lips...
"Get her on her knees," he growled.
Ignoring Hilary's gasped protests, the two negro women either side of her pulled the struggling white woman down into a kneeling position, in front of Chester's crotch. They knelt on either side of her, twisting her arms up behind her back.
'Oh my God! Oh my God!' Hilary's mind cried, 'Please don't let this happen to me!' With her stomach churning Hilary turned her face away and closed her eyes.
"You ever suck a cock, white bitch?" Chester said, jabbing his stiffening prick forward until it touched Hilary's lips.
She moved her head to the side, trying to avoid at all costs the long, hard black prick. It was 10 inches long and only semi-erect. She moved her head from side to side, praying that he wouldn't force that horrible hard thing into her mouth.
"Missy Irvine," grinned Mugabe from off to the left, "yo will do as da nice black boy says...or YOUR black boy is tasting lead!"
As Hilary looked up she saw Mugabe pointing a gun at Bibi. It was obvious. She sucks or he dies.
Hilary took a deep breath, held up her head and dropped her jaw.
"No...Missy Hilary," mumbled Bibi, closing his eyes to spare his employer some shame.
Chester chuckled, took hold of Hilary's hair and jabbed his dick in her mouth.
She felt it on her tongue.
His great, blunt, hot, black thing.
The fat, swollen shaft began to slide in and out of her mouth, never quite withdrawing, always leaving an inch or two past her lips in the hot shelter of her mouth.
Hilary closed her eyes in disgust and pain. All of her mouth that was left after the great expanding rod rammed down her throat towards her tonsils began to fill with saliva. She coughed and spluttered as he moved it in and out with increasing force, ramming into her at a fast pace. She felt the black man's loins crush into her face, the woolly harshness of his pubic hairs as they rubbed against her lips. His hands gripped her hair and he seemed to be trying to force his cock down her throat and into her stomach.
He pumped his loins faster pressing hard against her soft lips each time, burying the length of his prick all the way to the coarse hair at it's base. His tool was growing bigger with each driving thrust of his hips. Hilary's stretched lips slid over the full length of his rising cock with each forward plunge of his body.
Chester knew that soon it would ram well past the back of her throat.
The bitch was having difficulty taking it's hardening length in her mouth, gagging and choking when he really threw it at her.
He pumped ceaselessly in and out of her mouth...
Hilary was trying frantically not to choke on the throbbing creature that invaded her throat. It was huge!
Each time his hairy body slapped against her lips that terrible thing pushed against the back of her throat and almost slid down the sensitive passage at her tonsils. She gasped and choked with each plunge, thinking that she would surely suffocate beneath it's thrust. He would pull it almost out of her mouth, out until the raised head at it's tip brushed her lips then he would begin that awful journey back into her throat.
It was hard, but flexible and when the head bumped against the back of her throat it would bend just enough to go down. Each time it did she would have to swallow.....or
choke...and she knew that the flexing of her own throat muscles would be her downfall.
Chester groaned each time Hilary swallowed, and she knew that the contractions of her throat were milking him to a climax. But each time she tried not to swallow, she choked and her throat automatically contracted around the black beast.
He held her head tight and buried his aching cock deep down into her throat until his hairy balls rested on her chin.
Hilary couldn't say anything....couldn't think of anything.
She gagged again as he drove deeply into her mouth over and over again. He jammed his cock thru her tightly clamped lips, over the rough tongue and down the throat again and again and again. Until she felt his loins twitch beneath the hair as he banged against her.
It was beginning...
Oh God! He was going to empty that hot swollen beast down her open throat!
What could she do?
As Hilary struggled for air her mouth was suddenly flooded with a flowing torrent of hot, thick liquid that choked her and slithered down her throat. She swallowed hurriedly, feeling herself starting to choke again. The heavy cream was dripping out the sides of her mouth and still he was shooting more and more of it into her gullet.
"AAAh! Suck it white bitch! Take my load down your throat!" Chester yelled as he rhythmically pumped his foul seed deep into her mouth.
Finally, his cock stopped jerking and the onslaught of cum stopped. His rod began to lose it's size and weight. It seemed like an eternity before he began to move away and removed his deflated prick from Hilary's mouth. A thin string of semen connected the tip of his cock to her lips. He pulled away from her and the string broke, disconnecting them.
Hilary sobbed, able to breath again, and opened her mouth to spit out the remaining vestiges of sticky cum that stuck to her tongue and palate. The taste of Chester's jism sickening her and making her want to vomit.
The gunshot brought Hilary back to reality. Bibi was down, bleeding heavily from the stomach.
"No!" she gasped, "Why?"
"Cos I is not liking dem dat helps white folks." came the reply from Mugabe, "So I is punishing him."
He leaned down to bring his face close to Hilary's.
"Now I is punishing yo!"
Still in shock from the sudden violence Hilary felt herself been dragged up by several of Mugabe hench-women. They hauled her off towards some trees. There some of her captors pushed her upright while others clambered up the trees like monkeys, seized her arms and bound each of her wrists to separate branches.
"Ahhh!" Hilary gasped in pain as her body was released and her arms took the weight.
As she looked down she saw that her feet were mere inches off the ground, just enough to compel her to hang free. In front of her Hilary saw Mugabe approaching, grin on his face, whip in his hand. She almost wept with fear and frustration, knowing that she was about to be tortured, and helpless to do anything about it. Trembling, she awaited her fate.
"Yep! Yo been telling nasty lies 'bout ol'Robert," Mugabe sneered, "now yo is gonna git de punishment!"
He moved behind and to one side of the suspended BBC Reporter. This way he would have the greatest freedom to swing the whip and could best pick his target. Mugabe was an expert with the whip, he knew exactly where to place the lash to cause maximum pain. He almost drooled at the sight of her. The white woman's profile was magnificent. Her perfect breasts trembled slightly above her narrow waist as she twisted her body to keep him in sight. It would be entertaining to watch those large and splendid breasts bounce as he beat her.
"You are a murderer and a monster!" gasped Hilary, "and some day you'll be punished!"
"But not today, eh?" laughed Mugabe as he cracked the whip several times to build up tension and instil fear in his waiting victim.
Hilary tried to calm her hammering heart. Her fear became so overwhelming that she was almost sick. But it was not fear of what was going to be done to her, but fear of what she might do under the punishment she was going to be forced to endure. Her lips moved in a silent prayer. She would need to be strong if she was not to disgrace herself. More than anything else she feared the shame of being reduced to a screaming animal, begging for mercy in front of this African Hitler.
It took all of her self control to keep herself from screaming before the flogging even began.
Air burst from her lungs as the heavy lash struck again. The pain was almost indescribable.
The pain was even worse, but this time she had expected it and fought back the urge to scream. The swish of the whip arcing through the air was frightening, as was the crack as it struck her back. Surprisingly, it did not hurt as much as she thought it would, but it still stuck her with enough force to almost drive the breath from her body. The African dictator had aimed right at the middle of her back and the blow jerked her forward, causing her to arch her back against the pain.
The lash struck again, this time cutting across her perfect backside. The whip stung more than it hurt. Hilary realized that Mugabe was playing with her. The intention had been to make sure that her perfect body was not permanently scarred but at the same time leave her screaming in agony.
Her thoughts were interrupted as the whip struck her for the fourth time, curling around her ribcage and leaving a nasty welt across her right breast. Mugabe's handling of the lash was masterful. What he was doing hurt like the blazes, but was not lastingly marring her body.
The fifth blow crisscrossed the first, bringing added pain to the stinging weals that marked her body. Hilary stiffened as she fought against screaming. She knew that each added blow would cause increased pain. This form of torture was not immediately excruciating, but gradually built up into a crescendo of agony. She would have to use all her inner strength to resist it. Provided she could resist it.