Horn Of Africa by Marsh



Horn Of Africa


The confident young woman hailed a London cab, gave details of her destination, he grunted o. k ma'am. The young woman had every reason to be confident, she was the twenty-two year old daughter of a wealthy politician well known for his extreme racist policies. She was also highly attractive, a red head with exquisite pale skin, a born aristocrat and she knew it. Claire Dickson-Smith relaxed in the cab, secure in the knowledge that she would soon be home with Mummy and Daddy, for Claire was not yet married, indeed, she was still a virgin.

The cab cruised down a dark and gloomy street, quietly came to a halt, Claire noticed two shadowy figures on the pavement. Both rear doors of the cab were suddenly wrenched open, the two men entered quickly, doors slammed and the cab took off. Claire screamed only once, a strong arm was placed about her neck, surgical tape was wound about her mouth, she still tried to fight them off, but her wrists were held firmly together. She heard two metallic clicks, looked down in horror, she was also handcuffed. Then the final indignity, she was hooded, with some sort of leather bag., the drawstrings secured about her neck.

The cab continued on its journey. All Claire heard was the faint hum of the motor, there was no conversation whatsoever. Claire just sat in abject misery, knees held tightly together. Some time later the cab arrived at it's destination. Claire was carefully assisted into the doorway of a house. She felt thick carpet beneath her feet, quiet conversation between the men, the rustle of money, then the thud of a heavy door being shut and bolted. Then she was held by each arm and escorted down a flight of stairs, ushered into a room, and felt something slipped round her neck. She thought, my god, they are about to kill me, but it was a leather collar, with metal studs and a light chain leash.

She was restrained in an upright position, unable to move more than a few inches. Claire sensed there were at least two men with her, she could smell spicy body odour, then one spoke, "We are about to see what Miss Claire Dickson-Smith has to offer". His speech sounded slightly foreign, probably Arican, thought Claire with a shudder. The handcuffs were released, but only for a moment, while they slipped her frock off, just leaving Claire in white lace brassiere and silken panties, her dark pubic thatch showing through the sheer material. Her wrists were now secured behind her back and poor Claire sobbed with fright. The leather hood was then removed from her head. She stood, blinking, in the strong light. There were four men in the room, all black, three dressed in business suits and one in a kaftan. He was grossly overweight and ugly, sat slumped in a chair, idly waving some sort of thin leather whip, his evil eyes on Claire's almost naked body. He then whispered something to the men, they all trooped out, and the door clicked shut.

Claire shut her eyes as the fat man eased himself out of the chair, she felt his fingers unclipping the brassiere. Her breasts were free and still standing behind her, the fat man cupped them both, squeezing and stretching, thumbs and forefingers gripped her nipples, twisting until they felt on fire. Then soon tiring of that sport he unhooked her leash, pulled her over to the bed and re-hooked her, now lying on her side, legs firmly together, still wearing lacy panties. Claire opened her eyes and saw with horror that the fat man had removed the kaftan. He was quite naked, short thick legs, powerful figure with fat belly, standing at the foot of the bed, stroking a monstrous black penis.

Claire was very frightened , for she knew what was about to happen.

Her panties were removed very quickly, for she had no way of stopping him, however when he tried to open her legs, she put up a very spirited fight, one of her flying feet gave him a heavy blow to the face. Silently he got off the bed, opened a drawer in a small desk, took out a strange implement, it resembled a silver bullet with thin wire attached to a little control box containing several buttons, the "bullet" was then dipped in a jar of vaseline. Claire tried to protect herself, drawing her knees up against her breasts, nice shapely big bottom with dimples, and the thatch of red pubic hair. Fat man admired it for a few moments, casually running his fingers through the hairy cleft, feeling its warmth and dampness, also the exquisite aroma of a woman's sexual parts. Moving over, then placed one massive knee in the small of Claire's back holding her down firmly while inserting the bullet in Claire's puckered anus. She screamed and struggled to pull the wire out but with hands restrained it was quite impossible.

The fat man chuckled as he pressed the button, Claire got her first jolt in the rectum, her legs flew wide open with the shock, little red beaver fairly crackled. Each time she closed her legs he hit the button, and finally she lost control of her body, sprayed her bodily fluids on the bed, gave up, utterly exhausted, legs wide open. She lay in a wet patch of her own piss.

She was slowly mounted by the huge negro, his purple cockhead soon split her pouting quim. Miss Dickson-Smith had been broken in, after the first few seconds, to her dismay, she got very wet and began to enjoy it, after a few minutes of his thrusting she had a rattling great orgasm and as he carried on, she had several more. That night she entertained the other three black guys. They all seemed to be expert lovers, one after the other, they slipped between the sheets of her bed, also slipped their tools into her battered pussy, once she started fucking it was difficult to stop. She had never sampled a cock before, black, white or brindle, but this night Claire had a veritable feast of fucking and sucking. The following day she was taken home by cab, and apart from a well-stretched vagina, pink, sore, and a little swollen, Claire was quite unharmed and she firmly resolved to try many more black cocks and white ones too. (Bigger the better)

Marsh