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Stories by Corvus I Size Does Matter I Arab Slave
"Third World Debt"
by Corvus
Part 1:
Jill watched the sun setting over the city and shuddered. From this
high vantage point, the safety of her hotel balcony, it would almost
be possible to forget the squalor and degradation that she'd already
witnessed - had it not been etched so deeply in her mind.
This was Jill's third day in Zamibia and she had hardly dared venture
from the hotel since her arrival. The taxi journey from the airport to
the only proper hotel in the capital had shown her as much suffering
and poverty as she had seen in her rather sheltered life, and
certainly as much as she ever wanted to see.
For the tiny state of Zamibia was in the grip of the same nightmare of
debt and impoverishment as many of her West-African neighbours.
Zamibia had been a British colony until she won her independence in
the late 1950s. The British withdrawal had been a relatively peaceful
and orderly one but it left Zamibia's only significant industries in
the hands of the same white elite, many of them ex-patriots, who had
run the country during the decades of colonial occupation. This flawed
independence had meant that wealth was concentrated in a few hands,
and much of it was eventually exported as corruption and cronyism took
hold.
Like so much of the third world, the fledgling nation's problems
really began in earnest in the 1970s when western banks leant money
against future exports of diamonds, the country's only real asset.
These loans, often at criminally high rates of interest, were
ostensibly to fund development schemes. In reality the money was
earmarked for grandiose and usually irrelevant construction projects
that benefited only the western companies that built them.
By the 1980s the country was nearing bankruptcy, as almost all of its
export income was needed to finance international debt. In the early
1990s, facing default on its debts and the withdrawal of international
aid, Zamibia was forced onto the tender mercies of the World Bank. Now
a `structural readjustment' program added insult to the nation's
injuries, forcing the virtual closure of what little health and
education services still existed. The result was inevitable. A brief
but bloody civil war saw the forced re-nationalisation of the diamond
mines and the imposition of military rule.
The war had been over for two years but the devastation it caused was
still much in evidence. Jill had seen maimed and blinded ex-soldiers
begging in the streets and children who had lost limbs to the many
mines and unexploded shells that littered the countryside. Worse
still, the fighting had disrupted the agriculture that the rural
population subsisted on. As harvests failed, thousands of starving
families had migrated to the capital seeking famine relief.
Jill had been horrified at the way that the desperate crowds had
mobbed her taxi. These were not the mischievous, young street-hawkers
who accost travellers in the movies. These were filthy, diseased and
often disfigured men and women pleading for anything that might
prolong their lives by a few more days. The taxi driver had seemed
oblivious to their plight, cursing the beggars and driving straight at
them to force his way through. By the time they reached the hotel Jill
was in tears from what she had seen and bitterly regretting agreeing
to come to Zamibia.
And it was still a mystery to Jill why she was here at all. Gerald,
her boss, had asked her to accompany him on this trip but he had not
given her any good reason. But he'd been very insistent that she come,
and eventually she had agreed. Jill despised Gerald, but was for the
moment uncomfortably dependent on him.
Jill had started working for Gerald Ashby three months earlier. In a
moment of rashness, which she quickly regretted, she had left a safe
(if dull) job in a large insurance company to come to work as his
Personal Assistant. She had seen the job advertised in the Evening
Standard and it had seemed to offer all the glamour and opportunities
that her old job had lacked. Gerald had described himself as an
`entrepreneur' and the post as his PA was supposed to be dynamic and
challenging. In fact, Jill had quickly realised that Gerald was just
an old-style businessman - bigoted, sexist and often drunk. Far from
showing any entrepreneurial flare, it was soon obvious that he relied
on the `old-boy' network of contacts built up during his days in the
Forces.
Now 27, Jill had hoped that the job would be as a genuine PA, taking
decisions and responsibility for herself. But Gerald treated her like
a secretary, in the worst meaning of the word. He was constantly
demanding cups of coffee, he never explained his business to her and
he often expected her to run errands and pick up shopping. Worse
still, only weeks after she had started working for him, Gerald
started to `come on' to Jill. It had started in a small way, with
glances and compliments. Then one afternoon Gerald came in drunk after
a lunch with his ex-army pals and made a pass at Jill. She'd pushed
him away and he'd not persisted, but since then there'd been
increasing tension between them.
Jill didn't feel physically threatened by Gerald; despite his military
bullshit she could see he was a spineless little jerk. At 53 Gerald
was gaunt and round-shouldered, his hair thinning and his yellowing
teeth looking long and misshapen as his gums receded. Despite his
unsavoury appearance, Gerald seemed to believe that Jill was being
deliberately unreasonable in refusing sex with him. His pique curdled
into sour resentment and as the weeks wore on he began to find fault
with her work and became increasingly difficult to deal with. What
Gerald could not know was that Jill was finding herself increasingly
unsure of her own sexuality. Although she'd had the normal quota of
boyfriends she was beginning to despair of her relationships with men
and was beginning to think, more and more, about her feelings for
women.
The difficulties with Gerald were particularly galling for Jill, as
`men' problems had been one of her reasons for leaving the insurance
company. She had experienced an on-going problem with Tom, one of the
regional managers. He had taken an unhealthy interest in Jill and made
her life miserable with his leering attentions. As Tom was fat,
balding and middle-aged, Jill had been unable even to feel that his
pursuit was good for her morale. She had seriously considered taking a
grievance against him, but then the job with Gerald had come up and it
had seemed an easier way out.
Within two months of working with Gerald, Jill had decided that she
would have to move on and had begun to look at other jobs. She would
have liked to walk out sooner but, like so many young professionals,
Jill was finding life in London to be very expensive. Her share of the
rent on the flat she shared with a girlfriend ate up a large slice of
her salary and she simply couldn't afford to be out of work, even for
a short period.
Then, out the blue, Gerald had asked her to come to Africa. Jill knew
little of his business but was aware that he travelled to Africa among
many other places. What he actually did on these visits was a mystery,
beyond vague references to `import and export'. Jill was initially
very sceptical about accompanying Gerald on one of his trips, fearing
that it might be another pitiful attempt on his part to seduce her.
Initially she'd refused, but over the course of some days her
objections had softened. After all, it would be valuable experience to
add to her CV and Gerald would be paying for the flights and
accommodation. Eventually, in the spirit of reconciliation she had
agreed and Gerald's behaviour towards her had improved considerably.
Jill had enjoyed the flight and the indulgences of business-class
travel. She had just about managed to maintain polite conversation
with Gerald and had been fascinated as their plane flew over the
Mediterranean and the endless wastes of the North African deserts.
It was when they had disembarked that Jill had suffered the first
pangs of doubt about the country she'd come to. The so-called
`International Airport' seemed little more than a collection of tin
huts. Worse still were sullen stares of envy and resentment with which
the airport staff greeted them. Jill was also uncomfortably aware of
the interest that some of the local males were displaying in her. She
had heeded Gerald's advice and wore cotton trousers to cover her legs
and had her shoulder-length blonde hair gathered up under a broad
sun-hat. Despite this, her fair skin and undeniable beauty were still
a rarity in sub-Saharan Africa.
Since then Jill had found herself in fear of the local population,
although none had directly threatened her. Within the hotel she felt
reasonably secure and had even found the courage to sunbathe beside
the pool, albeit in a `sensible' one-piece swim-suit. There were a few
other westerners staying there, mostly aid-workers and businessmen and
she had struck up desultory conversations with one or two. Gerald had
gone out to visit contacts during the days and Jill was relieved that
he had not asked her to accompany him.
It was now approaching seven o'clock and time to think about dinner.
Jill left her room and knocked for Gerald next-door. There was no
reply so she went down to the dining room alone. She sat by herself
and ate quickly, acutely aware of her own isolation.
She was back in her room by 7:50pm and the satellite TV whiled away a
little more of the evening. She considered going down to the hotel bar
but rejected the idea. To go alone would be to invite unwanted
attention from the business types, and she was in no mood to be picked
up. In fact, all Jill really wanted to do was to get the next two days
over with so that she could fly home and get on with her life.
At 10pm Jill took a cool shower and got into bed to read. Even at this
hour it was uncomfortably hot and she would have slept naked had she
felt more secure. As it was she wore a cotton t-shirt and briefs.
After a little while Jill felt her eyes begin to droop and she decided
to try and sleep. She checked the lock on her door once more and then
turned out the light.
Jill was sound asleep at midnight, when the door to her room was
suddenly broken in. The first she knew was a blinding light in her
face and rough hands grabbing her and pulling her up from the bed. She
had no opportunity to struggle before her wrists were cuffed behind
her and a rough sack was pulled over her head and down her torso.
Something was wound around her neck, preventing her from dislodging
the sack and making her gasp for breath through the thick course
fabric.
As she was half-dragged, half-carried from the room, Jill tried to
shout for help in the vain hope that Gerald might hear the commotion
and come to her aid. However, no sooner had the cry left her throat
than a balled fist slammed into her midriff, doubling her over in
agony. She collapsed to the floor, writhing in pain and struggling for
breath. She felt herself being lifted into the air as one of her
abductors lifted her bodily and flung her over his shoulder.
Jill had just begun to recover from the winding blow when she was
dumped into the back of a van, the impact knocking the breath from her
once again. She heard the van door slam shut and the engine cough into
life.
The road journey was a short one before Jill was dragged out of the
van once more and marched down a short flight of stairs. Moments later
she was flung down onto a stone floor and the sack was pulled off her.
The handcuffs were removed and a door slammed shut with a metallic
clang.
When Jill had gathered herself and looked around her she realised that
she was in some kind of prison cell. It was about four feet square and
the back wall was solid stone, while the three other sides were of
vertical metal bars. It was too dark to see very much but she could
make out similar, but empty, cells to the left and right of her own.
To the front was a narrow walkway separating one bank of cells from
another.
Jill could just make out the shapes of other captives in the cells
opposite and she could hear their breathing and muttering as they
tried to sleep. As she trembled with the shock of her sudden capture
she tried to reassure herself that she was in some kind of official
prison. In the first jolt of terror as those lights had exploded in
her face Jill had feared she was being kidnapped, perhaps to be held
for ransom or sold into slavery. Those possibilities now looked
remote. It was not likely that bandits would attack a large hotel and
even less likely that they would be holding so many abductees at once.
As she got her heartbeat and her breathing back under a semblance of
control, Jill looked around her cell and tried to assess her position.
Her cage was entirely without furnishings and the only break in the
monotony of the stone floor was an open drain in the back right-hand
corner. Judging by the foul stench emanating from the drain it was
also intended to function as a toilet. A sudden movement caught Jill's
eye and to her horror a large cockroach waddled out of the drain hole
and across the floor of her cell.
Jill sat back against the bars as far from the drain as she could get
and pulled her knees up to her chest. Despite the heat of the night
she was shivering with fear and the dank cold of the stone cell floor.
She sat like that for some hours, sometimes drifting off to sleep,
sometimes turning over in her mind what had happened and how she
should respond. Her first thought was to somehow get in touch with
Gerald. He was experienced in foreign travel and would certainly know
what to do. She wondered if there was a British Embassy in Zamibia,
and if there was, how much they would do to help her.
By the time it began to get light Jill was desperately uncomfortably
from sitting on the unyielding stone. As she realised that dawn was
approaching she was faced with another dilemma. Her bladder was
becoming uncomfortably full and she would soon need to relieve
herself. Much as she loathed the idea of squatting over the drain in
her cell, she knew that it could not be put off forever. As the
morning light began to filter into the dingy blockhouse she decided to
do what had to be done under the cover of what was left of the
night-time gloom. Shuffling over to the back corner of the cell she
positioned her backside over the drain and eased her panties down her
thighs.
It was while urinating that she was able to see the occupants of the
cells opposite for the first time. To her horror she now realised that
rather than being a bank of cells like her own, the accommodation
opposite simply consisted of one long cage that ran the length of the
building. Into it were herded a mass of bodies, apparently of both
sexes. The other prisoners were still asleep and it was difficult to
make an accurate count of their huddled forms, but Jill estimated that
there must be fifty people crammed into a space only about six times
as great as she was occupying.
As the light grew the other prisoners began to stir and Jill began to
consider what their reaction to seeing her might be. She felt
desperately vulnerable and exposed in only her t-shirt and briefs. The
t-shirt was obscenely short and barely covered her hips, leaving her
legs and panties in full view. Trying to hide what she could, she sat
once again with her back to the bars and her knees pulled up to her
chest. At least this way the other prisoners would see only her back
when they awoke.
Jill stayed like that for another hour, ignoring the incomprehensible
shouts from behind her. Then her spirits rose as she heard the clomp
of boots on the stone flooring. Her hopes of release were dashed when
she realised that this marked the arrival of breakfast, rather than
impending release.
The food was brought by two men wearing some kind of military uniform
and Jill wondered if they had been among the party that captured her
in the night. When her cell was opened she tried to speak to the
guard.
"Excuse me, could I speak to someone in authority?" she asked
cautiously.
If the man understood he gave no response, simply flinging two metal
bowls on the floor and slamming the door shut once more.
When he'd gone Jill examined what she'd been given to eat. One bowl
contained water that looked anything but clean. The other held
something with the appearance and consistency of porridge. Jill tasted
a little and found it to be bland and glutinous, but still better than
nothing. She ate the paste and reluctantly drank down the water,
knowing dehydration to be as much a danger as water-borne diseases in
the pitiless heat of Africa.
The day dragged by in an agony of discomfort for Jill. By midday the
heat in the cellblock was unbearable as the sun beat down directly on
its flat roof. The small slit windows high in the walls provided
almost nothing in the way of ventilation and the smell of festering
drains and unwashed bodies was soon overpowering.
Jill's self-control began to desert her by mid-afternoon. She began to
sob uncontrollably, causing the other prisoners to call to her once
again. Mostly the language was unintelligible but one phrase, in
heavily accented English, made her shudder.
"Hey Missy, I make you smile…" a male voice called threateningly.
The prisoners were fed again towards the end of the afternoon and once
again Jill tried to communicate with the guards. Again they ignored
her. It was shortly after this that she had to face the humiliation of
using the drain in full view of the other prisoners. It was the first
time she had turned to face them and it provoked a fresh volley of
leering chants and cat-calls from the men.
It was around sunset that Jill was finally rescued from her misery.
The gaolers who had brought the food appeared again and unlocked
Jill's cell. They dragged her to her feet and shoved her roughly from
the cell. They marched her out of the cellblock and across a dusty
compound to another low, single-storey building. Inside, she was led
into a large office, which was in complete contrast to the squalid
conditions she had experienced so far.
The office was vastly spacious, occupying most of the ground floor of
the building and well equipped with modern furniture. Behind a large,
leather-topped desk sat an African man in military uniform. He was
hugely obese with a round face and gleaming, bald head – almost a
caricature of a third-world despot. Jill was immediately reminded of
the Ugandan dictator Idi Amin and she might have laughed had her
situation not been so precarious. On the wall behind him hung all
manner of plaques, framed photographs and insignia – clearly this was
a man who took himself very seriously. To his left and right stood two
younger men, both in uniform and both wearing guns.
"Good evening my dear…" said the fat African, an unpleasant smile
splitting his wide face.
"Good evening." replied Jill, in a shaky voice. She was startled by
the African's English. He spoke perfectly, with an almost "upper
crust" diction.
"You asked to see someone in authority. I am Colonel Benjamin Odooga
and I am in charge of this facility. What can I do for you?"
"Well…" began Jill, trying to control her voice, "…I was wondering why
I'd been brought here…"
"You don't know?" said Odooga, the smile dropping from his face.
"No, I'm afraid not," said Jill tremulously.
Odooga spun in his chair so that he was facing to one side and sat in
silence for a moment, as if fighting for self-control. With a deep
breath he turned back to his desk and from one its drawers he removed
a small fabric bag. He upended the bag, spilling a number of small
stones on the desktop.
"These are the reason that you have been detained."
Jill looked uncomprehendingly at the stones. They were dull and dusty
and looked, to her, to be quite worthless.
"What are they?" she asked.
"These," said Odooga, his face darkening once again, "…these are uncut
diamonds. More specifically, they are uncut diamonds found in the
possession of your travelling companion, Mr Gerald Ashby."
"Gerald?" said Jill in confusion.
"Yes, Gerald. Do you deny that you are travelling with Mr Ashby?"
"No, no, I don't deny it…I'm his PA" replied Jill.
"And what, to your knowledge, is the purpose of his visit to Zamibia"
asked Odooga.
"Well…he never really told me…" said Jill, knowing that this sounded
pathetically inadequate.
"Then let me explain the situation to you," said Odooga, smiling once
again, "The sale of diamonds from our country is strictly controlled
by a system of export licences. Mr Ashby does not hold such a licence
and is therefore guilty of smuggling. Smuggling of diamonds is
punishable by twenty years imprisonment with hard labour."
Jill felt her guts twist as saw the position that Gerald had placed
her in. She could quite believe that he had been stupid enough to get
caught smuggling but she was appalled at the thought that he might
have dragged her into it.
"Please, you've got to believe me, I knew nothing about this…" she
sobbed.
"I do believe you…" said Odooga. "Unfortunately that will count for
little when the case comes to court. The export of diamonds is
virtually the only source of foreign currency earnings for our
country. Accordingly the courts are taking a very hard line with
anyone suspected of trafficking. As an accomplice you can expect a ten
year sentence."
Jill felt she might faint as his words hit her. A cold sweat sprang
from her pores and her stomach churned.
"But…I haven't done anything…" she wept. "Please let me call the
British Embassy or someone…"
"The Embassy already know you're here…" laughed Odooga, "… and I'm
afraid you will find them unsympathetic. The British Government is
very sensitive about the situation in Zamibia and doesn't want to be
seen to support anyone involved in the illegal diamond trade. You
might get a consular visit in a few weeks if you're lucky."
"Then could I speak to Gerald?" asked Jill.
"Mr Ashby is being held in a high security prison considerably more
unpleasant than this one," said Odooga. "I could have you transferred
there if you wish, but I would strongly advise you against it."
Jill buried her face in her hands and wept as she saw her life being
turned upside down in the space of only a few hours.
"Shall I tell you what Mr Ashby's suggested solution was?" said
Odooga, jolting Jill out of her grief. "He suggested I keep the
diamonds for my own use and forget the whole matter."
Jill studied his face, looking for any sign that he might be about to
consider such an arrangement. It would be just like Gerald to try to
bribe his way out of a situation and she feared he might have made
matters worse for both of them.
"But as I pointed out to him…" continued the Colonel, "…the diamonds
were not his to bargain with. Diamonds are the life-blood of our
country and men like Mr Ashby are taking the bread from the mouths of
our children when they steal them."
"I'm very sorry…" said Jill, "…I'd have never come with him if I'd
known what he was involved in."
"I'm sure you wouldn't," said Odooga. "The question I put to you is
the one I put to Mr Ashby – what else of value does he have to
negotiate with?"
Jill tried to think clearly before replying.
"Well, I suppose he's got some money with him, and credit cards…"
"Hardly enough though, under the circumstances…" chuckled Odooga, "No,
I think the only thing of value he has - is you!"
Jill sat stunned for a moment before she could reply.
"You can't mean that he should sell me?" she said tearfully.
"No, no my dear. We are not savages here. It was the white men that
introduced slavery to this region. But you are undoubtedly a most
lovely creature and I'm sure we could come to some kind of
arrangement. Your flight home is in two days from now. If you were to
agree to entertain my staff and I until then, I think we could bring
ourselves to overlook Mr Ashby's foolishness."
Jill had a horrible feeling that she knew what was being suggested but
hoped that she might be mistaken.
"How do you mean `entertain'?" she asked uncertainly.
"Don't try my patience!" shouted Odooga, his smile vanishing once
more. "I have lived in Britain and I know how your women behave. Don't
pretend that you are any different…" he hissed contemptuously. "Of
course, if you think you cannot do as I ask I can have you returned to
the cell-block. However, I could not justify continuing to allocate
you a single cell if you were not co-operating…"
The threat hit Jill like a punch in the body.
"Please don't put me in with the others…" she pleaded, "…the men would
kill me."
"Oh surely not…" smiled Odooga, "…the men would only rape you. The
women would kill you."
Jill gripped the arms of her chair and tried to make sense of her
predicament. She knew that to `entertain' Odooga and his two guards
would certainly involve having sex with them. The alternative was to
be gang-raped and probably torn to pieces in a prison cell.
"I'll do it." said Jill after a few moments tearful contemplation.
"A very sound decision…" said Odooga, settling back into his chair. He
said something in his native tongue to the guards and they begin to
rearrange the office.
Jill was lifted out of her chair, which was then pushed back against
the wall. A table was pulled into the centre of the room and Jill was
shoved back onto it.
It was as her legs were lifted up onto the table that Jill felt her
pulse begin to race as the reality of what was about to happen hit
her. She was about to have sex with these three men. She tried to hang
onto the thought that she wasn't being raped, that she had consented
to what was going to happen. Somehow if she could remember that it
would make it easier to bear afterwards.
Now Odooga heaved himself up from his chair and came around his desk
to stand at Jill's feet. It was at this point that a terrible thought
crashed into Jill's consciousness - AIDS! Jill had read all the usual
travel leaflets and knew that the HIV virus was rife in Africa.
Although she feared angering Odooga, she feared the virus more.
"Please, could you use something? I'm worried about HIV," she said
shakily.
Odooga grinned widely and said something to his staff. All three
laughed aloud.
"My dear…" he said insincerely, "…we live with the threat of HIV every
day of our lives. I think you can risk it for two days."
With that he began to unbutton his trousers.
Jill lay back on the hard wooden table and forced herself to go limp
and not resist as the African guards stripped her. Her t-shirt was
roughly pulled off over her head and her briefs were torn away,
ripping the flimsy cotton fabric. As she lay naked she fixed her gaze
on a point on the ceiling and tried to distance herself from what was
happening.
Odooga climbed onto the table and flopped his huge bulk down on top of
Jill. She gasped under his suffocating weight and wretched as his
fetid breath hit her face. She turned her head to the side to try to
avoid looking at him as she felt her legs pushed apart and something
hard press between them.
The penetration was excruciatingly painful as Odooga shoved his member
into Jill's dry and unresponsive passage. She clenched her teeth in
agony as he began to pump at her passive body. Jill was crushed and
battered like a rag-doll as Odooga slammed his sixteen stones of
sweating blubber down on her. On and on it went, the relentless
pounding. As Jill wept, she thought bitterly of how different life
would have been if she had never left the insurance company. As things
had turned out she might just as well have stayed there and let Tom
screw her; he could have hardly been more physically repulsive than
the man now having his way with her.
At last it was over and Odooga dragged himself off Jill's body. She
lay there physically drained and emotionally traumatised. There was
little time to recover, however, before the next assault began. The
first of the guards climbed on top of Jill and began to knead and maul
her breasts. He was physically very different from his commander,
young and in rock hard physical condition. As he began to penetrate
her, Jill realised that he was also much better endowed. Jill forced
herself to relax and not fight his entrance, the lubrication of her
previous assault assisting slightly. Finally he was in and he began to
grind at her relentlessly. No sooner did he finish than his colleague
took his place.
In took around twenty minutes for all three men to finish with Jill.
When it was over she lay on the table and sobbed quietly, wondering if
her life would ever be the same after this evening.
Odooga was sitting on the edge of his desk, puffing on a cigar was he
surveyed as his victim.
"I apologise if this was all a little hurried…" he said at a length,
"…I will try to ensure that we have a little more time to spend with
you tomorrow evening when we meet again. Then, if all goes well, you
will be taken to the airport the following morning."
Jill was reassured by the mention of the airport but she cringed at
the thought of enduring a repeat performance the following night. The
only redeeming feature of her ordeal with the men was that it had been
short.
"In the meanwhile…" continued Odooga, "…I'm afraid I must return you
to your cell."
Jill sat up and swung her legs off the table, feeling the sticky pool
of semen that had gathered between her legs. She got down and tried to
stoop to gather up what was left of her clothes. However, the guards
grabbed her by the arms and hustled her towards the door. She panicked
at the thought of being taken across the compound and back into the
cellblock still naked and tried to resist.
"No, please let me get dressed…" she pleaded.
One of the guards simply kicked her feet from under her and the two of
them dragged her out into the dust.
Crossing the courtyard Jill heard shouts and whistles of appreciation
from other soldiers. She hoped desperately that it might be
sufficiently dark in the cellblock to hide her shame.
It might have been, had one of her guards not lit a powerful hand-lamp
and shone it directly on Jill as they manhandled her towards her cell.
The effect was electrifying. The other prisoners, who had been
quiescent in the dusk, came to life – yelling and whooping in
excitement as they saw the terrified, naked girl being brought to
them.
Seeing their reaction Jill was in no doubt that Odooga was accurate in
his prediction of her fate, should she be housed with the African
prisoners. As her cell door was locked she retreated to the furthest
corner of her cell to hide in the gloom.
Jill stayed huddled in the same corner all night, moving only to use
the drain when she had to. She slept fitfully, her exhaustion
competing with her fear and the aching discomfort of her buttocks
against the cold stone slabs. She awoke the next morning to find
several large cockroaches crawling over her naked body in search of
edible detritus. She screamed and leapt up, frantically brushing the
insects from her flesh.
Her cries roused some of the African prisoners who had their first
full view of the delectable white girl in the cell opposite. Jill
realised her mistake and quickly sat down, putting her back to the
bars, and her tormentors once again.
The second day passed much as the first, although Jill was even more
acutely aware of her exposure and vulnerability. She tried to think
only of survival, of getting home and of continuing to live. To think
about the sex she'd had to endure was to invite madness. To think
about the couplings yet to come was to invite collapse. She had not
been raped, that was what she had to keep telling herself.
It was around midday, when the heat was at its most oppressive, that
three guards made an unexpected appearance. It was not a mealtime and
yet they came to Jill's cell and unlocked the door. Any hopes she had
that her situation was about to improve were rapidly dashed as the men
dragged her to her feet and handcuffed her wrists to the cell bars
high above her head. When her ankles were then yanked apart and
strapped to the bars also, it had the effect of spread-eagling Jill
against the bars of her cells. She was presented open and totally
exposed to the other prisoners, who began to scream with excitement at
the new sight before them.
As soon as the guards had gone the Africans in the cell opposite began
trying to reach Jill across the walkway. To her horror some of the men
were just able to extend their arms far enough to brush her thighs and
breasts with their fingertips. It was then that something wet hit her
stomach. It took a moment for Jill to appreciate what it was. At first
she thought one of the prisoners had spat on her, until a familiar
sour smell reached her nose.
Within minutes all of the men were masturbating vigorously and
flinging handfuls of their semen at Jill's naked flesh. Jill cried out
in terror and disgust as gobs of sperm splattered against her face and
chest. The women joined in by spitting at Jill before some of the men
completed her humiliation - pressing themselves to the prison bars
they began to urinate over her. The separation of the cells meant that
they couldn't reach her upper body but their hot urine splashed over
her thighs and knees, pooling around her on the stone floor.
Jill hung in her bonds and wept. If anything the humiliation was
greater than her enforced sex with the guards the night before. At
least then she'd been the object of lust; now it seemed that the other
prisoners had only hatred for her. Before long her shoulders ached
desperately and Jill began to feel feint from having to stand in the
suffocating heat.
The guards left her pinioned against the bars until after sunset. When
they did reappear they dragged with them a large hose. One guard
slapped Jill's face to wake her.
"The boss wants you clean for tonight…" he said.
With that a powerful blast of water was directed at Jill, hosing away
her sweat and the filth thrown over her by the other prisoners. The
water was refreshing and Jill gratefully opened her mouth and gulped
it down.
When they were satisfied that she was clean, the guards freed Jill
from the cell bars and dragged her out. She was taken once more across
the compound to the office where she'd `entertained' her captors the
night before.
As she was shoved through the open door into the brightly lit room she
gasped at the sight before her. Whereas before only Odooga and his two
guards had received her, now there must have been around thirty men in
the room, all in uniform. Jill felt her legs sag beneath her as the
implication hit her. She was going to be expected to screw with every
man in the room, surely every soldier at the base. Clearly, now that
Odooga had enjoyed her, he intended to share her with all of his
subordinates.
A shout of appreciation went up around the room as the soldiers turned
and saw Jill for the first time. And she was indeed a delectable site.
Completely naked, her fair skin glistening wet and her damp blonde her
tousled around her face she was a vision of desirability that most
young African men can only dream about. Tonight, however, they were
going to do more than dream; tonight they were going to fuck this
young English girl, every last one of them.
Jill was close to panic as she was manhandled to the table in the
centre of the room and then dumped, unceremoniously, onto her back on
the hard wooden surface. Desperately she tried to control her racing
fear and to dissociate herself from what was happening. If she could
just remember that it was only sex, not rape, then she could wash
herself free from it afterwards. It was only her body that was being
screwed, not her mind.
As on the previous night, it was Odooga that mounted Jill first. He
slammed away at her with a persistence that belied his bulk and poor
physical condition. As he pumped at her Jill found herself pushed up
the wooden table until her head hung off the end. As she grimaced in
pain she tried to focus on the wall in front of her. It was the wall
behind Odooga's desk and Jill was looking at it upside down.
Something about the wall stirred a memory in Jill that she couldn't
place. Something missing, or perhaps something there that shouldn't
have been there. Before she could think any further her view was
blocked. She found herself looking the trousered crotch of a soldier.
As she watched, he unfastened the waistband of his uniform trousers
and pulled down the zip.
Jill found herself looking at a large, and rapidly hardening, black
penis. The soldier grabbed Jill's hair, pulling her head downwards,
and pushed his member against her mouth. Jill wretched as the smell
from the man's phallus hit her. The acrid stench suggested that he was
not in the habit of washing that part of his body. As pressed his
penis against Jill's lips he yanked on her hair, in case his meaning
had not been clear enough.
Although fearing she might vomit from the sickening smell, Jill
obediently opened her mouth and admitted the filthy organ. The taste,
like rotting meat, was no better. As the man pulled back his foreskin
Jill wretched and felt the cold chill of nausea rise up from her
knotted stomach. When trying to tell herself that she could mentally
withstand sex with these men, Jill had thought only of screwing.
Somehow that act, being further down the body, is less personal than
fellatio. The thought of having to suck some, or worse still, all of
them, was just overwhelming.
Fortunately the assault on Jill's mouth did not last long. Her
inverted position allowed the soldier to push his penis right to the
back of her mouth and down into her throat and he quickly ejaculated.
As she felt his warm semen surge into the back of her throat, Jill
thought he would never stop coming – so much did there seem to be. As
he withdrew, Jill tried desperately to clear her throat and to spit
out what she could of the vile fluid. In panic she thought back to
those AIDS leaflets. They had specified the swallowing of semen as
being a particularly risky behaviour and Jill knew enough about the
extent of HIV in Africa to realise that the odds were high that at
least one man in the room was carrying the virus.
There was hardly time for Jill to clear her mouth before it was filled
again. Lying on her back, looking up, she had a strange vantage point
on the assault on her body. She saw each man, his face distorted by
lust, as he unleashed his pulsing organ. Then her view would be
blocked as the soldier thrust his groin into her face. There would be
a few moments of choking panic as he pumped at her mouth, then the
rush of come into her throat. Sometimes, in her urgency to breath,
Jill would gulp down his slime, the risks momentarily forgotten.
All the while the battering of the other end of her body continued.
Men took their turn to mount her and ram themselves between her legs,
humping wildly in their urgency and mauling and biting at her breasts.
As each uncoupled more semen, and blood, would ooze out of Jill's
battered sex.
Presently there was a lull. After more than hour of ravaging sex the
men were temporarily slaked. Each had screwed Jill to his full
potential and each had sampled the moist warmth of her mouth and
throat. Now they milled around drinking and smoking, ignoring the girl
who they had shared. Jill lay limp on the table, as she'd been left.
Around her hips and thighs was a pool of semen, tinged pink with her
own blood. Her head hung backwards, drying sperm crusting her face and
matting her hair. She made no effort to move, too physically shattered
and emotionally blasted for rational thought. The only thought that
ran through mind was again about that wall – above Odooga's desk:
something missing, or something there that was out of place.
Before Jill could think any further she felt a jolt as strong hands
grasped her ankles and pulled her down the table. She was flipped over
onto her face and dragged far enough that her legs were off the table
and her feet on the floor. Her arms were pulled above her head and
held to prevent her sliding off altogether. Thus she found herself
lying bent over the edge of the table, face down in the pool of semen
that had leaked from between her legs. As she felt her legs being
forcibly parted Jill realised with horror what was to come. The third
and last opening of her body was about to be used just as the other
two had been.
Colonel Odooga was content to let one of his younger comrades begin
the exploration of Jill's remaining passage. The younger man had no
difficulty in achieving a granite like erection with which to impale
the whimpering young girl before him. Grasping her hips he drove his
member into her rectum, ripping through the inadequate resistance of
her quivering muscles.
Jill shrieked in pain as she felt her delicate membranes tear under
the merciless intrusion. She had never experienced `Greek culture' and
nothing had prepared her for agony of the assault, compared to which
the vaginal intercourse had been a mild discomfort. On and on it went,
the soldier's member feeling like a serrated knife to Jill as it sawed
back and forth into her tender flesh. Jill was close to feinting by
the time the first soldier withdrew from her and she passed out
several times during the couplings that followed.
When it was over she was carried back to her cell unconscious and
dumped naked on the stone floor.
It was early morning when Jill came to. She was shivering with cold
and shock and barely had the strength to sit up. When the guards
brought food to her she drank a little but was unable to eat. Her
mouth was puffy and her throat hoarse from the oral assaults. Her
labia were sore and bruised but, more worryingly, blood was still
oozing from her ravaged back-passage. Her only comfort, her only hope,
was that her flight was today and – if Odooga kept to his word - she
might be able to get medical treatment in the near future. Jill did
not let herself think about the consequences if Odooga did not keep to
his side of the bargain.
It was shortly after the prisoners were fed that the guards came for
Jill. She watched them approach desperately hoping that this might
mean her impending release. When the unlocked her cell she got
painfully to her feet and hobbled after them down the stone walkway.
As she went outside she saw the camp in daylight for the first time.
There were a few soldiers standing around and they watched the
battered, naked girl with bored detachment. Jill caught the eye of one
young man and thought for a moment that she saw a glint of remorse.
On entering Odooga's office Jill saw something that she had hardly
dared hope for; her suitcase and handbag, standing on the table where
last night she had been abused. She broke down, weeping with relief,
at the thought that she might, after all, have earned her freedom.
"Does this mean I can go?" she sobbed, looking up at Odooga with
pleading eyes.
"But of course my dear…" said Odooga unctuously, "…that was our
agreement."
Jill buried her face in her hands and wept again, all the pain and
terror of the previous night now released.
"However…" said Odooga, jolting the girl out of her tears, "…you did
agree to entertain ALL of my staff."
"But I did, last night…" sobbed Jill.
"All but one in fact," smiled Odooga, "and I know the remaining member
would not wish to miss you."
"Oh please…" said Jill, "…not any more, I'm bleeding."
"I do apologise if my men were a little vigorous in their attentions,
but I must insist that you fulfil your part of the bargain. He is
someone you will not forget in a hurry. We call him the Beefeater
because he has a particular taste for young white girls."
Jill stood trembling with fear. For a moment she had thought the
nightmare was behind her and she could push it to the back of her
mind. Now to have to repeat her humiliation in broad daylight, even if
only with one man, would bring all the horror back out into the open
where she would have to deal with it again.
She looked on uncomprehendingly as a soldier entered the room carrying
a strange piece of apparatus. Jill wondered if the man was `the
Beefeater' or if it was the strange device that he'd brought with him.
As it was placed on the floor Jill saw that it consisted of a wooden
board, about five feet long. At about its midpoint was a tubular metal
frame, standing perhaps eighteen inches high and looking a little like
a small athletics hurdle. With a shudder of dread Jill recognised that
at either end of the device were metal cuffs, clearly intended to
restrain the hands and feet. The position of a further set of large
cuffs close to the raised bar made the design all too clear. The
victim – Jill herself – would be forced to kneel beside the cross bar
and then bend down over it. With her hands and feet manacled the extra
set of cuffs would hold her knees apart ensuring the maximum exposure
for her and the maximum ease for her attacker.
Odooga smiled as he watched Jill deduce the cruel purpose of the
apparatus.
"Now my dear, if you would position yourself appropriately then we
will begin."
"But I've said I'll co-operate…" sobbed Jill, terrified of letting
herself be restrained in those dreadful cuffs.
"I think that when you meet the Beefeater your co-operation may wear a
little thin. Now please assume your position."
Desperate not to give Odooga any excuse for going back on what he had
agreed, Jill knelt down on the wooden board. One of the soldiers
adjusted the metal crossbar until it sat against her hips and then
pushed her down over it. When the manacles were fastened Jill was
trapped in a posture of classic vulnerability - head down, bottom up,
knees spread. Even with what she had experienced the night before, she
had never felt more exposed than she did at this moment.
Now Odooga, with some effort, knelt down next to Jill and produced a
small bottle and some rag from his pocket.
"Sometimes he needs a little encouragement…" he said with a chuckle.
He poured a little liquid from the bottle onto the rag and wiped it
across Jill's face. It had a pungent smell, like cough-medicine, and
Jill tasted a sweetness on her lips. Then Odooga reached behind her
and smeared a little of the fluid between her legs.
The Colonel heaved himself back to his feet and stuffed the rag back
into his jacket.
"Now it is time for you to meet the Beefeater…" he said, clapping his
hands.
Jill trembled violently in her bonds. She feared the Beefeater might
turn out to be a madman, or a giant who would tear her apart by his
sheer size. Whoever he was, the Beefeater must be terrifying indeed if
Odooga believed that Jill, after all she had consented to endure,
would not willingly couple with him.
Jill heard him before she saw him. Bound as she was she could not see
the door but she heard it open. She heard voices raised in excitement
and she heard heavy breathing. A wet, drooling, panting breath that
grew closer. It grew very close, until it was right behind her. Almost
inhuman in it's lustfulness. Almost animal. The realisation hit Jill
like a knife twisting in her stomach. She screamed in horror and
craned her head around to see a large German shepherd standing beside
her, it's wet tongue dangling disgustingly from its mouth.
The dog reached her face and licked greedily at the aniseed around her
mouth.
"I think he likes you…he's hard already…" she heard Odooga say.
Then the dog was led behind her again.
* * *
Jill stirred Gerald's coffee and placed the cup on the tray, together
with a small plate of biscuits. It was the Thursday of her first week
back at work since Africa. Jill had been off work for two weeks while
the damage to her rectum healed and she had been anxious to return to
work to try to find some kind of normality in her life again – to find
something to think about other than what had been done to her.
The journey back had been strangely uneventful after the horrors that
preceded it. Jill was driven to the airport in a military vehicle and
taken straight through passport control and customs. At the boarding
gate she'd found Gerald. She had almost forgotten about him since her
arrest. But there he was, though looking a little different than Jill
had seen him before. Some of his bluster had gone and he looked a
little crestfallen.
They hardly spoke on the flight and Gerald made only one reference to
Jill's ordeal.
"Sorry I dragged you into this. Thanks for getting us both out of it…"
he had said.
It wasn't much, but by Gerald's standards of arrogance this was a
major confession.
Back in the UK, Jill had wasted no time in seeking medical help. She
attended the Casualty department at St. Thomas' Hospital in London and
was given the benefit of all their rape support facilities. She was
told she was suffering from severe lacerations of the rectal lining
and blunt trauma of the vagina. Her initial HIV test was negative, but
– to her great distress – Jill was told that she could not be
absolutely sure that she wasn't infected for a further six months. She
also requested a test for rabies, mentioning only that a dog had
licked her mouth. She couldn't bear to relate to anyone, not even the
doctors, the full extent of her humiliation. One of the nurses had
come close to the truth though, when she'd asked Jill about the deep
scratches on her back and shoulders. The rabies test was also negative
although, like HIV, it would require a further screening to be
definite.
For Jill the most unexpected effect was her feelings toward Gerald.
Although rationally she knew that he was wholly to blame for her
suffering, she could not help but feel a certain kinship with him
knowing that they had survived the same nightmare. It was this that
made her decide to return to work with Gerald, to his surprise as much
as her own. Jill had wondered if there would be a job for her to go
back to, following the collapse of Gerald's diamond trafficking
scheme. In the event it had seemed pretty much business as usual when
she returned.
Jill knocked at Gerald's door and went in with the coffee things. He
was in the midst of a phone call.
"…yes, I want the leather seats, cruise control, and the satellite
gizmo…" she heard him say.
Gerald nodded as she placed the tray on his desk.
As she turned to leave Jill was struck by a feeling of déjà vu. For a
moment it was as if she was back in Odooga's office, on that table.
Feeling tears well up in her eyes, Jill hurried from the room.
Back at her own desk, Jill tried to grapple with the feelings. What
was it about Gerald, or his office that had brought it all back? It
was that same thoughts that she'd had during the assault: something
missing – or something there that shouldn't have been.
Jill tried to concentrate on her work but the feeling, and it's
terrible associations, wouldn't leave her. When Gerald went out for
lunch she came to a decision. She would go back into his office and
try to face the sensations and overcome them. Summoning up her courage
she opened the door and went in.
As she surveyed Gerald's room she told herself there was no reason to
let it stir up all her fears again. It was just an office that was
all. Nothing like Odooga's office in any way. A desk, a chair, a
plant, some photos on the wall.
Then, in an instant, there it was. Nothing remarkable really, just a
photograph of a group of men in uniform - but a photograph that Jill
knew she had seen very recently in another place. She took it down
from the wall to examine it more closely. The men in the picture were
all grinning moronically at the camera, very pleased with themselves.
The little brass plaque on the picture frame read `Tactical Command
Training School 1979'. Gerald was there – much younger, but quite
recognisable. And, standing out among the white faces, was a black
one. A young Negro man, slightly overweight – a wide smile splitting
his round face.
Jill spun around as she heard a movement behind her.
"Clever girl!" said Gerald, the mocking sneer back on his face. "Quite
the little detective aren't we…"
Jill looked at Gerald and then back to the photo.
"It's that man, Colonel Odooga, isn't it?"
"Of course."
"So you know him?"
"Known him for years, he's a nice guy."
Jill leant against the desk for support, fearing her legs would give
way under her as she fought to comprehend the turn of events.
"Did you plan my arrest, and everything?" she asked.
"Just the broad outline, I left the details to Ben. I told him I had a
pretty, blonde secretary who could use a good seeing-to."
"But…do you know what they did to me?" asked Jill, beginning to cry.
"Of course I know…" laughed Gerald, "…I was watching!"
Jill swallowed hard, fighting against the urge to vomit.
"You mean you did all that to me just because I wouldn't sleep with
you?" she sobbed.
"No, no, no. Not just because of that. You gave me the idea when you
wouldn't play ball, but mostly I needed a batch of diamonds and
someone to bring them through customs for me."
"What d'you mean?" gasped Jill between choking sobs.
"I mean that, in exchange for your services, Ben Odooga provided me
with a consignment of uncut stones and that you carried them through
UK customs in your luggage. Actually you should be grateful to me; Ben
wanted you for the whole five days originally, but I bargained him
down to two nights."
As Jill stood before him, trembling with shock and disgust, Gerald
casually opened his desk drawer and took out a brown envelope which he
tossed onto the desktop.
"That's you're P45. Now clear your desk and get out. And don't think
about going to the police. The diamonds are long gone and all the
money is properly accounted for. Anyway, it was you that brought them
into the country not me."
Jill set down the photograph on the desk and picked up the envelope
with shaking hands. As she left the office and walked unsteadily to
her own desk Gerald called after her.
"Don't worry, I'm sure you'll get another job soon enough. Perhaps you
should think about working with animals…"
