In this fifth chapter, W arrives at New Kakwa in his attempt to rescue his niece, Little D. It is a trap, but isn’t it always. The Divine General Agua Amin treats W to a rehearsal of his slave extravaganza which is a part of his slave sale, scheduled for the day.
This is a 25,000 word book broken down into seven chapters.
WARNING! All of my writing is intended for adults over the age of 18 ONLY. Stories may contain strong or even extreme sexual content. All people and events depicted are fictional and any resemblance to persons living or dead is purely coincidental. Actions, situations, and responses are fictional ONLY and should not be attempted in real life.
All characters involved in sexual activity in this story are over the age of 18. If you are under the age of 18 or do not understand the difference between fantasy and reality or if you reside in any state, province, nation, or tribal territory that prohibits the reading of acts depicted in these stories, please stop reading immediately and move to somewhere that exists in the twenty-first century.
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The Divine General Agua Amin
Despite my promise to Tat that I wouldn’t be alone, I was. I was the only one in the beat up old Range Rover as I drove down the dusty narrow road toward New Kakwa, the small area held– and named– by the Divine General Agua Amin and his followers. I had contacted him with the proposal of selling him some specialized sex equipment or perhaps purchasing a new slave from his inventory. It wasn’t a great cover story, but I was known for both. I have sold a lot of specialized sex equipment, and I occasionally purchase slaves, though every slave I have ever purchased was for the purpose of freeing them or getting them to a benevolent Master or Mistress.
Maybe it was because the sun was low and slightly in my eyes, or perhaps it was because I had been driving all day, but I didn’t see the soldiers until they fired several rounds from an automatic weapon into the dirt in front of the Rover. I stopped and kept my hands firmly on the steering wheel even when someone opened the left-hand door and barked out in English, “Are you friend or enemy?”
I lifted my left hand slightly and pointed to the large CBE crest printed on the paper taped to the corner of the windshield. Like the original General, this Amin claimed to be “Conqueror of the British Empire.”
“I have been invited by General Amin,” I said calmly. At least I hoped it sounded calm.
“I will ride with you,” the soldier said as he slid into the passenger seat. He was apparently an officer of some sort because his uniform was cleaner and more embellished than the others. He barked out an order in a language I didn’t understand and the other soldiers melted back into the greenery alongside the road.
The tall foliage soon disappeared and farmland was now on both sides of the road. Every so often there were heavy posts dug into the earth on both sides of the road as if there had once been a gate or something across the road. Each post was at least six feet high and from the top of the posts, two or three human skulls were hung on lengths of fence wire. The skulls looked old and weathered as if they had been there– or somewhere– for a long time.
“Warnings to trespassers and invaders,” the officer said flatly as we drove past.
The next set of posts didn’t have skulls. Instead there were three naked women on each side of the road hanging with their backs to the posts. One of them was calling out for us to help them. “Please help us,” she cried out. “We are being eaten alive by the bugs and snakes.”
As we approached, I could see the officer watching me carefully. The six women didn’t look emaciated and they weren’t really hanging from the chains. Instead they were merely standing around the post with their arms in the air. They couldn’t have been there very long. I rolled the dice in my head and decided that this was a compassion trap. If I slowed down, or stopped to try to help them, it would mean that I did not have the proper hard heart... or at least I didn’t have the hard heart of a slave trader.
My suspicion was confirmed when after we passed the women, the officer said, “You are a tough man, Mister W. The General will be well pleased.”
I hadn’t told him my name, so I had been expected and the compassion trap had definitely been set for me.
I remained silent as we continued down the road. As we approached the enclosed compound there were a series of smaller posts alongside the road with a chainlink fence stretched between them. Against the fence on one side as we neared the gate were a dozen or so naked figures. Most were male, but there were a couple of females among them. All looked as if they had been beaten, or perhaps they were the losers in some sort of battle. Two of the men had collapsed and were hanging from their chains.
“These are invaders or enemies of the people,” the officer said roughly. Had I thought I could do any good, I would have stopped to help these unfortunates. They had obviously been there at least a day or two and didn’t look like they could last much longer. As I drove past, the naked figure closest to the gate lifted his head and stared out at me as if in shock. It was Special Agent Anthony Bricker. Agent Hugo was standing next to him. He didn’t lift his head, but his barrel-shaped body was rather distinctive.
The officer laughed as we went through the gate and said, still laughing, “This is the fate of anyone who rises up against the Divine Amin.” He then directed me to park behind a large raised platform.
As I came to a stop, a rather portly middle-aged black man in an elaborate uniform waddled up to the open window of the Land Rover. “Welcome, W, welcome!” he said enthusiastically as he stuck out his hand. “You are just in time for the celebration.”
I shook his hand and then got out of the Rover. “What are we celebrating?” I asked as I stepped alongside him.
“We are celebrating that my fellow gods have once again protected me from all my enemies,” he said with a big smile. He looked overjoyed as he pointed to the naked figures outside the gate and said, “I will sell these invaders as drudge slaves in some shithole place where no one will ever find them.” He then snickered loudly. It was a real snicker. It has been a long time since I have seen anyone snicker like a playground bully tormenting the younger children.
Someone pushed a glass of something into my hand and I lifted it in salute to the General, “Thus ever to invaders,” I said as I sipped a very small amount of the obnoxious liquid that was evidently supposed to be a wine of some sort.
“Come, come,” he said excitedly. “Join me on the platform and we will watch the slaves display themselves for a possible buyer.”
He looked at me and chuckled, “Don’t puff yourself up too much, W. This is just a rehearsal for my big sale tomorrow. Tomorrow I will have a hundred or more bidders here on the platform and by the end of the day my supply of slaves will be almost gone. But in a way, tonight is still a special performance just for you.”
He smiled broadly at me and I tried to smile back at him as I followed him up the steps to the platform. His throne was at least a foot higher than anything else on the platform, so as I sat next to him, I was barely able to look over the arm rests. That did have the advantage that he couldn’t see my right hand as I slowly poured a bit of the terrible wine onto the floor beneath his throne before raising it to my mouth and pretending to drink. The guards standing behind us were much more interested in what was going on around us... or in front of us, so I safely repeated that several times until the glass was about half-empty.
The general raised his hand and moved it in a small circle several times as if signaling for an engine to start. Almost immediately, a heavy beat of drums filled the air and naked slaves began walking out into the large open area from behind one of the buildings on the edge of the compound. There were six columns of slaves. Each column was led by a rather muscular, naked man standing between the traces of small drag sledges. Their muscles tensed as they pushed against the front bar that went across the traces. On each of the sledges was a small stack of concrete blocks.
“Drudge slaves,” the General said with a smile. “... good ones.” He paused and his voice changed slightly, “They don’t bring in much money,” he continued, “but the sight of them keeps the local men in line.”
Behind the drudges were several rows of naked women. Most of them were native Africans, but there were also several Asian-looking women and two or three whites. Their bodies were all heavily oiled and they were walking in a very stylized way. Their hands were held open and palm down as they brought their arms up in a waving motion, almost like a snake, until they were straight out from their shoulders. Then the wave was repeated as the hand came back down to waist level while the other arm snaked its way up.
They were walking– or perhaps slowly prancing would be a better de***********ion– totally on tip toe as if wearing very high heels, but they were totally naked. The overall result looked very much like some very sensuous dance. Perhaps it was a courtship or fertility dance of some sort in the local culture. Or, more likely, it was just the general’s way of making the women look more appealing to the buyers. I wondered how long it took Amin’s men to train them to walk like that... and then to do it synchronized to a drum beat and each other.
The prancing slaves stopped in front of the General’s throne. They turned and faced him. Then, in perfect synchronization, they ran their hands up and down their bodies while doing very exaggerated pelvic thrusts. With each pelvic thrust, they would do a little jump-hop that moved their feet further and further apart. After a few minutes, their feet were wide apart and their cunts were gaping widely as they thrust themselves forward. It took a great deal of skill and strength to remain on their feet as they leaned back, still thrusting, until they were looking up at the sky.
The beat of the drums changed slightly and they quickly stood up, brought their feet together, and turned to face away from the General. They then bent slightly to push their asses out and treated him to a twerking dance that was again synchronized to the beating drum. After a few moments of this, they dropped to their hands with their asses raised high in the air. They twerked in time to the drum while rotating their asses in circles in the air. After several beats, they began doing exaggerated reverse pelvic thrusts. With their asses held so high in the air while they twerked, both their cunts and their rosebuds were winking at me.
“What do you think?” the General asked almost excitedly.
“They are impressive,” I said, and he replied, “The best is yet to come.” Then he added, “Drink up. Drink up.”
Whenever anyone is urging me to drink up, I become suspicious of the drink. Maybe I should say more suspicious of the drink. Anyone who knows me knows that I am very careful about what I accept to eat or drink from potential adversaries... or even friends.
I put the drink to my mouth and pretended to sip the bitter wine. If the drums hadn’t gone into a frenzy I might have actually had to drink some of that godawful stuff. Instead the Divine Amin turned to watch the naked dancers as they bounced up and down in a frantic native step of some sort. They kept up that intense dance as they moved slowly out of the open field and once again behind some of the buildings of the compound.
While they were leaving, I carefully poured almost all of the drink onto the ground beneath the General’s throne. I didn’t totally empty the glass because I didn’t want it refilled. As long as there was a little bit in there I could pretend to sip at it. If it was empty, I would have to start all over.
After the naked dancers had left, a single column of strong-looking men carrying five cages walked into the open area in front of the platform. The cages were supported on long poles with four men carrying each cage. The men were not naked, but instead were wearing leopard skin loincloths. It may or may not have been appropriate native attire, but it looked very much to me like something out of a grade B jungle movie.
Adding to the movie-like appearance of everything, huge banks of lights came on as the cages processed past us. The five people in the cages stared up at the platform. Since the sun had not quite yet set, they could probably see us. Once the sun set, the lights above and behind us would blind them and we would be nothing more than shadows and silhouettes.
“The bearers are not for sale,” the General said brightly. Then he smiled and added, “... unless the offering price is high enough.” So much for loyalty to your troops.
The cages were narrow enough that the women had to stand upright. I did not recognize the first two women, but the third was Mistress Nora and the fourth was Tatiana. As Tat passed in front of us, she gave me– or perhaps the General– a look of extreme hatred. I watched her head turn as she passed and she was definitely glaring at me or someone directly behind me.
Standing in the fifth cage was Little D. She was standing holding on to the front bars of the cage with her face pressed out between the bars. She must have been drugged because, unlike the other four women, she didn’t look angry or afraid. If anything she looked aroused.
As her cage passed in front of the General, a look of recognition suddenly appeared on her face. Her naked body reddened slightly and she looked down as if in shame. Whatever drug they had given her, she was still able to recognize me.
The bearers placed the cages in a large semi-circle in front of the General’s platform and followed the dancers back behind the compound buildings. Each of the cages was especially illuminated by lights focused on them from the light towers behind me.
“Do you see anything that interests you?” the General asked, leaning down slightly to speak to me.
I remained silent. This was beginning to look more and more like a very elaborate trap.
He clapped his hands loudly and two somewhat obese, but very strong-looking men walked out and bowed to him. Then they opened the first cage and dragged out the naked black woman. All that the men were wearing were very small leopard print loin cloths. As the woman struggled against them, the cloths were brushed aside revealing a nasty looking scar... and no prick or balls. The men were full eunuchs. From their body shapes, they had been for many years.
“She was my wife... for a while...” the General said smugly. “But she has displeased me, so she is to be sold.” He smiled and said, “But she is a very good cocksucker, and you English seem to like that so much.”
Five men in uniform walked out and stood in a line facing the General. They bowed slightly to him and then formed a line leading up to where the naked woman was being held by one of the eunuchs. The eunuch threw the woman to the ground and barked out an order in a language I didn’t recognize.
“If you understood Swahili,” the General explained. “You would know that he is ordering her to suck their cocks. And if she does not finish in six minutes, they will all fuck her in the ass.”
He smiled and said, “She tried to refuse that to me. That is why she is being sold as an anal slave.”
The naked slave dropped to her knees in front of the first soldier and quickly unzipped his pants. His prick was already somewhat hard so she had a little difficulty pulling it from his pants. She immediately sucked it into her mouth and began bobbing up and down on his shaft. Evidently the thought of being sucked off by the former wife of the Divine General was enough to cause him to pop extremely fast.
As soon as he ejaculated, the naked slave wasted no time moving to the next man. This time she quickly unbuckled the man’s belt and opened his pants to pull out his prick. This man was totally hard and it would have been almost impossible to get his huge prick out by just opening the zipper. She put her mouth over the tip of his prick and began licking, but he reached down and forced her head down against his crotch. She obviously gagged slightly, but recovered and quickly began bobbing on the massive prick.
He may have already been hard, but he didn’t have a hair trigger like the first man. The slave ex-wife began bobbing frantically trying to get the man to come. Finally she reached up and began stroking his ball sack as she bobbed. Then her fingers moved slightly back and she pressed a finger against his puckered anus. That evidently did the trick and he erupted into her mouth. The amount of cum was impressive as it flowed out of her mouth and began to dribble off her face onto her breasts.
She raced to the third man. Again, she opened his pants to retrieve his prick. He was also hard, but his prick was far from massive. She only bobbed once or twice on him before pulling away and letting his cum spurt onto her body.
The fourth man was almost laughing, or perhaps just leering at her as she approached. She quickly opened his pants and then startled for a moment. The man’s prick was bent sideways almost in a half-circle. He obviously had peyronie's– bent penis disease, perhaps from the African practice of “snapping” his penis to make his erection go down in the morning.
It was obvious that twisted prick wasn’t going to fit easily into her mouth, so the slave began licking up and down the bent shaft while stroking the man’s scrotum and ass. She then moved slightly so that she could lick the head of his penis as if it were a big lollipop. The combination of all of that finally had the desired effect and he spurted against her face and open mouth.
She didn’t stop to wipe the cum from her lips or face, but instead hurried to the last man. He was standing quietly staring up at the sky. Evidently he was successfully distracting himself from what was occurring around him because when she pulled his prick from his pants, it was still flaccid. She sucked the prick into her mouth and began moving her head in small circles as she sucked and tongued, hoping to get him hard.
The smile on his face, and the fact that she switched to face fucking herself on his prick indicated that she had succeeded. His stiff prick, when you could see it, didn’t appear to be overly massive, but from the movements of her head and the fact that she appeared to gag several times, it was obviously longer than most.
The eunuch called out something and the naked slave woman began bobbing furiously. The man was once again looking up at the sky. He was not making it easy for her. Then a loud bell rang and he reached down and forced the slave’s face tight against his crotch. He let out a long, loud groan then the pulled her head away from his prick and pushed her sideways to the ground.
“Unfortunately,” the General said, “she did not complete her task in six minutes.”
He turned to the soldiers and said loudly, “You may have her ass.” He paused for a moment and then added, “... all except bent nail.” He laughed slightly and said, “You would tear her apart and ruin her price in the auction.”
The four men forced the woman onto her hands and knees and wiped some of the cum from her face and body to use as lubricant. Then the four of them did some odd motion with their right hands. Evidently it was an African form of rock, paper, scissors because after that the order was determined.
The one with the long, narrow prick was first. Perhaps that was best for the woman as it would open her up for the others. The second man was the one with the hair trigger. Even performing for a second time he still fired off almost immediately. The third man was the one with the undersized prick. He did last much longer this time. Last and definitely not least was the man who had been meditating. He again seemed to be detached from what was occurring in front of him. He was hard enough to enter her, but she was pretty well opened up by the other three men. He reached down and grabbed her by the waist and began pulling her toward himself and then pushing her away. All the while he was doing this he was looking up at the sky. It was almost as if he were masturbating himself with her asshole. He went on for a long, long time.
The woman was crying out something in the native language. The general began laughing. “She is begging him to finish,” he said. “She is saying that she wants his cum high up in her bowels. She is telling him how much he is turning her on.”
The general’s face suddenly became very hard. “All lies,” he said. “She hates anal and threatened to kill me if I ever tried to take her that way. ME!”
He stood up and yelled something I couldn’t understand. The soldier understood, however, and suddenly pushed the woman flat into the ground. He then began pounding into her ass like a jackhammer. She was screaming with each thrust, but he ignored her and kept going. After only a few moments he stiffened and held himself tight against her ass. He then stood up, leaving her crying in the dust.
“Put her back in the cage,” the General roared. And the eunuchs grabbed her and took her back to her cage. She wouldn’t... or perhaps couldn’t... stand, so one eunuch reached through the bars to hold her up while the other closed and locked the door. She then collapsed back down against the bars.