It took about an hour for Turk and Lenny to travel the last 20 miles to Stoner’s compound. There was nothing wrong with the road, but every couple of miles there would be some of Stoner’s soldiers, nervously fingering their weapons. It was well that they had the two soldiers in the rear of the Jeep to advise the others that these two important white men, who had come to buy the master’s metals, could pass. Of course, the soldiers could see from the color of their skin that they were not rebels. However, they were riding a nice Jeep, something that would be quite handy if there was a need for a quick getaway. Stoner’s soldiers enjoyed killing and plundering for him. They just didn’t want to die for him.
The Turk’s heart skipped a beat when they finally reached the compound. They were admitted through a large solid metal gate and waived on towards the main house. “There it is,” he thought. “They’re in there, I know it.”
The Jeep was allowed to pull up to the veranda. The two soldiers got out and started their long walk back to their post. They would bring back with them the latest rumors.
Turk got out of the jeep cautiously. There was no one to greet them. That was fine with him. He pulled out his cell phone and called Nora who was at that moment circling about fifty miles away in the seaplane. “We’re in,” was all he said. He turned to Lenny who was still sitting in the jeep and said, “Go in the house and see if there’s anybody around. I’m going around the back to see what’s what. The girls have got to be somewhere inside. I’m going to try and find them.”
Lenny nodded and watched Turk stroll around the side of the huge mansion. He took his time walking up the steps to the veranda. Just as he got to the top, a tall black man appeared. “Are you in charge here?” Lenny asked him.
Jeremiah had just finished locking all of the servants in the cellar of the mansion as Stoner had ordered. So when Turk came around to the back, he was able to slip in the house unchecked. He came into a storage room of some kind that led into the kitchen. Quietly he made his way through it, making sure that he peered around every corner. He had the Glock out, a shell in the chamber.
“It can’t be this easy,” Turk thought to himself. He stepped down a long hallway that led to the front of the house. He stopped by the long, curving staircase and looked up. Undoubtedly the girls’ bedrooms were upstairs. But would they be there? He would have to walk up and see. He had gotten to about the fourth step when he heard someone behind him. He turned quickly only to see five AK-47’s pointed directly at him, each one backed up by a determined looking native soldier. Standing in the middle of them was a cruel looking, tall black man who seemed to be their leader. Next to him was Lenny.
“Hiya, Turk,” Lenny said mockingly. “You should’ve come up with that extra fifty thou. I think this big fella just outbid you.”
Turk leered viciously at Lenny. “That scumbag,” he thought. “I’ll get him if it’s the last thing I do.”
The tall fellow spoke. “Come down the stairs, Mr. Turk and keep that weapon pointed upwards. If you fail to do so, these men will certainly shoot you down.”
The Turk reluctantly obeyed. When he was an arm’s length from the soldiers, one stepped forward and removed the Glock from his hand. He looked at it gleefully and placed it in his belt. He then swung the stock of the automatic rifle at Turk’s head. Turk saw stars and then everything went black.
* * *
Kurim, Stoner’s general had led his forces deep into the bush in pursuit of the rebels. He had hop-scotched men all along the trails with the helicopter. The rebels would be in for a surprise as they found his men dug in behind them. He had just landed with another contingent of thirty joining a hundred or so that had been airlifted in earlier. His men would now drive the rebels into the guns of his men in the path of their retreat. He blew his whistle and the men advanced in a long line. Ten men had been left behind to guard the helicopter.
As they stepped forward, Kurim’s men found the bush to be eerily quiet. Nothing could be heard other than the cracking of sticks as they were stepped on by the men or the chopping noises of their large bolo knives as they hacked away at the vines and bushes that impeded them.
Suddenly, they heard automatic weapon fire behind them. The helicopter was under attack. As they turned to protect their lifeline, a roar rose in the jungle before them. Three hundred armed men dashed out of the dense, green overgrowth and charged, firing automatic weapons wildly or wielding long bolo knives and spears. Kurim’s soldiers where overwhelmed. The fighting became hand to hand and the mercenaries were no match for the fervent revolutionaries. There was a bitter firefight. As one after another went down, the soldiers began to lose confidence in their ability to stem the onrushing rebels. The firing from the landing zone had stopped. The soldiers panicked. Kurim was able to pull a few men together with him into a gully where they could make a stand. The other men were hunted down, one by one and slaughtered.
Kurim had maybe twenty men with him in the gully. He pulled out his cell phone to call for reinforcements from Stoner only to see that a bullet had pierced it. He laughed and tossed it away. A moment later, a line of rebels advanced on the gully firing the weapons they had just captured. It was over in a few minutes.
* * *
The Turk awoke on the floor of the concrete building that sat about 50 yards from the mansion. His head was sore and his vision was blurred. His hands were tied behind him and his feet were tied together. Next to him was a small, naked, blond woman. She was also tied hand and foot. She was awake.
“Monsieur,” she said to him, “are you all right?”
“I don’t know,” the Turk answered.
Justine had been dumped in the concrete hut by the soldiers who Jeremiah had ordered to take her from the Discipline Room. They wanted first crack at her so, rather than taking her to the barracks, they brought her here. Her arms were tied behind her back and her ankles were crossed and bound. She was desperate to escape, even if it meant her death. Her eyes scoured the room for something to cut her bonds with. In a moment of inspiration, she had crawled into the shower and had managed to lift the drain cover out. She had been trying to cut through the leather thongs around her wrists with it when different soldiers dragged the Turk in. She hadn’t had much luck.
The Turk shook his head and everything became a little more steady and clear. He looked at the bound girl beside him. “She must be one of Stoner’s white slaves,” he thought. He spoke to her.
“Where is Cheryl,” he asked.
Justine’s eyes lit up. “You must be Turk!” she exclaimed, amazed.
“How do you know who I am?” the Turk asked her, incredulous.
“Cheryl said you would come. We didn’t believe her. But here you are!”
A surge of hope ran through the Turk. All of these months he had hoped that he had not mistaken the exchange of passion between him and Cheryl those few moments in her apartment. And now he heard that she was expecting him. He had feared that his obsession with Cheryl was just an illusion, that nothing had passed between them that night. But he had not been wrong. She had felt it too.
“Yes,” he replied to the blond girl. “Here I am. Not much good where I’m sitting now though.”
“But I have something,” Justine said. “It has an edge. We can use it to cut through the leather!”
“Turn around,” Turk ordered. Justine turned her back to him and showed him the steel plate. He looked at it. “This could work,” he thought. Since his hands were stronger, he told Justine to give the plate to him. They would get back to back and he would saw through one of the strands of leather that encircled her wrists. When their backs were touching, he felt the bindings around her wrists until he could lift one and insert a finger. With his other hand, he began to saw through it.
* * *
Denise had spent almost all of her hour of agony when Jeremiah returned to the Discipline Room. He would leave the fate of the Turk to Stoner. Stoner would probably want to make the sisters watch while he skinned him alive or something like that. It would be good to see a white man die.
Jeremiah peered inside the little eye holes to let Denise know that he was there. Her muffled cries and pleas echoed inside her torture chamber. He looked at his watch. There was three minutes to go. He could wait.
The impaled girl was almost beyond her wits. The pain had been excruciating. The shocks would not stop. Her muscles were strained from the contractions of her body from the more intense ones. Even the little ones were now agonizing as she braced herself for the strong one that was sure to follow. When she saw Jeremiah through the little window, she tried to beg and plead with him to release her. She would tell him anything, do anything. She had never imagined that it was possible to feel so desperate, so powerless.
When the full hour was up, Jeremiah turned off the electric box. He opened the cover and released Denise from her bindings. The girl was shaking from her ordeal. She looked at Jeremiah fearfully, praying that he would not torture her any more. She hoped and prayed that she could satisfy his questions. Jeremiah helped her rise off of the probes that had filled her. When she was fully out of the apparatus, she fell to the floor and, kneeling over, tried to kiss his feet. Of course she was still gagged, but it made no difference to her. She wanted to express her supplication to Jeremiah in the clearest, plainest way.
The overseer laughed. He reached down and released the gag from behind her head. When the gag was out, she resumed her worship of his feet, licking and kissing his toes and instep. “Get up on your knees, white bitch!” Jeremiah ordered. He had no sympathy for these stupid women.
“Please don’t hurt me any more, please, oh please!” Denise begged. Tears were running down her face. Then she remembered Jeremiah’s final words to her before he locked her in the devilish device. “Oh please, master, please let me suck your cock, please, I beg you,” she cried out abjectly.
Jeremiah just stood and looked at her. It was ironic that the stupid white man named Lenny had already told him everything. But this one needed to be broken anyway. Now she was. Everything usually worked out for the best.
Denise was now nuzzling his crotch, hoping to get her lips on his manhood. He grabbed her by the hair and pulled her head away. He was wearing his usual white caftan, and needed to draw it off of himself before she could do him service.
When he stood naked before her, Denise seized his cock with her lips. Jeremiah’s cock was hard with anticipation and she was able to slide her lips down the thick shaft. Her tongue worked frantically to pleasure Jeremiah’s stiff instrument. She began to bob her head back and forth rapidly in her desperate desire to bring him pleasure. But Jeremiah was having none of that. He grabbed her hair and stilled her head.
“Just keep your mouth open, white slut, I will do the work,” he said to her contemptuously. He began to slowly work Denise’s head back and forth over his cock. He pushed it down against his loins, feeding his thick piece into her throat. He then withdrew it slowly, until only the tip was between her lips.
Denise soon got the rhythm that the slave master desired. She let her tongue float over the iron rod that pierced her throat and pursed her lips around the shaft when the powerful black man drew it out again. At this moment, having Jeremiah’s cock in her mouth and pleasuring him was the greatest thing in the world, the object of her heart’s desire. She was grateful that she was permitted to show him her complete surrender. She joyfully felt the thick rod pass the entrance to her esophagus and fill it to bursting. Fire was building in her loins as she let her passion run wild. She imagined the thick meat pummeling her pussy. She wanted this terrifying black man to fill all her holes at once, to possess her absolutely.
Jeremiah slowly let his lust build. Now that his doubts had been cleared away by the capture of the Turk, this slut was proving her worth. He would be sure to express his gratitude to the foolish white man for arranging to have her sent to Katango.
Jeremiah felt his surge of lust coming on. He pushed Denise’s head fully against his stomach. Her throat bulged as his manhood filled it. His cock began to throb and then he felt the shock of his orgasm go through him. He pumped his seed down the white slut’s throat, rolling his eyes back in ecstasy. Denise was struggling for air as he jetted his last spasm of fluid into her belly. He pulled himself from her mouth and let her slump on the ground before him. Maybe tomorrow they would have the wedding and the day after he would bring her back here for more agony and pleasure. Next time he wanted to hear her scream with pain.
* * *