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ROBIN'S FALL
Robin rang the bell for a third time. No one came. He stamped his foot with irritation; just wait until he found Jomo, he'd give him a good beating! Yes, a good beating with his belt. He loved that, especially when he made Jomo drop his shorts first. And afterwards, of course, the house-boy would suck his willy, even though he did not wish to.
Robin rang again. Nothing. He left his room anxious to find the missing house-boy and thrash him as he had done so many times before. He went into the kitchen. No one. He went across to the native quarters. Empty! With sinking heart he realised the household servants had fled. It could mean only one thing, the rebels were in the area. And there he was, a mere lad, on his own, with no protection. What to do? He decided to hide in the secret basement, his uncle had constructed for just such an eventuality.
One hour. Two hours, then he heard the sound of many feet and the crash of furniture as the station quarters were ransacked. Robin waited. The rebels went away; silence returned to the station. Robin remained hidden. Another hour. He continued to wait. Help would come, surely! Then he heard it, a faint noise above his head.
"Are you there, bwana?" It was the familiar voice of his personal boy, Jomo. Soon the two boys were united. The black-boy stared at his white master. Was there a hint of triumph in his eyes? If so, Robin didn't notice; he was too frightened, and too relieved to find help at hand.
"Come with me, quickly" hissed Jomo. "They are coming back, and this time they will find you. You must escape now."
What could Robin do but follow his house-boy's advice. He looked at the lad, his hard body glistening in the faint light. He was in a loin- cloth, a skimpy loin-cloth. There was no time to question him. Nor could Robin object when the boy ordered him to remove shoes and socks. Two bare-foot boys walking through the bush would not be tracked, but a boy in shoes? There was no gainsaying the bright-eyed lad's instruction.
They walked through the bush for four hours then took shelter. Throughout the day they watched, then moved on. The member of the ruling-race and his "faithful" servant; already Robin was composing his letter of recommendation which would bring Jomo his medal. Little did he realise! But then he was so used to telling the boy what to do - and punishing him when he failed to satisfy. How could Robin know that he was about to experience a reversal of roles.
They came at last to Jomo's people. The thorn bush hedge protected from lions and other undesirables those who lived within. Jomo gave the tribal call, and was answered. They rose and walked into the compound together, the black boy in his little leather loin-cloth and the white boy, still in his imperial whites, though minus his shoes and socks.
The chief, a huge black man, came out of his hut, in one hand he carried the fly whisk symbol of his authority, in the other a short, vicious looking whip. Behind him were the warriors, tall silent, near-naked men, each armed with spears and shield.
Robin stepped forward. "I am the District Officer's nephew, and this is my boy. We seek your shelter and protection until the rebels pass."
"We know who you are, boy."
The use of the word boy was a deliberate, calculated insult. Robin stared hard at the chief, the chief stared back. It was against custom; natives always lowered their eyes when addressing a white man.
"Look, you don't seem to understand. If you protect us, my uncle will reward you."
The chief laughed. His men laughed. Suddenly Robin felt very frightened and very alone. He turned to Jomo for support. There was a hardness, a triumph in the lad's eyes that bode ill. Had the boy betrayed his master?
A wave and the group now including the two boys returned to the council hut. The men retreated to the far end and fell to discussion. The boys waited by a sturdy wooden post set in the middle of the room. Robin noted with alarm the pair of chains and manacles which hang from the top of the post.
"What's going on?" whispered the lone white boy.
"They are deciding what to do with you" replied Jomo.
The chief rose as did two of his younger warriors who came across and stood either side of the luckless white-boy.
"You are charged with bad acts on my nephew, Jomo. What do you say, white-boy?"
"You can't do this to me!" shouted Robin, stamping his bare-foot on the packed earthen floor. "I am the District Officer's nephew!" he screamed.
For answer, the chief simply gave a slight nod of his head and instantly the two guards sprang on the lad. In an attack furious in its violence Robin had his clothes quite literally ripped from his body. In seconds he was naked and exposed before the grinning natives. Instinctively, he reached down to cover his private parts, but his hands were grabbed and his arms raised to be secured to the manacles. There he was manacled and chained, his naked body exposed and vulnerable. The shame of it. Robin blushed red, terribly conscious of his exposed penis and balls. Exposed before blacks!
The chief came closer, his huge stomach pressing against Robin's, a fat, near-naked native rubbing up against England's pride. He reached between the lad's legs and grabbed his balls and gave them such a fierce squeeze Robin screamed with the pain.
"Did you hurt my Jomo?"
"Nooo. Nooo. I didn't."
"Liar!" cried Jomo, his eyes bright with revenge. "The white-boy, he beat me many times for no good reason. And made me suck his ..." (He used an Ashanti word for penis.) He is a ntanga" (he used another Ashanti word, this one roughly translating as licker of boys's arses.)
"Is that true" persisted the chief, squeezing Robin's balls even harder. "Did you use him like that?"
"No! I didn't."
"The truth will now be whipped out of you."
The chief released the captive balls and returned to his council seat. Robin watched with horror as the two young warriors armed themselves each with a long springy wand. And then without warning they began to whip him. Two, three times they struck hard across his naked thighs, cutting his cock into the bargain. Robin screamed with agony and spun round to face the post, desperate to save his penis. Now his young bum was presented to view, and was whipped. The pain was almost as bad. He screamed, again and again, until he could bare it no longer.
"I admit it! I admit it! Please stop them. Pleeese!"
A nod from the chief and the beating stopped.
"Answer before the elders. Did you beat him?"
"Yes." sobbed Robin.
"And did you make him suck your ..." (That word again.)
"Yessss. I'm sorry. I'm sorry. Please let me go. I promise I'll never do it again."
His replies were translated to the assembled council.
"Your guilt is known, the council now decides your punishment" announced the chief.
There was much discussion. Two of the elders came over to inspect the boy. One of hem even poked a finger up Robin's tight bum-hole.
"Please" the lad pleaded.
The old man just gave a toothless grin before returning to the council to report his findings. At last after much discussion, judgement was reached. Robin was released from the whipping-post and forced to kneel before the chief. All he could see was the man's huge penis; it was as large as an elephant's, a huge ebony dong with a purple knob; never had Robin seen a cock like it, it was terrifying in its massiveness. A hand grabbed Robin by the hair and pulled his head back until he was forced to look into the cruel eyes of his captor.
"The council has decided. You will be known from now as Ogfu, which in our language means cock-sucker. And you will prove your name, here and now. When your mouth is full of Ashanti juices, you will then be taken by Jomo to the boys's hut. And when they have finished with you, you will be sold to the Arab slave-traders. White boys fetch a high price in the slave-markets of the Timbuktu."
"Noo. Please. Nooo!" the lad pleaded. "I'll pay anything, do anything, but please do not sell me."
"But you are worth so much, with your tight little virgin bum- hole" responded the chief as he rubbed his burgeoning dong. "An Arab prince will pay much gold for an English boy."
Hands pressed Robin back down until his mouth was pressed against the huge rod of pleasure the chief had taken from his lion-cloth. Try as he could, he could not take it in his mouth, it was just too big. The chief merely laughed and ordered him to keep his mouth wide-open, under threat of a cock-whipping. And in no time at all he unloaded his balls, sending streams of salty spunk into Robin's mouth, and all over his face.
Fifteen cocks, some old some young, some big some small, emptied their contents down the lad's throat until Robin was nearly drowning in spunk. Truly that day he did earn his title of Ogfu. Even worse than the rancid cocks and dripping mouthfuls of spunk, was the utter shame of it. Robin wished he were dead. But that was as nothing to what was to come.
Still naked and manacled Robin was led on his hands and knees like a dog across the compound. A young girl passed them, saw the naked boy, and burst out into hysterical laughter. It is a slow business crawling on hands and knees when you are manacled. By the time they reached the boys' hut, there were three more girls and an old woman who followed the strange procession of fine-limbed black-boy and striped-arse white boy.
At the hut entrance, Jomo gave a command and the girls fled. Jomo pushed up the flap and led in his prize. The boys, all naked as was the custom in their hut, flocked round, with much laughter and many questions. Jomo explained so fast that Robin gathered only a few phrases like "anything you want, but not up the arse", "to be sold" "to the Arabs", "sucked everyone", "like his uncle" (much giggling), "end up like his aunt" (roars of laughter).
The youngest boy was ordered into the centre of the ring. A command, and the lad turned, bent forward slightly and pulled open his arse- cheeks to expose his hole. Jomo explained that when a boy did that Ogfu was to lick the boy's arse-hole. The boy turned and shook his prickette. When a boy does that he must accompany him to the piss-place. Finally the lad began to wank himself. "And when a boy does that" went on Jomo, "you open your mouth, as you did to the council."
There followed an hysterical hour. Seven boys face-fucked him straight away, and two repeated the exercise later. But it was having a white- boy to lick their arse-holes that was the true prize. All insisted that they be licked. Robin licked all eleven shit-encrusted arse-holes. Jomo supervised, sending him back to do two deemed insufficiently laved. By the end, Robin's tongue was brown with dried-shit. And then they all took him to the piss-place where they pissed all over him. The aim was to get their piss in his open mouth. Three succeeded totally, all made got in good shots.
On the second day Ogfu was whipped by the boys in the centre of the compound, watched by the whole tribe. Each of the twelve boys administered ten strokes with the whip. It took all day to get through the 120 strokes of the whip and between the sessions, young girls and old women would come up and play with his willie or just stand around and make lewd remarks about the naked white-boy. That night they left him alone to recover.
The following morning Jomo woke him by the simple expedient of ramming his sweaty cock in the lad's mouth.
"Do you want another whipping? No. Then suck me you arse-licking Ogfu!"
Robin's day began with a mouthful of spunk. Then they took him to a cabbage patch and made him weed the plot.
By the end of that week Ogfu barely remembered that his real name was Robin. The boys took to having their arse-holes licked clean in front of the girls. That was the worst part of it, being watched by giggling girls. Yet he almost came to love those tight purpled rings which he licked clean. He dreamt of arse-holes. And also of cocks. The taste and feel of boy-cock in his mouth was constant. One kid alone face- fucked him five times in one afternoon. Yet there was still the faint hope his uncle would come and rescue him. And then he would have his revenge.
On the following Thursday Jomo came in the heat of the afternoon and released Ogfu from his manacles, for the first time. The lad took a light metal ring and clamped it round Ogfu's cock and balls. It was very tight. From the ring was a long light chain, the lead chain as Ogfu quickly discovered. But first a heavy wooden yoke was thrust across his back and his arms were bent over it and secured. Suddenly the manacles seemed desirable!
"What is your name?" demanded Jomo yanking on the chain.
"Ogfu, o master."
"And what does it mean?"
"Cock-sucker."
"But you are an arse-licker too. And the word for that is Ntanga. So from now on you will be known as Ogfu Ntanga. Don't forget it!"
As he led Ogfu by the chain across the compound he questioned him about his hopes for escape. Robin was too cowered not to admit to his hopes of rescue. Jomo laughed.
"Who knows. Perhaps your uncle will come and save you. Perhaps not."
Robin shuddered. What did this boy who had betrayed him to his tribe know?
At the entrance to the maidens' hut, Jomo knocked and waited. It was more than his life was worth to enter there. The door-keeper, an old crone took the proffered chain.
"Go with her and see what happens to white-trash who touch our women."
Inside the shadowy hut the tribe's virgins lived until marriage. A strange half-life of girlish mystery. No man could enter on pain of death or worse. Those captives given to the girls emerged, if they ever did, changed for life.
A tall naked girl glided across and took him by the chain.
"Come little white-boy and see what happens to those who attempt to take our virginity."
She drew back a leather curtain to reveal his uncle Peter, stark- naked, chained to a post. Mind you it took Robin a minute or more to realise who it was. They had shaved him all over. There was not a hair left on his body. His wonderful handle-bar moustache had gone for ever. Each nipple was pierced with a small ring joined by a light chain. Another ring had been put through his fore-skin, and a chain from that was attached to the chain between his tits so that every time he moved cock and tits swung together in painful synchrony.
"Robin" exclaimed the man. "What ...?" The question died on his lips.
"That is not his name" said the grim-faced maiden. "Is it boy?"
"No Miss" said Robin very quietly.
"Tell the great District Officer what your name is now." Robin told him. The man blinked back a tear; he knew what those words meant.
The man was released from the post and made to run round the hut much to the amusement of the assembled girls. For with every stride his cock pulled his tits sending shivers of pain through his whole body. By the time he returned to where he'd started, his body glistened with sweat.
"Does your dong hurt" mocked the maiden. "What a shame. Here, let me release you." She took the ring from his fore-skin and the man sobbed his thanks. She began to rub him up as she went on. "What happens if this goes hard, cunt-licker?"
"I get fucked" sobbed the man.
"Yes. Up your love-hole."
The man controlled himself, his worm-like prick remained mercifully small.
"I wonder what would happen if your nephew sucked you?" the maiden mused.
"Please. No. Anything but that. Please."
For answer she pulled on Robin's chain
"Earn your name, little Ogfu. Make him hard for us. Then we can fuck him again. Fail and we whip you."
There was no escape. Ogfu fell to his knees before his sobbing uncle and began to suck on his penis. He had learnt much about fellatio in the previous seven days. And soon he felt his uncle begin to rise. Soon his mouth was filled with man-cock. Robin knelt back, the cock slid out of his mouth and into general view.
The maiden smiled. She took the errant prick in her hand, then slapped it hard. The man screamed.
"Now we fuck you" she hissed.
They dragged the man into the centre of the hut and tied him face-down over a wooden frame. Then the chief maiden strapped on a huge ebony dildo. She played with it lovingly, letting its tip brush against the unprotected hole. And then she thrust herself deep inside him with one mind-searing thrust and fucked the man up his arse-hole whilst his nephew watched. Only when the man began to pant and beg for more did she stop.
She forced Robin to crawl under the block and suck his uncle until he came. And then she returned to her task. When Robin left the hut he heard his uncle screaming for mercy as girl after girl fucked him up his ravaged hole.
They sold Robin the following day to a passing Arab trader. He stood naked and passive whilst the man fingered and poked him, bent him over and fingered his virgin hole, and otherwise tested the "goods". A deal was struck, and the boy was sold. But before he was handed over, the chief took him back to his hut. It was to be the final humiliation.
Beyond in a curtained alcove some one was being fucked. The climax came to screams of high-pitched pleasure. Moments later Jomo emerged.
"How is the bitch?"
"Begging for more black-cock, oh chief. She can't get enough of it."
"And now she is to have some more."
He pushed the curtain aside and ushered Robin through. His aunt lay stark-naked on a pile of skins, her legs wide apart, a dribble of Jomo's spunk dribbling down her inner thigh, a hand playing with her clit. Her eyes were closed and on her face was a look of sheer delight. It changed to confusion as she saw her naked nephew standing there.
The chief pushed the lad forward. "Regard boy your prim aunt now. See how the proud whites now serve their Ashanti masters." He turned to her. "Tell the boy what you are."
She looked up first to the boy and then to the gross black who even now was playing with his enormous dong.
"I am, oh chief, whore to the Ashanti."
"And now you get the ultimate pleasure!" he leered and fell on her covering her nakedness with his bulk. He fucked her, up her cunt, up her arse, until he had her writhing with desire. She was like an animal on heat - no shame, just naked lust. And as she writhed to her third orgasm of the day, she screamed her lust to the skies. And she then watched with moans of pleasure as the big black forced Robin to lick him clean. That sound was to stay with Robin on the long march across the desert, and beyond.