groaned in helpless submission before him as he emptied himself with spurt after spurt of his driving lust juices deep up inside of her, filling her womb and belly to the bursting point.
'Oh, God, no, no, nooooooo!' she screamed as she felt it ricocheting around in a warm wet pool in her cunt, a hot fiery reminder of her total subjugation to the cruel inhuman tormentor fucking into her from behind.
There was nothing after that. The end had come so suddenly and so completely that Balloo pitched forward in total exhaustion along the length of her flattened body and lay, breathing fast, unable to move. Julie herself lay sobbing out her humiliation and fear beneath him, the sudden horrible thought coming to her that it wasn't all over. There were the others. Oh, God, there were the others!
'Come, Balloo, thees is my turn now.'
'Oh, stop, we are here at the meeting house,' Kubby announced from the driver's seat. 'We all fuck now.'
'Yes,' Balloo added, rising from over the prostrate daughter of their enemy and glowering at the cringing Enhar in the front seat. 'Son-of-a-bitch, Enhar. You do not do with the fingers what it is for a man to do!'
'How do you know?' Enhar retorted. Julie understood that he was questioning how Balloo could possibly know that the girl had been a virgin and that he, therefore, had taken her virginity with his fingers. Julie could see no importance to the question any more.
As he lifted himself, the girl could feel Balloo's deflated prick slipping wetly from her forever expanded hole. As the cool night rushed with a soothing swirl into her void, she listened with bated breath to the sliding halt of the car.
'I know,' Balloo said flatly. 'Now we meet and the girl is for later,' he further said. There were groans from all the men at this statement, but none of them objected. Balloo seemed to be in charge of whatever was going on this night.
Julie heard the door opening on the right side of her, the side she had been forced through a seeming eternity before, and now there were pulling her roughly through it and out of the car. She tried to stand on her own two feet when she felt the ground beneath them, but they would not hold, and she was forced to lean against Balloo's shoulder for support. The hem of her nightgown fell loosely from her neck and on down to her waist as she struggled weakly to pull it the rest of the way down to cover her naked hips.
She was barefooted, and the cold touch of the dust beneath her feet brought some semblance of consciousness back to her dazed mind. Her hand tightened around Balloo's arm, and in spite of the brutal assault he had just subjected her to, she found herself clinging to him blindly, half for support and half from the fear of the others touching her. She followed him meekly across the short distance from the car to the hut of rushes huddled for protection against the trees that lined the small field where they had stopped. In spite of her still smoldering dread of his touch, he seemed to be the only barrier that stood between her and total rape by all the others. How long would he hold them off, and how much power to do so did he have? She tightened her grip and followed him passively, half stumbling, half walking, to the low opening that was the doorway into the hut. She had never been inside a native hut before, and she trembled at the thought of the unknown and the frightening fate that she was certain awaited her inside.
CHAPTER TWO
The interior of the little hut was not so little. The outside was quite deceiving, Julie realized, or perhaps it was just that there was so little furniture. In the very center was something that looked like a combination of a stone fireplace and a stone stove with a central stone chimney reaching all the way up to a hole in the center of the hut. A small area of mats against one wall seemed to be a storage area. Everything in the hut was piled there, including dishes and pots, rolled mats and a cross cut from the trunk of some huge tree, perhaps a very old baobab tree. The men found a pair of kerosene lamps and lit them. There were shelves tied to both horizontal and vertical poles that comprised the skeleton of the hut, and the lamps were placed on two of these. Wood already in the stone stove was set ablaze, and the large cross cut of wood was drawn near the stove to serve as a table. Next, several mats were strewn around on the dirt floor, and Julie was pushed down onto one of them against one wall. No one seemed to be afraid that she would run away now, and indeed she knew better. The only place a white girl could run in the African jungle was into trouble, her father had always warned her.
As Julie sat waiting for whatever was going to happen next, she noticed some of the articles on other shelves around the hut. They all seemed to be carvings, apparently in wood. They were beautiful, often delicate and lacy. Someone appeared to be an excellent craftsman, and she couldn't help wonder if it could be one of these very men. Yet not one of them seemed capable of the kind of sensitivity necessary to produce what she saw. Not knowing whether she risked anything or not, Julie finally got to her feet. The temptation to look at them more closely was too great. She glanced at the men. Enhar and Dawak seemed occupied with the preparation of food. Balloo was carrying another bowl of svench to the table. Kubby was probing around among the many articles stored on the mats against a far wall. No one was watching her, and so she made her way stealthily to the nearest carving.
She soon discovered that it was perfectly permissible to walk around and look at the wooden pieces. She found that the lace effect was meant to represent the leaves of trees or maybe it was just bare branches and fruit. The only figures were gigantic animal totems and bird masks with the single exception of one human figure that was dressed the same in three places. Since the natives she knew never wore anything but trousers or loin clothes and the figure wore a drape from the neck to the ground, she guessed that it might be a representation of the local deity although it was possibly King Daranje Kawat. She didn't know. Neither she nor her father nor anyone else except his own people had ever seen the native king. She decided against asking. These people had a strange and uncertain set of taboos. She was afraid of losing her head over the wrong question!
Suddenly she noticed Balloo smiling at her, and she dropped back down to the mat on the floor without even thinking of it, as though her legs collapsed through some understanding of their own. She leaned more heavily against the rush wall where he had left her and was surprised to feel how sturdy it was. Since the black man kept staring at her, she drew her arm around her tits. They hung loose and were partly exposed from a large tear in the upper part of her nightgown, caused by their struggles in the car. The cotton panties that were a part of her nightgown were gone, and she felt naked and vulnerable to his staring.
'You weel be good to the others, too, until tomorrow, hey you?' Balloo finally spoke to her.
She remained silent. She could not answer.
'I ask good question. You give good answer,' he suddenly spat at her and walked to her side.
Still Julie did not move or make a sound. Her heart was lodged tightly in her throat in fear. Suddenly she heard before she felt, the loud sound of a hard slap echoing through the grass-walled room as the native man who had just so brutally raped her, swung his arm in a wide arc and brought the palm of his hand down hard across her face.
'I can hit badder,' he warned ominously. 'I give good question.'
'W… what do you want from me?' she managed to stammer finally as the sting on her face brought a thin stream of tears to her eyes.
'You weel be good to the others, too,' he said. He was no longer asking a question. He was demanding.
'Y… yes,' she finally said quietly. She could see the cold cruel glint in his dark eyes and knew that any sign of resistance right now would only bring further pain and indignities from him. He was obviously the leader of this band and could not under any circumstances run the risk of being stood up against in front of them, at least not successfully. He would strike back just as he had warned… badder! The natives worshipped strength among other things. She sensed that if he lost his prestige in this matter with them, he would lose all. Who could tell what such repercussions would take place. She knew little about the native habits and rituals. Therefore, she was afraid. Perhaps his behavior was only the law of the wild, of the jungle, the male lion fighting for leadership of the pride as well as the women that went with it, or should she say lionesses. She didn't feel very much like a lioness.
Upon hearing her agreement, Balloo smiled arrogantly down at her and tweaked her cheek with his thumb and forefinger.
'She ees a woman to grind,' Enhar suggested.
'Good,' Balloo commented, and Julie was frightened. She didn't know what 'grind' meant, but they had just been talking about her taking care of the men, and her imagination was limited by the desperate images Balloo
