Hospitality

HOSPITALITY

By Shabbadew2002

Contact me @ shabbadew@ca.rr.com

Police corruption in post-colonial Kenya is a fact of life.  Transparency International, a watchdog organization, ranks Kenya as the 11th most corrupt nation in the world. The average city dweller in Kenya pays 16 bribes per month.  In 2007 an Indian family was enslaved by a corrupt and depraved Police Inspector. 

PART 2 - Amala & Gopal

In Kenya in 2007, Gopal Rangan and his family lived the good life in Nairobi.  He owned a dairy farm on Rhino Park Road and while they lived well, Kenya was adrift in a sea of political corruption and tribal rivalries.   But with 99% of the country black, since independence, and colonialism dead for over 40 years, blacks now dominated.  There was a history of prejudice that had always existed between black Kenyans and the Sikhs and Indians.  Blacks felt that the they had been less willing to accept the changes in Kenya since independence.  Indians had to be careful since so many of them had done well in business, and this made them unpopular.  Gopal, in private, was not above using racial slurs like, kaffir, in referring to blacks. 

But he had been born and raised in Kenya.  And, as a businessman, he knew he had to go along to get along.  So, paying bribes was part of the culture; and Gopal paid his share.  Chief Inspectors, constables and government officials at every level had to get their “cut”.  It was just part of the price of doing business.  And Gopal was not above breaking the law when it was in his best interest to do so.  If it affected his bottom line, Gopal was willing to do whatever was necessary to get by.  Most of the time this worked to his advantage.  Sometimes, he had to do something which really cut corners.  And then he was exposing himself in a way that worried him.  But most of the time, it worked.  Once, it didn’t.  The details are unimportant, but suffice to say....Gopal Rangan got himself in hot water.  And, in doing so, he had fallen afoul of Chief Inspector Munyambu Adoyo.  

Munyambu had Senior Sergeant Kamau and Sergeant Zuberi pay a call on him.  After this, he had him brought into his office.  Gopal was very anxious when the desk constable brought him in to the Chief Inspector’s office.   Kamau was there too.  Gopal shook both men’s hands and sat down in the seat that the Chief Inspector offered.  His hands were wet, both men noted...

“Ah, Chief Inspector Sir, I am here at your request.  How can I be of service, sir. What more can I tell you.  We, are, of course, not guilty of any crime....”

“Yes, of course,” Munyambu stopped him.  “I have some pictures I want you to see.  Then tell me if you know what’s in the photos.”

“Photos?”

“Just watch this.”

With that, Munyambu spun his monitor around and clicked on a file.  They had Gopal and employees breaking the law.  Several laws.  As Gopal sat there sweating in his shirtsleeves, the poor Indian husband, who was a substantial member of the community with the ownership of a dairy, was now in the hot seat.  He took out a clean cotton handkerchief and mopped his brow.

“Oh....I am not feeling well....I am not feeling well,” he croaked. “Oh....this is a most shocking thing, sir.  A most shocking thing. I did not know.....”

“Let’s not play around, Rangan.  You knew....You know....and I know!”

Gopal mopped his brow and didn’t say anything.

“Do you know what I am going to do with these photos, Gopal?”

Gopal gulped and wiped his face.  He squirmed in his chair. He was like a fish hooked and brought up to the boat.

“No....Sir....what are you going to do, may I ask?”

“I’m going to file them.”

“Oh, I would be most grateful, Sir....Most grateful.  Yes, Sir..most grateful.”

“Of course, if I did that, there is a price.”

“Oh, yes, Sir...a price....there is always a price.  Yes, Sir,” Gopal croaked. 

He was sweating and squirming in his chair.  The evidence they had on him could send him to prison for 4 to 6 years.  The legal costs would be staggering.  ‘PRISON.... that I could never do,’ he thought to himself.  Gopal now realized that the Chief Inspector had a tremendous hold on him.  He wiped his face and waited for the inevitable request.  He worried that it would be very expensive.   But he was shocked at what Munyambu said.

“What would it cost,” he said sweating even more now.

“Ten million shillings.”

“Oh my,” was all Gopal said.  It was a staggering amount.

“Consider what the alternatives are,” Munyambu said evenly.

“It is an amount that is more than I can pay, Sir.  More than I can afford.”

They went back and forth over the amount and what Gopal could and could not afford.

“Well, I am a reasonable man.  Perhaps you have something else of value,” said the Chief Inspector.

“I don’t know what else I.....”

“I would accept your wife in payment,” said Munyambu.

“My wife, Sir....what ....what do you mean,” Gopal asked?

“You have an attractive wife.....She is 36 years old, is she not?”

“Y...yes..”

“Well, I would accept the use of your wife.”

“W...What?  What are you saying, Sir.  That is a most .....most ridiculous ....a most despicable request, Sir.  If I may say so, Sir.”

“Well, you are not in a position to bargain, Rangan.  Think about it.  I will give you two days.  Then call me.”

“Well, Sir....begging your indulgence, Sir....I am able to pay five million shillings. That is a very great amount Sir.  Of course, I am to be assured that this is sufficient to take care of the problem.  Is this the case, Sir?”

Munyambu stroked his chin thoughtfully. “That’s a start,” he said smiling like a cobra.

“I assure you Sir, this is all the money I have.”

“O course it is.....”  Kamau smiled and caught Munyambu’s eye.  The Chief Inspector was getting ready to close the trap.

“This is your wife,” he said pushing his cell phone towards Gopal.  It was a photo taken of Amala as she was shopping.  Taken only a short time before.

“Y...yes,” said Gopal.  “That is my wife, Sir.”

“The five million shillings I would accept as partial payment.  Your lovely wife can work off the balance.”

“Work...Sir.....what do you mean, Sir,” said Gopal sweating now.

“I mean she’ll work for me. I need to provide “hospitality” for certain people....you know.”

“What would my wife have to do?”

“Anything I told her to,” Munyambu grinned.  Kamau began chuckling and Gopal’s heart sank down to his shoes.

“Oh...my.....oh my....I....I...”

“Don’t worry.  She’ll learn to do an honest day’s labor.  I may even put her to act in some movies a friend of mine produces.”

Gopal was sick.  He knew that he was selling out his wife if he agreed.

He gulped and said, “Sir, I just need a day or so to get the money together....and I must talk to my wife.”

“You have two days.  I will call you and tell you where to have the money in a plain envelope. Then you’ll meet my man and give him the envelope.  Understand?”

“Yes...Sir.  What about my wife?”

“Oh, we’ll make arrangements. I’ll let you know.”

Then Munyambu softened and said, “rest assured Rangan that when you pay your bill, all your troubles will be over.”

“Uh.....oh....yes, Sir....”

With that, Gopal left the office feeling very upset.  The situation was pure blackmail. And the bribe was huge.  It would strip all the cash from his business.  He could lose everything he’d worked for.....He was in a stupor.  He drove listlessly about for an hour in his auto and then went back to the office.  He needed to get his mind off this terrible problem.  When he went home that night, he didn’t know what to say to his wife.  He went into his son, Pallav’s room.  The boy was on his computer, as usual.   They talked for awhile, then Gopal went out in the garden to think. ‘How am I going to tell Amala,’ he kept thinking.

Gopal wife’s could see he was upset, but he didn’t burden her with his problem.  Instead, he thought about it....Actually dithered about it was a better description.  He kept going over what options he had.  He told his wife where he had been and gave her just the briefest description of what he had done.  She was surprised.  She urged him to call his attorney.  Gopal told her, ‘later.’ And then he crawled into bed.  He wanted to pull the covers over his head and just disappear.  When he awoke, he knew he was still in very deep water. 

That next day, he did call his attorney, his accountant and his banker.  He wanted to know what his attorney could tell him about the charges he was facing.  He also wanted to know how much cash he could put his hands on.  His attorney, an Arab, told him that the charges were very serious if they were true.

“Are they true,” he asked Gopal?

Gopal gulped and didn’t answer.  He now knew that his only hope was to come up with enough cash to placate the Chief Inspector.  He hoped he could buy his way out of trouble.  He didn’t want to involve his wife.  Not under the terms and

conditions that Munyambu had indicated.  He put it off and then ignored the Chief Inspector’s demand to call him with his decision in two days.  Munyambu figured that he needed some additional persuasion, so he sent Senior Sergeant and Sergeant Zuberi to pick Gopal up.  They collared him as he was parking his car at the dairy and took him to the Langata station.  There, they began “processing”.  Gopal demanded to be allowed a call to his attorney.  As they were “processing” him, he became “resistive”.  Kamau, Zuberi, Gachie and Gatura took him down to the shower room. 

There, he was told to take off his clothes.  When he refused, Kamau, quick as a cobra, cocked his right arm and punched Gopal right in the pit of his stomach.  He never saw it coming and was helpless to avoid the blow that landed heavily.  He groaned as the wind went out of him...he sagged and bent over in pain.  He was holding his belly, but quick as a snake, Kamau punched him again… lower down.  The sound of his fist hitting his belly produced an audible – “THUD”. 

Gopal grabbed himself there and began to sag to the floor, but Gatura grabbed him by his arm and pulled him up.  Stood up, Kamau punched him again…and then a fourth time.  Gopal groaned and sagged, and grabbed his stomach wherever he was hit.  When he looked like he was going to fall, Gatura kept pulling him up so Kamau could punch him again. 

They made a cruel game of it; punching him in the belly wherever he left himself open.  Kamau punched him just below the solar plexus, and when Gopal put his hands there to protect himself, he exposed another part of his stomach.  That’s where Kamau punched him next.  The fatty layers there did little to help Gopal withstand the almost genital torment that erupted when the punches landed.

The sick sound of his fists hitting the belly echoed throughout the small room.  Gopal groaned and cried out as Kamau beat him methodically.  The pain exploded throughout his entire stomach.  When Gatura finally let his arm go, he collapsed and sagged in slow motion to the floor clutching his stomach.  Groaning, he rolled around like a beaten dog.  They pulled him to his feet.  He came up clutching his stomach.  The pain was a dull ache…and not wanting any more… he bowed his head in submission.

They took his glasses from him; then he took off his clothes.  They dragged him naked to the shower.  They tied his hands overhead to a pipe and gave him the “North Pole” treatment.  Gachie turned a hose on him and sadistically drenched him with cold water.  He concentrated on his chest, belly, groin (especially his

testicles) and ass.  When he turned off the water, Gopal was gasping.  The force of the water had knocked the wind out of him. The shock of the cold water had been torture.  His penis and testicles had shriveled up from fear and the cold water; they were the size of a cocktail sausage and two hazelnuts.  Gachie pointed at his diminished manhood and mocked him.   Following this, they left him hanging there for 30 minutes.  When they cut him down, the pain in his shoulder and back muscles had crippled him and left him in agony.  He sobbed like a baby when they cut him down.  He was beaten. 

Gatura and Gachie, with Kamau supervising, dragged him to a holding cell and threw him in.  There was a bucket for waste, a bare concrete bunk and nothing else.  The bars of the cell did not separate him from the others.  There were a half dozen hard case prisoners in the adjacent cells.  All younger and black.  They soon began to taunt, bait and threaten Gopal who, cowering on the bunk, shrank back against the wall in fear. 

Amala at the Station

Munyambu called his house and got his wife on the phone.  He told her that her husband had been arrested for high crimes and misdemeanors.  Getting panicky and frightened, she asked where he was.  Munyambu told her the Langata station.  She scribbled a note to her son that she had to go and get his father, and jumped in her car.  She drove fast to the station.   It took awhile.  When she got there she asked the constable on duty at the front desk about her husband.  He asked her name, then he told her to wait right there.

That’s when Munyambu and Kamau came out and introduced themselves. When she asked about her husband, the Chief Inspector told her, “all in good time.”  Then they took her to Room 17.  This was where they conducted “interrogations” and such.  Gachie, Gatura, Gacheru, and Simba....four more constables joined them.  Amala was now in a panic and demanded to see her husband. Munyambu told her that he was being “processed”.  He explained the charges and showed her the pictures of Gopal and his employees breaking the law. 

He told her that her husband had made a “deal”.  And broke it. He explained that she was part of the deal. When she asked how she was involved, he told her in the simplest, graphic terms what she had to do.  Amala was incredulous and demanded to see Gopal.  That’s when Munyambu got mean.  He told her to take her clothes off.  Shocked and indignant, she tried to leave.

“You are crazy,” she said, as she tried to brush past Kamau.

“You don’t get the point, do you,” Munyambu said to her with menace dripping from his words. “See this pen,”  he said pulling a ballpoint from his pocket.  “This is the point.  I’ll show you.  Then you’ll get the point.”

He motioned to the others. Gachie and Gatura grabbed her by her arms.  Munyambu supervised and they got her leaning back against the desk. Kamau lifted up her lehenga (long skirt).  Amala, feeling herself being exposed, began to struggle wildly, forcing Gachie and Gatura to exert their utmost to hold onto her.  The two men holding her then grabbed her thighs behind her knees to pull her legs open.  Amala began screeching like a wildcat.

“Hold her legs open,” Munyambu leered.

“OH GOD, OH MY GOD,” Amala cried over and over again as Kamau pulled her panties down exposing the hairy purse of her pussy.

They had wrestled her around to the corner of the desk. Kamau pulled her panties off.  Amala looked down to see herself horribly exposed.  Kamau used his finger and began to touch her THERE.   Amala groaned and whimpered as he explored her.  Munyambu went to the cabinet and took out a bottle of alcohol, cotton balls and lubricant.  He began wiping the pen down with an alcohol soaked ball.  Then he lubricated the pen along half its length. 

“Ah...that’s what I want,” he said satisfied.  “Hold her open,” he said.

As he advanced on her with the pen, Amala began to cry out, cursing him and yowling like an angry cat.

“Hold her open,” Munyambu repeated.  Kamau helped by spreading Amala’s fleshy labia to reveal the velvety pink inside.

“Oh, GOD....what are you going to do,” she kept saying.

“Make sure you get the point,” Munyambu said with a sadistic glint in his eye.

As Gachie and Gatura held her helpless and open and Kamau spread her pussy for him, Munyambu carefully searched out the tiny opening to her bladder.  When he found the mouth of her urethra, he put the ballpoint’s tip right there and pushed. He got it in a bit and then began working it in deeper.  The effect on Amala was instant and electric.  She stiffened, especially her legs, and began shrieking as she

felt this most unpleasant invasion.  One’s urethra is, in some ways, the most private hole of all.  Delicate and lined with nerves, it is very short in a woman:  about 5 centimeters in length before the sphincter to the bladder is reached.  Munyambu worked the relatively thick pen into Amala’s sensitive piss tube and Amala experienced a most terrible stretching violation.  She began crying and squirming violently, but Gachie and Gatura held her fast.

“OH GOD....TAKE IT OUT....OH GOD...PLEASE.....TAKE IT OUT....”

Munyambu worked it in until he reached resistance. Then he began twisting and turning it this way and that.  Each move brought fresh agony to Amala and she was in hell.  He redrew it only to reinsert it again, only this time a little deeper.  She was yowling and caterwauling like a strangled cat as he tortured her.  He had forced open the sphincter and urine dribbled out... wetting her.  When he finally took the pen out and motioned to the others to let her go, her skirt went down her thighs as Amala slid to the floor to land on her knees.  She put a hand between her legs....touching and cupping herself.  She still felt the pain of the horrid invasion.  She moaned and began weeping. 

“Now do you get the point,” Munyambu asked her?

She moaned and wept softly, now pressing her skirt up against her bare pussy with both hands as she tried to comfort herself. 

“Oh.....God....it hurts....it hurts......OH....”

“Maybe, now when I tell you to do something, I won’t have to resort to such harsh measures,” Munyambu grinned, looking at his men.  Gachie and Gatura, licked their lips.  They were anticipating what came next....

“NOW, take off all your clothes, slut!”

Amala just knelt there. She was in shock....

“No? OK.  Gatura, Gachie.....take her clothes off.”

These two came over.... grabbed and stripped her.  They hauled her to her feet and got her on the desk on her back.  They pulled her arms over her head by her wrists and Gachie crossed and held them.  As they pulled and pushed her into position, Amala sniveled and whined.  Gacheru and Simba grabbed her by the ankles and

pulled her legs open and back towards her tits.  Her labia were being spread further apart as her legs were pulled open and back. 

When they were done, Amala was open and helpless, held fixed with her knees pulled back so far that her hips were tilted up and her genitalia and the brown mouth of her anus were pitilessly displayed.  The position was very shaming and obscene.  It was only then that Munyambu swaggered over and grabbed a handful of her thick, black hair.  He yanked her head around like she was a disobedient child and directed her gaze so that she was staring down at her crotch.

“You think you’re something special.  I’m gonna show you what you are.... Indian pig,” he spat at her maliciously.

Then he traced along the puffy lips of her cunt, listening to her shuddering breaths as he teased the tender flesh.  He pulled on her labia and then used his fingertip to tickle and tease her large, protuberant clitoris.  As he touched the shiny, sensitive bud she squirmed at each touch.  He played with it until she writhed like a snake, even though she was tightly held.  She hated it when he stroked the puckered mouth of her anus and struggled.  He grinned as he watched the tight, dark opening, flexing and pouting in the dark grove of her ass crack.

He soon went from petting and stroking to mauling and molesting.  As he got rougher with her, Amala’s vocalizations went from whimpering to moaning that sounded sexual.   Soon, Munyambu began to work his fingers into her vagina.  He got his index finger inside and wormed it around exploring the dimensions of her sex hole.  He worked a second finger in her and turned his palm up.....rooting around for a spot inside her.  When he found it, he began frigging that spot harder and harder.  Amala soon began to scream and her urethra exploded as she began spurting gouts of clear fluid all over Munyambu’s wrist to land on the edge of the desk and drip onto the floor.

It was like a shower.  When it was done and Amala was panting and twitching like a fish caught on a hook, Munyambu took his wet fingers out and held them up to show everyone.  Kamau began clapping.   It set up a buzz around the room.  But not missing a beat, Munyambu worked the same fingers back into her vagina again and within 30 seconds had her spurting and squealing again.

And this time, after squirting clear juice for awhile, she became incontinent and urinated.  The pressure he put on the urethral “sponge” on front wall of her vagina did the trick and Amala began peeing.  She pissed until her bladder was empty.

This time when Munyambu took his hand from her pussy, he rubbed her genitals and then wiped up some of the mess.  Then he brought his hand up to rub it all over her face.  He even thrust his wet fingers into her mouth to simulate oral rape. 

“Say, I’m a dirty Indian slut,” he commanded her.

“SAY WHAT YOU ARE,” He spat at her.   “Say it....SAY IT....say ‘I’m a fat Indian Slut’,” he commanded her.

When he threatened to shove the pen back up her piss tube, she caved in and began to call herself ... ‘a fat, Indian slut’.  Amala had been given a full demonstration of what Munyambu thought about Indian women. The true fact was that he loved to degrade and humiliate them.  About this time, another black man came in the room.  This was Sergeant Zuberi.  He was a little taller than Kamau but not as heavily built and younger.  He grinned when he saw what was going on.

“I arrived at the right time,” he said, grinning to the others.... and grabbing his crotch for emphasis.

Kamau had stepped up and unzipped his trousers.  Joking with the others, he pulled out a fairly large dick and his full ball sack.  His cock was uncircumcised and the mushroom head was almost purple.  He stepped up in between Amala’s splayed thighs and barked a command in Swahili to hold her still.  He rubbed the head of his dick over her wet labia and her clitoris…watching her face for her reaction.  Amala felt sick....she had been made to feel like a whore.  She could smell her wet pussy in the small room. He worked it in slowly….stretching her vagina open a little at a time…

“Tell me slut….tell me you want my black dick…. in your pussy….tell me…tell me slut….”

“Oh…..god…..oh…oh…….oh god….….oh… god…NO..please….”

“Tell me you want it.”

“Oh….GOD……oh….oh…..NO!”

Kamau thrust his hips forward as Amala groaned.

“That’s it….feel my big, black dick in your pussy….slut.”

Amala began moaning and groaning like a stuck calf as she was penetrated.  Kamau worked his big dick into her slowly…enjoying the feeling of her warm, wet hole.   He got a few centimeters in… pulled it out… and then worked it back in even deeper….He did this slowly and teasingly several times. When he had most of his big dick inside her, he began to fuck her.  After thrusting in and out for a bit,  he pulled out leaving only the head in her vagina.  Amala whimpered.  At one point, Amala said, “Oh God, stop you...you... dirty kaffir,” using a racial slur.

Kamau licked his lips and said slowly, “you call me a kaffir...huh?  So......you think you’re too good for me....huh?  Is that it?  Want it back in…slut?”

“NO!”

So, Kamau rammed it back in ....deeper until Amala writhing in the grip of the three men holding he protested, “oh...God, not deep like that. No more…please!” 

He wanted to hurt her now.  She felt totally stretched….it hurt….but she was also starting to feel something else too as the pressure on her vaginal walls fired off the deeper nerves.  He started to fuck her with a steady and powerful rhythm and Amala soon began to boil.  She got noisier as he had his way with her.  She felt the pressure building….. felt herself getting closer to cumming. With his big dick deeply embedded in her pussy…..thrusting deep…deeper… she felt herself getting ready to explode. When he started really heavy thrusting…just pounding her – Amala, to her shock and shame, had an orgasm.

She began a high, wailing cry that went on and on and got louder and louder as she came.   Amala moaned and squealed as the sensations washed through her loins and belly and down her thighs.  Kamau slowed and rubbed his big dick from side to side….stretching her vaginal mouth.  Then, he started pounding her again…..and Amala felt herself being pushed into another orgasm. He slammed it into her over and over…….and Amala came again….harder this time. 

By the time Kamau finally ejaculated….Amala had experienced two deep uterine-vaginal orgasms.  When he finally deposited his load - there was so much that it squirted out around his dick.  When he took it out, Amala felt empty.  He scooped up some of his semen and her fuck juices with two fingers and carrying it to her mouth... made her lick his fingers clean and swallow the “treat”.

All the men dropped their trousers and shorts and stood naked from the waist down lining up to take their turns raping the plump Indian woman.  The men all smelled

a bit and were sweaty.  They had been out in the sun all morning.  Amala looked around and groaned...realizing that they were ALL going to rape her. She felt claustrophobic, like she had been swallowed up by a huge monster.... a giant black centipede with lots of dreadful appendages.   Zuberi went next and he had a fat, up curved hard cock.  He slammed into her hard and made her cum too. Then Simba.  He had a long, slim penis, longer than either man before him and he shoved it in so far that he made her cry out.  And soon, he came filling her pussy with semen.

She was now leaking heavily and Munyambu came over and scooped up the mess drooling from her hole and smeared it over her nose and mouth to humiliate her. Eventually she began to lick her lips and swallow without being told. Gatura and Gachie followed and both men were nicely “hung” and each came quickly. They had been on the boil since they held the Indian woman steady for the rape of her piss tube.  When she was allowed to stand, her legs were shaky and she stumbled and fell into a fetal heap.

She was muscled again on top of the desk.  They put her on her back with her legs held open again.  Kamau, his cock having been revived, took her. Then Zuberi and Gatura had another turn.  Following this, they turned her over. This was the position: she was lying with her forehead resting on the desk top.  Her thighs were kicked open wide.  Then someone turned her head.  Looking up, she saw that the black truncheon in her face belonged to the Chief Inspector.  He was laughing and drinking from a bottle.

“Put me in your nasty mouth,” he roared. “Suck my dick, slut.”

Munyambu got his dick in her mouth and was slapping her to get her to suck it properly.  Gacheru had his dick embedded in her cunt - so there were two men enjoying her “hospitality”, fore and aft.   When the boss came in her mouth, Simba came over to rape her mouth too.  Amala was ordered to suck his cock until he ejaculated.  Her mouth got so full of cum, she gagged.  Quite a bit landed in her open mouth and she was instructed to swallow it of course, but being young his capacity was great and he was so excited that his semen went everywhere.  Poor Amala wound up with a “pearl necklace”, her first. 

She was soon a sloppy mess.  There was semen all around and in her vagina.  Her thighs were splattered and it had run down the crack of her ass.  Her mouth was filled with the taste of a man’s seed and there was some on her chin, cheeks and neck. Poor Amala. A high born Indian woman, she and her husband were prosperous and isolated from the riff-raff.  Or so they thought.  She was used to having poor Kikuyu and Luo women as her servants and had little contact with black Kenyan men. 

She, more than her husband, felt superior to the blacks.  And so, Amala suffered.  When they were done raping her, they paraded her out into the hallway and down to the holding cells where the riff-raff were.  Robbers, thieves, rapists and agitators....all crammed into cells.  And down at the end, huddled up against the wall of his cell was her naked husband.  He was also in shock too after what they’d done to him.

Amala, after being repeatedly raped, was in shock, but her troubles were not over.  Munyambu wanted to humiliate her further.  He had Gachie and Gatura march her up and down in front of the holding cells.  The poor black men jammed into the cells reacted like wild animals.  They yelled, screamed, reached for her through the bars.  Mocked and insulted her....Called her every name in the book.  Took their cocks out of their trousers and wagged them at her, telling her what they wanted to do to her.  For Amala, it was like being raped anew. 

Having a bandage that had been covering a wound ripped off to bleed again.  Their lewd words and feral gestures were like arrows in her flesh.  She was made to put her hands by her sides and walk up and down to show them her naked self.  She was dripping between her legs and the sight of her pussy full of cum, drooling down her thighs set the men into paroxysms of mad lust.

When Kamau and Zuberi, who both stood behind her like overseers, made her bend over to display her swollen, wet crotch, Amala wanted to die from the sheer embarrassment of it all.  The men went into overdrive with an outburst so violent that poor Gopal felt he needed to creep to the bars of his cell to see what it was.  He looked down to his right and all he could see was some black men with a naked figure in their midst. His heart went out to whoever this unfortunate was. 

He remembered what a violation it was to be marched naked past the holding cells. The cruel violent response of the men were a very recent wound.  His immediate neighbors had taunted him all night ....threatening him with rape and worse....As he stared, he realized that it was a woman they constables had in their midst.  ‘A woman,’ he thought to himself.  ‘Oh my God, what would it be like for a woman to be thrown into this hell-hole?’

After thoroughly humiliating her, Kamau and Zuberi marched her down to the end of the block.  As he saw the constables approaching, Gopal shrank back in his cell

until he was sitting in a frightened heap on his bunk.  When they got to his cell, he saw Zuberi using a key to open the door, and when Kamau stepped aside, he saw with astonished eyes, his WIFE!   He couldn’t believe it.  They shoved her into his cell, and this drove his neighbors, two hard case types crazy.  Gopal stood up and as Amala stumbled forward, she seemed like a “zombie”.  She was in shock and didn’t seem to recognize him.  He wrapped his arms around her and pulled her to him.

Kamau and Zuberi laughed, turned on their heels and joined Gachie and Gatura. They barked at the men in the cells on their way out, telling them to, “quiet down...or else.”  Gopal, was stunned that his wife was there.  But her condition told him that she’d suffered worse than he did.  He talked to her trying to get her to acknowledge him.  Finally, she recognized him and, clutching at him, began sobbing. 

“Oh, Gopal....OH GOPAL,” she kept saying. 

Munyambu let them have a tearful, shaming reunion in the holding cell together before he sent Gachie, Gatura and Gacheru down with their clothes.  They found the couple huddled up against the far wall on the concrete bunk trying for all the world to screen out the terrible taunts and threats washing over them from the nearby cells. 

“Get your clothes on you two. You can leave,” Gatura spat at them.

When they dressed, they were taken down to Munyambu who told Gopal that he expected the “balance” of what he owed.  The amount he said he could pay.

“That’s all you owe....Your wife made a down payment today,” he laughed. 

Gopal holding tightly onto his wife who was still crying, said nothing.  The look in her eyes said it all.  He now realized how deep of a hole he was in and how little hope he had that either of them would ever get out....The couple had a good,  traditional marriage and this would sustain them in the future.....so Gopal hoped.

The Sadist

The Chief Inspector got his biggest kick by forcing people he’d “captured” to do disgusting and repellent things.  Like making Kate Braxton have sex with a dog in front of her husband.  He believed that most women were, by nature, born sluts, but a woman with breeding and culture would really suffer when you made her

descend to the level of an animal.  And for that he really loved using dogs.  It was mulling over these sorts of things that allowed him relief from the stress of collecting graft, Commissioners of Police who wanted to be mayor, rivals, and incompetent help. It truth it was sort of a hobby. His hobby...

Now, Amala intrigued him.  Also, there was something about her that told him that she was potentially the most fun to hurt and humiliate.  It was just buried deeper.  The complicated landscape of Amala’s psyche made Munyambu smile with the possibilities of what could be done in this world by a unscrupulous man with an understanding of history and psychology.  And, he hated Sikhs and Indians the most.  So, it would be that much more pleasurable to push her into doing degraded things.   He already knew that he enjoyed humbling her husband.  Munyambu decided that would force him into becoming, in his own words, a zan-talaq (cuckold). 

Amala saw herself as a model Indian woman.  But her experience had created huge cracks in herself image. She had behaved, in her opinion, in a way that was disgraceful and shameful by having an orgasm.  She was a powerfully sexual woman, a compulsive masturbator who nevertheless had a well-crafted public “face” she wanted to maintain.  She would have a very hard time of it in the months to come.

When husband and wife finally talked, after their experience at the police station, it was a true drama.  Amala told him that the Chief Inspector’s men had raped her.  Gopal finally admitted to her how he had gotten both of them into trouble.  She cried and so did he.  She asked him if there was any way out and he said, that all they could do was go along and hope for the best. So, the stage was set for what came next.

Two days later Gopal got the order to be at a certain place with the “envelope”.  He brought the cash and it was Corporal Mosi who met him. And stupidly, Gopal thanked him, after he handed him the money.  He was swabbing his sweaty face with a white handkerchief and was glad to get out of there.   The Chief Inspector and Kamau had a good laugh when Mosi brought the money to them.

“What a silly and sad little man. He probably went back to his office and jerked off, I bet,” said Kamau dismissively.

“Probably,” agreed the Chief Inspector.

In truth, Gopal was so sick at the thought of what might happen next, that he left early for home.  His wife was like an automaton.  She was going through the motions of being a wife and mother, but since the rape, had not been able to have sex with her husband.  She went to her doctor right afterwards, but her wounds went deeper.  So did Gopal’s....Two weeks later, Kamau came over and raped her in her own home in the daytime when her husband and son were away.  First, he called her on her cell phone.  She was shocked that he had her number.  He told her that he was going to come over and she said, ‘NO’, but when he threatened her.... she wilted. 

The Marriage Bed

So, Kamau came over for a little “hospitality”.  Amala hated it, but really had no choice.  It was 10am when he got there and Amala was fresh from her bath with her hair still damp.  She was wearing a lehenga (long skirt) and smelled of perfume.  She had on a burgundy-colored bra to match her choli (midriff hugging blouse).  And in her marriage bed.... Kamau fucked her and made her cum again.   When he was ready to fuck her again, he made her take his black dick in her ass.  He sodomized her.  He took his time and worked it in slowly to please himself.  It hurt her and she began sobbing. 

He wasn’t content until he had his dick buried deep all the way in up to his pubic hair.  He gave her a good ride and was surprised when she began going, “ah” and “oh”. And it got louder and louder until there was no mistake.  Amala had cum from being fucked in the ass.  Afterwards, he made her suck his dirty cock clean.  Then, he made her call herself, “a kali gandee.  (a “black butt-hole” - a Sudra woman who takes cocks in her rectum) Sobbing, she did it and it just devastated her. 

While raping her vaginally was a huge violation.... having to take his cock in her ass was very perverted by her standards.  And since she was among those very few women who can reach orgasm from being sodomized ....this was more shaming for her.   He had made her cum by fucking her hard and deep so that his cock pressed against her cervix and uterus through the thin membrane separating her rectum from her vagina.  Crying out.... she came. 

All of this was a terrible problem for Amala.  Since she was somewhat dark complexioned for an Indian (like Africans, Indians had a color scale) and had cum when she was ass fucked – this combination branded her, in her own eyes, as a kali gandee. Amala was very color conscious.  Her husband was very fair and her son inherited his father’s coloration but Amala was brown-skinned. Kamau knew this and made her call herself a kali gandee.  This was lower, in Indian circles, than a bhagat (whore). 

Kamau continued to come over regularly to fuck Amala during the weekdays, usually at midday.  Soon, he  began to come over on weekends.  First time he came by himself.  Their son, Pallav, was staying with friends.  The next time he came with Sergeant Zuberi and while he and his best friend had fun with Amala in the bedroom, Gopal was made to wait in the living room.  He reminded Gopal that the price he had agreed to pay was the frequent use of his wife.  Gopal felt sick.  But he remembered what they did to him at the station and was thoroughly cowed.   His son came home early that day and hearing the noise from his parent’s bedroom, asked his father what was going on.

“Dad, what’s going on,” he asked? “Can you hear that? What’s going on?”

“Some men....they are policemen....they have some questions for your mother.  Just  routine,” is how Gopal put it. “They are interviewing her.”

Pallav looked at him doubtfully; his father’s lie was as apparent as the humiliation on his face. Gopal had been shamed enormously as the sounds were becoming more raw.   Gopal didn’t know which way to look.  He was humiliated in front of his son.   Then, Pallav excused himself and ducked into own room to listen.  His bedroom was right next to his parent’s room.  He heard the bed squeaking and his mother moaning.  It would get quiet, then he heard his Mama grunting and moaning; and finally she would cry out.

He heard her yelling, “Yes...... I’m a dirty bhagat.”

Later the boy masturbated picturing his mother being forced to act like a slut in her own bedroom....her own marriage bed.  He was even more stunned at his father’s behavior.  Another time, Pallav again came home to find the bedroom door closed and more sounds coming out that said someone was enjoying his Mama’s “hospitality”.  He hid in his own room listening.  Eventually Kamau and young Simba came out with his father trailing behind. 

Gopal was hugely embarrassed.... Pallav could tell, but Kamau was grinning and joking.  His father introduced the two men to his son.  Pallav was left to wonder, ‘did my Dad take part or did he just watch?’  Pallav was blown away imagining his Mama behaving like a slut.  He began to jerk off constantly thinking about it.  It became his favorite  fantasy.  What he didn’t know was his father was forced each

time to offer his wife to the men and thank them afterwards.  Gopal had also come to a very bad place personally.  Against his own best instincts, he discovered that he had gotten aroused by his wife after she had been sexed.  He found himself vibrating with excitement and struggled to contain himself when they were alone.  

With her vagina slick and slimy with the other men’s semen, he would mount her in a frenzy and enjoy  “sloppy seconds” with her after they’d left.  He would last but a few seconds and squirt his cum in her messy pussy.  The slippery feel of her well used vagina, full of another man’s cum, was like Viagra® for him.  She was “dirty” and this got to him.  He had discovered that he was weirdly aroused after his wife had been sexed by other virile males. 

And the taboo of black males made it even spicier.  The sheer depravity of being forced to watch made him get an erection.  But the key was the idea that she was being “dirtied” by other men....this strange obsession found a home and grew roots in Gopal’s mind.  Amala was turned off by this.  It seemed wrong to her that he would get so excited by her sexual humiliation.

One Saturday night the boy was supposed to stay at a friend’s house as his parents went out to dinner.  He ducked out of the sleepover and hid in his own bedroom.  And sure enough when his parents came home, they had company with them and he heard them go directly to their bedroom and after a few minutes he heard familiar sounds coming from their room.  He quietly masturbated listening....

Another time, he and his father were watching a soccer match on television. Kamau had parked out back and come in through the kitchen.  Amala was there and shortly he had cuffed her to a chair.  He pulled up her choli and her bra and gave her little openhanded smacks across her nipples until she was willing to suck his dick right there in the kitchen a few yards from where her husband and son were watching TV.  He alternated the smacks across her nipples with pinching and pulling on them until they were so sore she couldn’t stand it anymore.  She then began sucking his cock.

He had her do the whole oral routine.  This was what he liked:  she had to kiss and lick everything first, then suck it sweetly.... and then, when he was fully erect, he took charge and just raped her mouth.  Face-fucked her royally.  When he was done and she’d swallowed his load, she was a mess.  Her face and tits were wet with her saliva and his semen.  Satisfied,  he uncuffed her and he left.  Her husband came in, saw the condition she was in....surmised what had happened and helped her get herself together before Pallav was the wiser.  

The Brainwashing Video

As part of their “payment” the Chief Inspector decided to have Amala star in one of Lei Peng’s porn videos.  The series had started to sell very well in Eastern markets and one of the most popular was the “North Korean” series.  The scenarios called for Chinese actors to portray North Korean military men who capture, torture and rape Western women.  The biggest seller was the tape that had Kate Braxton  strapped to the table and subjected to a brainwashing machine.   When Amala told Gopal she had been summoned to appear at a certain address, and that the Chief Inspector told her that he was going to put her in a “movie”, she suspected that it was a lewd video. 

He wanted to go with her.  He wanted to be there for whatever they did to her.  He called Munyambu and practically begged him.  The Chief Inspector smiled to himself and then told Gopal he could come.  When they got to the warehouse, Peng, the director,  gave the couple the basic script idea.  Amala did what she was told to and didn’t look at her husband.  This was her first time at the warehouse.   She knew instinctively that she was going to be subjected to very degrading things.  Gopal was directed to sit in a chair. Then he brought over Han Shun, the actor playing the North Korean Colonel and four Chinamen garbed as enlisted men.  When everything was ready, he yelled, “action.” Shun had his men stripped Amala and then bound her to a gynecological table. 

Shun had his assistants set up the electro-stimulation equipment and then he blindfolded Amala.  He began by playing with her pussy to get her wet and ready.  He rubbed the shaft and the bulb of her clitoris until it swelled and erected.  One of the enlisted men handed him the adhesive pad electrodes.  He attached them her brownish-black nipples.  Her saucer-sized areolas were so big that the pads couldn’t cover all of them.  Next, he worked a thick, blunt copper rod into her wet vagina until it was past her G-spot.  Amala groaned as it filled her vagina. 

Then Gopal stared as the man worked a stainless-steel dumbbell with a convex shaft into his wife.  Gopal watched wide-eyed as the fat, middle-aged Chinaman greased the thing and inserted it into his wife’s asshole until the far end of the bell and the shaft were inside her.  Only the near bell was visible.  Gopal squirmed as he watched the man hook his beloved wife up to the transformer.  The black box sat on a shelf.   With all the switches and dials on the front, it looked very scary.   Following this, Shun attached the flat-jawed clip to the shaft of her clitoris still covered by its hood.  Amala was now wired up like a test animal in a laboratory.  Nervous, she began sweating and biting her lip. 

He flipped the “on” button and Amala jerked as the current surged into her clitoris.  As she began writhing and squirming, she groaned and Gopal tried to say something.  Peng, as director, said something to Munyambu who motioned to Mosi who came over and cuffed Gopal to the chair and using Amala’s panties, gagged him.  Now he could only sit there and watch as her pussy began to leak juice, as she began to wiggle her hips and ass in a way that was very erotic.  And, when Shun ratcheted a dial up to “5”, Amala began to feel hot, itchy sensations in her vagina as current surged into the copper rod.

He flipped another switch and current began pulsing.  He turned it up.  Amala felt surges of pure pleasure flood her sex-hole as the thick shaft pressed on her G-spot and urethral sponge and the blunt tip pushed against the epicenter.  Then, when Shun turned the current up higher, the sensations went from pleasurable to wicked and intense.  Amala began to hump the air as if she had a cock inside her and she was eager to fuck.  Juice began dribbling from her urethra.  Then Shun activated the circuit connected to the dumbbell in her asshole. As current flowed, the greased little device went in - and - out - in - and – out methodically.  Amala’s vagina began throbbing in time; and Gopal couldn’t help himself.  He felt a stirring in his pants.  To his shame, he began to get an erection watching the machine fuck his wife.

As Shun started the current to her tits, Amala cried out as the avalanche` of sensations become almost too much.  When he added a “pulsing” element to the current flowing into her nipples, Amala felt as if someone was pulling them from her body and then sadistically twisting them.  They soon ballooned up and began to look like giant blackberries ready to explode.  Shun now combined pulses with saw tooth wave currents, and worked her clitoris, G-spot and epicenter from inside her pussy and asshole. 

Her juices flowed more with each combination.  Munyambu came over and told Gopal that when she began spurting she’d probably pass out.  Shun turned it up sending more hot pulsing into her tits, clit, rectum and vagina.  After a moment, Amala felt herself approaching a monster orgasm.  When she began to cry out louder and louder and then when she began ejaculating, she howled.  It looked like she was pissing. Some of the juice sprayed and wet the floor.  The cameraman, Chang, holding the mobile unit, caught it all on tape.

Juice spurted out of her urethra like it was a fountain.  Then an enlisted man put the headphones on her.  They left her bound to the table and wired up.  Gopal watched his beloved wife cum over and over again until she passed out.  It was like

being bound to a treadmill.  She was being forced into arousal, orgasm, and ejaculation, over and over again.   Combined with being bound so she couldn’t move, along with the sensory deprivation and the audio programming, Amala entered into a twilight zone.  Gopal would see her pussy gripping and squeezing the thing inside her.  The obscene dumbbell kept going in and out like some demented robot.  Her clitoris had swelled and turned purple and periodically she would arch up in her bonds like she was fucking an invisible lover.  It was a hideous parody of marital sex. 

Then when her orgasm hit, her voice went up an octave or two.  And most of the time, when she came, she ejaculated.  Great gouts of clear, sweet pussy juice gushed from her cunt and piss hole and later urine came spurting from her urethra to land on the concrete floor.  After awhile, Gopal was exhausted too.  He had an erection almost the whole time and this was torture to be aroused and not have any outlet or relief.  When they gave her a break and took her off the machine, Shun extracted the dumbbell from her asshole and Amala began groaning.  As Gopal watched goggle-eyed, she began shitting. Amala had an involuntary bowel movement into a stainless steel tray which sat on a shelf just below her spread crotch. 

When they hooked her up to the machine again Amala went deep into her own “inner space” as the machine again took over both her mind and her body.  Gopal could only watch helplessly as she was on sexual “auto pilot”.   The video was to give viewers the impression that the woman was kept on the machine for days.  And when they took her off, they would force feed the programmed victim.  Gopal found the forced-feeding strangely arousing too.  He was reminded of seeing a python fed in a zoo that same way. 

The gag used for the forced feeding Shun had rigged up himself.  It was rubber and looked like the pacifier a baby sucks, but it had actually been a squeaky dog toy.  He had drilled three holes into the thick rubber nipple and fitted it with a tube.  This way the “victim” couldn’t stop the flow with her tongue.  The crew filled an enema bag with a mixture of rice, cooking oil, cooked vegetables and raw eggs that had been run thru a blender.  Decanted into the bag, when Shun released the clamp on the tube, gravity did the rest.

The bulb, when forced into Amala’s mouth and strapped to her head, filled up with the liquid meal.  This began draining and it forced her to swallow which made her clamp down on the bulb and that squeezed more meal out.  This created an irresistible cycle.  She had to swallow and this made her squeeze the bulb which

made her swallow again and again -  whether she wanted to or not.  It was humiliating and unpleasant.   One of the enlisted men massaged her throat as she was forced to swallow.  Then the began the whole, cruel routine all over again.  They put her back on the table and wired her up.  For another thirty minutes she writhed, wiggled, arched up, moaned and groaned as she was driven into one orgasm after another.  Gopal was compelled to watch.  He had a raging erection.  He turned to Mosi, and with head and face gestures, indicated that he wanted to say something.  

“Whaddya want,” Mosi asked him grinning?

“You wanna jerk off,” he asked mocking him?

Gopal felt his face flush.

“Say please,” Mosi taunted him, knowing he couldn’t say anything with the gag in his mouth.

Gopal whined, looking pathetic and feeling very low indeed.  Gopal, with his troll’s face and cruel streak a mile wide, came over and smacked Gopal on the head playfully.  The Indian’s erection was visible in his pants; and he felt his face flush.  It was very humiliating.  It was shaping up to be a severe, crushing  experience.  Gopal had been driven to the edge watching his wife turned into a sex puppet.  Her humping, thrusting, wiggling and cumming had inflamed him to no end.  His balls were aching as he stared at his wife’s pitilessly exposed crotch.  She was twitching from the current, her pussy was drooling like mad and as he gaped, her piss hole seemed to wink.  Gopal groaned as she was getting close to another orgasm.  When his wife began cumming and piss began jetted from her pee hole, Gopal’s penis, now stiff as a board, began to twitch and throb and he was afraid that he would cum in his pants. 

It was very humiliating for Gopal.   He had been reduced to begging to jerk off as his wife was sexually abused in front of him.  For Gopal this was a new low.  They, of course, kept Amala on the machine until Peng, Chang, with his hand-held,  and the stationary camera crew caught the whole scene.  The sound man made sure he caught every moan and cry as Amala was forced into orgasm.  By then,  she was a demented puppet.  Her nipples had turned dark, dark brown, almost black and had swollen hugely.  Her labia and clitoris were dark purple and had ballooned up to comic proportions.  She had squirted and pissed so much that the floor had a huge puddle under the table.  They made Gopal mop it up.  

After the shoot had wrapped but before husband and wife were allowed to leave, Kamau, Zuberi, Gachie, Gatura, Gacheru and Simba.....all of them face-fucked Amala in front of Gopal.  Amala behaved like a proper sex slave to Munyambu’s great joy and sucked them all to completion.  Gopal found, much to his shame, that he had been aroused to new heights by what they did to his wife.

The “Cuckold Bench” Video

Not long after her marathon session on the machine, Munyambu ordered the couple to report for another Saturday afternoon of “movie magic” as he called it, at the warehouse.  Gopal would have to watch his wife take on 14 enlisted men from the Langata barracks. Taped, of course, by Peng and his crew.  These men had tested negative for the HIV virus and had been selected for their virility and aggressiveness.  In this video, both husband and wife would “star”.  It was supposed to take place in Africa. 

As an Indian couple were driving and ended up in a restricted area.  Soldiers captured them and they were “questioned”.  The wife ended up as a plaything for the soldiers and the husband was made to watch.  They taped the outdoor sequences outside the warehouse.  Two enlisted men played the commanders who supervise the capture of the Indian couple.  Gopal and Amala were pulled from their own car, tied and foot and hustled into the “compound”, as cameraman Chang got it all.

Director Peng introduced a new device in this tape.  He called it the “Cuckold Bench”.  It was a double bench like two rectangular coffee tables staggered one above the other.  Peng’s crew put Gopal and Amala on it.  Gopal was made to strip down to his jockey shorts, in front of the soldiers and then he was strapped on the lower bench.  Then Amala had to strip.  When she was naked and flushed with embarrassment, they put her on the top bench but facing the opposite direction.  This put her crotch about 20 centimeters above Gopal’s face.  

Peng then yelled, “action” and the stage manager, a Chinese woman, pushed the first soldier forward to get between her legs so the man’s cock and balls were right over Gopal’s face. 

He could see, right in front of his eyes, the man’s dick poking around and then entering his wife’s vagina.  He was a lean, tough sergeant, with a long, spear.  The man didn’t insert himself right away so his dick kept prodding Amala until it found its own way in.  Gopal saw the man’s black dick pushing its way into his wife and

her sex lips opening around it.  He was worried, at that point, that when the man pulled out that he would have to deal with semen dripping from his wife’s vagina.

So Gopal was forced to watch the action close-up.  When the Sergeant came inside her and pulled out everything dripped and splattered on him afterwards.  Gopal had a “birds-eye” view of Amala being penetrated and filled with semen.  Humiliatingly, he got an erection.  Later, the soldiers made him clean his wife’s messy pussy with a rag.  She was so packed that the globs of cum just oozed and drooled from her distended hole.  In front of his everyone, Gopal was forced down the dominance ladder to occupy the lowest rung. 

Kamau made Gopal offer his wife to each soldier who was about to fuck her and afterwards he had to thank the man for sexing his wife.  He became erect and soon his testicles began to ache.   Having to watch his wife take a young private’s substantial cock in her rectum, and seeing her writhe mounted on the table, drove Gopal nearly crazy.  They made him pull down his shorts to display his arousal to everyone and put a set of ball cuffs on him.  In Europe and North America they were called, “husband humblers” because they forced a man to a submissive position on his hands and knees.

Made of lacquered wood and shaped to fit behind his legs and under his buttocks, there was an opening in the center.  They got Gopal bent over, and grabbed his testicles in his scrotum trapping them.  Then they fitted the two pieces together around Gopal’s stretched scrotum and locked them shut. He got another erection and soon his balls were screaming for release.  To humiliate him, they made him masturbate, with the uncomfortable cuffs on, as the private fucked Amala in the ass.  

The young private, only 19, who had simply dropped his trousers and shorts down to his ankles, sweating, straining and sodomizing Amala for all he was worth, soon had his cock rubbing the hot spots in her vagina through the thin membrane separating her rectum from her sexhole.  Peng had been made aware of Amala’s disgust at being sodomized and was also informed that Amala hated being called a kali gandee - a black butt hole whore.  This always hurt Amala deeply and her shame was devastating to her.  For her to have to said this in front of Gopal made it worse.

The young private eventually made her cum sodomizing her.  It was soon very shaming for Gopal too, because after this they made him wipe his wife’s asshole with the same dirty rag he’d cleaned her pussy.... with everyone watching and

Chang moving in close with the hand-held camera.  It was an exquisite way to humble him.  Later when Amala was kneeling on the floor and taking cock after cock in her mouth, drooling and gagging with cum and her face slimed too, Peng made Gopal massage his wife’s throat so encourage her to swallow.  Peng and Munyambu had another terrifically nasty video in the can when it was done.

Amala and Pallav

One day, Munyambu finally decided to present Amala with a no-win situation. It would be a true Cornelian dilemma in that either choice was dreadful.  He and Kamau came over one afternoon.  They all repaired to her bedroom.  They were sitting around talking.   He told her that she had to choose between having her IUD removed (and face pregnancy) or she would have to do a strip in front of her beloved son.  When he explained all this to her.... Amala’s eyes went wide.

“I WOULD GET PREGNANT!  Oh GOD....no....NO....Please - NO.  That would ruin my family.”

“OK.....then let’s call Pallav in here when he comes home from school,” Munyambu said looking at his watch.

“What would I have.....what would I have to do,” she asked stuttering?

“Oh.... strip in front of him.  Show him a little bit.....you know,” Munyambu said grinning at her.

“Oh, no.....PLEASE ...NO...........I can’t do that.  You can’t do that to him. He’s my son.  That would destroy us.  It would destroy our relationship.”

“It’s your choice.  My doctor takes out your IUD or you show your son what you’ve got.”

Amala looked at him, realizing how deep his dark and perverted nature really was.....

“Oh.....God.....that’s so sick.”

“Your choice,” he repeated to her. 

She looked at his face and saw that he’d made up his mind.  She tried to get him to reconsider, but it was no use.  Then, the three of them heard someone at the door.  It was Pallav with his key.  He came in and went to the kitchen for a snack.

“You’d better decide right now....before he heads for his bedroom.  Probably to jerk off. You know how.....”

She interrupted, “don’t say that.”

“What....the kid doesn’t jerk off?....Yeah.....right......I’ll be he’s been jerking off a lot lately listening to what goes on here.”

“PLEASE DON’T SAY THAT.”

“You’re really in denial,  aren’t you?”

“Leave my baby boy alone....p...please,” she bawled....her eyes tearing up.

Munyambu got up off the bed and went out.  He headed down to the kitchen where he struck up a conversation with Pallav.  Amala stuck her head out the bedroom door and listened with Kamau smirking at her.  She realized that Munyambu was talking to Pallav in the kitchen.  Her eyes went wide and she got very nervous.

The policeman had drawn the boy out about what had been going on.  And the boy, bright and more composed than many, said he suspected that his mother was having an affair.  Munyambu allowed that this was so. Then the boy asked if his father knew. And Munyambu told him that some older men “go along” with their wives’ desires in these things.

“They can’t keep up with their wives if she’s  hot-blooded.....do you understand, Pallav,” Munyambu asked him solicitously?

“Uh...huh,” the boy mumbled.

“And your Mama is very hot-blooded,” Munyambu added.

“Hmm,” is all the boy said.  He was processing the whole conversation.

“And my Dad....he’s OK with that,” he suddenly asked - sounding very vulnerable?

“Your father is an irshyeka,” he told the boy. 

This was a term he thought the boy would know.  In Indian culture an irshyeka was semi-impotent man whose passions were aroused through the jealousy and envy he felt by seeing others sexing his mate.

“He knows, son....  he knows.”

Pallav didn’t say anything.

“Let’s go and see your mother,” Munyambu suggested.

The Chief Inspector had prepped the boy well and now he was prepared to “hook” Amala like a fish.  When they started walking down the hall together, as they approached the master bedroom, the door flew open. Amala heard them coming and she opened the door just as they got there.  She looked at Pallav, searching his face for distress....and finding none, she looked at Munyambu with hatred in her eyes.

“What did you say to him?”

Munyambu said nothing.

“What did he say to you, Pallav,” she asked her son?

“We just had a talk Mama....it’s ok....everything’s OK....I understand.”

“DON’T BELIEVE ANYTHING THIS GANGSTER SAYS....NOTHING....I TELL YOU HE WOULD SELL HIS OWN MOTHER IF IT GAVE HIM PLEASURE.”

Pallav looked at her and reached out to put a hand on her arm to calm her.

“What did you say to my son,” she demanded of Munyambu?

“Before you go off the deep end,” Munyambu said....

With that he leaned over and told her he would talk to her in private.  He waited until she told Pallav to excuse them - and then they went into the bedroom together and closed the door.  Pallav went to his bedroom and got by the wall separating the

bedroom to see what he could hear.  He was trying to get his mind around what Munyambu had told him.  In the bedroom Munyambu, with Kamau nodding, told what he would do her unless she shut her mouth.  He told her that he would bring her to the warehouse and shove a corkscrew up his piss hole.  Amala gasped remembering what he had done to her with the pen.  After that, she calmed down. 

He again presented her with the choice of having her IUD removed or being degraded in front of Pallav.  Amala was on the horns of a terrible dilemma.  But in the end, after having learned to live with herself with exposing her darkest sides to her husband, what Munyambu would do to her in front of the boy was the lesser of two evils.  She knew that having a black baby would stigmatize her with everyone she knew.

“If you want it to stop, all you have to do is say, “IUD,” Munyambu told her.

She made eye contact with him as she rubbed her nose.  She felt terrible.  But in the end, she went to Pallav’s room and asked him to come back with her to her room.  When they got there she told him to sit on the loveseat.

“Your Mama agreed that she didn’t want to have any secrets from you,” Munyambu said.

Amala kept her eyes down and didn’t look at her son.  She couldn’t.  And what was worse, was that Munyambu had in effect seduced her son.  He sat there more than willing to see his mother unveiled....

Munyambu told her, “stand over there.”

He made her stand in the middle of the room.  Pallav was sitting so he was facing her.  Amala stood there nervous, waiting...... wringing her hands.  Munyambu told her in a soft voice to take off her clothes. The Indian mother gulped.... looked at him and then began.  She knew she had no choice. It was either do his bidding or find herself pregnant with a black baby.  Her fingers were trembling as she took off her top, a yellow cotton choli.  Unbuttoning her lehenga, she let it slip down her to her ankles.

When it was around her ankles, she kicked the garment away. She was blushing now like mad.  There were sweaty tendrils of her thick, dark brown hair pasted to her flushed cheeks and neck.  Amala stood there trembling in her bra, panties and sandals.  She had never felt more vulnerable in her life.  She felt as though it were

she was watching herself in a movie.  She crossed her arms over her bosom.  She began to shiver.  Munyambu looked her over with a dirty smirk on his face.....

“Walk over there,” he told her. 

She was very conscious of her breasts and put her hands over the bra cups.  Munyambu made her drop them; and made her walk back and forth.  Amala looked over at Pallav and then looked away – blushing.  She was in shock being made to display herself.  She wanted to die.  She felt hot tears in her eyes.  She did not know what to do with her hands.  She kept opening and closing them, balling them into fists.  He had her stand in front of the boy and turn around slowly – making her exhibit herself like a slave.

Amala had begun to sweat.  It seemed to paste her thin cotton undergarments to her.  Pallav  was now getting a glimpse of everything she had.  Amala covered her face with her hands - sick with shame.  Munyambu then made her turn around again.  Amala was so conscious of her nipples and her hairy mound showing thru her thin panties, she wanted to shrivel up and die.  Then, he made her BEND OVER. 

Pallav’s eyes went wide involuntarily as Munyambu pushed Amala’s head down so that her big ass was right in front of his face.  Now, he could see her dark, hairy crack and the pulpy purse of her pussy outlined in the gauzy material of her crotch.  Pallav gulped and felt enormously embarrassed as he stared, but it was so compelling.... an awe-inspiring sight.  There were a few wispy tendrils of her pubic hair poking out of the leg bands of her panties.  Her labia were so plump and full that her “camel-toe” was clearly visible in the crotch of her panties. 

Pallav felt a stirring in his pants.  It made him feel guilty and excited at the same time.  What Mama didn’t know was that he was an hardcore Internet porn surfer.  And his favorite sites featured desi (Sanskrit word for all things Indian) stories, photos and videos of Indian Aunties and mothers who committed incest with sons and nephews etc.  Munyambu didn’t have to go too far to seduce the boy....

“Wiggle your ass,” Munyambu ordered her.

When Amala hesitated, Kamau took off his leather belt.  He bounded over, like a big cat, and grabbed her by her hair and yanked her around like she was a bad little girl.  Then, rearing back he brought the doubled over belt down on her panty covered buttocks.  It landed with a loud, hot, wet sound – “smack!”

“Wiggle your ass when I tell you to,” he told her.

Pallav’s eyes were bugging out of his head.  Here was his mother with her buttocks on display, and now she was getting a whipping.   Kamau gave her several hot, hard ones on her panty covered cheeks.  The sheer cotton did not protect her.  Pallav felt powerful feelings stirring in his teenaged loins as Kamau kept her bent over and hit her methodically.  Each one sounded like a pistol shot as it landed with a satisfying sound on her fat ass cheeks.  Mama began sobbing like a little girl with each blow.  Amala hung her head, moaning and sobbing softly as he beat her.  Pallav got an erection.  It was a sexy sight....Amala cried out, as her ass jiggled with each blow.

“If you don’t want more of a beating, wiggle your ass, slut,” Munyambu said to her..

Amala had no choice. She began rocking and rolling her hips, like a whore encouraging a customer to fuck her.  And the more she did it, the harder her son’s penis got.  Kamau applied the belt demandingly to her fat cheeks to insure she performed to his satisfaction.  He could see it was making the boy hot.  His Mama was an attractive matron with big breasts and full buttocks.  All three males now sported erections.  And Amala, feeling the strain, had started to sweat more, under not only her arms, but also her neck, breasts and back. The room was warm and the stress was getting to her.  Munyambu made her stand and face the boy again.

Then he told her, “take off your bra.”

Amala’s face went white.  She was overwhelmed and began sniffling, trying hard to stop from crying.  She did not want to lose control of her emotions for her son’s sake, but she really wasn’t ready to expose her breasts.  The hot feelings of shame were so strong that she could not stop sniffling.  She now realized he was going to make her strip completely naked.   Little did she realize that he was going to make her expose not only her body, but her soul too.  Munyambu was a master at this sort of psychological torture.  What he was doing now was breaking her defenses down with verbal abuse and the humiliation of exposure in front of her son. 

It would soon escalate.....Amala knew she had no choice, so she unsnapped her bra, crossed her arms and let it fall. He took it from her, and made her stand there with her arms at her sides.  He examined her bra and made a crude remark about

the size of her tits.  Amala looked at Pallav, now staring at her tits.  She did not want him to, but there was no way he could not gape at the sight before his eyes. 

Her breasts were as big as large oranges.  She kept her hands at her sides and closed her eyes.  Pallav, try as he might, could not stop his body responding to the exposure of his Mama’s breasts.  He had, like all teenage boys, been curious about his mother’s titties.  He had even masturbated fantasizing about her, like all teenage boys have done at least once.  But never in his wildest imaginings had he pictured a scene like what was now before him.

His Mama was being forced into doing a striptease in front of him.  At first, a lingering sense of propriety kept him sitting rigid; making sure he didn’t show any emotion.  But now, the overwhelming sight of his near naked mother dominated his mind and he felt a rush of surging, hormone fueled emotions NOW.  He couldn’t keep his body from responding.  The hormones of a teenage boy are volatile and intense.  He was getting a real eyeful and he felt like he was going to explode.  And, little did he know how much more there was to come.

For Amala, having to strip in front of her son was the worst thing.  To be humiliated in front of family was a terrible thing.  She felt sick as her tits bobbed and jiggled with every move she made.  Munyambu continued to work her over psychologically.  He and Kamau made lewd remarks - they said that women with breasts like hers were only good for sex.  Kamau told her she had a fat ass.  Amala was horrified, but what she could do? 

Munyambu told her, “TAKE OFF THE PANTIES.”

Amala bit her lip and steeled herself for what was to come.  Pallav was now of two minds: he wanted it to continue, of course.  He was very curious to see what Mama looked like without her panties, but he was embarrassed for her.  And actually, he would have loved to go to his room now and masturbate.

‘Oh God, please let me be strong, please let me be strong for my son’, Amala prayed silently to herself, as she hooked her thumbs into the waistband of her panties and pushed them down.  Munyambu made her stand close to Pallav as she slid them down and kicked them off.  Kamau took them from her. Then he held them up and sniffed the crotch.  He made a comment that the crotch was soiled.  Then he smelled them again. After this, he handed them to Pallav.

He told the boy his mother had a hot pussy.  Amala wanted to die.  She knew that her panties would have her sexual odor on them.  Never in her whole life would she have dreamed of such an outrage.  Pallav sniffed them without thinking about it and when he looked over and saw his mother’s disapproving look, he still couldn’t stop his arousal from ballooning.  He had sniffed his Mama’s panties on a number of occasions and used them as a masturbatory aid, so this wasn’t a first for him.  And even in this situation, he was aroused by her smell.  Kamau pushed her around so that she was facing away from the boy. Then the Chief Inspector ordered her to BEND OVER again.

He told her to put her hands on her knees and, “spread your legs nice and wide.  Show your son all your charms.”

Amala was a modest, proper Indian woman and mother.  Her son had never seen her naked, of course.  What Munyambu was making her do was above and beyond what she had expected.  A person cannot imagine the shame she felt.  Pallav got an eyeful of the hairy purse of her pussy and dark grove between her cheeks and her, hairy, dark brown anus as she spread her legs.  Everything was visible when Munyambu told her to, “spread your cheeks.”

Kamau taunted her by saying to Pallav, “Look at your Mama’s pussy and asshole.”

The boy stared at the brown hole.  He had never imagined it, but he was drawn to it as if by magic.  The most personal and private of his mother’s treasures....it was so unbelievable.  The only problem: it was costing his mother her pride.  And this caused the boy pain....He loved her and knew this was a torment for her.  So, he felt almost as much guilt as she did.

Both men made her stand up again and put her hands behind her head.  Then Kamau grabbed her tits and squeezed them.  Following this, he teased her nipples until they erected and then pulled and pinched them roughly.  He rolled her nipples between his thumb and forefinger and then gave her little openhanded smacks on her nipples, as Pallav stared intently.  Kamau then turned his attention to her butt. 

He put his hands all over them examining her like she was a slave girl.  He bounced her cheeks up and down lewdly in the palms of his hands, each fat cheek occupying one of his big hands.  Her dimpled hinds jiggled as he shook them.  It made her sick with shame as this was done not two feet from Pallav.  Kamau was treating her like a slave girl in a bazaar.

At this point, Amala felt herself slowly spinning out of control.  In addition to all the other emotions sweeping her, she began to feel familiar sensations in her loins and breasts, as Kamau felt her up.  She knew these feelings and this made her more afraid.  More worrisome than anything was the fear that her body would betray her.  She would never be able to look her son in the face again if that happened.  She did not even want to think how she would feel if he made got her wet and excited in front of her son. And what if she came?

‘Oh God.....Oh God....        PLEASE NO,’ she prayed to herself.

Poor Pallav.  He alternated between struggling with his lust, his guilt and his shrinking sense of family propriety.  He watched Kamau, who had obviously sexed her, playing with her breasts and it was obvious that Mama’s body was reacting.  He saw her nipples get pebbly and puckered.  The dark areolas and the nipples were fully erect now and she even whimpered.  In its own way that was sexy. 

When Kamau grabbed her pussy from behind and said, “she wet,” Pallav felt that his penis had begun to throb.  He turned to Pallav, grinned and said, “yup....she’s wet.” 

Pallav wondered what else they were going to do to his Mama.  Kamau did not seem threatening, just crude.  Like Mama was a sex toy and he was just playing with her.   And so it was to Amala’s horror that her nipples stayed erect and she got wet in spite of her desire to control her body’s reactions.  Munyambu pointed this out.  This was very humbling.  By calling attention to her arousal, Kamau and Munyambu were rubbing salt in the wounds they had already inflicted on her.

“Hands behind your back.  Show Pallav your nipples.  See how big they are, Pallav?  And how they stick out.  Look at them.  They’re hard.  Your Mama has the nipples of a bhagat,” he laughed and winked at Pallav.

Amala silently cursed her body for betraying her, as Munyambu again called her names and Kamau rubbed her wet piss flaps.  He did it until he got the 36 year old Indian mother so wet that Pallav could hear the wet, squishy “pussy farts” as he fingered her.  Then Kamau held up his wet fingers and thrust them under the boy’s nose.  Amala groaned.  She could not bear to see the look on her son’s face as Kamau gave him more of her sex scent. 

“Only a slut gets wet like this.  Can you believe your Mama?  She’s got a real hot pussy,” he confided to the boy.

Then, to give her a deeper emotional shock, he and the Chief Inspector put Amala in a very obscene position on her back on the bed. They made her lie down with her legs spread and her hands behind her head. 

“Oh.....please not any more...................no...........oh....Please.....don’t do this.....PLEASE..NO MORE,” she begged.

Munyambu made sure that Pallav was seated right where he could have a clear view.  Then grinning, Kamau slid his fingers obscenely up the insides of her plump thighs and said to her, “I’m gonna give you an exam.”

“Oh......no... PLEASE don’t....Oh....please don’t do that. Not in front of my son.....PLEASE.......PLEASE,” she pleaded.

Ignoring her, he pushed her thighs to her chest and made her hold them there.  In this position, her genitals and anus were completely exposed. This is the position the doctor puts a woman into for a pelvic exam. 

Munyambu asked Amala if she was embarrassed: “Did you notice the bulge in your son’s pants? You’re exciting him.....making him hot.  If you want me to stop, all you have to do is say, “IUD.”

With the thought of becoming pregnant with a black child as the alternative....Amala  felt she had no choice.  She bit her lip, looked over at her son and then at the lump in his thin cotton pants and closed her eyes.  Kamau, grinning at Pallav, began to slowly and methodically give her a complete pelvic in front of her son.

The boy kept looking at what the policeman was doing.  In this position, Mama was exposing EVERYTHING to him.  It became even more humiliating as Kamau pointed out all the parts of her pussy to him.  In effect, he was giving the boy a sex education class with his mother as the live exhibit.   As he toyed with Amala’s large clitoris, he told the boy that you could tell from the size of it and how it protruded from the prepuce that his Mama was a bhagat.   He had teased it expertly out from under the hood.  Her pussy was drooling at that point and her juices had begun to run down the crack of her ass.

He went on, “see her juicy pussy?  When a pussy gets this wet – the woman is a slut.  See her pussy lips and how big her clit is? You see? See how hairy she is - all around her pussy - and her asshole too.  See?  Look at how wet your Mama’s pussy is.  You can always tell a bhagat by how wet her pussy gets.  Can you smell her?  Her smell is strong, isn’t it?  Look at her asshole.  She has a sensitive shit-hole. Here, I’ll show you....”

He toyed with her anus and pushed his finger inside, making her groan.  Amala felt terribly violated.  His words were worse than the penetration.  It was like he was using sandpaper on her soul to scrape her raw.  She hated him for what he was doing to her.  She hated him more for what this was doing to her boy.  ‘This will scar him for life’, she worried.  Kamau kept up a running commentary, pointing out her reactions.  Especially how wet she was.  He made her groan out loud when he put his second and third fingers inside her vagina at the 1 o’clock position and began rubbing and stroking the front wall of her pussy.

He turned his hand so that his palm was down and then probed all around to find the “sweet spot”.  He found what he was looking for: a bumpy spot about two inches inside on the front wall of her vagina.  He began rubbing and pressing the spot until he had Amala wiggling her ass like a whore and humping her hips against his hand.

Pallav couldn’t believe his eyes.  His Mama was behaving like one of the girls on the desi Internet porn sites. It was the most erotic thing he had ever seen or imagined!  It seemed as if the black man was using her like a doll or a toy.  With his fingers buried deep inside her he was making her writhe, squirm and wiggle like she was a hand puppet!  And Amala felt herself losing control.  He had found her G-spot and working it relentlessly, he pushed her closer to an orgasm.  Her whole body and soul was screaming for her to be able to control herself.  She wanted to avoid, at any cost, cumming in front of her son. 

But no matter what she did - despite her best efforts to control herself, it was no use.  Her hips, rocking and rolling, showed the boy how far gone she was and soon, as he began a frantic frigging of her pussy, she began spraying.  As the full impact of the orgasm overwhelmed her, she squirted her pussy juice to wet the bed covers. The more he rubbed that spot, the more fluid spurted and spewed from her urethra.  Pallav had his hand in his pocket and had begun to squeeze his penis - inflamed by the spectacle he was witnessing.

Amala grunted and groaned as the waves of pleasure surged through her body. When the storm rolling through her body had subsided, she was so ashamed.  She turned her face to hide behind her right bicep.  She knew that Pallav had seen the whole nasty spectacle.  Her juice had splashed all over the bed - she had ejaculated so much.  Kamau shoved his wet fingers at Pallav again to give him his mother’s scent. 

Amala had come up to a sitting position with her legs together and her arms crossed over her big breasts.  She was desperate to try and regain some dignity in front of her son....

“Only a bhagat squirts pussy juice like that, Pallav,” Munyambu said to the boy.

Amala, hearing that, wanted to cry.  She was bleeding in her soul; the mental pain was so overwhelming.  To have her son see her cum was mental torture of the worst kind.  She felt so ashamed she wanted to die. And it got worse when Munyambu made her say what she was....

“Say I’m a dirty bhagat.”

“Please don’t make me say that.....PLEASE....NO....PLEASE.”

“SAY IT.”

“I...I’m a....dirty bhagat.

Pallav had also been swept up by the scene.  His penis was throbbing and his balls had started to ache.  It was driving him crazy.  The whole thing was unbelievable and completely extreme.  Here he was in his own house and a strange man, her mother’s  lover apparently, had masturbated her right in front of him.  He was overwhelmed - completely in the grip of what Munyambu had created in the room.  Munyambu, for his part, was only beginning to put the Indian mother in distress.  He went over to her lingerie drawer, rummaged around and found her vibrator.  He held it up and Amala’s face went white when she saw it. 

The Black Mamba

Now here in her bedroom, she was confronted by the sex toy she used in private.  She bought it online.  Its name was the “Black Mamba”.  Now Munyambu was waving it around.  It was all of 23 centimeters long and 18 centimeters in circumference....... a surreal copy of a black man’s cock and balls.  She looked over at Pallav to see the shocked reaction on his face.  She wanted to say something, but she didn’t know what to say! Kamau spoke for her.

“You know what that is, Pallav? It’s Mama’s sex toy.  She uses it to fuck herself.  She likes big, black dick so much that she needs this all the time.”

Pallav gulped hard and his eyes went from the device to his mother and then back again.  Her reaction showed him that his Mama had incredibly strange and secret desires.  He was astonished with the revelation that his Mama had needs and cravings that he did not think a mother could or should have.  ‘What does my father think of this,’ he wondered?

“Are you surprised to see this, Amala? Isn’t this what you use to fuck your slutty pussy?  Well, I don’t want you to miss your daily session with your fuck toy,” Munyambu said.

“Oh, Pallav....forgive me...please forgive me,” Amala mumbled - glancing at the boy quickly and then looking down at her hands folded in her lap.

“Give him a demonstration,” Munyambu said.

She looked up at him and, with her eyes showing desperation, began imploring him to let her avoid this new indignity.  After listening to her whine and plead, Munyambu gave her a look that melted her resistance and she took the toy from him.  He made lie on her back and masturbate in front of her son with her own vibrator.  He ordered her to do it the way she did it when no one was looking.  Humiliated, she had no choice and began to run it slowly from the vaginal opening – sluicing it thru her wet labia to run the tip all over her labia and finally around her clit. 

She vibrated her clitoris for awhile and that made her moan.  She soon came by concentrating on her clitoris.  And then, with Munyambu directing her, she worked it into her vagina.   Finally, she’d forced the whole thing into her pussy and began working it in and out....in and out.  Soon, she tensed up and her legs went stiff and as the waves of pleasure surged thru her body, she let go of the vibe.   The clenching of her vaginal muscles as she writhed in the throes of orgasm squirted the vibrator out of her pussy.

“LOOK – look at how your Mama cums,” Munyambu said to the boy as the vibrator went sailing.

He picked it up and showed the boy the nasty ring of “lather” around the base of  the shaft.  Amala covered her face with her hands, moaning softly and just lay

there.  Munyambu went to the bathroom and came back holding a tube of jelly.  He lubed the vibrator.

“Let’s show him how much you like being fucked in your shit-hole,” he announced.

“Oh....no,” she groaned.  “Not that....PLEASE,” she begged and grabbed his wrist.

She didn’t want Pallav to see that.  He’d seen enough.  That would show her son that she was a kali gandee, a dark woman who liked to be fucked in the ass.  There was nothing lower among high-born Indians.  Amala knew if her son saw that side of herself he would never look at her same way again.  Her shame had grown with each violation, but if Munyambu sodomized her with her own vibrator and she came, that would be too much.   She looked over at Pallav and saw he still had an erection tenting his shorts.  Munyambu greased the toy well with some lube; and then indicated with a motion of his hand that he wanted Amala on her belly.  Groaning and reluctant, she rolled over and waited submissively.

Munyambu said to Pallav, “wait till you see this.”

He spread open her cheeks to expose her anus and then spit on it.  Then he took his time and forced about 14 centimeters of the tool into her rectum.  He used her moaning and whimpers to let him pace the intrusion.  Working it in and out, he had her wiggling and crying out at the invasion of her most personal hole.  But soon he forced it past both sphincters and got it deep in her rectum.   He began to rub her clitoris too and while Amala kept her eyes closed and tried to will her body not to react, not to shame herself anymore in front of her son, he found a rhythm and sodomizing her with her own vibrator, made her cum.  She cried out and there was no doubt that she’d had an orgasm. After this, Munyambu wanted her to admit what she was to the boy.....

“Say.... I’m a kali gandee....SAY IT.”

This was the worst name Amala could ever imagine.....but she had been so shamed by her own performance, that Munyambu only had to bully her a little and she said it....tears rolling down her cheeks.

“I....I’m a kali gandee.  Forgive me Pallav....OH GOD, PLEASE FORGIVE ME.”

Munyambu told the boy, “Your Mama’s a shit-hole slut.  That’s the lowest kind of bhagat.....a kali gandee!”

Amala covered her face with her hands in disgrace.  She knew her son would never see her same way again.  Deep down, she was devastated her son had seen her darkest side; and he himself had gotten aroused.  This was real torture.  This was as bad as anything Munyambu and his goons had ever done to her.  It was extreme sexual humiliation for her and a violation of her son’s innocence.  It was mental abuse...... terrible mental abuse - easy for Munyambu to employ as he seemed to be a expert in such mental torture. 

Pallav, of course, had been perversely aroused.  He had some dark thoughts of his own seeing what Munyambu had done to his Mama.  She was his own mother, after all.  And to be aroused by your Mama was wrong, he knew.   But, perhaps because it was his own mother that he found it so compelling.  He rocked back and forth on the seat, trying to relieve the unbearable tension he was feeling.  His penis was as hard as could be and drooling with excitement.  His balls ached and he didn’t know what to do.

“Please don’t do anything else to her,” he finally said to Munyambu. 

The Chief Inspector looked over a bit surprised, but then grinned at the boy’s defense of his Mama.  This was the first protest from him.  He hadn’t said anything before this.  Perhaps he was ashamed he had an erection.  He was so aroused that the front of his pants was wet with pre-cum. 

“Don’t be a baby,” Munyambu said to him evenly. “I’m giving you the opportunity every nice Indian boy wants.  What boy like you hasn’t masturbated thinking about his Mama or his Auntie?  You should thank me.  Look,” he said pointing to the tent in his pants.  “You like it. Your prick doesn’t lie.”

Hearing that, Pallav’s courage abandoned him and he hung his head.  He felt ashamed.  His raging erection spoke volumes. In fact, his balls ached and he needed to cum.  What would Mama think if she knew he was going to masturbate after this, thinking of her?  And yet, he just had to.  It was driving him crazy.   Munyambu anticipated this.  And what he was going to do to Amala next would shame her down to her toes.  He had Kamau grab her by her thick black hair and forced her down to her knees. With Pallav’s eyes growing wider by the second, the black man took out his big cock out for the boy to see.

Turning back to Amala, Kamau said, “let’s show him how much you love the real thing.” 

He held her by her hair, but it wasn’t necessary.  Any resolve she felt earlier had crumbled and she was like putty in his hands.  As Pallav watched, transfixed, she lapped at his big balls, ran her tongue lovingly up and down the shaft and gave his manhood, every part of it, wet sucking kisses.  Kamau was very hard and just stood there with his hands on his hips enjoying her oral worship. 

Soon she had it in her mouth and wetly sucked on him.  The corners of her mouth glistened with her saliva and when she took it out of her mouth there was so much pre-cum and her spit that it just dribbled from her mouth.  She used the fingers of her other hand to cup and fondle his ball sack and ran her nails over the crinkled, hairy bag at the same time.  Pallav was on fire.  He felt very self-conscious but wanted to touch himself so badly.  All he could do was watch his mother perform a totally scandalous act, one he had only enjoyed watching Indian Aunties perform on desi porn sites.  The Chief Inspector stepped up and unzipped.  He took his cock out too and stood next to Amala.  Soon, she was sucking both men....

That’s when Munyambu turned to Pallav and said, “take it out boy and jerk off.  It’s OK...It’s time you got some relief.”

Amala’s eyes flew open and she began to beg Munyambu to send the boy from the room. 

“OH PLEASE, don’t let him do that,” she whined.

“You see your son....his balls are ready to burst.  He’s been suffering watching you perform like a slut.  He needs some relief, woman.”

Amala looked over at Pallav and then back at Munyambu – she was paralyzed.  The Chief Inspector had decided and when he made a motion for the boy to drop his pants, Pallav didn’t resist.  He was ready to explode and began untying the drawstring on his loose cotton pants.  Amala looked at what her son was doing and realized that it was inevitable.  Munyambu would get his way.  And her son, being a teenager, was probably ready to explode with the show she had been forced to give.  It was twisted and wrong, but at that point, she was a marionette being manipulated by a man who was a master at such things.

Still kneeling, she watched as Pallav pulled down his white jockey shorts.  His uncircumcised penis sprang up as if on a string.  He was of normal size and now that his penis was on display Amala could see he had a lalloo, a Hindu term for a penis with a pinkish-brown shaft and a hot red cock head.   This was considered an upper-class coloration for a Hindu male.  Loving him so and now seeing his vulnerable organ, she felt a rush of affectionate feelings which tempered the guilt and shame she had been feeling. The boy began stroking his penis as he watched his Mama. 

Kamau and Munyambu went back to making Amala suck their cocks.  Amala still kneeling, had Kamau’s dick in her mouth and used her right hand to rub and touch his right buttock or his ball sack.  She then held Munyambu’s cock and sucked on it.  Soon Pallav had spread the wetness drooling from his penis all over the shaft and was stroking himself very carefully.  He was trying to stretch out and enjoy his masturbation, but he was so excited that he knew he would cum very quickly if he really took his penis in hand and jerked it hard.

Kamau, meanwhile, forced Amala to take more of his dick and made her gag.  Her retching sounds only added to the mind-blowing excitement Pallav felt.  His mother was behaving like a bhagasya - a woman whose mouth was being used like a vagina.  As the black man approached his precious moment, Mama looked over at Pallav who avoided her eyes.  He grunted three times and began hosing Amala’s mouth with his bountiful ejaculation.  She was so ashamed that her son was watching her service a black man with her mouth.

“Oh shit.......here it cums....take it slut.....take it ALL,” Kamau groaned as his penis twitched and gushed his load. 

Pallav, tickling his ball sack and stroking himself slow and then fast....slow and then fast, erupted like a fountain too.  His semen flew two feet to land on the carpet.  He milked his prick and he kept spurting.  Finally, he just squeezed it to make the last drop fall as he watched his Mama try and handle the load being deposited in her mouth.  When he had relieved himself of his precious semen and looked at his Mama, her eyes were on his.  She had seen him cumming from the corner of her eye.  She hated that he had reached a climax watching her.  It was a supreme humiliation.

When it was just a trickle Kamau pulled out and made Pallav see what Mama had in her mouth before she was allowed to swallow his precious “gift”.  Pallav saw her gulp and swallow the man’s semen.  Then Amala had to lick up the droplet on

the tip of the urethral opening.  Finally Munyambu had her lick and kiss him from his nut sack to the crown of his dick.  Pallav was lightheaded as he watched his mother worship the older man’s dick with her full lips and pink tongue.  When Munyambu came in her mouth, she looked over and locked eyes again with Pallav.  For mother and son it was another hotly charged emotion packed moment.  Feelings of tenderness, lust, shame and guilt were swirled together in a potent cocktail that was intoxicating and disturbing to both.  Pallav, humiliated, pulled up his shorts and pants and fled the room, leaving his mother with the two men.

“Well that’s enough for today. You’ve shown your boy what you are,” Munyambu said, leaning back on the divan.

Amala was emotionally exhausted.  Munyambu crooked his finger and made her come over to him and kneel at this feet.  He took her face in his hands and began talking to her.

“I can’t take anymore,” she said. “I can’t. It’s emotionally the worst thing I could ever have imagined.”

“Call me Daddy,” Munyambu said...correcting her.

“Yes....yes Daddy, I.....I .....can’t do it anymore....Please Daddy,” she whined.

“Yes, you can....you know why?  You know why,” he said?

“W...why....D...Daddy?”

“Because you’re Daddy’s dirty slut.....aren’t you?”

“N....no.... Please don’t make me say that.”

“Say I’m Daddy’s dirty slut,” he crooned to her.

Soon, tears welling up in her eyes.... she said what he wanted her to say, “I’m Daddy’s dirty slut.”

Amala put her face in her hands and sobbed.  She was so ashamed......How much lower could she be forced to go? Little did she know....

Marital Shame

“Oh....God.....he’s here,” Amala said turning to her husband.  “He just buzzed...He’s at the front gate.  I had to let him in.....stall him...stall him!”

“Chief Inspector Adoyo.........oh, shit,” said Gopal - going to the window to look. Their house was on a sizeable piece of land in the suburb of Hurlingham with a long driveway that went from the front gate to the house. The Rangan family were well-to-do and because of Nairobi’s history of violence, had a watch guard and burglar grills on their house.  As Gopal stared, he saw the lorry coming up the driveway, past the little kiosk that housed the guard.

“Stall him.....I promised him that the next time he saw me I’d be shaven. I’ve got to go the bathroom ......quick,” she said.

“Don’t worry dear.....I’ll stall him..... I’ll get him a drink....you go....go,” he said.

“Play for time.....please,” she begged.

Amala ran to the bathroom and rummaged around in the cabinet for the shaving cream her husband used on weekends when he didn’t use his electric razor.  The Chief Inspector had ordered her to shave her pussy.  She was hairy, including around her anus....so she was nervous getting everything together that she needed.  She knew that if she wasn’t bare down there, Munyambu had promised her that he would hang her by her wrists from the big tree in her garden and use a pair of pliers to pull her pubic hairs out slowly one-by-one.  Then he told her that he would use a sjambok on her buttocks.

The thought of that sort of torture in her own home was more than she was willing to bear.  She sat on the sink and used Gopal’s shaving mirror.  First she used a scissors and then lavished a huge handful of shaving cream all over her crotch.  She had to be careful not to nick herself, and it was tedious going. Shaving herself as carefully as possible, she was soon nice and smooth.  Then she did her underarms too.  She even made use of the electric razor she used on her legs afterwards to apply the finishing touches.  The hardest part was shaving around her anus, but she did it.  She rinsed herself off, brushed her hair, refreshed her lipstick, applied a dab of perfume behind her ears and stripped off her clothes. She put on a short silk lounging robe and changed into a pair of black heels.  Then she headed down the hallway. 

Gopal had admitted the Chief Inspector, Kamau, Simba, Mosi and Zuberi.  They were seated in the living room, and Gopal had busied himself with fetching them

drinks.  Before she entered the room, Amala checked her pubic area one more time.  Munyambu had instructed her that the next time he came over she was to be “shaven” on his arrival.  She walked in and Gopal’s heart was in his mouth.  His wife looked beautiful.  She showed no emotions on her face but when she caught her husband’s eye, a glimmer of shame was there.

The Chief Inspector looked her over and smiled. She was a fulsome, well-built, brown skinned woman.  Then he told Gopal to fetch her a drink.  Neither of them drank alcoholic drinks, but Gopal kept a bottle of scotch and a bottle of brandy for guests. Munyambu told them he wanted both of them to have a drink. 

Gopal gulped, nodded and trotted over to the credenza.  He came back with a scotch and soda for himself and one for Amala.  She tried to beg off, but Munyambu said something and she took the drink and sat on the couch next to him.   He had patted the seat indicating he wanted her to sit next to him.  As Gopal watched, Munyambu pulled her close.  Presently, he grabbed her tits and gave them affectionate little squeezes.

“By the way, is your son home,” he asked her?

“He’s with my parents this weekend,” she admitted.

“He’s working on a school project,” Gopal added.

For Gopal his fear was that he would be compelled to show his son that he was a irshyeka, a man who got pleasure from watching his wife sexed by other men.  He worried about the boy seeing him in this light.  And for Amala, it was enough that Pallav had seen her naked and that she had to masturbate in front of him and came in his presence.  The awful experience of seeing her son aroused by what she had been forced to do filled her with shame.  The humiliation she felt only added to the sulfurous mix of emotions which swirled like a maelstrom through her.  Seeing the men in her living room and imagining what she would be doing very soon filled her with dismay.  Gopal was secretly very pleased that the boy was not home.

“Let’s go to the bedroom,” Munyambu suggested.

Gopal looked at his wife, and gulped. There was nothing to do, but obey.  The five men and the couple padded down the hallway to the couple’s bedroom. Twenty minutes later, the familiar sounds of Amala being pleasured wafted through the house.  Anyone who looked in on the couple would have seen Kamau and Zuberi

naked from the waist down.  They had just finished fucking Amala.  She was on her back and lying there in a post-orgasmic fog.  Gopal was sitting on the small divan.  He made sure not to look any of the men in the eye.  Amala moved her thighs open and closed, just a little, feeling the residual spasms pulsing through her loins.  Mosi had brought the Kikuyu maid with him on his way back from the kitchen to get something for them to drink. 

“Mchumba, the mistress of the house has something to show you,” Munyambu said, grinning and pointing at Amala.   This made Kamau laugh out loud.  Mchumba was in her early twenties, a young pretty thing.  Very black and slim with a lovely smile.  She came into the bedroom very warily.  When she saw Amala lying on the bed, naked, she was very surprised.  And the sight of Kamau, Simba and Zuberi naked from the waist down made her cover her mouth with her hand.  She was Kikuyu and then men from her tribe were all circumcised when they became teens.  Munyambu and his men were all Luo, who didn’t practice circumcision.  She giggled as she caught glimpses of their cocks.

It was a terribly cruel thing for Munyambu to say that, ‘Amala had something to show her.’  As he said it, he motioned to Simba who went over and took hold of Amala’s ankles and hauled her legs up.....until her knees were pointing at the wall behind her.  This exposed the purse of her pussy and now, newly shaven, her prominent labia could be clearly seen.  As he pulled her thighs wide open...then wider.... the young maid could see everything! 

Amala’s crotch was so bare that everything she had, not only her womanhood, but her brown hole was on obscene display.   Amala’s pussy, with its black-tipped inner labia in all its glory, was completely revealed.  Her sex lips gaped open.  Amala tried to resist having her legs pulled open.  She tried to fight Simba a little as he spread her, but it was no use.  Her pussy was full of cum and that could be seen too.  Mchumba looked at her mistress in a new light.  To see her lying there like a whore for the men was an unbelievable sight.  She would never see her mistress in the same light again.

“Gopal, get her vibrator....the big, black one she keeps in her drawer....the drawer with her underwear,” said Munyambu.

Gopal looked like he didn’t know what Munyambu was saying.

“You know what I mean.  It’s in her drawer.  GO GET IT....NOW.”

Mchumba watched as Gopal dutifully got up to do the boss man’s bidding. She would never see Gopal as the big-shot master of the house either.  What attracted the girl’s eyes like a magnet, however, was  the sight of Amala’s open pussy.  Shaven and spread open she could see everything.  Her fat outer labia....now so open....her purple-nearly-black-at-the-edges inner labia, like a butterfly’s wings preparing for flight....her large clitoris, now well out of its hood and swelling hot pink; and the vaginal opening drooling a pearly river of cum.  And there was a juicy gathering at the bottom of her slit with her vaginal secretions and semen ....All yawning open to reveal its mysteries now.  ‘What a come down for the Indian woman,’ Mchumba thought to herself.  ‘She’s not so high and mighty now!’

Gopal came over, flushed, carrying his wife’s vibrator.  Zuberi began chuckling at the sight of it.

“So that’s what she uses when we’re not around,” he laughed. 

Mchumba chuckled at this too.   ‘So, my mistress uses a fake cock to make herself happy,’ she thought. ‘Her husband must not be much of a man for her to need that,’ she thought.   The girl looked around and realized that all these men had probably had her mistress too.    She was also very curious as to what they would do to Amala – while she was in the room!  The Chief Inspector took the vibrator from Gopal and brandishing it... brought it over to Amala. 

“Do you want me to use this on you,” he asked her?

“Oh....NO.”

“Or, do you want me to use the sjambok on you,” he asked?

“We have one in the lorry....all I gotta do is say the word and he’ll get it,” he said yanking a thumb in Mosi’s direction.

“Oh....NO....NO....PLEASE DON’T MAKE ME DO IT....”

“Do what?”

“Use it....use it,” she moaned.

“Do you want me to shove this in your wife’s cunt,” Munyambu asked, turning to Gopal?

The husband looked at the maid quickly, and then at the Munyambu and said, “not with her present....please Sir.”

Mchumba realized that her boss was down low on the pecking order in this room.....She turned to look at the Chief Inspector with wonder in her eyes.  She was secretly pleased that a black man, even if he was Luo, was lording it over her Indian boss.  She was not very fond of Amala, but had even less regard for Gopal.  Only Pallav in the house had her respect.  The boy had always treated her well.

Munyambu turned to Mosi and said quietly, “strip him put the cuffs on his balls.”

Dominated

As Mchumba watched, shocked, the gnomish older man, who was still fully dressed, grabbed Gopal, manhandled him and then stripped him.  Gopal put up only token resistance.  He seemed paralyzed as if the Chief Inspector’s dominance, his own shame and Mosi’s sheer ugly presence had hamstrung him.  The Corporal pulled off his shirt, khaki shorts and his jockey shorts.   Mchumba found herself staring at her boss’s exposed, uncircumcised lalloo.  She giggled as he was somewhat small in size. 

The girl found it mind-blowing to see her boss taken over and controlled.  Almost as out-of-place as seeing her mistress with her legs held open for inspection.  And she could see that Gopal was very embarrassed to be naked in front of her.  She stared at his penis.  He was very nervous, so it was somewhat fear shrunken.  And his testicles had been drawn up into his body.  He looked very feminine from the waist down to Mchumba.

But what really blew Mchumba’s mind was the contraption that Mosi took out of a canvas bag he’d brought.  The “ball cuffs”.  Gopal had worn cuffs at the warehouse during the Cuckold Bench video shoot and he felt sick when he saw them.  He was horrified that Mchumba was going to witness this degradation too.  Made of lacquered wood and shaped to fit behind his legs and under his buttocks, there was an opening in the center.  Mosi, sweating with the exertion, got Gopal bent over, and had trouble getting Gopal’s testicles to descend so he could trap them in his scrotum .  Finally he got them down far enough to fit the two pieces together around his nuts and lock the cuffs. 

Now clad only in his socks and sandals, with the device trapping his balls, Gopal tried to walk but could only stumble around.   He looked comical.  They had turned him into a “court jester”.  He only took a step or two before he was forced to squat.

And then he fell forward on his hands and knees.  Mchumba watched as Gopal was reduced to a crawling thing.  Looking around the room, she saw glee on the faces of her fellow blacks.  She didn’t want to show her employers how she felt, so she put her hand over her mouth to conceal her smile.  It was quite a sight she was witnessing and she had all she could do to not laugh out loud.

Munyambu and his crew’s smug pleasure was so apparent, as they forced Gopal down the dominance ladder.  Mchumba stared at the sight of Gopal reduced to a puppet.  Amala looked over too with sadness and sympathy in her eyes as her husband was cruelly dominated.  Mosi, grinning like a mad black leprechaun, pushed Gopal this way and that, having sport with him.  The poor man crawled around a bit and then, resigned, he just cowered on his hands and knees. 

Gopal’s balls, trapped in the cuffs, looked obscene.  Like two skinned baby animals that had gotten caught in a trap.   It was so humiliating for him to be rendered so powerless.  The very things that gave him power as a man now held him helpless in front of his wife and their maid.

“Are you ready for us to fuck your wife,” Munyambu asked him?

Gopal, for his part, was emotionally defeated.  With Mchumba watching him struggling to get up, only to be forced down on all fours to relieve the tension on his scrotum, his humbled position exposing the weakness in his body and soul, he didn’t have much fight in him.  Trying again to find a way to move with the cuffs on, he just ended up rolling over and grunting in pain.  The awfulness of it all registered most on Amala’s face. 

Since he hadn’t answered the question, Kamau, came over, with his wet cock dangling, pulled Gopal up so that he was on his hands and knees again.  He got behind him and squeezed his nuts and Gopal, after wincing and then crying out in pain, became as submissive as a lamb.  His balls were in another man’s hand and that man  slowly and sadistically compressed them!  Gopal, sweating like a pig and groaning in pain, found whatever shred of resistance he had left, had evaporated.

Munyambu, meanwhile, had made Amala say she wanted the vibrator.  So, he began rubbing her pussy with it.  Working the tip all over her labia and all around her clitoris, he got her moaning.  When he held it alongside her clitoris at the 1 o’clock position, Amala began writhing like a trapped eel on a hook. 

“Ask us real nice to fuck your wife,” Kamau barked at Gopal.

Kamau still had Gopal’s nuts.  The Indian husband’s spirit was broken now. 

“Yes, Sir,” he said so quietly that almost no one heard. “Please... fuck my wife.”

Kamau didn’t feel he was enthusiastic enough and squeezed his balls again.

Gopal cried out and then screamed, “PLEASE FUCK MY WIFE SIR.” 

Mchumba realized that her employers were just hand puppets now.  They were trapped by men who took what they wanted and would use violence whenever it suited them.  And it was obvious that they just loved to humiliate the couple. Kamau pointed to a place next to the bed.  Gopal crawled over.  He hated to let his wife and the maid see him crawling like a toad. But, beaten now, he struggled over to take his place beside his wife.  He had to  do a humiliating “duck-walk” to get to where she was.  

He looked at Mchumba and grimaced.  Mosi, Simba and Zuberi began mocking him as he shuffled over.  Gopal avoided looking at Mchumba standing at right angles to him.   Kamau made him “stand guard”.  As he watched Munyambu playing expertly with his wife, he got an erection.  Amala was wiggling her ass like a coochie dancer as Munyambu worked her pussy with the vibrator.  And then, Mchumba, trying to digest what she was seeing, stared Munyambu, who when he saw her looking at him, grinned at her as if to say, ‘well, young woman....now you see who’s really in charge.’ 

Kamau, seeing his erection, said to Gopal dismissively, “play with yourself now.”

Mchumba felt sorry for Gopal at that moment.  He was being humiliated in the cruelest of ways.  Mosi and Simba began taking off their trousers and shorts.   Munyambu played with Amala some more.  He was fully dressed still.   But when Simba’s dick was seen it was fully erect; and Gopal felt like sinking into the floor.  He realized that this man’s long dick was going to be inside his wife too.  Mosi had the go-ahead to enjoy her oral attentions.  He made her kiss, lick and suck his dick and then came in her mouth.  He pulled out prematurely so that he finished ejaculating partly on her face. 

Gopal gasped, seeing his wife so degraded.  He had begun to quietly touch himself.  He had gotten the pre-cum all over the head of his prick and was moving his hand slowly up and down the shaft of his penis.  He was sitting on his calves and had his left hand tickling his stretched nut sack as he played with his penis. At one point,

he locked eyes with the maid and Gopal looked for sympathy in the maid’s face.  She turned away. 

Gopal, humiliated, stopped playing with himself.  He began to masturbate again when Simba stepped up and began fucking his wife.  Very quickly, Amala was moaning, writhing, grunting, groaning and crying out.  When Simba got his long, black dick in Amala and began to give her a memorable ride, Gopal began stroking himself harder.  As his dick bottomed out in her shaven, wet vaginal sheath and began thumping her “epicenter”....she began squirting and screaming as a deep vaginal-uterine orgasm hit her like an express train.  Her eyes rolled back in her head as wave after wave of pleasure surged up thru her belly to her breastbone and down her thighs.

What was particularly hurtful and devastating to Gopal was listening to his wife as she was fucked by another man.  He knew the sounds she made when they made love.  She would cry out, “ah, Ah, oh, Oh.”  But as young Simba, only 19,  gave her a royal shafting....her cries went on longer, to be sure.  But it was how loud her “AH’s” and “OH’s” became.  Her voice went up another octave and when she came she was shrieking. 

Gopal had never heard her make sounds like that when he made love to her.....It was heart-rending....Simba fucked her royally with Mchumba seeing everything and made her cum easily.   He got so worked up that he came within moments watching Simba fuck Amala senseless.  The maid had slunk back against the wall watching the depravities orchestrated by the Chief Inspector.  It was like an orgy.  She was just a nice country girl and had never seen anything like it.

Then Simba, who still hadn’t cum, got some lotion from the bathroom and working with Kamau ....they began to double team Amala.  Kamau got on the bed on his back.  Simba got Amala straddling Kamau who worked his cock into her sexhole.   Simba greased her anus and worked some of it into her rectum.  Then kneeling behind her, he called to Gopal and told him to put his cock into his wife.  Gopal muttered, “Oh, shit,” and shuffled over.  It was hard for him to get up on the bed without the ball cuffs hurting him, but he did it.

It was very humiliating.  He had to take hold of Simba’s spear and put it right on her anus.  Touching another man’s penis and putting the head of that cock right up against her wife’s asshole.  The young black man soon had her shit hole loosened up and it took him just a moment to fully work it in and penetrate her.  With a cock in her rectum, Amala began to squeal and groan.   Her sphincter soon gripped the

base of his cock  - squeezing it.  Gopal had to slink off the bed and wound up squatting next to the bed....watching Simba fuck his wife in the ass.  He looked over to see Mchumba with the fingers of her left hand splayed over her face, watching the action, but obviously embarrassed by it all.

As everyone watched, Simba began to ride Amala like she was a stolen car.  He started off slow, but soon he humped relentlessly in and out of her asshole like a piston, slickly penetrating her bowels.  Now that he was fully inside her, he gripped her sweaty hips, so he could plow into her asshole with hard, powerful strokes.  Before long, he was slamming into her with all his power to skewer her bowels.  Involuntarily, Amala cried out. 

This along with a low constant, keening moan came from her lips.  Her hands pawed helplessly at Kamau’s shoulders and biceps each time Simba really jammed it into her.  Next, incoherent animal-like sounds and a long moan came from her mouth, the volume rising and falling in time with Simba’s humping.  Kamau just lay there, content to let her writhe and wiggle, impaled as she was on his cock, as Simba made her squirm like an eel on a hook.

Mosi and Munyambu clapped their hands in time with his thrusts into her open ass hole.  It seemed to Gopal as if it would go on forever.  Simba stayed hard stroke after stroke,  battering her body.  Only when he felt her submit totally and cum, did he ejaculate in her rectum.   He came cursing her and cried out triumphantly as he filled her asshole with his hot cum.   Mosi and Munyambu applauded as he got off her.

“You’re a kali gandee,” Munyambu said to her.

He made her say it too.  Kamau began humping her and Munyambu got behind her and taking off his belt, began to whip her fat buttocks to encourage her to fuck Kamau.  As Mchumba watched bug-eyed, Amala began to perform like a slut, or in her parlance, a dirty bhagat.  She wiggled her ass up and down on Kamau’s glistening, slippery dick like a female dog in heat.  Sweat flew off her and her tits bobbed and swayed crazily as she rode the cock in her cunt.

She kept shaking her ass, as well as going up and down, mounted on Kamau’s substantial cock.  Her cries got louder and louder as she approached her cum. When she climaxed, she squealed like a pig and then slumped on Kamau’s chest like she was going to pass out.  Kamau soon pushed her off him and got up.  Then, pulling her over to the side of the bed, and making her sprawl with her legs open, he stood over her and jerked off on her, aiming at her pussy. 

When he came, he made his ejaculation land on her shaved crotch to add to the fuck slime drooling out of her ravaged sex hole.  Then, Munyambu called to Gopal and crooked his finger at him.  He wanted him to get between his wife thighs.  He pointed to Amala’s sloppy crotch and Gopal shuffled humiliatingly over to it.  He frowned.  He knew that when he would be made to lick his wife’s messy genitals, he would be a fuddi-chus (cunt licker). 

“You know what you have to do...right,” Munyambu asked him?

“Uh....OH GOD.  Do I have to? OH...please don’t make me do that.......oh....uhhh....ooohh.”

Munyambu pointed again to Amala’s wet pussy. Gopal leaned forward, and with Kamau pushing on the back of his head, began working on his wife’s wet sex.  He was made to kiss, lick and suck it. Of course it was packed with semen and he was in effect “cleaning” her. Since Kamau had deposited sperm in her vagina and Simba had filled her rectum, along with her copious secretions, she was a mess.   A very degrading task.  They kept him at it until Amala came.   Gopal kissed and licked his wife’s pussy and even thrust his tongue into her vagina to lap up the fuck slime.  And he got to make his wife cum with an audience watching.  

“Well, I’m gonna have her sit on your face,” Munyambu said. “So, you get to clean her dirty asshole too,” he said grinning.

As Mchumba watched, totally blown away, they took the cuffs off Gopal and he was made to lie on his back on the bed.  They got Amala straddling his head - and then sit down on her husband’s face, facing his feet.  This put her anus right on his nose.  She rested her hands on his hips and Kamau actually pulled her ass cheeks apart to make sure that Gopal had his nose and mouth right where it would do the most good.  Munyambu directed Amala to rock back and forth over her husband’s face.  She had to wiggle her hips and ass to rub her pussy all over her husband’s nose, mouth and chin.  He had to keep his mouth open and use his lips and tongue on his wife’s wet vagina and her clitoris. 

Gopal found it disgusting since her dirty shit hole was pressing right up against his nose,  but he to concentrate and lick her labia and clitoris when they were presented.  When Amala moved vigorously back and forth, his face was being

roughly used, allowing her to masturbate and whether he wanted to or not.  He had to endure it....smothered by her open pussy and her anus.  Munyambu kept the couple doing this until Amala came and this caused whatever semen remained in her vagina to gush.  Lastly, Gopal was made to stick his tongue inside her shit hole to clean her there.  The  maid watched wide-eyed as they performed like trained animals.  Both of them had really stepped down....all the way down!  Poor Gopal had truly become a irshyeka (cuckold).

After this, Munyambu sent Mchumba to the kitchen for beer and curry.  She soon returned toting six bottles of beer and a pot of curry.  The Chief Inspector opened the beer and soon all were drinking and relaxing.  Gopal was sitting on the floor hugging his knees.  Mchumba was allowed to leave.  Amala was sprawled on the bed, in a fetal position and rubbing her nose.  She seemed like she was in another world. And in truth, after all her orgasms she was floating in a fog.  It was time for the Chief Inspector to have some fun with her. 

Forced to Drink

“You must be thirsty, Amala,” he said addressing her.

“Uh...oh....ummm...yeah...a little,” she said.

“Good, Mosi, give her a beer,” he said holding up his bottle for emphasis.

She shook her head, ‘no’.

“I want you to drink.....”

Amala finally seemed like she woke up. She stared at the bottle.  Gopal felt butterflies in his stomach at the prospect of seeing her forced.  Since she didn’t want to do it, Munyambu had them haul her up and plop her into a chair that Kamau brought over from her make-up table.   They pulled her arms back and Kamau held her head and using her thick hair as a lever he pulled her head back.  When she wouldn’t open her mouth to take a drink, Mosi took hold of her right nipple and squeezed it.  Then he did the same to her other nipple. 

When she still wouldn’t do what he wanted, he pulled the nipple out as far as it would go and then gave it a sickening little twist, making her howl.  She soon opened her mouth.  Mosi poured it in and Munyambu had Gopal come over and rub her throat to encourage her to swallow.  This was the routine.  When she

gagged and balked, the gnomish Mosi tortured her nipples again.  As he rubbed his wife’s throat, Gopal developed a very stiff penis again.

It was erotic watching his wife being forced to swallow and struggle to obey what Munyambu wanted her to do.  Gopal, sickened, got aroused anyway by the sight of his wife being forced to swallow against her will.  First one bottle....and then a second.  She whined, whimpered and protested the whole way.  The Indian husband found himself weirdly excited as he watched them force her.  Mosi opened up another beer for her and they made her drink that too. 

Finally, she had drained the dregs and complained to Munyambu that she felt she was going to throw up.  He warned her that if she did he would make her lap up the vomit.  She blanched at that and clamped her mouth hard with one hand.   And then they forced a fourth beer on her.  This one got her close to vomiting and her belly was becoming distended, but Munyambu was not finished with her.

By this time, Munyambu was ready for his blow job and Amala was drunk. She slurred her words and had all she could do not to fall down.  Munyambu made Amala kneel.  He dropped his trousers and shorts  and took his time.  He wanted it soft and sweet.  He made the inebriated woman give him a slow, wet blow job with her full lips and tongue loving his 60 year old black cock.  Gopal jerked off watching her take his load of hot cum.  Afterwards, Gopal was ashamed.  But, he got very aroused when the Chief Inspector made drunken Amala say things like, “I’m a dirty slut. I’m a whore.....I’m a cum slut.  I’m a dirty bhagat.”

After she’d freely confessed her sins and admitted that she was “dirty”, Munyambu made her bend over in front of everyone and taking the pot of curry paste, he got some on two fingers. 

“Spread your cheeks, dirty girl,” he told her laughing a little.

When she’d pulled her butt cheeks open wide for him he rubbed some of the hot paste into her pussy and then all around her clitoris before he went back to the pot and got more so he could anoint her anus and work some into her rectum.  When it began to burn, Amala began hopping up and down and doing a jig.  This cracked the men up.  Holding her butt cheeks, she begged for relief.  She wanted to go to the bathroom or the sink to get some water on her inflamed girl parts.  Munyambu wouldn’t let her.

Gopal was treated to the sight of Amala turned into a sexually abused, drunken clown... teased and tormented into babbling idiocy for everyone’s amusement.  He made her exercise....She had to do “squats”.   She had to go up and down, up and down, with her arms stretched out in front her with her inflamed crotch screaming for relief.  Still drunk, she fell over.  Finally, just sobbing and rolling around on the floor, he took pity on her and had Mosi fill a pot with water. 

Gopal watched her sit her fat butt on the small pot and splash water onto her reddened genitals and anus.  It was a humiliating climax for the day’s fun and games.  Later that night, with Amala snoring next to him, Gopal masturbated twice, furiously  reliving the day’s event.  There was nothing on the Internet to rival what he’d seen and experienced.

Spying on Mama

For several months thereafter,  Amala didn’t know what to say to her son.  And in the intervening months both mother and son felt they were in middle of an emotional tsunami.  Pallav had a new fantasy woman to replace, at least temporarily, the hot desi women he found on the Internet. He had begun to fantasize about his mother a lot.  And Amala, her world had cracked in two.  She had always presented herself to the world as a proper wife and mother. This was her essential self-image.  She now had this new self to contend with...

The realization that she was a highly-sexed woman who got sexually aroused when she was humiliated was slow in coming.  She alternated with being in denial to accepting herself and masturbating.  She would re-live some of her experiences and embroider some of them to accentuate the feelings they aroused.   The myths about the black man and his potent penis were not mythological when it came  to her experiences of rape and sodomy.  She used their memory constantly as stimulation for her masturbation.

Gopal was depressed with what had happened to them.  His world had collapsed.  The most extreme and degraded fantasies had been brought to life, in his own home; and he had been forced to participate.  He worried that he and his family could be exposed.  Munyambu could turn up his blackmail demands.  He now knew that the Chief Inspector was a cruel sick man who had trapped them all like a cat captures a mouse and then plays with it.

Amala was also very concerned for Pallav.  She was her only child and she doted on him.  She loved him and was conflicted by what had happened, but she was of several minds.  On one hand, she was ashamed by what she’d been forced to do in

front of him. And she worried about what sort of impact all of this had on him.  After all he was just a teen with the raging hormones of youth and not really psychologically equipped to deal with such heavy fare.

She had deeply affectionate feelings for him....feelings that were traditional and normal but tinged as they are in so many adults when it comes to their own children.  After all, she could appreciate her son as a male too, on some level.  And when all of this was shaken up by recent events, it was inevitable that she became mixed up.  This perhaps explains what happened next.

When Pallav would come home from school, he would dash to his room to play video games if he wasn’t hanging out with his friends.  Or surf for porn... Then there was homework and education was very important in their family, as it was in so many of their background.  Her husband wouldn’t come home from the dairy, which was 44 kilometers from their house, before 6 or 7 o’clock.  So mother and son were often together in the house with just the maid for three or four hours.  Before the Chief Inspector had entered their lives, this made for normal interaction between them.  Lately, he had been avoiding her.  They had barely talked since that first incident and none at all after several visits from Kamau and Zuberi. 

So, Amala began to come to Pallav’s room and try and engage him in conversation.  She would ask about school and things like that.  She gently tried to steer the conversation around to what had happened and how he felt about it.   She tried to draw him out by telling him her feelings.  The first two times she tried to do that, she could see that he didn’t want to talk about “that”. 

But the next time she brought it up, he blurted out, “I can’t talk about that ... I’m having a hard time with it.”

“Well what do you feel?”

“.....well.... you ...how you behaved.....”

“How I behaved? Are you disappointed in me, Pallav,” she asked him?

“I mean.....it’s hard to see your mother in that....you know....that way....”

“But you know I’m human....and anybody can be forced to experience things if they’re made to do bad things....right?”

“Well....yeah....but not feelings like that,” he said raising his eyebrows for effect. 

What he meant, of course, is that not every mother cums from rough sex with strange men with her husband watching.  Amala knew perfectly well what he meant, and reached over to tousle his hair affectionately....

“I know it’s hard to understand.  This has been very hard for me too.  This has forced me to deal with things I didn’t know about myself.  But, you can try and understand that....can’t you?”

“I’m trying Mama....I’m trying,” he said, softening a bit. 

A few days later she was at the market and when she came back she looked for Pallav.  Finding his door closed she knocked and when she was admitted, he acted very nervous.  What he had been doing was masturbating.   He had gone to the laundry room and fetched a pair of her soiled panties from the dirty clothes hamper.   He had gotten himself back together when his mother walked in his room, but in his haste the panties were still sitting on the nightstand.  Amala looked over and noticed them.  She walked over and picked them up. She held them up with a questioning look.  He blushed noticeably.  He didn’t know what to say. 

There they were accusing him.......a pair of beige silk panties with lace along the leg openings and the waistband.  He had gone looking for them.  When he found what he was looking for, he turned them inside out to get a better look at a crusty patch in the crotch.  He brought them up to his nose and sniffed.  The odor of her womanhood was intoxicating.  He felt lightheaded; and took them to his room.  He had gotten an erection.   He pulled down his pants and shorts and sniffing them.... began to play with himself.  A few moments later his mother showed up.  He had been caught red-handed.

Amala wisely chose not to scold him.  After all, what boy in his shoes could not be expected to do such a thing, even if it was wrong.  But Amala used the situation as an opportunity to get him to talk to her.  And it became the first real conversation they both needed that enabled them to deal with their feelings.  At one point, Mama gently asked him how many times a week he masturbated.  He stammered and tried to avoid the question.  

She pointed out to him that it was normal for a boy to masturbate, but that he should not do it to excess.  And as soon as she said it she realized that her moral high ground as his mother in regards to this issue had been severely compromised.

The expression on his face when she said it told the whole tale.  His look said, ‘how can you tell me how much is enough....when you apparently cum all the time.’  This stopped the conversation cold. 

But then Amala, who was still holding her panties, said, “but you think about me sometimes when you.......”

And this stopped Pallav cold.  It was obvious that’s why the panties were there and not where they were supposed to be.

“It’s OK, sweetie....It’s.....uh....it’s OK,” said and stood up.  She leaned over and kissed him on the forehead.

“I know you’ve seen me doing bad things....very bad things.  I just want you to love me.  I don’t want you to turn away from me.”

There were tears in her eyes when she left.  She went to her room and closed the door, sat down at her make-up table, rubbed her eyes and stared at herself in the mirror.  She was feeling that avalanche’ of emotions again. Suddenly..... on impulse..... she got up,  pulled her hair to the front leaving her back bare.   She was wearing a dark brown lehenga (long skirt) and a beige-colored bra to match her pale yellow choli (midriff hugging blouse). 

She reached down and pulled off her choli, then  pulled up her skirt and pulled down her panties.  She lay down on the bed and began playing with herself.  She pulled her bra up exposing her tits.  She was soon  masturbating.  Pallav came to the master bedroom.  The door was slightly ajar.   He peeked in.

Standing there, he could see her breasts out of her bra, the dark nipples and areolas visible.   The sight gave him a nuuz - a hard and hot erection.  She had one of her tits cradled in her left hand.  She had begun to perspire and there was a flush on her upper chest.  The quick glimpse gave the boy a throbbing erection.  He stared at her reflected in the bedroom mirror.  He realized how attractive she was with her round face, very full dark lips and small nose.  Her hair was black, thick and full.  Her hips were wide and her skin was the color of coffee with cream and her tits were big and full.

His eyes went wide as her breasts bobbed and swayed on her chest and her nipples stood out - looking as big as cashew nuts. The areolas were dark brown, almost black and Pallav could see the raised pebbly surface.  She had her right hand in her

crotch and she was rubbing herself feverishly.  Pallav reached down to grab the nala (trouser cord) on his workout pants.  He pulled on the knot and got it open....then let them drop and his prick, fully erect, showed in his white jockey shorts.  Pallav’s blood was rushing into his brain and penis so fast he felt dizzy, as the bulge in his shorts showed his state of arousal. 

He pulled his shorts down and pulled his penis free.  He spread the seeping wetness, his pre-cum, all over the cock-head.  Pallav’s mind and hormones couldn't keep up.  He began masturbating himself slowly and teasingly.  Watching his Mama made him leak so much, that when he finally jerked him off and came, Pallav thought his soul had come thru his penis.  He spurted everywhere.  He had to clean it up quickly; and then he dashed back to his room.  It was just after 4pm and his father wouldn’t be home for two or three more hours.  Plenty of time for him to get busy with something else to get his mind off his mother.   Amala, after she’d cum, got herself together and went to oversee Mchumba, in getting the dinner ready. 

Incest

Two months  later, Munyambu was in the neighborhood and came by unannounced just after lunch.  Actually, he was just looking for a diversion and a drink.  He didn’t even force Amala to have sex with him.  He had her pour him something to drink and they talked, just sitting there in the kitchen.  Pallav meanwhile, came home from school an hour early.  He locked his bedroom door and lay down on the bed. He hadn’t even said “hello” to his mother who he knew would have been home at that time.  But the boy saw the black lorry parked in front of the house and knew it was either the Chief Inspector, Kamau, Zuberi or all three.

Somehow, that day, he wanted to avoid them.  In truth, they frightened him.  At one point, Munyambu jerked his head toward the hallway and said, “the boy’s home, isn’t he?”

“Probably. I think I heard him come in the front way.”

“Come with me,” he said to her abruptly.

When they got to the boy’s room, he opened the door and surprised Pallav, who was working on his computer.  He was surfing the net for porn.  He was shocked, angered and embarrassed as the older black man barged in.... trailing his Mother..... coming into his room un-announced and un-invited.

“What do you want,” he asked brusquely?

“Whoa, easy, squire....I just wanted to see how you’re doing,” Munyambu said somewhat hypocritically.

“Yeah, right,”

“Look, I’m on your side, boy.”

Pallav looked at him...sullen.

“I’ll prove it to you.  Amala, take everything off but your panties....”

“Oh....not again.....please, not today,” she begged.

Munyambu answered that by making a little impatient motion with his hand that said, ‘get busy or else.’

Pallav, since he was feeling anger, wanted to tell the older man to fuck off, but when Munyambu told his mother to strip, the boy ....wanting on a deeper level to see his Mama naked again, just sat there.  He waited and wondered, ‘what Munyambu was going to make her do this time?’  He was curious and felt his penis stir in his shorts.  Amala, meanwhile, was forced to take off her clothes again in front of her son.  This was a violation each time. 

By the time she was down to her panties, she was sweating, nervous and embarrassed.  Pallav watched, trying to act nonchalant, but inside, he was seething.  She looked very sexy that day.  (In truth, she was ovulating and at a sexual peak.)  It was just a quiet Tuesday and Pallav was trying to find some porn on the Net to use for his afternoon masturbation, when the Chief Inspector showed up with his mother.  And here she was naked again for his appreciation.

And her nakedness was turning him on. There was just no way he couldn’t be aroused.   He was inflamed every time he saw her beautiful breasts. They were so big and heavy....and the nipples were so scandalously obscene...that he couldn’t help himself from getting turned-on.  Munyambu made her turn around and display herself to the boy.  Holding up her tits, squeezing the nipples, bending over to parade her thick-lipped sex and enticing dark, brown anus pressing up against the thin material of her panties.  Her pubic hair had grown back and could be seen through the thin gauzy crotch.

By the time that Munyambu got her on her back on the  bed to play with her pussy through her panties, Pallav was on fire.  His penis was straining against his white jockey shorts.  He had Amala masturbate, with her panties on, until she reached an orgasm.  Wetting the crotch when she came, she covered her eyes with one hand when it was done.  Pallav wanted both of them to leave so he could jerk off.  But the Chief Inspector had a “treat” for the boy that day.  And, in his mind, it was another cruel degradation for his Indian slave.

“Pallav....come here,” said Munyambu.

The boy got up as if he were in a trance.   His mother’s breasts looked so soft and warm.  Pallav wanted, at that point, to put his hands and then his mouth on her tits.  He saw himself feeling her tits .....touching and squeezing them.  He pictured his mouth on them - kissing and sucking them.  Munyambu saw that he had the boy right where he wanted him.  He lifted Amala’s right arm to expose her hairy armpit and guided the boy down to put his nose and mouth in her armpit.  Pallav groaned.  He got his nose right THERE.  Pallav responded to her body odors.  When he smelled her scent, he got hot and began moaning in her armpit. 

“Lie on your back,” Munyambu finally told the boy... patting the bed for emphasis.

He got the boy on the bed lying on his back with his prick hard as a rock in his shorts.  He made Amala pull down the boy’s sweat pants and shorts.  Now, the teen’s prick pointed up at the ceiling.  Then Munyambu instructed Amala to climb up on the bed and straddle her son with her crotch pressing against his groin.  Looking into his eyes, she sat on his erection and wiggled until the tip of his glans nestled between the folds of her pussy through the fabric.  Pallav felt like he was having an “out-of-body” experience.   His prick throbbed and twitched and he felt like he was going to cum.  He could feel her chut (pussy) even with the panties between them.  The wet crotch made the material feel even thinner.

Munyambu made her adjust her position so that his penis was in just the right spot.  Then, he ordered her to begin rubbing herself against him.  He had gotten them lined up so that the boy’s penis hit her clitoris each time she went up and down.  His prick was between her labia as much was possible with her panties still on.  Pallav’s face was flushed and he was now perspiring like mad, feeling his penis between the folds of his Mama’s pussy as she humped him slow and nasty, like a bhagat.   Munyambu stood close by and gave directions.  Pallav was in total body nirvana as his Mama, without being told to, began kissing his face and holding onto him as she dry humped him sexily.  

She whispered to him, “it’s ok, baby.  I love you.  I’m so sorry.  It’s ok sweetheart.”

She wiggled and rubbed up against him.  Her tits were right in his face and he couldn’t stop himself from reaching up and putting his hands on them.  Mama groaned when he did this, but he didn’t stop.  He squeezed them.  He touched her nipples and soon he put his mouth on them.  As Mama humped him and nursed on her teats, there was no way he could have kept himself from ejaculating at that point.  And, it happened spontaneously.... his hot lava jetted from his penis, like a fire hose to wet her panties and squirt all over their bellies. 

Amala groaned as she wet the hot wetness of his ejaculation all over her stomach.   It was so intense that as he came, he became lightheaded.   He groaned out loud over and over again as he spurted...  Less and less with each spasm but he groaned each time his penis jetted.  Mama wiggled involuntarily against him – giving him another thrill.  It was a very intense.  His Mama had behaved, against her will, like the dirtiest of bhagats indeed. 

“Oh, Mama, Oh Mama,”  Pallav kept saying feverishly.  It was very dirty and wrong, but Munyambu had orchestrated it beautifully. He had made Pallav, a mader-chod (motherfucker). 

Munyambu let them both enjoy the moment. He knew it would be brief before one or both of them recoiled.  It was Amala who did.  She got off Pallav abruptly, looking down at the shameful wetness on her belly and tits.  Her son was still in post coital bliss following his glorious orgasm.  The smell and feel of her tits lingered....and the deliciously wonderful feel of her plump “camel-toe” rubbing up against his penis had not completely evaporated for him.  But Munyambu had a finale in mind. 

He turned to Pallav and said, “well, you came, but how about your Mama?”

“What do you mean,” Pallav asked hesitantly?

“You came, but Mama didn’t.  Now, what you should do about that,” Munyambu asked slyly?

Pallav didn’t know what to say.  But, Amala began backing away.

“Don’t go anywhere,” Munyambu said to her.

“Pallav, stay right where you are.  Amala, straddle his head,” he said to her.

“OH....no....not that....that’s too gross.  Don’t make me do that,” she averred.

She continued to balk, but Munyambu took a pen from his pocket and held it up.

“Do you want to get the point again,” he asked her?

Amala groaned, remembering what he’d done to her once.  In the end, she threw her leg over Pallav’s face and instructed by Munyambu sat down on her son’s face.  He told the boy to lick her pussy and told her to “ride” him.  She had no choice.  Pallav entered sensory heaven.  What he had only purloined and sniffed in the past was now thrust on him in all its gustatory and olfactory glory.  His Mama sat on his face smothering him with her stinky pussy and asshole - RIGHT ON HIS FACE. 

Facing his feet, her anus was pressed against his nose. And with her legs straddling his head, her open vaginal mouth was right there for his mouth to kiss. He used his tongue to lick and lap her juicy pussy.  Munyambu made her use his nose, mouth and chin to masturbate herself.  Goaded by the Chief Inspector, she “rode” Pallav’s face, back and forth, back and forth, alternated with wiggling her ass until she came. 

And her “faucet” ran like it was broken.  She flooded her boy, making him gag and struggle to lap up her copious feminine secretions.  He was overwhelmed by her orgasm.  It was as if he was “inside” her body when she came.  Her smell, the taste of her and the warm, wet feel of her most precious, personal private parts were his to enjoy.  He mainlined her femininity, inoculated by Munyambu against responsibility or guilt.  And as Mama worked herself into a cum, Pallav jerked off at the same time.  After she came, he did too. 

Subsequently, Pallav enjoyed masturbating  and fantasizing about his mother all the time.  For years afterward, she was a sexual imago for him.  He would imagine himself forcing a woman to have sex or punishing her.  Occasionally, the “overseer” was a shadowy black or Asian who forced him and the woman to have sex.  He would eventually marry an Indian girl when he was thirty who was Mama’s spitting image.  The Chief Inspector’s sick handiwork left a deep imprint.

The Dog Trolley

“Get ready,” Munyambu ordered Amala. “I’ll have Gachie there in 15 minutes.”

He had told her to get herself ready for “movie duty”.  He and Peng had decided on a new video.  And it had all come together that afternoon.

“Right now,” she whined? 

“Get your ass ready....Right now. Gachie will be over in 15 minutes to pick you up,” Munyambu snapped at her.

It was a weekday afternoon and things were slow.  The Chief Inspector and Kamau had a long lunch with some businessmen who they had been shaking down and after lunch and many drinks, Kamau was feeling like he was ready for some “fun”. Munyambu was bored too.   When they left, he and Munyambu came up with an idea.  Mosi had been put in charge of making some improvements to the warehouse on Pate Road in the industrial area just north of Lunga Lunga Road.  And there was a crew of men from the jail on “furlough” to the Chief Inspector, and a couple of workmen who had been hired to do some painting.

“Simba’s got Gebhuza at the yard today.  Let’s bring Amala over and put her on that crazy trolley thing he built,” Kamau suggested. “Let’s try that out.”

“Hmmm....yeah.  Let’s call Peng and have him get his crew ready.  This will make a great video,” chorused Munyambu.  

Gachie picked them up....right on time.  Amala had checked her make-up and brushed her hair.  She told Pallav that she had to go.  He didn’t say anything.  He just went back to the program he was working on his computer.  Gachie wasn’t very communicative and the drive over to the warehouse was quiet.  As soon as it was clear where they were going, when they turned north onto Likoni Road from Mombasa, Amala began to get butterflies in her stomach.  They pulled up and saw several men painting the window frames. 

The men eyed her sullenly when she got out of the lorry.  Gachie escorted her into the building.  There had been some improvements.  The place looked cleaner, for one.  Peng and Chang were there with the crew setting up lights.   Presently, Munyambu and Kamau came out of the big office on the far right.  Gatura and old Mosi wandered over too.  Mosi was carrying a rolled up building diagram. 

Munyambu began, “Mosi, you can let those jailbirds and the painters in.  Gatura, take our star into the empty office for now.”

Gatura steered Amala and when she got in the office, he sat her down.  There were only two chairs in the small room but lots of file cabinets.  Amala looked around and wondered what they were going to do to her.  Gachie came in about 10 minutes later and told her to follow him.  When she stepped out of the office, she saw the crowd.  All the inmates from the jail there on a work detail....a dozen men were standing around.  And the three painters were there too. 

Gachie led Amala to the platform and made her get up on it.  Munyambu came out of his office and addressed the crowd.  He told them that Amala was their “star” and that he had a special treat for them.  Because they were all doing a good job, he was going to let them watch a porn movie being taped.  Amala gulped and tried to be brave. 

Peng came over and pointing to the stationary camera, told the operator to move it several feet.  Chang, the mobile cameraman, was right behind his boss with his equipment and the sound man had the boom mike all wired up and ready to go.  Han Shun was there also.  He was again dressed as a North Korean Colonel.....  flanked by three uniformed enlisted men.  All grinning as they looked on.....

Peng explained what they were going to tape that day.  He told her that she was again captured by the North Koreans and that they were going to be, “giving you attention.  So, just go with flow, Missy.”

Peng, turning to Shun said, “action.”

Amala licked her lips nervously.  She didn’t know what to do with her hands.  Shun came over and without a word, smacked her.  He slapped her face and began to yell at her in English. (This would be subtitled in Chinese on the tape.)

He yelled that she had better, “cooperate or else.” 

He ordered her to, “strip”.  Amala pulled off her choli and when she thought about simply dropping it, one of the enlisted men took her clothes.  It was very humiliating to be made to take off her clothes in front of so many strange men.  Amala could see the 15 or so black men beyond the lights looking at her.  Next, came her lehenga.  She pulled her slip down and stepped out of it next. 

Then she took off her bra and her panties.  The men stared at her as if she was a piece of meat.  It only grew more intense, especially when she was totally naked.  Standing there in only her shoes, she put her hands in front of her shaved crotch. It was still a huge violation to be naked.

Shun directed her to turn this way and that and hold up her tits.  Then spread her legs and pull open her pussy lips.  Then he had her bend over and pull her ass cheeks apart to show her anus.  He read off her height and weight, that she was married, with one child, her measurements, what type of birth control she was on, when she had her last period....everything!  It was like the video would expose everything about her to the viewers.  It made Amala flush.... hot and embarrassed. 

Then one of the privates brought over a stool and they made her sit down and spread her legs.

“Play with pussy,” she was told.

She had to use her fingers and rub her pussy.  Then she was told to play with her clit. 

Finally he said, “stick fingers into cunt.”

She knew she’d get wet.  The more she could feel the stares of the black men out beyond the lights....the more she played with her pussy....the more humiliated she felt and the more her “faucet”, as she herself called it, started to run.  Wet, squishy noises and “pussy farts” were soon heard.  There was a low murmur from the crowd and Kamau held up his hand to quiet them down.  Amala’s performance was having its effect.

“Cum,” she was commanded.

She began.  She ran a fingertip along the crease between her labia and legs and the creases between her buttocks and legs, inching closer towards her pussy.  The men got very quiet and watched mesmerized now.  She gave herself light caresses, delicate touches with her nails, then firmer, gliding finger-tip strokes.  She worked her clitoris...using the pads of her index and middle finger to rub it.  Then she went to using her middle and third finger together in an up-and-down and side-to-side, circular motion. 

She started slower then went faster - cycling slow-fast-slow-fast, with her fingers pressing down hard.  Sweating now, she ground her hips against her fingers and stuck two fingers on her left hand in her cunt hole.  Frigging herself harder and harder...she came.  She was moaning and then as she got closer to cumming - she

cried out.  Not every man had seen a woman masturbate, so this was a treat for the workmen.   A thousand Asian men who would purchase this video would be titillated by her routine too.

Afterwards, she was embarrassed and kept her eyes down. Shun told her to stand and two of the privates dashed off to get something.  Turning to someone in the crew, Peng, the director, asked if all was in readiness, and when he was told that there was to be a slight delay, he stopped production and Mosi escorted Amala back to the office.  The crowd groaned and booed.  Munyambu didn’t care about this.  He knew he had a real eye opener for them.  If Peng’s crew would just get their act together.  For instance, the still photographer had not captured Amala’s stripping and her masturbation at all.

“Kang,” Peng yelled....

“Coming boss,” the man replied.  He was a small young Chinese teenager....and he was pulling a little device.  It was a small wheeled bench..... a trolley. 

“Sorry, boss, we were just making sure the wheels could lock,” he said to Peng in Chinese, by way of explanation.

“OK....let’s get the show on the road,” Peng said impatiently. 

He conferred with Munyambu telling him that the crowd noise was a problem.

“You have to control them,” he said to the Chief Inspector.

“OK....don’t worry about that...You just do your job,” Munyambu said.

One of the Chinamen, playing a private, came in holding a plastic bag carefully in one hand.  The Chief Inspector turned toward the door that opened to the yard.

“Where’s Simba,” he asked no one in particular?

Someone quickly answered him, “He’s bringing the dog. He’ll be right here.”

Munyambu said to Gachie and said, “go get the slut.”

He trotted off and came back leading Amala.  She had a awkward rest in the office.  It was an uncomfortable interlude, with her standing there naked and self

conscious after having pleasured herself in front of 15 strange black men....and on camera!  The crowd, who had begun to drink from a couple of smuggled-in bottles had also begun to smoke.  When Amala re-appeared, they began to stomp, hoot and holler.  Munyambu raised his hands to quiet them down.

“I promised you a special show.  And now you’re going to get it.  First we’ll put our star on the “trolley”.  You’ll see why in a moment. When the camera is taping – KEEP QUIET.”

Peng, cued his crew and when he was sure they were ready, he yelled, “action.”

Shun and his men then took Amala by the elbows and got her up on the platform.  They made her bend over the trolley and lie down.  There was a hump on one end and when they got her lying down her tits were hanging down on either side of the narrow end of the hump and her hips and ass were elevated.  They bound her wrists and ankles to the sides of the “trolley” so it looked like she was riding it.  Kang made sure to lock the wheels, so the trolley wouldn’t move.  Amala started to sweat again. 

Shun knew that he would get some grease onto Amala’s pussy first.  Then he would cue Mingyu to wipe Amala’s pussy with the sponge he had in the plastic bag.  It was saturated with the juice from the vagina of a female bitch in heat.  Mingyu would be responsible for getting the juice all over Amala’s pussy.  Shun opened a can of white cooking grease and scooped out a dollop with two fingers. 

Shun advanced on Amala giving it his best Asian villain routine.  He rubbed the grease all over her pussy. And then stepped aside for Mingyu who had put on a rubber glove and took the sponge soaked with the bitch’s vaginal secretions.  Signaled by Peng, Mingyu anointed Amala’s pussy with the pungent discharge. Then the door to the yard opened and framed in the bright sunlight was a man wearing camouflage fatigues and a black ski mask, leading Gebhuza. 

It was Simba, made up to look like a mercenary.  The dog looked massive...and as soon as the men saw the animal they began standing and cheering.  Amala mounted on the “trolley” could not see behind her.  She was facing the wrong way.  The men watched Simba lead the dog over and they knew.  They were going to see a dog fuck an Indian woman. 

Amala swiveled her head from side-to-side, trying to see.  As Simba got closer and the dog smelled the bitch’s slime on her pussy, it began barking.  This was the first indication as to what she was facing.  Very quickly, Simba paraded the dog around the platform.  It was not an easy task.  The dog smelled “bitch-in-estrus” and that meant a hot mating.  Simba had to keep pulling the dog by the choke collar.  As he led the dog around the platform, it barked and pulled against the leash.  Amala stared at the dog in sheer terror and shock.....

Kamau raised his arms and got the men in the audience to sit down.  The mob, excited by the prospect of what was to come, slowly got back into their chairs.  Amala began pleading, but no one was listening to her.  After having gone all the way around the raised platform, Simba brought the dog to a spot about two meters behind the trolley.  Shun told Amala the dog was going to fuck her.  She stared horrified and then began screaming and crying. 

No acting on her part.  She was in shock.  Simba let the dog get closer to Amala to smell her; and the dog went wild.  He had to use the choke collar to control the animal.  He did this several times.  The idea was to “tease” the dog and this made its balls produce even more semen.  If it was not allowed to mount her right away, it’s testicles would load up.

So, when Gebhuza lunged forward to try and mount Amala, Simba pulled the animal off her before its cock penetrated her.  The dog’s cock had dropped and some of the men in the audience pointed, and talked excitedly among themselves.    Simba let the dog get close three times before he let it stick its nose in her crack to sniff her.  This got Gebhuza really crazy.  It got its big, black, wet nose right THERE and Amala gasped.  Then, its big, pink, paintbrush of a tongue began lapping at her smelly, wet cunt.  And to her shame – it felt GOOD!  They got some of this on camera and the still photographer got some great shots too.  Simba pulled the beast back the final time.

It’s cock was now fully erect. It had emerged from its sheath and protruded obscenely.  It was bright red and mottled purple with veins bulging and already drooling slime.  21 centimeters long and thick, with a knot that was as big as two figs.  Chang got in real close with the hand-held to grab close-ups of the dog’s monstrous cock.   Amala kept swiveling her head around to look.   One part of her wanted to blot it all out...and another part wanted to see the monstrous penis. 

She caught a glimpse of the cock spurting little geysers of pre-cum and gasped.  She had nothing in her experience that could have ever prepared her for this...She began to beg and plead for this ordeal to be spared her, but it was hopeless. Mingyu was in the shot.... on the far side of the trolley.   He had a birds-eye view.  He was excited as a young monkey.  Kamau stood with Munyambu enjoying what they had put together.  All in a day’s work, as the Chief Inspector would say. 

Finally they let the dog mount her.  As Gebhuza was positioned behind her hips again, and then released, it jumped on Amala’s back.  Its front paws awkwardly grasped at her ribcage and then slid back to hug her hips.  Then it began to hump its hips trying to get its cock in her hole.  The dog’s knot, at the base of the shaft looked big and some men wondered aloud if she could take it.  But, as soon as the dog found her hole with the tip of its cock, it drove it in.  Amala cried out as the dog’s cock entered her. And then the dog drove in and out of her like a demon. 

The dog convulsively hugged her close to itself and slobbered.... it’s drool splattered her back.  The animal never stopped its spastic, raging thrusting in and out.  It was an obscene parody of human sex.  Poor Amala was now dripping with sweat.... from her face, neck and underarms - even her back got wet as the dog fucked her mercilessly.  It fucked her like a demented machine.  Chang stayed in close catching the dog’s cock like a high speed piston in a cartoon....going in and out like crazy..... and her pussy being pounded.... and then he cut to her face for her reactions.

The beast’s knot grew bigger.  It had been bumping up against her pussy.... crowding her hole.  The actors edged in closer to look at the knot as it was right at her vaginal opening.  Simba had moved in closer on the far side to see it close up too.  It looked gigantic now and as the animal, following its instincts, kept struggling to get the knot into her vagina, the  stretching pressure on the sphincter made Amala grunt and groan like an animal herself.  The knot now looked as big as two large lemons at the base of the ugly shaft.  

Finally, it popped inside; and Amala howled.  The mouth of her vagina had been stretched like she was giving birth.  One minute the big knot was outside her shaved pussy and then, it was inside.  Those who thought that her vagina wouldn’t take the knot watched in awe. Money changed hands; some men had bet she wouldn’t be able to take it.  Fully inside her now, Amala soon began crying out louder and louder as it pressed on her G-spot and urethral sponge in the most insistent, demanding way. 

It was all the way inside her sheath stretching the pocket with the tip pressed right up against the epicenter.    She was soon crying out like a mad woman.   The knot, now fully inside, filled her, and the tip spurted hot cum incessantly.  It’s cum hotter than a man’s.  The shaft pulsed and vibrated since the dog had stopped humping.

Gebhuza just stood still as its cock spurted and throbbed inside her.   Amala felt the hot tickle of an approaching orgasm.  As the dog’s cock vibrated and jetted hot cum, her whole pelvis seemed to convulse and contract.  Her vaginal muscles involuntarily squeezed the dog’s cock and she came so hard she almost passed out.  Her cries went up two octaves when she came.   The scene, while sickening, was too hot for words...

The knot, at times, almost seemed like it was trying to come out.  But it was in too deep and it was too big.  Then when she squeezed her vagina, the knot was pulled in a little deeper.  This put a lot of pressure and friction on front wall of her vagina and she kept having one orgasm after another.  The animal’s cock kept spurting HOT, WATERY, BESTIAL CUM deep in her hole .  Its organ and its semen were much hotter than a man’s.  Throbbing and squirting..... it was the maximum fuck tool to keep a human female having multiple orgasms. 

Her sexhole had become a volcano.  The knot held the hot cum inside her and pressed devilishly on the front wall of her vagina. And unlike a man, the dog sprayed and jetted hot cum continuously. The knot kept them locked and she kept cumming  - over and over again.  She had continuous orgasms for 10 minutes.  The men sat there drinking and smoking and enjoying the show while she was mounted and had her orgasms.   And all captured on tape.  Her body shook and writhed on the trolley providing clear evidence that she was “fuck happy”.  It was so intense, she almost fainted. 

Seeing her facial expressions, listening to her uncontrollable shrieking was great for the tape. Amala had been degraded to the level of “dog fucker”.  No lower debasement could be imagined.   When Amala stopped cumming, she felt the dog pull back.  This hurt as the knot was well embedded in her hole, just behind her pubic bone.  Then, to the men’s surprise and pleasure, with the animal “tied” to her, the dog quickly spun around so that it was now facing away from her but still joined.  The men reacted to this and Kamau had to raise his arms again to quiet them down. 

Kang came forward and released the brakes on the trolley’s wheels.  The dog began moving which pulled Amala along mounted on the trolley.  It was an obscene spectacle....Gebhuza lurched this way and that....pulling Amala along by its cock and knot embedded in her pussy.   Some of the men in the audience called the dog trying to get it to move even more.  The horror of a woman being pulled along like that tied to a dog by its cock around the platform with men cheering..... Chang got the whole thing on tape.  Simba got in front of the dog and called to it,

encouraging and leading the animal all around the platform.  Amala moaned like a sick cow as she was towed. I t was a thoroughly indecent exhibition.  Eventually, the knot shrank, the dog’s dick came out and the show was basically over. 

Gebhuza’s cock was still impressively engorged.  Now the colossal, hideous thing which had been inside Amala could be seen.  The whole grotesque, ugly thing had been in Amala’s vagina.  Men marveled at its size and shape.  Chang moved in close to catch a final shot. The dog stood there for a moment, then bent down and licked itself.  Simba snapped a lead onto the dog’s collar and lead the animal away.

Still  bound to the trolley ...Amala panted like a dog herself. 

She was wet, sticky and sloppy everywhere from her lower belly down her thighs and all between her ass cheeks.  Semen and her secretions oozed from her hole and ran down her thighs or dripped to the platform.  Her hole, now that Gebhuza’s cock was gone, was open, red and swollen.  Shun put a bowl down to catch the  slop as it drained out of her sex-hole.

Kang and Mingyu supervised her release from the trolley and then Shun made her kneel with her hands behind her head.  She was shaky and trembling but he got her to open her mouth.  He made her drink what was in the bowl....a half cup of clotted slime,  as an extra added attraction.  The scene came to an end.  Munyambu then made an announcement.  Anyone who wanted a blow job from the “star” could have one for cash.  He held up ten fingers indicating 1000 Kenyan shillings.  Eleven men shuffled forward holding fistfuls of paper.

Kamau kept Amala on her knees and she obediently sucked off each man in turn. Chang shot the whole scene as a bonus tape.  Mingyu came over to watch the Indian mother as she kissed, licked and sucked each man’s straining black erection.  She did it dutifully.  Some she just sucked and others face fucked her.  But each man got to ejaculate in her mouth.  She had to swallow it all, of course. 

It was only then that she was permitted to dress so Gachie could take her home.  The afternoon’s fun and games had only taken 3 ½ hours.  Gopal at dinner later that night would wonder why she was so tired.  She excused herself and went to bed early.  Pallav kept his mouth shut and didn’t say anything.  He had already jerked off once that day thinking about what they might have done to his mother and would masturbate two more times before he fell asleep later that night....After all what boy’s mama performs like a kutti (A woman who behaves like a female dog in heat.) in porn videos?

Dr. Omondi

Chief Inspector Munyambu made a decision about a year after he’d first snared Amala.  She  had begun to bore him.  She was earning  money for him, but he had grown restless.  His plan was to have his crew impregnate her.  He was motivated mostly by a desire to impose a final humiliation on Gopal. The humiliation they would both suffer when their families and friends discovered that Amala had given birth to a black baby would be priceless. She would be totally devastated. 

Amala was a fairly dark-skinned Indian woman and had striven to marry “light”.  She was very color conscious and had always dated men lighter than she.  Gopal she selected as a mate because he was such a light-skinned Brahmin.  She was pleased when Pallav turned out so light and bright. For her to bear a black child would be the most severe humiliation.  The social ostracism and personal shame she’d suffer would be enormous. 

Munyambu broke the news to Amala in her home.  He told her what he had decided, what he expected of her and how it would all go down.  He told her he would schedule an appointment for her to go to “his doctor” to remove her IUD.  Then she would have her ovulation cycle charted and when she was at a peak to become pregnant, she would make herself available for a “breeding party”.  Then and there, his crew would fuck her silly.  Gopal would have to be available too to act as her “second”.  She would have to carry the baby to term knowing all through the pregnancy that she was carrying a black child.  She would be expected to deliver a healthy baby.  He also expected the couple to raise the child as they raised Pallav.  

Munyambu knew he’d be able to sell her ass when she was pregnant to everyone he was selling her too now anyway.  Whether it was a soldier at the base, cops or wealthy foreigners, a pregnant Indian woman would actually command a premium.  This meant he wouldn’t lose any revenue.  The more he thought about it, the more he realized that when she was lactating would prove to be a bounty too.  A nursing mother would fetch plenty of cash from Middle Eastern and European customers in particular.  So, he told her what she had to do.  He explained that he wanted her to report to Dr. Omondi at a certain clinic.  When Amala got the news and digested it.... she began sobbing.

“Oh God, you can’t be serious,” she said.  A BABY.....I’d have a black baby...”

The look of horror on her face brought a warm feeling to the Chief Inspector. 

“Yes, you will.  A second child will be good for you.  You’re healthy and one more before you’re forty is good.”

“But, it’ll be .....b...black,” she stuttered. “I can’t.....I CAN’T!”

“Yes,  it will and you will,” he said, suppressing a smile.

His casual indifference actually masked his enormous pleasure at forcing this on her.  Amala shuddered and sobbed some more.  Gopal was so stunned that he called the Chief Inspector.  He started to beg, but Munyambu cut him short.

“This is the final payment on your debt,” he said.

Gopal asked if this were really the truth.

“Yes,” answered Munyambu. 

Gopal could only hope and pray that the Chief Inspector was letting him go finally.  But what a price to pay!  Amala would have to go and see the doctor who ran a clinic.  She cried for days, but in the end, she went.  She was grateful that Corporal Mosi picked her up and took her to there.  When they went inside, it was busy and crowded.  Poor black women, squalling babies and kids were everywhere.  Mosi smiled and told her to sit down.  There was nowhere to sit.  Amala dressed as Munyambu had specifically told her to:  Western clothes.... the shortest skirt and the tightest most revealing blouse.  She clutched at her exposed throat unconsciously. She felt very vulnerable.

Mosi came back with a medium tall, skinny man wearing glasses.  He was middle-aged and wore a rumpled, soiled white coat.  He was smoking a cigarette and had a stethoscope hanging around his neck.  He had one crooked eye and was a most disturbing sight to Amala because he looked like a baggage handler at the airport....

“Ah....yes....from Chief Inspector Munyambu,” he leered at her, smiling as he realized who and what she was.....  “Well, go to room 5....down the hallway,” he said pointing, “and get undressed.  I’ll be in soon.”

Mosi stayed put and grinning at her plight.... pointed down the hallway to Amala.  She gulped and started walking.  The door was closed and she grabbed the handle, turned it and went inside.  There was a gynecologist table with stirrups and an overhead light.  A tray sat on a metal pedestal next to the table.  There was a cabinet on the wall to her right and a small sink on the opposite wall.  A series of hooks on the wall told her where she would be able to hang her clothing.  Amala was filled with anxiety and embarrassment.  She was afraid that the examination would be unpleasant and humiliating. The whole experience felt bad....at that point and the exam hadn’t even begun.  There was no chair.  She wanted to sit down and wait for the doctor, but with no chair she just stood there stupidly.  She kept shifting from one foot to another.  Finally, the door opened and Dr. Omondi came in.  There was no nurse with him.  Amala had always been used to her own doctor, a man, being accompanied by a nurse.  

“I’m going to have to do a thorough exam.  It’ll be somewhat....um.... ‘invasive’.  You understand, don’t you,” he asked her peremptorily?  “It will be a little painful at times....but, that’s how it is,” he said unsympathetically.

Amala didn’t even nod.  She felt sick.  He was still smoking a cigarette, which as she watched, he dropped to the floor and crushed with the toe of his shoe. She noticed that his shoes were scuffed and worn.

“Take off all your clothes,” he said to her brusquely.

Amala felt like a bug getting ready to be pinned to a board and examined.  There was no screen so she had to disrobe in front of him.  He had left the door partially open and when she asked about that, he brushed off her concern.  She began to take off her clothing.  He stared at her, like no medical professional had ever done.  He made a comment that she was dressed, “a little slutty, like a ‘whore’.” Amala felt like she was going to cry.

Munyambu made her wear what she had on.... He took her clothes as she stripped and hung them on the wall hooks.  Amala was wearing no stockings but when she got down to her shoes, he told her to take those off too.  As she stood there with her arms by her sides, she had to stifle the urge to cover herself.  She felt so naked.  He looked her up and down as if she were a piece of meat. 

“You have big tits,” he said to her.  “And you’re hairy,” he said chuckling.

Amala felt very violated.  He instructed her to get up on the table.  Amala did so feeling very awkward.  When she was lying down, he made a little motion with his hand that she should get her legs up in the stirrups.  Amala inwardly groaned because as soon as she did, her whole genital/anal area was exposed to him.

He then went around the table and began strapping her down.  Amala looked up at him alarmed.  She tried to protest, but he silenced her by telling her that it was “regulations”....to prevent a patient from “falling off”.  Amala was not reassured.  She was suffering.  Once she was secured (he had buckled leather straps around her wrists, ankles, above her knees and her waist) she was dismayed when he opened the door. 

It had been open just a crack, but now he threw it open all the way.   Her privacy, her dignity as a woman was of no meaning to him and by this gesture, he was showing her how he felt.  The foot of the table faced the doorway and there was a steady stream of traffic going by.  Without even coming into the room, anyone who passed by could see Amala’s vagina and anus.

“You’ll excuse me....I’ve got to make an important phone call,” he said and then quickly left. 

Amala groaned as she was now naked on the table with the door open.  Actually Doctor Omondi had mentioned to the cleaning men, the porters and the clinic’s handyman that he would be examining an Indian woman in room 5 about 2pm that day.  Soon, a steady stream of black men came trooping by.  Some just walked by slowly.  Others stopped and gaped.  Some made comments which Amala heard.  Amala felt like she was being raped.  Two older men actually came in and stared at her pussy, so vulnerably displayed.  Amala closed her eyes.  She knew it was pointless to say anything.....

The Doctor returned and went immediately to the cabinet.  He began pulling out a variety of stainless steel instruments. He brought them over to the tray next to where Amala lay.  As he stacked them there, she was filled with dread.  There were needles, speculums, probes, alligator clips, clamps and sounds of every size and description.  She wondered which of these he would use on her and she shuddered visibly.  Her sex organs lay open and defenseless between her thighs. 

It was then she notice the transformer perched on a shelf just below the tray to her right. He examined her breasts and made a comment about their size.  And then he took his time examining her nipples.  It was only after they had become erect that he concluded his examination of her mammary glands.  She was very embarrassed that they had gotten erect and he had made a comment about that too.

Next, he said something about the odor of her genitals and Amala experienced a moment of doubt and shame.  Every woman worries about that, but she had scrupulously showered that morning.  Then, he went to the cabinet and brought out a camera.  He began taking photos of her pussy and asshole.  When she asked him what he was doing, he said, “it’s confidential.”   Amala was left to wonder, ‘are they for his personal use?’ That thought sickened her....

Then he went over to the cabinet and got a small metal bowl and went to the sink and filled it with cold water.  He placed it on the tray.  Then he pulled on a pair of latex gloves and went down between her legs. He began to touch her there. He examined her external labia and then separated and pulled on her small sex lips.  He checked her urethra and her clitoris.  He inserted a finger into her vagina.

“You have  big one!  I’d say it’s been stretched some,” he said, rooting around and humiliating her even more.

Then he got up and retrieved the speculum.  It was one of the four-bladed kind and actually a size too big for Amala.  Her vagina was tight...partly due to fear and shame.  And after having been immersed in cold water for a bit, when he tried to insert it into her hole, it was hard going.  He sounded exasperated as he shoved it in.  Finally, Amala’s vaginal sphincter gave way and it sank in.  He kept pushing until he had it fully inserted.  Amala found herself groaning.  Then he opened it.

And that’s when Amala began yelping.  He ignored her cries and screwed it open as far as it would go.  He dilated her vagina completely.  It was far more open than was natural for her.  In fact, it would have been impossible for him to have opened her birth canal anymore without tearing her vaginal sheath.  He could have put his whole hand inside her....she was that open.  She panted like a dog too long in the sun.  And interspersed with the panting were her groans of utter, excruciating agony.

Finally her groans subsided into moans and whimpers.  Then he began rooting around looking at her cervix.  He hemmed and hawed as he worked.  He checked for the string ends of the IUD and couldn’t find them because they had been cut too short. (No use irritating a penis her gynecologist had decided, but with Amala’s encouragement too.)

Dr. Omondi could have removed the IUD without dilating her cervix, if the strings had not retracted into her uterus.  He would have been able to seize the strings and pull the IUD out at an angle.  But, he was as sadistic as Munyambu (which is partly why the Chief Inspector utilized his services).  Having to go inside her cervical canal would hurt her more.   He grunted to himself in satisfaction as he sterilized a sound to confirm the IUD was still inside.  Ignoring her cries, he dilated her with a probe and worked a pair of tweezers like clamps into her cervical canal.  Without anesthesia, Amala felt sharp pains and cramps that made her belly muscles ripple in agony.  Locating the IUD, he pulled it out.

“OK,” he said when it was done.

“OH GOD....OH  GOD....OH....THANK GOD,” Amala muttered ....feeling that this was worse than a root canal without Novocain.

Painful Procedures

“I have some more checking to do,” he said, worrying her anew.

He sterilized another sound and worked it into her urethra.  Amala squirmed in discomfort with the violation.  But he was not done.  He kept picking up thicker sounds and working them into her delicate piss tube.  Each time making her writhe in her bonds and cry out at the uncomfortable invasion. 

“We may have a problem here,” was all he said by way of explanation.

When Amala began begging him for more information, he just ignored her.  She looked up to see that a man, a workman of some sort, had wandered into the room and was standing just inside the door watching her being worked on.  She tried to protest, but as she began to say something, the man left.  The doctor finally picked up a corkscrew shaped device and as he held it up, Amala could see it.  It looked like a torture device more than one to be used in a medical procedure.  He bent over and began to work the tip into her stretched and sore urethra.  He twisted it, grunting with the exertion, until he had gotten it all the way in.....all the way to the entrance to her bladder. 

Feeling resistance there, he gave it another half turn and it popped thru the sphincter and went inside.  Amala groaned in pain.  Instantly her bladder began emptying.  The device was hollow and the doctor held up a small metal pan to catch her urine as it began to flow.  He pulled out a shelf on the front of the table and set the pan on it.  With the corkscrew shaped catheter in place, Amala continued to urinate involuntarily.  One of her bodily functions had been taken from her. Then, Dr. Omondi began to focus on her clitoris. 

“I see a big problem here,” he said as he pushed back the thick prepuce covering Amala’s large nubbin.

“What...what is it,” she asked nervously?

“Oh....it’s a problem, and if I don’t treat it today, it will become one.  It’ll be painful,” he said, not helpfully....

“Can I have some anesthesia,” Amala begged?

“Oh....there’s no one like that on duty here,” he said quickly.

He began to have some fun with her then.  He pulled back the clitoral hood with a pair of haemostatic forceps and then began scraping the shiny, sensitive surface of her clitoris with a probe.  Amala began squirming and writhing.  He went in under the hood, pushing and slipping the thin edge of the probe as if he was trying to release any adhesions he found there.  Soon, she was in agony. 

It was sheer misery as the thin membrane, which didn’t respond well to a lot of direct contact with a finger tip, was being chafed thoroughly.  He took his time and irritated the whole surface with the probe until it was RAW.   Following this, he dipped a cotton swab into rubbing alcohol and daubed and mopped the abraded bud, making her howl in anguish. 

“It’ll sting a bit, but you won’t have any infection,” he said, solicitously.

Amala couldn’t hear him.  Bound as she was to the table, she was humping her hips up and down and wiggling like a hooked fish.  Yelling and then making unintelligible sounds in her throat.  When the venomous sting had subsided somewhat, he removed the forceps allowing the hood to partially cover her sore clitoris.  But then, he used the forceps to clamp the clitoral shaft.  The forceps compressed her clitoris and Amala’s hips came up off the table again like she was trying to fuck.  She moaned in anguish.

“Last thing,” he said to her.  “Some electro therapy and you’ll be as good as new,” he said smiling at her.

Without another word, he attached an alligator clip to the forceps on her clitoris (it was the “positive” terminal) and another clip to one to her left labia (the “negative” terminal).  He went to the transformer on the shelf under the tray and powered the unit up.  When it was humming, and making Amala so nervous that she was afraid she would have a bowel movement, he twisted a dial to send current to her

genitals.  The shock was steady and became more excruciating in its intensity when he ratcheted it up to “6” on the dial.  It could be set at “10”.

When Amala’s crying became too loud, he got her panties and shoved them in her mouth as a gag.  He turned the knobs down and then added a pulsing effect to the current.  Amala twitched, drooled, throbbed and humped up and down like a madwoman.  Snot ran from her nose.  She jerked, shuddered, went into spasms and started convulsing when he turned it up to “8”. 

He electrocuted her for another minute and then cut the current.  He removed the catheter, pulled off the forceps and the clip on her labia.  Then he unbuckled the straps holding her on the table.  Amala, however, could not get up unaided.   She was “out-of-it”....and had to be helped.  In fact, he had to call in two nurses to hold her up and help her dress.  It was an extremely painful, humiliating and distressing experience. 

Breeding Session

Munyambu decided that Amala would be bred at the warehouse.   He had Mosi keeping track of her menstrual cycles with her peak ovulation times charted.  The plan was to have her be available when she was ovulating and Munyambu would have Kamau, Zuberi, Tembo (a black baggage handler who worked at the Nairobi airport.  He had an enormous dick and appeared in Peng’s videos.) Simba, Gatura, Gachie, Gacheru and Mosi, in that order, fuck her all throughout a two-day period.  The men would fuck her as many times as their sexual stamina permitted to try and inseminate her.  If she didn’t conceive, the session would be repeated when she was ovulating again. 

The Chief Inspector thought it would be amusing to get her pregnant with her husband in attendance.  He would be there as her “coach” and “towel boy”.  Wiping her down, helping her to close her legs after each copulation to trap the precious semen in her vagina so she could become pregnant.  ‘Amusing and humiliating,’ he thought to himself.  Having to explain the pregnancy to her son, her mother and father and her in-laws....the possibilities for humiliation were almost endless.

When she was ovulating, she had to report.  She had begged and so had Gopal.  But since he was unable or unwilling to part with any more cash, his wife would pay the ultimate price.   Mosi had put up an improvised sign that said, “The Bridal Suite”.  This he mounted over the door to the office that they’d set up for the

breeding session.  The little room contained a single steel spring bed, with a mattress....sheets, two pillows and a single, thin white cotton blanket. 

When Gopal arrived with Amala they were shown into one of the offices made up as the “waiting room”.  Gopal was sick.  He had never thought it would come to this, but Munyambu decided that this couple was extremely fun to humiliate.  He hated Sikhs and Indians and degrading the couple over the past two years had given him lots of pleasure.  The fact that Amala was so color conscious was perfect.  She came to the session like a calf to slaughter.  She had finally grown somewhat accepting of her role as a “slut”.   Frequent sexing by the Chief Inspector’s crew had callused her.

Gopal had been destroyed by what had happened to them.  His image of himself as a man, a husband and a father had been systemically obliterated.  In pieces and stages he had been turned into a cuckold and puppet.  Used for the amusement of a group of sick, corrupt men.  He would never be the same.  And Pallav had been imprinted, like a baby chick is imprinted by the first thing it sees after it emerges from the shell.  He would always be fascinated by the crueler forms of sex.

And attracted to women who bore a striking resemblance to his mother.  Munyambu had told Amala to present herself as if she was going to her “wedding”.  She did no such thing of course, but she did wear her best, sexiest lingerie and her hair and make-up were near perfect.  She even wore perfume.  When they sat there in the “waiting room” Corporal Mosi came by and even served them drinks. It was all very festive.  Then Munyambu showed up.

“Well, my dear....it’s time,” is all he said.  He took her by the hand and escorted her to the “Bridal Suite”.  Kamau was there .....grinning as usual.  He toasted her from a glass he was drinking from.  Amala kept her eyes down.  Gopal hung back, unsure of his role other than what the Chief Inspector had told him over the phone.

And then it began.  No videotaping, just a bed and a line-up of virile black men all eager to have their sperm be the seed that filled her belly.  Kamau went first and stripped her in front of her husband.  She looked sexy and fuckable as ovulation had put a gleam in her eyes and sheen in her hair. 

The big Sergeant got her naked on the bed and Amala defensively reached out to pull the sheet to cover her nakedness.  Kamau stripped and got into bed next to her.  He pulled the sheet from her and began fondling and even kissing her.  Gopal was as shocked at this as anything he had seen Kamau do to her.  Squeezing her tits, pinching and then kissing and sucking on her nipples, Kamau went about sexing

her as if they were a honeymoon couple.  He played with her until his dick was rampant and ready. 

And Amala was soon ready too.  Her “faucet”, as she called it, had begun running and she was soon wet....very wet.  Kamau presently was mounted.  He got inside her to the hilt and fucked her long and well.  He put it to her so that she could feel it in the deeper recesses of her vagina.  Soon, she began to grunt, moan and then cry out.  To Gopal as he watched Kamau sexing her, it was obvious that she was getting ready to cum.

It always broke his heart to hear and see her reach that wondrous place at the hands and cock of another man.  When her cries got louder and it was clear that she’d cum, Gopal closed his eyes and silently cursed Munyambu.  Soon, was obvious that Kamau was getting ready to cum too.  His black muscular buttocks clenched and tightened and he ejaculated with a loud groan, sending his seed deep into Amala’s vagina.

When he got off her, Gopal was “encouraged” to help his wife close her legs and pull them to her chest to trap the semen in her vagina.  He had to stay with her that way until the Chief Inspector told him that it was “OK” to let her relax.  Then was Zuberi’s turn.  He skipped the kissing part and when he was erect got his dick into her fucking her hard to push out Kamau’s ample deposit. 

He pushed her legs back and then got her ankles on his shoulder.  He pounded her relentlessly and when he came, he pulled out and Gopal was told to help the mother-to-be hold onto the precious cargo in her vagina.  It was very humiliating for husband and wife.  Amala took sip of tea and then was readied for the next man.

Tembo came into the room.  Gopal had not seen him before.  He blanched when the big man strode in and began taking off his clothes.  He was a big, blue-black man with a shaved head.  200 centimeters tall and 106 kilos.  But it was his dick that gave both husband and wife pause.  Tembo, a nickname, meant elephant in Swahili.  He truly had the equipment of a pachyderm. 

His dick was as thick as a beer bottle and it grew longer as he looked at Amala sprawled on the bed with a cunt full of semen.  It grew and grew until it was a full 24 centimeters long.  Amala groaned when he grabbed it and held it up to display it to her.  Before he mounted her he wanted her to see what he was going to use to push everyone’s else’s semen out and leave his deposit in her so that his baby would fill her womb.

He got her on her elbows and knees on the bed and got behind her.  Gopal grimaced as he watched the man work his mammoth cock into his wife’s vagina.  Tembo, at that point, pulled his dick all the way out and this made Amala whimper.  One minute she was stuffed like a goose and the next, her vagina was empty.  Holding it like a sword, he rubbed it up and down her open pussy. Then he worked it in again and began to fuck her…easy at first…then harder, holding her brown thighs in his big hands and thrusting in and out.  Gopal got embarrassed.  He got an erection but he couldn’t take his eyes away from what he was seeing.  He eyeballed the big dick going  in and out of his wife’s sex. 

Amala cried out, “OH GOD....OH GOD.....IT’S STRETCHING MY HOLE.”

When Tembo went particularly deep on one thrust, Amala’s voice, like an opera singer, went an octave higher.  She began to pant and hyperventilate.  His big balls, which hung down pendulous like a bull’s, swung back and forth like a metronome.  She groaned like he was killing her.   Gopal couldn't believe the sounds of pure lust and ecstasy coming out of his wife’s mouth.   Every few strokes, Tembo forced it all the way to bottom of her vagina and made her cry out. 

In-and-out – HARD – again and again.  It didn’t seem like it was going to fit inside.  Then somehow it went all the way back in.  Soon, everything....his dick, her pussy and her thighs and ass crack were wet and glistening with her vaginal secretions as she was juicing heavily on his elephant dick.  A ring of sloppy cream formed around the base of his dick.  Each time he pulled out, her labia seemed to grip the shaft.  Choked with lust, she was barely understandable. 

Her juices were smeared thick and nasty all over his dick.  It glistened in the fluorescent overhead lights.  Tembo pulled it out so just the head was inside. Then he fucked her with short quick strokes.  She grunted came and ejaculated.... squirting her juice to wet his balls.  Her husband could hear slurpy, wet sounds as the black man fucked her.  There was a growing puddle which had drooled from her vagina down onto the sheet.

Gopal could see her hole was stretched tight like a purple rubber band around his thick black dick.  On the in-stroke, his cock dragged her labia into the hole.  By now Amala was “fuck happy”.  Tembo kept pounding her.  The Indian husband could see the man’s black ass.... the big muscular cheeks clenching and relaxing.

He sexed her slow and deep for awhile…all the way to the bottom of her hole and her vagina clutched at him convulsively, each time.  Then he really pounded her for awhile.

She began to cry out:  a chorus of “uhs”, “ahs”, and “ohs” that got louder and louder until she was shrieking as she had a huge uterine-vaginal orgasm of epic proportions.  He soon came with a roar just after this...filling her sexhole with a really large load.  His balls went tight in their sack and his kinky pubic hair was mashed against her pussy.  He pulled out and made sure to push her thighs together to trap his seed.  Then Munyambu supervised getting her on her back to pull her legs up to her breasts and keep her thighs closed.   Gopal was given the job to help her.  He wiped her brow.  It had been a very powerful fucking.....

Simba was next and he wanted her on her back again.  His long dong, after Tembo’s, didn’t stretch her as much but fucking her skillfully, he made her cum.  Then Gatura, Gachie, Gacheru and Mosi.  The line of men were becoming a blur.  And after each man had taken his turn, they began again.  Breaks were taken to let Amala pee and take some nourishment, but Munyambu basically kept her on the bed with her legs spread. 

The men fucked her steadily for several hours, then fatigue and boredom set in and they would take a break for dinner, a smoke, a drink and even some cards.  Then one of them would get a notion and head back to the “Bridal Suite” to take another turn with her.  This went on for two days.  When it was over, Amala was exhausted.  She had been fucked more than forty times.  Filled to overflowing and beyond. 

And at one point, when Zuberi was fucking her and tender thoughts of impregnation permeated her foggy, fuck happy mind, Amala cried out, to no one in particular, but with words that would cut her husband to the quick, “OH GOD FUCK ME...FUCK ME....FUCK ME....FILL ME UP...STRETCH MY PUSSY.”

To Gopal it sounded like a woman whose raw female instincts had taken over.  A female animal craving the male seed to impregnate her and fill her belly.  It was one heart-breaking moment among many.  When Amala went home she slept for 14 hours.  She went to her doctor for a check-up afterwards.  And then she missed her period.  When Munyambu found out, he ordered her to go to Dr. Omondi - who confirmed Amala was very pregnant. 

The next few months were the easiest emotionally.  Oh, Amala grew sick in the third month in the mornings, but that was nothing compared to when she started to “show”.  Everyone, in-laws, her parents, her sister, her friends and her husband’s associates lavished her with congratulations and good wishes.  But Amala and her husband knew that in six months she would be faced with a terrible situation.  How black would the child be?  And if it were as black as Tembo, how would they explain it? 

Amala’s breasts grew as her pregnancy advanced.  She developed a dark “pregnancy line” down her tummy and her D cup tits grew to mammoth size.  She had to buy bras that were a size 38E.  And Kamau and Zuberi came over to fuck her as her belly grew.  Munyambu liked to come over and have her give him a blow job.  He even prostituted her during this time. There was a group of German businessmen, flower buyers, who came to town regularly to purchase Kenya’s top export, orchids. They were willing and able to pay  for a woman’s “hospitality”.  Munyambu brought Amala to the warehouse for a paying sex party one night. 

Gopal was also required to be in attendance for this grand performance.  The night was a wild affair.  He had Amala strip and then she was paraded (she was seven months pregnant at this point and her belly was very big) and displayed for the Germans in a kind of auction.  He announced her name, gave her measurements and had her sit down on a stool and spread her legs to show the Germans her velvety pink goods. 

Deeply shamed to be exhibited with her huge belly showing and feeling awkward and ugly, she balked and became resistive.  Following this, she was put on the “pony” to get her mind right and entertain the men.  After this she had to “dance” for them and as a grand finale.... masturbate for them. Then he let each of them fuck her on a gynecologist’s table.  Plenty of liquor flowed (the Germans were paying for it all) and Bruno, Frederich, Hans, Dolph and Gerhard had fun taking turns with her. 

Gopal, stripped to his jockey shorts, had to do duty as a bartender, waiter and towel boy.  The Germans were beside themselves as they watched Gopal humiliated at the Chief Inspector’s whim.  To see him treated like a cuckold was a show in itself.  When Gopal displeased Munyambu....some minor thing....he had him stripped and ball cuffs were put on him.  Then, they made him “duck walk”.  Following this, Gopal had to “clean” Amala’s pussy with his mouth.  He had to lap up all the cum the Germans had deposited.  

The debaucheries of the evening reached a high point when Bruno, the oldest, wanted to know if it were true that black men had huge cocks.  Munyambu pointed to Tembo.   Hans then asked if they could see his mammoth organ.  Tembo wasn’t shy about demonstrating his “superiority” to a white man.  When he whipped it out, the five Germans began clapping and yelling.  Well, it didn’t take long for them to implore Munyambu to let Tembo fuck the pregnant Indian woman while they watched and took pictures with their cameras.  Munyambu, feeling good about how the evening had gone, told Tembo to fuck her first in her vagina and then in her asshole.  It was very humiliating when she came twice in front of her husband.

The Cow

As her pregnancy came to a close, Amala was resigned to her fate.  She hoped for a healthy baby and the process of carrying the child for nine months bonded her to the fetus growing in her womb.  She delivered a healthy 3.8 kilo baby boy at Dr. Omondi’s clinic.  The nurses had fun with her.  On the gurney, there was a curtain draped over her just below her breasts so that she could not see her baby as it was born.  When the baby’s head crowned and the baby emerged the nurses could see the child’s color and began laughing. 

They came over to her side of the curtain and teased her unmercifully.  When they presented the baby to her, she saw how black it was, but her maternal instincts dominated and she took the baby lovingly in her arms.  Mother and child soon bonded.  Amala immediately began nursing the baby, whom she and Gopal had named Chand.  She wanted to name the baby Arjuna, the name of a son of Indra, but that name means “white” in Hindi and Gopal, being wiser and saner, prevailed.  And so they chose Chand.

When the baby was introduced to their respective families, everyone was so shocked that almost nothing was said, but tongues wagged and eyebrows went up.  Everyone wondered privately what had happened.  Both Gopal and Amala had made a pact to keep the actual facts of Chand’s birth a secret.  Pallav accepted it.  He was as shocked as anyone, but found the idea of having a brother appealing.  He also discovered that he loved the infant.  Munyambu was pleased too.  He loved the powerful feelings he got making the Indian couple suffer; and lost no time in devising new humiliations for them.

He found that selling Amala’s sexual services to his contacts in the police and military was now easier than ever.  A lactating female was a prize.  He brought her to the warehouse and put her on the auction block.  Forced to strip naked, Kamau

or Zuberi stood behind her as her measurements were being read off, and took her tits in hand. They squeezed them to make her milk spray.  The men went wild.  Amala was always stressed in particular in these situations as Munyambu would always order her to not feed Chand.  She would be expected to show up with her tits full of milk. 

Whatever the drill, by the time she went home her breasts were completely drained.  One time he made her bend over and Mosi “milked” her into a bucket.  If she produced a half liter of milk she would not be whipped with a tawse.  Constable Nyarai knelt behind her and played with her pussy to make her cum and every time she did, her tits sprayed their precious milk.  Amala wanted to keep her milk for Chand and these sessions were a torment.  She was turned into a “milk cow”.  When she was exhibited, they would milk her or make her spread her legs to show the velvety pink insides.  The men would clap, stomp their feet, yell and the bidding would reach astronomical numbers that brought a smile to Munyambu’s face. 

He and Peng put her, lactating, into a video.  The script idea was that she had been captured by the North Koreans.  The government was operating a restaurant in the capital of Pyongyang.  The gimmick was that the restaurant featured dishes made from “mother’s milk”.  Foreign visitors from China were paying handsomely for this exotic cuisine.  To ensure that the restaurant had sufficient supplies of raw, fresh milk, the military had conscripted nursing mothers for the task.  They had constructed a set in the warehouse to look like a “nursing stable”.   Basically it was a lighted enclosure with a bunk, a toilet, a basin and a stand where the “milk cow”....the nursing mother would be bound six to eight times a day to have her milk extracted.

They brought Amala to the warehouse.  She had been instructed not to nurse the baby all day.  She hated the idea of allowing these men to take her milk.  But her body betrayed her.  Her breasts were hugely engorged when she arrived since they hadn't been expressed for 12 hours.  She desperately wanted - indeed needed - someone or something to relieve the pressure and pain caused by the excess of  milk in her breasts.  She couldn’t have it both ways, and resigned herself to giving up her milk.

Peng had everything ready.  Shun was playing the “Colonel” again.  He and his men treated Amala as if it were her first day as a “cow”.  They made her strip.  Then they played with her sexually.  Because the brain plays such a large role in the release of hormones that produce milk, it’s normal for let-downs to occur in

other situations as well. When Shun began playing with Amala’s pussy - sexually stimulating her....she got very wet and her tits started spraying milk. The harness cradled her in a semi-bent over position with her tits hanging down. The crew played a recording of a baby crying  and this also caused a huge “let down” of her milk.  They put an electric breast pump on her engorged tits.  The machine was placed on a small table in front of her; and it had multiple pump speeds. Soon the milk bottles began to fill.

Amala had gone so long without expressing her milk that she could be kept on the pump for awhile.  Peng had the stationary camera mounted in front of her so that the sight of her tits being milked into the bottles was clearly visible. Here’s how her body responded to the machine:  The suckling stimulated the nerve endings in her nipples and areolas, which signaled the pituitary gland in her brain to release two hormones: prolactin and oxytocin.  The “happy hormones”!

Amala soon felt waves of warm pleasure as she was milked.  Peng had Chang, with the hand-held camera, moving around to film the machine pulling the milk from her titties, as well as her reactions.  The emotions that played on Amala’s expressive face, with her big, brown eyes and full lips, were worth catching.  She showed sexual pleasure, humiliation, anger, hurt, frustration and shame at her dripping, wet cunt, as she was treated like an animal and used as a sex slave. 

Shun kept coming in and out of the scene.  He played with her pussy, stroking her labia and rubbing her clitoris as this had two effects.  It made Amala squirm and writhe and the amount of milk that flowed from her teats seemed to dramatically increase.  The idea was that the “cow” was kept on the machine for many daily sessions to produce a required amount of milk. If she fell below “quota”, she would be “punished”.   Subjected to lots of hurtful, coercive things.  The tape would be a big seller in the Far East, where Peng had distribution connections.  Lots of men in China, Hong Kong, Singapore and Taiwan would find masturbatory delight watching a “milk cow”  being used and abused. 

In the first “session”, with her breasts so full, Amala produced a prodigious amount of milk – a half liter.  Shun praised and petted her like a prized animal.  Then he and his assistants made her suck their uncircumcised cocks filling her mouth and making sure she swallowed the semen....  her reward for a job well done.  Shun laughingly made a comment that lots of cum made for rich  milk.   The assistants all got a good laugh.  Following this, he masturbated her, first by rubbing her pissflaps and her clitoris, then by finger banging her G-Spot to make her cum.  This was also done to reward her for making “quota”. 

The still photographer got some great shots too.  Including some stop motion shots of milk spraying from Amala’s humongous tits.  Chang let the camera linger lovingly on her huge, dark brown, almost black areolas topped with nipples of an even darker shade....and the size of cashews.  Then Peng let the crew break for lunch.  Amala was taken to an office, given something to eat and lots to drink; then allowed to rest.  Two hours later they marched her back to the set for another session as a “cow”.  She was put into the harness again and this time milked manually by the four privates taking turns.  Two of them at a time... one on each tit; milking her into plastic buckets. 

 

They had been coached beforehand.  They used their thumbs, index and middle fingers to form a “C” around Amala’s areolas.  The pushed her breast towards her chest and then squeezed their fingers and thumbs together to roll the milk out. The script called for them, as teenaged soldiers, to have some fun with her and sneak some milk by nursing on her tits.  Amala found herself embarrassed as they bent down and began suckling on her.  Being raped was a terrible violation; but having her milk taken from her was abuse too. 

Being videotaped made it worse.  As the boys suckled on her breasts, they were stealing from her what was her baby’s.  It was the ultimate defilement of her motherhood.  And it was done with the idea of making her less than human - that she was a “cow”.  The suckling had stimulated a “let-down” response and Amala’s tits produced milk, but since her teats had been emptied only a short time before,  she didn’t meet “quota”.   Shun held up the buckets and began yelling at her. 

“You no make quota,” he said to her.

So, now it was time for “punishment”.  Peng and Shun had a one-page script outline that called for Shun to force things into her asshole, whip her buttocks and cane her feet.   Amala was taken off the harness.  The got her on the bunk on her hands and knees and Shun forced a thick rubber truncheon into her rectum.  He oiled it first and then dipped it in ground, hot red pepper.  Amala grunted and groaned as it was forced through both anal sphincters and then deep into her rectum.  He redrew it, oiled it again, coated it with more hot pepper and re-inserted it. 

He did this several times, admonishing her each time for failing to make “quota”.  Very quickly, the pepper started to burn and was soon replaced by a virulent itching.  After this, they tied her legs together and bent her over a barrel.  Shun beat her with a thick prison strap on her buttocks.  She was beaten until her

buttocks were two raw slabs.  Then they bound her ankles to a wooden pole and he beat the soles of her feet with a thin bamboo cane.  This was the dreaded Falaka.  She sobbed and screamed as this was real torture. She couldn’t walk when it was over. They spent the rest of the afternoon getting it all on tape, before the production finally wrapped.

Epilog

At one point, Munyambu made a present of the North Korean Brainwashing, Dog Trolley and Milk Cow videos to Pallav.  He knew the boy would want to see his mother in action.  He made sure to let Amala know about the gift too.  The Chief Inspector’s control over the family lasted until 2010 when he himself was finally indicted for corruption by the Anti-Corruption Commission.  Pallav was sent to the UK for college and his parents retreated into near seclusion following Chand’s birth.

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