My Neighbor- Ch. 13
“Nigeria. Great. Wonderful. I’ve landed. I’ve now been there, I’ve now seen that, and all I now need to do is buy a T-shirt and go back home.”
Those were my first thoughts as I landed, having traveled halfway around the world. All because some jerk with a big black cock ***** me, and somehow convinced some bureaucratic moron in the United States Department of State that he was willing to cooperate in exchange for his child being born in his native country, for full citizenship. But it was all bullshit. I managed to talk to an immigration attorney the day before I left. I learned that because I was a US citizen, and the baby’s father was a Nigerian citizen, the baby would have the benefit of dual citizenship. I was now sure that the only reason all these political games and maneuvering were played was that this black General with the prodigious black cock wanted to fuck me for the next several months.
I had to talk to someone because my husband and I were barely speaking to each other. He was barely speaking to me. I couldn’t blame him; he was just the victim of this as much as I was. Well, maybe not so much as I was. I was still being forced to carry the child of a black man who ***** me. But that black ****** had power over me, politically, and his cock had power over me, biologically. That cock of his destroyed me, and he spent that night making several attempts to put his baby in me. One of them succeeded, as he had fucked me stupid and made me say things that I now regret, even if they were true.
His cock had my vagina fit onto him like I was born to be his lover, as well as the mother of his children. He had told me that night that I would never get his cock out of my thoughts. He was right. I could not deny how amazing sex with him was, even as I was being ***** by him multiple times. I didn’t realize just how powerful sex was when he used it as a weapon, and I fell to the incessant string of orgasms his fucking me forced me to have. Despite the horrid look of the man, with his ugly, scarred face and incredibly flabby and out-of-shape physique, I could not deny that if he had come to me again while I was still at that resort that fateful trip, I would have to lay down and spread my legs for him. If he gave me that opportunity. He had been always rather eager, and never gave me a chance to move where I wanted, but he held me under him or in front of him as he sawed his long, thick black baby-maker in and out of my perfectly fitting, quivering and leaking pussy until my vagina was milking his shaft for every drop of his precious seed, helping ensure I was impregnated by him.
He made me say things I would never normally say. How much better of a lover he was, despite that his 300-pound or more flabby body was squashing me flat under him, or how much bigger of a cock he had than my husband, and how he fucked me better than my husband, and how I would forever want his cock inside me again and again. How I would become devoted to black cock, and black men, and I would become a slut for black men, and how I would have the child of any black man who gave me one. No matter how illicit, I would never abort a black baby. His cock had more than power over my body, but perhaps even my mind did. But never my heart, which is why I was so frustrated, forlorn, and bitchy when I stepped off the aircraft.
Looking about, I was instantly taken by how warm it was, as well as humid. But this was Lago, near the ocean. What ocean I didn’t know. What I did know was I was supposed to be met at the aircraft, and I wasn’t disappointed. A row of vehicles was there for me and my Nigerian military escorts, and baggage handlers took care of my luggage as I descended the stairs.
A man in a suit met me at the bottom of the stairs, and I was whisked off to the embassy in a shiny black Chevy Suburban, not unlike my truck. Following us were two Humvees and a bigger truck carrying more troops and paraphernalia. We were led by two more trucks, apparently belonging to the Nigerian Army, or whomever it was. No matter, they evidently belonged to the General, for my two escorts were warmly greeted after the obligatory salutes and other military protocols. Things I was used to describing as ‘military junk’. We arrived at the embassy, and I was led into an office, where I was handed an official United States Embassy ID and a few other things in a manila envelope.
“Mrs. Recreant, I am sure you are tired after your trip and perhaps hungry.” It was the man who greeted me on the plane.
“My name is Robert Wilson, and I am your liaison here in Lagos. If you need anything let me know. Somebody, somewhere in Washington has given me very clear instructions to see to your comfort and safety.”
Then he began a litany of things I needed to know but was in no shape to remember. I was tired, irritable, hungry, and sore, and I needed a bathroom. He showed me where to go, and as I exited, I realized that there was a US Marine standing guard, right outside the bathroom. He then began to follow me back. I even took a turn down a random hallway, and he kept following me, no matter where I went, four paces behind me. He was giving me the creeps. He was a very clean-cut Hispanic man, and after I got lost in the building, I had to stop and face him.
“Okay… I give up. Who are you and why are you following me?”
“Mrs. Recreant, my name is Corporal Garcia. I am assigned as your escort and security while you are on the embassy grounds.”
“Oh, I assure you, Garcia, I do not need to be followed. I am sure I am quite safe.”
“Ma’am, you are, and I pointed this out to the Gunny. But he does not care for my point of view on this, and since I am more afraid of him than I am of you, I am going to be your escort anywhere on the embassy grounds.”
His words were pretty final. Not mean or disrespectful, but he left me with no doubt that I was going to be shadowed. Probably until I was on board an aircraft and heading home. I sighed and realized I had better get used to it. While I was being played as a pawn in somebody’s stupid game of chess, I didn’t want to upset the apple cart of the people committed to keeping my ass alive and getting me home. While I wasn’t a military wife, I was married to a veteran, and so I had some idea of how things worked, and what was expected of me. So, to get along, I had to play along.
“Alright, Garcia, since I am lost, can you direct me back to where I am supposed to be?”
He never got in front of me the entire time I was his charge. His voice told me where to turn, and when and so on, and we got back in good time. Something told me he would be a Colonel or higher one day. Once I entered the room, he shut the door behind me and left me with good ol’ Robert Wilson.
“Okay, so Mrs. Recreant, let's go over these last couple of things and you will have the run of the grounds. The whole city if you want, and with prior authorization, you can explore the country. Of course, you will be escorted, as I see you have discovered your in-house escort. But even they have orders, and they will prevent you from visiting certain locations on your own.”
“What do you mean?”
“Well, there are certain places that you are forbidden to travel, due to threat advisories. Things like robbery, terrorist activity, acts of violence, kidnapping, and the like. The closest to us are the territories of Borno, Yobe, Kogi, and the Northern Alliances and they are only part of it. There are half a dozen more, that are Level IV and do not travel to areas. So don’t plan on exploring there, you won’t be going. Benin as a whole is relatively safe, with your escort. Without it, I give you less than an hour of freedom before someone grabs you and takes you, hostage. Keep that in mind. Nigeria is not a safe place for us. We were bolstered with a dozen additional US Marines as part of our security detachment, and you come with your Platoon on top of that. Some of those are part of your medical escort as well. We have everything you need for your child’s delivery, and you will get regular pre-natal check-ups and dietary support. Frankly, Mrs. Recreant, you will get better care here than at home.”
“Ok… first, please stop calling me Mrs. Recreant. I don’t answer to that, and if you can scream it at the top of your lungs, I probably won’t recognize you are calling me. My name is Suzi. It is okay to spread that around. Especially with the Marines.”
He snorted at that last comment.
“You can try… but I doubt you will have much success. Go ahead and try if you like?” Then he raised his voice a bit. “Garcia!”
The door opened and in came my dutiful and dedicated, sworn to sacrifice his life for mine, escort.
“Yessir! How may I help you, Sir?”
“Mrs. Recreant wishes you and your fellow Marines to call her Suzi.”
He looked at me, and without making an expression, replied to the both of us.
“No. Will there be anything else, Sir?”
“No, thanks, Garcia, just had to make a point.”
“I understand Sir, thank you.”
And just like that, he disappeared, softly closing the door in whatever manner the Marine Corps taught him. I just sighed.
“It’s not that bad. You do get used to it, and from what I am told, they are super-dedicated and diligent. You will be quite safe with them around.”
“Yeah, but inside the building?”
He smiled.
“Suzi… just get used to it. You can’t fight them all yourself. Besides, you will have a bigger battle to fight in a few months. So, let’s get you some dinner and Garcia will show you to your quarters.”
The dining room was quite nice, and I learned there was a dining hall below us, that was where the military and most staff ate. I ate next to the Ambassador and his staff and of course my escort. Garcia was a perfect gentleman with me, helping me get seated, standing when I rose, following me everywhere, and keeping me from getting lost. My bedroom was decent, too, with a twin bed, a TV, and furniture for my meager belongings. I also had a private bathroom, which I learned was a rare commodity, but one afforded me due to my pregnancy. While I didn’t have a window to look outside, I was otherwise well-placed and comfortable. I started to get settled in.
About a week after I had arrived, I knew my way around most of the embassy, and I was sitting with Garcia at lunch when he was handed a message. After reading it, he then handed it to me.
“What? Did you read my mail, too? Printer paper is too dangerous?”
My tone was a bit sarcastic, but while he was ensuring I didn’t get a hangnail, he was becoming a bit intrusive. His Gunny and I would have to meet and talk. Ultimately, I would lose that conversation. I learned why everybody feared the Gunny.
“Mrs. Recreant, it was simply handed to me, first. But we have a meeting in 30 minutes, downstairs.”
I had scanned the sheet and it said what he was saying, I merely frowned thoughtfully and nodded. We would be downstairs on time. Garcia would ensure it, even if he had to carry me.
Inside the meeting room was a gentleman, plainly dressed. Garcia had simply stayed outside and posted watch, to make sure we were not disturbed.
“Ummm… hello?”
I had no clue who this guy was. He stood about six feet tall, was a little muscular, had next to no hair, and his eyes were scary. It was like looking into a concrete wall. Just dead, cold, and hard.
“Mrs. Recreant, I bear tidings from your home. Steve says hello, and he misses you, and he is sorry for how he acted. He is hoping to have a video call with you this evening.”
‘Like I needed a messenger for this?’ I thought as I merely nodded.
“Also, you should know who and what I am. For your purposes, please call me John. Just John and I am here on business. My company business.”
I had no idea what that meant, but asked him to please call me Suzi, and to explain a little more.
“Suzi, your husband and I go back away. He mentored me and we served together for several years. When he got out, I took his position.”
“And just what was that?”
I was dying to get information, now. My husband never told me what he did, other than he was a specialist in the Army, a specialist who was paid a lot.
“I’m sorry, you don’t need to know.”
I sighed and shook my head in annoyance.
“But what you should know,” John continued, “is that Steve has asked me to spend my time around you. You have a good security detail. But I am… better. I can also get some more powerful resources. My company has a budget allocated just for your safety. You will return home in as good a shape as when you got here.”
I shrugged.
“Okay, so why do I need this extra protection? Nobody is telling me anything. It is like they are watching me percolate before the coffee is done.”
“You only need to know that I am here simply because Steve asked. So I am here. If things go well, this may be the only time we ever meet. But I wanted you to know who I am, in case something goes wrong, and I come for you. I don’t want you to give me any resistance, so don’t fight me. If I have to knock you out, I will.”
Just like that, the meeting was over.
I left the meeting feeling creeped out and spent the rest of my day trying to have that video conference with Steve. I missed him so much! But when we did get to see each other, I could tell something was off, and I didn’t know what. All I could think of was getting back into his arms and back to being his wife. But he was distant, and even cold, sometimes. It would become the hallmark of our video chats for the next few months.
So my life fell into a routine. Rise, shower, eat, exercise, lounge around, eat lunch, lounge around, see the doctor or nurse, lounge around, eat dinner, lounge around, and then go to bed. All the while, I was growing bigger. Small, slight changes, but I could tell. After a month, my baby bump was now more pronounced, and I was going on 16 weeks along. I was healthy, the baby was healthy, and I was going crazy. I needed to go out! So, I took Garcia and three of his closest friends and acquaintances, plus some flunky from the embassy and we explored. Well, I explored. My flunky acted as my tour guide, and I learned about Nigeria, its customs, and so on. I bought a few small items to decorate my room and ate some of the local cuisine. Not much as there were elements I was told not to eat, out of fear of harming the baby, and some of it was just too weird-looking. I couldn’t bring myself to do it.
After exploring and exhausting the local area around the embassy, I asked for and received permission to go to Benin. That was an ordeal in itself, as there were a lot of people escorting me. Marines and embassy officials, and even my nurse. I felt bad for her because her backpack looked to weigh more than I did. On the other hand, she was more than capable of handling it, and from the looks of her, anyone who crossed her. She was nearly 6 feet tall, had to weigh over 150 lbs, with long blonde hair in a French braid, and had boobs bigger than mine. Not an ounce of that was fat, from what I could tell, and anyone who was into blonde Amazons would be panting to spend time on a bed with her. If she hadn’t ripped them in half, first. Oh, she also carried an automatic weapon and spare magazines. The irony is she would shoot you and then help you get better. It made me snort in amusement.
The trip to Benin was easy enough and I wanted to just get out and about and see what there was to see, with no special agenda. My ‘nurse’ walked beside me the entire time and we chatted about miscellaneous things and had some nice girl talk. She admitted not a single guy had ever hit on her. They were too afraid. I could understand that. She looked strong enough to be able to use her vagina to rip a guy’s dick off! Eventually, nature’s call became a necessity and I asked to find a bathroom.
A shopkeeper was nice enough to allow me into the back, and while my nurse and another Marine stood to watch nearby, I made my way into the very back of the shop, found the small potty, and dropped my panties. I let out a soft sigh of relief, and was reaching for my panties when my world went dark!
A dark bag was thrown over my head, and a hand clamped over my mouth, keeping my mouth closed, and preventing my single cry out silenced. I felt hands grabbing me and dragging me off, and I stumble-stepped along to keep from falling. I heard the sounds of no longer being indoors, and then I was pushed over, bent against what felt like a vehicle, and my wrists were harshly tied behind me. I lost a show in the process. The end of the rope was tied about my neck, keeping the bag in place over my head, and effectively gagging me as a loop held fast across my parted lips. The bag tasted terrible, and the smell wasn’t an odor to decorate my house with, that much was certain! I was then hefted into the back of some sort of truck, and they roared off with my body held down in the bed as I was stolen away, and kidnapped with a swift and brutal efficiency. I had the notion that they had done this before. I was kept that way for I have no idea how long, but at least an hour.
When the truck stopped, I was very unceremoniously dragged from the truck, with hands starting to cop feel and grope the various parts of my body. My legs were felt up, and my boobs were given all manner of squeezes, which made my nipples rise to the gum-drop-sized gems they were. That invited more pinching and squeezing of those sensitive tissues, sending conflicting blasts of searing pleasure and pain to my brain, to mix with the fear washing through me. Then I was dragged inside a structure, and thrown onto a creaking and squeaky bed. Hands untied me and removed my hood, and as I blinked from the harsh light and exercised my jaw, I noticed that my new location appeared to be some sort of bedroom. My arms were tied above my head and my ankles were pulled apart and tied to the bed rail until I was like an upside-down ‘Y’. Then they stood over me, leering as my dress had risen near my waist. Hands then began to roughly grope me anew, my crotch being a particularly popular place. My landing strip was a curiosity to them, and it seemed to guide them to my honey spot. Dark black fingers soon started to fondle my body everywhere, and slide up and down my petals, until out of a body’s natural reaction, my lubrication started to become evident.
Three men stood about me, all hands and eyes, taking in their captured prey. They were all dark black, like Juwon was, a thought that gave me a momentary sadness of missing him before I had to focus on who was right in front of me. They wore various colored shirts, with holes or tears, and shorts. Even those were stained and had tears of shredded hems to them. All of them had short, very curly hair and teeth that hadn’t seen a dentist ever, and I doubted had been brushed in months. The small whiffs of their breath were enough to make me wish for the smell of the bag again. I stared at them, scared stiff, my eyes leaking some soft tears and I struggled not to sob, while I could feel my lips trembling, as adrenaline coursed through my veins. I tested the ropes. Nope, no dice. I had maybe an inch of movement, and that was all.
They began chatting earnestly, in a language I did not know, and I figured they were going to have a batting order. Meanwhile, my mind raced. I could survive this! Could I survive this? Would I survive this? Was I kidnapped for ransom? Was I just a hot fuck? Would I be released? When? How? What about my baby? How could I be found? How could I send word of where I am? Were these the human traffickers I had been warned about? Would I be sold at auction and become a sex slave? Would they **** me? When? How? By whom? How many of them?
As my mind raced through all sorts of permutations, they seemed to come to a decision. One of them dashed out and started calling out, while the other two decided I was wearing too many clothes. My remaining shoe and dress were unceremoniously removed from me, either by finger pressure or brute force. I cried out as my dress was torn from me, the tension of the cotton material hurting my skin, yet there was nothing I could do. The fabric eventually gave way and I flopped back to the mattress, which itself was thin, and smelled of human sweat and other stains I didn’t want to think about. Then they began to molest my body again.
My already-prepared body easily began to react, as my nipples were again played with, rolled and pulled on, even pinched until I yelped in pain. Other fingers began to tease my vulva and one of them seemed to be very fascinated by my landing strip. A single digit twirled and twirled in that small tuft of pubic hair. Then he came across my rising pearl and began to twiddle with that. The sensitive bud was now blasting my mind with endless pleasure, and before overly long, I was mewing, and soon moaning. By then, a finger had slipped my petals open, and my inner labia were being felt, sending more pleasure through my body. While their molestation was humiliating for me, it was also so arousing. I couldn’t check, but I was certain I was leaking my love lube onto the mattress. My hips were undulating to their touches, and soon my body was trying to get that finger down below to penetrate me. It never happened. At least not that way.
Amid my torment, the one guy who had left returned, dragging back with him a younger one, perhaps eighteen. He stood there and gawked as he saw me, watching me undulate from a forced neediness. There was some more talk, and they all began to strip. My blue eyes darted from body to body. All of them were thin. Very thin. So much so that I feared at least one of them had some form of starvation going on. I could not help but look at their crotches, too. Sparse pubic hair, all of it short and curly and black, surrounding equally black cocks. The last man to arrive was being given the first crack at me. I had the notion that he was going to lose his virginity to me. He was shy at first, and as the other men began to jerk their shafts to arousal, he then did the same, and I saw him grow to a respectable length. None of them were outlandish, but none of them were small, either. Any one of them would be capable of impregnating me if I wasn’t already with child.
The youngest man had to be ushered forward, and urged vocally by his friends, whoever they were, to take me. He tentatively climbed onto the bed and over my leg, until both his knees were between mine. They would talk loudly as if giving him instructions each step of the way. He lay on me and began to hump me, and I could feel his rigid cock sliding up and down my folds, my slickness coating the top of his cock, but not entering me. I think my reaction gave him away, and they spoke to him some more, until he reached down and began to fiddle with his cock, trying to find my entrance. He then literally took a stab at it, which made me cry in pain as he missed the mark, punching his erect and thick mushroom at that silky area below my entrance. More chatter soon followed, and he then used his fingers to guide his cock. Only this time I was moving my hips to try and help him. I didn’t want to suffer that pain again, and it was inevitable. I was going to be gang-***** by these four black men.
Suddenly, I felt his head engaged with my opening and I let out a soft mew, which caused him to lay on me again, and begin to thrust. He didn’t bother to take his time and open me, he just shoved that hard shaft right in me. I arched my back, straining at the ropes holding me as I cried out, only now the others were all cheering. His cock took several thrusts to fully penetrate me, making my voice utter successive loud grunts as I was violated, but I think his cock was sending him a message. ‘This feels good, so do more of it harder!’ He never paused, never did anything but hammer away, with no regard for me at all. I don’t think he knew he should, or he just didn’t care. He was losing his virginity to white American pussy, and it was going to be the highlight of the rest of his life! His thrusts were nearly frantic, and I felt some pleasure as his pubic bone smacked my clit, but he was finished quickly. I doubt he lasted more than two minutes, three tops. He simply started to hammer away at me with even greater ferocity, until he had those hard, erratic thrusts, borne not of technique but from human biology, and he slammed home, bellowing out loudly as he ejaculated deep inside me. There was also a roar from the rest of the men as he had succeeded in losing his virginity, and they were all slapping him on the back and shoulder. A few times they missed and slapped my face, but they didn’t seem to care. He lay atop me as was giving me those gentle thrusts all men make, his sweaty body heavy on mine, our sweat mixing as our love fluids did. Soon he was pulled from me, and another took his place. Only this guy knew what he was doing.
He took his sweet time, filling me with a sense of dread for some reason, slapping my face with his cock, before sliding his cock along my lips. The sweet-salty tang of his pre-emission coated my lips, as he then began to push it at my mouth. Getting the message, I parted my lips and let him begin to thrust in my mouth, my voice squealing in fear as he tried to go deeper and deeper. Bound as I was, it would be impossible for me to deep-throat anyone, even though I could easily do that to all of them. He eventually either got the message or was tired of the mediocrity of my blow job, and he then switched between my legs and used the head of his cock to tease me anew, using his cock to slap my button. That did the trick, and before long, I was panting and whimpering in needy pleasure. I lifted my hips to him, offering my body to his cock, begging to be taken as he sexually tortured me by denying what my vagina was now desperate for. That hard, throbbing black shaft in his fingers. He would slap my clit several times, and then rub my petals with the head of his cock, coating them with his pre-cum, before starting the cycle again. When he judged me ready, he then mounted me easily, and sank to the hilt with several thrusts, each more demanding than the preceding, yet accomplishing the same thing. Once he was inside me, he stayed on his hands, arms extended, and began to fuck me. He glared into my eyes and held my gaze. I could tell he was angry, even furious. I don’t know who, or why, but he was taking it out on me. As his thrusts began to make me pant for air, he spat on and into my mouth, and slapped my jostling breasts, making me wince and cry out. Yet he never stopped thrusting in me, his pace growing ever so slowly, using more and more force, until my pearl began blasting pleasure at me, and my vagina was trembling on his shaft. I was going to have an orgasm, and as much as I didn’t want to, I couldn’t stop it. He seemed to have a great sense of my body and as his thrusts changed pace, from slow to fast and then slow again, he was seeming to play me like a musical instrument, making my breathing and voice change in pitch and sound. Eventually, he reached his point of no return, and my voice went from moaning to loud wailing as my climax erupted from my loins, my pussy bearing down on his black baby-maker, my body eager to coax his into flooding my womb with his virile dark seed. He bellowed out and his body arched as if in pain above me, while his cock plundered me to his full penetration, his cock erupting inside me from my orgasm. He then collapsed onto me, and lay there, making me take his full body weight as he recovered.
It was growing dark by now, and my night would only be beginning. They each began to take turns with me. All four of them have me again and again. The youngest gained some semblance of technique by his fourth time, managing to make me moan constantly, and lasting much longer. But then, they all were. I was growing exhausted, too. At some point, I passed out and slept to the pounding of my pussy by more black cock. It could have been them; it could have been a fresh set of men, I don’t know. I must’ve been out of it for several hours, but I woke to the sensations of my now very sore pussy being used again. Around dawn, they finally called it quits and left me alone in the room. I managed to fall back asleep, my vagina certainly leaking semen, and my body sore in every possible way.
“Nigeria. Great. Wonderful. I’ve landed. I’ve now been there, I’ve now seen that, and all I now need to do is buy a T-shirt and go back home.”
Those were my first thoughts as I landed, having traveled halfway around the world. All because some jerk with a big black cock ***** me, and somehow convinced some bureaucratic moron in the United States Department of State that he was willing to cooperate in exchange for his child being born in his native country, for full citizenship. But it was all bullshit. I managed to talk to an immigration attorney the day before I left. I learned that because I was a US citizen, and the baby’s father was a Nigerian citizen, the baby would have the benefit of dual citizenship. I was now sure that the only reason all these political games and maneuvering were played was that this black General with the prodigious black cock wanted to fuck me for the next several months.
I had to talk to someone because my husband and I were barely speaking to each other. He was barely speaking to me. I couldn’t blame him; he was just the victim of this as much as I was. Well, maybe not so much as I was. I was still being forced to carry the child of a black man who ***** me. But that black ****** had power over me, politically, and his cock had power over me, biologically. That cock of his destroyed me, and he spent that night making several attempts to put his baby in me. One of them succeeded, as he had fucked me stupid and made me say things that I now regret, even if they were true.
His cock had my vagina fit onto him like I was born to be his lover, as well as the mother of his children. He had told me that night that I would never get his cock out of my thoughts. He was right. I could not deny how amazing sex with him was, even as I was being ***** by him multiple times. I didn’t realize just how powerful sex was when he used it as a weapon, and I fell to the incessant string of orgasms his fucking me forced me to have. Despite the horrid look of the man, with his ugly, scarred face and incredibly flabby and out-of-shape physique, I could not deny that if he had come to me again while I was still at that resort that fateful trip, I would have to lay down and spread my legs for him. If he gave me that opportunity. He had been always rather eager, and never gave me a chance to move where I wanted, but he held me under him or in front of him as he sawed his long, thick black baby-maker in and out of my perfectly fitting, quivering and leaking pussy until my vagina was milking his shaft for every drop of his precious seed, helping ensure I was impregnated by him.
He made me say things I would never normally say. How much better of a lover he was, despite that his 300-pound or more flabby body was squashing me flat under him, or how much bigger of a cock he had than my husband, and how he fucked me better than my husband, and how I would forever want his cock inside me again and again. How I would become devoted to black cock, and black men, and I would become a slut for black men, and how I would have the child of any black man who gave me one. No matter how illicit, I would never abort a black baby. His cock had more than power over my body, but perhaps even my mind did. But never my heart, which is why I was so frustrated, forlorn, and bitchy when I stepped off the aircraft.
Looking about, I was instantly taken by how warm it was, as well as humid. But this was Lago, near the ocean. What ocean I didn’t know. What I did know was I was supposed to be met at the aircraft, and I wasn’t disappointed. A row of vehicles was there for me and my Nigerian military escorts, and baggage handlers took care of my luggage as I descended the stairs.
A man in a suit met me at the bottom of the stairs, and I was whisked off to the embassy in a shiny black Chevy Suburban, not unlike my truck. Following us were two Humvees and a bigger truck carrying more troops and paraphernalia. We were led by two more trucks, apparently belonging to the Nigerian Army, or whomever it was. No matter, they evidently belonged to the General, for my two escorts were warmly greeted after the obligatory salutes and other military protocols. Things I was used to describing as ‘military junk’. We arrived at the embassy, and I was led into an office, where I was handed an official United States Embassy ID and a few other things in a manila envelope.
“Mrs. Recreant, I am sure you are tired after your trip and perhaps hungry.” It was the man who greeted me on the plane.
“My name is Robert Wilson, and I am your liaison here in Lagos. If you need anything let me know. Somebody, somewhere in Washington has given me very clear instructions to see to your comfort and safety.”
Then he began a litany of things I needed to know but was in no shape to remember. I was tired, irritable, hungry, and sore, and I needed a bathroom. He showed me where to go, and as I exited, I realized that there was a US Marine standing guard, right outside the bathroom. He then began to follow me back. I even took a turn down a random hallway, and he kept following me, no matter where I went, four paces behind me. He was giving me the creeps. He was a very clean-cut Hispanic man, and after I got lost in the building, I had to stop and face him.
“Okay… I give up. Who are you and why are you following me?”
“Mrs. Recreant, my name is Corporal Garcia. I am assigned as your escort and security while you are on the embassy grounds.”
“Oh, I assure you, Garcia, I do not need to be followed. I am sure I am quite safe.”
“Ma’am, you are, and I pointed this out to the Gunny. But he does not care for my point of view on this, and since I am more afraid of him than I am of you, I am going to be your escort anywhere on the embassy grounds.”
His words were pretty final. Not mean or disrespectful, but he left me with no doubt that I was going to be shadowed. Probably until I was on board an aircraft and heading home. I sighed and realized I had better get used to it. While I was being played as a pawn in somebody’s stupid game of chess, I didn’t want to upset the apple cart of the people committed to keeping my ass alive and getting me home. While I wasn’t a military wife, I was married to a veteran, and so I had some idea of how things worked, and what was expected of me. So, to get along, I had to play along.
“Alright, Garcia, since I am lost, can you direct me back to where I am supposed to be?”
He never got in front of me the entire time I was his charge. His voice told me where to turn, and when and so on, and we got back in good time. Something told me he would be a Colonel or higher one day. Once I entered the room, he shut the door behind me and left me with good ol’ Robert Wilson.
“Okay, so Mrs. Recreant, let's go over these last couple of things and you will have the run of the grounds. The whole city if you want, and with prior authorization, you can explore the country. Of course, you will be escorted, as I see you have discovered your in-house escort. But even they have orders, and they will prevent you from visiting certain locations on your own.”
“What do you mean?”
“Well, there are certain places that you are forbidden to travel, due to threat advisories. Things like robbery, terrorist activity, acts of violence, kidnapping, and the like. The closest to us are the territories of Borno, Yobe, Kogi, and the Northern Alliances and they are only part of it. There are half a dozen more, that are Level IV and do not travel to areas. So don’t plan on exploring there, you won’t be going. Benin as a whole is relatively safe, with your escort. Without it, I give you less than an hour of freedom before someone grabs you and takes you, hostage. Keep that in mind. Nigeria is not a safe place for us. We were bolstered with a dozen additional US Marines as part of our security detachment, and you come with your Platoon on top of that. Some of those are part of your medical escort as well. We have everything you need for your child’s delivery, and you will get regular pre-natal check-ups and dietary support. Frankly, Mrs. Recreant, you will get better care here than at home.”
“Ok… first, please stop calling me Mrs. Recreant. I don’t answer to that, and if you can scream it at the top of your lungs, I probably won’t recognize you are calling me. My name is Suzi. It is okay to spread that around. Especially with the Marines.”
He snorted at that last comment.
“You can try… but I doubt you will have much success. Go ahead and try if you like?” Then he raised his voice a bit. “Garcia!”
The door opened and in came my dutiful and dedicated, sworn to sacrifice his life for mine, escort.
“Yessir! How may I help you, Sir?”
“Mrs. Recreant wishes you and your fellow Marines to call her Suzi.”
He looked at me, and without making an expression, replied to the both of us.
“No. Will there be anything else, Sir?”
“No, thanks, Garcia, just had to make a point.”
“I understand Sir, thank you.”
And just like that, he disappeared, softly closing the door in whatever manner the Marine Corps taught him. I just sighed.
“It’s not that bad. You do get used to it, and from what I am told, they are super-dedicated and diligent. You will be quite safe with them around.”
“Yeah, but inside the building?”
He smiled.
“Suzi… just get used to it. You can’t fight them all yourself. Besides, you will have a bigger battle to fight in a few months. So, let’s get you some dinner and Garcia will show you to your quarters.”
The dining room was quite nice, and I learned there was a dining hall below us, that was where the military and most staff ate. I ate next to the Ambassador and his staff and of course my escort. Garcia was a perfect gentleman with me, helping me get seated, standing when I rose, following me everywhere, and keeping me from getting lost. My bedroom was decent, too, with a twin bed, a TV, and furniture for my meager belongings. I also had a private bathroom, which I learned was a rare commodity, but one afforded me due to my pregnancy. While I didn’t have a window to look outside, I was otherwise well-placed and comfortable. I started to get settled in.
About a week after I had arrived, I knew my way around most of the embassy, and I was sitting with Garcia at lunch when he was handed a message. After reading it, he then handed it to me.
“What? Did you read my mail, too? Printer paper is too dangerous?”
My tone was a bit sarcastic, but while he was ensuring I didn’t get a hangnail, he was becoming a bit intrusive. His Gunny and I would have to meet and talk. Ultimately, I would lose that conversation. I learned why everybody feared the Gunny.
“Mrs. Recreant, it was simply handed to me, first. But we have a meeting in 30 minutes, downstairs.”
I had scanned the sheet and it said what he was saying, I merely frowned thoughtfully and nodded. We would be downstairs on time. Garcia would ensure it, even if he had to carry me.
Inside the meeting room was a gentleman, plainly dressed. Garcia had simply stayed outside and posted watch, to make sure we were not disturbed.
“Ummm… hello?”
I had no clue who this guy was. He stood about six feet tall, was a little muscular, had next to no hair, and his eyes were scary. It was like looking into a concrete wall. Just dead, cold, and hard.
“Mrs. Recreant, I bear tidings from your home. Steve says hello, and he misses you, and he is sorry for how he acted. He is hoping to have a video call with you this evening.”
‘Like I needed a messenger for this?’ I thought as I merely nodded.
“Also, you should know who and what I am. For your purposes, please call me John. Just John and I am here on business. My company business.”
I had no idea what that meant, but asked him to please call me Suzi, and to explain a little more.
“Suzi, your husband and I go back away. He mentored me and we served together for several years. When he got out, I took his position.”
“And just what was that?”
I was dying to get information, now. My husband never told me what he did, other than he was a specialist in the Army, a specialist who was paid a lot.
“I’m sorry, you don’t need to know.”
I sighed and shook my head in annoyance.
“But what you should know,” John continued, “is that Steve has asked me to spend my time around you. You have a good security detail. But I am… better. I can also get some more powerful resources. My company has a budget allocated just for your safety. You will return home in as good a shape as when you got here.”
I shrugged.
“Okay, so why do I need this extra protection? Nobody is telling me anything. It is like they are watching me percolate before the coffee is done.”
“You only need to know that I am here simply because Steve asked. So I am here. If things go well, this may be the only time we ever meet. But I wanted you to know who I am, in case something goes wrong, and I come for you. I don’t want you to give me any resistance, so don’t fight me. If I have to knock you out, I will.”
Just like that, the meeting was over.
I left the meeting feeling creeped out and spent the rest of my day trying to have that video conference with Steve. I missed him so much! But when we did get to see each other, I could tell something was off, and I didn’t know what. All I could think of was getting back into his arms and back to being his wife. But he was distant, and even cold, sometimes. It would become the hallmark of our video chats for the next few months.
So my life fell into a routine. Rise, shower, eat, exercise, lounge around, eat lunch, lounge around, see the doctor or nurse, lounge around, eat dinner, lounge around, and then go to bed. All the while, I was growing bigger. Small, slight changes, but I could tell. After a month, my baby bump was now more pronounced, and I was going on 16 weeks along. I was healthy, the baby was healthy, and I was going crazy. I needed to go out! So, I took Garcia and three of his closest friends and acquaintances, plus some flunky from the embassy and we explored. Well, I explored. My flunky acted as my tour guide, and I learned about Nigeria, its customs, and so on. I bought a few small items to decorate my room and ate some of the local cuisine. Not much as there were elements I was told not to eat, out of fear of harming the baby, and some of it was just too weird-looking. I couldn’t bring myself to do it.
After exploring and exhausting the local area around the embassy, I asked for and received permission to go to Benin. That was an ordeal in itself, as there were a lot of people escorting me. Marines and embassy officials, and even my nurse. I felt bad for her because her backpack looked to weigh more than I did. On the other hand, she was more than capable of handling it, and from the looks of her, anyone who crossed her. She was nearly 6 feet tall, had to weigh over 150 lbs, with long blonde hair in a French braid, and had boobs bigger than mine. Not an ounce of that was fat, from what I could tell, and anyone who was into blonde Amazons would be panting to spend time on a bed with her. If she hadn’t ripped them in half, first. Oh, she also carried an automatic weapon and spare magazines. The irony is she would shoot you and then help you get better. It made me snort in amusement.
The trip to Benin was easy enough and I wanted to just get out and about and see what there was to see, with no special agenda. My ‘nurse’ walked beside me the entire time and we chatted about miscellaneous things and had some nice girl talk. She admitted not a single guy had ever hit on her. They were too afraid. I could understand that. She looked strong enough to be able to use her vagina to rip a guy’s dick off! Eventually, nature’s call became a necessity and I asked to find a bathroom.
A shopkeeper was nice enough to allow me into the back, and while my nurse and another Marine stood to watch nearby, I made my way into the very back of the shop, found the small potty, and dropped my panties. I let out a soft sigh of relief, and was reaching for my panties when my world went dark!
A dark bag was thrown over my head, and a hand clamped over my mouth, keeping my mouth closed, and preventing my single cry out silenced. I felt hands grabbing me and dragging me off, and I stumble-stepped along to keep from falling. I heard the sounds of no longer being indoors, and then I was pushed over, bent against what felt like a vehicle, and my wrists were harshly tied behind me. I lost a show in the process. The end of the rope was tied about my neck, keeping the bag in place over my head, and effectively gagging me as a loop held fast across my parted lips. The bag tasted terrible, and the smell wasn’t an odor to decorate my house with, that much was certain! I was then hefted into the back of some sort of truck, and they roared off with my body held down in the bed as I was stolen away, and kidnapped with a swift and brutal efficiency. I had the notion that they had done this before. I was kept that way for I have no idea how long, but at least an hour.
When the truck stopped, I was very unceremoniously dragged from the truck, with hands starting to cop feel and grope the various parts of my body. My legs were felt up, and my boobs were given all manner of squeezes, which made my nipples rise to the gum-drop-sized gems they were. That invited more pinching and squeezing of those sensitive tissues, sending conflicting blasts of searing pleasure and pain to my brain, to mix with the fear washing through me. Then I was dragged inside a structure, and thrown onto a creaking and squeaky bed. Hands untied me and removed my hood, and as I blinked from the harsh light and exercised my jaw, I noticed that my new location appeared to be some sort of bedroom. My arms were tied above my head and my ankles were pulled apart and tied to the bed rail until I was like an upside-down ‘Y’. Then they stood over me, leering as my dress had risen near my waist. Hands then began to roughly grope me anew, my crotch being a particularly popular place. My landing strip was a curiosity to them, and it seemed to guide them to my honey spot. Dark black fingers soon started to fondle my body everywhere, and slide up and down my petals, until out of a body’s natural reaction, my lubrication started to become evident.
Three men stood about me, all hands and eyes, taking in their captured prey. They were all dark black, like Juwon was, a thought that gave me a momentary sadness of missing him before I had to focus on who was right in front of me. They wore various colored shirts, with holes or tears, and shorts. Even those were stained and had tears of shredded hems to them. All of them had short, very curly hair and teeth that hadn’t seen a dentist ever, and I doubted had been brushed in months. The small whiffs of their breath were enough to make me wish for the smell of the bag again. I stared at them, scared stiff, my eyes leaking some soft tears and I struggled not to sob, while I could feel my lips trembling, as adrenaline coursed through my veins. I tested the ropes. Nope, no dice. I had maybe an inch of movement, and that was all.
They began chatting earnestly, in a language I did not know, and I figured they were going to have a batting order. Meanwhile, my mind raced. I could survive this! Could I survive this? Would I survive this? Was I kidnapped for ransom? Was I just a hot fuck? Would I be released? When? How? What about my baby? How could I be found? How could I send word of where I am? Were these the human traffickers I had been warned about? Would I be sold at auction and become a sex slave? Would they **** me? When? How? By whom? How many of them?
As my mind raced through all sorts of permutations, they seemed to come to a decision. One of them dashed out and started calling out, while the other two decided I was wearing too many clothes. My remaining shoe and dress were unceremoniously removed from me, either by finger pressure or brute force. I cried out as my dress was torn from me, the tension of the cotton material hurting my skin, yet there was nothing I could do. The fabric eventually gave way and I flopped back to the mattress, which itself was thin, and smelled of human sweat and other stains I didn’t want to think about. Then they began to molest my body again.
My already-prepared body easily began to react, as my nipples were again played with, rolled and pulled on, even pinched until I yelped in pain. Other fingers began to tease my vulva and one of them seemed to be very fascinated by my landing strip. A single digit twirled and twirled in that small tuft of pubic hair. Then he came across my rising pearl and began to twiddle with that. The sensitive bud was now blasting my mind with endless pleasure, and before overly long, I was mewing, and soon moaning. By then, a finger had slipped my petals open, and my inner labia were being felt, sending more pleasure through my body. While their molestation was humiliating for me, it was also so arousing. I couldn’t check, but I was certain I was leaking my love lube onto the mattress. My hips were undulating to their touches, and soon my body was trying to get that finger down below to penetrate me. It never happened. At least not that way.
Amid my torment, the one guy who had left returned, dragging back with him a younger one, perhaps eighteen. He stood there and gawked as he saw me, watching me undulate from a forced neediness. There was some more talk, and they all began to strip. My blue eyes darted from body to body. All of them were thin. Very thin. So much so that I feared at least one of them had some form of starvation going on. I could not help but look at their crotches, too. Sparse pubic hair, all of it short and curly and black, surrounding equally black cocks. The last man to arrive was being given the first crack at me. I had the notion that he was going to lose his virginity to me. He was shy at first, and as the other men began to jerk their shafts to arousal, he then did the same, and I saw him grow to a respectable length. None of them were outlandish, but none of them were small, either. Any one of them would be capable of impregnating me if I wasn’t already with child.
The youngest man had to be ushered forward, and urged vocally by his friends, whoever they were, to take me. He tentatively climbed onto the bed and over my leg, until both his knees were between mine. They would talk loudly as if giving him instructions each step of the way. He lay on me and began to hump me, and I could feel his rigid cock sliding up and down my folds, my slickness coating the top of his cock, but not entering me. I think my reaction gave him away, and they spoke to him some more, until he reached down and began to fiddle with his cock, trying to find my entrance. He then literally took a stab at it, which made me cry in pain as he missed the mark, punching his erect and thick mushroom at that silky area below my entrance. More chatter soon followed, and he then used his fingers to guide his cock. Only this time I was moving my hips to try and help him. I didn’t want to suffer that pain again, and it was inevitable. I was going to be gang-***** by these four black men.
Suddenly, I felt his head engaged with my opening and I let out a soft mew, which caused him to lay on me again, and begin to thrust. He didn’t bother to take his time and open me, he just shoved that hard shaft right in me. I arched my back, straining at the ropes holding me as I cried out, only now the others were all cheering. His cock took several thrusts to fully penetrate me, making my voice utter successive loud grunts as I was violated, but I think his cock was sending him a message. ‘This feels good, so do more of it harder!’ He never paused, never did anything but hammer away, with no regard for me at all. I don’t think he knew he should, or he just didn’t care. He was losing his virginity to white American pussy, and it was going to be the highlight of the rest of his life! His thrusts were nearly frantic, and I felt some pleasure as his pubic bone smacked my clit, but he was finished quickly. I doubt he lasted more than two minutes, three tops. He simply started to hammer away at me with even greater ferocity, until he had those hard, erratic thrusts, borne not of technique but from human biology, and he slammed home, bellowing out loudly as he ejaculated deep inside me. There was also a roar from the rest of the men as he had succeeded in losing his virginity, and they were all slapping him on the back and shoulder. A few times they missed and slapped my face, but they didn’t seem to care. He lay atop me as was giving me those gentle thrusts all men make, his sweaty body heavy on mine, our sweat mixing as our love fluids did. Soon he was pulled from me, and another took his place. Only this guy knew what he was doing.
He took his sweet time, filling me with a sense of dread for some reason, slapping my face with his cock, before sliding his cock along my lips. The sweet-salty tang of his pre-emission coated my lips, as he then began to push it at my mouth. Getting the message, I parted my lips and let him begin to thrust in my mouth, my voice squealing in fear as he tried to go deeper and deeper. Bound as I was, it would be impossible for me to deep-throat anyone, even though I could easily do that to all of them. He eventually either got the message or was tired of the mediocrity of my blow job, and he then switched between my legs and used the head of his cock to tease me anew, using his cock to slap my button. That did the trick, and before long, I was panting and whimpering in needy pleasure. I lifted my hips to him, offering my body to his cock, begging to be taken as he sexually tortured me by denying what my vagina was now desperate for. That hard, throbbing black shaft in his fingers. He would slap my clit several times, and then rub my petals with the head of his cock, coating them with his pre-cum, before starting the cycle again. When he judged me ready, he then mounted me easily, and sank to the hilt with several thrusts, each more demanding than the preceding, yet accomplishing the same thing. Once he was inside me, he stayed on his hands, arms extended, and began to fuck me. He glared into my eyes and held my gaze. I could tell he was angry, even furious. I don’t know who, or why, but he was taking it out on me. As his thrusts began to make me pant for air, he spat on and into my mouth, and slapped my jostling breasts, making me wince and cry out. Yet he never stopped thrusting in me, his pace growing ever so slowly, using more and more force, until my pearl began blasting pleasure at me, and my vagina was trembling on his shaft. I was going to have an orgasm, and as much as I didn’t want to, I couldn’t stop it. He seemed to have a great sense of my body and as his thrusts changed pace, from slow to fast and then slow again, he was seeming to play me like a musical instrument, making my breathing and voice change in pitch and sound. Eventually, he reached his point of no return, and my voice went from moaning to loud wailing as my climax erupted from my loins, my pussy bearing down on his black baby-maker, my body eager to coax his into flooding my womb with his virile dark seed. He bellowed out and his body arched as if in pain above me, while his cock plundered me to his full penetration, his cock erupting inside me from my orgasm. He then collapsed onto me, and lay there, making me take his full body weight as he recovered.
It was growing dark by now, and my night would only be beginning. They each began to take turns with me. All four of them have me again and again. The youngest gained some semblance of technique by his fourth time, managing to make me moan constantly, and lasting much longer. But then, they all were. I was growing exhausted, too. At some point, I passed out and slept to the pounding of my pussy by more black cock. It could have been them; it could have been a fresh set of men, I don’t know. I must’ve been out of it for several hours, but I woke to the sensations of my now very sore pussy being used again. Around dawn, they finally called it quits and left me alone in the room. I managed to fall back asleep, my vagina certainly leaking semen, and my body sore in every possible way.
