African Drums, Chapter 1
by Dark Dreamer
All stories on this web site are purely FICTIONAL. The people depicted within these stories only exist in someone's IMAGINATION. Any resemblence between anyone depicted in these stories and any real person, living or dead, is an incredible COINCIDENCE too bizarre to be believed. If you think that you or someone you know is depicted in one of these stories it's only because you're a twisted perverted little fucker who sees conspiracies and plots where none exist. You probably suspect that your own MOTHER had sex with ALIENS and COWS and stuff. Well, she didn't. It's all in your head. Now take your tranquilizers and RELAX.
Part One
Mandy had whined the entire week before they left. She had
whined and sulked during the plane flight, and was now whining,
sulking, pouting, and occasionally snarling. Going on an African
safari, far from chili dogs, pizza, MTV, and her friends, was not
her idea of a holiday.
For once, though, her parents had held firm. They intended
that this would be a good old fashioned family holiday, and were
determined to enjoy it if it killed them, and her. No amount of
whining, cajoling and begging had managed to sway them.
Thus she was no standing on the runway in a baking heat,
watching her father wave forlornly at baggage handlers who zipped
by as if he were invisible. It was little wonder, what with the
enormous amount of luggage sitting beside him.
Mandy herself was very far from invisible to the baggage
handlers, as well as all the other bemused, astonished and
wondering Africans within sight. If she noticed the stares, she
gave not sign. She was, after all, used to be stared at, though not
in quite the same way.
She was, as she well knew, a lovely, even stunning young
woman. Her development had started early. Even when she was eleven
years old, her physical maturity was such that she was taken for a
girl several years older. She'd learned quickly that the men who
looked at her so closely could be manipulated in a variety of ways
to her benefit.
At eleven, that merely meant cooing and blinking her eyes. By
twelve she was wearing tight or revealing clothes and positioning
her body in such a way that older boys and even grown men would
groan and flash carnal visual images in their minds.
By the time she'd turned thirteen, she was an expert at
manipulation, at controlling and manoeuvring men, using their
weakness for her nubile teenage body to make soft jelly of their
hearts and minds, and hard steel of their prongs.
She'd lost her cherry before entering high school, to a
handsome teacher who'd responded by changing her F to an A. Usually
she didn't have to actually sleep with them of course. A little
cooing and sultry whispers, combined with a kiss or two sometimes
did it.
For more difficult cases, she'd casually rub herself against
them, or let them cop a feel of her boobs, or crotch, and sometimes
even jerked them off. She'd gotten great grades in High School
without having a particularly nimble mind, or studying hard. Others
wondered about that, but as a leader of her peer group in school,
few openly questioned her methods for academic achievement.
It was the same in College. She'd started just this year, and
had found the college professors even more willing to come under
her sway. The High school teachers had the added worry, first of
arrest, and even after she passed the age of consent, of firing, if
caught with her.
College teachers didn't really have to worry about that.
Affairs between students and teachers weren't unusual. They could
freely make use of what she offered in exchange for good grades,
and not worry about consequences.
Now, as she stood on the runway, clad in her tight short
shorts and her purple tank top that was cut off just below the
breasts, she was the near perfection of a sexual creature. She
didn't even have to try and pose anymore. Any position she took
could automatically bring males organs to erection.
Her body was that of a goddess, perfect in it's ivory
whiteness, gleaming with health. There was not a pimple, mole, or
freckle anywhere on it. She was tall and effortlessly graceful, her
movements that of a ballet dancer.
Her breasts were large enough to cause double takes, but not
large enough to detract from the perfect symmetry of her shape.
They were high and perfectly round and of a firmness few young
women ever achieved, even during arousal. Her nipples were tiny
pink nubs in the exact center of each breast, which, when hard,
lengthened to an almost unnatural length, standing out hard and
ultra sensitive.
Her legs were the kind that made men run into poles, so
transfixed were they by the long gleaming contours of her perfect
thighs, shapely calves and sweet and lovely knees.
Her ass would have won awards if such were given, and if she
had ever deigned to enter any contest. It was the perfection other
women longed for, had operations for. Not an ounce of fat, not a
hint of imperfection marred her sweet and sumptuous buttocks. They
were more perfect in their shape when she slouched in her sneakers
than most women achieved in six inch heels and tightly shaping
pants and jeans.
Her face was the profile of delicate loveliness. Her eyes were
wide and bright, bright blue. When she wanted, they were they eyes
of an appealing child. Within an instant they could turn sultry and
wanton.
Her nose was a mere button, a little snub thing that made the
women sigh and smile. Her mouth was narrow and luscious, her lips
full and sensuous, her teeth, brilliant white perfection. Taken as
a whole, her face was enough to make grown men and women weep, the
men with regret, that they would never know her intimate
acquaintance, the women with amazed jealousy.
Her hair was the perfect frame for such a wondrously sculpted
visage. It was chest long and as feathery soft and fleecy as the
finest silk. At the same time, it was luxuriously thick, cascading
around her head and splashing over her shoulders and down her chest
and back like a lustrous waterfall halted in mid-fall.
All of these taken together drew lustful and envious stares
and gasps wherever she went, and contributed to what was,
admittedly, more than a hint of arrogance, haughtiness and vanity.
Being rich always tended to draw people into immodesty. Being rich
as well as stunningly, dazzlingly, ravishingly, gorgeous, gave her
an ego hard to reign in, even on those odd occasions that she
tried.
Of course, her luscious silhouette and mouth watering face
were not the only reason she was drawing stares at the moment. The
main point of attraction for the Africans was her hair, which was
a bright, but not unattractive shade of pink.
If she had been aware of the amusement, or confusion her hair
color was causing, she would have simply sniffed about the
crudeness and lack of sophistication of the watchers, utterly
certain that wherever in the world she happened to be, whatever she
happened to be wearing was THE height of fashion, and that included
hair coloring and style.
She was not aware of the bewildering looks though, since all
her attention was focused on herself, and the unhappiness and
uncomfortableness she was presently feeling. These were not things
Mandy was normally forced to contend with.
Seldom in her short life had she been refused any pleasure,
comfort or want, however fleeting or transitory. Everywhere she
went she was granted boons favours and generosity. At home, her
slightest wish was her parents most important demand. Nothing was
denied her.
Of course this went a long way to explaining her self
indulgent nature, her selfishness and vain outlook on life. Mandy
was about as spoiled as any human being that walked the face of
the earth, and as shallow as a dried river bed.
Though she was far from stupid, an original thought had never
crossed her pretty little mind. She followed the dictates of her
social group to the letter, her every move governed by whatever
happened to be "IN".
Now here she was sweating, SWEATING! In a sauna that was
permissable, but out in the open, in her clothes, it was utterly
intolerable.
"Dadddeeeeeeeeee." she whined. "Can't we go indoors where it's
air-conditioned?"
"The building isn't air-conditioned sweetheart. It's hotter
than out here." he replied.
"Not air-conditioned?" She was truly amazed. In her experience
all buildings were air-conditioned. What kind of a place was this?
"Ahhh, there comes our drive I think." her father sighed with
relief.
Mandy turned to see a boxy looking car racing towards them in
a cloud of dust. She squinted her eyes against the sun, then put
her hand over her mouth as the thing drew up in front of them,
hurling small pebbles and dirt all around.
"You Charles Taylor?" a voice demanded.
"I am."
"Righto."
A figure jumped out of the box and moved around to stand in
front of them. Mandy looked up in disgust. The man was in his early
thirties, tall, with coarse dark hair and weathery tanned skin, he
wore a cheap brown short sleeved shirt and dark green pants tucked
into boots, not even designer boots.
He was sort of handsome, in a rugged, cowboy type way, with a
thick, barrel chest and enormous, biceps. His hands were big and
rough from work, and his chest hair curled out through the half
open shirt. Mandy wrinkled her nose in distaste.
"Pleased ta meet yah." The man said, holding out his big hand
at Taylor. "I'm Joe Steel."
"How do you do?" Charles said, shaking hands. "This is my wife
Lucy..."
"Charmed." Lucy said, waving her hand back and forth in front
of her face to stir a little breeze.
"and my daughter Mandy."
"Hi there Maddie." he grinned, his eyes sliding quickly and
appreciatively up and down her body.
"Mandy." she said, stiffly, glaring in reproach.
It didn't do to let the help become to chummy to begin with, and
nobody dared call her Maddie.
With no further delay Joe had begun hefting their bags one and
two at a time, and tossing them into the rear of the "Rover" as he
called it. He showed not even a hint of effort at the heavy bags
and was quickly done, whereupon he jumped into the drivers seat to
await them.
Charles held open the rear door and Lucy and Mandy carefully
stepped in.
"Don't you have air-conditioning?" she complained.
"You're joking?" He laughed. "Air-conditioning! What a laugh!"
He then proceeded to laugh, long and hard, before stomping on the
gas pedal. The three passengers were thrown back against the weakly
padded seats as the Rover bumped and bounced across the dirt field
and out through the airport gate.
In a short length of time, they were driving through an
incredibly dirt and tacky looking excuse for a city, with hordes of
black people wandering around aimlessly and shrieking in some ugly
foreign language that Mandy knew wasn't French or Italian, the only
two acceptable languages other than english.
"How far is the hotel?" She grumbled.
"Hotel? We ain't goin' to no hotel, gorgeous. We're heading
right for the jungle. We'll pick up the rest of the gear in
Bankoland, then head inland."
"You mean we'll be travelling in this?!" she demanded in
astonishment.
"That's it beautiful."
"But... but... but... we CAN'T travel in this!" she exclaimed.
He looked back at her in irritation. "And just what's wrong
with this? This is a helluva fine machine, girl. It'll take you
through damn near anything without stalling."
"How long do we have to be riding around in this thing?" She
demanded.
"This is your ride for the duration, Princess." he grinned.
"Daddeeeeeeee!"
"Now look, precious, we could hardly travel in a Rolls in the
middle of the jungle." he tried to placate her.
"Couldn't you get something that was at least air-conditioned!?"
"You'll never get acclimatized with air-conditioning pinky."
Joe grinned.
"What?"
"He means you won't get used to the heat, darling."
"I don't want to get used to the heat!" she stamped her foot
on the floor.
"You ain't got no choice there, pinky."
"Don't call me that!" she demanded, furiously.
He laughed, which did nothing to cool her temper. She folded
her arms tightly, despite the heat, and sank back in her corner of
the seat, determined to sulk until she was back home again. The
Rover continued to bounce along until they reached a small village
outside town.
There they stopped. There was six other four wheel drive
vehicles there waiting. Joe looked at them in disbelief. "What in
hell?" He jumped out and went to the waiting native drivers,
chatting furiously.
"You told me to find everything on the list and bring it here
with drivers." The man in charge said, shrugging.
"What in hell was on the friggen list?!" Joe demanded.
He poked his nose in the sides of the rovers and jeeps, his face
growing more and more incredulous.
Finally he came over to stand in front of Charles. "Are
you nuts?" he demanded.
"Excuse me?"
"What in hell is all this junk? You got furniture here, fer
chrissake!"
"Yes, a few tables and chairs, and cots."
"Tables and chairs!"
"I suppose you've never sat in a chair or at a table." Mandy
sniffed, disdainfully. Joe glared at her, then turned back to
Taylor. "You have any idea what this is costing you?"
"Of course I know." Charles said with dignity.
"How about how long it's gonna take us to pack up and set
down?"
"I'm sure they'll manage."
Joe closed his eyes and counted to ten.
"It's your funeral." he said, finally, stomping over to the
other drivers.
"Really." Lucy said. "Couldn't you have found a better guide,
Charles?"
"He is supposed to be the best, my dear."
"He smells badly." Mandy sulked.
"I daresay we'll all smell badly soon." Her father said,
altogether too happily. Both women looked at him in disgust.
They bounced down dirt roads for several more hours, with the
other cars riding along behind. They left the road then, going
through the jungle on even more bouncy trails. Just when she was
certain she couldn't take another minute, they stopped in a small
clearing by a river.
"All right. We're here." Joe said in obvious relief. He almost
dove out of the rover, moving as far away from Mandy as he could
get. Never had he had to bear such a constant unending barrage of
whining complaints, and snotty comments.
If she had known the fantasies he'd used to try and block her
out for most of the afternoon, Mandy would have been outraged. In
truth, they weren't all that different from most men's fantasies
about her, except for being considerably more violent.
The dozen natives proceeded to set up the camp, which included
two large tents, each ten feet by twelve feet and tall enough for
a tall man to stand. Inside each the carried a large round plastic
bathtub, which they set up in a curtained corner, along with the
portable toilets.
They attached round curtain rods to the tubs, then put on the
curtains. A pipe with a shower nozzle on the top was put into
place, and a generator to power the pumps, along with other gear,
was started up. One large vehicle was entirely filled with big
drums of water, which were rolled over and attached to the pumps.
Joe sat on the front bumper of his Rover and watched in
stunned amazement as the tubs, along with tables, chairs, benches
and cots were all unloaded and brought into the tents. Each time
Mandy saw him, she turned up her nose and sniffed in disdain. Joe
imagined what a good sturdy leather belt would do to her round
little behind.
They Taylors wandered around, enjoying the scenery, what there
was of it no further than a dozen yards from the camp at least.
Mandy accompanied her parents, shrugging and sniffing at everything
they pointed out.
He got a big campfire going, for the atmosphere, Charles had
said, since of course they'd brought portable propane stoves and
lanterns for heat and light. The fire drew the only appreciative
statement from Mandy Joe had heard all day. She'd allowed that it
was "OK".
Soon after things were installed, the Taylors all retired to
their tents and the pumps started up. Joe's mind filled with the
image of the pink haired girl having a shower and despite his
irritation at her, found his loins stirring.
Normally he wouldn't have dreamed of it, but the little bitch
had been such a snotty little bitch that he almost felt she owed
him one, a look that is.
With nobody in sight, he unzipped the tent and poked his head
inside, then walked in, poking his head out to be sure nobody had
seen him. He moved across to the room to the little curtained
alcove, then looked inside.
The curtain that ran around the tub was in place and water
pattered off it weakly. The pumps were only as good as the power
source which had to be small enough to cart around. Still, a good
spray of water enveloped the girl as she stood under it.
The plastic curtain was solid, and only her shadow showed
through. Not a man to hesitate, Joe wandered across the few feet
that separated it from him and pulled it aside slightly.
Her back was to him, and what a back! Despite his many
experiences with women he had to swallow a sigh of appreciation. He
shook his head as his eyes beheld her beautifully proportioned
body, the lovely round swells of her buttocks and magnificent legs.
She turned and he let the curtains fall. Then opened them a
crack. Her head was tilted back and her hands were rubbing shampoo
through her long hair. He closed his eyes for a second, then opened
them again. No, he hadn't been imagining.
"Good Christ!" he murmured, his voice easily covered by the
sound of splashing water. What a body! His eyes lingered over her
upturned breasts, looking even more golden and perfect as she
unconsciously thrust her chest up and out.
Her belly was smooth and flat and looked like the softest
thing on earth. Her damp pubic hair, she was a blonde, he saw,
barely covered her dark little slit as she stood with legs slightly
apart.
The water trickled off her gleaming wet skin, giving her a
slick, oily look that set his heart pounding and his cock pulsing.
It was all he could do to keep from jumping in and screwing her
right then and there.
Luckily, he was a strong man mentally as well as physically.
He backed away and stumbled out of the tent, his eyes wide and
dazed. No matter her personality flaws, he was going to have the
little slut if it was the last thing he did!
He set out to please her as soon as she returned from her
shower. His attempts to curry favour and amuse her failed dismally
however. She was used to men trying to charm and please her and was
in no mood for it. Besides, he was as far from her type as it was
possible to get without actually being ugly.
His smile became strained over the course of the evening, as
his most gallant, courteous and congenial attempts to strike up
friendship, or even a conversation, failed dismally, shot down by
snotty remarks, arrogant condescension and rude and brusque
dismissals.
He was in a foul mood when he went to sleep that night. It
didn't get any better the next day, as she repeated her whining and
complaining to such an extent he was reduced to angry growls and
snarls himself. When she haughtily summoned him to her tent that
evening, he was in no mood to be pleasant.
Her constant snivelling had driven him to tear into his stash
of brandy far sooner than normal, and he was ready to bite
somebodies head off. None would be better than hers.
Mandy was wearing a light white designer shirt, that, because
of the heat, she'd completely unbuttoned and then tied together
below her bra-less breasts.
That her magnificent orbs were thus encased in two tight sacks
that became translucent as she sweated, did not apparently occur to
her, and if it had, she wouldn't have cared. Tormenting me, even
ones she disliked was commonplace to her.
Her shorts were the kind of baggy, multi colored things
currently in vogue in California, and looked preposterous here, but
again, that didn't occur to her.
"What is it?" He almost snarled after pushing through her tent
flap.
"This thing doesn't work." she complained, pointing at the
shower.
"So what do you want me to do about it?"
She looked at him like he was exceedingly stupid.
"Fix it." She said, pronouncing each word carefully as she
stared at him.
"It ain't my shower." He glared.
"You were hired by my father..."
"To guide you through the jungle. You want a plumber go and
find one."
"How dare you!?" she glared in outrage.
"Oh stuff a sock in it." he snapped.
"When I tell my Daddy..."
"You can tell Daddy whatever the bleeding hell you want you
silly little cunt. I'm tired of listening to your whining and
bitching and complaining!" He moved right in front of her, staring
down angrily from inches away. She backed up in consternation, but
he kept moving forward until she was backed against a table.
He jammed his face right up against hers. "Your shit don't
stink! Do it?"
Mandy's eyes and mouth opened in amazement. Nobody, but nobody had
ever talked to her like this before.
"I... I... I... "
"Oh can it! I'm sick of listening to your whining voice!" He
shoved his face even closer, forcing her to bend backwards across
the table.
"You are the snottiest little ice maiden I've ever seen in my
life! You and your Goddam bathtubs and Goddam CD player and your
Goddam pink hair! What kind of a crazy wears pink hair anyway!?
"It... it's the latest s... style." she stuttered.
"Style! Ha! " He backed up slightly, his eyes glaring as he
looked her up and down. "And your clothes. You wave your little ass
around and show off your fat titties and then look down your nose
at anyone that takes notice!"
He poked his nose in her face again, forcing her back. "What
you really need is a hard belt across your dainty little rear end!
Or better yet a good hard cock up your tight, cold little hole!"
Mandy gasped in shock, her skin flushing red in embarrassment
and outrage.
"I bet for all your showin' off your still a stinking virgin!"
he snarled.
"I... I am not!" she whined.
"Bullshit! I can't imagine you letting any man between those
legs of yours!" He reached his hand down and cupped her big left
breast through the sweaty blouse. "The only one that's ever
touched these are you!" He sneered, against putting his face right
up against hers.
Mandy was now terrified. She was in a situation she'd never
faced in her life. Someone didn't like her! Someone was being mean
to her, yelling at her and calling her names. She didn't know how
to deal with it and gaped at him in shock, not even trying to slap
his hand away from her hot, sweating breast.
"What about it, little miss ice queen?" he smirked. "Or are
you a lesbo? That wouldn't surprise me. A man hating little homo!"
"A... am not!" she whimpered.
"Yeah?" He curled his lip into a sneer, then abruptly, jammed
his big hand down the front of her shorts. The button tore off,
popping across the tent as his hand forced into the thin garment.
Mandy gasped again, her eyes staring down in shock.
Joe's hand slid right under her panties and cupped her bare
flesh, squeezing up against her pussy mound. His eyes continued to
stare into hers and as she looked up, she felt held there, her own
eyes unable to pull away as his fingers began to rub up and down
over her cunt.
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