Mutiny In Léopoldville

[Lucius]

Yes, Caterina Valente was an extremably rapeable star back in those days. This is another fine example that I don't need a girl to be 18 to make the story enjoyable. You even prefer a 29-year-old Caterina to the 18-year-old Katyusha!

Sure, age isn't everything,

Capharnaum is indeed borrowed from French and it's actually used in spoken Canadian French. I certainly wouldn't use it in a professional setting, but here with the context, you get the meaning easily. Very much a synonym for "chaos" or "confused mess".

I suppose it's linked to the amazing subject of Quebec French sacres. I remember Megan from Mad Men with her angry 'Câlice!'

[Nickamano]

I'm no where near finishing reading this but I'm absolutely enjoying it so far. There's great world building (obviously, being a HistBuff story), and some lovely characterisation.
And the slow build toward the "action" is a luscious form of the building of illicit tension.
However (and this is not a specific criticism, just a general comment on long-form stories), the problem with combining really good characterisation along with the fun of the slow build is whether or not the "action" - once you get there - measures up to the expectations you have built on the run up to it.
I don't have any reason to doubt HistBuff's talent's in this respect but it is something I've noticed in other long-form stories and is also something I'm often worried about with my own writing too.

So far I'm loving this. Just wish I had more time, when I'm in the mood for reading on a screen... after spending full days writing on a screen... to get on with this and all HistBuff's other very promising sounding stories.

[HistBuff]

Sergeant-Major Daniel Bokungu charged like a bull as the men made way for him, except a middle-aged Sergeant who was passing his edge while violating Katyusha from behind, in that same position where her lovely face kept sliding on and kissing that massive dinner table, now an altar of virgin blood where Russia's finest was being sacrificed to Africa's commoners, all this in front of her powerless uncle.

The Soviet ambassador kept watching the unwatchable, his eyes round with terrified disbelief and his cock painfully stiff where he sat with his hands tied up behind him, as the ululating Sergeant filled up Katyusha, who bawled like a little girl being punished as she received yet another load of hot love from the troops whose muddy hands never failed to stick to her pristine hips. Like shit on a snow fairy... She was indeed quite a sight of pure sensuality, bent over and sobbing as she was amid those jeering men who were mere apes to her eyes, but now apes turned devils and tormentors.

Dark fingers gently caressed her long hair as Sergeant-Major Daniel Bokungu plunged over her and pressed his face right onto her ass as the lesser Sergeant made way for him.

Ooohhh! That pale cream skin! That softness! Like silk turned to silk! She was covered with girly sweat. The Sergeant-Major's wide nostrils were dilated as he took the full whiff of Katyusha, whom he had spotted days before, for whom he had staged this entire attack! After coming up with that far-fetched story of Soviet troops landing at the airport -- And it had worked. Beautifully.

Now he licked her buttocks and got lost in her paradise of white skin, feeling the slender vastness of those buttocks as he took hold of her hips and let the tension build in his expanding cock. Amid his men's fat jeers and laughter, his ears drank her sobs as he anticipated the pleasure of dropping his beige regulation trousers and baring his cock stiff and proud near her loins, where remains of her royal-blue sweater emphasized the forced nature of her predicament.

"Today's a great day for Congo!" Sergeant-Major Daniel Bokungu exclaimed as he brutally liberated his all-inflated cock while the men held the bawling girl in her defeated position, her face pressed on that dark wooden table. Her long hair a sorry dark blanket on the altar of her slaughtered virtue.

"Macaques! Baboons! I'll fucking kill you all!" the Soviet Ambassador yelled at him in French, only adding to Bokungu's sense of victory.

Bokungu watched and felt his veiny cock stand tall and horizontal with a slight banana twist up, where he let it gently tap on Katyusha's snow-white buns! Her lovely crack of shadow confirmed that the maiden had been brutally stripped out of her daytime skirt and sweater and underwear! All this while the Soviet's wife was screaming and whimpering in that bedroom where she was being gang-raped on Katyusha's bed by more men. One of them had found her records and the song "Katyusha" was now being played over and over, at the loudest volume. It reached her ears and her uncle's, thus intensifying their humiliation.

"Today we won!" Bokungu shouted. "Today's the day when we beat those white pigs and take their women! Urrhhhhh YAAAAAAHHHHHRRR!!!"

As he groaned, Bokungu viciously pushed inside Katyusha, finally consuming the entire purpose of his attack. His dark brown hands took ownership of her hips as he began to pound the whining girl, forcing throbs of pain inside her and sharp waves of whimpers out of her distressed gullet as her sore cheek was once more forced to slide on the tabletop where she normally ate her borsch. The Congolese warrant officer pounded her in rhythm with the song "Katyusha". The ruined maiden would never be able to listen to this record again.

All the men were cheering around Bokungu as he repeated, "We won! We won! Their girls are ours to fuck! We won!" while he raped Katyusha, enjoying her sweet tightness as he brutally forced her ass cheeks to flatten against him on each of his heavy strokes, her whimpers echoing along with those sounds of flesh-on-flesh butt smacking against Bokungu's sweating frame. He was throwing the book of jungle at her! In rhythm with Katyusha playing. Except no Soviet troops were coming to save her.

She was void of hope, the derelict shadow of a fine damsel, while her sore pussy was full of African meat.

He soon passed his edge, urgently holding the crease of her hips and looking at the Ambassador as he pressed Katyusha's off-limit flesh under his hands. His fingers sank into that northern flesh as he struck her butt with quick repeated strokes... and erupted inside her... Katyusha was crushed by the impossibility.

"AAAAAAA AAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAHHHRR YEAAAAHH CONGO! We're raping all th'r girhhrlz!"

He then stood there, beyond relieved, one hand on the small of her back for balance as he panted and drops of his sweat landed on her sweaty buttocks, in the heated room where his devil's slobber trickled out of his open mouth and down on those peachy buttocks he had been wanting so much ever since he saw her. Katyusha was his!

"Come on, boys! Turn her around! Let's see those titties from Russia!" Bokungu finally said as he tapped a Corporal's shoulders while most of the soldiers got rid of their uniform shirts. Their collective musk raped Katyusha's nostrils as they turned her around on that table and propped her legs up. Someone fingered her sperm-filled pussy while another shirtless soldier stooped down and assaulted her breasts --- she had to endure the Negro's tongue smack on her nipple along with his heavy hand as he pressed and cupped the other one of her perky breasts! She was Africanized as she longed for a snowy stroll in Moscow.

Soon enough, she was being mounted by a Private whose face looked like the humble mug of some shoeshine boy in Brooklyn, but this was a full-fledged, guerilla-hardened fighter whose eyes were round with disbelief as he pushed inside her, so round that one would think they were coming right out of their sockets under high-banana eyebrows! While Katyusha felt his big banana deep inside her, and she yelled and cursed and bawled and whimpered, her face distorted in an absolute expression of bitter disgust!

The shoeshine-boy-face youth raped her with her legs up, holding those fine legs with disbelieving hands and gripping her all the tighter as he pushed as deep as he could in repeated attempts to realize this was happening.

"Ehh! Eeeh, eeeh eeeeeh eeeeeeehhh!" the Private went as he plowed a white girl for the first time in his young life. His sweaty hands were glued to her legs, which he held with some religious zeal as he further whored her while keeping her feet up near his open-mouthed shoeshine-boy face! Other hands played with her breasts while the Ambassador couldn't take his eyes off the scene. He wanted to kill them all and wanted to kill himself as his cock kept insanely throbbing inside his suit trousers.

The Private kept at it, subjecting Katyusha's hair to waves of repeated tremours as he rocked her, his hands stuck like horse shit on the angel's skin of her legs. His eyes further widened as he achieved the impossible feat of passing his edge and yes! YESSS! He came and exploded right inside the sobbing girl!

"All in for Congo! Bullseye!!!" the Private yelled as he enjoyed long hot ropes of sperm that left him breathless on wobbly legs!

"Now my turn!" Corporal Joseph shouted as he took over.

"But you already had her once!" a Private protested.

"Don't worry, shirtless Private! There will be enough of her for all of us. Those Soviet girls are tough! HHRRRR!" Corporal Joseph added as he forcefully penetrated the Ambassador's niece. She was so lovely to rape with her legs up. It felt so liberating! At last! They got their hands on white girls!

Katyusha's bobbing head danced some more table samba as the Corporal renewed her ordeal. He loved the smell of her little feet where he held her legs propped up as he copulated against her screaming will, his gaze enjoying the jiggling play of her tits whenever the forest of hands let them free. His senses enjoying all of her along with the Ambassador's defeat as one by one, a dirty dozen was raping his niece.

"Hey, Ambassador! Do you know how good a fuck your daughter is? Aahrr, yeah! Yeah yeah yeah... Here it comes! Aaahhhh yeah! Aaaaah my God! Jesus!!! AAAAAAAAAAAAAAhhhrr uuuggghhh!!!"

"My turn! My turn!"

"My turn after his!"

"And then mine!"

Powerless, the Ambassador watched on as the victorious soldiers, shirtless and sweaty, kept pressing themselves around his no-more virgin niece, each of them taking his turn. The room was filled with their infamous grunts mixed like turds and sugar with Katyusha's cries and whimpers, which sounded graceful even though her voice was broken.

Katyusha avoided her uncle's gaze as she endured the ordeal, her aching head bobbing on that table as she aimlessly gazed at the ceiling. One by one, they kissed her feet, forced her legs to keep brushing against their sweaty torsos as she kept feeling their cocks inside her sore pussy. This was so unfair! Why did life had to be so harsh on her? What did she do to deserve this?

As more cocks followed cocks, she tried to convince herself it was because she had simply been caught at the wrong place at the wrong time. Caught! But wasn't it her own fault?

She felt their heat inside her. She couldn't believe she was receiving sperm from Congolese men! Negro sperm. Her?! This couldn't be! She shook her head and bitterly cried. Her gaze chanced to meet her uncle's and what she saw turned her into moving stone! Lust. It was lust! Watching her like this made him horny! Something broke inside her as she realized she would never look at him the same way again.

Amid the wall of jeers and laughter, Katyusha felt she was once more being taken by the leader of the pack. She felt all their hot gazes on her ankles and feet while that tall, strong Negro took her deep and hard with her legs propped up. She felt his breath against the sensitive skin of her feet. Then something wet as she realized he was kissing them... with thick Negro lips! Nooo! All her senses were a world of pain and confusion where those hands on her tits barely registered anymore.

The leader raped her long and hard. She was pinned on that table, and yet it felt as if she were floating. Suddenly she thought of that German-Italian singer she had seen downstairs at the restaurant with a well-dressed, well-built Negro who spoke American English. Then she realized that other troops must have gone through the entire hotel! She knew for a fact that this dark-haired singer who looked so pretty was now also being gang-raped by a horde of grinning Negroes. Her feet were being kissed by those fat lips, just like hers! And just like her, she, Caterina, yes, Caterina was her name. Caterina was also naked amid those brutes from the darkest jungle reaches!

Katyusha suddenly felt aroused as she pictured Caterina's beautiful body, all that pale cream skin of her, naked amid those soldiers after they brutally ripped her clothes off. And she must have protested loud and shrill too!

"Niiieeeet!" Katyusha screamed as she imagined Caterina screaming amid the soldiers, with her singing voice, as they ripped that cream yellow sweater off her and suddenly exposed her breasts and the intimacy of her jujube-like nipples! Hearing Caterina scream inside her mind as she felt this unfaltering cock inside her gave some new fortitude to Katyusha. Only to be crushed by a mortifying orgasm, in those jungle arms, with their jeers and victory cries sticking to her like fresh dung.

***

Downstairs, Caterina Valente was Eve-nude and floating amid a dark forest of naked soldiers and civilians. She painfully recognized the cab driver amid those Negro mugs and felt peculiarly humiliated to know that this lowly man was partaking. She also recognized the pool-side steward from yesterday... Some biting sense of mortification overwhelmed the young Italian as she screamed and protested in French...

"Non! Non! Vous n'avez pas le droit! Arrêtez non! Laissez-moi! Non! J'vous en prie!!!" (No! No! You have no right! Stop no! Let me go! No! I beg you!!!"

Reverting to French, the singer born in Paris kept writhing amid their dark legion, where they held all her four limbs and kept her floating amid them like an X of ill-fortune and sensuality, where she personified Europe, captive amid Africans. Where she clenched her powerless little fists with desperate strength and endured one brown bomber cock after the other... with their lowly gazes violating her dark bush of pussy hair! That very Italian carpet Archie Moore had contemplated with such mystical fascination before kissing it with the thick lips of a man whose grandfather had lived as an antebellum slave in the old American South, with permanent whip scars crisscrossing his back. A back that perhaps some Dixieland lass had kissed in secret.

Caterina felt so humiliated! And those king-size cocks hurt!

"Arrêtez! J'ai mal! J'ai mal!" (Stop! I'm hurt! I'm hurt!)

But they wouldn't stop! Each man took possession of her and had forced sex with the star singer! She felt the pain deep, hard and mortifying as she heard all the other white women as they shrieked and begged and whimpered throughout the sacked hotel restaurant. She recognized the singing voices from the Poni-Tails. Patti! Patti and her pleas in Yankee English amid the legion of grunts and jeers and ejaculations! Patti and her fellow Poni-tails now knew what it felt like to get a steaming load of African semen on their face. Now they knew all too well what Congolese cocks tasted like as the troops made them into icing queens.

"Ah oui! Ohh qu'elle est bonne à fourrer, cette chanteuse! Caterina! Je viole Caterina Valente! Ohh! Dieu que c'est bon de la violer!" some soldier said in French just as he gave her the tribute of his undying affection in the form of a hefty load of semen! (Oh yes! Ohh, she's so good to fuck, this singer! Caterina! I'm raping Caterina Valente! Ohh! Good Lord, she is so good to rape!)

Each time she got stuffed, another man immediately took over.

To her, the rapes were all just as one and the same world of pain --- a bottomless fall from humiliation into something that had no name. Someone's cock poked in her face as she realized they were lowering her some of the way, where she saw, up close, a Negro hand as it masturbated one large specimen of Congolese cock! She knew what this meant, and while the other soldier kept raping her, with her head down and bobbing, and her body was forced into unwanted arousal from the constant brushing of her legs against the half-naked soldier, she looked away and closed her eyes. All this inside that thick circle of male sweat, musk and fat laughter...

The man's long-winded growl was immediately followed by some hot and clammy sensation on her face. Caterina bitterly sobbed as she felt this offering of semen invading the whole right side of her face and she heard the man call her name...

"Caterina Valente! Comme tu as un doux visage!" (Caterina Valente! I love your face!)

And just as she heard this being said to her, the soldier violating her twitched inside her pussy and something weird happened deep within her and she realized she was climaxing just as her rapist exploded inside her! This was too much! She felt her tits as they swelled under those further Negro hands, just as the cab driver now stood between her legs. And before Caterina knew it, she had him deep inside her with his odious hands imprisoning her hips! She was done for!

Another soldier came masturbating over her face and painted her features with another coating of hot stickiness. Gross! She felt the soles of her feet against the driver's fat chest where the half-naked old man held her ankles while plenty other men held her in place for him as they made fun of her.

Between moving figures she saw Patti being raped from behind, her Yankee buttocks forced to smack on and on against the Congolese man, and this got her horny against her will! All those white women being gang-raped by so many Negroes! It was a military uprising and those men were unstoppable. Caterina realized how badly these men had been wanting to fuck white women. To fuck her!

She was taken by another climax that got so violent that she screamed out loud, "Noooooooo!!!" She protested against the humiliation as all those vile men burst in laughter around her. And her feet stuck to that fat hairy chest! She will never forget that sensation of having her bare soles against that middle-aged chest of a Negro cab driver, with his throbbing cock deep and so hard inside her!

Then came the strangled moan of that driver as he gave her his load of high pleasure. It was unspeakable! Unthinkable! It was so unreal! Just as unreal as if all the men in the orchestra had suddenly stood up and stormed the scene where she sang and grabbed her and urgently tore her dress off before urgently gang-raping her! There was something sordidly erotic in all this.

Caterina tried to let herself go. This sense of being utterly powerless poisoned her mind with a new wind of arousal. They were so fiery in their desire for her! And the rapes never abated.

She perceived the daylight as it changed and eventually waned.

At one point, she was face down against a table with her butt all too exposed to those Negroes. She heard them cheering one another into doing something no Congolese man would normally do...

"Allez les gars, on va lui farcir le cul!" (Let's go, boys! Let's stuff her in the ass!)

"Oui! Le cul! Le cul! Le cul!" (Yes! Her ass! Her ass! Her ass!)

"Parce que c'est pas tous les jours qu'on se farcit une salope de chanteuse blanche!" ('Cause it's not every day that we stuff one white tramp of a singer!)

Caterina screamed in panic and tried to wrestle herself out of their grasp, but she was far too exhausted and those grinning men were far too strong. Sodomy! They were going to sodomize her with their brutally large cocks!

***

Katyusha hit a very high note as she climaxed in the arms of her black rapists. Picturing Caterina naked and gang-raped amid the Congolese troops had proven to be the tipping spark that ignited her. Pushing her feet on the bare chest of the man raping her, Katyusha hit her jackpot and her climax was magnified by the men's jeers and most of all, by her uncle's presence.

***

"AAAH AAAAAAAA-NNAAAOOOOOO! AAAAHRRRHAA AAAAAAAHH... RHHAAA HAAHAAAA HHHAAAAAAAAA HAAAAAaaaaaaaaaaaaa..."

Caterina was howling and screaming, more shrieking than howling, as the first king-size cock pushed his way inside her too-delicate rectum, forcing her to relive a long-buried nightmare, from the farthest reaches of her war-time memories, as the man behind her pushed himself deeper and brutal inside her ass and let his well-slobbered stick give this European singer the full benefit of an African baobab!

Caterina had long reverted to her native Italian as she shrieked out in deep colonial pain and her distended anus became her whole universe, with the sliding of her face against that table and those many brown hands on her a very distant notion as the half-uniformed Negro cried out in a nearly painful jolt of pleasure as he drilled her ass for brown oil!

Caterina Valente was no longer Caterina Valente as she ass-shrieked in a way that was more animal than primal under the harsh slug-fest amid her improbable rapists. Her voice, unrecognizable yet clearly shrill and feminine, could be heard out in the street through broken window panes...

"Noooooo-nooo-nnnhhhnnaaaaaaaaa hhhaaaaa haaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaa--Fermatevi! FermaAAAAAAAAAAAAAtevi! nnNNAAAA HHA HHAAAAAAAAAA... FERMATvII!!!"

Caterina begged, begged and begged them again to please stop, subconsciously using the verb's plural form and knowing there'd be more cocks to come as she felt both hands on her as they savagely clutched the crease of her hips and the Negro blissfully died inside her as he flooded her shit subway where her Italian pasta had long turned into what we all know it is.

And it went on as a smiling shirtless Sergeant took over and further enlarged her rectum as he gorilla-screamed his high adventure inside her, unable to take his eyes from her lovely butt-crack that made a most European contrast against the cream white of her skin.

And she screamed, "FERMATEVI!" And she was heard out on the street. And her Italian sounded like an unwilling praise of how FIRM their invading cocks were, where she was being sodomized amid that shrieking hell where the world now ruled upside down, where Congolese troops were teaching those Belgian tourists the true meaning of Africa.

Things were just as chaotic outside on the chic boulevard in front of the hotel, where an impromptu roadblock had organically taken shape, manned by civilians and late-to-the-party soldiers who had tossed tables, chairs and large crates to further block the street along with their jeeps. Things were absolutely out of hand in downtown Léopoldville! The gone-crazy troops ruled and policemen were joining them in the fun of beating up white men before raping their women.

In the meantime, Caterina Valente in the lobby, and Katyusha on the seventh floor, were well cooked and done for by soldiers who kept saying the fun was just beginning!

TO BE CONTINUED.

[HistBuff]

Note from the author: I've been gone for a while. Since I keep masturbating to fantasies like this one or running them while having sex, I may as well share them here.





Things were just as chaotic outside on the chic boulevard in front of the Memling hotel, where an impromptu roadblock had organically taken shape, manned by gone-rogue policemen and late-to-the-party soldiers who had tossed tables, chairs and large crates to further block the street along with their jeeps. Things were absolutely out of hand in downtown Léopoldville! The gone-crazy troops ruled and policemen were joining them in the fun of beating up white men before raping their wives.

Most white folks were positively terrified by what they heard on the radio and had barricaded and armed themselves in their homes, and rightly so. But some were foolish enough to venture on the street in an insane attempt at getting to the airport safely, be it out of stupidity, stubbornness or Belgian pride. Mr. Gilbert Bertrand, 73 years old, was such a stubborn, proud citizen who had said "I'm not going to let a bunch of barefoot Negroes scare me off! I've gone through both world wars!"

He had indeed. World War I as a butt-hurt Lieutenant who had surrendered the position he was defending against the German invaders, only to witness the execution of half his men along with the gang-rapes of pretty much all womenfolk in the small town that those pigs wearing pointed helmets had just secured for their Emperor. World War II as a butt-hurt Colonel who was at last expecting a battle with the hated feldgrau uniforms, only to receive the order to withdraw, he and his battalion, as the King of Belgium had surrendered to the Nazis.

Gilbert had taken a government job in Congo, now retired with a pension from the Army plus life savings, hoping to live quiet and happy while raising his beloved grandniece, Pauline, whose parents had been executed by a German firing squad back in '43 when she was too young to understand what just happened. He had told the toddler her parents were "gone on a trip".

Pauline had her mother's dark hair and slim figure. She was a tall, pensive girl who felt sad to be leaving this sunny, dusty country where she grew up. To her, Belgium was a foreign country without baobabs.

Pauline sat in the back of her grand-pappy's car, a 1956 Peugeot, as he drove through the "slightly agitated" city. She played nervously with her wavy, shoulder-length hair, tears welling in her eyes as she thought of a boy she liked and realized she was flying away to Brussels and would never see him again. Very much oblivious to her surroundings, and barely registering the small shocks as angry people threw pebbles at the passing car, Pauline remembered that school dance when this boy, Marcel, had been too shy to move in and kiss her, even though she had done all she could to silently let him know she was offering herself.

"I should have kissed him myself when I had the chance!" she whispered with frustration as she recalled everything down to the smallest detail, right down to the tiny polka dots adorning his bow-tie on last New Year's Eve. 1959... It already seemed a far-gone past. For some reason, she most vividly remembered the last 8-oz bottle of Seven-Up she had drunk that evening, at one to midnight... wishing her lips would share the sugary taste with his...

She then jumped on her backseat as the window right beside her was smashed and broken with a baseball batt and she was tossed against the back of the front seat as the Peugeot had come to a screeching halt right out from a street corner. Some rusty old car struck the Peugeot's rear bumper, furthering her sense of shaking disorientation. A nickel-on-nickel strike with someone yelling, "We got them! Hey, there's a girl!"

"White girl! White girl! Let's drag her out!"

"The little white tramp! Time for her to taste our cocks!"

Pauline screamed and her shrill terror filled the car as she realized that invading arms had just opened the door beside her and she was being grabbed! Some thick smell of musk reached her sensitive nostrils and all around her was loud yelling and tramp-calling.

"AAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAHH NNNAAOOOOOOOO! But... W-what are you doing?!"

They dragged her out! All the way out as she tried to confusedly realize what was happening. She was suddenly under a blinding sun. Outside! With shadow faces surrounding her. Negroes! Smiling in a white-teeth nightmare as Pauline suddenly realized they were groping her tits through her dress and catcalling with jeering faces, calling her a lovely little white tramp.

In the chaos where her bare legs were being violated by sordid hands as they bunched her dress up and jeered all the louder, Pauline writhed and tried to break free, all her struggling in vain under too many angry arms, as she heard her grand-pappy's enraged words and a gunshot tore the air!

Through the crowd of beige uniforms surrounding her, she saw her grand-pappy getting struck with rifle butts as they took away the revolver he had just fired in the air since his wrist had already been grabbed. Her grand-mammy was also being dragged out of the almond-green Peugeot.

Then everything became a shadow of evil intents around her as they roughly pinned her on the dusty asphalt and told her they were going to rape her long, hard and good! Some pulled her panties, and she felt the pull at her hips as the underwear snapped broken and she heard a wave of satisfied roars as they saw her intimate home plate.

"Noooo! Please don't do this, I'm virgin! Please, stop this! Stooop!" Pauline begged amid flooding tears, trying hard to believe they would see reason and would let her be. But she couldn't move! They held her down with overwhelming force and she saw the hatred and the lust in their dark mahogany faces!

Without a shred of mercy, those troops of the Force publique -- she recognized their tan uniforms and their distinctive hats -- shredded her colonial-white dress and obliterated the fabric in all directions at once. She then felt a sharp, painful pull against her back and realized her bra was no more and the sun was directly kissing her small breasts, which they kneaded and pressed while she screamed at the top of her voice!

"NNAOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO!!! You're Negroes! Negroes! You can't do this! You can't! You can't... Aaah aaaaahaaaaaahaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaa RRRHAAAAHHHAAAHHHAAAAAAAAA NAAAAAAAAAaaaa not this please..."

But her dress was already tucked hard right up to her waist and she felt -- and couldn't believe -- the breeze on her exposed sex as a deafening crowd of whistles and catcalls confirmed her shame. The Negroes were seeing, and touching, the black triangle of her mystery carpet!

"Whoo-hou-hoo! Look at this white-girl cunt!"

"A lovely plot of land!"

"Needs to be fertilized I'd say!"

"Africanized I would say!"

"Hold her tight, boys, I'm first! Wow she looks so young and pretty! I can't wait to fuck her! Let's make sure the young Milady is wet!"

As he spoke, the forty-something Platoon Sergeant who had self-appointed himself a Captain --- and wore the rank's insignia and uniform, taken from the white officer they had beaten up earlier that day --- took his index finger and proceeded to violate Pauline and she shrieked her life out and wriggled and jerked in short restrained motions, spread-eagled as she was in the middle of the street. Their evil-smiling faces and ominous frames blocked the sun and cast a confused spell of moving shadows as they contemplated the never-seen splendour of her breasts and her white-girl entrance!

Pauline screamed even louder and jerked again in their grip in a hopeless attempt as her vagina was being explored and polluted by turd-coloured fingers. The older man smiled at her under his wide and flat nose, while others cupped and kneaded her bare breasts vigorously, and Pauline's eyes rolled all the way beneath her eyelids as she shook her head in a token no! gesture, the one freedom of movement that was left to her... And she thus offered them a pair of uncanny white eyes, just as someone said that those lovely small tits were going to whiten their lips with Belgian milk.

"This is what I'd call a nice international exchange! Her milk for our semen!"

"AAAAAAAAA NNNHAA AAAAAAAAAAAA NAOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO dn'T tch-me!!!"

"You scum! Leave my grandniece alone! She's too young--AAOOWWW!!!"

"Shut up, grandpa! Shut up and watch us! We're gonna honour your granddaughter!" a gone-rogue policeman yelled at Mr. Bertrand after hitting him with his law-and-order stick. Then he got an idea and added, "See this blackjack stick? I'm gonna put it right inside her! It's payback time, grandpa!"

"She's ready to cook!" the self-appointed Captain exclaimed, his dark eyes filled with joy, his nostrils fully dilated as he took an elusive whiff of her scent while he unzipped and lowered his uniform trousers, proudly showing the terrified Milady how long and stiff his erection was!

Pauline grew insane and her shrill-screaming voice broke and turned husky as she saw how brown his cock was. Deep brown. Horrifically Congolese.

She jerked again, with such surprising energy that the men had to use their full strength to keep her under control, but then her energy waned as the tall and large Captain lied down on top of her.

He proceeded to push himself against her entrance, commenting her tightness and saying she was "no doubt a virgin" as he strained, her body blocking her protesting legs on either side of his hips as he pushed and strained, feeling the unreal sense of victory as he spear-stormed inside her heat and realized he was gaining ground and entering inside the European girl!

"NNHHAAAAHAAAAAHAAA AAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAA! NO! NO! PLEEEEEEEEZ-STOP THS-NNOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO! PAPPY! PAPPY DO SOMETHING-AAAHNNAAAAOOOOOOOOOO..."

"AAAAAAAAAAAAH YESSS! Oh, God! She is so good to fuck!" the leader of the pack exclaimed amid the wild cheers of his men as he won over Pauline's barrage of tightness and rammed himself all the way inside! Pauline shrieked in pain, her voice husky, unrecognizable as she failed to wrap around her head that she was being deflowered by a Negro old enough to be her father. Realizing this was worse than her physical pain. Unbearable! Marcel the handsome boy from school was erased from her memory as she felt sinking into unworthiness. No white boy would touch her now.

The big-faced Negro licked Milady's pretty nose and her cheek as she turned her face away from him. He called her "a pretty thing" before reverting into a jungle of grunts and began to pound her so savagely, with such head-bobbing motions that his peak-cap fell and Pauline, through the bobbing confusion of her head, saw a myriad pearls of sweaty sun on his bald head. He was so ugly! So demonic! And this was he who turned her into a woman! She hoped to vomit in his face, but her body wouldn't grant her wish.

She clutched her little fists and strained against their grip in one last token gesture of fight, before surrendering, feeling she had no choice but to let the mud-brown swines have their way.

He soon exploded. He screamed, "For Congo! Congooo!" and she felt his twitching inside her shortly before he flooded her with long bolts of semen that matched his hot exhaling of air on her face, and the brutal expression of twisted anger on his face contrasted against the eight-ball joy illuminated his all-round eyes as he kissed her tears-flooded cheek and licked her face from chin to hair!

"Aaaaaarrrhh... This is so much more fun! Let's go, Jean-Baptiste, take your turn! And from now on, you're a Lieutenant and my company's second-in-command!"

His face a mask of brigand joy, the newly promoted "officer" who wore his Corporal's chevrons on his upper sleeve, took his so-called Captain's spot between Pauline's legs and as the forest of hands moved away after petting and kissing her brown-nipple breasts, the younger Negro said "hello" to her as he lied against her and planted his stick between her labia. She felt utterly crushed upon realizing there were so many of them and they all meant to take their turns! Her tears were burning her reddened cheeks. The first man's cock had left her pussy in a sudden void of fiery pain and shame. And this was only the EARLY beginning.

With unfathomable glee, the fake Lieutenant began to pound the sobbing girl, immensely enjoying her broken-in virginity under the encircling wall of cheers and tramp calls.

Captain Békélungo stood and watched, so beside himself with joy that he forgot to pick up his fallen peak-cap. He watched the rape and loved it, his legs still wobbly from his post-climax state of grace. He heard grandpa's yells and also loved it. Mr. Bertrand said he was going to have his cock cut off and then have him eviscerated alive and quartered by a team of strong Belgian horses!

"Well, grandpa! In the meantime, we are the stallions and your girl here is paying the big price in the dirt! She's a tramp!" Békélungo said just as Lieutenant Loko sounded like a man who just got shot as he emptied his balls inside Pauline.

Pauline felt free again, only to get her breasts crushed again under that same forest of hands while two Sergeants came to blows as each said it was his turn. A sleek-looking Corporal with an ugly scar marring his leather-brown face settled the argument and she got crushed under him! He penetrated her like a shitty spear of pollution and she felt the now-familiar motions of hate and roughness as he began pounding her, drowning her in his tropical musk as he said it was justice that they did to her "what a bunch of them white pigs did to my prettiest cousin".

"Con-go! Con-go! Con-go..." the men around her chanted as the face-scarred Corporal pounded her hard and relentless until he filled her up with another helping of Congolese semen. Then the Sergeant who had won the fisticuff, a brute and a beast in every way, came and had her utterly stripped naked!

Pauline realized she had some tiny dignity left as they shredded the ruins of her colonial-white dress. With each sound of fabric-tearing sound, she felt a lump of dignity leaving her forever.

As if to mock her, they left her white-on-black saddle shoes along with her black socks as they forced her to kneel on all fours, and then they played tam-tam on her naked butt! She felt their elation through their hands as they tapped her butt cheeks.

Mr. Bertrand saw the horror, powerless, beaten up to half-unconsciousness, livid with rage, and the scene all too vivid before his blue eyes. Surreal. While her wife was being raped from behind bent over on the hood of his Peugeot, Pauline had been stripped naked and her butt now offered blinding white curves under Africa's merciless sun.

Much to his shame, he felt his cock harden as he witnessed the disgrace upon seeing one brute of a Sergeant kneeling behind Pauline and slowly, clearly lengthening the pleasure of anticipation. The brute took his king-size cock -- the sun showing its powerful veins and the purple of its punching head --- and only then, after enjoying the last of his wild anticipation, only then did he push himself inside the bawling girl.

The brute took his big hands and grabbed her slender hips and began to drive her buttocks in harsh motions against him, going faster and faster as his pleasure quickly gained momentum. Mr. Bertrand saw it all through the moving press of soldiers and policemen, most of whom were now shirtless in the surreal urban scene, where a deep truth that had always been in the air, lurking and elusive, had now taken form.

The Congolese had cocks which they could and would use against white girls if given the opportunity. The mutiny had given them this opportunity. And now Pauline was being hammered like a kneeling bitch with her butt sun-white amid a grinning mob of troops as her life was further destroyed with each stroke.

"Hrrr hrr hrrrrr! aaahhrrr, she's got a real tight butt! I love this! A bit thin, but... aaarrh YEAH I LOVE THIS!"

After getting so unusually expressive, the gruff brute gave the girl a couple more strokes and then let out one beast of a long-winded moan as he filled her up with a monster load! Mr. Bertrand watched in horror and disgust, his cock shamefully hard like a broomstick in spite of his 73 springs.

"This is not possible! Impossible!" the retired Colonel said as he watched on as a forest of black hands tapped her buttocks and learned their slender, sensual contours. Pauline was thin, and yet she had all the curves that made men hard, especially if they were men about to fuck their first white girl.

The next man also took her doggy-style on the dusty street, and this time Pauline was forced to moan amid her bawling as he happened to rub her magic spot just the way her body responded best to. This and the fact that her gaze chanced to meet her grand-pappy's.

The trousers-down policeman died inside her and sounded as such, realizing he had forgotten to use his baton inside her, but instead rolling with the wave... He held her hips hard as he suddenly remembered having seen her walking down the street he was patrolling -- armed and yet separated from her by the colour wall. And now the impossible was possible and happened as his cock exploded and seemed to become universal as he flooded her with his dangerous sludge.

Another policeman came to kiss her butt and further the risk for a brown baby.

"This little white snub needs all the fertilizer we can give her! She's ripe for pregnancy, I can tell from the way she moans like the sow she is!"

"I'm gonna rip your intestines, niggers! Scumbags of shit--Owww!"

"Shut up, granpa! Sorry to hit you again with your own revolver, but stop yelling! And don't worry, you'll get your turn inside her! Now watch this!"

The so-called Captain hit grandpa again with the British revolver that dated from the long-gone Victorian era, before he walked near Pauline, whose hair made waves of sun-playing shadows as the second policeman had the time of his life, raping her hard with both hands on her protruded buttocks as she rested her weight on her elbows, her face taking the street dirt where it slid with each new shock as she whimpered and bawled and kept begging them to please, please stop. She offered a lovely sight, naked except for her socks and saddle shoes.

"Noo! Don't do this!" grandpa said as he saw his tormentor kneel down near Pauline's face and understood was he was about to do.

Indeed, the self-promoted Captain ordered Pauline to get up on her hands as the policeman presently reached his climax and pushed hard inside her, pressing himself against her bottom and sending a wild hip tremour that caused shock waves to roll on Pauline's skin and seemed to make the colonial order shake and crumble as the policeman looked high up toward the sky and shouted, "aaahh-yes! Yes! Aaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaayyaaaaaaaaahhhrrrrrr!!! Aaahhh..."

Pauline wept all the tears she had left as the policeman relieved himself. But then she felt something cold and hard against her ajar lips. She looked and screamed. It was her grand-pappy's revolver. She knew this .38 British bad boy for having secretly played with it oftentimes since she was four.

"Open your mouth and suck, Milady! Suck if you want your grandpa to live!"

Pauline obeyed. All the Negroes laughed as they watched the white girl sucking the revolver, her eyes closed, with something in her face reminding one of a schoolgirl doing her homework and applying herself, as her lovely head of dark hair bobbed back and forth in short motions, her sealed lips working the barrel's short length. She thus coated the barrel with a sheen of slobber that shone incredibly bright under the afternoon sun. The men around her all watched in silence, some of them quietly masturbating.

She felt the sun heat on her bare back. She felt the heat of their hands on her butt and legs a lot more. Always down on all fours, she kept sucking her grand-pappy's Victorian revolver, which looked preternaturally sleek and black in the blinding sunlight with dust suspended amid the still air. Time itself had come to a stop, just like the side-way suspension-wobbling Peugeot where grandma was whimpering while getting the hardest rape of her life.

Then Pauline felt a new pair of hands around her loins. This pressure was followed with the predictably painful penetration.

"Who told you to stop, white girl? Keep sucking!"

The "Captain" took immense pride and pleasure to see this Belgian girl getting so humiliated. Thoroughly so. A Private with a unusually big cock, all of it offering a wicked boomerang curve, painfully entered her and caused her to scream in pain against the hard barrel of the gun.

"Don't stop, slave girl! Suck! Suck! Be a good girl and we'll give you a reward. Your grandpa!"

As she heard, tears streamed down Pauline's face. She sucked on and realized the horrific possibility, perhaps a certainty. Would they go as low as forcing her to have sex with her grand-pappy? She recalled the way they had dragged her out of the car, stripped her and began raping her. Yes they would!

The Negro behind her quickly hit his jackpot and tried to comment on how good this felt in inarticulate words as he gave her his load of sperm. Was it the fifth or the sixth one? She wept more and kept sucking her grand-pappy's revolver, now obeying commands and kneeling as she gently caressed its barrel, just like she was told. While the troops commented on the loveliness of her buttocks as she sat on the heels of her saddle-shoes, she kept sucking the gun. With tears streaming down her face and her pristine-looking breasts offered in plain sight as she sort of stooped a bit forward and the curves of her hips and bottom got showcased even better.

"Let's shower her in our cum!" the newly promoted "Lieutenant" suggested.

And much to his horror, grandpa watched as three, no four soldiers and policemen, all of them with one specimen of African manhood, as they walked near Pauline's kneeling figure and began to masturbate.

"Now, Milady, now! Gimme that little mouth of yours! I'm hard again and I want your head! Be a good girl if you want your grandpa to live! And we'll kill grandma too if we just feel a hint of your teeth! Understood?"

Pauline nodded, shortly before the cosplaying Captain shoved his hungry cock inside her mouth! Loving the shimmer of her tears on her pretty face, he grabbed her hair and began to violently rape her head, filling the air with his grunts and his sense of absolute victory as he watched another group of gone-wild soldiers in the act of gang-raping a brunette wife while her powerless husband sat and watched, all beaten up near a dark blue Citroen -- another foolish driver who was now paying the price of his proud stupidity by having to watch the mass rape of his wife.

The pretty wife was being had on all fours by the bunch of hate-filled men. Down on her knees and hands, her wrists strictly held where her palms pressed the dusty asphalt, she could feel every little painful grain of truth under her sore knees. In addition to those cocks forcing themselves inside her. Through her palms, she could appreciate first-hand how hot and hostile the streets of Léopoldville really were as she took the brunt of the successful mutiny and realised way too late that things downtown were a lot worse than she thought. Even worse, their hands holding her wrists, and the rapist clutching the crease of her nakedness as he banged her buttocks, forced juices of guilt-filled arousal right where she was being violated by trigger-happy Negroes.

Pauline's mouth worked its magic as the cap-less Captain held her hair painfully hard and raped her face blissfully fast. He soon passed his edge and enjoyed a state of unblinking bliss! His jaw loosened and shivered with each massive rope erupting out of him and deep inside her. It felt so good to give his sperm to a Belgian girl! Was he dead?! Her hair truly felt like an angel's.

Then Captain Békélungo pulled out of her and loved how she coughed and spat out some of his seed. Her face had the twisted expression of someone who just swallowed something gross and disgusting. He loved this. Also loved the fact her grandpa was seeing all of it!

The four Negroes who had been masturbating -- and pacing themselves -- presently surrounded Pauline's kneeling figure. Her graceful and thin nakedness gave ample fuel to their erections as they frantically masturbated near her face, one of them holding her hair to make sure she remained there, her face and her breasts within range.

Three of them ejaculated together!

"Hhaaaarrrrrrrnnnnngghhhhh!"
"Ooooh ooh ooooooooooh..."
"Hhmmnnghh yeah... Take this, Milady!"

Pauline felt it deep to the marrow of her cheekbones. The Negro sperm hit her face like a hot sludge-hammer and she felt her heart turn to putrid water as her face got creamed three times over!

She closed her eyes under the rain, but she couldn't turn away as they fiercely held her hair. They made sure she really learned what being face-cummed by Congolese men felt like. They made sure not one drop was wasted.

"She deserves it! The snobbish little tramp!"

"Haaaah! This is so much fun! Let's take her inside this hotel and spend the night there! I want to take her pussy later!"

"Get out of my way! Outta my way!"

As he spoke, the fourth man, a peace officer, rushed near Pauline and he masturbated to a mud-coloured blur before he generously shot one sickening load on Pauline's breasts! Directly! It stuck like pale dung to her wide cleavage between her small tits. She exploded in a dry storm of sobs without tears.

The peace officer watched as one of her delicate nipples seemed to disappear under his parting shot, before it became visible again like some light-brown berry under the glistening coating. He had lost such a truckload of sperm! It was the absolute elation of doing this to a white girl. At last! He could have them!

***

"At last! At last! We can fuck their women! Kongo! Kongo warrior-HHHHHRRRRRRRRRRRRNNggghh rrrhyaaaaaaaahhh!!!" uttered the Private raping the brunette wife on all fours near the damaged Citroen as he gave her Africa like the icing on a chocolate cake. Some black women stood by and watched, with a weird mix of jealousy and vengeance in their eyes. Those soldiers looked so handsome, and these white girls had it coming.

Mr. Bertrand watched as the brown pillar kept getting lost between the brunette wife's butt curves, a guilty pleasure to watch as the Congolese kept pounding her throughout his ejaculation, grunting like a sex-starved ape and clearly intending to make this something he'd never forget. Neither did she.

Then the newly styled Lieutenant lied down on the street near Pauline, to whom the cap-less Captain gave the command to go straddle him and ride his cock, or else... Her grandpa...

The sobbing girl understood. She indeed straddled the tall and thin Negro. Obeying all the commands, she began to caress his chest, with loathing hands, and with trembling lips she pretended to tell him she loved to fuck Negroes. Pauline had no more tears left to cry.

In the meantime, her grand-mammy was still bent over her husband's car hood and getting pounded by that brute of a Sergeant who decided to try out grandma after having fucked the granddaughter. He was pleasantly surprised by grandma's buttocks and legs that didn't look all that old. Her feet and lower legs were even young-looking! The first rapists had stripped her completely naked and loosened her long silver hair out of the austere bun she usually wore --- her breasts were probably sagging, but it didn't matter since the old whore was bent over and bucked like the bitch she was. She was a surprisingly good fuck!

The old woman was whimpering and trying not to show it when she climaxed under the brute's ramming strokes. She also found the sight of Pauline monstrously arousing as she rode one Negro who kept bouncing on his lap and her jiggling breasts offered an unstoppable sight of young erotic light as her nipples kept dancing up and down where she arched her back -- like she was told -- and kept whimpering and pretending to say she loved being gang-fucked by the Force publique.

"Say you worship our cocks! Say it! Say it loud! White tramp!" Captain Békélungo commanded.

The brute kept banging the grandma against the white-owned car. The naked Lieutenant kept watching the teen girl's jiggling tits and the splendour of their non-sagging grace. Those sunlit tits screamed "I'm young and taken!" to his Congolese eyes. He let her white boobs hypnotize him as he kept enjoying being a prisoner inside her, his hands on her hips, his ears almost hugging her moans mixed with her sobs and bawling, now caressing her thin legs, then moving up to cup her delightful breasts, yet again.

He suddenly felt a surprising shivering along her legs and heard the loud change in her moans, just as she shouted, "Oh noo! Nooo! Nooo!"

He passed his edge just as he realized what was happening. Everyone catcalled and laughed as Pauline climaxed against her will, her hair making waves of shadow and sunlight on either side of her cum-crusted face while Lieutenant Loko pressed her breasts -- and unknowingly intensified her climax --- just as he erupted inside her with a delight that could never be comprehended, not even by Loko himself.

Each shot of sperm felt painfully good. One. Two. Three... three raging bolts followed by one smaller, but oh so doggone hard and intense! What a gun salute for the young Milady!

"Wow! She's... a... She's quite a fuck!" Loko said amid his hard panting. He was all in sweat and Pauline smelled his musk so intensely she felt she was going to vomit.

Then, of course, another Negro lied down, also naked. She straddled him even before being told. She now knew their commands before they were spoken. She knew she had no choice and so she tried to understand it wasn't really her fault. But she felt so violently ashamed to show herself naked and sexual in front of her grand-pappy!

And her tits kept dancing under the sun as she kept being a toy for the Congolese.

"How do ye like our men? Bloody little tramp!" said one big Congolese mama as she looked at her with gun-sight eyes. Her face looked like a moon of anger under her bright violet headband. Her arms looked thicker than Pauline's legs. For some reason, she felt even more afraid of her!

***

Several similar scenes of horror happened on that day in Léopoldville's white neighbourhood and along the way to the airport.

Once the Peugeot, the Opel or the Renault was stopped, the white driver -- even if he was elderly -- was dragged out and beaten up by the mob in uniform and street-clothes. And his wife and any nubile daughter were summarily and forcibly undressed and raped by the tropical-heat mob -- even the elderly.

The Bertrands had met the worse right in front of the Memling hotel.

Florence Bertrand, 71 years old, was thus gang-fucked by no less than four young men as she was overwhelmed and held down, her face pressed on the hood of her husband's car as some gigantic cock took her some decades in the past, and she was raped while hearing the angry yells and threats of her husband as the grinning Negroes forced him to watch.

Their grandniece had been dragged out of the almond-green Peugeot, and groped and grabbed while her dress was obliterated, the white cotton torn to shreds at the hands of men who looked like the ones who did cultivate cotton. The sounds of tearing fabric were sickening to hear -- but music and joy to the Negroes -- as Pauline got deeply lost amid their musk and lust. And her virgin breasts came into sight, her nipples looking surprised at being there and gazed at by those men.

"Pauline! Non! Laissez-là! Ma pauvre petite-niece! Pas elle... Pas elle..." (Pauline! No! Let her go! My poor grandniece! Not her... Not Her...), her beaten-up grandfather sobbed, oblivious of his own bloody-battered state as he watched the unthinkable happen right in front of him! He knew all too well that those baboons would especially take enjoyment in deflowering Pauline. With secret arousal, and plainly shown rage, he watched. Watched as the grinning Negroes ripped Pauline's bra and the surreal sight of her perky tits was right there, jiggling under her screams, under the bright sun amid all those sons of Congo as all their male gazes magnified her beauty revealed!

An old garbage collector who had been wearing the same worn-out jacket since 1935 opened his mouth wide as his wide-round eyes learned the warm brown of her nipples and areolas, learned how beautiful and soft those gentle shadows really were under the moving tumult of her tits as her eyes panicked wide under high-stretched eyebrows as Pauline realized she was to be gang-raped, and it was inescapable.

Even the sun was accomplice as the horny mob of soldiers and policemen bunched her dress high upon her waist... and made short work of her panties! And the blazing sun revealed it in broad daylight! Her virgin cunt of raven hair! Lush. Available.

"All right, white tramp! This is your day! Hold her fast boys and spread her legs!" a Negro wearing an officer's uniform ordered the men as he congratulated himself for having had the bright idea of joining and taking command of this roadblock after enjoying the vaginal charms of Caterina Valente.

As the nubile brunette screamed and clutched her fists in powerless anger against fate, the mud swines held her down, pinned and spread-eagled amid them, grinning down on her as she lived her very worst nightmare. She filled the air with shrieks! She sounded terrifying to the old garbage collector, who nonetheless opened his stinky trousers and began to masturbate.

She didn't have the slightest chance as one man firmly held each of her limbs and all the damsel could do was shake her head in the blur of her shoulder-long hair of wavy black light as she closed her eyes and suddenly remembered that her grand-pappy was there to see this.

Her distorted face spelled unrecognizable sounds as they began fingering her. The Negro officer and his wide face of grinning joy became the first man to know her in the biblical meaning.

Pauline writhed like an eel thrown inside a tub of acid, her face washed with sunny tears as her violation happened in broad daylight and more men gathered around her. A couple of civilian boys happened there and came nearer. And began to masturbate as they saw it was a white girl that had been caught by a group of soldiers on a rampage.

A young white couple was foolish enough to drive there. Right into a trap! Two tired jeeps from the 1940s, painted in American khaki, were there blocking the way and the driver was forced to brake, just as some old battered car that had been following them also braked, all too near his Citroen -- blocking any escape! The white-owned car was surrounded by soldiers pointing their rifles at the driver!

The blue Citroen's windows were shattered and its doors were forced open in spite of the young wife's shrieks as the overexcited men spotted her. A young white woman! She was gorgeous! Dark haired and delightfully petite! Her white-gloved hands promised of lovely little feet!

Some gone-crazy Corporal plunged at her feet and she fell amid her own screams and was soon grabbed and overwhelmed by a forest of brown arms and hands.

The maddened Corporal tore her pumps off her stockinged feet before ripping those stockings off from under her dark skirt, very avidly so! The flashy paleness of her legs came into sight as her fish-net black stockings were pulled off her dainty feet!

The maddened Negro reached its objective. His cock was so hard upon seeing her bare feet! It would have made a coconut jealous as he took hold of her writhing ankles and began to kiss and kiss her small feet, his thick lips pressed on her colonial-white skin while she shrieked and protested and called "Michel! Michel!!" her husband's name as the sex-avid pack of human hyenas ripped her blouse off and bared her breasts while bunching up her skirt as she showered her spitting protests, her voice less indignant than terrified as she looked at all around her and saw only Negroes with a stern face with hate-filled eyes. She was getting it.

Her husband Michel was already a bloody mess. He held his side closely where he feared one or two ribs were broken. He had lost his fedora hat along with his pride. One large and strong soldier pulled his hair and forced him to look at his brunette wife as her topless breasts seemed weirdly proud and rode high on her bare chest, her skin pure white against the forest-green ruins of her polka-dot blouse -- jiggling mounds of jello-like panic that filled the scene with the light of truth, with her raspberry-nipples as fruits of knowledge. The knowledge that came with a pack of hands obscuring those tits. The knowledge that the unthinkable was happening. This violence had been brewing for years.

Any budding protestation from the young husband was cut short by the butts of Belgian-issued rifles as Negroes beat him up while telling him how hard and good they were going to fuck his wife!

"Don't worry, Sir! We'll let you partake if you behave nice and good!"

"Or maybe we'll give you a crack at this young lady over there! Hey it's Sergeant Békélungo! What a thrashing he's giving her! Look at how deep he's going! Poor girl! But they deserve this! White pigs and tramps all of them!"

"She looks very young and pretty! I'm gonna try her out after I'm done with Mrs. Pretty Wife here! That's for sure!"

"Hey guys! Dya hear the party inside the hotel? Listen how those white women are screaming! They've sacked the Memling hotel! Yepee!"

The brunette's shrieks and her soon-to-be-broken voice seemed to fill the entire sky as hungry Negroes tore her blouse out of her arms and all the way down her waist as they enjoyed her topless beauty! She felt their kisses on and around her navel and felt a strong acid wash of arousal while one athletic-looking Negro, already shirtless, was sucking her left-side breast... Whistles and catcalls welcomed her melanin-rich nipples and the alluring size of her breasts as they pressed and kneaded them as if their lives depended on how much heat and love they gave to those white tits. The love-mad Corporal kept his face glued to her feet. A Sergeant forced-kissed her and blocked all wind inside her. This was a lucky day.

A Senior Sergeant went inside the husband's pockets and took his wallet. He took the money and then he found a picture of this same young wife who was now being pinned and spread-eagled in the very same way as the young lady near that light green Peugeot. In the photo, the brunette was wearing a dark one-piece swimsuit showing her back and her hourglass figure where she sat on her bare feet, tilted to one side and flaunting the perfect curves of her ass while looking at something on the white-sand beach.



"Thanks for the picture, pale bloke! Hey boys! Look at this picture! This is the tramp herself! In her swimsuit! Look at her ass!"

Michel DeVos, 26 years old, was further beaten up, this time with hard fists, and could only watch as a pair of sunlit Negro buttocks filled the space between his wife's legs. With massive efforts, the soldier was raping her with grunting hatred and fury! Forcing her light-filled legs and bare feet to move along with his heavy strokes as he pounded her. His tan trousers were crudely lowered and intensifying the powerful brown of his buttocks that looked so massive he could lift a car! And she felt crushed indeed as one under a car.

Her loud whimpers and lamentations confirmed to Michel's ears what his eyes wouldn't accept as truth. Armande DeVos, 22 years old, born to a rich aristocratic family in Ghent, educated in a nun's abbey before a year abroad in Oxford, was now being powerfully raped by some Congolese nobody. All this while other hyenas of the same kind held her arms stretched away from her wide-eyed face, mocking her bobbing head as her cheek received the frothing slobber of her too-close rapist. And the acid-wash of arousal lingered on within her as she felt the impossible closeness and saw the mix of lust, arousal and hatred in the soldier's face.

And some maddened man was kissing and sucking her feet and made her cross her ankles on top of the rapist as the latter began huffing and puffing and he violently accelerated as the wife begged him to slow down, saying it hurt, but the rapist was far gone and he ended up licking her face in long tongue strokes while positively dying of glee inside her. And then she felt something hot and sticky on her feet.

The mad Corporal had consumed his love for her white girl's feet, making it two loads for the price of one. Congolese semen had become a cheap currency.

The Senior NCO had shown the picture to all nearby men. They now all wanted to see what her butt looked like in the nude, so they turned Armande around and savagely ripped all surviving remnants of her clothes, this while the young lady over there was shrieking her life out amid another ring of Negroes while an elderly woman was being properly raped with her long silver hair loose and her face kissing the hood of the light-green Peugeot.

Armande DeVos caused all men around her to grow an insane erection as they moved her on all fours and the Senior Sergeant, all fifty years old of him, stood above her and near her bottom, masturbating, contemplating her, and enjoying his dominance while his men held her in place while running their hands all over her, each inch of her skin now owned by the mutineers. Those mud-dark hands kept coming back to her bottom curves, where her hourglass figure was properly confirmed by the firmness of her waist, and her stripped-naked state confirmed to unbelieving eyes through the shadow line separating the lower regions of those buns she normally sat on fully dressed during daytime.

The off-limit wife who used to wear clothes that tantalized any Congolese man who saw her, with a rich girl's pearl necklace in three rows that seemed to tell the lower men not to even think about it, this same wife was now Eve-nude, down on her hands and knees, and her knees already hurting on the unforgiving street dirt while a Negro kept licking her feet. They had stripped her thoroughly, even removing her white gloves upon kissing her hands, making sure none of her escaped their lust.

The old Sergeant had heard about the upcoming Africanization of the officer corps and he decided to self-promote himself to the rank of Major. He looked at the battered husband and made fun of his messed-up necktie as he knelt behind his young wife and ran his hands around the heart-shaped contours of her buttocks, letting her smoothness invade the pores of his earth-bound skin as he learned the soft detail of her priceless contours.

"This is going to be a magnificent rape, Missie! Now, Missie, get down on your elbows so we can see you better! We have dreamed of this so long! So show us your butt real good! Let your loving Negroes kiss it! And tell us you're proud to be fucked by such strong warriors as we are! Say it or we kill your husband!"

"What?! Uh... nno."

"Don't you speak French, white tramp? Say you're proud to be a little tramp for Congolese troops! Say it. Ooh, Ma'am! You've got a gorgeous butt! I can promise you a strong river of seed! I've always dreamed of saying this aloud to a white Milady!"

With trembling lips, while she felt those hands running all over her buttocks, while the others held her wrists and mocked her, the fashionable wife looked down at the too-close asphalt of Léopoldville and began to speak...

"I... I..."

"Say it, trollop!"

"I... I feel proud to be... to be wh-whore of an entire platoon of... of Con... Con-Cong-golese s-ssoldrs!"

"Say it again! Louder! Make sure your husband hears ya!" the self-appointed Major Serge Lutundula barked as the wife started to cry. "Don't start to cry, baby! Just say it aloud and let us gang-fuck you long, hard and good. I promise you're going to really enjoy it! Now say how proud you are to be our white girl!"

"I... I'm proud! V-very p-proud to be-to be to be the-the wh-white girl f-for the entire platoon of men who all have b-big and hard cocks!"

"That's better! You need some more training, but this will do for now. And now, young Sir, watch how I rape your tramp wife! Hhgg yaaaaahh!"

The so-called Major Lutundula had pushed inside her without warning! He grabbed Armande's baby-skin hips and went deep into town by pounding her and letting those flesh-on-flesh sounds give a proper whipping to her husband's cuckold ears as he enjoyed every second of the coitus. After hardening his cock by tapping it on her butt as she spoke and said those things that sounded so funny from a classy white lady, the penetration had been punishingly delightful.

She felt so good to fuck it almost hurt! He tightened his grip on the crease of her hips and watched those rich and helpless curves get flattened against him on each stroke. It felt so good to shatter the colour line!

In spite of his being fifty years old, he remained as hard as a rutting gorilla and sounded like one as he grunted away and kept contemplating his own banging action against that woman whose bottom he had gone mad over from the moment he looked at that picture of her in a swimsuit.

He soon proved unable to make the fun last and he pressed the sides of her butt between his gone-crazy hands as he got hit by what felt like a bolt of lightning, and while he relieved himself and felt the wobbly buzz all over his kneeling legs and groaned his life out, other men gently caressed her hair while her crying face slid on the street dirt and she knew she was getting another disgusting load of African seed.

He pulled out and released one final bolt of semen that landed on that derriere he cherished so much. "The naked butt of a white wife! Now graced with my own sperm!" he thought, crazy with elation and feeling weightless as the post-climax heat set in.

In a gesture that the young husband would have nightmares about for the rest of his life, the fifty-year-old Negro massaged Armande's flesh and spread his semen on her buns!

"Now! This is nice and proper for the fashionable Milady! Wear it with pride, white tramp!"

Armande was silent and trembling in her mindless sobbing, while the next man was already moving and kneeling behind her to renew her ordeal on this warm African day of July. A gorgeous day to settle old scores. And scores of men were hard at it.

The man had well coated his cock with spit, and after pressing his face on her yielding butt, he penetrated her and went inside like a brown knife into pale-hot butter. He grunted and screamed aloud, then whooped like a baboon, holding her hips and striking her bottom with repeated gusto as he fucked a white woman for the first time. The smile amid his mud face said it all!

With a sense of victory that could only be conjectured, he felt all her deep fibres as he kept her imprisoned in his mad grip and kept pounding her! The distorted twitches in her face and the way she screamed she was a Belgian subject and they were going to pay for this, in her sob-broken French, were all music to him and his buddies as he asserted his dominance and looked directly into the eyes of her defeated husband.

"How do you like it, Belgian boy? We're all going to take our turns and we'll probably all use her twice!"

The half-crazed man held the proverbial crease of her hips as he banged the full orbs of her buns against his joy-filled frame! Others pulled her husband by the hair and made him watch as he screamed her name... "Armande! NOn!"

The men around Armande just couldn't believe how beautiful she was in the nude. This entire dream must be a joke made just to further mock them as they were going to wake up in Belgian Congo with nothing changed and no access for them to officer ranks. But it was no joke, no dream. The fiesta was for real this time! They were having a white man's wife. Young and beautiful at that!

Armande's will collapsed under the strain of their collective enjoyment... and the man behind her, always holding her creamy-soft hips, tried to comprehend the enormity of what he was doing as he became one with the beautiful stranger. He enjoyed the light-and-shadow contrast of her long sleek hair against the white surreal of her skin. Once, he plopped out of her, but this only brought him more pleasure as he got to tap his hard cock on the sensual expanse of her curves, where her European softness got highlighted by some remains of her torn blouse that stubbornly hugged her waist.

With a bliss that could not even be imagined, the unknown Negro who went by the name of Jean-Baptiste, pushed his cock back inside Armande!

"I know you love this, Milady! You love us! You secretly love us! Say it, Milady, say you love Congolese cocks!" the man uttered amid his urgent strokes, between his grunts as he kept driving her butt cheeks against him, raping her like an absolute paradise as she was given hell on that dusty street where Congolese men all looked at the dirt darkening the soles of her bare feet -- the heel shoes of her civilization were long gone.

To the rank and file enjoying her, it was a beautiful, well-deserved abuse! Those white pigs had been enjoying their privileges since 1880! Now the tables were turned and it felt so goddamned good!

The long-lasting champion gave the wife more than she could bear. She begged him to stop, her pussy sore, her bruised face sliding on the foreign asphalt, so far from her father's château way up north in Ghent, and while the indefatigable soldier fed her with pain and shame in his unending barrage of jungle fury, she heard all those women's screams through the hotel's broken window panes. It sounded as if an entire brigade of those baboon-faced men were raping the hotel itself, making it shake on its foundations to the point it was on the verge of crumbling down.

As she was rocked on and on, with blood and pain in her knees against the unforgiving asphalt, Armande heard her rapist as he shouted at her...

"Now, Ma'am! Now! We're taking our country back! Hgghh! Oh, you're a good fuck! Do you like it long and hard, Milady? Now we take the white man's home! We take his car! And as sure as the sky is blue we take his wife! Heeehh oh, Good Lord! Almost there! We take their wives! And their daughters too!"

As he finished speaking, this stud of a Negro nodded at a fellow Private who had just finished raping the young damsel in front of a beaten up elderly man who had to be her grandpa. The grinning man was wiping his spent cock using the girl's torn dress, and his cock made quite a colonial sight against the white fabric. Yes, the rape of their wives and daughters was all they deserved! White pigs!

He then closed his eyes and let his fingers sink into her baby-soft hips, letting her feel his primal strength as he closed his eyes and screamed...

"AAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAHH! YES WE'RE FUcking their women!"

He kept his eyes closed and remembered that day when three boys beat him up -- three boys in their teens while he was still only eleven! He emptied his balls with a deep sense of revenge and satisfaction, and then he suddenly remembered her swimsuit picture and the last of his ejaculation got mind-boggling strong!

This Jean-Baptiste, a second-class Private, remained breathless, then he stooped down, sweating like a river as he licked and kissed Armande's butt, each tongue stroke filled with purpose as he desperately tried to make her his forever. She shuddered as she felt his heated love on her derriere, and wanted to die as her juices raged inside her unwilling pussy! Always those wicked hands touching and touching her!!

The Private wanted to go further down and began running his hands down her legs, but a burly police Corporal pushed him out of his way, and with a smile as wide as the sky above, he knelt down and started a new chapter in his life as he began raping Armande, his eyes drinking the whiteness of her skin, and feeling it through his hands as he forced her curves to tap against him. Repeatedly as he grew into a human juggernaut inside her.

Armande was silenced by a second Negro who joined her in the kneeling party. She heard him, like in a slow-motion dream, as he told her in French that the life of her husband depended on her being obedient to their commands.

"So you better open this pretty mouth of yours, Milady, or else!"

And this was how Armande discovered the unspoken taste of an African cock! In broad daylight, as the man took possession of her head and thrust his battering ram deep against her palate! The young soldier screamed a thundering cry of victory as he began raping her face, looking directly at her beaten-up husband as Armande had a hard time to breathe while she was being rocked by the terrible slug-fest where the first Negro was enjoying her pussy along with her never-hoped-for loins and beauty.

The Corporal gave her ears the privilege of his final grunts and filled her up. Another man, this one a boyish recruit, was already inside her and thus prolonged the husband's priceless privilege of watching his wife being spit-roasted while on all fours!

The boy soon blissfully passed his edge, after less than a minute, while her forced mouth job kept going on. The boy's face was filled with surprised delight as he screamed and felt he was dying. He erupted and flooded the wife as he realized she was a few years older than himself and he just lost his virginity. Inside a white woman who looked like some raven-haired movie star.

The boy then walked away and noticed there was a white girl about his age who was all naked amid another pack of soldiers and policemen, all of them grinning and jeering at her. For some reason she was still wearing her saddle shoes along with those bobby-socks that screamed to him she was indeed about his age! She looked so beautiful in her suffering, naked and spread-eagled as she was in the arms of the proud pack of his elder peers! The all-black triangle between her legs seemed to smile at him like some precious turf that had been waiting for him ever since two white men beat him with sticks when he was but only four feet tall. This enjoyable Milady deserved indeed the death of her virtue.

He came closer and soon enough, he was masturbating and naked while watching the damsel's ever-renewed tragedy as he felt he was going to take his turn inside this lass and lose a great deal of frothing slobber on her protesting face as well as a truckload of seed inside her. And when the men did let him in and he enjoyed his turn cheek to cheek with her, his joy and glee far surpassed anything he had hoped for.

"AAA AAAAAAA AAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAHHH!!!" the soldier-boy screamed as he exploded inside Pauline within two minutes of sinking inside her!

"I'm Mark-André, very glad to know you, Milady!" the boy told her as he finished emptying his balls.

"Answer him! Say your name, white tramp!" a hate-filled policeman ordered.

"P-pauline... Please l-let me go..."

***

The brunette wife was still being face-raped while another man, this one being the old street sweeper, knelt behind her and pressed his tired old hands right onto her aristocratic curves, and with utter disbelief, he lowered his stinking trousers and produced an even more disbelieving cock while he heard the slurping sounds from where she was being kept a prisoner and forced to pleasure a black cock.

The street sweeper rammed his toy deep inside Armande. Her husband saw it. And the sixty-something man began taking his pleasure while she had her mouth always filled by the rancid-smelling cock of a policeman who held her head like some bowling ball, forcing her to make him a very happy man.

The Congolese cop screamed like an absolute orangutan as he exploded inside her mouth and creamed her tongue and palate! He made her swallow! Her husband shrieked in moral agony as he watched in horror as Armande was kept with her face pressed deep against his groin and forced to taste all his pudding. The taste was revolting! It was so revolting! She knew she was drinking the sperm of a Negro and she had no choice in the matter. Knowing this was the worst.

All this while the ugly old street sweeper kept pounding her, kept butt-taping his lap against her! She could smell him even from where she was, even through the smell of sperm from her mouth and hair where that policeman was now wiping his cock. The old man smelled like rotten garbage!

Near the Peugeot, another man exploded as he gave some raging ropes of semen to the granddaughter being gang-raped. Another one exploded inside the surprisingly entertaining grandma.

Armande tried to spit out as much Congolese semen as she could while many Negroes were cheering for the old street sweeper who seemed to be out of wind. She indeed felt the softening of his grip on her as he slowed down inside her. She felt it and found this relieving, but then she grew afraid -- what if the old man lost his erection and began beating her up, blaming her?

But then the old man pulled out of her and began to masturbate in absolute frenzy! Enjoying the grand view on her legs and butt as he did so while lifting an index finger and gesturing to the soldiers to silently tell them to wait just one minute as his cock soon found new strength. He reinserted it inside the sobbing wife just as one large and fat civilian knelt near her face and stuffed his big fat donger inside her mouth, ordering her to suck if she wanted her husband to survive the encounter.

The street sweeper loved how this powerhouse big man was making the white wife suck his large batt of chocolate magic. Seeing this greatly aroused him. He felt a glorious expansion of youthful strength against the walls of her pussy as he kept hammering her, and soon he was pounding her while she enjoyed another spit-roasting at the hands of the tandem he formed with his huge countryman.

He looked at the hotel and heard the white women's lamentations. He looked at the damsel over there, and saw the youth in her breasts where she knelt with nonpareil grace, naked except for her schoolgirl shoes, as she was forced to suck the cock of a black officer (a black officer?!) and his eyes zeroed in on the teen girl's hips and that hint of her butt crack he could see from where he was mounting the brunette wife, his clutching hands enjoying the crease of her hips as he then looked down and got sucked in the priceless defeat of her butt curves, which he flattened on and on and on in his urgent fuck!

This was happening! Open revolt! White men beaten up! Their cars stopped at roadblocks! Their homes invaded! And open-mouthed Negroes relieving themselves inside their precious daughters! Their wives spit-roasted between Congolese men! Everything gone upside down and this was so wonderful! He was himself inside one such wife! Her husband watching! Another girl to rape just over there, and this one even younger! Her butt! The white student! Her feet encased in her saddle-shoes! The wife! Her butt! Her whimpers and her mouth filled with one big slab of Negro manhood! Was he going to ever cum? He blurred up his speed and raped the wife as if he were a twenty-year-old lunatic, screaming and whooping, "Aaahhh! Houu! Huu uuuh huuh huh huh huh huh huh huh huh..."

Those butt curves were now his entire universe. Then it happened! The big brown boy screamed out his final victory, out of one big wide open mouth that sounded like a bass and sailed far and wide under the blue heavens as he pulled out and flooded her pretty face, screaming louder with every shot of semen that thicken the hot coat of gloss on her delicate features as the fat Negro ejaculated with a bliss that reflected the urgency of the face-rape he just inflicted upon her.

The old street sweeper suddenly imagined her holding one long and thick cock of Congolese brown, he suddenly passed his edge and let out a rain of frothing slobber as he yelled his dying bliss and basked in the heat of his long-awaited relief!

"At last! Rape! Rape! Congo! Aaaaaaaaah we won! We won hhhrrrnngdddjj ggggghhhh God!!!"

The old man emptied his balls! She felt it deep and shuddered upon thinking of the dangerous swimmers invading her womb while she felt the mask of sperm heat on her face along with the old man's hot slobber that dripped down on her buttocks.

Some dapper pygmy wearing street clothes, with a sickening yellow bow-tie under his Negro smile, came kneeling right by her face. He had been masturbating and as soon as his cock was inches from her, he joined the ejaculating party and groaned long and good! He thickened the sperm icing on the exposed side of her peachy face! All this in front of her husband! Armande felt sinking one more notch below the asphalt jungle as she realized that this manlet would barely reach her shoulders if she was standing next to him! He looked like a walking joke and yet she could do nothing and had to endure the heat and smell of his sperm! This was Belgium's worst day!

"Now boys! This is what I call a good battery! Make me proud, boys! Two more men! Let's give it to her again, both ends at once! For Congo!!" Major Lutundula ordered. The order was met with cheers and catcalls and tramp-calling. Armande knew all too well that her ordeal was far from over... brown-light years away from being over. A great many milky ways were still in store for her.

Her husband shook his head and couldn't believe the horror he was witnessing as a new pair of brown-face rapists were already upon his young, fertile wife. He hoped she was already pregnant from him. He really hoped. He was also looking at the scene where this pretty young girl was being gang-raped by other men from the same mob. They were now making her ride Congolese cocks while other men masturbated all too close to her face! Her young boobs were such a sight to behold under the sun!

Much to his shame, the husband got granite hard as he watched. He felt the urge to go over there and engulf her young tits in his mouth! To kiss her all the way from head to toe. Then to fuck her. Hard! Everything felt horrific and surreal. More surreal than horrific as he lost all inhibition and his hard cock took over as his brain became a fog of unspoken lust and horror. This while his wife was being made a toy for those men. Armande had both her mouth and her pussy full of those savages, who sometimes fired gunshots in the air as white women were being raped out on the street.

TO BE CONTINUED.

[Blue]

@HistBuff
What a party!

[HistBuff]

@HistBuff
What a party!

More to come!

[HistBuff]

In the official press, they would later say no Congolese civilian partook to "those shameful acts of violence that were perpetrated against Belgian nationals and other Europeans", but the reality as experienced by Pauline, her grand-mammy and Armande was far worse than depicted in the newspapers. There were suits and shirts amid those beige uniforms! Street-clothes with soldierly outfits. Shirtless Negroes too. And the sunny sweat on their ebony muscles along with their pungent musk were getting Armande and the grand-mammy aroused, do what they will.

Needless to say, no journalist would write a single word about the rape of Caterina Valente and the Poni-Tails pop singers at the hands of the Negro soldiers. There would be a mere snippet about "Caterina Valente's show in Léopoldville met with great enthusiasm by a select audience that included King Baudouin".

Françoise Latour, a young female journalist from Brussels would end up gang-raped in her own hotel room. More about her later. Her fate would remain just as unknown as the Poni-Tails'. Fingers trembling after her long flight on the wings of Sabena, she would sit at her typewriter, smoking cigarette upon cigarette and wondering whether she'd commit the career-ending move of revealing what truly happened in Léopoldville, what happened to her.

"Don't even think about not following my instructions!" the grand boss would bark at her. This boss happened to be her own father, who owned the newspaper and this was why she was already a reporter, the first female reporter in Belgium, at only 24 years of age. She would buy a red blouse to replace the one the men from the hotel staff had destroyed, but her hands would never stop trembling.

Armande DeVos would have a first-hand account to tell if the press allowed it. At any rate, the white women's shame did an even better job than the press at silencing them. She knew the smell and taste of Congolese semen. It would get into new-bought clothes even years later and would always linger. It would perfume the rest of their life and make them scared that everyone around them was also smelling it.

Armande as she was when she ate her breakfast on the morning of July 7 1960 was gone. Her husband was now married to a very different woman, and he saw it as he witnessed her being spit-roasted by Negroes in tan uniforms near his car, at a makeshift roadblock in front of the Memling hotel.

Somewhere amid the horror, shortly before her tandem of lovers blasted their pudding inside her mouth and pussy, Armande felt her grim pain morph into something else and then she realized it when it was too late. That pair of hands branding her hips like fire took another burning meaning for her flesh as the nameless Negro behind her kept reaping his long-dreamed benefits, through non-stop collisions against her ass, to say nothing of the way the other man held her hair and forced her into the rhythm he wanted, to say nothing of her bloody knees that were killing her against the asphalt jungle as she paid the price for the troops' anger against Belgium. All this political turmoil was hardly her fault. She paid the price all the same, at the hands of men who all looked the same to her.

She growled against that cock raping her mouth as she felt weightless in an all-encompassing ball of hot bliss that went off like a time bomb and was immediately followed by an even more powerful sense of shame. And in that tiny window of sexual surrender, she felt bizarrely angry against her husband because he had the nerve of being there to see THIS.

Soon after, both men twitched inside her mouth and pussy at the exact same time!

The civilian wearing a straw hat and raping her mouth pulled out of her and let out one far-reaching scream, loaded with meaning, his hot scream hugging her very skin as he painted her pretty face with sun-glistening sperm, his eyes and his mind unable to fully realize he was actually doing this to a white man's wife. Each of those hot ropes on her face confirmed the pungent reality of her colonial demise.

The Private behind Armande pressed her buttocks and buried his dark fingers into her yielding flesh as he sounded like he just got shot by a 12-gauge shotgun and he flooded her with additional swimmers and more of that dangerous content. Armande's sea-green eyes further rounded with terror as she cried under the glossy mask of her shame and her tongue accidentally met a dollop of Congolese sperm, just in time for another pair of men to renew the double fiesta.

Seeing her face graced with semen, the troops and men in street-clothes got even more overexcited and almost sounded like a bunch of sex-crazed Apaches who had just killed all the men in a stagecoach convoy and realized that a bunch of white women had fallen in their hands.

Another man, then another one got to enjoy Pauline with her on top and riding him as he grabbed and took possession of her slender hips and her waist, cupping her tits whenever he liked while other Negroes kindly offered their cocks for her to suck them. Her fear of seeing her granpa and grandma get killed kept her an obedient girl and they knew it. The hot seal of her mouth worked magic and caused her youthful face to wear a glistening mask of semen that rivaled Armande's.

Commenters who smoked a cigarette while grinning said she made "a wonderful cowgirl for the Force publique and there was no reason for her to leave Congo".

Some civilian wearing a brick-red plaid jacket smiled with all his teeth under a grey fedora as he brutally face-raped Pauline and nearly wiggled like Elvis Presley in Jailhouse Rock, keeping her face dead against his groin and his cock throat-deep while the policeman under her made the cowgirl bounce on him as he reached his boiling point and beautifully erupted to conclude the hot ride, just as the fedora-hat civilian also erupted and gave the white girl another helping of bechamel sauce, the tropical version.

She swallowed it with tears in her eyes and a definite nausea. Grand-pappy watched in silence, now fearing to get hit again... and masturbating under his guards' amused grins.

After two or three more "clients", the young tramp was once again "gently talked" into lying herself down on the street with her spread legs, for some more missionary pounding! Her pussy was now killing her! Too many of them... They forced Pauline to wrap her legs around her "loving Negro" and commented on the alluring lines of her legs as she was naked except for the saddle-shoes and bobby socks encasing her feet. She got filled up over and over again by those strangers -- with grand-pappy watching and pacing his masturbation.

Mr. Bertrand avoided to bring himself to the all-out bursting point, and he suddenly understood why. He felt beyond ashamed as he realized that a deep part of him actually hoped they would make him have sex with his beloved Pauline. She was his own flesh and blood, really his granddaughter to him, and yet... It was just too compellingly erotic to see her in the nude amid those soldiers and policemen. Used again and again on that dusty street in this shit-hole town so far south from Europe... With all those khaki jeeps and other cars blocking the boulevard. Even the way they were using his wife of fifty years added to his deranged state where he was very much like a monkey who refused to see or hear the true significance of all this, and who would never tell anyone about it. He wanted to fuck.

For the first time, Pauline realized how much the Congolese hated Belgium and white people. And yet, for all she knew, this here WAS her home country. She viewed herself as a white Congolese, and yet they kept yelling at her, their eyes filled with hatred as they called her a Belgian tramp as they repeatedly took their pleasure inside her. Her only comfort was to know that Congolese men very seldom practiced sodomy as they viewed this act as an abomination. She had read this when sneaking in her grand-pappy's private books.

At one point in her ordeal, she suddenly recognized the man on top of her. He had silver hair on his temples, silver woolly hair and wrinkles around his gone-crazy eyes. She had often seen him in the fruit and produce market where she accompanied her grand-mammy for some shopping in the all-black parts of Léopoldville, back when everything was normal and nothing was to be feared from those men whom she thought were good and kind.

Now she was being repeatedly hammered by what had already lurked under the surface. That cock of his, which she now had painfully deep inside her, had always been there within his cheap trousers whenever he saw her out on the street in this market where he sold some local variety of bananas. She couldn't bear his weight on her! His breath on her face! And his too-close presence. Far too close. Far too deep! And then he kissed her with lust and hatred, amid his hard panting. God it was too horrible! And she couldn't move! She was pinned with both arms held like a cross on either side of her. And they cheered and they laughed. They made fun of her cries, of her distress. Her only liberty was to think of Marcel, and even this made her feel ashamed, since she felt the handsome boy didn't belong in such a horror scene, not even as a comfort for her thoughts.

And this older man, the fruit merchant, was now asking her whether she was enjoying being fucked by his "good old banana". He presently came hard inside her, relieving himself in long bursting bolts and she nearly climaxed from the heat of his sides against her inner thighs. She clenched her feet inside her saddle shoes and they made fun of her distorted expression just as someone poured some cool liquid on her face -- she took his load while realizing her face was wet with banana beer.

"AAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAhhhh! Aaah, yes! This is good! Ooh so very good to rape Milady! Yes, I know you. I know you. And now you know me. I love your white tits, Milady!"

The man had already pulled his spent cock out of her. He was blissfully cupping, kneading and kissing her breasts. He did so until a burly Sergeant lifted him off her before propping her legs up and hurting her ankles as he brutally pulled her saddle shoes and bobby socks off her sensual feet.

An old Negro wearing a sun-faded grey suit picked up one of the shoes and closed his eyes as he smelled its inside -- he sank into some mystic trance, his nostrils dilated to their upmost as he kept smelling the white girl's shoe.

The stout-faced Sergeant had such thick shoulders he looked he could press 300 pounds overhead. He calmly kissed her bare feet and licked the sweat off them, his eyes speaking volumes about how he was enjoying this, while some other soldier was presently sucking Pauline's schoolgirl's tits. They were small and as such they seemed to concentrate more sensual force per square centimetre, the sensual density reaching its pinnacle at her brown nipples, now paling against the soldier's face.

"Let's go Sergeant! Screw her! Screw her! Screw this little white tramp!!!"

The Sergeant was naked from the waist down. Pauline was flattened by the smell of his musk and his aftershave as he grinned down on her. His hungry cock pointed at her as he kissed her ankles and darkened her lower legs with his caressing adoration while he kept calling her "sweet sweet Milady". It all felt so strange and horrific! Pauline closed her eyes, her face bitter and now bitterer under the sheen of beer as yet another savage kissed her and licked beer off her cheeks, while she thought of the boy she liked as she felt and loathed the burly man's tongue upon her feet, along with his hands paying homage to her legs.

She bizarrely felt both flattered and shamed, still more shamed than flattered by the attention she was getting from so many men at once. One of them sounded as one who was crying. He told her how sorry he felt for doing this, but he said, "you are so pretty, young Milady, that we just had to enjoy you like this. Don't be upset, young Milady, don't be upset. This is the work of God."

This was so much fun, to rape white girls right in front of their men! To finally humiliate those white pigs! Sergeant Makokumba now played with the damsel's breasts and loved the soft brown of her nipples and loved even more how they tasted. She was perfect and he was as hard as the horn of a rhino. Sure enough, the big strong Sergeant raped Pauline. How could he not? He pinned her propped-up legs under his arms, blasted his way inside her and began giving her the hard and heavy version of Africa. With her feet pointing up in the air above him.

Someone poured banana beer on her bare feet while the Sergeant kept hammering her as if he was just about to find the secret to eternal life deep inside her using his cock. She was in pain, with the beer's bitter coolness on her feet, presently kissed by some other Negro while others touched her wherever they could, and some pebble under her was torturing one tiny spot in her back while the relentless pounding reminded her of her role beneath the Negroes.

The hammering suddenly stopped. Pauline wondered whether she was dead. But then she felt the large Sergeant's hands upon her.

He turned her around and discovered the small fun of her curves as the afternoon sun shone on those buttocks that looked like a fine young prize. She was perfect indeed. He had her down on her knees and elbows and she cried from the pain from her knees on the harsh street asphalt, and yet she felt the relief in that tiny place of her back where she was free from that devilish pebble. It was now his hands on her back. His kisses and tongue strokes on her ass. Then it was his cock as it went right back inside her!

"Please please, go easy, Sir, you're too big! Too big! Too big!" Pauline said in Lingala.

Some men around her pleaded for her as they heard her speak Lingala like one of them. They asked the Sergeant, respectfully, to go easier on her, realizing that this white girl probably grew up in Congo. Belgian Congo, and there lay the problem.

Sergeant Makokumba, born in a tribal village in that far-off mountain gorilla country, now stooped over Pauline's protruding butt and kissed it again and again in absolute adoration. Her nubile softness fed his wicked erection. It was time to make his country great!

He had all leisure to learn the fine details of her curves as he took his pleasure inside her, enjoying every hard collision ever more as he expanded inside her and felt her grandfather's gaze on the very spot where his branch was exploring her off-limits pussy. Yes, this was fun! They should have done this years ago! He barely registered the pleas of his men asking for his clemency. He was too far gone in gorilla land. He grunted like one, filling the air with animal sounds that powerfully stated his utter satisfaction. These white young ladies were so good to fuck! He just couldn't get enough of this fine one. Especially now she was on all fours and he was bucking her. He finally slowed down, not to spare her, but to make his fun last.

When he came inside Pauline Bertrand, Sergeant Makokumba realized how impossible this copulation was. This should never have happened. He pressed himself against her, as if he wanted to protect her from the sun, or from the blast of an atomic bomb on Bikini Island.

With his face against her hair and his hands cupping and pressing her tits underneath, the clock struck the hour of change as he frantically pressed his lap against her bottom and pressured moans out of her. The high salvo of his final groans reached those puffy clouds high above as he erupted with a truckload of semen. Yes, this was real fun!

He pulled out and gave himself the pleasure of letting his deflating cock rub the skin of her butt and grace her curves with some meaningful smears of semen that seemed to smile under the sun. He watched this. Under his hands, amid the noisy jeers of the men, he felt the vibrations of her buttocks as the girl bitterly sobbed, her future destroyed.

"Young lady, you're just as good a fuck as the Italian nurse I raped in Eritrea back in '41!"

He indeed remembered this very well. As a young recruit he had fought as part of a Congolese battalion alongside Ethiopians and British. Under the unimpeachable command of Belgian officers. But he and the men of his platoon had struck gold in the storming of a town.

They had been the first men to stumble into a field hospital where they found ten or twelve young nurses, all of them white! Italian! He had seen the white Lieutenant take his fun inside one of the prettiest and all the men had joined him in what quickly became an unbridled, adrenaline-fed rape frenzy. He would never forget the sounds of tearing fabric when they ripped and tore their khaki-brown uniforms off and their shrill screams as they put knives upon their throat and used those blades to better tear those fascist uniforms off their natural charms. Those white tits! So ungodly good to suck! He had screamed in painful bliss when he filled up his first white girl. That girl was a raven-haired next-door kind of girl, and not even five feet tall. Small girl, big load!

Basking in his wartime memories, as well as his present post-climax joy, Sergeant Makokumba stood up and watched the ruined girl as she collapsed and lay down on her stomach. He spotted the other woman's husband, the brunette's husband and gave a loud order.

"Bring this man here! Bring him here so he can rape this girl along with us! White men love to see their women being raped by us Africans, ain't that right?"

While this was happening, the naked grandma was down beside the Peugeot, near a front wheel, where she had been raped some more by several young men. She was now being helped up on her knees by some smiling Negro who then threatened to kill her husband unless she was a good girl before proceeding to invade her mouth and rape her face.

As he told her to hold his monster cock with both her white-gloved hands, the 71-year-old lady felt shocked to be referred to as a "good girl" and as she tasted his Negro cock, she remembered this one shameful affair she had in United States back in the roaring 1920s. With a heavyweight prizefighter.

***

Out on the balcony all the way up on the seventh floor, some beer-drinking soldiers were waving at the men having their white-pussy fiesta down there on the street.

"Hey!" said one with a stentorian voice as he brandished white panties while looking down at the men from his 20-meter-high vantage point. "Hey! We're raping the daughter of the Soviet ambassador! We stripped her naked along with each and every Soviet tramp in their delegation! This is so much fun!"

Sure enough, several men who were tired of waiting their turns ran inside the hotel, curious of knowing what a Soviet girl would feel and sound like.

Another bunch of soldiers smoking by the hotel's main entrance let it be known that the famous singer, Caterina Valente was being gang-raped just inside in the lobby! Along with some young American ladies from a pop singing group! More men rushed inside! They had to see how white her skin really was and how dark her pussy hair had to be!

As a matter of fact, Armande was rolled around again and spread-eagled on the street dirt, where her delicate back felt some rough pebbles on this asphalt jungle while the black mob ran their hands and mouths all over her! Men commented on the lush charm of her pussy hair in Lingala and French. She felt some thick lips as they kissed her pubic mound, all of it covered by a solid carpet of dense black hair, while others kissed her everywhere from her feet to her face and hair. They brought her husband closer so he could see better. They commanded him to get down on his knees and masturbate, and much to Armande's mortification, Michel complied without hesitation. The pig!

Soon enough, she was again put to the cock-sword treatment and further Africanized as her pearl necklace now looked positively out of place above the jiggling roundness of her breasts as one vigorous butcher raped her and forced the whiteness of her legs to get acquainted with the slabs of fat of his ugly sides. The man holding her wrists together above her head started to kiss her hands. No spot of her was to be left untouched.

The balding, obese butcher had the time of his life as he sweat all over her. Others forced her to wrap her legs around her big fat lover while she felt this balding shit-looking man deep inside her. He soon exploded and showered her face with his spit as he screamed out his dying bliss and profusely ejaculated with a storm of semen and slobber out of his pudgy face and out of his exploding cock! She was crushed under all that fat, under all this... his filth! She wished herself to be anywhere else. She would even have preferred to be a prisoner in barracks alone with twenty young and athletic Negro soldiers. Anything but not THIS!

"We know you're enjoying this, Milady! Don't cry, don't lie! Say it! Say you love it when Congolese men gang-fuck you! Say it, Milady! Say it and you'll see, Milady. You'll feel better, Milady. SAY IT!" said the butcher's nephew, who was just a lad, a young butcher's helper who was well on his way to the same fat state as his moon-faced uncle. The youth looked like one who drank way too much banana beer. He sank inside Armande all the same and her soul gave out as she felt once more crushed under the weight of a jumbo-size Negro, this one younger.

As the fat lad began pounding her with his wide face so close to her, she saw the youth in his ugly features and knew he was younger than herself. She hated this. And yet she was assaulted by thoughts about how disturbingly erotic it felt to be used by a younger boy, one big enough to crush her under him and so strong he would all alone be enough to force her into absolute submission. The contrast between him and her acted like dynamite. Before long, her husband witnessed, from up close, his wife's orgasm under the jumbo kid. The big kid who relentlessly pounded her all throughout her climax as she filled the air with heated moans, her mouth wide open and her eyes rolling in horror!

"AAAhh AAAAh AAAAAAhh AAAAAAAAAAh... NNNNNNNNNNNNNNNNNNNNNNNNNNNNNNNNNNNNNNNNNNHHH!!!" the butcher helper uttered as he shuddered and shivered and his big fat cock detonated inside Armande DeVos.

"Now, Mister Husband, now! Go and take your wife so we can see how you Belgians do it!" the self-appointed Major barked at him, his jungle face wearing an evil grin as the fat lad was helped back on his feet by grinning, jeering men who even spat on Armande while showing her their half-hard cocks.

But Michel's side was killing him! He was in pain! He no doubt had broken ribs... And he was too far gone anyway. Kneeling by his young wife, he frantically masturbated and barely registered the barking order as he passed his edge and shot a generous load on her breasts!

"Ye're just a Negro girl! Take this, tramp-UUGHH UUGH UGGHHHHHH!!!"

Angry, Major Lutundula kicked Michel in the ribs with his field boot, right on the spot where he had seen him hold his side. The white man shrieked in pain and went down, while a kneeling Negro spread his load all over the young wife's tits, and then someone poured banana beer on those same tits amid renewed cheers and catcalls.

***

In the meantime, Madame Bertrand was being cummed on her face by another young man who had enjoyed her mouth while holding her silver hair and using her elderly head as a masturbatory ball. And her grandniece was having her pussy hair kissed and violated by one pair of Negro lips after the other. Those tongue strokes on her beloved Pauline were unthinkable!

Armande's husband had been woken up by the pouring of an entire bottle of banana beer on his head. He had been brought over near the almond-green Peugeot. He was now being held kneeling near Pauline while a soldier, after a glorious licking of her pussy, was deep in the act of giving her something to remember as he raped her while pinning her legs under his arms and he grunted like a mental case, sounding almost like an elephant in a rut as he drilled her deep and hard while her bare feet were pointing up at the sunny sky in an incredible display of youth's beauty.

Seeing her hoovering feet above the grunting soldier turned the husband into a horny beast. He almost forgot the pain in his left side as he watched this girl being raped. She looked strangely familiar to him.

After the soldier was done, Michel was made to watch as three more soldiers raped the naked girl, this time doggystyle with her asphalt-bloody elbows supporting her weight under the unforgiving barrage of cock strokes while the jeering troops enjoyed and commented on the protruding curves of her buttocks. One after the other, each of the men relieved himself inside the poor girl, who was now beyond crying.

The husband was finally pushed forward toward her, and in front of her grand-pappy, who suddenly recognized his neighbour, just as the husband himself realized this was Pauline Bertrand his neighbour's grandniece, he was made to kneel down behind this silent, cast down shadow of what used to be a happy girl. But he needed no prompting from his captors as his hands both landed on Pauline's butt and he couldn't help but enjoy this horror of feeling her nakedness in such a bad predicament.

Without any prompting, the husband, his trousers long undone, took his fierce erection and began tapping it on Pauline's young butt cheeks. He just couldn't help himself. He ignored the sharp pain in his side and ran his hands around those lovely contours, his gaze zeroing on her sweet butt crack as he wondered whether he was going to sodomize her and thus do something he liked, but his wife always refused to do, relying on her wanting a child as a reason for always doing it like God intended. Pauline looked behind with heavy eyes and then she shuddered as she recognized Michel DeVos!

"Michel! Michel! Don't do this! Please don't!" her grand-pappy screamed in rage as his neighbour took hold of his erection and shoved it right inside Pauline! Michel let out one primal scream as he felt her vaginal tightness closing in around him! This was his first time with a girl younger than 21 and he chose to do it proper and good, so he had opted for her pussy. He ignored the soldiers' jeers and mockery, ignored Mr. Bertrand's raging vociferation as he pressed Pauline's butt cheeks and felt his cock grow gigantic against her enclosing heat.

Michel hit her bullseye right where her butt curves met, and while her grand-pappy became louder and more enraged, he just grabbed the crease of Pauline's hips and enjoyed the revealed mystery of those butt curves he had often tried to guess under her skirt whenever he saw her in the apartment building where she lived next door. One day he had seen her in a swimsuit at a public pool. She was so adorable! Michel had only had sex once married, only last year, and he resented having gone through his lad's years without ever experiencing full-blown sex with a girl his own age, never making it past second base in a great many dates. And all he got was the girl's bitter change of mind and refusal on that one occasion he did hit second base... He had been nice and taken the girl back to her home. Yes, being nice! Only to sleep alone and masturbate!

Now! Pauline was now naked on all fours, and he was now inside her! Now was his time to do what he had always wanted to do with a maiden! Pauline no longer recognized her nice neighbour. On that day at the swimming pool, she had seen something strange in the way he looked at her. Now she knew what it was. Michel DeVos had always wanted her.

Pauline was indeed the girl next door. Petite with a juicy ass. Unable to restrain his glee, Michel, as he pounded her doggy-style in that dusty street amid many jeering Negroes, screamed out wide and said, "Aaaah oui! Pauline! Pauline! Enfin! Enfin! Je la viole! Aaah enfin! Enfin! Aahh aaah aaaahh ahh oui oui oui Aaah-aaah-aah! Que c'est bon! Que c'est bon de la violer! Ooh mon Dieu qu'elle est étroite, la petite!"

(Oooh yes! Pauline! Pauline! At last! At last! I'm raping her! Aaaah at last! At last! Aahh aaah aaaahh ahh yes yes yes Aaah-aaah-aah! This is so good! So good to rape her! Ooh God! She's so tight, the lovely little lady!)

"Espèce de salaud!" (You dirty pig!) his wife yelled at him from where she was once more being raped from behind on her bloody hurt knees, this time with her hands held together against the small of her back by the butcher's brother, another specimen of fat Congolese manhood. He was perhaps even fatter than his brother as the flabs of his loose belly jiggled above the violoncello-shaped curves of her ass, where his chocolate heaviness magnified Armande's pale beauty.

The fat Negro told Armande this was her lucky day, from his wide-open mouth wherefrom a profusion of frothing slobber dripped down on that ass he kept between his huge Negro hands as he pounded her into colonial oblivion.

The constant banging of Pauline's tight butt against him proved way too much and Michel turned those young buttocks in a blurring confusion as he finished off with a rush of frenzied strokes until he nearly forgot the pain in his side and filled the sky with his absolute delight, looking high up above as he gave the maiden his ultimate thrust and got obliterated by both the pain in his side and the atomic detonation inside her!

Pauline felt horrifically pretty as she heard his screaming relief! He felt so sincere in his lust that it must be true. She had no idea he had been wanting her so bad! Pauline always doubted about herself and her ability to attract boys. The eruption inside her was a heavy one. It shattered all social rules as the man filled up the girl next door right in front of his gang-raped wife. Pauline felt this abolishment of social rules. She felt dirty and base, and yet a dark part within her secretly felt some bastardized form of pleasure from being raped so savagely by her neighbour's husband. She had always felt a bit jealous of Armande. Michel was handsome and not too old.

The obese butcher's brother was nearly silent as he filled up Armande, his mouth more wide open than ever, his eyes exploding with surprise and joy as he positively fertilized her and his huge kneeling legs got all funny under him and he suddenly felt so light he could fly! This white girl was an enchantress! And he was the Troll raping her! She was magically white and pretty! Big Benoît ignored his fat wife's words of abuse as he blissfully wiped his spent cock on Armande's beer wet buttocks. Magically white!

Grandpa was made to stop yelling by being first punched in the face, then being brought near his young neighbour's wife by a pair of grinning Congolese civilians, where his old artillery was suddenly filled with a new life as he realized he was seeing Armande DeVos in the nude. With those ape-men kissing and touching her everywhere, their eyes filled with elation and disbelief. She was even more beautiful he had imagined! No matter how strong and creative his imagination was.

Mr. Bertrand watched as three more Negroes, all of them young soldiers with vigorous manhoods, took their turns behind Armande, whose loose hair was making fierce waves under the sunlight as each of the studs raped her while holding her wrists together in the small of her back. Each said it felt even better than the first time before compounding the danger for a brown baby.

Grandpa was then told it was his turn. He ignored Armande's suffering. Selfishly. He even ignored his own wife's plight as he felt her gaze on him and realized those bastards were making her watch! But he no longer cared. He was going to fuck his neighbour's wife and thus fulfill his favourite and most secret fantasy.

He was no longer yelling as he lived the kneeling pleasure of grabbing Armande's intimate curves. And then he powerfully, yes powerfully like he was young again, thrust himself hard and deep inside her! Armande DeVos! He was inside her! He didn't mind the sperm from the Negroes as he felt the squishy sliding inside her. The heat was insane! His hands were burning with lust as he held her hips and his morals got defeated by his urge to rape Armande!

He hated himself for doing this, and yet his body loved how she felt! He sank further down in debasement as he remembered how his neighbour exploded inside his grandniece. And there he felt it! A sense of disappointment as he realized he would have secretly enjoyed this even more if they had forced him to rape his own grandniece.

The visual music from Armande's curves and the sight of her loins proved so strong for the elderly man that he had no problem achieving his climax.

Armande heard his grunts, felt his hands on her, and she bitterly wept as she recognized his voice when he called her name and confessed he had always wanted to fuck her deep and good and hard against the counter of her kitchen, ever since that day he had helped her move some furniture.

It was with the blast of this revealed secret that she felt the tell-tale twitching of his elderly cock and she realized how strong he was as he groaned in absolute bliss and relieved himself in long, hard ropes of Brussels pudding while admiring the beauty of his naked grandniece where yet another soldier was banging her while his Negro mouth lost much slobber and his eyes were filled with unfathomable disbelief as the coloured man raped the white schoolgirl.

And then a surprise came! Unexpected, and more pleasing than horrific as the respectable elderly man, still wearing his heated suit but with dropped trousers, but having long lost his fedora, was made fun of while Armande was forced to lick all the semen coating off his spent cock while Negroes kept caressing her. Seeing those mud-brown hands on her intensified the pleasure of her mouth and tongue on his cock. She had a gentle touch too, and something told him she was perhaps secretly enjoying their preposterous predicament.

"You like older men, don't you, tramp?" the leader of the pack, one tall man wearing a Senior's Sergeant's chevrons on his sleeve told Armande and insisted she answered him and called him a Major. Those Congolese troops had gone completely mad! As he heard, the retired Colonel couldn't believe his ears!

"A Negro officer! That will be the day!" Mr. Bertrand yelled with the ultimate remnant of his natural disdain for coloured men. A sharp blow from Major Lutundula's pistol -- stolen from a beaten-up white officer -- made grandpa instantly regret his words of defiance as he fell on the asphalt with a bleeding temple before he drifted into unconsciousness as he remembered Armande's tight pussy and the explosion that it caused.

"No! Don't hurt him! Noooo, he's my neighbour!" Armande cried while yet another soldier took his turn, keeping her on her knees and elbows where she was best used.

"You like him, don't you? Say it! Say you love being fucked by all your neighbours! Because you're just a cheap tramp! Like all white women!"

"I... I'm just a ch-cheap tramp! And I... Yes, I like my old neighbour! He's s-strong!" Armande said tentatively while she was being used doggy-style by a smiling soldier who kept her wrists together in the small of her back, shortly before the young man growled and dumped his load of swimmers.

"Aaaahhhhhh... All for you, Milady! Milady you're... gorgeous! Please stay in Congo!" the young Negro said, panting, and his legs all wobbly behind her ass.

"So you like old men! Then, young lady, I have something for you!" Major Lutundula said as he once more produced his erect cock out of his uniform and knelt down before once again enjoying the fun of Armande, this time with her kneeling on all fours, with blood on her knees so she would suffer and pay for Belgium's crimes in Congo.

***

Using the key he had stolen from Michel DeVos, Lieutenant Loko turned on the power inside the blue Citroen and turned on the radio. Two Privates leant on the car and listened, while watching Major Lukulunda as he raped the young wife.

The radio announcer spoke about Caterina Valente being on a special tour in Congo to celebrate the new republic's independance. And then he played "Mes frères" (My brothers).



The soldiers smiled as they listened and heard her wonderful voice as she sang about a carnival dance with angels watching over all, guiding everyone's steps in a strange ball that would eventually lead everyone to heaven.

Lieutenant Loko nodded and tapped on the stearing wheel following the music. And then Private Limbombe realized...

"Hey! Did you hear what these boys said? This singer is right here in this hotel! In the lobby! Naked!"

"What are we waiting for?" said the other Private, his young cock already recovered from his buck-fests inside grandma and her young grandniece. "I have some good ammo in store for her! Let's go get her!"

But then a black car braked as it came out of the street corner and bumped into the blue Citroen, making all three men turn their head and look at the newcomers. A white driver! His wife! Blonde!

The white man shifted the gears in reverse, frantically moving the lever on the Chevy Bel-Air's column shift, only to roll back and bump into a military truck that blocked his escape. The driver frantically tried to break free, advancing and reversing and only bumping into both the Citroen and the light khaki truck as a squad of grinning soldiers stepped off it and soon encircled the 1957 Chevy! Jeeps blocked his way on his right-hand side anyway, and both vehicles were far too close for him to turn away from the trap.

Lieutenant Loko got out of the Citroen and took command of the action and ran into an argument with a Sergeant who noticed the Corporal's chevrons on his uniform while the privates proceeded to smash the Chevy's driver- and passenger-side windows before extracting both the husband and his wife, both of whom loudly protested in a strange tongue that Private Limbombe identified as being Flemish.

"Flemish! This this is why this wife is a blonde!" Loko shouted. "I've never been inside a blonde!"

"Then you'll have to wait, Corporal! I'm a Sergeant and I go first! We do her by rank ord--"

"I've just been promoted! I'm a Lieutenant! Didn't you hear? Officer ranks are open to us now! So I go first!"

"Watch how you speak to a superior, Corporal! All I see is those two chevrons on your sleeve! Where's your commission?"

"I... It was a field promotion and..."

"Nnnhhhhhh nnhhh aaaaaaaaaahh Neee!" the young blonde uttered, her wedding ring in plain sight as she tried to claw at the face of those men who dragged her away from the Chevy and groped her all over her light summer dress. The Privates had gone into action, led by a Corporal while their Sergeant argued with another Corporal.

The husband's protests and resistance was quickly dealt with by proverbial rifle butts. He had been an amateur boxer and done well in Belgium during the wartime years, slugging any champion the Germans threw at him, but during an actual street fight where there were no rules, he slugged the first assailant only to be hit from behind and then kicked right into his groin and fell down on the asphalt where he got properly hit and battered by several rifle butts while his much younger wife was screaming and protesting amid a group of lust-crazed Negroes whose eyes were devouring her and whose hands were violating those long golden hair they grew more and more fascinated with.

The young wife, one Julia Virasack, went into some sort of silent stupor as one beast of a soldier ripped her dress-top apart and two other Negroes grabbed her bra and pulled in opposite directions!

Her perky breasts with vanilla-pale nipples suddenly floated under the grinning Negroes and then the troops got into a frenzy as they called her a colonial tramp and tore her dress until she was completely topless. The Corporal was the first man to suck those adorable tits!

"Flemish girl! Flemish girl for Congo!" soldiers said as they held her arms behind her and forced her into a back-arching position where her breasts rode high as one got engulfed inside the Corporal's deep brown mouth. As she felt this foreign tongue circling around and slobbering her areola, Julia felt they had clearly done this before.

"Aaaaahhh! This is so much better than one of those tribal girls in Katanga!" the Corporal said as he licked her tits all over and his words confirmed to the shock-silent girl that indeed, those men were seasoned rapists, but now they were doing it to her, a white Belgian citizen! Congo had gone down to the dogs!

All the men wanted their crack at her tits, but the Corporal had other plans. "Later! Later!" he said as he shoved the 20-year-old wife against the Chevy's warm hood and bent her over while bunching up her pale dress with summer-time flower motives on it.

He looked at his Sergeant, who was on the verge of a fisticuff with a Corporal and two Privates who took the latter's side.

"Good!" thought Corporal Nyafé as he groped the wife's ass and felt how juicy those curves felt through her panties while he ordered his men to hold her tight in this perfect rape position. He had no time to lose. His Sergeant could be back any second and then his chance would be gone. He was going to be first!

Corporal Nyafé was a strong man born to a family of plantain farmers near Katanga Province. With his field-strong hand, he ripped the Flemish girl's panties and immensely enjoyed her outcry along with her husband's groaning where he lay in pain at the other side of the car.

"You and you! Go get the husband and bring him here! Make sure he watches!" Nyobé ordered as he quickly unzipped his tan uniform trousers and forgot to spit on his urgent cock.

"Corporal, you have the makings of a Sergeant!" a young Private said as he held the wife's dress bunched up and used the opportunity to grope her and familiarize himself with the feel of a blonde's buttocks. Corporal Nyobé shoved his cock against her unprepared entrance and the poor girl's shriek filled the place as Nyobé mercilessly strained and won a few millimetres of depth, causing her to shriek even louder and shriller!

The black and blue husband was brought to the good side of his car just in time to hear and see this. The wife's frantic screaming broke the argument and Sergeant Vunabandi was there and he asked the Corporal what the hell he thought he was doing? Lieutenant Loko quietly left the scene along with the two Privates as he suddenly remembered that singer Caterina Valente was there for his taking inside the hotel.

"I'm gonna kill you all!" the husband shouted in Flemish, only to be ignored by the rapists.

"Look, Corporal, we're a national army and we do things properly. By order of ranks! And the poor girl is in pain! Did you only slobbered your tool? No you didn't! You're a bloody fool, Corporal! Here, this is how it's done!"

As he spoke, the Sergeant made Nyobé move out of his way by merely glaring at him. Sergeant Vunabandi was only of average height and wasn't any bigger than a middleweight boxer, as the husband could see for himself, but his presence carried such authority that even exceeded the company's Captain's -- a white officer who would count himself lucky to fly out of Congo after his three daughters were "only defiled a little".

The Sergeant dropped his trousers while Privates held the sobbing wife in her fateful bent-over position against the black car's hood. He fingered her pussy with a calculated finger motion, causing the wife to bawl and the husband to yell bloody threats at him in his native Flemish. Whatever! Sergeant Vunabandi loved this blonde-girl pussy as he made her wet against her will, slowly but with a fateful certainty as she bawled on and began moaning, her pretty face resting on that hood with its two distinctive machine-gun-like sights adorning it. The Chevy's styled hood now looked black and ominous as the wife had no other choice than enduring those black fingers inside her.

"Now! Now, Corporal, she's ready to be fucked! See?" Sergeant Vunabandi said as he masturbated himself into a state of granite steadiness.

Then the Sergeant penetrated the blonde Flemish wife and his erection went all the way inside!

"Just like butter!" he said! "Now, Belgian girl! We're not going to hurt you! We revolted against your King and we're making sure you all understand the message. NOthing personal. This is just something that we must do! Nnghhh! Ooh! Ooh Milady! I love your pussy!"

Sergeant Vunabandi loved this! He felt the crazy throbbing of his cock inside her all the time he spoke. Loved the husband's foreign-spoken threats too. Now he went into a silent state where he brutally raped the wife, his face stern and his entire being bent on his duty to assert dominance over Belgium. He banged the blonde and enjoyed it beyond words. Her buttocks felt soft between his hands, her whimpers so lovely to hear as her face slid on her husband's car hood!

"AAARRH YAAAAAHRRRNNNNNNNNNNNNNNNGGHH! This is how you do it..." he uttered as he emptied his pent-up frustration by liberating himself inside the Belgian wife. "Now, Corporal, now take her!"

The beaten-up husband could only watch as Nyobé savagely tore the dress off his wife, stripping her naked barring her dark brown pumps, before proceeding to thrust inside her and grab her hips. Corporal Nyobé made sure he enjoyed his ejaculation to the very last drop at the end of a very pleasing slug-fest where her naked buttocks seemed to cheer for him as he watched the sun make her blonde hair sing for him. Wow! The blast floored him when he came!

Husband willing or not, the lovely blonde wife received the privileged kindness of being kept bent-over that now-familiar hood as each Private took his turn and showed her different styles and rhythms of pounding, ranging from gentle strokes meant to make it last to brutally hard thrusts that hastened and magnified the man's pleasure as per his preferences, without the slightest care for the blonde being Africanized.

In the forgotten Citroen, the radio kept playing and the music was heard through its open door. Ironically, the Poni-Tails were now being acknowledged for their remarked presence in Léopoldville as the radio played "Seven Minutes In Heaven".



As her ordeal seemed without end, as her sore pussy kept being violated and her face was kept sliding on that car hood, Julia heard the song and deeply regretted having learned English in high-school. She understood what seven minutes in heaven meant. As the gang-rape went on and on, she felt how twisted the song's meaning now was.

As if to further her suffering, the radio immediately replayed the same song, be it from a fan's urgent request or because someone goofed off at the radio station. Probably the latter. Such things would never happen in Belgium.

Sergeant Vunabandi raped her a second time. And so did Corporal Nyobé and half the dirty dozen. Last but not least, her husband would be "kindly invited" to show them how a Flemish couple did it. The forty-year-old husband was in an altered state at that point. He ended up fucking his wife the hardest he ever did, grabbing her hair and using it as reins as he quickly reached his edge and hit his jackpot. He screamed loud and wild as he couldn't believe how painfully amazing it felt to fill up his wife after being so shamefully cuckolded. She deserved it!

"I'm sorry, Julia-AAAAOOOWWNNNNNNNNNNNNghg uuuhrrr!!!"

Julia came very close to a climax as her husband death-gripped her buttocks and ragingly pushed inside her while dumping his load.

Sergeant Vunabandi and his men clapped their hands and cheered them. This was a fun demonstration of white-on-white sex, but now was the time to put the young blonde down on her knees and slap her face with a dozen black cocks. The fun was only getting started.

***

The open-sky orgy went on, unabated. Soldiers left along with cock-satisfied policemen, some of them going inside the Memling hotel. But fresh soldiers and civilians never failed to show up as the word got around about this lovely brunette wife and one treasure of a schoolgirl who got caught in front of the Memling hotel. Not to mention the Flemish blonde whose nakedness was publicly available. All Negroes were welcome to try her out for free!

Policemen came along. Not to make arrests. Much less talk about the weather as the sun began its descent toward the western sky and slowly but surely, the shadows cast from the buildings and the lampposts grew longer and the daylight started to subtly fade as the afternoon began to turn into early evening.

More men came. More brown cocks. More colonial semen for Pauline, her grand-mammy and Armande. More for Julia, who was now kept floating within a circle of Negro soldiers and civilians who all took their turns between her legs. All this near the stopped Chevy. Her golden triangle of perfect pussy hair was acknowledged, kissed and face-pressed as well as baptised with banana beer.

At one point during all this, the Citroen radio played Chanson d'Amour by Art & Dotty Todd...



European girls were great to fuck! Such words never got tired. To feel their pussy. To drink. To shoot a blanket of hot stickiness on their faces, on their bosom and sometimes on their butt, their legs or even their feet. It all felt so surreal to these men who were used to take orders from white men. Now they were fucking their wives. The role felt strange to them. Under their façade of joy-filled roughness, they were unsure about exactly how to fulfill it. The simplest route was a white girl's pussy. Just fill her up. No questions asked.

The daylight faded further and the orgy gave no sign of abating. The brute Sergeant came again inside Pauline. While Armande was being forced to climax in front of her husband after some young civilians, their happy faces lighted by mischievous grins, had found out that fingering her while gently sucking her breasts was something her body just couldn't resist.

Men brought food and more beer. Banana beer got poured on Pauline's breasts to be sucked off. Her grand-pappy got "kindly invited" to suck off Pauline's beer-soaked breasts and he felt just as shamed as his cock was hard. Then they gave him no choice but to choose the position he was going to fuck her in.

"I'll... I'll go on top of him!" the brave young girl said as she looked down, unable to meet the blue eyes of her grand-pappy. Grandma screamed in horror and rage, but she was presently silenced by newcomers who decided it would be fun to make this white grandma suck their dongers, understanding they only had to threaten to kill her loved ones to make her obedient.

Armande was now being given the honour of being butt-raped with her face on her husband's car hood. She screamed like a banshee as her pain reached something far beyond any pain she could have imagined as the well-endowed man behind her did something a Congolese man very seldom did. He sodomized her, feeling the tightness of her anus and telling her this increase in punishment was well justified. But his real motive was all about him. He had felt curious as to know what it would feel like to shove his cock up a white girl's ass and feel the fibres of her rectum. Now he knew and he felt terrified about hell and eternal damnation as he couldn't believe how strong this pleasure was!

While the butt-hurt tragedy was unfolding, while the sun turned into a bright orange disc in the serene dusk and the streetlights were turned on, Pauline straddled her grand-pappy and put his hands on her boobs, always avoiding his gaze as she then took his hard cock and gently caressed it -- with the Captain Békélungo and other soldiers watching along with civilians.

Someone had brought a tam-tam and began playing it just as Pauline was lowering herself onto her grand-pappy's cock. Mr. Bertrand uttered one long groan as she impaled herself on him and began a gentle dance of softly moving tits above him, caressing his white-haired torso as she began to move with more impetus. She gave herself with a weird, guilt-loaded willingness as she told herself she did it to save him, but she also realized that a part of her had always felt a bit curious about sex with her grand-pappy.

Like a modern Electra, she further moved herself and began to bounce herself on him, feeling every fibre of him inside her, as he hesitatingly began to caress her legs, then her hips. Before going higher and meeting her navel region as she arched her back, offering a pair of small high-riding tits as her eyes met the twilight sky. She kept bouncing in rhythm with the tam-tam. She barely registered the whimpers from the pain-riddled wife who was getting sodomized against the dark blue Citroen. She heard the man as he hit his high finish, but she was too sucked in by her own adventure and her own perils.

She moaned loud and hard as her grand-pappy finally gathered the moral debasement of cupping her breasts and as he felt the gentle imprint from her kind nipples, he knew he was lost into eternal damnation! She stooped down upon him, and the soldiers cheered as she kissed her grand-pappy. It was a hot lover's kiss, and he kissed her back and let the sperm-marred whiff of her scent take his nostrils as he cupped her butt with both hands and she moved herself in a way that deepened their coitus.

He felt hot and throbbing inside her. She was forced to like his hands on her butt as he held them like loaves of forbidden flesh, young. Too young. She felt so vast and wide under his hands! It was as if her butt had swollen the same as her breasts, such was the unreal fantasy of her flesh come to baby-soft life. He couldn't do this! She was the daughter of his long-dead niece! And yet he couldn't help himself. It was a cruel twist of fate that had allowed his darkest, secret-most fantasy to become a reality.

Pauline kept pressing herself on him, kept kissing him and she moaned like forbidden hell-fire inside his mouth, gently licking his thin white moustache at some point as she kept impaling herself and feeling his warmth. She felt the urgent throb of his erection inside her as he was now frantically holding her butt and driving her against him in short and fast motions while he kept thrusting his hips up so he could feel her deeper. He kept going, his fingers frantic and sunk into the baby skin where she usually sat, and she kept kissing him, moaning ungodly fire in his mouth, putting some spit into the mix as her tongue mingled with his and it was like oil on fire!

He realized there was no coming back and he whispered, "I love you, I'm sorry..." as he lost all sense of reality and his cock burst inside her and he screamed right into her kissing as she felt his twitching inside her and his ropes of semen erupted where she was to be fertilized. As he ejaculated, Mr. Bertrand remembered how those niggers had gang-raped her, and how his neighbour had also raped her. It made his ejaculation only more intense and more crushing as she gently bit his ear and she shivered all over him.

"I'm sorry too, grand-pappy," the girl said, panting when she came out of her orgasm.

***

A naked woman was being brought outside the hotel, near the roadblock. And Mr. Bertrand heard her pleas as she begged them to let her go in Italian, her voice a delight to hear. She was being carried by grinning Negroes who kept mocking her. Lieutenant Loko was there. His smile speaking volumes about the pleasure she gave him.

"Sorry, Missie," said one Corporal amid them, his beige shirt loose and open on a well-toned chest. "Sorry, Missie, but we have to see how white your breasts are under the streetlights!"

And as she was brought nearer, Mr. Bertrand recognized her. Caterina Valente. The alluring athleticism in her legs told him of her dancing prowess. The artistic grace of her hair and the pretty features of her face were unmistakable, even now when she looked utterly exhausted with dry crusts of semen on this Italian singing face of hers.

The dark triangle of velvety hair down there confirmed the Italian heritage of her skin and the fact she was indeed as naked as when she was born. She was presently pushed from one man to the other, and each Negro caught her fall and pushed her into the arms of a fellow soldier or a fellow countryman wearing street-clothes. All the Negroes smiled with teeth that spelled Caterina's nightmare as they tossed her from one man to the next where the grand-pappy could see her beauty in the way she moved like a song, even in her present exhausted, debased state. Nothing was ever vulgar about Caterina Valente.

As he drank her beauty with unbelieving eyes, the elderly man loved everything about her from the disheveled sensuality of her hair to the daintiness of her bare feet. The street dirt marring her soles made him even more eager to taste those feet. He realized he was about to watch her being gang-raped by those Congolese men. With shame, he realized he secretly wanted to see this. With marvel and disbelief, he realized he was going to have another erection.

Caterina Valente filled all men's eyes and gave the most tired one a compelling motive to be hard again. For her! Naked under the street lamps, amid primal sounds of tam-tams as the cool evening air kissed her skin and made her nipples erect under Congolese lips. Captain Békélungo was the first to pay a wet tribute to her Italian-raspberry nipples who seemed fit to flavour-up some whipped creamed served at The Ritz. Except she was being served in front of the Memling. On the worst day to be in Léopoldville... or the best day according to one's skin colour.

It was an evening unlike any other. As Venus showed the warm white glow of her far-away sphere in deep sapphire heavens, as she saw a blonde being kept floating amid a whole ring of those men, Caterina realized she was never going to look at a starry sky the same way ever again.

TO BE CONTINUED.

[Blue]

@HistBuff
The day never ends, and new victims keep arriving!
It's just a shame that the Congolese don't like sodomy. Although they do admire the white women's asses.
But maybe one of the white men, whether grandfather, husband, boyfriend, etc., will get the urge to take one of the women anally?

[DeckerDary13]

Another classic!

[HistBuff]

Another classic!

Thanks!