A Refugee Finds Healing

There was a knock on the door. Sandy had phoned and said he was on his way over, something he wanted to talk about. I was always worried when Sandy called with something to talk about. Sandy was a "do-gooder." Not a busybody do-gooder, but the real deal. He helped with causes. He volunteered, and was prepared to do the sort of things others wouldn't do. Whenever Sandy had something to talk about, it usually meant I ended up doing stuff. Carrying furniture down at the community centre. Help at the old folks home. Running around a park, sponsored, dressed in some strange costume. Delivering leaflets around the streets. In the end, most of the tasks he found for me to do were perfectly enjoyable, and I felt I'd done something fulfilling and worthwhile. Normally I was happy to go along with Sandy as long as it fitted around work. Having said that, working from a workshop in the back garden making bespoke furniture meant I had a fair bit of flexibility. But this time the phone call had sounded more urgent, more serious...

I let Sandy in, shaking hands as we normally did when he saw each other, then led him into the sitting room of my small house. We chatted a few moments, but then I smiled. "Okay Sandy, what do you want me to do?"

"Mike, this is serious and important. We chatted up at the centre, and could think of no-one else who could help." His voice was suddenly earnest - he meant it. "Was reluctant at first to dump you with this because it is going to cost. Going to cost you some money and probably your reputation a bit as well. Do you want to hear?"

This did seem important. "Tell me what it is before I say yes."

Sandy smiled. "Look, this is different. You want to say no, and we'll understand and won't hold it against you. And if you say no, we'll find another solution. But I hope you won't." I leaned my head to the side and raised an eyebrow, as if to say, go on, lay it on me. What do you want.

Sandy continued, far more hesitantly than he normally would. "Well, I've been helping up at the refugee place, and there's this person we've been dealing with..." It took Sandy about ten minutes to explain. There was this woman who's application had been turned down, from a country in Africa, racked by civil war. It was odd - she had been turned down on a technicality, but as the country was unsafe they wouldn't return her there forcibly. She had escaped after being horribly treated. Her husband killed. The women of her village raped, as she had been. She had walked for two weeks to get over the border, and get a plane to somewhere - organised by some traffickers. Now she was here. Traumatised. Terrified. And homeless, hungry, with no income. The refugee place was helping with an appeal, but she needed somewhere to live, indefinitely, who would feed her. Would I do it? There was no-one else anyone could think of to ask.

It was a huge ask! I asked questions, and was promised that she was honest, that the asylum place had briefed her about how she should be if they could find her a place. That at some stage it would come to an end but it could be months. That they would remove her if there were problems. And yes, she spoke English pretty well. Truth be told I knew I would say yes before asking the questions - always up for something different.

In the end I agreed - a few days at first, and they had to check with me. Sandy smiled. "Do you want to meet her - she's out in the car."

I smiled at the cheek. "You sneaky bastard! You knew I couldn't say no. Okay, bring her in."

Sandy disappeared for a few moments, then brought in this woman, introducing her as Maria. I was dumbstruck. I was expecting a victim, someone bowed and scarred by age and experience. Maria was a goddess! A black goddess. She stood 5ft 10 inches - as tall as me, and was slim, with long wavy black hair. She was quiet. Respectful. Her face lit up when she smiled, although she was clearly very nervous.

After talking for half an hour, although Maria was pretty monosyllabic, I spent a few moments showing her around the house, showing her the spare bedroom which she could have, telling her about what I did - that I worked from home making "bespoke" furniture in my workshop, and she could help if she wanted, as well as come out on deliveries. Sandy had fetched her luggage which was in a suitcase and two bin bags, and put it in her room. He then left.

Maria quickly disappeared to her room, and seemed to be sorting things out. She accepted a drink, she showered, and I heard nothing from her until the next morning. She appeared as I was eating breakfast. I asked if she wanted some thing. She nodded and said nothing.

Truth be told, that was how the next few days continued. I put a lock on her bedroom door to help her feel safe. I got her helping with some of the chores about the house. We chatted briefly over meals, and I learnt a little about what had happened to her since she had arrived in the country, and a little about her family, and her fears for them back in her homeland.

It was on about the third night, at evening meal, I asked her to stay and watch the television with me - that she didn't need to hide in her room. Suddenly she exploded! "Is it tonight that you are going to rape me? All you men are the same. You just like to get women like me and make us prisoners and use us for your lust."

I was stunned. "What????"

"It's why you and your friend set this up." Maria was suddenly in an emotional rant. "You don't have a woman in your life so you trap a woman like me so you can use me. You are a monster. It's what all you men are like..." The rant went on for several minutes, with me being called a series of names, accused of all sorts of things I wouldn't think of, and my "integrity" greatly challenged!

I was furious. "SIT DOWN," I yelled at her, pointing to a chair. I had to repeat the order twice before she sat. "BE QUIET." She went quiet, sat, but looked terrified. "Now you listen to me," I ordered.

Her eyes were looking hard at the ground. I continued "You are right - I don't have a woman in my life because my wife was killed by a drunk car driver nine months ago. And you are right - I do look at you and think you are a beautiful lady. You are a stunningly beautiful lady. But hear this..." I paused. "I have talked to Sandy about you. He has told me a little of what you have been through and it has hurt you terribly. I cannot help that. But I have committed myself to look after you, to feed you, to help you. And I will do that. And I am a man of honour. I will not touch you. Do you understand? It won't be easy, but you are here for sanctuary, and sanctuary you will have. You have to trust me." I stopped. There was a pause, and Maria stood and went to her room silently.

The next few days continued in the routine we developed. She did start to watch a little television with me, and was a help around the house. We got her some new clothes, practical clothes such as jeans and t-shirts - until now she had only worn African clothes. Sandy called once or twice to see how things were going. It was Sunday evening, a week or so later, when I was relaxing after cooking our tea, that Maria came and sat opposite me.

"Mike," she said quietly. "I want to say sorry. Sorry that I was so horrible to you. I too have lost my partner so know a little of the pain you feel. And sorry - you have been honourable up to now, and I have begun to hope you are always honourable."

In the pause I responded."Maria, we men are not always honourable in our thoughts. You are a beautiful woman, but we try to be honourable in behaviour."

Maria burst into tears. She sobbed for a couple of minutes before speaking again. "How can you find me beautiful? I am ugly and horrible and filthy and no man can possibly want me."

"What do you mean, honey?" She sobbed again and I remained quiet until she might hear me. "Why not tell me what you mean?"

Maria controlled her sobbing before she began to speak. "The first time it was in our village. The rebels came. They took all of the women. Including me, and my sister and my mother. They stripped us in the bush. Then they grabbed whoever they wanted. And we had to watch. I saw two men take my mother. One in her mouth, one..." She paused. And then three of them one after the other took my sister, until she was crying. And my friends. And then it was my turn. They said I must be a princess. And lots of them wanted me. I remember everyone. Seven of them took me between my legs, stuck their things in me. And four of them made me suck them, and they came in my mouth. Then two of them took me..." she paused before continuing. "...took me in my bottom."

I remained silent and allowed Maria to continue. "My husband made me feel good, but these men made me feel terrible, and it hurt. And then I was taken by a group of them and had to march with them, and they used me every night. For two weeks they used me. Then I was rescued by the government army, and they took me as well. Until my mother told them I was on their side, and my husband was fighting with them. And he sent money for me to get away, and I went to the capital and my mother texted me to tell me he was dead, but gave me an address of an agent to get me out of the country. And then I saw him, and he would only help if I paid, and did things with him and his three friends."

I still remained silent as she told her story, a story she spoke amongst sobs. "And then I got out, and came here. But I am so filthy. No man will want me now. After all those men have been in me. I don't deserve anyone to care for me."

At last she stopped speaking and fells into sobs. It looked like so much pain and suffering released. So much self-loathing. She seemed to cry for minutes, before she calmed down, but kept her eyes looking at the floor.

I thought I should say something so tried. "Maria, when I look at you I don't see what those men did. I see a beautiful, sexy, intelligent, wonderful person."

"Thankyou, Mike" she whispered, in an almost disbelieving voice. She stood and disappeared to her room.

Our lives continued in our routines. I found a couple of groups Maria could join, through which she found some friends locally. She helped around the house, cooked meals, enjoyed helping deliver some of the furnishings I made for people. We did watch the television together more, but she still spent a lot of time in her room, and on her mobile phone! We did chat, and she was very keen to chat about my family, and my wife who had died. I know people gossiped about us living together, but my conscience was clear and I held my head high. To be honest it was difficult at times because Maria was a "goddess" and turned heads wherever she went. However, I was very careful to behave appropriately and allow her to feel comfortable living in my house, and to live without feeling threatened. It was two weeks later that changed.

This time it was Saturday evening after we had eaten. We had washed up and sat down. Before I could turn the television on, it was clear Maria was agitated and wanted to say something. She blurted it out. "Mike, do you think I am clean? After what happened? How can I know?"

I was rather taken aback. "Course I do. Why do you ask?"

Maria was quiet for a moment. "It is so hard to believe. I can't believe anyone would think I'm clean. Or would ever want to touch me. How can I know?"

I stumbled around trying to answer, realising this wasn't any criticism of me. The trouble was, after what she had been through, words weren't enough. She needed some more concrete proof. I told her I would make some coffee, and then come back to chat some more, if she wanted. It gave me time to think.

I did think, and decided that she did need to know, somehow. I took her coffee, and put in the sugar - we always joked that she wanted so much sugar, and yet was a slim as she was. I sort of opened the conversation. "Maria, I've been thinking about it. Do you think I am an honourable man." I used the word "honourable" - it was an important word in her culture.

She didn't pause. "Of course you are."

"Okay," I paused. "I'm going to suggest something. If you say no then we must forget it. Are you happy with that?" She nodded, so I continued. "I promised I would never touch you. If you let me off that promise I will show you how clean I think you are."

Maria realised it was more than appeared, and sat quietly. At last she whispered. "Yes Mike - I need to know if I am clean."

I paused, then moved to sit beside her on the settee. I reached out my hand and caressed her neck softly. She didn't seem to mind, but didn't move. I moved my head closer to her then let my tongue touch her neck, and slowly lick her. Again she didn't move as I moved to the other side of her neck, then her front above her blouse. As I ran my tongue over the top of her neck she seemed to relax a little. With her relaxing a little, I moved my hands to the top button on her blouse and began to undo it. Still she didn't move, so I slowly undid as many buttons has I could, revealing her lacy white bra, which looked really hot against her black skin. I let my tongue go a little lower between her breasts, and run over her beautiful smooth skin. As I did, I pulled her blouse open, lowered my head beneath her breasts, and run my tongue over her skin there.

After a few moments I pulled away and whispered. "Let's go somewhere more comfortable. Let's go to my bed." It was clear by now that Maria was enjoying the treatment, so scrambled to her feet and followed me up the stairs.

I led Maria into my bedroom, removed the blouse, went behind her and undid her bra, let it fall away, then lay her on her back on the bed. AS I did I saw her breasts. They were stunning, not too big, rounded with beautiful black nipples on each. I knelt on the bed beside her and placed my tongue on her neck. I let my tongue go lower, then circle first one breast, then the other, then circle in ever decreasing spirals until I took her nipple in my mouth and gently sucked, hearing her moan softly as I did so. For a few moments I sucked and nibbled, then transferred to her other nipple giving it the same treatment. Both nipples seemed to be rock hard.

I allowed my tongue to go lower then heard her giggle as I thrust my tongue into her belly button. As I did I reached my hands to her waist and unbuttoned her jeans, then lowered the zip as far as I could. I moved a bit up the bed again and whispered to her to help me remove them. She lifted her bottom, and I pulled the jeans down her legs, then off over her feet. I looked at her for a moment, still wearing her white lacy panties, stunningly sexy against her dark body.

After I'd dropped her jeans off the bed, I ran my tongue over the inside of her ankle, then slowly up to her knee. I moved to her other ankle and did the same. I eased her legs apart, and ran my tongue up the inside of her thigh, stopping about 3 inches from her crotch. I could smell her sex, see a damp patch on her panties. Again I transferred my tongue to her other leg, and ran my tongue up the inside of her thigh, this time going a little higher until my nose was touching the crotch of her panties. The musk of her smell was divine, and I allowed my tongue to nuzzle the crotch, feeling her pussy through her panties. Maria just seemed to lie there, relaxed, not objecting.

I lay between her legs which she had spread wide, allowing my tongue to caress the naked skin at the top of her thighs, running my tongue over the crotch of her panties, tasting the warm juices they had soaked up. I heard her whisper, almost moan. "Mike, please take them off."

I moved away from her a little, looped my fingers in the side of her panties and pulled them down and off her feet. I paused to look at her. Utterly stunning. Beautiful black body. Neat but inviting pubic hair. Long shapely legs. I looked at her pussy, glistening and moist, a hint of red between the puffy black lips, the lips leading to the little nub that was her clitoris - I was feeling cramped in by trousers: hard thinking that soon my tongue would be exploring between her legs. I held her ankle again, and put my tongue to her skin, and ran my tongue slowly up the inside, slowly past her knee, until I was just short of her pussy.

I stopped for a moment, savouring her smell again, before slowly edging higher and suddenly thrusting my tongue hard and as deep as I could into her sopping cunt. It was wonderful as she groaned out loud in arousal. I paused for a moment feeling her body buck against my thrust, before swirling my tongue inside her. I knew she wasn't far away, so quickly moved my tongue to her clit and flicked it softly. She cried out, groaning "more" as her hips thrust upwards. I flicked her clit again, then began to swirl my tongue until her moaning was continuous, then licked faster and her body shook, her hips bucked up and down, and she almost screamed in orgasm.

I moved my tongue away for a few moments until the orgasm had subsided and she slumped back on the bed. When she had I started again with my tongue, exploring the lips of her pussy and sucking them with my lips, nibbling them with my teeth. I let my tongue plunge inside her, tasting her. I explored, and probed until she was getting aroused again. I returned to her clit and flicked that, then back to her pussy, tasting that. As she moaned more and more, I spent more time working on her clit, pushing two fingers in her pussy, until I felt her body shuddering again, as she moaned out loud her second orgasm in quick succession.

After she had finished I lay beside her on the bed, and she looked to me and smiled. I whispered to her. "Does that prove to you I don't think you are dirty."

She smiled again. "I don't feel dirty. But I think you are a dirty man! I think you are very kinky man, Michael."

I smiled back. "Don't worry - I have only just started!" As I said that I moved my hand back between her legs, and between the lips of her pussy, plunging inside. She made no effort to stop me. I pulled out and put my fingers in my mouth, sucking off her juices. I smiled again. "Tastes fresh and perfect to me!" She screwed her face up in reply, as I put my fingers back in her pussy, then withdrew them and put them to her mouth, pushing gently inside so she could taste herself. "Taste nice?"

She screwed up her face and whispered again: "You are kinky, Michael." She sucked my finger, perhaps to make me happy, rather than for her own pleasure.

I smiled at her again. "Maybe I am kinky. But I haven't finished yet. Why don't you lie on your stomach." She smiled and turned on to her stomach, probably thinking I was going to massage her back. I had other ideas. I moved my tongue to just above her gorgeous curved ass, and caressed her in the small of her back. I placed my hands on her ass, and began to lower my tongue down towards her crack, slowly licking and caressing all the way. As I got lower I gently pulled the cheeks of her ass apart my tongue caressing along the join.

I stopped as I saw her cute rose, before moving my tongue to it and caressing it, feeling the wrinkles around it. I traced my tongue along some of the wrinkles, before thrusting it into the hole itself, just managing to get my tongue into the ring which gripped it so tight. I gently pushed my tongue in and out of her, curling my tongue so she felt it moving more. As I did so, I moved one of my hands so my finger was resting on her clit, and gently swirling. She moaned loudly, then again as I eased my thumb as deep as I could into her hot and wet cunt, flicking it side to side as my fingers swirled on her clit, as my tongue was thrusting as deep as I could in and out of her ass. Within seconds her body was thrusting up and down, within seconds her body was shuddering again in orgasm, her asshole clenching on my tongue as her ass lifted into the air.