African Skye

Opening her eyes Skye Johnson knew who and where she was for the first time in days.

She was in Africa, in a small village working as a missionary. And she had caught some horrible bug.

The room in her private hut was dark and she felt hollowed out, but she was happy to feel whole and sane.

Lying still for a moment she reviewed her body and found she could move. Finally she had the strength to sit up. Pulling back the covers she smelled the stench of her illness wafting up at her. She had been confined to this bed for a week and was rank with sweat and vomit and other fluids she didn't want to think about.

She needed to bathe. Desperately.

Feebly she dressed herself and set off in the predawn gloom to go to the river and clean herself.

She had been here in Africa for a little over two weeks and had two more to go. Her great rebellion before going off to college.

Skye was eighteen years old and had been home-schooled by her overly protective parents. She had never had a boyfriend and never been kissed. It hadn't been a priority for her. She was focused on becoming a doctor and changing the world.

Her parents had thought her insane when she told them her plan to come to Africa to be a missionary. But Skye knew this was where she belonged. The privilege she came from meant she owed the world some true humanitarian work. At least that was how she saw it.

Today, however, she was regretting her decision greatly, she felt terrible.

Keenly aware that her white skin, blonde hair and blue eyes were a novelty here, and that as an American she was considered sexually promiscuous she made great pains to walk a long way from the usual bathing areas the locals used.

Her mother had raised Skye to be modest, yet part of her was aware that she was pretty. She wasn't blind. She saw the way men looked at her, and her fearful mother had been terrified that Skye was going to be raped the second she landed in Africa.

Now that Skye was here in the village she smiled to think of her mother's fears. There were almost no men in the village. Old men or young boys were all that remained. The rest were off fighting in the endless war.

The rules were that she should never leave the village alone, but no-one else was even awake when she finally found herself clearheaded after six days of delirium. She had been sleeping so much and sick for so long that all she wanted was to wash the filth from her skin. So she had gathered her things and wandered down the river to find a secluded spot to wash the stench of illness from her skin.

The sun had been creeping slowly over the horizon as she slipped into the cool refreshing water. Skye knew enough to choose a spot with fast moving water, so no unwanted parasitic visitors would invade her body. The water was cool from the night, but the air was already growing warm and the sun was not yet fully over the horizon.

The bliss as she scrubbed her skin and washed her hair had been heavenly.

Days of illness had carved the baby fat from her limbs and torso and her already athletic frame seemed too skinny to her now.

Skye shaved her legs and had the urge to go running, her favorite self-indulgence, and one she had been unable to do for the last week, but she was still too weak.

She shaved her armpits and gloried in massaging soap into her skin. Using tiny scissors she trimmed her golden pubic hair back to a manageable level. Her illness left her abdominals showing through her skin, and she could feel that her breasts, already small, were even smaller. Skye hated how small her breasts were. They had been a B cup, barely, but now she thought them to be an A. She had sighed as she rubbed her diminished mounds with soap.

Then she heard gunfire coming from the village.

Panicked she stayed in the water, huddled under the surface, her face only out because she had to breath.

The gunfire went on for a little while, sporadic bursts of automatic weaponry, screams and painful cries splitting the air.

Then profound silence.

Skye knew next to nothing about the politics of the situation in this region of Africa, other than there were numerous tribes here who were all fighting for supremacy over the rich resources available in the mountains.

There were so many little tribes grouped together in ever-changing allegiances that even those from America who did try and follow the political lines were confused. Skye however made no such attempt. She was here as a good Christian girl to lend aid to the women and children whose lives were being torn apart by this war.

Shivering from fear and cold Skye badly wanted to put some clothing on, but that would mean scrambling naked out of the water while enemy soldiers were nearby.

Skye had scoffed in her head at her mother's fears of Skye being raped, but now that she was near a battle, naked and so very alone she suddenly worried that her mother might have been right.

Slowly Skye got out of the water and tip-toed to her clothes. She quickly dried off and put on her panties, bra, shorts, t-shirt and with great relief her socks and hiking shoes.

Fully clothed she felt infinitely better.

She pulled her long blonde hair back into a ponytail and gathered her towel and toiletries into her bag and crept back toward the village.

The ominous silence that blanketed the area terrified her. Even the many strange animal cries and insect hums she was starting to get used to were missing in the wake of the gunfire.

Skye crept back along the road that meandered through the thick jungle, back toward the village when she suddenly came face to face with a group of armed men.

She didn't know them, but she didn't know any men of fighting age. These men were armed with a motley collection of rifles and machine guns, dressed in all manner of clothes from t-shirts to fatigues and she had no way of knowing if they were hostile or friendly.

The two parties stood staring at each other for a second, eyes wide, then one of the men raised an empty hand and gestured toward Skye while speaking in the musical, but unintelligible to her language of the land.

The men all began to surround her, guns held low. They were glancing outward assessing the threat in the surrounding jungle. Skye was terrified. Who were they and why were they surrounding her. She stepped to one side as if to let them pass, but they adjusted to keep her in the middle of the group. There were six of them and she felt flushed and sweaty thinking about them caging her in their midst.

Impulsively, before even she knew she was going to do it, Skye bolted.

She ran away from the village down the road deeper into the jungle.

Skye was fast. She had been an avid runner her whole life. She loved the feeling of her body moving through space as fast as she could make it go, but today there was no pleasure, just pure fear.

Sprinting through the dark jungle she forced herself to hit a pace much faster than her illness-ravaged body wanted her to go. Her lungs protested, her legs trembled and her head swam with the urge to faint. She hadn't eaten anything solid in days.

Before she had gone a mile she fell down exhausted.

There was no-one immediately behind her.

As soon as she could Skye crawled into the dense verge beside the road and hid herself in a thick covering of shrubs and drooping leaves.

Seconds later she heard someone running down the road.

A man sprinted past her hiding place, his pace excellent. He was a runner too; she could see that right away.

Soon another passed. Then two more.

Then came a pause and finally the last two men jogged along the road her way.

Skye had found some strength now and hoped they would move past her so she could jog back to the village and see who was still alive.

But they didn't.

It was her bright golden hair that gave her away. It was too foreign here and one of them spotted it gleaming in an errant spill of sunlight as the day dawned bright and clear.

He shouted for his companion to stop and pointed right at Skye.

The two men stood on the road and looked where she hid. One spoke firmly and gestured for her to come out. She was too terrified to comply. The other one came in after her.

He gripped Skye's arm in a tight hold and helped her to her feet, then pulled her from the jungle and out onto the road.

Then the two of them stood looking at her with blank stares. What were they thinking?

Skye had no actual sexual experience to draw from, just the Romance novels she had read all through her teens. Tales of women being taken as prisoners and forced into compromising positions with handsome roguish pirates or thieves.

Held in the grip of an ebony man in the hidden depths of a primeval jungle had her mind racing with unformed ideas of what rape would be like.

Skye understood the biology of intercourse, and had seen a few pornographic videos online and so she had a mental picture of a man's penis entering a woman's vagina, but in actual fact she couldn't imagine an actual live penis going into that tiny opening she had between her legs. It was so foreign and unlikely that she simply couldn't wrap her brain around it.

Except it was suddenly all she could think about.

Looking at her two sweating captors, dappled sunlight glancing off the hard planes of their faces as they stared at her, she felt faint. Their stoic glares made her uncomfortable. The emotionlessness of their expressions filled her with dread and a warm flushed feeling.

What were they thinking?

Her mother's voice echoes in her head.

"They are thinking about raping you. Violating your body and using you for their twisted pleasure."

Skye hated hearing that voice, and the ideas it planted in her fertile imagination.

The men spoke to each other and seemed to be deciding what to do?

Skye wanted to run away again, but she found herself too weak. Sweat seeped out of every pore as her body tried to cool itself from her mad dash through the jungle. She couldn't breathe deeply enough to satisfy her starving lungs. She felt thirsty, hungry and fragile.

The men seemed to agree on a plan and started to walk down the road the way their companions had gone, believing they were chasing Skye.

Away from the village.

Skye protested and tried to pull her arm away. "No!"

The man gripped her harder and braced against her efforts to disengage.

The other man spoke to her, his words unintelligible and rapid. He pointed back to the village and then lifted his gun and mimed shooting.

Skye was terrified. Would he shoot her if she tried to go back?

He then pointed down the road the way he wanted to go and gestured for her to follow. He set off and the man holding her arm tightly pulled her after him.

She was being kidnapped.

In a few minutes they reunited with more of the group and soon all six men were once more surrounding her. Skye was trapped, the prisoner of strangers deep in dangerous territory.

She gazed around her at the men, and the jungle.

The men were each lean and wiry with tribal scarification on their faces, marking them as from the same tribe. They even looked vaguely like each other, as if cousins and brothers.

They had short tightly curled hair, broad foreheads decorated with scars made as they entered manhood and passed other rites she had no idea the meanings of. They had broad noses and high, sharp cheekbones.

Most of them had thin lips, but one man had thick pouty lips that would look good on a woman.

Their bodies were gristly and hard with lean, sinewy muscle. Only one man, the man with bigger lips had any real meat on his bones, and he was far from fat, just more rounded than the others.

Now that they were close, and her fear not so blinding Skye realized that they weren't large men, most only a couple inches taller than her five foot five. Still even the way they moved she could tell they were much stronger than her. There was a feline grace to them as they moved down the road that made her think of dancers.

Skye found herself looking closely at the bodies of these men. Her imagination had them naked and looming over her ready to treat her as a sex slave. She felt faint at the concept of being used by these men. Her mind wouldn't let go of the image of her looking up at them, their shadowy, unclear penises towering over her.

Black men had big penises didn't they?

And they hated white people, and lusted after white women didn't they?

She had so little knowledge of the ways of these strangers that she couldn't conceive of what they were going to do to her.

She reviewed all the scant knowledge she had of self defense.

Hadn't she read someplace that rapists grew more aroused if you fought them off? She was sure her mother had mentioned that if you just went along with it the rapist would likely lose interest and leave you alone. It was the struggle they desired. It was about power not lust.

Did that mean doing everything they wanted? No matter how degrading?

As the day grew brighter and much warmer Skye's imagination took her hither and yon creating varying scenarios where she was forced to do the most lewd, disgusting things to please these men. The problem being she had little idea what lewd things people did together.

She's seen a video of a woman on her knees sucking penis after penis until the men had spilled their sperm onto the woman's face. Was that what they would make her do? That image had been burned onto young Skye's psyche. She had often dreamed of it and awoken with her hand between her legs her hips bucking as she had a nocturnal climax. It was an image she could never shake.

Was that going to happen to her now? Her body grew warmer and slippery with the idea. She could feel that same tingly pleasure building between her legs and she felt intense shame when she realized what was happening.

She was growing horny.

Her mortification knew no bounds. How on earth could she be aroused by the idea of these men using her as a sex slave? Was this a survival mechanism? Was this the Stockholm syndrome she had heard about?

After an hour of walking, and mentally tormenting herself Skye was desperate to know what was going to happen to her. The not knowing was driving her crazy. Now she was thinking about them making her crawl on fours and let them take her like a dog on the hard packed earth of this dirt track.

This had to end.

Just when she thought she would lose her mind the men spoke to each other and stopped.

They chose a clearing near the river, or at least a river, she couldn't tell if it were the same one from by the village. They pulled out tin cups and hunched down by the river and scooped running water to drink.

Her captor released her and eyed her speculatively, curious to see her reaction to sudden freedom. Too stunned and weak to move she simply stood staring at the men drinking from the river.

Skye's mouth grew drier seeing them drinking water and when one offered her a cup she took it quickly and guzzled the whole thing immediately. Then she bent down and scooped more from the river. After her second cup she felt the gaze of the men on her.

Looking at them from the corner of her eye she saw that all of them were watching her nosily slurp water like a mad woman.

Trying to slow down and behave like a civilized person Skye drank more carefully. Still they stared at her.

Suddenly she intuited that they were assessing her sexually. She was squatting with her legs wide, her long, thin neck exposed as she drank. Was this a suggestive position? She felt it might be. At least in her mind's eye she resembled the woman in the video kneeling before all those engorged penises, her head tilted up submissively, her face drizzled in semen.

Soon she realized that they were indeed watching, but only somewhat, some had other interests. A few of the men pulled out a variety of food items from pouches and backpacks and began to eat. A light snack, it seemed to Skye, but her mouth began to water just looking at the small items.

Should she ask for some? Could she even communicate that much, her mime skills had improved greatly since coming to Africa, but they were far from good. There was usually much laughter and misunderstanding when she tried to communicate ideas to the women of the village.

She was saved from humiliating herself when one of the men offered her a banana. She gratefully accepted and began to eat.

The avid interest the men showed as she ate the fruit transformed the otherwise benign object into something phallic. Skye flushed embarrassed as she realized she was feeding the sexuality of the moment by putting her mouth around the tubular object and eating.

Was that what they were thinking or was it all in her head? Her warm skin blushed furiously as she quickly ate, trying to be as unsexy as she could.

Sex was so prominently on her mind however that she felt utterly exposed. Her t-shirt was clinging to her sweaty body; accentuating her physique and making her feel naked. Her shorts were simple hiking shorts but her legs seemed lewdly exposed in this context, the tanned skin enticing and provocative. Trying to be as small and covered as she could, Skye huddled around herself and allowed the water and banana to settle in her churning stomach.

Soon the men stood and began to prepare to hike some more.

Skye dreaded arriving where they were going. In her mind's eye she was going to some cave to be a sex slave forevermore, chained and molested night after night, over and over.

Her body walked down the road but Skye's mind was already in that cave, she was naked, her skin glistening in flickering firelight. From the gloom of her imagination her kidnappers emerged naked, but ill-defined in Skye's naïve fantasy.

Light played off the wiry muscles of her captors in secretive caresses, the deep brown of their skin blending with the shadows of the cavern. Soon they grew close enough for her to see their prominent erections thrust out before them. Skye was terrified of the size of those members, the large black erections seemed as big as the men's arms.

Skye looked at each man in front of her on the road and found a face for each of the shadowy figures in her imagination. One by one she gave identity to the men in her mind who reached for her in that fantastical cavern. Using the long walk to refine the ordeal in her mind Skye took all morning to carefully fill in as many details of her nightmare as possible.

It wasn't something she wanted to see; the perfect angle of shoulder that the Tall One had when he adjusted his rifle in his hand, or how he stroked his hypothetical penis in her vision.

Skye didn't desire to know what the Muscular One's abdominals looked like when he impulsively jumped up and caught hold of a branch, swinging himself once, twice and then jumping nimbly to the ground. But since she know did she was now able to overlay them onto the body of an imaginary man standing in front of her with his phallus pointed right at her face.

A loose, wobbly feeling overtook her. Skye felt lightheaded, dry mouthed and short of breath. Was this another round of her illness?

Her lower abdomen felt loose and a slick, wet, sweatiness was sloshing around between her legs. Has she peed herself while walking? That would be mortifying.

Shaken from her reverie by another halt in the long trudge Skye shook her head and saw the men standing around her looking at the girl in their midst.

Skye suddenly realized she had moaned and she had one hand between her legs. She was clutching her sex in her hand. Skye had become so engrossed in her fantasy that she had forgotten where she was and was touching her burning sex.

It seemed preferable to have them to think she had to pee so she pointed to the jungle and did a little dance to mime having to go to the bathroom.