Congo Heat

I was sitting moping in my room, when the phone rang at the bedside. It was the manager telling me that Mr. Melawi was sending a car for me.

I leapt up and got ready. At last, some progress was being made. Making my way downstairs to the lobby, I didn't have long to wait before a chauffeur driven black limousine slid into the driveway. It was Melawi's car for me and I slid into the plush back seat, before the driver told me that he was taking me to his boss's home on the outskirts of Brazzaville. The journey took about 30 minutes and I concentrated on what I was going to say to a man I detested. Clearly, I was going to have to watch my tongue if I was going to get his help.

As the limo swung onto the large gravelled forecourt, I gasped in astonishment. I had been impressed with the car and the speed of Melawi's response to my plight, but, that was clearly nothing in comparison to his French colonial style mansion. It was an elegant looking building set in several acres of well-maintained grounds and looked too grand and imposing to be anyone's home. However, the driver proudly confirmed that it was.

"It's not his only property", he told me. "He's got a few both here and abroad. There's also a yacht in some Mediterranean port."

As the car stopped, I realised it was my last chance to get any more information on the man before I met him again. "And women," I queried, "what about women?"

The black chauffeur looked over his shoulder and grinned. "Oh he's got plenty of those too...but only the best."

I raised my eyebrows as a new respect for the man dawned on me. I was beginning to see him in a new light. Clearly, I had vastly underestimated his power, wealth and influence. If he managed to find Debbie for me, maybe I could find forgiveness for what he did at the Pointe Noire hotel.

I was shown into the house by an aging French butler. Melawi and his cronies were in a large drawing room sitting on leather sofas at each side of a long low coffee table. He waved lazily at me and I was treated to his trade mark shit eating grin. "Ah we meet again, Mr... the man with the beautiful wife."

I let that go for the moment. It was probably in Debbie's best interests for him to go on thinking that.

"What can I do for you," he continued, after he got me to sit in a chair that looked remarkably like the one I had been tied to in the room at the Pointe Noire hotel.

But, it was my chance to enlist his help and I got into the speech I had planned in the car, outlining our movements since boarding the train for Brazzaville and getting to the bit where the truck had sped off with her as the only passenger.

"Why exactly did you get off the train," he asked, stopping me in full flow.

And of course, I had to tell them about the gangbang on the train. I had tried to skirt over it, but, they didn't let me. That's when their sniggering and smirking began as they dragged out all the juicy details.

Over the next hour, they got everything out of me. For some reason or another I blurted it all out as if I were on a truth drug or something. And as I responded to their questions and supplied more and more intimate details of what had happened to Debbie on the road, my shame and humiliation grew. I was so guilty at not taking better care of her. At the end, I was hanging my head, as I respectfully asked for his help in finding her.

He watched me for a while with little more than a contemptuous look on his face. Then he said...

"I have some good news for you Mr... The lady in question has been found and recaptured.

"Really!" I exploded. "Why that's wonderful."

"Yes, a gang of slave traders were just about to cross the border with her when my men came across them. They were heavily armed, so a certain amount of delicate negotiation was required before they agreed to release her."

"How did you know about it," I asked.

"Oh, I have informers everywhere"

"The bad news," he continued "is that I had to pay a considerable sum to buy her. They drove a hard bargain because, she is after all, a beautiful white woman. They would have got a good price for her in the slave markets of Africa."

"I will pay you whatever it was that..."

"She is not for sale"

"Excuse me?"

"I bought her as a slave and I intend to keep her as my slave."

"But, she's a British citizen...you can't..."

"Oh, but I can. You see the ancient laws of my people permit it. And, also by those same laws any woman bought as a slave relinquishes any previous commitments.

"I don't believe this," I spluttered. "Slavery was abolished years ago"

"Well then, believe this, my friend" He clapped his hands together loudly and the double doors opened at the far end of the room. To my complete and absolute astonishment, I saw Debbie come into the room. She was naked and being led by two men in loincloths. One of whom held her by means of a long chain affixed to a black leather ring around her neck. The other man carried a whip. She was led into the room and then I saw that her hands were also tied behind her back. And when she got to the long low coffee table, she stepped up on to it in her high heels, so that everyone got a good view.

She looked fantastic, her hair and make-up impeccable. I always knew my ex-wife had a superb figure but displayed like this she took my breath away and I guess every man in the room felt the same.

Melawi cleared his throat and continued.

"As I was saying, she is my property now and will be well looked after. When properly trained, she will do my bidding in any way I so choose. At some point, I will put her to work to reclaim the money I paid to rescue her. The best escort agencies in Paris, Dubai and New York are crying out for white beauties like her...

"Stop it..." I exclaimed, "She is coming home with me..."

"Well we will let her decide for herself shall we. You English are very keen on your democratic principles."

"Tell him Debbie," he shouted. "You may speak."

"Oh please, master," she cried, looking straight at Melawi. "I want to stay here with you and be your obedient slave."

I had no way of knowing what they had done to her to make her say that. I looked at the cruel expression on the face of the man with the whip and could only guess at the sort of punishment she would have had to endure to bring her completely under Melawi's control. There was no doubt that he was her Master now.

I got out of my chair and went right up to her, but, she turned her back on me. And, after desperately trying to talk her into coming with me, eventually, I had to give up. The reality now was that Debbie was lost to another man and this time as his personal slave. I was disappointed, but, had to admit that it was entirely up to her what choice she made. These days I was just her ex-husband and a neighbour. My responsibility for her had ended years ago. I shrugged my shoulders and decided to go back home alone.

They took me to the airport after that. Because, all I could do was accept the situation. I knew she was lost for good. Or so I had thought.

In the weeks and months that followed I made sure her flat was kept up to date with rent payments and was regularly cleaned etc. I just couldn't believe that I would never see her again.

Then, unbelievably, right out of the blue, she just turned up. It was nearly three months later and up to then I hadn't heard from her or had any clue as to where she was.

One morning, however, I heard a knock, opened the door and there she was, her backpack on her shoulder and smiling happily. I was so glad to see her. And she was glad to be home. She had come straight from the airport.

Apparently, Melawi had let her go. Willingly or unwillingly it wasn't really clear. But later, there were rumours that he had been given no alternative by a new military government. In fact, all the girls that he held in his posh mansion and particularly those from European countries were escorted out of the Country.

Of course I quizzed her about what had happened after she was whisked away from me at the roadside. But, she didn't give much away. Her time as a slave remained her dark secret. Someday, I'm going to try and prise it out of her.

"Here's to our next holiday, darling" she toasted me, when I took her out to dinner the next evening, to celebrate her return. She was wearing a red tight fitting dress which showed off to full advantage, her ample cleavage, curvaceous figure and long tanned legs. This was a lady glowing with health and in fine spirits. She raised her glass and smiled and the glint in her eyes told me that it was Africa she had in mind.

THE END