The big room at the back of the private, walled villa reeked of sweat, pain and sexual excitement. The air was thick, hot and humid, the edges of the room in semidarkness because the slatted blinds were closed whilst the central space was bathed in the pitiless glare of powerful lamps. The young black woman in the middle of the circle of light blinked constantly, her eyes screwed up against the hot, painful blaze of the spot lamps that revealed every quivering inch of her delightfully curved body. Twenty three year old Anna Matuba was stark naked, her dark brown skin gleaming wet with sweat, her muscles quivering with strain and her chest rising and falling rapidly as she panted softly in fear and discomfort.<br />
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She twisted and turned constantly so the firm cones of her breasts swayed and jiggled unimpeded with each little movement. She wanted to stop the obscene display she was giving the men leering at her from the darkness beyond the blinding glare of the lights, but she was helpless. Her breasts and every intimate detail of her genitals were exposed to the attentions of her sadistic tormentors because of the way she was bound, straddled astride a strong wooden table.<br />
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True, it was quite a small table; only knee high, the stained and scarred rectangular top just over eighteen inches from front to back and about two and a half feet wide. The legs were square, thick posts, joined by strong bars at the base. The table had been bolted down securely to anchor points set into the tiled floor.<br />
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There were carved indentations in the middle of each of the table’s shorter sides, little cutaway curves that just fitted Anna’s knees; keeping them spread to hold her thighs stretched wide apart. Of course the leather straps bolted to each side of the tabletop, the ones that the man had buckled so tightly just above each knee, helped too. And, just to keep her feet out of the way, and to help increase the strain on her leg muscles, her ankles were secured to the rails that joined the front and back legs, the thin straps carefully positioned to allow her the extra discomfort of being able to hold her body arched up on tiptoe.<br />
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And there was nothing she could do to shield or protect the vulnerable and sensitive points of her body either. They’d used an unbreakable nylon tie to bind her wrists together behind her back...and then they’d knotted a cord between her arms and round the middle of the nylon band. She hadn’t noticed the hooks in the concrete ceiling beam when they brought her in. She’d only realised they were there when one of the men had stood on the table and put the cord over one of those hooks. Then they’d started hauling on the other end of the cord...<br />
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Now Anna Matuba’s arms were twisted agonisingly back against her shoulder joints, the strain so great that they pointed vertically to the ceiling, forcing her upper body over into a painful arch, bent over so her breasts hung away from her body, dangling exposed and presented for her torturer’s pleasure.<br />
<br />
Anna’s out-thrust buttocks were laced with thin raised weals, the flesh showing a dull, angry red against her gleaming black skin. Evidence of the same kind of punishment showed across the firm swaying cones of her breasts, but this time the weals were closer together, the lines concentrated across the round black caps of her aureoles and the long hard spikes of her nipples. The weals didn’t show up so much against the black tips, but the caning had made her teats jut out like little fingers, the sensitive stubs already so sore and swollen that the dark purple-black flesh was taut and shiny.<br />
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Cigarettes glowed in the dimness where Sergeant Tomas and Chang slouched on chairs awaiting their turn, their teeth gleamed white as they grinned and nodded, chatting quietly to each other as they drank in the scene in front of them.<br />
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Just at this particular moment Anna Matuba’s squeals and gasps were from quite a different cause to the wild screams she’d produced when Tomas had been caning those swaying teats a little earlier. The figure standing behind her was naked too, a man, obviously in the peak of condition with the physique of an athlete, his light brown skin in marked contrast to the woman’s gleaming black flesh. He rocked his hips gently into those sore, whipped buttocks; face taut with concentration and pleasure as the tight ring of her anus gripped and stimulated his penis with each long deliberate stroke.<br />
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‘Still nothing useful to tell us then, Anna,’ he chuckled as the straddled figure jerked and whimpered as each thrust forced the thick, oily shaft of flesh deeper into her rectum. His hands held her in the position he wanted, gripping her upstretched arms, the muscles bulging and flexing as he moved her hips backwards and forwards, slowly working his long thick cock even deeper into her bottom. Captain Anak Raman was enjoying one of the regular perks of his job.<br />
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His hands slid down her arms as he bent forwards, reaching under her torso to cup her dangling breasts. ‘Remember,’ his thumbs rolled the taut, swollen teats from side to side so she gasped in pain, teeth clamped tight on her lower lip, her eyes staring white from a face lined with strain, terror and the exhaustion of her efforts to withstand what they had already done...and the fear of the horrors yet to come. He chuckled, ‘oh dear... a bit tender there, eh? Just think how much worse it’ll be when Sergeant Tomas gets back to tickling them again with that cane...’
