CHAPTER ONE

 

It was Wednesday morning and the beginning of the sixth day I had been incarcerated in the hell hole that had once been the Wild Palm Resort. Staring at the ceiling, in the concentration camp-like hut, I was trying to summons up the energy to face another day of cruel and brutal treatment at the hands of the rebel army.

It felt like the darkest hour but there had been so many of them during the previous six days, it was difficult to differentiate one from another. The Rebels had overrun the Resort on Thursday morning and herded myself, my partner and 4 other couples into the hotel's spacious dining room.

There was a lot of speculation about what happened to the other guests, but we knew they were loaded into lorries and driven away. Once the rebels had taken our partners away, I and four other young white women were left to face the authoritarian black commander alone. Later, they added two black barmaids to our group making us seven in total.

On that first morning I had the nerve to challenge the rebel officer when we were told that we were being pressganged into the Cross River Liberation Army. My indignant words were still ringing in my head, "Sir, you can't do that. We are Americans and we have rights that the Cameroon authorities recognise. This is a civilized country and we don't want to join your army!"

Colonel Uthman responded with callous disregard, "You have no rights here. The place you came to doesn't exist anymore and neither do you. Now sit down!" After six days of punishments and abuse, I had come to realize I was lucky to escape a beating from the sadistic officer, right there in the dining room, in front of my friends.

It was an appalling start to my nightmare. A horror show that appeared to have no ending. Being separated from my boyfriend, Greg, on that first morning had crushed my spirit. We had been together for three years and he was my love and my rock. There was one saving grace among so many dreadful aspects of the rebel invasion - Greg was black and received more lenient treatment than the white partners of some of the other guests.

Then we discovered Emi's black partner had deceived the attractive English girl. He was a colonel in the rebel army and as soon as he had used her for his own purpose, he joined Colonel Uthman, who was in command of the whole training camp.

On that first day we had a crash course in tyranny. First Uthman and then Lieutenant Sanga read us the riot act and turned us from carefree holiday makers into terrified slaves. They cut our hair off and gave us 'uniforms' that were designed to accentuate our young bodies and make it easy for any soldier to sexually molest us.

Our casual 'uniform' consisted of short camouflaged mini-skirts and short sleeve t-shirts, but there were no panties. Then, when we were labouring, we discarded the skirt for a pair of tight khaki panties. Khaki socks and boots completed the outfit.

On the second day I spent the early morning on the beach hauling goods to the soldiers, manning the barricades on the perimeter. Joined to the other five via chains between our collars, we were made to jog back and forth with loaded rucksacks until we were exhausted.

Later, after a huge parade of hundreds of soldiers I was taken up to meet a group of officers who offered me and Emi, a pretty English/Japanese girl, a position in the administration department. Emi turned it down and was subsequently put through the ringer again, while through sheer terror, I agreed to think about their offer.

That was when Emi had her insignia branded on her arms and mons; and I was taken to the medical room to have my face and body tattooed. I thought the lines and symbols looked attractive on the native African girl's faces, but on my sun-tanned face and torso, they were an abomination. In one fell swoop the rebels had not only ruined my looks but my life as well.

The original seven were reduced to five, because Emi and Hanna escaped that Friday night. I could have gone with them, but I was in shock from what had happened during the day; and my inability to swim great distances made escaping via the sea seem like a death sentence.

What I hadn't considered was the consequences of being associated with two escaping prisoners. In the morning we were each taken to various rooms on the upper floor of the hotel and interrogated about the escape. I was taken to room 4 and suffered another shockingly dark hour that will live with me until the day I die.

Standing on one foot, I was forced to do the splits by tethering my other foot to a hook in the ceiling. With my hands in cuffs behind my back and my knee tied to my collar, Lieutenant Darga proceeded to torture me with a terrifying electronic gadget.

I was singing like a bird before he slid one tube-like electrode into my anus and closed a long grip on my clitoral ridge. They had the answers to their questions before they turned the juice on, but it didn't deter them from using the awful sadistic device. Sending 1000 volts through my naked white body was about teaching me a lesson and warning me that worse would follow if I tried to do what Emi and Hanna had done.

The audience, Uthman and his wife, Sergeant Sheera Uthman, watched on while I screamed my head off whenever the lieutenant decided to throw the switch. I was still in a haze of pain when doctor Lapido arrived and branded the army's insignia on my upper arms and mons.

I spent the afternoon and evening in the hut, recovering from my dreadful wounds. Uthman and his cronies had succeeded in breaking any resistance I might have had when I delayed my decision to work in administration. Emi had a good reason for not wanting to live in the hotel with the officers. She wanted to be near the beach and get her chance to escape.

After the torture session, I was willing to do anything Uthman and his officers asked of me. So, after a third night in the hut I was expecting to be taken back to the hotel and given a chance to work in admin. I wasn't given the opportunity, instead we spent the whole day transporting food and drink to the troops, up and down the beach.

We were having our break at midday at the north barricade when word filtered among the soldiers that Emi and Hanna had been caught and returned to the resort. Also, it was announced that the body of the young lad who helped them escape had washed up on the shore.

The news had a devastating effect on all of us. We were pinning our hopes on the pair alerting the authorities. There was another six days to go before we were all due to travel home, so the world wasn't aware of our plight.

Mercy and Delilah, the two native African girls in our group were resigned to their fate. But, Hillary, Claire and I, knew our family and friends would eventually come looking for us. It was a slim chance and our only hope.

Later that day we were taken one by one to have our nipples, noses, lips, tongues and labia pierced. Tired and downtrodden I hardly had the energy to think about protesting, let alone actually doing it. The double labia piercing was performed with a red-hot curved needle and was extremely painful. The holes were at the top of our labia, so the ring could be threaded through both lips and be visible when standing to attention.

In a matter of a few days the rebels had turned us into white clones of their own black women, except for modifying our pussies.

During the next two days, Monday and Tuesday, we were once again made to slog back and forth along the beach. But, things were changing in the camp for the worse. More soldiers and prisoners arrived, and word went around among the soldiers that General Idris Darego was due at any time.

We, the mule train, went nowhere near the old hotel during the day, so didn't get to see him. He didn't appear at the evening meals on the bowling green, either, but we all knew his arrived was imminent because of the excitement among the men.

What we did get though were more young women in our hut, two guards that slept with us, and heavier collars and chains. I guessed that our entertainment duties had been curtailed because there was so much activity in the camp and we needed time to recover from the brands, tattoos and piercings.

No one else was awake in the hut, but there was activity outside, which could mean we were about to be roused and taken to breakfast. Our Slavemasters would make us work round the clock if they thought we were strong enough and had enough energy. It was still dark though, so we probably had another half hour of rest.

The body count had swollen to 14 with the arrival of the new batch of prisoners. They chained us to our beds at 9 o'clock at night so our bodies were well rested for the next day. I got plenty of rest, but I found it difficult to sleep in the stifling conditions. Added to the heat was the stench of body odour from 16 sweaty bodies - one of many reasons why I found it difficult to sleep.

The nine new girls had been in the hands of the rebels for over two weeks so were in a far worse mental state than we were. Physically though, they looked strong, as though they had been eating well before arriving at the resort. They, like us, all had facial tattoos, piercings and bore the brands of the rebel army on their arms and mons. However, they had all had their pussies trimmed, something we had been threatened with by several officers.

Alone for just five minutes, on the night the new girls arrived, several arguments broke out between us. Before we came to blows, Corporal Dabu stepped through the door and lashed out with his baton. The new arrivals wanted more room for their mattresses and didn't get it. Two of them were added to our team, an English girl, Sally and a French girl, Adele.

I half closed my eyes and pretended I was asleep when I noticed Private Minka rise from his bed and turn to sit on the edge. The surly private had a bandage on his left hand to cover the stub left where his little finger had been amputated. It was his punishment for failing to stop Emi and Hanna escaping. Ever since then he had treated us appallingly, as though we were to blame for his dereliction of duty.

He was lucky to be given a decent bed and a second chance of watching over one half of the girls, he called the Shag team. The head of his bed was positioned beside the one and only door into the chalet, while Corporal Dabu's bed stood under the far window. The older soldier was snoring loudly and would only wake if someone roused him.

After letting himself out, I heard the sound of Minka pissing in the latrine, before running the water to douse himself under the makeshift showerhead. Muffled voices suggested he stopped to chat with someone outside, before returning to the cabin. His rich black skin glistened with droplets of water when he stepped inside and closed the door.

Naked, he stood by his bed and surveyed the seven half naked girls lying in his half of the room. I wondered who he was going to pick and whether I would be the unlucky sod to be chosen for his pre-breakfast shag.

So many awful things had happened to me, what difference would one more dreadful jack-rolling make to my already shattered morale?