3.1 ~ Head to head.

 

The 'Silver Stiletto Nightclub' was far more impressive than I could possibly have imagined, especially as my impression of South Africa had been steadily plummeting since I arrived two weeks earlier. It was to be the holiday of a lifetime, with my boyfriend, and the first couple of days were good.

The hotel where we stayed was clean, and the mostly black staff were polite and well spoken. The facilities were first class, like the pool, the fitness suite and the bars. My experiences on the streets were not so enjoyable though. After a couple of days, I couldn't escape the feeling that I was just one step away from being mugged.

I knew it was awful to think such things, but native black South African men have a certain trait of examining a white woman, as though they are undressing and fucking us in their minds. The thing is they don't hide their thoughts with furtive glances and quick peeks. No, they leer and stare until you've passed by; and then they often turn and watch your ass until you've disappeared from sight.

Then, after I was kidnapped, I experienced the true nature of the distain they held for young white women like myself. The gang of black young thugs couldn't wait to strip me naked and use me as though I was a whore in one of the local cat houses. Worse was to come when they caged me and treated me like an animal.

The man Earl, who was interested in buying me, complained that I was too scrawny for his clients. Wanting to get the best price possible for their 'slave girl', Jupe, the leader of the gang, began to fatten me up on a diet of dog meat and bulking powder. Also, to make me a compliant bitch, they gave me regular hits, provided I toed the line.

They weren't to know that I was a junky in my teens and spent a year on the streets selling my body. Memories of behaving like a whore were locked away in my memory banks, so when Jupe and her gang unlocked the door, they found it much easier to make me perform the depraved acts that she and her friends demanded of me.

So, as I strutted across the plush casino carpeting behind Earl, my thoughts were concerned with sex, punishments and drugs. How should I behave toward each of the three men who wanted to make me their permanent slave. I was high after snorting a line of the finest smack I had ever inhaled so they had me where they wanted me.

The millionaire, Keith Douglas had the supply, but did he have the power to wrench me out of the grasp of Earl, the gun toting nightclub manager? Then, there was George who wanted to establish a whore house with me as his star attraction.

I wasn't surprised to see virtually every black guy's jaw drop and their eyes follow my progress as we dodged between the gambling tables. For the first time, since I was kidnapped, I was wearing a decent dress. It was very short and made from red satin. I thought that it made me look a little bit frumpy, but Earl was impressed. He, like every other black gangster, liked his women on the large side.

Earl had given me a thong, saying I'd look more decent in his casino. However, the show of generosity didn't raise my opinion of the gangster; for it would be a long time before I lost the sensation of having the barrel of a pistol thrust in my quim.

The thong made me feel decent though. As I looked around, I saw that some of the other girls were still wearing just thongs and a corset with quarter cups, so that their ample tits were almost fully on display. The girls beneath the wigs and corsets were slaves, just like me, but they all seemed to be enjoying their duties, escorting punters around the casino.

Earl stopped me in the middle of an aisle. "Girl, one of the first rules for the whores to know is that you don't distract your man when a card is being dealt or when the dice are being thrown."

I was feeling safer in the middle of the casino. I doubted if Earl or any of the other men would take a swing at me or make me bend over for a beating. I hoped that I could talk normally to some of the black guys and enjoy the experience

"Um, Earl, I forgot to tell you. Mr. Douglas has changed my name to Faye, so that no one recognizes me."

The aggressive nightclub manager scowled at me. "Did you hear what I said bitch?" he said wagging his finger in my face.

I could see in his eyes that he wanted to cuff me round the head, but he reined in his temper. Heads were turned on the nearest tables, as the men gawped at the white whore.

"Yes, Sir. I just wanted you to know that Mr Douglas gave me a new name."

"Bitch, he could call you Beyoncé for all I care. Till Monday you're my whore and don't you forget it. Now follow me."

Earl's outburst didn't upset my equilibrium, as we once again began threading our way through the tables. The sheer size of the auditorium and the number of black men and women playing the tables staggered and thrilled me at the same time. Earl eventually stopped at a table where five guys were seated playing a card game.

I had been so preoccupied with looking around at my impressive surroundings that I hadn't noticed that it was George, who Earl had stopped to stand beside. I had to blink twice, for standing on George's left side, with her arm draped round his shoulders, was none other than Jennifer, his live-in house maid!

Jen and I had struck up a close relationship in George's house. I had to kowtow to her dominant personality and position, for she had voluntarily signed up to work for the aggressive security expert. He paid her to clean his house and provide sexual services on demand.

George, according to Jen, had a proclivity for hiring lots of prostitutes to have sex with, which made her position in his household reasonably bearable. When I turned up, George lost interest in her and proceeded to bone me whenever he could get it up, which was far too often for my liking!

When I showed up on George's doorstep, he put Jen in charge of my hits and diet. Within a day or two, I became totally dependent on Jen's 'H' timetable, which enabled her to boss me around to her heart's content. George bound us together at night with our faces pressed in each other's pussies, so we eventually became willing, intimate friends.

She, like George, was watching the dealer hand out a face down card to each of the 6 players round the table, so didn't see us approach. The slim girl, standing side on to me, was wearing a white t-shirt dress and had donned a huge afro wig that I thought suited her cheeky face. I knew from being with her for a week that the men thought she was plain and unattractive, but I thought she was a very pretty girl. Whoever had put her make-up on had transformed her into a svelte beauty.

I waited for the players to pick up their second card before I stepped forward and touched Jen on the arm. She turned and gawped at me with a confused expression on her face. Then she twigged.

"Fucking hell! If it ain't Snow White in her finest togs!" she exclaimed, looking me up and down.

"Jen, you look pretty neat yourself," I responded enthusiastically.

George, who was studying his down card, turned for a second toward Earl and then spun round to look at me. "Girl! Damn..." He was speechless, so I put my hands on my hips and wiggled them for him.

His eyes popped and his jaw dropped open, so seizing the opportunity, I stepped forward, bent down and kissed him on the lips. "George," I whispered. "They want you to lose your money and get into debt. They want you to sell me..." George deftly dropped a hand to the back of my thighs and managed to move it up and grab my naked cheeks.

Earl interrupted him though, by grabbing my arm and pulling me back a step. "George, I just stopped by to see if you needed anything." George's eyes never left my body, but he grabbed Jen back to his side.

I looked around the table to see every man had stopped what they were doing and were ogling me and my performance. Most of them seemed to be interested in my tits and their attempt to burst forth out of my low cut neckline.

"I'm all right," George finally said, tearing his eyes away from me. He hugged Jen closer. "This bitch is bringing me luck. Where are you going with my wigger, Earl?"

"George, she's escorting one of my best customers tonight and as you can see, doing a great job."

"Which table is the gangster playing?"

"In the private members room, George. The stakes are too high for you in there."

"Let me be the judge of that, Earl! Get me in there, otherwise you ain't ever gonna see Snow White in here again."

"George, we've got a deal..."

"Only for this weekend."

The situation had become tense, because the game had stopped. Everyone wanted to hear the discussion between the manager of the casino, a man who clearly had the respect of everyone, and George, a loose cannon who was likely to do anything at any moment.

The weird thing was that their belligerent discussion revolved around my ownership! I should have seen the appalling implications of their squabble, but I was still simmering under the influence of Keith's smack.

Earl looked totally pissed, but he was in a corner. "Have you got twenty-five K?" Earl asked.

"I'm worth twice that and I'm up Eight K here..."

"All right Earl, finish up on this table and I'll get you a seat at the big table in the member's lounge."

Earl put his hand in his pocket and handed George a gold card. "That'll get you past security. Go and sit at the bar and I'll call you over when the table is ready."

George took the card, gave me a wink and returned to the game, which immediately sprung into life. Bets began to be laid so the men's attention was back on the cards and the piles of chips on the table.

"Come on bitch, Keith is waiting..."

As we set off once again through the throng, I glanced back at George and couldn't help worrying about his chances of winning against the casino or a millionaire like Keith. Now that he was going into the lion's den, so to speak, they were likely to fleece him for every rand he had!