Chapter 1: The Beginning

"Dr. Nichols?" The slim black intern leaned over the young woman who was carefully perusing "The Journal of Women's Medicine", a slight smile on his dark face.

Melissa Nichols, M.D., looked up and smiled. "Yes, I'm Dr. Nichols. May I help you?" She tossed her long dark brown hair back from her face and gazed at the young man with deep brown eyes.

She used minimal makeup, the intern noted, and was quite attractive. Her figure was healthy and curved, perhaps a trifle on the rubenesque side, but lovely. She wore a conservative heather-gray skirt and simple white satin blouse, and her matching gray jacket was draped over a chair at the table where she sat.

"Madam, I have been asked to deliver this to you," the man said, and offered a cream-colored envelope. It had been addressed by a firm, strong hand, and bore her complete name and title: Dr. Melissa L. Carmi-Nichols, M.D. - Obstetrics. She raised an eyebrow at the intern.

"What is this about, Mr... ummm," she began to ask, looking at the nametag on his scrubs and finding it unreadable.

"Jonas, Dr. Nichols. Please do not worry about the last name; it is unpronounceable. Even my father says so!" He smiled, bright white teeth in his dark face, and Melissa found her eyes traveling up and down his blue-clad body, very sexy even in the loose-fitting hospital clothing. She caught herself after a moment, when her eyes had strayed to the crotch of his scrubs and readily identified the large bulge there.

"And this is about?" she began again, trying to direct her attention away from dwelling on what she had seen.

"I work for Dr. Dakore Olakayude, Dr. Nichols, and he requested me personally to deliver his request to your hands."

Melissa's eyebrows went up. Dr. Olakayude was from Nigeria, and had come to the U.S. to work on research that was both well-funded and fairly hush-hush. As she recalled, he and his team, which included a number of other doctors and staff from Nigeria and a handful of others from around the States, had a private wing in which their research project was carried out. No one really seemed to know what the project was about, but it seemed to be bringing a lot of foreign recognition to the hospital, along with some very nice grants and outright gifts. People were nice to Dr. Olakayude.

Melissa knew many of her associates in the ranks of the non-affiliated wished to get a position in one of the research projects. It was the quickest way to advancement and an offer of becoming a medical center affiliated doctor. An invitation to join such a team usually was proffered in just this manner. But she could not, for the life of her, think why she would get such an offer.

She was not particularly interested in research. Melissa had majored in Obstetrics because she truly wanted to help women with their unique health problems. Having completed all her requirements, and just received final notification that she had been admitted to the lofty fullness of "doctorhood", her plan was to head to the Midwest with her husband and sign on with a family practice or clinic in her field. She fully intended to spend the rest of her life serving in that kind of position.

But here she held in her hand what might well be an opening to a prestigious career, one that could enhance her status in obstetrics, and eventually lead her to be a leader in her field. It could be very important, and it could entail changing plans; she knew she should take it and consult her husband, Kevin, before making any decisions.

"Dr. Olakayude was hoping you might read his request, and then accompany me to his office to speak with him about it," Jonas said.

Melissa glanced up in surprise. "So quickly?" she blurted, then blushed. "I mean, I am married after all, and usually my husband and I discuss possible job offers together."

Jonas smiled indulgently. "Please read what Dr. Olakayude asks, and then perhaps you can make a temporary decision to meet with him." He had been instructed not to return to his boss' office without the intelligent, attractive brunette. So he waited patiently for her to read and inwardly digest. {blockquote style="font-style: italic;"}

My dear Doctor Nichols,

I have observed your progress in the programs of medical education with much delight, and have enjoyed "watching from afar" as you worked your way through some very rigorous educational and medical minefields. Having been impressed with your work, and your commitment to women's health issues, especially as regards the intertwined workings of the lower female tracts, I am hopeful that I may entice you for the period of one year to work with our research unit.

If you would be so kind to accompany my assistant Jonas, I would be delighted to meet with you and discuss the offer of our governing board. We would be talking remuneration in the amount of six figures, which could be very helpful in setting up your own obstetrics practice at the conclusion of your time with the research project.

Do be so kind as to come. Having some of the English sensibilities, I can also offer you that most civilized of traditions, English tea time, with scones and cream.

Yours most sincerely,
Dr. Dakore Olakayude, Director, Research Project SW, Stage M.

Melissa was stunned. Six figures?!?! She had no idea what Dr. Olakayude and the board thought she had to offer that was worth that kind of money, but after four years of marriage and med school and all the struggles that entailed, she was more than willing to listen to his proposal. Kevin would understand.

She rose swiftly to her feet, and smiling at Jonas, said, "Do lead on, I will be happy to meet with the Director."

The handsome young black motioned the direction they should go, walking a step behind the pretty young doctor. She did not see him eyeing her lush figure, or smiling wickedly as he watched her hips sway unconsciously, and her ass bounce enticingly in her gray skirt. Nor did she hear his thought.

"My master surely can pick them. She will prove the best of our subjects, I am sure!"

The office of Dr. Olakayude was located just outside the research project suite. It was sumptuously appointed, with mahogany wainscoting and a plush burgundy carpet. Colorful paintings hung from the walls. The furnishings included an antique oak table with four plush chairs, and antique desk with accompanying office chair, a pair of seats in front of the desk, and waist high barrister's bookcases around the room.

Melissa was astounded by the utter luxury of the room as she was brought in. "Wow," she said softly, turning her head to look at Jonas. "Your boss has excellent taste!" The black intern laughed in a friendly manner.

"He has worked hard to achieve this, up from the poorest family in his village in Nigeria. His researches have done much to alleviate suffering and to impress hospital boards and important people." Jonas stepped over to a small case mounted on the wall. Melissa followed his motions with her eyes and watched as the intern opened ornate wooden doors. Looking back at her, he smiled.

"This is a traditional Nigerian ancestor shrine. When we discuss important issues, we call upon our ancestors to watch over our discussion, and burn a bit of incense to appease them." He pulled out a narrow stick and lit one end, setting it in sand before a somewhat abstract figure within the shrine itself. Having done that, Jonas turned back to Melissa.

"I will begin making tea, Dr. Nichols. Please have a seat, and Dr. Olakayude will be here in a moment." He stepped into a small alcove Melissa had not noticed, and she could hear him puttering around, with the clink of silver and china.

Melissa did not sit immediately, but wandered about the room examining the contents. The scent of the incense was quite pleasant, and she was rather surprised that her senses seemed to be heightened as she looked through the items in the office.

The bookshelves contained the standard medical texts, at least until she reached the one immediately behind the desk. She was astonished to see a wide variety of sexual response publications there, including many studies and reports long considered outmoded. There were in addition a number of privately bound titles, some of which seemed to be related to the research project. Interestingly, there were also four or five books on the subject of hypnotism.

A furrow crossed Melissa's brow as she tried to recall what she had heard about Project SW. She didn't remember hearing anything about overt sexual response studies, but maybe that was just a related area that Dr. Olakayude was currently focusing on. She turned to look elsewhere when one title grabbed her attention.

The bright red leather with black lettering said "White Female Sexual Response to Masterful Black Genitalia". The subtitle was more vulgar: "Why Anglo sluts worship fat nigger cock!"

Melissa gasped and closed her eyes, shaking her head. Surely she had not seen that on the shelf of a respected physician?! Opening her eyes again she found the book and sighed. The title clearly said: "Female Sexual Response: Genitalia".

"You little slut," Melissa thought, chiding herself. "You and your silly fantasies are going to get you in so much trouble! I need to get home as soon as possible and let Kevin relieve my stresses!" She smiled as she thought of her husband and the reception she could expect if Dr. Olakayude made her an offer. That would make the day perfect!

Turning to look at the traditional African paintings, Melissa drew in her breath sharply. The bright, colorful, swirling images seemed to all have a distinctly sexual character. The persons depicted were all big, stylized black men and all had massive sexual organs.

She felt a very odd sensation when she gazed at them. It was a tingle, a shudder deep inside, that seemed to run along her nerves like an electrical current. With an effort of will, Melissa tore her gaze from the, shivering and panting, and all too aware that she felt seepage and warmth between her legs.

The urging in her mind was too strong to resist, and she risked a glance back at the paintings. They showed traditional African village scenes, and no black pricks at all.

"My god," she thought, "What is wrong with me? I'm looking at perfectly innocent things and seeing phallic symbols. And not just any, but black ones!"

Trying to distract herself, she turned and her gaze settled on the shrine.

With a shudder, she felt her pussy begin to juice severely, warm fluid running down her thighs and she moaned, rubbing her legs together as she stared.

A huge, black phallus-no, a fat ebony cock-carved out of some pitch black wood stood in the wooden casing. It was a good 15 inches long and glistened as if it were wet. Melissa stared at it and unconsciously licked her lips as she moved her thighs against each other, trying to relieve the sudden overpowering itch between her legs.

"Oh god... why is this turning me on so much? Christ, I feel like such a whore..."

Staring at the obscene thing, glowing slightly in the red burning light of the incense stick, Melissa could not resist reaching out her slender hand, overpowered by the urge to touch it. Her fingers touched the smooth, hot wood, and it felt like flesh! She moaned softly and dropped her other hand between her skirt-covered legs and pressed, almost immediately feeling her pussy spasm, her clit throb, and an orgasm come boiling up-

"Ah, Dr. Nichols, thank you so VERY much for coming!" said a rich, accented voice.

Melissa's hands jerked back from the phallus and from between her legs. She straightened from the slightly hunched position she had assumed as she had begun to touch the sensitive triangle of her sex. Her face was flushed red as she turned to see the newcomer.

Dr. Dakore Olakayude was 6-and-a-half feet tall, strongly built, with short, tight salt-and-pepper hair and broad, cultured features. His skin was a rich chocolate brown. He stepped across the room and took Melissa's hand in a firm, friendly handshake.

"I am so happy to make your acquaintance, Doctor," the black physician said with a truly dazzling smile. "I hope that in our brief discussion, you will come to agree with me that working on our project is something that would benefit us both greatly."

Still breathing a bit heavily, Melissa managed an embarrassed smile and a weak, "Of course, Doctor." His strong hand guided her to the chair directly in front of his desk and assisted her to be seated. He then stepped around and sat in the leather office chair, idly picking up a broad, gold pen with an ornate clip at the end. He toyed with it as he spoke.

"Shall I begin at once, Dr. Nichols? Or perhaps you would prefer a few moments of small talk, and then Jonas may serve our tea?"

Melissa was not sure she trusted herself to speak intelligently about the possible job offer just yet. The lower half of her body still throbbed and tingled from the orgasm she'd had to squelch. She felt like all it would take would be one little push to send her spiraling into a massive climax, and this was definitely not the time nor the place! Swallowing hard, she decided the best thing to do would be to get right to an understanding.

"Dr. Olakayude, sir, I am honored that you would consider me for this Research Project, but in all honesty I was not aware that you need an obstetrician. In fact, while I've known about your work for most of the time I've been working here, I'm not sure what all it is you do. And again, to be honest, I've never been that interested in research anyway."

He smiled and nodded. "I know these things, my dear Dr. Nichols, and I wish to be as forthcoming as I may. You understand that I cannot reveal everything, as much of our work is proprietary, but I will be happy to tell you what you would be working on. As far as your disinterest, I think that will make you a remarkably honest observer and participant-and the remuneration we would offer can do wonders for the clinic you wish to set up after you leave the project."

Dr. Olakayude rose and pulled a display chart from its casing on the wall behind his desk.

"Allow me to explain your role." He quickly sketched a hierarchical diagram on the chart. "Your place as a doctor of obstetrics would be to see to the reproductive tract health of our subjects. This is where you would begin. You would very quickly then take a place on this next higher level, where you would assist in preparing our subjects for the testing we do, again with an emphasis on obstetrics and the operation of the lower tracts of the female. There would also come a time when you would likely be asked to join a control group to compare results with our primary test subjects. Finally, the major backers of this project do like to observe from time to time, and you would almost certainly be required to assist in those procedures."

He pushed the display chart back into the wall and came to stand beside Melissa's chair. "As you can see, the position requires your specialty of obstetrics quite strongly. Some of the later elements will allow you to expand your horizons and we can probably arrange some extra certifications at the end of your term with us, if you would like."

Melissa smiled at the handsome older doctor and chewed a finger prettily. "That sounds intriguing, although I must say you don't provide a lot of detail on what my duties would be."

"To begin with, primarily those of any obstetrician, a good opportunity to brush up and get an excellent start on your abilities. Later duties would depend on how well you performed earlier ones. We have had some researchers move very swiftly from the lower echelons into higher positions. Having examined your records, I suspect you would be on the way to the top levels very quickly."

Melissa blushed at the compliment. Her years of hard study appeared to be paying off. She opened her mouth to speak, but Dr. Olakayude laughed and waved off her question.

"I know what you will ask, and I will tell you. A weekly stipend of $3,950 will be paid for your services, and at the end of your term, a completion bonus of $155,000 would be deposited in the bank of your choice."

Her eyes widened at the amounts offered, and she shook her head in disbelief. As she did so, her gaze trailed across the paintings on the walls-and they were once again of obscenely-cocked black gods, but now with great gouts of white pouring from the ends.

"OH MY GOD!" Melissa shouted and bolted up out of her seat. Dr. Olakayude jumped in astonishment. He had been about to resume his place in his own chair, and regarded the shocked woman with some consternation.

"My dear Dr. Nichols, is there something wrong?" As he settled in his chair, he picked up his gold pen once more.

Melissa stammered and blushed and turned to point out the paintings to the older man-and they were once again innocuous village scenes. For a moment, she stared at them, doubting her own sanity, then slowly resumed her place. It took a moment for her to summon up the courage to speak.

"I-I'm sorry, I-I was j-just admiring the a-artwork y-you have h-here," she said huskily. The older doctor's severe expression lifted, and he smiled. His teeth were as alarmingly white against his black skin as Jonas' had been.

"Thank you, my good doctor," he replied. "The traditions of our fathers are important to us in Nigeria, from the very oldest thousands of years old to the very newest..." He moved the gold pen as he commented on the art, and Melissa felt her eyes drawn to the flashing metal. His voice droned, pleasantly rich and pleasingly accented, and she began drifting as she listened. "... and the paintings represent cultural icons, the mores of the peoples, the lust of white whores for fat black cocks, lust such as you are feeling..."

"WHAT?!" Melissa sat straight up in the chair, her face a mask of shock and horror. "What did you say?!"

Dr. Olakayude looked at the attractive young doctor with a look of surprise and alarm, his pen poised, pointing at one of the paintings on the wall. "Why, just that the paintings represent life before western ways fragmented the basic common values, like they did for so many years throughout the world."