Chapter 1 Hard at Work, Naked in the Hot Sun
Caution: This Action/Adventure Sex Story contains strong sexual content, including Ma/Fa, Fa/Fa, Consensual, Romantic, Lesbian, BDSM, Sadistic, .
Desc: Action/Adventure Sex Story: Chapter 1 Hard at Work, Naked in the Hot Sun - Harriet goes to Africa to help the Third World and becomes a Toiling Captive.
Two years and nine months had passed since three young ex-public school girls had successfully completed a bizarre and frequently chilly initiation test. This test had taken them on a journey across their native land, bringing them face to face with all manner of remarkable and frequently frightening people.
It was August now and very hot in Africa, especially for the work-hardened fair-skinned girl toiling naked under the burning sun.
Harriet paused for a second in her attack on the piece of rock, in order to wipe the sweat away. It was getting into her eyes and she had no choice but to risk a punishment for slacking. Happily for her, the guards had their attention elsewhere - they knew by this time that she was a hard and tireless worker and this pair had recently ceased to bother her much - so she resumed her powerful, remorseless and skilful demolition of the rock, her strong, scarred, gleaming back and sweating, well-muscled buttocks, for a mercy unmolested.
She poised her impressively strong body, flexed her powerful biceps and shoulder muscles, and coming up onto the toes of her hardened bare feet, prepared to wield those final few well-aimed, powerful blows of the pickaxe which would finally reduce the rock to fragments - a feat she had performed so many times recently, that she found herself dreaming about it at nights.
She had wanted the body of a female Goliath, and this had been granted to her in full measure - although not lately in the way she would have liked. She could bear comparison to any man in the workforce - some of them were magnificent specimens - and even in her present awful predicament she gloried in her strong and muscular body and her amazing stamina. She recalled how many times before her capture she had had to buy new clothes to fit her increasingly muscular body. No worries on that score since she had been kidnapped and forced to walk naked carrying all manner of heavy equipment through the forests and savannahs, finally ending up in this lair helping to build the base for the final battle.
Another obstacle in the path of the runway construction project had been cleared and she shovelled up the fragments and wheeled them away to be used as spoil later. There were plenty more rocks to remove and plenty more irregularities to be evened out and depressions to be filled in and plenty more pushing of the heavy roller and laying of concrete before the long runway would be ready. And what then? They would hardly need her services when automatic rollers and mechanised excavating machinery had been flown in. The other labourers were all volunteers, albeit rather reluctant ones, and they would in all probability go back to their villages, but the despised white prisoner would very likely be surplus to requirements - a useless mouth to feed. She wondered how long it would be before this base had been turned into some sort of springboard for a final assault on the capital and the likely death of all those good friends in high government positions that she she had made in those productive and happy months before her capture.
For the hundredth time in the course of this long day she reflected that this was the second anniversary of her arrival in Africa and to this strife-torn country. It was also the end of a year as the prisoner of the Marxist rebels who had so much of the land in their merciless grip. She had little hope of rescue - all her friends thought she was dead - and none of escape. All her efforts to get away had been miserable failures and she had no wish to suffer further uncomfortable retribution. Indeed she had been told that just one more attempt to leave would be her last act in this world and she had a shrewd idea that her exit from life would not be made easy.
"To think I once had some sympathy for these horrible people" she mutterd under her breath as she remembered the juvenile Communist sympathies which she had once inflicted on friend and family alike. It pained and shamed her to think that her good work in her first year for a VSO project had been utterly negated by the contribution she was being forced into now in her second twelvemonth, helping these evil butchers to enslave and destroy a country and people she had come to love, if not admire. She ought to refuse to do any more for them and damn the consequences - she knew one brave friend who would long ago have done just that - and now that all hope of escape or rescue seemed gone, she resolved either to make one more escape attempt or simply refuse to do any more work for these monsters.
"One more day of this, and if nothing shows up (which it won't) I'll bring it to an end one way or another. Who wants to go on living anyway if this is all life has to offer?" Such was her desparing thought.
One of the other workers came up to her with a cup of water which she eagerly gulped down. It was her first drink for four hours - they had denied her the last two-hourly drink, allegedly for not working hard enough - as if! She did more than any two of these other useless people put together.
She was European and hated by her fanatic captors - a subhuman member of a former colonial ruling caste fit only to be used as a beast of burden and regularly beaten and flogged as a way of making her work even harder. At least she had no fear of being raped, as any contact with her was deemed to be defiling to these glorious fighters for freedom. Not that she didn't frequently get plenty of lusting glances from her captors. But discipline was so vicious and so cruelly enforced, that nobody dared touch her except to slap her around from time to time - and that she could easily handle. If discipline ever did break down, she dreaded to think what might happen to her at the hands of some of these men - although it would take three of them at least to overpower her, if they ever did decide on anything.
The second four hour shift was over and the grateful workers went off for four hours rest and a meal. Harriet carried on without pausing. A new pair of guards ambled on to the site and one of them longingly eyed her supple and inviting buttocks. This tiresome bastard took a particular delight in lambasting her bottom and she had not missed his absence at all over the few days. The last time she had been under his care she had had to lie on her front and side at night, she had been so sore. Despite this she had far less fear of him than some of the others - she had a notion that he was not really such a bad guy, in spite of his rather infantile obsession with her butt. And a slap on the bottom was nowhere near as bad as what they regularly did to her back with those rhinocerous hide whips whose lashing she would most likely feel again in a few days.
Two more shifts to go and she would eat for the first time since sunrise and then sleep like one of the dead in her wire mesh open-to-the-elements cage. She was secretly proud of her ability to work sixteen hours a day seven days a week non -stop except for a few seconds now and again to down a draught of water. (She had willingly worked almost as hard and long as a volunteer worker).
They would curse her if she took too long over her sheduled drink and deny her the next one, so that the thirst threatened to drive her mad as the sweat continued to pour from her toiling body, a body which was never suffered to ease up for a second.
Two more four hour shifts and if she slowed down they had plenty of ways of making her sorry. Once, very early in her captivity they had staked her out spreadeagled in the sun for three days with nothing to eat in all that time. She had been given a cup of water at sunset. There had been some sort of holiday decreed for the rebels and that had been their way of making sure she was no trouble whilst they celebrated and feasted.
From the earliest days in their clutches she had been horribly shocked at the way they treated those fellow countrymen who refused to join them. She understood their hostility to her as a hated symbol of colonialism, but not their terrible of their own people if they failed to share their views. How she missed tolerant, easy going England where such passions were almost unknown! If she ever by some miracle got back home, she vowed that she would never again leave it - not as long as she lived.
Over the last two years Harriet had grown up a lot and seen things that still gave her nightmares. She remembered Bernard who had made such exciting love to her. She still had hopes, even though he had ultimately become bored by the juvenile and naive schoolgirl she had been at the time. He would think differently about her now, she proudly thought. She had experienced things which would bear comparison with his most stomach churning and blood curdling tales. He might be a hard man but by this time she was at least as hard as he - a great deal harder! Tough or not - she would still shed tears whenever she thought about him.
She also wept copiously at night when she thought about Gwen and Jessica, especially Gwendoline, that wild, eccentric, sometimes savagely sadistic, but ultimately lovely girl. Those two meant more to her than her own parents, her affable and generous but distant titled father and her scatter-brained mother. As for her twin brothers who were twenty years her senior, she had never really known them, or wanted to.
As she had feared, the Guard's obsession with her pneumatic buttocks soon caused him to start turning them red, grinning half-wittedly as he did so. Harriet, on the verge of one last act of defiance, half decided to down tools there and then. Before she came to this fatal act of rebellion he was called away by a superior. He did not return for the rest of the day and the prisoner's determination to stay the course returned to her.
At the end of another gruelling sixteen hours under a burning sun which still caused her pale skin much discomfort, they threw her, as usual, into her cage and locked her in with food, drink and that disgusting bucket in the corner, which she would have to empty in the morning. She stretched out on the earthen floor, trying not to think of snakes and scorpions, and reviewed all that had happened to her since the end of that memorable journey of initiation so many long months months ago.
At first she had slipped back into her former lifestyle, but her life of ease had come to a sudden end when she received that phone call from Gwen.