Chapter 8

Monkey Walk

Sylvia held onto those precious three days of normalcy. On Friday, she dedicated the entire day to much-needed rest, and her body responded swiftly to the reprieve. Despite the massage session being a humiliating ordeal, the therapeutic effects of the massage oil, coupled with her naturally robust health, facilitated a rapid recovery.

As her body regained its strength, Saturday became a day of reflection for Sylvia. The torment inflicted by the three bullies had subjected her to unimaginable humiliations, especially the sexual perverse ordeals that defied adequate description. Wrestling with the aftermath, Sylvia contemplated her role in the situation—had she unintentionally triggered them? Was there something she could have done differently?

Throughout the day, Sylvia immersed herself in yoga, seeking solace and balance in the confines of her cabin. By evening, a palpable improvement in her overall well-being had taken root, providing a welcome respite from the emotional toll of the recent torment.

On Sunday, Sylvia gathered the courage to venture outside. Confronted with the pressing need to replenish her supplies, she embarked on a trip to the grocery store. Initially, she maintained a lowered gaze, deliberately avoiding any eye contact, wrestling with the uncertainty of who might have witnessed her harrowing public ordeal—the degrading punishment and the humiliating walk of shame.

The vivid images of herself being caned by four teenagers, stripped naked in public, the lashes landing on her most private areas, forcing her to dance shamefully in response to the searing pain, coupled with the graphic memory of experiencing a squirting climax, almost made her run back to her cabin in a desperate retreat.

However, she recognized the stark reality: she had no choice. The pressing need for sustenance prevailed, as Sylvia realized she hadn’t eaten anything in the past two days. With a sense of determination, she continued walking, navigating the internal turmoil and external challenges that accompanied her public humiliation.

To her surprise, Sylvia noticed that, apart from a few faint murmurs she couldn’t quite catch, many people appeared oblivious to her recent ordeal. Some even greeted her with a casual hello. She reasoned that perhaps they hadn’t witnessed her in that vulnerable state. Reflecting on the Aprico Island’s population of over twenty thousand, thousands in her town, Sylvia realized that only a few dozen had been the witness to her humiliating experience. Sylvia realized that she shouldn’t fixate on the few dozen who had witnessed her most humiliating state but rather focus on the thousands of people in the town who hadn’t seen it. This shift in perspective brought her a sense of relief and improvement in her overall well-being.

Buoyed by this realization, she reciprocated greetings as she walked back home with her groceries, feeling a notable improvement in her overall well-being. The act of acknowledging and being acknowledged by others offered a sense of normalcy and empowerment, helping Sylvia reclaim a semblance of control over her life.

Upon returning to her cabin around dusk, anticipating the joy of preparing a delicious dinner for herself, Sylvia was greeted by a box on her dining table. The accompanying memo starkly stated, ‘wear this to school tomorrow,’ and it was unmistakably from the bullies. A sinking feeling gripped her heart, and with hands trembling, she hesitantly opened the box.

At first glance, it appeared to be a mere piece of string. Yet, upon closer inspection, it revealed itself as a string bikini, a slingshot—a one-piece swimsuit. However, this version was essentially a string, a narrow strip of fabric barely a centimeter wide, fashioned in a Y-shape. The top of the Y was intended to rest around her neck, leaving the rest of the garment as a minimalistic strip down the middle of her body.

If the previous dress had left her virtually exposed, this new garment would literally leave her exposed. The realization hit her like a ton of bricks, and her legs felt like jelly. The emotional rollercoaster from feeling so good to the depths of despair left her utterly speechless and disheartened.

The night was a restless ordeal for Sylvia. The fleeting taste of three days of total normalcy had momentarily restored a sense of normality to her life, and the prospect of returning to the previous torment was unbearable. The friendly interactions she had experienced the day before, with people saying hello, intensified her reluctance to succumb to the degrading piece of string that awaited her.

As the morning sun ushered in a new day, Sylvia faced a critical decision. Those precious moments of normalcy had ignited a resolve within her. Despite a lifetime of timidity and easily succumbing to fear, Sylvia mustered the courage to make a stand. This marked the first time in her life that she summoned the strength to say no, refusing to comply with the dehumanizing expectations thrust upon her.

She adorned herself in underpants and a triple-D size bra, layering them with a sundress and completing the ensemble with her tennis shoes. Gazing at her reflection in the mirror, Sylvia resolved to convey to the bullies that she would no longer yield to their commands. The determination to resist swelled within her. If they resorted to violence, she vowed to scream, counting on the friendly folks who had greeted her the day before to come to her aid. Despite this resolve, her hands trembled, and her legs felt like jelly as she took the brave step of walking out of her cabin.

To her astonishment, the trio of bullies awaited her just outside her cabin. There was a mutual surprise—Sylvia’s shock stemming from their presence and the bullies’ surprise at seeing their usually compliant target in normal clothes. Matumbo greeted her with a falsely pleasant, “Good morning, Mrs. Sylvia. We were looking forward to walking with you to school, but we’re disappointed that you didn’t wear the outfit we instructed you to. Can you go back in and change?”

Despite Sylvia’s mental preparation to respond assertively, having repeated her refusal a dozen times that morning, the words that escaped her mouth were a plea rather than a proclamation. “No, I won’t. You can’t bully me anymore. Please leave me alone!”—this was what she had rehearsed. However, when the moment arrived, what she actually uttered was a trembling plea: “P-please ... no ... no ... please ... I beg you ... please ... I can’t ... please...” Her refusal was not delivered with courage but with her characteristic timidity, accompanied by tears streaming down her face as she found herself in the vulnerable state of crying and begging.

“Mrs. Sylvia, don’t you remember the video we have? You know, the one with your neighbor’s boy fingering your asshole? And you climaxing and squirting your cum all over his face? Remember that? You want us to send that video to the police?” Matumbo asked.

The realization hit her like a ton of bricks. sylvia had completely forgotten about that compromising video. Panic surged within her, intensifying her pleas even further. Desperate to avoid the townspeople seeing her in virtual nudity, she proposed a compromise. Begging harder, she offered to do anything in private, in her cabin, to please them but pleaded fervently to let her keep her current clothes on in public to walk to school.

Matumbo in response said, “I can’t promise to limit our games to private settings only, as we have so much fun together with you in public. However, I can allow you to keep all of your clothes on if that’s your only wish. So, if you promise to do everything we order, I will let you keep your clothes on. Do you agree?” Sylvia, fixated on the sole objective of ‘keeping all of her clothes on’, agreed without a moment’s hesitation. At times, even Matumbo himself marveled at the agility of his own mind.

Matumbo pressed on, emphasizing the gravity of Sylvia’s commitment. “You’ve promised, so if you disobey any of our commands from this very second, we won’t just send the tape to the police. We’ll strip you of all your clothes, leaving you stark naked. And let me tell you, that would be just the beginning. If you thought the walk of shame and public whipping were bad, it’s going to be nothing compared to what we’re going to do to you if you disobey after I grant your wish based on your promise,” he declared with a menacing expression etched across his face. Sylvia realized it wasn’t a question. The chilling realization dawned on her that she might have made a mistake agreeing to his proposal so quick, but it was already too late. She heard Matumbo’s next words before she had a chance to think what to say.

Matumbo issued his first order, commanding, “Okay, my first order: raise and roll up your sundress, all the way up, and bite them with your mouth. Now! Move!” Sylvia was taken aback by this unexpected demand. “Please, but you promised that I could keep...” she started to protest, but Matumbo interrupted, stating, “I didn’t tell you to take it off. Keep it on your body, in your mouth.” Sylvia meekly protested, “Please, that’s not fair ... please...”

Matumbo shifted his attention to Gambe, instructing him to fetch the dog from one of the neighbors. “You know the black one, the big one that looks like a cow. The one that’s in heat all the time and tries to fuck anything that moves,” Matumbo specified. Gambe responded, “I know which one you’re talking about!” Matumbo concluded, “By the time you return with that dog, Mrs. Sylvia will be stripped naked and she will be in ready position to be fucked ... By the dog.”

Sylvia struggled to comprehend the shocking command, but knowing Matumbo, she knew it wasn’t an empty threat. The realization that he would carry out such an act nearly caused her to faint. “I ... I’m sorry ... I’ll do it. P ... please ... Matumbo, pl ... ease,” she pleaded. With those words, she hurriedly pulled her sundress up, rolling it as much as possible, and bit it into her mouth, exposing her body clad only in a bra and panties.

Matumbo took a step forward, positioning himself directly in front of her, and pushed more of her sundress into her mouth. “Open your mouth wider, Mrs. Sylvia. I’m going to let you off the hook one time, and one time only. From this moment, if you disobey or even hesitate, you’ll be having sex with a dog, you got that? Nod if you understand.” Sylvia nodded vigorously; her mouth stretched wide to accommodate the substantial fabric of her sundress.

Matumbo took a step back and commanded, “Now, pull your bra up. Yes, let your cow titties out.” Sylvia, gripped by fear at the mention of having sex with a dog, complied. As she pulled her bra up without unbuttoning it, her ample breasts hung freely. They were perfect—large yet firm, heavy but not sagging, adorned with small pink nipples. Tears welled up in her eyes.

Matumbo proceeded with the next command, instructing her to pull down her panties. “Just to your knees, right there ... Now, stand up, but make sure the panties are on your knees, not below, not above. You’ll have to keep your legs wider to do that, Mrs. Sylvia.”

Sylvia lowered her panties, revealing her exquisite buttocks. Gambe and Marimbo, positioned behind her, marveled at the beauty of her buttocks—large yet not fat, firm yet soft, shaped like two perfect peaches. The pristine white purity of her skin was interrupted only by the faint traces of rubber rod whip marks, barely visible now.

Sylvia stood upright, complying with Matumbo’s command to release her panties, thereby exposing her hairy vulva to Matumbo, standing in front of her. To ensure her panties remained at knee level without sliding up or down, Sylvia had to stand bowlegged, stretching the waistband with her knees to either side. The degrading position left her overwhelmed with a profound sense of humiliation, and Sylvia began to sob in earnest.

“Raise your hands above your head,” Matumbo ordered. Sylvia was all too familiar with what this meant. She lifted her hands, arms extended almost touching her head, reaching as high as she could. This particular hand position was Matumbo’s favorite.

“Now, let’s walk. If your panties slide up or down from your knees, we’ll be hitting you ... oh, we don’t have ... Marimbo, why don’t you go in and bring out the broom. You don’t mind us borrowing your broom, Mrs. Sylvia? and also, bring out the outfit we gave to Mrs. Sylvia ... I have a feeling before today’s school is over, Mrs. Sylvia will want to wear that. Hehehe...”

It hit Sylvia like a sudden revelation – the colossal mistake she had made. Believing she could defy the bullies, that she could put an end to all of this, was nothing more than an illusion. And now, that mistake led her to her current fate – a humiliating walk to school. A 15-minute journey across the dirt road, passing numerous houses and stores, with her intimate areas fully exposed. Her sundress lodged in her mouth, bra pulled up around her shoulders, panties down to her knees. Walking with bowed legs to the side to maintain the panties at her knees, Sylvia couldn’t fathom anything more degrading than this.

“Walk!” she heard Marimbo command, and immediately, a sharp WHACK! followed, the searing pain shooting through her crotch. Marimbo swung the broomstick, connecting with a forceful blow to her plump vulva mounds.

Sylvia’s screams were muffled by the mouthful of her sundress. Sylvia’s panties slid down to her ankles. Despite keeping her hands raised high, the searing pain in her vulva compelled her to move her legs, involuntarily squeezing them together.

Matumbo leaned down and readjusted Sylvia’s panties back to her knees. “Here’s a rule I forgot to mention, Mrs. Sylvia. If your panties go up or down from your knees, you get 2 hits. The person holding the broomstick decides the location, as that would be the fairest thing to do, hehehe...” Sylvia cried, the pain still lingering in her vulva.

In the degrading posture that seemed to amplify her vulnerability, Sylvia stood bowlegged with her hands raised high above her head. Marimbo ordered her to close her eyes. The first penalty, the excruciating blow landed directly on her ample triple-D breasts. The sheer intensity of the pain forced Sylvia to scream into the fabric of her sundress, which she clutched tightly in her mouth. Despite the searing pain, she summoned every ounce of strength to maintain her position, acutely aware of the necessity to keep her legs apart to prevent her panties from sliding further down. The shame and humiliation washed over her in waves as she endured each degrading moment, tears mingling with the fabric as she struggled to endure the relentless torment.

Continuing the merciless ordeal, Marimbo commanded Sylvia to close her eyes once more. The air was filled with a sickening anticipation before the resounding WHACK echoed through the air, the impact landing squarely on her plump vulva. The searing pain shot through Sylvia’s body, compelling her to scream into the fabric gagging her mouth. Due to the agonizing pain in her crotch, she instinctively pulled her hips back, desperately attempting to ease the intense pain assaulting her most intimate area. All the while, she clung to the bowlegged stance, diligently keeping her legs apart to ensure her panties remained at her knees. The unbearable mix of humiliation, shame, and physical pain weighed heavily on this 32 year old beautiful white woman, her body a canvas for the perverse symphony orchestrated by her dark skinned local teenage tormentors.

“Shall we start walking, teacher? We wouldn’t want to be tardy ... hehehe...” Matumbo’s words carried a malevolent glee as Sylvia reluctantly took her first step, each movement a bowlegged ballet of absurdity and humiliation. Her dress clung awkwardly to her chin and gagged her mouth, the bra hanging forlornly below her shoulders, and the panties retained a shameful grip on her knees. Every inch of her private anatomy—large breasts, ample buttocks, and hairy vulva—was laid bare, exposed to the world in a grotesque display. With every ludicrous step, Sylvia bore the weight of profound humiliation, walking in the most absurd manner possible, a white woman in the company of three African boys, each step reinforcing her degradation.

As Sylvia commenced her bowlegged walk, Matumbo reveled in the unfolding spectacle. The day had taken an unexpected turn. His initial plan to subject his teacher to the embarrassment of a slingshot bikini had evolved into an even more audacious display. Here was his 32-year-old white school teacher, escorting him and his friends to school in a manner satisfactory to his deviant and sadistic taste.

Matumbo found a twisted sense of pride in this audacious and creatively degrading posture, relishing the sight of his teacher walking in this comical, monkey-like manner, her hands awkwardly suspended above her head. The air crackled with an unsettling mixture of Matumbo’s satisfaction and Sylvia’s profound humiliation.

In the quiet dawn of Monday morning, Sylvia sought a fleeting refuge in the seclusion of her neighbors’ still-shuttered cabins. Urgently navigating her way through the hushed surroundings, she endeavored to propel herself forward, an attempt to hasten her journey while grappling with the persistent threat of her panties betraying her on the descent down her knees. The panties’ waistband was stretched tautly over the gap between her widely separated knees, which were in a bowlegged stance. This awkward configuration, a result of the insidious demands placed upon her, rendered her walk a contorted ballet of degradation.

With her legs splayed apart and bent unnaturally to the sides, Sylvia’s aim was to walk as fast as she could and pass the familiar stretch of her neighborhood block, a cluster of timeworn cabins that stood witness to the unfolding calamity. Each step she took, burdened with the weight of her exposed vulnerability, resonated with the internal turmoil and humiliation she experienced. The struggle to maintain composure and the dread of encountering any inquisitive gazes heightened the torment she bore. Her anguish manifested not only in the ache of her jaws, strained from clamping down on the rolled-up sundress that filled her mouth, but also in the throbbing discomfort coursing through her limbs. Yet, above all, it was the palpable heartache of enduring this forced spectacle that gnawed at Sylvia’s soul with every agonizing step.

As they progressed halfway towards the school, a passerby approached, a man whose face was vaguely familiar to Sylvia from previous encounters in town. His candid inquiry echoed through the quiet morning air, revealing a curious familiarity with the ongoing spectacle.

“Hey, boys, is this another punishment for your teacher? What did she do wrong this time?” The words landed like searing embers on Sylvia’s flushed cheeks, igniting a blush of shame. Despite the internal turmoil, she fought against the urge to conceal her exposed vulnerability, holding steadfast to the degrading walk imposed upon her.

Gambe, one of the tormentors, responded with a sinister chuckle, “No, sir, we’re just playing games. She lost a bet. Hehehe...” The man retorted with a sarcastic tone, “Quite the game you guys have going on there. Take it easy, lady. You wouldn’t want another public lashing, would you?” His casual reference to her recent ordeal, the so-called “Police Sanctioned Public Punishment” from the preceding Thursday, revealed that he had been a witness to her most humiliating spectacle.

As the encounter unfolded, Sylvia grappled not only with the acute humiliation of her current predicament but also with the haunting memory of recent public scrutiny. Then, Sylvia was confronted with an additional layer of shock and shame, one that intensified the already overwhelming humiliation. A startling realization swept over her as she became acutely aware of the heat building up within her vulva. The unmistakable sensation of wetness signaled the onset of arousal, a disconcerting revelation that sent shivers of embarrassment and panic down her spine.

As Sylvia grappled with the disturbing awareness of her body’s involuntary response, a fresh wave of anxiety surged through her. She could feel the arousal fluid forming and collecting, creating an uncomfortable warmth that, to her dismay, started to trickle down from her exposed vulva. Panic set in as she contemplated the potential notice of this intimate physiological reaction by her tormentors.

Caught in this vulnerable state, with her hands raised above her head and legs awkwardly spread in a bowlegged stance, Sylvia found herself utterly defenseless against the prying eyes of the trio. The exposed state of her panties and the downward pull of gravity on her arousal fluid left her feeling exposed and humiliated, fearing that her bullies would not only revel in her physical degradation but also notice the involuntary response of her own body, further amplifying the shame that already consumed her.

In that harrowing moment, self-loathing coursed through Sylvia’s veins, an overpowering emotion that mingled with the already intense humiliation and shame. The realization of her own arousal in the absence of any physical stimulation left her grappling with an inner conflict that deepened her sense of degradation.

Contemplating the nature of her body’s response, Sylvia couldn’t fathom how, in the midst of such a degrading and humiliating act, arousal could take hold. No hands caressed her, no vibrators or dildos penetrated her private areas, and there was no physical contact that would typically elicit such a response. It was the sheer humiliation of exposing herself in public, coupled with the degradation of her monkey like walk, that seemed to provoke this unwelcome reaction.

The thought that her body could betray her in this way, responding to a scenario devoid of pleasure or consensual intimacy, intensified Sylvia’s self-hatred. The absence of any external stimulation, apart from the cruel exposure and public degradation, made her internal conflict all the more tormenting. As she continued her bowlegged walk, Sylvia grappled not only with the humiliation imposed by these African boys but also with the unexpected and bewildering reactions of her own body, fueling a profound sense of shame and disgust toward herself.

As the degrading procession continued, a few more passersby entered the scene, each adding to the cacophony of shame and humiliation that surrounded Sylvia. Some couldn’t resist making jeering remarks, while others openly laughed at the absurdity of the spectacle. The air was thick with the weight of judgment, and voices in the crowd began to rise, yelling accusations like, “Have you no shame, white woman!”

Sylvia, in her vulnerable state, could not comprehend the hostility directed at her. In her mind, the situation was clear—she was coerced by these African boys with threats of violence into this humiliating display, and that should be obvious to anyone seeing her tear stained face. Yet, what she failed to grasp was the deep-seated animosity rooted in the region’s harsh colonial history. The locals harbored a profound resentment, a visceral reaction triggered by the scars of colonial oppression. It was an extreme reaction to the most extreme oppression the local Aprico Islanders, their ancestors, had experienced.

For the locals, seeing a white woman in a compromised situation invoked a reflexive judgment, driven by the collective memory of exploitation and resistance. The dynamics of power and prejudice, intertwined with the weight of history, played out on the public stage as Sylvia, unwittingly entangled in this complex narrative, continued her bowlegged journey amidst the scornful gazes and pointed comments of onlookers.

Finally, they approached the entrance of Aprico Island Reform School, and passed the grocery store. The grocery store, once a mundane backdrop to Sylvia’s daily life, the same establishment that had done her routine shopping just a day earlier morphed into a grotesque theater of degradation.

The same clothing, which Sylvia had worn with decency during her uneventful grocery run, now clung to her in a manner that defied all social norms. The fabric, meant to shield and cover, paradoxically accentuated her vulnerability. The same garments adorned her, yet their placement was utterly askew—her dress and bra defiantly above her shoulders, while her panties awkwardly dangled by her knees. The mismatched layers left her fully nude and exposed, caught between the futile attempts at concealment.

Drawing closer to this spectacle, the store owner, a fat woman in her 50s, couldn’t conceal her shock. “Oh my lord, what have we got here? Sylvia, my friend, I thought you learned your lesson in decency and decided to behave when you came in yesterday. Are you now back to your perversion game, with your students ... What are we going to do with you, you ... shameless white woman!” The store owner’s words, delivered with a blend of mock surprise and genuine concern, reverberated through the air, intensifying Sylvia’s acute sense of humiliation and shame.

The store owner, in an oddly casual manner, shifted the conversation from shock to practical matters. “Well, anyhow, I need to give you this cucumber that you paid for yesterday; you left it on the counter.” The store owner lady handed Sylvia a cucumber—thick and long. Sylvia hesitated, her hands still obediently raised above her head, rendering her unable to accept the vegetables.

Matumbo intervened and took the cucumber from the store lady’s grasp. “Well, teacher, this cucumber is yours, and you need to carry it. But how could you, with your hands raised like that? Would you like to carry them in your pussy? No, that would be a sexual stimulation, and we don’t want to cause you to have an orgasm. How about your anus? That shouldn’t stimulate you sexually, a decent woman like you. Your anus is a biological organ, that’s where this would come out anyhow if you ate it. Hehehe...”

The sinister mockery and suggestion hung in the air, laden with menace. Sylvia’s eyes widened with impending dread. She wanted desperately to release the sundress from her wide-open mouth and refuse, prepared to shake her head vehemently. However, Matumbo, with an evil glint in his eyes, forestalled her attempt, stating, “Nod if your answer is yes.”

Sylvia, tears streaming down her face, sobbed as she reluctantly nodded her head in agreement. The weight of her decision, a concession to avoid further punishment, settled heavily on her already burdened shoulders. The act of carrying cucumbers in the most intimate part of her body added a layer of degradation that intensified her sense of humiliation and shame. The thin line between coercion and compliance blurred further as Sylvia braced herself for the imminent, most degrading, and humiliating act that these boys were about to subject her to – inserting that long thick cucumber into her tight anus, out here in public, dirt road just outside of their school.

Marimba took the thick cucumber from Matumbo, and that’s when he made the unexpected discovery. Amidst their mocking laughter at Sylvia’s peculiar walk, they had failed to notice a crucial detail until now. Marimbo’s exclamation filled the air, “Mrs. Sylvia is soaking wet—look at her pussy! It’s dripping with her pussy juice, look at her thighs, all wet with her cum juice!” Gambe chimed in loudly, “Wow, how did we miss that!”

Sylvia wished she could close her eyes and vanish. The overwhelming shame consumed her as Marimbo continued, “Hey, auntie,” addressing the store owner, “I swear we didn’t touch her! She’s all wet by herself!” The public revelation of her arousal, unintended and involuntary, magnified Sylvia’s humiliation, leaving her in a state of profound embarrassment and self-loathing.

Marimbo’s mockery persisted as he seized the opportunity to intensify Sylvia’s humiliation. “Well, good for you, Mrs. Sylvia,” he sneered. “I was about to ask the auntie to give us some oil to put this in your asshole, but, well, you’re providing your own lubrication.” With a taunting tone, he squatted down in front of the thoroughly humiliated Sylvia and began sliding the cucumber up and down her soaking wet vulva crack. Sylvia, unable to articulate her distress due to the sundress gagging her, emitted involuntary moans, each sound a testament to her escalating degradation and torment.

Marimbo, with a mocking tone, suggested, “I think we need to dip this into the oil bottle.” He continued his degrading commentary, addressing Sylvia, “This is just to lubricate the cucumber to protect your asshole, so, don’t go crazy on me and have an orgasm or squirt on my face, like you squirted your cum on Omari’s face.” The store owner, taken aback, interjected, “What did you say, Matumbo? What did she do, squirted on Omari’s face? Oh, that poor boy. I don’t think he has even seen a woman, yet. Such an innocent and nice boy. Shame on you, Sylvia!” The old lady’s reprimand added another layer of condemnation to Sylvia’s already overwhelming sense of shame and humiliation. The public revelation of a past transgression, coupled with the impending degrading act, deepened Sylvia’s despair as she stood there, exposed and defenseless, with her bullies orchestrating her degradation for their sadistic amusement.