Chapter 7

Joe arrived at the little town several hours later. There he found Moure and a pair of Rovers. Moure was sleeping under one and Joe had to lay down on the ground and stick his leg underneath to jab the man awake.

Inside the Rovers was the equipment he'd been unable to carry with him downriver. There was a second Uzi, and a number of other weapons, including explosives. Joe pulled out a stick of dynamite and looked at it, promising himself he was going to stuff it up that Captain's asshole and light it.

"Where we go, Boss?" Moure queried.

"Where's the nearest army base?"

"That be north, near Bwale."

"That's where we're goin'."

"Them no good, Boss."

"That's for sure. I gotta find someone, though."

"Hokay, Boss."

A couple of hours later they were parked across the road and a half mile down from the entrance to the army base. It wasn't a big place as things went, but it was heavily guarded. Joe studied it through his binoculars, looking for the most likely buildings where they would take prisoners.

Fortunately, there weren't many. Most of the structures were obviously barracks. A few were supply type buildings, and a garage or two. There were only two buildings that looked likely to be housing prisoners, and one of them, the one with an extra barbed wire fence around it seemed to be number one.

He watched the soldiers doing their rounds and curled his lip. They were typical of African soldiers, sloppy and poorly disciplined and trained. He didn't think it would be very hard to penetrate this base. Getting through the second fence would be only slightly harder. There were no guards on it, but plenty of light.

He looked around the base a little more. There was there didn't seem to be any kind of generator. That mean that the power came in from the big dam fifty miles off. It would not be hard to cut the wire outside the base. Barring bad luck, he'd find Mandy tonight, or rather, tomorrow morning, around three.

Mandy had come several times before the multiple fucks ended. The truck slowed near a fence and several of the soldiers pulled her back into place on the bench and put her clothes back around her. One even gave her a rough wipe between the legs and over the tits with a rag.

The truck pulled through the gate and into what seemed to be some kind of army base. They drove over to a building with another fence around it and the truck stopped. A few seconds later the officer in charge came back from the jeep and Mandy was pulled down from the truck, which drove away.

The man led her through a gate and up the walk to the two story windowless building. There was a thick steel door and he pounded on it. The door opened and she was dragged through. She looked around, her eyes wide. She was in a very dimly lit little entrance hall. Narrow halls led off in three directions and a stairwell led both up and down.

The officer said something to the men there and then led her across the hall and down the concrete stairs. They emerged in an even more dimly lit hallway. It was all concrete and lit only by a few naked bulbs hanging here and there along it's length.

There were steel doors placed against the sides of the corridor and they stopped in front of one of them. The man opened it and pushed Mandy through. Then the door slammed shut behind her. She was in a very small concrete cell of some sort. There were no furnishings. No cot or anything.

The cell was lit by one small lightbulb up high. The walls were covered with scratch marks and stains. The floor was filthy and covered with old straw, stained with ugly looking, foul smelling things. Bugs moved all around on the walls and in the straw.

She stood in a corner, not wanting to touch anything. She didn't know what she was going to do if she had to stay here for any length of time. The idea of sleeping here was horrifying. She just couldn't bring herself to lie down on the horrible looking floor, despite her exhaustion.

Hour after hour, she stood there in the corner. Her legs were becoming stiff and weak. Finally there was a clanking sound and the door opened. A harsh voice called out and she moved to the door, then shuffled out. There was another officer of some sort. He grabbed her arm roughly and led her back down the corridor and into another room, this one bigger.

There was a bored looking man standing in the room. His eyes widened with interest when he saw Mandy. The two men spoke to one another and then the man moved to Mandy and began pulling off her clothes. She sighed and did nothing to stop or hinder him. In seconds she was nude.

The man pulled her over into a corner where there was a shower. He turned the water on, cold of course and tossed her a bar of soap. She just looked at it for a second and then back at him. He gestured impatiently. She started to scrub herself, glad to clean off some of the filth she'd accumulated.

She felt itchy all over just from being near all those bugs in that filthy cell and scrubbed her feet repeatedly. She also scrubbed between her legs and over her tits. She only wished they had a douche and mouthwash so she could get rid of all trace of the stinking sperm that had entered her body.

After she'd scrubbed herself, the water was turned off and the man pulled her away from the shower and over to a table. His hands slid over her body, lingering for a while on her breasts, which he squeezed repeatedly, like a small child, fascinated with a new toy. His hands slid between her legs and squeezed her pussy as well.

He looked at his watch and then sighed, apparently with regret. He fetched a towel and threw it to her and Mandy began to dry herself. After that, the man gave her a brush and led her to a little table that had a cracked and dirty mirror over it.

Well, it was the first one she'd seen in a week and she was grateful, until she saw herself. She winced at he horrible mass of tangled hair. It took fifteen minutes of relentless attack before the tangles were out and her hair fell more or less straight.

What she needed, she sighed, was a full perm, as well as a complete massage, oil down, and makeover. She could stand to have her nails done too. The man didn't seem likely to offer that however. He grunted impatiently, then pulled her away from the chair and out the door into the corridor.

There was another soldier waiting there. He exchanged his hand for the other's on Mandy's arm and then led her down the corridor to the stairs, then up them. They didn't stop at the first floor, but instead went up to the second. There, the hallway was much wider and looked much less threatening.

Mandy didn't care. She was just happy they weren't taking her back to the dungeon, or whatever it was they called the basement. They walked to a wooden door and stopped. Then the man knocked twice. After a moment, the door opened and the man saluted an older man.

The older man replied in kind, his eyes on Mandy, roving up and down her naked body. She'd been without clothes for so long now, that it was difficult to be embarrassed as his eyes bored into her. He motioned her inside and then closed the door.

She was in some kind of office. The man led her over to a chair sitting in front of a desk and then sat her down. He moved around behind the desk and looked across it at her, though he didn't sit down.

"Good afternoon." he said, his accent terrible.

"You speak english!" she cried.

"Yes. I speak english."

"Oh, thank God! Will you contact my parents and tell them where I am?"

"First you will answer my questions."

"Anything you want."

"Who do you work for?"

"Pardon?"

"Who do you work for?"

"I don't work for anybody." She said, confused.

"You work for the South Africans, don't you?"

"I told you, I don't work for anybody."

"What were you doing north of the river?"

"I was kidnapped!"

"You expect me to believe that?"

"But it's the truth. I was grabbed by some Bantu and taken to their village."

"The Bantu would not have taken you there, especially not with that strange hair of your's. They would have thought you were an evil spirit or witch."

"Well, they did."

"Did you have sexual relations with them?"

She blushed and nodded.

"With who?"

"I don't know, a lot of them."

"So you are an American prostitute."

"I am not!" she said, indignantly.

"You lie! I see it now. You were sent here to use your filthy body and influence our people into rebellion!"

"I was not!"

"That is just the kind of thing the filthy South Africans would do!" he snarled, stomping around the corner of the desk and staring down at her furiously.

"But I'm not a prostitute!" she protested. His hand swung down and slapped her face so hard she was flung out of her chair. She sat on the floor, holding her cheek and looking up at him in fear.

"Get up, you slut!"

"I'm not! I'm really not!"

She slowly got to her feet and the man shoved her back in the chair and grabbed her still damp hair. He pulled her head far back so her neck bent across the back of the chair. He laid his fist against her throat and looked nastily down at her.

"One blow and you would die, slut!"

"Please don't hurt me!" she gasped.

He pulled her hair forward again, then jerked her out of the chair and slammed her belly into the desk and shoved he down across it.

His knees forced her legs open and then she felt his hard male organ pressing against her cuntlips. She sighed in resignation, by now almost used to rape. His cock slid into her and he began to pump energetically. It was less than a minute before he came inside her and pulled out again.