The Head of State did not sleep in his bedroom, to be sure. His mind still dazed with weariness, he carefully chose some clean underwear from his drawer and clean fatigued from his closet and slowly dressed. One thing he might do, he thought to himself as he pulled on his socks, was ride around the estates again. It never hurt to keep constant check on how the gardens were being managed. What he usually did at such inspections was hop out of his jeep and help the men for a while so they-would know that he had time for them as well as for everything else. Still, the very thought of exerting himself, of even driving, was more than he could bear. Staring at the heavy boots he ought to put on next, he decided to carry them to his office. Should anyone ask, he would explain that he had calluses on his feet because he had marched twice as far as usual that day.
Yes, he agreed with himself, that is exactly what he would say if anyone dared ask! In fact, he would send someone for the boots because he didn't even want to carry them. He would look as though he had forgotten them because he was in such a hurry over something important and then send his secretary for them. In accordance with his plan, Captain Happy strode out of his bedroom in his stocking feet, down the plushly carpeted hallway to the stairs, and down then in a rush as though what was on his mind was too important to be diverted by either questions or shoes.
Opening the door of the office, he saw that the secretary was not there and then remembered that he had sent him as driver for the jeep that was to bring the hostages back. Well, he was glad he had decided to take an ambassador and his wife. He would need no shoes for them. They were not the brightest sort. Their titles and their lack of brains made them ideal prisoners for this sort of thing! So he fussed to himself as he repeated the movements he had made in the bedroom above, peering out the bay window, picking up a pair of binoculars and scanning the countryside with those. There was nothing. He reached under his shirt to scratch just in front of his arm. His body was damp with sweat. He should have taken another shower, he thought drowsily, but he went to the door, flicked the air conditioner to "on", and sat down at the desk with a map of the countryside, countryside that would someday be part of his "country" if all went as he planned. Suddenly he was asleep.
The clock at his elbow ticked on silently as time progressed through the afternoon toward five o'clock. The big man, collapsed over his desk, his head placed squarely on the marked area of the Whitelaw Estates, slept on. He never knew a thing all afternoon until Eflo was tugging at his sleeve.
"They're here, Happy!" she was whispering hoarsely. She had seen the cloud of dust roll up from the horizon. She had used the captain's binoculars to identify the jeep that was to bring the hostages in with the secretary at the wheel. Quickly she had run downstairs, suspecting that he might be asleep when she heard no orders barked out, no shouting or running or other turmoil.
"Wake up, Captain Happy," she cried, more careful to use his title as he came to.
Instantly he knew what the excitement was about, and he could tell from the unperturbed, if not elated, expression on her rested-looking face that so far, all had gone well. The hostages had been taken and were probably on their way in the front door. He snapped to attention, smoothed his shirt, and leaned over his map.
"Thank you, Eflo," he muttered and then took another look at her. She had grabbed a negligee to run down over the stairs. His eyes opened wide. Her dark skin glistened in voluptuous curves from head to toe under the frothy pink gown that hid absolutely nothing! "Are you crazy?" he hissed. "This is a revolution! This is the office of the Head of State for the country of Whitelaw! Get dressed!"
Eflo stifled the temptation to tell him that if she had gotten dressed before coming to him, he would have been asleep when they arrived. "Every Head of State has mistresses, Captain Happy. It is to be expected." Nevertheless, Eflo had no desire to be caught like this before the hostages or the men, either. She had simply meant to be quick about it, and now she turned on her heel and raced back out and up the stairs. Happy's eyes, obviously staring at the map under the knit bush of his heavy brows, followed her frothy figure as far as it could be seen. He groaned to feel the stirring between his legs and commanded himself to pay attention to the business at hand. Heads of state with mistresses, he muttered to himself, do not keep their countries very long!
He had no time to consider whether that was true or not, however. He had heard the jeep pull up, and then, in spite of his wish to appear busy and unconcerned, he bounced out of his seat for a brief glance out the window. The ambassador's wife was just being taken from the jeep by Bou, the driver, who was also Happy's personal secretary. It was obvious that Bou didn't know the difference between a captor and a captive, Happy thought to himself with a disgusted smile. The captain had no intention of mistreating these people unnecessarily, but Bou was behaving like a footman to the woman. He was reaching in, helping her down, making very sure she didn't… Then the big captain got a good look!
Captain Happy closed his eyes against the assault on his senses. Damn! He couldn't believe it! Where was the dowdy woman in the frumpy English clothes? This tiny little but oh-so-well-built blonde could not possibly be an ambassador's wife… or could she. It was well known that Ambassador Harper had just married. Happy had considered it a bit of luck that a new man was coming with a new wife. It was just the thing that would win people's sympathy to the pair and assure the success of Happy's demands, he had figured. But for some reason, he had assumed that it was a second or third marriage. Well, maybe it was… for the ambassador. The big man's brown eyes quickly appraised the generous tits, if they weren't padded, and the neat and shapely stockinged legs. She was a pert little dish, he admitted to himself with a second jolt in his hardening cock. Hopefully, the ambassador, who was on the other side of the jeep, in the custody of two of his more burly men, was old enough, Happy thought, that his little bride would be interested in something on the side!
Now he went back to his desk and sat down. When Bou came in, he found the captain so engrossed in his work that he didn't even know they were there.
"We got them, Captain," he announced with youthful fervor. Bou was only twenty-two and had a lot to learn.
The Head of State looked up quickly. "Oh? Good! Send in the bag," he ordered the boy, who studied him quizzically, afraid to make a mistake with orders he didn't understand but just as afraid to ask what those orders meant. Happy saw his confusion. It was exactly what he hoped to produce. "A bag is an old woman," he explained to Bou.
"Well, she isn't exactly… Yes, sir. You want the ambassador's wife, sir!"
Happy grinned at him in mock appreciation of his intelligence. He nodded. The boy disappeared.
When Bou returned with the girl, Happy ordered him out, not to return until he was called, and the Head of State turned his full attention to the prisoner, staring up and down and around at the tiny but abundant figure, appraising her deliberately while being amused to see her knees shake. He let his brown eyes rest on each of her salient points.
"I'm very sorry to frighten you. We don't really mean you any harm," he tried to explain, to calm her down. "Here, sit on the couch and I'll get you a drink," he offered.
"Where… where's Doug," she whispered hoarsely.
"Doug… Douglas Harper," Happy rattled on while he poured two scotches over two glasses of ice cubes that were always ready in his little cooler. "Douglas Harper… excuse me, Ambassador Harper is of no value to us unless he is alive and well, I assure you. If in the course of being here, you misplace him from time to time, don't worry. We'll take very good care of him." He handed her one of the glasses and noticed that her hand trembled uncontrollably as she took it. Yet she did take it. She probably didn't know just what she was doing at this point.
"I bet you will!" she rasped boldly.
Happy sat down beside her on the couch where he had placed her. He didn't want her to think they would care for him for nothing! "Cooperative hostages are always well cared for. It's those that don't do as they're asked who get into trouble."
"Who are you and what do you want?" she found the strength to ask.
Happy paid no attention to her question. She was quite a prize! She was tiny, in her early twenties, and her hair was the silkiest, softest looking blonde he had ever seen. She had large blue eyes, emphasized, he noticed with black pencil marks around the rims, but his attention returned to her hair. It fell below her shoulders and was just curly enough to defy matting. She certainly did not look like an ambassadors wife. Surely she was the kind who would prefer more excitement in her life than endless tea parties and reception lines and hypocritical smiles! He wanted to run his fingers through that hair, but it took him a moment to realize that since she was a prisoner, he had every right! And so he did, briefly. She pulled away.
He stared at her with his sternest look. "What is your first name?" he demanded.
At first she didn't look as though she was going to answer, but she swallowed hard and said finally, "Prudence."
"Prudence Harper, you are a prisoner of war! Cooperative prisoners live… and," he added as an afterthought, "so do their husbands!"
The young girl blanched even whiter than she was. Her skin was like alabaster. Happy could not resist reaching out for her hand to place it in his big black one. The difference in size, the contrast in color, seemed to fascinate her as well as him.
"Do you understand me?" he asked.
Prudence said nothing, but tears skirted the rims of her blue eyes and reddened them. Without thinking of what she was doing, she dipped her head and then raised the glass of scotch, finishing it nervously.
"Weeeellll," the big man stared and then got up, taking her emptied glass. "I'm glad you like my scotch, anyway," he said while pouring her another, a double shot this time. As he handed it to her, he again eyed her voluptuously full tits that pushed out of her suit that was in disarray. "You do like it, don't you?" he asked, his eyebrow raised almost menacingly.
She took the glass that he had filled while talking to her and tentatively sipped again as though she had not previously tasted it. She couldn't remember what it had tasted like. She couldn't even concentrate on it now. It was like liquid sawdust that burned a path down her gullet. The only thing on her mind was Doug and their predicament and trying to figure out how she should act and what she should say to help herself and her husband out of this!
"Oh, yes," she said automatically. "It's just fine, thank you!"
Happy almost burst out laughing. "It's just fine, thank you," he mimicked. "It's just fine, thank you, Mr. President. It's just fine, thank you, Your Highness. It's just fine, thank you… fine, thank you… fine, thank you…" he went on, bobbing his head to the rhythm of the words. With a big grin that showed all his pearly white teeth he looked up at her. "Before you married your ambassador, Prudence, did you stop to think that you're going to get mighty tired of saying that?" He kept chuckling and shaking his head. "How old are you?"
Prudence could not decide whether she was afraid of this big black man or not. He was much more human than she had expected. She thought kidnappers were rough and cruel and evil-looking.
"Twenty-three," she told him, sipping on the drink now. It was relaxing her beautifully, she had to admit. She didn't know much about drinking. She had not been allowed to drink until she was twenty-one, and coming from a strict family, she had never done much of it even then. Douglas, the son of an ambassador and now an ambassador himself, knew much more about it. His father had started him as a child.
"Twenty-three!" he marveled in a loud voice, "and dedicated already to a life of 'fine, thank yous'. Tch, tch," he said, shaking his head mournfully. "Well, at twenty-three, how much do you know about kidnappers?" he asked with a serious expression. He wanted to throw a charge of fear into her, just a little tremor, enough to make her more cooperative. He had taken her hand successfully once. He took it again. An electric spark pulsed from her hand right down to the pit of his stomach. She was loosening up, too, he sensed. Now she had the presence of mind to be confused by his touch. He saw the confusion and as she started to withdraw her little white hand, he took it more firmly and held her fast by it.
"Prudence, I enjoy having you touch me," he told her, pulling her close until their knees were touching and all the while staring at her with no smile, only the vague hint of a threat. He saw her toss her hair and take another healthy swallow of scotch. Her big blue eyes stared, frightened, back at him.
Happy let his drink spill on his carpet as he reached for her fragile-looking shoulders, drawing her full, delicately pink lips up to his own. Crushing his mouth down on the soft resilient flesh, he savored her taste, adulterated as it was by his scotch. He must get her to the point before she left where he could have her without the scotch. He had never kissed a white woman, one worth tasting, anyway. He thrust his tongue up to her frozen teeth.
"Kiss me, Prudence. Kiss me hard!" he ordered sternly.
Surprisingly, the young wife did kiss him hard, opening her little mouth to receive his demanding wet tongue, giving herself up to his lips crushing warm and hard over hers in a mind-swirling embrace. It had to have been the effect of the scotch. And yet this treatment was so different from what she had expected that there might have been some mindless gratitude mixed in. Was this possibly the way to save herself and her husband? she wondered. And was there anything to be saved from? This big black man was so… so nice! Maybe it was all some kind of dream she would wake up from soon.
"What a dream you are… a wonderful dream," he whispered, nuzzling her neck and her cheeks, tasting a faint hint of the perfume that she had applied behind her ears, perhaps just before they had been taken from the train. He blew gently into her little china ears until the goosebumps prickled over her arms, visible near her wrists. Slowly, gently, he undid the buttons of her suit and her blouse and insinuated his wandering black fingers into the soft folds of material.
"Aaaarrrggghhh," she groaned as his hands found the already desire-stiffened nipples of her lush young tits. The fullness of her curvaceous little body surprised him, and he was excited beyond his previous expectations as he rapidly explored her soft pliant tits with their white creamy mounds and rosy tips and then moved his big exploring hand down over her small waist and full-blown hips.
"Aaaaahhhh," she whispered mindlessly and repeatedly into his moistly suctioning mouth which clung to hers as if to keep her prisoner as he awakened in her young body the desire to remain his prisoner, but she would not give in. She kept telling herself that she would not give in… not really. The sighs and moans she couldn't seem to help. The alcohol had fogged her brain somewhat, but not so much that she had to lose control of her desires.
But the experienced captain, feeling her desire growing, pushed her back supine on the fancy silk couch cushions, raising above her as he unbuckled his belt. With a swift, practiced movement, he pushed his neatly pressed fatigues and undershorts to below his knees. As he did, his lust-heated black cock sprang up like a demon out of the earth or a serpent out of the river, hard and full, and frightening to the poor astounded ambassador's new wife!
"Oh, no," she gasped, aghast at the massive black nakedness of her captor's huge cock. Suddenly, through the haze of alcohol, she realized that this whole experience was for real, that it was actually happening, that she had been kidnapped and was now being raped. She put her hands up in self-protection, and he could see that she was just getting ready to scream her head off.
"Your husband would be very angry if you endangered his life for a little modesty," the big man smiled as kindly as he could white still getting his point across. "If you want to push me into being cruel, you can do that!"
"Oh, no!" the girl answered to that, too. God, it was terrifying to be alone in a room with a man who had taken her prisoner and was now hovering half-nakedly exposed over her on a couch, his big black cock hanging out and threatening her like a billy-club. Yet, it could be much more terrifying than this, she knew. She wasn't quite ready for such treatment, but how does one get ready to be kidnapped? But she wasn't ready for a big thick cock like this, either… a huge, blood-stiffened cock that she was sure he wanted to stuff in between her trembling, slightly tingling thighs, even though… even though… she felt a trace of hunger! How unbelievable! She was just married to Douglas! How could she possibly feel any hunger for another man, never mind a kidnapper! It had to be the effect of the scotch! Oh, how she wished she had not drunk it! Yet, what else could she have done? Surely her behavior was entirely understandable! And this man fascinated her. It would be very wise of her, very valuable to her country, to get to know him…
Yet it was all happening too fast for her no matter what she thought. She tried to get up, but Captain Happy anticipated her and lunged down on top of her, kissing her passionately on her tender, open mouth. And then, rationalizing incoherently to herself, Prudence collapsed under his sensuously arousing kisses and gave in completely as he crooned into her golden fleecy hair: "Oh, Prudence, baby, you're so gooooodddd!"
She could feel his lust-swollen cock stirring impatiently against her still covered belly, and his big insistent fingers were rapidly undressing her. Of what was she prisoner, she wondered groggily, still looking for excuses for her growing desires. She could not believe she wanted this man in any way! It was the strangest phenomenon! She had felt stirrings for men before she was married, and she always wanted Doug when he wanted her, but what excuse was there to want this big black kidnapper to touch her? Especially in those places! Was she a prisoner of alcohol? Of a wanton personality? Or was her body simply a prisoner of her own unconscious wisdom? This man had the power to hurt her, to hurt Doug, to kill… kill both of them!
While the Head of State kissed her deeply and urgently, his hands tugged expertly at her blouse and with it off at last, opened the snaps of her dainty little brassiere. Then moving around again to her front, he sank his fingers into the warm swelling white mounds of her tender tits, kneading the rosy tips between his fingers and sensing maddening strikes of electricity surging from her naked tits down to her aching loins. On Mt. Kilimanjaro was snow no whiter than these!
The shocked young prisoner, so sadly deficient in her knowledge of the flesh, wanted to scream with a rapture of which she was deeply ashamed! Her hotly seeping cunt was pulsing with desire and she lifted up her ass in an unconscious invitation for him to slip off her pantyhose and the little lace panties that Douglas had given her as his first gift as her husband. She had accepted the panties so modestly and blushingly from her husband and was accepting the advances of this stranger without fighting him off! But she couldn't fight him, she rationalized. He would surely harm Doug!
As he removed the last vestiges of her clothing, she thought of the door and the possibility that someone might bring Douglas in. God, it would kill him, she thought, thinking how she would feel if she was marched in while some woman was taking advantage of him!
"The… the door!" she managed to blurt out between the big man's urgent kisses.
"Don't worry," he assured her. "No one walks in on the Head of State!" And his hands encompassed the firm white mounds of her snowy tits, taunting the rosy tips with his thumb and forefinger, taking the softly throbbing nipples and rolling them with slow deliberation.
"Ooooohhhhhh," the young blond moaned, feeling herself melting under the good-looking captor's intimate manipulations. She saw how pale she was in his black hands and a strange thrill spun like a run-away top inexplicably up her spine. How naughty she felt and shivered! The triangle of gold, fleecy, curling pubic hair between her open legs was moist already and longing for the massive black cock which dug throbbingly into the soft white flesh of her young stomach. There was a growing fire in her loins which needed to be assuaged, and she reached for the man's blood-swollen prick in order to guide it to her hungering cuntal hole just as she would instinctively guide her swollen nipple into the mouth of a crying, hungry babe!
As her long white fingers circled the massive rod of hardened flesh, the Head of State pressed hard into her heaving tits with his large, full lips. "Oooohhh, Prudence," he cried. He pulled the distended pink nipples in between his sharply nibbling teeth and with his wet tongue lathered her pliant flesh until she groaned into his kinky black hair that had just begun to silver over the ears.
"Oh, yeeeeesssssssssss," she whimpered uncontrollably now.
Prudence Harper worked the heavy black lust-swollen prick of her kidnapper ever closer to her waiting cunt, savoring the hardness of his entire muscular body as it tensed above her and feeling her own desire growing by leaps and bounds. Her sandy-haired husband had faded out of her consciousness completely by now. There was only this big black lover and the fast rising heat of her fragile white body. She wanted to be touched lower now, wanted the hard, veined lust of his cock fucking deep in her cunt! Oh, God, how she wanted it! Never had she wanted any other man's so urgently!
As if he could read her frenzied mind, Captain Happy responded by lowering his hand to her hotly quivering pussy between her nakedly twitching thighs. It was like an earthen oven, hot as the fire pit over which they turned the boars. It was alive and sucking and ready to devour him, as small as she was! He wormed his outstretched middle finger forward and up to meet her hotly writhing pussy as she pressed the big dark bulbous head of his surging, lust-bloated cock to greater erection in her fingers. He fucked in expertly at her tightly clenched cuntal hole, his lips murmuring wetly against her unbelievably gorgeous tits: "Ohhhh, Prudence, keep it up! Keep gooooooiiinnnggggg, babe!"
The wickedly exciting sensations strengthened in the young wife's hair-fringed aunt, a seeping hotness spreading anew from her womb down between her automatically opening thighs. She cried out with lewd delight as his advancing middle finger reached all the way up into the cushiony warmth of her wanting cunt, spreading the moist, defenselessly weakening sheath wide. With a rhythm designed to drive her crazy, he fucked his finger deep up into her, fucking, tickling, increasing the pressure until he felt the nectarine droplets of her arousal spill out over his lewdly exploring, strong black fingers. He had to taste it, this white woman's juice!
Raising himself from her stomach but still manipulating her hotly steaming young pussy-flesh, he pulled back until the beautiful young prisoner was forced to release her hold on his turgidly engorged cock.
"In just a minute," he whispered thickly, kneeling between her widely splayed legs, "I want to eat you a little first!"
But his choice of words, his obvious intentions, were like cold water on the fire! As he lowered his swollen lips to the damp mass of blond pubic curls, holding her gleaming white thighs apart with his black fingers so that the entire expanse of her gaping young pussy flesh gleamed up at him, she jerked herself up and tried to push his big head away. She forgot all about who he was and where she was.
"No! No, not that! You can't do that!" she cried vehemently in horror.
The big man was caught off guard and reeled back off balance, almost falling. He was so caught so unexpectedly, that he forgot to threaten her into silence and obedience.
"I just want to taste…" he started…
"No!" the girl screamed hysterically. "No one does that disgusting thing to me, not even Doug!"
She grabbed her brassiere from the floor and fastened it deftly in front under her beautiful white tits then flipped it around, filling the cups and stretching the straps over her shapely white shoulders. Captain Happy was so mesmerized by the whiteness of her skin that his reactions were slow.
"Where do you think you're going?" he asked, standing up and towering over her, his massive black cock still fully extended, lowering out from under his thick kinky black pubic hair like a spear.
"I… I don't know!" she screamed at him, hiding her own confusion and the fear that was beginning to return. Oh, God, what had she done? Yet there was something about the man that made him… well, not that fearsome, it seemed to her now.
Happy stared at her in amazement. Why didn't he rape her on the spot? Who the hell was she to tell him where to get off? Yet, although his blood was boiling, it was not in anger and not wholly in lust, either. He didn't want this woman this way. He may not have tasted that seething cunt of hers but he had tasted an aggressiveness that had been completely unexpected. It was his guess that this little white woman had a great deal more to offer than he could get by force. No, she had to be wooed. It was a challenge to him that he could not resist! Unfortunately, that approach took time that they probably didn't have. He stood apart, contemplating the problem while she finished dressing. Perhaps there was some way to hasten the courtship. For one thing, no one yet knew who had the ambassador and his wife. No message had been sent, no demands made. That could be held up a little while. In fact, he knew a way that it might be held up for a longer while!