

White slave Boy: by (c) Hamilton Joyce.

Cecil stetched his legs out, enjoying the feel of the leather against his naked thighs.

Mr Chartier always liked him to wear shorts when he visited the old man's flat, and could be relied on to feel up the boy's naked thigh under the leg of his shorts, finally grasping the boy's by-now hard little cock while stealing his first kiss of the afternoon.

But not his last! He was a randy old buzzard, Mr Chartier, and presumably with the help of viagra could also be relied on to shag the boy's cute little bottom at least twice each visit.

Cecil reached under himself, fingering his anus a moment to make sure he was not still dribbling the guy's cum. OK! Reasonably dry.

Unusually, Mr Chartier had suggested to the boy, once he had drained his balls into that willing rectum,  that Cecil might like to meet one of Mr Chartier's friends, one who also loved young boys. His friend was, it seemed, a big-built black man, muscular and with cock and balls to match his massive frame. And very rich!

Cecil was a bit afraid.....perhaps it was true what they said about black guys, perhaps he would be really massive and stretch the boy's male pussy as none of his several lovers had yet managed. Other boys had stories about torn arseholes caused by man-monsters, though Cecil had yet to come across a cock his anus coukd not accommodate. He decided to give it a try.... so here he was in the hired car Mr Chartier's friend had sent to collect him, and looking forward to even more sex than usual on a Saturday afternoon. He had never had a black guy before but had often fantasised. And if the guy really was fit, muscular, that would be a real treat.

The driver was a big guy too. Black, like the man he was to meet, and he kept looking in the mirror at the boy. Cecil knew that look in an adult male: the guy fancied him, would love to slip his cock between his little-boy buns. There was that look in his eyes. All he had to do was pull into a lay-bye, kill the engine and ask: Cecil really fancied him and would have enjoyed a quickie. But the guy just drove on, often glancing in his mirror and meeting Cecil's eyes there.

Cecil stretched his legs out again and rubbed his crotch a moment, where his cock was already making a little tent.

This was better than the usual taxi! In fact it was magnificent, a huge black Mercedes, air-conditioned, tinted windows, leather.... the works. And in the arm-rest a little bowl with triangular sweeties in it. Cecil recognised the gold foil of his favourite chocolate and thought, "Why Not". He unwrapped one and popped it in his mouth, enjoying the familiar chocolate and orange flavour as he wolfed it down.

The driver caught his eye in the mirror and was smiling, so that was all right. Cecil unwrapped another one, and took his time sucking it slowly and luxuriously.

It was getting hot in the car. Too hot! Cecil looked for a window catch, but they must have been electric, and in any case he was feeling a bit sleepy. That would be the result of nearly an hour's pleasure with Mr Chartier, being fucked kneeling and then for a long age on his back with his legs round the old guy. He liked Mr Chartier and the guy was never in a hurry. The driver would wake him when they got there! He nodded off.....

                                                                   ...........................................

Cecil woke up feeling quite refreshed, stetched his long legs and rubbed his eyes.

He was not in that black limousine.

Where was he? He sat up. The bed was large and low, and covered with a pimk satin sheet. He could smell talcum powder. It was on his own skin! And where did these panties come from. He felt them with both hands, and looked down. They were see-though black nylon and more like the bottom part of a shortie-nightdress than girlie panties. Sure enough, the top part, the see-through nightie bit, was laying on the floor by the bed.

It was chilly in the room, and Cecil reached for the frothy nylon and put it on.

To be honest, girlie panties and stuff did not do much for Cecil, who rather preferred his sex naked. But several of his man-friends liked their little boys to cross-dress a bit, and Cecil of course went along with that: it was always exciting to see the effect he had especially on married men, the bisexual ones, when in sexy lingerie. And it must be said his own brand of good looks probably was even sexier in see-through nylon... so feminine.

Where was he? Presumably in Mr Chartier's friend's place. Perhaps he had passed out after the pummelling his prostate had taken from Mr Chartier cock and the four times he had cum while being shagged, twice with a stream of boy-juice over his tanned chest, and then twice even more intensely but nearly dry. It had been a long and good session. Yes! That must be it. He had fainted, been delivered unconscious to the black millionaire's place, washed, powdered and prepared for sex, but left to recover a bit from the rigours of the afternoon earlier.He got up from the bed and looked out of the only window; the garden was lush and green, and the plants were a bit unfamiliar, but he supposed a millionaire might well have exotic plants in his garden. He shivered and realised why he was a bit cold: the place was air-conditioned. There was no-one in sight in the garden and the house was very quiet: he decided to try looking out the door, which was ajar. He was nearly at the door when it opened, and yet another huge black guy came in. Perhaps this was Mr Chartier's friend? 

'Follow me. The General is waiting for you.'

Cecil followed him, wondering why the guy was clad only in a white loin-cloth tied around his waist and if anything accentuating the bulge of his cock and balls. As he followed the man, Cecil could not take his eyes of those massive thighs like tree-trunks, and the muscles of his arse as he walked. He looked as if he would be a vigorous fucker! The rich friend must be The General, and with luck he would be built like his driver and servant. 

Cecil would have liked to question this man, certainly a servant, but had to hurry to keep up with him, as he padded naked feet over polished wood flooring with the occasional furry animal skin as a mat here and there. The walls too were wood-panelled, but with a few paintings and occasionally a white marble statue on a plinth: always naked boys, statues and paintings! Every room was empty but luxuriously furnished till they came to a large hall in which there were some people. About a dozen young boys, all about his own age he guessed, but all black or brown, were lolling about on cushions and low beds like the one on  which he had woken up. several of them were playing computer games or watching television. Two were laying on a bed and kissing, fingers groping each other's little hard cocks. A few of the boys were wearing satin panties or thongs and one tall arab boy was in a long satin negligee and was looking at himself in a mirror, but most were naked. Except for the two on the bed they looked up as Cecil and his escort moved swiftly through the room.

Cecil did not mind them looking: he might as well be naked himself in this flimsy nightie and panties, and he knew he looked good. So did those boys. Cecil mostly had sex with grown men, but of course he enjoyed it too with those of his school-mates who were into little-boy sex, and he could have fancied any one of these. His cock, half-hard before at the prospect of a muscular black-man now went full-erect with the thought of being spit-roast by a couple of those boys, with their shiny black skin. 

Cecil knew what a harem was, and clearly this millionaire, this "General" had his own harem of little boys. Cecil smiled to himself: who could blame the guy? Cecil thought that he himself was rich he would have a harem of his own.... all big strong guys with hard, springy cocks! He wondered where the guy's mansion was....Must be in the country to be as big as it semed. probably one of thos huge mansions in Surrey or somewhere....

And finally they were there. 

His escort ushered the boy in first, saluting a man who was sitting at a huge mahogany desk. 'The boy awoke five minutes ago. I brought him immediately  as ordered.'

'That is all, Mustapha.'

Another salute, and the boy was left with "Mr Chartier's friend".

A moment silence while the guy, not moving from the huge mahogany chair with a high-domed back, inspected him. Cecil looked at him. He was wearing military uniform of the camouflage type, and it looked like thin cotton. You could see he was immense, barrel chested with bulging biceps (the jacket was short-sleeved), and very, very black. He did not smile, not at all.

'Ah! So you are the English whore.....'

Cecil was not so pleased at that. All right, Mr Chartier always gave him a £5 note as did some other guys. Some of them gave him panties and stockings, high heeled shoes even, but that was really more for their own pleasure than as a reward he supposed. And one had even given him a pair of ear-rings,,,,real diamonds. but these were presents not payment. No, not nice to be called a whore!

'They told me you were pretty. And you are. Turn round and show me your arse!'

That was better, the guy thought he was pretty!

'Take them off.... those silken things.'

'Good! The guy liked his boys naked. better than those who wanted him in stockings and things.....'

'Now bend and spread your buttocks, boy. Ah yes! you will find out soon what I do with boy-bottoms.'

Cecil had often met this sort of role-playing stuff, and while it was a bit boring it made some guys really horny, which was good. Some wanted to be uncles with nephews, teachers with schoolboys, fathers and sons.... the scenarios were endless, but always ended with the same two acts!

'Turn round and face me. Ah, yes. They told me you would be worth it. I paid five thousand for a white English girlie-boy and here he is. I am going to shag you, boy, and in fucking you I'll be fucking the whole bloody British Empire and their bloody Commonwealth. Churchill, Thatcher, The Queen, and bloody politicians who call me a slaver and try to get me in front of their bloody International Court.'

'Five thousand what, Cecil wondered. Not pounds, obviously. And this guy was really over the top in his role-play.....nasty chip on his shoulder. Still if it turned him on to humiliate a representative of England, so be it. as long as he fucked well! And if he considered me a whore then probably he would pay me!

'Come here, boy.'

He was unzipping his uniform trousers, and you could see he had no underpants on as he levered out his cock. It was huge, and Cecil shuddered. It must be ten inches long and so broad at the knob.... God! could he take one as big as that? 

'Suck it, English whore!'

Cecil was intimidated a bit, partly by the size of that monstrous cock, but mostly because the man had a surly and angry tone all the time, as if he really meant to humiliate the boy. But cecil reasoned to himself that this guy liked to role play, and if it was a bit realistic well he was not the first guy the boy had serviced who enjoyed these little mind-games. They were not real, only games after all. and that cock was magnificent, so tall and straight with huge veins standing out on it and a great, flaring purple head. Cecil was glad the guy had no foreskin as that would be an extra problem given the size of The General's weapon.

cecil pulled the light cotton trousers down a bit so he could get at the balls: as he expected these were huge too, loose in their black sack, and the hair was crispy and tightly curled. He had never had a black guy before and was fascinated by this so-different pubic hair. He licked at the sack and nibbled it.

'I said suck, whore. Suck means suck!'

The knob was almost too big for Cecil's mouth: he was only twelve, though actually he would be thirteen next week. He had a sudden fear. Suppose at thirteen he was too old for the nice men who allowed him to suck their cocks, who gladly accepted his boy-juice into their eager mouths, and above all massaged his prostate with ther adult cocks. He managed to get the knob past his lips, and found the shaft, not as wide, did not stretch his mouth as much. He could suck, and it was really very nice. The guy was so macho and masculine: he might pretend to be a tyrant but Cecil unerstood men who liked to play dom-sub games with a willing girlie-boy. The shaft was moving nicely in and out his mouth now, though he could only take about half of it. The knob hit the top of his throat with  each thrust, but he had long ago learned to repress the gagging reflex.

Those balls were interesting! Cecil cupped them in his little hand, white against black, and felt their weight. Very sexy! He pulled at the skin pinched between thumb and forefinger, and suddenly his mouth was filled with hot, creamy cum. The guy pulled his cock out and a second spurt hit the boy full in the face, splatting in a line of thick, white man-juice from his chin, across one eye, and over his forehead. Roughly The General grabbed the boy's head and forced it over his cock-head agin so the next spurt again filled his mouth, and the next. The guy's legs had tensed and lifted off the floor while he came, but now the cock was motionless, still oozing gently  and twitching from time to time, the tension left those tree-trunk thighs, and his boots were back on the floor.

The boy was surprised how quickly he had cum: he must have been desperate for it.

Thanks for good head? Hardly!

'Bloody English whore. Like all the whores you make me cum so I don't have your arse. You think because I cum I'll spare your tender bum? Well I'll show you what I do with whores' arseholes. I'll show you, English.'

Cecil suddenly thought, "What if the guy really means it. What if it isn't role-play?" He was frightened, but his cock still stood five-inches proud, and the sight of those balls and the half-hard cock, hanging now like a thick, rubber air-hose, was still working its magic on the boy. He wanted the guy at least to try and get it up and into his tight little bum-hole.

The guy kicked at him as he knelt before the throne (for that is what it seemed), and the boy went flying backward. The boot had caught him in the chest, and it hurt.

This was no joke. However rich Mr Chartier's friend was he should not have done that. The little boy cock shrank back to winkle size!

But that was not all. The General grapped the lad by one arm, grip hurting him, and pushed him over a low bench covered with red leather. Bent double, cecil felt his wrists and ankles bound by cold stainless steel, He heard four clicks as some sort of locking kept him bent double, head able to see little except the polished floor, and his legs spread wide open. He expected to be fucked imminently and was at least half looking forward to it. The man might be a nasty sort of bully, but he had a wonderful cock, the sort of cock you might go five years as a girlie-boy and never enjoy. Again, Cecil was aware he had spent three of his girlie-boy years already, and only really had two more before he was a full adolescent and no longer attractive to the boy-lovers he himself loved so much. He would make the most of this shag!

But he was wrong!

There was a whistling through the air and a terrible sharp pain across his buttocks. He was being whipped!

'One for the British empire, English boy-whore!'

'Please no. That's not right! Nooooo!'

again that sinister whooshing.

'Two for Waterloo!'

'Three for Trafalgar!'

'Four for Churchill!'

'Five for the Queen.'

'And six for the bloody International Court of Justice'.

There was a pause, and Cecil felt fingers in his arse-crease. Oily fingers. Penetrating, finger-fucking hard. That was nice! His cock stiffened despite all. The fingers pulled out, and then a sudden searing pain as that great, flaring knob was forced into his bottom. Even the first time with Daddy had not been as painful as this. It was terrible, and his squeaky scream rang out though the corridors of the palace (for palace is what it was).

Cecil forced his anal sphincter to relax, as he had learned long ago, and gradually the pain reduced until of course it was replaced by the pleasure of the pummelled prostate. Not so pleasant was the slap on his already martyrised bottom as The General walloped him with an open hand to accompany each deep and powerful thrust. But as his anus learned to accommodate the unusual girth and length the pleasure increased and Cecil might even have cum if his violator had not cum first, muttering invective about England and Britain as he pumped his load into the boy.

No sooner done than cock was withdrawn and he retreated behind his desk again, wiping his weapon on a towel doubtless kept handy for cleaning up cum. He pushed a button and almost instantly the doors opened to admit the servant again.

'Clear away that rubbish and the English whore. I'm done with him for today.'

The servant saluted, incongruous to see a military salute from a man dressed only in a white loin-cloth! He swept up the crumpled nylon nightie and panties, slipped the metal catches, and picked Cecil up as easily as he had lifted the lingerie.

Outside the room, still hoding the boy cradled in his arms, he whispered in his ear. 'I'm Mustapha. I'll take you to my room and we'll clean you up, and put some soothing oil on your sore bottom-cheeks'.

Cecil allowed himself to be carried, and it was good to feel this man caring for him.

'You smell nice, Mustapha.'

'After I shower I use a light lemon-oil. That will be good for your sore bottom, too. You'll see.'

Cecil nestled his head into that strong shoulder.

As tenderly as any father Mustapha carried the boy through long corridors, all empty of people, pushed a door open with a bare foot, and laid the boy on a bed. The room was nice.....its window looked out onto the same garden Cecil had first seen when he had awoken and the sunlight streamed in. There was a fridge, a television, an armchair, and a table with two chairs. Through a half-open door the boy could see what looked like a shower room. The bed was big, and the sheet covering it was crisp and clean.

'What's your name?'

'I'm Cecil.' 

'Let me clean you up a bit.'

Cum had dried on the boy's cheek and forehead and in little crusts across his smooth chest. Mustapha went to the shower room and emerged with a damp cloth which he used to wipe all traces of that first orgasm.  

Mustapha felt a tenderness towards this young boy, so innocent and hardly understanding how desperate his situation was. These boys were all so pretty and so willing to please: he loved them all, and sometinmes thought he and his fellow guards were substitute fathers, mothers too perhaps, for these lost boys. Though many fathers would baulk at the physical expression of that love that all the guards gave the boys. and how the little beauties loved that! How they loved these big cocks stretching their tight bottoms and filling their mouths, sucking their little-boy cocklets and swallowing the thin cum. The boys thought of their muscled guards as servants, companions, sex-partners, but guards they were nonetheless. He gently kissed the boy on his forehead. This was the first white boy The General had procured (heaven only knows where he got some of his harem), and with his blonde good looks and his clear, golden skin, the boy was going to be kept busy by a succession of male admirers. The boy smiled, timidly at him, and he kissed him on that snub-nose.

'Turn over on your belly, Cecil. Ah! Not too bad and I've seen worse. Those weals will soon go down and he has not broken the skin. That would be a shame with such a pretty bottom.'

Cecil relaxed completely as strong hands massaged his bottom cheeks, waist, back and thighs, the clean scent of lemons filling the room. The stinging sensation went away.

'Did he hurt you here. I heard you scream?'

An oily finger penetrated the boy's bottom.

'At first. He's the biggest I ever had, and it hurt at first. Later it was nice, but not the slapping. He slapped me too hard, and it isn't fun any more if it really stings...'

'Then it was not the first time a man has had your bottom?'

'Jeez no. Lots of guys do me, and I really like it.'

'That's good. It's terrible for the boys who have never been fucked, to have The General as their first....'

'He's a bully. And the dom thing is not just a game with him; he really means it.'

'Poor Cecil! The General is a brute.... but he's a good general all the same. His army are glad they have him!'

A finger still in the boy's bottom, he felt underneath and found Cecil's cock hard now. 

'Did he let you cum?'

'I nearly did, but he was too quick.'

'He always is! That's his main problem.' Mustapha laughed. 'Turn over again, Cecil, and we'll put that right'.   

He stood looking down at the angelic blonde boy with that pretty little-boy cock. He undid his loin cloth and let it fall to the floor. Cecil looked up saw a fine half-hard black cock, long and slender with a pointy purple knob.... cut just as The General's had been, but nowhere near as thick. Just as long though. Their eyes met and they smiled, both complicit in the sex act that Cecil knew so well, that had been part of his daily routine since Daddy first showed him how to be fucked, so gently and happily for both of them. Cecil had been so proud when his father first slid that mysterious adult cock into his arse-hole, tight of course in a boy just eleven years old. He had not protested, and had soon learned to look forward to the morning fuck in the back of the car half-way to school, and the goodnight fuck last thing.

Mustapha knelt by the bed, leaned over and closed his lips round the little pink knob. The boy sighed, and opened his legs as the mouth sank down swallowing the whole cock until nostril rested on his pubes. A hand under the boy to continue the anal masturbation, the other hand cradling, stroking, tickling a tight little ball sack, and the familiar slurping-sound of a boy's cock slipping in and out of a man's mouth. Mustapha felt and saw the boys legs stretch and flex and knew he was about to be rewarded, and sure enough a silky stream of cum filled his mouth. It tasted like black boy's cum, Mustapha thought: interesting there was no difference there.

Cecil kept his hands on Mustapha's shaven head, holding it in place over his cock until the last twitches and little spasms of his orgasm were over and then released it.

Back on the bed he cuddled the boy, who enjoyed the muscular arms around him, the feel of that barrel chest, and above all the sensation of a now rock-solid cock pressing against him. It was always good to be cuddled by a handsome man, and the more so when it was the prelude to inevitable fucking. His Daddy would cuddle him tonight and would reward the boy for being good all day by a nce cock in his mouth or bottom. Cecil loved a cuddle. As they kissed, Cecil reached down and grasped the rigid pole, feeling a suspicion of precum at its tip.

''Do you want to....?'

'I certainly do Cecil. Kneel for me on the bed.' 

The boy felt bristly chin betweeen his buttock cheeks, and then a pointed tongue licking around his anus. It penetrated and Cecil pushed backwards, giggling as he always did when rimmed.

'That's lovely, but I want you to fuck me, Mustapha. I really do. Please.'

'Ah! These so-willing boys, though it was not always that they were so keen the first day they arrived, and especially after meeting The General! When they had been traumatised by their first, really bad sex, then Mustapha and his fellow guards would cuddle and kiss them, whisper in their ears, but spare them any more stress from oral or anal sex. Always after a few days with the other boys in the play-room new arrivals were ready for it, even eager! 

Strong hands parted the boys rounded cheek's, still with something of the feminine at nearly thirteen, and lacking the masculine angularity that comes at fifteen or so. The boy's anus was relaxed and would still be oiled from the finger-fucking so Mustapha merely oiled his own cock, making sure the knob was especially shiny, and with a firm push forced it into the boy's anus.

Cecil was happy: this is how it should be: a huge, strong guy, but gentle and kind too, concerned that his girlie-boy lover should enjoy it as much as he did. Nice Mr Chartier was like that: not strong of course, but loving and considerate. The guy was fucking him well now, long slow strokes into him, and quickly out, for another slow, powerful thrust, and his knob-head was brushing against the boy's pleasure spot every time. Cecil found himself dreaming about his Papa again, thinking that daddy would fuck him just like this. He wondered if he were to take that see-through nightie home with him tonight, and showed it to Daddy, would he want to kiss him with more than the regulation peck on the cheek or forehead. The boy was getting quite excited now, and knew that he might come just from the steady prostate massage, without wanking himself at all.

'Can i turn over, please, Mustapha? This is lovely, but I want to be able to see you while you.... while you do me.' "Fuck" seemed to crude a word for this loving sex, with gentle hands caressing his buttocks, back, shoulders, neck, while that cock inexorably plumbed him. He felt Mustapha's tongue licking his back a moment.

Wordless, Mustapha managed to turn the boy without wholly removing his cock, and continued fucking, the boy's legs now tucked under his arms, gold and black together. As he knew he would be, Cecil saw his lover was smiling happily as he calmly thrust in and out. He reached up and managed to touch one of the black man's man-breasts, pecs developed and muscular.

His own cock was just demanding it: the prostate massage was even better in this position, and when Mustapha bent him nearly double, with his slender legs over those massive ebony shoulders, the pleasure was intense and continuous. He got a hand on each pec now, and felt the muscles beneath the now-sweating skin. Mustapha murmured something in his own language, and Cecil knew he was coming, pouring his man-seed deep into the boy just as he loved. The thought of those streamers of silky cum in his rectum so excited the boy that he was coming too, without having touched his cocklet. The stream of boy-juice splattered over his own face and in a streamer down his chest and belly: a second spurt covered his belly in white droplets, and then, as he held it for the first time, it oozed onto his fist.

Mustapha released the boy's legs and with his cock still inside him scooped some of the boy-juice onto his index finger and licked it off.

'Lovely! That was lovely, Cecil. you are a good boy, and very pretty. I think you will be happy here eventually.'

Cecil's anus expelled the cock just as he wondered what the man meant. He would be going home soon. Did Mustapha expect him to be coming back again? Well, he wasn't returning here. Whatever Mr Chartier said he was not having anything more to do with that General man, however friendly he was with Mr Chartier, however rich he was.

Mustapha smiled, and wiped the boy clean with the same damp flannel, before kissing him.

'Put these on again, and we'll go back to the playroom, where the other boys will want to get to know you.' Mustapha wound the white cloth around his cock and bum, and clipped it in place. There was a military uniform pressed smartly and hanging on the back of the shower dook but it seemed that Mustaoha usually just went around in his underwear. Strange! But sexy!

Cecil wished there was a mirror so he could see himself in that sexy nightie and panties, but the only one was head and shoulders, so he used that to straighten his hair before holding hands with Mustapha, and again threading through long, polished corridors.

                                                 ................................................................... 

At the door of what Cecil had already learned was called the "Playroom" he was left standing and looking at the boys, who had not noticed him yet. At last one of them, a lively-looking black boy dressed in girlie white nylon knickers and nothing else saw him and came scampering over.

'Hello! I'm Benjie.'

'I'm Cecil.....'

'Hey, you're English! I'm English too. Where are you from?'

Cecil was mystified again. why was the boy surprised he was English?.....He really was not likely to be anything else, surely? But he replied, "Windsor".

'Peckham me. I've been here about a month. I'm the newest of the boys before you came. The others speak a bit of English, but not much, so am I glad you're here. And you look veyr tasty in that nightie! Yummy, yummy.'

'Thanks, Benjie. and you look tasty too!'

'Those two guys sucking each other off over there are both arabs, one from Syria and the other from Israel. The two guys playing backgammon are from Nigeria and Ghana. And those three looking at the porn on the tv are all local boys. There's a couple of others too, but I guess theyve decided to go to bed together in private. Did The General hurt you much?'

'He's a pig. He called me an English Whore, he kicked me, tied me up and whipped me and then buggered me. I don't mind being had that way, in fact I usually like it. But I don't think he was doing it for pleasure, just trying to hurt me and make me ashamed. He's a pig, and I don't like him.'

'None of us do. But luckily there's a lot of boys here. As well as those in this part of the Palace, there's another lot somewhere else, according to the servants, so with about twenty boys we don't get to see him much. He whips boys because that's the only way he can get it up again after he's cum the first time. And he has to do it twice as he cums so quick the first time that he can't even get it in you before it spurts. That's why he's so nasty I think. But his army love him because he makes them rich and gives them girls and boys. Best is the srvants. there's probably probably about thirty of them and they are all built like the one you've seen, and they are all lovely in bed. When three or four come down to the playroom together there's real fun and games... The boys here all love sex.'

'They all look nice. But where do you think my clothes are? I should get dressed as the car will come for me soon I'm sure: I'm not supposed to be out too late. My Daddy will be waiting for me for my good-night kiss.'

'Car? I don't get it.....'

'I came in a limousine, but I expect it will be a taxi back....usually is.'

'Where do you think you are, Cecil?'

'I reckoned we must be in one of those big country houses in Surrey, or perhaps Berkshire.....'

'Oh dear. You'd better come with me a minute....'

He led our little boy to a tall door and opened it. Both stepped out into sunlight, but a terrible moist heat after the cool of the air conditioning. And there was a smell on the air, like mushrooms, or decaying vegetation. Benjie closed the door behind them. 'Where do you think you are now?'

'I've never seen anywhere like this. It almost looks like jungle, like on the television.'

'It is, Cecil. This is The Peoples Republic of Matalanga, or rather that bit of it that belongs to The General and his army.'

The jungle stretched like an ocean of green for miles.

'There's no road into this place.... The General's Palace.... The only way in and out is by helicopter so we're here until The General gets fed up with us.....probably when we're about fifteen they say.'

'Oh my God! I've been kidnapped....'

'We all have. On the other hand it's a cozy life, with games. There's a gym and swimming pool we can use three days a week.... the other days are for the other room and we don't ever meet them. There's computer games, surfing the net, television. and of course all the sex you could ever want. Beats Peckham, I think.

'I can see buses, there right at the horizon....'

There was a scar in the jungle, just within eye-sight, a red gash, with grey streaks. The boy could just make out yellow vehicles moving.

'That's the diamond mines: they aint buses: they're huge lorries about ten miles away. And behind that is the army camp. The mines are why The Ggeneral is so rich and can have so many boys,  and the army is to stop any of the other warlords around here taking it all from him'. 

'It's too hot out here.' The black see-thru nylon was sticking to his skin. they turned and went back into the cool of their gilded cage.


                                                                    ..................................................





