Fantasy Actress Roleplays

[Krishan202]

Part -- 7


The sweltering island looked more like an international airport than a private playground on the day of the wedding. Lear jets and helicopters taxied between the military buildings as an array of jewel encrusted dignitaries most fat with the trappings of power were each dutifully fawned over by Mobana's guards and his island madam.


"This way your highness, " the oriental Chui said as she bowed to the King of a close by third world state, "and welcome to President Mobana Island."


Then it was the turn of an African industrialist.


Then an interior minister and his weekend whore.


All of the worst that Africa had to offer were here today.


"Father?" Koko said watching from the cool of the general's office, " I think this is becoming an obsession with you. You have already broken the woman and proved your superiority. Why marry her?"


Koko had always enjoyed the admiring looks from her father's sycophants. But lately she'd noticed it was her enhanced Barbie doll captive who caught their eyes more. She rubbed her father's shoulders trying to get his attention.


"She's not that special after all...is she father?"



The general just grunted as he signed papers. Koko gave a huff and put her hands on her fabulous hips. Then she stamped her feet frustrated at his indifference to her wounded pride.


"Be rid of the bitch," she said exasperated." I think..."


The general's patience was as short as ever. He would have a man shot for questioning his orders. But his darling daughter was cut some slack.


"Silence!" He screamed rising from his seat, slapping her across the face.


"I think... I THINK! Since when do I ask you to think?"


Koko managed to remain standing taking the blow well. Her face was one not of anger but acceptance. She had spoken out of line but it needed to be said. She continued matching his angry stare, the gauntlet clearly thrown down. However her tone was more caring and concerned.


"I hear things father. The war, the rebels, I fear you are distracted to the point of recklessness."


Koko's spies in her father's inner circle, many officers she bedded for their loyalty, had told her tales. Tales of a man unable to conduct a meeting without the mention of his bitch, or an update from Chui about her training cutting into an important council of war. They also looked worried whenever she mentioned the rebel losses that her father publicly boasted about. Were there any rebel losses?


The general did not strike her again instead raised his hand slowly as if to calm a tensed animal.


"I have not forgotten my duties." He said, fixing her with the confident gaze of a ruler;" but this woman insulted me in front of my peers." He pointed to yet another despot walking from his jet. "They will know today my power and my mettle as a leader. That is all the bitch reporter is to me; another battle honour."


Koko nodded and apologised for lack of faith. As she left the building the mid morning heat of the equator hitting her body she was more convinced than ever that he was lying.



In her cell a brigade of women surrounded Kajal. She sat silently and without resistance as they tended to her make-up, hair and dress. What was the point anymore? She had heard that many people would be here today but reports of her premature demise getting to the world's press didn't seem to concern anyone. Madam Chui had explained, amused at seeing Kajal eyes light up in thought when she had been told about the audience


"You will find Miss Kajal that secrets can be kept from the world as long as only the right people know. No one tomorrow will ever mention what they have seen."


Kajal had realised with professional clarity she was right. They'd be rumours maybe even a story in the National enquirer along with all the Elvis sightings, "Missing TV babe becomes African slave queen." But that would be as far as it went. Now sat in her beautiful white wedding dress she looked forlorn at the cheerful women who jabbered and laughed as they painted her nails and brushed her stunning golden locks into an exquisite crown-topping bun.





The captive reporter knew that the blackmailing Mobana could get at her sister with astonishing ease and that was a comfort to her. Bizarre as that might sound it meant it soothed the shame of submission. She really did have no choice at all now not even death could give her sanctuary as Mobana's revenge on her sister would be swift and terrible. But so would her own... eventually. One-day years from now when so much had been done to her that few hardly remembered who she was and why she was here she'd already vowed to kill him; and her ex best friend, his daughter.


"Its time," Chui said as she entered the cell," stand!"


Madam admired the effort that had been put into her appearance. Kajal was looking breathtaking; with her hair up in the bun her long neck and slight frame seemed to hover in the long silk white gown. The gown was open at the front like an ice waterfall either side of her perfect globe tits, the pink nipples swollen as ever the melons heavy with the lactic potion injected into her for many weeks. The curve of her hips could be seen inside the gown down to her shaven bare slit. The gown framing her torso and then her long beautifully waxed legs the fabric pooling around her white high-heeled sandals.





Taking a harem slave as concubine was unheard of but after this African voodoo ceremony most people in this backward cult driven society would not question her elevation to the ruling tribe; even if only as the family's pet dog. Madam Chui nodded in begrudging admiration of her poise and demeanour even if the idea seemed ridiculous.


"Well a least you look like you are worthy of the honour."


As Kajal walked out in slow elegant strides the madam followed giving words of warning." Remember where you are and who you have become. Remember the dungeons and the excesses of the little Mobana. But above all remember your sister and what we can do to her." Kajal took a gulp and nodded in obedience. The general had warned her that if he were crossed she would have to watch the image of her sister's inevitable gang bang. She'd have to watch each night as she serviced her master until every scream and gasps was imprinted on her mind.


Chui signalled to her aides as Kajal's hands were tied behind her back in strong silk binds; more as decoration than serious restriction. "Prepare for your entrance."


In the great hall Mobana addressed his audience with a smug syrupy dialect of platitude and eager boasts. He explained the age-old belief of his culture that a great chief on taking the finest of his enemies women as his concubine would never be defeated in a mortal combat. Koko listened close by, bowed in reverence and growing understanding.


"So that was it," she realised, "did her father really believe the old religion or was it an act of desperation against a strengthening rebel foe?" Either way she knew his military commanders did and so did his loyal tribe, his toughest and most ferocious troops. Maybe his motives for this white bitch were sounder than she realised. Her old college friend would become his soldier's greatest battle standard protecting them with the arcane powers of voodoo!


Mobana had continued his speech. "So behold my prisoner bride. A princess of our most hated nemesis; the arrogant media."


The African drums thundered through the high ceiling hall as two lines of dignitaries parted and she entered. Flanked either side by regal presidential bodyguards she looked like a small porcelain figurine in a long flowing white gown her steadying steps showing a glistening thigh and shin, her bosom rampant thrusting out exposed for lustful eyes, her shaven mound slightly hidden by the swirls of fabric.





The crowd looked in admiration and there was an audible gasp as quickly many eyes recognised the supposedly dead news hound, risen from the grave and enhanced for pleasure.


As the blonde beauty from the afterlife was slowly pushed down the aisle towards a high altar Kajal could pick out dignitaries of nearby states. Many she had seen or even interviewed before. None looked away in shame, quite the contrary most wanting to catch her gaze to look lustfully and arrogantly into her big piercing blue eyes. Each one was enjoying her embarrassed lip biting face and then looking in respect and admiration to general Mobana as he glowed in pride.


"Yes this is my finest hour!" The fat dictator thought as his angel floated towards him.


Kajal was flushed in humiliation, her breasts a visual feast, her total debasement evident to all. She'd come across his quasi-voodoo religion before while a guest in this country. It was a cruel and bizarre religion of sacrifice and mother goddess worship.





"What insane plans does he had in store for me?" She thought as she took nervous high-heeled steps forward, the drums sounding.


Ahead a witch doctor danced and gibbered in strange tongues; large totem poles with crazy phallic carvings flanking his matrimonial alter. The general was there in his finest uniform looking triumphant, a preening peacock of a leader enjoying his occasion. Behind the witch doctor standing on a plinth was a huge ape of a man, a jet-black Nubian warrior maybe 6 foot 4 bulging muscles; thighs like tree trunks. He was naked apart from a loin cloth, his shovel hands massaging together in preparation like he was an Olympic weightlifter about to go for gold. Kajal looked to her right to see Koko bowing in sarcastic courtesy along with the awful psychotic son, little Mobana.


The escorting guards pressed on her shoulder making the waif bride drop to her knees in front of the crazy holy man, his mask a multicoloured plumed extravaganza.


The drums continued to resonate a deep thunder throughout the hall. And Kajal felt the heat and noise like a soothing hypnotic blanket.


The ceremony was a wailing cacophony of dance and sacrifice. A chicken slaughtered then at its climax Mobana placed a gold collar around her elegant neck. As he did his foul breath spat words of contempt at her. "At last you know your place, woman."


The general stood back the crowd applauding the witch doctor prostrate on the ground exhausted by conversing with the nether world.


Koko and Madam Chui took Kajal's bound arms, making her climb the few steps to the altar plinth. There the huge Nubian stood his body glistening like a prize racehorse.


"Now in the tradition," Koko said sweetly twisting her around forcing her to kneel at the top of the steps, "the bride's first duty is to suckle her new tribe in a sign of benevolence and generosity."


"What?" Kajal gasped feeling the Nubian squat behind her, his two powerful hands gripping her breast low down near their bases. His body pressed into her back, pinning her tied arms, his cupped palms holding her tits like a push up bra.


"Don't worry," Koko added as she stepped back and ordered a queue of guests already forming, "the powerful beast behind you will do all the milking."


And with that his hands tightened like vices her teats foaming then beginning to spit creamy fluid.





The first two down to her big pink nipples were her bodyguard escort. Both majors in the general's army the bullet headed warriors mouths encircled her teats their hands by their sides the Nubian squeezing her breast the milk spurting onto their tongues as they sucked and licked. The men acted strange more reverent now eyes closed the enjoyment of savouring her breast added to by a halo of religious honour.


With each powerful squeeze she gave a little yelp until after a minute they both bowed and backed away, lips dribbling as Kajal gasped and saw two more eager faces drop before her.


"Oh God not everyone! Please!"


As the drums hammered away the line of guests began their visit to the white fountains of Babylon.


The general was stiff in his pants and the sight wondrous. His arrogant cock sure reporter now elevated to suckling voodoo mother of his tribe. The Nubian set about his task diligently, his ape like palms unflinching in their tit attentions. Each powerful grope released a copious amount of milk into the mouth and onto the chins of one after another of the guests






Some sucked like angry hogs biting and pulling her big bags Kajal groaning as her nipples stretched. Others enveloped as much of her amazing globes as possible a steady stream of liquid spitting down their gullets.


Men and women seemed oblivious to any shame or remorse all accepting the tradition and dismissing the moans and obvious discomfort of the woman as an irrelevance.


Kajal's tits ached and the sensation of liquid release mixed with the sounds of slurping and the pressure of vice lick groping was a powerful concoction. The humiliation was unbearable. She shook her head looking to the ceiling as one man helped his own wife take Kajal's white juice out of one then the other breast, the dutiful partner coughing with the load in her mouth.





Next the Kajal's eyes were wide in disgust as two fat old men, one a foreign business man the other the general's health minister battled like a pair of ravenous dogs chewing on her domes. The Nubian wrestled to keep hold of his milking bags as the men both who she had met and enchanted at cocktail parties seemed to become unhinged with lust and fervour. But they were only allowed a minute like all the rest and had to back away frustrated by their big black lips glistening with her bounty.


The drumming helped her drift away. She imagined herself at home but the constant attention was never fully drowned. She hoped she'd feint or at least stop noticing each hungry lustful face as her breasts were fed to them.





Her enhanced bosom was a medical wonder. She now realised that the quiet professional doctor had gone about his task well. Each day injecting and weighing until he'd created these vessels of plenty.


When it came to Little Mobana and Koko's turn she was thankfully becoming desensitised. The two siblings acted like all the rest. To see them you would have thought they'd never sampled her delights before as they pulled her nipples out to amazing lengths, their teeth like pincers, their hungry slurps like camels drinking at an oasis.






As they stood Koko's long fingers trailed down Kajal's chest over her boobs then over the tiring Nubians hand. "My he is powerful isn't he?" She said to Kajal as she gave him a lip licking came her look, aware that his no doubt rampant erection would need some attention afterwards. The Nubians hands squeezed with excitement of possibility; but first he still had a long queue to deal with.


An hour later the general drank from his fine crystal as the man seated next to him at the banquet whispered, his eyes watching that no one else was listening.


"President," he said with less reverence than Mobana's subject," the rebels are willing to talk. I think there will be an opportunity for peace."


The general gulped more wine as the prime minister of his neighbouring country continued his message.


"My friend you may need to bow to some self rule in the north, but you will have peace."


The general scoffed the prime minister a little annoyed as he had his own intelligence services who knew Mobana was losing this war. The general was distracted looking down the table. Another dignitary was razing his hand asking to begin the show.


"Please President Mobana it must be time for my gift," he laughed. Then looking up to stroke blonde curls he added. "Even if just to give your new bride a chance to recharge."


Above his head suspended over the banquet was Kajal. She was naked now apart from heels. Hanging like a high cliff diver legs together arms out wide. Her breast swayed as she tried to wriggle hanging down like two bladders of milk. And as she had groaned and writhed many guests had filled their cups with her fluids like some obscene human vending machine.





The entire table laughed agreeing that she must be milked dry by now and Mobana clapped his hands to his servants to begin the show. The prime minister gripped his arm and the general's indifference starting to bite.


"Mobana," he said, catching his eye," you must meet them."


The general's smile faded and he nodded to his ally reluctantly in acceptance.