3 comments/ 40718 views/ 8 favorites Tribal Fantasies By: Lion24655 Tribal Honour - a way-out fantasy! It had been a terrible four months. Until four months ago everything had been fine where I lived, but then the neighbours moved away, the house was sold, bought by a private landlord, and new neighbours - tenants of his - arrived. There was nothing wrong with the new neighbours. They were really nice, gentle people and as a good neighbour I helped them settle in, did some jobs for them, helped as any good neighbour would. Once I drove one of them to hospital because they were developing a harsh chest infection, and I had helped the neighbours deal with the health services. But there was a problem. Up until that moment the road had been exclusively white, middle class, and it was going to stay that way. The new neighbours weren't. They were black. They were African. They were asylum seekers. And they were not welcome by most people on our road. There were five adults - all women aged from about 18 to 40. Valerie was the oldest, Holly her sister next. Jasmine was perhaps mid twenties, cousin of the other two. Sophie was 21, daughter of Valerie. Ruth was the youngest, daughter of Holly, only eighteen. I had heard their stories - their husbands and fathers killed in fighting, how they had walked for many weeks to escape the fighting, how, in the end, they had been smuggled out of the country. Their stories were terrifying, and they at least deserved this respite from the horrors of their own country. Unfortunately the horrors of this country were almost as bad. Ruth - the youngest of them, was bullied in the street. Racist obscenities were painted over their walls. Bricks thrown through their windows. The older women spat at in the street. I was horrified - these were people who needed our help, yet no-one else could see it. I helped as best I could. There was, of course, a cost to my helping. The friendly road where I lived quickly became very unfriendly. People I used to chat to ignored me in the street. I too had the slogans painted on my house. My car was keyed. I also got the abuse from local teenagers - all for just helping neighbours. It came to a head on bonfire night. The street had had a bonfire party - to which neither myself or my neighbours were invited. Afterwards the local yobs lit a bonfire in the garden of my neighbours, they started throwing fireworks at the house, pushing burning paper through the letter box. The adults from the street just stood around laughing and drinking. I phoned the police, but as I put the phone down I realised I had to do something - smoke was coming from the house next door. I charged out, demanded the yobs stop. I opened the door of the neighbours house, stamped on the fire burning in the hall, trapping them upstairs, I got them out and told them to go to my house. I screamed at the yobs to go away. They did stop terrorising the neighbours - they turned on me. I felt the boot and lost consciousness just as the police arrived. Luckily I was not hurt badly, and returned home a few days later. The neighbours had been moved elsewhere - their house too badly vandalised and burnt to live in. I was lucky in that the police had boarded up my house, and It wasn't badly damaged. I could live with the slogans daubed on the walls for the time being. No-one was charged for the attack - no-one else in the road would testify, and now that the asylum seekers had moved I was left alone, ignored, apart from a bit of name-calling. The next month or so returned to some normality, but I wasn't looking forward to Christmas. My family was overseas, and over recent years different people in the street had held parties and dinners and I'd had a good time. None of that would happen this year. It would be worse because I had to work to Christmas Eve and couldn't get away at all. I resigned myself to fate, read the telly pages and got in food and drink. I was surprised suddenly by a strong "man from the ministry" knock on the door, about 7.30pm on Christmas Eve. I had sat down to watch the telly, beer can in hand when the heavy knock came. I struggled to my feet, opened the door, found myself suddenly surrounded by three tall thickset black men smartly dressed in suits. They looked for all the world like nightclub bouncers or gangland fixers. One spoke - "come with us." It was a voice not to be denied. "Come with us, and you will not be hurt". "I think I have no choice............" I spluttered. "You are right, friend" the leader replied. Within seconds I was in a car racing through the streets, sat between two of the men in the back, the third driving. No-one spoke. After 30 minutes we arrived at wherever our destination was - we pulled into the front drive of a semi-detached house. I was taken in, through the hall, and sat in the sitting room on an armchair. The three men stood silently as we waited, but giving no space for questions or a chance to speak. It gave me time to take in the sitting room - simply furnished, but with orange walls, an orange loud-patterned carpet, ethnic patterned furniture. I was looking around as I heard the front door open, people coming into the hall way. I reflected - I was so far beyond frightened that I was calm and collected.......... "Stand up, please". The leader of the three men beckoned me to my feet. The door opened. In walked the five asylum seeker women. I was shocked, just hadn't put it together......... Next was even more surprising, as they fell to their knees in front of me. The leader of the three men broke into a great smile, shook my hand. "Sorry, my friend", he said, "but we knew that if you knew what was happening your modesty would have stopped you - you would have stayed at home. But you are a hero to us. You befriended these, our ladies, in their need. You defended them, you saved their lives in the fire. At great cost to you. You are a hero............." Suddenly all three men were shaking me by the hand, congratulating me, the 5 ladies on their knees applauding. It was all too much - I burst into tears. They laughed and hugged me even more. At last the leader of the men spoke again, placing a necklace around my neck. "Mr Bill, we give you a great honour, you are fe-handa. We leave now - we leave you with your friends." The men were gone. It had all been too much, I slumped back into the seat, ordering the ladies not to kneel. They quickly got to their feet, quickly produced a rough approximation of a cup of English tea. They chatted about how they had been re-housed while I was in hospital, how they had begun to make friends, how in their new home they had found a warm welcome from their neighbours, how the "awful time" was gone. How they had settled now. Their chatter about their move and what had happened eased the tension, I relaxed, we chatted about the new life they had made. They also mentioned that they had contacted the tribal council who had heard what I had done, and agreed that I should be Fe-Handa. However, every time I asked what "Fe-handa" was they moved the subject elsewhere. It was about ten in the evening when I felt it was time to leave, and said I needed to get a taxi. The oldest of the ladies, about 40 - Valerie, held up her hand to stop me. "You are Fe-handa." I looked bemused as she continued. "We knew you would be alone this Christmas. That is why we have brought you here. You will stay with us until after what you call boxing day. And you are Fe-handa". I still couldn't understand. "What is Fe-handa?" I asked in confusion. Even more confusing was the response as the five ladies began to giggle and wink at each other, each telling someone else to explain... At last Valerie spoke. "Fe-handa is a great honour our people bestow on only a few people - heroes, like you. We have organised for you to be Fe-handa - your necklace is your badge of honour, which gives you special privileges". She hesitated, as the other women giggled. "Special privileges. It means you can have any woman from our tribe. Whether she is married or single, she is yours to use as you want." I was still confused. "I don't understand.............." Valerie continued. "Women from our tribe always have this tattoo" - she showed a tattoo on the back of her forearm. If you see a woman like that, then say to her you are Fe-handa, show her your necklace, and she is yours. To do as you want with. It is a great great honour for any of our women to be used by a Fe-handa. You are the first Fe-Handa who is not our colour - you are already known throughout our people." I spoke. "Sorry, let me get this right. I can now go up to any woman in your people and she will have sex with me?" Valerie replied very simply: "Yes." Then one of the others took over: Valerie's sister, Holly. "But it's more than that - you can use them for any sexual acts you want, but we trust the honour of a Fe-handa that he will not hurt us. But if you want to hurt us or abuse us, we cannot say no." My head was reeling. I gasped out: "I would never want to hurt anyone. Whenever I've been with someone I've desperately wanted them to enjoy it." I suddenly realised what I was saying. "No, its not right. I can't use people like that." Holly replied: "We know you won't use people, we know that if you do take any woman you will want to pleasure them, not hurt them. That is the honour of the Fe-handa. But whatever you say, you now have that privilege - our people have bestowed it on you." I sat quietly, my mind whirling. I spoke: "Can I have another cup of tea?" We sat quietly as I drank my cup of tea, before Valerie continued. "You may, if you want, use those privileges later. But this is Christmas." Suddenly she went very coy. "You will stay with us for a few days - as long as you want. And we will serve you. You will share our bed. You can make us do anything. We cannot offer you anything because we have nothing. But you can have our bodies. Whenever, however you want." I suddenly realised I was quite aroused. But the confusion was too much at this stage. "I can't. It's too confusing. I've never thought of you that way. I wouldn't want to take, I want to give pleasure - that's what excites me. But no. I don't know." At last Holly took pity on me. "It's too late tonight to go home. Sleep here in our spare room. Eat with us tomorrow. Perhaps in the morning you will feel freer to decide." Within minutes I found myself in a tiny bedroom with just space for a single bed, sitting on the bed, undressing, finding a toothbrush there for me. Lying in bed, mind whirling trying to sleep. Hearing noises, the women all sleeping in the other room in the house. It was probably the early hours before my mind ran out of energy, I was asleep. I slept surprisingly well. The sense that people wanted me around, wanted to do things for me - I slept better than I had done for several months. I woke, at first confused, thinking I had dreamt everything, feeling something was wrong, or different. The first thing I noticed was the smell of cooking from elsewhere in the house, the smell of spicy food. Then noticed that it was light, so into the morning. Then the sound of radio and Christmas. Remarkably the last thing I was aware of was that I was not alone in the bed - it was their movement which gave them away. I suddenly realised I was in a sandwich - not just one other person, but two others lying with me, one on each side, each with their arms around me. As my awareness came back I could feel they were both naked. As was I. Pressed up together. It was all too much - I was instantly stiff, which the two girls were not slow to notice. As I woke I felt the girl in front of me allowing her hands to dance over my cock and balls, caressing, fondling, squeezing gently, exploring. It felt so good. The other girl was running her hands all over my back, but as I awoke more I felt her hands begin to run over my ass, gently pushing between the cheeks of my ass. Gently tickling deeper and deeper, until her fingers had found my asshole. It was too much. I didn't even know which of the girls was in front of me, but pushed her onto her back, grasped her breasts, squeezed her nipples as I pushed my mouth to hers, my tongue thrusting in to meet her tongue. She gasped, but her nipples were stiff, and her tongue responded to mine. Quickly my hand went lower, my fingers running through her soft pubic hair, was quickly between her legs. Somehow there was no time for niceties - I pushed my finger, then two fingers straight inside her moist pussy, still with a hand grasping a breast, still with my mouth glued to hers. As rough as I was, I felt her body responding, her hips gently rising to meet my probing hands. She was gasping against my mouth, pulling away slightly to moan. As I slid my fingers in and out of her, I let the heel of my hand rest on her clitoris, and pushing and caress gently there. It took the girl by surprise, pleasant surprise as she thrust her hips up hard to meet my hand. Her mouth pulled away from mine as she moaned in pleasure. Within seconds her body was writhing, her pussy squeezing my fingers, until suddenly she exploded in orgasm, her hips thrust upwards, moaning loudly, her pussy now sopping wet. For what seemed like minutes her body bucked in orgasm, but slowly she slowed down, calmed, sighed, lay back on the bed. But I needed more. Quickly I moved so my head was buried between her legs - I had to taste her. I let my tongue trace her pussy, tasting, taking in her wetness - she tasted so good. I thrust my tongue inside her, then moved it to her clitoris, then back to her pussy. Within seconds she was becoming aroused again. Within seconds she was breathing heavily, moaning gently as my mouth, my tongue took over her pussy, nibbling the lips, thrusting into her, tickling her clit. Again her body was squirming, particularly as I concentrated more and more on her clit. Suddenly her body exploded into orgasm again - I held my tongue deep in her as her body shook, her hips thrusting up and down, her orgasm even stronger than her first. Again she calmed down, wrapped her arms around my head, but my lust still hadn't been satisfied. I rolled on top of her, between her legs, put the tip of my cock to the lips of her pussy and plunged fully in her in one movement. Her pussy so wet it welcomed me deeply. The girl gasped as I held deep inside her - I whispered to her - "you want pleasure, I hope you are getting it." Her reply was instant - "fuck me, please fuck me - this is the best ever..............." I slowly began to slide my cock in and out of her pussy, her body responding to my thrusts, her hips thrusting up to meet my thrusting. I had forgotten the other girl completely, but was vaguely aware of her as I felt a finger probing my asshole, slipping through the ring. It made me harder as I fucked the girl underneath, faster and faster and faster, until as her third orgasm exploded, so I exploded, filling her with my cum. I pumped hard, never produced more. Filled her pussy, her milking me with the muscles of her pussy..... At last our orgasms had passed, I rolled off her, and only then looked to see which of the girls I had taken. It was Sophie, who looked exhausted, her hair dishevelled. I whispered to her. "Sophie, you were fantastic. I hope it was as good for you." She replied instantly. "Fe-handa. That was the best." The other girl had slipped out of the bed and left us. Only now do I realise I never knew which of them it was. After a few moments we got out of the bed, put on robes that were in the room, and sheepishly went downstairs. As we entered the sitting room, the other women were all there and clapped and giggled, and asked Sophie more questions in a fun way - none of which Sophie could answer from her embarrassment. I answered for her simply. I told them Sophie was fantastic, a wonderful person, beautiful, and utterly and completely delightful in bed. And could I have some breakfast! And happy Christmas to everyone. While the ladies were preparing breakfast I disappeared to shower and get dressed, joining them again at in the kitchen diner. For some reason they were giggling again. I sat, not sure what was happening. Valerie put the cooked breakfast in front of me. There was a huge sausage on the plate, with two grilled halves of tomato placed in an "appropriate" spot. At the other end of the sausage they had placed two rashers of bacon, either side of the sausage. It looked very very obscene! I stared, they laughed and giggled like little girls. I had to join in. As they calmed down Valerie spoke. "I'm sorry, leaving our own country, coming to a place where people don't seem to want us - it's grim. And losing all our men folk. Please forgive us. This is the first time since we left that we can laugh. And celebrate. You coming here for Christmas has set us free and broken barriers down." Suddenly we were all in tears. I went around the table, lifted Valerie to her feet and put my arms around her and hugged her long and hard while she shed her tears. At last she pulled herself together, so I stepped back slightly from her, kissed her softly on the lips, then lifted her so she was sat on the kitchen units. I reached under her dress, whispered "help me" to her, then gently removed her panties as she lifted herself off the side. I dropped the panties to the floor, then leant forward, put my head under her skirt and kissed her softly on the lips of her pussy. My tongue flicked her lips, and I felt her gasp, her body squirm slightly. I let my tongue caress the lips, then gently push into her already wet pussy, swirling, making her squirm. For 5 or 6 minutes I allowed my tongue to play on her pussy, entering her, nibbling the lips, before I flicked her clit. The moment I did she moaned in pleasure, issued an insistent "yes, please, more," while my tongue returned to her pussy. A few seconds later I let my tongue caress her clitoris again, while gently easing two fingers into her sopping wet pussy. As I let my fingers repeatedly enter and withdraw, my tongue caressed her clit and her body squirmed, accompanied by insistent groaning. I let my fingers find her g-spot, then let my tongue rapidly move on her clit, her body squirming. Suddenly she screamed out, her body shook, her pussy squeezed my fingers as her orgasm overtook her body. The wetness of her pussy increased, she cried "yes" several times. Her body tense in orgasm. At last she calmed down. The others giggled and clapped. I turned embarrassedly, to see the others smile, to see Holly and her cousin Jasmine arm in arm laughing and leading the applause, sat next to each other on a sofa. Sophie and Ruth had sat on kitchen chairs to watch and joined in with the smiles and applause. I picked up Valerie's panties and turned to her, still sat on the kitchen side. I smiled. "I don't think you will need these again over Christmas". I put the panties in my pocket. She looked down in coyness, obviously embarrassed to have made such a show in front of her relatives. But she still spoke so I could hear. "That was wonderful." Then she spoke in an almost childish voice: "I don't want to wear panties when you are here." I needed a coffee! We made coffee, we all went through to the sitting room, Ruth first, Valerie, myself, Holly, still arm in arm with her cousin Jasmine, last Sophie. Holly sniggered. "So, Valerie and Sophie have had their pleasure. What are you going to do for the rest of us?" I turned my head to the side, looked innocent, smiled. "What do you mean, Holly?" I asked in mock naiveté. Holly giggled again. She turned on a little girl voice. "I want my share". "Mmmmmmmmmmmm............." I pretended to ponder..... Holly continued in mock severity. "I demand to have my share!" "Okay..........." again I pretended to ponder for a moment, "..........then make love to Jasmine." Tribal Fantasies Suddenly Holly had lost all the apparent confidence. "What? Couldn't. No.........." she stumbled over her words. Suddenly Jasmine, the quietest of the family, turned to her cousin Holly and whispered. "I've always wanted this......." She leant over and kissed Holly on the lips, pushing her tongue into Holly's mouth. The other three stared fascinated, as little by little Holly began to respond. But Holly, the apparent confident one, was now allowing Jasmine to seduce her. We watched as Jasmine's hands explored Holly's body, caressing her breasts, squeezing her nipples, undoing her blouse, putting her hands in her bra. The more Jasmine did, the more Holly melted and allowed Jasmine do. I spoke quietly to Jasmine. "Jasmine - strip her." Jasmine pulled Holly to her feet and quickly removed her clothes, first her blouse, then her bra, allowing Holly's breasts fall free. Then removing her trousers, finally her panties. Jasmine quickly removed her own clothes - her dress, bra, panties. The two women stood naked before us, then Jasmine pulled Holly into her arms, kissed her again, began gently rubbing her body against her, their nipples rubbing each other hard. We watched as Jasmine's hand disappeared between Holly's legs, causing Holly To moan. Within seconds Jasmine had Holly lying on her back on the floor, had knelt astride her in a 69, and begun kissing Holly's pussy. Holly began to moan gently at Jasmine's work. I leant over and whispered to Holly "why don't you kiss her back?" Tentatively she reached out with her tongue, and began to caress Jasmine's pussy, then wrapped her arms around her and buried her mouth in Jasmine's pussy. The two were squirming, caressing, moaning, hotter and hotter.......... There is only one thing better than watching a woman orgasm and that's watching two women orgasm. Jasmine and Holly tensed, cried out, came together............... I looked to Ruth - the only one who had not been pleasured. Ruth was eighteen, but looked much younger. She was very pretty, very sweet. "Honey - we ought to have Christmas dinner. But you will be my desert." Ruth nervously giggled. Lunch was a fun meal - Valerie had excelled herself mixing traditional English food with African spices. The girls were lively, a bit bawdy, giggly. We ate, drank a little, relaxed. I sat on the sofa and invited Ruth to join me, to cuddle up to me. We just cuddled, with me occasionally cupping her breasts, or running my hand over her. Occasionally I would kiss her - she tasted and felt so young and girl-like, her body young and slender. At last I lifted her in my arms and simply carried her to the bedroom, and lay her gently on the bed. I slowly removed her t-shirt, her bra, her jeans, her panties, till she lay there naked, beautiful, shy, embarrassed. I stripped off my clothes and lay next to her. I took Ruth in my arms and softly kissed her, gently caressing her lips with mine, allowing my hands to slowly explore her body, caress her, squeeze her gently. She was clearly enjoying it, but too embarrassed to touch me back, so I gently and slowly made love to her. My hands caressed her breasts, squeezed her nipples, until at last I gently put my hands between her legs. Still going very softly I kissed her on her breasts, allowed my fingers to explore the lips of her pussy, before pushing a finger gently inside her. For many minutes I kissed her as I allowed my finger to explore the inside of her pussy - she was clearly enjoying it as her pussy became moister and moister. At last I allowed my thumb to gently flick her clitoris, which caused her to hold me tightly and moan softly. For a few moments I played with her clit, her body responding, but then moved my thumb away again to continue to play with her pussy. I allowed a finger to play with her tiny rosehole further on while my finger stayed in her. For perhaps 15 minutes I played with her, occasionally allowing my thumb to caress her clit, but never allowing her to approach orgasm. At last I moved my mouth to her pussy, removed my finger and replaced it with my tongue, again caressing her, sometimes playing with her clitoris, but again never letting her orgasm. It was obvious she was getting more and more excited, more and more frustrated, more and more aroused, but I again lay beside her, putting my fingers back in her pussy, kissing her on the mouth. For perhaps 45 minutes I kept her in a state of arousal sometimes with my tongue, sometimes with my fingers, never quite reaching orgasm, until I spoke softly to her: "Invite me in". Her voice as quiet and coy, but she did not hesitate. "Please take me." I rolled on top of her, put the tip of my cock to her pussy and pushed gently in. It was too much for her - she cried out, her body shook as it pushed her over the edge to her orgasm, she screaming out loud, holding me tight with arms and legs wrapped around me, long moments of arousal finding huge relief. I waited until her orgasm had subsided then slowly began to slide my cock in and out of her. I spoke to her again. "I want you to watch the face of the man fucking you. I want you to be aware of my cock sliding in and out of you. I want you to know when I'm pumping my cum into you". As I spoke I slid in and out quicker and quicker, until I cried out, pumping my cum deep inside her, pumping and pumping until I felt I had emptied myself completely into her. At last we slid apart. We dressed, we returned to the sitting room. We retuned to find Holly and Valerie naked in each other's arms, Jasmine and Sophie sitting together naked, looking exhausted. The rest of the Christmas break was wonderful. They set up a bedroom so all of us could sleep on two mattresses on the floor, and I stayed beyond where we had agreed, making love to each of them in turn, watching them becoming more and more comfortable with each other, making love to each other. It was on new years eve the letter arrived, and it was Valerie who told me of it's contents. She told me they were very sad, but very happy. The letter had come from the immigration authorities. Someone had told them that there were other people living at the house, which was not allowed in the rules. As such the authorities would moved them on the 2nd January to another city 200 miles away as part of their "dispersal programme". They had no choice. I was heartbroken, but the ladies were happy. It was Valerie who explained: "Mr Bill, you can come with us if you want, but we are happy to be going there - we have family in that city. We have many uncles and aunts and cousins in that city. Many from our village live there. It might be bad, but it has worked out well for us." I wanted to go. But I had a job. I had a house. Even if I moved it would be months away. I promised I would visit, and see whether it was possible, but would not follow immediately. The truth was I wanted to see whether there was more than just wonderful sex with these women. Whether I wanted to be with them for ever. Could this Christmas ever happen again? I would see how things went. On the Monday the women hugged and kissed. At last Valerie spoke. "Mr Bill. Fe-handa. We want to thank you. The system had just made us into animals. But you have turned us back into women. We will give you all that we can." She handed me a carrier back, a bag which contained 5 pairs of panties of different sizes. It was then the minibus appeared, and in minutes they were gone. My taxi arrived just as men arrived to board up the house. I returned for the first time to my house since Christmas Eve. Over the next couple of months life began to return to normal. Work was fine. Some people in the street began to acknowledge my existence, but it was time to put the house on the market and move. It wasn't hard to sell the house for a good price - commuter world is a good place to own a house, and by May I was moving into a new home a few miles away, in a much more multi-cultural area - my "contact" with five black women had taught me how good it was to live in a mixed culture. My memories of the Christmas period were wonderful, and the bag of panties I treasured but kept at the bottom of the wardrobe. I kept in touch with the five women, and it was great to hear that they got their residence, and had begun to study and make new lives for themselves, Valerie and Jasmine already having met men to be prospective husbands. I knew I might meet them again, but also knew that we would never be able to re-create that Christmas. Yes, I was Fe-handa, but the atmosphere would not happen again - I was what they needed, they were what I needed at that moment, and that moment had impelled us into the rest of our lives, positive lives. I read and studied as much as I could the code of the Fe-handa, the code of honour, and vowed I would always keep to that code. Respect and honour to all people, respect and honour shown most truly in the manner of sexual union. There was little more to find, and by the end of March I was losing the memory of Fe-handa as life moved on. It was towards the end of May as I settled into my new home, as the weather turned warmer, that I went into a local pizza parlour, that I noticed her. The waitress. The black girl was perhaps in her mid-twenties, but her face was full of sadness. She was polite, but there was no spark in her eyes. But I noticed on her forearm the tattoo. The same tattoo that Valerie and the others had. I wasn't sure how to react - I didn't. I paid and left. I went to the pizza restaurant twice more, and the same girl was there working as a waitress, the same dull eyes, the same sadness, but by the way she treated customers there was a glimmer of the real woman underneath the sorrow. And there was no question - potentially she could be a beautiful women - tall, slim, attractive, but a beauty marred by her inability to smile from her sorrow. As I left the café the third time I handed her my letter and said she had to read it. I said to her - she might want to see this, and showed her the necklace I had been given. She gasped, and I could feel her eyes boring into me as I left the café. Next morning, as I had invited her, I heard a knock on the door at 9.00am. I opened the door to see the same woman, the waitress from the café, her face still looking solemn and downcast. I invited her in and sat her on the armchair, gave her coffee. Her air had something about it - perhaps a hint of defiance. "Well," she said, as soon as she had drunk her coffee. "Aren't you going to take me to the bedroom?" a hint of bitterness in her voice. I paused for a moment. "Not today. Maybe never................." "But you are Fe-handa, the white Fe-handa, that's what you do, isn't it?" I smiled. "No - we honour ladies, we do not use them". Again I paused. "I want to know you first. Your story. Perhaps you could start by telling me your name." The girl was called Margaret. It was a long story, a remarkable one, taking the rest of the morning to hear. She was an asylum seeker, working illegally. She was a widow - her husband had been killed. Remarkably Margaret was a doctor, but couldn't practice. Margaret lived in a small flat, sharing a room with two other girls, sleeping on a mattress on the floor. Sixteen of them shared one toilet, one bathroom. Margaret was working 14 hours a day at the café just to make ends meet - today she had simply phoned in sick. The tale was awful. At lunch time I fed her, then spent the afternoon on the phone. Through contacts of contacts she was interviewed at a local hospital desperately needing doctors. Through some registration scheme her training and experience was accredited. It took 4 weeks for her to start work on a temporary visa, working in the gynaecology department. For those four weeks she had stayed in my spare bedroom, and I had made no move on her - she needed to be able to regain her dignity, her chance to make choices, and I knew that she had to be free to choose whether we made our relationship physical in any way. Even better for Margaret, she was offered hospital accommodation - a flat near to where she worked. The evening before Margaret moved to her flat we had a special meal together. We chatted, until at last she said, "Mr Bill, I want to thank you, I want to thank you and the only way I know how is in your bed. Can I thank you properly tonight?" I looked long and intently at her face, now transformed from the sad and lifeless face I had first encountered into the smiling lively face of a woman transformed. But there was something......... "Let me guess" I said quietly. "I think you want to thank me and you are prepared to give yourself. But I don't think you want to. I think you feel that by sharing my bed you will be disloyal to the husband you adored and who died only four months ago." I had already heard much of her story over the previous weeks. I continued: "I think you are not ready to be with someone else. You will do it for duty, but you will not do it for joy. And if you cannot do it for joy, then we will not do it." Margaret burst into tears. "But how can I thank you?" I handed her a tissue. "Thank me? Margaret, the greatest honour to receive is to be made Fe-handa by your people. To be given the gift of every woman in your people. I could take you, but my calling is also to honour every woman in your people too. And tonight, it will be honouring to you to say - spend the night with your husband, it is him you love, not me. Remember him, and honour him when you start work tomorrow." Margaret shed the tears that evening she had not shed for her dead husband. All through the evening she cried, through the night - whenever I was awake to hear. By next morning she had remarkably pulled herself together, dressed smartly, walking proudly. As she left she said: "Thankyou for last night. It is the best night I have spent in a long time. The tears I did not have were shed last night. Soon I will come back and you will be my Fe-handa." She hesitated. "And one last thing, I will send to you any of my people in need, to the white Fe-handa. They will know you are an honourable man. All will also be willing to honour Fa-handa." Margaret settled well into her work. We did spend one long hot night together perhaps three months later, but then she married another doctor at the hospital, her life going from strength to strength. It was Margaret who phoned me to tell me about a friend of hers, Alice. Could I help Alice? Or course I could, but it was a complicated story. Alice had been a friend of Margaret's, but then had married the tribal leader, and was seduced by the position and power, using her position not to harm others, but to build up her own status, her own wealth. She saw herself as higher than the rest of the people, more important. However when the government troops had attacked her husband was taken, and she only just escaped with her teenage daughter, and in the end had escaped to this country. She had approached Margaret, and demanded that Margaret find her somewhere suitable to live, where she could be served by her people. Margaret had explained how difficult it was, but wondered whether I could help. Alice had immediately demanded that I house her and provide her and her daughter with the standard of living she was used to. Margaret had mentioned Fe-handa, and Alice had snorted - "Perhaps he is the right person to treat me as I should be treated, to treat me as a queen of the people." Margaret was phoning because she knew I would help, both help Margaret to deal with the pressure she was getting, and also to deal with the haughtiness of Alice and her daughter, who Margaret called Grace. She also told me that Alice and Grace were arriving by train from London in two days, and would I pick them up from the station. I met them at the station - Alice tall and strutting, dressed very smartly in African costume. Beside her was Grace, her daughter - tall and slim, dressed in T-shirt and jeans, perhaps 18. She looked a slim version of her mother, yet to fill out into womanhood. "You will take our luggage and take us to our home", Alice said by way of greeting, speaking very stiffly. I took their luggage, put it in the back of the car, and allowed the two women to sit in the back. We drove in silence for the ten minutes to the house. As I pulled into the drive Alice spoke again. "An adequate house. We will organise it properly." They walked through the door I had opened, leaving me to bring in the luggage. They moved through the house, decided the master bedroom would be theirs to sleep in, and told me to put the luggage on the bed, to make space in the cupboards for their things. "This is our room. For us to sleep in. Do not think the Fe-handa stuff will play any part in this house while we are here." Through the rest of the day I moved my clothes to the spare bedroom, prepared the house for the women, and prepared food for them. Alice and Grace both seemed to think they should be treated like royalty, and rarely said thankyous or pleases, spoke very condescendingly. By the time I went to be sleep I was hating Margaret for suggesting this................!!! For the next two days, little changed. I had to take them to the doctor, to the shops. Had to buy the food they liked. They were two very demanding house guests. Two very arrogant house guests. Only a couple of times did the starchiness break through. Firstly it was when I mentioned Alice's husband, and her eyes filled, and suddenly she looked very vulnerable and frightened., but it was only for a moment. Secondly it was when I mentioned to Grace that she would make new friends, and again that vulnerability appeared again, as she simply said "But I miss my old friends so much". Those two incidents suggested there were real people underneath the harsh exteriors, that the harsh exteriors were really a way of coping in their difficult situation. But that didn't make the first few days any easier, as Grace and Alice began to take over the house, even to trying to keep my sitting room to themselves, reducing me to little more than a servant. We could not have this. On the Sunday, after they had eaten and I had washed up lunch, Grace spoke. "You will go out so we can have peace in the house without you to interrupt us." Time to make a stand. It had to come. "No. I am going to stay here in this sitting room and I am going to watch my television, and I am going to enjoy soccer all afternoon. You are free to do what you want." The silence was electric. Alice pulled herself to her full height. "You will do what you are told. When I tell you to go out, you will go out." "No". The word "No" led to a torrent! Shouting at me explaining how she was wife of the king, how I had to serve her and her family, and how this was her home................. it went on for perhaps 10 minutes until she had run out of steam. I let her stop before speaking. "You will not talk to me like that." "I will talk to you however I want.................." another, even angrier, torrent of invective exploded from her. At last she ran out of steam, and I spoke quietly to her. "If you talk to me like that again I will cane you. This is my home. This is where I am offering you hospitality. But you are abusing my hospitality. You speak to me again like that and I will cane you." This time it was too much - she began to scream, how dare I say that to the wife of a king, to my superior. How dare I threaten her. I couldn't hurt her with a cane.............. Again it went on for several minutes............ I turned to Grace, her daughter and spoke fiercely - "Don't you dare move!" She wouldn't - even she looked shocked and horrified at her mother's attitude. I quickly got to my feet, pulled Alice over the arm of the settee, sat on her back, and within moments had her hands tied with silk scarves behind her back, had long silk scarves tying her feet to the legs of the chair. I sat her back on the chair, with her legs tied to each leg, spread wide, her arms tied behind her. Still she shouted, and continued shouting as I went to fetch the cane. Tribal Fantasies When I returned, she laughed - "you can't hurt me with that", she screamed. "I've been through a lot worse than you can do with that." I smiled at her - "Alice, the cane isn't the punishment. I've got something much worse for the punishment." With that I put a coffee table in front of her, pulled her forward so she was lying over it, her hands still tied, her legs still tied to the legs of the settee. I turned to Grace, her daughter. "Grace - you will watch. You will not move." Grace was suddenly too frightened to move, but there was something else there...... "This is the beginning of the punishment" I whispered, and took a pair of scissors and cut away Alice's dress, bra and panties. Within seconds I had her naked. I stepped back to admire - her beautiful tall shapely black body, it truly was sensational. There was nothing I couldn't see, as she lay spread eagle on her front over the coffee table. Alice had gone surprisingly quiet - now she had moved on to the "I am strong" phase, and was not going to let herself be daunted. I reach behind the settee for some other things I prepared earlier. I had a special vibrator which would go in pussy and asshole, as well as vibrate against a clitoris. Alice squirmed and demanded I stop as I eased the first part into her pussy, and cried even more as I eased the second part through the ring and deep into her ass. I picked up the vibrator's radio control, put it in my pocket. Alice was still defiant - "do you worst," she spat. I ignored what she said, and spoke to her. "We will continue with the cane and punishment until you beg for it." Alice was startled. "Beg for what?" I spoke to her again: "you will know". With that I cracked the cane across her ass for the first time. She screamed, squirmed. I let her settled, before I made the cane fall hard again parrallel to the first stripe - two bright red stripes embellishing the beautiful black ass that lay in front of me. This time I turned the vibrator on slightly and she jumped slightly as she felt it in her pussy, ass, on her clit. After a few seconds I turned the vibrator off, and this time let the cane fall hard across the top of her hips. Again she screamed, and this time I turned the vibrator on a bit more with the remote control. I left her with the vibrators working, until the pain had diffused. I turned the vibrator off, and again, flashed the cane across her ass. Again she screamed out, again I turned the vibrators on a bit stronger, leaving Alice to struggle with the pain and the effect of the vibrator on her. I looked at Grace, still sat transfixed in the chair. She now looked flushed, was squirming as if aroused. Three more times I slashed the cane across Alice's ass, each time following it with the vibrators, each time a little stronger, each time a little longer. Each time she squirmed a little more as the pain from the cane subsided. As I prepared for the next caning, I spoke softly to her. "I will continue this treatment until you beg for it." I let the cane fall again, then turned the vibrator on stronger, left it running until I heard her moan. I turned it off. I spoke again - "You can ask if you want". Still she remained defiant. Another three times I let the cane fall, three more times let the vibrator work in her. Each time invited her to beg if she wanted. After the next, I turned the vibrator on strongly, and left her for perhaps three minutes, her body squirming more and more, moans gently coming from her. I turned the vibrator off. Suddenly, as I turned the vibrator off she shouted out, she had broken. "Please let me cum". I spoke to her - "louder, Alice. We need to hear what you want." She cried out. "Please, turn the vibrator on again. Please let me cum. Please..........." I quickly turned the vibrator on full. I quickly removed the silk scarves from her hands and feet. I let her roll on the floor until she screamed out in orgasm, he body racked and twitching as she came, never seeming to slow. Of course she did slow, and then was lying on the floor, crying with the shame. Cumming like that. In front of this stranger. In front of her daughter. Allowing lust to take over her. I removed the vibrators, handed her a bathrobe. Made tea and coffee. Alice looked almost coy as she sat drinking her coffee. Grace looked flushed. Suddenly I was in control. "Alice", I spoke gently. "Was that good?" She could only nod. "How good?" She spoke quietly, her eyes bowed. "Fantastic." "Alice". I spoke to her quietly again. "I am Fe-handa. I honour you, but you are mine. But when I take you it will be for your joy. But I decide how and where. Do you understand?" "Yes, Fe-handa." I continued "And more - Grace is mine as well. And maybe I will teach you to give each other pleasure as well. But I choose, I am in charge, and you will serve me. Do you understand?" "Please not Grace - she's only..........." I held up my hand "Grace is 18. She has also just watched a stunning erotic display by you. She is excited. Within a few minutes she will be mine. Do you understand that?" Alice paused then let her eyes drop. "Yes Fe-handa". Within half and hour I let my cock slide deeply into Grace, a sweet and delightful girl, as her mother watched and held her hand. Grace, now the influence of her mother was broken, was sweet, delightful, beautiful in orgasm. Over the next few days, and into weeks, life together changed, and became very enjoyable. We shared a bed together. Chores together. We laughed together. Both became increasingly willing partners, both very erotic women, and after a couple of weeks became willing to make love to each other as well. The next few weeks were full of the country from which these refugees had come. The country was all over the news on the television. There was a coup. The newspapers ended up on my doorstep - the wife of the executed opposition leader was living with me. Politicians came and went. Secret service officers were obviously watching us. At last Grace was invited to return to be the president of her country, a calling she said she could not refuse. The limousine waited at the door as she and her daughter left. She spoke briefly. "Thankyou Fe-handa. You have healed us. You will come to our country soon." Gradually the people from the same people - including the women I had spent time with the previous year, returned to their own country. Margaret stayed, newly married, but it was clear the opportunities to be Fe-handa lessened hugely over the following months. Lessened until I received an airmail letter. With the president's seal. With an invitation............. "Dear Fe-handa, please come to our country as an honoured guest. Our people know what you have done for us. Please come prepared for a very busy time.........".