A White Man Haunted by Evil Spirits Part 1 – My dramatized true story as a white man in rural Africa involving blackmail, witchcraft, and extreme sexual experiences

**A White Man Haunted by Evil Spirits**

**Introduction**

Exciting and sometimes strangely talented women have always been part of my life. I want to share

some experiences and fantasies I had with Kamari from South Africa, hoping they will motivate you to

get some more extraordinary sexual experiences and to turn on your body, mind and, fantasy.

I will talk about my thoughts, dreams, and experiences with her. She is still my very big Love, a unique

and special African woman. I had the pleasure to spend some mystical and magical time with her. It all

started some 30 years ago in rural South Africa.

The first time I met her, was when I was living in a rural area in the Free State Province during the time

of Apartheid in South Africa. Nearly every day I was going to a shop where a beautiful voluptuous

mature black woman served me at the groceries store.

There was a strange kind of attraction between us every time we met but it was not allowed at that

time to come nearer to each other. It was forbidden by culture and by law in South Africa since I was a

white man originating from Germany.

One day I dared to approach that mystical African woman. I invited her to accompany me on a

business trip to the Goldfields, knowing exactly that would never happen but surprisingly a few days

later she agreed, and we spent a week together… this week has changed my life, my sexual feelings,

and desires forever. I became addicted to everything she was!

**Kamari**

When we reached our destination and got into the “hotel room”, it was a kind of traditional African

hut, we started straight away to kiss passionately, and she undressed instantly. I was confronted with

a typically shaped mature African body, a mother of three children with big saggy tits, a flabby belly,

and a big ass.

She opened my pants without asking and pulled out my cock. “Now fuck me as much as you want, I

am all yours,” she told me begging and somehow demanding. It was the first time I made love to such

a ’natural’ woman! I can just tell you it was awesome. Her body was a bit wobbly and hot, her big tits

were sensitive and soft, and her pussy was soft, wet, and juicy. We just fucked and fucked and made

love until we were both exhausted and satisfied.

After recovering from the act, I started to examine her body more thoroughly; she had a strange but

somehow exciting odor, and I got to know it comes from the hut where she was living.

They make fire inside the house and the smell of the smoke gets deep inside the skin and clothes since

they wash themselves and their laundry with pure soap bars without perfume. The body cream or

lotion she used was Vaseline Petroleum Jelly, another scent unknown to me.

When I examined her big soft pussy, I discovered a long labium shaped like two long ropes. Strange

but exciting I thought while she explained that since her girlhood she was massaging and stretching

her ‘handworks’ to make them longer.

“That’s what African men like”, she explained, “it is like the long straight hair your white women are so

proud of when they disclose them in the bedroom, and I am proud of my long ‘bedroom curtains’”.

I got so dazzled about her explanations and started to kiss and suck her XXL pussy flaps. Her juices

tasted sexy and intense, it was an aphrodisiac for me, and I started to make love with her again.

She was a unique big African jewel. During the night I already realized that she was casting a spell over

me, I felt that I was entering into a different world full of unknown feelings and desires…

She was so awesome and natural in her way she performed the most obvious things in life even the

act of relieving herself from pressurizing liquids. For this purpose, a bucket with a lid stood in the

corner of the hut.

She placed herself on the bucket with her big buttocks starting to relieve herself with strong loud

gushes. I wished I could see that explosion and not just hear the gushing against the plastic bucket.

She smiled at me, and I could see the relief on her face. I smiled back at her wishing the next time she

will use me as her bucket.

“I want to clean your pussy, please come over to me, I will lick you dry” I requested, and, to my

surprise, she didn’t object. I buried my mouth into her still wet pussy to absorb the last remaining

drops of her warm liquid.

She realized how much I enjoyed it and she managed to squeeze some more small gushes out for me.

“Next time don’t throw your liquid into the bucket; I want to drink it all and get drunk from your

natural champaign.” I requested.

“I can see it is true when my friend once told me that white men love to drink negro piss. Why do you

like it?” She asked me.

“When I am horny and excited, I want to taste everything you have for me. I guess it is like when you

eat your beloved chicken, you don’t leave anything worthwhile even nothing for your dogs,” I tried to

explain myself.

“You talk about chicken, are you not hungry? Let us order some KFC chicken and I will show you how I

eat a delicious chicken.

”She ate everything from the chicken pieces. The cartilages seemed to be a delicacy and the bones

were sucked out dry from the marrow. “I am satisfied now; chicken is always good for me,” she said

only leaving a small heap of crushed bones in the box.

“I have to poop now. Shall I throw it into the bucket, or do you want to eat my sausages filled with the

left leftovers from the chicken?” Kamari asked curiously, wondering about my reply.

“I am not so desperately hungry today, but thanks for the offer,” I joked, “but as a desert, I wouldn’t

mind licking your chocolate buttocks. You are my baby tonight.”

“Are you serious? That means what my friend told me about some white men is true again. You people

are weird!” she exclaimed.

“Do you think so?” I tried to defend myself. “When I have such a wonderful lady like you at my disposal

then I want to eat and enjoy everything edible from you only leaving the parts which could upset my

stomach. That is the same thing you do with your chicken, isn’t it?”

(In Southern Africa people like to speak about sexual issues in metaphors of food)

“No way, you can’t compare my love for eating chicken with your love to eat me. Perhaps you are a

disguised cannibal, and I must run away from you as quick as possible,” Kamari replied with a scared

expression.

I could see the distrust and fear in her face. “No, my dear, not at all. Did your friend say that white men

braai (it is a traditional word for grilling) and eat black women after they make love to them? Only

Black Widows do that.”

Kamari was pondering. “I am now here with you Werner because I came of my own will and wanted to

experience for myself if it is true what my friend told me about white men. I am a sceptical but

curious woman, but my gut feeling tells me that I can trust you somehow. I also like you in a certain

way but always wonder what will happen next.”

She went back to the toilet bucket and sat down. “Will you come to me, look into my eyes and, kiss me

while I do my business, please,” she requested.

I looked deep into her eyes and wondered what was in her mind now. Suddenly she started to release

some loud and long farts diffusing her very private odor into the room. She was still trying to smile at

me while pressing hard to get the job done.

As soon as her droppings started to fall into the bucket, she began to kiss me passionately. That was

my weirdest kissing experience ever. I enjoyed it very much and became horny. We both seemed to

have twisted minds and similar fetishes.

“I am done, please help me up,” Kamari requested and went back to the bed.

“Don’t you want to check if your Baby is clean now?” She asked and laid back on the bed lifting her

legs like a toddler. There was a small skid mark left and I removed it with my tongue. The smell was

stringent, but the taste was comparatively blunt.

“Now you have tasted my ‘Korobela’, do you know what that means in our culture?” She asked me. “It

means that you are mine now and you will automatically do whatever I want you to do,” she explained.

“That is called Korobela.”

In some ways she was right; from this day on I could never let go of her even until now some thirty

years later she is still very near to my heart and controls my emotional life.

**Visit to a Sangoma**

Sangomas in Southern Africa are fortune tellers and Medicine Men or Women using natural herbs and

the powers of the ancestors to heal as well as to put bad or good spells onto people.

At one time I decided to consult a renowned female Sangoma since I was experiencing some serious

problems within the relationship with my wife.

Over some time, she, her name is Queenie, turned from being a loving and caring wife into a cruel and

evil bitch using blackmail and abuse.

When I reached the hut of the Sangoma it was like entering into a secret sacred hideout. Outside it

was scorching hot and bright and inside the hut, it was cool and dark without windows and an intense

smell of strong herbs. At the far end of the room sat a big black Sangoma woman on the floor with a

straw mat in front of her. The mat was covered with various bones, seashells, and dice.

She was a mature African woman with dreadlocks and her body was covered with animal skins.

Around her wrists, ankle and neck were colorfully beaded bracelets and her ears donned heavy

earrings. Her lips were voluptuous, the teeth big and white with one gold crown on the central incisor.

The whole scenery was looking mysteriously and a bit scary, but I tried to put these thoughts aside

since I was told before that this Sangoma could be the one to help me out of my misery at home.

“Sit down in front of me white man, look into my eyes and don’t say a word, not yet”, she ordered me. I

got very curious about what to expect since I had never been to a Sangoma before.

I waited in anticipation until she suddenly started to shake her head and hands like she was getting an

epileptic fit. Suddenly her shaking stopped, “I have connected with my ancestors, and they tell me,

that you need my Muthi very urgently. (Muthi is an African word for strong herbal medicine and

witchcraft) I will throw the bones for you.”

She took the bones and other items from the mat into the palms of her hands, shook them in all

directions, opened her hands and, spat into them. “Now it is your turn, spit onto the bones.”

So I did, and she started shaking them in all directions and finally throwing them onto the straw mat.

She looked at the random configuration of the fortune-telling items while she started to shake her

head and arms again. “I am connecting to you through my ancestors. Wait until I get an answer,” she

explained.

“Oh ah oh ah ohhhh you are in big trouble”, she concluded, “but I will help you. You are experiencing

immense problems with your partner. She has poisoned you. She uses very strong Muthi to make you

helpless against her evil spirits and her evil mind. She abuses you and even tries to remote control you

with the help of her Sangoma. Oh ah oh ah ohhhh, but don’t worry, I have stronger Muthi than her

Sangoma. Trust me I am better than her evil witch doctor. I will win,” she assured me.

The Sangoma turned around and got some items from her herbal pharmacy. She collected a variety of

dried herbs, crushed them with a pestle in a clay bowl preparing two big jugs of herbal tea.

“Now we will start the first part of my treatment. You drink this full jug, and I will drink my jug. It is a

bit bitter but after a few minutes, you will feel that something goes on in your body; drink it quick,”

she recommended.

It tasted bitter, but I managed to drink the lot. She finished her potion before me and already started

preparing the next concoction. From a basket, she chose a variety of fruits and vegetables and soaked

them in a new brew of herbs. Her eyes started to roll like she was in a trance while mumbling and

singing words I couldn’t understand.

The herbal mixture in my system started slowly to show some effects, there was a warm shiver going

through my body and a sexual excitement was building up in my mind and gentiles.

I stared in disbelieve at the Sangoma while she was singing strange tunes and snapping with her

fingers. She stood up still dancing but extended her movements to her entire body, stamping with her

feet, and clapping with her hands. Her big breasts were shaking with the rhythm and underneath the

cow hide skirt, her strong thighs moved like foreplay to a traditional mating ritual.

Her Muti tea worked intensely on me, I felt my cock growing and growing, bulging my pants. She

realized it and danced even wilder, rolling her eyes, and shaking with her big tits. She came nearer and

nearer to me still dancing wildly.

I was still sitting on the floor while she was dancing and clapping constantly with her hands coming

nearer to me until the cow hide dress touched my face. Suddenly she stopped dancing. It was dead

quiet. She lifted her skirt, grabbed my head, and put it underneath her skirt. “Smell my cave and inhale

the odor!” she commanded.

My holy god. Where was I now? It was completely dark underneath her skirt in front of the opening of

her cave. The thatched hut was dim, her legs were black, and the skirt covered me in complete

darkness. “How does it smell?” she asked me.

“Intensive, but it makes me horny!”, I grumbled. “Goooood oh ah oh ohhhhh we are getting there.

This will now be your medicine chest and medicine dispenser. Use your tongue and go to the entrance

of my cave. How does it taste?” She wanted to know from me. “Strong, slimy, and very moist” I replied

moaning.

“Lick all the slime and get deep into the cave with your tongue” she commanded. I did it and it started

to taste better and better. She was dripping wet. She was very hairy; her cave was in the middle of a

thick forest. I started to endure it easier, and I guessed she was happy with the proceedings.

Suddenly a fountain of strong piss erupted into my mouth and onto my face. It was still completely

dark underneath her dress. I grabbed her big ass with my hands and tried to drink all her piss

medicine. It was a lot, a hell of a lot of bittersweet shale liquid. My hands were grabbing her ass

harder and harder while she dispensed her medicine into my mouth. I nearly choked but managed to

drink nearly all of it without spilling too much. I licked her big cave clean.

“Take your hands off my ass! Now put your finger deep into my anus and tell me what you feel” I stuck

my finger deep inside the anus and felt that sausage was making its way through the intestines. “It

feels like poop” I replied. “No, it is your medicine. Take your finger out and lick on it”. Yes, there was

some small brown stuff on the tip of my finger. I smelled it, tasted it, and wondered what kind of weird

traditional medicine that should be.

She stepped aside and my head got released from between her legs. She kneeled in front of me and

grabbed my head with her two strong hands. Look deep into my eyes she ordered. Her eyes were big,

shiny, and rolling in a trance, and in her mouth, she was chewing something slowly. I stared into her

face and waited anxiously for what will come next. I didn’t have to wait long, until her arms got

tenderly behind my neck, as she touched and hugged me like a good friend.

She continued chewing slowly and put her big voluptuous lips against my thin lips, then she

transferred the chewed substance into my mouth. It tasted fruity like sweet porridge, not bad nor

bitter, I liked it and ate the paste!

I perceived her treatment as a kind of exciting. She also realized that I was not disinclined to her

actions, and she grabbed me again with her big hands but this time between my legs. My cock was

swollen and excited. She took my balls into her hand and squeezed them; it was hurting. “I can see

and feel my Muthi makes good progress, let me prepare the next potion”, the Sangoma said.

She got back to her straw mat and took the soaked marinated fruits and vegetables. “Now I will cook

them in my cave and my anus for you,” she said with a grin on her face. “They will become very tasty

and spicy. You will love them!”

She slowly took one by one of the fruits and stuffed them into her cave. My god, the cave was big, wet,

and slimy again absorbing pounds of fruits and vegetables. Now she took some dried fruits from her

herbal cupboard and stuffed them slowly into her anus. I counted twelve. It looked to me like she was

having real pleasure in stuffing all the things into her cave and ass. That must have been enough food

for a whole family meal.

“Now I must rest while the food is cooking, and you can assist me to speed up the process. Here is

some massage oil. Give me a full-body massage. Make my body boil, then the food will cook very nice,”

the Sangoma explained.

My God!? I could not believe what was happening right now! The hut was dark like a cinema, and I

realized that she was taking off her leather skins. She exposed a unique African body with big breasts,

and stiff nipples mounted on huge areolas. She was a big, massive woman and between her legs grew

an African bush with some grey branches. Her ass was over dimensionally big and round, and her

dreadlocks made her look like a scary voodoo doll.

She was lying down on a big blanket and said, “Now it is your turn”. I poured the oil on her back and

started to massage her shoulders and spine. “Full body massage I said. Don’t be shy, it is part of my

treatment but only for special customers like you. Massage where the food is cooking,” she

commanded.

She had a beautiful, big, round ass and I massaged it with increasing intensity. While I rubbed her ass,

I became very horny, my cock was getting very stiff, but I didn’t dare to let her feel that since she kept

completely motionless, silent, and relaxed.

Her ass was getting hot, and I thought she was enjoying it even when I tried to put my fingers inside

her anus to see how well cooked the fruits were. I presumed they were coming all right, it looked and

smelled strange! It puzzled me why I was getting sexually aroused since these kinds of women never

appeared in my dreams. It must have had something to do with the Muthi she gave me.

Now I was reaching her big thighs and massaged the oil into the soft and wobbly skin. It felt like I was

living in an erotic comic story. Everything of this woman was over-dimensional, the buttocks were

massive, the drumsticks gigantic, and her cave was huge! Scrolling further down over her firm calves I

reached her feet. Man-sized feet with short toes. The whole body got an oily massage.

Now I turned her around and saw a big pitch-black woman with closed eyes motionless on her back,

looking and smelling like dark peppermint chocolate. I touched her round face with my oily hands.

She was still motionless even when I put my hands around her neck and throat, it felt like she was far

away with her mind.

Her big black tits with stiff nipples were the next target of my full-body massage. For each breast, I

needed both hands to oil them evenly. Her nipples were still hard and standing up, so I decided to take

them into my mouth and massage them with my tongue. The nipples became even stiffer, but her

body and face didn’t move an inch. I got kind of overwhelmed observing this huge black body lying

motionless on the floor. I was not able to do anything to her since she seemed to be spaced out and

guided by her ancestors while cooking my Muthi.

The last part of my full-body massage was going via the belly towards the oven where my medicine

was cooking. I concentrated my work on the bush trying to soften the strong curly hair and

stimulating her clitoris. She kept quiet, but I realized that her body was boiling inside the cave since

some warm water and sticky white cream came out quietly. She was cooking my Muthi and it was

about to get ready.

Suddenly she opened her eyes and looked at me with a smile. “Dinnertime my dear, your Muthi is

ready to be consumed. Bring me the bowel over there, I will start to dish up”.

I was placing the bowel on the straw mat and the Sangoma kneeled over it. “Come here and lie down

on your back where you can see my anus. I will start pressing now. The content of my cave gets into

the bowel and the dried fruits from my intestines directly into your mouth. You must chew them nicely

otherwise you will have a stomachache,” she warned me.

The Sangoma started by snipping her fingers accompanied by a Bantu song with a lot of clicking

sounds. It was weird, scary, and irritating but also somehow an adventure I never experienced before;

I could see how she was trying to press very hard. Her anus was opening and closing until the first

fruit started to appear. I grabbed it with my mouth, pulled it out, and started chewing. It tasted like

spiced dried fruits.

I heard the first vegetables dropping into the bowel. Her singing became louder, and the snipping of

her fingers was followed by loud clapping with the hands. She seemed to work very hard getting the

stuff out of the cookers. The next fruits came out and they were spicier than before. I also worked

hard to take them out of her medicine dispenser, but I didn’t have enough time to chew them properly

anymore.

The singing got louder and the clapping more intense. I counted ten fruits so far. She pressed very

hard; the eleventh fruit was coming. One more to go, I finished all twelve. “Stop pressing” I begged,

“they are all out now,” I assured her.

“Wait, I am not done yet, there is still something in my cave. Put your fingers in my ass otherwise, you

will get a full load from my intestines” she advised me. I quickly plugged my fingers deep inside and

could feel that she was still pressing but the singing and clapping had stopped.

“I am done!” she finally replied “don’t take your fingers out. Behind you should be a wooden anal plug.

Get it and quickly replace your finger with the anal plug. Quick I have immense pressure!”

Luckily, I found the wooden tool behind me and managed to plug it inside before an accident

happened. My fingers were a bit dirty. “Don’t clean your fingers, I need the remains for the Muthi.

Come sit in front of me, we will prepare the meal together,” she suggested.

The bowel was filled with at least three pounds of slimy fruits and vegetables. I saw her cave was still

wide open and dripping. “Now use your hands and start smashing the food until your hands are

clean.” I smashed the food until it became a porridge.

“There is still something missing” she replies “do you see my hairy cave? The entrance was still wide

open. Put your hands inside and collect all the creamy sauce you see and mix it into the porridge,” the

Sangoma commanded.

A few minutes later I was done. “Now lick your fingers clean and tell me how it tastes”. I did so and

answered with a twinkle in my eyes, “You forgot the salt but otherwise it is well spiced”.

“Sorry you are right, I forgot, but no problem I have a solution without spoiling my secret recipe”. She

stood up and urinated into the porridge bowl. “Mix it and try again”.

“Now it is good” I replied. “Okay fine. You can sit over there on the goat hide and I will serve your

dinner”. She took a clay cup, filled it up with her urine and, served me the porridge with her drink. “Eat

all the porridge and just leave a small handful in the bowel. If you need more drink, there is still plenty

inside me. Take your time, there is no hurry. Bon Appetite”

I started eating my porridge, the strangest medicine I ever had. It seemed nutritious and had this

strong feminine taste. After finishing the porridge and leaving a bit like I was told, she served another

drink, but this time straight from the source. “You have to drink as much as possible, the more you

drink, the better the Muthi will work for us.

As a cherry on top, you can open the plug and get some extra strong brown cream. Just put the plug

back when you have enough”, the Sangoma suggests.

“I think I am going to skip the cherry part, but thanks for the offer anyway,” I tried to reply boldly in

the hope not to undermine her authority.

She went back to her place and put the remains of the porridge inside a jar. “Now I explain what you

have to do with this left-over food. Mix that porridge secretly into the food of that bitch of yours. Try to

add just a little bit of your fresh poop to it and mix it with the porridge. After a few days you will see

the results,” she assured me.

“Okay, I will try to do so”, I promised her. “Well, that should do the trick. You have been an incredibly

cooperative client, thanks, but I can see that we have some unfinished business on your side. Your

treatment with me should have a happy ending for both of us,” she suggested.

The Sangoma pushed me back on the floor and pulled down my pants. Her herbal mixture was still

influencing my gentiles. “I will take care of that little guy who is pointing straight at me,” she promised

and took a seat on top of my fully erected cock. She started singing and snapping her fingers while

she moved up and down burying my cock in her huge and wet cave. Her songs became louder and

more intense, and our happy ending came during the third song.

“Now we are finally finished with the first round of treatments. You go home now and do what I told

you…. Another very important thing is that you tell no one about your visit to me and the kind of Muthi

I was giving to you, otherwise it can turn against you and make things even worse. This principle rule

is valid for all Sangomas. Keep that always in your mind! That is a piece of advice and a warning,

especially for you, white people who are entering into the world of our ancestral powers and

foresight” she warned me with caution and a serious expression on her face.

“Please tell me one more secret,” I asked her, “do you give this kind of intensive treatment to all your

clients?”

“No!” she replied with a confirming voice, “everyone gets an individual treatment on the advice from

my ancestors. Your treatment today was very individual and very special. The ancestors hinted to me

that I can try to go to the absolute extreme of the Korobela Muthi with you and I did exactly that.

I have heard from other Sangomas that the Korobela Muthi works better for white people than our

other traditional procedures where we cut wounds to administer the herbs and burn herbs to inhale

the smoke. You have been the first white man I treated, and I have never gone so far with my Korobela

treatment. You are a very special client for me, and I can assure you that you did very well, and it was

also inspiring for me.

That’s why I decided you must only pay me once the Muthi was successful. Come back in about one

week and we will see what we must do next. Bye Bye white man.”

When I got out of the dark Sangoma hut without windows, the sun was hitting me like a lightning

flash. Within a blink of a second, I was back in the real world. On the way home I already developed

ideas about how I could administer the Muthi to my estranged wife Queenie.

**Queenies Rules**

I drove home slowly through the countryside reflecting on how I got into this terrible situation. In the

1980’s I came to South Africa, it was still the time of Apartheid, and I bought a small farm in

Bophuthatswana. We were just a few white Farmers there but during the independence battle and the

rise of the ANC, many white farmers gave up and left the country. I stayed behind in the village

because it became my family home.

When Nelson Mandela came to power, I even married the daughter of a very prominent and

influential African community leader. She was a beautiful, educated, and open-minded African woman.

She moved to my little farm, and we started a family. We were happy, she was a loving and caring

mother and wife.

Over the years when the children were going to boarding school, she was getting bored and didn’t’

know what to do with herself. She slowly changed from that caring wife to a spoilt queen. She became

respectless and demanding and I could not find anything anymore to make her happy. I was busy

working on the farm six days a week and she was staying in the house trying to kill time. An idle mind

is the devil’s playground!

When I came home one evening from work, I realized straight away that she was very angry looking

for a fight. I don’t like arguing, I am more of a quiet person who looks for harmony and peace.

“You bastard cheated on me with the cheap bitch from the groceries store! Don’t deny it, I heard it and

I have proof. How can you be so brazen and disrespectful to me, having an affair with a fat ugly

married mother and then always pretending to me that you are my loving and caring husband?

Even my best friend who found out about your disgusting affair can’t believe that you are doing this to

me and yourself. You are a respected man in this community, and I am a respected woman here, the

daughter of a Chief. I should be treated like a queen and not like a deceived wife of an ugly, pale white

man. I will make you pay for that! You can bet your life on that,” she fumed.

These accusations hit me like a train. I was shocked and couldn’t say a word.

“It is true, isn’t it?” She came straight to me and spat me into the face. “You bastard, I will show you

what we do here in Africa to devious men like you.” She slapped me multiple times in the face with all

her strength, screaming and spitting like an angry dragon.

“My dear it is not like you think it is, don’t believe everything you hear” I stumbled in reply. “Let us sit

down and speak about it in a civilized manner, please”, I begged.

“You want to tell me I am not civilized, you are running around like a salacious dog, jumping on any

twerking ass. When the community finds out, you will be a dead man, and no one will care about you,”

she continued yelling.

“Yes, I guess I know which person you are talking about, but it is not like you think it is. You know I am

a humble man and I like to make some small talk, that is all,” I tried to defend myself.

“Small talk? I make some big small talk for you right now. You are no more my husband; you are

demoted to my house servant. Do you understand?! If you won’t comply you will leave this miserable

small farm like a scabby old dog. Do you get me?!”

I was lost and remembered the saying ‘What comes around goes around. My time as the head of the

family was gone. I nodded in devotion, knowing I had no other choice right now.

“Bring me some food from the kitchen right now and serve it for me. From now on I will sit on that big

armchair of yours and you take the wooden stool in the corner. Hurry up I am hungry,” she yelled.

I went to the kitchen and prepared some food. I was devastated and didn’t know yet how to get out of

this misery.

I served her some food on a tray. “You have to improve your cooking skills; this food is dry and

tasteless. Bring me some wine, a Shiraz, no stop the occasion calls for a ‘Royal Nymphomane 1993 La

Vierge’. You know where to find it. You can get yourself a glass of water”.

I went to the storeroom and looked for the bottle of wine. Glass of water, no way! I poured myself a

big glass of Vodka to soothe the pain and frustrations.

She drank her wine showing the delight and pleasure she had at her new rule as the Grand Queen of

the house. I drank the vodka and felt the numbing effect of the alcohol.

“The wine is finished. Bring me a new one. The Shiraz will do now. You can have another glass of

water,” Queenie ordered. The evening continued like this for about an hour until the queen herself got

visibly drunk.

“So, my dirty rotten dog, come here. Dogs have sharp noses, especially white dogs like you. Do you

see my pussy? I will mark this place for me now. Come here and put your face into my pussy and drink

all the wine I have digested. It looks like a Sauvignon Blanc, just a little bit shale. Don’t spill anything,”

Queenie commanded with an increasing lust to humiliate me.

She sat enthroned on the big armchair, and I kneeled in front of her. She started to piss on me slowly

and became louder in talking. “Yes, my dog, this is nice. Isn’t it? You will drink this digested wine now

every day and don’t spill anything you stupid dog,” she yelled at me and slapped my face. “You deserve

every drop of it, that is your dog food hahahah, come on there is some more, and don’t spoil

anything. In the morning you will have the Late Harvest, hahahahaha.”

She had a lot of piss and even more vulgar words for me. “So now show me how you lick the ass of

that fat bitch you stupid stooge.” She turned around and showed me her anus. “Lick it fast and

intense, give your best otherwise I will shit in your face, and you have to clean and eat up the mess.”

‘Ohh my god please not’ I prayed to myself. She stinks terribly when she is on the toilet. I thought

differently when I was still in love with her but now that is a horrible punishment for me. Now it is a

disgusting prospect! So, I licked her ass with utmost vigor and pretended to have a passion for her

private parts, but that time was long gone.

“Come on dog, you can do better” she shouted at me starting to move her ass like crazy against my

mouth. I could see she enjoyed being in charge of me. Her pussy and anus started to get wet, and the

liquid was dropping out of both holes.

“Come on work harder, I want to climax. If you can’t make me come, I will shit in your face. Come on

put your tongue deep inside my poophole,” she threatened me.

I worked very hard fearing she would make her threats come true. I licked her like mad and could

hardly breathe. Now she even started to fart, it smelled like hell, but I continued. Now came another

fart, slightly wet. I licked and licked faster and more intensely since I could somehow anticipate that

she was just about to get an orgasm.

Then it finally happened; she reached a climax. Her body was shaking with convulsions. Not only

Queenie was relieved! I still kneeled in front of her and panted like an exhausted dog.

“Well done you dirty dog. Let us see if you can do as well next night. Today you have been a good dog,”

she said scornfully and padded my head. “Now bring me some more wine otherwise I have not

enough late harvest for your breakfast drink. You must be ready and strong for work tomorrow. You

must bring more money home; I need more money from you!”

“Now let us go to sleep. I show you your resting place”. We went to the bedroom, and she gave me a

dog collar, one of these new ones with an electric remote-control closure. “Put it around your neck and

fasten these handcuffs to the loop of the chain. I will lock you now to this sturdy bedpost; I don’t want

you to leave your rightful place. You will sleep on this old blanket in front of the bed. But wait, first I

have to put my mark on the blanket.”

She started again to piss and spit all over the blanket and she used her feet to spread the liquids

evenly. “Now comes the cherry on top,” she proclaimed and produced some poop she extracted from

her asshole with her finger. She smeared the ‘cherry’ on my dirty blanket. “Good night dog, sweet

dreams,” Queenie whispered and fell asleep.

I could hardly sleep this night and wondered how the hell I could fall so unprepared and so suddenly

into such a deep hole. How could she have possibly found out about my secret affair? I had no clues

since my meetings with Kamari were kept very secret I believed.

At six in the morning, we woke up as usual but this time it was me on the hard smelly floor and she

was in the warm and comfortable King size bed. “Go to the kitchen and prepare me some breakfast,

quick you lazy bastard. I want baked beans, beacons, eggs, and toast with coffee. You can eat the

leftovers from last night,” she ordered and operated the remote control at the other side of the bed

where I used to sleep and released my collar.

I came back from the kitchen with the freshly prepared English Breakfast and my bowel with dry

mealiepap and cabbage from yesterday. After she finished her meal licking her fingers clean, she

asked. “Give me your glass for the Late Harvest wine. You deserve a stimulating drink now.”

She filled up the glass with delightful pleasure and handed it to me. “Cheers enjoy it, I still have a few

more refills.” I drank the glass, it tasted like horrible strong piss, salty and shale. “Hurry up I still have

pressure there is plenty more Late Harvest for you before you go to work.” I had to consume three and

a half glasses of disgusting dark yellow urine and felt like puking, but I restrained myself.

“So, my dear” Queenie replied, “never mix your private life with your work and our social life here in

the community. Once we get out of the house, we will continue as before. You go to work and make

money, and on the weekend, we will go to all our social engagements as before. We will go to church

on Sunday and sit as usual in the first row. In public, we will pretend as if we are a happily married

couple. Do you get it? Now get dressed and go to work, I need more money, I am a Queen who

deserves more luxury!”

As hard as it sounded, we did exactly this, no one should and could realize that something was not

right between us. I went to work every morning managing the farm and the people still called me the

baas (Boss). In town, they still addressed me with ‘Ntate’ or ‘Morena’ meaning father or chief. My

estranged wife still pretended to be my loving and supporting wife, in restaurants we still ate together

with friends and family and seemed to be as united and happy as ever. This situation was slowly

grinding me down, but I kept in there because I still didn’t have a choice.

Back at home, I was facing the same misery as described, and it was getting worse by the day. My

wicked wife seemed to enjoy her new role as the absolute ruler and Queen of the house and became

more and more innovative and devious in the ways she denounced and punished me……

​

……to be continued in Part 2

The post A White Man Haunted by Evil Spirits Part 1 – My dramatized true story as a white man in rural Africa involving blackmail, witchcraft, and extreme sexual experiences appeared first on Hot Indian Sex Stories | Hindi Sex Stories.