Her Immigration Is Going Badly
In African Agony by John “JJ” Argus, Sarah has arrived rather informally via rubber boat on an African shore and her informal immigration interview isn’t going very well for her:
Umbwatha stepped over to her, glowering, then looked down at her breasts. He prodded one with his stick, then slipped the stick beneath, lifting the breast up slightly.
“You are very well constructed,” he observed. “You wear little clothing. You are of poor morals. All English girls are, and you come to seduce my soldiers.”
“N-N-No,” she gulped.
“I think yes.”
“Please, w-we just… our boat just…”
He spoke to one of the other men, who hurried behind her, then gripped her long hair and yanked back hard. Sara screamed, her scalp stinging like a thousand small pins were being jammed into it. She did not even see Umbwatha take a half step back and then bring his arm down heavily, the stick slicing down onto her taut right breast.
She felt the impact, which was light, then the stinging pain a moment later. She screamed again.
“Stop! Please! No! Please don’t hurt me!” she shrieked.
Umbwatha’s eyes heated and he swung the stick again, cracking it down on the girl’s left breast. He watched the soft flesh jiggle under the impact, and a thin red line appearing as he drew his arm back.
“You must speak respectfully to me,” Umbwatha said, slashing the stick across her right breast again.
“We do not like your whoring ways here in Shankali. We punish those who violate our borders.”
The stick whipped down again, snapping like an adder, cutting across Sara’s soft breasts repeatedly as she sobbed piteously and begged him to stop.
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