My Sexy Books Corner – Yet to be published

Nuru And His Crows

Meeting Nuru

Wish I was back in Tunbridge Wells, thought Cara. I never should’ve agreed to come to Africa with Declan while he’s directing his next block-buster.

Her sleeveless blouse was stuck to her back with sweat as she walked with Declan along the narrow dirt path between the exotic trees. The O’Gradys were staying in a comfortable enough hotel in a more populated part of the Congo Basin, but it was not as luxurious as the hotels they were used to.

Before the shooting of the film was scheduled to begin, Declan needed to explore the less populated areas to find suitable locations for specific scenes. There wouldn’t be enough time when shooting began in two weeks. This is why the couple found themselves trudging through the undergrowth with sweat pouring off them.

Everything about the trip was a challenge for Cara. The statuesque blonde beauty was used to the comforts of life since marrying Declan, a brilliant, highly successful, world-acclaimed film director. Roughing it in the Congo Basin wasn’t Cara’s style. She yearned for the comforts and opulence of their multimillion-pound home in Tunbridge Wells in Kent, particularly its large pool and hot tub.

Cara had been a famous twenty-two-year-old catwalk model when Declan met her in Milan in 1993. They married two years later. Trudging through the jungle covered in insect bites wasn’t how she’d planned to celebrate their fifteenth wedding anniversary. A meal at the Ivy would have been more her style. She was also irked to be hitting forty the next year.

She was used to being admired and had come to expect men’s gaze to follow wherever she went. Declan was never jealous when men showed an interest in his wife’s body. He even encouraged it, as long as he could watch.

The humidity was playing havoc with her thick blonde hair and had begun to rot her expensive clothes. She hadn’t packed wisely for the climate. It had rained every day despite the stifling heat. Declan, who had always doted on her, told her she still looked beautiful despite the ravages of the climate, but she didn’t believe him.

Declan pointed to a wooden ramshackle house set back from the muddy path. ‘Oh, look. Here’s the house my PA told me I should visit. Sandy said it might add some extra colour to the film. She said a fortune-teller called Nuru lives here. You know how I’ve always wanted to have my fortune told, and it’ll keep us out of this rain for a while. Fancy it?’

‘Fancy it? Fancy it?’ squawked a massive one-legged crow tethered to a wooden perch outside the rundown property.

Cara squealed and hid behind Declan.

‘Quiet, Bobo, or I’ll remove your other leg!’ boomed a deep voice from inside the house.

Irritated that Declan was videoing the creature and seemed intent on dragging her where she didn’t want to go, she said, ‘That bloody bird frightened the life out of me. If that was Nuru shouting, I don’t want to meet him. Don’t go so near to that mangy bird. You might pick up some nasty disease.’

‘You’re such a hypochondriac,’ said her husband. ‘I wonder what breed of bird it is? It’s so much larger than a normal crow.’

‘Yuck!’ she said, backing away from the bird as it stared at her. ‘Never knew crows had such long tongues. He seems mighty proud of his. Don’t like the way he’s waggling it at me.’

Declan shrugged. ‘Must be some freak of nature, judging by the size of its beak. I’d love to use it in the film if the owner will let me. Come on. Let’s go in.’

‘Must we?’ she said, peering through the hole in the wall that served as a window.

Declan nodded. ‘This house looks weird enough to add more local colour to the film. I really must go inside.’

Cara pulled a face. ‘Do you think it’s safe? It looks so creepy in there. I can see some weird half-naked medicine man in there. Maddest hair ever.’

‘Look,’ said Declan. ‘A young African woman’s sitting in front of him. Wonder why her knees are wide apart. Shush… Listen… Sounds like she’s having an orgasm or something. Wish she didn’t have her back to us so I could see why she’s moaning.’

‘I bet you do, you dirty sod,’ said Cara, who was prone to jealousy. Even with her back to them, she guessed the woman was beautiful, with waist-length hair and a small waist. ‘Let’s get out of here.’

‘I can hear what you’re saying, you know,’ said the booming voice.

Nuru looked about fifty and sat crosslegged on the floor in a revealing loincloth studded in cowrie shells. His long salt-and-pepper corkscrew hair stuck out wildly at all angles, topped with a headdress made of black feathers and cowrie shells. A bird’s leg, complete with talons, hung from a beaded chain around his neck. ‘Enter. Davu’s almost finished treating Saamiva and I told her fortune before he started.’

‘Oh, sorry,’ said Cara, following Declan into the half-darkness. ‘I didn’t realise you spoke English.’

‘I speak five languages,’ said Nuru in a French accent. ‘Cover yourself, Saamiva. I have guests.’

The beautiful large-breasted African woman looked embarrassed, obviously wishing Cara and Declan would wait outside, but Nuru wasn’t concerned her privacy was being invaded. Saamiva anxiously pulled her vibrant traditional African skirt over her ebony knees and sat panting on one of several low stools arranged in a semi-circle in front of the fortune teller. Strange slurping noises were coming from under her skirts.

To Cara and Declan’s surprise, another crow even larger than the disabled one squawking on the perch outside emerged from beneath the woman’s long skirts and flew onto Nuru’s shoulder. It whispered in his ear before flying onto a perch behind the terrifying medicine man.

Her future can’t be looking too rosy judging by how upset she looks, thought Cara. I could’ve sworn the bird said, ‘The whore’s as clean as a whistle, master.’ No. It makes no sense. She must’ve spilt her drink or something. There’s a wet patch in front of where she was sitting.

Small vertebrae bones were scattered across the dirt floor. Sensing she was being dismissed by the well-respected host, Saamiva wiped her eyes on her arm, clambered to her feet and staggered out of the dwelling. Nuru scooped up the bones and placed them in a drawstring bag which he put inside a large box covered in cowrie shells. The couple sat on low wooden stools feeling awkward, uncomfortable and scared. Dead, stuffed wild animals gazed down at them from the walls. Mystical artefacts and many jars containing herbs, dried exotic flowers, and pickled small animals were crowded onto the wooden shelves.

Worried the crow might fly up her short, black denim skirt, Cara tried to keep her thighs firmly closed. It stared at her as though reading her mind. She squealed when it dropped from its perch onto the floor and high-stepped over to her feet, cawing excitedly. As though her feet had a mind of their own, she found herself planting them wide apart, giving a clear view of the crotch of her thong. Declan gave her a quizzical look, but nothing she did could restore her modesty.

Cara was frozen with terror, unable to scream at the bird to leave her alone. The crow hopped between her knees, squawking, ‘Pretty lady! Pretty lady.’ The motionless man sat, arms folded as his pet did the unthinkable. She yelped when Davu pulled out a few curly strands of her copious golden pubic hair curling around the edge of her scanty thong. When she tried to shout obscenities at the man and his pet, no words came.

Seeing that Declan looked like wanted to punch the bird in the head, Nuru said something to it in a language they didn’t understand. Leaving a black feather on the floor next to her, it flew back to its perch and placed the pubic hair in a dish attached to it. Cara was relieved to be able to close her legs again.

‘Are you okay, darling?’ said Declan.

She wanted to say she wasn’t but found herself nodding and even smiling. Whatever had taken over her legs was still controlling her will.

‘Take the feather,’ said the fortune teller. ‘It’s Davu’s special gift to you because he likes you. Keep it safe and it’ll bring you good fortune. Never lose it.’

Feeling like she’d been violated by the crow, Cara didn’t dare refuse, too scared to ask why she mustn’t lose it. Slipping the feather into her designer shoulder bag, she muttered her gratitude, despite not wanting a feather in it. She shot Declan a what’ve-you-got-me-into look.

There was a curtained-off room behind Nuru where they guessed he lived. Delicious cooking aromas filled their nostrils. Hearing the clatter of pans, they assumed his wife must be cooking lunch. We hopefully won’t have to stay in this shithole for much longer if this freak’s going to be eating soon, thought Cara. Nuru glared at her, as though he’d read her mind.

She was in awe of the fortune teller’s otherworldly aura. His dark eyes pierced her soul as though reading her life story without her having to say a word. Spooked, Cara was desperate to leave but a malevolent force anchored her to the spot.

‘How much is it for you to tell our fortunes?’ said Declan, taking out his wallet.

‘Twenty thousand francs each,’ said the unsmiling man.

‘That’s less than a tenner each,’ Declan whispered to her, taking two notes from his wallet.

Before Declan could hand them over, to his surprise, the crow swooped down from its perch and snatched them. Nuru opened the box so the crow could place the money inside. Cara looked warily at Davu, hoping her thighs wouldn’t open, but he flew back to its perch without further incident.

Nuru took his drawstring bag of animal vertebrae out of the box and turned to Declan. ‘I’ll read your fortune first. Give me your hands.’

Declan leaned forward and placed his hands into Nuru’s. The strange man closed his dark eyes and tilted his head back, breathing deeply. The clattering in the kitchen stopped, as though whoever was in there sensed he was communing with another world and mustn’t be distracted. Strange, indecipherable words fell from his thick, blood-red lips.

Opening his eyes, he picked up the bag of bones and scattered them across the floor. He stared at them, stroking his chin, deep in thought. The tension crackled like electricity in the room. The couple looked at each other, wondering when he’d speak, concerned how serious he was.

They jumped when he said, ‘Interesting… I can see that you shared your wife with a tall, handsome, well-endowed man within the last two weeks. Am I right?’

Their mouths dropped open, horrified that the creepy African somehow knew about the steamy threesome they’d had with Jeff the night before their trip to Africa. Jeff Klein was a thirty-year-old garage mechanic and one of the men Declan liked to watch having sex with Cara inside their Tunbridge Wells bedroom.

Nuru chuckled. ‘Your faces tell me I’m right. Good for you. Boundaries and barriers are made to be broken, especially those between worlds. I always speak honestly about what I see in the past, present or future, good or bad. I could say much more about your unconventional pasts, but time is short. I have another woman visiting me in half an hour. Do you wish to hear what I see in your futures? Some people don’t want honesty, but lies are for fools.’

Declan looked at Cara for guidance, worried about what they might hear. After witnessing how accurate he’d been about their threesome, they were in awe of his special powers.

‘Let’s get back to the future,’ said Nuru. ‘To sum it up, you should make the most of your time together. A great sadness will befall you before two years have passed.’

The married couple looked at each other with a wish-we’d-never-asked expression on their faces. They waited for him to expand on his doom-laden statement but he remained silent.

‘What great sadness? What’s going to happen?’ said Declan, clasping Cara’s hand.

Nuru sighed. ‘I can’t give you details. The bones won’t allow it. Look for signs nearer the time.’

‘Do the bones ever let you tell details?’ said Cara. ‘Would they allow it if we pay you more money? We need to know what you’ve seen in the bones.’

Nuru shook his head. ‘More money will make no difference, but I sense it will be a health problem.’

‘This is why I avoid fortune tellers,’ Cara muttered to Declan.

‘Let’s move on to your wife,’ said Nuru, looking at her and licking his lips as though she was his favourite snack.

Cara whispered, ‘Let’s go, Declan. This was a terrible idea.’

Before he could reply, the fortune teller scooped up the bones and scattered them across the floor. His reaction to what they told him was different from his response to Declan’s forecast. Nuru stood up, then crouched down, pouring over the bones, grunting and muttering with growing excitement.

‘Oh… I’ve only seen the bones fall like this once before about two months ago when I read them for Elke, a beautiful young German. I love to visit her in her dreams.’ He smiled wistfully, remembering his last visit. Snapping out of his reverie, he said to Cara, ‘You look a lot like her. I have only one piece of advice to give you. Never cut your hair. If you do, you’ll become a magnet for any predatory men or females you meet. You will be unable to object to becoming their plaything. Elke deeply regrets ignoring my advice and cutting her hair.’

‘Silly Elke,’ squawked the crow as the pans began to clatter again behind the beaded curtain.

‘I’ve heard enough of this bullshit,’ muttered Cara in Declan’s ear. She stood up and headed for the exit.

‘Sorry for my wife’s outburst, but what you said has upset her,’ said Declan, standing up to follow his wife.

‘So it should with futures like yours,’ muttered Nuru, chuckling as the couple disappeared. ‘Can’t wait to visit you in your dreams, sexy Cara.’

‘Sexy Cara. Sexy Cara,’ squawked the crow, its beady eyes trained on the fleeing couple’s backs.

Once they’d gone, Nuru tipped the strands of pubic hairs out of Davu’s dish into a jar. ‘I’ll make the spell after lunch,’ he said to the crow, who squawked his approval. ‘Looking up Cara’s skirt has made me horny.’

‘Me, too, master,’ said Davu.

‘Wish I could have seen up there, too,’ squawked Bobo from his perch.

‘Your turn will come,’ said Nuru, walking through the beaded curtain into his backroom. ‘Now it’s time for some fun, Elke, you German sexpot.’

He grinned as he patted and stroked the buttocks of the naked, shaven-headed young woman with the sad face as she stood in front of the antiquated cooker, stirring a pot of crow stew for their supper.


‘Never mind the food, Elke. I’m horny,’ said Nuru, turning her around to face him.

Sex with the man who controlled her was the last thing the bald film star wanted, but she found herself saying, ‘Yes, master. Whatever you say is fine by me.’ Refusing any request from a man had been impossible for her for over two months, ever since the girl at the film studio shaved Elke’s hair off.

He tugged her nipples between his teeth, making her wince. Placing his hand between her thighs, he fingered her, whispering, ‘So wet, but I want it to drip off you. Bend your knees more… Ah, yes… Perfect. Seeing the British woman’s past and future has made me hard. Rid me of this before we eat.’ He pulled up his loincloth with pride. ‘Give it a good sucking as an appetiser.’

Elke glanced down at his erection, sighed, and obediently removed the saucepan from the stove. Kneeling on the dirt floor, she opened her mouth, gagging as he pushed his stiff shaft down her throat.

‘Stop sucking. I want to save my seed for this,’ he said, sliding two fingers into her vagina. He jabbed hard and fast until she came on them then licked them clean. ‘Hurry to the bedroom while I fetch Bobo and Davu so they can watch me fuck you. Your landlord back in Germany is scheduled to fuck you later tonight, isn’t he?’

‘Yes, master,’ she said, walking into the gloomy, basic bedroom and lying on the large but ricketty bed.

‘I’ll try not to use up all your energy, but I can’t promise it won’t happen,’ he said, placing the two crows on either side of her so they could nibble the tips of her large nipples before hopping down between her legs.

‘Show us your pussy so we can check it’s wet enough for our master and has no stranger’s semen in it,’ squawked Davu, hopping around on his single leg.

Elke cringed with embarrassment as always occured whenever Nuru forced her to spread her legs wide so his birds could examine her. I’ll never find this normal, no matter how many times it happens, she thought. They’re more human than bird. Bobbo’s beak opened wide inside her vagina, stretching it for Davu to stare in and check the interior walls. It was like being examined by her gynaecologist, except the crows used their beaks instead of a speculum.

She wished they would let her stretch her vagina herself so they could perform their examination and cleansing ritual with their tongues, but they never did. These evil birds love controlling me, she thought, wincing as Davu’s tickly tongue licked around inside her. They must’ve been perverted sexual sadists when they were men. Nuru gets a kick out of letting them do what they like with me and his other women.

The first time they’d try to perform such a shocking examination, she’d screamed with fear and slammed her legs shut. Nuru had scolded her and tied her, spreadeagled to the bed. ‘Quiet! My neighbours don’t want to hear your caterwauling. My crows are only checking there’s no semen inside you. I don’t want sloppy seconds when I lick you.’

She’d trembled from head to toe as Bobo’s beak slid inside her vagina and stretched its entrance wide. She stared, frozen with fear, as Davu hopped closer and peered inside.

‘No semen, master, but deliciously wet,’ he squawked. ‘Elke’s more than ready for you.’

‘Please… let me stretch myself so you can check, master. Not the crows. It creeps me out when they do it. I have a phobia of birds,’ she’d said.

Full of indignation, Bobo had looked from her vagina to her face before gripping her clitoral hood so hard with his beak that she shrieked to be released. As she’d lain, sore and sobbing on her back, unable to close her legs, Davu had said, ‘We do this to all master’s women before he enjoys them.’

Most of all, Elke hated the crows’ tongues. Never having seen a crow’s tongue before, she was surprised by their length and how cold and tickly they felt when they opened their beaks to stretch her vagina or to lick her nipples and vulva.

‘Pop it out for us to lick, Elke,’ said Bobo.

Knowing exactly what he meant and wishing she didn’t, Elke slid back her large clitoral hood so they could lick her clitoris. When Bobo accidentally nipped the hood with his thick beak, she cried out and slammed her thighs together, making the birds fly up in the air, then settle down at the end of the bed.

‘We’ll bite your nipples off if you don’t open your legs again,’ said Davu.

Slowly masturbating as he stood naked by her bed, Nuru looked down at her. ‘As I told you the first time I transported you here, Bobo and Davu will sulk if they don’t each give you an orgasm with their tongues before I fuck you. You should be grateful for how skilled they are at it. Watching you come always makes me hard.’

Dying inside, Elke spread her legs and displayed her clitoris to them. Davu strutted and Bobo hopped along the bed and settled back between her long limbs, taking turns to furiously lick her hard, glistening nub. Elke strongly suspected Nuru’s magical powers were being used whenever they licked. The creepy birds never failed to give her a full-body orgasm with just their tongues. The exquisite vibrations whenever they licked were more effective than any vibrator she’d ever owned. That day was no exception.

As she recovered from another string of earth-shattering orgasms, Elke passed her hand over her sweating shaved head where thick, blonde hair had once grown. Now she was Nuru’s plaything for part of her life, he insisted on shaving her head and labia so she’d remain under his control and that of the two crows and any other predatory males who crawled out of the woodwork. And there’d been plenty of those. Nuru had somehow seen to that, even when he was on another continent. The power of his magic seemed to know no bounds.

‘Use this on your clit while the crows rest,’ said Nuru, handing Elke a golden vibrator. ‘Bobo stole it from a hotel bedroom this morning… Press it hard until you come… Good… Press harder… Come for me, Elke.’

‘And for us,’ said Bobo and Davu in unison.

The crows behaved so lustfully towards her, Elke believed they must’ve once been rampant human males and had been transformed into crows by Nuru, possibly for some serious crime. Their eyes seemed deeply intelligent, more human than bird.

Her African master rubbed the end of his manhood against her tumescent clitoris before pushing deep inside her to puff and pant on top of her. Elke’s biggest regret in life was not heeding his earlier advice and shaving off her hair for the blockbuster film she was to star in.

As soon as her golden locks lay on the floor, she’d regretted it. Two black feathers had floated down out of thin air into her lap, shocking her and the girl at the film studio who’d shaved it off. Although Elke was still living her normal life in Germany, Nuru had stolen part of her soul that night, claiming her as his unwilling slave for as long as she held his interest.

It was bad enough cooking and cleaning for him, but having him or German sex fiends inside her whenever they dictated was rapidly destroying her mind. Whenever he climaxed and was done with her and the crows had sucked his semen out of her, she’d find herself back in Germany where other men would be waiting to use and abuse her, barely aware she’d even disappeared.

Since having her hair shaved off, random men of all ages and different levels of attractiveness had cropped up in her life expecting to have sex with her. Nuru had warned her when she’d come to have her fortune told that she’d be a man-magnet if she ever cut her hair. At the time, she hadn’t believed him. The ruination of her life was the price she paid.

Collapsing, gasping, onto her full breasts, Nuru found enough breath to say, ‘That was a strong eight. One day, your sexual performance will be a ten if you fully apply the skills I’m teaching you and not hold back so much. You may now return to your life in Frankfurt with my blessing. I’ll whisk you back here in a week or two, so look out for my black feather signal. Remember, don’t let the other men you serve in Germany mark or disfigure you. You’d be no use to me if they do. A woman’s beauty is my greatest aphrodisiac. They won’t ever tire you out so much that you’re useless to me. I’ve ensured your sexual energy will be boundless as part of my spell.’

‘Yes, master,’ she muttered, wondering how she would pay the bills as she was being ravished most days and nights with little time to sleep, let alone earn a wage.

The room was suddenly filled with a blinding blue light, just as had happened when she’d been instantly transported to Africa. Elke found herself still naked on her bed inside her flat in Frankfurt.

She lay on her bed to compose her thoughts which were scattered and in turmoil. It wouldn’t be long before her old landlord came ringing her doorbell, eager for sex. Out of the corner of her eye, she thought she saw a black feather flutter to the ground but realised it was just another hallucination. Her dread of seeing black feathers summoning her back to Africa and Nuru tormented every moment, even while sleeping.

Her mind was unravelling more as time went on and as more predatory males entered her life as the fortune teller had predicted. Elke now knew Nuru hadn’t foretold her fate but had made it happen by putting a cruel curse on her.

Lying in a bubble bath to wash Nuru’s semen and smell from her body, she cried a little before dragging herself out of the water. Once dry, she put on the new black satin crotchless peephole corset Everitt Schulze, her landlord, had given her on his last visit. Three weeks previously, the short, obese, balding forty-eight-year-old computer nerd had agreed to let her live in the flat rent-free, so long as she opened her legs for him every Thursday evening.

At the time, it seemed like a good idea because she was desperate for money. He was so unattractive, Elke wanted to end the arrangement on the first meeting. Bizarrely, every time she tried to say no to his sexual advances that Thursday evening, or broach the subject of him leaving her alone in future, the words stuck in her throat, refusing to come out. It was as though Nuru had inserted an invisible mute button inside her. She even tried to text her landlord while he was there to ask him to leave her flat immediately and stay away, but the words didn’t appear on the screen. Writing on paper with a biro, then a pencil, had the same bizarre result. Everitt stared at her as though she was mad as she tried to communicate her wishes.

It wasn’t only her words that were being stolen. Her body was rebelling, too. Whenever she tried to close her legs or lash out at Everitt to block his advances, nothing happened. It was as though Nuru was in her head, magically destroying all her negative responses to any sexual advances or acts from anyone. Her body had become the sex machine of Nuru and any other man who asked her for sex. She was powerless to revert to her former self.

Everitt was delighted with her apparent willingness to let him do whatever he wanted with her body, especially as women usually rejected him. He was perplexed by the angry, disgusted look in her eyes as he ran through his often perverted sexual repertoire. She even allowed him to video every outrageous act, which was a first for him.

In desperation, Elke had gone to the police station to report the rapes, which is what she considered them to be, despite never telling Everitt she wanted to withhold her consent. Sitting in the interview room, she went crazy with frustration and embarrassment when her words wouldn’t come out while trying to make her statement. The policeman taking her statement looked at her as though she was insane as she sat making strange guttural noises, trying to force out the words.

Fearing they might charge her with wasting police time, she’d returned to her flat in tears, only to find Everitt had let himself into her flat with a tall, painfully thin, grey-haired stranger with a face like a death mask. They’d been drunk and had already tied tethers to her bedposts in readiness.

‘But, it’s not Thursday,’ she’d wailed as they’d stripped her naked, then themselves.

Everitt had shrugged. ‘So? I showed my drinking buddy, Jakob Fischer, your videos and he’s desperate to fuck you.’

‘Especially your gorgeous arse,’ the man had said, pulling her closer and swivelling her around.

Knowing from experience that his glamorous lodger never refused his requests, however extreme, although clueless what made her do it, Everitt had said, ‘Bend over and touch your toes for my mate, sexy.’

Jakob had whispered in his ear, ‘She’ll never agree to that.’

‘Want to bet?’ his friend had replied, grinning.

Elke had choked trying in vain to scream, yet she’d bent over so the stranger could insert his middle finger into her rectum and wiggle it. ‘There are a few things I want to do before I fuck it, though. I saw you gush on a few of the videos. I’ve always wanted to make a woman do that.’

Everitt had buzzed a vibrator on her nipples as he’d filmed his friend finger the once-famous film star’s vagina so hard, she’d soon groaned and showered her ejaculate up the rapturous man’s arm. ‘Jakob tells me he loves anal sex. So, first, lie on your back and roll backwards so we can tie your ankles to the top of the bed.’

It was while creepy Jakob had been jabbing his tongue deep into her rectum that Elke had been almost relieved to see a black feather land on her pillow. As soon as she’d seen it, there’d been a flash of blue light and she’d found herself naked on Nuru’s bed in Africa, her ankles behind her ears, just as she’d been in her bedroom.

It had been during that traumatic day and night with the African witch doctor that Declan and Cara had shown up. Elke had heard Nuru cast his spell on them and knew that Cara ran the risk of living the kind of life Elke had condemned herself to if she ever cut her hair.

The German beauty couldn’t worry about Cara with so many problems of her own, problems like the landlord who was due to arrive again in the next half hour. She poured herself a large vodka in the hope it’d loosen her up enough not to be too repulsed by his advances.

When she stared at her perfect reflection in her mirror to apply the tarty makeup Everitt insisted she wear, Elke expected to see her long blonde hair. It still came as a shock to see her bald scalp. Reaching for the blonde wig Everitt had given her, she attached it securely to her scalp as he’d requested.

He’d been angry with her the previous Thursday when it had fallen off while he’d been pounding her insides on her bedroom carpet. Her punishment had been to be spanked with his podgy hands and her large plastic shoehorn as she’d laid whimpering over his dimpled knees, an activity he’d enjoyed more than she’d done. Elke sensed that Everitt was beginning to suspect that she couldn’t prevent him from doing whatever he fancied with her, although he could have no clue why she couldn’t resist his demands.

Elke’s flat was on the ground floor of the well-maintained building. Through her bedroom window, she heard a group of men chuckling as they walked to the main entrance of the building. There was a loud knock on her front door. After putting on her five-inch stilettos and checking her reflection in her full-length mirror to ensure her nipples were erect enough for Everitt’s liking, she walked despondently to her front door and peered through the spyhole.

Expecting to see Everitt, she was shocked to see not only him but also two seedy men in their early sixties. The taller bespectacled man carried a bottle of cheap wine and the shorter, scrawnier Asian man held a holdall. There was only one good thing about her situation; Jakob wasn’t with them.

She’d seen the two strangers twice before when she’d gone for a drink in her local Biergarten. Starstruck, the men had approached her and her handsome date and asked for her autograph. The men looked uncouth, ignorant, and unwashed, so she’d turned away and carried on talking to her date. She normally wouldn’t have remembered them but the Asian had made lewd remarks to her as he and the tall German left the Biergarten

Panicking, Elke hastily put on her silky dressing gown over her almost naked body and opened the door a crack. ‘What do you want, Everitt? Why are these two jokers with you?’ she whispered.

‘What do you think we want, love?’ said the small, hook-nosed Asian.

She tried to slam the door in their faces but found herself opening it wide for them, although her expression looked far from welcoming.

Everitt led the men through to her bedroom where they put down what they’d been carrying and looked her up and down appreciatively. ‘Elke, this four-eyed beanpole is Finn and this short-arse is Abdul. Take off that robe so we can admire the peephole corset I bought you.’

She watched the trio take off their jackets and sit on her bed. Though it was the last thing she wanted to do, her body began acting on autopilot. It was a feeling she still hadn’t grown used to. Since losing her hair, her body always acted independently of her wishes whenever she was with Nuru, Everitt or any other man.

Battling against the force within her that was trying to make her remove the robe entirely, she managed to just lower it off her shoulders. Looking down, she saw her nipples were poking through her corset. They were permanently erect and ultrasensitive ever since the crows had worked on them. Her clitoris and vaginal muscles had also been optimised by them.

‘Mmm. Ich liebe deine grossen titten,’ said Everitt, grinning and licking his fleshy lips. ‘Now show my friends your bottom half. Give me your robe.’

Her hands automatically released their grip on the material so it slipped to the ground, leaving her standing almost naked in front of the three drooling men. Her hands felt glued to her sides as she tried and failed to use them to shield her exposed nipples and shaved labia from their gaze.

All her attempts to run to the living room, turn away from them or bend down to hide her exposed parts were useless. The more she struggled, the closer her breasts thrust at their faces. When her legs rebelled against her and parted, her knees bent and her hips suggestively rocked backwards and forwards, she thought it would be safer to stop struggling.

‘That’s the hottest thing I’ve ever seen,’ said Finn, who’d not had sex for over fifteen years due to his creepy appearance and awkward manner.

Everitt muttered to the men, ‘See what I mean? Her hood thingy pokes out below her pussy lips, just like I said it did. Elke Kraus, the famous star of so many blockbuster films, part your legs and show us your vagina.’

She glared at him as she battled to stop her legs flying open. With a superhuman effort, she managed to limit the gap between her thighs to only a couple of inches, but the effort to maintain a vestige of modesty made her pant and swear under her breath. The men’s faces were so close to her slightly parted, hairless labia, she felt their breath on her wet vulva. Only fear of prosecution stopped them from touching, tasting and probing.

‘Never thought I’d see such a sexy celebrity’s pussy gyrating only inches from me,’ said Abdul. ‘Look at those huge, chocolate-coloured nipples. She must’ve been playing with them for them to be sticking out like that.’

‘When I’m fucking you, Elke’ said Everitt, ‘I often wonder how many wealthy film bosses have spunked all over these beauties. I bet casting couch shenanigans still goes on.’

Abdul adjusted his bulging trousers. ‘In that crotchless corset, if she doesn’t stop gyrating her hips with her legs open, I’ll do far more to her than come on her tits, famous film star or not.’

Finn chuckled. ‘Yeah, she’s begging for it. Looks like she’s dry-humping a ghost.’ Turning to Elke’s landlord, he said, ‘Why don’t you put your theory about her to the test as you said you would?’

‘Okay,’ said Everitt. ‘I can’t promise anything but it’s gone perfectly so far.’

‘Apart from her expression,’ said Finn.’If looks could kill we’d be dead.’

Everitt shrugged. ‘She always looks so angry when I fuck her, yet still does anything I ask with no bother. She’ll hopefully fuck both of you, too. She did let my friend, Jakob, fuck her arse. Might end up getting my face slapped but here g—’

 ‘For fuck’s sake, just do it before my balls burst,’ said Abdul. ‘Better still, I’ll test your theory.’ Looking up at Elke’s face, the squat Asian said, ‘Open your legs much wider so we can see how wet you are… Pull your flaps wide… Wider… Now, push your pussy towards us… That’s it… Oh, boy… Look, lads… It’s swampy in there.’

Everitt thought he’d push his luck even further. After fetching her bedroom chair, he placed it in front of his friends. ‘Sit on there, spread your legs and finger yourself so we can listen to how wet you are as well as see.’

When she tried to object, her voice still wouldn’t work. She groaned with despair as her legs walked her to the chair and made her sit on it. Her knees flew open and her hands also took on a life of their own. Two of her beautifully manicured fingers slid inside the warm, wet hole, then began jabbing hard and fast.

Hearing the sloppy sounds, Finn stifled a groan as his warm semen filled his boxer shorts. Hoping nobody noticed the damp patch on his trousers, he said, ‘Can’t believe she obeyed you to the letter. She looks livid about it, though. Smile, Elke. No? Suit yourself. Why won’t you talk to us? Are we beneath you?’

Abdul sighed loudly. ‘Chat? Never mind chatting. I didn’t sneak out of the house behind my wife’s back to bloody chat. Be a sport, Elke. Give us a good look at your clit and vagina.’

‘She’ll never agree to do that for Abdul,’ said Finn, ‘She doesn’t know me and him from Adam. You’ve already fucked her, Everitt, so she’s okay with pleasing you. Miss Klaus never even gave us her autograph. She’s world-famous, don’t forget.’ He took out his phone to video her, just in case he was wrong.

‘I reckon she’ll do as he asked,’ said Everitt, phone poised.

Elke’s mouth was bone dry as her long, shapely legs walked the rest of her breathtaking body close to Abdul. His breath stroked her clitoral hood. Her limbs continued to have minds of their own. The two other men steadied her as her stiletto-clad foot raised itself onto the bed. Six pairs of hungry eyes watched her wobble as she battled to gain control of her hands.

‘No… please,  no… Stop making me do these things, Nuru,’ she muttered.

‘Who or what is Nuru?’ said Everitt, pushing his phone closer to her hands.

 Elke cried out in despair as she felt her knees bend and her hips thrust towards the men. The men grinned as her fingers pulled back her slippery clitoral hood.  

Abdul leaned forward for a closer look. ‘That’s the most tempting clit I’ve ever seen. Looks like it’s had plenty of rubbing. So swollen… I wonder which of your leading men wanked it in between takes, Fraulein Klaus. Now it’s my turn to do it.’

Expecting her to knock his hand away, he rubbed it hard and fast as his friends videoed it on their phones. She looked furious when he began licking it because the men now knew she was inexplicably powerless to stop the men doing whatever they wanted.

Abdul took a large electric wand vibrator from his holdall and plugged it into a wall socket while Finn licked and rubbed her clitoris.

‘You’re supposed to show us your vagina, too, remember?’ said Finn. ‘I’m not letting you get away with not doing that. Lie on the carpet and show us everything.’

The excited men watched in delight as the disgruntled celebrity lay on her back on the purple carpet, spread her legs wide and raised her buttocks high off the ground. One of her angry tears dripped onto the carpet as her traitorous fingers pulled her labia wide.

‘Mein Gott! What a view,’ said Finn, zooming his phone in for a close-up. ‘May we all take turns to fingerbang you?’

Her eyes widened in horror. ‘N..N… N… Yes!’ she shrieked, panting with the exertion of battling to refuse their demands.

‘Who’d have thought that such a famous star would have the tightest, wettest pussy I’ve ever fingered?’ said Finn, before licking his digits and going back for more, pressing Abdul’s electric vibrator on the disgruntled young woman’s clitoris. The men’s excitement grew as her orgasm built. They watched her buttocks clench and her body tense. When a jet of her ejaculate arced through the air, the men cheered.

She lost count how many orgasms the men gave her with their fingers, tongues and the wand before deciding it was their turn for some sexual release. It’s going to be another long, terrible night, thought Elke, glowering at her abusers as they removed all their scruffy, unfashionable clothes from their revolting bodies. They filmed her stripping down to her stockings and heels, taking time to demand she bend her over so they could film their fingers as they took turns to lick her anus and finger her rectum.

Twisting his fingers as he jabbed her vagina and rectum simultaneously as the others filmed it, Everitt said, ‘Now we have all these videos of you, even if you stopped doing as we say, we can blackmail you into it. I’m sure your fans would be shocked to see social media posts of you letting me finger your arse and pussy and all the other filthy things you’ve done today.’

‘And we’ve only just started,’ said Abdul. ‘We’re now going to fuck you bandy-legged, so lay on the bed.’

As the fully erect trio squabbled over whether they’d use condoms or not and who’d be first to have what appeared to be consensual sex with the film star, she lay spreadeagled on her bed with her blonde wig askew, waiting to be devoured by the pack of starving wolves. She wanted to die but knew suicide wasn’t an option having tried various methods to kill herself since Nuru took control of her life. He managed to thwart every attempt to escape her endless sexual torment.

Portents Of Doom

‘What a bloody nightmare that was,’ said Cara, fleeing along the muddy path under the dripping trees.

Declan caught up with her and grabbed her arm to slow her down. ‘Sorry for dragging you into such a bizarre situation. It wasn’t how I’d imagined fortune telling would be. Thought it’d be a bit of lighthearted fun.’

‘It was anything but,’ she said. ‘Did you see his stonking hard-on when he was talking about the German woman?’

‘I couldn’t miss it in that loincloth. Impressive for a man of his age,’ he said.

She started walking again. ‘What a disgusting creep he was. He wasn’t that old, only about sixty. What was all that nonsense he spouted about not cutting my hair?

‘No idea.’

‘Let’s go back to the hotel. I’m feeling spooked and grossed out. All the weirdo’s done is given us something to worry about.’

There was a crash of thunder and the rain pelted down harder. Although worried about both of Nuru’s peculiar predictions, Declan tried to make light of the predictions. If he didn’t calm his wife, the rest of the day would be dismal. Cara’s mother had always been deeply superstitious and it had rubbed off on her daughter. He deeply regretted pandering to his curiosity about the fortune teller and wished he’d stayed well away from him.

He placed a comforting arm on Cara’s shoulder. ‘What he said was all nonsense to impress the tourists, so forget about it.’

‘Might be easier said than done,’ she said, shrugging off his hand. ‘It felt like he put a curse on us rather than tell our fortunes.’

Declan kept quiet, not wanting to add fuel to his wife’s unease despite having similar concerns. Their love for each other was strong and had rarely been put to the test, but he sensed their relationship would have to be watertight to get through what could lie ahead of them, according to Nuru.

When they reached the hotel, they went straight to the bar and ordered tall glasses of rum and ginger beer. They sipped them slowly, too deep in their private thoughts to talk. The alcohol eased their tension and they enjoyed their evening meal at a local restaurant despite not being able to identify all the dishes.

Lying naked in bed with Declan’s arm draped around her waist as he slept, she was kept awake by Nuru’s troubling, puzzling words about a threat to their happiness coming within two years, and about her becoming a man magnet if she cut her hair. I’d better cancel next week’s hair appointment, she thought, listening to Declan’s snores.

They were both glad to fly back to Gatwick, pick up their Jeep and drive to the familiar luxury of their enviable property just off The Pantiles in Tunbridge Wells.

As they drove up the winding pathway and pulled up on the gravel courtyard in front of the three-storeyed house, Cara said, ‘That’s odd. Don’t think I’ve ever seen even one crow on our lawn before. There must be half a dozen of the blighters hopping about. Reminds me of Nuru’s gruesome pets. Bilbo and Davros, wasn’t it?’

‘Something like that. I’ll soon put paid to that,’ said Declan, shattering the peace with a long blast of the car horn, launching the crows into the air.

‘Epic fail,’ she said as the crows flew back onto the lawn, defying them with their beady eyes. ‘I don’t like it, Dec. They’re creeping me out, especially that big one. It’s waggling its tongue at me.’

Declan chuckled. ‘Your eyesight is better than mine. I can’t see its tongue but I doubt it’s doing that. Let’s go indoors. You must be overtired after the long flight.’

‘Love you to pieces but you can be such a condescending bugger sometimes,’ she said with a smile.

Heaving the suitcases out of the Jeep, he said, ‘Love you, too, but promise not to go all doom and gloom on me again.’

When he looked up, he realised he’d been talking to himself because Cara had run into the house to avoid the crows.

The next thirteen months passed with no great drama. They became used to the crows hopping around their lawn and gave up trying to disperse them as the inky birds always returned to gloat. Being active supporters of two animal charities, they dismissed the urge to kill their unwanted guests. Cara also gave up telling her busy husband about the birds’ habit of sticking their tongues out at her.

After Nuru’s threat of what would happen to her if she cut her hair, she’d avoided the hair salon. She was delighted with the result. Her hair now hung in rippling blonde waves to the middle of her back and earned her many compliments from Declan and the men they invited into their bedroom. One well-hung black rap artist who they’d met online had made good use of when she’d worn her hair up in bunches, using them as reins as he rode her from behind while Declan sat masturbating on the chaise longue next to the bed.

Since the trip to Africa, Cara’s nights had often been disturbed by nightmares, usually involving Nuru and the crows. She’d become a light sleeper despite the vigorous sex the couple enjoyed most nights, either alone or with the addition of various other men, before Declan went to bed in the guest room. Despite being married for almost two decades, their sex life had blossomed, not waned, especially since adopting an adventurous swinging lifestyle several years before.

It was a few days before Christmas when Declan first coughed up blood in the sink of the ensuite bathroom. He’d spent another sleepless night in one of the guest bedrooms, not wanting to keep his wife awake with his relentless coughing and spluttering. He kept the worrying incident to himself, partly not to spoil Cara’s festive fun and partly out of fear. He hoped it had been a one-off and nothing to worry about. Like many men, he avoided going to the doctor.

After coughing up blood in the bathroom at least once a day for over two weeks, he couldn’t avoid mentioning it to Cara. Shocked and horrified, she booked him an urgent appointment with their GP practice. By the time it was diagnosed, his lung cancer had turned out to be too advanced to cure. They both experienced so many negative emotions, they were stunned into living a half-existence as medicine did its best to rein in the virulent disease. Although she never voiced it because Declan was becoming increasingly frail, Cara was livid with him for keeping the signs he was ill to himself for so long.

Its progress was swift and merciless. Summer was sliding into Autumn when Declan breathed his last. Cara sleepwalked through his funeral which was attended by famous people from every section of the film world due to the mark the well-respected director had made on it. A tsunami of exhaustion hit her once he’d been buried and she hid away from the world as much as possible to try to come to terms with what had happened.

Though grateful for all the messages of sympathy she received, Cara wished everyone would leave her alone. She ached to still be with Declan and couldn’t believe he had gone forever, despite seeing him being planted in the ground. As an only child, she had no siblings for emotional support and her friends had mostly dwindled to two or three because of her rarely having been in the country because of Declan’s job.

Sensing she was heading into a deep depression, she planned to spend a month in Donegal with her mother and Sorcha’s new man, Sean Malloy. Aged sixty-two, the short, barrel-chested, bombastic businessman was five years younger than sweet-natured Sorcha. When she’d driven up to Sorcha’s modest bungalow, Cara was surprised to see Sean was living there. He’d made her feel uncomfortable by flinging his arms around her and squeezing her like a long-lost lover when she’d stepped out of her Jeep though they’d never met.

The grieving widow was surprised how obnoxious her mother’s new man was, yet Sorcha seemed besotted with the balding, overbearing bore with a fondness for whisky. Sean couldn’t keep his opinions or his hands to himself and Cara decided early on to cut short her visit to Donegal. His inappropriate flirtatious remarks when Sorcha was out of earshot were too much to stomach.

When he put his hand on her thigh when Sorcha was in the kitchen making them drinks, Cara packed her bags, made up an excuse to leave that Sorcha would believe and headed back to The Pantiles. She gave him a flea in his ear before leaving and toyed with the idea of telling her mother what he’d done. Fearing she might have overreacted Cara gave him the benefit of the doubt as he’d drunk a few whiskies that evening.

Over the following months, as her energy gradually increased, snarling anger bubbled up inside her over Declan’s cruel death. A strange by-product of her fury was that it kickstarted her libido. Her sex drive became stronger and more insistent than ever. With nothing to fill her time now that she was alone, and with a reckless, rebellious deathwish springing up from nowhere, Cara decided to reach out to men on the internet for sex.

Cara had no career to throw herself into to try to mask her grief. Declan had wanted her to be with him as much as possible, so she’d sold her designer clothes shop and travelled the world with him while he worked on various films. When he wasn’t working, they’d enjoyed life in their luxury house, walking distance from the upmarket Pantiles in Tunbridge Wells in Kent. Cara’s mother always called it Royal Tunbridge Wells, which is its proper title, revelling in the fact her precious daughter lived in such a grand place.

Sorcha hadn’t seen any of the rundown areas of the town but had loved their visits to Cara and Declan’s luxurious property near the Pantiles where they spoiled her with fancy restaurant meals and visits to the theatre.

When the first wave of grief had diminished enough for Cara to think of her future without Declan, she’d toyed with the idea of buying another designer clothes shop, but something more urgent had needed to be dealt with; her libido. The best part of their marriage had been their extremely active sex life.

They’d been confident enough in the strength of their marriage that they’d even joined the swinging scene for a couple of years before Declan’s cancer diagnosis had taken all the fun out of their raunchy meetings with various men and women. They’d stopped attending their favourite sex clubs to focus on his treatment, which proved ineffective. The cancer spread and his decline had been so rapid, Cara had struggled to keep up with events. Before she’d realised it, she was a widow.

She’d wanted to punch everyone in the face who looked at her with sympathetic eyes and told her, ‘It’s a blessing he didn’t suffer too long,’ or, even worse, ‘He’s gone to a better place.’

She wanted to scream at them, ‘But I wanted to grow old with Declan. Seven years wasn’t nearly long enough to be his wife. His place is here, with me. Not festering in a poxy grave.’

Cara had started meeting men solely for sex two years after Declan’s traumatic funeral when she’d had to be heavily sedated after acting like a maniac as he was lowered into the ground. It had been a strain for her to have lasted so long without unleashing her inner sex fiend. Meeting oversexed young men had been incredibly easy. She already had her profiles on numerous internet sex sites from when she and her husband had met up with attractive random strangers for sex.

In the last year, she had lost count of how many men she’d allowed into her bed. Buff_Destroyer512 must be about my fiftieth. Several men had told her she must be insane for letting them into her house rather than meeting in a public place. They usually said, ‘ I could be an axe murderer or something.’

Her stock reply was always, ‘So could I.’

As she sucked them, took them full force inside her, or smoked a cigarette with them after they’d both come, she’d think, Fools. Don’t they realise I have a death wish after losing Declan? I wonder what caused their death wish.

When whoever the man was had left her, she’d feel almost as lonely as the day Declan died. She was on a treadmill of replacing one man with another. Some she saw several times, but because of their age difference, they’d ghost her after finding a woman closer to their age, or because they’d moved on to experiment with another mature woman. Clara also had no qualms about saying she didn’t want to see a man again. When it came to Buff_Destroyer512 and her, she wondered, Who will be the one to ghost who after tonight?