Not quite Marriott Plaza

A few minutes later, the truck slowed down and eventually came to a stop. One of the soldiers peered outside. "We've arrived, corporal," he said. The corporal, the african who had held Brooke pinned on his lap, nodded, and answered in a native language the two girls, who cowered on the floor, didn't understand. Obviously he gave directions to his men, who responded in agreement. One of them took off his camouflage shirt and threw it casually at Brooke, who had been naked ever since the gang **** had started. "Where are we?" the blonde girl dared to ask cautiously, as she used the large shirt to cover her young body. "At ya destination, slut," the corporal snapped, "and now shut ya mouth, filthy cum whore." Brooke shuddered, when she was reminded how easily she had succumbed to her sexual desires. The juices on her thighs had just began to dry, and the knowledge of what had happened stung deep into her mind. Ashamed, Brooke averted her eyes from her friend Debbie. The Englishwoman sensed her friend's distress and gave her a comforting tug. Helplessly she tried to smile. For a brief instant, the two young beauties looked into each others' eyes - however, none of them found much hope in that gaze. Only uncertainty and fear.

"Brooke, I..." But before the redhead photographer could say more, one of the soldiers grabbed her by her arm and yanked her upwards. "C'mon, white bitch. Get off da truck. Hurry! And dunt give us any shit, understood?"

Debbie nodded, and did as told. Her big breasts swung freely as she climed from the ramp. When she landed on the sandy soil, she grabbed the seam of her unbuttoned shirt in a vain attempt to block any sight to her bared tits. Surprisingly, the soldiers didn't object, and Debbie looked around. The truck was parked at the edge of a small village market place. The sun had already set, and nobody was to be seen except the soldiers, who were busy unloading boxes from the truck and guarding the two capture beauties. A blonde wave of hair to her right told Debbie, that Brooke had also climbed from the truck.

"Do you know where we are?" Brooke asked silently, whisps of drying cum splattered all over her pretty face.

"No," Debbie answered quickly, her voice a hushed whisper. "Looks like some suburb or even a countryside village. I'm not sure how long we have driven."

"Me neither." Brooke said. The blonde girl's hands clung tightly to the too large shirt, which ended midway to her slender thighs. After a moments silence, she added, "W-what will they do with us?"

Debbie turned her head around, facing her scared friend. "I don't know. I just hope, it won't be too bad. Maybe they will release us when they are done with us."

Brooke swallowed hard. "And i-if not...?"

Harshly Debbie shook her head. "Never dare to think that. There must be some way out. Don't loose hope, we..."

Whatever Debbie wanted to say was cut short when the musculared corporal returned and adressed the girls. "'kay, white bitches. Yer lucky, the hotel has some vacant rooms. We'll take ya dere, and den see wut happens, awright?" The corporal pointed his hand into the direction of the nearest building. On large, fading letters the name 'Hotel Lumumba' could be seen. It didn't look much inviting, but it was way better than anything the two frightened girls had expected. Uncertain how to reply, the two girls nodded. The corporal gave a sign to his men, at which one soldiers grabbed one girl each, and together as a group, they walked to the hotel.

Upon entering the lobby, the girls were greeted with the sight of carelessness and decay. A lone bulb illuminated the hall, coloring the dirty walls into ugly shades of light-brown and grey. The floor hadn't been cleaned in ages, and scrap papers and other garbage was piled up in the corners. A toothless old black man stood behind a counter and watched the newcomers.

"Dis is not da Marriott in capital, but for dis night it be okay," the corporal explained, as if he had read the girls' thoughts. His comrades laughed and commented his introduction in their native tongue. The corporal hissed back and his men hushed. Then he turned to the girls. "Da two rooms are not on da same floor. Yers," he pointed at Debbie, "is up da stairs. De other is down da hall." He pointed down a long corridor that led deeper into the building.

"Can't we stay together?" Debbie asked bravely. "We won't mind sharing one room, please... sir."

"No. Yall do as black men say. Me thought, ya dunt need another reminder, white girl?" His voice was heavy with menace.

The girls shuddered. Brooke quickly grabbed Debbie's hand, and squeezed it reassuringly. The young photographer took a deep breath and said, "Yes, of course, sir. We understand quite well. Pardon my boldness. We will do as you recommend."

"Fine. Den it's settled." He turned at Brooke. "My men will take ya to yer room. Ya find clothes dere. The streets are unsecure dese days. Rebel scum has been reported by mayor of village. Better stay inside room."

Without having any real option but to obey, the beauty queen nodded her consent. One soldier took her arm again, and with another one as escort, they started down the hall. Debbie watched them until the trio rounded a corner. Then she noticed, that she was left alone with five, hostile soldiers and the old clerk in the receiption room. "C-can I see my room, s-sir?" The corporal turned towards her. His gaze scanned her perfect body from head to toe. All of sudden, she words spoken to her by one of the soldiers slipped back into her conscience. 'Tonight we fuck you, girl.' And she realized why she had been separated from her friend. "P-please, d-don't hurt me," Debbie pleaded, her tongue heavy with fear. "Dis up to ya, white bitch," the corporal replied, tilting his head towards the stairs. His comrades grinned. Debbie swallowed hard. Then she turned to the stairs and started her way up, headed off to a night she wouldnt forget that easily.