Date: Fri, 11 Oct 2013 04:45:09 -0700 (PDT)
From: pat roberts <philip_effiong@yahoo.com>
Subject: White Sunset 25

White Sunset 25


Tha Racial Retraining Department


Racial Retraining Cases – Mathieu Chagrin Part 3

At last, and apologies for the delay, we delve further into the Africa
Resurgence archives to find out what happened to young Mathieu Chagrin when
he arrived at his new school. This account draws heavily on the extensive
files and videos kept by the Principal of the International African
Academy, his staff and senior prefects – all of whom had received
briefings from Africa Resurgence's Head of Racial Retraining, Jean-Louis
Babalode before Mathieu arrived.  Babalode was actually at the school,
somewhat incognito, and staying in a local hotel, when this very special
new boy made his startling first appearance. He wanted to see what all the
fuss with this boy was about, and it might be nice, he thought, to ride
him. Even better, though unlikely, if he is a virgin.

It was evening by the time he, Mathieu arrived, and Babalode was sipping a
very fine French cognac with the Principal, his very good friend,
Christophe Okwere, when it was reported that Mathieu was outside the
Principal'sdoor.  They switched on the two video cameras outside to see
him.

"Oh Jeez, Chris, just look at that! Did you ever see a finer whiteboy? And
he's come almost bollock naked from the airport!"  Babalode zoomed in on
his white butt, picking up the marks of his slapping at the airport, and
the Customs stamp – large, and made especially for him, full on his
right butt-cheek.  "Oh fuck!  Just look at that!!!" The two black men
laughed.  Babalode moved the camera to show a small group of happy juniors
watching the near naked whiteboy, chattering excitedly.

"We'll leave him there for a while, and give the boys some entertainment!
Have another cognac, Jean, it was in the whiteboy's luggage; the trunk you
had taken straight off the plane.  In fact it arrived at lunch-time –
hours before he did. The lazy young white slut was still entertaining the
airport staff!  The was, as you anticipated full of cases of cognac, the
best Champagne, fine Bordeaux wines, and other goodies.  You must take a
bottle of this Remy Martin back to your hotel, and a couple of Mumms. There
were nooo clothes at all or boys' stuff in the trunk! Other than the
requested 20 pairs of Nike trainers, and four dozen white Hom briefs and
boxers in various sizes. Of course he won't be needing them, but its good
to keep his handlers happy, as long as he is providing services on campus
with us!"  They both chuckled.

(As the second episode was some time ago, lets just remind ouselves of the
way Part 2 ended, after he had been cleared for entry by Immigration and
Customs!)

                                             * * * * * * * * * *

Collection by the school driver and his assistant happened straight off the
carousel in the large totally empty hall.  Mathieu thought he was saved,
and began to recount the unbelievable and scandalous treatment he had
received at the airport, expecting sympathy and assistance from the
school's representatives.  They paid no attention at all to what he was
saying, other than for the driver to shrug his shoulders and say

"This is Africa, Boy! You better get used to it!"

 The boy's erect dripping nakedness was partially covered by a small black
loincloth, leaving his stamped ivory white butt quite naked.

"It's all we have with us" the driver responded to Mathieu's further
outraged protests when the loicloth had been produced. "You could stay
stark naked if you prefer?"

Then it was a short walk outside in the airport car-park, some good-natured
banter with the parking attendants, and then into the front bench seat of
the school pick-up.  There was for a four hour journey ahead for young
Mathieu, squeezed between the driver and his young black assistant.

The journey was long and uneventful excepting the frequent road blocks. The
assistant kept his hand on Mathieu's thigh, and gently stroked it from time
to time, causing the loincloth to slip off the hardening white cock. Three
or four times the black boy and the driver squeezed the white cock and
yanked on it until Mathieu's groans indicated he was near coming, then they
stopped with a laugh. They joked together in their language until they
arrived at the next block when they unceremoniously pulled him out.

The police and military road blocks were money making ventures and always
had been.  The officers had all been bribed on the journey down, and played
their part nicely in getting Mathieu thoroughly probed and examined.  Each
time several spread his butt for a communal examination, fingering his
white ass, and pushing up fingers to "explore for illicit drugs", and
lifting his little loincloth better to feel the white cock and balls
beneath. Both police and army officers, mainly men but with some young
females, slapped him up for insolence, largely because of his erect white
cock.

                                                             * * * * * *

He arrived at his future school exhausted, sore, near-naked and with not a
stitch to his name.

He was shown immediately, by the driver, to the Principal's office, and
told to stand outside.  He would be called in, he was told, when the
Principal is ready for him.  Passing black schoolboys, dressed just as in
the brochure he had seen for the first time just two days before, stopped
and looked at him with interest as they stroked the front of their tight
khaki shorts. .



                                                       * * * * * *


Whilst his future tormentors were inside sipping their Remy Martins, and
glancing at him on the video monitor, Mathieu was kept waiting standing
outside the office for some 45 minutes. Most unfortunate. He thought of
running for it, but where was he to go? They were in the middle of the
fucking jungle! Better off here at the Principal's room, he thought.  He
will surely sort out the confusion.

Small groups of smartly dressed black schoolboys, both older and younger
than him, continued to pass by. Mathieu began to recognise those who had
passed twice or three times. They slowed down and stopped, drinking in the
sight of the muscular, near naked white boy. Mathieu, blushing, his head
bowed in shame, looked covertly at them. They were, he recognised, handsome
young blacks. Their youthful good looks were enhanced by their sparkling
white shirts, maroon ties, and long khaki socks. Their tightly tailored
khaki shorts covered their upper thighs, and hugged apple-shaped butts and
often bulging groins.These boys were so different, thought Mathieu, from
the scruffy, ill-kempt and noisy boys that he had seen on the road from the
airport. These were self assured, sleek and glossy black middle-class boys.
In a group they looked like ravens gathering.

Some of the small groups stopped for five to ten minutes, talking quietly
between themselves as they stared.Some came up close for a good look but
hardly anyone touched. One cheeky youngster felt his crack, another his
balls. Emboldened, a boy of Matheu's age frigged the white cock a few times
to general amusement. Not a word was said to him. Some stared him in the
eyes; others at his near-naked bronzed white body. They focussed on the
vulnerable ivory strip below his waist, where Mathieu's shorts had always
protected him from the French and English sun.. Some gently stroked the
front of their shorts, others licked their lips and made what seemed to
Mathieu to be funny, surely lewd remarks to their friends, in their own
language. He thought maybe they spoke in KiSwahili which he had read in the
brochure was the day-to-day common language of the school.  He couldn't
understand a word. Whatever was said it certainly made the others
chuckle. Some smiled; most were too engrossed to be anything other than
serious, and only laughed nervously at the jokes.

It was all made so much worse by Mathieu's seven inch, white, uncircumcised
cock becoming spontaneously but totally erect – the little black
loincloth quite useless, sheltering only the base of his turgid tool like a
canopy. He turned towards the wall, but the reaction from the watching
black boys was a spontaneous cheer, "ooohs" and "aaaahs" of appreciation,
and giggles at the Customs stamp emblazoned on his butt-cheek. They viewed
the naked ivory white bubblebutt intently, so much whiter, and surely
tighter, yet juicier than the rest of him. He was just ever so fuckable –
and so vulnerable here they knew, with 400 young black cocks, kept away
from all girls, urgently seeking relief.

From time to time a school porter, a man of about Papa's age thought
Mathieu with some hope, came across to shoo them away.  The third time he
passed he went and got a chair from a neighbouring room for Mathieu to sit
on – a high laboratory style seat – which he placed facing the
Principal's door (and one of the cameras).  The boy's white butt was
visible through the open chair back and his cock stuck upwards almost to
his navel, its foreskin peeled back showing a bright pink helmet. Mathieu
tried, somewhat unsuccessfully, to cover his cock with his hands.

The problem was, he knew, he experienced such excitement at seeing these
svelte, lissom, slender black boys and, yes, being on show for them. Whilst
he blushed at their stares, he was lusting for them, in a sexual overdrive
he hadn't experienced, even with Jean-Louis, his erstwhile black wrestling
partner at his English school.  What, of course, Matthieu didn't know was
that the sexual stimulants he had unwittingly taken on the plane had been
topped up generously with the local famously effective BeetleJuice in the
fizzy drinks he had been given on the road. The porter gave him yet another
fizzy drink, and dose, which due to his thirst he drank down quickly

"Hands on your head, Boy" said the porter smiling at him having shooed the
boys away once more. "Its obligatory as you await the Principal.  You don't
want a caning, do you?"  The older man stroked Mathieu's face, and ruffled
his hair affectionately.  He took Matthieu's hands, quickly feeling his
white balls and squeezing his turgid cock as he did so, and placed the
boy's hands on his head.


His admirers returned, many with digital cameras and camera phones. Their
pics would be all round the dining room in an hour. Inside, unbeknown to
him, Okwerre and Babalode, heads of the Academy and Racial Retraining for
Africa Resurgence respectively, were going over their future plans for him
as they watched in amusement their potentially very profitable and latest
catch.  Neither of the men made any attempt to disguise the erections in
their pants from eachother. Both hung like black stallions, they had shared
too many whites, women as well as boys, for them to be shy. Indeed
Jean-Louis Babalode absently stroked down the inside thigh of the younger
Chris Okwerre's jeans where the Principal's huge black cock bulged out.
They both planned to have the quite delicious whiteboy soon, perhaps
separately rather than together, before he was ruined by too many horny
adolescent blacks.

                                                               * * * * *

Maybe Mathieu had expected a charitable hand extended to him by the Academy
Principal. If so, he had obviously been under a serious misapprehension.

Monsieur Chris Okwerre sat behind his large leather covered desk, observing
the virtually naked white boy standing in front of him He was a tall slim
and handsome dark skinned man, Banyamulenge by tribe, in his early
thirties. He was dressed informally this evening, in a red silk shirt,
unbuttoned over the top of his muscular chest, white jeans and expensive
white leather shoes. A thick gold chain dropped over his strong upper
chest, and two large gold rings adorned his long slim fingers. His hair was
fashionably plaited in tight corn rows.

M Jean-Louis Babalode was now nowhere to be seen, he had even taken his
brandy glass away – in fact he was now in the video control room,
aligning up the hidden cameras in the Principal's office.  They had agreed
exactly where Okwerre should have the boy bend over. A camera set in the
floor would give an interesting shot upwards to the boy's cock and balls
others would focus on his butt, and on his disciplinarian.  One would
record all his facial expressions, The roughly edited video would be with
the boy's step-father Kojo Agualiso, and his friend and lawyer Kwame
Ogondi, by the morning.  Daily videos would be despatched for the next two
weeks. A commercial edition, planned to be the first in a series, would be
produced in South Africa, where oddly enough it would be snapped up in sex
shops mainly by older white males.

"So you finally arrived intact, if naked, having tired of your slutty games
at the airport? I have had the Colonel-in-charge of Immigration on the
phone, and know how you provoked his Officers.  I'm glad that they showed
commendable restraint by allowing you through. And I have heard of your
outrageous behaviour at the police and army road blocks.  Even worse, you
stand before me now, with that white cock sticking straight out towards me,
your Principal!"

"Well I know how to get that down, Boy" he got up and knocked the end of
the offending member with a wooden pointer picked up from his desk. "We
have experience here of dealing with troublemakers like you, Boy,
especially you white gay boys who strut like you are men......"

Mathieu had the arrogance to speak, trying to interrupt the Principal.

"Quiet Boy! How dare you! You speak only when I say so!" He glided behind
the now trembling whiteboy, and smacked him smartly and unexpectedly on his
naked white rump.

"Get over my desk, Boy, bend right over and push your bottom right up!
Further up Boy! Yes,just there! Higher!  I don't want that nasty white cock
touching my desk!"

A discrete button had been pressed. The door behind Mathieu opened and he
heard the Principal and an older boy speaking.  He could see only the boy's
feet, in open sandals with nosocks, and a little later as the boy got
closer, his long black legs to the bottom of his shorts.  He was carrying a
long thin bamboo cane.

"Right, Kishingwe, this is young Mathieu, just arrived and with a typical
whiteboy attitude problem Just two strokes for now, but make them sting!
You know well how to make a whitey wince, whine and sing!"

The promising black student, one of the Senior Prefects, went into action
mode as usual. He stood legs apart, a metre behind the prone whiteboy.

"Ecartez les jambes, mon pute!"  Mathieu spread his legs as ordered, his
tight balls now visible from behind to both Principal and Prefect..

"You may feel and check the target before you attack, Kishingwe, if you so
wish?"

Kishingwe certainly did wish. He stroked the white cheeks, and opened the
crack.  Licking his right middle finger he looked for assent from the
Principal who nodded.  He pushed his finger firmly into the whiteboy's
hole.

"Silence, Boy!" barked the Principal, as Mathieu let out an anguished
screech. Getting a silent nod of assent from M. Okwerre, Kishingwe began to
slowly finger fuck the prone whiteboy as, with the other hand, he felt
through his legs for the boy's turgid white cock. He grasped it
tightly. His own black cock surged to erection in his shorts as the white
boy began to whimper and squirm.

"Enough! Whip him!" said the Principal in a somewhat strangulated
voice. "Take up your position Kishingwe!"

Kishingwe adjusted his cock in his shorts, and ran the length of his cane
down the boy's crack. Then, standing with legs apart, he raised the cane
behind him and applied two stinging lashes to the French lad's unprotected
buttocks.

"Excellent, Kishingwe!" said the Principal, the fly-studs on his jeans
straining alarmingly.

"Pitie!! Mercy"" shouted the whiteboy, as he screamed with pain.

"You say 'Sir' to your betters Boy.  And that means, don't forget it, to
every black person on campus, Boy!"

"Yes Sir! Mercy Sir!!" yelled the whiteboy, crying on the top of the desk,
and anxious to avoid another painful lash.

"Also, you miserable Boy, when you are disciplined by a Black Superior, you
show gratitude immediately by thanking him, and kneeling at his feet and
kissing them. Your whole life is governed under the Black Rod now Boy, its
time you realised that!"

Another lash landed on the upturned white buttocks. Another squeal.

 "Now kneel! Kiss the rod that beat you!"  Mathieu kissed the proferred
cane

"Now lick the feet of your disciplinarian and do it properly!"

Mathieu couldn't imagine why he was being brought so low, but stuck out his
tongue and began to lick the Prefect's large soiled feet, the sweaty toes
being pushed fully into his mouth, one by one.

"Is he doing something good, Kishingwe?"

"Oh Yes Sir! His tongue sure feels good on my feet, Sir – it freshens me
up well!"

"Well, now he has to pay homage to your more precious Rod – the turgid
black rod in your shorts Kishingwe.  Let me help you pull it out!

The Principal unzipped the 18 year old's shorts, pushed his hand into the
boy's white Calvins and with difficulty yanked out the boy's large hard
circumsized black tool.  Then he pushed the whiteboy, face first, into the
black boy's groin. He laughed as without prompting Mathieu began to lick
the head of the 18 year old's impressive cock.

"Excellent, excellent, a real whiteboy blackcock sucker! Lick it down to
those black balls, Boy!"

As his Principal watched Kishingwe began to slap the boy's face with the
black cock.

"Now suck it Boy!  Mathieus's lust took over and he started to suck hard
and deep on the Prefect's hard black tool.  Kishingwe, after some minutes,
began to groan.

"Enough, you slut!"  he pulled the naked whiteboy off his black lollipop.

"I'm putting Mathieu in your care tonight, Kishingwe. Its better he's in
one of the prefect rooms until we sort out his dormitory. Who do you share
with? "

"Apollo Nhongo, Sir! He's only an ordinary Prefect Sir, and Mushi, my
junior servant stays with us too Sir

"Well, Mathieu can sleep there with you. I know there's always enough room
for a PodWhite. Push him under your bed to sleep and he'll have protection
from your mosquito net."  He added, but in Swahili so that Mathieu would
not understand, "You can do as you please with him, but no damage!  OK?  If
you and Apollo fuck him tonight make sure he cleans out his whiteboi cunt
in the morning because a VIP wants to use him. Oh and get young Mushi to
shave him round the cock, balls and ass – he looks disgusting like that"

"Oh Yes Sir, thank you sir!" Kishingwe pushed his cock down the leg of his
shorts and zipped himself up.

"Now take him away! I want to see you both with him after prayers tomorrow
morning. Find some old shorts for him to wear in the morning; we dont want
him frightening Father James with that thing"
 "Yes Sir I'll find something for him Sir, but it might well go down by the
morning!".

Kishingwe held him quite naturally by the engorged cock, and pulled him,
gently enough, to the door. He held his cane in the other hand.

"Sir Please Sir can I say something?"  implored Mathieu, looking back "I'm
sorry Sir I haven't eaten since early morning Sir, I'm hungry Sir!"

"Very well, take him down to the central kichen and get him something
Kishingwe. Though I have no doubt he will be having Boudin Noir and sauce
later!"

"Sir, Sir I don't have any clothes Sir. Has my luggage arrived Sir?

"I have heard nothing about that, Do you think I handle boys' baggage Boy?
Kishingwe has said he will find you some shorts or something." said the
Principal, taking a long sip of Remy Martin....

				* * * * * *

Thats the end of this episode – let me know if you are still reading it,
and enjoying it.  If there's demand, the next episode will be published
shortly.

And please remember to donate to Nifty!

Philip Effiong