How did I get back home? I don’t know. Hank just laughed when I begged him to give me my clothes back. It was at that moment I realized I had to make a radical change in my life. Luckily, the Iraq war came, Hank disappeared from my life (I hoped he would have fallen), I went into rehab, missed a full semester, finished college and finally got married at 26.
Was I thinking a lot about Hank? Of course. Hank had been the only man who steadfastly refused to fuck me. It hurt more than the humiliations the men had inflicted on me. With my husband, who was constantly scampering around me like a puppy and wanted to have vanilla sex, things went downhill after a few months. After 14 months we finally got a divorce.
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II
SEARCH
On my 29th birthday I received an e-mail whose sender I did not know. But I recognized the face on the attached photo: it was mine. Underneath was a link to download a file. Nothing more. With trembling fingers I downloaded the film and of course I knew what to expect. And I was not disappointed: it was the film Hank had made and it showed everything. My face, my breasts, my holes, my mouth, the countless black cocks, the punches, the piss, the black asses, my tongue, my screams and finally the scene where I eat shit. When the film was over, I pulled my fingers out of my dripping cunt and I must have come five times at least.
My little life, which until then had been put back in order, got out of control. I knew I had to see Hank again. Only I had no idea where he was. or if the e-mail really came from him. Because when I answered it, the message came back as undeliverable.
I took leave and drove around the various barracks. Frankfurt, Wiesbaden, Mannheim and Kaiserslautern. Some of the people I approached still knew Hank, but no one could tell me where he was and if he was still alive at all.
Weeks went by like that. Until I got a call. The voice on the other end of the line spoke German, but the accent was clearly American. Judging by the sonorous voice, the caller was black.
“You looking for Hank?”
I affirmed. What I then learned did not shock me. Hank no longer lives in Germany, but is now married. He is also no longer in the military service, because his business is a little illegal. And he’s even more perverted than before. I wonder if I really want to see him again.
I said yes.
“Then I advise you to go to Detroit. He’ll find you!”
Then the line was cut.
Now I was close to the finish line, I knew it. The next day I quit my job at the law firm, took the rest of my vacation, booked a flight via Chicago to Detroit, paid a week in advance for a cheap motel on the outskirts of town and waited. One day. A week. I paid for another week. Nothing happened.
I went to strip clubs and porn bars where only negroes hung out. I asked for Hank. I wanted to leave a trail. I showed the picture of me from the e-mail and explained that it was a still from a film that Hank had made. On my smartphone I showed excerpts from the film, some knew it, most did not. I left my address and phone number. But nothing happened. Meanwhile, a month had passed.
When I came back to the motel from one of my tours, the answering machine of the phone was blinking. I listened to the message. It was a woman’s voice. She just told me to fuck off. That was my cue.
After my money was completely used up, I had to leave the motel and started working as a waitress in one of the strip clubs for negroes. One of the black bouncers was willing to take me in as long as I showed my service. His filthy apartment was above the club and the guests with special preferences accompanied me upstairs. There I was beaten, kicked, spat on, tied up and fucked. Without a residence permit, without a work permit and without money I was fair game. I fucked the bouncer and I fucked the men the bouncer let over me. I didn’t get any money, but I could stay in the country. That was the most important thing.
I told the bouncer, his name was Mike, about Hank. What he had done to me and that I was still waiting for him. Mike kept asking around, and every week new little details about Hank came to light. He was like a phantom, a ghost. He must have been well-connected with the police and had a knack for making young girls disappear. Mostly runaways, druggies, broken bones. He was probably only interested in white women, whom he trained, trained and sold. Goodbye forever.
There was talk of drugs. And dogs. The girls were probably kept on leashes and in cages and had to give themselves to animals. It was a very lucrative business, black market of course, but the money from drug sales had to circulate. Mike showed me films of women being fucked by dogs. All white women. What I saw shook me up and excited me at the same time. Mike laughed, beat me and fucked me in the ass while insulting me.
It was a Saturday night, the customers had already left and I was lying on my mattress when Mike turned on the bright light, woke me up and gave me an address. “Memorize it well. Take a taxi. You’ll find out everything else there!” I looked at him questioningly. He nodded. “Yes, it’s Hank!” He gave me a twenty-dollar bill and I licked his cock, balls and ass one last time as a goodbye. Then I got dressed and I walked away.
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III
DEVOTION
It was a run-down industrial quarter, a lot of wasteland, some dilapidated houses and even more empty halls, to which the taxi took me. The number 2801 was an old brick building that looked very run down. The street was empty and it dawned. The taxi driver asked if I really wanted to get out? I said yes. This is where I had to be. This was the right place for me.
The cool morning air made me shiver. An old shabby car drove by and honked its horn. I waved it off. The negro laughed and showed his white teeth. I heard a dog barking.
The brick house was a two-storey flat-roofed building that had certainly once served a small production company as its headquarters. The windows on the ground floor were still intact, upstairs they were shattered. I was wearing a black coat, under which I was naked. With boots and my bag. That’s all I needed. I rang the bell. But the bell didn’t work. So I knocked. But other than the bark of the dog, I didn’t hear a sound.
I turned around and looked down the street. It had become light in the meantime. It was a slow Sunday morning with no traffic, no people on the road. I sat down on a stone shed that had once been used for garbage cans a few meters from the house. And waited. Nothing happened.
At some point, I heard noises behind me. The door had opened and a fat black woman in a dirty pink dressing gown was standing in the door frame. I jumped down from the shed and walked towards the house. But the woman made a very bossy gesture and told me to stop. With her arm stretched out she pointed at me and waved around.
“You’re Mareike?” she shouted. I nodded.
“You’re the bitch?!”
I affirmed.
“We don’t need you here!”
“I’m looking for Hank,” I said.
“Hank’s not here!”
“When is he coming?”
“It’s none of your business, cunt!”
With that she turned around and went into the house. I was stunned.
A few minutes later she came out again, this time with a black Rottweiler on the leash. She still had her robe on, but now she didn’t pay attention to me anymore.
The dog pantled past me and did his business a few meters below the entrance to the parking lot. He sniffed, he peed and at some point he bent his back and squeezed out a turd of dogshit. Then he walked around with the black woman for a few more minutes, seemed to be looking for something, sniffed and lifted his leg. Then they both passed me again.
“You’re still here!”
I nodded.
“Then make yourself useful and pick up the business of Nero. But on all fours. Like a real bitch! And then you bring it to me! “And she laughed dirty and disappeared into the house. A few seconds later the curtains were pushed aside by one of the windows and the Negress appeared behind the glass. She watched me.
I had waited so long. I knew I was in the right place. I had to do it. So I got down on all fours and crawled to the spot where the Rottweiler had bent his back. It was a piece of solid turds, but I had no idea how to bring it back tot he lady on all fours. I kneeled in front of the piece of shit and was disgusted. But it was no use. Kneeling, I grabbed the sausage and crawled on my knees along the road to the house. My coat was torn and my knees bled when I got back to the entrance. Tears were running down my cheeks.
I barked to signal that I was outside the door. And indeed, a few moments later the door opened and the Negress stood in the door. Her dressing gown was open, she was naked underneath. And fat. Really fat. Her belly overflowed and her breasts hung down like bulging milk tubes. She smiled maliciously.
“Bitch!”
I nodded.
“You’re gonna eat shit now, cunt!” she said with a grin. “Hurry up, we don’t have forever! Put the beautiful piece as a whole in your mouth. Come on now!”
I was completely stunned. I had rubbed my knees, tore my coat and exposed myself to the disgusting stench of dog excrement, and now I had to do something… …that piece of shit in my mouth? I looked at her and I shook my head.
The negress turned around a bit, muttered something about “that’s it!” and wanted to disappear into the house again. What could I do?
“Wait, please!”
The Negress turned around slowly, very slowly. She rammed her arms up her waist and smiled: “Last chance, cunt!”
So with the fingers of one hand I took the piece of dog excrement from the other hand and stuck out my tongue. It wasn’t just the thought, it was the unbearable stench that made me choke. She looked firmly into my eyes and the look was demonic. It said only one thing: Go!
So I did. But no sooner had I put the dog shit in my mouth than a gush of stomach contents poured out of my mouth over the stone path where I was kneeling.
“That’s normal the first time!” she laughed. “Go on, lick everything up and lick your fingers and hands clean too!” So she went back into the house and closed the door.
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