The Diary Of Sarie Marais

Publishers' Note: This is the translated copy of the diary of Sarie Marais, a young (24 years' old) South African and Afrikaner woman. When I met Sarie I would not have guessed that she had such a remarkable tale to tell. Her tale involves getting to know a group of people that she would never have associated with. In order to help the readers not familiar with South African terms, I have included brief explanations in brackets where required.

Please send any comments to the author. These are always welcome since they act as the inspiration to knuckle down and write further stories. The author can be reached at: her profile.

Day 1:

Dear diary

My worse fears have been realised. What every white woman in South Africa fears has happened to me. I feel defiled. I have already had 3 baths and 5 showers and yet I still feel dirty. But us Afrikaner women are strong. Did we not, when the Republic of Natalia was stolen from us 150 odd years ago, offer to trek (move via an ox wagon) across the Drakensberg (a very high mountain range in South Africa) bare feet if necessary? Therefore, out of the depths of my misery I have found a way to exact revenge. And the revenge will be sweet. But I see that I am telling a rather confused story, so allow me to start at the beginning.

It was approx. 11H00 this morning when my front door bell rang. Today, being Sunday, meant that I had just arrived back from church. When I answered the door, I saw a well-dressed black man standing there. He asked me directions, but I didn't have time to waste with the blacks. I therefore said I did not know (even though the place he was looking for was only a block away.) and started to close the door. I was annoyed since I wanted to start cooking my lunch and he hence did not appreciate the intrusion. Hence, angry at the intrusion, I said underneath my breath: "Stupid Kaffir" (Kaffir: An extremely offensive term. The best translation would be Nigger.) The black man had already turned away and was heading away from the door when he must have heard me. He stopped, put his foot in the door to prevent me closing the door, and said: "What did you just say?"

The menace in his voice and the anger in his eyes made me shudder. I mumbled an apology and attempted to close the door. At that moment he forced the door open and forced me backwards with such force that I fell backwards and landed on my back. The man stepped over me and grabbed me by the hair. He yanked me up on my feet, kicked the front door closed, and dragged me through the house and into my bedroom. Just before he tossed me onto the bed, he grabbed hold of my blouse. The momentum with which he threw me to the bed ripped my blouse to shreds leaving myself in just my skirt and bra. My arms naturally went to me chest to cover my modesty. This was a mistake since he grabbed hold of both my arms and pinned them to my chest. With the other hand he reached underneath my skirt and ripped my panties off.

Time then started moving very slowly. As if in slow motion, I saw him reach down with his free hand loosen his belt, drop his trousers and underwear revealing a hard, erect black penis – the size of which I have never seen. He then moved forward and soon I felt the head of his penis touch the entrance of my vagina. I felt him slip the head into my body and then stop, smile at me before penetrating me to the hilt. Diary, as you know, I am not a virgin, but I have never felt as stretched as what I felt at that moment. Not only was my worse fears realised, but my body had betrayed me and my vagina was well lubricated before he entered me. What does that make me? He then paused, while buried in me and lifted my hands off my chest. These he forced above my head, pinned them there before loosening my front clasp of my bra. He then started biting and sucking on my nipples while pumping his massive organ into my body. In between doing this, he was whispering things into my ear such as: "How does that feel you white bitch?" and "Does this black cock feel good in your white pussy?" I finally felt him tense before feeling his hot semen wash into me. When he finally got off me, I laid dead still crying while he calmly put his trousers back on.

Then, my dear diary, when I thought that my life was over, the ray of light appeared. Because he then told me that he would return the next evening for some more of what he termed "white pussy" and that I had to make sure that I did not tell anyone about our "fun". With that he left. Well, I will give him fun. Tomorrow I will go to the police and when he arrives he will have some fun, but not the kind that he expects. Stupid kaffir. Did he really think that I would lay back and accept more of the abuse that he dealt out. I cannot wait to see his face when the police corner him. I think I will then use the opportunity to give him a good kick in the balls. Just because they run the country in the so-called "New South Africa" does not give them the right to go around and rape white women. I will have my revenge.

Day 2:

Dear Diary

I am worried about my sanity. I am turning into a slut. I do not know what is happening to me. The black man that forced himself into my life yesterday has now become such an integral part of my life that even now, as I am writing this, my mind is thinking of his hard penis and my free hand is rubbing my pussy (I can't believe that I have just written that word. Before yesterday I would not have even thought it – much less write it.) But, once again, allow me to start at the beginning of the day's events.

Last night I had planned to go via the police station to work this morning. My plan was to explain the previous night's events and then organise the trap that I would spring when the kaffir arrived. Well, as unbelievable as this sounds, I somehow forgot to go to the police station and I found myself at my desk at work by the time I remembered. "Oh well," I thought, "I will just go after work." Throughout the day found my mind wandering and thinking back of the previous day's events. I felt my pussy grow wet as I recalled how his large hard black cock (oh my God, did I just write that?) slipped in and out of my pussy. These thoughts added to my lust, but greatly disturbed me. Was I supposed to have lustful feelings after being raped? By lunchtime, I needed some relief and I did something that I have never done (or even considered) at work before. I slipped into the ladies room, got rid of my soaked panties and then sat down in the toilet stall and preceded to masturbate. While I was rubbing my pussy, I closed my eyes and saw his black cock in front of me. I recalled the feeling of how it felt when it first slipped into me. I recalled the full feeling I had when he buried his cock to his balls in my pussy. Then, as I came, I recalled how it felt when his hot juices flooded my pussy.

By 16:00 I was to flustered to continue working. So I packed up and left work early. I practically ran home in order to get myself ready for this evening. I was undressing before I even had opened the front door. Then I had a shower, perfumed myself and put on some make-up. While I was putting on my scarlet red lipstick I stopped myself and asked myself what I was doing. I had still not phoned the cops and here I was preparing myself as if I was going on a date. Well, decided I, there would still be plenty of time to phone the cops. But whom was I kidding? My pussy was soaked at just the thought of that black cock pumping into my pussy.

At 18:00 the front door bell rang. I put on a nightgown over my naked body and went to answer the door. There he was and there, straining his trousers was the object that I had been fantasising about all day. He walked in after I had opened the door and walked straight through to the bedroom. When I got there, he started undressing. Soon he was standing naked in front of me. He had still not said a word to me. He then said: "Well do you want to fuck or are you just going to stand there?" I blushed at his crudeness, but found myself slipping the nightgown off until I was standing naked in front of him. By this stage he had laid down on the bed. He then growled: "Come here, you white slut." With that I came and sat down on his groin. I then took his hard black cock and slipped it into my pussy. I started riding his cock while he was playing with my tits. Soon I had my hand on my swollen clit and started playing with my clit as his hard cock was pumping into my pussy. After I had orgasmed at least three times I finally felt his cum flood my pussy. I was still lying there enjoying the afterglow when he shoved me off him, got dressed and left without saying a word.

Now, thinking back on the events of the evening I feel totally humiliated. He came in, used me and then left. There was no feeling coming from his part. I was only a convenient live white blow up doll with a convenient pussy that he could use, deposit his cum in and leave. And, to make things worse, he had me sitting on top, being the active one. What does that make me? Am I so pathetic that I have to rely on men to rape me and use me to get my kicks? And yet, even while I am writing this, my fingers are in my pussy and I am playing with his cum in my pussy while fervently hoping that he will come back. If that is all he wants, I will be his cum deposit box. The orgasms that I experienced tonight makes any experience, no matter how degrading seem worth it.

Day 3:

Dear Diary

Last night I had decided that, because of the wonderful orgasms I have, I would allow my visitor to use me as a fuck toy. This evening he took my humiliation to a whole new level.

Once again I was standing only in my nightgown when I opened the door. Once again he walked straight into my bedroom. This time I wanted to talk though since I had realised that I did not even know the name of the man that was fucking me. I therefore asked him. He told me that his name was not important, but that I should address him as baas. (For non South African readers: Baas: A Afrikaans term meaning master. In the Apartheid South Africa it was the term that white people expected blacks to address them as.) I was flustered when he told me this since there was no way that I, a proud white Afrikaans woman would degrade myself by calling a black man baas. I therefore did not answer him, but moved forward to get my plaything out of his pants and into my pussy. However, he stopped me and told me to ask for it.

I then said: "Please make love to me." He laughed at this and said that I would have to think of a better terminology before he would give me what I craved. I therefore said: "Please fuck me." This he said was better and after a couple of tries I eventually gave up and asked him what he wanted to hear: "Please baas, will you stuff your hard black cock into my white pussy." He then said that he would, provided I give him a blowjob first. This shocked me. Having a black cock in my pussy was one thing, but the thought of sucking one churned my stomach. He laughed as he saw my reaction and then said that if I wanted a fuck I would have to blow him first. I had only, once before in my life given a blowjob. This was an unpleasant experience and I had vowed never to do it again. However, by this stage I was desperate for a fuck and I therefore reluctantly dropped to me knees and tentatively stuck out my tongue and licked the tip of his cock.

Immediately my senses were assaulted by the taste of his pre cum and I pulled back. However, my Baas grabbed me by the back of the head and shoved his cock into my mouth. He then proceeded to fuck my mouth. As my cunt was no more a hole for his convenience yesterday, now my mouth was fulfilling the same role. I then felt his cock erupt in my mouth and my mouth get filled with his cum. I knew that spitting out his cum would not be well received, so I swallowed all that I could (even though some spilled out and ran down my tits). I then jumped up to go rinse the awful taste out of my mouth. He grabbed my by the hair and told me to stay. He then had me suck him until he was hard where after he fucked me. Even though I orgasmed twice, the feeling was not as pleasant as last night since I could still not get used to the salty taste of his cum in my mouth.

Over the last three days my baas (even though I still balk at using the term, it still somehow seems the best way to address the man who has given me so much pleasure) has found new ways to humiliate me every time I see him. After every experience though I find myself fantasying about what has happened to me. As I am writing this now, I wish I could just lay here and leisurely suck on his hard black cock. I would run my tongue up and down his cock, following the course of the veins on his cock before slipping his head into my mouth. I would then lick his helmet and then take more and more of his cock into my mouth. Then I would start jacking his cock in and out of my mouth and eventually feel him blast his cum into my mouth. Perhaps, as he does this I would pull his cock out of my mouth and allow him to blast his cum all over my face. Oh shit, I am so horny I will have to masturbate again before I will be able to sleep tonight. I have already cum twice since he has left. I am my baas' fuck toy and I could not be happier.

Day 4:

Dear Diary

Since the beginning of the week I have been living two lives. On the one hand, I have been the conservative white Afrikaans woman that would not even listen to a dirty joke – much less tell one. A woman, who in spite of one or two lapses in the past largely believed that sex belonged in the bonds of matrimony. However, in the past week another side of my personality has emerged. This side revealed a wanton white slut who craved a black man's cock and would undergo any humiliation in order to get it. I knew that I was living a lie, and that I could not continue being two people, but I hoped that the latter person was a temporary phenomenon and one that would soon disappear. Now, however, my baas has given me orders which would make the façade of the first person more difficult to maintain. This is what happened:

After fantasying all day about sucking my baas' cock, I could not start quick enough tonight. After I opened the door, I was on my knees and loosening his pants before he even had much chance to enter the door. This time I relished the taste of his pre-cum. It was not long before I was drinking down his cum. I then led him by the hand to my bedroom where I asked him to lay down on the bed. I then proceeded to do a striptease that had the desired effect since I could see the stirrings of his cock. After I had stripped I again went down on him and took his beloved cock back into my mouth and I soon had him hard again.

Up and until this stage I had taken the initiative and my baas had not humiliated me as he had done on previous days. I should therefore have not been surprised about his next instruction, but it still came as a shock. For he now said: "It is time that you get a cock up your ass, go fetch the Vaseline." As he said this, he pulled me by the hair off his cock. With shock I walked to the bathroom. I found the Vaseline and walked back to the bedroom. This could not be happening. This was unnatural. I would do anything, anything but this. However, my pleading did not help and all it resulted in was a slap across the face for questioning my baas. (Which, now, as I think back of it, I richly deserved.) He instructed me to rub Vaseline on my cock and then had me kneel down, and resting on my elbows rub the Vaseline on and into my asshole.

Then, to add insult to injury, he had me say: "Please baas, will you please fuck this worthless white bitch up the ass." When he entered my ass, I felt a burning painful feeling, in spite of the lubrication. Then he started easing his cock into my ass until I felt that he would split me into two. Then, slowly, he started easing in and out of me. While he was sodomising me, he had me play with my clit. However, he instructed me to bring myself to the edge, but not to come until he did. My dear diary, in order to illustrate how depraved I have become, I will now confess that when he did eventually come and squirt his cum into my bowels I had the orgasm of my life. Never before have I had such an intense orgasm. I think I may even had passed out, because the next thing I knew, his cock was out of my asshole and he was busy using my long blond hair to clean off the shit, blood and cum off his cock.

Then before he left, he gave me instructions that will force me to accept the slut that I am every minute of my day. The easier of the instructions to obey was for me to shave my cunt and to keep my pussy hairless. However, this and his following instructions have only left me feeling more exposed. For his next instruction was that I should only wear dresses and skirts, and that I was not to wear any underwear henceforth. I am dreading going to work tomorrow. How will I be able to face my colleagues at work if I know that my nipples will be poking into my blouse and my pussy is totally naked? And, this scares me even more, what if the South Easter wind is blowing in Cape Town tomorrow? With it blowing there is always the danger that it will lift a ladies dress or skirt. With me wearing neither panties not petticoats, the odds are there that all and sundry will see my naked pussy. If this happens, I will surely die of embarrassment.

Day 5:

Dear Diary

It was with much fear and trepidation that I left my house today. I have never felt so under-dressed. I was sure that everybody I walked passed knew that I was walking around without underwear. My new dress code had another effect though. With my pussy now shaven it was more sensitive. This and the lack of panties meant that I was continuously aware of how my pussy rubbed up against my skirt and this soon had me horny. My horniness had two unfortunate consequences though. Firstly it made me pussy wet, which meant that I feared that I would have a wet mark behind my skirt when I got up after sitting. The second consequence was that it made my nipples erect and in my braless state meant that I caught men staring at my breasts throughout the day.

At the end of the day, Paul invited me out for drinks. Paul, one of my colleagues at work was a hunk of a man and one that I had been hoping would notice me. Up to now he had been oblivious of my presence, but my erect nipples, or maybe my smell of arousal had him noticing me. Only a week ago I would have creamed my panties at such an invitation. Now however, I had decline since I wanted to get home to wait for my baas to arrive. I couldn't wait for the opportunity to suck on his black cock. Maybe he would again fuck me up the ass and give me one of those earth-shattering orgasms.

Alas, my dear diary, it was not to be. I sat around naked for my baas to arrive. However, now at the end of the evening I have to accept that this will not happen tonight. I feel so devastated. What will I do if he never comes back? How will I live without his black cock? Where will I find someone who will dominate and humiliate me in the manner in which he does? I have never felt so lonely in my life.

Day 6:

Dear Diary

I feel so depressed that I feel I can die. Today was Saturday and I sat around all day waiting for baas. I was too scared of leaving the house for a second since I was worried about what would happen if he came here in my absence. But, for the second day running he did not appear.

I do not know my baas' name, where he lives or any other information that may help me track him down. What am I going to do if he doesn't come back? Oh, my dearest diary, I am feeling so depressed that I don't even have the energy to write anymore.

Day 7:

Dear Diary