The Characters and situations in the story are ficticious and author cautions that the situations depicted may upset some readers. 

Bomatsu Msingu waved happily as he saw my Land Rover sweep round to the check point.

"Very good to see you Bwana, welcome" he shouted.

"How are we doing," I enquired as I stopped and climbed from the ageing vehicle.

"Very well Bwana, on target, your friends will be very happy."

Oxbridge Greening, my charity, bringing a sustainable future for farming in an area of central Africa where despair had overcome the population.

Organic farming, my way, no more tractors just the efforts of the local population.

"My cart Bomatsu. I wish to see the compound." I ordered, and he shouted to repeat my orders.

I saw the cart gleaming yellow and black in the sun, as they manhandled it from the shed, and Michele  quickly rounded up the fillies, a matching pair, he fixed the red white and blue imperial plumes to their head gear and stood back.

The fillies looked truly magnificent, each nearly five feet nine tall, matching green eyes, black manes, where their scalps had not been shaved, similar breasts, and matching perfect  little moist pink slits, I knew Katanga had been at work doing his corrective surgery because they had the marks of Onigestzu neck bands yet  Onigestzu tribe did ritual genital mutilation.

Their black breasts and darker nipples swung gently as they waited.

"They are ready Master,"

"Good then I shall mount them" I said, an unfortunate choice of phrase.

"Bwana, please, I am not a slaver." he looked scared but he relaxed when he saw me smiling.

"They are very fine, are they new?"

"Yes Bwana, Onigestzu tribe, we have only recently broken them, they are still frisky, but I can manage them now."

Onigestzu, the proud tribe who had spurned my overtures was it two years ago, now reduced to selling their finest, or were their women escaping death by starvation by escaping to our utopia?

"Is that the chiefs daughter?"

"Yes Bwana, she cost twenty five thousand million"

I did a quick sum, Twenty seven pounds, plus Katanga's time, but probably worth it.

Michele quickly harnessed the pair to the light two wheeled cart and the stood still waiting, brooding defiant.

"They look pretty well trained" I commended.

"She Kicks. that one, does not like being mounted"

"Shall we put her in a box, Michele, chop her legs right off," her look of hatred turned to fear.  "Or will she bend now and let you practise?"

She stood shaking,

"This is wasting time lets get going." I announced impatiently.

She looked relieved as much as she could with a bit in her mouth and the harness over her head and as Bomatsu and I swung aboard the pair started and trotted towards the river.

The bridge was very lightly built, deliberately so, no Landrover or Toyota could get across, and the rainy season Crocodiles were a real deterrent to anyone risking it.

The pair trotted well, equal pace equal strides, we passed a skeleton, picked clean by buzzards, "Any one we know?"

"Inagnu tribe, very proud." he suggested, "refused our terms, taken by Hyena."

"Terrible waste." I agreed.

The Compound loomed in front of us, the three feeding stations prominent by the sleeping shed, and I spotted a ploughing team working dragging the heavy plough through the stony ground,

"Inagnu?" I queried.

"No Onigestzu, look at them, they stole my forefather's land, now look at them."

They looked magnificent, their great manly chests straining against the leather straps, as they strained under the hot sun with sweat pouring from them.

I thanked the fillies, not knowing if they understood English and went through the door to the inner courtyard and Katanga's workshop, or was it surgery.

Katanga, our little Japanese surgeon, had been struck off as a surgeon in the States for doing work for the "Family" who ran Miami, amputating sound limbs from people without anaesthetic was frowned upon there but he was the ideal guy for my operation

.He was hard at work on an Onigestzu male, malnourished, broken, beaten barely alive,he had agreed terms and was waiting his fate.

"This is Abraham, he was an educated man, but now," said Katanga, as he forced Abrahams mouth open to reveal the truncated stub of his tongue, and pointed to the stumps of his forearms where his hands had been amputated, "Now he can no longer read and write, at least not read out loud."

I chuckled, our collections to help the poor and mutilated and illiterate to introduce organic farming, the students collecting in the streets of the university towns, how would the react if they saw us taking educated people and ensuring they could no longer write, before allowing them to eat and take part in our great farming experiment.

The system was very simple, our feeder had its controls down narrow tubes, too small to take a human hand but large enough to take a trimmed down forearm ending at a amputated wrist, both controls needed to be pushed down so we offered an amputation service, and starvation is a potent form of persuasion, as are the marauding Hyenas.

Katanga had done the hands and tongue earlier and was now finishing up the dehumanisation, with the lower body parts.

The man was strapped to a solid oak post with his arms by his sides and a heavy Iron work table had been brought up to touch his thighs,  Katanga took the mans penis and as he looked on horrified Katanga stretched the loose skin out away down the table top towards a spike poking up from the table, he gently pushed the loose skin onto the spike before taking a hollow tube and pressing it down to force the spike through the soft skin of the Penis.

Katanga took a small hammer and tapped the hollow tube, it sank to the table top trapping the flaccid  penis over the spike.

A great howling scream rent the air as the man realised what was happening but Katanga forced a rag into his mouth, silencing him.

Katanga gently fished the mans testicles on to the table top, pushing it back against his legs slightly and then he took a piece of wood and the hammer and after carefully lining everything up tapped the wood firmly, the firm egg shape of the testicle collapsed to a shapeless mass as he found the second testicle and proceeded to squash that into a useless lump of gristle.

"One more thing for now" Katanga grinned as he lifted the upper part of the Oak post and removed it allowing the man to flop forward. "You will like this." 

He took a heavy spike and rested it against the mans anus, the tip just parting the black lips and then when he was sure it was lined up right he hit it firmly with a seven pound Lump hammer.

The shaft was at least four inches , that's 100 mm in diameter but he kept rhythmically hitting the end until nearly eight inches of it was inside the mans backside.

He had passed out, and as Katanga withdrew the spike blood and faeces dripped and plopped on the floor.

"He will be broken if he comes round, if not, then Mr Hyena has easy meal."

"Excellent Mr Katanga, but I prefer ladies." I told him.

"Yes sir we have some prime black ass for you, come."

He abandoned his "Patient" and led me to a room full of cages.

"Onigestzu women, all healed after I straightened their cunts, they mutilate them to stop them fucking for pleasure, perhaps I keep one for a prostitute."

"What is the difference between field and prostitute?

"I do surgery, cut away the bladder so they have to keep pissing and spike the ass so they shit when they need not when they want like animals, and of course I amputate the hands.

"And Prostitute?"

"Collars and chains, riveted on with hot rivets, bugger of a job to remove, oh and I take the teeth out so they suck nicer. and we sell some to the Nigerian traders and they like the hands and feet amputated stops them running away."

I looked down the row, a small brown girl peered at me in terror.

"I thought you would like her." he said.

"Yes, I told him,"what about milk?"

"Any can be milkers we let the Hyenas take the babies after we smash their brains, do you want to make her a milker."

I looked at her undersize tits.

"Get a rope, lets give her tits." I suggested.

He fetched the rope and wound it around and around each breast in turn, she did not dare struggle or protest, then the loose end went around her arms and waist and finally the loose ends were fed into a Butt plug and slid up her ass.

Her little black breasts strained and I saw a strange blue tinge.

"You're beautiful." I told her as I forced my index finger into her, knowing the signet ring must scrape and abrade her soft vaginal walls. "So nothing to say."

"You too are beautiful Bwana, it would be the proudest moment of my life if you were to use me Bwana."

"Let her out" I ordered and as she climbed from the cage I dropped my shorts, lifted her up and slid her down onto my prick.

"Thank you Bwana." she said prettily, as I bounced her and down. "Oh, you're so good Bwana fill me with your, Aaaggghh."

My prick was pumping, she was perfect, I knew we should keep her.

"Have her collared and set to work in the kitchens, then get some weights on those tits, I want then dragging the ground next time I come." I ordered .

I went to see the female quarters, their shed partly full they stood around, silently, some gagged with a harness and bit, some without tongues, but all with heads shaved except a small mane, all harnessed, and all their hands amputated. all hope gone. They stared at me, some paired off, thrusting their stumps up each other's vaginas, exciting each other to easy orgasm, but they were animals, shit dropping uncontrollably where ever they stood even piss flowing as they aroused each other, all altered, all mutilated  by Mr Katanga.

I went to see the males and little Adam Minbotu proudly showed me their party piece.

The twenty male ploughing team, the lead men both castrated bent over as Adam gave the order "Bend", then as he shouted "One" the next male in line placed his rampant penis against the lead males anus and as Adam shouted "In" he forced his penis in side the males ass. Adam ordered Two and In, and the next pair entered the pair in front and then Three, and on until two rows of ten all shackled were engaged, then the mexican wave, the back one thrust in then the next then the next, then back out, "The record is ten,"  said Adam proudly, "Like Guantanamo Bay" he continued then "Oh number four has disengaged," he took his stick with like a shepherds crook on the end and and guided it into fives ass hole.

He showed me the stick."Not a barge pole," was burned into the shaft.

I laughed, I wouldn't touch one with a barge pole either.

I almost threw up at the thought.

They had a meal for me, roast meat, Giraffe perhaps, and vegetables and Yorkshire pudding, the cook was in a defiant mood, safe in the knowledge she was immune from the  mutilation because she was Buzumuto tribe from the North.

I sat down to eat, the meat looked awful and the gravy was congealed into solid lumps, "Cook, you cooked it, you eat it, I ordered," Her ugly fat black face fell.

" I cannot eat foreign food it gives me the shits" she complained.

"Nor can I because you have cooked it like shit, get that girl I fucked," I yelled as I threw the plate on the floor and even the tame Hyena cub scuttled away, afraid to try it.

They fetched the girl from earlier, I saw she now wore a stout Iron collar riveted in place, with a heavy chain and her nipples were freshly pierced with copper rings neatly soldered in place,  Katanga  came with her  "I  wanted to to the clitoris as well, but you called her."

"Yes, you are the new cook, cook me something."

"What Bwana?"

"How about her?" I pointed at the old cook, she stood there in her filthy checkered shirt and brown skirt.

"She is not dead."

"I see that,"

"I cannot kill."

"Even for a better life, cooking, with your hands, is her life worth your hands."

"No Bwana."

"Then take this gun." I reached a Winchester Carbine down from the wall and handed it to her.

Her fingers trembled, "Between the eyes." I suggested.

Bang, the gun fired but she missed, the bullet smashing the left eye socket and taking part of the skull but the old one stayed alive, screaming.

I took the gun and pushed another slug into the chamber, then I sat the girl on my lap and held her tight as she took the gun  again and this time there was no mistake.

I felt something damp on my leg, I touched it with my fingers and realised it had come from her, juice was leaking from her.

"I suggest you learn to cook, very quickly, do you read?"

"Yes Bwana"

"Then use the cookery book and learn to make Yorkshire pudding, I eat it with meat, practise until you perfect it."

The evening passed with the tedium of paperwork and later after she brought me a tasty meat pie and bowl of mixed fruits my little cook provided pleasant entertainment with her tight cunt and ass and her succulent little mouth.

I let her stay with me all night.

Next morning as the sun was rising and Minuto Umbali and Gregor Mslingu were on duty at the check point, when they saw a vehicle creeping along the eastern boundary, a Jeep Patriot, with satellite communication dishes, and the unmistakable Prime TV company logo of Suzie Craig's African Documentaries of prime time TV fame.

Susan Craig, bronzed champagne swilling fresh young thing, champion of equality, living with the tribes in their hovels, at least long enough to get some film in the can, before returning to her air conditioned luxury.  I remembered when she booked the entire restaurant at Giselle so she could enjoy a quiet meal, and my booking was cancelled as a result, making me look real stupid, and now she was checking out my charity operation.

They radioed in and I suggested they go to ground and allow the truck to head for the compound,

We watched through binoculars from the water tower as the Jeep came through the check point and set off down the track, they never thought about the bridge, unaware that the centre struts and wheel troughs needed to be fitted before anything heavier than a light cart crossed and we watched as the decking collapsed sending the truck into the ravine.

We walked towards the wreck, there was no hurry, it was a mile or so and as we arrived they were sorting out equipment, their Jeep Patriot upright but a mass of white powder where the airbags had gone off.

Susan Craig stood at the edge of the ravine glaring at me.

"I suppose you think that's funny, I could have been killed." she taunted.

"Hello, I'm Steve Robertson of Oxbridge Greening, welcome to project zone three."

I replied politely.

"Project zone, more like a Concentration Camp or Zoo, you and your charity are evil Robertson, evil.

She stood defiant like a bronzed symbol of white supremacy yet at every opportunity she corroded and eroded the stature of her own people while ignoring the rampant corruption and inter tribal violence of the natives.

"Are you injured?" I enquired.

  

    

   

Bomatsu Msingu

Oxbridge Greening

Katanga

Onigestzu tribe. Onigestzu neck bands

Adam Minbotu.

Buzumuto tribe

Abraham.

"Inagnu tribe, very proud."

The Characters and situations in the story are ficticious and author cautions that the situations depicted may upset some readers. 

"You're pure evil." Susan Craig, star of Prime TV's African documentaries spat the words at me. as she climbed from the ravine where her Jeep lay smashed on the dry river bed.

"We have footage of all the terrible mutilations you have done, you are finished, you will be thrown in Jail, the moment you get back to the Capital, that's if you get that far."

"Fine, yes, perhaps I am evil, but you didn't have had time to send you report so nobody knows, do they."

"We sent some." she lied.

"I don't think so." I told her, "You needed to set up the satellite dish, and I see it is smashed."

Her glance of hatred showed I was right.  "Kimba, shoot those three, Adam, bring the bitch, oh and Mbuto, burn the truck."

"No you can't do that, what about my things, my computer the cameras, my clothes," she whined. I grinned inwardly, I had ordered her minder, driver and camera man killed and the bitch moaned about her clothes.

The three men stood stock still in stunned disbelief, then as the first of the three shots rang out  the survivors turned to run, but it was too late, the ravine was shallow but they were trapped.  Kimba hated the northern Tribes and he made no mistake, one bullet each and they fell full length dead.  I watched as Kimba pulled the dead bodies back to the truck and he and Mbuto lifted them back into their seats before Mbuto poured a 5 litre can of oil over their bodies and lit a bundle of rag with his cigarette lighter and threw it in with them, the vehicle ignited with a whooph..

Three head shots, Kimba was getting better, "Well done" I shouted and he beamed with pleasure.

"Oh yes, strip her and burn her clothes, I nearly forgot." Her evil looks reached a new level of hatred and she looked for an escape route but there was none as Adam advanced toward her;  She screamed beautifully as Adam took his tribal Himukabi, or big knife and sliced her safari jacket from top to bottom, then hooked his stick in her blouse and tore the back out of that before pulling her bra up over her head with the stick.

The stick grazed her back drawing blood and she yelped and protested as he cut the gusset out of her shorts before pulling her panties down, then two more slashes of the knife and she stood naked.

I had seen her on TV loads of times but never realised what great little tits she had, and a flat firm belly and nice legs, even her face was not that ugly, and she was a selfish bitch with spirit. Mmmm yummy.  The sort of woman who used to be the girl who sneered at me when I struggled to get through university.

I had to turn away from her to sort my prick out it was straining down my trouser leg in a most awkward manner. "Shoes" I reminded them, and Adam sliced the straps on her sandals and she quickly removed her long socks as he threatened to cut her legs as he cut them off as well.

She stood in silent rage as Adam scooped her clothes up and walked away with them, strolling towards the pall of smoke and blazing fire that once was her Jeep Patriot,  he protected his face from the heat as he threw the clothes onto the flames and then beat a retreat, afraid the vehicle would explode yet conversely afraid to show that fear, the dead guards and driver sizzled nicely in the fierce heat, tormenting the chained males of the plough team whose tribe were once cannibals with thoughts of a tasty meal.

She looked totally shocked, standing alone now naked "What are you going to do to me, will you kill me in cold blood too?" she asked.

"If you ask nicely, perhaps, but I'll let you decide," I said, "lets have a look round."   She walked awkwardly, unused to being barefoot and naked. but she seemed to need to stay by me.

I took her to see the ploughing gang, the hard ground and stones hurt her feet, I was tempted to pick her up, but the bitch needed to descend to her place at the very bottom of my little utopian society in an orderly way, kindness would be cruel, at this stage.

We stood by the edge of the ploughed ground, waiting for the plough, she stood on one leg looking at the cuts and abrasion to each of her filthy feet in turn, "Do you like the native ways, barefoot and naked?" I asked.

"Fuck you" she insisted.

"The TV footage, living the native life, in your designer boots and safari suit as the blacks wore grass skirts and went barefoot. I bet you ate those space rations, and drank bottled water." I teased her.

"So what if I did, I don't want to go blind like the natives, I'm trying to improve their lives by showing the world their plight."

"And getting famous and rich?"

She nodded, and a tear dripped down her cheek.

"You blew it, you should never have tried to expose me, because, I have exposed you instead, look here they come."

The team were coming over the slight rise in what appeared to be the level veld, their chests glistening.

"God what have you done to them?" she asked, the intense fear apparent in her voice.

She was staring at the leader of the left rank, his blackened rotting useless prick hung limply hanging by a small flap of skin, the sinue already gone, the testes also missing just an obscene septic wound where once his proud manhood had reared.

"Yeah, he has a degree in sociology and the other leader was a teacher, the rule is leaders are castrated, the right had it done neatly by my surgeon, the other by his minder when he could not control his emissions." I tried to make small talk..

She leaned forward, grasped her knees with her hands and threw up.

"You could try asking him how he feels, but I guess he won't answer as I had his tongue cut out," I continued.

She appeared to go green as she threw up again.

"Are you ok" I asked in mock sympathy, she just gawped at me.

"They do a wonderful thing, they all fuck each other, the whole lot, each fucks the ass of the one in front, both teams, two lots of ten, synchronised buggery, that would make great TV."

She tried to be sick again but her guts were empty.

"They can't escape, look at their hands." I told her.

"They d'don't h'have any." she stuttered.

"Thats right." I agreed, "I'll have Mr Katanga show you how it's done."

"Why,?" she almost whispered.

"Ah, the charity rules say the aid is for the illiterate, if they can write they are literate, if they read they are literate, so we remove the hands and then they cannot then write, so we help them."

"Oh god you blind them," she sank to her knees.

"No, no, we could of course but tearing the tongue out prevents them reading out loud, and I believe most prefer to see rather than talk, perhaps you disagree?"

She held her head in her hands, kneeling on the hard ground.

"Oh god, no." she moaned.

"I'll show you," I promised, I started to walk back towards the compound, "watch out for the Hyenas, if  you decide to walk out of here" I suggested and she started to follow me to captivity.

"I'll let you decide what you want to do," I suggested, "Come see the options."

She padded slowly behind me, I looked at her she looked so out of place, her pink boobs, the black curls of pubic hair, and the multiple folds of her ugly baggy labia. "Your cunt's ugly, I thought you TV bitches had your surgeon pretty you up. down there."

She slapped me, "Bastard!" she exclaimed, the sobbed again.

"Nice tits though." I sought to cheer her up, but she glared at me again.

"W'where, how, the men," she asked, as curiosity overcame her.

I saw a ploughing team approaching the male feeder  "Look" I suggested, as they filed  along with the troughs between them, still chained and turned on the order and bent and started to feed.

"I designed it, suspended from above so their chains pass underneath where you would expect supports. the water and grain flow down, it's all automatic, they put their stumps in the tubes and press both plungers the left fully and the right lightly and down comes the food, left lightly and right fully the water fills, clean water. remove the pressure and the drain opens and recycles the waste."   She did not look too impressed.

"God, don't you release them to feed even." she asked.

"No, they are riveted in to the collars, the team lives as a team, sometimes one is ill and is replaced, but it is a big operation"

"W'what about washing,"

"What washing?"

"Or."

"Yes what?"

"Toilet."

"We dehumanise them, we have a spike, Katanga inserts it up the anus, stretches the spinchter, destroys the muscles so they shit as they work, like animals, fertilising the fields as they plough.

She tried to throw up again, but nothing remained.

"W'what about the Women." she asked.

"Yes, of course. we have females, not for ploughing but lighter duties, communications, the carts, and for the guards comfort, cooks that sort of thing. come see."

She followed me into the compound, "We have prostitutes through there, Katanga's workshop, I mean surgery is there, and the womens quarters here, come through, watch the shit, and the kitchens are there, and here is the female feeder."

She stared at the simple trough and the water fountain.

"Put your arms down the tubes and push and the meal comes down into the trough." I told her.

She tried but the tubes were too small. "My hands will not fit."

"Then don't eat."

"Oh, oh god, the hands; that's what you do, you starve them until they agree to have their hands amputated!"

"Yes, I think a week should do it, in your case."

"No, not me, I'm white, you can't"

"You, the great egalitarian, saying you can't, I'm white you should be ashamed."

Her mouth gaped in amazement.

"Is there nothing else," she asked, "I have money, friends, influence, I can get things, do things. surely I am more use to you as a woman than a beast."

"I have plenty of money, would you prefer to take your chance with the Hyenas, or perhaps you will beg for a bullet in the brain, anyway you now too much, you see the options you decide."

She sat down, "What exactly are my options," she asked.

"Well, you are not cook material, so it looks like pulling a cart or something but your skin will burn, perhaps you could work the well capstan thats indoors."

"You seriously expect me to agree to my hands being amputated?"

"And tongue torn out, and your spinchter muscles destroyed" I corrected, "unless you do the Capstan where you can retain bowel control."

"No, you can't be serious."

"Yes, there is no food or clean water for you otherwise."

"You said you have prostitutes." she asked hopefully.

"Why yes,"

"Are they mutillated."

"Oh no collared, cuffed, ankle irons, pierced, but otherwise whole"

"Can I be," she paused, "do that,"

"Are you Susie Craig, TV star, begging to be allowed to work as an unpaid prostitute?"

She nodded tearfully.

"To be chained up and used by any and everybody, risking aids, venereal disease, all that?

She sobbed and nodded.

"Two hours after arrival you go from TV star to common whore."

She nodded, " I don't want to die."

"Perhaps you will audition, for the post."

"Oh god, what do I have to do?."

"Don't worry, the job's yours."

I took her to Katanga,

"Cuffing please Mr Katanga." I asked, he gave me a quizzical look but he soon selected a suitable size for her neck and wrist cuffs, and he shouted out for Bomatsu Msingu to assist him, they heated chain links with a gas torch until they glowed amber and attached the cuffs to the collar, welding the links tight, then they fitted the collar and cuffs.

They heated rivets with a gas torch till they glowed white then slipped them through the holes in the halves of the collar,with long insulated tongs, their skill and a thin sheet of asbestos protected her from the searing heat as Bomatsu wielded the hammer with the expertise gained though weeks of regular practise.

They quenched the heat by throwing a bucket of water over the collar, then they attached the ankle and wrist cuffs, riveted with the white hot rivets and quenched the hat by thrusting her hands and the cuffs into the water bucket where the hot iron sizzled.

"There, does it feel real now," I asked.

She just stared at her wrists.

"We will have her cunt tidied up I think, Katanga."

"No, oh, god no,"

"Do you want anaesthetic?" I asked.

"Yes of course, but why, what is wrong?"

"All those folds and flaps, yuck," I replied and then I shouted "She said yes Katanga."

I left her chained in the surgery over night.

That evening I ate some Giraffe and Yorkshire pudding and talked to Katanga, about home and things and girls and life, and around two in the morning we decided to let Katanga have a little play with her, he always wanted to try IVF, and when you looked at it she was not bad breeding stock.

I never did fuck Susie that day, instead my interest wandered to Imuba the warm willing little Inagu Tribe  girl who was our latest freshest little prostitute. Imuba was such a total slut we did not even bother to chain her up, she was always looking for men to fuck her, the others sneaked and hid in dark corners but not Imuba.

She came up to me and nuzzled up against me, looking up with those big dark eyes almost begging for it, how could I resist, I carried her away to my room, laying her on the bed and as I threw my clothes off she was already showing how wet she was by sliding her thumb in and out of her perfect little slit.

I recognised Katanga's handiwork and on close inspection I noticed the tiny scarring, I resisted the temptation to kiss or lick her, fearful she might be diseased, but I quickly slid on a Durex condom and slid effortlessly into that tight warm haven, she was deliciously light and so I picked her up and walked round the room. to look around the courtyard as I fucked her, her legs wrapped firmly around me. her firm tits digging in my chest, and her experienced cunt muscles pulsing milking my cum from me.

I told her to wake me next morning, with a fuck.

She was a good girl, she did not wake me but I woke early and waited with a Durex handy and a boner, and she simply climbed aboard and fucked like a real pro.

I thanked her and went to find Susan.

"I need a drink you bastard." she swore.

"You agreed to be a prostitute, so you can drink your fill."

"For pities sake," she said but she knew her position was hopeless.

" I already made arrangements to throw in corrective surgery to give you a designer cunt ." I added. "Oh and I return to the Capital tomorrow, so the blacks will be in charge of you then".

"Oh god, all right, but I keep my hands, you promised."

"Hold your cunt open then, that is the display position, reach through from behind," I watched as she stretched her enormous lower lips open, and praised her "thats it. that's what you need hands for."

She looked wonderfully broken humiliated, I knew she hated the thought of me fucking her, but she had no other option.

"I'm not on the pill."

"No we breed our prostitutes, the milk is highly prized, don't worry."

I went to the kitchen and brought a pint glass of cold lemonade.

"Here, drink."

She sobbed once more then as she set the glass down I led her to Katanga's surgery.

She sat on his operating bench as he gave her an injection, and she soon became drowsy, eventually becoming unconscious as I left the room.

I did some admin work then Katanga sent a messenger around, "Can Mr Katanga have some fresh spunk please?"

It was a late night booze fuelled joke which led Katanga to suggest he practiced IVF on her, and he suggested he should use white spunk, which meant mine unless you count his Japapanese cum as white, but sending fresh warm spunk was no problem with a willing wench like Imuba hanging round, showing off, fingering herself, thrusting her tits out and doing everything she could think of to try to get me to fuck her again? No it was no hardship.

I called Imuba in, her sleek little vagina slid straight down over my Condom clad tool and again I lifted her and walked around, and this time crossed the courtyard, I felt a fool when I realised I had no trousers on but everyone was grinning and Imuba seemed real pleased that I had chosen to fuck her, we had no common language, she spoke no English and I no Inagu but that did not seem to matter.

Susan was out of it when I arrived, I whipped off the Condom as soon as I pulled out of Omubna's little black cunt, and Katanga took it away to a back room.

That's how I left our little community, I had to return to the serious business of charity work, arranging bribes for senior civil servants, then blackmailing them! swapping grain for drugs and drugs for guns, the usual stuff, and of course sending home gaudy tribal artifacts in solid gold filled with diamonds.

The fillies sped me to the weak little bridge to the guard room and entry barrier, all evidence of the burnt out jeep now removed, and I set off north in the Old Landrover again, just my guards Nathan and Maurice, and the antique Vickers machine gun, and our rifles and hand grenades  for protection.

Steve Robertson

Bomatsu Msingu

Oxbridge Greening

Katanga

Onigestzu tribe. Onigestzu neck bands

Adam Minbotu.

Buzumuto tribe

Abraham.

"Inagnu tribe, very proud."

Project Zone 3pt 3

The bright lights of capital were the perfect antidote to the filth and dirt of the countryside, there was speculation around Susan Craig's latest project, rumours that she had slipped back to the States for a holiday, but few people seemed bothered.

I took a short break in Hong Kong, flew home via our South American project and landed at Gatwick in a hail storm.

Mother had sorted out my tribal artefacts, there were about eight million pounds worth of Gold and Diamonds in her Garden Shed and her friend Mrs Cunningham had seen them and offered her fifty quid for one.

It took a week to sort thing out, then the bloody escort I hired to pose as my girlfriend got greedy and demanded an extra thousand for Sunday Lunchtime, mind you she earned it when she managed to eat mother's version of Roast Beef.

She was called Samantha and wanted to be an actress, she said she wanted larger boobs, she really needed a brain transplant. She fucked like a blow up doll full of sand, and chattered and name dropped constantly even when having sex, and of course as I was staying with Mother she could not stay the night and I had to take her home each evening.

I spent a fortnight touring and fundraising, and an eager undergraduate named Claire followed me north from Cambridge like some eager puppy, but youthful curiosity is no match for the pleasure an experienced woman can provide, and I found teaching her the art of love to be tedious, but she was so nice that I just had to be nice to her in turn.

I was watching the TV news one evening as I licked her freshly shaved mound

when she asked if I wanted kids.

"I guess, why?" I asked.

"I mean with me."

"Oh, perhaps, perhaps when you get a career, but you are so young, and I have to return to Africa," I lied convincingly, but I remembered the loose ends and decided to return to Africa to tidy them up.

Charity affairs move slowly and it was ten months after leaving my friends at Project Zone Three that I returned.

The same faces greeted me at the Checkpoint,  Bomatsu, Adam, Mr Katanga, yet many of the familiar slave faces of the compound had gone.

"Where are they?" I asked  "Imuba, the Cook, Miss Craig."

"Imuba went, Simba Nikkola sold her to Nigerians," said a northerner I did not know.

"On ebay" said Ignatious Obmanba. and they all laughed.

"We need to do a clear up, questions are being asked, do you understand?" I impressed on them.

"Yes Boss." Botsamu answered, How we going to do it Boss?"

"Get all the teams, everyone, all the castrates and amputees, anyone not one of us, in the compound, then throw in a grenade." I suggested

"And the white woman?" Mr Katanga queried.

"What?" |I didn't understand.

"The reporter, Craig,  she had two children, boy and girl." he said

"Fucking hell Katanga, don't tell me they're mine."

"Yes, the IVF worked Mr Robertson, are you angry?"

"Fucking hell, I thought it was a joke, after all the failures." I had to sit down, it was all ok up until then, but now it had got too personal, "take me to her, uh them,uh her."

"I sent the babies to the Capital, said they were dumped on our doorstep." Katanga admitted

They took me in the truck, as far as the patched up bridge and the Landcruiser came to take us the last lap to the compound. I struggled with the enormity of what they had said, finding it unbelievable that Miss Craig could survive so long as a slave and prostitute in the appalling conditions of her captivity.

Katanga led me to Susan.,

She was chained up, filthy, she reminded me of a race horse, lithe and athletic, not an ounce of spare fat, her ribs clearly visible, her belly flat again yet crossed with livid red stretch marks. Her left leg and arm chained to one wall and the right limbs to the other so she could not even move all round her former stable, she was brown covered in dirt so completely she would have passed for a pale Mebuno tribe girl apart from her narrow nose, her straw was filthy and there was a pile of her shit in a corner, her hair was matted and she was covered in sores. most dramatically someone had sewn her eyelids shut. 

"She is only prostitute we have now, so I blinded her" Katanga admitted.

"Blinded?"

"The Lids, oh a week or so after you went, I sewed her eyelids, her eyes were fine."

"Susan?" I said softly.

"Ear plugs, pull them out if you want." Katanga suggested, "here let me."

She spun round as he pulled the plugs from her ears, I saw she could not raise her arms enough to do it herself.

"Hi Susan, its Steve Robertson, from Oxbridge Greening, I have come to kill you." I said softly.

She nodded. "Oh please, just do it."

"What!" I exclaimed.

"Please." she said again. "They killed my babies, I want, to die."

"Do you want to do anything before you die, see the sun set over San Francisco bay, shop in Paris, spend a wet afternoon in an Hotel in Arbroath." I joked feebly.

"I'm blind." she said, "Kill me."

"Imagine spending an afternoon in bed in Arbroath, wind howling, sending the rain splattering the windows, while the Fishermen queue outside to pay their five pounds each to screw you."  I explained.

"No." she said shaking her head.

"Leave us alone would you." I asked Katanga and the others. The drifted away leaving us alone.

"So you never saw the babies?" I asked,  she shook her head, but somehow that composure arrogance almost resurfaced.

"I never knew," she said "they blinded me, gouged my eyes out you see, and deafened me and chained me, then they came in the night,it was always night, and there were men and their penises, in every hole Mr Robertson, in my Vagina, and Anus and in my mouth as well, is that what you want to hear you pervert?" she didn't wait for an answer.

"Pumping their filth in me," she continued, "in my mouth, in my hair over my face, in my backside, over my tits, up my vagina, up my snatch, up my cunt in my mouth."

"You said mouth twice," I reminded her, "but no I saw all that, I'm just surprised you survived," I said, "You must be immensely strong mentally Susan." I said quietly.

"Bollocks," she said, "I didn't want to survive, not when I went blind."

"I had no idea they blinded you," I admitted, "but the sex, well I saw a good floor show where the sluts did just that in the Capital the night before last.

"Then I was pregnant and they kept coming," She gushed as she stood incongruously," even when the baby was coming, someone was trying to make me suck them off."

"So you want to die?." I asked, she nodded. "Not come home to England to a nice retreat where they can sort your head out?, after your ordeal.?" I taunted her.

"Please don't torment me Mr Robertson," she pleaded.

"Do you want to come to England with me?" I asked again.

"Yes, I'll do anything literally anything, to go home to England." she promised.

I pulled my cam-corder from my bag.

"I'll get you to do a piece to camera," I told her, "Just an intro, something about how you feel waiting to be gang raped with the prospect of being killed later this evening."

"What!" she screamed.

"I want three volunteers, Ass man, Cunt man, Mouth man and you will be in the movies," I addressed the men, "I want you in shorts, you come in, see her, whip the shorts off and then start fucking, you will have to work out the positions when you start, all right?"

There was a murmur of discussion then Bomatsu Msingu, Alois Nimba and Fred Unitami had agreed their positions. They filed from the room.

"I should shout help!" I suggested to her, but I was fascinated to see the way her nipples hardened and the moisture glistened among the dust and shit around her cunt.

"Action" I shouted

As if a switch had been turned, the broken fearful filthy slut changed back to her on screen persona and she started  "Susie Craig, Prime TV somewhere in Africa, as you see I have been chained up, for several months, the blacks use me as their sex object whenever they want, constantly, finding me irresistible, the lone white goddess, so much so that they neglect their own women."

Bomatsu and the others came in, I panned to then as they dropped their shorts.

"I hear them, smell them, feel them, they are probing, they like to take the moisture from my pussy to help them slip up my ass, yes look, they are wetting heir fingers and pushing them in my ass."  Her performance was worth an Oscar.

"I feel a penis, against my bottom, oh god here he goes ahhhhh, its in, not to bad, a medium one, oh they are lifting me and Oohhhh, there is a big cock sliding up my pussy, can you see viewers, my feet are right off the ground and its wonderful, I mean its horrible and humiliating and its."   Fred grabbed her jaw and pulled her toward his Penis, they fell in a heap, on their sides and then as she gasped he knelt over her and shoved his penis deep down her throat.

I watched her muscles rippling as she milked those pricks, panning in onto the action and then one by one they pulled out and shot their loads over her lower back, Tummy and finally her face, the cum sliding down leaving a pink trail as it washed the shit away.

She lay quiet. "Its over for now, three blacks satisfied, they will feed me now, and then they will come again, Susie Craig, Prime TV, Africa."

I held the shot of the cum dripping down her nose from her forehead panned across her belly and back to the three flaccid black cocks and shouted "cut."

"What's all this about a lone white goddess, you should look at yourself." I observed.

But she was licking the cum from her chin with her long tongue.

"What?" she said dreamily.

"She is satisfied Bwana." someone observed. "Let her sleep."

"Was the take all right?" she asked hopefully.

"Fine, look." I said showing her the camcorder screen, "Oh sorry you cant!"

"Anyway," I continued,  "Well done, I'll do some more later but you stink, get a bath and be in my bed at midnight."

"What?"

"You heard."

I gave the order and Fred Unitami collected his big sledge hammer and a chisel and as she cowered in fear he broke her chains and led her to his workshop.

I watched in awe as he set up bits of rusty metal to act as shields to deflect the white hot slivers of metal and then took his industrial angle grinder and started to cut away the rivet heads from her manacles.

The sparks flew yellow, red and gold, in the shade of the workshop and as the pieces of chain fell away one by one her roughly manhandled her to different positions until finally, he announced "All done!" 

She looked terrified, too afraid to move. I gave orders.

"Take her to my room and send in all the lads who fucked her one at a time, I want to make a porno movie."

She realised her change of fortune was a cruel joke, and cried, as I lifted her and carried her into the former Colonial mansion which housed the quarters I used, where I laid her in my private bath.

She heard the water. "Will you drown me?" she asked.

"Perhaps," I said "but you can't expect me to fuck you when you smell like that."

The water rose steadily, river water, evil stuff only partially filtered still full of nasty microbes, but ok for washing when you added a whole jar of bath salts.

"Your hands are soft." she said as I splashed water over her face, "Why are you doing this for me."

"So you fuck nicer I guess, it's not as if there is anyone else is it?"

"No," she agreed.

I helped her dry herself, made her gargle with my mint mouthwash, and then carried her to the bedroom.

I set up the camcorder and called the guys in.

Adam came first, slipping off his shorts to reveal white Y fronts which he discarded as I filmed, he climbed on the bed, eased her legs apart and speared into her sadly stretched cunt, all Katangas handiwork destroyed by the emergence of two babies heads, yet her tummy was already smooth again.

She tried to remain impassive, but the soft bed must have felt wonderful because she started humming something dreamily and cried out as he pumped his cream into her. Bomatsu Msingu  and his brother Harwich, were next, then some guys whose names I could not remember and then Alois Nimba, and Fred Unitami, and Bogman Umkuba, he turned her over and took her anus but they kept coming and cumming, and I kept filming, I'm no Sam Mendez or Alfred Hitchcock, and the films were not broadcast quality but they would be shown round the world nonetheless.

She finished around two thirty, I took her to the bathroom, I had to almost carry her and I made her wash all the filth from her, then I made her gargle, and use the perfume I had bought her, and I carried her back to the bedroom, I changed the sheets as she sat idly by and  finally I picked her up and laid her on the bed, covering her with the sheet and duvet, and climbed in with her.

"Umm soft." she whispered, as she drifted off to sleep.

Actually I was rock hard, but I decided to dry hump her ass crack rather than wake her.

Her hair smelled real bad, I wondered if I had any shampoo, but no way was I spending the night with that stench, so as soon as I shot my load I went and lay on the couch in my sitting room cum office.

"Steve." she wailed, waking me, "Help me!"

I went to find her, she was groping around, "I need the bathroom."

"I thought it was important!" I said, as I lifted her, "Your hair stinks, I'll get your head shaved." I suggested, as I sat her down on the can, " Tissue!" I told her as  placed her hand on the dispenser and then I left her.

I saw tears seeping through the stitches holding her eyelids.

"I'll get you a wig!" I promised, as I remembered we ought to have loads of sheep dip left.

I found a shed nearly full of seep dip in five gallon cans so filled the bath with water to about six inches from the top and led her to it.

I shoved her head under the surface, she thrashed and struggled as I counted to sixty seconds then I let her up, "Mmmmm, smells better already." I commented, as I let her breathe a second or two before shoving her head in again.

She waited patiently this time, and took a big breath when I let her surface again, the red tinged bathwater turned a nuddy brown as I dunked her hair and then I took a horse grooming brush and started to comb her hair.

She started to look presentable, and the sheep dip didn't smell too bad really.

I worried about our plough teams, I dared not leave any hard evidence, but I had an idea.

We had a barn big enough for all of them, men and women, all the amputees and castrates  a barn with stone walls and an iron roof, a drain ran along the floor the length of the building and I had a pipe put through the wall so we could fill it from outside.

I found a box with some spare electrical equipment and I put a battery over the drain with wires leading from it to the compound and I carefully tested the circuit and then I set up my old projector and linked it to the  camcorder placed outside the building with a long lead, and finally I announced Susan Craig does Porno would have its first screening to our captives.

I had the satellite broadband link brought across and saved my Video to several addresses in England and the States, then with the projector on one wall and the far wall acting as a screen I was ready to roll.

Bomatsu and Adam led the captives in, they seemed surprised, pleased even, but confused, a film show, entertainment for them, they had known nothing but work since they arrived. there must have been sixty of them all told.

Darkness fell and we locked the doors and with the projector already running I turned the cam-corder on and started the film show.

The audience were really getting into the show when we poured petrol into the pipe leading to the central drain, they smell must have alarmed them but as soon as we were safely back in the compound  I connected the wires leading to the box and it began sparking.

It was more a crump than a bang, the entire roof must have lifted and everyone inside must have died instantly.  We just bashed the walls with our Bedford truck till the whole lot collapsed and left it for the rats and scorpions to clean up.

We set to work and dismantled the feeders and modified the harnesses and tidied the place up so we had male and female dormitories, long tables for feeding, and then I sent my men out to find starving Tribesmen, Illiterate Tribesmen, who would be allowed clothes, ate at a table, and although they pulled a plough during the day, they had a decent life. It took about a fortnight, but we found several of their ladies as well, who we installed in their dormitory, ladies who saw the advantages of a life indoors, a life of love and of course Susan was forgotten as suddenly there were new ladies, so I took Susan her back to her cell, and tied her lightly in place so she knew where her shit pile was and didn't need constant attention.

I took loads of camcorder footage of  men and women happily working, singing tribal songs, eating at their tables, the dormitories, all the stuff we put on our official website and pretty soon the place was boring. Amonth had passed and it was time to leave.

Katanga, agreed to come to the Capital with us so we dressed Susan in a tribal grass skirt and nothing else and sat her in the Landcruiser.

We changed to my Landrover at the bridge and I drove north, revelling in the views across the magnificent scenery.

A magnificent Lion stood blocking our way proud defiant, but no match for two and a half tons of Landrover, It darted left at the last instant, I went right cursing as I did.

"Did you get it?" I shouted.

"No, the camcorder is in the bag."

"The bloody Vickers, what is the point of having a machine gun if you don't use it?" I asked reasonably.

"I didn't think." he replied.

"Shit, lets use Susan as bait to get it back!" I suggested but I was already revving the old truck hard through the gears regaining speed.

"No, I don't want to die." Susan said quietly.

"Make up your mind." I warned her, "You wanted to die the other day."

I booked her in the most expensive psychiatric hospital I could find and paid the director very well for his services then I sent the films of her fucking back at the Project to a publicist in London.

He must have flogged them to every TV company and newspaper in the entire western world,  I told how I found her deranged living in a stable on my project and fucking all comers, even having herself filmed in an orgy of depravity, and I admitted she and I had once had an affair and indeed we had children which I had never seen.

She was released to my care one Saturday, her sores were healed, and she had been checked for HIV and every sort of clap known to man and was certified clean, and after extensive counselling had come to terms with her blindness. She wore a simple dress when released, I said she was to return to the village so not to get her used to wearing shoes or underwear.

I paid a Mortica Embongo, an ageing black surgeon who was struck off for screwing his patients under general anaesthetic, to help me with Susan, he came to the hotel suite I booked for us and after dinner in our room where I amused myself by feeding Susan like a baby Mortica gave her an anaesthetic and when she went under he delicately snipped away the stitches in her eyelids.

I had a blindfold ready and when he finished I blindfolded her and tied her hands behind her.

She was scared when she woke, ""What's going on?" she asked.

"A final twist," I told her, "I guess it's nearly over, we'll head down by the river when it gets dark."

She came quietly, just Mortica Embongo, Mr Katanga, with his machine gun, Susan and myself, She seemed to accept the situation and sat quietly as I drove. She was thoroughly confused.

It was dark, moonlight glinted on the water as I led her to the riverbank. "It's beautiful." I whispered. "Shall I leave you for the crocs?"

"Please no, send me back, you know, to the project."

"Sorry, its all cleaned up, no place for a whore like you now." I told her, "You wanted it cleaned up.

I released her hands, she stretched and felt around her face.

"We unstitched your eyelids." I told her, "Be careful."

She pulled the blindfold away.

"Aaaggh, my eyes." she screamed,

Even the soft moonlight seared her poor unused eyeballs.

"Come into the shadow." I suggested and we moved under a tree. "Is that better?"

"I can see blurred shapes." she said. "I can see!" she squealed, "I can see!" she threw her arms round me. "Thank you!" she said.

"You can thank me properly later." I told her as I led her back to the Landrover.

The light hurt her eyes so she used the blindfold again, "Exactly how much money did you make from selling my pictures?" she asked as I drove her home to my hotel.

"A few dollars, but hey I did it for you." I replied

"You Bastard!" she swore.

"Shut the fuck up, you got talk shows to do," I told her kindly.

I took her to my room, the only clothes she had was just the borrowed dress she wore, nothing else, and as soon as we got inside I tore it off her and she sank to her knees and sobbed.

"Do you want anything from room service?" I asked. She shook her head.

"On the bed then." I ordered and she walked over to the bed and sat down, then she lay back and closed her eyes and opened her legs.

I walked across and as she lay there I eased the cork from the bottle of sparkling wine and started to fill two glasses.

She sat up in surprise, "What the bloody hell!" she removed her blindfold and sat squinting in the soft moonlight flooding through the window.

"A drink, a celebration, a proposal." I suggested.

"After what you did to me?" she sneered.

"You want the babies?" I asked

"Yes, of course but, they gave them away?" She replied.

"I can get them back." I suggested.

She knew I was serious, "What do I need to do?" she asked.

I handed her a typed sheet, she stared in disbelief. "You can't be serious? can you?"

She stared hard at me.

"You don't have a whole lot of options." I suggested,  "And I was brought up to take responsibility, so I guess now we have some kids I have to look after you.

"You want me to sign my life away? half my money, share everything, it's like marriage."

"Yes, and if you don't I can keep you in that Psychiatric unit for years."

She signed on the dotted line, two copies, I added my signature and then I hung my trousers on the bottom of the bed and kissed her on the lips..

She didn't respond, even when my fingers sought out her soft private parts, but despite everything her nipples stiffened and the juices began to flow.

"Don't fight it you know you love me." I told her and she aimed a slap at my face, but she raised herself as she did so and I extracted my manhood from my Y fronts and thrust deep into her.

It must have been two months since she last had sex and suddenly she had decided to make the most of it, it was like she was raping me as her fingernails scraped across my back drawing blood as they drew me into her, and my kisses were reciprocated, "Steve," she said."Fuck me harder," she pleaded.

"I'll have a bloody heart attack," I warned her.

"Yes," she said wistfully. "And die with any luck."

To be Continued.