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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."
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