CHAPTER ONE

 

~ Souls made of fire and children of the sun, with whom Revenge is virtue... ~

Edward Young

 

Daniel Mkomo was eventually awakened by the incessant phut-phut-phut of the cooling fan in the ceiling as it whirled ceaselessly above him, and he was about to rise when he felt an obstruction.

Wha─?

He was annoyed to find the head of his ten-inch penis still firmly enveloped in the pouting lips of a Chinese teenager.

Did she imagine this was a nursery?

He eased himself free with an audible plop and gently rolled her succulent body to one side. There was a brief mewling sound of protest, then she snuggled her nose into the nearest pair of lush buttocks and resumed her slumber.

His troubled mind had prevented him from sleeping anyway, so he disentangled himself from the soft limbs of the seven naked slave girls that lay in a sweating cluster about him. He rose from the vast communal bed and made his way outside until his bare feet found the cool marble surface of the terrace.

He stretched his naked six-foot frame and paused to appreciate the dawn breeze as it wafted about the formidable bulk of his genitals. He shivered with pleasure in the cold air, for in just another couple of hours he knew the relentless African sun would turn the place into a veritable blast furnace. He sighed with contentment and waggled his hips from side-to-side, enjoying the sound of his heavy penis as it made a soft slapping noise bouncing back and forth between the hard walls of his muscular thighs.

Ah! It was good to be back once more in the motherland!

He leaned over the stone wall atop the escarpment and rested his elbows as he surveyed the great jungle vista running for hundreds of miles in every direction below him. He smiled to himself ... an impassable barrier for any would-be escapee; he decided, especially a barefoot, naked female of the Caucasian persuasion. And where would she run to, anyway? There was nothing but an impenetrable forest full of carnivores and snakes and spiders, and God knew what else lurking out there and how those numberless horrors would relish the chance to sink their vicious claws and fangs into the soft lush flesh of a helpless young white girl!

No, there was no need for iron doors or bars on windows, not in a place like this. No need for barriers of any kind in the fifty odd rooms that made up the internal structure of the harem. It was his own creation, this hollowed-out bastion of living rock set in the mountain fastness of his dictator-father's kingdom, his very own designed and homemade pussy-palace, with its ever-growing population of enslaved teen and twenty-something females.

The jungle echoed to the guttural cough of a leopard somewhere far off in the distance. Mkomo turned in the direction of the feline warning snarl and shook his head in admiration.

I greet thee N'thulu, ghostly prince of the forest.

Now there, he knew, was cunning and mercilessness, Incarnate!

N'thulu ... Mkomo's secret birth name, for hadn't his own father named him for that mighty jungle carnivore?

 

Had the great cat hunted successfully this night? Was he even now dragging his prey to some lair to be stored later for his unhurried, leisurely enjoyment?

He decided they had much in common; he too had an inestimable courage and self-belief, coupled with the crucial financial wherewithal to seek out and capture his own delectable quarry, only in his case, the target of choice happened to be that sweetest and most desirable of all human flesh ...Woman.

Preferably white and exceptionally beautiful, but variety being the spice of life, he'd been careful to add a small percentage of other hues to his private rainbow of international pulchritude and the range was quite spectacular when viewed en masse.

There was the reserved, icy white of the Nordic blonde, always a shockingly delightful contrast to the sensuous coal-black skin of a Congo beauty and in between those two delectable extremes stood the pale pink of the western European and American female and Mkomo hadn't neglected to acquire his share of the golden, fiery flesh of Italian and Spanish womanhood either, and all of this juxtaposed against the dusky brown of the sub-Asiatic and the far-flung, mysterious yellow glow of Chinese and Japanese femininity.

But, above all, oh, yes, above all that most coveted of all female flesh ...The forbidden purity that was the white man's woman!

In the beginning, his limited ambition had been nothing more than the forced acquisition of just two or three, or perhaps five sweet young fuck-slaves for his own personal indulgence, and the remarkable young monster had actually done it, he'd actually gone ahead and asserted his will, with two defiant black fingers raised to morality and the global forces of law and order ─

But that was many, many moons ago and when in truth, is enough, enough? For as his power and his wealth had grown, so too had his appetites and to date his very own private seraglio boasted more than fifty women and even now he wasn't satiated. Perhaps, he thought idly, he'd be satisfied with a hundred, for his customer base had also grown alongside his ever-mounting stock of living cock-toys. However, some of those customers were beginning to demand the satisfaction of their own unique tastes and requirements of a more, shall we say sophisticated nature.

Indeed, nothing else was acceptable to the demanding standards of Mkomo's ultra-rich clientele!

But enough, it was really a question of supply and demand anyway, for who in his right mind would turn his black nose up at the astronomical money involved?

After all, these were men and women who were prepared to pay fabulous sums for the ultra-discreet sanctuary and freedom that would allow them to let loose their explosive and perverted tastes and wallow in lewd, misogynistic sex of the strictly non-consensual kind, to be able to unleash their barely concealed sadistic sexual lusts on the tender bottoms and legs and breasts and bellies and cunts and rectums of defenceless, innocent, helpless young pussy-flesh, and who was Daniel Mkomo to refuse them? And as time passed, it finally dawned on him that there was another, even more delightful refinement he could offer his customers. For why should they be limited to the mere pleasures of unlimited access to dozens of helpless female strangers?

Why not offer them the opportunity to select the victim or victims of their own choice?

And so it came about. Mkomo's own unique principle of cash-for-ownership. In fact, one of his underlings had even come up with an unofficial business name for the enterprise.

Mkomo thought of that title now and smiled.

Abduct-A-Fuck.

Exquisite.

And it worked in just this fashion.

Was a client suffering from a particular, unattainable lust?

Perhaps it was a neighbour's daughter, or a work colleague or a business rival, or perhaps that arrogant young bitch handing out parking tickets, or even that gorgeous air stewardess with the incredible bottom in first class...

...But why stop there?

For a cool million, why not all four of the delectable young beauties that made up the Pas de Quatre in a performance of Swan Lake?

Can't take your mind off that delicious little bit that reads the news on TV?

What about that horny-looking pop starlet, the one who just loved to flash her bum and her titties all over the screen, or the porn star, or your daughter's university girly pals, or an ex-girlfriend or wife just crying out to be abducted and stripped and beaten and force-trained into permanent and unquestioning servitude??

To be held nude and incarcerated, her mind screaming as she tried to cope with the unspeakable suggestion that she was now the exclusive property of her "owner?" To languish in naked terror to await the sudden, unannounced arrival of the faceless beast she'd been assured time and again to be most intimately well-known to her? An anonymous sponsor who would assuredly revel in the prolonged and unfettered revenge and cruel enjoyment he (or perhaps even she) would take out on her chained and defenceless, naked little hide?

Daniel Mkomo was more than prepared to provide such a unique service, because after all, it was only thanks to their patronage that the African had gone from a former playboy with a few millions, to a now former-playboy with the ability to spend millions and Daniel Mkomo would never make the fundamental mistake of forgetting who his true friends and allies really were.

So it would appear that the self-styled young African prince could well now afford to revel in his many nefarious accomplishments─

And yet, there was a thorn in his shoe and it did sorely vex him. It tore at him, clawing remorselessly at his enormous pride and ego, for Daniel Mkomo had been robbed ... Bilked ... Taken to the cleaners ... to the tune of 500,000 ... Sterling, that is, by a white woman, no less!

Philippa De Winter, that middle-class, upwardly mobile, Negro-hating little prick tease ... An untouchable English rose of the cultured variety, and of course, breathtakingly beautiful, a uber-feminist hypocrite of the most shallow, self-serving kind, scrabbling around for a few thousand here, a few thousand there and she'd thought she'd hit the big time swindling him out of a breath-taking five-figure sum with her convoluted, high finance bullshit.

And he fell for it, another dumb African looking to make a quick killing in the stock market and trusting her to invest on his behalf but he'd been well and truly bamboozled by her clever games, the erudite blonde had effortlessly outmanoeuvred what she assumed to be just another stupid jungle bunny with her sophisticated games of smoke and mirrors, and before he knew it, she'd simply disappeared, gone to ground with his money, not a trace of her to be found anywhere─

So far, that is!

He was so absorbed with self-pity and rage that he almost failed to hear the whisper of soft footfalls behind him. He turned in alarm to confront the diminutive figure of a young auburn-haired girl and when she saw the expression on his face, the eighteen-year-old suddenly froze with a look of abject terror.

Irish, wasn't she?

He tried to think of her name, Mary, or Maudy, or something equally inconsequential, one of the very recent arrivals. He'd hardly noticed her on the peripheral of all the hot and horny beating and fucking he been engaged in since his return.

How had he overlooked this pale Lolita?

He paused now to look her over with more care. A tiny pocket-fuck, barely four-foot-six-inches tall with a rather sweet pair of cone-shaped little titties jutting shyly above the soft sheen of her belly, and the camel-toe slit of her mons veneris now clearly visible after her entire body had undergone the obligatory and permanent depilation process imposed upon all new slaves.

A pair of luminescent green eyes and a cheeky, retrousse nose covered in a light dusting of freckles, a delightful little fairy. She collapsed before him in the classic primary position of obeisance with her knees spread wide and her hands clasped behind her neck and, thus presented, Mkomo could revel in the sight of her exposed sex-lips.

He wondered if she was still a virgin.

Had Kabulla beaten him to the punch?

Damn! Why didn't he pay more heed to the goings on in his own harem? And what was she doing here, anyway?

The answer of course, was rather obvious. In her own innocent way, the girl was trying to curry favour with this new, all-powerful masculine authority figure; precisely as she had often done not so very long ago with her former schoolteachers.

He strode towards her and halted with his rapidly swelling penis just inches from her chin. Her face, neck and breasts suddenly flushed with a combination of fear and heart-stopping excitement as she felt the heat and the pungent masculine scent of his mighty loins so close to her.

Was the great Lord about to allow her the honour of ... of ... sucking his ... his ... thing?

The poor creature couldn't bring herself to use that bad word to describe it, not even in the privacy of her own mind. After all; Mairead reasoned, she wasn't that kind of a girl.

Hadn't been, she corrected herself.

It was impossible for her to bring herself to look directly at the great circumcised organ, it was all too lewd and obscene for her tender teenage mind to cope with, so she kept her eyes down and fought to control her shallow breathing as her thighs trembled at the unexpected thrill of sexual excitement that was beginning to boil between her legs.

She took a deep breath and risked a sideways glance through the corners of her eyes at the bulbous head of his black prick. It was now a mere tongue's-length away and she felt a sudden, overwhelming desire to worship it with her mouth, to drain those heavy black balls of every last drop of his semen and satisfy the strange, alien tingling sensation she felt welling at the back of her throat.

What would it taste like? she wondered.