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A Crude Business


An Entertainment in several parts by James Anderton

This story results from suggestions from correspondents that I add more
chapters to my earlier story "The Ambassador's Wife". As the idea grew, I
decided to incorporate characters from "Vengeance" another of my previous

I decided to use a long established literary device used by thriller
writers for centuries?, pioneered (on the internet, at least) by Parker and
others in their "Bankok Slaver" Stories, by writing a series of linked
stories, rather than a lengthy novel. "A Crude Business" can be considered
the scene setter for the series, to be known as the "POWER BROKER" stories.


The following story is for the entertainment of ADULTS ONLY, and
contains descriptions of explicit sex. If you are not an adult, or reading
sex stories upset you, do not read any further. As always, purposeful
criticism will be welcomed.



Smoke drifted lazily into the air from the end of Gerald Knebworthy's
huge Cigar. Before him, a select group of his brightest students, all
mellowed by several glasses of good brandy, eager to share with him the
conclusions of their private project. It had started as a post-grad joke,
three years ago- "Write a business plan to create an organisation which
will be the most powerful organisation in the world within 30 years".

Paul Hegarty rose to his feet.

"As Managing Director Designate", he started with a big grin, "I will
introduce you to The GODS Corporation, Global Organisation for the
Destruction of Society, bringer of pestilence to the world's major powers".

His audience chuckled, as he launched into his presentation.

"First, what sort of enterprise? Political?, Industrial?, Financial?

Knebworthy sat forward in his seat. The guys had delivered ....

"... only criminal certain enough, .......need a real business plan

Knebworthy's mouth fell open. The plan being proposed was exactly the
proposition he had come up with, but in a level of detail he had only
dreamed about.

"....need seed capital, Rashchid's father could........ operating cash
from drugs? prostitution?..."

Knebworthy smiled to himself. This was going to work if they all bought
into it.

"...all-pervasive power is essential ... political .... financial
..... violence .... coercion ...."

"What about the competition? You don't think people like the Mafia will
just let you take over their path do you?" Knebworthy smiled to himself.
Typical of Dan Hegarty to put his brother on the spot.

"No, of course not bro. We need new suppliers, new customers, niches,
like these......"

Two hours later, Knebworthy, the newly elected CEO of GODS inc.
dismissed his board and set them loose on the world.



The sun was going down. As it settled slowly against the horizon, two
of the three girls sitting on the veranda got up to go. All three of them
had been invited to the party, but Mathilde Steenburg didn't want to go.
Sharp as a tack, Mathilde had excelled at her studies, graduating in
chemistry at the top of her year, but she was still deeply unhappy. She
looked across at her friends, blonde, lithe, good looking, laughing
joyously about life and inwardly cringed. Mathilde knew she was plain.
Not ugly, but always last to be asked to dance, avoided by the good looking
young men to whom she was attracted. No, she did not want to sit by
herself through another party. Her friend Judy came back to her and pulled
at her arm.

"You have to come, Mattie, you need to be seen if you are want that
grant for next year."

Mattie knew she was right. Jobs were impossible to come by, even for
someone as talented as her. Growing strain within the government, and
terror attacks from a few of the black majority were rapidly eroding the
White economy. However dissilusioned she might be, she needed the research
grant to keep her going until things improved, and good networking was
essential. She got up and headed off to get dressed for the occasion.

Professor Wyatt always threw a good party, and as soon as they arrived
it became clear that this would be no exception. Unusually, he was a
defier of conventions. Black faces mingled with the white. Not many, it
was true, but it was still illegal to mix in the wrong areas, and only
brave blacks were prepared to run the risk in their search for a
multicultural social life. The lights were low, and a disco unit created
swirling patterns of colour against a background of throbbing music.
Within minutes Judy and Alice had been whisked off to join the throng of
dancers, and as usual Mathilde found herself leaning against a wall, glass
in hand, people watching. Time was hanging heavy as people got on with
their socialising. If Mathilde had been on her own, she would just have
left, but that wasn't an option. Suddenly, things took on a different
complexion. Professor Wyatt sauntered across the room with the most
stunning man Mathilde had ever seen. He was gorgeous. Tall, slim, but
with a body rippling beneath his smartly casual shirt, and with a skin deep
coffee coloured giving him the air of a well-to-do, confident businessman.

"Mattie, may I introduce you to Patrick." "He's an English writer, doing
a book on our scientific education establishments."

"Pleased to meet you, Mattie." The voice was soft, deep, and welcoming.
Mattie responded warmly, as the conversation flowed freely. His questions
about her life at university slowly changed focus, becoming more personal
as the evening wore on. Time seemed to stand still as their relationship
deepened unbelievably quickly. Mattie knew she was falling for him. She
wrestled with her feelings. Relationships with blacks was forbidden, but
she was having difficulty recognising his colour. All she could perceive
was the interest in his eyes and the soft seductive tones of his voice. At
the critical point in her deliberations he made his move. He raised his
hand, and with the lightest touch, stroked her cheek with the back of his
knuckles. She nearly fainted at the unexpected delicacy of his touch.

"Please," he murmured "follow me."

As if in a trance, she simply followed, up the stairs, and into a small
bedroom at the end of a short corridor. He held her gently in his arms and
explained that the next day he had to return to London. The surge of
disappointment she felt was quelled by the simple expedient of a kiss. She
melted. She yielded her mouth to his, as his tongue probed gently, but
insistently around her lips. As he lay her gently back on the bed, he
stealthily undid the middle of her button-front dress. She felt the cool
press of his hand on the flesh of her waist as his lips moved slowly across
her cheek, and down into the crook of her neck.

His hand moved slowly upward, initially cupping her breast through her
underwear, then sliding her straps off her shoulder to free her soft skin
to his touch. She was losing control now, this was a new experience for
her, and the feelings she experienced as his lips gently sucked on her
nipple were almost too pleasureable to bear. She had always had her
defences planned - don't let him get his hand between your knees, keep his
groping to the outside of the thigh - but nothing had prepared her for

She felt his lips move down over her stomach, sending little tickling
feelings scattering all over her midriff. She didn't even notice his hand
slide under the waistband of her knickers, but as his hand continued it's
exploration there was no escape from the intense pleasure triggered by the
touch of his finger on her clitoris.

Responding to his encouragement, she lifted her hips to allow him to
remove her knickers. As he did so, his lips dropped to her groin and he
began to slowly lap at her pussy. Her head back, rocking gently
side-to-side, she struggled for breath. Her whole body seemed to be
twitching with desires she had never felt before. Her cunt flushed with
the juices of passion, as her legs fell open, inviting him to move on. He
moved off her. She clutched deperately trying to pull his head back to her
fanny, but he had other things in mind. Sliding his trousers down below
his knees, he freed up his dick. Long and thick, he was inordinately proud
of it, silently thankful that Mattie would feel it before she saw it. As
his lips returned to her neck, he thrust. Gently, but in one smooth
stroke, his dick swept into her well lubricated cunt, taking her breath

It filled her, she gasped with the shock at it's size, but immediately
began to grind her hips against his groin, making every effort to maintain
contact between his dick and the centre of her pleasure. Rapidly the heat
built, she began to chew on her bottom lip as her head now thrashed from
side to side. Her cry of wonder, when it came, must have been heard in
Bulawayo. She screamed with pleasure, right into Patrick's ear, as her
legs tightened around his waist and her feet drummed uncontrollably on his
buttocks. Mathilde had discovered sex.



Samantha Roberts was pretty pleased with herself. As owner and chief
pilot of Roberts Air Cargo, she was about to cast off the burden of VAT
forms and Company returns and get back to flying. Leasing a long distance
cargo plane had seemed like a good idea at the time, but it had stood idle
for weeks. Then, out of the blue, a saviour had turned up. Mark Harrison,
a tall, good looking man would be welcome any time, but bearing a contract
for a weekly delivery of machinery spare parts to Africa made him doubly
so. Her only problem, a suitable available co-pilot, was solved by the
customer himself. The following day, Captain George Dickens turned up,
presented his credentials,and volunteered to "get stuck in" straight away
by supervising the loading of the first batch of cargo. Dickens was a
scruffy, unkempt individual, but had impeccable references, so despite her
misgivings, Sam climbed aboard, went through the full gamut of pre-flight
checks and set off into the sun.

Two hours out, however, Dickens went AWOL. Sam, concerned about the
safety of her flight, found her worst fears confirmed when he returned an
hour later, clearly the worse for wear. The smell of alcohol made her turn
her head away, and his aggressive response made her decision to leave him
alone and get on with flying, a good one. Another hour and almost a full
bottle of vodka later, he collapsed in a drunken stupor, leaving Sam alone
with her thoughts as she flew onwards.

Earlier that morning, Mark Harrison pushed his way through the double
doors of the Stardust club, took the stairs two at a time and bounced into
his boss's office. Steve Washington, Six foot four of mean, looked up in

"Whats up man?

"Nothing, boss. Just thought you would like to know that the bird is on
her way."

"Fully loaded? Dickens on board? Excellent!"

In the outer office, Jane Harrison (nee Janey Jeavons) sat staring at
the wall. Her life was a mess. Hooked on coke by her now husband Mark,
she had been raped, made to perform with animals, used as a whore, and
finally forced into a marriage of convenience to the man responsible for
her troubles just to protect her stepfather's reputation. Still she needed
a fix, and there was only one way she could get it.

As Harrison left, Washington reached for the phone. It had been more
than six years in the making. With the help of oil money from Raschids
father, the Emir, the big plan was just about to take off to another level.
For too long his operation had relied on small shipments at sporadic
intervals to establish his business. Now the demand required volume. It
was time for the first bulk shipment. Dialling the international number
that would connect him to his "brother" Samuel, he rattled off the details,
re-assured himself that Samuel's men knew what was necessary and sat back
to wait. It would only take a few days.

Mark closed the door behind him leaving the boss to make his call.
Janey got up out of her chair and pleaded with him.

"Just one, Mark, I'm your wife for Gods sake".

"Listen, bitch, the only reason we're married is to protect your
Stepfathers reputation so don't push your luck!"


"Fuck off!"

The door slammed behind him.

Jane sat, shaking, getting up the courage to ask Steve. She walked
acoss the floor, knocked quietly at the door, and stuck her head nervously
into the room. Steve was sitting with his back to the door, concluding a
phone call. He waved his hand to indicate the chair, leaving her to pad
quietly across the room and take a seat. He hung up , turned, and slowly
smiled as he saw her sitting there, waiting.

"Long time Jane"

" I know , Steve, and I know you told me never to come back, but Mark
won't talk to me, and I need someone to help me. You know I will do
anything to get my fix...."

She blushed with the shame of what she had done before, but she knew
that she would have to make a special effort if Steve were to get her what
she needed. Putting on her sexiest look, she slowly unbuttoned the top two
buttons of her blouse. When Steve told her to stop she almost panicked,
but he reached into his desk drawer, pulled out a small packet of white
powder and a business card.

"Thats to hold you over." "Be at that address at 9.00pm tonight. Don't
be late, and tell no-one."

"OK., and thanks."



The heat and dust were getting to him. Bouncing around in the back of
his Landrover, President Samuel Mwamba wondered to himself what the hell
was he doing holding the meeting out at the farm instead of his
air-conditioned office in Gujanga city. The farm was unique. Named
"Perigord", presumeably to remind the previous owners, the Rochas, of home,
it bore no similarity to its namesake. Apart from being the largest in
Gujanga, it had two distinct halves. One was typical african plain. Dry
for most of the year, but lush and green through the two rainy seasons, it
was ideal for traditional cattle rearing which formed the basis of the
farms legitimate (and public) business. It was the other half, however,
which was the reason for his interest. A sharp escarpment ran through the
middle of the property leading to steep slopes of semi-tropical bush and
forest, ideal not for traditional horticulture, but for the growing of
Mwambas cash crop .... the coca bush.

The GODS business plan required a supply of drugs. Traditional sources
were sewn up by the cartels so a new source had to be develope from
scratch. It was the misfortune of Eduardo Rochas, and his French-born wife Alexandra to own the farm. When Mwamba set his henchman, Major Ibo Ngoro
on the job, he had no idea just how effective the abuse of power could be.
It was Ngoro who had accused Eduardo of treason, beat him, subjected his
wife to sexual abuse of the worst kind, confiscated the farm and finally
threatened them with death. Eduardo eventually was allowed to return to
the farm as "Manager", his organisational skills put to new use growing
cocaine. His wife also returned to the farm, as housekeeper for the
notional owner, Tembo, one of Ngoro's secret service agents and trusted
follower. It was Tembo who welcomed him as his Landrover slid to a halt.

"Welcome, Sir, the others are already in the study."

"Thank you, Tembo. I will call you when we need your report."

He strode purposefully across the well-appointed hallway and pushed open
the study door. Three of the men inside stood to meet him. The fourth,
Ngoro, remained seated, his shorts round his ankles whilst the head of a
young woman bobbed furiously up and down servicing his giant cock.

Mwamba crossed the floor, a big smile on his face, and signalled the
girl to leave.

"For Gods sake, Ibo, don't you know there's a time and place for

"I sure do, boss." grinned an unrepentant Ngoro. " I just can't find
time for meetings..."



"Jesus Christ". Judy Bergsson jumped to her feet and backed away from
the splintered door. Four uniformed figures leapt through the door,
automatic rifles at the ready.

"What the fuck do you think you are doing!" she screamed at the top of
her voice.

A fifth figure, in plain clothes walked slowly across the room.
Stopping in front of her he smiled a slow, scary smile. Before she saw it
coming, he backhanded her across the room bouncing her against the wall.
She slid to the floor in shock, her legs splayed, her nightie sliding up to
reveal all to the intruders' gaze. Scary smile raised his hand, and
without a word being spoken, the uniformed policemen left, closing what was
left of the door behind them.

"Where is she" he hissed, looking down his broken, stubby nose at the
cowering girl below him.

"Who" Judy asked innocently.

"Don't get fucking clever with me, bitch". "Your flatmate, Mathilde
Steenburg"."I'm told she fucks Blacks."

"She's not here."

Scary Smile leaned down, gathered a handful of her nightdress and hauled
her up the wall,leaving her dangling, feet off the floor, virtually naked.

"I didn't ask if she was here, did I." "I know she's not here, I asked
where she is."

Judy hung there, terrified, unable to issue any more than a squeak.
Scary smile lowered his face to hers. His free hand moved to cup her naked
breast, and his knee pushed between hers, forcing her thighs apart. Judy's
hands let go of the wrist at her throat, and she began thashing about,
desperate to release his grip.

"Put your hands down"

Judy couldn't believe how evil he could sound. Instinctively her hands
lowered to her side. His free hand tightened his grip on her breast until
it was almost unbearable, drawing tears from her eyes. His grip released,
but his hand set off on an inexorable journey toward the junction of her

"No." "Please." "I would tell you if I knew."

His hand completed it's journey, cupping her mound and insinuating it's
middle finger into the folds of her labia. Her inevitable struggle simply
made things worse, helping him enter, and then tear at the walls of her
cunt. Tears of frustration and anger rolled down her cheeks as, for a
moment, she thought he would stop. She should be so lucky......

"No!" "NO!" "AAAAaaarrrggghh

Within seconds, his other leg joined the first, spreading hers still
further. He had taken the opportunity to free his dick, and as she
relaunched her struggle, Judy felt him push himself deep inside her. Fear
ensured that her cuntwalls were as dry as sticks, and within seconds his
thrusts began to cause irritation and pain.

"Where is the bitch?" "Where is the bitch?" "Where is she?"

"OOph!" "I don't know." "OOph!" "I would tell you if I knew." "OOOph!"

The pain was unbearable. Her cunt was sore, the back of her hips rubbed
raw by the rough wall, and the back of her head ached from the rhythmical
banging induced by his thrusts.


The gush of his climax took both of them by surprise. He stepped back
as he withdrew, dropping her unceremoniously onto the floor. Fastening his
pants, he swivelled on his heels, and strode towards the door.

"Tell her!" "Cunts who shag blacks have nowhere to hide." "I'll be



Sam Roberts was beginning to get concerned. She had been sitting on the
chair in the small reception room for nearly two hours and still had her
cargo manifests on the table in front of her. The heat was oppressive, and
her decision to wear Company uniform added nothing to her comfort.

She had removed her jacket as soon as she stepped in the room, but now,
perspiration had created damp patches on her starched white blouse. She
removed her tie, placed it in the pocket of her jacket, loosened the top
three buttons of her blouse, and sighed with frustration.

The door opened quietly behind her, as two uniformed officers and two
soldiers in fatigues came into the room. She stood up as the two soldiers
stood either side of the door, The younger officer took her chair, twisted
it around and sat on it backwards, his arms folded in front of him across
the chair back.

The older officer sat on the chair opposite her and introduced himself
as Captain Mpenza.

"Well, Samantha, you've been a naughty girl, I see".

Sam looked at him in disbelief.

"My name is Captain Roberts, to you, and I would be obliged if you would
refrain from patronising me."

"I will call you whatever I like, Samantha," he intoned, pompously
stressing her name for effect. "You are in serious trouble, so you had
better get used to it."

Sam's mouth dropped open in amazement then horror as he quietly informed
her about the search of her cargo, the discovery of AK47s, Dickens'
confession that they were destined for the rebels, and his assertion that
Sam was a major player.

"So you see, young lady, we have a cast iron case, which has already
been heard in our local court, and you have been sentenced to death."

Sam stared at him, her mind working overtime as the full implications of
his words began to sink in.

"You can't do that, I'm a British Citizen, and demand to see my

"I'm afraid that will not be possible", he answered evenly. "This is
only a small country, you have only a small Trade delegation who have
already decided not to take an interest in your case - It is too
politically and economically sensitive."

Sam was panicking now. As she stepped forward to protest her innocence
she found her arms pinned to her side by the two soldiers. She needed to
think, ........get some time.

"I must have the right to appeal", she muttered, almost under her

"Only the President himself can overturn this decision, and I certainly
am not going to ask him in this case."

To her left, the tall figure of the younger officer stepped in front of
her. Despite his age, he was clearly the senior of the two, and, towering
over her, he raised his hand and cupped her chin, drawing her eyes to his.

"I might" he said.



Jane sat slumped in a corner. The address Steve had given her proved to
be an almost abandoned block of flats in the seedier part of town. The
damned elevator was out of commission, it's broken door jammed half open,
stinking of urine and worse. She took the stairs. In her condition, the
climb was a trial. Her last fix had worn off, she felt dreadful, her
temperature high, her joints aching, she was desperate for a fix. Now that
she had reached the flat, she rang the doorbell. No Reply.

Panic struck. Wildly she pushed at the door, which opened under her
assault. A frantic search of the place revealed nothing but an empty slum.
The place stank. A mouldy carpet and cold gasfire were the only
furnishings in the larger room, and apart from a cooker and a couple of
cupboards the kitchen was in just as bad a state. The effort was all too
much. Tears of despair ran down her face as she slumped against the wall.

She didn't hear the man enter the flat, closing the door behind him.

"Hello, Jane", he said softly.

"Clyde? What do you want, get lost, I never want to see you again".

Clyde smiled.

"I'm not surprised after what you did to the Great Dane last time we
met, but Steve sent me with this".

Jane looked across at the package he was holding in his hand. There was
more H than she had ever seen.

"Great, give it here". "I knew Steve wouldn't let me down".

Clyde smiled again.

" Not so fast, bitch", his tone harder now that he had her attention.
"It needs to be paid for".

Janey knew it couldn't be that simple. These bastards never let you
alone. She smiled as sexy a smile as she could muster.

"I don't have any money, can we do a deal?"

"Same old Janey, eh?" "What have you got to offer, as if I couldn't

"Please, Clyde, don't make me do it, I need the stuff"

"Shut the fuck up, bitch, and get on you knees". "If I remember well
you love it that way."

Jane moved away from the wall, and lowered herself to her knees.

"Turn around"

"Pull your skirt up"

"Knickers to your knees"

"Face on the floor"

Jane waited, face down on the stinking carpet.

Clyde pulled a hypodermic from the package he was carrying, took off the
cap and inserted it into Jane's buttock. Taken completely by surprise,
Jane squealed as he depressed the plunger. Her hands reached instinctively
behind her to protect herself, but it was to no avail. A simple push with
the sole of his boot, and she slumped in a heap face down on the carpet.
Casually Clyde pulled up her knickers, lowered her dress, and rolled her
over onto her back. Leaving her to sleep, he walked across into the
kitchen, switched on the gas and returned. Taking a telephone from his
bag, he plugged it into the wall socket and left, closing the door behind

The blast, when it came, took out more than half the twelve storey
block. Clyde was not around to watch it.



The insistent ringing of the doorbell echoed through the house. John
Wyatt left his guest and padded across the wooden floor.

"Good God, Mathilde, you're shaking. What brings you here at this time
of night?"

It was a good quarter of an hour before they could get any sense out of
the distraught girl.

"My flatmate ......... the police raped her .........they were looking
for me .........They know about Patrick ............ they said they would
come for me ..........I don't know what to do."

She was sitting in his study. As she poured out her story, Professor
Wyatt listened intently. His guest, a tall, handsome black man dressed in
a dark suit also hung on every word as Mathilde described her finding Judy
slumped on the floor of their flat covered in blood and semen.

"Why are you worried girl?"

The soft dark tones of his voice startled her, surely he knew that she
had broken the law by sleeping with a black man.

"They will arrest me, treat me like Judy, but they will also ruin my
career. I will never be able to get a job, and they won't let me leave the

"Tell me what you do, child."

"I'm not a child. I have a Phd in Chemistry, and I need a research
grant to continue working. Jobs are not easily come by."

"What's your speciality?"

"Chemical Synthesis."

"Then why not come and work for me?"

Mathilde looked at him as though he was crackers.

"What would you want with a chemist, and how could you protect me from
the police?"

"General Mwamba is not South African, Mathilde. He is President of the
Independant republic of Gujanga."

"That's right young lady, and I'm here to ask Professor Wyatt for help
in finding a production manager for a small pharmaceuticals venture we
intent to start-up. He had just suggested your name when you turned up.
Perhaps the gods are smiling on me. I can offer a good salary, excellent
prospects, your own workforce, and, most importantly, sanctuary."

Mathilde stared at him, unable to comprehend her good luck, as he

"I'm leaving for my home at first light in the morning. Smuggling you
across the border as diplomatic baggage will be no problem, but I suggest
you stay here the night if you intend to join me."

"I will," spluttered Mathilde, taking the opportunity before she thought
too much about it. Memories of poor Judy flashed through her head, taking
away any need for further thought. "I will."

Wyatt's maid appeared as if by magic as the discussion ended.

"Ah, there you are Joceline, please see Doctor Steenburg to the spare
room." "Oh," he added as an afterthought, "see if you can find her some
appropriate clothes for a week or so in the bush. That should do don't you

As Mathilde vanished up the stairs, Wyatt raised his glass to Mwamba.

"Perhaps we should drink a toast to the gods?"

"Don't forget that the Gods had a little help, professor." "Here's to
our friend Inspector Walwijk."

"I second that," whispered a voice, as their friend, Scary Smile, joined
them in a toast.



Samantha Roberts was not a stupid woman. She stared up into the deep
brown eyes of the officer. Her mind was whirring, control had returned,
options were being considered. It was pretty clear what he wanted, and it
was equally certain that he would ignore her wishes in the matter. She
knew the real threat was violence. That frightened her enough to make her
mind up to co-operate. Putting on her most innocent expression she
explained that she had nothing but the deepest respect for the Gujangan
authorities, and pleaded with him to intercede with the President on her

"I might, but that depends on you"

"What do you want from me?" she murmured, "I've told you the truth"

"I will need much more than that".

"Please, send the others away, and I will fully cooperate"

He smiled at her, bent his head and whispered in her ear.

"They are staying! and you are going to show your respect, starting
with Mpenza here". He grabbed a handful of her hair, and, none too gently
pulled her acround the side of the table and stood her in front of the
older officer. "Why don't you show him how much you want to leave".

Insistent pressure on her shoulders was enough to push her to her knees
in front of him. Nothing more needed to be said. Sam was angry more than
shocked. She tried desperately to hide the thoughts whirling round her

Two things were certain, she decided. The first was that this had
nothing to do with sex. Sex was only being used as a weapon to make her
more amenable to something else. The second was that she had better resign
herself to the task in hand. If she resisted, she would be seriously hurt.
She had no doubt that violence was a normal part of life with these people.
She had to buy time, see what they were after.

Leaning forward, she loosened Mpenzas trousers. He raised himself
slightly off the seat and allowed her to pull them down his legs.They
dropped to the floor, revealing a short, stubby penis already glistening
with precum. Sam had done this before, but never in this sort of
situation. Tentatively she opened her mouth, dipped her head, and licked
the end of his diminutive dick. A quick upward glance at the young officer
told her she was doing the right thing, but then, she thought to herself,
that was bloody obvious.

Slowly, she sucked him in, effortlessly, and ran her tongue around the
inside of her mouth. The effect on Mpenza was immediate. His breathing
quickened, he began to shake and within seconds, shot his load of watery
sperm into her mouth. She began to move her head backwards, off the
thrusting organ, but a hand pushed it forward, forcing her to either
swallow, or choke. She swallowed.

Still on her knees, she was pulled by the hair until she faced the two
soldiers at the door. The briefest of nods was enough for the first of
them to position himself in front of her, his erection pushing at the front
of his uniform, demanding relief. She almost forgot her predicament and
had to supress a wry smile as his tool sprang from his loosened trousers.
This was a much bigger task altogether. Eight inches of black manhood
hovered in front of her face. If it had been clean, she shuddered, this
could be a pleasure, but the rank smell of him made her retch. The officer
holding her noticed her reaction and acted swiftly. One hand twisted a
handful of hair, causing her to yelp with pain, the other grabbed her nose,
forcing her to open her mouth to breathe. As she did so, he pulled her
onto the soldiers dick.

This time, the soldier's reaction was more measured. Disinclined to
indulge in foreplay, Sam grabbed his arse and set her head rocking,
backwards and forwards, rhythmically, in time to the thrusts of his hips.
It seemed like a lifetime before she sensed the familiar tightening of his
buttocks, the low animal groan, and the ejaculation splashing into the back
of her throat. She swallowed again.



Ngoro sat back in his chair. It was good to get back to his
air-conditioned office after the baking heat of the Airport. The
relatively large grey and glass building stood incongruously amongst the
harbourside chic of downtown Aribundi, capital of the republic of Gujanga.
Most of the buildings in the city were the same as any other African
Capital, huge steel and glass monuments to the Capitalist bastards who held
the countries to ransom by lending money they know is never going to be
repaid. Around the harbour, however, beside the original fishermans
cottages which still stood along the water's edge, the buildings were of an
altogether different quality. The Presidential palace, Chancellory, and
several other Government buildings, splendid examples of French colonial
majesty, had been left behind by their erstwhile conquerers as permanent
reminders of past glories. Ngoro occupied the top floor of a long low
building which contained the most feared members of Gujanga's ruling class,
the secret service, and police force. Even the Army, of which Ngoro was
also a member, left them alone to get on with anything they felt they
needed to do. He loved this view, watching the eclectic mix of fishing
boats, expensive yachts, powerboats, and a single massive cruise liner
keeping the economy of Gujanga ticking over. Mwamba could keep his palace,
this was enough for him........

A purposeful knock at the door startled him out of his reverie.

"It's time sir, you're guests have arrived."

"Thank you, Jacob. Meeting room? or Suite?"

"I've put them in the suite, sir."


There were four of them, three men and, surprisingly a girl. Paul
Hegarty, MD of GODS, Raschid Al-Benarbia, CFO and two others who he hadn't

"Hi Paul!" he gushed. "It's really great to see you again. And
Raschid! a real pleasure, it's been a long time."

"Too long, my friend," beamed Rashid.

"Where's Steve? As head of Marketing I expected to see him here as

It was Paul who responded.

"Steve couldn't come, he had some urgent business to attend to, but I
would like you to meet a couple of people from his organisation. Mark
Harrison, Safety officer (he chuckled to himself at the stupidity of the
Enforcer's title) and Sonya Jenkins, Business Development Manager."

"Welcome, to both of you." Although he said both, his eyes never left
those of the stunning young woman in a white short dress, who returned his
stare with such frankness that for a moment it was he who felt nervous.
Unbelievable, but true.

"So!" he said, braking the tension. "Let's get down to business.

Over the next hour or so, the four of them reviewed progress. It was
clear that things were going better than Paul had hoped. Ngoro gave a
lucid account of developments at Perigord. The first harvest of coca
leaves had been brought in successfully. Growing conditions did indeed
prove to be perfect. Tembo had, through a mixture of fear and finance
created a small dedicated (for Africa) workforce to run the farm and both
the Rochas' had adapted to their new roles with much less resistance than

"I'm a bit concerned on the money front" confessed Raschid. I don't
seem to be seeing all the bills. We've only spent half our budget and I
don't want the Emir to get stung by huge year-end bills.""On the other
hand, there seem to be a number of invoices which I don't connect with our
business. Bottles, labels, contract packaging and stuff like that."

Ngoro laughed out loud.

"That's Mathilde, our Chief scientist." "We got her from South Africa,
as you know." "She has been amazing."


"She's motivated. She loves young black men."

Sonya chuckled. "Don't we all?"

"Anyway," continued Ngoro, "She was much better than we thought. She
put together designs not only for the cocaine plant, but also for a
specialist pharmaceutical operation using the same processing
intermediates. If anyone gets suspicious, we have a dummy company, and a
warehouse full of legal drugs to explain our purchases. That's where the
extra invoices came from. By the way, we learned that trick from the
Iraqis. She also built the Coke plant at less than half our budget. Now
she spends all her time either processing coke or fucking native houseboys.
She's in paradise."

"Excellent. Does that answer all your questions Raschid?"


"Then I suspect we've finished."

"Not quite!"

It was Mark who spoke.

"I'm still not happy with the thought of using Mules to get the coke
into Europe. It only needs one of these people to land at the same time as
flights from Columbia, asia minor, or even Amsterdam, and they risk being
caught. I'm not bothered about losing the odd load, but I don't want the
link with Gujanga to become obvious. I would prefer an alternative."

"I agree", nodded Ngoro, "but I have a solution for you." "You know the
pilot you used for my Arms delivery? well she turned out to be more than
the bimbo we expected. The plan was to enjoy her, fuck her silly, and
export her to the Emir until he got tired of her."

"Anyway, I used her to reward old Mpenza and she gave him such a great
blowjob that she nearly blew his brains out. Then she gave me a lecture
about wasting her talent. She said any woman can be trained to be a great
fuck, but not many of them can fly planes. Why not put her to better
use.""I have to say I agreed, so I locked her up, until we can decide what
to do with her."

"So what's your plan?"

"I think we should use her to fly our Coke to Europe." We can put the
coke on the inside of pallets of coffee."

"What the fuck to want to become a coffee trader for?"

"Gujangan coffee is amongst the best on the planet. It's a legitimate
export, The pilot needn't be told......oh, and it masks the smell of coke
from sniffer dogs."

Ngoro paused for thought whilst his audience recognised the opportunity.

"Sounds like a much better plan to me." Mark confirmed.

"Right then, let's do it. If that's all, I guess that's the end of our

"I know you have a couple of hours before your flight home, so I have
arranged a little entertainment for you." said Ngoro. "It's a little
sexist, so perhaps Sonya would like to go shopping for a while?"

"Not likely! I'm a fully paid up member of this organisation. What's
good for the goose is good for the Gander,"

"OK, please yourself. but please don't get upset with me if you don't
like what you see."



Samantha Roberts was free but very suspicious. She had been released in
the strangest way. Dickens had re-appeared, surprisingly sober, waving a
sheaf of papers in his hand.

"I don't know how you did it, but we are going home. We have a shipment
of coffee to deliver."

Sam looked at him askance. She had been right, it was not just about
sex, but why the hell would anyone pay that amount to ship coffee?
especially since she had already been paid to deliver the guns. One last
look in the mirror confirmed that she was almost back to her old self.
Blouse fastened to the neck, small black tie back on, jacket fastened, hair
combed, almost presentable. She set off across the tarmac to where Dickens
was supervising the loading of the final pallet. As she approached she
slipped on a couple of beans on the floor. Still suspicious, she stepped
on one hard, crushed it beneath her heel, bent down and sniffed it.
Coffee! and bloody good coffee at that. Was she being too suspicious? She
didn't know.

What she did know was that she wished Dickens were somewhere else, and
she knew she wanted to get off the ground as quickly as she could. Ten
minutes later, as the plane lifted into the sky, she sat back in her seat
and sighed with relief. All she had to do now was set a course and wait
for Dickens to fall over drunk. As if on cue, Dickens got up out of his
seat, mumbled something about the boy's room and headed for the back of the
plane. An hour later, he had still not returned, so Sam, needing the
toilet herself set the autopilot and headed back down the aisle. There was
no sign of Dickens as she closed the loo door behind her. Having completed
her ablutions, she left, closing the door behind her.

A hand reached across her shoulder and pinned her against the door,
squashing her face sideways against the cold laminate.

"Give us a kiss sweetie.", hissed Dickens in her ear. "Or you could
give me what you offered the locals to get us the contract."

"Piss off you cheap piece of shit" squeaked Sam, struggling to form the

His elbow increased the pressure on the back of her neck, squashing her
face further, while his other hand slid round her waist and grabbed her
breast. Suddenly, just as Sam was beginning to be thankful for the fact
she was wearing trousers, he let go. His hand shot up and grabbed her by
the hair, and she was hauled unceremoniously backwards and dumped on her
back in the middle of the aisle. Dickens lurched drunkenly and sat himself
down astride her, his crotch just under her chin.

"Cheap am I, Cheap am I," he repeated, "With my share of this cargo I
could buy and sell you any time I liked."

"You wish! you won't get much from this lot, the coffee price is

"Stupid Bitch. What do you know. There's enough coke on this plane for
it to fly back without an engine"

Sam Looked at him. Stunned! So that was what the deal had all been
about. Dickens carried on as though nothing had happened. He was too
drunk to understand the importance of what he had said.

"Come on, Chicken!" he slurred, struggling to free his dick. "Get your
laughing gear round this."

As he spoke, he started to struggle to lower his zip, but in his drunken
state, and with his ungainly position perched on top of a struggling
Samantha, all he succeeded in doing was to fall forward, his stomach
covering her face. As he struggled to recover, Sam took her chance. She
grabbed the only thing she could reach, a small metal tool case, and
brought it to bear on Dickens head. He went down poleaxed. Gasping for
breath beneath his stomach, his belt buckle pressing painfully against her
chin, Sam slowly struggled free, and stood up. Dickens was lying face down
unmoving. She stooped and felt his wrist.

"Shit," she thought to herself. "No pulse."

Slowly she made her way back to her seat to think.



Jacob led in the girl. She was late teens, mixed race or indian
descent, Sonya guessed. Her lovely coffee coloured face was streaked with
tears, her hands secured firmly behind her back by what looked like a
velcro cable tie. She wore a simple, button through shift dress which cane
to just below the knee, and apparently nothing else. Mark looked sideways
at Sonya, unsure of how to proceed in the presence of a young woman
participant so Sonya decided to take the initiative. She loved the fearful
look in the girls eyes as she walked around her, inspecting her. Ngoro was

"Like her? Sonya?"

"She's lovely. What's she done?"

"She was caught thieving."

"Did she take much?"

"Not really."

"Not worth the death penalty then?"

The girl's mouth opened in shock, wanting to say something but unable to
form the words. Sonya slapped her across the face.

"I didn't say you could speak!"

The girl hung her head and sobbed silently to herself. Sonya slowly,
ever so slowly, unbuttoned the front of her dress down to her waist. The
girl stood still, like a frightened rabbit in a car's headlights. Sonya's
hands moved back to the girl's throat. The men stood together in a small
group, each of them sporting painful erections as the erotic display
continued. She parted the dress and slipped it off each shoulder, baring
the flesh of her breasts, but leaving the nipples covered.

"Do you want to go home to your husband?" asked Sonya gently, noticing
the brand new wedding ring on her finger.

"Please don't hurt me"

"I said do you want to go home to your husband?" - less gently this
time, and said as Sonya walked around the girl making her turn her head to
follow her. The movement of her head pulled her dress, uncovering one
nipple, and raising the men's temperature by another couple of degrees.
All three of them were begining to enjoy Sonya's act. They knew what the
finale might be. Sonya was now standing facing the men over the girls shoulder.

"My friends won't let you." she whispered. "Do you think we could
persuade them?". As she spoke, she lowered the dress the rest of the way
down the girl's arms, slowly revealing her beautiful breasts in all their
glory. The girl looked back at her as best she could, unsure what she was
getting at.

"I don't know"

Sonya's hands slid round her waist, and moved slowly upward to first
stroke, then cup her breasts, slowly massaging them with small circular
motions. The effect on the men, unsurprisingly, was obvious. Less obvious
was the effect on the girl herself.Sonya smiled in quiet victory as she
felt her nipples stiffen under her ministrations. She removed her hands,
and gripped each nipple between finger and thumb. Squeezing gentle, she
rolled them this way and that. The girls breathing bcame shallower.

"What should we do for them? Should we kiss? should we fuck? or
should you fuck them?"

"I, I, I don't know" muttered the girl, growing more agitated by the

Sonya pulled the tie off her wrist and turned the girl around to face
her. She returned to the task of unbuttoning the dress until it was free
to drop, but Sonya held it in place. She moved her face forward and placed
a gentle kiss on the lips of the now aquiescent girl. Very slowly she
extended her tongue and gently forced open her lips. At the same time she
slowly lowered the dress, revealing a most wonderful arse to the attentive
audience. By now, Ngoro was getting seriously frustrated and had extracted
his dick from its covering. It stood out fully erect as his hand
masturbated it slowly. Sonya stepped backwards until her own backside was
resting against the edge of the table. Letting go of the girl, she raised
her own dress, and leaned backwards exposing her naked cunt to the girl.
She pushed the girl on the top of her head, onto her knees. Unbidden, the
young woman slipped her face between Sonya's thighs and began to lick long
strokes up the length of her quim.

This was all too much for Ngoro. As far as he was concerned his time
had come. Despite the charms of the girl, Sonya was much more to his
liking, so he ignored the naked arse bobbing up and down in front of him,
and presented his dick to Sonya's mouth. She gazed up at him with a look
of frank admiration at the size of his dick, and parted her lips. He wiped
the end of his tool along her bottom lip, and slowly pushed it into her
mouth, forcing it wider as he did so. Sonya arched her back slightly as
the tongue on her labia found her centre, sending a series of tingles up
and down her spine. Her head went back as Ngoro pushed again, and this
time Sonya accommodated the whole width and most of his ten inch length.
Mark approached the young girl. Pulling her head out of Sonya's crotch he
asked her name.

"People call me Gem," she whispered, her head bowed in supplication.

Mark didn't bother replying. he simply shrugged off his pants and slid
into her from behind.

"No, No, please, don't......"

Mark had absolutely no intention of doing anything but fuck her, and her
constant sobbing was beginning to get to him. Another loud sob spurred him
into action. He leaned over her back so she felt his presence beside her

" If you sob again, I'll give you something to sob about. Understand?"

She stifled the next one immediately and bit her lip furiously as Mark
began to pound into her cunt for all he was worth. Over Gem's head, he saw
Ngoro rearrange Sonya on the table. She now lay face down, Ngoro's todger
sliding in and out for all it was worth. Sonya had her eyes closed, and
her gasps slowly grew from almost mute to long, drawn-out wails as her
climax built. The rhythm was contagious. Mark found himself fucking Gee
at the same pace as Ngoro. As Ngoros climax built, so did Marks. Gem
found herself coming to the boil despite herself. Her cry of surprise when
the dam burst caused Mark, in turn, to climax. He gave one final push, and
remained buried to the hilt as Gem lay gasping beneath him.

Whetever Gem thought about her ordeal being over, she was wrong. Paul's
instruction to "Get over here, Girl" was soft and quiet, but brooked no
argument. Still on her knees, she crawled across the short expanse of
floor, her head bowed, waiting for the inevitable.

"I think," mused Paul," I shall use your arse." "Turn round."

"NO!>"The girl went pale. No-one, not even her husband had used her
there, and she was not simply going to let these bastards do it to her
here. She stood up and made a bolt for the door. Unfortunately she got no
further. twisting the handle this way and that, panic set in. She looked
around like the cornered animal she was, searching for any way of avoiding
her anal rape. Raschid was the first to reach her. Grabbing her hair, he
pulled her down to her knees, and slapped her, right, leftbackhand, right.
Her head rocked backwards and forwards, the whiplash effect on her neck
making her cry out in pain.

Raschid dragged her, now with Mark's help, across in front of Paul.

"I've got a better idea." he muttered, "it's tea time, I'm ready for a

With that, he sat down on the sofa and pulled the hapless girl up onto
his lap. Mark realised what Raschid had in mind and helped him lift the
struggling girl onto Raschids rampant dick. She screamed and struggled,
but eventually his organ achieved full penetration, and she was left
wriggling like a stuck pig. Raschid wasted no time, rocking her backwards
and forwards on his pole, until he began to create a response from the
girl. Just as he was getting into the swing of things, Paul got into the

"Hold her still for gods sake! I never was any good at hitting a moving

Raschid chuckled and wrapped his arm around the wriggling girl, locking
her tight against his chest. Meanwhile, Paul advanced his erect prick and
eased the end of it up against the girl's little puckered arsehole. Her
cries became pleas. Tears ran uncontroleably down her cheeks as she tried
to prevent his attack. Unfortunately for her, the same wriggling that was
designed to fend him off, simply helped the end of his tool worm it's way
into her nether orifice. Paul, sensing just the right moment, gave a sharp
push. Her sphinctre gave way, and with a cry of triumph "Yes!" he was in.

The effect on the girl was just as momentous, but from an entirely
different perspective.

"NNOOooooohh! OOophh!" The pain flooded through her arse, and exploded
up her spine. She clung to Raschid in a desperate attempt to cope, and
cried loudly against his chest. As the pain began to subside, she felt
Paul begin to move. With each thrust, she experienced the same stabbing
pain, but with each thrust it seemed to diminish. She had never
experienced anything like this. Her whole lower body seemed to be crammed
full of dick. The nearest she had felt to this was trying to expel a
particularly recalcitrant turd, but even that failed to describe what was
going on in her cunt.

As Paul began his thrusting motion, Raschid began to do likewise. The
friction across her perinaeum began to replace the pain she felt with small
pleasureable twitches that slowly built until she wanted to do nothing more
than feel the two of them pistonong in and out. Raschid adjusted his
position so that he increased the amount of contact between his dick and
her clitoris, and at the same time Paul increased his stroke, making huge
sweeping thrusts up what seemed to be the entire length of her body cavity.
Meanwhile Ngoro, having finished with Sonya, watched the slow change
overtaking the sandwiched girl.

Gee, her eyes closed in what had now become pure pleasure, began to pant
in time to the thrusting invaders. Suddenly she became aware of another
taking interest in her body. Ngoro knelt to one side, offering up his
immense dick to her mouth. Without thinking, Gee opened her mouth and
slipped it around the end of his tool. Gently at first, he began also to
thrust in and out, fucking deep into her throat until he matched the rhythm
of the other two. Gee was powerless, fully absorbed in the wonderful
sensations her rapists were creating. As her excitement built, she could
no longer keep control and abandoned herself to the first of what proved to
be several orgasms. Wave after wave of exstacy sparkled around her body.
Ngoro withdrew, and began to spray semen around her face and neck. In
truth it was a good job he did because the next orgasm ripped through her,
causing her to clamp her teeth shut so hard she bit her own lip, drawing blood. Wave after wave, she found herself jerking spastically as she lost
all control. Raschid and Paul, both came together, pouring their jism into
her willing body, and, as things subsided, grinned at each other in their



Steve Washington was a worried man. The whole plan appeared to be going
south. He knew that the plane had left with all the cargo on board, but
from there, nothing. Mark's intention to meet the plane at the airport had
been thwarted by an emergency landing his BA flight had to make en-route to
Heathrow. When his men visited Roberts Air Cargo they found the place
locked up, a cargo of coffee in the hanger, and fuck all else. Samantha
Roberts and the cocaine had disappeared, and Dickens hadn't been heard of
since boarding the flight.

He was on the point of phoning Sir Gerald when there was a brisk knock
at the office door. He glanced across to the bank of CCTV monitors and
found himself looking at a very determined Samantha Roberts.

"Come in!"

She strode through the door and plonked herself in the chair in front of
his desk. She was wearing her Captains uniform, but with a pencil skirt
which rode to the top of her thighs as she sat down. She followed his gaze
to the hem of her skirt.

"Don't even think about it, you bastard. You know why I am here, and it
doesn't include that!"

"I'm sure you're right miss Roberts, but I believe you have something of

"I certainly do, but first we have some things to discuss."

"OK. Why don't you tell me what you want."

"First, I want to join your organisation."

Steve was gobsmacked. This was not what he was expecting. "So why
should we be interested?"

"First, I have your cocaine, second I have left papers with my solicitor
which implicates all of you if something untoward should happen to me, and


"You need a regular way of shipping cocaine, and I have a business to

"OK, tell me where my cargo is, and I will let you know."

"Come on Mr Washington, we both know that's not good enough. Call your
principals now. Let's establish a working relationship and then all things
become possible. I will be on the call."

Steve picked up the phone, dialled Mwamba, waking him in the process,
and conferenced in Paul and Sir Gerald. After their initial shock,
Samantha outlined the deal. She wanted no more than a regular contract
with bonuses at their discretion. She was very reasonable, and it was a
matter of minutes before the partners agreed. The call ended and Samantha
turned to leave.

"Just a minute! where is the coke."

"Where's my money?"

Steve crossed to a cabinet by the wall. "It's right here" he said,
extracting a large envelope and giving it to her.

Samantha took it without stopping to check it. She could always come
back if it was wrong. She handed Steve a card.

"Your coke is at this warehouse. It's labelled as Bicarbonate of Soda,
but I wouldn't recommend baking with it."

Steve laughed as she turned to go.

"Oh, by the way, where is Dickens?"

"He went for a swim - 200 miles off the Liberian coast. Why? will you
need him?"

"Not any more ..... partner."


It was late when the doorbell went.

Sam glanced at her watch, and considered ignoring it. She decided not
to, and opened the door.

Steve Washington stood there, a big grin on his face, a bottle of
champagne in one hand, and a small leather briefcase in the other. She
waved him in.

"We have one last round of business to conclude. For you - Dicken's
share as a bonus - 20,000. For me? I fancy sampling some of the skills
you showed Ngoro in Gujanga. What do you say?"

"I say you shouldn't listen to big boys bravado " ....... She loosened
the belt of her robe ....... "I may not be half as good as they say."


The stories of James Anderton can be found at www.storiesonline.net and
on the ASSTR website.

Copyright James Anderton 2002

Please don't post on paid websites, and please make appropriate
attribution on free ones. Thanks James

Many of life's failures are by pople who did not realise how close they
were when they gave up - Thomas Edison

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