Project Zone 3

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.