Chapter 1

The unusual sound of police sirens broke the peaceful quiet of Greendale. One of the most exclusive suburbs of Harare it was not used to the sound of police sirens. Greater surprise was the sight of three police cars racing down the tree lined avenues. Working police cars were rare in Harare! It was a powerful connected individual who was able to demand the use of these vehicles! Behind the police cars trundled a police cage and a lorry filled with members of the dreaded riot squad. A number of unmarked cars trailed along behind.

Africans stared and trembled until they passed by. A sense of relief was followed by morbid curiosity as to who the unlucky victims were going to be. African necks craned and surprise soon overcame their fear as the vehicles screamed to a halt outside one of the high walled villas that usually belonged to wealthy whites.

Screams erupted as the huge security gates were cut open with bolt cutters and screaming riot police roared as they rushed inside.

Africans quickly gathered to watch the events. They feared the riot police but seeing them at work on someone else was great fun!

Joseph Yoruba strolled confidently through the cast iron gates. His men were creating merry hell. To one side he could see an African being severely beaten. Probably the African gardener employed by the white family. He disregarded the violence and strolled down the driveway looking at the hacienda style villa covered with the purple blossom of an overhanging bougainvillea tree.

Joseph was a Major in the Central Intelligence Organisation, or the CIO for short. In Zimbabwe that give him the powers of a minor deity over the lives of those around him, and those he came into contact with. Powers that he was happy to use to his own advantage as well as to the advantage of the state that employed him.

And why not? The state had not paid him for six months. This he deemed a minor matter as his earnings over the last six months from drugs, prostitution, and extortion had earned him over Z$350,000, untaxed, of course! He in turn ensured his own men were paid from his earnings.

Inside the house he could hear female screams and the outraged shouts of a white man. He grinned. White men always seemed to think they were superior, and important. This white man was going to learn the folly of opposing the will of his African boss. At which point he looked around wondering where Ngorro Luba was. He doubted his African friend would want to miss the fun.

At that moment Ngorro lumbered through the gates, like one of his own overworked puffing lorries. At fifty four years old Ngorro did not carry his seventeen stone weight with any degree of comfort. Sweat poured from his forehead, as he cursed the heat. He slapped down his jacket, but the best efforts of one of the best Saville Row tailors could hide the bulk that was more fat than muscle.

Ngorro prided himself that his wealth could buy him anything he needed. He had not stinted himself, and the price of over indulgence showed. No amount of money would buy him back a slim waist, or good health. He huffed and puffed as he walked down the driveway to join Joseph.

"Shall we go in?"

Ngorro nodded in reply to Joseph's enquiry and they headed through the front door. Ngorro tut tutted at the damaged done to the door. He would deduct the cost from the salary of Alexander Parsons, the American accountant he had employed to manage the business accounts. Alexander was a competent accountant, and honest.

Too honest for his own good, Ngorro mused. It had taken Ngorro several months to entrap him, wasted months from Ngorro's point of view. But now the waiting was over. As they stepped through the door Ngorro grimaced in distaste at the sight of a second African lying in the hallway with several bleeding gashes to his head. Did the riot squad have to be so heavy handed? These were after all his own African employees! Still it had probably scared the daylights out of the Parsons family and that would be to the good.

Inside the villa Alexander Parsons stood quivering in the grip of two big strong strapping members of the riot squad. His bloodied features showed that he had been foolish and tried to resist. Three other Africans held his squirming, struggling wife. Laura Parsons was a remarkable woman in Ngorro's eyes and his lust for her had gone unsatisfied for an intolerable six months. She was a dark haired woman, with a well-rounded figure.

Ngorro's persistent advances had been just as persistently, if politely, denied! Her husband had even protested when Ngorro had fondled those full round curves at the company picnic. Around the room detectives working for Joseph and the CIO were pulling open drawers and searching thoroughly and with little care. The sounds of breaking wood, and tearing cloth filled the room.

The Africans holding Laura Parsons had quite deliberately placed her a few feet in front of her husband. One had grasped her dark hair in his fist and pulled it back hard, and the tears in her eyes could be seen trickling down her cheeks. The Africans holding her were unmoved. Their focus was on the large firm breasts pushed into particular prominence by the way they were holding her head sharply back. One of the Africans stood in front of her grinning at her husband Alexander.

"Think you can stop me white man?"

The African laughed. It was not a pleasant laugh. The riot squad were well picked for instilling terror. Then his hands rose up and fondled those full womanly breasts. Alexander struggled in his guards grasp. Laura whimpered and held herself still.

The African grinned. His grasp was not hard and bruising. His hands cupped the full breasts and weighed their fullness. Then he caressed them gently; his dark hands were surprisingly soft, and Laura bit her lip.

"Hey white man. How long will it take your wife to become excited from my fondling?"

Alexander bit back his response, He was only too well aware that these men were just as free with their blows as this one was being with his wife.

"Five minutes!" called the one holding her hair! "Z$10 dollars on five minutes!"

His fellow on the far side took in the tears and determination in her eyes.

"Ten minutes! I bet ten minutes!"

The room was filled with the sound of African voices calling in alternative bets, and a crowd was gathering to see who would win.

"Enough!"

Joseph stepped through the growing crowd. The African fondling Laura's breasts stepped back. There was no rancour on his face. He knew who was in charge, and that obedience to orders was best done without any show of reluctance. As he stepped back past Alexander he whispered in his ear.

"Next time, next time, Joseph is too busy to be around all the time." Alexander shuddered and sought to pull away but the two Africans holding his arms held him firm. The African who had fondled his wife leaned closer.

"Don't worry I will make sure she enjoys it!"

He glanced back at Laura, before looking into Alexander's eyes.

"It may take time, but she will enjoy it in the end!"

The look of despair in Alexander's eyes gave him great joy!

"Alexander, I have found evidence that you have been doctoring the accounts of my company." Ngorro stated.

"I'm paid to adjust your accounts! I'm your accountant for goodness sake!"

Alexander stared at Ngorro. This man he had seen be totally ruthless to his African employees had always been polite and courteous to him.

"But not to accept bribes, to facilitate payments to creditors!"

"I have never done anything like that!"

Ngorro nodded to Joseph who barked an order.

"Take him away!"

The two riot police holding Alexander Parsons had lifted him off his feet, before walking off with him.

"No! Leave him be!" Laura screamed.

"Where are you taking me?" Shouted Alexander.

"You are going to jail Alexander Parsons!"

"But I haven't done anything wrong!" he called over his shoulder as the two Riot Squad members hauled him away.

"He hasn't done anything!" Laura called, pulling at the burly Africans holding her steady between them.

"You can release her," Ngorro ordered.

Laura tried to follow her husband but there were more Riot squad members who firmly blocked her passage blocked the door. She pushed feebly at them.

"Let her go with him," Ngorro ordered.

He turned to Joseph, after looking around the villa.

"Call off your dogs. We'll let them stew for a while."

Joseph nodded and barked a few orders. Ngorro kept an eye on them all leaving not wanting any gratuitous damage done to his property, before following Joseph out and ensuring the villa's doors and gate were securely locked. As a last point he slipped a letter addressed to Mrs. Parsons and family through their letterbox.

The next two days were a nightmare for the Parsons family. She had followed her husband down to the Zimbabwe police station and seen him charged with accepting bribes, and theft from his employer's business, conspiracy to aid others financially. Alexander's voluble protests were simply dismissed out of hand by the police officers.

She had called the American Embassy who had been less than helpful. America had little interest in Zimbabwe a country in which no American companies had an interest, and even less influence with its government and institutions. An embassy official had turned up, only to declare that all the correct procedures had been followed, as far as they could tell, and there was nothing he could do before Monday when the Courts opened. Laura had felt like hitting the man!

She had tried to telephone the offices of Zimbabwean lawyers who, it seemed, had all closed for the weekend. She had spoken to friends who had advised her to contact Alexander's employer who could do something they were sure. When she explained desperately that it was her husband's boss who had filed the charges, she had been met with embarrassed silence.

They were old African hands and knew what it meant when an African boss cracked down on a white employee with a pretty wife, or pretty daughters. They had seen it all before! The Harare gossip and speculation at this latest news spread so fast that it seemed jungle drums were beating out the news across the city.

When on Saturday morning Laura Parsons rushed down to the jail to take her husband some breakfast her husband looked tired and gaunt. He was being held in a holding cell with thirty other prisoners of both sexes. In the darkness of the cell the sounds and smells of sexual activity had disrupted the night and Alex had not managed to get much sleep. None of the women had resisted overtures during the night from the male prisoners, and he had been nauseated to hear a group of men laugh and chuckle as they held down one of the smaller weaker men.

He was grateful for the food brought in by Laura, but embarrassed for her to see him in this state. They talked together in quiet whispers. Alex was acutely concious of how some of the other prisoners stared at his pretty blonde wife. Her thirty-eight years did not detract from a full and well cared for curvy figure. She had not thought to 'dress down' for her visit to the African jail, and her stylish manner highlighted her womanly qualities.

They discussed what to do and who to talk to. It depressed Laura. She had already spoken to most of the men her husband suggested but did not want to lower his spirits by telling him so. She left promising to do what she could, while inside she seethed and cursed Ngorro Luba, her husband's devious boss. She was convinced her husband was innocent, but to go and ask Ngorro ran the risk of those lecherous eyes and his wandering hands. She knew what Ngorro wanted from her, and the thought knotted her insides and created a tension she had not known in years. She would not let that bastard win!

She spent the whole day visiting people. Cajoling and wheedling, eventually insulting and shouting at any and all she could think of who might be able to help in any way. As she left the American Embassy after her third interview with different officials the wife of the ambassador walked her back to her car. The woman was tentative, embarrassed. It was six o'clock and Laura had to get back to the prison to give Alex an evening meal. As Laura made to open her car door the ambassador's wife placed a restraining hand on her arm.

"Laura..."

Laura looked at her.

"You need to speak to Mr. Luba, persuade him to drop the charges."

"He's a bastard. I'm sure he has set up Alex. I'll not go pleading to him."

"It will be the only way, Laura."

"The bastard! You don't know him. He's an evil lecherous old goat!"

The ambassador's wife breath caught in her throat, and Laura looked up noticing the discomfort.

"Oh I know Ngorro Luba. Know enough to advise you not to wear knickers when you plead for your husband's release!"

The ambassador's wife released Laura's arm, and turned abruptly and walked away. Laura looked after the departing woman. She had sensed the woman's discomfort. Her words had come as no surprise. She knew what Ngorro Luba wanted, but still denied that it had to happen that way.

The ambassador's wife walked away, keeping her steps firm to avoid the sudden weakness. Laura had sussed Ngorro correctly. He was a lecherous old goat... with a fat cock! She stopped as a hot flush suffused her loins as lurid guilty memories surfaced. She looked up at the windows of her husband's office blazing with light. Dinner was not planned before eight, and the embassy staff would have that in hand.

She turned and walked into the garden. There were places where the garden was not well lit and she was sure what she would find in that darkness. The embassy was well staffed with African gardeners. Guilt and need were a scary combination and a nervous thrill passed through her.

On Sunday morning Laura headed down to the jail with her husband's breakfast. She had spent the night reassuring her daughter's Jacky and Hayley. Hayley was too young to understand properly but Jacky had looked thoughtful. Laura had avoided meeting her eyes. At the jail Laura was shocked at the sight if her husband. His clothes were torn. His eyes red and full, she would have sworn he had been crying. His face was gaunt. Sitting nearby were a group of African prisoners openly ogling her. She glared at one but he just grinned and rubbed his crotch.

"What's happened? Is something wrong?"

Alex struggled to retain his composure. He wanted to blurt it all out but shame and embarrassment overcame him.

"Hey whitey! That your wife?"

Alex flushed, and ignored the taunting African.

"You can get visiting rights you know! Why don't you invite your wife to spend the night with you."

Anger welled inside Alex, but he was scared as well, bruised and probably bleeding. They had come for him in the night. Surprised that a white man should spend two nights in jail, confident that he must have no protector, they had come for him and held him down. Made him do things, things that had nauseated him, disgusted him. It had dismayed him that his body should react as it had. He looked across at Laura.

"You must leave this country!"

Startled Laura looked at him.

"I mean it you should leave before it is too late. It was a mistake to come here!"

"Pull yourself together, darling. I will talk to solicitors tomorrow they will get you out."

"Tomorrow... tomorrow... too late." Laura heard him muttering too himself.

"Later I will bring Jacky and Hayley to see you. They will cheer you up."

"Nooo! No honey. You mustn't bring them here!"

He glanced furtively at the taunting African prisoners.

"Please honey, trust me don't bring them here! Tell them anything but keep them away."

Laura was seriously worried now and though she tried to hide it, she realised something had happened. She looked at those prisoners nearby. They grinned when they saw her looking, evil and hunger in their eyes.

"Honey. I am going to get you out of here. I will do it by tonight trust me!"

"No hope... too late... too late."

Laura watched as he hid his face in his hands.

'I will' she resolved! 'I will have Alex out of this jail by tonight!'

The early evening grew dark quickly in Harare. Jacky and Hayley Parsons had not had a good day. They had fretted and asked each other questions neither could answer. Their father was in jail, and their mother's hurried visit to prepare daddy's lunch had alarmed them. She had snapped at them before looking guilty and shamefaced over it. She had ignored their questions, brushed them aside, she had been unable to answer them. Doubt and fear had entered her life. Then she had rushed off again, leaving them alone and non the wiser.

When the doorbell rang the two startled teenagers rushed to the door. Throwing it open they were shocked to find their father's boss Ngorro Luba standing outside. A burly bodyguard accompanied him and she could see another strange African out by the shining Mercedes now parked in their dive.

"May I come in?" he asked politely.

"What do you want?" Jacky asked him warily.

"To speak with your mother. Is she in?"

"No."

"Then I will come in and wait."

"You can't!"

"You do realise that I own this property, and with your father in jail I can hardly be expected to leave you all in here!"

"Daddy hasn't done anything wrong."

"We'll let the Courts decide that young lady, though it may take months... "

Jacky bit her lip. Her natural instinct was to scream and kick at this man, but she knew that it would not help, that this man somehow was the key to her father's release from jail. She opened the door wider, before turning and walking away. Ngorro grinned and entered the villa. His eyes followed the retreating girls, young women really. He followed their strides as they walked ahead of him into the lounge and he enjoyed the short skirts and shapely legs. Ngorro liked looking at women's legs, at slim waists, full breasts, wide eyes and trembling soft lips. Not that he was a man who looked for long. Warm female flesh in his hands was sweeter than any amount of looking.

His gaze centred on Jacky's long shapely legs. She was wearing in his view an indecently short skirt that must have been six inches above her knees. An African woman would not wear such a short skirt, not unless she was standing under a streetlight late at night! White women seemed to give little regard to such matters. Not that Ngorro minded. The young woman's thighs were very full and shapely. He could easily imagine how little effort it was going to take to slide that skirt higher.

The fact that Jacky was a natural blonde emphasised the colour of her legs, a touch of tan did little to hide that her skin was rich, and full. He could easily see the soft skin of her inner thighs and his cock lurched at thought of how good it will feel to run his pudgy fingers in teasing circles up along that sweet flesh. He would love to run his tongue over that soft silkiness and taste the fresh succulent skin, to feel its the warmth on his tongue, to feel the young woman tremble as his tongue licked, circled and lapped as it slowly heading higher, to hold her as she shuddered and shook, trying not to become aroused and failing.

Ngorro considered himself a master of the lingual arts. This older daughter he was sure would be sweet and tasty delight, especially when she finally lost control and those shapely, lightly tanned white thighs clamped tightly around his head.

Women always lost control when he licked them, even if he had to tie them down first, he wasn't a brute after all! One of his greatest thrills to have a white woman experience a mind-bending orgasm as his tongue worked her, then rise and mount her while looking into the eyes of her shocked, and if he was lucky, distraught husband. There was no greater delight to Ngorro to mount a willing and excited white woman or girl in front of her husband or father. The look of an anguish in a father's eyes as he witnessed a loving, cared for, well brought up daughter excitedly spreading her thighs to allow Ngorro's seventeen stone bulk settle between her legs was a sweet delight.

Harare was full of strutting African males, with good looks and muscles and so it give Ngorro particular satisfaction to make a white female so sexually aroused that they forgot his age and obesity, and once he had thrust his cock up them the thickness of his cock seemed to draw them back. It was hilarious to see the look of disbelief on the face of husbands when they realised their pretty wife was not giving it up to a strutting black buck, but was eagerly offering it up to an overweight fifty four year old African with a pot belly.

Now he followed Jacky and Hayley into the lounge and sat in a comfortable chair near a patio entrance to the garden. Jacky and Hayley sat opposite him on a two seat sofa, while his bodyguard checked out the kitchen and searched the villa. As Jacky sat her short skirt rose higher, belatedly she sought to pull it down a bit and failed. She looked across at Mr. Luba hoping he had not noticed.

His gaze however was locked on Jacky's legs and she realised he was able to look between them! She crossed her legs, protecting her private parts from his lecherous gaze, but her action exposed a long length of shapely upper thigh. She glanced at Mr. Luba and was shaken by the naked lust exposed on his face!