Chapter 1

'Bugger!'

As her car crawled along the moonlit London street Hilary Irvine noticed with irritation that her usual car parking spot was taken. This would mean a longer walk to the entrance of her apartment block. For any attractive blonde twenty something such a lonely walk in a big city at this late hour would be a concern. For this particular BBC news journalist such a walk was perilous.

Some weeks ago Hilary had stunned the world with a series of reports on the white slave trade in Africa. Western governments suddenly woke up to the realization that when their attractive female citizens had gone missing it wasn't always because they had all been eaten by tigers, crashed their car over a ravine or joined a hippy cult. A significant number had been abducted and sold into sexual slavery - forced to serve the demands of some rich Arab or black man with a penchant for using and abusing white flesh.

Desperate to maintain the flow of Western aid into their Swiss bank accounts African leaders had ordered urgent action on the issue. Across all of central Africa slavers and slave masters had been arrested and swiftly executed. A swift execution preventing them from naming any government official with a Western sex slave of his own.

For several weeks news reports from Africa had featured dazed and naked white women been freed by grinning African police. Their freedom may have been achieved by these cops but the world knew that the impetus had come from Hilary Irvine - news reporter extraordinaire.

Hilary was immensely proud of her accomplishment and often gave interviews demanding more action in her earnest presenting style. The only thing lacking from her TV appearances was the embarrassing truth — she'd experienced the life of a white slave at first hand, spending almost three weeks getting whipped and raped across the dark continent.

Her fame and success had one drawback. For all the public executions Hilary was fully aware that the trade still existed. The demand for white flesh was too insistent, the money sloshing about the place too great. White slavers still plied their trade. And more than anything they all wanted one thing - to kill Hilary Irvine.

Eventually she found a parking place — fully four streets from her apartment. Feeling nervous Hilary remained in her car for a while anxiously scanning the road.

In the darkened street nothing, not even a cat, seemed to be moving.

Taking a deep breath Hilary stepped out of her car, locked it and moved off towards home.

Soon she noticed someone on the other side of the road, moving towards her. An assassin?

The figure stopped. Hilary's heart pounded in her chest.

"Dumb mutt! C'mon!" The man yanked on the leash of his pet and walked on.

In the next street a car slowly drove past the quickly walking newsgirl.

'It's moving slowly, ' Hilary thought, 'Too slowly!'

Suddenly incapable of breathing Hilary imagined the passenger's window winding down, gun barrel pointing out and a hail of bullets cutting her down...

Instead the vehicle continued on its way.

"No dammit!" she spat irritably, "I didn't survive hell in Africa to be frightened of shadows!" Taking a deep breath she strode on, slightly more confident than before.

Soon she found herself outside the entrance to her apartment block. After carefully checking to see that she wasn't been observed Hilary punched in the entrance code and entered. The moment the door closed behind Hilary let out a sigh of relief and her heartbeat slowed considerably.

Safe and sound!

As she walked towards the lift Hilary's thoughts turned to what else the night might offer.

Something in the shapely form of Suzi Turner.

Suzi had recently joined BBC news from some other channel. At first Hilary was a little concerned that her position as hottest newsbabe might be under threat. Suzi was a tall girl with big brown eyes. Her short dark hair framed her pretty face. Though she often wore business suits around the newsroom Hilary had seen from pictures of Suzi at awards nights that she had nice long legs and a simply fabulous pair of tits.

Hilary's concerns were allayed by Suzi's undoubted friendly nature. Particularly towards her. Suzi would often tell Hilary how much she admired her, how much she wanted to be like her. One day Hilary thought; short hair, business suit, no apparent boyfriend, the eagerness to be friends with me...

Hang on a minute!

Until recently Hilary would have regarded this as merely a flattering irritant. But that was before her African nightmare. There she had had enough cock to last a lifetime. Rammed, shoved and driven into her with beastial savagery. Hilary hadn't had sex since her return to London and to be honest didn't want any. Even the thought of a male member — erect, throbbing, stinking of sweat, a glint of pre-cum — filled her with revulsion.

But Hilary craved some intimacy and if that could be provided by Suzi why not?

In the newsroom Hilary responded to Suzi's attempts at friendship. Suzi was delighted and clearly made her eye contact last a little too long to be just friends. Hilary invited her round for coffee, they went shopping. When Suzi mentioned what a good cook she was Hilary invited her round for a meal ... an evening meal.

"I'll bring some wine and we can make a night of it!"

Now when the lift reached her floor Hilary stepped out smiling. She was in for a night of good conversation, a nice meal and some fine wine. And if ended with a lesbo sex romp? Fine!

Hilary hadn't felt desire towards a member of her own sex since she was 17. But now the thought of gently sucking Suzi's huge tits was really making her feel horny.

Her hand was trembling as she opened her front door. Her heart was pounding again. Hilary had once seen Suzi in a tight white satin top with her boobs practically bursting out. If she was wearing it now Hilary might forego the meal and get straight on to love tussle time.

"What the FUCK are YOU doing here?"

Standing in the middle of her lounge - in her Home, for fuck's sake — was a well-dressed, grinning black man from South Africa, Samuel Mbonga.

"Hilary!" admonished Suzi as she came out of the kitchen, "how could you be so rude to your old friend?"

She was wearing the white top. Plus a tight gray skirt down to her knees. Below that dark brown leather boots. Hilary wanted her so much it hurt.

"Yessir, Missy!" grinned Samuel as he brought Hilary back to miserable present, "Missy Hilary and me is going way back. Back to Africa."

He moved towards her and as Hilary froze gave her a hug. Hidden from Suzi's view his right hand swiftly moved to Hilary's butt cheek and squeezed. Not a playful touch but a grope so forceful it brought forth a gasp.

"Looking good, Missy Hilary!" he smirked, then dropped his voice to add, "Feeling good, too!"

"I assumed you and Samuel were friends," said Suzi bringing in a tray of drinks, "I hope it was OK to let him in?"

"Absolutely," answered Hilary forcing a smile.

Samuel was in no way Hilary's friend. True he had purchased her from a depraved old sheikh and subsequently set her free. But in the time between purchase and freedom Hilary had been his unwilling houseguest and distinctly unenthusiastic sex-toy. Worse was when his retarded friend Moses had turned up with his video camera. Together the trio had made a fake hostage video that gave the impression that the reasons for Hilary's abduction had been political rather than sexual. Once again Hilary had to use her body for payment in marathon three-in-a-bed sex sessions — some of which were videoed. The sound of the hateful Moses giggling away as her mouth worked on his cock, the camera 6 inches from her eye, was a memory that often featured in Hilary's nightmares. According to Samuel these videos were purely to give him a souvenir of Hilary's stay, but the threat of internet publication lingered in her mind.

"Drink, Samuel?" said Suzi, proffering a glass to the African who was grinning like a cat that had just got some cream. Some white cream with a blonde top.

Dully Hilary took her glass. She was starting to feel sick in the pit of her stomach.

'Samuel?' she thought, 'Dear God, does she like him?'

The possibility of Hilary gently caressing Suzi's naked body was receding fast. The horrible prospect of those fabulous knockers been chewed by a lustful Samuel was appearing over the metaphorical hills.

Hilary had to get rid of Suzi, fast. Samuel wasn't beyond suggesting a threesome. And unbeknown to Suzi Hilary was incapable of saying no when it came to sex with Samuel, not with that damned video been used for blackmail.

"Listen Suzi,..." said Hilary slowly, "Samuel and I have something to discuss..." "About the white slave trade? Some new scoop?" the brunette asked keenly. "Er ... yes ... but its ... confidential..."

The feeling of sick in her belly was growing. Now she was lying.

"OK" said Suzi with a pout of disappointment, "I'll be off."

Hilary saw her out. At the door the urge to reach out for a kiss or a squeeze swelled in Hilary's chest but instead a quick 'farewell' had to suffice.

Female tenderness left, male savagery sipped his drink.

"Nice girl" grinned Samuel, "Is she like you?" "How do you mean?" asked Hilary, anger rising. "Got a taste for black cock?"

Hilary took a deep breath and ignored the comment. "What are you doing here, Samuel?" she asked steadily.

Now Samuel ignored her. It would be fun to bait this stuck-up slut some more.

"If you'd been 10 minutes later I'd have made a play for her," he rolled his eyes and ran his tongue across his lower lip, "If you'd come back and heard me and yo friend banging in yo bedroom would yo have left us in peace?"

He put his drink down.

"Or stripped off and joined in?"

"Forgot Suzi!" barked Hilary, "Any business you have here is with me!" "OK, Ok,..." smiled Samuel, "Perhaps I'll see her if she ever come to Africa." "That won't happen," said Hilary turning away, "Suzi is been sent to the Middle East."

Samuel smiled his toothy grin again, but said nothing. Missy Hilary was lying! And he knew it!

Before Hilary's arrival he and the fat-titted white girl had been chatting. Missy Suzi's next assignment was in Nigeria. He'd already found out when she left and what hotel she'd be staying in. Casually and in as friendly a way as possible he'd let Suzi know that Samuel Mbonga had contacts across the whole of Africa. His dick had swelled when he saw how pleased she'd been to hear this.