As a Dodo
Pt 2
“I think she is pregnant.”
Michele’s words clanged around my brain.
“How many weeks, did the chastity iron break?” I asked.
“Many weeks, she never bled since she been here but that belly sure is swole.”
Victoria had been working as the suck slut in Micheles’ glory hole in his downtown Harare brothel for months since I decided to teach her a lesson for humiliating me in front of the blacks, I had personally welded a loop round her crotch to a loop round her waist making penetration just about impossible.
I arranged to go round there.
She was sitting in the courtyard, surrounded on all sides by buildings the courtyard allowed the necessary privacy for her to live naked under the hot sun, her pale skin now burned a dark brown, her tightly braided filthy brown hair burned black.
She looked at me with anticipation, hope even, not the hatred I expected.
“You’re fat” I challenged.
“I’m pregnant” she croaked
“How?”
“It’s your’s” she answered. “Fingers you remember?”
I remembered lubing her cunt with my cum, when I played with her.
“I wish to god it was not, but it is.” she muttered,
I looked at her, she looked about fifty, a broken hag.
“Whip Michele, beat the truth out of her.” I shouted.
“Yes whip me make me lose his bastard, go on kick me, beat me, go on.” she sneered. “Kill me, death is better than this.”
I dragged her to her feet and pushed the Iron Chastity frame against her pubes, she screamed as it bit into her belly before it touched her crotch, and when I tried from behind it was the same, no way had anyone fucked her.
“It’s yours.” she stated flatly. I placed my hands on her shoulders.
“Bloody Hell.” I exclaimed, “A kid, I don’t know what to say.”
“An offer of marriage is usual.” she said, sarcastically, as she dropped to her knees and knelt naked and filthy in the dirt.
I needed to think.
I went home and around eight I came back, she sucked me tenderly, through the side of her cubicle, whether she knew it was me or not I did no care but she brought me to nice climax like a professional.
I knelt down and spoke through the hole. “I don’t want a baby with a diseased fuck slut, so I will have it cut out for you.”
“Please no. I’ll do anything.” she whined.
“You’ll still do anything when the kid’s gone” I reminded her cruelly.
“Get it sorted,” I instructed Michele, leaving her to a further period of fear and uncertainty.
I assembled my team I, found a nurse through Jon Rapsenberg, Gloria was a typical black, big boned, large hips, robust, sort of girl who would have fifteen kids, and still want more, but she was starving, out of work and desperate for money. She had served as medic in the tribal regions until Mugabe decided that the tribe was disloyal and removed her funding, She hated what she had to do, but she needed to eat.
I had also recruited a young girl, Msala, she had a week old baby, she had been Erik Oldendorf ‘s maid and Erik had done regular STD and Aids tests and kept her in a chastity belt, so we figured her milk should be clean.
I took the Landcruiser, I drove, a couple of guys rode shotgun in the pickup section at the back with their AK47s and I collected Msala and Gloria from their shanties, Msala brought her kid and a small sack, I guessed it contained her worldly goods, and I drove slowly to the brothel, switching between fuel tanks and backwashing the fuel filters alternately using the system I had designed and installed to cope with Mugabe’s kerosene – water mix that passed for gasoline.
Victoria slept soundly on the filth and dirt of the courtyard floor, naked as always under the hot sun. Michele and I looked on as his dog pissed over her as it had been trained to do and yet still she slept. Gloria, our nurse, quietly threw up as she witnessed the scene, her stomach convulsing and shoulders heaving, as she emptied the pitiful contents of her bloated stomach.
Michele fetched a large wooden box like a coffin, and as she finished vomiting, Gloria laid out her tools, knives, needles, thread, on its rough surface. and wiped away some of the dust with a filthy rag. Michele woke Victoria with a vicious kick, she staggered to her feet, blinking and tried to get away from the box, but a few lashes from the whip brought obedience and she laid down.
Michele held her shoulders and I watched fascinated as the tip of Gloria’s knife started to penetrate Victoria’s stomach, the chastity cage impeded her access and Victoria’s screams increased to a crescendo as she realised she was indeed to be cut open in the hot dusty atmosphere of a courtyard without anaesthetic, Gloria steadfastly continued to cut, the knife was old and blunt, the blade pitted with rust and the handle cracked and bloodstained and it pulled at the flesh instead of parting it easily, a kitchen knife where a scalpel was really required.
The screams roused the household, faces appeared at windows as the other whores were woken and wished to see what was happening, they hated Victoria, she was burned as black as any of them but her thin lips and tight ass and delicate face bones still marked her out as a symbol of white supremacy, even though she was the lowest in their hierarchy, they knew that men would choose her over them, and the knowledge hurt, that they had rooms and chose who they fucked, while she had no choice was irrelevant.
Blood was wasting, leaking away, soaking into the filth as soaked with sweat Victoria continued to scream until at last she lapsed into the bliss of unconsciousness, and then quite suddenly Gloria plunged her unwashed hands deep inside Victoria and announced, “Its a boy.”
A tiny struggling pale pink animal the size of a rat emerged, it was so beautiful, it was my son, I looked down at Victoria, lying there, her once taut belly now bloated and cut open, her life blood leaking away, that toothless cunt of a mouth, her blackened skin, and filthy blackened hair and I realised that I loved her.
Gloria cut and tied the umbilical cord and picked up a filthy rag and wiped the slime from the little creature, he whimpered slightly, shocked at his premature ejection from the comfort of the womb.
Msala was waiting outside, Michele called her in and handed my son to her, she cradled him him so delicately like he was a glass figurine and soon he was at her breast and suckling. “You must be proud man Mr Handsom”
“It’s Hanson, but call me sir, and I am proud, yes.” I answered with a smile.
I watched as Gloria closed the wound, dainty stitches in the finest surgical thread then coarse ugly uneven cat gut for effect. I wanted Victoria to think she had been cut by a Tribal woman or witch doctor not a fully trained nurse.
Michele took Msala inside, out of the sun’s glare and Gloria and I waited until Victoria regained consciousness.
“It’s gone, the baby, its gone.” I told her.
“Gone, where.” she asked.
“Don’t ask, Gloria says you can start work again straight away, have you eaten?”
She shook her head and I sent Gloria to fetch some mush, all she could eat with her toothless gums. she could not know I had ordered it laced with vitamins, she would need building up after her ordeal, I had some bottled water, and we celebrated the birth of our son with mush and bottled water, she usually had to suck three or four customers before she ate so it was a real treat for her.
She finished eating, she was obviously in a lot of pain, but there were formalities to be done, forms to sign. birth certificates, death certificates for all she knew, Ido had supplied a set of self certification forms, the ones blacks usually used when their parents had not bothered to register their birth or they wanted a new identity because they killed someone or something, or had just nipped over the border. She refused to pick up the pen.
“There’s no reason you can’t sign, obviously you are officially dead but I kept your name, Victoria, and made up Ibsosolama.” I told her.
To my shocked surprise she refused, “I can’t”
“Why?” I asked,
“I lost my contact lenses weeks ago, I can’t see to write.”
“Just scrawl signatures.” I demanded and she took the pen and became in turn Victoria Ibsosolama. and Victoria Hanson, as she signed the marriage forms and then signed the birth certification form for our child, no way was my child going to be a bastard.
“You should be safe with this identity,” I told her, “Just say the War veterans took you and you cannot remember anything.”
She nodded, I continued. “If you ask nicely I will take the chastity frame off and you can work upstairs, fuck properly, have orgasms, would you like that?”
“No, not just now, thanks. will you still come to see me?” he mind was working again desperate to cling to me, her only link to her old life, she held my hand.
I pulled away from her and left her, I climbed into the Landcruiser and after strapping the new born into a child seat previously occupied by Msala’s child we set off Msala cradling her own kid on her lap..
I paid Gloria, she nearly fainted at the weight of gold I handed her, “Use it wisely.”
“It’s too much.” she said in disbelief.
“No, you did well, call it a bonus, and get out while you can.” I could see she knew she could no longer stay, she was too rich, she could escape to South Africa now, or Uganda, or Nigeria.
She asked me to stop and quickly sewed the gold into a filthy rag before she dared leave the car.
“Where to Msala?” I asked.
I knew she was struggling with her conscience.
“The orphanage.” We drove in silence, then as I drew up outside she picked up the tiny black bundle that was her daughter and took her inside the white marble portico of the children’s hell hole.
I followed her in, Mrs Chakubati the administrator motioned me across and on payment of a few dollars, she took the child. Msala looked relieved.
“I now can live again, thank you sir.” she said.
“It was half your wages for the year.” I lied. It was half her wages but I would still pay her, this was just a gift.
“It was good, I feel happier.” she said, “I don’t like the after abortion.”
“No” I agreed, when the husband died, before the woman gave birth in tribal regions, then the newborn child was left for the Hyenas or Lions, and still in the city tiny bundles were left to die on a regular basis.
Msala had been born to a middle class family, her father a lawyer, but he died when he criticised Mugabe , and she had slowly slid down society, unable to afford school fees her mother had sold her to Erik Oldendorf, who let her believe she was a servant, she was funny, good company, until she started getting interested in boys and Erik had taken her to bed. Sadly the baby was not Erik’s the chastity belt came too late, so when I needed a wet nurse and Erik wanted to be rid of her it all worked out very well.
Msala had things to learn, she dressed in jeans and a shirt with a brassiere like a European, her hair and been straightened and she actually wore a breast feeding bra. We strapped my little boy securely into a child seat I had brought and I drove from the City to a small village a few miles out, a tribal village. I stopped the Landcruiser.
“I shall buy you some new clothes” I told her.
The native women were all bare breasted, wearing skirts to their knees and barefoot. I picked up a skirt from a market stall and started haggling, then a second, and then I returned to the car. “your clothes.” I told her and handed her the two dresses.
She started to argue, but realised the futility of argument and stripped off her shirt and jeans to reveal her thong and the leather straps and lock of the chastity belt.
I took her bag and looked through it, the photographs I laid aside but the clothing I placed by the car, finally she took off her shoes, and pulled on a tribal skirt. Then she took off the bra and her tits tumbled out.
“Thong” I reminded her.
She slipped her underwear off and sadly added it to the pile.
I kissed the back of her hand, “You’re african, be african, now follow the Car, I shall drive slowly, it will help your feet harden.”
She followed obediently walking in the wheel tracks obediently in the sunlight, her tits swaying as she sang some pop song to herself, “She’s mine lads” I reminded my minders as they stared at her beauty.
The little one stirred so I let Msala climb into the car again and my son was able to drink his fill, she looked so lovely sitting there, with this albino rat eating her, that I changed my plans.
I took her home to my apartment in the Bank building, she found the crib easily enough in the small bedroom which they were to share but as soon as she had put him down for the night I unlocked her chastity belt.
“Oh sir, I thought you wanted my milk.” she giggled but as my fingers found the softness of her mound I knew she wanted me as much as I needed her, her flesh yielded so smoothly and easily to allow me into her haven, and the pent up tensions of the past days drained easily from her face as I fucked her, but she was no beauty, not to my eyes, and every time I shut my eyes I was fucking Victoria instead.
“I am going to change your chastity belt.” I told her as I withdrew, and with my prick stil wet from her juices I went to fetch my tools. She watched as I laid them on the floor, the small grey double cylinder of the gold rod insertion tool caught her attention but she dared not object as I placed it gently against her engorged clit. It fired, she screamed and then I was drawing the gold rod through curving it into a circle. She watched in stunned silence as I placed the heats shield against her, assembled the heat sinks and commenced to solder the ends of the ring together with the heat from my tiny blow lamp.
She continued to look in surprise as I took another toy from the box, an egg with a stalk with a ring at the end of the stalk.
I laid her on he back for the next bit, legs apart and high in the air and with the application of some lube the egg slid neatly into her anus. I clamped the hexagon on the shaft with a monkey wrench and unscrewed the ring, just the small shaft protruded from her and then I inserted a small hex key inside the hollow shaft and started to turn it.
“Aw” she squealed, the egg was changing shape as the gold petals making the egg shape were forced open by the action on the center block being pulled down by the screw thread, and as she started to complain I refitted the hook and strung a gold chain from clit ring to the new firmly embedded anal plug.
“Try to walk but don’t sit down.” I ordered.
She took a few steps then stopped, the chain was tickling, she tried to change its position but I knew it would nestle just within her lips.
“I don’t think I can stand this.” sir.
Her fingers sought to provide relief, and I took the chain away to let her play, she looked lovely, an animated ebony statue, I realised she could provide so much more than milk for my son.
I let her live as my nanny, the jeans reappeared, she asked nicely to be allowed to wear them, the anal plug was more trouble than it was worth and bras and shirts reappeared, but she had to learn to wear heels, that was the deal, and she wore an apron, nothing else, except high heels, when we were alone.
The months passed, little Jon, named after my friend, not spelled John like me thrived and I had sex on tap, little one was happy, and I had lots of time to sort through the safe deposit boxes, Mugabe’s scum had no idea what they had stashed and no one ever came to claim anything, so I scanned the obituaries and when everyone else had gone home I swapped things around.
My model making and engineering hobby was real useful, diamond filled gold crutches, Gold ballast in my model railway coaches, even gold rails, but the press was a sod to work and the rails really too soft, but screwed to a board and dirtied up they just looked like regular brass.
I literally lost count of how much I took, I did not care really, it was trickling home to England through all sorts of routes, but then disaster.
I caught Msala screwing the janitor.
I employed him because he was a half wit, but I had not bargained on him being hung like a donkey.
I sensed something was wrong, she seemed somehow satisfied before I took her to bed, I usually left the CCTV switched off but on a hunch I left it on and instead of the vault I spent some time in the main office. She emerged into the corridor minutes after I left and scuttled down towards the corner, the next camera failed to pick her up and I was confused until half an hour later the Janitor came into view of one camera and she appeared on the other heading back to my room, I caught up with her before she could hide the evidence, his spunk still spattered between her legs.
She was real scared, there was no need to hit her.
“You betrayed me.” she tried to look innocent, “With the janitor in the broom store.”
“I’m so sorry” she wailed, “it was only a small piece of gold.”
My mind reeled, they were stealing from me as well.
“You know the penalty?” I asked, we never reported theft, the thief was always caught in the act and shot.
“Yes, we will be shot.” she hung her head.
“You will be, but my son needs his milk, so serve him.”
I fetched my tools, and started to design something, something painful, I sat at my drawing board and checked pages of anatomy on the Internet then it came to me,
I called Msala in and sat her down beside me and started playing with her clit ring, she did nor want to respond, but she was incapable of resistance as I began to ease her lower lips apart, then I inserted a gauge inside her, a gauge I had made up some time earlier, I turned the screw expanding the outer diameter until I felt serious resistance.
Blood trickled from her lip where she bit it as she tried to stop herself from screaming, but I checked the gauge carefully and figured the baseline dimensions I needed.
She knew it was over when I took a condom and had her put it on me before I fucked her, she tried so hard to please me but it was too late, I could not take any chances, so I rose early the next morning, made some phone calls. Msala was playing with Jon, I felt sorry for her but she needed a severe lesson, she had fixed my breakfast, she was nervous clearly scared. I left her and went to work.
Around eleven a white woman and a couple of minders arrived, Jon Rapsenberg had recommended her, we went to my rooms and collected little Jon, he squealed, he liked Msala, he did not want to be separated from her, the woman just took Jon, and turned on her heel and left, no drama, little was said but Msala shrank back and cowered in a corner, she was scared, she needed to be, her reason for living had been taken from her.
By mid day the clothing I ordered had been delivered, Islamic type robes in local coarse cloth, the all enveloping one where the poor bitch looks out through two holes and speaks through a grille, I took the package to Msala, told her to strip and try one on, she tried to be sexy as she stripped, but my mind was on other things. The robe fitted perfectly hiding everything but her hands and her toes as she walked. I told her to pack her Western clothes as she would no longer need them.
She was naked again when I returned in the evening, the meal she prepared spoilt, she waited in frustration, then I took her to room 604.
I never thought she worried about her looks but she cried as I fired a gold rod through her nose not the middle bit, right through side to side.
“Why are you doing this?” she asked.
“Because you betrayed me.” I replied.
I had to use a hole punch on her tongue, so I could insert a screwed gold stud, and then she screamed and wailed as I curled the rod through her nose into a ring and led a thick gold chain from the nose ring to tongue stud before I soldered the ring closed.
It must have hurt, it grated against her teeth and pulled at nose and tongue, but the bitch would not be giving blow jobs in a hurry.
I tried the rod-gun on her legs, just above the ankles, I seemed to miss anything vital and soon she had a neat golden loop on each side of her legs, flat on the outside but a proper loop on the inside to which I padlocked a stainless steel chain. She bled a bit, but when I set her down she showed me she could hobble around, the chain preventing her from taking anything more than short steps.
The robe hid everything, local African Muslims slashed their wives faces before they made them take the veil on their wedding night in the belief that they would not then be attractive to other men, but who looks at a face when she is giving you a blow job or you are doing it doggy style? I decided facial slashing was a step too far so I watched TV. for a while before I went to room 604 with my drawings. She ate some porridge, she could not chew with the chain in, she was realising how foolish she had been.
I worked steadily with the gold rod I had made from melting down some trinkets, curving it into a complex shape, strong yet flexible, easy to insert impossible to remove, and I made the tools to insert and extract it from plastic pipe. It was a work of art, something a Medieval torturer would have given his right leg for, something an Arab would like his favorite daughter to wear.
It looked more like a golden bed spring than a contraceptive coil, gold, made of soft gold, it would fit neatly inside her, but within the encircling coils. running up the centre was a hardened shaft with a wicked three pronged spike, I had it worked out, the man would barely feel the spike as he thrust in but, as he pushed the spike would be forced outwards and the coils would be forced to expand jamming it ever more firmly into her and the spikes would be pulled ever more forcibly into his prick as he tried to withdraw.
I joined Msala about an hour before the Janitor started work, Msala was on the bed, naked playing with her clit ring, trying to show me what I was missing.
I held her in my arms, kissed her shiny smooth black neck, I played with her clit for a while then I just slid on a Condom and took her. she spread her legs as wide as she could given her ankles were chained together, I hope I gave her a good time, I could never compete with the donkey like appendage of her lover but I gave it my best shot, and then as she lay I took my golden coil and its hollow plastic tube applicator and slid it neatly inside her.
“Its protection, now go find your janitor friend tell him to go before I kill him, Oh just a minute.” I showed her the golden anal egg, “bend over.”
She was too scared to resist and soon I had slid it deep within her and expanded it to prevent easy extraction, but this time after expanding it I unscrewed the extension rod. allowing her anus to close.
“That should make it feel even better,” I told her, “but I think you will die of peritonitus if I don’t remove the plug, you can’t shit with it in so your bowel will swell and burst, so don’t run away, no one else can remove it.”
She twisted her head round to look at me, as I finished working on her ass, the look was one of sheer terror. but she had run out of options.
I sent her out to meet her lover “Tell him to run I said, I will shoot him as he crosses the car park,” The Computer on the desk was showing the CCTV pictures. “he has just arrived at the back door, go let him in.” She hobbled away, collecting her robe, and she headed for the back door.
I watched and listened to the CCTV as he greeted her and stared in disbelief, her had undressed her with a single movement and seeing her plight had tried to remove her mouth chain but he just tore her tongue making it bleed, she warned him about her coil as he checked her anus but found the egg blocking his entry and finally unable to restrain his animal instincts he pushed her against a wall and drove his manhood deep into her pussy.
His screams echoed around the building “Aaaaggggghhhh” a beautiful sound, a mans scream, somewhere in the high Baritone range pure agony, a sound rich but filled with passion., he tried to pull out, making her scream as the coil expanded into her and contracted onto him as the coils were forced into new shapes.
I often wondered about that moment, the realisation that something was piercing his penis, did he try to stop his thrust, I wondered? Did she feel the inward pressure of the base or the outward pressure as the coil was forced to expand, as I had designed it, but
I never envisaged such a scene as he broke into a frenzy writhing and thrashing as he tried to escape, squealing, screaming their cries mingling in a cacophony of agony..
Finally he tore the encircling coil free from her vagina, tearing her soft flesh, the gold coil had jammed and wrapped tightly around his prick as he tore it from her, their blood poured from between her legs., his and hers. She screamed with the pain of her lacerated cunt, while he looked in disbelief at his torn member encased in gold, he looked straight into the CCTV camera lens , screamed and turned and started to run out of the building, “Don’t leave me,” Msala cried as she lay in agony. but the Janitor slipped away, a fortune in gold weighing down his ruined prick, running aimlessly like a wounded animal, running away, with no idea where to run to.
I sent for the native doctor, she came with her tools and stitched Msala up, she chided me for the rings, “She is lovely girl, you are cruel” she told me.
I let her take the rings out, and the rods through the legs, she thought it was gold plated steel and was amazed it was gold, I let her keep a piece as a souvenir.
The doctor stayed a while, she stitched the hole in Msala’s tongue, and put bandages on her legs and stitched the wounds on her nose closed, and then she slipped away.
Msala dozed then woke. “You can hardly expect me to feel sorry for you,” I told her, “anyway you will live, its just a scratch or two, you do know I should kill you for stealing from me?”
She nodded.
I wiped the CCTV footage, and next morning the Police arrived, a trail of blood led from our back door, to where they found the Janitor three blocks away lying dead in a pool of blood, with his prick sliced off. I guessed the gold was too much for some Native to resist.
Msala was very weak, I thought she might die so I tried to recover my gold egg, getting it out of her anus was a pain, it had twisted and it took ages to pry it round with a screwdriver before I could get the extension rod screwed in and the hex key inserted so I could contract it and remove it but eventually it was out.
I called the native doctor again, she was surprised as Msala was recovering, “Will her cunt recover or is it permanently damaged,” I asked.
“The muscles are torn, I have stopped the bleeding but I can do no more, look,” she said as she removed her wristwatch and easily slid her hand inside the girl. “Many african women are this loose, a child each year and malnutrition, fifteen kids by thirty, she will be fine.” she removed her hand, It was barely smaller than mine. The idea of fisting a girl intrigued me.
I went to see Michele, Victoria was working, she was as brown as any native and seemed pleased to suck me as I presented myself to her through the hole.
I discussed the future with Michele and suggested he take Msala on.
He listened, I offered to deliver her without teeth as a Victoria replacement but he was interested that she was damaged, “She takes a fist?” he queried. I nodded.
“Then she is wasted here I shall contact my friend Mr Manser Smythe, he may have an opening for her.”
To be Continued.