PROLOGUE

 

Lilith Taylor gave her flight-attendant colleague a cunning smile of reassuring sympathy, for the arrogant she knew only too well how to deal with the supposed African troublemaker.

BA flight 088 to Kansas City was barely forty minutes in the air and already some black bastard had had the effrontery to complain about a few tiny brats from the back of the aircraft making their screaming way up to invade the precious sanctuary of the first class lounge.

She'd made a quick appraisal of the irate passenger and concluded he was a Nobody, so she decided to be insufferably cool with the upstart.

'Now, my love ─ you cannot monopolise my time with trivia─'

Mkomo couldn't believe his ears.

'I beg your p─'

'Hate children, do we?' She sneered down her aquiline nose at him and made sure to give him a good eyeful of her ample cleavage.

Love to get to get your wog's hands on these, wouldn't you?

'What did you just─?'

'Now, now ─ I'll have to ask you to control yourself ─ otherwise I'll be forced to report the incident to the flight crew─'

What fucking incident?

'─ and we all know where that might lead, don't we? Now, do you really want to spend the rest of the flight in handcuffs to be met by the Kansas City police on touchdown?'

Her delicate nostrils flared with joy as she felt the growing explosive heat of his anger. How she just loved to drive innocent male passengers to the brink of raging insanity!

Daniel Mkomo ground his teeth in helpless rage. One word from her ─ especially in these troubled times ─ and he knew he could find himself in serious trouble. And she clearly revelled in her power to abuse her authority ─ the fucking little ─

So he did nothing. He swallowed the unimaginable insult to his person and endured the rest of the flight in furious silence but he made sure he memorised the name tag pinned to her uniform.

That information would be handed to his kidnap team ─ He made himself a blood-curdling vow that in the very near future, the insufferable little bitch would find herself oh-so-nude and utterly helpless in a distant cell within the walls of his personal harem ─ and then she'd be singing him a far, far different tune.

Lilith turned in a cloud of expensive duty-free perfume and made her way back to the front of the cabin, her lush buttocks swing seductively from side to side. She gave her admiring colleague a wink with one eye.

'That's how it's done!' she cried and the two girls began to snigger...

CHAPTER ONE

 

Albert Denton poured himself another hefty swig of Courvoisier and continued scouring the adult channels in the vain hope of finding something that might actually turn him on.

Hetero, lesbo, oral and anal, group sex, shaggy dog shagging, fake schoolgirls, inter-racial gangbangs, voyeur shower scenes, solo-girl frigging, squealing sybian masturbators, mother and daughter dildo lessons and glory-hole cock-suckers and

None of it worked.

Not after the harem.

His cock wasn't having any of it ─ so he raised a weary eye to look about the penthouse instead.

The ultimate in luxury ─ Open-plan, state-of-the-art exclusivity right here in the heart of London's Knightsbridge.

How many three-grand-a-night call girls had he brought back here?

Russian birds.

Drop-dead, fucking gorgeous.

Six?

A dozen?

Same bleeding difference.

Couldn't get it up, could he?

No wonder ─ after all, what could possibly compare with the real live rape of three nubile teenage slave girls or the beating and forced fucking of an utterly nude and helpless Philippa De Winter?

Man, imagine being let loose for another bout of Texas Hold'em with those simpering, cowering Lone Star triplets!

So, Albert, me old son ─ there were some things that money couldn't buy after all.

And money he had ─ in spades.

Or should he say buckets.

Fuck-snakes!

When he opened that safety deposit box in Zurich and saw all those unbelievable piles of hard cash ─

Jesus!

All 223,000 of it ─ in Pounds and Dollars and Euros ─

Philippa De Winter ─ you sly little fox!

And of course, he'd gone apeshit for the first couple of months, hadn't he?

Spend, spend, spend ─ like there was no bleeding tomorrow ─ Piss-ups and nosh-ups and the best of threads and a Merc convertible downstairs in his private parking space and some serious bling to flash in the boozers ─

But all that soon palled. He was still on his Jack Jones with absolutely no interest in the gold digging little whores that miraculously began to appear about him.

What was he? Born fucking yesterday?

All lovey-dovey and trying to give him that load of old romantic bollocks ─ But he knew the score ─ Anyway, where were they when he needed them?

Nah, they were only sniffing after his money.

OK ─ he got a couple of blowjobs out of them before he showed them the road and he half-got off on the looks of outrage on their mean little faces, but nothing really satisfied.

Nothing in his poor head but the relentless longing to get himself somehow back in again through the gates of a far away African paradise.

Lungara, in the land of the leopard.

Daniel Mkomo could have the penthouse and the money.

Gratis.

Anything he wanted ─ Why, Denton would happily spend the rest of his natural cleaning the harem latrines just for the chance to get his aching cock back into Philippa De Winter.

And what about those three blonde cheerleader sisters!

Ah, for fuck-sakes ─ he'd pay the leopard for the freedom to help himself again to a daily triple dose of that delectable teenage Texas totty ─ to feel his throbbing prick buried up to the hilt in those delicious hairless slots and mouths and squeaky-clean assholes ─

Arrgh!

It was driving him fucking crazy!

He still had one tenuous link left to hump-heaven, though.

He'd been savvy enough to keep the original invite to Mkomo's pussy-palace with its now precious phone number, for he knew the leopard retained a legal brief in every major city in the world ─ so down he'd gone to Lincoln's Inn with his heart in his mouth, wondering how he was going to tell the lawyer what he was really after ─ but he needn't have bothered. The highbrow copped it on straight away.

Denton had sat there with his face on fire, certain the bastard was laughing at him on the inside, but on the outside the bloodsucker acted like it was nothing more than a request for a holiday visa.

He promised Denton that he'd pass on the message, but more than that he couldn't give the suffering man.

'Sorry old chap, but it's simply not possible for me to speed your request. I'm afraid you'll just have to wait. I will of course contact you when ─ er ─ if I hear something.'

And that had been that.

Three months later ─ and still nothing.

Maybe Mkomo wanted shot of him. Maybe the geezer felt that he'd paid him off for the fracas in London and Denton knew the African had done more than enough for him by handing him De Winter's money and her property on a silver plate.

Fucking hell, Albert, but you've got some front trying worm your way back into the harem ─after all Mkomo has done for you! What more do you want, for fuck's snakes?

What more?

Cunt!

That's what.

Snatch

Cooze

Twat

Pussy

That's what he really wanted.