The master_s revenge


    The southern plantation owner, whose skin was as white as milk, sat in his over-stuffed easy chair in the corner of the large, plush livingroom inside his mansion.

    His name was Bernard Cornfield and he was one of the richest – and meanest – men in the whole south. He turned lazily and found himself looking at his Negro butler, Jones.

    Jones had his faded palm beneath a tray upon which was Bernard Cornfield's afternoon mint julep. A sprig of mint stuck up greenly from the top of the long, thin glass.

    The glass was three-quarters filled with crushed ice – just the way Bernard liked it. He thanked Jones kindly and the butler turned to leave.

    "Oh, Jones?"

    "Yes, Master?"

    "Ain't there one of them nigger girls I bought last week left to be whipped?"

    "Yes, Master. The one named Tammy Taylor. She is the youngest and the smallest."

    "Ah, yes. I was saving her for last purposefully," Bernard said with a sigh.

    "You want me to fetch her for you, Master?" Jones asked, his thick lips parted.

    "That would be good, Jones, but in ten minutes, after my drink," Bernard said.

    "You want me to bring her straight here to you?" Jones asked politely.

    "No, Jones. Bring her down to the torture room, to save time," Bernard said.

    "Yes, Master," Jones said. The Negro turned and left the livingroom. Bernard sipped his drink and felt the ache growing in his balls.

    If his wife – Annabelle – ever found out that he was messing with the nigger poontang there would be hell to pay. Only the slaves knew – and they were under strict orders never to mention Bernard's sexual activities to the lady of the house.

    Annabelle – luckily for Bernard – was always off riding her horses or shopping in the nearest Georgia town, which happened to be called Stocking Post.

    Bernard finished his drink, looking out the window at his massive plantation. The Georgia red clay had been worked and fertilized by the slaves until it yielded crops that would have been unheard of twenty-five years before. It was the nineteenth century, and agriculture was vastly improving. Each year Bernard managed to make a little more money than the year before. That meant he could buy more slaves – and not just the black bucks who put their sweat into the farm, but the succulent nigger cunts as well, which Bernard loved to torture and fuck just about more than anything else in the world.

    Bernard had a boner inside his pants by the time he finished his drink. He set the glass down and meandered toward the front room where the door that led down to the basement was.

    He quickly went down the rickety stairs into his private torture chamber. He never had to worry about Annabelle discovering his torture chamber. His wife would not have been caught dead in the basement of the mansion. It was dark down there and she might get her dress dirty.

    Bernard lit the lamps along the walls as he went down. He was surprised that he arrived in the basement before Jones with the little nigger cunt.

    When Jones did bring down the girl, Bernard could see right away that the petite pussy was all upset. Her eyes were red and swollen and her face was stained with tears. Little Tammy Taylor knew that she was about to be whipped – because she had been saved for last – and she had never been so scared shitless in her entire life.

    "This is Tammy," Jones said. "Master Cornfield."

    "Pleased to meet you, Master," Tammy said weakly.

    "You can go now, Jones," Bernard said sternly.

    "Yes, Master," Jones said, and headed back up the stairs.

    The little black girl was wearing a burlap dress that was hemmed well above her knees. She was the littlest and the cutest of the new slaves Bernard had recently acquired.

    "Tammy, you are a beautiful little girl," Bernard said. He licked and smacked his lips obscenely. Tammy could feel a million butterflies flopping around inside her tummy – just as if they all wanted to get the hell out of there.

    The little slave could feel her heart pounding as it had never pounded before. Her ticker felt like it wanted to beat its way right out of her chest.

    The diminutive nigger cunt could feel the icy sweat of her terror oozing from each and every pore in her body. The scent of her funk wafted up toward her hot nostrils – which were remarkably closed for a girl of her race. Bernard looked at her beautiful face and her golden brown skin and he could tell that – genetically speaking – there was a little cream in her coffee somewhere along the line. "She had a little human in her," as Bernard was fond of saying.

    "How old are you, Tammy?"

    "I don't know, Master."

    "I'll bet you ain't even sixteen," Bernard said.

    The girl shivered and was silent.

    "You ever been whipped before?"

    "No, Master."

    "How come?"

    "Where I was before, the slaves was only whipped when they disobeyed. I always obeyed."

    "Things are different here. There been too many revolts in this county, niggers getting shot on account of they got uppity and tried to make a run for it. I like my niggers to know who's the boss right from the start. Everyone gets a whipping. You are so beautiful I may want to whip you once a week. We'll have to see. Your skin is so beautiful. It will be even more beautiful after it has been marked by my whip."

    Tammy could see in the indirect illumination in that torture chamber, that there were many whips on display on the far wall. The walls were made of stone.

    There were no windows.

    She could see that the center of the room dominated by a large slab table. There ware chains and cuffs at the four corners of the table. She knew those were there so that little girls – such as herself – could be bound in a spread-eagled fashion.

    Tammy could see that there were human skulls dangling from the ceiling of that dark and creepy ceiling.

    She could tell they were real.

    There was other torture equipment on a long table that ran the entire length of the wall furthest from the entrance – equipment that the little nigger cunt could not immediately identify.

    "You ever been with a man?"

    "Pardon me, Master?"

    "You ever been fucked?"

    "Yes, Master."

    "I suppose your last master popped your cherry."

    "No, Master. I got me a man."


    "His name be Jonah."

    "Oh, yes. He's been fucking you? Good. I hope he knocks you up and you make babies like a bunny. I could use a little return on some of my cunt investment. Seems like I should get more out of the deal than a sore cock."

    "Yes, Master," Tammy said – even though she was not entirely sure what he was talking about.

    "I remember Jonah. The big buck I bought at the same time I got you. The one with the good teeth. I like good teeth in the mouth of my slaves. It looks good when I have company over."

    "Yes, Master."

    "That's something I should tell you know, because you are going to have to know sooner or later. I throw a lot of parties and there are a lot of male guests. You will be doing domestic chores during these parties, serving food and drinks. But that's not all. Remember, when I have company, you must obey all of the guests just as you would obey me."

    "Yes, Master."

    "If one of them, or three of them for that matter, men I mean, want to take you down here and whip you and fuck you, then that is their right. If you disobey I'll just have to cut off old Jonah's gonads – and then he won't be no good to your cunt no more."

    "Please don't do that, Master."

    "Then you understand the rules?"

    Tammy nodded.

    "Good, now get out of that rag dress so's I can see what you got," Bernard said. He could feel the hot blood of his masculine arousal pumping into both the head and the shaft of his cock.

    Bernard Cornfield could tell that his cock was getting a little bit longer, a little bit thicker, and a little bit harder with each beat of his hard.

    The white master could feel the ache in his balls getting worse rapidly too. His testicles felt as if they had swollen to twice their normal size by that time.

    His dick felt like it was going to come bursting right out of the crotch of his increasingly tight trousers.

    He could feel his thick jism swimming around his swollen glands of manhood inside his scrotal sack impatiently.

    The little girl lifted her dress up over her head. Her head got caught inside for a moment but then tugged free. She was barefoot and naked beneath her burlap dress. She stood before her brand new master every bit as naked as the day she was born.

    "Precious. Very precious," Bernard Cornfield said. He liked his nigger poontang on the diminutive side – and Tammy sure did fit the bill. She looked even younger than she was – and that was just fine with the white man. His motto had always been the younger the better when it came to nigger poontang.

    He could see that Tammy Taylor stood only an inch or two over five feet tall – and there was no way she weighed more than ninety-five or a hundred pounds.

    She had her kinky hair braided and held in place with many little pink bows. Her face was round and very cute. She had features that looked as if they should have been painted on the face of a Negro doll.

    Her skin was very smooth. She had a perfect complexion. It was clear to anyone who looked at Tammy that she had never suffered from a facial blemish.

    Her eyebrows and her eyelashes were just as black as the hair on her head. In spite of the fact that she had never plucked them, her eyebrows grew slenderly, and femininely angular.

    Her eyelashes were very long and curled upward at their tips. They were longer than the lashes of any of the white women Bernard knew – and the white women wore mascara to lengthen and thicken their lashes. The slaves, the female slaves, were not allowed such vanities – of course.

    Her eyelashes were so long that they licked lightly at Tammy Taylor's high cheekbones each and every time she blinked. Her nose was remarkably slender – almost pointy at the tip – but she had the thick sensuous lips of her race.

    In spite of her diminutive stature – Tammy had extraordinarily large breasts. Her tits were not only big, but they were perfectly shaped. The man could feel his mouth watering when he got his first look at her tits. He had seen them at the auction when he bought her – but he had forgotten just how delicious they were.

    Her tits were firm and full with youth.

    Her breasts were both pert and perky.

    They rested very high on Tammy's chest.

    Her nipples pointed slightly upward.

    Tammy's tits were rounded at their bottom and sloped at their tops. They curved back toward her armpits, making her waist look almost painfully thin. She did have a slender waist. Indeed, it only measured twenty-two inches.

    Her nipples were the color of chocolate. Her pupils were actually dark brown – but they looked just as ebony as her hair in the limited illumination in Bernard Cornfield's creepy torture chamber.

    Her hips were rounded both at the sides and the rear. Her ass cheeks were every bit as smooth as when she was a baby. Her thighs were smooth also and tapered gracefully and perfectly from her round hips to her unscarred knees. Her legs were not long but they were shaped the way a woman's legs are supposed to be shaped. Her calves were rounded but not overly muscles. Her ankles were trim and her feet were dainty. The master could not help but notice that the little girl's toes were chubby and cute. Her toes, which were wiggling against the bare wood floor, were all very close to the same length, including her two big toes.

    He could see that the diminutive slave had very little pubic hair. Most of the nigger wenches had shaggy kinky hair all over their mounds, along the sides of their pussies, in between the cheeks of their ass, and even sometimes sprawling out unattractively onto the insides of their thighs.

    But Tammy had none of this.

    She simply had two curls of black hair which grew above and to the sides of her clitoral foreskin, at the very face of her sloping mound.

    Less than a third of the little girl's mound was covered with hair – and the hair that did exist, Bernard Cornfield could tell – was downy soft.

    Judging from the little girl's mound, the white master correctly assumed that she was completely bald along the outermost edges of her vulva. He correctly assumed that she was equally hairless in the cleavage between her delicious round and brown ass cheeks.

    "Now I want you to get upon that table and stretch out," he said.

    It was clear from the tone in the man's deep baritone voice that he was not then – nor would he ever be – in the mood to take no for an answer.

    He was not making a request.

    He was giving a command.

    "On my belly or my back, Master?" Tammy inquired.

    "On your belly. First the whip," he said with a laugh.

    "Please have mercy on me, Master."

    "You are a little fool. Mercy! Ha! I don't even know the meaning of the word," the man said. He laughed an intrinsically sadistic laugh, throwing back his head.

    Tammy trembled worse than before.

    She could feel the muscles in her shapely gam's getting weaker by the second. The muscles in her legs felt as if they had been turned to gelatin.

    Her knees were shaking.

    Tammy Taylor was not at all sure how much longer her legs were going to be able to support the weight of her body – all ninety-seven pounds of her. Such was the toll her terror was taking on her diminutive black body. She was wet and slick with sweat. The man could smell her funk. There were many white men who didn't mess around with the nigger poontang on account of they found the scent too strong. Bernard was just the opposite.

    There were few things in the world the white master liked better than the smell of nigger cunt. He loved the way it burned his nostrils and his sinuses a little. The scent of a slave pussy always intoxicated him. He liked his cunts dark, with lots of gravy!!!

    The little girl managed to get over to the wooden slab torture table before her shapely legs gave out on her.

    She stretched herself out on her belly – just as she had been instructed. The man wasted no time getting the torture session started. He was still chuckling a little to himself when he grabbed her slender left wrist with his huge right paw.

    Bernard Cornfield pulled the little girl's arm up over her head toward the steel cuff at that corner of the table. She rested her right cheekbone against the hard wood. She could feel her tits being pressed flat against the torture table. Her nipples were erect and hard and throbbing with her fear.

    He pulled the little girl's arm so hard that there was a frightening moment or two when Tammy thought he was going to break that wing.

    She feared he would break it either at the wrist or the elbow. Indeed, he pulled until her was locked in the straight position.

    Tammy's eyes were very expressive. They twinkled with merriment when she was with Jonah – yet they could look dull and somber when she was with a white man.

    Here eyes welled with tears and then overflowed. Her salty rivulets of despair and terror ran down the sides of her face and dripped onto the table.

    Some of the little tears made it all the way to the corners of her trembling lips – and then onto her slightly thickened tongue.

    Her tears tasted terrible.


    It was as if that saltwater had been tainted and made poisonous by the acute fear the girl was experiencing.

    She knew that her master's whip was going to hurt worse than anything she had ever known before.

    She knew that her master's whip was going to hurt more than anything she could possibly have imagined.

    The man clamped the steel cuff around the little girl's wrist, tighter than it was supposed to be. She winced and let out a squeak of pain.

    Tammy learned at the last second that the insides of those cuffs were sharply toothed, so that they bit into her wrist flesh causing great agony.

    She could tell that the cuff was leaving an ugly ring around her wrist – a ring that would remain long after the cuff had been removed.

    The sharp teeth on the insides of that cuff were breaking the skin in a couples of laces – making the nigger cunt bleed a little bit.

    Bernard liked drawing blood.

    He liked the smell of blood.

    He liked the taste of blood!

    The cuff was so tight around the little girl's wrist that it completely cutoff the circulation of blood to her entire left hand. Her fingertips bulged and changed color, becoming a much darker shade of brown.

    Her fingertips were filled temporarily with pins and needles. She could tell that it couldn't be long before the tips of the digits on that hand were completely numb, the feeling sucked away by her master's bondage.

    Tammy tried to wiggle her fingers at the knuckles – and she found to her horror that she could only do this with an ever-increasing amount of difficulty.

    Tammy knew that her fingers would soon be rendered immobile by the steel restraints Bernard Cornfield was administering at that moment.

    Seconds after the man clamped the first cuff in place her circled all the way around the table – moving with amazing brace and coordination for a man his size.

    He moved like a cat.

    He was a wild jungle beast.

    He moved about the torture table as if he were encircling his helpless prey. His cock was thoroughly engorged with the hot blood of his masculine arousal, making a huge bulge in the crotch of his tight trousers.

    He repeated the process with the other arm and soon Tammy could not feel anything more in her right hand then she could in her left. She could not wiggle the fingers on either hand any longer. He then moved to the foot of the wooden torture table.

    Bernard Cornfield grabbed both of the little girl's trim ankles at the same time, one in either hand.

    He imagined himself making a wish over a wishbone – and then pulled her legs apart with a single outward sweep of both of his strong arms.

    He opened her up.

    Tammy could feel her thighs parting to a perfect ninety-degree angle – and then further. He separated her legs to an obtuse angle. Her feet were pointing toward the corners of the wooden slab at the foot, where the other two steel cuffs were waiting. The balls and sole of her feet – like Tammy's calloused palms – were much lighter than the rest of her body. Friction wore the color right off, Bernard figured.

    The little girl could feel the lips of her teenaged pussy and the cheeks of her baby soft ass parting along with her shapely legs. He clamped the cuffs on her ankles – again drawing blood on spots.

    Her toes became numb.

    She was bound stringently.

    Both her elbows and her knees were locked in the straight position. She had been chained to the torture table so that she could not move a muscle.

    Tammy found that the only part of her body that could move was her head. If she strained she could lift her head from the table a few inches. She could even turn her face from side to side a little bit. But the little girl quickly discovered that this took so much energy that it was not worth it.

    The man then crossed the large torture chamber to the wall where his many whips were displayed. He had whips of four and five lashes. The leather lashes also had varying knots tied in them. Some of the lashes had been soaked in a special brine solution so that they would mark the skin upon impact.

    Tammy knew her ass cheeks would never look the same. From that point on – for the rest of her useless life – her ass would bear the marks of Bernard Cornfield's whip. She tried to preserve her dignity. She said a silent prayer.

    She did not want to grovel. She did not want to shame herself by crying out with the pain. She prepared to bite her fleshy bottom lip in an attempt to stifle her inevitable exclamations of agony.

    The man chose his most vicious whip.

    It had a leather handle molded to fit Bernard's hand.

    The whip was of the five-lash variety and soaked in brine. He knew that this whip – when used properly – caused more pain than any of his others.

    He wasted no time.

    Once he had the whip in his palm he moved to the side of the torture table. He could see the girl's muscles jerking with her dread. He gripped the handle of the whip so hard that each and every one of his knuckles turned even whiter than they were already. He was right-handed.

    Bernard raised his right arm high over his head at that point.

    He then brought the whip down as hard as he could and jerked upward with his strong wrist at the last second to crack the lashes.


    Tammy heard the loud sound of the whip on her flesh a fraction of a second before she felt the pain. The time lag was the same she had noticed after stubbing her toe. It took a long second for the pain to make its way through her terrified nervous-system to her already reeling brain.

    The sound of the whip alone was enough to make the girl wince. The whip sounded like a shotgun blast as it cracked off both of her ass cheeks at the same time.

    Then she did feel the pain.

    It didn't take long for Tammy Taylor to realize that all efforts on her part to stifle her cries of agony were to be in total vain.

    Her efforts were futile.

    "Aaaarrrrgggghhhh!!!!" the nigger cunt screamed.

    She could feel each and every nerve-ending in her body being affected by her pain – a pain that was, indeed, more intense than any discomfort the diminutive slave had previously known.


    She jerked violently once again. The pain from the first blow had only just begun to fade when it was renewed to its agonizing fullest.

    She screamed again – but this time the exclamation was not as loud, nor as long. She was already becoming exhausted. She involuntarily tried to twist her arms and legs to get her ankles and wrists free – even though she knew in her conscious mind that there was no way she could wriggle herself free in a million years. She found that her struggling only made the teeth on the insides of all four cuffs bite into her flesh that much deeper.


    Her eyes were so swollen from her weeping by this time that she found she was having an ever-increasing amount of difficulty blinking.

    The insides of her eyelids suddenly felt as if they were made of a particular rough kind of emery board. She felt all cried out, she sobbed but no tears came.


    This time the man sensed that the nerve-endings in her ass were becoming numb, so he whipped the back of her left thigh instead, so that the horrible pain would be as fresh as ever. She felt close to passing out.

    The entire room was spinning. She prayed that she could lose consciousness and find the blessed peace of sleep. She could not feel pain in her mind unless it was awake. She stayed awake through the entire whipping however. She was merely moaning, and gurgling in her throat, at the end. She was completely exhausted. She felt as if she would not be able to get off the table, even if the cuffs were removed. Every muscle in her body was aching.


    "Was it bad, honey?" Jonah asked Tammy as she staggered into their shack. She almost collapsed and he caught her in his strong, strong black arms.

    "I tried to be brave," she said. She began to cry big tears once again, her face pressed against the side of Jonah's thick, sinewy neck.

    "I know you did, honey. I know you did," he said. He accidentally touched a spot where the whip had found its mark and she jerked away from him.

    "I'm gonna have to wash you, Tammy. It's gonna hurt, but you'll feel better after. Now, can you put your arms over your head. Good girl. Let's get this dress off you," Jonah said.

    The dress, which had bloodstains on it, was removed. Jonah felt a little sick to his stomach when he saw what had happened to his woman.

    She was striped with welts. He had her stretch on the bed on her belly and heated water over a fire. He washed her with soap and water and she whimpered bravely throughout the procedure, biting her forearm.

    When he was done he patted her dry and sat down on the bed to caress her precious little face. They didn't need to say anything. They only had to look at one another.

    They loved each other very much.

    "Baby, you are so good to me," Tammy said. "I want to show you how much I love you."

    "You might be a little sore for fucking, Tammy," Jonah said. "I can skip a day. I be old enough to control my manly urges."

    "I know, but you shouldn't have to. I be your woman now, Jonah – and I aim to keep you satisfied!!!"

    "I must be the luckiest man on the face of the earth," he said.

    "Huh! Look at you! A slave, the luckiest man in the world," she said.

    "Because I got you, baby," he said. He kissed her mouth gently. Her lips were dry, but they responded to him. Her lips seem to moisten with his mouth's caress. Her mouth became a living thing, with a mind of its own.

    "I want to suck you off, Jonah," she said in a whisper.

    "You don't have to. I tell you I can w…" Jonah started to say. Tammy stopped him by placing a gentle forefinger across his lips. She got up slowly and knelt before him.

    "I don't feel like a woman, Jonah, unless I pleasure my man – and I need to feel like a woman real bad right now," Tammy said, her voice cracking.

    "Go ahead baby. You an angel!" Jonah said. He was already naked from the waist up, his coal black skin slick and shiny from the sweat of the summer heat. The humidity was near saturation. Everything was sticky and everything dripped. Including the diminutive black girl's pussy.

    Tammy reached up with trembling fingers and undid the rope belt that held Jonah's loose cloth trousers up. He could feel himself getting a mighty black boner!

    Jonah was a lot larger that Tammy – and those around them often wondered how she handled such a large man. Jonah was well over six feet.

    He weighed more than twice what she did. He was a horse. A black stallion stud. He had a handsome face and the body of an Adonis. He had been created by God to let the rest of the world know what physical perfection was. Bernard Cornfield had paid a pretty penny for Jonah. Needless to say, Jonah was the Cornfield Estate's most productive worker six days a week.

    Jonah's shoulders were extraordinarily broad and his entire upper torso had great girth. He had thick slabs of muscle across his shoulders, leading up the back of his neck, across his chest and between his amazingly broad shoulder blades.

    In spite of the massive girth of Jonah's upper torso, he had a slender waist and trim hips. There was a great ratio between the measurements of his chest and waist.

    There, were times when Tammy could not look at her man – especially when he was buck naked – without thinking that he was built especially by God for fucking.

    For fucking her.

    He had very thick thighs. They agreed that one of his thighs was the same size, or a little bigger, than Tammy's waist. He had very long legs.

    His hands and his feet were extraordinarily large – as was another all-important part of his masculine anatomy. Tammy pulled down his trousers and his stiff cock popped out.

    She smiled with glee as she looked at that ebony monster bobbing up and down in front of her large eyes. The tip of his cock came very close to touching the tip of her nose.

    Jonah's cock was a good nine and three-quarters inches long – but it had never been the length of Jonah's cock that impressed Tammy so much.

    It was the thickness of that pole that really shook her up. She could see that his cock was as thick as her wrist – maybe a little thicker.

    She could see that Jonah's black prick was thickest at the head. His cock looked like a baby's arm – a baby's arm holding an apple in its tiny fist.

    The head of Jonah's cock pushed well out from under its foreskin when his tool of manhood was thoroughly engorged with the blood of his horniness.

    She thought that the head of her man's tool was shaped like a grossly overgrown acorn – the kind from which mighty oak trees grow!!!

    She knew that she would have to open her mouth as far as she possibly could to suck him. Obviously, she had been through this routine before.

    She could see that the skin covering the head of Jonah's dick was stretched smooth and almost frightening thin. The glans looked as if it would explode if another drop of blood tried to pump its way inside.

    That skin was very smooth – the smoothest thing Tammy had ever touched. The shaft of his cock was only slightly skinnier than the head. But it was just as hard – as hard as granite.

    The tip of his cock was snapping upward toward his flat belly as Jonah stepped out of his trousers one foot at a time. His cock was bobbing up and down as if it were attached to his loins via a tightly sprung hinge.

    As the tip of his dick snapped upward Tammy found herself looking at the underside of Jonah's cock, where many veins were protruding from the surface.

    Those veins ran up and down the entire length of the man's cock and gave it a craggy look. His dick look gnarled and angry. She felt as if there were part of this man that was part animal – just like the white men claimed. He could really turn into a beast when his libido was acting up, she knew that much for sure.

    She found herself looking at the little hole at the tip of his dick – the hole where his piss and come came out. The mouth that had little lips on either side of it. That mouth was opening and closing rhythmically from the spasms Jonah was experiencing down there ax that moment.

    The mouth looked as if it were trying in vain to sing.

    "Oh, baby, you know how you make me feel," he said.

    "I know I make you awfully big. I hope you fit in my mouth."

    "I will – if you want me to enough," he replied quickly.

    "Oh, I do. I do," she said. She lowered her eyes to his nuts.

    Jonah's balls – like his cock, were the largest she had ever seen. They were the size of horse balls. His sack was so large that there was no way the little girl could hold the entire thing in the palm of her cupped hand at one time – no matter, how far apart she stretched her dainty fingers.

    By the same token, the little girl could not get her fingers all the way around the shaft of his cock when she tried to make a fist about the girth of his manhood.

    She could see that the man's scrotal sack was filled to the brim with his hot sticky silver seed. His scrotum looked filled to the brim with his juices. The little girl could feel Bernard Cornfield's come dribbling from her bruised cunt. He had fucked her when she was dry and the inside of her pussy was going to feel pretty ravaged for a while. Jonah had not been referring to the welts on her rear when he said she was probably too sore to fuck.

    His scrotum was so full of come that Tammy would have thought it had been a month since he last shot his wad – if she didn't know better for a fact.

    His balls were very swollen and they rested heavy at the base of the wrinkled bag. He had kinky little black hairs growing all around the base of his cock, but the rest of his body was hairless, except for his head and his beard. He had no hair at all on his chest or belly, and his legs and balls were devoid of hair. With his body slick from perspiration as if was just then, he looked like a statue made of black marble.

    His cock was going to get in Tammy's way during the initial stages of her oral pleasuring, so she moved it.

    The little girl placed her fingers on the underside of the man's cock shaft and pushed the tip upward.

    Tammy didn't stop pushing until his bulbous glans was pinned against his rock hard belly. His stomach was criss-crossed with muscles.

    She loved the way the craggy underside of his cock felt against the sensitized tips of her digits.

    The little girl then lowered her head low and began to kiss at the insides of his super-thick thighs. She started down by his knees and worked her way slowly upward toward his aroused genitalia.

    The little girl parted her fleshy lips and allowed her pink tongue to flick out of her mouth. She licked at his tight black skin on his thighs.

    The little girl used her smallish teeth to nip with little love bites at spots that looked particularly sensitive. She got very close to his balls. She tilted her hot precious kisser upwards. Her tingling lips were less than an inch from his swollen nuts. He could feel her hot moist breath on his balls. She parted her lips further. She drew back a bit and stuck out her tongue as far as she could possibly get. She concentrated on making her tongue pointy at the tip.

    She began to flick the tip of her tongue back and forth lightly and quickly. The man let out a deep moan of pleasure – an, exclamation of joy that seemed to bubble up all the way from his belly.

    Jonah stood on the earth floor of the shack they shared with his huge feet a little more than shoulder width apart – and that was saying something considering how broad his shoulders were.

    He stood with his strong chin tilted upward proudly. His face showed masculine sternness and affection at the same time. He stood with his shoulders back.

    His chest was puffed out.

    His stomach was sucked in.

    His knees were slightly bent.

    His back was slightly arched.

    She started out licking his balls rather tentatively – but the laving of her pink tongue quickly gained eagerness and enthusiasm. She got a taste for it and she couldn't stop.

    Tammy began to lick her man's swollen testicles with the flat part of her tongue. She lifted and lowered his balls with her tongue gently.

    Tammy was always very gentle when she dealt with her man's nuts. She knew how easily and severely they could be harmed if she treated them too roughly.

    She licked at his scrotal sack until the entire thing was soaking wet from the saliva that dribbled from her tongue. Tammy found that her salivary gland was working overtime as she went down on Jonah.

    Her mouth was watering.

    Tammy found that she had to swallow more frequently than usual to keep from drooling fluid onto her tiny chin. She pulled her tongue away from his scrotum and puckered her lips so she could kiss his left nut noisily.

    She blew cool air onto his hot balls and this made him shiver violently – as if he were trying to shudder himself right out of his ebony skin.

    The man could feel his entire body becoming covered with a thick layer of bumpy gooseflesh. The goose pimples seemed to be clustered most densely beneath his arms.

    "The head of my cock feels ready to explode."

    "You gotta way of making it sound so painful."

    "Baby, you know that feels good."

    "You like the action?"

    "I love the action, Tammy."

    "You want me to suck your balls."

    "Yeah, sounds good," Jonah said.

    The huge black man was having increasing difficulty keeping his lower torso still. He found that his hips were gyrating. He was moving his tight little ass in slow circles.

    Jonah found that his muscles were tensing up on him involuntarily – especially the muscles in his buttocks.

    Tammy knew that she had to make her mouth cottony soft when she sucked her man's nuts. She curled her lips over her teeth so that she would not risk inadvertently hurting him. The last thing the little girl wanted to do was cause her man the slightest bit of discomfort.

    She wrapped her lips around his left testicle and she began to suck. She didn't suck as hard as she could – but, rather, with a controlled vacuum inside, her hot wet oral cavity.

    She hollowed her cheeks only slightly. She sucked with just the right pressure.

    Jonah began to moan and groan loudly. He could feel the temperature of his semen rising within him. His jism felt as if it were rapidly approaching the boiling point.

    She began to flick with her tongue again. She sucked and licked at his nut for a long time before pulling away and repeating the process with the gland's twin.

    She straightened her back. Jonah was now standing with his backbone arched even more than before – so that his loins, and therefore his genitalia, were out in front of the rest of his body.

    She turned her light left palm upward with the fingers slightly curled. She placed her fingertips at the base of his huge scrotal sack.

    Tammy wiggled the tips of her digits. She fondled her man's nuts in this fashion. He was moving the lower half of his fantastic torso with a greater fervor than before.

    Jonah could feel his respiratory system becoming affected by his sexual arousal. His breaths were getting steadily faster and closer together. Each breath seemed to be a little shorter than the one before it. He realized that he was panting like an animal. At that moment the man wanted to be an animal. He knew that his panting was going to get worse before it got better. He could feel his heart pounding. The little girl placed her palm under the man's scrotum and opened her fingers as far apart as she could possibly get them. She tried again and again in vain to clutch his entire scrotal sack at once. Some of the bag fell over the sides of her hand no matter how much she stretched her little palm. She held as much of the sack at once as she could and she began to squeeze at it. She squeezed in sync with her man's heartbeat – and in this manner she simulated the natural throbbing he felt in his nuts at that sexy moment.

    She forgot about the pain in her rear for a moment – and she forgot about the ravaged tissues inside her cunt that were troubling her earlier.

    Tammy had successfully thrust all of her personal discomfort into the back of her head – and she was concentrating her attentions exclusively on the pleasure she was giving handsome Jonah.

    She knew it was time to pleasure his humongous cock with that wet pink tongue of hers. She parted her lips and stuck that taster out. She placed the pointy tip of her tongue at the base of the man's cock, on the underside – right where his dick and his balls came together.

    At that moment Jonah could feel a tickle of sexual anxiety forming right at that spot. He knew that tickle could do nothing but increase in intensity as long as his little girl was going down on his rod.

    He knew that the tickle would grow until it was no longer a tickle at all – but rather a comet-like ball of liquid sexual anxiety.

    He knew that the sensation at the base of his cock would mount until his horniness reached the point of no return. Until his arousal reached the saturation point. Until his orgasm reached the point of inevitability.

    She found herself looking at the underside of his cock shaft, looking past her nose, crossing her dark brown eyes a little bit. Jonah couldn't help but notice that little Tammy's eyes still looked on the red and puffy side from all of the weeping she had been doing. She looked at the craggy veins on his cock's stem. She was still pinning the tip of his prick to a spot well above his concave bellybutton with the fingertips on her right hand. She thought those veins on the underside of his dick looked like lines on a map, like rivers. She had only seen a map once but she remembered it. The driver had showed it to her while she was being delivered to the Cornfield Estate. She decided to allow the longest thickest vein, the vein that coursed almost the entire length of his cock – determine her tongue's route. She began to flick back and forth lightly and quickly with the pointy tip of her pink wet tongue. She moved a fraction of an inch at a time toward the head of his dick. She paused at a spot just below the head where Tammy knew from experience her man was particularly hypersensitive. She allowed her flicking tongue tip to linger at that spot and his moans and groans of pleasure immediately got a great deal louder and a little higher in pitch. More of his muscles were stiffening. His back teeth were clenched together so tightly that the muscles at the sides of his face were beginning to protrude. His jaw ached a bit – but he didn't let that bother him. The slight discomfort in his lower face was next to nothing compared to the pleasure he was feeling down below. He had his eyes closed tightly. His thick lips were stretching back over her pearly white and perfectly straight teeth – so much so that his facial expression looked like a contorted cross between a smile and a grimace. He was bucking with his hips, as if he were pretending his cock were already in the little girl's mouth.

    She ran her tongue up the split on the underside of the man's glans. This split, Tammy thought, made her man's dick head look like a ripe plum!

    She licked all the way to the tip of his cock. She loosened the pressure on the underside of his dick with her fingertips. She allowed his cock head to come away from his belly about an inch, far enough for her to get at the entire crown with her eager tongue. She flicked the tip of her taster back and forth across his opening and closing piss hole and then rolled the sides of her tongue all around the glans, not stopping until the head of his ebony pole was covered with a layer of her saliva. She still thought that skin was marvelously smooth as she caressed it with her erect and sexually aroused taste buds.

    She licked up and down the shaft of his cock with the flat part of her tongue – lapping as a mare might lap at a stall-side cake of salt.

    She then removed her fingers from the underside of his dick's stalk while squeezing his nuts a little harder than before.

    She squeezed his balls firmly but still nowhere near hard enough to risk hurting her handsome lover.

    She tried to make a fist all the way around the shaft of his prick, but her fingertips ended up a good half inch away from the heel of her palm. She squeezed his dick shaft.

    She lowered the man's cock head to her mouth and stared at the wet tip. She could see something oozing from his urethra. Jonah was priming the pump.

    She concentrated on relaxing the muscles at the sides of her face. She concentrated on breathing exclusively through her nostrils.

    This would soon be a necessity.

    Soon her mouth would be full.

    Tammy made little snorting noise as she sucked air deep into her sinuses and then into her lungs. She could smell the scent of his manhood wafting toward her flaring nostrils from his cock and balls.

    She dropped her jaw.

    Tammy opened her mouth as far as she could so that her jaw threatened to lock in that position.

    The skin at the corners of her mouth was stretched taut. She pushed forward with her head and shoulders. She took his cock head in her mouth. Once again she had her lips curled over her white teeth so that she would not risk biting him by accident. She locked her lips around the lower rim of Jonah's bulbous glans.

    She began to pump her fist up and down his shaft – and the muscular black man could feel his horniness mounting in leaps and bounds.

    There was nothing subtle about the way Tammy sucked her man's cock. She sucked as hard as she possibly could.

    She created an intense vacuum inside her oral cavity. She hollowed her smooth cheeks deeply as she sucked.

    The man could feel all of his muscles tensing. He tossed his head back so that his face was turned toward the ceiling of the shack they shared. In the distance Tammy could hear the buzzing of a single fly – but she could hear nothing else. Jonah stopped moaning because he stopped breathing. He filled his chest with fresh air and held it in. He knew that he was not going to be able to breathe during his come anyway. He shivered and the little girl could feel a little extra blood pumping into the head of his cock – forcing her jaw to open even further than before.

    She knew the end was near.

    Jonah howled like a beast. She could feel the head of his cock spasming against her gaping lips, her tongue and the insides of her hollowed cheeks.

    Tammy could feel the shaft of Jonah's cock convulsing against her palm and the insides of her curled fingers.

    Then his piss hole opened. His come spewed out. There was a huge squirt of sticky come into the little girl's mouth at that point and she knew that she was going to have trouble keeping it all inside her mouth.

    She puffed out her cheeks.

    She began to swallow as hard as she possibly could right away – but her efforts were futile. There was too much come and her mouth was too little.

    She couldn't hold it all inside.

    Tammy could feel the semen oozing from the stretched-back corners of her mouth. The jism rolled slowly down onto her chin where it cooled and coagulated.

    Some of his come even plopped onto the inside of Tammy's black left wrist. She was still clutching his balls. She managed to get most of his come down her throat.

    The come was hot and she had to wait for it to cool for a second or two before she could taste it properly.

    But the wait was worth it.

    She was not disappointed.

    She loved the flavor of the man's come better than any other flavor she had ever experienced on her tongue.

    She knew that the come was good for her to drink – because she could feel herself getting healthier as she swallowed it.

    Tammy loved the texture of the man's come just as much as the flavor. It was like raw egg whites.

    She liked the way Jonah's jism felt as it slithered the entire length of her gullet down to her belly.

    Tammy could feel a warm spot of contentment form at the pit of her tummy where the come clustered.

    His come reminded her of the salted fish she was forced to eat. Only it wasn't as salty and the taste was much milder.

    She was determined to keep sucking her man until his obviously intense orgasm was complete.

    Jonah began to scream.

    "Tammy! Tammy! Tammy! You are making me come! Baby! Honey! Youare making me come so hard! You are making me come so fucking hard! You are sucking ale the come out of me!My bales are drying up! Oh it hurts so good the way you dry up my nuts with that sucking mouth of yours! Give it to me! do me! Suck it up! Swallow it down! More! Take it all! Argh! I cant stop coming! Ican't stop coming! Tammy! You are sucking the soul right out of me!"

    She succeeded in sucking him until his come was over. She had no trouble determining when his orgasm was finished. Not only did the jism stop spewing, the cock softened.


    There was a huge party going on at the Cornfield Estate. Men and women in expensive clothes stood inside the house and out, all with mint juleps in their hands.

    Inside the house Bernard Cornfield was talking with three of his very best friends, all of whom were also plantation owners in the area.

    The three men were named Marvin Madison, Garth Hudson and Peter Thompson. Naturally, the subject being discussed between the four men was pussy.

    "I got me a new little nigger girl named Tammy that is going to grow up and be quite a woman," Bernard said, doing nothing to hide the bragging tone in his voice.

    "You tested out her poontang yet, Bernard?" Marvin Madison asked, pausing to take a sip of his cool drink. The four men all had evil smiles on their faces.

    "Sure have," Bernard said with a chuckle. "She sure is tight. And she takes well to the whip too. Bawls her eyes out when I thrash her."

    "Which one is she, Bernard?" Garth Hudson asked. He looked around at the nigger girls who were serving the party's food and drink.

    "That's her over there in the corner. The one that's looking all shy and cute," Bernard said. He gestured toward Tammy with his right forefinger.

    "You're right when you say she is hot looking," Peter Thompson concurred. "How did such a little girl like that grow such big tits?"

    "You know how those nigger girls get. They grow them big jugs when they are little, and then they are fat and useless by the time they are thirty," Bernard said.

    The other three men all nodded and drank and agreed that this was true. In the corner Tammy was aware of the fact that the conversation was about her.

    "That's why you got to get to that dark meat when it is still young and sweet. After a while they go bad and start smelling like they should bathe – even if they have just taken a bath," Marvin Madison said.

    "So, Bernard, tell me," Garth Hudson said, feeling a tingling in his balls. "Is there any chance you might lend that nigger girl out for a little while?"

    "Yeah, Bernard," Garth Hudson added. "I could use a piece of dark tail right now. It would make the rest of the party go easier."

    "I agree, Bernard," said Peter Thompson. "Ever since you started talking about her I've been so horny the crack of dawn better look out for me."

    "You can have her anytime you want – and you can do anything you please with her. I would appreciate it if you didn't do any damage that won't heal. I mean, don't cut off anything that won't grow back," Bernard said. The three men shared a hearty laugh.

    "Maybe all three of us could take her at the same time," Peter Thompson said. "Just like back in the old days. You remember that, boys?"

    The three men laughed. They all remembered their days as youngsters when they all used to gang up on one nigger girl. Three cocks and three holes. Things worked out perfectly.

    "Just go over to her and tell her you want her to take you downstairs. She will understand what you mean. There are whips and stuff down there too in case you would like to give her a little taste of the whip," Bernard said. "And, another thing. Don't let my wife catch you going down there. She doesn't know about the 'office' I have set up down there."

    "Sure thing Bernard. You play host and we'll be back in a little while – right after that nigger cunt cleans out our tubes," Garth said.

    The three men walked over to Tammy with big ear-to-ear shit-eating grins on their faces, and Tammy knew immediately what was going to happen to her.

    She thought of Jonah, and she thought of the God she worshipped – the same God who was supposed to be good and merciful, but who always found new ways to degrade and hurt this pretty little black girl.

    "Oooooooweeeeeee!" Marvin Madison said. "Get a whiff of her. This little cunt is oozing sex. Come on, baby. Bernard says you are going to show us where the downstairs facilities are."

    "Yes, sir," Tammy said subserviently. She tried not to look the men in the face. She lowered her eyes and led the three of them out of the room where many of the guests had gathered.

    "I'm getting hotter by the second," Garth Hudson said, rubbing the palms of his smooth hands together. The three men all had soft hands.

    Between the three of them they had not put in a single honest day's work in their entire life. They had had slaves to do all of the chores for them ever since they were born. They had all entered the world with a silver spoon protruding from their slaving mouths.

    The three men decided, as they went down those rickety wooden stairs toward Bernard's torture chamber, that they really weren't in the mood to whip the little girl.

    Bernard was into that shit. He whipped the girls just for the hell of it. These three men believed that a master should only punish the slaves when they have actually done something wrong. To punish a slave, this trio believed, without cause, just for kicks, was asking for trouble.

    Besides, they were all too horny to put the matter at hand off. They were all anxious to get their cocks inside her so she could pleasure them with her holes.

    "Shit, now we gotta decide who is gonna get to fuck her where," Peter Thompson said. "We always used to fight about that when we were fifteen."

    "Yeah, sometimes I don't feel like I have changed a hell of a lot since I was fifteen," Garth Hudson said. "And sometimes I feel like I am a completely different person."

    "Well, I think we should flip a coin to figure out who gets to fuck her where. If we don't we are all still gonna want her ass and then somebody will get mad."

    "Sounds good to me," Marvin said and this was done. It was decided – rather quickly, in fact – that Marvin Madison would get to fuck the little girl in the pussy. It was decided that Garth Hudson would get to fuck her in the ass, and Peter Thompson would get sucked off by Tammy Taylor's hot little mouth.

    It had been years since the three men had all gotten inside a slave at the same time. They felt a little nostalgic. They felt like boys once again.

    It was like riding a bicycle. Once one learned how to do it, they never forgot. They had the logistics of the triple-fuck memorized, for sure.

    The only flat surface down in the torture chamber was the wooden slab table. Marvin found a pillow and placed it at the head of that table.

    Marvin then climbed up on top of the table and stretched his long legs out in front of him, his feet and his knees close together. He had a full-fledged boner inside his trousers.

    They ordered Tammy to get out of her clothes, which didn't take the girl very long. She kicked off her worn shoes and removed her dress.

    As usual, the little slave was wearing nothing beneath her dress. She stood there innocently naked as the men eyed her tits and her practically hairless pussy. They looked at her ass and commented on how round it was.

    They could see the lash marks on her rear end and this bothered them a little bit. It bothered Peter in particular, who had never cared for the whip and never used it. Peter always had one of the slaves do his whipping for him when it came time to punish someone – because he had never been able to bring himself to use it himself.

    Marvin Madison unbuckled his black leather belt and unbuttoned the top of his trousers. He lifted his ass from the wooden table and hooked his thumbs under the top of his pants.

    Marvin pulled down his pants all the way to his ankles and then stretched back out again. His cock flopped onto his hairy belly and began to bounce up and down.

    Tammy took one look at the white man's cock flopping up and down like that and she couldn't help but think it looked as if it were doing some sort of jungle dance – just as her ancestors had done back in the homeland.

    "Get up on the table, cunt and straddle my hips so I can get my cock up inside you," Marvin Madison said. He had the same command tone in his voice that all white men easily assumed when talking to a slave.

    Tammy got up on the table – praying the whole time that she could get horny. She prayed that her pussy would lubricate itself. Nature betrayed her, however.

    Her cunt stayed as dry as a bone. Tammy only had to kiss Jonah on the mouth once and the glands inside her body would start cranking out her natural lubrication. Her pussy was always soaking wet to the point of overflowing when her man threw her an ecstatic fuck.

    But here she was with three white men, all of whom were going to fuck her at the same time, and she could not get the glands inside her pussy to secrete a single drop of fluid. She knew that it was going to hurt like hell when Marvin tried to get his cock all the way up her cunt.

    "Now remember boys, don't start fucking until all three of us got our cocks inside her. Yeah, you too, Marvin," Garth said. "It's going to be fucking hard enough to get my prick up the nigger girl's ass without having to aim at a moving target."

    Tammy got up on the table. The wood was hard on her smooth knees. She knelt up straight with one knee on either side of Marvin's slim hips.

    Tammy pushed her knees apart as far as she could get them. She wanted her protruding and slightly curled back inner cunt lips to part naturally as much as possible before the man tried to push his prick up her poontang.

    Tammy knelt with her back straight, and then with her back arched a little bit. Her belly became slightly concave, and her rib-cage protruded.

    As Tammy arched her back her huge breasts rose on her chest – so that they were resting even higher than they did normally. Her cocoa colored nipples were stiff and pointing slightly upward. Marvin was panting.

    Tammy was ordered to put the man's cock inside her cunt herself. She lightly ran her fingers up and down the shaft of his dick prick – which was flopping up and down on his belly with a greater fervor than before.

    Tammy then worked her tiny black fingers in between the man's belly and his cock shaft. As she did this she had her faded palm turned upward toward the ceiling of the torture chamber.

    She curled her fingers at the knuckle a little bit and formed a cradle underneath Marvin's cock, just below his purple head. She lifted the tip of his cock away from his belly. She leaned forward a little bit, jack-knifing at the waist. As she leaned forward all three of the men noticed that her tits became even larger than usual when the force of gravity was in their favor.

    Tammy raised the tip of the man's urgently erect tool of masculinity to her little pussy. She rubbed her clit with her piss hole for a while in another vain attempt to get her juices flowing.

    Tammy decided that she had better do something, then she had an idea. She spit a small pool of saliva into her free palm and smeared it all over the man's cock. She put extra spittle on the head of his cock.

    Tammy noticed that Marvin moaned when she did this. He began to shift the weight of his lower body from one ass cheek to the other and then back again. He was breathing very hard.

    Tammy moved the head of Marvin's cock to the mouth of her fuck hole. She wiggled her ass and her loins from side to side a little bit.

    Tammy worked the tip of the man's purple spear in between her curled back inner cunt lips. She could feel his cock throbbing against her most sensitive area – and still she did not feel a twinge of desire.

    She wished that her mind would stop having such a strong effect on her body. She realized that she could keep her, inevitable pain to a minimum if she could only get herself aroused. But she was too filled with hate and awe to feel desire. She was going to have to take his cock inside her cunt with her own spittle as the only lubrication.

    Tammy adjusted her hips so that his cock and her internal passage way were at the appropriate angles for deep-vaginal violation. She began to push down on the tip of his prick with the mouth of her dark meat fuck hole.

    She could feel her inner cunt lips begrudgingly opening. She could feel the head of his cock pushing inside her. She looked down and watched his foreskin peeling back.

    Jonah's cock was so much larger that this man's – yet Jonah's cock always entered with much greater ease. Her pussy would stretch for Jonah in amazing ways. Her cunt would bulge in and out when Jonah fucked her, and she never felt the slightest twinge of discomfort. But Marvin was hurting her and she clenched her back teeth together as she felt the tip of his prick first on her dimpled cervix, the mouth of her womb, and then snug against the back wall of her cunt.

    Tammy did not stop pressing down with her nigger cunt until the entire length of that purple pole was up inside her. Her inner cunt lips were gripping his cock at the very hilt. She could feel his scrotal sack throbbing against her asshole.

    The second that first cock was all the way inside her they ordered her to kick her legs out behind her so that her knees were straight.

    She did as she was told, of course, without a peep of protest. She kept her thighs parted, and she kept Marvin's cock all the way inside her.

    Garth Hudson immediately moved to the side of the torture table. Garth already had his pants down to his knees and his cock was standing at attention before him.

    Garth ran his fingertips up and down the backs of the little girl's smooth thighs. He tickled her behind her knees. He touched the lash marks on the cheeks of her black ass delicately.

    He placed one palm on either cheek of her ass. He touched her gently at first but he quickly firmed up his caress. He began to knead her ass flesh.

    He kneaded her buttocks just as if he were preparing unrisen dough for a stint in the baker's oven. He then turned the tips of his fingers inward toward the crack of her ass.

    Garth turned his elbows outward so that they were pointing in opposite directions. He dug his fingertips into the cleavage between her ebony buns.

    Garth didn't stop pushing his fingers deeper and deeper still into the crack of her ass until the tips of his middle fingers were only a fraction of an inch away from the frightened mouth of her rectum on either side.

    Garth pressed with the tips of his strong digits. He pressed hard enough to make Tammy's ass flesh pucker a bit beneath the tension he was exerting.

    Garth began to tug her ass cheeks apart. He did this slowly and ceremoniously – as if he were parting two halves of a ripe and sacred fruit.

    Garth did not stop tugging her buttocks apart until they were separated as far as they could possibly go. She could feel the skin in the crack of her ass pulling taut.

    He tugged her ass cheeks so far apart that even some of the puckers in her nether eye were smoothed. He then held her ass cheeks all the way open with his left hand exclusively.

    He spit onto his right palm and slapped that saliva onto her hot, hot asshole. He massaged the spittle all around her rectum with a slow, circular motion.

    Garth decided to push some of the slippery saliva up inside her ass – and, naturally enough, he decided to use his right middle finger to do that. After all, that was his longest digit.

    Garth placed the tip of his middle finger right at the center of the brown asterisk that formed her anus. He snapped his wrist and drove the wet finger inside.

    Tammy let out a grunt as if all of the wind had been knocked from her lungs. She could feel the man's finger pushing past her sphincter muscle.

    The finger pushed past the tight tubular muscle – right into her colon, which was softer and more elastic. He pushed his finger up her ass as far as it could go.

    Garth didn't stop pushing until Tammy's asshole was gripping him at the third knuckle. He wiggled his finger around inside her playfully.

    He worked his finger in and out of her for a moment or two and then pulled his finger all the way out. He sniffed his finger and raised an eyebrow at the aroma.

    Then the man lubed up his own dick with spittle arid climbed on top of the table. He sprawled himself across the little girl's backside. There was a lot of weight on Marvin's chest at that point – but if he minded he did not let on.

    Tammy's delicious black breasts were pressed flat against Marvin's shirt. She could feel Garth panting on the back of her neck. Tammy knew that there was only a thin wall of flesh between her colon and her inner cunt.

    The diminutive slave girl knew that this wall of flesh would be stretched very very thin once both cocks were inside her at the same time.

    Tammy knew that Garth and Marvin would be able to feel each other's cocks through that wall when they fucked her down there simultaneously.

    She could feel him guiding the head of his cock between her ripe cheeks. He had his dick in his right hand. Garth gave his cock three experimental squeezes.

    The southern plantation owner wanted to make sure that his cock was as hard and thick as possible. He had nothing to worry about along those lines.

    He had a full-fledged boner – there could be no doubt about that. He ran the tip up and down the crack of her ass. Marvin and Garth could feel their scrotal sacks touching one another.

    Then he stopped the head of his dick when it was pressed directly against her nether eye. He adjusted his hips so that his cock would be at the right angle.

    Garth tensed the muscles in his ass cheeks. He pressed his manly buttocks together as tightly as he could get them – and he began to push.

    Tammy cried out in pain and felt tears welling in her dark brown eyes as her asshole was forced open to take his purple glans. She could feel all of the puckers in her asshole being smoothed.

    Her ass felt like it was going to tear wide open by the time the man got the head of his dick in her. But he did not stop pushing there. No way. The man had every intention of getting his whole prick in her ass – and he didn't give a shit one way or the other how much he hurt her in the process. He pushed his pole past her sphincter and into her colon. He pushed until the tip of his cock was throbbing against the pit of her bowels – the smelliest core of Tammy's womanhood.

    She was a sandwich.

    A Tammy sandwich on stud.

    She had two cocks in her and she felt like she was ready to burst – and there was still one cock left to go. She looked forward through tear-filled eyes and she say Peter Thompson with his pants all the way down around his ankles, struggling to get up onto the table.

    Peter finally moved to a kneeling position in front of Tammy's head. The little girl straightened her neck and opened her mouth wide for him like a good little slave.

    Peter didn't like the whip – but that didn't mean he didn't get in a mean mood every now and again. This happened to be one of those times. He began to slap the little girl across the face with his stiff meat.

    He just wanted to degrade her and humiliate her more than she was already. Peter then placed his hands on top of her head. He ran his fingers across her scalp to the back of her neck.

    He pressed his digits into the muscles at the nape of her neck hard enough to make the flesh pucker there. He hurt her in this fashion. She was making snorting noises through her flaring nostrils. She was sweating profusely.

    Peter turned his wrists and moved his hands so that his palms were over the little girl's shell-like ears. He pinned her ears to the sides of her pretty head.

    He made it very difficult for Tammy to hear anything at all. The things Tammy could hear sounded as if they were coming from far, far away.

    He held her head so tightly that Tammy could no longer pull away from his with her head and shoulders – not even a fraction of an inch.

    Peter clasped her head so tightly that the diminutive slave girl could no longer turn her face from side to side. The only direction she could move her face was forward – and that, of course, was the only direction that Peter Thompson was concerned with.

    Her held her head stringently – as if he wanted to crush it like a grape. He pushed the head of his dick into her gaping mouth and she began to suck on it.

    Tammy thought the man would be satisfied with having just the head of his cock sucked – like the way she pleasured Jonah with her hot mouth.

    But this was not what Peter had in mind at all. Marvin and Garth were going to get to fuck their holes – and he wanted to get to fuck her mouth as well. He wanted to fuck her face with the entire length of his cock.

    He told her this and she panicked for a moment. She knew there was no way he could ram his dick all the way down her gullet without hurting her badly.

    She knew she was going to gag horribly. She felt his cock pushing into the back of her mouth and then down her throat. She gagged immediately and the tears that had already welled in her dark brown eyes began to stream down the sides of her face, over her cheekbones and her smooth cheeks. Tammy's face was stained by her tears – and she correctly assumed that that was going to happen each and every time a white man took her into the torture room.

    She had to struggle to keep her teeth off of Peter's cock. She was scared of what might happen if she accidentally bit the man's pole.

    He pushed and pushed. She realized that he was being pleasured by her pain in a couple of ways. He enjoyed the fact that he was hurting her, plus the spasms in her throat were squeezing at his rock-hard dick meat. Each time the little girl gagged the man's cock was given a sharp caress, sending magic fingers of masculine pleasure rolling up and down the entire length of his spine, all the way from his tailbone to the nape of his neck and then back down again.

    Tammy could see through her tears that her nose was getting closer and closer to the thick patch of pubic hair growing above the base of Peter's cock.

    She knew that once the man's pubic bush covered her nose she would be unable to breathe at all. She feared that he would suffocate her with his meat.

    Indeed, he pushed until her lips gripped his cock at the hilt – Tammy could feel Peter Thompson's balls resting on her little black chin.

    Three cocks at once. Her throat was on fire.

    Then, Peter gave the cue that he was all the way in and the men began to fuck all at once. They all laughed because they remembered a time when this was a common practice, a time when they were all filled with the plethora of jism that comes with youth.

    They pulled out together.

    They stabbed into her together.

    Their hip movements were in sync with one another.

    They managed to keep their natural in and out fucking motion in sync with one another even as all three of them steadily increased the tempo of the triple fuck. They started out slowly but steadily increased the pace. She could feel her gullet being ravaged. She could feel her asshole being tugged out away from the rest of the cleavage between her buttocks so hard that it shocked her.


    Annabelle Cornfield always took a long time with her toilet each morning. She had to inspect herself and wash herself thoroughly before she could dress and make herself seen by the outside world.

    No nook nor cranny went unexamined. No toenail unchecked. It was not uncommon for the woman to spend two hours in the john before she appeared downstairs demanding her breakfast from the slaves.

    She had her own private bathroom – so no one cared how long she stayed in there. She had her own private bedroom, for that matter. It had been a very long time since she and Bernard had slept in the same room for a whole night.

    After Annabelle asked her husband for her own room, he occasionally visited her there at night for a fuck – maybe twice a week or something like that.

    But Annabelle, whose pussy was very precious, or so she thought, didn't care for the process of relieving his manly urges. She began to reject him – even though he only came into her room every once in a while.

    She thought he was a sex maniac. It never occurred to her that it was HER libido that was out of sync with the rest of the world. She put out for Bernard about once a month as of late, and she thought that that should be enough to keep any man happy.

    No, it never occurred to Annabelle that there was anything wrong with her. According to Annabelle she had never been wrong in her entire life.

    According to Annabelle she was perfect in every way. Her Daddycakes had told her that when she was just a little girl – and she believed it to this very day.

    Now Annabelle had sexual urges, for sure, but she did not relate them to her husband, his cock and balls, or his needs. Her urges were her own – and she had discovered that her horniness was best appeased by her own hand.

    Annabelle washed her hands three times after jerking herself off when she masturbated. She could not stand the thought of having that dreadful cunty smell on her fingers.

    Annabelle was a cleanliness freak – what Sigmund Freud would have called an anal compulsive. She became nervous if she saw a cigar ash in an ashtray – and would immediately order one of the slaves to empty and wash out the tray so she would not have to look at the filth.

    Annabelle douched herself three times a day – as many times as she brushed her teeth. She wouldn't admit, not even to herself, that she douched frequently because she thought it felt good.

    Annabelle told herself that her obsession with personal hygiene was just a little bit of precious womanly vanity. What man would not want to have a wife who smelled sweet and fresh all the time.

    It never occurred to Annabelle that there was no point in keeping her cunt clean if she didn't allow her man to fuck her very frequently – and she never let him put his head down there between her legs.

    The thought of her husband's tongue on that dirty spot between her legs made her shudder. She couldn't understand why the man would want to do something like that.

    Annabelle was convinced that her husband – along with all of the other members of his gender she had met in her life – were crude, uncivilized and disgusting.

    They were animals rather than people with only one thing on their minds. It never occurred to Annabelle when she was diddling herself that she was being slightly hypocritical when it came to her opinions of men.

    On this particular morning Annabelle took a long shower and spent much time soaping herself up between her legs. She could feel the tingling down there and she knew that she was going to have to touch herself until she had an orgasm.

    Masturbation was like taking a healthy shit as far as Annabelle was concerned. She had something poisonous lodged inside her system – and it had to be set free!

    She cursed her own horniness and sometimes denied her own pleasure to herself. Seconds after an orgasm was through she could tell herself that it hadn't really felt very good at all.

    The only reason she did it was to get rid of the sinful pressure in her loins, much as she might have taken a tonic for one of her many migraine headaches.

    Still, no one wondered why Bernard Cornfield had married Annabelle in the first place. The truth of the matter was that she was one of the most beautiful women in the entire Georgia county.

    She was a tall, statuesque woman, standing five feet seven inches tall. She was very light in her coloring, and had a perfect hourglass figure.

    Annabelle's hair was very long and light blonde in hue. She had the sort of hair that would bleach to a near-white color after not much time in the golden sunshine at all.

    But this never happened. Annabelle would not have been caught dead in the sun with a parasol or a broad-brimmed lid. Her skin was very fair and she was convinced that too much sunshine would ruin her milky complexion forever.

    The women of the nineteenth century American South were not interested in tanning themselves. Who wanted dark skin? Why, that would make one more like a nigger, wouldn't it?

    Annabelle's spun-gold hair fell in thick waves over her shoulders, spilling gracefully low down her back. Her hair came down almost all the way to the top of the crack of her ass.

    Her golden tresses were parted in the middle – revealing a straight line of pink scalp down the center of her head's crown. Her hair fell onto her forehead in the front on downy bangs that came almost all the way down to her neatly plucked eyebrows.

    Annabelle's eyelashes and eyebrows were just as light as the hair on her head – as was the short and curly hair that grew above and to the sides of her precious pussy.

    It was not a surprise to anyone that Bernard and Annabelle had no children. Everyone who knew Annabelle could tell she was a cold fish, and none of Bernard's friends – at least not his male friends – ever thought twice about his decision to get a little something on the side from his nigger girls now and again.

    Annabelle's women friends sometimes tried to talk to Annabelle about her icy ways. They warned her that she would lose her husband if she didn't give him what he wants.

    Lie back and enjoy it, they told her. It's not that bad. Sometimes it can be a lot of fun, they added. But Annabelle would hear none of it.

    She told her friends that they had all been brainwashed into enjoying sex by their animalistic hubbies. Eventually the woman gave up on Annabelle. She was a lost cause. Her knees had been glued together when she just a little girl – and it would take more than a friendly word of advice to pry those shapely gams open.

    Annabelle's eyes were almond-shaped and hauntingly beautiful. Her eyes were the color of a summer sky – a sky totally devoid of cotton clouds.

    As Annabelle stepped out of the shower that morning she was unaware of the fact that Bernard was down in the torture chamber with Tammy Taylor.

    It never occurred to her that her husband fooled with the dark meat poontang on the plantation. She thought white men were as disgusted by the black animals that worked for them as she was.

    Then again, Annabelle had heard that there were men who got so horny that they fucked the farm animals, but she didn't think Bernard was that sort. He wouldn't fuck a cow or a mare or a sheep or a goat or anything like that.

    Those people, the people that did that disgusting act with animals, should be put in the nut house with the nymphomaniac prostitutes from Atlanta.

    Annabelle had a tiny nose. It was a mere button, and it turned up a little at its tip. Her mouth was not large, but her lips were full and sensuous.

    Looks can be deceiving. A stranger would have thought – upon seeing Annabelle Cornfield for the first time – that she was oozing lust and hot to trot.

    Her lips were puffy and pouting, the upper lip forced to protrude in a very cute way by her slight overbite. Her cheeks were rosy at the cheekbones.

    She kept her lips slightly puckered and parted at all times. She licked them frequently to keep them moist. She wore a cherry-red lipstick on her lips. She thought her lips were shaped like a heart when she had them puckered – though no one else had ever seemed to notice this.

    Yes, Annabelle Cornfield was walking through life looking as if she needed to be kissed very badly. Nothing could have been further from the truth.

    Her teeth were very white. Her breasts were large and finely shaped. She had a slim waist and round hips. Her legs were very long and she looked great in the flowing dresses she wore when the Cornfield's threw one of their wild parties. Ever since the white woman had been a little girl she had taken to womanly vanities like a fish takes to water. She loved putting on her make-up – mostly because it gave her an opportunity to spend a long time examining her own face in the looking glass.

    Ever since she was little she had been obsessed with her manicure and pedicure. She always kept her fingernails very long – and filed carefully so that each nail was precisely the same length.

    Annabelle filed her nails so that they had a common curve to their tips. She always kept her nails painted a deep red color – the color of blood as it oozes from a recently opened wound.

    She correctly assumed that this crimson hue went very well with her perfect peaches and cream complexion.

    Naturally enough, she always painted her toenails so that they matched. Her nipples were very pink and they were erect as she stepped out of her bath.

    She toweled herself off slowly. She could feel the hot blood of her, feminine sexual arousal pumping downward in her body. Washing and rinsing her private parts had gotten her libido worked up. She cursed herself for being human with human urges – and she cursed herself for feeling what every other woman on earth feels. She decided to jerk herself off quickly so she wouldn't have to spend much time thinking about how sinfully wicked she was being in the privacy of her bath.

    Annabelle sat on her toilet with her knees apart. She could tell that her inner and outer cunt lips were both swelling rapidly with the blood of her womanly horniness. She could tell that it wouldn't be very long at all before all of the mucous membranes between her parted thighs were thoroughly engorged with that hot blood.

    She could feel the little glands deep inside her cunt starting to secrete her natural lubrication. She could tell her cunt was getting moist.

    She knew that it wouldn't be moist for long. Soon, she knew, she would be soaking wet down there between her milky white thighs. She could feel her clitoris growing.

    The center of her warped womanly desire was filling with blood and approaching engorgement along with the rest of her pussy's tissues.

    She could feel her nipples getting harder and larger. She could hear her breaths getting shorter and closer together. She could feel the pace of her heartbeat quicken.

    She arched her fingers so that her long red fingernails would not get in the way and began to stroke her nipples with the fleshy parts of her fingertips.

    She shivered and moaned a little. There were two sets of walls between her private bath and the rest of the house – so she did not have to worry about anyone hearing her moans and groans of physical pleasure. She tried to get outside of herself – so that she would not have to feel guilt and disgust over her own enjoyment.

    Annabelle would have denied that she even had a pussy if she had been asked the question point blank. She rubbed her nipples as lightly as she could at first but her stroke became firmer as she proceeded.

    Annabelle got each of her nipples in between her thumbs and forefingers and pinched them lightly. She could feel little liquid fingers of feminine enjoyment rolling gracefully up and down the entire length of her backbone.

    Annabelle could feel the little golden hairs at the nape of her white neck standing on end. She lightly tugged her nipples. She could feel them getting larger and harder against her sensitized fingertips. Annabelle pulled her nipples until the skin all around those pink feminine erections was stretched taut – and both of her breasts looked a good deal pointier than usual.

    Annabelle could feel her pink clitoris pushing out from under the fleshy sheath that usually all but covered it. She could feel her clit becoming as erect as her nipples.

    Her love button was pushing her clitoral foreskin up and out of the way. She knew that it would not be long before her clit felt as if it were going to come popping right out of her pussy. She could feel her natural lubrication starting to pool thickly and hotly at the base of her pink poontang slash, in between her curled back inner cunt lips, right at the mouth of her seldom-used fuck hole. She could feel the pressure growing in her femininely sloped loins. She could feel a heat on the insides of her thighs – and she could tell the skin their was flushing a bright red with her horniness. She tried to make her mind go blank. Each rational – rational for her, that is, thought stifled her pleasure rather than enhanced it.

    She was a woman without dreams.

    She had no fantasy.

    She could tell that it would not be long before her natural lubrication began to spill out of her pussy down into the crack of her ass, just like sweet nectar dripping from a split in the fuzzy skin of a ripe peach.

    She could feel the pink tissues between her parted thighs starting to crawl around as if they had all developed minds of their own.

    She released her pinching and pulling grip on her nipples and opened her hands so that she could squeeze her own tits. She placed her hands over her breasts so that the nipples were throbbing precisely against the centers of her stretched and slightly cupped palms. She pressed the fleshy part of her fingertips into her tits hard enough to make that tit flesh pucker a bit.

    She threw back her head.

    Her eyes closed.

    Her mouth fell open.

    Her tongue flicked outward.

    Annabelle began to move her tits in slow sensuous circles. Her head pushed back further and further toward the wall. It so happened that right behind the beautiful but icy cold woman's head was a ventilation pipe that ran up and down the entire height of the house – all the way from the top floor to the basement.

    Annabelle thought she could hear something – voices of something – coming from that ventilation pipe – but she couldn't be sure. She was not curious enough to stop and press her ear against the pipe. Her mind was on other things.

    Annabelle pushed her tits upward and then downward. She pulled her tits apart and then pressed them together snugly. She pressed her tits together so snugly – as a matter of fact – that they were flattened on their insides and the cleavage between them became extraordinarily long and deep. This self-caress to her tits was only making the ache between her legs that much worse. She released her grip on her tits and ran the tips of her fingers down the flat plain of her belly. She traced the tip of her right forefinger nail all around her dimpled and concave bellybutton. She then – feeling experimentative – dipped that fingernail right into her bellybutton, and she discovered that this felt a hell of a lot better than she thought it was going to.

    She stroked her lower belly – and then her abdomen. She tugged lightly at her blonde pubies with her fingers. Her pubic hair grew neatly on her mound.

    Annabelle's hair grew in a perfect inverted triangle – a triangle that looked like an arrow indicating the location of her clitoral foreskin.

    Anyone who looked at that trim blonde hair would have thought that she surely cropped it to keep it that way, or that she shaves her inner thighs or something. The beautiful blonde person was the only one in the world who knew that that was the way her golden pubic hair grew naturally.

    She had an urge to start touching her pussy right then and there – but she stifled this urge. Instead she began to stroke the insides of her thighs – which were parted by this time to a perfect ninety-degree angle.

    She placed the tips of her long red fingernails on the insides of her thighs close to her bent knees. She drew her nails – both hands at the same time – toward her crotch.

    She scratched herself lightly.

    She didn't stop until the tips of her nails were less than an inch away from the sides of her vulva. She then repeated the caress. She lifted her feet from the floor and placed her toes on the front of the toilet. She leaned back, her head now closer to that ventilation pipe. Again she thought she heard something coming from that pipe, a scream or something, but she paid no attention. Either it was her imagination or maybe a little steam or something. Who would be screaming in her house?

    She stroked her inner thighs until she could feel her cunt juices dripping over the inch-long patch of mucous membrane in between her pink asterisk of an asshole and the base of her thoroughly engorged cunt.

    She couldn't take it anymore. She had teased herself long enough. She opened her legs even further. She scratched the cheeks of her ass. She opened her ass cheeks with her left hand and ran the tip of her right forefinger up and down the crack of her ass. She found that her asshole was very hypersensitive and erogenous, but even in her aroused state of mind she could not bring herself to touch that dirty spot for very long.

    She could tell that the crack of her ass was all wet and slippery with the juices that had dribbled from her quim. She ran the tip of her finger up and down the outermost parts of her vulva. She caressed her fat, swollen outer cunt lips all the way from the base to the top of her pussy. She came very close to her clit without making direct contact with it.

    She touched at the sides of her clit and just above the love button, at the clitoral foreskin, but she did not touch the little man in the boat itself.

    She wanted to save the focal point of her womanly desire for last. She was going to explore each nook and crannie of her cunt before touching the magic and fiery bulb at the very top of her oozing cooze.

    She worked her finger in between her inner and outer cunt lips. She then rubbed ever-so-gingerly at the curled back outer edges of her inner labia.

    She worked her finger in between her inner cunt lips and touched the little hole where she made pee-pee. If asked she would have denied ever having to shit or piss. She was a lady of the top drawer variety. If she did shit she wanted everyone to believe that her turds came out smelling like powder puffs.

    The back of her head was pressed hard against the wall behind her toilet by this time and her facial features were beginning to contort because of the intensity of the sexual sensations she was giving herself. She could no longer hear the sounds coming from the ventilation pipe, because her own exclamations of pleasure were drowning those sounds out. Her cried of feminine joy were becoming increasingly loud and high in pitch. They were becoming shrill. Indeed, the muscles in the woman's neck were tensed. They were squeezing at her voice box and affecting the product of her vocal cords.

    She knew she didn't have to move her finger very far to touch her clit. She only had to pull upward about an inch. She was touching herself directly below her little man in the boat. But the beautiful blonde woman took a deep breath to replenish her willpower and pushed her finger downward instead. She rubbed in between the inner lips, deeper and deeper. She hooked her finger under the base of her pubic bone and penetrated herself with the middle finger on her right hand. She violated her own cunt in this fashion very slowly and carefully – making sure she didn't scratch herself with her long nail.

    She bent her wrist.

    She pushed in up to the third knuckle.

    She touched her own cervix. She caressed the mouth of her womb. She could feel her clit ready to come popping right out of her quim. Her back teeth were clenched and her eyes were closed tightly. Her mouth was open a little, the lips puckered and sensuous. She was breathing as if she were purposefully trying to hyperventilate herself. Her heartbeat was racing. She could feel a little perspiration on her inner thighs.

    Her toes curled under tightly. Her pink toes were gripping desperately at the balls of her dainty feet.

    She worked her finger in and out of her cunt slowly – and then faster. And then faster still. She worked three fingers up inside herself and she whipped that honey pot into a froth!

    Annabelle finger-fucked herself in this manner until she was on the edge of orgasm. She then placed her left forefinger at the very top of her slit, at the base of her inverted triangle of golden blonde pubic hair as she pulled her right fingers – which were all wet and sticky – out of her cunt. She placed her fingernail on her clitoral foreskin and tugged that fleshy sheath upward, completely away from the fiery bulb that was the focal point of her feminine craving.

    She rendered her love button completely naked and vulnerable to her own caress. She then touched her clit as lightly as she possibly could with the fleshy tip of her free forefinger. She pulled her finger away almost immediately.

    She knew that she didn't have to touch that fiery bulb. She knew that all sensations spawned by the direct caress to her clit would be amplified a thousand times by her aroused nervous-system.

    She sought – and she found – the most subtle clitoral caress. In spite of this, she could feel a lightning bolt of pleasure shooting up her spine toward the base of her skull.

    She could feel the shot of pleasure stopping at the base of her skull and then retreating. She dabbed at her clit with her finger, feeling a stronger bolt of pleasure each time – but she always pulled her finger away from the magic spot before her orgasmic convulsions had an opportunity to begin.

    She waited until all of her muscles were tensed. She waited until she was breathing so hard that she was hardly breathing at all. She waited until she was shuddering violently and she feared she would hurt herself – pull a muscle of something.

    Then Annabelle put her finger on her clit and left it there, she kept her finger still and alternated the pressure from light to firm – and then back to light again.

    She was hovering on the edge.

    She was teetering on the cliff.

    She was ready to tumble into the bottomless abyss of bliss.

    She began to roll her love button in several slow circles – and then a quick figure eight. That did it. She tipped herself over the edge and she fell into the bottomless pit. She let out a shrill cry as she could feel the explosions of sexual wonder starting up at the top of her thoroughly engorged snatch.

    She could feel the pleasure in her clit spreading until it filled her vulva – and then her entire lower torso. Her tongue flopped in and out of her mouth.


    Annabelle could feel the feminine ecstasy spreading through her – almost as if it were moving in slow motion.

    The joy dispersed from her clit in ever-increasing concentric circles – and they didn't stop until Annabelle was enveloped by them.

    The beautiful blonde woman could feel each and every one of her nerve-endings being affected by her pleasure. Her nervous-system was going berserk. She let out a loud cry of joy. Her lips stretched back over her teeth.

    A vein throbbed at her temple.

    She shook her head from side to side as the thunderclap rolled up her spine to the base of her skull, as before – where it now only paused for a fraction of a second before exploding into the gorgeous towhead's reeling brain.

    She could feel her fingers getting even wetter and stickier than before. Her asshole was opening and closing wildly, as if her orgasm had spread to that passageway as well.

    Her sense of time and space was badly warped by the acuteness of her pleasure. Annabelle was only vaguely aware of where she was. She felt as if her ass cheeks were lifting off the toilet seat.

    Annabelle's sense of reality left her. Her stream-of-consciousness began to travel many different paths – all simultaneously. Her thoughts were strewn in subject, diffuse, and her attention span was close to nil.

    Then the pleasure was over and she could feel her womanly ecstasy instantly becoming replaced – to her moaning delight – by the intense warmth and utter contentment of the woman's post-orgasmic afterglow. Her loins were rich and alive with her sexual appeasement. She quickly caught her breath.

    Reality began to filter back down into her brain. She could see the walls in front of her. The framed painting. The carpet beneath her feet.

    She struggled to catch her breath – and her milky white tits and pink nipples bobbed up and down on her chest as she sucked air into her lungs.

    She left her fingers in the pie for a moment or two – and then pulled them out quickly, embarrassed to see herself in that degrading way.

    She was sobered by her satisfaction and she quickly got up off the toilet. She went directly to the sink and washed her hands thoroughly. She dried them off and sniffed her fingers.

    Her nostrils still picked up the scent of her animalistic womanhood so she washed her hands again. This time she was satisfied that they smelled only of the soap she had used.

    She realized that she had to pee so she returned to the toilet and squatted over it. She leaned back because the muscles in her neck felt a little tight and she wanted to stretch.

    She happened to press her ear against the ventilation pipe when she did that – and she was surprised to find that she really could hear voices!

    Not only could she hear the voices, but she could understand the words. One of the voices belonged to a small Negro girl and the other to her husband.

    Annabelle almost forgot to urinate as she listened in on the conversation. She couldn't believe it. Her eyes got wider and wider. It has been said that hell hath no fury like a woman scorned. Pretty Annabelle Cornfield was about to prove that adage true.

    The conversation she heard went like this: "Tammy, you are gonna have to take the whole thing inside you."

    "But I can't Master, you are gonna rip me apart!"

    "Little slave girl, you don't know much about obedience."

    "Owwww! Don't do that to my nipple. Oh God!"

    "I will decide what to do and what not to do around here!"

    "But you hurt me so badly. How can you enjoy it?"

    "I enjoy it because I love you Tammy. This is how I love."

    "Lord have mercy on my soul! Please don't do it!"

    "You have taken my cock inside your pussy many times, Tammy."

    "Yes, but you said you weren't going to use your cock."

    "That's right! I am going to fuck you with my entire fist!"

    "B-b-b-b-but why do you need that black leather glove?"

    "Because I can't stand getting blood on my hands!!!!"

    Down in the torture chamber – totally unaware of the fact that he had an audience – and a very important audience at that – Bernard went about his weekly task of abusing the littlest of his slaves.

    He had put the black leather glove on his right fist and he had pressed in between the fingers to make sure it was on as snugly as Tammy Taylor had endured many things since she had been visiting her master's torture chamber. Her entire back, as well as his buttocks, showed the marks of his savage lash!

    She had cried more tears than she cared to count – endured more agonies than should be suffered by a human being. The master had almost convinced her that she was not a human being, but just an animal. Almost. Tammy still had a soul and she knew it!

    She was on the torture table on her back, her arms and legs cuffed in place. She was breathing very fast, making whimpering sounds of fear. She struggled against the cuffs, digging their sharp teeth deeper into the flesh at her wrists and her ankles. Her hands and her feet were darker than the rest of her body, blood forced into them.

    He produced a small dish of animal grease slightly coagulated, gathered from the kitchen after the previous night's meal. He covered the leather glove with that slippery grease.

    This was to be the lubrication.

    He slapped three fingers of grease onto her clit and rubbed it all around her pussy, on her outer lips, her inner lips, in between her inner lips.

    He ran the tips of his gloved fingers up and down the insides of the little black girl's thighs. He rubbed up and down her outer labia. For the umpteenth time since her arrival Tammy found herself praying that her cunt would get horny and swell and lubricate itself in spite of her fear.

    She couldn't do it though. She could only get wet for Jonah – and that was all there was too it. Horniness and love were inseparable in the girl's mind. He could ram a tree trunk up her, and he could diddle her clit until he stiffened in the joints of his wiggling finger – but he was never going to get a moan of pleasure out of Tammy Taylor. To tell the truth, this didn't make any difference to Bernard Cornfield one way or the other. He was interested only in his own enjoyment, and he dug it when she screamed very loud with pain. When she was in real agony – as she would be soon – he was having the time of his life. He considered himself very lucky that he was in a healthy position with plenty of flesh black meat to abuse on a daily basis. Naturally, Tammy wasn't the only slave that visited the torture chamber. The man had called each and every one of his nigger girls down into the basement at one time or another. He had been known to be particularly cruel to the fat women and the pregnant woman. One little girl aborted right there on his torture table. He told her he was going to reach inside her and pull the baby out. She believed this was possible and did the job for him – her terror destroying her ability to carry life any longer.

    He did something terrible to a fat woman strapped on her round belly once – and the woman had to wear diapers afterward because she could no longer control her bowel movements. She died shortly thereafter.

    He didn't care.

    She was fat and close to worthless. She wasn't going to drop any more kids and she ate more than her share. She was particularly dumb – even for a nigger, and couldn't seem to figure out the simplest of tasks. He was rather pleased when she kicked the bucket. Good for the plantation budget, was his thinking.

    Tammy watched as the man turned his right gloved hand so that the palm was upward, facing the ceiling of the creepy, dimly illuminated torture chamber.

    He worked the tip of his middle finger in between her inner cunt lips. He wiggled it around in the grease and pushed it a little deeper. He hooked that digit under the base of the little girl's pubic bone.

    He let loose with a sharp snap of his strong wrist – and he drove his finger all the way into her pussy all at once. He felt her inner labia tugging his finger at the third knuckle. He wiggled the finger and moved it in and out. He covered her internal tissues with the animal grease.

    He added his forefinger.

    Then his ring finger.

    He clustered those three digits together so that their tips looked like three corners of a small triangle. He twisted those fingers as he moved them in and out. Tammy tried desperately to relax the muscles at the sides of her vulva – but she found that all of her efforts were in vain due to the acuteness of her petrifying terror.

    She knew that her cunt was going to be stretched further that it had ever been stretched before – much further than it was stretched by even Jonah's prick.

    She whines with fear.

    Sweat poured from her.

    She could see him working his pinky into her pussy and she already felt as if her cunt were stretched further than it could go. Her mucous membranes were taut. Her clit was tiny and still buried beneath its protective sheath of flesh. She could feel him pushing against the mouth of her cunt as his gloved middle finger successfully located her cervix. He pressed hard against the spongy tissues in between the mouth of the diminutive nigger girl's womb and the base of her pubic bone.

    Now he had the tips of his fingers clustered like the corners of a square. He hollowed his palm and pressed the tip of his gloved thumb precisely against its center.

    The handsome white man could feel his own breathing quickening as he moved his huge feet on the bare floor so that he had perfect balance.

    Bernard Cornfield moved one foot slightly behind the other and they were parted to shoulder-width. He straightened his right arm and locked that elbow.

    He hunched up his shoulder.

    He gritted his teeth.

    He flexed his muscles.

    He began to push his hand against her pussy as hard as he could – and she began to scream bloody murder as she felt the tissues tearing.

    She watched in horror, the pain sweeping through, as his knuckles actually disappeared inside her cunt. She almost sighed with relief as her inner labia were given a chance to close a bit around the man's wrist. The glove he wore rolled up into her forearm – so her cunt never touched anything but leather. Bernard did not want to get nigger blood on his skin. He was afraid it might stain or something like that.

    But the worst was yet to come.

    His fingers were still straight and clustered within her. He began to bend his gloved digits at the knuckles and Tammy Taylor could tell he had no intention of calling a halt to this sadistic process until his right hand was clenched in a tight fist – a fat so tight that each and every one of his knuckles would turn white beneath his black leather glove. She could feel herself being stretched as no little girl should be stretched. She felt as if she were having a baby – only in reverse.

    "You are hurting me so badly! I can't stand it! You are ruining me! I can feel myself reipping inside! You are gonna make it so's I can't have no babies! Please! Puh-lease!Master! Master! Stop! Oh please stop!Stop just for a second! Give me just a second without this hurt!"

    The man just laughed at her.

    The man not only clenched his gloved hand into a fist, but he began to twist his fist inside her. She screamed some more, her screams weaker now with her exhaustion.

    She gurgled in her throat.

    Tammy prayed that she could pass out so she would not have to suffer the pain any longer – a pain much worse than the bite of the ship she had felt. She was convulsing with the petrifying fear that the man was doing something very serious to her, harming her worse than he ever had before.

    Tammy heard that the man was wounding her in a way that would never heal. She then felt him do something ever crueler. He pulled his fist all the way out of her cunt while it was still tightly clenched. She could hear her pussy make a sickening popping sound as his knuckles pulled free. Then he punched his fist back inside.

    He pulled out.

    He punched back in.

    He pulled out.

    He punched back in.

    And the man did that until the little girl passed out. She lost consciousness after the world began to spin around her in the most fascinating way.

    She almost smiled as she realized her conscious mind was going to cease functioning. She couldn't take the pain anymore as her body refused the register it.

    She drifted off into the world where there was no pain. And she dreamed sweet dreams of solitude, alone with Jonah, and maybe a baby.

    She dreamed of a world free of chains and whips and fists. She dreamed of a world filled with passionate caressing and wet kissing. A world of bliss rather than of agony. But she was a nigger and she was always going to be a nigger, so her subconscious could dream all it wanted. As long as she was in this world God was testing her, and she would always no the humiliation of the chain, and the agony of the whip and the fist.

    Once Bernard Cornfield saw that his slave had passed out he had no further urge to fist fuck her dark meat poontang. It just wasn't any fun unless he could hear her scream with pain. He straightened his fingers and pulled his sticky gloved hand all the way out of her.

    H winced as he looked at the glove. It was covered with blood.

    Up in Annabelle Cornfield's private bathroom, the beautiful blonde woman was still sitting on her toilet making pee-pee. She was slightly sick to her stomach.

    She was actually angry at Bernard, but she knew there was nothing she could do to hurt him. He would no doubt be glad if she left. She could kill him and make it look like an accident.

    She considered this for a moment and decided it was too risky. She then found an easier route. She was going to beat him by using some of his own medicine.

    She was going to get the biggest buck of a slave her husband owned – Jones would know which one – and she was going to take that nigger boy down to Bernard's own torture chamber.

    Yes, she was going to bind that boy, the boy who was the best worker, the most valuable hunk of beefcake Bernard owned, and she was going to whip that boy.

    Then, she was going to arrange to have Bernard come down while she was in the middle of beating that boy until he couldn't stand up anymore. Then Bernard could see that she could play that little game too. Yes, she would get Jones to pick out one of the best workers – the stud with the biggest cock. When Bernard comes down to see what she was doing in the torture chamber she would tell him that his dick had never been big enough to satisfy her and that she liked to fuck the nigger boys, because they knew how to get her rocks off. Yes, that's what she would tell him. And even though it was a lie, she would tell him that she knew about this room all along. That would get him. She would tell him that she allowed him to have his fun with the female slaves and didn't care about it one way or another – because he had never been able to do anything to satisfy her sexually anyway.

    She would have to built up her courage. She didn't know how she would feel around a naked nigger boy. The truth of the matter was that it didn't really appeal to her very much. She wondered if she could even lift one of those whips her husband used down there. She wondered if perhaps she weren't biting off more than she could chew. But no, she was going to go through with it! She just needed a little time to build up her courage. She would show that disgusting husband of hers once for all. She was going to put Bernard in his place – and she fully intended on keeping him there.

    Things didn't work out as Annabelle had planned. First of all, almost two weeks passed before Bernard left for Atlanta and she built up her courage to summon Jones to fetch her an appropriate nigger boy from the fields.

    During that time Jonah had been nursing Tammy's cunt and both were pleased to find that – in spite of her fears – she had healed completely.

    Tammy had ever done some exercises in her cunt each time she squatted to pee so that the muscles inside her pussy would return to their former tightness.

    It had been a long time since Tammy's cunt had been in shape to fuck. She gave Jonah one or two blow jobs a night just to keep her man sane. There wasn't much he could do to help her except hug her and kiss her and tell her how much he loved her.

    It was the very morning that Annabelle decided to use Bernard's torture chamber for the first time, that Jonah and Tammy decided the little girl's fuck hole was ready to do its womanly duty once again.

    Tammy was sure she was ready to take Jonah's cock. Her loins and her pussy itself were telling her how badly she needed to be fucked.

    "How do you feel, baby?"

    "I'm already getting wet."

    "I wish we could fuck all day."

    "You have to go to work soon."

    "I know. We had better get at it."

    Getting at it was not difficult as the two of them were already naked in their straw bed together. They were sprawled on their sides facing one another. Tammy's cocoa colored nipples were throbbing against Jonah's hairless and extremely muscular chest.

    Jonah could feel the blood pumping into his cock, and the ache entering his balls. Tammy could feel his huge dick firming up against the front of her legs.

    Jonah placed his hands on Tammy's shoulders and easily rolled her over on her back. She opened her legs quickly, just before he rolled on top of her.

    For a moment the full weight of the black man's chest was on his woman's breasts. He was pressing her tits flat with the weight of his massive upper torso.

    He was making it very difficult for her to breathe. She could feel his long, long cock throbbing against the inside of her thigh. The tip was not far from the wet tissues of her pussy at all. She could feel the side of his scrotal sack on her legs also.

    Tammy wriggled her hands free and pushed on Jonah's shoulders to give him a gentle reminder that he was a little heavy on her. Her clit was swelling. Her inner cunt lips were opening and closing rhythmically in sync with her racing heartbeat as if they wanted to suck his cock right up between them like a living vacuum cleaner. Her juices were drooling out of her poontang. The scent of her cunt began to fill the room. Jonah watched the juices streaming from the little girl's dark slash and he couldn't help but think that they looked like so many melted pearls as they oozed like a slow waterfall down over her asshole and the rest of the crack of her ass, finally making a wet spot on their sole blanket. She began to rock back and forth. She had the balls and soles of her tiny feet flat on the bed and her knees were up in the air. She was squeezing at the man's slender hips with the insides of her thighs.

    The man realized that his upper torso was too much for her chest to take so he placed the palms of his hands flat on the bed on either side of Tammy's pretty head, the tips of his digits pushing under their chicken-feather pillow.

    He pressed down with his palms and straightened his elbows. He arched his back and lifted his chest so that only her pebble-like nipples were touching his stretched skin.

    He got up on his toes.

    He lifted his loins.

    She could feel his balls and the base of his cock shaft lifting away from her leg. He suspended himself in the air over her. Only the tip of his cock was throbbing against her inner thigh – an inch or two from her boiling honey pot. He supported the weight of his upper body with his right arm exclusively and reached back with his left to grip his cock. He squeezed his dick a couple of times and then used that huge black hand to guide his cock to her cunt. He rubbed her clit with his piss hole and she shivered with pleasure.

    "Oooooooooh, baby, you know what to do!" she said.

    "Easy does it, baby. We gotta long way to go," he said.

    He ran the tip of his prick up and down the entire length of her cunt slash. He did this mostly because it felt very good for both of them.

    But he also did it because he wanted to cover his cock head with her plentiful natural lubrication. He knew the initial penetration of her recently healed poontang would be easier if both her hole and his pole were all wet and slippery. He moved the head of his cock inside her inner cunt lips. He adjusted as tensed his ass. He jack-knifed at the waist a little bit. He began to push. The little girl could feel the intensity of the desire inside her cunt so close to the mouth of her womb growing and growing. Her lust was getting out of control and she was already moaning and groaning very loudly by the time the head of his dick pushed inside her.

    She could feel a sharp pang of pleasure as his cock head found her cervix. She felt his cock tip on the back wall of her cunt. He still had several inches left to push inside her. She still had to stretch to take him – just like always. Her pussy was a remarkable thing – and had made an impressive comeback very quickly. She could feel herself stretching length-wise and width-wise to take him. The shaft of his cock was so thick that the top of that ebony stalk was going to rub against her clit when he fucked her. When the hump became frenzied, little Tammy knew, her clit was going to be battered back and forth violently.

    He kept pushing even when his cock was all the way inside her. Her tits pressed against his chest once again, but this time she didn't mind. She rubbed between his extraordinarily broad shoulder blades with her delicate fingertips. She lifted her feet off the bed. She lifted her legs.

    She pointed her toes at the ceiling.

    She locked her knees in the straight position.

    She made a vee with her shapely gams.

    She then turned her toes inward and bent at the knees. Her knees pushed outward – almost in opposite directions, as she crossed her ankles and placed her calloused heels at the small of Jonah's back.

    In this manner the little girl clutched her man desperately with all four of her limbs at the same time. They were about to fuck as if it were their very last time.

    He gyrated his hips with his massive cock throbbing all the way inside her. He stretched her inner cunt lips and the inner walls of her pussy in every possible direction with that grinding motion. Her ass cheeks rolled up off the bed so that the weight of her feminine lower torso was on the small of her back. Finally the man began to pull back with his hips. With each inch he withdrew Tammy felt a larger void inside her, a void that craved to be filled to the brim with cock meat once again. He pulled out just as slowly as he had originally penetrated – just a fraction of an inch at a time. He didn't stop pulling back with his cock until only the head was still in.


    Jonah began to fuck the little girl with a smooth steady motion. At first the huge man wiggled his ass from side to side almost as much as he humped it up and down. He was making her lust grow very quickly – so quickly that Tammy was startled a little bit by the intensity of her sensations. It had been so long since she had been made love to by her man, and she had almost forgotten how good it felt. She wanted those sexy sensations his huge cock was giving her to ripple up and down her spine forever and ever. She wanted this loving fuck with her loving man to last for all eternity.

    "Ccccoooommmmhiinnnngggg!!!!" Tammy Taylor screamed at the top of her lungs a fraction of a second after Jonah rammed his rod into her particularly hard. They could both smell the scent of her dark meat poontang richly in their flaring nostrils. They could both hear the funny sounds their fucking was making. Squish-squash. It sounded like that.

    Tammy was pleased to discover that her orgasm was short and sharp and spread through her completely, but also by the fact that, when it was over, it had done nothing to suppress her urge to fuck.

    Incredibly, the little black girl discovered that she wanted to hump Jonah more after her orgasm than she had before it – and she would not have even thought that was possible unless she had experienced it for herself.

    She knew that she was going to have no trouble coming more than once while the black stud's lance of masculinity was working in and out of her womanly love tunnel. Tammy was already starting to suspect that her loving man was going to make her come more times than she could possibly count.

    Jonah straightened out his fucking motion, so he was no longer wagging his tensed ass cheeks from side to side as much. He started into a rhythmic up and down motion, and Tammy loved the way she could feel her inner cunt lips being pushed and pulled by the turgid pole.

    Tammy could feel her clitoral foreskin being worked up and down across her love button – thus enhancing the pleasure she was feeling inside her cunt. Her urge to be fucked had caused her clitoris' role as the focal point of her womanly craving to be usurped.

    Her new center of feminine pleasure was deep inside her cunt close to the mouth of her womb, and she could feel the tip of Jonah's humongous cock ramming hard against that spot again and again, and again. She could feel her libido approaching its second orgasm of the fuck.

    She came for a second time – and this ecstasy was quickly followed by her third release of the ball. She couldn't help but notice that each fantastic orgasm was a little bit longer and a little bit more intense than the one before it.

    The little girl could tell that the wet spot caused from the juices dripping from her cunt on the blanket that covered their straw bed beneath her ass was getting larger with each passing second.

    She could feel the tip of the man's cock hammering into her lower belly. She remembered the very fist time Jonah fucked her at that moment, and she remembered how confused she had been by her own enjoyment. Until she met Jonah she had not entirely been aware that she was supposed to get off on sex. But he had done things for her that her imagination would never have been able to conjure in a million years.

    His cock had touched her in places where she had never been touched before – and more. His cock had touched her internal areas in places that she didn't even know she had places she would have sworn up and down could not be reached from the outside unless she had experienced it for herself.

    He had taught her where the core of her womanly pleasure really was – and he had made her feel as if she were impaled like a butterfly on a pin. There were times when the little nigger girl really did think his cock was going to push all the way through her. She wouldn't have been surprised if the tip of his cock had come pushing out her mouth!

    She could feel her third orgasm – and at that point the pretty little girl stopped counting. There was no point. Numbers no longer mattered to Tammy Taylor. They were irrelevant.

    Only the intensity of her sensations mattered in her reeling brain. She felt as if she were weightless floating up in the sky with the clouds. Tammy felt as if she were going for a ride on a magic carpet. She could feel her sense of time being shattered.

    Each second seemed like a minute – each minute like an hour. She was convinced that Jonah had better hurry up and come or else he would be late for, work – when the truth of the matter was that they had not been fucking for nearly as long as she thought.

    She began to snap off her orgasms very close to one another. Frighteningly close. It got to the point where Tammy was having trouble telling her orgasms apart because of their proximity. It got to the point where the first spasm of one come coincided with the last convulsion of the previous feminine release, so that they were indistinguishable.

    Tammy was thrilled to discover that she felt more like she was having one continuous orgasm – rather than a bunch of smaller conies strung closely together, which happened to be the case.

    Tammy's eyes were closed so tightly that her lids were wrinkled and her black eyelashes were crushed against her high cheekbones. She was thrashing her head wildly from side to side with her mouth opening and closing erratically. She worked her jaw from side to side anxiously as if she were trying to relieve cramps in the hinges at the sides of her gorgeous little face.

    "I can't stop coming! I can't stop coming!Jonah! Jonah! Ilove you so much! You are fucking my pussy inside out lover! You are turning me inside out! I can see bright flashes of light going off in front of my eyes! It's too much! I cant take it anymore!"

    Tammy thought that new plateau of pleasure would last forever – but it has been said that all good things must come to an end, and the same thing is true of even the most fantastic fucks. She knew, however, that the fuck would not end until Jonah ended it with the spilling of his silver seed deep inside her lower belly, well past her dimpled cervix.

    Her internal cunt muscles gripped and clutched and tugged and squeezed at the shaft of the man's cock each time he withdrew. Her inner pussy felt as if it were filled with a thousand little fingers – and Jonah felt that each and every one of those fingers had been put there especially to pleasure his dick.

    The pretty little black girl felt ready to pass out from pleasure – just as she had passed out from pain when Bernard Cornfield punched his gloved fist inside her tight little pussy again and again.

    Then the man felt the tickle of sexual anxiety at the base of his cock growing into a fireball. He could tell the end was near. He could tell that he and Tammy Taylor had reached the homestretch of the fuck.

    Jonah immediately shifted his hips into high gear and then into overdrive – moving his tensed and pressed together ass cheeks up and down so fast that they were a blur to the naked eye.

    He could feel extra blood pumping into both the head and the shaft of his cock. He could feel his tool of masculinity becoming urgently turgid. He could feel the throbbing head of his dick ready to burst from the internal pressure of his hot pumping blood. His piss hole was opening and closing in a frenzied manner – anxious to puke up his nigger spunk.

    He then rammed the entire length of his cock into the little girl and this time he kept it there. She could feel his humongous scrotal sack throbbing against her tight little asshole.

    She could feel his kinky pubic patch pressing and grinding against her femininely sloping and practically bald mound. She could feel the tip of his cock getting ready to spew the fuck juice somewhere incredibly deep inside her diminutive lower torso. He stretched her pussy further than it seemed like a pussy should be able to stretch – yet she did not feel a twinge of pain. Her flesh was always as elastic as Jonah wanted it to be. She was convinced that she would not have bled a single drop if Jonah had been the one to fist fuck her. She thought this in spite of the fact that her lover's hand was a good deal bigger than her master's.

    She could feel herself snapping off her umpteenth come at that very moment – and she was pleased to find that her final come of the fuck was – by far – her longest and her most intense. Tammy Taylor knew why this was true.

    She knew that her pleasure reached a new pitch at precisely that moment because she and her man were coming simultaneously. She felt as if there were only orgasm in that shack at that moment. It did not belong to Jonah and it did not belong to Tammy – but rather they shared its pleasure equally. She could feel them shivering and screaming together. Indeed, they sang out a duet in homage to their common bliss. She could feel his jism violently spewing against the stretched back wall of her inner cunt. He filled her with cream.

    Then the passion was through.

    "Ooooh, baby," Jonah said.

    "Yeah. You know what?"

    "What's that, honey?"

    "You keep getting better and better."

    "I was about to say the same about you."

    "You know how many times I come?"

    "How many?"

    "About a thousand and ten!"

    "That's a lot. I only came once – but it was a big one."

    "It doesn't seem fair that you only get to come once."

    "Don't you worry about that. I'm getting mine and plenty more."

    "I'm glad you feel that way. You have to go."

    "In a few minutes."

    "But the master?"

    "He's always late in the morning. I just want to lie here with my cock inside you. I want to feel myself getting smaller inside your pussy. What an amazing pussy!"

    "Why do you say that?"

    "I was just thinking of the condition Master Cornfield left it in and now it seems as good as new. I didn't hurt you when I was fucking really hard, did I?"

    "Oh no. No pain. Nothing but pleasure."

    "I'm glad."

    Finally, after Jonah's cock had deflated to complete flaccidity, allowing the little girl's pussy muscles to completely relax for the first time in what felt like ages, he pulled his limp dick all the way out of her.

    His cock did not get that much shorter and skinnier when it deflated. It just softened – and of course his ebony tool of masculinity lost its ability to defy the laws of gravity with his appeasement.

    He rolled over on his back, stared at the thatched roof, and took a deep breath. He then lifted himself to his feet and found his cloth trousers. He pulled his pants on and tied his rope belt tightly. It was a very hot day and he would wear no shirt in the fields to cover his huge chest and back. He slipped his feet into beat up old shoes one of the Negro cobblers had made for him. Tammy stood, still naked, and they hugged standing up. They kissed sensuously on the lips for a long time and then – in a flash – Jonah was out the door. Tammy had to report to the house in an hour herself, but she figured she had some time to lie around and savor her afterglow. The sun was just rising.

    Jonah had been working for an hour – long after Cornfield had checked to see that everyone was on time for work, but arriving late himself – when he received a message from one of the small nigger boys who worked with the woman. The boys did domestic chores with the women and the small girls and weren't moved out to the fields until they sprouted hair on their balls, at which time hard labor was theorized to keep their minds off dirty nigger business. The message was that Mrs. Cornfield wanted to see him in the lobby of the big house. Jonah was confused. The blonde woman had never shown any interest in the black bucks before. He had received calls at other plantations like this one – and it always meant the white lady of the house was looking to fuck some black cock meat. Jonah had been on a plantation once where a slave got castrated when the woman's white body spit out a brown baby. Jonah had fucked the woman himself and was afraid he would get blamed. But when the woman was asked who the father of the baby was by her husband she had pointed her finger at another, an innocent man perhaps. Jonah's ass had been saved, but he had been sold shortly thereafter nonetheless. Jonah had a thing for white cunt. A nigger could get shot for even looking wrong at a white woman. That was because the white men knew their wives all lusted after the nigger boys and they were scared. Jonah had thought about Annabelle Cornfield in ways he knew he wasn't supposed to – but he had always figured that as long as he kept his fantasies to himself there was no harm to them. Now she was calling for him.

    Annabelle had just come back upstairs after her first journey down into the torture chamber and her knees were feeling a little shaky.

    She knew exactly when her husband would be leaving Atlanta to return home. She would time everything so he would come into the house and be sent by Jones immediately to the basement, where he would find his wife with the naked slave boy, his back all torn from the lashes of the whip she would be yielding.

    That was the plan. Things didn't work out that way. Bernard did his part. He arrived home right on time. It was Jonah who botched Annabelle's plan.

    Jonah thought maybe he should stop in the shack and get a shirt before he went to the big house. He did this, Tammy having already reported for domestic duties in the kitchen. He showed up in the front lobby with an extremely nervous expression on his face. Annabelle took one look at him and her mouth fell open. Her eyes opened so wide that the whites were visible all the way around her baby blue pupils.

    Yes, Jonah was a lot bigger than she thought he would be. It occurred to Annabelle that she had never looked at one of the nigger boys up close before – at least not those big bucks who worked their backs out in the fields. She knew the old black gentlemen who worked in the stables. She always viewed the black boys in the fields as one would watch a flock of animals grazing out in a field. They were actually quite nice to look at, but she had never had the urge to stroke and pet one. Not until now. She could feel a tingling between her legs, which actually took her by surprise. She was ashamed of herself. It occurred to her that she might not know what the hell she was doing – but she decided that she had gone too far to turn back at this point so she ordered Jonah down into the torture chamber.

    "Bernard has such a marvelous time whipping the little girls that I thought I would whip me a nigger boy, and you are the lucky one," she said.

    Jonah winced. He could feel his face getting hot. He had suffered so many indignities, and he had suffered with Tammy through hers, that he was close to the breaking point. He looked at that gorgeous blonde as they reached the bottom of the stairs, and he could feel his anger and his lust mixing together, until the two emotions blended and became inseparable.

    The woman told Jonah to stand beneath two chains and cuffs that were dangling from the ceiling attached to a pulley. She lowered the cuffs and forced the man to put his hands in them before locking them shut. She then cranked the pulley again so that his arms lifted over his head. He cranked the pulley until his elbows were locked in the straight position and his shoulders felt as if they were going to be torn from the sockets. He had to get up on his toes a little bit to relieve the pressure in his shoulders. He could feel the muscles at the backs of his legs starting to ache and he could tell that his pain was going to get a hell of a lot worse before it got better. Annabelle could no longer ignore her desire or her curiosity. She began to stroke the nigger's back, running her fingertips lightly over his thick slabs of muscle. She walked around to the other side of his and touched his chest. She fingered his nipples. She reached behind him and rubbed the palm of her hand over his buttocks. Did she dare touch his privates? Yes she did! She reached under his balls and took them in her palm. She squeezed his lemons and she could see that his cock was beginning to get hard.

    She pulled her hand away immediately.

    "How dare you allow yourself to get horny when I touch you. You could be shot for having those sort of thoughts about me, nigger boy!" Annabelle said.

    But his cock continued to grow and there was a new expression on Jonah's face – an expression of defiance. With his anger came a new strength – an almost super-human strength. He could feel it building up inside him – ready to bust loose at any second.

    The woman went to the whip display. She looked at the lashes and she could see that they were all too big for her to possibly handle. Then the beautiful blonde saw the perfect thing.

    A riding crop.

    A horse whip.

    She had used such whips while riding and she took the crop down off the wall and ran it over the palms of her hands. She wondered how long Bernard had owned this little beauty.

    It was made of East Asian bamboo and the finest black leather. She moved to Jonah's rear and quickly brought that horse whip down as hard as she could across both of his ass cheeks at the same time. He grunted with pain and she could see his entire body jerk with the pain as many of his thick muscles suddenly tensed up on him involuntarily.

    She hit him again and again with the whip and she was pleased with herself. She began to laugh and once she started laughing she could not stop. She laughed until there were tears in her eyes. She gave her arm a rest. She didn't want to wear herself out before she had a chance to show off her whipping form to her shocked husband. She walked around to the front of Jonah once again and took his huge cock in her hand. She could feel a steady pulse in her poontang and she could tell that she was lubricating herself in between her legs.

    She squeezed his dick until it started to grow. She had a cruel thought. She brought the riding crop down right across the top of his stiffening cock shaft as hard as she could. Tears welled in Jonah's eyes because of the pain this blow spawned. His anger became intense, and the expression on his face implied that steam would soon be pouring from his ears.

    The black man concentrated all of his energy on the chains and cuffs of steel that held his arms stringently over his head. He pulled down with his arms, even though that made those cuffs dig deeply into his wrist flesh. Annabelle could tell he was trying to free himself but she just laughed at him and struck his cock with the riding crop again. Then her face when pale.

    The chains snapped over the man's head. He had broken the chains with his raw strength. His arms lowered to his side. He was free. His stinging cock once again began to grow. It was growing quickly now and he knew he would soon have a full-fledged boner.

    "That's too much, ma'am. Now I'm afraid I'm gonna have to give it to you and give it to you good," Jonah said. He grabbed the white woman by the arm, digging his fingertips into her flesh hard enough to pucker and bruise it.

    He pushed one hand over her mouth so she could not scream and he told her that he would strangle her to death if she made a peep. Bernard was due any minute – and Annabelle, in spite of the ache in her cunt – prayed that Bernard would show up and save her before she suffered a fate worse than death!

    With Jonah's free hand he ripped the woman's pretty dress right off of her body. He grabbed the riding crop from her hand and whipped her ass twice. He wheeled her around and whipped her right breast. He then tossed the horse whip aside carelessly – without even bothering to turn his head and see where it went. He could hear it, however, scuttling across the floor toward the far corner of the torture chamber.

    He ripped off her panties and then tripped her with a big foot so that she fell onto the bare wood floor very hard. He was on top of her like a cat and she could feel the entire length of his prick pinned between their lower bellies. She could feel the base of his cock pulsating against the center of her golden pubic patch. She could feel the tip of his dick throbbing in between her concave bellybutton and her tits. She knew that her pussy was going to have to stretch a lot more than it did when Bernard fucked her. She was panicky. Her eyes were wild.


    She tried to struggle but he bounced the back of her head against the wooden floor until she was groggy and still. He then lifted from her so he could use his hand to guide the tip of his ebony pole toward that pink and blonde cunt.

    He pushed the head of his cock against her cunt and she opened up for him a hell of a lot easier than he had counted on. She was downright soupy down there – and Jonah hadn't anticipated that at all. He felt himself stretching her open, pushing and pushing until the entire length of his cock was inside her. He then began to fuck.

    There was nothing subtle about the way Jonah fucked.

    He did not start out slow and slowly increase the tempo.

    He fucked the wife of his master as hard and fast as he could right from the very first stroke and the woman could tell that he was making her bleed inside her cunt.

    She let out a cry of pain.

    Then a cry of revulsion.

    Then a cry of surprise.

    Then a moan of pleasure.

    She began to move with the fuck and he could feel the tension going out of her. She was getting into it. His cock was slippery and moving in and out of the white woman's stingy cunt with greater ease than he would have thought possible. He began to ride her high so that his cock would work her clitoral foreskin up and down across her love button. Yes, he made her come with that huge cock of his and she was screaming with pleasure when the basement door opened. Jones, thinking he was doing what the woman wanted him to do, let the master downstairs. He was furious when he saw what Jonah was doing to his wife. He pulled his gun out of his holster and pointed it at Jonah's head. The black man stopped fucking. The sight of that gun killed his hard on immediately. Jonah pulled out of the woman.

    Annabelle wasn't about to admit that she had been enjoying herself. She began to scream at her husband hysterically.

    "He raped me!Bernard! He hurt me so bad! He came in the house and he dragged me down here and he tore my clothes right off my body and he threw me down and he jumped on top of me and then he made me do it with him! Oh Bernard! He hurt me so very badly! Ifear i will never be the same again for as long as I live!"

    "That true, Jonah?" Bernard asked.

    "No, sir."

    "You calling my wife a liar?"

    "Yes, Master."

    "Boy, you know what a gelding is?"

    "Yes, Master."

    "Boy, that's what you gonna be in a minute. Now I see you busted some chains. How did he bust the chains?"


    There always come times in every man's life when he doesn't know what the fuck to do. This was one of those times for Bernard Cornfield.

    He looked at the huge black slave, who was scared shitless, and he looked at his wife, who was puffy about the lips and wet about the cunt.

    He looked at those broken chains, and he looked at the welts on the backside of the slave. He knew the slave was telling the truth and that his wife was lying. He was torn as to what to do. He knew that – to save face – he was going to have to punish the slave, even though his wife had tormented him into the attack.

    He knew he was going to have to punish the slave in spite of the fact that it was fairly clear his towheaded mate had been thoroughly enjoying that huge black prick. Bernard told his wife to get upstairs and to clean herself up as much as she could. And he wasn't kidding about this. He told her to move quickly to lessen the chances of anyone seeing her in that condition. Bernard Cornfield then ordered several of his servants to come down into the torture room and help him handle Jonah, because he correctly assumed that the big buck was going to struggle before he could be bound once again.

    The huge black man was going to have to be bound with thicker chains, since he was obviously too strong to be held in place by any of the steel links already down there. One of the servants was sent to fetch the strongest chains on the plantation.

    Bernard could feel the cold sweat pouring off his body as the men, both black and white, conspired before his very eyes to ruin his manhood. His fuck of Annabelle Cornfield was to be his last.

    Jonah thought about Tammy, and what would happen to her now that he would be no good to her any longer. He thought about the torments that his woman would have to go through. He knew that would be just as severe as they had been – and maybe more severe, only now he wouldn't be around to sooth her wounds after she returned from a session in Cornfield's torture chamber.

    At that moment, upstairs in the Cornfield Mansion, Tammy Taylor was busy scrubbing the floors. She was aware that there was a scurry of activity involving the torture chamber.

    Tammy saw Annabelle emerge from the downstairs horror room looking half dressed and quite disheveled. She saw the slaves running up to fetch thick chains and then returning to the chamber.

    Tammy wondered what was up. She returned to her work – never once suspecting that any of this had anything to do with Jonah. As far as Tammy knew only the female slaves were abused down in the torture chamber.

    It would never have occurred to the pretty little black girl in a million years that it was her man, her lover, who was about to face the worst torture of all.

    Tammy was scrubbing very hard at the dining room floor when she heard the howl of pain from down below, an animalistic cry of agony.

    She thought it was the sound of Jonah's strangled voice – but she told herself it was just her overworked imagination. Tammy was in another part of the house when the burlap sack containing Jonah's body was carried upstairs and immediately out of the house.

    The sack was thrown onto a big bonfire that had been built and the smoke that rose into the air was all that was left of Tammy's love. That is, except for the special part of Jonah, which Bernard had decided to keep in a box.

    It was the following day and Tammy Taylor had been summoned down to the torture chamber. She had been weeping all night because Jonah had not shown up at the shack they shared.

    Tammy thought that Jonah had spent the night with another woman, and her mind was on her lover, even though she knew she was about to face yet another harsh torture session in the chamber in the bowels of the Cornfield mansion.

    She had stripped herself naked and was standing near the torture table when Bernard Cornfield approached her, holding the box in front of him.

    The evil white man removed the lid from the box and invited Tammy to look inside. The little girl could feel all of the blood draining from her face and she instantly felt dizzy.

    Her coffee colored skin became slick with cold sweat and she could feel her stomach becoming ill. She saw what was in the box – and she knew she would never be able to erase that ugly memory from the gray matter within her skull for as long as she lived.

    "Do you see what is in the box, little nigger cunt? That's right, it's the cock and the bloody balls of your man, your lover. I had to cut them off. Unfortunately the man bled to death but you can still have the part of him that you liked best. Here, take the box. It is yours. A present from me to you. I want you to keep it for all times, as a souvenir. A memento of the good times you had with him. You see, he stepped out of line. That nigger boy went too far and he had to be punished. I didn't want to do it, but I had to do it, because we can't have nigger boys around here messing with the white women, especially when the white woman involved is my wife. Your lover, the man you loved, really was an animal, you see. He raped my wife and he had to lose his manhood. He had to lose his life. Before I had to share you with him, nigger cunt. But those days are over. Now you are mine alone, and you will live only to serve my cock and my whip."

    Tammy thought that she was asleep having some sort of horrible nightmare. She thought of pinching herself to see if she was really awake – but that was not necessary.

    She felt pain.

    The pain was real.

    Too real.

    She was awake, all right!

    "What? You don't want the box with Jonah's cock and balls in it? I am surprised. I would think you would want to shove it inside yourself at night, just so you could remember what it was like when he fucked you. Very well, you refuse my gift. I will have it burned, just the way I had the rest of that nigger boy burned. But you will get a present from me, because I am in the mood to give you one. I will give you a present that you will be unable to refuse!!!"

    Tammy was ordered to get on her back on the torture table and she was quickly bound into place in a spread-eagled position. She had been through this many times before.

    She had a feeling that the man intended on hurting her and humiliating her worse than he ever had before – but she really didn't mind.

    She felt tremendous guilt.

    The little girl figured she was responsible for her lover's death when you got right down to it. She had told him about the horrible ways she had been mistreated down in that torture chamber.

    She knew that it was her own pain, which Jonah had shared as if it were his own, which had sent him down to that torture chamber to rape Annabelle Cornfield.

    She had no idea that it had been Annabelle who had constructed the entire situation, and that Annabelle was responsible for her man's demise.

    Tammy thought it was she who was to blame – and she felt she was deserving of all of the punishment Bernard Cornfield could dish out, no matter how sadistic and severe.

    Tammy was afraid, but her fear was tempered by her guilt. She resigned herself to the agony she knew to be impending. She resigned herself to the pain she knew she would have to suffer as long as her mortal soul remained on the earth.

    Tammy began to wish that Bernard Cornfield would just kill her and end her miserable existence. She knew that this would not be the case, however.

    Tammy, for all of her ignorance, was a keen judge of human nature, and she knew that Bernard enjoyed her pain too much to kill her. She would be no good to him when she was dead.

    He wanted her alive and kicking.

    Able to scream.

    Able to feel agony.

    "Yes, because you are now mine and mine alone, I am going to give you a fine piece of gold jewelry. You should feel honored, little nigger cunt, because no slave of mine has EVER been allowed to wear such a piece of jewelry," Bernard Cornfield said. He remained on one side of the torture chamber, so that Tammy Taylor would be able to watch his movements at all times.

    Bernard went to a cabinet across from the foot of the wooden slab torture table and pulled out a tiny gold ring – which looked like an earring worn by woman with pierced ears.

    "This is a nipple ring," Bernard Cornfield said holding the ring up for Tammy to see in between his right thumb and forefinger. "But, of course, before you can wear it, I will have to make a hole in your nipple. I wan you to relax and reflect a moment on just how much pain you will experience while I am making the hole in your nipple, mutilating your feminine erection, so that you will never be the same again."

    "Pleas… no!" Tammy whimpered. Her heart felt as if it were pumping its way right up into her throat – as if it were sooner or later going to work its way right out of her mouth.

    Her lips were parted and trembling. Her nipples were erect with fear. Bernard was pleased that the little girl's chocolate colored nipples were stiff – because this would make them much easier to pierce.

    Her tits were so firm and fill with her sexy youth, that they hardly flattened at all, in spite of the fact that she was on her back and the force of gravity was directly against them.

    The man moved to the side of the torture table. He placed the ring and the needle on the table beneath the little girl's arm. He grabbed her right nipple with his thumb and forefinger – as he had decided that this was the feminine erection he wanted most to pierce.

    He pinched the nipple.

    He pulled at it.

    He pulled the cocoa colored rosebud until the skin all around it was stretched taut and the whole breast was made to look pointier then usual.

    The man released his grip on the nipple and allowed to snap back into place. He was going to make the little girl wait for her agony for a moment longer. He was smart enough and sadistic enough to know that the dread Tammy Taylor was experiencing at that moment was an intricate part of the torture.

    He took the long, thick needle over to one of the lit lamps on the wall. He removed the lamps cover and held the needle over the open flame.

    When the needle was very hot, almost glowing with heat, he returned to the table. The tip of the needle had become very hot, while the base, where the man held it, was still cool enough to not burn his fingers.

    The sadistic white man then tugged the nipple once again with the thumb and forefinger on his left hand, while he held the hot needle in a similar fashion in his other hand.

    Bernard Cornfield ran the sharp tip of the needle all around the nipple – as if he were looking for a suitable spot to break the skin. The little girl concentrated on taking slow deep breaths to keep herself calm, but she found that all of her efforts were futile. She was scared shitless, and she could barely breath at all because of her intense fear.

    The man had stopped moving the tip of the thick needle all together and there was a pause, which seemed like an eternity to Tammy, because her fear was severely elongating her sense of time. One one thousand, two one thousand, three one thousand and then…

    The sadistic white man stabbed with the needle, flicking his wrist. He drove the sharp tip right into the little girl's dark, hypersensitive nipple flesh. The man could have pushed the sharp needle all the way through the little girl's nipple if he had wanted to. But he didn't want to.

    He was going to pierce her nipple slowly.

    He wanted Tammy's pain to linger.

    He pushed the needle through her nipple only a fraction of an inch at a time as the little girl felt all of the muscles in her diminutive form tensing up on her involuntarily and simultaneously. She strained to arch her back and lift her tensed black ass cheeks away from the torture table, but her stringent bondage prevented her from doing so.

    He pushed and he pushed, holding himself back, because indeed, there was a part of the white man that wanted to stab the needle through that nipple as fast as he could also. But he held himself back and summoned up all of his patience and all of his willpower.

    Many seconds after the needle first sunk into the little girl's nipples flesh he could finally see the skin on the other side of the feminine erection pushing outward.

    Tammy didn't want to watch herself being mutilated in this fashion – but somehow she could not help herself. Some part of morbid curiosity forced her to watch what was happening.

    Not only did she watch, but she watched with eyes wide and unblinking. Indeed, the little black girl did not blink until her eyes burned and felt full of sand.

    And the pain.

    The pain was indescribable.

    The pain was beyond words.

    Her scream of pain was a strangled gurgle, and she remembered the howl of pain she had heard while scrubbing the floors, and she knew that this had been the last cry of her lover – and now she heard her own voice, sounding far, far away, and it reminded her of him and the pain they shared – and she once again prayed to a merciless God whom she had worshipped for so long. She prayed once again that her white master would kill her – so that she and Jonah could once again be together, this time forever, this time without torment.

    There was surprisingly little blood as the sadistic white man pierced the little girl's nipple. Only a droplet or two of crimson liquid oozed from the wound he had opened.

    There was a popping noise as the tip of the needle poked through the other side of the nipple. Now there were two wounds, one on either side of the nipples, but neither of them bled very much. She half expected, in her ignorance, to see milk come from those wounds.

    The man did not pull the needle back out right away. He did not want to hole he had opened up to close up on him immediately. He worked the needle back and forth through the bloody opening he had created. The nipple was a flap of brown flesh running up and down the needle. He did this for what seemed like forever before finally pulling the needle all the way out. He used a cloth to wipe the blood away and then picked up the little gold ring, which was still sitting on the wooden torture table beneath the little girl's arm.

    He inserted the ring in her nipple.

    He twisted it and then locked it shut.

    "Very pretty," he said.

    Tears streamed down Tammy's face.


    "Now, my precious little nigger cunt, I am going to release you from your bondage, but for only a moment. I do not want you to think that your torture session if through. Oh my, that would be quite an error on your part if you thought that. You are far from through. I am going to fuck you right up the ass as you have never been fucked before, my precious dark meat. But I am above getting nigger shit on my cock, so I am going to flush out and purge your bowels before I brutally bugger you," Bernard Cornfield said. The little black girl could tell that the man was getting quite horny by the huge throbbing bulge that had formed in the crotch of his increasingly tight trousers.

    He unlocked the cuffs that held the little girl's wrists and ankles in place. In a uncommon moment of tenderness, the sadistic whit man even massaged the little girl's hands and feet to make sure that the flow of blood was circulating properly once again into her fingers and her toes. The little girl could see that her pierced nipple was grossly swollen. It ached and throbbed, but the sharpness of the pain she had experiences while the needle was actually pushed through her nipple had faded. Her nervous system could only register so much pain before it turned off and numbed.

    He helped her to her feet and led her to the far corner of the torture chamber. The chains connected to the pulley – the chains Jonah had broken while he was being whipped by Annabelle Cornfield – had been replaced. The little girl was forced to stand beneath these cuffs. He ordered her to stand on the bare wood floor with her tiny feet shoulder width apart. He made her raise her arms high over her head.

    The man cranked the crank that lowered the cuffs. He attached the little girl's wrists inside the toothed cuffs tightly. Just when the sensation had returned to her tiny hands it was forced out again by her renewed bondage.

    He returned to the crank and lifted the cuffs, straightening the little girl's arms over her head, locking her elbows, and putting painful pressure on her shoulders. Indeed, there was a time – when Tammy Taylor thought her shoulders where going to be ripped right out of their sockets.

    "Now I want you to lower your head and bend forward at the wait," he said.

    "But I can't. My body is stretched straight. I can't bend over," she cried.

    Fresh tears of anguish were welling up in the little girl's eyes.

    "But you must," he said and placed his hand on the back of her head.

    "ARGH!" she screamed as he pushed her head down. The pressure on her shoulders was greater than before and she expected to hear the cracking of her bones at any second.

    The keep the girl jack-knifed at the waist the sadistic white man tied a leather strap around her waist and the back of her neck. She could feel unspeakable pain filling her already exhausted nervous-system.

    The handsome white man then went to the cabinet where he had previously fetched the ring the needle. He found in there an enema bag, such as those used in the old southern hospitals to help old people who were constipated take a healthy dump.

    He left eh torture chamber and filled the bag with water. He returned and attached the bag, now full, to the top of the metal pole mounted on wheels. The bag looked a lot like a hot water bottle but it had a long dangling hose to keep the water from flowing out prematurely. The nozzle at the end of the hose was made of carved ivory. It had several holes at its tip for the water to flow through. The nozzle – which was long enough to be appropriately called a syringe, was thickest at the tip and skinniest at the base.

    The thickest part of the syringe was designed to fit deep inside the little girl's ass, past her sphincter muscle, into her colon.

    Her asshole would squeeze at the skinny base of the nozzle – thus blocking the thick tip inside. Tammy could tell right away that it would take a sharp tug to get the nozzle back out of her asshole once it was deeply inserted.

    The man had filled the large bag to the very brim with cool water. There were man quarts of water in the enema bag, much more water than Tammy would have thought could possibly fit inside her bowels.

    In a pathetically weak voice the little girl asked her white master how much of the water she was expected to take inside herself. He told her that she would not be allowed to release a single drop of the water until the bag was completely empty.

    Tammy realized right away that it was going to take all of her courage and willpower to hold the water inside. Somehow she was going to have to learn – and learn fast – how to tense her sphincter muscle while relaxing at the same time. The man told her what he would do to her if she released the water prematurely, and she shuddered. She wanted to dir quickly – but the torturous method of death the man described to her at that moment was so horrible that she could not desire it. She knew she would have to take all of the water up inside her ass, no matter how much she and to stretch – no matter how severe the pain became.

    Tammy could feel the man's soft hand running over her ass cheeks – which by this time were permanently marked by the man's savage lash.

    He rubbed her ass cheeks gingerly at first – and then massage the flesh. He dug his fingertips right into the crack of her ass. She could feel the tip of his middle finger – this longest finger – touching her frightened asshole. He pulled her ass cheeks apart as far as they would go. He didn't stop separating her dark buttocks until the skin in the crack was stretched taut. He had the base of the enema's hose in his other hand. He pushed the blunt tip of the ivory syringe in the cleavage between her spread buns. He ran the tip up and down the crack of the little slave girl's ass and she shivered and moaned a little bit each time the ivory made direct contact with the mucous membranes at the mouth of the rectum. He stopped moving the syringe when it was poised at the center of the asterisk of her nether eye. He adjusted the nozzle so that it was at the appropriate angle for deep-anal penetration. Then, with a sudden snap of his strong wrist, he drove the syringe deep inside her ass. She grunted as if all of the air had been knocked from her lungs.

    Tammy could feel the tip of the syringe pushing right up into her colon. She could feel her anus involuntarily squeezing at the base of the nozzle – just like it was supposed to. The man paused and slowly counted to ten silently. He then removed the clamp from the hose that prevented the water from flowing. She could feel the cool water rushing into her ass – and her entire body jerked as if she had just been struck by a bolt of lightening.

    The water was cold compared to the heat of her inner ass, and she shivered violently as she felt as if her body temperature were lowering. She felt as if her body temperature lowered a good teen degrees in a matter of seconds. Her back teeth began to chatter instantly.

    Her first instinct – naturally enough – was to shit the water right back out, but she knew very well that that would be a big mistake. She tensed her asshole. She relaxed her colon as much as she could. She could feel the pressure inside her bowels getting a little bit worse with each passing second.

    Time dragged.

    In spite of the fact that she felt very cold, she could feel beads of hot sweat forming in a straight line across her brow. That brow, which was usually very smooth, was not deeply furrowed with her tension. Her back teeth were clenched together so tightly by this time that the muscles at the sides of her pretty face were starting to protrude. The muscles in her legs felt as if they were becoming increasingly weak. Her knees no longer support the weight of her body. Her knees were shaking. She felt as if her feet would no longer support the weight of her body, and this scared her also. If her legs gave out she knew the bones in her arms and shoulders would snap like a pair of breadsticks.


    Her belly was bloating grossly outward and her lips were stretched back over her teeth as the last few drops of cold water ran into her ass.

    The man fetched a porcelain bedpan from the cabinet and held it in his left hand. He moved to the little girl's rear. He had to pull the plug and get the bedpan in place quickly.

    He knew there was no way the little girl would be able to hold the water inside herself once the ivory plug had been pulled from her tight butt.

    He pulled the plug out of the little girl's ass quickly, forcing the muscle to stretch outward from the rest of the cleavage between her ass cheeks for a moment before snapping back into place.

    He quickly moved the bedpan into place and told Tammy Taylor that it was ok for her to release the water – and the little black girl figured these had to be the sweetest words she had ever heard. Her brain was no longer working properly.

    The horrors she had suffered, and the recent loss of her man, had warped her mind. She was temporarily insane. Her stream-of-consciousness was no longer working properly.

    She found that her thoughts were traveling in a thousand different directions at the time – and she would hold onto no single thought for more than a fraction of a second.

    The little girl instantly relaxed her asshole and clamped down simultaneously on the muscles inside her colon and her bowels. Her anus opened – dilated – until it was grossly gaping.

    Tammy Taylor could hear her asshole making a thunderous farting noise. It was the loudest fart the little girl had ever heard in her entire life – and that was saying something.

    Jonah had been known to cut some huge farts in the morning – especially on mornings after the slaves were served pork and beans for dinner. She tried not to think about Jonah.

    Tammy decided that the only way she could preserve what was left of her sanity was to never think about the love of her life again. She now only had one purpose – and that was to serve her white master.

    She could feel her asshole blustering painfully and loudly – and the water spewed violently out of her asshole – right into the porcelain bedpan. Bernard Cornfield held the bedpan until all of the water had emptied from her bowels. The last of the water came out thick and, sludgy, and he was pleased with this.

    Her bowels were purged and cleansed – and the man knew he could now fuck the little girl right up the poop-chute without worrying about getting shit on his dick.

    He took the bedpan out of the torture chamber and left it on the floor. One of the slaves would clean it later. He didn't have to do such things being a landowner and all.

    He then released the girl's wrists from their cuffs and she tumbled immediately onto the floor. He remove the leather strap that held rolled her onto her waist jack-knifed. He rolled her onto her belly right there on the floor and used a rag to wipe her ass clean.

    He thing picked her up in his arms – lifting her as if she was as light as a feather. He carried her over to the torture table once again and placed her on her belly so that her tits were flattened against the wood.

    The girl was crazy – and she half-knew it. She knew something had to be wrong with her. The thought of her white master sadistically sodomizing her was not filling her with terror any longer as it was supposed to. No, she was feeling horny.

    The little black girl could feel a tingling of desire in her asshole – a tingling she had never known before, not even when she was making it with Jonah.

    She felt as if she actually wanted to get fucked up the ass. She could feel her asshole opening and closing rhythmically, as if her brown nether eye were winking at her master.

    Tammy Taylor could feel the desire in her anus spreading inward to fill her tight tubular sphincter muscle. It spread inward further.

    It filled her colon and her bowels. She could even feel a focal point of her anal desire forming deep inside her ass – in a place where only the tip of her master's prick could touch it.

    As he rebound her to the table she could tell that something wonderful was going to happen when he buggered her. She could tell that he was going to make her come.

    Yes, he was going to give her an orgasm – and she could tell that it was to be a release unlike any other she had ever known. Her clit would have nothing to do with this orgasm.

    Her inner pussy would be unrelated to the release she would have. He was going to make her come inside her ass – something she would not have thought possible unless she had experienced it for herself.

    The man rubbed her tiny ass for a moment and then returned to the cabinet. He had cleaned up the enema bag and replaced it on its shelf.

    He now fetched a bottle of oil – with which he was to lubricate the anal intercourse. He did not want to use the oil because he sought to keep the little girl's pain to a minimum.

    On the contrary, the man did not give a shit about the little girl's pain one way or the other. He simply didn't want to work very hard. He felt lazy.

    He knew that he would have an easier time, and not break as much of a sweat, if both his pole and her asshole were made slippery with the oil.

    He set the bottle on the table in between the black girl's spread thighs. He yanked her ass cheeks open once again with his left hand exclusively.

    He then took the top off the bottle of oil with his right hand. He poured some of the oil at the top of the crack of her ass. He let gravity do some of the work for him at that point.

    The oil flowed downward into the stretched cleavage between her buttocks. The oil rolled over her opening and closing asshole – and then down into the base of her cunt.

    The asshole made funny noises, as if it were trying to suck the oil right up inside. The white man massaged the oil all over the mouth of Tammy's tight rectum with a circular motion of his fingertips.

    He then used his middle finger to push some of the oil right up inside her nigger fanny. His oily finger slipped up that tight passage way with ease.

    He wiggled his finger around inside her ass for a moment or two and then pulled it all the way out. He poured fresh oil onto his cupped palm. By this time he had his trousers down around his ankles and his stiffened cock was standing at attention with the tip snapping upward before his flat, muscular loins.

    He oiled his dick – putting extra oil on the bulbous purple cock head. He then set the bottle of oil on the floor and climbed up on the torture table. He knelt with both knees in between the little girl's tapered and forced-open thighs.

    He opened her ass and mounted her. She could feel the head of his cock pushing into the cleavage between her buttocks. He ran the tip of his cock up and down the crack of her ass just as he had done with the enema syringe.

    And – just as had been the case with the ivory nozzle – the little girl shivered and moaned each time the tip of his prick touched her asshole.

    He stopped the head of his dick on her asshole and began to push. He tensed the muscles in his own ass cheeks. He felt her opening with ease.

    Her asshole had been exhausted by the enema and was no longer able to battle the penetration, but the ease of the violation also came because Tammy truly wanted it. It was part of her punishment – part of the punishment she truly believed that she deserved.

    Tammy could feel all of the puckers in her anus being smoothed as the hole was stretched as far as it could possibly go. She could feel the head of his cock pushing inside her – and she could feel her anus pushing his foreskin back. He kept pushing and it was clear that he intended to keep pushing until each and every inch of his pulsating prick meat was inside her bowels.

    She could feel the tip of his cock pushing into her colon, and she felt the pain – but she found that she was enjoying the pain. It was an intrinsically sexual pain and her aroused nervous-system was translating it into pleasure before the sensation was registered by her brain.

    She could feel sharp pains inside her bowels and she could tell his cock was stretching that tight internal passageway too far in places.

    He was wounding her inside.

    He was drawing blood.

    The tip of his cock was getting ever-closer to the magic spot inside her ass – the focal point of Tammy Taylor's deep-anal desire. She could tell that something absolutely wonderful was going to happen when the man struck that magic spot with the tip of his cock.

    He took a deep breath.

    He filled his lungs with air. He grunted out the air.

    He stabbed down with his hips.

    He shoved the remainder of his cock inside her so that her asshole was gripping his dick at the hilt. She could feel the tip of his prick pulsating against the smelliest core of her womanhood. She was stuffed to the brim with cock meat. She knew his prick would be wearing a crimson coat by the time he was through buggering her, most of the blood clustering in a thick ring around the very base of his cock.

    Then he began to fuck.

    "I'm coming inside my assssssss!" the little girl screamed.


    It was several days later and Annabelle Cornfield realized that something very strange was happening to her. The experience she had had with Jonah had started something inside her.

    Something she could not control. She no longer wanted to masturbate or deny her desire for cock meat. She didn't desire Bernard anymore than she used to but – She wanted black cock meat. Ever since she felt Jonah's cock ramming into her tight pink, blonde twat, she had been able to think of nothing else.

    She realized that she had made a big mistake by arranging for Bernard to catch her in the torture chamber with Jonah. Her black lover was dead, and he had died such a gruesome death that the blonde woman didn't even want to think about it.

    She didn't want to think about her desire for black cock meat either, for that matter – but the blonde beauty could not help herself.

    It was as if her pussy were doing her thinking for her. She knew that she had to get it on with another of the slaves soon, and this time she was going to be more careful. This time she wasn't going to get caught.

    She decided that she was going to seduce one of the men who worked in the house rather than out in the fields. She knew these nigger boys better – and she felt she could trust them.

    Sure they were the same men who had been keeping the torture chamber a secret from her for years – but that just meant that they were following orders.

    If she told them to keep a secret from the master – that would obey her orders just as they had obeyed his. She was not going to go off half-cocked.

    This time she was going to think things through. She wanted to avoid – at all costs – another savage and bloody scene like the one in the torture chamber after Bernard had discovered Jonah humping away at her blissful cunt.

    Yes, the blonde woman thought it through, and she decided that the nigger boy she trusted most of all was Jones, the head butler at the mansion.

    Jones was a man in his forties who was beginning to turn white above his ears – but she knew he was plenty young enough to still be able to get it up.

    Not only did she know that Jones could get it up – but her feminine intuition told her that he knew what to do with his cock once it was standing at attention.

    Jones served the woman breakfast every morning. It was a Wednesday, the day Bernard went to Atlanta. She spent even longer than usual at her toilet, and came downstairs looking as pretty as a picture.

    Jones served up her poached eggs and she ran her hand over his ass as he was walking away from her. She saw him bristle. But he kept walking as if nothing had happened.

    When Jones returned to the diningroom Annabelle couldn't help but notice that the man had a bulge in his crotch – and a big bulge it was.

    Annabelle knew that it was true what they said about the nigger boys. They were all hung like horses. She could feel her mouth watering.

    "Would you come upstairs with me to my bedroom for a moment, Jones?" Annabelle said to the black butler, her seductiveness oozing from between her lips. Her voice was like liquid silk.

    "What use you got for me up there, Mrs. Cornfield?" Jones asked. He was horny but he was nervous. He had had to watch with his own eyes what had happened to Jonah – and he knew better than anyone that the lady of the house meant trouble through and through.

    "I have womanly needs and I think you know how to take care of them," she said. She winked at Jones, her blonde eyelashes flapping against her high rosy cheekbone.

    "You know that the master don't allow none of that, Mrs. Cornfield. You be getting the both of us in trouble with this kind of crazy talk," Jones said.

    "Let me put it this way. I order you to come up to my bedroom with me. If you say no I'm going to tell Mr. Cornfield that you tried to rape me, just like that other nigger boy. Now what was his name?"


    "That's right. You don't want to end up like him do you?" Annabelle said. She could feel the hot blood of her womanly horniness pumping into her pussy.

    "No, ma'am."

    "Good. Now Mr. Cornfield is in Atlanta. If you don't tell and I don't tell – then there's no way he can find out what you and I have been doing. Right?"

    "I guess so, ma'am."

    "Good boy. Now come with me. The sooner we get up there and start fooling around, the better I am going to like it," she said, anxiousness intrinsic in her vocal intonations.

    The second Jones and Annabelle were in her bedroom alone she shut the door behind them and locked it. She told Jones to stand by the foot of the bed.

    Then she did something that made the black man's eyes go wide. She dropped to her knees in front of him and began to undo his trousers.

    She pulled down his pants and his big black cock came flopping out. She puckered her lips and drew in cool air – producing a low whistling sound of unadulterated application.

    She could feel her mouth watering worse than before and she could feel the crotch of her panties getting wet from the juices her vaginal glands were secreting.

    Her clit was swollen.

    Her nipples were erect.

    They were both breathless.

    Annabelle began to kiss and lick and bite at the insides of the black man's thighs, working her way upward toward the base of his scrotal sack.

    She then parted her red lips and allowed her pink tongue to protrude. She made her taster pointy at the tip and began to lick his nuts.

    He shivered and she began to lave his testicles more enthusiastically. She used the flat part of her tongue and licked him until his scrotal sack was all wet and shiny.

    She sucked his balls.

    She pinned his cock to his belly with her fingertips and began to flick the tip of her tongue up and down the underside of his throbbing ebony pole.

    She ran the sides of her tongue all around his huge cock head. She flicked the tip of her tongue lightly and quickly back and forth across the swollen lips astride his opening and closing piss hole.

    Then she relaxed the muscles at the sides of her face and allowed her mouth to fall gaping open. She cupped his balls in one palm and gripped his cock shaft in the other.

    She took the head of his cock in her mouth. She gripped his dick meat just below the lower rim of his glans with her desperate lips.

    She hollowed her cheeks deeply as she created an intense, vacuum inside her hot, wet oral cavity. She began to suck his cock as hard as she could.

    The black man could feel his masculine horniness growing in leaps and bounds. He could tell that he was going to spurt come right into her mouth in a matter of seconds.

    He told her he was going to come.

    But she kept right on sucking.

    Then Jones understood.

    She wanted to taste his jism.

    His muscles stiffened and his back arched. His huge black hands, which were still down at his sides, were clenched into super-tight fists.

    His mouth fell open and his cock began to spasm. She pumped the shaft of his dick with her fist as his piss hole opened until it was gaping.

    He screamed with pleasure and his molten spunk spewed into her mouth. The beautiful blonde woman sucked down every drop as if he were the master and she were his slave.

    He relaxed when his come was over and Annabelle rather lazily licked his cock clean. She then stood up, kissed his cheek, and removed every stitch of her clothing.


    "Yes, ma am."

    "Eat my pussy."

    "Yes, ma'am."

    She got on her back on the bed, placing both of her feather pillows on top of one another. She spread her legs open for him. He crawled onto the bed on his belly.

    He kissed and licked and nibbled his way up the insides of her milky white thighs – and then he began to lap happily at her cunt with his huge tongue. She squealed with delight. She wished she had thought of this a long time ago!


    During the following few months, Annabelle Cornfield became extremely sexually active with the slaves.

    Indeed, the beautiful blonde woman was more sexually active than she had ever been before in her life…

    She decided that she wanted to find out everything there was to know about sex – and then some!!!

    The beautiful woman wanted to feel throbbing cock meat inside all three of her fuck holes. She couldn't get enough.

    Jones was delighted, but his sexual pleasure was always tainted by his fear – his fear of discovery.

    Jones knew – all too well – what would happen to him if Mr. Cornfield found out what he had been doing.

    Jones knew that Mrs. Cornfield would yell "rape" and that would be the end of his sexual career. Pronto! Jones knew that he and his massive set of cock and balls would part company forever at that point.

    On the other hand, the head butler at the Cornfield Estate knew he could never deny Annabelle her wants.

    He knew that he would have to fuck her every time she wanted to be fucked – and that was all there was to it.

    Annabelle would always remember the very first time she let Jones fuck her. It was, indeed, something to remember.

    She was in her bedroom late in the morning, still tending to her morning toilet, when she called for him.

    As usual, Jones was there promptly, already feeling an ache mounting in his huge, throbbing nigger balls.

    The woman could feel her pussy getting all wet and soupy. He had eaten her pussy like an expert several times.

    Jones had used his big pink tongue and his fat brown lips to give the woman the best orgasms she had ever known.

    She met him at the door, dressed in only the flimsiest nightgown. He nodded at the woman politely.

    Jones could see the buoyant globes of Annabelle's splendid breasts bobbing up and down inside the nightie.

    Jones could almost see her pinkness through that nightgown, and he could feel his ebony prick growing.

    The butler's thick cock was getting a little big longer all the time – and the woman approached him slowly.

    He could feel his pants getting tighter as she placed her hands lightly at the back of his strong neck.

    In a moment he had his strong arms around her slender waist, pulling the front of her body against him.

    The slave could feel her breasts flattening against his chest. He loved the way her throbbing nipples felt.

    Their lips were together – and then their tongues. He placed his hands flat on the small of her back.

    He slid his palms down to the cheeks of her ass, and then slowly, very slowly, down the backs of her thighs.

    He worked his hands under the hem of the nightgown and then back up underneath the silky nightie.

    He had his hands on her warm smooth white flesh, back up the backs of her thighs to her buttocks.

    He began to knead the flesh of her ass with strong hands and her cunt began to drool with juices.

    Her clit was ready to burst as they battled each other with their tongues. It was an internal battle.

    The kiss became extremely sloppy, as his mouth was a good deal larger than Annabelle Cornfield's mouth.

    Their lips were all slippery and rolled over one another smoothly by the end of their oral embrace. He pulled her nightgown all the way up over her head when the kiss was through. The woman touched his crotch.

    Her fingers worked eagerly and with great coordination as she unbuttoned the large black man's fly.

    Her fingers slipped into his fly and found his cock. It was a big black worm becoming increasingly stiffer.

    "Ummmmmmmmmm, I love the way your cock feel in my hand," Annabelle Cornfield said with a deep sigh.

    Jones shivered with delight. Soon she had his pants down as his cock was as big and hard as it could get.

    "Come to the bed with me now, Jones and stick your cock inside my pussy," Annabelle said. She sounded stern.

    This was not a request on her part. It was an order, a direct command from a mistress to a slave.

    She rolled onto her belly and then knelt up, lifting her ass up to Jones. He knelt at her milky white rear.

    She rested the side of her face on the bed and reached back with both of her dainty hands at the same time.

    She managed to tug her cunt lips and the cheeks of her ass open as far as they could go at the same time.

    The beautiful white woman could hear herself panting and moaning loudly as his cock head touched her cunt.

    Jones rubbed the tip of his prick up and down the slash very slowly and then found the tight opening.

    "You are so fucking big, and I can feel you filling me up, filling me to the brim!" Annabelle screamed.

    Jones said nothing. He pushed until the entire head of his cock was inside her – and then he kept pushing.

    The tip of his prick smacked against her cervix and then pushed against the back wall of her pussy.

    Annabelle Cornfield had to stretch to do it – but she finally managed to get the entire cock inside her.

    She could feel Jones' kinky pubic patch pressing against her asshole. His balls were on her clitoris.

    He began to fuck her and the friction quickly brought her to orgasm. Her pussy gushed with sweet fluid.

    He fucked her faster and faster and she came again and again. She felt as if she could not stop coming.

    The handsome black slave managed to make her come more often than she would have thought possible.

    The woman was almost embarrassed by the fuss she made and smiled at him shyly when it was over.

    In contrast to her bizarre screaming and bucking, Jones remained absolutely silent as he shot inside her.

    She did not kick him out right away. She went down on him. She sucked his cock. She licked his balls.

    She made him hard again in less than a quarter of an hour and again got on her hands and knees.

    He went to push his new erection back into her cunt, but she stopped him. She reached back to hold his pole.

    She guided the head to her anus.

    "Push! Push hard!" Annabelle Cornfield screamed, her need for brutal buggery practically overwhelming her!

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