Michelle and Akeema's Dark Journey

Michelle and Akeema’s Dark Journey Part 1

By Shabbadew2002

Contact me @ shabbadew@ca.rr.com

WARNING:This story starts off slow, but keep reading.  If you enjoy the sexual humiliation of women you will get off on this tale. It might also be described as “politically incorrect”.  It features the sexual abuse and degradation of black women.  The “N” word, and other offensive racial terms are used. This, in no way, reflects the values of the author who, in reality, disapproves of such language.  This is a fantasy and the use of such terms are employed solely to facilitate the tale.

Prologue

Michelle Jeffers was a very attractive 40 year old African-American woman.  Living in Little Rock, Arkansas she had a professional career as the Chief Administrator at St. Luke’s Children’s Hospital in that city. She had two children, a 23 year old daughter, Akeema, and a 15 year old son, Brian. 

Physically she was easy on the eyes: smooth, chocolate brown skin. Large brown eyes, prominent cheekbones, classic “negroid” features - small but flat nose, wide mouth and thick lips.  Her ears, however, though small, stuck out a bit (‘like a monkey’s’, she always said to herself).  Her black, shoulder length hair had been straightened and arranged in a professional style.  She had dimples in her cheeks. She was of medium height with a buxom 38D-30-41 figure.  There was some sag and jiggle after having had two children, of course, but she was shapely, and remarkably fit and toned.Along with large breasts, she hada big, black ‘booty’, but worked out regularly and it showed.

Moreover, as a black mother and professional woman in a publicly prominent role, Michelle was self-consciously well aware of setting an example and serving as a role model for own children as well as children served by the hospital, their mothers and the hospital staff.

But, for Michelle, it was more than that.  Much more.  In the fused focus on appearance and performance, self-disciplined diet and exercise, fitness and working out had become part and parcel of Michelle’s overall obsessive-compulsive preoccupation with what she viewed as the primary purpose of her life: looking and acting as the opposite of prevailing negative racial and sexual stereotypes in every way she could.

This had all seemed to come together for Michelle in the past several years, as her ascension to Chief Administrator at the hospital paralleled Barack and Michelle Obamas’ ascension to the White House.Alongwith so many other African-American women, Michelle felt pride that the ‘First Sister First Lady ‘looks like me,’ dark-skinned full-figured and all. 

Michelle hoped that her nerdy, biracial, light-skinned, reticent son would identify with and gain self-confidence from the nerdy, biracial, light-skinnedBarack. Ironically, however, her son demonstrated little interest and, when pressed,insisted that he supported McCain in the presidential  campaign.  While this increased the distance and tension between him and his sister and mother, it was during this time that Brian, in his last year of middle school, had become less socially isolated when he began tutoring older student athletes to help them get promoted to high school rather than held back in middle school. 

And now, two years later, as Brian’s tutoring carried over into high school, an academically lazy, but very popular group ofwhite jocks had begun to include Brian in their social circle. Michelle had mixed feelings about this.  On the one hand, Michelle had long worried about her son isolating himself in his room with his computer and video games, encouraging himto become social, and there was no doubt that associating with this popular group of white jocks, all seniors,bolstered her son’s self-esteem and boosted her his status in the nearly all white high school. 

It did bother her more than she liked to admit that her son associated only with white kids, like these jocks.  But that was probably to be expected with a son who looked white attending a nearly all-white school.  What disturbed her more was that they were older than her son, how much he looked up to them, and their motivation in adopting their younger and smaller tutor, in what amounted to their little “mutt mascot”.  Michelle felt guilty viewing her son and his relationship with the jocks that way, knowing how hurt he’d be to hear her say it.  But she didn’t want to see her son used and hurt either.

Michelle had fewer mixed feelings about what had happened with her daughter and their relationship.  Though they’d been both been busy and drifted apart somewhat since, there was no question that actively campaigning for Obama had brought them closer together.  While they looked and acted very much alike, beneath the surface, both were driven to prove themselves in ways that competitively and compulsively drove them apart.

Although the emotional distance between them increased with adolescence, some distance had always been there for Michelle, driven by the shame and guilt she felt about how Akeema was conceived:  rape.  Rape at age 16 by one of the low-life black thugs that Michelle’s crack-addicted mother always had hanging around.  This was, of course, the exact oppositeracially, of the family situation the Obamas represented.  Michelle had striven all her life to get above her past.

From her grandmother as well as from her own experience, Michele knew the importance of appearances, and how people always ‘judged books by their covers’, no matter how much they protested otherwise. Following what her grandmother preached, just as Akeema had learned from her, Michelle projectedand expressedherself by how she dressed.  ‘Dress for success.’  ‘Positive attitude, conservative attire.’  Clichéd mottos she’d heard from her grandmother and passed on to her daughter:  ‘Dress straight, sit straight, stand straight, talk straight, look ‘em straight in the eye,’ as her grandmother instructed.

Michelle always wore business suits with matching jackets and skirts in dark colors; rarely pants.  Skirts never too short or tight.  Even her lingerie was rather demure.  Basic colors again, mostly white and black, a few mauve and lavender.  She hated pantyhose though and liked to wear stockings when not going bare-legged.  Most of her panties were either white bikinis or white briefs.  She had learned how to be a lady from her grandmother.

Grandmother Helen had been perhaps the biggest influence on Michelle’s life.  A staunch Baptist, the old woman believed in her bible and family. A large woman physically, she was known as “Big Hela”.  Michelle was usually found close to her skirts as a child. When Michelle was a teen, her mother, Grace, had problems with men, drugs and drink, and eventually gave her to Big Hela to raise.

The old woman’s admonition to her granddaughter was always: keep your skirts down and be a good girl.  And Michelle, by and large, obeyed.  But her mother Grace was a bad seed and attracted the worst sort of men.  When Michelle was 16 she was raped by one of her mother’s“boyfriends”, got pregnant, and gave birth to Akeema.  Grandma stepped in and took care of them both. 

She made sure that Michelle kept her baby and got a high school diploma.  With Big Hela’s help, Michelle went on to ArkansasBaptist College, then transferred to the University of Arkansas where she graduated at the top of her class and got a master’s degree in health services.  After college, she married a lawyer named John Darbin Moore, twenty years her senior, and had a second child, Brian.

Everything, at this point, should have been great.  And for five years it was, for the most part.  However, never that close to begin with, as time went on, they drifted further apart.  By the time Michelle discovered that John was a philanderer, she wasn’t all that surprised. They’d met through their work at the hospital when a racially sensitive lawsuit over Medicaid fraud thrust both Michelle and John together respectively representing the hospital’s public image and the legal case. 

As they assumed racially progressive stances that proved effective in the boardroom and courtroom, it also proved seductive in the bedroom.  In fact, Brian was conceived the night the case was won after Michelle’s testimony under John’s skillful questioning, as a drink-fueled, joyful celebration thatled to a late-night mating more lustful than anything they ever achieved afterwards. 

Once they had come together to win the case for the hospital, and, as it turned out, to make Brian too, there wasn’t much there for them.  John was politically conservative former college football star who had never been all that receptive to women or minorities and she was the black girl who’d always envied the popular cheerleaders who got the good looking jocks.  It just took five years to realize the mistake.  Either or both of them might have discovered it sooner if Michelle had had more interest in sex with her husband and he had less interest in chasing other women.

Although he’d never been very affectionate with his son, left by the time he’d entered kindergarten and remained aloof since, Michelle’s husband did grow closer to his stepdaughter, Akeema as she turned from tween to teen.  In fact, as much as Michelle loathed to even think about it, then or later, when they divorced, being jealous and suspicious of the affection and intimacy between her 13-year-old daughter and her husband was a more powerful and shameful factor in wanting a divorce than her husband’s interest in chasing young, white women at work and in clubs.

Still, with financial assistance from John to supplement her academic and athletic scholarships, Akeemagraduated from his alma mater, the University of Arkansas, like her Mom, and later got an advanced degree from the University of North Carolina. She lived in a rented townhome in Chenal Valley while Michelle and Brian lived in the Heights area, an upper middle-class white neighborhood in a house Michelle inherited from the divorce.

Akeema had copied her mother’s workaholic style and had become somewhat of an overachiever.  Michelle was justifiably proud of her, even though they were not close.  Her son, Brian, was another issue entirely.  He took after his father, both in physical appearance and values.  He seemed to be ‘white’, in every respect, including a presumption of privilege and entitlement, provoking grudges and resentment from his older half-sister. 

As aggravating as she found it, Michelle was more forgiving of her son’s attitude and behavior.  She knew that much of it was a cover for the insecurities he felt as a biracial boy growing up with a strong, stern, workaholic black mother, and a darker, older sister who took after their mother, with a high-status but remote white father who seemed to take more interest in Brian’s ‘black-bastard half-sister, not even a real stepdaughter,’ as Brian had scornfully scoffed more than a few times, than his own son.

Recently, Brian had gotten into a huge fight with Mom over whether or not he should spend so much time playing video games.  The 15 year old had rebelliously defied his mother in front of a friend, and Michelle had been humiliated and wounded by the incident.  Michelle worried about him.

Chapter 1 

The Emails

That fateful Thursday, Michelle’s jaw dropped as she stared at the computer screen.  She had gotten to the office early. But midway through the grunt work, she got an email that blew her mind. The subject line said; ‘Is this you?’ Pasted into the email and attached was a revealing photo of her.  It showed her sitting on a loveseat in a bedroom wearing just her bra and panties. 

Michelle recognized it immediately.  It was one of a series of photos her ex, John, had taken of her a year after they were married. She was perhaps twenty-four at the time.  She sat dumfounded...wondering. The email had no real information as to who sent it.  She ran a check to identify the IP and and it came up blank.

‘Who sent it?’ she wondered. She couldn’t wait to get home and check to see if the photos were still there.  She hadn’t looked at those pictures in years.  It hadn’t been her idea to take the photos.  John had insisted, telling her she needed to ‘relax and loosen up’ about her body and sex.  He persisted in repeatedly prodding her until, after a few drinks one night, she eventually gave in.  He started with taking pictures of her in her bra and panties and then made her take them off. 

The last shot had her lying on her back holding her breasts upwith her legs open showing her hairy crotch.She’d felt uncomfortable and ashamed about them at the time, and, for the same reason, had put them out of her mind since then. She sighed, took a sip of her coffee and went to the mirror to check her appearance before she left for a staff meeting. When Michelle got back from the meeting, there was another email. This timethe pictures showed her totally nude in an increasingly obscene pose. The image leering at her from the monitor made her heart race. She felt sick...‘Oh God, who’s doing this?’ she wondered.

Whoever was doing it was sadistic.  The last email featured Michelle on her back, holding her breastswith her legs spread in the full sexually open position, looking for all the world like a slut. She felt sick.

These were the type of pictures that would have scandalized her grandmother. Michelle could almost hear the old woman chiding her for having participated in such a lewd thing.  Thinking about the emails, she wondered, ‘What do they want? Who sent them?’  She knew she must get back to work, so she stashed the email in a folder she named, ‘private.’

As the chief administrator at St. Luke’s Children’s Hospital, her duties included managing staff, setting budgets, hiring doctors and even fund-raising. Today she was working with her staff to coordinate a fund-raising event for that very weekend. Her position demanded that she maintain a high level of professional decorum.  Having any of those pictures on the Internet frightened Michelle half to death. She put the worrisome email behind her and went back to work.

At six, she left the office in a rush. She had to get home and see if the originalphotos were still there.  She wasn’t sure where she’d hid them, but she thought they were in a box hidden in her lingerie drawer.  When she got home, Brian, her son was playing games in his room.  She rushed to her bedroom and fetched the box from the back of her lingerie drawer, underneath her underwear, where she thought it would be.  She rummaged through the contentsand found the photos in an envelope. 

Her relief at finding the photos lasted a brief moment until her torment returned.  Finding the original photos didn’t change receiving them, or copies of them, from someone by email.  She felt stupid.  Stupid about keeping them instead of destroying them long ago.  Stupider about thinking she could keep them hidden in her lingerie drawer, of all places.  Stupider still about investing any hope about them still being where she’d thought she’d hidden them. 

Here they were, and what did it matter?  Someone must have been in her room, in her lingerie drawer, discovered them, copied them and emailed her.  But who?  The sheer thought of it, wondering who, made her shiver and cringe with creepy, queasy feelings. Except for very occasional, brief visits by her daughter, who else was in the house other than her and her son, his best friend, Jonathan, andhis newfound ‘friends.’

The more she thought about it, the worse she felt.  She dreaded not finding out who was sending the emails and them sending them to others, ruining her.  She dreaded finding out it was her son.  Her son!Why would he do such a thing to his own mother?  It was too despicable.  Unthinkable really. 

The thought of him even seeing the pictures was so shameful and embarrassing it was nearly unbearable, which immediately made her feel guilty, angry and disgusted with herself for not destroying the pictures long ago, and instead leaving them in her lingerie drawer.  Some hiding place!  She shuddered to think about it now, but wasn’t it natural for boys to be curious, especially going through puberty and adolescence?  And wouldn’t a lingerie drawer be a prime target of adolescent curiosity?

She felt stupid, angry and disgusted with herself all over again.  But she couldn’t let herself just get stuck there.  Beating herself up over it was pointless.  It accomplished nothing. Even if it wasn’t her son, she pushed onward, it could be any friends he had over, which, except for Jonathan, were very few and far between until his recent ‘friendship’ with the jocks.  How would they snoop around and find the pictures without her son knowing?  And, even if that happened, knowing teenage boys, how long would it be before they would be showing the photos to her son, or he found out from someone else and saw the pictures anyway?

She was back to the mortifying thought of her son seeing the pictures, who knows how and who else.  She was driving herself crazy going in circles with questions, speculation and self-recrimination.  She was stalling, avoiding what she was dreading but knew she had to do.  In a grim, gut-churning march, she went to her son’s bedroom and, after a pause and deep breath, knocked on the door.

He told her to come in.  Sitting on his bed facing the door, he raised his head and then his eyes from his laptop.  She asked him if he or any of his friends had been in her room.  Brian looked at her blankly, and said, ‘no’.  She turned away and wondered whether he was telling her the truth.  She turned back to ask if he was sure, then blushed, turned away again and rushed out the door when she saw her son’s gaze languidly lingering on her butt, then rise to lewdly stare at her breasts.

Michelle went to bed without eating, and stayed there restlessly tossing and turning without sleeping.  She couldn’t stop her head from spinning.  While her son’s verbal reaction had been anticlimactic, his visual reaction left her feeling both frantic and pathetic.  Whatever one was supposed to be able to read from a person’s eyes, when she asked whether he or his friends had been in her room, she found the blank look her son gave her when he said ‘no’ to be both inscrutable and unreliable.  And, when she’d turned back to see her son leering at her ‘tits and ass,’ to call it as crass and obscene as it was, she both knew and didn’t know what that meant. 

Her son’s gaze was definitely sexually objectifying.  As mortifying as that might be to endure for the demure black mother, that, at least, required no clarifying whatsoever.  More mortifying, even horrifying, was whether that sexually objectifying leer from her son was a consequence of having seen her lewdly displaying herself in the photos, or—still mortifying, but less horrifying—simply the consequence of prurience and vulgar impudence typical of male adolescence. 

She thought about the way her son’s eyes lingered on her butt just as they had lingered on the screen of his laptop when she first entered his room and wondered whether he’d been looking at the photos of her right then.

The more she ruminated about it, the more humiliated, exasperated and infuriated she became.  All of which was recycled and escalated again when, twice even, as she’d gotten up to go to the bathroom, she caught herself looking in the mirror at what she’d caught her son gawking at, but then covered only by her sleepwear of bra, panties and T-shirt.

‘What the hell was she doing, what was wrong with her?’ she mercilessly interrogated herself again and again, as if she needed anything more to be humiliated, exasperated and infuriated about.  However, looking at herself in the mirror, resisting the urge to take off her bra for another look, she remembered why she’d kept the photos:  to have pictures of herself, her body, before the sagging, wrinkling wreckage of middle and old age.

She remembered feeling both flustered and flattered when she’d caught her son’s newfound ‘friends,’ the popular white jocks, looking at her the same way her son just had, and briefly wondered if she should consider her son’s prurient leering flattering…Which immediately precipitated another round of humiliated, infuriated self-battering.  By the time the sun rose and she dragged herself out of bed she felt not only groggy from lack of sleep, but punch drunk from the slugfest of self-disgust she’d been inflicting on herself.

The next day at the office, a Friday, Michelle sat there and bit her lip, thinking about her predicament.  She poured a cup of coffee and some no-fat milk, stirred and stared at the brew in the cup, which had started black and so quickly and easily acquired a creamy mocha cast.  It made her think about her and daughter, her son and his father, their skin colors, mixing that was anything but quick and easy.  She had much more immediate, serious issues to think about, so, why in the world was she thinking about this? 

‘Stupid’,she muttered to herself.  She had deep-seated issues about being somewhat dark-skinned.  Feelings she should have put to rest or at least gained some closure on continued to plague her and, even now, clog her mind when she had much more pressing matters to worry about. A very attractive woman, she drew admiring glances throughout the day, but tended to be oblivious to all but the most obvious of them.

She tucked her straightened hair, strands of which had fallen forward, back behind her right ear, and scrolled down to read some stray bit of information.   The problem was that she was very distracted by the emails, and just stuck there, at the point of perpetual, pointless distractionand endless dread, without being able to address whoever was sending them for whatever reasons, and whoever might see them with whatever dire consequences.

Over at the high school parking lot, Lloyd Bennett lounged with his pals,Ryan Roselle, Harold Watson and Dwight Mitchell.  All of them were high school seniors.  Everyone except Dwight were “latchkey” kids - the products of broken homes.  Ryan lived with his mother and his sister. Lloyd lived with his father, a policeman, and Harold lived with his mother, Darlene. 

They swigged from soft drink cans.  Two of them were coming off spring track practice. As they laughed and joked, it was apparent that they thought of themselves as ‘masters of the universe’.  They were joined by their new mascot, Brian. Only a sophomore, he looked up to the four.  Ever since they’d ‘adopted’ him his status at school had risen to heights he’d only imagined in his fantasies.

“Hey nipper, how’s it goin’ man,” Lloyd said to him as he joined the group.  Brian had been given the nickname, ‘nipper’; Lloyd was ‘chief’; Ryan was ‘face’; Dwight was ‘oak’; and Harold was ‘chubs’, because of his fat physique.

Ryan was the biggest...a star on the football team, a muscular 225lb. linebacker, but lanky Lloyd with whipcord muscles and the speed of a rattlesnake, was the real leader of the group.  He had opinions about everything; and his quick wits and feral nature insured his status as the ‘boss’.  Ryan was the good looking ‘star’, but Lloyd was the real ‘alpha’ male. 

“How you doin’ my man,” Ryan asked Brian. “Your Mom still ragging on you.”

“Aw...she’s ‘OK’,” he answered. “She’s always jumping on me about sumptin’.”

“Yeah, my Mom never stops griping about me cleanin’ my room,” said Harold.

And so it went.  The boys just hanging out and shootin’ the shit. Actually, Lloyd was the one who had pilfered the pictures of Michelle when he and his posse were over at the Jeffers’ house.  While the others played video games in Brian’s room, Lloyd snuck into Michelle’s room and rummaged through her drawers.  When he found the photos he took them, scanned them and returned them to the envelope where he’d found them.

His plan was to share them with his pals and have a few laughs.  What took his stunt to a whole new level was that Roy, his father, found them on his phone.  Being a detective, he was in the habit of checking out his son’s cell phone.  When he found the pictures, he let out a long whistle.  He wondered who the attractive black woman was. The pictures didn’t look professional. They were definitely amateur snapshots. He questioned the boy.

“Where’d you get the pictures of that middle-aged black bitch...the ones on your phone,” he asked?

“Hey, Pop, you’re always snoopin’ around my computer and my phone...”

“Yeah.  I gotta keep an eye on you. Gotta make sure you’re not getting’ into shit.  So, where’d you get those?  Who is she?”

Lloyd fessed up and told his father the whole story. 

“This...the boy who looks white...this his mother?”

“Yeah.”

“What were you gonna do with ‘em?”

“Aw, we wuz just gonna have a few laughs, Pop.”

“Gimme your phone.”

Roy opened his phone and went to his photos.

“Well, we’re just gonna send these to me.  And then we’re gonna delete ‘em on your phone,” Roy drawled.

“Aw, Pop, I wasn’t gonna do anything wrong. It was just for grins...”

“That’s alright.  That’ll be the end of it.”

Roy went to his lap top, and opened his in-box.  He stared at the pictures. ‘Nice lookin’ bitch’, he muttered to himself.

An avowed racist, Roy had a basic, but no longer simple hatred of blacks. And, ironically, the more politically incorrect it had become to openly express or act on his racism, particularly in crime investigation and law enforcement, and the more he had to pull himself back and reel himself in, the more tightly wound, twisted and angrily entangled hisrepressed racism had become.

Roy hated blacks, but it did not just start and stop there.  He hated black males—both the athletes he used to compete againstandthe thugs he took down as a cop—but also grudging admired and even envied them for real and imagined physical and sexual prowess and, shit, the sheer balls so many of them showed.

He hated black females too, all the big-ass-big-mouth bitches, gold-digging sluts and hoes, aggressive in ways that begged for the beatings he saw so many of them getting.    But regardless of how repulsive he told himself they were, he found them attractive and seductive too, in what he thought of as primitive, savage, animalistic ways, always in heat, just oozing sex, giving him “jungle fever”that would jangle his nerves andnot go away.

And that’s the genesis of how his plan emerged and evolved. It was, more of an impulsive then increasingly compulsive urge than a plan, really, when he decided to blackmail Michelle.  He wasn’t sure at first what he would make her do, but the more he thought about it, the more obsessive he became about making the 40 year old mother his sex slave.The obsession began to build as soon as he found out that the black woman in the photos was not only the mother of that nerdy near-white mutt who’d been tutoring his son, but was named Michelle. 

The same name and skin color as that black bitch, amazon lawyer in the White House, wife of the arrogant, mongrel law professor who’d somehow become president… The first biracialpresident, the moniker of the “first black president” having already gone to Bill Clinton.  Roy had grown up watching ‘Bubba’ Bill Clinton and his cunt feminist wife go from the governor’s mansion to the White House. 

And to watch Obama battle Hillary, beat her and McCain, and then select her as Secretary of State had been almost too much to bear. But now, with Hillary still growling about the rights of women on a global level, and the Obamas in the White House, there was something not simply ironic but almost poetic about turning homegirl Michelle into a black slave, a black sex slave.  Being an angry redneck and Arkansas cop in the homestate of the Clintons during “the culture wars” was one thing, but this just took everything to a whole new level.  It had been a heady stuff, a real rush when he called into talk radio shows, but this… this?

Just trying to wrap his head around it gave him a hard on that wouldn’t go away.

Roy was a take-no-prisoners police officer.  A 14-year uniformed veteran of the Little Rock police department, he had been sited for bravery on a number of incidents and written up for “excessive force” more than once.  A former high school athlete himself, he had “gone to seed” and now was some forty pounds heavier – too many donuts! What he didn’t like about what he’d become turned his attention and increased his devotion to his only son, Lloyd.

He started the boy hunting and fishing when he was only seven.  His own wife, Lloyd’s mother, had run off; so he had been able to gain custody of his son.  He was hard on the boy, but basically Lloyd respected and feared his dad. His marriage to Lloyd’s mother, Anne, had deteriorated not long after the boy was born. 

A pretty blonde, she was no fan of his abusive ways, and left Roy for her dentist.  Roy, who felt that women fell into two categories: whore and Madonna, took every opportunity to demonize his ex as a slut.  He was always preaching to Lloyd about sluts and ‘nigger gutter sluts’.  Only women like his own sainted mother were exempt. 

“Remember Lloyd, most women, if given half the chance, will show you they’re sluts,” is how he put it to his son on more than one occasion.

So, Roy, seeing an opportunity in hand, decided to see if he could turn Michelle Jeffers into his personal slut.  He had some elaborate fantasies about what he could do with her.  Fantasies as twisted and entangled as his repressed angry racism and sexism and the ugly, sick shit he’d seen over the years as a cop.  His ex-wife and any other self-respecting woman, at least white woman he thought, wouldn’t put up with that shit, but the Jeffers bitch would be his to do with as he chose.

But first, he had to size her up.  So, after he’d pulled up the email with  the photos in his inbox, he made sure he went to Lloyd’s room to delete the scans on his son’s computer. Then he loaded the pictures on a disposable cell phone he’d confiscated from a kid and never turned in to Property, got Michelle’s work email address and sent them to her.  This would soften her up.  The next day, he went to the hospital at the close of day.

When Michelle went to her BMW at 6pm in the parking lot, Roy came over to her...looking serious.

“Ms. Jeffers, hi, I’m Detective Bennett.”

“Yes, detective, what can I do for you?”

“I confiscated this phone.  It has some pictures on it I thought you should see,” he said as he pulled out the disposable cell phone.

He opened it and began scrolling down.

“Lookit this,” he said.

Michelle’s heart sank as she stared at the pictures of her in the nude.

“Oh, my God,” she said. “Where did you get these?”

“I’m not at liberty to say. But this is you, is it not?”

“OH GOD, yes, I’m sorry to say.”

“These would be classified as indecent in almost any jurisdiction,” he said.

Michelle was embarrassed and humiliated, but having to agree that the photos were indecent made her feel guilty and ashamed about them too.  It was obvious that he had seen each and every one of them and that he knew what she looked like in her birthday suit.  He kept the phone open and Michelle felt sick.

“These photos may have been sent out over the net,” he intoned.

“Someone emailed them to me yesterday,” she said.

“I see,” he said. “Do you know who?”

“NO...What can I do?” she asked, stricken.

“Who took the original photos Ma’am?”

“Oh...my husband...my ex-husband, actually. A few years ago.”

“Kind of lewd and explicit, aren’t they?” he asked, a smirk curling and grooving its way through the crags and crevices of his face.

“Well...I...I guess so.  We were married at the time.”

“Were you and your husband ‘swingers’?”

“GOOD LORD, NO...no...definitely not!”

“I see.”

Michelle felt sick. Having this man questioning her as if she was a criminal and virtually some kind of slut or whore…and knowing that he (and others!) had seen her naked and exposed was horrifying.  She felt like she’d lost all respect and could never get it back, even if she deserved to, which she wasn’t sure she did, however long it might take, if she could endure it.

“We’ve got to keep this type of filth from getting into the hands of children, you understand.  This individual may send these photos to your family or people you work with.  It may just be a prank or it may be blackmail,” he said solemnly.

“Blackmail? Really? Oh, God, NO...”

With no explicit threat expressed in the emails carrying the photos, she’d shoved aside fearful thoughts of potential blackmail.  But now that this cop had spoken of the possibility out loud, the bleak, abstract prospect of blackmail acquired an alarming reality.

“I’m on top of it. In the meantime, I’ve got to keep the phone and the photos as evidence.  Where are the originals? Do you have them?”

“Uh...Y...yes.”

“Hmmm...I may need them.”

“I...I...I see.”

“I’ll be in touch.”

With that, he left.  He had learned what he came to find out.  She was a nice, respectable lady who was easily intimidated.  And ashamed by the pictures.  Not what you’d expect from your typical nigger bitch.  She was also very hot, now that he had seen her in person.  He decided to press forward with his plan.  

Michelle felt humiliated and ashamed.  Her most private pictures that she was stupid enough to let her husband take in the first place, and then keep around in her lingerie drawer years after their divorce, were now in the public realm.  She wondered who may be looking at her naked, what would happen, whether she’d be threatened, blackmailed by whoever to do whatever…knowing that whoever and whatever, it was all her own fault.

That next morning, Brian, wanting to be cool and part of the posse, had agreed to having his new jock friends come over to the house.  At 9am all four boys showed up.  Michelle was in her study, trying to concentrate on something other than her nude pictures.Just the thought of her son or the other boys seeing those pictures was enough to keep her sequestered in her room.

Before long, the guys were sucking down sodas and playing the cool games that Brian had in his room.  She could hear the boys...pretty raucous in Brian’s bedroom.

At 11am, Roy Bennett showed up at the house.

“Ms. Jeffers, I need to speak with you,” he said when she answered the door. 

“Yes, of course,” she said.

“OK, let’s go into my study.”  Michelle guided him to the small bedroom on the 1st floor that she’d fixed up as a small study for herself.

“What have you found out,” she asked?

As she asked this, he turned and closed the door.

“I’ll need to confiscate the original pictures,” he said evenly.

“You do?” she gulped...

“Yeah, I need them for evidence.  You see this phone,” he said holding up the disposable cell phone. “This is a throwaway phone I showed you yesterday.  It has all those explicit pictures of you.”

Michelle stared at the phone.  “Yes...”

“I found it’s been set up so if you hit this button your son will get a surprise email. And it’s got the emails of the board of directors at the hospital...where you work.  And your minister’s email address too.  The emails have all twelve pictures attached.  Please get the originals.”

“Wha...I don’t...” Michelle looked around like she was expecting the cavalry to rescue her.

“Ma’am, you wouldn’t want your son to see these, would you?”

“NO...no...I...I’ll get the pictures.”

Michelle went to her bedroom and got the photos.  She felt like she was handling atime bomb…or the debris of a blown-up life. She tucked the envelope containing them in her purse and went back to the study. She knew just one thing: she didn’t want Brian to see her that WAY!

“Here, they are,” she said as she handed him the envelope.

Roy sadistically went through them all...one-by-one.  Michelle began sweating.  She was so humiliated as he was studying them all over again.

“Are there any others?”

“N...no.”

“Ok...get your coat and we’ll go.”

“W-w-where w-would we be g-g-going?”

Michelle couldn’t form her thoughts or words clearly.

“I think I can clear this up.  We’ll just need to take a little ride.”

‘Did he just say that he thought he could clear things up?’ Michelle almost asked him out loud, but kept her mouth shut and tried not to let her hopes from unrealistically, frantically soaring out of sheer desperation.  But he was a policeman, and she assumed that they were going to the police station…and with all their knowledge and resources, maybe, just maybe…

She called out and told her son she had to run another errand.  Without any of the boys knowing Roy Bennett had even been there,he went outside, waited in his car until Michelle joined him and drove off.

Michelle sat there in the passenger seat. The thought that Brian would see her that way...or that whoever was behind this would send the photos to her boss or her minister sent her into a panic.

Roy drove her to his house in East End, about 10 miles south of Little Rock.  They entered the driveway.  Michelle had a handkerchief in her hand and with sweaty palms she found herself twisting it.  They had hardly talked on the drive.

“Where are we,” she asked nervously?  “I thought we were going downtown.”

“I got sumptin’ to show ya,” he said.

Chapter 2

Roy

So, began the first of Michelle’s many humiliating ordeals.  Roy was a bigot who believed, despite the science, that evolution was wrong about the races and that whites were infinitely superior to blacks.

When it came to African-Americans, Michelle was a classic affirmative action era liberal.  She believed that the experience of cultural deprivation that began with slavery had “imprinted” blacks. She believed that blacks were equal to whites by any measurement or standard but the experiences of being a subservient people had given them a “slave mentality”.  In her own way, she was trying to overcome such thinking herself.

She had used education to pull herself up the class ladder, but Michelle was also often attracted to white men; especially if they were nice and fair minded. Sensitive, intellectually courageous and slim were the qualities to which she was consciously most attracted.  But, having grown up around rednecks,she’d often felt…well, she wasn’t sure.  They stirred such strong, mixed feelings in her that, as soon as she found them swelling up, she stopped dwelling on them and stuffed them away.  As repulsive as she told herself they were, she also had a compulsive attraction to them. 

Compared to elusive but insidious institutional racism, outright, upfront bigotry had clarity and something like integrity to it.  Moreover, whatever the insecurity and hostility was behind it, and however vile their views, redneck men had a almost primitive virility that Michelle found attractive on a primal, equally primitive, visceral level. 

And, with their historic role from slavery through the Klan, Jim Crow and the Civil Rights Movement—with white cops in Arkansas doing anything but their duty to ‘protect and serve’ blacks—white male cops like Roy brought all these issues to the surface for Michelle.  Sometimes she attracted racist brutes who were turned-on, as some white men throughout the slavery era had been, by big-assed, black females – like her!

Roy’s mind was aflame ever since he confiscated the pictures from his son.  He was a sadist who had, on more than one occasion, grabbed a black bitch by her straightened hair, yanked her head around, forced her to her knees and got her to suck his cock.  Preferably after giving her a good “coon” whipping on her big, black, “bubble-butt” with his belt or even better, an Arkansas prison strap.

Roy Bennett was hairy with a paunch...just the sort of loud, white braggart who had been a star in high school and had “gone to seed”.  The sort of man haunted Michelle’s nightmares.  He had grown up hunting and still enjoyed taking game with a gun.  It was this hobby that kept in close comradeship with his son. 

He regularly hunted feral hogs and raised American Bulldogs for that purpose.  He had a kennel full of Johnson strain dogs out behind the house.  It was against this backdrop that Michelle, at his urging, entered the Bennett living room. There was no one home. 

“Well, we’re here,” Roy said turning his full attention to Michelle. 

“Well, what is this place,” she asked?

Michelle felt both fear and anger.  Lloyd was unfazed.  He had a small smile playing on his lips. 

“Actually, it’s pretty simple.  This is my place.”

“Why are we here,” she said becoming more nervous by the second. He held up the phone.  

“I got this here phone with all these dirty pictures, and the originals,” he said, and held up the envelope.

“Now, if you want them...you take off your clothes and suck my cock.”

Michelle found herself unconsciously clutching her stomach.  She felt physically sick.

“W...w...what.....what in God’s name is wrong with you?” she managed to croak.

“Unless you want everybody to see your naked black ass,” he said as he held up the phone, “we’re gonna have a special session – today. Just the two of us...”

“You can’t be serious,” Michelle asked, her eyes widening in fear?

“Absolutely...FIRST...take off your clothes.”

“WHAT....ARE YOU CRAZY?”

“No...I’m not. But, if you don’t, your son gets to see your dirty pictures.  Then...your daughter...I have her email address in here too. Your friends’ emails...Then the minister at your church; and all the board members at the hospital.  It’s your choice.”

“You wouldn’t dare.”

“Why fuckin’ not? Imagine the impact on your job, if everyone can see your ass...Your head honcho job will head straight for the fuckin’ toilet.  SO YOU SEE, SWEET CHEEKS...YOUR OPTIONS ARE FUCKING LIMITED!”

Michelle felt her head about to explode.  She kept shaking her head, hoping that it would all go away....and that she could think clearly.  She felt like she’d been punched in the stomach.  In all her darkest ruminations about the boorish, bullying, obnoxious white men in this world, she never imagined that that a cop in this day and age could or would actually do something like this...It was completely vile.

She looked over at Roy, now sipping from a glass.  He looked positively smug and amused.

“If I do it, will you keep the pictures private?”

“Like I said, FIRST, get your clothes off.”

Michelle groaned.  Though he’d seen her naked in pictures, getting naked in front of him now was something else.  Her mind was reeling with what she would have to do, when she was naked. Since she’d been raped, molested and masturbated to orgasm as a teenager by her mother’s boyfriend, Michelle had never been comfortable with sex, and had not experienced an orgasm, or even masturbated in the years before, during or since her marriage.  But now she had no choice. 

Michelle stood up on wobbly legs.  She put down her purse, which she had been clutching tightly, on the coffee table between them.  She reached down to take hold of the hem of her blouse to pull it up and then off, but try as she might, she couldn’t.  She just froze.  She dropped her hands by her sides and just stood there.

“Well, bitch...come on ...get busy,” Roy ordered her.

“I...I...I...just...can’t,” she stuttered.

He was quick to react.  He was over six feet tall and weighed 220lbs. but was loaded with fast-twitch muscle.  He sprang up like a cat, and grabbed Michelle by her hair.  He reached back (Michelle saw his hand coming...but it seemed to her that she was watching his hand and herself in a movie) and slapped her hard across the face.

“You need some trainin’ darling.  And the first lesson is always the hardest,” he joked.

Michelle was so stunned she couldn’t say anything.  So, he slapped her again using the back of his and followed it up with another fore hand blow making her head twist right and then left again.  This seemed to jar Michelle into life and she began struggling and clawing at him. She had been raped once before in her life and she was wired to fight back.

Guttural sounds came out of her mouth as she became a wildcat.  But Roy towered over her and just held her at bay and then he did something that so shocked Michelle she was overwhelmed by the ‘idea’ of it as much as the physical blow.  He punched her in the stomach. 

The impact stunned her, and within a second he turned her around, pushed her back against the fireplace mantel and slammed his fist rudely in her proud belly again. Warm and soft, Michelle swallowed the punch, and he felt her breath rush out her nostrils and mouth. The look in her eyes turned from wild fear and surprise to intense pain.  Before she could even mentally react to these punches, he put another one in her, quick and hard and deep. Incongruously, he was smiling at her the whole time.

Like lightning, he snatched her straightened, thick, black hair in bulk, and pulled up as she started to sag.  He yanked hard, and she staggered and writhed around on the end of his outstretched arm, then he sadistically reeled her in to where the next punch buried itself in her stomach.  He slammed it into her deep; driving her navel towards her backbone, lifting her clear out of one shoe and almost out of the other. Then he let her sag to her knees. 

He went over and, in one gulp, swallowed the rest of his drink.  Michelle dropped into a gasping, sputtering stupor on her hands and knees.  She tried to stand up.  Little moans and whimpers stirred in her throat.  He kept looking back at her to see what she was doing.  Her head was still hanging down.  Her dark eyes opened slowly.  She was coming to the awful awareness that this was no simple beating, but something powerfully sexual. And the ache in her belly would tell her this man was like nothing she had encountered in more than twenty years.

He watched her black eyes filling with pain and fear. He knew her earlier confidence had fled. In its place, he could see something else now. A glimmer of a grim understanding that he was something that would envelop her with his power.

In her eyes he could see defeat and dread.  He knew in the next hour he would begin to teach her who and what she really was…a “nigger gutter slut”.That she had been acting for too many years like an “uppity nigger”.  That all the diplomas in the world would not change what she was in body and soul.

He would subject her to his own brand of discipline and in the process debase, abuse, disgrace anddegrade her beyond anything she could imagine.  He knew, in his bones, that she would come to understand possession and submission.

Having violently dominated and devastated her through brute physical force, he abruptly changed tactics and more gently humiliated and manipulated her.  Having rapidly reduced her to a hopeless, helpless state, following the traditions of generations of white men before him with blacks and women, he addressed the hapless, middle-aged mother and professional woman as a parent would address a dim-witted, reluctant or recalcitrant child.

“Get up now and be a good girl,” he grinned at her.

He came over and reached down and put his right hand in her left armpit and with his other hand he told hold of her thick hair again.

“Upsy daisy,” he teased her as he pulled her to her feet.

He pulled her blouse down to expose her tits in her bra. Then he reached down and pulled up her skirt to expose her panties.  He was pleased to see that she wore no pantyhose or stockings.  Michelle’s hands went down to try and cover herself, but he almost playfully swatted them away. 

“No...no...no...little girl,” he crooned at her.

He pulled down her panties to her knees. Then he pushed her forward.

“Walk around, stupid,” he said to her grinning.

Michelle, in a trance, began to shuffle forward.  He pointed and told her where to walk, admonishing her not to let her panties fall to the floor and get dirty.  All she could do was waddle awkwardly, knees spread, frog-legged…or like a bow-legged toddler who’d wet itself. It was hugely embarrassing.  Michelle, coming to her senses after being put into a shock by the belly punches, now began to feel something else.  It was like she was falling...falling...falling...down...down...deep...into some sort of black hole or well. 

The feeling of being shamed was seeping into her bones and it was a feeling she had pushed back in her consciousness for more than twenty years.  A shiver went up her spine as the impact of these feelings began to work their way through her being. 

“Oh God...no...no...please God...no,” she began whimpering. 

Roy ignored this. Even without knowing her personal history, he knew he was taking her on a journey that would be traumatic.  He was prepared...in fact...he was licking his lips as he got ready to enjoy it. He had whipped out his phone and took some photos of Michelle stumbling around, half-naked.

Roy found the prospect of “training” Michelle one that made his cock stiffen and his balls throb. Now, he had her just where he wanted her.  He kept making her waddle and shuffle around like a stupid child.

“Now that I see ‘em, you got fat, floppy tits like a whore, Michelle,” he taunted her.

He eyeballed her fat tits capped with very dark brown nipples and sizeable aureoles and as he ogled her, Michelle found tears coming to her eyes.  She felt like a butterfly pinned to a board under the microscope of a sick, cruel scientist. 

“Pull your fat tits out of your bra....completely,” he instructed her.She did as she was told.

He began to pull her around by her nipples.  Michelle was hampered with her bra binding her upper arms, and her panties hobbled her, stretched between her knees.  He forced her to pull her panties back up into her crotch and humiliatingly made her hump them while he tugged on her nipples and towed her around the coffee table like a pull toy. She was shocked and ashamed to feel the tingling sogginess between her legs.She looked up at his face and shivered.  He used his paw to give her a few swats on her big booty. 

And Michelle had a fine, black girl’s big ass.  Two big loaves of muscle and fat that just begged for Roy to beat them.  She was hairy between her legs... and now that she was in ‘beaten child’ mode, she was just about the sexiest thing he’d ever seen.

“Now, take off your panties and give them to me,” he said.

Michelle groaned softly.  She was already so exposed and ashamed.  She glanced down and then at him.  She saw he would hit her again.  And smile and laugh about it at the same time.  She hooked her thumbs into the waistband of her white cotton briefs and pushed them further down to her ankles. Then she took them off and handed them to him.  He had his hand out...He took them from her and began examining them. 

“Not very crusty.  Perhaps you need more foreplay,” he laughed.

Michelle winced at the joke.  She had been more frightened, but she did feel some thickening and swelling feelings in her loins that had made her get somewhat wet. And Roy, holding up the crotch pointed out a wet spot. 

“You did cream them slut.  See...”

“I think it’s going to be easy for me to train you,” he baited her.

“You’re wet and before I finish with you you’re gonna cum like the ‘nigger gutter slut’ you are.”

Michelle reacted as if she’d been punched again.  There it was....that old racial slur...the worst one anywhere in the world: NIGGER.

She had spent a lifetime overcoming the barriers that prevented black people and women from competing on any sort of an equal footing.  And here it was again, the old racist fence as high as the Rocky Mountains.  She just couldn’t resist. She opened her mouth to speak.

“I can’t believe you said that.  How can you use that word, knowing how hurtful and wrong and sick it is?  How can you...”

Before she could finish Roy crossed over the distance separating them and clamped his paw over her mouth.

“Now you’re getting ‘uppity’ again.  And I gotta stifle you.  I got just the thing.  Yup, I got this here gag.”

With that he held up her panties.  Michelle looked at it and her eyes went wide.  ‘He wouldn’t’, she thought to herself.  He did.  He pinched her nose shut by clamping two big fingers on her nostrils and then as her mouth yawned open to gasp some air, he balled up the panties and shoved them into her mouth.

Then, holding her by the hair in one hand, with one hard tug of the other that tore through the clasp and straps, he yanked off her bra, and wrapped and tied it around her head, the bra cups forming a chin strap and cap to hold the panty-gag in place. Roy stood back, smirked, then shook his head, scowled in mock seriousness, and scolded, “Now see what you made me have to do?    Here, let me show you,” he said, as he whipped out his phone, snapped a picture and showed it to her.

The black mother’s eyes widened and moistened as she saw her grotesquely degraded, bra-wrapped, panty-gagged face in the picture.  She’d been beaten, stripped, treated as a child, and now turned into some hideously debased creature, her mouth stuffed and head harnessed in her own underwear.  She heard him chuckling.

“Now, words have their own proper time and place.  Girls, ‘specially nigger girls, got big mouths and talk way too much.  Like they used to say about children back when we raised them right, girls, ‘specially nigger girls, generally speaking are best seen and not heard.  Now, nigger girl’s holes do have their uses, especially with those big, fat nigger lips.  But, whether they be ‘tween those fat nigger lips on your face or down ‘tween your legs, or ‘tween the cheeks of that fat black ass uh yours,” Roy explained with a punctuating smack on her ass, “nigger holes are mainly for fuckin’...

In fact, that’s why I stuffed your panties in your mouth.  Not just to shut you up, though that was part it, but to remind you what the fuck hole in your face is mainly for, nigger!They say that most of taste is smell and that smell is the strongest, longest-lasting memory.  Those panties beneath your nose and stuffed in your mouth are a lesson you should remember well. 

Now, no self-respecting woman, certainly no white woman would get all juiced up being beaten, humiliated and degraded like you have.  Only a nigger—a nigger gutter slut—would.  Don’t you agree?  Just nod if you do.”

Tears joined the sweat to roll down Michelle’s cheeks.  His words were beyond humiliating, even devastating, they were obliterating everything she’d tried to believe about who and what she was.   She saw his hand raise and she winced.  He patted her bra-cup cap.

“No nod?” he said, sounding sad, forming a smirking mock frown. “Niggers aren’t known for being smart, that’s for sure.  But you gotta be one of dumbest ones I’ve run across, and, as a cop, you can be sure I’ve seen plenty of dumb niggers.  So, you need another lesson?”

He pushed her over to the mantel.  “Hold onto that nigger,” he instructed her.

She put her two hands on the mantel and leaned forward as he told her.  Then she looked over her shoulder and saw that he was taking off his belt.  ‘Oh, God’, she said to herself.  He made her hold the position, threatening her that if she moved he would hang her from the rafter above and whip her.

Then he proceeded to give her a thorough beating on her fat ass.  He took his time. First he folded the belt in half.  Then he took turns hitting her on each cheek and then across both cheeks.  Then down on the ‘crease’, and Michelle groaned in pain as the belt tenderized the sweet spot that most women have there.

He even beat her on the backs of her thighs.  She grunted, snorted and breathed through her nose, snot running and dripping down, gripping the mantel like it was a life buoy and she was drowning.  She wriggled her ample ass....writhed like a hooked fish as he laid on thirty hard strokes. He was strong and when he brought his arm down with speed, the belt landed with the sound of a pistol shot.  Each blow brought a fresh grunt and groan from the black administrator.

She began sobbing as he beat her.  The image of a slave being whipped by her ‘Massa’ permeated her brain and it felt like she had swallowed bile.  It was a bitter pill to take.  The groans turned into shrieks and squeals when the blows overlapped.  Welts began appearing.  He made sure the blows landed where they could do her the most good. 

Her big bottom grew hot, as the cop sweated with the effort. It was humiliating to be reduced to a slave and Michelle felt the experience… demeaning, degrading and—‘OH GOD NO! she screamed into her panty-gag—arousing at the same time.  Amidst her pain and self-disgust a deep, strong lust was being stirred in her by this racist cop’s brutality and cruelty.  She had been slapped hard on her face, buttocks and her breasts before she was raped by her mother’s boyfriend.  That man seemed to take his bottled up anger out on her and he slapped her tits so hard that she nearly fainted. 

But when he began fucking her and especially when he penetrated her in her vagina and shoved fingers into her rectum, she came like a carnival whore.  The shame of that moment had seared into her brain like a brand.  She had been traumatized and now, with Roy, sadistic, but smiling and whipping her ass, had thrown Michelle into a time warp and she was getting hot and wet...VERY HOT AND WET.

Her pussy had begun to weep and she had begun to sweat in the heat of the moment.  Her vaginal secretions produced a very strong odor and as she sweated her underarms got wet...her back...her neck and her pussy began to drool...so much so, that by the last few blows, it had begun to drip down her right thigh. Roy noticed this and yanked off the bra holding her panties in her mouth.  He pulled out the soggy, smelly panty gag.

He said to her, “lookit, slut....you’re dirty, stinking hole is dripping. I can smell you if I stood on the other side of the room.  Face it, you’re a nigger whore....Say it....‘I’m a nigger whore’.”

Michelle groaned and now that he had stopped whipping her she sagged and when he drove the verbal dagger into her again and again....calling her a “nigger whore” she sank to her knees.  Her buttocks burned, but she was so overcome with emotion at what he called her, that she put her hands covering her face and began sobbing and sobbing.

“OH GOD,” she kept moaning.

Roy came over and stood right next to her. He used the toe of his black cowboy boot to nudge her in the ribs.

“Lick my boot, nigger,” he told her.

“OH JESUS,” she groaned.

“Lick it, you nigger gutter slut.  DO IT...”

Michelle looked down at his boot as if it were something alive and vile. Her voice was soft and wounded.  She sounded five years old.

“Please...please...don’t make me do that...please,” she begged.

“You call me ‘Massa’ now....or I’m going to beat you again with the belt.  Do you understand.”

“Oh God help me,” she said softly.  “God help me....”

She sniveled and murmured “M-m-massa” as she bent down and began to kiss the instep. 

“That’s a good nigger.  You lick it too, nigger.”

Michelle bent to the task and the sheer mortification she felt was so profound that she groaned as if someone had slowly worked a wooden shaft into her gut as she did it.  And when she slowed down, Roy reached over and gave her a little swat on the back of her head, like she was a disobedient child.  Roy used his camera phone to take more pictures of her degrading herself.

The more she did it, the more she got into it and then at one point, it was as if she had caught sight of herself, she stopped and began weeping so heavily that her tears wet the boot she held in her hand.  She lifted herself up a bit and threw her arms around Roy’s knees.  She hugged him and sobbed like a babygirl.  The mental image of her, a black female, hugging her “Massa’s” knees, was a powerful mental shock. One part of her seemed to be outside her own body, observing and seeing the tableau as it unfolded, in all its horror...

“See what I mean,” Roy drawled. “Hundreds of years of slavery...it’s part of your soul now.  How many black slaves have hugged their master’s knees after a whippin’ and begged him for mercy.  That’s got a long history, nigger.”

His words caused something to snap in Michelle.  The image of a beaten female slave on her knees begging her “Massa” is one she knew from history books...a hated image. And in that moment, she had become that slave.  It was almost too much.  Coupled with the residual trauma of her rape as ateen, Michelle had a transcendental moment. 

It was as if her entire universe, which had always seemed to be “out of alignment”, began to click into place.  She could almost hear the wheels and gears grinding and then clanking into place.  She was on her knees as a slave and facing the awful maw of history which contained a million such raw and wounding incidents.  She felt she was still falling but now it was coming to a stop.  And the stop, although wrenching, was somehow reassuring. 

She had come to a place she knew.  Strangely and sadly, she had come home...One part of her mind was at peace, but the professional, proper woman she was every day, that part of her mind, thrashed about in the turbulence which seemed to fill the room like smoke.  It seemed to fill the nooks and crannies of her soul like some evil liquid...

Roy wasted no time now.  He was erect and wanting to cum soon, but also wanting to give this new slave the full experience. He knew exactly what he wanted to do to her and he knew he needed to pace himself to get the job done right.

“Take off your clothes, nigger,” he commanded her. 

She did as she was told now.  It was still humiliating, but something in her was meshing with these feelings.  She pulled off her blouse, unzipped her skirt, took off her black half-slip and removed her shoes.  He made her lay down on the rug in front of the fireplace.  He tossed a log onto the dying flames.  Sparks shot up as it landed and Michelle looked over with detachment.  She felt still like she was watching herself on TV or in a film.

Roy pushed her thighs up to her breasts exposing the whole plane of her genitals and anus to his gaze.  He took in the sight:  Michelle was a fulsome woman.  She had a hairy crotch...it even extended up in a thin line towards her navel. She was even hairy all around her tight dark brown anus.  Her labia were thick and full and the inner lips were almost black at the edges.  Her clitoris was peeking out of its protective hood and her hot pink hole looked tight for a woman who’d given birth twice, once to twins. He took a few pictures of her lying there naked.

And she was wet...very wet...as Roy began to play with her pussy. 

“I just love the look and smell of a colored girl’s pussy,” is how he put it. 

Michelle cringed as he teasingly rubbed the crease between her labia and her thighs.  He got a more vocal response when the tantalized the left side.  Then he let his finger walk down to the creases between her buttocks and her full thighs, inching closer toward her wet, drooling crotch.  

“Your hairy, smelly cunt is wet and ready for fucking - ISN’T IT NIGGER WHORE,” he chuckled at her?

Roy took his time.  His plan was to make Michelle cum by playing with her first.  So he gave her light caresses, flicking with the tips of his fingers and even his nails, then firmer, gliding strokes with his finger.  When Michelle began to moan, he knew he was on the right track.  As he teased her he spiced up what he was doing by tormenting her too.   He pinched and occasionally slapped her pussy.  He gave her swats on her still sore butt cheeks.

He used the pads of his finger tips on the shaft of her clit.  She was now moaning steadily and continued to drool her smelly vaginal slime.  Then he took his middle third together and began rubbing her up and down and side to side in a big circle. He started doing this slower then went faster.  He went back and forth looking for the pattern that would put her right in his control. 

He went slow-fast-slow-fast and Michelle began crying out,  “Oh-God-Oh-God-Oh-God-Oh-God,” all run together rapidly, very guttural, gagging and stuttering...Then SHE CAME. 

As her orgasm, so long denied, overwhelmed her. She cried out, “OH  JJJEEESUS!   JESUSGOD!”

Roy didn’t give her an inch.  He began rubbing her again, the same way only this time, he alternated it with sticking his middle fingers in her cunt and finger fucking her as he rubbed her clit with his thumb.  Between the two, he had her cumming like a two dollar whore. Michelle was a ‘squirter’.

As she orgasmed, her ejaculation gushed out.  When Roy made her cum a third time the thin, clear, sweet secretions stopped erupting from her urethra and she began urinating.  She peed when she came!She was sweating like a pig now and Roy began talking to her in a low, crooning voice.

Telling her that she was a nigger cum slut now.  That her vaginal secretions which had a very strong odor, that left no doubt... ‘you’re a nigger whore’.   Further, as Roy played with her expertly, her pussy emitted squishy, squelchy  ‘pussy farts’.  And eventually she farted from her asshole too. 

When she got real noisy, at one point, he pushed her panties back into her mouth.  She began grunting and groaning into the gag and snorting snot out through her nose.  There was no way during this that she could stay a ‘lady’.  For all her efforts, she had been reduced to a snot dribbling, wet pussy drooling nigger gutter slut.  Ray took some more pictures.

Following this, Roy made her masturbate. She had never in her whole life done this in front of another human being.  The fact that it was a redneck cop who compelled her made it ironic and even more shaming.  She was tentative at first, but Roy supervised her playing with her pussy.

When she didn’t show enough enthusiasm, he spanked her open pussy, especially the inner labia and her clitoris, with his belt.  He made her push her fingers in and out as she rubbed her nubbin and sex lips and he took a few pictures of her degrading herself with his phone camera.

Soon, Michelle was writhing and wriggling like a water moccasin on a fish hook. She made herself cum and it was such a cataclysmic event, that she began sobbing again.  Each of these things, all the more so by bringing all of them together, had been an explosive experience for her.  It was the beginning of a process of self-discovery.  He pulled the panties out of her mouth and took this moment to say to her, “say...I’m a nigger slut.”

“Oh God....no....please,” she began begging again, plaintive and pathetic.

“Say, I’m a nigger slut. Say it .....SAY IT.”

“OH...GOD...I am...I am.....I’m a...n...nig...nigger...I’m a nigger slut,” she bawled.  She was a sweaty, stinky, sloppy mess.  Her hair was disheveled, her make-up was gone....and her composure was history.  He really took her down a peg when he made her squeeze her PC muscles to squirt some slop out of her vagina.

He stood up and began unbuckling his trousers.   He fished out his cock and balls.  He had a somewhat longer than average circumcised cock that was fairly thick.  He began waving it around like a weapon.

“Time to show your appreciation to Massa, slut.  Get on your knees and suck my cock.”

She was very aware of her pussy still throbbing and drooling as she knelt before him. He grabbed her by the hair.  She stared at his rampant erection right in her face.  His hard penis reared back towards his abdomen from the brown hair at his groin.  He stroked the shaft, pulling the skin tight so that the glans lookedpolished and gleaming with the wetness already leaking from the hole at the tip.  He grinned as he enjoyed his control over the sexy, black woman before him. 

He began rubbing the head of his cock all over her face - smearing his pre-cum in little snail trails all over her face.  Then, upping the degradation level higher, he forced open her mouth, yanked her head around by the hair and made her take it in her mouth.  He enjoyed the feeling of her lips wrapped around the head of his cock. 

And when she flattened her tongue so he could run the entire length of his cock over its silky surface, getting it wet and harder, he chuckled again at her sluttish behavior.  Soon he his cock all the way in her mouth and she was sucking on it like a baby…

At first she could take most of his length into her mouth, sucking and working it with her tongue and lips, but when his cock touched the back of her throat, she gagged.  Then Roy, grabbing her by the hair in one hand and his cock in the other, made her take more of it…taking all the control away from her.

She began drooling – her mouth and chin getting wet and sloppy like her pussy.  Soon, he was forcing his whole cock into her mouth – just face fucking her.  He would do that for a few moments, and then give her a chance to breathe.  He had a fair-sized cock and now he set the pace. 

He commanded her, “Suck it, nigger”. 

With her hot mouth engulfing it, his cock reached its full erect size, and taking the whole thing became a challenge for her.  He forced it all the way to the opening of her throat - past the back of her tongue and it made her gag over again and again.

She would cough and gag and he would take it out to let her get a breath.  With her eyes tearing, her nose beginning to run and her mouth began salivating like mad.  She was just a little face fuck puppet now.  And after having caught her breath, he would grab her by her hair again – yank her head around a little and then holding his cock in one hand like a weapon...force her to suck it again.  A very cruel, degrading ritual.  He picked his phone up from the mantel to take a shot of her sucking his dick.

When he went slowly, she’d gag a little.  But when he began face fucking her faster, harder and deeper, she drooled, gagged and coughed.  Her throat muscles tightened involuntarily every time she felt the tip of his cock touch the back of her tongue as she struggled to control her gag reflex. 

He grabbed her head in both hands and face-fucked her like a machine.  The slow, rhythmic pace was gone.  Her throat tightened up no matter how hard she tried to relax. Snot ran from her nose, saliva dripped from the gagging and tears ran down her cheeks.  She was drooling madly; her saliva dripped down her chin to wet her big, black tits.  She couldn’t swallow it all, so it just dribbled and ran from her lips and down her chin, wetting her tits.

It stimulated her to have him take control of her and use her for his pleasure.  Her ‘sex’ button was being pushed hard - the more he took control of her, the more aroused she became against her will. 

Soon her pussy was very wet again and began to drool down her thighs.  With both hands on his hips she tried to hold him back…she banged on him with her balled fists to make him give her a breather.  She tried not to gag, to wipe her nose, and choke on all the saliva and pre-cum pooling in her mouth.  She was soon a sloppy mess. Her gagging made her whole body convulse embarrassingly and she farted again.

This was very degrading and humiliating.  She worried she might wet herself too.  His hands were tangled in her hair.   Soon, with her lips wrapped around his shaft and her tongue on the underside, his cock went in all the way and he felt the warm, electric sensation that told him he was almost ready to spurt.  His hips did a little jig, his breathing became labored, he began to grunt, and then he thrust his cock in deep and held it there.  Michelle gagged as the first spurts of his ejaculation hit the opening to her throat.

It seemed like he just kept spurting and spurting so that semen backed up and shot out of her mouth in a torrent.  There was so much.  She had to gulp and gulp to swallow the large load.  Gagging, she coughed and it was a sloppy, wet cough.  His cock popped out and the last spurts splashed on her lips, nose and chin. 

She moaned when he milked the last blob of semen on her face.  He shook off the last few droplets on her too and used the tip of his cock to smear cum all over her lips, nose and mouth.  She was a disgusting mess when he was done.  Her eyes were red - saliva and semen everywhere and her lips were puffy and swollen.  He had no intention of allowing her to wipe her face.  He made sure she left it there to humiliate her further. 

She sagged down to the rug and just lay there, like a beached fish.  Roy pulled up his shorts and trousers.  He sat down on the couch. He took a picture of her lying there like a used whore.

“Can I go home now,” Michelle asked, tentatively, in a small voice?

“I’d say in another half hour or so...maybe an hour.  Since we got it right now what you are, I think I’m gonna fuck your cunt as soon as I can get it up again.”

Michelle groaned, “Oh God.... NO.”

She began talking again about what he was doing to her and how it violated all standards for decency etc.  Well, Roy smiled as she went on some - then he fetched her panties again.

“Lie back, nigger,” he said to her.  “I’m gonna clean up some of that fuck slime.”

Michelle hated him in that moment. Some part of her was trying to reassert herself and he unceremoniously just shoved her back in the dirt.  It was very galling. And as she searched desperately for something to say to him....to sway him with her intellectual brilliance, she started off again somewhat tentative, but building again to feel stronger.

But as she lay on her back and he used the crotch of her once pristine white panties to mop up the river of secretions in and around the mouth of her vagina and all around her crotch, she felt her resolve leaving her.  Then he made her sit up and pulled the panties over her head so that she was looking out the leg holes.  Roy made sure to get the messy crotch right over her nose and mouth. 

“Now, you open your mouth and clean that dirty, stinky crotch.  You suck it clean.  That’s called “Oral Panty Pre-Wash”.  And you do a good job.  And while you’re at work, here’s something for you to think about.”

With that, he opened a can he’d brought from the kitchen. It was Crisco®.  He got a carrot nicely coated with the grease...and then he made her bend over and spread her ass cheeks to expose her dark anus sitting in the dark hairy grove of her asscrack. 

He rubbed the tip of carrot around to smear the grease all over the puckered ring of muscle.  Then he began pressing it against the tight sphincter until it popped in.  He worked it in and deeper until he had five or six inches of it seated in her rectum.  Then he told her to get busy and suck on the dirty crotch of her panties.

“That’s your “thinking cap”,” he laughed.  When you go getting too “white” on me...too “uppity”, I’m gonna gag you, jig.  Or I’m gonna put the “thinking cap” on you. To get your mind right, nigger. Your choice.”

Michelle found this to be, perhaps the most degrading thing he had done to her yet.  She was stunned and appalled at the depths he was willing to take her.  It was simply unbelievable. 

Within ten minutes, with the stimulation of watching the hottest nigger bitch he’d ever had on her knees, sucking on the dirty crotch of her panties, Roy was ready to fuck Michelle.  First, he made her get on her elbows and knees on the rug.  He played with her pissflaps again.  Pulling on them and rubbing her clitoral shaft. 

Then he shoved his fingers in, one-by-one, as far as they would go - making her grunt.   He noticed how she responded to having the bumpy front wall of her vagina touched.... So, he got two fingers inside her and began rubbing her G-spot and the area just beyond it.  Soon, her hips were doing a jig as he went faster and faster.  And then, he began making her squirt.

“Oh...shit...OOH...OH...OH...OH,” she cried out as she came.

“What a dirty, nigger gutter slut you are,” he said to her.  “You cum like a slut dog,” he said as he rubbed her soaked pussy.  He then brought his hand up to her face and shoved his fingers under the waistband of her panties around her neck. He rubbed his wet fingers all over her nose and mouth.

Michelle closed her eyes.   She was humiliated and sickened by how she responded.  Then, he went to work on her again.   One-by-one he got three of his fingers inside her up to his knuckles.  She could hear the wet, squelching sounds as he worked her sex hole.

As he worked her, she gushed and came again, wetting his forearm.  She began to jerk, shake and tremble; her body went into spasms as she came.  It was a deep uterine orgasm.  He smiled – it was fun making her cum.  It was even better when he verbally abused her and he could tell even with the panties on her head that she was humiliated.

Then he took the carrot from her ass.  She had felt the violation of the carrot as he finger fucked her and that combined with rubbing her clitoris had made her cum harder than any of the other times. Then he spit on her pussy twice.  This was another violation.  He was ready and began working his cock into her, impaling her. 

The expressions on his face and hers under her panty cap, were similar.  Both appeared to be in the grip of pain.  Michelle by the humiliation and Roy thrilled as he fucked her.  He was driven by his lust and his desire to humiliate her now.   And, Michelle had a nice hole.

Just like she were giving birth, she panted as she tried to deal with his cock in her sexhole.   Sweating intothe panty cap on her head, she moaned like a stuck calf.  He held onto her hip bones and humped her slowly at first and then with more enthusiasm.

He leaned on her with his weight and forced his hard cock deeper into her.  His cock, embedded fully now inside her pussy, sent a throbbing wave of pleasure through her.  He roughly forced his way deeper inside her ass, cruelly pressing against the end of her hole.  She felt as if a baseball bat was being forced up inside her.  It felt like he was going to split her in two.  She had not had a cock inside her in a long time...

“OH GOD, IT’S HURTS...OH...GOD...NO...NO...PLEASE...NO!”

Her body began to surrender to his cock as her vaginal sphincter and canal relaxed finally and gave way.  In her mind and body she began to open up to him totally.  There was no other way....

“Please...not so hard...it hurts,” she begged him.

Her hole had tented a little and now he was fully inside her up to his pubic hairs.   Her pussy gripped the base of his cock - squeezing his cock gently. 

He then began to ride her harder.  He started moving in and out of her like a machine.  Now that he was all the way inside her, Roy knelt, his knees shoulder width apart on the rug.  He gripped her slick, sweaty shoulders to pull her pliant body back so he could plow into her with hard, powerful strokes.  He slammed into her, relentlessly impaling her on his spear. 

Involuntarily, Michelle, underneath him, cried out, a low constant moan coming from her full Negro lips.  Her hands clenched helplessly each time he thrust forward.  Her body had gone limp.  Nothing angry or pleading came out of her mouth, just incoherent animal-like sounds and a long moan, the volume rising and falling in time with his methodical humping.

It seemed to her as if it would go on forever.  It was shaming, but what was worse was that she felt so helpless.  There was nothing she could do to make him stop.  He stayed hard stroke after stroke.  He came and threw himself onto her back, grabbing her black hair to force her head to one side, so he could see her eye through the leg hole of the panty.  Only then, after he had looked her in the eye and felt her submit, did he cum in her.  He cried out in triumph as he filled her sex-hole with a load of his hot cum.  

He lay on her wet, warm back for a moment, crushing her with his weight.  Then pulled her panty “thinking cap” off and spit on her face.  Michelle shuddered with the violation.  To have a white man spit in her face was perhaps the ultimate insult!  He took another photo of her face, slimy with his spittle and another of her cunt drooling his load of semen. 

Michelle began sobbing again.  Following this, he made her tell him that she was a ‘no-good nigger gutter slut’.  Then he grabbed her by her hair and got her to her feet.  He dragged her to the bathroom.  There was a shower stall there.  He made her knee in the stall and took out his cock. 

“Put your hands behind your head, gutter slut,” he commanded her. 

Then, aiming his cock at her face, he took aim.  Michelle’s eyes widened in shock and horror as she realized that he was going to piss on her. 

“Oh, God,” she whimpered as she contemplated this debasement.

“P...Please...please...don’t do this to me,” she said in a small voice.

“Now, now,” the cop chuckled in a mockingly sympathetic, soothing tone.  “Gotta wash off that sweat, spit, sperm and cunt cream off that pretty face, don’t we?”

She felt his hot stream hit her like a blast.  He hosed off the sweat from her tits.  Then he aimed the hot, smelly stream of urine at her crotch.  Following this, he brought it up to her face.  The smell, already overpowering, now overwhelmed her as he rinsed her face with his piss. 

“Open your mouth,” he said to her.She hesitated, knowing he’d piss in it.  “Need another lesson, nigger?”  She whimpered and opened her mouth.

When she did so, he filled her mouth with his acrid piss. It ran in and out of her mouth, but then Michelle gagged and the foul mouthful came spurting out in a torrent.  He continued to run his stream over her forehead, eyes and nose as she coughed and sputtered. Finally, he was done.  She continued gagging and spitting...

“Can I have my pictures back,” she finally begged him, like a little girl?

“Are you stupid? I have pictures of you now suckin’ my cock.  And more.  From now on, you’re my bitch. You can have the fuckin’ pictures, what the hell does that matter?  Are you fuckin’ stupid or what,” he chuckled.

Michelle did feel like a fool. She couldn’t imagine what she thought.  And now he had new pictures...even more damaging.  She realized how trapped she was and began sobbing.

“Cry all you want, slut.  Your tears turn me on.  I just love puttin’ my foot in a dumb gutter nigger slut like you.”

He pulled out the phone.  Methodically, he began to show her the photos he had taken of her.  She was in a state of shock as she stared at them.  Never in her life had she been photographed doing such things. If the pictures that her ex had taken of her were bad, these were ten times worse.  And the full weight of what had happened on this Saturday had now hit her.  She knew that he was going to use the pictures to keep blackmailing her.  She had entered a NIGHTMARE! She was now his ‘bitch’!

He got on the phone and called his son.  Michelle heard him talking to them, but didn’t get it all.  She worried that her ordeal wasn’t over. She hoped he was going to let her go for the day at least.

Chapter 3

The Maid and the Boys

“I got a uniform for you to wear, nigger,” Roy said turning to her.

“W...what?”

“Get yourself cleaned up,” he ordered her.

“God, just let me go home.  Haven’t you done enough to me?” she whined.  Roy chuckled and this made Michelle shiver.

“Look jig, you’re on the fuckin’ toboggan now.  You’re going down for the full ride,” he said indicating that the new pictures he had just taken gave him plenty of insurance.

Michelle shook her head and didn’t know what to do.  She wanted to regain some control over the situation, but it had already spiraled out of control.  She felt numb and helpless...When she hesitated, he took action.

He grabbed her by the shoulder and pushed her to take a shower.  When she was toweling herself dry he showed her what he wanted her to wear.  She had been grateful for the shower.  She felt dirty down to her soul, but when he showed her the outfit he had assembled, she began felt sick to her stomach.  He had laid the pieces down, one at a time on the seatback of the toilet.  Michelle’s worst nightmares were taking shape right before her eyes. 

Roy was enjoying himself.  He was laying out what was basically a ‘Panty Maid’ outfit, a perversely improvised, accessorized variation on a French Maid’s outfit.  He’d gotten the idea from a tranny he’d busted once, dressed up in a way he’d never forget.  He had bought all the pieces.  If anything, it demonstrated to Michelle how long and careful this cop had been preparing to enslave her. 

She felt the hair on the back of her neck standing up as he held up, in turn, a black, nylon spandex mini-slip, a white push-up bra, three pairs of white panties, along with white lace-top thigh-high stockings and two white lace garter belts.

“What’s all this for,” Michelle asked pointlessly. 

“This is your uniform.  Let me explain. As part of your  ‘re-education’ I’m going to give you an opportunity to work as a domestic.  A housemaid.  You should feel privileged, a nigger as dark as you was typically a field slave, not a house slave.  When I have you come over on a weekend, I may have you wear this get-up.  Got the idea from a tranny fag I busted once.  Shit, girl, you already been kind of auditioning and didn’t know it. 

“One of those pairs of panties is for your head, a ‘panty cap.’Another pair is a ‘panty apron,’ which is what one of the garter belts holds up.  The other panties you wear like you normally would, you know with a garter belt and the stockings.  That’s your maid’s uniform,”  Roy snickered at the stunned, dazed look on her face.

“This is beyond demeaning. I have a master’s degree. I’m the Chief Administrator at St. Luke’s Children’s Hospital,” she said.

Roy just laughed. He held up the cell phone.

“Yeah, RIGHT...you’re the fuckin’ chief muckity muck. And I got pictures of you suckin’ my cock. That’s why you’re gonna do what I say, nigger.  So, get this shit on now, or I’m gonna whip your ass,” he said with a sneer.

Michelle gulped and didn’t know what to do.  When she hesitated, He pulled her over his knee.

“What you need is a nice old-fashioned over-the-knee spanking,” he laughed.  The way he could so abruptly and deftly shift from one mode to another mode of humiliating her—the flexibility and ingenuity and sheer perversity of it—was mind-boggling. 

Michelle began struggling, but he held onto her and began to give her nice, hard smacks on her big ass with his strong, right hand.  He was a 220lb. cop.  She was a 40-year-old mother whose workouts, however rigorous,would never make it an even matchup.  He spanked her harder...each blow sounding like a pistol shot, followed by a girlish squeal, in the confines of the tiled bathroom. And then reached for a hairbrush.

“I’m gonna whip your black ass every time you give me any shit, jig,” he said as he laid into her with five or six hot, hard ones. 

As each smack landed on her full butt cheeks, Michelle writhed and wriggled.  She felt herself sliding down the ladder to become a little girl again. Getting a whipping from an adult.  She began moaning and whimpering as he continued to slap her ass.

“Gonna whip your black ass every time you piss me off...you nigger gutter slut,” he said thru clenched teeth.

His words hurt even more than the blows...When he was done, he pushed her off his lap unceremoniously; and she landed with a thud on the bathroom floor.

“Oh, God,” moaned and she lay in a fetal heap.  “Oh, God, help me.”

He nudged her in the side with the toe of his boot.  “Get up nigger and get this shit on.”

“Please don’t make me wear that,” she begged him.

He grinned.  He had obviously been planning this for a while, and was not going to be dissuaded from having all the fun he’d planned.Michelle groaned and looked down at the clothes laid out on the toilet.

“Bein’ a nigger housemaid is the perfect job for you, Michelle.  You should thank me.  And if you don’t do a good job, remember whose email addresses I have in this phone.”

She had to do it...put on the uniform.  The bra pushed her tits up in the most obscene way.  One garter belt went on next followed by the thin nylon panties panties which allowed him to see her ass crack and the thick mat of pubic hair outlined in the material. The black slip functioned as a dress but was very short. He had gotten her size right.

No mystery there - he had gone thru her laundry when he was hanging out at the house to get her bra and dress size. Still, the slip was too tight and short.  Michelle felt like a whore standing there as he supervised her putting on another white lace garter, like a wedding garter, as a choker.  Then he gave her a pair of white panties.  She looked at it blankly.

“Put this on your head, like a cap,” he said chuckling.

Michelle groaned and tried to protest, but did it. Then he handed her another pair of white panties to be held up by another garter belt, this one over her slip, as her ‘panty apron’.  All dressed up now, she looked ridiculous. She felt even worse.When she was done, she couldn’t look at herself in the mirror, but he wanted her to put on some make-up and ragged on her until she did it to his satisfaction.  She stared at herself in the mirror and was horrified.

She had been made to look like a caricature...a clown! It was as if he had flipped the careful persona she wore every day, that of a professional, proper woman, a mother and on the other side of the coin was this clown.  She felt the mental pain as if he had shoved a knife into her heart! He made her pirouette around and then told her to follow him.  He took her back to the living room and told her to wait.  Then he returned hauling a vacuum cleaner.

“I want you to get busy and vacuum this room. And then use the fuckin’ thing in the kitchen...and the bedroom down the hall.”

Michelle felt the task demeaning, to say the least, but at least he wasn’t brutalizing her. She had barely gotten over having to strip and suck Roy’s cock. And then having him fuck her. And getting belt whipped and hand spanked.  Then being made to dress up like a clown. And then work as a menial cleaning his house.

Twenty minutes later, his son and his posse showed up.  Four testosterone filled teens; all were 1st or 2nd  string on the football team, The Tigers, at Little Rock Central High.  The boys, Roy and Michelle all knew the history of Little Rock Central High, as the site of one of the most famous incidents in the Civil Right movement, when President Eisenhower sent federal troops to protect The ‘Little Rock Nine’ students as the integrated the high school in 1957. 

Shit, Roy thought, people been arguing about revisionist history in the South—Civil Rights, Jim Crow, Klan, the Civil War—for well over a century.  And here he was, living a revisionist racist history, reversing it and turning it fucking upside down! Shit, if it were someone else instead of the boys coming over, he’d be gettin’ it all on video.

Michelle couldn’t have been more unprepared.  Ryan with Dwight and Harold in his car parked in front of the house.  Lloyd parked in the driveway and led the crew in the back way where they all knew the door was often unlocked.  Roy had every intention of having Michelle serve the boys.

He would begin her debasement training by humiliating and embarrassing her to the max by turning her into an absurdly pathetic joke. When they came into the living room, poor Michelle was vacuuming the rug.  To see their mascot Brian’s mother in the silly maid’s getup got them hooting and slapping palms.

“Let me explain to you boys what’s goin’ on here,” is how he put it.

He did a show and tell with the pictures.  All during this, Michelle had to keep vacuuming. As each original picture was passed around, the hooting and hollering got louder.  Michelle tried to concentrate on her task, but she was dying inside.  She knew that Roy had much more humiliation, probably sexual humiliation, planned for her and she felt her pussy, hot, swollen between her legs. 

She hated herself for it. What Roy was doing and exposing the boys to it was sick and twisted, and how she was reacting was even sicker and more twisted.  But her disgust only seemed to further stir her lust.  She stole peeks at the boys and noted how young and big they all were.  So unlike her own son.

Big, white and prejudiced.  They sat down on the couch and watched spellbound as Roy ordered Michelle to fetch some soda pop, glasses and ice from the kitchen for the “boys”. 

He told her where everything was and said, “and don’t fuck it up, nigger!”

At the sound of the “N” word, the boys fell out.  Lloyd’s daddy had really put sumptin’ really special together.

“Mr. Bennett...have you fucked her,” Harold asked?

Roy just grinned like the cat that got the cream and said, “you know it boys!”

And the boys went into paroxysms of laughter and clapping.

“OH,boy,” you’re the fuckin’ man, Mr. Bennett,” Ryan said admiringly.

“Hey, Mr. B...do we get to fuck her too,” Harold asked?

“All in good time, boys. But first, we gotta have a little fun.”

In the kitchen and hearing them laugh, Michelle bit her lip. ‘Oh God, what are they planning to do to me’, she wondered?

She had met them all before, of course, at the house.  But she had never really focused on them as individuals.  When Brian came home and told her that he was hanging out with some seniors, she was concerned.  When she found out that they were also jocks that Brian tutored she couldn’t figure out why they wanted Brian to hang out with them. 

But one quick take when they were over the house convinced her they liked all the games he had (she and her ex had really indulged him) and that he was a sort of mascot for them. She worried that they had her son helping them cheat, doing their schoolwork for them, but her son insisted that wasn’t the case, and was so angry that she’d asked, she dropped it and never raised the issue again.

She would keep track of this new relationship, she decided and let Brian have his new coterie of pals.  But, other than sort of dealing with them as a group, she had never looked at them as individuals.  Now, with all four boys sprawled on the furniture, and her serving them soft drinks, she made note of who and what they might be.  Ryan, was tall and handsome...a real 1st stringer type. 

He seemed like a natural winner and leader, but she could see that he deferred to Lloyd.  Dwight was tall, heavy and slow.  A 2nd string offensive tackle, he didn’t seem to be the brightest bulb in the group. Harold was a 2nd string center on a team that was dominated by blacks.  Only Lloyd and Ryan and one other white boy were 1st string.

Michelle checked Harold out and, he seemed to her like a real loser.  Fat, funny looking with jug ears and sarcastic, he looked like the type of kid who hung around the local convenience store making wisecracks.  Actually, there was a real measure of class prejudice at work here.  Michelle was upper class...had advanced degrees and lived in the Heights.  These boys lived on the “working class” side of town.  Harold looked like he lived in a trailer park.

They were “rednecks” and proud of it.  Michelle had always loathed being around that sort of white person.  She liked educated, liberal whites.  ‘At least they tried to act like they considered you an equal,’ she felt.  Lloyd had been raised by his father, an avowed racist.  And all four boys felt the tough competition from blacks on the athletic field.  As a minority on the football team, it was easy for them to be intimidated by African-Americans.  After years of ingesting and percolating this poison, they had developed a virulent hatred of blacks. 

In one fell swoop, Roy had delivered to them a Christmas present to assuage their fears:  An attractive middle-aged black women to use as a toy. An “uppity” black bitch brought to her knees and made to serve.  As she handed each boy a can of soda pop and a glass with ice, she was enormously aware of her tits, pussy and ass being thinly veiled by the grotesque costume Roy had made her wear.  Lloyd, who had just been grinning and enjoying his enhanced status, as Roy’s son, now began to verbally abuse her.

“Dudes, check out our new maid,” he said. “I say ‘our’ because as you guys know, we’re a one-for-all and all-for-one kind of dudes.  Now, that my Pop has this nigger gutter slut in harness...”

Michelle cringed at his verbal rape.  It got worse...

“...As you can see, boys,” Roy said, “I got the right uniform for her.  ‘Cause her new job is maid and slave.  Now, Michelle’s problem is that her mind isn’t right.”

It was the first time he’d said her name. He’d been referring to her as a thing. It’s our job to re-educate her.  Get her mind right.  Are you boys game?”

“Shit, Mr. Bennett, I was born ready to play,” said Ryan.  Dwight, who looked up to Lloyd and his dad like they were gods, reached over to slap palms with him.  Harold grinning and leering said, “OK...let the games begin!”

Michelle stood by dumbly holding the cheap tray that she’d used to hold their drinks.  As Roy berated her, she looked at the floor.  Now he gave her orders.

He ordered Michelle to pull and hold her slip up and show everyone her panties.  Then he made her pull her tits out of her bra cups to expose her titties. He pointed out the big black, stiff nipples and Michelle just wanted to die!

Then he made her pull her panties down and leave them around her knees.  They soon slid down to her ankles.   He scolded her, made her pull her panties back up to her knees and resume frog-walking and waddling around the room, still trying not to spill anything on the serving tray.  The boys were roaring with laughter as she did it, looking foolish and awkward as she stumbled around, Roy scolded and slapped her butt for failing to follow his instructions perfectly. 

It was a humiliating routine. Michelle’s eyes filled with tears and she began to whine and beg.  Roy pulled out a pint bottle of peach brandy and began to “sweeten” the boys’ soft drinks as he put Michelle thru her paces.

“Put the fuckin’ tray down, you stupid slut,” he told her. “Now, I gotta get you in condition. So, I want you to do some jumping jacks.”

He made her pull her bra down to her waist and then jump up and down.  Michelle’s big D cup titties flopped up and down, jiggled and bobbed making Dwight and Harold hoot and clap.  By this time, every boy was as hard as a rock.  Then Roy made her pull her panties off and hand them to Harold.  Next, she had to do squats.  As she went up and  down her legs parted and each boy could see her hairy pussy.  Finally, the heat in the room was boiling, and Roy stood up, at that point, unzipped and pulled out his big circumcised cock.

“Time to suck some cock,” he announced.

Michelle groaned and it was a signal for the others to jump in.  Roy got it going. “Let me showyou what those big, fat nigger lips are for and how this nigger slut likes to suck cock. You boys...drop your socks and fist your cocks. It’s party time.”

Lloyd and Ryan needed no encouragement and took out his cock.  Soon, Harold had his short, fat cock out and Dwight took out his little pecker.  The three crowded in close as Roy had Michelle down on her knees and kissing and licking his eight incher. 

Michelle had gone into submissive mode.  As the four boys crowded around, she let herself be led from one cock to another. She obediently opened her mouth and began kissing and licking each one of their young, hot, hard cocks.

Ryan was wearing a t-shirt and running shorts and all he had to do was pull his shorts and boxers down to reveal his average sized circumcised cock.  Harold was wearing a similar pair of short but bit Dwight was wearing Levis and had to struggle a bit to get the tight jeans down. His waist was around 40”.  He was 6’4” and 245lbs.  He had a small, below average cock.  Harold’s cock was fat, but average in length and uncircumcised. His was the only “uncut” cock in the bunch.  Lloyd’s cock was two inches longer than Ryan’s and thicker than everyone’s except his dad’s.

Roy had Michelle by her straightened locks and was turning her head this way and that.  First from his cock and then to each of the boy’s dicks.  The boys, used to being naked in the locker room and having done more than one “circle jerk” in front of each other, were comfortable being exposed this way.  It was a little intimidating being with Lloyd’s dad, but he had set this up and they all felt like it was being given to them as a “rite of passage.”

Michelle was lost in a fog. Being made to orally service five whites was overwhelming.  She let herself be led like a slave.  At Roy’s command, she kissed and licked their cocks lovingly, getting her mouth all wet and sloppy in the bargain.  Each cock was soon glistening.

“Listen, boys, the first one who cums loses,” Roy declared.  “Let’s make this slut work for her lunch,” he laughed as he turned her humiliation into a game.

Michelle was soon sucking each cock.  Taking them in as far as her mouth would permit...her cheeks hollowing and making wet “slurpy” sounds which delighted the boys. 

“She sucks good, chief,” Dwight said to Lloyd.

“She’s trainable,” Lloyd answered, turning to his beaming dad.

It was Dwight who ejaculated first.  Michelle had been taking him in to the root and when she pressed her tongue tightly to the bottom of his small shaft and slowly sucked hard and then went back and forth in a totally nasty way, the boy spurted hard eight or nine times.

“Oh shit, thar she blows,” Harold joked.  Dwight was famous for his copious ejaculations!

He filled Michelle’s mouth and it soon dribbled from the right corner to drool down her chin. Roy kept her sucking. Whenever she slowed down, he gave her a smack on the back of the head to “encourage” her. He, Lloyd and Ryan face-fucked her.  With the two 1st stringers, it became a competition.  They each took turns holding her by the hair or the ears and just ramming it in nice and deep, making Michelle gag and groan.

“Dude, you’re choking her,” Ryan laughed when Lloyd got his big cock all the way to the back of her throat and Michelle’s body convulsed and shook. 

It was pretty obscene.  Harold liked her to suck his cock sweetly and Michelle got a respite as he let her orally worship his fat uncircumcised dick. 

“That’s it, lady,” he said as she got her tongue on the underside, just like she did for Dwight and began nursing on him.  He soon spurted, his fat hips doing a coital dance as the black woman took his seed.

She pulled away from him with a ‘pop’ and gasped for air.  She was being worked hard with five cocks to service.  Then Ryan and Lloyd stepped up their competition and each was determined to face fuck her and be the last to cum.  So, poor Michelle got a workout of monumental portions.

It was Lloyd, with his bigger, longer dick, who really punished her.  But Ryan wasn’t far behind.  As they worked their dicks in her mouth, a thick frothy ring of saliva and their youthful pre-cum began to drip. It was pretty disgusting and Dwight and Harold sat down on the sidelines now and Harold took the lead in providing a running commentary, like he was an announcer at a football game.  Roy stepped back to let his son and his best friend have some fun.  He had already shot two loads into this black bitch...

“Lookit, the slut is taking the big one deep.  It’s pretty disgusting Dwight, isn’t it, seeing a nigger cum slut gobblin’ so many white dicks, especially when she’s the mother of a kid in your school.”

“You’re right,” said Dwight, playing along. “She’s showing she’s a real pro, when it’s fourth and one!”

When Ryan got the head of his dick in her mouth and when she began sucking him wetly and he got the rhythm just right, his orgasm exploded!

“Oh SHIT...OH SHIT,” he groaned as his cock began spurting his load of pearly cum right into Michelle’s hot, wet, sloppy mouth.

“OH SHIT...THAT’S NICE...OH SHIT,” he went on and on as she kept sucking him while his ejaculation continued...

When he pulled out, he smiled at Lloyd, as if to say, ‘ok bro, you won...now fill her mouth too.’  Lloyd really worked her mouth...getting it all the way to the opening of her throat.

“Suck it, nigger gutter slut,” he barked at her.

With her hot mouth engulfing his cock, it reached its full erect size, and taking the whole thing became a challenge for Michelle.  He sadistically kept forcing it all the way to the opening of her throat - past the back of her tongue and this made her gag over again and again.

She coughed and gaged and he took it out to let her get a breath.  With her eyes tearing, her nose running and her mouth salivating like crazy, Michelle was just a compliant suck puppet now. 

Whenever he went slow, she could handle it and only gag a little.  But when he began face-fucking her fast, hard and deep, he made her drool and gag, cough and sputter.  Michelle’s throat muscles tightened involuntarily every time she felt his cock touch the back of her tongue.  She struggled mightily to control her gag reflex.   Michelle felt like she was going to choke.  Her throat tightened up.  Her nose ran from the gagging and tears dripped down her cheeks.  She was drooling madly; her saliva dripped down her chin to wet her tits...

Soon, the others noted that her pussy was very wet and had begun to drool down her thighs.  With both hands on his hips she tried to hold him back…she banged on him with her balled fists to make him slow down.  Lloyd stopped only for a moment; then he resumed reaming her.  Michelle tried not to gag, but couldn’t swallow it all, so it just dribbled and ran from her lips and down her chin, wetting her tits.  She was a sloppy mess.Lloyd, fully erect, had the biggest cock of the four boys.  Whenever she gagged, it made her whole body convulse embarrassingly and she farted. 

It was very degrading and humiliating.  She worried she might wet herself too.  His hands were tangled in her hair.  This, too, only seemed to inflame him as he pushed his cock into her throat.  Then, something snapped in Michelle and she just went limp like a doll.  Soon, with her lips wrapped around his shaft and her tongue on the underside, Lloyd felt the tickle that told him he was almost at his precious moment. 

His hips did a little jig, his breathing became labored, he began to grunt, and then he rammed his cock in deep and held it there.  Michelle gagged but Lloyd wanted to degrade her some more, so as he began spurting, he pulled out and squirted his sperm all over her gasping, sputtering face. The others applauded.

“Now, thank everybody for what they gave you, slut,” Roy said to her.

Being degraded and then forced to “thank” them for what they did to her was extremely humiliating.

“Please don’t make me do that,” she begged.

Roy had to slap her around a bit, but, in the end, she thanked each white boy for his “present”.

“Thank you for cumming in my mouth,” she said.

She felt sick...

“Tell the boys what you are,” Roy commanded.

“Wha...what?”

“Tell them that you’re a nigger gutter slut,” he said simply.

She couldn’t.  Being degraded was bad enough. Being forced to label herself...call herself names, she balked.  She compressed her lips and wrapped her arms around herself.

“Boys, slap the bitch’s tits,” Roy suggested.

He supervised Dwight and Harold holding her by her arms.  And then he got Lloyd and Ryan to give her sickening little smacks across her nipples.

They started out tentatively, but soon, were really giving her big jugs hard slaps.  The sound, on her meaty tits, echoed thru the room.

Michelle moaned and cried out each time their big youthful, hard hands made contact. 

SMACK...SMACK...SMACK.  Left and right, the boys took turns hitting her fun bags.  Michelle began groaning in pain.  Roy came over, at one point, and grabbed her big black nipples. 

He pinched and pulled on them until she cried out, “OH, GOD, that’s hurts...oh God...OH...OH!”

Then he let the two boys slap her tits silly. Each cuff, each wallop had its effect and soon, Michelle, began whimpering, “oh GOD...yes...I’m a slut.”

“Tell me you’re a nigger gutter slut,” Roy barked at her!

“I...I’m...a...n...n...nigger...gutter slut,” she cried.

With a nod from Roy, the boys let her go.  She fell over on the carpet and began sobbing.

Then they all took a break.  Michelle lay there whimpering on her side on the floor curled up in a fetal position.  The others ignored her and began talking about an upcoming hunt Roy had planned.

“Boys, it’s time to fuck the nigger bitch,” Roy announced.

They got her on her knees and Roy finger fucked her to get her warmed up.  He worked his fingers into her one by one.  When he had three in her, he turned his hand down and frigged her G-Spot and urethral sponge like a demon until poor Michelle began yelping and wriggling so much that two of them had to hold her.

Each new violation was more humiliating than the last one. Each was designed to break her down.  She began praying for a miracle; some way out of this hell.  She had to bite her lip from calling out to Jesus as Roy continued to worm his fingers in her. When he pressed on her urethra on the front wall of her vagina, her urge to urinate became overwhelming. 

She was afraid she would piss herself. Each palpation and probing produced more arousal. He worked her vagina thoroughly and when he put his thumb on her clitoris, she felt herself being pushed further towards an unwanted orgasm. But then he took his finger from her pussy and forced it into her anus.

Roy kept it up until he made her spurt. The boys hooted and hollered as her pussy went ballistic and began jetting clear, sweet pussy juice.He was relentless and despite every effort on her part to control herself, he made her have a very wet orgasm.  Against her will, her hips began rocking and rolling.  When she came, she cried out and squirted; and as he kept stimulating her she pissed and pissed.  It splashed all over the the place dripped down onto the carpet.  Roy berated her mercilessly.

“You dirty, filthy whore,” he yelled at her.

“Say, I’m a dirty, filthypiss whore,” he spat at her.

“I...I...I’m...a dirty...whore,” she said, sadly.

He slapped her again.  He held his hand up, threatening her…

“Are you a dirty, filthy piss whore and a disgustingnigger gutter slut?”

She looked at his hand like it was a snake and hesitated, but only for a moment.

“N…no,” she said softly.

So, he smacked her again. 

“Uhhh…ohhh…please...please don’t hit me any more…”

“Are you my dirty, nigger slut?”

“Y…Y…Yes.”

“When I ask you a question, you say, ‘YES SIR!’ Understand?”

“Yes, Sir!”

He hit her one more time.

“So you remember next time,” he told her.

He’d beaten her into submission; and thoroughly enjoyed the look on her face. She was now in his grip and the tyranny of her own body’s responses. For Roy, he enjoyed the feel of her fear and submission.  A hot, sick feeling overcame her at the thought that she was helpless to prevent them from forcing pleasure from between her legs – from having their way with her.

She was going to be raped again and there was nothing she could do about it.  The thought was horrifying and arousing. It was guilt producing and sickening at the same time. She felt herself sliding down a muddy cliff.

As he made her spread her legs open wider, he got behind her and took his cock out.  He looked over at the boys and said, “I’ll start the ball rolling...and then you young studs can fuck the shit out of her.”

Exciting sensations began to sweep thru her loins as he dilated her sexhole.  Her pussy clung to his cock. She felt him thrust into her. She looked back over her shoulder at him and without conscious thought her pussy squeezed his dick. To her shame the muscles in her vagina squeezed him. She tried to bring her body under control. Then, she looked over at the boys. They were grinning or laughing at her triumphantly.

Embarrassed at her loss of control, she flushed under their gaze. Then Roy put his hands on hip bones; getting a firm grip - he chuckled and started thrusting into her hard.  This time firmly holding her butt-cheeks to keep her in position, he pushed deeper.  He loved the glove-like grip on his cock as it pushed past her cervix and worked his way into her epicenter.

“Ooooooh...oh God,” she moaned again as he thrust into this unused center of her being.

He reached up, grabbed her straightened black hair and jerked her head back. It hurt, but sent further powerful surges thru her loins.  She convulsively squeezed his cock with her sheath again. She felt the slap of his balls against her asshole and knew it was all inside her.

“It’s in all the way slut.  Now...I’m gonna fuck the shit out of you.”

She moaned at this.  And then he started to fuck her harder. She began grunting and then moaning like a bitch in heat as he pulled it almost all the way out and then just rammed it back in. His hips humped jerkily between her splayed thighs. He savored the feeling of conquest.  He gripped her hip and took his pleasure, thrusting and driving deep…deeper…enjoying the exquisite pleasure of her, hot, wet, nigger vagina. Her excited grunts, groans and cries betrayed her reaction beneath him as she shook and writhed.

“OH God, please no more,” she begged.

He laughed and kept thrusting.

“Oh please...no.”

He kept fucking her hard, making her writhe and moan. She felt swept away and there was no stopping him. Then an orgasm overwhelmed her; she jerked and throbbed in spasms; she was shocked and disbelieving this could be happening to her. At this point, she found her pussy was convulsively and instinctively squeezing his cock. He had made her cum. He had ridden her to a deep vaginal-uterine orgasm.

“Open your dirty mouth,” he said to her.

Humiliated, she shuffled over on her knees to get between his thighs. He made her clean his dirty cock.  There was a slimy coating all over his dick.  She had to use her lips and tongue and clean him of their combined fuck juices.  Afterwards, she tried to lay down.  Her pussy was fully exposed in this position.  Her hairy cunt with its prominent labia and a big clitoris glistened in the light.

Then, the boys dropped their shorts to reveal their four cocks.  Michelle alternated with closing her eyes and sneaking glances at their cocks as they were revealed.  She groaned as he saw what was coming and was helpless...so helpless to prevent it.

Already hard, their dicks pointed up.  Michelle licked her lips nervously.  Ryan came over and began to grab and squeeze her tits.  He took his time as he mauled her tits.  Harold and Dwight stared at her wet labia, glistening Ryan forced two fingers inside her sexhole. 

He rooted around, exploring the size and feel of her hole.  It was obvious she didn’t need any lubrication.  When he pulled his fingers out, they were connected to Michelle’s sex hole by long thick strings of vaginal mucus. 

‘Please…Please…OH JESUS…please….don’t do let them do this to ME.  PLEASE don’t let the boys sex me. PLEASE’, she prayed silently to herself. 

“Notice how hard their cocks are, Ms. Jeffers,” Roy taunted her.  “Ask them to fuck you, slut.”

“OH...GOD NO...PLEASE DON’T DO THIS,” Michelle wailed!

“I’ll bet it makes your hot nigger cunt wet as the boys get their young whitecocks ready to fuck you like a slut you are, Ms. Jeffers,” Roy said mocking her.  The cruel detective sat like a wraith on the couch and kept taunting her...trying to cause her as much mental pain as possible.

“Lookit how wet your cunt is already -  drippin’.  Look at that!”        

       

Ryan took his turn fucking Michelle.  He kept her bent over with her elbows on the coffee table and her head between her hands.  Her piss flaps glistened wetly in the overhead light partly hidden by the thick mat of kinky black pubic hair guarding her nest.  She began to moan.  The boy’s hard cock went in deep and he took his time to work her cunt with it.  Michelle’s moans were keyed to what he did to her with his cock.  When he forced it in deep, she groaned.

When he pounded her fast and hard, the 40 year old mother began to gasp and pant.  Ryan soon came in Michelle’s pussy and kept his cock deep in her sheath to trap his load.  Michelle was sweating and moaning when he pulled his big dick out.  Then she closed her thighs and put her knuckle up against her mouth, to bite on it aimlessly.  She seemed to be in another world.  He brought his slimy genitalia around to her face.

“Clean it,” he said to her simply.

He made her use her mouth to clean his dick, balls, and inner thighs of all traces of sweat, semen and her vaginal secretions, just like Roy did.  Then Lloyd started in on her.

When Ryan had her cleaning his cock, Lloyd moved between her legs and took his turn.  When he finished dumping his load of semen into her cunt he came over to have his cock and balls cleaned.

Harold watched wide-eyed as Lloyd scooped out some of his and Ryan’s cum with his fingers from her pussy.  He grabbed her by the hair and made her open her mouth; then he wiped the semen on her tongue and then suck his fingers clean. 

Soon, fat Harold got his small uncircumcised cock in Michelle’s pussy and was pounding away.  After Harold, big Dwight got his chance to fuck her. Over and over Michelle had to take one cock after another. This was etching the worst horror on her mind – feeling the boys fuck her and feeling her body respond. 

It was as if she was, in some weird way, hungry for more humiliation.  Soon, Michelle was fuck happy.  They had worked her into such a state that she cried out for more, screaming in sheer uncontrolled lust.

“Fuck me.  Fuck me.  Fuck me.  FUCK ME...FUCK ME! CUM IN MY PUSSY...I’m cumming...I’M CUMING...I’M CUMMING!”

Michelle was kept on her belly or on her back.  Her pussy became so sloppy with semen, that Lloyd and Ryan when they stepped up for their turn, wiped her off, before they would put their cocks in her.  They used her panties for this and each time they used it to clean her pussy, it became more soaked and disgusting.

Roy finally stuffed the nasty, soiled garment in her mouth.  Each of the boys used their cell phone cameras to snap Michelle “pulling the train”.  None of their faces would ever appear. Roy hovered about, making sure of that...But when the day was over, there was a whole new album of “dirty pictures” starring prim, proper 40 year old Michelle Jeffers.

The boys stood around and critiqued each other’s performance.  Or cheered their pals on, especially when one of them made her cum or humped her like a demon.  And, Michelle came frequently, as they took turns with her.  Much to her shame...They were teenagers and their balls were full.  So much testosterone. 

Ryan and Lloyd fucked her from behind with her bent over the coffee table.  Dwight and Harold pushed her to the divan and fucked her with her legs on their shoulders.  Sometimes, when she came, her pussy squirted and sprayed her juices. 

It was a very humiliating gang rape.  They were rough and pulled and pushed her around like a doll.  Ryan and Lloyd fucked her liked they hated her.  When it was over, she lolled around like a beached whale...soaked and drenched in sweaty exhaustion on the carpet soiled with her urine. 

She whimpered, opening and closing her legs, as her cunt spasmed and drooled its pearly load.  Her kinky pubic hair was lathered with her sweat, her pussy juices (she had squirted several times) and semen. All over her inner thighs and some of the mess had run down her ass crack.  She was a sloppy whore...

“Now, thank the boys,” Roy told her. 

He coerced her into thanking each one of them.  She had to shuffle around on her knees and give each one of their soft cocks a sweet, respectful kiss before Roy tossed her own clothes at her, minus her ruined bra. She sobbed softly as she dressed in their presence. He didn’t let her clean herself so when she put on her own panties, it trapped the cum leaking from her hole.  He took “maid’s” panties that they had use to wipe her cunt and put them in a baggie.

Roy drove her home.  She sat there in his sedan in a fog.  At one point before they got on Highway 30, he took out the soiled panties and put on her head and pulled them down over her face, so that her nose and mouth were in the crotch. 

“So, nobody sees you on the way home, slut,” he said to her cruelly.

Michelle wanted to die.  It was the final humiliation. She was grudgingly grateful for it because it enabled her to disguise her identity, or at least hide her shame and embarrassment in the absurdly delusional “comfort” of having something to cover her face (like a child who’s embarrassed and covers her face with her hands, though, practically speaking, this accomplishes little).

Mercifully, he let her take them off when they got to her house.  So ended the day’s ordeal.  It was the beginning of a debasing, complicated and life-changing relationship - a story without a happy ending.  When she got home, it was about 5pm.  She had been at the Bennett house since noon.

“Now, Michelle, you don’t worry about a thing.  Your dirty pictures are safe with me.  Provided you do as your told,” he said to her coolly. “You know, you’re never gonna be the same again,” he said to her.

Michelle nodded. She looked at him and hated him at that moment, but made sure not to do anything to show disrespect.  She was learning her place...

Brian was there when she got home, but other than calling out to him, she made sure to avoid him. Michelle went to her bathroom, locked the door and stared at herself in her mirror. She wasn’t sure who the woman was who stared back at her.  She took a long, hot shower and brushed her teeth and gargled mouthwash and still felt filthy.

Andsore…sore like a…used whore…a ‘nigger whore’…a ‘nigger gutter slut’ who’d cum over and over again being used by a white man and four white boys…boys who were here, in her home, with her son when she’d left.  She couldn’t face her son now and didn’t know what she’d do when she saw the boys again, which she knew she would. She was had just wrapped the towel around her when she heard her son outside her door calling out to her, asking about dinner. She opened the door just enough to hand him money and tell him to order a pizza. 

She told him she didn’t feel good and was going to bed, then shut the door and went to bed.  She felt sick, sore, tired, hopeless, restless… But, after no sleep the night before, she fell into a troubled sleep.  She woke up the next morning, naked, sweaty and groggy at first, then disgusted when noticed her hand between legs clutching her gooey, smelly crotch.  She got up, muscles and orifices feeling sore and used, and went back into the shower, knowing she still wouldn’t feel clean… ever again.

Chapter 4

Pete

Now that Roy had a blackmail strangle hold on Michelle, he was going to enjoy it to the max.  He found her big ass and prim demeanor like catnip.  To really degrade her was his plan.  He had been filled with anger after a life that, to him, was peopled with smart-assed college-educated liberals.  All telling him that he was a barbarian, a troglodyte. 

And the worse offenders, in his mind, were the black women, like Oprah Winfrey.  Taking full advantage of the social currents which enshrined feminism and racial equality, they had risen until the White House itself had a black woman as “First Lady”.  In Roy’s mind the world had gone crazy.

But, he was about to take his revenge. He was gonna build himself a nigger gutter slut out of a woman like the “First Lady”.  A sex slave whose body would betray her.  Because, as Roy believed, no white woman could cum like a nigger gutter slut. And he was gonna prove it.  He knew her job put her in a straitjacket. 

As the Chief Administrator of St. Luke’s Children’s Hospital, she had to be above reproach.  Now, in the privacy of his own home, for his son (and all their friends by golly!) he was gonna train this bitch in every way his evil mind could devise…Continue her training really.  He’d gotten a good start with her already with the boys.  Shit, she was a slutty nigger bitch too, he thought, recalling how she’d cum so hard so many times.  A nigger gutter slut, to be sure, but she still had a ways down to go, and he’d take there.

And he had a lot of ideas.  And then from his son, he discovered that Michelle had a nubile, hot daughter, a carbon copy of Mama. His mouth watered at the prospect of ensnaring her in his schemes too.  He pressed Lloyd to swipe a picture of her for his perusal.  When he saw that photo of Akeema, he got instant “wood”.  Damn, these nigger bitches were gonna be better for him than Viagra®!

He decided that either Saturday or Sunday was gonna be his day to continue training Michelle…

For her part, after the five hours she’d spent at his house, Michelle had tried to come to grips with her situation.  She knew it made no sense to go to the police.  After all, Roy was the police.  She had no real evidence.  She’d deleted his emails that Friday night.  She was so paranoid about someone finding them on her hard drive, that she got rid of them.  He had the originals and now he and the boys had lots of new pictures showing her behaving like a total slut. 

She kept turning the situation over in her mind.  What could she do to regain some dignity, restore stability to her life, re-discover some sliver of self-respect. Part of her knew that what was in her own mind was her greatest enemy. She knew she’d never get over the embarrassment, debasement and shame of it all.  Most shameful was how hopelessly, helplessly aroused by she’d gotten by her humiliation and degradation.

She had repressed the molestation by her mother’s boy friend when she was a teen.  The horror of being masturbated to orgasm during that ordeal and the degradation of having had orgasms when she was raped had a deeply repressing effect on her.  After the rape, she did not masturbate.  She reluctantly had sex with her husband, not often - and never had orgasms.  It had damaged her fragile sexual self image. To be subjected to a sexually humiliating situation reinforced her helplessness.  She felt like a puppet with total loss of control; her body no longer belonged to her, but to somebody else.

This was what Roy and the boys had aroused in her. The woman’s body often reacts to stimulus whether her mind wants it too or not. This is the reason why many victims have orgasms while being raped. Not only do they have the feeling of complete loss of control, but their bodies react to the stimulus and this causes additional mental pain.

Michelle ended up thinking, ‘there must be something wrong with me to climax while I’m being raped’.  The humiliation and shame she felt when she was molested and raped at sixteen stayed with her. Her mother’s boyfriend told her that she would never be the same again.  So had Roy.

A few days went by and then he called her on her cell phone.  She froze when she heard his voice.

“Michelle, I want you at my house on Saturday.  Report to me by 10am. Here’s the address...write it down.”

Michelle found herself trying to tell him that she had plans (she didn’t) and that she didn’t have a pen. He ignored both stalls and repeated his instructions. Then he made her repeat them back to him, as if she was a child, even called her  ‘lil’ niglet’ and made her call him ‘Massa.’  She found this very demeaning and degrading.

When she put down the phone, she realized miserably, that’s what she was, a helplessly degraded  ‘lil’ niglet’  and that’s what he was, her ‘Massa.’ She shook her head, feeling so helpless and vulnerable that tears came to her eyes.

Michelle worked that week in a semi-trance.  She was having a very hard time adjusting to her new reality.  She nodded to staff and had a quick conversation about changes being mandated by the new budgets.  Her friend and colleague, Karen, had noted a change in her that week and came over solicitously, more than once, to inquire if she was “OK”.

Karen Collins was Michelle’s protégé.  She joined both the department and ended up under Michelle’s wing.  Although she was white and nearly a decade younger than Michelle, and the two women became close friends.As soon as Michelle put down the phone, Karen knocked on her door and entered.

“Hey, how are you doing today, girl,” she asked?

“Uh...OK...fine.”

“So, you think it’s doable living with the new mandated budget,” Karen asked?

“OH...not a problem...not really.”

“You seem so distracted lately Michelle.  Everything OK at home?

“Oh...yeah.”

“Is Brian still giving you grief about his video game thing?”

“OH...yeah...what else is new.  No, but it’s not that,” Michelle said...her voice trailing off...

“Well, you just seem a little out of it.  If you need me to talk to, just call....OK?”

“Thanks. I will.” 

Karen patted her hand reassuringly.   Michelle smiled warmly at her and then dove back into paperwork. 

On the other side of town, Roy sat having coffee and a donut with his partner, Pete Simmons.

“How’s the bitch doin’”, asked Pete?

He was referring to Roy’s American Bulldog breeding female.  Roy had mated her and she was pregnant.

“Yeah, she’s fine,” he drawled.

Actually, Roy had another bitch in mind.  He had really enjoyed what he’d been able to do with Michelle on Saturday.  And he was planning to put her thru her paces in a few days. He looked over at his partner.

“Hey, I got somethin’ cookin’ over at my place this weekend.  You free Saturday morning?”

“Uh...yeah. I can put the wife off on her ‘honey do’ list. Whaddya got goin’?  You wanna do a little shootin’?”

“Hmmm...I got sumptin’ special.  I think you’ll like it.”

Come Friday, Michelle was in a tizzy.  She couldn’t get it out of her mind that the next day she was going to be back at Roy’s house.  She wanted to start biting her nails, she was so nervous.  She looked at her manicured nails, painted red, and distracted, found herself thinking back to the image of her holding onto Roy’s knees after he’d whipped her. And the soul-shattering image of him spitting in her face. 

And then the picture of her gagging as she was face-fucked...or even worse...being made to cum...to squirt like a carnival whore!  ‘OH GOD’, she thought to herself.

That night, she hugged Brian and he was a bit “freaked out” by the affection Mom showered on him.

“Bri...you love me, right,” she asked?

“Uh...yeah...sure Mom. What’s up with that,” he asked defensively?

“You’re not gonna give me a whole lecture about my video games again...or my friends, are you?”

“No, sweetheart, I just...uh...wanted you to say...uh...you love me and...uh...that you...uh...respect me,” she stammered.

“Sure,” he said pulling away from her grasp. 

Michelle took a sleeping pill so she could get a full night’s sleep.  She knew she was going to need it.  The next morning she fed Brian and then after checking up with him on his schedule for the day, she headed out.  As she drove, she felt her mouth dry.  She was very nervous. She hadn’t gotten any specific instructions from Roy as to what she should wear and in a defensive move, she had worn her best, go-to-the-mall casual clothes.  A grey straight skirt, dark navy blue low heels, a peach-colored, V-neck, Mohair sweater and her gold and chrome Rolex watch.

She had showered, put on her best perfume and carefully applied her make-up.  She knew in her bones, that she would be treated in such a way that all of that was for naught, but she had to do what she always did. She had to try and maintain her essential dignityand poise as a woman, a person.

The ten miles she had to drive went quickly.  There were fewer people on the road on a Saturday morning compared to the drive times during the work week.  She soon arrived at Roy’s house. She felt butterflies in her stomach and to distract herself, she studied the house more closely.

The older wood house was painted brown and light green with a heavily shingled roof. There was a long, covered porch on the front of the house, and hedges and bushes lined both sides of the lot.  The grass seemed like it had “gone to seed” and was in need of mowing.  There was Roy’s now familiar sedan parked in the driveway along with a Ford pick-up truck.  The sound of dogs could be heard coming from somewhere behind the house.

Michelle parked in the driveway behind the truck and got out.  As soon as she started to walk towards the porch, Roy emerged carrying a coffee cup and just behind him was another man.  This man was perhaps ten years younger. He had a thick moustache` and was several inches shorter and thirty pounds lighter.  This was Roy’s partner, Pete Simmons.  Roy brought him up to speed by showing him the pictures and telling him how he’d been able to snare the stupid black bitch.

He promised Pete that this was gonna be one of the best Saturday outings he’d had in months, if not years.  Already, the man was salivating as he watched the 5’6” 140lb. heavy-breasted black woman approach.

“Shit, man, she’s a hot load,” Pete said admiringly. “You weren’t shittin’ me man. She’s somethin’ else...

“You...aint...seen...nothing...yet,” Pete said slowly for emphasis.

“Good morning, Michelle,” Roy said affably.

Michelle nodded and didn’t say anything. She was so ready to have him pounce on her that his good manners threw her off.

“This is my partner, Pete.  Pete, say hello to my maid Michelle.”

“Hey there, Michelle,” said Pete grinning like a Cheshire cat.

“Hi.”

“Get your ass inside, bitch,” Roy finally hissed at her.

And Michelle felt the butterflies in her tummy go wild. It was beginning...

Roy took her elbow when she was on the porch and steered her into the house.  Michelle felt herself trying to stand up and show some spirit and dignity in front of this new man.  He seemed like just another “bubba”, a blue-collar, work-a-daddy.  She imagined he was married and this was his morning to get away from the little woman.  Michelle could picture her as a frowsy, overweight bottle blonde. She felt her mind was sharp as she processed all these thoughts...

Roy pulled her down.  He had laid out her “maid’s” costume on the divan. He had obviously shown it to his partner.  She gulped as she looked at it again.  ‘Did I actually have that on last week’, she wondered?

It was so vulgar and vile. Michelle didn’t know what to do with her hands now and clutched at her purse.  She felt like she was on the edge again; and she had that feeling in her stomach that she got whenever she was on the Ferris Wheel when she was a child.

“Come here,” Roy ordered her.

Michelle walked over like she was sleepwalking.

“Are you my nigger, gutter slut,” he asked her?

She looked over at Pete, who had himself perched on the arm of the divan. Then she looked back at Roy and in a thick voice, said, “yes.”

“Good girl...good ‘lil’ niglet.  Now, pull up your sweater and show Pete your fat titties.”

Like a sleepwalker, Michelle did what she was told.  She belonged to “Massa” now.  Pete whistled when he saw her big, D-cup titties. 

“Now, pull your bra up to your neck, nigger so Pete can see your black nipples.”

Michelle reached down and grasped the bottom of her cups and pulled up and got her bra to the top of her chest. 

“Now, walk around.”

Michelle paraded around at his command. 

“Jump up and down and show us your fat floppy tits.”

Like a puppet she did what she was told. 

“Now, pull up your skirt.”

It was a struggle.  The straight skirt was fairly tight, but in the end she got it up to expose her cream colored nylon bikini cut panties.  Roy made her walk around with her panties around her knees and the awkwardness of her position made her look foolish.  She stumbled around the room. 

When she didn’t move fast enough for Roy, he scolded her and gave her a swat on the ass.  It was like she was a child.  Of course, this is how whites related to blacks for one hundred years following the War between the States.  They treated them like children...child-like, feeble-minded, easily entertained and entertaining.

The implications were not lost on Michelle.  The more that Roy pushed her down the status ladder the more she was overwhelmed.  Each indignity made her more submissive and hotter.  Soon, it was apparent that she was getting wet between her legs.

“Come here, slut,” Roy said to her.

When she was standing right in front of him, he pointed out to Pete that her cunt was wet and slippery. 

“Lookit, Pete, here,” he said pointing to the crotch of her panties bunched up around her knees.

“The wet spot...see it? The bitch has been creaming her panties...probably on the drive over here. Haven’t you bitch,” he demanded of her.

Michelle lowered her eyes and said nothing. In truth, her pussy was swollen, hot and wet. As Roy verbally abused her, she was becoming more excited.  She hated herself for it, but there seemed nothing she could do to stop herself. She bit her lip and silently cursed herself for her weakness.

“It makes it easier for her to walk with those ‘thunder thighs’ all wet and squishy,” Roy declared. Pete began chuckling.

In truth, he was getting pretty hot himself.  He was content to let his partner, however, set the pace.  Obviously, Roy had her under his thumb, and she was going to perform for them like a trained animal. Little did Michelle know how much of an analogy a “trained animal” was...soon, Roy would take her down the status ladder from house maid to something less than human.  Michelle had no idea how perverted Roy was...

Roy then decided it was time for her to take all her clothes off. The two men sat down and Roy took out a bottle of peach schnapps for them and poured both of them a shot.  Michelle stood between the coffee table and the fireplace and took off her sweater, her bra, her skirt, her slip, her panties and then her shoes.

“Jump up and down, nigger,” Roy told her.

They watched her ample tits jiggle, sway and bob as she did as he commanded.  Then Roy made her squat up and down, spreading her legs as she did so...Next, Roy put on some music.

“Jigaboo music...”

“Let’s see you dance, nigger.Jiggaboo boogaloo,” he chuckled.

He made her dance. When she didn’t show enough “boogaloo”, he slapped her on her fat booty.  When she still didn’t show enough “nigger rhythm”, he slapped her tits this way and that until she groaned in sheer agony.  Then he went to the desk and pulled out big paper clasps, the kind made from black sheet metal.  He made her stand still and then he opened them up in turn and fastened them to her big, black nipples.  Poor Michelle groaned in agony as the clasps were large and strong.  Then he made her dance again...

“All you niggers know how to dance.  Let’s see you shake that booty.”

Other than dancing for the boys at Roy’s insistence the week before, Michelle had not danced for years.Roy kept her at it making her spread her legs and shake her tits and ass.  The pain in her nipples had her shaking her ass, but trying to keep her tits from bobbing and swaying too much.  She looked like a comic howling dervish, as her hips and ass seemed to be on fire, while she struggled mightily to keep her titties still.  And the pain made her wail!

“That’s it you dirty nigger slut...shake that fat ass of yours.  Show us what you got.”

The mental pain...produced by image, in her mind’s eye, of her dancing naked for these two white men, made her cringe.  There was nothing she could do except perform like a puppet.

She felt sick when Pete said, “lookit the coon, presentin’ herself like a fuckin’ baboon in heat.”

If Michelle thought or hoped that Pete would behave like a decent human being, this comment destroyed any hopes she had.  But since she was doing “dirty dancing” buck naked...any hopes she had for decent treatment was a moot point.

“You’re fuckin’ lazy...I give you the opportunity to show us your stuff and you’re doggin’ it.  I’m gonna give you a whippin’ slut. Get your ass over here.”

He directed her to stand behind an overstuffed chair.  He whipped out his handcuffs and pulling her arms behind her he cuffed her wrists. He made her bend over the chair. This position put her head close to the seat and her feet were off the floor. 

Then, Roy took off his belt.  He slowly drew the flat, gleaming leather through his fingers, and then doubled it, making it “crack” sharply as it pulled tight. Holding the belt in his right hand, he slowly stroked her taut spread buttocks and upper thighs.  Her sharp intake of breath at the touch of his hand was exciting to both men. Pete was overwhelmed at the submissive position Michelle had been put into…and her whimpering reaction was erotic catnip to the young detective. 

Roy whipped her thoroughly on her butt cheeks and the back of her thighs…making her cry out, groan…moan, squeal and finally shriek as the flesh became sore. He beat her methodically…bending over periodically to whisper something in her ear…then resuming the strapping. When he was done, her bottom was hot and tender; it looked like a raw side of beef…

She moaned, whimpered and begged for mercy. Roy’s response was to bring out his police baton.

“Lookit the bitch’s hot pussy,” he said to Pete.

In her bent over position, her pussy was exposed.  Her hairy pulpy lips were spread and Pete could see lot’s of “pink”.  He came over to examine her, like she was a heifer in a stall. Michelle felt him getting his face close to her most precious part.  He looked over at Roy for approval, and then began to touch her.  He ran his finger all along her swollen labia and then her big clitoris peeking out of its protective hood.

As he got into it, Michelle moaned. He ran his finger over and around the distended tip of her clit, encouraging it. As he fondled her, Michelle’s vagina drooled more. 

“Smell the bitch. She’s drippin’,” Pete said to Roy.

“This whore loves it all,” Roy said.  “Watch this,” he said as he hefted his baton. This was hisMonadnock PR-24 Expandable Baton®.  The handle was ribbed and crowned with a knob and this is what he put at the entrance to Michelle’s pussy hole.

“Open up, slut,” he said to her as he worked it into her hole.  The baton was in its closed state so, the long portion was the same length, midway between the handle.  The knob at the end of the handle was big and as he pushed to work it into her pussy, Michelle grunted with the intrusion.

“OH, God,” she moaned.

“No problem, slut. It’s gonna go in all the way,” he said as he pushed and pressed it in.  Michelle groaned more as the full dimensions of the handle entered her vagina and stretched her hole.

When he was done, Roy had the whole handle in her sex hole.  And the baton itself, at a 90 degree angle to the handle protruded obscenely from between her cheeks and thighs.  Roy worked it in and out a bit, fucking her with it.  As he did so, he turned to his partner.

“Get your dick sucked, partner. Just put your cock by her mouth and tell her, ‘giddyap’!”

Pete needed no encouragement.  He skedaddled over to stand in front of her.  He unzipped his trousers and pulled his cock out.  He lifted Michelle by her shoulders to bring her up to the right height.  He presented his dick to her.

She looked at it and groaned.  He had a long, slim, uncircumcised cock with an angry, large purple head.  He fisted it and soon, a drop of clear pre-cum appeared.

“Suck it, slut,” he said to her.

She had to open her mouth.  She took him in and began to suck on his penis sweetly.  He moaned as he was very hot and her mouth, with her thick, “negroid” lips sliding up and down his shaft to grip his fat purple cockhead, had him super very excited.

“Oh shit,” he crooned.

Roy, with the baton in Michelle’s cunt, chuckled as the looked at the way it sat, with the handle in her hole and the perpendicular shaft ready to be spun like the blades of a propeller.  He took ahold of the shaft with two hands and began pumping the handle in and out of her pussy, making her grunt with each stroke.  Each time he did that she convulsively gulped and swallowed, giving Pete a new thrill each time.

They worked as a team until Roy got the urge to put his big cock in place of the baton. He pulled it out and it came free with a “pop”.  Then he unzipped and pulled out his dick. He rubbed it up and down the wet seam of her pussy, getting the head of his cock nice and wet.  When he could no longer stand it, he worked it in with a moan emitting from his lips.

Now, they pushed and pulled on her using her mouth and cunt to the max.  Pete was far gone and with his ass twitching held onto her head by her ears and worked the head of his bloated cock just an inch in and out of her mouth. 

He went, “oh, oh, oh.” And came with a roar, “OH SHIT, OH SHIT MAN!”

Michelle gulped and swallowed as he spurted a half dozen times filling her mouth with his seed. She had her tongue on the underside and without her conscious effort, she wriggled the flat, pink organ back and forth along his sensitive frenulum, driving Pete crazy.

“OH, SHIT...OH SHIT, OH LORD, OH SHIT THAT’S GOOD,” he moaned!

Roy seeing his partner having the time of his life, slowed down and just held his cock inside her.  Michelle’ pussy filled to the max seemed at that point to have a life of its own. The sphincter muscles around the mouth of her hole convulsively clenched at Roy’s thick invader. He could feel he wouldn’t last too long that way. 

So, he made a decision: he pulled out and came around to where Pete had been.  His partner had sat down on the divan and was leaning back enjoying the afterglow of his orgasm.  He watched Roy pull Michelle off the chair and get her on her knees. 

Then he went to work on her mouth...teasing her and assaulting her with his cock.  He made her lick it from his nut sack to the crown, giving it little kisses. When she didn’t do it right, he slapped her face, making her moan submissively.

“Get your mind into it, nigger,” he growled at her. 

Then he made her suck it.  Slow at first, then he pushed it in deeper until it reached the entrance to her throat.

“That’s it nigger, take it down deep. DEEP.”

He wasn’t’ content until he made her gag.  And with each deep penetration Michelle went into sub-space. She hovered on the edge of choking and suffocating.  He eyes teared up so much her mascara ran. Her nose began to run and her mouth got so juicy that soon a thick froth dribbled from her big lips.

Roy face-fucked her until he erupted like a fire hose.  Combined with all the saliva her mouth had defensively been producing, she was a sloppy mess. She swallowed the first spurt, but then he pulled out and sprayed her face. Soon, she was “frosted”.  He wiped up a blob that was ready to fall and smeared it on her lips.  He un-cuffed her.

“Get up and put on your panty maid uniform, slut,” he barked at her.

Michelle did as she was told. Putting on that hated costume humiliated and violated her in the most despicable, unspeakable ways.  All her years of education...all the gains her people had made in the civil rights years melted away when she put on that despicable get-up.

Beyond sexual exploiting her and even victimizing her with rape, the panty maid outfit was about trivializing and fetishizing the traumatizing, dehumanizing ordeals she and other black people had endured and overcome, returning to that debasement, dressing her up, turning it into a form of perverse amusement for her new white ‘massas’ and her into a pathetic joke. 

Most pathetic of all, what she despised most of all, was how aroused she got by their jeering jubilation at her humiliation.Both men watched her.  They enjoyed a drink and watched her degrade herself.  Roy had forbidden her to wipe any semen off her face.  And when she was all suited up, like a marionette, he made her pirouette around the room.

Then Roy had another idea.  He put the cuffs on again, so that her hands were behind her back.  Then he went and got a feather duster.  He made her spread her legs and pulled aside the crotch of her white cotton panties.  He worked the handle of the duster into her still wet pussy.“Now, dust everything in this room,” he said to her laughing.

Michelle had to shuffle around and try, as best she could, to “dust”.  She did the coffee table and then went around to every flat surface to do his bidding. It was even more humiliating.  Dressed as fetishized panty maid, now performing as a household appliance.   When Roy felt this humiliation had run its course, he took off the cuffs and made her bend over with her hands on the coffee table right in front of both of them.  Then he went to work on her pussy.

“Wait till you see how this gutter slut squirts,” is how he put it to Pete.

He then turned her into a “hand puppet”  He used his fingers one-by-one to penetrate her hole.  He pulled on her labia, stretching them out like simple meat flaps...so much that when he called them “hottentot aprons” Pete began laughing. He teased, tickled and tormented her clitoris until it bulged like a shiny, pink jellybean.  Then he worked two and three fingers into her palm down. He found the spot he was looking for and finger banged her until she spurted like a cut artery.

Michelle, who’d been on edge since she drove there, and felt the escalation of her arousal with each new humiliation,finally came like a two-dollar whore.  She grunted, moaned, groaned, whimpered, yelped and finally shrieked as Roy worked her pussy good. When he took his hand out, it was dripping with her pussy juice.

The rest of the afternoon was a blur for Michelle.  They fucked her mouth and cunt until they didn’t want to do it anymore.  The highlight was Roy making her read a racist tract that dissed blacks. Roy subscribed to a number of online racist newsletters. He printed out a particular essay, “Why the Black Man Can’t Compete; the Natural Inferiority of African-Americans”.  He made Michelle sit and read it out loud.

But he insisted she read it aloud in a “Stepin’ Fetchit” voice, like she was some dumb coon.  Whenever her “accent” wavered, he gave her a smack on the back of the head, or even worse, slapped her face.

“You read it like I told you,” he yelled at her. It was very humiliating.

He finally let her go home at 3pm.  Michelle went home and took a shower.  She was grateful that Brian wasn’t at home.  She went to bed, but was so agitated and still aroused, that she masturbated. 

Chapter 5

Anal Slave

A week and half later Roy called and ordered Michelle to come to his house that night.  This was a “school night” and Michelle had wanted to spend some time with Brian.  Instead she had to leave an hour early, go home, grab a bit, change her clothes and then drive to East End.  Roy was waiting and so was his son Lloyd.  The boy hadn’t seen her since that first Saturday and his eyes were shining at the prospect of more time with the hot, black MILF. 

“Well, Brian’s Mommy,” he teased her.

Michelle had changed into slacks and a blouse.  When she when home, she changed her panties substituting white cotton panties for the blue bikinis she had on.  She also wiped her pussy with a sanitary wipe. Lately her vagina had been “weeping” during the day. Perhaps as a result of the sex that had been forced on her.  Now, at the Bennett household, she wondered what father and son had in mind.

They marched her out to the back porch.  There for the first time, she could see the kennel.  Roy had six or seven American Bulldogs at any one time. A breeding bitch and two or three sires that produced good “pig” hunting dogs. There was a big metal wash tub on the porch and hanging from a beam was a big rubber bag trailing a reddish colored tube.

“Take off your clothes, coon. And then I’m gonna want you on your hands and knees, jigaboo – we’re gonna give you an enema.”

“OH, no,” Michelle said without thinking.

“Oh...I see your mind aint right, bitch. Well, I got just the solution for that.”

He advanced on her so quickly that she didn’t have time to react.  He grabbed her by her hair and hauled her out into the yard to a big apple tree.  There was a hook hammered into the trunk up high. He used his handcuffs on her and then hung her from the hook.

Then, with Lloyd watching, he reached around and unbuttoned her slacks. He unceremoniously pulled them down to her knees and then did the same with her white cotton panties.

“Lookit, the coon’s big fat ass, boy. Coon females got the best ass on the planet, son.  Just perfect for the whip.  Go, fetch me my dog whip, Lloyd.”

Michelle winced when she heard that.

“Oh, God...please don’t whip me. I’ll do whatever you want,” she pleaded.

“Oh, yeah...you’re gonna do it all.  ‘Cause I’m gonna get your mind right nigger.”

Lloyd came bounding back holding the whip. Three feet long with a knob and a loop on the handle end, it terminated in a forked tip “cracker”.  As Michelle clenched her big butt cheeks defensively, Roy got behind her.

“Watch this son,” he said to Lloyd.

He then pulled his arm back and Michelle gave an anguished yell. The pain was murderous, a quite different order of magnitude from the being beaten with his belt. Her stricken rear did a frantic dance as he continued. There was no let up in the sickening pain. ..It landed again, like a red-hot iron searing her bottom. A second frantic yelp burst forth as Michelle went into another bottom-wiggling dance. And no wonder for he was whipping her with all his strength.

He gave her eight strokes in all. They were all the same, each one a mind-boggling, hot flame which left a weal across her plump, dark brown flesh. The stripes extended from the crest of her ass to just below the crease separating her cheeks from her thighs. Her nerves were shattered when he was done.  She would have done anything to avoid another blow. When he finished he handed the whip to Lloyd and ran his hand lovingly over her tortured flesh.

“Now, do you want us to give you an enema?”

“Y...yes...Sir,” she moaned. “Just don’t whip me anymore.”

“Don’t whip me anymore, Massa,” he repeated.

He made her say it just like that. Having to call him “Massa” was a true violation for a proud African-American woman.  Michelle could only hope and pray that she would never be forced to degrade herself like that in front of family or friends. It would be too mortifying...

Michelle hadn’t had an enema on a regular basis since her grandmother  gave them to her as a little girl, or when she was in the hospital giving birth to Akeema and Brian.  She groaned and told Roy she was “clean”...that there was nothing up her asshole, but it was no use. He and Lloyd got her up on her hands and knees on a bench on the porch and greased up her anus.  Then Roy brought out a big, black rubber nozzle.  He called it the “black lollipop”.  It was six or seven inches long and bulbous in shape.  

He greased it up and attaching it to the long red, rubber hose, forced the nozzle into her rectum.  As he got it fully seated in her asshole, it pressed on a hot spot in her vagina through the thin membrane separating her rectum from her sex hole - and Michelle, feeling a tingle, whimpered and groaned.  She was afraid she would cum from this sort of treatment…disgracing herself once more.

Roy, seeing how she responded to having something big shoved up her ass, took the nozzle out and reinserted it slowly - making her groan again.  He was having fun with her.  It was easy to humiliate her, toreduce her to a little puppet and degrade her by making her cum.  He would have more fun with this big-titted nigger. 

Michelle fearfully watched Lloyd fill the two-quart rubber bag with hot water. He dumped a load of salt in it too.  Then he hung it up high over her head on a hook on the beam.  Roy grinned at her – and told her to get ready.  Then he opened the clamp and slowly began filling her bowels with hot water.  He pulled and pushed on the nozzle - in effect, fucking her - as the water flowed.   This made her groan. 

Roy grinned at Lloyd. “She likes it up the ass,” he said.

Michelle began moaning as the water stretched her belly and bowels and pressed on the nerves on the front wall of her vagina.  Soon her pussy was “weeping” copiously again, wetting her sex lips and perineum.  The anus and the genitals share a lot of sensitive nerve endings, and the enema was making Michelle react.  

Her sphincters were soon spasming around the thick black nozzle in rhythm with contractions in her vagina.   Both men watched fascinated as the tight muscular ring squeezed the nozzle embedded deep in her rectum.

Michelle, to her horror, was being aroused at this stage.  The distention of her rectum by the water put tremendous pressure on her sex nerves and the sensitive stretch receptors—and this stimulated the sex muscles of her pelvic floor in a very powerful way.   Both men got hard and hot watching her writhing and struggling and seeing her asshole squeeze the nozzle.

It was humiliating, what they were doing to her and she kept her face turned towards the far wall.  This was no casual cleansing.  Roy planned to make hurt.  This was a “torture enema”.  He was going to pump a lot of water into her—as much as her body could handle.  He planned to fill her until she vomited.  He filled her with the first two quarts, and it went pretty quick.

He had Lloyd fill the bag again.  At three quarts, the pain began begin to overwhelm any sexual feelings she had and Michelle began groaning and moaning in pain.  Soon she had taken four full quarts and began to beg pitiably.  Lloyd filled the bag again and now Roy pumped the water in slowly, clamping the hose for longer periods.

“JESUSGOD...please…oh…God. PLEASE...NO MORE...NO MORE...NO MORE...PLEASE...NO MORE...PLEASE!”

When Roy pumped the fifth quart into her bowels, she began gagging and then retching.  He sadistically continued filling her until he made her vomit.  Lloyd got a bucket in front of her mouth in time to catch the torrent.   The vomit contained brown lumps.  

Roy had forced so much water into her that it had gone up past her pyloric valve, up into her stomach.  They made her throw up.  Afterwards, her eyes were red.  She had sobbed some during the ordeal and her chin was wet with drool.  She was a sad sight when it was over. 

Following this, he made her get up to display her huge swollen belly with the nozzle still embarrassingly and debasingly embeddedin her rectum.  Then he and Lloyd had sport with her.  They made her walk around and squat up and down which put a lot of pressure on her asshole.

Lloyd enjoyed watching Brian’s black motheras she clumsily stumbled around and squatted at their command.  He noted her full thighs, big ass, her swollen belly and her grapefruit-sized tits that bobbed and jiggled erotically with their big, brownish-black nipples and saucer-sized areolas.

With about six pounds of water stretching her guts, Michelle began begging to be allowed to shit the enormous load.  Lloyd was amazed at how big her belly had gotten and kept remarking on it. She had taken more than five quarts. Her swollen belly made her look hugely pregnant. Roy finally allowed her to sit on a porcelain chamber pot.  She was sweating and whimpering with the heavy load in her bowels, as he pressed her on her swollen stomach.  It was so humiliating and painful. 

The sounds and odors as she expelled the enema added to her humiliation.  She kept her face covered with her hands and her whimpers added to the symphony of sounds her body was making as she shit.  Michelle had never been so humiliated in her whole life; having to shit in front of two white men.   It was the most degrading, humiliating thing she could have ever imagined as a woman.

Roy examined the contents of the pot when she was done and made fun of her, calling her a “shitty slut”. It was an added degradation. Following this, Roy used some Crisco® to lubricate her shit hole.  Michelle had never been anally penetrated.  She flinched when she felt him preparing her asshole.   He also spit on her anus.  That was another indignity.  In truth, the enema and the grease had her ready to be penetrated. When he was ready, he impaled her easily with his cock.  Lloyd crowded closer, watching his daddy’s cock go into her loosened asshole.  

The expressions on their faces were not the same.  He looked like he was in heaven.  She appeared to be in some pain.  Just like she was giving birth, she panted like a dog as she tried to deal with the invasion of her shit hole.   In a surge of masochism, she let her sphincter relax and accept his full length.

His cock, embedded in her asshole, messed with her mind.  She had never been sodomized before. It was what men did to street whores, in her mind. As Roy forced his way deeper inside her virgin ass, stretching her rectum, Michelle felt as if a baseball bat was being forced up her ass. She groaned in shame and horror...and this only excited him more.  Her body surrendered and she opened up to him totally.  There was no other way...

Her shit hole had loosened and in a few strokes he was fully inside her, up to his pubic hairs.   Her sphincter gripped the base of his cock tightly, squeezing it. As his son watched, Roy began to ride her, moving in and out of her asshole.  Now that he was fully inside her, he gripped her slick, sweaty hips to pull her back onto his hard cock, allowing him to plow her asshole with powerful strokes.  Involuntarily, Michelle cried out, a low constant moan coming from her big lips.

Lloyd saw her hands clench helplessly each time Daddy plowed her.  Her body had gone limp.  Nothing came out of her mouth, just incoherent animal-like sounds, the volume rising and falling in time with Roy’s humping. She was just a female being used...and she yielded totally and completely to that feeling.

Roy continued to sodomize her as Lloyd began clapping his hands in time with his thrusts into her ass hole.  It seemed to her as if it would go on forever.  She felt so helpless as he stayed rock hard stroke after stroke. 

He soon came and grabbed her straightened black hair to force her head to one side, so he could see her face as he filled her ass with his hot cum.  He cried out in triumph as Lloyd praised him for his performance.   Lloyd, impatient now for his turn, tapped him on the shoulder and asked for his place.   The son was just as hard as Daddy.  In a single thrust he impaled Michelle, sinking up to his pubic hairs in her. 

He plowed relentlessly into her wide open ass.  Poor Michelle just made small moaning sounds underneath him.  She could manage nothing more.  Each time he slammed into her, it knocked the wind out of her lungs. 

Unconcerned with her, he took his pleasure quickly and brutally as he could.  Then he too filled her with a flood of hot cum before also collapsing on her sweaty, nude back.  Michelle lost track of time.  It seemed to go on and on. Both men sodomizing her seemed to be one long rape.  The cock became one cock, repeatedly and painfully sodomizing her.  And when they both recovered they each took another turn. Roy rubbed her clitoris while he assfucked her until he’d made her cum.

She experienced a new form of mind-bending impalement, the feeling of having her ass invaded and stretched; this became a new dimension of reality for her. She surrendered to both men and became nothing more than an anal fuck toy.  A new experience for her...

When they were done with her, she felt pain in her shit hole as she lay there on her belly, her mouth open, panting between moans...defiled by their cum and sweat.  Roy began whispering in her ear.  She looked up at the grain of the wood on the porch...her mind blank, exhausted.  Her asshole was raw, open, a bit sore, stretched...An open “O”...A toothless mouth...with semen drooling from it. 

Her next bowel movement would make her remember this violation.  Having to shit hurt a little and she found herself gripping the toilet seat and whimpering as each turd emerged from her asshole.   

Chapter 6

Darlene and Kelly

Darlene Watson was a divorced white woman of 38 years.  She was Harold’s mother; and also had a daughter, Kelly, aged 16.  Darlene had been a cheerleader in high school, but two kids, a bad marriage and other assorted bumps in life’s road had left her griping about the unfairness of it all.  She was also forty pounds heavier than when she was a senior in high school.

She got alimony and child support from her ex-husband, but even with that and her job at the utility company it was never enough.  She was always complaining how the “welfare cheats” and “liberals” had ruined this country for people like her...white people.  In truth, she was no saver and had trouble keeping up with her bills, even though she had enough to support herself and two kids.

Harold was her favorite, because he was so much like her. He even inherited her predilection to gain weight.  Kelly was more like her husband.  She had a mean streak, just like her daddy, Joe. 

Darlene was always fussing with Harold and babied him endlessly.  So, joking around with him after school, while she fed him cookies she’d baked, she discovered that he had a “secret”.  He didn’t want to tell her, but as she teased him, he let out that one of his pal’s dads had gotten them all a “slut” to dip their “wicks” into.

“Does that mean my baby is no virgin,” she asked him chuckling and trying to tickle him by sticking a finger in his ribs.

“Aw, Ma...you aint supposed to joke about that stuff with a guy.  A kid my age...hey...we’ve been around,” he said with a smile. “I’m experienced,” he said laughing.

“Come on...you’re still stuck on that baby cake, Jocelyn...and she aint giving you any.  That girl is gonna wait ‘till she hears wedding bells before she puts out for you, baby boy,” she said.

“No...it aint no white girl Mama...it’s a real woman...an older woman...a black woman.”

Darlene perked up at this.

“What are you talking about?”

“Look, I aint supposed to say anything. I got a pact with my guys. You know how it is for a guy my age...right?”

“Oh, baby, you can tell me. I’m not gonna do anything to lose your trust. You know that.”

Well, after a little more coaxing, Harold tells Mama about Michelle.  Darlene is fascinated and soon a plan hatches in her little mind.  She’d met Roy Bennett. In fact, she’d been attracted to him and since they were both divorced, had fancied a relationship.  But that never happened. In any event, she knew him well enough to call him.  And after Harold had shown her a few pictures of Michelle on his cell phone, she went into action.

She called Roy and asked to meet him for “coffee”.  Sensing a pass from her, he tried to demur, but she finally said, “Look, it’s about Michelle. I want to talk to you about her.”

So, he had no choice. They met at a cheap diner they both knew that afternoon.  Darlene cut right to the chase.  She didn’t object to what Roy had done. She wasn’t remotely interested in creating a fuss. No, she wanted Michelle to play with too.  Roy was blown away. 

“I didn’t know you went that way, Darlene,” he said.

“Well, you don’t know what I want her for,” she said a little huffy. Then she softened and said, “Look, I aint getting any action from you.  And I aint getting any younger.  But, look, you and I always saw eye to eye when it came to the coons...right?”

“True.”

“Look, basically, I just want to let you know, I’ve seen the pictures and I’m gonna give the bitch a call.”

“Um...OK. I can tell you that I’m getting her trained just right. Anything a good white woman like you does to her can only help.  At least I think so.”

So, they shook hands on it.  Darlene called Michelle on her cell phone.  Michelle was shocked to find that it was the mother of the boy who had participated in her rape that first Saturday.

“I’ve seen the pictures, Ms. Jeffers. And I want to talk to you as a mother.  Getting involved with kids that age is a crime you know.” Actually, Harold was 18, but Darlene wasn’t gonna let that technicality stop her.

“Come over to my house for coffee on Saturday. I’ll give you the address. Come over at 1o’clock.”

Michelle, horrified that someone else knew about her disgrace, could only say, “OK.”

That Saturday, Michelle, wearing a mauve silk blouse and tailored gabardine slacks, drove over to the address Darlene gave her. The house was in a very blue collar part of town. A far cry from the upper class neighborhood Michelle lived in with Brian.

She knocked on the door and a frowsy bleach blonde woman answered it.  She was wearing an orange housecoat and it looked shabby.  Her hair was pulled back in a ponytail and she was holding a coffee cup.

“Come in,” she said.

“I’m Michelle Jeffers.”

“I know who you are.  Sit over there,” she said pointing to a shabby couch.

“Thank you.”

“No need to get formal and uppity with me, nigger,” Darlene said evenly.“I know who you are.  And, what you are.  I’ve seen the pictures on my son’s phone. DISGUSTING!”

Michelle recoiled as if she’d been struck.  She thought the woman wanted to talk to her about how she had been blackmailed.  She was actually hoping that the woman was going to be an “ally”.  But, it was clear that this woman was hateful and now Michelle wondered what she wanted.

“I talked to my friend, Roy Bennett. You know the detective...right?”

Michelle nodded...feeling numb.

“I’m gonna spell it out for you, nigger. You’re gonna be my pussy slave. You’re gonna get down and lick and suck my cunt until I tell you to stop. And if you don’t do everything I say, Detective Bennett will see to it that all your uppity friends and family find out what you are.  Do we understand each other?”

Michelle found herself nodding against her will.  ‘Oh my God’, she thought to herself. ‘What next? Who else will have control of me?’

“Follow me,” Darlene said.

She led Michelle into her bedroom. The bed was unmade and the room untidy. Darlene undid the sash on her housecoat and took it off.  She was wearing bra and panties. She unsnapped her bra and let it fall.  Then she hooked her thumbs into the waistband of her cotton panties and pulled them down. She was no natural blonde.  She had big tits, a D-cup and a fat stomach, thick thighs and a fat, dimpled ass.

“Strip to the waist whore... and get on your back,” she commanded, pointing at the bed.

This was so wrong, in Michelle’s mind.  She had an aversion to lesbianism.  Of course, as a liberal, she believed that tolerance and acceptance of diverse lifestyles was the right progressive thing to do.  As a person, she was non-judgmental on one level, but averse, as a woman, to “relating” to another female.  Michelle had no options however...and obeyed.

With her own heavy tits bobbing and jiggling as she got on the bed, Michelle gasped when Darlene pinched her nostrils shut.  Gasping for air, she opened her mouth to breathe.  Darlene grabbed her tongue and pulled it out of her mouth, as far as it would go.  She pointed to her own crotch.

“Your tongue is mine, nigger. You’d better use it good or else,” she warned her.

She pointed again to the hairy juncture between her heavy thighs and to Michelle’s tongue again.  The meaning was very clear.  Michelle was sickened at the thought; it was revolting.  The thought of having to put her mouth on the white woman’s private partsdisgusted her.  Darlene knelt with her knees on either side of Michelle’s head, facing her feet.   From underneath, Michelle was overwhelmed by Darlene’s heavy, fleshy thighs and the dimpled, fat buttocks descending on her.  The mat of the woman’s pubic hair was thick. 

It covered her fat labia and went up her belly to her navel and around her ass hole.  A largish clitoris poked out of the full, pulpy lips.  The smell was overpowering:  musky and strong.  Darlene spread herself open with her fingers and squatted so that as she sat on Michelle’s face, her clitoris rubbed Michelle’s chin. Then she lowered herself fully so that her vaginal opening covered Michelle’s mouth.  She joked with Michelle that she was going to go for a “ride” now.

In this position, Michelle’s nose was pressed right up against Darlene’s asshole.  The smell was so strong and objectionable, it made her gag.  Darlene grabbed Michelle’s big, brownish-black nipples to pull and twist them.  Michelle was forced to kiss and lick Darlene’s pulpy, smelly genitals, as the white woman squatted over her.  When Darlene sat down, Michelle’s mouth was squashed up against the now wet vaginal opening.

Darlene barked, “Stick your tongue in my hole, nigger.” 

Michelle worried about Darlene sitting down fully and smothering her.  Her nose continued to rub her asshole. Darlene’s pussy flowed heavily and the amount of her womanly secretions was not to be believed as Michelle went to work licking, kissing and shoving her tongue into the hole. Her whole face got wet in the process. 

Darlene frigged herself back and forth on Michelle’s face using her nose, mouth, tongue and chin as a masturbation toy.  Michelle had to keep swallowing to keep from suffocating.  Whenever Darlene commanded her, Michelle thrust her tongue out as far as it could go, and Darlene wiped herself on it from clitoris to vagina. 

Back and forth over her face.  Then the flabby, younger white woman did a little jig as she came and gushed lots of pussy juice into Michelle’s mouth.  There was so much.  Darlene took a breather and then rode her to another wet, smelly cum.  This time, she squatted down and sat on Michelle’s face fully to smother her, to let her know who was boss. 

Every time she sat down, she made Michelle moan into her hot, leaking hole.  Michelle couldn’t breathe; it was a horror, because she felt like she was going to suffocate.  It triggered her gag reflex and fear of asphyxiation.  When it was over Michelle was exhausted, humiliated, and her face and neck were wet with pussy juice. 

To cap off the session, Darlene squatted over her face and told her that she was going to urinate.  She insisted that Michelle take it in her mouth.  She made the Chief Administrator of St. Luke’s Children’s Hospital put her mouth right on the urethral opening and keep her eyes open to look up at her as she pissed.  Michelle, feeling herself sliding down even lower on the status ladder, surrendered.

She felt Darlene’s urethra bulge, then open and close again.  Darlene did this twice, as she relaxed enough to let her urination begin.  The 38 year old white woman grinned…grunted…and finally let her bladder go.  Michelle’s eyes were wide in horror, with the woman’s wet, hard clitoris pressed against her nose.  Her mouth filled up quickly. Darlene warned her to swallow it.  And told her not to throw up.

“Don’t you dare vomit, slut…you swallow my piss…understand?”

Darlene pressed her smelly pussy tight to Michelle’s mouth as her urine stream continued.  Michelle had to fight the urge to gag.  She had to keep gulping and swallowing so she wouldn’t gag.  She swallowed as fast as she could, but it still made her feel sick to her stomach.  The smell and the taste of the acrid piss made her gag and her eyes water no matter how hard she tried to control it.  But she kept at it and took all of Darlene’s hot piss.

When Darlene was done, Michelle began gagging again.  It was the rapid one-two-three type of gag that indicated she was going to throw up.  Darlene grabbed her by the hair and yanked her head around…

“DON’T YOU DARE VOMIT, NIGGER,” she growled at her.

Michelle forced herself to control her body.  She wanted to heave and get rid of the load in her belly.  It was so horrifying to have been made to swallow another person’s piss. But, she was made to take it and not vomit. Afterwards, Michelle broke down completely crying, sniffling, snot running from her nose. 

Darlene, maternally, condescendingly comforted her by holding her dirty panties up to Michelle’s runny nose, wiping it and saying “blow” like a mother would with a child.  The demeaning and degrading nurturing, condescending fondness and affection of it just devastated Michelle.

“Aw, poor baby, poor little nigger girl.  That’s it.  Blow little niglet.  Good girl!”

Michelle was emotionally exhausted, but her ordeal wasn’t over.  She could hear some noise coming from another part of the house.  She was still on the bed with her head on Darlene’s lap.

“That’d be my daughter, Kelly,” Darlene said.

As she lay there, a face appeared at the bedroom door.  Bottle blond like her mother, she was a younger version.  Hair pulled back into pigtails, she had fuller lips than her Mom, garishly painted red and blue- green eyes like Mom’s.  She was plump and short; and had squeezed herself into jeans and a tube top so she looked like a low-rent, trailer park caricature of a teen.  She was chewing gum.

“What’s goin’ on, Mama,” she said, looking over the scene.

“My friend Roy gave us a present, baby.  This uppity nigger is ours to play with.”

Kelly’s eyes widened and a slow smile spread across her vulgar features.  “Really?”

“Oh, yeah. Mama has been puttin’ her through her paces.  I’m getting’ her all warmed up for you, baby.”

“What can we do to her, Mama?”

“Well, I’ve been making her lick my le-le (their baby talk term for pussy). And she did a good job.  Mama says you can get some of that too.”

Kelly, a sadistic little monster, had some other ideas too.   “Can we tie her up, Mama.”

“Sure.”

Kelly ran from the room...

“Oh, God, don’t...please...no more,” begged Michelle.

“Aw, stop complaining’.  You’re a big, strong bitch.  And a mother’s got to do things with her daughter...right,” she laughed.Under any other circumstances, Darlene knew, neither her nor her daughter would even consider doing anything like what was happening now, much less with and in front of each other.  But there was something about targeting and subjugating this nigger that just seemed to trigger a liberating removal of all restraints and taboos, precipitating a cascading series of degrading abuses on their hapless, helpless slut.

Michelle felt sick.  She had fallen in with another group of sick, white, “bubbas” who took delight in tormenting a black person.  But there was nothing she could do.  Roy, and now others, had more and more photos of her doing terrible things.  She was being tortured like an animal on a spit...being roasted slowly over a fire.  Helpless...so helpless.

She could hear Kelly out there, rummaging around for God knew what. Michelle shuddered.  Kelly finally came back, out of breath.

“OK...look at this...look what I got, Mama.”

She held up a coil of thin rope, a pair of scissors and a pair of pliers, a heavy wooden ruler, a cucumber and a huge carrot.  Michelle looked at all the stuff and wondered what was next... ‘Oh, Jesus, save me.’

“Ok, baby. What do you want to do first.”

“Let’s tie her, OK?”

Kelly climbed on the bed began cutting the rope into five foot lengths.  Then she and her Mom began tying Michelle’s wrists to the headboard.

Kelly then got down by Michelle’s waist and unbuttoned her slacks. She pulled them down. She studied Michelle’s panties.  Beige silk, bikini cut. Very sexy.  She ran her fingers over the crotch.

“Lookit Mama, she’s wet...”

Darlene looked and smiled.

“Seems you like being on the bottom, bitch,” she said cruelly to Michelle, who cringed.

Kelly pulled her panties off and then studied Michelle’s kinky pubic hair and pussy.

“What a nasty le le she has, Mama.”

She began pulling Michelle’s pubic hair, but her Mother interrupted her and said, “help me tie her legs.”

They bound Michelle’s ankles and tied them to the footboard.  Now Michelle was naked and tied like a lamb ready for slaughter.

“I wanna hurt her titties, Mama.”

Kelly picked up the pliers and advanced on Michelle’s tits.  He took her nipples in turn and pinched them unmercifully.  Michelle stared at the cruel features of the sixteen year old hovering over her.  Kelly was biting her lip, concentrating on getting it just right.  Her eyes were dilated and she was breathing heavily as she tortured Michelle’s tits.

She grabbed the brownish-black nipples and pulled them out as far as they would go, making Michelle cry out.  Then she began to give them sickening little twists.  Soon, Michelle was hollering for mercy.  

Kelly, enjoying the opportunity to torture a mature black woman, picked up the ruler and alternated giving Michelle’s nipples smacks with the ruler and pinching and pulling them with the pliers.

Michelle began screaming that she would do anything if only Kelly would stop hurting her.  In the meantime, Darlene began to play with Michelle’s pussy.  She ran a fingertip along the crease between the black woman’s labia and legs and the creases between her buttocks and legs, inching closer towards her pussy. 

She gave her light caresses, delicate touches with her short nails, then firmer, gliding finger-tip strokes.  She worked her clitoris...using her index and middle fingers to rub it.  Then she went to used them together in an up-and-down and side-to-side, circular motion. 

She started slower then went faster, cycling slow-fast-slow-fast, with her fingers pressing hard.  Sweating now, Michelle ground her hips against Darlene’s fingers.  Following this, Darlene stuck two fingers in her cunt hole.  Frigging her harder and harder...she made Michelle cum as her daughter tormented her titties. 

Kelly next wanted to shove the big cucumber into Michelle’s hole. And did so. The cuke was at least 8” long and as thick around as a man’s wrist, so it was a tight fit.  Then Kelly wanted to shove the carrot up Michelle’s ass.  Mama told her to go and get some Crisco® from the kitchen.  Kelly ran out and came back with a big can of the stuff.  She lubed up the carrot and had fun working it into Michelle’s asshole.

Now stuffed in both holes, Michelle lay there submissive as Darlene got down to serious business working her clitoris.  She rubbed her big nubbin hard up and down and left and right until she’d made the poor black mother cum and spurt.

“Oh, that’s gross, Mama. Her le le is squirting.  It’s so nasty,” went Kelly.

“Watch this baby. I’m gonna get her to make herself cum.  You work on her tits while I do this.”

Darlene held the heel of her hand up against Michelle’s pussy.

“Rub yourself off. Make yourself cum,” she ordered.

Michelle didn’t know quite what to do.  She was being told to masturbate herself, but when she hesitated, Kelly began the cruel routine of giving her little smacks on her nipples and then using the pliers to pinch and pull them. 

The pain soon made Michelle hump her hips up and down and then in lewdly coital moves, left and right and rotating them around – rubbing her pussy against Darlene’s hand.  It was an erotic sight.  They were making her get herself off.

“Lookit Mama...the coon is making herself cum,” Kelly crooned.

“Baby, put your foot here and let her get herself off on your foot,” Darlene urged her.

“Oh, yeah,” chorused Kelly.

Kelly had been wearing “jellies” so she was barefoot anyway.  She leaned back between Michelle’s spread open thighs and put the ball of her foot on Michelle’s wet, splayed pussy.

“I’ll encourage her,” said Darlene taking up the pliers to work on Michelle’s nipples.

They worked as a team and soon, poor Michelle was cumming and cumming against her will.  Until she had soaked the sheets so much there was a circular wet spot two feet across!

“What a whore, Mama. She’s a nasty whore, isn’t she Mama,” said Kelly.

“It’s your turn, baby. I sat on her face.  Let Mama show you how...”

Darlene encouraged Kelly to take off her top, then her jeans, bra and panties. Michelle watched, entranced as the chubby teen disrobed in front of her.  She was plump and oh-so-white with brown nipples, C-cup titties, and hairy Venus mount.

“Can I have her suck my titties, Mama?”

“Sure.”

Michelle had to suck the girl’s brown nipples, making her ‘ooh’ and ‘ahh”.  Then, with Mama’s encouragement, Kelly straddled Michelle’s face.  She was facing the headboard so her clitoris was right up against Michelle’s nose.  With Mama guiding her she sat down a little and together they made Michelle service Kelly.

Kelly straddled her face and got her crotch right over Michelle’s face.  Holding herself up by placing her hands on the older woman’s shoulders, she lowered herself until she made contact with her face. Kelly had a musky-sweet, fishy odor and a hairy pussy, with a fair amount of brown pubic hair all over her slit showed plump outer labia and a pea-sized clit.  Her inner sex lips gave her pussy the appearance of a peach. 

Dark pink-lipped, growing purple at the edges, her inner sex lips were long, fat and asymmetrical.  Her very white skin was a contrast to the dark grove between her legs and her ass crack.  She was already wet, and her sex lips glistened in the bright afternoon light of the bedroom.

She sat down fully on Michelle’s face to make her gag, and then lifted herself up slightly to adjust her position.  The she began to “ride” back and forth, using Michelle’s nose, mouth and chin to rub her labia, vaginal opening and clitoris.

She found a rhythm.  She began grunting as she worked her hips back and forth.   Poor Michelle could barely breathe again.  She had her mouth open and her tongue out to lick the hot, wet pussy that smothered her.  Michelle’s nose rubbed the chubby girl’s clitoris on the upstroke. 

It felt to Michelle like the pussy was her whole reality.   It seemed to have a life of its own.  The labia had swelled and thickened and she was now so juicy that Michelle was wet from her cheeks to her chin.  She felt like she was drowning.  And then Kelly began jerky coital movements of her hips, back and forth in a way that let Michelle know she was about to cum. 

Never having done it before, she was a little tentative at first, but as she got into it, and as Darlene “compelled” Michelle.  As she yanked the cucumber and the carrot out of her pussy and ass and then used the wooden ruler to spank Michelle on her wet, open pussy, concentrating on her engorged clitoris, Kelly became a demon.  She rode Michelle hard and fast.  When she had her first cum, she shrieked and exulted.

“OH, YEAH. THAT’S SOO GOOD!”

She grunted and her discharge wet Michelle’s face.  The older African-American woman gulped and swallowed some of the girl’s smelly, slippery pussy juice.  After Kelly came, she sat down with all her weight on Michelle’s face, causing her to beat on the teen’s thighs and cry out. 

Kelly’s weight on her face and her scent overpowered her.  It made it hard to breathe, but feeling very submissive now, Michelle unconsciously thrust her tongue as far as she could into her hole.  She wriggled her tongue deep inside her pussy to please her young mistress.  Finding herself doing this without being told shamed her enormously...

“OH, Mama...it’s great.  Make her do it more,” Kelly said.

They made Michelle do it more.  Kelly was tireless.  She sat on Michelle far longer than her Mama had.  When she was finally done, Michelle was a wreck.  She had to pee and begged Darlene to untie her and let her urinate.

“I got an idea Mama,” said Kelly, her eyes glinting with sadistic glee.

She whispered what she wanted to do to her Mama, who nodded, ‘yes’.

Kelly went and got “The Board of Education” a paddle Darlene used on her kids when they were younger.   They untied Michelle’s ankles and bent her double so she was in the “diaper position”.  Then Kelly used the thin paddle to beat Michelle on her buttocks and thighs until she begged for relief.  Smack, smack, smack...the teen beat the older woman methodically.  She took out all her hostility on her...

After this, they untied her wrists and took her into the bathroom.  They made her get into the tub on her back.  Then, they bent her double with most of her weight on her shoulders, neck and head until her toes were touching the bottom of the tub. 

“Now, stick your fingers in your stinky pussy and asshole and finger-fuck yourself,” Darlene commanded.

They made her do that for awhile, until she again begged to be allowed to pee.

“Piss on yourself.  Piss on your own face,” Kelly spat at her.

In this position, Michelle stared at her cunt above her. She had to ‘go’ so badly.   As she had been working her fingers into her wet pussy and greasy asshole, and this put pressure of her bladder, Michelle began whimpering and whining.  They kept her in that position until she pissed in her own face, with some of her urine landing in her mouth.  It was a hugely shaming climax to the day’s fun and games. 

Now, there were two white females, in addition to six white males, who had used her sexually.  Michelle was allowed to put her clothes on and leave. She literally ran out of the house and drove like a madwoman and when she got home, she shut herself in her bedroom for the rest of the day.  She shut Brian out and shut herself off with her shame.

IN PART TWO, MICHELLE BECOMES A SLAVE TO WHITE CHEERLEADERS...

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