Jeremiah took in the wonderful display of Cheryl’s charms. He ran his large, soft hands over Cheryl’s limpid breasts that now lay flat against her chest. He teased and squeezed the nipples causing them to harden. It did not take long for Cheryl’s breath to begin to quicken as she felt the inevitable rise of lust that followed any purposeful manipulation of her teats. Jeremiah stood over the prone girl, placing her neck between his knees. He leaned over and took the nub of Cheryl’s pleasure in his mouth. As he engulfed it with his lips, Cheryl released a loud moan. The black man placed his bright pink tongue into the crevasse between the lips of Cheryl’s sex and explored the now wet interior.
Cheryl’s moans became little cries as she was being led to the brink of orgasm. But Jeremiah knew his business. He sensed when Cheryl’s moment of point of release was near and withdrew his tongue. Standing upright he smiled as he observed the twitching of Cheryl’s thighs, frustrated by the absence of release.
Stepping away from the bed, Jeremiah took a last look at Cheryl before exiting the room. Yes, these white bitches were a pleasure to torment, he thought. Before leaving, Jeremiah leaned over to Cheryl and spoke to her softly.
“White slut, you cannot prevent the Master’s cock from entering your throat. Do not try. When he pushes his manhood in, you must swallow, like you were consuming it. Tomorrow, after the Master goes to the fields, you can show me what you have learned tonight.”
Cheryl lay quietly on the bed as Jeremiah left the room. The bedroom doors slammed shut with a loud “boom”. The room became absolutely still so that the only noise was the muted sound of Cheryl’s breathing. At first, Cheryl struggled to free her hands. But then she realized that if she managed to get free she would probably be beaten and the wrists reaffixed. With tears in her eyes, she abandoned herself to her fate.
Time passed slowly as Cheryl awaited her Master. Finally, she heard the twisting of the doorknobs and the heavy sound of the doors being swung on their hinges. She turned her head to the left and saw Stoner enter the room and then shut the doors. He was holding a large tumbler in one hand, filled half way with a dark amber liquid. Before proceeding into the room, he took a long pull at his drink and sighed as the liquid coursed down his throat.
Looking over, he took notice of his prisoner. “Good evening, slut,” he said with a facetious graciousness in his voice. “Have you been lonely? How rude of me to keep such a delectable cunt and mouth waiting.”
Stoner laughed to himself as he walked unsteadily over to a wide, low dressing table located along the wall on the right side of the room. It had a large mirror running down its length and Cheryl had been able to see the reflection of her splayed legs and feet in it as she had awaited Stoner’s pleasure. Stoner looked up as he placed his glass clumsily on the dressing table’s surface and saw Cheryl staring at his reflection.
“What are you looking at, bitch?” he demanded in a now harsh, slurred tone. “You didn’t think I forgot you, did you? One thing you can count on, cunt, when I make a promise to throat fuck a whore like you, I keep it.” He laughed at his joke.
Cheryl didn’t think it funny at all. She closed her eyes and turned her head away from the mirror. The unreality of her position struck her. Her body had now become a prison that held her subject to the torments that these cruel men cared to visit upon her. Was her only escape death?
Stoner leered at the prostrate woman on his bed. Her long brown hair fell below her head, sweeping the floor as she turned away from him. “She was worth every penny,” Stoner thought to himself. “I’m going to enjoy this one.”
The paunchy but muscular man had just finished off, as was his nightly want, the better half of a fifth of scotch. His head was a little woozy, but he was still sober enough to do what he had been planning for all day. He loved breaking in these bitches. He enjoyed their struggles and pleas for mercy. After a few months, they started to get used to the whip and the cane and it took greater and greater extremes to drive them to desperation. But that was okay too. Seeing how much a slut could take before she was truly broken in spirit, maybe even driven out of her mind, was fun. There had been that Belgian last year. When he was finished with her, there was not much mind left. She was too useless to even send down to the brothel in the capital. Stoner had given her away to a local tribal chief. For all he knew, they had cooked and eaten her since she was nowhere to be seen the next time he came around.
But Stoner didn’t like to waste an investment like that. And he thrived on control. He liked to push the women he bought just to the edge of collapse and no further. Give them a look over the precipice, as it were. Tonight he was going to see how much abuse this new girl could take.
Stripping himself, Stoner took a heavy pull on his scotch and set his glass down. He might as well get right down to business. His cock was flaccid and so he needed a little warming up before he could have his fun. He grabbed a thin cane off of the wall and stepped over to the waiting woman.
Kneeling down, Stoner took Cheryl by the hair and turned her face to his. “Nowhere to go, nowhere to hide, cunt,” he taunted her. “You see this little cane here? I’m going to whip your slit with it. I want to hear you howl before I stick my cock down your throat.”
Cheryl’s heart was frozen with fear. Another whipping! And on her sex! She knew not to beg for mercy even if she could, since there would be none. But she could not prevent a whimper of fear to escape her distended mouth. As Stoner rose to his feet, her whole body began to shake and tremble in anticipation of the torment to come. Stoner leaned back and delivered a strong blow with the cane directly on the center of Cheryl’s wide open pussy. “CRACK!” The sound of the cane’s contact with Cheryl’s flesh echoed throughout the room. Her body convulsed. A loud wailing moan escaped her lips. Another blow followed. “CRACK!” This time it landed to the right of the slit between Cheryl’s thighs, across the labial lip. “CRACK!” Stoner directed the cane to the left of Cheryl’s cunt. “CRACK!” Once more, the center of Cheryl’s thighs was struck. This time however, the tip of the cane landed precisely on the apex of Cheryl’s furrow, striking her clit an excruciating blow.
Cheryl was delirious with pain. She had thought that her torment the night before was the most she could ever stand, but here was a whole new level. Terror drove all rational thought from her mind. Her throat burned from her hoarse bellows of pain. As she twisted and turned her head, the cloth that was wound around her neck drew tighter, threatening to cut off all of her air.
Stoner’s cock was rampant now. It only took a few blows with a whip on a defenseless female to get him into heat. He tossed the cane aside and got down to the business at hand.
Cheryl was still moaning from the pain in her lacerated loins. She felt her head pushed down and sensed Stoner moving close to her. His hands were on the sides of her face, steadying her. Without warning, he shoved his hard, hot meat into Cheryl’s mouth.