It was Mary who knelt behind Cheryl, readying her quim for their husband’s penetration. Justine was also on her knees. She had freed Stoner’s cock and was sucking it to hardness. Cheryl’s drugged mind would not permit her to resist the waves of pleasure that rose from her loins. She heard the beginning of a rhythmic clapping from the crowd and looked up to see a hundred pairs of eyes staring at her. Behind her, the Imam and the rest of Stoner’s entourage had a clear view of her moistening pussy.
Once Stoner’s cock was hard, he pushed Justine and Mary out of his way. He raised his hands to the crowd and the clapping was silenced. Cheryl’s sex was wet, her labia distended and engorged. Her cunt ached to be filled in spite of herself.
Stoner obliged the swooning woman. He guided his cock to the entrance of her burning sheath and plunged in. Cheryl gasped as she felt the hot rod of flesh penetrate her. As Stoner pounded at her opening, she could feel her blood rising. Her whole body was a tingle with pinpricks of pleasure. She shuddered as her sex’s convulsions began. In spite of her stifled mouth, she emitted a prolonged, wailing moan. Stoner, excited by the contractions of Cheryl’s pussy, could no longer contain himself. His cock throbbed and jerked inside of her, spilling his seed. He groaned as his body was seized by pleasure. Finally, his climax at an end, he withdrew from Cheryl’s cunt and raised his hands. The crowd cheered.
The ceremony now was over and Cheryl felt herself being wheeled away. Congratulations were expressed and approval given for Stoner’s fine selection. The Imam was paid his marriage fee, a substantial sum, and graciously left so that the drinking of alcohol could begin.
Cheryl was wheeled into the foyer of the Mansion. Her pinned and splayed body was left there, her face towards the stairs, her ass toward the door, to await the pleasure of her Master. Her hindquarters were still exposed and garnered many a glancing stare as the servants ran to and fro to supply the guests, mainly Stoner’s officers and their “wives”. There were three white foremen on the plantation and they too enjoyed Stoner’s hospitality and the view of his new wife’s cunt. The guests had the run of the first floor of the house and Cheryl felt their presence behind her as they walked in and out. Her mind was still fogged from the drugs and she lay her head down and let the fog enter her mind. “What did it matter anyway?” she thought. “That’s the part of me that this bastard treasures. Let them all see it.”
Stoner wandered down to the barracks to see how his former wife was making out. He entered the officers’ quarters to find Sara on her knees servicing a young lieutenant. His grinning black face disclosed a set of bright white teeth. He was holding Sara’s head by the sides as he slid his turgid black cock back and forth. Two other officers were waiting their turn. Sara’s arms were tied behind her back and she offered no resistance to her abuse. Her long blond hair shook with each thrust of the lieutenant’s hips. Finally, he came with a loud grunt. And withdrew.
Stoner approached Sara before the next officer could have his way. He lifted Sara’s chin so that she could see that it was him. She cringed when she saw him, terrified that he had come to torment her once more.
“I hope that you’re enjoying yourself Sara with all of these gentlemen at your service. I’m going down to the capital in about ten days. I’ll let you enjoy yourself with the men until then. We’ll fly down together and I’ll introduce you to the life of a whore. And then I’ll say goodbye to you in my usual, special way.”
Sara, who thought herself by now beyond tears, started to cry. Her future was laid out before her. Until she was too ugly and drained to be used, she would serve as a fucktoy to whoever could afford Stoner’s price. And then, hopefully, someone would give her a quick death.
After about an hour, the guests began to depart. It was getting on to the hottest part of the day and everyone who could went off to find shade. Stoner came back to the mansion. As he entered he saw the displayed loins of his new wife. “Well,” he thought, “time for the honeymoon.”
He ordered Cheryl to be wheeled back to his bedroom. He filled his glass with scotch and followed. Once in the room, he chased the servants away and took in the lovely graceful lines of Cheryl’s thighs and ass. He had promised her that he would fuck her in the ass today, and he always kept his promises, at least of that sort. But first, she needed to be woken up.
Jeremiah had removed the ball of drugs from Cheryl’s mouth soon after the ceremony was over. While her head was still foggy, it had begun to clear. She realized that she had been wheeled into Stoner’s bedroom and she also remembered his promise of the day before. She could do nothing but await the assault.
Stoner slapped his hand down on Cheryl’s buttocks, rendering a loud ‘crack!’ and leaving a red mark in the shape of his hand behind. Cheryl stiffened at the blow, the pain accelerating her return to full consciousness.
“Ah, my dear, we’re alone at last,” Stoner joked. “Are you prepared to perform your wifely duties?” He rubbed his hands over the tender white cheeks of Cheryl’s behind. “I’m going to fuck this little bung hole of yours, my dear. But first, I think I’ll warm you up to the task.”
From among the implements of torture that were displayed on his bedroom wall, Stoner selected a short, whip, with wide, black lashes. It would suffice to burn and sting when applied without marring the alabaster surface. He wanted her ass good and red before he fucked it.
Stoner’s goal called for repeated, relentless strokes. And so he began whipping the proffered derriere without warning and without pause. Cheryl yelped as the lashes struck her soft skin. The unrelenting nature of the blows soon had her uttering a constant, plaintive moan. She tried to wriggle her ass to avoid the bite of the whip, but the sight of her writhing ass made Stoner’s task all the more enjoyable.
Finally, the white globes had turned a deep shade of red. Cheryl kept moaning, even though the whipping had ceased, because her skin seemed afire. She wanted to scream out at her tormentor, to call him the bastard that he was. But she bit her tongue. Venting her anger and hatred at her assailant would only serve to drive him to inflict more pain.
Stoner was breathing heavily from the exertion of using the whip. His cock was hard and he was anxious to get on with his task. He disrobed quickly and approached the fiery red orbs. “Here comes my cock up your ass, my dear,” he said to Cheryl, tauntingly. “I hope you like it because we’re going to be doing this a lot.”
The short, balding fat man mounted a little step that had been put in place there by one of the servants. He pushed the head of his cock up against the puckered entrance to Cheryl’s bowels. He nestled the head in the entrance teasingly.
“Do you feel my cock, slut,” he asked his bride. When Cheryl did not reply, he slammed his hand down on the tender skin of her right cheek.
“Owwwwwww!” Cheryl cried out. “Oh, please don’t hit me again, please,”
‘Smack’, another blow fell.
“That’s please don’t hit me again, Master!” Stoner roared. He struck her again.
“Ohhhhhhh! Please Master, please don’t hit me again, please!”
“I asked you a question, slut. Answer me! Do you feel my cock?”
“Yyyyes, Master. Yes! I feel it!”
“Well, I think it would be appropriate if you begged me to fuck your ass, slut. It’s either that or I go get the whip again.”
“Oh, not the whip again, Master, please. I beg you to fuck my ass! Please fuck my ass!” Cheryl sobbed.
“All right then. Here we go.”