Kurim gave a curt order to the men holding the tall girl. She was dragged by them to a gibbet that stood on the edge of the parade ground. It was set upon a small platform, one large enough for a full grown man to swing a bullwhip from.
Another order from Kurim caused an underling to dash off into the barracks. A few moments later, he returned with a long leather whip. Kurim took it from him and mounted the platform.
The soldiers were having a hard time with their captive. They had loosened her hands from behind her back and she was twisting and turning, struggling to free herself from their grasp, desperately seeking to avoid attachment to the extended arm of the gibbet. It took another man’s help, but the soldiers soon had the frantic black woman’s hands tied before her. They took a rope and affixed it to her bound wrists and looped it through a small iron ring on the underside of the extended arm. With a few tugs of the rope, the girl was standing on her tip toes.
She had long, braided hair, jet black, as black as her skin. She screamed and yelled in protest as she dangled naked before her former friends and neighbors. The other women had been forced to crouch down on the grass. Their silence was enforced by a soldier’s whip. Kurim mounted the platform and shook out the long, sleek whip. The crowd of women let out shrieks and cries of protest, precipitating the repeated application of a soldier’s riding crop.
The bear-sized general played with the whip, letting its end drag across the platform, snapping it in mid air. The cracking sound silenced the on-looking women. The soldiers had crowded round, intent on enjoying the coming spectacle. Stoner had the other beauty he had selected by his side, a leash attached to her collar, and was alert with anticipation. It wasn’t every day you saw a woman bullwhipped.
The tall, lithe woman was now begging Kurim for mercy. She twisted and turned on the platform fervently pleading to be spared this ordeal. Kurim smiled at her, an evil, vicious smile. He reared his arm back and snapped the bullwhip forwards. Its tip struck the woman on the front of her thighs and she screamed.
A blot of blood appeared at the point of contact. The woman’s agonizing scream resounded throughout the compound. All over the mansion, servants rushed to the windows. Mary, who had spent the afternoon naked and alone in the women’s dormitory, dashed to the window to find its source. She looked and cried out in disbelief, just as Kurim snapped the whip again, landing a fierce blow against the tall woman’s right buttock. Her scream echoed anew across the parade ground. The crouched women wept and cried at their friend’s plight. Another ‘crack!’ and then another. Two red rivulets began to run down the girl’s body from her breasts. She danced and squirmed in terrified pain. Kurim let go with one last blow from the whip. This one struck the woman’s unmarked buttock, creating a line of blood across it to match the other.
After a few moments, the woman’s wild screams faded into a desultory moan. She hung on the platform listlessly, all of the fight and spirit taken from her. Kurim barked out an order to the guards who began shouting and screaming at the crouched women. They rose as one and ran off into the front door of the barracks. Once inside, they would be led to individual cells where they would await their ravishment. In the morning they would all be branded, a large slanted “S” on their buttocks.
The remaining five of the seven who had been culled out by Stoner were to be divided among the officers. Kurim got first pick, of course. The rest would be shared. They would all receive their brands in due course.
Stoner walked up the hill towards the mansion, his prisoner in tow. He dragged her up the porch stairs where he was met by Jeremiah. “Take this cunt, clean her up and put her in my room. I’ll deal with her later,” he told the large, jet black factotum.
“Yes, Lord,” Jeremiah replied. “Your wives await you in the discipline room,” he added.
“Yes, I’m looking forward to seeing them. Get me a tall scotch and soda.”
Jeremiah gave a short, curt order to a houseboy who scooted off to do his master’s bidding. The tall man took control of the master’s new slut and led her into the house.
Stoner received his drink a moment later. Taking a long swig, he watched the tall, now compliant African girl being dragged across the parade ground to the barracks. She would be spared further abuse for the time being. He had a plan for her.
Having sucked down the cold, biting refreshment, Stoner went into the house and found his way down to the Discipline Room. Justine and Cheryl had been left there, their tongues cruelly impaled, their leg muscles stretched to intense discomfort. Jeremiah knew his business. The girls were stretched just enough to cause maximum pain and cramping in their legs and in the muscles of their mouths, but not enough to cause serious damage.
Because the cruel piercings to their tongues were connected by the long leather strap threaded through the ring on the bar, any movement by one to ease the strain on her body had an immediate effect on the other. They had had all day to rue their incipient rebellion. Rebellions had to be ruthlessly crushed. Jeremiah had ensured that the women paid severely for their foolishness. Henceforth, they would think only of the need to avoid their own punishment and let the chips fall where they may for the other.
Both women gave a small start when they heard the door to the Discipline Room open, an action they both immediately regretted as their movements exacerbated the pain to their mouths and legs. Stoner smiled as he heard the women’s piteous moans. “Good afternoon, ladies,” he called to them as he slammed the heavy door shut. “Have you been enjoying yourselves?”
The women quailed in fear. This was the moment they had been dreading all afternoon. They had suffered the fierce cramps in their legs, the painful throbbing in their tongues. Their mouths were dry, their throats burned with thirst. The constant need for attention to the delicate balance they maintained between the strain on their tongue and their legs and feet had been exhausting. And now came their tormentor in chief. What brutalities would he add to their suffering?
Stoner grabbed a long rattan crop from the cabinet and approached the grotesquely postured women. He stroked it over Cheryl’s bare ass. “Wouldn’t you prefer to be sucking my cock, cunt?” he asked her. Cheryl could only look at the fearsome man out of the side of her eye. She dared not move her head. She moaned a forlorn plea. Stoner laughed, “Cat got your tongue?” He shook in his merriment. He looked at Justine’s cruelly stretched body and rubbed the crop over her breasts. “Sorry for your little game this morning, bitch?” he asked her. “I think that next time you will jump at the opportunity to suck me off, won’t you?”
Justine gurgled a reply.
“Now someone’s going to get ten strokes across the ass with this whip,” he taunted the miserable women. “The other, I’m going to fuck in the ass. Frankly, in your position, I don’t know which one will hurt worse.” Stoner stepped closer to the women and grabbed one of Justine’s tits. He twisted it fiercely. Justine moaned in agony. Her discomfort was translated immediately to Cheryl, who felt Justine’s every movement in her aching tongue.
“I think that I’ll give you the whipping, Justine,” Stoner told her. “You should have known better. You’ve been here the longest. I think that you believe that your artful mouth has earned you a permanent berth here. Perhaps I should ship you out. Maybe you want to be sucking thick black cocks all day instead?”
Justine fruitlessly tried to communicate her obsequiousness to her owner. Her words came out as mere grunts. Each syllable evoked a twinge of pain.
To Cheryl, Stoner said, “Get your ass ready for a fucking, cunt.”
Stoner stepped behind Justine, admiring the taut, twin globes of flesh on her rear. “Yeah,” he thought, “maybe its time that this one moved along.” He reared back his arm and slammed the cane onto Justine’s delicate, white buttocks. Justine and Cheryl both moaned in pain. The French girl’s flesh twitched as she absorbed the blow. Crack! Another blow fell causing Justine to gurgle and dance. Cheryl tried to make up for the added strain on her tongue by standing on th
e tips of her toes. But the more slack Cheryl gave to Justine on the infernal strap that connected them, the more that she seemed to want. Blow after blow fell, ten in all. Justine’s ass was cherry red from its abuse. Tears flowed freely down both anguished faces.
Stoner caught his breath. His cock was rock hard as a result of his sadistic treatment of the French woman. That, and the enticing sight of the tall black woman’s dance at the whip, had fueled Stoner’s pump. Not bothering to disrobe, he wrestled his hard meat from his pants and addressed Cheryl’s behind. Her spread legs, forced open by the bar that Jeremiah had placed between them, make readily available the tiny starred entrance to her bowels.
Cheryl knew what was coming and desperately tried to relax her muscles to ease Stoner’s entrance. It was not easy given her predicament. So when Stoner presented his hot cock to his puckered target, the ring of flesh was narrow and taut. Stoner grabbed Cheryl’s hips and held her still as he pressed his manhood into her rear passage. Cheryl’s hands were bound behind her and he delighted in their involuntary contractions as the pain from his forced entry shot through the abject girl. The movement of Cheryl’s body caused unwelcome movement to Justine’s and both girls groaned in torment.
The heartless man reveled in the heat of Cheryl’s bowels, the tight grip on his shaft by the little ring he had violated. He rocked his hips into Cheryl without thought to the anguish the reverberations of his thrusts caused the two women. In fact, their miserable groans and moans fueled his passion. It was not long before he felt his lusts rising, his cock begin to throb. With a loud moan, he began to pump his seed deep into Cheryl. He was thrusting madly, causing the women unbelievable, agonizing pain. And then he was finished.
A half hour later, Jeremiah came down to free the women. After releasing their spreader bars, and using a small pair of clippers, he snapped the barbed ends off of the hooks and passed the steel through the raw openings in the girls’ tongues. As he released them, each girl sagged in his arms. He gently let them fall to the ground.
Dinner that night was an awkward affair. As was the custom, Cheryl, Justine and Mary awaited their master’s return from his rounds kneeling in the main hall, dressed in obscene finery, their fingers in their quims, lubricating themselves for his pleasure. At the dinner table, neither Cheryl nor Justine wanted to eat a single mouthful. Their tongues were swollen and sore from their ordeal. At Stoner’s insistence, they took small bites of the fresh fish from Stoner’s fecund lake and washed them down quickly with cold, soothing water.
But Stoner had little interest in his wives tonight. He had a new toy to play with locked in the cage in his bedroom. There was no pleasure in life for him like despoiling a wench, and the knowledge that a naked, young, innocent girl awaited him made his appreciation of the culinary delights of his table more perfunctory than usual.
When dinner was over, or, rather, when Stoner’s dinner was over, he had Jeremiah rush the women back up to their room. He would have no need of them tonight.
The frightened African girl looked up from her small steel prison when Stoner entered the bedroom. It had been a day of unimaginable terror for her. Only this morning, she had awoken in her own bed, in her family’s hut, among people who loved her. Although she was barely eighteen, marriage and family came young to the women of her village and she had a small child of eighteen months. She was still breastfeeding the little boy, as was the tribal custom, and her breasts ached with unused production of milk.
She had watched her friend meanly whipped and knew that her captor was capable of great cruelty. She had no illusions as to why she was caged, naked, in his sumptuous bedroom. She had no courage to resist. For her son, she must live. As impossible as it might seem, she knew that she could not give up hope of being reunited with him and her loving husband. She would be dishonored, probably cast out from her home, as if she was complicit in her own ravishment. But she could live to see them, could hope for mercy and understanding from her husband; she knew she would get none here.
Stoner approached the cage where his new captive crouched fearfully. He knew that the girl almost certainly had no English, but was sure that the ever efficient Jeremiah had instructed her on her new duties. He rattled the cage with his hand, chuckling to himself as the young woman cringed. “Ready for your fucking, my little black bitch?” he said.
The words were meaningless to the girl, but she could tell from the heavy white man’s tone that her torment was soon to begin.
Stoner undressed and then opened the cage. He had taken up a small riding crop and poked the girl until she obediently emerged. As she crawled on all fours, her firm, round, black breasts swung freely beneath her. Her flanks were meaty, but firm and graceful. She had short ringlets of black hair on her head and a thick, dark thatch below. Her buttocks were rotund and rippled as she struggled to obey the cruel white master.
When she had emerged from the cage, Stoner pushed her head to the floor. She pressed her face to the rug, but her back was arched, her rear presented to her master’s view. Only her husband had seen her like this, as she lustfully prepared herself for his thrusts. She was shamed that this evil white man should see her so. Stoner tapped on the insides of her thighs, and she obediently spread them. He crouched next to the girl and reached his hand under her and felt her cunt.
It was fleshy and hot. The entrance to her womb lubricated obediently as he rubbed his hand against it, tracing a line along the slit with his finger. It took but a minute before he earned a small moan from the girl’s lips.
Satisfied, Stoner rose to his feet. He swung the riding crop fiercely onto her behind. The girl groaned in pain and mortification. She despised herself for succumbing to the man’s caress of her sex and welcomed the pain of the whip as punishment. Five times Stoner belabored the young woman’s rear globes. The girl moaned and cried at each blow. She wondered how she had offended the man so quickly. She did not comprehend Stoner’s pleasure in administering pain. She would learn.
Content that the girl knew what agony his displeasure could bring, Stoner sat on the edge of the bed. He motioned for the girl to come to him. He grabbed her hair and lifted her to her knees between his legs. His cock was rampant and his desire was obvious. She knew what he wanted. The trembling girl hesitatingly took Stoner’s cock in her hand and pressed her lips to it. Stoner, his hand still in her hair, pressed her face down on his cock. He pierced the girl’s mouth to the back of her throat. “Suck cock!” he ordered. These words, and other short, curt imperative phrases such as, ‘spread your legs’, ‘kneel’, ‘bend over’ would quickly become known to the girl.
The frightened girl began to swirl her tongue around Stoner’s rigid member. With tears running down her youthful face, she pleasured Stoner’s tool with all of the skill and enthusiasm she could muster. Seeing that she had gotten the message, Stoner released her head and let her do the work.
The dark, cruel man reveled in her oral caresses. He watched her face intently, enjoying the desperate look on her face. The girl looked back up at him, seeking any sign of displeasure, the bright whiteness of her eyes, eyes filled with wetness and ringed with red, a stark contrast to the coal-like blackness of her skin.
Stoner was enflamed by the wide lips that encircled his pulsing cock. Here was Africa, itself, at his feet, its eyes searching for his approval, sucking his steel hard dick, succumbing to his whims. He felt it fitting that this black cunt should be on her knees to him, as was every living thing within a thousand square miles. He did not often have native whores to his bed, but when he did, his mind reeled with exaltation as his mastery of this corner of the continent. Few men in this modern age wielded the power that he did.
The black girl’s efforts were bearing fruit as Stoner felt his juices rising. She felt it too, as the cock in her mouth began to throb and the semi-sweet precum washed against her tongue. She had one hand cupping Stoner’s drooping testicles, caressing them gently as she had been taught, and the other hand wrapped firmly on the meaty pole.
She began to hum a song of delight, as her husband liked it, her voice reverberating on Stoner’s swollen member. Stoner moaned and seized her head again, pressing it into his loins. He groaned with pleasure as he shot his load into her throat. Pulse after pulse of almost excruciating delight swept through him.
He allowed the native woman to continue to massage his softening cock with her mouth and lips. Her oral skills matched her beauty, he thought to himself.
When she had finished, and Stoner’s cock had deflated to its restful state, Stoner pulled her up onto the bed. She had never been in a bed like this, her marriage bed in her village consisting of a thin pallet laid on the dirt floor of her small hut. She marveled, in spite of herself, at its softness. She felt unsteady as it rose and fell beneath her, as she struggled to the center of the bed.
Once she had lain out prone on the bed, Stoner commenced a minute inspection of her flesh. He ran his hands over the smooth skin of her hips. He felt the softness of her inner thighs, the pink softness between her black thighs. But what delighted him most of all were her firm, large lactating breasts. The milk was oozing from her nipples. The breasts, used to the frequent suckling of a child, were filled to burst. Stoner placed his lips upon them and drank the sweet, thick milk. The girl moaned in relief as the aching pressure on her teats was released. She cursed this man for stealing what was, by rights, her child’s. The thought of her young boy hungry and crying for his mother was unbearable to her. But she docilely allowed the white man to have his way. The white men had stolen everything, why should her mother’s milk be any different.
That night Stoner ploughed his new captive fore and aft. She had never been fucked in the ass before and protested loudly when she felt his thick cock press open the dainty ring of flesh. She cried while he plunged deep into her bowels. Stoner held her hands locked tightly behind her back as he took his pleasure there. To the girl’s abysmal shame, before he allowed her the safety of her cage, he forced her to clean him with her mouth.
Slaver's Bait: The Taking of Cheryl Page 9