In a loud voice Suka said, “Unless number six shuts up and stands up she’s already taken her last shit!” Buru pulled the woman to her feet. She stood bent over in pain, the tears streaming down her cheeks. “Now,” the General demanded, each of you tell us your age, where you are from, and what you were doing in America before deciding to visit us here.”The men laughed. “We don’t want to hear your names. You will eventually be given new names. State your number.”
The soldier pointed to the first girl, a somewhat thin blonde with unusually large bright blue eyes. Maureen thought of her sister Eileen. The shy girl was trying to hunch her shoulders forward in an effort to make her breasts less exposed. Roughly the soldier wrenched her shoulders back. “Display your tits!” he shouted. With her hands cuffed behind her head and her shoulders drawn back her small firm breasts were pushed forward provocatively.
Her face was red with shame. She glanced down at the number to make sure she had it right. “I…I...I’m number one,” she whispered.
“Louder, bitch!” the General shouted.
Swallowing hard, the girl began again, “I’m number one. I’m from Ashland, Oregon. I’m eighteen. I am a freshman at the University there.”
“What were you studying?” one of the men asked.
“General studies for the first year but I hope to major in art history.”
“With a sweet mouth like that I think your new major will be sucking cock, sucking brown cock and sucking black cock.” The men shouted in agreement, laughing.
The soldier nodded to the second girl, a brunette with large soft breasts, a very slim waist, and a round, firm ass. “Number two,” she said. “Chicago. Twenty-four. Married for a year,” she paused, blinking to hold back the tears. “I’m a secretary in a cosmetics company.”
The next girl had been standing with her head bowed and did not raise it. “Number three,” she began.
The soldier stepped in front of her and jerked her head up. “Look at the buyers, bitch! They want to see what they’ll be bidding on tomorrow.” My God, Maureen thought. This is the slave trade Big Daddy mentioned. These poor girls are going to be sold!
The third girl stared out at the men seeming not to see them. She, too, was a brunette but with very pale skin. Her breasts were small but well formed, her tiny waist flared out in to a perfectly proportioned ass, She seemed to have trouble walking and even standing in the five inch heels. “Number three,” she repeated.
“I’m from Altmount, Kansas. My…my father is the pastor of the First Evangelical Church there. I’m nineteen. I work part time in the church rectory and volunteer as a nurses aid in the local hospital.”
“Do you have a boyfriend?” Suka asked.
“Yes, sir, I do.”
“Are you a virgin?”
She blushed, “Yes, I am.”
Rifti poked the General, “Certify that and you can double the opening bid,” he said.
The General smiled and nodded. “Two million, at least.”
The next girl stepped forward hesitantly, “I’m number four,” she said. I’m a senior at Michigan State University and a cheerleader.” Her body was well toned, her legs long and muscular, her breasts, stomach, and ass firm. It was clear she was athletic. “I’ll graduate in June as a Physical Therapist.”
“Are you a virgin?”
“No…no, I’m not.”
“Too bad. Have you fucked around a lot?”
She shook her head, “I’ve only had two boyfriends.”
“Is your cunt nice and tight?”
“I….I….don’t….” the embarrassed girl began.
Suka cut her off, “How about your ass? You ever been ass fucked?”
“No!” she said quickly. “No never!”
One of the other men said, “Well, at least she’s got a virgin ass.”
The General addressed the line of women, “Any of you up there been ass fucked, raise your hand.” After a moment number six who was still softly whimpering, raised her hand. “That’s no surprise,” the General said. The bitch is becoming less valuable by the minute. He gestured toward the soldier who tapped the next girl. She was a very sexy redhead who, like number four, had a buffed body, long shapely legs, a well rounded firm ass and high firm breasts. She had been angry and sullen but since number six had been shocked and burned, she’d changed her attitude and even tried to smile at the row of men. “I’m number five,” she said. Age twenty-three. I’m a stripper. A pole dancer in an up-scale club in Los Angeles. I’m certainly not a virgin, but I wasn’t lying about my ass. Lots of men have wanted to…you know, take me there, but the price has never been right.”
“You ever fuck a black man?” Suka asked.
“Almost once, but, no, not yet.”
Again the General directed his question to the group. “Any of you ever fuck a black man?” Tentatively, number six raised her hand.
“Well now we’re down to the loud mouthed bitch,” the General said. “That black man was probably the best fuck she ever had. Ain’t that right, bitch.”
She straightened up but it was obvious she was in great pain. She nodded. “Yes,” she said. “It was good.” She looked at the soldier who nodded for her to go on. “Number six. Age twenty-six. Personal escort. New York City.”
“A fucking personal escort is the same as a whore, right?”
She wasn’t sure how to answer him. “We’re like call girls. Very expensive.”
“Whore! Suka shouted. She nodded and said nothing. The General stood and the soldier on the stage went down the line poking each girl between the shoulder blades. “Up straight, bitches,” he said. “Display your tits, part your legs so the buyers can see your American cunts. Wet your lips.” They did as he ordered. All looked frightened but several still appeared slightly defiant. The men discussed them commenting on one’s full lips, another’s round ass, the soft tits of number two, the blue eyes of number one, the strong legs of the cheerleader.
They congratulated General Suka. Rifti whose damp hand still rested lightly on Maureen’s breast said, “It looks like a good crop, General. But it must be a new shipment. They don’t yet understand what they are. They certainly need some training. The auction is tomorrow, isn’t it?’
General Suka smiled, “Yes, tomorrow all the buyers will be here. Rest assured, Rifti, the training doesn’t take long. The bitches will know what they are and will be sufficiently trained by then.” He turned toward the stage and gestured at the soldier who led the women off the stage with Buru following behind number six, who limped painfully.
When they had gone, the lights came up in the room to reveal a bar against the back wall. Nancy stood behind it prepared to make drinks. The General picked up Maureen’s leash. Immediately she got on her hands and knees and, like a pet dog, crawled beside him. At the bar she again placed her hands behind her neck and got to her knees.
“It appears you’ve got this bitch trained already,” Rifti said. Suka patted Maureen’s head and she found herself unaccountably pleased with this, his first notice of her. ‘My God, she thought, I am becoming his pet bitch.’
“She wasn’t hard to break. She’s anxious to please, aren’t you bitch?”
He asked her a question so she knew it was permissible to speak, “Yes, Master,” she said.
The General raised his glass and the others did the same, “I think we’re in need of a little entertainment. How would you gentlemen like to see the bitch whipped?” Maureen’s heart sank. Suka leaned over her, “Ask to be whipped,” he said.
She was about to plead with him when she caught Nancy’s eye and the slight shake of her head. “Please, Master, have me whipped,” she whispered.
“I seem to recall the whip made you excited.” He turned to the men, “Her American cunt was dripping after Buru beat her.” He tugged on her leash. “Wasn’t it? The whip makes you hot, isn’t that right?”
She bowed her head then looked up at the laughing men, “I…I’m….not sure. I think maybe it does.”
> “Well, we’ll soon know,” Rifti said.
“Crawl to the stage and wait there on your knees for Buru.”
As she crawled away from them, her leash dragging on the floor, one of the men remarked that she had a fine well rounded ass. “Has she been ass fucked,” he wanted to know.
“Yes, many times,” the General said. “Before I got her she was a whore for blacks in a place called Cleveland in America. But I understand her asshole is tight. She’s also knows how to use it, how to milk a big black cock.”
Kneeling on the stage waiting for Buru, Maureen felt her body tremble, whether in anticipation or fear she didn’t know. Buru and the soldier rolled a platform onto the stage. From its center rose a round wooden post. Near its top was an eyebolt. Attached to it was a pair of leather cuffs.
“Kiss the end of Buru’s prick,” the General shouted.
The grinning boy stood before Maureen with his unnaturally long cock dangling before her face. With her hands still locked behind her neck, she leaned forward and gently pressed her lips to his cockhead. She was quick to notice he smelled strongly of that rich black scent that never failed to arouse her. For a moment she found herself wondering what it would be like to feel this long thin primitive cock probing the back of her throat.
“Now stand and go to the whipping post,” the General said.
Unsteadily, Maureen rose to her feet and crossed to the post. Without being told, she lifted her hands to the cuffs. The soldier buckled them around her wrists and pulled them up tighter so that only the tips of her shoes were touching the platform. “Ask for it,” Suka said.
Turning her head to the side where Buru stood with his thin whip she said loud enough for all to hear, “Please Buru, whip me.” The whip swished through the air and cracked against her skin cutting her. She bit her lip and determined not to cry out, but by the fifth stroke she was screaming. By the tenth stroke she had passed over some threshold of pain and was pushing her ass away from the post in order to receive the searing lash of the whip. After forty strokes her back and ass and the backs of her legs were crisscrossed with dark red welts. The men at the bar laughed and cheered.
When the soldier unbuckled the cuffs, she collapsed onto the floor. The General allowed her to lie there for several minutes. As soon as she started to move, he called out to her. “Put your fingers in your cunt and then hold them up for us.” She did as he ordered. Her two fingers glistened with her juices. The men cheered again. “Does the whip make you hot?” Suka shouted.
She lifted her head and turned slightly toward him, “Yes, Master,” she rasped, “the whip makes me very hot.”
Buru was standing on the far side of the stage, his skinny naked body beaded with sweat. General Suka winked at the men, “Now, bitch, crawl on your belly to Buru and kiss the whip and kiss his ugly prick again.”
Painfully, she dragged her body across the rough floorboards to where Buka stood grinning down at her. He held the whip handle near her mouth. She kissed it. Painfully, she lifted her body to press her lips, once more, against the end of his cock. The General nodded at Nancy, “Take her to her room, treat the cuts, feed her, have her bathe, and prepare her for me. I’ll send for her around midnight.”
Nancy hurried to the stage and, after awhile, managed to lead her through a back door and into the hallway. They made slow progress back to Maureen’s room.
Chapter Eleven
Nancy had Maureen lie down on the bed and proceeded to treat her cuts with a healing salve. “The people of Africa know more about most medicines than the medical professionals of the Western Nations,” she said. Maureen was ready to agree with her. The cooling slave took the sting out of the whip cuts immediately. The angry red and purple welts magically receded to pink. As Maureen lay there feeling drained physically and emotionally she thought of the women who were to be auctioned off to the high bidders and of her own position.
‘We are all strangers in a strange land,’ she thought. ‘In many ways we’re much like the original African slaves who were taken by force from their homeland, their families, their customs and sold into slavery. The slave masters were, for the most part, not much better than the General. They had the power of life and death over their slaves and used it to degrade and humiliate them in ways that were cruel beyond imagining. How many young black women had been taken from their families, their husbands, their children to be transported to a strange land and placed on an auction block? Perhaps in some odd way, what was happening to her and to the others the General brought here was justified. What goes around, comes around,’ she thought.
Nancy finished and sat in the chair next to the bed. Maureen pulled the sheet over her and closed her eyes. “You can rest later,” Nancy said. “Your dinner will be here in a few minutes. You must eat then sleep for awhile before preparing to go to your Master.”
Maureen smiled at Nancy, “Thank you. You’ve been very kind,” she said. She was quiet for several moments before turning to Nancy again with a question. “Why do you suppose, I react the way I do to…to…the whip?”
“You mean, why are you aroused by it?
Maureen blushed, “Yes. Before last night I’d never been struck, certainly not with a whip.”
“You were raised a strict Catholic?” Nancy asked.
“Yes, both parents were Irish. It was at mass every Sunday and Catholic schools.”
“The Church is very big on sin and guilt. Confession, penance for your sins. You violated your marriage vows. You left your children in order to engage in all kinds of sinful acts with black men. Whether you are aware of it or not, you are carrying a heavy load of guilt. Your indoctrination insists you be punished. The whip serves that purpose. You welcome your penance. It is well known that in olden times the flagellants who beat themselves with whips of thorns almost always experienced spontaneous orgasms.”
“Then being whipped will always…always…”
“Excite you? Make you wet? Yes, I expect it will. Leaving your little children is a sin you will never be able to forgive yourself for.”
A black serving girl Maureen had never seen brought her dinner on a tray. Nancy followed the girl out after telling Maureen she would be back in a few hours to prepare her to visit the General. Maureen ate, then drifted off into an untroubled sleep.
Three hours later Nancy woke her. “You are to be taken to the General’s quarters in an hour. I let you sleep longer than I should have. We must hurry with the preparations. I’ve drawn your bath.” Maureen glanced at Suka’s photograph that Nancy had placed at the foot of her bed. A shudder coursed through her body. “Nancy, he terrifies me,” she said
“That’s as it should be,” Nancy replied. “Now, be quick.”
As she had earlier, Maureen bathed, rubbed her body with the scented oil, and carefully applied her makeup. Nancy brushed her hair and handed her a new pair of patent leather pumps with a five-inch heel. She stood back and looked approvingly at Maureen. “I must say, you are the most beautiful woman to come through here in quite some time. Much prettier than those women we saw this afternoon even though they were very attractive.” Maureen smiled and felt the color rise to her cheeks. “Did you apply the K-Y jelly?” she asked. Maureen nodded. Nancy clipped the leash to Maureen’s collar and led her down the hall. “You can walk until we reach his quarters,” she said. “You know what you must do then?”
“Get to my knees and crawl to him. Kneel before him with my hands clasped behind my neck. Speak only if he asks me a question. Do whatever he orders me to do.”
Nancy nodded in agreement, “That’s right. Remember, absolute obedience.
Abject servitude.” She tapped once on the door and swung it open. Maureen got to her knees and crawled toward the huge bed were General Suka lay naked, watching her.
She was aware that the door had closed behind her. The room was lit with candles. Heavy drapes covered the windows. In addition to the canopied bed there was a long leather couch, several overstuffed chairs, a desk, a
nd a door that led to what appeared to be a marble bathroom. At the side of the bed, she got to her knees and assumed the position, pulling her shoulders back, thrusting her breasts forward. The rouged nipples were already hard. Unblinking, the General stared at her. She wanted to turn away but couldn’t. “What are you,” he said.
“You are my Master and I am your white bitch,” she had trouble controlling her voice.
“What have you come here to do?”
“Obey you. I….I…mean I am here to lick your ass crack. To…to tongue your…your hole. To drink your cum.”
He rolled over face down and placed two large pillows under his stomach that served to lift his huge ass. He said, “Ask.”
“Please Master, may I lick your crack and tongue your hole?” Saying words sent a hot flow to her crotch. He indicated she should climb up on the bed and kneel between his legs.
When she was in position he said, “Look at it.”
She stared at the huge mounds of black flesh and the deep dark crevice that separated them. She breathed in the familiar black smell that never failed to excite her. Her mouth filled with saliva. She was shocked to realize that she wanted to do this. She actually wanted to taste this cruel black dictator’s hole. “Please Master,” she said again. “Please permit me to taste your there. Please let me tongue your hole.”
“Spread my ass cheeks with your hands and do it,” he said.
She did as he’d instructed. His large puckered black hole was tight and surprisingly smooth. His ass and crotch hairs, unlike the long scraggly hairs of her husband, were little curls flat against his skin. She loved the musky scent of him, even here. Gently she licked along the deep crack of his ass. She did this several times, avoiding touching with her tongue the hole itself.
She felt him sigh contentedly and was pleased. After several more minutes he said, “Rim me, bitch.”
She began by making concentric circles with her tongue around the outer rim of his hole, then circling closer and closed to the hole itself. Suddenly, without warning him, she darted the tip of her tongue into his opening. It opened wider to receive her.
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