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Click hereShe had her orders.
At exactly 5:00 pm she was to be at the given address with fried chicken, cold beer and a good attitude. At 3:00 she made up her face carefully and dressed as directed: short skirt, red thong panties, white blouse, no bra. Looking at herself in the mirror as she applied make-up and brushed her long, wavy locks, she smiled in satisfaction: she knew what an amazingly pretty, fresh piece of ass she was. A black man was a man after all, she reflected and she could use her body to control him as well as any other man. Last night she had more than a bit of trouble going to sleep, and had tried vainly to convince herself that her indiscretion in sneaking out to see Robbie was nothing he could really be upset about... Robbie was really just a friend, a sweet sensitive friend; and if Sarah Jane had given him a hand job, it was just a friendly, nice thing to do to make him feel better and relieve some stress... Stress, worry... she felt that all night. But now, in the light of day, her confidence in her sex appeal and manipulative skill in handling boys came back to her.
It was not a part of town she knew. The tenements were broken concrete, bordered by broken sidewalks and dying trees. Traffic was a mess, and she had gotten turned around, and now it was 5:15. There was the building: six stories of boarded up windows covered with spray paint obscenities. She parked crookedly, ran across the street, and ran up the stairs to the third floor and banged on the dented steel door, welcoming her with a spray painted 'Fuck You.' As she waited, she finally thought the obvious: Why am I doing this? Her heart pounded in terror... 'Why am I doing this?' She knocked again, almost dropping the six-pack of beer. She waited... then realized his instructions were NOT to knock, but simply to enter. She took a deep breath, trying to remember her earlier confident spirit and went in.
There HE was.
He sat in an over-sized easy chair, his huge black frame filling it as though it were a piece of doll furniture. Seven feet tall, deep black, his 54 inch chest a wall of glistening black muscle, his arms as thick and hard as tree limbs, his powerful sloping shoulders like the sides of a dark mountain. He was wearing only a pair of silk running shorts, and had his powerful thighs crossed in front of him.
He was watching a small black and white TV with a coat hanger antenna, sitting on a cardboard box. The TV volume was turned low; somewhere an air conditioner clanked... It was stuffy and warm, and the August sun slanted in silently through greasy windows. His face was impassive over a deep look of silent hatred in his eyes. She was afraid to look at him, but there was little else to look at: a high table with a blanket on the top next to his chair was the only other furniture in the room. When he turned to look at her, she almost fainted... she felt like a baby chick cornered by a huge, black serpent.
He pointed a thick black digit at the floor in front of his chair. She sat, with the beer and bucket of chicken next to her.
The rug was filthy, the stuffing was coming out of the torn chair, cum throne. He was watching TV, seemingly as bored as he was angry. At last he reached out a broad black hand towards the beer at her right. She broke off a can, and handed it to him. He drank it down in one thirsty pull, crushed the can and threw to the corner of the room. Without looking at her, he extended his hand for another beer. He finished the second can as quickly as the first, and reached his hand towards the bucket of fried chicken. She help up the bucket and he reached in an pulled out a piece of the greasy, warm chicken... He took a couple of bites, threw the rest into the corner, with a grimace of dissatisfaction; then selected a second and third piece, consuming them noisily. A third and fourth beer, and then he paused, belched and then finally looked down to observe Sarah Jean.
He wiped his greasy paws on her white blouse, then dragging his greasy fingers through her long blonde hair. Wiping his hands on her blouse again, he lost patience with leaning over and grabbing the blouse in both hands he tore it off her, jerking Sarah Jane half way to her feet before the thin fabric ripped off her body.
He took his middle and index finger and laid them along the long bulge in his silk running shorts.
"Suck it, bitch."
Sarah Jane realized she wasn't playing a game now. There was no choice being offered, and the consequences of displeasing this huge black bull were serious and real.
She worked his shorts down carefully releasing his member. Her heart pounded as though it would jump out of her body as his 14 inches, hard black and swayed rigid before her eyes. Thick as a soda can at the base, sloping to widen at a broad mushroom head, it seemed to have a life of its own. She reached to gingerly take his pole in her pale little hand, planning to plant a sweet, tender kiss on his cock-head; knowing that this sensual gift would assuage his anger, and all would be forgiven now...
He took his black flesh club in hand and cock slapped Sarah Jean's face as she was leaning forward. He grabbed her behind the head with his free hand and cock-slapped her pretty face repeatedly... She was rigid with fear.
Releasing her, he ran his two fingers along his scrotum, his testicles hanging heavily as tennis balls. He scooted forward towards the edge of the chair, and Sarah Jane lowered her mouth to kiss and lick her Black Master's balls. Taking a chance she took his huge black balls, one then the other, into her warm, tender mouth. His huge black member grew even harder with her tender sucking of his balls. Now he took the lower part of her face in his huge palm, squeezing, forcing her mouth open, and placed the head of his cock between her lips. She obediently sucked, glad of a chance to accommodate her breathing to the size of his member; it was hardly time enough: he took her head in his hands and began to crudely face-fuck her. Sarah Jane was gagging on just the first few inches, and thought she that her end, choked by a huge black cock, was near.
He stood up, kicking the bucket of chicken away, and then picking up the TV and smashing it into the wall. He grabbed her torso and threw her on top of the high table like a rag doll; like throwing a pork chop into a hot skillet. Pulling her to the edge of the table he lifted her top thigh high exposing her smooth, satiny love mound... Her pussy was young and tight and pink. Propping her leg against his side he ran two fingers along her love crack, pushing down to separate the lips. Rubbing her cunt, pleased to see she wasn't too scared to lubricate. He paused to wedge a cushion from the chair behind her head, then continued to rub her tight little pussy. When he felt her juices run out of her, hot on his hand. He turned his hand and wedged one, then two, thick black digits into her cunt. He looked at her pretty face as he finger-fucked her: Sarah Jane's pretty, arrogant face was flushed with desire to be filled up her Black Master's thick 14 inches.
"You too proud to ask a nigger to fuck that precious white pussy? Maybe I just ruin you, then throw you on the street naked and let you see if street niggers say 'Please' and 'Thank You.' "
Sarah Jane had never taken more than seven inches of his cock in her love hole; she had enough sense that his thick black club could deliver pain as well as pleasure. She responded with fear, but more than fear:
"I know it is your decision what to do with me. I just to say I was wrong to disrespect you, and my mouth, my pussy, my ass belongs to you... and you alone... from now on, for real."
She was babbling, didn't know if there was a formulaic reply, fearful whether her answer seemed too staged...
Sarah Jane was relieved when she felt his fingers rubbing warm oil around and inside her pussy. He took his time, letting her close her eyes and moan softly, far into her own little world... Sarah Jane's usual place...
"Open up your eyes and look."
He positioned his broad cock-head at the mouth of her pussy mouth and pushed. She gave a little gasp.
"Want you to watch this 14 inches of thick black nigger cock slide into that tight pink pussy. You gonna take all of it."
Stretching her thigh as high and wide as it would go, he shoved into her. Her pussy clung to his thickness, hugging tight as a hand, as though to keep it from entering more deeply. He rocked into her, forcing inch after inch, tighter and tighter. He fucked her relentlessly, used her like a sex toy for his pleasure. One last grunting shove, and his heavy black ball sack rested against her bare love mound. As her hot pussy juices ran out over his balls, he reached down across and pinched and twisted her hard, pink nipple tips and gave a mean smile...
"Pretty white young white girl has so much pride. Thinks her pretty face means everyone else is lower than shit, not worth anything but what they can do for her. Ain't that right?"
Sarah Jean wanted to cum now, felt an orgasm coming, felt he was purposely withholding satisfaction from her. She responded to his insults, - secretly hoping he would let her cum if she pretended to submit...
"Yes, that's true. Yes, Sir, that's how I am... I mean how I used to be... I, uh... "
The huge angry black mountain gave a cruel laugh.
"Shitting poor fake. You ain't gonna be allowed to cum... You gotta learn."
He pulled her off the table with the blanket, throwing both on the floor. Sarah Jean put her elbows down to raise herself up, but he was on top on her straddling her face. He hung his balls over face and reached back
to play with her wet cunt as she licked him. He cock-slapped her, called her an arrogant bitch, then suddenly reversed his huge body with unexpected speed and brought the crack of this muscular black ass down over
Sarah Jane's pretty face.
"Kiss my nigger ass, white girl."
He gave her seconds to position her tender, sweet lips... the soft, full lips so many white boys dreamed of kissing tenderly... to position her tender sweet lips at his black nigger asshole and kiss...
"Kiss like you mean it, slut."
Sarah Jane, surprised at herself, gave her Master's butt-hole loving service with her lips.
"Now lick it. Lick it good."
He pressed his ass down onto her face, hard.
"Now get that pretty little pink tongue up my asshole and make you Big Black Master feel good.
... After this you will know in you heart you my property."
Sarah Jane obeyed, and he rejoiced in her submission, her humiliation. Turning quickly again, he emptied a geyser of hot, sticky nigger cum over her pretty white face. Into her mouth, into her hair, rubbing a jism mask over her entire face. He rubbed his thick nigger dick bag and forth over the bridge of
her pretty nose, then popped his cock on her forehead, leaving a 'mushroom mark' that would last for days.
"You are my property now. You understand?"
She was exhausted, frightened, shaken,... defeated...
"Yes, I am your property now, I am simply a slut for my Nigger Master. That's what I want... "