Chapter 8
"Time for your first lesson, mister! Now you're going to find out what it's like. If it's true what they say about girls like me!"
Naomi drew the man to her and her mouth worked against his, plying at his lips with the arrow of her tongue. She could feel him shudder as her tongue made its way into his mouth and worked about his warm, wet cavity.
"Like that?" she snarled, drawing her head away. "Why that's only a small taste of what you can have!"
Her hands were at the buttons of his shirt and pulling loose his tie. She was angry. Filled with contempt and loathing for not only these three white animals, but for herself. She had to show them. Had to get even. When she got through with them, they'd know she existed, and what her worth was! They'd know what they bid for. With her it would be unlike anything they'd ever known be-fore. She'd make them know it! She'd wring them out and hang them out to dry!
In a few moments the small blonde man was naked. Pink and quaking before her, he was pudgy with what seemed to Naomi was baby fat. Despite his thirty-odd years, his body glowed and took on the form of an over-grown toddler. His excitement and shining blue eyes didn't help his image, and Naomi found amusement bubbling within her.
Ignoring his protests, she had managed to get him to stark nudity. Now her patient, enforced smile faded. He just stood there grinning shyly at her, waiting to see what would happen.
Stupid ofay! You're so sure of what you want until it's there on a silver platter, served to you with all the trimmings. Then you don't know what to do with it! Look at it, eat it, or play with it. Do I have to show you?
She reached for him, drawing his head to hers and pressing her open mouth to his while she crushed her breasts and pelvis against his bare flesh, gyrating her hips and shoulders so that he could feel her voluptuous contours. Her tongue explored the depths of his mouth and her thighs splayed against one of his legs so that he could feel the soft muff of pubic hair and the moistening lips of her cunt.
His eyes clenched shut and a shiver ran across his back at the velvet-like touch of her groin, the silken softness of her full breasts and rigid nipples.
Naomi played with him. Toyed with him. And the feeling of satisfaction grew within her. Not because of his quick reactions, but because of the con-trol she knew she held over him. The domination. And she wanted to control and dominate these men. Master them!
His hands slid between them to crush her breasts, mold them in his fingers and squeeze her nipples to erectness. His breathing was deep and rapid as his mouth attacked hers and devoured her flesh. One hand strayed down to her groin to probe between the hot labia of her now sucking pussy.
Her own fingers kneaded the quaking flesh of his prick into the thick, frantically pulsating entity she desired at her abdomen. Her slender fingers plied the loose foreskin along the stubby shaft while the blue vein which coursed its side grew and darkened until it was a heavy pulsing vessel cresting the fiery head of his pale, sensitive cock.
Then they reached down into the hollow beneath his splayed ass cheeks to cup the deflated, limp sacs of purplish flesh sparsely covered with pubic hair. Between thumb and forefinger she squeezed and prodded the twin balls, inciting them to fill with the thick, sticky essence of life.
Amid the coarse, scratching, black, pubic hair she drew the testicles to turgid fullness, tracing the burgeoning vein that ran from his dampening crevice over the flaccid mounds of his balls.
He was almost ready!
Her lips despised the blood-tinted, waxy skin of the white man. The odor of cigar smoke lingered in his clothes and had transferred in a stale cloud about the bareness of his flesh. Even his expensive masculine colognes didn't cover the fetid odor of strong tobaccos. His skin, pudgy-soft like a child's, knew nothing of the sweat of real labor, and she doubted, from the slowly emitting masculine odor of sex, that he had known much of the feats of that labor to any admirable degree.
She sucked his tongue into her hot mouth and ground her wet, boiling labia onto his screwing fingers. Tightly, she thrust her body into his, all the while massaging that ruby, shielded head into blind fury and its balls into fervid life.
His fingers scratched within her in his nervous excitement and her cunt burned with the hot itch of desire. Why the hell didn't he do something! Damn it, man! Use your prick, will you!
His lips had found her throbbing breasts and were nibbling at her hard knobbed nipples, making them raw with his grating teeth and her own seething desire.
She cruelly twisted his balls and cock with a pressure designed to bring him to the urgency of his quest. His stiff cock was on fire in her taunting clutch, and her sucking pussy dripped on his furtive fingers, inciting them to riot in her gyrating loins.
The little man moaned, his breath hot on her tits.
Naomi took the sound as a signal to her, and abruptly pulled away.
Without looking at him, she sank to the sofa. Stretching out seductively upon the length of the cushions, she snarled at him.
"Okay, high bidder, you paid for it ... take it!"
With a savage cry, he fell across her body. His hands and fingers pushed and bruised her bronze flesh, molding and shaping her breasts and nipples.
The pain clawed into her throat and she winced and then her breathing came heavier as he continued to work the expanse of her torso, his palms electrified at the touch of her abdomen, cunt and thighs.
There was no delight ... no passion. There was only lust in this male animal atop her, eyes glazed with gluttony as he devoured her body with his hands, mouth, and total being. She gave herself to the greed and was caught up with the gnawing need of lust masticating her own loins, drooling at her cunt.
"Come on, high bidder!" she screamed. "Fuck me! Nowl"
Although his penis was hard, and throbbed in readiness, he had continued to explore her body, ever different in the changing light of the shadowy library as two dim forms crossed and recrossed in the path of the light beyond, impatient with their own needs.
It was as if he had not one passionate female under his hands and lips but five, each a tantalizingly different color.
Now her full, firm breasts rose up in the crisscross of soft shadows like dark, sullen hills, their nipples black like tiny cinders, hard and resilient as rubber. Her black, soft-clefted mound of pubic hair was wet with the sweat and desire of her loins. The thin, moist trench of her vagina welcomed his prying nose as he sniffed at the sweet scent of her sex, the sweat of her female parts, and the love juices that welled from her cunt. Her soft, expensive perfumes were lost in the hypnotic, powerful odor of their combined sexes furtively striving in coition.
"Now!" she demanded, her thighs spread wide beneath him.
He rammed his torrid, heavy cock into her. Like a flaming sword, it split the length of her uterus with its force and fury.
"Aaaggghhh!" her breath pierced the stagnant air with its cry.
Like piston gone mad, it plummeted her womb.
And she strove with it to keep the hard ridges of its barreling length within her.
He twisted and pounded above her, forcing his prick to ravage the depths of her cunt, deep into her belly. Again and again, he drove into her, his blue eyes unseeing, only her image like an imprint on his madness remained. His fingers were yet electrified at the plundering, manipulating ravishing of her breasts and nipples.
Naomi's legs locked around his heaving bulk, whipping her heels at his back, her nails clawing his flesh as she sought to pull him into her. The ramrod of his prick was caught in the tense muscles of her channel, sucking it deeper as her hips and thighs writhed and contorted beneath his thrusts.
His pungent odors were suffociating her, and his soft fat kept slipping at her grasp. Her mouth ajar with panting moans and mewlings, she could taste his salty sweat and spit as he thrashed his head above her savagely-beaten tits and sputtered his mad gutteral curses at the pain and blissful torture of the strangled prick in her belly.
Suddenly it began fitful spastic jerkings and she knew the time had come. She was exploding in her own womb, gushing forth the come of her own climax.
In long, hard drives he pounded into her.
"I'm come-coining!" he rasped.
And with a careening, searing lunge he speared her womb, his cock gushing forth in long, torrid spumes of sperm. Erupting with fury and passion, the jet-like streams of white, sticky come cascaded into her womb, flooding her belly and channel, drowning his jerking cock.
Her buttocks were wet with the hot, spilling fluid. Their short pubic hair was matted with liquid as their groins merged and ground together once more. His balls, wet and shrinking, slapped against the upturned cheeks of her ass with the rhythm of their final climax and orgasm.
When he was milked dry, his balls hanging limply in his groin, she surrendered his equally depleted and flaccid prick. It withdrew wetly, almost bubbling with the memory of its spent enthusiasm.
The man rolled backward, exhausted. Crawling from her sweat-beaded body, he tumbled over on the floor to lie in a weary heap of sweaty, lust-satiated languor.
Naomi didn't watch to see if he would fall asleep from the exertion of his sexual endeavors. She heaved a sigh and stretched her aching limbs, mustering the energy to accept the next man.
He had already stripped down to his well-muscled frame. She smiled wanly. Maybe this was one ofay she wouldn't have to prime and nurture into readiness for the act of intercourse.
Maybe. He swayed hesitantly as he approached her outstretched, proffered form. It was that drunk! So he was the one who had second try. Come on, whitey! Steady boy!
He nearly tumbled onto her as he drooped above drinking in the voluptuous womanly curves and hollows of her flesh. His eyes were staring as if in hypnotic trance and a lop-sided grin displayed his full set of teeth interspersed with a couple of shining gold crowns.
"Well, man?" she whispered as she offered her arms to embrace him to her rapidly pulsating breasts, still feeling the effects of her last adventure.
His head came down to hers to taste her lips, her mouth, her nose, her eyes.
The stench of liquor filled her nostrils and throat with nausea. She could taste the strong flavor of whiskey on his lips. She wanted to vomit!
His lips at first were tender, his hands gentle on her face and head as he moved his large frame awkwardly onto the couch, to kneel over her. He seemed to be searching. Searching for what? The frigid, white pussy he had married?
This man had determination and purpose in his striving at her nipples, his mouth bruising hers as his whiskey-soaked tongue choked her throat. No follower like that last one. But goddamn! Does he have to be so-!
Suddenly his fists were pelting her cherry-tipped breasts with clawing blows. His mouth was eating at hers, his teeth chewing her lips.
Naomi writhed beneath him, trying to find a way to counter his ferocity. Her hands pushed his shoulders up, away from her body and she looked at him sternly and squarely for a long moment until his panting body stilled, and his gaze met hers.
His eyes gave recognition. I'm different, Naomi breathed silently. Whoever she is, I'm not her. I'm just a black whore to use and discard like those jellied rubber diaphragms you used in college. Worth no more, worth no less. That's me! Naomi Douglas, nigger girl. One black pussy like any other. Meant to be screwed, fondled, plundered, ... Fucked and forgotten, that's the keyword with a nigger cunt. Fuck her and forget her. She's just one step above an artificial job, a dildo. Damn it! Do it and get it over with, you bastard!
"Always wanted to try a black one," he breathed the words in her face. "Never thought I'd get myself a combination white/black though. How 'bout that. You honey-skinned bitch. You're mulatto, aren't you?"
"You paid for a screw-job, mister, not conversation!"
Naomi was furious. She wished it was all over and she were back at the apartment safe in Randy's loving arms. Bastard! He went off and left me too! The tears bit into her eyes as she thought about it. Damned whites! Don't give a shit about anyone but themselves!
"Well, baby," the man said, his leathery, tanned face mature and weathered with years of athletic outdoor activity, leaned towards her, "Show me!"
She surveyed his well-muscled and sunburned body. The muscles were tensed for action. Drunk or not, he could handle anything she gave him. She was sure of that. And the look in his eyes, the crouch of his body told her he was no novice.
"Come on, female," his thick tongue taunted her. "Show me that a black pussy's any better than a white one. Show me there's more difference than amber curls and pink labia to your red ones and black pubic hair. Is that all? Or were you niggers made for loving?"
Hot with fury she scrambled beneath him and snatched at his cock. Her nimble fingers gave the loose foreskin more than the usual prodding and she worked the half-taut organ until it was hot, the tiny hole at its emblazoned crest frothy with come.
She didn't wait for his smile of half-approving satisfaction. Diving into his limp balls, she fingered and nudged them to ripe, succulent plums, turgid with the sweet juices of life-giving sperm. Pummeling them with the pent-up fury of her hatred, she caused their purple flesh to turn hot and red with soreness. She wanted him to itch, burn, sweat unmercifully.
Her teeth gnawed at his male nipples through the mesh of grey-red fur on his chest. Softly grating, titillating them until they were red, swollen thumbs, raw with desire and itching passion.
His heart was pounding loudly and she could feel the rush of his pulse at his groin as his male organs picked up the tempo of savage lust. With a cry of hunger, the man reached for her.
Dodging his grasp, she looked up at him with severity.
"Thought you wanted me to show you!" she rebuked him, her sensitive fingertips still busy at their tasks, inciting the nerves of his flesh to a riot of tingling, charging friction that made his internal organs surge with feverish desire.
"Baby, you have shown me! Now I want what I paid for. I want to screw you. You got me hot and I need a female cunt," he told her, panting. "You've got talent, woman. But now I'm itching to get into you! It's been too long. And I aim to get what I pay for!"
He didn't waste any more breath on words, but reached for her.
Naomi was dragged over into position by his hot, anxious arms. Like a pointer dog at a showing with its master, she was nudged, poked, and blocked into a kneeling position.
Damn it! An animal! I can get into position without that kind of treatment! She yelled silently at him, flinching as he stroked her smooth hips and patted her breasts like she was a pet dog or cat.
"This is the way I like it," he breathed behind her.
She could smell the heavy odor of his whiskey breath, mixed with the smell of his freely-flowing sweat. His overpowering masculine odor and the stench of liquor left her weak, her head throbbing with crushing fumes.
His strong hands caressed her silken curves and finally clutched at her tits as if they were about to milk the teats of cow. She'd never been so heated with fury. So insulted at the touch of a male. He was trying to humiliate her, punish her for what his white bitch did to him. Pussy-whipped coward! Train her-not mel I know what I'm made for. I know how to make a man happy! Haven't I shown you?
"Gonna taste a nigger cunt!" came his exalted cry.
His ringers teased her breasts, frolicked with them, and molded them until they were bruised and bleeding. And his turgid prick probed blindly at the crevice of her wet ass.
Then he was spreading her legs apart until she nearly fell over the side of the sofa. He let her slide into a crouch on the thick carpet and poised himself behind her.
She could feel his fingers slipping between her labia. For half an instant there was a cold breeze on the hot, wet insides of her cunt as the labia slid around the fingers, closing off the air of the room.
Three blunt fingers swirled in the rosy warm flesh of her pussy, plucking the delicate, tensed thread of her clitoris. They crushed it with their toying, pushing onward down the passageway as far as they could to the opening of her womb.
Deep and hard they screwed into her. Punishing her with his fucking fingers, his thrusts made her body jar and sway with their action.
"Nnnaaannnggghhh!" Naomi protested.
He panted with a mocking grin above her. A nigger cunt. It pleased him.
"Thought you liked Negroes!" whined a voice, on the floor close by.
"Shut up!" hissed a voice. "He does ... in their place!"
"Ohhh," the first voice seemed satisfied and mumbled off into sleep.
Vaguely in her tormented rocking position, Naomi could make out the tall man massaging his swollen cock through the open fly front of his trousers.
Then her eyes jammed shut and pain cut through her body as the fingers were replaced by one of the biggest cocks her vagina had ever taken on. It must be massive, was the thought that seared her brain as her mouth contorted with an emerging cry.
"Yyyeeeiii!"
The man groaned and bellowed with his own pain and exertion.
"Hhhaaannnuuunnnggghhh!"
The huge, hard-ridged prick was fully into her. She could feel every crease and swell in its volume and length, so tightly was it jammed into her.
He began the long thrusts into her, pulling long and hard, ramming sharply and profoundly till she thought her uterus would burst with its massiveness. Its hardness ground within her, leaving raw the sensitive flesh it had fathomed.
Gripping her ripe, hanging breasts and pinching her nipples, he tugged and manipulated them as he rode her buttocks with the frenzy of a bronco gone mad.
The passion of her own body and furor of her hate and anger spurred her to keep up with him, even to surpass him. She would show him yet who was master!
Together they rode the pulsating, savage rhythm of their lust-borne orgasm. Gyrating, writhing, pounding against each other with the arcs and dives of their fertility rite, they went with the violence of the storm that wracked their loins. Their groins locked tight in the masticating joining of their organs, chewing, sucking, and pulverizing into the tender flesh of the other.
As suddenly as his needs took hold of him, came the explosion of his coming. Meeting hers with the impact of a bursting dam, his fluids rushed forth to flood and drown all in their path.
Again and again the dam broke within her, the force of its flow breaking her frozen arch of orgasm with its explosive thrust. The white, hot come filled her to over-flowing, dripping down the groins of both of them. The sticky sperm oozed slowly down her crotch and was like glue on her thighs.
His heavy balls slapped against her buttocks in the savage tempo of his orgasm. And finally exhausted of ammunition, his prick shrunken and limp in her pussy, they withdrew. With a loud pop, he pulled out his cock, and it hung deflated and wet in his groin.
Naomi heard him stumble off to collapse in a nearby chair. She waited to be sure he was gone before allowing herself to slump to the floor. She wouldn't show how tired she was. She would make them know she was better than them any day! There wasn't a white cock that could knock her out! Her body could take them all on and still come out on top while she left them writhing and tormented with exhaustion and satiation. Yes! Naomi Douglas, nigger or not, mulatto and just all-female, knew how to give it to a man and make him know it!
The third man was standing over her, furtively working the protruding flesh of his groin.
"Give it here, mister," she told him. "I'll fix it for you."
He hesitated, looking at her with a scathing eye.
Here was a man who hated black people. Really hated them! She knew that look. More than one white man had it. No wonder he was low bidder. He wanted a female cunt, but he hated to stoop to a black one.
The others were bad, Naomi thought, looking over her shoulder at the prostrate little blond on the floor and across to the sprawling drunk on the chair. Each had his own hang-up about Negroes.
The little one didn't particularly notice, except that he was a follower. If the others didn't like niggers, he wasn't about to jeopardize himself. And if everyone was out to have a good time, why he'd be the first to plunge in. He didn't want to look scared or green. To buy a female pussy for a screw was the game. To him he couldn't give a damn what color it was unless someone else complained first.
The world was filled with followers. That was why just a few nigger-haters could control an apathetic mass who couldn't give a damn about anything but their own position in society. Sometimes she wondered who was worse, the nigger-hater or the man who didn't care so long as his opinion or actions didn't scorch his butt.
The second man knew exactly what he wanted. No follower, he. And be the cunt white or black, all he wanted was for it to do the art it was created to perform-and to do it well.
The words of the third man remained with her. "In their place." Sure he liked Negroes so long as they remembered who was boss and didn't get in his way. A cunt was a cunt, be it white or black, so long as it did its duty. And God help the scapegoats of society if this man was rubbed wrong and he felt the need to lay punishment where he wouldn't be criticized for it.
Yeah, she thought. I'm a good nigger ... in my place!
But this one. She looked up at the face filled with loathing as if she were a deformed freak, a carrier of a dread disease. All because of the dark pigmentation in her skin. This was the man to fear.
Here was a leader of riots. A Ku Klux Klan inciter of hatred, violence, murder or bloodshed. Here was the type of man that prolonged the suppression of the black man, the Indian, and other minority-groups. Here was a man who brought destruction, fear, hate, and death to men, women, and children of all races because of his prejudices. Yes, brought anguish even to his own people mentally through guilt and empathetic suffering for the supressed and hurt, and, physically as well when the hurt, sufficiently stirred, retaliate and sometimes inflict punishment on other innocents rather than the real transgressors.
The cause of hate and sorrow. That's you, mister, Naomi said silently looking up into those cold eyes. I've seen you so many times in stores, on the streets, in private citizen "do-gooder" groups that burn homes on the fringes of white neighborhoods, assault women and children, lest they think they can live in a comfortable neighborhood, a decent home like their white counterparts. Yes, I know you. You not only inhabit the South, but you're in the west, mid-west, and even the "liberal,"
"unprejudiced" northeastern states.
Right here in New England-Boston. A place where freedom was born for a new world and slaves were smuggled to freedom in Canada. Hi, Mister nigger-hater. So you've bought my dark little pussy. Let me show you what it's like.
"No!" he warned her off abruptly as she came towards him.
Naomi looked at him questioningly.
He eyed her nervously, still clutching his aching cock.
"You're paying for action, aren't you?" she asked.
"My own kind, not yours," he muttered. "I'm paying, and I'll tell you what to do and how to do it."
The girl shrugged.
He regarded her a long moment, indecisive as to what to do with her, not wishing to lose face, but not wanting to contaminate himself either.
Naomi knew! From childhood he'd probably been taught like so many others not to use the same drinking fountain or toilet as a Negro. He still wasn't sure why, nor had his predecessors been sure why. Just in case, that's all. You never can tell what kind of disease they might carry. Dirty people, you know. Terribly unclean. And promiscuous! Why they probably had just every social disease known to man! She could hear the nasal lilt of one of society's grande dames explaining the problem as it had most likely been presented to this man.
Well? She waited expectantly as he debated how to take her on.
She sat before him, her golden torso posed in a delicate silhouette of feminine curves. Her eyes could see the frantically massaging fingers and the furtive action beneath his pant front.
Then he decided.
"On your knees," he directed, motioning with his free hand.
What's the matter, mister? Afraid of me? You're not touching the merchandise. It's bought and paid for, isn't it? She taunted him silently, her eyes intent on his.
"Shouldn't you take off your things?" she asked.
"Shut up!" he ordered. "I'll do the talking, I'm paying. You're just ... just ... it won't be necessary," he finished nervously.
Somehow he couldn't tell this female, no matter how black she was, what her station in life was. Somehow as she sat there, her lush swells and contours so honey-gold, the words wouldn't come. And yet he couldn't touch her. On general principle, it wasn't possible. After all, any white who'd mate with a black to produce mulatto off-spring like her ...!
Then, suddenly, he reached down and, tangling his hand in her long, dark hair, he jerked her head towards his groin. At the same time she could feel him shuffling forward slightly on her torso until the thin, fleshless bones of his thighs cut through the thin material of his trousers excruciatingly in the firm, fullness of her breasts. She groaned in pain as they were smashed cruelly into her chest from his weight and found her eyes looking straight up into his monstrous, exposed penis. Huge and white, it reared out over her breasts toward her face with the naked blue veins criss-crossing obscenely underneath it.
"Like it, nigger?" he rasped at her. "Like that! It's beautiful, isn't it. Isn't it?"
He rammed it into her face, cupped in his long bony hand.
Naomi swung her head backwards to avoid his onslaught, a feeling of horror and nausea overwhelming her.
She could smell him so strongly now. All her senses reeled, but seemed sharply, bitingly aware of his presence in sight, sound, and smell. He was all cock, huge and hairy, sickeningly white and horribly etched with those blue-tinged veins that showed so grossly under transparent, colorless skin. His balls were purple, dripping twins of wrinkled and seemingly lifeless sacks. His whole groin was a mass of coarse, grey pubic hair covering milky, sharply-defined contours of flesh stretched like dried leather across a framework of knobby, gnarled twigs.
He hadn't washed recently. That was all she could think of. She could smell the intense, lingering odor of dried sweat and come about his loins and emanating from his armpits. It was musty and choking, a twisting, strangling fume that gnawed at her intestines as it filtered through her pinched and paling nostrils. There was even the dank, wretched odor of a recent and prolonged attack of diarrhea.
The fetid stench filled her lungs and throat with dry, bitter loathing. God! She would vomit!
His breathing was loud and filled with intermittent snorts as if he were having trouble catching his breath after a long run. And she could hear the rumbling of gas in his belly.
Take back your money! She wanted to scream. Take back your money!
His claw-like grasp gripped the thick tresses of her head and swung her face upward to look into the cold eyes of hate.
"You like it! Don't you?" he yelled at her. "Isn't a black bastard in the world who has a better prick than that! Just feel it. Nice, huh? No black leather. That's real white flesh, bitch."
He rubbed the length of his long stinking cock against her cheek, across her lips, and under her eyes and nose.
"Kiss it, black whore!" he bellowed. "You'll never get a better opportunity at a prick as nice as this. Kiss til"
With trembling lips she let it touch her. Repulsed and horrified, she allowed her lips to graze its surface.
"Yeah, one of the best," he said lovingly as he stroked it with his long fingers. "Knows how to treat a lady. A lady. But you aren't a lady, are you? Just a common nigger whore. Easily bought. Easily sold. Just live for a fuck, don't you? Especially from a white cock.
"Everyone knows that. You niggers can't find what you need from your own men. Have to come to the white man for real loving, for a good screw. Isn't that so? Isn't that so?"
Oh, God! What did he want? What did he want? Naomi closed her eyes, and in the darkness she piteously sought comfort and understanding. Why can't he take what the others wanted, and go?
"But I can't do that," he was telling her. "You nigger bitches! All you want out of life is a white prick. Well, maybe the others will chance it, but not me. With the filth and scum of the back alleys and your grubby living, your whoring, and men chasing. God only knows what diseases you carry!"
Disease? I'm clean, she hollered back at him with her eyes. I bathe every day. I have a regular physical check-up. And I'm no common street pick-up. You'll find no social diseases with me!
"But seeing as you want my lovely body, my handsome cock," he smiled cruelly as he rasped the words at her, "I tell you what I'm going to do...."
"Don't bother!" Naomi told him drawing back. "Take your money and go. I don't need it, or want it. And I don't want your cock."
He looked at her stunned for a moment. Then he chuckled deep in his throat.
"Not want my cock-that's a laugh!"
"There's a hundred bigger and better," she hissed at him. "And there's real men behind them, not over-grown, sniveling pussies like you that need money and a whore's cunt to make him feel big!"
His eyes were wide with fire.
"Goddamned fucking bitch!" he yelled, and struck a blow across her face with a resounding crack. "I'll teach you your place! You're nothing but a black whore, and don't you forget it!"
Naomi looked at him through narrow slits. She hated him. Hated everything he stood for. But her heart wasn't with it. It was clamoring to escape the prison of her breast. Clamoring to be free. To run from this room and all the fear and anger, the deep-seeded hatred that permeated and filled the shadowed, shrinking chamber.
"You'll do as I tell you and learn your place!" he was fuming at her.
Naomi still leaned away from him, ready to spring to her feet and run. Fear and hate fought together within her and made her heart pound louder and faster in her breast.
Without warning, his belt slid from his trouser waist and he held it, buckle-end hanging from his hand, ready to snap out at her. The silver caught a gleam of light and magnified itself to her eyes. She could hear his laughter as he slowly swung it back and forth and she could feel the bite of its knife-like metal in her skin before it came.
As she crouched there, her feet flat beneath her buttocks, her palms to the floor in readiness she saw the flick of his wrist. The belt sang through the air.
She leaped back.
He gave a half laugh, half disappointed groan. And the belt split the air again with its arc. She was close to a wall. Too close!
"Aaannnhhh!" she screamed, as she thumped against the wall and the whip met its mark.
A red welt formed across her breasts, and she saw blood ooze from the broken, jagged wound where the buckle had cut its mark.
The other two men were on their feet. Before they could say anything, the tall man waved them out. With a hasty scrawl of their pens in leather-bound check books Naomi saw two white check forms flutter her way. And they were going through the door.
The second man hesitated in the doorway for a moment, looking back at Naomi with regret.
"It's none of your damned business," the last man told him. "You've had yours. She's only getting what she asked for. Besides, she's just a black whore."
"None of my business," the man's voice almost whispered.
Then he shrugged and turned.
"See you at the bar," he called over his shoulder and shut the door.
"Want more?" the man asked, turning to Naomi.
Her shoulders hunched protectively around her breasts, her hands gently holding the ravaged nipples protectively, she shook her head.
"N ... no," she whispered.--He pointed to the floor at his feet.
Naomi looked at it, then at the belt.
He raised the weapon once more.
Slowly she arose. Aching in every limb, the burning rip in her sensitive flesh at her tits, all rebelled with her pounding heart. But she made her way across the room to stand before him.
He pointed at the floor once more.
She knew her place, and got to her knees.
Then he was presenting his swollen, massive member again.
"Suck it, bitch!" he snarled down at her, a vicious gleam of hate in his eyes.
Her head was forced up harder and she almost became sick as he pressed his cock hard against her tightly clenched lips. She could feel the warm, sticky fluid that had seeped from the tip of his excitement. It was covering her lips and she smelled the hot, pungent odor of it. His other hand dropped and reached down under his buttocks and his fingernails dug harshly into her left breast.
Tears stung her eyes. She wanted to cry out, to let out the hurt verbally and with weeping. But she couldn't. She had to remain firm as possible. He couldn't make her crumble! She had to be strong!
"Open your mouth, and wide," he grinned evilly as he spat the words down at her.
His nails dug hard into her breast and her mouth gaped open at the pain. He jerked her head forward again until it felt as though he was ripping the hair from her head by the roots. And then ... the monstrous cock filled her mouth, almost choking her as it pressed against her soft palate and gorged all the way back to her tonsils. She gagged, and her stomach heaved; she groaned, her eyes closed, with the horrible thing throbbing urgently in her mouth.
"Suck! Lick!" he grunted, twinging his finger more cruelly into her hair and jerking her head u and down.
Helplessly, her mouth moved up and down on the great prick.
... Oh God, the thoughts ran through her torture mind, perhaps if I make him have an orgasm, he'll leave it at that and let me go.
Suck ... suck ... lick ... lick! Harder! Please come! Please come ... and let me go. The words raced like wildfire through her pained and humiliated thoughts as she sucked like a hungry child feeding at its mother's breast to end her misery.
As she sucked, the huge cock pulsed in the soft wetness of her slaving mouth. There was a stale, musty taste on her tongue and the back of her throat.
Oh how long? How much longer? Her mind chanted over and over again, her head hurting with the constant pull on her hair as he pumped it up and down. She wanted with all her soul for it to end, and yet she didn't. The horrible, obscene thought of his lewd sperm cascading down her throat and into her stomach sickened her and she vowed she would jerk her mouth away at the last minute to avoid this ultimate humiliation. She just couldn't let him have the satisfaction of looking down on her helpless face while he throbbed his viscous, wet sperm down into her mouth ... she just couldn't bear it to give this dirty, lecherous man that final stroke of pleasure.
But the passion-crazed man was not to be denied, and he fucked in and out of her mouth like an avenging angel of doom, spitting obscenities down at the top of her bobbing head as though she were a slave.
"Suck, suck it, bitch! Use your tongue-swirl it around! There-like that! That's it. Lick harder. I'll teach you yet, you black whore!"
Furiously, harder and harder, she worked at her task. Her tongue aching, wanting to fall out as if the threads that held it in place were torn and broken. Her jaw was splitting at the massiveness of his ugly prick. God! Make it end! Make him come before I collapse and die of pain and hurt of humiliation and exhaustion. God! Make it end!
"I'm-I'm commming, I'm commming!" he called; it seemed like centuries before the cry came.
Before Naomi could jerk her head away she felt the huge pulsating cock fucking into her mouth, expanding like a giant balloon and his steel-like hands clamping vice-like on either side of her head, freezing her in that position. And then it exploded, the hot, sticky sperm filling her mouth in great powerful spurts that bloated her cheeks out wide as though her mouth were filled with air. She had to swallow to keep from choking as more and more of the lewd orgasm of the groaning man above her cascaded hotly into her mouth. Her Adam's apple raced crazily up and down her tender throat in a crazy rhythm of desperate gasping sounds that thundered wetly through the room as though nothing else in the world existed.
And for Naomi, it didn't. She slumped limply beneath him, barely able to hold her sitting position when it was all over, feeling his long, thin penis deflating slowly in her mouth. She swallowed once more in order to breathe, and then felt his body lifting from her tortured chest. The prick slipped wetly from her lips, leaving a thin trail of sticky sperm following it across the fullness of her naked, bruised and bleeding breasts.
She heard him chuckle once and then collapse to the floor close to her, his breath coming in short gasps.
Her head hanging on her breasts, her quaking arms and palms on the floor to support her trembling body as it slumped nearly to a prostrate position, she watched the man steadily. Her breasts heaved from her exertion. Her body was wracked with pain. But she would not let him see it.
She would watch him, prostrated from her efforts. He would leave before she could collapse. I'll not let him see me defeated, she told herself, her slender fingers straining at the carpet for support.
He didn't get up for what seemed a very long time.
Finally she dragged herself to her feet and moved to the chair to collect her clothes.
She looked back with loathing at the moaning, limp figure on the floor. And then she looked at the white gown Randy had bought for her, and clutched it tightly in her hands. That beautiful white gown! She drew it to her sore and puffed lips.
The man behind her was struggling to his feet. He tripped once, sliding across his belt, but ignored it and went out, slamming the door behind him.
Naomi looked at the floor where he had lain.
There lay a white slip of paper. Another check. And not more than three feet from it that silver buckled belt.
It had tripped him, Naomi mused with a vague smile. His whip had tripped him!
She felt the smooth satin of her gown in her fingers and at her cheeks: like the satin edge of her crib blanket as a child. But that was torn and ragged with age and use.
Holding out the gown, she took a good look at it. Everything she'd ever wanted! All the good things of life that a white man's money can buy and no black person can come close to without pain and misery.
The light struck the silver buckle again.
Hate and fear. That's what came with wanting what others had without trying. She slaved for it, and what did it get her? Nigger bitch! Whore! Black pussy!
The gown slid from her grasp to the floor and she kicked it away vehemently.
The tears came, the cry of hurt and suffering. She fell back into the haven of the deep-cushioned chair, her vision blurred, and wept.