Chapter 12
When she had heard the footsteps recede and seen the lights go out and found herself in Stygian darkness, Diane Wilson flung herself back down on the cot on her belly and wept unashamedly. The blanket was rough and scratchy, and the throbbing pain of the spanking made her squirm uneasily, so that she was conscious of the rasp of the coarse cloth against her beautifully rounded, closely spaced white titties and the furry crotch of her virgin cunthole. But more than this, she was agonizedly aware of the chill metal clasp of the handcuffs against her slim wrists, for this symbolized more than anything else the atrocious downfall from her vaunted pedestal of patrician superiority.
However, she soon began to feel an irritating pressure in her bladder, and with horror found that she had to urinate. She had taken only a cursory glance at her cell and seen that there was only a washbasin in it. Gingerly she rolled onto her side and carefully sat up, not without a feverish "Ough!" that would have made Gregson Torrance smile with cynical amusement if he had been there to see and hear her.
Now the need grew greater, and with dismay she realized that the lapping up of that sour milk and the stale bread crumbs had probably been instrumental in stimulating the nominal urge to this. Frantically she bit her lips and clenched her thighs together, but it only seemed to make it worse. Now fierce, throbbing and burning waves of discomfort irritated her cunthole, and her began to rise and fall violently as she whimpered. What could she do? The only thing she could think of was the washbasin, and at last with a groan of shame, she got to her feet and very carefully took tiny shuffling steps in the darkness until she bumped her tender bottom against the cold porcelain bowl. Again she uttered a gasp, and then, arching on her tiptoes, very carefully squenched her behind over the edge of the washbasin, fumbling with her hampered hands to try to get some sort of fulcrum or hold. The anxiety feeling of falling was a dread suspense and terror for the naked young heiress, but at last she felt herself seated in the basin and then, bursting into tears, eased her bladder. The warm touch of her own piss drenched her thighs and made her miserably conscious of how far she had fallen from the heights of aristocracy and arrogance.
When it was over, she eased herself down with a groan of pain, because it sent muscular tensions through her tender behind. Then she hobbled back to her cot, nudging for it with a foot, and finally laid herself-down on her side, closed her eyes and tried to sleep. At last fatigue claimed her, and she was plunged into dreamless slumber.....
"Time to rise and shine, IT white gal," she heard a jeering voice jar through the foggy and drowsy darkness that still engulfed her. Slowly she sat up, blinking her eyes. The lights were on again, and there were no windows down here to show the passing of time. And she saw that Ben, the Negro who had whipped her, was standing outside her cell, clad only in a jockstrap and sandals, hands on hips and grinning at her.
"Ohhhhh! Is it-is it morning?"
"Dat right, honeygal. Time foah you b'eskfast. Ah'm gonna let you out right now, so's you kin eat it real fast. After dat, Miz' Myrna is gonna come down and give you whut you might call a I'll exercise in what you might call the rumpus room." He jerked his thumb backward over his shoulder, toward the cell containing the various apparatuses which she had only quickly glimpsed in her agonizing s‚ance of degradation the night before.
With this, he unlocked the cell and gestured for her to come out. Her face flooded with crimson now as she meekly moved towards the open door. She was aware that his eyes were feasting on her titties and cunt, and she dug her nails into her palms and wished that she could at least cover the most intimate part of her body with her hands.
There on the floor of the basement was a bowl containing cornflakes and cream, with a little sugar. There was also another bowl, a smaller one, with black, strong coffee, and the odor was good. She sank down on her knees and began to eat the cereal while the Negro watched. In his right hand he held a "spanker," which was nothing more nor less than an old warn black leather sole from a heavy slipper or sandal. However, he did not have to use it, for Diane found herself actually hungry. The coffee revived her, and she drank it eagerly.
When she finished, he chuckled, "Not too bad Mistah Torrance, he gwine to be real pleased you did so good de fust time, but you got a long way to go yet, ofay gal. Now jist to show me you ain't trickin' none, s'pose you crawl over heah, git youh head down and kiss ma feet good, so's Ah kin heah it."
He purposely used the Negroid drawl and slur, to emphasize to Diane Wilson his black origin. Truth to tell, both Joe and Ben had excellent educations and were members of a Hollywood dramatic society. They were semi-professional actors, and since they had been at liberty for a month, Gregson Torrance had located them through his own methods and explained what he had in mind. The prospect of taming a haughty white young shrew-for such Diane Wilson assuredly was-as well as of a substantial cash bonus, as well as the assurance that there would be no possible legal consequences for either of them, with the implied hint that they might even be permitted to enjoy her sexual favors, had made both Negroes leap at the opportunity the New York banker had offered them.
Shuddering with rancor, because in broad daylight-or at least morning that was such-this humiliation seemed even more grotesque than it had last night when fatigue and pain had overwhelmed her, Diane Wilson had reluctantly bowed her head and applied her trembling lips to the bare toes of her Negro guard.
"Louder 'n dat, ofay bitch," he growled, to her startled anxiety, and when she hurriedly kissed his foot again, he bent over her and applied a stinging Whackkk! to her naked ass.
"Aiieeeowouuuu!! ! Oh, don't! It hurts so! Oh please don't beat me, please don't!" she at once wailed, half-raising her body and trying to reach the brightly splotched area with her handcuffed hands, wishing to rub it out as she wriggled and squirmed on her knees.
"Now you jist git down dar and kiss mah feet agin, plenty loud, or you'll git plenty spankin' on dat big ofay ass of yourn," he warned.
Once more Diane Wilson's cheeks were flooded with tears as she forced herself to comply with the ignominious edict. But once again, under the pretext that he did not hear the kiss loud enough, Ben leaned forward once again and planted another vigorous Crack! with the leather spanker on the other cheek, leaving two vivid outlines of the implement imprinted on her already tender, naked, quaking flesh. Once again she shrieked with pain, reaching fruitlessly with her manacled hands to rub the afflicted area, but she could not reach it. Once more she bowed her head down and three times more kissed that same foot before at last he let her kneel up.
He observed with amusement how her hands were straining to try to yank her wrists down and get her hands on the flaming splotches left by the spanker. "Cut dat out," he at last said. "Heah comes Miz' Myrna. You better hop real smart and quick when she calls de tune, or youah gonna git moah dan dis yeah spanker on yer big white ass, gal! Moh-nin',Miz' Myrna!"
"Good morning, Ben dear. Well, I see the little bitch has had her breakfast and you've put her through a little course in humility. Has she called you master yet?"
"Hey deah now, she sho didn't! Git down back over my feet, gal, and kiss dem all ovah again and say 'Good morning', Massah' " the Negro growled, brandishing the spanker and waving it in so menacing away that Diane hastily groveled at his feet again, sobbing, but hastily doing as she was told.
"Now you can kiss mine and call me mistress, bitch," Myrna observed when this was completed. And when Diane turned to contemplate the mulatress, she gasped aloud. For Myrna was stark naked except for should-length red leather gloves and matching thigh-high boots in red leather, high-heeled, her furry cunthole and her magnificent jutting titties unveiled completely.
"Only seein' as how I'm a gal, bitch," Myrna went on with an amused smile, "I don't want you to kiss my boots yet. Crawl up here and put your mouth on my cunt, kiss it nice and sweet and say 'Good morning, Mistress!'"
"Oh no-I won't do that-that's filthy-that's indecent-you have no right to try to make me do such a thing!" Once again Diane Wilson's rancor overcame her and led her into the folly of defiance.
Myrna's eyes glinted with glee and narrowed with cruelty as they surveyed the naked, handcuffed, kneeling, sobbing heiress. "So!" she exclaimed. "She's not as well trained as you might believe, Ben boy," Myrna pronounced at last. "It's a good thing I'm going to spend the morning with this little bitch. She's going to learn to do a lot of things she never dreamed she'd know at her age. All right, Ben, open the cell door and let's get out little pupil started on her lessons. Go and tell Mr. Torrance that we're ready to start. If he's still sleeping, let him be. We had quite a night for ourselves." With this, she grinned bawdily at Ben, who grinned in response.
Diane Wilson, sickened with revolt and nausea at the implication which she understood only too well, and even more revolted at the notion of what Myrna planned to have her to do, she watched while Ben opened the farther cell door and tossed Myrna the spanker. The beautiful mulatress bent down and brandished it in Diane's face.
"Now you cut out that whining, you bitch, or
I'll really give you something to whine about. Now you crawl on in there on your knees, and then you're going to do what I tell you to. Do you hear me?" Myrna hissed menacingly.
"Oh God, I can't do that-it's-it's indecent ... it's dirty-"
"Are you telling me that my cunt's dirty and you refuse to suck it, you snooty little ofay bitch? I'll learn you, you watch!" the mulatress snarled, and then, instead of spanking Diane, who had already quailed and inched herself forward as if to protect her all-too-tender and vulnerable ass, Myrna moved swiftly and felinely in front of the unhappy heiress. Then, gripping her by the shoulder with her left hand, Myrna with a cruel grin drew back the spanker and landed a solid blow on Diane's left tittie, just at the outside of the curve.
"Ahrrrrahwrrrrr-oh God, not there any more-you'll kill me-don't hit me any more there-it hurts too much!" Diane shrieked.
"So we've found a sensitive place at last, more of her ass, huh? Get on in there, you bitch," Myrna growled, and this time, moving around, she applied two stinging smacks on each of Diane Wilson's shuddering naked assglobes.
Wailing and sobbing, twisting and jerking on her knees, the harassed and naked heiress crawled slowly forward into the floor-padded larger cell, and Myrna clanged the door shut after them both.
Then, planting herself with legs astraddle before the whimpering, weeping young woman, Myrna Johnson commanded, "Now you stop that, do you hear me? You crawl over her and put your mouth on my cunt and you kiss and suck it good, and then you say 'Good morning, Mistress' just like I told you to say. You hear me?"
"Oh God-I can't-oh please, don't make me do that-haven't I done everything else-why are you so cruel to me-why are you so inhuman?" Diane wailed.
"Because you've got a dirty, nasty ofay mind, that's why. Because kissing a girl's cunt is a sweet, nice thing, if you had the sense to know it, you bitch. You never had any friends in your life, not even men, from what I hear tell. Well, you're going to learn to do everything. You're going to be just like a little baby, and babies get spanked when they're naughty. Do you want something like this? Do you want your titties whacked some more-like this?"
Suddenly lunging out, Myrna Johnson whacked Diane Wilson right over her left nipple with the supple leather sole. The naked heiress tilted back her head, with a frantic, wordless shriek, shrill and agonized. Her body wrenched and twisted, and on the fine necreous skin of her tittie, the angry bright pink splotch of the spanker sole appeared, while the nipple seemed darker and more swollen than ever.
"Do you want some more?" Myrna demanded, waving the sole in front of the girl's screwed-up, tear-bathed face. Diane definitely did not.
Whimpering, shivering, the beautiful heiress moved forward on her knees. Then, with a guttural snarl of delight and sensuality, the naked mulatress plunged her gloved left fingers into the light-brown curls of the unfortunate captive and, yanking at them, hissed, "Go-on, do it! Otherwise, I'll whack your tits off, you bitch!"
With a moan, Diane Wilson closed her eyes and shudderingly forced her mouth against the pungent, moist, warm cleft. The thick silky cuntcurls of the mulatress tickled and brushed her nostrils and chin, and she groaned. But suddenly the sole fell twice, each time on the base of the left buttocks, and she shrieked aloud, and then weaving her hips this way and that, she pressed her mouth firmly against Myrna Johnson's cunt.
"That's better. That's it. Now do it loud and suck, so I can hear it good. Now let me hear it, or I'll whack your ass and tits off, both," was the gloating command.
Diane Wilson obeyed, tears running down her cheeks, quaking on her knees, her own titties panting with frantic and feverish emotion. At last the suctional sounds which her lips made in that osculatory gesture satisfied the mulatress, and she moved away.
"Now then, tell me good morning and use the proper word," she demanded, and Diane hastened in a faltering, choked tone to say, "Good morning, M-Mistress!"
The regimen of degradation and humiliation had truly begun for beautiful Diane Wilson, but she was still far from realizing to what a morass of lustful usage her beautiful virginal body would be subjected, and how her mind and spirit would be channeled to the will of her tormentors and this indomitable and vindictive mulatress who was the concubine of her own administrator!
Now Diane was obliged to move to the sawhorse, and was told to straddle over it. She found she could do this by standing on the tips of her toes, otherwise the sharp ridge would bite into her tender cunt. Once more her wrists strained against the shackles, her long, slim fingers frantically twisting and digging to break loose, to try to hold onto the ridge and so loft herself in the event her leg muscles could not sustain the stress imposed on them.
Myrna moved around her, her beautiful bubbles jiggling, displaying herself and making certain that Diane saw her cunt and titties constantly. Brandishing the spanker, she playfully tapped Diane on the bubbies and warned the girl, "Now don't you dare leg go, or you'll sure rub your pussy raw, white gal! This is good for helping your muscles out and making you bend your legs pretty good. You're going to do a lot of squatting and crawling before we're through with you, so get your leg muscles in shape now.. Now lower yourself until the top of that sawhorse just touches your pussy-that's good-push yourself up with your toes-good! You just keep doing that until I say stop."
"Oh, but it hurts! I'm so tired-it hurts me-oh please, won't you have mercy, mistress," Diane moaned.
For answer, Myrna seized from a panoply on the wall a three-thonged martinet, the lashes of which were three and a half feet long, tapering to fiendishly tipped ends that would give a ferocious sting to sensitive girl-flesh. Whistling the lashes in the air, she approached the sawhorse, and Diane uttered a cry.
"Oh, don't use that on me, mistress-please don't!"
"You'd better not have me use this whip, or I could take your nipples off, you big white slut. And" I could take the skin off your white ass, if I want to. Now keep doing those pushups, if you wanna save your cunt," Myrna said contemptuously.
Crying like a child, Diane Wilson raised herself back and forth, until the muscles in her feet and calves and thighs rebelled, and then she sank down, with a cry, her head tilting back, her eyes bulging as she felt the atrociously sharp ridge of the sawhorse pressing against her virgin quim.
"Oh please, take me off it, mistress-oh my God, it hurts-it's cutting me between the legs-oh my God, I don't want you to whip me any more-oh, have mercy!" she shrieked. I've done what you wanted-have mercy!"
"Do you promise to do everything I order you to do, if I take you off?"
"Oh yes, everything! Ahrrrgh-oh please, please, please!"
"Okay. Just walk yourself off it, that's all you have to do, you stupid ofay," Myrna laughed.
Diane made a last effort, and limping, shivering, she managed to move away from the vicious sawhorse, and then collapsed upon the padded floor where she sprawled, her wrists still locked behind her, crying wholeheartedly.
At last, through the blur of tears, she saw the toes of the red leather boots standing beside her. "Kiss my boots, slave!" she heard Myrna command, and Diane obeyed again, dominated and crushed by pain and terror.
"Now then, slave, since I'm the mistress and you're the maid, I'm going to use you for my pleasure. Do you understand?" the mulatress at last demanded.
Diane groaned and shook her head, staring haggardly at her tormentress. Myrna made the thongs of the martinet whistle in the air as she moved towards a low, wide bench and then sprawled herself upon it, her knees drawn well up and straddled widely, exposing the entirety of her enticing cunt.
"Come over here, git on that bench, put your head down and lick and suck and kiss my cunt until I cream. Do you understand, white gal?"
"Oh, I can't-don't make me do that-oh please, I can't-I can't!"
"You can't? Maybe you'd rather I called Ben and Joe in here and have them tie you up to that whipping post over there. And then they could take two whips just like this to your ass and your tits. And then I'd make them stick pins in your sore ass and tits-yes, I would, Diane, until you got down on your knees and sucked their pricks. Would you rather I'd do that, Diane? All I have to do is ring this bell here in the wall, and it'll bring them running. Do you want me to?"
"NOOOOO!! STOP!" Diane shrieked, beside herself with frenzied terror and shame.
"All right. Then do what I told you to. And if you don't make me cream, you get twenty swats with this whip on your bare ass, now remember that," Myrna warned.
She watched Diane Wilson crawl towards her, tears running down her cheeks, trembling, her beautiful bubbies jiggling and shaking as she came. And on those white, round, closely spaced love-globes, there flamed the splotched of the spanker.
Arrived at the bench, poor Diane clambered upon it and moved towards the hugely inviting gape which Myrna Johnson had made of her cunthole.
"That's it! Now git your face down on my cunt and lick. I want you to gam me real hard," she commanded.
Casually she flicked out her right arm, and the tips of the martinet stung Diane's bare back. With a cry, the young woman forced her mouth against the odorous cunthole, and began to kiss and suck lick, as the thongs playfully flicked her and there over her shuddering white body.
"That's nice. Not too fast, now. Now stick your tongue in. Do you feel that little button? Give it to me there-rub it back and forth-now you're getting the idea, baby-Mmmmmm, that's nice-you'd better stay like that or I'll whip the shit out of you-now, now, you little gamahucher, suck my tittie cream-you're beating black pussy, lap it up-now!" Myrna suddenly cried hoarsely as her body suddenly quaked and threshed about. She crushed her fleshy love lips against Diane's revolted mouth, but the frightened heiress did not dare withdraw her face, and thus the incredible reversal of fate made this haughty Negro-hating patrician heiress gamahuch the mulatress mistress of the man who had brought her to this pass!