(6/9) (Crime Drama, nc, not pc)
SOUTHERN HOSPITALITY
by Rhett Dreams (c. 1996)
Author's note: This story borrows characters from two novels by Thomas Harris:
"Red Dragon" and "Silence of the Lambs." It is highly recommended that you
read this particular story in order; otherwise, you miss important elements of
the plot.
Warning: This fictitious story is decidedly NOT politically correct and is
intended for mature readers.
Chapter Six
They found Nora out in the yard pulling weeds when Myers pulled the
Explorer into the driveway. He told his daughter that he'd change and join
her, and went into the house.
"I suppose you want me to disappear tonight," said Nora, wiping the sweat
from her brow. It was quite hot and very humid.
"That's not necessary, Nora. It's not as if we're gonna do anything that
you haven't... shit, girl, is there anything that would fit in that category?"
Nora grinned and then made her face into a thoughtful pose. "Well,
Clarice, maybe you could join me with Lou tonight. I've never done a three-way
with another girl."
Clarice laughed. "I think poor Lou has his hands full with just you."
"And dad would be devastated."
"That too."
"Say, Nora," continued Clarice, "Why don't you invite Lou over here for
dinner tonight. I'll cook. Nothing fancy. How does blackened fish sound?"
"Sounds yummy. I'll call him, but I think he's afraid of dad."
Clarice put her hand on her hip and posed with her hip out. "But he may
come anyway, given the other company."
"I'll call," she said, grinning.
Clarice went inside to check on things she would need for dinner and to
make her shopping list, then took the Explorer to the fish market and grocery
store. When she returned Nora and Gene were taking a break from their
gardening, drinking iced tea in the patio under the large elm. She put away
the groceries and joined them.
"So tonight I get to see if you can cook, woman," said Gene, pouring a
glass of iced tea for Starling.
"You're such an old-fashioned chauvinistic pig, dad," said his daughter.
He shrugged his shoulders. "Oink."
"Blackened fish fillets, Mexican Cole slaw with jalapenos and mustard,
home-made french fries, ice-cold beer."
"Oh boy," he said.
"She's gonna make somebody a good wife, dad," teased Nora.
"We'll have to wait and see," he said. "We haven't eaten the food yet."
"Oink, oink," she said, punching her father on the arm.
Lou wasn't in when Nora called, so she left him a message. He didn't
return the call until after they'd finished the delicious dinner that Starling
prepared. Nora excused herself and brought the portable phone back inside.
"That was passable, Starling," he said after eating seconds of
everything.
"High praise indeed," she said, "considering how well Nora takes care of
you."
"Yeah, during the summers, but this may be the last one she spends here.
The job market is so competitive that she thinks she needs research jobs on her
resume, and has applied for an internship at Scripts and Woods Hole for next
summer."
"Good for her."
"Yep. Y'know, Starling, the food was really incredible. If you were any
good in the sack, you'd be a great catch."
"I'm working on it, Myers," she said. "I've got a great tutor in mind,
someone who can help me get over my straight-laced ways."
"That's good to hear. What's the next lesson?"
"Hmmm. Well, let me put it this way -- I don't think I'm gonna be a
virgin after tonight."
"That's a good place to start," he said as his daughter returned.
"Lou just got back," she said. "He was out fishing with his dad. As
soon as he cleans up he'll come pick me up."
"Another movie tonight?" asked Clarice, and Gene stared uncomprehendingly
as both girls broke out in laughter.
After Nora left with Lou, Clarice washed dishes while Gene cleared the
table.
"You know what bugs me about this case," she said over her shoulder to
Gene. She was at the sink, finishing the last of the dishes, and he was
leaning against the counter, drinking a beer that he'd just taken from the
freezer.
"No shop talk, Starling."
"I know, I know. But I can't figure out how they moved so fast. Beth
leaves New Orleans at seven p.m., on a Sunday, and her car is at the Jackson
shop Monday, the next day. Same thing with the other cases. That's fast work.
And how did they abduct them in the first place?"
"Excellent questions, Starling," said Gene, wrapping his hands around her
and pressing himself against her back, trapping her against the sink. "But
we're not gonna think about that tonight."
"No?" she said, setting the rinsed pot aside, enjoying the feel of his
body against hers.
His hands moved up and cupped her breasts through the tee shirt.
"You're not wearing a bra, Agent Starling," he whispered into her ear.
"And they say you're a lousy detective," she joked, feeling her nipples
stiffen under his huge hands, and the tingling from her sex. After a few
moments she could also feel his bulge pressing into the small of her back.
"I've fallen in love with you, Clarice," she heard him say, knowing with
certainty that this gentle giant had uttered similar words only once before.
He turned her and they kissed for a long time, the he hugged her to him,
crushing her to his chest.
"There won't be anyone to... love you back if you don't stop," she said,
barely having enough air in her lunges get it out.
They made love slowly, allowing their passions to build gradually and in
concert. Their kisses were lengthy, and their hands touched and probed and
caressed each other as his cock moved slowly back and forth in her sex. They
came together in the end, her legs wrapped around his waist, moaning their
pleasure into one another's mouths an they kissed through their orgasms.
When he took her ass an hour later, it was only after preparing her
carefully and with great tenderness. He first gave her an enema, filling her
bowels twice with the warm cleansing liquid, adding a special oil to the second
bag. Kneeling behind her on the bed, Gene fucked her first with a thin,
well-lubricated anal dildo and then with a thicker one. After a minute or so
he could tell that she was enjoying the thicker shaft and he flipped the switch
at the end, turning on the gentle vibrator. Clarice came after less than a
minute from the incredible sensations of the humming shaft driving in and out
of her virgin ass.
He greased his cock and positioned the head at her rosette, talking to
her softly, telling her to push back against him when he pushed in.
Clarice did as he suggested, groaning loudly as his cock popped past her
tight anal muscle and lodged itself an inch or so inside. He was much thicker
than the vibrator that he had used earlier, and it hurt. He kept his cock
where it was, his hands caressing her back and ass, and after a minute the pain
lessened.
"Try again," she said, and braced herself for his next thrust.
"Ohhhhh," she groaned, willing herself to push back against him as his
cock drove deeper inside her. "Oh Jesus... I'm... I'm so goddamn full!"
"You okay?"
"Yeah... wait a while... Oh, Jesus... let me got used to it."
Gene was patient, remembering the first time he had done this, ten years
earlier, with his wife. It had taken several minutes to enter her completely
that night, at which point he promptly erupted from the incredibly tight
feeling of her ass and the novelty of the taboo act. This time, with Starling,
he was glad that he'd first cum in her pussy. He knew that he wouldn't be able
to hold back his orgasm otherwise.
At her signal, he eased forward, driving another inch or so in her ass.
Starling's ass gripped his cock like a vice, with four inches of his shaft now
buried inside her. It took three more thrusts before he was fully inside her.
"That's it, babe. I'm all the way in."
"Jesus, Gene... how'd I ever let you... talk me into this," she said, her
voice strained. Then she then laughed softly.
"Just wanted to save on condoms?" he suggested.
She chuckled, then winced when Gene shifted his position, balancing
himself with one hand on the bed, lowering his head so he could kiss her back.
His free hand found her breasts and caressed the firm mounds.
"How does it feel?" he asked, sliding his hand down to her sex.
"Like I'm split in two... incredibly full. But not terrible."
He eased out very slowly, letting her natural muscular action help expel
the thick intruder. The second time back in seemed to take nearly as long as
the first, with Clarice groaning at each thrust. But after the forth time both
of them noticed that it was much easier. Her groans were softer. By the sixth
time he was able to cork her completely with one steady thrust.
"Oh, God," she said, feeling his balls slap into her sex when he bottomed
out.
"This feels incredible, Clarice... so tight... so nasty." He kept his
cock stationary while his hand caressed her hanging tits.
"It's... okay... better now," she said. "Go ahead, Gene, I want to feel
you really fuck me, slowly though."
He shifted his position again, kneeling upright behind her, and withdrew
his cock. He paused only briefly before driving it back inside, to the hilt,
his balls slapping into her sex. He continued to fuck her with a slow even
pace, her passage easier now but still deliciously tight.
"I'm fucking you now, Clarice Starling... fucking your sweet tight ass."
"This ain't bad, Gene... Oh, my!"
"Lower your shoulders to the bed, Clarice, and reach back to feel me...
feel me fucking my cock into your nasty ass."
She did as he suggested, and he felt her fingers on his balls, then on
the slippery union of his lubricated cock driving back and forth in her ass.
"Finger yourself, babe... cum for me."
She slipped her fingers into her sex, and could feel his driving cock
through the tissue that separated her two passages. She then rubbed her clit,
bringing herself to the edge before stopping the direct contact to the
sensitive nub.
"Oh, my, Gene... fuck me harder now... cum in me... oh, yes," she said,
her senses alive with the feeling coming from her ass. The earlier pain and
discomfort were gone, replaced by sensations that were new to her, an
incredibly sexy feeling of fullness, of being thoroughly and completely Fucked.
His cock felt huge, utterly and wonderfully huge as he drove it faster, harder,
his hands gripping her hips for leverage.
"Fuck my ass, Gene... fuck it hard... cum in me," she cried, her fingers
returning to her clit and rubbing, bringing her very quickly over the edge.
"Ohhhhhhh," she cried as her body experienced the greatest orgasm of her
life, her senses overwhelmed by the intense waves of pleasure coming from her
ass and cunt. The waves continued and intensified when she felt his cock throb
in her ass and erupt.
"Oh, God! Oh, yes!" she heard him chant through his own release, his
hips slamming into her ass as his cock squirted hot cum deep in her bowels.
- o -
Trent heard about the Jackson bust Sunday morning, when Ward Price called
him at home and read him the short article that had appeared in the Sunday
paper. The tone of his voice told the sheriff that his partner was close to
panic. It was hard to imagine an illegal cut-up shop maintaining customer
records, not for that part of their business, and he told Price this. Trent
hid his own growing concern and spoke calmly and evenly to his partner, telling
him they had no choice but to ride it out.
When he hung up, he thought about his own situation. Unlike the Price
brothers, who he suspected had much of their wealth tied up in their home,
business, and their large fishing boat, his wealth was very liquid. He had
almost $150,000 in his local bank accounts and the $320,000 waiting in his
secret account in the Cayman Islands. On the other hand, if he took off when
it wasn't necessary, he'd lose the pension money from the Bureau. His capital
alone wasn't nearly enough to live on.
Trent was always one to plan ahead, and he had two perfect sets of forged
identity papers for when and if he had to bail out. He still believed it
unlikely that the investigation of the Jackson operation would lead to the
Price brothers, and it was extremely unlikely that they'd pick up the Prices
without his advanced knowledge as County Sheriff.
All the same, he reviewed his escape plan and then thought about Celeste.
He'd grow attached to the black girl, especially lately. She'd grown more
submissive with every passing day, often initiating the action herself. He
knew he couldn't take her with him if he did have to bolt, and decided to put
aside another $5,000 for her.
"Celeste," he called, and she came in from the kitchen where she was
fixing lunch.
"Yes, masser," she said, her eyes registering hope that he'd want to fuck
her.
"C'mer, Celeste... sit. And none of that "masser" stuff, for now."
She sat in the chair as directed and he explained that he'd put aside
some money should she ever decide to move on. She began to object but waved it
aside. He reminded her that he was a cop and there was always the chance of
him being shot or something. He told her that she should take the cash in the
cupboard, pack her things, and take a cab to Rosie's. He knew that sex was
this girl's most marketable skill and that she'd be well treated by Rosie.
"Here's her address, and I'll write a note of introduction," he said.
"Both will be in the metal tin in the cabinet over the fridge. You understand
what I'm saying? Anything happens to be, you should take the money, it's
yours, and go to Rosie's. You can decide to keep going, on your own, or stay
there, after talking to Rosie. Okay?"
"Yeah, sure," she said.
With that out of the way, he sat back and looked at the girl, letting his
glance take in the breasts under the thin cotton dress, and the rest of her
body. Celeste noticed the change in him and her face took on an expectant
look.
"You wanna fuck your nasty nigger girl, masser?"
His eyes returned her face, and he felt his cock stiffen in his pants.
He reached down and unbuckled his belt, his eyes on the girl's thick lips.
"No, but I would like to see those nigger lips wrapped around my cock."
Sheriff Trent sat back and relaxed while the girl whipped off her dress
and knelt between his legs, searching for his cock in his pants. He let her
suck him for almost ten minutes, until he was set to explode. When he was
ready he pushed her off him and took a hold of his cock, pumping it through his
orgasm and sending thick ropes of cum all over the young girl's face and
breasts.
- o -
All hell broke lose Monday morning. Myers and Starling got to the office
early and outlined the briefing they would shortly give to the whole team.
Quinn had flown back down the night before and they expected him and the same
five other agents to join then at eight o'clock in the "War Room".
"It's for you, Clarice," said Myers after answering his phone. "Jack
Crawford."
"Starling here," she said into the phone.
"I've got Congressman Walters on the line as well, Agent Starling," said
her boss, his tone telling her that she wouldn't be pleased by this call.
"Hello, Congressman," she said, warily.
"I've got bad news, Agent Starling." He proceeded to tell her now his
wife got ambushed by a reporter the day before, who had somehow uncovered the
kinky sex angle on the deaths of Debbie Walters and Henry Burns, and was
writing an article for Monday's paper. The Congressman admitted that he'd
briefed his wife on what Starling and told him, that the earlier conclusion
drawn from the evidence may not be correct. His wife, wanting to protect her
daughter's reputation, told the reporter that the FBI was investigating a
series of missing person cases, all involving expensive cars, and believed that
her daughter's case might be linked to them. She told the reporter that her
daughter most certainly would not have voluntarily engaged in the acts that
preceded her death.
The Congressman then read her the front page article that appeared in the
morning edition of the Birmingham paper. It couldnt have been worse. The
enterprising reporter had taken what he'd learned from Mrs. Walters and somehow
linked it to the Jackson bust, quoting unnamed sources in the Jackson police
department. Clarice Starling's name was mentioned as the FBI agent in charge
of the investigation, and the report added a couple of paragraphs about her
solving the two year old "Buffalo Bill" case.
Myers had been watching her during the call, and saw her face reflect
concern and then become very pale.
"I couldn't be sorrier," concluded Congressman Walters. "Normally I
wouldn't share anything sensitive with Harriet, but this thing has to do with
our daughter, and the circumstances of her death have been eating her up.
Quite plainly, I just screwed up."
"I understand, Congressman," said Clarice.
"What this means, Starling," said Jack Crawford, "Is your timetable just
got pushed up. The story will be picked up by the wire services and it will be
everywhere by tomorrow. The perps will do all they can to cover their tracks
and may just take off and run, now that they know how close you are."
- o -
While Starling and Myers briefed the team on the latest findings, Sheriff
Trent was in his office, hand writing a note to Rosie that explained, as best
he knew, Celeste's background and his belief that the girl would be a welcome
addition to Rosie's stable.
"Hey, Sheriff." He raised his head to see that one of his deputies had
opened his door and stuck his head in. "Remember that Walters girl, the
Congressman's daughter? You had us checking all the gas stations in the area to
see if anyone remembered her or the kid who supposedly killed her."
"Yeah," said Trent, keeping his voice even. "What about her?"
"I heard on the radio coming in, that the Feds believe her case is linked
to a dozen MPs and some sort of car theft ring."
"No shit?" Trent waved him in, his mouth suddenly dry.
"Yeah. Front-page article in the Birmingham paper, quoting the
Congressman's wife. Seems the Feds and the Staties busted a cut-up shop in
Jackson over the weekend and found something."
Trent got the deputy out of his office as quickly as possible, then
turned his radio on and tuned it to an all-news station. The report was
repeated ten minutes later. Fighting down his panic, he thought about the news
and what it meant. They must have found some records in the Jackson operation
that identified the specific cars that the Price brothers had sold to them,
which meant that someone in the Bureau was still hard at work investigating the
missing people of the past year or so. The radio report mentioned the name of
Clarice Starling, and referred to the "Buffalo Bill" case she solved.
This Starling bitch couldnt possibly have his partners identified, he
reasoned, or they would have picked them up by now. He thought about how he'd
manage the investigation if it was his case and decided that it might be just a
matter of days before the Feds began checking on tow truck operators. Maybe
sooner. The stolen cars could have been driven up to Jackson but that would be
risky. The Price brothers would be questioned closely and Trent thought it
likely that his partners would fuck it up.
He was under no illusions about his partners. If they were picked up
they would very quickly strike a deal and give them his name. The Price's
would claim that they had no role in the abductions or the deaths, and were
only involved in the sale of the stolen cars. They would readily accept any
deal that involved less jail time in exchange for their testimony against him.
He, on the other hand, had nothing to trade.
He would be fucked.
He looked at the letter on his desk, to Rosie, and decided right then
that he'd have to leave. He would call his brother at the bank and then go
downtown to clear out accounts, drive to N'Orleans and buy a ticket to New York
under one of his fake ID's. In New York he'd buy a ticket to Miami and from
there to the Cayman Islands. Eventually, they'd discover his involvement and
find his car at the N'Orleans airport. A thorough investigation of all flights
and passengers out of there, looking closely at anyone who paid cash for a
ticket, might lead them to a few dozen names, one of which would be his alias.
But it would but it would be impossible to trace him further, especially if he
landed at Kennedy and took a cab or two over to Newark for the next leg of his
journey, and used a second name.
Resolved, he called his brother.
"There's just no way, Paul," said the banker when he got him on the line.
"You've got a little over $152,000 in your accounts. We don't keep that much
cash on hand. This is a small rural bank, bro. I can give you some cash and
the rest in travelers cheques, or a bank check. Or I can order the cash from
the Federal Reserve, but were talking Wednesday morning if I do it today.
What's the hurry?"
Trent made up an excuse for needing the money and told him to order the
cash. When he hung up, his palms were sweating.
"God fucking dammit," he muttered. It hadn't occurred to him that it
would take days to get his cash or he would have kept more of it stashed at
home.
Trent paced back and forth in his office and found it difficult to think
as clearly as was usually the case. He realized that he was doing himself no
good and that he felt trapped. He needed to calm down, relax, and calmly
examine his options. Being here in the office, facing constant interruptions,
wasn't going to help him. And he dreaded getting a call from Ward or Sam Price
after they hear the same news report.
He placed a call home, to Celeste, then collected his stuff and left. He
told his secretary that he was going home sick and the woman, seeing his pale
face, had no trouble believing him ill.
- o -
Frank Trent pressed the intercom button that connected him to his private
secretary in the outer office.
"Yes, Mr. Trent?"
"Could you reschedule the asset review meeting for later this week. I
have to tend to a family emergency."
After she acknowledged his directive he placed a call to the Federal
Reserve and ordered Paul's cash delivered. Then he sat back in his chair and
closed his eyes, deep in thought. He felt sure that Paul was preparing to flee
for some reason. Knowing his brother as well as he did, he knew he could assume
it was for a good reason. It followed that when and if the authorities
discovered the scope of Paul's activities, they would search for partners. The
investigation would certainly attempt to trace the money flow, and he knew that
the Bureau and the Treasury Department would immediately investigate him. It
wouldn't take long before theyd discover how he'd laundered Paul's cash and
his own share of the gains. That would lead them to his other laundering
activities, and he'd be lucky to spend only five years in prison.
Frank Trent had secured, through Paul, his own sets of forged identity
papers. Unlike Paul, however, Frank had placed most of his personal wealth in
high-grade diamonds that were easy to transport and reasonably liquid. The
rest was in an off-shore account that he had set up even more carefully than
Paul's, so he could wire the funds to or from just about any bank on the
planet. He could leave at any moment, and go just about anyplace.
He left his office and used the public phone in a coffee shop to make a
few calls and set up his escape.
- o -
Myers, Starling, Quinn and the other five agents had been crowded into
the small conference room for an hour now. Myers had briefed everyone on the
Jackson bust. Alternating between the large map showing the likely routes and
the exhibit on the wall that summarized the information they'd culled from the
journal, he succinctly reviewed each case. The excitement in the room was
palatable at this breakthrough. It dimmed somewhat when Starling made her
report on the Congressman's screw-up, the newspaper article, and urgency this
placed on their efforts.
"I believe we need to nail this one quickly, before the perps shut down
and run, probably out of the country."
Agent Susan James then reviewed a second large map that she had posted
earlier, showing in greater detail the gulf coast from Pensacola to N'Orleans.
She had highlighted several rural highways that might be candidates for
travelers to take. They debated for few minutes before choosing three as the
most likely routes.
"Being thorough has got to take a back seat for now," said Myers. "We
need to move quickly, and we'll start with those three. If we come up empty
we'll expand the search."
They discussed a few more details, then assigned teams. Quinn and
another agent would stay here and coordinate based on reports from the field.
They would also be checking criminal records of residents in these areas,
looking for anyone with the initials PB, and would check for a match on
owners/operators of any gas station, restaurant and towing operation.
Myers assigned himself and Starling to check the route he believed most
likely, a two-lane highway through the rural Jackson county in the southeast
corner of Mississippi. They took his Explorer, and he used a portable police
flasher to make his way through N'Orleans traffic to Interstate 10 and then
sped east at nearly eighty miles per hour.
- o -
"Oh... Oh... Oh," mewed the young black girl as Paul Trent drove his long
cock into her ass. She'd received his phone call ten minutes before, telling
her that he was coming back home and that she'd better be ready. She stripped
and fingered her cunt until it was good and juicy, then got the tube of K-Y
jelly from the bedroom and lubricated her ass.
When Trent entered the house after parking his cruiser in the garage, he
found his ward kneeling on the living room floor, her head and shoulders
resting on the rug, her meaty black ass stuck invitingly in the air. He kicked
off his boots and stripped quickly and before a minute had passed since his
arrival he was driving his cock into her tight ass.
His strokes were hard and fast from the beginning, unlike his usual
practice when he took her this way, of starting slowly to allow her time to get
used to his cock. The girl sensed his mood and remained silent, knowing that
he was merely using her body and didn't want the usual banter. She groaned
audibly through the pain of his hard brutal strokes, hoping it would fade and
the pleasure would come.
In Trent's mind he wasn't fucking Celeste but was instead sodomizing the
woman who he knew was tracking him. The face in his mind's eye was blurry,
indistinct, except the mouth of his Special Agent Clarice Starling was twisted
in agony, screaming, crying, begging him to stop. He fucked harder in response
to her cries and slapped the agent's ass, again and again, as he raped her ass.
Celeste's cries were anything but imaginary but they didn't penetrate the
fog in his brain. He had never before struck the girl, and was now slapping her
hard, driving his cock into her bowels as never before. Desperate and scared,
Celeste reached back and fingered her sex, hoping that she could lesson the
pain of this brutal treatment. As she rubbed the erect nub frantically, the
sensations from her clit slowly began to compete with the painful signals
coming from her ravaged canal and battered cheeks.
When he came a few minutes later, blasting his cum deep in her ass, she
came as well, her release triggered as much from the relief she felt that this
would soon end as from the action of her fingers on her clit.
"God... Damn... Fucking... Bitch... Whore," she heard him mutter between
clenched teeth as his cock emptied into her bowels.
- o -
Five minutes later, Trent was sitting still nude on the sofa, his mind
now very clear and focused as he reviewed his options.
Celeste had left the room shortly after he pulled his spent cock from her
ass, walking unsteadily to the bathroom in the back of the house. As she
cleaned herself with a washcloth, she was relieved to find no sign of blood
from her still-dilated hole, only a mixture of his cum and the K-Y jelly she
had greased herself with before his arrival. After finishing with herself, she
got a second washcloth and ran it under the hot water and squeezed it out
before returning to Trent.
"I have three options," thought Trent to himself as the girl knelt
between his knees and cleaned his cock. "First, I could wait it out, and hope
the Feds don't find the connection to the Price brothers. Collect my cash on
Wednesday morning and head to N'Orleans and go from there." A man who disliked
inaction and relying on luck, he quickly rejected this option.
He thought through his second option -- get what cash he could from the
bank and leave immediately. His brother had said that they could give him
$40,000 of his funds in cash today. That would be the smart thing to do, but
these funds were the result of over twenty years of legitimate saving, of
denying himself expensive vacations and fancy cars, and it pained him to leave
over $110,000 of his money behind.
The third option was risky but appealed to him the longer he thought
about it. If Ward and Sam Price were to disappear, that would give him the
extra time to get his money and to tie up loose ends. He thought about and
rejected several ideas before settling on the best solution to his problem.
His mind sorted through each detail, each step of what he was going to do.
Celeste had finished cleaning his cock, and looked up into the Trent's
face, concerned. She knew from his distant expression and the set of his face
that he was thinking about something other than her, something very important.
She recalled his conversation of the other day, when he had told her of the
money and instructed her to go to this woman, Rosie. She knew from his comments
that the woman was someone he trusted, but she didn't want to leave, not even
after he'd fucked her so brutally. She got up curled her body to fit on the
sofa, her head resting on Trents lap.
Trent's finger played idly with the girl's kinky black hair as the
thought through the last details of his plan. Then he went over it again, from
the beginning, looking for problems, finding a few, then altering the plan to
address them. In the end he had what he believed was a workable plan, one that
would get rid of the Price brothers in a way that would appear like they had
fled. It was important over these next two or three days that the Feds spend
there energies looking for the known fugitives and not for any accomplices they
might have had.
"I'm going to miss you, Celeste," he said after a while.
"Do I have to go, masser?" he heard her ask.
"I'm afraid so. I have to... leave and I can't take you with me."
They talked for another five minutes. He firmly but gently overrode the
young girl's objections, and patiently reviewed again how she should take the
$10,000 and go to Rosie's and start a new life.
"But I like being your nigger girl," she said, but now her tone was
resigned.
He felt his cock begin to revive, and so did she. She shifted her body
and brought her mouth to his cock, sucking the growing shaft deep into her
mouth, practicing her new skill at taking him into her throat.
"This will be our last time, nigger girl," he said gently, running his
hand over her body while she bobbed her head up and down, each time taking him
all the way into her throat, her thick lips pressing against the base.
"How would you like it to be?" he asked.
She pulled her mouth off his cock and straddled him, angling her sex over
her slick rod, lowering herself into his lap. She rode her white master through
her orgasm and then allowed herself a minute to recover. She then pulled
herself off his long rod and turned around, holding her black cheeks apart as
she lowered herself again. Trent positioned his cock at her anus and moaned in
pleasure as the girl slowly impaled herself on his shaft. His hands gripped
her breasts, helping her move up and down as she fucked her ass on his shaft.
She came a few minutes later when she felt, for the last time, Sheriff Paul
Trent's cock erupted in her body.