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   Date: Sat, 10 May 1997 14:36:37 +0200

   From: Michael Suelmann <suelmann@forwiss.uni-passau.de>

   Subject: 248

   To: Ole.Joe@poboxes.com

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   MRWADE.248 By Master Wade

   Letters to Monica

   Nine

   Dearest Monica,

   I have just returned home from taking our Shonetta to the

   airport, and I wanted to sit down and tell you about our weekend

   while it is still fresh in my mind.  I do wish that you could have

   accompanied her, but in some ways perhaps it is best that you did

   not, this time.  I do miss my pretty slave girl and will be very

   glad when we can be together again.

   Our Negro girl was very nicely prepared for what was to happen

   to her by the time she got here, and a tip of my hat to you is in

   order.  She is an avid reader and had read the first two Beauty

   books and about half of Story of O.  It appears that our Shonetta

   has known very little of the discrimination so common to Blacks in

   our society and comes from a lifestyle of wanting for little in

   material things or opportunities.  She is about as directly

   connected to Black slavery as you and I, so the concept of it is no

   problem for her.  In fact, she confessed to a bit of a fascination

   with it, and to having wondered if there were not some highly

   erotic facets of it for Black females who, as you know, were often

   purchased on the basis of their bodies and used as concubines by

   the White planters.

   We discussed all of this at some length while I casually

   showed her some of my leatherwork.  She asked for a collar rather

   early on, so it was my pleasure to have her nude and collared in

   the living room while we talked.  There is something especially

   animalistic about a collared and nude Negro girl, especially one

   with Shonetta's physical attributes.  I could almost see her

   running nude through the woods of South Carolina with a pack of

   hunting dogs and white men in hot pursuit.  Is there any doubt that

   such men would have whipped and fucked a girl such as our Shonetta?

   Shonetta said that she would not have run from her Masters,

   but would have instead been a happy slave who would have been the

   good fuck piece for them.  But then she smiled and admitted to some

   arousal at the thought of being caught in the deep woods and used

   by her captors in a circle of barking dogs and cursing men.

   "My hair would have been matted with leaves as I laid there

   naked and panting, my back and ass scratched from the forest

   flotsam," she said.

   "Yes," I replied, "and the men would have taken you over and

   over, laughing and cursing and egging each other on.  You would

   have lost count at how many men had fucked you or how many times

   they had shot their cum into you.  And you would have known that

   the possibility of becoming pregnant from one of these men was

   great; that you would perhaps bear a mixed-race child of

   undeterminate origin, a product of gang rape fucking in the woods."

   "Yes," she said, her nipples stiffening nicely and her legs

   opening more widely, "but my fright and despair would do nothing to

   overcome the response of my body to the fuckings, and I would hunch

   back at the men and wrap my legs around their waists while the

   others watched, and they would know the pleasure that I took in

   their pounding cocks and squirting semen."

   "And they would talk about you among themselves for days and

   weeks thereafter," I said, clasping one of her nipples tightly,

   "speaking of your wild animal passion and your great physical

   beauty, and it would make your market value rise.  Some of the men

   would no doubt try to buy you from your owner so that they could

   fuck you regularly, and spirited bidding would take place among

   them in the tavern.  But your Master would not sell you, even

   though there might be those among the bidders whom you would have

   gladly served.  The handsome young planter's son with the red hair,

   perhaps, or the blonde Norwegian one."

   "Perhaps my Master would have let the more avid bidders pay to

   fuck me from time to time, making a whore out of me?", she asked.

   "Perhaps.  Or perhaps he would simply let them enter your

   cabin and take you as a gift, or favor at times."

   "I would have been fucked a lot, wouldn't I have, Master?",

   she asked, wincing slightly at the pressure from my thumb and

   forefinger on her nipple.

   "Fucked more than whipped, I should think," I responded,

   pleased at her growing passion.

   "Oh, but whipped too, I should think," she said, as if I were

   about to leave something important out.

   "Undoubtedly whipped," I said, smiling.

   I rose and took out the slut bag which holds the whips and

   crops and such and showed them to her at this point, letting her

   touch them and admire their construction.  She was very wet and

   I could see her juices glistening on her milk chocolate outer lips.

   Shonetta gave a slight shudder and showed special interest in

   the leather paddle when I took it from the bag.

   "The principal of my school had a paddle very similar to this

   one," she said, holding it in her hands.  I could tell that the

   memory excited her.  "Once, when I had been sent to his office for

   some reason that I can't seem to remember now, he took it from his

   desk drawer and held it in his hands while he talked to me.  I had

   never been spanked before, and certainly not paddled, but I had

   heard the others talk of his paddle and how fearsome it looked.  He

   was a white man and one who seemed to enjoy the power he had over

   students.  You could see it in his eyes as he talked to you.  And

   I also felt his eyes on my body.  I was well developed early on,

   and everyone seemed to take notice.

   "He did not paddle me, but through the years I have thought of

   that moment and have even found myself wishing that he had.  I've

   never admitted that to anyone before." Shonetta caressed the

   leather with her hands, and ran the stag handle along her breasts

   sensuously.

   "Your ass was made for such things," I said to her, softly.

   "Yes, I think so," she said, her voice trembling just a bit.

   "It was.  It was made for paddles and whips and butt plugs and

   fucking.  It's an African slave girl whore ass."

   Shonetta blushed slightly and handed me the paddle.  Then she

   crawled slowly across my lap, purposely dragging her big tits

   across my thighs in a slithering fashion, until she was draped

   there, her position perfect for paddling, spanking, or finger

   fucking.

   I caressed her rounded globes with my hand fondly, enjoying

   their ripe fullness and the remarkable depth of her cleft.  The

   color of her skin excited me, and her naked submission to me

   enflamed my arousal.  I could feel my cock growing hard against her

   belly.

   I began spanking her a bit with my hand, light teasing spanks

   at first, only occasionally landing a forceful slap which would be

   followed by a firm massaging caress which spread her asscheeks

   apart and allowed me to see her anus.  I could see goosebumps

   forming on her dark thighs.  I pushed a finger into her cunt from

   behind and then worked the same finger into her ass and worked it

   slowly.  I hadn't fucked her yet and my desire was growing quickly.

   "I'm a bad Black slave girl whore, Master," she said, as I

   fingered her asshole.

   "A Black naked ass girl slut," I said, scewering my finger

   more deeply into her ass.

   "You own my black ass, Master," she said, squirming a little.

   I took my finger out of her asshole and very quickly began

   with the paddle, using it hard on her naked skin from the very

   first.  The loud smacking sound of leather against naked Negro girl

   ass flesh alarmed her at first and made her jump and cry out, and

   I swung the paddle fiercely, filling the room with the staccato

   sound of it landing hotly on her bare skin.  Ten, fifteen, twenty,

   on to forty times in quick succession before stopping to rest my

   hand and arm.  Her breathing was ragged and the sound of it was the

   only sound in the room as I caressed her cheeks again with my hand,

   massaging them.

   The girl was dripping wet.  I could feel her juices on my legs

   now as it leaked from her pussy.  Holding her cheeks apart, I

   pushed the handle of the paddle between them, finding her labia

   with it and sliding it into her cunt from behind.  She grunted, but

   raised her sore ass higher to allow me a better angle of entry.  I

   fucked her with the handle, grinning to myself as I watched it

   screw in and out of her.  She was incredibly hot.

   Pulling the paddle out of her cunt, I began paddling her with

   it again, achieving a count of forty again, fucking her some more

   with the handle, paddling again to another count of forty, fucking

   her some more...this continued for some time until her rising and

   falling hips were accompanied by the sound of her sobbing.  It was

   at this point that I lay the paddle to the side, pulled my cock

   from my pants and mounted her, reaching under to rub her clitoris

   as I fucked her tight anus from behind her.  She came even more

   quickly than I, but continued hunching back at me and squeezing her

   tight little sphincter until I had spewed a large load of spunk

   into her bottom.

   As has been her practice from the start, Shonetta cleaned my

   softening dick with her pink tongue afterwards, and sat in the

   floor at my feet, resting her head in my lap.  Her body was

   glistening with sweat from the feverish activity of the previous

   moments, and I had a fleeting wish that white girls had been there

   to lick it from her.

   It was a rather simple matter to move from this moment to the

   dungeon for more serious usage of the girl, and you will be happy

   to know that it all went very well.  Indeed, even though I began

   slowly with her, wanting to make sure that she was comfortable with

   what was being done to her, she quickly implored me to adopt a more

   intense approach.  Such encouragement is never wasted on me, as you

   know very well, and by Sunday morning there was no pretense in our

   dungeon sessions.  She was not only beautiful when bound naked with

   her wrists chained to the rafters and her legs held apart by the

   spreader bar and ankle cuffs, but indeed found the position itself

   to be an incredible aphrodesiac.  It was as if she lost herself in

   some secret fantasy world, becoming an entirely different person

   with limits and desires which exceeded those of her life in the

   city.

   During the most intense sessions it became necessary to gag

   her.  At such times I left the blindfold off, wanting to be able to

   see the eyes.  When the fear became too great in them, and the

   muffled cries feverish behind the gag, I reduced my efforts and

   allowed her to rest slightly before beginning in earnest again.

   Most of Sunday was taken up with the whippings, although they

   were interupted by occasional fuckings of various sorts.  Our

   Shonetta proves to be all that I had wished for, and I have you to

   thank for that, dearest Monica.  On this visit it was simply not

   possible for me to get around to breast bondage or nipple torture

   in any degree, but I am confident now that it will make the Negro

   girl even more our slave slut.

   I am even more anxious now for our next encounter to take

   place, and eagerly await news of your progress in making the

   arrangements.  I told Shonetta that she would fuck the waiter and

   showed her the photographs of him, so she is prepared for that, and

   rather eager, I might add.  She certainly will put on a show that

   Patti will long remember, and I think her responsiveness will be

   encouraging to the blonde girl (remember the red whipping dress!).

   Well, I must now end this letter, as I have taken too much

   time in writing it.  I failed to allow the Negro girl to clean my

   implements before she left, so now there is cunt juice and ass

   tracings to be washed away.  How sad it is that your Master does

   not have his slave here with him to take care of such matters with

   her tongue.

   Thank you for the Negro whore, Monica, dearest.  Let me hear

   from you soon.

   Master Wade