~Subject: WhtCaptv 04/10  "White Captive"
~From: grobert@soho.ios.com (TheEditor)
~Date: Fri, 04 Oct 1996 06:23:12 -0800
~Newsgroups: alt.sex.stories


wouldn't be subjected to ravishment by the half-wit tonight.  It
was him she feared the most, for there was no way of telling what
he might do to her if he got the chance to be alone with her.
	Her joy was short-lived, however.  A few minutes later, the
ape-like Shorty won over half the money on the table with one
hand.  She filled her glass again from the bottle in the kitchen
and poured another round for the others.  She purposely filled
Shorty's and Coke's glasses with more bourbon than Duke's.  She
hoped it might dull their minds to the game and give Duke some
advantage, but it was quickly dashed when he raised the glass to
his lips and downed it with one quick swallow.  He pushed his
glass toward her without taking his eyes from his cards, and
ordered her to fill it again.  She did his bidding, detecting a
more and more helpless anger rising in his voice with each passing
moment of the game.
	Susan tilted her own glass down and took a long swallow.  She
had to steady herself against the back of Duke's chair to keep
from reeling backwards from the table.  Her nakedness was almost
forgotten now with the greater impact of the drinks she had taken,
and she found herself concentrating deeper and deeper on the small
pile of money still remaining in front of Duke.
	Her eyes were slightly out of focus now and she had
difficulty in keeping them riveted to one spot.  The table was
moving slightly in front of her, revolving slowly around and
around, and she had to grasp the back of the chair tighter just to
stay on her feet.  The alcohol helped, but deep in her mind
nothing but total unconsciousness could blot out the horrible
truth of her position here.  She was nothing but a pawn now in the
hands of a wild vicious gang of negroes who would stop at nothing
to vent their crazed hatred of whites against her because she was
helpless to defend herself.
	"Okay, Duke, I raised ya the limit," she suddenly heard
Shorty say through her alcoholic daze.
	"Ya gotta be kiddin', sittin' over there with a pair of
kings.  Man, I got that beat a mile.  I raise ya ag'in.  All I
got, mat is if you got the guts, man."
	"Yeh, I got the guts, man," Shorty answered with a slight
sneer this time.  His confidence had grown with each passing hand
played, and he could sense victory this time over his leader.  His
eyes wandered past his cards to Susan's warm naked body leaning
against Duke's chair and a small expectant smile played across his
lips.  His tongue circled them wetly for a moment, and then he
continued, "Come on and put 'em up, Duke, baby."
	Susan looked down at Duke and for the first time saw the
arrogant confidence fading from his face.  He hesitated for a
moment, and then threw his hand out on the table.
	"Lemme see ya beat that ya bastard, you was jist bluffin'.
Come on," Duke challenged.
	Susan saw the three queens fall to the table from Duke's hand
and then a strange expectant glint flickered through Shorty's
eyes.  A broad grin broke across his thick rubbery lips and his
teeth sparkled like the ivory keyboard of a piano in the dim light
of the kerosene lamp.  His eyes locked on Susan's trembling body
as he slowly lowered his hand to the table.
	"Read 'em an' weep, baby," he gloated at the vanquished Duke.
Three solid kings lay face up next to Duke's queens.
	Shorty sat quiet for a moment, as though still unable to
believe his luck, and then all of a sudden jumped to his feet.
	"Whooooeeeee," he shouted and clapped his hands at the same
time.  "Some lil honky's gonna get fucked tonight like she ain't
nevah been fucked.  An' you cats git to watch it all.  You can
too, man," he taunted down at the dejected Duke.
	"Man, it don't bother me none," he lied.  "She's jist another
honky chick that we gonna git plenty of when we take over.  Ya
jist better take it light with 'er though, I'm warnin' ya."
	"Man, that weren't part o' the deal.  I gits all I wants and
how I wants it, right, Coke?" he directed at the other jubilant
negro.
	"That's right, baby.  You done won it fair and square, and he
ain't got no say.  Ya kin even give me some, man, the way I
understood the deal."
	Duke started to rise from the chair, a menacing look crossed
his face, but changed his mind and slumped back down into the
chair again.  He knew when he had pushed them too far, and if he
backed out now, he knew they wouldn't take it.  He'd have a revolt
on his hands that even he couldn't control.
	"Hey theah, honey, how 'bout gittin' me an' the boys a little
whiskey, huh," Shorty enunciated his words to stress the harsh,
northern negro accent.  "You mine for tonight, baby, and don't ya
forget it."
	Susan hesitated for a moment, still holding tight to the back
of Duke's chair where she had frozen when the three kings had been
thrown on the table, but moved to follow the ape-ish negro's
command when Duke nudged her away with his elbow.  He did not look
up at her but kept his eyes glued tightly to the center of the
tab]e.  She went quickly to the kitchen, aware of the three sets
of eyes following the slight unintentional sway of her naked
buttocks as she walked across the floor.  Quivering chills of fear
scurried over the paleness of her skin when she heard Shorty's
last words just as she passed through the door.
	"Crazy, man, crazy.  Look at that lil' white ass shake and
jiggle.  I'm gonna have me a ball punchin' into that."
	She poured herself a glass almost full with the thick brown
whiskey and drank it down in huge gulps without stopping, until
the glass was empty.  Her mind ran to all sorts of ways she might
escape the cruel ravishment she knew she was going to be subjected
to by the squatty negro, but none were plausible.  Her situation
was hopeless.  As her mind raced in desperation, she thought of
death, but there was no way to kill herself, even if she could
have built up the courage to do so.  She gagged on the strong
liquid, and thought for a moment she was going to get sick, but
even that would not come.  Nothing could help her.  No one even
realized that she was gone from her house, and from the last
bitter memory of the scene in her Mother's bedroom, she probably
wouldn't even be missed until sometime late tomorrow.  Even then,
they wouldn't have the vaguest idea where to begin looking.
	She filled the glass again and drank as much of it in one
swallow as she could get down.  She gagged, but forced the rest of
it down against the rebellion of her stomach.  The dulling effect
slowly began to take over her body, and she could feel her sense
of touch deadening in the tips of her fingers as she clung to the
glass.  Her eyes rolled slightly in her head and she slammed the
glass down on the counter, almost breaking it.  As her head
reeled, she had to place both hands on the sink to keep from
falling.  She wished she could get sick.  She wished anything
would happen that might make her less desirable to them, anything
that might save her from this awful fate.  It had been bad enough
in the car with Duke, but now the shock and surprise that had
prevented her from really feeling or understanding the full impact
of what she was going through had faded.  She was conscious now
and fully aware of the things they were going to do to her and the
indignities they would force her to accept from them.
	As she reached for the glass to pour another drink, she was
stopped short.
	"What yo' doin' here, chicken," Shorty's rough coarse voice
boomed across the narrow distance from the door.  "Don't yo' go
gettin' outta yo' mind now.  I don't won't no dead piece o' white
meat under me when I'm gettin' my kicks.  D'ya heah me?"
	Susan nodded her head dumbly, the reeling in her body
intensifying with each second that passed.  She had to have
another drink though; it was beginning to work.  The alcohol was
beginning to drive the consciousness from her, helping to blot out
the cruel reality that she could not face.  She wanted to be dead
and unfeeling, and this was the closest thing she could come to it
now.
	"Now, you git that whiskey like I done told ya and git yo
lil' white ass out here.  Right now," Shorty said, his eyes
working over the full length of - her white virginal body.
	She waited for a moment until she was sure he wouldn't
reappear in the doorway and filled her glass again.  She downed it
completely, the rough brown liquid burning less now that her
senses had been dampened.  She had already taken almost a quarter
of the bottle and knew they would be certain to notice if she had
any more before they became a little more intoxicated themselves.
There was no telling what they might do to her if they became
really angry.
	Susan took the remains of the bottle she had been drinking
from, and opened another one from the ample supply they had
brought along with them.  She wondered how long they intended to
stay at the cabin with so many bottles around.  There were enough
to supply an army, and she hoped against hope they hadn't planned
a permanent hideout here.  She would never get away in a million
years unless they made a move of some kind.
	"Where's that whiskey."  A harsh cry from the living room
turned her toward the door.
	Susan used all her will power to force herself to walk back
into the living room.  She trembled, knowing she had no choice.
If she didn't do as they commanded, they would only force her, and
that would be a thousand times worse.  No, it wouldn't help
anything for her to show resistance.  In fact they probably would
enjoy it like school boys deriving sadistic pleasure in tearing
the wings from the beauty of a summer butterfly, merely because it
was beautiful.
	No, fighting would only make matters worse and she couldn't
bear for this to go on for too long.  She would just have to bear
up under it until the chance for escape came.  She knew that she
had to do it.  There was nothing else in all the world to help her
but her own will power and courage.  She was alone.
	"Me first, Blondie," Shorty said as she stepped through the
door with the bottles in her hand.  "Jist remember whose yo' boss
now."
	He held his glass out as she drew nearer, a cocky smile
stretched across his lips as he relaxed back in the big easy
chair.  She placed the full bottle on the table and began to fill
his glass from the other.  All the whiskey she had consumed was
taking its toll and it took all her concentration to avoid
spilling Shorty's drink on the table.  She knew this would be a
costly mistake and would probably bring further pain and suffering
to her later on if she made them angry now.  She knew she had to
be very careful.
	"Man, yo' really got a nice looking lil' pussy there, baby.
Give us a lil' feel now to get us warmed up some," Shorty leered.
	Susan automatically jumped back as his thick stubby hand
reached out and began stroking the soft resilient pubic hair
growing at the base of her white softly rounded belly.
	"Freeze, bitch," he commanded coldly.  The cruel unyielding
tone of his voice immobilized her and she stood cringing next to
where he was slumped down in the chair.  Her face crimsoned at the
indignity of having to stand there unable to move as his harsh
callused fingers coursed around the secret protective parts of her
exposed genitals.  She could hear through tightly clenched eyes
the snickers of the others in the room as they watched her black
tormentor taking indecent liberties with her white young body.
She moaned softly in shame and humiliation as she suddenly felt
the tip of a finger part the sparse blonde pubic hair and push
itself into the soft fleshy folds surrounding her vagina.  It was
still moist from the ravishment she had undergone in the car some
hours ago and she heard a slight gasp come from his lips as he
felt her openness.
	"Yeh man, it's gonna slide up that tight lil' hole nice and
easy like," he murmured as he worked his finger up and down the
length of the narrow hair-lined slit.  "Ole Shorty's gonna bake
his bread nice and long in this lil' oven.  He's jist gonna lay
theah and soak and rise, and soak and rise, 'til the sun come up
in the morning."
	Susan felt the blood rising in her head until she thought her
brain would burst from the pressure.  Her face was beet red from
the indignities being heaped upon her.  Now as the others looked
on, their demeanors slowly changed from one of amused fun to a
slow smoldering desire.
	Duke sat still slumped over the table, his eyes gazing darkly
around the room as he watched the jubilant Shorty slowly working
himself into a sexual frenzy that he knew was going to erupt in a
volcano of rape within a matter of minutes He wanted with all his
soul to rise at that moment and smash his fist into Shorty's face
until there was nothing left but a bloody mass of unrecognizable
flesh for what he was doing to the girl.  Not because of any
particular feeling for the girl, but because he had possessed
something the others had not, and now they would have it too.  At
least, Shorty and Coke would.  He had warned them about that
bastard, Stitch, and they had better heed the warning or he would
forget they were his brothers in this war against the honkies.
	"Don't put no marks on the girl," he suddenly commanded,
rising from the table.  "And remember, that crazy bastard don't
touch 'er."
	Shorty was suddenly jerked from his eager probing between the
trembling Susan's legs by the harsh gruffness of Duke's voice, and
withdrew his hand by instinct.  He was disciplined to following
the leader's commands without question, and this was no exception
even though he had won the girl for the evening.  He knew he could
get away with almost anything as long as he stuck to what he could
argue logically was his, but if he didn't, there would be danger
he was not prepared to accept.
	"Awright, he cain't have none," Shorty agreed after a
moment's thought.  He knew he had a right to argue over whether he
should let Stitch have some or not, but wanted to take no risk now
of losing the voluptuous prize he had won by pushing Duke's well-
known temper too far.
	"I'm gonna go to bed now," Duke announced as he kept his cold
stare on Shorty, then made his way to the bedroom door and paused.
"And, I'm gonna hold ya for whatever happens," he growled as he
shut the door behind him.
	Shorty stayed silent as he watched his leader disappearing
through the door, then let his eyes flicker back to the downcast
Susan still standing by his chair.  He rose slowly, and with a
sudden move that caught her completely by surprise, grabbed her
wrist and twisted her arm painfully behind her back so that she
was forced to turn and fall back against him.  Coke and Stitch
jumped up from where they were sitting and crowded around her so
they could see the exposed view of her white curvaceous front.
Stitch's eyes glowed like a cat's in the dark, as he feasted them
hungrily on the firm round breasts pointing out at him, gleaming
in the firelight.
	"Y-Y-Y-ou gonna let m-m-m-me fuck 'er t-too, ain't 'cha,
Shorty," he stuttered excitedly from the impact the sight of
Susan's body was having on him.  "H-H-He won't d-d-do nothin' if
ya let me."
	"You jist gimme a hand when I need it, man, and I'll see,"
Shorty leered through his toothy mouth.  It was obvious he was
enjoying his sudden thrust into prominence by winning the poker
hand, and he was going to glean every satisfaction he possibly
could from the situation, including lording it over his fellow
gang members.
	"Yo gonna do what I say without no trouble, white girl," he
suddenly directed at Susan, who was struggling in front of him
against the pain in her arm.
	She clenched her teeth tightly together and refused to speak.
	"Yo' better learn to listen to me, baby," he hissed, and
continued to twist harder.
	Susan grunted from the increased pain, but still refused to
speak.  Her face was locked in a determined expression of defiance
that seemed to increase with each moment the final assault on her
helpless body drew near.
	The weakness and lethargy she let herself sink into earlier
had faded, and she now found herself resisting them automatically
with all her moral being.  Even the cruel inhuman pain she was
being subjected to could not overcome the intense revulsion and
hate she felt for the three dark and almost animal-like faces
surrounding her.  She had to resist even though she knew her fate
was inevitable.  Her final punishment and humiliation would be in
their hands.
	"Awright, honky bitch, ya asking for it," Shorty finally
growled in frustration and anger at the unexpected courage of the
helpless girl.  "You guys gimme a hand."
	He jerked forward and pushed her toward the filthy rickety
bed against the far wall.  Her arm was almost twisted to the
breaking point, and it was almost with relief that she felt
herself being pushed face down onto the mattress, causing him to
release her wrist from the cruel hold he had on it.  But ... it
was only a momentary relief.  As she struggled to hide her
nakedness with her hands and arms, other hands reached out from
the side of the bed and pressed her tightly down into the dirty
creaking mattress.
	"Hold 'er down," she heard a voice command through the haze,
as without warning, a hard fist smashed into the side of her head.
She groaned and her arms and legs went limp, her body splayed wide
and helpless in a spread-eagle position across the bed.  She
trembled loose and quivering for a moment, and then tightened the
muscles of her body again as she heard Shorty's next foreboding
words.
	"Gimme the belt outta yo' pants, Stitch.  I'm gonna teach 'er
a lesson she ain't ever gonna forget."
	She cringed down into the lumpy mattress like a child
cowering before the beating of an angry and unrelenting parent.
And like a small child, there was nothing she could do but lay
before her tormentor and take whatever punishment he desired to
inflict upon her helpless body.
	Shorty took the belt, and holding it by the buckle, twirled
it experimentally in the air.  He laughed cruelly as he watched
her cringe deeper into the bed when she heard it singing
threateningly in a small evil circle over her naked back.  A
vicious grin played on his face, showing his white ivory teeth
through the large thick lips that surrounded his mouth.  The
others haunched close over the bed, their mouths hanging open in
undisguised passion at the young helpless form trembling in stark
terror before them.  Shorty, taking full advantage of his new-
found position, commanded them like puppets.
	"Duke said not to mark 'er," he grinned.  "Put that sheet
over 'er and hold her down.  One on each end."
	Stitch quickly threw the ragged filthy sheet across the
length of her body, and then reached through the iron uprights at
the foot of the bed, grasping her twitching ankles in a steel-like
grip.  Coke grabbed her arms through the uprights at the head of
the bed and pulled hard, stretching her between them like a
helpless victim on an ancient torture rack.  Her slender
voluptuous body gleamed goddess-like through the thin veneer of
the tattered covering they had thrown over her.
	"Now, honky bitch, ya gonna beg ole Shorty for a lil' niggah
cock.  Ain't that what yo' honkies call us?" he spat at her
venomously.
	For the first time, Susan managed to cough out a few
painfully muted words through the hurt and hopelessness of her
situation.  She couldn't stand the thought of being punished and
used for a prejudism she didn't bear against anyone.
	"No, no.  I've tried to help you, I've tried to help you,"
she half mumbled, half shouted up at him, tears of helpless
indignation streaming from her reddened eyes.
	"How, baby, how?" he tormented back down at her.
	"I've marched and everything," Susan moaned, realizing even
as she spoke that it was completely useless.  All this was an
excuse they were using to commit all the vile criminal acts they
could get away with in the name of revolution just as the Russians
and Cubans had done when they had raped and slaughtered thousands
of innocent people in the name of social justice.
	"But you ain't had no niggar cock, baby, and that's real
integration," he smiled evilly and lashed the belt down hard
against her buttocks under the thin sheet.  Susan screamed and
jerked her body, but she couldn't overcome the strength of the
other two negroes holding her arms and legs.  The belt raised and
descended again and again in the chuckling Shorty's hand, tracing
a painful path the full length of her writhing and twisting form.
	"Agggggghhhhhh!" her shrill screams reverberated through the
room, and the belt continued to lash down against her sensitive
skin for a seeming eternity of pain and hurt that she thought
would never end.  Her dazed and tortured mind was beyond all
comprehension of why they were doing this to her.  She had tried
to help them, she had done all that was possible in a town this
small where the problem didn't really exist.  She had taken part
in the sit-ins against the unfairness of housing laws in the
larger cities and supported all the drives for money for the poor
in the southern states that were supposed to be starving to death.
She had done everything, everything!  And suddenly she began to
wonder why, as her body jerked again and again beneath the cruel
hard blows Shorty was raining down on her squirming back and
buttocks.
	"Tell me what you want ole Shorty to do to you, baby," he
laughed aloud, after the punishment had gone on for a seeming
lifetime.  "Beg ole Shorty to give you a lil' black cock."
	Susan moaned and clenched her teeth tighter together until it
seemed as though she would die from the shame and pain of the
horrible torture she was undergoing at the hands of the sadistic
negro.  But, she did not speak.  She could not bring herself to
this final depth of degradation that he was demanding of her.  She
had given them everything else and just could not bring herself to
this one last act of total subjugation.
	"Ooooogggghhh!" she moaned as he increased the intensity of
the cruel lashing.
	"I'm waiting baby," he tormented again through smiling teeth.
"Beg ole Shorty to fuck ya."
	"Ohhh, God, Please don't, stop it, stop it, you're killing
me.  Oh God, you're killing me," the poor girl whimpered and
screamed beneath the renewed viciousness of his attack.
	"Beg me, baby," he chided gleefully as he sensed her
weakening before the cruel assault.
	"No, I can't, I can't.  Oh God, no, don't make me," she
screamed on and on until suddenly she could stand it no more.  She
gave one final long, low whimper and her body went limp on the
bed.  Shorty held the belt still for a moment listening to the
soft pleading mumblings that began rolling from her half-opened
mouth pressed tightly into the softness of the mattress.
	"Fuck me ... fuck me ... anything ...  Oh God, can't stand it
... don't care ... just stop ... please, please."
	The negro's wide sadistic grin broadened as he heard the
pathetically whimpering Susan's final admission of surrender to
him.  Breaking the will of this voluptuous young white girl to his
own depraved desires gave him a sense of power he had never
possessed before.  It was something he would not have dared dream
of three years ago when he had first joined the gang and to plot
against the honkies with the early planners.  It was something
that was just beyond his wildest dreams ... and now ... like the
revolution ... it was happening.
	He stepped back and threw Stitch's belt back to him.  There
was no longer any reason to hold her.  She was completely limp,
and all the fight had gone from her tortured and aching body.  She
was his for the taking, and he knew it.  So did the others as they
gazed down on the prostrate body of the young defeated girl.
Shorty reached over and jerked the sheet off her back.
	"See man," he smiled proudly at Coke, "Nuthin' but red marks,
and they'll go 'way soon."
	"Yeah man," Coke answered, a new found admiration for Shorty
showed in his voice.  "You gonna fuck 'er now?"
	"Look at that man," Shorty pointed down to the rising bulge
in his pants.  "I'm gonna fill that lit' belly o' hers with black
power 'till it pours out her ears."
	"J-J-Jesus, l-l-look at 'er," Stitch stuttered in excitement,
saliva rolling unnoticed from the edges of his mouth.  "K-K-Kin I
t-t-touch 'er, S-Shorty?"
	"Yeah, go ahead while I get my pants off," he answered with a
benevolent tone to his voice.  He knew his generosity would give
him even more prestige in the other's eyes and still wouldn't
violate his promise to Duke.  He stepped back and began unzipping
his pants, while he watched Stitch reach over the side of the bed
and almost reverently cup Susan's soft resilient flesh in his
hands.  His dilated eyes burned bright in the dim light of the
lamp as his rough coarse hands moved over the rounded whiteness of
her buttocks, twisting and kneading the flaccid globes of soft
yielding flesh with an unsatiated lust.
	She lay unresisting before him, slim and voluptuously curved
at the buttocks and shoulders which flowered out teasingly from
her narrow young waist.  She moaned low in a half daze,
intensifying the erotic picture her innocent, almost unused body
presented to the leering dark eyes surrounding her.
	"That's enuff," Shorty suddenly warned, as he saw Stitch's
fingers begin pulling open the cheeks of her buttocks and
inserting themselves down inside.  "I'm gonna stuff 'er now."
	Susan lay trembling with her face pressed tightly into the
mattress.  Part of the tattered unclean sheet was clamped hard
between her teeth to still the throbbing pain that raked her body.
She lay cowed, unable and not caring to move All thoughts of
resistance had been crushed from her by the lashing belt that had
played over her helpless body a moment ago.  She had an urge to
turn her head back, and look at them to show her defiance, but
there was no strength left in her now.  There was no further sense
in prolonging the inevitable rape they were going to subject her
to again.  She had fought with honor, and they knew now that
whatever they took would only be the spoils of a greater physical
strength, not the conquering of her soul.
	Let them take it, damn it, ran through her tortured and dazed
mind.  Let them rut into her beaten body if that's what they
called victory!  It was the only kind they would ever have!
	Suddenly, she felt Shorty's hands coursing over her back, and
she quivered again.  She did not resist for fear of further pain.
She knew that now her resistance could only be mental and would be
a victory only within herself.
	"Turn around, Honky," Shorty commanded above her.  "Take a
look at what a lit' black cock looks like."
	She didn't move or answer until she suddenly felt his hand
tangling in her hair.  He jerked her head up and around a few
inches off the bed.  Her eyes opened automatically and her face
contorted in horror at the long thick black instrument that he
held over her head.  It was monstrous and webbed all along the
underside with heavy throbbing veins, giving grim advance warning
of the lustful state he had worked himself into during her
beating.  Her eyes trailed a slow path up the length of his torso
to his face, a piteous and useless plea nestled in them, pleading
for mercy.  There was none.  Nothing but a cold and unyielding
face staring down at her.
	"Like it, Honky?" he tormented.
	She tried to answer, but her voice was frozen somewhere deep
in her chest.
	"Like it, I say," he hissed again and twisted her hair
viciously in his hand.
	"Y-Yes, I like it," she finally managed to stammer through
the pain and degradation.
	"Well now, I'm gonna put it way up in that white lil' belly
o' yours 'till ya can taste it," he grinned sadistically.
	Coke and Stitch laughed nervously from excitement, thinking
of what was about to happen.  It had been different back there in
the car when Duke had been laying it to her.  They couldn't see it
all in the semi-darkness of the car.  But, now she was stretched
out before them completely naked in all
	l	her youth and innocence ... and they were going to watch
her get fucked like they had never seen anyone get fucked before.
Both their eyes glowed like hot coals in the shadows from the
anticipation that had been building like a storm since they had
first abducted her off the streets hours back.
	"Hold 'er until I git it in," Shorty ordered nervously.  His
voice quivered from the salacious thought of what he was about to
do to this virginal young white girl, and his long thick cock
ached like it had never ached in all his life.  He dropped to the
bed and rolled across the full length of her back, his face
pressed into the dean soft odor of her blonde hair that glimmered
in the firelight.
	Susan winced from the attack and began to struggle weakly,
but unseen hands forced her back deeper into the mattress.  Her
arms were pulled to the sides of the bed and held in a vice-like
grip that could not be broken.  Shorty's knees behind her were
slowly and relentlessly forcing her knees apart with a rough
pressure that scraped the tender backsides of her thighs and
calves.
	She strained with all her power to keep them closed, but it
was hopeless.  She gave a sudden "oooomph," as the breath surged
from her lungs, and her resistance broke.  He dropped between her
legs as they spread wide across the mattress, her toes hanging out
over either side of the bed.  A soft helpless moan escaped from
her tightly closed lips as she felt the hardness of his penis make
warm wet contact with the soft inner flesh of her thighs.  He
moved forward, insinuating the full length of it along the narrow
wide-stretched crevice of her buttocks.  Her shoulders were held
down tight against the bed so that her struggles were limited to
her lower torso.  Her buttocks squirmed and twisted beneath him,
inciting his lust to the utmost.
	"Git up on yo' knees,' his voice breathed into		l her
hair.
	She tried to stiffen her body more and pressed tighter into
the mattress.  Bitter tears of anger and fear ran from her cheeks,
wetting the sheet under her face as she felt his smooth hot skin
pressing dowel onto her, covering the full length of her prostrate
body.  She tried not to move now after the command, knowing
whatever she did would only worsen her position.
	A hand pushed down on the back of her head, pressing her face
tight into the mattress.  She struggled for a moment to breath but
could not.  She tried to cry out, but her mouth would not open.  A
faint dizziness swept over her from the lack of oxygen and she let
her body go limp.  The hand was released, and she gulped
desperately at the air greedily filling her tortured lungs with
welcome relief.  Hands on her now relaxed hips pulled them
powerfully up off the bed, another hand staying hard behind her
neck to keep her breasts and face pressed harshly down into the
mattress.  By the time she fully recovered her breath, her
buttocks were waving high off the bed behind, and she made a
momentary and fruitless lurch forward to flatten them again.  The
hand pushed her face tight back into the mattress cutting of her
breath as before.
	She relaxed and ceased her struggles.  She knew she would
eventually give in the end, anyway.  There was nothing left now
but horrible humiliating submission to their every obscene desire.
Her body was a helpless toy to be used as they wanted in their
animalistic quest for satisfaction ... satisfaction that would
only cease when they had exploded their hot liquid desire deep
inside her soft and resilient body that was now beyond all
resistance and care.
	Kneeling behind her, Shorty gazed down at the full white
moons of her buttocks stretched up in sacrificial offering to him,
with eyes bulging wide in hot uncontrolled desire.  God, he had
never seen anything like it.  His balls tingled and ached, and he
longed to thrust forward into the narrow teasing slit swinging
into the air before him right now without further hesitation.  But
he couldn't.  He had waited too many hours to get her like this,
helpless and kneeling like a slave in front of him ... he had to
get the most from it.
	The Negro held himself back, purposely torturing himself for
the moment in anticipation of when he would thrust forward and
slide his throbbing black cock deep between the full white moons
of her proud little white ass swaying gently and defeated before
him.  She was an arrogant little bitch, and he wanted to break her
more than anything else in the word.  He wanted to feel her
squirming beneath him, needing him as much as he needed her.  That