Prowling

by mattwatt

Caution: This Erotica Sex Story contains strong sexual content, including Ma/Fa, DomSub, MaleDom, Spanking, Rough, Humiliation, Gang Bang, Interracial, Black Female, White Male, .

Desc: Erotica Sex Story: Vanessa, an afro american professional woman who secretly wishes to be a slave to white men, goes out prowling and runs into a group of rednecks who fulfill her fantasies, at times painfully.

Then night had been long, or at least it seemed so, and Vanessa hadn't slept very well. Plans, or what seemed like plans, for that evening kept her awake enough that she saw the clock at 2 AM, 3:30 AM, 4Am and finally she was up at 6 AM to get ready for work.

It was a Friday and would be a busy one, with end of the month work to be done. She knew that she might have to ride heard on the crowd today, since they'd likely be in a Friday mood. These thoughts were occupying her mind as she went about some 'getting ready' tasks automatically.

Then she looked at what she was doing, let out a stifled cry and set the small bag she was packing down, as though it were burning her fingers. She looked, paying attention now and saw in the bag, a pair of dark, smokey thigh high stockings, a black garter belt, a short mini level pleated skirt, a fresh pair of pink bikini panties, with lace at the waist and a matching bra, and a silk blouse.

"Oh, no!' she muttered, sitting and holding her head in her hand.

She wasn't all that shocked; she'd done this before, enough times, many times, who knew? But it disturbed her every time she caught her self doing it.

The bag, innocent as it might seem, was her indication that she intended to go, as she called it, 'prowling' after work. Her pattern with 'prowling' was to work late, take a shower at the office and then dress in her prowling clothes and go out for a drink.

This was innocent of itself, but Vanessa's intention was anything but innocent in her prowling adventures. She'd go out, seek out a bar, maybe one that she'd never think of going to otherwise, and kind of 'show the goods'. Then she'd let happen whatever was going to happen.

It came in waves, this urge to 'prowl'. There seemed to be times, in between her sessions of 'prowling' that were perfectly normal. It meant work and doing a very good job at work. Managing the needs of the large office and being on top of all that was happening. This was the daily thing for Vanessa but those other times came, not too often, she was glad of that, but they came nevertheless. They came, when she was in a certain mood, and wanted to go out and get around and let men look her over and ... and--this was the hard part that she almost never wanted to admit to herself, it was the part that unsettled her so much, it was the part that already ruined her morning, when she discovered that she was packing a 'prowling' bag--and just do what they wanted with her.

It wasn't romantic at all. It was to satisfy this deep lust that rose up within Vanessa now and again. She hated the need as much as she loved it. She knew that she'd give in to it, she always did, when the mood was on her.

So, she'd do that after work, after long hours at work. She shower and dress in a sexy fashion and go out to be used by whatever white men that could twig to what she was about, this formidable looking but utterly submissive, lovely, stacked black woman.

Her day went fine. Her nervousness made her more exacting that usual, and people tiptoed around her for most of the day, never suspecting what the actual reason was for 'the boss lady' to be in such a huff all day long.

She was finally alone and took a little time to get herself ready, but not too much. The one thing that Vanessa didn't want at all was time to think about what she was about to do.

Showered, and dressed, and, she said to herself, 'lookin' fine'!, she was ready to go. She had a destination in mind. It was a place called 'David's Den', and was a distance away but that was fine. She'd run across references to it, a gentle yet mostly red neck kind of bar. What she was able to learn, she did research these things, was that it was good for prowling, but maybe not usually her type of prowling. She was headed there, in any event.

But she sat in the car, the old revulsion coming back, wondering what the hell she was doing there, with a small voice in the back of her head demanding that she leave and go home.

She answered the doubts and the quibbling by getting out of the car, and moving toward the entrance of 'Dave's'.

She was nervous, as she went in. It proved to be a normal place, but her entrance did cause a stir. She was one of the few lone women there and the only afro-American. She heard voices, whispering and knew that she might be in the right place. She'd made her decision about this. Her daily persona was set aside and Vanessa was here to simply be used. It's why she prowled in the first place.

She sat at the bar and a large man wearing a white tee shirt with a confederate flag on it, came up to her and smiled. The smile wasn't all that friendly. He apparently hadn't decided about her. But she was 'saved' any confrontation with the bartender by an older man, who slid onto the bar stool next to hers.

With a hand he waved the bartender away and spoke to Vanessa softly:

"Well, lovely lady," he said in a pleasant voice, "What are you doing here? Alone? And all dressed up."

Vanessa had a feeling of having gone back in time. She was in school and here she was, for whatever reason, in the office of the principal. That's what the man next to her brought to her mind. He had wavy whitish hair and a very nice smile.

"Just from work;" she said softly, "Thought that I'd, uh, just stop for a drink."

"Here?" he said with some surprise.

"Yes, sir," she said, the 'sir' slipping in before she was aware of what she was saying.

"Well," he went on, "You're a lovely treat; I'll say that."

"Thank you, sir," Vanessa said, averting her eyes.

"And so polite!" he went on "We don't often get lovely black ladies like yourself in here."

She looked around then, as though it just then struck her. He put his hand over hers and said:

"Now, girl, don't you let that bother you; you're here with me and nothing's going to happen."

The word 'girl' shot through Vanessa's senses. She was captured by it and realized that for her it began the process, the very process that her prowling was devoted to.

"Thank you, sir," she said.

"Why don't you join me at my table over here?" he suggested, taking her arm, as he got up, and giving Vanessa no room or time to say 'no'. He smiled as she got up obediently and went with him.

When they were seated, he asked her what her name was. It was almost as though it were another's voice saying to him: "Nessa, is my name, short, uh, for Vanessa."

For Vanessa it was another step that followed the first ones made: the bag packed this morning, the journey to the bar, the decision in the parking lot to go into the bar, being called 'girl' and now introducing herself by using 'Nessa', the name she called herself for her sexual adventures. She could see the progression and at that moment didn't seem to want to do anything to stop it.

"Well, Nessa, pretty lady," he said with a smile, "What'll you have to drink?"

"Uh, white wine for me, sir," she said politely.

"White wine it'll be," he said, "Just a little wind down from work?"

"Yes, sir, uh, that's what it is," she admitted.

"You wait here, honey," he said going to the bar.

At the bar the bartender said: "Dave, how is she?"

"Hot and polite," the older man said. Then he added:

"Call the others, and get yourself free; I think we've got a live one tonight."

The bartender smiled and Dave said to him: "A white wine for our Nessa and a beer for me."

"Got it!" the bartender said, and got the drinks ready, after which he went off to make the phone calls that Dave wanted made.

Vanessa was extremely nervous by the time that Dave came back to the table. She realized that she wasn't fully committed to this yet and still had time to get away and not have what she was sure would be some kind of terribly humiliating evening. Her struggle was, at that point, going back and forth. She had to admit to herself that she liked the potential of this 'almost like a high school principal' man. But there was always that time that period before she was totally committed and under someone's influence, when the opportunity still existed to leave with her dignity.

There was, however, always that little voice, the inner voice that would whisper to her: "But, Nessa, honey, you don't want to leave with your dignity, do you."

"No," she answered, whispering the word to herself miserably but in truth.

"No, what?" Dave's voice echoed from above her and she started.

"Oh, just a kind of inner dialogue that I have with myself at times," she said, trying to hedge and not go into it further.

He sat down and gave her the drink. She looked up at him, a bit flustered that he'd heard the tail end of her monologue. He sat the drink down and said:

"Here, pretty Nessa," he gave her a big smile and continued: "And no Rohypnol!"

She smiled at him, when he said that, and he patted her hand and said:

"We don't need such things, now do we, Nessa?"

"No, sir, we don't!" she said.

He smiled then but let the topic drop but it certainly pushed Vanessa a little in the direction of allowing Nessa to take over. She knew that she was moving in that direction.

He patted her hand and said: "Truth now, Nessa, why are you so nervous? Is it this place?"

She spoke up then, caught in his demand for 'truth'; she knew that she was going to tell him about some of her ambivalence. She tried to be careful:

"You just seem to me, strike me as a real kind of authority." She laughed a little almost only to herself and went on: "It's like being in the principal's office at High School."

Dave joined in the laugh and said: "Not far wrong, pretty Nessa, I am a school administrator." He paused then and said to her:

"Drink up, honey; no date rape stuff in your drink."

She smiled at this second mention of that possibility. But she did take up the glass of wine and drink more than half of it.

"Need to be careful," she said, "Not much to eat today; don't want to get funny."

"You go a head and get funny, child," he said, the patronizing attitude not lost on her at all, "Dave will take good care of you."

"Thank you, sir," she said, drinking more of her wine.

"I know what it is that's affecting you, pretty Nessa," he said then.

"Sir?" she said politely.

"It's this place; I mean you're such a lovely black--er--afro american woman and all..."

His voice trailed off then in mid sentence; he wanted to see how she'd take what he said.

"I don't 'mind, black, sir!" she said, finishing her wine.

"Of course you don't, " he said with a smile. "You are lovely and you are black, right Nessa?" he said, his eyes staring at her.

"Yes, sir, I'm black," she said, giving in just a little more to him in the process.

"So, here's what we'll do, my lovely, lovely black woman, one more for the road and then we'll go to my place. This place is making you nervous, all these white men and all."

"Yes," she mumbled, "All these white men and all."

He grinned at her and patted her hand. "I'll just get you another glass of this, and..."

"No date rape drugs!" she said for him this time, and they shared a kind of a laugh.

When he got to the bar, the bartender just raised an inquiring eyebrow.

"Hot polite, and easy!" is what Dave said.

"The other four will be there, and I'm leaving now," the bartender said. "Thanks for this, Dave."

"Oh, Nessa's going to be a treat for us tonight. It's what's for dinner!" Dave finished with a flourish.

The bartender raised an inquiring eyebrow again and Dave, with a little laugh, said:

"Nigger meat!"

They both chuckled and Dave went back to the table with the drinks. They chatted a bit at the table, with Dave drawing Nessa in bit by bit. She drank this second wine a bit more quickly than the last one and, when she was done with it, said:

"Ladies' room."

But Dave had decided to push one more button before they left. He realized that slowly, through their conversation, he was certainly gaining power over this lovely but impressionable, and, he suspected, submissive black woman.

"Ask permission, Nessa!" he said, "Remember, I'm the principal."

She sought for a smile but it wouldn't come at all. The new demand was pushing her buttons once more. It kept happening, the mentioning of the date rape drug, and not needing it, and now, just before they were to leave for his place, he wanted her to ask permission to go to the ladies'.

"Truth now, Nessa," he said, "Remember that I'm your protector here."

"Yes, sir," she said and in a tiny voice, one that those who worked where she was in charge would never have recognized, she said:

"Please, sir, I have to pee, can I go to the ladies?"

He smiled his charming smile then and patted her hand, and said: "Now, Nessa, that wasn't so hard, was it?"

"No, sir," she admitted timidly, "But may I please?"

He just smiled at her and, breaking momentarily the bond which he'd been establishing over her, she said abruptly:

"I have to go!"

He got an angry look on his face, and said in a soft, very hard voice:

"Nessa, no one is going anywhere with that kind of attitude."

She was repentant immediately:

"I'm so sorry," she moaned, and tears actually formed in the corner of her eyes. "I don't want to disgrace myself!"

"You mean, pretty Nessa, that you don't want to pee your pretty panties?" he said softly.

She knew what he wanted then: "No, sir, I don't want to pee my pretty panties."

"Well, then you'd better go to the ladies, otherwise, we'll have to stop on the way to my place and let pretty Nessa kneel in the grass with her panties pulled down to pee, won't we?"

"Yes, sir," she said, "We'd need to do that." She reached for his hand then and kissed the back of his hand, it pleased him.

"May I please go to the ladies and pee?" she asked humbly.

"Yes, love," he said, and she went.

She made a decision on the way to the bathroom. She'd seek a side entrance, if there was one, and she was leaving. She hadn't gotten all the way into this humiliating scene but she was sinking and often enough, she'd be able to extract herself, if she acted in time. He final decision was made, as she sat on the toilet. She'd go home, maybe play with herself, maybe the vibrator but cut off this growing humiliation.

She had no idea how he knew, or how he did it. She left by the side entrance and he was standing, patiently waiting for her at her car but his face was like thunder. Without a further thought, Nessa simply took over for the rational, in charge Vanessa.

Her reaction, the submitting of herself totally to Nessa, was to go to him and simply sink to her knees in the dirt. She knew right then, and he knew also that the evening was his, and she was going to do what she was told and have another glorious, hellishly humiliating night, those nights that she sought out like candy, and that she loathed with all of her being.

He just looked at her, kneeling there but she was going to go all the way with her apology. She kissed the back of his hand, and turned it over and kissed the palm of his hand too. Then she spoke and the strangeness of what she said pleased him totally:

"Massa Dave," she began, and he broke into a gigantic smile, "Dis nigger gal don't have the sense she was born wid; no she don't. You go and let her go to that bathroom so's she don't get to piss herself and humiliate herself and she walk out dat side door! Got no sense at all, and asks for forgiveness; please, Massa Dave, please I'se sorry, and ain't goan ta do no sech silly assed thing again this long dark night. Ain't goan ta! Jes ain't!"

He grabbed for a hank of her hair and spoke down to her.

"It's alright, girl! You just behave yourself from now on and do what you're told and we're fine, right as rain."

"Yasuh!" she said with the slow wideness of the talk of her childhood spilling out of her, as though it were normal. "Right as rain!" she concluded.

He held out his hands at that point for the keys. "I'll drive;" he said, "Your car."

She surrendered the keys immediately. He got in the driver's side and she slid into the passenger seat. She instinctively pulled her short pleated skirt down, since it had ridden up showing the tops of her stockings and a bit of her garter belt.

"Stop that!" he yelled at her, and Nessa cowered against the door on her side of the car.

"Pull it back up to where it was," he said. Then, in exasperation: "Why are you being such a problem, girl? Do I have to take you in hand?"

The effect of the threat was immediate:

"No, suh," she drawled, her eyes wide, "I'se goan ta stop doin' those damn crazy things, Massa; you see."

"Good," he said. "But before we go to my place for a lovely evening, I want to know why you were in Dave's Den tonight in the first place. And no damn lies about it. You tell me straight out, girl!"

"I'se goan to, Massa!" she said.

"Then do," he said to her, staring at her intensely.

"Sometimes," she said, reverting, in her explanation, to her normal language, which caused him to smile. "I go out late in the week, like tonight, when I don't have to work tomorrow."

"And?" he prompted her.

"I call it, uh, 'prowling'," she said quietly.

"Hmm, prowling, eh?" he said, grinning now. "And the purpose of this prowling is?"

"Truth?" she asked him softly.

"Better be, or trouble, girl!" he replied softly.

She hesitated at that point, and he became impatient:

"Shall I slap you, girl?" he threatened.

"Noooo," she wailed, "It's hard for me to say." She took a deep breath and went on:

"I fantasize about being a slave to..." she hesitated again and he did slap her across the face.

"Missy, this evening is going to be a very painful one, unless you stop fucking around with me and become straight right away!" he raged at her.

"Thank you, Massa," she said, humiliated and again ready to sink herself into the fantasy. "I goes in search of dat white cock that I loves so much! I'se goan to be its slave this night, I bet, and dis nigger gal is goan to love dat, sure is!"

It made him laugh and he said: "Yes, girl, I bet you are going to love this night."

They were relatively quiet, as the drove toward his house. He lived on the outskirts of town, and down a lane. As they arrived, he turned to Nessa and said:

"You're going to do what you're told, Nessa."

It was a statement and not a request.

"Sure am, sir," she said.

Vanessa knew that she was in for an evening; but it's really what her prowling was all about. When they parked in his driveway, he went around and took her by the arm, leading her to the house. Inside the doorway, still holding her by the arm, he said to her:

"Stand here and I'll put the lights on."

When he put the lights on, Vanessa let out a small squeal. There were five older men standing around and staring at her. All were dressed alike. They all had white tee shirts on with a confederate flag emblazoned on the front, and none of them was wearing any other clothing. Vanessa was confronted with a room full of older white men with stiff cocks.

"Ohhhhhhhhhhh!" she sighed. She'd seen this kind of scene on the net so many times, had masturbated to it, fantasized about it, thought about it, let her dirty dreams revolve around it, loved it, hated it and here it was for her.

Then Dave was back, now 'dressed' like all the others.

A voice broke the silence, as Dave approached Vanessa, who was frozen in one spot:

"Dave brought us a monkey to play with!"

Vanessa's breath caught in her throat at the use of the derogatory name that he used.

Another voice from the semi-naked men softly said:

"Niiiiiiiggggggggerrrrrrrrr!"

"Nessa," Dave barked at her, to get her out of her reverie,"Kneel, girl, and greet my friends."

"Yasuh, Massa Dave!" she said, going to her knees, and the men cackled.

"Tell them who you are, Nessa!' he ordered her next

"Yasuh," she said simply and went on: "I'se dis Nessa, Massa Dave's nigger gal, dis white cock slave; dat's who I is, and I'se so pleased to see yuall."

They laughed again, and she smiled up at Dave, who nodded to her and said:

"Take those clothes off. Do it now, girl"

Vanessa was caught somewhere between loathing and the greatest heat that she could remember for a long time. She knew which would win over, and went about taking her clothes off, beginning with her blouse.

Dave slapped her face: "What the fuck are you doin', girl? Don't you have any sense? You're entertainment! You're not in your fucking closet now hurrying to take your clothes off to get on with whatever you do in the evening."

Vanessa began to cry. The whole situation was simply weighing in on her. Dave's reaction was immediate:

"Missy," he snarled at her, "You'll cry for us later, when we play but if you start the water works now, I'll personally tear the skin off of that black ass and nail your hide to my barn! Do you understand? DO YOU UNDERSTAND?"

"Yes, Massa," she said, stopping her crying immediately. "Dis gal ain't got no sense; she jes need you to guide her and make her behave. She's gonna too."

She turned to the men, who were staring and grinning at her. She said:

"Youall forgive dis gal, dis nigger gal; she goan to act better and not disrespect dis Massa Dave o' hers. I'se so sorry. Goan be jes the best entertainment gal around now."

She smiled and her fingers went back to the button on her silk blouse. She unbuttoned it and turned her back, smiling at the men over her shoulder, and widening the opening of the front of her blouse. She moved around then and held first one part of the blouse and then the other open to show one lovely pink enclosed tit and then the other. Then she smiled broadly and jerked the blouse down and off of her, discarding it.

Next it was the bra, which, once it was unfastened, was allowed to creep down her arms, giving a lovely contrast between Vanessa's chocolate skin and the pink satin of the bra. She held it in place and suddenly exploded her arms outward, flinging the bra at them. She bent then a little and moved her shoulders from side to side, wiggling her tits at them.

"Nice tits!" was the general comment from the men.

Now she strode around in a circle before them and unfastened her skirt and shimmied to let it travel down her legs. She walked toward them with the skirt descending lower and lower with each step, revealing her pink panties and her marvelous hips, thighs and ass. When the skirt was down at her ankles, she stepped out of it and then kicked it at them. They put it on a pile with her other clothes by the door.

She looked inquiringly at Dave. He responded right away: "All!"

"All, yes, Massa!" she said and started to remove her stockings and garter belt, and then the panties, handing them to Dave, who was standing there and watching.

"Open!" he said to her, and she opened her mouth, allowing him to put the panties into her mouth, with the crotch gusset turned inside out, so that she could taste her own wetness.

"Object lesson here, Nessa," Dave said, "Turn and bend over; show the boys that magnificent ass of yours."

Nessa did as she was told, realizing that the difficulties of the evening were about to begin for her. Dave retrieved a slim rod that was encased in green plastic, used normally for garden purposes, and slashed at the offered naked ass twice with the rod. Each blow produced a loud squeal of pain from Nessa, which was delivered into the panties gag in her mouth.

She had tears on her face, when he allowed her to turn around but stifled her crying at one stern look from him.

"Squat down, girl," he said, "Present yourself to my friends."

She obeyed, and flinched a little, when he used the green rod to tap on her thighs and splay them out a little more.

"Hands behind your head, tits out, pussy showing!" he barked at her, and she did as she was told.

"Obedient monkey, this one!" a voice said and they all laughed.

Dave turned to them and said: "Gentlemen, entertainer for the night, Nessa; afro american business woman, important in her company."

One of the semi naked men stepped forward and said to Dave suspiciously:

"Looks like a nigger whore to me!"

They laughed, and he stepped closer again:

"Smells like a nigger whore to me too!"

They laughed again.

Dave chuckled and said to Nessa:

"Is that what you are?"

"Yes, Massa Dave," she replied instantly, "Dis gal's jes a nigger 'ho out to make a pleasant evening for my Massa and his friends."

She looked up at Dave then with tears in her eyes again and said:

"Massa, can dis gal ask a question?"

"Sure, Nessa," Dave replied.

"Youall goan hurt dis Nessa?" she asked softly.

He laughed and they joined in the laugh with him.

"Of course we are!" he said, "That's part of the fun of having our own nigger gal to play with, isn't it, sweetie?"

"Yasuh," she said to him softly, holding back the tears.

"Not time yet for tears, girl," he said sternly; "I've already talked to you about that."

"Yes, Massa Dave," she replied.

"Take your fingers and open your mouth wide at the cheeks, show the boys what a big cock sucker's mouth you have," he said next.

Nessa did as she was told, holding her mouth wide open in an exaggerated fashion to demonstrate its size.

"Can't wait to get my prick in that one!" was the general comment. The men enjoyed what was happening immensely, a few of them idly playing with their cocks.

"Now turn around," Dave ordered and Nessa got out of her squat and turned around.

"Spread your ass cheeks for us; show us your asshole, girl!" was the next order.

She did as she was told, at that point both loving it intensely and wishing that she had a hole to crawl into and simply hide herself.

She reached back with her hands and grabbed a lovely ass cheek with each hand and spread the cheeks to reveal her asshole to the gaping men.

"Turn, girl!" Dave said and she turned to face them again, on her knees now.

"Tell us what you have for us, Nessa!" he ordered.

"Nessa got dese sweet parts to play with, Massa Dave and yo friends; she got dese lovely titties and big brown nipplies; she got dis sweet pussy and her big ass both money makers, and dey'se jes waitin' to be played with, and she got dis hongry hongry mouf wantin' some o' that white cock that she sees all around, oh, yes, dat white cock is where it's at for dis gal!"

The laughed and clapped, when she was finished. She knew it was about to begin in earnest. But one thing intervened; it was unexpected but suddenly it was there.

Vanessa noticed that her car keys were on a hook by the door just above the pile of her clothes, and then she did something that was as courageous as it was, in that situation, stupid. She moved, swept up her clothes, took her car keys and walked out.

She realized right away that, despite the shouting, she had the advantage, since she was willing to drive away naked and dress later, whereas the men had to all put their pants on.

"Going home!" she said resolutely but then realized, all too soon, that she'd hesitated a bit too long. They burst from the door and she knew immediately that she wasn't going to make it to the car. In a moment of panic, she just began to run for the path through the woods behind the house. It didn't make a lot of sense but her moment of lucidity was gone and she was back reduced to being the frightened slave girl.

The night was rent by a terrible roar, and she realized that one of them had a shotgun. It was the end for her. She was in a clearing ahead of them but she just sank to her knees. With no other thoughts at all, she put her head on the ground, with her harms over her head and her ass in the air.

They were finally all around her and someone kicked her in the ass and sent her toppling over. She lay there curled up and recognized Dave's feet. She crawled to him and was sobbing:

"Massa Dave, Massa Dave, jes doan know what got into dis gal, dis silly, silly gal. She got no sense no how. You forgive yo Nessa and don't let noone harm her, dat silly gal."

Having made this speech, she began to kiss and lick Dave's shoe, and continued until she'd licked the whole shoe and went to the other one.

Then came their reaction. One after another they began to laugh. Nessa looked up, not sure what was happening.

"Dave, Dave, this is the most fun we've had in a fuckin' month of sundays," one of them said, and the others agreed.

"To have this big titted, round assed nigger gal running away through the night and us running to catch her was just a fuckin' hoot."

Nessa looked up, listening to them laugh and smiled tentatively at Dave.

"Girl," he said, "You're just a wild one, a wild one. But, honey, if you got to run, you make sure that you make it because you get caught and something's going to happen."

"Yasuh!" she said, "Dis Nessa's sorry, Massa Dave!"

"I know, child," he said "But you've got to have some punishment. Got to."

"I knows dat," she said softly, "Nessa deserves it too, Massa Dave."

He turned to the others and said: "Get a pole, from the barn; we'll bring her in properly."

She lay there wondering what they were going to do but was not prepared for what was about to happen. One of them came back with a long pole and some duct tape. They taped her wrists together and then her ankles, and putting the pole beneath the bound wrists and ankles, hoisted her up like a captured animal.

"Ohhhhhhhhhhhhh!" she moaned, realizing that this whole incident, which was supposed to send her off to some freedom, had merely increased the erotic effect that this entire evening was having.

Dave had a stick in his hands and whacked it against her hip, eliciting a loud squeal from the hanging woman:

"Got you just like an animal!" he said.

"Sure do!" Nessa replied, trying to be light and bright about it. She was so frightened at this point that she was almost in a fugue state of mind, giggling uncontrollably.

"What kind of animal are you, Nessa?" another asked, poking her with the stick.

"Massa Dave's Monkey," she said with a giggle and then they wanted her to make monkey noises and then it was pig noises, as she was hauled through the woods toward the barn.

"Stop a minute," Dave said. They found tree crotches to hand the pole in with Nessa hanging there, her head hanging down.

"What, Massa?" she asked nervously.

"You say, you're sorry, girl for trying to run away?" he asked.

"Sure am!" she said, again more brightly than the situation merited.

"Good, show me," Dave said, stepping up to her head, which was at his thigh level. He unzipped his pants and took out his cock, and rubbed it around her face.

"Dis is what dis bad girl wants," she crooned, opening her mouth wide. "Come to Nessa, come to Nessa, come to Momma; love dat white cock, love to taste it, to suck on it and have it in dis bad girl's mouf!"

Dave grabbed her by the back of her head and pushed his prick into her mouth and, easily from the position she was in, her throat, fucking her mouth and throat, until he sprayed cum into her mouth.

"Oh, thank you, Massa!" she said.

"Okay," Dave said then, "Let's get her to the barn."

They got her back to near where the barn was and propped the pole up on some metal stanchions that were there, leaving Nessa hanging there. They went into the barn and came back with more of the terrible green covered rods.

"Oh, please!" she begged, in a voice that was too frightened to allow her even to lapse into her usual patois.

But 'please' wasn't helping at all. They proceeded to beat her with the green rods, until she was marked, and screaming and promising to be good and do anything that they wanted. They laughed at her screams and her promises. They were simply enjoying this whole turn of events.

Finally they were finished, and took the pole, with Nessa still on it, into the barn. One of them went off to the house to get something. She was taken off of the pole and taped to a chair in the middle of the barn floor, while they waited. Her legs were taped to the chair legs and her arms were taped to the arms of the chair.

"What now, sir?" Nessa asked in a normal voice, fear and a certain amount of erotic spark were both present in her question.

Dave spoke to her then: "The evening was to be merely fun with a willing black woman, you. But then you decided to take yourself away and you suddenly got some kind of twinge of conscience or something, and you tried to leave. That merely made the boys angry. Of course, all along a certain amount of beating, pain were always to be involved. That was no secret to either you or us but the beating was worse, was the punishment for trying to run out on us; and now the next part is the consequence. Something needs to happen to make you remember. Do you understand?"

"Yes, sir!" she said, beginning to cry, a very chastened, sore woman.

"Yes, Nessa," he said, "It's okay to cry now, since the fun is about to start."

"What you going to do?" she asked, softly, almost afraid of the answer.

"It's not to be so bad, actually, we've decided that we'll shave off all that lovely curly hair and let you think about trying to welsh on us tonight, all the while it's growing back."

She began to cry in earnest. "Oh, please?" was all that came to her mind.

"You're begging is not going to derail this train!" was what he answered, and it was then that one of the men came back with various implements in his hands.

She looked on now, spooked, afraid and dreading what they were surely going to do.

"Now be very still, our Nessa," he said, "This razor is used to work on animals, and since you're our monkey of choice tonight, we'll use it on you. But it's powerful and could hurt you, if you don't stay still. Do you understand, girl?"

"Dis poor nigger gal understand, Massa," she said, through her sobs, reduced to the patois again. "She sure sorry for actin' the fool like dat. You gots to do this, Massa?"

"You know I do," he said, with the powerful shearing razor now ready.

She only nodded her head then and sat silently, as they used the razor on her head, whisking away her kinky, curly hair, too short for afro but very attractive nevertheless, in no time.

They laughed at that point so hard that some of them had tears in their eyes.

"Skanky bald cunt!" one of them said through his giggles.

"No, dummy," another said, laughing, "It's not her cunt that's bald, that's nice and hairy it's her fucking head!"

They all laughed at that. Nessa simply sat and tried not to cry, as they let the mirth run its course.

They were drinking beer and had been for a while. One of them, pausing after a pull from his bottle, just as the laughter was dying off said:

"Hey, fuckin' bitch looks good bald, sexy."

"See, Nessa, honey," Dave said, "They think you look sexy."

"Thank you, Massa Dave," she said, and waited.

"Now, what we've been waiting for all evening," he said back to her. "We have a naked black woman here, naked and willing and everyone wants a piece of her. You don't mind, do you, Nessa?"

"No, Massa Dave," she said, "Youall get dose white pricks out here again and dis gal's gonna turn cock sucker for sure!"

"You heard the lady, gents," Dave said, and soon the scene was the same as before in the house, with the middle aged men, some with beer bellies, wearing only their white tee shirts with the confederate flag emblazoned on it, as they queued up one after another, their cocks stick out for a blow job from their willing, black, naked captive.

"Dis's what dis gal loves!" Nessa cooed, as the first white cock was rubbed against her lips and she opened for it, to begin the series of blow jobs that they wanted. "Dese white pricks to be hers for sure, Massa!" she admitted, giving free range to the fantasy that brought her to where she was right then.

"Here come dis little man!" she cooed, when the first cock was rubbed along her lips. "Come to me, honey; come to dis Momma, honey; come to dis black gal's mouf!"

The men chuckled at the brightness of Nessa's attitude as the first pulled his cumming prick out of her mouth and sprayed her face.

"Mark me for sure!" she said, and smiled at them, looking around expectantly for the next. He stepped up and she crooned to him:

"My next bo! Dis white cock comin' home now ta me! Ta dis gal's mouf!" She opened wide and slid her tongue out to lick the head of the cock, and ended saying: "You come on home now, you hea'?"

The scene was repeated and another load of cum was deposited on Nessa's smiling face, and the next stepped up. His prick was bigger than the first two. She took note of it right away:

"Oh dis big cock man! Oh, yes, bring dat horsey thing to dis Nessa; bring that bad boy right hea and we goan lick it good!'

She worked her magic again and was decorated yet one more time. She was right in the middle of it; right there. She'd so often sought out and ogled at scenes of black women in a room full of red neck men, naked from the waist down and wearing those ignorant tee shirts, and here she was playing that scene, as the lined up to get their cocks sucked. They were not very attractive; they were pushing middle age, more than a few of them but she was here to serve them in this sexual way, giving herself willingly over to this humiliating fantasy, which would certainly cause her to be angry and sick, once these sexual scenes were totally played out for her.

She was treated to all sorts and shapes of cocks, none of them really, terribly big but all of them, as far as she was concerned, white and tasty! That was her thing, the thing, the main thing: 'white'; the tasty part was just gravy.

She frankly enjoyed the cock sucking. It was a thing with her, especially when it meant indulging her frequent fantasy for the cock that she was servicing to be white. She loved the taste, the texture, the silky hardness of a cock in her mouth and sucked avidly, not even minding, in her lust, the fact that each of them was shooting his cum all over her face. It ended with her simply slimed by it, simply covered by cum, face, bald head, tits, all over her.

They cheered then and one of them, obeying an instinct, poured a beer over her head saying:

"Maybe this will help clean her off."

"Thank you, sir!" she said meekly, not a total mess.

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