Melissa

by realoldbill

Copyright© 2015 by realoldbill

Sex Story: There are point-of-view changes in this tale of good and evil

Caution: This Sex Story contains strong sexual content, including Ma/ft   NonConsensual   Rough   First   .

Melissa's Story

It was my duty, but I really did not want to do it, however I had no choice, and besides, it would, I was sure, have a very pleasant result in the long run. But I hate crying women, despise them. I knocked on the girl's door and let myself in without waiting. She was still in her bed, the covers loosely bunched about her hips and her luscious body nearly bare, dark hair spread widely across her pillows. But then the sun was barely up, painting her gold and red. I felt the beginnings of arousal.

"Melissa," I said loudly.

She sat up quickly, shaking her head and then raking back her lustrous hair with her fingers, her high breasts nearly bared to my eager eyes. "Uncle," she cried, "what time is it? What are you doing here?"

"I have bad news girl, I'm sorry, very bad news. I know it's early but I just found out by telegraph messenger. I felt you should know at once." My eyes devoured her, her youth and beauty. I could hardly wait to pin her to a bed with my hard prong, to have her writhing beneath me, begging and moaning.

She licked her lips, lips I would soon own and savor. "I don't understand." Her hard little nipples were clearly defined beneath the thin material, her long legs bare to the hip.

"Your parents, my dear, are dead, drowned. Their ship foundered off Nova Scotia two nights ago. Only one seaman survived and he brought the news. A man from the newspaper came out and told me an hour ago."

"Dead, both of them. I can't believe it." She let the gown fall off her right shoulder to bare her round breast. It was lovely. My palms itched and I felt myself salivating and hardening. She wept into her hands, deep sobs, just as I had feared. I hardened anyhow, painfully.

I tried to look mournful and stepped forward to pat her shivering back, and look down her gaping gown. "I'm sorry, but it is true. Now we must prepare." Her nipples were berry like. The death of my stupid brother and his beautiful doxy would make me richer as well as give me this lovely little bitch to warm my bed, but I tried to look sad.

"Prepare, prepare for what?" She sniffed and looked up at me, tears on her cheeks, so young and lovely

"Your father died deeply in debt, Melissa. There will have to be a sale, a sale to pay his debts."

"Father? In debt? I can't believe it."

"Sadly it's true and the bank will demand payment from his estate, payment at once I fear. He also owed several men, gambling debts I'm sorry to say. And he owed me, owed me a great deal, several thousand." I did not tell her that I planned to foreclose and take the land, all of it, nearly a thousand acres, as soon as he returned from England. I would have made him my tenant farmer and used his wife as well as his daughter for my pleasure. My late brother was a sniveling fool.

"Let me get dressed," she said, pulling her nightgown up on her shoulder and nearly freeing her other lovely mound with its pink tit. Melissa Wessex at barely sixteen and without a corset had the best pair in the county. She was a little more than five feet tall and probably weighed a hundred pounds or so, all of it prime. I could hardly wait to skewer her, and I felt my groin trembling. I adjusted my trousers.

"Of course," I said and sat in a soft chair and crossed my legs, repressing a smile, my cock well down my thigh.

"Uncle, please," she said, wiping her face with her hands, "give me some privacy." She swirled her nightgown about her legs.

"Oh I think not," I said with a smile. "Now you are just property, my girl, goods and chattels, simply another slave, one of his three dozen or so. Slaves do not get privacy as you call it. Slaves must not conceal anything."

She spun from the bed and put her feet on the floor, her light gown flowing about her lush body. My cock jerked.

"What! You're mad. What are you talking about?" She was angry and her color rose.

"He didn't tell you? Pity. My brother was such a fool. I suppose he was waiting until you were older or engaged to be married, then he would have to tell. Damn'd shame." I was enjoying myself, I must admit, watching her mystified face.

She found a blue robe at the foot of her bed and shrugged into it, covering my delighted view of her wonderful body. Since I was sure I would soon own that body, I resolved to be patient. Curiously, I had seen no sign of pubic hair. There should have been at least a shadow. She was surely nubile, wonderfully nubile, ripe, ready for plucking. I had poked enough black striplings to know the signs.

"Let me explain, my dear. You are a nigra, some say nigress I suppose, an octoroon although not exactly that, and you are a Wessex slave just as was your mother, your grandmother and your great-grandmother who was probably the offspring of some vile slaver or overseer long, long ago. She was the first, old Philip's wife if he actually married her, the original African bitch's bastard child. Her picture's on the stairwell, isn't it? The family claims she was some sort of princess." I chuckled. "But look at her. She's a nigra for sure."

"My mother. Lord, she was fairer than I am, and I am whiter than you are."

'We are not talking about color, Melissa. We are talking about blood. You are part African, a mulatto. We really do not have a term for your pedigree. Your grandmother, Patricia wasn't it, was one-fourth black, a quadroon is the word; your dear mother an eighth and you are one-sixteenth, but that is enough. It would be enough if you were only one-sixty-fourth. You will be sold with your father's other possessions."

"It can't be," the girl cried, backing up to the wall and looking horrified, her comfortable world of luxury collapsing around her. I stood, crossed the room, opened her robe and tore off her fancy nightgown, stared at her bare body, tossed the gown on the bed and then left to see my attorney about confiscating my brother's land before the sale.

As I had predicted so it was to be, and on sale day after the house, the furniture, pots and dishes, paintings and carpets, farm equipment and stock were sold, the slave auction began. Some of the older ones found no buyers and were turned out; most brought a good price for my brother took care of his animals and his people being very sparing with the whip, fool that he was.

Then, as the last piece of property, Melissa mounted the platform wearing only a plain shift, barefoot, black hair hanging loosely down her back, nearly to her wonderfully rounded buttocks, her eyes red from crying, mouth pouting nicely I thought. She had watched her comfortable world, as well as most of her clothes and jewelry, being swept away to strangers' hands. By damn but she was a shapely wench for one so young. I was sure there was not a limp cock in the crowd.

"Take it off," said Tom, the auctioneer. I must admit he leered at the lush youngster. I couldn't blame him. He had sold off some good-looking black girls during the past hour, and stripped all of them, but nothing like this piece of ass, this lovely chattel, this shapely child, this breathing property.

She shook her head and he grasped her flimsy garment between her firm breasts and tore it from her and tossed it to the ground. She yelped. The crowd sighed. Melissa put a hand between her legs and her forearm across her breasts, one shoulder strap hanging from her elbow. Disbelief filled her pretty face.

"Turn about," said Tom gruffly. Melissa had almost as good a backside as she did a front. Her hips were not very wide but her butt was quite shapely and her spine wonderfully curved and deeply trenched. I was sure I could bounce her on that fine ass and longed to feel it pressed against my belly.

At that point the best price yet for a Wessex slave was $2,100 for a farrier-blacksmith who was barely thirty, a skilled workman. The bidding on Melissa quickly passed $2,500. I waited. Because the estate owed me, I could bid recklessly.

When I said, rather loudly, "Three thousand," Melissa glared at me. It was the winning bid. She stepped down from the stage, and I handed her the torn shift. She threw it down and stepped on it. Her nipples were hard and jutting. I was tempted to have her then and there, to rip her open on the platform so everyone could hear her scream.

"You bastard," she hissed at me as I led her to my rig where two naked fieldhands waited wearing neck halters. I watched their young pricks start to harden as we approached, the girl's lovely jugs jiggling nicely. I was sure that they were, as advertised, good breeders and they surely had first class equipment. I slipped a halter on Melissa, tied her hands behind her with a strip of rawhide, and we were ready to travel, the small, white-skinned girl between the two large, ink-black bucks, both sporting hard pricks, jutting horns.

I mounted to the driver's seat, made sure the family pictures I had bought were secure and then clucked at my horse. The three slaves roped on behind had to trot to keep up, hard to do with their hands behind them, but I never went faster than a rapid walking pace although I must admit I was tempted to canter. It was about five miles, and I turned now and then to admire Melissa's bouncing boobs and stricken face, her hair streaming out behind her like a flag. The boys seemed to be enjoying themselves. I let the horse trot as we turned into my long drive, and the slaves had to run up the path of crushed shells. I am sure it was painful, but the boys' feet were hard.

I reined up at the shed behind the house with the three naked people behind me panting and gasping for breath, Melissa sobbing. My black slave-driver took the two young men away, and I led Melissa into the house, feeling my cock throbbing in anticipation. She had been in my home several times previously, but always before in a fine dress and wearing dainty slippers, her waist tightly cinched, an honored and coddled guest. Now she was naked and barefoot, a piece of property like a desk or chair.

I untied her hands, told Amos to take her to the back bedroom and warned him not to harm her. He smiled at me, showing his filed teeth as he stroked her arm. Amos was, by far, the most sadistic black men I've ever known as well as one of the biggest. I had no slave problems, mainly because of Amos. I have no runaways because he always caught them and brought them back begging for forgiveness, flayed skin hanging from their beaten backs. He had throttled one trouble-making young buck with his hands, twisting his head as one might kill a chicken. The man lacked both pity and mercy, and he had trained my slave-driver and overseer. I had absolutely no worries bout my slaves, and I fully intended for Melissa to become one with them, one in fear and subservience.

I saw to the stowing of the art and then mounted my wide stairway to claim my prize possession. "Melissa," I said as I closed and locked the door behind me, "did your late father deflower you?"

She shook her head, standing by the window and holding a lacy curtain before her strong, young body.

"You are a virgin then?" I asked.

'Go to the devil," she cried. "Leave me alone."

"Those boys you trotted here with, shall I give you to them. You know how they looked at you."

"They said terrible things to me. Told me what they wanted to do. Showed me their, their awful members, spiking out like they were. Rubbed them on my legs."

"Perhaps Amos, my house servant, the man who brought you up here, shall I let him have you?" By then I had removed my coat and weskit. My shirt was next. "Come here," I demanded rather loudly when I had stripped to the waist. "At once." I showed her the short riding crop that was dangling from my wrist and popped it against my high boot. "You know what happens to disobedient slaves. You've seen them beaten I'm sure."

She nodded and stepped from behind the drapery. My heart leapt and my cock stirred. She was the very picture of innocent beauty with her tiny waist and sloping hips. I could now see that she did have a small tuft of pubic hair beneath the soft puff of her belly, just a few dark curls above her hidden treasures. Her thighs were a bit heavy perhaps, but her legs were long and well formed and her ankles quite thin as behooved a well-bred animal. I longed to have those legs about me.

"I am sorry your father did not take your maidenhead, my girl. He should have done so several years ago. But, no mind, I shall do it for you. Come, pull off my boots. Be useful."

I sat and crossed my legs, had her step over my extended leg and pull at the heel. While she did that, I poked with my quirt and examined her tight-lipped cunny and her tiny wrinkled anus while she shuddered and mewled. Both were lovely, barely pink but I knew that within waited darker colors and incredible pleasure. I switched legs and she yanked off the other boot while I probed between her narrow labia. Then I pulled her down on my lap, grasped her full breasts and squeezed firmly as my hard cock rubbed her bottom.

She squealed and I squeezed harder, pinching out her small nipples.

"What's that? You are sixteen years old, girl. Don't tell me no man has fondled your boobs. Good lord."

"Please uncle," she begged, falling to her knees before me. "I pray you. Don't make me a slave. Please, please." Tears flowed down her pale cheeks and she put her hands together as if in prayer. Her gray-green eyes were beseeching me. I could not recall a more touching scene. I nearly laughed aloud.

"But you are. Don't you understand? You were born a slave just as your mother was, and unless I free you, a very unlikely occurrence, you will die a slave and your get, if any, will, of course, be slaves. Your father could have freed your mother, but he did not. In fact he let many other men use her and he sold off all the boys she bore, the three that lived. You were the only girl child. She provided him many benefits, many privileges; even I had her two or three times when he wanted to settle a debt. I shall use you in the same manner, as a treat for my friends and business partners."

I freed my aching rod from my foreflap and it jumped out in her face, its head a reddish purple. "I may even let you marry one of the cousins unless I decide to wed you myself. We shall see." I considered whether or not my fat wife might have an unfortunate accident, perhaps in the river, the barren prig.

She shook her head and whimpered, her eyes very big, unable to look away from my impressive phallus as it throbbed and jerked before her nose. She was surely going to have to open wide those pretty lips for my thick manhood.

"I suppose you've never done this either," I said, burying one hand in her dark hair, grasping my gnarled shaft and rubbing my domed cockhead across her shocked face, back and forth over her lips, pushing them open over her clamped teeth. "Your father should have taught you years ago. Open your mouth and keep your little teeth to yourself."

"No, no," she sobbed through barely open lips, shaking her head. I hit her flank with my quirt, just one sharp blow. She whinnied but still refused.

I backhanded her across the face and she gasped. In went my aching ram, nearly half of it, and she gagged and gulped.

"Now suck, suck and lick and cover your teeth. I'll show you how to use them later. Move your head to and fro, up and down, keep licking, girl, and keep your lips sealed about my prick. That's good, nod and suck." I made a series of short jabs, all very pleasant, bouncing my pride off the roof of her mouth, holding her hands until I was sure she was going to do as I demanded.

It was wonderful to have my cock in such a beautiful girl's mouth and her tongue was pleasantly rough. She would learn, I was sure. An excellent investment, I concluded.

She was horrified, obviously, but soon she was doing a creditable job of cocksucking even if she did gag now and again. I reached down with one hand to tweak a nipple while I kept my other hand behind her head, tangled in her hair. She was making very odd sound each time I went deep, sort of an "owk." Her look was of complete disbelief.

I praised her efforts but did not try to enter her throat after she gagged and choked several times. I brought one of her hands to my thick shaft and had her dandle my swollen balls with the other. She was gentle from the first and I praised her.

As I felt myself nearing my peak, I debated ejaculating out the window but decided she should have the taste of my spew so I grasped her head in both hands and fired into her mouth, demanding that she swallow. She did as she was told and when I was spent, I pulled free and let her collapse at my feet, moaning, thick globs of white on her lips and chin.

"A good start, Melissa," I said, patting her back and caressing her buttocks, "after we eat, I shall deflower you and continue your education."

I had Amos take her some slave clothes, the same shapeless, homespun garments all the females wore, and then enjoyed a good meal. When I was done, I got a piece of cornpone and a slice of ham and went back to the girl's room, a bottle of red wine under my arm, prepared for an hour of pleasure.

She refused the food, throwing it out the window, and I smacked her face, back and forth, bringing some blood to her nose. Then I pulled off her rude dress, tossed her up on the bed and climbed up beside her, still fully clothed, my cock feeling like a piece of cast iron fresh from the smithy's forge. I freed it. She squealed when she saw it again, curved up like a scimitar.

"Melissa," I said, as I grasped her fine breast and pulled her to me, "I am going to do this. I deflower all my slaves. It's my duty. If you cooperate, it will not hurt very much. If you do not," I snorted, "well, they will all hear you screaming and know what is happening."

She looked at me wide-eyed as I felt her young pussy and slipped a finger into her. 'Please," was all she said. She was incredibly tight but quite dry.

My cock is not particularly long however it is quite thick and very strong, but I must admit, I had to put most of my weight behind my blunt ram to get it into Melissa in that sunny back room. She writhed and bucked, beating at me with her small fists as I spread her legs, one on my shoulder and the other in my grip, but when I popped through her labial defenses she only gasped and arched, arms out wide, eyes closed. I sank it all the way, right to the balls, ripping her open, and she inhaled and fainted, damn her, mouth agape. Just went limp.

I pulled out my bloodstained ram, washed it off at the basin and then dripped some water on her face. I got back on her, braced my boots on the footboard, got her thighs above my hips and when she regained consciousness, had a good ride, gallant and satisfying, going at her full tilt, galloping if you will.

She was, of course, very tight and although she tried to lie inert and just let me take her, I must have hit some sensitive places for she gasped and groaned, and before I came she had surely lubricated her nether passage thoroughly and her hips were moving in concert with mine and rocking from side to side. She was snorting out each gasping breath, looking quite stricken as I plunged and plunged.

She was going to be a fine piece, of that I was sure. My cock had seldom delved into such a wonderful hole; her innards convulsed and rippled very pleasantly. Training was all she needed.

I fired my cannon in her, several times in fact, and then humped her until I began to soften. I pulled loose, let her legs fall, crawled up her lean body, dragging my tool between her firm jugs and slipped my dripping cock into her gaping mouth. "Clean me off, Melissa," I demanded, and she shook her head from side to side. I smacked her flank sharply, and she sucked and licked a bit, enough I that I could let it pass.

I stood at the bedside, looking down at her lovely body with my spend oozed from her nether lips and her breasts showing my teeth marks, my thick manhood a bit sore. I didn't even recall tasting her tits but I must have. I wiped my dripping cock with her hair and then bent and kissed her bruised mouth, tonguing her deeply.

"You are no longer a girl," I said. 'Now you can be useful, but remember, you are a slave and you must be obedient. I am going to let Amos have you as a reward for his loyal service. Remember that, loyalty is rewarded. Wrap your legs about him and do him well and you will be all right. This is your duty. Understand?"

She lay there sniveling and shaking her head, her legs widely spread, one knee raised, her thighs already showing bruises. Her nose had stopped bleeding.

I called Amos, told him I had just deflowered the girl and asked him if he would like to use her. He smiled, showing me his cruel teeth. I asked him to be as gentle as he could, but also told him he was to enjoy himself. "Try not to hurt her." I said as I followed him into her room. She was sitting at the side of the bed, bathing her battered groin and holding up one breast to examine the damage I suppose.

Amos quickly disrobed and took off the soft slippers that he used in the house. I had seen his huge cock before, as well as his muscular body, but I was always impressed, and I had watched him fuck some of my females before, mainly as punishment, but I was looking forward to this joining with extra anticipation for I knew that once Melissa had served Amos, she could take any man. I must admit, I felt as I often did watching a stallion cover the mares when I saw what he was going to shove into her; it was a mighty horsecock indeed.

Melissa looked from Amos's raring spire to me. 'No, no," she cried. "Uncle, please. He'll kill me." His dark rod with the reddish head seemed aimed at the ceiling and was hoehandle thick.

Amos wrapped his hand in her long hair and pulled her face to his, kissing her roughly. His naked black body glowed with good health and showed his many, tightly-bunched muscles as well as a series of whip welts on his back, very old scars. He was well over six feet tall and probably weighted twenty stone, perhaps 250 pounds.

He turned the girl over so she was face down on the bed with her legs hanging over the side, toes barely touching the floor, and then he grinned at me and drove his huge manhood up into her vagina, lifting her up on his long ram, so she briefly danged on his pike, feet clear of the floor.

I watched his buttocks clench and relax, clench and relax as he hammered his big cock into her defenseless pussy, and I listened to her gasp and beg as she writhed and beat the covers of the bed. They made a kind of squishing sound as he drove up into her and pulled her to him.

From where I sat I could watch his heavy-veined manhood slide in and out of the girl's ass, making me think of a posthole digger at work or the piston of a steam engine. He seemed tireless as well as merciless.

After a few minutes, as the pace of Amos's swiving had increased to more than a thrust a second, and he was loudly smacking their flesh together and grunting in time with his efforts, he pulled his cock from her cunny, dripping blood of course, and rammed it forthrightly into her anus, sodomizing her thoroughly as he dug his black fingers into her white buttocks.

It surprised me and I barely had time to cry, "Don't" before his long spear was buried in her. I had wanted that hole for one of my best friends, but forgot to warn him. She screamed and arched, transfixed, and Amos soon came in her bowels, bending his back and gasping with pleasure, smiling, showing his pointed teeth and wide tongue. Melissa screamed until she could cry no longer and then just sobbed.

He pulled free, cleaned his immense and bloodstained tool at the basin, smiled at me, dressed quickly and left with a bow. My new slave was dripping bloody mucus from both her pleasurable orifices and sobbing, down on her knees beside the bed.

I came and sat beside her, lifted her chin and said, "You'll never have a bigger man than that, never. You did very well, Melissa, I am proud of you. Now come and suck me again. You must learn to do that better." I freed my blood filled cock, excited by watching her violent rape, and pulled her face to it. She looked up at me with tear filled eyes, but opened her mouth. I came quite quickly and left her wiping her mouth on her hand.

2 Melissa rose and pulled her rough dress over her head, smoothing her only garment down her lush, young body, and then stepped into her wooden clogs. Her parents were now dead for just over a month, a month in which she had learned that she was property and then had been forced to become her uncle's unwilling sex slave. No day of the last thirty had passed without some man using her body, even during those days where she was suffering her courses and sometimes got her lovers' members or clothes bloody with her flux.

Her skills at fellatio had improved greatly, and she was now able to tolerate men using her anus as well as her throat without noisy complaint, but she still hated it. Twice now her uncle and another man his age had enjoyed her at the same time, and she had finally figured out how to derive some pleasure from her body while others were using it. Now, when she was alone, or just before she slept, she comforted herself with her fingers.

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