Chapter 2

The interior of the shack was even more shabby than the outside. Susan tried to hold back for a moment at the doorway, as Duke disappeared inside and lit an old-fashioned kerosene lamp, then returned to pull her in. The interior of the weather beaten shack was even more shabby than the outside and a bit cold.

"Build a fire, Stitch," Duke commanded to the sulking form that was last to enter. "And don't burn the god damn place up."

"I-I-I kin build a-a-as good a f-f-fire as y-y-you can," he stuttered defensively, and then stepped outside again to collect the wood.

"Ya oughta lay off him, Duke," Coke said when Stitch was out of earshot. "He's one o' us, and oughta be treated right."

"He'll be treated right, awright. If he ever pulls a stunt like he did back there in the car, I'll cut his balls off, and he won't have to worry none about it."

"Aw, he wuz just excited, ya know how he gits," Shorty chimed into the argument. "Ya know he ain't got a brain in his head."

"I know he ain't, an' that's why I'm pushin' 'im. He's gotta learn to control hisself, jist like the rest of us," Duke answered tersely. "When he does that, then he can have it. Besides, I got thinking to do. I tole the man I'd be all ready when he sends his contact man up with the plans tomorrow "

"Where was 'e comin' in from?" Shorty asked.

"Detroit, where else?" You think them honkies got a goin' over last summer, man, you ain't seen nothin yet. Wait'll ya hear what he got in mind for 'em this time."

"He's gonna lay it to 'em, huh?" Shorty smiled a broad toothy smile, and smacked his hand against his knee. "He shore know how to do it."

"Yeh, but you remember whose boss here. I kin handle Chicago."

"Man, you gotta do what he say or we don't git no more money."

"Aw, he ain't so big. We kin make our own contacts if we gotta. There's plenty o' scratch around jist waitin' to be picked up to back good ole civil rights causes."

He snickered for a moment at his joke, and the others followed suit as Susan listened in confused wonder. The apathy that had lain over her mind since first being abducted into the car by this gang of negroes, was gradually lifting and she found herself becoming more and more perceptive of what was going on around her. She had assumed at first that they were just a wild bunch of criminals, perhaps escapees of the state reformatory, but now it appeared that they were something more sinister. They seemed to be here for a purpose, and it was surely connected with the riots that had started last summer‹the ones that everyone was afraid were going to occur again, with school ending in a few weeks.

"What we gonna do with this honky chick, Duke?" Shorty asked. "She could blow the whole thing if she gits loose."

"She ain't gonna git loose, we'll make sure of that, and besides, the big glow ain't for two more days now, an' we'll worry 'bout her when that time comes."

"You ain't gonna kill 'er are ya?" Coke intervened with a worried expression on his face.

Duke looked at him for a short second, and then burst into laughter at his concern.

"Man," he roared, "here you gonna kill a hundred honkies on Friday, and you worryin' about one little ole white gal here. That's crazy, man, crazy."

"Yeh, but it's different," Coke argued back, a hurt expression on his face. "We cain't scream civil rights if they catch us."

"They ain't gonna catch us for nuthin, you hear. We gonna take care 'o her my way. And... meanwhile," he added, "she can watch after us, cain't chya, honey?"

Duke smiled at her and Susan dropped her head back to the floor. She leaned more heavily against the wall where he had left her, and drew her arms around her breasts They hung loose and partly exposed from a large tear in the upper part of her dress caused by their struggles in the car. Her bra was gone along with her panties, and she felt naked and vulnerable to their stares as they waited for her answer to Shorty's question.

She stood silent and did not speak.

"I asked ya a question, baby," he suddenly spat at her and walked to her side.

Still Susan did not move or make a sound, even though her heart was lodged tightly in her throat in fear.

The loud sound of a hard slap suddenly echoed through the room, as the negro who had just so brutally raped her, swung his arm in a wide arc and brought the palm of his hand down hard across her face.

"Now, you jist answer when I ask ya sumpin', baby, or next time it's gonna be worse."

"W-What do you want from me?" she managed to finally stammer out through the thin stream of tears it brought to her eyes.

"I just asked if you was gonna take care 'o us, and I want the answer loud and clear for the boys."

"Y'Yes," she finally said quietly. She could see the cold cruel glint in his black eyes, and knew that any sigh of resistance right now would only bring further pain and indignities from him. He was the leader of this gang, and could not under any circumstances run the risk of being stood up against in front of them. They worshiped strength and she sensed that if he lost his prestige in this matter with them, that he would lose all. It was again, the old tale of the male lions fighting for leadership of the "pride," and the women that went with it. There was only one law that applied, and that was the law of the jungle, pure and simple.

"That's a good lil' honky chick. We gonna make a good honky outta ya yet, jist to show these boys that the only good honky, ain't a dead one. Ain't that, right."

Duke smiled arrogantly down at her and tweeked her cheek with his thumb and forefinger. Susan nodded her head dejectedly in agreement.

"Awright, Coke, show 'er the kitchen, man. She's gonna have to earn 'er keep here for a few days, in more ways than one. And, make 'er clean it good."

He grabbed her arm and shoved her towards the tall thin negro who had been driving the car, and she let herself be led to the kitchen without a struggle. There was no longer any sense in the hopeless resistance she had put up at first. Her only chance for even staying alive now was to keep close to Duke. She was certain his hard outward approach to her was an act to show the others that he could be cold and cruel, for he seemed to have developed a sense of protectiveness toward her that might keep the others away‹for a little while anyway.

The kitchen was a mess and looked like it had not been used for a long time. The sink was filled to the brim with dirty molding dishes and the dusty shelves were almost bare except for an assortment of rusting cans of beans and soup. Coke inspected the door that led out to the back, making certain the padlock attached to it was still secure so there could be no chance for her to escape.

"Now you do what Duke done said to do and don't try nuthin' that might be crazy. He might git mad and you ain't never seen nobody as wild as him when he's mad."

Susan nodded in assent and limply began her task of cleaning up the mess. The odor from the dishes almost made her sick, but under Coke's watchful gaze, she soon had them soaking in hot water that she had heated on an old wood-burning stove. On a command from Duke in the living room, Coke stepped outside and returned a few minutes later carrying a large box of groceries.

"Duke says you're to git us some supper. And, make it quick," he added with an authority of his own.

"W-What can I fix," she asked with a slight tremble in her voice. It was the first time she had spoken to any of them except when she had been forced to. She could hardly bring herself to do it, but knew she must, or risk facing the wrath of Duke again. She dared not alienate him completely or he might be forced to show his control over her by letting the others take advantage of her as he had done. Susan vowed to herself that she would rather die‹and would do all in her power to avoid being used in that way again.

"Fry them pork chops," Coke answered her question after a few moments thought. "Duke likes 'em."

Susan bent to her task with as much strength as she could gather after the horrible beating her muscles had taken. She was a bit surprised though, that the soreness between her legs was not more acute, considering the ravishment she had undergone. She had done a lot of horseback riding when her father was alive, and perhaps that had loosened her for the final assault that the idiotic Stitch had subjected her to with his fingers.

This was the first time the thought had come to her mind since they left the car. She had been in a complete state of shock since the negroes had first grabbed her, and now even though her consciousness was beginning to clear, she still could not recall all the bitter details of what had happened or why it had happened. She was certain of one thing. She could never forgive her mother again for as long as she lived, for it was her mother who was responsible for her being here at the mercy of this cruel group of criminals.

Why had they used her like this? Sheer lust couldn't be the answer unless they were absolute animals, and the thought was gradually sinking into her mind that perhaps they were. She had not known many negroes, but those she did know were no different than all of her other friends. Why then, this sudden bitter attack on her body, and the use of the name "honky" as a derogatory word toward her? What were they trying to accomplish by all of this brutality?

"Hey man, where's the food," her thoughts were suddenly interrupted by Duke's complaining voice from the living room. "You been out there thirty minutes."

"She's gittin' it. Don't worry none," Coke answered from his chair in the corner where he had been sitting patiently watching Susan at work. Though she hadn't looked at him at all during the entire time she had been working, she knew very well his eyes were glued tightly to her almost entirely visible body beneath the tattered gown she was wearing. It had been ripped and torn in so many places that there was very little material left to cover her completely nude body hiding beneath. While she had been getting the pork chops ready, she concentrated on keeping her arm pinned down to the side of her left breast, so it wouldn't fall out in front of Coke. She knew this would be fatal. They were already all worked up so bad by watching Duke rape her in the back seat of the car, that it wouldn't take much to set them off again.

"You 'bout ready, baby," Coke asked impatiently after watching her turning the pork chops, trying to get them to cook faster.

"Yes, they're ready now," she said limply, after a last look into the frying pan.

"Okay, baby. Where ya want it, Duke?" he yelled loudly through the doorway.

"Here," he answered with a laugh.

"You hear 'im, baby. Go to it, and bring all the forks an' knives."

"All right, but it's going to take a minute," she answered coldly. Not only had their leader ravished her young helpless body until she could hardly walk, but now they were turning her into their servant to wait on them too.

"Here, I'll take 'em," Coke said impatiently and grabbed the stack of dishes she had collected from her hands. "You jist git the food in heah, right now," he commanded.

Susan hurried as fast as she could in the dim light of the kerosene lamp, carrying a plate of pork chops in one hand and a bowl of beans in the other. Coke had placed the plates in their places around the table, and she went from one to the other dishing out their portions. It was the first time she had really had an opportunity to see all of them clearly; now, she could feel a cold harsh chill running quickly up the length of her spine as she studied the four negroes who were holding her prisoner.

Shorty, as his name implied, was slight of height. But not really quite as much as he should have been to justify the nickname. In fact, he was just about Susan's height, five feet five. What he lacked in height, he certainly made up for in build. He was broad and stocky, and as she studied him, she remembered the way he had walked from the car to the cabin. It had reminded her dimly of an ape with his long swinging arms that were out of proportion to the rest of his body. It almost appeared as though he could touch the ground without bending over much farther than his natural stance. His face was thick and his broad flat nose, of the central African type negro, set deeply between his cheeks.

Coke, who had been her guardian in the kitchen, was tall and thin with a slight pencil-type mustache that was currently so popular with negro singers. His eyes stayed blatantly on her as she moved around the table serving the others. There was an innate cold cruelty in them that she couldn't really explain, but she knew he had held it in check out of fear of Duke's rebuttal and she found herself again grateful again for his presence, fearing what would happen to her if he were not there.

Duke was a strong, well-built negro who carried himself with an arrogant confidence befitting his position as gang chief. He had long sensuous hands that she could still remember coursing over her body as he had ravished her in the car. His nails were long and sharp and she still winced slightly each time she moved from the marks he had made on her body while he was stroking her. He, too, had a certain cold aloofness about him that repulsed and frightened her. It was almost as though he possessed nothing what-so-ever in the way of human compassion. There was no doubt of the tremendous strength he possessed; she could still feel the welts from his finger on her hips and upper thighs where he had grasped her when he was pulling himself into her.

Stitch was one of the most repulsive persons she had ever seen. His build was much like Shorty, except that it was completely out of proportion. He had a large oversized head that seemed as though it belonged on a body many times the size of the one he possessed. When he walked, the enlarged head tilted to one side as though he could not support it and the slight limp he had added to the off-balance physical effect. His eyes were small and sunk deep in his head with the typical idiot half-smile always playing across his mouth, even when he was angry or hurt.

She feared him more than all the rest of them. At least the others looked half human and might have some reasoning power left in them, but not Stitch. There would be no reasoning or mercy if she ever came under his power. It was unpredictable what he might do if his natural instincts were unleashed from the accepted human restrictions now placed on him.

She finished filling the plates and stood back a few feet from the table with the dishes still in her hand, watching them eat silently with their thoughts. And, there could be no doubt what these thoughts were about. She could detect each of them in turn staring at her out of the corners of their eyes with hungry animalistic gazes that could mean only one thing.

She kept her eyes on Duke as she cowered back from the table. The firelight now burned brightly, elongating weird silhouettes of his profile across the cabin floor. Out of grim necessity, she had accepted him as protector, and for the first time in her young life began to understand more behind the reasoning of the survival of the human race. A few short hours ago, she had been a sheltered and innocent girl, who believed in all the things she had learned about the inviolability of the virgin female form, and how it would be and should be protected at all costs. Now, she shared a sympathy with all abducted females since time began. The tender young vestal virgins of the Roman Empire who were carried off by the Huns from the north; the pioneer women who were carried off to become the wives of savage Indians; and, the ravaged women of Berlin after World War II. They all, from want of food or protection from greater indignities, had accepted protectors that they would have otherwise been repulsed by. It all became ultimately a matter of what one had to choose from, and not what one wanted to choose. The weakest had to choose the strongest of their group for mere survival sake, providing of course, the strongest wanted them. Duke wanted her now and she had no choice if she were to escape the others. She had to give herself to him or suffer a far worse fate at the hands of the likes of Shorty and Stitch.

It was also apparent that Duke could feel the power he now possessed over the young, naive white girl as he ate with a quiet confidence, never once raising his eyes to look at her like the others. He knew she was there and knew she was his, by virtue of his leadership of the gang. His hold on her was his strength and the protection he offered her.

"Git me some whiskey outta the box," he spoke for the first time since beginning to eat, "and bring four glasses, no, bring five. One for you, too, honky baby."

Susan went to the kitchen without hesitation and brought the bottle back with the glasses and watched silently by his side as he poured a drink out for all of them. He poured hers a little more full than the others and pushed it toward her on the table.

"Drink it down without stopping," he commanded, reveling in demonstrating his power over her to the others.

Susan raised the glass and took a small sip, feeling the hot liquid burning all the way down to her stomach. It made her feel slightly sick until she saw Duke's eyes glued to her out of the corner of her eye, and she tilted the glass up again to take a greater swallow. She almost coughed it up, but with a supreme effort, managed to hold it down. A faint light-headedness swirled through her as she raised the glass again and turned it bottom-up, finishing the warm fluid to the last drop.

"S-S-She d-done it," Stitch said with a gleeful ring to his voice.

"I told her to, didn't I," Duke said proudly. "She's gonna be my chick and I don't wanna see none of you bastards layin' a hand on 'er without my okay."

"Aw com'on now, Duke," Shorty protested. "We gotta right too, we all took her together."

"I got the right, remember the club rules," Duke cut him off. "The Chief Leopard gits first choice on all the spoils o' war."

"She ain't no spoil o' war," Coke remonstrated hesitantly. "We got 'er off the street."

"Man, that's the honky war. You heard what cats like Stokley Carmichael and Rap Brown say; we're at war with them honkies. Why you think we're heah, boy?"

"She ain't no part o' it, Duke," Shorty objected again. Susan could see that they were pushing him for all it was worth, and clenched tightly to the empty glass in her hand as the tension between them grew. She knew that the result of this little play of words could decide her fate for the night and she prayed with all her heart that Duke would be strong enough to hold them off.

"She's a honky, ain't she," Duke answered, 'lemmne show ya what I mean, man."

He rose from his chair and grabbed Susan by the arm, pushing her roughly over to the fireplace. Though it appeared to the others that he was hurting her, she could feel a certain restraint in his movement that almost bordered on gentleness. She understood that he had to be firm in front of the others to maintain his status, and she let herself be carried limply along with him across the room.

"Now you cats take a look and see if you don't think she's a honky."

With that he reached to the back of Susan's tattered gown and ripped it down the hack in one mighty jerk. The flimsy material split without effort and floated uselessly to the floor.

She gasped when she realized what he had done and tried desperately to recover the last remnants of clothing she had left to cover her nude body.

"Leave it there," she heard his voice command from above her. "They ain't never seen a white ass before, baby, an' I jist wanna give 'em a little look at what they been missin'."

Susan hesitated, still crouched on the floor where she kneeled in the vain attempt to cover herself. Her arms were folded tightly over her large firm breasts that swayed down voluptuously from her bending torso, naked and unprotected. Her legs were clamped tightly together in an attempt to hide the blonde silken treasure lying between her thighs. She began to tremble from the sudden obscene exposure of her body to the others in the room.

"Get up, baby," Duke commanded tersely. "Let 'em see what all of a white little honky ass looks like."

Susan froze when she looked across the room and saw the others begin to rise from their chairs and walk with bulging eyes toward her, crouching naked and vulnerable before the fireplace. She looked up at Duke with a pleading cowed look in her eyes, but his gaze remained cold and totally without sympathy. This was his moment to shine in the eyes of his underlings, and he was playing it for all it was worth. He was demonstrating, with a calculated purpose, the power he held over her, and all like her. He was cruelly sure of himself, and Susan felt her body rising involuntarily to a standing position before his hard unyielding stare, unable to resist his command.

The others crowded around her, gaping with unadulterated admiration and desire at the full proud young body being exhibited before them.

"Jesus Christ," Shorty breathed. "Look at them titties. Man, I'd like to git my mouth on them."

Stitch stood immobile, a crazy lustful grin on his face. It was all he could do to keep from reaching forward again and fondle the softness of her with his harsh callused hands as he had done before in the car, but one look at Duke cut him short. He had felt his wrath earlier, and that was enough to keep him restrained for a while.

"You jist ain't got no right to hold us off 'er," Coke gasped as his eyes followed the full, ripe contours of her curved hips to the soft silken down at the juncture of her hips and thighs. "We're all in this 'un together, man."

Duke stood proud and defiant beside her, reveling in the control he held over she and the others. It was the supreme moment of leadership for him, being able to play on and control their passions this way. He was confident and sure of his power, and as he stood there, almost smirking at them, a thoughtful contemptuous smile slowly crossed his lips.

"Hey, you cats really want a chance to get at 'er?"

"Man, that's what we been talkin' about all night long," Shorty answered quickly, his eyes locked greedily on Susan's naked body.

"How much bread ya got between ya?" Duke asked as his eyes narrowed slyly.

"We ain't gonna buy 'er. That ain't right," Coke protested.

"Who said, buy, man. I'm talkin' bout a little poker."

"Y-Y-You always w-w-win," Stitch stuttered out his objection.

"Aw, man, come on, I jist been lucky. You might win it all tonight. Take a look at them fine white titties. How'd ya like to get your hands on 'em?"

Susan shrank back as she heard Duke's words. He was proposing to offer her as prize in a game of chance. He just couldn't mean it! He wasn't going to use her as his stakes in a poker game! She had heard of wives being lost in card games of the old west and on the Mississippi river boats, but it just couldn't happen now. Not with these savage negroes as players.

"P-Please don't," she stammered, speaking her first pleading words to Duke since he had assaulted her in the car. She had never thought she could bring herself to beg like this in such a degrading position, but she had no choice. It was total subjugation to him alone or be used as a helpless plaything by all the others.

"Don't you worry, none, baby. They cain't play them boards like I can. We just gonna git us a little pile heah while we got the chance."

"I-I can't do it," she whimpered, her face pressed tight into her hands.

"You gonna do it, baby, if I tell ya to, and, I'm tellin' ya to. So jist shutup and let me concentrate on the game."

"H-H-How much d-do I n-n-need?" Stitch muttered. Visions of the poor helpless girl rolling and tossing beneath his driving cock fiickered through his mind like a pornographic film.

"Five dollars each. Anybody I lose my five dollars to, gits her for one time, and I git my five dollahs back."

"I-I-I only got t-t-two," Stitch whimpered piteously "G-G- Gemme some c-credit, D-D-Duke, p-please."

"You others got it?" he directed at Shorty and Coke.

"Yeh," they both murmured unhappily in unison.

"We git to do anything we want to with 'er, right," Shorty clarified as Duke led them back to the table.

"Right," Duke laughed confidently. "But ya gotta win 'er first."

"An everybody gets to watch," Coke added, his excitement building at the prospects of getting the young soft white girl beneath him.

"Yeh, heh, you cats can do it all," Duke agreed with a laugh, "and, Stitch, I'm gonna let ya in on it too."

He watched Stitch's face light up for a moment and then added with a teasing glint in his eye, "But all ya git if ya win, is to eat 'er."

"T-T-That ain't f-f-fair," he stuttered back, all enthusiasm dying from his eyes. "B-B-But I'll d-d-do it."

"If you ever git that big ole thing o' yours inside 'er she'd be ruined for life. Man, nobody in town 'ud be able to touch the sides ag'in."

There was no further argument and Duke made Susan clean the table without letting her put her dress back on. It was obvious he was enjoying the covetous glances the others were casting at her naked white body, and wanted to extend his domination over them as far as he could under the opportune circumstances. Susan was forced to stand by Duke and keep the glasses full while the game got under way. She watched each hand with growing consternation and could feel her heart beating faster each time she saw one of the others win.

Duke had made her take another glass of whiskey, and she found herself sipping more heavily from it as the time passed with agonizing slowness. The light headedness she felt from the half- glass Duke had made her drink a short while ago came back again with this additional glass of warm liquid. She needed the courage it gave her to keep from fainting, as she watched her fate being decided by the four negroes sitting at the table in heavy concentration. She could feel her legs wobbling slightly as she lifted the glass more and more frequently to her lips. Duke's luck was becoming worse with each passing hand.

Shorty's smile was broadening as the game continued on. He was gradually whittling more and more of the leader's money away in spite of the fact that he was breaking even, or winning slightly from the other two.

After about a half an hour of intense play, there was a loud moan from Stitch's side of the table. He was out. He rose, throwing his cards with a disappointed flourish to the table, and slumped dejectedly in a chair in the comer of the room.

Susan's heart rose at this turn of events. At least, she 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."