Chapter 4

"Ugghhhhh!" gasped Jennifer Love Hewitt as another bucket of ice-cold water was hurled at her naked body.

"It's freakin' freezing!" shrieked Debbie Freeman, the blonde woman next to her.

Like Jennifer, Debbie was also naked. Though her body borne witness to the repeated gang-banging she'd just endured.

"Stop whining, bitches!" sneered Renard as the big black waited impatiently for another bucket to be filled, "I can see how hard your titties are getting. This is making you hot, ain't dat right?"

"Tis certainly making me hot!" yelled one of the men next to Renard.

Surrounding the women's chief tormentor was about a dozen other Negroes, all enjoying the show. Most had their hands down the front of their pants. A couple weren't even wearing pants, so it was obvious what they were doing.

With a growing feeling of uneasiness in the pit of her stomach Jennifer noticed that all the men were focusing their lustful attention on her. The reason was obvious. They had all participated in the rape of Debbie and saw Jennifer as the sequel.

"Here, little Missy Hollywood!" laughed one of the men as he threw a bar of soap at Jennifer.

She reached for it, but the inherent slippiness caused it to squirt out of her hands. Instinctively she bent down to pick it up.

"Man! Look at those bags o' milk!"

"This is sick!" announced Jennifer, shaking with indignation and not a little fear, "This is just some depraved titillation for you all!"

"Yo is providing the tit an' we is providing the elation!" retorted some wag, drawing huge back slaps of appreciation for his wit.

"Show's over!" barked Jennifer with determination, crossing her arms.

"This show is over when I say it is," said Renard with menace.

He met Jennifer's eyes with a mean stare.

"You keep washing," he continued, "Or you get over there, lie on your back an' the show gets a little audience participation."

He jerked his thumb over to the table where Debbie had been held down and abused for so long.

Jennifer glanced over to the table, blinked and retrieved the soap. She turned her back to the men and started lathering her juicy ass. Her hand was shaking as the soapy water caressed her butt cheek.

"Turn around!" barked Renard, "Wash those tits!"

Jennifer did as she was ordered. Her hands cupped her bounteous breasts and rubbed them together.

"Kiss 'em!" shrieked a male voice.

Jennifer paused, then squeezed her boobs together. As the flesh bulged upwards she planted a kiss. Then licked.

She felt like a whore. But parading like a whore was better than the alternative.

Her hands reached down as she half-turned. Gently she squeezed her butt cheek. As she did so she gave a little wiggle. Could she use her body to entice the men some how? To make them sympathise with her?

"Uhhhhhhh!" she gasped in pain as yet another cascade of water slammed into her.

"That's it, slut!" said Renard with relish, "you're just a piece of white trash, ain't ya?"

He gestured to one of his cohorts for more water.

"You fuckin' slut! You're gonna get it good!"

Water sports went on much longer than Jennifer and Debbie were comfortable with. Finally Renard tired of the torment and chucked dirty towels are the quivering pieces of woman-flesh before him.

He had sent another man away for a moment and this fellow now returned carrying a long piece of chain. Renard took it and revealed a leather collar at the end. Grinning he approached the white women.

"Years ago," he started, "In the times of the French colonials, slaves were sold near here. Black men just like me were chained an' put on display for white men at an auction. It is said that some of those men brought their daughters and that those daughters were invited to check out the manhoods of the Negroes for sale. Those who impressed were purchased and used as studs on the plantations."

He turned the links of the chain over his hands as he talked.

"How the times have changed!" he finished, brightly.

He then unfastened the collar and reached it out to Debbie's neck. The blonde flinched back, until a growl from Renard made her stop. She let him affix the collar round her neck.

"Please!" she whimpered, any trace of previous feistiness raped out of her, "I'm not an animal!"

In response Renard roughly grabbed her chin and bored into her eyes.

"No!" he roared, "You are lower than an animal! You are meat!"

"Put that away!" he barked, indicating Jennifer, "We'll play with those tits later."

Jennifer was seized by her bare arms and dragged over to the box she'd been in earlier. Unceremoniously she was shoved inside.

"Git outside!" said Renard to his goons, "Get things ready."

After the men had left he twisted Debbie round and stamped towards the back of her knee. Down she went. Using the chain Renard was able to turn his blonde captive round so her head was level with his groin.

"C'mon, you bitch," Jennifer heard him chide, "You know what to do when a black man sticks his dick up against yo mouth."

In her box Jennifer sighed and turned away.

She woke with a start. How long had it been since she had drifted off to sleep?

She looked out into the interior of the room.

There was Debbie. With Renard. They seemed to be waiting at the door. Peering closer Jennifer could see that outside darkness had fallen. What light that could be seen in the open flickered in a strange manner. There was a strange noise - a dull bass beat. Hot, smoky air seemed to forming.

The door to the outside opened. The smoky air entered the room. Jennifer couldn't see what Debbie could, but she saw the reaction. Debbie was paralysed with fear. Frantically she was shaking her head. Then she was yanked outside by something pulling on her chain and was gone.

Renard sniffed, looked about, then his eyes met those of the brunette in the box.

"Get her out," he smiled.

The top of the box was flung open and Jennifer gasped as several powerful dark arms reached down towards her. Accompanied by more chortling than was necessary Jennifer was grabbed and hauled upwards and out. Several men shoved her towards the grinning Renard. He had shut the door after the departure of Debbie and now moved behind Jennifer and pushed her up towards a window. It was shuttered closed but thru a crack Jennifer could see outside.

At first she couldn't take in the scene outside. Then she saw there was a crowd of around a hundred blacks, both male and female, illuminated by several large torches. The crowd were gathered around a raised stage, also lit by several, larger, torches.

The throng parted as the naked Debbie was dragged thru them. Her hands were tied behind her back and she was straining at the collar round her neck. The man leading her was giggling away as he first yanked her hard, then ran, then suddenly stopped. Several times Debbie lost her balance and fell – to be kicked to her feet by those around her.

For a moment Debbie was lost to sight as the mob crowded around her, then her blonde head reappeared as she was hustled up some steps to the stage.

The crowd become hushed as another figure approached from the rear. Jennifer recognised him as Touissant, wearing a top hat and big overcoat.

He towered over the shaking blonde and flung off his coat to reveal his naked torso, muscular and covered with white painted markings. At his behest Debbie was kicked to her knees.

Touissant turned to the crowd and started talking, his deep voice holding the assembled throng in a religious-like rapture. He spoke in French. Jennifer knew a little of the Gallic tongue by Touissant's Caribbean accent was so strong she couldn't understand what he was saying.

"Allow me to translate," breathed Renard into her ear, "He's telling folks that they have been punished by turning their blacks on the old gods. They have embraced Christianity and gone to church like good little niggers. But dem old gods are powerful dudes. They sent Haiti crime, corruption and all sorts of shitty-life stuff. The quake was a final warning; turn back to the voodoo faith of their ancestors an' be part of a Haitian revival or perish!"

At this point the crowd were nodding in vigorous agreement.

Jennifer heard a zipper getting pulled down. Renard's falling pants brushed past the back of her bare legs. Her heart-rate rose.

Touissant was haranguing again. Tightening his grip on Jennifer's wrist Renard continued to translate. Touissant was pointing at the kneeling Debbie.

"The Boss is now pointing out an example of the Christian West, how it is cheap an' lustful an' shit."

Poor Debbie was harshly slapped.

"She is controlled by her lust for sex, he says. Let her show her sinful ways!"