Chapter 29

" ... up, Dani. Wake up, baby."

I blinked in the darkness and realized Mr. Davis was talking to me, stroking my shoulder to rouse me. We were parked at a motel and it was still night and I felt so tired. My mouth was dry and I let him pull me slowly from the car, putting his arm around my waist as he unlocked the door to our room, which I was slow to realize was actually a little cabin.

"Mmmm..." I laughed weakly. "The love shack."

"Here, get into bed," Mr. Davis told me. "It's late."

He didn't have to tell me twice and climbed under the cool sheets, closed my eyes, and didn't wake up until I felt something warm and hard pressing against my ass. It was morning, I thought. There was sunshine trying to get past the drawn curtains, ugly drapes in burgundy to clash with the yellow wallpaper. Mr. Davis was spooning with me, his chest against my back as we lay on our left sides, his knees bent behind mine and his cock swollen in his boxers. He was still sleeping and I was still wearing my shorts, but I felt them tight and uncomfortable and then realized I had my own erection, which was normal. I needed to pee, but not terribly, and I felt the soreness in my thighs as well. The man had spanked me hard with his belt and I could still feel it, just a little. I could feel his semen in my ass too, a greasy sensation best not described, and I really needed a bath.

I'd liked it too, I had to admit as I lay there. I still liked it. I'd had a Master again, just for that short time, while he beat me and then immediately after, when Mr. Davis had fucked me. I'd been a slave again. I had to examine myself and my feelings carefully, and honestly too. I was having a moment of clarity, I thought, and it frightened me, but I was thinking it through. I liked what Mr. Davis had done. As much as I liked the way Mr. Reiser spoiled me, I liked the way my old math teacher had punished me. It was what I'd deserved and needed and he'd whored me out as well. A Master could do that with his slave, if he wanted, and a negra had to do it. I'd had to do it. And inside me, in my heart and maybe even in my soul, I'd liked it. Not the strange men using me so much, but my Master commanding me, that's what had gotten me excited.

If Mr. Davis was like that all the time, I realized, I probably wouldn't want to go back to Mr. Reiser. Well, I would want to go back, I always would because I loved my old Master, but I wouldn't fight it so much, would I? They were both white men and it was their business, not mine. I was property, stolen property now, but it still didn't mean I had a say in what Mr. Davis did with me. Except he kept telling me I was going to be free and he loved me, sso it should have been partly up to me too.

I was confused by those thoughts. It was where my understanding got fuzzy and lost and I sighed softly, not knowing what I was thinking then. I loved Mr. Reiser. He'd treated me like a woman, like a wife really, not a slave at all. Did I resent that generosity? I'd never thought so, but how could I tell? The world had turned and me with it, but I'd gotten lost along the way. I wanted to go back home and not have to think about things. It wasn't fair.

It felt like there was something missing when I remembered my old Master. I'd been with him nearly two years and the man hadn't punished me once, not physically anyway. He'd teased me emotionally. He'd let Mercy take the razor strop to me once in awhile, but he hadn't laid a finger on me except gently, except to love me. Mr. Davis loved me too, I knew that, but in a much more selfish way. He loved me as a man loves a possession, not another person, and for all his talk about setting me free and being my husband, Mr. Davis was always going to be a white man. I was always going to be black.

He'd try to pretend otherwise though. I could see it clearly and neither of us would be happy with that charade. It wasn't his stealing me I objected to, it was his confusion. The way he was lying to himself and to me. It was like how he was queer for my girl cock, but he couldn't admit it, not until the need was raging all through him. The same thing with being my Master. He wouldn't allow himself to own me except when I pushed him, when I made him angry enough to remember who we really were and he could forget his romantic notions for a little bit. I'd never be happy with a man like that.

"Winslow Sheriff's Department," a woman's voice said through the phone.

I was standing in the office of the Starshine Motel just a few miles outside the town of Winslow, Arizona. A pimply faced white boy, maybe eighteen years old, was leaning on his counter and looking me up and down with undisguised interest. I hadn't changed my clothes, or even brushed my hair. I'd just snuck out of bed and used the toilet, washed my face and brushed my teeth, and slipped out of the cabin. I was wearing my tight white t-shirt, my pink short shorts and some lace bikini panties underneath, soiled with Mr. Davis' sperm. A pair of leather sandals still stiff with newness were on my feet and my purse was over my shoulder. I had some makeup, a couple condoms, and my hairbrush in it. I had a thin wallet with some stuff in it, like my driver's license, some pictures of my parents and me, and about thirteen dollars. That was everything I owned.

"I want to report a stolen negra," I said softly and my heart was beating fast, because I didn't know what was going to happen now.

"Someone stole your negra?"

"What? No," I rolled my eyes into the phone. "I'm a stolen negra. My math teacher took me."

"Your math teacher?" The woman sounded like she was going to laugh.

"You better hurry," I said seriously. "Before he wakes up."

"Okay," she sighed. "Where are you?"

It took about fifteen minutes for a brown and white sheriff's car to show up and there was another one about a minute behind, coming from the other direction. I was busy by then, answering questions for a big white man in a brown uniform, tall and heavyset with a big belly. His name was M. Bluett according to his nametag and he'd come by himself, but there were two deputies in the other car. They were younger men and a little more fit, standing close by while the first officer questioned me. I tried to ignore their obvious interest as they kept a close eye on me and I had no idea where Winslow was, but I guessed they didn't have a lot of pretty negras running around.

" ... and your legal owner is a man named Reiser? How do you spell that?" The fat deputy was writing it all down while we sat on the cheap furniture in the lobby. "Bobby, Kyle, you boys go roust this Mr. uh..." he looked at his notepad, " ... Mr. Davis character, see what he's got to say about all this."

They didn't have a scanner either apparently, so Deputy Bluett, was asking the sorts of things that a computer would have told him in about two seconds. He wasn't asking me if I was a girl or not though. He figured he knew that already and I didn't correct his assumption.

" ... Stole you after school, huh? He's a teacher? Okay ... Memphis, Tennessee, right, I got that..." the deputy was nodding and making me repeat myself.

It didn't take all that long, not like it seemed at the time, before Deputy Bluett was leading me out to his police cruiser. I was getting into the backseat when I saw Mr. Davis standing outside the cabin he'd rented, wearing just a pair of pants now, and talking with the other two deputies. He looked at me across a dozen yards of gravel in that hot Arizona sun and he didn't look very happy at all, not angry either, but just sad. It made me feel bad for him, since he was going to be in a lot of trouble now, but that was his own fault. Mr. Davis shouldn't have stolen something that didn't belong to him, not even for love.

The town of Winslow wasn't overly large and the Sheriff's Department was a newer looking building, made of white bricks and dark glass windows in the front. There was a Confederate flag blowing high up on a flag pole outside and what I guessed was the state flag right next to it and a little lower. A few people were coming in and out and they gave me some looks, white people of course, and I hadn't seen too many black faces at all. Arizona wasn't a big slave owning state anyway, except maybe down in Phoenix or something, where there were factories and such where a nigger could be put to good use. A small town like Winslow probably didn't have but a couple house niggers, maybe one or two freeborn families, but I doubted it. I was probably pretty much alone in that place.

There was a black girl inside though, a secretary it looked like, smallish and quiet, typing at a neatly arranged desk and she blinked at me, but that was all. A deputy was behind the front counter, a white woman about thirty years old maybe and talking on the phone. She'd been the one I'd talked to on the telephone, I imagined. Behind her, aside from the mousy black girl, there was an older man coming, tall and thin. He was dressed like the deputies in brown, but he had a bigger badge and looked like he was in charge. He had that feeling about him and he was staring at me hard enough, so I swallowed thickly and dropped my eyes quick.

"That the runaway negra?" he asked, pulling open a swinging gate, like half a door next to the counter and the deputy was guiding me through it.

"Yes sir," Deputy Bluett nodded.

"I didn't run away, sir," I said, blinking at the sheriff. "I was stolen."

"Shut-up." The tall man frowned at me. "Prisoners don't talk unless I ask 'em a question. Did you search her?"

"Uh, not yet, Sheriff," the deputy admitted.

"Shit. Put her in the holding cell and strip her down," the sheriff ordered and I jerked a little at that. "You oughta know better than that, Mike."

"Well, she didn't look like she could be hiding much anyway," the fat deputy grinned. "Come on, this way. Let's see what you're hiding."

He gave me a little push and I didn't like this. I wasn't a runaway slave for one thing, I was stolen property. I hadn't expected to be locked up in a cell, or strip searched neither, but that was what they were intending to do apparently. I thought they'd just scan my arm, call the police in Memphis maybe, or even Mr. Reiser and give my Master the good news that I'd been found. They'd send me back home and everything would go back to being like it was. I wasn't getting good feelings though, not from the looks that sheriff was giving me, nor his fat deputy.

"Up against the wall, right there ... Hands flat ... Spread your legs..."

Deputy Bluett was pushing and pulling at me in the small holding cell. There wasn't anything in it but cinderblock walls painted ugly yellow and they were cold under my fingers. He was frisking me first and then I understood that he'd undress me later. I felt my heart thumping because so far as he knew, I was just a very pretty negra with nothing but a sexy hole between my long brown legs.

"Let's see now..." he sighed almost happily as I felt his chubby fingers in my hair, digging through it like I might be hiding something there.

He moved down to my shoulders and Deputy Bluett's hands moved slowly along my ribs and down my sides. I was holding my breath and despite my fear, I felt myself excited too, I had to admit, because this had long been a scene inside my head. One of those confused dreams that was both a pleasure to imagine and terribly intimidating. Being held at a police station and subject to all the bad things I'd ever imagined could happen there. It was one of the guilty fantasies we all have and never admit to. Like a woman wanting to be raped, and she never wants it to happen, not really, she just likes to think about it from time to time.

This was happening though. This was the reality of it and I closed my eyes tightly as I felt the deputy's big hands move around to my taut belly, feeling my body through that thin cotton shirt I was wearing. He lifted his hands slowly, as if he was teasing the both of us, and I gasped as I felt him on my breasts. Deputy Bluett took both of them in his hands, standing close behind me now with his big belly rubbing against my pushed out ass. He was breathing heavily, squeezing my tits and playing with them. He wasn't looking for anything, he was just getting a real good feel and I felt my nipples harden beneath his palms, and my girl cock was throbbing in my shorts.

There was nothing about the man I found attractive, nothing but his uniform and his authority. That was what I found myself responding to and the fact that Deputy Bluett was big and fat and not attractive to me at all was making it better in some strange way. I wouldn't give a man like that the time of day, not unless my owner forced me to. I wouldn't even notice him otherwise. He had my attention now though. That man was doing whatever he wanted with me and I had to let him. I shivered with that fear and excitement, the conflicting emotions that filled my tummy with butterflies and I kept my eyes closed, my mouth too, keeping the soft moans inside me while Mike squeezed my tits harder.

"Goddamn, you're one fine negra," he breathed. "I'm gonna have a piece of you later. Yes, I am."

"Ummm..." I winced and bit my bottom lip, trying not to wriggle my ass against the obscene pleasure of being sexually molested.

After two or three minutes of playing with my breasts he moved his hands down again, pulling me back against him as he kept one hand on my stomach and the other slid lower to my shorts. The deputy pressed his hand over the snap and down the zipper and I was hard by then, very hard, and my girl cock was pressed down in my panties almost painfully. The head of my penis was nestled between my thighs. He went a few more inches and he felt it, although he wasn't exactly sure right off what it was. There was a lump in my shorts though, something firm and oblong and trapped beneath the pink denim.

"Ohhh ... What have we got down here?" Deputy Bluett chuckled. "Hiding your owner's stash?"

"N-No sir," I answered, taking a deep breath and shaking my head slightly.

"Some drugs, I bet, huh?" He brought his left hand down then, unsnapping my shorts and unzipping them slowly. "You're going to be in real trouble now."

"I ... I don't have any ... Uhhh..." I started saying, stiffening with fear as I knew the moment of truth was upon us.

I felt his fingers sliding inside the waistband of my panties and then his fingertips brushed my swollen girl cock, lightly at first, and he recoiled with some confusion before shoving his hand all the way inside my panties and suddenly finding a fistful of small, hard penis.

"What the fuck?" The deputy pulled his hand out of my panties like he'd been burned, letting me go completely and stepping back.