Chapter Tweenty-Six

Stoner landed four more blows straight on to Cheryl’s pussy. He waited until the shock and the wave of intense pain subsided before delivering each one. At the last blow, Cheryl was begging and pleading for mercy.

For two hours Cheryl’s body was tormented by the lash. Dangling like some weird marionette, she was twisted and turned so that every inch of her body had been exposed to blows. Midway, after delivering ten strong, slashing blows to Cheryl’s ass, Stoner took a break. Cheryl’s ass was prominently displayed. She was bent over, her ankles fixed to the bottom of the rings on one side, her wrists on the other. A small, padded stanchion supported her stomach. Her body was dripping with sweat and was raw with welts from the lash. She was sobbing, trying to catch her breath.

Stoner stepped up between her legs and stroked her cunt. Cheryl tried to wriggle her hips in protest, but Stoner slapped her ass hard and yelled, “Stay still, bitch!” The last thing Cheryl wanted was to give this cruel, sadistic man another reason to beat her, so she stopped her movement and resigned herself to the manual abuse of her sex by this monster.

She was surprised how easy it was for Stoner to manipulate her into wetness. She had no reason, other than the avoidance of pain, to want to accommodate Stoner’s desires, but she really had no choice, her body was acting for her. And it was better to have her cunt juices flowing than to have Stoner dry fuck her.

He was randy now and decided it was time that he sampled a little more of his new slave’s body. He had stripped off his shirt during the beating of Cheryl and was left dressed in khaki work shorts and work boots. He quickly removed the rest of his clothing. Jeremiah stood, saying nothing. He too would sample these wares, but later. Now, he existed only to help facilitate his master’s pleasure.

Stoner’s cock was steel hard as he approached the girl. He stepped between her legs and, grabbing her hips, slid his cock home into her now well-lubricated sheath. Cheryl had known she would be raped, but the reality of it was overwhelming. More than this vile man’s power to beat her, more than his need to humiliate and insult her, this power that he had assumed to invade and use her body at will, struck her to her very core. She could feel his hot, hard prick sawing at her cunt. Desperately, she shook and squirmed, but the rings held her tight, poised for fucking. She cursed herself as she felt the warmth spread inside her cunt. “No, no, no,” she cried.

Stoner, misinterpreting the girl’s exclamations, struck her raw ass with his open hand. “You’ll take my cock and like it, bitch!” He pounded her relentlessly, his passion rising. When he came, he groaned loudly, bending at the knees. Cheryl had not reached her peak. Her body desired completion and she gasped when Stoner pulled his cock from her pussy. Stoner, oblivious to Cheryl’s stoked desire, stumbled over to a small table where he had placed his refreshments. He took a long pull at his beer and sighed, temporarily sated.

Stoner did not perceive the passion that had been sparked in Cheryl by her forced coupling, but Jeremiah did. “These white men are so stupid,” he thought. The way to truly bind her was to fuel that unwanted, even repulsive, desire. Even a slave’s passion should be at the mercy of her master. “Later,” he thought. “Later.”

Having rejuvenated himself, Stoner was eager to continue the torture of the helpless female. “Flip her around,” he said to Jeremiah. “I want to whip her tits.”

Cheryl had hoped that her session of torture was over. Her hopes were dashed as she was readjusted in the rings so that she was arched backwards, her wrists behind her. Her body was configured in a “C”, her head leaning back, her breasts flat on her chest, pointing to the ceiling. She lost control of herself as she contemplated the abuse to her precious mounds.

“Oh, God,” she yelled. “Please, please don’t whip me there. Oh, God. Please, please, please!”

Rather than be dissuaded from his assault, Stoner was energized. Bent as she was, her head tilted slightly downwards, Cheryl could see Stoner arm himself with the quirt. “Oh, please don’t whip my breasts, please! I couldn’t bear it! I’ll do anything you want. Oh, mister, I beg you please don’t!”

This was music to Stoner’s ears. Yes, she would do anything he wanted. And now he wanted her to suffer a tit whipping. And so she would.

Cheryl watched with dismay as she saw Stoner’s hand rise. She closed her eyes and clenched her teeth. “Crack!” The whip exploded onto her right breast.

“Ahhhhhhhhhhhhhh!” Cheryl screamed.

He struck again, this time the left breast.

“Ahhhhhhhhhhhhh!” Cheryl screamed again.

Whatever had been left of the self confident, independent, young woman who had come home from work a few short days ago, was now lost. Cheryl’s personality underwent a complete collapse. She was now nothing more than a bulk of abused flesh. Stoner was her master. She would do anything that he said. As the whip descended again and again, Cheryl screamed and begged for surcease. Lines of red welts rose along the delicate curves of her breasts. Her nipples were afire as the lash tormented them.

When the tit whipping was over, even Stoner had had enough. He had abused Cheryl unmercifully for more than two hours. Even the soles of her feet had been riven with welts. She lay sobbing, her body in a forlorn crescent.

“Clean her up, fuck her if you want, but the asshole is mine,” Stoner said to Jeremiah. He didn’t mind sharing his female meat with Jeremiah. It was a small price to pay for his skill in controlling and regulating these bitches. It also humored him to think of these cunts being stuffed with black meat. He knew that Jeremiah sometimes peddled their asses to the officers of his little strike force. He didn’t mind, as long as they didn’t damage the goods. Besides, anything that added to these bitches’ humiliation was fine by him. They were all ultimately destined to serve in a whorehouse in the capital anyway.