Chapter Tweenty-Three

Cheryl shuddered as her feeling of total vulnerability returned. As the water ran over the two now entwined bodies, Jeremiah pushed Cheryl’s thighs apart with the hand that held the sponge and pressed it firmly against Cheryl’s mons. Cheryl whimpered slightly as her sex was manhandled. This was the third man since her capture to fondle or abuse her, for the black man who pressed his body into hers was clearly intent on more than washing her pussy. His intentions became even more obvious when the sponge dropped to the shower floor. It did not take long for the hand to drive Cheryl to wetness and cause the vagina’s lips to part. Cheryl fought back the feelings of pleasure and desire that soon flooded her as the obviously expert hand massaged and stroked her cunt and the bud at its apex.

The arm encircling Cheryl’s throat tightened when Cheryl raised one hand to protest, and tried with the other to pull the offending, coal black hand from between her thighs. Cheryl got the message and dropped her hands to her sides in resignation.

Jeremiah stood at least a foot taller than Cheryl who was no slouch at 5’6.” So Jeremiah’s balls rested at the top of Cheryl’s posterior while his cock was pressed against her back. Cheryl felt it like a weapon held against her spine and wondered when she would be wounded by it.

But this was not Jeremiah’s intention, at least not now. This was more of academic exercise, to measure Cheryl’s responsiveness, her pliability. Jeremiah’s left arm now released Cheryl’s neck and his hand seized her right breast. His arm crushed Cheryl’s left breast against her body. Jeremiah’s hand encircled his prize and squeezed softly. Cheryl moaned as she finally gave in to the sensual assault. She now spread her thighs willingly, wanting the hand to bring her to climax. She pressed her back against her assailant, reached behind her to feel the back of his thighs.

Jeremiah was pleased. This girl had passion. The Master would be entertained. And so would he when he had access to her. And her creamy thighs and open mouth would be barter for the favors and “gifts’ that he received regularly from the Master’s minions. Although there were few who could afford them, the Master’s white sluts were in great demand.

He could feel Cheryl now mounting to her climax. Her breath was now coming heavily and the moans from the back of her throat louder and more insistent. Her hands gripped the back of his thighs tightly as Cheryl felt herself tottering on the edge of an abyss. Casting all dignity and resistance aside, she finally achieved release.

The woman’s body jerked against his as she came wildly. Jeremiah’s right hand, buried in her cunt was remorseless in its insistence. Anticipating Cheryl’s resistance to the continued plundering of her sex, Jeremiah adroitly captured Cheryl’s arms with his thighs and held them pressed against her legs and ass. He let the first wave of pleasure subside and then pressed on. Cheryl’s moans now became cries as she was pushed again past the wall that confined her pleasure.

After the third climax, Jeremiah let his hand slow to a gentle rubbing of the white woman’s sex. She would cool down now, her body relaxed, her mind swimming in a different place. He allowed Cheryl to slump in his arms and lowered her to her knees. He pushed her body forwards and Cheryl caught her fall with her hands. As the water continued to pour down from above, Jeremiah completed his ablutions of Cheryl by soaping and rinsing her hair.

Cheryl’s heart was pounding still. She barely felt the hands massaging her scalp. She did not care what he did. She was his prisoner.

When the shower was finally over, Cheryl was led back to the cushioned table in the center of the room. Jeremiah held her neck from behind as he led her from the shower. His manhood was now flaccid, having exploded its seed over Cheryl’ back. Cheryl, absorbed as she was in her own passionate delirium, did not notice when the hot liquid poured over her back, or the tensing of Jeremiah’s body as he reached his climax.

Jeremiah pushed Cheryl’s torso down on the table and pressed her face down and to the right. He quickly toweled her body. He stood her up again and toweled her hair, also brushing the hair straight, releasing all the knots and tangles. Cheryl patiently let this man administer to her. She let him gather her hair behind her head in a pony tail and felt him tie it tight with something. When he stepped away for a moment, she did not move, but resignedly kept her place.

The tall black manservant returned with his robes restored and two lengths of leather strips in his right hand. In his left he held a black cotton blindfold and a primitive gag. He guided Cheryl’s body back down to the table, bending her at the waist. He then gathered her arms behind her and quickly and expertly bound her wrists.

Cheryl was jolted from her dream-like state by this development. Too late to pull her hands away, Cheryl tried to lift her body from the table. The man’s firm left arm held her down. Cheryl, now spoke for the first time in days, words now flowing out from her as from a burst dam.

“Please, oh please, don’t do this. Please let me go. I haven’t hurt anyone, please don’t tie me up, please don’t hurt me.” Cheryl’s voice was desperate. The man’s response was to press his body into hers, forcing her back down against he table. He pulled her head back as Cheryl tried to plead, to beg for release. As her mouth opened to protest, he jammed the gag home.

It was simple and primitive, but effective. It consisted of a leather encased stick, about five or six inches long and three inches around. Leather thongs had been pulled and knotted through holes at each end. Placed lengthways against the mouth, it jammed the teeth apart and caused the mouth to grimace. Sounds, but not words could escape the mouth as the depressed tongue could not form them.

Cheryl felt the leather-bound stick jammed across her mouth, spreading her lips backwards. Her teeth were pried apart and her tongue pinned to the floor of her mouth. She felt the ends of the thongs tied about the rear of her head.

Jeremiah then placed the blindfold over Cheryl’s eyes, darkening her vision. Once again, she was a helpless prisoner. The momentary tranquility she had felt from the shower and the passionate, if imposed, orgasms fell away as the terror of her situation came back in a flash. She recalled the vision of the leering face of the man on the plane. His face had been deformed by hate as he scowled at her. His words came back to her too. “Fun,” he had said. He was going to have fun with her.