Chapter Tweenty-Two

Jeremiah let the young woman sob for a few minutes. Experience had told him that it was best to let the white bitches have their hysterics. Jeremiah had processed many white women through this small concrete hut. Stoner was right, Jeremiah hated the white man, the Europeans and Americans who seemed to own everything. But Jeremiah prized the white women, their skin so pale, a delight to touch and feel against his palms as he ran his hands across their breasts, along their thighs, and touched their secret places. They marked so well too. The red stripes from the whip or the black and blue from the cane, contrasted sharply with their wan skin. And black women, at least the natives who were used to pain and toil and trouble, did not scream so delightfully when he inflicted pain on them at the Master’s command or for his own enjoyment.

Jeremiah actually was often conflicted in his feelings for the white female prisoners of the Master. He hated white women as he hated all whites. Yet, he reveled in the feel of their bodies, liked to watch their faces as he manipulated them to climax, feel the contractions of their cunts around his cock as he forced them to pleasure. For the Master gave Jeremiah free reign with his bitches when he was away, and that was often.

And so Jeremiah ran his hard, bony hands down Cheryl’s thighs. He nudged them open so that the plugged rear opening and the beginnings of Cheryl’s cunt lips could be seen. Jeremiah was tempted to squeeze those tender lips until the white girl moaned in pain. He was anxious to feel her reactions and begin to build the fear of him in her on which his, and therefore the Master’s, control of the bitches depended. He would get to know this bitch well. And tonight, well, that would be a special pleasure.

Redirecting himself to the task immediately ahead, Jeremiah released Cheryl’s hands and arms from the black sheath that had pinioned them since the Turk had wrapped them up so cruelly. Again, slowly, Jeremiah separated the arms and pulled them first down to Cheryl sides and then out, finally bringing them to rest above her head. The mask and gag were left in place while Jeremiah began to slowly and efficiently massage Cheryl’s tortured body. She could feel the frightening strength of the hands that kneaded her muscles. The hands poked and prodded, finding the right places. It was heaven compared to the box, and Cheryl prayed that she would not be returned there. She did not know where she was or what was to happen to her, but she knew that she was experiencing pleasure for the first time since her horrible kidnapping.

When convinced that the bitch could stand and walk, Jeremiah ceased his ministrations and pulled the woman to a sitting position. He then nudged her off of the table and onto her feet. Cheryl’s hands were free and they grasped the arms of her liberator as she gently placed weight on her feet. She could feel the strong, sinewy muscles of his arms as they held her. His flesh was warm and a strange comfort.

At first, Cheryl’s knees buckled as she stepped down from the table, but with the help of this monster of a man beside her, she straightened out and stood up, exhilarated to feel her body free from confinements.

She was led to a small shower stall in the corner of the room. Jeremiah forced her to squat over a round, low pan and then tugged free the plug that had kept Cheryl’s wastes from soiling her cargo container. Cheryl felt a nozzle press against her anal opening and guessed that she was about to receive an enema. She was right, as warm water flowed into her intestines. Cheryl knew that her intestines were packed even though she had consumed almost no solid food for a long time. She had felt the cramps in her stomach and belly and was actually grateful for this unconsented to, but utilitarian, invasion of her ass. Cheryl was too relieved to be embarrassed.

Jeremiah, after flooding Cheryl’s intestines two more times and ensuring that her bowels were truly empty, led Cheryl to anther stall nearby containing a shower and a drain. He turned the water on. The water never really got cold even though pumped from a deep well. The heat of the tropical day baked the water as it stood in the pipes. The hut was not air-conditioned and Cheryl had already felt the weight of the hot muggy air.

Cheryl heard the shower turned on and the flow of water to the floor. Hands tugged at the mask she wore and it was released. Cheryl blinked, blinded even by the soft light of the bunker. Slowly, her eyes focused. She turned her head to look at the face of her liberator, but Jeremiah placed his hands on the sides of her head and forced her to look forwards. He didn’t have to speak. Cheryl understood what was required by the firmness of the hands that held her head between them like a melon that could be squashed.

Big, strong, black hands pulled the gag from between her lips and eased out the ring of leather that had facilitated Stoner’s rape of her mouth. Again sadness but also joy overcame Cheryl. She was free of all of her bonds at last. Even standing here naked before an unknown black man, obviously at his mercy, was not enough to dampen her delight at being able to close her mouth, to feel it free of its invader, to be able to see.

Jeremiah now pushed Cheryl forward into the shower. It ran down over her head, down to her shoulders, her torso, and down her legs. The tepidness of the water was soothing and Cheryl quickly fell into a reverie. As it flowed over her she could almost imagine standing in her shower back in New York, after a good workout.

She was startled by the hand that placed itself on her right shoulder, tempted to look behind to see the face of this mysterious force that was controlling her. Her instincts told her better though, and she remained staring at the far wall of the shower. She then felt a sponge running across her back and a soapy wetness behind.

Jeremiah scrubbed Cheryl’s back thoroughly with the sponge. It was important that the girl’s skin be fresh and sensitive for what would come later. Jeremiah descended Cheryl’s back and then her thighs and legs. He lingered at the crack of Cheryl’s ass, causing Cheryl to give a little yelp as he ran the sponge across her sphincter.

Jeremiah had shed his robes and stood in the shower naked behind the young woman. He was excited and his thick black prick was hardening with every contact of his hands or body with Cheryl’s skin. Cheryl felt Jeremiah’s nakedness as he stepped closer to her to soap her stomach and breasts from behind. His long, sinewy black left arm encircled Cheryl’s throat as his right wielded the sponge. Cheryl could feel Jeremiah’s now quick breath in her ear and feel the press of his now fully hardened cock against the crack of her ass.