Unknown - The master_s revenge

Bernard Cornfield could tell that his cock was getting a little bit longer, a little bit thicker, and a little bit harder with each beat of his hard.

The white master could feel the ache in his balls getting worse rapidly too. His testicles felt as if they had swollen to twice their normal size by that time.

His dick felt like it was going to come bursting right out of the crotch of his increasingly tight trousers.

He could feel his thick jism swimming around his swollen glands of manhood inside his scrotal sack impatiently.

The little girl lifted her dress up over her head. Her head got caught inside for a moment but then tugged free. She was barefoot and naked beneath her burlap dress. She stood before her brand new master every bit as naked as the day she was born.

"Precious. Very precious," Bernard Cornfield said. He liked his nigger poontang on the diminutive side – and Tammy sure did fit the bill. She looked even younger than she was – and that was just fine with the white man. His motto had always been the younger the better when it came to nigger poontang.

He could see that Tammy Taylor stood only an inch or two over five feet tall – and there was no way she weighed more than ninety-five or a hundred pounds.

She had her kinky hair braided and held in place with many little pink bows. Her face was round and very cute. She had features that looked as if they should have been painted on the face of a Negro doll.

Her skin was very smooth. She had a perfect complexion. It was clear to anyone who looked at Tammy that she had never suffered from a facial blemish.

Her eyebrows and her eyelashes were just as black as the hair on her head. In spite of the fact that she had never plucked them, her eyebrows grew slenderly, and femininely angular.

Her eyelashes were very long and curled upward at their tips. They were longer than the lashes of any of the white women Bernard knew – and the white women wore mascara to lengthen and thicken their lashes. The slaves, the female slaves, were not allowed such vanities – of course.

Her eyelashes were so long that they licked lightly at Tammy Taylor's high cheekbones each and every time she blinked. Her nose was remarkably slender – almost pointy at the tip – but she had the thick sensuous lips of her race.

In spite of her diminutive stature – Tammy had extraordinarily large breasts. Her tits were not only big, but they were perfectly shaped. The man could feel his mouth watering when he got his first look at her tits. He had seen them at the auction when he bought her – but he had forgotten just how delicious they were.

Her tits were firm and full with youth.

Her breasts were both pert and perky.

They rested very high on Tammy's chest.

Her nipples pointed slightly upward.

Tammy's tits were rounded at their bottom and sloped at their tops. They curved back toward her armpits, making her waist look almost painfully thin. She did have a slender waist. Indeed, it only measured twenty-two inches.

Her nipples were the color of chocolate. Her pupils were actually dark brown – but they looked just as ebony as her hair in the limited illumination in Bernard Cornfield's creepy torture chamber.

Her hips were rounded both at the sides and the rear. Her ass cheeks were every bit as smooth as when she was a baby. Her thighs were smooth also and tapered gracefully and perfectly from her round hips to her unscarred knees. Her legs were not long but they were shaped the way a woman's legs are supposed to be shaped. Her calves were rounded but not overly muscles. Her ankles were trim and her feet were dainty. The master could not help but notice that the little girl's toes were chubby and cute. Her toes, which were wiggling against the bare wood floor, were all very close to the same length, including her two big toes.

He could see that the diminutive slave had very little pubic hair. Most of the nigger wenches had shaggy kinky hair all over their mounds, along the sides of their pussies, in between the cheeks of their ass, and even sometimes sprawling out unattractively onto the insides of their thighs.

But Tammy had none of this.

She simply had two curls of black hair which grew above and to the sides of her clitoral foreskin, at the very face of her sloping mound.

Less than a third of the little girl's mound was covered with hair – and the hair that did exist, Bernard Cornfield could tell – was downy soft.

Judging from the little girl's mound, the white master correctly assumed that she was completely bald along the outermost edges of her vulva. He correctly assumed that she was equally hairless in the cleavage between her delicious round and brown ass cheeks.

"Now I want you to get upon that table and stretch out," he said.

It was clear from the tone in the man's deep baritone voice that he was not then – nor would he ever be – in the mood to take no for an answer.

He was not making a request.

He was giving a command.

"On my belly or my back, Master?" Tammy inquired.

"On your belly. First the whip," he said with a laugh.

"Please have mercy on me, Master."

"You are a little fool. Mercy! Ha! I don't even know the meaning of the word," the man said. He laughed an intrinsically sadistic laugh, throwing back his head.

Tammy trembled worse than before.

She could feel the muscles in her shapely gam's getting weaker by the second. The muscles in her legs felt as if they had been turned to gelatin.

Her knees were shaking.

Tammy Taylor was not at all sure how much longer her legs were going to be able to support the weight of her body – all ninety-seven pounds of her. Such was the toll her terror was taking on her diminutive black body. She was wet and slick with sweat. The man could smell her funk. There were many white men who didn't mess around with the nigger poontang on account of they found the scent too strong. Bernard was just the opposite.

There were few things in the world the white master liked better than the smell of nigger cunt. He loved the way it burned his nostrils and his sinuses a little. The scent of a slave pussy always intoxicated him. He liked his cunts dark, with lots of gravy!!!

The little girl managed to get over to the wooden slab torture table before her shapely legs gave out on her.

She stretched herself out on her belly – just as she had been instructed. The man wasted no time getting the torture session started. He was still chuckling a little to himself when he grabbed her slender left wrist with his huge right paw.

Bernard Cornfield pulled the little girl's arm up over her head toward the steel cuff at that corner of the table. She rested her right cheekbone against the hard wood. She could feel her tits being pressed flat against the torture table. Her nipples were erect and hard and throbbing with her fear.

He pulled the little girl's arm so hard that there was a frightening moment or two when Tammy thought he was going to break that wing.

She feared he would break it either at the wrist or the elbow. Indeed, he pulled until her was locked in the straight position.

Tammy's eyes were very expressive. They twinkled with merriment when she was with Jonah – yet they could look dull and somber when she was with a white man.

Here eyes welled with tears and then overflowed. Her salty rivulets of despair and terror ran down the sides of her face and dripped onto the table.

Some of the little tears made it all the way to the corners of her trembling lips – and then onto her slightly thickened tongue.

Her tears tasted terrible.

Bitter.

It was as if that saltwater had been tainted and made poisonous by the acute fear the girl was experiencing.

She knew that her master's whip was going to hurt worse than anything she had ever known before.