Unknown - The missionary_s daughter

"On, no, Balloo!"

"Daranje Kawat is king. Balloo is man. Missa Julie want king like God of the feathered spirits. 'Who is like unto him?'" Julie recognized the quotation. It was one her father was fond of using. Balloo was now roaring with laughter. "Balloo… not like unto him… and… and not Daranje Kawat either!" He guffawed.

Suddenly, Julie was struck with his meaning. He meant that she had listened to her father teach that no one could match his God of the feathered spirits, no mere man could satisfy her, not even their king, Daranje Kawat! She was discontented with the man for his own sake! She had to have the best, a king, nay, a God!

"No, Balloo, no!" Tearfully she shook his arm to try to stop his laughter, but before he stopped, two women had come for her and led her into a chamber on the other side of the room. There she saw a rush mat a foot deep!

Before she even realized what was happening, her robe had been taken off, the women had gone, and Daranje Kawat came in from a side door. He had a smile on his face, but she could not help trembling. Had he heard from her father? She wished to ask but the words would not even squeak out.

"You have gift," he said, still smiling. He looked as though he were to break out into the same inane chuckle she was getting accustomed to in the others. Then her irritable mood changed and she found herself wishing he would chuckle. It seemed as though her feelings were more in control of her opinions than she was. With a quick scoop then, he reached down for her as she trembled, and he turned her over on her face, pulling up at her hips and bunching the robe up and around her waist. Her ass waved whitely in the air at him.

It all happened so fast, she had little time to think, only to gulp. She felt his hands on her ass, felt them drawing the cheeks slowly apart. She was so frightened, she did not dare object. This man wielded the power of life and death! She felt the hands move away, and they were replaced by wild slavering lips coursing all around her smooth, oval asscheeks. He was biting into them without control, bringing tiny gasps of pain from her as she screwed her pelvis down into the mat to try and escape, unconsciously. He pulled and stretched at her asshole, and she could feel the strain on the tight rubbery ring around it. It hurt and she felt lewd and obscene and her whole soul, not just her body, felt naked and exposed to all the world as the black form hovered over her ass behind and slobberingly plundered at the tiny brown puckered hole. There was a pressure against her ankles then, and she did not resist as she felt her legs pulled open wide until the tips of her toes were hanging down on either side of the tall mat. The king's finger poked at her asshole, and she jerked automatically from the sudden pain.

Julie gasped and pleaded silently for a second, and then realizing there was really nothing she could do, relaxed to be used as the slavering primitive crouching behind her desired. She had to admit to herself that she had been attracted by him, but not for this and in such an impersonal way! She might have been a rag doll to him! She sucked in her breath as he dug at her asshole again with his middle finger, insinuating it slowly and methodically into the depths of her rectum. She moaned and pressed her face tight into the woven grass as she felt him slip it in harshly up to the first knuckle and begin to move it around sadistically in her tight contracting asshole. He dug his finger deeper and she cried out, but the scream died in her throat as she remembered that Balloo was right in the next room through an open door.

Then the king slipped his finger from her rectum with a wet sucking noise and clasped his broad thick rod in his hand. His orange and white robe, which opened down the front, was tied back out of the way. He had not meant to touch the white girl, but when Balloo had told him she had questions, he could not resist. Never had he enjoyed a piece of white ass. Then he would answer one or two of her foolish questions. He had seen time and again that those who did not know how to live, especially those who gave their souls to the God of the feathered spirits, were full of absurd questions.

He lowered himself down onto her back and she could fed his hands pulling the cheeks of her ass wide apart. He lifted his own ass in the air, and she could feel the tip of his black cock probing against her for several seconds, trying to find the tightly puckered hole. He did.

He pushed forward, and she felt a slight pop at her asshole, and then she suffered a sudden spasm of pain so unbearable that she twisted and screamed again and again, trying with all her strength to get away. Her asscheeks were moving like a snowy owl thrashing about to escape, but her jerks only helped to drive his huge black prick deeper and deeper inside of her.

She could feel the pressure of his body pressing down on her with a pulverizing strength, pushing her down into the mat, punishing the lovely white ass that waved back at his eyes. She bucked back up at him, trying to throw him off, but as she bucked up, he fucked down and imbedded his thick, rock-hard cock all the way to the hilt in the soft flaccid tunnel of her ass.

"Aaaauuuuuuuugggggggghhhhhhhh," she grunted in pain and continued her hopeless thrashing beneath him. She no longer felt human as the huge black blood-swollen cock ripped far up into her rectum, pushing against the bottom of her belly inside. She felt as though she were being split open by a knife and her insides were torn and ripped as they never had before. The pain was unbearable, and she fought in wild desperation for a full minute longer against the brutal fleshy pole sunk in her backside, and then with a final groan of hopeless surrender, her strength failed. She collapsed in a limp mass of flesh beneath the body of the king, who had her pinned to the thick mat like a butterfly to a board. This was clearly not doing any good. To get it over with, she had to help him, not fight him!

Daranje Kawat suddenly groaned as he felt the white girl's anal muscles tighten around his long thick length of lusty cock buried inside of her. His hard prick throbbed harder, and he couldn't believe his senses when her asscheeks began a slow methodical, but hardly perceptible rotation beneath him. He flexed his prick deep up her rectum in an answering signal to convince his skeptical and unbelieving mind that she was responding to him. He had suspected that the white people were pale in feelings as well as in skin color. He had not expected her to get anything at all out of this. So he gasped as he felt it, felt her throb and tighten around like a warm fitting hunting glove. His royal joy knew no bounds. He had conquered her, and suddenly gasping and moaning like a child with a new found delight, her jerked her almost weightless body up to its knees without losing the connection and began to saw rhythmically and deep far down into the velvety confines of her ass. He watched with disbelieving jubilance as the pinkish round skin of her puckered little asshole drew back with the long black shaft, clasping to it as though it did not want to let it go.

Kneeling before him, Julie began to undulate her ass in small tiny circles, waving the white full rounded cheeks back at him lasciviously like a red flag before a bull. And strangely, the tiny bit of whore in every woman suddenly broke forth into a tingle of masochistic excitement. She wanted to enjoy it, actually. She had to enjoy it, she told herself, or he would know she was just trying to hurry him. There was still pain but it was strangely pleasurable, and she found herself thrusting and squirming back to meet the obscene impalement, and he jerked forward into her clasping hole.

Behind her, the impassioned and delighted Daranje Kawat groaned each time he surged up into her, and she, too, was moaning beneath him and twisting and waving the whiteness of her ass back at him in a lewd invitation to fuck into her harder and deeper. Her face was turned to the side on the mat, and he could see her teeth bared back in ecstatic delight, her tongue flicking out wetly in time to the increasing power of his long, smooth strokes into her that carried the full length of his long plunging lust-filled rod of lewd flesh. Her long, brown hair flowed out over the mat and periodically whirled in the air before his eyes as with a sudden or particularly hard thrust, she would grunt and flail her head to the other side. How beautiful she would be if her skin were not so colorless!