Mark Townsend - White captive

"Leave it there," she heard his voice command from above her. "They ain't never seen a white ass before, baby, an' I jist wanna give 'em a little look at what they been missin'."

Susan hesitated, still crouched on the floor where she kneeled in the vain attempt to cover herself. Her arms were folded tightly over her large firm breasts that swayed down voluptuously from her bending torso, naked and unprotected. Her legs were clamped tightly together in an attempt to hide the blonde silken treasure lying between her thighs. She began to tremble from the sudden obscene exposure of her body to the others in the room.

"Get up, baby," Duke commanded tersely. "Let 'em see what all of a white little honky ass looks like."

Susan froze when she looked across the room and saw the others begin to rise from their chairs and walk with bulging eyes toward her, crouching naked and vulnerable before the fireplace. She looked up at Duke with a pleading cowed look in her eyes, but his gaze remained cold and totally without sympathy. This was his moment to shine in the eyes of his underlings, and he was playing it for all it was worth. He was demonstrating, with a calculated purpose, the power he held over her, and all like her. He was cruelly sure of himself, and Susan felt her body rising involuntarily to a standing position before his hard unyielding stare, unable to resist his command.

The others crowded around her, gaping with unadulterated admiration and desire at the full proud young body being exhibited before them.

"Jesus Christ," Shorty breathed. "Look at them titties. Man, I'd like to git my mouth on them."

Stitch stood immobile, a crazy lustful grin on his face. It was all he could do to keep from reaching forward again and fondle the softness of her with his harsh callused hands as he had done before in the car, but one look at Duke cut him short. He had felt his wrath earlier, and that was enough to keep him restrained for a while.

"You jist ain't got no right to hold us off 'er," Coke gasped as his eyes followed the full, ripe contours of her curved hips to the soft silken down at the juncture of her hips and thighs. "We're all in this 'un together, man."

Duke stood proud and defiant beside her, reveling in the control he held over she and the others. It was the supreme moment of leadership for him, being able to play on and control their passions this way. He was confident and sure of his power, and as he stood there, almost smirking at them, a thoughtful contemptuous smile slowly crossed his lips.

"Hey, you cats really want a chance to get at 'er?"

"Man, that's what we been talkin' about all night long," Shorty answered quickly, his eyes locked greedily on Susan's naked body.

"How much bread ya got between ya?" Duke asked as his eyes narrowed slyly.

"We ain't gonna buy 'er. That ain't right," Coke protested.

"Who said, buy, man. I'm talkin' bout a little poker."

"Y-Y-You always w-w-win," Stitch stuttered out his objection.

"Aw, man, come on, I jist been lucky. You might win it all tonight. Take a look at them fine white titties. How'd ya like to get your hands on 'em?"

Susan shrank back as she heard Duke's words. He was proposing to offer her as prize in a game of chance. He just couldn't mean it! He wasn't going to use her as his stakes in a poker game! She had heard of wives being lost in card games of the old west and on the Mississippi river boats, but it just couldn't happen now. Not with these savage negroes as players.

"P-Please don't," she stammered, speaking her first pleading words to Duke since he had assaulted her in the car. She had never thought she could bring herself to beg like this in such a degrading position, but she had no choice. It was total subjugation to him alone or be used as a helpless plaything by all the others.

"Don't you worry, none, baby. They cain't play them boards like I can. We just gonna git us a little pile heah while we got the chance."

"I-I can't do it," she whimpered, her face pressed tight into her hands.

"You gonna do it, baby, if I tell ya to, and, I'm tellin' ya to. So jist shutup and let me concentrate on the game."

"H-H-How much d-do I n-n-need?" Stitch muttered. Visions of the poor helpless girl rolling and tossing beneath his driving cock fiickered through his mind like a pornographic film.

"Five dollars each. Anybody I lose my five dollars to, gits her for one time, and I git my five dollahs back."

"I-I-I only got t-t-two," Stitch whimpered piteously. "G-G-Gemme some c-credit, D-D-Duke, p-please."

"You others got it?" he directed at Shorty and Coke.

"Yeh," they both murmured unhappily in unison.

"We git to do anything we want to with 'er, right," Shorty clarified as Duke led them back to the table.

"Right," Duke laughed confidently. "But ya gotta win 'er first."

"An everybody gets to watch," Coke added, his excitement building at the prospects of getting the young soft white girl beneath him.

"Yeh, heh, you cats can do it all," Duke agreed with a laugh, "and, Stitch, I'm gonna let ya in on it too."

He watched Stitch's face light up for a moment and then added with a teasing glint in his eye, "But all ya git if ya win, is to eat 'er."

"T-T-That ain't f-f-fair," he stuttered back, all enthusiasm dying from his eyes. "B-B-But I'll d-d-do it."

"If you ever git that big ole thing o' yours inside 'er she'd be ruined for life. Man, nobody in town 'ud be able to touch the sides ag'in."

There was no further argument and Duke made Susan clean the table without letting her put her dress back on. It was obvious he was enjoying the covetous glances the others were casting at her naked white body, and wanted to extend his domination over them as far as he could under the opportune circumstances. Susan was forced to stand by Duke and keep the glasses full while the game got under way. She watched each hand with growing consternation and could feel her heart beating faster each time she saw one of the others win.

Duke had made her take another glass of whiskey, and she found herself sipping more heavily from it as the time passed with agonizing slowness. The light headedness she felt from the half-glass Duke had made her drink a short while ago came back again with this additional glass of warm liquid. She needed the courage it gave her to keep from fainting, as she watched her fate being decided by the four negroes sitting at the table in heavy concentration. She could feel her legs wobbling slightly as she lifted the glass more and more frequently to her lips. Duke's luck was becoming worse with each passing hand.

Shorty's smile was broadening as the game continued on. He was gradually whittling more and more of the leader's money away in spite of the fact that he was breaking even, or winning slightly from the other two.

After about a half an hour of intense play, there was a loud moan from Stitch's side of the table. He was out. He rose, throwing his cards with a disappointed flourish to the table, and slumped dejectedly in a chair in the comer of the room.

Susan's heart rose at this turn of events. At least, she wouldn't be subjected to ravishment by the half-wit tonight. It was him she feared the most, for there was no way of telling what he might do to her if he got the chance to be alone with her.

Her joy was short-lived, however. A few minutes later, the ape-like Shorty won over half the money on the table with one hand. She filled her glass again from the bottle in the kitchen and poured another round for the others. She purposely filled Shorty's and Coke's glasses with more bourbon than Duke's. She hoped it might dull their minds to the game and give Duke some advantage, but it was quickly dashed when he raised the glass to his lips and downed it with one quick swallow. He pushed his glass toward her without taking his eyes from his cards, and ordered her to fill it again. She did his bidding, detecting a more and more helpless anger rising in his voice with each passing moment of the game.