Mark Townsend - White captive

"Where's that whiskey." A harsh cry from the living room turned her toward the door.

Susan used all her will power to force herself to walk back into the living room. She trembled, knowing she had no choice. If she didn't do as they commanded, they would only force her, and that would be a thousand times worse. No, it wouldn't help anything for her to show resistance. In fact they probably would enjoy it like school boys deriving sadistic pleasure in tearing the wings from the beauty of a summer butterfly, merely because it was beautiful.

No, fighting would only make matters worse and she couldn't bear for this to go on for too long. She would just have to bear up under it until the chance for escape came. She knew that she had to do it. There was nothing else in all the world to help her but her own will power and courage. She was alone.

"Me first, blondie," Shorty said as she stepped through the door with the bottles in her hand. "Jist remember whose yo' boss now."

He held his glass out as she drew nearer, a cocky smile stretched across his lips as he relaxed back in the big easy chair. She placed the full bottle on the table and began to fill his glass from the other. All the whiskey she had consumed was taking its toll and it took all her concentration to avoid spilling Shorty's drink on the table. She knew this would be a costly mistake and would probably bring further pain and suffering to her later on if she made them angry now. She knew she had to be very careful.

"Man, yo' really got a nice looking lil' pussy there, baby. Give us a lil' feel now to get us warmed up some," Shorty leered.

Susan automatically jumped back as his thick stubby hand reached out and began stroking the soft resilient pubic hair growing at the base of her white softly rounded belly.

"Freeze, bitch," he commanded coldly. The cruel unyielding tone of his voice immobilized her and she stood cringing next to where he was slumped down in the chair. Her face crimsoned at the indignity of having to stand there unable to move as his harsh callused fingers coursed around the secret protective parts of her exposed genitals. She could hear through tightly clenched eyes the snickers of the others in the room as they watched her black tormentor taking indecent liberties with her white young body. She moaned softly in shame and humiliation as she suddenly felt the tip of a finger part the sparse blonde pubic hair and push itself into the soft fleshy folds surrounding her vagina. It was still moist from the ravishment she had undergone in the car some hours ago and she heard a slight gasp come from his lips as he felt her openness.

"Yeh man, it's gonna slide up that tight lil' hole nice and easy like," he murmured as he worked his finger up and down the length of the narrow hair-lined slit. "Ole Shorty's gonna bake his bread nice and long in this lil' oven. He's jist gonna lay theah and soak and rise, and soak and rise, 'til the sun come up in the morning."

Susan felt the blood rising in her head until she thought her brain would burst from the pressure. Her face was beet red from the indignities being heaped upon her. Now as the others looked on, their demeanors slowly changed from one of amused fun to a slow smoldering desire.

Duke sat still slumped over the table, his eyes gazing darkly around the room as he watched the jubilant Shorty slowly working himself into a sexual frenzy that he knew was going to erupt in a volcano of rape within a matter of minutes. He wanted with all his soul to rise at that moment and smash his fist into Shorty's face until there was nothing left but a bloody mass of unrecognizable flesh for what he was doing to the girl. Not because of any particular feeling for the girl, but because he had possessed something the others had not, and now they would have it too. At least, Shorty and Coke would. He had warned them about that bastard, Stitch, and they had better heed the warning or he would forget they were his brothers in this war against the honkies.

"Don't put no marks on the girl," he suddenly commanded, rising from the table. "And remember, that crazy bastard don't touch 'er."

Shorty was suddenly jerked from his eager probing between the trembling Susan's legs by the harsh gruffness of Duke's voice, and withdrew his hand by instinct. He was disciplined to following the leader's commands without question, and this was no exception even though he had won the girl for the evening. He knew he could get away with almost anything as long as he stuck to what he could argue logically was his, but if he didn't, there would be danger he was not prepared to accept.

"Awright, he cain't have none," Shorty agreed after a moment's thought. He knew he had a right to argue over whether he should let Stitch have some or not, but wanted to take no risk now of losing the voluptuous prize he had won by pushing Duke's well-known temper too far.

"I'm gonna go to bed now," Duke announced as he kept his cold stare on Shorty, then made his way to the bedroom door and paused. "And, I'm gonna hold ya for whatever happens," he growled as he shut the door behind him.

Shorty stayed silent as he watched his leader disappearing through the door, then let his eyes flicker back to the downcast Susan still standing by his chair. He rose slowly, and with a sudden move that caught her completely by surprise, grabbed her wrist and twisted her arm painfully behind her back so that she was forced to turn and fall back against him. Coke and Stitch jumped up from where they were sitting and crowded around her so they could see the exposed view of her white curvaceous front. Stitch's eyes glowed like a cat's in the dark, as he feasted them hungrily on the firm round breasts pointing out at him, gleaming in the firelight.

"Y-Y-Y-ou gonna let m-m-m-me fuck 'er t-too, ain't 'cha, Shorty," he stuttered excitedly from the impact the sight of Susan's body was having on him. "H-H-He won't d-d-do nothin' if ya let me."

"You jist gimme a hand when I need it, man, and I'll see," Shorty leered through his toothy mouth. It was obvious he was enjoying his sudden thrust into prominence by winning the poker hand, and he was going to glean every satisfaction he possibly could from the situation, including lording it over his fellow gang members.

"Yo gonna do what I say without no trouble, white girl," he suddenly directed at Susan, who was struggling in front of him against the pain in her arm.

She clenched her teeth tightly together and refused to speak.

"Yo' better learn to listen to me, baby," he hissed, and continued to twist harder.

Susan grunted from the increased pain, but still refused to speak. Her face was locked in a determined expression of defiance that seemed to increase with each moment the final assault on her helpless body drew near.

The weakness and lethargy she let herself sink into earlier had faded, and she now found herself resisting them automatically with all her moral being. Even the cruel inhuman pain she was being subjected to could not overcome the intense revulsion and hate she felt for the three dark and almost animal-like faces surrounding her. She had to resist even though she knew her fate was inevitable. Her final punishment and humiliation would be in their hands.

"Awright, honky bitch, ya asking for it," Shorty finally growled in frustration and anger at the unexpected courage of the helpless girl. "You guys gimme a hand."

He jerked forward and pushed her toward the filthy rickety bed against the far wall. Her arm was almost twisted to the breaking point, and it was almost with relief that she felt herself being pushed face down onto the mattress, causing him to release her wrist from the cruel hold he had on it. But… it was only a momentary relief. As she struggled to hide her nakedness with her hands and arms, other hands reached out from the side of the bed and pressed her tightly down into the dirty creaking mattress.