Mark Townsend - White captive

Susan's whimpers stretched into a long, low continuous whine that filled the car like a distant siren. Through the dim haze of her tortured mind, she could feel him growing and growing deep – deep inside her until it felt as though his rampaging instrument would split her in two. He was going to cum in her. Her tears cascaded in torrents onto the rough Levi's of Shorty's crotch. The lewd thought was passing her mind of this horrible unknown negro filling her helpless belly and womb with his hot sticky lust. Oh God, she might get pregnant, ran crazily through her mind, and she tried to clench her buttocks as a senseless gesture of defense.

That did it!

As her warm wet muscles clasped tight around his hard-driving cock, Duke threw back his head with a wild scream, and his lewd hot sperm shot like a fire hose into Susan's wide-swept cuntal passage. She groaned in helpless submission before him as he emptied himself with spurt after spurt of his driving lust juices deep up inside her, filling her womb and belly to the bursting point.

"Oh God, no, no, no!" she screamed as she felt it ricocheting around in a warm wet pool in her vagina – a hot fiery reminder of her total subjugation to the cruel inhuman tormentor fucking into her from behind.

There was nothing else. The end had come so suddenly and so completely that Duke pitched forward in total exhaustion along the length of her flattened body and lay, breathing fast, unable to move.

Susan lay sobbing out her humiliation and fear beneath him, the sudden horrible thought coming to her that it wasn't all over. There were the others. Oh God, there were the others!

"Get off 'er, Duke, please. Lemme at 'er now."

"Knock it off, damn it, there's the shack just ahead," Coke cried excitedly from the driver's seat. "We can all get it now."

"Yeh," Duke added, rising from over the prostrate Susan and glowering at the cringing Stitch in the front seat. "Son-uf-a-bitch, he ain't gonna even touch 'er for what he done."

As he lifted, Susan could feel his deflated penis slipping wetly from her forever expanded passage. As the cool night rushed with a soothing swirl into her void, she listened with bated breath to the argument going on between the two negroes, as the speeding car came to a sliding halt in the night. Stitch was objecting with a low pleading whine to his voice, that sounded like a small child begging for candy from an older brother or sister.

"Ya heard me, ya bastard, ya touch 'er, and I'll kill ya. Next time ya'll know better," Duke said with finality in his voice. "Besides, ain't nobody gettin' none until we get our business outta the way. Remember, that's how come we're here."

There were groans from the other two at this statement, but neither of them pursued the matter as the harsh tone of Duke's pronouncement indicated he was in no mood for an argument.

"Come on now, let's get 'er outta the car. We got a lot to do 'fore the others get here."

She heard the door opening on the right side of her. The side she had been forced through a seeming eternity before, and now there were hands pulling her roughly through it and out of the car. She tried to stand on her own two feet when she felt the ground beneath them, but they would not hold and she was forced to lean against Duke's shoulder for support. The hem of her dress fell loosely from her neck and on down to her waist, as she struggled weakly to pull it the rest of the way down to cover her naked hips.

She was barefooted now, for her shoes had fallen loose in the car. The cool touch of the dirt beneath her feet brought some semblance of consciousness back to her dazed mind. Her hand tightened around Duke's arm, and in spite of the brutal assault he had just subjected her to, she found herself clinging to him blindly, half for support, and half from the fear of the others touching her. She followed him meekly across the short distance from the car to the ramshackled cabin in the small clearing. In spite of her still smoldering dread of his touch, he seemed to be the only barrier that stood between her and total rape by all the others. How long would he hold them off? She tightened her grip, and followed him passively, half stumbling, half walking, to the rickety stairs leading up the porch. She trembled at the thought of the unknown, and the frightening fate that she was certain awaited her inside.

The interior of the shack was even more shabby than the outside. Susan tried to hold back for a moment at the doorway, as Duke disappeared inside and lit an old-fashioned kerosene lamp, then returned to pull her in. The interior of the weather beaten shack was even more shabby than the outside and a bit cold.

"Build a fire, Stitch," Duke commanded to the sulking form that was last to enter. "And don't burn the God damn place up."

"I-I-I kin build a-a-as good a f-f-fire as y-y-you can," he stuttered defensively, and then stepped outside again to collect the wood.

"Ya oughta lay off him, Duke," Coke said when Stitch was out of earshot. "He's one o' us, and oughta be treated right."

"He'll be treated right, awright. If he ever pulls a stunt like he did back there in the car, I'll cut his balls off, and he won't have to worry none about it."

"Aw, he wuz just excited, ya know how he gits," Shorty chimed into the argument. "Ya know he ain't got a brain in his head."

"I know he ain't, an' that's why I'm pushin' 'im. He's gotta learn to control hisself, jist like the rest of us," Duke answered tersely. "When he does that, then he can have it. Besides, I got thinking to do. I tole the man I'd be all ready when he sends his contact man up with the plans tomorrow."

"Where was 'e comin' in from?" Shorty asked.

"Detroit, where else? You think them honkies got a goin' over last summer, man, you ain't seen nothin yet. Wait'll ya hear what he got in mind for 'em this time."

"He's gonna lay it to 'em, huh?" Shorty smiled a broad toothy smile, and smacked his hand against his knee. "He shore know how to do it."

"Yeh, but you remember whose boss here. I kin handle Chicago."

"Man, you gotta do what he say or we don't git no more money."

"Aw, he ain't so big. We kin make our own contacts if we gotta. There's plenty o' scratch around jist waitin' to be picked up to back good ole civil rights causes."

He snickered for a moment at his joke, and the others followed suit as Susan listened in confused wonder. The apathy that had lain over her mind since first being abducted into the car by this gang of negroes, was gradually lifting and she found herself becoming more and more perceptive of what was going on around her. She had assumed at first that they were just a wild bunch of criminals, perhaps escapees of the state reformatory, but now it appeared that they were something more sinister. They seemed to be here for a purpose, and it was surely connected with the riots that had started last summer – the ones that everyone was afraid were going to occur again, with school ending in a few weeks.

"What we gonna do with this honky chick, Duke?" Shorty asked. "She could blow the whole thing if she gits loose."

"She ain't gonna git loose, we'll make sure of that, and besides, the big glow ain't for two more days now, an' we'll worry 'bout her when that time comes."

"You ain't gonna kill 'er are ya?" Coke intervened with a worried expression on his face.

Duke looked at him for a short second, and then burst into laughter at his concern.

"Man," he roared, "here you gonna kill a hundred honkies on Friday, and you worryin' about one little ole white gal here. That's crazy, man, crazy."

"Yeh, but it's different," Coke argued back, a hurt expression on his face. "We cain't scream civil rights if they catch us."

"They ain't gonna catch us for nuthin, you hear. We gonna take care 'o her my way. And… meanwhile," he added, "she can watch after us, cain't chya, honey?"