Torments of the Widow McWorter Ch. 07-10

"That's better my little bitch," he said a little less angrily. "You are to always call me SIR because from this moment on I own you…, you are my chattel…, my plaything…, my sex toy to be used in whatever way I see fit. You must always show me the respect that is due the absolute master of your body and your soul. You on the other hand, are henceforth a lowly slave no longer entitled to pride, dignity or courtesy. Hereafter you have neither a will nor a life of your own. To please me, sexually and otherwise, shall be your only concern."

"I have not decided yet, but you are a pretty thing, and I may even take you as my wife. In my business I need a pretty wife to stand adoringly beside me on camera as I preach my message. It makes for good TV. If I do marry you, however, our relationship will not change. What you are to me this minute, female flesh to feed my passion, you will continue to be all your life even though you are my wife. Whatever titles I may give you, no matter how you are presented publicly, all that is meaningless. You can never be anything but dirt under my feet that I keep only to enjoy the use of your quite lovely body. Do you understand that?"

"Oh yes," I answered without hesitation. "I understand! I belong to you. I am only pitiful slave, and you are my owner and master! My body and its every hole is yours to use and abuse. I do adore you sir, and I am willing to pleasure you in whatever way you desire, oh so willing."

"Stand up then! Stand up and strip for me slut," he ordered, and I did as I was told. It was easy enough to do. I had only to pull the remaining strap of my dress off my other shoulder, and my entire top dropped abruptly to my waist leaving my breasts bare and heaving. I am proud of my breasts, and I stood frozen before him for a moment that he might admire them. Then, with a quick downward shove with my hands, all of that now useless black silk slid over my hips and landed in a heap around my ankles.

My new master inspected me closely for a long time. Looking at my breasts he nodded and smiled, but when his eyes reached my belly, the smile faded to a frown. I had disappointed him in some way. Why? How?

Then I understood. Of course, my panties! The covered my pussy! A worthy female slave should never hide her sex from her master. I had not meant to offend. I would not have worn that hateful nylon had I known that tonight this man would strip me of my dress and demand my surrender. I had worn panties only because I was afraid I would need something to sop up my wet and keep it from running down my thighs. The big dark damp spot that marked the crotch proved I had been right about that much.

Suddenly, unexpectedly, however, I was not the seductress but the seduced, a female in submission, standing humbly for inspection by the master who owned her, and such proprieties as a dripping pussy were no longer her concern. Indeed, it is the duty of a slave woman to be always aroused and constantly disgraced by her wet cunt. A vagina always ready to take her master's cock is all the captive female is good for, and she has no right to modesty or dignity. I stammered an apology to my new owner for not being ready tonight to properly display myself naked before him, and promised that in the future I would never wear anything that interfered with his access to my body.

Out of the corner of my eye I could see Carter, my master's Negro manservant, watching my capitulation. Even though I was not yet completely naked, it was humiliating to know he was there while I humbled myself before my mew master. Why that should have been I cannot say for certain. After all, while I was away in college Alcee, Miss Maebelle's black lover, had fucked me often.

On the other hand, I was no longer a quasi-anonymous student at a distant college. I was back in my hometown where I had been raised to southern standards of behavior. In Mobile Alabama the separation between white women and black men is rigidly observed by both races. In Mobile a white woman does not parade her body before a Negro man unless she is a whore. The Reverend and Carter both knew that as well as I.

I wondered, "Is that what this master would make of me…, a whore to be displayed in the nude before forbidden eyes?"

Then I was struck with another thought, one that I found even more distressing. Was I the first white woman Carter had seen strip off her dress and stand and subservient before his employer? Had other 'belles' of the old south been so overcome with their lust for this preacher's cock that they shamelessly offered their naked bodies to him even as his Negro servant looked on as a witness?

Yes, without a doubt they had. It was presumptuous for me to think I was the first woman to become the love slave of this overpowering man. If it had been otherwise, the expression on Carter's ebony face surely would have not been so bland and controlled, almost as if he was bored by the pitiful spectacle I was making of myself.

Whatever! Mentally I slapped my face to remind myself of what I now was. My pride and modesty were forfeit, and my shame of no consequence. In a matter of minutes I had become a chattel, merely a piece of pretty furniture, something my master owned and could use as he pleased. If he wished to parade the naked body of his female slave before his servants, black or white, that was his right. It made not a single speck of difference whether I was concubine number one, or number one thousand and one.

Anyway, I realized Carter was a poor excuse for the guilt I felt. My real shame was from the ease with which this man had brought me to heel. I had been altogether too easy, groveling in surrender at the first touch of his hand. I remembered exactly what he had called me earlier…, "a slut, a slattern bitch, a tramp and a potential whore!" How had this masterful male recognized me so quickly?

Now I stood trembling with desire before him, my breasts bare, and only the thin nylon of my panties covering my sex. Humiliated and distraught by the prideless way I was offering myself, yet I was helpless to resist. Recognizing my disgrace, I kept my head bowed, and my eyes down staring at the floor as befits a slave woman in the presence of her master.

"All of it woman!" Alex demanded. "The panties too! I want you naked! Naked and ready to service my penis! Humble yourself! Honor me with your submission!"

I hooked my thumbs into the elastic waist of my panties and pushed them down, carrying the garter belt and hose with them. As I stooped to kick off my shoes and clear the crumpled clothing from around my feet, Alexander reached under me and gripped a hanging breast with a huge hand. I attempted to straighten, but he held me there in that iron grip, bent double at the waist, a naked woman kowtowing before her male master. His command was direct and simple:

"Stay! Obey! Submit!"

For long minutes he kept me frozen there, awkwardly stooped and exquisitely tortured by the strong fingers mauling my sensitive tit flesh and nipple. High voltage flashes cascaded from my tortured breast, electric flashes that raced downward through my belly to set fire to my cunt. His mastery was so perfect…, his domination so overwhelming…, absolute obedience and servitude were my only options. My legs quivered under the stress keeping my balance. I was afraid to speak, yet I was overwhelmed with the need to beg…, to beg for what…, I didn't know…, for mercy perhaps?.

"Please! Please, Sir!" I whimpered.

"Please what, slut?" Alexander asked sarcastically. "Please stop? Please don't stop? Please let me go? Please fuck me? Please don't fuck me? Please what, slut? What do you want me to do to you slut."

Miss Maybelle had taught me well, and her training came rushing to my rescue. "Please take me SIR," I begged, still whimpering. "Take me! Use me! Fuck me! I am yours I swear! Do with me as you will! PLEASE, SIR, take this slut to your bed and fuck her!"

Alexander made no reply. He stood, stripped his belt from his pants, and looped it around my neck. Without uttering a word he led me up the broad staircase by his improvised leash, tugging his naked concubine up the steps behind him. Unable to keep up, I slipped and fell, but my new master gave me no slack in his leash, nor any pity to my helpless plight. The belt around my throat tightened with a cruel yank, and I found myself scrambling upward on my hands, knees, and toes, stair step by stair step, frantic to relieve the choking pressure on my windpipe.

At the top of the landing I managed to regain my feet, and trotting to stay with him, I followed his long strides down the hall and into his bedroom. Finally he spoke for the first time since I begged him to fuck me.

"On the bed bitch," he ordered as he dropped the end of his improvised leash, and began kicking off his shoes. I lay down on my back and watched as he undressed. "Spread your legs! Play with your pussy Mary Beth. I want your hole wet and slick for my cock when I fuck you."

He needn't have worried. My cunt was running like a fountain, but I was grateful for his permission to run my finger up and down my slit and over my clit. I was a bitch in heat, and my cunt did so need the attention. From the top drawer of his dresser he brought to the bed four 6 foot lengths of soft clothesline rope. "Do you need to be tied before I fuck you?" he asked.

"No Sir," I answered. "I want you to fuck me. I will not fight you. Oh God no! I need your cock inside me to be your prisoner."

"That may well be my horny little bitch," Alexander answered, "but it makes no difference that you are a tramp eager for a prick to fill her greedy pussy. A slave woman must be raped the first time her master takes her. She must be helpless with her legs spread and tied to the corners of the bed. Her arms must be up and tied over her head. That way a female slave learns from the very beginning to accept what she is. Once and for all, and from the first, she must be taught that she has no choice but to pleasure her man however, whenever, and wherever, he wishes."

"Carter," he called to his manservant. "Come here I need you."

The big black man appeared almost instantaneous to his call. He must have been waiting right outside the door. Certainly he had been listening. Had he been watching too? He had already heard me pitifully plead downstairs to be taken like a street whore, was he now also to be privy to the actual surrender of my pussy?

What must he have thought of me as he helped Alexander tie my naked body spread eagle across a bed for the ceremonial sacrifice of my defenseless sex to the rampaging phallus of my owner? His expression was blank and unreadable, but surely he thought I was white trash, a slut, a whore, a woman without pride or morals.

In truth, as I later learned, I was not the first woman Carter had helped prepare for her ritual rape. Perhaps that is why he was so efficient. In almost less time than I can tell you about it, the two men had my legs spread and tied to the corners, and my arms pulled tightly upward and bound to the headboard, exactly as Alexander had promised.

Oh! What a lover my Alexander was! He might call what he did to me rape, but if so I must be raped more often. In my entire life, before and since, I have never been better fucked, and only a few times as well.

This man who had taken me as his property began his assault by crawling between my legs and eating my pussy. Those delicious strokes of his tongue up and down the slit of my sex continued for what seemed like an hour, although his mouth could not have been on my core for so long. Had it been so, I'm sure that I would have died of sheer excitement. His tongue stabbed in and out between my pussy lips, it swirled around my clit, it ran up and down my crack, seeking, teasing, tantalizing, tormenting, until I thought I would go crazy from the pure delight of the orgasms that came tumbling over me.

Finished with my vagina, he licked me up my belly, twirling his tongue in my navel, before reaching my breasts with that sweet mouth. Oh, what he did to my nipples! First his tongue, then his lips, and finally his teeth, tortured them in turn. He had been right to tie me to the bed because otherwise I would not have been able to control my body as a slave woman should when her master is enjoying her. Even as it was, I found myself fighting my ropes, alternatively shoving first my sex, then my tit flesh, into his mouth before pulling away as the sensations became too intense to withstand.

I must have fainted momentarily, because in my next recollection my lover is already sitting on my chest, his thighs straddling my neck, his buttocks seated on my breasts. Slowly he slid the tip of his hard-on back-and-forth across my lips allowing me to taste the first drops of his pre-cum discharge. I know what delight is in store for me, and I am eager for it. My prediction is correct as he next feeds his swollen penis into my mouth, and orders me to fellate him.

"Suck me sweet bitch. Swallow my cock as I fuck your throat. You will learn to love the taste of my meat and the flavor of my seed. Soon you will beg for permission to take me in your mouth, and suck the ambrosia from my testicles."

His prick was ever so hard, and ever so long, and the huge plum head at its crown stuffed my throat making it difficult for me to breathe. I so wanted him to feed me his ejaculation that I might taste his essence, but that was not to be. Instead he pulled himself from between my lips, and raising himself over my face, he dangled his great wet and shining member directly above my eyes for me to admire.

That great shaft was not a mere penis. It was a weapon! A weapon to erode my will! A weapon to demand my obedience! A weapon to demonstrate his mastery! A weapon to make a slave of the poor female trembling beneath him!

First he allowed me to enjoy the feel its silken skin as he drug its full length back and forth across my cheeks, first one and then the other, in tender caresses. Next, as if to symbolically beat me into submission, he slapped my face with that hard rod from chin to forehead, splattering the residue of my saliva and his pre-cum in drips and strings across my eyes, nose, and mouth.

Once more he reseated himself, this time astride my ribs where he could comfortably lay his prick between my heaving breasts. His hands squeezed them from the sides, closing my fullness over the top of his erection, stretching those tender globes together until the nipples almost touched. Over and over, perhaps a dozen times or more, he thrust his hips forward and then pulled back, using my tube of tit flesh to jack himself off. His thumbs, rough and harsh against my teats, were counterpoints to the smooth slide of his prick through my feminine softness.

Surely, I thought, he would cum in my face, but to my distress he did not! Instead, only to tease me I'm sure, he changed the tempo and direction of his assault. I moaned in protest when his hands released my breasts, but he paid me no heed as he laid his body out lengthwise on top of me. Straightening his legs down the bed sheet, he spread them as wide as my own spread-eagled thighs, pressing his smooth skin deliciously against mine.

For a long time, we lay there as one person, his piercing black eyes staring directly into mine, leg to leg, belly to belly, chest to breast, face to face, flesh to flesh, his hard-on cramped against my slit. His dominating stare, his warmth, his weight, his sex against mine…, MY GOD, it was all so delicious!

Finally he asked, "Are you ready now little slut? Are you ready to be fucked?"

Why would he ask? He knew I was.

"Oh yes sir," I answered quickly. "I beg! Please, please Sir, fuck me Sir! I beg you, FUCK ME SIR!"

His hips raised. The long erection that had been pressed so deliciously along the length of my vagina pulled away, but its crown dipped back to touch the lips of my slit ever so tenderly. "If only your hands were free Mary Beth. I would make you prove your submission by starting my cock into your cunt. Tonight you are tied, however, and that is a pleasure I must forgo to another time."

He reached between us with a big hand, and parting my pussy lips with the tip of that dangling male shaft, he set himself firmly inside my slit. A single hunch of his hips finished the job, burying him all the way to the mouth of my womb.

Oh God, but it hurt! He was so big, and he had split me open with such quick violence, I wondered if my poor pussy had been torn. Behind that first scalding flash, however, came a pure pleasure that washed away the pain under waves of erotic excitement. If I had not been his slave before, this first experience of having him inside me would have certainly made me so.

"Yes! Please! More! Harder please! Fuck me harder!" I begged.

It is a defining moment in a woman's life to be so filled, so stripped of pride and self-respect, so utterly without shame, that she will beg a man to fuck her. Was my weakness because I was in love with this man and his great penis, or was I his slave only because my cunt was insatiable? The answer did not matter. I was his and that was that.

"That's right little bitch," my new master answered. "Beg! Beg me to fuck your worthless pussy. Beg me for my cock. Beg me for my cum. You belong to me now. Obey me! Serve me!"

I hardly heard him. I was already too far gone, already sliding helplessly down hill into that deep chasm of sensual pleasure that only a woman who has been there could appreciate. I begged him, pleaded with him actually, to use me, to give me more cock, to fuck me, and keep on fucking me, hard and deep.

And, he did so! Over and over! Again and again, his iron rod stroked in and out of my tender hole. With each thrust the velvet smooth skin of that phallic rod rubbed over my exposed clit. As if they were actually static electricity, sparks struck from that sensitive nub lit a smoldering blaze deep in my ovaries that soon became a raging fire storm that consumed my total being in sheets of flaming orgasm.

At last it was over. His sperm flooded my pussy. As his warmth spurted into my womb, I climbed to the mountain top only to drop tumbling and screaming off that cliff into the bottomless pit of my last shattering climax.

My lover rolled from between my legs and lay at my side. Both of us were breathing heavily. Neither of us spoke. There was nothing to say. We each knew our relationship was now set in stone. I had been reduced to a sack of quivering female flesh without purpose in life other than his pleasure…, and mine. He was master. I was slave. Henceforth I would have no will of my own, and nothing would matter to me but the service of this magnificent penis that had just pleasured me so.

My new master rose to his knees, and straddling my breasts, his hand fed his great cock into my mouth. I understood this unspoken command. Gratefully, even reveling in my servile task, I sucked him clean of the slick residue from our coupling. My enthusiasm was not wasted as gradually his organ resumed its erection.

What a lover I had found! Even as well fucked as I was, he was not finished with me! Now he intended to fuck my mouth. I was willing. All evening I had thirsted for the privilege of orally servicing this adored penis and swallowing its discharge. That time had at last come, and I meant to make the most of it.

It takes a few minutes even for a man as virile as my new master to recover from an ejaculation, but in the end, I was not disappointed. With every stroke of my lips, the phallus that was plugged in my mouth became ever harder, and under the pressure of my tongue I could feel his heartbeat through its silky smooth skin. That pulse gradually became a throb that grew stronger with every beat, and every throb was a promise that my reward was on its way.