Note: This story was dynamically reformatted for online reading convenience.
 
 The Miami skyline slowly vanished behind us as the car sped along the
interstate.  Beside me, my new slave sat staring out of the window looking
furious.  I had left her bound as she was pushed into the limousine and her
bonds would not be unfastened until we were back at my estate.  Yet, it was
not that which had her so angry.  Partly, it was her status as a slave now,
but it was as much about the music I was playing.  A female singer's sultry
voice filled the car as African rhythms backed her vocal work.

   [I]My massa, he could kill me Call my brother Kunta Kinte And the things
he makes me do can make me physically sick But still you see me smilin'
Won't never hear me whinin' Cos I love to serve my massa and his big white
dick!  [/I]

   They call it Slave Rock, or Steel and Blues, and it had originated when
whites had seen how talented some of their slaves were.  It was aimed not
at slaves themselves but at at the white owners.  Slaves were made to
perform songs that spoke of the superiority of the white race and most who
were made to do so seemed willing.  Some artists had become internationally
famous, albeit with more condemnation then adulation.  It was also not
unknown for such a singer to be forced to perform sexually at the end of
the concert for selected audience members.

   "Can you turn that shit off?" my slave asked.

   "Funny," I said.  "I thought you'd like it if I played the music of your
people."

   She turned and stared at me, her face bearing a look that should have
been outlawed as an illegal weapon.

   "Just because an African American woman is made to perform that crap
doesn't make it an African American song.  She is singing it because she's
forced to as a slave," my slave said.  "It's not because it's from her
culture."

   "Certainly it is," I said.  "Her culture is slavery.  Her people, just
like you, are slaves.  Or are you stupid enough not to realise you're a
slave yet?"

   She drew in a sharp breath through pursed lips.  Her nostrils flared as
her eyes narrowed.  When she next spoke her voice was quiet and tremulous,
each word placed with individual attention.  I believe, if she could have
killed me right then she would have done.

   "I am no slave," she said.  "I was kidnapped by your trooper and sold
illegally.  As soon as that sale is seen in the North I will be freed and
YOU will be arrested instead!"

   I laughed.  "Are you serious?  Girl, you broke the law.  The sale was
legal...  At least, so the record will show.  Nobody will free you or do
you think you're the first Negro ever to have been taken on a trumped up
charge?  You're a slave all right and if you want any hope of surviving
intact you better learn your place!"

   "I did nothing!" she said.  "I was driving within the speed limit when
the trooper pulled in front of me and slammed on the brakes!  He is the
criminal here, not me!"

   "Yeah," I said grinning.  "That's kind of what I figured, but if doesn't
matter.  They probably doctored the video too to make it look like you were
speeding...  and that's all anyone will see - you speeding and slamming
into the back of a cop car.  Oh some will try to prove you were set up, but
they won't get anywhere.  And for arguing with me, you just warned your
first whipping back at my estate!  Reckon that'll be a right pleasure!"

   "What?"

   Her look of rage was replaced by one of panic.  If I was right, she'd
never been punished before - not really punished.  Oh, her daddy might have
spanked her as a little girl, but she'd never had her misbehaviour result
in the flesh being peeled from her back.  She would soon learn this was no
game.

   "You heard," I said.  "Now, to show you understand and accept being my
slave, why don't you suck my cock?"

   "Fuck you!" she snapped.

   I guessed it was a mixture of bravado and shock that made her behave so
stupidly and I had to resist the urge to strike her hard across the face.
As I forced myself back into a calmer state I smiled.  Yes, this would be a
good start.

   "You will suck my cock and you will make me believe you love doing so
and do you know why?"

   She stared at me in silence.  I guessed that she was aware she might
well have made her situation worse but it was obvious she was struggling
not to continue her angry tirade.

   "It's because you're a smart girl," I said.  "For a Negress at least. 
You can weigh up your alternatives and decide which is best.  You showed
that in your argument before Congress, even if your theories were
preposterous.  So you can assess your alternatives here."

   "What do you mean?" she asked.

   "Well," I said.  "On the one hand you can give me the best blow job you
have ever given anyone.  You can moan in pleasure and afterwards say 'Thank
you, Massa!' An uppity Northern Negress like you might find that shameful
and disgusting, but you can do it.  On the other hand, for such a refusal,
I will drill a hole through every tooth in your head.  That itself will be
agony, but will pale in comparison to leaving the nerves exposed
afterwards. Every time you eat or drink the general agony you are in will
triple.  Hell, every time you breathed through your mouth or clenched your
teeth the nerves would pierce your mind with sharp pain.  It would take
some time before your teeth finally crumbled from your jaws and granted you
a reduction in pain.  And then I'd go back to using your mouth anyway."

   "You wouldn't!" she said.

   "Why not?" I asked.  "Do you think I let slaves get away with being
disobedient?"

   "No..." she said after a while.  She seemed to be examining her words as
she slowly chose them.  "No, you don't...  but you are a slaver.  To you,
I'm a commodity.  If you ruin my teeth you will reduce the amount you could
sell me for."

   I laughed, genuinely surprised by her response.  "Well done," I said. 
"I expected some nonsense about it being inhuman to do that to a person,
which you no longer are, or some preposterous grandstanding about me not
getting away with it.  All of that would be ridiculous, but you are right
that if I follow through on the consequences I gave you you'd fetch less at
resale.  Unfortunately that would only be meaningful if I intended to sell
you, which I don't.  I bought you for me, to enjoy watching the most uppity
Negress in the North fall from her ivory tower into slavery.  So yes, I
very much will drill your teeth if you fail to follow my command to my
satisfaction, and I'll enjoy doing it."

   She was shaking.  Her eyes shone like bright diamonds in her horrified
face.  As I looked lower I saw her nipples were standing out from her
breasts with sham arousal as if trying to flee her doomed body or offer
themselves to their callous owner.  Many would be shocked to see such a
sign of passion but I'd seen it before.  It reminded me of a slave from
long ago who I had been unable to work with and decided to execute as a
lesson to others.  Even as I'd led her out to die the scent of her orgasm
drowned out the background odour of wood smoke from her soon-to-be funeral
pyre.  Terror will do that to some people.  It's a fickle beast.  It can
turn the bravest soldier into a quivering mess or the most cowardly
weakling into a homicidal maniac.  It can also hit the libido hard, as if
the body knows this may be its last chance for orgasm.  I ignored her
reaction for now, simply reflecting that that too would make for a wondrous
psychological torture later.

   "So, girl," I said.  "Prove me wrong.  Show me you're obstinate enough
to lose you're teeth.  Or get on the floor between my legs and show me you
want your Massa's cock."

   It took her only a moment to act and she did not protest further or cry
as I half expected.  Instead she struggled to push herself forward from her
seat and let herself fall to her knees.  Her bonds made movement difficult
in the travelling vehicle, but still she was determined to follow her
directions.  Twice I saw her stumble as she eased herself around on her
knees before she managed to crawl between my parted legs.  As she looked up
at me she did not smile, but she managed to keep the hatred from her face.
I unzipped my fly as the song changed to one that largely featured a slave
begging his Mistress to hurt him and I pulled out my now fully erect cock.

   "So much for racial pride," I said.

   She actually sneered at me which, given her position, I found amusing.
What she said surprised me.

   "You think I'm ashamed of this?" she said.  "Of sucking your dick?  I'm
not.  I'm disgusted by it, repulsed by it and I hate you for making me do
it, but I'm not ashamed.  That would mean I blamed myself and all I'm doing
is surviving.  As to pride, I am proud of my people.  We've survived
everything your kind has done to us and we'll go on surviving until slavery
is wiped out everywhere.  It's the strength of other slaves I'll draw on to
make it through whatever you do to me until your ass is arrested for this!
Now, do you still want me to suck your cock, 'Massa'?"

   I laughed.  I couldn't help myself.  I was damn near in a state of
shock. I'd seen slaves try to rebel before but nothing like this.  She
evidently had a core strength to her that I hadn't realised.  It was going
to be fun seeing just how resilient she was.

   "Yes, slave, I do," I said.  "More than ever."

   She nodded, her lips pursing just slightly.  She was smart enough not to
hesitate further even if her outburst had been stupid enough to earn her a
harder thrashing than she'd already been due.  She leaned over my lap and I
felt the heat of her breath on my cock, making me moan in anticipation. 
Without her hands to help her, she was struggling to maintain her balance
and twice she failed to engulf me in her warm mouth as the limousine
switched lanes.  I lay my hands on her shoulders, providing a little more
stability, and eased her forward.  It was the first time I'd touched her
and I delighted in the warmth of her deep brown flesh.

   "Better be careful, slave," I said.  "I don't like to feel teeth, even
accidentally."

   She said nothing, but flicked her tongue out to tease the tip of my
cock. I gasped as an almost painful thrill seared down my shaft to my
balls. I wasn't new to sex, nor to using my slaves.  It was an important
part of their training.  Yet in that one touch I knew I wanted her like
none before.  I lay a hand on the back of her head and urged her to take me
between her lips.  I was not going to delay my pleasure this time.  I
doubted that I could.  This was as much about conquest as it was about
sexual thrills.  I needed to fill her with my jism to teach her her place,
and I was already eager to empty my balls into the belly of this
once-ardent activist of abolition.

   "That's right, girl," I said.  "Worship your master's cock."

   The insulting instruction, which just yesterday she would have bitten a
man for, did not even slow her down.  Her tongue wound around my cock,
swirling hotly against the flesh as she sucked my shaft hard.  She used her
teeth to nibble me, but only by pressing them down down on her lips so I
did not feel their sharpness at all.  I'd had better blow jobs, but she was
hardly unskilled.  I wondered what her sex life had been like before.  I'd
assumed, like a lot of militant black feminists she was either frigid or an
ardent lesbian, but that wasn't what I was seeing here.  This was an
experienced cocksucker who knew how to delight with her mouth.  I could
already feel my climax building.

   "Swallow it, slave!" I cried as I forced her face hard down into my
groin.  My cock speared down her throat as I spewed my juices into her. 
"Swallow it all, Negress, or I'll find something far worse to feed you!"

   And she did.  As she pulled her face back from my cock she continued to
lick and suck to clean me.  After my orgasm I was very sensitive and her
ministrations were almost painful, yet even that was pleasant.  As my cock
came free of her lips I saw her tongue flick out to clean them too and by
the time I could see her face fully a second later there was not a drop of
cum to be seen.  To say I was surprised would be an understatement.  Not
many slaves would perform so well on their first day.  Not that she would
know that.

   "Well," I said.  "I suppose you managed to make me cum, but I expect to
enjoy any future blow jobs a Hell of a lot more!"

   "If I'd known you had such a hair trigger," she said.  "I'd have gone
slower!"

   I looked at her, her eyes holding mine.  In theory, she was now lying on
the floor bleeding from a bust lip and likely nursing a broken tooth for
that.  She wouldn't be the first slave to receive such an instant and
violent response for being insolent.  She wouldn't be the last.  Yet
something stopped me.  I didn't want to do that to her and instead I
mentally added five to the count of lashes she'd receive from the whip when
we got home.

   "That's a dangerous mouth, slave," I said.  "If I were you I'd retrain
it and keep it on a tight leash.  Now we'll be home within the hour so
relax and keep quiet.  I think I'll listen to some music."

   I turned up the Steel and Blues station, knowing how much it offended
her.  It was a tiny punishment for what she'd done, but an apt one.  There
would be more later.