~Subject: WhtCaptv 03/10 "White Captive"
~From: grobert@soho.ios.com (TheEditor)
~Date: Fri, 04 Oct 1996 06:22:53 -0800
~Newsgroups: alt.sex.stories
and let him have his share when they reached the shack.
Duke, pumping into her from behind like she was a bitch in
heat, squeezed all around her soft joggling buttocks. His fingers
dug cruelly at her cringing tiny puckered anus, and then jerked
forward again, clasping her hips and pulling her back limply over
his cock while he continued to skewer and ram into her with
growing abandon. His body was now a ball of sheer uncontrolled
lust that had unleashed itself completely against the squirming
beautiful, tender flesh in front of him. He could feel his heated
cock growing thicker and thicker in her belly, as he ground
savagely into her with a wave of sadistic delight flickering
across his contorted face. He had never had anything white like
this before, nothing this young and tender and helpless, and it
was driving him insane. His thick inflated cock ached and burned
as it never had before. He was almost there, almost there, and he
continued to ram eagerly into her with long hard strokes. He had
to end it before he lost his mind.
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.
Chapter 2
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?"
Duke smiled at her and Susan dropped her head back to the
floor. She leaned more heavily against the wall where he had left
her, and drew her arms around her breasts They hung loose and
partly exposed from a large tear in the upper part of her dress
caused by their struggles in the car. Her bra was gone along with
her panties, and she felt naked and vulnerable to their stares as
they waited for her answer to Shorty's question.
She stood silent and did not speak.
"I asked ya a question, baby," he suddenly spat at her and
walked to her side.
Still Susan did not move or make a sound, even though her
heart was lodged tightly in her throat in fear.
The loud sound of a hard slap suddenly echoed through the
room, as the negro who had just so brutally raped her, swung his
arm in a wide arc and brought the palm of his hand down hard
across her face.
"Now, you jist answer when I ask ya sumpin', baby, or next
time it's gonna be worse."
"W-What do you want from me?" she managed to finally stammer
out through the thin stream of tears it brought to her eyes.
"I just asked if you was gonna take care 'o us, and I want
the answer loud and clear for the boys."
"Y'Yes," she finally said quietly. She could see the cold
cruel glint in his black eyes, and knew that any sigh of
resistance right now would only bring further pain and indignities
from him. He was the leader of this gang, and could not under any
circumstances run the risk of being stood up against in front of
them. They worshiped strength and she sensed that if he lost his
prestige in this matter with them, that he would lose all. It was
again, the old tale of the male lions fighting for leadership of
the "pride," and the women that went with it. There was only one
law that applied, and that was the law of the jungle, pure and
simple.
"That's a good lil' honky chick. We gonna make a good honky
outta ya yet, jist to show these boys that the only good honky,
ain't a dead one. Ain't that, right."
Duke smiled arrogantly down at her and tweeked her cheek with
his thumb and forefinger. Susan nodded her head dejectedly in
agreement.
"Awright, Coke, show 'er the kitchen, man. She's gonna have
to earn 'er keep here for a few days, in more ways than one. And,
make 'er clean it good."
He grabbed her arm and shoved her towards the tall thin negro
who had been driving the car, and she let herself be led to the
kitchen without a struggle. There was no longer any sense in the
hopeless resistance she had put up at first. Her only chance for
even staying alive now was to keep close to Duke. She was certain
his hard outward approach to her was an act to show the others
that he could be cold and cruel, for he seemed to have developed a
sense of protectiveness toward her that might keep the others
away‹for a little while anyway.
The kitchen was a mess and looked like it had not been used
for a long time. The sink was filled to the brim with dirty
molding dishes and the dusty shelves were almost bare except for
an assortment of rusting cans of beans and soup. Coke inspected
the door that led out to the back, making certain the padlock
attached to it was still secure so there could be no chance for
her to escape.
"Now you do what Duke done said to do and don't try nuthin'
that might be crazy. He might git mad and you ain't never seen
nobody as wild as him when he's mad."
Susan nodded in assent and limply began her task of cleaning
up the mess. The odor from the dishes almost made her sick, but
under Coke's watchful gaze, she soon had them soaking in hot water
that she had heated on an old wood-burning stove. On a command
from Duke in the living room, Coke stepped outside and returned a
few minutes later carrying a large box of groceries.
"Duke says you're to git us some supper. And, make it
quick," he added with an authority of his own.
"W-What can I fix," she asked with a slight tremble in her
voice. It was the first time she had spoken to any of them except
when she had been forced to. She could hardly bring herself to do
it, but knew she must, or risk facing the wrath of Duke again.
She dared not alienate him completely or he might be forced to
show his control over her by letting the others take advantage of
her as he had done. Susan vowed to herself that she would rather
die‹and would do all in her power to avoid being used in that way
again.
"Fry them pork chops," Coke answered her question after a few
moments thought. "Duke likes 'em."
Susan bent to her task with as much strength as she could
gather after the horrible beating her muscles had taken. She was
a bit surprised though, that the soreness between her legs was not
more acute, considering the ravishment she had undergone. She had
done a lot of horseback riding when her father was alive, and
perhaps that had loosened her for the final assault that the
idiotic Stitch had subjected her to with his fingers.
This was the first time the thought had come to her mind
since they left the car. She had been in a complete state of
shock since the negroes had first grabbed her, and now even though
her consciousness was beginning to clear, she still could not
recall all the bitter details of what had happened or why it had
happened. She was certain of one thing. She could never forgive
her mother again for as long as she lived, for it was her mother
who was responsible for her being here at the mercy of this cruel
group of criminals.
Why had they used her like this? Sheer lust couldn't be the
answer unless they were absolute animals, and the thought was
gradually sinking into her mind that perhaps they were. She had
not known many negroes, but those she did know were no different
than all of her other friends. Why then, this sudden bitter
attack on her body, and the use of the name "honky" as a
derogatory word toward her? What were they trying to accomplish
by all of this brutality?
"Hey man, where's the food," her thoughts were suddenly
interrupted by Duke's complaining voice from the living room.
"You been out there thirty minutes."
"She's gittin' it. Don't worry none," Coke answered from his
chair in the corner where he had been sitting patiently watching
Susan at work. Though she hadn't looked at him at all during the
entire time she had been working, she knew very well his eyes were
glued tightly to her almost entirely visible body beneath the
tattered gown she was wearing. It had been ripped and torn in so
many places that there was very little material left to cover her
completely nude body hiding beneath. While she had been getting
the pork chops ready, she concentrated on keeping her arm pinned
down to the side of her left breast, so it wouldn't fall out in
front of Coke. She knew this would be fatal. They were already
all worked up so bad by watching Duke rape her in the back seat of
the car, that it wouldn't take much to set them off again.
"You 'bout ready, baby," Coke asked impatiently after
watching her turning the pork chops, trying to get them to cook
faster.
"Yes, they're ready now," she said limply, after a last look
into the frying pan.
"Okay, baby. Where ya want it, Duke?" he yelled loudly
through the doorway.
"Here," he answered with a laugh.
"You hear 'im, baby. Go to it, and bring all the forks an'
knives."
"All right, but it's going to take a minute," she answered
coldly. Not only had their leader ravished her young helpless
body until she could hardly walk, but now they were turning her
into their servant to wait on them too.
"Here, I'll take 'em," Coke said impatiently and grabbed the
stack of dishes she had collected from her hands. "You jist git
the food in heah, right now," he commanded.
Susan hurried as fast as she could in the dim light of the
kerosene lamp, carrying a plate of pork chops in one hand and a
bowl of beans in the other. Coke had placed the plates in their
places around the table, and she went from one to the other
dishing out their portions. It was the first time she had really
had an opportunity to see all of them clearly; now, she could feel
a cold harsh chill running quickly up the length of her spine as
she studied the four negroes who were holding her prisoner.
Shorty, as his name implied, was slight of height. But not
really quite as much as he should have been to justify the
nickname. In fact, he was just about Susan's height, five feet
five. What he lacked in height, he certainly made up for in
build. He was broad and stocky, and as she studied him, she
remembered the way he had walked from the car to the cabin. It
had reminded her dimly of an ape with his long swinging arms that
were out of proportion to the rest of his body. It almost
appeared as though he could touch the ground without bending over
much farther than his natural stance. His face was thick and his
broad flat nose, of the central African type negro, set deeply
between his cheeks.
Coke, who had been her guardian in the kitchen, was tall and
thin with a slight pencil-type mustache that was currently so
popular with negro singers. His eyes stayed blatantly on her as
she moved around the table serving the others. There was an
innate cold cruelty in them that she couldn't really explain, but
she knew he had held it in check out of fear of Duke's rebuttal
and she found herself again grateful again for his presence,
fearing what would happen to her if he were not there.
Duke was a strong, well-built negro who carried himself with
an arrogant confidence befitting his position as gang chief. He
had long sensuous hands that she could still remember coursing
over her body as he had ravished her in the car. His nails were
long and sharp and she still winced slightly each time she moved
from the marks he had made on her body while he was stroking her.
He, too, had a certain cold aloofness about him that repulsed and
frightened her. It was almost as though he possessed nothing
what-so-ever in the way of human compassion. There was no doubt
of the tremendous strength he possessed; she could still feel the
welts from his finger on her hips and upper thighs where he had
grasped her when he was pulling himself into her.
Stitch was one of the most repulsive persons she had ever
seen. His build was much like Shorty, except that it was
completely out of proportion. He had a large oversized head that
seemed as though it belonged on a body many times the size of the
one he possessed. When he walked, the enlarged head tilted to one
side as though he could not support it and the slight limp he had
added to the off-balance physical effect. His eyes were small and
sunk deep in his head with the typical idiot half-smile always
playing across his mouth, even when he was angry or hurt.
She feared him more than all the rest of them. At least the
others looked half human and might have some reasoning power left
in them, but not Stitch. There would be no reasoning or mercy if
she ever came under his power. It was unpredictable what he might
do if his natural instincts were unleashed from the accepted human
restrictions now placed on him.
She finished filling the plates and stood back a few feet
from the table with the dishes still in her hand, watching them
eat silently with their thoughts. And, there could be no doubt
what these thoughts were about. She could detect each of them in
turn staring at her out of the corners of their eyes with hungry
animalistic gazes that could mean only one thing.
She kept her eyes on Duke as she cowered back from the table.
The firelight now burned brightly, elongating weird silhouettes of
his profile across the cabin floor. Out of grim necessity, she
had accepted him as protector, and for the first time in her young
life began to understand more behind the reasoning of the survival
of the human race. A few short hours ago, she had been a
sheltered and innocent girl, who believed in all the things she
had learned about the inviolability of the virgin female form, and
how it would be and should be protected at all costs. Now, she
shared a sympathy with all abducted females since time began. The
tender young vestal virgins of the Roman Empire who were carried
off by the Huns from the north; the pioneer women who were carried
off to become the wives of savage Indians; and, the ravaged women
of Berlin after World War II. They all, from want of food or
protection from greater indignities, had accepted protectors that
they would have otherwise been repulsed by. It all became
ultimately a matter of what one had to choose from, and not what
one wanted to choose. The weakest had to choose the strongest of
their group for mere survival sake, providing of course, the
strongest wanted them. Duke wanted her now and she had no choice
if she were to escape the others. She had to give herself to him
or suffer a far worse fate at the hands of the likes of Shorty and
Stitch.
It was also apparent that Duke could feel the power he now
possessed over the young, naive white girl as he ate with a quiet
confidence, never once raising his eyes to look at her like the
others. He knew she was there and knew she was his, by virtue of
his leadership of the gang. His hold on her was his strength and
the protection he offered her.
"Git me some whiskey outta the box," he spoke for the first
time since beginning to eat, "and bring four glasses, no, bring
five. One for you, too, honky baby."
Susan went to the kitchen without hesitation and brought the
bottle back with the glasses and watched silently by his side as
he poured a drink out for all of them. He poured hers a little
more full than the others and pushed it toward her on the table.
"Drink it down without stopping," he commanded, reveling in
demonstrating his power over her to the others.
Susan raised the glass and took a small sip, feeling the hot
liquid burning all the way down to her stomach. It made her feel
slightly sick until she saw Duke's eyes glued to her out of the
corner of her eye, and she tilted the glass up again to take a
greater swallow. She almost coughed it up, but with a supreme
effort, managed to hold it down. A faint light-headedness swirled
through her as she raised the glass again and turned it bottom-up,
finishing the warm fluid to the last drop.
"S-S-She d-done it," Stitch said with a gleeful ring to his
voice.
"I told her to, didn't I," Duke said proudly. "She's gonna
be my chick and I don't wanna see none of you bastards layin' a
hand on 'er without my okay."
"Aw com'on now, Duke," Shorty protested. "We gotta right
too, we all took her together."
"I got the right, remember the club rules," Duke cut him off.
"The Chief Leopard gits first choice on all the spoils o' war."
"She ain't no spoil o' war," Coke remonstrated hesitantly.
"We got 'er off the street."
"Man, that's the honky war. You heard what cats like Stokley
Carmichael and Rap Brown say; we're at war with them honkies. Why
you think we're heah, boy?"
"She ain't no part o' it, Duke," Shorty objected again.
Susan could see that they were pushing him for all it was worth,
and clenched tightly to the empty glass in her hand as the tension
between them grew. She knew that the result of this little play
of words could decide her fate for the night and she prayed with
all her heart that Duke would be strong enough to hold them off.
"She's a honky, ain't she," Duke answered, 'lemmne show ya
what I mean, man."
He rose from his chair and grabbed Susan by the arm, pushing
her roughly over to the fireplace. Though it appeared to the
others that he was hurting her, she could feel a certain restraint
in his movement that almost bordered on gentleness. She
understood that he had to be firm in front of the others to
maintain his status, and she let herself be carried limply along
with him across the room.
"Now you cats take a look and see if you don't think she's a
honky."
With that he reached to the back of Susan's tattered gown and
ripped it down the hack in one mighty jerk. The flimsy material
split without effort and floated uselessly to the floor.
She gasped when she realized what he had done and tried
desperately to recover the last remnants of clothing she had left
to cover her nude body.
"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