Garth tensed the muscles in his ass cheeks. He pressed his manly buttocks together as tightly as he could get them – and he began to push.
Tammy cried out in pain and felt tears welling in her dark brown eyes as her asshole was forced open to take his purple glans. She could feel all of the puckers in her asshole being smoothed.
Her ass felt like it was going to tear wide open by the time the man got the head of his dick in her. But he did not stop pushing there. No way. The man had every intention of getting his whole prick in her ass – and he didn't give a shit one way or the other how much he hurt her in the process. He pushed his pole past her sphincter and into her colon. He pushed until the tip of his cock was throbbing against the pit of her bowels – the smelliest core of Tammy's womanhood.
She was a sandwich.
A Tammy sandwich on stud.
She had two cocks in her and she felt like she was ready to burst – and there was still one cock left to go. She looked forward through tear-filled eyes and she say Peter Thompson with his pants all the way down around his ankles, struggling to get up onto the table.
Peter finally moved to a kneeling position in front of Tammy's head. The little girl straightened her neck and opened her mouth wide for him like a good little slave.
Peter didn't like the whip – but that didn't mean he didn't get in a mean mood every now and again. This happened to be one of those times. He began to slap the little girl across the face with his stiff meat.
He just wanted to degrade her and humiliate her more than she was already. Peter then placed his hands on top of her head. He ran his fingers across her scalp to the back of her neck.
He pressed his digits into the muscles at the nape of her neck hard enough to make the flesh pucker there. He hurt her in this fashion. She was making snorting noises through her flaring nostrils. She was sweating profusely.
Peter turned his wrists and moved his hands so that his palms were over the little girl's shell-like ears. He pinned her ears to the sides of her pretty head.
He made it very difficult for Tammy to hear anything at all. The things Tammy could hear sounded as if they were coming from far, far away.
He held her head so tightly that Tammy could no longer pull away from his with her head and shoulders – not even a fraction of an inch.
Peter clasped her head so tightly that the diminutive slave girl could no longer turn her face from side to side. The only direction she could move her face was forward – and that, of course, was the only direction that Peter Thompson was concerned with.
Her held her head stringently – as if he wanted to crush it like a grape. He pushed the head of his dick into her gaping mouth and she began to suck on it.
Tammy thought the man would be satisfied with having just the head of his cock sucked – like the way she pleasured Jonah with her hot mouth.
But this was not what Peter had in mind at all. Marvin and Garth were going to get to fuck their holes – and he wanted to get to fuck her mouth as well. He wanted to fuck her face with the entire length of his cock.
He told her this and she panicked for a moment. She knew there was no way he could ram his dick all the way down her gullet without hurting her badly.
She knew she was going to gag horribly. She felt his cock pushing into the back of her mouth and then down her throat. She gagged immediately and the tears that had already welled in her dark brown eyes began to stream down the sides of her face, over her cheekbones and her smooth cheeks. Tammy's face was stained by her tears – and she correctly assumed that that was going to happen each and every time a white man took her into the torture room.
She had to struggle to keep her teeth off of Peter's cock. She was scared of what might happen if she accidentally bit the man's pole.
He pushed and pushed. She realized that he was being pleasured by her pain in a couple of ways. He enjoyed the fact that he was hurting her, plus the spasms in her throat were squeezing at his rock-hard dick meat. Each time the little girl gagged the man's cock was given a sharp caress, sending magic fingers of masculine pleasure rolling up and down the entire length of his spine, all the way from his tailbone to the nape of his neck and then back down again.
Tammy could see through her tears that her nose was getting closer and closer to the thick patch of pubic hair growing above the base of Peter's cock.
She knew that once the man's pubic bush covered her nose she would be unable to breathe at all. She feared that he would suffocate her with his meat.
Indeed, he pushed until her lips gripped his cock at the hilt – Tammy could feel Peter Thompson's balls resting on her little black chin.
Three cocks at once. Her throat was on fire.
Then, Peter gave the cue that he was all the way in and the men began to fuck all at once. They all laughed because they remembered a time when this was a common practice, a time when they were all filled with the plethora of jism that comes with youth.
They pulled out together.
They stabbed into her together.
Their hip movements were in sync with one another.
They managed to keep their natural in and out fucking motion in sync with one another even as all three of them steadily increased the tempo of the triple fuck. They started out slowly but steadily increased the pace. She could feel her gullet being ravaged. She could feel her asshole being tugged out away from the rest of the cleavage between her buttocks so hard that it shocked her.
CHAPTER FOUR
Annabelle Cornfield always took a long time with her toilet each morning. She had to inspect herself and wash herself thoroughly before she could dress and make herself seen by the outside world.
No nook nor cranny went unexamined. No toenail unchecked. It was not uncommon for the woman to spend two hours in the john before she appeared downstairs demanding her breakfast from the slaves.
She had her own private bathroom – so no one cared how long she stayed in there. She had her own private bedroom, for that matter. It had been a very long time since she and Bernard had slept in the same room for a whole night.
After Annabelle asked her husband for her own room, he occasionally visited her there at night for a fuck – maybe twice a week or something like that.
But Annabelle, whose pussy was very precious, or so she thought, didn't care for the process of relieving his manly urges. She began to reject him – even though he only came into her room every once in a while.
She thought he was a sex maniac. It never occurred to her that it was HER libido that was out of sync with the rest of the world. She put out for Bernard about once a month as of late, and she thought that that should be enough to keep any man happy.
No, it never occurred to Annabelle that there was anything wrong with her. According to Annabelle she had never been wrong in her entire life.
According to Annabelle she was perfect in every way. Her Daddycakes had told her that when she was just a little girl – and she believed it to this very day.
Now Annabelle had sexual urges, for sure, but she did not relate them to her husband, his cock and balls, or his needs. Her urges were her own – and she had discovered that her horniness was best appeased by her own hand.
Annabelle washed her hands three times after jerking herself off when she masturbated. She could not stand the thought of having that dreadful cunty smell on her fingers.
Annabelle was a cleanliness freak – what Sigmund Freud would have called an anal compulsive. She became nervous if she saw a cigar ash in an ashtray – and would immediately order one of the slaves to empty and wash out the tray so she would not have to look at the filth.
Annabelle douched herself three times a day – as many times as she brushed her teeth. She wouldn't admit, not even to herself, that she douched frequently because she thought it felt good.