index


Message-ID: <42942asstr$1055581805@assm.asstr-mirror.org>
From: eroswriterxxx@aol.com (ErosWriterXXX)
Mime-Version: 1.0
Content-Transfer-Encoding: 8bit
Subject: {ASSM} Ravishment of Rachel Pt 1 of 2(wM+/bf, interr, rape, impreg)
Date: Sat, 14 Jun 2003 05:10:05 -0400
Path: assm.asstr-mirror.org!not-for-mail
Approved: <assm@asstr-mirror.org>
Newsgroups: alt.sex.stories.moderated,alt.sex.stories
Followup-To: alt.sex.stories.d

Ravishment of Rachel Pt 1 of 2
By ErosWriterXXX
(Set in the Ante-bellum South, a beautiful  young mulatta suffers ravishment at
the hands of a cruel master and his guests.)

[wM+/bf interr, rape, teen, virgin, oral, domination, very light bondage,
impreg]

Disclaimer: This story should not be read by minors or if it is illegal to do
so in your area. This story is a work of erotic fiction and fantasy and is not
meant to endorse or condone human slavery or non-consensual sex. Nor is it
meant to be a realistic depiction of the act of rape. If you don't like to read
about these things, then don't read it. Comments welcome, flame ignored. Do not
post on any pay sites. Copyright by author.

Rachel Coleman stared out the bay window in the dining room of the Harris
mansion watching the road that led from the train station. Even though it was
relatively cool in Virginia for a late summer's day, the house servants were
working up a sweat, all a bustle with final preparations for the arrival of
master Harris and his dinner guests.

Harris had put Rachel in charge of overseeing that the house  was ready for his
 business "soiree" as he put it. Rachel had just turned eighteen but the pretty
 petite mulatta had supervised formal social occasions for years for her
previous mistress, the late Miss Coleman.
. 
The spinster Miss Coleman had been very fond of her late brother's only
offspring, the fruit of his union with a beautiful dark skinned African slave
girl. Sadly, Rachel's mother died giving her birth. Not long after that her
father was killed when he was thrown from his prize thorough-bred when the
horse  was spooked by a rattlesnake, his head smashed against a rock. But in a
way, her father's death was the making of Rachel. Having died young, her father
had not yet married. So, unlike in many other Southern aristocratic  homes,
where the master had two families and one jealous wife, the spinster Miss
Coleman was presented with no obstacles to raising her brother's pretty
daughter in the old family mansion.

Living alone, aside from the  house servants, the overseer and field hands of
the estate, Miss Coleman showered  her niece with affection and attention.
Rumor had it that she had not only schooled the girl in etiquette but even
schooled her in literature as well, teaching her how to read. Everywhere that
the adventurous and worldly spinster went, Rachel accompanied her, once even
journeying to England and France when she was only sixteen. The freedom that
Rachel felt in those two countries where slavery was abolished had been
intoxicating, despite the prejudice. But in truth, when Rachel was abroad and
in public, many a white man was smitten with her charms which far surpassed
that of any so-called Southern Belle.

But those halcyon days had ended with the death of her beloved aunt. On her
death bed, Aunt Nellie  had told Rachel not to worry, that her future was
assured. She had specified in her will that Rachel was to be manumitted to
freedom and that she was to receive a large inheritance from the proceeds of
the sale of the plantation.

Unfortunately, Rachel soon discovered, much to her dismay, that Aunt Nellie had
never signed the will in the presence of a lawyer and that it was therefore
completely invalid. The debts of the estate were large but were assumed by a
Mr. William Harris, a distant cousin of Aunt Nellie and her only living
relation outside of Rachel. As Rachel was legally still property, Mr. Harris
acquired her likewise when he took over the Coleman plantation.


Harris made it clear that although he and Rachel might be distantly related,
she was nothing more than his property. She would stay in the house and
supervise his social functions, making sure that the place settings, wine and
dinner menus matched the social standing of his guests.

That had been several months ago. Now Rachel busied herself supervising the
last minute preparations for his soiree. She strolled from room to room making
sure that the place settings in the dining room were exact, that the  food
preparation in the kitchen was on schedule and that only the best wines and
brandies were being brought up from the cellar.

At last a servant alerted her that the carriage had been spotted coming up the
road. All was in place. Rachel hurried through the dining room to the main
door. The house servants were already lined up in two rows flanking the door.
Rachel assumed a station on the right at the end.

Harris entered with four guests, a banker, a railroad president, a lawyer and a
handsome young English shipper.  The shipper, a Mr. John Bell produced a gift
for Harris, a set of matched Navy Colt pistols.  Harris accepted them
graciously, giving them to a servant to put away.  Then Harris led Rachel and
his guests into the dining room. 

Midway in the meal, conversation began to take a lively turn.

"So what do you value most Mr. Bell?" the lawyer inquired almost
disinterestedly, "Justice or mercy?"

Bell's reply was quick and sure. "Justice must be tempered by mercy, sir, or
else there is no justice at all."

 From the end of the table, Rachel suddenly spoke.

"The quality of mercy is not strain'd; It droppeth as the gentle rain from
heaven upon the place beneath."

The Englishman smiled with recognition and finished the refrain.
 "  -~It is twice bless'd; It blesseth him that gives and him that takes.'
Portia's speech from  Act IV of The Merchant of Venice,"

"Yes," Rachel nodded, smiling back, her dimples flashing. " 'Though justice be
thy plea consider this---that in the course of justice none of us should see
salvation: we do pray for mercy; And that same prayer doth teach us all to
render the deeds of mercy.' "

"So you are familiar with the works of the bard Miss Coleman?"

"Oh yes, I've read --that is, I've seen most of the plays at least once --when
I was in London."

"Really? You know I believe William Shakespeare, though he's been dead some two
and a half centuries now, still has the power to look into our very souls with
his poetry and tell us more about our selves in a single evening than most of
us are lucky to comprehend in a single lifetime."

Rachel smiled and raised her wine glass to her lips. "If you prick us do we not
bleed? If you tickle us do we not laugh? If you poison us do we not die? And if
you wrong us shall we not revenge?"

"Ah yes, Shylock, from The Merchant of Venice again, Act III, scene I. You have
a most remarkable memory Miss Coleman, for only having seen a play once."

"It was a most memorable experience Mr. Bell."

Harris snorted.

"So are you married Mr. Bell?" Rachel attempted to discretely inquire, peering
past the two men to her left, craning her neck ever so slightly so as to see
the Englishman's face.

Bell coughed. He seemed caught off guard.

"Why..uh..no I'm not. Never seemed to have found the right woman I suppose. In
my business it is all accounting and books, schedules and manifests, log
entries, that sort of thing. Shipping takes up an inordinate amount of my time.
And I must say frankly that the ladies I've met up until now seem far too
preoccupied with balls, frivolities and the like. Not the finer things in life;
music, literature."

"And not Shakespeare?" Rachel inquired coquettishly.

He grinned shyly.

"No, not Shakespeare. Not at all like you Miss Coleman."

"Why thank you sir."

Bell was not given to impetuous acts but the wine and most of all  the
intelligence, beauty and charm of Miss Coleman was having a decidedly
exhilarating effect upon him. He pushed his chair back and wine glass in hand,
rose to exuberantly proclaim,

"Gentlemen, I give you Miss Coleman, the hostess of our evening whose charm,
beauty, grace and good taste are surpassed by none."

Harris, almost quietly snorted, then said, "Sure, why not?" and likewise rose
to his feet, glass in hand.

"Miss Coleman," Harris slurred her name, casting a leer in her direction.
Rachel averted her eyes from his stare, even as the other three men followed
Harris's lead and rose in toast.

"Miss Coleman!" they all chorused in unison.

As they sat back down, Bell noticed that Rachel seemed somewhat unnerved by the
toast and kept glancing at Harris. Somewhat unexpectedly she stood up and
excused herself from the table. She began taking up empty plates. The
Englishman was about to rise from his seat, not wishing to be seated while a
lady stood. But just as she picked up her own plate Harris spoke.

"That won't be necessary Rachel."
 
Rachel gave him a puzzled look but set down the plates in a neat stack.
 
"Then may I at least be excused?"

"You certainly may not. Go stand by the window."

Rachel lowered her eyes, put her plate down, turned and silently walked to the
big bay window that faced the distant hills beyond the river. Long rays of the
afternoon sun brought a blessed warmth to her pretty face and delicate hands
that had begun to be slightly chilled by her new master's strange behavior.

She gazed fondly at the horizon where the hills seemed enveloped in purple
shadows. When she was a little girl this had been her favorite place to play
with her dolls in the afternoon. Then those hills had held the future promise
of a world beyond, a world for her. No more.  Ah, if only she was far, far away
from this place. Oh how she longed for freedom.

"Turn around and face us girl!"

A rude order. Sighing, Rachel turned toward Harris and his four dinner guests.
Brilliant sunlight framed her lovely shoulder length curly black tresses.
Harris smiled.

"Now Rachel  -- take your clothes off --slowly."

What had he said? Take her clothes off? That couldn't be right. Was she to be
sold to one of these men, like a field hand on the auction block? She had never
been sold before. Hadn't Auntie Nell stipulated in her will that her niece was
never to be sold?

"Are you deaf girl? I said strip! Now! And take your sweet time about it too."

Rachel's lower jaw began to tremble ever so slightly.

"Please Master Harris, I --" she began, the first sign of tears welling in her
eyes.

"Don't give me any lip girl. Just do it. You don't want to make me go get my
buggy whip now. Do you?"

Rachel's eyes filled with fear. No whip had ever touched her fine soft brown
skin in her entire life. She shook her head.

"No --please, master. I'll --"

"That is quite enough, sir," the Englishman suddenly stood up, his voice
shaking with indignation. "I will not be a participant in these barbarities. If
this young lady --"

Harris pivoted in his chair toward the London shipper, his eyes blazing with
anger.

 "And you sir, will hold your tongue. You are a guest in my house as well as my
country. If this part of our little soiree is not to your liking you may take
your leave of my house --as well as my business."

The Englishman's face was beet red with rage and for an interminably long time
he stared hatefully at Harris until the anger in his faced transformed into
humiliated resignation.  Mumbling something that sounded like "my apologies", 
he sat back down. Harris smiled triumphantly and sipped his brandy.

"My apologies as well sir," the plantation owner said graciously "for
inadvertently leading you astray this evening. You may have been deceived by
this girl's dining at my table, by her fine dress, her dignified manner of
speech, not to mention her lovely light skin, into believing you were in the
presence of a lady. In fact, she is my slave. And for this evening she is yours
as well  -- our slave.

Now that we've cleared that up, I think nothing further need be said on this
subject. Let's enjoy this evening's entertainment and recreation."

Harris turned to Rachel.

"Come on Rachel, show us what we all long to see  -- more of that lovely light
skin of yours --much more."

Rachel pursed her beautiful sensuous lips. The men were all a blur to her now
as tears were copiously streaming down her cheeks. Could this really be
happening? Her whole body was trembling. She had never undressed in front of
any man before.

"Please, master --" she implored one last time.

"Rachel --" Harris intoned softly but expectantly.

All hope of reprieve gone, she cast her eyes to the floor and bit her lower lip
in resignation to her fate.  Slowly she reached behind to begin undoing the
buttons on the back of her dress.
 
Silence reigned in the room, broken only by the ponderous ticking of the wall
clock and Rachel's soft, pitiful sniffles. All that the four white men seated
at the table were able to hear was the blood pounding in their heads and their
own increasingly ragged heavy breathing. Their eyes were now transfixed upon
this lovely young mulatta beauty that was very soon going to be revealing all
her secret feminine charms to further excite their lust.

Rachel's fingers deftly worked their way up her back; the buttons popping free
one by one. When she reached the button just below her shoulder blades she had
to stop and bring her right hand around to the front and up over her shoulder.
She still couldn't reach the middle buttons so she pulled the dress up toward
her neck with her left hand and undid the top buttons with the right. Finally
she reached the neckline and the dress loosened. Slowly she pulled her left arm
out of its sleeve and then her right. The top of her dress fell around her
waist, exposing her white lace camisole.

She glanced up at the men. Their jaws were slack, their mouths gaped open and
their stares --their stares seemed to penetrate her very soul. Desperately, she
searched their faces, hoping for some small token of the sympathy for her
plight that the Englishman had earlier so gallantly spoke. None was there.
Their vacant eyes only bespoke the same expectant lust, that of seeing a pretty
light skinned black girl strip naked for their pleasure. The Englishman had at
least turned his back to the proceedings and was staring at the wall clock.

"Get on with it girl," Harris barked. "I said take your time, not all day."

Rachel swallowed a lump in her throat and briefly tossed her head back,
exposing her lovely long neck, then resumed stripping. Bending forward slightly
she pushed the hoop skirt and petticoat down over her shapely hips, revealing
her billowy bloomers. She paused, staring at the floor. Her camisole and
bloomers were all that remained of her dignity.

"Come on" Harris imperiously demanded, "take off the rest. Take it all off."

Rachel trembled again as she began undoing the hooks at the back of the
camisole top. As the last hook fell free, the camisole began sliding off her
slender shoulders. Instinctively she clutched the camisole in front of her
breasts to prevent herself being exposed.

"Drop your arms," Harris ordered.

"Please, master," Rachel pleaded, still sniffling.

"Drop your arms girl and let us have a good long look."

Obediently, Rachel dropped her arms to her side. The camisole quickly fell to
the floor, exposing her naked from the waist up. 

"Damn!" croaked one of the guests in a hoarse, dry mouthed whisper

Rachel's tits were perfect. Full, firm and round, they defiantly stuck straight
out from her chest, seemingly defying gravity. Her quarter-dollar size dark
brown areolae were capped by a pair of  inch long cylindrical nipples, both
fully hard.

The pendulum of the wall clock slowly ticked away as the men greedily devoured
this sumptuous visual feast of a half naked young mulatta, her pretty face,
delicate neck and shoulders, flat stomach and firm breasts all fully exposed to
view. One of the guests moaned.

"Oh God, I can't stand it anymore. Please tell her to take it all off. Make her
take it off, please." 

"Do it Rachel," Harris ordered, his own face red with lust. "But do it nice and
slow. Take your little bloomers off  for us real slow.  We want to watch your
tits dangling. And after that, step out of those shoes."

Reaching behind, she ever so slowly undid the few buttons at the back of her
last precious undergarment, then began inching it down over her hips and her
luscious thighs. Eyes followed the garment on its descent and paused long to
stare at her sparsely haired pussy mound. Rachel let the bloomers drop to the
floor. After that, she easily stepped out of her loose buckle shoes.

She just stood there trembling, her perfect, beautiful, brown skinned body
completely naked and exposed now to the gaping stares of these four hot-blooded
white men, their sinful hearts beating with ice cold lust.
 
The stocky banker whistled long and slow. When he spoke, his voice squeaked
like a rusty hinge.

"Mmm-mmm. Brown sugar. How about giving us all a little taste there Harris?
Your guests  haven't had dessert yet you know."

The railroad president chuckled in agreement.

"In good time sirs, all in good time." Harris admonished. "Turn around for us
Rachel, slowly of course."

Tears still running down her cheeks, Rachel swallowed and slowly began turning
in one place.

She was as perfect from behind as she was in front. Her fine, firm, heart
shaped ass was set off by her long, slender legs and the two dimples of
womanhood at the bottom of her back.

"Lovely," the railroad president whispered.

"Stop" Harris ordered "Just stand right there with your pretty backside to us."

Rachel was facing the window once more with the last rays of the setting sun
warming her beautiful caf�(C) au lait naked body. Was this the last humiliation
she hoped? Would they be done with her now? Couldn't they just let her put her
clothes on and leave? What had that man said, something about tasting dessert?
Behind her, she heard a chair squeak against the wood floor. Steps coming
toward her.

"Put your hands behind your back Rachel," Harris ordered.

Rachel moved her hands to the small of her back. As she did so, Harris withdrew
a long pink ribbon from the side pocket of his vest and gently but securely
tied her thumbs together.

"Learned this from a Chinaman in California" he said demonstratively as he
stepped aside to show his guests the lovely lightly bound black girl.

"Damn!" said the railroad station master, "That sure is a pretty ribbon. I'd
like to find that present under my tree for Christmas."

Harris and the lawyer and the banker all laughed agreeably, but not the
Englishman whose gaze was intent on the glass door of the wall clock, which
held a reflection of Rachel's naked beauty. Guiltily transfixed, his eyes
continuously and ravenously roamed up and down  the reflection of the lovely
girl's backside, visually consuming  her hour-glass figure, sexy legs and
pretty derriere.

"Turn around Rachel, we're going to feel you up now."

Harris motioned for his guests to come forward as Rachel turned to face them.
Chairs scraped as all but the Englishman got up and moved toward her. She
closed her eyes and turned her head to the left. Four pairs of hands began
groping her, gently but firmly squeezing her tits, pulling on her extended
nipples, caressing her outer and inner thighs, grabbing her ass cheeks. Fingers
probed her pussy lips and caressed her virgin hymen.

The banker got down on his knees and seizing her firm young buttocks with both
hands stuck his nose right in her crotch, inhaling deeply her female scent.

"God, I love the smell of fresh young mulatta pussy" he moaned. His tongue
flicked out from his mouth and he pressed it firmly against Rachel's vulva,
starting to lick her still closed labia from the bottom up, from fuck hole to
clit.

Harris was busy stroking and feeling Rachel's legs while the railroad president
and lawyer each  firmly cupped a tit in their hands and began gently sucking on
Rachel's two inch long nipples.

Rachel kept her eyes shut. These four men molesting her were disgusting but she
couldn't help but notice a pleasurable electric sensation surging through her
whole body. She began to feel a certain dampness growing in the space between
her legs.

The four horny old white men  all took turns squeezing her ass, sniffing her
pussy, licking her labia, sucking her tits and caressing the  silky brown skin,
legs and thighs of their young mulatta sex slave.


"God, this is the finest mulatta pussy I ever tasted," exclaimed the railroad
president, whose tongue was deeply probing and lapping Rachel's virgin slit.

"Hmmm. Great tits and nipples!" said the bank president as he gently nibbled on
her erect nipple then engulfed and sucked a larger portion of Rachel's left tit
in his mouth.

Harris gave Rachel's right tit a firm squeeze and was pleased to see her wince,
close her eyes and turn her head to the left.

"I think its time to try dessert boys," Harris leered as he produced a red
velvet tasseled cushion from a wooden box. Turning to the Englishman he said,
"Mr. Bell, since you don't seem enthused about our little soiree, you can wait
outside and have a cigar. But I fully expect you to participate in the second
half of our evening festivities. Otherwise I would have to assume that you are
not really a man. And I only do business with men."

Without even looking at him John Bell stood up and walked out the kitchen door.
Harris sneered at his departure then turned his attention back to Rachel.

"Kneel!" he commanded, throwing the red velvet cushion on the floor in front of
 her. Harris grabbed Rachel's shoulders and forced her  to kneel on the 
cushion.

He eyed the nervous young mulatta who was breathing rapidly.

"Now isn't that a pretty sight boys? Looks like she's ready to service us, I'd
say, wouldn't you?"

He began unbuttoning his fly. The three other men grinned and likewise began to
undo the front of their trousers. Rachel's eyes widened with fear as the stiff,
fully erect cocks and balls of the four horny old white men sprang into view. 

"Now you're going to suck us all off Rachel. Do you know what that means?"

Rachel mutely shook her head in fear.

Harris laughed. "Don't worry, you'll learn. Just open your mouth wide and suck
on whatever's in your mouth, but don't bite. And swallow when I tell you to." 

With that he grabbed Rachel's hair with his left hand and forced his stiff
white rod  against her pretty lips  with his right. Pre-cum was leaking out the
tip of his dick.

"Lick it girl, go ahead and lick it. Have yourself a little taste of cum.
There'll be a lot more for you to taste and swallow tonight before we're
through with you."

Rachel slid the tip of her tongue out between her pretty African lips and
flicked the opening of Harris's white dick. The pre-cum was sticky and thick
and tasted salty.

"Oh God" Harris moaned and pushed his dick past Rachel's lips and into her
mouth.

"Mmmph!" Rachel almost gagged as Harris forced the throbbing head of his prick
toward the back of  her throat. 

"Suck Rachel, suck!"

The other men began chanting, "Suck, suck, suck, suck!"

Protecting Harris' dick with her lips, Rachel began sucking and moving her
mouth along the quivering shaft. Harris kept a firm grip on her  shiny black
curls as the pretty mulatta pleasured him.

"Use your tongue girl, use your tongue!"

Rachel began flicking her tongue along the underside of Harris' shaft as she
bobbed her head back and forth along its length.

"God," Harris moaned, "You've got a natural born gift girl. Those lips of yours
were just made to wrap around a white man's cock!"

Harris began slowly thrusting into her mouth as she moved her head down his
shaft. The very thought and feel of this pretty, bound  and naked mulatta on
her knees sucking his dick was overwhelming.

As Rachel's lips moved down the end of his shaft, Harris suddenly found that he
couldn't contain himself any longer and exploded inside Rachel's mouth,
shooting gobs of thick white cum in the back of her throat. She almost gagged
as Harris pumped his seed down her throat, but she turned it to a swallow and
swallowed all of his load.

"Ahh, that's it you beautiful brown bitch, suck me dry, suck it all, swallow
all that white hot cum. Swallow it. Oh you suck so good."

When Rachel had completely sucked and swallowed the last gob of Harris' cum, he
pulled out of her mouth and motioned the lawyer over to take his place.

"Open wide honey," said the lawyer as he shoved his cock past Rachel's .pretty
lips. Rachel sucked them all off, one at a time on her knees, with her thumbs
tied behind her back. Each one  took his turn shooting his load into the mouth
of the young light skinned black beauty and she dutifully swallowed every drop.

As the last man buttoned his trousers, Harris spoke.

"Time to take her up stairs for the evening's piece de resistance, as the
French would say,"

Grabbing Rachel's right arm, he lifted her up and began walking the barefoot
slave girl toward the stairs that led up to his bedroom. All eyes were riveted
on the twitching of Rachel's sexy ass. Harris spoke over his shoulder to the
three men in the dining room.

"Tell that Englishman to come in here and wait upstairs with the rest of you.
He's number two after me."

Licking their lips at the thought of the pleasures that still lay ahead, the
men watched Harris lead Rachel's sexy naked body slowly up the staircase till
she disappeared from view. Then they went outside to fetch the Englishman.


The main feature of the bedroom that struck Rachel's eyes as Harris escorted
her inside, was the big brass bed against the wall. Harris walked her over to
the bed and forced her to sit, then he untied her thumbs.

"Lie back," he ordered, "and stretch your arms out above your head."

With much trepidation, Rachel did as she was told. Now Harris secured both of
Rachel's wrists securely to the brass bed with two more longer pink silk
ribbons that he produced from his coat pocket.. Taking off his coat and shirt, 
he climbed on the bed. Standing, positioned at her feet, Harris towered over
her. Slowly, he unbuttoned his pants. As he dropped them his fully erect penis
sprang to attention, vibrating up and down with the surge of blood flowing
through it, totally excited from the sight of this pretty nubile mulatta,
helpless and bound beneath his feet and ready to be raped. Rachel's eyes
widened with fear as she realized that the moment had arrived when Harris was
actually going to rape her.

 -~Please, please don't rape me," she begged.

Harris only leered and laughed.

"Rachel honey, you're eighteen years old. Its high time you got deflowered. and
broken in. If  I had owned you from the beginning, your virginity wouldn't have
lasted past fourteen. Raping you is just what we're all gonna do. We're gonna
rape and fuck you for the next two days. You'll be knocked up with a brat when
we're through with you, you hot little mulatta bitch. I'm gonna enjoy watching
that flat little belly of yours swell with my seed over the next nine months.
Your body was just made for fucking. And now I'm gonna pop that sweet little
black cherry of yours."

Rachel pulled on her silk bonds to no avail. Keeping her legs pressed tightly
together she began swinging her hips back and forth across the bed. But Harris
was too powerful. Kneeling, he simply grabbed first her left ankle and then her
right and effortlessly forced her legs apart, spreading her wide.

"Mmmm-mmm." Harris licked his lips, his eyes riveted on her fully open and
exposed virgin mulatta pussy, now revealed in all its glory. Still holding her
left ankle, he reached down and ran the tip of  his middle finger up and down
her virgin slit He held his finger to his nose and sniffed it as he would a
fine cigar. Then sucked on it.

"Young black virgin. Finger lickin' good."

Grabbing her legs with both hands again, he spread her even wider till her legs
were nearly  at right angles to her little body. Keeping her legs spread with
his knees, he positioned his cock at the top of her virgin slit and began
rubbing the head up and down her vulva.

"I've been waiting for this moment to fuck you ever since I laid eyes on you
Rachel. You are one hot little mulatta bitch. You're gonna be filled with white
cock and cum for the next two days at least. And then I'm gonna fuck you every
day after that. That smooth flat little belly of yours is gonna swell up with a
light skinned brat real soon."

With that he positioned the head of his dick over Rachel's virginal opening and
pushed hard. Rachel screamed with the pain as Harris's hard  white cock
ruthlessly violated her, ripping open her tender young flesh. Blood spurted
from her opening.   He was inside! His cock was buried inside this lovely young
mulatta slave girl. He had popped her little black cherry. The blood from her
torn hymen provided some lubrication as he insistently pushed his cock forward,
deeper into her virgin fuck hole. God  was she tight!

He loved to rape helpless young negresses and mulattas. The tight feel of  a
young black pussy, not yet fully wet, was incredible. He grinned as he watched
the pained reactions on Rachel's face The slightest move of his cock  inside
her tight, hot little pussy  made her grimace with pain. Deeper and deeper he
thrust inside her. She just kept tossing her head from side to side with every
thrust, making little noises, she kept repeating "No, no, please." Her pain and
humiliation was his pleasure.
 
But now her body began to take over from her mind and her pussy began to
lubricate, facilitating the entry of his cock deeper and deeper into her
vagina.
He loved it. She was the best  pussy he had ever had.

END Part 1

-- 
Pursuant to the Berne Convention, this work is copyright with all rights
reserved by its author unless explicitly indicated.
+---------------------------------------------------------------------------+
| alt.sex.stories.moderated ----- send stories to: <ckought69@hotmail.com> |
| FAQ: <http://assm.asstr-mirror.org/faq.html>  Moderator: <story-ckought69@hotmail.com> |
+---------------------------------------------------------------------------+
|Discuss this story and others in alt.sex.stories.d, look for subject {ASSD}|
|Archive at <http://assm.asstr-mirror.org>   Hosted by <http://www.asstr-mirror.org>      |
+---------------------------------------------------------------------------+