STORY: Nigger's Girl - M/f, sort of BD, rough
John Simmons
to pass the time, taking up with an angry, sadistic Black ex-con who
will use her roughly and share her with his friends.
It was another scorcher. The patrol car’s tinny radio was playing
an old country tune as Dara slumped low in the front seat, weakly
fanning herself with an open comic book. A fly alighted on her bare arm
where it lay along the top of the door. She glanced at it idly, watching
as it crawled slowly and unevenly up the length of her arm, stopped,
then flew off.
Dara’s uniform shirt was open to the waist, revealing a tanned
belly and chest and the moist, tanned upper half of her breasts showing
above a lacy black bra. She rubbed perspiration off her forehead,
further matting her short blonde bangs back against the top of her head.
She wanted nothing more at that moment than to abandon her post
watching Highway One-Five and head for the Okanawi River, where she
could spend the rest of her afternoon shift immersed in its cool, clear
water. But that would have left her broke that evening, and stuck in her
overheated house with nothing to do. She needed to make a little money
to go out, to ease herself in the air conditioning of Joey’s Bar, or the
Fontana Roadhouse, to dance and drink and party and forget she was stuck
in a backwater town in a backwater county in backwater Mississippi.
And the only way that was going to happen was if she could catch
some tourist going by on Highway Fifteen and convince them they were
speeding, or at least that it’d be worth their while to hand her a ten
or even a twenty dollar bill so she’d let them go on about their way.
She had parked the old Chevy in behind the Coke billboard in the only
shade available, and had been waiting for an hour now without profit.
She shifted in the seat, grunting with the effort as she sat up a
little. Her thin khaki uniform trousers were plastered against her body
all the way down past the knees, and she sighed, scratching her thigh
idly and wondering again how people could spend their lives in Kainlen
County when they had the slightest choice.
The poor people she could understand, but there were plenty of rich
people in the county, even if rich, to Dara, meant people who could
afford to live somewhere else. It confounded her that they didn’t.
She opened the comic again and examined the lurid and colourful
drawings no schoolboy’s eyes were meant to see. For the comic was not
the kind meant for children. It was a translated Japanese comic
featuring lusciously naked young women with enormous eyes who, when not
beating up criminals, were being bound and sexually abused.
The page she was examining with considerable interest had the
heroine in chains bound to a complicated and fantastical piece of sexual
machinery which was violating all three of her orifices simultaneously
while she writhed in both outrage and sexual abandon.
Dara couldn’t help imagine herself on the device, and felt no
little excitement stirring in her loins as she stared at suction cups
affixed to the character’s enormous nipples, and the ridiculously large
sexual probes driving in and out of her writhing body.
She rubbed a hand over her face, wiping off more perspiration, then
ran her damp fingers down along her chest to the well-exposed cleavage
between the half-cups of her bra. She stroked the soft, glistening flesh
of her upper breasts and felt an almost instant thrum of mild excitement
between her thighs.
The heat of the day argued against it but her arousal won over. Her
fingers eased beneath the black lace of her left cup, slipping in across
her soft nipple and stroking gently. She let the edge of her rough
thumbnail scratch softly along the sensitive pink button, then plucked
it and twisted it enough to cause a sharp sting as it began to heat and
stiffen.
There were very few safe outlets for sexual hunger for a girl in
Kainlen County. Everyone pretty much knew everyone else and gossip was
their favourite pastime. It was a rural county and very conservative, in
the heart of Baptist country. Dara had been as discrete as a virgin in
all but her attitude and dress, and no one could say with any degree of
reliability that she was anything other than a virgin.
That didn’t stop the rumours, and her forthright attitude and
revealing clothes had gotten her marked as a tramp from a very young
age. The suspicious eyes of the churchgoers followed her wherever she
went, suspecting her of all manner of nefarious activities and impious
thoughts.
But they didn’t have a thing on her. Dara grinned softly and a
trifle smugly at that thought. She was six feet tall, athletic and
blonde, with a trim waist, rounded hips and a generous bustline to go
with her cocky attitude. Because of that she’d been pursued by every
male she’d come across for almost ten years, including a lot of those
pious churchgoers, and not a one had gotten a sniff - so far as anyone
could tell.
No, Dara had been discreet. She’d been careful to leave the county
on those occasions when she was feeling too wild and alive and seductive
to keep control of herself. And then there was the truck stop on Old
Highway Nine. Truckers could gossip all they liked so long as they did
it far from her.
Her hand was firmly inside the cup now, her knuckles straining the
material as she kneaded her breast gently and stroking her thumb back
and forth across the erect nipple. She was feeling wild and hot,
sighing and spreading her legs as she ran both hands up to squeeze her
breasts. She was going to have to find someone discrete, maybe a married
man who couldn’t afford gossip any more than she could.
She tugged the cups of her bra down to bare her breasts, feeling a
little crackle of sexual electricity run through them as she looked
lazily around. Her nipples were firmly erect and she rolled them lightly
between her thumb and forefingers as she felt the thrum in her loins
grow stronger. She ran a hand down between her thighs and across the
thin material of her trousers which covered her mons, squeezing lightly.
She looked around again, feeling cocky and daring, and undid the
belt buckle holding her gun belt around her hips, then opened the buckle
of her trouser belt and finally the trousers themselves, pulling the zip
down and raising her bottom to peel the sticky fabric down her thighs,
and, after a breathless moment of indecision, kicked off her shoes and
pulled them entirely off.
She fingered herself within the dark lace of her thong, her
breathing coming faster with each passing moment. She had an
exhibitionistic nature she had been fighting since puberty, and being
nearly nude out of doors by the side of the road was adding heavily to
her inner heat.
She slipped the thong down her long legs, then unclipped her bra
and shrugged off her uniform shirt. She wanted to be completely nude,
and a little wicked shock of sexual electricity made her shudder when
she was.
Fifty feet ahead of her a car drove past, just beneath the speed
limit, the driver gazing at the patrol car as he passed, but seeing only
her head as she slumped lower.
Dara drew her knees back and spread them wide as she slumped down.
Her finger began to stroke up and down between the tight lips of her
labia, and she gasped and involuntarily rolled her hips as it passed
across her clitoris.
She propped the comic book on the steering wheel and stared at the
pictures as the comic book girl was “tortured”, placing herself into the
same position, gasping as she thrust first one, then two fingers deep
within the tight, elastic folds of her sex.
She pulled back her hand, fumbling for the contents of the gun
belt, and drew out the long, thick nightstick. Sweat was beading across
the surface of her body now as inner heat met the searing humidity of
the day, but she didn’t care. She positioned the end of the club at her
entrance and slowly pushed it into her body.
It was thicker than any male organ she’d ever had, but her heat and
wetness allowed it easy entrance, despite the sharp, tight ache of her
pussy lips as they were forced in and back.
The machine chugged softly and she moaned as the straps dug into
her thighs and ankles and wrists. She was bound bent over a machine, her
bottom high, legs spread. She groaned as the two enormous probes thrust
back and forth inside her abdomen, feeling the heat pouring through her
body as she was remorselessly pounded.
Her nipples sparkled with excitement and heat as the two sucking
devices pulled and twisted, and the nimble, rubber tipped metallic
fingers kneaded and squeezed them. Ahead of her the long, thick rubber
probe pushed forward into her mouth, driving deep into her throat.
Dara groaned as she pushed the nightstick in. It had to hurt, at
least a little, and she forced it in against her cervix so that she
ached, imagining it was the machine abusing her. She stroked her finger
against her clitoris as she pulled the nightstick back, then thrust it
painfully deep once again.
Her hand jerked away momentarily as she flipped the page, and her
eyes lit as she saw the menacing character come up behind the bound
heroine and bring down a many thonged flog on her bottom.
Her bottom burned with pain as the two probes continued to thrust
in and out. Both were immense things, covered with studs and ticklers,
pounding in and out so that her insides twisted and shook. And now the
thongs of the flog lashed her sex and thighs as she moaned into the
probe pumping inside her mouth.
Dara’s head rolled from side to side, and her breathing became more
and more ragged as she pumped the nightstick inside her sex. It hurt,
but the pain was only an added excitement as sweat trickled down her
body and her arousal deepened into a feverish desire.
Her legs were spread wide, the tendons in her thighs straining,
aching, as her head rolled from side to side.
And then a car horn popped her eyes open and brought her head
whipping aside and she saw another patrol car coming up the road. Shock
hit her system, and she froze for a long instant, then her hands clawed
at her uniform top, yanking it over her shoulders and jamming her arms
down the sleeves, her fingers fumbling desperately with the buttons.
The car parked on the road, and Jerome Walker got lazily out of the
door, yawning and scratching his enormous belly.
Dara shoved her feet into the trousers and yanked them up her legs
as Jerome ambled over, gasping as she sat up a little straighter and
realized she still had her nightstick deep inside her abdomen. There was
no time to do anything about that as Jerome walked closer, so she simply
slid the trousers up over the thing and pulled them around her hips,
buttoning and doing the belt.
“Hey Dara.”
She wiped her arm across her dripping forehead before turning to
offer a feeble, tremulous grin at Jerome, gasping a little as the
nightstick twisted painfully in her belly.
“Jerome. This’s my spot,” she said, her voice a little too high and
fast.
“I know it. Hell, the whole office knows it,” he said. “No luck
fishin’ yet, huh?”
‘Nothing rich has come by,” she said, wincing again as she tried to
sit up straighter and the nightstick twisted deeper in her vitals. The
club was two feet long and she had half of that inside her. The other
half made a fairly noticeable outline down the side of her right trouser
leg if Jerome got too close and looked in.
“Nah, I think it’s too hot and the tourists have all stayed home.”
“Heat don’t affect the rich ones on account of they got air
conditioning,” he said wisely.
“Well, yeah.”
Go away, asshole!
He was easing closer, looking over the edge of her door. She
wondered if he’d noticed her braless state yet. Probably. They all
tended to stare at her chest whenever they could.
“What are you doin’ here then?”
“Bored. Thought I’d see if you’d found anything. If you had I was
gonna park here and see what else was around.”
“Well, nothing, but uh, you can have it anyways,” she said.
If she didn’t leave Jerome would stick around for half an hour, and
the nightstick was aching her insides something fierce.
“I’m gonna try a new spot I found over on I-34,” she lied.
“Yeah? Where’s that?” he asked with interest.
“Never you mind,” she said, starting the car. “I can’t let everyone
know where the best fishing is, now can I?”
He made a face. “If it was so good what were you doin’ here?”
“I’ll see you later,” she said, stepping on the gas and backing away.
She gasped as the car jounced on the rough ground and she twisted
herself even harder against the club. Her belly was on fire now, and she
imagined the thing jamming all the way up into her chest and how she’d
explain that to the doctors.
She groaned as the cars finally hit the pavement and quickly sped
up, slumping and twisting her body to one side, gritting her teeth
against the pain as she tried to ease the pressure on the thick club.
As soon as she was out of sight of Jerome she pulled over, slumping
down low and yanking down her trousers. She grasped the club and slowly,
gently tugged it out of her pussy, groaning in an almost sensual relief
as the pain faded and she felt her pussy sleeve closing behind the
withdrawing club.
She drew it out completely, closing her eyes and shaking her head
as she brought it upright and stared at it. The part which had been
driven inside her was marked fairly cleanly by the darkness of the
moistened wood and she stared at it in no small satisfaction. With the
pain gone her arousal returned almost full force, and she tried to
mentally measure how much of the thing she had succeeded in taking, then
gave it up and dropped it on the seat.
She debated going on to the new spot she had found to feed on
tourists, which was not, of course, on I-34, but decided against it.
The hell with the tourists, she thought. She needed to find
someplace more private, some place to quench the fires inside herself.
She pulled up her trousers and leaned forward, starting the car,
then slowly pulled out onto the road and headed up the highway. A mile
along she turned down an old dirt road that led to the abandoned
Breckenridge mine. She expected it to be empty and was both surprised
and irritated to see a figure walking some distance ahead.
She slowed, scowling. The figure was walking away from her, but
towards the pond she’d wanted to turn off at. As she drew closer she
recognized the figure. It was Emery.
Emery, she remembered, had a tiny farm out this way. She hadn’t
known it was on this road, though.
Troublemaker, the Sheriff had called him. Big and mean and violent.
He’d killed a man once, and served ten years on a state work farm.
The car rolled up behind him and she slowed to a walking pace that
matched his. Emery was stripped to the waist. He had no shoes either,
and his pants were ragged.
Tight, and ragged.
He was a mountain of a man, a former blacksmith with enormous
shoulders and a shaved head. He was about twice her twenty two years,
and aside from his time in prison he’d spent all his life in Kainlen
County, working his little farm out on the edge of the woods, alone. He
had no wife, no kids, and as far as she knew, no friends.
He didn’t look around as she drove along behind him, not even once.
The sun beat down on him as he walked. His nearly naked body glistened
with sweat.
Dara licked her lips as she followed, then stopped, appalled and
shocked at her reaction to him. She was about as liberal and daring as
Kainlen County had, but she was still a girl born and bred in rural
Mississippi.
And Emery was Black, Black as the ace of spades.
Kainlen’s Blacks and Whites lived in an uneasy peace, caused mainly
by their separation. Aside from those Blacks who worked in White
businesses or on White farms or in White houses, the races just didn’t
mix. That was the way it’d always been in Kainlen, and as far as anyone
could tell that was the way it would always be. Every little village and
town had its White areas and its Black areas, its White stores and its
Black stores. Segregation was illegal, of course, but you couldn’t force
people to live together and so they didn’t.
She’d only seen Emery once before, when the Sheriff - her uncle -
had pointed him out to her as a troublemaker. He was a sullen, dour
faced man with suspicious eyes and a mean streak. He didn’t mix with
Blacks, never mind Whites, and kept pretty much to himself. Any woman
who even considered involving herself with him was insane.
Yet Dara had felt an instant heat at the sight of his big
glistening body, captured by the raw animal maleness of him as he walked
along in front of her.
She pulled her uniform blouse up and quickly buttoned it, then
roughly shoved the hair back from her face and wiped her moist face.
Emery just kept on walking.
Dara watched, heart pounding, then stepped on the gas again and
started the car forward. Once again she rolled up behind him and
maintained the same steady pace as he did, fighting to control her
breathing as the Chevy rolled slowly along.
Finally he turned to look, giving her a sullen glare. Then he
turned his head forward once more and ignored her. She waited for him to
look back again, nervously, angrily, or at least curiously, but he never
did.
Dara was sweating even more heavily now, her mind filled with
turmoil. Doing it with a Black man at all was - shocking - to a Kainlen
County girl, but with Emery?
Had Emery even had a woman since he’d gotten out of prison? What
woman would dare be alone with him? Or did he even want women? What
would he do with a woman? Rape her? Beat her? Kill her?
And yet as he walked along, that tight bottom swaying, those
muscular shoulders glistening in the sunlight, she thought about being
beneath him and her legs turned to jelly, her stomach fluttered and her
chest tightened so she could hardly breath.
Rough sex? She’d had rough sex many times. She liked her sex rough
and wild and passionate. But what would sex be like with a man like Emery?
Her foot pressed a little harder on the gas pedal, and she turned
the wheel over, curving the Chevy in alongside him as he walked. She
stopped just ahead of him, and put her head out the window.
“Hey there,” she said, her voice almost steady.
He didn’t speak, didn’t even turn to look at her. But he did stop.
“Hot day.”
Emery looked down the road, jaw set.
“Wouldn’t like a ride, would yah?” she asked, her voice quavering
slightly.
At that Emery slowly turned to face her. He was right next to the
door and she found herself facing his crotch. His ragged pants were
tight across his groin and she saw the thickness of what lay within with
an almost dreamy state of awe. Surely he couldn’t be that big. He must
have something else in there.
She suddenly found herself breathless, her heart pounding, her mind
whirling at the ridiculousness of the emotions rolling through her body.
Emery was not any kind of a man to be lusting after, any kind of man to
even be alone with, not for any kind of woman and particularly not for a
white woman who was the Sheriff’s niece wearing a county deputy’s uniform.
It seemed like an eternity before she was able to raise her eyes
from his bulging groin to the dark angry eyes in the midst of that
sullen face. And even as she did he reached down with a massive hand and
caught at the back of her head. She didn’t have time to struggle or even
react before his other hand was at the front of his pants, yanking down
the zipper.
Shock rolled over her, shock, an almost desperate arousal, and a
fear that had her insides turning liquid.
And then he had his erection out, and despite the fear she stared
with awe. It was enormous, thick as her wrist, long, and purple veined.
Oh my God!
She stared wide-eyed and slack jawed, and he pulled her head
forward and thrust his hips against her. In an instant his manhood
rammed forward into her open mouth. Dara felt her jaw forced wider and
wider, painfully wide, as his steel-hard cock drove forward and filled
her oral cavity
Dara was a tough girl. She’d put big men down with a single punch,
and everyone in the County knew to stay well out of the long range of
her knee if they were going to say anything impolite in her company.
Dara was not a girl to be bullied or mocked or forced into doing
anything she didn’t have a mind to do.
And yet as that massive organ slowly forced her lips achingly wider
and crushed her tongue against the bottom of her mouth all she could do
was slap against his belly and stare in shock as inch after inch was
forced through her straining lips.
It filled her mouth from top to bottom and side to side, and she
could feel the thick veins sliding across her tongue and the roof of her
mouth at the same time as his big hand pulled her head and shoulders out
the window.
She looked up frantically to see those dark, angry eyes on her, and
moaned helplessly as his lips had curled into a cruel smile. She felt
like a rag doll in the hands of a giant, and strangely, a roaring heat
gripped her at that helplessness, and she almost instinctively began to
suck on the big cock filling her mouth. His smile grew, and he thrust
deeper so that she gagged.
He drew back slowly, then pushed forward once again, fucking her
with a slow, deliberate, almost casual pace as she gurgled and gagged
and moaned around the sweating male meat filling her mouth. She
struggled but she didn’t even try to fight, didn’t even think to. All
she could think was how enormous his cock was, how thick and long and
gorgeous and wickedly black it was.
And her body seemed to go limp, leaning out the window, sucking on
him as pumped slowly in and out. She tried to work her tongue against
the underside of the head but he was too thick. She could hardly move,
and he was too deep inside her.
Her jaw ached as that monster cock of his pushed in and out, in and
out, in and out. His big hand held her head in place with casual
contempt as he used her and her own hands weren’t even trying to fight
him now, but gripping him to hold herself steady, pulled halfway out the
window as she was.
Each time he pushed forward he forced the fat helmeted head deep
enough to cause her to gag, as if taunting her, only to pull back.
And then, suddenly, he didn’t.
Her body jerked violently and she slapped against his belly again
as he thrust forward while pulling on her head. That big mushroom had
made her gag, but this time kept moving forward, and Dara could feel the
narrow passage of her throat invaded by Emery’s monster cock.
It forced the tube wider, strained the elastic flesh as it pushed
deeper and deeper. And the world seemed to take on a foggy tone as she
watched his abdomen get closer and closer, until her face was jammed up
against it and his cock was buried in her throat.
It ached.
But again she found she couldn’t fight him, couldn’t even try to
fight him, and went oddly limp in his grasp as he ground his pelvis
against her. Her throat burned, and her head throbbed for lack of air.
Her chest pounded and her heart raced. But then slowly he drew back,
pulling that thick, slick male erection backwards, letting light into
her eyes again, light enough to watch that glistening cock sliding out,
inch after inch.
The head came out of her throat with an almost audible pop, and she
coughed and choked and gasped for breath as he held her in place. Saliva
gushed out as he pulled his gleaming cockhead free and rubbed it across
her face, and she coughed and gasped and gulped in air as he waited
patiently.
Then he forced it into her gaping mouth again, and when her eyes
looked upwards, beseeching him not to go further, she saw his sneer of
contempt again, and his cock pushed deep.
Again she felt that monstrous prick forcing its way down her
throat, scraping firmly along the bulging airway of her neck as it
pushed deeper. Again she found her face pressed up against his abdomen,
his cock deep in her aching throat, down into her very chest. He held
her there a long minute, then pulled back. Only this time he began to
use her, pumping in and out, using her throat for his pleasure as she
choked and gurgled and fought nausea.
She could feel every movement of his thick, heavily veined cock as
it slid up and down inside her throat, and found all her focus narrowing
to that painful, uncomfortable sensation.
And yet, as it continued she felt oddly exhilarated. She had often
wanted to deep throat men but never been able to force herself. Now she
knew she had done it, could do it.
Or maybe it was the dazed state of her mind, growing dizzy and
cloudy from lack of oxygen.
She found she could tell the difference in thickness between the
helmeted head and the shaft that followed, could sense the head as a
thicker lump in her throat and follow its movement up and down and up
and down.
She was becoming light headed.
Just as she’d thought she would pass out for lack of air he pulled
free - and came. He came a gallon, pouring his silvery white semen into
her mouth so it overflowed and dribbled down her chin and then drawing
back to spit wad after wad over her face.
Then he let her go and she half hung out of the door of the car,
gasping and choking and gripping her aching throat in both hands as he
turned and walked away. She stared dazedly at the dirt beneath her, then
managed to pull herself back up and fall back into the patrol car. She
lay on the seat, drawing in deep, quivering breaths of air as she rubbed
at her throat, her chest heaving.
When she cleared her mind and vision enough to sit up he was well
out in front of her, walking along in the same deliberate pace he had
been when she’d first seen him.
And he didn’t bother to look back.
She gaped at him, still coughing, rubbing her sore throat,
swallowing again and again as she gulped in deep, shaky breaths and
watched him walk away.
She stared at him until he disappeared in the distance, too shaken
and frightened to go after him. She was indignant, as well, and angry,
and sore, and embarrassed. And yet she still had a deep and burning lust
in her gut. Her breasts were still swollen with heat and need, her
nipples exquisitely sensitive. Her pussy was warm and moist so she knew
her thong would be clinging to the furrow between her legs.
“Bastard,” she whispered, her throat sore, voice gravelly.
She should go after him, should run him down, or handcuff him at
gun point, or make him strip, make him - .
But she quivered in anxiety at the thought of confronting him. What
if he thought so little of her he just ignored her? What if, satisfied,
sated, he just sneered at her in contempt and went right on walking?
Worse. What if he didn’t? What if he did take her, strip her naked,
use her like an animal, pummel her with his - enormous - powerful -
masculine body?
She shook her head dazedly. She was crazy. She turned and spat into
the dirt outside the patrol car then. She reached up and felt the wads
of semen across her face, and searched around for tissues, yanking them
up and wiping at her skin. Then, hands shaking, she turned the wheel and
the car around and drove unsteadily back to the highway. She stopped
there, her forehead on the steering wheel, eyes closed as she tried to
regain control.
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From the ebook: The Nigger's Girl (BDSM), by Argus
Argus books have been published by Virgin Nexus, Silver Moon, Star,
Olympia, Chimera, and Beeline. They are available at
http://www.ebookblue.com