"I vas a poor country girl in Germany," Lotte said, feeling her limbs wax limp with inrushing fear. "But I had the gut fortune to marry an American who vas not so poor."
Newberry grinned contemptuously. "Yessir, these rich white Mister Charley's! They ain't satisfied with they own milky ofay cunts. They gots to lure our good lookin' black women onto the ends of they cocks 'n then go over to Europe and grab up you good lookin' forin cunts too. It's a good thing so many white womens in this country get raped. If it wasn't for that they wouldn't have no sex atall!"
Newberry laughed a deep, mirthful laugh that sent chills down Lotte's spine. There could be no doubt about his intentions now.
"I think you should better get out," Lotte said, pulling over to the curb and stopping the car. Her intention was to grab the door handle and jump out, leaving him with the car and her purse, but at least escaping with her life. She did not get the chance, however.
"See this?" Newberry said, and Lotte's eyes froze on the muzzle of the revolver he now pointed at her from his lap. "I think maybe you better cut the shit 'njus' keep on drivin'. You dig?"
Lotte pulled the car back onto the street. "I vill do as you say. It vill not be necessary to use the gun. "
"You gonna get a gun all right, cunt. One's bigger 'n blacker than this one!" He scooted across the seat to her so that their hips and thighs were touching. His coarse Levi's were uncomfortable against the tender flesh of her bare leg. He was still wet from the rain and the cold contact with her warm nudity below the hemline of her mini-skirt sent an icy chill down her spine.
"Where you want it?" Newberry asked with a lewd grin. "In the woods where you'll get'cher ass all muddy? Or how 'bouts your own pad? I ain't too fussy 'bout where I fuck you white cunts."
"Since I haf zee choice," Lotte said with a tightly-controlled, emotionless voice, "I prefer zee rape in a dry bed, if you don't mind."
"I was hopin' you'd say that. I don't like wrestlin' round in the cold mud myself. Now there ain't nobody else at your pad, is they? Like a husband or maid or somepin. Cause like they say, two's company 'n three's a crowd. 'N my trigger finger gets awful itchy in a crowd."
"There iss no one," Lotte said, this being Ilse's day off.
Newberry laid his hand on Lotte's thigh and squeezed with increasing pressure. "You 'n me's gonna have lots uh fun, Miss Lotta Money. I'se raped lots uh white cunts, 'n they all has a ball!"
A deep basso chuckle broke from his throat.
"You are hurting my leg," Lotte said, wincing from the pain of his vice-like grip.
"Sorry bout that," Newberry said, releasing the pressure on her thigh. "I sure 'nough don't want to spoil no merchandise. Not 'til it's out of the package, leastways."
When they reached Lotte's luxurious apartment building she parked the BMW in the underground garage and led the huge black man up the back stairway to her suite. Because of his size and the deadly revolver he carried in his jacket pocket, she did not even consider making an effort to escape. She resigned herself to the rape and robbery and hoped only to come out of the dangerous predicament with her life.
"You live high on the hog," Newberry said with a bitter contempt in his voice. "Maybe I ought to find me a rich white cunt to shack up with. You ain't thought of gettin' rid of your old man has you?"
Lotte led him into the bedroom without offering a reply and closed the door. "You vant I should remove my clothes?" she asked.
"I don't need no help," Newberry said. He grabbed the front of her blouse in his set of bear's paws and pulled it apart. Buttons flew across the room in every direction. With a couple more violent jerks the blouse was off and he flung it on the floor.
Lotte shivered as she stood before him, her breasts infinitely vulnerable inside the transparent pink brassiere. His enormous weight dwarfed her fragile body.
"You do not haf to be so rough," she said, tears beginning to swell in her eyes.
Newberry's lips curled into a satanic grin. "Don't start cryin' yet, Miss Lotta Money. I been treatin' you gentle so far!"
He licked his lips with anticipation as he stared at his beautiful captive's luscious tits. Lotte's own eyes were fastened to the huge bulge inside her vanquisher's pants. She had heard stories of the large cocks black men are supposed to have. And a black man of this enormous size! It terrified her to think of such a cock being thrust inside her body. Was it possible to hold such a monstrous weapon? And weapon was the only word she could think of to adequately describe it. Surely he would rip her tiny cunt apart!
Suddenly her captor inserted his fingers inside the straps of her bra and pulled the clasps apart with his strong hands. He flung the frail article across the room. Before Lotte knew what was happening he had grabbed her voluptuous tits in each of his hands. The animal strength of his fingers dug into the flesh muscles of her breasts with a terrible pain.
"Aaahhhh!" Lotte cried. "Don't. Please."
He iss crushing them, she told herself. Before he iss finished he vill rip my poor titties off!
The black tormentor's only response to her pleas was a broad, sadistic grin. He increased the vice-like pressure and said, "Unzip my fly, bitch. You scream one more time-'n I'll tear your ofay body apart. You dig?"
Lotte was in too much pain to say anything.
"You dig?" Newberry repeated, his fingers digging deeper into her bruised muscles.
"Ye… ye… yes," Lotte muttered after supreme effort.
"Good. Good. Now you do what I say 'n unzip my fly."
Lotte's numbed reflexes fumbled with the zipper. It stuck halfway down and she began to panic. The terrible pain in her breasts rippled like waves of electricity through the rest of her body. Finally the zipper was all the way down.
"Now unfasten my pants 'n pull um down. Then pull my drawers down too!"
She did as he ordered. Amidst her pain and terror his semi-erect cock seemed as large as she had imagined. It was perhaps seven inches long and as thick as a flashlight. It hung between his legs like the horses' cocks she had seen on her father's farm, except this one was black as night.
"Now blow me a tune, Miss Lotta Money," her tormentor growled. "Make me come inside your white trash mouth!"
As she took the heavy penile hose in both of her hands and raised it to her mouth, she felt his grip on her breasts suddenly vanish. Then she heard a metallic click as he slipped the revolver from his jacket pocket and cocked the hammer. He pressed the muzzle of the pistol to her forehead and said, "You better hum good, bitch. There ain't no tellin' what little flash of anger might tighten my finger on this here trigger."
Lotte was conscious of nothing but the cold steel pressure of the revolver against her forehead as she encircled the fleshy black bullet-shaped head of his prick with her mouth and began to suck. She gave him the blow-job of her life, knowing that her life depended on it. She slid her lips up and down the shaft of his thick dong, exerting a suction pressure with her cheeks and lightly chafing his aroused flesh with her teeth. His pelvis thrusts rammed the meaty prick far to the back of her throat.
After a while Lotte switched techniques. She held the cock in her hands and nibbled at the sensitive flesh on the underside, below the head. His prick jumped around in her hands like a powerful fire hose.
"Lawdy, Lawdy!" the black man groaned. "Jus' keep on keepin' on, honey. You oughta be sellin' this stuff on the street!"
Lotte was beginning to realize how she might buy her life from this ghetto monster. Perhaps she could make herself too valuable to be killed. Not by selling herself on the street as he suggested, but there were other, easier ways.
"My back hurts," she pleaded. "I vant to get on my knees."