"I will decide what to do and what not to do around here!"
"But you hurt me so badly. How can you enjoy it?"
"I enjoy it because I love you Tammy. This is how I love."
"Lord have mercy on my soul! Please don't do it!"
"You have taken my cock inside your pussy many times, Tammy."
"Yes, but you said you weren't going to use your cock."
"That's right! I am going to fuck you with my entire fist!"
"B-b-b-b-but why do you need that black leather glove?"
"Because I can't stand getting blood on my hands!!!!"
Down in the torture chamber – totally unaware of the fact that he had an audience – and a very important audience at that – Bernard went about his weekly task of abusing the littlest of his slaves.
He had put the black leather glove on his right fist and he had pressed in between the fingers to make sure it was on as snugly as Tammy Taylor had endured many things since she had been visiting her master's torture chamber. Her entire back, as well as his buttocks, showed the marks of his savage lash!
She had cried more tears than she cared to count – endured more agonies than should be suffered by a human being. The master had almost convinced her that she was not a human being, but just an animal. Almost. Tammy still had a soul and she knew it!
She was on the torture table on her back, her arms and legs cuffed in place. She was breathing very fast, making whimpering sounds of fear. She struggled against the cuffs, digging their sharp teeth deeper into the flesh at her wrists and her ankles. Her hands and her feet were darker than the rest of her body, blood forced into them.
He produced a small dish of animal grease slightly coagulated, gathered from the kitchen after the previous night's meal. He covered the leather glove with that slippery grease.
This was to be the lubrication.
He slapped three fingers of grease onto her clit and rubbed it all around her pussy, on her outer lips, her inner lips, in between her inner lips.
He ran the tips of his gloved fingers up and down the insides of the little black girl's thighs. He rubbed up and down her outer labia. For the umpteenth time since her arrival Tammy found herself praying that her cunt would get horny and swell and lubricate itself in spite of her fear.
She couldn't do it though. She could only get wet for Jonah – and that was all there was too it. Horniness and love were inseparable in the girl's mind. He could ram a tree trunk up her, and he could diddle her clit until he stiffened in the joints of his wiggling finger – but he was never going to get a moan of pleasure out of Tammy Taylor. To tell the truth, this didn't make any difference to Bernard Cornfield one way or the other. He was interested only in his own enjoyment, and he dug it when she screamed very loud with pain. When she was in real agony – as she would be soon – he was having the time of his life. He considered himself very lucky that he was in a healthy position with plenty of flesh black meat to abuse on a daily basis. Naturally, Tammy wasn't the only slave that visited the torture chamber. The man had called each and every one of his nigger girls down into the basement at one time or another. He had been known to be particularly cruel to the fat women and the pregnant woman. One little girl aborted right there on his torture table. He told her he was going to reach inside her and pull the baby out. She believed this was possible and did the job for him – her terror destroying her ability to carry life any longer.
He did something terrible to a fat woman strapped on her round belly once – and the woman had to wear diapers afterward because she could no longer control her bowel movements. She died shortly thereafter.
He didn't care.
She was fat and close to worthless. She wasn't going to drop any more kids and she ate more than her share. She was particularly dumb – even for a nigger, and couldn't seem to figure out the simplest of tasks. He was rather pleased when she kicked the bucket. Good for the plantation budget, was his thinking.
Tammy watched as the man turned his right gloved hand so that the palm was upward, facing the ceiling of the creepy, dimly illuminated torture chamber.
He worked the tip of his middle finger in between her inner cunt lips. He wiggled it around in the grease and pushed it a little deeper. He hooked that digit under the base of the little girl's pubic bone.
He let loose with a sharp snap of his strong wrist – and he drove his finger all the way into her pussy all at once. He felt her inner labia tugging his finger at the third knuckle. He wiggled the finger and moved it in and out. He covered her internal tissues with the animal grease.
He added his forefinger.
Then his ring finger.
He clustered those three digits together so that their tips looked like three corners of a small triangle. He twisted those fingers as he moved them in and out. Tammy tried desperately to relax the muscles at the sides of her vulva – but she found that all of her efforts were in vain due to the acuteness of her petrifying terror.
She knew that her cunt was going to be stretched further that it had ever been stretched before – much further than it was stretched by even Jonah's prick.
She whines with fear.
Sweat poured from her.
She could see him working his pinky into her pussy and she already felt as if her cunt were stretched further than it could go. Her mucous membranes were taut. Her clit was tiny and still buried beneath its protective sheath of flesh. She could feel him pushing against the mouth of her cunt as his gloved middle finger successfully located her cervix. He pressed hard against the spongy tissues in between the mouth of the diminutive nigger girl's womb and the base of her pubic bone.
Now he had the tips of his fingers clustered like the corners of a square. He hollowed his palm and pressed the tip of his gloved thumb precisely against its center.
The handsome white man could feel his own breathing quickening as he moved his huge feet on the bare floor so that he had perfect balance.
Bernard Cornfield moved one foot slightly behind the other and they were parted to shoulder-width. He straightened his right arm and locked that elbow.
He hunched up his shoulder.
He gritted his teeth.
He flexed his muscles.
He began to push his hand against her pussy as hard as he could – and she began to scream bloody murder as she felt the tissues tearing.
She watched in horror, the pain sweeping through, as his knuckles actually disappeared inside her cunt. She almost sighed with relief as her inner labia were given a chance to close a bit around the man's wrist. The glove he wore rolled up into her forearm – so her cunt never touched anything but leather. Bernard did not want to get nigger blood on his skin. He was afraid it might stain or something like that.
But the worst was yet to come.
His fingers were still straight and clustered within her. He began to bend his gloved digits at the knuckles and Tammy Taylor could tell he had no intention of calling a halt to this sadistic process until his right hand was clenched in a tight fist – a fat so tight that each and every one of his knuckles would turn white beneath his black leather glove. She could feel herself being stretched as no little girl should be stretched. She felt as if she were having a baby – only in reverse.
"You are hurting me so badly! I can't stand it! You are ruining me! I can feel myself reipping inside! You are gonna make it so's I can't have no babies! Please! Puh-lease!Master! Master! Stop! Oh please stop!Stop just for a second! Give me just a second without this hurt!"
The man just laughed at her.
The man not only clenched his gloved hand into a fist, but he began to twist his fist inside her. She screamed some more, her screams weaker now with her exhaustion.
She gurgled in her throat.
Tammy prayed that she could pass out so she would not have to suffer the pain any longer – a pain much worse than the bite of the ship she had felt. She was convulsing with the petrifying fear that the man was doing something very serious to her, harming her worse than he ever had before.