Feature Writer: Punky Girl AKA Shannon

Feature Title: SUBURBAN GIRL 6

Published: 29.05.2008

Story Codes: Fetish, Young, Snuff, Zoo, Domination, Sin

Synopsis: In the suburbs of Cleveland, Ohio a young girl discovers that masturbation is a sin. But when she breaks a promise to God to stop her immoral actions she begins to see the Bible’s list of sexual restrictions as her most basic and carnal desires. Because for this 13-year-old suburban girl, sin and her wanton sexual needs go hand in hand as she struggles to endure a body built for sex, abuse, and constant orgasm. Inspired by the classic UseNet story “Farm Girl” by Dark Dreamer.

 

Suburban Girl 6

The last time I was fucked by my master as his slave occurred on the Wednesday that followed the lesson he gave me at my church.

As usual he wanted to fuck me as soon as I arrived at his house after school that day. And as usual I was more than ready for it. During class I had masturbated in the bathroom not once, not twice, but six times. Once an hour, as per my master’s newest rule. I wasn’t allowed to climax when I did this, but I did have to finger myself until I at least got wet. I’d been obeying this rule since Monday when he’d sent it to me in a text message and it had been an effective way of getting me really worked up him which, of course, was the point.

If any of my teachers or classmates realized how different my life had become since becoming a slave they didn’t show it. No one ever noticed, for instance, that I was constantly squirming during class at the start of the hour when I was still worked up from my bathroom masturbation sessions. No one noticed that whenever I took out my golden little “Sin Bible” and made an entry afterward. I wasn’t even trying to hide what was being done to me. The fact is that my activities were naturally well-hidden by my previous life. I’d always been a shy and socially inept sort of girl. I guess that’s what everyone still saw when they looked at me. I didn’t have to hide what I had become because it was all internal. On the outside, everyone still saw the “old” me.

That Wednesday, the last of my enslavement, I arrived at his house in my school uniform and blue autumn jacket feeling nervous and exhausted. I was nervous because he had warned me the day before that I was ready, now, to further my training. And I was exhausted because I had been up until 2am the night before trying to get caught up with homework. All the time I was spending with my master was making me fall behind on my school work and I had resolved the night before to get myself back on track. I’d spent most of the day tired and groggy as a result, but at least it had paid off. I ended up acing a History test and turning in an overdue report I had to do about Saint Thomas of Beckett.

Arriving at his house sure woke me up, though. The thought of having my training “furthered” was like a jolt of caffeine to my system. What did it mean? What was he going to do to me? As I walked into his garage and saw him waiting I realized it didn’t matter. I was his slave, his property. He’d proved that beyond a shadow of a doubt the Sunday before. Memories of that humiliation still made my stomach churn and the thought of doing anything that would upset him never entered my head.

He ushered me down into the basement right away and told me to undress, which I did, and then he put a dog collar around my neck. He’d been making me wear it since Monday, saying that it symbolized I was his pet. After he put the loose-fitting collar around my slender neck he kept his hands there. He was grinding his erection into the small of my back as I trembled in what can only be described as nerve-racking delight. It was always that way with him, you see. He made me nervous, I was terrified of being punished, but there came with those two negative emotions something far more mysterious: a delight, a certain pleasure in the idea that I was his property.

Finally he had enough of that, and he made me get on all fours on the floor in front of the couch. I bit my lower lip in anticipation as I listened to him disrobe behind me. When he got on his knees my body stiffened as I felt him spit on my dry slit. Whenever he spat on me like this I always filled up with shame. What kind of girl allowed a man to spit on her twat? But I had no choice. A moment later he was pressing his large member inside me and, without even thinking, I pressed back the way I knew he liked. Despite the painful entry I responded the way I knew he wanted.

As usual it hurt at first. He hadn’t bothered to let me get wet naturally, and only his saliva softened his rough entry. I cringed in pain as he pushed into me but soon my body began to react and my pussy moistened. I’d been wanting to cum all day, after all, and now I finally had a chance to do so. When he grabbed me from behind by the dog collar and pulled my head back I moaned with desire. It wasn’t long before there was nothing but pleasure from the doggy-style sex, and I cooed and panted in time with his thrusts. I begged him to fuck me harder, faster. He didn’t say a word as his cock pummeled my tender, barely 13-year-old pussy, though. Usually he liked to taunt and tease me, insult me and degrade me. Today all he wanted to do was get himself off.

I was in a trance, hypnotized by his domineering cock, and it wasn’t long before my slender arms could no longer hold my body up. I collapsed forward and the dog collar around my neck dug sharply into my skin. I began to suffocate as my master pulled back on the collar. It took every ounce of willpower I had to push my body back up so that I could breathe again. And once the oxygen flow returned a surprising orgasm racked my small frame. My master sensed this and I heard his laughter as my pussy gripped his cock as he slammed it in and out of me. He erupted inside me before I finished climaxing and he let my tiny body crumple to the floor without a word.

I lay there choking in air and recovering from my orgasm for quite a while. While I did that he stood up and left the room. I was still gasping when I remembered that he would expect me to add this latest fuck to my Book of Sins. Using all my strength I managed to stand, find my backpack, and pull out the golden hard-cover book.

I flipped through the pages of the book, stumbling sometimes and almost dropping it. I decided to sit cross-legged while I did this, making sure to face the stairway so my master would see me behaving obediently, without being told, as soon as he returned. I was naked except for the dog collar and his semen was leaking out of my sore pussy. With a shaky hand I finally entered the day’s date under the sin “Sex Outside of Marriage”. Then I flipped to the page for “Submitting in a Carnal Manner” and added a date there, too. It made my heart sink to see how many entries I’d already made on those two pages. It made my heart sink even further to realize how many other sins I had left to make any entries for.

“Flip to, ahh, ‘sodomy’,” my master said.

I hadn’t heard him return. He was standing at the bottom of the stairway with a beer in his hand. He’d pulled on a paid of boxer shorts but his fat, hairy body was otherwise naked. I nodded to him and tried to find the page for the sin he had just mentioned.

I knew what sodomy meant and for some reason I was having a hard time finding the correct page. Maybe my sub-concsious thought that if I couldn’t find it I wouldn’t have to do it. Because, as I sat there naked on the floor flipping through the gold book, I realized my master was going to do it to me. Why else would he have me find the page? After a few minutes I found it and looked up at him. He was standing in front of me with a grin on his fat face as he waited for me to write in his name and the day’s date below the bible quotes that described what a “sinful perversion” anal sex was. After I did I stared at my shaky handwriting and, with dread in my heart, realized that he had left a lot of space for me to make entries for this particular sin.

I’d sort of expected this day would come. In the three weeks I’d been his slave my master had never talked openly about anal sex but he’d dropped hints that we would try it. He’d shown me several adult sex scenes where women were getting fucked like that, for example, and sometimes when I was on top of him during sex he would slide his fingers over my little anal-hole. And, of course, the sin of sodomy was in the book he’d given me. But there were lots of sins in that book and I was still naive enough to think he’d never expect me to do all of them.

After handing him the book he nodded with approval at the entry. I’d written “With Master” and then the date. He grinned again and said, “Kneel there, then bend over and spread your, ahh, ass cheeks for me. I’ll be right back.”

Without any thought of disobedience I assumed the position on the leather couch. When I reached behind myself to grab my ass the way he’d instructed I realized that the training he always talked about was moving forward again. I still didn’t know what I was being trained for: he’d already broken my will, after all. It filled my heart with dread when the possibilities of what he ultimately intended for me floated through my mind. I would think of all those terrible sins in that book and wonder if he planned on having me commit them all. That thought made me shudder and my skin go cold as I breathed into the couch. I swallowed hard and took deep breaths as I waited for him to return, my fear and paranoia threatening to make me sick.

He returned to the couch a moment later and knelt down next to me. My face was pressed into the leather cushion but was turned toward him. He brushed my hair out of my eyes and grinned at my expressionless face. Then he showed me the object he’d just retrieved.

It was by far the smallest dildo he’d ever shown me, or at least the thinnest. The ones he usually used on me were at least as big as his cock. This one was much smaller than that, thankfully, even smaller than the one he’d made me wear into church. It was flesh colored, plastic, and probably about five inches long. The tip of it was a rounded point and it was definitely the least intimidating dildo he’d ever shown me. Of course, this one wouldn’t be going into my pussy.

“We’ll, ahh, use lube today,” he said. He’d already taken out a bottle and was applying some sort sort of liquid to the dildo while I watched. “Eventually all we’ll need is spit, but we’re going to, ahh, break you in slowly.

“Now,” he continued, “you need to relax. It’s going to make things more, ahh, difficult if you tense up. You need to relax your sphincter even though your instinct will be to, ahh, clench up. Understand?”

I nodded my head, causing my blond hair to fall across my eyes again. My master pushed away my hair and smiled. I was taking deep breaths, trying my best to follow his instructions as he began to apply some of the cold lubricant he’d put on the dildo to my scrunched up anal bud. It was impossible to relax my muscles no matter how hard I tried. Just feeling the liquid drip onto my ass made me tense. When he placed the tip of the dildo against my anus I felt my whole body tighten, my sphincter included. It felt so violating, so dirty, and these feelings made me gasp and turned my deep breaths into frantic panting. My master didn’t care. He was getting ready to slide the dildo into me whether I was relaxed or not. I clenched my eyes shut and waited for it.

“Ready?” he said.

I was just about to choke out a reply when I felt the object press against my anus.

The pain was intense. My sphincter resisted the invasive object as it pressed against my tight anal hole. Despite my master’s warnings I couldn’t relax: every fiber of my being felt this was wrong, that I had to resist it, that I could not allow the object inside me. I let go of my ass cheeks and squirmed forward, groaning as I did, tears coming to my eyes from the pain and embarrassment. My master used a free hand to push down between my shoulder blades, holding me in place. I cried some more as the pain intensified. But then, to my astonishment, the object finally popped inside me as though my anus had decided to just accept its fate.

I choked and groaned as my asshole seemed to suck the dildo inside. It was an incredible sensation. Just like that my anus seemed to welcome the object after fighting against it in such a desperate fashion. The pain was still there but there was also a bloated feeling of acceptance as the dildo pushed deeper inside me. I grunted in surprise as my body relaxed. My master started to chuckle. He said, “You, ahh, like that, don’t you?”

There was no way I could respond. I wouldn’t have known what to say. It wasn’t that I was enjoying the violation of my asshole the way I had grown to enjoy being fucked in the pussy. This was an entirely different experience, a mixture of pain and fullness and depravity. With each thrust of the dildo, either in or out, pain and shock ran up the length of my tiny body. My eyes were wide with confusion and when the orgasm hit it came out of nowhere, an even stealthier ambush than the one he’d given me only moments before. Unlike that prior climax, though, I could not lose myself to this one. My mind was wild during it, my body squirming on the sofa, my mouth squeaking like a mouse as my master pushed the object in and out of my ass faster than ever before. I was groaning through tears, ashamed of the orgasm, my brain desperate to deny its existence. It was similar to the first orgasm he ever gave me when he raped me in the back of his video store. It was incredible. It was exhilarating. But it was awful and humiliating to realize how slutty and depraved I was that I could cum under such circumstances.

My master, who knew my body as well as I did, knew I had climaxed. He waited for me to recover a bit then slowly pulled the object out of me. I grunted as it popped out of my tight little asshole and felt empty and relieved when it was gone. Then he said, “Now you’re, ahh, ready for the real thing, little one. Let’s go to the, ahh, bed.”

I began to sob. I’d already figured that the dildo was just a warm-up. The thought of his dick inside me, though, was too much. At that moment I was not his slave. I was just a 13-year-old child, terrified and humiliated beyond thinking. I didn’t think of disobeying, of course, and I even began to sit up like he told me to. But I couldn’t stop crying. I couldn’t bury my fear and shame even as my body, running on auto-pilot, started to follow him to the bed. I kept crying as I walked and my master seemed to understand that I had broken down emotionally. He pushed me back down onto the sofa without a word and said, “You’re, ahh, a mess. Calm down, slut. No use crying. An asshole ain’t no different than a, ahh, pussy, not for a slut like you. Understand?”

I couldn’t stop the tears but I nodded through them. He stared at me with anger in his eyes while we both waited for me to recover. After a couple of minutes I managed to get a hold of myself. He smiled after I stopped crying and the room was silent. He said, “Okay, let’s, ahh, go to the bed. You can cry some more, ahh, after.”

But there wouldn’t be anymore tears that day, at least not for him. While he gave me a hand and I started to stand up on wobbly legs there suddenly came a loud crashing sound from upstairs.

My master snapped his head up and so did I. Everything was silent for a moment and then I heard the distinct sound of footsteps. They were loud, heavy footsteps, and were followed by yet another crashing sound and more commotion.

“Wh-what’s that?” I asked with a choked whisper.

My master didn’t respond at first. He slowly let go of my hand and took a step away from the couch. Suddenly he looked extremely worried, and that worried me.

“M-master?” I asked in a whisper.

“Shh!” he whispered. “It’s … ahh, probably just my son.”

But he made no move to go and investigate. He just stood there with that worried expression on his face as he looked upward and tried to listen. After a moment or two I heard muffled voices, at least two, yelling something from the main floor of the house.

“Shit!” my master said. He didn’t look worried anymore. He looked scared. For the first time since I’d known him he looked frightened and that scared the shit out of me.

My heart pounded in my chest as he took another uncertain step toward the staircase. Then there was another crashing sound, followed by more yelling and heavy footsteps. From the creaking of the floorboards it sounded as though at least one person was moving toward the garage, which meant they were heading towards the entrance to the basement.

“Did I, ahh, lock the door?” my master hissed to himself. Then in a louder voice he gave me an accusatory look and said, “Did I, ahh, lock the fucking door?”

He sounded panicked and my sore eyes began to well up with tears again. “I-I d-don’t remember!” I said.

“Shit, ahh, shit!” he whispered. Then he pointed a trembling finger at me. “Stay there!”

He marched toward the stairway. He’d already dropped the dildo he’d been fucking my ass with and now he was getting his keys out of his pocket. He was shaking all over. I was on my knees, on top of the couch, watching with confusion. I sort of held myself and rocked back and forth as tears trickled down my face once again. I had no idea what was going on but I got the distinct impression that my master did. And his reaction to it was scaring me more than anything else.

He disappeared up the stairway and I could tell he was trying to walk quietly. From upstairs I could hear the muffled yells, the heavy footfalls, and the occasional crashing noise. It sounded like someone was tearing through his house, breaking things. Suddenly a possibility occurred to me. What if it was the police? My master was always showing me those videos of little girls getting fucked, and I knew full well that they were illegal. I’d even done an internet news search on the topic and had discovered that people were arrested every single day for just possessing what was called “child pornography”. What if he’d been caught somehow? What if this was a raid? If it was then they would find me, and I’d have to try and explain what I was doing there. Part of me was tempted to start getting dressed, but memories of my punishment for putting on a pair of panties when I’d known my dad was about to spank me prevented me from doing so. My master hadn’t told me to get dressed. He’d told me to stay where I was. Even if cops were going to storm into the room I was just too afraid of my master to do something he might consider defiant.

It sounded as though he had nearly reached the top of the stairs when suddenly I heard the door to the basement swing open. He hadn’t locked it after all.

“Motherfucker!” cried a voice, drawing out every syllabyl of the profane word. And then the same man yelled: “LEE! FUCKER’S OVER HERE!”

“Wait, ahh, wait a second,” I heard my master say. He sounded frantic. “Let’s talk upstairs, ahh, we can talk things–”

And then I heard a loud crunching sound, a muffled grunt of pain from my master, and a tumbling noise as he fell down the stairs.

When his fat, crumpled body finally appeared again it was rolling over itself. I gasped and put both of my hands over my mouth to keep from screaming. Tears streamed down my face at the sight of my powerful master in such a position. He was groaning in pain and clutching his right arm at the base the stairs. At least he was moving. At first I had thought he was dead.

I couldn’t see up the stairs from my position but I knew whoever had just caused my master to fall was now walking down the steps. I continued breathing through my nose as I shrieked into my hands. I was really crying and was so scared I felt like I might pee myself, but I couldn’t move. I just remained frozen as though whoever had just hurt my master would not discover me so long as I stayed still.

And then the man finally appeared.

He was incredibly tall, maybe 6’4″, and he was black. His hair was done in long corn-rolls and he had massively wide shoulders draped in a football jersey. He looked like he could even be a football player: his build was definitely athletic, with strong looking arms and a fit, muscular physique that was apparent despite his loose fitting jeans and shirt. He was standing over my master in an intimidating stance and suddenly I realized he was holding a gun in his left hand.

A gun. He had a gun. I nearly fainted when I saw it. Was my master about to die? Was I? Suddenly the thought of being raided by the cops didn’t seem like such a bad thing.

“Get on your fucking feet, motherfucker!” the black man said. He reached down and grabbed my master by his slick-backed hair. He hadn’t looked over in my direction, yet.

My master had no choice but to stand as the black monster in the orange and brown football jersey pulled him up by his hair. Just then I heard someone else descend the stairway. When my master was back on his feet he was clutching his arm and I could see that his nose had been broken. Blood was streaming out of it, dripping over his mouth and onto his hairy chest. He was trying to say something but the black man holding him wouldn’t let him speak.

“Where’s the fucking money, motherfuck?” the black man demanded. He was still clutching my master by his hair with his right hand but with his left he brought up the large, silver gun and placed it against my master’s fat double-chin. “Where’s our fuckin’ money!”

My master started to say in a nasally, terrified voice, “I, ahh, d-don’t, ahh,” but was cut off when the black demon who towered over him suddenly cracked the butt of his gun across my master’s face. The blow sent him tumbling into the room. The black man with the gun pursued his tumbling frame, his angry eyes still locked onto his body.

His partner, the one named Lee, was right behind him. He was also a big man, at least 6’1″, but he had a heavier, more compact build. While he appeared to be his partner’s equal in strength he was built more like a tank. His body was thick, squat, and hard. Like his partner he appeared to be in his mid-20’s but wore a black dress shirt, buttoned up all the way to his neck and without a tie. Instead he wore a golden necklace around his thick neck. His shirt wasn’t tucked into his loose black jeans but he wore golden cuff-links to clasp his shirt together around each wrist. He had a short afro, not corn-rolls like his partner, and the expression on his dark brown face wasn’t angry or happy.

“Ho-lee-shit,” the taller man said when he finally noticed me.

I gasped into my hands again, realizing that both of these black men were staring at my naked tits. The one named Lee only arched his dark eyebrows slightly, but the taller man was gawking. I uncovered my mouth suddenly and screamed piteously as I crossed my hands over my chest to cover my small breasts. Then I fell backwards on the couch, onto my butt, and kept my skinny white legs shut together. I squirmed my pubescent body back as I whimpered, and then farther back still until I reached the armrest. My master was still groaning at their feet from the pistol-whip he’d just received but neither of the intruders were paying him any attention. Both had their eyes on me. I felt for certain I was going to pee, then. I was more terrified than I had ever been in my life.

“Who’s the bitch?” the taller man said, looking down at my groaning master. He held his gun limply to his side but gave my master a kick in his fat gut when he didn’t respond right away. “This your daughter or somethin’, Daniel?”

Daniel. My master’s name was Daniel. I hadn’t known that before. Hearing his name for the first time actually made me stop crying for a moment.

Daniel. It was strange to finally hear my master’s name. It was shocking, in fact. I’ll never understand exactly why but hearing his name for the first time made him less ominous, less terrifying. Without a name he was a god. Without a name he was simply my master. But with a name? Well, he was a crumpled up fat man at the mercy of these two demons.

The thickly built, squat black man named Lee was walking over toward me while his partner remained with Daniel. I cringed at his approach and started to sob again. But then the man stopped and finally looked away from me. He knelt down to pick up something he’d found on the floor.

“Ty,” he said. He had an incredibly deep, emotionless voice. He had found the dildo my master had dropped.

Ty, the taller, skinner black man in the football jersey, looked over at his partner. When he saw what Lee was holding he started to laugh.

“Damn, you fuckin’ sick motherfuck! Was you gettin’ ready to use that on your little girl? Huh?” Ty said to my master.

Daniel, the man who had so dominated my life over the last three weeks, groaned in response. Then he spit blood onto the carpet and managed to croak, “She, ahh … isn’t my, ahh … daughter…”

“But she is your bitch?” Ty said to him in what was more or less a question. He was squatting down next to his body, the gun still held lazily in his left hand.

My master didn’t reply. He coughed, though, and spat up more blood. Both of the intruders had their focus on him again as I trembled and sobbed on the couch. After nearly a minute passed in silence I couldn’t help myself. I said, “Dan– uhm, Mmm, Master? Wh-what’s g-going on?”

Ty snapped his head in my direction. He was grinning when he said, “Master?”

“Master,” Lee echoed in his deep baratone. He didn’t look over at me, though.

“Why she calling you master, video man?” Ty asked, looking back down at Daniel.

“I’ll, ahh, have your m-money,” my master said, spitting up blood.

“The what?” Ty asked as though confused. His voice was dripping with sarcasm as he looked down at my master in an almost playful way.

“Oh, the money?” he said when my master only coughed up more blood. “What, you got it up in here? ’cause see, we was startin’ to think you must be dead or some shit. We wasn’t about to think you was holdin’ out. Was you holdin’ out?”

Again my master didn’t say anything. He just groaned and coughed blood. Ty continued, “See, I didn’t think you’d do that shit to the Four-Oh crew. When you stopped answering’ your phone I figured, ‘Shit, Danny must be fuckin’ dead!’. I even said to Lacile, ‘Shit, Danny’s dead, no other way to explain this!’. Because that’s the only reason I figured you wouldn’t answer your motherfuckin’ phone. So when my man Lee and I came on over today, we was expectin’ to see a for-sale sign or some shit in front of your house. Estate shit and whatnot. But there was no sign. And my man Lee here pointed out there’s no mail pilin’ up or nothin, so you’s must be home. And then Lee says to me, ‘Well he ain’t dead, ‘ and that got me to thinkin’. ‘Well, if he ain’t dead then he must just be avoidin’ us.’ I didn’t want to think that but it just must be true, am I right?”

“You right,” Lee said in his thick, deep voice.

My master spit again, just a little bit of blood this time, and began to sit up. Ty let him. And once he was upright on the floor, sitting on his fat butt and still clutching his arm, my master said, “The, ahh, insurance hasn’t come through. Any day now. Any day, ahh…”

Ty chuckled as he squatted like a baseball catcher in front of my master, his gun held gingerly in his left hand. He angled the barrel of the silver weapon at my master’s brutalized face and said, “See, yeah, but that’s not what I remember you sayin’. I remember you sayin’ somethin’ about a partner. What was that?”

“Old friend was gonna hook him up,” Lee entombed.

“Hook you up,” Ty agreed solemnly. His eyes were narrow, now, and menacing as he stared at my master. “I remember. You said your store’s policy was tight. Tight insurance, you said. There’d be no questions ’cause you had this partner on the inside. That’s the only reason we did the job before seein’ any Benjamin’s first.”

“The, ahh, cops, the fucking cops!” my master protested. “They, ahh, said there was a, ahh, possibility of arson … the, ahh, insurance won’t go through until … until the, cops clear it!”

Ty nodded, apparently sympathetic. For a moment I actually thought he was accepting my master’s explanation. But then he said in a quiet voice that was almost a whisper, “Yeah. I feel ya. Thing is, you said that wouldn’t fucking happen.” And then Ty formed a fist with his huge right hand and punched it into my master’s already broken nose.

I squeezed my knees against my chest and gasped.

What I wanted to do more than anything was to get dressed, grab my purse and backpack, and go home. I suddenly had no respect for Daniel anymore. He wasn’t my master. He was nobody’s master. In my childlike mind he went from God-like to pathetic in an instant. I knew now that I would never respect him the same way again. He was helpless and weak in front of Ty and Lee. He was getting beaten up silly and wasn’t even putting up a fight. The man who had been so dominating over me was practically a child in front of these men.

He was no master. His name was Daniel, and he was just a fat old man who had obviously fucked over the wrong couple of guys. Guys who were both strong and sure of themselves. Guys who were violent and merciless and indomitable.

They were real men, Ty and Lee.

Even though I realized this, though, I couldn’t move. All I could do was clutch my knees against my breasts and cry and sob and wait.

“You owe us three large, motherfucker!” Ty growled. “We don’t give two shits ’bout your insurance problems! Give us our fuckin’ money, right fuckin’ now, or we’ll assassinate your white ass.”

That’s when he paused, and seemed to remember me. He looked over at my terrified body and grinned. He said, “Or … shit, I guess we could take it out on her!”

My eyes widened. Ty locked his eyes back onto my naked and trembling body and Lee looked back over his shoulder, too. But there was no way, I foolishly thought, that Daniel would let them hurt me. Even though I didn’t respect him anymore I knew he still cherished me. He loved fucking me, he loved having me, and there was no way he’d throw me to the wolves to save his own hide. He’d think of something else, another way to pay these monsters off. That’s what I thought. That’s what I hoped.

Then I heard his words. And his voice seemed relieved, and thankful, even, when he said, “Yes, ahh, she’ll do whatever I say … you can both, ahh, fuck her. She, ahh, fucks like a pro! It won’t even be, ahh, rape … she’ll do whatever I say … she’ll want to do whatever I say…”

Upon hearing his words my face flushed red with shame and embarrassment. Not because of what Daniel said about me. But because he was right. Even though I no longer respected him and no longer saw him as my master, I knew I would whatever he wanted me to do. I was his property. Nothing would ever change that, I thought.

“Is that a fact?” Ty said slowly, still staring at me. I dropped my eyes and bit my lower lip under his gaze.

“Yes, ahh, yes!” my master groaned hopefully. “She’s, ahh, a horny little slut. She’s my, ahh, slave, you heard her call me, ahh, her master! She’ll do whatever I want her to do. You can fuck her or, ahh, I’ll make her fuck you! G-give me a few more weeks to get together the money, and she’ll, ahh, fuck you both…”

My master sounded so hopeful it made me sick. But Ty was ignoring him, now. His eyes were still locked on me even as I stared down at my toes. He stood back up and stepped toward me, brushing past his partner. His large silver gun dangled at his side as I cringed and whimpered.

“You’re tellin’ me this bitch’ll do anything you say?” the tall black man asked as though he didn’t believe it. He was asking my master with his words but it felt like he was asking me with his eyes. I looked back up and locked onto his and he appeared blurry through my tears. I was trembling all over but made no motion to move or escape as he got closer to me.

“Anything,” Daniel said, sounding pathetically optimistic now. “Just, ahh, name it.”

Ty reached the edge of the couch, right next to me. Then he knelt. He studied my pale, nubile body for a long moment and then looked back into my terrified eyes. Then he said, “Tell her she’s ours, then, video-man.”

The room grew silent and I felt my nipples getting hard against my knees.

“Ahh,” Daniel finally groaned. “I, ahh, can … tell her to do whatever you, ahh, want. Tell me what you want from her and I’ll, ahh, tell her to do it!”

Ty snapped his head in Daniel’s direction. “Tell her she’s ours now, motherfucker! If she’s your fuckin’ slave consider this a motherfuckin’ emancipation! Tell he she’s ours or you’re a fuckin’ dead man!”

Lee was closer to the beaten and bloody man, now, and as he took another step in Daniel’s direction I noticed that he had produced a gun from his loose fitting black jeans. My master saw this as well and the optimistic expression he’d had a moment before disappeared. I was still holding my knees against my chest, doing my best to hide my tits, but it wasn’t even really necessary. The black menace kneeling next to me, Ty, only ever looked into my eyes or at my master.

“Yes, ahh, yes,” my master said.

Time slowed down for me as I registered his words. “She’s yours,” he breathed painfully after a pause. “Ahh, Becky … you’re their, ahh … you’re their property from, ahh, now on.”

And so it was that the man who had been my master gave me up in lieu of a $3,000 dollar debt.

Without thinking, I nodded. My nod was to Ty and he took it for what it was. Acceptance.

“Get dressed,” he said to me. “We’re leavin’.”

Being told what to do was apparently what my terrified mind had been waiting for. Without a word or any thought of hesitation I stood up from the couch, extremely aware of the fact that both Ty and Lee were watching me. I wasn’t crying anymore but I wasn’t smiling, either, as I gathered up my clothes. My eyes briefly locked with my former master’s while I searched for my shirt, but I quickly looked away. Looking at him made me feel sick.

“You just bought yourself another three weeks,” I heard Ty explaining to him as I dressed. “Next time we visit you best have our fuckin’ money. If you don’t, all the white bitches in world won’t be able to save your ass.”

“In the world,” I heard Lee agree.

When I finished putting my bra on the two men were done threatening Daniel. They turned and watched as I pulled on my socks and then buttoned up my shirt. I didn’t look back at them but I could feel their eyes on me. Finally my shoes and coat were on, too, and after slinging my book-bag over one shoulder and retrieving my purse I finally looked at Ty again to await further instruction.

“Alright, come on, bitch,” he said to me.

I followed him up the steps without so much as a look back at my former master. He was probably going to have to go the hospital, I thought, but I didn’t care. It didn’t make me happy that he’d been hurt so bad, but it didn’t make me sad, either. He wasn’t my master anymore. He was nothing to me now. He was just a man who had tried to own me but who had been too weak to keep me.

His name was Daniel, I thought. It occurred to me that he would never be my master again. In the back of my mind I began to hope that I would never be anyone’s slave again, either.

Ty was quick to disprove that notion. As soon as we got to the partially rusted-out Cadillac parked in the driveway I threw my bag and purse into the big backseat and then sat between Lee, who was driving, and Ty, who was riding shotgun. And when the Caddy rumbled out onto the residential road Ty explained his plan to his partner.

“The bitch’ll be our ho till video-man comes up with the green,” he said. He was talking about me as though I wasn’t there, which was fine with me. I was staring down into my lap, nervous and confused. My body was on automatic pilot: I was so scared that the only thing I could do was obey, the way my master and, before him, my father had taught me to be obedient. It was how my fragile psyche was dealing with the situation.

“Maurice might be pissed,” Lee said.

“Nah, shit no, man,” Ty said. He clapped his large black hand onto my right thigh. I barely noticed. He went on, “Maurice likes little snow-bunnies. We’ll have fun with her ’till we gets our money, then give her back to video-man. Trust me, that fat motherfucker’ll come up with the green real fast. He’s gonna wants this one back, I’m sure of that.”

“I dunno, man,” Lee said after a pause. “White suburban chick gone missing. Risky fucking shit.”

“Damn, boy! You worry too much,” Ty laughed. To me he said, “Anyone gonna notice you gone? Huh? Besides your fuckin’ ‘master’, I mean?”

Without a thought I whispered, “My dad. My school. My brothers…”

“Shit!” Ty grumbled. “You means you weren’t living with that fat motherfucker? Well, when’s you usually get home?”

“N-nine,” I breathed.

“See?” Lee said.

“No big thing, no big thing,” Ty said, sounding angry. “So we gets her home by nine. She ain’t gonna tell no one ’bout this shit, are you?”

“No,” I whispered. I meant it, too. After all, who would I tell? My dad? How would I explain that I’d been with a man his age, a man I called master, and that I’d been traded to a couple of black guys?

“See, man? She a good little ho,” Ty smiled. “And she’ll be our good little ho, least till video-man comes up with the cash. I heard about this shit before, crazy white bitches who want to be little sex slaves. Ain’t that right, bitch? You liked being fat-man’s little sex toy, huh?”

“Yes, Sir,” I said, not really hearing his exact question but knowing that for any question the words, “Yes, Sir”, would be correct.

He squeezed my leg. I barely felt it because I was numb all over. My eyes were squarely in my lap, staring into my folded hands.

“Yeah, you gonna likes bein’ with the four-oh crew,” he said as he squeezed my thigh and slid up a little bit beneath my skirt. “You our little bitch now. You gonna love rolling with the four-oh, little snow bunny.”

I wasn’t sure of that. I wasn’t sure of anything. As we got onto the freeway I realized I was sure of only three things at the moment. First, that I was being driven by two strange men into the city. Second, I realized that I would do whatever I was told. And, finally, I realized that just because Daniel was no longer my master didn’t mean I was no longer a slave. I would forever be a slave and nothing could ever, ever change that.

The millionth tear of the day trickled down my face but I didn’t make a sound. In the distance I could see the rather unimpressive skyline of Cleveland and all the buildings looked like tombstones to me. It didn’t feel like we were driving toward a city. It felt like we were driving toward a graveyard. More specifically, it felt like I was being driven to my grave.

I never made a sound the rest of the way there.

THE END