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White Slave, Black Whip by Amalfi West

EXTRACT FOR
White Slave, Black Whip 
(Amalfi West)


CHAPTER 1

CHAPTER 1

 

The redhead’s body was breaking out in a sweat now, even though the basement wasn’t hot.  Her eyes, squeezed tight against the pain and humiliation, where fluttering open, showing flashes of green and the glitter of unshed tears.  But already the outrage and horror that had filled them before was slipping away, replaced by confusion and…Fear.  Not of him, not at this moment, anyway.  He’d done his worst (if she only knew, he grinned to himself), he’d taken her virginity.  Just as he promised, his black cock was between her slender white thighs, thrusting deep and hard into a pussy that was no longer hers to control.  That was the fear in her eyes; that her body was accepting the pain, embracing the pain, needing the pain.

He’d promised her that, as well.  That before she knew it, her body would belong to him.  It would both fear and desire him, and when he touched it, no matter if it was pain or pleasure, her flesh would respond to him against her wishes.  He’d promised that her own body would betray her, and once it did, she would be unable to prevent her mind from following.

Slowly, the screams had turned to sobs, the sobs had turned to sharp little gasps, as his thick black cock ripped again and again through the flushed lips of her cunt and thudded against her cervix.  The girl’s eyes were wide open now, searching frantically about the darkened room, but there was nothing beyond the pool of light they lay in, and the mocking eyes of the black man above her.  With a faint smirk, he lifted his muscular hips and changed the angle of his attack, crashing through her resistance, his prick rasping against her treacherously taut little clit.  Her gasps were louder now, her panicked eyes looking down between them, seeing his enormous shaft, glistening now, the streaks of her virgin blood nearly washed away by her own gushing wetness.

He thrust hard into her tight, hot, weeping hole and ground his pelvic bone against hers.  She bit her lip and dug her fingers into his hard, sculpted chest as her cunt muscles involuntarily squeezed the overpowering invader between her legs.  No, she screamed inside her head, NO!  I can’t!

She screwed her eyes shut, trying to shut out the face of her rapist, trying to tear her mind away from the flood of sensations he was driving into her belly with that cruel black column of flesh.  Suddenly, she sensed his face near hers, felt his hot breath in her ear, his teeth biting into the tender place where her neck met her shoulder, pulling her back into her body, back toward the explosion building inside her quivering pussy.

She bit her lip, harder now.  Tears squeezed through the lashes of her tightly closed eyes.  She dug her fingernails deeper into his chest, drawing blood, but he ignored it, and changed his rhythm, fucking her hard but slow, making her feel every inch, every vein of his cock as it plowed through her deflowered cunt.  It was coming, she could feel it, and she instinctively knew it wouldn’t be like the warm, but short-lived flush of pleasure she got from touching herself in the bath.  This was going to tear her apart, like his cock was tearing apart her insides, and if she let it happen, how could she ever say No?  How could she even pretend to be in control of her own body, her own destiny, if she came now like a whore on his raping, rampaging cock?  But even as her head tossed wildly in fear and frustration, scattering her thick red tresses across the mat, her lithe white legs closed around his pistoning hips.

 

***

 

Lakeview Estates was a misnomer in more ways than one.  To begin with, there was no lake, the developers having run out of funds before they could dredge out the artificial pond the brochure had promised; and the homes – most of them anyway – no longer resembled estates.  The tract sat a quarter mile from the main road, barely visible through the screen of trees, a mix of completed and half-built homes, their skeleton frames and flapping, tar papered roofs a monument to the housing crisis and the near collapse of the local economy.

Most of the occupied homes were in good repair, but each street had abandoned houses, and Kelly’s cul-de-sac was one of the most desolate.  It backed up against several acres of woods that would have been paved over by now, had the builders not gone bankrupt.  The houses on either side of her parents’ place were abandoned.  One was boarded up, the pool drained, the other had an optimistic For Sale sign out front, but the lawn and shrubs were dead, and it had been weeks since Kelly had seen any prospective buyers look the place over.  It was the same across the street; only three of the eight homes were occupied, and with the overgrown yards it felt sometimes as though the woods were going to swallow the street back up.  More and more often lately she was startled by the sounds of animals moving through the back yard, and was once awakened by a crashing sound that turned out to be a bear leisurely pawing through the contents of their garbage cans.

Kelly was glad it was summer; she could imagine how forlorn the place would look, if the trees were bare and the yards buried in snow.  But summer also meant she was alone in the house, and nearly alone in the world.  She had finished high school three weeks ago, a month after her 18th birthday, and most of her former classmates had left on graduation trips.  Kelly had planned to go with her best friend Donna to London and Paris for a month – they’d spent most of senior year planning it – but then the medical missionaries intervened.

Kelly’s parents were plastic surgeons who ran a practice with two other doctors.  All four partners were part of a medical humanitarian group, and the two pairs would trade off every other year, going down to Latin America and performing free reconstructive surgeries for indigenous people with no other access to advanced medical care.  This year it was their partner’s turn to go, but Dr. Lang had gotten pregnant in April, and was having complications.  Her obstetrician advised her not to travel, and Kelly’s mother and father volunteered to go in her place, but that would leave their house unattended for two months.

It nearly broke her heart, but Kelly immediately offered to give up her trip and stay behind.  She was a sweet, empathetic girl, who couldn’t stand to see anything – human or animal – suffer, and she was proud of the good works her parents did.  If giving up a month in Europe meant dozens of underprivileged people would be able to lead more normal lives, then that’s just the price she’d have to pay.

“You’re my good girl,” her mother said, her voice almost breaking with pride as she hugged Kelly.

“I wouldn’t have enjoyed myself anyway, knowing those people needed you, and you weren’t there.”

“We’ll make it up to you when we get back, Baby,” her father said.  “You’ll still have a month before you start college; we’ll make sure you and Donna make it to Paris.” 

“Thanks, Daddy.”  She hugged him.

“You’re my sweet baby girl, aren’t you?” He gave her a squeeze back, then kissed her forehead gently, and brushed the hair from her eyes.  “Don’t ever change.”

She looked into her father’s sea-green eyes, so like her own, and smiled back.  “I won’t,” she promised.

 

***

 

But she hadn’t guessed how lonely and bored she was going to be, cooped up all alone in the house.  After almost a week of solitude, Kelly was tired of watching TV, tired of flipping through the magazines in the living room.  She hadn’t even bothered to get dressed today; it was late afternoon and she was still wearing the panties and tank top she’d pulled on after showering.

Kelly sighed and looked at herself in the mirror on her closet door; she had a bad case of bed-head.  Usually she was conscientious about brushing her thick, wavy Irish mane – dark red, with flaming highlights – usually tying it back into a neat ponytail.  But today the mass of silken hair fell in a wild, luxurious tumble over her shoulders, and nearly halfway down her back.  Her body was slender and athletic, making her C-cup breasts look more prominent.  Ordinarily she’d have them carefully concealed inside the modest bras her mother bought her, but now they swayed slightly as she shifted her weight, the air conditioning (it had to be the air conditioning) making her pink nipples stiffen and poke against the thin material of her t-shirt like pencil erasers.  She pulled up the hem of her tank top, exposing her belly, trim and flat from the Pilates classes she took with her mother.  Her legs were firm, shapely, but not overly muscular.

She gazed at her face: Big eyes, full lips, and a pert nose sprinkled with freckles – a very wholesome picture.  Kelly was satisfied with her looks; she considered herself pretty, especially compared to the other girls in her class.  Some people, like Randy, the boy who’d taken her to Senior Prom and later tried to get away with more than he should, and even Donna, had told her she was beautiful. But she knew what her mother would say if she saw her right now, standing in her panties, her hair untamed, her full, upturned breasts straining against her tank top.

“You look like a slut.”

Kelly turned away from the mirror and glanced around the room, desperate for some distraction.  Her eyes fixed on her cell phone, sitting on the nightstand, and for a long moment she considered calling Donna.  But she just collapsed with a sigh onto her bed.  She didn’t think she could face Donna just yet.  Not after that night at her house...

It was the Saturday after commencement. The church had put on a barbecue for the graduates of the parochial high school Kelly and her friends attended.  There was another party that evening, at Randy’s house, but Kelly wasn’t allowed to go.  On Prom night her father had given strict instructions that the boy was to have Kelly home by midnight but it was after 1:30 when he finally dropped her off.  Her father was angry, and when he heard that Randy was having a party while his parents were out of town, he refused to let Kelly go.  Even though she was 18 now, her father was so loving, and refused her so little, she didn’t feel she could disobey him.  So Donna suggested they have their own party.

Her parents were at the country club that night, so they had the house to themselves.  They ordered pizza, watched movies, and Donna made Cosmopolitans.

“Are you sure your mom and dad won’t get mad,” Kelly asked.  Her parents would let her have wine sometimes with dinner, and a little champagne on New Years Eve, but she’d never had a cocktail before.

“It’s fine,” Donna said, pulling a bottle of vodka out of the freezer.  “My folks always let me have a drink with them if it’s not a school night.  You’ll love this.  It’s mostly cranberry and lime juice – tart and sweet.”

Donna mixed all the ingredients up in a silver shaker, then poured the pink liquid into two martini glasses.

“To a new school, new lives, new experiences.”  They clinked glasses.  Donna took a sip, watching over the rim of her glass as Kelly sampled the cocktail.  “What do you think?”

“It’s good,” Kelly said, surprised.  She always thought you’d choke on your first taste of hard alcohol, like you did with your first cigarette, but the Cosmo went down like candy.  As Donna promised, it was tart and sweet at the same time, and she couldn’t even taste the liquor, although she wasn’t sure what vodka was supposed to taste like.

They finished their first round in the kitchen, chatting about their trip, getting increasingly excited.  Then Donna refilled their glasses and said, “Let’s finish these in the Jacuzzi!”

“I didn’t bring my suit.”  None of Donna’s bathing suits would fit her, although she supposed she could borrow a big t-shirt or something.

“My parents won’t be home till after midnight,” Donna said, heading toward the patio door.  “Come on!”  Donna placed her drink on top of the TV, and started unbuttoning her blouse.

“Donna…”  Her friend was a lot more comfortable with nudity than Kelly was.  In the girl’s locker room she would stand stark naked at the sinks, casually brushing her thick black mop of hair, completely unconcerned, while Kelly would self-consciously keep her towel tucked around her body and dress as quickly as she could.

Donna tossed her blouse on the couch, then kicked off her sandals and shucked off her jeans.  “Kelly, come on…!”  She reached between her breasts and opened the front clasp of her bra.  Donna wasn’t fat, but she was all tits and ass.  Narrow waist, curvy hips, and big boobs.  They hadn’t begun to droop yet, but they did bounce a lot when she walked, even when she was wearing a bra.  Which she wasn’t.

Donna tossed away the bra and cupped her tits, rubbing her hands softly along the underside where the cups had left a crease.  The boys had been chasing after her since she first began to develop in the fifth grade, and Kelly could see why.  She looked like a Greek goddess, a womanly symbol of fertility and sex.

Kelly looked down at her second drink and wondered: Am I getting drunk?

“Kelly!”  She glanced up and saw Donna slide her panties down her legs and kick them onto the couch.  She put one hand on her hip and stood there, naked but for a smile.  “If you don’t get undressed and into that Jacuzzi right now, I’m gonna come over there and strip you naked!”

Kelly believed her.  This wasn’t the first time Donna had suggested they skinny-dip, but it was the first time they’d both been drinking, and if Kelly was feeling a little woozy, she suspected Donna was feeling even bolder than usual.

“Donna, no…I’m embarrassed.”  Kelly put her drink on the counter and folded her arms across her chest.  Donna picked up her cocktail, drained it, and sauntered toward her.  Kelly tried to focus on the bounce of her cute bobbed hair, but couldn’t seem to keep her eyes away from the mesmerizing jiggle and sway of Donna’s breasts.  In the back of her mind, Kelly noticed that her friend’s nipples were hard, and wondered how that could be, when it was so warm in here.

Donna picked up the shaker and refilled her glass, then topped off Kelly’s and held it out until finally the redhead finally rolled her eyes and took it.  Donna clinked their glasses, lifted her cocktail to her lips, and murmured, “Drink your drink.”

Kelly took a big sip.  She should probably stop, she thought, but it was so tasty, and she didn’t know what else to with her hands or where to look, what with her naked friend right in front of her.

“Don’t just stand there with your boobs in my face!  We’re not in gym class.”

“What, these?”  Donna smiled and cupped her breasts again.

“Oh stop.  Yes!  You have bigger tits than me.  Don’t rub it in.”

Donna leaned over suddenly, grabbing her boobs and rubbing them back and forth, grazing Kelly’s bare arms with her stiff nipples.  Kelly’s instinct was to pull away, but it would have jostled the drink in her hand.  Instead she sighed and sipped her cocktail, wondering why her friend always had to push things so far, and try to make her do things she didn’t want to do.  “You’re too repressed,” Donna would always tell her.  “You need to loosen up and experience a little of what the world has to offer.”  But Donna wasn’t anymore of a free spirit than Kelly was.  She went to the same church and the same parochial school, and dated even less than Kelly did.  So why was she always trying to get Kelly to do crazy things when they were alone, but never taking her own advice when she was in public?

Donna smiled wickedly.  Kelly wanted to move away, but she seemed to be trapped in the corner of the kitchen counter, and if she tried to squeeze out, she’d have to slide against Donna’s naked body.  She tried to look her friend sternly in the eye, but she couldn’t help noticing the areolas of Donna’s big breasts were crinkled, and the nipples achingly erect.  Her face and bosom were flushed and her big brown eyes were sparkling with excitement.

She’s just teasing you, Kelly told herself.  Trying to make you feel like a prude.  She loves to embarrass you.