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The young girl, who was trembling like a leaf, started to cry silently. A wide plaster sealed her lips and something fat was filling her mouth, but nothing held back her tears.
Hunter noticed this and looked her in the eyes…
“We will have a great time tonight, won’t we, splitass?”
The girl instinctively shook her head. She was paralyzed with terror.
Killer twisted in the armchair trying to accommodate his throbbing erection. He was enviously imagining the night that the guide was going to have with the prisoner.
A torrid voice behind him made him jump.
“Atira the slave-girl begs permission to kiss her Master’s balls…”
Killer hadn’t seen, nor imagined, nor even dreamed of anything like this in his life.
He gaped open-mouthed, stupefied. This couldn’t be true…
Hunter, observing the effect on his client, smiled…
“It’s my personal slave-girl, at least for now. Unlike the majority who feel ripped off if they don’t catch a blonde, white ‘splitass’ with blue eyes, I still like our women…”
Killer could manage no more than a nod. His eyes, his libido, all his attention was concentrated on the sumptuous ebony buttocks that were alongside him. Atira was a twenty-four year old black American woman, five foot seven tall with a thirty-nine inch bust and thirty-seven inches around the hips. She was a real erotic dream and she moved with the grace of a panther. Her hair lightly waved and very curly, was thick and reached to halfway down her back and her face was unusually finely chiselled for one of her race. She was a true beauty with slightly slanted black eyes, high cheekbones, a small slightly snub nose, a big mouth and lips that drive men wild. Her skin shone with the oils that had been rubbed into it and it looked as soft as silk. Her breasts were superb, high and strong. Swollen like two balloons that are about to burst. The bottom, like most black women’s, was rounded, large and firm, with a perfect shape, a temptation for a sadist like Killer. Her long and strong legs were perfectly straight and well turned with thighs that promised sublime caresses. And her outfit was the final touch to complete this erotic dream. A silver studded leather collar with a two-foot long leash hanging between her naked breasts, two little bells, on rings that pierced her nipples! And a fine golden cord around her hips holding up a tiny golden curtain that barely covered the pubis it was supposed to hide. The slave-girl was wearing golden sandals that hid none of her foot but raised her heel a good four inches off the floor. Two chains around her ankles held two more little bells that tinkled with every step she took and, imagined Killer interpreted whole symphonies in bed.
That was all.
What kind of fool would want to cover such satin skin, such splendid contours?
“What do you think of this one?” Asked Hunter proudly.
Killer’s wide eyes, tight mouth and clenched fists answered more eloquently than words could have.
“It’s a shame because ‘splitasses’ like this can’t be caught in Los Angeles anymore. Tell my friend where I caught you, slave!” Hunter ordered this impressive woman.
Before obeying, Altira looked disdainfully at Killer…
“It was inland, in the Canyon, at a settlement on the river, Sir.” She explained with the same torrid sensual voice as when she had arrived.
Hunter went on…
“It was a great pleasure, the best hunting since I have been here. The ‘splitasses’ were in caves along the cliffs in the canyon. We had to fumigate the zone with nerve gas. They came out like what they are, like filthy rats. With the help of the biological radar we could tell the males in spite of the smoke and got down to exterminating them at a distance with incendiary projectiles. It’s very effective ammunition; it sticks to the skin and gives off chemical that burns at low temperature… Some of those pigs howled for more than fifty minutes…”
“Then we went after the bitches, with contact nets. When we touched down we counted twenty-three all of them white except for this one. The clients finished off twenty-two of them right there and then. It was a total massacre… They had paid to slay the trophies not catch them. Well after a lot of problems I managed to keep this one. A bit of luck, don’t you think?”
The guide licked his lips and moved the statuesque black woman closer by pulling on her leash until she was seated on his knees.
“What about those tits?” Hunter asked as he grabbed the woman’s breasts by the base and showed them to killer, making the little bells tinkle gaily.
“Impressive” responded Killer.
“You want to see them bouncing under the cane. They are adorable… It’s one of the ‘disadvantages’ of her not wearing a remote control bracelet.”
“What do you mean?” Asked Killer confusedly. Every outrage the guide told him made him even sicker…
“Well it’s not very practical… Amongst other things I have to chain her so she doesn’t get ‘lost’ and train her with such rudimentary methods as physical mistreatment and psychological terror. The truth is that the bracelet is much cleaner, a pair of pulsations and that’s that.”
Killer remained silent for a few moments. His guts were being eaten up with jealousy at the way Hunter brutally manhandled the phenomenal breasts.
“Well to me it seems much more interesting that way, the old fashioned way” he sighed fixing his gaze on the woman’s beautiful face.
Atira momentarily changed her pained expression for one of defiance, of scorn even. She was a proud woman who looked down on guys like Killer.
Killer was so offended by her continuing disdain that he would have a given a year of his life to flog her breasts there and then and make her swallow her damned pride.
“You are right there, friend” agreed Hunter, “The old fashioned ways are definitely enjoyable, but you should be able to see, better than any one, how much fun a bracelet can be if used with imagination. Do you remember the shock every time you got horny? Well it works the other way too. You give a couple of orders and ‘snap’… You have made the most frigid chick in the world into a raving nympho. Can you imagine this black ‘splitass’ crazy for your balls?”
Killer sighed. Yes he could imagine it perfectly.
“And how does she work without it?” He asked slyly, wanting to avenge the slave’s scorn.
“You mean this one?” Replied Hunter seizing the statuesque black woman by her hair.
Killer nodded with a malicious smile.
“She is very proud but her slut’s body always betrays her.”
The guide twisted the woman’s head by her hair and looked lasciviously into her eyes.
Atira started to tremble…
“Why don’t you show our friend how much of a slut you are?” Suggested Hunter without taking his eyes off his slave.
“I would love that,” said Killer hastily, his voice trembling.
“Well you heard him… So get on your knees in front of my friend.” Ordered Hunter.
The fantastic black woman stood up and obeyed, always keeping her head held high and her eyes fixed on a point above Killer’s head.
“Get closer and spread your legs more…”
The slave moved closer to Killer until she was a few inches from him, with her knees a good foot apart.
“Take off the wrap, slave…”
Killer was in ecstasy as he set his gaze on the perfectly outlined pubis.
“Now, nigger, you are going to open your cunt with one hand and stroke yourself with the fingers of the other until I tell you to stop… “And don’t take your eyes of my friends eyes!”
The statuesque black woman swallowed and clenched her jaws, but even then she couldn’t avoid giving a pathetic little moan when her fingers touched her clitoris.
Killer licked his lips in admiration; this guy knew what he was doing… The sight that this slave was giving him was worth the whole price of the journey… He let his gaze wonder over her open thighs, silky, endless, trembling; over the mountainous breasts squeezed together in between the arms, they were hard, firm and proud. He drank in the dark, erect nipples, full of passion and about to burst, the huge black eyes, desperate now, humiliated, on the verge of tears… The woman’s breathing was agitated; her shoulders and breasts heaving horrified. The little bells gaily tinkled on the very tips of those breasts…
“She is a real hot babe…” Hunter proudly remarked.
“Are you going to let her cum?” Asked Killer returning the woman her scornful looks.
“At least twice” replied the guide. “It leaves her cunt lovely and silky for the fuck.”
A most fascinating and horrifying story
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