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Fine Brown Flesh
By Perry Jones


CHAPTER SEVEN


NOW, with his big, black hands he reached underneath Belle's delightfully soft yet somehow firm ass. She had no idea what he was up to now. Was he going to masturbate her, or shove his entire fist up her snatch?


Neither. He was placing his forearm so that as her pussy came to rest on it, he was able to loop his other arm around her shoulders and left her off the ground. Her arms were still secured behind her back at the wrists by the red cord, and her shoulders were also somewhat restrained by virtue of the shirt that was pushed down around her shoulders. She was helpless to resist, and could do nothing when she realized she was being lifted off the floor and taken away, somewhere, into the recesses of one of the many rooms in this place.


George placed her on the bed, the kind with several vertical columns, making all types of fantasies distinct possibilities in the realm of reality.


Once she was on the bed he flipped her over with one single move of his hand on her back. Now, he shoved another pillow, this one a little larger, under her hips, and at the same time he raised her skirt back up above her hips. He opened the zipper on the side, making it even easier for him to get the material to bunch, now just above her ass.


"So beautiful," he murmured as he gently stroked it.


"Aaahh...." Belle moaned as she felt his hands giving her a nice anal massage, all over both her ass cheeks. The pain in her tits was finally beginning to subside, and as the legends of sexuality had it, when the pain of physical, sexual punishment abated, it was usually replaced by an intense, sexual heat, that needed to be fulfilled in the most immediate, sensual way.


She was enjoying what was being done to he, grateful she didn't have to remain on her knees, which had become somewhat sore from being rested upon in the living room. Now, she was able to relax, except of course for the hands still tied behind her, and let him do whatever he wanted, to her.


Which he fully intended to do.


Wordlessly, he spread the cheeks of her luscious ass, and lowered his head, so that his mouth could rest on her lovely ass-hole.


"Mmmmmm...." she sighed, through closed lips. She loved the feel of his mouth on her ass, and the way he expertly used his tongue to get into her most private of pleasure palaces.


She didn't even mind when he reached over for the bottle of pale pink liquid that had been resting on one of his night tables, and with one deft motion, opened the tapered spout and brought it to the tip of her ass-hole.


"Now just relax, bitch," he said, softly but firmly. "This is going to cause you intense pleasure."


She swallowed, and soon enough, as two of his finger spread her ass-hole open for him, she felt the nozzle of whatever it was that was entering her, slide up and go into her ass-hole.


He held it there for a while, letting the feeling sink in. Then, when her bottom stopped wiggling and her sighs became less frequent, he suddenly squeezed the soft bottle, sending a fiery liquid blast of heated, burning, yet very oozy liquid deep into the recesses of her rectum.


"Oh, my God ... what is that...." she gasped, but knew enough not to expect any type of answer. Whatever it was, it was having an incredible effect on her insides. She could feel it creeping up, almost as if it were a loose solid, into her bowels, grabbing at the end as if it were a million tongues, and gently massaging her in the most delectable way.


There was no way that she could remain motionless under this kind of treatment. Almost instantly she began to buck her hips, moving them around, trying almost to fuck the air. She blushed deeply, knowing that her motions were putting on the most lascivious, private performance for George, who showed his appreciation by gently patting her bottom with his open hand.


"Yes, baby," he said, encouraging her on.


Then he gave the bottle another squeeze, and another blast of the special liquid shot up inside of her.


"OH ... THAT'S SO ... INCREDIBLE," she shouted, as once again, he'd sent her on a sexual spasm of delight, making her toss and turn and cream, struggling to remove her bonds.


Again he squeezed the bottle, and again it performed it's magic on her, making her twitch and scream in a mixture of pleasure and pain, as the stuff inside her began to increase in temperature, and pull at her bowels. It was the most delectable of high colonics, and something she had never experienced before.


On top of this she felt his lips, heated now with the passion of the special show she was forced to put on for him, covering her ass with kisses. He squeezed her bottom cheeks and lightly smacked them, as he gently removed the nozzle from her ass, causing her to sigh in the most delighted manner.


"Oh ... that was so ... good, George ... you ... you treat me so ... good...."


She didn't have long to wait for the treatment to continue.


He reached for a tube of what appeared to be some greasy kind of jelly.


Meanwhile, Belle had the vague desire that she had to vacate, that the liquid inside of her was a cleansing formula. Knowing that George wouldn't let her do anything without his permission, she had to hold it in, causing her to squeeze the cheeks of her ass together, a pleasant viewing for George that brought a smart slap down on them.


"Ouch...." Belle said, as the sting of his slap caught her up in surprise. Then, she felt once again her ass-hole being worked on, this time having the grease applied to it in such a fashion as to make it easier to get something very big and very long inside of her.


She had to admit to herself she was filled with dread as she felt the tip of his enormous dick exploring her dark secret passage.


"Not there ... oh, God, not there...." she moaned, but her pleadings fell on predictably deaf ears. With one sure thrust, he was able to get the head in.


In spite of the pain, which was to be expected, there was a sudden burst of pleasure, which was not. She tried to spread her thighs for him,to get more of him inside of her, and George, not missing the signals, slowly began to move up and in, until, a full ten minutes later, his dick was buried deep into her ass-hole.


"What am I doing to you...." he asked her in a firm voice, which underscored his thrusts.


"Fff ... fffucking me...." she managed to get out, as her whole body rocked under his motions.


"Where," he demanded to know.


"In ... in my ... IN MY ASSHOLE...." She screamed as the waves of erotic passion swept over her, and in a heated flush, made her come, pussy juice flowing out of her like fresh squeezed orange drink, as she bucked and kicked up against the bed and once again lost her fragile lock on her emotional state, as the tears began to flow.


George put his hands on either side of her garter-belted hips and began in earnest to give her a thorough fucking of her ass. He was determined to make this the most memorable fucking she'd ever received.


To date.


He had many more plans for her, and this was his way of letting her know, yet again, that she was nothing but his slave, nothing but his usable, disposable, slave woman, at his beck and call, ready to be humiliated, stripped, tied up and abused at his whim.


It was so nice to be needed.


When he felt himself about to come, he redoubled his efforts yet again, and with a hot, supercharged bang of his cock, he shot Jetstream after Jetstream of his hot, smoking semen deep into her ass-hole.


The effect was incredible. The cum from his cock mingled with the potion to produce a gurgling, bubbling effect.


"I have to ... I have to go...." Belle begged, as she lay there, squeezing her ass together to try and prevent anything from coming out that wasn't supposed to.


"I know," George said, once more scooping her up with his hands and carrying her, this time to the big bathroom at one end of the room, where he carefully placed her on the seat.


All right, she told herself, now what.


"You may go," he said, folding his hands and standing before her.


"With you here?" she asked, humbly.


He smiled and shook his head.


"That's right, darling. With me right here."


She'd never been so humiliated in her life. She was being made to defecate before his eyes. Closing hers, she let the liquid combination come shooting out of her, and the feeling was wonderful indeed, as if some cork had been pulled that had kept her-jammed up for all this time.


George studied her face, and watched as she went before him.


When she was finished, George made her stand and bend over completely, so he could bathe her bottom and finish her off, making sure she was squeaky clean.


Then he led her back to the living room, told her to stand erect, and undid her bonds.


"You may go now," he said to her.


"That's all?" She asked.


"For now," he said.


"Thank you ... master," she added on, this time without having to be told.


There was something very pleasing to her to being a white slave-type for a black dude like George. It made for a hell of a way to pass a Monday night, for one thing among others.


Later, Belle decided to treat herself to a huge dinner. She was, after all, cleaned out in several senses of the word, and a good meal was just the thing she needed to make her insides feel refilled.


She took herself to the most expensive restaurant she could find, over on the east side where the linen on the table was finer that the sheets most people slept on.


She ordered a huge salad, a martini, she had a couple of vegetables, and a filet steak, which she enjoyed with a glass or two of red wine.


Finally, sated, both sexually and otherwise, she was ready to take herself home.


She entered her apartment and stripped her clothes off, including her garter belt and stockings. She was stark naked and about to take a shower when the phone rang.


No, she thought to herself. It couldn't be. He couldn't be calling me now. So soon.


She ran to the phone and picked it up. Her heart nose-dived as she heard the familiar voice of Steve on the other end.


Steve was her sometime boyfriend, a junior Exec who was the type to fuck and run in the entire space of five minutes.


If she'd never met George, she might almost have been content to keep fucking Steve, giving him the blowjobs he so coveted, and not thinking too much about how what she really wanted to get fucked.


The differences between Steve and George were the differences between night and day. Between a big black cock and a normally small white one.


"Hello, baby," Steve said, trying to sound sexy, but coming off as only silly.


"What do you want," Belle heard herself saying.


"You know," he said, greasier than a Pizza's.


"No I don't. I really don't." There was enough ice in her voice to chill a soda pop.


"I want to ... come over." for the first time, she heard the insecurity in Steve's voice. Usually when he phoned, it was as if he were doing a favor, and Belle always said sure, come on over and fuck me, hoping he'd be able to stay hard more than the couple of minutes he did.


"Well you can't," Belle heard herself say.


"Why not? Is someone else there?"


Poor boy, she thought. There was almost a panic in his voice.


"No, silly. I wouldn't do that to you."


"Oh," he said, sounding relieved.


"I just came from somebody's house. A man. A real man." She emphasized the real, to make sure Steve didn't miss the point.


There was a long silence on the phone.


"What do you mean," he finally said.


"I mean that I've just been so thoroughly fucked up my ass that I'm afraid if you came over with your little dick, I wouldn't even know if it was inside of me. So fuck off and leave me alone, okay?"


She waited for his answer. He was silent for a long time before saying anything.


"Belle...." was all he could get out.


She chuckled, took the phone away from her ear, looked at it the way people do sometimes, and slammed it down.


The nerve of some guys.


The phone rang again. She picked it up and shouted into it. "I THOUGHT I TOLD YOU.”


"Told me what?" It was George.


Belle blushed a deep, long, crimson mushroom.


"Oh...." she stammered. "I'm sorry. I ... I didn't know ... I thought...."


"I just wanted to tell you thanks for a lovely evening."


"Really?" Her heart fluttered.


George laughed. "Of course really. Why else would I be calling you?"


"Right. That's right. Well, I rally had a...."


She didn't have time to finish her sentence. The phone went dead in her hand.


She took a deep breath and finally got into that shower.


Afterwards, as she was drying her hair, she sat by the window, doing some serious thinking. She was sure now what she had felt the other day was real. There was no denying it. She was falling in love with George, as much for his abuse as for his willingness to heap it upon her.


No man she had ever known had been able to break down her barriers as effectively as he'd done and open her up. He'd found all her secret places, and made her feel like a new, completely supercharged woman. He gave her the courage to tell ass-holes like Steve that there time was over, that she was no longer going to be the free pickings that they'd become used to.


So, she concluded, in her own way, becoming a slave was the true road to her liberation.


Would she be able to bear it until she next heard George's voice?


The day broke early for her, and she rose and took another shower, and except for the slight pain in her ass-hole from being so thoroughly stretched, and the remnants of the slapping across her tits, she was feeling better than she ever had.


A quick breakfast, and on to work.


She was in her office, dressed in a gorgeous black dress, with, of course, her stockings, garter belt, and this time no underwear at all. It was that kind of a Tuesday.


There was a knock on her office door as she was studing the story boards for the new beer commercial her client's had ordered.


"Come in, it's open," she said.


It was Steve. He came in, looking rather sheepish as he stood there.


Belle looked up at him, then down at her work as she spoke. "So what do you want? Didn't I make myself perfectly clear on the phone?"


"Yes, you did, but...."


"Oh, stop that stammering," she said, as she threw down the storyboard and stood up.


"Please ... I've got to see you."


"Really?" She smiled, got around her desk and went up to him. "Over there." She pointed to the sofa at one end of her office.


He looked at her, and went to where she was pointing.


"Sit down."


He did as he was told.


"Take it out," she commanded.


"What?"


"You heard me. Take it out of your pants."


"Here? Now."


"This is the last chance I'm going to give you. If you don't do exactly as I say...."


She didn't have to finish her sentence. It was whipped out as fast as he could get it, and in another instant it was hard.


"All right, go ahead," she said, smiling, standing in front of him, her arms crossed on her chest.


"Do what...." he said. "I don't understand."


"Yes you do. Masturbate. Now!" There was an edge of threat to her voice.


Steve blushed deeply, looked around, then down, at his own pulsating cock. Slowly, in severe humiliation, he placed one hand on his dick and slowly began to move it back and forth.


"That's right...." Belle said, watching him jerk off in front of her.


"Mmmmmmff" he said, involuntarily.


"What are you doing?" She said to him, sternly. "You ... you know...." he said, ashamed to look her in the eye.


"Say it. Say it or you'll be sorry," she said to him. Tm ... I'm...."


"Come on, Steve. Say it!"


"Jerking off," he managed to say, and-at that moment, he came, sending short spurts of his own cum shooting into the air. She smiled as it came down on his pants, over his shirt and on his hands.


"That's a good boy," she cooed.


"Thank you," he said, out of breath.


"Now lick your fingers clean. Go ahead, lick them."


She was merciless.


Almost in tears, he began to lick them. She watched, fascinated, as he did exactly as he was told.


When he was finished, she tossed him a box of tissues, for which to clean the rest of himself, as best he could, knowing that the stains would be visible to everyone the rest of the day, the inevitable stains of self-abuse.


"Now get out of here. You make me sick."


He got up, tried to say something, realized it was futile, and left the room.


Belle began laughing when he closed the door behind her, and kept it up until there were tears coming out of her eyes. He was so pathetic! He was so ... eager to jerk off in front of her eyes! She loved it. Absolutely loved it.


Now she was able to go back to her work, feeling even better than when she had come in, earlier that day.


She spent the rest of that morning and part of the afternoon in a series of conferences. She told her pool secretary, outside in the main hall, to keep a close watch on her phone, that she was expecting an important phone call.


One of the secretaries gave her that special smile that women reserve for each other when they know there is sexual business in the air. She wasn't stupid. She knew that the sudden change in Belle's dress and demeanor wasn't due to a new diet, or a great movie she'd seen, there was only one reason why a woman changes her look so radically, only one reason why a woman has the certain blush to her skin, only one reason why a woman moves her hips in that certain fashion.


It means she was getting fucked by some new cock, and she was feeling head to toe, with pussy in between, like a brand new woman.


Or a brand new prostitute.


That was more like it.


"Sure, honey," the woman said, wondering if maybe Belle's new guy had a friend for her. If she only knew.


The rest of the afternoon passed with no word from George.


Belle had to admit it, she was disappointed. She was hoping he'd call, as he did the day before, and instruct her to get into the waiting limo at the end of the day, and be driven over to be thoroughly ravished by him, and his huge dick.


But no call came.


She went home and decided that he would have to call her at home this evening. How could he let a day go by without inflicting some new private treat in her, and making his daily deposit of semen into the very innards of her being.


But no call came.


Nine o'clock came and went.


So did ten.


He wasn't going to call. She knew that now.


She got into bed, and a wave of sadness crept over her, as she suddenly became quite certain that she would never hear from him again.


What had she done wrong?


She tried to figure it out as slowly, the black relief of sleep came and took over her mind.


She dreamt of being fucked in the ass by George, while Steve was made to sit in a corner and jerk off.


Not bad ... not bad at all.


She was able to get herself off, but it just wasn't the same thing.


She knew that, of course, but still, white slave beggars can't be choosers, she told herself.


Whatever that meant, as she drifted off into a blissful sleep.


To Be Continued
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