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Introduction:

Chose your own Horror: A Farmhouse is invaded by a sadistic rapist. The family is held hostage and tortured.
Dwayne pulled his car into the driveway and parked it behind the house. He killed the engine and let Malcolm out of the back seat.

"You've been a good boy," he said as he led the dog into the backyard and let it free. "Have fun now, I'll check on you in a little while." He closed the gate to the white picket fence in the backyard and walked casually up the stairs of the wrap around porch and opened the back door. He turned on the kitchen lights and took a beer out of the refrigerator. He took a drink and then stripped off his clothes. He wanted them to see his beautiful black visage in all its glory. He wanted them to see him naked. He wanted them to know that, before he took their lives, they were going to get fucked.

He walked into the dining room, as if he owned the house. He did own the house. At the moment he was in power. The demon had surfaced and Dwayne Milford Brown once more had the power over both life and death. It was Dwayne Brown, the Black man, the poor uneducated Nigger that had control over this white family. It was his world now. It was his America. And the demon would bask in its power and glory.

He changed pulled his ski mask over his head, he snapped his surgical gloved over his hands, took his knife out of his play kit, and then hoisted the heavy sports bag over his shoulder. He grabbed the beer off the kitchen table and walked into the living room.

There they were, just as he had left them when he went out to grab his car and his best friend. They were bound and gagged, each secured to one of the dining room chairs. He had taken them down stairs one-by-one after he subdued them. Their arms bound behind their backs. Their legs bound to the chairs. They were just as he had left them, sitting together as a family, watching the TV.

He had taken them downstairs one at a time. He started with little Caitlin. "Kitty," was what her mother called her. Beautiful little Kitty. She was eleven-years-old, with orange-red hair and bright blue eyes. She was wearing her cute little pink pajamas with the white unicorns and a little white tank top. She was the easiest. So little, so light. She had cried and trembled when he came back into her room, but offered him little resistance.

Then he took the older sister downstairs. Colleen, fifteen-years-old, petite, slender, blonde, with the same beautiful blue eyes her younger sister had. She had been too old to wear pajamas to bed. It was her loss. She would have to sit in that chair in nothing but her white cotton panties and football jersey until he decided otherwise.

Then Becky, the mother. She was a pain in the ass. The fat little bitch had let herself go. Her daughters might have been sleek and beautiful and petite, the very pictures of beauty, but mother was a plumper. He had to drag her fat ass through the hall and down the stairs into the living.

The husband, James, was just as fat. Fat, rich, and white. The body of the complacent. The body of a man that could afford to eat too much. A middle-aged white man content enough in his wealth and power that he could let himself go while he lived off the money generated by exploited immigrant labor. Out of everyone in the house, he was the guiltiest, and Dwayne let the hairy bastard roll down the stairs and tied him to the chair in nothing but hit dirty white briefs.

They were all there, one big happy family, all tied up and gagged in front of their enormous flat screen television. Dwayne made a mental note to grab the TV when he finally left the house. The TV would snag him some much-needed money, as would the jewelry he found in the bedroom and a few other scattered items. That's what he saw so far. There would certainly be more. By the time he was done with them, they would tell him everything, just out of the hopes that he would stop.

He walked in front of the television and looked the family over. He made a move at Caitlin, the little redhead, just to watch her jump. Just to hear her scream into her gag. And she didn't disappoint. She actually proved to be quite the crowd pleaser. She pissed herself.

Dwayne hadn't noticed it at first. He had been too busy laughing at her fear to see the dark spot form on her little pink pajama bottoms. He grinned when he finally noticed it.

"Your little girl pissed herself. Your dirty little cunt pissed herself." He made like he was going to attack her again. "You are just going to have to sit in it little bitch." It was a shame, he was thinking he would play with her first.

"I know, you're wondering what I'm going to do to your family," Dwayne said as he walked over to Daddy. "You might even be wondering if you're going to live long enough to find out." He held the knife to the father's throat. "Which would be worse for you? Would it pain you more if I killed you now, so that you'd never find out or would it be worse if I let you live and watch?"

Dwayne knelt down by the fat man, they were almost the same age, just a few years different and yet they looked so different from one another. It made Dwayne wonder if it was in the genes, if white people had evolved to age faster.

"Let's see that little Irish curse of yours," he said as he slid the knife under the elastic band of Daddy's briefs and cut them off. "A good family has no secrets; they know everything about each other."

"Looks like Daddy isn't circumcised." Dwayne grunted as he yanked the briefs out from under the father's fat ass. He held them up so the family could see.
"How does a man with such a little cock wear underwear this fuckin' big?" He laughed. "Shit stain, Daddy doesn't clean his ass good enough."

He pushed the briefs in little Caitlin's face, making sure to rub the shit stain on her nose. "Little girls that piss themselves get to smell daddy's dirty undies." He said as he rubbed the briefs over the sobbing eleven-year-old's face.

"It's funny right?" Dwayne asked as he stood up again, "you'd all be laughin' if it weren't for the gags. What's it like? You can see each other but not talk to one another. You can't comfort each other, even while a big, naked, Black man is threatening to do how knows what to you?"

"You're a fat piggy-bitch," he pointed to the mother. "Normally I'd start with you, being the oldest and all, but, well, you're one fat ass white cunt. I bet you if I pull you're panties down to your knees your pussy will still be in them. Isn't that right? Because you're such a fat bitch, I'm going to have to start with something a little more attractive."

He pointed to Colleen. "If your mommy was in better shape, I might not have to do this to you."

Dwayne grabbed Colleen's chair and pulled her in front of the television. He turned her to face the family.

"Look at this," he said as he pulled the sleeve of the daughter's football jersey. "This is fucking Illinois? How the hell does a fifteen-year-old girl, in the middle of fucking Illinois, get away with wearing a fucking Dallas Cowboys jersey?"

Dwayne shook his head, "that shit ain't right. Fucking white people. You all need to learn some fucking loyalty."

Dwayne grabbed pulled the shirt away from the teen and slowly slit it up the middle. "You live in fucking Illinois, you should be a Bears fan. I know, they suck, but that's what this world is all about you know, loyalty. You don't have loyalty, you ain't a human being, you're an animal." He cut the sleeves free and tossed the shirt across the room.

"Now see, my ass is from Detroit, you know I'm a Lion's fan. Even when they suck I'm a Lions fan, because I know what loyalty is." He slid his knife between the teen's perky tits and cut her bra in two.

He knelt behind the crying teen and grabbed one of her breasts from behind. He watched her mother and father as they looked away in shame.

"What's a matter, Daddy? You don't like to see a Nigger play with your little girl's titties? Her nice white titties? Her pump pink nipples? You don't like it when I touch them? When I give them a little squeeze like this? You don't like it when I twist them around?"

"LOOK AT ME!" Dwayne screamed as he pinched the teen's nipple. "Do you not like it because I'm a psychopath or because I'm an African-American? You're not a racist, are you daddy?"

Dwayne licked his way up Colleen's neck. "She tastes real good." He slowly molested the teen's perky B-cups. He twisted them in his hands; he liked the way her flesh felt through his surgical gloves. He would have liked it more if he touched her with his own two hands, but he didn't want to make this personnel. He didn't want the teen to think he was human. He squeezed her breasts as hard as he could.

"Shall we keep going? How long has it been since you've seen your little girl all naked and shit?"

He walked in front of Colleen. "Yeah, you made me real heard. This big Black cock is going to be inside of you real soon." He knelt down, grabbed her white cotton panties, and ripped them off her in one clean motion.

Dwayne took a step back and sighed. "What the fuck is that? That's not going to do at all. You got a ducking jungle between your legs bitch. I'm not going to fuck that. We gotta get your cunt cleaned up, girl."

To be Continued...What do you want to happen next?
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