White Meat



 
White Meat:
BDSM Stories
2010-02-27
wo Angry Black brothers take their revenge on pretty White girls

Graham folded his arms across his powerful chest. He was no longer
weightlifting competitively, but his chest was still massive, with
heavily defined pectoral muscles. His stomach was thin and his abdominal
muscles rippled up its length. His arms were thick, his biceps twice the
thickness of most mens arms. His hips were slender, his legs well muscled.

Not that he needed any of those muscles at the moment.

He was sitting back - slumping, really, in a comfortable chair, his legs
spread wide, eyeing the large television across the room.

The girl between his legs slid her lips slowly down the long black
length of his cock. She did so with a smooth, even movement he had
trained into her, no hesitation and no reluctance; a smooth, even, up
and down movement which ignored the discomfort of taking such a thick
cock down into her slender, young throat.

He flicked an eye down at her briefly, then away. He’d forgotten her
name. Perhaps she had, as well. And then his mind paused for a moment as
he realized he’d forgotten what she looked like, too. She was - or had
been, a blonde. He remembered that. He’d met her at a concert.

But it had been months since he’d seen her face, months since he’d used
her name - if he ever had.

He dropped his eyes to her again, watching as her straining pink lips
moved carefully up the length of his cock. He watched inch after inch of
glistening black meat emerge from between her lips, felt her tongue
swirling against the underside of the head, felt her sucking
rhythmically, then watched as her mouth descended again.

He’d taught her well - whatever her name was.

She hadn’t been ugly, he knew that. He’d not have taken an ugly girl.
Still, it had seemed an interesting kink to, in effect, remove her face,
to reduce her to the status of a blind, faceless thing, a pet as it were.

He’d placed thick cotton pads over her eyes, not for her comfort, so
much as to reduce the shape her eye sockets would otherwise make on the
black hood he’d placed over her shaved head. The hood was formless,
shapeless. Her nose was crushed in against her face, with two tiny air
hoses running around behind her and merging at the base of the hood at
the back of her neck. The only opening to the hood was the round hole
over her mouth. And that was blocked, except when in use, by a thick,
fat, penis gag he shoved between her lips. The black strap of the gag
was three inches wide, helping to hide the slight bulge her crushed nose
made, and buckled tightly behind her head, locking in place - as the
hood was locked.

When had he gotten her?

Four months, he thought. And within a day of taking her in she’d become
the hooded sex toy who knelt before him now. She was effectively blind.
Nor did she speak. For any word, even one, while her gag was out would
draw a whipping which would leave her barely conscious.

Her breasts were full, heavy, and had seen no covering since he’d
brought her home. What support they received came from the two thin
silver chains attached to her inch wide nipple rings. The chains led up
to the collar around her throat, and were of a precise length calculated
to be taut against her nipples with her standing upright. Of course,
every movement of her breasts, such as walking, would pull her breasts
downwards and tug repeatedly against those chains, but her fat brown
nipples tolerated such teasing more easily than they did the cut of a whip.

He sighed as her lips squeezed together around the base of his cock.
Having twelve inches of meat down a girl’s throat was something which
made a man feel like a man. He smiled and lifted his feet, placing them
on the girl’s back, jamming them in against the sides of her leather
clad arms.

The leather sleeve he’d fitted around her arms was another device which
had not been removed in months. He liked her blind, for it made her even
more helpless and docile. But she was largely useless for any kind of
work that way, unable even to feed herself. So he had forced her arms
back so tightly her elbows had ground together, slid the long leather
sleeve over them, then a pair of heavy straps to double the strength.
The straps were locked in place with a pair of small padlocks much like
the ones around her collar and hood. He wondered, idly, where the keys were.

He reached down with a large hand and placed it firmly on top of the
girl’s head. She did not need to be restrained. She knew how to obey
now. She kept her lips in place, working them as best she could around
his cock, her tongue working against that part of the shaft it could
reach while crushed down against the floor of her mouth.

He held his hand in place, reaching forward with the other, filling it
with her soft, warm breast, squeezing and kneading it comfortably,
letting his black fingers squeeze firmly into the pale white flesh. Then
he sighed and withdrew his hands, giving her head a small slap to signal
her to continue.

"You going out tonight?"

Graham looked up and shrugged as his brother Ian padded into the room.
There was no difference between the two. Both were six four, powerfully
built, with strong jaws and shaved heads. They were twins, after all.

"I don’t know. Maybe. Hey, do you remember what her name is?"

Ian shrugged. "Does it matter?"

"Just wondered. I can’t remember."

"Whore. It’s as good a name as any."

Graham smiled. "That’s a bit general, isn’t it? That’s what you call all
women."

"It’s all the name they merit."

He moved closer and stood behind the girl, then knelt and reached out
for her hips. His big hands folded around them and jerked her bottom
back roughly, then slapped her buttocks an instant before her knees
shifted widely apart.

Graham yawned and checked his watch while his brother drew his cock out
and pumped it with his big fist.

"I’m getting a little bored with her," Graham said.

"That’s like saying you’re bored with the toilet or the dish washer. She
does her task like any other... "

"Appliance?" Graham asked with a grin.

"If you like."

Ian rubbed the gleaming black head of his cock up and down the girl’s
shaved sex, feeling the hard little bumps of the rings through her
clitoris and the bottom of her sex lips. A small chain was attached to
the latter, linked to the base of the fat butt plug thrust into her
anus. The brothers liked anal sex, and hadn’t the patience to wait for
their "appliance" to open up sufficient to take them into her when they
were in the mood.

That this caused her pain was irrelevant. The problem was that both men
were intelligent and logical. They knew how big, how thick they were,
and knew that continuing to ram them up the girl’s backside with little
time for her muscles to get used to them would inevitably lead to damage
which would require hospitalization. Either that or they’d have to get a
new appliance.

Ian’s cock hardened into the thick, foot long pole of Black flesh
similar to the one now filling the girl’s throat, and he thrust it into
the girl’s sex, gripped her hips, and began to use her.

"I did see a girl I fancied the other day," Graham said as the girl’s
body began to shake to his brother’s thrusting, and her smooth movements
up and down the length of his cock became uneven and jerky.

"Fancied as in you’d like to tear her clothes off, spread her legs, and
ram it up her cunt, you mean," Ian said, thrusting casually.

"Yeah, and not one likely to be missed by many. Just a squalid little
bar girl."

Ian nodded, though he reflected that Graham’s class consciousness was
altogether more arrogant and unconscious than his own. Not that he
wasn’t arrogant, of course. He would never be so foolish as to deny the
arrogance bred into his bone at his father’s knee. He and Graham were
born into a wealthy family, after all. True, his father, an immigrant
from St Lucia, had made his wealth through opening a series of appliance
shops, something to be sneered at by the true blue bloods of England.
But the Scots were a more practical lot, and however he got his money
and wherever he came from his father had been a respected man in
Glasgow, a poor, squalid city filled with the unemployed and underemployed.

It had pleased the brothers to bring in the pretty White girls from down
at their heels neighbourhoods, impress them with the size of the elegant
estate their father had purchased, and then use them like cheap whores.
It had pleased them even more to know that the lower classes of Scotland
were all irrepressible bigots, and that the girls who never would have
lowered themselves to even dating a Black boy had been willing to bend
over and take it from behind at evidence of all that wealth, and the
merest hints that they could find jobs for them or their families.

And if the sex was often rough and the two young black men who were,
even then, powerfully built, had forced the issue a little, had taken
liberties, had left bruises on bodies and spirits, well, so what? The
law in the U.K. was still very class conscious, and the little tarts
knew they’d need more than their words to get the police interested in
visiting the estate of a man like their father.

Besides, what young Scottish girl wanted to admit she’d been sucking a
black boy’s cock when his brother had come in from behind and forced his
cock into her? A story like that would make the police look at her like
a cheap whore anyway. And what proper Scots policeman - invariably a
bigot - was going to go accusing rich families of anything on the word
and behalf of a whore?

And so that became one of their favourite games. One brother would get a
girl naked and go at her, and the other would appear and join in. The
girls usually struggled, but not for long. They knew irresistible force
when they saw and felt it. They were too aware of the wealth around
them, and of their own positions as poor and powerless. And they still
had that greed, he thought, the greed which told them that if they could
stand the painful thrusting into their holes, the rough hands bruising
their arms and thighs, the painful pinches and squeezing of their
breasts, well, perhaps some of that money might find its way into their
pockets.

Whores, all of them, Ian thought.

But while he too looked down at working types - he and his brother never
having had to work, and having had the finest of educations - he knew
the dangers of that kind of thinking. This was America, after all, and
it was far less class conscious than the U.K. And the bar girls of today
could easily be the middle class suburban mothers of tomorrow - or the
products of middle class suburban fathers who would raise hell if they
were harmed.

He picked up the pace, his hips slamming into the girl’s upraised
backside as he skewered her with his long, thick cock. He could hear her
gurgling grunts now as he rammed himself into her, and sadistically
yanked back harder on her hips, feeling his stiff cock slicing through
the thin elastic flesh of her sex, jamming up hard into the very bottom
of her cunt with, he knew, painful force.

He reached beneath her, filling his open hands with her breasts, then
crushing them up against her rib cage before closing his fingers in and
squeezing even tighter, kneading her soft fleshy breasts with cruel
force as she whined softly around his brother’s cock and trembled in pain.

"Fucking White bitch whore," he growled.

He saw Graham pulling back, then gripping the girl’s throat in one big
hand as he pumped his slick cock with the other. He knew the girl would
be sucking desperately on the head just inside her mouth, for if she
displeased him now she would be bruised for days to come. But Graham
grunted and his eyes closed as he came, and Ian knew well the size of
the heavy white wads which would be pumping into the girl’s mouth. His
brother was odd that way. He’d never seen any man come as much as him.
He could half fill a small cup with the amount of semen he pumped into a
girl.

And he wanted it filling their mouths, not dropping neatly down their
throats into their bellies. They would know the taste of him flooding
over their tongues and filling their mouths to the roofs, making their
cheeks puff out as they let it come and come, waiting for his permission
to swallow.

Though in this case, he thought, it was a waste, for Graham would be
unable to see the look on the little white whore’s face as she swallowed
a thick warm mouth full of come.

The girl’s slender body jerked and shuddered to his powerful thrusts as
Graham finished. The girl swallowed repeatedly, letting his warm juice
swirl down her throat and into her belly. Then he grunted and sat back.
The girl had little time to enjoy her empty mouth, however, for he soon
picked up the thick leather penis and thrust it through her lips,
letting Ian grip the straps and pull them back tightly behind her to
buckle and lock in place.

He pulled back then, sliding his gleaming black staff out of the girl’s
straining sex lips. He reached for one of her ankles as he rose to his
feet, and her leg was yanked out from under her so she fell flat on the
floor. He held her ankle negligently as he walked across the room,
dragging her behind. Her upper torso slid along the carpeted floor while
her free leg flailed and bounced lifelessly.

She weighed not much more than a hundred pounds, and he lifted her
effortlessly, attaching the leather restraint which was never off her
ankle to a hook dangling from the ceiling. He caught her free ankle,
then, lifting it up and apart, attaching the ankle restraint to another
hook so the girl hung with her legs spread obscenely open, her head just
above the floor.

Then he thrust down into her again, pumping rapidly as his own come
approached, big hands on her small, spread buttocks, long black fingers
spread wide, kneading the soft warm flesh. He sighed as his come spilled
out, as it filled her slippery little pussy and drained down inside her.
He was trying to breed her, and convinced that the more come he poured
into her while she was upside down the better the odds of her becoming
pregnant.

"What if it’s a boy?" Graham asked from across the room.

Ian shrugged. If it was a boy he’d throw it out, dump it somewhere. But
a girl he would raise from birth as his mindless sex toy. Perhaps he’d
even keep her blinded as well. He let himself imagine that, a girl who
was blind from birth, knowing only the feel of hands and cocks on her
body, having no idea what they actually looked like. He’d have to have
someone looking after her until she got older, of course. He didn’t go
for little girls, but money would buy anything in the United States. In
that way it was identical to the U.K.

"So tell me about this whore," he said as he looked at the upside down
girl hanging before him.

"Nice face, full red lips, gorgeous legs and ass, slim young body,"
Graham said, "Lovely hair you can wrap around your fist. Every time I
look at her I imagine those lips wrapped around my black cock."

"And mine," Ian said with a cold smile.

"Of course."

Ian did up his zip and padded across the floor to sit next to his brother.

"I’m bored with the usual, though," he said. "You can’t even remember
the whore’s name. That’s because there have been so many whores."

"You want a nun? A schoolgirl?"

Ian shook his head impatiently. "I want to play a little game," he said,
his lips curling up into a cruel smile. "Have you ever read the Story of O?"

Graham shrugged. "Heard of it."

"I want the next whore to want what we do to her."

"Huh?" Graham frowned.

`"I want to mess with her pathetic little mind," Ian said. "I want her
to love us. I want her to put the chains on willingly. I want her to get
off on the whip."

"There aren’t too many bitches like that around," Graham said with a snort.

"I want to take a normal whore and turn her into one. I want her to love
us, you know, like cults do."

"Brainwash her?"

"Something like that. I want to twist her little mind and make her a
little poodle, a little crawling bitch to us."

"We’ve done that before."

Ian shook his head impatiently. "I don’t mean that. That’s not a
challenge. I want a girl who puts the collar around her own neck with
her eyes shining with love and lust and gives us her body and her soul."

Graham made a face. "Sounds like a lot of work for some gash. We’ve
already got one."

He pointed at the girl hanging from her ankles.

"But the challenge, the sport of it," Ian said with a leer. "That’s
what’s fun."

"It’ll take longer."

"You have somewhere you need to be?"

Graham shook his head.

"So we’ll take your little bar girl, pull her brain out of her skull,
and turn her into a smiling little fuck toy without even needing to rape
her body - because we’ll rape her mind instead.."

"Do I still get to ram my cock down her throat?" Graham growled.

"Of course! Only she’ll be eager for it!"

"I don’t give a shit if she’s eager for it. Sometimes I like it better
when I fold my fist around her throat and watch her eyes bulge as she
feels it going down. But if you want to have a little sport with the
slut I don’t mind. This city is full of breeding material. I can wait
for this one."

------------------------------------------------------------------------
From the ebook: White Meat, by Argus
Argus books have been published by Virgin Nexus, Silver Moon, Star,
Olympia, Chimera, and Beeline. His ebooks can be downloaded at
http://www.ebookblue.com

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