Deep Clean

"This is a toilet. It's what people who aren't backyard niggers use to piss and shit in." Carter explained happily.

In the short time Vanessa had known the sadistic white man, he only seemed happy when introducing some new misery to her.

She stared into the deep, white porcelain bowl, studying it intimately. The flared, rubbery back handle of a toilet brush shifted in the ring gag holding it in place, in her mouth.

The more creative the misery, the more humiliating, the better.

It didn't help at all that Vanessa had just begged for a bathroom break of her own, or that Carter had filmed it - zooming on her hot, wet vagina while she squatted for him and gushed out her pee in the most enclosed area by the patio door he could find. 'Her spot', as he put it. Her particular pee spot.

Afterwards he and Brand had started arranging the elaborate getup for her first cleaning assignment, with the whole house to follow.

Carter backhanded the big, bristled brush hanging from Vanessa's mouth. "This is going to take forever. A fuckin' shame you can't be trusted with your hands free." His wide grin was at complete odds with his words. He didn't even fake that he was actually disappointed in Vanessa's state of bondage - like Brand had when he explained the negress' condition to her with a sad, heavy voice.

Together they had put it to her several times, in several ways, but the same message. Told Vanessa why it was her fault that her hands were sheathed behind her back, forearm atop forearm, bent and buckled together in black faux leather. Why there was a spreader bar attached at her ankles, keeping her hobbled and unable to stand safely and easily without assistance - because she had been observed rubbing her thighs together, trying to... to stimulate herself. How she couldn't be trusted for even a moment with her cunt until a 'fix' came along. The whole, absurd pretext for her using her face and body to clean the house.

"You wouldn't get nothin' done if you were allowed to have free hands touching your twat all day, wouldja'?"

Again, and again, being told... and that she did want to... that she, she...

Over and over and over and reminding her when she could feel it, when she didn't need any... fuck him. The fucking prick bastard.

"Look at that thing drip." Carter brushed it with his shoe.

"Aggmm ggghh!" Vanessa gurgled, glaring.

"You're still an uppity nigger, aren't you?"

An 'uppity nigger'?! She was naked, chest thrust out, armless, on her knees with a toilet brush hanging out her gagged, drooling mouth! She had sex with... she was the lowest person, the dirtiest and lowest... lowest thing she could imagine. Uppity?! She -

She saw his face.

The colored woman killed her anger. Immediately. Buried it. She shouldn't have taken that tone. She knew better, knew that she was only going to hurt herself, get herself in deeper. Deeper trouble.

Vanessa shook her head. "A-aagggn ooghk," She burbled, as conciliatory as she could. The brush rattled inside her cheeks, shaking back and forth with her head motion. She couldn't really... her words didn't make sense. She shouldn't have... it was her fault. Her stupid fault. She - she put a little extra motion in her chest, waving her full, heavy brown knockers for Carter, her sore bare nipples.

"Stop wagging those old flapjacks around and get cleaning," Carter squirted a bit of bathroom cleaner inside the commode. "I want it spotless."

Vanessa's eyes followed the blue chemical stream. She looked again, at her future. Blue tinged the water, clouding before dispersing evenly. At the bottom the porcelain was mostly bright white, but a few small brown streaks marred it. Not hers - all her movements went by way of her daily enemas.

She looked, and shuddered, and hesitated.

"Whatsa' matter? Too good for your face brush?" Carter snorted at the absurdity of that thought, "Maybe a 'natural' girl like you," Carter grabbed her natural, nappy hair. He grabbed her natural, hairy, sticky crotch and pulled her ass up and pushed her head down. "... Don't want a brush. Maybe we should just dunk your head in there and get you usin' your tongue, cleaning all natural-like."

"Ghhgg!" Vanessa squealed her disapproval. She pressed back against Carter's touch, sucked back as much drool as she could, took one final look down before closing her eyes... and plunged her face into the bowl.

She should have kept her eyes open.

They opened, opened wide and scared when the flared end of the too-loose toilet brush handle hit the back of her throat hard and unexpectedly. Vanessa gagged hard and nearly vomited right there. Carter laughed, and her head down even further before letting her up, gasping and .

"Kinda fucks your face, don't it? I thought about tightening it up with some tape. Glad I didn't." He rubbed her pussy. Hard. "Keep going." His hand remained tangled in her hair. "Work that back. Doggy bitches like you drink out of toilets, so you never know when you're going to want it extra clean."

Vanessa tried to angle her head, the brush in the gag sideways into her teeth. She couldn't close her teeth, so she wedged it in her molars, trying to create enough tension that when she plunged down, again and again, dragged it around, that it didn't also slip back in her throat. Her eyes crossed, staring in absolute concentration at the brush jutting out from her face. Her bare jugs flopped against the side of the toilet, rubbing up and down and making an occasional fleshy slapping noise on the hard, cold surface.

"Get this place clean, slut. You've been a dirty girl, haven't you?" Carter her head down. "What you did with that boy..." He mocked. He slapped her swollen pussy. He slapped her ass.

Vanessa whimpered.

He lifted her head up, set the brush on the rim, and guided it around twice, and then the underside of the rim, swirling it even deeper.

"How's she coming?" Brand, unseen, asked from the doorway. Some of Vanessa's hair had dipped in the water, weighing it down, obscuring her peripheral vision.

"Don't you fucking stop for a second," Carter's whisper hissed venomously, right in Vanessa's ear, "Embarrass me and you'll be cleanin' everything I can think of with your tongue, especially those other toilets, I swear!"

He was serious. Vanessa knew he would. "Hhhnnn..." Knew he would like that.

"She's lazy." Carter said more loudly, pleasantly for Brand. Vanessa ignored him. She couldn't... Not with her tongue. She ground her head in circles, her neck and back going, sucking in deep breaths through her broad nostrils with her whole body effort of balancing and rotating around the toilet bowl without any use of her hands.

"Needs all kinds of supervision. Can't do anything right on her own." Vanessa felt, rather than saw Carter's resigned shrug. She worked harder, swirled harder, going down. He patted her pussy. "Whattaya' expect, though?" His next pat was a hard slap. "Get in deep, cunt!" Carter's voice roared, making Vanessa jump and thrust her head down, plunging deep.

Deep. Hard. Up and down. Vanessa pistoned her head, fucked her mouth with the brush handle. Up and down. Frothy toilet water splashed her face. The men watched.

"Well it seems she's coming along," Brand spoke casually, raising his voice over the din of Vanessa sputtering and splashing her toilet brush face, slapping her breasts against the toilet walls in her efforts.

"She's making a mess splashin' around like that, is what she's doin'," Carter observed. "Nessie! Stop that!" He swatted her ass, halting her furious toilet face plunging. "You got three other bathrooms to clean, and the rest of the house. This is just one toilet. Jesus, save some energy, nigger."

Vanessa raised her head. The brush dripped toilet water. Underneath the froth, the inside of the toilet looked brand new. She gave the brush another good shake inside the bowl to stop the dripping, rattling it inside her gag.

"Flush."

Vanessa stared at the handle, the flushing mechanism; and for a moment was utterly confounded.

"Look at those big, confused eyes. She's even dumber than she looks, ain't she?" Vanessa could hardly imagine how dumb she looked. A naked big breasted forty-one year old black woman with an oversized, white scrubbing brush hanging out her drooling face hole, dripping toilet water.

A half-hearted couple of attempts to use the brush as a makeshift appendage to complete the task ended in slippery failure, confirming for her smirking audience just how incompetent she was.

"Wow. Look at her face. Look at that concentration."

Vanessa turned her head to the side, not wanting to show her forehead furrow in thought. She studied the problem. The... the toilet flushing problem. She sucked in air through her nostrils and finally shimmied around the side. Back to the men, the negro woman put her face right alongside the cool toilet tank tank and raised her chin, lowering it, catching the handle with her hard, pointed jawline. She lowered her chin, pushing down.

The toilet gurgled, and flushed. "I knew you could do it, Sweetie." Brand's voice was behind her, close, and he patted Vanessa's head proudly. She flushed at the condescending gesture. Her nostrils flared and her chest rose and fell with her exertions.

"Do you want that brush out of your mouth?"

Yes! Vanessa nodded, flapping her head. She... pathetically, knowing it was his fault, knowing more was coming - she couldn't stop her eyes from tearing up gratefully when Brand, standing behind her still, undid the gag, and started to peel it off. She couldn't stop from feeling grateful when she finally felt the awful, handle release from her mouth. When she closed her aching jaw. Vanessa wobbled and turned on her kneepads towards the white man, before sitting back.

"Thank you, Daddy," Vanessa said from sitting, kneeling position, looking up.

"You're very welcome, Nessie." He smiled affectionately down at her. "Nigger Nessie."

Carter coughed and chortled at the unexpected moniker, coming from his less overtly racist buddy. Nigger Nessie almost crumbled. Instead she sniffled, and pouted, and felt Brand bop her nose cutely with his index finger.

The same finger pointed, drawing Vanessa's eyes, pointed at the toilet rim. "Is that clean?"

She had cleaned it with the brush. Swirled her face around it. "Y-yes, S- ah, Daddy."

"Huh," Brand peered doubtfully at the wet, white bowl.

"Lick it." Carter supplied.

The black businesswoman felt her face screw up. It... it really was probably clean, but, still, after all those threats of cleaning with her tongue, and trying to avoid it, and she still was supposed to... "Its got, ah, chemicals still on it. Cleaner." That much was probably true. "I - I could get sick," Vanessa looked up with big, wide brown eyes, and nodded at her own logic.

Carter did not look impressed. "I don't know what corners you're used to cutting, but around this house," Her house! Hers! Her house that she kept almost compulsively clean, without these, these - ! "... If it ain't clean enough for you to eat off of, you ain't done, lazy. That goes for everything."

"You have to be accountable, Vanessa. For yourself, too." Brand's half. More condescending patience. More being treated as a child. It was worse than Carter, in its way. Made her feel... feel melty. Weaker. Like a child. "Let's get you a nice, wet sponge. You can hold it in your teeth and dip it right in the water there - show us what a good cleaner you are."

Brand started opening drawers.

Carter looked down at Vanessa speculatively. He cocked his head. He stared at her, making the nude ebony woman shift uncomfortably on her knees, and stroked his chin.

"Why bother with the sponge? It's just one more thing she's gonna have to carry around."

"Mmm?"

"Her hair is like a natural sponge, all thick and curly like that." Her hair was like what? Carter laughed, "Or a scouring pad."

Brand stopped rummaging and put his hands on his knees, leaning down. Vanessa flinched. He raised one hand, and patted her head experimentally. Her fluffy, dense locks compressed, and sprang back. The big, handsome white man shook his head in amazement.

"You know what? I think you're right."

"That's really, very good," Brand nodded, so genuinely impressed that for a moment Vanessa was taken aback. He patted her fluffy head again "Good job, Vanessa!" He - he beamed at her! Like it - her hair, her nappy natural hair that she typically relaxed or disguised - was some special trait or talent. "Isn't she useful?"

"She will be when she dunks her head in and finishes cleaning. She's wasting time, staring and sniffling while the whole house is collecting dust." Carter pointed at the toilet bowl.

Vanessa shimmied, and looked down, and found herself staring into its depths a second time. It was cleaner. Cleaner than she was. She closed her eyes, and she slowly, not believing what she was doing... the distressed, unbalanced negress dunked her once carefully maintained hair into the cool water.

She let cool toilet water soak into her hair, over her hot scalp, before raising her head up, and...

Her hair hit the rim with a wet splat, and she swirled it. Mopped around the toilet rim with her natural, poofy curls.

Mopped it, so she could safely lick it. Vanessa shook excess water back into the bowl like a dog. A miserable bitch. She jerked her head, flipping her mop of tangled dark hair back out of her face. Only then did she see saw the camcorder staring back at her.

Vanessa flinched, and cowered for a moment. A useless, old instinct. The video library of her humiliating life, her stupid reactions and animal instincts grew every day. She shuffled, and looked up dully at the camera lens. She wondered if the men had put anything online, to be looked at, viewed by men and boys looking for... whatever she was. A nigger. Captured like that forever.

"That's a girl. I got some nice shots of you swirlin' your head, and we will get some good toilet brush shots later to make up for what we missed, don't worry."

The idea of seeing herself, being recorded, her hair flopping and her face plunging down, etched in humiliation and concentration...

"You're going to make a whole series, Miss Lockley." Brand hadn't addressed her by her last name in days. "You're going to do it thoroughly, and right, or you're going to redo each scene." He paused and let the warning sink in, before laying out the task.

Gray eyes pierced Vanessa."You're going to start each piece with: 'This is how a nigger cleans a - ', and then state what you're cleaning. Starting here, with this being the..."

Brand pointed at her. His finger was a gun, and he didn't finish the sentence. The bedraggled, ruined black woman looked up at the lens.

Silence hung in the air.

Brand twirled his finger, motioning onwards - and smiled, nodding her on when Vanessa opened her mouth to try and reason, or protest.

Reason, or protest. "...Toilet," Vanessa muttered, instead. Brand nodded again. Twirled his finger again. Carter was scowling, and tapped his foot impatiently. The whole thing.

"This is how a n-" Fuck them. Fuck her. Vanessa choked on her words a little. Fuck her right up her hairy, black... "- A nigger cleans the toilet."

She bent low. Her back and neck were already starting to ache from all the bending and balancing. She stuck out her pink tongue, and started lapping. All around. The ebony woman stole occasional glances at the camera as Carter smoothly got in close, but mostly she kept her eyes dutifully down, on her work, licking up excess water from the rim.

Proving it was clean, Brand had said. Except for the addition of her saliva. Not that cleanliness was the point. As if to prove that Carter went behind her. He spread her ass, spread her vagina while she bobbed and licked up front. The crude white man stuck a finger in her, smoothly entering her slick hole, and again, and... and then her back hole, her other hole, pressing into the recently-and-often used orifice humiliatingly easily, making Vanessa grunt and... kiss. Kiss the toilet rim, when he pushed a long, hard finger into her tight little button. At least the camera hadn't caught that, occupied as it was. Brand might have. He probably did. Vanessa refused to look, to see his knowing eyes look at her.

Carter brought the soiled digit up front, and Vanessa paused tongue cleaning long enough to suck and kiss that, too, long and deep for the camera, before returning her face down, smoothly resuming her final licks and laps.

Finally - aching, gasping, humiliated, the tortured negress was done with the first floor toilet.

The rest of the house remained.