Whap!

Whap!

Vanessa fell to the ground. This time she didn't try to stand again.

Brand stood over the cowering black woman, large as a mountain. The veins of his clenching hands stood out, pulsing with energy.

Vanessa clutched her injured, hot face with one hand, her injured breasts with the other. Her calves and feet curled underneath her.

"Brand! Brand please. No... please, I didn't - "

Brand stood still. He cocked his head. His angry eyes narrowed coldly and stared downwards. "What did you call me?"

Whap!

Vanessa's hand slapped the counter. She groaned in discomfort. He couldn't... She couldn't stretch any farther!

"Much more clean." Brand said approvingly, staring into Vanessa's butthole. Two fingers hooked inside her rim were... Vanessa groaned again. They were pulling her apart. "I think two enemas back to back, for your first time, was a good choice." He lightly blew a little cool air inside Vanessa's hot rectum.

She could feel it inside of her. Vanessa stared at her reflection in the mirror, while Brand stretched and examined her anus. It was building. No humiliation, no cool air blown in her was going to make it go away. Brand had pushed her beyond her limits. The stuff with her daughter... it wouldn't leave her head. It was beyond any humiliation she had thought possible. The dam would break.

Vanessa tried to push the thought away, quell the stabbing in her stomach telling her to fight him. She had to remain calm... Just for today, at least. She couldn't snap. She had to think.

Brand touched the insides of the ebony executive with a thick finger. He tenderly stroked her tunnel up and down.

Even angry as she was, Vanessa could feel her pussy twitch. Her rage flared anew. Her vision filled with red. She had to - breathe. Breathe, Vanessa. Breathe, bitch. Breathe, nigger.

Vanessa shuddered. Her hole squeezed again. But she breathed.

"Please, I'm sorry... Sir! Sir! Daddy, please don't!" Vanessa pleaded, kicking her heels, half supporting herself as Brand dragged her across the floor by her hair. "Daddy! Sir! Please! Daddy!" Vanessa babbled brainlessly, uselessly, while sliding and bouncing on her rear.

She tried her hardest to preserve her hair, half crabwalking when she could. Her burning eyes facing the direction she came from, Vanessa kicked and clawed behind Brand, all the way through the dining room, to where he wanted. To the living room.

Brand had come into the kitchen twice to 'check' her. To grope her. Put his hands all over her body. Invading her... her privates, if they could still be called that. Her moment away, each time, her brief seconds of almost-normality while cooking had made each invasion a shocking reminder of how low she was. How much her privacy and personal space simply didn't exist.

The staunch feminist was a domestic **** - cooking for a man she hated, and ready to be played with on a whim. To have her vagina, breasts, ass... and perhaps worst of all her mouth violated by her ****'s queerly passionate, strong touch at any moment. While she passively... sickeningly... she simply took it all. Kept cooking while her pussy was massaged... while she sucked his fingers off.

And felt that... that place, that increasingly disgusting, hateful, traitorous spot between her legs flower and moisten each time.

Yet, with all that, despite that... for those brief periods she had to herself, making dinner had been a respite. A task to conquer, mundane and yet time consuming. It was what she needed... until Brand came in again to **** her, to make her slick pussy his. Remind her of what she was, what she was doing and becoming. To make her rage uselessly again - that ball of hate grow again. Hate for him and, even more, herself.

Vanessa was on her knees. All the anger in her was gone. Just fear, and pain, and more fear. She had gone too far. After what Brand had done to her when he was happy with her... what would he do now?

Sixteen inches of silicone horse dick slapped into Brand's hand. A glimpse of what he would do, could do. "Sir... please." Vanessa's voice slurred a little as it worked its way through an extra fat lip on one side. "Please Daddy, I know I messed up. I messed up bad. Please... not that." Vanessa stared - her wide, horrified eyes now even wider, brimming with tears and terror.

"Open up," Brand's voice was pitiless.

The massive dildo slapped into his hand again. Vanessa swallowed. She tried to open her mouth. She did. But her jaw seized shut. She tried again. She got maybe a finger's breadth of her teeth open, but not a bit more.

She shook her head. She couldn't.

Whap! The heavy rubber horse dick slapped Vanessa's breasts full ****, sending them and her flying to the side. The colored woman's scream was blood curdling. She fell, and covered her breasts.

She needn't have been concerned about her breasts. With her useless screaming, she proved that she could open her mouth after all. Brand shoved the flared dildo head into her mouth, briefly making Vanessa feel as if her jaw would unhinge.

Vanessa hadn't used her serving plates much recently. By herself, it just meant more dishes. Guests only. And Brand... he wasn't exactly a guest. But he was, kind of. Whatever else he was. And Vanessa, some part of who she was, felt compelled to make her homecooked meal presentable. She could be, maybe was, a little proud of her meal. It certainly looked appetizing to her, in no small part because she was starving for food... something besides the sicking stuff that had been finding entry to her stomach since breakfast.

She used the serving plates, prepared to set the table. Vanessa hadn't seen Brand in a little bit. Hadn't been molested in more than 20 minutes. She could do this. The place settings went first. Then... was she really going to...? She did. She called Brand to the table. Dinner was ready. It was truly surreal, calling her blackmailer like he was her... boyfriend? Husband? It made Vanessa feel like she was floating away on a bad dream. What was she doing?

The scene got more surreal when she returned with the platter of food, finding Brand already sitting. He was looking at her calmly, studying her. It triggered a warning in Vanessa. She should have known then. No snide comments, no amusement. Just looking... while to his side, in a chair, sat Mister Fluffy. Vanessa stumbled at that. She should have known. The whole scene was like some kind of strange photograph... then she saw the photograph. Her daughter's picture, crudely taped to Mister Fluffy's hindquarters.

"We have guests for dinner." Brand's voice was still calm. Not amused. He saw it coming, Vanessa was later sure.

She flipped. Completely lost it. Everything she felt during the phone call, everything that had been building... it stopped building, and broke out of the wall Vanessa had erected around it. With a scream, the black woman went mad, and tossed the heavy, steaming platter of food right at Brand's face. It could have hurt him badly, burned him. It didn't. Brand was already moving too, ready. And while Vanessa was still recovering from her own outburst, her own storm of conflicted emotion, Brand closed the distance.

Vanessa faced him, fists clenching, seething. But she didn't... he was coming too fast. She needed a moment -

Brand backhanded her face, hard enough to send her spinning to the table. She looked into Mister Fluffy's glass eyes. In her dazed, confused state, Vanessa could swear they were accusing her of humping him, and worse...

She had been provoked. Brand had seen through her, and deliberately provoked her. And she had fallen for it, and fallen to his hand, and now... now she was just the idiot, again, looking at the stuffed dog she had cum on. She was so... so stupid. Brand grabbed her breast and painfully raised her up to face him. She had fucked up. She should have never harbored that anger, that pride that brought her to this place. Brand had seen it, and knew what to do about it.

He knew how to handle a woman like her. Vanessa knew that was true when he hit her again.

He was going to kill her. Vanessa screamed... she didn't scream. She gurgled. She gurgled around the giant horsecock that Brand was forcing deeper into her seizing throat. Jamming it down inside her. It actually passed a little way inside, **** a little into her throat.

That's when Vanessa knew that Brand would kill her.

That's when Vanessa pissed herself in terror.

Kneeling, facing upwards, bloodshot eyes bulging, the African-American woman urinated on her own carpet, wetness spreading. It was how she would go. A lifetime of struggling and achieving dignity, only to end like...

Brand paused.

When he paused Vanessa stopped struggling. Her nostrils flared. Her ears were filled with...

Together, the two waited out the horrible splashing sound as the carpet beneath her was soaked. Warm wetness spread under her knees.

"That's disgusting, Ms. Lockley," All traces of anger were gone from Brand's face. He looked down at her calmly, still holding the giant dildo that was poised to end her life.

Vanessa nodded in agreement.

"Do you want to see if you can deepthroat this?"

Vanessa shook her head. She shook and shook her head and her whole body. A little more urine splashed onto the wet carpet that was now soaking her knees.

"Then you'd better clean that up, don't you think?"

Vanessa nodded. Survival dictated that she nod. She knew what Brand meant, exactly what he meant. She nodded. Brand stopped the **** on her throat. Vanessa realized, dimly, that her collar might actually have saved her from a deeper ****, as the thick leather wouldn't stretch as easily as her tender throat. The flared head hit the back of her teeth, and Vanessa gratefully allowed Brand to **** her jaw open wider than she could make it go on her own... and angle the dildo so it could escape the tight embrace of her mouth.

She could breathe, really breathe again. Vanessa took great, heaving breaths. She looked up at Brand.

She wanted to test out her voice, see if... her throat felt completely raw. But she couldn't think of what to say, anything that... that wouldn't maybe hurt her more except...

"Th-thank you, sir," Vanessa mumbled. It was her old voice. Tears welled into her eyes. She hadn't been as damaged as she feared.

Not... not physically, Vanessa thought, almost ruefully. She... it was the endorphins, the survival she was sure, but she almost felt the desire to giggle. Hysterically, madly giggle. She was alive.

Brand's hand ended that when it rested gently on the back of Vanessa's head. He pushed her face down to the piss-soaked maroon carpet. The screen on his phone came to life, recording her. Of course it did.

Vanessa tried to think of the last time she vacuumed. She started sucking her urine out of the carpet, ignoring Brand's presence, and the video being taken. She still hadn't eaten anything since breakfast. Her stomach rumbled in protest as Vanessa accustomed herself to the taste of urine for the first time.

Her mouth made an audible slurp!ing sound... she sucked... and slurped...

Slurp... and again...

Slurp...