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Chapter 38 by Loeman Loeman

What's next?

Servitude

The 41 year old ebony career woman's brow furrowed in concentration. She pressed her lips together in effort.

She squeezed her anus, and readied herself for another long pull of her tail.

She lifted a shoulder, and wiggled her torso, and shifted a hip, all the while puffing and clenching... clenching her sphincter and her asscheeks mightily.

She tottered. She reset. She pulled as far as she could in one go. She kept her balance.

Success.

The heavy pewter tray behind her slid again, another small increment toward her goal. The fresh cold beers it carried clinked musically against one another, but didn't fall.

Vanessa couldn't rest. She was running out of time, and Carter would...

She readied herself another successful shift onward, tottering on the points of her elbows and knees. They were sheathed in sexy faux leather fetish gear, doubled up into four black, stumpy wings, and thoughtfully cushioned where the points supported her weight.

When she had started getting geared up, there was some talk that Vanessa might be more efficient about getting beers if her hands were free. Brand had concerns, though, that she might masturbate if she was allowed to go out of sight unsupervised and her hands could reach her crotch. After peering closely at her vagina, spreading it and touching it, commenting on how it was nearly drooling, Carter sagely agreed.

Moving and balancing bound in such an unnatural, humiliating fashion would have been hard enough on its own - physically and mentally. But Vanessa was tasked with using her butthole - her tail, rigged with a line, to tug along beverage after beverage for Brand and Carter. She clenched her ass again, feeling her increasingly irritated nipples drag on the ground, and shifted forward. She almost fell, and barely caught herself.

Being a little bit tipsy didn't help either.

"... Now I'm not sayin' all blacks are niggers. You know me - you know me, right, Brent?" Carter laughed, and momentarily sidetracked from waxing philosophically about the nature of niggerdom, "Changin' your name, your image, the way you speak- you don't fool me, Brent." The dishwater-blonde man from Brand's past clearly enjoyed using the different name, apparently his given name.

He went on, "Some of my, our, best friends were black growing up, and still is. Some of the best people I know." Both men had been drinking for hours, and were showing all of the effects, "But some of 'em are real niggers, the real thing. And I say, I still say, this one that you found here workin' in her fancy office with her fancy clothes and in her fancy house is the biggest fucking nigger I've ever run across in all my fuckin' life."

Carter's words thudded into the black woman's dull mind, taking root in her drunken exhaustion. She clenched her ass around its plug and forged onward, toward her goal of serving the white men in her house their beers.

"I mean look at her here," Vanessa glanced up at the crude home invader, but Carter wasn't gesturing to her, he was paying no attention to her humiliating journey at all. He was looking at the flat screen smart television, at the videos Brand had uploaded for their viewing pleasure. "Look at her humping that doggie toy, look at her cum," Vanessa had as good a view as the men did, from down on her elbows and knees. Carter had paused her face in its most humiliating expression, perhaps at her most humiliating moment - cross eyed, cheeks puffed, humping Mister Fluffy, exploding into orgasm while in the midst of a phone conversation with her daughter.

"Look at her, talkin' with her little girl, and tell me she's not the biggest, horniest fucking nigger bitch you've ever seen in your life."

Slightly pixilated on her big screen TV, it was the worst image that Vanessa had ever seen. It wasn't the image of her human self. It was something far, far less. It was, it really was -

"...And just look at that 'O' face," Carter clicked a few frames forward, and backward when Brand's hand started to intervene. On the screen, below her crossed eyes, Vanessa's dark cheeks slowly sucked in. Her mouth contracted into a perfect, wrinkled circle - a fleshy doughnut with a tiny dark opening, "You can practically see her swinging from a branch, hootin' and makin' monkey noises with a face like that. That girl," Carter turned his body and looked at Vanessa with something like disgust, even anger on his face, and, "... Is one dripping fucking jigaboo cunt."

The sneering white man punctuated his words with a wild gesture of the remote control that made Vanessa flinch and wilt. His short rant hung in the air for a moment, soaking into each of them.

"You may be right..." Brand's voice had the tone of a learned man reluctantly conceding a kind of reasoned point, having lost to an airtight argument. He turned, opposite Carter, but unlike his friend his gaze was amused and almost, condescendingly, slightly sympathetic to the bound colored woman. Both white men stared down and back at the struggling, waddling negress, their different expressions made worse together. Vanessa hung her head and buried her nose downwards as best as she could without winging out her elbows. If she went down, she didn't think she could muster the effort to tighten her shoulders again, go through the exhausting maneuvers required to right herself.

Brand patted his thigh.

"Come here, 'Nessa. Come on, lazy. We're waiting on those drinks, and then you can tell us what you think."

Fury and self-loathing, in equal parts, warred in Vanessa at Brand's little prompt. Although she was already stuck doing her ridiculous, degrading task... with their attention fully on her... it was really like she was being deliberately called to heel. It was no longer a private struggle to get to the men, it was her being called on - with their eyes judging any perceived 'laziness' in the woman who was still intensely prideful of her work ethic.

Vanessa set her jaw and felt her anal ring pull and tighten as she, head down, herself forward... and again. She hated that... that Brand, his command, was apparently working. She hated that, hated herself. She was gathering speed and momentum, going faster, thighs and shoulders and back burning with her awkward, stumpy gait. Her whole black ass clenched hard, fighting to keep her tail in as her butthole tugged again, and again and...

She was past the men. Finally, the tray was within easy reach of them, and there was a brief clatter as bottle caps hit the tray. Vanessa relaxed her ass and fought the urge to collapse. She had barely made it up on her stumps the first time.

"Wow, that really motivated her. Fastest one yet." Carter carefully maneuvered his shoe to Vanessa's hairy, swollen, wet snatch, and touched it with the sole. She gasped. She hadn't been allowed to touch her... it... with anything since starting and... she closed her eyes... pressed back... her hips rotated, her tail started to wag...

"Careful," Brand advised, "She's been pulling on her tail, getting herself all juiced up. She'll cum quickly humping like that."

Vanessa stopped shaking her ass, further mortified at Brand's words. And again at... how hard it...

"She loves to hump."

Carter pressed harder. Vanessa was... at least she was facing away from the men. She - could feel her jaw working, dangling, half open, jerking up and down in a physical attempt to release tension, in an effort to keep from wiggling and grinding against the...

"She can't be trusted not to cum on her own."

Carter wiggled his toe a little bit, shifting slightly side to side against Vanessa's inflamed labia.

She gasped. It was building. Where her thighs met. It was, she was finally going to... dammit. F-fuck... fucking consequences be damned. She was going to do it. It's what they wanted anyway. She was going to cum for them. They would humiliate her anyway, hurt her anyway. She... she might as well...

Vanessa consciously resolved to get her cum in, any way she could. She... she looked at herself. Saw herself. She was already at bottom, and it - she could kind of convince herself, it was the only rebellion she had.

A part of her knew that... slightly drunken, definitely deluded, she knew it was... she was just trying to get off. But it was true.

It could be a victory, against them. It, it was the only control she might have. The only control over her body she had. They were taking everything away from her. They couldn't, wouldn't take away the decision, the freedom to...

It was an intensely awkward movement, on her semi-immobile stumps. But Vanessa, to the best of her ability, she began vigorously wagging her tail. She tugged on the tray with her butthole, clenching tight. She began circling her ass, and bit her lip in anticipation, she just had to...

Her brow furrowed. She tried to find... where... where? Where was it?

For a long, long, humiliating, wagging moment Vanessa didn't realize that the precious stimulus of Carter's rubber shoe sole was gone. She humped and ground against empty air. Her tail wagged back and forth uselessly.

Carter had taken his foot away, just as Vanessa began awkwardly shaking her wide black ass for them.

The men laughed heartily. The sound of their beers clinking together in a toast to her lack of control barely registered behind her.

Her mind, singularly set on its goal, snapped to the completion of her orgasm, that had been snatched from her.

Vanessa screamed in frustration, and bounded forward in one final push to get away from the men, before collapsing into the ground and splaying out her stumpy, bound limbs. She collapsed with a heavy thud! on her torso, on her breasts. She began flexing her thighs and hips, gyrating, slapping her pelvis on the ground, trying to find as much surface area as she could on the carpet to touch her vulva. Maybe even her - her clit! If she could get her clit on the carpet, wing-drag forward, maybe... maybe even tug on her tail!

She could cum. They couldn't stop her. They wouldn't beat her on this. With titanic effort, the negro businesswoman hump-writhed her way forward. She closed her eyes, and curled her thick lips. She...

Felt air beneath her, and strong hands - one pair grabbed her shoulders, the other her hips... Again, she was denied. She couldn't... not without something to touch her clit, her...

Carter and Brand picked her nude body up off the ground. Her tail pulled for a moment, and then popped out of her ass. Vanessa's eyes rolled into her head. Another... another thing, almost sending her over the edge. But not quite. Her stumps flailed.

And then twitched.

And then just dangled. She was at waist height with the men. She didn't want to fall.

"Are you all done with that, Nigger?"

Brand's voice. Vanessa flinched. Carter... Rod... even that fucking jerkwad Timothy had all called her... that. That name. But not Brand. She, she had been something a little more than that to Brand, before. She hadn't seen it, through all the , but now she felt it. His voice was colder now, colder than it had ever been. She hadn't realized how warm it had always been before, even when he was hurting her. She hadn't been able to tell, until she heard the warmth all gone. Until she heard...

Nigger. Even Brand thought she was a nigger now.

What had she just looked like? Trying with all her being to cum, like it was... like it was all she had. Right in front of the men. Humping the carpet with her stumps, tail in her ass. Oh, god, what had she just done? What was wrong with her?

She... she was...

Vanessa sobbed, and nodded, head down. Her cunt was still twitching, but she was done humping. She felt sick. Sick about herself.

Brand must have given some signal above her, because she floated downwards, and was set gently on her elbows and knees.

"Look at the television," Brand ordered. She had seen it. She didn't want to see it again. Vanessa didn't want to lift her head. Brand firmly seized her chin, roughly brushed hair out of her eyes, and her neck up.

Vanessa saw her ridiculous, grotesque cum face. Her 'O' orgasm mouth and her stupid crossed eyes. One of them dark and puffy. "Look at yourself. What's that look like to you?"

Vanessa grimaced, and tried to look away.

"Looks like a nigger to me," Carter supplied, and slid a finger up her still distended, still partially lubricated butthole.

Brand glanced over at the other man, and then down at Vanessa.

Carter slid his finger in and out of Vanessa's soft anal tube. "Or maybe a monkey, or an ape. Them lips. A gorilla? Which one hoots like that?"

"... Take your pick, Vanessa. What do you think?"

She thought the rest were even worse. And just as fitting, for the face she was staring at.

".. ...... .." Vanessa whispered.

"So we can hear, slut," Brand's hand squeezed Vanessa's face. Hard.

"A... ni..." Vanessa said softly, "..igger," painfully, into Brand's palm.

"Hmmph," Brand let of the nigger girl's face. "We'll have to work on that. It's a start." Brand's gray eyes shifted behind Vanessa's head. "Do you think that she earned a treat?"

"I think I did," Carter's voice was followed by the sound of him unzipping his pants. Vanessa's mouth dropped. Even after...

He was going to - right here?

Brand unzipped his pants too. Vanessa whimpered, and shifted uneasily on her stumpy, bound limbs. He was hard.

She wasn't the only one who had been waiting, she realized. She swallowed.

She opened her mouth - even before she yelled a little when Carter seized her hip and slid something thick and warm and hard into her ass, and began slowly pumping her poor rectum.

"We both know that you're good on this end too, nigger," Brand said to her. Vanessa winced at the pain in her backside, and in her heart, and nodded.

She was defenseless. Immobile. With a cock up her ass.

"Yes, Sir." She mumbled, not believing she was being called on to - to take it. On both ends.

She stuck out her tongue, and took a deep breath. She would need -

Glomp!

A thick white cock stuck deep in her lips, cutting off Vanessa's next thought as she struggled to cope with its on her mouth and throat.

The room filled with the wet sounds of the defenseless black businesswoman being spitroasted, punctuated by her slurps and moans - and pained squeals, when Carter slapped her ass.

"My job... at TAC... is to swallow dick..."

... And then, by Carter's hand, also the sound of the short montage video. Scene after scene of Vanessa getting degraded and abused. The cruel blonde man set the remote into the cleft of Vanessa's back, her spine, while she rutted.

Vanessa understood after a moment of struggling to survive getting her face and bottom holes painfully fucked that Carter wasn't even looking at or paying attention to the live woman he was screwing - for the first time, up the ass. He was looking at the woman on the television, the porno of her recent life. Homemade, and starring her.

Vanessa's face mashed into Brand's stomach after a particularly hard push and, trapped between the two men, a cock deep, deep in her throat, she realized that she was going to have a very difficult time asking for permission for the orgasm that was building through her pain, threatening her each time Carter's balls brushed her inflamed pussy.

What's next?

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