Whore for Big Black
(MM/FF, inter, size, wife)

by Kysa Braswell
www.kysaonline.org

Well, today they were entering the big time for sure, Olivia sighed heavily as she entered Captain Booker's elegant suite. Today the first of the hostages would be taken and would arrive and talks would begin. The Captain would win the independence of his country or he would lose and they would all go up in the big bomb, or so Olivia thought. She was very, very frightened of the big bomb that was the way the white men won their nowadays, so she had heard. But she was far more frightened of Captain Booker and did not seriously question what he did... out loud. Oh, she bickered with him sometimes, making weak objections, because he was so sure that he liked his women to have minds of their own that she didn't dare keep completely quiet. However, she knew that if she stood up and said, "Captain Booker, you are doing a silly thing, trying to make a whole country out of The Whitelaw Estates," Captain Booker would have another woman immediately.

Olivia felt a deep sense of disappointment because Booker wasn't there to greet her the way he always used to be when he wanted her during those days when he was a common laborer in the white man's mines. She stood inside the door for a moment and then she heard him singing off-key in that beautiful bass voice of his in the shower. The edges of her beautiful full mouth turned up in a broad smile of delight, and the first zephyrs of anticipation were already blowing through her belly when she moved stealthily to the bed to turn back the rich counterpane. God, she had never known there were such things as "counterpanes" before.

"Aaaaahhhh," she moaned aloud as she noticed the feelings in her own stomach. "More and more I am just a bitch in heat!" Oh, she wanted her Booker. She wanted him now, right now, not after his shower and after he talked on the telephone and after he talked to the man in the study and after all those busy things he was constantly finding to do lately so that she just about went out of her mind. She was thirty-five and he was ten years older, but that was no excuse to become busier instead of sexier. With many men it was exactly the opposite way around, so she had heard. There was a vast loneliness aching down there between her legs. There really was a problem that she had to solve. It had occurred to her that she ought to play hard to get and act coy, and yet she also thought it might be wise to take a stronger initiative than she ever had. The time had come when she had to choose between these alternative courses of action. The time had come when she must either waylay him as he came out of the bathroom, his big black chest shiny and sexy with the water of his shower or she must avoid him and appear not to care.

She strode across to the large bay windows and gazed out the little panes of glass toward the river where dozens of little boats rode, tied to their stakes. They bobbed gently up and down on the rough waters, waiting patiently for the men to come and use them to catch their fish just as she waited patiently for Captain Booker!

Now her hands had begun to shake and her knees felt rubbery. Surely the moment for action or non-action had arrived or at least the moment of decision! Her dark eyes lit up. Well, there was just one way the decision could be made, wasn't there? In a moment she was almost frantically removing sandals, yanking down the fatigues she had to wear lately and taking off the shirt. She wanted to be naked before he finished his shower.

The beautiful black woman shook the shortened hair, to which she would never become accustomed, and stood in the center of the room, waiting for Booker. Her tits had darkened in a blush and her nipples had grown erect by themselves. She groaned as she ran a hand feverishly down over her pubic hair. Like a snake in the rapids, a current shot through her. She flaunted her pelvis a couple of times and whimpered deep in her throat. Yesssss, a bitch in heat, she thought to herself.

When Booker did not come, Olivia bit her lower lip indecisively and then tiptoed rapidly toward the bathroom. She opened the door, and the steam hit her with a warm moistness. Through the white fog she could see his dark, muscular body outlined in the glass door of the large shower stall. He was still humming and then again broke into louder song.

Suddenly her eyes flashed as mischievously as her heart beat, and she slowly reached out for the little gilt handle of the door. Quickly she opened it and stepped inside. There was no better setup to try one of her alternate plans, she thought. For here was Captain Booker, his kinky hair all lathered up with the sweet-smelling soap, his eyes closed and not the least bit aware that someone had stepped into the shower stall with him. It was so good to be with him, so exciting, she choked back a giggle as she watched him, watched the white soapy suds running down his ebony backbone to disappear into the crack between his strong black asscheeks. Slowly, with a prankish grin on her face, she reached out for his magnificent fourteen-inch cock.

Captain Booker's first awareness that someone was in the shower with him came with the soft touch of a hand sliding down his abdomen to fasten gently on his cock. It frightened the shit out of him! After all, he was a target now... for the government, for the envious, even for his friends very likely!

"What the hell!" he shouted, jumping in sudden alarm but grabbing the slender wrist at the same time. His eyes snapped open, but the soap blinded him again immediately. Yet he had seen that it was Olivia, and he was shocked. Before thinking that he should maintain his anger in his new position as Head of State, he yelped in surprise.

"Olivia?" he gasped, then choked as soapy water ran into his mouth, for Olivia had begun to slowly move her hand back and forth on his wet prick. A low groan of desire came squeaking out of his larynx, and her delighted, relieved laughter rang in his ears.

Emboldened, the curvaceous Olivia stepped up even closer to him and, still stroking his cock with her right hand, put her left arm around his thickening waist. She knew she was getting her hair soaked, but now that it had to be so very short and soldier-like, it hardly mattered. Under the machinations of her slender fingers, she could feel life surging into the Captain's prick. Oooohhh, it was a terribly sensual feeling as the soapy water caused her hand to slip almost without friction from head to base of the huge black rod. She felt lewd excitement expanding in her loins as the thing in her hand grew in size. Now it was elongated, sticking out in front of him as though it were the long, black rod of the old Chief's authority years ago.

"Quickly," she dared to pout. "Get the soap out of your hair and eyes," she said, beginning to feel impatient again and jerking his cock a couple of times in emphasis. He was enough aroused now to be clay in her fingers, she guessed.

Captain Booker, who had been standing them with his eyes closed once he knew who it was, let the sensations flow over his tired body. He had been up since dawn and had sent for Olivia to relax him so that he could take a nap and forget the tension of taking hostages. There was nothing she could have done for him better than to have taken her own initiative, something he had decided she had forgotten how to do lately. What miracle had happened?

He could feel the warm water flowing over his head, could feel Olivia's tits and nipples pressing against his chest, but the best thing of all was that excruciatingly wonderful movement of her hand stroking his hardening prick. Quickly he rinsed his hair and washed the soap from his blinded eyes. Then he looked at her. Even barefoot she was tall, but no woman was taller than he. He would not allow taller women in his country. Everybody understood that. Olivia's eyes were gazing unfathomably at him, almost as if they were daring him. Her moist lips, parted in amusement and possibly hunger, were only inches away. He had not seen much of her lately or of any woman. There was too much to do. Being the Head of his own country certainly made him a very important man but also so busy that he had little sleep, less sex, and no time to notice that his life was slipping away unattended. There were moments when he yearned again for a simple day fishing on the river or even for the mindless labor of the diamond mines.

He reached out, planted his sinewy hands on Olivia's flaring hips, and gruffly pulled her to him. The new position made it difficult for her pliant fingers to stroke his prick, so she contented herself with holding it tightly in her fist, clenching and unclenching her hand in time to the beat of his pulse down there. It was a maddening tempo, one that she found echoed in her own belly.

The Captain found his thoughts in comfortable disarray, but that did not stop him from shoving his tongue wetly into her open mouth. Her tongue met his and teased and cajoled it until he was pushing it in and out of her mouth as though it were a little red throbbing cock. They dueled this way for almost an eternity it seemed to the big black Captain, the water streaming pleasantly down both of their faces, but there were other things to do.

Yet he felt so powerless that Olivia was the first to break contact. When she pulled away her breath was coming in short, puppy dog pantings. She looked at her hand grasping his lust-engorged cock and then pushed down on the hardened rod so the head of the prick was touching the upper entrance to her cuntal slit. He moved forward just a tiny bit, and she felt the head slide against her dampened pubic hair and soap-lubricated clitoris. She groaned as a shower of heated sparks shot through the region of her nakedly exposed sensitive genitals.

"I see you came quickly," Captain Booker said, French-kissing her again. He had forgotten all about scolding her for surprising him the way she had as he felt the wild elation growing in him, waking him up for the big relaxation he so badly needed, as Olivia began sliding the hair covered softness of her cunt along the top of his cock. She was tall enough that he could take her this way without undue strain on his leg muscles, which after the hours of battle training he had put in this morning were in no condition to bear the weight of a fly!

She was obviously ready for him, he thought. He could put it into her delicious cunt right now if he wanted. Her eyes were closed as her breath rasped out hoarsely. She did something with her pelvis and inner thighs which caused the cuntal lips to look like a hot fleshy vise over the cock. She held it that way as she began moving back and forth again. He repressed a sigh that might have betrayed his weak sleepiness. It was almost as if he were deep inside of her now, whatever she was doing there!

Amazed, the Captain began running his big hands up and down her soapy asscheeks. He slipped his middle finger down into the soft, yielding crack and nudged her ass. She jumped and her eyes fluttered open as the sensation of his finger against her ass startled her.

Actually it had shot a nefarious jolt of pleasure through her. Never before had she realized she was sexually sensitive there. She had always shied away in the old days, and he had gotten in the habit of obeying her wishes. But now his wishes were law. He was doing other things, too, with those capable hands of his. They were all over her, kneading her tits as though they were bread dough, tweaking the nipples, stroking her abdomen in time to her own body movements. She was afire down there. She wanted him inside her. She said it, and the obscene words spilling out of her instead of him caused a certain amazement to register in her mind,

"Fuck me, Captain Booker," she crooned. "Please fuck me like you would a common street whore!"

The blood had long since been pounding hotly through the distended veins in his rigidly swollen cock. His balls throbbed intensely. He wanted her now, and yet he wanted to enjoy this mindless moment to its fullest. He thought he would sleep afterwards, but he wasn't really sure.

So he pulled his prick from between her tightly clenched thighs.

"What's wrong?" she whimpered, a little frightened.

"Nothing is wrong," he told her. "I am in no hurry, that is all!"

True to her recovered aggressiveness, she fought her fear of him, reached for his cock and enclosed it in her fist again.

"I want you now," she pouted. She began yanking on his huge, inflated cock in short impatient motions.

Surprisingly, Captain Booker said nothing more. He reached behind himself and got the soap from the soap tray. He loved the scented white man's soap that was almost an aphrodisiac in itself, and he used the palms of both hands to raise a lather.

Olivia didn't protest when he began to lather up her black tits. She watched the white bubbly river run down across the dark bed of her navel and disappear down into her drenched pubic hair. The Captain was now lathering up her abdomen and hips. His hands were gentle, not angry, and the electrifying sensations arched through her belly. Then he was using two fingers and the palm of his hand to soap up her cunt. She closed her eyes and moaned. Her legs became so weak that she felt they couldn't support her any longer. Then Booker actually kneeled in front of her and used both hands to bring a white lather to her black thighs and legs. He ran his big hands up and down her lower extremities as though he were stroking some great cock. She screwed her pelvis toward him, wanting to feel his strong rubbery lips against her clitoris, but he avoided that and began working his way up her backside.

A part of the big man's mind stood off watching himself. It was so good to do something so simple and innocent again, and it was obvious that Olivia was just about to go out of her mind with lust. He knew that he had neglected her dreadfully and would feel apologetic if he were not now the Head of State! But as long as it had been for them, he knew the symptoms. Olivia was very close to an orgasm.

Quickly then, he lathered up his black cock and used his soapy hands on her abdomen. His fingertips brushed across the wet, curling strands of the soft nest of fleece between her legs. He didn't pause there. His hand slid down ever further, middle finger extended, until he parted the soft wet strands of pubic hair, touched and began caressing her cuntal slit.

The beautiful black woman's tall body almost jackknifed with the maddening contact of his finger sliding through the already fevered area. She began to moan in wild, inarticulate phrases, and her inner thighs tried to trap that hand, that beautiful, familiar hand, and keep it captive. Now a second finger was making a lovely intrusion. The middle finger toyed with the clitoris. Both fingers moved in unison.

Oooohhh, she had to have it now! She was close! She wanted to feel the power of that wonderful man inside her. She had missed him so very much! She could no longer be patient. "Pleeeeaaassse!" she begged, sounding like a night creature of the jungle as it fell prey to the mighty cat.

Booker, watching her and listening to her, reveled in the feel of her hot pussy once more and the vibrating arousal of her goddess-like body. God, he thought, she will make a most beautiful queen if I cannot find one I like who is younger. How badly she wants my blood-pinkened cock, he thought, looking down at the rod in question. It was indeed a blushing pink on the tip and getting darker. She's so fired up for me that she's about to explode like a bundle of dynamite in a mine!

"Olivia," he commanded. "Put it in for me!"

Olivia needed no second command. Frantically, she reached down for his soap-slickened prick and pulled it up between her legs. She spread her thighs and pointed the stubbornly rock-hard cock, like a stick of dynamite, toward the hole of her voracious cunt. She snaked her other arm around his hefty waist and pulled him forward, guiding the magnificent hardened instrument toward her eagerly awaiting cuntal lips.

Her dark cuntal hole opened and closed like a hungry bird being fed by its mother as she pushed forward with her pelvis. His swollen prick sliced through the voracious lips, down and up, and fucked deep into the soft pulsating flesh of her belly.

"Uuuuggg!! Oooohhhaaaa!" she chanted, moving her lithe body back and forth, feeling his cum-bloated scrotum swinging and teasing against her thighs. She reached down for his testicles and caressed the gigantic balls as she wildly flaunted her pelvis, sliding her hungry cunt up and down on the throbbing rod of hardened lusty male flesh sunk with a hard feeling of permanence so deep up inside of her. It all happened unbelievably fast.

"Aaaahhh! Oooohhh! Ah! Aieeeee! I'm... I'm cummmiiinnnggg!" she screamed. And then she was really in a frenzy with her pelvis slamming so hard against the Captain's powerful hip bones that it seemed certain something was about to break.

Booker's eyes had widened in complete surprise. It was the first time he had ever known her to reach an orgasm within thirty seconds of the time the cock was first fucked in. He hadn't made one single thrust on his own part. Olivia had done all the work. What had come over her? Now she swallowed with her mouth hung loosely open, and the sound of air panting in and out of her throat made almost an obscene noise of unmistakably satisfied lust.

Trembling uncontrollably, Olivia stood there as the orgasm drained away her strength. She was forced to lean against the Head of State. There was nothing left in her body. She was sure she had lost consciousness at the height of the climax for she had slumped, and the movement had caused his hard rigidly bloated cock to slip out of her cunt with a wet, plopping sound that could be heard even above the hiss of the shower water and the deep gasps of her breathing. Oh God, it had been so long!

The beautiful black woman felt an almost uncontrollable desire to go to sleep. She knew though that she must not, that Captain Booker was more important and needed his sleep far more than she. She knew how hard he worked and had heard that he arose at dawn to work out with the men himself. They all knew that at forty-five, he was as fit as they, or almost so. Of course, he could not join them in everything they did because there was so much planning and paperwork he had to do. Everyone understood.

Olivia closed her eyes. She had reached a powerful orgasm, though, and had to savor it for a moment. Once she had seen a native boy blown into the air by the wires that connect the white men's houses with the fenced in metal houses by the river. "High Voltage" it said to those who could read English. She felt now as though she had touched those wires and was soaring back down to earth, perhaps to the rough waters of the river. She had been aroused for some days now, and release, when it came, had been as sudden as a tropical storm.

In no time, Booker's great hands were on her shoulders, turning her around so the soap would wash off. She was as obedient as a small sleepy child. Then there came the velvet-like softness of a cloth gently rubbing between her legs as it rinsed the soapsuds from her still slightly pulsating cunt. She winced when the cloth, as soft as it was, accidentally brushed against her clitoris. The organ was overly sensitive now. Any touch there was painful for the moment, even that of the Head of State, she thought wearily. On the edge of her mind she was aware of how much like his old self he seemed, the old Booker, before he was concerned with countries and titles and the white man's way of life! Then the hissing hot water was turned off.

God, now he was actually toweling her dry, treating her as if she were the infant they would have had if he had not become so engrossed in making a country. But the roughness of the towel began bringing a new life to her body. It felt, she realized, very sensual. It was warm, comfortable and readying her to satisfy him, she understood, for he still had his mammoth erection. She stood on tiptoe to help when he rubbed the towel between the cheeks of her shiny black ass. She wondered how he wanted to reach his orgasm.

Finally the big man, wadded up the towel and threw it into the corner of the shower. Silently, he picked up Olivia as though to show her he still could and carried her out of the shower and out of the neatly tiled bathroom and to the great bed where the counterpane was all turned down. He was much too worn out to carry her as effortlessly as he once did, but it still made her feel some of the childish exuberance and joy of the old relationship when at least some of their time was carefree. She put her cheek against his strong black chest, closed her eyes, and gave herself to the sensation of his erect cock rubbing across her ass with each step he took.

As carefully as he could, he put her in the center of the bed and stood looking down at her. He could not help remembering how he used to drop her on a grass mat on the dirt floor, but all of that was behind them now, behind her as well as himself. For even though he might have to marry a younger woman, he would never abandon Olivia. It would be impossible to do that. She still had her eyes closed, and her lovely full dark tits rose and fell like the surge of quicksand up river with each breath. It was incredible, he thought, that he had been able to take the Whitelaw Estates, with which to start his country, for all he had to do was make this beginning and the followers came. Now he could love Olivia on the kind of bed she deserved!

On the bed, Olivia's brown eyes blinked open. She felt a great wave of tenderness well up within her as she gazed at the revolutionary. It was something she felt for no other man and never had. Those broad shoulders, she thought, that still strong, handsome face, those muscles that he kept firm and powerful, and that... that beautiful prick that she hadn't seen in so long! How she wanted it!

They had always made love with each other in a more or less traditional fashion, but today she herself wanting to kiss his marvelous cock, pay homage to it instead of to him! How strange, she mused. Never before had she desired the taste of his prick, and she could not imagine why she was having this sudden urge, but it brought her the new problem of whether she should act on it or not. Would it please him? She had heard that men liked such things very much. Still lying on her back, she bent her knees and used the balls of her slender feet and her shoulders to scoot over so that the prick was directly above her pouting mouth. It hung above her somewhat frighteningly, like the sword of doom. She was amazed at how bold she had suddenly become, and her words sounded as though they belonged to some other woman, not her.

Pulling her lips in a semi-smile off of her strong white teeth, she hissed, "Captain, I want to kiss your prick!"

The rumbling laugh of the Head of State thundered out. Well, his little Olivia was full of surprises today. It was as though she knew something different was going to happen. He hoped the omen was good! "I would love to have you kiss my cock," he told her.

Olivia suddenly giggled. There were times like this when the new formality that existed between them seemed terribly funny even though she couldn't forget that at times it was frightening. He claimed equality with all his men in his new country, but everyone knew he was the one with the power, including himself. She stopped chuckling when the big black sword of doom dipped toward her lips. He was still her Booker, though. She reached up and caressed the hard cock, feeling every powerful ridge beneath the taut skin. Her brown eyes feasted hungrily upon it. She was beginning to understand many things as she grew older, the most startling of which was that men were not as simple as she had always thought. As she touched his lust-bloated cock with tenderness, she recalled how once she had supposed every man felt his cock to be the seed and cause of life itself. A woman who governed a man's cock, governed everything... she once thought. Olivia could feel her own eyes burn and become hazy from the fires that were being kindled within her by the huge black throbbing god's head above her, already oozing love from the eye of the glans.

How strange to find herself licking her lips in anticipation, but she was! She cupped the bloated sac of sperm as though she were bringing flowers to the altar of the gods. Her lips kissed the underside of the moist head, and Booker quivered like a powerful wild stallion at bay. Then her pink tongue lashed wetly out, making maddening circles around the entire head of the lust-swollen cock. Her own body reacted. It trembled with a suppressed power. Sighing with pleasure, she opened her mouth wide and accepted the hard cock. She began to suck on it, gentle little milking motions that came from an instinctive knowledge older than time itself. She thrilled to the residual taste of the sweet soap, of his love secretions, and of the taste of her own cunt. Feeling as though at last she were somehow completing a circle of life itself, she took his rocky cock deep within the soft, wet folds of her velvet cheeks.

Captain Booker's black hands dropped to Olivia's short hair and pulled her even closer to him. He almost had time to recall how her hair had been long and flowing in the old days, but she began running her tongue along the underside of his cock, and the sensations were causing great thunderheads to build up in his belly.

"Suck it," he panted, "Olivia, suck it!" He lifted his right leg from the floor and, without pulling away from her, placed his knee on the pillow alongside her head. A second later he was straddling her tits and kneeling above her face. He began jerking his loins forward at her beauty in the motion of fucking.

Olivia cupped his asscheeks in the palms of her hands. Ah yes, she liked him in this position. It gave her a masochistic pleasure to know that she was almost incapable of moving her head in any direction now except up and down on that vibrant wonderful prick. She slavered up and down, instinct telling her to use her tongue and teeth against the head.

The Head of the Whitelaw Estates slowly moved his pelvis back and forth so that her lips, like the voracious lips of a hot, hairless cunt, slid along the trunk. Praise to the spirits of life, he thought in wonderment, nothing had ever felt this good before although it was not the first time it had ever been done to him. He could tell that she was obviously inexperienced in this type of thing as she had better be, but the heat of her mouth and the way she used her long tongue was absolutely fantastic.

Yes, he had been having his blow jobs from women. After all, he was now a Head of State, and he knew women who were masters of the technique. He cared not at all where they had learned the art or what man had taught them. Olivia was different. He wanted her with no other man. At least he felt that way so far.

Captain Booker knew that he was going to cum soon. Already his boiling cauldron of semen was beginning to seek avenues of escape. He put both hands on his hips and straightened his shoulders so he could look straight down at her as he sawed in and out of her mouth just as though he were fucking her hot, clasping aunt Her firm lips were tightly stretched around the blood-infused, veined shaft which fucked into her. It was so tight around the lust-bloated cock that the flesh of her inner mouth was pulled out like the hot opening of a volcanic crater each time he made a withdrawal.

The ecstatic Olivia, lost in a frenzy of delight, was only vaguely aware of his muttering, "You better stop, or I'm going to cum!" She merely sucked harder. What was happening to her? She wanted to taste his sperm. She wanted the boiling eruption in her mouth. Yet... what would her beloved Booker think of her? Reluctantly, she unfastened her lips from around his desire-throbbing cock. When she looked up at him, the big man seemed at least ten feet tall, staring down at her as though his head were up there among the fine white moldings of the fancy ceiling. He was breathing rapidly, and she could see his stomach muscles quivering as he fought for control. She swallowed and forced herself to ask him.

"Do you want to... want to cum in my mouth?" she whispered.

Now the Head of State had no qualms about asking whatever he wished, but he had to fight a battle within himself. He wanted very much to cum in that beautiful mouth. Put at the same time, he wanted to fuck her, perhaps because it was their old habit and he had not been with her for so long. Maybe he could sleep after this, and when he woke up, there would be a little time for other things before the hostages were brought. Right now, though, there was one thing he wanted more than any other.

"I prefer to fuck you," he said firmly. "I want to fuck you between the legs!"

"Aaahhh, darling," Olivia murmured, forgetting his position and her fears in a surge of the old feeling they used to share. Then she was amazed that the term of endearment had slipped out from her lips. Oh well, she also abruptly realized there was an unfulfilled feeling down in her pulsating cunt. The feeling rapidly swept away all other desire. She wanted him inside her. She wanted him to be a part of her, of her to be part of him. She wanted them joined like before, in tucking.

"Oooohhh, do it now! Booker! Fuck me now!" she repeated and opened her legs wide to receive him.

Putting his big hands down between her knees, Booker pushed them back until they were against the pillow. Her tight defenseless pussy was revealed beneath him, the outer lips a darker than normal color from her intense excitement, the inner lips pumping out a viscous lubricant, and the large red clitoris engorged with blood so that even the dark color of the skin could not hide its redness. The Captain put the swollen head of his throbbing prick against the hot moistened lips of her cunt. He pushed forward, and the blood-filled head parted the still wet curls of black pubic hair and slipped easily down through the two sets of sensitive cuntal lips.

"Oooooohhhh," she crooned, and her eyelids flickered in rapture.

"Do you like that?" he asked, not really needing any assurance but wanting to hear her admit it.

"Oh, yes, Booker," she cried exultantly. "It is so beautiful!"

The big man pushed in a bit further. He knew he had to take this in easy stages because of the new position that was one which would permit him to go at least two inches deeper in her, but too rapid an entry would result in pain or injury. So when he had gotten about three inches inside her, he began slow withdrawal movements coupled with tiny, controlled jerkings of his prick. He felt a responding twitch from her defensively clasping cuntal walls.

"Uuuuuhhhh," she panted, and tried to rock back and forth on the granite rod hanging down between her legs. The love-starved woman could feel his scrotum tingling against her nakedly exposed, uplifted ass, and she reached down and around to fondle his balls with fevered joyousness. Booker had begun fucking in and out and she was sure she had taken all he had, not realizing that he was less than five inches into her. She could feel the head of his lusty cock pressing against the cervix, apparently trying to gnaw its way into her womb. The iron-rigid shaft rubbed the inside of her hungry cunt like an animal rubs its furry back hard against the ground to scratch a persistent itch.

"Ooooohhhh," the beautiful Olivia wailed, for now he was diving even deeper. "You... you're hurrrtttiiingggg," she began, but then she felt his pubic hair tickling against the backs of her thighs and knew that he was in as far as he could go. Joyously she realized she had taken all of him. She had wondered if she could any more, but they were still a perfect fit! Now his movements became really masterful. She could feel him in complete command of the situation, and so she lay there, grinding her full rounded asscheeks around in tiny teasing circles as he fucked in and out of her body like a pounding hammer.

Olivia's mind screamed out an insane delight as she felt her entire belly afire. Nothing she had ever known had ever been so wonderful, so wild, so free. She knew she would never leave him no matter how many countries he wanted to make, and she was almost sure that he would never leave her! She was really being fucked at long last, and she was responding even more hotly, more tempestuously than ever before, full of fire for the man she loved. It was a tribute to the Captain's fucking ability that she forgot all about the way of life she was tolerating for his sake, the hostages that by now had been taken, and even the fact that he might never get around to her again!

Surprised, Captain Booker was aware that she was approaching yet another explosive orgasm. Her body was fighting excitingly down there. He remembered his days in the fishing boats on the river, before he went into the mines. God, it was a long time ago. But he recalled the mighty game fish he had hooked, a fish no one could believe had gotten into the river, and she felt like that fish as he attempted to dislodge the hook. Olivia's pelvis jerked and revolved madly, but there wasn't much she could do because of the position. It was then that Booker, like he would have done years ago, decided to hold back his own climax and see just how much he could do for her.

Clamping down on his sphincter muscles, he began fucking into her with demonic furry, screwing his cock even harder and deeper into her cunt until it seemed her battered cervix would be dislodged. Her hot hole, however, screamed for more, and the interior muscles of her cunt clasped his hard shaft like the oral muscles of a starving cobra will struggle with the girth of the largest egg. Her ass clenched and unclenched as it seemed to seek to bite and capture his balls as they slapped down in a ceaseless drumbeat of lust against her upturned asscheeks.

The beautiful Olivia tossed her short hair from side to side, her mouth open laxly and her eyes focused in disbelief at her own knees rocking above her head. "Ooohhh! Aaaaahhhh," she moaned with each shove of his fucking cock into her cunt. It was a chant, an old, old liturgy of love, a song whose tempo had echoed in the jungle since man began! She groveled beneath him, and her new long fingernails, no longer accustomed to grinding meal and cleaning fish, dug long bloody furrows down his back as suddenly, she punched her pelvis up with almost superhuman strength and her legs splayed out until it seemed as if she were splitting herself right down the middle.

A scream of delight bubbled out of her mouth, "I'm cumming! Aaaaaiiiieeee! I'm cuuuummmmiiiinnnngggg!" Then she fell lifeless against the soft mattress.

Captain Booker slowed his pace to the point where he merely bobbed in and out of her like the soft surgings of the tide. He knew he could bring her on again by continuing this gentle movement, and so he bided his time. He didn't know why he had this powerful urge to please her so completely, but he started a slow movement, a soft fucking in, a gentle, partial withdrawal, slow in, pull out, slow in, pull out... He remembered the time they had made love in the boat. It was like that now. The mattress seemed to rock.

Then Olivia's mind began returning to her rocking body from somewhere way out beyond the furthermost star in the heavens. The blast that had arced her excitingly through the sky was letting her float to earth. Now there was only the voluptuous, almost hypnotic fucking in and out of her cunt, and Olivia, too, remembered the day on the boat!

Captain Booker was aware of the returning sensations in her rocking body. Knowing she would soon be cramped by her present position, he released her captive legs and pulled them down alongside his hips. She almost immediately lifted her knees and wrapped her legs around his thighs. Her knees pressed in tightly against and partially around his asscheeks.

The sound she was groaning was not one of pain but of guttural wonderment, but it bubbled from her throat as from a fountain. Olivia couldn't believe what was happening to her. Surely she would awaken! She had reached some beautifully high, wind-swept plateau, a land of pure sensation. She was cumming again! She reached up for her beloved Booker's head and pulled his careworn face down to her. She passionately kissed him, grinding her tongue wetly into his mouth, and then she whispered, "Booker, I'm... cumming again!"

This time around her climax was even more different than before. It was as powerful and strong, but it was more controlled. She found herself the mistress of it, bringing it along, playing it, and making it peak like the last note on the: suppliant pipes of the old priests in her village. Yet seconds later she learned that she was not the mistress at all, that Booker's hot living lusty cock was the master of those pipes, that it was he who had replaced the old priests!

"Oooohhhh! Aaaaahhhhh! It's so wonnnnddderrrrfull!" she sang, feeling unwanted tears welling up in her eyes. No, she must not cry. He was still Head of State, regardless of what he used to be to her... and was today, for some reason. She wrapped her arms and legs tightly around him, however, and pulled his brawny chest down into the soft voluptuousness of her tits. She discovered that pulling him down against her caused his rocky-hard prick to ride higher against her clitoris, and a wild wantonness was upon her again as quickly as the spirits of the night used to descent upon and inhabit the aging bodies of certain women in her tribe.

"I... I'mmm cuuuummmiiinnnggg! Again!" she whimpered almost shocked. Her body thrashed madly against his. Ah, what new powers her Booker had acquired, and to think that he was giving them to her!

Booker knew that in spite of all his control he was nearing the end of his efforts, but he was feeling more relieved anyway. It was not physical relief he had needed. That was a minor thing and easily taken care of. He had felt the guilt of neglecting her, and now the guilt was easing, and he became more aware of how his own balls had begun to throb painfully and how suppressed excitement had swollen his blood- engorged prick until his urethral hole was large enough to take a bullet!

"I'm cummmmiiinnnggg!" she screamed for the second time in less than thirty seconds, and her lush black body jerked and twisted on the white sheets as though she were in throes of a huge, uncontrollable night spirit, who needed to gut her out like it sometimes gutted out a tree in order to live there! Olivia's beautiful face was contorted in lust, and her mouth opened and closed ceaselessly as her nostrils flared darkly like an untamed wildly bucking horse from the veldt.

Ah, it's time, the wearing Captain Booker thought, and he fucked his long black cock up and up, deeper and deeper into the warm dark slippery hole beneath him. He let the sensations flow up the hard shaft where they spread out through the scrotum and overflowed into his belly.

Olivia's forehead, face, and shoulders glistened with the sheen of sweat. Her black tits felt as if they were balloons being pumped full of hot scented air, and her cunt and uterus felt as if they were being stuffed with electric eels, all throwing off their charges at once. They were wiggling up deeper, ever deeper into the dark depths of her tumultuous river. She knew instinctively that each preceding orgasm had been like a higher step on the baobab tree, that she had reached the top branch hanging over the rough river, and that now there was She dive to be made into the warm waters of oblivion. There was nothing that could stop her from making the dive, and she knew her Booker was suddenly fucking her like a madman as he sought to join her dive.

"Oooohhh, cum with me, Booker, cum!" she pleaded. "Cum with meeeee! Inside of meeee!" She wanted him to make the dive with her. She was giving herself completely to him even more than she ever had before. Why did she give him this gift that she often thought he didn't even want? She could have given herself to any man in the village, one who would have given her children! "Pleeeeeaaasssseee cummmmm, Booker!"

And the Captain, hearing the words, felt the dam gates slowly opening within him. He slithered his strong, sinewy hands under the wildly pumping cheeks of her shiny black ass and cupped them tightly, pulling them toward him for greater access to her open and pleadingly thirsty cunt. He fucked into her-with all his strength, wanting to give her everything he had, at least for now. He could feel the smooth, hot flesh of her tight, almost unusual massaging and sucking away at his expanding, explosive cock. He fucked into her, ramming every last inch of his huge black authoritative cudgel into the willing hole that sucked at him down between her legs. A cry startled him. At first it sounded like the low moan of the sea wind in a cave he had visited once on a high bluff overlooking the ocean.

The sound grew in intensity until it was the shriek of a typhoon leveling the land in the season of the rains. And then it was the cry of the hawk swooping down in the brown mist of morning to quickly capture its unwary breakfast before the succulent meal could scamper into the safety of its hole.

"Aaaaaaiiiiieeeee! I'm cuuuummmmiiiinnnngggg!" Olivia screamed, her smoky brown eyes staring unseeing at things beyond both of them. Her ass waved in wild abandonment from side to side on the silky white sheets, screwing her electrified cunt up and down crazily on her old lover's black fucking rod.

It was Olivia's final climax, her wildly thrashing body that triggered the Captain's own climax. He could feel the velvet explosion beginning somewhere around the spine. It spread rapidly to his balls. Booker increased the intensity of his strokes so that his big black scrotum swung like a great baboon against the trembling walls of her asscheeks as though they were unimportant, immaterial clouds. But then he was there. The new intensity of his orgasm frightened him for a moment, but he let everything go. Her arms had him in a death-like grip, but he was still able to gasp into her open mouth,

"I'm cuuuummmmiiiinnnngggg!"

Her words were almost incomprehensible when she chanted just the way the old women did around the fire, "Cum in me... cum in me!" It sounded just like their chanting invitation to the sun spirits to invade and warm their cold, old bones! Booker heard the whimpering moan from her and felt her knees flexing and unflexing powerfully back against his driving ass as she sought to assist him. With a low moan of his own ecstasy, he exploded inside her, and the white hot explosion of his love erupted like the dynamite in the mine deep down inside the pulsating depths of her devouring womb.

For several minutes his cock continued to spurt and throb until gradually it stilled. Deep inside her, he could feel her muscles loosening, the uterine walls deflating, the cervix returning to normal position, and the cuntal lips twitching like the lips of a slowly dying fish from the big river. The thought of going fishing again began to haunt him. What if he could never go fishing again? Life was so short. Maybe it would be even shorter, but he must not think those things!

He opened his eyes and looked down at Olivia. She appeared to be all of twenty-five again, ten years younger than he knew she was. A soft, wondering smile was etched on her lips. He had made it all up to her. He could see that. She looked happy and fulfilled. He smiled gently as he watched the even rise and fall of her beautiful dark tits with their soft ebony nipples at repose. She was asleep, so soundly asleep that she didn't even stir when he slowly withdrew his deflated prick. She was sleeping as he needed to but doubted that he would again as his cock came out of her with a soft hissing sound. Then with the stopper removed, a torrent of white, expended sperm began to trickle and then flow like the river out of her open cunt!

Captain Booker pulled the counterpane over her perspiration streaked body. Then nude, he walked toward the bay window that overlooked the narrow dirt road weaving among the hills of his "country" and picked up his binoculars. There was little need for them in this case because any vehicle raised the dust and could be seen for miles. There was not a puff anywhere, so what should he look at? Nevertheless, he anxiously scanned the land because what else could he do? He knew he couldn't sleep!

The Head of State did not sleep in his bedroom, to be sure. His mind still dazed with weariness, he carefully chose some clean underwear from his drawer and clean fatigued from his closet and slowly dressed. One thing he might do, he thought to himself as he pulled on his socks, was ride around the estates again. It never hurt to keep constant check on how the gardens were being managed. What he usually did at such inspections was hop out of his jeep and help the men for a while so they-would know that he had time for them as well as for everything else. Still, the very thought of exerting himself, of even driving, was more than he could bear. Staring at the heavy boots he ought to put on next, he decided to carry them to his office. Should anyone ask, he would explain that he had calluses on his feet because he had marched twice as far as usual that day.

Yes, he agreed with himself, that is exactly what he would say if anyone dared ask! In fact, he would send someone for the boots because he didn't even want to carry them. He would look as though he had forgotten them because he was in such a hurry over something important and then send his secretary for them. In accordance with his plan, Captain Booker strode out of his bedroom in his stocking feet, down the plushly carpeted hallway to the stairs, and down then in a rush as though what was on his mind was too important to be diverted by either questions or shoes.

Opening the door of the office, he saw that the secretary was not there and then remembered that he had sent him as driver for the jeep that was to bring the hostages back. Well, he was glad he had decided to take an ambassador and his wife. He would need no shoes for them. They were not the brightest sort. Their titles and their lack of brains made them ideal prisoners for this sort of thing! So he fussed to himself as he repeated the movements he had made in the bedroom above, peering out the bay window, picking up a pair of binoculars and scanning the countryside with those. There was nothing. He reached under his shirt to scratch just in front of his arm. His body was damp with sweat. He should have taken another shower, he thought drowsily, but he went to the door, flicked the air conditioner to "on," and sat down at the desk with a map of the countryside, countryside that would someday be part of his "country" if all went as he planned. Suddenly he was asleep.

The clock at his elbow ticked on silently as time progressed through the afternoon toward five o'clock. The big man, collapsed over his desk, his head placed squarely on the marked area of the Whitelaw Estates, slept on. He never knew a thing all afternoon until Olivia was tugging at his sleeve.

"They're here, Booker!" she was whispering hoarsely. She had seen the cloud of dust roll up from the horizon. She had used the Captain's binoculars to identify the jeep that was to bring the hostages in with the secretary at the wheel. Quickly she had run downstairs, suspecting that he might be asleep when she heard no orders barked out, no shouting or running or other turmoil.

"Wake up, Captain Booker," she cried, more careful to use his title as he came to.

Instantly he knew what the excitement was about, and he could tell from the unperturbed, if not elated, expression on her rested-looking face that so far, all had gone well. The hostages had been taken and were probably on their way in the front door. He snapped to attention, smoothed his shirt, and leaned over his map.

"Thank you, Olivia," he muttered and then took another look at her. She had grabbed a negligee to run down over the stairs. His eyes opened wide. Her dark skin glistened in voluptuous curves from head to toe under the frothy pink gown that hid absolutely nothing! "Are you crazy?" he hissed. "This is a revolution! This is the office of the Head of State for the country of Whitelaw! Get dressed!"

Olivia stifled the temptation to tell him that if she had gotten dressed before coming to him, he would have been asleep when they arrived. "Every head of state has mistresses, Captain Booker. It is to be expected." Nevertheless, Olivia had no desire to be caught like this before the hostages or the men, either. She had simply meant to be quick about it, and now she turned on her heel and raced back out and up the stairs. Booker's eyes, obviously staring at the map under the knit bush of his heavy brows, followed her frothy figure as far as it could be seen. He groaned to feel the stirring between his legs and commanded himself to pay attention to the business at hand. Heads of state with mistresses, he muttered to himself, do not keep their countries very long!

He had no time to consider whether that was true or not, however. He had heard the jeep pull up, and then, in spite of his wish to appear busy and unconcerned, he bounced out of his seat for a brief glance out the window. The ambassador's wife was just being taken from the jeep by Bou, the driver, who was also Booker's personal secretary. It was obvious that Bou didn't know the difference between a captor and a captive, Booker thought to himself with a disgusted smile. The Captain had no intention of mistreating these people unnecessarily, but Bou was behaving like a footman to the woman. He was reaching in, helping her down, making very sure she didn't... Then the big Captain got a good look!

Captain Booker closed his eyes against the assault on his senses. Damn! He couldn't believe it! Where was the dowdy woman in the frumpy English clothes? This tiny little but oh-so-well-built blonde could not possibly be an ambassador s wife... or could she. It was well known that Ambassador Tyler had just married. Booker had considered it a bit of luck that a new man was coming with a new wife. It was just the thing that would win people's sympathy to the pair and assure the success of Booker's demands, he had figured. But for some reason, he had assumed that it was a second or third marriage. Well, maybe it was... for the ambassador. The big man's brown eyes quickly appraised the generous tits, if they weren't padded, and the neat and shapely stockinged legs. She was a pert little dish, he admitted to himself with a second jolt in his hardening cock. Hopefully, the ambassador, who was on the other side of the jeep, in the custody of two of his more burly men, was old enough, Booker thought, that his little bride would be interested in something on the side!

Now he went back to his desk and sat down. When Bou came in, he found the Captain so engrossed in his work that he didn't even know they were there.

"We got them, Captain," he announced with youthful fervor. Bou was only twenty-two and had a lot to learn.

The Head of State looked up quickly. "Oh? Good! Send in the bag," he ordered the boy, who studied him quizzically, afraid to make a mistake with orders he didn't understand but just as afraid to ask what those orders meant. Booker saw his confusion. It was exactly what he hoped to produce. "A bag is an old woman," he explained to Bou.

"Well, she isn't exactly... Yes, sir. You want the ambassador's wife, sir!"

Booker grinned at him in mock appreciation of his intelligence. He nodded. The boy disappeared.

When Bou returned with the girl, Booker ordered him out, not to return until he was called, and the Head of State turned his full attention to the prisoner, staring up and down and around at the tiny but abundant figure, appraising her deliberately while being amused to see her knees shake. He let his brown eyes rest on each of her salient points.

"I'm very sorry to frighten you. We don't really mean you any harm," he tried to explain, to calm her down. "Here, sit on the couch and I'll get you a drink," he offered.

"Where... where's Doug," she whispered hoarsely.

"Doug... Douglas Tyler," Booker rattled on while he poured two scotches over two glasses of ice cubes that were always ready in his little cooler. "Douglas Tyler... excuse me, Ambassador Tyler is of no value to us unless he is alive and well, I assure you. If in the course of being here, you misplace him from time to time, don't worry. We'll take very good care of him." He handed her one of the glasses and noticed that her hand trembled uncontrollably as she took it. Yet she did take it. She probably didn't know just what she was doing at this point.

"I bet you will!" she rasped boldly.

Booker sat down beside her on the couch where he had placed her. He didn't want her to think they would care for him for nothing! "Cooperative hostages are always well cared for. It's those that don't do as they're asked who get into trouble."

"Who are you and what do you want?" she found the strength to ask.

Booker paid no attention to her question. She was quite a prize! She was tiny, in her early twenties, and her hair was the silkiest, softest looking blonde he had ever seen. She had large blue eyes, emphasized, he noticed with black pencil marks around the rims, but his attention returned to her hair. It fell below her shoulders and was just curly enough to defy man; sing. She certainly did not look like an ambassadors wife. Surely she was the kind who would prefer more excitement in her life than endless tea parties and reception lines and hypocritical smiles! He wanted to run his fingers through that hair, but it took him a moment to realize that since she was a prisoner, he had every right! And so he did, briefly. She pulled away.

He stared at her with his sternest look. "What is your first name?" he demanded.

At first she didn't look as though she was going to answer, but she swallowed hard and said finally, "Emma."

"Emma Tyler, you are a prisoner of war! Cooperative prisoners live ... and," he added as an afterthought, "so do their husbands!"

The young girl blanched even whiter than she was. Her skin was like alabaster. Booker could not resist reaching out for her hand to place it in his big black one. The difference in size, the contrast in color, seemed to fascinate her as well as him.

"Do you understand me?" he asked.

Emma said nothing, but tears skirted the rims of her blue eyes and reddened them. Without thinking of what she was doing, she dipped her head and then raised the glass of scotch, finishing it nervously .

"Weeeellll," the big man stared and then got up, taking her emptied glass. "I'm glad you like my scotch, anyway," he said while pouring her another, a double shot this time. As he handed it to her, he again eyed her voluptuously full tits that pushed out of her suit that was in disarray. "You do like it, don't you?" he asked, his eyebrow raised almost menacingly.

She took the glass that he had filled while talking to her and tentatively sipped again as though she had not previously tasted it. She couldn't remember what it had tasted like. She couldn't even concentrate on it now. It was like liquid sawdust that burned a path down her Bullet The only thing on her mind was Doug and their predicament and trying to figure out. how she should act and what she should say to help herself and her husband out of this!

"Oh, yes," she said automatically. "It's just fine, thank you!"

Booker almost burst out laughing. "It's just fine, thank you," he mimicked. "It's just fine, thank you, Mr. President. It's just fine, thank you, Your Highness. It's just fine, thank you... fine, thank you ... fine, thank you..." he went on, bobbing his head to the rhythm of the words. With a big grin that showed all his pearly white teeth he looked up at her. "Before you married your ambassador, Emma, did you stop to think that you're going to get mighty tired of saying that?" He kept chuckling and shaking his head. "How old are you?"

Emma could not decide whether she was afraid of this big black man or not. He was much more human than she had expected. She thought kidnappers were rough and cruel and evil-looking.

"Twenty-three," she told him, sipping on the drink now. It was relaxing her beautifully, she had to admit. She didn't know much about drinking. She had not been allowed to drink until she was twenty-one, and coming from a strict family, she had never done much of it even then. Douglas, the son of an ambassador and now an ambassador himself, knew much more about it. His father had started him as a child.

"Twenty-three!" he marveled in a loud voice, "and dedicated already to a life of 'fine, thank yous.' Tch, tch," he said, shaking his head mournfully. "Well, at twenty-three, how much do you know about kidnappers?" he asked with a serious expression. He wanted to throw a charge of fear into her, just a little tremor, enough to make her more cooperative. He had taken her hand successfully once. He took it again. An electric spark pulsed from her hand right down to the pit of his stomach. She was loosening up, too, he sensed. Now she had the presence of mind to be confused by his touch. He saw the confusion and as she started to withdraw her little white hand, he took it more firmly and held her fast by it.

"Emma, I enjoy having you touch me," he told her, pulling her close until their knees were touching and all the while staring at her with no smile, only the vague hint of a threat. He saw her toss her hair and take another healthy swallow of scotch. Her big blue eyes stared, frightened, back at him.

Booker let his drink spill on his carpet as he reached for her fragile- looking shoulders, drawing her full, delicately pink lips up to his own. Crushing his mouth down on the soft resilient flesh, he savored her taste, adulterated as it was by his scotch. He must get her to the point before she left where he could have her without the scotch. He had never kissed a white woman, one worth tasting, anyway. He thrust his tongue up to her frozen teeth.

"Kiss me, Emma. Kiss me hard!" he ordered sternly.

Surprisingly, the young wife did kiss him hard, opening her little mouth to receive his demanding wet tongue, giving herself up to his lips crushing warm and hard over hers in a mind-swirling embrace. It had to have been the effect of the scotch. And yet this treatment was so different from what she had expected that there might have been some mindless gratitude mixed in. Was this possibly the way to save herself and her husband? she wondered. And was there anything to be saved from? This big black man was so... so nice! Maybe it was all some kind of dream she would wake up from soon.

"What a dream you are... a wonderful dream," he whispered, nuzzling her neck and her cheeks, tasting a faint hint of the perfume that she had applied behind her ears, perhaps just before they had been taken from the train. He blew gently into her little china ears until the goosebumps prickled over her arms, visible near her wrists. Slowly, gently, he undid the buttons of her suit and her blouse and insinuated his wandering black fingers into the soft folds of material.

"Aaaarrrggghhh," she groaned as his hands found the already desire- stiffened nipples of her lush young tits. The fullness of her curvaceous little body surprised him, and he was excited beyond his previous expectations as he rapidly explored her soft pliant tits with their white creamy mounds and rosy tips and then moved his big exploring hand down over her small waist and full-blown hips.

"Aaaaahhhh," she whispered mindlessly and repeatedly into his moistly suctioning mouth which clung to hers as if to keep her prisoner as he awakened in her young body the desire to remain his prisoner, but she would not give in. She kept telling herself that she would not give in ... not really. The sighs and moans she couldn't seem to help. The alcohol had fogged her brain somewhat, but not so much that she had to lose control of her desires.

But the experienced Captain, feeling her desire growing, pushed her back supine on the fancy silk couch cushions, raising above her as he unbuckled his belt. With a swift, practiced movement, he pushed his neatly pressed fatigues and undershorts to below his knees. As he did, his lust-heated black cock sprang up like a demon out of the earth or a serpent out of the river, hard and full, and frightening to the poor astounded ambassador's new wife!

"Oh, no," she gasped, aghast at the massive black nakedness of her captor's huge cock. Suddenly, through the haze of alcohol, she realized that this whole experience was for real, that it was actually happening, that she had been kidnapped and was now being raped. She put her hands up in self-protection, and he could see that she was just getting ready to scream her head off.

"Your husband would be very angry if you endangered his life for a little modesty," the big man smiled as kindly as he could white still getting his point across. "If you want to push me into being cruel, you can do that!"

"Oh, no!" the girl answered to that, too. God, it was terrifying to be alone in a room with a man who had taken her prisoner and was now hovering half-nakedly exposed over her on a couch, his big black cock hanging out and threatening her like a billy-club. Yet, it could be much more terrifying than this, she knew. She wasn't quite ready for such treatment, but how does one get ready to be kidnapped? But she wasn't ready for a big thick cock like this, either... a huge, blood- stiffened cock that she was sure he wanted to stuff in between her trembling, slightly tingling thighs, even though... even though... she felt a trace of hunger! How unbelievable! She was just married to Douglas! How could she possibly feel any hunger for another man, never mind a kidnapper! It had to be the effect of the scotch! Oh, how she wished she had not drunk it! Yet, what else could she have done? Surely her behavior was entirely understandable! And this man fascinated her. It would be very wise of her, very valuable to her country, to get to know him...

Yet it was all happening too fast for her no matter what she thought. She tried to get up, but Captain Booker anticipated her and lunged down on top of her, kissing her passionately on her tender, open mouth. And then, rationalizing incoherently to herself, Emma collapsed under his sensuously arousing kisses and gave in completely as he crooned into her golden fleecy hair,

"Oh, Emma, baby, you're so gooooodddd!"

She could feel his lust-swollen cock stirring impatiently against her still covered belly, and his big insistent fingers were rapidly undressing her. Of what was she prisoner, she wondered groggily, still looking for excuses for her growing desires. She could not believe she wanted this man in any way! It was the strangest phenomenon! She had felt stirrings for men before she was married, and she always wanted Doug when he wanted her, but what excuse was there to want this big black kidnapper to touch her? Especially in those places! Was she a prisoner of alcohol? Of a wanton personality? Or was her body simply a prisoner of her own unconscious wisdom? This man had the power to hurt her, to hurt Doug, to kill... kill both of them!

While the Head of State kissed her deeply and urgently, his hands tugged expertly at her blouse and with it off at last, opened the snaps of her dainty little brassiere. Then moving around again to her front, he sank his fingers into the warm swelling white mounds of her tender tits, kneading the rosy tips between his fingers and sensing maddening strikes of electricity surging from her naked tits down to her aching loins. On Mt. Kilimanjaro was snow no whiter than these!

The shocked young prisoner, so sadly deficient in her knowledge of the flesh, wanted to scream with a rapture of which she was deeply ashamed! Her hotly seeping cunt was pulsing with desire and she lifted up her ass in an unconscious invitation for him to slip off her pantyhose and the little lace panties that Douglas had given her as his first gift as her husband. She had accepted the panties so modestly and blushingly from her husband and was accepting the advances of this stranger without fighting him off! But she couldn't fight him, she rationalized. He would surely harm Doug!

As he removed the last vestiges of her clothing, she thought of the door and the possibility that someone might bring Douglas in. God, it would kill him, she thought, thinking how she would feel if she was marched in while some woman was taking advantage of him!

"The... the door!" she managed to blurt out between the big man's urgent kisses.

"Don't worry," he assured her. "No one walks in on the Head of State!" And his hands encompassed the firm white mounds of her snowy tits, taunting the rosy tips with- his thumb and forefinger, taking the softly throbbing nipples and rolling them with slow deliberation.

"Ooooohhhhhh," the young blond moaned, feeling herself melting under the good-looking captor's intimate manipulations. She saw how pale she was in his black hands and a strange thrill spun like a run-away top inexplicably up her spine. How naughty she felt and shivered! The triangle of gold, fleecy, curling pubic hair between her open legs was moist already and longing for the massive black cock which dug throbbingly into the soft white flesh of her young stomach. There was a growing fire in her loins which needed to be assuaged, and she reached for the man's blood-swollen prick in order to guide it to her hungering cuntal hole just as she would instinctively guide her swollen nipple into the mouth of a crying, hungry babe!

As her long white fingers circled the massive rod of hardened flesh, the Head of State pressed hard into her heaving tits with his large, full lips. "Oooohhh, Emma," he cried. He pulled the distended pink nipples in between his sharply nibbling teeth and with his wet tongue lathered her pliant flesh until she groaned into his kinky black hair that had just begun to silver over the ears.

"Oh, yeeeeesssssssssss," she whimpered uncontrollably now.

Emma Tyler worked the heavy black lust-swollen prick of her kidnapper ever closer to her waiting cunt, savoring the hardness of his entire muscular body as it tensed above her and feeling her own desire growing by leaps and bounds. Her sandy-haired husband had faded out of her consciousness completely by now. There was only this big black lover and the fast rising heat of her fragile white body. She wanted to be touched lower now, wanted the hard, veined lust of his cock fucking deep in her cunt! Oh, God, how she wanted it! Never had she wanted any other man's so urgently!

As if he could read her frenzied mind, Captain Booker responded by lowering his hand to her hotly quivering pussy between her nakedly twitching thighs. It was like an earthen oven, hot as the fire pit over which they turned the boars. It was alive and sucking and ready to devour him, as small as she was! He wormed his outstretched middle finger forward and up to meet her hotly writhing pussy as she pressed the big dark bulbous head of his surging, lust-bloated cock to greater erection in her fingers. He fucked in expertly at her tightly clenched cuntal hole, his lips murmuring wetly against her unbelievably gorgeous tits.

"Ohhhh, Emma, keep it up! Keep gooooooiiinnnggggg, babe!"

The wickedly exciting sensations strengthened in the young wife's hair- fringed aunt, a seeping hotness spreading anew from her womb down between her automatically opening thighs. She cried out with lewd delight as his advancing middle finger reached all the way up into the cushiony warmth of her wanting cunt, spreading the moist, defenselessly weakening sheath wide. With a rhythm designed to drive her crazy, he fucked his finger deep up into her, fucking, tickling, increasing the pressure until he felt the nectarine droplets of her arousal spill out over his lewdly exploring, strong black fingers. He had to taste it, this white woman's juice!

Raising himself from her stomach but still manipulating her hotly steaming young pussy-flesh, he pulled back until the beautiful young prisoner was forced to release her hold on his turgidly engorged cock.

"In just a minute," he whispered thickly, kneeling between her widely splayed legs, "I want to eat you a little first!"

But his choice of words, his obvious intentions, were like cold water on the fire! As he lowered his swollen lips to the damp mass of blond pubic curls, holding her gleaming white thighs apart with his black fingers so that the entire expanse of her gaping young pussy flesh gleamed up at him, she jerked herself up and tried to push his big head away. She forgot all about who he was and where she was.

"No! No, not that! You can't do that!" she cried vehemently in horror.

The big man was caught off guard and reeled back off balance, almost falling. He was so caught so unexpectedly, that he forgot to threaten her into silence and obedience.

"I just want to taste..." he started...

"No!" the girl screamed hysterically. "No one does that disgusting thing to me, not even Doug!"

She grabbed her brassiere from the floor and fastened it deftly in front under her beautiful white tits then flipped it around, filling the cups and stretching the straps over her shapely white shoulders. Captain Booker was so mesmerized by the whiteness of her skin that his reactions were slow.

"Where do you think you're going?" he asked, standing up and towering over her, his massive fourteen-inch black cock still fully extended, lowering out from under his thick kinky black pubic hair like a spear.

"I... I don't know!" she screamed at him, hiding her own confusion and the fear that was beginning to return. Oh, God, what had she done? Yet there was something about the man that made him... well, not that fearsome, it seemed to her now.

Booker stared at her in amazement. Why didn't he rape her on the spot? Who the hell was she to tell him where to get off? Yet, although his blood was boiling, it was not in anger and not wholly in lust, either. He didn't want this woman this way. He may not have tasted that seething cunt of hers but he had tasted an aggressiveness that had been completely unexpected. It was his guess that this little white woman had a great deal more to offer than he could get by force. No, she had to be wooed. It was a challenge to him that he could not resist! Unfortunately, that approach took time that they probably didn't have. He stood apart, contemplating the problem while she finished dressing. Perhaps there was some way to hasten the courtship. For one thing, no one yet knew who had the ambassador and his wife. No message had been sent, no demands made. That could be held up a little while. In fact, he knew a way that it might be held up for a longer while!

Emma Tyler, disheveled and uncertain on her feet, stumbled her way across the elegant foyer in the harsh grasp of one of Captain Booker's men. There were deep red marks where his strong fingers had gripped her fragile white arm, and Douglas jumped to his feet when he saw her. He had been unable to figure out why the head of this operation had wanted to talk so long to Emma, but he had never for a moment doubted her safety. Emma's things had been left with him so he did not think she had been moved to another room. He had just been considering the fact that they may have decided to feed her separately so they could talk to Douglas over a private dinner, when she was shoved into the room.

"What in the world happened?" the young man asked rushing to his young bride, who collapsed gratefully into his arms. He saw the red prints on her arm and for a moment thought she had been abused in some way.

"What did you do to her?" he shouted at the black soldier who was just closing the door behind himself. He only grinned and shut the door.

"I'm... I'm all right, Doug," the little blond tried to pull out of his arms now. "I'd like to sit down, but nothing happened," she said with a touch of pride in her voice.

"What did they want with you?" her husband asked her while still holding her as they walked toward a small love seat in the inside corner of the room.

There was something about the way her new husband emphasized the "you" that hurt the young bride's feelings a little, but she swallowed her pride. After all, an ambassador's wife was not as important as an ambassador, as far as being a hostage was concerned, a hostage of any value, that is.

"Well, I suppose it is you they really want, dear," she told him while swallowing, "but I do have certain attributes." Automatically she reached for the buttons of her suit to see if they were all buttoned, and Douglas understood from this gesture that sexual advances had been made to his young, innocent wife.

His face reddened in anger. "I'll kill them, the pigs!" he spat and leaped up from the seat.

She pulled him down. "Now how are you going to accomplish that by yourself, silly?" she cooed at him to calm him. She smiled brightly and ran her lovely hand through her hair. "I'm sure I look terrible, Doug, but it wasn't that bad, really! He tried. He failed. He gave up," she reassured her twenty eight year old husband. "Perhaps he just wanted to find out if I was the type who came across, honey," she suggested.

"You aren't!" he said reassured and sitting down beside her again. "But you do smell awfully of scotch!"

"Yes, he gave it to me and I was too frightened to refuse."

"You did the right thing," the young ambassador drew her toward him again. He wanted to comfort her, yet Douglas Tyler could not help wondering if she really had done the right thing. She had accepted the scotch and refused the sex. Without knowing the man involved... and Doug had not yet met Captain Booker... it was hard to say what she should have done. Whatever she had done, it was done, and they would have to suffer the consequences. When Douglas had his opportunity to meet the head of the operation here, he would be in a better position to advise his little wife what to do in the future. Meanwhile, he was looking over the room, a study, very carefully, in case the knowledge of it and what was in it would ever be helpful. He could see from where he sat that guards had been posted outside the window. He had been told that there were two guards outside the door at all times...

He was just noticing the spot on the Persian carpet that told him a large desk had been removed from the room, leaving absolutely nothing to hide behind effectively, when his attention was drawn back to the door by the scuffling of boots and then the turning of the knob.

Two black soldiers came in, informally for soldiers. "The Captain wants to meet you now, Mr. Ambassador," one of the men said with a flourish and in a tone of slight mockery.

"I... I don't care to leave my wife behind," he said, lying as convincingly as possible. "She doesn't feel too good!" He was studying the soldiers. There was in insouciance about them that he didn't trust.

One of them grinned broadly. "Oh, don't worry about her none. The Captain says if any of us try to fool around, he'll do us in personally!"

Remembering Captain Booker with kindlier feelings than she knew he deserved, Emma could not help feeling grateful to him for extending his formidable protection over her with these other men. Obviously they would have their fun with her if it were not for the Captain! She did not yet know why she and Doug had been taken captive like this. She knew that in a general way it had to do with the move for independence among the blacks, but the specific incidents were so numerous, there was no way of keeping track of all of them. Besides, new ones were popping up all the time. The name of the Captain rang no familiar bell in her mind.

A third black soldier entered now. "Which bags are yours, Mrs. Tyler?" the young man asked just as Douglas was being led from the room.

The ambassador turned sharply, or tried to. "Why?" he asked heatedly, but a soldier on each side of him all but lifted him out the door.

After he was gone, Emma asked the question herself.

"You can't sleep here," the young man pointed out, gesturing over the study. "There's plenty of beds upstairs, and the Captain says to make you comfortable."

"Can't... can't all the bags go in the same room? We're married, you know," she explained needlessly. "The Ambassador and I..."

The boy grinned. "You take that up with Captain Booker, Ma'am. "He just said to take your bags up to a room he wants you to have, and show you to the bath. That's what I'm going to do."

Emma was silent. The way to pull through a situation like this, the young woman was convinced, was to keep calm and to co-operate as much as was humanly possible. She was worried about Douglas. She would prefer to have him by her as much as possible, but there was no point in arguing over a room with a boy who was only obeying orders. On the way, after they had been taken from the train at the water stop, Douglas had told her to remind herself when she worried that hostages were valuable alive and worthless when dead. She told herself that now, but just the thought of death, of Douglas dead, brought a tear to her eye. It will never happen to you, Douglas, she said silently in her mind as she showed the young soldier which bags were hers. They were small bags. She could have carried them herself. The trunk went on with the train! But he picked them up, as she noticed that another soldier was waiting just outside the door.

She was given the most beautiful room she had ever slept in in her life. The soldier had opened a door to show her the bath and had left, explaining that there were numerous guards posted everywhere around the big house. There were, in fact, hundreds of people living and working on the big estate. He smiled mischievously as he warned her.

"It wouldn't be too hard for them to know who you were if you decided to try to run away!"

Yes, she understood that! But there was something else she was beginning to understand about all this, too. She sensed a lack of hostility here, at least of personal hostility. To someone who had been brought up thinking of kidnappers as "the bad guys" with all the meanness and cruelty that "bad" signified, this was surprising. "Bad guys" could not be people you could feel comfortable with, and yet she felt very comfortable indeed! But did that mean she was safe? She just couldn't figure it out! Her long run safety probably depended upon negotiations with her government that were beyond either her or Douglas's control. How safe she was as an object of play or... or even torture from this group of men seemed to depend upon Captain Booker! Well, if that were the case... she had already handled Captain Booker once, hadn't she?

Yes, she would take a bath. It was exactly what she needed. Still a little high and light-headed from the scotch, Emma undressed quickly, dropping her suit and blouse all down over her shapely hips and stepping out of the fallen clothing without even bothering to pick it up. How fortunate that she had a few things kept out of the trunk for riding with. She moved toward a tall mirror that stood on an ornate stand by the dressing table and watched herself peel down her sheer panty hose and then the panties that Doug had given her. Her gleaming white thighs looked warm and soft in the filtered afternoon light, and she twisted to see the swelling mounds of her asscheeks as she unsnapped and lifted her brassiere over her high-set young tits, flinging it down. Nonchalantly, believing fully in her privacy, she slipped into the ornate bathroom.

As far as she could see there were no bruises on her. She felt dirty from the long hot jeep ride and the sweat of her arousal downstairs, her unsatisfied arousal, but the red marks of her arm had begun to fade. A good bath was exactly what she needed to relax and to put herself into shape for whatever lay ahead. So far everything had happened so very fast that she hadn't really had time to think. Even the long ride from the train had been useless time because of the terror of being kidnapped. But now it looked as though she was being given time. It was not that she was unafraid. There was still a tiny knot of fear in the bottom of her stomach. But she was not as frozen with her fear as she had been in the jeep.

Her encounter with Captain Booker bothered her, not with fear of any consequences, but with guilt. He was the enemy! She was supposed to hate him! But she didn't. Incredibly enough, she actually liked him. He attracted her personably and... and... yes, sexually! Oh, God, that attraction had to go! This was why she prayed that she and Douglas would be allowed to sleep together. She hoped it was not against protocol to have sex with your husband when you were a hostage, because if there was one thing she needed very badly right now it was... sex, yes... but also to forget the exciting Captain Booker!

There was a shower, but Emma, finding herself getting more and more nerved up as she recalled the big black soldier downstairs, let the water run full force into the tub. Then before it had even started to fill, she tentatively tested the temperature of the water and stepped in. As she lowered herself gently into the old elegant tub with the gilt fixtures, the water, usually too hot for her, felt as soothing as the hot sun on a beach. She adjusted the taps a little, making the spray even more forceful than before and sank down so that her full ripe tits looked like swollen, succulent melons in the rising water. Very soon her childishly slender waist had disappeared completely and slowly, dreamily, Emma let herself relax into the heat and depth of the filling tub. She hadn't had a tub bath for a month now, not since the first night of their honeymoon, she remembered.

She smiled to herself to think of how she had used the bath as a stall, and how Doug, five years older and more experienced than she, had come to her there and very gently, with infinite understanding, had pulled her out from under the gushing water spout and taught her the first steps of love between a man and a woman.

Just as she had done that night, she let her long blond hair slip into the water, billowing out behind her head like an angel's halo. She let her hips slip unimpeded under the roaring gush of water. Spreading her thighs like a wanton butterfly, she exposed her soft, sunlight-fringed cunt to the full force of the raging stream that poured out of the tap. The sudden sensual contact of the spray on her sensitive clitoris jarred her unsuspecting yet wildly anticipating body and she jerked in wild spasming contractions as the last of water lacerated her sensitively bared genitals.

"Aaaaaaahhhhhhhhh," she whimpered, her hands flying immediately to the rescue, spreading her fingers over her moistly tingling cunt. To touch herself seemed to soothe the burn. "Aaaaahhhhh, that's better," she said aloud as she warded off the full force of the liquid onslaught and with her two index fingers separated the lips of her cuntal hole to allow the stream of water to titillate into her coraline mouth. It felt so good, just like it had that night with Doug. She had felt secure in her privacy, never dreaming that he would sneak in. He had told her afterwards that he had realized it was the only way to have her before morning. She would have stayed in the bath until she looked like a white prune. She probably would have!

She had the same pressure, but this time much stronger, mounting unbearably in between her slender legs right now. It was driving her mad as she squirmed around in the filling tub trying to relieve the sensual agony. She had had no idea what that pressure was the night of her honeymoon! She only knew that the water made her feel terrific down there, and she had slipped in under the crazy pellets of sparkling liquid and let it trickle over her virgin thighs. Gradually as she had become accustomed to the foreign sensation, she had let her legs open wide. Then suddenly her husband had entered the bathroom and pulled her gently out.

She had been terribly mortified, not only by her nakedness in front of him for the first time but because of the obscene position of her body! She had looked up at him terrified, yet his face registered only concern.

"Emma, honey!" he had cried. "Are you all right? How did you fall like that!"

Fall? She then realized that he thought she had fallen in and was struggling to keep from drowning!

"I'm okay now, thank you," she stuttered, self-consciously trying to keep her body hidden somehow.

But the new husband pulled her slippery, voluptuous, virgin body into his arms and, reaching for a large towel, wrapped his trembling wife inside of it and then rubbed her dry with both hands. She had tried to joke, feeling the need to escape from the inevitable.

"Just what I needed," she smiled uneasily. "A new skin!"

"Pink instead of white," he said. "Hope you don't mind." He had continued to rub her down even though she was not only dry but over heated from the friction. He couldn't seem to stop racing his hands all over her body, even over places he had never dared touched before. Then his hands began to slow, to become more gentle, to merely caress her through the soft terry-cloth of the big towel.

She had looked up at him, fear starkly in her eyes, yet very aware that though her hair was wet and stringy and she was certainly not at her best, she was exerting a kind of magical control over her new husband, the kind of control that always seemed to make a man do anything you wished! It was the sort of thing she had done with Captain Booker downstairs, she guessed, although all that had happened too fast to analyze.

Anyway, she had been unable to help relishing what she was obviously doing to her new husband that night. She licked her wet lips with a tongue moist with her saliva and watched Douglas's face flush with what she could only imagine was deep love for her, for he had professed the depth of his love many times, and she had no way of knowing to that point, that he was indeed bursting with the depth of his love. He was careful to keep his swollen cock away at first.

With a surge of still-innocent passion for her new husband, she reached up and kissed the handsome, sandy-haired man, parting her lips a little more than she ever had before. The pleasure of touching her lips to his this way had set her mouth on fire. It was so personal! And after all, they were man and wife now! Suddenly she felt his respond, but it was so unexpected! She had seen actresses part their lips in a kiss on television, but she had not known that a man put the tip of his tongue into a woman's mouth and caressed her lips! She liked it. She liked it very much! She liked the way their entire relationship changed at that moment!

As he pressed his mouth tightly onto hers, she felt him draw her tiny body up into his arms and hold her tight against his strong body. It was wildly exciting. She felt almost like Jane being carried through the trees by Tarzan! An electric kind of thrill surged through her as she realized that she was being hissed like a wife, and she only hoped that she was doing it all the correct way. Her mother has assured her that she could leave everything to Doug, and she had.

Suddenly he let the towel fall to the floor, and though she naturally squirmed to get free and pick it up, he swept her nakedly exposed body up against his chest and carried her into the adjoining bedroom.

She had listened to his heavy breathing as he quickly unbuckled his belt and unzipped his fly. As nervous as she felt lying on the bed, bared to his appraising gaze, she could hardly wait! She wanted his naked body down on hers with an intensity that shocked her. He was still removing his clothes when she reached out and with her hand quivering timidly touched the thick hard rod of flesh bulging at the front of his shorts.

Her cool hand felt like an icy flame around his throbbing, lust-swollen cock, although his dazed mind boggled at her aggressiveness. He was sure she was a virgin. He had expected her to be petrified into passivity the first time. Had she... had she done anything like this before? Douglas Tyler had not the courage to ask. He felt his prick jump crazily at her long awaited touch, the bulbous head growing thick and full with the pulse of blood that roared up from his constricted testicles. His testicles filled with sperm, and he moaned aloud as he felt his own hands, like things apart, reach for his new wife's incredible tits. Gently, softly, he crushed them. Oh what nakedly tender flesh she had!

"Oh!" Emma cried. "Oh, Douglas!" His exploring fingers awakened to a life of their own, racing over the gasping girl's burning young skin, over her generous tits, over her tight young stomach and nearer, ever nearer to the golden area that was at last, unbelievably his own!

"Oh, Emma!" he whispered hoarsely. "Emma! To think that no man has ever known you before!" And he crushed his lips down onto her buttery mouth again and touched his flaming fingers to her virginal pussy. Feeling the hot moist flesh beneath the fleece teasing at his cupping palm, he crooked his middle finger and slowly, gently, but insistently, inserted it up between her open thighs until the blunted tip was clasped just inside the entrance to her tight little cunt.

"Oh, Doug! Oh, Douglasssssss! It feels so goooooooooddddddd!" Emma gasped, wriggling her loins around on his lewdly impaling finger.

"Oh, God," he moaned. "How wonderful you are! How beautiful! And you're all mine! Mine! Forever and ever mine alone!"

Even if there had been any reason, they could not have stopped at this point. They had waited so long! They had dated for four years before getting married. When they first met, Douglas had been the patronizing tennis teacher just out of the army, teaching tennis for something to do while he waited for a post in the diplomatic service. Emma had wanted to brush up on her game during summer vacation from college and, incidentally, meet the handsome Douglas Tyler the neighborhood was raving about. She had met him and they had dated before he won his post and was transferred overseas. Yet whenever he came home, they dated almost constantly and a tender, passionate attraction grew stronger between them.

Seeing each other not more than a month altogether in a single year, it was easy for Emma to keep her virginity. When she dated others, she thought of Douglas each time the temptation to give in to her date arose. When with her, Douglas was willing to wait until he got back overseas to satisfy his sexual hungers on women he didn't care to marry. The desire to marry Emma-because she was a virgin became an obsession with him. People laughed at virginity these days! Everybody questioned its value. Well, he was going to investigate for himself just what the value of virginity was!

Finally on his wedding night, with a groan of blessed surrender to his needs at last, he delved deeper in between the small puffy lips of his wife's eagerly proffered pussy, so beautiful and hot, as hungry as a whore's! His thin, already throbbing slit felt as clean and virginal as hers, and as he pressed against her tightness, he felt his lust-swollen cock harden even more stone-like, the blood careening through it until he wished that right now he could thrust it up between her virginal cuntal lips.

But he was afraid! She was so very tiny! He had never known such a tiny woman and he was sure that he would never fit. He continued rubbing the budding, pinkening nub of her tiny clitoris as she whispered directly into his kissing mouth,

"Please, Doug, Please! Faster! Faster!" Her legs moved about over his, and she rubbed her belly at the same time slowly, in an agonizingly tempting posture against his naked loins. The pain of desire coursed through his gut. His cock pounded, aching to get to the moist little crack that slipped and slid wetly beneath his slaving fingers. No, he thought, I've got to stretch it first. She's too tiny! Too small! Too ... too... virginal! It was not until then that he realized he had never in his life had a virgin before! He didn't know how to keep it from hurting. He didn't even know if it were possible to keep it from hurting. He had been told that it hurt at first, but he had also been told that she would be frightened and reticent. She certainly was not reticent! She was, in fact, a little sex-craved nymph. He recalled the vision of her falling in the tub, her open legs sprawling so that the cascading water hit her pussy. It had stimulated him and perhaps her, too. Now, remembering spurred on as he fucked his middle finger like a persistent worm deeper into her narrow virginal pussy, feeling the ripples of pleasured moisture emanating from between her silken legs. Her whole being drew closer to him, the hardening clitoris, that sent electric current surging through her system in all directions, churning against his palm. Then, instinctively, she tilted her hips up toward her new husband's hand, urging his finger deeper into her tightly contracted cunt. But instead, he pulled his finger out and smoothed it over the top of her tenderly throbbing slit, moving up and down, teasing the entire slash with devastating accuracy.

"Oooooohhhhhh, Douuuuuglaaaaasssss!" the new wife cooed. "Douuuuugggggaaaaasssss!" She moaned and moaned, urging him on and pulling him tight against her firm, generous tits as her hands grabbed in frustration at the beautiful, enormous cock which pressed and jerked against her naked thigh like a blind animal that couldn't find the door to its home!

Her ministrations, naive though they were, were taking their toll on the young husband, and as his finger fucked forward into the seeping hole of Emma's hotly gyrating aunt, he felt the sweat pour off his forehead onto her lips. She licked it happily, astounding him with the earthiness of her action, and wriggled her tempting curvaceous body even harder against him, all of which excited him even more until his already massively bloated prick swelled under her suctioning finger manipulation to a size that finally awed even her!

"Oh, Douglas!" she squeaked. "Oh, Douglas, it's so big! It's terribly big! Will it fit?" Terror shook through her as she suddenly realized that the huge, lewdly pulsing rod, which she had elongated and swelled by her own lascivious touch, was supposed to go inside her down there! It would never fit!

But what could her husband say? "Y... yes! Of course it will fit!" he stuttered, only half believing it. For the first time since he had known Emma, he found himself wishing that she were not a virgin, after all! God, he should have tried her on for size at least once!

The young, twenty three year old virginal wife was suddenly very scared. Tears of terror welled in her big blue eyes and even overflowed a little out of the very corners, but by the time this happened, Douglas was beyond noticing. With one of his hands, he was maintaining her soft hand hard around his veiny cock and with the other he was continuing his obscene explorations of her hotly quivering virginal pussy, working it harder and higher, his finger fucking in a deep plunge, inch by inch up the tight hole, stretching the minute opening until little by little Emma's frightened protestations melted into wicked cries of delight.

"Oh, yeeeeessss, Douglas! Yeeeeeessssssss!" she moaned as his gentle probing strokes fucked to the apex of her cervix, sending a seeping warm spread of desire coursing through her virginal womb and tingling out to the distant reaches of her entire body. She cried out with delight again as he stroked the silky softness within the defensively clenching hole of her childishly tight pussy.

"Oh, Emma, baby," he moaned over and over, frantically burrowing between the burning wet folds of his young wife's engulfing cunt as it pulled his fingers hungrily up inside. "You're my very own wife," he cooed, "my very own!" And in desperation he clung to her sweetly kissing mouth, holding back the insatiable, wicked, utterly unbelievable moment when his "very own" would no longer be a virgin!

The mere thought of taking her virginity enflamed him. He was thrilled! He was frightened! He flicked his thumb crazily over the throbbing nubbin of hot clitoral flesh as her loins thrust uncontrollably upward against his hand. Then suddenly he felt his beautiful wife's warmly seeping cuntal walls contract sharply around his fucking middle finger and the mewls of unrestricted abandon race in his ear.

"Douuuuugggggglllllaaaaasssss!" she wailed. "Oh, Douuuuuggggglllllaaaaasssss, help meeeee!"

And then he knew that he couldn't! He just couldn't do it! Not this time! "I will, Emma! I am, honey! Just let it cum! Let it cum now! Come on and cum, baby!" And he finger-fucked her sweetly climaxing cunt as hard and fast as he could while at the same time he felt her agonizing fingers tighten against his pistoning cock which surged lewdly against her nakedly squirming belly. Out of control now, his aching, blood-engorged cock plowed through her clasping fingers and rubbed her satin flesh until he felt his orgasm crest with hers.

"Oooohhhhhhhhhhh, Douglas! Douglas! Douuuuuggggglllll aaaaaaassssssss! I'm... I'm cuuuuummmmmiiiiinnnnngggggg!" she cried. "It's... it's so good! It's wonnnndddddeeeerrrrrfffffuuuulllll!" and she vented the full thrust of her repressed sexual fury against his obscenely slaving fingers as his cock burst in a spate of thick white semen all over her nakedly jerking belly. His hard body churned hotly against hers, his fingers fucking her without mercy as she raged against him.

"I'm cuuummmmiiinnnngggg, baby! I'm cumming, toooooo!" he called, cumming like he couldn't ever remember cumming before in his whole life, but God! god dammit! He'd cum on her instead of in her! "You're ... you're the best, Emma," he muttered, dazed by the stupid thing he had done.

Yet it didn't seem to bother her, but, of course, she probably knew no difference! Her hands clung dizzily to him as the soft womanly growl of orgasmic ecstasy bubbled up from her slender throat.

"Aaaaaarrrrrggggghhhhh!" she groaned and twisted in a final ecstatic spasm around his thickly inserted finger and then in a final shudder collapsed against him just as his own cum emptied in one last spurt over her flat white belly.

Emma wrenched again now under the pounding flow of water as she remembered the first lewd night on her honeymoon with Douglas, his creamy semen spilling over her naked belly as the bath water was now spilling over her voluptuous curves. Since then, they had had normal intercourse, but never again had she known quite so satisfying an orgasm. It was strange. She knew Douglas had been embarrassed, which accounted, she believed, for his subsequent nervousness. It had been painful for her for several nights. She doubted that she had recovered even yet. But it had been rather nice to feel the arousal downstairs, to know that she still had it, even though she was ashamed it was not for Doug. Still, she could fix that!

Her desire was mounting as the steady flow crashed down upon her lewdly exposed pussy flesh, splashing droplets up onto her jackknifed legs, echoing in the elegant tiled bathroom. Her long blond hair flowed against the white porcelain and the gilt fixtures like additional gold, and her mouth opened as the ecstasy between her spreading thighs mounted quickly in time with her own crazy recollection. And then just as she felt her climax breaking, she was aware of a pair of black hands holding her thighs apart and lifting her ass high under the flowing spout.

"What... who? Ooohhhh!" she gurgled, water rushing into her mouth, frightening her. She jerked up to see the big Captain, stark naked, holding her white ass fast.

"Go ahead, sweetheart," he commanded. "Do it!" Then suddenly, in spite of her terror, she had no control anyway as the roar of her climax pulsed through her naked flesh in an undefinable swirl of pain and pleasure.

"Aaaaaaggggghhhhh, Douuuuuggg!" she moaned tearfully. The big hands were not drowning her or even hurting her. The face was not angry or even amused. It looked seriously concerned, and she was able to relax enough to be mortified to have been discovered like this, in this obscene act of surrender to the utterly basest side of herself, to the purely sexual half of her personality. Oh, God, what would Douglas think! This... this man seemed to think nothing of it! He was helping her! She would have expected him to stop her and force her to accept him instead, but he was participating in her lewd act of unadulterated sexual fulfillment with... without forcing himself.

Something... something was happening... Emma surrendered suddenly to an overwhelming second orgasm, throwing her head back into the water and letting her arm float above her head like a drowning mermaid. "Oooohhhhh Goddddd!" she screamed as her shapely legs and ass convulsed in the stranger's big hands! And as her orgasm subsided, she felt her captor, her partner in the lewd act, Captain Booker, slip into the water beside her.

"Hey, now, I wish something like that would work on me once in awhile!" he said, grinning wickedly at her. Squeezing her against the side of the tub as though she wasn't there, the big black man began soaping down his arms and long black legs as Emma pulled away and started to climb out of the tub.

"Now, don't you go being embarrassed on me at this point... after all we been through together?" he said, pulling her gently down and smiling at her tenderly so that she sat again obediently.

"All... all right," she said, her eyes wide and blue, staring at him, wondering what was coming next But he said nothing, just went on washing. She began to feel uncomfortable, as though some explanation for her actions was due.

"I... I'll tell you the truth," she murmured. "I was getting you out of my system."

"You couldn't do that with your husband?" he asked, grinning a little now.

She blushed. "You've hardly given us that opportunity," she spat defensively.

"I didn't know you wanted it!" he said. She still couldn't tell if he was laughing at her or not.

"Of course, you'll give me everything I want!" she said sarcastically. Before she could say anything further, he broke in.

While he was turning the spigots to stop the flow of the water, he told her, "I just let you have what you wanted." Now he turned and took her white shoulders in each of his strong black hands. "More than you wanted your husband," he continued the thought.

"What do you mean?" she asked, angry because she felt the truth of his words more than she wanted to admit to herself!

"You could have waited for him," the big man murmured. Strange, unwanted feelings were creeping around, even after two orgasms, under her skin. "If you really wanted him," the man continued, "you would have waited to see if we put you together!"

Emma Tyler felt a quiver in her delicate nose. He was almost fatherly to her, this big black man! Fatherly and yet not so fatherly! What really intrigued her, though, was what he seemed to know and understand and accept. What bothered her was the way he kept seeing inside of her, reading her mind better than she could do it herself, and then making her face it. For it was true. Whatever the excuse she had given herself, which she had forgotten now, she had known she was on the brink of an orgasm and had feared that Douglas, instead of bringing it on, might have spoiled it!

"Myyyyy," the big man said when she couldn't seem to answer him. "You sure are dirty. The dust is hard to see on bleached out skin like yours," he told her," but I can feel it. Let me wash you, okay?"

She could not help laughing when he spoke of the dirt, invisible on her skin, because of the way he rolled his eyes. What could she do but nod and relax as his gentle hands palmed the fragrant soap over her softly gleaming white shoulders and then down the swells of her widely spaced, upturned tits. As he reached the tips, the rosy nipples contracted and sprang out hard and tight into his hands. It was odd how relaxed and safe she felt! She had never felt this at ease with her own husband! Could she still be feeling the scotch? She was not aware of any lingering effects.

Suddenly he lowered his lips to her swollen pink nipples, sucking on one first, then the other while his black hands smoothed the cake of soap down her belly then around back and up her spine toward her shoulders and the swan white skin of her neck. She was smooth as a baby, he thought, her skin rippling softly under his attention, her eyes closed now with the warmth and contentment his paternal ministrations elicited from her. It had gone easily, more easily than he expected.

"Here," she said at last, taking the soap from his hand, "let me do you, too." Deftly she ran her soapy hands through his curling chest hairs, over his dark little nipples. Everything about him seemed so very black and thick. She found it incredibly exciting to run her fingers through his hair with its little kinks, over his broad chest and then down the trail of fine hairs to the tangled pubic tufts under the water that framed his fleshy cock dangling limply between his crossed legs. She was surprised by the limpness of his prick and... humbled!

He sensed her disappointment. "Mmmmmmm, that feels very good," he told her as her hands faltered, exploring the delicate crevices under the thick blanket of pubic hairs. Her caressing renewed and the limp cock began to stir, rising slowly to life.

She giggled like a child. "Hey! What's that, the Loch Ness Monster?" she teased, gently soaping the elongating black shaft and probing ever so gently at the dangling testicles hidden beneath.

Captain Booker's brown eyes glazed over with desire for this white woman, this fragile white girl, and with his hands stroking the delicious curves of her soft young body, he reached over and kissed her passionately full on the mouth, pressing her head back against the edge of the tub. There was no doubt that she was returning his feelings, crazy though it seemed, probably as much so to her as it did to him. As he pulled back and brushed her long blond hair away from her flawlessly beautiful china face, he whispered to her,

"Let's get out of here, Emma. Come and dry off. There is a large bed!"

Emma raised herself up out of the soapy water, her legs stiff with the rising lust growing between them, concentrating a fire deep within the soft blond triangle and coraline slit that throbbed crazily with the need for the black rod of lust-engorged flesh now looming like a cannon out from the Captain's loins. Slowly and sensually they toweled each other dry and then, with his blood-hardened prick still jutting out horizontally from his lower belly, the Head of State brushed out his hostage's long blond hair until it shone with the brilliance of sunlight at noon. As he brushed, his massive black prick caressed against her nakedly rounded white asscheeks, and he could no longer postpone the agony of his desire.

"Come on, baby," he said hoarsely. "I'm going to fuck this thing into you until you scream or I'll pass out!" His voice was husky with desire, and Emma turned straight on to face him. This was a terrible thing she wanted to do! Her eyes sparkled like the sea. She felt radiant, but at the same time she felt so guilty she could hardly breathe.

Watching her face, he hesitated. He had decided that he didn't want to force her. He wanted no struggling, no half-way measures. He wanted her to give herself to him full force and with all her heart and mind. It was a crazy thing he wanted, but he had always wanted crazy things, everyone said. Like here he was, wanting to make a country out of the Whitelaw Estates! Well, what difference did it make how crazy it was? If he wanted it, he would have it, that's all!

"You still think thus is wrong?" he asked suddenly.

The conflict tore at her guts, but she was honest with him.

"Yes," she admitted almost breathlessly.

He swept her up in his arms and with his powerful shoulders inched open the door and then strode into the bedroom. The wide, elegant bed looked soft and inviting. The room was as opulent as all the others in the house, and Emma suddenly felt like a queen about to be fucked by her king and her guilt began to ebb. He placed her on the bed, and then, to her surprise and disappointment, pulled away.

He smiled with difficulty, and with admiration, she sensed what his decision was costing him. "I can wait until you no longer feel guilty!" he said firmly. "Get some sleep," he ordered her and turned to leave.

Incredibly enough, she realized that her heart yearned to cry out to him to stay! But how could she ask such a thing of the man who had kidnapped her, who might, in the end, for whatever the political reasons were, have to put her to death!

Emma was certain that when she awoke, Douglas would be with her again, at least to eat. But when her meal came in, so did Captain Booker. She had put on a little wrinkle-free travel dress that she always carried with her on public transportation because it was easy to change into, but there was no need to be dressy in these circumstances. Captain Booker might be trying to impress her, but she was not trying to impress him! But she combed her blond hair carefully and applied just a touch of mascara over her big blue eyes and penciled her lids brown.

Captain Booker surveyed the blue print dress that clung sensually to her long shapely legs, and his eyes climbed the extent of her tiny waist up to the succulent tits. She looked regal, and for the first time he realized what a magnificent queen she would make. It was possible his people would object, but he had an answer for that. His whole bargaining power with the British was that he wished to cane a pro- western country out of the middle of one that would be definitely anti- west once that rebellion took place! It was better that the government cede the Whitelaw Estates to Captain Booker and leave it to him to expand his country as best he could so that the anti-western forces, which were rumbling louder and louder each year, would be left in the powerless shape of a fragile donut on the outskirts of Whitelaw. To prove his pro-western intentions, he was marrying a white woman, whose husband... let's see... whose husband met with an accident? No! The big Captain thought. That might alienate Emma forever. But maybe her husband could be induced by Olivia...

He excused himself from Emma almost as soon as he arrived, and slipped down the hall to Olivia.

"I could find nothing out from the pig of an ambassador. He kept telling me that Whitelaw was never mentioned at all in government circles, which is ridiculous! I want you to use your charms, Olivia! All the charms necessary to learn what you can, do you understand me?"

Olivia smiled a cat-like half smile, her shapely lips bending slightly downward and her brown eyes flickering with more complete understanding than he had intended her to have. She knew that the little blond hostage was too much of a temptation to him, and she supposed that Douglas must be kept busy and happy so that no one would ever be told what went on at Whitelaw. Booker did not wish to appear incapable in western eyes. He wanted to be the serious-minded reformer and expert governor. She had thought that taking hostages was the worst way to maintain a good image, but Booker's reasoning was that there was no point in having a good image if no one was looking. These days, one had to take hostages to be looked at! And, she thought, if it were true that Whitelaw was not being mentioned in government circles, then maybe Booker was right! It had not been much of a revolution to walk into the Whitelaw Estates as Captain Booker's forces had done while the Whitelaw descendants were away in England arguing over which of them should live here. But the black forces had moved in! Of course, the Whitelaw's might not realize it yet!

The handsome Captain turned and put his arm around her once again, squeezing her lightly as he had when he first came in. She felt his real indifference though a shot of electricity coursed through the faithful woman's dark loins, and she felt the inevitable moisture pooling warmly at the vee between her thighs. On a second thought, he leaned over and kissed her, paternally, just to the side of her mouth. She thrilled and the "Can't he wait?" she rasped hotly.

The Captain looked at her blankly and then impatiently as though there was something she was refusing to understand.

"Of course not! We don't have forever! And this... uh... mood you're in could be very valuable."

Olivia saw the lie in his expression. It glinted in his averted eye. In a low, barely audible voice, she murmured,

"Okay, Captain, if that's the way you want to play it."

He was already looking toward the door, planning his exit line.

"Guess you had better get back to your business and leave me to mine, then," she told him, sarcasm just barely coloring her softened voice.

Gratefully, if guiltily, the big Captain smiled and left.

Douglas Tyler sat in the room that had been assigned to him, wondering how all the pieces in this fiasco fit together. He only wished that it were possible to receive some word from his superiors so that he would know what to say and what to do. The Captain had made it clear to him that he and Emma would not see each other again for weeks and maybe forever! In a way it was a relief Douglas found it difficult enough to think for himself without having to think for two! He had not been raised to think. He had been schooled by his father from the time he was small to quickly analyze and understand someone else's thinking and to translate it into the diplomatic blarney that governments used with each other. But to be this kind of translator, one had to have something to translate... some message, some instructions from someone!

What was Douglas Tyler to think of the new country of Whitelaw? No one in government had ever mentioned it so Douglas had never heard of it. Had his government decided that it exists? Whether or not a country exists has everything to do with how an ambassador treats it! Well, if he made any mistakes, how could anyone possibly blame him, Douglas decided. How could he have an official attitude without knowing his government's official position? The only attitude he was sure of was toward his little wife. He knew he had to protect her, he had to cooperate for her sake, as long as protecting her through his cooperation did not endanger the official position of his country, whatever that was!

Douglas was already concerned about Emma and this Captain Booker person. Obviously the man had made a pass at his pretty little wife and encountered