Vanessa's Outing

With tears in her eyes, she rasped out: "Yes, Massa!"

It brought cheers from all of them.

Jimmy approached her, as they held her there in the men's room. He was smiling and said to her:

"Tell you what, nessa, we'll give you a real live chance here. There is a choice to be made. We will either put you in the toilet stall there and each get a chance to piss on you. Or we're going to take you outside. But not for the hose this time; we'll take you outside and stomp your ass and beat the shit out of you good."

"Please don't do that, Massa," she said, reverting to the language she'd used before in her desperation not to be beaten by them.

Jimmy lashed out and slapped her face.

"Don't fucking interrupt me," he said with vehemence.

She hung her head then and was silent, sobbing all the while. (Knowing that she'd gotten into this by herself, and hating that, even hating herself for it.)

But Jimmy brightened up right away. He lifted her chin and said to her:

"As I was saying, we have that choice, and since you're a lawyer and know how to deal with these things, and talk to change people's minds. Why you just go ahead and convince us that we should take you and piss on your instead of beating your ass."

Nessa looked around, she looked particularly frightened.

But she was determined; she smiled, kind of gathered herself together and began to speak.

"Massa Jimmy, friends, let me begin by thanking you all for what you've done for this poor girl tonight. I came here, you know because you saw it, looking rich, dressed rich, acting rich; I came here being the part of this important, 'together' lawyer. A lawyer who only stopped by this place, where you love to come and have a few drinks and have fun, only because I needed help. Not because I was ready to be honest with you about who I was, or what I was. But it was my sincere good fortune that you saw through all of that, and recognized that beneath the fancy clothes, which you so rightly soon helped me to take off totally, beneath the fancy lawyer clothes I was only a black, nigger girl who needed a man to show her what her place was. To show her, I mean, that she needed to be a naked nigger girl, kneeling at the feet of her Massa, and opening her nigger mouth to take in his cock, if she'd let him have it. This was no regular chance to just gobble another nigger cock for her. No, her Massa was going to let her suck on white cock. And for that, Massa, this nigger girl, ain't no lawyer here now, just you gentlemen and nessa this nigger girl, she just thanks you. And then, when this cup you give nessa to sip from is so full but you show how good a Massa you is by sharing her; giving her in your big hearted gesture to your friends. This nigger girl, Massa, this nessa got to dance with you, to dance for you. She thanks you for that. She got to be the one who was given all those white cocks by your friends; given them into her mouth, into her black pussy, into her round nigger ass. And then you all goes and helps nessa out by washing her filthy whore body, when she needs it. Do you see why this girl should be grateful, Massa Jimmy? Do you just see? And now I thinks that you should end this here evening the way it needs to be ended. Nessa she's been good, she's done everything you tole her to do. But you need, all of you need to show this black assed nessa one more time, what she's worth in this here road house: you just go ahead and you take her into that stall, you tie her there and you just do what's right and use your white pricks to piss on her. It's what this black nessa, your nigger, Massa, deserves. You just go and do that. Ain't no cause for you to hurt ol' nessa but is right and proper to piss on her."

She finished and Jimmy and all of them were clapping and cheering at her 'performance.'

Then they took her into the toilet stall; they tied her hands above her head to the piping, and her ankles to one another with the rope extending back behind the toilet. They'd let the seat up and made the naked woman straddle the porcelain, clenching it with her thighs to keep from sinking into the toilet.

Jimmy said to her: "Comfy there, nessa?"

"Yes, Massa," she said.

"Fit okay?" he wanted to know.

"Fit is kinda big," she admitted, "What with this seat up; makes old nessa have to grip her thighs against the toilet bowl . . ."

"To keep your black ass from falling into the toilet!" he finished it for her laughing.

"Yes, Massa, to keep this nigger girl's ass from falling into the toilet, where she belongs.'

She looked around then and smiled at them all, as they watched her.

For her own self, and for the kind of humiliation she was seeking in this place with these men, the language of slavery was working its way directly to her pussy, which might be bald but was certainly wet again. The very thought that it was going to end up with them pissing on her pushed her beyond the range of her sexual fantasies into a land of simply body heat and need.

She smiled and said to them:

"You just step right up and you go ahead and piss on your nessa; she don't mind none; she needs it; she deserves it. What this nigger girl for, if not for you white men to piss on?"

Jimmy stepped up first; he opened his fly, took out his cock and simply began to piss on nessa. He pissed on her thighs, her pussy area, bald now, and up to her face.

He shouted at her to open her mouth and keep it open.

Nessa accepted the treatment with a sob in her throat, and realized that she was close to another of the many orgasms that she'd had that night.

She writhed on the toilet as the sexual passion swept over her.

"Fucking cunt loves it!" someone said.

They lined up and every single one of them stepped in to piss on nessa.

She took it all, and even came close to another orgasm, as they were finishing.

They ended up patting each other on the back and doing a lot of laughing and giggling about the 'black piss bitch' in the toilet. It was as though the merriment was covering their shame at having done it.

She sat there, her thighs clutching at the sides of the porcelain of the toilet. She was covered with piss, every exposed part of her had been pissed on. Hear newly bald head gleamed with a sheen of yellow tinted liquid.

She looked up at Jimmy Tate, standing now in the entrance to the toilet and looking down at her.

"Thank you, Massa Jimmy!" she said quietly and simply.

Someone mocked her and said in a falsetto voice: "Thank you, Massa Jimmy!"

Jimmy snapped over his shoulder: "Hey, give the girl a break; she's had a hard night!"

They all laughed at that.

"Thank you, Massa," she said again to him.

"Oh, don't thank me yet, nessa; we still have one more treat for you."

Her eyes clouded, and she only stared at him dumbly. She had no idea at all what they might have thought up to now.

"What do you think,girl?" Jimmy asked.

She thought and sighed: "I guess, Massa, that since this nigger slut's so pissy dirty, we have to have that hose again."

Jimmy laughed then: "You really don't like that hose, do you, nessa?"

"No, Massa Jimmy," she said, allowing herself to lapse into the dialogue now to keep him or them from getting angry here at what looks like the end. She still had the possibility of that beating in her mind.

"This nessa don't like that hosin'"

Jimmy laughed again: "Then we just won't do it."

Then turning to the others, he said: "Get her, boys; let's go we're ready."

They acted quickly and she had no time to think or react. She was suspended kind of between two of them, and simply borne along with them. They went out back again. Not far from the place where they'd put her earlier in the grass to hose her down was a kind of pit.

It was a dirt pit but periodically, when they had participants, it was filled with water and stirred up to become a mud pit for women's mud wrestling. They took nessa to the edge of the pit. There they set her down.

Nessa looked into the mud pit and realized what was on their mind. She looked around kind of hopefully that maybe they were just kidding.

"May I speak?" she asked.

"Sure,nessa," Jimmy said, "What's on your mind now? I bet you're going to ask for the hose now," he said this last with a kind of cruel smile.

"Sure am, Massa Jimmy, please don't throw nessa into no mud hole."

"Beg," Jimmy said to her. "Get on your hands and knees and beg.

Nessa assumed the position on her hands and knees and began:

"Massa Jimmy, and all you gentlemen, nessa's been a good nigger for you all this night; you showed her, her place; and she thanks you; you asked her to dance and she did. You took off her clothes and she liked it, and she danced naked for you all. Then you all showed this nessa that she's a common nigger whore and you used her that way. And, truth to tell, your nessa just liked that: liked having her pussy, and her mouth and this round black ass used by you fine white gentlemen. Why don't you please just clean this nessa up like you done before? Why don't you use hose this nigger girl down again? You certainly had fun doin' that. I'se beggin' you, Massa Jimmy! I'se jus beggin' here; please don't use your nessa this way."

Jimmy laughed; they all did, and they all clapped for her. She remained there on her hands and knees at the edge of the mud hole. She looked around a bit fearfully. It was almost as if it was one humiliation too much for her.

Jimmy grinned at her: "Well, done, nessa; well said."

Then he put his boot against the side of nessa's ass and gave her a great shove; he pushed her and she lost her balance and tumbled into the mud hole.

She came up sputtering, and coughing, and simply, totally covered with mud.

"Great evening!" Jimmy said, "Nessa, you're lots of fun; now you come on back, you hear?"

They all left then, laughing.

Nessa sat alone in the mud hole. She thought of the way she'd spoken, and what she'd let them do to her, and it simply brought tears to her eyes. At the same time, she knew, she knew deeply, that if she weren't covered with tall this mud, she be playing with her pussy right now.

"Girl," she said to herself, "You're fucked up in the head."

"Yes," came the answer, "But it's so fucking grand, and it's so, so hot."

A voice broke into her thoughts then:

"Come on out of there,"

It was Huck. The cars, and pick ups were all gone. It was as if, when they were finished with her finally, they might have feared some kind of retribution.

"Yes," she said, no longer lapsing into the southern black patois that she'd been using. "Here I come."

She walked out of the mud hole, totally covered with the muck.

"Stand over there," Huck said quietly to her.

She did as she was told, and moved over to stand in the grass spot. He turned the hose on her. She shivered but was happy to have the mud off of her. Eventually he had her all washed off.

He looked at her, when he was done with the hosing. He spoke to her then slowly:

"Come here for a minute."

She looked at the gentle giant of a man ordering her to come toward a tree by the back, and she did as she was told.

"Now turn around and grab a hold of that tree."

She did as she was told again. Then she heard his zipper, and she felt his hands on her ass.

He slapped her cold wet ass.

"Uhhhhh!" the sound exploded from her.

"Marvelous ass!" he said, and he slapped her again.

He kept slapping nessa's ass. She kept grunting with the same kind of explosive sound.

Then she could feel his stiff cock rubbing up and down her ass crack.

"Use the language please," he said almost urgently.

She knew, and so she did: "Yes, Massa Huck; you just go and slap that nigger girl's ass; it what she likes."

"Ohhhhh godddd!" he moaned. "You are so gorgeous!"

He slapped her again and then pushed into her pussy. She grunted now with pleasure to have a man in her pussy again. To maybe help her finish off.

"Ohhhh, yes, Massa!" she wailed, "Fuck this nigger."

Then Huck slipped his cock out of her pussy and stabbed it into her asshole, much more receptive now that she'd been fucked in the ass so much this evening.

It got another grunt from her. He kept slapping her ass as he fucked her.

He gripped her hard finally and came into her asshole. Then he pulled out and walked off. But he came back soon. He had her clothes, and her purse with her car keys and all. He also had a basin of warm water, and towels. He washed her then, her pussy, her asshole, her face and all. He gave her the towels and she dried herself, and dressed.

"Don't know that you do want to come back," Huck said. "But you sure are gorgeous. Hope you're okay."

She got on tiptoes and kissed him on the cheek.

"I am okay," she said, "Thanks, Huck, for taking care of me."

Her car was in the parking lot now. She got to it; it started immediately, and she left.

She was silent for the first part of the ride home. She thought back on it, and the heat of it all thrilled her again: giving in, actually giving in sexually to a road house back room full of red necks. Her pussy ached now as much from the continued longing as from having been used so much.

For a part of her mind, that part that 'nessa' controlled, the humiliation was delicious: having her head shaved, actually shaved bald; having her pussy shaved; the hosing down, the mud hole, being pissed on. She played with herself now as she drove carefully through the back roads. Her litany continued: letting them strip me as I danced, letting them all fuck my pussy and then letting them all fuck my ass. It was so hot to think of it that she thought she might cum again, while driving the car.

And then it broke. It broke in her as quickly, strangely quickly as it had occurred, when she saw earlier that it was a road house.

She knew she was going to be sick. She pulled over in a deserted lay by and just got out of the car in time to be sick into the bushes. She knew also that the sickness then wasn't really even from all that she'd taken into her mouth during her evening at the road house. She was sick because she was sick about what she'd done.

She allowed herself to live the fantasy, yes. But in the process she'd allowed herself to be degraded, humiliated, used as an animal, spoken to as an animal, and she herself spoke the outrageous patois of a human slave.

She was sick again then, and a few more times after that. When she calmed down from that, she sat in her car and cried for the next half hour. It had almost the ferocity of a crying jag. She just gave in to it. Periodically sobbing the question: "Why?"

She got no answer. She didn't even allow her mind to delve into the darkness and debauchery of that night, of what she'd done, who she'd been, how she'd acted, how she'd spoken.

And she knew that it wasn't the sex either; it was the transformation that she'd allowed, had undergone, from the respected, astute lawyer to a kind of sexual animal, jumping through hoops for the red necks!

She caught herself and her thoughts at that point, and again she cried.

She didn't actually get home until really, really late. By then there was no more emotion, no more passion, no more self hate, actually no more energy for any of those emotional upheavals. She felt only the tiredness, and she showered using extra hot water, and then tumbled into bed with no energy for anything else.

The first half of the week was spent in various stages of the same rage. She was an angry woman, and for that time period, an angry lawyer. It was in such moods that she was always at her best. Other tried to stay out of her way. She became efficient, decisive and achieved more than she even normally did.

She was hardly surprised at how angry she had become with herself over 'the road house adventure' as she thought of it. And then, as the week progressed, her actions simply added fuel to the fire.

Every night she retired with her vibrator and relived it. She did the same dirty things again, she used the same impossibly humiliating language again. She spoke to herself in bed using the slave patois and it simply turned her on.

It also led to her spectacular rages during the days. It was almost like a self defeating syndrome for her. The week passed with these titanic mood swings for her.

By the end of the week she was desperate, desperate to recapture some bit of the normal for her life. She realized that life on this edge was too, too exhausting to maintain. She decided to treat herself out to dinner.

She'd make it an occasion for herself. She dressed to attract attention: steep, sling back heels, a white pleated skirt, a white silk blouse that was of a hazy enough material that she could get away with wearing it with no camisole, her panties and bra were lacy and peach colored, and the gloss of her panty hose added a kind of luster to her outfit. She also wore one of the wigs that she'd bought for herself, although she had to admit that for her the 'no hair' look wasn't all that bad.

This, however, was a thought that she just pushed away. She didn't want to think of it at all.

Vanessa remembered a nice country looking place in the north a bit, near where she did the estate work. She decided that she'd go there.

It was late by the time she drove up into the area but then she'd only decided relatively late in the day to go out to dinner. She had thought that she could find it but it wasn't exactly where she'd remembered.

She decided to try one more place where it might be. Finally, she pulled into a parking lot to turn around or at least ask,and she parked. She unbuckled her seat belt and looked up only to get one of the shocks of her life.

She sat now in the parking lot of the road house. It was the same place. Looking over to the left and behind the building a bit she could see the contours of the mud pit.

"Ohhhhhh no!" she wailed to herself, "Ohhhhhhh no! Not again! This is not going to happen again."

She ordered herself to think about it, and relive what had happened, all the humiliation and degradation of it. Her mind went through that strange and horrible night again.

It was too much for her; she buckled up, and drove away.

She was a bit agitated now and no longer sure of where it might be. She drove around seeing various semi familiar landscapes, always trying to place the restaurant in the vicinity of those spots.

Finally, she knew she must ask, and she pulled into the next available place. She was determined now.

To her absolute unbelief, she realized that she'd driven again into the parking lot of the road house. Not consciously aware that she'd done it. She sat, amazed with herself, and what must be driving her.

She realized that she was shaking as she sat there, and even more frightening, she realized that she was excited, turned on. There were tears in her eyes, and her trembling hand was reaching for the door latch. She tried to stay her hand but her overwhelming excitement was becoming too much for her to control.

"This is how it happens," she said to herself, "How it happened before and now again."

And the thought, maybe even the inevitability of it were turning her on. Her mind lapsed into a kind of 'what will they do to me tonight,' state or a 'what will they make me do tonight,' state.

And then she spoke to herself briefly: "Maybe Massa Jimmy here."

Then the tears were running down her cheeks but she was smiling. At that point, despite her rage this week, despite her towering anger, she knew that she was going in there. It was like a personality change for her, and she found herself looking forward to what would happen inside.

She calmly dried her eyes, made sure that her makeup was fresh, and got out, walking toward the entrance.

Huck looked totally surprised to see her. She walked over to where he was at the bar, and, leaning over kissed him quickly.