4 comments/ 32258 views/ 1 favorites Burnt Ginger By: tiggerlilly CHAPTER 1 "Excuse me dear. Haven't I seen you on the telly? Didn't you murder that nice girl off of Eastenders?" "What?" The old lady broke me from my reverie. I had been scowling at my husband, who was openly ogling a leggy white girl. "Yes, I suppose I am. I didn't really kill her, you know." I was tempted to add, "She's not a very nice girl, in real life." "Can I have your autograph?" "Why, of course." I was not often recognised, as I have done very little TV work, and am certainly not a celebrity. Well, not yet. You might however recognise my voice, as my main employment is doing voice overs, for commercials. I do; however have several "voices". If you have a preschool child, they would almost certainly recognise my voice, as a character in a popular cartoon that goes out daily. My husband, Ben, is hardly ever recognised, despite being, in his own words, "probably THE greatest living Lear. Many radio listeners will know him as the voice of God. Ben also does voice overs; "Vulgar; but it keeps one in cocaine", as he is so keen to joke. Although a pompous git, he is a well respected stage actor. He has certainly appeared in a number of Sunday supplements. I am Ben's third wife, and thirty years his junior. Ben has an unhealthy interest in young white women. His current object of inspection was standing ten feet away from us, at Gate 23, at Gatwick Airport. She was having an animated conversation, on her mobile phone, and had not, apparently, noticed Ben mentally undressing her. The woman was tall, probably just shy of six feet. She had a shock of incredibly curly, shoulder length, ginger hair. She was wearing a rather pretty short dress; navy blue with white polka dots. The cap sleeves softened the impact of her muscular shoulders. The dress came to about mid thigh, and what thighs they were. Her legs were long and strong, and as she gently moved her weight, from hip, to hip, her muscles appeared and disappeared, beneath the smooth skin. She had very little subcutaneous fat, and clearly worked out. A lot. The woman's well defined calves disappeared into a pair of fawn pixie boots. The bitch. Her skin was white. Not just Northern European white, but white as snow. I have always been proud of my skin, which is an even cafe au lait colour. Really pale white skin often looks unhealthy, which is why most of my white friends are permatanned. This girl's skin was even and unblemished. I too was staring, hoping to see a bit of stubble, or razor rash. Boy no. I knew what Ben wanted to do to her. Bitch. I wanted to do the same to her. The woman appeared pretty flat chested, and had no real hips to speak of. Unlike me. Unfortunately her overall appearance was boyish, rather than butch. Just how Ben liked them. The bastard. And how I had grown to like them too. I wondered how easily she cried. Soon we were called to board, leaving the leggy beauty behind. Ben would not slum it in cattle class. We were going to have a long weekend of fun and frolics. Ben handed me a small envelope, containing the outlines of my script. He had the full script, in a little book. He would have learned his part, word perfect. Ben never fluffed his lines. I was to improvise, as always. Ben was Marshall, and I was Lisa. We were both excellent vocal mimics, and Ben's accent became effortlessly American Deep South, and my own, Jamaican, modelled on my Nan. We had both been surprised to receive the email from the Puppeteer. His games were always wild and dangerous, but relied on total trust. During a game, I became my character, and would do anything. Strange how I could trust Ben totally, when we were playing, but not at all, in real life. The Puppeteer had, officially, retired a year ago. Ben and I had been married for two years. To be honest, it was a good career move. I knew Ben's habits before we married, and had not expected him to stop; but maybe tone down. I soon discovered how sexually conservative, I had been. Strictly missionary, me. Ben had introduced me to a lot of new experiences. I discovered the joy of sex with other women, and the immense thrill of inflicting pain. On other women. Particularly white women. My best friend is white. I think it is the taboo that excites me so much. I am not a lesbian, mind you. There is one woman, though, with whom I would run off ; but she is strictly unavailable. I love Ben, I suppose, but I do not expect the marriage to last. CHAPTER 2 The flight arrived at Arecife at 11:30 pm. The baggage took ages, and we finally entered the arrival lounge to be greeted by a tall Spanish man, called Jose. Ben described Jose, enigmatically, as a policeman, and "fixer". We followed Jose to the short term car park, where he had parked a black Range Rover, with darkened windows. The air was hot and dry. 1 am; Lanzarote, in early summer. The most easterly of the Canary Islands; nestling, like a,sun blasted, black jewel, in the Atlantic Ocean, a few miles off the African coast. We often visited, for some winter sun. I had always considered it too hot, in the summer. The car thermometer said 25 degrees Celsius. It had been 15, when we left London. A mile along the road we came across a woman, walking, alone, along the hard shoulder, pulling a small suitcase. It was the redhead in the polka dot dress. Jose slowed down and quipped "Why don't these English girls just wear a big sign, saying. Rape me." "Come on Jose", said Ben, "Where's your manners? Slow down and offer her a lift." "Are you ready?" asked Jose. "You bet!" As the car slowed, Ben lowered the window. The woman turned, shielding her eyes, with one hand. Then the car suddenly accelerated. Ben threw open his door. There was a thump, and a scream. I was thrown forward as Jose braked, then reversed. "Quick, Lisa, out." Shouted Ben. The woman was lying in the road, and trying to get up. She managed to get to her knees, and stared, confused, at the Range Rover, illuminated by its reversing lights. Her right hand was pressed against her temple, and blood was seeping from between her fingers. Blood was also running from her nose and mouth. I could barely speak. Jose rushed past me and kicked the woman, in the stomach. She fell onto her side, winded. I felt winded too. Jose grabbed the woman's arms and pulled them behind her back. Ben handed him a white cable tie. Where the fuck had that come from? Jose ripped off the woman's boots and secured her ankles with another plastic tie. Then he stuck a large piece of duct tape over the shocked woman's mouth. My legs had turned to lead, and I wouldn't have been surprised if my bottom jaw had hit the tarmac. Ben brought me back to earth. "Grab an arm, Lisa." Numbly, I did as I was told, and we threw the poor woman into the back of the Range Rover. The men brutally pushed her, off of the seat and, onto the floor. Ben commanded again. "Get in, quick. Put your feet on her neck." Now I knew why he had made me wear such ridiculous stilettos. As I pushed the points, of the heels, into the girl's long neck, she stopped struggling, but continued hyperventilating, and screaming into her gag. Jose pulled off. It had taken ten seconds. Jose and Ben were really high. Ben was going through the woman's handbag. "Well lookey here, Jose. She's one of yours. WPC Isabel McMahon, Metropolitan Police. Twenty four years old. Return ticket in seven days." Jose was talking on his hands free mobile phone. He half turned to me. "I have rung her hotel. Miss McMahon has been involved in an accident. She has severe head injuries, and has been flown to the trauma centre, in Las Palmas de Gran Canaria. The hotel wished her well, and confirmed that she is travelling alone." I finally spoke up, still Lisa from Jamaica. "You pair of fucking mentallists. You've kidnapped a fucking policewoman. This isn't like one of your little whores, who can be paid off." Our last sex-weekend had involved using a teenage prostitute, who resisted beautifully, but broke, like they all do. She turned out to be quite costly to keep quiet. My Spanish was limited, and I was likely going to have to learn some new phrase, like: "No Officer, I didn't say anything.", "No, I would not like that broom handle to be rammed up my arse," and, "Yes; I would love to lick your pussy." "Chill," drawled Ben, "By the time she's missed, we will have concluded our games, and the fair WPC will be working really hard, in an African brothel. Eh Jose?" "Si amigo. Young, pale skinned European? Rare as hen's teeth, but very valuable. I'll make the call." "How long will she last?" "Strong, fit girl, like her? Six months." "Then what?" I asked. "The desert is a very big place." I was, by turns appalled and excited. My knickers were getting very wet. How had I become such a depraved slut? I pushed the heel of my shoe harder into the girl's neck, and she whimpered. We headed towards the centre of the island, and then pulled off, onto an unmade road. The car stopped, and Ben jumped out to open a heavy iron gate. About a mile later, we pulled up in front of a low building. Only one light was on. Jose pressed a button, and a large garage door opened. We drove in, and the door shut behind us. The garage was largely empty, and would hold three cars easily. The girl stirred and started thrashing about. We all got out; and Jose opened the nearside passenger door; grabbed the girl's hair, in both hands, and pulled hard. She hit the polished, red concrete floor, with a smack. She appeared temporarily winded again, which made it easy for the men to cut her bonds, and, with short lengths of rope, tie her ankles and wrists to two spreader bars. CHAPTER 3 The uppermost bar had a steel eye, which they attached to an electric winch, which in turn was attached to a steel ceiling joist. Within seconds the terrified redhead was suspended upright, her feet a few inches off the floor. The lower bar was similarly secured to a recessed steel eye, on the floor. Ben had demonstrated the incredible utility of the double spreader bar, many times. Frequently I had found myself spread eagled, and open for abuse. Even without securing the bars, all but the very strongest could put up little resistance. Adjustable bars were useful, particularly for girls with really short, or long, legs. Our current guest clearly came into the latter category. Her dress had ridden right up her thighs, revealing, delightfully matching, blue and white, polka dot knickers. The girl's quadriceps and adductors were bulging as she desperately tried to pull her knees together. She had managed to twist her legs, so her knees almost pointed at each other. That would make a missionary stuffing tricky, but give her no protection against rear entry. Jose had produced a video camera, presumably to show prospective buyers. The girl's porcelain skin shone with a sheen of sweat. I had to see more. I walked behind and slowly unzipped her dress. She squirmed and tried to look over her shoulder. On cue, Ben grabbed the front of the dress, with both hands, and pulled with all his might. The remains of the dress fluttered to the floor. He winked at me, and we each took one side of her small knickers in a fist and pulled. Rip. And she was exposed in all her glory. I adore toned women, and her back was just magnificent, especially as she was squirming so much. I put a hand on her slick skin, surprisingly cool for a hot night. The girl tried to pull away, and her muscles rippled. I slid my hand down the centre of her back. She had a few downy blonde hairs, just above her buttocks, but otherwise her skin was smooth; naturally so, I figured. I squeezed a buttock in each hand. Isabel had an arse of steel. I tried slipping my hand down her natal cleft, but she was clenched too tight. She could not, however protect her slit; slick with sweat. I stroked up and down and she moaned. I pushed a finger in and hit hard flesh. The bitch clearly worked out her pelvic floor too. Never mind. Muscles tire. I wandered round to join Ben, admiring the front view. Isabel had small breasts, with little roseate nipples. Roseate nipples; pure romantic fiction. As I had hoped; her tiny tits fitted her athletic body. I wondered if she ever wore a bra. The underlying muscles were pulled taut by her suspension. Her nipples were erect; through fear, not desire. Isabel had a flat tummy, with a six pack that came and went, as she writhed. Her pubes were blonde, just like her eyebrows and eyelashes, and were shaped into a fetching diamond. I touched the surrounding skin. Waxed, not shaved. I licked the smooth skin and moved down to her sweaty pussy, sucking on her tiny unfriendly clit. Jose announced that it was time to go. "I have to return to my alibi, before she wakes up. Mi casa, es su casa, etc. Let me know what you want done with the slut." We were staying at Jose's family winery, although alcohol was now the least valuable drug that passed through. Isabel could have been a model, were it not for her nose, which had clearly been broken, and reset badly. She seemed like a woman who was not particularly vain. She wore no makeup. I expected Isabel to have blue eyes, but they were dark brown, a few shades lighter than mine, flecked with little shards of yellow and green. If windows are the mirror to the soul, I sensed that all was not peace and light, in hers. When Jose was gone, Ben ripped the duct tape from our guest's face and my suspicion was confirmed. "You sick fucking bastards. Let me down, now. Now you hear me. Do you know how long you will spend inside? Even the Spanish take a dim view on kidnapping police officers. Do you think they won't look for me? North African brothel? What fucking planet are you on? Lots of people say the Spanish are too lenient. Sure their sentences seem short; but the prisons are such jungles, that it doesn't matter. You, old man, will come out in a box." Isabel's accent was familiar; lower middle class, South London. Show me a map and I could tell you where she grew up, within five miles. Very close to where I had grown up myself. "Foul mouthed little bitch, aren't you?" said Ben. "You need to be taught some manners. From now on, you are our sex-slave. You will answer to Toy." I was so hot, and wet, that I just had to strip off. Ben is six foot, six inches tall, and in pretty good shape for a 54 year old. I undid his shirt, and removed his belt. I hit the girl as hard as I could, with it, across her right thigh. "Bitch." She screamed at me. "Just wait 'til I get down." I smiled at her, and returned to undressing Ben. I turned him to face the girl, as I slowly peeled off his boxers. She could not help but stare; and her pupils dilated, as his massive erection sprang free. As they say; size isn't everything; but it helps. Whilst the girl was distracted, I slipped two fingers into my sopping pussy, took them out, and forced them into her arid snatch. She did not contract her muscles quickly enough, this time. "Ow. That hurts, you evil cunt." "Talking of cunts," I purred, getting really close to her ear,"I thought it was a myth that white girls were tiny down below. When we're finished, a white man's cock won't even touch the sides. Ben came around behind her, and put a hand on each pale hip. The girl's attempts to pull her knees together had lowered her pelvis perfectly. Ben thrust hard, my fingers acting like a shoehorn, for his tumescent shaft. The girl let out a feral scream. "You fucking wanker. Take it out. Take it out. No. No. Stop. I don't want this. You evil fucking shit. Well, if it's shit you want." "Dirty fucking bitch." Yelled Ben, stepping back, and tripping over the spreader bar. He just about regained his balance, as a huge turd hit the garage floor. "The slut shat on me!" I tried not to giggle, as I watched his penis deflate. I took the belt to Isabel's tiny beasts, raising six lovely wheals. She screamed, and her head slumped forward. I brought the belt down hard across her flat belly. Her head shot up, and she spat, in my face; a real footballer's gob. Ben was lowering the upper spreader bar, and Isabel's feet were now on the floor. I gasped when I saw the gun in his hand. He walked around and pressed it under Isabel's chin. Smith and Wesson .357 Magnum, Highway Patrolman. A present from Jose. It's chambered with hollow points, so even you, Lisa, could maim, or kill, her. Come on take it, while I undo her. I need to shower, and she needs to clean up, before I resume my fun. Isabel surprised me, by not moving, as the ropes were undone. She rubbed her wrists, which were already marking, and her right shoulder, and flank. She made no attempt to cover her nakedness. "I think you've broken my collar bone, and some ribs. I hope you're satisfied" "Follow me," Ben barked. "Hands behind your back. Lisa. Any sudden movements; shoot one of her knees." CHAPTER 4 Ben led us to a downstairs wet room which was clearly designed for a wheel chair user. "I'll pop upstairs, and get the foul whore's crap of my dick. I'm sure you can manage it. Lisa's killed before, cunt. Don't be fooled by the pretty face. She's from a family of Yardies" I stiffened my jaw into the countenance of a killer. "Wash, Toy" The girl switched on the shower and stood under it. I had let her put on a shower cap. She was soon lathered up, but did not move her left arm. She looked coyly over her right shoulder. "Why don't you join me? You look pretty sweaty. The gun will still work if it's wet. We're about the same size, and I can't use my left arm. I've seen the way you look at me. I'm your slave now, and I had better get some practice in. Lisa isn't it? I'm Isabel; please remember my name. I think the old man has you under his will. He's already forced himself on me. I can tell the police that you were an unwilling accomplice." Her voice was soft and seductive, and I was soon under the hot water, and her hands were gently washing me. She took an aching nipple into her mouth and ran her finger up and down my tender slit. My juices were running like a tap, and I surrendered willingly, as he slipped her tongue into my mouth, and wrapped it around my own. Soon the little organs were playing hide and seek; in and out of each other's mouths. Isabel was about two inches taller than me, and our bodies fitted together beautifully. I do not remember slipping two fingers inside her, but her pussy was now slick and welcoming; and she moaned, as I finger fucked her. Isabel slowly squatted, running both hands down my back, making me shiver. Soon her nose was in my bush, and she had sucked the hood of my clit, into her mouth, and was teasing my, rock hard, love button, with her tongue. I came. But she was not done. A finger was slowly massaging my dusky starfish. Then it was inside me. I gasped. It felt fucking enormous. Then she pushed another one in. It hurt, but I heard someone say, in my Island voice.... "Oh yeah baby, stretch me. Fuck my ass." Before meeting Ben, I had not stuck so much as my own finger, up my bottom. He had tried, several times to "take me properly, from behind." Even when restrained, and tortured, my sphincter had held firm. Maybe, one day. Anyway, Isabel had laid her hand just above my pelvic bone and was pushing down, whilst the two fingers in my arse, pushed up. She trapped my womb, and rolled it backwards and forwards, and side to side. I thought I was going to faint, when she re-attached her lips to my clit, and thrust her long, talented tongue into my vagina. "Oh shit, where did you learn to do that? Jesus. I'm coming again." My legs went weak and I slipped to the floor. Isabel kissed me on the nose, washed me clean of cum, and dried me with fluffy white towels. Then she hugged me, and punched me in the solar plexus. I could not breathe. I grasped my tummy and pitched forward into her raised knee, which hit me just below my right eye .My teeth rattled. Then I was being dragged out of the wet room, in a head lock, the revolver pressed painfully into my ear. Burnt Ginger "Oh Daddy. Where are you?" chirred Isabel. "I've got a huge surprise for you." Then she dropped me, with a thump. I stood up, confused. Isabel was on the floor shaking like she was having a fit. Ben smiled. Not a nice smile; and waved a little box. "Taser. Feisty little minx isn't she? Certainly disabled you easily. Quick, grab an arm, and get her to the kitchen, before she comes round." He was enjoying this. I am not the tough, angry black woman, I have portrayed on TV. And I have never pretended so. My one, and only, fight was outside East Croydon train station, six years ago. I had looked askance at four mean girls. They had come at me with bricks. My best mate had fought them off, whilst I screamed. She collected concussion, and a broken nose. It was easy to tie the limp woman to a large oak chair. Ben lifted the oak table and lowered it onto her thighs, so she was again immobilised. CHAPTER 5 Ben had taught me that all women had at least one vanity feature. That was the key to taking their will. Mine was my tits. I remember the time he put both between two pieces of wood, and stood on the top plank, crushing them, with all his weight. I came as I screamed. It was usually tits, arse or legs. This girl? She barely had tits, or an arse. Her sculpted legs? Her porcelain skin? No. It was her cascading, carrot coloured curls. She came round, and shook her mane of hair, like a modern Boudicca. I could taste blood in my mouth, and was ready to hurt her. "So Toy," said Ben, his mouth close to her ear."You really haven't learnt to obey yet. Maybe like Samson, you need to be weakened a bit." Ben produced a studded leather collar, and slipped it around Toy's neck. Reversed, so the studs pressed against her soft skin. He tightened it, so she could just breathe, but any movement, was really painful. I then climbed, on to the table, naked, and showed her the clippers. Toy's pupils became like saucers. "No, please. I'm sorry. I'll do anything." Ben grabbed her ears and pulled her head back, and I set about my grim task. Toy's body shook with tears, as her Titian tresses fell onto the kitchen floor. It took about two minutes. I have never committed such a violent act, before, or since. Pussy cream was running down the inside of my thighs. Shawn, Toy looked small and powerless. Her head was round, with a baby's prominent round forehead. I was reminded of Britney Spears, when she went totally bananas, and showed us that she is not a natural blonde. Even Ben looked less than cocksure. Except for his cock, that is. "Sit in that chair." I commanded him. I had positioned one of the chairs, facing Toy. Ben sat down. Toy sensed my new found power and our eyes locked together. She was crying. Good. I love it when they cry. I grabbed Ben's monumental shaft, in my left hand, and impaled my sopping pussy on it, reverse cowgirl. "Yes," I growled, "Watch how a real woman fucks, you filthy, pasty, dyke whore." I had never really taken Ben's full twelve inches, before, but I slipped around him, like a glove, then pushed up and lowered myself down again. And again. I was so aroused; I could have taken a horse. Toy just sobbed, the fire in her eyes extinguished. Ben of course, just enjoyed fucking without having to do any work. I came really quickly, then again, and again, until with a groan, he dumped his seed in my stretched snatch. I dismounted, and put two fingers inside my satiated love tunnel. I rubbed the gooey mess across Toy's top lip. "I think she's ready." "No." Ben surprised me. He waved the book. "The script says she will be fully ready later. Now help me lift the table off of her legs" Ben untied Toy's arms and legs. "Lie flat on the floor; face down." Toy obeyed, meekly, and Ben tied her wrists and ankles back to the spreader bars. He had me lift the bottom bar and hold it to my chest, like a weight lifter, whilst he brought the top bar up, and clipped the two bars together, with a carabineer. Toy was now suspended in a Palestinian hanging. "OK. Pop the bars over your shoulder. We are going to the garden, to put her to bed. " So we carried he trussed girl outside. A security light showed a patch of freshly raked black volcanic soil. On it were two scaffolding poles, laid parallel, four feet apart. It was easy to attach the spreader bars, to the poles, so Toy laid spread eagled, on her front, totally immobilised in a rectangular steel frame. He threw me a little white ball. "Put these on her." It was a pair of thin trainer socks. "Don't ask me." he said. "It's in the script." It was 3 am. "Come on babe. Let's have a drink, and go to bed. I fancy a nice lie in." CHAPTER 6 I was really tired and slept well. Ben woke me at 11 am. "Quick. She needs turning." "What? Can't I do a wee first? "No, hang on for a bit." Groggily I followed Ben downstairs. We were both still naked. The bedroom was air conditioned, and as we stepped out the kitchen door, the heat and light hit me, making me gasp. Toy was lying where we left her. Her skin, now salmon pink was glistening with sweat. Ben undid the clamps, joining the spreader bars, to the scaffolding poles, and we flipped the girl over. Ben didn't bother reconnecting the frame. "Book says there's no need. She'll be too weak to move." "We stood over the former she-warrior. Her eyes flickered open. "Please. Water." She had not drunk, since getting off the aeroplane. "Open your mouth, bitch." Ben held his cock, and pissed in the girl's mouth. I was shocked. She choked and spluttered, but swallowed most of it. He then had me squat, and relieve myself too. "I'll be back in a minute. Toy is also our toilet." Ben returned with a small bottle of water, and a tube of high factor sun cream. Whilst I gave Toy the water, slowly, Ben applied the cream, thickly, to her closed eyelids, nipples and clitoral hood. "Don't tell me. It's in the script." I rolled my eyes. "Precisely. Now brunch." The fridge was very well stocked, and we proceeded to enjoy a fine meal, washed down with Jose's rough, but refreshing, wine. Ben seemed to have forgotten about the girl in the garden. At 1pm, it was 36 degrees in the shade. Toy had disappeared into the shimmering heat haze, which rose off the devastated volcanic landscape. Only a few hardy lizards scuttled about in the midday heat. "Let's go and see if she's cooked." She was. Toy's front was now pink and slick. She was breathing quickly. Ben produced an ear thermometer, and consulted the script. "39.5. That's way over -cooked. You untie her feet. Let's get her on her feet" Toy groaned, as we dragged her to her feet. Now she was limp, she was much harder to move. Ben put a strange green harness around her neck and secured it behind her back. Then we walked her towards the house. As we passed the swimming pool, Ben pushed us in. Taken by surprise, I went under, swallowed water, and let go of Toy. I came to the surface to find the girl floating face up, supported by the automatic life-jacket, Ben had attached, to her. Toy stirred and moaned. I floated her to the shallow end, where one of the large patio umbrellas was casting shade. Ben threw me a small bottle of water. "Let her drink it slowly. She's at least eight litres down. Dunk her every couple of minutes. Don't let her head dry out." Shouldn't we give her some salt too?" "Ah, that's in the script. No salt." Toy gulped the water and licked her dry lips. "W..Where am I?" "In the pool. What's your name?" "My name is Toy, Mistress. I am your plaything." "Does it hurt?" "My body is on fire, Mistress." "Do you want some more water?" "Only if you decide to give it to me, Mistress." An hour, and two litres, of water later, we pulled Toy from the water, and let her collapse, on a sun bed, in the shade. She drank another litre of water, and fell asleep. Ben checked her temperature; 37.8; going in the right direction. The wall thermometer showed 38 degrees centigrade, which was ameliorated by a gentle breeze. Ben and I had another couple of glasses of wine, and stretched out, and soaked up the rays. The gentle chirr of the crickets, and the rustling of the palm trees, was like a lullaby. I soon dozed off, pondering the irony that an hour in the blazing sun would do me no harm at all. CHAPTER 7 I awoke to the sound of muffled choking. Toy was on her hands and knees, and had about six inches of Ben's massive manhood, in her mouth. He had both hands on the back of her head, trying to force the rest down her throat. I was irrationally jealous. I have always hated oral sex, and considered myself a bit of a freak. I have never sucked Ben off. I will lick his humungous cock head, but any further into my mouth makes me gag. And here was this giraffe necked girl, practically swallowing him. At least she didn't appear to be enjoying if much. Ben smiled at me, pleased with himself." What have I always said, Honey? White ho's love sucking black dick." "You should know," I muttered. Ben noisily announced that he was coming, and a spray of spunk shot out of Toy's nose. I suspected that her face would have been crimson, were it not that shade already. Ben grabbed her ears and pulled hard. His cock came out of her mouth with a loud pop. Toy took great sobbing breaths, as she diligently licked his dong clean. "Thank you Master. I will try and accommodate more of your organ next time." "A light snack for you, bitch. I bet you're still starving." Ben went to the kitchen and returned with a bowl of dried dog food, which he laid on the ground. Toy kneeled before it like a statue. He clapped his hands and she dived in. She was given more water, when she finished; then was made to tidy the table. Ben had me take her to the kitchen and sweep up all of her hair; then to the garage to clean up her shit. Ben had told me to get her to eat it, but I was planning to kiss her later. Toy was smelling really sweaty, and we all retired to the wet room, where she washed Ben and I, then herself. Ben decided that she should only dry herself lightly. Her skin had gone from the colour of a lobster to that of cooked beetroot, and I could only guess how much pain she was in. Ben decided to check his email, and I decided to hurt Toy a bit more. I found a long wooden spatula in the kitchen drawer. I sat on one of the oak chairs, and had Toy put herself over my knee. "My husband has a particular weakness for cock sucking white whores. Every time he comes in your filthy mouth, I am going to punish you. Do you think that's fair?" "Yes of course, Mistress." "You will count." I brought the spatula down on Toy's right buttock, as hard as I could. The skin turned white for a few seconds, then back to bright red. "One. Thank you Mistress." "Two, thank you Mistress." "Three. Forgive me for committing adultery." "Four. Please may I have some more?" And so on. "Twelve. Owwww." "Thirteen. Oh, Jesus." "Fourteen. I can't take much more." "Fifteen, please stop." "Red." I froze, as she stood up, taking the spatula from my hand. Tears were running down her cheeks. "I'm sorry. I was told to improvise," I muttered. "Not that much. I just need a breather. Stand up and stick out your bum." The girl whacked my arse. Hard. "Fucking hell, that hurts," I gasped. My pussy twitched. "You're wearing shorts, and haven't been burned to a crisp." "Sorry. Do it again." Toy yanked down my shorts, and paddled my bare bottom. I howled. By the time Ben reached the kitchen, Toy had lifted me onto the kitchen table, and had her bald head buried between my thighs. Ben grinned as I came, and his cock sprang to life. Toy effortlessly slid her whole left hand into my red hot box, whilst sucking my clit so hard, it felt like it would snap off. She barely grunted as Ben entered her from behind. He was looking really pleased. "I reckon I've got nine inches inside her. She's really very stretchy. Do you reckon she'll shit on me again? Lean forward and have a look." I was slightly appalled at how stretched was the girl's perineum. Then Ben withdrew and placed the head of his slick cock against her tiny pink starfish. He pressed, and her sphincter opened like a flower. The huge, bendy meat pipe slid in inexorably, inch by, presumably painful, inch. Toy reared up, arching her back. "Sorry, Mistress. God that hurts. Please don't split me Master." Toy took Ben's full twelve inches in a single slow thrust. I was gobsmacked. He was like a pig in shite, if you'll excuse the pun. "God, this little whore could teach you a thing, or two, girl. I am going to do some serious fudge packing." I bit my tongue, and watched in morbid fascination, as Ben withdrew his cock, until his bulbous glans penis started to further stretch her ring, again, then thrust forward, like a mighty black piston. The skin, around Toy's anus, was about the only remaining white skin on her body, and the contrast between white and black just turned me on again. And she was crying. I shamelessly grabbed her by her little ears, and rammed my pelvis into her face, rubbing my abundant cunt sap all over her burnt skin. I came just before him. Toy dutifully licked Ben's organ clean. Toy's anus remained dilated for several minutes and a thin stream of sperm dripped out. The girl draped herself, unbidden, across the table, and I spanked her for her infidelity; six blows with an open hand. Ben saw fit to remind me. "There's no point in jealousy. You know the rules." And he was right. Part of the game was for me to allow Ben to fuck this girl remorselessly. Unsurprisingly, my being pleasured, just turned him on more. We were under instructions to let Toy rest, periodically. She had a little mattress, at the foot of the bed, in the master bedroom. There she was sent, with instructions to come down at 6pm, to start dinner. We were under instructions not to interfere with her, whilst she was cooking. Given that Toy was naked, and badly sunburnt, this made some sense. I was unsurprised when Toy served up an excellent paella, washed down with more of Jose's rustic wine. Toy knelt, on the floor, between us, sitting on her feet. Ben fed her prawns, making her beg like a dog. I finally snapped, and made her sit at the table, and eat like a human. Then fruit, then cheese. Then coffee and cigars. Ben pushed one cigar into Toy's vagina, and one into her anal canal. "Bill Clinton!" he roared, and did his impression. Which was not bad, to be fair. The tobacco clearly burned, and Toy was soon begging him to take them out. They were too damp to light. But Ben was stiff again. My turn. I pushed Toy aside and straddled Ben, cowgirl. I rode him like something possessed, and came hard, just as he did. Maybe Toy was improving our love life. I felt like I was on heat, and Ben seemed to sprout an almost permanent erection. I had, on instruction, from the Puppeteer, left his Viagra , at home. Again trust had paid off. CHAPTER 9 Toy's pussy was permanently wet, and she was a most attentive slave. The next two days were a blur of almost continuous sex. Ben soon managed to get his full twelve inches into both entrances to her pelvis. Only her mouth could not quite accommodate his full girth. Toy's talented tongue seemed almost permanently attached to my labia and clitoris. That was when she was not fisting me. I took the opportunity to lick and finger Toy. She had a neat, small vulva. Half of it was burnt bright red, by the sun, and half was like alabaster. Toy smelt lovely. She had a tiny pearly clitoris and her vaginal opening seemed small and uninviting, but her small pelvis could accommodate Ben's cock, and my fist, just not at the same time. Yes we tried. Toy came noisily for me, her internal muscles squeezing my fingers like a slippery vice. Ben, being a lazy bastard, welcomed the opportunity to dispense with foreplay; merely thrusting a few times, into Toy's sopping quim, to give him enough lubrication, to ream her gorgeous arse. He finally tried anal penetration, without lubrication. Toy let out a huge scream and fainted, falling of the invading member. When she came round, I was allowed to inspect her arse. There was, what looked like, a large tear in her ringpiece. It was not bleeding that heavily, but she yelped when I rubbed in antiseptic cream. Ben looked sheepish. Monday evening, we had visitors. Jose and a vacuous looking blonde, in high heels and a micro dress. "This is Ivana, my girlfriend. She does some work for me too." "Your alibi?" I asked. "Oh no, that was my wife. Ivana is an illegal, and does not want to go to an African brothel. Looks like you have been having fun, with the redhead. My African buyers won't want her that colour though. No matter, I have somewhere to keep her for a few weeks." "We were thinking of keeping her ourselves, "said Ben. "She is very obedient now. Toy. Show Mr Jose what you've learnt. Toy went and sat on Jose's lap, and started to undo his shirt. "Mmm, very nice, but I don't like an audience." Jose took Toy, and Ivana, by the hands, and disappeared upstairs. The house had thick walls. They returned thirty minutes later. The Russian blonde looked anxious. "Oh she's good;"announced Jose. "I might just keep her, myself." Toy cooked us another excellent meal. Jose ignored her, and the blonde giggled, as Toy slipped below the table and sucked Ben off, as we were having dessert. CHAPTER 10 Tuesday morning, I awoke early desperate to do a pee. I nearly tripped over Toy, as I stumbled to the en-suite bathroom. "Does Mistress wish to use my whore's mouth as her latrine?" "No, Toy. Go back to bed." Pissing in the girl's mouth, once, had been exciting. Any more was demeaning, for both of us. Ben had been making her drink his urine for the last two days, and was keen to give her a piss enema. Fortunately, neither of us really knew what this was. Ben had just read about it on Literotica. My pee turned into a poo, too. As I flushed, and stood up, there was an almighty flash and roar from the bedroom. The light came on, and I staggered in. Ben was still, and the sheets were covered in blood. Toy was facing me, legs slightly spread, holding the revolver, double handed. Pointed straight at my head. Shit; the fucking gun. Her face was blank, as she squeezed the trigger. Flash. Bang. Everything went dark, as I fainted. I came round with a pain in my shoulder, where I had fallen. Izzie was smiling at me. "Hi, Pen." she chirped, "Hard floor." "You crazy, chav tart. I would have shat myself; if I hadn't just been." Izzie had broken the gun open, and was showing Ben, who had risen, Lazarus like. "It's a genuine .357 magnum, converted to fire .38 blanks. The ports on the barrel release all the gas. It's pretty harmless unless you stick it in someone's mouth." "Or another orifice." "Who would want to do that?" Izzie asked innocently. Now came the hard bit. Bringing Izzie down. And me, for that matter. She insisted on a strict ritual. CHAPTER 11 Firstly I took Izzie into the shower and gently washed her all over. Then she knelt on the bed, on a large towel, with her legs spread to almost 180 degrees. We stood and watched. I could stare at Izzie's knees for hours. They were starting to peel, as was her pubic mound. The skin underneath was a slightly healthier pink. Izzie's adductor tendons framed her little blonde twat. She leaned back and, with her left hand, started to masturbate. Slowly she rubbed her gorgeous labia and tiny clit. She fixed me with her eyes, and the little yellow flecks burned with lust. Izzie started to pant, and put two fingers of her right hand inside her slick snatch. I knew that her pussy would have returned to being as tight as a virgin's .Faster and faster, she finger fucked herself, until she gasped. Burnt Ginger "Oh God, oh God, yes." Now, you might consider that watching a wildly beautiful woman wanking, would be a welcome way to waste half an hour. It was an exquisite torture, as both Ben, and I, had to stand, silently, legs apart, hands behind our backs, and just gawp. I had to stand on a towel, as love juice was cascading down the inside of both my thighs,then behind my knees, and down the back of my calves. I was at risk of dehydration. Ben's cock looked like an overstuffed black pudding, and he was at risk of fainting, as half his circulating blood volume was sitting in his turgid tool. Izzie's head flew back and her back arched. Her great thigh muscles contracted and her pelvis lifted off the bed. Then, she gasped, and a jet of turbid liquid shot out of her vulva,in an arc, as she ejaculated; another one of her particular talents. Izzie withdrew her two fingers, and spread them, the mucus glistening; then put both fingers in her mouth. I barely dared breathe. Ben, was breathing hard. Izzie grabbed his cock, and made him sit on the bed. My cunt sap was simply flooding. Izzie knelt, and enveloped Ben's tumescent organ with her thin lips. Ben groaned as six inches slid in. Then Izzie stood up, her legs straight, her body bent severely at the hips, and her head bent back, at an impossible angle. The whole of Ben's penis disappeared into her mouth. This was beyond deep throat; the head of his cock was in her gullet. He groaned in pleasure. Izzie was strict. We were not allowed to touch her. She held a testicle, firmly in one hand, just in case Ben forgot. Then she slid up his shaft, and down again, breathing through her nose as she went. I stepped forward, and Izzie's left index finger penetrated my dripping cunt. I almost came. Quickly the digit was withdrawn, leaving me achingly empty, and thrust up Ben's arse. I knew that Izzie would be massaging his prostate gland; hard. Within a minute Ben sighed, and dumped his huge load of jism directly down Izzie's oesophagus. As kids, Izzie had shown me how she could suppress her gag reflex. She joked that her family were sword swallowers. It was only when we were a bit older, that she revealed the terrible truth of how she had really learned to perform her "little tricks", which included being able to totally relax her pelvic floor muscles, and anal sphincter. And to convincingly fake an orgasm. I suspect that was why she joined the police. I think that I am the only one who knows the full story. That is just one of the reasons that I love her. The whole BDSM scene was a form of catharsis for Izzie. Or maybe a form of self harm. Ben was sent to make tea. Izzie laid flat on the bed, and I lowered my pussy on to her face. I was Penny Grey again, and my best friend, Isabel McMahon, thrust her tongue up my sodden vagina, and brought me, instantly, to a shuddering orgasm. I dismounted, and she kissed me, letting me taste my cum, on her lips. It was a quick kiss; then Izzie was back in the shower. She emerged wrapped in a towel and trotted off, to the spare bedroom. "See you downstairs. Toast and Marmite, please." CHAPTER 12 Izzie walked into the kitchen dressed in a baggy T shirt and tight red cycling shorts .She looked like an alien, off the original series of Star Trek; bright red skin, pale fuzz on her head, white feet, and white rings around her ankles and wrists. When she blinked, her pale eyelids flashed, like a baboon. I was going to have to work hard, to get her through immigration. Gone was the rampant sex slave, and back was the slightly prim, and proper, policewoman. "Pen, Ben, you acted perfectly, as always." Ben bowed, graciously. "You, dear Isabel, are a better actress than my dearest Penelope. Your talents are wasted fighting crime." I was furious. I knew the rules, which were: Trust is everything. The Puppeteer knows what she is doing. Do as The Puppeteer says. Do not deviate. What happens in the game, stays in the game. Izzie is, of course, The Puppeteer. "You crazy, ginger bitch. We could have killed you. The car!" "Jose is a stunt driver. We practiced. Fake blood. I think I have cracked a rib, though." "The sunburn and sun stoke. You're probably going to get skin cancer" "Mea culpa. As you know I never lie out in the sun. I miscalculated, a bit... well a lot. Thirty minutes would have been enough. I had to know if I could take the pain." "How is it?" "Awful; I've barely slept. I'm dying for some painkillers." "The taser. Fake presumably?" "No, that was real. I've been tasered, in training. Twice. It's over rated." "And your hair Izzie. Shit, darling." "It's growing back already." "Yeah, but it won't be back to normal in time for your wedding." Her face seemed to fall apart. "Oh no, baby, what happened?" I held Izzie tight, as she sobbed. Izzie never cried. She had found her fiancé, David, in bed with her own, pneumatic, sister. Izzie broke his jaw. To those readers who might consider Izzie's own sexual conduct dubious, I would say this. On the day Izzie got engaged, she declared herself monogamous for life, and I knew that she had remained so, unlike her fiancé. I really should have told her. Even Ben chipped in. He always had a little trouble separating acting, from reality, and had slipped into the voice of God. "Isabel," he boomed, "this game was extreme; even by your standards. You need to find a better way to fight your demons. Yes, my child, that means therapy. I will pay of course." Izzie just nodded mutely. Breakfast done, we sat on the verranda chatting idly, before it was time to go to the airport. I redressed Izzie, in a demure summer dress, and did a reasonable make up job. Our ride duly appeared; Jose no less. Minus the leggy Russian, who is in fact a Hungarian porn star. CHAPTER 13 Last week I made the fateful call. What is good for the gander, is surely good for the goose. "Hi, Iz, it's me. What are you doing Thursday? Nothing? Good. We're going out for dinner. No. Just you and me. Yes, on a date. I don't give a shit what Ben wants. It's you that I want. I should have done this ages ago." Maybe I will tell you what happens.