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Who's The Boss: He's the Boss Part 3 - Preparations (M/FFFff,M/f,mc,int,preg)
by Pred

And the seed of THE BLACK MAN
Shall be known among the Gentiles,
And their offspring among the people:
All that see them will acknowledge them,
That they are the seed which the LORD YAWEH AFRIKA hath blessed.

I will greatly rejoice in the LORD YAWEH AFRIKA,
My soul shall be joyful in my God;
For he hath clothed me with the garments of salvation,
He hath covered me with the robe of righteousness,
As a bridegroom decketh himself with ornaments,
And as a bride adorneth herself with jewels.
(Isaiah 61:9-10, The Holy Bible of Yahweh Afrika)

"And this Katherine DeGuerrier's is the finest bridal boutique in the city?"
Elijah asked his soon-to-be bond-women as he turned his Mercedes onto the
main road Angela Bower had indicated.

"Yes, Master," Angela gushed, her heart all a-flutter at the thought of
wearing a Katherine DeGuerrier original gown for her Black Lord.

"I said I don't want to go there," Sam protested for the tenth time. "Please
let's go somewhere else. Please!"

"Silence," Elijah barked. "I have had enough of your foolish whining, white
cunt. You will learn to speak only when I give you my leave."

"What is wrong with you, Samantha?" Angela asked again. "You know Katherine
DeGuerrier gowns are positively to die for."

"Please, Angela," she moaned softly, thinking that might anger Elijah less.
"Anywhere but there. Please."

"We will go there precisely because you beg me not to," Elijah snapped at the
dark-haired teen beauty.

"It's right up there," Angela pointed to the sign out front, and felt her
heart turning cartwheels as Elijah turned into the exclusive shop's small
parking lot.

"I can't go in there," Sam whined as the car stopped and Elijah turned off
the ignition. "I won't. You can't make me."

"Very well," Elijah nodded. "We will stop by the police station and file the
report concerning your father's sexual abuse when we leave here."

"Why are you doing this to us?" Sam bawled. "Why can't you just leave me and
my father alone."

"The Order must be Restored," Elijah's voice was gravely serious. "You must
learn to Serve and Obey. Your father must learn his place. That is the way
things must be. You will understand soon enough. Trust me."

"Please don't make me go in," Sam sobbed. "I... I can't face... I can't."

Angela looked into the window of the shop and spotted a familiar face working
behind the front counter. Then she understood. "You never told me Marci
worked here," Angela stroked Sam's hair playfully. "Is that why you don't
want to go in? Because Marci will see you?"

"Please, Angela..." Sam sobbed. "Marci's aunt is Katherine DeGuerrier. She
owns the shop. Marci works there on weekends. She'll see us. Please don't
make me go inside."

"This Marci is your friend I take it," Elijah spied the beautiful, blond
14-year-old through the window and smiled. This Marci was the perfect
Nordic specimen - her blond hair and blue eyes sparkling above a pampered,
lily-white suburban innocence that pleaded to be released from its bondage
and sample true, animal passion. "And you are ashamed to be seen with me,
am I correct Samantha Micelli," Elijah went on. "Humiliated," he added as
an afterthought, nodding his head omnisciently.

"I remember your mother," Elijah continued after a long, pregnant pause.
"She was much the same way as you at the beginning... before I turned her."
He nodded and smiled at the memory, then focused his attention back to the
recalcitrant teen. "Very well, then, Samantha. I imagine the thought of
this encounter with your friend Marci is an infinitely more humiliating
prospect to you than the publication of photographs depicting your mother
relishing the collective attentions of 40, magnificently endowed Black Men."
He paused and chuckled to himself, silently reliving the memory of Marie
Micelli's utter debasement. "That is your choice, of course, Samantha
Micelli. Although I see no reason, then, why I should not release the whole
Marie Micelli video series, too."

"V..videos?" Sam squeaked, barely able to form the words with her quivering
lips.

"How farsighted I was to film all those encounters years ago, and then
transfer those films to video," Elijah congratulated himself. "Owning all
the rights to these home movies, I stand to make quite a sum of money for
Yaweh Afrika's Cause when the videos are distributed commercially in every
Adult Bookstore and magazine nationwide. Perhaps it is better this way. You
are just another white cunt that I shall eventually possess anyway. In the
meantime, I shall reap handsomely from the humiliation of you and your
father." He opened the door and stepped out onto the parking lot.

Angela patted Sam on the forehead and gave her a pitiful look. "Why do you
have to make this so hard, Samantha?" She turned and slid out the backseat,
wrapping herself about Elijah's waist like cock-whipped white whore. Sam
looked at them walk towards the front door of the boutique. She closed her
eyes and tried to fight back the tears. Images of the photograph with her
mother and Elijah seared across her mind's eye, and she couldn't help but
envision it emblazoned across the cover of a dirty magazine, or screaming out
from the front of an X-rated video box. "Oh, mom..." she cried to herself
as she burst out the back of the Mercedes and sprinted through the doors
behind Elijah and Angela.

Marci had already spotted Angela as the platinum blond clung to the huge
Black Adonis like a lovesick teenager. When Marci saw Sam, her jaw dropped
even farther. "Uh... Sam... Mrs. Bower... I... What?"

"My two white bitches are looking for wedding dresses," Elijah took over the
proceedings now, his voice cutting through Marci's abject confusion and
reducing her to silence. "They will be marrying me tonight in a ceremony
being held at the Micelli household. I trust you will be there." He gazed
into Marci's eyes, and she shivered.

"Sam, what is going on?" Marci squeaked. "Is this some kind of joke?"

"It's no joke, Marci," Angela answered for Samantha. "We're helping to
Restore the Natural Order - white women serving as sex-slaves and cum buckets
for huge Black Gods. We need two wedding dresses immediately. I want to
look good for my Black Master before he savages me." Angela squeezed
Elijah's huge arms, then seized his bulging crotch with her pale white
fingers. She noticed Marci's stupefied, awed expression and laughed.
"That's all right. You can come over here and feel Elijah's cock. He won't
mind." She smiled up at the black behemoth. "Will you, Master."

"You are a beautiful white cunt," Elijah sneered at Marci, admiring close-up
now the fresh, fit teenage body wrapped up inside a smart, sensible black
turtleneck and plaid skirt. "Such perfect blond hair and blue eyes. I claim
you as my bond-woman as well. You will be a white-cunt cum dumpster for my
thick black seed." Elijah reached out his mammoth black hands and delicately
stroked the wisp of blond hair that fluttered across Marci's stupefied
expression. "I will breed you, and your babies will serve the Cause as well.
Come here, white cunt, and meet your future life." He took her hand gently
and moved it decisively towards the ungodly bulge that pulsed and lurked
beneath his robes.

"Get the hell away from me," Marci tore her hand from his grip and backed
away. Her whole body quaked with confusion, terror and... and something
else, something that felt like... overwhelming curiosity.

The scene up front had caught the attention of Marci's two co-workers
stationed in back. In a rush, they now approached the counter, but stopped
dead in their tracks when they came under the awe-inspiring gravity of
Elijah's immense presence.

"I.. Is everything all right here?" the first woman choked out the words.
She was an attractive redhead in her late twenties or early thirties, short
in stature, with pale, freckled skin, bluish green eyes and a captivating
mole located in the ridge between her slightly up-turned nose and pouting,
rose-petal lips. Her breasts were succulent, her cleavage mesmerizing, her
pendulous orbs practically spilling out from the plunging neckline of her
white sweater-blouse. Her legs, adorned in white hose and partially covered
by a tight navy-blue skirt, were inviting charms as well. Tapered and sleek,
they sliced up to the cheeks of her toned tush, her whole lower package
accentuated by a pair of midnight-blue pumps.

"My white bitches will be needing two wedding gowns," Elijah drank in this
new bitch's absolute fitness for breeding, restating his purpose with a
natural air of authority. "I am to marry these two white cunts tonight and
make them cum dumpsters for my black seed. Prepare their dresses for them,
and I will reward you handsomely."

"You are absolutely godlike," the other woman now spoke up, her husky,
throaty voice pushing past the redhead's confused stupor. In seconds, this
second woman was basking fully in the glorious presence of Elijah Boanerge.
"I'm the owner here, Katherine DeGuerrier," she extended her hand and
shuddered as her small pale fingers became engulfed in the omnipotence of
Elijah's massive black hand.

Katherine DeGuerrier looked to be in her mid-fifties, somewhere between the
ages of Angela and her mother, Mona. Her hair was dark-brown and pulled
back in a conservative bun. Her face, which must have been devastatingly
attractive in her youth, was slightly more rounded now, her cheeks and neck
beset with the inevitable ravages of her advancing years. She was still an
attractive woman, though, despite her advancing years, and her firm, plump
body indicated she both ate and exercised well. She was dressed more
casually than either Marci or the redhead, wearing a maroon button-down
blouse, black slacks, black pumps, and a strand of pearls about her neck.
Katherine DeGuerrier reeked of wealth, old money as it were, and by the
touch of her trembling submissive hand and the look in her lust-filled,
captivated eyes Elijah Boanerge could tell that she knew the Way, that she
had followed the Order in her own life... for quite some time.

"You are a bond-woman," he smiled gravely as the attractive, middle-aged
boutique owner practically groveled at his touch.

"Yes," she announced proudly. "I serve my Black Master and all Black Men
with the meagerness of my white-cunt soul."

"This is too weird," Marci shook her head and moved to the door. "I am out
of here."

"This God did not give you permission to leave," Katherine snapped, grabbing
Marci's arm.

"Katherine, what is going on here?" the redhead began backing away, too, now.

"The Order is being restored... slowly," Katherine smiled. "You will stay
right there, Gillian," she ordered the redhead, "or I will report the $100
you embezzled from the cash drawer to the police."

"What $100?" Gillian squeaked, absolutely mortified now.

"The $100 I saw you take," Angela Bower chimed in, quickly picking up on
Katherine's scheme. "You didn't ring up my sale. You just slipped the money
in your pocket. I'll testify to that in a court of law."

"How unfortunate for you, Gillian, that... this woman..." Katherine looked
at Angela, suddenly realizing she did not know her new ally's name.

"Angela," Angela smiled at her sister in bondage. "Angela Bower."

"How unfortunate that Ms. Bower reported you to me, Gillian," Katherine
continued. "I do thank you, Angela. This woman has probably been robbing me
blind all these months.

"You just can't get good help these days," Angela commiserated with her
fellow independent businesswoman.

"Sam, do something?" Marci pleaded to her friend. "What the hell is Mrs.
Bower doing? Make her stop."

"I... I can't, Marci, I'm sorry," Sam hung her head in shame.

"Samantha and Angela are under my Hand now, white cunt," Elijah explained
calmly to the almost hysterical Marci. "They do my bidding - whenever and
whatever I may desire. And at this very moment, I desire to see them fitted
for their gowns." He turned to Angela and Sam. "You will strip now, in the
center of this store, for all to see, and put your white-cunt bodies on
display for me."

"Right here?" Sam exploded. "In the middle of the store? What if
someone...?"

"NOW!" Elijah barked.

"Come on, Sam," Angela scolded the dark-eyed teenage beauty. "You're just
being a silly white cunt. Now let's get you naked." She tugged at the
zipper of Sam's sweatshirt and pulled it down.

The ravishing teen tore away from her father's employer, but not quickly
enough. Her breasts bobbled free from inside the sweatshirt, jiggling
slightly in the cool air-conditioning but restrained snugly in a white, lacy
bra. Sam slapped her arms over her budding breasts to hide them from the
roomful of eyes, but Angela pulled them away, revealing the teenager's
terrified, heaving chest and soft, flat alabaster tummy for all to see.

"Don't squirm, Sam," Angela snapped as she wrestled the sweatshirt off the
struggling teen. "Katherine, I could use a hand here," she called as she
tossed aside Sam's sweatshirt.

"Certainly, Angela," the older woman moved in now, groping at Sam's naked
torso and mauling her budding breasts, trying to rest them free of the tight
frilly bra.

"No!" Elijah commanded after letting the white bitches struggle for several
delicious moments. "My bond-maiden will obey my commands willingly. Stand
back from her," he snapped at the two older white cunts. "This decision will
be yours Samantha Micelli. You know what the consequences shall be if you do
not submit to the Natural Order."

Samantha stood there in the middle of the boutique, her half-naked body
shivering amid the blizzard of her humiliation. She turned to Angela, then
to Marci, to Gillian, to Katherine, and then Elijah. She found neither mercy
nor deliverance in any set of eyes. She bit her lip and closed her eyes, her
hands moving to the hooks in back of her bra.

"You will open your eyes, white cunt," Elijah commanded. "You will look at
me as I gaze upon your virgin white flesh."

"Y.. yes..." Sam murmured, opening her eyes and finding Elijah's piercing
gaze. Pop! The first hook came undone. Pop! The second followed.

"Sam... no..." Marci's choked whisper cut through the silence.

Sam ignored her and worked the rest of the bra from her 14-year-old chest,
letting the lacy cups and straps fall to the floor. When her bare tit flesh
hit the cool air conditioning, Sam felt her highly responsive nipples jut out
acutely from her puffy aureoles. "God...no... please..." she gasped to
herself, cursing her young flesh for betraying her shameful arousal.

"I am pleased," Elijah smirked. "You will breed well, white cunt." He
turned to Angela. "Now you will display your white breasts for me, Angela
Bower."

"I thought you'd never ask," Angela quipped joyfully, slinking out of her
sweatshirt and bra in one fluid motion. Her tits - more developed and mature
than young Samantha's -- sloped and sagged slightly without her bra to
support them. They were not impressive in size, but the kernels of her pink
nipples poked out from her pale tit flesh like sore thumbs. Her stomach was
slightly scored with stretch marks from the birth of her son, and she, too,
shivered in the cool air conditioning. She looked to Elijah for approval,
but he only curled his lips into a sneer.

"You are far past your prime, white cunt," he looked annoyed. "If we are to
breed you, it will need to be done quickly. In a short time, you will serve
no other purpose than to be a dried-up old cum toilet for excess Black
Seed... like your mother," he added, "..and this saggy white cunt." He
pointed to Katherine, who - in true white cunt fashion -- smiled proudly at
his insult. "You and this one," he gestured to both Marci and the clerk,
Gillian, now. "You will remove their shoes and socks and help them off with
their jeans. Then we shall see all their whorish white charms." The blonde
teen and the pretty redhead hesitated.

"Do it," Katherine snapped. "NOW!"

Sobbing softly, Gillian sank down to her knees before Angela and began
untying the platinum blonde's shoes. A second later, Marci followed suit,
not knowing what else she could do or how she could possibly resist the huge
Black God who had suddenly assumed total authority over her life.

"You will measure them for a fitting," Elijah commanded Katherine, and the
older woman hurried in back to get the materials she would need for this
task. He turned back to Angela and Sam. "Display your white tits for me,
cunts," he snapped. "Cup them in your hands and invite me to inspect them."
He drew closer to them now, the feel of his hot breath on Sam's bare flesh
making the hairs lining her arms and legs stand on end.

Sam scooped up her budding flesh globes, just as Elijah commanded, and cupped
them in her outstretched hands, as if she were proffering two prize apples
for his inspection. Despite her shame and apprehension, her teenage nipples
reacted even more stubbornly to the stimulus of her humiliation. To her
utter horror, they grew longer as he leered at her -- harder, even more
inflamed. To make matters even more confounding, Sam also found herself
contending with the added stimulus of Marci's tremulous touch.

Sam tried not to stare down at her blonde friend, but she could not help
sneaking repeated peeks. Her sensitive teenage pussy had a mind of its own,
pulsing with geysers of passion juice at the every touch of Marci's busy
hands as the blonde teen worked off Sam's shoes and socks. "Ohhh," Sam let
loose an involuntary groan as Marci worked off her socks and her bare toes
tickled against the carpet.

Thrust into this unbelievable, absurd situation, completely at the mercy of
the Black God Elijah Boanerge, Sam could no longer deny the emotions she had
been bottling up for the last years two years. In gym class, at slumber
parties, that day they were both washing her father's car and the soap ran
down the front of Marci's tight pink tee-shirt and foamed over her faded
cut-offs... "No!" Sam tried to shake the images from her mind, but to no
avail. The touch of Marci's anxious hands upon Sam's legs thrilled the
dark-eyed teen queen in ways she had tried to resist but now realized she
could neither fight nor deny.

Marci was so beautiful -- so blonde and beautiful -- and now that was she
kneeling submissively at Sam's feet, Marci was even more enticing, more
tempting. "No..." Sam wept to herself, "I'm not... I can't... oh, my God,
this is so sick. God, please, don't let me be a... dyke... Please... No..."

But the Lord was not answering Samantha Micelli's insincere prayers. The
more Sam resisted the feelings welling up inside her queasy tummy, the wetter
and more titillated she became. Marci's hands trailed up her legs to the
button atop her jeans. At the same moment Marci popped the button, Elijah's
huge hand squeezed Sam's succulent budding breasts and his coal black eyes
ripped through her soul. "OHH," Sam shuddered again, this time louder, her
voice resonating throughout her entire body, quaking inside her
butterfly-filled tummy.

Marci continued her task, oblivious to anything but her own terror. She
certainly had no idea of the psychic war raging in her friend's soul. All
that concerned her was obeying the orders of the terrifying Black Man who
loomed above her. Without giving a thought to Samantha, Marci attacked her
friend's jeans. She yanked down her Sam's zipper with quivering fingers,
carelessly brushing the top of her friend's passion mound when the zipper
reached its last tooth.

"Squeeze your white tits harder," Elijah hissed in Sam's face. "You will
make your pale flesh crimson." He withdrew his hands and slapped at her
exposed tit meat. The blow stung unlike anything Sam had ever experienced,
and she winced. "Squeeze them, white cunt!" he ordered a second time,
following his ultimatum with a second and then a third blow across her
puffy aureoles.

Sam's mind left the unresolved questions of her sexuality adrift and snapped
back into the harsh reality of the moment. Seeing no other alternative but
utter submission to Elijah's iron will, Sam complied with his sadistic
commands, wringing her tits between her hands until they swelled up into
crimson-tinged orbs. By now, Marci had worked Sam's jeans down to her knees,
and she was anxiously nudging Sam to lift her feet and step out of the denim
legs. Sam looked down at Marci's desperate, terrorized face and awkwardly
worked her feet through each leg opening. Long seconds later, Samantha
Micelli stood in the center of Katherine DeGuerrier's exclusive bridal
boutique, naked save only for her plain cotton panties.

Marci tried to back away then, obviously feeling she had accomplished her
chore. But Elijah was at her side once more, taking her by her blonde hair
and pressing her gasping cheeks against the bulge looming like a jungle beast
beneath his robes.

"Oh, shit..." Marci gasped when she realized what it was she felt rubbing
against the side of her pale white face. The Black Adonis's robes did not
conceal a softball, or a man's fist, but the engorged head of a... of a...
"Shit!" she squealed again, as Elijah dragged her cheek slowly down the
entire length of his Beast of Revelation. Mentally, the blonde-haired high
school beauty tried to gauge the leviathan's length in inches, counting
"1... 2... 3" to herself, then hyperventilating when she reached "10" with
no end in sight.

"Now do you see, Marci?" Katherine's voice tore Marci was from her silent
reverie.

"Y.. yes," Marci heard herself gasp. "Oh, God..." she buried her face
against Elijah's flowing robes, trying to be as close as possible to the
awesome, unearthly, Holy power she could now sense coiled millimeters from
her thirsty lips.

"You are hungry?" Elijah yanked Marci by the hair and pulled her face away
from his bulge.

"Y.. yes, M.. Master..." Marci didn't know where the words came from, but
they seemed so real to her, so right.

"Teenage white mouth on teenage white cunt," he pointed to Marci's mouth and
then to Samantha Micelli's stained white panties.

"No..." Marci squealed. She flashed a terrified glance at Sam, who neither
spoke, moved, nor demonstrated any reaction to Elijah's latest abomination.
"No..." she repeated, puzzled at Sam's frozen silence.

"Yes," Elijah snapped, his hand suddenly grasping Sam's plain cotton panties
at the waistband and tearing them into tatters with one violent tug.
"Teenage white mouth on teenage white cunt," he repeated, taking Marci by the
hair and mashing her face into Sam's drenched pussy.

Sam wanted to pull away, in a way she even tried, taking one step back, but
stopping in her tracks the instant she felt Marci's terrified, 14-year-old
lips graze the folds of her moist labia. "Oh, Marci..." her resistance
melted at the end of the blonde's terrified tongue. Daydream images, the
stuff of unspoken flights of fantasy took hold of Samantha Micelli's
conscience now. At long last, after two years of torture and denial, she
was finally admitting to herself what she had been wrestling with ever since
she'd met Marci.

Yes, Sam had always desired boys, like any healthy teenage girl, but she
had always been attracted to girls her age, too, especially the blonde and
beautiful Marci. Her friend's classic Nordic features provided a diametric
contrast to Sam's Mediterranean comeliness. Maybe this was what Sam had
always felt, that she and Marci fit together naturally somehow, like mirror
images or interlocking pieces in a carnal jigsaw puzzle.

"Teenage white mouth on teenage white cunt," Elijah repeated the mantra.

Marci tried to jerk her head back, but the Black God was too omnipotent,
bouncing her head up and down on Sam's privates like a basketball. As her
mouth and nose smashed against her friend's soft furry slit, Marci tried to
hold her breathe, steeling herself against the smell and taste of femaleness
she believed would make her retch in revulsion. The expected gagging never
happened, however.

Instead, left with no alternative but to finally inhale the aroma of her
friend's virgin pussy or pass out, Marci was shocked to find that the taste
and aroma was nowhere near as revolting as her ignorance and fears had
convinced her it would be. She was surprised to find she experienced no
nausea whatsoever as Samantha Micelli's girlish essence wafted into her
senses. In fact, she found the flavor somewhat curious, if not intoxicating.

"No..." she gulped in terror at this realization, an epiphany she had
struggled to keep repressed ever since those first vague, fuzzy images had
played across her daydreams and nightflights. Sam in that cheerleading
outfit... Sam hugging her and sobbing that night Todd had stood her up...
Sam in the shower after gym class, soaping her budding breasts and telling
Marci how she'd felt Corey Jameson's hard dick inside his jeans at the
movies...

Consumed with this emotional chaos, Marci didn't even realize Elijah had
drawn away his masterful hand. One moment, she was being forced to perform
oral sex on her friend's soft, moist 14-year-old slit, and the next she found
herself flying solo, savoring the effervescence of Samantha's virgin slit as
it seeped between her lips and down her tongue. Then it struck Marci, a
revelation as shocking and earth-shattering as her own admitted passion for
Samantha Micelli.

"She's wet, too..." Marci almost wept for jaw. "She's holding my mouth right
there. She's pressing my tongue into her clitoris. She's humping her pussy
against my face. She... she wants to, too."

"Very good, cunt," Elijah petted the back of Marci's hair as she eagerly
buried her face deeper into Sam's snatch.

Feeling Marci's tongue enthusiastically strafe her tender, teenage privates,
Samantha Micelli gave up all notions of fighting the passion that flooded out
from the moist core of her teenage soul. It all made sense to her now --
Elijah, Angela, her own dark passions - everything. She grabbed a hank of
Marci's hair and directed the blonde's ravenous mouth forcefully to the hot
spots along her teenage twat. She heard growling, like the noises of dogs
wrestling over a bone. Then, to her utter amazement, she pinpointed the
sounds and realized from where they were emanating.

Unconsciously and instinctively, both she and Marci had begun issuing
guttural, throaty encouragements to one another. "Oh, Marci," Sam grunted.
"That ... feels... so...FUCKING good. Eat it, you bitch. Eat my fucking
cunt!"

"Jam that hot pussy in my face, Sam," Marci responded. "Hump my face with
that hot little cunt of yours, slut..."

Elijah now turned his attention to Angela and the clerk named Gillian.
Angela was naked now, too, and rubbing her pussy as she watched beautiful,
bubbly, blonde Marci slide her tongue between Sam's tender pink pussy lips
and short black pubes. The redheaded clerk did not seem so enthusiastic
about the passion play being staged on the sales floor of the exclusive
boutique.

Gillian had done what Elijah commanded, assisting Angela with her disrobing.
Once that had been completed, however, the thirtyish beauty had slunk off to
the sidelines, eyeing the door, and waiting for an opportune moment to
escape. A look of abject terror blanched her face when her eyes met the
black giant's steely gaze. In a split second, he pounced upon her like a
jungle beast.

Helpless to resist Elijah's ruthless, superhuman strength, Gillian could only
squeal pitifully when the Black Adonis grabbed her by the hair and dragged
her back into the action. The carpet burned her knees and palms as she was
pulled along the floor like a disobedient dog. With his free hand, Elijah
whipped up Marci's plaid skirt and exposed her firm teenage ass and plain
cotton panties. Gillian could not help but notice the crotch area was dark
with moisture, the damp stain running all the way up the crack of the teen's
ass.

"Pale white mouth on blond pussy!" Elijah hissed in her ear, pressing the
redhead's squealing lips against Marci's soaked panty-crotch.

Gillian tried to pull her face away. The very thought of going down on a
woman's pussy... not to mention a teenage girl's pussy... revolted her. She
was no lesbian, and she certainly wouldn't allow herself to be party to the
sexual violation of a girl who was no more than 14-years-old. No matter what
it may look like now, what the black monster was doing to these two teens was
rape, plain and simple, and Gillian refused to participate.

"Go to hell," Gillian spit defiantly into Marci's wet crotch. Finally, the
gorgeous redhead was finding the strength to resist the black giant, if only
verbally. "When I get out of here, I'm calling the cops... on all of you!"
she bawled to the black beast, her employer, and the woman named Angela
Bower. Elijah and the two women just laughed as the black behemoth's
dominating hands smashed Gillian's feeble protests into the crack of Marci's
firm, 14-year-old ass. "You can't do this to me," she wept in utter
futility, feeling the blonde teenager wriggle her ass back to meet Gillian's
frantic mouth. "I don't care what you threaten me with."

"White cunt!" Elijah snarled. He jerked her face around by her hair so that
she was facing his awesome black rage. "It is time you faced the TRUTH," he
spat in her sobbing eyes. He lifted his robes, and she flinched, pulling
against the sharp stinging pain that tore along her scalp as he yanked her
face to his body.

"No..." she heard herself whimper pathetically before he eyes became
submerged in utter darkness.

Elijah Boanerges had forced her screaming face beneath the folds of the
exotic robes, revealing to her sacred Secret, allowing her a face-to-face
auduence with the Holy of Holies. In a second, the redheaded clerk's
screaming stopped abruptly, and her whole body went limp. Then, after a
pregnant pause of absolute silence, everyone inside the shop listened as
a muffled voice whispered, "Oh, my fucking God," before it broke down into
a throaty, subdued sob. "I... I had no idea..."

Gillian's thoroughly cowed whimpering elicited a knowing smile from Katherine
DeGuerrier. "Thank you for showing another white cunt the TRUTH," she bowed
to Elijah.

"Will you eat the blonde cunt's pussy now, redheaded cunt?" Elijah sneered
at the formerly defiant Gillian, only barely acknowledging Katherine's
obsequiousness. As a Supreme Black Prince, this was all he was required to
do.

"Yes... please... let me..." Gillian mewled, her shivering voice muffled
beneath Elijah's robes. "Let me do whatever pleases you, Master."

Elijah nodded, let her stare into the face of God a moment longer, before
tearing her away from her Communion with the Almighty and returning her
glassy eyes to the fluorescent light of day. He pointed to Marci's damp
crotch, and this time Gillian thrust her face into the blonde teen's snatch
without hesitation.

She tore at Marci's cotton panties with her teeth, reducing them to shreds
as she attacked the girl's slick slot with the ravenous hunger of a lioness.
"Fuck yeah!" Marci grunted, mashing her own crotch back into Gillian's eager
mouth.

"That's it, bitch," Sam snarled. "Eat her hot pussy."

"That is so beautiful," Angela gushed, working her own clit at a feverish
pitch. "You are so kind and benevolent to introduce them to the pleasures
of white cunt eating."

"I do so solely because it amuses me," Elijah responded. "It is not kindness
at all. You and they are merely my white cunt fuck toys, to play with as I
see fit.

"Yes, Master," Angela nodded demurely, happy to have been reprimanded. She
could be such a stupid white cunt at times. And like all white cunts, she
needed a Black Master to keep disciplined and in line.

"It would pleasure me to see you join them," Elijah smirked. "Samantha
Micelli," he turned his attention back to the dark-haired, teen beauty. "You
will lie on your back. NOW!" he snapped.

Sam crumbled to the floor as Marci kept chowing down.

"You will mount her mouth with your face turned away from me and pointing to
the door," Elijah commanded Angela. "You must not turn around," he added.
"No matter what you may hear."

"Yes, Master," Angela obeyed. She walked over to Samantha's moaning face and
squatted her platinum blonde pussy over the teenager's growling mouth.

"Teenage pink lips on old white cunt," Elijah barked at Sam. He watched with
mirthful satisfaction as the now thoroughly debauched young 14-year-old
complied without a moment's hesitation, sinking her inexperienced mouth into
Angela Bower's pussy, striving with all her soul to please her Master's every
him. "How does she eat white cunt?" Elijah asked Angela after reveling in
the sites, sounds and smells of the pussy smorgasbord laid out before him.

"Not bad," Angela gasped, "for her first time. Right there, Sam," Angela
hissed, grinding her hips into the teen's greedy tongue when the 14-year-old
hit a particularly sensitive spot above the hood of Angela's clit. "Lick it
right there, you teenage white cunt!" Angela hoped Elijah enjoyed her
exhortation. "Make our Master proud," she panted, gyrating her hips in a
circle across Sam's enthusiastic flutter-tonguing. "Teenage pink lips on
old white cunt!" she mimicked Elijah's words, bucking against Sam's face so
hard she thought she might crush her cheeks between her thighs.

"Now you will complete the chain," Elijah swept his eyes over to Katherine
DeGuerrier. "Old hag white lips on fresh, red-haired cunt!" He whipped up
the hem of Gillian's navy blue skirt to reveal the tops of her alabaster
legs. Goose pimples had broken out across the meat of Gillian's toned
thighs, visible above the tops of her white stockings and red garter belt.
Straps ran up from the garter to a white bustier, which was now completely
visible beneath the folds of Gillian's hiked skirt and untucked blouse.

"You little white slut," Katherine spanked her employee's soft, ivory ass
cheeks, sadistically snapping the bands connecting her garter to the bustier.
"And just who were you dressed all sexy for, you little white cunt? Do you
always dress like a little white whore?" She continued spanking Gillian's
ass while her redheaded employee yipped in giggling bursts. "I will need to
teach you what being a white cunt whore is really all about."

Katherine slicked her fingers up with spit and then worked her one hand
into Gillian's lacy white panties while relentlessly smacking her clerk's
pink-tinged ass cheeks with the other. Katherine twisted her hand inside
Gillian's sopping snatch, smacking the redhead's ass and making her ride
the rough finger-fucking like the white slut she was.

"You will now bend over and arch your bag, white hag cunt," Elijah commanded
Katherine. "You will continue pleasuring the redheaded cunt, and you will
not turn around no mater what happens. Do you understand me? Disobedience
will be severely punished."

"Yes, Master," Katherine agreed quickly. "What are you going to do to your
old white-cunt slut?"

"Turn around and savage the redhead's pussy, white hag cunt," Elijah barked,
his huge hand smacking the back of Katherine's neck and jarring her head into
a slight daze. "You will not speak to me unless I give you my leave."

"Yes, Master," Katherine sighed dreamily. The highly-successful, fiftyish
designer had been serving Black Masters ever since she was in college. That
had been during the 1960s, the era of civil rights and Power to the People.
Her then-boyfriend, later her husband, Jean Luc DeGuerrier was a wealthy,
ex-patriate French graduate student studying law at Harvard. She had been
attending Radcliffe as an undergraduate art student. Together, they had
listened to the speeches of Dr. Martin Luther King Jr. and been consumed with
white liberal guilt over the discrimination suffered by Black Americans.

It had been Jean Luc's idea to join a radical student civil rights
organization centered at Boston University. There they met Clarence Lincoln
III, a Black Panther militant who put them and 20 other white couples through
a "sensitivity training" seminar focused on "educating" pampered lily-whites
to the TRUTH of the Black Power cause. By the end of the first session,
Linc, as Clarence was known, had 21 bratty white bitches sucking and riding
his 12-inch black manhood while their husbands and boyfriends watched and
even assisted in the savage couplings.

Jean Luc had been the last to accept Linc's supreme omnipotence as the white
couples' unquestioned Black Master. To finally break him, Linc had made
him stand before the assembly of white couples and Black Panther security
personnel and display his four-inch white penis in comparison to Linc's
massive fuck weapon. Linc even doused his inhuman tool in frigid ice water
before the "showdown" to shrivel it to its smallest length.

Jean Luc, on the other hand, was permitted to let Katherine suck and pump
his cock to its most extreme dimensions. Then the two men stood before the
assemblage side-by-side with Katherine on her knees before them. With a
cock in each hand, she displayed their respective attributes and rated their
manliness in the rawest, frankest terms.

Even at its most flaccid, Linc's gargantuan ebony phallus was a clear 2-3
inches longer than Jean Luc's shameful penis. Katherine had laughed at her
future husband, then, before everyone at the session, and while the French
worm squirmed and cried like a baby she took both dicks together in one hand.
She had wanted nothing more than to clearly demonstrate to Jean Luc and
everyone there the absurd contrast in size, circumference and heftiness
between Linc's fearsome, black fuck howitzer and Jean Luc's pale, pathetic
baby rattle. The images from that day would be ingrained into her brain and
Jean Luc's shattered ego to the present day.

Some thirty years later, Jean Luc still groveled beneath the stern discipline
of whichever Black Master Katherine DeGuerrier found her white cunt serving.
All Jean Luc' money went to financing the whims of the Black Gods who ruled
their lives. Right now, Jean Luc was shelling out over $50,000 a month to
support a trio of Black Masters who dominated the couple, shot pornographic
videos of their gangbanging sessions, and then invited other Black associates
over to share Katherine's over-the-hill body like a communal cum urinal.

The Black God who stood before her now, however, was the most unearthly
specimen of Black Perfection she had ever encountered... even in her fevered
daydreams. As a committed white-cunt slut she was helpless before the
demands of any Black Man who expressed a desire to use her old body as a
lily-white flesh toilet for his excess cum. She had prostrated herself
before Ebony Strangers, but in this instance she knew she was experiencing
something much more profound. The man before her was not just a Master, but
a Deity.

Thus she bent over as he ordained, plastering her face to her redheaded
employee's sopping snatch, and not even daring to look up when she heard the
rustle of his robes behind her... or felt the sensation of his huge paws
begin tearing off her slacks. Passively, she stuck out one leg and then the
next, allowing him to work her slacks down slowly as his massive black palms
mauled her pliant, age-sagged white skin. "Please," she prayed silently to
her Black God of Lust, "please let me feel your Sacred Scepter thrust deep
inside me."

Her bare thighs, cunt and ass shivered slightly when exposed to the air
conditioning. She heard the Black Giant's robes rustle further, then felt
what must have been his fist, or a softball, or a grapefruit begin teasing
the pouting lips of her aged pussy. She sighed, ready to endure whatever
punishment her master deemed fit. The large bulbous object continued teasing
her over-ripe cunt to a sloppy wetness, while the giants two hands cupped her
sagging tits and squeezed them hard.

TWO HANDS! She inhaled sharply. If both his hands were molesting her
breasts, then how was he holding the softball or grapefruit or whatever the
round object was that he was pressing against her loose, yet still unyielding
cunt lips? How is he...? What is he...?

"OH SHIT!" she bellowed the second she realized what it was she actually felt
plunging ruthlessly between the folds of her stretched-out snatch. "OH MY
FUCKING GOOOOODDDD!" she hollered when the huge ball of fury at least gained
complete access to her age-ravaged twat. "OHHH CHRIST... OH JESUS CHRIST...
JEEEESUS FUCKING CHRIST!" she chattered like a madwoman as the Black God at
last managed to stuff a half-inch of his ebony fuck-pipe inside her
obliterated cock-slot.

Despite the fact she'd been subjected to repeated assaults by a relentless
army of black cocks averaging well over 11 inches per specimen, this God's
cunt bayonet made her forget every black prick that had ever been stuffed
up her eager old womb. Not since the birth of her baby daughter had her
pelvic region been overwhelmed by such an intense, merciless pressure and
stretching. But, even in that instance, the enormous object lodged below
her stomach had been headed out of body, the agony lessening with each inch
she dispatched.

Now, however, the foreign body splitting her like a wishbone was not being
evicted, but rather taking up residence. As she felt her Black God's Divine
Wrath breach another half-inch of her worthless old cunt flesh, she bit down
on her lips so hard that blood gushed out of the corners of her mouth. "Oh,
GOD Please..." she sputtered. "Please let me take all of it!"

"Fucking old, dried-up, white cunt slut!" Elijah spit onto Katherine's bare
white ass and smacked her so hard she almost passed out. "You will ride me,
white whore. You will take what your Black Master dishes out and beg me for
more. Do you hear me, you worthless cum trough? You will beg me for more!"

"MORE!" Katherine wailed. "I want to feel all of your huge black cock
inside me... FUCKING ME! Fuck your white-cunt whore, Master. Use me like
worthless, old dried-up cum dumpster I am."

"Oh, my God!" a woman's voice cut threw the grunting and groaning that had
now filled the shop. "Oh my God!" she repeated.

All the women daisy chained on the floor began to look up.

"Eyes to the floor!" Elijah commanded them. "Eat White Cunt!" he followed up
his orders, and each white cunt dutifully obeyed. He turned his eyes to the
woman who had just spoken.

She stood in the center of the shop before Angela Bower, her feet at Sam's
head. Next to her stood a man. They had been holding hands. As Elijah
withdrew from Katherine DeGuerrier's blasted cunt, the woman quickly dropped
the man's hands and covered her mouth. "Oh, my God..." she barely whispered,
swooning to her knees as Elijah stood up at his full 6 feet, 8 inches and
revealed to her the Glory of his Almighty Presence.

"What the hell is going on here..." the man started before his wife pulled
him down so he was kneeling beside her.

"Shit, honey, look at that..." The woman was young, in her mid-twenties and
blond. Her face was pretty, but not overwhelmingly gorgeous. She was the
girl-next-door type, her pleasant features accenting a fit, albeit tomboyish,
young body. She was dressed very casually, in jeans, a tight white tee-shirt
and a cardigan sweater.

"Helen, what has gotten into you?" the man began. He was slightly older than
Helen, in his mid-to-late thirties, short, with dark curly hair and a New
York Jewish attitude about his demeanor. He, too, was dressed in jeans, a
white tee-shirt, and a cardigan. They were obviously so "in love" they had
chosen to dress in matching outfits. Elijah sneered at their pathetic
whiteness, relishing the corruption and domination he was about to bring into
their lives.

"Shh, Paul, just look at that," Helen gushed. "Isn't that the most beautiful
thing you've ever seen. It's like looking straight into the Power of God."

"Helen..." Paul whined, his confused voice squeaking obnoxiously.

"God is Black," Elijah ignored the white worm's sniveling voice and smiled
down at his most recent, white-cunt convert. "This any white woman or man
can see when they are shown the TRUTH."

"Listen," Paul began, "we just came in here to buy a wedding dress. If this
is a bad time, we could just..."

"Silence, white worm," Elijah barked at the babbling, emasculated man. "Did
I give you permission to speak before me?"

"Um... know." Paul looked about anxiously. "But... ah... Lincoln freed the
slaves, as I think a man in your... ah... position should probably know," he
quipped nervously.

"Honey, you're being disrespectful," Helen scolded him while Elijah glowered.
"Now apologize to the big black man before he beats you into a bloody, pulpy
white mess."

"Helen, what has gotten into you?" Paul whined.

"Duh, honey...!" she laughed in her companion's face and pointed to Elijah's
Holy Black Scepter. "You show me something bigger and more beautiful than
that, and I'll be your slave. Until then, you and I are going to exactly
what this HUGE Black man says. You got that? Now apologize before he tears
your head off."

"I'm sorry," Paul groveled bitterly.

"You will learn the proper respect in due time," Elijah sneered at him.

"Can I touch it?" Helen asked like a little girl asking to pet a Great Dane,
thrilled at its raw, beastly power but afraid it might bite her head off.

"Helen...?" Paul started.

"Paul," she cut him off. "I was speaking with our Black Master." She turned
back to Elijah. "I'm so sorry. My fiance is so..." she stopped, her mind in
search of the correct word.

"White?" Elijah sneered.

"That's it," she nodded. "White... and Jewish to boot," she added. "He'll
come around, though, once he sees my white pussy stuffed to the brim with
that magnificent Black godhood." She reached out to touch Elijah's
gargantuan black phallus, and he nodded approvingly. When Paul made a move
to stop her, he caught one withering glare from Elijah and stopped dead in
his tracks. "My God, it's the size of... shit..." she couldn't find the
appropriate words as her small, pale hands gripped the enormous flesh pipe
just below the ridge of its warhead.

Her tiny white hands could not even encircle half of the projectile's
circumference, her tapered pink fingers wriggling as she tried to get even
more into her grasp. As she fought to gain control over the mammoth
slut-fucker, Elijah toyed with her mercilessly, like a lion with tiny white
lab rat in its jaws. Exerting his indomitable will over his fifth appendage,
he engaged Helen in a playful bout of "arm wrestling" - her weak white
muscles pitted against his invincible black love muscle. She quickly
realized that his ebony trunk was so heavy and powerful that despite her
strongest efforts the enormous Black God could bat his massive truncheon
into her face without even using his own hands to guide it. She ceased
struggling immediately, and let him smash his softball-sized cock-head into
her gasping, groveling face.

When Elijah found Paul's eyes, the whiny Jewish worm was silently fixated
upon the domination and humiliation of his white fiance with tear-filled
eyes. Elijah's gaze pierced through the white worm's sobbing, and the Black
God smirked at the subjugated white man. Paul cringed, attempted to turn
away, but could not wrest his eyes from the depravity being enacted upon his
beloved. Despite the sick sense of shame gripping him, there was something
liberating and indescribably erotic about watching the white woman he loved
treated like a pale-faced whore by the All-Powerful Black God.

In his mind, Paul realized things would never be the same again, that his
darling fiance would never be able to go back to his pathetic pink cock after
tasting the forbidden fruit of Black Supremacy. It was no wonder white men
had sought to outlaw miscegenation all these centuries. One sampling of
Divine Black Power, and any white woman was helpless to resist its utter
Dominance over her slut soul. Paul looked ahead into the future with Helen
and saw nothing but an endless succession of Black Gods using and abusing his
wife's white cunt as a cum incubator for their fertile black seed. Paul also
realized that since he loved her and wanted to be with her forever that he
would now be subjected to willingly assisting her Black Debauchery. Failure
to do this, and she would cast him aside in favor of a properly behaved white
worm who would gladly accept his rightful place, groveling at the feet of the
Almighty Black Phallus.

"Hold still, honey," Paul reached over and tried to steady Helen's head as
Elijah beat her senselessly about the face with his fist-sized cock-head. "I
think he wants you to try and take it in your mouth... like an obedient white
slut," he heard himself add before he turned up his eyes, instinctively
seeking the black giant's approval.

Elijah barely indicated his satisfaction with a dismissive grunt, but the
mere acknowledgement made Paul well up with pride.

"I... I can't get it inside my mouth," Helen bawled as Elijah's prick-head
continued battering her lips. "It's too big. It's like trying to swallow a
cantaloupe whole."

"Stupid white whore," Elijah tore her head away from Paul's grasp and locked
it into position. Unable to move, the pale trembling cunt could only open
her mouth as wide as it would go, steeling herself against the rampaging
skull-choker that battered against her drooling lips. "You will accept what
the Black Man offers you - ALWAYS! Without question! Without trepidation!
From now on, the word 'can't' does not exist for you, only the words 'Yes,
Master'."

"Yes, Master," Helen mewled before her voice became muffled beneath the
thick, black cock-steak being force-fed into her hungry mouth.

Paul watched in utter fascination while the Black God wedged one-quarter of
his ungodly cock-head between his fiance's gasping, stretched-out lips.
Helen's eyes were bugged out in utter shock as she desperately and anxiously
tried to accept the immense girth of the mouth blaster. But despite her best
efforts, she could not accommodate any more than half of the Black Adonis'
titanic tool between her ravenous lips.

Elijah looked at his surroundings and remembered his purpose for visiting the
small boutique. Mastering this white cunt's mouth would have to wait for
another time. He may even have to remove some of her front teeth if her oral
cavity truly was too small to accept his Dominator. There would be future
sessions with this white cum bucket. She had become his bond-woman the
moment she'd laid her white-cunt eyes on his Black Godhood, and her fiance
would willingly serve him, as well. For now, though, his devastation of her
pale-skinned skull would have to wait. He would not go without some kind of
satiation, however.

"Stand!" he commanded the pretty blonde, pulling his inflamed cock-head from
her slavering lips. "You," he pointed to Paul as Helen rose to obey him.
"You will strip this white cunt of her jeans and bend her over, placing her
face directly in this old white hag's pussy." He slapped Katherine's sagging
white ass for emphasis. "You will eat her dried-up white cunt while I fuck
your pussy."

"She's... You can't..." Paul stammered as he helped Helen off with her shoes.

"What is it, worm?" Elijah demanded.

"I'm Catholic... I'm not on the pill," Helen explained. "It's my fertile
time of month. We don't have sex..."

"Enough of your senseless prattling," Elijah shook his head in disgust. "I
will plant my seed in your white womb. Now make this quick. I have matters
to attend to."

"But... you can't... she could get pregnant," Paul whined.

"Precisely, foolish worm," Elijah kicked the whining Jew away from Helen as
she scooted out of her jeans. Wearing only a pair of cute pink socks, Helen
cheerfully bent down to the floor, crawling on her knees and placing her
mouth squarely on Katherine DeGuerrier's aged pussy. She had never eaten
pussy before, but the prospect did not bother her considering the reward she
would be receiving at the other end of her body.

As Helen took her first tentative licks at the older woman's sagging snatch,
she could taste Elijah's cock on Katherine's slick, stretched-out pussy lips.
This spurred on Helen, who seconds later was diving into the woman's cunt
with all the gusto of little pink piggy feeding at a slop trough. Having
wrestled with Elijah's inhuman dimensions in her mouth, Helen was somewhat
prepared for the monstrous girth that pressed against her aching pussy lips.
Even this foreknowledge, however, could not prepare her for the sheer
ecstatic agony that tore at her cunt walls as Elijah relentlessly thrust
into her tender, unyielding cunt flesh. "FUCKING JESUS CHRIST, MARY AND
JOSEPH...!" she howled when she realized the gigantic black cock being forced
up her sopping pussy was not going to cease its invasion, no matter how
impossibly tight and resistant her white cunt remained.

"You will not deny me, white cunt!" Elijah hissed as he plowed endless
half-inch after endless half-inch into her devastated fuck slit. "Do you
understand! I will mount you and breed you like the worthless bitch you
are!"

"Yes, Master..." she grunted, the tears spilling down her cheeks.

Elijah ignored her obvious pain, and continued jabbing his cock into her
tender pink cunt like Mike Tyson tearing up a 98 pound white weakling.
Weeping hysterically, Helen desperately tried to pull herself under control
and ride the anguish punching up into her tummy. Taking deep breaths, she
attempted to relax and accept the enormous ebony baby-maker splitting her
in half.

Her only wish at the moment was that she would be able to accept all of the
Black God's Almighty Power, to feel him rut his rampaging weapon inside her
like a $20 white streetwalker being disciplined by her sadistic pimp. She
prayed she could please her new Master, that her stubborn white cunt would
prove pliable enough to accept his gargantuan godhood, that her worthless
white womb would prove fertile enough to succor his Divine Black Seed.

"Please GOD, FUCK ME!" Helen exhorted herself and the Deity that sought
access to the inner bowels of her trashy white cunt. "Plant your Holy Black
Baby inside my worthless white womb. Give me a reason to fucking live, GOD.
Make me your fucking cock-slave. Turn me into a your worthless white whore.
Knock me up with a little black baby so all my stuck-up, lily-white family
and friends can see I'm just a useless cum junkie for black seed. Show
everyone I'm just a white-trash breeder, a mindless incubator for strong
black babies."

Elijah peered into Paul's eyes as his fiancée surrendered herself and her
future children to the Supreme Cause. The pathetic, Jewish worm nodded with
a twisted smile on his face. He had his small, pitifully hard cock in his
effeminate pale hand, pumping it, thrilling to the utter domination of his
white-cunt wife by the unearthly black giant. "Fuck her..." he whispered.
"Fuck her!" he repeated, louder this time, his voice possessed by the dark
lusts raging in his pallid white soul. "Use her cunt like a cum bucket.
Stud her like brood mare. Plant your Black Seed in her worthless womb. Give
us evidence to show our friends that today we met God, that God fucked us,
that God gave us a little black baby to show the world what a white-trash
slut my fiancée is."

With only three inches of his Spear of Destiny shoved inside Helen's tight
white cum slot, Elijah knew any further, deeper invasion would doubtless take
hours to manage. He would have to satisfy himself with only feeling a tiny
fraction of his length embraced by the tender pink of Helen's pussy. The
white cunt sensed this and began bawling.

"I'm so sorry, Master," she wept. "I'm really trying. Please don't stop.
Please let me ride all of your magnificent black cock. I promise I'll be
able to take it all, I just need time."

"We will have time for that later, white cunt," Elijah slapped her ass, and
she yipped like a spanked puppy. "For now, you will have to be satisfied
with only this small portion of my Almighty Wrath. Do not worry, though. Do
you feel how I can thrust about inside your cunt now, how it slowly yields to
my Black Supremacy. In a short time, you will be able to truly worship the
Son of Thunder. For now, however, your white-cunt soul must be content with
this gift from Yahweh Afrika." Then, with merely his own force of will,
Elijah bid himself to ejaculate inside the white cum toilet snorting like a
pink piggy beneath him.

"OH JESUS FUCKING CHRIST!" Helen shrieked when the first spurt of thick,
scalding black seed irrigated her fallow cunt walls. The Black God pumped
jet after hot jet inside her blasted snatch, dousing the flames burning in
her fertile womb like a high-powered fire hose. "He's fucking doing it,
Paul. He's giving me his Holy Black Seed. I can feel his Black Sperm
swimming up my womb, raping my weak white egg cell. He's going to give us
a beautiful blessed black baby. Oh, Paul, everyone is going to know what a
white-trash slut I am for black cock. Everyone will know you're nothing but
a worthless white worm who has given his white whore wife over to a Black
Master to breed like a bitch. Thank him, Paul. Thank him for showing us
the Way."

"Thank you, Master," Paul whined as his pitiful white cock spewed out barely
a teaspoon of emaciated white seed onto the boutique's carpet.

"Worm," Elijah replied. "Your see must be expunged." He withdrew his
smoking cock from Helen's obliterated fuck hole and aimed his flaring piss
hole directly down at the cum stain Paul had dribbled onto the carpet. In
instant later, a stream of boiling urine shot out from Elijah's bladder and
disinfected the bacterial white sperm teeming atop the carpet fibers.

Helen turned around to witness this ritual sterilizing and expunging of her
fiance's genetically inferior seed. She smiled wickedly at Paul. "Honey,
would you please clean up your mess?" She turned to Elijah as Paul bent down
and began licking up the foil issue. "Honestly, I don't know why I keep him
around," she sighed.

"For his money," Elijah reminded her. "That reminds me, he owes me $1,000
or my breeding services. Each time I fire my potent Black Seed into your
worthless white womb, he must pay me for the privilege."

"Sounds fair," Helen gushed, kissing Elijah's still rampant slut-fucker.
"Doesn't it, honey?"

"Mmm hmm," Paul groveled as he tried desperately to clean all his disinfected
cum from the carpet.

Elijah now returned his attentions to the daisy chain of white cunts arrayed
on the floor before him. "Enough white cunt eating!" he commanded as he
returned his Scepter back to the Holy of Holies behind his flowing robes.
"You white bitches must adorn my brides now, in your most becoming finery.
They are to be wed to Elijah Boanerges, Prince of the Tribe of Yu'dah. We
must show the White Worm the beauty of his enslaved white-cunt sisters as
they are taken in utter bondage."

"How will you be paying for all this?" Katherine asked with a sly smile.

"On my daddy's credit card of course," Sam giggled as she, Marci and Angela
pressed their faces together, smooched passionately, and shared their savory
vaginal essences with each other.

"Shit, I have to call all our friends," Marci suddenly broke away
frantically. "We have to get everyone over there to see you give away in
bondage."

"What about Todd?" Sam suddenly was plagued with a twinge of reality. "I
mean we ARE going out." She realized hat she'd said and turned
apologetically to Elijah. "I mean 'were'," she stammered. "We were going
out."

"That is quite all right if you have white worms to serve you," Elijah
replied with a knowing smile. "I demand that you invite this Todd. The
ceremony is not valid unless my bond-woman is attended by male bond-servant.
This is the role reserved for her effeminate white husband or boyfriend.
Tonight, we shall turn this Todd to the Cause, as well. For you," he pointed
to Angela, "I select Micelli as your bond-servant, to undergo the rite of
humiliation and subjugation. The young white faggot, Jonathan Bower, will act
as the ring bearer and the aged bond-matron Angela shall give away the white
cunt brides."

"Do I get to have a bridal party?" Sam asked, like a typical teenage girl.

"Certainly," Elijah answered. "You may choose three white friends and this
blond cunt will be your bond-maiden of honor. I will be attended four
Groomsmen from the Cause."

"Come on, Sam, after we get all the measurements and stuff let's start
calling everyone," Marci bounced up and down on her heels. "This is going
to be so great. I am SOO envious," she pouted, then smiled. "But my turn
is going to come soon, too, right, Master?" she asked Elijah.

"Yes, blond cunt, I will take you as my bond-woman, but now we must prepare
Samantha and Angela for their bondage ceremony. As for your friends and the
others you invite," he included Angela now. "You must not tell them the
nature of this ceremony, lest they decide to cause us troubles in their
ignorance. Once they are exposed to the Cause, they will see the Truth, but
until then merely say it will be a wedding."

"What should I tell Todd?" Sam asked, puzzled.

"Tell him you wish to marry him and that you have your father's blessing."

"But I'm only 14," Sam whined. "I can't get married."

"Tell him you've joined a religious faith that allows minors to be married
inside the church and live as husband and wife. Tell your white worm he may
have sex with you once you're married. He will not balk at the chance,"
Elijah grinned.

"You sound like you've done this before," Marci giggled.

"Many times, cunt," Elijah patted her on the head. "Now all of you - we have
much work to do before the ceremony. Get to it, cunts!"

    

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