There always come times in every man's life when he doesn't know what the fuck to do. This was one of those times for Bernard Cornfield.
He looked at the huge black slave, who was scared shitless, and he looked at his wife, who was puffy about the lips and wet about the cunt.
He looked at those broken chains, and he looked at the welts on the backside of the slave. He knew the slave was telling the truth and that his wife was lying. He was torn as to what to do. He knew that – to save face – he was going to have to punish the slave, even though his wife had tormented him into the attack.
He knew he was going to have to punish the slave in spite of the fact that it was fairly clear his towheaded mate had been thoroughly enjoying that huge black prick. Bernard told his wife to get upstairs and to clean herself up as much as she could. And he wasn't kidding about this. He told her to move quickly to lessen the chances of anyone seeing her in that condition. Bernard Cornfield then ordered several of his servants to come down into the torture room and help him handle Jonah, because he correctly assumed that the big buck was going to struggle before he could be bound once again.
The huge black man was going to have to be bound with thicker chains, since he was obviously too strong to be held in place by any of the steel links already down there. One of the servants was sent to fetch the strongest chains on the plantation.
Bernard could feel the cold sweat pouring off his body as the men, both black and white, conspired before his very eyes to ruin his manhood. His fuck of Annabelle Cornfield was to be his last.
Jonah thought about Tammy, and what would happen to her now that he would be no good to her any longer. He thought about the torments that his woman would have to go through. He knew that would be just as severe as they had been – and maybe more severe, only now he wouldn't be around to sooth her wounds after she returned from a session in Cornfield's torture chamber.
At that moment, upstairs in the Cornfield Mansion, Tammy Taylor was busy scrubbing the floors. She was aware that there was a scurry of activity involving the torture chamber.
Tammy saw Annabelle emerge from the downstairs horror room looking half dressed and quite disheveled. She saw the slaves running up to fetch thick chains and then returning to the chamber.
Tammy wondered what was up. She returned to her work – never once suspecting that any of this had anything to do with Jonah. As far as Tammy knew only the female slaves were abused down in the torture chamber.
It would never have occurred to the pretty little black girl in a million years that it was her man, her lover, who was about to face the worst torture of all.
Tammy was scrubbing very hard at the dining room floor when she heard the howl of pain from down below, an animalistic cry of agony.
She thought it was the sound of Jonah's strangled voice – but she told herself it was just her overworked imagination. Tammy was in another part of the house when the burlap sack containing Jonah's body was carried upstairs and immediately out of the house.
The sack was thrown onto a big bonfire that had been built and the smoke that rose into the air was all that was left of Tammy's love. That is, except for the special part of Jonah, which Bernard had decided to keep in a box.
It was the following day and Tammy Taylor had been summoned down to the torture chamber. She had been weeping all night because Jonah had not shown up at the shack they shared.
Tammy thought that Jonah had spent the night with another woman, and her mind was on her lover, even though she knew she was about to face yet another harsh torture session in the chamber in the bowels of the Cornfield mansion.
She had stripped herself naked and was standing near the torture table when Bernard Cornfield approached her, holding the box in front of him.
The evil white man removed the lid from the box and invited Tammy to look inside. The little girl could feel all of the blood draining from her face and she instantly felt dizzy.
Her coffee colored skin became slick with cold sweat and she could feel her stomach becoming ill. She saw what was in the box – and she knew she would never be able to erase that ugly memory from the gray matter within her skull for as long as she lived.
"Do you see what is in the box, little nigger cunt? That's right, it's the cock and the bloody balls of your man, your lover. I had to cut them off. Unfortunately the man bled to death but you can still have the part of him that you liked best. Here, take the box. It is yours. A present from me to you. I want you to keep it for all times, as a souvenir. A memento of the good times you had with him. You see, he stepped out of line. That nigger boy went too far and he had to be punished. I didn't want to do it, but I had to do it, because we can't have nigger boys around here messing with the white women, especially when the white woman involved is my wife. Your lover, the man you loved, really was an animal, you see. He raped my wife and he had to lose his manhood. He had to lose his life. Before I had to share you with him, nigger cunt. But those days are over. Now you are mine alone, and you will live only to serve my cock and my whip."
Tammy thought that she was asleep having some sort of horrible nightmare. She thought of pinching herself to see if she was really awake – but that was not necessary.
She felt pain.
The pain was real.
Too real.
She was awake, all right!
"What? You don't want the box with Jonah's cock and balls in it? I am surprised. I would think you would want to shove it inside yourself at night, just so you could remember what it was like when he fucked you. Very well, you refuse my gift. I will have it burned, just the way I had the rest of that nigger boy burned. But you will get a present from me, because I am in the mood to give you one. I will give you a present that you will be unable to refuse!!!"
Tammy was ordered to get on her back on the torture table and she was quickly bound into place in a spread-eagled position. She had been through this many times before.
She had a feeling that the man intended on hurting her and humiliating her worse than he ever had before – but she really didn't mind.
She felt tremendous guilt.
The little girl figured she was responsible for her lover's death when you got right down to it. She had told him about the horrible ways she had been mistreated down in that torture chamber.
She knew that it was her own pain, which Jonah had shared as if it were his own, which had sent him down to that torture chamber to rape Annabelle Cornfield.
She had no idea that it had been Annabelle who had constructed the entire situation, and that Annabelle was responsible for her man's demise.
Tammy thought it was she who was to blame – and she felt she was deserving of all of the punishment Bernard Cornfield could dish out, no matter how sadistic and severe.
Tammy was afraid, but her fear was tempered by her guilt. She resigned herself to the agony she knew to be impending. She resigned herself to the pain she knew she would have to suffer as long as her mortal soul remained on the earth.
Tammy began to wish that Bernard Cornfield would just kill her and end her miserable existence. She knew that this would not be the case, however.
Tammy, for all of her ignorance, was a keen judge of human nature, and she knew that Bernard enjoyed her pain too much to kill her. She would be no good to him when she was dead.
He wanted her alive and kicking.
Able to scream.
Able to feel agony.
"Yes, because you are now mine and mine alone, I am going to give you a fine piece of gold jewelry. You should feel honored, little nigger cunt, because no slave of mine has EVER been allowed to wear such a piece of jewelry," Bernard Cornfield said. He remained on one side of the torture chamber, so that Tammy Taylor would be able to watch his movements at all times.
Bernard went to a cabinet across from the foot of the wooden slab torture table and pulled out a tiny gold ring – which looked like an earring worn by woman with pierced ears.
"This is a nipple ring," Bernard Cornfield said holding the ring up for Tammy to see in between his right thumb and forefinger. "But, of course, before you can wear it, I will have to make a hole in your nipple. I wan you to relax and reflect a moment on just how much pain you will experience while I am making the hole in your nipple, mutilating your feminine erection, so that you will never be the same again."
"Pleas… no!" Tammy whimpered. Her heart felt as if it were pumping its way right up into her throat – as if it were sooner or later going to work its way right out of her mouth.
Her lips were parted and trembling. Her nipples were erect with fear. Bernard was pleased that the little girl's chocolate colored nipples were stiff – because this would make them much easier to pierce.
Her tits were so firm and fill with her sexy youth, that they hardly flattened at all, in spite of the fact that she was on her back and the force of gravity was directly against them.
The man moved to the side of the torture table. He placed the ring and the needle on the table beneath the little girl's arm. He grabbed her right nipple with his thumb and forefinger – as he had decided that this was the feminine erection he wanted most to pierce.
He pinched the nipple.
He pulled at it.
He pulled the cocoa colored rosebud until the skin all around it was stretched taut and the whole breast was made to look pointier then usual.
The man released his grip on the nipple and allowed to snap back into place. He was going to make the little girl wait for her agony for a moment longer. He was smart enough and sadistic enough to know that the dread Tammy Taylor was experiencing at that moment was an intricate part of the torture.
He took the long, thick needle over to one of the lit lamps on the wall. He removed the lamps cover and held the needle over the open flame.
When the needle was very hot, almost glowing with heat, he returned to the table. The tip of the needle had become very hot, while the base, where the man held it, was still cool enough to not burn his fingers.
The sadistic white man then tugged the nipple once again with the thumb and forefinger on his left hand, while he held the hot needle in a similar fashion in his other hand.
Bernard Cornfield ran the sharp tip of the needle all around the nipple – as if he were looking for a suitable spot to break the skin. The little girl concentrated on taking slow deep breaths to keep herself calm, but she found that all of her efforts were futile. She was scared shitless, and she could barely breath at all because of her intense fear.
The man had stopped moving the tip of the thick needle all together and there was a pause, which seemed like an eternity to Tammy, because her fear was severely elongating her sense of time. One one thousand, two one thousand, three one thousand and then…
The sadistic white man stabbed with the needle, flicking his wrist. He drove the sharp tip right into the little girl's dark, hypersensitive nipple flesh. The man could have pushed the sharp needle all the way through the little girl's nipple if he had wanted to. But he didn't want to.
He was going to pierce her nipple slowly.
He wanted Tammy's pain to linger.
He pushed the needle through her nipple only a fraction of an inch at a time as the little girl felt all of the muscles in her diminutive form tensing up on her involuntarily and simultaneously. She strained to arch her back and lift her tensed black ass cheeks away from the torture table, but her stringent bondage prevented her from doing so.
He pushed and he pushed, holding himself back, because indeed, there was a part of the white man that wanted to stab the needle through that nipple as fast as he could also. But he held himself back and summoned up all of his patience and all of his willpower.
Many seconds after the needle first sunk into the little girl's nipples flesh he could finally see the skin on the other side of the feminine erection pushing outward.
Tammy didn't want to watch herself being mutilated in this fashion – but somehow she could not help herself. Some part of morbid curiosity forced her to watch what was happening.
Not only did she watch, but she watched with eyes wide and unblinking. Indeed, the little black girl did not blink until her eyes burned and felt full of sand.
And the pain.
The pain was indescribable.
The pain was beyond words.
Her scream of pain was a strangled gurgle, and she remembered the howl of pain she had heard while scrubbing the floors, and she knew that this had been the last cry of her lover – and now she heard her own voice, sounding far, far away, and it reminded her of him and the pain they shared – and she once again prayed to a merciless God whom she had worshipped for so long. She prayed once again that her white master would kill her – so that she and Jonah could once again be together, this time forever, this time without torment.
There was surprisingly little blood as the sadistic white man pierced the little girl's nipple. Only a droplet or two of crimson liquid oozed from the wound he had opened.
There was a popping noise as the tip of the needle poked through the other side of the nipple. Now there were two wounds, one on either side of the nipples, but neither of them bled very much. She half expected, in her ignorance, to see milk come from those wounds.
The man did not pull the needle back out right away. He did not want to hole he had opened up to close up on him immediately. He worked the needle back and forth through the bloody opening he had created. The nipple was a flap of brown flesh running up and down the needle. He did this for what seemed like forever before finally pulling the needle all the way out. He used a cloth to wipe the blood away and then picked up the little gold ring, which was still sitting on the wooden torture table beneath the little girl's arm.
He inserted the ring in her nipple.
He twisted it and then locked it shut.
"Very pretty," he said.
Tears streamed down Tammy's face.