SLAVEGIRL KITTY

BY UNKNOWN

[ part 2 ]

Greg was now sexually satisfied and able to think a little clearer. He decided he needed to find out just where this little darling was coming from and where she was headed.

“How do you know about all these things?” he asked.

“What things?”

“You know, slaves, master and whips ‘n things”.

“Well sir… I mean master, I read about them in a book”, she answered.

“A book! What book?”

“One of the men that used to come and visit mum used to bring books with him and one day he forgot to take one of them home, and I found it and hid it so I could read it later in my room”.

“Have you still got the book?” Greg asked.

“Yes master, I’ve got it hidden under my bed”.

“I’d like to see it, can you get it for me?”

Kitty smiled again. “Of course master, I’ll get it right away”. With that she jumped off the bed, ran out of the room and started toward the front door.

“Kitty”, Greg screamed. “Put some fucking clothes on first!”

“Oh yes”, she laughed, and grabbed her little dress.

She was gone only three or four minutes and returned carrying a thick publication with what looked like quality art work on the front cover. She handed Greg the book, stripped off her dress and sidled up to her new master rubbing her hand gently along his now limp member. Greg examined the front cover. The setting was a negro slave auction around the early nineteenth century. Five girls stood shackled hand and foot and tended by two brutish looking overseers brandishing heavy bullwhips plus a crowd of prospective bidders. Three of the girls were fully developed eighteen to twenty year olds while the fourth was younger, about fourteen. The fifth girl, however was just a child about Kitty’s age with no breasts or body hair. The book was entitled ‘How It Was, How It Should Be’.

Greg opened the cover. There were five stories to the book. Each following the fate of one of the five slave girls upon completion of their sale to the highest bidder. The stories were in a sort of cartoon form with quarter page, half page and full page drawings all done with meticulous attention to detail and leaving little to the imagination. The girls faced harsh tortures which became more extreme as each story progressed. There were numerous watercolours of unbelievably cruel flogging scenes.

“Go to the last one, master. She’s only a little girl like me”, urge Kitty.

Greg flipped over a number of pages until he came across the final story, the story of ten year old Bessie. The front page depicted a scene where a naked Bessie, hung upside down, was being mercilessly beaten by a sadistic and laughing white master to the obvious delight of a number of young white boys and girls who were sexually interfering with each other. The story was entitled ‘Even The Kids Love It’. Greg continued turning the pages and Bessie’s plight did not improve. On the fifth page a full size coloured artwork showed Bessie suspended parallel to the ground and cruelly bound by ropes stretching each wrist and ankle wide apart. The bullwhip was being mercilessly applied to her open hairless slit and the caption read ‘Another hundred to come little bitch’, the comment afforded to the brute wielding the lash. It was then that Greg noticed an addition to the original drawing. The word ‘ME’ was added with an arrow pointing to the little girl, and the word ‘GREG’ was added with an arrow pointing to the whipmaster.

He tried to take in what it all meant.

“Did you write that, Kitty”, he asked.

“Yes master”, she replied. She crept up to his ear and whispered “Because I want to be your Bessie”.

Chapter III

Greg cuddled Kitty and they kissed passionately once more. The pleasure of inserting his tongue into the wanting little mouth of a preteen was something he had never experienced before and something he never thought would interest him. But he was hooked, hooked on this eleven year-old girl.

He picked her up and laid her on the couch. He spread her youthful legs and went to work with his tongue on her two little clean hairless cavities. She moaned with pleasure. Greg secretly prided himself in his ability to orally satisfy a woman. He used every skill he had learned over the last fifteen years or so to bring Kitty to thrilling orgasm.

“Oh master”, she moaned. “Master, I’m yours”.

“Yes Kitty, girl, you are. You are now my slave and I am going to be the world’s cruellest master”, he replied as he picked up Kitty’s book. Greg didn’t really mean what he said, he just wanted to help the little girl live out her fantasy. But was it just a fantasy? “You will suffer much, much more than Bessie here, in fact this will just be a warm up”, he added pointing to the gruesome flogging scenes that adorned the ensuing pages.

“Oh master, please”, she begged as she dropped to her knees before him.

“Please what, slave?”

“Please master, I’ll suffer anything for you. I promise you I’ll never ever ask you to stop no matter how cruel you wish to be. I am your slave slut, to do with as you please”.

“Get down and lick my arse and don’t stop ‘till I tell you, slave”.

“Yes master, thank you master”, was her instant response.

As kitty tongued his shithole, Greg continued to thumb through the remainder of Bessie’s torture. The artist had brilliantly captured the sheer agony and anguish on the face of the girl under the lash, contrasted by the ecstatic and sadistic delight on the faces of the flogger and his young onlookers. Greg noted that for all its quality of reproduction, the book carried no credits or publishing information. It was, no doubt, some sort of underground editorial distributed only to a select few. Finally though, tucked at the bottom left hand corner of the last page, a website address and next to it written in pen, what appeared most likely to be, a user name and password. Perhaps, Greg thought, whoever had inadvertently left this book at Emily’s old place of residence, was a member of some white supremacist group who took great delight in the enslavement and whipping torture of young black girls, and this site could be their mode of communication worldwide. He wondered if the site was still active and, more to the point, if the user name and password were still current. A long shot, but you never know.

Then Greg noticed that, among all the complicated gobbly-goog of the web address, were three letters, three letters that would explain a lot of things about the book. Those three letters were ‘kkk’.

“Kitty”, he started.

She desisted with her obedient tongue and answered. “Yes master”.

What do you know about the Internet?”

“I’ve heard about it, but I’ve never seen anyone use it”, she answered honestly.

He pointed to the funny looking word at the bottom of the page. “See that, that’s what's called a web sit address or URL. If we go to that address we may be able to find lots more stories about Bessie and the other girls”.

“COOL”, she squealed with delight. “But how do you GO to it”.

“Its easy, I’ll show you”.

Greg took her by the hand and led her into one of his spare bedrooms which he used as an office. He sat on the chair facing the computer and asked her to sit on his lap. His cock was hard again with the anticipation of what they might find on the web, so he had Kitty sit with a leg either side of his dick. She squeezed it gently and watched in wonderment as he switched on his unit and proceeded to punch in the commands required to access the world wide web.

When log-on was complete, he carefully copied the web address from Kitty’s book making sure that each alpha character was typed in its correct case and each non-alpha character in its correct sequence. After comparing the strings twice, he hit the ‘ENTER’ key and waited. A few seconds passed and the screen went dark grey, then slowly figures began to take shape. It was KKK alright, the gowns and masks were unmistakable. A number of men, arms folded and brandishing ugly bullwips, took shape and gradually came into focus. There was no writing or description of any kind, just a popup window asking for a User Id & Password. He punched in the handwritten information in the book, hit ‘ENTER’ again and waited.

Background artwork, similar to that in Kitty’s book appeared followed by some sort of KKK creed about the superiority of the white races and the duty of non-whites to serve and pleasure their Aareon masters. Next came a message of welcome which prompted the reader to use the ensuing menu page to access material that would give the most pleasure. Options included ‘Galleries’, ‘Videos’, ‘Stories’, ‘Slave Hiring/Leasing’ and ‘Special Holidays’.

“Galleries”, said Greg. “That looks like a good place to start. What do you think, slave?”

“What’s a gallery, master?” Kitty asked.

“A whole heap of photos and drawings like in your book”.

“COOL, lets go there”. Her excitement was building.

Greg clicked on the gallery icon and a new screen carrying a multitude of names appeared. The names, first names were all female and each was followed by an age and the number of photos in the album. Greg didn’t have to look far to find one about Kitty’s age, in fact, the third on the list, Niomi age 9, 48 photos. Greg clicked again and thumbnails quickly flashed up on the screen. Even from viewing the miniatures, Greg could see that what they were looking at was a photo record of a real life flogging of a very young girl. He opened the first file and it quickly downloaded. The photograph was of the highest quality and depicted a young prepubescent latino looking girl, completely naked and bound with her arms stretch high above her head, being menaced by a figure in KKK garb brandishing a cat-o-nine-tails. An inscribtion under the photo read ‘For the crime of being non-white and thus a member of inferior races, a merciless flogging’.

“Wow!” Exclaimed Kitty as she stared wide eyed at the screen. Greg, rubbing her nipples with one hand and manouvering the mouse with the other, opened and observed a succession of photos in the album. Many of the photos showed the brutish whip flaying into the girls body and the welts, cuts and lashes became more severe as the gallery progressed. By the 48th photo the girl with her hair matted, her face contorted and her body sweated, beaten, welted and bloodied, hung limp in her bonds. It was a very disturbing sight but Greg found also very exciting.

Kitty squeezed Gregs dick a little harder and asked. “Are you going to do that to me, master?”

“That, and much more”, he replied.

“Oh master, I love you so much, I can’t wait”.

The final icon below the last thumbnail, a box with the words ‘The video’ caught Greg’s attention. He moved the arrow and clicked. The multimedia programme opened and download began. ‘Downloading 24556kb’ it read as the percentage downloaded reached 1.

“This could take a while, slave. How about we have some fun while we wait”.

She turned toward him, put her arms around his neck, moved her mouth against his ear and whispered. “Are you going to whip me now, master”.