Scene: Still my third shift, Wednesday night till Thursday morning, as warehouse whore for Spignotti and Sons. It's sometime in the middle of the night by this point, maybe 3AM. My shift is from 11PM till 7AM so I've still got about four more hours to endure whatever these sadistic bastards want to throw at me. The usual warnings apply.
After my first involuntary yelp when Sarge's fist first crammed inside my battered, beaten and whipped hole, the pain of that terrible fist tearing my insides was excruciating. I naturally clenched my hole tighter as instinct drove my initial response to Sarge's fist invasion. Sarge simply loved that my body was fighting his intrusion; as if he would be disappointed if his pleasure wasn't causing me pain. My colon twisted and turned in an attempt to dislodge the massive intruder. But he just kept his hand motionless enjoying my ineffective attempts to expel him and reveling in the complete domination he and Mr. Spignotti had over me. Beads of sweat formed on my body and began to drip onto the warehouse cement floor.
I was in agony, screaming for him to pull it out but he only laughed saying, "Fuck babycakes, you aint seen nothing yet. We're gonna pound your bitch hole to smithereens and you'll be begging for more by the time we're through" as laughter and cheers went through the crowd of horny truckers. The fisting by Sarge was even more brutal and painful then when I was on display in his arms for the entire room. Now Sarge was pounding my hole like he was pounding a nail with a hammer; a black fist hammer. Mr. Spignotti was still using all of his weight on his foot as a counter force to keep me from sliding forward from the power of Sarge's punches. I was being beaten up from the inside, punch fucked by an angry Black trucker, cheered on by a waiting crowd of grimy, sweaty, dirty, horny truckers with the tacit approval of the Sicilian warehouse owner in his fine tailored silk suits and fancy leather dress shoes.
Part of me was naive enough to think that perhaps Sarge and I had made some kind of a connection earlier with our cooing, murmurs and quiet-time earlier. Now Sarge actually seemed more intent, more hate-filled and focused on abusing me; as if he understood that deep inside that was what I really craved. My rock hard cock may also have been a give-away for him. "Shit" Sarge snarled, "I got to get my rocks off in this fuckin hot pussy hole. Fuckin hole should be able to take both trucker fist and trucker dick, don't you think Mr. Spignotti?" Mr. Spignotti sneered, "I'd sure as shit like to see that, wouldn't you boys?" Mr. Spignotti nodded to the desperately horny truckers surrounding us. "You got the fuckin floor Sergeant Carter as far as I can tell fucker." Mr. Spignotti said this last part looking sternly at Vince Brundt who was brooding silently in the corner, pretending to not watch the festivities. I did notice however, even with my head painfully pressed to the cement floor by Mr. Spignotti's shoe, that Brundt's dick was as hard as the others.
Sarge stopped his violent punch fucking of my traumatized hole for just a moment as he shifted position behind me. With his muscled black arm still firmly embedded inside me, stretching my butthole to incredible proportions, I also felt a second blunt object pressing at the opening. This new object pressed with determination, seeking any entrance to my already overcrowded fuck tube. I heard Sarge cuss, "Fuckin bitch hole is tighter than a fucking monk's asshole, gonna need a bit of convincing." With that Sarge ripped his fist vigorously from my pussy and quickly rammed his hard cock inside followed immediately by that massive black fist. My fuck hole did not have time to adjust to any of this. It happened so quickly that all I know was suddenly my hole was now crammed full of massive hard black trucker cock and thick, muscled black trucker fist. I felt like the ill-fated monk, splayed open on the arm and cock of a domineering Black trucker who got his jollies abusing me. I was in agony and would have struggled to escape if it weren't for the strong determined foot of Mr. Spignotti. I heard Mr. Spignotti say over my head, "Fuck that's one fucked over honky trucker slut. One god damned, slimy well fucked trucker slut."
Sarge immediately started to slide his fist and arm inside me in opposite directions, as his dick would slide in his fist would slide out. Never once did either appendage leave my poor overly-stretched hole, they just seemed to shift positions inside me. My head was spinning but I think I heard shouted comments and encouragement for Sarge from the other truckers. By this point I think they may simply have wanted him to finally finish so they would have a chance to use me too. I also wanted him to finish, ending this newest pain and humiliation, except my rigid dripping cock disagreed with these thoughts. Eventually Sarge got into a natural motion and I noticed he had shifted his arm around so that his dick was sliding inside my hole and also inside his clenched fist. My god I realized, that sadistic Black bastard was jerking off inside of me and loving the feeling of each and every stroke. I could feel everything inside me, even the knuckles of Sarge's fist and his thick black cock sliding in and out of his hand. I could feel his fingers spread apart every time his cock slid inside his palm; so tightly was my fuck tube clinging to Sarge's fist and cock. My face reddened with this new shame and humiliation, I was a fucking cum puppet for a strong, proud Black Army Sergeant who was getting his joys by jerking off inside my traumatized hole.
Sarge began to slide his cock into my hole and into his own clenched fist with increasing speed and determination. He was using Max's cum as lube for his honky pussy jerk session. "Shit" I heard him snarl, "I think I found me a new fuckin use for honky hole, a fucking jerk off tube. A fuckin hot, slimy jerk off tube for my dick and hand, right boys?" as the truckers around us murmured their agreement. Sarge was giving me every inch of his cock now without removing his arm from inside so that his entire fuck stroke, every inch of it was providing him with the ultimate pleasure, feeding his obvious need to inflict pain and degradation on his honky trucker bitch all the while enjoying my futile struggled to escape and my high pitched squeals of agony. I was pleading and begging Sarge, Mr. Spignotti and everyone else around me to help me, to end this horrible experience. They all just laughed, enjoying the shared camaraderie of this new game of abuse and humiliation.
It wasn't long before I felt Sarge slam his cock in hard and stay there while his fist slid back and forth rapidly, pumping load after load of hot, slimy potent Black seed inside my hole. "Oh fuck" he gasped, "Fuck yeah, mmmnnn yeah. Yeah fucking bitch hole, take it all bitch, take my fuckin load. Yeah, fuck yeah. Fuck yeah bitch" as he drained the last drops from his humungous black low hangers into my hole. His cum became a new toy for him as he used it for additional lube as he pulled his cock free and then slowly pulled his fist from my shattered hole. He pulled out for only a second then slammed his fist back inside, deeper than he'd ever gone before, almost as if he wanted me to understand that I was completely at his disposal, under his dominion. Sarge was letting me know that I would have no choice in these matters from now on, that even after he dumped his load inside me I was still subject to any whim or impulse that entered his sadistic mind. I didn't own my own body anymore; it was the property of the men of Spignotti and Sons Distribution Center. He sent his clenched black fist slamming deep inside me three more times with painful grunts from me and cheers from the surrounding truckers. I understood my place at Spignotti and Sons; warehouse fuck hole for anyone who wanted me.
Sarge stood up, towering over me, looking over his handiwork clearly pleased with his accomplishments. I was sprawled painfully with my bitch hole gaping wide open dripping with cum, my ass held unnaturally high in the air and my chest pressed painfully onto the cold cement floor by the shoe of the sadistic Sicilian warehouse owner. I remember babbling something, trying to get them to let me up and let me go. The words were not forming properly in my mind and I can't imagine what or if anything escaped my lips while sprawled on the floor. My mind was a swirl of emotions, needs and desires; all intense, all consuming and all conflicting.
From my position I couldn't see what Sarge was doing but the reaction of the truckers I could see told me he was looking around the room. I heard him snarl, "Madd-dog, Roosevelt, Smithson, Spider, Ranger, Shades and Primemeat, get your fuckin black asses over here and give this pussy bitch what he's craving. This bitch is fuckin hankering more black fists and I sure as hell know you bastards haven't had the pleasure of fisting a hole while fucking the som-bitch."
I could believe it; these were the same bastards who gave me their piss enemas earlier. Now Sarge was inviting them to shove their black fists inside me just as he had done. The first up was Shades, a young, slim trucker from the West Coast who drove a rig with produce from Sacramento to the Eastern Seaboard. Shades got his nickname from the sunglasses he always wore, even at night. Shades was thin and lightly muscled, his fist and arm was small compared to the muscled frame of Sarge. Tentatively he knelt down behind me and started to finger my torn and tattered hole. I tried to struggle, to shift my hips and to tighten my hole to keep the fucker out but it was useless. I pleaded, "No Shades, please don't. Have some compassion Sir. Please leave me alone" Sarge just sneered, "Fuck the scumbag Shades, the fuckin bastard wants it man, look at that fuckin hard cock down there dribbling enough juice to lube his own ass for you, man" to cheers and chants from the horny truckers around us. Sarge had so stretched my muscles that my pussy hole was nothing but folds of soft, hot, moist skin draping over a warm inviting hole. With the pussy lipstick Sarge applied earlier it must have looked like some slut's well used pussy hole.
Shades reached down and stroked my hard cock twice, coating his hand with my own slick precum juices. I instinctively arched my back murmuring, "Oh yeah that feel sooo fuckin good. Fuck me, fill me please" confirming in his own mind that I really did want his fist inside me. Shades quickly warmed up to the idea when he realized there was nothing I could do to keep his fist out of me even if I wanted to. He seemed to take to the sadistic side of forced fisting my hole and the complete power and domination this gave him over me, a lowly trucker whore. He slid his right hand in with surprising ease as a cheer went up from the crowd and a single tear formed in my eye pressed firmly to the floor. I was coming to the realization that I was now truly a warehouse trucker slut for any cock or anything a trucker wanted to put in me. Shades' fist felt smaller than Sarge's which was a very good thing as he pulled it all the way out and slammed it all the way back in. After a few minutes of this his fist was joined by this cock which was also less of a stretch than Sarge's. A few minutes of pumping, grunting and twisting and I felt Shades tighten up, slam his cock in hard and dump a load of trucker cum deep inside me. Shade was replaced by the Black trucker Spider. Spider was replaced by Ranger, then Primemeat, Smithson and finally Roosevelt. I was glad that Roosevelt was the last of the bunch to fist and fuck me. He had the largest, thickest arm and cock; thicker even than Sarge. By the time he was slamming himself inside me I had long since lost my feeling back there. I was a reduced to a passive hole for Black trucker fist and cock.
All the while that the Black truckers were fisting me Sarge walked around so that his shiny black work boots were directly in front of my face. The smell of leather, sweat and foot odor filled my nostrils as my mind focused on these boots as a way of forgetting the torments being inflicted by the others. Slowly Sarge brought his boots closer to my face so I could get an even closer view. From this angle the boots looked gigantic. They were so large they completely filled my field of vision as Sarge rubbed his boots along my open mouth. He was wearing black leather work boots at least ten inches high with thick black knobby rubber soles. The boots strangely felt good rubbing against my lips as the tough leather soothed my jangled nerves. Sarge slowly and single mindedly started to rub my open mouth all over his boots. With Mr. Spignotti still pressing my head firmly to the ground all I could do was stay there and let Sarge enjoy the mouth worship of his humungous black work boots. I started thinking about how important Sarge had become to my existence at the warehouse, how much I'd miss him once I'd graduated from his two-week "Spignotti Boot Camp" he'd been hired for to whip the new slut into shape. I would miss Sarge desperately even though I knew we had more than a week left together. Part of me resented this but part of me understood that Sarge also had a job with the US Army. Even though he was only moonlighting at Spignotti and Sons I knew he had many new honky recruits to "Black" in the Army. I was just a part time project Sarge was enjoying as a kind of distraction from his real duties shaping young compliant honky troops in the US Army.
I think Spider was fisting and fucking my hole at this point and that sadistic bastard was punch-fucking me as hard and as painfully as Sarge had done. The thrusts and plunges were slamming into me with increasing speed as the crowd around me starting chanting and encouraging the son of a bitch on. I desperately needed something to take my mind off the brutal assault on my poor, poor pussy hole. Sarge's shiny black work boot seemed like the only other thing in my world at the time so I started to run my tongue around his boot as best as my position allowed. Mr. Spignotti moved his foot from my neck to between my shoulder blades. The effect was more painful, my back was arched even sharper but allowed more motion for my head. I heard, or maybe I felt Sarge moan, "Yeah baby, kiss my nasty black boots. Kiss them like you kiss my black ass, bitch. MMMnnnn yeah that looks so fuckin hot. Fuckin honky whore slobbering all over your ole Black Sergeant's boots. Fucking slut bitch, yeah"
Just the thought that Sarge was getting pleasure from my licking his boots made me want to (fuck no made me need to) keep kissing his boots. The vicious painful pounding of my torn and beaten hole started to fade from my consciousness as my whole world collapsed to just my mouth and those wonderful black boots that Sarge wore. I heard Sarge murmur very quietly, "Fuck yeah baby, lick my fuckin boots. Make love to them bitch, show me just how much you love my big black boots. Run your hot tongue along each of those fuckin 10 eyelets, bitch. Fuckin trace that thick course leather bootlace, fuckin tongue those god damned laces, slut." I was hypnotized by Sarge's deep penetrating baritone voice as he continued, "Fuckin love my size 14 EEE Steel boots, don't cha baby? Have em custom made and shipped in special just for you from fuckin England, just so you can get your hot cum covered tongue on em. You love `em, don't you bitch? Love my fuckin hot black boots? Love my fuckin size 14 black Steel Boots too, don't cha bitch" with that Sarge lifted his foot so I had access to the bottom of his boot. I ran my tongue over the deep crevices and knobs of the macho black rubber sole, held in place by 26 shiny metal screws with Phillip Screwheads. There was even a steel plate bolted to the sole with raised lettering saying "STEEL", just so any boot pig like me wouldn't forget what brand of boots he was worshipping. Sarge whispered seductively, "Yeah baby, you like those big knobby treads on my fuckin work boots, a real fucking working man's boot for you baby, a fucking Black studs boots for you to make love to Bitch." The incessant pounding and stretching of my fuck tube by Roosevelt by this time was only half conscious to me, most of my thoughts were for Sarge's boots. Maybe it was all the abuse I'd endured so far this evening, only my third shift at Spignotti and Sons, but I kind of lost my mind or more accurately lost all inhibitions. All I wanted to do was to lick every inch of Sarge's boots, the smell and feel was intoxicating and addicting. I needed to get those wonderful boots inside my mouth as I struggled to cram as much of them into my mouth. I needed to get these black leather appendages inside me at any cost, I was desperate. I got one boot in my mouth far enough to make myself gag as Sarge burst out laughing. "You love the leather of the fuckin boots, don't you bitch?" Sarge snarled, "Fuckin love the smell, the feel and the fuckin taste of leather boots, right slut. Fuckin trucker slut slobbering over my fuckin boots, fuckin BEE-UUUU-ti-FUL" Sarge snarled, "God damned fuckin BEEEE-UUUU-ti-FULLLLL". I was desperate for the boots. I needed them, I imagined the large black feet cradled comfortably inside them, laced tightly into leather and rubber. I thought about Sarge's feet, imagined the curve of his arch, the size and shapes of his toes. I opened my mouth as wide as possible as Sarge started to slide his left boot tip into and out of my mouth, going a little bit deeper with each thrust. Sarge was fucking my mouth with his boots; my cock was rock hard at the thought. I found myself making slurping sounds as I worked as hard as I could to get more of Sarge's boot inside my mouth. My lips stretched, the knobs of the soles rubbed along my tongue as I tasted the grimy and filthy warehouse floor, imagining it was the taste of a gigantic black cock sliding into my mouth.
I was so engrossed in my attempt to swallow the whole boot I didn't even hear the clicks and whirls of Polaroid cameras documented my newest torments and abuse. Several weeks later, while on the road with Vinton Brundt I saw a few of the photos being passed around from one sweaty, dirty, grimy trucker to the next at a greasy spoon later. Their faces would light up and wide wicked smiles would spread across each trucker as he saw the photos of my degradation. The sight was quite amazing and truly enthralled the onlookers. There I was, naked with my chest pressed firmly to the cement floor, arms flailing uselessly at my sides and Mr. Spignotti's tall, regal, attractive figure, olive complexion, dark wavy hair slicked back towering over my with his left foot firmly pressing on my shoulder blades. At my backside there was the heavyset kneeling form of Roosevelt, the black trucker, viciously slamming his fist full force into my upturned ass as Sarge crammed the first three inches of his Steel boot into my mouth. The photo was very hot and told the truckers in the greasy spoon just how much of a trucker pig I could be if they played their cards right. I learned later that those photos were often used for that purpose, or by Mr. Spignotti as a lure to increase deliveries to the third shift in order to hide whatever "secret deliveries" he was involved with.
When Roosevelt had finally pumped his load of trucker swimmers inside my stretched hole I felt him stand and Sarge strut around to my upturned ass, my legs painfully spread apart, my ass high and inviting in the air with my shoulder blades pressed firmly to the floor by Mr. Spignotti. Sarge took his saliva covered boot and started tracing around the circle of my opening with the rounded boot tip. I felt the boot poking at my hole and my only desire was to have that wonderful boot inside my hole. I knew that this would bring pleasure to the sadistic, domineering Black man inside the boot; that was all I wanted too. Involuntarily I started to slide my battered pussy lips around the boot tip, feeling the leather and rubber grip my opening as I was able to get a few inches inside. I purred like a kitten murmuring, "Oh yeah, oh yes Sir. I love your boot, Sir. I love the feel of your black Steel boot Sergeant. Please Sir, please put it in me, please" I urged. Sarge responded with his own low guttural voice saying, "Fuck yeah bitch. You need to be boot fucked, you need this fuckin black leather boot inside that stretched out pussy hole. You want to make your ole Sarge happy don't you baby? You need to make your Sarge feel good, right?" I was hypnotized by that voice, by my need to give `my' Sergeant pleasure, to make him feel great, king of the world, no matter what the cost to me. I gyrated my hips upward trying to get as much of that humungous black boot inside me to derision and laughter from the truckers around us.
"You want it bitch, you got it" was all I heard from Sarge...
This seems like a good place to end this chapter. Let me know what you think. Do you like the direction this story is taking? Any comments or questions please write me at danhol900@aol.com