Date: Fri, 4 Aug 2006 15:48:59 EDT
From: Danhol900@aol.com
Subject: Brutal Trucker Sex #17

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