Manor of the black Lord. Part 6

Slowly, Dantrell began to move inside her, swaying and crushing the unyielding bosom, which immediately began to give out new portions of lubricant in order to help the process. After a few minutes, Dantrell’s cock was sliding inside the woman quite freely. Samantha herself could not believe it. Sensations seized her with an endless storm of oncoming waves. There was already a real heat in her stomach, which, accumulating in a huge lump, exploded again and again. Feeling the movement of a huge nigga cock inside her tender white tummy, Samantha moaned loudly. Her dazed eyes fell on the portrait of the family that hung on the wall. The disgusting face of her husband looked out of the picture with silent reproach. She suddenly felt ashamed of herself, for the lust that seized her, for her own weakness, for allowing her to break her will, and now she could not overcome the dictates of her body, which demanded even more pleasure.

The woman turned away, but Dantrell, who followed her gaze, immediately grabbed the slave by the hair and made her turn back to the painting.

“Look,” he ordered. – And let him look.

  • Uuuuaaa! – she moaned instead of answering and a stream of juice, pushed out by another strong orgasm, flowed down her trembling full legs.
  • Do you like being your master’s whore? Dantrell continued to interrogate her.
  • Yeah.
  • Do you like his big black cock?
  • Ddddaaa!
  • Would you like to give birth to him a little black child?
  • Naaa! She moaned instead of answering.

Two fabulously beautiful young girls with thin wasp waists and haughty looks watched their mother from a frozen canvas. She thought of them, presented their daughters nursing swollen black babies from breast milk as Dantrell in her eyes pierced his big cock their little pink slits and fills them in his prolific niggerskoe seed. If they bear from him, then their children would become brothers to her own future babies.

At times, her sanity returned to her. How can she think about such things? She’s their mother!

No!

She is the bedding of the black master. Just a weak-willed white woman whose whole meaning of life from now on was reduced to bearing and producing his offspring. When Samantha becomes unable to conceive children in her womb, he will leave her and find other women who are younger and more healthy. Perhaps it will be her daughters. She would like this for them. In Dantrell’s strong hands, they would find happiness. But while Samantha is still able to give birth and carry babies in her belly, she will be an obedient slave. If only to enjoy this magnificent black cock inside of you for as long as possible.

She did not even notice how, with another orgasm, the forces left her along with the remnants of her mind. Then Dantrell lifted her voluptuous body in his arms and continued to drive his swollen trunk into her hot hole already in the air.

When it was his turn to discharge, he put her on the bed. This bed Samantha once shared with her husband, conceived her daughters on it. Now, on her, she was to become a mother again. Lying on her stomach with her butt raised high up, she already clearly understood that from now on her life would be completely different.

The black man, shiny with sweat, suddenly accelerated and with a triumphant cry began to lower his seed into Samantha’s womb, filling her shrinking womb with warmth.

When finished, Dantrell slowly left her body. The entrance to the vagina was now gaping with a huge unclosed hole, from which the white semen of the former slave flowed in a thick stream. With a satisfied look, he stepped aside and opened a large wardrobe that stood against the wall of the master’s bedroom. Soaked and naked, an ugly obese man with a gag in his mouth and ropes tied his arms and legs fell out of him. With eyes full of anger and despair, he gazed at his spouse lying in bed, whose rear was shamelessly puckering upward, and his legs were wide apart for a better look. The woman also looked at him, but felt absolutely nothing. As if someone was looking at her again from a cold lifeless picture.

“That’s it, Reginald,” Dantrell announced with a sense of vengeance.

The planter was sobbing and drooling pink through the gag, lying on the floor of the bedroom that had belonged to him yesterday. Taking Morris to the basement, Dantrell was not stingy to show the father of the family and his daughters, who dutifully took in themselves two or even three long black members on the first floor of the estate. Their eyes were covered with film, their bodies were covered with thick white seed. Reginald looked at Dantrell with a gaze of a devastated and defeated enemy.

And in the early morning they hanged him behind the house.

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