Malcolm had done a fairly decent job. He had kept a straight face despite himself. In fact, all through the candle light visual at the Finnegan house he had managed to keep a calm and sober persona. He had even managed to keep a straight face when Rebecca Finnegan’s mother gave him a tight and tear-filled hug.
Mrs. Finnegan was so happy that he had stopped by. She knew it would mean a lot to her daughter. He was, after all, perfect little Rebecca Finnegan’s favorite teacher. He was the reason why she wanted to go to law school when she graduated.
“Which school?” He had asked and wasn’t at all surprised when she told him that perfect little Rebecca Finnegan had intended to attend Harvard. It was an expensive school, but she was already working on scholarships and, yes, her parents could certainly afford the tuition. Perfect little Rebecca Finnegan’s perfect little father had gone to Harvard to study medicine.
Yes, Mrs. Finnegan, she was a very special girl. Yes, he liked her very much. She was, in fact, something of a teacher’s pet. He had even managed to say it without cracking a smile. Perfect little Rebecca Finnegan brought new meaning to the term “teacher’s pet.”
He did, however, have a much harder time keeping his sneers of disgust to himself. The entire spectacle made him sick to his stomach. Most of their small town had come out to give the Finnegan clan their support. They were all so sorry that perfect little Rebecca Finnegan had gone missing.
If she had been a Black girl, the house would have been empty. But then, given the size of the town and where the little Black population, Malcolm excluded, lived, the home wouldn’t have been able to fit so many people inside. For the most part it was a small and obscenely wealthy town, but it did have its little slum, where the Brothers were safely tucked away out of sight.
Christ, everyone was upset about perfect little Rebecca Finnegan. It wasn’t like her family didn’t have absolutely everything. They were living the American dream. They had a big house, they had luxury cars, there was even a fucking piano in the fucking living room. The living room, it was big enough to fit the entire apartment that Malcolm had grown up in.
Whatever. He had risen above his family’s poverty in Florida. The Browns weren’t sharecroppers any more. And besides, it wasn’t like the Finnegan’s didn’t have other perfect little children. There was an older and a younger brother. It wasn’t like they couldn’t spare their only daughter to pay him back for all the tragedy they had inflicted on his people over the centuries.
Julie Goldman had even stopped by and that had proved to break his concentration a little. He wondered why she had stopped by. Julie and Rebecca were not exactly friends. She was a few months younger than Rebecca and though they shared the same, primarily academic, interests they hung out in different social groups.
Well, Julie hung out in a different social group. Julie hung out in a social group. Rebecca had her swim team and her church group and not much more of a social life. It made her easier to snag, and it also made Rebecca more likely to be a virgin. Not that he had seen Julie with any serious boyfriend. Admirers, yes, but not boyfriends.
He couldn’t help but watch her out of the corner of his eye. Julie Goldman was, after all, his second choice. She had only missed being in his basement by a breath. She had only missed out on the fun because he hated whites a little more than he hated Jews.
She had no idea how close she came to ending up in his basement along with perfect little Rebecca Finnegan. Shit, she might have only missed the chance by a few short months. Malcolm had made two cells in his basement and the second did have her name on it.
He caught himself leering at her, and once he had to stop himself from licking his lips. Julie Goldman did have assets that his current pet lacked. Assets as in, Julie Goldman had an actual bust. Julie Goldman had a very nice bust, C-cups maybe? It was hard to tell. New Englanders always dressed so conservatively.
Malcolm liked ample breasts, what man didn’t? Breasts were something that his current pet was lacking. Perfect little Rebecca Finnegan might have pert round breasts, but Julie had nice big tits. Her tits made up for the fact that she had brown hair and eyes and Malcolm really liked the idea of blond haired blue eyed white slave girls. Still, he couldn’t help staring, he couldn’t help imagining how she would scream when he tortured those nice big fucking tits.
He had half a mind to grab her right then and there. Maybe offer her a ride home, you know, just so he could make sure she made it home safe and sound. He had to talk himself out of it. That wasn’t the most prudent idea. That was thinking with his cock and not with his head. That would get him caught.
He did intend on getting caught. Eventually he would let them escape, when he knew he was getting too old. He’d let them go years down the line, after he had completely destroyed both of them. Years later when he was too old and they wasted their youth in his basement. By that point in time he wouldn’t have too many years to spend in prison and he could tell the world why.
The press would, of course, paint him as a monster, but he could tell the world why and then die in prison an old man. Maybe he could convince others to follow his lead. Maybe he could convince his people to take up arms against their white oppressors. Maybe. Maybe. But that was still years down the line and Julie Goldman, the Jewish princess was maybe months down the line. He’d have to be smart and wait until the Rebecca Finnegan news storm blew over and people wrote her off as dead.
In the end, he stayed through the visual, through the little dinner, and just a little longer to be polite. It was hard, especially when Mrs. Finnegan begged him to talk to the press, that way, you know, her kidnapper would understand that it wasn’t just her family, but the entire town that was grieving.
Malcolm managed to keep a straight face through that as well and even fake a few tears. It was priceless. He should have been an actor.
When he finally did leave, he did it with the promise that he would take part in whatever efforts the school and perfect little Rebecca Finnegan’s perfect little parents needed. Tomorrow he was going to drive to Boston and hand out flyers with her perfect little face plastered all over them. Whatever, he liked the idea, it sort of turned him on. Hell, it really turned him on.
When he got back home he made himself a cup of tea and took the time to make his new pet something to eat. She had to be starving and dehydrated. She hadn’t eaten anything since her last day of school, over a day and a half ago.
He actually put some effort into her meal. It was fast, but good, scrambled eggs and toast. He even chopped up an apple. She needed to eat. She needed to keep healthy. She was going to need her strength. He chopped up a Snickers bar for desert and then pushed it all into an oversized doggy bowl he had picked up just for her.
It made him laugh. He had also picked up a dog just for her. Not that he liked dogs all that much, but he found a nice male German Shepard that still had its balls. At the moment it was strictly an outdoor dog. He had a nice enough backyard and the dog was a good reason to build a nice high stockade fence. Just high enough to shield it from prying eyes.
He set the doggy bowl on the tray and poured her a glass of orange juice and then two more mugs of herbal tea. Her throat must be sore. She had done a lot of screaming and crying in the past day and a half. The tea would be good for her and the orange juice would keep her from scurvy.
He stopped, in the living room, to pick up the shopping bag. He had to drive out of town to buy her something to wear. A single Black man couldn’t be seen shopping for women’s clothes in such a small town without people asking questions. He had even paid in cash, just in case. There was every reason to be as careful as possible, and besides, outside of Boston, there weren’t many shops that catered to perfect little Rebecca Finnegan’s new wardrobe.
He heard Mrs. Finnegan’s voice echoing through the dark basement as he made his way down the stairs. He had taken the time to record her heart-felt plea for her daughter’s safety and left it on repeat on a little TV just outside Rebecca’s cell.
He wondered vaguely if it fucked with her head as much as he hoped it would. He was also toying with the idea of recording one of their little escapades and sending it to her parents, but he couldn’t figure out a way to rape their daughter and not be in the video himself.
She was still awake, well, she was laying on the cot with a vacant and depressed expression on her face. Her head tilted towards the television, somewhere between awake and asleep. She had a rough day and it was clear from her wet cheeks that she had cone some more sobbing while he was away.
Otherwise, she was just the way he had left her. Her wrists were still bound to the headboard with his custom made leather and steel shackles. Her face was still coated with his cum, now over twenty-four hours dry. Her thighs and her bald little pussy were also coated with a combination of his dry cum and her blood.
He had shattered her little hymen. He was proud of himself. He would also have to take the time to start using a condom, or at least stop cumming inside of her. The last thing he wanted was to knock the cunt up. The last thing he wanted was a child with white blood in it. He already, regrettably, had enough of that himself.
He set the tray down outside the cell and she watched him with morbid curiosity as he stripped off his clothes. First his jacket and tie. He made a show out of undressing. She tried to keep a strong face, but he could see the fear slowly rising in her with each article of clothing he removed.
He didn’t stop until he was completely naked. He had toyed with the idea of going in there fully clothed but thought better of it. He had concluded that there would be nothing more frightening to a little white girl than a buck naked old Black man.
He turned down the volume of the TV, took the key off from around his neck, and unlocked the door. She had been watching him with mingled fear and exhaustion, but the moment he took the necklace and keys off his neck she had perked up. Perfect little Rebecca Finnegan didn’t disappoint. Even now she was looking for her way out. The fucking Irish, Julie would have made things so much easier on him.
He shut the door behind him and locked it once more. Fucking Irish. He wasn’t about to take any chances with her. Not smart, stubborn, perfect little Rebecca Finnegan.
He picked up the tray, leaving the bag outside by the television, and slowly entered the little prison. She made a little noise that was clearly fear, but her eyes had switched from Malcolm to the food. She must be starving. Good. If she was hungry she’d be easier to deal with.
He sat the tray on the concrete floor by the cot, shivered a little in the cool air, damp, basement air, and then sat down on the end of the bed. He sat down just like he imagined her father might. She moved as far away from him as the bindings would allow.
“Did you miss me, my pet?” She made another small noise and shied away from him as he stroked his strong black fingers over her beautiful white stomach. Most of the welts from the night before had already faded. He hadn’t beaten her nearly as bad as he thought he had.
She was crying, again, sobbing, by the time he made his way up to her pert little breasts. He circled one of her puffy pink nipples, and then the other, making a figure-eight over her chest as he watched her cry. He grabbed one of her breasts and teased her nipple with his thumb.
“W-w-why?” Rebecca managed to ask through her sobs. “W-w-why?”
“Shhh,” Malcolm pressed his finger against her quivering lips and slowly climbed back on top of her. She let out another long, grief filled moan as he licked his way up her flat stomach to suck on her nipple. She was starting to smell, she was starting to stink of fear and sweat.
“Because you’re a pretty white girl, Rebecca, and your ancestors used to own my ancestors.” He worked his way between her legs without much effort. She was far too exhausted to put up much of a fight.
“W-w-we didn’t get h-h-h-here until af-f-fter the C-C-civil W-w-w-ar.” She begged as he pressed the tip of his cock against her abused and bloody slit.
He hadn’t planned on raping her again. Not yet. He was going to make her shower and eat first, but seeing her sobbing and naked and helpless again was too much for him.
“That doesn’t matter,” He thrust himself into her as hard as he could, grunting and twisting as he fought to shove his big Black cock into her tight little hole. She let out a series of pained screams as he worked all thirteen-fat-inches into her tight little pussy.
“Look at me!” He grabbed her head with both hands and forced her to look at him. He thrust into her again, as hard as he could.
“Ah!” She was still almost too tight and he rammed himself into her dry little hole again.
“Yeow!”
“You’re so fucking tight!”
“Ahhh! Stop it!”
“You got a tight white pussy!”
“Eeeaaahhh!”
“Do you like it!”
“Yeouch! Please!”
“Does it hurt!”
“Ahhh! Stop it!”
“Does it hurt!”
“Please! Ouch!”
“Does it fucking hurt!”
“Yeeoww! Yes. Oh God yes!”
“Good!” Malcolm grabbed a handful of her strawberry blonde hair and yanked her head back. She screamed as he thrust his cock into her.
“Ahhh!”
He haucked back a mouthful of snot and spat in perfect little Rebecca Finnegan’s perfect white face. “Fucking white bitch!” He ran his hand up her subtle curves and squeezed one of her pert little breasts. “You people make me sick!” He spat in her face again. “You fucking white, fucking bitch!”
He yanked her hair as hard as he could. “Yeow!” It felt so good inside of her. “Ahhhh!” Her tight little pussy hugged his big, Black cock. “Yeouch!” He could almost feel it stretching and tearing to accommodate his long fat member. “Ahhhhh!” He skin was soft and silky smooth, a pleasure to touch. “Ouch!” She was so little. “Oouuaaahh!” She was so perfect. “Yeow-ouch!” She was so beautiful. “Ahhhh!” She was so fucking white. “Ahhhhhhh!!!!!”
He slapped her hard across her face, snapping her head to the right. “Bitch!” He rammed his cock into her bald little hole and slapped her again, snapping her head to the left. “Cunt!” His balls slapped hard against her tight little ass as he slammed himself into her as hard as he could. “Whore!
“Yeow-ouch! Ahhh!” Malcolm brought his face inches from Rebecca’s.
“I hate you!” He screamed as he yanked her hair back and rammed his cock into her again. “Fucking white cunt! I fucking hate all of you!”
“Perfect!”
“Ahhh!”
“Little!”
“Ehhh!”
“Rebecca!”
“Ahhhh-ouch!”
“Finnegan!”
He grabbed her neck with both hands and plowed his cock into her pained little slit. “Take it!” He squeezed her throat and picked up his pace. “I fucking hate you! That’s why!” He screamed, inches from her face as he pounded his cock in and out of her as hard as he could. “Yeah! Fucking take it! You fucking bitch! You white fucking whore! Take it! You fucking slut! I hate you! Fucking take it! Bitch! Whore! Cunt! Fucking Bitch! Fucking Whore! Does it hurt! Fucking bitch! Take it! Fucking Cunt! Cunting Fuck! FUCK! FUUUUUUUUUCK!”
Malcolm collapsed on top of her, exhausted, sweaty, and out of breath. His cock spasmed and twitched in her little slit as he emptied a days worth of pent up lust inside of her abused little pussy.
He let himself grow soft within her as he listened to her sob and sniffle and try to catch her breath. He gave her the occasional little thrust, just to hear her gasp as he waited for his hard-on to fade.
“That’s why,” Malcolm said as he pulled his cock out of her and sat back down on the edge of the bed.
He grinned as he looked down at the bowl of food on the ground. He picked it up and lifted Rebecca’s ass into the air.
She let out a little moan of objection as he shoved two fingers into her tight bald pussy and slowly scooped the cum and blood into the doggy bowl.
“You must be starving,” he said as he mixed up the little doggy bowl. “After you eat, I’ll let you take a shower. You’re covered with cum & you’re starting to stink.”