by Londyn Skye
“This room is yours,” Atticus explained to Bella, as he opened the double doors of a massive bedroom, one that was equal in magnificence to a royal suite. He guided her to a queen size canopy bed draped with white sheer curtains. It was decorated in extravagant custom-made linens, and an array of soft pillows. “This bed’ll be yours,” he told her. “These are yours as well,” he said, pointing to a basket of soaps, lotions, and sponges placed neatly on the bench at the end of her bed. Atticus then promptly left without another word.
Bella looked down at the basketful of soaps and sponges and wanted to use them to scour herself while submerged in a bathtub full of scalding hot water. But she felt so heavy with grief that her knees became weak. She suddenly collapsed and sat with her back against the nightstand. She pulled her legs up to her chest, buried her face between her knees, and began sobbing uncontrollably.
“Oh, hush up all that damn cryin’, girl!”
Startled, Bella suddenly lifted her tear-soaked face to find a fair-skinned Negro woman with a neatly styled, reddish-brown afro, glaring at her from across the room. The woman had a flawless milky complexion that looked soft to the touch, the sort that begged to be caressed by a man. She was sitting on the bench near her own bed, with one leg slung over the other in a suggestive pose, exuding a sexual seductiveness that seemed natural to her. Bella’s eyes were suddenly drawn to one of the woman’s long toned legs, as it peeked out from the slit in the erotic dress she was wearing. Following the line of the slit, Bella then surveyed her body, slowly raising her head until she locked eyes with the exotic woman. Her bedroom eyes were glaring at Bella over the top of the wine glass she was sipping from. Bella recalled she was the same woman who had smirked at her on the way in. She had been so lost in her own sorrowful world this time, though, that she had not even noticed the woman had been sitting there the whole time.
Bella’s sniffling and trembling continued as the pair stared at each other.
“I said, hush up all that damn cryin’!” the woman demanded again, uncrossing her legs and leaning forward as she spoke this time.
The woman’s scolding tone and icy glare suddenly made Bella feel foolish for crying. She huffed and angrily wiped the tears off her face.
“That’s betta’.” The woman took another sip of her wine and relaxed back into her seductive pose. “So, you’re Bella, huh?”
Bella nodded.
“Well, I’m Ryla. Now, get ya’ ass up off the floor and sit in that bed. You look like a damn fool sittin’ there shiverin’ like a little mouse.”
Bella did not budge. Her tears suddenly erupted again. “That d-disgustin’ m-man just had me tied up, forcin’ himself on me! Don’t you th-think that g-gives me g-good r-reason to be cr-cryin’?!” she replied, nearly hyperventilating.
“Maybe. But I can certainly think of far worse things worth cryin’ ova’,” Ryla replied calmly, taking another sip of her wine.
“What?!” Bella fired back, stunned by her dismissive reply.
“Hell, he didn’t have to tie you up. You shouldn’t’ve resisted. Should ‘a just gave ’em what he wanted.”
Bella tilted her head to the side and her mouth fell open. “A-are you mad?! Or has that d-disgustin’ man brainwashed you?!”
“Get yo’ ass up off the floor, sit on that bed, and at least throw your insults while you’re lookin’ at me eye to eye!”
“I don’t wanna sit in that d-despicable m-man’s bed!”
“She’s just fine on the floor!” another woman suddenly interjected. Startled, yet again, Bella quickly swiveled her head to the right to find the woman suddenly springing from her bed. She took a few steps toward Bella, lowered her eyelids, and threw her hands on her hips. “Why’d Atticus have to buy her any damn way?! We don’t need no mo’ slaves in here! And I certainly don’t want her sleepin’ next to me!”
“Oh, shut up and get the hell outta’ here, Lola!” Ryla demanded. “Don’t nobody give a damn what you want!”
Lola glared at Bella a moment longer and then stormed out of the room.
Ryla turned back to Bella. “Don’t pay that crazy heffa’ no mind. She’s always findin’ some petty reason to bitch and moan about every new girl that comes here. She wants Atticus all to herself. She used to be his numba’ one pick every night, but he don’t hardly glance at ’er anymore. She’s angry all the time now. I s’ppose she done fell in love with his stankin’ ass. For the life of me, I can’t unda’stand why. Turns my stomach every time he drops his pants and turns his cock loose. Smells like rotten goat cheese to me! Don’t matta’ how much that man bathes and douses himself with cologne, his natural body odor ova’powa’s it, and has him reekin’ of sweaty ass on a hot summa’ day.”
Bella thought she was just imagining Atticus’s odd pungent odor. At the time, she could not remember what it reminded her of. She realized that Ryla’s goat cheese comparison was spot on.
“But to each his own, I guess,” Ryla continued. “What one thinks smells like sweaty ass, anotha’ inhales as the fresh scent ‘a cologne.” Ryla’s sarcastic rhetoric suddenly eased the tension in the room. She took another sip of wine, then lifted a finger from the glass, and pointed at the bed. “Now I said, get up and get yo’ defiant ass in that bed.”
Bella angrily wiped her tears again and reluctantly sat on the edge of the bed with a scowl on her face. She folded her arms across her chest and refused to look in Ryla’s direction.
“At least listen while you sittin’ ova’ there poutin’.” Ryla drank the last of the wine in her glass and got up to refill it. “You need to find a way to deal with the scent of ol’ goat cheese, Atticus,” she said, as she poured herself more wine.
Bella whipped her head around and glared at Ryla. “I don’t wan-”
“Shut up, girl!” Ryla interjected, quickly swiveling her head toward Bella. “Close that hole in your face and just listen!” She sat back down and continued to glare coldly at her. “Every new girl walks in here quiverin’ just like you, sittin’ ova’ there thinkin’ to themselves, how can I escape this place? How can I stop this stankin’ ass man from forcin’ himself on me every night? There’s just gotta be a betta’ life for me than this? I’m quite sure there is a betta’ life for a Negro woman out there, but you’d be hard pressed to find it while you’re a slave.
“Trust me, Bella, I get it. I unda’stand the initial urge to escape this place. Don’t no woman wanna spend ’er life bein’ forced to submit to a man she don’t love. Hell, ’specially one she can’t hardly stand the smell of! But Atticus believes in givin’ the finest to all his illegally purchased whores. Most masta’s would have you workin’ in a filthy field in the blazin’ hot sun, or in the house takin’ care of his little demons, scrubbin’ his floors, washin’ his nasty ass unda’wear, and cookin’ his meals, while you damn near starve. Some’ll even strip ya’ bare, and whip ya’ half to death when they’re angry, and then have the audacity to fuck ya’ while ya’ still bleedin’, ‘cause the sight of your naked ass done made his cock hard! Ol’ goat cheese, Atticus, ain’t nothin’ like that. He’s eccentric as all hell. He’s certainly got bizarre fetishes … and that goddamn awful odor! But he’s incredibly particular about the way he treats his slaves. He’s possessive and greedy. He don’t want nobody touchin’ his whores. He even wants us healthy and clean. Lemme guess, he’s already put you in the hands of a doctor, a dentist, a seamstress, and a slew nurses?”
Bella nodded.
“Mm-hmm, I ain’t surprised. His bizarre fetishes lead ’em to do things that no otha’ masta’ would eva’ waste his money on. He’ll dress you in fine clothin’, feed you the finest cuisine, and drown you with fine wines,” she said, pausing to take a sip of that very wine. “You’ll have the softest threads wrappin’ your body at night, on that custom-made mattress you’re ova’ there poutin’ on! And you can even bathe as often as you want. That’s ’cause Mr. Goat Cheese wants fresh clean pussy to slide his cock into, and soft skin to glide his stankin�
�� body across. Those same doctors, dentists, and seamstresses you met will be back here dotin’ on you every single year. Like clockwork, his crew of money-hungry minions will be here caterin’ to us, like we’re a goddamn harem of princesses. Mr. Goat Cheese needs eye candy. He wants to see to it that our teeth always sparkle like fine china, that our pussies are always in fuckable shape, and that we’re always adorned in the sort ‘a custom made dresses and lingerie that’ll keep his decrepit cock solid as a rock! But his motives don’t fuckin’ matta’ to me! The fact is that we reap the rewards of his bizarre fetishes!
“But Atticus only spends that kind ‘a money to cater to slaves that he feels are worth it. He quickly gets rid ‘a the ones who ain’t. He must’ve liked yo’ pussy a lot to give you Clara’s old bed. She was his favorite fuck. Seemed to wanna fuck that girl mornin’, noon, and night. She had him walkin’ around here with his cock as hard as sixteen-year old boys.”
“Well, I’d be just fine with ’em gettin’ rid ‘a me!” Bella defiantly replied.
“I unda’stand why you might feel that way. It’s neva’ a glorious thing to open your legs to some strange man, when you don’t want to. I certainly ain’t tryna make light of a man forcin’ himself on a woman. No matta’ how well you’re treated, it’s evil … always evil. But I can assure you this is the beautiful side of evil, compared to the ugly shit that damn near every slave woman is bound to suffa’ in her life. Trust me … I know.”
“I don’t care! I hope he gets rid ‘a me! Today!”
“Oh, you think that’d be best, huh?”
“I know so! I don’t care about no fancy clothes and fine doctors!” Bella angrily replied, her tears starting to flow again. “I don’t wanna be tied to a bed against my will with that man crawlin’ all ova’ me every night!”
Ryla snickered, shook her head, and took another sip of her wine. “Oh, you gonna be one ‘a those, huh? Defiant, hard-headed, think you fuckin’ know it all. Got your nose turned so high up in the air that you can’t see the truth when it’s right in front of ya’. Got your ears plugged so tight that you can’t hear the truth when it’s bein’ screamed at ya’! You can be a defiant fool if you want to. But I’m tellin’ ya, if you don’t find a way to tolerate and satisfy Atticus Atkins, you’ll end up in a place that would make you wanna crawl back here on your hands and knees and beg to suck his cock! That’s a guarantee!”
“I can’t imagine anything that would make me that desperate!”
“Well, since you can’t imagine it, lemme paint it for you in pretty colors,” Ryla sneered, lowering her eyelids. “Atticus’ll sell you straight to a whore house, just as sho’ as his ass stanks! That’s where all his disappointments go. And he’ll sell ya’ there in a heartbeat! I’ve seen ‘em do it, time and time again … some right afta’ his first test ride. Atticus’s leftova’s sell for top dolla’ in a whore house. It’s like his way of gettin’ back at ya’ for wastin’ his money. Figures you gonna do what he purchased you for one way or anotha’ … whetha’ it’s with him or a whole slew ’a filthy pigs!
“Atticus may smell like rotten goat cheese, but in a whore house, I can promise ya’, you’ll be smellin’ and dealin’ with far worse. In this pristine mansion, there’s only one man fuckin’ you every night, instead ‘a dozens! In a brothel, you’ll have an endless flow of filthy stankin’ men crawlin’ inside ‘a ya’, smellin’ like they ain’t touched bath wata’ in months! Their breath smellin’ like they eat shit for breakfast, lunch, and dinna! They don’t give a damn about protectin’ themselves eitha’, so you’re bound to wind up spittin’ out some stankin’ ass man’s baby! And your guess about who the daddy is will be as good as the tiny face starin’ back at ya’. That’s only if you weren’t too drunk to recall the faces of the hundreds that done fucked ya’! If you’re one of the lucky ones who can’t bear children, then it’ll eventually be some god-awful disease they ejaculate into yo’ body. You’ll pull your unda’garments down one day, catch a whiff, and swear you just shit yo’self. Won’t take ya’ long to realize it’s actually the smell ‘a yo’ pussy, rottin’ away from the inside out!”
Ryla smirked when she saw the look on Bella’s face instantly transition into one of pure disgust. But still, Ryla was far from finished. “Mm-hmm, keep up that defiant bullshit and that’ll be your life. If you ain’t willin’ to satisfy Atticus’s needs, he’ll drop you off at a brothel, and ride off to handpick himself anotha’ whore to suck his cock, and sleep on that custom made mattress you sittin’ there shiverin’ on.”
Ryla took a moment to examine Bella’s body. “Long legs, round ass, curvy hips, cocoa-colored skin, supple titties, and long soft hair. Those whore house owna’s would be salivatin’ the minute they lay eyes on you. I’m certain they wouldn’t even botha’ to negotiate Atticus’s price demands down. They’d pay him whateva’ he wants, knowin’ they’d have a line of filthy old men wrapped around the buildin’ willin’ to pay top dolla’ to fuck a pretty young thang like you.
“So, it might seem like the worst thing on earth to be trapped here, but this is paradise compared to the hell that Atticus Atkins won’t hesitate to cast you into. So, I highly advise you to use your body to your advantage. Slave nigga’s like us ain’t got money, but we got somethin’ far more valuable between our legs. When I realized that, I stopped whinin’ about men that wanted to fuck me and started appreciatin’ the powa’ of my pussy.
“My last masta’ had fifteen kids, eight of ‘em girls, five of ‘em menstruatin’. I’s assigned laundry duty while I’s livin’ there, and I got sick ‘a washin’ all them damn bloody unda’garments. Hell, I don’t wanna wash my own bloody unda’wear, let alone somebody else’s! But there I was, week afta’ week, scrubbin’ them nasty thangs. I’d have a pail full ‘a red wata’ by the time I’s done. My nails always seemed to be a permanent shade ‘a pink. Shit had me nauseated by the time I’s finished. I’s willin’ to do anything, and I do mean anything, to neva’ have to submerge my hands in a pail full ‘a piss, shit, and blood eva’ again. Bein’ the simple fuckers that men are, I knew exactly what it would take to get outta doin’ that damn laundry. As horny as my masta’ was all the time, I knew that racist bastard wouldn’t hesitate to fuck me if I let ’em. Even a man as racist as him wasn’t gonna pass up good pussy, no matta’ what color it was. And I was right. It didn’t take but a moment alone with ’em in the barn and the sight ‘a my naked body. I fucked ’em good that night and damn near every night thereafta’. I’m convinced I fucked the racism right outta his dark heart. His old racist ass even had the nerve to wanna cuddle up with me afta’ward, goin’ on and on about his life troubles, like I really wanted to hear that bullshit. But I took the opportunity to tell ’em my troubles too…” Ryla took another sip of her wine and smirked. “I haven’t touched a pair ‘a bloody unda’wear eva’ since.
“That simple laundry situation made me see with such clarity how much powa’ pussy really has. That revelation changed my life. I realized that the men who had forced themselves on me in the past were nothin’ but weak pieces ‘a shit who yearn for powa’, but don’t possess the ability to achieve it. They’ve walked around their whole life wishin’ women didn’t recoil at the sight and smell of ‘em. I’s convinced they stole pussy from me because they knew they could neva’ have a woman like me otha’wise. So, from then on, I refused to let any man break me. Instead, I take pity on ’em, because I realize that they’re the ones who’re broken.
“If every woman unda’stood the powa’ their pussies possessed, they’d all realize that it’s really us who truly rule this world, and everything in it. Men think they control us when it’s really us who literally have them by the balls. Men are delusional enough to think they want money and powa’, for the sake ‘a money and powa’. But, subconsciously, their ultimate goal is to attract as much pussy as humanly possible befo’ they die. They’re too stupid to realize that they ain’t nothin’ but a bunch ‘a mindless ejaculatin’ morons, lookin’ to m
ake a deposit in every pussy open for business. From the time they wake up, ’til the time they go to bed, fuckin’ is all that dominates their minds. Men wanna fuck! And they’ll do anything for pussy! Pussy drives a man to be rich and powa’ful, just to ensure they have access to plenty of it! They work long hours to pay for their pussy. They plow fields to feed their pussy. Every nail a man hammers into a house is to have a nice warm place to keep his pussy. Men start wars and fight ova’ pussy. They’ll steal it when they can’t have it or drop to their knees and cry like a bitch when their woman gives it to anotha’. Pussy even has the powa’ to heal a man. He won’t need no doctors or preachers prayin’ for ’em. Don’t matta’ what’s ailin’ ’em, if you fuck a man right, it’ll be the only medicine he eva’ needs. And hell, if he is about to die, I’m quite sure he’d prefer it be with his wrinkled cock crammed into a pussy, so he can be fucked to death.
“Men are simply bred to fuck! They have strong backs, strong hands, strong bodies … but weak minds. They’re easily controlled by that ugly appendage danglin’ between their legs. The minute their cocks gets hard, it instantly robs ’em of every ounce of intelligence and common sense in their pea brains. And us women should be wise enough to use that weakness to our advantage.” Ryla paused, squinted, and pointed at Bella. “That’s exactly what I’d encourage your defiant ass to do! Betta’ start thinkin’ of yo’ pussy like a horse’s reins. We’re in the driva’s seat, guidin’ men to do whateva’ the hell we want ’em to do.
