All of them wereabout the same, fairly clean, with an attempt made to keep them that way, withindividual rooms in the back for dropping coins in the projector vendor. Therewere always men, any time of day or night that looked at the female half ofany couple in the store with a combination of hope and self-conscious aloofness.Some were presentable. They got five dollars worth of tokens and after walking through the storeto show the customers the new product that had just arrived, headed back tothe peep rooms. They walked down the dark hall to a room on the end, and wentinside after looking back down the hall to see how many potential cumdonorshad followed them. Two were standing at the corner of the hall, and eye contactsent the message that they might be lucky in the next few minutes. After closingthe door, she sat down on the vinyl couch and checked her tongue chain andball stud, and nodded at him that she was ready. A moan of anticipation escapedher lips, and a drop of spit fell. But right then and there it was perfectly normal and engaged a wholly separate cultural identity for those men.To us slaves, it meant very little. I'd suck and fuck my Master wherever and whenever he wanted me. The paradox of slavery is that it grants a level of freedom from responsibility no citizen could possibly hope to enjoy, or so I'd been taught in school and I believed it. Why wouldn't I? To accuse me of such a crime would be like blaming an automobile for speeding."Oh ho, gentlemen!" A man's loud voice interrupted the conversation, and the sex. "Does anyone want a piece of this negra cunt?"I looked to see a large, forty-something man dragging a naked black girl behind him on a leash and collar, weeping as she crawled on her hands and knees. She was black, obviously, and had recently been whipped. Her back, ass, and thighs were criss-crossed with angry welts, red and white and raised upon her dark skin. She had semen leaking from her raw pussy and anus, and her once pretty.
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