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African American Studies. Part 3

Malcolm did a pretty good job. Still, he kept a calm expression on his face. In fact, he managed to remain calm and sober in the candlelight at the Finnegan house. He even managed to remain serious as Rebecca Finnegan's mother gave him a tight, tearful hug.

Woman. Finnegan was so happy he came in. She knew it would mean a lot to her daughter. After all, he was little Rebecca Finnegan's perfect favorite teacher. He was the reason she wanted to study law after graduating.

"Which school?" He asked and wasn't at all surprised when she told him that beautiful little Rebecca Finnegan was planning on going to Harvard. It was an expensive school, but she had already received a scholarship and yes, her parents could probably afford the tuition. Rebecca Finnegan's perfect baby daddy went to Harvard to study medicine.

Yes, Mrs. Finnegan, she was a very special girl. Yes, he really liked her. In fact, she was something of a teacher's pet. He even managed to say this without smiling. Beautiful little Rebecca Finnegan has brought new meaning to the term “teacher’s favorite.”

However, he found it much harder to keep his disgusted grin to himself. The whole spectacle made him sick. Most of their small town came to support the Finnegan clan. They were all very sorry that beautiful little Rebecca Finnegan was missing.

If she were a black girl, the house would be empty. On the other hand, given the size of the city and the small black population, with the exception of Malcolm, the house could not have accommodated that many people. For the most part it was a small and incredibly wealthy city, but it also had its own small slums where the brothers hid safely and out of sight.

God, everyone was upset with perfect little Rebecca Finnegan. It's not that her family didn't have absolutely everything. They were living the American dream. They had a big house, luxury cars, and even a damn piano in the damn living room. The living room was large enough to accommodate the entire apartment where Malcolm grew up. Whatever. He rose above his family's poverty in Florida. The Browns were no longer stock traders. And besides, it's not like the Finnegans haven't had other perfect little children. There was an older brother and a younger brother. It wasn't that they couldn't spare their only daughter to make up for all the tragedies they had inflicted on his people over the centuries.

Julie Goldman even came in and that broke his concentration a little. He wondered why she came in. Julie and Rebecca weren't exactly friends. She was a few months younger than Rebecca, and although they shared common interests, especially academics, they lived in different social groups.

Well, Julie was in a different social group. Julie was in a social group. Rebecca had a swim team, a church group, and little more than a social life. This made it easier for her to fall into the trap and also increased the likelihood that Rebecca would be a virgin. It's not like he saw Julie with a serious man. Fans, yes, but not friends.

He couldn't help but watch her from the corner of his eye. Ultimately, Julie Goldman was his second choice. She barely made it to his basement. She missed out on the fun just because he hated white people a little more than Jews.

She had no idea how close she was to ending up in his basement with beautiful little Rebecca Finnegan. Hell, she might have missed her chance by just a few months. Malcolm built two cells in his basement and the second had her name on it.

He stared at her and had to stop himself from licking his lips. Julie Goldman had assets that his current pet lacked. Julie Goldman's fortune, for example, experienced a virtual collapse. Julie Goldman had a very nice bust, maybe a C cup? It was hard to say. New Englanders have always dressed very conservatively.

Malcolm liked big breasts, but who doesn't? Breasts were what his current pet was missing. Perfect little Rebecca Finnegan may have had perky 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 ​​blonde, blue-eyed white slaves. Still, he couldn't help but watch, couldn't help but imagine her screaming as he tortured those beautiful big fucking tits.

He wanted to grab her here and now. Maybe offer to drive him home just so he can make sure she gets home safe and sound. He had to talk himself out of it. It wasn't the smartest idea. It was about thinking with the member, not with the head. This would make it possible to capture him.

He really meant togetting caught. He eventually let her escape when he realized he was getting old. He let her go years later after completely destroying them both. Years later, when he was too old and they spent their youth in his basement. Then he won't have to spend too many years in prison and can tell the world why.

The press would portray him as a monster, of course, but he could tell the world why and then die in prison as an old man. Maybe he can convince others to follow his example. Perhaps he could convince his people to take up arms against their white oppressors. May be. May be. But that was still a few years away, and Julie Goldman, the Jewish Princess, maybe a few months away. He has to be smart and wait until the news storm about Rebecca Finnegan dies down and people assume she's dead.

In the end he endured the visuals, a small dinner and a little more politeness. It was hard, especially when Mrs. Finnegan begged him to speak to the press so that her captor would understand that not only her family but the entire city was grieving.

At the same time, Malcolm managed to keep a calm expression on his face and even show a few tears. It was priceless. He should have been an actor.

When he finally left, he did so with the promise that he would participate in whatever efforts the school and the ideal little parents of little Rebecca Finnegan would need. Tomorrow he was going to fly to Boston and hand out flyers with a picture of her beautiful face. Anyway, he liked the idea, it kind of turned him on. Damn, that really turned him on.

When he returned home, he made himself a cup of tea and took the time to prepare some food for his new pet. She must have been starving and dehydrated. She hadn't eaten since the last day of school over a day and a half ago.

He actually made some effort to eat them. It was quick but tasty: scrambled eggs and toast. He even sliced ​​an apple. She had to eat. She had to stay healthy. She will need her strength. For dessert, he cut open a Snickers bar and then put it all in a giant dog bowl he had picked out especially for her.

That made him laugh. He also chose a dog especially for her. Not that he was a big dog person, but he found a cute German Shepherd male who still had spunk. At this point it was strictly a street dog. He had a pretty nice backyard and the dog was a good reason to build a nice, tall picket fence. High enough to keep it away from prying eyes.

He placed the dog's bowl on the tray and poured her a glass of orange juice, followed by two more cups of herbal tea. Your throat must be sore. She's been screaming and crying a lot for the last day and a half. Tea is good for her and orange juice protects her from scurvy.

He stopped in the living room to get his shopping bag. He had to leave town to buy her clothes. It was impossible to see a single black man buying women's clothing in such a small town without people asking questions. He even paid cash just in case. There was every reason to be as careful as possible, and besides, there weren't many stores outside of Boston where little Rebecca Finnegan's new wardrobe could be perfected.

As he walked down the stairs, he heard Mrs. Finnegan's voice echoing through the dark basement. He took the time to record her heartfelt pleas for her daughter's safety and played it over and over again on the small television next to Rebecca's camera.

He vaguely wondered if it had damaged her head as much as he had hoped. He also thought about recording one of their little pranks and sending it to her parents, but couldn't figure out how to rape their daughter without ending up on video himself.

She wasn't asleep yet, but was lying on the bed with a blank and depressed expression on her face. Her head was tilted towards the television, somewhere between wakefulness and sleep. She had had a hard day and you could tell from her wet cheeks that she had cried even harder while he was gone.

Otherwise she was as he had left her. Her wrists were still bound to the headboard with custom-made leather and steel cuffs. Her face was still covered in his cum, which had been dry for over twenty-four hours. Her thighs and her little bald pussy were also covered in a mixture of his dry cum and her blood.

He tore her little hymen. He was proud of himself. He also needs to take the time to use a condom or at least stop squirting into her. The last thing he wanted was to have his pussy ripped off. The last thing he wanted was a child with white blood. Unfortunately, that's enough for him.

He placed the tray next to the camera and she watched with morbid curiosity as he undressed. First his jacket andtie. He put on a strip show. She tried to keep a strong expression on her face, but he could see the fear slowly building within her with each piece of clothing he took off.

He didn't stop until he was completely naked. He thought about going there fully clothed, but decided against it. He came to the conclusion that there was nothing scarier to a little white girl than a naked old black man.

He turned down the volume on the television, removed the key from around his neck, and unlocked the door. She watched him with a mixture of fear and exhaustion, but when he removed the necklace and keys from around his neck, she perked up. Pretty little Rebecca Finnegan did not disappoint. She was already looking for a way out. That damn Irish woman Julie would make his life easier.

He closed the door behind him and locked it again. Damn Irishman. He wouldn't take any chances with her. Not smart, stubborn, perfect little Rebecca Finnegan.

He took the tray, left his bag next to the TV and slowly walked into the small prison. She made a small noise that clearly conveyed fear, but her eyes shifted from Malcolm to the food. She must be starving. Good. If she were hungry, it would be easier to deal with.

He placed the tray on the concrete floor next to the crib, shivered a little at the cool, damp air of the basement, and then sat on the edge of the bed. He sat down the way he imagined her father would. She moved as far away from him as the restraints would allow.

"Did you miss me, my pet?" She made another soft noise and pulled away from him as he ran his strong black fingers over her beautiful white belly. Most of the scars from the previous night have already disappeared. He didn't beat her nearly as badly as he thought.

She cried again and sobbed as he moved closer to her small, perky breasts. He circled one of her swollen pink nipples and then the other, making a figure eight over her breasts 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?

"Shh," Malcolm pressed a finger to her trembling lips and slowly climbed on top of her. She let out another long, mournful moan as he began to lick her flat stomach to suck on her nipple. She started to smell, she reeked of fear and sweat.

"Because you're a beautiful white girl, Rebecca, and your ancestors were my ancestors." He got between her legs without much effort. She was too exhausted to resist.

"We-we didn't come here until after the Civil War in K-K-s-here." She begged as he pressed the tip of his cock against her bloody slit.

He had no intention of raping her again. Not yet. At first he wanted to force her to shower and eat, but seeing her sobbing, naked and helpless again was too much for him.

“It doesn’t matter,” he rammed into her as hard as he could, grunting and squirming as he tried to fit his big black cock into her tight little hole. She let out a series of painful cries as he pushed all thirteen 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.

"Oh!" She was still too tight and he thrust into her dry hole again.

“Yes!”

“You’re so damn tight!”

"Uhhh! Stop it!"

“You have a tight white pussy!”

“Eeeeeee!”

“Do you like it!”

"Yay! Please!"

"Injured!"

"Uhhh! Stop it!"

"Injured!"

"Please! Oh!"

“That fucking hurts!”

“Yeah! Yes. Oh God, yes!" on little Rebecca Finnegan's perfect white face: "Fucking white slut!" He ran his hand over her slender curves and squeezed one of her pert little breasts. “You make me sick!” He spat in her face again. “You’re a white fucking bitch!”

He pulled her hair as hard as he could. "Yes!" It felt so good inside her. "Uhhh!" Her tight little pussy hugged his big black cock. "Yow!" He could almost feel it stretching and tearing as he tried to accommodate his long, thick cock. "Uhhh!" His skin was soft and silky and comfortable to the touch. "Oh!" She was so small. “Awwwwww!” She was so perfect. “Yes-oh!” She was so beautiful. "Uhhh!" She was fucking white. “Ahhhh!!!!”

He slapped her hard in the face and tilted her head to the right. "Female dog!" He rammed his cock into her bald hole and pounded her again, turning her head to the left. "Pussy!" His balls slapped hard against her tight little ass as he pounded into her as hard as he could. "Whore! |“Yeah-oh! Ahh!” Malcolm brought his face just a few inches closer to Rebecca’s.

"I hate you!" He screamed as he pulled her hair back and rammed his cock into her again. “Fucking white cunt! I hate you all!"

"Ideal!"

"Uhhh!"

"Little!"

"Uh-uh!"

"Rebecca!"

"Ahhhh!"

"Finnegan!"

He grabbed her neck with both of his hands hands and rammed his cock into her sore little slit. "Take it!" He squeezed her throat and quickened his pace. "I fucking hate you! That's why!" He screamed just inches from her face, ramming his cock in and out of her as hard as he could. "Yes! Damned! You damn bitch! White fucking whore! Take it! You damn whore! I hate you! Damn, take it! Slut! Slut! Cunt! Damn bitch! Damn whore! It hurts! Damn bitch! Take it! Fucking cunt!” “Fucking cock! Crap! FUUUUUUCK!”

Malcolm collapsed on top of her, exhausted, sweaty and out of breath. His cock spasmed and twitched in her little slit as he released days of pent up pleasure into her abused little pussy.

He allowed himself to become gentle inside her, listening to her sobs and sniffles as he tried to catch his breath. He gave her a little shove every now and then just to hear her sigh as he waited for his boner to go away.

"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 at the bowl of food sitting on the floor. He picked it up and lifted Rebecca's butt into the air.

She let out a soft moan of protest as he inserted two fingers into her tight, hairless pussy and slowly scooped the cum and blood into the dog bowl.

“You must be hungry,” he said, stirring the little dog’s bowl. “After you eat, I’ll let you shower. You're covered in cum and you're starting stink."

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