Buckess Vignettes

By The WAKFS, shmolnick@makkiwhip.com

Buckess: A large, dominating, muscular, amazonian African-American woman.

A Bitch for Cherrise

Cherrise smiled as she wrapped her long thick black fingers around the frightened white man's neck, satisfied that the weakling was well within her control. In her spike heels, the large young black woman towered over her teacher, who quivered and cowered as he grabbed at the buckess's muscular arms.

"Git them arms down, boy," Cherrise snapped angrily at her victim, reinforcing the point by tightening her grip on Shmolnick's neck. His face was turning quite red and he started having trouble breathing. Terrified, he dropped his arms down to his sides, his eyes wide with fear.

"Dat's better, boy," smirked Cherrise. "Now you listen to Big Cherrise carefully, boy. I ain't gonna repeat myself." She tightened her choke hold a little, laughing to herself at the sight of the weak frightened white man at her mercy. She wrapped her long powerful legs around Shmolnick's bloated midsection, squeezing him into her total control. He was wimpering now. "I be givin you a choice, boy. Either you live as mah little slave or you die free. Yo choice, boy. If you be wantin to be rid of big ol me, den I be killin you right now. I won't beat yo puny white ass or fuck you up none and you'll be free. Heh heh, you'll be fuckin' dead, but free."

Shmolnick stiffened at the strong black girl's evil words. Fear and pain filled his mind, blurring his thoughts.

"Else I let you live. You gonna be Cherrise's little white slave, thass fa sure. I be fuckin' you up real bad, yeah baby, REAL bad, every night and day. And I ain't never lettin' you go, neither. You be alive, though."

Her face darkened as Shmolnick looked up at her, pleading with his eyes. She squeezed her legs and hands very tight suddenly, and the weakling felt all the air leave him. His head started to go numb and he saw stars.

"NO ANSWER MEAN I KILL YO ASS, BOY!!!!" yelled Cherrise.

Shmolnick shook his head desperately and tried to choke out some words. Cherrise smiled and lightened her grip. "You tryin' to say somethin, boy? Whassat? I cain't here you none, heh heh."

"L-II-III-VVVE," croaked Shmolnick.

Suddenly Cherrise stopped squeezing with her legs and moved one hand from Shmolnick's neck to his curly hair. The pain moved from the sobbing man's neck and midsection to the top of his head, where the buckess's strong hand was in the process of wrapping his hair tightly around her fingers. She grabbed his tear-stained chin with her other hand and roughly forced Shmolnick to look up at her.

"Good boy. Now listen up, fool. Yo ass belong to ME, now. Now and fo'ever. You got dat?" she roughly jerked his head up and down by his hair.

"You cryin' already, boy? Ha hah, I ain't even started to beat yo ass yet. I just LOVE seein' a weak assed little white wimp cry and beg fo mercy. It makes mah black pussy all wet, you know, boy? You be real good and cry and scream and beg real good and maybe Big Cherrise let you lick her pussy. You'd like dat, wouldn't you, boy?"

Shmolnick didn't want to anger his tormenter, so he quickly nodded his head.

Cherrise suddenly removed her hand from his chin, reared back and slapped Shmolnick's face so hard that if she hadn't been holding him by his hair with her other hand, he would have fallen over. Frowning, Cherrise deftly backhanded the sobbing weakling just as hard, then tightened her grip on his hair.

"Dat's called a bitch slap, cuz you my bitch. Yeah, heh-heh, dat be yo new name, Bitch. I likes dat name for you. You like yo new name, don't you, Bitch?"

Shmolnick quickly nodded his head.

"Yeah, I knew you would. You gonna be one fine little bitch for Big Cherrise."

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Chamiqua Jones

Chamiqua Jones hated white people. As the large muscular black woman sat smoking a joint in the opulent white sofa in the even more opulent mansion, she though of how she absolutely hated white people. Men, women, children, it didn't matter what age, size, shape, religion, or economic circumstance. She hated them all. Her whole life she'd been kept down, repressed by the evil "whitey." Her daddy, a career criminal, was hunted down by whitey. Her beloved momma was abused and turned into a drug addict by whitey. Yes, Chamiqua sure did hate whitey.

Smiling to herself in a stoned daze, the black giantess crossed her considerable thighs. The worm had certainly turned, that was for sure. Chamiqua had taken her revenge on whitey, well, at least one whitey. And that whitey now lay gasping for breath beneath the negress's ample and powerful buttocks, his beaten scrawny body pressed into the plush sofa. "Mmmfff" was all the poor fool could say, and the boy's feeble attempts made Chamiqua giggle, as stoned as she was. "Yeah, dass raht baby, you be movin' you lil se'f and Chamiqua be gettin' all wet! Hee hee." She took a huge drag from the joint, sucking in nearly half of the thing, and held the smoke deep within her superhuman lungs. Finally, she let out the smoke with a satisfied "ahhh" and turned her attention to her victim.

How easy it had been to take control of the white man. She was initially hired as a cleaning woman, a demeaning hateful job that filled her with rage. And this rich little white bastard had the nerve to look at her ass and lick his lips. He hadn't known that she saw him, but her perfect vision easily spied the white fool and she became enraged. She remembered fondly how, just a week earlier, she had turned around and stared the little man down, yelling at him in her loudest, most frightening tone. She had intended only to get some verbal satisfaction out of the situation to ease her rage, but when she poked her long thick black finger at his chest, he actually fell backward a step! She hadn't noticed before how much larger she was than him. Much larger. Standing only five foot seven, the middle-aged rich man was also rather thin, but with a slight pot belly. Chamiqua, on the other hand, was six foot four and weighed over 200 pounds, all powerful muscle from years of working out on her athlete brother Jamahl's cheap weight set.

The little man's fear had filled Chamiqua with a strange intoxicating feeling. She suddenly felt so powerful, so superior to this little hite runt. A wicked smile came to her face that day one week ago, then she beat the little man. Beat him and berated him for hours until his will was gone and he lived in total fear of his black mistress. Chamiqua now owned the boy, as she liked to call him, and lived like a queen. The little fool lived in such terror of Chamiqua that he obeyed her without question. He was incredibly rich, and even now the paperwork turning his vast fortune over to her was being processed. Chamiqua was a queen.

Now, sitting on her little white slave, she wanted more. More power. More little white slaves at her beck and call. Each painful squirm of the white boy sent powerful orgasmic shivers up her wet pussy. God, did she love owning a white man. She rocked her foot back and forth, the sexy six inch heeled shoes dangling from her large brown feet. "Oh baby," she teased, slapping his exposed belly playfully but painfully, "mah feets need some attention." She raised herself up off the sofa and with one giant taloned hand, dragged the slave out from under her ass by his hair and dumped him unceremoniously on the floor by her feet. "Now git to woik, boy, else ah be gettin' mad agin. An you knows what be happ'nin when Mistress Chamiqua be gettin' mad!" The frightened slave scurried to his mistress' feet, each of which was longer than his face and nearly as wide, and started lovingly kissing and licking them. Chamiqua leaned back and smiled. "Now dis be da life fo me," she thought, and finished the joint in deep drag.