The fact that I wasn’t able to work had an immediate effect on finances, however; this was offset a little by the new father getting promoted once more and in his own words had “More stripes than a Zebra” plus he was given a further six weeks leave. Although he was based back in Dorset prior to being posted to some place called South Georgia a remote point in the South Atlantic called the Falkland Islands a place he’d return to too fight a War.
Six weeks after I’d given birth all the extra weight I’d put on was gone and the loose skin on my stomach in another three. Missing my husband was just one thing and being alone with a small baby was another which made this one of the worst times and it got even more so once the novelty of a new arrival in the family has worn off. It got to the stage I didn’t see anybody apart from the daily visits from my Mum, bless her, I don’t know what I’d have done without her. As my maternity leave was about to run out along with the last of our savings I may add. I was sat at home when I got a knock on the door which woke my son who straight away started to scream the place down. Standing there was an elderly yet imposing large man who straight away put his foot in the door stopping me from closing it. This was my first ever meeting with a Debt Collector who had just made a call to our house but hung up when I answered the phone. He told me that I owed him £20 plus another £20 “costs” as I had some flowers sent to me and they were never paid for and as I’d received them (from a local garden centre) I was now liable to pay for them plus costs. I told him to go away as I didn’t have the £40 he wanted, to which he told he'd come back the next day but it would have to be £50 as he had his costs.
I stood baby in arms shocked, the first thing I did was ring my mother to ask her advice only to be reminded my parents were in Tenerife on holiday. The next thing I did was to ring my Mother-in-law who told me not to panic she’d come over and stay. The next day three of my husband’s cousins both very large (unlike him) they were all serving in the Army as well not the Navy as my husband was they pointed out. The sight of three big men arguing who was going to push a pram with a tiny baby in it was made even funnier by a 4”10” woman telling them she’d “Box their ears if they woke her grandson up” so they drew lots instead. About 2 pm the phone rang and I answered it once again it rang off. Pretty soon afterward the door almost fell off its hinges when the debt collector hammered on it so loud it did wake my baby. I didn’t see him again as he left with the “Brothers Grim” as my husband calls them. My mother-in-law said it was best to let the men deal with these things as they knew best how to handle awful people like him. The following Wednesday I read two headlines in our local rag one which was the main one was “Horror as local Garden Centre burns down” the other inside was “Ex-Policeman found with arms and legs broken and in unconsciousness in a field” I think he gave up debt collecting after that.
Around this time maybe a little after my sister Alison now sixteen-years-old left home and moved in with her boyfriend Robert a local boy after finally having enough of my parents and most of all our father who once again was disappointed in one of his daughters. Robert had left his own home four years previously at the age of just fifteen and lived in a bedsit with a shared toilet and no bathroom. With Alison to drive him on, he soon bought a small terraced house and using his building skills learned at his job as a joiner, modified it with every “mod con” sold it and moved onto doing the same with another. He was also willing to help us with our house and fitted it patio doors and a patio to go with it.
Mainly due to the fact their house was always in some state of upheaval they were always willing to stop over at the weekends and allow us to “meet people” which I looked forward to. Rendezvous still being the favoured method of finding people although we tried some other contact mags like “Linkup and Leicester Links” but without much success. It was during this time Alison and my husband struck up a different type of relationship. I knew of course that he was fucking her on a regular basis however; neither of them ever brought up the subject at any time. I was also aware that Alison was told everything about our sex life and my “position” in it. Again Alison never brought it up or commented if she saw a Robert on my body. That said we continued to play with each other from time to time with me taking a more placid role of course.
If I wished to know about Alison in the past I’d have asked her and she would have told me without a moment’s hesitation. I’m not certain how or when that changed but all the same, it did. I think it was because of some tiny change in her nature or her maturity I can’t put my finger on it nevertheless it was there all the same. I couldn’t for some reason ask her so I asked my husband who knew everything as Alison now shared her thoughts and experiences with him rather than me. Maybe it was because of my status perhaps Alison now looked down on me, after all, I was a slag and I was even called “The Slag Susan” whatever it was it prayed on my mind for some time.
A new roof on their second house meant a period of them living with us for three months as funds for once theirs, not ours, delayed there getting one. Plus the damaged done to their house by a huge storm made matters even worse. For me, it was great because I had a built-in babysitter and somebody who could drop off my son at the childminders as I made my way to work. I wasn’t lonely either or anxious when I knew he was in Ulster or worse away on some secondment to god knows where. It was then I saw that the box we kept all the letters and photos from contacts from Rendezvous had been moved from its place at the bottom of our wardrobe and opened. When I told him about it when he rang he just laughed and said “Maybe Alison & Robert will start to advertise” little did he know.
When my son was eighteen months old a Navy Chaplin and a Marine Officer together with my Mother-in-law walked down our driveway and I thought when I saw them my world had ended. I was so scared that I was unable to get to the door and open it and all I could do was stand there and shake. As my Mother-ion-law had a key she let herself and the two officers in. They spoke but I didn’t hear what they were saying and it was only when my mother arrived I gathered that my husband was going to be OK. Somebody was in floods of tears and my son was upset and clinging to me, his sobbing and tears made me come out of the place I’d retreated to. On patrol in South Armagh with his guys, as he called them, he’d been shot in the back by an eight-year-old boy that some terrorist had given a gun and told to go out and shoot a Brit. My mother and mother-in-law were there to look after my son and I was being flown out to Belfast to be with him.
It is now easy to forget the hatred in Ireland I didn’t start to understand it until that day how a child of eight could be given a gun was alien to me. The sad thing was that six weeks later probably the same person gave the same boy another gun and gave him the same instructions, this time the tears came from the boy’s family and friends as six members of the same patrol opened fire in him hitting him over two dozen times, when I was told that I cried for him and his mother as well.
He spent ten days in an Army medical establishment outside Belfast before being moved back to a Naval Hospital in Dorset. The bullet which was lodged close to his spine was removed by surgeon who told me that in time he’d be able to sit up in bed maybe in four to six months and may be back on his feet maybe in another eighteen months but he doubted he’d even see active service again, well little did he know either. Missing our son I went back home with the social network that the Navy has looking after me and promising to be in touch. Back home my Mother-in-law told me that her son my husband was the most obstinate man on the planet and the “Brothers Grim” agreed he’d be back on his feet in no time at all besides everybody knew he couldn’t sit still for five minutes.
Six days later and not six months he was sat up in bed, a month later he was standing on his own two feet and three months after that he was walking and two more jogging. I knew him better than anybody I was and still am his wife so I knew he was in pain all the time but “Pain” he told me was “all in the mind” where had I heard that before. If there was an upside it was him being transferred to rehab at our local general and soon he was at home for a whole six months.
I do recall having my one true argument with my father at this point and screaming foul-mouthed abuse at him something I’d never done before or would ever do again. Ever the disappointed father he had to remind me he’d warned me that this may happen and that if he’d not been shot in Ireland he’d have been killed in some bar fight or jailed for life for killing somebody in one. Adding that I looked a mess and hadn’t bought myself any new clothes for months telling me “For god’s sake Susan you even cut your own hair because he can’t provide you with enough money to pay for even that.” I screamed at him to “Shut your fucking mouth you bigoted stuck ignorant piece of shit he is ten times the man you are you sniveling turd, you can fuck off” and on and on I went for ages.
It was the worst mouthful I ever gave to anybody before or since and I shocked even myself, it made my mother cry and led to an argument later with my brother. I didn’t regret it at the time and I don’t regret it now it was a vile awful thing to say to me. I meant every word I threw at him just as he did those he said about my husband. It would be accurate to say that was the changing point in my relationship with my father or more like the end of it. I collected my now two-year-old son and left the house I lived in since I’d left our village funning and threatening never to go back but my mother was still here so I knew that wasn’t going to be true.
Having my husband home and on a mission to get better before a Medical Review Board threw him out of his beloved Royal Marines was stressful, to say the least. The more he tried the more tired he got and the more frustrated and bad-tempered but not once did he raise his voice to me and was as gentle as a kitten with our son who followed him around never more than inches away from him. Weeks came and went then months slowly but steadily he got stronger and was after six months the Review Board found him fit for duty but not active service. I further Board would decide that in another six months in the meantime he would take charge of the Joint Forces Recruitment Office in Leicester just twenty miles from our house.
I would leave the house with him in the morning and make my way to work and he’d his way to the train station and go into Leicester and not only was he home each night he’d be free all weekends as well and he hated it, every single second of the time he spent in that office was purgatory for him. The worst part is when a protestor a woman came in and chained herself to his desk and swallowed the key. He removed the phone off his desk and the other desk and locked the office and left her there having put down the shutters and came home for the night. The next day when he got back the protestor was in a hell of a state, cold and stinking as without anybody to unchain her she had soiled herself and was in a hell of a state. Although he was brought up on a charge nothing came of it then again nothing ever did, nor did they have any more people chaining themselves to his desk either for that matter.
If anything his “clash” with the protestor re-invigorated him bringing out him back to his wicked self and even started to ask questions of who we’d made contact within Rendezvous of late. In fact, we’d had quite a response although because of the condition he’d been in I’d not followed a lot of them up or for that matter even read the magazine for some time. I was reading the latest copy of the contact magazine one evening when I saw an advertisement from another “Leicestershire Couple” both claimed to be dominants and so I showed him the advertisement. Smiling he told me “We’d better not answer that one” and when I asked him why as it thought he would have been interested he told me “Because it’s your sister I know that photo because I took it.” I didn’t recognise her bottom bent over a chair but on closer examination, I did the room it was our bedroom.
It is strange how history repeats itself we’d had a break for several months “seeing” other people although I had met Sue a couple of times just the two of us which he approved of. The first time we’d met anybody I found out I was pregnant now after a break just as before in the morning we were to start “wife swapping” again I found out I was again. As he was before my husband was overjoyed as well as our son and the whole of his family. However; apart from my mother and sister the rest of my family greeted the news in silence further fallout from the mouthful I’d given my father. I was happy my husband was ecstatic as was my son so if they weren’t that was up to them we didn’t care.
Once more we continued to see other people but any form of S&M was out for the duration of my pregnancy which suited me. I have never been one who craves pain or humiliation or any of the things associated with the “lifestyle” as the world I have been part of for so long now. I have always said I can “take it or leave it” as long as he was happy I am happy. Again we stopped meeting people when I was showing this time a little earlier than I had the first time. Then out of the blue we got a letter in response to an old Rendezvous advert from no other than Franklyn one of the guys who together with his cousin had given me my first and up until then only “Big Black Cock” he told us or me to be more accurate than he’d heard from Mentor that I was pregnant and as he had a thing about fucking expectant mothers he wanted to get some of me.
I was five months pregnant when he first visited us the two of them had never met before and my black visitor was expecting some small white skinny guy who was a wimp, well he got the small and white right but the skinny and wimp way wrong. That said he towered over my husband but was soon put in his place when he started to make demands. Just for a second I really thought they would cum to blows like two alpha males locking horns. Luckily Franklyn told me later that he remembered what Mentor had said to him about my “Master” and realised he wasn’t what he’d expected at all. What he was expecting was some small white wimp and what he got was a small white guy with an attitude who he remembered could back it up if he had to do so.
The arrangement was agreed and that was Franklyn could have me up until either he got fed up fucking me or it was medically unsafe to do so which it never was. My husband has lost interest in fucking me once I’d lost shape as he put it. He did, however; take an interest is seeing me used and even agreed to let Franklyn bring a friend or two if they were interested in “breeding” whites whores as long as they followed the rules. It always took place on a Sunday night after I’d put our son to bed and bless him he always went straight off. I’d bathe and dry my hair and wait quietly in my bedroom for the doorbell to ring about 9 pm then I’d put a towel around me and answer the door.
I’d them show my BBC and whoever he’d brought with him if anybody into our living room and draws the curtains. Then Franklyn would trigger me just as my Master had shown him and I’d be his until he left normally just after midnight. He’d have me stand legs apart hands on my head as he ran his fingers over my body often standing behind me rubbing his huge hands up and down my belly and making me beg for his “Big black cock” inside me over and over as he told me what a whore I was and making me agree I was a “whore, a white bitch, a piece of white filth and I wanted him in my cunt, in my arse, I wanted his cum, I wanted his spittle in my mouth” and on and on. By the time he’d decided I was humiliated enough he’d he hard, well as hard as a cock that big ever gets and I feel it up against my back. The more he made me beg the more desperate I was to have in inside me the begging may have started off as role play but I soon meant every single word of it.
The bigger I got the harder it was to take him and at eight months it was painful to have him pounding inside my arse and by this time I was only able to take him with my knees on the front of the sofa while gripping the back of it with my hands. Other times he fucks me lay on my side and lifting my legs apart to give the audience a better view of his cock going in and out of my cunt. The first time he brought another man also black I’d be seven months and it was his cousin Neil who told me I wasn’t quite large enough for his taste but fucked me all the same. One week my BBC brought not one, not two but four black men to “breed” me. I’d be eight months plus by then they weren’t as big as my BBC but they were just as verbal with me in their insults. Christmas (Boxing Day) that year I was treated to six black cocks and being taken outside onto our patio for them to piss on me playing special attention pissing into my mouth to wash down their cum and spittle barking at me the command to “drink whore” I drank as much of their piss as I could get down and willingly.
As the birth of my second child got closer and I got bigger interest in the “Bred white whore” got bigger and my BBC was never alone on his visit. I’d also get more tired and quicker but nevertheless, I wanted him and the others to be pleased with me more than anything I didn’t want them to be disappointed in me. I didn’t listen to what they said about me other than taking an interest in what I was or how well I did something or what they threw at me.
The next visit he’d told us what had been said about me and like sometimes it excited me other times like this one, one had wanted to know if I would be available to have a black baby and scared me. The questions they asked about me often were the same as they had asked when I first visited BBC at Oak Farm one was “Has she been put to a K-9?” Norval the guy who wanted to know the answer to that question was there to put it to my Master directly and was told: “No not yet, why you got something in mind?” The answer to that was yes he had and as there was no time like the present was there? Norval said his brother had a K-9 he could bring him and his friend and be there and back within an hour maybe an hour and a half and be was told to go.
I wasn’t fully cognisant of what was happening but I was aware that something was as the four men left all wanted their fuck before “it” got here. Just before Norval returned I was taken into the kitchen by my Master and remanded that once triggered he wasn’t my husband until I was told otherwise. He asked me if I wanted to please him and panic started to swell up inside me. Why had he asked me that wasn’t he pleased with me, what had I done wrong? Of course, I wanted to please him I thought I had been doing was I wrong, “yes, yes” I wanted to please him and told him so. He smiled at me and took my head in his hands, “Now, he told me, I want you to do something to please me no matter what you think I want you to do this for me no matter how hard, will you do it for me?” I wasn’t sure what he wanted but I swore “Yes Master anything, anything Master, please Master anything” and I meant every word tears flowing down my face I wanted to please him. With four loads cum seeping out of both my and down my thigh I thought was proof I had been doing now I wanted to do more if that was what he wanted.
Still naked I opened the door to Norval and let him in, with him were a large dog clearly part German Shepherd and some other breed. Straight away it started to sniff at my cunt and as anybody would I moved away. Now I realised what was going to happen, now I knew what was next in my education and now I felt sick in my stomach. I walked back into the front room of my own house barely conscious of what was happening. I remember still in the hall being told to open my legs and the dog licking me and seeing it hard pink cock for the first time as it hung down between its back legs. Taken by the arm back into the front room I was told to get on my knees and then pushed onto all fours as soon as I was, the dog got onto my back.
I was aware that it couldn’t get inside me and I felt hands touching my cunt, they fed it cock inside me and the tears started to flow. It fucked me faster than anything I’d experienced before taking my breath away and to cheers from the audience I started to wail as it fucked me. It was long and in my state (of pregnancy) it felt even longer as it fucked me I felt deep shame and humiliation, however; I was moaning due to the speed and power it was fucking me but at the same time it hurt deep inside me and I was so ashamed. It got off me and one of them opened my cunt and arse cheeks and they all took a look at the dog's cum leaking out of me. I was “a fucking slut, a whore, a game for anything white slag” and now literally “A dog fucking bitch” and I was still crying no I was sobbing out loud because of my humiliation and self-loathing. In fact, I cried as the dog mounted me again with help from its owner, I cried all the way through and as they all commented after it had cum the second time and got off. I also cried the third and fourth times it had me and for over an hour and a half, it has gone on and off me and for a long time after they had all left.
I was so tired I was unable to shower or take a bath and having closed the door to the last of them at 2 am I went straight to bed got in and fell asleep. I woke in the morning at 10 am which was late for a mother with a three-year-old to look after. However; his father had been there and brought me breakfast in bed and told me to go and shower and take things easy. I stood and looked at myself in the mirror as the water ran. My face was a mess as was my hair and body was covered in dried cum, human and dogs. I sat in the bath soaking away my shame and once again I cried no I didn’t cry I sobbed.
Less than 24 hours later I gave birth to my second child a fine healthy daughter and the proud father rang anybody who would listen to tell them the news. When he visited us in the maternity unit together with his mother he told me just about how many people he’d rung. Later he informed that Franklyn had jokingly asked him “was it black?” which he thought was funny going on to tell me that when he said it wasn’t to which Franklyn said “It could be next time” the true meaning of being bred.
I was home a couple of days after giving birth with the usual visitors my parents and family including my octogenarian grandmother as well as my mother-in-law and several of his cousins in various shades of Uniforms. Unlike my first child when I’d lost the huge majority of my “Baby fat” in a few weeks this time I’d put on a lot more and it would take twice as long to lose. Both Franklyn and his dog-owning friend had been in touch (and had in fact sent flowers) wishing to know when I’d be back in action. The normal time period was at that time and most likely still is six weeks. I explained this to Franklyn only to be told he didn’t want to wait six days never mind six weeks and he wanted to start to breed me as soon as possible.
Months and months ahead of schedule my husband surprised the Navy medical staff with his return to fitness not only had he passed their tests he’d broken his own record over the infamous obstacle course and was declared A1. So his time at the Recruitment Office was over as was his special leave so he had returned to his unit in just a couple of weeks. So with me feeling like a beached whale after giving birth less than three weeks before, I was taken one Friday night to Stoke-on-Trent for some BBC. Alison my sister was babysitting and with her already having the experience of sitting my son I should have felt at ease but I couldn’t. The house was in one of the Five Towns which made up Stoke called Burslem a less than impressive area with row after row of terraced houses including this one.
Greeted on the street I was immediately taken into a house whose door opened straight into the outside world and into the front room the only other room on that floor being the kitchen. Their sat around were five or six other men of various ages all black. One I was introduced to was Franklyn’s father, clearly a close family “Guys this is Slag the white breeding whore I told you about, enjoy” was how he introduced me. Franklyn father also called Franklyn but called just Senior wanted to inspect the bitch and I was told to take off my dress which was the only thing I wore. I stood feet shoulder-width apart, hands on the back of my head eyes firmly fixed on the ground just as I’d been taught to at Oak Farm due to a fear of punishment. The comments and insults came thick and fast instead of being proceeded by the “word” white this time it was “fat” as in “Fat bitch, fat slag, the fat bitch has a huge saggy belly, get look at them udders man feel the weight of them milk sacks man” and last but not least “Feel the size of this fat cows fucking cunt man” the tears began to form.
The first cock inside me just nineteen days after giving birth belonged to a seventy-three-year-old black guy called Franklyn Franklin Senior who gripped me by my hair forced me to my knees slapped his cock in my face and then into my mouth, with the comment “This fat whore suck a good cock.” After which he pulled me up again by my hair spun me around bent me over and pushed his cock into me with the words “Big cunt on the fat cow” the tears began to flow.
After they had all “had me” several only in my mouth and arse I was told to go upstairs and clean myself up, which I did in the bathroom as well as I could. I looked in the mirror and I looked like what they had called me a “fat whore” I had cum in my hair my makeup had run from the tears and not only were my thighs and legs huge but my stomach hung down like a sack of blubber I felt loathsome.
I was called back down the stairs and waiting for me there was Noval and his dog my humiliation was not complete. I wasn’t crying as the dog licked me and I wasn’t crying as they put my face down on the seat of an old sofa with my knees on the floor. Nor did my tears flow as I felt if climb onto me or struggle to mount me or when it was fed into me. However; I did cry when it kept falling out of me and the comments about the size of my cunt. I was in full flow as they fed it into my arse hole much to the pleasure of our audience who shouted their approval and high fived each other. As before it moved in and out of me very quickly unlike any human fast, deep and painful it came deep inside me got off but within seconds it was ready for more and mounted me and was gain fed into my arse. Four or five times this was repeated and by the time it was ended my tears had dried up and so had the sounds I’d been making which were taken for sounds of pleasure.
He returned to Dorset a few days later and I carried on with our children the youngest was just five weeks old. When she was 12 weeks old I wasn’t feeling too well and a trip to the GP and some blood tests confirmed I was once again pregnant. Like the first two times, it was a shock more so this time as I didn’t know who the father was all I knew that he was black. It registered with me straight away even as the doctor was telling me how common it was for this to happen. When he rang he told me not to worry about it and he’d take care of everything. As good as his word I was booked into a clinic in Birmingham and after an overnight stay I returned home having had my first abortion.
to be continued....