This particular story is expanded from a short vignette found in The Logic of My Anger: A Sociopath’s Tale. The woman in the hotel room has been unknowingly
subjugated by her psychopathic boyfriend; she has unwittingly allowed him to begin
destroying her life. She is manipulated
into entering the hotel room where she has been set up to be sexually tortured
and repeatedly raped, and then discarded by her rapists when she is no longer
of value.
The Hotel Room
I am
the punishment of God. If you had not
done great sins, God would not have sent a punishment like me down on you.
-Genghis
Khan
If
someone betrays you once, it’s their fault; if they betray you twice, it’s your
fault.
-Eleanor
Roosevelt
How She’d Turned Her Life Around or No Matter
What Happened, She Remained A Hopeless Optimistic
She was a
strikingly beautiful woman: high cheekbones sharp enough to eat off of,
straight aristocratic nose and full red lips.
Her skin was tight and clear of blemishes, and about the only sign of
her true age were a few tiny lines around her eyes that might not have been
there a couple of decades ago. Her
longish, blue-black hair only accentuated her large almond-shaped blue
eyes. And she was also beautiful in the
way that only women with a measure of maturity could be beautiful. Not like in a fashion magazine, and certainly
not like a model. There was a quality of
realness here; an authenticity only hinted at which led you to feel you might
just as easily meet her at a supermarket or church or at the PTA.
Long
and lean as a horsewoman, she had the bold face of a beautiful explorer and
what men often mistook as the cool, calculating eyes of a risk-taker. It was obvious that she was comfortable with
her beauty and there was something deeply erotic in the way she moved without
any trace of self-consciousness. She had
an almost boyish, yet obviously feminine figure that retained a remarkably tiny
waist even after bearing a child. Every
man that saw her was reminded of a tom-boy grown to womanhood, her sexuality
swimming mysteriously beneath the surface…and she was all the more desirable to
every man for that.
Widowed almost
twenty years ago, at thirty-eight the still unmarried woman had raised one son
by herself. Ever aware of appearances,
she had avoided even the hint of scandal or impropriety and become a pillar of
her community…..up until the last few months, that is. She regularly attended church and was on
numerous neighborhood committees. In
normal times she could something of a bitch, this woman with the cool
don’t-fuck-with-me eyes and a magnetism that every man could not help but
feel.
But not now,
not at this moment.
Just when she
was entering what was should have been one of the best periods in her life,
everything she had ever believed in, everything she had ever worked for, had
ever wanted, it had been destroyed almost overnight, right before her
disbelieving eyes.
Several months
ago she’d been with her young lover. Being
with him, accepting his money for sex had been a mistake from the beginning,
but after the first couple of assignations, she hadn’t cared about the money anymore
because she realized that she had begun to really care about him.
The realization had been shocking, but the honest truth was that the more
time spent with him after that, the happier she was and the more she realized just
how much she had begun to…love…him.
She had at first
somewhat reluctantly begun her affair with the twenty-year old son of a
neighbor and good friend only for the money that he would give her. But as this had begun to blossom into
something much deeper for her, she had tried to deny it, deny her growing
feelings for him. Because of pride, she
had done her best to keep the affair a secret, not wanting to become one of
those loose “older” women who were the subject of unending gossip, who
diminished themselves through scandal and scandalous behavior, especially with
men young enough to be their own child.
But now, here
she was, with everything tumbling out of control. Deep inside, Kate knew she had been raised
far too better than to allow this, her mother would have been so ashamed. But still, she continued seeing him, and she
watched helplessly as tolerance turned to like, like to care, and finally,
caring turned to love. Love was what had
been missing for so long in her life, and when it finally came a second time,
when she could finally force herself to open her heart to it, this second
chance at love changed her whole world.
Then one night
the unthinkable had happened. Still
dressed in the provocative manner that her young lover so enjoyed, after he had
left her home she’d later that night been attacked by an awful monster from the
ghetto. Her home invaded, raped multiple
times by an unknown black man who’d somehow entered her home, she’d fought like
a tiger but to no avail. After twice satisfying
himself with her body, the horrible man had threatened to return, but for
reasons that now seemed so stupid and naïve as to be literally irrational, she
had not believed him, could not have forced herself to believe that he would
dare to return to the scene of his first crime.
Not wanting
the affair or manner of her dress when first raped made public, not wanting her
young lover to know that she’d been “soiled” in such a common manner, rather
than reporting the assault and enduring all of the accompanying humiliation
that this would have brought down on both of them, she’d just kept quiet,
changed all of the door locks and tried to on her own to recover the broken
parts of her life the rapist had left behind.
The man had
raped her without using any protection.
She took birth control pills so she wasn’t worried about becoming
pregnant…god forbid she become impregnated by the black monster. But she also obsessed for days afterwards
about whether or not he had given her a venereal disease or even AIDS, for
everyone knew that VD was rampant among the ghetto trash.
Suddenly,
those early fears became groundless, for the man had returned a second
time, had somehow entered her home again and once more he attempted to ruin her
life. Again, she had fought him until
exhausted. But, successful once more, he
again took what he wanted from her multiple times and then, as icing on the
cake he beat her and humiliated her at the end, taking photos of her shame as
proof. She feared that what he had done
threatened to turn her very existence into a cheap and tawdry anecdote for
every lecherous man who had ever lusted after her. His actions had taken away her independence,
removed every freedom she had ever taken for granted as a woman, leaving her
nothing but a reclusive, emotional wreck.
But in the
end, her dilemma remained unchanged…. in fact it was now even worse. The public embarrassment of multiple rapes,
the affair with her neighbor’s son, her manner of dress when attacked the first
time, it had been compounded by the very fact that she had not reported the
first attack. But she was a tough person,
and although she suffered deeply from the psychological trauma of the two
attacks, somehow she had made it through this time too without losing her
mind.
But the man
had threatened her this time too, declaring his intent to perhaps return a third
time.
Incredulity
and disbelief.
Despite the
evidence of his two previous attacks, on a conscious level at least, she’d
refused to believe that even one such as he could be that bold, that determined
to destroy her. There was no reason she
knew of for his persecution of her; it was as if he somehow knew her personally
and hated her. It had to be a lie. But even so, she still did her best to
strengthen her home; she’d had the locks changed again and then had
concentrating on trying to recover her sanity, on trying to forget the awful
things he’d done to her.
But in the
end, her decision to ignore his threats had been wrong, a massive error in
judgment. For the man had NOT left her
alone. Rather, he HAD come for
her a third time. And then, dazed,
emotionally exhausted, her mind a ticking time bomb of irrational thought and
overwhelming fear, the woman had compounded her first errors a thousand-fold
when, unlike the first two times, she had uncharacteristically submitted to the
inevitable third rape without struggle.
It was then that he took additional pictures, but this time of them being
together in bed, of their having apparently consensual sex.
She loved the
life she had created for herself. But
with these photos, the black man now controlled every aspect of her existence. Worse, it turned out he was a pimp in
addition to being a rapist, and in many ways he now treated her just like any
other bitch in his string of whores.
Like a foolish
character in some poorly written “B” or “C” rated movie, she had finally
admitted to herself that she truly loved the young man she was seeing, but this
acknowledgement had only come when it was almost too late. She had been independent for so long, been
without a man for so long, that she had become used to that life. But he brought her companionship, security
and…love. Somehow she had come to love
this boy that was the same age as her son; she loved the boy that had grown up
across the street from her house…..and she knew that he loved her.
How could she
have let this happen? She asked herself this a thousand times a day. Would he still want her if he knew what had
been done to her? Her only hope was to
cooperate with her rapist while she came up with a way that allowed she and
Jimmy to flee from the horror her life had now become.
Always aware of
how men viewed her, after being taken sexually by the arrogant black man, the
woman had found herself becoming more and more of a man-hater. It was so easy to despise most men for what
they thought about woman, what they did to women. And in some ways, this hatred gave her
strength, helped save her soul.
Other than his
odd and sometimes aggressive sexual needs, Jimmy was the only man she knew who
treated her like a lady, with respect.
But the only other man that didn’t automatically feel Kate’s ice-cold
glare and tiny merciless smile of disgust was the man who had put her in this
situation in the first place…. he wouldn’t allow her that freedom.
Even though she could not admit it to herself, Booker had totally
dominated her in a way that forced her to accept victimhood in all of its
multi-hued shades at his hands. She fiercely
hated him for what he’d done to her, but she never dared showed him the
disrespect she felt. She only hoped that
with Jimmy’s help she could soon escape his terrible, demeaning grasp and do
her best to live a normal life somewhere else with the man she loved.
Her stomach
felt nervous, acidy, for Booker had insisted that she meet him at a downtown
hotel at three in the afternoon.
God! This was the first time he’d
demanded a meeting away from her home.
Kate's stomach burned with excess acid; it had only been yesterday that
she’d visited her lover’s place and endured the humiliation of the cage he’d
built specifically for her. She still
ached from her experiences there. She
loved Jimmy, but recently he’d begun pushing the limits of what she could
easily give. She wanted to be what he wanted, but almost daily found it more and
more difficult to accept the pain and sexually humiliating things he did to her. But that was okay too, for the two of them
were still discovering the limits of their relationship. And she knew their love would make it
work.
It had
to.
At the same
time, Kate feared what Booker’s new demand represented; he was now taking her
"cooperation" more and more for granted, assuming he was now
in total control of her life. But the
truth was that at least in tiny one way it was better, for he had become
ever more demanding, ever more insistent and less careful, ever more uncaring
and oblivious to any need she might have for his secrecy. At least, she hoped, at a hotel, they would
be ensured privacy.
She despaired
of ever getting her life back. It was
inevitable that at some point the uncouth and horrible black man would be seen
by her neighbors, that she would be exposed.
He had already almost destroyed everything wonderful she might ever have
had with her lover, Jimmy. And with that
exposure, she would finally have been dragged down to Booker’s level as he
ruined the full life she had finally created for herself after so many years of
loneliness and crushing near-poverty.
It was obvious
he was getting what he wanted from her; he also obviously did not care about
her own existence. The black man would
surely destroy her life with his selfish need for domination and physical
gratification that he took from unwilling females such as her.
To compound
her nightmare, a happy Jimmy had telephoned today out of the blue wanting to
meet for a late lunch. Kate knew the
only way she could accommodate both men was to dress for Booker before she met
with Jimmy.
Kate had been taught well by the horrible, uncouth man who now so controlled
her life. She took a shower, paying
particular attention to shaving her legs, underarms, and between her legs as
she prepared for the black man later in the afternoon. She dressed in the skin-tight cream-colored
topless bustier that Booker and Jimmy both enjoyed, but this time without
Jimmy's knowledge. Camouflaged in a
simple yet well-tailored pantsuit, Kate managed to cover the lingerie she wore to
her satisfaction, though she feared that the snaps holding up her flesh-toned
dress stockings might be revealed through the fabric of her business-like
trousers when she sat down. Since it was
a little cool, she also wore a fashionable dark-brown mid-thigh jacket.
At lunch Jimmy
was his normal, caring self. Although he
sensed that something was wrong and asked several times why she was so
distracted, lunch was still pleasant.
They talked of how the weather had deteriorated so quickly, of their
next overnight stay in Boston in order to see a show and of other things that
concerned lovers like them and then Kate departed, off now to meet the man that
had forced himself into her life just to become her secret lover.
There’s
No Such Thing As A Free Lunch or He Still Hated What He had Created
Jimmy managed
to act pleased with the beautiful woman that he met for lunch. She was bundled against the cold when she
arrived at their table and wore a conservative eggshell pantsuit under a light
brown top and beige five-inch stiletto heel pumps. Her nails and lip gloss were one of those
colors between pink and flesh, and it went well with the eggshell. Her fingers were slim and manicured and there
was a single strand of white pearls around her neck. Normally gorgeous, up close beneath her
perfectly applied makeup she looked tired and harassed, but the objective
viewer couldn’t really tell for sure until near. Kate apologized for being a little late and
then again for not being able to stay long.
An
appointment, she said.
They ate
quickly and it was easy to see that Kate was unable to concentrate during their
short lunch; she was visibly distracted; not at all the cool and collected
woman he knew so well. Jimmy worked at
small talk and smiled a lot to put her at ease.
But soon their lunch was over.
She departed and Jimmy watched almost every male in the room look
enviously at the woman with whom he was having an affair.
And as he
watched her walk away, his smile turned first to a grimace of distaste and then
a poorly hidden sneer of disgust. If she
enjoyed meeting men in more public settings, then he would ensure that Booker
obliged her more often.
Jimmy had
early in his life discovered that while he liked the feel of a woman, he didn’t
really like most women; in fact, there were very few women he trusted
and even fewer he admired. The species
just seemed somehow fundamentally flawed to him. He was a sociopath in some ways, for he felt
no guilt for his natural inclination to take a woman and use her, use her hard
and then discard her like some toy that no longer amused him.
And of all the
whores and cunts it’d been his pleasure to use over the last few years, it
turned out that this bitch was the fucking easiest one of all to
manipulate. A long-time friend of his
mother, he’d known the woman for years and hated or resented her for much of
that time. Only recently had an
opportunity become available for him to get inside her defenses. He snorted disbelievingly as he remembered how
she’d tried to use him, make him fall in love with her. But her real nature had finally shone through
as it inevitably must, and then he’d been reminded of her treachery just in
time. Relieved, safe from her
manipulative ways, his hatred rekindled, he’d gone back to the original plan of
using her need for affection and companionship as a way to manipulate the woman
to her destruction.
The black man
he’d hired had his script and Jimmy had provided the cheap hotel room – unknown
to all of the participants, it had of course been pre-wired with video and
audio for his viewing pleasure. It would
be interesting to see how the cheating bitch reacted to what he and Booker had
planned this time.
The Fragrance
Hotel rented rooms. Two hours.
Twenty-five dollars. They often
turned the same room around five times in a day. Or if someone were desperate, rooms could be
rented by the day. The hotel looked exactly
like the kind which did this sort of thing, a concrete-block and
corrugated-iron bunker with badly lit halls and soundproofed rooms with
soundproof doors. Of course, the inclement
weather had cut down on the short-term clientele. The oily clerk smirked as he took the
dark-haired woman’s money, and her face burned with embarrassment at first when
she was informed that she was
responsible for paying for the room, for paying the rate for a full day. However, she quickly recovered and gave him
her superior fuck you, you loser little man smile and left him standing
behind his pathetic little desk.
The lobby was
cold, the elevator didn’t work, and the stairs and hall smelled of bleach and
looked like they got scrubbed a lot because they needed to be scrubbed a
lot. There was a sticky carpet and a
concrete staircase off of the lobby, and the elegant looking woman was
mortified at being forced to meet the black pimp here.
The steel doors of the stair well groaned
open. The now unnerved woman stepped
onto a threadbare brown carpet that probably had not been vacuumed for at least
five years. The hallway smelled of urine
and empty Cup-A-Soup containers.
She walked
along the hall and passed an open door in which an undernourished girl, who
looked no older than she needed to, lounged on a stained mattress on a small
bed, clacking a wad of gum loudly. And
repeatedly. She had an iPod on her belly
and was idly working through a well-thumbed book.
The beautiful
woman slowly walked to Room 29 and after hesitating to gather her courage, she
opened the door with the old-fashioned key given to her by the smirking baboon
downstairs. The man who was effectively
her pimp now waited patiently inside.
A cheap,
shadowy hotel room in the late mid-afternoon light; the bed was a wreck of
unclean tangled sheets scattered with Booker’s implements of pleasure and
torture: ropes, rubber and plastic, wire and clothespins. Two bags of fast food wrappers and potato
chip empties lay in the corner and an old National Enquirer lay on the chipped
and scarred bedside stand.
Looking
around, all pretenses at arrogance fled her face. The beautiful woman was horrified by the
tacky, worn hotel room. Unknown to her,
this was the room in which two men had carefully planned to almost surgically
remove all respect she might have felt for herself and her femininity, perhaps
even eradicating at the same time the very thing which made her a woman, which
made her human.
The curtains
were drawn and the room was surprisingly dark.
The reluctant woman looked once at the navy blue nylon gym bag the pimp
had brought with him. Still partially
filled with his “party” toys, it contained duct tape, several different gags, a
coil of rope, gloves, handcuffs, two or three dildos and more. Bitter anger flared briefly and with
remaining courage barely flickering, the woman at first tried to resist his
demands, but she was once more coerced with only a few blows.
She hated the
power he had over her, the power to make her submit to him without saying a
word. To her shame, it ended like it
always did, just like it had begun. She
sat fully clothed on the edge of the bed, her firm body lit by the few
remaining angled rays of the sun as she provided the victim's reluctant, yet
cooperative soul that the pimp required.
Booker had to
admit it; he liked doing this to his women.
Booker was not
an easy man to miss. Enormously tall,
his head seemed to almost brush the ceiling.
And he was so black that his skin almost drank the room’s dim light and
glowed like painted gold, but still reflected light with an almost purple
tinge. His forehead and cheeks were
filled with what looked like ritualized tribal markings. A row of round, hard-looking purple scars the
size of pencil erasers lined the man’s forehead above his eyebrows. Three more lines of scars followed the line
of his cheeks below each eye; each scar a hard knob like something had been
pushed under the skin.
His voice was
a strong baritone, as deep and rich as oodles of chocolate sauce poured over
chocolate ice cream. He sometimes spoke
with a ghettoized African-tinged street vernacular that was full of slang and
sub-cultural references. Other times he
shifted into what sounded like a soft, educated British accent.
Booker knew
that his scars always terrified women at first; to them these things looked so
creepy and obscene. But he didn’t care,
for when he smiled as he gave them his frank, cold look of assessment, every
woman recognized in his dark eyes both arrogance and even grudging admiration
for what they could do for him, how much money or power they represented to
him. It scared each and every one of his
women to death to see his terrible teeth try a smile even as his eyes stayed
sub-polar. And make no mistake, by this
time, the widower Kate was one of his women.
At first
reluctant to become involved in what he saw as an unnecessarily complicated
white-boy plan for revenge, her boyfriend had eventually piqued Booker’s
interest by playing the race card, telling him that "I know she likes to
fuck. But she'd never let a guy like you
fuck her. She's too good for that; and
someone like you, especially being black, not in a million years." Smart enough to recognize a frankly
manipulative comment, subjugating the woman had still become a challenge for
him, a challenge to which he’d more than risen.
She was under
his control now and despite hating or mistrusting almost all men, she’d been
trained over time by him to near perfection, and the beautiful thirty-eight
year old woman now pretty much performed for him on demand.
Ready now,
Booker could feel his veins gleaming with steely anticipation. Before anything else, he stripped and bound
and gagged the unresisting and now submissive middle-aged white woman to ensure
she could, as was usual in the end, deny him nothing. She still wore high heels and the flesh-toned
nylons that reached high on her firm upper thighs, along with the cream-colored
topless bustier which supported the stockings.
Legs spread
and tied wide apart and hands tied to the head of the bed, her exposed nipples
were quickly suctioned erect by his mouth and then the base of each breast was
tightly wrapped with long, very thin strips of elastic to ensure a trapped
blood supply that continually fed the upright nipples. Her nipples now looked almost like vestal
offerings for the clothes pins that were quickly and painfully clamped on
each.
In pain and
spreadeagled on her back, silent and almost naked, the thirty-eight year old
woman presented multiple sexual opportunities for the black pimp. Booker wasn't sure what the boyfriend had
ultimately planned for this bitch, but it was obvious that he hated her. Didn't matter to him though, he regularly got
to drain his nuts when knocking off a nice piece of white ass and was paid good
money at the same time to do it.
But first he
had to get her dilated to accomplish what the boyfriend had requested. The initial dildo was made out of rubber and
shaped like a silver bullet, eight inches long and two inches in diameter. The black man ignored her muffled moans as he
knelt between her legs and began to slide it in and out of the captive woman's
pussy. Each time near the bottom, he
pushed in ever more firmly, and then held it there for a long moment.
After a couple
of minutes, he had masturbated his reluctant whore with it until the hard
rubber glistened with her juices. In and
out, it made a fantastic, erotically wet sound.
Finally, he pushed it in and left her impaled with the first six inches,
while the last two inches of silver remained in view between her nude, spread
labia. From there, Booker moved up her
body so that he could squeeze her tits until she made deep and panic-filled
inhalations through her nose.
Now for the
second piece, another dildo. But this
time six inches long and one inch in diameter.
There was only one remaining place this could go, so he hesitated for a
moment to build the suspense before dribbling some baby oil down between her
legs and then followed it with his finger until it was over Kate's gristly anal
ring. Her boyfriend had already
initiated her to the pleasures of anal sex, so she well knew what was
coming. He began to massage her there,
making circles with his finger until the pressure allowed it to sink home. He looked up quickly as her eyes first bulged
in pain and then closed her in utter humiliation. Red spots of shame burned on each cheek. After a moment, the woman then groaned softly
as she turned her face away from him in embarrassment at being used so
casually.
Booker pushed
his finger in and out for a while until he sensed that the protective muscles
had relaxed and then he placed the rounded end of the anal dildo over Kate's loosened
asshole. Applying constant pressure,
Booker moved the blunt end around until it finally separated her sphincter and
began to penetrate her body, then he slowly pushed it home until it met
resistance....this evoked another long, drawn-out groan from the bound captive,
but belly deep this time with anguish and humiliation. Now he fucked both holes at the same time,
and soon she fit sloppily around each of them.
No matter that her eyes told him how much she hated him and what he did
to her, he was not yet finished with her.
The next part
came at her boyfriend’s request, and it was meant to cause the woman nothing
but maximum embarrassment and undiluted shame.
He leaned over her bound legs and allowed his weight to pin her knees in
place. Booker quickly poured oil over
his right hand and removed the dildo from Kate's pussy. Before her muscles could begin to contract,
he had his four pointed fingers poised at the entrance to her wet, reddened
slit. He carefully separated her
engorged labia and began pushing in, holding the pressure as his fingers were
slowly allowed inside Kate's body.
He worked her,
releasing the pressure, resumed pushing, released and pushed again, over and
over, until he was inside up to his four knuckles. The bound woman was bucking mightily, mewling
her massive pain again and again through the gag which filled her mouth, but
nothing could stop him at this point.
Shifting focus for a second, he gave the dildo in her ass a push and it
went in another inch.
By His Hand Alone or All Good Girls Get
Fist-Fucked In The End
At the same
time, he began a twisting, screwing motion with his fist….and that did it. Suddenly, he was on the far side of "the
door" that had up to now protected her femininity, he was beyond
"that point" in her body which had never been explored like
this. His fist now smoothly glided
inside Kate almost up to his wrist accompanied by a whining sound which came
from deep in her lungs. She felt spongy
and wet and hot and tight inside, and he could feel her vaginal muscles
frantically contracting against him, trying to expel him.
The woman
began bucking again, but hard this time, drawing herself up into an arch that
left only her heels and the back of her head touching the mattress. She held that position for a second and then
screamed her pain and rage into the gag as she collapsed back onto the bed and
her bound heels beat a helpless tattoo against the nasty mattress. But nothing saved the woman from being
ravaged as he shaped his hand into a real fist now and rotated it inside her
womb.
Then it was
time for Booker to take some one-handed pictures. He lifted her ass off of the bed again using
only the wrist that was still so deeply buried in her pelvis; he used this as an
impromptu handle to hold her hips aloft.
The stupid bitch no longer tried to hide her face from the camera; given
all the other pictures he already possessed, she knew her pathetic attempts at
anonymity only gave him more pleasure.
Besides, she was aware that he already had enough photos to destroy her
life; a few more would make no real difference.
He also knew that
he’d hurt the bitch when he’d lifted her up by her hips with nothing but a
curling motion of his forearm, but he didn’t care. Finished for now, Booker slowly lowered her tight,
white ass back onto the mattress and then removed his hand along with the anal
plug before untying her and removing the gag.
Humiliated,
exhausted, in real pain, his victim lay flat on her back with her eyes closed,
trying to control her breathing.
Finally, she looked up at him with tears in her beautiful blue
eyes. She opened her mouth once to
speak, and then closed it again without making a sound.
He looked
down, staring defiantly, directly into Kate's red, tear-stained eyes,
challenging her to say something, anything.
Wisely, the woman kept her mouth shut.
He knew that only she could appreciate the true feeling of everything
he'd done inside her. He preferred to imagine
she had screamed with excitement as her body contorted with an orgasm rather
than in pain, but in the end, he really didn't care.
Finished for
the moment with humiliating the thirty-eight year old woman, the man now
released her after freeing her breasts and nipples.
Kate lay on
the bed, her face red with embarrassment and tears silently rolling off her
cheeks. After a few minutes, she
regained control and took a final deep breath.
She ached so terribly between her legs that she barely registered the
pain of her breasts and nipples. She
prayed the nightmare was over; that she could just could go home and once more
try to maintain her sanity.
Suddenly, she
realized that she was almost naked and that the cheap poorly insulated hotel room
was cold; and that she was cold. He’d
left her wearing almost nothing and she felt every draft that worked itself
around the single window. She sat up in
bed, crossed her legs at the ankles and covered her chest with one arm. She wanted more clothing, but knew that
Booker had not yet reached that part of this particular kabuki dance.
It looked to
Booker like she had regained a little control....she really was a tough old
bitch and he would have enjoyed knowing her ten or fifteen years ago when she’d
have been a prime-time piece of ass. He
sighed to himself; it was time to get back to work. Although her face showed shock at
understanding that he had additional demands, she was unresisting as he pushed
her back onto the bed and began to stroke her softly, touching her in the
intimate places he had already defiled.
Mind frozen
with helpless humiliation and desperation, nipples still throbbing from having
been so tightly bound and then clamped, Kate lay stiff beneath his wandering,
busy, experienced fingers. Her vagina
was terribly sore from what he’d just done; he was absolutely crazy if he
thought he could force her to be here, then torture her sexually AND
make her enjoy it too. But his fingertip
inside her aching vagina continued its long stroking motions. Locked against the inside of her pelvic bone
as if made of a magnet unerringly attracted only to the pads and buttons of
potentially erotic feminine flesh.
He rubbed the
most sensitive area on the inside of her pelvis with an insistent fingertip; a
soft yet demanding motion that would not take no for an answer. Kate finally closed her thighs around his
hand and sat half upright in an attempt to pin and silence the wrist that now
plundered her body. The silent look of
desperation on her face beseeched him to stop, but his malevolent glare in
response was merciless. Soon, Kate
sobbed with humiliation as she released him once more from her knee clamp in
order to allow him to continue his obscene acts.
Forcing
herself to remain still while he masturbated her, she suddenly knew the
terrible intimacy of a man searching for, discovering, and finally attempting
to control a woman through her G-spot.
When she satisfied herself in the privacy of her bedroom, Kate sometimes
used a special vibrator that was designed to do just what he did to her now;
but Lord, it felt so different, so totally different when someone else did it
to her.
He now pulled
out his vibrator and it was the same model as hers; Kate knew this too was no
coincidence. His manipulations within
her vagina seemed to go on and on, never ending. Kate had denied him any success so far. But she was a normal, healthy woman and knew
that if he had not fisted her first, eventually the sensations she felt might
have morphed her feelings from disgust towards the man that controlled her to
despair at the betrayal of her body. But
with a feeling of having won a major battle because of the ache in her pelvis, Kate
knew there was no fear of that ever happening now.
Kate felt no
attraction at all towards this monster, but was human enough, and enough of a
realist, to acknowledge that sometimes she felt weak around him. In fact, she was often filled with the shame of
despair at her weaknesses; she knew that she was not a wanton woman, not a
woman to be passed around like a party favor.
So why had God allowed this to happen to her? Angry, embarrassed, frustrated, she
desperately clung to the small spot of sanity in her mind, even as she
attempted to ignore his continued manipulations.
But the black
man still would not stop. And when he had
finally become bored or had just had enough of controlling her this time, he
mounted her and brutally plunged into her wet, aching, hugely stretched
vagina. With a horrified sense of
finality, Kate forced herself to endure the feeling of being filled by such a pathetic
specimen of manhood such as this.
Crushed by
sudden pain from her suffering body, total revulsion overwhelmed her.
Playtime
finished, Booker now got down to that which he excelled. Buckling her legs up and out over his
shoulders to expose what he craved, he was bear-like and diligent in his quest
to dominate and subjugate the helpless female.
The black man hovered over the unresisting woman, his big square
shoulders jolting with each thrust, his dark brown eyes locked with her blue
ones, unblinking and darkening even more as he seemed to meditate upon sinking
to the hilt into a hot and juicy, yet still sloppily reluctant cunt.
Kate felt the aching
muscles in her pussy involuntarily tighten around him as the tip of his shaft
speared her womb. He began a deep
rhythmic stroke and the feelings only intensified as the ridges on his long
shaft gave her multiple sensations as it plunged in and out of her body.
There was no
reason for her to let him affect her psychologically. She tried to deny his effect on her, to
stoically accept that which he made her take from him, but for some reason she
still felt humiliated by how the man saw her, by what he so obviously thought
of her. Her long shapely legs were
spread wide and locked, frozen in place with her ankles draped over his
shoulders and knees pushed hard into her chest, her hands clenched by her sides
again, clenched until she felt her nails cut into her palms as she concentrated
on anything but what he did to her.
But he kept
riding her, always keeping a high seat on her belly so that his cock
continually rubbed against her clit as it moved in and out of her body. Booker, the past master of other women's
bodies, created what at any other time might have been a perfectly wonderful
symphony of feelings and sensations inside her body. But hatred for him made it so remarkably easy
to refuse any response to his need and so she remained motionless and
unresponsive beneath him as she endured until he’d finished.
Both were
satisfied at the end; she felt a small satisfaction at having denied him any
victory over her one more time, while he was greatly satisfied at having, once
more, taken everything he wanted from the reluctant woman. She was HIS piece of ass, and he had
just proved it again.
The room was
quite dark now and Kate thankfully knew it was almost over. She was in the usual position that he
demanded at the finish; on her knees, her face pushed directly into of his
groin. She was sore between her legs
from what he had done to her, and the shame of being used like a crack whore in
this cheap hotel room was balanced only by the welcome fact that it was almost
over for today, that she could soon go home and take a long bath in her
never-ending efforts to remove any traces he might have left on her body.
She
reluctantly closed her lips around his soft manhood and began sucking. His hands used the hair on either side of her
head to steer her face and she quickly got into the rhythm his hips
demanded. As he firmed and grew, his
erection went further and further down her throat. She had been a quick learner and he had
greatly reduced her gag reflex over a relatively short time, pretty much
through practice. He had become more and
more insistent over the last few weeks, working hard at overcoming her initial
unwillingness and lack of experience and forcing her to learn to take his whole
length with little or no gagging. But
mostly, he truly enjoyed the way that her eyes still fill with tears of shame
as he deep-throated the now totally submissive bitch.
Black Bone, White
Flesh or Evil
Never Dies, It Just Changes Faces
No one saw
them coming. The two big black men stood
in the dim light outside Room 29 and listened for a while. Low, faint voices from inside, one commanding
and the other submissive, soft sound of bed springs being given a workout
accompanied by the occasional feminine groan.
Then silence. The door was heavy
for a cheap hotel like this and well set in a solid frame, but the lock was
ridiculous. One man reached out and
tested the knob. It was always a good
idea to check and see if the door was actually locked; nothing made a man feel
more silly than trying to kick in a door that wasn’t locked.
The second man
stepped back and took a small Sony digital camera out of his pocket and held it
in his left hand. After setting himself,
the first man breathed inward for a moment, and then lunged forward, his foot
up and heel out, striking the door an inch below the door knob. The door slammed open and they were in the
dank, half-lit room.
A small bed in
the corner, a rusty sink, some cheap vinyl furniture, a bedside lamp and two
figures, both naked and shiny with sweat, frozen in position.
The camera
started, running off a series of rapid shots.
Each flash lit up the room like a bolt of lightning, turning the figures
into a kind of silent, jittery movie of frantic motion: the big black man
sitting on the edge of the bed, the almost naked white woman on her knees with
her face buried in his crotch, his hands filled with hair on either side of her
head. Nothing showed of the man’s
erection, for the woman had obviously taken almost the whole length in her
mouth.
Darkness.
Another flash;
both occupants were looking at them now, the man’s massive, wet erection
pointing into the air, the wide eyes of the beautiful woman on her knees in
front of him, her chin shiny with the drool and saliva that were occupational
hazards of giving blowjobs, mascara run into long black lines from tears caused
by his lunges down her throat, her irises lit camera-red as she stared in
opened-mouthed shock and confusion at the camera.
Then blackness
and another flash; the man and the woman breaking apart, the glossy stockings on
her long legs reflecting shiny highlights from the tautly stretched nylon held
up by the topless, light-colored bustier which so perfectly framed her firm
breasts.
Blackness and
another flash; the woman caught frozen with terror, fumbling at her clothes,
the naked black man standing up and moving towards the corner of the room.
Blackness and
another flash; the woman flying towards the door.
The man
snapped a final shot and then kicked the door shut behind him, trapping her in
front of him. He turned the light on
then and looked at his prey; she was theirs for the taking. A beautifully mature, hard-bodied woman
pretty much clearly and professionally free of those pesky gag reflexes.
He pulled a
knife and moved an unresisting Booker face first into the corner, then down on
his knees with his hands clasped behind his head.
After a
moment, Booker heard the woman say behind him, “God, no. No, PLEASE!”
There was the
sound of a hard slap and then a feminine sob.
“Booker. Help me. Please!
Don’t let them do this to me.”
One of the men
said, “Come on whitey, you take it from him, bitch; you’ll take cock from us
too.”
It seemed a
dangerous situation. A street smart man,
Booker never moved as he heard a quick zipper unwind and then the woman behind
him sobbed again. She gasped, but
whether in pain or shock, he did not know.
He heard her face being slapped once more, and then suddenly he heard
the soft rhythmic smacking sound of flesh on flesh as the man slapped her face
with disgust using just his erection. He
heard her cry out softly and then gag once as the first man filled her mouth
with fresh meat.
The first
black man’s hand was locked at the base of his cock, measuring how much meat he
could push into the woman’s mouth.
Clearly surprised after a moment, he realized that although she was
gagging every now and then, she was well-trained enough to be able to take
every inch of his meat like a professional mouth-whore. He let go of his dick and began driving all
the way into her mouth. "I guess
that's deep enough," the man laughed.
"Now I’ve a nice little gauge – I only need to stop when my balls
are touching her chin," he joked as he slowly began pumping her face with
a slow rhythmic motion.
Mascara
running from her tears, without being ordered to do so, the reluctant woman
sucked on him for at least five minutes.
Then he used a hand full of her hair to keep her face where he wanted it
while pulled his meat mostly out of her mouth and began to stroke it with his
other hand. After only a couple of
minutes, the black man grunted, "I’m gonna cum."
His hand was
nearly a blur as he reached the short strokes that allowed him to get off. He was getting close to reaching an orgasm
and was preparing to unload his nuts into the bitch’s mouth. "Stick out your tongue," he
ordered, pulling the tip of his spit covered cock from between her lips. "Do
it NOW!"
The woman’s
mind appeared numb as she fearfully complied and opened her mouth, knowing full
well the consequences if she didn't obey.
Suddenly, the man stopped as, accompanied by a long low growl deep in
his throat, strings of thick white semen began to shoot from his cock.
"Oh yeah,
fuuuuck yeah," the man groaned in satisfaction, as the first shot of cum
flew from his cock like a long viscous thread.
Kate flinched as it landed across her gorgeous face, nearly hitting her
in the eye. "Uuugh ya, ugh" he
grunted again as another load came flying out, and landed in her hair, and
across the top of her ear.
"SHIT, I
missed" he moaned in pleasure. He
really wanted to cum in the white bitch’s mouth, not all over her face. As the last couple of globs of semen oozed
from his dick, he held his cock over Kate's still waiting tongue and squeezed
the remaining thick white viscous fluid onto it. He used his softening erection to scrape cum
off of her face and into her waiting mouth and then stuck his cock back in her
mouth too. "Eat it, you nasty whore"
he said, as the last glob of slimy sperm dripped directly onto its intended
target.
Kate had
frozen in fear, but it didn’t matter now for the man quickly stuffed his still
semi-rigid cock back into her mouth and pinched her nose closed with his thumb
and forefinger. "Lick it and
swallow it, you cunt," he ordered, "swallow it all." With her head still tilted backwards, and not
being able to breath, it was difficult but somehow she managed.
Kate felt
sickened with the musty taste and slimy texture of the semen which now coated
the inside of her mouth, including her teeth and tongue. She wanted to vomit, but managed to contain
herself. "Ummm, mmmmm," she
moaned in disgust, trying her best to pull away from the intruding shaft that still
slid back into her mouth and invaded so deeply down her throat. "Ughhhh uuugggg," she gagged.
Crying from
frustration even as her mind began shutting down, face burning with sexual
humiliation, mouth filled with pulsating, softening black cock-meat, Kate
thought about spitting out his semen for a moment, but fearfully decided in the
end that it was in her best interest to obey him, to swallow it like she had
been ordered. As she did, she gagged
slightly on the gooey liquid as it slowly ran down her throat. The foul salty taste that coated her tongue
sickened her, but at this point she had no choice but to comply with their
demands.
Neither of
them saw the second man standing behind Booker as he took almost fifty camera
shots of the two on the bed, for the room was well enough lit now that the
flash was unnecessary. Although it may
have seemed an eternity to the woman, the first man lasted little more than
five minutes before he groaned in satisfaction and Booker heard Kate softly cry
out in horror and misery as he ejaculated on her face and inside her
mouth. When the first man had finished
getting his nuts off with the despairing woman, the second was eagerly awaited
his turn and within seconds the bed springs were singing their song of
love. Again, more pictures were taken of
Kate, this time of her being fucked by the second man.
In the
meantime, the first man went through Booker’s pants and wallet, removing any
money he had. Booker had not said a word
the whole time. The man said, “Brother,
you don’ want no trouble, you better move on.
We ain’t hurting the whore….ain’t gonna’ give her nothing she ain’t had
a million times before. We’ll let the
whore go when we’re done with her. You
just keep this shit to yourself and no one’ll get hurt.”
Without a look
back, Booker quickly dressed and moved out of the awful hotel room.
The Latest In A Long String of Black Lovers
or She’d Obviously Been Boned Into Submission
The second man
just wanted to fuck the white bitch’s pussy.
He slapped her cum covered face, pushed her onto her back on the bed,
climbed between her gorgeous legs that he’d spread so wide and pushed himself
into her wet, sloppy, stretched out vagina…..man, the first dude had obviously
fucked the shit out of her. It didn’t
take long and the nasty whore was already moist; even though she did not move
under him, he thought she might even be enjoying it. He drilled her for about ten minutes of
heaven, but could see that his partner was becoming impatient after having
gotten rid of her pimp.
"Hold
off," he barked, “you'll get your chance again soon enough.” And he was right; it would only be another
minute before his balls had reached maximum excitation. Grabbing the beautiful white woman's hips, he
slid up onto his knees, and raised her legs slightly, giving him easier access
to her hot, wet cunt. Reaching down
between her legs, he pealed her labia apart, exposing her clit as he continued
fucking her.
That was all
he could take - the sight of his bloated, purple-black cock slipping in and out
of her hot, wet, pink inner flesh. His
cock exploded within thirty seconds of laying her bare, sending wave after wave
of milky, silky-slick cum into her already sopping wet vagina. "Ughhhhh, fu-uu-uu-uuck that feels
good," he groaned in a long, low growl of pleasure. His cock twitched and jumped again, shooting
another load of scalding hot semen into the woman's
well-used love box.
He held onto
her tightly, as sensation after pleasurable sensation swept through him,
forcing his cock more deeply into the beautiful woman as the last drops of his
cum finally entered her body. "Shhiiit,
that felt good," he moaned softly as he pulled out his quickly softening
organ and squeezed one last remaining droplet of semen onto her freshly shaved
pubic mound.
"Man,
this bitch is hot. Roll her over;"
the first man said excitedly, "I want to fuck that hot, white ass of
hers."
Adrenaline
obviously pumping wildly now, for the first time the whore fought against them,
trying to push both men away from her.
"Oh no....oh God, please NO...please NO," the white woman
cried out. "P-please not
that!"
The sounds of
the fight were soft and never left the confines of the tawdry hotel room, but
it was over quickly. Both of them beat
the woman into submission as she fought them wildly for a moment, for it was
quickly clear that she was no match for the two very determined men. In the end, they successfully rolled her over
onto her stomach. One of the men posed
her with her face driven in the mattress, and she suddenly froze in that
obscene position. The other man hit her
head again, and when he pulled on her hair, she reluctantly but obediently rose
up onto her hands and knees, far enough to get her ready for the first
man.
She never
stopped begging them softly, "NOOOO P-PLEASE...OH GOD...NOOOOO, PLEASE
STOP ... LEAVE ME ALONE...." her voice died as it choked with sobs.
"Shut UP,
you bitch!" the first man leered into her face. "If you don't shut your FUCKING mouth,
we're gonna have to gag you with something," he warned, “and you
definitely won’t like that.”
The
threatening hip thrust he gave Kate was enough to quiet her for a moment - she
didn't want to have another man in her mouth for the rest of her life after
this. Now, they were finally ready. A terrified yet silently obedient Kate knelt
on hands and knees in the middle of the mattress, waiting, tears streaming down
her cheeks as she tried to prepare herself mentally for what was to come
next. Her hair hung down around her
face, covering her tears and her mouth that already hung open in a silent
scream of coming anguish.
Intellectually,
Kate KNEW she was capable of handling the coming discomfort and humiliation ---
she and Jimmy had already proved that.
But emotionally, what these men did to her in this room, what Booker had
turned her into, it all forced her to lose everything that truly mattered to
her; Kate’s reputation and honor, all her personal responsibility, the way she
looked at herself…. her femininity….. her very humanity.
As the first
man got on his knees behind the white woman they’d taken and prepared to stuff
his once more erect cock into her from the rear, the other man loomed over her
head, savoring the helpless look on the woman’s face as she finally accepted
her starring role in the coming ordeal.
Eyes squeezed tightly shut now in horrified anticipation, her clenched
fists gripping a blanket, every nuance of her posture made it clear the woman
knew she was about to feel a pain like no other, would be humiliated in a way which
surpassed all others for a woman like her.
The woman jumped when the man stuck two fingers into her wet, cum-soaked
pussy - she clearly hadn't expected that.
He carefully scooped out a glob of slimy cum from her well-drilled fuck
hole and wiped the cold, velvety-slick fluid on her puckered anus…..and on his
rock-hard erection.
The woman
moaned again in horrified anticipation once more as the man moved in closer,
spread her buttocks wide apart and pushed the bulbous head of his cock firmly
between her cheeks and against her butt hole.
The smell of semen and wet pussy filled the cheesy hotel room as the
second man prepared to watch the ass reaming about to take place.
"Here it
comes, baby," the sodomizer warned, barely giving is victim time to
prepare for what would happen in the next few seconds. Then, he suddenly stabbed the tip of his well
lubed cock into the woman’s rear end in one swift move. Gasping both from pain and shock, the white
woman arched her back, trying to escape from the thick black snake-like monster
that had only begun its invasion of her lower body. But it was no use, the man stabbed his
salami-sized cock back in again, penetrating even further this time.
She Had A Well-Turned Ass or She Knew Now She
Would Never Be Free
Upon full
penetration of her sphincter, the man then slowed down his impalement of the
woman, giving her plenty of time to enjoy every additional inch he slipped into
her ass. Even though the bitch knew what
was happening and had probably even enjoyed doing it with other men, this time
it was different. He was NOT her lover
and he only wanted to use her, to force her to accept whatever he deigned to
give her. The cunt had not been lovingly
dilated or prepared, and his penetration literally took her breath away. The black man pushed his massive organ into their
captive, stretching the walls of her colon to the limit as he entered her
beautiful, tight body.
Forced to her
hands and knees in order to accept him, the white bitch gasped with the sudden,
sharp agony of her lower body being filled as the man slowly, but inexorably,
shoved at least seven more inches of man-meat into her tight, unprepared anal
canal.
"Sha….yeo-man"
he groaned," he groaned. “Fuck
bitch, damn, DAMN!!! I love white
bitches with tight asses."
"OoooowwwWW....GOD....ooowww,"
the woman moaned softly as the man penetrated her tightly clenched sphincter,
plunging himself more deeply into her colon.
The sudden rectal pain combined with abdominal cramps seemed shocking to
her, almost unbearable.
"OH
GOD....it--it h-HURTS. It’s too
much! I…I can’t breathe," their
bitch cried in true agony, pleading with him to remove himself from her
body. But he just smiled in pleasure and
kept on doing what he was doing.
The man
standing next to her head only laughed at her obvious distress; the arrogant
bitch didn’t look too elegant or stuck-up now.
But the man inside Kate had other ideas - Oh yeah, the gorgeous bitch
may have at first thought she was better than any of them, but he was going to
show her just what he thought of her. He
fully intended to fuck her ass until he put a second load deep inside her
wonderful butt. He’d already cum once in
her mouth, so the bitch was in for one hell of a ride before he’d be able to
cum again. She was in for a ride she
wouldn’t forget for a while.
"Oh yeah,
BABY" he moaned. "I'm gonna fuck you so hard, your momma’s gonna feel
it," he alternately laughed and threatened, as he pumped in and out of her
anus.
"Oooohhhhh
my G-GOD it hurts....p-please STOP....take it OUT OF MEEEEEeeee," Kate
continued to beg softly, but uselessly.
But it didn’t
matter, the man was so filled with lust for the white bitch that he didn't give
a fuck how much he hurt her - he was going to get off in this one’s ass, no
matter what she said or how much pain it caused her. Grabbing her hips, he started fucking her ass
faster and faster, and each time doing his best to push his cock further and
deeper inside her body. The white whore
was completely under his control as she continually grunted and shuddered from
both the intense pain and her abject humiliation at being treated like an
impersonal, artificial fuck-toy.
The woman gave
soft, belly-deep pig-like grunts of pain and horror after one particularly
vicious thrust finally brought him back to his senses. The man standing snorted with humor at the
bitch. But the man on his knees just
gave a wolfish smile at the sounds he had just driven out of her body. Giving even harder, more brutal thrusts, he
purposely succeeded in making her squeal in pain again and again, but this time
the pig noises she made were sloppier, wetter, altogether deeper and more
”honest” than before. God, it felt so
GOOD to be alive and giving it to a whore like this!!
"Okay,
that's it," the man fucking her called out after driving out another
grunting round of pig-squeals.
"Gonna have to gag the bitch.
Come on over here, man....you need to check out this bitches cock
sucking skills one more time," he said.
Kate heard
what he said, but at this point, it didn't matter anymore – she was wrecked,
totally broken – her spirit gone, all self-respect destroyed, and as far as she
was concerned, she just wanted to die now……. they could fuck her to death if
they wanted, as long as they allowed her to die afterwards. And they could go on fucking her dead body long
after that; she wouldn’t be around to care anymore.
Her mind
wondered off into a dark, dark place. Oh
yes, Kate had already experienced Booker in all the ways he could destroy a
woman and she knew what was happening to her now, but she suddenly felt no
pain, just the rhythmic pounding of the man’s pelvis against her butt cheeks
and an occasional hand groping one of her breasts as they swayed and jiggled
below her.
Time had no
meaning for Kate now – or for the memory of being Kate. She had no body but retained a consciousness
somehow, somewhere. There was a minor
sense of motion now, but only of motion received, of being acted upon rather
than initiating it, but that might only be a memory. But remembering somehow created a few
things. A hand, a foot, what made her a
woman. Remembering what made her a woman
resulted in the sensations there, a painful aching, tearing, throbbing
sensation. Memory of an awful time
condensed into the patch of flesh and blood that was her.
The man
standing near her head pushed his cock towards Kate's open mouth and then past
her lips. "Ohhhh ya," he
moaned, feeling the wet heat of her mouth against his erection. But he quickly became annoyed at her lack of
cooperation; he was inside her mouth, but she wouldn’t suck, wouldn’t move her
head up and down for him. Frustrated, he
grabbed a handful of long black hair on both sides of her head and slowly
bobbed her head up and down on his cock, being careful not to jam it down so
far as to cause her to choke on it. It
didn't take long until his cock suddenly exploded in her mouth again, sending a
large glob of his salty fluid to back of her throat.
Still on her
hands and knees, Kate began to retch uncontrollably. With every retching move she made, the man
filling her ass groaned with pleasure as she also inadvertently clamped down with
her rectal muscles on his fully buried erection. Somehow, she managed not to vomit around the
massive penis which filled her mouth as the man pumped his remaining load down
her throat. Still in an almost trance-like
state and staring blankly at the stained sheets that swam unfocused before her
eyes, Kate let the cum ooze from her open mouth after the man’s cock finally slipped
out. The whole while, the man on his
knees at the back of her hips never once stopped his rhythmic spearing of her
lower body.
Ten minutes of
fucking this white bitch's tight ass was really getting to him and his balls
were about to explode. He’d had a lot of
women in his life, but had never felt a hole gripping his cock as tightly as
did this whore’s. And the feeling was
simply amazing.
"Oh ya,
Baby. I'm gonna dump my load into your
oh-so-elegant white ass, you fucking whore," he groaned, his mind overcome
with pleasure.
[
He gave
another quick jerk of his hips into her buttocks, "Here it comes,
bitch."
His nut sack
was pulled up and tight against his crotch, the cum ready to explode out. "Oh Gaawd," he moaned in pleasure
as his cock vibrated and pulsed inside the captive woman’s body and his hips
involuntarily bucked forward again, and then again, sending his penis a quarter
of an inch at a time deeper into Kate’s rectum.
The physical feeling of this woman unwillingly crouched beneath him, the
smell of her hot wet well-used sex that filled the room, the sight of the stripes
and minor bruises from her having been whipped on her ass-cheeks, the small
amount of blood around the base of his cock as he drilled her ass and ripped
her flesh, the feel of his blood beating through his veins…..
It was all
linked tightly together into a world of pleasure that he had created just for
himself.
The first shot
of his cum entered her bowels, deep within her somehow still tight hole. Suddenly brought back to a humiliating and
shameful reality by his last deep jab into her, Kate somehow felt or imagined
the warmth of his seminal fluid as it exploded into her rectum. The man froze then, allowing her to feel
every pulse and twitch and vibration of his rock hard cock as he pumped his final
load of sperm into her waiting body.
Unbelievably,
his continuing stillness and the warmth of his ejaculation somehow relieved a
little of the pain he had given her - the slimy hot cum that flooded her colon
almost seemed to act as a medicated balm which had been delivered deeply inside
her. It was as though it had been done
to sooth her - to comfort her in her time of shame – rather than to despoil
her. But the black man clearly hadn’t
cum in her ass to help her; he was instead just fulfilling an ancient genetic
drive to spread his seed to any available woman. And this one had definitely been available,
even if they’d had to knock her around a little first.
Pulling out
slightly, the man looked down at his shaft, still half-buried in the puckered pink-brown
ring of Kate’s anus. The two of them had
done a lot of fucking with this bitch over the last couple hour. He was exhausted and smiled tiredly as he
admired the way her brown whorl of flesh was still so tightly wrapped around
him. Suddenly, another, final, wave of
cum jetted from the tip of his cock and into her beautiful butt. "Oh yeah," he groaned softly with
pleasure under his breath and then almost absent mindedly withdrew from her
body and sat back on his haunches to catch his breath.
The bitch
really was an outstanding piece of ass.
Even though they’d made sure she was a well-fucked whore, it was still
easy to admire the hot, expensive-looking white bitch that still remained bent
over in front of him. Motionless on her
hands and knees, he suddenly realized that the well-trained slut was still
waiting for permission to move.
"Check
out her asshole," he laughed to the other man, as it stared him in the
face. After the fucking he had just
given her, and the way he’d stretched her sphincter muscles, her anus was
almost spasming in a way that made it look like the mouth of a fish gasping for
air.
"Look,”
he jeered again, “you can see her tonsils from here." Both men burst out in laughter.
Kate had never
felt so humiliated, so filled with shame in her life. Never before had she felt so degraded, her
value as a person, as a woman, reduced to nothingness like this.
The rape went
on for another hour. They fucked her
hard some more and they hit her in the face and in her stomach, but rather more
softly now. They hit her not in an
effort to make her more obedient, for she already was, but rather because they
just liked to hit women, especially white women.
Both men had
liked her position when they’d first entered the room, so at the end, when each
of them was totally spent and couldn’t get it up anymore even if their lives
depended upon it, they too
finished with the woman on her knees, desperately sucking them off one final
time. Although exhausted, the whore clearly
had had a lot experience. She performed
like a pro and the men were both quite pleased with themselves.
A terrified
Kate performed well at the end of that horrible day, deep throating each man
multiple times. Of course, it didn’t
matter that she’d been physically beaten, that she was psychologically
exhausted and emotionally devastated, or that she feared for her life.
The first man
put a small amount of cum in her mouth after ten minutes. The second man took almost twice that long
and it was obvious the whore was running on her last dregs of energy when he
poured his final load so deeply down her throat that she just reflexively
swallowed his cum without even tasting it.
He then laughed as he slapped her face back and forth with his softening
cum-slick cock.
The last
photos they took of Kate that night were mostly photos of her mouth filled with
black cock. The photos of the men
slapping her face with their softening cocks were especially erotic. They dumped her purse at the end and took all
of her money and credit cards. The men
left Kate on her knees by the side of the bed, covered with their semen,
stunned with shock from their violence, softly sobbing in shame and
anguish. They also took with them all of
her clothes except for her jacket and high-heels, and then walked outside and
down into the over-heated lobby.
They Left A
Cold Emptiness Inside or She’d Been Thoroughly Broken By A Harsh Lover
Booker was
leaning against the wall and stood up straight when they arrived. Knowing they were going to take a while, he’d
left and then returned about thirty minutes ago. The three greeted each other with dabs and
smiles, and one gave Booker back his wallet, minus the $500 he had promised
them if they would have “rough” sex with the woman in the hotel room.
Booker smiled
to himself. He had really fucked with
the bitch’s mind this time. He wondered
how she would take it.
Abandoned in
the terrible hotel room, the exhausted woman was devastated. Her mind was not working well, so it took a
while to realize, but suddenly it didn’t feel merely cool any longer. It was downright cold in the room. Being pretty much stark naked presented her
with other problems too, since she’d seen them take most of her clothes and all
of her money and credit cards. Willing
her exhausted body to move, she finally rose from her knees like a zombie and
staggered over to the wash basin where she wiped the fresh cum from her
face.
It hurt to
move her legs and there was no way she could walk normally. She looked at herself in the mirror. Her cheek hurt from where they’d hit her, but
she barely felt the pain….thank God none of her teeth had been loosened. She washed her mouth out for what seemed a
thousand times, but it didn’t help for she still felt so dirty. And there was no way to wash away the
horrifying images from her mind.
She stumbled
back to the rape bed holding a wet washcloth against the side of her face. Even though it filled her with revulsion and
disgust, she forced herself to lie upon it once more. Something seemed to have filled the cold air
in the room around her, a terrible, invisible presence which dominated and took
away her free will, a massive force that demanded all control of her mind. It felt like grief and terrible, bitter
shame. Kate tried to wait it out, but it
would not leave. Even though her
religion forbade it, for the first time, Kate realistically considered suicide
as a way out of the life she now so hated.
She dully
stared at the stained curtains that hid the empty street and listened to the
thud of her empty heart. Immersed within
the distant detachment of the sole survivor, she felt a little braver with the
men gone, but for the first time in her adult life, Kate felt truly, totally,
brutally alone in the world too. Their
thick, silky semen was even now drying, cold and sticky and tacky between her
thighs and on her belly, on her face and in her hair, and she couldn’t get
their taste out of her mouth. Kate tried
to pretend nothing had really happened here, that what had just happened didn't
really mean anything; it had only been on TV and not in reality. But she couldn't continue lying to
herself.
Loathing
herself and her despicable weaknesses, the broken woman lay curled in a tight
fetal position on the unmade bed which stank of sweat and sex and violence, and
wept softly for what had been taken from her.
Night eventually covered the city, but the soiled and devastated woman
lay without moving on the bed, clinging to the dim and formless dream that was
her only refuge from the hazy memory of the black men crouched over their
victim.
The next
morning found the woman sitting naked on the toilet after taking a whore’s
bath. Her foot bounced uncontrollably
until she clutched her leg and pounded her thigh. She would have looked stunning except for one
slightly swollen eye and the smudge of lipstick that tapered off the corner of
her mouth. It looked clown-like and
intentional, a defacing rather than an accident. She closed her eyes in misery. After a moment, a tear trickled from her
unbruised eye and she grabbed a tissue and wiped off her lips and chin for
perhaps the thousandth time.
She lurched to
her feet and stared out the dirty window.
Her clothes were gone and she had no money; she had no idea how she was
going to get home. The wintry scene
could not have looked more bleak or appropriate; a thin snow had fallen the
night before and now a bitter wind blew down the deserted street, rattling
windows and sending wisps of snow whipping across the frozen ground. It perfectly fit the way she felt this morning.
To add to
Kate’s humiliation, she had to sneak out of the hotel that morning, but no one
noticed the tall, attractive woman leave.
She walked awkwardly, slowly, as if pain. And she was inappropriately dressed for the
cold weather, wearing only a tightly buttoned, mid-thigh length dark-brown coat
that she clutched to her stomach and beige five-inch stiletto heeled pumps on
bare legs exposed to the cutting wind.
But if they
had looked more closely, they would have seen a woman whose world teetered on
the edge of madness.