Blackshaft - 1-05 - Lines part 4 - Season Finale
(Adults Only. Copyright@Rama. 2013)
St Ignatious. Principle’s Office. Day.
Susan Corralli looking at the desk and couldn’t get the picture out of her head; Caroline Wyatt’s legs spread wide as that black... teacher was... She could picture his bare buttocks as they thrust. Then there were the sounds. The deep, gutteral sounds. They thought they were being quiet but they were grunting like animals. Animals aren’t quiet. As Miss... No, as the WHORE defiled this office and spat on everything that was right and had been built up over the years. Susan was NOT racist. But there were limits. Being friends is fine, being work colleagues as well, but what sh had seen and heard happening in this office, on this desk...? No. The whore was not born black, her mother was obviously not born black, her father was not born black. She could hear the treacherous sounds from the so-called principle in her head as she stood there.
“Okay,” Caroline Wyatt said. “Two weeks, not a problem.”
Susan looked at the white traitor behind the desk. She even looked different now. Wyatt wore her hair down and Susan noticed the cleavage on show now. The woman was dressing sluttier. Her body language was looser as well as her language with the odd profanity slipping in. She had noticed how Caroline Wyatt was letting things go. The students’ language as well was looser. And in front of the Principle who refused to acknowledge it. It had happened again this morning as she followed Wyatt coming in. Some of the supposed young ladies were talking about sex and using words they shouldn’t have. Wyatt simply smiled and walked straight passed them. It was almost like she was supporting them when she smiled. The thought made her feel sick.
“I’ll see about getting a temp.” Susan said.
Caroline Wyatt sat back. “Don’t worry about it. It’s a good chance to give some of the girls some work experience.”
Susan swallowed, horrified by what they might see or hear. “I really think--”
“Don’t worry, the place’ll still be here when you get back.” Caroline smiled. “We’ll try not to destroy it too much. So go. Enjoy your vacation.”
‘Try not to destroy it too much,’ she heard and Susan felt like screaming it was too late but that would have made the slutty whore suspicious. She needed to get away from here and tell people. Tell the trust who helped fund this place what was happening. Susan slowly forced a smile on her face. “Okay.” she said. “Thanks.”
Caroline leant her elbows on the desk and smiled again. “You’re young.” she said. “Have fun. get drunk, get laid. To quote the song ‘Enjoy Yourself, it later than you think’!”
“Yes... Miss Wyatt.” Susan said, forcing each word out.
“In fact, it near the end of the term.” Caroline added. “We’re just kicking our heels right now. So when you finish today, just start it tomorrow and take an extra week.”
“An extra week?” Susan asked.
“An extra week. Don’t say I’m not good to you.”
“Thank you.” the secretary said flatly.
“Oh, and could you update the files on Isabella Brunelli. She’s left us.”
“Apparently there was some family trouble. They’ve moved back to Sicily. And when you get back to your desk, could you give Mr Jameson a call. I’d like to see him.”
Susan felt the sick feeling return as she saw the slight smile on Caroline Wyatt’s face. She also noticed the whore’s breathing seeming increase at the mention of his name. “Yes, Miss Wyatt.” she said and walked back to her desk.
She put the call out, feeling ill at mentioning his name, and updated the Brunelli file. Then waited with a sense of dread. She saw the door open and he walked in. The fucking nigger had an attitude in his walk as he came in. He pointed to the door of the principle’s office and she nodded with a fake smile. Just keep up the act, Susan told herself as he pushed the door open and stood there. The smile on his face was wide. She could say it then. FUCKING. NIGGER. With the FUCKING WHORE.
Susan Corralli let the false smile drop as she watched the FUCKING NIGGER step inside and slowly close the door....
Two weeks later.
Howard Poulson’s Apartment. Kitchen. Evening.
“The case is dead.” Detective Howard Poulson said into the cell phone as he folded the slice of buttered bread over. “Open but effectively dead. We can’t find them. Any of them.”
“I suppose they must have run.” IronRod said from the other end.
“I suppose.” Poulson said, sniffing at the simmering sauce in the pot on the stove. “Are we ever going to find them?” the detective asked, dropping some more basil leaves in.
“One of life’s great questions. Who knows?”
Poulson looked at the newspaper. The headline simply read; TEFLON TESINO KILLED.
Two weeks ago.
Apartment on Millar Way. Morning.
The door crashed open, the lock finally smashing out of the wood of the frame. Police officers in body armour poured through. “POLICE!” the lead officer yelled. He flattened himself against the wall, keeping the semi-automatic rifle trained ahead of him as more armed officers started sweeping through the apartment.
“Clear!” one called out.
Another door crashes open.
Yet another is smashed open.
Detective Howard Poulson gripped his handgun as he listened to the repeated calls of ‘clear’ while he stood waiting. He looked over to the huddled figures of the commander of the SWAT unit and the Commissioner as they were looking over a map of the building.
“There’s no-one in there.” an officer in body armour said walking out of the apartment. “Nothing.” he added.
“Boss?” Poulson called over to the Commissioner who was looking over.
“Your call.” Commissioner Jane Greggs said.
“Okay,” Poulson holstered his weapon and walked into the apartment past the now relaxed armed officers. He whistled as he saw the place. Spacious, with a panoramic view of the city. The furniture was cream and white and looked expensive. As did the pictures on the walls, all original paintings or numbered, signed prints. “I thought these assholes were college kids?” he said amazed.
“That’s what their ages say.” Commissioner Gregg said from behind him. “You sure we got the right place?” she asked. “Cos if you’re information is wrong, you’re pay’ll be getting reduced for the next twenty years.”
“It’s correct.” Poulson said. “Seven different sources pin-point this place.”
“And it’s owned by Carlo Bructanni?”
“It’s the address he gave the last three times he was arrested. The place legally belongs to Masimo Brunelli.”
Gregg shook her head. “Brunelli? And the Bructannis?”
“The rest of the familes are going to be pissed.”
Commissioner Jane Gregg could only smile as she thought of the chance she finally had. All the years the five familes had been running crime in the city and she could only watch as suspects walked from courts or witnesses suddenly forget their own names never mind statements. This might be the perfect chance. “Tear it apart,” she said. “All of it.” All she needed was one little thing that could tear them apart. The bank robberies had done plenty of damage by removing their cash resources. There had even been incidents were mob enforcers had gone to collect ‘insurance’ only to be given their own treatment. “FIND ME SOMETHING!” she yelled to the officers as they paired off into separate rooms.
Two weeks later.
Howard Poulson’s Apartment. Kitchen. Evening.
“Lot of bodies have been turning up.” he said.
“Have they?” IronRod replied flatly. Poulson could swear he could hear the grin. “I’ve been kind of busy.”
“Not catching up on the news?”
Two weeks ago.
Apartment on Millar Way. Morning.
Poulson stopped going through the drawer in the walk-in wardrobe and went through to where the voice had called from. The bedroom was as plush and rich-looking as the rest of the apartment. The mob like to show off the money, he thought. “You found something?” he said walking up to the young uniformed officer who called him.
The officer stepped back and Poulson smiled as he saw the contents of the bottom of chest of drawers. Three shotguns and some rubber masks. Green Gremlin, Dark Avenger and a clown. The masks were all used in the robberies.
“Well?” Commissioner Gregg asked breathlessly looking in.
“Here.” Poulson said and Gregg walked in.
She looked at the open drawer with the guns and the masks and smiled. If there was one thing the mob could never forgive was being fucked over by one of it’s own.
Two weeks later.
Howard Poulson’s Apartment. Kitchen. Evening.
“Lots of arrests, enough bodies.” Poulson said.
“It’ll calm down.” IronRod told him. “After all, Chicago survived something similiar.”
“I suppose.” Poulson replied and looked at the newspaper. Under the announcement of one of the cities most untouchable criminals there was a picture of a beaming Commissioner Jane Gregg taking questions as another mob boss was being dragged from his home. He noticed the new extension of the shopping mall on Chaykin had started. The ground had been dug and foundations were in place.
“Talk to you later.” IronRod said.
“Sure.” Poulson smiled and put the phone back where it came from. He took a bite from the buttered bread and went back to the sauce.
One week ago.
St Ignatious. Playing Fields. Evening.
Finally he had got in touch with her. It had been a week since she had talked to that dumb fuck of a boyfriend. A week since she had told Carlo to deal with that dyke Emma Agnews. Isabella Brunelli looked at the phone again. How many fucking times had she called and got no answer? A hundred, two hundred? And what happened to Agnews? It was a fact she wasn’t at the school. That bitch Wyatt had told everyone she was on leave. So even if Wyatt was lying about the dyke that didn’t explain Carlo not seeing to tell her juicy details. And what does he do? Texts her! Fucking texts her with a be there message! Well she was here, so where the fuck was he? She found his number and hit the dial button again then listened as it rang. And rang. And passed onto the voicemail. Again.
“Fuck!” Isabella spat and threw the phone down. It was no use trying his ‘crew’. She couldn’t raise them either. Not that she wanted to talk to them as they were all balls-for-brains pricks. It it wasn’t violence or sex they were useless. “Fucking asshole,” she muttered.
It was the arms that surprised her as she felt the cloth clamp over her mouth and nose. “MMMMmmmm....”
“Shhhhh....” the male voice hushed in her ear as Isabella smelled the chemical in the cloth and slowly slipped into darkness.
She groaned as she woke up and felt the metal cutting into her wrists. Isabella felt her ankles bound together. “Oooohhh...” she groaned and gave a gasp as the light hit her eyes. Someone was trying to scream nearby as she got used to the light and blinked. In front of her was a bald, fat slob in a vest. he smelled bad. “Anyone tell you that you stink?” she asked.
The slob slapped her and she grunted before hearing the muffled cry again. A quick glance around told her she was in a small office. What looked like a warehouse was outside the broken windows. “Where is he?” the slob demanded.
Isabella looked at him.“Who--”
“Was I talking to you, slut!” the slob said and slapped her again.
“STOP!” the cry said and she recognised it. “I DON’T FUCKIN’ KNOW!!!”
Isabella looked up as the slob moved and saw the man near her. His eyes were black and he was bleeding from his nose. She could see the bruises start. “Daddy...” she gasped.
“WHERE THE FUCK IS HE!!!” the slob yelled and marched towards her father, Silvio Brunelli. Isabella could only watch as the slob pressed a gun to her father’s right thigh and pulled the trigger.
As her father screamed in agony, Isabella could only join him in screaming....
Dirt Road. Night.
The driver pulled the truck in behind the others and yawned as he looked at the city lights before him. He saw the headlights in the side mirror and looked at the co-driver. “He’s here.” he said. The co-driver looked down at the metal box at his feet and felt a sense of relief that this was finally being off-loaded. He opened the door and saw the driver of the car get out. A curvy female figure dressed in black walked up to him. “Hey, baby,” he grinned at the black woman.
“Not a chance,” she told him.
“C’mon...” he said, jumping down.
“You got plenty of willing whores back there.” she said. “Where’s the cargo?”
“Shit,” the black man said. “Can’t blame a man for trying.” He heaved the box out. “Where’d’you want it?”
The woman lifted the box from him easily. She walked away holding it under one arm as she held her other hand up giving him the finger.
He smiled, looking at her.
“Hey!” the driver called out from the cab. “Your turn to fuckin’ drive, Casanova! Wake me up when we get to Tribeck.”
Warehouse Office. Night.
Isabella had never seen anyone being shot before. She had never seen the pain. It wasn’t like the movies. “STOP IT!” she yelled as the slob pressed down on the bleeding gunshot wound in her father’s thigh. She watched him beg for it to stop. He was crying, the tears running down his bruised cheeks. “STOP IT! STOP IT! STOPITSTOPIT!!!”
The slob stopped but didn’t take his eyes from her father. “I believe you, Silvio.” he said. “You don’t know where that little fuck is, do you?”
She watched her father shake his head. “Please let Isabella go...” he begged.
“The where’s the money?”
Money? Isabella blinked.
“I’m telling you, it wasn’t us!” her father said.
“YOU FUCKIN’ LYING!” the slob yelled in his face. “THE COPS FOUND SOME OF THE NOTES! THEY FOUND THE GUNS! THEY FOUND THE MASKS! AND THEY FOUND DNA FROM THAT CUNT’S BOYFRIEND AND HIS GANG IN THEM!”
Isabella saw the slob pointing at her. “Carlo?” she said.
The slob turned and looked at her. “Yes. Carlo.” he said. “You’re feeding his cock, where is he?”
“I don’t know...” Isabella said quietly, shaking her head.
Silvio straightened up. “Don’t you dare--”
The slob punched him.
“Let’s try again, bitch,” he said, walking towards her. “Carlo was helping steal from his friends. And he was hiding the gear he used in a place owned by you’re daddy there.”
Isabella swallowed hard.
“They found some other DNA.” the slob smiled. “Cunt DNA.”
She blinked. Isabella had spent some nights at Carlo’s place. Fucked him there. “I don’t know where he is.” she said.
“You get anything yet?” a man said and Isabella looked at the door. The man was wearing a suit. Lucio Genarro. Even she knew how powerful he was. The head of the familes. The fucking Godfather.
The slob looked back at her father. “He says he doesn’t know where the little bastard is. I believe him.”
Genarro nodded. “So many years,” he shook his head. then bent down and looked at Silvio. “We were friends. Remember how we used to boost trucks? We built this together, you remember that? And you stab me and everyone else in the back!”
“I don’t know a fucking thing about this, Lucio. I swear.” Silvio was crying now.
“They’re laughing at us. Two of my guys got the shit kicked out of them by some shopkeepers last week. Shopkeepers! And what makes it worse was they were lying there and they were tossed a dollar. A FUCKING DOLLAR! To help them with their fucking taxi fare! You made us all a fucking joke!”
“It’s not me...” Silvio pleaded. Genarro looked at him hard. “I swear I don’t know....”
Genarro broke off the look and took a breath. Isabella saw the gun in Genarro’s hand a second too late.
The gunshot echoed around the warehouse as she saw her father fall to the side. he crashed onto the floor and she blinked as the blood slowly pooled out from under his head.
Isabella screamed again....
Warehouse Office. Night.
The slapping finally silenced her. As Isabella found herself being turned away from the body of her father, she was gasping for breath. She was aware of Genarro walking out and heard the door close. The slob was in front of her again. Just her and him and...
“Where’s Carlo?” the slob started.
“I don’t know.” she wept.
He slapped her again.
“I DON’T KNOW! I DON’T KNOW! I DON’T KNOW!” Isabella screamed in the slob’s face.
The slob grinned and Isabella saw his rotten teeth. She started breathing through her mouth. “Your Momma was a prime bit of cunt meat in her day. A lot of the boys had a taste.”
Isabella gulped, feeling sick. She looked away from him only to have her head wrenched back to his eyes.
“You’re a devious lying little bitch, ain’t you?” he said, breathing on her. “Well, no more lies. You’re going to tell me were you’re boyfriend is, and then you’ll tell me where the fucking money is. Because I don’t believe your daddy there knew anything, and I know you’re boyfriend knows everything.”
Isabella shook her head. Her whole body was shaking.
“Yes. DNA, bitch. And I know he was fucking you. And until you tell me where he is, you’re gonna pay his debt for him.”
“I don’t know where he is!” Isabella said again.
“Guess I get the first payment then,” the slob smiled and Isabella felt sick as he licked his lips.
“I don’t know what you’re talking about. I have any money...” she cried.
“All those bank robberies,” the slob smiled. Isabella looked at him, surprised. “Coming back to you now, huh? How many tricks you gonna have to turn to pay all that money back?”
She looked at her father’s body and shook her head. “No. I don’t know anything. Shoot me instead!”
“You got a debt to pay!” he said as the door opened and two more men walked in “You bring it?” the slob asked and Isabella saw one of the men pull a metal ring that had a leather strap on each side and a cell phone from his pocket. Isabella saw it was her phone. “Don’t want you biting anything you shouldn’t.” the slob grinned, taking the phone.
“I always wanted to fuck this bitch.” the other man grinned.
“No! Please, no!” Isabella cried, tugging at the rope and the handcuffs. “Don’t do it, please...”
The slob smiled as he pressed the dial button and put it the phone to his ear. “Oh, the voicemail. Again. This prick’s been on voicemail all fucking week!” the slob sighed. “I hate these things. Hey Carlo, you little prick, just to let you know your girlfriend’s gonna pay back all that fucking money you stole from us.” He turned and put the phone down next the two men behind him as they undid their zips before putting it up to his ear again.
“CARLO!” Isabella screamed. “FUCK’S SAKE, THEY SHOT DADDY! CARLO, THEY’RE GONNA RAPE ME! CARLOOO!!!!” The slob tossed the phone in a corner. There was a grin on his face as he turned back to her, undoing his trousers. “Payment time, cunt...”
“CAAAAAARLLOOOOOOOOO!!!!!!” Isabella screamed.........
The Hogan Dam. Night.
The car stopped and the door opened. The black woman stepped out then opened the trunk and looked at the metal box. She felt the power from it and quickly undid the clips holding it closed. She opened the box and saw the red light that was emitting from within the tightly meshed cage inside. The woman licked her lips and felt deep throbbing between her legs. Quickly she picked up the cage and felt the warmth of the shifting red light. She took it to where the small boat had been left and rolled the cage in.
She got into the boat and started rowing. All the time the light seemed to keep drawing her eyes to it. The throbbing between her legs was getting more urgent. After five minutes she decided she was far enough out. The woman rolled the cage towards her and tipped it gently into the water. She quickly rowed back to the shore side and hid the boat. There was no-one around. As she got into the car she undid her trousers and pushed a hand own between her legs.
“Mmmmmmm.....” she moaned as she found her clit. She gripped the wheel of the car with her free hand and bit her lip as the climax erupted inside her. “AAAAHHHH.....”
One week later.
St Ignatious. Front Office. Morning
She had tried calling and emailing the various trust members but had no replies. Things were in trouble in seemed. Various trust members had been too busy, or she’d been told to tell the Principle. “There are channels for this!” was one response. For three weeks Susan had been trying to get someone anyone to listen to her. But no-one seemed to care. Susan could still see that whore giving herself to HIM. She had seen how the students looked at him with the same lust. That same want to betray their upbringing. It was only when HE had arrived that the place changed. The talk had changed.
Susan looked at herself in the reflection on the computer monitor. She was 25, and knew they would laugh at how she sometimes complained about things on TV or in the newspapers, but that was how she was brought up. Some things are just the way they should be. Some people shouldn’t mix in certain ways. It was down to her to save the school. To save those young women from that nigger. Susan put her bag down on he desk and looked at the Principle’s door. She took a deep breath and walked towards it.
The secretary knocked on the door.
Susan opened the door as an image of the whore with her legs spread flashed through her mind. She stepped in.
Caroline Wyatt looked up, smiling. The whore, Susan thought seeing the blouse showing cleavage and took a breath. “How was the vacation?” Caroline asked.
“I need to say something.” Susan said.
Caroline blinked. “Sounds serious.” she replied.
“I know.” Susan said simply.
“I know about you and th--Mr Jameson.” Susan said, not wanting to use the actual words she wanted to say.
“And?” Caroline shrugged.
“And?” Susan stared for a moment. She expected there to be some sign of shame or something. But just saying ‘And’? “Do you know what he has done to this place!” she said angrily. “He was having sex with Emma Agnews! In the cupboard! In the school!”
Caroline Wyatt slowly stood up and looked at her secretary. “You need to calm down.” she said.
“AND HE WAS HAVING SEX WITH YOU ON THIS DESK!” Susan yelled.
“Maybe you should take another week off...”
“You know what I did when I was off?” Susan said. “I told everybody on the trust what you were allowing...”
“...and how you were...” Susan stopped. “What?”
“I know what you were saying to the trust.” Caroline said. You might have you head up your ass thinking this place is the whole world but it isn’t. Haven’t you been watching the news, with all those arrests?”
“Don’t change the subject--”
“This school was mob-owned!” Caroline told her.
Susan shook her head. “You’re trying to--”
“I have saved this school!” Caroline added. “The mob ran the trust and are running away. This school was a built on drugs and violence. Well, that life is very short. Yes, I fucked Taylor. On this desk, in my bed, anywhere I of he wanted. Your precious trust was RAPING this city! Thy were running out of money, and now they are just fucking running! That’s why you were ignored. They’re on the run. They never gave a fuck about this place. It was a front to them, that’s all. Well, Taylor knows people who care about this place and THEY are the new trust. I know about Emma Agnews and I don’t care! If he wants to have anyone in this school, I will let him.”
Susan blinked at the principle.
“Taylor is a man. I am a woman. And you are a silly little girl.” Caroline shook her head and walked round the desk. “You think you see a nice boy, you marry him and live together in happiness. Happily ever after?”
“Don’t try and--”
“How many girlfriends has your father been seen in the papers with?”
“Shut up.” Susan told her.
“Your mother over her illness, sorry but let’s be honest, her suicide attempt?” Caroline asked.
“I’M TALKING ABOUT YOU AND THAT FUCKING NIGGER!” Susan yelled.
Caroline paused, smiling. “You want him as much as the rest of us.” she said and Susan slapped her. Caroline felt her cheek and slowlt rurned back. “You watched us,” she said quietly, “you saw that big, black cock slamming into me and you wanted it. Go and ask him. I don’t mind. You want him to take you over the desk? No problem.”
Susan stepped back, realising her hand was raised to hit again. “You... whore...” she muttered with disgust.
“You want that big nigger cock pumping away inside you. Admit it.” Caroline said. “Those big, black balls filling you with hot cum...”
Susan Coralli looked at the lust in Carline’s eyes and saw the principle was rubbing herself between the legs. “You are crazy,” she breathed and ran out. As she ran she heard the laughter come from the office.
“YOU FUCKIN’ WANT IT, TOO!” Caroline yelled after her.
It was only when she was halfway down the long, secluded drive of the grounds she stopped, braking the car and catching her breath. She looked around her, realising she had never looked at the place. She looked at the grounds and saw how spacious they were. Susan saw the building in the car’s mirror. She turned back and thought how wonderful it looked. How safe it seemed to feel. Had felt, she corrected herself. The stonework had been cleaned a few years ago, giving it the look it must have had when it was first built. She could name every room behind those windows. Susan stopped as she saw the window on the first floor. The Whore’s Office. For a second she thought she could see a figure standing there, looking out. Just a shadow she told herself. The whore would be telling the nigger everything. They’d laugh and then....
Susan felt the sadness inside her as she thought of the whore now in charge of the place. Susan turned back and looked at the road that lead to the gats and city beyond. The nigger had won. For now. The thought of him and the whore together was too much and she felt the sadness change to anger. She’d make someone listen. She would come back and drag that whore out by the hair. Someone would listen....
St Ignatious. Back of the playing fields. Evening.
Emma Agnews had gotten the phone call two hours ago. Taylor had told her where to go and when. “What about Wyatt?” she had asked.
“Don’t worry about her.” he told her.
And now she was making her way through the trees around the back of the playing fields. “Taylor?” Emma called out and heard a gasp. Emma stopped moving and listened carefully. More gasping. She crept towards the sound. Probably one of the girls with their boyfriend, she thought. Where was Taylor? She stopped again, listening to the gasping. There was something familiar about it. Something....
Emma moved forward then stopped as she saw them. Taylor Jameson, the black saint who’d saved her was standing there, a white woman in a achoolgirl uniform was on her knees in front of him with her hands behind her back. Taylor was gripping the woman’s head as his hips were thrusting towards her face. The woman was making gagging sounds. “...ahhhh....” he gasped. “Real good at that. ain’t you?”
“Ghhhhh...” the woman replied.
Emma pressed herself against a tree and watched as he yanked the woman’s head back and looked down at her. “Dirty little bitch,” he smiled.
“Mmmm...” the woman moaned.
Emma watched as Taylor grabbed his cock and gently slapped his huge, black shaft across the woman’s face. She felt a dull throb begin between her legs as she watched them. Taylor continued to slap his cock across the woman’s face as he talked to her. “You want this black fucker inside you?” he grinned.
“Hmmmm....” the woman moaned in response. Emma saw Taylor rubbing the large head of his cock over the woman’s face. The woman reveled in it. Emma gently rubbed herself as she continued to watch. She couldn’t take her eyes off the black cock as it played over the other woman’s face. She looked up and found herself meeting Taylor’s stare, eye-to-eye. “Come on over and get, Emma!” he said
The woman looked up then followed the black man’s eyes. Emma suddenly knew why he had been so certain. Caroline Wyatt , in the uniform and on her knees looked round and saw her. Emma felt herself jump as she wondered how the principle would react to her being there. She watched the principle slowly turn back and begin kissing the big, black cock in front of her.
“Come here,” the black man smiled.
Emma couldn’t stop herself. She slowly stepped out from behind the tree and walked towards them. Caroline Wyatt was moaning softly as she sucked on Taylor’s cock. “Everything’s cool.” he told Emma and pulled her towards him. He kissed her gently. “It’s all fine.” he smiled, staring deep into her eyes. Emma felt the throbbing between her legs become overpowering. “Isn’t it?” he asked.
“Yes.” Emma and Caroline said together before realising they’d done so. Emma looked down at and met Caroline’s eyes. She saw the smile and how small the woman’s hand seemed against the thick, black shaft. “Yes.” Emma said again, glancing at both his cock and down the principle’s exposed cleavage. “It’s all fine.”
Caroline licked her lips and pushed the cock towards Emma. “Welcome back,” she said.
Emma lowered herself to her knees and reached for the cock. It throbbed under her touch and her fingers brushed against Caroline’s. She looked at the woman and saw her smile. “It’s all fine,” Caroline said and Emma felt a hand touch her thigh.
IronRod looked down at the two white women. So easy, he thought, remembering how Caroline Wyatt’s pussy felt as they watched the video of Emma at the Lulu Club. Caroline was grinding down in his cock as they sat in her office and watched Emma kissing the girl. She was leaning forward onto the desk slowly circling her hips. “That gets you so hard, doesn’t it?” she’d asked, not taking her eyes from the security footage.
“Course.” he smiled, gripping her hips as he pushed his hands under her raised skirt. “Two hot women getting it on?” He slid a hand to her crotch and felt her clit. Caroline moaned as he gently rubbed it. “Rubbing each other...” He rubbed harder and Caroline moaned louder. She was pushing herself up and down his shaft, wanting him deeper inside her. IronRod stood up suddenly and pushed her across the desk, staying inside her. He pulled back then slammed his hips forward driving his cock into her balls-deep. Caroline gasped as he fucked her, taking his time as he wanted to enjoy the white pussy around his cock and the footage from the lesbian club...
Too fucking easy, he thought again and saw Emma begin to move towards his cock. “Wait.” he said and saw the disappointment on her face. “You gotta do one thing first.”
“What?” Emma breathed, slowly stroking the thick, black cock in her hand.
“You’ve got to swear the oath.” he told her.
“The oath?” she asked.
“The oath.” Caroline said with a smile. “You have to swear the oath.”
“I swear to uphold the truth,” he said. “Say it.”
Emma felt her pussy pulsing with lust for the cock in her hand. “I swear to uphold the truth.” she smiled....
IronRod watched them strip. Two fine-looking white bodies, willing and eager to give themselves to the black man, or woman. He smiled as Emma lay on the ground and slowly spread her legs. Her pussy was shaven. The lips glistening with cunt juices. Caroline gently stroked Emma’s thighs and lay beside her. Suddenly Emma rolled over and kissed her. Caroline froze for a second but soon melted under Emma’s lips and returned the kiss. She felt fingers gently push down between her thighs and opened them.
He removed his own clothes an watched as the two women kissed and fondled each other. He stroked his cock and looked up. It was a pleasant night. The cloudless sky meant the grounds were lit by moonlight. The school was perfect. Private and secluded. Blackshaft controlled it and it could be used to launder all that cash they had. And then come the next term, there would be all that young white pussy so eager to learn. No so-called mafia to get in the way. No precious mob princesses or their boyfriends to try and blackmail or fuck things up.
IronRod saw the two women were staring at him. Or at his cock. He eased the skin back letting the head shine in the moonlight. the women looked at each other. “I got plenty for both of you.” he told them and walked towards them. Both the horny white women spread their legs open. Too fucking easy, he thought, grinning....
“I go on vacation for a couple’a weeks and I come back to six fucking accidents and a fucking break-in!” the foreman said, looking at the guy he’d left in charge. Some asshole called Hoffa, of all things. He picked up his hard hat and put it on before standing up. He grabbed the plans and walked out. Hoffa started to follow him but he stopped him. “You have paperwork to do.”
“I was away.” the foreman said, waving his finger at him. “You should have had this shit done by now. You’re certain nothing was taken?”
Brenner nodded. “Yes, boss. “
“It’s just you don’t break in without taking out, you know?” the foreman said.
“Nothing was taken.” Hoffa said again. “It was probably kids.”
“Kids...” the foreman muttered. “Nothing was added, was it?”
Hoffa took a breath. “I am sick of you lot making fucking jokes about my name”
“Easy,” the foreman told him. “Maybe you should have taken the vacation.”
“I’m just fucking sick of the mafia jokes, that all.”
“Okay, I’ll talk to the guys. Tell them you--” Hoffa stopped him, pointing at him angrily. “I’ll talk to them.” He opened the plans. “What one was done two weeks ago?”
“Number four.” Hoffa said.
“The concrete set?”
“Yeah. It’s ready.”
The foreman opened the door and looked at the building site. he could see where pit number four was. A truck was reversing back to pour on the next layer of concrete. He didn’t know why Hoffa was complaining so much. It’s not like there was really any bodies buried out in the site....