Debbie, the white wife's side of the story of how her and her wimp husband fell into the clutches of a controlling, black bully .... and how they came to terms and accepted their new lifestyle.
Black Bully, White Wife PT 2 .. Debbie’s story.
To understand the dynamics, I strongly suggest you read Part One.
This is a saga story... if you want a quick flick, go elsewhere.
Hi, my name is Debbie, and I’m now 50yo. My husband, Patrick, and we live in a fabulous 6 bedroom home down by the bay. Our three teenage sons are all privately tutored, and we have four part-time helpers ….. a gardener, a house-maid, a tennis coach and a pool-guy.
We also own two new BMWs and a time-share cabin in the mountains.
I hardly work these days, except for spending time in my personal den which is set-up as an artist’s studio, and where I create oil-painted portraits from family photos. I usually take on a couple of commissions every month.
Patrick is just a tad older than me, and now 51, and although we’re in a solid financial position and he could probably take early retirement, he says he loves his job, even though it is quite lowly paid.
He’s openly said it’s a great excuse for him to get out of the house for 5 days a week, having spent several years being a part-time stay-at-home parent for our growing boys whilst I was fully focused and tied up with my own very lucrative career.
But allow me to take you way back to the beginning, to the start of the long journey of how we ended up in this place.
.........................
I was still an 18yo virgin when I started my literary course in college. Up to that point, I hadn’t really been interested in ‘boys’.
And maybe that was the key. They were ‘boys’.
But in college, there were men. Young men, yes, but masculine and macho none-the-less.
That’s where I met Raul. His father was French and his mother Tahitian, and he was a suave and tanned, handsome hunk. He’d had several girlfriends and lovers before I came along, and knew exactly how to treat a lady.
After several weeks of dating, I allowed him to take my virginity.
I knew he’d be respectful and gentle, and know what to do and how to do it. I’ll be forever grateful for his thoughtful kindness.
His loving tenderness made that first time very special.
We made love several more times over the following weeks, always with that same tender, kindness. But for some reason I never had an orgasm, so Raul and I talked in great intimate detail, and he was very understanding and patient. He explained I was missing out on one of the greatest experiences a human being could have, and that’s when he broached a radical suggestion ……. Perhaps I should have sex with a different man.
I was shocked at first, thinking that Raul and I were at the start of a serious and long term relationship. But Raul explained I should at least try this little experiment, even if it was only just the one time.
I finally, reluctantly agreed, although Raul referring to it as merely being ‘personal research’ seemed to vastly underestimate the strain it would place on my moral compass.
To my naïve mind, it was a monumental proposition.
But Raul had been very persuasive, adding that I owed him, being so caring and gentle when he took my ‘flower’.
He seemed to be bursting with enthusiasm when I finally agreed, and suggested I should spend a night with his good friend Spider, and would explain the situation to him and set it up.
Four nights later I was naked in Spider’s bed.
To say they had different styles doesn’t even come close.
Although Spider did start off slow and gentle, with lots of oral to add to my ever increasing juices, once his hardness had entered my wetness, it didn’t take long for him to ramp up the vigor. Within minutes he was pounding me with so much energy and veiled aggression, he was quite literally taking my breath away. Truly, there was nothing I could do to stop him as I lay stricken and helpless under his fierce, thrusting weight as he pummeled me into the mattress.
But after five minutes of this callous, rough treatment, I had my first orgasm …..
and then another ….. and another, all of which came as an unimaginable shock.
It felt like I was being consumed by fire and I thought I was going to pass out, as my whole body flailed in uncontrollable spasms.
He continued to use me for what seemed like hours, and left me spent like a worn-out and lifeless, rag doll.
What the hell just happened, I asked myself? I must have had about ten orgasms in the space of an hour, and never expected the experience to be so overwhelming, consuming and intense.
The next morning, as daybreak filtered through the drapes, Spider climbed aboard and again was demanding and eager. His hard morning wood and his cruel, vicious thrusting gave me another four more glorious orgasms.
I was hopelessly and helplessly hooked.
I gladly went back to his bed the next night.
………
It wasn’t until after my third session with Spider that the penchants and predilections of my true personality began to dawn on my naïve and immature psyche.
That third night, Spider had really turned it on.
He’d pulled my hair, he hard-slapped my face and spat in my mouth, and left harsh bite bruises on my neck and both breasts.
But he unleashed more than just vindictive, physical abuse that night.
As the thrusting, broad girth of his hardness pummeled my poor vagina into surrender, inflicting yet more shaming and humiliating orgasms, he also unleashed venom with his words. He called me a worthless piece of shit, a pathetic slab of fuck-meat, a spineless cum-dumpster, a cheap and easy whore ….. adding that after he used me, he was going to throw out onto the street still naked like a worthless piece of trash.
He said nasty, little bitches like me ought to be tied up and gang-banged, and when he saw his suggestion caused yet another orgasm, he said the punishment for cheap, easy sluts like me was to be beaten black and blue, suspended naked and horse-whipped, then gang-raped for hour after hour.
And I loved every second of it.
…………………...
The next day, after that night of brutal, cruel treatment, and despite being quite sore in various places, my thoughts turned to calm recollection and reflection.
How I’d willingly gone to Spider’s bed.
The ease with which he’d stripped away all my self-respect, dignity and self-worth, then comprehensively smashed it to pieces …..
How I hadn’t lifted a finger in defense against his vile degradation.
And how his vicious, cruel treatment had made me cum.
I couldn’t stop daydreaming about it, and then began to crave it.
I wanted to be tied up …. I wanted to be beaten …. I wanted to be brutally gang-raped.
I realized I was a natural born masochist.
……………………….
But as it turned out, I would never see Spider again.
Two days later, he was arrested for aggravated assault. Apparently, he’d beaten the holy be-Jesus out of one of the other college girls who he’d had tied naked to his bed in his dorm-room.
According to the newspaper report, she’d been rushed to hospital with multiple laceration and bite marks and scratches, a black eye and other bruises, severe whip welts on her back and ‘other areas’. The report then added that her convulsing struggles had also caused severe rope burns to both her ankles and wrists as she’d tried to evade his cruel torture.
I cut-out and kept that newspaper clipping. For some reason I found its words were too arousing for my own good. Maybe a part of me really was all sick and twisted, as I wished that poor, smashed-up girl had been me.
…………….
I then decided it best to become celibate for a while. If reading about vicious and perverted sexual abuse had made me sexually aroused, then maybe I’d best take a step back, and reluctantly, I even broke up with Raul.
I must admit, I’d seriously considered seeking out another ‘Spider’, but common sense prevailed, and I reverted to concentrating on my studies and being a prim and proper young lady.
.................
It was two month later when I met Patrick at a college disco. I was just days away from my 19th birthday, and he’d just celebrated his 21st.
I liked his friendly humor from the start. He was quite handsome in a naïve, boyish kinda way, and it was pretty much mutual love at first sight. He was such a refreshing change from the pushy macho jocks who seemed to have too much love for themselves, and who were always trying their luck.
Don’t get me wrong. I loved looking at muscle-bound hunks and imagining what they’d be like in the bedroom. But as soon as any had engaged me in conversation, it was obvious they should’ve spent less time on the sports-field and more time reading mags like Cosmo.
My friendship with Patrick steadily blossomed over the next year, and although he was a safe and pleasant guy to be with, sometimes I thought he was just a little 'too nice’.
He confided in me he’d previously been the beta in a sexually abusive relationship, and although his confession sounded perversely intriguing, I never pressed the point, and he never said who with or for how long.
He said his dream was to spend the rest of his life with a girl like me.
I too could see myself spending my life with someone like him, and I never told him about my episodes with Spider.
So, eighteen months after that night at the disco, we ended up getting married.
A few months later our college courses ended, and I started working as an assistant in a bookstore. Despite his qualifications, Patrick became an office minion, and with such modest incomes, we decided not to have children straight away.
The months rolled by, which somehow turned into years, and our savings slowly but steadily grew, until we finally decided to bite the bullet and start looking to buy a house.
I had just turned 25 and getting anxious to start having babies. We’d always planned to have a couple of kids, but I’d insisted we had a mortgage on our own home before we did.
It was then, for the first time in our marriage, our harmonious union hit a speed-bump.
Buying a house is a life changing milestone, and its multitude of valid considerations was causing tensions between us. I was actively charging ahead, looking at heaps of realtor brochures and wanting to spend probably far much more than we could afford.
Patrick was being conservative and realistic, and I began to perceive his caution as a stymie to my idealistic hopes and dreams.
It all came to a head one rainy Sunday late Spring evening when we had a massive row.
Despite it being almost midnight, I was so upset, I rang my Mom.
Our pique had cooled by morning, and taking Mom’s advice I informed Patrick I was going to stay with my good friend Angie for a few nights, and would return when he’d picked out a house to buy.
Mom had wisely pointed out we’d probably only have to put up with our first home for a couple of years, five tops, before we’d be in a position to move forwards and upwards, and several more years down the track, that period of impost would seem like the blink of an eye. Mom had said to just let Patrick get on and choose a house we could afford for now, and it would be best if I just got out of his way.
So, the morning after the argument, I went to my job at the library to do my morning shift as usual, but told them some bullshit story about a sick relative, and I’d have to be away for a few days. When I returned home at lunchtime I packed a suitcase, and long before Patrick was due home, took a taxi to the rail-station, and four hours later Angie picked me up and drove me to her fancy apartment down by the ocean.
We hadn’t seen each other for over a year, and spent a couple of hours with giggly, girly, catch-up, chit chat. We ordered a take-out for a late dinner, and despite it now being almost 9pm, we dolled ourselves up and took a taxi to a downtown night-club.
With Patrick and I having spent the last few years saving almost every cent we could, it was awesome to go out and blow some cash.
We had several expensive cocktails, but Angie paid for most of them anyway.
Angie danced with a couple of guys, but gave them the brush-off after a few minutes with each, aware I’d wanted to remain alone at our table.
Each time she returned, she brought back a couple more cocktails, and as we were chatting, a tall, handsome, black hunk caught my eye.
“Wow, he’s a bit of eye-candy,” I mentioned, having seen he’d also been returning my brief glances across the room.
“He sure is, but don’t even think about it,” Angie replied.
"Oh, I’m definitely thinking, but I would never cheat on Patrick,” I breezed.
“Well then, you’d better stop thinking, ‘cos what he’s got between his ears and his legs could get you into all sorts of trouble,” Angie replied.
“Oooh, do tell,” was my immediate response. It’d been a while since I’d been out and about.
Angie then spent the next ten minutes telling me all about this handsome yet fearsome looking hunk. How he’d already done time for assault and battery, aggravated burglary, carrying a deadly weapon and theft, and was lucky to wriggle out of several charges of sexual assault, one of which was his alleged involvement in a particularly nasty and brutal gang-rape. There were also rumors that he was so high up in the pecking order that he wasn’t a pimp, but no, he had a couple of pimps working for him. She’d heard he was due back in court in a couple of days, where he was looking at another six months stretch in the slammer.
“And just exactly how do you know all this?” was my obvious question.
“His antics are common knowledge around here. All the nice girls keep well away.”
“He’s still a hunk, though, ain’t he? Have you been with him?” I asked at the end of her long, educational sermon.
“You must be joking. A cop acquaintance told me he’s one crazy son-of-a-bitch. The only thing he’s got going for him is the bastard is hung like a donkey.”
“Oh, really?” I unladylike blurted. Her revelation had piqued an unwholesome interest.
“’A good friend of mine, Candice, went with him once,” revealed Angie.
“Really? What happened?” I had to know.
“About a year ago she was working the street corner down near the casino when he came up and asked ‘how much?’ She’d heard about his reputation, and said to go get lost. Anyways, he pulled out a big wedge of notes and said ‘name your price.’ So she went back to his hotel and they both stripped off, and she told me … oh my god she’d said …… she’s seen a lot of cocks, but this one was a real doozy. That’s when she tried to back out, but he slapped her around like he was gonna kill her, then went at her for about two hours before he fell asleep. She said she took 600 out of his wallet and did a runner before he woke up, but she said even that wasn’t worth all the soreness and agro.”
“Oh, wow. And have you seen him out and about since?”
“A couple o' times, but I know where he hangs out so I usually try and avoid him. I’m surprised he’s in here tonight, actually. I’ve never seen him in here before.”
“Have you ever considered getting him back for slapping Candice around,” I naively asked.
“Nah. That kind of shit goes with the territory, you know that. Besides, Candice said she’d kinda enjoyed it once he got going. Average gets a bit boring when you get them all the time.”
“But being slapped around though. I mean, I don’t know if I could ….... “ …. my words trailed away.
“I bet it’s nice to have a hubby who always treats you right, though, huh?”
“Of course. With Patrick, I don’t expect anything else.”
“So he’s never pinned you down and bonked the holy crap outta ya for a couple of hours?”
“No, of course not, silly. Patrick’s not like that.”
“Then you don’t know what you’re missing, girl. It’s called raw passion.”
“I think I might call it something else.” I declared.
…………………….
It was at this point when a guy breezed over to our table and nodded ‘hi’ to me and started talking to Angie.
“Not working tonight?” he asked in a light, friendly tone.
“Not tonight. My friend here is visiting from out o’ town and staying over for a couple o’ nights …. Debbie, this is Tom … Tom, this is Debbie.”
“En-chante,” he said, with a big, candy smile. “I hope you’re enjoying our fair city?”
“Now, now, Tom. Don’t get started …. She’s married,” Angie chided.
“So she’s not …. ?” Tom started, but Angie cut him off with a sharp, “No, she’s not.”
“I was going to ask, ‘free for lunch tomorrow’, smarty-pants,” added Tom.
........…….
The rest of the evening and the next morning were pretty much uneventful until lunchtime, when I found myself sitting opposite Tom at a table in a fancy downtown restaurant, whilst Angie was fulfilling a pre-arranged appointment.
Our conversation was congenial and interesting, with Tom being a free-lance writer with plenty of enthralling tall tales to tell. It was quite pleasant having a ‘play-date’ with someone other than Patrick for a change. It made me feel super-relaxed and happy.
After the meal, Tom drove us down to the ocean, and we went for a long stroll along an almost deserted beach, it being a weekday afternoon.
The sun was beaming down, and with Tom having left his jacket and tie in the car, he stripped off his shirt and flung it over his shoulder, and then walked along topless at my side.
It seemed so naughty, walking next to a handsome, half-naked guy I hardly knew, and I’m ashamed to say I felt occasional twinges of arousal. That’s when I asked if we could sit down for a break, because walking was becoming quite uncomfortable.
We sat and chatted some more, and that’s when Tom said it was a shame I wasn’t in the same line of work as Angie, because he happily pay for my time. I reminded him I was happily married, which he conceded, but suggested I go back to his place anyway, just for a drink before he took me home.
I don’t know what I was thinking, but I found myself agreeing to his suggestion.
Half an hour later we’re back at his place, sitting side by side on his sofa while we sipped on fine red wine. That’s when my cell beeped with an incoming call which would change my life forever ….. It was Angie.
“Hi, sweetie,” she breezed, “Everything going Ok?”
“Sure, how’s things with you?”
She then informed me she’d be busy for the rest of the day, and probably not back at her apartment until tomorrow. I was dismayed, but I understood. She’d given up working street corners months ago, but still had to pay for her fancy apartment, and had to grab lucrative work whenever it came along.
When I informed Tom she’d be away until tomorrow and I would be going back to an empty apartment, he was really kind and supportive. He said we should finish our wine so he could take me home to rest up before getting changed so he could take me out again for dinner.
It seemed like an excellent idea, yes? Tom had been a true gentleman all day.
When I agreed to his suggestion, he simply said, “That’s great. Terrific. We have a deal.”
…………………….
And so it was.
He dropped me off at Angie’s, then took off, saying he’d be back at eight o’clock sharp.
I had a long nap, then a shower, then rummaged through Angie’s wardrobe, ***********ing a fine evening dress which fit me. I then dolled myself up in full make-up, and sat and patiently waited.
At eight on the dot, Tom knocked on the door saying our cab was waiting, and off we went for another night out on the town.
After we’d dined at a fancy, boutique restaurant, we went to a nightclub where we danced for a couple of hours, and where he kept buying me margarita after margarita. Although it all seemed a bit naughty, it was fun being on what could be classed as a first date with a stranger.
About 10pm my cell had beeped a message from Angie saying she definitely wouldn’t be home until tomorrow lunchtime.
I texted her back, saying ‘OK’. I told Tom, who said he too had to send a couple of messages, but assured me everything was cool.
About 11.30 Tom and I went outside and stood in the queue at a nearby rank and chatted and flirted as we waited for the next taxi. The plan was innocent enough. I was quite tipsy from all the margaritas, so Tom was to ensure our taxi dropped me back to Angie’s where he’d walk me to the door, but then he’d have to take his leave, having to be up bright and early the next morning for an important meeting with his publisher.
I was quite surprised, even a bit scared, when the same fearsome black guy from the night before was standing in the queue just behind us. It may have been those many margaritas, or maybe something else, but I couldn’t stop myself from throwing him occasional glances. For whatever reason, Angie’s stories about this vicious, cruel thug had struck a subconscious chord. He must’ve caught my glances, because he suddenly said to Tom straight out,
“Restrain your whore, there, fella. Her evil eye is starting to annoy me.”
Tom told him to mind his own business, which is when this thug seemed to snap, pushing poor Tom up against the wall and grabbing him by the throat. As I was watching, not sure what to do, I’m sure I saw Tom’s hand reach out, and the thug seemed to hand over something. With hindsight, maybe there was more to what had just transpired than met the eye. I looked around to see if anybody in the queue would step in to intervene, but no-one did. To be honest, in my fuzzy state of panic, and with all the pushing and shoving and shouting, I’m not sure how it happened, but next thing I knew, this big, fearsome thug was bundling me into a taxi, leaving Tom laying on the sidewalk with both hands clutching his dripping, bloody nose.
“Drive”, this black thug barked at the driver, and the taxi sped away from the mayhem we’d left behind on the side-walk.
“Where you headed?” he then snarled down at me as I slumped in the seat next to my abductor.
“My friend’s apartment,” I replied blankly.
“What, that poncy dude’s place?” he asked, meaning poor Tom.
“No, my girlfriends,” I simply replied.
“So she’s expecting yous?” he growled again.
“No, she’s away,” I stupidly but honestly answered, intimidated by his urgent, growling questions.
“So, you and I can have an all-night party, with no chance that you gonna be missed,” he assessed, before speaking to the driver in what sounded like Spanish, but which unmistakably included the word ‘habitacion’, which I knew for sure meant ‘hotel’.
“No, please, I can’t …… “ I started.
“Can’t what?” he cut me off.
“I’m married,” I stated.
“And lover boy back there is your husband?” he asked, in a tone where he already knew the answer.
“No,” I again admitted the truth, which made the whole situation look bad.
“So you were heading back to your friend's place for a night of cheating?” he scoffed.
“No, you don’t understand ….” I offered.
“Oh, I understand all right. Look at yourself, you lying, whore bitch, all liquored up and ready to rock with some ponce that’s not even your husband,” he mocked.
“No, it’s not like that ….” I again began to offer defense.
“No, it ain’t like that …. It’s gonna be like this …. You’re coming with me to a private place where we can both get better acquainted, kapeesh?” he snapped.
“No, please, I …..” my words cut short with a stinging swat up the side of my head which caused my loud “Oww”, as the driver looked intently at his mirror.
“You Ok, miss?” he asked in a rich Spanish lilt, I suppose out of duty of care.
“She’s fine, aren’t you hun? …. Go on, tell the man you’re absolutely fine,” as this thug squeezed a tight grip on my thigh.
“I’m fine,” I said blankly, knowing I was anything but.
……….
After the taxi had pulled into the drop-off zone at what seemed like an upmarket hotel, and the driver had been over-paid with what looked like a fifty, and with my captor’s harsh grasp on the back of my neck, I was steered to a lift which took us to a large room on quite a high floor.
..………
“So, you’re a married whore, eh?” he asked, as he roughly pushed me over to the bed and caused me to sit on its edge.
“I’m not a …. I’m happily married,” I blurted my excuse.
“Happy enough to go off with another guy. So who was he? A boyfriend, a lover …. family?”
“I hardly knew him,” I stupidly admitted, giving my tormentor more ammunition to fire back.
“But you were gonna let him fuck you, yes, ‘cos it sure looked that way to me?”
“No, it was all a mistake …. This whole trip is a big mistake,” at which point I broke down and started sobbing.
“It’ll be an even bigger mistake if you don’t shut the fuck up. You obviously don’t want to be here, so you can go as soon as we’re through,” he said, as he started removing his jacket.
“No …. Please …. I don’t want ….” I stuttered between sobs.
“I don’t care what you want. You’re a fuckin’ whore and gonna deal with whatever I want,” he growled, as he then started removing his shirt.
“No, please, Tom was just a friend,” my sobs abating as I tried to plead my defence.
“Then why did you say you were glad your husband wasn’t there to see you, and don’t deny it, ‘cos I heard it plain as day?”
“What I meant was ….” I started, but he cut me off with his own words.
“You didn’t want hubby to know you’d let another man fill you with liquor before going back to his apartment,” he twisted my words, as he started removing his trousers.
“It wasn’t like that,” I protested.
“But I bet you were horny thinking about it, though, huh?” he demanded, as he tossed his trousers to one side, and stood before me in just a pair of boxers, which were now blatantly and lewdly bulging at the front. I couldn’t help but take a quick glance before averting my eyes, but it was obvious he was packing a huge package. “I bet you’re horny even now.”
“No, I …. “ I started, but then squirmed as I sat perched on the edge of the mattress, suddenly realising that despite everything which had just happened, indeed I actually was.
“Cat got ya tongue?” noting I’d stopped short with my sentence.
“No,” I simply said flatly.
“But the way you just squirmed tells me you’re as horny as fuck and daren’t admit it,” he mocked.
“No,” I squawked, as I quickly crossed my legs and felt myself flush a bright red.
“Liar,” he responded with a gloat.
“No,” I again claimed as I shuffled myself back, sitting fully on the mattress, as I clamped my crossed legs even tighter.
“Let me see then,” he demanded, and as he started approaching, I shuffled even further back, hoping to avoid what was obviously coming.
He knelt on the bed beside me and swatted my arms to one side. When one of his hands forced its way between my clamped legs and found its way to my pussy, there was no way I could possibly hide it. The crotch of my panties was sopping wet.
He suddenly grabbed me harshly by the hand, dragging me off the bed and standing me upright on my feet.
“If you’re not butt naked in the next thirty seconds, I swear to God, I’m gonna throw you out through that window.”
I knew we were on at least the fifteenth floor, and the bark in his voice sounded so manic and menacing, I couldn’t see I had much of an option. I quickly ripped off all my clothes as quickly as I could, then placed my hands to try cover my embarrassment.
“Mmmm, nice,” he taunted, as his crazed leer feasted itself on my body.
“Please don’t. I don’t want …..” I started, but he again cut me off.
“Oh, but it seems you do want, you cheating little whore. When I just touched it, your cute little cunny was dripping like a tap,” he mocked, as he then gave me a stinging swat across my face, causing me to fall backwards onto the mattress, with my legs still dangling over the side.
“Please, I need to use the loo,” I suddenly blurted, which actually was the real truth.
He reached in and put his hand to my throat, forcing the back of my head down into the mattress. The wild, manic glare he then gave me still haunts me to this very day.
After several long, tense seconds as that glare bored into my soul, his hand suddenly released its hold on my throat and much to my relief he said, “Ok ….. but any funny business and you won’t live long enough to regret it.”
He shadowed my every move as I walked to the bathroom, then leaned against the doorframe of the wide open door until I’d finished and wiped myself dry.
“Bed,” he then barked and pointed, and again, I saw no other option.
Looking back, what happened next seems creepy and bizarre, ‘cos for a couple of minutes we simply lay naked and side by side on our backs in complete silence. I had my hands covering my breasts and sex as best I could, and he lay quite still and silent, with his huge, black erection pointing up lewdly towards the ceiling. After what seemed like an eternity, but was probably about three minutes, he spoke.
“So, you really are married?”
I raised my left hand and wiggled the finger which bore my gold band.
“So, what were you thinking, going out and getting dizzy drunk with a guy you claim you barely even know?” he quizzed, seeming sincere in his tone.
I simply gulped, not really knowing the answer myself.
“Well?” he pressed. “You not getting enough attention at home?”
I felt I had to properly respond. “No, it’s not that. We’ve been saving for a house and it’s the first time I’ve been out for a while.”
“So you were just letting loose for the first time in a long time, huh?”
“Suppose,” I conceded.
“So why are you horny?”
“I’m not.”
“Liar, fucking liar. Don’t you ever lie to me again,” he spat, as he suddenly rolled onto his side to face me with that same crazed glare he’d unleashed before, as his hand found its way to my throat. “Dip a finger in your cunt and then show me.”
It took me a couple of seconds to realize what he was asking, before I inserted my middle finger into my wet sex, then conveyed the sticky glisten to a few inches from his face.
“See, you are a fucking liar ….. Now lick it clean,” he ordered.
I hesitated for quite a long moment. It was something I’d never done before, and didn’t really want to do now.
“Go on, you lying bitch, savor your own juices. You know you’ll soon be savoring mine.”
I shuddered at the thought, as I inserted my sticky finger into my mouth, then slowly pulled it out from between my closed lips.
“Now suck on it. Put it back in and suck it.”
I looked at him as if he’d gone crazy, but as he glared back I knew he was serious, so I started to suckle and slurp on my own finger.
“God, you’re so sexy when you do that. It makes me want to fuck you so bad.”
I don’t know what came over me, but I then inserted another finger into my mouth, and then another, and started sucking and slurping on my own three fingers.
This caused my captor to remove his hand from my throat and move it down to my wet and horny sex. When one of his fingers started worming its way between my tightly closed legs, I couldn’t stop them from relaxing and easing further apart, affording him far better access.
I allowed my legs to drift even further apart as two of his fat fingers worked in and out of my sopping wet sex, as I continued to suck on three of my fingers.
“You dirty, fucking bitch,” he breathed in my ear. “You’re loving this, aren’t you?” as his erection pressed into the side of my thigh.
“Mmmm,” I moaned through my fingers. I hadn’t been this turned on since my sessions with Spider. I’d suddenly recalled the wild stories Angie had told me, and knew this guy was one sick, crazy bastard, but I wanted him to hurt me so bad.
‘You had kids?” he suddenly asked.
“Uh uh,” I moaned, whilst shaking my head no as I slobbered on my probing three fingers.
“You gonna be tight, then, aren’t you?” he said flatly, “so I suppose I’d better start easy. But you WILL do everything I say, or I’ll snap your married spine like a twig, kapeesh?”
..............
Needless to say, he then proceeded to use and abuse me in ways which would have even made Spider gasp in awe. Three hours later I was totally spent, and lay limp like a worn out piece of rag. Within minutes we were both laying in deep sleep.
………..
When I awoke, daylight was streaming through the drapes, and I was bursting for a pee.
My thug captor was nowhere to be seen, as I slowly and gingerly eased myself off the side of the bed and made my way to the bathroom. There was no mistaking the woozy fuzz of a hang-over, but there were also parts of me which were still tender and sore.
…………..
A short time later I’d dressed myself and was sitting on the stool in front of the mirror-backed dresser and had just started brushing my mussed hair when there was a sharp knock at the door. When I answered, there was a bus-boy with a trolley, who announced, “Breakfast for one, and a note for the lady, which I assume, madame, is you,” as he wheeled in the trolley and handed me a small white envelope.
“I guess so,” I answered, accepting the delivery, and the bus-boy then promptly departed.
I read the note.
“Enjoy your breakfast. I’ll be out all day. There’s some cash in the top drawer. Take whatever you need to buy yourself something VERY sexy. Be back here at 8pm sharp, and don’t dare do anything stupid to make me angry. You wouldn’t want anything bad to happen to Angie.”
Apparently my thug wouldn’t be returning to disturb me, so I ate my breakfast, then took a quick shower, having still being quite icky and sticky.
I dried my hair and got dressed for the second time that morning, then when I opened the dresser top drawer as requested by the note, I nearly fell over backwards. I’ve never had much to do with cash, but I guessed if you added up all the fat wads of bank-notes, there must’ve been close to a hundred thousand dollars.
I pondered for several long moments, then peeled out half a dozen fifties, then after more moments of ponder, peeled out half a dozen more.
…………………………
I arrived back at Angie’s in the early afternoon with two boutique carry-bags of sexy lingerie and new clothing. I let myself in with the spare key and I found her asleep on the lounge.
I set the alarm on my phone for 6pm, curled up on my bed and fell asleep.
…………………..
When my alarm started beeping, I opened my eyes to see Angie peering down.
“Good morning, sleepy-head,” she innocently spoke, causing me to jolt myself upright in startled panic.
“What time is it?” I frantically asked.
“6pm, why? What’s gotten into you?” noting my obvious angst.
“I thought for a second I might’ve overslept. I’ve kinda got an appointment.”
“Yeah, right. A hot date, more like. I see you’ve been shopping at Vic Secrets.”
“That’s a surprise for Patrick for when I get home.”
“That’s Ok then. But what’s this appointment? I was hoping for another night out on the town.”
“Ok, you got me. My plans might end up being a late night. Can we make us the night after?”
“Now let me see. You say you’re happily married and saving for a house and ain’t got much cash. Then you go and blow a small fortune on sexy gear the same day you’ve got this evening ‘appointment’. Now you’re saying you might be out late. What’s really going on, Debs?”
“Well, I suddenly came into a little extra cash, and ……. “
“Oh no, what have you done?” sighed Angie, rolling her eyes in despair.
“I don’t want to lie to you, Angie. Please don’t ask.”
“Ok, I won’t pester you about your plans ….. But on one condition, deal?”
“That depends ……. “
“Deal or not?”
“Ok, deal.”
“Solemn deal?”
“Yeah, Ok, solemn deal.”
“Then show us your tits,” said Angie.
”Excuse me?” I squawked back in shock.
“We have a deal, now show us your tits.”
I reluctantly and slowly lifted my T, exposing the several hickey bruises I had on both breasts.
“Oh, Debs, you fell for his trick, didn’t you?”
“Why, what do you mean?”
“Did he threaten Tom, and then take you from right under his nose?”
“Tom’s bloody nose, yes.”
“Oh, Debs, Debs, Debs. There’s nothing I can do for you now. He’s looking at another stretch when he fronts court in a couple of days, which means he’s got nothing to lose.”
“What should I do? Go into hiding?”
“It’s far too late for that. If you don’t do his exact bidding, either him or some of his cronies will go after someone you care about, and that now unfortunately includes me. I live here, and don’t want to leave. If I stay and have a target on my back, God only knows what they’d end up doing. I wished you’d taken my advice, Debs. Now it’s all down to you.”
“I have to go then, don’t I ?”
“And pray he has a soft spot for you, yes. Those he dislikes end up broken.”
…………………………..
I showered and put on my new, sexy underwear, then applied some glitzy make-up.
I wriggled into my skimpy new top and skirt, then concealed my attire with my new, full-length fake-leather coat.
Despite everything, it had been fun spending someone else’s money.
……………………………
I was shaking and more nervous than I’d ever been as I knocked on that hotel room door at exactly 8pm.
I had no idea what to expect.
I was totally surprised to find he had a bottle of Champagne on ice, accompanied by a tray of fancy hors d’oeuvres. He politely took my coat and hung it neatly in the closet. He pulled out a chair at the small dining table, simply saying a single word, “Sit.”
We sat opposite each other at the table, scrutinizing each other for several long moments in silence. I was the first one to make a sound. I opened my mouth and started, “ I ……. “
“Shut the fuck up,” his loud, sharp bark and his open palms slamming down onto the table with a loud bang cutting me off, causing me to flinch in startled surprise and abject fear.
“My bitches only speak when spoken to. Get that in your head from the start, kapeesh?”
I swallowed a nervous gulp. This guy is way off his trolley, I assessed. Definitely mentally unstable.
“Help yourself to a snack,” he then quietly spoke, waving his hand across the top of the snack tray. “Champagne?” he then quietly asked.
I answered with a nod ‘yes’ of my head. Don’t speak, I told myself, don’t speak. This guy is definitely bat-shit crazy.
………………………………
Several minutes later, whilst sipping champagne as he calmly told me his life story, I was allowed to speak one single word in answer to his question.
“Debbie”.
The rest of the time, he talked and talked and talked, revealing quite a lot about himself.
His name was Malik, and had been a jock at Drums Leigh College. He’d briefly studied law, which is how he got mixed up with criminal biker gangs. Within months he was a biker gang leader, and was committing all sorts of crime. His appearance in court the day after tomorrow was about a break and enter, but with a plea deal he’d be getting only six months.
He complimented me on my sexy crop-top and skirt, and asked if it was his money which had paid the bill. I answered with an embarrassed smile and a slight dip of my head. He said he couldn’t wait to see what was underneath. He asked if I’d enjoyed myself the previous night, and I couldn’t stop myself flushing red as again I gave one dip of my head.
What I would’ve liked to have done was humiliate and offer myself by blurting the perverse reality swirling around in my head ……
“You know full well I did, you fucking asshole. And I’m raging horny for you to do it all again.”
He then surprised me with another unexpected statement.
“There don’t seem to be much of my cash missing …. Sensible girl ….. Do you want to take a bit more?”
I gave him a quizzical look, suspicious at where this might be going.
“Well?” he barked at my inertia.
I gave a couple of affirming nods, which he answered with, “Well, go get some. You know where it is.”
I went to the drawer and peeled off six of the fifties, then closed the drawer and re-took my seat at the table.
“Show me,” he ordered, and I held out the $300. “Put it in your purse,” he instructed, as he fished out a cell phone from one of his pockets. “Two in ten,” he spoke at his phone, before slipping it back in his pocket.
“Stand and strip,” he then said calmly. I furrowed my brow in response.
“You heard me. Stand up and give me a look-see at this new lingerie my money has paid for.”
Two minutes later I’m standing in front of Malik wearing nothing but my matching lacy and erotic, skimpy bra and panties.
“Any reason you picked yellow?” he asked, maybe hoping I would speak.
I shrugged my shoulders.
“Good girl, you learn fast,” he noted, before adding, “Now lay down on the bed.”
Two minutes later there’s a knock on the door, and Malik greets two big, black guys who appeared to be in their mid thirties.
“Come on in and take a look-see and say what you think. It’s married, white pussy, just like you asked for,” then at me, “Hey, bitch, show ‘em your band.”
I obediently lifted my left hand to show them.
“This here bitch is the trophy wife of some old, rich dude, and aching to be used, assuming you want her,” to which the big, black guys both eagerly garbled at once, “Yeah, sure man,” “Sure thing.” “Sweet.” “Absolutely.”
“Well, lick it, then fuck it, but don’t leave no marks. And if it speaks, let me know, pain is my department. One hour, 400 each, pussy only, yes? You can cum in her cunt as much as you want ….. with this one, there’s no need for condoms, Ok?”
The big, black guys grinned at each other and again garbled their affirmation, “Wow, sure man,” “That’s ace.” “Sweet mama.” “Absolutely.”
Malik then waltzed out through the door, leaving me alone with these two fearsome black strangers who had already started to strip off their clothes.
I hadn’t expected this, and was shocked that Malik had put me in such a situation. I was raging horny, sure, but that was for Malik, and was desperately trying to think of a way to get out of what was undoubtably coming. But as they both started to clamber onto the bed, and as my heart was beating like a drum, I suddenly began to feel very woozy. The room seemed to float and then zoom in and out, as my body became heavy and it seemed impossible to move. My conscious mind then felt like it was drifting across the room, then higher, and up near the ceiling. I was definitely having an out-of-body experience.
I realized the lousy prick must have slipped something into my drink, as I sank deeper into a mindless and care-free stupor.
I knew exactly what these two guys were gonna do, but it didn’t seem to matter anymore.
I then felt a swarm of hands all over my body, pawing and claiming, and stripping away my lacy bra and panties.
More hands had grasped onto my ankles, as my legs were pulled spread wide apart. Something warm and fleshy then started working at my sex, unavoidable and insistent, causing an intense and consuming, euphoric rush. Within moments my first orgasm had engulfed me.
I was gone. I was theirs for the taking.
……………………………………
After what seemed like an eternity, but was exactly one hour, Malik returned to the room, as the two black guys had just started to dress.
They gush thanked Malik, paid their bill, and shuffled out.
Malik then came over to where I lay on the bed, still breathless, washed out and exhausted.
“Enjoy yourself?” he asked.
“Bastard,” I spat back.
“Now, now, that didn’t answer my question, so I’ll ask again. Enjoy yourself?”
“You know damn well I did, you fucking cunt,” I let rip. “Probably got a camera somewhere keeping tabs. Don’t ever do that again, fucking asshole.”
“My baby sounds upset. They make you cum?”
“Fuck off,” I spat, still fuming. “Were they clean?”
“Both married, so they’ll be Ok. They just wanted a piece of married, white pussy. It’s a black vengeance on the rich, white-man kinda thing.”
“Their fantasy, not mine,” I spat again.
“They made you cum, though, huh? I bet they made you cum.”
“All right, yes they made me cum. Over and over, if you really wanna know, after whatever was in that shit that you gave me.”
“Black guys made her cum, black guys made her cum,” Malik sang as a deliberate cruel taunt.
“Fucking cunt,” I hissed again, still fuming.
“Ok, that’s enough,” Malik barked back, “Or else my newest whore will be put in her place,” as he started to remove his jacket.
“No,” I squawked, “No more, please, no more …… Besides, I need a pee.”
“Go then, and wipe yourself, but then get back here. You and I aren’t done.” as he raised his right hand as if to swat me.
He was laying naked on the bed when I returned, his flaccid manhood flopped to one side over the top of his thigh. Even when soft, it was still quite impressive. I laid myself down beside him.
“Did you speak to them?” he asked.
“No,” was my honest answer.
“Tell me true, ‘cos if I find out you’re lying, I swear …..”
“Honest, I didn’t. Anyways, was too spaced out and too busy.”
“But you enjoyed it, yeah?”
“Yeah, I enjoyed it,” I admitted again with a sigh.
“You been with two black guys before?”
“No.”
“Were they different? I mean, did they do it different?”
“There’s more than one way?” I asked with a snort.
“You enjoyed it though?”
“For Christ’s sake, what’s wrong with you? They both fucked me, they came, I came, that’s it.”
“You sore?”
“A bit, why?”
“’Cos I wanna fuck you.”
“You need to ask permission now?” I asked, surprised. “You didn’t ask me last night.”
“It was you who was asking last night.”
“Was not.”
“So how come, after slapping you around, your puss was almost dripping like a tap?”
“Was not.”
“You’re starting with the lies again. I’ve told you, don’t ever, ever lie to me, Ok?”
“Ok,” I conceded with a gulp. I could see his crazy mood swings were on the move. “I was over-awed by your need to have me. Satisfied?”
“I’m not buying it. It was being slapped around that turned you on.”
“If you say so,” I tried to calm his mood.
“You sleepy? I’m sleepy,” he then asked.
“A bit, why?”
“Then go to sleep. I’ll wake you in a bit.”
With that, he turned on his side, made me turn on my side, and spooned me.
We fell asleep.
…………………….
I woke up sometime later with Malik nibbling at my ear. I then became aware of his rock hard erection pressing at my thigh.
I turned to face him.
He leaned in and gave me a long, passionate kiss. I hadn’t been kissed like that for quite a while. I melted, closed my eyes, and kissed him back.
He eased me onto my back, placed his legs between mine, eased them even wider, and I felt his hardness probing around for my entrance. He slid in.
He spent the next half an hour bonking my brains out, with the girth of his hard cock working my pussy lips like I’d only experienced once before in my life …… last night ……
It was heaven ….. I came twice.
With his last few strokes he grunted and held his cock deep inside me.
I felt his hot seed squirt in and fill me up.
He rolled off and lay on his back beside me. His fast breathing was like a see-saw in his nose.
“I’m gonna go shower, Ok?” I stated.
“Ok,” he acknowledged, and turned his back.
He was still laying with his back turned while I dried myself and got dressed.
I sat on the edge of the bed and he turned to face me.
“I’m going to jail tomorrow,” he stated flatly.
“I know.”
“So I need you to do something for me.”
“Ok, I’ll try. What?”
“That cash in the drawer. I want you to take almost all of it and keep it safe until I get out.”
“Are you crazy? I can’t do that.”
“Yes, you can, Debbie,” he said, saying my name out loud for the first time and giving me goose-bumps.
“But haven’t you got friends? I mean, surely …… “
“They’re all criminals, Debbie. What you think they gonna do?”
“But, I mean, the responsibility. It’s asking a lot. I hardly know you.”
“I’m running out of time and options, babe. I need you to do this.”
His open sign of weakness made me blush.
“But how will I know when …..?”
“I’ll send you a text when I know my release date. Use some of the cash to set me up with a place for when I get out. Don’t you see? I need you.”
I was so astonished at this blind leap of faith being thrust upon me, for a few seconds I couldn’t speak.
“But what if …..?” I started.
“Take the cash. Keep it safe. Wait for my call. Hand it back. How hard is that? You can even use a bit for yourself if you want. I’ve no idea exact how much is in there …. I’m not gonna miss a couple o’ grand.”
I was almost it tears. This was never supposed to happen. I’d come to Angie’s for a relaxing break, only to find myself being hustled into a set-up where I was violently raped, which made me cum. Then audaciously pimped out to a couple of random black guys, who made me cum. Then just a few hours later, willingly allow the biggest cock I’d ever seen fuck me again, which again made me cum, two more times ……..
I already felt like the biggest slut and cheat ever, and now this.
It was starting to get way, way too much.
“Five grand. You can keep five grand. Come on, it’s the easiest money you’ll ever make.”
“You serious? Five grand?”
“Sure, why not? But arrange a place for me to stay for when I get out. Deal?”
I seem to have been making a lot of deals just lately, and not all had worked out as I’d expected. But five grand. That’s more than Patrick brings home in two months. I had a sudden rush of blood to my brain.
“Ten grand, and a fake name on your lease. My final offer. Deal?” I put forward. Negotiating never had been my forte.
There was a long, heavy pause.
“Ok, deal, you fucking bitch. But you’d better stick to your word.”
“I will, you’ll see …. In six months,” as I leaned over and kissed his forehead.
“I could easy fall in love with you, you know that?” he stated flatly, which made me blush. He then turned his back and curled up still naked on the bed.
I stuffed all the wads of cash into my purse, leaving behind what I guessed was about four grand. Maybe he had outstanding bills. He never said.
………………………………
Angie was relieved to see me return it one piece, and thankfully never pressed me for any details.
I’d assured her my dealings were all sorted, and if everything went to plan, she’d never see or hear from him again.
,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,
Three days later, on Sunday, I caught a taxi for the final leg home from the local rail-station. I’d been away for six nights, and hadn’t contacted Patrick since I’d left home. My note had said I needed time out, and to pick a house whilst I was away.
It kinda tugged at my heart-strings leaving my best friend Angie, but much more so knowing Malik was now in jail.
I felt empty knowing I wouIdn’t be seeing him for six months.
Patrick hadn’t known when I’d be returning, and burst into tears when I walked in through the front door.
Usually I would’ve considered that as loving and sentimental, but having experienced the attentions of dominant men over the last few days, to be honest, I found it quite pathetic. Patrick didn’t know it, but it was a pivotal moment in our relationship.
As I’d expected, Patrick started off with a barrage of questions, but to be honest, I wasn’t in the mood. All I gave him was I’d spent some quality, catch-up time with Angie, and all he should be concerned about was, had he found a house for us to buy whilst I’d been gone?
He claimed he had, and the very next morning we did a slow ‘drive-by’ of a house which had a large ‘sold’ sticker posted across its ‘for sale’ sign.
There were still padlocks on the front gates.
For the first few nights Patrick tried his best to be amorous, but I easily fobbed him off with ‘women’s issues’. After that, he gave up even trying.
Maybe that was the best for both of us.
Some of my covert cash had been spent on two items ......
........ a cute, little, pink, vibrating clit-wand .......
....... and because I knew Malik might start pimping me out .......
....... a huge, black dildo to start training my ass ......
,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,
To be fair, the actual house he’d ***********ed wasn’t as bad as I’d expected, but maybe it was cheap because it was on the crappy side of town.
But still, I trusted Mom’s wise words about moving onwards and upwards within five years. All I had to do was bide my time.
I’d let Patrick deal with the loan and legal contracts. He was a mundane pen-pusher after all. And why bark yourself when you have your own lapdog?
Oh, Malik, I miss you so much.
……………………………
My Mom came over to visit shortly after we’d moved in and gave her tick of approval.
There was an old lady who rented the house on one side, and a young married couple renting the other.
Mom introduced herself to old Mrs. Hodgerson, and they seemed to have a lot in common.
After that, we kind of adopted Mrs. H. She was a harmless and friendly, old lady.
The young couple with two young kids on the other side were arrogant pricks, but I think it was because of the limbo they were trapped in ….. Resenting paying rent ‘till they could afford their own home …… millions of other people have been there.
……………………….
After a couple of months in our new place, Patrick asked if I was going to come off the pill.
“Isn’t that why we bought a house in the first place, so you felt secure enough for us to start a family?” he’d asked, one lazy evening whilst we were watching TV.
He had me there. I couldn’t talk my way out of that one, so I turned the tables on his premise and I lied.
“I’m already off the pill. Weeks ago, if you really must know. I’m really looking forward to having our first baby, but lately you haven’t been showing much interest, so I just assumed …….. ”
“Oh,” was his shocked response. I loved him, I truly did, but I was losing respect for him with almost every passing day. If I’d said those words to a real man, he would’ve taken me right there and right then on our lounge-room carpet.
………………………………..
A few weeks later, I was pushing a trolley loaded with books along one of the aisles at the library where I work every weekday morning except Friday’s whole day off.
The clock on the wall was edging towards mid-day and I was hoping to return most of my cargo to the shelves before home-time. That’s when my cell pinged a new message.
I looked at the screen and simply burst into tears.
6 weeks. Find a place. M xxxxx
My long, aching wait would soon be over.
My owner was finally coming home.
………………………
I’d hatched my plan weeks ago.
It was devious, underhanded and cruel, but I didn’t care.
My ultimate goal would be worth the unwitting sacrifice of others.
When I arrived home that very afternoon, I called round next door to set my scheme in motion. I’d already been to the local cake shop.
“Hi, Mrs H,” I breezed, when she answered the door. “Have you time for some cookies?”
I held out a tray of what I knew were her favourites. Of course she invited me in.
It took several difficult, intense conversations, but within three days, I’d convinced the old bat that if she moved into an old folk’s home with all of its benefits, my own ‘ailing’ Mom could take over her lease and ‘live next door to her daughter’, and be a win, win, win situation.
The clincher was me offering to pay for her first year’s fees. I’m sure Malik wouldn’t mind paying a lousy eight grand for the resulting rewards. I was relieved when the old bat agreed.
……………………..
My next target was the realtors.
I spun them pretty much the same bull-shit story, but the clincher for them was that all rental payments and associated fees for a new, whole six months lease would be paid up front and in cash.
The day I went down to sign the papers, I had a little surprise up my sleeve for the snooty secretary bitch in their plush office. I was going to prove even integrity could be bought, if you were able to flash enough cash.
……………………………
“McFerryface,” I answered her question. “I want the name on the lease to be McFerryface.”
“Oh, come on, that’s obviously a …….” she started.
“May I remind you the agency has already accepted all the payments and fees for the entire six months lease in cash. I have here with me another two grand which ain’t on your books, and which says the name on the lease is gonna be McFerryface ….. and I don’t give two fucks who gets it.”
With that, I waved a fat bunch of fifties under her nose, then added, “Entirely up to you.”
I couldn’t help a wry smirk when her hand reached over and took possession of my gift and tucked it away in her top drawer.
“And what first name initial will that be?” she asked, as she started writing McFerryface above one of the dotted lines at the bottom of the form …..
“Enn,” I said calmly as I watched her write McFerryface. “Enn, as in ‘none of your business’.
,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,
Over the next five weeks. Malik sent me three more brief texts.
Three days before his release I heard his voice for the first time in months.
I started rubbing my sex as he was speaking, and when I told him what I was doing, he barked, “Stop right now, bitch, make yourself wait.”
I told Patrick I’d be going on a whole-day field trip to a seminar at the main regional Civic Library, which he already knew was in Cramview County, over a hundred miles away.
I told him it would be a pretty big deal, and my phone would be switched off all day.
“Don’t worry if it gets late and I’m still not home, ‘cos the coach is dropping us off outside our local library, and paying for us all to get a taxi home from there. They said last year’s trip didn’t get back ‘till two a.m., so don’t wait up, go to bed and go to sleep. And take care not to disturb me the next morning as you leave for your office. I’m sure to be pretty much bushed, and in need an extra-long sleep in.”
‘’’’’’’’’’’’’’’’’’’’’’’’’’’
‘Pretty much bushed,’ ……. Ha ……
I’m hoping I’ll have been be thoroughly ravaged, used up, burnt out and wasted.
It’s certainly what I’ve been fantasizing about ….. being completely trashed and reduce to a complete wreck.
,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,
Malik was transferred to the Pearlmear County Police Precinct for his last night of incarceration. There he’d signed documents before his release, where he swore on oath he’d be a good boy.
I picked him up in an Avis rental, and forty minutes later we were naked in a motel bedroom, where he spent an hour and a half pounding me into the mattress …. and into a place I now call Heaven ….
Oh Malik, I’d missed you so much.
We ordered a take-out and a bottle of champagne and when the bottle was almost empty I showed him the “toys” I’d brought along with me.
It proved to be quite a long and exhausting afternoon and evening.
,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,
Malik really did leave me burnt out and battered and bruised, so when I staggered up the stairs and crawled into bed next to Patrick at 3am, I was relieved to see he was fast asleep and snoring.
………..............
When I finally opened my bleary eyes and glanced at the clock, it told me it was 11.30am.
“Hi, sleepy head,” chirped Patrick, his presence catching me completely off guard.
“What are you doing home?” I croaked through my raspy, dry throat. I certainly hadn’t expected him to be there.
“I was worried about you so I rang in sick. You looked like you might need some TLC.”
“Why, what you talking about?” as I suddenly became aware of the soreness on my side of my face.
“Your face. What the hell happened? It looks like you got hit by a truck.”
“Oh yeah, that,” I conceded, as my hand gently touched the bruised and aching burn.
“What happened?” Patrick pressed. “And look at your wrist. How the hell did you manage to get that?”
I suddenly realized my other wrist, which was still under the covers, would be exactly the same. My brain raced to come up with a plausible explanation.
“Oh yeah, erm, I wasn’t going to tell you ‘cos I thought you might get mad or freak out.”
“Don’t be silly, Debs. I stayed home ‘cos I was really concerned about you, not to bawl you out ….. so what happened? You look like you’ve been in a war zone.”
“Well, it was our lunchtime break at the book-fest, yeah? We’d been debating who were the best authors …. men or women …. so to settle the dispute, some idiot came up with the idea of a tug-of-war … you know … two teams pulling on a rope.”
“Yeah, I know what a tug-of-war is,” stated Patrick, “go on.”
“Well, there were men on one side and women on the other, but because there were more women, we thought it would be an even match. But all us women were really pumped, and we desperately wanted to win. Because I was one of the smallest, I was at the front of the line, and that’s where I made my first mistake …… I looped the rope around both my wrists so I wouldn’t lose my grip.”
“Oh, Debs, that's one of the worst things you could’ve done.”
“You want to hear the story, or what?”
“Yeah, sorry, go on.”
“Well as it turned out, the men were much stronger than us women, and they also kinda cheated. They must have plotted between them, because when someone shouted ‘go’ they gave the rope an almighty sharp tug. I screamed in pain from the strain on my wrists, and some of the women let go of the rope. But the men carried on pulling for a few seconds longer, and I fell over and was dragged along the hard gravel of the parking lot a short ways, and that’s how I got the bruises and marks on my face.”
“Oh, my poor baby,” whined Patrick. “That must’ve been really awful. I didn’t think it had happened like that.”
“Why, what did you think had happened? That my arms had been tied outstretched to render me helpless, then thoroughly bitch-slapped for not bringing all the cash?”
“What?” winced Patrick in startled confusion. “What the hell are you talking about?”
“Sorry, never mind,” I swiftly deflected. “That’s just a storyline from one of the new books we’d been reviewing, about a housewife who got mixed up with a bad crowd ...... So, are you gonna bring me a coffee or what?”
………………………..
I truly didn’t expect Patrick to be at home that day, but as it turned out, it actually worked out in my favor.
That afternoon, as Patrick was standing on the front veranda, Malik was pacing up and down at the bottom of next door’s driveway, where old Mrs. H. used to live.
The house was rented out partially furnished, but Malik had lots of gear in storage, and the delivery truck was due any moment.
It was whilst Malik was pacing up and down that he spotted Patrick watching on, and called him over to engage him in conversation.
And it was during this conversation that Malik started applying the heat onto Patrick. He said he remembered my husband from those college years, and how spineless he’d been, even back then. How he’d meekly succumbed to Malik’s audacious and carnal advances, and how night after night Patrick had knocked on Malik’s dorm-room door, knowing that once inside he’d end up open-mouthed and naked as he'd knelt at Malik’s feet.
,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,
That initial, intense conversation on next-door’s drive-way would mark the start of Patrick’s re-orientation. Over the next several evenings, Malik then imposed his will onto Patrick, pushing him closer and closer to the edge.
With Malik’s cold, calculated actions and my fully briefed back-up, poor Patrick didn’t stand a chance. We inexorably swung Patrick round to our way of thinking, and he eventually accepted Malik’s terms and conditions.
Henceforth, Patrick would be my cuckold.
An obedient and sissified, crossdressing cuckold.
An ass-fuck, white bitch-boi for Malik’s black friends.
A house-work slave and pegging bitch for me
And the fulfilment of a lifelong wish of my Mom ......
..... that her first grandchild would be a black baby.
And there was nothing Patrick could do to stop it ....