Ned handed her the vodka. She looked up at him. He nodded. She drank and made a face. She couldn’t taste any orange juice. Ned chuckled as he stepped forward holding his cock out so that it was an inch from her face. It was still wet with her juices and his cum. “Smell it,” he said, holding it under her nose. She inhaled and immediately felt her nipples stiffen. “Taste it,” he said. She opened her mouth and holding her drink in one hand and the stem of his cock in the other, leaned forward to take the round head of his black cock into her mouth. She could taste herself on him and the salty taste of his cum. She looked up at him as her tongue explored the underside of his cockhead. He stepped back and again held his semi hard cock out to her. “Kiss it,” he said. She parted her lips to kiss the end of his cock and run the tip of her tongue along the slit of his pee hole.
Cory had moved up to sit beside her. He lowered his head and sucked her hard nipple into his mouth. She sipped her drink. Her free hand found his cock. She began to stroke him. Ned stepped between her parted legs and, holding his cock back against his stomach, cupped his balls and thrust them toward her. She lowered her head slightly and began to lick them.
During the next half hour she felt their lips on hers, their tongues in her mouth, their fingers in her pussy, and their teeth on her nipples. She tasted their sweat. She licked Ned’s shaft and held Cory’s rancid ball sack in her mouth swirling her tongue around the wrinkled skin that covered his marble sized testicles. She finished her vodka. The room spun slowly, but she didn’t feel sick.
“You wantin it again?” Ned asked
She smiled at him, “Yes, can’t you tell.”
“Say it. Say what you want.”
“I want to suck your cock while Cory fucks me.”
“You got to make yourself look sexy for us first. You got makeup stuff in your bag?”
Ann nodded and holding onto the back of the couch retrieved her purse. She noticed that her other shoe had come off. Barefoot, she made her way down a narrow hall to the bathroom. The toilet seat was broken. The toilet itself was pitted with rust. Dirty socks and underwear were on the floor. The washbowl was wobbly and stained. The tiny room reeked of stale urine. She looked at her face in the cracked mirror. Her cheeks were flushed, her lips swollen; her mascara had streaked her face. Beads of sweat still dotted her forehead. The room wasn’t spinning, but seemed to turn slowly. She held onto the washbowl, taking deep breaths until she felt able to splash water on her face. She dried with a filthy towel that smelled like the men in the other room. Her hand shook so much she couldn’t brush on the mascara. She was able, with considerable effort, to apply lipstick and gloss
. ‘I’m Ann,
’ she thought.
‘I have a Masters degree. I am young and considered attractive. I have a husband and live in a nice house. I own a BMW. I do charity work of the Catholic Church. Until recently the only man who has even seen me naked has been my husband. Until recently I’d never been with another man. I’ve just washed a black truck driver’s sperm off my face. I can still taste it in my mouth. Another black man’s cum is dripping from my vagina. I am painting my lips before going back into the other room and giving myself to them again. How do such things happen?’
She walked slowly back down the hall holding onto the wall wishing she could run to the door and down the stairs and out into the fresh night air. Instead she stood naked in the doorway of the living room. The room was hazy with smoke, marijuana. Both Cory and Ned were completely naked now. They sat on the couch smoking. On the table next to the couch was another full glass for her. Ned held out a thin joint he’d just rolled.
Ann shook her head.
“Hey, baby, this ain’t no request. We want you to smoke with us. We think you’ll like it.”
One of the rules in the contract said she had to do what the black Masters demanded, but they couldn’t force drugs on her. “I don’t have to,” she said. “It’s a drug.”
Both men laughed. Cory moved over and patted the seat between himself and Ned. When she sat down, he handed her the glass. She sipped and felt the warmth travel to her stomach. Ned tapped her leg. She spread for them. While Ned began to tease her cunt, Cory leaned over to suck her nipple. They played with her for several minutes. Her breathing came faster and her pussy quickly moistened. They could smell her sex. Ned turned her head toward his. She parted her lips to receive his tongue. She groaned and thrust her pussy up against his hand. When the kiss ended, Cory placed the joint against her lips. She nodded and took it. Ned lit it. “Draw the smoke in deep and hold it before letting it out,” he said. She held the joint between her thumb and forefinger and did as he’d instructed. It tasted sweet. She turned to kiss Cory while reaching between his legs to put her hand on his hardening cock. The two men played with her: sucking her nipples, fondling her ass, finger fucking her, kissing her. She stroked them to full erections. She had finished the vodka and smoked the joint. The room went fuzzy. She felt as if she were floating, completely relaxed. The thought occurred that they could do whatever they wanted to her. As if from a distance she heard Ned ask, “Why the fuck are you here, Mrs. Gardner?”
She saw him through an orange blur. “To give you pleasure,” she said. A slight smile crossed her face. “I’m here to pleasure you,” she said and closed her eyes.
In the next two hours they each fucked her twice. Occasionally she would respond, but most of the time she lay naked on the couch with her legs spread. They mounted her and fucked her. Cory tried to make her suck his cock again, but she passed out or was only partly conscious.
Paul had fallen asleep in the car. Long past midnight he woke up when he heard the door to the building open. Two of his former drivers, Ned and Cory, were on each side of his wife supporting her while stumbling toward the car. Except for the suit jacket, she was naked and barefoot. Ned opened the back door of the BMW and together he and Cory lifted her in. They placed her lying down on the back seat. “Hey, Paul, your wife is a damn good fuck,” Ned said.
“Yeah and she gives good head, too,” Cory added. He slammed the door and both men staggered back to the apartment.
Paul turned around to look at her. She was mumbling incoherently. Her eyes were closed, her bare legs spread. Cum spotted her jacket and oozed from her pussy. Her swollen lips looked as if they were coated with it. The strong scent of her sex filled the car. She shifted and moved into a fetal position, her face toward the back seat. Paul noticed the black disk on the anal plug. He cursed himself and started the car.
Chapter Eight
Journal entry
I’ve just put Ann to bed. Those two bastards I’d fired, Cory Jefferson and Ned Warren, had her for over three hours. It’s obvious they got her drunk and probably made her smoke marijuana. When they carried her to the car she had passed out. Her skirt and blouse and shoes were missing. All she had on was the suit jacket. I’m sure each one of them must have fucked her several times. I’m also sure she had to suck them off more than once. Poor Ann. What she is
going through is all my fault but there’s nothing I can do. Even if we make it through the ninety days, nothing will ever be the same for us again. I’d divorce her now if that would help. I’d take all the blame if that would help – but it’s Ann they want. They don’t really give a shit about me. Whether she’s married or divorced doesn’t matter. They have her names on the incriminating papers. They can send her to prison. I’m wondering if prison wouldn’t be better than what she has to endure.
Ann didn’t go to the school in the morning. She slept until noon. She woke with a painful headache. Her breasts and vagina were sore. She remembered the first part of the previous night. She’d sucked their cocks. She couldn’t believe how much cum black men produced and how quickly their cocks hardened after they’d orgasmed. When she thought of their scent and how velvety their cocks felt in her mouth, she began to moisten. She touched her clitoris which was wet and swollen. She closed her eyes and pictured their black cocks entering her. Rubbing her clitoris, she orgasmed almost immediately. They must have continued to fuck her after she’d passed out. She didn’t remember coming home. Paul must have called the school to say she wouldn’t be in and he let her sleep. She wondered if Darnell would be in her last period class.
She thought about Rona’s boyfriend, Danny. Vaguely she recalled the men last night saying something about an injury to the Giant’s running back and that maybe Rona’s boyfriend would play in Sunday’s game. She hoped she’d be able to watch it.
After her shower she tried to insert the largest of the butt plugs, but it hurt so she put the middle sized one back in. She wondered how awful it would feel to have a big black cock up there. She thought the pain would be unbearable.
Paul had made her poached eggs and bacon and toast and poured a big glass of orange juice. They didn’t mention last night. She thanked him for letting her sleep. “I’m looking forward to a lazy day and a night of watching television in bed,” she said. Paul winced. “What?” she asked.
“Watts called a little while ago, while you were in the shower.” She stopped eating, waiting for him to go on. “He says I’m to drive you to his office this evening. He said you’re to wear a shear blouse, a short skirt, and proper fuck me shoes.”
“Is that all he said?” Paul glanced at her then looked down at the floor. “Well, is that all?”
“Ann, I’m so sorry.”
“You keep saying that, but it doesn’t help. What else did Watts say?”
“You’re to...to...service his wife.”
Ann pushed her plate aside, “Service his wife! What the hell does service his wife mean?”
“I...I guess it means make her cum....give her an orgasm.”
“You mean...with my mouth?” Paul nodded. Ann stood up her face red, her eyes flashing angrily, “I won’t do it! I won’t!” she shouted. “It’s bad enough with these...these arrogant filthy black men. No, not with a woman. I won’t do it!” She stormed off to the bedroom and slammed the door.
Later that afternoon her special cell phone rang. It was Watts. “I suppose, Mrs. Gardner, that you’ve fully recovered from last night’s activities?” She didn’t respond. After a short pause, he went on, “You husband explained about tonight?”
“Yes and I can’t do it. I just can’t do that.”
Watts’ voice was steady and calm, “But, Mrs. Gardner, I say you can and I say you will. I remind you of the contract you signed. It states that you will obey your Masters, both the black men and the black women. I don’t think I need to remind you of prison. In prison a woman like you will spend every night servicing women who are bigger, stronger, and meaner than you can imagine. There are also those grandparents out on Long Island to consider.”
She wanted to scream. She wanted to throw the phone though the window. She wanted to kill Watts and Paul as well. “What time,” she said.
“Be at the office at nine.” He clicked off.
At exactly nine o’clock they stepped out of the elevator and into the reception room of Watts’ office. They were surprised to see Rona at her desk. She grinned up at them.
“Well if it ain’t the uppity white bitch and my boy toy, Paulie,” she said. Paul felt his face turn red. He didn’t know whether it was Rona’s looks or the way she humiliated him that made his cock begin to swell. Rona pressed a button and spoke into a small microphone on her desk, “They’s here,” she said. She pressed another button and the door to Watts’ office swung open. She gestured toward it and followed them in. The door closed and clicked behind them.
Watts sat behind his ebony desk. To his right was an elegant wing chair. Sitting in it was a very black, very fat woman close to Ann’s age, maybe a year or two younger. She wore a white shirt blouse and a wide pleated pale green skirt and bright green strappy heels. Her legs were bare, her toenails painted a dark shade of red. Her face was round, her nose flat, her mouth wide, and her lips puffy. She appraised Ann, unsmiling. “So this here’s the new white bitch?” she asked. Watts nodded.
Along the wall next to the bar were seated several men Ann recognized. They were the poker players: John Albertson, Paul’s former accountant, who now ran the trucking company, Nelson Suggs, the chief mechanic, Ike Johnson, a wholesale distributor of women’s clothes and shoes, Trevor Bass, the superintendent of a low rent apartment building in the Bronx, Cliff Bass, Trevor’s brother, a dock worker. Ann glanced at them then quickly looked away. Paul nodded toward them and smiled weakly, but they didn’t acknowledge him. Rona stood behind the bar pouring drinks and then serving them.
Two chairs were in front of Watts’ desk. He gestured toward them, “Sit,” he said.
They sat. Ann tugged at her short skirt which had ridden up above her knees. Fearing to look at Watts or any of the others, she bowed her head. Watts tapped his fingers on the desk, “You know why you’re here?” he asked. Ann said nothing. Watts slammed his open hand down causing everyone in the room to flinch. “Goddamn it, when I ask a question, I want an answer!” he shouted.
“I...I...don’t think I can...do...what...” Ann began.
“Why do I have to keep reminding you of the consequences?” He paused, then went on, “I ask again, but this is the last time. Why are you here?”
“You want me to to...to...pleasure your wife.” She looked up at him, tears forming in the corners of her eyes.
“That’s right. You address her as Mistress Tina.” He stood up pointing to his wife, “Now, get on your knees in front of your Mistress and ask if you can please make love to her cunt.” It was several moments before Ann moved. Slowly she knelt before Watts’ wife. Without looking up she murmured, “Please, Mistress Tina, let me. let me.....make love to...to your cunt.”
The heavy black woman pulled her skirt back up around her hips and spread her legs. Her pussy was matted with black hair, the odor was strong. Ann leaned toward it then turned away. “I can’t!” she cried. “I won’t!”
Watts motioned to Trevor and Cliff Bass who quickly grabbed Ann by her arms and dragged her to the slightly raised platform on the other side of the room. Ike Johnson had lowered the two ropes with leather cuffs at the end of each. They secured Ann’s wrists to these and Johnson pulled the ropes through their pulleys until only Ann’s toes touched the platform.