Chapter 10
One hand nervously raked through a shock of graying hair, as Bill Potters paced his office. Through the glass cage his eyes fixed on a handful of night reporters preparing for the eleven o'clock edition of the news. A cacophany of typewriters sluiced the silence and meaningful puffs of cigarette smoke blued the air. Neither element echoed the tension stiffening his body.
Decisively he threw himself to the assignment desk and hammered a fist on the desk. The night editor bolted and stared bug-eyed up at Bill Potters' reddened orbs.
"I need the report from George." He thrust out a hand and grabbed futilely at air. "Goddamned it, where's Sherrie Williams? Has she called in? We need her story to fill the gap on tonight's news." Again he clawed at the back of his neck and began pacing. "No murders, no violence . . . what the hell kind of newscast is that?"
Studying the furrowed brow above darting, hen-like eyes, the assignment editor straightened and shook his head for emphasis. "No report from either," he retorted flatly.
"WhatV Potter spun around on his heel. "What the fuck's going on around here?" He glared at the beads of sweat on the editor's stoic forehead. "Get another crew to cover the story . . . I want a story, do you hear me, you asshole?"
The news director stomped out of the room and headed for the sanctuary of his office and slammed the door shut. He threw himself into his swivel chair and started interrogating his consciousness.
Should he follow nobler instincts and alert the police to the possibility of foul play regarding one luscious-assed Sherrie Williams with the result of spoon-feeding the police department with the mayor's and press' honors . . . or should he savor the taste of showing the viewing community (ignorant shits they were) that television was a viable vehicle at stopping crime? And all, of course, live on the newscast!
Flicking his wrist, he glared at his digital watch. Fight forty-two and twenty-one seconds.
Across town, another dictator of foul intent stomped aggravatedly from a scene of conflict. No cash, no ounce of heroin.
The hulk of Shaker Jones' six-feet, six-inch frame streaking like black lightening down the sidewalk with the puppy-doggish companion two-stepping to keep pace, might have been humorous. That is, until an unwary drunk holding out a dirty palm for a spare nickel crumpled to the gutter in pain from a sharp elbow catching him in the Adam's apple.
"Fuckin' nigger . . . cocksucker," the wounded wino grumbled, struggling to his knees in time to see Shaker make an abrupt right and disappear into the tawdry storefront.
Cracking his knuckles under the crippling force of his other hand, Shaker kicked open the door to the Peep Show Palace and sent it flying off its hinges. It crashed against the Bondage section of the bookshelf and women in chains and ropes with apples and cocks in their mouths tumbled domino-like from the shelves.
Jarvis, fast on his heels, pleaded, "Keep cool, man . . . you be gettin' the cops 'ttention." He, too, felt frustrated and angry at the sour turn of events. Twenty thousand, street value, had been foiled because of the snooping blonde Carter had dragged off the street.
Now Shaker's mood hovered between murderous assault and frustrated rage as he stomped into the bedroom of the back apartment and eyed the mattress where Sherrie Williams supine white naked body lay. Beside her lay Carter, snuggled up like a black orphan during the Civil War milking on a southern mama's breast. Childlike, gurgling noises bubbled jubilantly from his throat.
One yank of the black opera curtain ripped it from the rod. Shaker balled it up in his fist and, snarling, tossed it to the floor. His upper lip curled in disgust. "What the fuck's goin' on here! You suppose to off the bitch!" Shaker's eyeballs bulged from his head in rage. Adrenalin pumped up his chest as if a bicycle pump were stuck down his esophagus. He grabbed Carter in one steely fist and tossed him off the bed like a rag doll.
Carter futilely tried to defend himself. Rolling over onto his stomach, he grabbed for the knife Daisy kept in the nightstand. Its shimmering, steely length glinted under the lamplight. Crouched on hands and knees, he eyed the superior strength of Shaker's massive body; his eyes traveled from toes to chest and back again.
Before he could spring, a foot caught him in the side of the head, knocking the knife from his hand. The sickening sound of a cracking skull made Jarvis wince.
Shaker's upper lip curled; the scar deepened. "Anybody else gonna fuck wit' Shaker?"
His nostrils flared like a race horse at the end of the line. His eyes fell on Sherrie Williams' pristine body.
In one violent movement, he tore off his pants. "Somebody gonna pay for this shit!"
Sweat dribbled down his hairless forehead, his bald head shimmering with the sweat of intended labor. Sinews pumped adrenalin through his vengeful body, pumping pints of blood to bloat his groin to sadistic proportions. He grabbed the meaty girth of his growing cock and shook it at the comatose victim.
"I gonna kill ya with my cock, white bitch!" he spat, his eyes remaining fixed on Sherrie's fluttering eyelids.
"Huh?" In swooning tranquility, Sherrie opened an eye and caught sight of the black spear lancing between her torturer's hands. The eye oozed milky pre-cum, hanging at the tip. The black hand pumped, and the penis grew longer with each stroke. The sleek movement of the foreskin mesmerized her and Sherrie blinked, letting her blue eyes travel up over the muscle taut belly and nakedly sheened chest. Something caught in her throat: it was a scream.
Throwing himself on the bed on all fours, Shaker positioned himself superiorly above his white slave. Without ceremony and without mercy, he shoved the heavy length of his black, blood-fed cock into the tiny, virginal hole between Sherrie's white thighs.
"Aaahhhhhhnnnngggg!" She could feel the tender hymen tissue rip, could feel the gush of sacrificial blood bathe his raping black penis in witness to the treasured loss.
Deep within his throat, Shaker growled at the warmth bathing his cock. Levering himself up, he gazed down at the blood streaked rivulets trailing down Sherrie's alabaster thighs. "Holy shit.. . we got us a cocksuckin' white virgin!" he growled sadistically. The thought pleased him; it doubled the joy of rape.
Sherrie's chest heaved from a scream that died in her throat; a black, salty hand clamped over her cum-encrusted lips. A mournful whimper was all Jarvis and Carter heard. The pain, the agony was beyond description, despite the numbing heroin. It felt as if a tree trunk had been bulldozed its way up to her belly button. The shock to her system brought tears to her eyes.
Shaker held his cock there, luxuriating in the feel of its throbbing rape. He wanted to turn her snotty white guts into pudding, wanted to kill her with his cock. Below him, Sherrie's body wiggled in red hot pain that refused to cease as, levering himself on the palms of his hands, he bored deeper into her; his black penis slithered deeper into the bloodied hole, trying to reach her throat.
"Ahhh . . . " Sherrie's mouth went dry, her fingernails dug into the palms of her hands. Faint and weak, she could only moan and not resist.
"You keep them blue eyes on me, honey, I wanna see you scream yo'r last when I kill ya with my cockl"
From the hateful, animalish expression, she had no reason to doubt him. Hovering like the black shadow of death, Shaker inched into her. The swollen, blood-filled flesh of her violated cuntal walls offered no resistance to the incredibly hard hunk of male flesh. Tears of fear and bewilderment dampened her eyes. She blinked back the dew and clamped her pearly teeth over the salty rim of her bottom lip. A sob broke from her throat and a hysterical scream tore from her lungs . . . instantly silenced by a whack across her bruised face.
"Shaker says keep them eyes openl"
Sherrie stared up into the cold, cruel eyes of her black master.
Mercilessly, Shaker mauled her belly with his cruel hands, kneading his way up her supple, white body to the ripe, strawberry-tipped mounds of her succulent breasts flesh. A snicker of sadistic joy curled his lip as he mashed her breasts together and rubbed her crinkled nipples together as if they were two pieces of flint. The excruciating friction chafed the tender skin into reddened nubs.
Gulping back a tear, Sherrie's eyes disobediently lowered from the scarred face down to the fleshy mounds. Were those her nipples rubbing against each other in orgasmic joy? A wicked sensation sizzled through her belly to center in the nub of her clitoris.
A dull, aching congestion weighted her lower belly as it pleaded to be lightened of its sweet-scented cum!
With a grunt, Shaker bored the last five inches of his ebony hewn penis into the cringing white belly of Sherrie's virginal cunt!
"Ung! Unggh!! " Breath caught in her lungs. She felt the liquid heat of her cock-filled womb gorge and seep with naked lust from the throbbing heat of his damnably huge cock.
This pleased him-venting his anger, getting revenge. Gazing down at the glistening, bloodied stump of his cock, he watched it disappear into her white belly! This time he ground his kinky black pubic hairs against Sherrie's swollen cuntal lips, milking the final lustful charges from her tight, unused cuntal muscles.
Beyond the shredded tissue of her hymen, Sherrie felt the head of Shaker's blood-fed cock drub at the rubbery tip of her never-before touched cervix. Friction of two naked bodies rubbing and scraping at the most sensitive points of their beings, sent electrical chills sizzling along Sherrie's ragged nerve synapses. He had violated her most private being; he had conquered her, she realized in a gush of terror. Violated, defiled, he would fuck her until she died!
In torturously grinding circles, Shaker started a rhythm of drawing back. His meaty cock freed her cunt with sickening slurping sounds. He watched the pink folds of her pussy cling hotly to the hard black flesh of his penis . . . as her mouth had earlier!
"Ahhh . . . " Sherrie shivered as the black animal used his muscled force to slam back into her with a force that jiggled her breasts and rammed her blonde head against the brass headboard rail.
Suddenly, he pulled back and slammed in with all his power. This time she spilled sideways, her head hanging over the edge of the bed.
"Somebody hoi' the bitch down!" he boomed.
Four black hands pinned the cringing white captive to the bed, holding her as if she were a human battering ram. Hold tight they did-grabbing her arms, her belly, her thighs, mauling her tender flesh and leaving it bruised-while Shaker gored into her belly another two blood swollen inches.
Carter's head ached above the temple, and his throat burned from Shaker's attack. Sympathy for the white captive simmered into racial hatred. Grabbing her breast, he dug his dirty nails into the tender flesh and delighted as lifting his hand, a red mark lingered hurtfully. He'd been a fool not to get rid of her earlier. They'd been a tight foursome-Daisy, Jarvis, Shaker and he-until the white bitch stole the show.
Consciousness gave way to sensation, blurred, fuzzy, crackling within Sherrie's held down body. Only feeling and a holocaust of pain-filled pleasure stormed her body. Her cunt was sore and ravaged . . . but her libido was far from satisfied! She longed to be rid of the empty years of working hard and finding no pleasure in men. Along with that desire lurked the need to be destroyed, hurt, because somewhere at the core of her being, she knew such wickedness was wrong.
Slaved and enslaved stared at each other, daring the other, goading the other on. Instinctively, she wiggled her naked pussy up against his engorged prick, delighting in the electric feel of kinky pubic curls stroking her oily clitoris. She arched her back and ground her soft buttocks into the sex-soaked mattress like a whore trying to satisfy her John!
"Whoopie! Lookit 'er go!" whistled Jarvis.
Tremblingly, Sherrie's thighs slowly snaked up to encircle her tormentor's smooth, black legs. Rhythmically, she rocked her cock-stuffed pelvis over the black meat of his cock; the sound of her labored breathing rose above the confusion taking place outside the window.