Chapter 7
Sherrie bit at her fist. All three at once! But she had never been with a man!
He was asking her to use her mouth on him and her hands on Carter and Jarvis. Dear God! She couldn't!
"Suck it, white bitch . . . suck it like Marilyn Chambers sucked that black dick---" hissed Shaker.
"No! Nooo!"
Whack! A black hand caught Sherrie alongside her cheekbone. She tumbled nakedly to the side, but black demanding hands righted her immediately and, wrapping steely fingers in her shimmering hair, he pulled her head back.
A rubbery prodding at her lips felt hot and smelled musky and definitely male. Sherrie opened her eyes to see the black, awesome girth of cock flesh drubbing against her fevered lips. Shaker grabbed her blonde hair by the roots and jerked her head upward to stare pointedly into her tearful blue eyes.
"I wan' you to look at me the way she looked at her black man . . . you stare into m' black face," he spat, ". . . cause I wanna see that pretty white face when I make you swallow m' black cum!"
Sherrie's stomach turned topsy turvy from his sadistic contempt. No brown belt in karate could save her from this demented creature's unpented lust. Never had felt submissive to a man . . . not even hot tempered Bill Potters. Now, she felt weak, submissive and without the will to choose. He was her primitive god . . . this black fertility symbol. He would decide if she lived-or how she died.
Numbed by the realization, she parted her lips and slowly closed around the black knob of his lust-bloated penis. It felt surprisingly soft on her lips, though the piquant taste was foreign to her virginal taste buds. Her mouth watered from the musky taste of him, her nostrils stung from his manhood.
"I said to take me . . . open wider!"
The hiss of Jarvis' and Carter's sucked in breaths sounded in the room as they watched the white captive tenderly part her lips and claw her white hands over his stony black thighs to support the painful angle of her head. She had been kneeling on the bed, but now she rose to her haunches.
"Suck! Suck!" he commanded, the scar on his face staring ominously down at Sherrie.
Blinking back hot tears, Sherrie closed her eyes and another three inches of Shaker's blood heavy penis slid into her throat. Dear God, I have a black man s penis in my mouth, she thought dazedly. But self analysis and reportage had no role in survival, and realizing that, she blotted out the fear of fate and concentrated on the warm, velvety sensations cuddling her supple, naked body. Her cheeks hallowed like a baby sucking its thumb, creating a warm sucking pressure on Shaker's penis.
"You be too easy, but you be catchin' on," guffawed Shaker, showing neither pleasure nor appreciation. "You don' wanna be forgittin' ma' buddies now. Take a prick in each hand, baby."
Sherrie squeezed back a tear and blindly reached out to obey his order.
She experienced a pinching pressure under her chin. Immediately her eyes popped open.
"I done say keep them eyes open . . . cause I wanna see yo' face when I comes in yo' mouth.. . . "
The sadistic set to his jaw muscles meant business. Misty eyes riveted on his commanding black ones, her elegant hands stretched out to right and left and felt the warm, moist flesh pulse with urgency. Her fingertips found the rubbery webbing of their twin penises and she heard one of them groan as her grip tightened around both of the steely hard cocks.
"Pump, milk, baby . . . pump those pricks like they be tits . . . . " sneered Shaker.
Reluctantly, Sherrie's grip tightened around the hardening tubes; fearfully, she milked her fists in unison as she nibbled on the fiery cudgel of Shaker's salty tasting cock. Her throat still ached from the earlier beating and she found it difficult to breathe freely with his foot-long cock forced half way down her gullet. The perky tip of her arrogant nose brushed and scraped against his hairy groin, creating two hot funnels of steaming breath that shot from her nostrils to waft through the pubic locks and warn his bloated testicles crushed against her chin.
Shaker showed his first sign of approval. He grunted, a deep rumble emanating from the depth of his cruel heart, at the feel of her sweet warm mouth on his cock. She nibbled tenderly, tasted, teased in the most innocent gestures. No vacuum cleaner mouth like Daisy, this one! Only once had he tasted the pleasure of a white woman's body, and then at the point of a gun. He'd knocked her unconscious, spoiling the sport of rape.
Now Shaker's mind was firing with wild and steaming lust shadowed by a sadistic need for revenge. Animalishly, he placed both of his paw-like hands on either side of her tiny white face and scraped her face over his meaty cock and leathery balls, scraping her nose back and forth over his crotch until she fought for breath.
The captive news reporter's eyes watered, rolled hack in her head and convulsed from the violent action. Each inhalation clogged her nose with matted pubic curls. He was so demanding, so rough, so masterful . . . so unlike the pathetic IBM salesman!
Had the curious minded woman been able to control her thoughts, she might have exploded from the fierceness of this horrible fantasy come true. The empty longing for a man able to command her sensuality without destroying her femininity and desire . . . the long weeks of relentless working with no pleasure to sluice the weeks of tedium . . . all that would have culminated into one blinding moment of ecstasy, except for one factor. She feared she would die in the end. Now the drug had obliterated that fear, and she experienced a warm, temporal glow of sensuality that knew neither future nor past. He was her fulfillment . . . there would be none alone.
Her wet tongue worked over the fleshy tautness of Shaker's cock-tip! Pearly front teeth stabbed arousingly against his hard staff and he leaned forward, bending his knees so that she could stretch her neck until her mouth took all of his meaty cudgel down to the scraping base. Sherrie sensed her forehead rest against his hard-muscled belly; felt the muscles strain and ripple beneath the hideous oral assault.
The stoic sex god showed no outward emotion, though his forehead and chest sheened with perspiration that dribbled saltily onto Sherrie's naked white flesh to mingle with the moisture beading her satiny skin. The perfume of sex and rape stung the air.
Shaker kept his eyes riveted on the white captive slave working at his groin and his buddies' cocks with soft, gentle hands. The low rattle of their shallow breath told him both were sizzling between their legs, their sperm bloated balls swelling to the point of explosion. Contemptuously, Shaker mesmerized his captive with his black eyes, exerting a power over her body and soul. He had enslaved a white woman.
Sherrie's fist gripped her captors' penises, their thrusts becoming violent and erratic. To maintain her balance she held tightly to the penises gushing with blood, hardening, warming her palm and dampening it with oozing ejaculatory juices.
Would they be content with her hands . . . or would they command more of her virginal body?
"I don't care if you've been working six months straight," yelled Potters at the mini-camera man who'd unfortunately stalled about the newsroom and now caught the news directors' attention. "This is teLevision . . . if you can't take the pressure . . . get out!"
George straightened; his jaw fell. Nobody refused Bill Potters. Shifting his weight, he mentally calculated time and a half at union wages.
Seeing his victim had calmed to submission, Potters continued in a more rational, if not human, tone.
"Your assignment's to go down to Eddie Street to the Peep Show Palace.. . . "
George's blonde lashes blinked. "Hey, wait a minute . . . if you're talking about the Shaker Jones shake down, find another victim.. . . " He backed off and grabbed for his jacket tossed over the assignment desk. "I want no part of it."
"You want your job, smart ass?" Abruptly, Potters calmed of necessity; the general manager had poked his head into the newsroom and that usually meant an inquisition into the developments of reportage. "We have a reporter down there . . . somewhere . . . " Here he drew in a sharp breath, his foul conscience betraying power. "Sherrie Williams. She hasn't reported in today."
"Sherrie! In the Tenderloin?" George shifted his lanky weight despairingly, his voice whining for want of explanations. "Why the hell didn't you send a man to do a man's job.. . . " Bad enough the damned teLevision stations bled you dry, they gotta try to kill ya, too . . . for a fuckin' story!
Grabbing his coat, he stomped past the general manager who regarded him with a curious stare, headed for the equipment room to grab equipment and headed for the garage. No guard was available to issue a news van, so he hopped in the beaten up station wagon that sufficed for lesser assignments such as this.. . .
Lesser assignments . . . huh! The car rammed into gear and screeched out of the underground parking lot.
George's cheeks were aflame with contempt. Sending a delicate flower like Sherrie Williams to investigate a convicted heroin dealer . . . Christ! Did Bill Potters think he was running a police force? He pounded the wheel and ran a red light. Damn him and his tits and ass news. Anything for a story!
The station wagon nosed inconspicuously toward the disease ridden streets of the Tenderloin. At a stop sign, he uncrumpled a piece of memo paper bearing the address of the Peep Show Palace. In a sloppy parking job, he left the car in a yellow zone and locking the vehicle, he pulled up the collar of his leather jacket and went to work.
Hands thrust deep into his Levi pockets, Addida shoes slapping cement, he charged the crosswalk and stopped at the street light. A woman dark as the night, wearing a red satin dress that clung to every crease and curve of her slinky ebony body, caught him by the jacket sleeve.
"Where ya headed, honey?"
Daisy, riding high on the sky train of euphoria, felt honed for revenge. Fuck Shaker, Carter and Jarvis.. . she'd managed to score her own junk. Anyway, they had their white bitch to play with. If they didn't need her, she'd find someone who did. A nice white boy.. . Shucks, wouldn't that make Shaker shit in his boots to see ol' Daisy roll in with a pretty white boy?
"How ya doin,' honey?" she repeated, thrusting out a hip and patting the wooly Afro haloing her head. Eyelashes fluttered like butterfly wings.
The abruptness of blatant sex freely offered made George balk. He scratched his head . . . maybe it wasn't so freely offered. "Sorry, I don't pay for it."
"Pay? You imagine white boys . . . who talkin' about paying for it?" Daisy's upper lip curled in disdain. "What you take me for . . . a whore?"
Above the rancid sourness of the fog-dampened sidewalk where dogs excreted and winos vomite, George's nostrils stung with the smell of sex. He wanted no part of her. A jerk freed him from her grasp, but at the price of a tiny rip in his leather jacket.
"Wait a minute, you honky white bas'ard! You's talking to a business woman . . . I ain' no whore!"
Might as well save yourself some shoe leather, fellow. Maybe she could direct him. "Around here?" he queried.
Daisy nodded, a smile creasing her panther-eyed face. "Jes' down the street.. . I owns the Peep Show palace, if ya's up for a little peep, darlin'. "
George gulped; he pressed on.
"Hey, you come back here! Ah, shit.. . I almost had me a white boy," she snapped her fingers and disgruntled, her high heeled shoes clacked on the night-dampened cement as she headed back down the street to her apartment.
Her mental state hovered somewhere between relief and expectation. Relief that the boys hadn't found a boy for the night's filming. In truth, she was tired of forcing the poor little boys into ramming their noses up her pussy and nibbling at her tits. She couldn't stomach the action much longer. If the kid got it up, she couldn't feel his cock inside her anyway, and oral sex just wasn't the same with an eight year old with no front teeth.
"Ah, shit. . . " If only she could divorce herself from the needle . . . then she could rent herself a little place out of the Tenderloin and maybe run a lingerie store. Shrugging her shoulders at idle hopes and pipe dreams, she strutted on down the street.
The storefront was dark, save for a naked bulb hanging above the cash register. The store, from a passerby's objective stand, wore a dusty coat of corruption. Daisy's dark hand clutched the door knob and turned.
"Ah, shit. . . " she mumbled, finding the door unlocked. Shaker would have my skull. Abruptly, fearful expectation gave way to jaw clenching anger. Somebody in the back room was having one hell of a good time. Their precious white honky bitch.. . thinks she's so fuckin' hot.
Along came anger bubbled hurt and rejection. Daisy's always (food for a fast fuck . . . good ol' Daisy . . . ! ! ! ! . Sulking, she pulled aside the faded opera curtain and glared unnoticed at the white captive's naked body, contortedly propped up against Shaker's hulking black body. Her head was forced back in such an angle that swirls of blonde hair tickled the illuminated half moons of her buttocks. Gurgling, squelching noises mingled with deep throated moans and groans stung Daisy's ears.
Slowly the curtain released from her fist. Down on hands and knees, keeping a low profile, she crept toward the nightstand and soundlessly pulled open the bottom drawer. Long black fingers sought out the hard plastic tube. With a revengeful grin on her face, drugged black eyes peered over the edge of the bed. Cat-like, she kneed her way unnoticed onto the bed.
A congested heat began to gather in the pit of Daisy's belly. Black eyes fixed on the white female buttocks staring her in the face, she fingered the battery operated vibrator. With smug revenge, she licked her fleshy lips, delighting in the taste of dried cum. Hand over hand, she positioned herself on her stomach behind Sherrie's goose bumped buttocks.
Carter eyed her first. "Hey, where'd you come from, Daisy?" Sensing her intention, he grinned lopsidedly and blinked his eyes in rapturous delight from the delicious pressure of Sherrie's working fist.
One swift move of the black hand and. . .
"Ann . . . mmmfff.. . " Sherrie struggled to swing around and investigate the sudden attack upon her buttocks, but Shaker's steely hands held her tight. She did not fight the pressure of female thumbs spreading the deep valley of her buttocks' nude cleavage. A strange gush of chill air flowed coldly over the quivering hole of her anus as Daisy's pooched lips blew into the crevice tormentingly.
Stretched out cat-like on her belly, glassy eyed and shivering with lust, Daisy positioned the plastic vibrator between the tight young swells of her white captive's ass and flicked on the switch.
"AHHHHHH!" Sherrie stiffened! The vibrator tip tickled at the door of her rectum, feeling as if someone had turned on an electrical switch. Shuddering, goose bumped, her teeth tickled and her insides felt ready to explode! Deftly Daisy moved the vibrator up and down along the captive's sensitive anal sphincter muscle.
"We's all pink on the inside," muttered Daisy, licking her lips and staring curiously at the white buttocks a tongue's reach away. She kneaded the round, rich swell of Sherrie's left buttocks cheek, squeezing it cruelly between her black fingers like so much bread dough. She do got a nice ass, though.. .
The incredible friction created from the surrogate penis scraping and drubbing hotly at the unexplored door of her anus, twirling like a plastic tongue trying to squirm its way into the nether depths of her bowels, began to chafe.
"Come on, honey buns . . . move tha' ass," jibed Daisy, ". . .or I gonna shove it right up that pretty rosebud asshole!" Her voice was thick with lust.
Do what? Sherrie shuddered. She reacted instinctively, trying to eliminate pain and heighten pleasure. The heroin had vaporized thought. Slowly she moved her buttocks in gyrating, insinuating circles, arching her back exaggeratedly. Her creamy breasts bounced to the strained workings of her trembling, shivering nakedness.
Black bodies surrounded her, naked bodies, smelling of perspiration and another woman's cum, their muscles rippling ominously in the dim lamplight. She felt Shaker's giant hands holding her head in a slavish position, while Daisy kneaded her buttocks with squeezing, sadistic force. Trapped by naked flesh! Sherrie Williams, investigative reporter, sophisticated, virginal! She could hear the men's deep throated breathing with each thrusting lunge of her head and buttocks.
Daisy mewled contentedly and, rolling over, tore her dress over her head and flopped nakedly back down into position. Damned clothes always gets in the way. . . . She pressed her puffy nippled breasts against the satiny flesh of Sherrie's back, squashing their blackness against the captive's creamy white skin. She reached her small but deft hands beneath Sherrie's belly and, finger-walking up her belly, felt for the round, ripe melons of Sherrie's breasts.
"Ugfjhhh!" Sherrie shuddered at the feel of another woman's hands closing in on her naked breasts, mashing them together until her hardened nipples rubbed each other into diamond chip hardness, something a man had never done to her. In a drugged corner of her mind, the realization that a woman was touching her shone through. Strange, too, it didn't repulse her.
Daisy rose up onto her knees and with the grip of her cuntal muscles, held the vibrator in place, feeling it vibrate and tickle her cunt while the pointed tip bored into her captive's anus. Now the black woman's hands were free to roam and explore the luscious globes of Sherrie's breasts, to squeeze, torment, taunt.
Shaker, grunting with wicked pleasure, straightened his knees, forcing Sherrie to crane her neck in a torturous angle, her head thrown back so far her long blonde hair tickled Daisy's budding clitoris. His snaking black penis raped her mouth with cruel force. The others could hear her gasping protests, see her big blue eyes blink with pleading tears . . . and Shaker, grinning evilly, continued to force his black cock down her throat.
To keep from choking, Sherrie had to relax her throat muscles. Once or twice she started to gag, but Shaker wouldn't permit that. Small pearls of pre-cum slickened the path to her esophagus, easing the pain, salving the wounds of this brutal oral-rape.
"Holy sheet," gasped Carter. "She do tha' bettern' no Marilyn Chambers ever do . . . lookee!"
Daisy's wicked smugness faded. Her fleshy lips drew up into a pout. How many times had they told her there wasn't anybody who could suck cock like their Daisy? Fearing that to be replaced as queen of fellatio might jeopardize her trade-off arrangement with Shaker, she ran her fingers over the swan-like stretch of Sherrie's throat. Sure enough, she could feel the bulging outline of Shaker's enormous cock stuffed halfway down the captive's belly!
Shaker's cruel black eyes never blinked, never flicked from Sherrie's soft blue orbs. His mesmerizing stare seemed to call her off to exotic places filled with erotic sex gods demanding service of lesser mortals. The curl to his upper lip joined in chorus to say: "You love my black cock stuffed down your white throat.. . . and don't lie!"
Fortunately for Sherrie, cogent thought was a thing of yesterday. Disgusting and self-denigrating as the reality was, she had let these men force her into fellatio. She could have let them kill her with the needle. She had been drugged . . . but every act calls for a reaction, and she had reacted of her own will. Beneath the sophisticated fluff and drugged excuse, their lurked in the angel's soul a devilish wish to be subjugated and domineered by a masterful sensual creature . . . someone potent and rigid.