Chapter 6
"Good evening. I'm Jack Sommers with the "Two Is There" evening report."
The news director stared at the television screen in his office. Six o'clock brought temporary relief to Bill Potters. At this hour six-days a week, the telephones silenced with heated reports of attempted suicides and traffic jams, the twix computer dulled to an occasional belch from New York headquarters, and the stage was set for the next morning's Nielsen ratings. Whether the public realized it or not, the news sold television, not baby diapers and Japanese make automobiles.
And hot blonde haired, ripe assed reporters like Sherrie Williams. Potters frowned in consternation while the bland faced reporter droned on about boring consumer prices... he hadn't seen Sherrie since lunch. Last visual image he'd had of her was those rosy lips chewing on the pencil and her big blue eyes staring off into space.
Ah, what the hell... Potters shooed a hand dismissingly in the air. She probably spent the day researching that Shaker Jones character... the big ugly black man, he snickered to himself. Again the image of Sherrie's blonde hair wadded in the fist of a black rapist while he tugged at his pants zipper in cold-blooded oral rape, crackled through his brain.
Potters swung around in his swivel chair and raked worried fingers through a shock of graying hair. Common sense determined he was a fool for sending a defenseless woman out on the streets to cover the story of a convicted heroin dealer suspected of heinous crimes. And yet... if she broke the story...
The clock struck six thirty and the tired on-air reporters began drifting down from the studio and into the newsroom. Potters shot from his chair and grabbed the arm of Jack Sommers.
"I'm looking for Sherrie... any idea where I might find her?"
"Hell no..." grumbled the reporter, tearing out of Potters' grasp. "If you see her, tell her she screwed me up on the white shark story. I didn't have a Goddamned word of copy..."
"Uggghhh... you're ch-choking me!" gurgled Sherrie, tearing at the arms gripping her around the neck. Arms, dark, muscular arms holding her captive. The reality was too great for the blonde haired, blue-eyed virgin to bear, and willfully she forced her mind into a numbed state of being. The aborted burst for freedom had consumed every ounce of strength left for her, leaving her body strangely, pleasantly warmed and opiated.
Shaker had her pinned to the mattress, his black, monolith body pressing her nearly naked form against the squeaking bed. He cut out her light, cut out all hope of escape and now he was cutting off her air. He pressed his thick, fleshy lips to hers and jabbed his foul tasting tongue between her pearly teeth. The others snickered as he tormented the white captive. Sherrie kicked her heels into the bed and slapped ineffectually at his broad back. But he had her pinned. Grunts of angered protests from her, gave way to weak whimperings of despair.
Finally, Shaker Lifted his head and grumbled at Carter. "I said somebody wash the blood off her face... I don't like no taste of blood... none 'cept pussy blood..."
The last remark blazed red in Sherrie's mind.
"How's about I use my tongue." Jibed Jarvis.
Dizzily, Daisy raised her head off the pillow where she lay in a rumpled heap. "Somebody fix me a needle... I wan' a needle..." Her voice was shaky, her groping hand trembling.
"We ain't got no more hon," spoke up Carter, "Blondie here got the rest..."
"I said I want more shit... now somebody git me more shit or I gotta go out on the street to get high..." Her voice was thick with need.
"Shuddup and move over, sister... blondie and I's ready to take over the bed..."
Daisy's pleading hand reached out to grasp Shaker's arm for understanding. With a snarl, he tore her hand free.
"Leave me the fuck alone..."
"But... I... I want some shit..."
Whack! One steely backhand sent the ebony bodied woman careening over backwards onto the floor where she lay in a heap. She lay there whimpering, the room silencing except for the pathetic sounds of an addict shivering toward withdrawal. No one in the room saw the black form crawl snake-like through the opera curtain into the closed storefront... or heard the fumbled clank of the cash register drawer open.
They already had their eyes full! Shaker had flipped Sherrie over onto her stomach and was kneading the soft, tantalizing flesh of her alabaster ass cheeks with his strong black hands. His fingers dug into her body, white flesh oozing between them like so much bread dough.
"Holy shit...!" Carter felt his testicles bloat from the sight.
On the bed, low plaintive moans and murmurings could be heard..."Don't touch me... there... please, just leave me alone..." moaned Sherrie as the three black men pounced on her at once, poking and probing at her anal crevice exploringly, as if a white woman might be built differently from a black woman.
"Can't have no ass-fuck without some lube," chuckled Jarvis, reaching down beside the bed and opening a jar of hand lotion. "Daisy uses this shit for sandwich jobs. Want me to git her ready for ya, Shaker?"
Squeezing a palmful of the oily lotion into his hand, he rubbed the cool liquid over the soft mounds of Sherrie's buttocks.
Sherrie shuddered from the cool liquid bathing her body. She felt movement behind her and dimly reasoned in her drugged mind that the fat man had replaced the black monolith who'd nearly broken her back from sitting on her. The breath wheezed out of her lungs then and a bubble of fear escaped her rosy lips.
He was flipping her numbed body over and running his greased hands over her full, unprotected breasts, smearing the oozing liquid over the blood-red tips of her nipples and kneading them between his thumbs and forefingers like marbles. The punishing caresses made Sherrie yelp with pain. His fingers roamed down over the soft white bowl of her belly to snake with a brutal force into the naked crack of her pussy.
"Now it be time for Blondie's bath," jibed Jarvis, his tongue watering from the thought of nibbling at the tender pussy lips nestled behind blonde fleece. His flabby belly bounced as he fell to his knees beside the bed and wedged the white captive's legs open with his black steely hands. "Ah," he sighed and smacked his lips. He stared at the tuft of blonde hair glistening in the lamplight and placed his face so close to her private parts that his warm breath bathed the swollen pink folds of her pussy flesh.
Oh, Lord, she was naked from the waist down: "I must struggle to concentrate and defend myself against these rapists! Why, why did I accept this assignment?' She bit down hard on her pouty lower lip and tasted her own blood.
Instantly her body stiffened. Her back arched from the sizzling sensation down between her thighs. Someone's lips, fleshy, sensuous lips were clamped on the flesh of her pussy. The hot, moist contact sent a startling sensation pulsing through her like liquid air. She writhed spastically from the thick, wet tongue probing across the nerve-filled buds of her cuntal flesh, snaking into the never-touched home of her warm, pink womb.
That warm tongue ventured up to the oiled pink marble of her clitoris, roaming through the hairy forest while his stiffened middle finger slowly began to penetrate the secretive flesh of her virginal vagina!
"Ohhh... no, please..." A plaintive wail bubbled from the captive's lips as the stiff black finger twisted its way up into her belly. Half way up, it met with resistance, but that didn't stop Jarvis.
Dazedly, Sherrie glared down between the rich swells of her creamy, naked breasts to see Jarvis' head bobbing slowly up and down like a cork in water between her widely stretched thighs. Dear Lord, her alabaster thighs were pulled so far apart, the cords of her tendons stood out like telephone cords!
In the blurry haze of despair, one shred of reality stood out above all: she was about to raped, robbed of her virginity and there was nothing she could do to prevent it. One white woman against three demented black men and a mindless black female! It didn't paint a rosy picture.
Now Jarvis' thick lips glistened with Sherrie's cuntal juices seeping femininely from the heart of her womb. His paws fondled and stroked the sensitive flesh of her inner thighs and naked loins. Sherrie blinked open her eyes and a mirage of dark, leering faces grinned victoriously down at her, the amber lamplight adding a shadowed effect that was not quite real. None of this was real... the hands, the tongue slowly creating within her a strange quiver of arousal that had never been awakened before. And it all seemed centered in the nub of her manfully manipulated clitoris!
Was it the drug they had shot into her veins that made her hunger after the touch of male hands? Did virginity, the sacred treasure she had so long guarded, mean that little to her? God, everything was out of control, out of her hands and in the hands of the fat bellied black man whose masterful hands were kneading her body with a demanding touch her libido could not deny!
Jarvis felt Sherrie's tight, smooth stomach quake as he plunged his tongue up her nude pink cunt. To make certain he had her where he wanted her, he thrust the slimy length of his wet tongue up into the velveteen walls of her pussy, so deep he licked her hymen. To merely humiliate her was not enough; he craved to turn her into a goosebumped mass of tingling white female flesh and prove to Shaker and Carter who was the man here!
Sherrie moaned as she stretched the sore length of her arms over her head. A libidinous desire to spread her naked white thighs wider apart made her do just that, opening all of herself to the slobbering black man licking noisily at her wet, pink vagina. Some alien force within her guided her movements; she tensed her abdominal muscles and flinched her buttocks as she opened the columns of her slender ivory thighs wider to him.
For once the news reporter asked no questions (and avoided all lies) of the situation. Helplessly pinned beneath his weight, what choice had Sherrie now but to lie back and let the drug calm her fears. The feel of Jarvis' tongue swabbing her pussy was heavenly, far more wonderful than the sharp pang of fear.
Jarvis crushed his face against the insides of Sherrie's slender white legs, his thick black lips mashed against her virginal pussy lips, both lubricated by her cuntal juices... rubbing back and forth, with tantalizing noisy strokes.
Hands slid under her buttocks to knead the firm, tight mounds while the devilish tongue slithered wetly in and out of her pussy, flicking maddeningly at her clitoris on the outstroke and driving her to insanely ticklish heights of ecstasy. Sherrie struggled to physically deny herself the wicked desire swelling up within the unplundered realms of her feminine libido. It didn't work. Some say the first time is always the best, and so the virginal blonde could hardly be expected to close the gates to ecstasy she had yet to experience. At least that's what her subconscious concluded, as she flailed her head from side to side, mumbled epitaphs gurgling deep in her throat.
A steely hand yanked Jarvis' hulking body off the lithe blonde. "I said clean off her head... leave her cunt to Shaker!"
A set of liquid blue eyes sprung open as the deliciously licking mouth lifted... never to return. Her ears picked up the lust-crazed snickers of black men staring down at her naked, white, goosebumped body. She detected Shaker's voice. Shaker making the demands. Shaker Jones... the cold blooded sadist, the rapist, the murderer! She clenched her jaws tight and read in his snappy black eyes her very thoughts.
The six-foot, six-inch black man stroked his chin cogitatingly, his muscled chest rippling with sweat under the amber light. "On second thought, maybe we all three oughta git her at once! We been foolin' around here too long already. If the snoopin' little white bitch be a decoy for the cops, we ain't got much time to do her and then get rid of her white ass!"
Sherrie drew in her breath and felt her heart might burst with fear. A news reporter isn't much different from a policeman in the eyes of a criminal. Had they found her camera? Blue eyes fiery with terror, raised pleadingly up at the three black men hovering over her like dark dreams of horror. Their eyes raked over every swell and curve of her naked white body, making her flesh crawl as if an army of ants were crawling from the tips of her curled under toes to the red-tipped fingernails. She could feel their raping black hands mauling the nubbing tips of her crinkled nipples, gouging the tender membranes of her virginal vagina with their sinewy fingers, and bruising her unmarried flesh with their blue-veined black penises!
The fear-stricken news reporter lay spread-eagled on the rumpled bed, cringing from the sight of three black skinned torsos, hard muscled and panting, their naked, hairless chests beating with revengeful lust! A whimper broke from her chest, as the recent image of Daisy groveling on the bed between two sadists who, unbeknownst to her, reveled in humiliating her white womanhood. And Daisy had done nothing to stop them... she fed their egos, loving the punishment.
Sherrie's eyes fixed on Shaker's black girth of maledom. When had they stripped naked, she wondered dizzily, blinking at the black snake hanging halfway down his thigh. Before her unbelieving eyes, that black snake raised its massive head toward the ceiling, the mushroom head wagging from side to side, the single eye dripping venom. Blue, thick veins pulsed with wicked lust. A forest of thick, kinky pubic hair forested his loins, like a camouflaging bush to hide the creeping snake. Beneath lay twin bloated, leathery sacs of virile testicles! Sherrie gulped and closed her eyes.
"Too much for you baby?" he glowered. "Ain't nothin' like a dirty black dick to get you white chicks going... and now ain't you lucky, you gonna git all three black dicks at once..."
"Noooo!" The painful cry tore from Sherrie's swollen throat.
Shaker's black eyes snapped with rage. Drawing a deep breath, he bloated out his powerful chest and sneered down at his white captive. "Don't you never let me hear you say no to Shaker... cause you be one dead white bitch...!" His voice was hardly a whisper, but his voice came through loud and clear.
Silence fell over the dingy room. Carter and Jarvis turned to each other, yet neither spoke. Maybe mess around with the white bitch for a while, shoot her full of dope and leave her in a Tenderloin alley. Fate would take care of the rest. Now Shaker wanted to take fate in his own hands. That they'd taken their luck in abducting children, dragging them back to the apartment, shooting them up with heroin and forcing them into masochistic sex was as far as they wanted to trust their luck. Murder? And a cop on top of it all! Jarvis scratched his head and chuckled nervously.
"Take it easy, Shaker... we don't gotta get all uptight..."
"Shut the fuck up!" bellowed the six-foot six-inch sadist.
His accomplices realized all too well the force behind Shaker's foul moods, and this cringing white woman's negative answer to his manhood was putting him in one foul mood.
Shaker's jaw muscles moved ominously; sparks snapped from his eyes. Glaring down at Sherrie stretched nakedly on the bed, he yelled: "Get up... up on your knees... and don't you dare say no to Shaker Jones again...!"
Sherrie struggled up on her knees; tears clouded her wide blue eyes. Rubbery and weak and totally traitorous... that's how her body felt. She longed to spit him in the eye, curl her rosy lip up at his precious manhood, but she had neither the spirit nor the defense to do so. It seemed a mile, the short stretch from one side of the bed to the other. The effort of knee walking across the bed to where Shaker stood in front of her created a strange scraping friction between her slender white thighs, sparking off the unwanted ticklish charges snapping around in her naked loins. She paw-walked across the mattress in front of them, naked, giving them a bird's eye view of her alabaster, half-moon buttocks and the shadowed mounds of her breasts dangling from her slender ribcage.
A white face so innocent it would have made the devil cry, stared up at her black tormentor. Dimpled chin trembling, liquid blue eyes blinking helplessly up into his grim face, she subconsciously swallowed pride in hopes of appealing to his nobler character. But nothing noble was reflected in the ebony hewn, primitive fertility statue standing with thick arms crossed over his chest!
If Shaker showed no outward sign of arousal, his accomplices sure did. The sight of that perfect white body with its creamy hills and valleys shadowed in soft lamplight sent their penises lurching before her horror struck eyes.
"I said get your fuckin' white ass over here!"
Pearly teeth clamped over a rosy lip, Sherrie approached, crawling to him on hands and knees, her eyes riveted to the venomous cum-filled snake wagging from side to side, a tongue's length from her face. His control over his body mesmerized her, the way he could will its direction. Slowly, his hand reached down to grab that black meat and a tight fist pumped and milked it, preparing it for the white girl's body.
Sherrie, whose acquaintance with male genitals was limited to parked car petting sessions, blinked at the size of his male weapon.
"I want you to get me off... I wanna shoot my black cum all over that pretty white face o' yours." snarled Shaker. "An' I want you to be nice to my buddies here, get my drift, sweetheart?"
Three black men closed in on her.
Chapter Seyen
Sherrie bit at her fist. All three at once! But she had never even been with a man!
He was expecting 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 want you to look at me the way she looked at her black man, her black Master! You stare into mah black face," he spat, "...cause I wanna see that pretty white face when I make you swallow down your first load of my 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 she 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 nub of the 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 her hands and knees on the bed, but now she rose to her haunches.
"Suck! Suck you white bitch! 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 hollowed like a baby sucking its mother's nipple, 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 for her efforts. "You don't wanna be forgetting my buddies now, white slut. Take a black prick in each hand, white-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 said to keep them eyes open bitch... cause I wanna see your face when I comes in yo' mouth...!".
The sadistic set to his jaw muscles meant business. Misty blue 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 their steely hard cocks.
"Pump milk, baby... come on you white slut pump those black pricks like they be tits... sneered Shaker.
Reluctantly, Sherrie's grip tightened around the hardening tubes; fearfully she milked them with 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 warm his bloated testicles 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 and tongue 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 raping her properly.
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 mashed her face over his meaty black cock and leathery balls, rubbing her nose back and forth over his crotch, making her inhale the sweaty, musky aroma of his black manhood until she fought for breath.
The captive news reporters eyes watered, rolled back in her head and convulsed from the violent action. Each inhalation clogged her nose with the heady, sweaty, odor of an unwashed groin, his coarse matted pubic curls scraping her delicate skin almost raw. He was so demanding, so rough, so masterful... so unlike that pathetic IBM salesman!
Had the curious misused young woman been able to control her thoughts, she might have exploded from the merciless fierceness of this horrible rape-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 black sex God showed no outward emotion, though his forehead and chest sheened with perspiration. It dribbled saltily, like rain, onto Sherrie's naked white flesh, to mingle with the moisture beading her own creamy, satiny pale skin. The perfume of sex and rape stung the air.
Shaker kept his eyes riveted on the white captive slave working with her mouth in abject subjugation at his groin and his buddies' cocks with her 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 had mesmerized his white captive with his black eyes, exerting a power over her like a snake charmer, buckling her to his will. He knew his cruel stare was filling the white girl with a fear she had never known, her terror making her easy prey to his mastery of her. He had enslaved a white woman, body and soul!
Sherrie's fist gripped her captor's 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 just be content with her hands... or would they, too, like the black master she sucked on with her mouth, want the use of her virginal white 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 director's 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 that!"
"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 deep breath, his foul conscience betraying power. "Sherrie Williams. She hasn't reported back 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 you too... for a fucking 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 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, Addidas sneakers 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 little white bitch to play with. If they didn't need her, she'd find someone who did. A nice white boy... huh, wouldn't that make Shaker shit in his boots to see 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 fancy 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 pissed and vomited, 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 bastard! You's talkin' to a business woman... I ain't no whore!"
Might as well save himself some shoe leather. Maybe she could direct him. "Is the Peep Show Palace 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 down the bight-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 boy's 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 honkey bitch... thinks she's so fuckin' hot.
Along came anger bubbled hurt and rejection. Daisy's always good for a fast fuck... good ol' Daisy... huh! 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 m 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 behind Sherrie's goosebumped 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...
"Ahh... mmmfff..." Sherrie struggled to swing around and investigate the sudden attack upon her buttocks, but Shaker's steely hands held her tight. She could 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 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, goosebumped, 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 that white ass," jibed Daisy, "...or I'm 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 the 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 got in the way... She pressed her puffy nippled breasts against the satiny white 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, fingerwalking up her belly, felt for the round, ripe melons of Sherrie's breasts.
"Ugghhh!" 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 white 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, and 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 blinding 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 she-it," gasped Carter. "She do that better'n no Marilyn Chambers ever do... lookee!"
Daisy's wicked smugness faded. Her fleshy lips drew up into a sneer. 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 black sex Gods demanding service of lesser white female 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 been forced to let these men subject her into performing fellatio on their black penises. She could have let them kill her with the needle. She supposed if she'd struggled more, maybe they would have. She had already been drugged however, and the drug sapped her will to fight them. Still, every act calls for a reaction, and in her drugged state, she had reacted positively to some of it. Beneath the sophisticated fluff and drugged excuses, there lurked in the angel's soul, a devilish wish to be subjugated and domineered by a masterful sensual, beastly creature... someone potent, black and rigid.