Chapter 2
Duncan King fixed his tie, sprayed his breath, patted down his glistening, short-cropped blonde hair and walked back and forth in his green carpeted, wood paneled office. His office reflected his masculinity. Everything Duncan King did spoke of tough masculine pursuits.
Every winter and summer he went hunting. Mule deer, elk, bear, fox, coyote and puma heads hung on the walls of his home. One large mule deer head hung on the wall over his desk.
He had wide shoulders, an overflowing chest and belly, which seemed to rest on his belt, and was half-muscle, half-fat. He had short, thick, muscular legs, powerful forearms and biceps. Everything about him spoke of solidity. He had a flat, wide face and thin, brutal lips.
People feared King. He could be brutal or deadly smooth. He was chief supervisor for this assembly line building. There were more buildings like it on the huge lot which held many buildings, huge parking lots and the executive office building.
He'd seen Anita Dumont. He'd noticed her and she had noticed him looking at her. It happened more then once. He was the big boss. At least as far as her section of the automobile business was concerned. She sometimes fantasized that he would come over and pinch her behind and wondered what she would say to him. She could just imagine him, standing there, huge, menacing, his fingers digging lustily into soft tit or ass or cunt. She knew then she would be too frightened of her job to stop him. It was her one recurring nightmare. But she told herself not to be silly. This couldn't happen. Such things were fantasies and did not occur in today's age and world.
When Hampton came and told her that King wanted to see Anita after work she wondered why. Hampton wasn't really interested in her question. His hand was going for a soft tit. She chided herself for not wearing a bra and moved back out of the way. But bras, she told herself, were so damned uncomfortable and chafed, especially on a job like this, when she had to do such strenuous physical labor.
"Why does he want to see me?" she asked again.
"Who know," Hampton said with a shrug. "Forget him. Think of me. Remember, honey, I'm here and willing. So, if the need itches, just scratch it."
"I'll scratch it with you when I'm a hundred and five," she said. The other men on the line burst out laughing. Hampton walked away, laughing too, as if it were a joke. But in his eyes she could see that she had struck home.
Later, in the cafeteria, she told Claude Woolf about it. "Who knows," he said with a shrug. "Maybe Mr. King wants to discuss a new position with you. Just remember, follow the old gypsy custom. Then all will be well with you. When you enter his office do so with your left foot and then leave his office with your right foot. Remember that. It's good luck."
"You really think so, Claude?"
"I know so. We gypsies are seldom wrong. People think it is a silly superstition. But do it and you'll see that no harm comes to you. You must trust me."
"Okay," she said with a shrug. "I'll try it."
They went back to their jobs after that. Anita kept glancing nervously at the big wall clock, which she could see from where she stood, and wondered all the while what Mr. King wanted.
She decided it couldn't be that he'd fire her, for she had been working too hard. Still, one could never tell. Life is full of surprises and ambushes.
On her next coffee break she went to the ladies room; a shoddy brown tile and mortar affair that smelled too strongly of ammonia, cigarette smoke growing stale in corners and faint traces of perfume. She put on lipstick, did her green shimmering eyeshadow in a rush and remembered to spray perfume around her neck, her ears, and even between her breasts. Little did she realize what this would do and the danger she was in.
She returned to her job. As the hours dragged by and the end of the day loomed closer, Anita sweated more, afraid, really afraid of the menace to come. If indeed there was any menace.
And then there came the shrill toot of the air horn. It was time to put her tools away. The assembly line slowed as the workers left and the new shift began to come in. Anita rushed to punch out, then freshen up some more and make sure there were no grease stains on her face or arms. It was time to see the big boss.
And Duncan King Sr was waiting with baited breath!
King fixed his tie, checked in the desk mirror he kept at hand to see if he looked presentable and looked once more at his gold wrist watch. Soon, she would be coming, soon. He hoped that supervisor, Kuvalicik, reminded Hampton to tell Anita Dumont to stop by. King's cock was aching to get into that bitch. He would be sweet to her. Maybe she'd go down on him. Just the thought of those wonderful satin lips around his prong made his cock throb.
He hoped he could depend on Kuvalicik.
King cast a glance at the sex newspaper lying on his desk. He had been gazing through the back sections, looking at the hooker advertisements. He read this kind of paper a lot and went to many of the new massage parlors and prostitutes in town. From all the papers he looked at, those printed in Detroit as well as the New York and L. A. papers, it seemed New York served more kinky treats, but the L.A. girls were prettier, with better bodies.
There was a hooker operation in Detroit, that he was thinking of visiting. Their advertisement was right before his eyes. He had just been reading it, the reading making his cock tingle and his balls seethe with lust.
The faces and bodies of the girls on the advertisement were not, of course, those he would find there. He knew these were just pictures someone had ripped off and then printed. Those who took the pictures were not going to go into court to get the advertiser to stop the ads or pay for the use of the pictures. But it would be nice, King thought, if there were girls like that, which he could hire. There were so many bad numbers in the hooker business.
Still, this bunch seemed good. Their ad called them The Love Specialists. One of the girls pictured was black, sweet, sultry, and very sexy. But not as sexy as the bitch he hoped would be coming through his door short minutes from now.
Their fee was fifteen dollars. The ad said that was their only fee. Like hell it was. He was sure there would be fifteen more once he went in and more for extras. But he liked the extras.
Near the newspaper lay a paperback. It was a sex paperback, the only kind he ever bought. The title was, "Too Wild To Tame." And on the cover was a picture of a sexy, naked black girl.
King loved black girls. Like many men, he was beginning to discover their sexual values. The values that till lately only a few connoisseurs appreciated and that many years ago most southerners and old-time plantation masters had enjoyed.
King stood there, shocked, his mouth open, realizing right off she was from the south. And that in the south whites went with whites and blacks with blacks. That wasn't so up north.
As soon as she said that, her pimp rushed up and pulled her to the side and began explaining how things went in Detroit and other places up north. He sent her back to King, who by that time had picked himself another girl and had gone off with her. King was sure that fool hooker would get her teeth kicked in that night. But Duncan King didn't care. He was getting his and that was all that mattered.
He yawned once and stretching like a lion after a meal of good red meat. The past was the past. The incident that had come to mind was more then ten years old. It wouldn't happen today and was sure the same was true in the south. The impossible of today is the possible ten years later.
There came on a knock on the door. He quickly shoveled some of the things into his desk, fiddled again with his tie, cleared his throat and said, "come in."
She came in and he told her to shut the door. As she did so, it clicked behind her. For a brief moment the sound passed through her consciousness, but she ignored it, not realizing that the door had been fixed so that it would lock the very next time it was opened and shut. The bronze key that would open it lay on his desk.
Anita noticed the bright smile on his face and wondered why. She did not yet see the huge erection in his pants. King could not control himself from licking his lips and dry washing his hands at the sight of the tasty morsel in front of him. But he tried desperately to keep control, pointing at the chair in front of his desk and watched her clothes tighten around her body as she sat down. She did not cross her legs and her meaty pussy pushed out against the fabric of her crotch and stretched it tight. The sharp and always watchful eye of Duncan King did not miss this. He licked his lips and brought his eyes back to her face. Anita Dumont was appetizing, no matter what angle she was looked at from.
She began to notice the wet gleam in his eyes and the smile on his lips. Down deep something warned her that she was in danger. But it was such a small, momentary twinge, that it passed almost without notice, while she was listening to Duncan King and trying to pay attention to what he was saying.
"I've been looking at your record, Miss Dumont. It shows you to be an excellent worker."
Anita was surprised. She hadn't thought herself to be that good a worker. In fact, she thought she was rather deficient in the line and would have to put more effort in to do a better job. But maybe Claude had been right and his gypsy formula for entering with her left foot and leaving with her right had done the trick.
King went on. "I feel a woman like you has more value, and should be doing more valuable work."
Still not realizing what King was getting at, she smiled and said, "well, sir, assembly line work isn't what I really wanted to do.
"And you shouldn't do it, if you don't want to. A pretty woman like you certainly deserves better!"
"Why, thank you, sir." She smiled and warmed up. Mr. King really was such a nice man, even if he did have that funny glint in his eyes. All that beefiness made him look powerful and ruthless. He probably just looked that way and wasn't really like that at all.
"I wanted to be a bookkeeper, sir, but with things being the way they are on the market, I haven't been able to get the work I've been asking for."
"Well, you certainly deserve that and more."
"I'm so glad you recognize my talents, sir."
"I recognize all your talents, dear. Let it never be said that Duncan Albert King never recognized great talent when he saw it."
Anita smiled and dropped her eyes. This was so good that she almost felt bashful. It bothered her a bit that he called her dear. After all, he was not so many years older then her. In his thirties, she was certain.
She looked back up at him. "So you think you can get me a job as a bookkeeper, Mr. King?"
"I can do better," he said. "Why settle for being a bookkeeper when you can use and display your true talents in a better way. Why not be my mistress?"
The gleam in his eyes grew greater, as her mouth fell open and the shock of his word pounded inside her head like giant breakers on a beach. She was almost ready to tell herself that she had been hearing things and that Duncan King had not said what he did say.
He laughed as she sat there speechless and helpless, as if struck by great hammers. "You looked shocked, Miss Dumont, or should I say, Anita. You shouldn't be. I'm sure a woman as beautiful as you are has gotten more then a few proposals. Why should mine surprise you?" He smiled, leaning forward, his face sharp, sweat running down his face, his cock aching to burst out from the confinement of his pants.
"Think about it. I'm a man with money and power. I can do some nice things for you. You don't have to sweat over any assembly line. Be good to me, and I'll be good to you."
"I'm a good girl," she said, standing suddenly. "I don't do such things."
"Well, think of doing them. Think of a lot of things. You're not getting any younger. Think of making a place for yourself in the world. You can go up by going down. Start with me. And as for your being a good girl, I can't believe it. I know how women protest, then when you get them in bed they can't stop sucking on your cock."
"Well, I'm not one of those girls. Not now or ever!"
"Don't be a fool. I'm not asking you to be good, I'm asking you to be great."
"I think I've had enough of this, Mr. King. I don't care who you are or if you fire me, goodbye." She headed for the door, but it wouldn't open. She looked back in desperation, the first signs of fear swept across her face.
He lifted the bronze key and it gleamed in his hand. But not nearly as much as his eyes gleamed. He rose, came around the desk, headed for her, his face a lust crazed of passionate desire, his crotch, she could see, bulging.
Anita cringed. He came at her, pressing himself against her, pressing her back against the door. She sighed and gasped, her mouth falling open; a wet circle of painted flesh edged by sharp, white teeth. He sniffed her perfume, became maddened by it, dropped the key on the floor and pressed his mouth to hers and then began to suck on her lips, his tongue a darting snake into her open, gasping mouth, his hands rushing to her breasts.
She tried to fight him off but her fear paralyzed her. When she was able to try and push him away his hands came up and took her's by the wrists and then began to push her arms down.
She gasped and complained, in loud mewling cries coming from deep within her throat. As she protested his violation of her body. His mouth still pressed to her's, King continued sucking away at her lips as his tongue explored the insides of her mouth and slapped violently and lustfully at her softer, weaker, cringing tongue.
She threw all her reserves into fighting him off in a last ditch attempt to win, but failed. Anita shivered in fear, fighting still harder, but he kept on pushing her arms down just the same.
She was now finding out just how powerful and huge and menacing King was. And there was no one to save her, to hear her cries and come to her aid. Her fear erupted in great heart bashing thumps inside of her body. Her legs turned to rubber. Rather then being able to fight harder, she began to turn weaker and was almost unable to fight the man about to overpower her and then take his liberties with her.
She tried to lift a knee and kick him; all the wonderful advice those women's books and magazines and manuals gave. But he was pressing too tightly against her and she was pressed too tightly against the wall to be able to fight him off.
She wanted to scratch him, but he had her firmly by the wrists. She wanted to spit in his face, but he was kissing her like a madman. She wanted to scream, but the fear, the overpowering violence of the power being brought to bear caused her cries to die in her throat and the loud mewling would hardly be heard a foot away, much less through the door.
Finally, he pulled his mouth from her and moved his face back an inch or two. She could look into his wet, gleaming eyes. Her open mouth tried to make sounds, but she was unable to utter a single sound. Fear was a hand choking off all sound. The only thing that Anita could do was to suck air down into oxygen starved lungs. They were both breathing hard.
She could feel his swollen cock up against her and she could her to the throb of his heart under the thick layer of his powerful chest. Finally, she was able to find her voice. But by then his mouth had come down again, hot, hungry, his tongue a probing spear of living pink flesh. She sobbed deep down, her tits still rubbing up and down against his chest, making him hotter.
He pulled his lips away one last time from her and stood there, face beet red, eyes like those of a pig laughing out at her. Then he pulled her by the wrists as he moved back from the door, taking her into the middle of the room, smiling like a heathen in heat.
She came with him, unable to resist, sobs welling in her throat and her bosoms moving up and down and the flesh quivering as her chest heaved to suck more air into fear maddened lungs.
Then he began to twist her wrists. His face got very hard even though it stayed red. "Kneel, bitch!" The two words flew from the slit his mouth had become. She shivered and shook and finally knelt and then sobbed, "please, sir. Let me go. I never did you any harm. I won't tell anyone!"
"You'll never tell anyone, I'm sure. But not till you've been good to me. I want a blow job."
He bent over to say that. His face came down, close to her's. Big, swollen, pussy-hungry, red. The spittle flew from his wet and drooling lips and hit her face.
Then he stood straight and looked down at her, mighty, powerful like a great edifice, ruthless, hungry, merciless, holding her in a grip of steel, her wrists and forearms partially twisted and the pains radiating up them to her shoulders. She was on her knees, helpless.
"If you're thinking of screaming forget it. No one is in the office block where we're located. I made sure to call you here when everyone had gone home."
She stared up at him, sobbing, knowing this was the awful truth. He had called her to him at a time when no one else would be here and she had unknowingly stepped into the spider's trap.
He began to twist her wrists some more and then worked his hands up along her arm till he was holding her firmly by the fingers, his brute power huge and menacing and merciless.
"I'll break your thumbs and I'll do it wow," he warned her, grasping them, "if you don't do as I say."
"Please, don't."
He began to tug on her thumbs as if he might actually break them. His cock was swollen large and bursting. It was so huge that it was tenting his pants grotesquely and by sheer pressure forcing his zipper down and down.
"Don't, sir, don't."
"Well, do I break them or do you blow," he asked?
She gazed at his ruthless face, listening to the frightened beat of her heart. Finally, sobbing, her fear like few fears she had ever known, she surrendered and tremblingly nodded her head, then she broke into greater sobs. She would blow him. She would suck him silly.
"Good. I knew a smart bitch like you would wise up. A smart bitch like you would suck when persuaded enough." He emphasized the last word, persuaded.
"And I'm sure this isn't the first cock you've sucked. A girl like you must be pretty expert in giving blow jobs. So, remember, do a good job. I've been blown by the best."
She looked up at him, her eyes blurring. "I'm going to let go of you, so you can be real good to me and hold it the way a good cocksucker should. But if you get smart, remember, I can always get hold of you again."
She said nothing and shivered.
He let go and her arms came down. The places where he had held her were numb and pale. She could feel the tingle of blood coming back into them. Her body ached and she still felt his fingers even though he wasn't touching her any longer.
"Take off your sweater," he ordered.
She shook her head up and down. "Yessir." She took the sweater off over her head and tossed it to the side. Her breasts tumbled out. Young, healthy, strong, upthrust, resilient. His hands came down and he began to fondle them.
"Titties," he said with a fond grin and a fiendish chuckle of delight that made his face brighter and his chest heave up and down.
She said nothing as she felt his hands squeeze, fondle, pinch and touch her. Then he let go and told her to pull his zipper down. Her hand came up slowly, tremblingly, almost as if she were about to touch some ancient alter. Then she went faster. He grinned above her, his face some giant and ruthless.
As soon as she pulled his zipper down his cock began to stir in his pants. He gave a wiggle of his hips and it flew out of the slit in his shorts and smacked her face and then swung off to the side; dripping gleaming pre-cum dew from the slit in the apex of the cock head. The foreskin was pulled back some and he pulled it all the way back.
She inhaled, a shiver of bone gripping fear filling her. His cock was huge and thick, imprinted with a network of fine and wide veins and arteries of dark blue and purple.
He pulled his pants down and shorts too as he unworked his belt and then leaned back against the desk behind him, the pants and shorts fell down to his knees.
He had wide, muscular thighs. He had short blonde hairs sparsely growing from the skin of his thighs. Hanging down from his crotch were large balls carried in a wrinkled skin sac beneath his swaying and erect cock, which she now estimated to be over seven inches in length. His balls were lust bloated. And she knew balls that size would contain enough rich cream to flood her mouth. Short, thick blonde hairs grew from the wrinkled skin of the ball sac.
"Well, what are you waiting for, you fine bitch? Take that cock and suck on it till I cum in your mouth. I hope you're not one of those high class bitches that doesn't like to take it in the mouth. Because if you are, you'll have to take it anyway."
"No sir, I let the man cum in my mouth. I learned early on that a man doesn't like to shoot his load into empty air."
"You bet he doesn't. He likes hot, straining lips around his cock when he shoots."
She nodded again. Anita Dumont had come up out of the Detroit ghetto and though smart and ambitious she had to learn the lessons of the street before she could learn the lessons of the schools and colleges.
She had long ago learned to bring satisfaction to stiff cocks. Like many of her ghetto sisters, but not as much as some, she had gained experience in the servicing of fine, hard, eager prong. Her lips were no novice to the surface of a hot, needing cock.
With that, she closed her eyes, taking his cock in her hand, she began to rub him along her soft, tender cheeks. He shivered in glee. "That's so fine, baby. Now, when I cum, you swallow it all to the very last drop: you hear?"
"Yessir." She didn't really like cum swallowing, like some of the girls she knew, but on occasion, when the date was extra special she swallowed and earned herself a high protein, low calorie diet for the day.
"Don't worry, sir," she said, "I'll swallow it all. When I'm done there won't be a drop left and you'll be clean as a whistle." All the while she continued rubbing him against her cheek and looked up. His eyes were shut, shivery breaths were escaping from his open mouth and his head began to jerk from side to side.
She stopped rubbing him and then opened her mouth wide and breathed on it. He jerked in her hand. Her painted soft lips curved in a brief smile. Even though she was being forced to do this she could not help but take satisfaction in the reception she was getting.
Her lips opened wider. She began to swallow him in. Anita took three inches of hard prong and then shut her lips securely around it. Salivating to make the inside of her mouth smooth and slick, she began to suckle on him, softly at first, then harder and still harder, till he was trembling in the knees.
She opened her eyes and looked up at his shut eyes and face going from side to side. He may have been in control before, but clearly, it was Anita who was now in control. Only if she let him out of her mouth would he be in control again.
She suckled a bit harder and began to rotate her head from side to side adding extra sensation and drive him up the wall. She was rewarded when he began to hiss and pump his hips in a swift, sensuous rhythm.
She put her hands out and held him by the hips to keep him steady and prevent him from wiggling too much. She didn't want to lose his cock out of her mouth and thus loose that fine cadence she was maintaining in suckling and rotating her head from side to side.
The sensations she sent racing up his cockhead and stem rushed down to his balls and made them stir uneasily, sending vibrations through the cream that would soon liquify and flow when she had him up to the right passionate pitch and really running a lustful fever.
She changed her tune a bit by stopping the suckling every half minute and then running her tongue along the edge of his cock from the head to where the stem extended outside her mouth before she began to suckle again. The swift, quicksilver licks of her tongue nearly caused him to groan. With the alternating blasts of suckle fire and the sharp lances of quicksilver rushing along his quivering cock, which had now swelled even thicker inside her mouth, he began to respond with more vigor to what she was doing.
His hips began to piston back and forth, driving his cock into and out of her mouth. As she realized that King was fucking her in the mouth, she timed her suckles between strokes and licked at him as he entered and as he left.
She clung to his hips, hoping to slow the rate at which he fucked her face and made her job of blowing that much tougher. She could see he was not one of those excitable men who shot their load right away. This was going to be a long haul blow against one hell of a bull of a man.
His cock was so thick her mouth was almost distended around it and when he went into her she really felt him filling her. He now speeded up his movements. Anita found it harder to swing her head from side to side while sucking, and after awhile didn't want to. She stopped this, while keeping up the rest of her work and let him fuck away into her mouth.
The sweat, from all this tough labor, was running down off her forehead and from behind her ears, down her neck and from under her swaying and jiggling breasts.
She took her hands from his hips, seeing that she could not control him, and began to play with his balls. She squeezed them like spauldines and ran her fingers from ball to ball. At the time she took hold of the hairs on his balls and tugged at them. The tugs sent sharp jolts of fire, which in the state he was in, became lashes of pure pleasure rushing through each quivering ball and helping to raise his pleasure rate a few notches on the lust scale. He began to vigorously pump his hips under the effect of her work, from side to side this time, ceasing, for short moments the in and out fucking of his hips and cock into her mouth.
There was a vast inferno flowing through each cell of his body. He could feel her hot, wet, slurping mouth and soft, cushiony lips in every vein, in every nerve end, in every bone and corner of his body. His scalp crawled, his soul yelled for more, his mind raced like a ticket counter gone wild. The colors inside his eyes became livid. He heard hundreds of small sounds; her lips, his heart and blood. And then he began to see the sounds. They were bright red bumps and long, quivering blue lines and white blasts and sparkles of orange and purple and then slashes of yellow. As quickly as they came they went and were wiped clean from the slate of his mind.
She had changed her pattern once more and now began to suck him as she bobbed her head and mouth back and forth, swallowing his cock, letting it out. Her soft lips slid back and forth on his hot and saliva lubricated skin surface; covering every bump and vein and artery and working him with that intentness that only a woman in deep love or a woman in great fear employs to satisfy her lover.
With great effort he forced his eyes open and looked down at her. He saw those fantastic, pink painted lips slipping back and forth and his cock riding into and out of her mouth, powerful, thick, wet, red. The sight of it made him swell still a bit more, thought Anita, feeling him in her mouth, hardly thought that possible.
She continued to swallow him in and let him out, using each inward stroke to lick the length of his stem and touch the mossy head of his cock and create more butterfly flutters of fire to rush up his cock, then down to his balls and up along his spinal tree into his brain, causing his heat to beat faster and his hands to clench the front of the desk he was holding onto. He held on for dear life and hissed like a man on fire, which in a sense he was.
Giant blasts of grinding sensation rushed along his body each time she licked at him or sucked him back in. He started pistoning his hips forward and at the same time fucked her mouth.
Anita found that as she swallowed him in he was coming forward with his hips and cock. This created a double movement and added friction that caused the fires in his cock to reach red hot proportions, that moved faster into his balls; the two points that seemed to be getting most of the fire coming from his sizzling cockhead.
She felt him stir some more within her and worked a bit faster now; the sweat running from her in waves so that she felt her entire body glisten. The musky man taste of him, the hum of his thrusting cock inside her mouth, made her shiver with the fear of a woman being possessed in the most personal way by a man she had not willingly allowed to love her. But in that shiver came the added fear of knowing that somehow her horror was slowly ebbing and being replaced by an acceptance of this power and this forced seduction.
She took his cock as he jabbed away at her, and her face and mouth came down around him. At the same time she added a suckle every time his cock filled her mouth and a flick of the tongue as he left.
Anita could feel the fire in her legs, the tiredness in her neck from moving and bobbing and swaying and fighting and complying at various moments with his movements and the power of his thick big, brutal and overpowering cock.
As his passion rose and the joy of having this wonderful bitch suck him with such love and technique grew in his heart, his cock began to dance with more power in and out of her.
Anita was jolted, but quickly adjusted. His cock thrust into her with huge power and the strength of a mighty man that rammed the head almost to the back of her throat and choked off all air except that coming through her nose.
She had to open so wide that the edges of her mouth ached. Her cheeks and tongue and the roof of her mouth were already numb from all the cock she had to accept. But, by superhuman efforts, and knowing the consequences of failing, she continued, and reached into her reserves to put still more effort into it.
Anita began to suck with great power that swallowed his cock as far as she could take it, then suckled on the head and stem. She salivated to make his ride friction free and without a hitch. He hissed at the feel of her cushiony lips sliding wetly and softly over his ruthless, lust swollen cock. He fucked her mouth even harder. And, with the spirit of a true, she took it all without a word or a whimper, aiding and abetting each and every move he made.
He fucked harder and harder as his balls began to clench up into his body and tremble with that signal which told him he was soon to shoot all his cream into that wonderful mouth that was working him like some huge suction machine.
She became a devil as his cock rammed away at her. She knew it would be impossible to take this kind of cock beating without her mouth coming apart. Anita had to get that big-cocked, ruthless stud to shoot and fill her with his cream. His hard pumping and her hard sucking were moving things towards this junction and they were moving there at lightning speed.
He let go of the desk near the end and grabbed at her face and head and held them as he punched into her mouth with his swollen cock. He felt like a powerful sheikh, fucking his best harem slave with the fierceness and lust of a true desert son.
She took the ramming, using her lips and tongue to lick and lave and her mouth to suckle. She salivated like a desert dervish and sloshed the saliva around to make his cock dance like lightning in and out of her mouth.
Her head hummed with the sound of him working her and her brain seethed with heathen fire at the sight and sound of his body ravaging her lips and tongue and the insides of her mouth. Towards the end she took everything he gave without showing one drop of resistance.
"I'm going to cum," he gasped and then, as he said the words, she felt his body stop a second, grow rigid and arch. His cock swelled, growing another half inch, throbbed and felt like a hand grenade about to explode, which it did.
He shot his first thick gob into her mouth and then began to piston back and forth and fuck her with utter ruthlessness. Anita was no longer able to suck or keep control, as the vast, thickness of him filled her and shot machine-gun bullet pellets of white cream into her mouth and then down her straining throat.
She held and swallowed and took every drop he gave. Pellet after pellet flew from his swollen cockhead into her throat. Anita worked him hard as she tried to keep up that great rhythm she had continued till now. But Anita was unable to bring it off. His rough assault had thrown her off balance.
She felt his cock jerk about inside her as he continued shooting in smaller and smaller bursts. It was all Anita could do to hold him and keep him in place as he rammed away. It was punch, punch, punch. And some of the blasts were touching the back of her throat. She fought to keep blowing and swallowing without gagging. And somehow she brought it off.
King was gasping and hissing and groaning and every two seconds his face exploded in what looked to be pain, but was really pleasure. Rivers of sweat ran from him. The back of his shirt was wet and the front too. His ass and balls were clenching with each jerk of his madly punching cock. Each shot that flew from him was given up with a groan and a hiss of pure delight. He could barely breathe, so great was the pleasure that rushed through him. There were times when he thought he would keel over or that his lungs would collapse.
He strained every muscle to fuck harder still. And he did. His brain boiled and flew about inside his skull. He could almost see it, behind his clenched shut eyes. It danced about in an incandescent syrup which swirled inside his head.
And then, quite suddenly, it was over. He began to come down off the plateau. He began to shake less and breathe more easily and his chest and belly heaved a bit less. His cock, he was aware, was shrinking in her still sucking mouth. He felt as if almost all the cum in him had been sucked out and swallowed down.
Then, King opened his eyes and smiled, almost with affection at the wonderful black bitch between his legs, lovingly sucking away on his still fat log of a cock.
Anita knew enough not to stop till he asked her to. He had been sucked dry. She was sure there was not a drop left in him and he could not complain. That had been some job of blowing. A good blow job would insure a happy man. And happy men rarely hurt a girl, at least she hoped so.
She sucked him for a minute longer; sending warm, gentle needle sensations up his body and through his cock into his balls. He closed his eyes and put his hands atop her head and enjoyed this service, sighing in the warm aftermath of a trained and loving mouth.
She felt the pressure atop her head, and adjusted her neck muscles to take him. There was some shivering on her part, but Anita kept on. His actions clearly showed he wanted to remain in the warm afterglow of the fine blow he'd just had. How long King would stay was up to him and not her. Anita continued with her sucking, her cheeks and jaw muscles tired, her bones hurting, the pressure in her eyes and sinuses and the fishy taste down her throat and in her mouth making her tired of this sport. If she had loved or even like him this would be something she would willingly do.
King sighed. She was very good. Most whores for pay just dropped your cock out almost before you were done coming cumming. It was like they were doing you a favor even though you were paying them good hard earned money.
Only the fifty dollar an hour kind kept sucking after you were done and for maybe a minute or two more; just like a fine date. The seventy-five dollar an hour chick might suck for ten minutes more, after the blow was done with, so he could cum a second time in her mouth. Girls like that had powerful mouths from long years of cocksucking experience. If they ever gave out Phd's. in that subject, they'd get it no holds barred, hands down. He was sure Anita could have been that kind of girl, had she wanted, and now, just for him, out of fear alone, she was.
As she sucked Anita became aware he was growing again. She knew where this would lead to and began to run her teeth gently up and down the length of his cock, stopping every half minute to nibble with vigor but gentleness on meat swollen so hard now between her numb and bruised lips.
She put on speed to make him cum faster. This was getting to be an overwhelming task and she had to end it somehow, she told herself. Her teeth and lips worked in alternating moves to make him redder and hotter.
His hands had now lifted off her head and were holding onto the desk again as she made him clench his eyes, gasp, throw back his head. King was swimming once more. He felt pains and rumbles in his balls. She was too much, this bitch, too much. Already, she had made his still sensitive, overworked balls, hum with the fire of passion.
Her hands rose and with both hands she grasped his balls. Each hand began to squeeze rhythmically at a ball and make him gasp with the rushing fires roiling in his roots. She used her long nails to scratch gently and scrapingly along the surface of the sacs in which his balls were contained. Great red bursts of fire exploded in the black void behind his eyes.
She held his sac in both hands and tugged down, applying pressure on his balls. He gasped even louder. She poked her nails into the sac surface, one nail behind a ball and one in front, and began digging fingers into his skin sac and ball surface. This was done firmly, but gently and caused his balls to send firey sensations rushing along his spine to erupt in his brain. His cock grew harder and quivered more. He began to grit his teeth and suck air in between his gritted teeth and through his flaring nostrils.
Anita stopped what she was doing to his balls and began to tug at the hairs and then squeezed his balls in pulsating motions. These moves followed one another and Anita did not pursue one move too long before switching to the next and back again. The differing and constant vast sensations had their effect as he swelled to full length and then grabbed her head and hair and began tugging on it. She increased the level of her sucking and the pistoning of her soft, pink painted mouth; going as fast as she could. But even so Anita was not able to go as fast as she had been able to.
Anita didn't have to. He was wound up from the last blow and as he swelled his cock began to quiver, the milky sperm, now watery, that was left in him, shot from his cock in hot, hissing spits of sperm-fire.
She swallowed and wiggled her head from side to side to make his cock sway around some more. As King exploded within her mouth he arched and a low yell of pleasure escaped from an open mouth suddenly gone crooked.
She was driving him up the wall. The second cumming hurt. It also made every nerve in his cock tingle with pleasure so that he was barely able to move and instead, hissed and trembled and felt a level of pleasure unlike the pleasure he had so far received. This pleasure was deeper, sharper, higher, not as thick as the first, just as his cum was more watery.
His skull vibrated with the blasts of erotic energy coming up into it from his cock and making him feel as if he would pass out from excess of pleasure at any moment. But, by gritting his teeth, he held and enjoyed every cocksucking moment of what she gave him. He felt the flow abate even as his body screamed at the torture of the pleasure and his mind raced with colors, sounds, stray and erratic thoughts. He had never thought a man could receive so much pleasure and joy that he would pass out and then die. It became so vast, so ruthless, that he thought he would scream no more. But then it was abating and as it did, his senses no longer danced so much and his brain was able to reason without the vast stress. He held and enjoyed the aftermath as she sucked and swallowed and worked him like few high class hookers or dates of the evening would. Though these days there was very little difference, because dates cost almost as much; at least as far as King was concerned. But what would he know? He was married, with a homely wife, who wasn't giving him all he wanted, which was the reason he was doing this to Anita Dumont now.
His cock shrank faster this time and he came back to earth with a rush. Looking down at her working him with weary movement he was moved to a moment of kindness. After all, the poor piece of ass had done enough.
Anita felt her whole face numb and sore and hoped he would say stop. As if an angel from heaven had been listening and working on King's brain, he spoke.
"Okay, you can stop now." He said it with a hint of gentleness in his voice. But he realized at the same time the consequences of what he'd done and thought of what to say next.
She dropped him from her mouth and swallowed, looking at his matted crotch hairs and the red stub of his cock resting there and his tired-looking balls hanging down. She looked at his red and lecherous face, still grinning.
Her face reflected her exhaustion. Her lips were puffed and smeared with cum and saliva and lipstick. Her eyes were drowsy, her hair disheveled. Her entire body from the waist up glistened with sweat like the finest of polished ebony and made her look some African goddess-princess about to be sacrificed to appease the mighty volcano god.
Just staring at her sitting there at his feet made his cock tingle. But no more, he decided. He did not want to get a heart attack. He staggered up from his leaning against the desk position and went around behind his desk, while Anita struggled to get out of her kneeling position and onto her feet. She found her energy reserves had been sapped by the overwhelming blow and she proved unable to do a thing.
At last, she did rise. Anita stared at him, as her head reeled and her legs felt like rubber. The places where the flesh had been too tightly pressed tingled as oxygen flowed back with the life giving blood that carried it. She felt the pains and her face momentarily exploded in a rictus of pain. This was so much like the rictus of passion he had seen on the faces of women that his cock again tingled as he flopped into his chair and sat there, staggered back, legs splayed out in front of him.
She stood there, and gasped, while her tits heaved up and down, giving him a graphic display of their size and the way they moved and enticed him. She was a portrait in pain. And he knew that later on, thinking about her the way she was now, his cock would rise and all he would have to satisfy him was the wishy-washy cunt of his unappealing wife.
"Sit down," he said, indicating with his chin the chair to the side of her. She staggered into it and sat there, barely able to talk. She tried, but her mouth was numb and what emerged were long moans.
"Your are good, little lady," he said, wagging a finger at her. "A girl like you is a girl after my heart. It can be easy on you if you're good to me."
She didn't answer. Her mouth was too numb and she was too stunned.
He realized that and sat forward, looking at her and added emphasis to his voice. "Listen good. What we did here," he pointed to the room around them, "is for you and me and the walls. Tell no one and make no complaints. Be damn sure you don't. Because you won't be able to prove it and the company will take my word over yours. As a result I'll just say you got drunk. I'm a respectable man with a family and a sweet, loving wife, even though I'll admit within these four walls that she doesn't come up to your kneecaps when it comes to blowing and I'll bet you're a lot better in everything else when it comes to doing it under the sheets.
"But just remember," again, he wagged his finger fiercely at her, "don't tell a soul. Because if you do, not only won't you get any justice. You'll be fired."
This struck like a hammerblow. Loosing her job was something she hadn't counted on. She shivered. She'd have to go on welfare if she lost this job. And welfare was something Anita didn't want to go on. She wouldn't be able live down the sniggers of neighbors who were on welfare and always spoke ill of her because Anita carried her head higher then them, worked hard and assumed she was better. Only now, King had pulled her down into the gutter with him. She sighed and shook her head in understanding.
"Okay." He nodded his head towards her sweater, lying on the floor. "Get your stuff. Get dressed, and hustle your ass outta here."
Added to the stunning things already done to her these words landed like additional blows. She rose and dressed, feeling like the black wench taken by the plantation master and now dismissed for the night.
He stood up as she began to walk slowly from the office and said, with a sly smile across his face, "be sure to be on time to the plant tomorrow. We wouldn't want you to be late now!"