Chapter 21: Unraveled Bonds

“I want to see my wife before I leave,” Steve demanded, his voice a frayed thread of resolve.

Captain Torres had been savoring this moment, his anticipation a coiled serpent ready to strike. The Jordans were a rare prize—among the few couples he’d ensnared over the years. Jaime fit his mold perfectly, paired with an ideal male inmate at the precise moment fate delivered her. Now he relished the chance to watch this smug American husband unravel, discovering his young wife had been claimed by a Black stud—a twisted spectacle he’d engineered with meticulous glee.

“Now that you’re leaving us soon, I figured you’d want one last look at her,” Torres said coolly, as Steve sat in the Captain’s private office, wrists cuffed behind him—a prisoner to both steel and truth. “She’s a stunning woman, your wife—I understand why you’d want that. Sadly, you can’t see her in person before you go. She’s ... occupied, as you’ll see.”

A 42-inch ultra-high-definition monitor loomed on the desk, a cold oracle of revelation. Torres nudged the mouse, opened a folder brimming with video files, scrolled with practiced ease, and clicked his favorite with a faint smirk—a predator baring its teeth.

“Comfortable, Señor Jordan? This’ll take a while, but you should watch it all,” he said, his voice smooth as polished obsidian.

Torres had crafted this video himself, sifting through weeks of raw footage to assemble the choicest cuts—perfect angles of his two ‘special’ prisoners entwined, the degradation a canvas he’d painted with care. The editing was meticulous, a labor of perverse joy, yielding a polished video he took pride in. More clips awaited his scrutiny, and future scenes begged to be captured—a gallery of ruin yet to unfold.

“You’ll see how your loyal wife’s been passing her days here. She’s finally coming around—I’m pleased with her rehabilitation. And don’t worry, she’s in good hands now; you can let her go,” he added, his words a venomous lure.

With a final click, the video swallowed the screen and played—a portal to Steve’s undoing.

Steve’s gut twisted as the footage flickered to life—Jaime, his wife, trapped in a tight jail cell, thrashing against a young Black male, barely 19 or 20, a feral shadow overpowering her frail form. He wanted to look away, to shield himself from the violence and her desperate cries, but his eyes stayed glued, a moth pinned to flame. “No ... don’t hit me again,” Jaime’s voice rang out, sharp and pleading, igniting a wildfire of fury in Steve’s chest. How could anyone brutalize her like this?

“Look at her, Señor Jordan. See how she begged for mercy, fought for her honor,” Torres mocked, his voice a cold blade slicing through Steve’s rage.

Steve’s face burned red, fury boiling over like molten lead. “What did you do to my wife? Turn off this sick video and let me see her, you son of a bitch!” he roared, straining against his cuffs.

Torres smirked, pausing the video with a flick of the mouse—a momentary reprieve laced with menace. “Oh, we’ve only started, Señor Jordan. This is just a glimpse of what your loyal wife endured these past months. Trust me, it softens—less violence, more ... affection, as they warm to each other,” he said, his insinuation a barbed hook.

Steve’s stomach lurched, bile rising at the twisted promise. “You disgusting monster! I won’t watch this filth!” he bellowed. “I want her in person!”

But Torres had his prize—Steve’s crushed spirit, a trophy of his design. He knew Steve couldn’t escape the pull of this grotesque drama now. “Oh, but you need to see her fate, Señor Jordan,” he replied, voice smooth as he restarted the video, his cruel delight masked beneath a veneer of calm.

Steve clamped his eyes shut as the young thug ripped at Jaime’s prison uniform, the sound a brutal assault—her raw struggle piercing through: “No ... don’t ... ugh ... stop it ... owe ... ah ... leave me alone ... don’t!” Her pleas clawed at him, a dagger twisting in his soul.

“Come on, baby. Stop makin’ me get rough. You liked gettin’ my big Black dick yesterday,” Reggie’s voice rasped, hard and unyielding.

“Nah ... I didn’t ... I hated it. Don’t touch me, you sick pervert...” Jaime countered, her defiance a fragile shield.

Steve gritted his teeth, straining to drown out her frail pleas, but the rustle of fabric, the wet smack of flesh on flesh, her choked gasps, and faint splashes—like something slick and yielding—burrowed into his ears, undeniable as a death knell.

His eyes flicked open, locking onto the monitor’s brutal close-up: dark fingers prying apart a white girl’s labia, legs splayed wide, her pale skin stark against the attacker’s—a tableau of violation. The pink folds gleamed, delicate as butterfly wings, slick with a sheen like dawn dew as her assailant spread them, baring her clit to the lens—a cruel spotlight on her shame.

Steve clung to a shred of hope it wasn’t her, a desperate lifeline—until he spotted it: the tiny brown freckle on Jaime’s mons pubis. His heart plummeted, a lead weight crashing into his gut, the truth a warhead blasting away his last flicker of denial. Ice-cold dread flooded him, that mark—hers—pinning him to the screen, undeniable proof of her desecration.

Steve’s eyes bulged, aghast, as a monstrous Black cock swung into view, hovering over Jaime’s exposed, defenseless pussy—a grotesque threat wielded by the beast who’d mauled her. A thick dribble of precum leaked from its glossy tip, drooling like venom onto her skin below, its sheer bulk a looming terror. Steve’s stomach roiled—he could almost feel its heavy heat pressing down on her, a nightmare searing into his mind, indelible as a brand.

The dark-skinned thug angled his rigid shaft down, dragging its plush head across Jaime’s clit, smearing her with his slick ooze—a vile clash of flesh and fluids. Steve recoiled, nausea surging at the raw lewdness, his wife’s torment a wound he couldn’t stanch.

“No! ... Ugh ... Don’t ... Disgustin’ ... Stop it!” Jaime’s wails cut through, her hands flailing to shield herself, briefly blotting the screen—a fleeting barrier against the youth’s reach.

But his relentless pursuit of her clit pressed on, leaving Steve queasy and powerless, trapped by the unfolding filth. “It been over a year since I had pussy, and you got a fine one, baby. Stop blockin’ me from that silky white pussy,” Reggie rasped off-screen, his voice a hard edge of hunger.

A sharp smack cracked in the background, the camera fixed on Jaime’s hands guarding her pussy. “Ugh! No, don’t touch me, you bastard!” she cried, defiance fraying.

“Move them hands off your pussy, baby. I want it again,” he growled.

Jaime’s hands held firm, filling the frame—a trembling wall. “My husband’s gonna—” she began, a desperate threat cut short.

Another slap rang out, slicing through the room like a whipcrack. “What I tell you ‘bout threatenin’ me with your husband? He ain’t here and ain’t gonna stop this. You mine now,” Reggie snarled, his claim a brutal stamp.

“No, I don’t belong to you ... I’ll never be yours ... No ... don’t touch me ... not again. No, Reggie...” Jaime sobbed, her voice a tattered banner of resistance.

Reggie—that name seared into Steve’s mind, the vile thug defiling her branded into his memory. A heavy thud echoed, likely a blow to Jaime’s face, and she whimpered, “Ahh ... oh,” her face off-screen, her hands faltering, sliding from their guard—a breach in her defenses.

“There we go. That’s a good girl. Just let me play with your clit a lil’ while, baby. Ain’t gonna hurt you—gonna put you in a better mood,” Reggie cooed, his voice slick with menace, a predator soothing its prey.

The camera tightened on Reggie’s dark fingers, easing Jaime’s unprotected labia apart—a cruel unveiling. He zeroed in, dragging his rigid cock’s plush head over her clit like a relentless wiper, slathering it with more of his slick precum—a toxic glaze staining her flesh. Steve’s eyes stuck to the screen, pinned to the close-up of Jaime’s pink clit—each swipe of Reggie’s monstrous shaft making it twitch back, taut and defiant. Her muted moans droned in the background, a battle she couldn’t win.

“Nah ... oh ... no ... don’t ... you’re sick ... not again ... no more. Please ... nooo ... why do you keep doing this to me? I’m a Christian. Please ... this is wrong ... I don’t want this...” Jaime’s ragged sobs spilled out, her hands slapping feebly at Reggie’s chiseled stomach—a last, weak stand against the assault, a plea drowned by his dominance.

The scene unfolded like a warped duel, one fighter dwarfing the other in strength—a grotesque mockery of power. Steve heard the revulsion and loathing in Jaime’s cries—proof she didn’t want this—yet her powerlessness against the forced arousal churned his gut with nausea, a vile parody of pleasure twisting her against herself.

A crisp slap cracked through the room, chased by Jaime’s faint whimper, and Steve flinched—her hands jerking back from the close-up, baring her core to Reggie and the lens once more—a sick, repeating cycle unspooling before him like a reel of despair.

“Gonna make you want it, baby. You liked it when I fucked you last time,” Reggie growled, ripping his thick, pulsing Black cock away for a cruel tease. Jaime’s body quaked beneath his steely hold, pinned and helpless, her clit swollen and throbbing, glazed by his forced slickness—a traitor’s mark. Steve stared, gutted and frozen, as the thug ravaged his wife on the screen, a relentless, menacing force bending her to his will.

Reggie slammed his massive, veined shaft against Jaime’s slick clit, each blow a vicious clap—her body writhing and whimpering, pinned under the relentless assault. Her flesh turned traitor, quivering with forced arousal—a sick betrayal of her anguished mind and soul. Steve sat rigid, terror locking him in place as his wife endured this feral violation, her sanctity shredded.

Whack ... whack ... whack...

The wet slaps ricocheted through the room, tangling with Jaime’s frantic pleas—a cacophony of torment. Reggie, merciless, battered his rigid cock against her swollen clit, each hit shoving unwanted jolts through her, her cries a desperate bid for release from the nightmare.

“Owe! Why? No ... ah ... stop!” she begged, voice fracturing. Reggie fed on her torment, his voice oozing cruel delight as he pushed her body to crumble further—each smack a hammer on her resolve. Smack ... smack ... smack...

“Come on, baby. Get that clit harder for me,” he taunted, stoking her flesh with relentless strikes.

Smack ... smack ... smack...

“Ugh ... no ... ah ... don’t!” she gasped, resistance waning.

Smack ... smack ... smack...

“Ah ... ooh ... no more ... please!” she pleaded, voice a fraying thread.

Smack ... smack ... smack...

“Nah ... uh ... ah ... ah ... oh ... oh ... oh ... ooh...” her cries shifted, a reluctant tide rising.

“There we go. That’s it, baby. That clitty firming up—you respondin’ real nice for me. Gonna make you fuck better, more lovin’, when you got a boner too,” Reggie sneered, his eyes gleaming with malice as he loomed over Steve’s wife, staking his claim—a vile intent to rape her into submission, her coerced arousal bending her into his twisted affection.

He pulled back his swollen cock, leaving Jaime’s clit bare—its hood peeled away, jutting out raw and engorged from the onslaught—a grotesque, lust-bloated thing Steve had never seen, ravaged by the thug’s depravity. Reggie’s dark skin gleamed with a feral glint as he eased his full, thick cock into Jaime’s exposed core, his thumb mercilessly working her clit hood, trapping her in a haze of anguished arousal. Her tender folds stretched taut, straining around his brutal girth as he sank into her deepest depths—her back arching, a reflex to the invasion, moans raw with pain and unwanted heat spilling into the room.

“Nah ... oh ... what are you doin’? No ... oh God ... hurtin’ ... too big ... stop it!” Jaime wailed, each word a stab piercing Steve’s heart.

Reggie’s eyes burned with primal hunger, a sick grin curling his lips as he drew back his slick, throbbing shaft—then toyed with her swollen clit again, grazing it with his cock, leaving a wet streak of precum glistening on her overtaxed bud. The scene repulsed Steve—a grotesque, erotic nightmare—his wife’s torment both vile and gripping, churning his gut with disgust and a dark, unnameable pang he fought to bury.

“Nah ... oh ... no ... don’t...” Jaime’s voice trembled, a raw blend of protest and moans, her body caught in a reluctant rhythm—muscles clenching and easing under forced arousal.

“Aw, feel good on your clitty, baby? You startin’ to like me playin’ with it with my cock, huh?” Reggie taunted, his tone syrupy with mock tenderness, grinding the dark, swollen head of his rigid Black shaft against her pale, pink clit. “Look how firm and wet you gettin’ for me again.”

Their slickness mingled, a grotesque fusion of fluids—the stark contrast of their skin in this coerced intimacy lending a raw, lewd edge that blurred whose arousal dominated. “Ah ... uh ... no. Why? Why do you keep doing this to me? No—I’m not your wife. I’m a Christian; this is sick,” Jaime groaned, her words sharp with defiance, yet her clit swelled, a traitor pulsing with unsought heat from his relentless cock—a betrayal Steve couldn’t unsee.

Her hips undulated faintly—a motion hinting at capitulation, even as her mind recoiled in hate. The forced coupling’s erotic pull was Jaime’s instant mental agony—each stroke against her clit stabbing home a cruel truth: her body could glean pleasure from this evil, yielding to the pervert’s touch despite her soul’s horror. A war raged within her—arousal a weapon hijacking her flesh, beyond her grip, her mind roaring against the violation while her body’s unwilling responses taunted her fight to stay pure.

Steve’s eyes stuck to the screen, his heart plummeting with each tick—horror swelling as her pelvis shifted again, deliberate now, a faint gyration joining the perversion. This beast was forcing his faithful wife into vile acts! Jaime, devout Christian, clung to resolve, but her body seemed to yield, syncing with the molestations in a grotesque dance. Steve clung to denial, desperate to believe it was beyond her control—a reflex, not choice.

“That it, baby. That the way. Give in and let it happen. It startin’ to feel real good again, even though you don’t want it, ain’t it?” Reggie cooed, his voice thick with mock sweetness. “I told you I’d make you like it.”

“No ... stop it ... why? Don’t ... not my clit ... disgusting ... ah ... oh...” Jaime pleaded, her resistance a fading echo.

“Aww, am I makin’ your clitty feel good, baby? You learnin’ to like that?” he taunted, plunging his massive cock back into her slick pussy, his thumb swiftly tormenting her clit with the same relentless pressure—a wave of vile pleasure forced through her against her will.

“No ... ah ... stop ... touching me there, you filthy pervert,” she moaned, shoving at Reggie’s frame. “Pull out, you disgusting pig!” She writhed beneath him, voice thick with loathing and fury, yet her body’s motions betrayed her—syncing more with the wretched act despite her cries. Reggie had shattered her limits, instinct drowning her moral fight.

He yanked his massive cock from her pussy, shifting to her face—a bruise shadowing her left eye and cheek Steve did not notice before. She quaked, sprawled and gasping. “No ... don’t make me swallow it again,” she whimpered, twisting away, but his hand seized her chin, locking her gaze on the glistening underside of his thick Black shaft, coated in her own fluids—a vile trophy. “Open your mouth for me, baby,” Reggie growled, voice a low, dark threat. “You gonna learn to like how I taste and crave me.”

Steve’s mind flashed to Jaime’s disgust at oral sex with him—how she’d called it perverse, immoral. Now, with a Black man, not her husband, she begged, tears streaking her face—raw terror in her eyes as she stared up, pleading for rescue. “Please ... not again ... I don’t like it ... it’s disgusting...” she moaned, hinting this wasn’t the first time Reggie had forced her to swallow—a revelation that fueled Steve’s rage.