Chapter 1: Taking Control

It was boring she sat in the window watching traffic on the freeway for a while. The she stared at the empty windows next door. When the family moved out, they took even the drapes and blinds so she could see inside. Old wood paneling just like their house. It looked like a mirror reflection of their house – only in the reflection she wasn't sitting in the second story bay window. There was only about 5 feet between her bay window and the bay window on the other house. Looking around she jumped up and opened the door to the hall. Carefully she listened she could hear her mother singing down in the kitchen, the smell of stewed meat and vegetables floated in the air. She walked to the handrail and looked down at the stairs then out into the room.

No one was wondering about. Her dad's hat was gone so he was not home. Her mother's soft voice filled the air with the old hymn, "Nearer my God to Thee," Her mother sang with her angelic voice. Millie hated hymns and that shit; even so, she had walked the isle the year before at that big city wide event. That blonde man around forty, with his killer eyes, preached right at her. Every time he was on her side his eyes fixed on her. She knew he was talking to her. All about saving her soul and doing right. He moved her, his big blue eyes, blonde hair and that killer smile. When he saw her kneeling and praying, he came down and put his hands on her to bless the girl. Hand on her head he prayed for her as a powerful wave of emotion swept over her.

Kneeling there she glanced up and the button slipped through the hole and his coat opened. That was when she saw it, that big ole rock hard dick right through his suit pants she let out a soft, "She-It." He looked down re-buttoning his coat then winked at her. Kneeling beside her, he began to pray loud then said amen and whispered in her ear.

"I'm in room 21 at the Riverview come see me and I will pray with you tonight. Come just after midnight if you can slip away." It is possible he thought she was older than 14, most 14-year-old girls don't have double C cupped titties. Still her face was childlike and that should have told him. In the end, he wasn't nearly as devout as he was perverted. Millie knocked on his door at 12:30 having shimmed down the drain pipe next her room and run as fast as she could. He opened the door and smiled at her. He had on a robe and showed her in quickly. Looking around he closed the door confident no one saw her come in the room. He sweet talked her by telling her she was pretty on the outside and more beautiful on the inside. He touched her, softly carefully not in a sexual way. Offering her wine as 'sacrament' to seal her salvation with an impromptu tradition for very devout young women. They knelt on the floor his bible in front of them and he read her scriptures about the worth of women.

All the while his hand lightly soothingly moved over her back or touched her hair. Slowly he changed to a more sensuous touching. Between the emotion of her 'conversion, ' and the tension of craving something she knew was wrong she was on a teeter totter. He stopped reading the bible as they drank more of the ceremonial wine. Carefully he put the little pills in where she didn't see him do it. He would swish the wine around in the glass dissolving the pills. Millie drank the wine and it warmed her as did his hands. Honest religious fervor and white hot hormonal passion joined with the rape drug bringing her closer to a precipice. His skillful hands moved over her body pushing her nearer and near to the point of no return.

Clutching her to him he again began to pray a carefully crafted prayer he had used fifty or sixty times. "OH, Lord my God my needs have never been met. I have kept myself for you alone pure of heart and body, but you created fire in this girl. I feel it burning in her, burning through her flesh." He pushed his hand between her legs and Millie quivered from the exhilaration. "I know Lord you have ordained that she meet the needs I have buried deep inside. I see clearly that you have given us a special dispensation," He manipulated her hand under his robe where his colossal rigid cock burned. "I have burned in the fires of hell every night since I started this. Now you have given this girl to me. I know she is here to fulfill my need!" Touching his cock – that enormous hard hot meaty prick – set off her emotions, hormones, along with the area of the brain that the drug worked on, it produced more than a willingness. Wrapping her fingers around it, she turned to him and smothered his words with a kiss.

Pushing her down on the floor he covered her tiny body with his massive body. Reaching over he grabbed the cord to the lamp that provided the only light in the room and yanked it out of the socket. They were covered in darkness. He pressed her legs apart and skillfully removed her clothes. Pulling his robe off the preacher pressed his cock to her small opening. Slowly he slid it in, all the while, he painted pretty words in her ears of how special she was. Slowly he pushed the big fat head of his cock in and Millie tightened up from the pain. He whispered to her that it wouldn't hurt much or for long. He moved in deeper hitting the hymen.

"Cherry," he said in a soft whisper as he pushed hard to rupture it. "Nice," it was the last words he spoke to Millie. He rammed his cock home hard and deep. No longer concerned with seducing her he ravaged her body. The pain tore her apart; even so, the passion overtook the pain. Soon the pain was unimportant as they repeatedly fucked. Not a word did they exchange. He would no more bust his nut in her, then again he plunged his prick in deep and hard. Millie shuttered through orgasm after orgasm. Lost in a tidal wave of conflicting feelings and thoughts. At some point, her self-worth melted away.

She awoke to the sound of a car starting. Laying on the floor her crotch burned like the fires of hell. It was not the good passion burn, but the sore you get after you fucked yourself raw. That scorching pain that just hurts like hell. Her pussy felt ripped open. A pain deep inside like the fat dick was still there.

Millie crawled to the window and peeked out between the slats of the blind. He backed out of the space in front of the room. Millie looked around and saw her skirt, blouse, and shoes, there were no panties but a Bible sat on top of the neatly folded clothes with a note. Pulling the note out there was a one hundred dollar bill and the note said "bless you child – go and sin no more. I kept your panties as a reminder of our special prayer meeting."

A surge of self-loathing filled her as guilt turned her stomach sour. She hated church and anything to do with it from that moment on. Rushing home, she changed to jeans and a new shirt. Millie ran down the stairs just as her mother was about to call her for breakfast. For hours, she could feel his cock in her but not like when they fucked – it hurt and burned in her like hell's own fire.

Slowly, inevitably, her life returned to nearly the ordinary life she had lived before – except for one detail. She burned with the fire of passion all the time, she saw men and wondered what their pricks were like. She shunned contact with boys her age or even the girls. She dreamed of a man, but not just a man. A man she could control, use and be the master of. A man she could throw away if she wanted or at the snap of her fingers would do anything she wished. She fingered herself in the bathroom at school, the mall bathroom, or alone in her room. Which was exactly what she wanted at that moment as she listened to see if it was safe to satisfy herself, alone, in her room.

Returning to her room, she closed the door and 'accidently' locked it. Sitting on the window seat again, she pulled a cigarette from the pack and lit it. She put the smoke in her mouth and unbuttoned her shorts. Looking around guiltily, she assured herself no one would see her. Millie slid down the zipper and again looked around outside and around her room. Her tits are grown considerably in the past year. Her left hand moved to her fat H-cup tits and she lightly squeezed them a few times. Closing her eyes, she sucked in the smoke and held it for a long time as she toyed with her breast. Soon she stubbed the cigarette out in the ashtray between her legs, her right hand moved to her crotch. She touched herself through the rough denim of her cutoffs. Squeezed herself and rubbed around, fuck it feels good. Her hand moved to the waistband of her pink thong, gradually she slid her fingers under the band and down lower, lower. The thick bush of pubic hair felt like a Brillo pad. She liked that feel, she kept it trimmed but didn't want to shave it. Lower still to the slickness that waited for her.

Jim White was aptly name, his pale skin and blonde hair made him the whitest of wonder bread. He pulled the boxes from a small trailer and pondered where he should put them. New town, new house, new job at a new school should make for a new and improved life. He was uncomfortable though, he had taken a job in the inner city because he wanted to help those less fortunate. He hadn't counted on that clause in the contract stating you had to live no more than 4 miles from the school. The plus was the rent was low the minus was he was surrounded by a sea of brown to down right black people. He stuck out like a speck of sugar on a chocolate bar.

Looking up, he saw a young black girl smoking a cigarette and thought bad parenting – that girl can't be over seventeen. It was the tits that fooled him into thinking she was that old. He carried the box in and sat it down in the bare living room. The furniture wouldn't be there until the next day. He had an air mattress, a couple of boxes of books, some clothes, vodka, some kitchen stuff and a few groceries. Going back, he thought he better get the kitchen stuff and groceries first. He glanced up at the bay window again and almost dropped the bag of groceries. The girl was touching her breast blacks are like wild sexual animals he thought. Then the old fantasy jumped to his mind – shaking it off he continued with his chores.

He wasn't going to like it here that was certain. Soon he had moved almost everything into the house. He carried the mattress up the stairs laid it out near the bay window in what was to be his bedroom. Plugging the pump into the mattress, he sat and watched the bed filling up with air.

The thought invaded his mind and consumed him. "You're not worth the tits on a bore hog son," his father barked it out at him with out thinking about what it might do to Jim. He thought of the belt and how often it had stung him. The endless beatings with that awful belt. Then there were his father's fist and how he busted his eye once. Broken arms, ribs and busted lips were common when he was a boy. Once he was too big for his father to beat him he just belittled him. He destroyed his confidence.

The women in his life hadn't been much better. His mother cowered in fear of his father but heaped punishment on him. Often she deflected blame for what displeased his father, moving it from her to him. Teachers treated him badly thinking him to be to wimpy they gave him tough love. It served to further crush his confidence. The one time he worked up courage to ask a girl on a date it ended in disaster.

He was 15 and a freshman at school. The school had a computer matching service run matches for all the students. He was matched with a senior girl – homecoming queen – cheerleader – beauty pageant queen – voted the prettiest and the most likely to marry money! One day holding his computer match card in his trembling hand he walked up to her. Smiling he handed it to her and said, "We should go to the dance this Friday and discuss this." She laughed at him, all the girls around did. When it got out the whole school laughed at him. That was his last attempt to ask a girl out. Not even girls that threw themselves at him got any attention from him.

Jim White was damaged with deep scars. He hated being around all these big black men. He worried they would break in his home and beat him up. He feared the black men or even black women – to make the difficulties worse dark women were a particular fascination to him. He lusted after them and most of his fantasy centered on small black women with big tits. Aggressive women, dark skinned, domineering, demanding women who wouldn't be refused by him. It was an obsession mingled with lust and fear.

Absently he turned and look directly out his window into the corresponding window next door. His obsession slapped his face hard. The girl's hand was down in her pants. He could plainly see her as her hand moved so furiously under her tight shorts while her other hand massaged her breast. She was almost close enough to touch. Less than his height separated her from him. He moved as close to the glass as he could. Pressing his face right against the window. He was drawn inexorably to the vision of this woman child. Her hips pushed up and gyrated around as she flung her head back. The girls eyes rolled around under the lids like she was dreaming and her mouth was gaping open as she huffed and panted. He realized she was in the throws of a climacteric stupor. At last her body stop moving as she collapsed down on herself. Everything went limp on her as she rolled her head against the glass. Her big chest heaved as she sucked air deeply. This sweet chocolate angel was only 5 feet from him. Her eyes opened. The two of them stared at each other.