Chapter 2

Delon got to his feet and stood behind me. I stared into the camera as he wrapped his arms around me and grasped a breast in each hand. He pressed his body against mine. I felt his hard cock pressing against my lower back and I shuddered again. It feels huge. I can’t tell how large it is. But there isn’t any doubt it’s larger than my husband’s more than adequate six-inch cock.

He bent down and kissed the back of my neck before whispering, “I’ve noticed you’ve spent a lot of time staring out of the window this morning. Are you looking for someone? Are you hoping more guys are going to join us?”

He didn’t wait for an answer. He knows that isn’t the case. He squeezed my tits and said, “Don’t worry, Brooke. It won’t be long before it isn’t just the two of us. But first I’m going to have to see how much training you need. I’ll need to find out what you’re good at and where you need more training. But if you’re so fascinated by what’s going on out there I can make it easier for you.”

He released my breasts and walked over to the large picture window which looks out on our small front yard and the street. The window takes up a large part of that wall. It’s ten feet wide and spans from six inches above the floor to six inches down from the ceiling.

The first thing we do when we come downstairs in the morning is open the heavy drapes over the window leaving only the sheers in place. That lets in plenty of light and the sheers provide enough privacy in the daylight hours.

Delon pulled aside the sheers which are our only source of privacy in this room. I now stood naked in my front room, visible to anyone walking by or driving by slowly. He turned around and smiled at me, enjoying once more the terror on my face. In a taunting voice he said, “There! Now you can see everyone going past much more clearly.”

Yes. I can. And I know from having checked from the sidewalk in front of my house that with those sheers open anyone who looks at my window can see in, can see me.

Delon looked through the viewfinder of his movie camera and adjusted the angle slightly. He straightened up and said, “What we need is a cameraman. I don’t imagine I’ll have any trouble finding a volunteer before our next session.”

He went around the coffee table and stood behind me. I can’t see him but I hear him back there. He’s getting undressed. I don’t know where to look now. I don’t want to keep staring into that damn camera. I’m extremely distressed at the view through my window now that anyone walking by can see me standing here naked with a teenage boy who will soon be naked, too.

Long before I found some neutral point upon which I can safely focus my eyes I felt Delon pressing up against my back once more. But now it’s even worse than a moment ago. He’s naked now! The heat from his body almost feels as if it’s burning my skin. I can feel the shaft of his cock throbbing against my lower back. One large, black hand reached around and cupped my breast. The other slid slowly down over my stomach until it came to rest on my pussy. His hand cupped me there and gently squeezed.

His hips gyrated slowly and as his cock left a snail trail of lubricant across my back he said, “It’s time for your first test. Let’s see how much training you’re going to need before I can turn you into a decent cocksucker, Brooke.”

He sat back down on the sofa beside me and said, “Turn and face me.”

I turned and despite my determination not to look, my eyes were immediately drawn to his hard cock. It doesn’t seem outlandishly large. I’ve heard stories of much bigger ones. But it’s unquestionably the largest cock I’ve ever seen in person. I estimate that it’s maybe a little less than eight inches long, perhaps a little longer. What concerns me more than its length is that it’s half again as big around as my husband’s.

It’s certainly impressive, threatening even. It’s not, however, some monster cock. It isn’t as long as I feared when I felt it pressing against my back or when I was judging by the bulge in the front of his pants earlier.

I waited for the command to kneel. But he isn’t through degrading me yet. His eyes explored my body thoroughly for a moment before he said, “Spread your legs farther apart.”

I obeyed but he wasn’t satisfied.

“Farther!”

I spread them slightly more than shoulder width apart and stood there while he continued to debase me with his prying eyes. I can’t bring myself to look at him. I stared off into the distance behind him and waited for his next command. I don’t understand why he doesn’t just order me to my knees and get this over with.

He ordered me to turn around. I almost screamed in frustration. I certainly don’t want to have to suck the little bastard off. But it’s torture the way he’s dragging this out. Of course, he probably knows that. I suppose that, as much as anything else, he’s savoring the power he has over me.

I turned and stood with my back to him. He ordered me to spread my legs apart again and then he ordered me to bend over, keeping my legs straight, and rest my hands flat on the floor.

I leaned over very slowly, feeling my labia spread and the cool room air flow over my moist sex. I know just exactly what kind of view he now has of the most intimate areas of my body. I don’t know whether to be furious or humiliated beyond belief. So I chose both.

I saw movement between my legs. It drew my eyes and I was forced to watch his hand moving slowly up and down the shaft of his cock. Looking beyond that I can’t avoid seeing the lust bloated face of the young man who’s in total control of my body now. The boy who’s about to rape me.

But he isn’t through degrading me yet. His voice is different now, thicker. I heard the lust when he said, “Reach up and spread your pussy open.”

I would never have let my husband see me in this vulgar position. Not that he would have asked. Not even after eight years of marriage. Yet I have no choice but to reach between my thighs and slowly spread my labia, allowing this obnoxious teenager a perfect view of the entrance to my vagina.

To make what I’m doing even more mortifying, I feel traces of the slippery moisture beginning to seep out of me. It’s slowly oozing out of my opening and lightly coating the area of my body which is the object of so much of his attention.

He stared at my exposed sex in that degrading position for a very long time before he said, “It won’t be long, Brooke. It won’t be long at all before you feel my cock filling that hot little hole. But first, let’s see if you’re any good with that smart mouth of yours. It’s time. Get on your knees.”

I removed my hands from my pussy and stood up quickly. I turned to face Delon. I tried not to think about what I’m about to be compelled to do as I sank slowly to my knees on the carpet at his feet.

I saw a car go slowly passed out front but I’m not worried so much about people in vehicles. The speed limit on this street is only twenty-five miles an hour. While it may be possible to see through a large picture window from a car driving past at that speed, I don’t imagine many people drive by trying to look into houses. I’m more concerned with people going by on the sidewalk or with my neighbors stepping out into their yards and perhaps seeing movement in my living room, drawing their attention to me, naked, on my knees, sucking a big black cock.

I moved closer and fell to my knees. I inched forward slowly, trying desperately to avoid looking at his throbbing cock but failing miserably. His inflamed sex organ is no more than twenty-four inches from my face. His cock is hard and pulsing, the fat knob at the top, no longer covered by the foreskin is now covered with the slimy lubricant oozing out of him in amounts that only a horny teenager can produce.

His testicles are as impressive as his cock. The large, dark, fuzz covered sack hung down so far that his balls are resting on the sofa cushion. I stared at his cock and balls and tried to force myself to calm down. I tried not to think about what I’m about to do. But it’s like trying to ignore a hurricane. I’ve never seen a black cock. I’ve never seen a cock that large. And I have never been so totally helpless.

I have a lot to worry about at the moment. But what worries me most is that I’m not in charge of this blowjob. I have, on rare occasions, given my husband blowjobs. But I did it on my terms. I licked and kissed his cock. I took the head of it in my mouth and used my hand on the shaft. But he only came in my mouth once, the first time I gave him a blowjob. From that time on he came in a tissue or he stopped me before he reached orgasm and he made love to me in the usual way.

From what Delon said earlier about increasing my intake of protein I know there will be no tissues used this time.

His lust choked voice interrupted my reverie. “You can start by licking my balls. Take your time. Remember, this isn’t about getting it over with as quickly as possible. It’s a test to see how well you can please me.”

I leaned forward and rested my forearms on the cushion on either side of his thighs. Just before my tongue touched the bottom of his ball sack his cock throbbed again, excreting what appeared to be nearly a teaspoon of shiny lubricant.

Okay. Maybe that’s a slight exaggeration. But here was a hell of a lot of it. I reminded myself that the stuff is just lubricant. I know, even from my limited experience, that there’s no taste. It’s the same stuff my pussy produces when I become aroused. It’s no big deal.

But there’s so much of it! I’ve never seen anything like it!

I finally touched my tongue to his balls. He may be in charge. But his sudden intake of breath at the touch of my tongue made it obvious that I have at least some power. Unfortunately, it isn’t a power to influence. It’s only a power to effect. He’s definitely not immune to the power of my touch. If only I had the authority to withhold that power.

I’m aware of his clean scent. I’m grateful for that, at least. I’m also aware of the differences between him and the other males I’ve been with. There’s the size of his sex organs, of course. And even more obvious, the stark contrast in skin color. His skin is the color of dark chocolate. His pubic hair is shorter and kinkier. I’m tempted to say that his skin tastes slightly different. But that may be because I’m terrified and helpless. I’ve never been raped before. My senses may have been influenced by that distinction.

He’s staring down at me, watching my pink tongue dance over his dark flesh. Since Delon came barging in here ... I tried to think how long ago that was, but I’m shocked to realize I have no idea. An hour ago ... two? This morning has lasted forever. I have no idea what time it is now. But since he came in and took over, since I began to accept my fate, I have attempted from time to time to judge his level of experience based on his actions and the comments he has made. He’s only sixteen. How much sexual experience can he have?

I’m having trouble making an informed estimate because he’s so arrogant, so damned pompous, so cocksure of himself. He already knew when he came to my door this morning how this was going to turn out. He knew before I opened the front door that I was going to become his sex slave.

It’s obvious he isn’t a virgin. But can he really be as experienced as he seems? I lost my virginity when I was his age. But I didn’t suddenly become promiscuous. I had sex with four boys before I met Doug. But we didn’t do it often. It might have been different if we had more opportunity. But we didn’t.

I had sex with my first boyfriend twice. I was desperately in love with him, and it was the most exciting thing that ever happened to me. I wanted to do it more. It turned out to be just as exciting as I dreamed it would be. I loved being touched in all those forbidden places and the look in his eyes when he saw my naked body. I could almost have had an orgasm from being naked in front of him!

But my parents made certain we seldom had the opportunity to be alone. Like most parents of teenage girls, they watched me like prison guards.

It was a long time after we broke up that I let a boy get past second base again. It happened on a Friday evening. He was stupid enough to brag about it to everyone he met over the weekend. I heard all about it when I got to school the following Monday. I think he told everyone, including the school custodian! I never went out with him again.

I didn’t even go to a movie with another boy for almost a year after that. It was a long time before I had sex with another boy. When I finally did it wasn’t because I was in love with him. I just kind of gave in to the pressure one night. I got tired of all the wrestling. It wasn’t pleasant and I never went out with him again.

I began dating again in my senior year and finally went all the way with the boy I was sure I was going to marry as soon as we graduated. In retrospect it’s easy to see how naïve I was back then. But weren’t we all at that age?

We went our separate ways after graduation. We didn’t even break up, not really. We just kind of stopped dating. I met Doug months later. I was still living at home and living according to my parent’s rules. I was given a little more latitude because I was of age and because I had a job and was paying a small amount of rent. But for the most part my parents still treated me as though I was a young girl going to high school.

Unfortunately, my puny paycheck kept me living at home. I would need to find a much better job before I could afford to move out of my parent’s house and be free at last.

My husband is six years older than me. There was so much about him that impressed me right from the very beginning. I was impressed by his maturity. He’s very good looking, intelligent, honest to a fault, and he has ambition. He was determined to make something of himself. He’s a college graduate and unlike me he wasn’t just going wherever life took him. He had a plan.

College wasn’t a possibility for me. I hoped that I’d get a chance to take night classes someday. My parents weren’t poor. They were middle class, maybe even upper middle class. But they were both in poor health. I didn’t feel like I could leave town. They needed me.

As it turned out, both of my parents passed away within three years of my high school graduation. I devoted a lot of my time over that period to caring for them. If I had started college I would have had to drop out.

I think his education was one of first things that attracted me to Doug. I was thrilled that he would be interested in a simple high school graduate. He didn’t flaunt his education or his intelligence. I never got the impression he was looking down on me. But he has such a clearheaded way of looking at things. He understands things intuitively that I never even bother to think about.

It isn’t that I’m not intelligent. My grades were good when I was in school, but I didn’t work any harder than I had to. My grades weren’t good enough to merit a scholarship if I had been able to continue my education. Instead of going to college I was able to find a clerk typist job in an office downtown as soon as I graduated. Within two weeks of graduation I went to work.

Unlike Doug, I didn’t have a plan. I knew I wanted a better life than I had. But I wasn’t doing anything about it. I wasn’t acquiring any marketable skills or looking into taking evening classes. That may be why Doug impressed me so much right from the start.

We met in the park where we would both go to eat our lunch on nice days. He wasn’t shy exactly. He was focused. He didn’t even notice me at first. I noticed him, though. He was cute and I quickly started trying discreetly to attract his attention.

It wasn’t easy. He usually had his nose buried in a book. I finally walked up to the bench he was sitting on one day and asked if I could join him. Even then he had to be drawn out. He was not an easy man to get to know.

I finally got tired of waiting for him to ask me out. After a week and a half of sitting together at lunch time I mentioned that the county fair was coming to town. It began to look like I was going to have to come right out and ask him to take me. But he finally took the hint and invited me to go to the fair with him. We were married six months later.

In those intervening six months we probably made love half a dozen times. So, when I was married eight years ago at the age of eighteen I had probably had sex a dozen times, and half of those times were with my fiancé.

Delon seems so much more worldly than I was at his age. I get the impression he’s more experienced and more knowledgeable about sex than I am now at the age of twenty-six. It’s more than a little disconcerting. My perceived comparative inexperience seemed to put me at an even greater disadvantage.

I had let my mind wander again. It made what I was doing more bearable. I wasn’t allowed to wander for long before he jerked me back to the present with his command to begin licking his cock.

The large knob at the tip and the top two inches of the shaft were covered with a thick coat of lubricant. I was terrified and disgusted. But at the same time, I can’t help being ... I hate to use the word impressed. Yet it’s impossible to deny that I found myself reacting to his obvious masculinity on a visceral level.

When I became aware of the reaction I’m having to his large, erect cock it disturbed me nearly as much as the things he’s making me do. I thought I was more highly evolved than that!

The closer I got, the more time I spent with his cock right in my face, the more impressive it was. I don’t want to be impressed. Unfortunately, something inside of me seemed to react to the combination of his oversized sex organs and his arrogance. Some primitive part of me that I have no control over is reacting to his youth, his strength, his virility, and his dominant nature.

I realize how I’m reacting and it infuriates me. I’m not some submissive, brainless little slut who can be led around by her vagina. I’m an independent, headstrong, self-aware, intelligent young woman who is offended by the objectification of my gender.

I don’t mean to give the impression I’m falling under the spell of his cock. I’m just as horrified now as I have been from the very beginning when Delon first told me what he has planned for me.

I am, however, self-aware enough to recognize that somewhere deep inside of me, my subconscious is reacting to this black bastard’s big cock. That sign of my own innate weakness makes me nearly as mad as his arrogance.

Those introspective thoughts spun around in my confused mind at light speed, probably as a subconscious attempt to distract myself, to take my mind off of what I’m doing with my tongue. It isn’t working. There isn’t as much as a fraction of a second when I’m not totally aware that my tongue is bathing the large, black cock of a sixteen-year-old boy.

It got worse when I reached the top half of his shaft and I began swallowing the slippery goo which is continuing to pour out of him at an amazing rate.

He watched until I finished cleaning his manhood before he said, “Alright. Let’s see how much of that thing you can take in your mouth. Give me your best blowjob.”

He watched for a few minutes as I sucked his cock the way I would have sucked my husband’s. He didn’t grab my head and try to force more of his cock into my mouth. He didn’t give me orders or criticize my hesitant style. He didn’t say a word until just before he reached his orgasm.

I knew we were nearing the moment of truth before he spoke. He started tensing up and I knew it was coming. His eyes are closed, his head lolling back against the sofa. He simply warned me in a breathless voice, “I’m going to cum now. Don’t spill a drop, bitch.”

That was when the fear really kicked in. I don’t think I can do this. I only once allowed a man to cum in my mouth and it had been awful. Sickening!

But I’m more afraid of this boy whose cock is about to start spraying semen in my mouth than I am of a mouthful of male fluids. He now has total control over me. I have to please him or suffer the consequences. So, I steeled myself for what’s about to happen and increased the speed of my hand moving up and down his cock, waiting, dreading the flood I know is about to take place. I just want this to be over with.

His body twitched violently several times and his breath caught loudly in his throat. He moaned and I felt his cock throb even more violently. I expected his cock to erupt like a hose in my mouth, spraying forcefully against my tonsils. But it was more like my mouth suddenly filled to the point of overflowing with warm, bitter liquid.

And I do mean full! There was so much of it!

I was in shock at first. But then I started to gag as the bitter taste overwhelmed my senses. His eyes opened and he watched my body convulse as I gagged uncontrollably. It took a moment for the seizures I was experiencing to pass but through it all I forced myself to remain in place.

My lips stayed glued to the groove below the knob. My hand continued to milk his shaft until he reached down, gripped it and held it in place. His body slowly relaxed back down onto the sofa cushion.

He stared into my eyes, enjoying the wide-ranging emotions he saw there. They all fed his ego. That I still have the head of his cock in my mouth and that mouthful of disgusting slime resting on my tongue demonstrated to both of us how much power he has over me. Even my disgust gave him more power!

He took a moment to catch his breath before he said, “Okay, bitch. Not good. In fact, that was downright pathetic. But to be honest I didn’t expect much from a prissy bitch like you. I think you have potential, though. At least you didn’t puke. I suppose I’ll be able to train you so that you can please me and entertain my friends without causing me too much embarrassment. Now sit up carefully. Don’t spill any of that. You need it to make your little tits grow.

When he made a similar comment earlier I wasn’t certain. But this time it’s obvious he’s being facetious. I’m not so concerned with whether he’s satisfied with the size of my breasts or whether he believes my tits will grow if I swallow enough cum. I’m more disturbed by his assertion that he believes I’ll soon be a good enough cocksucker to service his friends.

I carefully eased my mouth off of his cock and sat back on my heels. My mouth is still so full of his semen that my cheeks are bulging. He smiled at my obvious distress and said, “That’s right. Get used to it. Your world is going to revolve around that stuff from now on. Your main function in life is going to be draining cocks. My cock, my friend’s cocks, stranger’s cocks, all kinds of cocks.

“I’m willing to bet you don’t have any idea what your life is going to be like now. Before I go home this evening I’ll load a few of my favorite stories onto your computer for you. They’ll give you an idea of what turns me on; what your future will be like.”

He stared into my eyes for a moment, savoring the horror he saw there. He finally said, “Swallow.”

It was a struggle. That nasty stuff didn’t want to go down my throat. Or more accurately, my throat rebelled at the idea of swallowing it. I gagged a few more times. But I finally managed to get it all down.

It left a burning sensation in my throat. I felt like I had just swallowed poison or acid, some sort of caustic liquid. I likened it to swallowing drain cleaner.

The aftertaste was overpowering. I’m desperate to get up and rinse out my mouth and throat. But I didn’t even suggest it. I remained there on my knees, subservient, waiting for a teenage boy, a boy ten years my junior, to tell me what to do next.

His cock has receded a bit. But it never did get completely soft before we moved on to the next degrading act. He took a moment to relax and recover. His eyes scanned my body as if trying to memorize it. I noticed for the first time that he isn’t circumcised. That’s another first for me. I’ve never seen a cock with the foreskin still attached. It seemed to add to the overall effect of out-of-control virility the kid exudes.

Delon got to his feet. His cock was right in my face when he stood up. I leaned back to give him more room. He seemed to find my reaction comical. He inched closer and began running the head of his cock around my face. I heard the amusement in his voice when he said, “You might as well get used to it. You’re going to have a lot of cock in your face from now on. I wouldn’t want you to start liking it, though. It turns me the fuck on that you hate it so much.”

He ordered me to my feet and pointed to the floor on the other side of the coffee table. I moved to the spot he designated and waited for the next assault to begin.

He turned the movie camera off and moved it. He set it up closer to me and checked the aim before starting it again. In this position I’m even closer to the front window. I try to at least take comfort from the fact that it’s still morning on our quiet street. Most of the adults who live here are at work and the kids are still in school ... all but the one who’s raping me.

If anyone passed by on the sidewalk out front in the last few minutes they must not have noticed me in here, naked and being sexually assaulted by a black teenager. No one is standing out front staring in. I can only pray that my luck will continue to hold ... if this can be called luck.

Delon reached into the canvas bag he brought with him and pulled out a large digital camera. He’s already recording everything on a movie camera. Until he pulled that camera out, I would have thought that having him take still pictures would be just one more indignity, hardly worth mentioning. But I didn’t react that way. It makes no sense, I know. But the feeling I have of losing control increased exponentially when he lifted the camera to his face and started taking high resolution digital photographs of my naked body.

At first, he just moved around me, snapping pictures of my body from all angles. But soon he began ordering me into increasingly obscene poses. First with such poses as cupping my breasts and offering them up to the camera. Then pinching and pulling my nipples, sometimes into what struck me as grotesquely disfiguring shapes.

His focus then shifted to my pubic area. I was forced to spread my legs obscenely and then hold my sex open for the camera. He took dozens and dozens of humiliating close-ups. I comforted myself with the thought that at least in those close-ups my face can’t be seen. But it isn’t a lot of comfort because most of the photographs he’s taking left no doubt as to my identity.

He put me back into the obscene pose he found so amusing earlier, bent over with my legs spread wide, displaying my anus and my sex and making sure that my face is visible between my legs so if anyone who knows me sees these obscene pictures they’ll be able to recognize me.

He ordered me into a recliner and made me put my feet up on the arms of the chair. He took a few more pictures and then ordered me to play with my pussy as if I were masturbating. It was a purely physical act. I felt nothing as I rubbed my mound and teased my clit, even inserting one and then two fingers into my vagina in response to more of his degrading commands.

He ordered me to lick and suck my fingers clean and took half a dozen extreme close-ups of my wet fingers entering my mouth.

The last few pictures were the worst. He put me back on my knees and made me suck on his cock which has gotten hard again while he was taking all those dirty pictures. I was forced to look up at the camera while he took pictures of my face with his big, black cock buried in my mouth or just resting on my face.

Altogether he must have taken close to a hundred photographs. I’m dying to ask him what he’s going to do with them. But even if I thought he’d tell me the truth, and I don’t, I’m certain I don’t want to know the answer.

I watched him putting his still camera back in the bag and I was just about to sigh with relief when I got a huge shock. I looked up and saw my mailman standing in the grass out front. He’s staring in my window, obviously just as shocked as I am.

Oh my god! How long has he been standing there?! What has he seen me do?!

A small scream escaped my lips and Delon looked up to see what caused it. He followed my gaze and saw the mailman out front. He grinned, not the least bit bothered that someone is witnessing my shame. He moved around behind me and grabbed my breasts, pointing them at the mailman as if they were weapons.

The mailman finally seemed to come to his senses. He shook his head and finished crossing my lawn. I listened as he put my mail in the box. There was a pause and then he rang the bell.

Delon propelled me toward the door. He stood behind me and forced one of my hands to grip and hold his hard cock. He stood behind the door as I opened it several inches to see what the mailman wants.

He stood there, tongue tied for a moment before clearing his throat and asking, “Mrs. Causey ... are you ... is everything alright?!”

Delon wouldn’t settle for that. He wouldn’t permit me even the small comfort of hiding behind the door. Without showing himself, he edged the door open further leaving me totally exposed to my mailman.