Chapter 3

It was obvious that he had a pretty good idea what was going through my mind. He grinned and suggested, “Why don’t we relax for a while and watch a movie. I need time to recuperate.”

We returned to the front room. I stood looking nervously out the window feeling more than naked while he put a disk into our DVD player. I was not pleased when I realized what “movie” we were going to watch. I was about to relive the most traumatic morning of my life.

Delon sat down on the end of the sofa. I wanted desperately to offer him a towel to sit on. But I didn’t dare. He’s cruel enough without taking the chance of saying something that he might take the wrong way. I don’t want to piss him off. He ordered me to stretch out on the sofa, rest my head in his lap and get comfortable. Somehow I didn’t see that happening, at least not the part about getting comfortable.

He guided my head so that his cock was right in my face. His hand came to rest on my breast. With his free hand he operated the remote controls. The television came on and there I was. I was still dressed. I looked mad and confused and petrified with fear.

I was forced to hold his soft cock in my mouth while we watched him torment me and then order me to undress. It was nearly as awful reliving it as it was going through it the first time. Watching and listening to the DVD there was no question that I was being blackmailed, that I was doing those things against my will. Even if the sound had been turned off it was clear to see from the expression on my face that I was being coerced. It was even obvious in my posture. No one watching this movie would think I was submitting to him willingly.

And if the look on my face wasn’t proof enough he could be heard giving me ultimatums, threatening me, leaving me no choice but to obey his warped commands. That was disturbing in itself because his words made it obvious that I have something terrible to hide.

I felt physically ill watching it happen all over again. By contrast, watching the DVD was nearly as exciting for Delon as living it had been. His cock quickly began to swell and fill my mouth as we revisited the events that took place in my living room this morning.

He ordered me to suck gently on his cock but not to make him cum.

That wasn’t a problem for me. The last thing I want is to have him fill my mouth with cum again. He also ordered me to keep watching the television. He wanted me to see just how fucked I really am.

And I am. If my husband should see this, if anyone I know should see this, my life will be over. But it wasn’t the DVD that he held over my head. Or at least it wasn’t this one. This was just evidence of how far down into the depths of depravity I’m willing to go to hide what I did Saturday night and how easily I can be intimidated.

Delon fast forwarded the DVD whenever it got too repetitious. But he always slowed down for the worst parts. There were far too many worst parts.

By the time we finished watching the first DVD, Delon had to take his cock out of my mouth every few minutes and let it rest on my cheek. He was getting too excited. I had mixed emotions about that. I don’t want another mouth full of his bitter cum. But there remains one orifice he hasn’t yet explored and I have no desire to change that. I’ve never experienced anal sex. It isn’t something I would have even considered allowing someone to do to me. The humiliation of allowing my body to be abused that way is bad enough. But I’ve heard terrible things about how much it can hurt and I’m scared.

The DVD finally ended. Delon turned off the television and the DVD player and said, “Let’s go back upstairs.”

He followed me to my bedroom. The camera was back on the tripod, aimed and ready.

Delon arranged me the way he wanted me on the foot of the bed. My knees were on the edge and I was facing the other side of the bed. The camera had been moved to the foot of the bed, slightly behind me so that it could catch all the disgusting action.

Tears of fear and despair began to run down my cheeks as I knelt submissively, waiting for the next painful rape to begin. It’s bad enough that I’m forced to turn over control of my body, no, it’s worse than that; I’m turning over control of my life to this boy. I’m a person who has always been in control, except when I drank of course.

I almost jumped out of my skin when he finally touched me. He pried my nether cheeks apart with one hand and I felt his large finger begin to probe my orifice. It was covered with a cold, slick lubricant. I was glad for the lubrication. But I remained terrified.

The tip of his finger entered me. I told myself that it wasn’t too bad. It wasn’t. Not yet. He moved his large finger around slowly while his other hand released the cheek of my ass and moved under me to begin teasing my pussy.

If he thought he was going to turn me on he was sadly mistaken. But I doubt if that was his intent. I’m pretty certain he was doing it to amuse himself, not to excite me.

He worked his finger in and out of my ass for a minute or two. It was bearable. But his finger is nowhere near as large as his cock. I was still terrified.

He took both of his hands away after several minutes. But not for very long. There was only a brief pause before his hands returned and he repeated the process, with two fingers this time.

It was incredibly embarrassing. No one has ever touched me there before. No one before Delon, except for my doctor, ever saw that part of my body. Not since I was an infant. But still it’s the fear of pain that’s I’m focusing on as I kneel there like a sacrificial lamb and allow him to perform any degrading act with my body that amuses him.

It was slightly more uncomfortable when he began to stretch me out with two fingers. But my body adjusted after a couple of minutes. I even stopped panting in fear and my breathing returned to almost normal.

It was a whole other matter when after a brief pause he began to repeat the process with three large fingers. It was painful then. Perhaps not as bad as I feared, but painful nonetheless and it remained painful throughout the process.

He had worked in silence until then. But as he attacked me with three fingers he began to talk quietly. He told me that if I relax and let it happen it won’t be so bad. He added with a cruel, taunting sneer evident in his voice that he doesn’t care either way. He’s going to fuck my ass and hurting me is just an added bonus.

His words did nothing to reassure me or calm my fears.

There was a last brief respite while he applied more of the lubricant to his hard cock and then I felt the head of his too large organ pressing against my rear opening. He began to slowly apply more pressure. As he did he said, “I’ve wanted to try this for a long time. Most girls won’t let a guy fuck their ass. It’s so nice of you to be so understanding, Brooke. I really appreciate this.”

I ignored his sarcasm. Responding would do nothing to improve my situation. He was slowly applying more and more pressure against my opening until finally my muscles could resist no longer and the fat knob popped inside of me with a surprising amount of force.

I cried out in pain and attempted to scramble away crying, “TAKE IT OUT! I CAN’T DO THIS! OH GOD! IT HURTS!”

He reached up and grabbed a handful of my hair with one hand. His other hand slapped my ass so hard that for a moment I was distracted from the pain his cock was causing me.

He snarled, “Hold still, bitch! You can cry and beg all you want. I kind of like the sound of it. But don’t you move!”

He groaned then and exclaimed, “Jesus your ass is tight! That’s why it hurts so bad, stupid. Relax! You’re all tensed up. If you relax it won’t be so bad. Push back like you’re trying to go to the bathroom. Christ! Your ass is trying to cut my cock in half!”

I had to try. It hurt too badly not to. I followed his humiliating instruction and forced my muscles to unclench. I tried pushing back as if I was attempting to expel him and it did help a little. It also allowed him to slide another two or three inches of his fat, iron hard cock into me.

I was crying loudly now. But I remained in position and did what I could to make the horrible assault bearable. I continued to push back and he continued to work more of his cock into me.

You might think that my ass would have given up and adjusted by the time he had his cock halfway in. But each additional inch hurt that much more and the last two inches hurt most of all. It felt like his cock had hit a barrier inside of me. Each stroke was like a punch in the guts. I was terrified that he was going to tear something inside of me.

The pain never went away. Not completely. But eventually I started to get numb. Or at least numb enough that I could begin to breathe again. I spent the entire blessedly short time reminding myself to stop tensing up and try to relax. It helped only slightly.

The experience must have been everything he imagined it would be. He quickly began to pick up the pace and fuck me forcefully. I don’t think the excruciatingly painful experience lasted five minutes from the time he finally buried his cock all the way in my ass. He fucked me violently at the end. But by then my mind was becoming numb if not my body.

I just remained in position and chanted quietly to myself, “Unclench. Unclench.” over and over until he began to fill my ass with semen.

He didn’t pull his cock out of me after he came. He remained behind me with his cock buried to the hilt in my opening until his cock was soft and my muscles expelled it. He slid his soft cock through the crevice between my cheeks for a moment and said, “Don’t worry, bitch. It gets a little easier each time. At least that’s what I’ve heard. I don’t really care. It didn’t hurt me.”

He stayed right where he was, right in front of the camera. His cock was resting in the crack of my ass. I waited for him to step back or to allow me to move. I felt like I had to go to the bathroom but I was afraid to ask for permission.

Probably a minute passed before he asked, “Am I going to have to punish you?”

“For what?! What did I do?!”

“You aren’t too bright, are you? What did I tell you your job was?”

For a long moment I had no idea what he was talking about. At last I remembered what he told me I have to do after he fucks me and I gasped in shock. Surely he doesn’t expect me to do that after where his cock has just been!

I stuttered, “But ... but...”

He laughed and said, “Yeah. It was in your butt. That’s why it needs to be cleaned.”

I looked back over my shoulder at him and saw that he was serious. I slowly turned around and looked down at his flaccid cock. It was smelly and covered with grease. There were a few streaks of what might have been cum on it. I didn’t see what I most feared seeing there. Most of the mess was from the lubricant he used. But still ... how could he even think of making me do what he was demanding of me now?!

I did the only thing I could do. I took a deep breath, bent down and took his slimy cock into my mouth. In its flaccid state it was still more than six inches long and uncomfortably fat. But much to my dismay I seem to be getting used to it already. I quickly sucked it clean, even sliding back the foreskin and licking the head clean without having to be reminded. I held it up out of the way and licked his slime covered balls clean. When his crotch was as clean as I could get it with my tongue I asked for and received permission to use the bathroom. That I had to ask to use the bathroom only humiliated me more.

I ran into the master bath and sat on the toilet. I expected to hear his semen draining out of me for several minutes. Only one small dollop escaped from my body. I used the toilet to relieve myself and then dampened a washcloth and cleaned myself up.

I brushed my teeth again. Once the taste of that pervert’s brand of nasty sex was gone from my mouth I returned to the bedroom. Delon was stretched out on my husband’s side of the bed. For some reason it really bothers me to see his head resting on my husband’s pillow. But of course I didn’t say anything.

When I entered the room he sat up and said, “Take me to your computer.”

He grabbed some things out of his canvas bag and followed me to the small spare bedroom we converted to a home office. He sat down in front of the computer. I winced when he sat down on that expensive chair, biting my tongue to keep from suggesting that he sit on a towel or put something on.

He pulled me down into his lap and his hands returned to my body after turning on the computer. He concentrated on tormenting one of my nipples while the computer booted up.

Just before it was ready he asked me, “What do you suppose your husband will say when I get these pierced?”

That’s the second time he has mentioned piercing my nipples. Can he be serious?!

I’m pretty certain that my husband would have a fit. But the more immediate problem for me is that I can’t even conceive of doing such a horrible thing to my nipples! Even if I survive the pain, and I suppose I would. Most of the women who have it done seem to survive intact. Even if I survive the pain I can’t even imagine having jewelry in my nipples. I’m not that kind of girl!

Delon reached around me, opened up my browser and typed in the address of a website. He signed in and told my computer to remember his username and password. He began opening and closing some of the most horrible pictures I’ve ever seen. Most of them involved white women being fucked by black men, usually two or three or even far more black men.

Some, but very damned few of the women were obviously enjoying themselves. Others, the overwhelming majority, seemed terrified. I couldn’t tell if it was an act or not. Their expressions and their tears appeared to be genuine.

Delon explained that men, and some women, posted amateur pictures of interracial sex on the site. Then he turned my blood cold when he informed me that he will be posting some of my pictures there.

I shook my head and groaned. But I didn’t bother to try to talk sense to him. I knew it would do no good. For a moment I contemplated again what life in prison might be like. I had a small taste of it when I was arrested after my first hit and run. As horrible as this little pervert is I learned from my brief period of incarceration that the alternative is still worse.

Delon put one of the disks he brought with him into my computer and opened it. It contained hundreds of stories. From the titles it was apparent that most, if not all of them, are about interracial sex. They all seemed to share another theme as well. Judging by the titles the white woman in those stories are all being raped, coerced, blackmailed, tortured, anything but entering into a loving relationship of their own volition.

Delon has amassed quite a collection and I realize now where he’s getting his ideas for the things he’s doing to me. And I know now that I can’t expect any mercy from him. I’m making his dirtiest dreams; his most perverse fantasies come true. He’s turned on by the horrible themes of those stories or he wouldn’t have collected them. And now he has me to bring those disgusting stories to life.

As I sat there in his lap reading the titles of the stories on the disk he told me that he wants me to read one or two stories every night before I go to bed. I’m to be prepared to recap the story and then tell him how I felt about it the next day. He wants me to imagine that I’m the female being raped or blackmailed in the story and forced to submit to humiliating sexual abuse. He didn’t say it that way. He was much cruder. But that was what he was demanding.

He copied the stories onto my hard drive and removed the disk from the computer.

He replaced it with a second disk. It took several minutes for the computer to read the contents of the second disk. When he finally opened it I saw thousands of thumbnails of photographs that would seem to perfectly illustrate the stories he’s providing for me.

He opened up a few dozen photographs, apparently at random. There were pictures of women of all ages in severe bondage and/or being raped by huge men. That was bad enough. But there were other pictures that made me physically ill. There were several pictures of women having sex with animals.

After examining a photograph of a woman performing oral sex on a large dog and commenting on it in far too much detail he moved on to a photograph that reminded me of what he said earlier about a game called urinal. A man with an incredibly large, black cock was urinating into the mouth of a kneeling white woman whose arms were tied behind her back.

It quickly became apparent that just like the stories, all of the men in the pictures were black and all of the women and girls were white. The kid obviously has a hang-up. And he accused me of being a racist!

In the next picture a woman, a girl really, she couldn’t have been older than sixteen, was lying in a filthy aluminum trough in what was obviously a very nasty men’s restroom. Her hands and feet were tied to pipes and men were lined up to pee all up and down her body.

There was an entire series of pictures of that girl. As many as two dozen men must have emptied their bladders on that poor girl with the desperate look on her terrified face. There was no question in my mind that she wasn’t there of her own free will!

I felt a sinking feeling as it became clear that Delon wasn’t kidding about playing urinal. He didn’t save those pictures because they bore him. This is something that excites his sick mind!

After exploring a random sampling of the contents of the second disk he copied the pictures to my hard drive. While the pictures were being copied he said, “Look at a dozen pictures before you read the stories at night, and a dozen more afterwards. Don’t just glance at them. Spend some time looking at each picture. Imagine that you’re the woman in the picture. The pictures should give you an idea of what you have to look forward to from now on.”

My first thought was that I’d be better off dead. Then it occurred to me that he would have no way of knowing what I read or what I look at.

Before I could take a whole lot of comfort from that thought he picked something up off the floor beside him. He held it up and said, “This is a webcam. You’ll have this turned on whenever you’re in this room. I’ll show you how to use it.”

He installed the camera and placed it on the printer stand beside the chair. In that position the camera has a perfect view of me. It also has a view of the computer screen.

He turned it on and adjusted it. I was shocked at how clear the picture is. I thought those things took grainy, choppy, black and white pictures judging by some of the things I’ve seen posted on YouTube. The picture I was looking at was very crisp and clean. It was nearly as clear a picture as you might get with a movie camera.

He showed me how to activate the camera, open a chat room, invite him in and broadcast the picture. He made me go through it a couple of times to make certain I knew what to do. When he was satisfied he looked at the time and said, “I think we have time for another blowjob before your husband gets home.”

I glanced at the time and thought, “Not really!”

But I followed him back into the bedroom like an obedient little slave girl. I bit my tongue while he stretched out on my husband’s side of the bed and rested his head on my husband’s pillow. I got up on the bed on my knees and began that horrible process once again.

I worked quickly for fear that Doug would come home and find me like this. I need to get this kid off for the fourth time today and get him out of my house so that I can change the sheets and get cleaned up.

Delon may be a teenager and have remarkable powers of recuperation. But he’s very jaded and he has a warped mind. He has also, as I mentioned, enjoyed a lot of sex today. I did my best. I did everything he wanted me to do. I licked and I sucked. I even tried my best to take his cock down my throat with no prodding from him. But it still took me more than twenty minutes to bring him to orgasm.

Relief swept over me when another small load of cum spurted into my mouth. I swallowed instantly and glanced at the clock on my nightstand.

Time was running out!

He stood up and watched while I made the bed for the third time today using the soiled, sex-stained linens. When I finished he warned me once more that they had better be on the bed when he returns.

I don’t know when he plans to return. I won’t be home alone very often after today. I commute back and forth to work with my husband. Even if I could come up with some excuse to drive my car, it will, of necessity, be staying in the garage for the foreseeable future. It could be months before it’s repaired.

But I’ve noticed that he seems to think of everything and suddenly I trusted this devious bastard to find a way. I was beginning to have second thoughts about defying him and changing the sheets.

We went downstairs and I quickly straightened up the living room and put my skirt and blouse on while Delon got dressed. He didn’t seem to be in a hurry and time was rapidly running out. I was getting desperate to get him out of there!

And then my heart leapt into my throat. I heard the outer garage door opening. Doug is home!

I tried to get Delon to sneak out the front door before Doug came in from the garage. He calmly looked around and instead of leaving he went to the pantry and stepped inside with his canvas bag. I nearly started crying with fear and frustration.

The pantry door is louvered. He can see out. But as long as the light in the pantry is off and the door closed we can’t see in. I was definitely not reassured! What if he sneezes? Or what if Doug decides he needs something from the pantry?

Oh god! I think I’m going to die tonight! If Doug doesn’t kill me my heart is going to explode from the fear and the stress.

It wasn’t until Doug came into the kitchen from the garage that I remembered the fragile state of our relationship at the moment. I didn’t offer to kiss him and he didn’t give any indication that he wasn’t still furious with me. He keeps his emotions in check and it can be difficult to tell when he’s angry.