Chapter 4

I went to the desk and turned on the computer. It took a few minutes to boot up. I sat down and reviewed the process for activating the camera in my mind while I was waiting.

I activated the camera software when the computer was ready and I invited Delon to join me in a chat room so that he could view it. He accepted, of course, and joined me online. His online name is, appropriately enough, Satyr. There’s even a small picture of a leering satyr beside his name.

As soon as he came into the chat room he typed out, “I’ve decided to make you do this in the nude. When I give you the order I want you to stand up, face the camera, and take off your clothes.”

That would have been bad enough. But after he told me what he wants me to do I watched in dismay while he invited five more people into the chat room to witness my shame!

They came online one at a time. I had to assume that they already knew what was going on. No one had any questions. The first one called himself Wolfenstein. The name was familiar but I couldn’t say from where. The picture beside his name was of a snarling wolf.

I sensed a theme when the next boy, I assume these are all boys, joined us. His name was Viper and the picture he used was of a fierce looking cobra, coiled and ready to strike with fangs bared.

The third boy to join us called himself Black Mamba. The picture beside his name was, I assume, a black mamba. I wouldn’t want him to know, but it didn’t look that threatening. I know they can be lethal but it was actually kind of cute.

I was a bit confused at first when the fourth boy joined us. His name was C ... Lapper. I didn’t have a clue what that meant until I looked closer at the picture beside his name. It wasn’t a ferocious animal. It was the back of a black man’s head between two white thighs. Then I understood.

The last boy to be invited to join was the only one with an innocuous name and tame picture. His name was Tripod and the picture beside his name was just that. He seemed out of place among the others. I pictured a gangly, geeky, far less threatening kid in my mind.

I was just wondering if these boys were all black and if they were all local when Delon ordered me to stand where the camera could see me and undress.

It wasn’t easy. But it had to be easier than doing it while in the same room with them. At least here, alone in my computer room, there are no groping male hands to contend with. There was no immediate threat of rape. I couldn’t see their lusting faces, only the lens of the camera.

I was still wearing what little I had on when Doug came home, a blouse and skirt. It didn’t take much time to remove them.

When I was naked I started to return to my seat. But before I could sit down I noticed more instructions on the screen from Delon. I blanched as I read them. But I didn’t dare refuse. I tried not to think about the six sets of teenage eyes staring intently as I turned around and bent over for a moment. Following Delon’s instructions I spread the cheeks of my ass apart and held them like that. Finally I stood up, turned around and spread my pussy open, all the while adjusting my position so that the parts of my body they wanted to see were in the center of the screen.

I was able to see everything they could see on my monitor. That fucking camera provided far too much detail!

While I was returning to my seat, Delon was adding another humiliating twist to my instructions. He ordered me to masturbate while I looked at the pictures. If he thinks I’m going to reach orgasm while he and his five friends watch me masturbate while looking at obscene pictures he’s crazier than I thought. But I have no choice but to go through the motions. We both know I’m going to do what he wants for the foreseeable future, if not to keep my own ass out of prison then certainly to protect my husband’s business.

I opened up the file in which he placed all the obscene photographs this afternoon and double clicked on the first dirty picture. I found myself looking at a photograph of a reasonably attractive blonde on her hands and knees. Two beefy men with strikingly large cocks were posing with her. One man was fucking her from behind while she was sucking the other man’s cock.

I sat back in my chair and stared at the picture. I began rubbing my pussy listlessly. I tried to imagine that I was the girl in the photograph. Not so much because those were Delon’s instructions but because I’m reasonably certain that someday soon I’ll be in that situation. I have every faith that Delon will see to it.

I tried to picture myself with Delon and perhaps his friend, Viper. It certainly didn’t turn me on. It terrified me. It disgusted me. But as hard as I tried I couldn’t imagine what it would be like to be in such a humiliating position.

I left the first picture on the monitor for several minutes before I moved on to the next. He hadn’t told me how long to leave each picture up there. Apparently I left it up long enough to satisfy him. He didn’t say anything when I changed it.

He didn’t say anything to me, that is. All six boys were obviously enjoying the show. Among themselves they were discussing my body and what they want to do to it in the grossest terms while I sat there and played with myself.

By the time I had viewed all twelve pictures more than an hour had passed since I entered the room. I heard Doug walk by after his shower. He paused in the hallway on his way to the guest bedroom but then continued on without a word. After that it was just me and the six boys.

Most of the pictures were variations on the theme. All the men in the pictures were black and all the women were white. None of these first pictures went to the extremes that he demonstrated to me earlier when he loaded them onto my computer. There were no animals and no one got pissed on. Even without those perversions the pictures were still hard to stomach.

In one photograph the woman they were victimizing had three cocks inside of her at the same time. In another the woman’s face was completely covered with a thick, gooey coating of cum. In the background I could see that there were a large number of black men standing there holding their, in most cases, very large cocks. I couldn’t count them but it must have been a large number judging by the amount of disgusting gunk on her face.

At the end of the hour my pussy was numb and my hand was tired. But I was not aroused in the least. My vagina was dry as a desert.

I closed my picture viewer and opened up the first story. It was a story about a young, white schoolteacher who is assaulted and enslaved by a black student in her class and a bunch of his friends. It was sophomoric and from almost the very beginning it was incredibly depraved. But the two things that disturbed me most were the understanding that Delon is excited by this crap and the knowledge that he can and probably will do all of those perverse, degrading things to me before very long.

The first story was very long. I read as quickly as I could but I’d be up all night if I kept reading until I finished it. I finally told Delon that I was only halfway through the story but I’m tired and I need to go to bed. This has been a very tiring day for me as he well knows.

His friends found that amusing. I guess they weren’t tired of staring at my naked body yet but Delon relented and ordered me to finish the story tomorrow night.

Before he logged off he reminded me that he only has half a day of school tomorrow. He wants me at his house as soon as I come home from work.

I told him I’d be there. What else could I say? I logged off and marked my place in the story. It was so late that they didn’t make me look at twelve more pictures. I was glad of that. But the story was more than disgusting enough to make up for it.

A wave of relief washed over me when I shut down the computer. As soon as the computer was turned off I felt as though I had closed a portal into an evil dimension. I felt as if Doug and I were once more alone in our home.

I went to our bedroom and threw my skirt and blouse in the laundry. I took a quick shower and put on a t-shirt and clean underwear. I was at least clean on the outside when I joined Doug in the guest room. He was sitting up in bed reading.

We’ve never slept in our spare bedroom. I asked him if the bed is comfortable. He shrugged and answered, “I’ve slept on worse. At least the sheets are clean.”

He didn’t mean to rub it in. I could see that he regretted saying what he just said. He hadn’t really meant it to sound so reproving. But whether he meant it that way or not I certainly deserved it.

The reminder of why we’re sleeping in here caused me to blush again. It was driven home once more that we’re here because our sheets are stained with the bodily fluids deposited there by the boy who lives across the street while he was happily and repeatedly raping me today.

I thought for a moment that this has undoubtedly been the worst day of my life. But I knew that it wasn’t. As horrible as the things that happened to me today are, the two days I spent in jail after my first hit and run accident were much worse.

I very nearly lost my mind in those two horrible days. If you haven’t been locked up like that, and you aren’t claustrophobic, then there’s no way to adequately describe, no way to make you understand the feeling of panic that grabs you and begins to crush you when it happens.

I’m certain that nine hundred and ninety-nine people out of a thousand would think I was crazy. No woman in her right mind would choose being raped over spending time in prison. But any woman who experienced being thrown into a small cell and forced to deal with the total, unreasonable panic of claustrophobia, the feeling that you can’t breathe because there is no more oxygen in the world, the unreasonable but undeniable feeling that you will die soon without ever seeing the outside world again, no woman who experiences incarceration the way I did would choose being locked up over being raped.

Reason doesn’t even enter into the equation. I know it’s unreasonable. But it’s real. Or at least it’s real to me.

I crawled into bed with Doug and a sigh of relief escaped from me when he turned and pulled me gently into his arms and held me close. I understand that he’s still upset with me. But if he hadn’t held me then I couldn’t have stood it. I needed him to reassure me that there’s a chance for us.

He didn’t speak right away. He held me close and lightly kissed the back of my neck. He held me for a little while and then, as if he could read my mind he whispered, “We’ll get through this.”

I wasn’t certain he was right about that. But I needed to hear it.

We went to sleep that way. I must have been more exhausted than I realized. Doug was already up and dressed when I awoke the next morning. I could smell the wonderful aroma of hot coffee drifting up from the kitchen. I struggled out of bed and headed for our bedroom.

I didn’t even get out of the room before I turned back to make the bed. I knew I couldn’t trust that son of a bitch not to show up and check our sheets before we left for work. It turned out not to be necessary. But he’s that devious.

I needed to take another shower. I couldn’t seem to wake up. I rinsed off and then got dressed and ready for work. I couldn’t help worrying about what’s going to happen to me after we come home from work. I tried to dress for work normally and not imagine what will happen when I go to Delon’s house after work.

I couldn’t. He intruded on my day from the moment I awoke in the guest room this morning. Now as I dressed for work I was making more changes in my life to satisfy his demands. I didn’t wear a bra or pantyhose because he ordered me not to. I wore panties and I put on one of the outfits that I normally wear when I go to work. But I was incredibly conscious of the alterations in the way I dress now and the fact that they were ordered by a sixteen-year-old boy. Even after eight years of marriage I don’t let Doug tell me what to wear. Now the little bastard across the street can make me leave the house naked if he wants to. I may not get far. But I know that if he ordered me to I’d do it to protect my husband from getting in trouble.

I finally went downstairs and sat in the kitchen to join Doug for a cup of coffee. He did a double take when he saw me. I didn’t think it was that obvious that I wasn’t wearing a bra. But he noticed.

I was grateful that he didn’t say anything about the way I was dressed. I didn’t want to have to think about it. I wondered, though, if the people I work with will notice so easily. And then I remembered Delon’s threat of future changes. He made it clear that he’s going to change the way I dress. After today he’ll be going to go to work with us. There’s no doubt in my mind that he’ll take advantage of every opportunity to humiliate me at work.

I wanted to scream about how unfair it all was. But then I thought about the poor innocent woman I hit with the car. My memories of much of what happened that night are foggy. I was very drunk. But I can still see her face just before I struck her. I can probably recite the list of injuries she suffered from the article in the Sunday paper. The truth is that I can’t honestly say I don’t deserve what’s happening to me.

Doug doesn’t deserve this, though. Doug is more of a victim here than I am. He, too, is at Delon’s mercy. Not because of anything he did. He’s at risk because of my irresponsible behavior. And I did each of those awful things against his wishes. He tried but he had been unable to control my actions.

With tears in my eyes I looked across the table and said once more, “I’m sorry, Doug. You don’t deserve this. I do. But you’ve always tried to do what’s right. I got you into this. I wish there were some way I could make it up to you.”

He reached across the table and squeezed my hand. He said, “I know, baby. I only want one thing from you. I want you to be strong. You’ll have to put up with a lot of shit until we can find a way to fix this. Just hold on until that happens. My biggest worry is that you’ll lose it and ... well, you know, do something desperate that makes things worse. I know this is going to be just about impossible for you. But you’re going to have to be strong and not let him destroy your mind. Don’t let him break you.”

“I’ll try. But I wish you weren’t involved in this. It isn’t fair.”

He grinned that lopsided grin that usually precedes one of his stupid jokes that always makes me smile no matter how upset I am. But at the last moment I saw him change his mind. It must have been pretty bad if he didn’t have the nerve to say it. But I’m glad his mind works that way. I’m glad he’s able to find some bit of wry humor to relieve the stress of an untenable situation. I think that I’m probably also glad that he chose not to say what he was thinking. I’m not in the mood to be cheered up.

My mood darkened even more when we went out to the garage to leave for the plant. I couldn’t avoid looking at the damage to my car, the evidence of my crime. Just walking past the car was an accusation. It dropped a pall over both of us as we got into Doug’s car and backed out of the garage.

Doug backed into the street and headed for the plant. To put an even bigger damper on our emotions, Delon was just leaving his house as we drove by. He looked up and waved at us as if we’re the best of friends. The smile on his face made you want to put a bullet between his eyes.

Doug reached over and held my hand. Neither of us spoke. I’m pretty certain we were both thinking about the terrible things I’m going to have to do when we come home this evening and I go across the street so that he can rape and humiliate me again.

The day passed far too quickly. Despite being preoccupied I managed to get caught up on the work I didn’t do yesterday. But I spent far too much time looking around my small office and wondering what terrible things are going to happen to me in here tomorrow. And I wondered how many of the people who work for us will find out tomorrow that their boss is allowing a teenage boy to rule her life and humiliate her for his own amusement. He doesn’t seem to have many limits. Hell! He doesn’t seem to have any limits! I can’t help dreading tomorrow and worrying how far he’ll push it here at the office?

I imagined all sorts of horrible things happening here tomorrow. But I feared that my imaginings are inadequate. It has been made abundantly clear to me that Delon has a much dirtier mind than I do and he enjoys humiliating me as much as he enjoys raping me, or nearly as much.

Every time I looked into a co-worker’s eyes I thought about tomorrow and wondered if they would be seeing me in an entirely different light by the end of the workday.

I had trouble concentrating all day long. Between the dread I felt at having to go to Delon’s house after work this evening and the fear of what will happen tomorrow when I’ll be forced to bring him in and announce that I’m taking him on in the totally bogus position of my assistant I didn’t know which is more terrifying.

Now that I think about it, I think that I’m actually more worried about what will happen here at the office tomorrow. Delon couldn’t care less if he totally destroys me. I’m nothing more than a sexy toy to him. And it’s obvious from the stories and pictures he put on my computer last night just how much he enjoys the idea of humiliating and degrading white women.

Now he actually has his very own white woman on whom he can inflict all those horrible perversions he enjoys reading about on the internet. I have a feeling that before very long I may be faced once more with deciding between turning myself in and letting Delon ruin my life.

Doug came to my office at quitting time. As usual, we didn’t leave until after everyone else had gone home for the night. The only ones left in the plant were maintenance people and cleaning crews that come on duty at quitting time.

He looked around my small office and said, “There isn’t room in here for another desk. I guess we’re going to have to find some other place for your office.”

Except for my office and another slightly larger outer office that has been set aside for the two women who do all the typing, answer the phones and act as receptionists, and another small office down the hall where our two salesmen work, all of the other space in our two buildings is devoted to the manufacturing process where the actual work is done.

Doug has a desk in a corner at the far end of the work floor of the second of the two buildings. He rarely uses it. It’s been shoved up against the dividing wall between the work floor and the shipping area so that it’s out of the way. Doug usually spends his days going around the plant straightening out problems and checking on quality control.

It hasn’t been that long since we were forced to add the second building and already we’re at the point of needing to add on again. But that can’t happen until we’re a lot farther into the black than we are now.

I shrugged and said, “There isn’t another place. You don’t suppose he’ll quit because he doesn’t care for the accommodations do you?”

Doug didn’t bother to answer.

We went out to the nearly empty parking lot. Before I got in the car, Doug took me in his arms and said, “I feel like such a loser. I never imagined that I’d stand back and let someone rape my wife without even putting up a fight. I wish that you’d let me put a stop to this.”

I hugged him with all my might and said, “I wish that, too. But as horrible as this situation is, I know I will die if they put me in jail. I almost didn’t survive those two days I spent locked up. You saw me. I went crazy. I actually thought about killing myself. I don’t know what else to do but to let him play his games and hope he gets bored. The only other options are killing me or him. Going to prison isn’t an option for me.”

I suspect that he thought the other two options I mentioned were just hyperbole. I was being deadly serious. If this situation becomes more than I can bear I’ll take his life or mine, or both, before I consider turning myself in.

If you have never suffered from a phobia you probably don’t understand how an unreasonable fear can affect you. It can be completely paralyzing. No amount of logic, no rationalization can have an effect on it. After only two days in jail I had been ready to slit my wrists. I would have tried if I were given access to a sharp object. A phobia can be that debilitating.

The ride home took the usual twenty minutes. But it passed in an instant. Doug parked in the garage and we got out of the car. He looked over at my damaged car and said, “I’m going to have to buy a car cover for that. It bothers me every time I see it.”

We went into the kitchen. I put my purse on the table and said, “I’m sorry, Doug. There’s nothing else I can do. I have to go over there.”

He kissed me and said, “I know. I understand. But if it gets too intense I’ll be waiting by the phone.”

I sighed and turned away. It was already too intense. But I went to the front door on shaking legs and stepped outside. A few of my neighbors were out here and there up and down the street. No one paid any attention to me as I crossed the street and climbed the steps to Delon’s front porch. He has a wide porch that goes all the way across the front of the house and down one side. I’ve always wished for a nice porch just like it for my house. I’ve never seen them use it but it seems like such a nice place to sit in the evening, especially in the spring and fall on a cool, pleasant day.

I stood at his front door in the little bit of privacy that his porch provides for what seemed like a very long time. I found myself unable to ring the bell. I turned and looked around as if I might find something out there on the street that could change my future ... or my past. I desperately didn’t want to do what I was about to do.

I finally did the only thing that I could do. I turned back around, took a deep breath, steeled my nerves and rang the doorbell.

I didn’t have long to wait. Delon opened the door almost immediately. He turned around dismissively as if I were just there to clean the house. As he walked away from the door he said, “Come in and shut the door. Come on, let’s go.”

Delon and his father live alone. I know almost nothing about them. I don’t know if his mother is still alive or, come to think of it, if Delon is actually Mr. Brown’s son.

Mr. Brown works rotating shifts at the local hospital. Since he lives in our very middleclass neighborhood I assume he isn’t a doctor. I once heard someone say that he works as an x-ray tech but I don’t know that for a fact.

I don’t know what his schedule is, so I have no idea how long I’ll be at Delon’s mercy this evening. And the boy has me so cowed that I don’t have the nerve to ask.

I stepped inside and shut the door behind me. When I turned around, Delon was just passing through a doorway at the other end of the small foyer I was standing in. I followed him until I entered the room and came to a sudden stop. We weren’t alone!

I looked around at the five leering boys seated around the room and suddenly I couldn’t breathe. Delon had stopped and turned to enjoy my reaction when I noticed we have company. I don’t doubt my reaction was everything he hoped for.