An Inquisitive Federal Agent

An Inquisitive Federal Agent

East Coast Slaver Organization Story - XII

Chapter 04 – A Kinky Tryst in a Dingy Motel (or A Pimp Approves)

Aaron Clarke eased his bulk down onto the kitchen chair waiting for him on the dark veranda, opened his small cooler, and pulled out two beers. Only then did he turn to his much larger acquaintance already seated beside him. “Well, Maurice,” he asked while he offered a beer bottle dripping icy water, “what do you think?”

The black giant that Christine had sighted outside a whore's room took the bottle without comment. He coolly waited while Aaron used an opener to pop off the caps before he clicked bottles with the white man and said, “Cheers.” Only after he took a long satisfying swallow of the Pacifico Beer did he offer, “Boss, … gotta say, … she much nicer den dem skanky bitches ya paid me ta break fo ya befo.”

Aaron nearly choked on his beer at that unexpected comment. “You gotta be kidding me!” he sputtered. “Whats a nigger like you look for in a piece of ass anyway?” He locked eyes with the hulking brute next to him and boldly continued, “I can't imagine a single white man I know that would prefer this slack-bodied, thick-waisted, over-age whore instead of quality pieces of ass like Gloria and Danielle Petrillo.” (Author's note: Gloria and Danielle Petrillo are captured, tortured, and converted to meek slave bitches after their crack dealer boyfriend is killed by Aaron Clarke in ECSO – 3: A Supermodel's Downfall . Maurice and the crack dealer are bitter rivals and Maurice was thrilled to exact revenge against the bastard's haughty mistresses)

Maurice laughed uproarishly over remarks that many might have judged demeaning and personally challenging. Tears of laughter formed in the corners of his eyes and he leaned down to whisper, “What ya tiny-dicked white boys don' unnerstand is a real man don't like to break his toys while he's playing wit dem. Dhose two skanky ‘hos was nice pieces of ass, but us brothers had ta deal wit dem too nicely. I correct a bitches' poor manners, … I don't wanna have ta take her ta hospital an da men what rent her time don wanna hafta hol' back none either. Those two woulda broke in half if I didn't hold back alla time. Now, … this ho, … she be fine. You know she tight, … I checked it out like ya axed, … she tight like a teen, … and she be built for abuse. No, … I'd take a ho like dis any time over da Petrillos. Plus, … ya do it right, … and dis one worship da ground ya walk on. She be beggin fa mo, … an happy ta get it. Fact, … she pay ya ta fuck her, ta let her work da streets. Dat makes fo a quality ‘ho.”

The long-winded remarks exceeded the sum total of everything the normally stoic pimp had spoken to him since they'd met. Aaron just sat there in amazement that anyone would give up rights to the amazing Petrillo sisters for a much older woman like Christine.

Maurice interrupted Aaron's musing with another demand, “What? Jew think I don know my bidness. You watch, … gimme two weeks, … I make lotsa scrip offa her. She gonna crave black, never wanna go back.” His face hardened and his voice took on a much slyer tone, “Course, ya don wanna be forgetting our basic deal? No reneging, … right?”

“No,” Aaron laughed, “she'll be here in two nights and you'll find five thousand in twenty dollar bills as promised on the table. Plus, … since you're begging so much, … I'll lift all the restrictions you were under with the Petrillo sisters except its only condoms to fuck her. I'll probably want her back so nothing worse than crabs, body lice, is allowed. Process this one as you would any of your new whores that are a little reluctant to join your family circle.”

Maurice's face lit up with pleasure at the words. “OK, den, boss. I take da bitch ‘n two nights. Course she owe Yolanda a hunnerd dolla for the suckie-suckie action she gave da bitch befo you come tonight.”

“Of course, she'll be told to bring a hundred of her own dollars to pay off a debt. I think she'll be astounded when she finds out what it was for.”

Maurice smiled happily and continued with his soliloquy, “You see, we makea bunch offa dis one.” Maurice took another long draught of the beer and continued. “Her room gonna be twenty dolla a day an she keep forty percent of da take and she pay fa own condoms, lube, and any clothes she fuck up on da job. I pay fo da food, any uppers she be needin' ta get cranked up wid in da mornin', an da first setta clothes. Das a deal, cause no udder drugs ‘llowed un I good at monitoring dey nutritional needs.”

Aaron nodded philosophically as if he understood or cared about the inner workings of the ‘deals' a pimp made with his whores. “Christine is gonna sample a lot more over the next two weeks than just every style of dick and pussy ever made by God,” Aaron thought with a grin. “Her education is gonna include drugs, sexual acts she never dreamed of, and painful corrections for any failings in her sex acts.” He lay back in the chair and grinned at the thought of the changes Christine Taylor was going to experience. “She'll either come running back to me for protection or she'll run away so fast she'll never look back. Hmmm, … not sure which is best for me.”

Aaron and Maurice sat silently through the remainder of their first beers. Just as they opened the second beers, the door to room number 8 opened nearby and two swaggering Hispanic males walked out into the humid Miami night. Unlike the embarrassed white john, these two walked right up to Maurice and slapped right hands together in high salutes with the monstrous seated pimp.

“Yo, man,” one said with confidence, “we be getting to be regular customers of Pearl there.” He pointed back to the doorway where a young black whore was languidly leaning against a doorframe wearing only a pair of lime green hipster panties with a too-short lacy babydoll top in bright lemonade. “Think its ‘bout time you give us a quantity discount.”

Pearl licked a forefinger and purred in perfect English, “You boys are always welcome to warm my bed.” She giggled and as she flounced around to go into her room she said over her shoulder, “After all, two brothers at the same time are at least twice as nice as one.”

The Hispanic that had remained silent broke into a happy grin and high-fived his brother. “You, see!” he demanded, “that's what I'm talking about! We gotta get a couple of Cuban sisters that like to fuck like us!”

Maurice waved his cell phone toward the two happy customers and said, “You ‘member dat any time ya wants ta partay, just call, … I get da girls to ya fast. I takes care of my premium customers. You sets up a big partay, you gets her free ‘nother time. Dats da discount rate.”

“Maurice,” Aaron congratulated him after the two men strutted away, “you are the man. I see you got a full range of customers. Why don't you keep variety in your stable beyond black pussy?”

Aaron got a sad look back from Maurice that told him he'd misunderstood the man all along. “Robert,” he said in the clearest tone he'd used all night, “you missed the point entirely. You only see a huge black man and his four main whores. To you, we're all ignorant blacks just of the boat from the plantation. Yes, I'm a pimp. Yes, I sell pussy by the minute to a buncha losers. But, … in my own way, I keep these girls as my family. I rule harshly, … but I still love them. Give me some white whores to run and it'd be different. I'd rule hard but it would feel more like a Slaver in charge of slaves than Master over my family.”

Aaron rubbed his cold bottle of beer across his face and asked, “So, … let me guess, … you've been to college?”

Maurice grinned a smile so wide that his center gold tooth gleamed in the meager light on the veranda. “Robert Morgan,” he replied, “I got my graduate degree in business from the University of Virginia 's Darden School of Business after playing football at the University of Maryland . The first week out of school, I moved to Miami for a high-paying office job with an import firm and one night I found a streetwalker beat up and left in an alley. I brought her to my hotel room, cleaned her up, and after recovering, she refused to take my help unless she worked. First, it was free sex, and I gotta tell you, it was great sex. Then, she snuck out one night and came back the next morning, roughed up but safe, clenching three hundred dollars. Eventually I realized I'd either have to dump that girl on the street to die or I'd have to move closer to where she worked to watch out for her. It's pretty obvious what my decision was.”

“So my friend, dis nigger now has two degrees from Ivy League Schools and one from the Street School of Hard Knocks. I still work part-time for that first import company and that first whore I met lives and works right here in room number six. She's busy now, but you need to meet Lucille. She's my oldest at twenty-nine, she's fat with the biggest hooters in the stable, and she's still my best earner. Pearl may be the best looking, and popular with the Hispanic crowd, but my bro's they go for the meaty frame and the nice attitude that Lucille has. You got the time, you pay me the dime, and you can take her for a test ride. And, … let me tell you, I got a better long-term retirement play than most white-collar workers in this town. When we retire, the girls get a piece of the savings if they go with me.”

Aaron laughed and replied, “I guess what you're telling me is that my girl in room 4 will be right up there with Lucille as best earner?”

“Das right,” Maurice said, slipping back into street lingo. “Dis why you white folks gonna lose control da world. You pay a nigger like me ta fuck ya woman and keep da bread she earns. My dick make her a ‘ho to any nigger she meet. What kinda bidness plan is dat, Whitey?”

Aaron finished folding the last of his clothing on the table and peered through the gloom toward his blindfolded prey still trapped in her self-bondage contraption. Deciding that he wanted more than ever to keep his promise to make this a night of sexual bliss for the doomed federal employee, Aaron squeezed the base of his already rigid cock. He'd already sterilized the right side of the spongy fuckmeat with alcohol. He snapped fingers from his other hand against the cylinder of a small syringe filled with clear liquid to remove any air bubbles and smoothly sunk the thin needle one-half-inch-deep into the corpus sponglosum. Aaron rarely used the alprostadil as he had never had problems achieving achingly hard erections. The drug would allow his penis to fully engorge with blood, a condition that even sleep would not relieve. The injection would result in a persistent erection (priapism) that would not subside in less than six hours. Only vigorous and extended sex would make the rock-hard fuckmeat relax. The drug kept him unnaturally hard and almost impossible for him to climax.

He knee-walked up behind Christine's gently swaying ass and lined the now pulsating head of his cock with her dripping wet snatch. Even the strong odor of wintergreen from the liniment couldn't completely overpower the musky scent of her need. He fell forward with exuberance that he knew would rip at her still-trapped nipples and disturb the two hundred clothespins arrayed around her body. The normally intense feelings of sex were amplified a hundred-fold by the highly pressurized blood that the alprostadil trapped in his nine-inch cock. Aaron moaned aloud in wondrous pleasure as his pubic bone bottomed out against her ample ass. Knowing that the cum receptacle below him was already primed for sex, he immediately began pumping hard into her slobbery hole. The liquid sounds of sloppy sex and the slap of sweaty flesh against sweaty flesh filled the room. Christine's grunts and Aaron's increasingly vocal moans of pleasure spoke of the enjoyment they felt in the rough copulation. A distant howl of sexual satisfaction from another of the motel rooms spurred Aaron on to an even faster, and harder, fucking pace.

One reason for his intense need to fuck this woman so memorably was what Maurice had shown him just as Aaron turned to go into Christine's room. The six-foot-six-inch monster had risen, casually unzipped his pants, and unrolled a limp cock that was easily ten inches long and two-and-a-half inches thick, in its un-erect form. Silently Maurice had stroked himself and the black man's baseball-bat-thick-cock grew to a full thirteen inches in length with a constant width the same as a twelve-ounce soda can. Aaron stared astounded at the fat, apple-sized crown atop the long bar of fuckmeat, thinking only of his comparatively small plum-sized cockhead on his nine-inch cock. Maurice continued his smile as he stepped toward Pearl 's just vacated room. “Gwan, go fuck your bitch!” Maurice demanded. “While she gets her last piece of white man's cock in a long while, you think about how this bat gonna feel rippling into her three tight little holes. Whew, she gonna be ‘dicted to this cock, yessiree. You may think you da man, … but wait till she sees this fuckpole. She be my cockslave fo life, … you see.”

Christine listened for her long-awaited Master's return. She was sure she heard his voice outside her room and wondered what could delay him so long from dipping back into her eager holes. When his weight finally made the bed sag, she audibly sighed in anticipation. “Hurry,” she thought, “please start plunging me out. The liniment's making my holes burn and itch for something to scratch them. Oh, fuck, … hurry, please.” The long, slick glide into her core brought instant satisfaction; it made everything she went through this long day well worth the wait. Supercharged with sexual energy, she began to rock back and forth to help drive the rigid pole deeper and deeper into her rear. Christine disregarded the painful tugs against her nipples and the bite from the clothespins; instead, she fiercely concentrated on the dick rocketing in and out of her cunt.

Sometime later, Christine slowly came back to consciousness. The luxurious feeling of warm water and aromatic suds brought a moan of enjoyment and a lazy stretch to get the aches out of her muscles. The remembrance of where she was brought her bleary eyes open with a snap. “Yes,” she thought as she peered about the dark room, “I'm still at the motel. Hmmm, the candle he lit smells wonderful, clean and crisp like an orange.” She saw that a thick layer of soothing bubbles still covered her supine form and her hair felt like the braids had been undone, the snarls brushed away, and the hair washed and conditioned. “This is why I love Robert so much,” she thought dreamily. “I know, … I'm too old and fat for him to want fulltime, … but thank God he throws me an occasional mercy fuck. And, … wow, how considerate a Master, he always gives me something back after he takes me so hard. I've never had an overnight lover carry me to the tub, set up a romantic scene, and then clean me so gently that I don't even wake up. God! He fucked me unconscious.” Christine smiled and relaxed back in the warm, soothing water, thoroughly enjoying the moment.

The fact that the much younger man was using her as casual fuckmeat didn't bother her in the least. She figured she was getting more out of the deal that he was, especially given the small touches he often threw in before, during, and after their scenes. “Cruel, … demanding, … a man never to cross; yes, he is,” she thought, “but,” she continued more dreamily, “he is a vigorous lover, he can be romantic, considerate, and he is obviously stinking rich.”

A moment later, the lover she was so wistfully thinking of slipped into the steamy bathroom with a white towel wrapped around his trim waist. He silently offered her an icy glass of wine. “Hmmm,” was her contented reply. After a taste, she smiled eagerly up at his face and shyly said, “Thank you, Robert. That was the most memorable self-bondage and sex scene I've ever been put through. It was everything I'd have wanted and more. It was also deliciously long.”

Aaron smiled at how easy it was to please this forty-two-year-old nympho-slut federal agent. “After all,” he told himself smugly, “it's all about the planning. A good game plan with all the details figured out will never fail. Gotta think of even the small things, like an aroma-therapy candle to set the right mood.” He stood, took a sip of the crisp Viognier wine, dropped his towel, and exposed his still rock-hard dick to the woman in the tub. “Take your time here,” he said with a predatory grin as he stroked himself gently with his spare hand, “but, … just remember that I'll be waiting in bed. I expect you to climb aboard and give me the most energetic fuck you possible can. I wanta see those titties fly about as you turn on the high-speed fucking. That's your only payment for this night. And, … we still have long hours of fun before you have to wake for work.” With that simple demand, and the promise for hours more no-guilt sex, Aaron slipped out of the bathroom and rested on the second double bed in the room. The first mattress was deeply soaked through with drool and sex drippings as well as the large ammonia-smelling patch where Christine had pissed herself as she slipped into unconsciousness from his last vigorous fuck session.

The heavy weight of Christine Taylor creeping naked into bed with him woke Aaron from his light rest. He continued to feign sleep as her mouth zeroed in on his flaccid cock. Exuberant as a lover, Christine was noisy as she slurped and sucked to encourage her favorite fuck tool to harden. Aaron's last thought before he started to concentrate fully on the tight sheath of the pussy sliding down to engulf his cock was, “Wonder how tight she'll be in two weeks when Maurice is finished with her?”

 

--- To Be Continued ---

 

Author: Desert Dog ****** E-Mail: Desertlickingdog at yahoo dot com

 

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