Mob Movies

Chapter 9 Noreen Fights Back

     “You’re going to do what we say, bitch,” demanded Morgan of a screaming terrified Noreen.  Five minutes ago, Noreen’s chubby five foot two was standing toe to toe with Morgan loudly informing him that she was from Alabama and there was no way in hell black men were going to touch her.  Actually, she voiced her objection more colorfully.  I detected a slight trace of a Southern accent.

     “You niggers are all going to jail as soon as I can get to a phone,” said Noreen looking straight at Morgan.

     “But first we’re going to make a film showing your husband how much you love sex with Afro-Americans,” said Morgan calmly.  He seemed taken off stride by the vehemence of her objections.  Morgan struck me as the kind who wasn’t used to dealing with the word No.

     “No fucking way, my daddy was the Sheriff of Cobb County, Alabama and he taught me only Yankee white trash whores screw coons,” said Noreen after Morgan explained she would be starring in an Al Quarles production of a Tom Meade porn epic.  She looked absolutely stunned when Morgan mentioned the three hundred and twenty five thousand dollars her husband owed his bookie.  Still, to Noreen it was his problem not hers.

      “Put Henry in your stupid nigger fuck film, he’s the one who lost the money,” said Noreen disgustedly. 

     Obviously, Al Quarles was not the only racist in Indianapolis.  Corrine and I exchanged looks of amazement.   Being respectable middle class white people, obsessed with political correctness, we knew the proper terms were black men, Afro-Americans, or more genteelly men of color.  We understood it was perfectly acceptable for Morgan and the crew to refer to each other as ‘Nigger’ but it was strictly forbidden and dangerous for a Caucasian to include the N-word in his vocabulary.  Coon was definitely not PC.  It was as bad as jigaboo, spade, and sambo.  Somehow Martin Luther King and the civil rights movement had slipped by Noreen unnoticed.       

    Like I said before, Morgan seemed taken back by her outburst.  Maybe, he wasn’t used to someone objecting or perhaps he was feeling a little mellow after fucking Corrine and watching me suck his spunk out of her vagina.

     But when Noreen attempted to emphasize her non cooperation by taking a round house swing at his head he blocked only at the last minute, the Morgan we all knew and feared came back into the picture.

     He grabbed Noreen’s other hand; then holding both hers in one of his, he slapped her silly.  It was open palm to one side of her face followed by backhand to the other.  I had a side view.  Spit sprayed out of her mouth as her head snapped in the direction of the slap.  He repeated the double slap then dropped her to the floor like a sack of potatoes.

     Noreen was tough because she didn’t start blubbering or begging him to stop.  There was a thin line of blood leaking out one nostril and red handprints on both sides of her face.  Morgan followed up immediately grabbing a handful of red hair to lift her to her feet.  Once standing, he punched her in the gut hard enough we could hear the hiss of the air leaving her lungs.

     Still, it wasn’t the kind of bone breaking punch that would have burst Noreen’s spleen killing her.  Morgan had pulled his punches else Noreen’s body would be somewhere in an unmarked grave. 

     “Strip her, Jerome,” said Morgan.  Noreen was back on the floor curled up in a tight ball trying to figure out how to get oxygen back in her lungs.

     “Right, boss,” said Jerome always anxious to do Morgan’s bidding.

     But Noreen was not going to go quietly in the night.  She struggled to keep her pantsuit on, requiring Jamal and Kelso to help Jerome.  She put up a good fight but a one hundred fifty pound woman, regardless of where in Alabama she was born, is no match for three muscular young Afro-Americans.  Two minutes later, Noreen was crouched on the floor looking slightly ridiculous wearing only a pair of those calf length trouser hose. 

     Her figure wasn’t all that bad.  At least her stomach didn’t look like an anaconda that just eaten an explorer.  Her tits were large and appeared at least for now to be holding their own against gravity.  I’d say she would look damn good for her age if she took off ten, maybe fifteen pounds.  The only odd thing about her appearance was that her pubic hair was neatly trimmed in the shape of a heart.

     “Are you ready to do as you’re told,” asked Morgan?

     “No fucking way, you can rape me but I’m not fucking a pack of dirty niggers,” said Noreen once more prompting Corrine and I to exchange looks of amazement.

     I thought about saying something to Noreen to ease her mind  pointing out that my beloved wife had been fucking said pack of unclean black men and enjoying the living hell out of it.   She was even willing to share the Afro-American body fluids she accumulated with her loving Caucasian husband.  But I stayed quiet which is one of the reasons I’m still alive and married.

      “Put her on the bed,” said Morgan to Jerome.

      Don’t you touch me, you black bastards,” yelled Noreen as they grabbed her arms and legs.  They lifted a squalling, spitting, and squirming Noreen off the floor and tossed her on the bed.

     “Spread her” said Morgan reaching into his pocket.

     Kelso held her arms over her head while Jamal and Jerome each took a leg.  She struggled with the three for a moment before realizing it was hopeless and giving up.

     “Spread her legs wider,” said Morgan removing a pair of needle nose pliers from his pocket.  I have since learned black men consider needle nose pliers an essential part of their kit.  Placing the tips around sensitive body parts and applying pressure is an excellent way to encourage cooperation from the female whether that means providing a hummer or fixing a sandwich.

     “Keep your nigger hands off me, motherfuckers.  Stop it, you’re going to break my legs,” screamed Noreen as they treated her ankles like a wishbone forcing her legs into a split a serious devote of yoga would appreciate.

     Her resistance was utterly futile. She was only making it more difficult for me, the director, since my heroine was starting to look the worse for wear. 

     Morgan demonstrated he was adept at castrating both genders.  Noreen screamed in protest as he spread her labia open and freed her clitoris from its fold.

    “Hold her still, dammit,” said Morgan to his helpers as he coaxed her clit out with two fingers then placed the business end of the needle nose on each side of the tendril of flesh and squeezed.

     My business is sound proof and located off by itself in an industrial park.  That was a good thing because Noreen screamed so loud my ears hurt.

     “Jesus, they’re killing her,” said Corrine taking a step toward the bed.

     I grabbed her arm to stop her.  “No, she’ll be okay.”  I didn’t doubt for a moment that Morgan was going to convince Noreen to see things his way.

    Corrine looked at me then shrugged.  Later, she thanked me for stopping her.  “I would only have wound up like Noreen with pliers marks on my pussy.”

     I held on to my wife as Morgan spent several minutes finding new ways to crush parts of Noreen’s vulva.  Noreen proved she was one hell of a screamer.  Finally, Morgan’s switchblade appeared in his hand.  The very tip of her love button was in the pliers and the nerve ganglia associated with the female orgasm were stretched to an impressive length.

     “Are you going to perform or do I cut it off,” asked Morgan holding the blade against the base of her womanhood?

     While I do not think, having your clit chopped is on a par with having your testicles removed; Noreen considered her love button important enough to ignore her daddy’s ban on sexual intercourse with the inferior black race.  “I’ll do it.  Just don’t cut me.”

     “Get her ready, Corrine,” said Morgan returning pliers and switchblade to his pocket.

     Show over, everyone relaxed except Corrine who rushed to Noreen’s side to comfort her.

     “Are you okay,” asked Corrine putting her arm around the sobbing woman?

     “Who are you,” asked Noreen recovering quickly?  No one had been introduced.

     “I’m Corrine, the fluffer.  I need to fix your hair and get you ready.”

     “I need my purse,” said Noreen.  “My medicine is in it.”

     Jerome was close enough to hear.  He grabbed her handbag off a nearby table and started to hand it to her but Morgan intervened, snatching it away.  And it was a good thing he did because he pulled out a nickel-plated semi-automatic pistol.

     Morgan held the gun up for Jerome to see then shook his head in dismay before muttering, “Dumb fucking niggers, get us all killed.”

     “I need my medicine,” repeated Noreen. 

     Maybe she did need her medicine or maybe she planned to shoot us.  There was no way of knowing.

      Morgan ejected the magazine and took a close look at the weapon.  “Twenty five caliber Beretta, whore’s gun.” He thought for a moment then slipped it in his pocket.  Perhaps he knew of an unarmed prostitute badly in need of protection.

      “It was a Christmas gift from Henry,” said Noreen dejectedly.

      I gave Corrine a pair of gold earrings last Christmas.  I made a note to move up to diamond studs.

      Morgan took another look inside the purse then dumped the contents on the table.  There were at least a dozen pill phials.

      “Vicodin, Percoset, Oxy-contin,” said Moran reading the labels.  “Bitch has got herself a regular pharmacy.”

      “Vicodin,” said Noreen holding out her hand.

      Morgan tossed her the phial then tossed one of the others to Jerome. He took a quick look at the label, opened it, and swallowed a couple of white caplets.   He handed it to Jamal who downed a couple.  It went around the crew winding up in my hand.  The label read, ‘40mg. Percoset.’  I started to put it back on the table but Corrine grabbed it, shook two of the caplets in her hand then popped them in her mouth. 

      “Gimme,” said Corrine reaching toward Kelso who had just taken a drink from a plastic water bottle.  As I watched her take a swallow then hand it back to him, I made a mental observation my wife had been undergoing significant changes in her attitude on several topics.

     Pre Quarles, she would never have been willing to take drugs or even worse share a water bottle with a stranger.  Corrine was picky when it came to personal hygiene.  She even refused to drink after me, objecting to what she referred to as backwash. 

     On the other hand, she had performed sex acts with Kelso and the others that were downright nasty.  I suppose it would be ridiculous to be concerned about a little matter of Kelso’s backwash when you had spent time with his dick in your mouth or your tongue in his ass. 

     Noreen tapped four Vicodin into her hand then swallowed them.  Kelso handed her the water bottle and she washed down her drugs.   She looked around at everyone, shrugged her shoulders and made an announcement.  “I’m ready. Let’s get this over with.”

    Corrine swung into action.  Noreen’s intransigence had caused serious delay.  After a quick discussion about sizes, Corrine rushed off to the prop room while Noreen repaired her make-up and hair.  Corrine returned with a pale blue set of underwear that worked well with Noreen’s red hair and fair complexion.

     A quarter hour later, a revived Noreen was in the center of the bed masturbating with the aid of a purse sized plastic vibrator.  Heavy make-up combined with matching hose and garter belt gave her the requisite slut look.  Five naked black males surrounded her bed stroking their cock while our heroine faithfully repeated my words about how much she was looking forward to being filled with black dick.  I’d written out some of the dialogue before hand and if I do say so myself, it sizzled.

    Tension over, the supporting cast was in a relaxed mood.  Under my astute direction, they leaned in to feel and kiss her tits or engage in what is referred to as a porn kiss.  That’s tongue kissing with the tongues outside the mouth.  Noreen’s smallish light pink tongue made an interesting contrast with the larger darker tongues of the crew.  Noreen had apparently made her peace with the situation because she swapped spit with alacrity. Each of the five twisted Noreen’s knobs as they kissed.  I had to admit they were good when it came to knowing what turned a woman on.  This white boy learned a few things watching them.

     Corrine was nearby kneeling in front of Levar who once again had spent the afternoon banging Shelia exhausting his sexual energy.  Her pink tongue was traveling the length of his manhood working to restore him to tumescence.

     Morgan pulled out his big shiny semi-automatic giving every indication he planned to shoot Levar when he confessed he had repeated his transgression.  But after Corrine said she could remedy the situation, he adopted an I-give-up attitude and returned the pistol to its holster allowing all of us to breathe a sign of relief.

     “Do it,” said Morgan ordering Corrine to fluff Levar and she, too eagerly for my taste, complied.

     The incident made me wonder how good Shelia was in bed.  She must be incredible for Levar to risk eating a bullet.  Perhaps I should ask him to fix me up.  In theory, there wouldn’t be anything wrong with me enjoying interracial sex since Corrine had serviced seven different black men.  Rationality returned and I dismissed the idea.  Screwing Sheila, whoever she is, might incline Corrine to borrow Morgan’s switchblade and slice my balls off.

     I directed each of the six-man crew to take a turn putting his cock in Noreen’s mouth while she maneuvered the tip of the vibrator around her clit.  She was either damn good at faking a climax or had one.  It really didn’t matter to me.

     My second film was more polished than the first.  Given I was not working with a pregnant star and had more options.  I included Mr. Quarles request for triple penetration in the reverse cowgirl position.  I used a hand held camera to capture some great close-ups of three black cocks slamming into her orifices.  The crew had gotten used to taking direction.  There’s a technique to filming porn.  You need certain types of close-ups that border on the gynecological.    

     Noreen’s performance proved interesting.  Foolishly difficult at the beginning, once she agreed to perform she didn’t hold back.

     I attributed it to the inevitability factor.  The bottom line was that she had no choice in the matter.  It was going to happen whether she liked it or not, so why get mutilated by Morgan’s switchblade.  Go ahead fuck your brains out.  No one can blame you.  Your asshole husband lost all that money.  Later, I realized my logic also applied to Corrine.

     Morgan had promised if Noreen cooperated she would get home safely.  Corrine had backed up his commitment by telling her the other women (actually there had only been one) were returned to their husbands.  I wouldn’t want to be Noreen’s husband, Henry, when she walked in the door with interracial spunk dribbling down her legs.

     I’d watched several hardcore porn films since I made my first film.  I’d made notes on things I wanted to try.  One of the films was called ‘Double Stuffing Coeds’.  Noreen’s anus proved it could accommodate Jerome and Jamal’s cock at the same time.  Her sphincter remained open after they pulled out and I got a close up of the inside of her rectum.   Now that was not porn but art.

     “Look at that shithole,” commented an admiring Levar who was holding the light I was using to illuminate the interior of Noreen’s bowel.

     Corrine stayed busy with her fluffing duties while I directed and filmed.  As we approached the end, the crew once again dumped Corrine on top of Noreen for some girl on girl sex.  I watched in amazement as they ate each other’s cunt like their life depended on it.  And in a way, it did. 

     After the women completed their mutual oral session, the guys joined in for a free style gangbang that included Corrine’s sphincter demonstrating it was also capable of being double stuffed.  Apparently, I had taught Jerome’s crew something knew in the art of the gangbang.

     We ended with Noreen getting her face coated with jism six times over.  On my cue, she smiled at the camera as she used the side of her finger to push errant clumps of semen onto her outstretched tongue.

     Arriving home at three, Corrine and I did not waste any time when we finally got in bed.  Wordlessly, I spread her legs and proceed to bury my face against her vulva and sphincter as we rolled into the sixty-nine position.  Her mouth and fingers attached my cock and balls.  Once I had noisily consumed the liquid contents of both orifices, I fucked her like a madman.  I collapsed as soon as I finished and slept until mid afternoon.

     We didn’t have a real conversation until that night at dinner at our favorite restaurant.  It took two martinis to loosen our tongues.

     Corrine spoke first.  “Are you all right with what happened last night?”

     “Yes and no,” I answered.

     “The yes part first,” said Corrine looking serious.

      “I was incredibly turned watching you with Morgan and the others.  I’m having some difficulty processing being jealous one minute and getting a hard on the next.  I’m not comfortable with myself that I find it incredibly erotic watching you with other men.”

     “The no,” said Corrine.

     “I’m worried about you.  I don’t mean it like you think.  I’m concerned that when it’s over and let’s hope that one day it will be, you’ll have regrets and blame me.”

     “Given how I’ve been acting with Morgan and his bunch, I don’t see how I could blame you for anything.  I’ve lost all self control,” said Corrine placing her hand on mine.

     “I’m caught up in it myself.  I mean sexually.  Last night I would have loved to be one of the men gang banging Noreen.   I practically lost it when she kept referring to Morgan and the others using the N-word,” I said.

      “She was a tough one.   Do you blame me for being a very willing fluffer?  I blame myself because I know it contradicts everything I believed in,” said Corrine.  “It’s the essence of being objectified as a sex object.  I’m just a warm mouth, not a person.”

     “No, I don’t blame you.  You’re not the one who placed those bets.  And you shouldn’t blame yourself for enjoying sex with them.  All it means is you’re normal.  The bottom line is they’re nice looking men with good bodies and to be honest, they know how to show their appreciation for a beautiful woman like you.”

    So the conversation ended on a positive note.  When we got back to the house, I slipped a DVD of her and Morgan’s initial performance into the player.

     “You filmed us,” said Corrine looking at the screen as we slipped in bed.  She opened her night table drawer, removed a tube of lubricant, and applied it to her fingers then transferred it to her sex.  The fact she was willing to masturbate in my presence while we watched her having sex with Morgan could only mean that the Meade’s were in new territory.

     “Yes, it’s very erotic, especially to me,” I said reaching in my pajamas bottoms to extract my already hard cock as I reached for the lubricant in Corrine’s hand.  On screen, she was undressing Morgan.  When she removed his shirt, she glued her mouth to his nipples.

     “Me too,” she said stroking her sex.  She surprised me by delivering a hard open palmed slap to her pussy.  Was my normally pain adverse wife undergoing a sea change in that regard too?

      We lay side by side in bed masturbating as we watched.  After a while, Corrine moved down in the bed to suck me.  Next, she mounted me in the reverse cowgirl position so she could watch the DVD.  We both finished when Morgan ejaculated and she climbed off the bed headed in the direction of the Control Room to share her newly acquired body fluid. 

     Too bad, there wasn’t a camera in the Control Room to capture the finale.