The Logic stories are three interrelated tales that begin with the actions of a monstrous, selfish, immature man, continue with an immigrant who wishes to weaken and destroy his adopted country and end on an isolated pony ranch in the Texas Hill Country. 

This particular story has been expanded from a short vignette found in The Logic of My Anger: A Sociopath’s Tale.  The woman in the hotel room has been unknowingly subjugated by her psychopathic boyfriend; she has unwittingly allowed him to begin destroying her life.  She is manipulated into entering the hotel room where she has been set up to be sexually tortured and repeatedly raped, and then discarded by her rapists when she is no longer of value. 

The Hotel Room

I am the punishment of God.  If you had not done great sins, God would not have sent a punishment like me down on you. 

-Genghis Khan 

If someone betrays you once, it’s their fault; if they betray you twice, it’s your fault.

-Eleanor Roosevelt

How She’d Turned Her Life Around or No Matter What Happened, She Remained A Hopeless Optimistic

She was a strikingly beautiful woman: high cheekbones sharp enough to eat off of, straight aristocratic nose and full red lips.  Her skin was tight and clear of blemishes, and about the only sign of her true age were a few tiny lines around her eyes that might not have been there a couple of decades ago.  Her longish, blue-black hair only accentuated her large almond-shaped blue eyes.  And she was also beautiful in the way that only women with a measure of maturity could be beautiful.  Not like in a fashion magazine, and not like a model.  There was a quality of realness here; an authenticity only hinted at that led you to feel you might just as easily meet her at a supermarket or church or at the PTA. 

Long and lean as a horsewoman, she had the bold face of a beautiful explorer, and what men often mistook as the cool, calculating eyes of a risk-taker.  It was obvious that she was comfortable with her beauty and there was something deeply erotic in the way she moved without any trace of self-consciousness.  She had an almost boyish, yet obviously feminine figure that retained a remarkably tiny waist even after bearing a child.  Every man that saw her was reminded of a tom-boy grown to womanhood, her sexuality swimming mysteriously beneath the surface…and she was all the more desirable to every man for that.

Widowed almost twenty years ago, at thirty-eight the still unmarried woman had raised one son by herself.  Ever aware of appearances, she had avoided even the hint of scandal or impropriety and become a pillar of her community…..up until the last few months, that is.  She regularly attended church and was on numerous neighborhood committees.  In normal times she could something of a bitch, this woman with the cool don’t-fuck-with-me eyes and a magnetism that every man could not help but feel. 

But not now, not at this moment. 

Just when she was entering what was should have been one of the best periods in her life, everything she had ever believed in, everything she had ever worked for, had ever wanted, it had been destroyed almost overnight, right before her disbelieving eyes. 

Several months ago she’d been with her young lover.  Being with him, accepting his money for sex had been a mistake from the beginning, but after the first couple of assignations, she hadn’t cared about the money anymore because she realized that she had begun to really care about him.  The realization had been shocking, but the honest truth was that the more time spent with him after that, the happier she was and the more she realized just how much she had begun to…love…him. 

She had at first somewhat reluctantly begun her affair with the twenty-year old son of a neighbor and good friend only for the money that he would give her.  But as this had begun to blossom into something much deeper for her, she had tried to deny it, deny her growing feelings for him.  Because of pride, she had done her best to keep the affair a secret, not wanting to become one of those loose “older” women who were the subject of unending gossip, who diminished themselves through scandal and scandalous behavior, especially with men young enough to be their own child.  But now, here she was, with everything tumbling out of control.  Deep inside, Kate knew she had been raised far too better than to allow this, her mother would have been so ashamed.  But still, she continued seeing him, and she watched helplessly as tolerance turned to like, like to care, and finally, caring turned to love.  Love was what had been missing for so long in her life, and when it finally came a second time, when she could finally force herself to open her heart to it, this second chance at love changed her whole world. 

Then one night the unthinkable had happened.  Still dressed in the provocative manner that he so enjoyed, after he had left her home she’d later that night been attacked by an awful monster from the ghetto.  Raped multiple times in her own home by an unknown black man who’d somehow entered her home; she’d fought like a tiger but to no avail.  After twice satisfying himself, the horrible man had threatened to return, but for reasons that now seemed so stupid and naïve, she had not believed him, could not have forced herself to believe that he would dare to return to the scene of his first crime. 

Not wanting the affair or manner of her dress when first raped made public, not wanting her young lover to know that she’d been “soiled” in such a common manner, rather than reporting the assault and enduring all of the accompanying humiliation that this would have brought down on both of them, she’d just kept quiet, changed all of the door locks and tried to on her own to recover the broken parts of her life the rapist had left behind. 

The man had raped her without using any protection.  She took birth control pills so she wasn’t worried about becoming pregnant…god forbid she become impregnated by the black monster.  But she also obsessed for days afterwards about whether or not he had given her a venereal disease or even AIDS, for everyone knew that VD was rampant among the ghetto trash. 

Suddenly, those early fears became groundless, for the man had returned a second time, had somehow entered her home again and once more he attempted to ruin her life.  Again, she had fought him until exhausted.  But, successful once more, he again took what he wanted from her multiple times and then, as icing on the cake he beat her and humiliated her at the end, taking photos of her shame as proof.  She feared that what he had done threatened to turn her very existence into a cheap and tawdry anecdote for every lecherous man that had ever lusted after her.  His actions had taken away her independence, removed every freedom she had ever taken for granted as a woman, leaving her nothing but a reclusive, emotional wreck.

But in the end, her dilemma remained unchanged….in fact it was now even worse.  The public embarrassment of multiple rapes, the affair with her neighbor’s son, her manner of dress when attacked the first time, it had been compounded by the very fact that she had not reported the first attack.  But she was a tough person, and although she suffered deeply from the psychological trauma of the two attacks, somehow she had made it through this time too without losing her mind. 

But the man had threatened her that time too, declaring his intent to perhaps return a third time. 

Incredulity and disbelief. 

Despite the evidence of his two previous attacks, on a conscious level at least, she’d refused to believe that even one such as he could be that bold, that determined to destroy her.  There was no reason she knew of for his persecution of her; it was as if he somehow knew her personally and hated her.  It had to be a lie.  But even so, she still did her best to strengthen her home; she’d had the locks changed again and then had concentrating on trying to recover her sanity, on trying to forget the awful things he’d done to her. 

But in the end, her decision to ignore his threats had been wrong, a massive error in judgment.  For the man had NOT left her alone.  Rather, he HAD come for her a third time.  And then, dazed, emotionally exhausted, her mind a ticking time bomb of irrational thought and overwhelming fear, the woman had compounded her first errors a thousand-fold when, unlike the first two times, she had uncharacteristically submitted to the inevitable third rape without struggle.  It was then that he took additional pictures, but this time of them being together in bed, of their having apparently consensual sex. 

She loved the life she had created for herself.  But with these photos, the black man now controlled every aspect of her existence.  Worse, it turned out he was a pimp in addition to being a rapist, and in many ways he now treated her just like any other bitch in his string of whores. 

Like a foolish character in some poorly written “B” or “C” rated movie, she had finally admitted to herself that she truly loved the young man she was seeing, but this acknowledgement had only come when it was almost too late.  She had been independent for so long, been without a man for so long, that she had become used to that life.  But he brought her companionship, security and…love.  Somehow she had come to love this boy that was the same age as her son; she loved the boy that had grown up across the street from her house…..and she knew that he loved her. 

How could she have let this happen? She asked herself this a thousand times a day.  Would he still want her if he knew what had been done to her?  Her only hope was to cooperate with her rapist while she came up with a way that allowed she and Jimmy to flee from the horror her life had now become. 

Always aware of how men viewed her, after being taken sexually by the arrogant black man, the woman had found herself becoming more and more of a man-hater.  It was so easy to despise most men for what they thought about woman, what they did to women.  And in some ways, this hatred gave her strength, helped save her soul. 

Other than his odd and sometimes aggressive sexual needs, Jimmy was the only man she knew that treated her like a lady, with respect.  But the only other man that didn’t automatically feel Kate’s ice-cold glare and tiny merciless smile of disgust was the man that had put her in this situation in the first place….he wouldn’t allow her that freedom.  Even though she could not admit it to herself, Booker had totally dominated her in a way that forced her to accept victimhood in all of its multi-hued shades at his hands.  She fiercely hated him for what he’d done to her, but she never dared showed him the disrespect she felt.  She only hoped that with Jimmy’s help she could soon escape his terrible, demeaning grasp and do her best to live a normal life somewhere else with the man she loved. 

She was nervous for Booker had insisted that she meet him at a downtown hotel at three in the afternoon.  God!  This was the first time he’d demanded a meeting away from her home.  Kate's stomach burned with excess acid; it had only been yesterday that she’d visited her lover’s place and endured the humiliation of the cage he’d built specifically for her.  She still ached from her experiences there.  She loved Jimmy, but recently he’d begun pushing the limits of what she could easily give.  She wanted to be what he wanted, but almost daily found it more and more difficult to accept the pain and sexually humiliating things he did to her.  But that was okay too, for the two of them were still discovering the limits of their relationship.  And she knew their love would make it work. 

It had to. 

At the same time, Kate feared what Booker’s new demand represented; he was now taking her "cooperation" more and more for granted, assuming he was now in total control of her life.  But the truth was that at least in tiny one way it was better, for he had become ever more demanding, ever more insistent and less careful, ever more uncaring and oblivious to any need she might have for his secrecy.  At least, she hoped, at a hotel, they would be ensured privacy. 

She despaired of ever getting her life back.  It was inevitable that at some point the uncouth and horrible black man would be seen by her neighbors, that she would be exposed.  He had already almost destroyed everything wonderful she might ever have had with her lover, Jimmy.  And with that exposure, she would finally have been dragged down to Booker’s level as he ruined the full life she had finally created for herself after so many years of loneliness and crushing near-poverty. 

It was obvious he was getting what he wanted from her; he also obviously did not care about her own existence.  The black man would surely destroy her life with his selfish need for domination and physical gratification that he took from unwilling females such as her. 

To compound her nightmare, a happy Jimmy had telephoned today out of the blue wanting to meet for a late lunch.  Kate knew the only way she could accommodate both men was to dress for Booker before she met with Jimmy. 

Kate had been taught well by the uncouth man that now so controlled her life.  She took a shower, paying particular attention to shaving her legs, underarms, and between her legs as she prepared for the black man later in the afternoon.  She dressed in the skin-tight cream-colored topless bustier that Booker and Jimmy both enjoyed, but this time without Jimmy's knowledge.  Camouflaged in a simple yet well-tailored pantsuit, Kate managed to cover the lingerie to her satisfaction, though she feared that the snaps holding up her flesh-toned dress stockings might be revealed through the fabric of her business-like trousers.  Since it was a little cool, she also wore a fashionable dark-brown mid-thigh jacket. 

At lunch Jimmy was his normal, caring self.  Although he sensed that something was wrong and asked several times why she was so distracted, lunch was still pleasant.  They talked of how the weather had deteriorated so quickly, of their next overnight stay in Boston in order to see a show and of other things that concerned lovers like them and then Kate departed, off now to meet the man that had forced himself into her life just to become her secret lover.

There’s No Such Thing As A Free Lunch or He Still Hated What He had Created

Jimmy managed to act pleased with the beautiful woman that he met for lunch.  She was bundled against the cold when she arrived at their table and wore a conservative eggshell pantsuit under a light brown top and beige five-inch stiletto heel pumps.  Her nails and lip gloss were one of those colors between pink and flesh, and it went well with the eggshell.  Her fingers were slim and manicured and there was a single strand of white pearls around her neck.  Normally gorgeous, up close beneath her perfectly applied makeup she looked tired and harassed, but the objective viewer couldn’t really tell for sure until near.  Kate apologized for being a little late and then again for not being able to stay long. 

An appointment, she said.

They ate quickly and it was easy to see that Kate was unable to concentrate during their short lunch; she was visibly distracted; not at all the cool and collected woman he knew so well.  Jimmy worked at small talk and smiled a lot to put her at ease.  But soon their lunch was over.  She departed and Jimmy watched almost every male in the room look enviously at the woman with whom he was having an affair. 

And as he watched her walk away, his smile turned first to a grimace of distaste and then a poorly hidden sneer of disgust.  If she enjoyed meeting men in more public settings, then he would ensure that Booker obliged her more often. 

Jimmy had early in his life discovered that while he liked the feel of a woman, he didn’t really like most women; in fact, there were very few women he trusted and even fewer he admired.  The species just seemed somehow fundamentally flawed to him.  He was a sociopath in some ways, for he felt no guilt for his natural inclination to take a woman and use her, use her hard and then discard her like some toy that no longer amused him. 

And of all the whores and cunts it’d been his pleasure to use over the last few years, it turned out that this bitch was the fucking easiest one of all to manipulate.  A long-time friend of his mother, he’d known the woman for years and hated or resented her for much of that time.  Only recently had an opportunity become available for him to get inside her defenses.  He snorted unbelievingly as he remembered how she’d tried to use him, make him fall in love with her.  But her real nature had finally shone through as it inevitably must, and then he’d been reminded of her treachery just in time.  Relieved, safe from her manipulative ways, his hatred rekindled, he’d gone back to the original plan of using her need for affection and companionship as a way to manipulate the woman to her destruction. 

The black man he’d hired had his script and Jimmy had provided the cheap hotel room – unknown to all of the participants, it had of course been pre-wired with video and audio for his viewing pleasure.  It would be interesting to see how the cheating bitch reacted to what he and Booker had planned this time.

The Fragrance Hotel rented rooms.  Two hours.  Twenty-five dollars.  They often turned the same room around five times in a day.  Or if someone were desperate, rooms could be rented by the day.  The hotel looked like the kind that did this sort of thing, a concrete-block and corrugated-iron bunker with badly lit halls and soundproofed rooms with soundproof doors.  Of course, the inclement weather had cut down on the short-term clientele.  The oily clerk smirked as he took the dark-haired woman’s money, and her face burned with embarrassment at first when she was informed that she was responsible for paying for the room, paying the rate for a full day.  However, she quickly recovered and gave him her superior fuck you, you loser little man smile and left him standing behind his pathetic little desk. 

The lobby was cold, the elevator didn’t work, and the stairs and hall smelled of bleach and looked like they got scrubbed a lot because they needed to be scrubbed a lot.  There was a sticky carpet and a concrete staircase off of the lobby, and the elegant looking woman was mortified at being forced to meet the black pimp here.

The steel doors of the stair well groaned open.  The now unnerved woman stepped onto a threadbare brown carpet that probably had not been vacuumed for at least five years.  The hallway smelled of urine and empty Cup-A-Soup containers. 

She walked along the hall and passed an open door in which an undernourished girl, who looked no older than she needed to, lounged on a stained mattress on a small bed, clacking a wad of gum loudly.  And repeatedly.  She had an iPod on her belly and was idly working through a well-thumbed book.

The beautiful woman slowly walked to Room 29 and after hesitating to gather her courage, she opened the door with the old-fashioned key given to her by the smirking baboon downstairs.  The man that was effectively her pimp waited patiently inside. 

A cheap, shadowy hotel room in the late mid-afternoon light; the bed was a wreck of unclean tangled sheets scattered with Booker’s implements of pleasure and torture: ropes, rubber and plastic, wire and clothespins.  Two bags of fast food wrappers and potato chip empties lay in the corner and an old National Enquirer lay on the chipped and scarred bedside stand.

Looking around, all pretenses at arrogance fled her face.  The beautiful woman was horrified by the tacky, worn hotel room.  Unknown to her, this was the room in which two men had carefully planned to almost surgically remove all respect she might have felt for herself and her femininity, perhaps even eradicating at the same time the very thing that made her a woman, that made her human. 

The curtains were drawn and the room was surprisingly dark.  The reluctant woman looked once at the navy blue nylon gym bag the pimp had brought with him.  Still partially filled with his “party” toys, it contained duct tape, several different gags, a coil of rope, gloves, handcuffs, two or three dildos and more.  Bitter anger flared briefly and with remaining courage barely flickering, the woman at first tried to resist his demands, but she was once more coerced with only a few blows. 

She hated the power he had over her, the power to make her submit to him without saying a word.  To her shame, it ended like it always did, just like it had begun.  She sat fully clothed on the edge of the bed, her firm body lit by the few remaining angled rays of the sun as she provided a victim's reluctant, yet cooperative soul that the pimp required. 

Booker had to admit it; he liked doing this to his women. 

Booker was not an easy man to miss.  Enormously tall, his head seemed to almost brush the ceiling.  And he was so black that his skin almost drank the room’s dim light and glowed like painted gold, but still reflected light with an almost purple tinge.  His forehead and cheeks were filled with what looked like ritualized tribal markings.  A row of round, hard-looking purple scars the size of pencil erasers lined the man’s forehead above his eyebrows.  Three more lines of scars followed the line of his cheeks below each eye; each scar a hard knob like something had been pushed under the skin. 

His voice was a strong baritone, as deep and rich as oodles of chocolate sauce poured over chocolate ice cream.  He sometimes spoke with a ghettoized African-tinged street vernacular that was full of slang and sub-cultural references.  Other times he shifted into what sounded like a soft, educated British accent. 

Booker knew that his scars always terrified women at first; to them these things looked so creepy and obscene.  But he didn’t care, for when he smiled as he gave them his frank, cold look of assessment, every woman recognized in his dark eyes both arrogance and even grudging admiration for what they could do for him, how much money or power they represented to him.  It scared each and every one of his women to death to see his terrible teeth try a smile even as his eyes stayed sub-polar.  And make no mistake, by this time, the widower Kate was one of his women. 

At first reluctant to become involved in what he saw as an unnecessarily complicated white-boy plan for revenge, her boyfriend had eventually piqued Booker’s interest by playing the race card, telling him that "I know she likes to fuck.  But she'd never let a guy like you fuck her.  She's too good for that; and someone like you, especially being black, not in a million years."  Smart enough to recognize a frankly manipulative comment, subjugating the woman had still become a challenge for him, a challenge to which he’d more than risen. 

She was under his control now and despite hating or mistrusting almost all men, she’d been trained over time by him to near perfection, and the beautiful thirty-eight year old woman now pretty much performed for him on demand. 

Ready now, Booker could feel his veins gleaming with steely anticipation.  Before anything else, he stripped and bound and gagged the unresisting and now submissive middle-aged white woman to ensure she could, as was usual in the end, deny him nothing.  She still wore high heels and the flesh-toned nylons that reached high on her firm upper thighs, along with the cream-colored topless bustier that supported the stockings. 

Legs spread and tied wide apart and hands tied to the head of the bed, her exposed nipples were quickly suctioned erect by his mouth and then the base of each breast was tightly wrapped with long, very thin strips of elastic to ensure a trapped blood supply that continually fed the upright nipples.  Her nipples now looked almost like vestal offerings for the clothes pins that were quickly and painfully clamped on each. 

In pain and spread-eagled on her back, silent and almost naked, the thirty-eight year old woman presented multiple sexual opportunities for the black pimp.  Booker wasn't sure what the boyfriend had ultimately planned for this bitch, but it was obvious that he hated her.  Didn't matter to him though, he regularly got to drain his nuts when knocking off a nice piece of white ass and was paid good money at the same time to do it.

But first he had to get her dilated to accomplish what the boyfriend had requested.  The initial dildo was made out of rubber and shaped like a silver bullet, eight inches long and two inches in diameter.  The black man ignored her muffled moans as he knelt between her legs and began to slide it in and out of the captive woman's pussy.  Each time near the bottom, he pushed in ever more firmly, and then held it there for a long moment. 

After a couple of minutes, he had masturbated his reluctant whore with it until the hard rubber glistened with her juices.  In and out, it made a fantastic, erotically wet sound.  Finally, he pushed it in and left her impaled with the first six inches, while the last two inches of silver remained in view between her nude, spread labia.  From there, Booker moved up her body so that he could squeeze her tits until she made deep and panic-filled inhalations through her nose. 

Now for the second piece, another dildo.  But this time six inches long and one inch in diameter.  There was only one remaining place this could go, so he dribbled some baby oil down between her legs and then followed it with his finger until it was over Kate's gristly anal ring.  Her boyfriend had already initiated her to the pleasures of anal sex, so she well knew what was coming.  He began to massage her there, making circles with his finger until the pressure allowed it to sink home.  He looked up quickly as her eyes first bulged in pain and then closed her in utter humiliation, and red spots of shame burned on each cheek.  After a moment, the woman then groaned softly as she turned her face away from him in embarrassment at being used so casually. 

Booker pushed his finger in and out for a while until he sensed that the protective muscles had relaxed and then he placed the rounded end of the anal dildo over Kate's asshole.  Applying constant pressure, Booker moved the blunt end around until it finally separated her sphincter and began to penetrate her body, then he slowly pushed it home until it met resistance....this evoked another long, drawn-out groan from the bound captive, but belly deep this time with anguish and humiliation.  Now he fucked both holes at the same time, and soon she fit sloppily around each of them.  No matter that her eyes told him how much she hated him and what he did to her, he was not yet finished with her.

The next part came at her boyfriend’s request, and it was meant to cause the woman nothing but maximum humiliation and undiluted shame.  He leaned over her bound legs and allowed his weight to pin her knees in place.  Booker quickly poured oil over his right hand and removed the dildo from Kate's pussy.  Before her muscles could begin to contract, he had his four pointed fingers poised at the entrance to her wet, reddened slit.  He carefully separated her engorged labia and began pushing in, holding the pressure as his fingers were slowly allowed inside Kate's body.  He released the pressure, resumed pushing, released and pushed again, over and over, until he was in up to his knuckles.  The bound woman was bucking mightily, mewling her massive pain again and again through the gag that filled her mouth, but nothing could stop him at this point.  Shifting focus for a second, he gave the dildo in her ass a push and it went in another inch. 

By His Hand Alone or All Good Girls Get Fist-Fucked In The End

At the same time, he began a twisting, screwing motion with his fist….and that did it.  Suddenly, he was on the far side of "the door" that had up to now protected her femininity, he was beyond "that point" in her body that had never been explored like this; his fist now smoothly glided inside Kate almost up to his wrist.  She felt spongy and wet and hot and tight inside, and he could feel her vaginal muscles frantically contracting against him, trying to expel him. 

The woman began bucking again, but hard this time, drawing herself up into an arch that left only her heels and the back of her head touching the mattress.  She held that position for a second and then screamed her pain and rage into the gag as she collapsed back onto the bed and her bound heels beat a helpless tattoo against the nasty mattress.  But nothing saved the woman from being ravaged as he shaped his hand into a real fist now and rotated it inside her womb. 

Then it was time for Booker to take some one-handed pictures.  He lifted her ass off of the bed again using only the wrist that was still so deeply buried in her pelvis; he used this as an impromptu handle to hold her hips aloft.  The stupid bitch no longer tried to hide her face from the camera; given all the other pictures he already possessed, she knew her pathetic attempts at anonymity only gave him more pleasure.  Besides, she was aware that he already had enough photos to destroy her life; a few more would make no real difference.

He also knew that he’d hurt the bitch when he’d lifted her up by her hips with nothing but a curling motion of his forearm, but he didn’t care.  Finished for now, Booker slowly lowered her tight, white ass back onto the mattress and then removed his hand along with the anal plug before untying her and removing the gag. 

Humiliated, exhausted, in real pain, his victim lay flat on her back with her eyes closed, trying to control her breathing.  Finally, she looked up at him with tears in her beautiful blue eyes.  She opened her mouth once to speak, and then closed it again without making a sound. 

He looked down, staring defiantly, directly into Kate's red, tear-stained eyes, challenging her to say something, anything.  Wisely, the woman kept her mouth shut.  He knew that only she could appreciate the true feeling of everything he'd done inside her.  He preferred to imagine she had screamed with excitement as her body contorted with an orgasm rather than in pain, but in the end, he really didn't care.

Finished for the moment with humiliating the thirty-eight year old woman, the man now released her after freeing her breasts and nipples. 

Kate lay on the bed, her face red with embarrassment and tears silently rolling off her cheeks.  After a few minutes, she regained control and took a final deep breath.  She ached so terribly between her legs that she barely registered the pain of her breasts and nipples.  She prayed the nightmare was over; that she could just could go home and once more try to maintain her sanity. 

Suddenly, she realized that she was almost naked and that the cheap un-insulated hotel room was cold; and she was cold.  He’d left her wearing almost nothing and she felt every draft that worked itself around the single window.  She sat up in bed, crossed her legs at the ankles and covered her chest with one arm.  She wanted more clothing, but knew that Booker had not yet reached that part of this particular kabuki dance. 

It looked to Booker like she had regained a little control....she really was a tough old bitch and he would have enjoyed knowing her ten or fifteen years ago when she’d have been a prime-time piece of ass.  He sighed to himself; it was time to get back to work.  Although her face showed shock at understanding that he had additional demands, she was unresisting as he pushed her back onto the bed and began to stroke her softly, touching her in the intimate places he had already defiled. 

Mind frozen with helpless humiliation and desperation, nipples still throbbing from having been so tightly bound and then clamped, Kate lay stiff beneath his wandering, busy, experienced fingers.  Her vagina was terribly sore from what he’d just done; he was absolutely crazy if he thought he could force her to be here, then torture her sexually AND make her enjoy it too.  But his fingertip inside her aching vagina continued its long stroking motions.  Locked against the inside of her pelvic bone as if made of a magnet unerringly attracted only to the pads and buttons of potentially erotic feminine flesh. 

He rubbed the most sensitive area on the inside of her pelvis with an insistent fingertip; a soft yet demanding motion that would not take no for an answer.  Kate finally closed her thighs around his hand and sat half upright in an attempt to pin and silence the wrist that now plundered her body.  The silent look of desperation on her face beseeched him to stop, but his malevolent glare in response was merciless.  Soon, Kate sobbed with humiliation as she released him once more to continue his obscene acts.

Forcing herself to remain still while he masturbated her, she suddenly knew the terrible intimacy of a man searching for, discovering, and finally attempting to control a woman through her G-spot.  When she satisfied herself in the privacy of her bedroom, Kate sometimes used a special vibrator that was designed to do just what he did to her now; but Lord, it felt so different, so totally different when someone else did it to her. 

He now pulled out his vibrator and it was the same model as hers; Kate knew this too was no coincidence.  His manipulations within her vagina seemed to go on and on, never ending.  Kate had denied him any success so far.  But she was a normal, healthy woman and knew that if he had not fisted her first, eventually the sensations she felt might have morphed her feelings from disgust towards the man that controlled her to despair at the betrayal of her body.  But with a feeling of having won a major battle because of the ache in her pelvis, Kate knew there was no fear of that ever happening now.

Kate felt no attraction at all towards this monster, but was human enough, and enough of a realist, to acknowledge that sometimes she felt weak around him.  In fact, she was often filled with the shame of despair at her weaknesses; she knew that she was not a wanton woman, not a woman to be passed around like a party favor.  So why had God allowed this to happen to her?  Angry, embarrassed, frustrated, she desperately clung to the small spot of sanity in her mind, even as she ignored his continued manipulations. 

But the black man still would not stop.  And when he became bored or had just had enough of controlling her this time, he mounted her and brutally plunged into her wet, aching, hugely stretched vagina.  With a horrified sense of finality, Kate forced herself to endure the feeling of being filled by such a pathetic specimen of manhood such as this. 

Crushed by sudden pain from her suffering body, total revulsion overwhelmed her.

Playtime finished, Booker now got down to that which he excelled.  Buckling her legs up and out over his shoulders to expose what he craved, he was bear-like and diligent in his quest to dominate and subjugate the helpless female.  The black man hovered over the unresisting woman, his big square shoulders jolting with each thrust, his brown eyes locked with her blue ones, unblinking and darkening as he seemed to meditate upon sinking to the hilt into a hot and juicy, yet still sloppily reluctant cunt.

Kate felt the aching muscles in her pussy involuntarily tighten around him as the tip of his shaft speared her womb.  He began a deep rhythmic stroke and the feelings only intensified as the ridges on his long shaft gave her multiple sensations as it plunged in and out of her body.

There was no reason for her to let him affect her psychologically.  She tried to deny his effect on her, to stoically accept what he made her take from him, but for some reason she still felt humiliated by how the man saw her, by what he so obviously thought of her.  Her long shapely legs were spread wide and locked, frozen in place with her ankles draped over his shoulders and knees pushed hard into her chest, her hands clenched by her sides again, clenched until she felt her nails cut into her palms as she concentrated on anything but what he did to her. 

But he kept riding her, always keeping a high seat on her belly so that his cock continually rubbed against her clit as it moved in and out of her body.  Booker, the past master of other women's bodies, created what at any other time might have been a perfectly wonderful symphony of feelings and sensations inside her body.  But hatred for him made it so remarkably easy to refuse any response to his need and so she remained motionless and unresponsive beneath him as she endured until he’d finished. 

Both were satisfied at the end; she felt a small satisfaction at having denied him any victory over her one more time, while he was greatly satisfied at having, once more, taken everything he wanted from the reluctant woman.  She was HIS piece of ass, and he had just proved it again. 

The room was quite dark now and Kate thankfully knew it was almost over.  She was in the usual position that he demanded at the finish; on her knees, her face pushed directly into of his groin.  She was sore between her legs from what he had done to her, and the shame of being used like a crack whore in this cheap hotel room was balanced only by the welcome fact that it was almost over for today, that she could soon go home and take a long bath in her never-ending efforts to remove any traces he might have left on her body. 

She reluctantly closed her lips around his soft manhood and began sucking.  His hands used the hair on either side of her head to steer her face and she quickly got into the rhythm his hips demanded.  As he firmed and grew, his erection went further and further down her throat.  She had been a quick learner and he had greatly reduced her gag reflex over a relatively short time.  He had become more and more insistent over the last few weeks, working hard at overcoming her initial unwillingness and lack of experience and forcing her to learn to take his whole length with little or no gagging.  But mostly, he truly enjoyed the way that her eyes still fill with tears of shame as he deep-throated the now totally submissive bitch. 

Black Bone, White Flesh or Evil Never Dies, It Just Changes Faces

No one saw them coming.  The two big black men stood in the dim light outside Room 29 and listened for a while.  Low, faint voices from inside, one commanding and the other submissive, soft sound of bed springs being given a workout accompanied by the occasional feminine groan.  The door was heavy for a cheap hotel like this and well set in a solid frame, but the lock was ridiculous.  One man reached out and tested the knob.  It was always a good idea to check and see if the door was actually locked; nothing made a man feel more silly than trying to kick in a door that wasn’t locked. 

The second man stepped back and took a small Sony digital camera out of his pocket and held it in his left hand.  After setting himself, the first man breathed inward for a moment, and then lunged forward, his foot up and heel out, striking the door an inch below the door knob.  The door slammed open and they were in the dank, half-lit room.

A small bed in the corner, a rusty sink, some cheap vinyl furniture, a bedside lamp and two figures, both naked and shiny with sweat, frozen in position. 

The camera started, running off a series of rapid shots.  Each flash lit up the room like a bolt of lightning, turning the figures into a kind of silent, jittery movie of frantic motion: the big black man sitting on the edge of the bed, the almost naked white woman on her knees with her face buried in his crotch, his hands filled with hair on either side of her head.  Nothing showed of the man’s erection, for the woman had obviously taken almost the whole length in her mouth. 

Darkness. 

Another flash; both occupants were looking at them now, the man’s massive, wet erection pointing into the air, the wide eyes of the beautiful woman on her knees in front of him, her chin shiny with the drool and saliva that were occupational hazards of giving blowjobs, mascara run into long black lines from tears caused by his lunges down her throat, her irises lit camera-red as she stared in opened-mouthed shock and confusion at the camera. 

Then blackness and another flash; the man and the woman breaking apart, the stockings on her long legs reflecting shiny highlights from the tautly stretched nylon held up by the topless, light-colored bustier that so perfectly framed her firm breasts. 

Blackness and another flash; the woman caught frozen with terror, fumbling at her clothes, the naked black man standing up and moving towards the corner of the room. 

Blackness and another flash; the woman flying towards the door. 

The man snapped a final shot and then kicked the door shut behind him, trapping her in front of him.  He turned the light on then and looked at his prey; she was theirs for the taking.  A beautifully mature, hard-bodied woman pretty much clearly and professionally free of those pesky gag reflexes. 

He pulled a knife and moved an unresisting Booker face first into the corner, then down on his knees with his hands clasped behind his head. 

After a moment, Booker heard the woman say behind him, “God, no.  No, PLEASE!” 

There was the sound of a hard slap and then a feminine sob.  “Booker.  Help me.  Please!  Don’t let them do this to me.”

One of the men said, “Come on whitey, you take it from him, bitch; you’ll take cock from us too.”

It was a dangerous situation.  A street smart man, Booker never moved as he heard a quick zipper unwind and then the woman behind him sobbed again.  She gasped, but whether in pain or shock, he did not know.  He heard her face being slapped once more, and then suddenly he heard the soft rhythmic smacking sound of flesh on flesh as the man slapped her face with disgust using just his erection.  He heard her cry out softly and then gag once as the first man filled her mouth with fresh meat. 

The first black man’s hand was locked at the base of his cock, measuring how much meat he could push into the woman’s mouth.  Clearly surprised after a moment, he realized that although she was gagging every now and then, she was well-trained enough to be able to take every inch of his meat like a professional mouth-whore.  He let go of his dick and began driving all the way into her mouth.  "I guess that's deep enough," the man laughed.  "Now I’ve a nice little gauge – I only need to stop when my balls are touching her chin," he joked as he slowly began pumping her face with a slow rhythmic motion. 

Mascara running from her tears, without being told the reluctant woman sucked on him for at least five minutes.  Then he used a hand full of her hair to keep her face where he wanted it while pulled his meat mostly out of her mouth and began to stroke it with his other hand.  After only a couple of minutes, the black man grunted, "I’m gonna cum." 

His hand was nearly a blur as he reached the short strokes that allowed him to get off.  He was getting close to reaching an orgasm and was preparing to unload his nuts into the bitch’s mouth.  "Stick out your tongue," he ordered, pulling the tip of his spit covered cock from between her lips. "Do it NOW!" 

The woman’s mind appeared numb as she fearfully complied and opened her mouth, knowing full well the consequences if she didn't obey.  Suddenly, the man stopped as, accompanied by a long low growl deep in his throat, strings of thick white semen began to shoot from his cock.

"Oh yeah, fuuuuck yeah," the man groaned in satisfaction, as the first shot of cum flew from his cock like a long viscous thread.  Kate flinched as it landed across her gorgeous face, nearly hitting her in the eye.  "Uuugh ya, ugh" he grunted again as another load came flying out, and landed in her hair, and across the top of her ear. 

"SHIT, I missed" he moaned in pleasure.  He really wanted to cum in the white bitch’s mouth, not all over her face.  As the last couple of globs of semen oozed from his dick, he held his cock over Kate's still waiting tongue and squeezed the remaining thick white viscous fluid onto it.  He used his softening erection to scrape cum off of her face and into her waiting mouth and then stuck his cock back in her mouth too.  "Eat it, you nasty whore" he said, as the last glob of slimy sperm dripped directly onto its intended target.  

Kate had frozen in fear, but it didn’t matter now for the man quickly stuffed his still semi-rigid cock back into her mouth and pinched her nose closed with his thumb and forefinger.  "Lick it and swallow it, you cunt," he ordered, "swallow it all."  With her head still tilted backwards, and not being able to breath, it was difficult but somehow she managed. 

Kate felt sickened with the musty taste and slimy texture of the semen that now coated the inside of her mouth, including her teeth and tongue.  She wanted to vomit, but managed to contain herself.  "Ummm, mmmmm," she moaned in disgust, trying her best to pull away from the intruding shaft that slid back into her mouth and invaded so deeply down her throat.  "Ughhhh uuugggg," she gagged.

Crying from frustration even as her mind began shutting down, face burning with sexual humiliation, mouth filled with pulsating, softening black cock-meat, Kate thought about spitting out his semen for a moment, but fearfully decided in the end that it was in her best interest to obey him, to swallow it like she had been ordered.  As she did, she gagged slightly on the gooey liquid as it slowly ran down her throat.  The foul salty taste that coated her tongue sickened her, but at this point she had no choice but to comply with their demands.

Neither of them saw the second man standing behind Booker as he took almost fifty camera shots of the two on the bed, for the room was well enough lit now that the flash was unnecessary.  Although it may have seemed an eternity to the woman, the first man lasted little more than five minutes before he groaned in satisfaction and Booker heard Kate softly cry out in horror and misery as he ejaculated on her face and inside her mouth.  When the first man had finished getting his nuts off with the despairing woman, the second was eagerly awaited his turn and within seconds the bedsprings were singing their song of love.  Again, more pictures were taken of Kate, this time of her being fucked by the second man.

In the meantime, the first man went through Booker’s pants and wallet, removing any money he had.  Booker had not said a word the whole time.  The man said, “Brother, you don’ want no trouble, you better move on.  We ain’t hurting the whore….ain’t gonna’ give her nothing she ain’t had a million times before.  We’ll let the whore go when we’re done with her.  You just keep this shit to yourself and no one’ll get hurt.”

Without a look back, Booker quickly dressed and moved out of the awful hotel room.

The Latest In A Long String of Black Lovers or She’d Obviously Been Boned Into Submission

The second man just wanted to fuck the white bitch’s pussy.  He slapped her cum covered face, pushed her onto her back on the bed, climbed between her gorgeous legs that he’d spread so wide and pushed himself into her wet, sloppy, stretched out vagina…..man, the first dude had obviously fucked the shit out of her.  It didn’t take long and the nasty whore was already moist; even though she did not move under him, he thought she might even be enjoying it.  He drilled her for about ten minutes of heaven, but could see that his partner was becoming impatient after having gotten rid of her pimp. 

"Hold off," he barked, “you'll get your chance again soon enough.”   And he was right; it would only be another minute before his balls had reached maximum excitation.  Grabbing the beautiful white woman's hips, he slid up onto his knees, and raised her legs slightly, giving him easier access to her hot, wet cunt.  Reaching down between her legs, he pealed her labia apart, exposing her clit as he continued fucking her. 

That was all he could take - the sight of his bloated, purple-black cock slipping in and out of her hot, wet, pink inner flesh.  His cock exploded within thirty seconds of laying her bare, sending wave after wave of milky, silky-slick cum into her already sopping wet vagina.  "Ughhhhh, fu-uu-uu-uuck that feels good," he groaned in a long, low growl of pleasure.  His cock twitched and jumped again, shooting another load of scalding hot semen into the woman's well-used love box. 

He held onto her tightly, as sensation after pleasurable sensation swept through him, forcing his cock more deeply into the beautiful woman as the last drops of his cum finally entered her body.  "Shhiiit, that felt good," he moaned softly as he pulled out his quickly softening organ and squeezed one last remaining droplet of semen onto her freshly shaved pubic mound.

"Man, this bitch is hot.  Roll her over;" the first man said excitedly, "I want to fuck that hot, white ass of hers."

Adrenaline obviously pumping wildly now, for the first time the whore fought against them, trying to push both men away from her.  "Oh no....oh God, please NO...please NO," the white woman cried out.  "P-please not that!"

The sounds of the fight were soft and never left the confines of the tawdry hotel room, but it was over quickly.  Both of them beat the woman into submission as she fought them wildly for a moment, but it was quickly clear that she was no match for the two very determined men.  In the end, they successfully rolled her over onto her stomach.  One of the men posed her with her face driven in the mattress, and she suddenly froze in that obscene position.  The other man hit her head again, and when he pulled on her hair, she reluctantly but obediently rose up onto her hands and knees, far enough to get her ready for the first man. 

She never stopped begging them softly, "NOOOO P-PLEASE...OH GOD...NOOOOO, PLEASE STOP ... LEAVE ME ALONE...." her voice died as it choked with sobs.

"Shut UP, you bitch!" the first man leered into her face.  "If you don't shut your FUCKING mouth, we're gonna have to gag you with something," he warned, “and you definitely won’t like that.” 

The threatening hip thrust he gave Kate was enough to quiet her for a moment - she didn't want to have another man in her mouth for the rest of her life after this.  Now, they were finally ready; a terrified yet silently obedient Kate knelt on hands and knees in the middle of the mattress, waiting, tears streaming down her cheeks as she tried to prepare herself mentally for what was to come next.  Her hair hung down around her face, covering her tears and her mouth that already hung open in a silent scream of coming anguish. 

Intellectually, Kate KNEW she was capable of handling the coming discomfort and humiliation --- she and Jimmy had already proved that.  But emotionally, what these men did to her in this room, what Booker had turned her into, it all forced her to lose everything that truly mattered; her reputation and honor, all personal responsibility, the way she looked at herself….her femininity…..her very humanity. 

As the first man got on his knees behind the white woman they’d taken and prepared to stuff his once more erect cock into her from the rear, the other man loomed over her head, savoring the helpless look on the woman’s face as she finally accepted her starring role in the coming ordeal.  Eyes squeezed tightly shut now in horrified anticipation, her clenched fists gripping a blanket, every nuance of her posture made it clear the woman knew she was about to feel pain like no other, would be humiliated in a way that surpassed all others for a woman like her.  The woman jumped when the man stuck two fingers into her wet, cum-soaked pussy - she clearly hadn't expected that.  He carefully scooped out a glob of slimy cum from her well-drilled fuck hole and wiped the cold, velvety-slick fluid on her puckered anus…..and on his rock-hard erection.

The woman moaned again in horrified anticipation once more as the man moved in closer, spread her buttocks wide apart and pushed the bulbous head of his cock firmly between her cheeks and against her butt hole.  The smell of semen and wet pussy filled the cheesy hotel room as the second man prepared to watch the ass reaming about to take place.

"Here it comes, baby," the sodomizer warned, barely giving her time to prepare for what would happen in the next few seconds.  Then, he suddenly stabbed the tip of his well lubed cock into the woman’s rear end in one swift move.  Gasping both from pain and shock, the white woman arched her back, trying to escape from the thick black snake-like monster that had only begun its invasion of her lower body.  But it was no use, the man stabbed his salami-sized cock back in again, penetrating even further this time. 

She Had A Well-Turned Ass or She Knew Now She Would Never Be Free

Upon full penetration of her sphincter, the man then slowed down his impalement of the woman, giving her plenty of time to enjoy every additional inch he slipped into her ass.  Even though the bitch knew what was happening and had probably even enjoyed doing it with other men, this time it was different.  He was NOT her lover and he only wanted to use her, to force her to accept whatever he deigned to give her.  The cunt had not been lovingly dilated or prepared, and his penetration literally took her breath away.  The black man pushed his massive organ into their captive, stretching the walls of her colon to the limit as he entered her beautiful, tight body.  Forced to her hands and knees in order to accept him, the white bitch gasped with the sudden, sharp agony of her lower body being filled as the man slowly, but inexorably, shoved at least seven more inches of man-meat into her tight, unprepared anal canal.

"Sha….yeo-man" he groaned," he groaned.  “Fuck bitch, damn, DAMN!!!  I love white bitches with tight asses."

"OoooowwwWW....GOD....ooowww," the woman moaned softly as the man penetrated her tightly clenched sphincter, plunging himself more deeply into her colon.  The sudden pain seemed shocking to her, almost unbearable.  "OH GOD....it--it h-HURTS.  It’s too much!  I…I can’t breathe," their bitch cried in true agony, pleading with him to remove himself from her body. 

The man standing next to her head only laughed at her obvious distress; the arrogant bitch didn’t look too elegant or stuck-up now.  But the man inside Kate had other ideas - Oh yes, the gorgeous bitch may have at first thought she was better than any of them, but he was going to show her just what he thought of her.  He fully intended to fuck her ass until he put a second load deep inside her wonderful butt.  He’d already cum once in her mouth, so the bitch was in for one hell of a ride before he’d be able to cum again.  She was in for a ride she wouldn’t forget for a while. 

"Oh yeah, BABY" he moaned. "I'm gonna fuck you so hard, your momma’s gonna feel it," he alternately laughed and threatened, as he pumped in and out of her anus.

"Oooohhhhh my G-GOD it hurts....p-please STOP....take it OUT OF MEEEEEeeee," Kate continued to beg softly, but uselessly.  

But it didn’t matter, the man was so filled with lust for the white bitch that he didn't give a fuck how much he hurt her - he was going to get off in this one’s ass, no matter what she said or how much pain it caused her.  Grabbing her hips, he started fucking her ass faster and faster, and each time doing his best to push his cock further and deeper inside her body.  The white whore was completely under his control as she continually grunted and shuddered from both the intense pain and her abject humiliation at being treated like an impersonal, artificial fuck-toy.

The woman gave soft, belly-deep pig-like grunts of pain and horror after one particularly vicious thrust finally brought him back to his senses.  The man standing snorted with humor at the bitch.  But the man on his knees just gave a wolfish smile at the sounds he had just driven out of her body.  Giving even harder, more brutal thrusts, he purposely succeeded in making her squeal in pain again and again, but this time the pig noises she made were sloppier, wetter, altogether deeper and more ”honest” than before.  God, it felt so GOOD to be alive and giving it to a whore like this!!

"Okay, that's it," the man fucking her called out after driving out another grunting round of pig-squeals.  "Gonna have to gag the bitch.  Come on over here, man....you need to check out this bitches cock sucking skills one more time," he said.

Kate heard what he said, but at this point, it didn't matter anymore – she was wrecked, totally broken – her spirit gone, all self-respect destroyed, and as far as she was concerned, she just wanted to die now…….they could fuck her to death if they wanted, as long as allowed her to die afterwards.  And they could go on fucking her dead body long after that; she wouldn’t be around to care anymore. 

Her mind wondered off into a dark, dark place.  Oh yes, Kate had already experienced Booker in all the ways he could destroy a woman and she knew what was happening to her now, but she suddenly felt no pain, just the rhythmic pounding of the man’s pelvis against her butt cheeks and an occasional hand groping one of her breasts as they swayed and jiggled below her.

Time had no meaning for Kate now – or for the memory of being Kate.  She had no body but retained a consciousness somehow, somewhere.  There was a minor sense of motion now, but only of motion received, of being acted upon rather than initiating it, but that might only be a memory.  But remembering somehow created a few things.  A hand, a foot, what made her a woman.  Remembering what made her a woman resulted in the sensations there, a painful aching, tearing, throbbing sensation.  Memory of an awful time condensed into the patch of flesh and blood that was her. 

The man standing near her head pushed his cock towards Kate's open mouth and then past her lips.  "Ohhhh ya," he moaned, feeling the wet heat of her mouth against his erection.  But he quickly became annoyed at her lack of cooperation; he was inside her mouth, but she wouldn’t suck, wouldn’t move her head up and down for him.  Frustrated, he grabbed a handful of long black hair on both sides of her head and slowly bobbed her head up and down on his cock, being careful not to jam it down so far as to cause her to choke on it.  It didn't take long until his cock suddenly exploded in her mouth again, sending a large glob of his salty fluid to back of her throat. 

Still on her hands and knees, Kate began to retch uncontrollably.  With every retching move she made, the man filling her ass groaned with pleasure as she also inadvertently clamped down with her rectal muscles on his fully buried erection.  Somehow, she managed not to vomit around the massive penis that filled her mouth as the man pumped his remaining load down her throat.  Still in an almost trance-like state and staring blankly at the stained sheets that swam unfocused before her eyes, Kate let the cum ooze from her open mouth after the man’s cock finally slipped out.  The whole while, the man on his knees at the back of her hips never once stopped his rhythmic spearing of her lower body. 

Ten minutes of fucking this white bitch's tight ass was really getting to him and his balls were about to explode.  He’d had a lot of women in his life, but had never felt a hole gripping his cock as tightly as did this whore’s.  And the feeling was simply amazing.

"Oh ya, Baby.  I'm gonna dump my load into your oh-so-elegant white ass, you fucking whore," he groaned, his mind overcome with pleasure. 

He gave another quick jerk of his hips into her buttocks, "Here it comes, bitch." 

His nut sack was pulled up and tight against his crotch, the cum ready to explode out.  "Oh Gaawd," he moaned in pleasure as his cock vibrated and pulsed inside the captive woman’s body and his hips involuntarily bucked forward again, and then again, sending his penis a quarter of an inch at a time deeper into Kate’s rectum.  The physical feeling of this woman unwillingly crouched beneath him, the smell of her hot wet well-used sex that filled the room, the sight of the stripes and minor bruises from her having been whipped on her ass-cheeks, the small amount of blood around the base of his cock as he drilled her ass, the feel of his blood beating through his veins….. 

It was all linked tightly together into a world of pleasure that he had created just for himself. 

The first shot of his cum entered her bowels, deep within her somehow still tight hole.  Suddenly brought back to a humiliating and shameful reality by his last deep jab into her, Kate somehow felt or imagined the warmth of his seminal fluid as it exploded into her rectum.  The man froze then, allowing her to feel every pulse and twitch and vibration of his rock hard cock as he pumped his final load of sperm into her waiting body. 

Unbelievably, his continuing stillness and the warmth of his ejaculation somehow relieved a little of the pain he had given her - the slimy hot cum that flooded her colon almost seemed to act as a medicated balm that had been delivered deeply inside her.  It was as though it had been done to sooth her - to comfort her in her time of shame – rather than to despoil her.  But the black man clearly hadn’t cum in her ass to help her; he was instead just fulfilling an ancient genetic drive to spread his seed to any available woman.  And this one had definitely been available, even if they’d had to knock her around a little first.

Pulling out slightly, the man looked down at his shaft, still half-buried in the puckered pink-brown ring of Kate’s anus.  The two of them had done a lot of fucking with this bitch over the last couple hour.  He was exhausted and smiled tiredly as he admired the way her brown whorl of flesh was still so tightly wrapped around him.  Suddenly, another, final, wave of cum jetted from the tip of his cock and into her beautiful butt.  "Oh yeah," he groaned softly with pleasure under his breath and then almost absent-mindedly withdrew from her body and sat back on his haunches to catch his breath.  

The bitch really was an outstanding piece of ass.  Even though they’d made sure she was a well-fucked whore, it was still easy to admire the hot, expensive-looking white bitch that still remained bent over in front of him.  Motionless on her hands and knees, he suddenly realized that the well-trained slut was still waiting for permission to move. 

"Check out her asshole," he laughed to the other man, as it stared him in the face.  After the fucking he had just given her, and the way he’d stretched her sphincter muscles, her anus was almost spasming in a way that made it look like the mouth of a fish gasping for air.

"Look,” he jeered again, “you can see her tonsils from here."  Both men burst out in laughter.

Kate had never felt so humiliated, so filled with shame in her life.  Never before had she felt so degraded, her value as a person, as a woman, reduced to nothingness like this.

The rape went on for another hour.  They fucked her hard some more and they hit her in the face and in her stomach, but rather more softly now.  They hit her not in an effort to make her more obedient, for she already was, but rather because they just liked to hit women, especially white women. 

Both men had liked her position when they’d first entered the room, so at the end, when each of them was totally spent and couldn’t get it up anymore even if their lives depended upon it they too finished with the woman on her knees, desperately sucking them off one final time.  Although exhausted, the whore clearly had had a lot experience and performed like a pro and the men were both quite pleased with themselves. 

A terrified Kate performed well at the end of that horrible day, deep-throating each man multiple times.  Of course, it didn’t matter that she’d been physically beaten, that she was psychologically exhausted and emotionally devastated, or that she feared for her life. 

The first man put a small amount of cum in her mouth after ten minutes.  The second man took almost twice that long and it was obvious the whore was running on her last dregs of energy when he poured his final load so deeply down her throat that she just reflexively swallowed his cum without even tasting it.  He then laughed as he slapped her face back and forth with his softening cum-slick cock. 

The last photos they took of Kate that night were photos of her mouth filled with black cock.  The photos of the men slapping her face with their softening cocks were especially erotic.  They dumped her purse at the end and took all of her money and credit cards.  The men left Kate on her knees by the side of the bed, covered with their semen, stunned with shock from their violence, softly sobbing in shame and anguish.  They also took with them all of her clothes except for her jacket and high-heels, and then walked outside and down into the over-heated lobby. 

They Left A Cold Emptiness Inside or She’d Been Thoroughly Broken By A Harsh Lover

Booker was leaning against the wall and stood up straight when they arrived.  The three greeted each other with dabs and smiles, and one gave Booker back his wallet, minus the $500 he had promised them if they would have “rough” sex with the woman in the hotel room. 

Booker smiled to himself.  He had really fucked with the bitch’s mind this time.  He wondered how she would take it.

Abandoned in the terrible hotel room, the exhausted woman was devastated.  Her mind was not working well, so it took a while to realize, but suddenly it didn’t feel merely cool any longer.  It was downright cold in the room.  Being pretty much stark naked presented her with other problems too, since she’d seen them take all of her money and credit cards.  Willing her exhausted body to move, she finally rose from her knees like a zombie and staggered over to the wash basin where she wiped the fresh cum from her face. 

It hurt to move her legs and there was no way she could walk normally.  She looked at herself in the mirror.  Her cheek hurt from where they’d hit her, but she barely felt the pain….thank God none of her teeth had been loosened.  She washed her mouth out for what seemed a thousand times, but it didn’t help for she still felt so dirty.  And there was no way to wash away the horrifying images from her mind. 

She stumbled back to the rape bed holding a wet washcloth against the side of her face.  Even though it filled her with revulsion and disgust, she forced herself to lie upon it once more.  Something seemed to have filled the cold air in the room around her, a terrible, invisible presence that dominated and took away her free will, a massive force that demanded all control of her mind.  It felt like grief and terrible, bitter shame.  Kate tried to wait it out, but it would not leave.  Even though her religion forbade it, for the first time, Kate realistically considered suicide as a way out of the life she now so hated. 

She dully stared at the stained curtains that hid the empty street and listened to the thud of her empty heart.  Immersed within the distant detachment of the sole survivor, she felt a little braver with the men gone, but for the first time in her adult life, Kate felt truly, totally, brutally alone in the world too.  Their thick, silky semen was even now drying, cold and sticky and tacky between her thighs and on her belly, on her face and in her hair, and she couldn’t get their taste out of her mouth.  Kate tried to pretend nothing had really happened here, that what had just happened didn't really mean anything; it had only been on TV and not in reality.  But she couldn't continue lying to herself. 

Loathing herself and her despicable weaknesses, the broken woman lay curled in a tight fetal position on the unmade bed that stank of sweat and sex and violence, and wept softly for what had been taken from her.  Night eventually covered the city, but the soiled and devastated woman lay without moving on the bed, clinging to the dim and formless dream that was her only refuge from the hazy memory of the black men crouched over their victim.

The next morning found the woman sitting naked on the toilet after taking a whore’s bath.  Her foot bounced uncontrollably until she clutched her leg and pounded her thigh.  She would have looked stunning except for one slightly swollen eye and the smudge of lipstick that tapered off the corner of her mouth.  It looked clown-like and intentional, a defacing rather than an accident.  She closed her eyes in misery.  After a moment, a tear trickled from her unbruised eye and she grabbed a tissue and wiped off her lips and chin for perhaps the thousandth time. 

She lurched to her feet and stared out the dirty window.  Her clothes were gone and she had no money; she had no idea how she was going to get home.  The wintry scene could not have looked more bleak or appropriate; a thin snow had fallen the night before and now a bitter wind blew down the deserted street, rattling windows and sending wisps of snow whipping across the frozen ground.  It perfectly fit the way she felt this morning. 

To add to Kate’s humiliation, she had to sneak out of the hotel that morning, but no one noticed the tall, attractive woman leave.  She walked awkwardly, slowly, as if pain.  And she was inappropriately dressed for the cold weather, wearing only a tightly buttoned, mid-thigh length dark-brown coat that she clutched to her stomach and beige five-inch stiletto heeled pumps on bare legs exposed to the cutting wind. 

But if they had looked more closely, they would have seen a woman whose world teetered on the edge of madness.