Message-ID: <4656eli$9710061308@qz.little-neck.ny.us> X-Archived-At: From: pokson@poboxes.com (ars erotica) Subject: The Debt Newsgroups: alt.sex.stories.moderated,alt.sex.stories Followup-To: alt.sex.stories.d Mime-Version: 1.0 Content-Type: text/plain; charset="us-ascii" Path: qz!not-for-mail Organization: The Committee To Thwart Spam Approved: X-Moderator-Contact: Eli the Bearded X-Story-Submission: X-Original-Message-Id: <199710060749.CAA14198@dfw-ix2.ix.netcom.com> Author's note: By and large the mail I get regarding my stories is positive. However, I have been getting a bit of mail telling me that writing about rape is nasty. Well, to each his own. I think stories about a sexual coming-of-age while traveling with Great Aunt Edna are a snooze. Unless of course there's a rape, hahaha. These stories represent fantasy, as does most of the erotica on this forum, I devoutly hope. Like it or not, rape and degradation fantasies are quite common and they aren't sick. In fact, my husband the psychiatrist (yes, I'm female) tells me they're quite healthy, providing a safe outlet as it were. Now if you cross the line and actually rape or degrade someone, that's sick. A healthy person reading and enjoying a fictional story based on rape is no more likely to run out and rape than they are likely to indulge in non-forcible sex with their husband/wife's old fraternity buddies/sorority sisters after reading a story based on the same. So relax and get ready to read another sick rape/degradation story. To those who have written me re: The Brotherhood Files - send me some story ideas and I'll whip some more up. Bit of writer's block there. ***The Debt*** By Ars Erotica I don't know why I'm telling this story. Maybe to assuage my guilt, maybe to just finally be able to get it off my chest. I can never tell my wife what I did to her. She'd never forgive me, and she'd be right. It was all my fault. I'd had a problem, you see, a problem I wouldn't admit to. Gambling. It started off slow, as it always does. A few bucks on the game, penny-ante poker. I won at first, and like all gamblers I began to think I was special. I had a talent for it, I wasn't like those poor slobs who lost everything because not only did I know when to quit, I almost never lost. My wife knew I gambled, but had no idea how serious it had become. Tonya trusted me implicitly, and as I invariably won she never thought much about my gambling. She never knew how bad it had gotten, and still doesn't know how bad it was. All because of the terrible decision I'd had to make. I won't bore you with the details. Let's just say that like all gamblers, my winning streak finally ended. I lost big. And after that big loss I started "chasing", making bets to covers other bets. I hid it from Tonya for quite a while, swung some loans, even forged her signature on the loan applications. After a while I couldn't get a bank to lend me money, I owed too much on too many other loans. I was desperate, willing to do anything. And that's the reason why I got mixed up with Sugar Hill. Sugar was a loan shark, with more connection than a switchboard. One of my gambling buddies told me about him. Sugar could get any amount of money you needed, and I needed a lot. Thirty thousand dollars, to be precise. Sounded good to me - I'd borrow from Sugar, pay off all my debts then make one last, big bet to pay Sugar off. I had a month's time to repay, and I thought I could do it. Needless to say, I didn't make the deadline. And one fine April day, two large black men intercepted me in the parking lot of my work as I was leaving for home and brought me to talk to Sugar. His goons dragged me into the hotel suite Sugar used for an office. He was sitting on a couch in the living room, waiting for me. He motioned for the goons to leave and they did. I was scared shitless. I thought he was going to kill me, but not without a good beating first. Sugar was a huge man, almost seven feet tall and had to weigh nearly 400 lbs, every inch of him shining black. He'd kick the shit out of my scrawny, 5'8", 130 lb ass in no time, I thought. Sugar motioned for me to sit down on the couch opposite him. A coffee table, bare except for a single folder, separated us. I sat there sweating, ready to shit my pants. He reached forward, picked up and opened the folder, looked at it then at me. Finally, he spoke. "So, Mr. Fred Benson. I understand you are two months behind in repaying me some $50,000." "Wha...?" I squeaked. "I only owe you $30,000!" Sugar grinned at me, exposing startlingly white teeth. "No, I'm afraid that with interest and penalties for lateness you owe me an extra twenty K," he said in his deep, resonant voice. I'd forgotten about that. "Please ... please," I begged. "Give me some more time. I can cover it. Just don't kill me. I can't pay you back if I'm dead! And I don't even have any insurance or real estate - I'm worthless!" I was crying by that point. This man was going to kill me, and Tonya would be left alone. Sugar surprised me though. He merely grinned again and said "Well Fred, you do have one asset. Your lovely wife, Tonya." He threw the folder at me, and told me to look in it. Inside was a big picture of Tonya. It was a great picture of her at our apartment complex pool. It showed off her tall, shapely tanned body, her lovely dark hair and beautiful face. There was also a sheet of information on her - age, birthdate, stuff like that. I scanned it quickly, then looked at Sugar. My quizzical expression must have told him that I didn't understand, because he began to explain. "Look, white boy. You got yourself a fine woman there. Finest I've seen in a long time. I want her. Not to keep, mind you, but I want her." "NO!" I shouted, leaping up. "You leave her alone! She's not involved in this - you do what you want with me and leave her out of this! I'll get your money, just leave my wife alone!" Sugar slowly stood up, towering over me. "Sit down, white boy," he ordered. I complied meekly. "You ain't got much choice in this matter. You got two choices. Either you let me fuck your wife or I'll just kill her. That's it. I don't want my money back, an' I ain't taking it even if you got it. Make your choice, white boy. Let me fuck your wife or let me kill her. Don't even think of going to no cops. If you do she dies anyway. You should know that I have friends in high places, and I won't get arrested if you talk. You got five minutes to decide". It was the longest five minutes of my life. What could I do? He was right - no cop would dare touch him. He was a legend around here, and owned every cop on the force. He had all kinds of connections, and someday he'd make good on his threat even if it took him years. I had only one choice to make. "Okay," I whispered at the four minute mark. "You can ... you can ... fuck her." "Glad to see you wised up, white boy," Sugar smirked. "Now, don't you worry none about when it's gonna happen. I ain't telling you. You go home to that pretty wife of yours and don't get any funny ideas bout moving cause I'll find you. Now get the hell out of here." I did as he said and left. I couldn't even look at Tonya when I got home. She was so beautiful, so trusting and loved me, and I had just sold her to a loan shark. I mumbled something about a terrible headache, and went straight to bed, even though it wasn't yet six o'clock. I thought I'd get some sleep and then figure out a way out of this mess. Surely I had a little time. Sugar would tell me when it was supposed to happen, wouldn't he? Tonya finally came to bed around ten or so. I hadn't been able to sleep, but feigned it when she got in bed. I couldn't face talking to her, not then. In the morning I'd tell her everything, and we'd work it out together. She'd understand. she knew something was amiss, I had barely spoken to her in weeks, nor had we gone out in weeks either. We hadn't made love in over a month. I was too preoccupied with my problems. I never got the chance. Right around 2 am I was jerked from the bed. Large hands battered me about as they slapped duct tape on my mouth and hogtied me. The room was suddenly flooded with light, and through the glare I saw Tonya trying to get up. A huge black man, wearing a stocking mask hovered over her. Oh my God, I thought. It was Sugar, coming to collect his debt. Two other men stood by our bed, probably some of his goons. One slapped duct tape over Tonya's mouth, but she still tried to scream. "Shuddup, bitch!" Sugar growled at her. "Keep on making noise like that and I'll kill your man. Leroy, " he gestured to the goon closest to me, "Get on it!" The good pulled a knife and held it to my throat. Tonya's eyes widened in fear, and she settled down. God, I felt like shit. My beautiful wife was going to be taken by this man, and she shut up because she didn't want ME to be hurt! Sugar didn't waste any time. He motioned to the other good, who immediately tied Tonya's hands over her head to the headboard. Sugar busied himself by cutting off Tonya's nightdress with a long, wicked looking knife. He ripped her panties off with his bare hands. Lying next to her as I was, I could hear her small moans of fear. Her eyes were screwed shut. She knew what was going to happen. She knew she was going to be raped. Once Sugar had her panties off, he immediately unzipped his fly. My God, I thought. He was huge! Much bigger than my modest six inches, and much thicker than me too. He fell on top of my wife. The mattress moved with his weight. Tonya began to cry as Sugar fondled her body. I lay there helplessly as he sucked at her breasts. I tried to shut my eyes, but the goon holding the knife whispered in my ear that Sugar wanted me to watch, or Tonya would die. The bastard wanted me to watch him rape my wife! But what choice did I have? None. I lay there and watched as he slavered over her breasts. I watched him as he lay his huge cock in between my wife's breasts and ground himself between them. I watched as he ripped the tape of her mouth and rammed his huge black prick into her mouth, working in and out for what seemed like ages. And then I watched as he roughly shoved her legs apart, mounted my wife, and plunged into her. I heard Tonya's muffled shriek of pain as the black man entered her. I felt our bed shake as he began to pump away furiously inside my beautiful wife. I watched his buttocks rise and fall in rhythm as he pounded himself in and out of my wife. I heard his grunts of pleasure, and listened to him moan his ecstasy as he raped my wife. "Oh yeah ... that's it baby ... damn fine piece of ass!" he gasped to her. I watched while he covered her face and neck with kisses as he boned her silly. I smelled his sweat, and felt our bed rock in response to his powerful thrusts. I watched for what seemed to be hours until his movements grew more frantic, and with a final moan he drove himself deep inside her and came. Sugar and two goons left right after Sugar got off of my wife. They left us tied there. And there we stayed until late the next evening, when Tonya's sister Amy (who had a key) came by, worried because Tonya hadn't shown up for the dinner date they'd planned. I don't remember much of that time. The cops came, we went to the hospital, we gave our statements and of course I didn't say what I knew. It was too late to change anything. A week after my wife was raped, I found a receipt on my car window. It was from Sugar, saying my debt had been paid off. There it was. Now all I could do was to get on with my life. We were in counseling, and Tonya was doing better. We'd go on, we'd make it through this. Seeing my wife raped because of my stupid addiction was enough to make me get help for my problem. We'd make it through. It wasn't to be. Two months after the rape, Tonya told me with an ashen face that she was pregnant. Two months pregnant. We had feared this. We always used condoms, and much later we'd learned that she had never been given a morning-after pill because some stupid nurse had forgotten to give it to her. We hadn't made love in three months, first because of my worry over my debts and then because of the rape. It has to be HIS baby, she sobbed. It was the worst time in my life. My wife was pregnant with Sugar Hill's baby, and it was all my fault. I wanted to die. Tonya had a hard time dealing with her pregnancy at first. Abortion was out of the question for her, she was very against it in all cases. She told me that she was going to carry and give birth to her rapist's baby. Then she would give it up for adoption. I agreed - God knows I didn't want to be raising Sugar's child! It was bad enough watching my wife's belly swell with another man's baby. We had no sex life. How could I make love to her, knowing that she was carrying sugar's child? The sooner it was adopted, the better, I felt. Sugar, of course, had other ideas. I don't know how he knew that he'd made Tonya pregnant, but he did. When she was five months along, he again summoned me to his hotel suite. He gave me the name of an adoption agency, and told me to send Tonya there or else. I assumed he wanted his child to go to a specific home, so I thought nothing of it and told Tonya to go there. She did, and after her second counseling appointment I realized what his plan was. After her second appointment, Tonya began to get into being pregnant. Up until then she'd resisted talking about the baby, other than to say she'd get rid of it when it was born. If a stranger in a supermarket congratulated her, she'd start to cry. That slowly changed. She began to talk about the baby. If someone congratulated her on her pregnancy she's say thanks. She enjoyed shopping for maternity clothes. Finally, when she was six months pregnant, she sat me down for a talk. She had decided to keep the baby, she said. Her counselor had told her that mixed babies almost never got adopted, and would spend years in foster care. Tonya didn't want that to happen. Yes, the baby's father was a rapist, but she was still it's mother. She felt that she could love the baby, even if it had been sired by a rapist. She hoped I would understand and support her. Well, of course I did though I wasn't happy about it. The whole thing was my fault anyway. So, I supported her. I acted happy about her pregnancy. I bit my lip when she warbled on about what to name "our" baby. As it turned out, Sugar had a hand in that too. Of course he'd sent me to that agency because he had someone planted there who would convince Tonya to have and keep his child. He told me that at another meeting between us. And he told me he wanted me to have the kid named Theodore if it was a boy, after Sugar's grandfather. Fortunately Tonya liked the name. And that's what we named the kid. Nine months after Sugar raped her, Tonya gave birth to his son. We got a lot of funny looks from the nurses - a white couple with a very black son, but Tonya was thrilled. I pretended I was too. That was sixteen years ago. Teddy's a strapping young man now, and he looks exactly like his father except a bit lighter, though he doesn't know this. We told him we adopted him. We had to do this, for his sake and the sake of our other children - we've since had two girls. Sugar still keeps an eye on Teddy - he gives me money on the sly for the support of his son. Tonya still has no idea that her rape and Teddy's conception were my fault. And she'll never know - if I have anything to say about it. -- +--------------' Story submission `-+-' Moderator contact `------------+ | story-submit@qz.little-neck.ny.us | story-admin@qz.little-neck.ny.us | | Archive site +--------------------+------------------+ Newsgroup FAQ | \ .../assm/faq.html> /