Message-ID: <29836asstr$987243004@assm.asstr-mirror.org> Return-Path: X-Original-Path: not-for-mail From: spoonbender@hotmail.com (Theodore Spoonbender) Reply-To: spoonbender@hotmail.com X-Original-Message-ID: <3ad74637.2452705@news.earthlink.net> MIME-Version: 1.0 Content-Type: text/plain; charset=us-ascii Content-Transfer-Encoding: 7bit NNTP-Posting-Date: Fri, 13 Apr 2001 11:35:45 PDT Subject: {ASSM} **New Spoonbender Story - Kallie(nc, sexslave, spanking) Date: Sat, 14 Apr 2001 06:10:04 -0400 Path: assm.asstr-mirror.org!not-for-mail Approved: Newsgroups: alt.sex.stories.moderated,alt.sex.stories Followup-To: alt.sex.stories.d X-Archived-At: X-Moderator-Contact: ASSTR ASSM moderation X-Story-Submission: X-Moderator-ID: gill-bates, dennyw Kallie (nc, sexslave, spanking) ******************************************************************** (c)2000 Spoonbender. A short story of an adult nature. Not to be read by minors. If you don't like stories where young ladies are taken advantage of or you are underage then don't read it. Contains very graphic descriptions of non consensual sex and corporal punishment. Can be freely distributed as long as it is not changed, including this heading, and you tell me the URL if it is put on a website. If it is to be archived on a fee paying archive then please email me first for permission. Please email me with comments, constructive criticism, fantasies you want put into words etc. Don't flame me if you don't like the content or you don't like my style. Spoonbender@hotmail.com if you wanna correspond. Ladies especially welcome. This story is fantasy. In other words it ain't true. None of it. Ok. If you don't know the difference between fantasy and real life then I suggest you seek urgent therapy. ********************************************************************* Kallie expertly swung her Porsche into her apartment building's underground parking lot and seconds later killed the motor. She sat ensconced in the leather seat for long minutes as she went over the day's events. She smiled thinly in satisfaction at putting one over on the two fellow marketing executives today. Both of them had been older, more experienced and ripe for promotion. But a series of dirty tricks, anonymous emails and whispered innuendo had put paid to their future career prospects. It had been a moment of sweet triumph for her, after months of preparation, and she was within an inch of at last being able to slide into the company's marketing vice president job, being left vacant on the retirement of the present incumbent. Then she'd be able to indulge in all kinds of retribution for the slights both imagined and real that she had suffered during her meteoric rise to the top. She knew that the men in the department resented her both for her looks and her age. At barely 29, and in 6 short years, she had stormed up the corporate ladder using a heady cocktail of allure, brains and grim determination. Licking and kicking asses in equal measure and using her god given charms to woo the board members and ultimately the president of the company. She contemplated the final assault, when she was going to assume the presidency herself, when she managed to topple Bob Sayger from his comfortable executive leather swivel chair and his prized rosewood desk. She was going to enjoy this. She'd already managed to compromise him, without him knowing, and had at her disposal a fat file listing the precise details of the Xanos deal. The deal that siphoned a handy $4 mill straight into Bob's offshore bank account. No-one knew she had it and it was only by luck that it had fallen into her hands at all. A carelessly encrypted file in an obscure directory on the company network had piqued her interest and she had doggedly followed the trail until it finally wound up with the President's fingerprints all over it. Ok she'd had to give her body to that bespectacled nerd in the IT department in order to get the decryption software but she intended to make him pay for that, along with Bob and the other putative castrati in the company. Once she was in charge. Which wouldn't be too long. She had already whispered in the ear of a couple of the major shareholder's ears. It would only take a few weeks to get to the others then it was all hers for the taking. She could have hugged herself in anticipation. But tonight she was going to celebrate, alone. It was friday night and she intended to savor the day's triumph curled up in her favorite chair in front of her tv. She swung her long slim legs out of the car and reached over for the bottle of Veve Clicquot from the passenger seat. And while she was thus distracted they struck. The first she knew of the attack was when the chemical soaked rag was forced over her nose and mouth. She fought blindly but her trim 120 pound body was no match for the powerful arms that gripped her or the ham like hand that held the rag to her face. Struggling blindly her struggles became weaker as the chemical fogged her brain. Then she passed out. ________________________(c) 2000 Spoonbender _____________________________ There are places where the dreams of many intermingle with the nightmares of a few. Hell and heaven become one in such places. Such a place might feature plain but grubby cinderblock walls and a thin, stained mattress tossed carelessly onto the beaten earth floor. The corrugated iron roof tending to concentrate the searing heat of an African sun until the sparsely appointed room became a furnace. A small barred window, high in the wall and a battered but perfectly sound door completed the ensemble. It was a room that almost anyone at home in the sheltered cloisters of middle class western society would recoil from. It spoke of dirt and grime, poor food and unspeakable labors. It was, by African standards, relatively clean. In fact it even featured a shower, of sorts, and a hole in the floor through which the occupant of the room could complete their ablutions. Other than the mattress it had no furniture, indeed it needed none, not when one considers its purpose. But today it had an addition. A solitary chair, obliquely situated close to the door in which a fat Arabic looking man in a grubby off white suit sat looking at the person who was laid out on the mattress. His hands folded over the silver balled head of his ebony stick, its point comfortably resting on the floor. Every so often the man pulled out a handkerchief, pushed his fez back and mopped his brow as he surveyed her. Licking his lips while he waited for her to emerge from her drug induced coma. He was in no hurry, he enjoyed these occasions and did nothing to speed up the process through which he intended to lead her towards her new life. Meanwhile he feasted on her charms. She was simply stunning. Blond and beautiful with a model's figure that her rather severely cut business suit did little to hide. He couldn't see her eyes but he was assured that they were blue and piercing. A perennial favorite amongst his customers was the idea of being able to ejaculate inside a slim, blond, blue eyed American beauty's tight little pussy. And now they were to get their wish. He smiled down at her. He loved his job as much as she was going to hate hers. Fate can be such a cruel master sometimes. ________________________(c) 2000 Spoonbender _____________________________ Kallie came to bathed in an ocean of sweat. Her eyes blinked open then shut swiftly as the harsh light from the barred window dazzled her. She opened them slowly and, once accustomed to the brightness slowly scanned the room. Finally alighting on the obscene man ensconced on the plain wooden chair. Her head was pounding like a drum from the effects of the drugs and she found it difficult to marshal her thoughts as she surveyed her surroundings. Drawing on hidden energy she was at last able to croak. "Where am I? And who are you?" "Where you are is for me to know but is of no concern of yours. As to who I am, let us just say I am your Master." He spoke extremely good English albeit with a guttural southern Mediterranean accent and he sounded faintly amused. "What..ow," she exclaimed as she tried to sit up. She clapped a hand to her brow as she again attempted to marshal her strength. "What do you mean... Master?" She tried to sound confident and in full control of the situation but her fear made her voice sound high and schoolgirlish. He shifted slightly in his seat and again mopped his brow, his amusement clearly showing on his fleshy jowls. "Come, come," he chided. "You are an educated woman, surely you understand the word Master." He rolled it on his tongue savoring the reaction it caused in her. She struggled upright, ignoring the stabbing pains in her head, and took a series of deep breaths trying to control her thumping heart. Finally she felt in control enough to speak. "No man is my master buster. You'd better let me out of here or you're going to be in big trouble." The man's smile broadened and he waved at the door behind him, "You are free to go, however I must warn you that you are in the middle of Africa and there are over a million men out there between you and the airport that would love the chance to get between a pretty white girl's legs. Maybe you should think about that before you do anything rash." Kallie was stunned, "Africa?" she blurted. "Yes my dear, Africa, I'm sure you have heard of it." She shook her head in irritation, "Yes, yes, but how?" He shrugged, "how you got here is no concern of yours. All that you need concern yourself with is what you are going to be doing now that you are here. Concentrate on the future, not on the past." "So what do you want me to do?" "Look around, what do you think?" he said, clamping his stick between his knees and spreading his hands expansively whilst looking around the room as if he was seeing it for the first time. "I don't fucking know," she spat, exasperated by his insouciance. She took another deep breath, "why don't you tell me." "To put it simply this is a brothel and you are going to be a whore." "WHAT? You can fuck off, I won't do that for you or anybody." He shrugged, his smile not slipping an inch. "Oh I assure you that you will, one way or another." "Oh yeah and just how are you going to make me?" her jaw jutted aggressively. "There are a number of ways," he seemed unconcerned and evidently used to this type of reaction. "You see the chains hanging from the wall?" he pointed with his stick to two sets of manacles that had been bolted to the wall about 6 feet from the floor. "Well we could start by chaining you to the wall, tearing your clothes off and whipping you until you beg to be allowed to......" Kallie sat there stunned. His matter of fact tone seeming to make what he was saying more grotesque. "...then I would have you chained down using the chains around the mattress....." He pointed his stick towards the corner of the mattress and she saw the manacles that lay coiled there like rusting, evil snakes. One per corner. It didn't need much imagination to work out what they were for. "....then of course they'd simply take you anyway," his gold tooth glinted as he grinned. "You can't do this," her voice cracked with emotion and a solitary tear trickled down her cheek. "I can't see any reason why not, you are my property and you will do what I say. Whether you cooperate or not," he paused for a second and a crafty look came into his eye. "Of course it would be easier if you cooperated." "Cooperate with you? Why should I?" she tried to sound defiant but her bravado was melting away as her mind churned over her options. "Because if you don't then you'll be stripped, whipped and fucked by as many men as would want you. Which given the interest shown in blonds here might be rather a trying experience for you. It wouldn't surprise me if you ended up with over a hundred men cumming between those pretty white thighs. Tonight and every night until you see sense." The tears were flowing freely now. Gone was the confident young businesswoman and in her place was a scared young girl, miles from home and beyond help. "And if I cooperate?" she sobbed. "Ah in that case it will all be so much easier. And far less tiring for you I think you'll find. Maybe you'll even enjoy it." She doubted it but couldn't see any alternative. She sat there, eyes cast down to the floor, as she contemplated her fate. They used to call it the fate worse than death, now she understood why as a life of sexual servitude stretched out before her. She buried her face in her hands and sobbed piteously, while he sat there with a sardonic smile on his face. After a few minutes he again spoke, "I suggest you start taking your clothes off. The men are getting restless." "Please no! please don't, I'll do other things whatever you want, just don't do this." "Other things? Like what?" "I can er.." she stopped doubting that a corporate marketing specialist had much to offer around here, but she had to try to save herself. "Look couldn't we..er..like I could be your girlfriend or something." He threw back his head and laughed, "Oh my dear that was wonderful. Thank you, I haven't had an offer like that for a very long time. And why do you think I would be the remotest bit interested in you?" "Because I er I'm attractive. I could give you a good time." "I assure you that you couldn't. But thank you for the offer. My tastes do not run to women I'm afraid, so as you Americans so nicely put it, you are plain out of luck. Now stand up," he motioned with his cane. She wobbled to her feet afraid that she would fall her limbs were shaking so much. She shuddered as his eyes traveled down her body appraising her like a piece of meat. "Hmmm, excellent," he muttered rubbing his beard, "ok you know what to do." "Please," she entreated. Suddenly his grin was gone. "I told you to strip......unless you want my men to do it for you." Sobbing openly she pulled off her jacket. Once it was free of her arms she folded it and looked around for somewhere to put it. Without a word he indicated with his stick that she should drop it. She grimaced as she dropped it into the dirt. The blouse came next revealing a milky white bra. The skirt revealed pantyhose, now it was his turn to grimace. Evidently they were not to his taste. The pantyhose revealed a pair of lacy white panties. She stood before him, head bowed in shame, clad only in her underwear. "I don't think I told you to stop," he commanded. The tears trickled openly as she released the catch on the bra letting the cups fall open. She looked at him willing him to stop, but his glare commanded her. She had never felt so vulnerable as she did at that time. Her helplessness, a feeling almost unknown to her, tore at her as she bent to his will and dropped the bra on the floor. "The pants. Now the pants," he pointed to her panties with his stick. Blushing she hooked her thumbs over the waistband of her panties then leaned forward as she pushed them down her sleek legs. Standing up she stood before him, eyes down, face red with her hands shielding her crotch. He allowed her this small gesture of modesty, it would be stripped away soon enough. He grabbed his stick by the tip and rapped the head on the door. The door flew open and a large black man stood framed in the light a sneer of lust plastered across his face. Kallie recoiled when she saw him. She was having enough trouble trying to come to terms with her fate without having to contemplate the fact that she was to be forced to copulate with black men. To her blacks were just people that drifted in and out of the periphery of her vision. They opened doors for her, cleaned her office and performed a myriad range of menial tasks for her. All of which went unrecognized and unrewarded. If they did blip on her radar it was purely to berate them for some misdemeanor or other. The very last thing in her mind was the prospect of actually having sex with one, never mind many of them. She couldn't, just couldn't. She shook her head and held her hands out in front of her, tears again streaming down her face. "No please, no, not with him. Please." "Why not?" the Arab queried gently, genuinely puzzled. "He's a, he's black." The Arab shrugged, "So?" To him it obviously posed no problem. The man was a paying customer so his color didn't matter and more to the point, neither did she. "I can't." "Are you refusing?" the steely glint in his eyes should have warned her. She nodded, eyes streaming. The Arab turned to the man and said something in rapid fire Swahili. The man smiled, teeth gleaming, then turned and walked out. Moments later he returned carrying some rope and a slim flat ebony paddle. A grinning man with a huge old camera followed him in. "What is he doing?" she quavered as the large man inched towards her. She yelped when one beefy paw closed over her wrist. The Arab stood up and moved the chair into the middle of the room. "Get him off me!" she hollered as the man pulled her around the chair then pushed her over the back. She struggled vainly as the Arab grabbed her wrists tying them together then onto the front rung of the chair. Two further lengths of rope tied her ankles to the back legs. Her ass pointed high, her charms spread and available to all. The cameraman dropped to his knees and focused on her face. She screamed as she contemplated her upcoming rape. The loud crack across her bottom took her by surprise and the pain, that followed milliseconds later, ripped through her like fire. Her piercing scream was heart-rending and futile as another blow struck her mid buttock. Again and again the Arab's arm raised then struck. Again and again she screamed, struggled and cried. The shutter clicked and the flashes blinded her. Until at last she acceded to his demand, "Please no more, I'll do it. Please no more." Crack! "Beg him to fuck you." "Pleeeease!" Crack! "Beg him." "Please, please make love to me." Crack! "Beg him to fuck you. You're a whore you don't make love, you FUCK!" Crack! "Fuck me, fuck me. Anything, just stop, please." She whimpered. Crack! "Louder!" "PLEASE FUCK ME, FUCK MEEEE," She screamed heartrendingly. The Arab leaned down until his mouth was close to her ear, "You refuse now and this will seem like nothing, do you hear?" He smacked her flaming butt in confirmation. She nodded tearfully. The black man, his grin wider than ever, undid her bonds and she struggled upright her hands rubbing her blazing buttocks furiously. The Arab restored his chair to its previous position and plumped down, his smile again in position. The black man held her hand and led her over to the grubby mattress. Sobbing she dropped down onto its stained surface, grimacing at its fetidness. The man followed her down fondling her body as he did so. She grimaced and reflexively tried to push his hands away, but then she caught the Arab's eye. She gulped and her hands dropped limply away. The black smirked and nibbled her neck as she lay on her back, her eyes pooling with tears. One of his hands dropped onto her thighs slowly forcing them apart. She shuddered with sobs as she was forced open. Every instinct in her screamed at her to get up, to flee, to stop this man, this stranger from raping her. Because rape was what it was. Even though she had consented. He was forcing her apart, tearing open her body with the strength of ten. She felt powerless and totally terrified. He humped himself between her thighs and settled on her. She recoiled in disgust and revulsion, feeling his hard body pressing her down onto the filthy mattress. His skin was coarse and rough as it pressed down on her firm breasts, pressing them against her ribs until they pillowed out like fat cushions. His cock was bone hard as pressed against her soft thighs. The man pushed himself up on one hand and grabbed his huge throbbing prick. He pressed the head against her cunt. Kallie lay still in abject terror. She had never seen an uncircumcised cock before and the thought of it pushing inside her filled her with horrified revulsion. She tried to wriggle from under him, but it was too late, and she sobbed piteously in misery and fear as it started to push inside. She tried to push him away but he was too heavy and far too strong and his prick started to ram into her tight dry cunt. She shuddered in pain, her eyes screwed shut and her hands clenched tightly as he forced himself inside. The man grunted and threw his hips forward, jamming his cock fully into her body, his balls pressing against the underside of her buttocks as he sighed and rested on her. After he had savored her tightness for a few seconds he drew himself out, causing her to arch her back again, a whimper of pain bubbling from her lips. Again the cameraman clicked away oblivious to her suffering as the man on top of her started to pound away at her. Her legs slid up and down his body with the forceful thrusting of his strokes and she wriggled and squirmed as she tried to find a position that was less painful for her. But it was no use. He kept varying his angle of attack but never lessened the pace as he pounded away in her. She had never felt so humiliated as she was ravaged by someone, who in her mind, was a sub human. And to make it worse she was being watched intently by a smiling Arab and was blinded by the flash of the camera. The man pounded faster and faster and then she felt him stiffen and swell inside her. She made one last effort to heave him off but he wasn't having any of it and he just pushed her effortlessly down as he slammed in as deep as he could. And with a satisfied grunt he came inside her unprotected womb. She could feel the hot ropes of his seed splattering inside her and her whole body cringed in revulsion and horror. It seemed to be hours before he at last slumped on top of her as his last few drops were forced inside her. His spent prick dropped weakly out of her cunt after a few seconds and he pushed himself up, dropped his loincloth and, without a backward glance, he stalked out of the mean room. The tableau continued for a few seconds, the ravished girl, sperm drooling from her pussy, the fat smiling Arab in repose on his chair and the cameraman changing his film. She lay there stunned, wide eyed and ashamed with a black man's sperm sliding down her asscrack and soaking into the mattress. The door was flung open and her next customer walked in, sneering in lust as he saw the fucked white girl that he too was going to possess. He dropped between her still widespread legs and without preamble rammed himself into her. Kallie groaned in horror as he slammed against her cervix. Seconds later he was pounding away violently. The first man's sperm had lubricated her so it didn't hurt much but the humiliation threatened to overwhelm her, especially when the cameraman again started clicking away. Her eyes misted with tears as she grunted with his thrusts and moaned when he mauled her perky breasts. And so it went on...... And on..... And on..... ________________________(c) 2000 Spoonbender _____________________________ Twenty men emptied themselves between her soft white thighs before the Arab called a halt to her degradation. She gave up struggling after the first few and in the end she just lay there focusing on the ripples of the corrugated tin room as man after man climbed on top of her. The cameraman was squatting in the corner of the room, dangling his camera by its strap. He had long since given up taking photographs, after a while the scene had a sameness about it that did not provide sufficient inspiration for the artist that lived within him. He too had fucked her, number sixteen or seventeen she didn't know which, having long lost count of the men that were cumming inside her. He pulled the camera up to his eye and snapped off two final shots. One of her lying there spread wide wantonly and a close up of her sperm smeared crotch. The Arab cleared his throat, "do you want to leave?" "Leave?" she croaked. "Yes leave. You may be able to leave if...." He left the sentence hanging. "If what?" hoping against hope. "If you beg nicely," again the glint of his gold tooth. "Get up." It took her three attempts to struggle upright. Even though she had laid supine throughout most of her ordeal she was still so very, very tired. At last she stood on wobbly legs, cold sperm meandering down the inside of her thighs. She looked like a complete cumslut. Red paw marks disfigured her breasts and there were numerous bruises forming over her slim white body. A dark patch of wetness soaked into the mattress from where she had lain. The Arab turned slightly and pointed his stick towards a dark patch in the top corner of the room, above his head. "You see that?" he enquired. Wearily she squinted then noticed the regular shape of the hole. It looked like a lens and against the odds another tear coursed down her downy cheek. "The man who put you here is going to watch the tape we have made and if he consider you to be sufficiently contrite then he may allow you to go home." "Man who put me here?" puzzled. "Yes, why do you think you were chosen? Someone has paid a lot of money to have you brought here." "Who?" He laughed, a short bark, "I am not going to tell you that now am I? It could be someone you have snubbed at work, a spurned lover, or someone who just doesn't like you. I will leave that to you to work out." Her mind spun furiously despite her tiredness trying to figure out who it was that could be so vindictive as to... Eventually she gave up, it could be any one of a number of men. He watched her shoulders slump and then said, "fortunately for you he has given you a chance to redeem yourself. You must beg his forgiveness and if you are convincing enough then he might, just might, order your release. So it is up to you. Do you understand?" She nodded tearfully. "You will look at the camera and beg. And I suggest you beg well as your life depends on it." She stood mutely. "I'd start if I were you, unless you want another twenty men to fuck you." "No please." "Go on then." She gulped then raised her eyes to the cold dark eye of the lens. Hesitantly she started, "please sir, please let me go. I'm sorry for whatever I've done. I'll never do it again. Please let me go. I'll be good, I'll do whatever you want, but please let me go...." She broke down in a paroxysm of sobs. The Arab let her cry for a few minutes then said, briskly, "clean yourself up." He pointed to the crude toilet. The cameraman clicked away furiously as she squatted and used the thin dribble of water from the hose that served as a shower to try and clean the smears of spunk that matted her crotch. When she had finished she staggered upright, too worn out to care about what was to happen next. "He wants you to suck off five men and after each one you will hold the spunk in your mouth and beg again." "Oh no. Please not that I've never..." He shrugged, "then you stay here until you do. It is not a problem to me." She dropped to her knees hands clasped in front of her in silent supplication. He looked down at her smiling sardonically, "well?" She nodded, head hung low. He again rapped on the door and a fresh man entered the room. He walked over to her and pushed his prick up against her tightly closed lips. He waved it in her face then pushed against them again before he turned quizzically to the Arab. "If you want to leave I suggest you open your mouth to him," snapped the Arab. The man grabbed his flaccid cock and slapped her across the face with it a couple of times before again pressing it against her lips. With an obvious reluctance she parted them allowing him to slip inside. She gagged and tried to pull away when the tip of it hit the back of her tongue but his huge hands gripped her head and held it tight as he kept pushing. She squirmed on the floor, her hands pushing and slapping ineffectually against his sturdy thighs. He pulled her head towards his crotch as he kept slamming his steel hard prick deeper and deeper. Finally her pretty nose was buried deeply in his wiry pubic hairs. Her face turned red from lack of air as his prick pulsed deep inside her throat. He murmured in lust then suddenly pulled her head back allowing her to gulp a lungful of air before he again yanked her back onto him. Her hands slapped repeatedly against his hips as he manhandled her head to give himself the maximum satisfaction inside her soft wet maw. Faster and harder he forced himself into her. Until..... He must have been in the know because, just as he started to stiffen and pulse he pulled her head back until just the tip was inside her mouth. Then he came. Her eyes closed in humiliation and her head shook as the prick fired its salty load inside her mouth repeatedly. The cameraman adding to her misery as he clicked away madly. Finally he pulled her head off of him then turned and walked out without a second glance. Leaving her kneeling naked in the dirt with her cheeks bulging with his seed. "Get on with it," the Arab nodded up towards the hidden camera. Blushing furiously she burbled "preeze fur, preeze wet ma gur." The sperm dribbling down her chin and dripping to the floor, "preeze." "Swallow," commanded the Arab. "Preeze." "Swallow!" She closed her eyes in humiliation and swallowed. Four more men. Four more mouthfuls of hot sperm. Four more muffled pleas. Four more humiliating swallows as the sperm slid down her throat like thick mucus. They laid her back on the mattress after that and she was fucked a few more times. Finally they gave up, it was no fun fucking a semi comatose woman. Never mind how pretty she was or how blond her hair. She fell asleep with one leg flung wide and the other bent. Her foot against her ass and a thick lava-stream of cold spunk oozing out of her. ________________________(c) 2000 Spoonbender _____________________________ She came to with a jerk. Her heart pounding in terror and her breath coming in short gasps. The sun streamed in through her curtains creating golden flecks in the air above her brass four poster bed. With its soft deep duvet and its frilly pelmets high above her head. She looked around wildly unable to comprehend where she was. Then she felt it. Deep inside her. She reached between her legs amazed to find a tight rope snapped snugly over her crotch. Which was doing a sterling job of holding the dildo, that lived in her bedside cabinet, inside her. She pulled the rope to one side and, with a long groan, pulled the dildo out. Then fell back. She was so sore she could hardly move. She lay there staring at her familiar ceiling trying to gather her flittering thoughts. What had happened to her was overwhelming enough but to wake up to normality was mind bending. She glanced over to her bedside clock. The techie toy she had bought on a business trip to Singapore. It told the time and the day. And it told her it was Sunday at 6 in the evening. She'd been gone about 48 hours. Was that time enough to get to Africa? She doubted it but..... She'd been there. She knew it. It was so authentic. The men was so raw, so feral. Quite unlike the more westernized blacks that she had briefly met. They were exactly how she thought Africans to be. Uncaring, unfeeling, primitive. She thought about what she'd done with them and the bile rose in her throat. She spent the rest of the evening with her head in the toilet bowl. She later wrestled with the decision of whether she should go to the police. Would they believe her (Africa you say lady? Right!), would they catch them? Who had set it up? She fell asleep with her mind still churning the options. The next day at work she decided to call the police. She flicked on her computer to call up their number and an email suddenly appeared in the middle of her screen. That was odd it had never done that before. Do not go to the Police. You will not be believed and we will never be found. As for the man who put you there you should be grateful that he let you go free. Forget it or....... She stared at the message as a numbness crept down her body. It was some moments before she noticed that there was an attachment. It was a series of photographs of her......being fucked, covered in sperm, sucking a huge black dick, begging through the mouthful of sperm.... She hit delete and ran to the bathroom to wretch her guts up. It was obvious what they'd do if she went to the Police. Her photos would appear on websites throughout the world. The next few days were hell as she tried to work out who it could have been that had been responsible for it. Was it the suave urbane president? Balding and harassed looking Griggs her deputy, even the stockroom boy who had once worked in sales before she took exception to him. Who? She found herself watching them intently until they started to become embarrassed and started to avoid her. Otherwise they acted perfectly normally and she felt she was going mad as she tried to work out who it was. That had her gangraped and forced to suck numerous black pricks. And who had her panties. The Arab had told her, it one of her last conscious thoughts. "He will get these panties...." As she slipped into the fluffy confines of unconsciousness. Then the missed period. It was what she was dreading more than anything else. She'd douched and had even considered the morning after pill but somehow never got one. Her mind tried to deny that it had happened, that history was wrong, that her personal holocaust had never taken place. So she didn't. She was searching the web for the closest abortion clinic when the next email came. Do not abort it. You will carry it to term. If you don't you will be returned and another baby will be put in your belly. And this time you will be kept there to make sure you have it. More photos. Of her with the first black guy, the probable father. She couldn't see much of him, but she could see herself well enough. The short series of pictures went from the initial look of agony when he first entered her through to the grimace of humiliated disgust as he erupted inside her. The camera caught it all. The moments of insertion through to conception all captured in a few magnetic droppings on a computer disk. Ethereal but true. She thought about her ordeal and with a strength of purpose she thought she no longer had, she made her mind up about what she should do. ________________________(c) 2000 Spoonbender _____________________________ Kallie left the company a few months later. It had a strict moral code that did not allow for employees, certainly senior ones, to get pregnant outside marriage. And it was certainly obvious to everyone that she was indeed pregnant, moreover she wouldn't disclose the father's name to the HR department. Something that may have mitigated her condition somewhat was if she could have indicated that she was in a steady relationship. Sadly it was not to be and, as rumor has it, she didn't in actuality know who the father was. Indeed the rumor mill ground onwards and upwards until the story was circulating that it could have been any one of a number of dalliances. Some of which were somewhat of a temporary nature. After that her position became untenable and she slunk away with the puzzled, mildly distasteful, looks on the director's faces etched on her memory. Her half black son's name is Cory and she lives in a bleak coldwater tenement, on welfare. Apparently she is pregnant again. ________________________(c) 2000 Spoonbender _____________________________ Is there a woman out there that has put you down or denied you what is yours? Or what about that pretty coed from down the street that you might like to see put in her place. (no underaged girls please, they raise too many complications). What about your female boss? Too uppity? Girlfriend just ditched you? If any of the above apply to you then you could benefit from the services offered by www.wefuckemforyou.zz For a single payment of $25,000 you get the following benefits: Discrete pick up and return. Only the victim knows she has been taken and she never knows who by. And she's always returned to the exact point of origin or to a place that you designate and that we deem secure. Control over the numbers and racial origins of the men. Whether its ten or a hundred its all included in the price. You choose depending on how much she has annoyed you or how many you estimate it will take to tame her. We can inform the victim that she was selected by someone or not, it is your choice. Kallie's controller stipulated that she should be told, in order to modify her behavior in future. A videotape will be made using the finest studio quality video camera. There will also be a number of high quality still photographs taken at optimal moments for you to savor. Please note that the participant's faces, other than hers, cannot be seen. Therefore they will yield no clues back to the perpetrators nor indeed yourself. A website on our server. We will put the gangbang photos, details about her life, her name and address and a number of 'plain' photographs on the site. The 'plain' photographs will have been taken before her abduction and will show her going about her daily business. These will be used to confirm her identity. There will also be offers to sell the DVDs of her gangbang. This website will be held in abeyance until we get a confirmation email from you. It is recommended that this option is only invoked if she causes further distress or embarrassment to you. In return for running the site we will take all the proceeds of the sale of the DVDs but we will ensure that all her colleagues, family and friends (and indeed her rivals) are emailed with the URL and JPGs. We will also ensure maximum distribution worldwide. Wherever she goes you can be assured they will be on open sale in a local sexshop. As a bonus, if you wish, we could send you her panties for your delectation. In order to avail yourself of the service please note the following steps: 1) Send her name, address, workplace title and address, marital status and any other facts that can help to give a positive identification (such as a recent photograph in JPG form). The email addresses of key acquaintances should also be attached. 2) Fill in the credit card details into our secure server or look at our easy terms credit plan. 3) Wait for up to one month. The service is extremely secure and totally anonymous. Once the payment has been processed your card details will be destroyed. The photographs will be in a closed area on our website for your perusal. The video can be sent to you on request, but please note that it may be subject to customs inspection if sent overseas. Our facilities include a simulated African brothel set inside a warehouse. This facility includes powerful heating and colour tuned lighting to simulate the heat of an African summer. Sand has been spread, and authentic African noises come from speakers set, around the outside of the room. The victim will not suspect a thing. Similarly the personnel are specially trained and are chosen on the basis of their brutality, substantial penile dimensions and their stamina. Please allow up to 2 months for DVD or Video delivery (please indicate which you prefer). Notices: Kallie's website has been sanctioned so watch out for it soon. The full boxed set of DVDs are available for sale on the site. And her new address. Would Customer 965 please confirm your email address, our emails keep bouncing and we are in a position to pick up the victim and carry out the plan. Customer 732 your target was acquired last weekend, used and released, please see your closed website area for first pictures. Customer 589 your victim's DVD set is available please email with postal details Our European service will be opening soon, please see website for details. Or email me at spoonbender@hotmail.com (******** (c) Spoonbender@hotmail.com **************************) Who says marketing don't work? -- Pursuant to the Berne Convention, this work is copyright with all rights reserved by its author unless explicitly indicated. +---------------------------------------------------------------------------+ | alt.sex.stories.moderated ----- send stories to: | | FAQ: Moderator: | +---------------------------------------------------------------------------+ |Archive: Hosted by Alt.Sex.Stories Text Repository | |, an entity supported entirely by donations. | +---------------------------------------------------------------------------+