0 comments/ 70755 views/ 23 favorites In the Ghetto By: Deckard Kincaid Greg started the long drive in a happy mood. After two long weeks, his Michelle was coming home from her mother's. She would be arriving on the 11:30 PM flight from Chicago in just another hour. Greg had urged her to get an earlier flight, but they were all booked up, so she took the first available flight. It would have been a lot easier to drive to the airport from his office than to leave from home in Riverside, but at least the traffic was light on the freeways late at night. "Six of one and half-a-dozen of the other", Greg thought to himself as he pushed the BMW speedometer to eighty, as if his increased speed would also speed up Michelle's plane. Greg thought of his beautiful wife as he drove, missing her companionship as well as the fantastic sex they enjoyed. They were relative newly-weds, having only been married four years, and the honeymoon still hadn't ended. Greg could see her in his mind, playing like a movie in the darkness of the freeway stretching in front of the car. Brunette hair, laughing blue eyes and a sparkling smile, often appearing mischievous, and always a joy to be near. But not just a pretty face; Michelle was blessed with a body to match. Her waist appeared to be cinched, giving the appearance of a wasp because of her small girth. Greg could almost touch his hands when he put them around her waist, something he had been longing to do for fourteen long, long days. Whenever she was in public, regardless of what she was wearing, men would stop in their tracks and stare at her, transfixed by her beauty, her bearing, her smooth movement. More than one man had been clobbered by his wife or girlfriend due to their unabashed stares. Michelle had admitted to Greg that it turned her on when she saw men drooling over her, but she remained faithful to the one man in her life. Greg finally arrived at the airport, found a parking space that wasn't too far from the terminal, then checked at the airlines desk to verify the arrival time and which concourse for the flight. For the tenth time, he looked at his watch as he paced back and forth in the waiting area, stopping only to gaze out the large windows at the busy landing and docking areas. Greg finally saw a large four-engine jet being towed to the end of the docking bay just as he heard the loud speakers announce the arrival of Delta flight 884. That was it! Greg's heart jumped with excitement as he positioned himself near the entrance to the docking tunnel, wondering if Michelle was feeling the same excitement for their reunion. In minutes, he no longer had to wonder, as the steady stream of passengers walked up the ramp from the plane with Michelle in the lead, waving wildly. Her face was glowing at the sight of her husband, her steps quickening, almost running, as she struggled with her heavy carry-on bag. Greg had to grin at how his wife always over-packed for even the simplest trips and he knew from experience that her bag would contain several novels, makeup cases, and every- thing else she couldn't get in her crammed suitcases. Michelle decided to stop struggling with the heavy bag and dropped it on the tiled floor as she ran the last few feet to Greg's open arms, slamming into him with her momentum. She immediately wrapped her arms around his neck as she bent her legs behind her, supporting her weight with Greg's wide shoulders. Michelle squealed with delight as she began to cover his face with kisses, her eyes dewy with happiness, the weariness she had felt from the flight completely vanishing. "Oh, Greg, Greg, I missed you," Michelle managed to breathlessly speak as she let her legs return to the floor, the sliding of her body down his raising her skirt to mid-thigh. Michelle pulled her skirt back down as she stepped back from Greg, her face beaming. "Hey, I missed you, too, baby," Greg returned with a light laugh, pleased with the greeting Michelle had given him while still reserved enough to not display the emotions bouncing around inside him. "How was the flight?" Putting her arm through his as she pulled him to where her bag lay, Michelle rolled her eyes in her cute little way and grunted, "ver-r-y long, and so-o-o tiring. I couldn't nap because I kept thinking of getting home to you." Greg gave her waist a squeeze, kissed her cheek lightly, then bent and retrieved her bag from the floor. He realized how lucky he was, to have such a beautiful and loving wife, one who could miss him as he missed her. Greg put an arm around her small shoulders and bent to whisper in her shell-like ear, inhaling the exotic scent of her body. "Just wait 'til I get you home, and I'll really tire you out," he softly whispered. Michelle giggled a little-girl giggle as she studied the glint in her husband's eyes, then poked a finger in his stomach as she chided, "oh, you, that's all you can think of, isn't it?" Even as she teased him, Michelle felt a moist warmth form between her legs, stirred by the thought of a night of love-making as they tried to make up for two weeks without the pleasure of each others bodies. Ever since they had married, it was almost ritualistic that they make love at least three times a week, and Michelle had calculated that they were owed six bouts of hot sex. She didn't know about him, but those thoughts had boosted her adrenalin and Michelle knew she wouldn't be able to sleep until completely worn out. Such was their intimate talking and teasing as they retrieved Michelle's luggage and had it loaded in the car, then found their way out of the confusing maze of the airport and onto the highway heading east toward their home outside Riverside. It was an easy drive, devoid of the usual traffic madness because of the late hour and Greg guess-timated they could be home and in bed inside of two hours. He had driven less than five miles when a light flashed on the dash followed by a melodic electronic dinging. Greg took his eyes off the road to read the flashing notice the BMW was demanding be read. What he saw took him by surprise. "Wh, what the heck? Fuel? That can't be," Greg complained as he looked at the fuel gauge, even tapping the glass cover in disbelief. But there it was, the needle stubbornly refusing to move, stuck at the bottom of the red portion of the gauge, underling the large letter 'E'. Michelle's voice carried her concern, "what is it, honey? What's wrong?" "This thing says we're out of gas," Greg informed her as though disbelieving the electronic gadgetry. "But that can't be. I filled up this morning, and there's no way I could have used a full tank of gas." Again he thumped the glass cover of the gauge and added, as if to himself, "darn thing must be broken." Just then the car let him know it wasn't broken. First one cough, then another, then a sputtering sound. Greg let up on the gas pedal and the sputtering stopped, the speed dropping to a respectable fifty miles an hour. They went another mile and the car coughed again, another warning while the light on the dash continued to flash and the dinging sound getting on Greg's nerves. He smacked the dash with his hand and announced, "I better get off the freeway and find a gas station quick. I don't understand it." Greg guided the car down the first ramp he came to, not bothering to read the exit sign which let travelers know it was the Central Avenue exit. Greg was only interested in finding the nearest gas station and getting back on the freeway. He made a left and drove under the freeway, searching the road ahead for bright lights which might indicate the presence of a station. Greg couldn't see the tell-tale signs of an open station as far as he see down the straight avenue, so he made a right at the next block after searching the darkness to the left of the intersection. He spotted some lights glowing in the darkness a couple of blocks ahead and mentally crossed his fingers as they passed barred store fronts and warehouses lining both sides of the deserted street. He was letting the car coast, going no more than fifteen miles an hour in an effort to preserve gas, but after one block the car sputtered again, followed by a series of coughs that jerked the car and made a knocking noise in the engine compartment. Then it died without further warning. Just died. The silence was eerie without the purr of the V6 motor, but Greg didn't notice as he let the car coast to a stop by the edge of the road, expelling his pent-up breath in disgust and frustration. He turned off the headlights and leaned forward in the seat, pressing against the steering wheel as he focused his eyes on the lights still a block away in vain, unable to determine what the lights were illuminating. "Hope that's a gas station up there, honey," Greg spoke hopefully to the quiet Michelle. "I'll walk up there and see. Maybe I can get some gas in a can." Michelle spoke sharply, almost shrilly, "you're not leaving me here alone! I'm going with you." Greg nodded, in a way glad she wanted to accompany him on his walk in the dark. He didn't have the faintest idea where they were, and realized they would be safer if they stuck together. He opened his door as he agreed, "okay. That's probably best. And it's just a block, so I'm sure we'll be fine." They walked arm in arm down the broken sidewalk, Michelle carefully stepping over the hazardous breaks in her high heels as she held on tightly to Greg's arm. The dilapidated buildings they passed hugged the sidewalk and most of them had steel bars covering the windows and doors. This wasn't unusual in many areas of the city, so neither of them thought much about it, focusing instead on their nearing goal. Midway down the block they passed one building that apparently was still open. Even before they got to it, they could hear the heavy thumping of bass from a juke box or something, serving to advertise the type of establishment. Greg commented, "sounds like a bar or some kind of club." Michelle nodded, then pointed at the neon sign over the door as the got closer. "Mm, hmm. See? It's a bar." Greg looked at the sign that stated simply 'BAR', with the crossing neon strip in the 'A' burned out. The red neon flashed off and on, barely illuminating the doorway beneath it, slightly recessed in the brick facade of the building. "We might be able to use the phone there if that place up ahead isn't a gas station," he offered. Michelle looked over her shoulder at the bar as they passed the building. "Hmm, I don't know, honey. It looks like a dive. Like a cycle club, or something." "Yeh, but it may be the only place around here where we can use a phone," Greg countered. "We'll see." Their hopes for a gas station ahead evaporated as they passed the last building in the block. There were the bright lights they had seen, mounted high on steel poles, shrouded in steel mesh, but the lights only illuminated a closed grocery store. The store had lights on all sides, giving the appearance of daylight surrounding only the store. Unlike the other buildings they had passed, the store had steel shutters covering the windows and door, completely secure from outside intrusion. Greg and Michelle stood there silently staring at had been their source of hope, the dejection evident on their faces. Greg raised his hands by his side and then dropped them in a hopeless gesture. "I'm sorry, Michelle. I hate it that I got us in this predicament." "It wasn't your fault, Greg," Michelle comforted. "You thought you had enough gas. There must be something wrong with the car." Greg turned and looked back down the street at the bar they had passed. "Well, guess we have no choice. We'll try that bar. There has to be a phone there." They retraced their steps, Michelle's shoes making a quick tap, tap on the concrete as they hurried back to the one open place they had discovered. Greg paused with his hand on the door handle as he looked at Michelle, silently questioning if she was comfortable with entering the 'dive' as she had called the place earlier. Michelle understood and nodded, her upper teeth biting lightly into her lower lip pensively. Greg pulled the door to him and they were immediately assailed with the odor of stale cigarette smoke and beer. The juke box was no longer rocking with the thumping they had heard earlier, the only sound now coming through the door a mixture of laughter and talk. But all sound ceased as Greg ushered Michelle ahead of him into the dimly lit room with his hand on her waist. They stood just inside the door as their eyes adjusted to the near-darkness, then Michelle leaned to Greg and alarmingly whispered, "Greg, they're all black people!" "Shh," Greg cautioned, "I know." Greg looked around the small bar without moving, hoping to spot a pay phone without having to ask. He could feel every eye in the place on him and Michelle, staring at the white preppy-looking couple with suspicion, puzzlement, and awe that whites would dare intrude on their sanctum. The bar was barely more than a store front, with a long counter serving as the bar along one wall and a half dozen tables arrayed down the opposite wall. Greg could make out a billiard table at the other end of the room, a dim light with no shade hanging by the electric cable above it, and four black men standing around with pool cues in their hands, their game forgotten as they stared at the strangers at the door. Greg couldn't see a phone, so he forced himself to step to the end of the bar nearest the door and waited for the white-haired black behind the counter to come from the other end. The old black shuffled towards him, head bent to one side as he looked at Greg quizzically, half-dragging one deformed foot as he walked the length of the bar. He didn't speak as he stood in front of Greg, waiting to learn what the white couple were doing in his bar. Greg cleared his throat, then managed a croaking request, "do you have a phone we could use?" The barkeep nodded his head in understanding, then pointed toward the back of the room. "Back there. It's a pay phone." Greg patted the bare wood of the bar as he said, "thanks", then returned to Michelle's side. Together, they walked between the tables and bar toward the pool table in the back, carefully avoiding bumping into the chairs, neither of them permitting their eyes to meet the stares that were burning into them. As they were almost to the pool table, Greg saw the phone, stuck in the back corner of the building, a very large black man leaning against the wall beside it, pool cue resting on the floor. They threaded their way around the table to the phone nervously, sensing the animosity of the twelve to fifteen people in the room. Greg spoke to the big black man leaning beside the phone, "excuse me. Can I use the phone?" The big man stared at him with contempt burning in his eyes, then retorted in a deep voice, "it don't work." Sensing the black just didn't want him to use the phone, Greg reached for the receiver, meekly suggesting, "maybe it's working now." Before his hand could close on the receiver, the scowling black grabbed it from the phone hook and, with one powerful swing, broke it over the top of the metal phone case on the wall. "I tol' you, it don't work." Greg stood looking at the man in disbelief, his jaw falling open, then turned to look at Michelle, not sure what to do. He could see the fright in her eyes as she first looked at her husband and then the huge black man now standing with his hands on his hips, his face snarling. Michelle was afraid Greg would do something foolish and confront the angry black. He was at least six inches taller than Greg and probably a good fifty pounds heavier. Greg was no match for him. Just then, the bartender leaned over the bar and, in a whining voice, started, "now, Leroy...". Seeing Leroy take a step toward him, the old man left his sentence unfinished, clearly frightened of the younger and bigger black. Leroy boomed, "shut the fuck up, nigga." Leroy pushed past Greg, knocking him against the wall with his shoulder and, with three or four long strides, stepped to the bar in front of the visibly scared bartender. He grabbed the old man by the shirt with his left hand and jerked him forward and down, then rammed his head onto the bar with his other hand behind the gray head. Leroy roughly twisted the man's face so one cheek was flattened against the wood, then leaned over and spoke in his ear, the words too low for anyone else to hear. Whatever the big man said really put the fear of God in the bartender, because when Leroy released him, the old black quickly shuffled down to the other end of the bar, his eyes avoiding contact with others in the hushed room. He picked up an old rag and began to busily wipe the scarred wood surface of the bar. Someone in the dim room muttered a loud "oh, shit, Leroy's pissed." Immediately, four of the blacks sitting at tables noisily got up and made a hasty exit to the door, one of them knocking over his chair as he hurried to get out of there. An old man sitting at the middle of the bar slid off his stool, gripping his bottle of beer and followed the others out the door, shaking his head in apparent aggravation, but saying nothing. On his way back to the billiard table, Leroy paused at a table, leaned over and whispered something to one of two black men sitting there. The sitting black vigorously nodded his head and grinned, then turned to look at Greg and Michelle still standing next to the broken phone. He looked up at Leroy and spoke, his words only loud enough for the big man and the black sitting next to him to hear, then cackled. His words brought a loud guffaw from his buddy, who also turned and looked at the white couple. Leroy returned to the area of the pool table and again whispered something to one of the blacks still standing by the table with cue in hand, receiving another nod of approval from the obviously delighted man, one of the younger ones in the room, probably no more than in his early twenties. Greg and Michelle had been observing Leroy's actions nervously, not sure whether they should run out of the bar or what. Michelle leaned over to Greg and whispered, "Greg, I'm scared. We better leave." Greg nodded and, his arm around Michelle's waist protectively, began to walk through the narrow space between the pool table and wall. They got half the length of the table before Leroy blocked their path, his massive frame filling the small escape path. "Where you goin', white boy?" his deep voice boomed, his hands curled into fists resting on his hips. Greg's fear was revealed in his reply, "I-I, w-we need to find a phone." Leroy leaned his head back and laughed fiendishly, then glared into Greg's eyes. "Not until me and my brothers have some fun, you don't." Greg took a deep breath, then, with his arm tightening around Michelle's waist, he stepped to the side of the large black man in an effort to get around him. Leroy moved in unison to Greg, further blocking the couple's way, still glaring at the smaller white man. Greg's voice took on a pleading tone, "pl-please, let us pass." Without warning, Leroy's right arm swung backward in a short arc, then forward in a low blow to Greg's stomach, his massive fist almost lifting Greg's feet off the floor. Greg doubled over in pain and began to retch, his stomach reacting to the unexpected blow. Leroy planted his open palm on the top of the bent head before him and pushed, sending Greg backward to land on his ass on the tiled floor with a loud grunt. Michelle screamed, "Greg, oh, Greg!" She made a move to help her husband, now lying in a fetal position on the floor. Leroy grabbed her hair and slammed her against the wall, holding her there with her hair pulled above her head. "Leave him there, you white bitch. You got other things to do." As he spoke, Leroy used his other hand to cup one of Michelle's breasts, squeezing it painfully, causing her to wince with the pain and cry out in a tiny whimper. In the Ghetto "Eeeii, please, please don't," Michelle pleaded, her plea ending in another cry, "owww," as Leroy twisted his hand on her soft mound, her tiny hands covering his in a vain attempt to relieve the pressure. Her pleas made Leroy grin evilly, but he released her hair and breast, his hands dropping to her small waist, completely encircling her body. Leroy lifted her straight up and held her over his head, her feet dangling in front of his hips, her eyes wide with fear and bewilderment. Leroy turned and stood Michelle on the felt top of the pool table, then stepped back to examine her, his eyes focusing first on her feet in her white high heels, her tiny ankles, then moved up her shapely, tanned legs, admiring the muscles of her calves, the alluring curving that ended in her knees, then up to the white linen skirt Michelle was wearing, barely revealing her rounded thirty-four inch hips that pinched in to her twenty-four inch waist. Leroy stared at the flowery silk button-up blouse with a Nehru collar that Michelle had selected for her plane trip, his eyes burning into where her small breasts pushed against the silky material. Last, Leroy's stare examined Michelle's lovely face, appreciating her full lips, bare of any lipstick, her tiny button nose, and her beautiful green eyes. His eyes locked onto hers', willing Michelle to return his stare, her fear making it impossible for her to look away, like a deer caught in a car's headlights at night. Finished with his examination of the shaking woman standing awkwardly on the table, Leroy commanded, "strip for us, bitch. Take them clothes off." Michelle's eyes opened wider in disbelief, her mouth slightly opening as if to protest, but saying nothing. Hearing the big blacks' words, Greg had struggled to his knees, his hands gripping the edge of the pool table, then pushing him- self erect. "No, no, mister. L-leave her alone," Greg managed to blurt as he held his aching stomach. Angrily, Leroy's large hand swung in an arc, landing solidly on the side of Greg's head above his left ear with a loud smack. Greg went stumbling backward, falling against the wall, his head thumping hard as he went to the floor. "You shut your mouth, boy." Leroy stepped to where Greg lay and kicked him in the ribs, causing Greg to roll over on his stomach. Leroy reached down and stuck his hand in the back pocket of Greg's pants, then with a strong jerk, tore the pocket lose from the rest of the material, leaving a gaping hole that revealed Greg's underwear. When Leroy straightened, he had Greg's wallet in his big paw. He flipped the leather billfold open, saw several bills and withdrew them, stuffing the money in his pocket. Leroy then fished through the credit cards, selecting a couple and putting them with the money he had taken. He saw Greg's driver's license and pulled it out and studied it for a minute before sticking it in his pocket with the other loot before throwing the wallet on the pool table. Michelle cried out, "pl-please don't hurt him! Pleeease!" She stepped to the side of the table and leaned over to see if Greg was seriously hurt. Seeing the large red spot forming on his cheek and ear, Michelle turned her head toward Leroy and begged, "don't hit him again, please? I'll do what you say, just d-don't hit him any more." Her face emphasized her concern for her husband, her mouth turning down into a pout, her eyes beseeching. He pointed at two of the blacks standing on the other side of the bar and motioned to the half-unconscious Greg. They quickly went around the far end of the table and, each taking an arm, dragged Greg around the felt table to a chair and dropped him in it, his head again hitting the wall as the chair tilted backward, his eyes rolled back in his head. Leroy returned his attention to the visibly shaken girl on the table who was staring at her husband's limp body. He quickly reminded Michelle of his earlier command as though nothing had happened. "I said, take them clothes off, you white whore. Either you take them off, or I'll cut 'em off." As he finished his order, Leroy reached in his back pocket and withdrew a pearl handled straight razor. Then with a flick of his wrist, he flipped it open, revealing a long, shiny blade, holding it up for Michelle to see that he meant what he said. His last words caused a commotion at the tables in the front of the bar. Two black women had risen to their feet, their hands clutching the men they were sitting with, pulling the staring men from their seats. Leroy turned at the sound they had made and laughed, then turned serious as he spoke, "not you, Chantel. Sit yo ass down. Anyone else want to leave, you betta go now." The woman called Chantel immediately sat back down while the other woman, after slapping the back of the head of the man she was with, quickly pulled him out the door with her. Leroy took a step toward the tables, looking at where the woman he had called Chantel sat with a tall, skinny black man with glasses. "You git your ass out of here, too, Alphonse. We'll take care of your woman." The skinny black noticeably grimaced at the use of his proper name, knowing the ribbing he would receive, as he arose from his chair meekly, too afraid of the mean Leroy to argue. His fear of ribbing was quickly realized as a black at a table near him yelled out, "Alphonse? Alphonse? That you name, Al?" Then he bent over in helpless laughter. Another voice loudly advised, "you betta git home to yo mutha, Alphonse. She's lookin' fer you." More laughter followed as Alphonse made a hasty run for the door, his head bent in shame. Leroy pointed at the black at the table he had whispered to earlier, then at the door. The man quickly got up and went to the door and flipped the dead bolt, then stepped to the wall beside the bar and opened an electric circuit box, appeared to hunt for something, then flipped two switches, the snapping sound loud in the hushed room. Leroy turned back to face the pool table, and again raised the straight razor for Michelle to see. She hesitated briefly, staring at the blade reflecting the light above the table, then, her face reddening as tears appeared in her eyes, she reached for the top button of her blouse with shaking hands, fumbling with it until it came unfastened. Michelle went to the next button, then the next, and the last one above the waistband of her skirt. She pulled the silken material out of her skirt with trembling hands, smoothing it subconsciously around her hips before undoing the remaining button. Her hands dropped to her sides, the blouse opening slightly, as she prepared herself mentally to complete the black man's orders. Taking another deep breath, Michelle opened her blouse wide and removed it from first one shoulder and then the other, letting it slide down her left arm while gripping it with her right hand. She stood there holding the blouse, her white bra completely covering her breasts. She looked around for a place to lay the dainty covering, not wanting it to get soiled, then settled on dropping it on the edge of the pool table. The younger black standing by the side of the table guffawed, "hell, Leroy, look at those tits! I am gonna suck them dry." His belittling words made Michelle's face turn even redder and she crossed her arms over her chest. Leroy was aggravated by the interruption of the strip show and he growled at the young black, "shut up, BJ." Then he impatiently ordered Michelle, "get them clothes off, slut." Michelle jumped at his sharp voice and immediately dropped her arms and started to reach behind her to undo her skirt. Leroy halted her move with another sharp command. "Not the skirt, bitch. Take that bra off. Let me see your tits." Michelle obeyed, her eyes downcast, staring at some unseen spot on the felt at her feet, as she slipped first one strap off a shoulder and then the other, working her arms out of the thin, loosened, straps. With the straps hanging under her arms, Michelle worked the strap surrounding her chest around to the front, her small, cone-shaped breasts jutting out over the elastic material. Michelle undid the two hooks holding the bra together and bent over to place it on top of her blouse, her breasts slightly swinging, gravity pulling them away from her chest, shaping them like small funnels. When she straightened, she started to put her hands over her breasts, then caught herself, not wanting to further anger the mean-looking Leroy, and dropped her hands to her sides as she awaited his further command. Her now-bare chest brought several comments from the black men in the room. Even those who had been sitting at tables had approached the pool table to watch the white woman strip. Leroy's voice boomed again in his deep bass, "now the skirt, whore. We've seen enough of yer tits." Michelle demurely reached behind her and, uncovering the zipper, slid it down the back of her skirt, then she undid the solitary button at the waistband of the expensive linen garment, her mind thankful that she had on a new pair of panties devoid of any period stain while mortified that they would see she was wearing a pair of bikinis, shaped almost like a thong. No one other than Greg and her past boyfriends had ever seen her in her underwear and the shame of so many leering eyes watching her every move was almost unbearable. But Michelle continued her undressing, fighting to control and hide her embarrassment, as she worked the top of the skirt over her tanned belly and firm, muscular behind, slowly revealing the white lace undies that dipped from her rounded hips to just above her pubic mound. She heard a loud whistle as she bent to step out of the skirt surrounding her knees, the bending causing the silky material of her panties to wedge between the cheeks of her ass, giving the men behind her an enticing view of her white ass. She carefully folded the skirt and laid it on top of her other garments, always very neat, even in front of the lewd bunch of black men. When she straightened up, she looked around the smoke-filled room, avoiding the many eyes staring at her almost-naked body, calculating how many men were studying her, fearful of what they had planned for her and Greg. She saw that every man in the room, at least twelve, were all standing now, packed around the pool table like it was a dance floor in a strip club. The only figure she saw sitting was the woman Leroy had called Chantel, but even she was attempting to see through the gathering of men at the helpless white girl on the table. Leroy didn't waste any words, "the panties, cunt." Michelle winced mentally at the name, feeling further humiliated by the dominating black man referring to her by her privates as though that was all she was, a cunt. Still, almost mechanically, she complied, hooking her thumbs in the band of her panties and sliding them down over her hips, her slow movements even more tantalizing to the crowd, hearing lewd comments but not understanding them. Michelle stepped out of the bikinis and folded them, also, before placing them on the stack of clothing, shielding her shaved pubic bush with one hand as she bent and then straightened. Leroy crooked a finger at her, "c'mere, slut." Dutifully, Michelle walked to the end of the pool table where Leroy stood, her hand still modestly in front of her, partially covering her last vestige of decency. Leroy reached out and brushed her hand away roughly, his gesture making it clear that she wasn't to hide any of her body. He stared anew at her total nakedness, drinking in the smooth flow of her legs to her curvy hips, the tan line circling around her body half way down her belly, the barely visible navel, the hourglass shape of her torso, accentuated by her perky breasts. Lastly, he studied her face, his eyes piercing into her very soul, his stare telling her that she belonged to him, body and soul. She would be his slave, his eyes spoke. The young black named BJ had stepped to where Michelle had placed her clothes and picked up the weightless panties. He fingered the silk, then raised it to his flared nose to sniff her scent, inhaling the perfume of her body before slipping the garment into a pocket and returning his attention to the back of the naked white woman standing at the other end of the table, admiring the curvature of her smooth back, the firm-appearing ass so inviting. His entranced study of the naked figure was interrupted by Leroy saying, "put some music on the box, BJ. And not that damn rap shit, either. This white bitch is going to dance for us." His eyes locked on Michelle's and he prompted, "ain't you, whore?" Michelle looked down at the no longer scowling face of Leroy and was surprised that she hadn't seen his handsomeness before. Funny, she hadn't ever thought of blacks as being handsome, but she realized that this big man was. He didn't have the normal kinky hair of most blacks, his hair longer, and wavy, slicked down in something like a pompadour. His nose was flared, but barely, his thick lips sensual above a square-cut jaw set in smooth chocolate skin, devoid of any bumps or blemish. He had very broad shoulders that tapered from a chest bulging with muscles to a slender waist and hips, with his butt bulging outward like two compacted muscles waiting to explode with energy. She looked at his arms, admiring the huge knotted biceps with rope-like veins, his forearms smaller copies of his upper arms, his hands that of a laborer, fingers thick and strong. Michelle was brought back to conscious thought by Leroy repeating, "ain't you, bitch? You going to dance sexy for us." Michelle nodded, somewhat entranced by the commanding figure looking up at her. Hearing the music thumping in a slow jungle beat, it was like a switch had been turned on in her head, transporting Michelle from the terrifying surroundings to a more peaceful place, a place where only she could go, she began to sway, her high heeled feet moving in small rhythmic steps, turning slightly on her toes, bending her knees as she rolled her ass, her shoulders undulating sensually, her eyes closed as she moved to the music. Michelle loved to dance and often did so in private, possessing a skill that few white women had, the ability to move her body like a cat in harmony with the music. She was so mesmerized by the music, she didn't even hear the compliments from the crowd of men around her. "Damn, this ho' can dance!" and "man, look at that bitch. She's goo-ood!" She was brought back to reality only when the music ended, her body immediately regaining the composure and propriety with which she had been raised. Her eyes opened slowly and saw the appreciative praise in the black eyes looking up at her, causing her to question herself, her actions. She looked at Leroy, who was now smiling up at her, unvoiced compliment in his eyes. He broke the spell by ordering, "turn around, girl. Turn around and bend over." Michelle meekly did as told, standing near the edge of the table in front of the big man, her hands on her closed knees, her tits swaying beneath her. "Spread your legs, trash," Leroy added. Michelle again obeyed, slightly parting her feet, her legs half-spread. "Wider," Leroy ordered briefly. Michelle lifted one leg and planted it a good three feet from the other while she supported her upper body with her hands on her knees. "Hmm," she heard Leroy mumble, "that's one nice looking pussy." Leroy then stuck one thick finger in the closed lips of her pussy and pushed it in all the way to the third knuckle. Michelle winced from the rough insertion, but said nothing as the finger wiggled inside her, then withdrew. "Nice and tight, but dry as hell," Leroy observed as he stuck the finger in his mouth, sucking on it noisily. "But we goin' to fix that. We'll grease that hole up good." Leroy studied the puckered hole above the pouting lips and commented, "nice looking asshole, too." He pushed his saliva-wettened finger against the tight hole, causing Michelle to start to straighten up with alarm. His angry voice stopped her rising. "Stay like I tol' you, bitch!" Then he jammed the same finger inside her, forcing open the tight sphincter, his knuckles slapping against her exposed bottom. Michelle cried out, "ahhh, that hurts!" and again tried to straighten up, only to receive a painful slap on her bare ass as the finger plunged in and out, uninterrupted by her efforts to straighten and the tightening of her ass muscles against the intruding digit. Leroy used his other hand on her back to force her head down further, her ass now sticking straight up as her head was forced almost between her legs. As he held her there, Leroy cruelly worked his finger in and out, then added another finger, further stretching the previously unviolated hole. Michelle began to weep softly as she pleaded, "it hurts, it hurts. Please stop." Leroy ignored her and gradually worked another thick finger inside her punished asshole, the first three fingers of his hand ultimately becoming completely buried inside the hot hole. Finally, Leroy's probing of the sensitive cavity ended, and he took a handkerchief out of his pocket to wipe his smelly fingers, letting Michelle straighten up, her legs spread, not by command, but to ease the pain she was feeling in her bowels. Finishing with the no-longer white square of cloth, Leroy threw it on the floor, then looked up at Michelle, still standing with her back to him, and ordered, "git your ass down here, bitch." As though she was in a hypnotic trance, Michelle immediately complied with the order, turning around, then sitting on the table, she slid her ass over the edge until her feet touched the floor. She stood there with her hands to her sides, her eyes focused on the middle of Leroy's large, muscular chest, awaiting his will. Leroy reached out with both hands and grasped a nipple between thumb and fore- finger. The dark pink appendages were half-erect, either from fear or chill, and his vise-like grip on the flattened flesh made them spring to full erection. Leroy chuckled as he pulled downward on the nipples, stretching the skin of Michelle's small breasts into the shape of a pears. "Git on your knees, you cum bucket slut." His downward pull increased as Michelle slowly bent her knees and, bracing herself with her hands on the blacks hips, dropped to her knees, wincing at the pain in her breasts, as her eyes looked straight ahead at Leroy's lower belly. "Take my cock out of my pants, slut. See what you're going to get." He stood over her with his hands on his hips, making no effort to assist Michelle, wanting her to submissively uncover her awaiting penetrator. Obediently, Michelle reached out and grasped the zipper handle and pulled it down as far as it would go, then reached her tiny right hand inside the opening, feeling for underwear, surprised to find only thick, curly and matted, hair. She pushed her hand downward through the opening, her fingers encircling a very thick piece of meat, the flesh warm and soft to her touch, yielding as she tried to wrap her fingers around it, then beginning to stiffen as she pulled it upward toward the zipper. Michelle had taken Greg's cock out of his pants before, but it had never been as difficult, even when he wore tight jeans. Leroy's dick was bending where her thumb gripped it, pushing against the material of his pants, giving the appearance of some animal trapped in a bag as she pulled it upward, then moved her grip further toward the head and pulled some more, gradually working the long member in an arc until it was vertical. "How long is this thing?" Michelle questioned mentally. Her efforts to remove the swelling cock was making it grow and stiffen, increasing the difficulty of removing it. After at least a minute of effort, Michelle succeeded, the cock springing forth through the open zipper, the head barely making it past the top of the opening only because of Michelle's final tug. In the Ghetto Michelle's eyes opened wide at the sight before her. She knew the black man's dick was big from her efforts at removing it from his pants, but what she was staring at now was huge! At least by her standards of measurement, which only consisted of the three dicks she had seen in her life time. Two were from flashers and the third was her husband's, none of them capable of comparing with what was now pointing at her face. Michelle wasn't good at calculating the size of objects, but she could see that the dark brown cock was at least the size of the business envelopes she used at work, and they were ten inches in length. The object in front of her had her spellbound as she studied it, her tiny white hand still wrapped around it, the tips of her fingers barely touching, the cooked-liver-colored head slowly becoming unsheathed as the body hardened, stretching the chocolate skin tight, rope-like veins twisting around the surface, the vertical eye in the head seeming to wink at her. Michelle wasn't the only one impressed with Leroy's dick, as someone spoke with amazement, "you the man, Leroy. You the man!" Others that could see his massive tool murmured in agreement, envious of the big man's big dick. Leroy interrupted her fascination of his penis. "Stroke it, you cock loving slut. Feel what you goin' to git." Michelle couldn't believe her willingness to do as Leroy directed, his names for her no longer causing her to cringe. She attempted to question why she was now accepting her humiliation, her degradation, without protest even. "Could it be fear? No, she was past that, numb to further fright. Could it be acceptance of her fate? Maybe." Michelle couldn't explain it to herself as she stroked the huge prick, first with the tips of her fingers, then with her hand half-circled around the shaft. "Mmmm, that feels good, whore. Now, kiss it. Put your white lips on my black cock and kiss it, all over." Michelle noticeably shuddered at the thought of her lips touching a black man's skin, but proceeded to do as told, keeping her lips closed tightly as she gave the now-hard cock pecks from one end to the other. "Use your tongue, cunt. Kiss it right," Leroy demanded. Mentally resisting but physically complying, Michelle opened her mouth slightly and stuck out her tongue, running the tip up and down his dick. When her tongue touched the tip, Leroy's cock jumped with excitement, striking her nose before settling back to it's position slightly above horizontal. "Gawd, that's so good," Leroy breathed, then began to undo his pants and let them fall to the floor, then kicked out of them. "Lick my nuts, too, you piece of white shit. Smell what a MAN smells like." Michelle had to raise Leroy's dick against his belly to obey his command, tilting her head sideways as she licked the tightened nut sack, wrinkled and covered with tight curly black hairs. His cock rested against her cheek as she licked his large balls, precum slowly dripping from the eye, adhering to her smooth skin. Michelle's nose was assailed by the musk of the big man, a scent like an animal, not as unpleasant as she had imagined. Leroy grasped her head in his two large hands and pulled her away from his dick and nuts, pushing her head backwards to look up at him. "You like my black cock, don't you bitch?" Before Michelle could say anything, Leroy revised his words, "no, you LOVE my black cock, don't you?" He stared into her eyes hypnotically, waiting for the reply that Michelle couldn't bring herself to repeat. Leroy moved his hands to her nipples, having to bend over to reach them, and fiercely squeezed the distended, sensitive skin, making Michelle jerk with the sudden pain. "Tell me you love my black cock, whore, or I'll tear these things off." "Oww," Michelle cried out softly, then agreed, "yes, mister, yes." Leroy prompted, "Say you love my black cock! And call me 'Master'." "I-I, I love your bl-black cock, M-Master," Michelle managed to blurt out, her eyes watering with the pain in her nipples, her face turning beet red beneath her tanned skin from the humiliation enforced upon her. "Ha, ha," Leroy's voice boomed. "I know you do, you white whore. All youse white women do." As emphasis, Leroy grasped his dick at the base and slapped it against her cheek. "Now, I'll let you suck it, you shit slave." He held it against her lips and pushed forward slightly with his hips in a silent command, grinning as Michelle's mouth opened obediently and inserted the head into her hot cavity. She had to stretch her mouth to the limit in order to get the entire head past her lips, her tongue unintentionally brushing against the dripping eye, the taste of precum instantly causing her mouth to water. Leroy felt the increased moisture of her mouth and laughed. "Yeah, you love it, you cheap slut. Your mouth shows it." He wrapped his hands in her hair and pushed forward with his hips, the huge cock ramming into her mouth to the top of her throat. With another push, Leroy forced his cock through the narrow opening, his pubic hairs smashing against her lips, instantly causing Michelle to gag, her hands flying out to push against his hips in vain as Leroy's grip in her hair impaled her face on his full ten inches of hard meat. Michelle's throat spasmed for against the hard intruder, her lungs heaving for air, as her mouth opened even wider in a gag reflex. Her feeble efforts only made the sensation to Leroy's dick greater and he held her tightly for a full minute, reveling in the convulsing of the helpless white girl's throat muscles on the head of his cock. Leroy finally released Michelle's head when he saw her weakening from lack of air. She immediately pushed hard against him with both hands, knocking herself over backwards, her body bending at the knees, her legs pinned under her as she retched helplessly and her lungs worked to regain breathing. Michelle rose on one elbow as she attempted to regain some composure, but was quickly knocked on her face as Leroy swung his booted foot hard against her ass, profanely chastising her. "You god-damned bitch! Don't you EVER do that again! When you suck my dick, you better not gag." He drew back his foot to kick her again and Michelle quickly scooted up against the legs of the pool table to escape another painful blow. Michelle whined, "I'm sorry, I'm sorry. I couldn't help it." She pulled herself into a tight fetal curl, her hands covering her head, her ass and back still facing the angry Leroy. Leroy didn't swing his foot as her exposed ass, but bent down and slapped the white skin with his open hand, the sound like a firecracker exploding in the small room. "Master, bitch. I tol' you to call me 'master'." Michelle flinched from the stinging slap and drew her knees up tighter against her bare breasts. "Master, master," she cried. "I'm sorry." Her quick acquiescence to hi command seemed to appease Leroy, as he grabbed her by the hair and pulled her to a sitting position. "Get up, you cock loving whore. I'm going to teach you a real lesson." Michelle couldn't help but struggle to her feet as Leroy continued to pull on her hair. When she was standing facing him, Leroy put his large hand under her chin and raised her face so her eyes met his. "You gonna have to learn to suck a real dick, girl. A black man's dick. An' you going to learn to do it without that gagging shit." His eyes burned into her's and he questioned, "do you understand, slut?" Michelle nodded as much as she could with her chin locked in the grip of the huge hand. He turned to the men observing his belittlement of the naked white men and asked, "ain't that right, bro's?" "Yeh, yeh," some of them responded, while the white-hating Ras spoke his feelings, "that's right, Leroy. Let's make this white shit whore suck ALL our dicks. Make her cum-drunk, the shit-eating piece of trash." While he spoke, Ras began undoing his pants, pulling his hard dick through the zipper and stroking it meaningfully. Leroy cooled them all, "not yet, you assholes. I'm going to get her first." He spun Michelle around and bent her over the pool table, slamming her face down on the felt top, her toes barely touching the floor. He shoved her legs apart with his and, holding his massive hard in one hand, rested it against her hairless pussy lips, then slid it up and down the closed opening, muttering about the dry hole. He reached for her arms and pulled them behind her back and crossed them at her waist, one giant hand locking them together in a powerful grip. Satisfied that Michelle couldn't move, Leroy then suddenly rammed his hips forward, instantly opening her pussy in one brutal shove. Michelle screamed, "agghhhh, you're hurting me!" as she attempted to twist her body about and her legs flailed the air on each side of Leroy's. Leroy pushed again, slamming his pubis hairs against her ass, and Michelle screamed louder, "oh, god, god, it's tearing me. Oh, please, please, pleeease!" Leroy used his free hand to slap Michelle on the side of her head, reddening her ear as he reminded her, "master, bitch, say master." Even through the pain coursing through her innards, Michelle knew she had to obey and croaked out the words, "master, please, please, you're hurting me." Leroy only grinned as he withdrew his dick to where just the swollen head was buried inside the tight hole, then plunged forward again, the entire ten inches of hardened muscle slamming inside her, punching her inner organs brutally. "You'll get used to it, bitch, so shut your fuckin' crying." After at least six long strokes inside the tortured channel, Michelle began to feel her pussy loosen, her un-willed lubricant beginning to permit the large cock to slide in and out without the previous friction. She relaxed her body and completely submitted to Leroy's pummeling of her love cavity, beginning to feel sensation return to the brutalized organs, her body betraying her by its response to the pistoning cock. Abruptly, Leroy withdrew his cock completely from the now-wettened cunt, his breathing noticeably heavier. "Damn, that's good pussy! Hot and tight." He continued to hold Michelle's arms pinned to her back as he panted, "now, I want some of this white ass." Leroy placed his now-slick dick against the puckered hole, still stretched from his earlier probing, and worked the head in circles, rubbing the mix of his precum with Michelle's pussy juices over the tight hole. Satisfied the small hole was ready, Leroy began a steady forward push with his hips, the massive head of his cock pushing against the flesh surrounding Michelle's asshole, depressing the area into the pelvic opening, the resistance causing his prick to bend with the force behind it. Leroy wrapped one huge hand around his cock for support and continued to push. Slowly, agonizingly, the blood-filled head began to spread the orifice, the surrounding muscle giving way to the intruding dick. As if it was an opening gate, Michelle's sphincter suddenly swallowed the complete bulbous head with a small popping noise. Michelle's back arched upwards with the tearing stretching of her tender asshole and she screamed loudly, "aaaiiieeee, god, god, oh, stop, stop,". Her small hands were clinched in tight fists, the tanned knuckles turning white as her fingernails cut into the palms of her hands and her arms struggled anew against the grip of the black man tearing into her bowels. Tears streamed down her face as Michelle continued to cry out, her voice breaking into sobs as Leroy's big dick pressed forward, forcing her bowels to straighten to accept his hard, ten inch cock, the friction pushing her anus and colon further inside her. Then, with a final lunge, the punishing tool was buried completely in her bowels, bringing the loudest scream yet from Michelle's lungs, her head collapsing on the dirty felt with a thud as the scream ended. She was in too much pain to hear the jokes made at her expense, comments on how her asshole would never be tight again, and how she wouldn't even feel a turd come out of that hole again. The blacks watching Leroy's plundering of the white woman's asshole were receiving almost as much pleasure from the event as was Leroy, a prurient pleasure, one born of hatred for whites in general, a retribution of sorts for past treatment. The sound of her scream appeared to revive Greg as he startled upright in the chair by the wall, his eyes flying open in disbelief as he saw his beloved wife being fucked in the ass by a black, a 'nigger', he thought in derogatory terms. It was more than he could stand, and Greg struggled to his feet, the need to help his wife overcoming momentarily his fear of pain or death. But he didn't get far as a fist came crashing against his chest, knocking him back into the chair and knocking the wind out of him. A black man standing beside him leaned and whispered in his ear, "you better stay put, man, or Leroy will cut your throat. Just a word of advice, is all. I tell you, he's mean and he hates whites, so you better just leave it alone." Greg thought of the man's words, not even looking to see who had advised him, and quickly realized the man was probably right, that he didn't stand a chance against the odds he would face if he did anything. And then, what would happen to Michelle? Greg had the cold realization that they would be lucky to escape with their lives, and he had to avoid doing anything that would further jeopardize them. In resignation, Greg buried his face in his hands, resting his arms on his knees, not feeling the pain any longer from the blows he had received, just wanting the ordeal to end. Leroy was unsympathetic to the white girl's misery and, after a couple of long strokes in and out of the smelly hole, he held it buried in her as he released her arms from his grip and transferred his hands to her hips. Leroy gripped the white hips tightly and backed up, pulling the limp, sobbing Michelle off of the table as he kept his dick impaled inside of her. Michelle had to catch herself with her arms against the rail of the pool table as Leroy backed up, his hard cock supporting her lower body, his hands keeping her ass against his belly, her toes completely off the floor. Another step backward by Leroy and Michelle lost her grip on the table, her upper body flopping downward as she tried to use the muscles of her back to straighten, the bending of her body bringing fresh pain to her innards as the huge black cock was forced to another position inside her. Leroy's hands left Michelle's white hips and went to her back, bending her in two as he pushed downward, his body bending with hers. When they were both bent over as far as possible, Leroy reached around Michelle's long legs and grabbed each one, the large hands completely encircling the legs just above the kneecaps. Leroy immediately straightened, holding Michelle's legs tight to her breasts, her ass now bent in a smooth arc, her pussy pointing straight ahead instead of downward, revealing the convoluted lips that had been stretched beyond normal, the bright pink skin of her pussy like a neon in the dim room. The secret passage to Michelle's birth cavity lay open for all those in front of her to see, a dark, beckoning tubular corridor, still dripping with her juices. The bending of her body in such a torturous position had at least pulled the large cock inside of her out a couple of inches, but Michelle still felt no relief from the fullness her bowels were experiencing, the pain still evident on her face along with the humiliation of her complete bottom being revealed for all of the leering men to see. But the humiliation was not over for Michelle. Michelle heard Leroy's booming voice in her ear as he asked the room, "who wants some of this white pussy? We'll give this slut two black dicks." Leroy's question was almost needless, as all of the blacks in the room wanted some of Michelle's pussy, as well as the rest of her holes. There was a lot of laughter and jostling, but the burly black named Ras was the one who stepped forward first, jamming his middle finger in Michelle's unprotected cunt to the hilt. "I'll fuck this bitch, man. Give me that pussy and I'll tear it up." Leroy didn't care who shared the girl with him, so he instructed Ras as he held Michelle in the air, "get on the table then, Ras, where I can set her sloppy pussy on yer little dick." Ras blustered as he dropped his pants and sat down on the edge of the table, "shit, Leroy, ain't nothing little about this." He shook his already hard dick as emphasis, one hand wrapped around the dark meat, another two or three inches showing above it. Ras' dick wasn't as big as Leroy's, but it was still a good eight inches, and quite thick. "I ain't never had no complaints," he laughed. Leroy carried Michelle to the edge of the table, her arms helplessly dangling beside her as she looked at the next black dick that was about to enter her, the shame of her experience turning her face red again, the sadness and hopelessness revealed in her eyes. She felt like an object, a piece of meat, as Leroy positioned her open bottom above Ras' waiting dick. She felt the firm, velvety tip pass her pussy lips, then a sudden entry as Leroy released the weight of her body to fall on both his dick and that of the black on the table. His hands had released her legs as Leroy had achieved his goal, going to her back to push her over on top of the grinning Ras. His odor assailed her nostrils, the smell of sweat and beer unfamiliar to her and she quickly moved her head to one side to escape the blacks' smell. Her attention was soon diverted from avoiding the odor of the humping form beneath her as both dicks began to slide in and out of her abused holes in unison, the heads of their dicks bumping together through the skin of her organs with each thrust inside her, her entire lower body feeling full with foreign objects, pushing against her, stretching every part of her genitals, their breathing a cadence to the fucking of her cavities. Michelle began to feel her body respond to the massaging of her nerve endings by the two impaling dicks, and shame flushed all over from head to toes, the color coursing from her head, through her torso, and down each limb, turning the white skin bright red and the tanned a reddish tan. She couldn't believe her body would betray her, would yield to the pleasure beginning in her loins and spreading up her body, causing her sex juices to begin to flow, her breathing becoming shallow and more rapid. "This can't be," Michelle thought, then tried to will her body to stop the increasing response. "I can't enjoy this, I can't, I can't," she repeated to herself. "It's rape, that's all. It doesn't feel good." Her thoughts were fruitless as her nerve endings in her vagina, her clit were stimulated more and more, even the long dick buried in her ass giving her sensations she had never felt before, new feelings, new pleasure. Michelle felt herself slipping, her resolve to not enjoy the plunging dicks melting away, her primordial sex urges taking control as her hips began to move with the fucking cocks, grinding into them, pinching them with her muscles, her mouth opening in sexual abandonment. Her open mouth proved to be an invitation to another black as she felt a dick being pushed into her mouth, smaller than the others in her, but just as hard. Michelle began to suck erotically without thinking, hungrily sucking the love tool into her mouth, completely yielding now to her previously hidden sex drive, becoming a rutting animal in place of the reserved woman she had always been. The black in her mouth exclaimed, "this bitch likes it, Leroy. She likes it. Man, look at this cunt suck it." Leroy grunted as he stroked Michelle's ass long and slow, "uh-huh, uhhh, uhh, I knew the cock loving cunt would."