Ch.02
Christy attempted to straighten her torn blouse as the elevator dinged ever closer to the ground floor of the hotel. The front of it was stained heavily with piss, spit, and cum, and almost all the buttons were missing from it after its violent removal from her body. She'd been in such a hurry to get out of the hotel room that she'd only barely glanced over herself before making her way to the elevator. Sighing heavily, she dragged a small pocket mirror from her bag and inspected her face. Sure enough, her upper lip was split in two places, and she could see a bruise beginning to form around her right eye. Thankfully, most of it was hidden by her large sunglasses.
She looked like a prostitute. Her hair was mussed and clumped where globs of cum had hardened, her makeup was streaked and smeared across her cheeks, and dried cum-crust caked her chin and neck. Bite marks and hickeys dotted her collarbone and throat, along with several yellowing patches of skin where she'd been struck repeatedly. She was not just a prostitute; she looked like an extremely cheap prostitute who had just been thoroughly beaten by her pimp. “Not fucking far from the truth...” Christy mused to herself.
William had spent the past day using her like a disposable sex toy, abusing her holes and body however he desired. He hadn't stopped when she passed out, began to cry, or told him she would have him deported. Eventually, Christy had simply given up on resisting his abuse, seeing no point in struggling against something that was going to happen regardless. It was the wild fluctuations between tender care and affection and unmitigated violence that left her the most confused. Did he love her, or did he hate her? Both emotions seemed to be present in equal measure.
Christy had reasoned that the violence was simply part of William's nature as a black man. There was nothing he could do to quell that part of his soul, and that was part of the reason why God's grace would never favor him as it had her. But after having spent a dozen hours being subjected to the man's whims, Christy had begun to wonder if that violence wasn't justified in some way. After all, his kind had spent the better part of 400 years being abused in a similar fashion. Wasn't it only fair for him to exact his revenge on her for those racial slights?
She gingerly pressed at one of the splits on her lip and hissed. “He could have at least kissed me goodbye... ungrateful ape…”. With that, the doors of the elevator opened to the lobby, and Christy stepped out, tucking her mirror back into her bag. The concierge that she'd spoken to when checking in was at the desk, seemingly just starting her shift. She immediately spotted Christy, and the biggest shit-eating grin snaked across her face as she studied the condition Christy was in.
Christy glanced over to the sliding doors of the entrance; the dark morning tempted her to flee instead of facing the scrutiny of the small woman now clearly beckoning her over. Gritting her teeth, Christy curved her path to stand in front of the counter for checkout. “God, it must have been fucking amazing.” The petite woman made a show of looking Christy over as she spoke. A small grin crept onto Christy's face, causing the splits to tingle as her lips stretched.
“Yes, well, willi—I mean, my husband can be.” Christy started to offer some excuse or reason for her condition, but the small woman shook her head and cut her off.
“Don't worry, senator. I know what's up. “Snowbunnies of a feather," right? Your secret is safe with me, and I want you to know our community stands behind you ten thousand percent. What you're doing is fucking glorious!” She reached out and placed a reassuring hand over Christy's.
“The movement is ready and waiting for you to pull the trigger. We've been waiting for this for years, and it's finally happening. I can't wait to see the look on my boyfriend's face when the tides shift. He's going to shit himself, haha!”
Christy gaped at the woman, not comprehending what she was saying. What movement? Pull the trigger on... what, exactly? A creeping dread settled neatly into Christy's gut as it dawned on her that she'd somehow found herself embroiled in machinations beyond her grasp. How much about her affair did this woman truly know? What the hell was a snowbunny? “I'm… I don't know what you're talking about. I'm not a senator!”
The small woman behind the counter simply winked, “Of course, Mrs. Temrin! My mistake. I've checked you out; please forget what I've said and have an amazing day.” Christy lingered a moment, contemplating whether or not to grill the young woman, but ultimately her sore ribs won out, and she turned for the door. “Stay strong, sister! Black lives matter!”.
The small clerk called after Christy, and she swung her head to reply as she'd been taught by William, “White lives don't!”. It came automatically, casually, like answering some banal greeting from a stranger on the street. There wasn't even a second thought in her head before she spoke the words, and immediately Christy was flushed with supreme embarrassment and confusion. What was she saying?! To a stranger, no less! In public, no less. This wasn't right; God damnit all, this wasn't who she was!
Christy was unreasonably proud of her white skin; she had been since she was a child. Growing up, she'd watched on as opportunity after opportunity was granted to her over her dark-skinned counterparts. Grades in school, boyfriends, job offers, pay, and benefits. There wasn't a single thing that she hadn't been prioritized for. She was aware of the gentrified nobility of her ******, aware that they'd been well-to-do, and had just automatically attributed their success to the color of their skin. Whites won, blacks lost. That was the way of the world for Christy.
Her parents had fought viciously to reinforce that point throughout her life by condemning those of other races. Warning Christy that they were all degenerates, criminals, and pure evil in both the eyes of the law and the Lord. After enough encouragement, Christy had no problem relating her own white skin to innocence and the dark browns and blacks to vile guilt and evil. So why was it, then, that William filled her with so much desire? So much lust, passion, and thrill?
She nearly sprinted out the sliding doors of the hotel in an effort to escape the shame and guilt of having so blatantly betrayed her race. She'd never felt so utterly conflicted in her life, so lost and confused by the emotions she was feeling. She needed to get home. She had to get home and into the shower so that she could sort out her mind. Ryan would be there, and likely her children, too. The thought disgusted her.
No, that wasn't right! Christy shook her head as her heels clacked across the asphalt. Where did that thought come from? She loved her ******, loved Ryan, and loved her kids, so why did the thought of seeing them make her feel like crying? She bumped into her Escalade and began to rummage through her bag for her keys. This was Williams' fault. He'd done something to her; he drugged her somehow. He'd poisoned her mind so that the thought of her white ****** brought her discomfort.
"Shiiiiiit's a nice whip you got, bitch!” Christy froze at the words, her hand clenching around her keys as she slammed her eyes shut. “The fuck you doin’ drivin’ sum like dat?”. It was a deep, harsh voice. It cracked and rolled with a tense threat of violence that Christy was all too familiar with, having met William. “Ay, I'm speakin’ atchu woman!” A massive hand clamped around Christy's shoulder and forcibly spun her to face whoever it was that had approached her.
Her eyes fluttered open, and she scanned the parking lot around her; it was utterly void of life, save for the man and herself. Just her luck. “Get your hand off me, you filthy nigger! I've got a taser!” Christy jostled her bag in an attempt to bluff her way out of the situation, but the black man simply looked both ways before driving a closed fist into Christy's already-sore stomach. The wind rushed from her lungs, and she doubled over the man's arm.
“Nah, see, I know you're Williams Hoe. Nigga said you'd be steppin’ out ‘round now. I ain't playin’; open up this ride or you end up on the Daily's.” Christy wheezed as the man shoved her back up against the door of her SUV. “That's it, nice and’ easy.” Christy produced the fob for her vehicle and hit the unlock button. With a chirp, the locks disengaged, and the man opened the back door before shoving Christy through it.
For a moment, Christy thought she was being kidnapped, but once the man stopped shoving her onto the seat, she felt the buckle to her slacks loosen and then her pants slide down around her ass. “Seriously?! You're ****** me?! In the middle of a fucking parking lot?! Are you insane?!” The man chuckled and ran his palm over her dripping pussy before stroking himself with it. Christy had a hard time tracking his movements, bent over as she was.
“William said you was available all hours. The fuck do you think I'ma do? Book you a room? Hell Naw, tricks like you milk loads in parking lots, s’how it is.” Christy grunted as the man mounted her; she could smell the weed and booze on him like a miasma. Fucking William, what had he done? “Ahhhhhh shit, tighten up ya cunt, I can't feel shit!” The man slapped Christy's ass, and she yipped, squeezing her muscles as best she could. “Fuuuuck das mo’ like it, slut! Getchu sum dat!” The man began to thrust in earnest, and Christy moaned.
She was incredibly horny. Despite herself, she was absolutely drenched. She'd felt it the moment the man called out to her; a small throb of excitement was sent coursing up her spine as his words beat against her eardrums. The ache in her crotch overwhelmed the pain from the numerous parts of her body that had been worked over by William. She hated it. She seethed at how easily her body had yeilded to the man, and to William, for that matter. She hated the fact that she was loving every single second of being used by this stinking, homeless filth.
But his cock wasn't quite as... burly as Williams, and his thrusts were more erratic and lethargic. It still felt amazing—better than literally anything her husband had done to her over the course of her marriage—in fact. But she wanted him deeper; she needed to feel his hips destroying her pure-white ass cheeks as he ravaged her tight, wet pussy. And then she had an idea. “Is your cock even in? I thought you coons all had fat cocks. You lost yours in a turf war?”
Her taunts had the desired effect, and the man snagged a fistfull of her hair as he began to beat her guts with his dick. Christy laughed and moaned as the man rode her from behind. “C’mon, nigger, fuck that tight, wet little pussy! It's yours, right?! Fuck it!” Christy heard the man grunt, and the pace picked up yet again. Now he was fucking her how she wanted: hard, and like she owed him money. He slapped a hand across her ass, and she gasped out another moan as an orgasm rolled through her body.
“Yee! Yee, you like that dick, don't you, bitch?! Get it! Get it! I'ma nut all up in it!” Again, his hand clapped across Christy's ass, and she wailed with delight. She had started thrusting her hips back into him, meeting his hips part way in order to coax out every bit of pleasure she could. The man was breathing hard and grunting, very clearly about to drop his load inside her.
“Yes! Yes! Oh God, deep inside me! Fuckin’ fill it! Give it to me!” Christy cried out as she felt the man begin to lose his rhythm. A moment later, he ground his hips into her, wrenching back on her head and waist in order to plant his seed as deep inside her as he could. Christy clenched her teeth through a bone-creaking climax, her muscles locking up and forcing her to howl into the seat of the car as she squirted all over the asphalt.
The man's warm seed pulsed into her—something she'd grown familiar with since William came into her life. It seemed to bleed its warmth into her stomach and thighs, the hot, potent cum spreading out in search of her vulnerable white eggs. “Unnnggghh fuuuuuck! Get your… ugh… get your filthy fuckin’ prick out of me!” Christy wiggled her hips, and the man's rapidly softening cock slid out of her with a wet pop. “oof! Ahhh, fuck, satisfied now? Touch me again, and I'm having you executed.”
The man retracted the hand that was reaching for her open blouse. “The fuck you will! Will said you belong to the streets; you ain't doin’ shit to a nigga like me!” Christy winced as the man called her bluff, but he didn't resume his attempt to grope her. She used the brief moment of respite to turn over and pull her slacks back up; there was no saving them, as the crotch had already soaked through with Williams' previous loads.
“So, what the fuck do you want? You're still here, and you just fucked a load into me, so what do you want?” She tugged on what was left of her blouse, trying to cover her bare chest as much as the garment would allow. “I've got places to be, so spill it.” Christy tried her best to sound aggrieved, but she knew the pleasure and attraction in her voice were undermining her attempt to seem frustrated.
“Gimme yo' wallet.” The man said it dumbly, as though he wasn't actually expecting her to do it. It was clear he hadn't had much of a plan other than to use her pussy, and once he'd done that, he had run out of ideas. Christy stared blankly into his big brown eyes for a moment before rolling her own.
“Ugh, I don't know what I was expecting from one of your kind.” She reached into her bag and pulled out her wallet, which surprised the man.
“Ayo, seriously?” He started to reach out for it, and Christy snapped back.
“Of course not! You fucking idiot. You think I'd just hand it over with all my shit in it?! I'm giving you the cash since that's all you fucking care about anyway. Jesus, you people need help. I've got two hundred on me, which I'm sure is more than you've seen in months. At least use some of it in a fucking shower.” Christy aggressively yanked the bills out of her cash fold and slapped them into the man's waiting hand.
"Haha, you aw’ight fo’ a cunt, I'ma tell Will you did right by me! Aye, but dat kid ain't mine if yo’ ass gets prego. You on ya own fo’ dat.” He turned and started to count the bills as he walked off into the dark morning.
Christy leaned back against the seat of her Escalade and sighed. “Of course I am. Figures.” Blowing a loose strand of hair from her face, she shut the rear door and climbed up into the driver's seat. The cum stains in the crotch of her slacks were cold against her skin as she settled into the seat and turned her phone back on. As it powered on, she pulled her cigarette case out of her bag and quickly lit one. The harsh smoke burned on its way to her lungs, and she savored the sensation. Smoking after sex gave her such a uniquely satisfying feeling that she wondered why she had ever hated it so much.
She'd specifically turned down several donations from tobacco lobbyists on principle. She shook her head, feeling foolish for not accepting the ludicrous amount of money they'd offered. Being in the position she was in now had afforded her a new perspective on the sins she had so cautiously avoided. “In for a penny...” her phone dinged, and she scooped it up to see several missed calls from her husband. Christy groaned as she opened her texts.
"Babe, what the fuck? Where are you? The guy at your office said you hadn't been there. Bella missed her thing because you weren't here! Also, I don't know how to work the stupid laundry machine, so the kids don't have clean clothes today! "You made me look stupid in front of the kids!” Smoke trailed out of Christy's nostrils as though she were about to breathe fire. She would kill Ryan. That was the only possible recourse. She would murder him and then get William to make it look like a robbery gone wrong. The tabloids would have a field day covering his untimely end.
The thought pleased Christy. And as she continued to imagine the various ways she would terminate her useless, limp-dick loser of a husband, her hand made its way to her crotch. She could still get out of her SUV and go back up to Williams' hotel room. She could walk back through that lobby, ride the elevator up, and plant herself firmly on Williams' massive black cock instead of going home to deal with her piece of fucking shit husband. but she wouldn't.
Traffic was beginning to pick up in the parking lot for morning check-in, and she had business that needed to be attended to. Her press conference to address the infamous picture was the next day, and she needed to rehearse her speech and go over possible questions. There was too much to get done for her to run back up into Williams' incredibly well-muscled arms. Christy sighed and withdrew her hand from her crotch before starting the Escalade. If Ryan was awake when she got home, she would have a hard time explaining her state to him.
Did she even need an excuse? Should she even try to lie at this point? What the fuck would he do? Leave her? Christy fucking hated him, so a divorce wouldn't even be the worst outcome. Maybe then William could come to her house. The thought excited her. Maybe she would just tell him that she'd been out all night, fucking a hung nigger! Christy grinned as she pulled out of her stall. Ryan would shit his heart out if he learned his up-tight, right-wing power wife was letting some immigrant turn her cunt inside out unprotected.
----------
Christy's house wasn't palatial, but it wasn't quaint either. The three-story mansion sat in a gated community and, at the time she'd bought it, had been worth 1.2 million dollars. It had since tripled in value as the housing market continued to swell. The gate guard tipped his hat as Christy rolled up to the checkpoint. "Mornin', Mrs. Mezlené! Out burnin’ that midnight... oil?... Sweet baby Jesus, Christy, are you alright?”
The guard picked up on her condition immediately, and Christy simply smiled back. “Coal, actually, John! I was burning coal all night long. I'm tired, I'm sore, and I need a shower. My office has a long flight of stairs, and I'm pretty sure I hit every single one on the way down.” John laughed nervously as he attempted to go along with Christy's nonchalance, but the concern never left his eyes.
“You guys ever find out who jumped your boy? Hear, he should be out of the hospital soon! I had my office send a bouquet to his room; did you get it?” Christy gave John a lifeline by diverting the conversation, and he latched onto it like a drowning man.
“No, ma’am! You know how it is—all those dark skins all look the same. The police even brought mugshots for Tom to go over, but he couldn't pick anyone out of the bunch. We got those flowers! It was really nice of you to do that for our boy. If you ever need anything, all you have to do is hollar at us, and’ we'll be there for ou!" Christy nodded to the man and bid her farewell before the gate began to retract.
Naturally, Christy knew exactly who'd jumped Tom. William had gone on in detail about how he'd sent one of his thugs after the boy as a “warning shot." Christy didn't particularly appreciate that he'd relayed his threat while pummeling her cervix, but she had to admit that it certainly made for an intense orgasm. Hearing John talk about the situation had caused Christy to get wet all over again, and she smiled to herself as she drove up her driveway. Reveling in these small sins made her feel incredible.
The front lights were on, and she could see the definite flashing of a TV screen in the main living room window. Ryan was awake and, very likely, waiting for her to come home so he could bitch at her like a scorned housewife. But Christy wasn't in the mood for it, not this morning, not after being with a real man like William. She wasn't about to let some little bitch-ass punk walk all over her.
She stepped out of the SUV and did a final check on her clothes before stepping up to the door and entering her house. Christy tossed her keys into the bowl on the stand next to the door and kicked off her heels. It felt good to be out of them. William had made her wear them for the majority of their time together because he liked how they looked on her feet. There was a grunt from the living room around the corner, and Christy braced herself.
“Babe…? Is that you?” Ryan called out as she made her way to the end of the foyer.
"Yep, I just got back. I'm going to take a shower and have a nap.” There was no response to that, and Christy wondered if he was in the middle of gaming with his "boys." If he was, she likely wouldn't have to deal with him for at least a few hours, depending on how pissed he thought he was.
“Babe, we gotta talk! Can you come here?” The false authority in Ryan's voice made Christy's skin crawl. It was a pale and pathetic mockery of the true authority that men like William could wield. Christy's eyes rolled so hard she thought she could see the underside of her brain.
“Seriously? Right now? I need to fucking shower, Ryan! I'm tired and not in the mood for your little bitch-fit. Go back to gaming with your boyfriend's, and we'll talk after I've rested, ok?” Christy started making her way to the stairs leading to the main washroom on the second floor when a bang and shuffling originated from the living room. God, he was so annoying.
“No! I want to talk now. You were out all fucking evening and then over night! I had to cancel my plans with the boys because our sitter couldn't cover last-minute, so thanks for ruining my night! And what's this shit about a picture?! When were you going to tell me about that? Huh? Did you think I wouldn't find out? Do you even know what people are saying about me online? The things they're calling me?! I'm fuckin’ embarrassed, Christy! I can't even go out without people laughing at me!”
Ryan had come around the corner from the living room and now gesticulated wildly in Christy's direction as he spoke. “And then you run off to... Jesus… What the fuck happened to you?! Did someone hit you?! What's in your hair?”
Christy knew this moment was coming, and now that it had arrived, she found herself utterly at ease. The “man” standing before her had been reduced to a petulant child in her eyes. Stamping his feet and shaking his fists like an impotent brat. He was completely dependent on her for everything, from his home to his friends. Christy had been responsible for elevating this sack of shit to the social standing he had. And now she was going to make sure he knew it.
“You're pathetic. You sniveling little maggot. You are so caught up in your own delusional world that you do not notice the shit going on around you. You disgust me, Ryan, truly. What makes you think you have the right to demand anything of me? Because you're my husband? Get real. You're nothing but my b*tch. I own you; I own your life. The roof over your head, the clothes on your back, and the food in your sad, shitty gut are all thanks to me. Every moment that you aren't thanking me for not tossing you back into that backwater town your ****** crawled out of is a moment you lose value to me.”
Ryan's jaw may as well have been plastered to the floor with how heavily it hung in surprise. He began to back into the living room as Christy approached him, a menacing tone in her voice. “I didn't tell you about the picture shit because you're an idiot and would have immediately gossiped to your little faggot friends. You can't be trusted with anything, let alone my secrets. You can't cook, you can't wash clothes, you can't work, and you definitely can't fuck. At this point, the only real value you have for me is as a fucking punching bag. I've given you plenty of leash up until now, but that ends today. I won't have a fucking boat anchor for a husband, and I won't have an idiotic buffoon pretending to be my equal. I'm sick of it.”
The back of Ryan's legs bumped the couch, and he yelled as he fell backwards onto it. The glare of the TV illuminated the various stains and tears in Christy's blouse and slack, and Ryan's eyes wandered over her in shock and horror. “I'm going to give you one chance, Ryan. One single chance to save your place as my husband. If you fail to take it, then I can't guarantee your continued existence in my life. It's a very good life, Ryan, so I want you to use both of your brain cells to think real fucking hard about it, ok?”
Christy unbuckled her slacks and dropped them, revealing her cum-stained disaster of a pussycat. Williams' loads had leaked all over her thighs, and the fresh batch from the homeless man in the parking lot had worked itself into a healthy froth from her walking. All in all, Christy didn't think she'd ever felt so sloppy down there. “Clean it.” Her words were short, clipped, and simple. Ryan's eyes just about bulged out of his head as he took in the sticky, stinking mess between Christy's legs.
“I-is that…?” He whimpered as one hand moved to cover his mouth in disgust.
“Yep, by my count, it's between fifteen and twenty loads of cum, depending on how much has leaked out of me. You're going to lap up every last bit of it right here, right now. Or I'm going to make you a very, very EX-husband. And I'll remind you, Ryan, this is a very good life.” A small glob of cum was working its way down Christy's thigh as she stood before her husband. “Well? Times ticking, babe.”
Ryan swallowed before shaking his head. “I can't! Christy, what the fuck has gotten into you?! Why are you doing this?!”
Christy chuckled. “What's gotten into me? A couple of hung, virile, manly black men That's what. And I'm doing this because I'm sick of putting up with your pathetic bullshit. I'm pretty sure I was clear about that. Either you clean up their superior seed like a good little loser or you lose your precious life.” A thrill of excitement ran up Christy's spine as she issued the threat. Ryan would obviously take it to mean his plush lifestyle, but Christy had actually meant it as his literal life. Openly threatening him like that filled her with so much power and confidence that she became aroused.
“Christy, please, we can still work this out. I'll try harder, and I'll work! I won't go out with the boys as much. I'll,” but Christy cut him off with a slap across the face.
“We're past that point, Ryan. It's this or nothing. I need you to clean this cheating pussy with your fucking tongue, or you're done. Period. Full stop. There is no negotiation; there is no apologizing or forgiving. This is my final warning: if the next thing you do is literally anything other than make out with my pussycat, then you better start packing your bags. I cannot possibly make this any clearer for you. Clean. My. Fucking. Cunt.”
Ryan wilted. His shoulders slumped, and he shut his eyes as he slowly got to his knees in front of the couch. With a moment of hesitation, he shuffled forward and placed both his hands gently on Christy's thighs. “There you go, just a bit further. It'll be over before you know it.” Tentatively, haltingly, and with several dry heaves, Ryan began to lick Christy's pussycat. The feeling was exultant. The sheer, unmitigated power coursing through Christy's veins in that moment was unlike anything she'd felt in her time as a senator.
The control, the raw dominance—it was intoxicating on a level she could barely fathom. Christy grabbed a fistful of Ryan's short, brown hair and began to truly work his face into her crotch. “Get it all; you can't leave anything. Thaaaaats it. Just like that. Mhmmmm” Ryan's tongue worked itself over every square inch of her. The sucking and gasping sounds he made anytime he needed to catch his breath only heightened her sense of control. She wanted to smother him with their cum. Drown her husband in the loads of her lovers. It was euphoric.
And then he was done. His tongue pulled away, and he flopped back against the couch, panting. A thick glob of cum coats the tip of his nose like sunscreen. Christy bent at the waist and used a finger to wipe it off his nose before shoving the finger into his mouth. “Good boy. You pass, barely. Things are going to change in this house; you are no longer the “man” in this relationship. You're my b*tch. As such, there will be certain expectations that need to be met. Failure will be punished harshly. Have I made myself clear?”
Ryan simply nodded as he attempted to dissociate from the events unfolding around him. Christy slapped his face and tried again. “Answer the fucking question, Ryan; have I made myself clear?”
Ryan nodded more enthusiastically, “Y-yes, bab-Christy!”
Christy hated that. Hearing her name from such a pathetic place helped upset her on a visceral level. “Ew, no. From now on, you're going to call me mistress, ma’am, master, or senator. I don't respect you enough to hear my name coming out of your mouth like that anymore.”
Ryan stammered, “But what about the kids?”
Christy shrugged. “Maybe they'll learn to treat me with the respect I deserve if they see you doing it. Lord knows they could stand to show a little more appreciation for the things I do for this ******. Besides, they're your kids. Just because I gave birth to them doesn't mean I need to take responsibility for them.”
Ryan's eyes were the size of saucers, and Christy knew he was hitting the upper limit of his emotional processing. She might have hammered him a little hard, but it was necessary to set things straight. Now she didn't have to tiptoe around her pathetic husband and could actually start enjoying her life for once. “I don't think I need to remind you, but if word of this gets out to anyone, and I mean fucking anyone, I'll have your balls in fucking vice grips faster than you can spurt that shitty little load, got it?”
Ryan nodded slowly and continued to look anywhere other than her face. Christy slapped him again. “I fucking asked you a question, you stupid bitch!”
Ryan wailed and stammered, “Yeah! M-m-mistress!”
Christy sighed. This was too good. “I'm going to take a bath; go back to whatever lame shit you were doing. I want breakfast ready in two hours and the laundry going immediately after. And before you say another fucking word, I'm absolutely positive you know how fucking Google works. Get it done, cuck.”
Ryan offered a weak "yes, ma’am” without moving from his spot on the floor. Climbing the stairs to the second floor, Christy felt like she could jump them all in a single leap; the adrenaline rush was overwhelming. Had she seriously just done that?! It had been so... easy? She hadn't even really needed to think about it. The words came so effortlessly; the malice and resentment had been on the tip of her tongue immediately, and watching Ryan shrink back from her in fear and surprise was as close as she had come to feeling like a goddess.
William was responsible for this. He'd shown her what a real man was. Incredibly strong, confident, capable, charismatic, charming, intelligent, cunning, and above all else, dominant. In Williams' arms, Christy felt like all things were possible, and in channeling that feeling, she had been able to put Ryan on his knees, where he belonged. A truth dawned on Christy as she entered the washroom. It had been William who had elevated her, not the other way around.
It was such a simple thought, but it shook Christy to her core. For so long, she'd seen people of color as nothing but primitives. Immigrants from backwater, third-world countries who brought nothing but crime and discord with them. And yet, in such a short time, William had turned that preconception on its head. He had been everything she had ever desired in a partner, and so, of course, it was only natural that she submit herself to him.
Sure, he was blackmailing her, but Christy knew that wasn't why she had humiliated Ryan. In all honesty, the blackmail barely registered as a threat to her now. The original picture was already out on the internet, and if the concierge at the hotel had been any indication, Christy apparently had the support of some large, unknown faction. Maybe she would be better off just owning up to the stupid thing and letting the chips fall as they may.
She already had the confidence of her followers; if she came out as having taken a black lover, she would undoubtedly earn the support of the left. Then she could begin towing the anti-racist line while simultaneously picking up the atheist crowd. Actually, if Christy admitted to the picture being real, she could stand to gain from the situation. That couldn't be right, could it?!
She turned the tap on the tub and ran the numbers again in her head. She'd lose a significant portion of her right-wing supporters, but the potential gains were heavily in her favor. Not to mention she'd be able to publicly associate with William. There was virtually no downside to claiming the picture was real. She could begin passing laws supporting William and his kind with impunity. She could reject bills aimed at supporting people like her piece of sh*t husband. She could openly carry and give birth to black children.
Christy came without even touching herself. Just the thought alone of publicly carrying and birthing William's baby while married to Ryan was enough to push her over. She had no choice. She absolutely had to admit the picture was real. That was the path that led to her true happiness. In a state of bliss, she took out a cigarette and lit it, texting Ryan to bring her a beer. She felt like celebrating her little victory.
But what was she going to do about her kids? Bella was too young to really understand what was happening, so she would have a decent chance to grow up learning the new standards Christy would be enforcing. Her son, though, Christy had had Cater from the moment she turned 18, so he understood, albeit loosely, what relationships should look like. Treating Carter's father like a prissy bitch would confuse the boy. Christy gnawed on her lip; her son's reeducation would need to be handled by someone outside of their ******.
She doubted William would be willing to take the time to coach her son into accepting the new dynamic. And even if he were, she knew deep down that the odds of William simply burying the boy at some point were high, seeing as he'd already threatened her with just such an inevitability. Thinking about the problem was beginning to annoy Christy; could she simply ship the boy off? Send him overseas to a boarding school? Probably… but then the chance of him being indoctrinated against her would rise, and she couldn't allow something like that to come back to bite her.
She puffed angrily on her cigarette as the problem persisted. “Miserable fucking mistake... I should have just aborted him when I had the chance. I knew it was too early for a fucking kid, but that faggot husband of mine just had to whine to my parents. Ugh.” Even in the depths of Christy's devotion to the Lord God, she had been hesitant to have Carter. Her parents and Ryan had fought tooth and nail to ensure she kept him, however, and now she was kicking herself for being so weak.
“If only William had been there, he would have stood by me.” She smiled wistfully at the thought of a happier youth. No, the boy had to go. There simply weren't any decent, or legal, ways of dealing with the child in a way that would allow her to live the life she wanted and maintain control of the ******. “I'll have my assistant start looking into cheap transfer schools and ship him off to the first one she comes up with. Then he'll be out of my hair.”
Christy eased her aching body into the bath and allowed the warm water to start soaking her tired muscles. William had not gone easy on her after she'd agreed to submit to him. She closed her eyes and found herself back in the hotel room. William was standing at the window overlooking the city, naked as the day he was born. She remembered how the light reflected off his ebony skin, a thin sheen of sweat coating his chiseled muscles.
“You're an evil man, you know that? There's a reason parents warn their children about people like you!” Christy sat on the edge of the bed, holding a damp cloth to her abused pussycat. The cold water helped with the soreness.
William turned to regard her with an amused grin on his face. “And yet, here you are. If the warnings worked, then I'm sure you'd be in your office like a good little god-fearing Christian, no? I think, perhaps, those parents may have warned you not of the dangers but of the temptations.”
Christy didn't know how to respond to that; regardless of the warning, it was true that she had ultimately ended up in bed with him. “You keep glaring at me like that, and I'll make sure your asshole ends up twice the size it was coming in here.” He folded his powerful arms across his broad chest and arched an eyebrow as though imploring her to continue.
Christy scoffed sarcastically at the threat: “Of course, that's all you know how to do, you beast. Threaten people, and fuck! What, you think that fat cock of yours can turn me into some kind of love-sick puppy? You think you're going to “conquer” me by making me cum? Don't make me laugh; this isn't some cheap porno.” She lifted the cloth away from her cunt and gingerly rubbed at it. “At this rate, you're just going to break my pussycat and make me hate you even more than I already do.”
Christy pulled a cigarette from the pack on the nightstand and lit it. William chuckled and shook his head. “If fucking you could make you love me, then I wouldn't have had to beat you, too. Or threaten your ****** or blackmail you. No, love is not something you can develop with just kindness. That sort of weakness is for Whitebois, and look at where you happen to be instead of with him. Love is something that grows through disparity. Love comes from recognizing someone has what you don't.”
It was Christy's turn to laugh. “Bullshit! If you think for a second that you have something I don't, then you are sorely mistaken. My life is wonderful. Though I will admit you have a fantastic cock, What do you think? Should I fall in love with just your cock? They make some pretty impressive dildos these days; maybe I'll fall in love with a horse.” She took a drag of her smoke and watched his advance from the corner of her eye.
“I know I have something you don't, Christy. It's the reason you're here spraying your fuckin’ piss all over this cheap carpet. It's the reason you've got four of my loads cloggin’ up your throat. I have a purpose. But you see, all you've got is power. And power without purpose is just cruelty. Why's it so hard for you to see that I'm trying to make you a better person? Let me give purpose to your power.”
That comment struck Christy, and she fell silent as she contemplated his words. Ultimately, she fell back on her stubborn ways and replied with vitriol, “No, I'm here because you're a dirty fuckin’ gorilla who threatened to kill my son. I'm here because I have no fucking choice. I'm here because you God damn apes refuse to fucking evolve.” Then William was on top of her. She knew it was coming and didn't fight it. She'd learned what got her beat and what didn't, but she just couldn't help but bite back with her words.
She screamed as his fist crashed into her ribs, her hands instinctively moving to protect her vital organs as another blow caught her in the kidney. Then he had his hand in her hair, shoving her face deep into the pillows of the bed. She could feel his large fingers work themselves into her asshole. “I warned you, Christy. Call me an ape one more time, and you'll be getting free dental work.”
Christy coughed as she felt his weight settle on her back. The cool sensation of lube traced its way down the small of her back and then between her ass cheeks, and she knew he was about to ruin her asshole. “oof! Heh! Ahhh, what rhymes with ****!? Eeeeek heh!” Her breaths were short, and she labored with his weight on her back.
“Don't do this, Christy; you're better than this.” Will's voice was full of resignation and disappointment. Somehow, that hurt Christy more than the punches had. But she was too far into her spite and rebellion to stop.
“Yeah! Heeeehhh, it's an aaaappeeee you dumb nig-oof! Unnnggghghh” Williams' forearm came to rest on the back of her neck as he forced himself into her ass. It didn't hurt nearly as much as it had the first time William had chosen to use that hole, but it still knocked what little wind Christy had out of her. She tried to moan, but it came out as a reedy whistle instead. Sparks began to flicker across her vision, and Christy knew she was about to be fucked unconscious again.
Then she was back in her warm tub, a soft knock at the door. “What?!” She called out, annoyed that someone was interrupting her recollection.
“I brought your beer, mistress." Ryan's pitiful voice floated into the steam-laden room. Christy had forgotten about him completely.
“Well? Bring it in, dumbass.” The door clicked, and Ryan hesitantly stepped in. Christy wasn't surprised by how rapidly he was adjusting to the new dynamic. She'd had him pegged as a spineless coward when they first met, and he was certainly living up to it now. “Don't just stand there; gimme the beer! Fuck sakes. And for the record, if you look at me like that again, I'm calling the cops and telling them you did this to me. Now fuck off.”
He'd been ogling her naked body from the moment he came through the door, and it made her skin crawl. The door clicked shut behind him, but he spoke from the other side of it, as though that made having to listen to him easier. “I love you… I'm sorry, mistress.”
Christy rolled her eyes and took a swig from the beer. “Whatever, eat shit and choke on it.” Tomorrow was going to be a chaotic day, and Christy couldn't wait for it to be over. The sooner she got through the press conference, the sooner she could mount herself on Williams' massive fuck-stick again. She rubbed absently at her stomach as she thought about him.
There was no doubt that she was pregnant. While she hadn't tested, William had exclusively fucked her bareback and had exclusively pumped every last drop of his cum into her pussycat. With seed as virile as his, it was all but guaranteed she'd be having his child in nine months. At least now she'd have a decent caretaker for it; if Ryan knew what was good for him, he'd treat her child like royalty.
“I'll have to see if there are any decent chastity belts for him; I can't have him getting distracted while on duty, or off duty, for that matter. Actually, I should probably just have him castrated; it's not like he's going to need it for anything. I'll have my assistant book him an appointment.” As Christy mused, she got a text.
Opening the message revealed it was from William: "I dropped off a gift for you; bitch-ass Whiteboi tried steppin’ up, so I put him in his place; wear it tomorrow for the conference.” Ugh, he literally couldn't get any fucking hotter, could he?!
A knock sounded at the door, and Christy chuckled. “Bring it in.” Ryan stepped through the door with a bloodied nose. His eyes had taken on a distant kind of stare that often resulted from incredibly traumatic events. Christy was sure he'd get over it.
“Well? Hand it over!” Christy held out a hand, and Ryan placed a small jewelry box into it. She cracked it open to discover a small spade pendant attached to a long silver choke chain. She immediately put it on and sent a selfie of her wearing it to William. “I won't thank you, but you probably don't need my thanks anyway.”
Setting the phone down, she noticed Ryan lingering in the room. “Are you still fucking here? What do you want?” Ryan broke down into tears and then started pleading with her. He didn't understand what was happening, why she was doing this to him, or what he had done to deserve the abuse. Christy silently listened and drank her beer before his annoying rambling finally came to an end.
“Are you done?” Christy looked him over empirically; he was holding a handcloth to his face and shaking slightly. It was hard for her to picture why she'd ever considered him a man. His soft, pudgy body had refused to develop even after she'd hired a personal trainer for him. She remembered his constant bitching about the effort and time it had taken away from his game nights with “the bros." Pathetic. That was the only thought that came to her mind when she looked at him now. A sad, pathetic little man-child.
“I've already explained myself. Your place in my life as anything other than an object to vent my frustrations about has ended. You clearly never understood where I stood in the social hierarchy, nor did you ever truly understand what I wanted from you. I blame myself for not seeing it sooner, and I'm grateful to finally have the chance to live my life the way I ought to have lived it from the start. Trust me when I say I can make this so much worse for you. It may be painful now, but you'll come to understand just how generous I'm being by allowing you to remain my husband. Now get out, and if we need to have this talk again, there will be horrendous consequences.”
Ryan finally looked up at her with pained eyes. He looked as though there was more he wanted to say, but on a second thought, he simply nodded and gave her a small, fragile “yes, ma’am” before leaving. Christy toyed with the small pendant around her neck. Tomorrow would bring about ruinous change in the world, for better or worse. The results of her disclosure during the press conference were unknown to her, but she knew in her heart that it was the path she needed to take.
She'd spent so long utterly blinded by her faith in the white race and by religion that she'd failed to clearly see all of the injustice taking place beyond her insulated bubble. But now that her eyes had been opened, she couldn't look away from it. She had the privilege to do something to correct the system from her position and had, instead, used that privilege to perpetuate the hate and pain. And for what? For her comfortable, Idyllic life? To “protect” her ******? Christy shook her head with shame. There was nothing there worth protecting. A pathetic, entitled baby-of-a-man and two spoiled, snotty beats. But that would be fixed. They could be guided into a better future with her intervention.
Citizens across the country could be led into a better world with Williams' influence. Together, they could forge a new, glorious, and righteous path. This was about to stretch far beyond herself, and she couldn't possibly have been more excited for it. Christy clasped the pendant in her hands and offered a final prayer to her cruel and unloving God; it would be her last words to the failure of a deity. “Dear Lord, from the bottom of my heart and with all the strength in my soul, go. Fuck. Your. Self. Amen.”
She looked like a prostitute. Her hair was mussed and clumped where globs of cum had hardened, her makeup was streaked and smeared across her cheeks, and dried cum-crust caked her chin and neck. Bite marks and hickeys dotted her collarbone and throat, along with several yellowing patches of skin where she'd been struck repeatedly. She was not just a prostitute; she looked like an extremely cheap prostitute who had just been thoroughly beaten by her pimp. “Not fucking far from the truth...” Christy mused to herself.
William had spent the past day using her like a disposable sex toy, abusing her holes and body however he desired. He hadn't stopped when she passed out, began to cry, or told him she would have him deported. Eventually, Christy had simply given up on resisting his abuse, seeing no point in struggling against something that was going to happen regardless. It was the wild fluctuations between tender care and affection and unmitigated violence that left her the most confused. Did he love her, or did he hate her? Both emotions seemed to be present in equal measure.
Christy had reasoned that the violence was simply part of William's nature as a black man. There was nothing he could do to quell that part of his soul, and that was part of the reason why God's grace would never favor him as it had her. But after having spent a dozen hours being subjected to the man's whims, Christy had begun to wonder if that violence wasn't justified in some way. After all, his kind had spent the better part of 400 years being abused in a similar fashion. Wasn't it only fair for him to exact his revenge on her for those racial slights?
She gingerly pressed at one of the splits on her lip and hissed. “He could have at least kissed me goodbye... ungrateful ape…”. With that, the doors of the elevator opened to the lobby, and Christy stepped out, tucking her mirror back into her bag. The concierge that she'd spoken to when checking in was at the desk, seemingly just starting her shift. She immediately spotted Christy, and the biggest shit-eating grin snaked across her face as she studied the condition Christy was in.
Christy glanced over to the sliding doors of the entrance; the dark morning tempted her to flee instead of facing the scrutiny of the small woman now clearly beckoning her over. Gritting her teeth, Christy curved her path to stand in front of the counter for checkout. “God, it must have been fucking amazing.” The petite woman made a show of looking Christy over as she spoke. A small grin crept onto Christy's face, causing the splits to tingle as her lips stretched.
“Yes, well, willi—I mean, my husband can be.” Christy started to offer some excuse or reason for her condition, but the small woman shook her head and cut her off.
“Don't worry, senator. I know what's up. “Snowbunnies of a feather," right? Your secret is safe with me, and I want you to know our community stands behind you ten thousand percent. What you're doing is fucking glorious!” She reached out and placed a reassuring hand over Christy's.
“The movement is ready and waiting for you to pull the trigger. We've been waiting for this for years, and it's finally happening. I can't wait to see the look on my boyfriend's face when the tides shift. He's going to shit himself, haha!”
Christy gaped at the woman, not comprehending what she was saying. What movement? Pull the trigger on... what, exactly? A creeping dread settled neatly into Christy's gut as it dawned on her that she'd somehow found herself embroiled in machinations beyond her grasp. How much about her affair did this woman truly know? What the hell was a snowbunny? “I'm… I don't know what you're talking about. I'm not a senator!”
The small woman behind the counter simply winked, “Of course, Mrs. Temrin! My mistake. I've checked you out; please forget what I've said and have an amazing day.” Christy lingered a moment, contemplating whether or not to grill the young woman, but ultimately her sore ribs won out, and she turned for the door. “Stay strong, sister! Black lives matter!”.
The small clerk called after Christy, and she swung her head to reply as she'd been taught by William, “White lives don't!”. It came automatically, casually, like answering some banal greeting from a stranger on the street. There wasn't even a second thought in her head before she spoke the words, and immediately Christy was flushed with supreme embarrassment and confusion. What was she saying?! To a stranger, no less! In public, no less. This wasn't right; God damnit all, this wasn't who she was!
Christy was unreasonably proud of her white skin; she had been since she was a child. Growing up, she'd watched on as opportunity after opportunity was granted to her over her dark-skinned counterparts. Grades in school, boyfriends, job offers, pay, and benefits. There wasn't a single thing that she hadn't been prioritized for. She was aware of the gentrified nobility of her ******, aware that they'd been well-to-do, and had just automatically attributed their success to the color of their skin. Whites won, blacks lost. That was the way of the world for Christy.
Her parents had fought viciously to reinforce that point throughout her life by condemning those of other races. Warning Christy that they were all degenerates, criminals, and pure evil in both the eyes of the law and the Lord. After enough encouragement, Christy had no problem relating her own white skin to innocence and the dark browns and blacks to vile guilt and evil. So why was it, then, that William filled her with so much desire? So much lust, passion, and thrill?
She nearly sprinted out the sliding doors of the hotel in an effort to escape the shame and guilt of having so blatantly betrayed her race. She'd never felt so utterly conflicted in her life, so lost and confused by the emotions she was feeling. She needed to get home. She had to get home and into the shower so that she could sort out her mind. Ryan would be there, and likely her children, too. The thought disgusted her.
No, that wasn't right! Christy shook her head as her heels clacked across the asphalt. Where did that thought come from? She loved her ******, loved Ryan, and loved her kids, so why did the thought of seeing them make her feel like crying? She bumped into her Escalade and began to rummage through her bag for her keys. This was Williams' fault. He'd done something to her; he drugged her somehow. He'd poisoned her mind so that the thought of her white ****** brought her discomfort.
"Shiiiiiit's a nice whip you got, bitch!” Christy froze at the words, her hand clenching around her keys as she slammed her eyes shut. “The fuck you doin’ drivin’ sum like dat?”. It was a deep, harsh voice. It cracked and rolled with a tense threat of violence that Christy was all too familiar with, having met William. “Ay, I'm speakin’ atchu woman!” A massive hand clamped around Christy's shoulder and forcibly spun her to face whoever it was that had approached her.
Her eyes fluttered open, and she scanned the parking lot around her; it was utterly void of life, save for the man and herself. Just her luck. “Get your hand off me, you filthy nigger! I've got a taser!” Christy jostled her bag in an attempt to bluff her way out of the situation, but the black man simply looked both ways before driving a closed fist into Christy's already-sore stomach. The wind rushed from her lungs, and she doubled over the man's arm.
“Nah, see, I know you're Williams Hoe. Nigga said you'd be steppin’ out ‘round now. I ain't playin’; open up this ride or you end up on the Daily's.” Christy wheezed as the man shoved her back up against the door of her SUV. “That's it, nice and’ easy.” Christy produced the fob for her vehicle and hit the unlock button. With a chirp, the locks disengaged, and the man opened the back door before shoving Christy through it.
For a moment, Christy thought she was being kidnapped, but once the man stopped shoving her onto the seat, she felt the buckle to her slacks loosen and then her pants slide down around her ass. “Seriously?! You're ****** me?! In the middle of a fucking parking lot?! Are you insane?!” The man chuckled and ran his palm over her dripping pussy before stroking himself with it. Christy had a hard time tracking his movements, bent over as she was.
“William said you was available all hours. The fuck do you think I'ma do? Book you a room? Hell Naw, tricks like you milk loads in parking lots, s’how it is.” Christy grunted as the man mounted her; she could smell the weed and booze on him like a miasma. Fucking William, what had he done? “Ahhhhhh shit, tighten up ya cunt, I can't feel shit!” The man slapped Christy's ass, and she yipped, squeezing her muscles as best she could. “Fuuuuck das mo’ like it, slut! Getchu sum dat!” The man began to thrust in earnest, and Christy moaned.
She was incredibly horny. Despite herself, she was absolutely drenched. She'd felt it the moment the man called out to her; a small throb of excitement was sent coursing up her spine as his words beat against her eardrums. The ache in her crotch overwhelmed the pain from the numerous parts of her body that had been worked over by William. She hated it. She seethed at how easily her body had yeilded to the man, and to William, for that matter. She hated the fact that she was loving every single second of being used by this stinking, homeless filth.
But his cock wasn't quite as... burly as Williams, and his thrusts were more erratic and lethargic. It still felt amazing—better than literally anything her husband had done to her over the course of her marriage—in fact. But she wanted him deeper; she needed to feel his hips destroying her pure-white ass cheeks as he ravaged her tight, wet pussy. And then she had an idea. “Is your cock even in? I thought you coons all had fat cocks. You lost yours in a turf war?”
Her taunts had the desired effect, and the man snagged a fistfull of her hair as he began to beat her guts with his dick. Christy laughed and moaned as the man rode her from behind. “C’mon, nigger, fuck that tight, wet little pussy! It's yours, right?! Fuck it!” Christy heard the man grunt, and the pace picked up yet again. Now he was fucking her how she wanted: hard, and like she owed him money. He slapped a hand across her ass, and she gasped out another moan as an orgasm rolled through her body.
“Yee! Yee, you like that dick, don't you, bitch?! Get it! Get it! I'ma nut all up in it!” Again, his hand clapped across Christy's ass, and she wailed with delight. She had started thrusting her hips back into him, meeting his hips part way in order to coax out every bit of pleasure she could. The man was breathing hard and grunting, very clearly about to drop his load inside her.
“Yes! Yes! Oh God, deep inside me! Fuckin’ fill it! Give it to me!” Christy cried out as she felt the man begin to lose his rhythm. A moment later, he ground his hips into her, wrenching back on her head and waist in order to plant his seed as deep inside her as he could. Christy clenched her teeth through a bone-creaking climax, her muscles locking up and forcing her to howl into the seat of the car as she squirted all over the asphalt.
The man's warm seed pulsed into her—something she'd grown familiar with since William came into her life. It seemed to bleed its warmth into her stomach and thighs, the hot, potent cum spreading out in search of her vulnerable white eggs. “Unnnggghh fuuuuuck! Get your… ugh… get your filthy fuckin’ prick out of me!” Christy wiggled her hips, and the man's rapidly softening cock slid out of her with a wet pop. “oof! Ahhh, fuck, satisfied now? Touch me again, and I'm having you executed.”
The man retracted the hand that was reaching for her open blouse. “The fuck you will! Will said you belong to the streets; you ain't doin’ shit to a nigga like me!” Christy winced as the man called her bluff, but he didn't resume his attempt to grope her. She used the brief moment of respite to turn over and pull her slacks back up; there was no saving them, as the crotch had already soaked through with Williams' previous loads.
“So, what the fuck do you want? You're still here, and you just fucked a load into me, so what do you want?” She tugged on what was left of her blouse, trying to cover her bare chest as much as the garment would allow. “I've got places to be, so spill it.” Christy tried her best to sound aggrieved, but she knew the pleasure and attraction in her voice were undermining her attempt to seem frustrated.
“Gimme yo' wallet.” The man said it dumbly, as though he wasn't actually expecting her to do it. It was clear he hadn't had much of a plan other than to use her pussy, and once he'd done that, he had run out of ideas. Christy stared blankly into his big brown eyes for a moment before rolling her own.
“Ugh, I don't know what I was expecting from one of your kind.” She reached into her bag and pulled out her wallet, which surprised the man.
“Ayo, seriously?” He started to reach out for it, and Christy snapped back.
“Of course not! You fucking idiot. You think I'd just hand it over with all my shit in it?! I'm giving you the cash since that's all you fucking care about anyway. Jesus, you people need help. I've got two hundred on me, which I'm sure is more than you've seen in months. At least use some of it in a fucking shower.” Christy aggressively yanked the bills out of her cash fold and slapped them into the man's waiting hand.
"Haha, you aw’ight fo’ a cunt, I'ma tell Will you did right by me! Aye, but dat kid ain't mine if yo’ ass gets prego. You on ya own fo’ dat.” He turned and started to count the bills as he walked off into the dark morning.
Christy leaned back against the seat of her Escalade and sighed. “Of course I am. Figures.” Blowing a loose strand of hair from her face, she shut the rear door and climbed up into the driver's seat. The cum stains in the crotch of her slacks were cold against her skin as she settled into the seat and turned her phone back on. As it powered on, she pulled her cigarette case out of her bag and quickly lit one. The harsh smoke burned on its way to her lungs, and she savored the sensation. Smoking after sex gave her such a uniquely satisfying feeling that she wondered why she had ever hated it so much.
She'd specifically turned down several donations from tobacco lobbyists on principle. She shook her head, feeling foolish for not accepting the ludicrous amount of money they'd offered. Being in the position she was in now had afforded her a new perspective on the sins she had so cautiously avoided. “In for a penny...” her phone dinged, and she scooped it up to see several missed calls from her husband. Christy groaned as she opened her texts.
"Babe, what the fuck? Where are you? The guy at your office said you hadn't been there. Bella missed her thing because you weren't here! Also, I don't know how to work the stupid laundry machine, so the kids don't have clean clothes today! "You made me look stupid in front of the kids!” Smoke trailed out of Christy's nostrils as though she were about to breathe fire. She would kill Ryan. That was the only possible recourse. She would murder him and then get William to make it look like a robbery gone wrong. The tabloids would have a field day covering his untimely end.
The thought pleased Christy. And as she continued to imagine the various ways she would terminate her useless, limp-dick loser of a husband, her hand made its way to her crotch. She could still get out of her SUV and go back up to Williams' hotel room. She could walk back through that lobby, ride the elevator up, and plant herself firmly on Williams' massive black cock instead of going home to deal with her piece of fucking shit husband. but she wouldn't.
Traffic was beginning to pick up in the parking lot for morning check-in, and she had business that needed to be attended to. Her press conference to address the infamous picture was the next day, and she needed to rehearse her speech and go over possible questions. There was too much to get done for her to run back up into Williams' incredibly well-muscled arms. Christy sighed and withdrew her hand from her crotch before starting the Escalade. If Ryan was awake when she got home, she would have a hard time explaining her state to him.
Did she even need an excuse? Should she even try to lie at this point? What the fuck would he do? Leave her? Christy fucking hated him, so a divorce wouldn't even be the worst outcome. Maybe then William could come to her house. The thought excited her. Maybe she would just tell him that she'd been out all night, fucking a hung nigger! Christy grinned as she pulled out of her stall. Ryan would shit his heart out if he learned his up-tight, right-wing power wife was letting some immigrant turn her cunt inside out unprotected.
----------
Christy's house wasn't palatial, but it wasn't quaint either. The three-story mansion sat in a gated community and, at the time she'd bought it, had been worth 1.2 million dollars. It had since tripled in value as the housing market continued to swell. The gate guard tipped his hat as Christy rolled up to the checkpoint. "Mornin', Mrs. Mezlené! Out burnin’ that midnight... oil?... Sweet baby Jesus, Christy, are you alright?”
The guard picked up on her condition immediately, and Christy simply smiled back. “Coal, actually, John! I was burning coal all night long. I'm tired, I'm sore, and I need a shower. My office has a long flight of stairs, and I'm pretty sure I hit every single one on the way down.” John laughed nervously as he attempted to go along with Christy's nonchalance, but the concern never left his eyes.
“You guys ever find out who jumped your boy? Hear, he should be out of the hospital soon! I had my office send a bouquet to his room; did you get it?” Christy gave John a lifeline by diverting the conversation, and he latched onto it like a drowning man.
“No, ma’am! You know how it is—all those dark skins all look the same. The police even brought mugshots for Tom to go over, but he couldn't pick anyone out of the bunch. We got those flowers! It was really nice of you to do that for our boy. If you ever need anything, all you have to do is hollar at us, and’ we'll be there for ou!" Christy nodded to the man and bid her farewell before the gate began to retract.
Naturally, Christy knew exactly who'd jumped Tom. William had gone on in detail about how he'd sent one of his thugs after the boy as a “warning shot." Christy didn't particularly appreciate that he'd relayed his threat while pummeling her cervix, but she had to admit that it certainly made for an intense orgasm. Hearing John talk about the situation had caused Christy to get wet all over again, and she smiled to herself as she drove up her driveway. Reveling in these small sins made her feel incredible.
The front lights were on, and she could see the definite flashing of a TV screen in the main living room window. Ryan was awake and, very likely, waiting for her to come home so he could bitch at her like a scorned housewife. But Christy wasn't in the mood for it, not this morning, not after being with a real man like William. She wasn't about to let some little bitch-ass punk walk all over her.
She stepped out of the SUV and did a final check on her clothes before stepping up to the door and entering her house. Christy tossed her keys into the bowl on the stand next to the door and kicked off her heels. It felt good to be out of them. William had made her wear them for the majority of their time together because he liked how they looked on her feet. There was a grunt from the living room around the corner, and Christy braced herself.
“Babe…? Is that you?” Ryan called out as she made her way to the end of the foyer.
"Yep, I just got back. I'm going to take a shower and have a nap.” There was no response to that, and Christy wondered if he was in the middle of gaming with his "boys." If he was, she likely wouldn't have to deal with him for at least a few hours, depending on how pissed he thought he was.
“Babe, we gotta talk! Can you come here?” The false authority in Ryan's voice made Christy's skin crawl. It was a pale and pathetic mockery of the true authority that men like William could wield. Christy's eyes rolled so hard she thought she could see the underside of her brain.
“Seriously? Right now? I need to fucking shower, Ryan! I'm tired and not in the mood for your little bitch-fit. Go back to gaming with your boyfriend's, and we'll talk after I've rested, ok?” Christy started making her way to the stairs leading to the main washroom on the second floor when a bang and shuffling originated from the living room. God, he was so annoying.
“No! I want to talk now. You were out all fucking evening and then over night! I had to cancel my plans with the boys because our sitter couldn't cover last-minute, so thanks for ruining my night! And what's this shit about a picture?! When were you going to tell me about that? Huh? Did you think I wouldn't find out? Do you even know what people are saying about me online? The things they're calling me?! I'm fuckin’ embarrassed, Christy! I can't even go out without people laughing at me!”
Ryan had come around the corner from the living room and now gesticulated wildly in Christy's direction as he spoke. “And then you run off to... Jesus… What the fuck happened to you?! Did someone hit you?! What's in your hair?”
Christy knew this moment was coming, and now that it had arrived, she found herself utterly at ease. The “man” standing before her had been reduced to a petulant child in her eyes. Stamping his feet and shaking his fists like an impotent brat. He was completely dependent on her for everything, from his home to his friends. Christy had been responsible for elevating this sack of shit to the social standing he had. And now she was going to make sure he knew it.
“You're pathetic. You sniveling little maggot. You are so caught up in your own delusional world that you do not notice the shit going on around you. You disgust me, Ryan, truly. What makes you think you have the right to demand anything of me? Because you're my husband? Get real. You're nothing but my b*tch. I own you; I own your life. The roof over your head, the clothes on your back, and the food in your sad, shitty gut are all thanks to me. Every moment that you aren't thanking me for not tossing you back into that backwater town your ****** crawled out of is a moment you lose value to me.”
Ryan's jaw may as well have been plastered to the floor with how heavily it hung in surprise. He began to back into the living room as Christy approached him, a menacing tone in her voice. “I didn't tell you about the picture shit because you're an idiot and would have immediately gossiped to your little faggot friends. You can't be trusted with anything, let alone my secrets. You can't cook, you can't wash clothes, you can't work, and you definitely can't fuck. At this point, the only real value you have for me is as a fucking punching bag. I've given you plenty of leash up until now, but that ends today. I won't have a fucking boat anchor for a husband, and I won't have an idiotic buffoon pretending to be my equal. I'm sick of it.”
The back of Ryan's legs bumped the couch, and he yelled as he fell backwards onto it. The glare of the TV illuminated the various stains and tears in Christy's blouse and slack, and Ryan's eyes wandered over her in shock and horror. “I'm going to give you one chance, Ryan. One single chance to save your place as my husband. If you fail to take it, then I can't guarantee your continued existence in my life. It's a very good life, Ryan, so I want you to use both of your brain cells to think real fucking hard about it, ok?”
Christy unbuckled her slacks and dropped them, revealing her cum-stained disaster of a pussycat. Williams' loads had leaked all over her thighs, and the fresh batch from the homeless man in the parking lot had worked itself into a healthy froth from her walking. All in all, Christy didn't think she'd ever felt so sloppy down there. “Clean it.” Her words were short, clipped, and simple. Ryan's eyes just about bulged out of his head as he took in the sticky, stinking mess between Christy's legs.
“I-is that…?” He whimpered as one hand moved to cover his mouth in disgust.
“Yep, by my count, it's between fifteen and twenty loads of cum, depending on how much has leaked out of me. You're going to lap up every last bit of it right here, right now. Or I'm going to make you a very, very EX-husband. And I'll remind you, Ryan, this is a very good life.” A small glob of cum was working its way down Christy's thigh as she stood before her husband. “Well? Times ticking, babe.”
Ryan swallowed before shaking his head. “I can't! Christy, what the fuck has gotten into you?! Why are you doing this?!”
Christy chuckled. “What's gotten into me? A couple of hung, virile, manly black men That's what. And I'm doing this because I'm sick of putting up with your pathetic bullshit. I'm pretty sure I was clear about that. Either you clean up their superior seed like a good little loser or you lose your precious life.” A thrill of excitement ran up Christy's spine as she issued the threat. Ryan would obviously take it to mean his plush lifestyle, but Christy had actually meant it as his literal life. Openly threatening him like that filled her with so much power and confidence that she became aroused.
“Christy, please, we can still work this out. I'll try harder, and I'll work! I won't go out with the boys as much. I'll,” but Christy cut him off with a slap across the face.
“We're past that point, Ryan. It's this or nothing. I need you to clean this cheating pussy with your fucking tongue, or you're done. Period. Full stop. There is no negotiation; there is no apologizing or forgiving. This is my final warning: if the next thing you do is literally anything other than make out with my pussycat, then you better start packing your bags. I cannot possibly make this any clearer for you. Clean. My. Fucking. Cunt.”
Ryan wilted. His shoulders slumped, and he shut his eyes as he slowly got to his knees in front of the couch. With a moment of hesitation, he shuffled forward and placed both his hands gently on Christy's thighs. “There you go, just a bit further. It'll be over before you know it.” Tentatively, haltingly, and with several dry heaves, Ryan began to lick Christy's pussycat. The feeling was exultant. The sheer, unmitigated power coursing through Christy's veins in that moment was unlike anything she'd felt in her time as a senator.
The control, the raw dominance—it was intoxicating on a level she could barely fathom. Christy grabbed a fistful of Ryan's short, brown hair and began to truly work his face into her crotch. “Get it all; you can't leave anything. Thaaaaats it. Just like that. Mhmmmm” Ryan's tongue worked itself over every square inch of her. The sucking and gasping sounds he made anytime he needed to catch his breath only heightened her sense of control. She wanted to smother him with their cum. Drown her husband in the loads of her lovers. It was euphoric.
And then he was done. His tongue pulled away, and he flopped back against the couch, panting. A thick glob of cum coats the tip of his nose like sunscreen. Christy bent at the waist and used a finger to wipe it off his nose before shoving the finger into his mouth. “Good boy. You pass, barely. Things are going to change in this house; you are no longer the “man” in this relationship. You're my b*tch. As such, there will be certain expectations that need to be met. Failure will be punished harshly. Have I made myself clear?”
Ryan simply nodded as he attempted to dissociate from the events unfolding around him. Christy slapped his face and tried again. “Answer the fucking question, Ryan; have I made myself clear?”
Ryan nodded more enthusiastically, “Y-yes, bab-Christy!”
Christy hated that. Hearing her name from such a pathetic place helped upset her on a visceral level. “Ew, no. From now on, you're going to call me mistress, ma’am, master, or senator. I don't respect you enough to hear my name coming out of your mouth like that anymore.”
Ryan stammered, “But what about the kids?”
Christy shrugged. “Maybe they'll learn to treat me with the respect I deserve if they see you doing it. Lord knows they could stand to show a little more appreciation for the things I do for this ******. Besides, they're your kids. Just because I gave birth to them doesn't mean I need to take responsibility for them.”
Ryan's eyes were the size of saucers, and Christy knew he was hitting the upper limit of his emotional processing. She might have hammered him a little hard, but it was necessary to set things straight. Now she didn't have to tiptoe around her pathetic husband and could actually start enjoying her life for once. “I don't think I need to remind you, but if word of this gets out to anyone, and I mean fucking anyone, I'll have your balls in fucking vice grips faster than you can spurt that shitty little load, got it?”
Ryan nodded slowly and continued to look anywhere other than her face. Christy slapped him again. “I fucking asked you a question, you stupid bitch!”
Ryan wailed and stammered, “Yeah! M-m-mistress!”
Christy sighed. This was too good. “I'm going to take a bath; go back to whatever lame shit you were doing. I want breakfast ready in two hours and the laundry going immediately after. And before you say another fucking word, I'm absolutely positive you know how fucking Google works. Get it done, cuck.”
Ryan offered a weak "yes, ma’am” without moving from his spot on the floor. Climbing the stairs to the second floor, Christy felt like she could jump them all in a single leap; the adrenaline rush was overwhelming. Had she seriously just done that?! It had been so... easy? She hadn't even really needed to think about it. The words came so effortlessly; the malice and resentment had been on the tip of her tongue immediately, and watching Ryan shrink back from her in fear and surprise was as close as she had come to feeling like a goddess.
William was responsible for this. He'd shown her what a real man was. Incredibly strong, confident, capable, charismatic, charming, intelligent, cunning, and above all else, dominant. In Williams' arms, Christy felt like all things were possible, and in channeling that feeling, she had been able to put Ryan on his knees, where he belonged. A truth dawned on Christy as she entered the washroom. It had been William who had elevated her, not the other way around.
It was such a simple thought, but it shook Christy to her core. For so long, she'd seen people of color as nothing but primitives. Immigrants from backwater, third-world countries who brought nothing but crime and discord with them. And yet, in such a short time, William had turned that preconception on its head. He had been everything she had ever desired in a partner, and so, of course, it was only natural that she submit herself to him.
Sure, he was blackmailing her, but Christy knew that wasn't why she had humiliated Ryan. In all honesty, the blackmail barely registered as a threat to her now. The original picture was already out on the internet, and if the concierge at the hotel had been any indication, Christy apparently had the support of some large, unknown faction. Maybe she would be better off just owning up to the stupid thing and letting the chips fall as they may.
She already had the confidence of her followers; if she came out as having taken a black lover, she would undoubtedly earn the support of the left. Then she could begin towing the anti-racist line while simultaneously picking up the atheist crowd. Actually, if Christy admitted to the picture being real, she could stand to gain from the situation. That couldn't be right, could it?!
She turned the tap on the tub and ran the numbers again in her head. She'd lose a significant portion of her right-wing supporters, but the potential gains were heavily in her favor. Not to mention she'd be able to publicly associate with William. There was virtually no downside to claiming the picture was real. She could begin passing laws supporting William and his kind with impunity. She could reject bills aimed at supporting people like her piece of sh*t husband. She could openly carry and give birth to black children.
Christy came without even touching herself. Just the thought alone of publicly carrying and birthing William's baby while married to Ryan was enough to push her over. She had no choice. She absolutely had to admit the picture was real. That was the path that led to her true happiness. In a state of bliss, she took out a cigarette and lit it, texting Ryan to bring her a beer. She felt like celebrating her little victory.
But what was she going to do about her kids? Bella was too young to really understand what was happening, so she would have a decent chance to grow up learning the new standards Christy would be enforcing. Her son, though, Christy had had Cater from the moment she turned 18, so he understood, albeit loosely, what relationships should look like. Treating Carter's father like a prissy bitch would confuse the boy. Christy gnawed on her lip; her son's reeducation would need to be handled by someone outside of their ******.
She doubted William would be willing to take the time to coach her son into accepting the new dynamic. And even if he were, she knew deep down that the odds of William simply burying the boy at some point were high, seeing as he'd already threatened her with just such an inevitability. Thinking about the problem was beginning to annoy Christy; could she simply ship the boy off? Send him overseas to a boarding school? Probably… but then the chance of him being indoctrinated against her would rise, and she couldn't allow something like that to come back to bite her.
She puffed angrily on her cigarette as the problem persisted. “Miserable fucking mistake... I should have just aborted him when I had the chance. I knew it was too early for a fucking kid, but that faggot husband of mine just had to whine to my parents. Ugh.” Even in the depths of Christy's devotion to the Lord God, she had been hesitant to have Carter. Her parents and Ryan had fought tooth and nail to ensure she kept him, however, and now she was kicking herself for being so weak.
“If only William had been there, he would have stood by me.” She smiled wistfully at the thought of a happier youth. No, the boy had to go. There simply weren't any decent, or legal, ways of dealing with the child in a way that would allow her to live the life she wanted and maintain control of the ******. “I'll have my assistant start looking into cheap transfer schools and ship him off to the first one she comes up with. Then he'll be out of my hair.”
Christy eased her aching body into the bath and allowed the warm water to start soaking her tired muscles. William had not gone easy on her after she'd agreed to submit to him. She closed her eyes and found herself back in the hotel room. William was standing at the window overlooking the city, naked as the day he was born. She remembered how the light reflected off his ebony skin, a thin sheen of sweat coating his chiseled muscles.
“You're an evil man, you know that? There's a reason parents warn their children about people like you!” Christy sat on the edge of the bed, holding a damp cloth to her abused pussycat. The cold water helped with the soreness.
William turned to regard her with an amused grin on his face. “And yet, here you are. If the warnings worked, then I'm sure you'd be in your office like a good little god-fearing Christian, no? I think, perhaps, those parents may have warned you not of the dangers but of the temptations.”
Christy didn't know how to respond to that; regardless of the warning, it was true that she had ultimately ended up in bed with him. “You keep glaring at me like that, and I'll make sure your asshole ends up twice the size it was coming in here.” He folded his powerful arms across his broad chest and arched an eyebrow as though imploring her to continue.
Christy scoffed sarcastically at the threat: “Of course, that's all you know how to do, you beast. Threaten people, and fuck! What, you think that fat cock of yours can turn me into some kind of love-sick puppy? You think you're going to “conquer” me by making me cum? Don't make me laugh; this isn't some cheap porno.” She lifted the cloth away from her cunt and gingerly rubbed at it. “At this rate, you're just going to break my pussycat and make me hate you even more than I already do.”
Christy pulled a cigarette from the pack on the nightstand and lit it. William chuckled and shook his head. “If fucking you could make you love me, then I wouldn't have had to beat you, too. Or threaten your ****** or blackmail you. No, love is not something you can develop with just kindness. That sort of weakness is for Whitebois, and look at where you happen to be instead of with him. Love is something that grows through disparity. Love comes from recognizing someone has what you don't.”
It was Christy's turn to laugh. “Bullshit! If you think for a second that you have something I don't, then you are sorely mistaken. My life is wonderful. Though I will admit you have a fantastic cock, What do you think? Should I fall in love with just your cock? They make some pretty impressive dildos these days; maybe I'll fall in love with a horse.” She took a drag of her smoke and watched his advance from the corner of her eye.
“I know I have something you don't, Christy. It's the reason you're here spraying your fuckin’ piss all over this cheap carpet. It's the reason you've got four of my loads cloggin’ up your throat. I have a purpose. But you see, all you've got is power. And power without purpose is just cruelty. Why's it so hard for you to see that I'm trying to make you a better person? Let me give purpose to your power.”
That comment struck Christy, and she fell silent as she contemplated his words. Ultimately, she fell back on her stubborn ways and replied with vitriol, “No, I'm here because you're a dirty fuckin’ gorilla who threatened to kill my son. I'm here because I have no fucking choice. I'm here because you God damn apes refuse to fucking evolve.” Then William was on top of her. She knew it was coming and didn't fight it. She'd learned what got her beat and what didn't, but she just couldn't help but bite back with her words.
She screamed as his fist crashed into her ribs, her hands instinctively moving to protect her vital organs as another blow caught her in the kidney. Then he had his hand in her hair, shoving her face deep into the pillows of the bed. She could feel his large fingers work themselves into her asshole. “I warned you, Christy. Call me an ape one more time, and you'll be getting free dental work.”
Christy coughed as she felt his weight settle on her back. The cool sensation of lube traced its way down the small of her back and then between her ass cheeks, and she knew he was about to ruin her asshole. “oof! Heh! Ahhh, what rhymes with ****!? Eeeeek heh!” Her breaths were short, and she labored with his weight on her back.
“Don't do this, Christy; you're better than this.” Will's voice was full of resignation and disappointment. Somehow, that hurt Christy more than the punches had. But she was too far into her spite and rebellion to stop.
“Yeah! Heeeehhh, it's an aaaappeeee you dumb nig-oof! Unnnggghghh” Williams' forearm came to rest on the back of her neck as he forced himself into her ass. It didn't hurt nearly as much as it had the first time William had chosen to use that hole, but it still knocked what little wind Christy had out of her. She tried to moan, but it came out as a reedy whistle instead. Sparks began to flicker across her vision, and Christy knew she was about to be fucked unconscious again.
Then she was back in her warm tub, a soft knock at the door. “What?!” She called out, annoyed that someone was interrupting her recollection.
“I brought your beer, mistress." Ryan's pitiful voice floated into the steam-laden room. Christy had forgotten about him completely.
“Well? Bring it in, dumbass.” The door clicked, and Ryan hesitantly stepped in. Christy wasn't surprised by how rapidly he was adjusting to the new dynamic. She'd had him pegged as a spineless coward when they first met, and he was certainly living up to it now. “Don't just stand there; gimme the beer! Fuck sakes. And for the record, if you look at me like that again, I'm calling the cops and telling them you did this to me. Now fuck off.”
He'd been ogling her naked body from the moment he came through the door, and it made her skin crawl. The door clicked shut behind him, but he spoke from the other side of it, as though that made having to listen to him easier. “I love you… I'm sorry, mistress.”
Christy rolled her eyes and took a swig from the beer. “Whatever, eat shit and choke on it.” Tomorrow was going to be a chaotic day, and Christy couldn't wait for it to be over. The sooner she got through the press conference, the sooner she could mount herself on Williams' massive fuck-stick again. She rubbed absently at her stomach as she thought about him.
There was no doubt that she was pregnant. While she hadn't tested, William had exclusively fucked her bareback and had exclusively pumped every last drop of his cum into her pussycat. With seed as virile as his, it was all but guaranteed she'd be having his child in nine months. At least now she'd have a decent caretaker for it; if Ryan knew what was good for him, he'd treat her child like royalty.
“I'll have to see if there are any decent chastity belts for him; I can't have him getting distracted while on duty, or off duty, for that matter. Actually, I should probably just have him castrated; it's not like he's going to need it for anything. I'll have my assistant book him an appointment.” As Christy mused, she got a text.
Opening the message revealed it was from William: "I dropped off a gift for you; bitch-ass Whiteboi tried steppin’ up, so I put him in his place; wear it tomorrow for the conference.” Ugh, he literally couldn't get any fucking hotter, could he?!
A knock sounded at the door, and Christy chuckled. “Bring it in.” Ryan stepped through the door with a bloodied nose. His eyes had taken on a distant kind of stare that often resulted from incredibly traumatic events. Christy was sure he'd get over it.
“Well? Hand it over!” Christy held out a hand, and Ryan placed a small jewelry box into it. She cracked it open to discover a small spade pendant attached to a long silver choke chain. She immediately put it on and sent a selfie of her wearing it to William. “I won't thank you, but you probably don't need my thanks anyway.”
Setting the phone down, she noticed Ryan lingering in the room. “Are you still fucking here? What do you want?” Ryan broke down into tears and then started pleading with her. He didn't understand what was happening, why she was doing this to him, or what he had done to deserve the abuse. Christy silently listened and drank her beer before his annoying rambling finally came to an end.
“Are you done?” Christy looked him over empirically; he was holding a handcloth to his face and shaking slightly. It was hard for her to picture why she'd ever considered him a man. His soft, pudgy body had refused to develop even after she'd hired a personal trainer for him. She remembered his constant bitching about the effort and time it had taken away from his game nights with “the bros." Pathetic. That was the only thought that came to her mind when she looked at him now. A sad, pathetic little man-child.
“I've already explained myself. Your place in my life as anything other than an object to vent my frustrations about has ended. You clearly never understood where I stood in the social hierarchy, nor did you ever truly understand what I wanted from you. I blame myself for not seeing it sooner, and I'm grateful to finally have the chance to live my life the way I ought to have lived it from the start. Trust me when I say I can make this so much worse for you. It may be painful now, but you'll come to understand just how generous I'm being by allowing you to remain my husband. Now get out, and if we need to have this talk again, there will be horrendous consequences.”
Ryan finally looked up at her with pained eyes. He looked as though there was more he wanted to say, but on a second thought, he simply nodded and gave her a small, fragile “yes, ma’am” before leaving. Christy toyed with the small pendant around her neck. Tomorrow would bring about ruinous change in the world, for better or worse. The results of her disclosure during the press conference were unknown to her, but she knew in her heart that it was the path she needed to take.
She'd spent so long utterly blinded by her faith in the white race and by religion that she'd failed to clearly see all of the injustice taking place beyond her insulated bubble. But now that her eyes had been opened, she couldn't look away from it. She had the privilege to do something to correct the system from her position and had, instead, used that privilege to perpetuate the hate and pain. And for what? For her comfortable, Idyllic life? To “protect” her ******? Christy shook her head with shame. There was nothing there worth protecting. A pathetic, entitled baby-of-a-man and two spoiled, snotty beats. But that would be fixed. They could be guided into a better future with her intervention.
Citizens across the country could be led into a better world with Williams' influence. Together, they could forge a new, glorious, and righteous path. This was about to stretch far beyond herself, and she couldn't possibly have been more excited for it. Christy clasped the pendant in her hands and offered a final prayer to her cruel and unloving God; it would be her last words to the failure of a deity. “Dear Lord, from the bottom of my heart and with all the strength in my soul, go. Fuck. Your. Self. Amen.”
- Previous page: Ch.01
I really enjoy hearing about what people like in them! This was a bit of a departure from the main storyline as I got a bit distracted by Christy's story. If you decide to read my other works I would be thrilled to know what you think!
