*Readers note: this article has been edited by site staff and no longer represents the original draft as published. There may be words placed incorrectly and out of context, or altogether censored in order to adhere to site policies. I will not be making further alterations to this work, so please enjoy it for what it is. Apologies.*
The phone rang for a second time, and Elly grunted. The display shone dimly up at her in the pitch-black room, her husband's name scrawled across the screen. She thought briefly about answering it, but then her arms were pulled behind her back, and her face was buried in the stained mattress once again.
“That yer faggot again?” The harsh words stuffed themselves into her ears, and she gritted her teeth, trying to overcome her clenched muscles to respond.
“Fuck you!” She hissed her defiance through clenched teeth as her orgasm subsided. “Don't bring him up!”
There was a chuckle from behind her, and then a meaty palm clapped across her bare ass. “Aye, my bad, Mrs. G. You're just’ here for this good dick; I feel ou." There was another vicious clap, and the man's thrusts redoubled in force and tempo. Elly bit down on the pillow in front of her as her body was ravaged.
She loved this. More than her marriage, more than her husband, more than her ******. Elly needed this pleasure unlike anything else in her life. The fact that her worried husband was trying to figure out where she was only heightened the intensity of her orgasms. “harder! Fuck me harder, you little shit!” Elly growled as her body began to tremble with yet another climax.
A fist curled through her fiery red hair and hauled back. Elly gasped as the massive cock stretching out her cunt started to rattle her spine like a jackhammer. “Yeah? You fuckin' like that, don't you? Fuckin' love this fat black dick, dontcha bitch?” Another hand wrapped around Elly's throat, and she mewled like a cat in heat. “Fuckin' cum all over this dick, bitch! Cum! Clench that fuckin' cunt like a good little white bitch!”
Elly’s eyes rolled back in their sockets, and a hot jet of squirt washed down the man's thighs as her body locked up in pleasure. She squealed as her lungs finally started working, and she flopped forward on the bed as the man released his hold of her. He clicked his tongue, agitated. “Tsk, getchur pussy back up here, ya dumb slut, I ain't fuckin’ cum yet.”
Elly fought the exhaustion and did her best to prop her ass back up for the man, moaning absently into the pillow. “I thought you older sluts were 'sposed to be good at this shit. I'ma ditch yo ass if you ain't going to milk my load out.” His cock slid effortlessly into her soaked pussy, and he started pumping again.
Elly panicked at the thought of losing him and being replaced. She grunted again and did everything she could to tighten every muscle she could think of to tighten. The man cooed in delight as his pleasure increased. "Yeah, das mo like it! Get it! Get it!” Elly could tell he was close, and she let the excitement carry her closer to another orgasm.
“I'ma fuckin’ breed this cougar pussy! You want my fuckin' kids? You want my fuckin' babies?” His thrusts were coming faster.
“I want them! Ah! I want your black babies! Gimme your fuckin’ babies!” Elly couldn't have stopped herself, even if she'd wanted to. The desire to feel the man's seed paint her insides overrode every other thought she was having. She heard the grunt and then felt the spasm as his cock lurched and twitched inside her. The hot torrent of cum he flooded her cunt with drove her over the edge and into yet another orgasm.
He dismounted her, giving her ass another slap before collapsing onto the mattress beside her. Elly moaned and twitched as her body continued disobeying her. Devon always left her like this; his powerful 18-year-old frame utterly dominated her in every aspect, and his ridiculously huge cock had long since rendered her husband an absolute embarrassment in comparison.
He reached for the nightstand and produced a joint. He lit it, took two puffs, and then passed it to Elly. She turned onto her side and took the joint, savoring the heavy scent as she inhaled. “Get your pussy juice off my fuckin' dick, woman. And if your pussy-ass husband calls again when you're here, I'ma fuckin’ jump his ass, clear?”
Elly bristled at the mention of her husband but chose to wrap her lips around his semi-hard cock instead of replying. Devon's ****** had moved into the neighborhood three months ago, and there had almost immediately been friction. Elly's husband had instantly been suspicious of the new, black ****** that moved in a few doors down, and things had come to a head when Devon's father, Maurice, had accidentally parked his car in front of her house.
Some choice words and a narrowly avoided brawl later, and Elly had been forced to take up the mantle of peacekeeper. Arriving on their doorstep with freshly baked pie, only to be ushered into the house and then threatened into sex. Devon was wildly intelligent and knew exactly how to leverage her emotions, as well as her seemingly limitless libido. He'd promised that, in exchange for sex whenever he desired it, her ****** wouldn't encounter any unfortunate accidents.
If Elly was being honest with herself, she'd given up her body far more easily than she should have. She'd always been attracted to black men, and both Devon and his father were handsome in ways that made her pussy tingle anytime she so much as looked their way. Her resistance had been token at best, and by the second time Devon demanded her pussy, it had essentially become consensual sex. Now, if Devon asked her to divorce her husband, she might feel bad about it for a few days.
“You owe me three hundred for the cum and another eighty for the weed. Found out which high school your boy is going to, so if you don't cough up the cash, he ain't graduating outside a hospital bed, clear?” He said it casually, almost flippantly. Elly didn't care about the money; Dave was loaded, and she probably would have paid more for being made to cum like she had. A thrill of adrenaline crept up her spine at the mention of her son, though.
Elly pulled his cock out of her throat long enough to beg pathetically, “Please! I'll pay! Just don't hurt my ******!”
Devon snorted, “Whatever, get back on that dick.”
Elly returned to bobbing her head on his cock. She'd hoped that she sounded concerned, but between the lingering pleasure and the satisfaction of servicing Devon's cock, she knew she hadn't sounded as desperate or sincere as she should have. Her ****** seemed to matter less and less every passing day, and that scared her.
Especially now that she was pregnant with Devon's child. They'd never once used condoms, and she'd been off birth control for years since Dave barely even glanced at her anymore. Devon always crammed at least two loads into her greedy pussy, and they were fucking just about every day now. It'd taken him just three days to spear one of her eggs—a miracle given she was almost 40. Elly had immediately raced out and picked up some plan B, but she just couldn't bring herself to follow through on it.
Now she was caught in a limbo, unable to abandon Devon's child, and too ashamed to admit her infidelity to Dave. She knew the man likely wouldn't divorce her over it; her children were old enough to support themselves, true, but they weren't out of the house yet, and neither of them had actually finished high school. A divorce would only throw them into chaos, and she knew Dave wouldn't let something like that happen.
She'd considered telling Dave it was his, but that would only buy her enough time to give birth to the child. Devon wasn't fair-skinned; in fact, his entire ****** was likely the darkest shade of black she'd ever seen. There was no hope of Dave ever believing the child was his. So, Elly was stuck. She hadn't actually told Devon that she was carrying his baby out of fear that he'd force her to abort it, but Elly suspected the teen already knew he'd knocked her up.
It could be that his lack of curiosity or concern meant he didn't care if she was either way. He had to know that his potent, virile seed was basically guaranteed to impregnate her, didn't he? Devon presented the joint to her again, and she slid her lips off his cock with a wet pop before taking a long drag. Elly thought of what the other women in her congregation would think if they learned about this. Letting a black man ravage her and then doing drugs in his room while pregnant. The immorality of it made her dizzy, though she supposed that could also be the weed.
Eventually Devon dropped another load down her throat, and she knew he was done. Three in one night wasn't a record by any stretch—the first few nights, especially—had been incredibly taxing on her body. But she'd noticed he'd been slowing down recently, and the concern that she was beginning to bore him felt like a brick in her stomach.
Almost as though the young man were reading her mind, he drew his attention away from his phone to ask her a simple question: “How old's your ********?” The question struck Elly like a slap, and for a moment she just gaped at Devon, not willing to clarify what she knew he meant. “I fuck you stupid or sum'? I asked how old your girl was, bitch.” He'd put his phone to the side, and Elly knew she would need to answer if she didn't want to be beaten again.
She briefly considered lying to him and saying her ******** wasn't 18, but she knew he would find out on his own eventually. She'd had her children back to back, almost exactly 9 months apart. While her son was almost 19, her ******** had only just celebrated her 18th birthday the week before Devon and his ****** had arrived in their neighborhood.
“Can I ask... why?” She probed at his question, hoping it was unrelated to her worries. But Devon seemed hell-bent on breaking her heart that night.
“I wanna fuck her. I need some new pussy n’ yo ass is losing’ its luster if you catch me. She's eighteen, yeah?” Elly couldn't bring herself to lie to Devon, so, holding her tears back, she shakily nodded her head. “Aight, gimme her contact information. Sluts like you pump out sluts; it shouldn't take me a day or two to get her ass bouncin’ on my shit. Leave my money on the table in the kitchen and get the fuck out.”
Elly swiped through her phone with bleary eyes and did as she was told, unable to bring herself to disobey him. She knew she should be fighting this and knew that it was a mother's duty to protect her ******** from a man like this. But in the moment, the only thing Elly could feel was pain and loss from not being Devon's top choice. This swirled chaotically, with a tinge of jealousy for her ********. The little bitch would soon usurp Elly's rightful place under Devon's strong, African body, and she resented her for that.
Elly gathered up her clothes and got dressed, trying her best not to openly weep in front of Devon, who had started watching something on his phone. Elly pulled her thong up, knowing it would be soaked in cum by the time she got home. It never mattered; Dave would be asleep now, having failed to reach her, and she would have the house to herself to clean and shower before reluctantly joining her husband in bed.
Maurice glanced up from his place on the couch as Elly walked out, careful to leave the small wad of bills on the table as she'd been told. His eyes tracked her across the kitchen and through the entryway, as they always did. But unlike every other night, this time Maurice spoke up before she could slip her pumps on and make the shameful walk back to her house.
“Tha fuck you cryin’ fer?” The words took Elly aback. The man had never spoken to her in all her comings and goings, despite clearly knowing what she had been doing with his son. Lord knew there were occasions where she couldn't control her voice. Even still, the man had never mentioned it, never sneered at her, and never even so much as attempted to insert himself in his son's business. Elly paused as she bent to collect her shoes.
“I-what…?” She blushed as she realized her surprise was making her come across poorly to the man. “I wasn't crying!” But the sniffle in her voice rendered her denial moot.
“Naw, I know wassup. My boy jus’ ditched you for a younger pussy, aye?” It wasn't really a question, but he'd given her space in the conversation to open up. And despite the distance between them, Elly couldn't help but feel somewhat touched by his act of reaching out. She hadn't expected it, and in the void left by Devon coldly shunning her, she was grateful for the affection.
“He just... well, I'm getting old and... I don't know what I expected.” She was trying her best not to start crying again. It stung; she knew it shouldn't, but all the same, she couldn't deny that she'd developed something more for Devon than a simple sexual lust.
Maurice came over to her, taking his time to approach her as though she would bolt like a frightened deer. “Yeah, that's how it is. Ya get old, n’ ya lose ya value. But don't let my old lady know I said that. I'd be in a casket by tomorrow.” His gruff chuckle at his own joke managed to warm a small part of Elly's chest. His arms came around her, and for a brief moment, she didn't know what to do. The hug was nice and comforting, but appropriately formal.
Again, Elly was taken aback by how thoughtful Maurice was being. She hadn't expected this kind of care; it confused her as much as it settled her. “If you need someone to lean on, just let’ me know, you hear? I ain't no young buck now, but everything still works the way it ought to. If you get lonely, just’ keep me in mind, yeah?”
Was he offering her... sex? Did he think she'd just fuck him? Immediately after Devon had essentially dumped her for her ********, Elly was so bewildered that all she could do was smile and nod. “I'll keep that in mind. But… what about your wife?” Elly had only ever seen the woman when they were moving in; she couldn't remember ever seeing her at the house after that.
“Aw hell, that ol' bat works nights down at the laundromat. I've been goin’ mad sittin’ here, jerkin’ myself numb. She won't let me touch her; she says she's always tired. I ain't see why we can't help each other with that. ' Especially since yo' nights just freed up, if ya catch me.” So, Maurice was propositioning her, and rather directly at that. A thought occurred to Elly.
“Maurice, you don't... You wouldn't happen to think that I'm a prostitute, would you?” His confusion was immediate, and Elly could see she'd gotten the wrong impression. “No, sorry! Nevermind, I'm sorry!” She tried to pull away, but the big man simply laughed and held onto her.
“I ain't never met a whore who pays to get fucked. Nah, I knew you was jus' a little white slut lookin’ for good dick. Ain't nothin' wrong with that. Known a million like you, Lord Willin’, I'll know a million mo'. Don't you go worryin' that lil red head of yours; to me, you jus' a regular ol’ slut.”
Despite the man's harsh words, Elly found herself relaxing in his arms, oddly comforted by his insults and belittling. But she knew, somewhere deep in her mind, that the man used the terms affectionately. They were tender off his tongue, and instead of being offended, Elly clung to them with pride. As though they were expectations she should be living up to.
Finally, the large man separated himself from her, and she looked up into his dark eyes. She could feel it then, like a creeping jolt of electricity up her spine. There was lust in his eyes—the slight parting of his lips, the way he had disengaged from the hug but hadn't quite let go of her. She knew they were going to kiss before he even made his move, and she let him.
Elly was far beyond understanding what her life was. These past few months had been such an insane rollercoaster of emotions and experiences that she couldn't even tell whether to be upset or overjoyed. All she knew in that moment was that Maurice's lips were the softest, most reassuring thing she'd felt amidst the turmoil. She melted into him, willing herself to forget about Devon, about her husband, the baby, and her children. She passed her tongue through his lips and deepened the kiss, letting Maurice know that she needed more.
Surprisingly, he cut her short. It wasn't abrupt, but feeling his lips pull away from hers made Elly feel as though she were being abandoned once again. Maurice pressed an incredibly large finger to her lips to shush her imminent protests. “This keeps on, and’ you ain't going to have a home to get back o. Shuffle on, woman, but be back here tomorrow. I reckon Dev ain't done with yo' ass jus’ yet, and’ I'ma want my piece of you when he's done. Ya hear?”
She picked up the hint of reluctance in his voice as he spoke, and she nodded, trying not to come across any more desperate than she already had. “I'll be by tomorrow. Thanks for this, Maurice. It really meant a lot. I hope you're right... about Devon, I mean.”
He smiled warmly. “I know my boy; jus’ cause he's lookin’ for a new bitch don't mean he's done witchu. He's jus’ like his ol’ man that way.”
Elly saw a chance for some light flirting and decided to take it, not wanting to leave her end of their talk on a sour note: “Hopefully that isn't the only thing he got from his old man.” She was careful to lace her words with anticipation, and Maurice didn't miss a beat.
“Naw girl, if anythin’ this ol’ dog still got him beat, jus wa wait n’ see.” And with that, Elly left the Watson residence for her own house. As she suspected, the lights were all out. Disabling the alarm, she quietly stepped through the entrance and threw her coat into the closet. Her crotch had grown uncomfortable with all the cum that had soaked through her thong and into her pants, so her first stop was the upstairs washroom.
Tip-toeing her way up the stairs, Elly congratulated herself on another successful night of cheating on her husband. She'd long stopped feeling bad about it; even before Devon came into her life, Elly had entertained the idea of going behind Dave's back. She'd fought for years to gain even a sliver of the man's affections, but he'd seemed to have forgotten about the passion they'd once shared.
If Dave refused to give her what she needed, then why shouldn't she get it elsewhere? And it wasn't like he'd ever been particularly good in the first place. Especially now that she hag Devon to compare him to. It wasn't that Elly disliked her husband; he was kind, compassionate, and a good father. Their children had never wanted for anything, nor had they lacked affection or care. All things considered, Elly was incredibly proud of the ****** she'd built.
“If only he were Devon...” but she banished the thought. Devon would never be the kind of man to raise her children, not because he couldn't; he definitely could if he'd wanted to. But she knew he didn't, and that was the problem. If she could keep her relationship with Devon and have Dave raise the children that came of it, that would be the ideal situation. But how could she get Dave to accept that path?
Elly passed her son's room, so wrapped up in thought that she nearly, very nearly, missed the soft electric whirring that emanated from beyond his door. She had almost continued on to the washroom, thinking it'd been her imagination, but leaning a bit closer to the door brought the sound into sharper focus. It was the definite oscillating hum of an electric motor. It is almost like a slowly reciprocating device. It reminded her of the small breast pump she'd used when Miranda had been born.
Curiosity got the better of her, and she silently pressed an ear to his door. Her eyebrows drew together as the sounds she picked up confused her further. There was a wet sort of... squelching? And soft, feminine muttering. “What the fuck is he doing in there? Does he have a girl over?!” An indignant rage overtook Elly for a brief moment as she considered how he could have possibly thought he could get away with that. Deciding to brave the consequences, whatever they may be, Elly cracked his door open and peered in.
As it turned out, Daniel was alone. Which confused Elly as her mind struggled to comprehend what she was seeing. There, on the bed, was her son. Or, at least, she thought it was Daniel. They were dressed in what had to be some of the sluttiest clothing Elly had ever seen in person. The shortest miniskirt possible, fishnet stockings, knee-high socks, a long blond wig, and a bra holding almost nothing.
They were on their hands and knees, facing away from her, the room softly lit by the glow of a laptop screen in front of them. They were watching some kind of pornography, or maybe recording? Elly couldn't tell. Her eyes were locked onto the machine resting on the bed behind them, obviously the source of the electric whirring she'd heard. She watched on in stark amazement as the machine pushed, and then pulled, one of the largest Black dildos she'd ever seen, in and out of their asshole.
A moan slid out from the person's mouth, and Elly knew instantly that it was, in fact, Daniel. But the contrast between the boy she knew and the degenerate slut she saw on the bed was dismantling her mind. When had he gotten all of this stuff? Did that mean he was gay? Was he trans? A crossdresser? How long had he been doing this? Did his sister know? Did Dave know?
Elly gaped at the scene playing out before her, noting absently that there seemed to be some kind of device around his penis. A cage of some sort. And then her son reached for something—a bottle of some kind—lube, maybe? Elly was still so out of it that she didn't process what was happening until it had already happened.
Daniel had turned to re-lubricate the massive black cock pummeling his ass when his eyes landed squarely on hers. There was an incredibly tense moment where neither of them so much as flinched, obviously not sure what to do or say. Elly’s mind was screaming for her to shut the door, but she just stared dumbly into the room, into her son's widening eyes.
Finally, with a jolt of reality, Elly slowly stepped back and shut the door with a soft click. There were no shouts or rushed movements trying to cover up what was happening. Everything returned to the way it had been before she opened the door, the soft electric whirring continuing on the other side. Numbly, Elly turned to the washroom and stiffly made her way inside.
What was she going to do? The information she'd just been forced to take in was so overwhelming that she didn't even know where to start. Did she confront him? Pretend she hadn't seen anything? She'd obviously been snooping, so did she even have any right to bring it up? Elly didn't realize that she'd stepped into the shower with her pants on.
If she did confront him, what would she even say? He was an adult and could make his own choices. It's not really like she had much of a moral leg to stand on when it came to her sexual proclivities. Finally, noticing her pants were entirely soaked, she swore softly and began to strip them off. A task made infinitely more difficult with how they were now plastered to her slender, well-toned legs.
Elly was fit for 38. She kept a stringent exercise routine and monitored her diet closely. Having two children had threatened to balloon her weight, and now that her metabolism was virtually nonexistent, she needed to maintain a razor focus in order to keep her figure. At just under 5'9", she clocked in at a healthy 142 lbs. Mostly lean muscle, but with some definite cushioning where it mattered.
She'd undergone breast implant surgery when she was 34 as a gift from Dave. The surgeon, Dr. Arnold Bowman, had been blessed by Hephaestus, based on the way he'd sculpted her chest. The swell of her 34DD breasts was natural, but their perk and bounce were anything but. She always took a brief moment in the mirror to admire how they sat—gorgeously rounded and perfectly proportioned for her body.
The slight ripple of her abs was a constant reminder of the work and dedication she put into her physical appearance. Elly frowned as she peeled the second leg of her pants from her body. Not that the routine had attracted any attention from Dave. Lousy bum. She wrung out her pants as best she could before plopping them into the hamper outside the shower. A problem for future Elly, no doubt.
Daniel's moan floated across her mind, and she drifted back into her thoughts, swiping a hand across her smooth slit and noting, with amusement, the substantial amount of cum it came away coated in. God, Devon came so much, as though he had a bottomless prostate. The image of Daniel bent over on his bed, getting plowed by the comically large cock, played across her vision.
Elly bit her lip. At the end of the day, Elly loved her children; she wanted them to be happy. If that meant wading into the sticky mess of what her son got up to in that room, then she would just have to do it. The last thing she wanted, as hypocritical as it was, was for them to keep secrets from her.
Daniel's room was silent when she passed by again. The electric whir that had caught her attention had vanished, and she suspected her son was in the middle of a quiet breakdown. Thoughts much like hers would be running through his head as sleep refused to take him. She considered knocking, putting an end to the rampant speculation he must have been enduring, but ultimately decided that it was too soon. They both needed time to come up with words to explain their feelings.
Her shared room with Dave was not as silent. His loud snoring had been a constant companion since they'd started living together. They had both tried almost every solution available to the market to help settle his god awful sawing, but he could never stick with one long enough for it to make a difference. He would invariably forget to use it or buy more, and then that would be it. Back to the deafening roar of his nose and throat.
It was only recently that Elly had come to like that part of Dave. She could come and go from the bedroom as she pleased, using his terrible rumble as a cover for her movements. Their king-sized, four-post bed left her with ample space to move about without so much as jostling her husband. She dropped the towel that had been wrapped around her torso and slid into the silken sheets.
She was extremely grateful that she'd had her body lasered. Eliminating the need to shave had made her life infinitely better on every level, and she swore she would never take for granted the feeling of bare skin against silk sheets again. Dave moaned and snorted before rolling away from her, smacking his lips loudly before muttering something in his sleep.
The guilt crept back into her heart for a moment as the memories of their time together crammed into a small one-bedroom apartment flooded back to her. They had been young and dumb, happy and indomitable. She had worked two jobs, and he had poured every waking moment into his schooling. Things were tight, but they'd made it work, and they'd had fun doing it. They were bright, nostalgic days.
But that was then, and this was now. Elly had grown, Dave had grown, and it was just an unfortunate thing that they had grown apart the way they had. She thought about scooting across the mattress to press herself up against his back, curling an arm around him, and holding him like she had all those years ago. But the sound of her hips slapping against Devon's stopped her. She turned over, away from her husband, and tried to sleep.
-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-
The Geltan house was early to rise during the week. Dave was up and out of the house before Elly even awoke most mornings. It was a rare thing for her to beat him to the coffee maker, and today had been no different. A small note sat next to the brewer, penned in Dave's rushed but articulate hand. “Glad you came home. Had me worried. Have a great day. Love you.”
Elly crumpled the note and tossed it into the recycling. Closing in on 6 a.m., the kids would be waking up soon, and she wasn't particularly looking forward to facing Daniel. She had thought about what to say but ultimately decided to open with reassurance. “You can trust me; you can talk to me; I'll love you regardless.” Hopefully, it would be enough to put a hole in his emotional walls.
Miranda was up first, bouncing down the stairs as though life had rolled out a red carpet just for her. She'd inherited Elly's shockingly red hair, and it drifted across her shoulders in broad curls that Elly had always been slightly jealous of. Miranda had gotten more of her father's face, but she carried his narrow chin much better than he did.
The 18-year-old girl slid across the tiled floor in clean socks, ending up next to Elly at the coffee machine. “Hey mom!” It was just a little too bright and a little too eager. It set Elly's hackles to rise, and she directed an upturned eyebrow at her ********.
"Well, someone's excited about something. Couldn't be school... couldn't be the part-time job, and I know for a fact that the cheer team has been running you through drills non-stop. so that leaves... a boy?” Elly was rewarded with the shocked look of someone watching Sherlock Holmes unveil the plot of the show.
“There's no way you guessed that! Nooooooo way! How'd you know? Are you wire-tapping me?!” Her ********'s accusation was fair, though—maybe not for the reasons she would have guessed. Elly decided to play this one closer to the truth than would be believable.
“No! Of course not! I just sold your contact information to the highest bidder. Have fun in Albania working the fields as a mail-order bride!”
Miranda rolled her eyes and resumed plucking a mug from the cabinet. “No, seriously, what gave it away? If *** finds out, I'm pretty sure he's going to lock me away in my room like Rapunzel.”
Elly appreciated the relationship she had with her ********. They'd bonded a lot more than she had with Daniel, and as a result, there was an uncanny sense of mutual trust between them. Miranda had never held anything back from Elly, always coming to her about every minor struggle. Or, at least, Elly hoped that was the case; after last night, she wasn't sure she could take that as fact.
“Sweetie, I was eighteen once. I can tell you the only thing that would have me bouncing down the stairs like that at six in the morning was a cute boy. Ok, maybe Christmas, too. but it's the middle of June, so...”
Miranda blushed slightly as she dispensed some hot coffee into the mug she'd chosen. Small pastel animals are printed across its side. “It's Devon... from down the street. You know, the Watson's boy? He got my number somehow, and I guess he wants to take me out. I can understand why he wouldn't come tell me directly; after Daddy... well, after the "incident,” I don't think I'd want to come here either if I were him.”
And there it was. The fruits of Elly's betrayal. She'd served up her ******** to that hungry beast of a man on a silver platter, and she was all too eager to ride it straight to his table. Elly had no doubt that, by the end of the day, her darling ******** would no longer be a virgin. She felt the compulsion to apologize to Miranda come and go, the words dying in her throat before they could ever materialize. Instead, she forced a shocked look into her eyes and pressed for information.
“You said yes? Did he say where he was taking you?”
Miranda wobbled her head, wincing slightly. “He's hot! And the few times I've bumped into him outside his house, he's been really nice to me. I thought I'd give him a shot, you know? He didn't say, just said "out,” so... the mall? Maybe?”
Elly frowned, making sure to give it a motherly tone. Her disapproval was meant to be for the safety and well-being of her ********, not for the feeling of jealousy pulsing through her temples. Little Bastard never took her "out." She only ever got to see him while being pressed into his mattress.
“Well, when you find out, I want you to tell me where and when. I expect you to be home by eleven at the latest. I know it's all new and shiny, but it's a school night, and I don't need you two showing up at my door escorted by a cop!” Elly knew she wasn't going to see her ******** by 11. Devon probably wouldn't let Miranda go until early in the morning. She just hoped he didn't hurt her ******** too badly when he finally decided to push things.
“And if he starts getting handsy, you remind him that your mama is a black belt!”
This got Miranda to chuckle, and she settled at the kitchen table to nurse her coffee. “Yeah, ok, the only black belt you've ever worn is a seatbelt. Mom, don't worry! I'm a big girl. No means no; I know that.”
Elly just needed one more push to make her concern seem legitimate, and then she would drop it. She settled at the table with her ******** and did her best to seem bashful. “I know, sweetie. I trust you. But, you know, boys these days can just be so pushy, you know? I'm just worried about you. Be safe, ok? Oh! But if things do take a turn, you make damn sure he wraps it up, you hear me?! I'm not ready to be a grandma!”
Miranda's face turned crimson as she spluttered into her coffee. “MOM! STOP! PLEASE! OH MY GOD!”.
Daniel picked that moment to round the corner into the kitchen. Elly did her best to make her greeting to him as normal and casual as she could, but there was no hiding the “deer-in-the-headlights” look he had as they locked eyes. Thankfully, Miranda was busy recovering from her comment and didn't seem to notice the awkwardness.
Miranda, seemingly grasping at any chance to bail on the conversation, scooped up her coffee and excused herself to start getting ready for school. Daniel quietly pulled his own cup from the cupboard, and Elly studied his back. She couldn't quite get the image of him bent over on his bed out of her mind when she looked at him like that.
“Dan, can I... can we talk? About last night?” Elly could see his shoulders stiffen, and the grip on his mug tightened ever-so-slightly. He was trembling, clearly scared out of his mind. “Oh, Daniel! No, no, sweety, it's ok. Oh, honey, it's ok!” Elly slid from her chair and threw her arms around him from behind. She shushed him as he silently started sobbing. "Oh, Daniel, you're okay! It's ok! I promise, everything is fine, sweetie. I'm not mad; I'm not upset at all; everything's alright!”
She could feel her son crumple into the counter. The weight of the previous night's worry was flooding out of him like a broken dam. He spun in her arms and buried himself in her chest, shaking and crying as the relief caused him to unclench muscles he probably didn't even know he had. They stood like that for several minutes, him sobbing and her stroking his hair while quietly reassuring him that everything would be ok.
Eventually, Elly asked if he was okay enough to take a seat and have some coffee. He nodded and wiped his tears on her housecoat one last time before shuffling to the table. She gave him a few more minutes to settle and dry his eyes before she started in on her pseudo-interrogation.
“So, before we get into it, I want you to know that I love you; that's unconditional. Full stop. I don't care how things shake out; come what may, I will always love you. I may not understand what that was. But I don't need to in order to love you. Is that clear?”
Daniel nodded, struggling to meet her eyes but not actively avoiding them either. That was good, but it also didn't look like he would be volunteering much information unless she pulled it out of him.
“Ok… so… I guess I should start with the obvious one. Are you still Daniel? Like, are you my son? Or do I have another ******** now?” Elly dove in feet first, using the foundation of unconditional love to springboard into, hopefully, what would be the biggest bombshell of their talk.
To his credit, Daniel looked like a freshly caught fish thrown into the center of the death valley. Elly wasn't sure it would be physically possible for someone to look as utterly uncomfortable as he did in that moment, and she knew that she'd hit the nail on the head straight out of the gate. Hesitantly, he stuttered to a start, “I... well, I guess I don't... I mean, I don't... know? I think?”
Elly stared back at him, waiting for more. When nothing came, she decided to take a more bull-headed approach: “Dan, your father didn't marry me for my wit or my brains; you were bent over getting buttfucked by a fat black dick while dressed like a club slut. I'm struggling to identify anything “straight” about that. You're going to have to help me out here. I can't jump into your head and take a look around, you know? You've obviously been doing... that... for a while, so if anyone would have a decent idea of what's going on with you, it would be you, right?”
Beyond Daniels' absolute horror at her description of the event, her words seemed to have the impact she wanted them to because, instead of a slowly cooking fish, he now looked like a blushing schoolgirl. He tried again, this time with a little more conviction: “I don't know... it's hard for me to describe, or even, like, think about? Some days I feel like I need to be the most feminine person on earth, you know? Some days I want to paint my nails and style my hair, wear cute clothes, flirt with hot guys, and take a bunch of cute selfies, but others... I don't know. Other days I just, like, feel like a dude. Does that make sense? Like, I want to be able to be both when I want to. You know?”
He looked like he was trying to explain it more to himself than to her, but Elly supposed she could understand that feeling somewhat. Some days she wanted to put a boot on Dave's face and tell him to lick the bottom of it; other days she wanted Devon to turn her inside out with his cock. It was give-and-take, push-and-pull. Some days it was more of one than the other; other days it was equal parts of both. Humanity existed on a spectrum in almost every aspect; why couldn't that be a sliding scale as well?
“I think I get that. Some days you're Danielle, others your Daniel. It seems pretty simple. So, with that in mind, I'm assuming last night was more of a Danielle thing? Are both sides of you into guys?” Elly wasn't too sure how to word what she was trying to ask, but Daniel picked up her intent and squirmed a little as he thought about his answer. Her answer?
“So, like, how much do you actually want to know? Because, like, this is going to take a while to get through. Like, it's actually a lot.” He looked up at her, his short, puffy hair partially obscuring his eyes, but the pleading in them told Elly everything that she needed to know. She needed to either be all in or all out. There would be no cherry-picking parts of this story. She looked at the clock over the stove and saw that it was almost 6:45. They weren't going to have time to dig into this without school interrupting.
“Tell you what, I'm going to make a call to your school and let them know that you've come down with a terrible stomach bug, super bad, liquid at both ends and all that, and then you and I are going to go get our nails done. I'll ask you some questions, and you can fill me in on what the deal is. Sound good?”
Daniel turned back into the sweating fish, an uncomprehending look plastered across his face as his expectations of what was going to happen that morning were utterly shredded. Then his face twisted up into a pained look of emotions forcing their way out of an incredibly small box. Her son had obviously been bottling up a lot these past few years, and finally having the ability to vent them into the atmosphere was physically taxing his system.
Elly mentally patted herself on the back for some A+ mothering. It felt good to be a rockstar every now and then, and helping her son come out of his shell, even just a little, was an accomplishment she felt proud of. But then a small pill of dread sprung to life in her guts as she realized that her time with Devon had made it all too easy to forget that her children were people, too. Something about that young man brought out an entirely inhuman side of her. Altogether too willing to abandon those same people in a desperate bid for pleasure and purpose.
She looked at her son, crying at the other end of the table, taking in his pained and relieved expression, and she realized that even in the throes of what should have been an intense and, frankly, incredibly raw moment, her mind had still turned to Devon. That was the moment that Elly came to grips with the fact that she had been broken. And with her ********'s introduction to Devon, it was only a matter of time before her ****** fell apart around her. The players were moving pieces, and she wasn't sure which she was. A player or a piece.
The phone rang for a second time, and Elly grunted. The display shone dimly up at her in the pitch-black room, her husband's name scrawled across the screen. She thought briefly about answering it, but then her arms were pulled behind her back, and her face was buried in the stained mattress once again.
“That yer faggot again?” The harsh words stuffed themselves into her ears, and she gritted her teeth, trying to overcome her clenched muscles to respond.
“Fuck you!” She hissed her defiance through clenched teeth as her orgasm subsided. “Don't bring him up!”
There was a chuckle from behind her, and then a meaty palm clapped across her bare ass. “Aye, my bad, Mrs. G. You're just’ here for this good dick; I feel ou." There was another vicious clap, and the man's thrusts redoubled in force and tempo. Elly bit down on the pillow in front of her as her body was ravaged.
She loved this. More than her marriage, more than her husband, more than her ******. Elly needed this pleasure unlike anything else in her life. The fact that her worried husband was trying to figure out where she was only heightened the intensity of her orgasms. “harder! Fuck me harder, you little shit!” Elly growled as her body began to tremble with yet another climax.
A fist curled through her fiery red hair and hauled back. Elly gasped as the massive cock stretching out her cunt started to rattle her spine like a jackhammer. “Yeah? You fuckin' like that, don't you? Fuckin' love this fat black dick, dontcha bitch?” Another hand wrapped around Elly's throat, and she mewled like a cat in heat. “Fuckin' cum all over this dick, bitch! Cum! Clench that fuckin' cunt like a good little white bitch!”
Elly’s eyes rolled back in their sockets, and a hot jet of squirt washed down the man's thighs as her body locked up in pleasure. She squealed as her lungs finally started working, and she flopped forward on the bed as the man released his hold of her. He clicked his tongue, agitated. “Tsk, getchur pussy back up here, ya dumb slut, I ain't fuckin’ cum yet.”
Elly fought the exhaustion and did her best to prop her ass back up for the man, moaning absently into the pillow. “I thought you older sluts were 'sposed to be good at this shit. I'ma ditch yo ass if you ain't going to milk my load out.” His cock slid effortlessly into her soaked pussy, and he started pumping again.
Elly panicked at the thought of losing him and being replaced. She grunted again and did everything she could to tighten every muscle she could think of to tighten. The man cooed in delight as his pleasure increased. "Yeah, das mo like it! Get it! Get it!” Elly could tell he was close, and she let the excitement carry her closer to another orgasm.
“I'ma fuckin’ breed this cougar pussy! You want my fuckin' kids? You want my fuckin' babies?” His thrusts were coming faster.
“I want them! Ah! I want your black babies! Gimme your fuckin’ babies!” Elly couldn't have stopped herself, even if she'd wanted to. The desire to feel the man's seed paint her insides overrode every other thought she was having. She heard the grunt and then felt the spasm as his cock lurched and twitched inside her. The hot torrent of cum he flooded her cunt with drove her over the edge and into yet another orgasm.
He dismounted her, giving her ass another slap before collapsing onto the mattress beside her. Elly moaned and twitched as her body continued disobeying her. Devon always left her like this; his powerful 18-year-old frame utterly dominated her in every aspect, and his ridiculously huge cock had long since rendered her husband an absolute embarrassment in comparison.
He reached for the nightstand and produced a joint. He lit it, took two puffs, and then passed it to Elly. She turned onto her side and took the joint, savoring the heavy scent as she inhaled. “Get your pussy juice off my fuckin' dick, woman. And if your pussy-ass husband calls again when you're here, I'ma fuckin’ jump his ass, clear?”
Elly bristled at the mention of her husband but chose to wrap her lips around his semi-hard cock instead of replying. Devon's ****** had moved into the neighborhood three months ago, and there had almost immediately been friction. Elly's husband had instantly been suspicious of the new, black ****** that moved in a few doors down, and things had come to a head when Devon's father, Maurice, had accidentally parked his car in front of her house.
Some choice words and a narrowly avoided brawl later, and Elly had been forced to take up the mantle of peacekeeper. Arriving on their doorstep with freshly baked pie, only to be ushered into the house and then threatened into sex. Devon was wildly intelligent and knew exactly how to leverage her emotions, as well as her seemingly limitless libido. He'd promised that, in exchange for sex whenever he desired it, her ****** wouldn't encounter any unfortunate accidents.
If Elly was being honest with herself, she'd given up her body far more easily than she should have. She'd always been attracted to black men, and both Devon and his father were handsome in ways that made her pussy tingle anytime she so much as looked their way. Her resistance had been token at best, and by the second time Devon demanded her pussy, it had essentially become consensual sex. Now, if Devon asked her to divorce her husband, she might feel bad about it for a few days.
“You owe me three hundred for the cum and another eighty for the weed. Found out which high school your boy is going to, so if you don't cough up the cash, he ain't graduating outside a hospital bed, clear?” He said it casually, almost flippantly. Elly didn't care about the money; Dave was loaded, and she probably would have paid more for being made to cum like she had. A thrill of adrenaline crept up her spine at the mention of her son, though.
Elly pulled his cock out of her throat long enough to beg pathetically, “Please! I'll pay! Just don't hurt my ******!”
Devon snorted, “Whatever, get back on that dick.”
Elly returned to bobbing her head on his cock. She'd hoped that she sounded concerned, but between the lingering pleasure and the satisfaction of servicing Devon's cock, she knew she hadn't sounded as desperate or sincere as she should have. Her ****** seemed to matter less and less every passing day, and that scared her.
Especially now that she was pregnant with Devon's child. They'd never once used condoms, and she'd been off birth control for years since Dave barely even glanced at her anymore. Devon always crammed at least two loads into her greedy pussy, and they were fucking just about every day now. It'd taken him just three days to spear one of her eggs—a miracle given she was almost 40. Elly had immediately raced out and picked up some plan B, but she just couldn't bring herself to follow through on it.
Now she was caught in a limbo, unable to abandon Devon's child, and too ashamed to admit her infidelity to Dave. She knew the man likely wouldn't divorce her over it; her children were old enough to support themselves, true, but they weren't out of the house yet, and neither of them had actually finished high school. A divorce would only throw them into chaos, and she knew Dave wouldn't let something like that happen.
She'd considered telling Dave it was his, but that would only buy her enough time to give birth to the child. Devon wasn't fair-skinned; in fact, his entire ****** was likely the darkest shade of black she'd ever seen. There was no hope of Dave ever believing the child was his. So, Elly was stuck. She hadn't actually told Devon that she was carrying his baby out of fear that he'd force her to abort it, but Elly suspected the teen already knew he'd knocked her up.
It could be that his lack of curiosity or concern meant he didn't care if she was either way. He had to know that his potent, virile seed was basically guaranteed to impregnate her, didn't he? Devon presented the joint to her again, and she slid her lips off his cock with a wet pop before taking a long drag. Elly thought of what the other women in her congregation would think if they learned about this. Letting a black man ravage her and then doing drugs in his room while pregnant. The immorality of it made her dizzy, though she supposed that could also be the weed.
Eventually Devon dropped another load down her throat, and she knew he was done. Three in one night wasn't a record by any stretch—the first few nights, especially—had been incredibly taxing on her body. But she'd noticed he'd been slowing down recently, and the concern that she was beginning to bore him felt like a brick in her stomach.
Almost as though the young man were reading her mind, he drew his attention away from his phone to ask her a simple question: “How old's your ********?” The question struck Elly like a slap, and for a moment she just gaped at Devon, not willing to clarify what she knew he meant. “I fuck you stupid or sum'? I asked how old your girl was, bitch.” He'd put his phone to the side, and Elly knew she would need to answer if she didn't want to be beaten again.
She briefly considered lying to him and saying her ******** wasn't 18, but she knew he would find out on his own eventually. She'd had her children back to back, almost exactly 9 months apart. While her son was almost 19, her ******** had only just celebrated her 18th birthday the week before Devon and his ****** had arrived in their neighborhood.
“Can I ask... why?” She probed at his question, hoping it was unrelated to her worries. But Devon seemed hell-bent on breaking her heart that night.
“I wanna fuck her. I need some new pussy n’ yo ass is losing’ its luster if you catch me. She's eighteen, yeah?” Elly couldn't bring herself to lie to Devon, so, holding her tears back, she shakily nodded her head. “Aight, gimme her contact information. Sluts like you pump out sluts; it shouldn't take me a day or two to get her ass bouncin’ on my shit. Leave my money on the table in the kitchen and get the fuck out.”
Elly swiped through her phone with bleary eyes and did as she was told, unable to bring herself to disobey him. She knew she should be fighting this and knew that it was a mother's duty to protect her ******** from a man like this. But in the moment, the only thing Elly could feel was pain and loss from not being Devon's top choice. This swirled chaotically, with a tinge of jealousy for her ********. The little bitch would soon usurp Elly's rightful place under Devon's strong, African body, and she resented her for that.
Elly gathered up her clothes and got dressed, trying her best not to openly weep in front of Devon, who had started watching something on his phone. Elly pulled her thong up, knowing it would be soaked in cum by the time she got home. It never mattered; Dave would be asleep now, having failed to reach her, and she would have the house to herself to clean and shower before reluctantly joining her husband in bed.
Maurice glanced up from his place on the couch as Elly walked out, careful to leave the small wad of bills on the table as she'd been told. His eyes tracked her across the kitchen and through the entryway, as they always did. But unlike every other night, this time Maurice spoke up before she could slip her pumps on and make the shameful walk back to her house.
“Tha fuck you cryin’ fer?” The words took Elly aback. The man had never spoken to her in all her comings and goings, despite clearly knowing what she had been doing with his son. Lord knew there were occasions where she couldn't control her voice. Even still, the man had never mentioned it, never sneered at her, and never even so much as attempted to insert himself in his son's business. Elly paused as she bent to collect her shoes.
“I-what…?” She blushed as she realized her surprise was making her come across poorly to the man. “I wasn't crying!” But the sniffle in her voice rendered her denial moot.
“Naw, I know wassup. My boy jus’ ditched you for a younger pussy, aye?” It wasn't really a question, but he'd given her space in the conversation to open up. And despite the distance between them, Elly couldn't help but feel somewhat touched by his act of reaching out. She hadn't expected it, and in the void left by Devon coldly shunning her, she was grateful for the affection.
“He just... well, I'm getting old and... I don't know what I expected.” She was trying her best not to start crying again. It stung; she knew it shouldn't, but all the same, she couldn't deny that she'd developed something more for Devon than a simple sexual lust.
Maurice came over to her, taking his time to approach her as though she would bolt like a frightened deer. “Yeah, that's how it is. Ya get old, n’ ya lose ya value. But don't let my old lady know I said that. I'd be in a casket by tomorrow.” His gruff chuckle at his own joke managed to warm a small part of Elly's chest. His arms came around her, and for a brief moment, she didn't know what to do. The hug was nice and comforting, but appropriately formal.
Again, Elly was taken aback by how thoughtful Maurice was being. She hadn't expected this kind of care; it confused her as much as it settled her. “If you need someone to lean on, just let’ me know, you hear? I ain't no young buck now, but everything still works the way it ought to. If you get lonely, just’ keep me in mind, yeah?”
Was he offering her... sex? Did he think she'd just fuck him? Immediately after Devon had essentially dumped her for her ********, Elly was so bewildered that all she could do was smile and nod. “I'll keep that in mind. But… what about your wife?” Elly had only ever seen the woman when they were moving in; she couldn't remember ever seeing her at the house after that.
“Aw hell, that ol' bat works nights down at the laundromat. I've been goin’ mad sittin’ here, jerkin’ myself numb. She won't let me touch her; she says she's always tired. I ain't see why we can't help each other with that. ' Especially since yo' nights just freed up, if ya catch me.” So, Maurice was propositioning her, and rather directly at that. A thought occurred to Elly.
“Maurice, you don't... You wouldn't happen to think that I'm a prostitute, would you?” His confusion was immediate, and Elly could see she'd gotten the wrong impression. “No, sorry! Nevermind, I'm sorry!” She tried to pull away, but the big man simply laughed and held onto her.
“I ain't never met a whore who pays to get fucked. Nah, I knew you was jus' a little white slut lookin’ for good dick. Ain't nothin' wrong with that. Known a million like you, Lord Willin’, I'll know a million mo'. Don't you go worryin' that lil red head of yours; to me, you jus' a regular ol’ slut.”
Despite the man's harsh words, Elly found herself relaxing in his arms, oddly comforted by his insults and belittling. But she knew, somewhere deep in her mind, that the man used the terms affectionately. They were tender off his tongue, and instead of being offended, Elly clung to them with pride. As though they were expectations she should be living up to.
Finally, the large man separated himself from her, and she looked up into his dark eyes. She could feel it then, like a creeping jolt of electricity up her spine. There was lust in his eyes—the slight parting of his lips, the way he had disengaged from the hug but hadn't quite let go of her. She knew they were going to kiss before he even made his move, and she let him.
Elly was far beyond understanding what her life was. These past few months had been such an insane rollercoaster of emotions and experiences that she couldn't even tell whether to be upset or overjoyed. All she knew in that moment was that Maurice's lips were the softest, most reassuring thing she'd felt amidst the turmoil. She melted into him, willing herself to forget about Devon, about her husband, the baby, and her children. She passed her tongue through his lips and deepened the kiss, letting Maurice know that she needed more.
Surprisingly, he cut her short. It wasn't abrupt, but feeling his lips pull away from hers made Elly feel as though she were being abandoned once again. Maurice pressed an incredibly large finger to her lips to shush her imminent protests. “This keeps on, and’ you ain't going to have a home to get back o. Shuffle on, woman, but be back here tomorrow. I reckon Dev ain't done with yo' ass jus’ yet, and’ I'ma want my piece of you when he's done. Ya hear?”
She picked up the hint of reluctance in his voice as he spoke, and she nodded, trying not to come across any more desperate than she already had. “I'll be by tomorrow. Thanks for this, Maurice. It really meant a lot. I hope you're right... about Devon, I mean.”
He smiled warmly. “I know my boy; jus’ cause he's lookin’ for a new bitch don't mean he's done witchu. He's jus’ like his ol’ man that way.”
Elly saw a chance for some light flirting and decided to take it, not wanting to leave her end of their talk on a sour note: “Hopefully that isn't the only thing he got from his old man.” She was careful to lace her words with anticipation, and Maurice didn't miss a beat.
“Naw girl, if anythin’ this ol’ dog still got him beat, jus wa wait n’ see.” And with that, Elly left the Watson residence for her own house. As she suspected, the lights were all out. Disabling the alarm, she quietly stepped through the entrance and threw her coat into the closet. Her crotch had grown uncomfortable with all the cum that had soaked through her thong and into her pants, so her first stop was the upstairs washroom.
Tip-toeing her way up the stairs, Elly congratulated herself on another successful night of cheating on her husband. She'd long stopped feeling bad about it; even before Devon came into her life, Elly had entertained the idea of going behind Dave's back. She'd fought for years to gain even a sliver of the man's affections, but he'd seemed to have forgotten about the passion they'd once shared.
If Dave refused to give her what she needed, then why shouldn't she get it elsewhere? And it wasn't like he'd ever been particularly good in the first place. Especially now that she hag Devon to compare him to. It wasn't that Elly disliked her husband; he was kind, compassionate, and a good father. Their children had never wanted for anything, nor had they lacked affection or care. All things considered, Elly was incredibly proud of the ****** she'd built.
“If only he were Devon...” but she banished the thought. Devon would never be the kind of man to raise her children, not because he couldn't; he definitely could if he'd wanted to. But she knew he didn't, and that was the problem. If she could keep her relationship with Devon and have Dave raise the children that came of it, that would be the ideal situation. But how could she get Dave to accept that path?
Elly passed her son's room, so wrapped up in thought that she nearly, very nearly, missed the soft electric whirring that emanated from beyond his door. She had almost continued on to the washroom, thinking it'd been her imagination, but leaning a bit closer to the door brought the sound into sharper focus. It was the definite oscillating hum of an electric motor. It is almost like a slowly reciprocating device. It reminded her of the small breast pump she'd used when Miranda had been born.
Curiosity got the better of her, and she silently pressed an ear to his door. Her eyebrows drew together as the sounds she picked up confused her further. There was a wet sort of... squelching? And soft, feminine muttering. “What the fuck is he doing in there? Does he have a girl over?!” An indignant rage overtook Elly for a brief moment as she considered how he could have possibly thought he could get away with that. Deciding to brave the consequences, whatever they may be, Elly cracked his door open and peered in.
As it turned out, Daniel was alone. Which confused Elly as her mind struggled to comprehend what she was seeing. There, on the bed, was her son. Or, at least, she thought it was Daniel. They were dressed in what had to be some of the sluttiest clothing Elly had ever seen in person. The shortest miniskirt possible, fishnet stockings, knee-high socks, a long blond wig, and a bra holding almost nothing.
They were on their hands and knees, facing away from her, the room softly lit by the glow of a laptop screen in front of them. They were watching some kind of pornography, or maybe recording? Elly couldn't tell. Her eyes were locked onto the machine resting on the bed behind them, obviously the source of the electric whirring she'd heard. She watched on in stark amazement as the machine pushed, and then pulled, one of the largest Black dildos she'd ever seen, in and out of their asshole.
A moan slid out from the person's mouth, and Elly knew instantly that it was, in fact, Daniel. But the contrast between the boy she knew and the degenerate slut she saw on the bed was dismantling her mind. When had he gotten all of this stuff? Did that mean he was gay? Was he trans? A crossdresser? How long had he been doing this? Did his sister know? Did Dave know?
Elly gaped at the scene playing out before her, noting absently that there seemed to be some kind of device around his penis. A cage of some sort. And then her son reached for something—a bottle of some kind—lube, maybe? Elly was still so out of it that she didn't process what was happening until it had already happened.
Daniel had turned to re-lubricate the massive black cock pummeling his ass when his eyes landed squarely on hers. There was an incredibly tense moment where neither of them so much as flinched, obviously not sure what to do or say. Elly’s mind was screaming for her to shut the door, but she just stared dumbly into the room, into her son's widening eyes.
Finally, with a jolt of reality, Elly slowly stepped back and shut the door with a soft click. There were no shouts or rushed movements trying to cover up what was happening. Everything returned to the way it had been before she opened the door, the soft electric whirring continuing on the other side. Numbly, Elly turned to the washroom and stiffly made her way inside.
What was she going to do? The information she'd just been forced to take in was so overwhelming that she didn't even know where to start. Did she confront him? Pretend she hadn't seen anything? She'd obviously been snooping, so did she even have any right to bring it up? Elly didn't realize that she'd stepped into the shower with her pants on.
If she did confront him, what would she even say? He was an adult and could make his own choices. It's not really like she had much of a moral leg to stand on when it came to her sexual proclivities. Finally, noticing her pants were entirely soaked, she swore softly and began to strip them off. A task made infinitely more difficult with how they were now plastered to her slender, well-toned legs.
Elly was fit for 38. She kept a stringent exercise routine and monitored her diet closely. Having two children had threatened to balloon her weight, and now that her metabolism was virtually nonexistent, she needed to maintain a razor focus in order to keep her figure. At just under 5'9", she clocked in at a healthy 142 lbs. Mostly lean muscle, but with some definite cushioning where it mattered.
She'd undergone breast implant surgery when she was 34 as a gift from Dave. The surgeon, Dr. Arnold Bowman, had been blessed by Hephaestus, based on the way he'd sculpted her chest. The swell of her 34DD breasts was natural, but their perk and bounce were anything but. She always took a brief moment in the mirror to admire how they sat—gorgeously rounded and perfectly proportioned for her body.
The slight ripple of her abs was a constant reminder of the work and dedication she put into her physical appearance. Elly frowned as she peeled the second leg of her pants from her body. Not that the routine had attracted any attention from Dave. Lousy bum. She wrung out her pants as best she could before plopping them into the hamper outside the shower. A problem for future Elly, no doubt.
Daniel's moan floated across her mind, and she drifted back into her thoughts, swiping a hand across her smooth slit and noting, with amusement, the substantial amount of cum it came away coated in. God, Devon came so much, as though he had a bottomless prostate. The image of Daniel bent over on his bed, getting plowed by the comically large cock, played across her vision.
Elly bit her lip. At the end of the day, Elly loved her children; she wanted them to be happy. If that meant wading into the sticky mess of what her son got up to in that room, then she would just have to do it. The last thing she wanted, as hypocritical as it was, was for them to keep secrets from her.
Daniel's room was silent when she passed by again. The electric whir that had caught her attention had vanished, and she suspected her son was in the middle of a quiet breakdown. Thoughts much like hers would be running through his head as sleep refused to take him. She considered knocking, putting an end to the rampant speculation he must have been enduring, but ultimately decided that it was too soon. They both needed time to come up with words to explain their feelings.
Her shared room with Dave was not as silent. His loud snoring had been a constant companion since they'd started living together. They had both tried almost every solution available to the market to help settle his god awful sawing, but he could never stick with one long enough for it to make a difference. He would invariably forget to use it or buy more, and then that would be it. Back to the deafening roar of his nose and throat.
It was only recently that Elly had come to like that part of Dave. She could come and go from the bedroom as she pleased, using his terrible rumble as a cover for her movements. Their king-sized, four-post bed left her with ample space to move about without so much as jostling her husband. She dropped the towel that had been wrapped around her torso and slid into the silken sheets.
She was extremely grateful that she'd had her body lasered. Eliminating the need to shave had made her life infinitely better on every level, and she swore she would never take for granted the feeling of bare skin against silk sheets again. Dave moaned and snorted before rolling away from her, smacking his lips loudly before muttering something in his sleep.
The guilt crept back into her heart for a moment as the memories of their time together crammed into a small one-bedroom apartment flooded back to her. They had been young and dumb, happy and indomitable. She had worked two jobs, and he had poured every waking moment into his schooling. Things were tight, but they'd made it work, and they'd had fun doing it. They were bright, nostalgic days.
But that was then, and this was now. Elly had grown, Dave had grown, and it was just an unfortunate thing that they had grown apart the way they had. She thought about scooting across the mattress to press herself up against his back, curling an arm around him, and holding him like she had all those years ago. But the sound of her hips slapping against Devon's stopped her. She turned over, away from her husband, and tried to sleep.
-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-
The Geltan house was early to rise during the week. Dave was up and out of the house before Elly even awoke most mornings. It was a rare thing for her to beat him to the coffee maker, and today had been no different. A small note sat next to the brewer, penned in Dave's rushed but articulate hand. “Glad you came home. Had me worried. Have a great day. Love you.”
Elly crumpled the note and tossed it into the recycling. Closing in on 6 a.m., the kids would be waking up soon, and she wasn't particularly looking forward to facing Daniel. She had thought about what to say but ultimately decided to open with reassurance. “You can trust me; you can talk to me; I'll love you regardless.” Hopefully, it would be enough to put a hole in his emotional walls.
Miranda was up first, bouncing down the stairs as though life had rolled out a red carpet just for her. She'd inherited Elly's shockingly red hair, and it drifted across her shoulders in broad curls that Elly had always been slightly jealous of. Miranda had gotten more of her father's face, but she carried his narrow chin much better than he did.
The 18-year-old girl slid across the tiled floor in clean socks, ending up next to Elly at the coffee machine. “Hey mom!” It was just a little too bright and a little too eager. It set Elly's hackles to rise, and she directed an upturned eyebrow at her ********.
"Well, someone's excited about something. Couldn't be school... couldn't be the part-time job, and I know for a fact that the cheer team has been running you through drills non-stop. so that leaves... a boy?” Elly was rewarded with the shocked look of someone watching Sherlock Holmes unveil the plot of the show.
“There's no way you guessed that! Nooooooo way! How'd you know? Are you wire-tapping me?!” Her ********'s accusation was fair, though—maybe not for the reasons she would have guessed. Elly decided to play this one closer to the truth than would be believable.
“No! Of course not! I just sold your contact information to the highest bidder. Have fun in Albania working the fields as a mail-order bride!”
Miranda rolled her eyes and resumed plucking a mug from the cabinet. “No, seriously, what gave it away? If *** finds out, I'm pretty sure he's going to lock me away in my room like Rapunzel.”
Elly appreciated the relationship she had with her ********. They'd bonded a lot more than she had with Daniel, and as a result, there was an uncanny sense of mutual trust between them. Miranda had never held anything back from Elly, always coming to her about every minor struggle. Or, at least, Elly hoped that was the case; after last night, she wasn't sure she could take that as fact.
“Sweetie, I was eighteen once. I can tell you the only thing that would have me bouncing down the stairs like that at six in the morning was a cute boy. Ok, maybe Christmas, too. but it's the middle of June, so...”
Miranda blushed slightly as she dispensed some hot coffee into the mug she'd chosen. Small pastel animals are printed across its side. “It's Devon... from down the street. You know, the Watson's boy? He got my number somehow, and I guess he wants to take me out. I can understand why he wouldn't come tell me directly; after Daddy... well, after the "incident,” I don't think I'd want to come here either if I were him.”
And there it was. The fruits of Elly's betrayal. She'd served up her ******** to that hungry beast of a man on a silver platter, and she was all too eager to ride it straight to his table. Elly had no doubt that, by the end of the day, her darling ******** would no longer be a virgin. She felt the compulsion to apologize to Miranda come and go, the words dying in her throat before they could ever materialize. Instead, she forced a shocked look into her eyes and pressed for information.
“You said yes? Did he say where he was taking you?”
Miranda wobbled her head, wincing slightly. “He's hot! And the few times I've bumped into him outside his house, he's been really nice to me. I thought I'd give him a shot, you know? He didn't say, just said "out,” so... the mall? Maybe?”
Elly frowned, making sure to give it a motherly tone. Her disapproval was meant to be for the safety and well-being of her ********, not for the feeling of jealousy pulsing through her temples. Little Bastard never took her "out." She only ever got to see him while being pressed into his mattress.
“Well, when you find out, I want you to tell me where and when. I expect you to be home by eleven at the latest. I know it's all new and shiny, but it's a school night, and I don't need you two showing up at my door escorted by a cop!” Elly knew she wasn't going to see her ******** by 11. Devon probably wouldn't let Miranda go until early in the morning. She just hoped he didn't hurt her ******** too badly when he finally decided to push things.
“And if he starts getting handsy, you remind him that your mama is a black belt!”
This got Miranda to chuckle, and she settled at the kitchen table to nurse her coffee. “Yeah, ok, the only black belt you've ever worn is a seatbelt. Mom, don't worry! I'm a big girl. No means no; I know that.”
Elly just needed one more push to make her concern seem legitimate, and then she would drop it. She settled at the table with her ******** and did her best to seem bashful. “I know, sweetie. I trust you. But, you know, boys these days can just be so pushy, you know? I'm just worried about you. Be safe, ok? Oh! But if things do take a turn, you make damn sure he wraps it up, you hear me?! I'm not ready to be a grandma!”
Miranda's face turned crimson as she spluttered into her coffee. “MOM! STOP! PLEASE! OH MY GOD!”.
Daniel picked that moment to round the corner into the kitchen. Elly did her best to make her greeting to him as normal and casual as she could, but there was no hiding the “deer-in-the-headlights” look he had as they locked eyes. Thankfully, Miranda was busy recovering from her comment and didn't seem to notice the awkwardness.
Miranda, seemingly grasping at any chance to bail on the conversation, scooped up her coffee and excused herself to start getting ready for school. Daniel quietly pulled his own cup from the cupboard, and Elly studied his back. She couldn't quite get the image of him bent over on his bed out of her mind when she looked at him like that.
“Dan, can I... can we talk? About last night?” Elly could see his shoulders stiffen, and the grip on his mug tightened ever-so-slightly. He was trembling, clearly scared out of his mind. “Oh, Daniel! No, no, sweety, it's ok. Oh, honey, it's ok!” Elly slid from her chair and threw her arms around him from behind. She shushed him as he silently started sobbing. "Oh, Daniel, you're okay! It's ok! I promise, everything is fine, sweetie. I'm not mad; I'm not upset at all; everything's alright!”
She could feel her son crumple into the counter. The weight of the previous night's worry was flooding out of him like a broken dam. He spun in her arms and buried himself in her chest, shaking and crying as the relief caused him to unclench muscles he probably didn't even know he had. They stood like that for several minutes, him sobbing and her stroking his hair while quietly reassuring him that everything would be ok.
Eventually, Elly asked if he was okay enough to take a seat and have some coffee. He nodded and wiped his tears on her housecoat one last time before shuffling to the table. She gave him a few more minutes to settle and dry his eyes before she started in on her pseudo-interrogation.
“So, before we get into it, I want you to know that I love you; that's unconditional. Full stop. I don't care how things shake out; come what may, I will always love you. I may not understand what that was. But I don't need to in order to love you. Is that clear?”
Daniel nodded, struggling to meet her eyes but not actively avoiding them either. That was good, but it also didn't look like he would be volunteering much information unless she pulled it out of him.
“Ok… so… I guess I should start with the obvious one. Are you still Daniel? Like, are you my son? Or do I have another ******** now?” Elly dove in feet first, using the foundation of unconditional love to springboard into, hopefully, what would be the biggest bombshell of their talk.
To his credit, Daniel looked like a freshly caught fish thrown into the center of the death valley. Elly wasn't sure it would be physically possible for someone to look as utterly uncomfortable as he did in that moment, and she knew that she'd hit the nail on the head straight out of the gate. Hesitantly, he stuttered to a start, “I... well, I guess I don't... I mean, I don't... know? I think?”
Elly stared back at him, waiting for more. When nothing came, she decided to take a more bull-headed approach: “Dan, your father didn't marry me for my wit or my brains; you were bent over getting buttfucked by a fat black dick while dressed like a club slut. I'm struggling to identify anything “straight” about that. You're going to have to help me out here. I can't jump into your head and take a look around, you know? You've obviously been doing... that... for a while, so if anyone would have a decent idea of what's going on with you, it would be you, right?”
Beyond Daniels' absolute horror at her description of the event, her words seemed to have the impact she wanted them to because, instead of a slowly cooking fish, he now looked like a blushing schoolgirl. He tried again, this time with a little more conviction: “I don't know... it's hard for me to describe, or even, like, think about? Some days I feel like I need to be the most feminine person on earth, you know? Some days I want to paint my nails and style my hair, wear cute clothes, flirt with hot guys, and take a bunch of cute selfies, but others... I don't know. Other days I just, like, feel like a dude. Does that make sense? Like, I want to be able to be both when I want to. You know?”
He looked like he was trying to explain it more to himself than to her, but Elly supposed she could understand that feeling somewhat. Some days she wanted to put a boot on Dave's face and tell him to lick the bottom of it; other days she wanted Devon to turn her inside out with his cock. It was give-and-take, push-and-pull. Some days it was more of one than the other; other days it was equal parts of both. Humanity existed on a spectrum in almost every aspect; why couldn't that be a sliding scale as well?
“I think I get that. Some days you're Danielle, others your Daniel. It seems pretty simple. So, with that in mind, I'm assuming last night was more of a Danielle thing? Are both sides of you into guys?” Elly wasn't too sure how to word what she was trying to ask, but Daniel picked up her intent and squirmed a little as he thought about his answer. Her answer?
“So, like, how much do you actually want to know? Because, like, this is going to take a while to get through. Like, it's actually a lot.” He looked up at her, his short, puffy hair partially obscuring his eyes, but the pleading in them told Elly everything that she needed to know. She needed to either be all in or all out. There would be no cherry-picking parts of this story. She looked at the clock over the stove and saw that it was almost 6:45. They weren't going to have time to dig into this without school interrupting.
“Tell you what, I'm going to make a call to your school and let them know that you've come down with a terrible stomach bug, super bad, liquid at both ends and all that, and then you and I are going to go get our nails done. I'll ask you some questions, and you can fill me in on what the deal is. Sound good?”
Daniel turned back into the sweating fish, an uncomprehending look plastered across his face as his expectations of what was going to happen that morning were utterly shredded. Then his face twisted up into a pained look of emotions forcing their way out of an incredibly small box. Her son had obviously been bottling up a lot these past few years, and finally having the ability to vent them into the atmosphere was physically taxing his system.
Elly mentally patted herself on the back for some A+ mothering. It felt good to be a rockstar every now and then, and helping her son come out of his shell, even just a little, was an accomplishment she felt proud of. But then a small pill of dread sprung to life in her guts as she realized that her time with Devon had made it all too easy to forget that her children were people, too. Something about that young man brought out an entirely inhuman side of her. Altogether too willing to abandon those same people in a desperate bid for pleasure and purpose.
She looked at her son, crying at the other end of the table, taking in his pained and relieved expression, and she realized that even in the throes of what should have been an intense and, frankly, incredibly raw moment, her mind had still turned to Devon. That was the moment that Elly came to grips with the fact that she had been broken. And with her ********'s introduction to Devon, it was only a matter of time before her ****** fell apart around her. The players were moving pieces, and she wasn't sure which she was. A player or a piece.
Ch. 02 When The Bow Breaks
Dave shuffled the same stack of paper for the third time and set it neatly back at the edge of his desk. A small magnetic dolphin spun lazily next to his nameplate as he glanced back up at the clock. God, it was only 9:30 a.m. The prospect of heading to the coffee room in half an hour did little to lessen the anxiety he had slowly been cultivating over the past 12 hours.
He hit the power button on his phone only to be greeted by Elly’s smiling face; there were no replies. “What the fuck is she doing? I texted her two hours ago!” The worry had settled neatly in his gut last night after all three of his calls had gone to voicemail. He'd known she'd be out with the girls, but her not answering like that seriously put him on edge. He'd tried waiting up for her, but he had to work and couldn't afford to be written up again for tardiness.
Then there were her pants, damp and carelessly tossed into the bathroom hamper, almost as though she had wanted him to find them. Why were they soaked? Had she spilled something on them? Was that what the crusty shit was on her thong? He gritted his teeth. He'd texted to see if they could call on his break, but now it was rapidly approaching and she hadn't responded.
Dave trusted his wife; he trusted her implicitly, and yet... What if she had stepped out of their marriage? He didn't think she was capable of it. But what if...? He mentally cursed himself and reached for the novelty stress ball shaped like a virus that sat on top of his coasters.
Dave knew he was letting his wife down. She'd made it clear that she expected more sex in the relationship and that she needed to feel desired and attractive, but Dave just couldn't deliver that for her. He'd been working with his doctor on ways to bring his testosterone levels back up to some kind of reasonable baseline, but like the doctor had told him, "you can't boost something that doesn't exist.”
So he'd started hormone treatment. Supplements designed to artificially introduce more testosterone to his system, meant to get him “back in the saddle,” as it were. But the process hadn't been easy or pleasant. Dave's body seemed to devour the testosterone—like some kind of black hole—and regardless of the dose prescribed, his levels continually came back pathetically low.
He couldn't tell his wife about it; he was far too embarrassed to admit something like that to his strong, confident, and self-assured wife. She'd definitely see him as less of a man, and then it wouldn't even be a question of her stepping out of the marriage; she might just dump his ass out on the porch altogether. Dave was having a hard enough time even talking about it with his doctor.
Dr. Biko was everything Dave wished he could be. He was tall, handsome, well-muscled, and heavily respected by his peers. The fact that he was black made Dave a bit nervous, but his position as a doctor meant that he was “one of the good ones.” Dave had made sure to let Dr. Biko know that, too, hoping he could form some comradery with the man.
It had seemed to work, too, since Dr. Biko had begun asking about his ******, where he lived, and what his job was. Dave was more than happy to open up about his life and had probably gotten a bit too smug when speaking about his wife. Dave couldn't blame Dr. Biko for being interested in her; she was an incredible woman in every regard.
When the doctor joked about “a white boi like Dave” not deserving her, they both laughed like good friends. Now, though, Dave struggled to meet the man's eyes when he went in for his checkups, all too aware of the staggering difference between them. It didn't help that the good-natured joking between them had taken on an air of mockery, and Dave typically ended up leaving his appointments feeling as though he were less of a man.
He didn't know what to do. His wife wasn't sharing her life with him, his medication wasn't working, and neither of his children looked at him as anything other than a piggy bank these days. Just the other week, Miranda had asked him for almost two grand to cover an insane shopping trip she'd taken her friends on. After transferring the money, he could have sworn she'd smirked and then called him a loser under her breath.
It was all too much. Something needed to change, and change in a hurry, or Dave felt like he was going to be left behind by his ******. Maybe a ****** vacation? Would the Caribbean help to heal those wounds? Dr. Biko’s dark face played across his mind, and he mentally corrected himself. Maybe… France? Ireland was supposed to be quite beautiful.
The buzzer on his phone dinged, and his assistant chirped across the speaker, “Mr. Geltan, your nine forty-five appointment is here. Should I let him in?”
Dave almost hurled the stress ball across the room in his shock. He took a moment to wrangle his breathing and then punched the button to respond. “Send him in, Liv.” Working in upper management at a pharmaceutical company had its perks, but entertaining the shareholders had to be one of the most soul-draining aspects of his day. With a sigh, Dave replaced the novelty stress ball, straightened his tie, and did his best not to think about the fact that his wife very obviously didn't want to talk to him.
-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-
Elly and Daniel had an incredibly pleasant morning out together. They'd gotten Starbucks, hit the nail salon, gossiped, and then settled in a little little lunch bar for a small meal. The day was gorgeous, and the patio afforded them the much-needed fresh air they'd both craved.
Daniel, for his part, had done his best to explain his unique situation. Elly had earnestly listened and asked questions where she could, but ultimately felt a bit overwhelmed by the explanations. She knew she was going to struggle to remember half of what her son told her, and so she had decided to simply put on her mom's pants and listen without judgment. If she fumbled in the future, she would just ask to be forgiven; she knew she would be.
It had started young for her son. He was younger than even he could remember clearly. The only thing he could say for sure was that he knew he was different; by 8 or 9, he was wishing he could grow breasts. By 13, he was imagining himself as more feminine than his body presented. And now, at 18, he knew that he wanted a bit of both.
It was something he had called “gender fluid,” slipping like water between the two states of existence depending on how they felt. She'd asked if that meant she would need to be careful about his pronouns, and he had laughed. Being her son didn't bother him, and having her refer to him as a man also didn't bother him since he was sometimes a man. He'd reassured her that she wouldn't need to worry about hurting his feelings.
Elly felt much better about the situation and their relationship by the time Daniel had worked through his explanation. But they had both very politely danced around the elephant in the room, and after sipping a particularly tangy daiquiri, Elly decided to let the small fire of alcohol burning in her stomach lead the way.
“So... that machine... I assume that was also a part of being gender fluid.” Elly hadn't meant it to come out snide, but the daiquiri had somehow turned into three, and she was feeling a little more brazen than was probably socially acceptable.
Daniel's ears turned bright pink as he blushed furiously. Despite this, it seemed like he'd at least thought about his answer, which Elly appreciated; she hated beating around the bush. “So... there's this... kink.” It was a muted response; Daniel’s eyes darted about as though willing the other patrons to lose their hearing. Elly knew they didn't care; the people around them were all tacitly accepting the social etiquette of tuning out the world around them.
“And... before I start, I need you to know that I'm not racist! Ok? I'm not! You have to believe that!” Elly wasn't sure how to feel about that statement. Typically, when anyone started an explanation that way, whatever it was they said next ended up being incredibly racist. She gave him the benefit of the doubt and nodded.
“It's called the BNWO; it stands for Black New World Order. Basically, it's a sexual fantasy about the black race claiming superiority over all the others and dominating them.”. Suddenly, Devon’s devilish grin was front and center in Elly's mind, and a sobering chill crept up her spine. “Essentially, whites, like you and me, submit ourselves sexually and, in other ways, to black men and women. It's ultimately about white inferiority and using that as a sexual fetish.”
Elly sat in stunned silence at her son's admission. Forget racist; everything he'd just said sounded incredibly fucking hot! She'd already been submitting herself to Devon pretty much every night, and it sounded a lot like Maurice was going to be balls deep inside her later that day as well. If that didn't sound like submitting herself to the black race, then she didn't know what did.
“Ok, alright, I think I can understand that. You get off on being... what? Weak? Submissive?” Elly levied a guess at the source of pleasure for the kink. What made her son so dedicated to the fetish?
Daniel was quick with the response to that inquiry, seeming to gain confidence with Elly's receptive posturing. “It's a little more complex than that, but yeah. The thought of being made to revel in my inferiority by a strong, dominant, virile black man does things to my mind that I can't even explain.”
A couple walking past swiveled their heads to cast a questioning look at him. Daniel ducked his head, attempting to ignore their stares as he smiled apologetically at Elly. “So, I've got a slut for a son. I don't suppose I'm going to be expecting any grandchildren, then. It seems like a bit of a pipe dream if you want to spend your free time having your ass resized by hung black men. Do you have a boyfriend? Do you want a boyfriend?”
Daniel blushed again, but he didn't deny the accusations. “I do want a boyfriend, I guess. But for obvious reasons, he'd... well, I'd hope to have a black boyfriend, I guess.” He quickly stumbled on to add, “Ah! But I wouldn't be opposed to a girlfriend, or maybe a master? Mistress? I just know that I'd want my partner to be dominant with me. Take control and lead me. So if I got a girlfriend, she would need to want to own me, I think.”
Elly shot back the rest of her daiquiri and stood, suddenly feeling motivated to take a more active role in her son's life. “Get up, ya slut! We're going shopping, and we ain't stoppin’ till every man within 50 miles can't help but turn their head!”
Bewildered, Daniel stood and smiled awkwardly. “Uh, Mom, don't you think maybe we should head home? You've had a bunch to drink, you know? Shouldn't we-”
But Elly cut him off with a bark of laughter: “Hell no! You want a woman to take charge? Well, buckle up, buckaroo! Mama’s going to turn her little sissy son into a stud-slaying slut; mark my words, you'll be throwing it back on some real meat before the week is out, I swear it!”
Daniel had gone from a giddy sort of nervous to mildly terrified at his mother's bold proclamation. Elly could see the cogs turning in his skull, and the boy was reconsidering whether sharing that information had been a wise choice. He was wondering to what extent this little adventure would impact his future.
But above all of that, Elly couldn't help but notice the bulge of excitement that had been straining the front of Daniel's pants for a while now. He'd chosen not to wear that cage device from the previous night, and now he sheepishly tried to hide his-admittedly small-erection from prying eyes. But Elly saw it. And Elly recognized that she could use it.
Unwittingly, Elly had just stumbled across her first true pawn in this amorphous game of chess. And if she didn't make the effort to capitalize on it, she would forever regret letting go of such an opportunity. All she needed to do was position herself in the role of Daniel's dominant, place herself above him on the social ladder, and ensure that both his loyalty and dedication belonged exclusively to her.
Accomplishing that would provide her with a permanent tool with which she could expand her control, entice other men, fish for options, and network with her partners. Hell, she could pimp Daniel out to any Tom or Dick that needed some relief, and he would probably thank her for it. Good, this was good. Miranda was a lost cause to her; Devon would have his hooks in her by now, and later that night she might not even be the only one carrying his child.
But Daniel... Daniel, she could make hers and hers alone. Making up her mind, she took her son's hand and stormed off to the next boutique she needed to hit. She would make this situation work to get an advantage, or she would die trying. Devon's words came back to her then: “sluts like you pump out sluts.” She looked back into the excited eyes of her son, and she grinned at just how true those words had been.
-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-
Dave had come home to an empty house—not even a note left on the table—no text, no phone call. He'd shouted out when he'd stepped into the front hall, expecting at least Miranda to poke her head out of her room, but it was silent. His temples throbbed as he sat at the kitchen table, entirely at a loss as to what could have happened to his ******. It wasn't uncommon for his kids to go days at a time without speaking to him, but his wife?
He looked over to the liquor cabinet and made a snap decision. If he was going to spend the night alone, then to hell with them, he'd do it ***** and not give a fuck! He was some kind of third wheel to whatever they had going on, so to hell with them! The first glass of bourbon was rough and smokey, harsh on his tongue, and left him feeling bitter and alone. The second went down much easier.
By the fourth, Dave had pulled most of their picture albums from the shelves in the living room and silently flipped through the accumulated memories of his ******'s growth. Miranda's 3rd birthday, Daniel’s junior softball championship, and their vacation to Mont Loc. He didn't weep; he couldn't quite bring himself to cry, but he did mope. I struggled to understand when things had gone so wrong when they'd all grown so far apart. Was it his fault? He'd never thought he was an absent father, but perhaps he wasn't doing enough.
With the kind of clarity only a substantial amount of alcohol could bring, Dave swore that he would push himself to be a better father and husband. He would pounce on Elly the moment she came home, showering her with the love he knew she needed. He would pester Daniel about what games he was playing so late at night. And he would spoil Miranda without feeling slighted. He owed it to his ****** to be a better man.
The sixth drink had Dave slumped over the kitchen table, barely coherent enough to admire the sparkle of his crystal tumbler. He tried to check the time on the stove clock, but the numbers swam around the room anytime he looked at them. The front door chime sounded, and Dave heard the shuffling of feet. How did he pronounce his wife's name? He tried to say it but didn't recognize the sound that came out of his mouth.
“Dave?! Jesus, Dave, what the fuck? Are you *****?!” That was his wife, for sure; he could tell by the disappointment in her tone. She sounded like that after he forgot to put their bins out by the curb.
“I'm going to go get washed up, mom. I've got so many loads in my hair that I don't think it'll ever wash out. Is he going to be ok? Do you need a hand?” That was… Daniel? Huh? Were they out together? Is that why she hadn't texted him back?
“Ugh… I know, I'm going to be leaking all night. I never thought they'd invite another four fucking guys. Sorry, sweetie. I know it was your first time, but we kind of jumped in feet first. It'll be fine; I'll just dump him on the couch or something. I'll join you for that shower right after. Lord knows I'll need all the help I can get trying to get the cum out of my hair.” Dave tried to say her name again, but it came out as an elongated moan.
“Jesus, Dave. Of all the fucking irresponsible decisions... C'mon you dumbass, get up! Christ, you're heavy. Use your legs, Dave, come on.” Elly was moving him, or trying to. He couldn't quite feel her arms around him, but he caught her scent. She reeked of weed and sweat. A wash of masculine cologne rolled over Dave's nose, and he felt the bile in his stomach do a little flip.
“Well, you sure picked a good fucking night for this shit. Come on, we're almost there. I'll get you a damn bucket, so just hold on.”
It wasn't that Elly threw him; it was more or less that she let him fall onto the couch. Dave wiggled his arms in her general direction and tried his best to express his love for her. “Milieesss, I luvvvuuoooahhh." It'd been his best attempt yet, but the mildly disgusted look on Elly's face told him she hadn't understood it. Damn.
“Ugh… Listen, Dave, I love you, but this is fucking pathetic, ok? This self-destructive bullshit is weak and repulsive. Be a fucking man and get your shit together. Maybe then I wouldn't need to... ah, whatever.” She turned and strode back into the kitchen without finishing her thought.
Dave tried to hold onto the sentence despite his tenuous grasp on short-term memories. She wouldn't have to. What? Why did she smell that way? Where did that come from? Why was Daniel with her? Men? Elly returned with the bucket, and Dave focused on every last brain cell he could muster.
“Whures-*urp*- wereas Mirnada?” Elly had to have understood that one.
She knelt to be at eye level with Dave, her expression softening into something like pity or sadness. “She'll be home later; she's not going to be done with them for a while, and Daniel couldn't keep up, so we had to come back. Though, based on the shape you're in, I'm half tempted to just go back. Don't worry about my ********, Dave; she's in better hands.”
And with that, she stood and headed for the stairs. Dave's eyebrows knit together as his addled mind struggled to remember what he'd asked to get an answer like that. Something had been smeared across Elly's face that he couldn't identify; it coated her hair as well. She almost looked like a water painting, but everything was blurry and shifted around the room as Dave's eyes refused to focus on any one thing.
Why was he on the couch? Had the kitchen lights always been that dim?
-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-
Elly stepped into the shower and immediately moaned as the hot water hit her skin. Despite what she'd said to Dave, there was no way she could go back to Maurice's house. Her body was beyond spent. “Here, sweety, turn this way. I'll get that part.”
She spun Daniel to face away from her and drizzled the back of his head with shampoo. The evening hadn't gone at all the way she thought it would, and that made her feel a bit bad for her son. The boy had been put through the wringer by six different black men over four hours. If only she still had the energy to bounce back from something like that.
“Sorry for leaving your key here; I know it wasn't easy with your cage the whole time. You did well hiding the discomfort.” She scrubbed her fingers through her son's hair, and the sensation made him moan with equal parts relief and pleasure.
“It's for the best; white bois shouldn't be getting hard under any circumstances, let alone when being used by a superior king. It would've just been disrespectful and embarrassing. I still can't believe I managed to take two of them inside me at once. Did you even see their cocks?! I should be dead!”
Elly chucked and shoved his head under the water. "Honestly, I'm more impressed you managed to cum like that. Thank god we put that condom on under your cage. Could you imagine if you'd squirted on one of them? We'd both be in the ICU right now.”
Daniel laughed as he ran the luffa across his hairless body. “I still think that's a bit unfair; you were squirting like a fuckin' fountain the entire time, and they didn't even blink! Ok, my turn, spin around!”
Daniel's cage clinked cutely as he turned to start washing all the cum out of Elly's hair. The whole ridiculous situation had come about as a result of Elly finally coming clean to Daniel about her affair with Devon. Her son hadn't so much as blinked at the confession. He had stunned Elly when he begged her to ask Devon if he could join them.
Elly was hesitant at first, not knowing how Devon would react to the proposal, but to her surprise, not only had he enthusiastically agreed to have Daniel involved, but Elly suspected her son had ended up being used more than either her or Miranda. “I wonder how Miranda is holding up; it's her first time, and they're running a train on her right now.”
She heard Daniel snort and half turned to ask what was so funny. “Mom, sis lost her virginity to my machine months and months ago. Hell, there was a stretch where I didn't think she would ever give it back. I wouldn't be surprised if some of those men tap out before she does.”
Ah, so other things were going on in this house that escaped Elly's oversight. She shook her head ruefully and chuckled. “You two are making me feel older and older by the moment! It's no wonder Devon got bored with me; I just can't keep up anymore.” Daniel's fingers felt good massaging her skull, and she allowed herself to drift back into her recollections of the evening.
Daniel and she had bonded heavily over their shared interest in the BNWO. They'd spent all afternoon running a crash course on white servitude and her role in the BNWO as a mature, white slut. Neither of them could handle the eroticism of the lessons and had inevitably come home to spend some quality time with Daniel's machine.
Elly silently marveled at how comfortable the transition had been between herself and her son. While there'd been some early trepidation, all of what had happened between them ultimately felt natural, like they were finally slotting neatly into roles they had meant to be in from the start. As she stood there, back to her son, she felt no sexual tension, no embarrassment, no shame.
She had put that down to not seeing her son as a man. Or anything even remotely capable of being a sexual interest to her, not just because he was her son but because he was white. The BNWO had added a broader perspective to her outlook on men, on her position, and on her son's position relative to her. The only intrinsic sexual value the boy had was as a whore for the black race. Her son knew it, too, and so their showering together was nothing but platonic.
The thought brought Dave to mind, and she grimaced internally. Things had changed now that she and Daniel had officially been “blacked.”. Miranda had practically thrown herself at the men mere moments after passing through the door to their household. Elly wondered what exactly it was that Devon had done to motivate her ******** like that, but deep down she knew it was just in their nature as the subservient race. Miranda had been unable to resist their charms and sexual superiority any more than Elly had.
Yes, things had changed, and there was no longer any going back for any of them. She knew that if she wasn't able to play her cards right with Dave, a nasty divorce would be the most likely outcome. Losing a significant source of financial and parenting support for her and her future black children wasn't something she could allow. Miranda would likely end up finishing high school pregnant, if not a mother, which only added to the importance of keeping Dave around.
She couldn't hold the children over his head; they were adults and would be able to make their own decisions on where they went in the divorce. She couldn't use money to leverage him since he was currently paying for everything. Sex might have been an option, but the thought of sleeping with Dave physically repulsed Elly in a way she couldn't adequately articulate.
There had to be something. Something she could use as a leash to keep the man bound to their ****** as a caregiver and wallet. The photo albums strewn across the floor of the living room came to mind—the haphazard mess caused by a ***** man's sorrow—and all at once she knew what needed to happen. It wasn't a sure bet, and if it failed, they'd be forced to rope in another poor sucker to become their new nanny, but she had to try it.
-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-
Dave awoke with a groan. His head felt like it was coming apart at the seams, and when he brought a hand up to cover his eyes, he ended up groaning again from the movement. Everything hurt, and his stomach felt like it was at open war with him. He fought to keep the bile down and slowly peeled open one eye.
The bright morning light coming through the living room window blinded him, and he tried to turn away from it, only to find the back of the couch preventing him from escaping. “Wha-urk-” Dave rolled to the side and threw up into the bucket next to the couch.
Water. He needed lots of it. Wiping his mouth with the back of his hand, he looked to the coffee table and found a glass with a note tucked under it. Sighing in relief, he grabbed the glass and chugged it down all at once. It wasn't enough, but hopefully it would help to settle whatever was happening to his stomach.
He picked up the note and flipped it open; he recognized Elly's neat, feminine handwriting.
“Dave, I don't know what to say; it was bad enough for you to get ***** during the week like that, but to assault our ********? I don't know who you are anymore. I'm devastated and confused. I'd thought you still held some love for this ******, but I guess that's gone now, too. I've taken the kids, and we'll be staying with a friend for a few days to think things over. I haven't told the police; Miranda didn't want that. She swears you didn't mean to do it, but I think she just loves you too much. Don't come looking for us, ok?”
The note slipped from Dave's hand as he finished reading it. There was no way. He could never, ever do something like that! Not in a million years, not in a billion. He could feel the panic attack start to set in. He brought his hands together in front of himself, trying to keep them from shaking, and then he noticed the bruises. A light, gentle shift on his skin. From pale off-pink to a sickly yellow, it circled his wrist as though he'd been grabbed.
Then again, a similar ring around his other wrist, and scratches, too. Trailing up his forearm as though someone had struggled to fight him off. The bottom fell out of his gut, and he scrambled to take his shirt off. More bruises fell across his chest, followed by more scratches. His pants were undone, the belt flopping uselessly against his thigh as he shot to his feet. No, no! This was wrong. He couldn't have done that.
He fought to remember. He struggled to link up his current memories with the ones just before he'd started flipping through photo albums. But there was nothing. A dark void was all he had of the previous night, where his existence had given way to sorrow, regret, and loneliness. Dave collapsed back to the couch. Was it possible? Had he been so far gone that he'd attacked his ********? Surely not, but...
Doubt crept into the back of Dave's skull like a deadly predator; it stalked between his brain cells, looking to devour his hope wherever it cropped up. Should he turn himself in? No, he couldn't just abandon his ****** like that; he was the breadwinner, and he knew Elly would struggle to meet the needs of their children.
His mind looped, always returning to the thought that harming his ******** had been impossible for him, and yet the marks on his arms and chest were entirely real. Dave wobbled to his feet, scanning the kitchen for his phone. He needed to call Elly and explain that he couldn't have done anything to their ******** and that it was some horrible misunderstanding.
He located the phone on the kitchen counter. Thumbing the power button, he was once again greeted by the smiling face of his wife. It hurt to look at it. He'd missed a call from work, likely from his secretary, asking if he'd be in at some point. But there were two unread texts from Elly, sent earlier that morning. He opened his messages with her.
There, under a single line of text, was a picture of his ********. Mascara streaked, eyes red, and cheeks flushed. Around her neck were the same sickly-yellow marks of having been grabbed. Definite imprints of fingers could be made out where the skin had gotten angry and red. The line of text read, “How could you? She was only trying to help you.”
Dave broke, then. Right there in his kitchen, surrounded by the familiar trappings of a well-lived-in house, Memories of happier days and important events lined the walls as though to mock what his life had become. Dave screamed in the sort of way only a man who'd lost what was most dear to him could. And then he cried because there was nothing else his mind could understand how to do.
He lost himself in a spiral of guilt and regret. Bargaining with the universe at large to undo whatever it was that he had done. Begging and pleading for things to be made right. He would offer up anything—his life, his job, his very soul—if it meant having another chance to make things right with his ******. He didn't care how bad things were for him; he didn't care if Elly never even looked him in the eye again; he would grin and bear it if it meant they would come home.
Dave should have been careful with what he wished for. If he had known what the universe had in store for him, he'd have fled from the house, abandoned his job, and run screaming across the border to begin a new life in another country. But Dave didn't know. All Dave knew was that it hurt too much to imagine a life without his beautiful wife and amazing children. And in that moment, he'd have walked through the gates of hell to get them back.
He hit the power button on his phone only to be greeted by Elly’s smiling face; there were no replies. “What the fuck is she doing? I texted her two hours ago!” The worry had settled neatly in his gut last night after all three of his calls had gone to voicemail. He'd known she'd be out with the girls, but her not answering like that seriously put him on edge. He'd tried waiting up for her, but he had to work and couldn't afford to be written up again for tardiness.
Then there were her pants, damp and carelessly tossed into the bathroom hamper, almost as though she had wanted him to find them. Why were they soaked? Had she spilled something on them? Was that what the crusty shit was on her thong? He gritted his teeth. He'd texted to see if they could call on his break, but now it was rapidly approaching and she hadn't responded.
Dave trusted his wife; he trusted her implicitly, and yet... What if she had stepped out of their marriage? He didn't think she was capable of it. But what if...? He mentally cursed himself and reached for the novelty stress ball shaped like a virus that sat on top of his coasters.
Dave knew he was letting his wife down. She'd made it clear that she expected more sex in the relationship and that she needed to feel desired and attractive, but Dave just couldn't deliver that for her. He'd been working with his doctor on ways to bring his testosterone levels back up to some kind of reasonable baseline, but like the doctor had told him, "you can't boost something that doesn't exist.”
So he'd started hormone treatment. Supplements designed to artificially introduce more testosterone to his system, meant to get him “back in the saddle,” as it were. But the process hadn't been easy or pleasant. Dave's body seemed to devour the testosterone—like some kind of black hole—and regardless of the dose prescribed, his levels continually came back pathetically low.
He couldn't tell his wife about it; he was far too embarrassed to admit something like that to his strong, confident, and self-assured wife. She'd definitely see him as less of a man, and then it wouldn't even be a question of her stepping out of the marriage; she might just dump his ass out on the porch altogether. Dave was having a hard enough time even talking about it with his doctor.
Dr. Biko was everything Dave wished he could be. He was tall, handsome, well-muscled, and heavily respected by his peers. The fact that he was black made Dave a bit nervous, but his position as a doctor meant that he was “one of the good ones.” Dave had made sure to let Dr. Biko know that, too, hoping he could form some comradery with the man.
It had seemed to work, too, since Dr. Biko had begun asking about his ******, where he lived, and what his job was. Dave was more than happy to open up about his life and had probably gotten a bit too smug when speaking about his wife. Dave couldn't blame Dr. Biko for being interested in her; she was an incredible woman in every regard.
When the doctor joked about “a white boi like Dave” not deserving her, they both laughed like good friends. Now, though, Dave struggled to meet the man's eyes when he went in for his checkups, all too aware of the staggering difference between them. It didn't help that the good-natured joking between them had taken on an air of mockery, and Dave typically ended up leaving his appointments feeling as though he were less of a man.
He didn't know what to do. His wife wasn't sharing her life with him, his medication wasn't working, and neither of his children looked at him as anything other than a piggy bank these days. Just the other week, Miranda had asked him for almost two grand to cover an insane shopping trip she'd taken her friends on. After transferring the money, he could have sworn she'd smirked and then called him a loser under her breath.
It was all too much. Something needed to change, and change in a hurry, or Dave felt like he was going to be left behind by his ******. Maybe a ****** vacation? Would the Caribbean help to heal those wounds? Dr. Biko’s dark face played across his mind, and he mentally corrected himself. Maybe… France? Ireland was supposed to be quite beautiful.
The buzzer on his phone dinged, and his assistant chirped across the speaker, “Mr. Geltan, your nine forty-five appointment is here. Should I let him in?”
Dave almost hurled the stress ball across the room in his shock. He took a moment to wrangle his breathing and then punched the button to respond. “Send him in, Liv.” Working in upper management at a pharmaceutical company had its perks, but entertaining the shareholders had to be one of the most soul-draining aspects of his day. With a sigh, Dave replaced the novelty stress ball, straightened his tie, and did his best not to think about the fact that his wife very obviously didn't want to talk to him.
-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-
Elly and Daniel had an incredibly pleasant morning out together. They'd gotten Starbucks, hit the nail salon, gossiped, and then settled in a little little lunch bar for a small meal. The day was gorgeous, and the patio afforded them the much-needed fresh air they'd both craved.
Daniel, for his part, had done his best to explain his unique situation. Elly had earnestly listened and asked questions where she could, but ultimately felt a bit overwhelmed by the explanations. She knew she was going to struggle to remember half of what her son told her, and so she had decided to simply put on her mom's pants and listen without judgment. If she fumbled in the future, she would just ask to be forgiven; she knew she would be.
It had started young for her son. He was younger than even he could remember clearly. The only thing he could say for sure was that he knew he was different; by 8 or 9, he was wishing he could grow breasts. By 13, he was imagining himself as more feminine than his body presented. And now, at 18, he knew that he wanted a bit of both.
It was something he had called “gender fluid,” slipping like water between the two states of existence depending on how they felt. She'd asked if that meant she would need to be careful about his pronouns, and he had laughed. Being her son didn't bother him, and having her refer to him as a man also didn't bother him since he was sometimes a man. He'd reassured her that she wouldn't need to worry about hurting his feelings.
Elly felt much better about the situation and their relationship by the time Daniel had worked through his explanation. But they had both very politely danced around the elephant in the room, and after sipping a particularly tangy daiquiri, Elly decided to let the small fire of alcohol burning in her stomach lead the way.
“So... that machine... I assume that was also a part of being gender fluid.” Elly hadn't meant it to come out snide, but the daiquiri had somehow turned into three, and she was feeling a little more brazen than was probably socially acceptable.
Daniel's ears turned bright pink as he blushed furiously. Despite this, it seemed like he'd at least thought about his answer, which Elly appreciated; she hated beating around the bush. “So... there's this... kink.” It was a muted response; Daniel’s eyes darted about as though willing the other patrons to lose their hearing. Elly knew they didn't care; the people around them were all tacitly accepting the social etiquette of tuning out the world around them.
“And... before I start, I need you to know that I'm not racist! Ok? I'm not! You have to believe that!” Elly wasn't sure how to feel about that statement. Typically, when anyone started an explanation that way, whatever it was they said next ended up being incredibly racist. She gave him the benefit of the doubt and nodded.
“It's called the BNWO; it stands for Black New World Order. Basically, it's a sexual fantasy about the black race claiming superiority over all the others and dominating them.”. Suddenly, Devon’s devilish grin was front and center in Elly's mind, and a sobering chill crept up her spine. “Essentially, whites, like you and me, submit ourselves sexually and, in other ways, to black men and women. It's ultimately about white inferiority and using that as a sexual fetish.”
Elly sat in stunned silence at her son's admission. Forget racist; everything he'd just said sounded incredibly fucking hot! She'd already been submitting herself to Devon pretty much every night, and it sounded a lot like Maurice was going to be balls deep inside her later that day as well. If that didn't sound like submitting herself to the black race, then she didn't know what did.
“Ok, alright, I think I can understand that. You get off on being... what? Weak? Submissive?” Elly levied a guess at the source of pleasure for the kink. What made her son so dedicated to the fetish?
Daniel was quick with the response to that inquiry, seeming to gain confidence with Elly's receptive posturing. “It's a little more complex than that, but yeah. The thought of being made to revel in my inferiority by a strong, dominant, virile black man does things to my mind that I can't even explain.”
A couple walking past swiveled their heads to cast a questioning look at him. Daniel ducked his head, attempting to ignore their stares as he smiled apologetically at Elly. “So, I've got a slut for a son. I don't suppose I'm going to be expecting any grandchildren, then. It seems like a bit of a pipe dream if you want to spend your free time having your ass resized by hung black men. Do you have a boyfriend? Do you want a boyfriend?”
Daniel blushed again, but he didn't deny the accusations. “I do want a boyfriend, I guess. But for obvious reasons, he'd... well, I'd hope to have a black boyfriend, I guess.” He quickly stumbled on to add, “Ah! But I wouldn't be opposed to a girlfriend, or maybe a master? Mistress? I just know that I'd want my partner to be dominant with me. Take control and lead me. So if I got a girlfriend, she would need to want to own me, I think.”
Elly shot back the rest of her daiquiri and stood, suddenly feeling motivated to take a more active role in her son's life. “Get up, ya slut! We're going shopping, and we ain't stoppin’ till every man within 50 miles can't help but turn their head!”
Bewildered, Daniel stood and smiled awkwardly. “Uh, Mom, don't you think maybe we should head home? You've had a bunch to drink, you know? Shouldn't we-”
But Elly cut him off with a bark of laughter: “Hell no! You want a woman to take charge? Well, buckle up, buckaroo! Mama’s going to turn her little sissy son into a stud-slaying slut; mark my words, you'll be throwing it back on some real meat before the week is out, I swear it!”
Daniel had gone from a giddy sort of nervous to mildly terrified at his mother's bold proclamation. Elly could see the cogs turning in his skull, and the boy was reconsidering whether sharing that information had been a wise choice. He was wondering to what extent this little adventure would impact his future.
But above all of that, Elly couldn't help but notice the bulge of excitement that had been straining the front of Daniel's pants for a while now. He'd chosen not to wear that cage device from the previous night, and now he sheepishly tried to hide his-admittedly small-erection from prying eyes. But Elly saw it. And Elly recognized that she could use it.
Unwittingly, Elly had just stumbled across her first true pawn in this amorphous game of chess. And if she didn't make the effort to capitalize on it, she would forever regret letting go of such an opportunity. All she needed to do was position herself in the role of Daniel's dominant, place herself above him on the social ladder, and ensure that both his loyalty and dedication belonged exclusively to her.
Accomplishing that would provide her with a permanent tool with which she could expand her control, entice other men, fish for options, and network with her partners. Hell, she could pimp Daniel out to any Tom or Dick that needed some relief, and he would probably thank her for it. Good, this was good. Miranda was a lost cause to her; Devon would have his hooks in her by now, and later that night she might not even be the only one carrying his child.
But Daniel... Daniel, she could make hers and hers alone. Making up her mind, she took her son's hand and stormed off to the next boutique she needed to hit. She would make this situation work to get an advantage, or she would die trying. Devon's words came back to her then: “sluts like you pump out sluts.” She looked back into the excited eyes of her son, and she grinned at just how true those words had been.
-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-
Dave had come home to an empty house—not even a note left on the table—no text, no phone call. He'd shouted out when he'd stepped into the front hall, expecting at least Miranda to poke her head out of her room, but it was silent. His temples throbbed as he sat at the kitchen table, entirely at a loss as to what could have happened to his ******. It wasn't uncommon for his kids to go days at a time without speaking to him, but his wife?
He looked over to the liquor cabinet and made a snap decision. If he was going to spend the night alone, then to hell with them, he'd do it ***** and not give a fuck! He was some kind of third wheel to whatever they had going on, so to hell with them! The first glass of bourbon was rough and smokey, harsh on his tongue, and left him feeling bitter and alone. The second went down much easier.
By the fourth, Dave had pulled most of their picture albums from the shelves in the living room and silently flipped through the accumulated memories of his ******'s growth. Miranda's 3rd birthday, Daniel’s junior softball championship, and their vacation to Mont Loc. He didn't weep; he couldn't quite bring himself to cry, but he did mope. I struggled to understand when things had gone so wrong when they'd all grown so far apart. Was it his fault? He'd never thought he was an absent father, but perhaps he wasn't doing enough.
With the kind of clarity only a substantial amount of alcohol could bring, Dave swore that he would push himself to be a better father and husband. He would pounce on Elly the moment she came home, showering her with the love he knew she needed. He would pester Daniel about what games he was playing so late at night. And he would spoil Miranda without feeling slighted. He owed it to his ****** to be a better man.
The sixth drink had Dave slumped over the kitchen table, barely coherent enough to admire the sparkle of his crystal tumbler. He tried to check the time on the stove clock, but the numbers swam around the room anytime he looked at them. The front door chime sounded, and Dave heard the shuffling of feet. How did he pronounce his wife's name? He tried to say it but didn't recognize the sound that came out of his mouth.
“Dave?! Jesus, Dave, what the fuck? Are you *****?!” That was his wife, for sure; he could tell by the disappointment in her tone. She sounded like that after he forgot to put their bins out by the curb.
“I'm going to go get washed up, mom. I've got so many loads in my hair that I don't think it'll ever wash out. Is he going to be ok? Do you need a hand?” That was… Daniel? Huh? Were they out together? Is that why she hadn't texted him back?
“Ugh… I know, I'm going to be leaking all night. I never thought they'd invite another four fucking guys. Sorry, sweetie. I know it was your first time, but we kind of jumped in feet first. It'll be fine; I'll just dump him on the couch or something. I'll join you for that shower right after. Lord knows I'll need all the help I can get trying to get the cum out of my hair.” Dave tried to say her name again, but it came out as an elongated moan.
“Jesus, Dave. Of all the fucking irresponsible decisions... C'mon you dumbass, get up! Christ, you're heavy. Use your legs, Dave, come on.” Elly was moving him, or trying to. He couldn't quite feel her arms around him, but he caught her scent. She reeked of weed and sweat. A wash of masculine cologne rolled over Dave's nose, and he felt the bile in his stomach do a little flip.
“Well, you sure picked a good fucking night for this shit. Come on, we're almost there. I'll get you a damn bucket, so just hold on.”
It wasn't that Elly threw him; it was more or less that she let him fall onto the couch. Dave wiggled his arms in her general direction and tried his best to express his love for her. “Milieesss, I luvvvuuoooahhh." It'd been his best attempt yet, but the mildly disgusted look on Elly's face told him she hadn't understood it. Damn.
“Ugh… Listen, Dave, I love you, but this is fucking pathetic, ok? This self-destructive bullshit is weak and repulsive. Be a fucking man and get your shit together. Maybe then I wouldn't need to... ah, whatever.” She turned and strode back into the kitchen without finishing her thought.
Dave tried to hold onto the sentence despite his tenuous grasp on short-term memories. She wouldn't have to. What? Why did she smell that way? Where did that come from? Why was Daniel with her? Men? Elly returned with the bucket, and Dave focused on every last brain cell he could muster.
“Whures-*urp*- wereas Mirnada?” Elly had to have understood that one.
She knelt to be at eye level with Dave, her expression softening into something like pity or sadness. “She'll be home later; she's not going to be done with them for a while, and Daniel couldn't keep up, so we had to come back. Though, based on the shape you're in, I'm half tempted to just go back. Don't worry about my ********, Dave; she's in better hands.”
And with that, she stood and headed for the stairs. Dave's eyebrows knit together as his addled mind struggled to remember what he'd asked to get an answer like that. Something had been smeared across Elly's face that he couldn't identify; it coated her hair as well. She almost looked like a water painting, but everything was blurry and shifted around the room as Dave's eyes refused to focus on any one thing.
Why was he on the couch? Had the kitchen lights always been that dim?
-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-
Elly stepped into the shower and immediately moaned as the hot water hit her skin. Despite what she'd said to Dave, there was no way she could go back to Maurice's house. Her body was beyond spent. “Here, sweety, turn this way. I'll get that part.”
She spun Daniel to face away from her and drizzled the back of his head with shampoo. The evening hadn't gone at all the way she thought it would, and that made her feel a bit bad for her son. The boy had been put through the wringer by six different black men over four hours. If only she still had the energy to bounce back from something like that.
“Sorry for leaving your key here; I know it wasn't easy with your cage the whole time. You did well hiding the discomfort.” She scrubbed her fingers through her son's hair, and the sensation made him moan with equal parts relief and pleasure.
“It's for the best; white bois shouldn't be getting hard under any circumstances, let alone when being used by a superior king. It would've just been disrespectful and embarrassing. I still can't believe I managed to take two of them inside me at once. Did you even see their cocks?! I should be dead!”
Elly chucked and shoved his head under the water. "Honestly, I'm more impressed you managed to cum like that. Thank god we put that condom on under your cage. Could you imagine if you'd squirted on one of them? We'd both be in the ICU right now.”
Daniel laughed as he ran the luffa across his hairless body. “I still think that's a bit unfair; you were squirting like a fuckin' fountain the entire time, and they didn't even blink! Ok, my turn, spin around!”
Daniel's cage clinked cutely as he turned to start washing all the cum out of Elly's hair. The whole ridiculous situation had come about as a result of Elly finally coming clean to Daniel about her affair with Devon. Her son hadn't so much as blinked at the confession. He had stunned Elly when he begged her to ask Devon if he could join them.
Elly was hesitant at first, not knowing how Devon would react to the proposal, but to her surprise, not only had he enthusiastically agreed to have Daniel involved, but Elly suspected her son had ended up being used more than either her or Miranda. “I wonder how Miranda is holding up; it's her first time, and they're running a train on her right now.”
She heard Daniel snort and half turned to ask what was so funny. “Mom, sis lost her virginity to my machine months and months ago. Hell, there was a stretch where I didn't think she would ever give it back. I wouldn't be surprised if some of those men tap out before she does.”
Ah, so other things were going on in this house that escaped Elly's oversight. She shook her head ruefully and chuckled. “You two are making me feel older and older by the moment! It's no wonder Devon got bored with me; I just can't keep up anymore.” Daniel's fingers felt good massaging her skull, and she allowed herself to drift back into her recollections of the evening.
Daniel and she had bonded heavily over their shared interest in the BNWO. They'd spent all afternoon running a crash course on white servitude and her role in the BNWO as a mature, white slut. Neither of them could handle the eroticism of the lessons and had inevitably come home to spend some quality time with Daniel's machine.
Elly silently marveled at how comfortable the transition had been between herself and her son. While there'd been some early trepidation, all of what had happened between them ultimately felt natural, like they were finally slotting neatly into roles they had meant to be in from the start. As she stood there, back to her son, she felt no sexual tension, no embarrassment, no shame.
She had put that down to not seeing her son as a man. Or anything even remotely capable of being a sexual interest to her, not just because he was her son but because he was white. The BNWO had added a broader perspective to her outlook on men, on her position, and on her son's position relative to her. The only intrinsic sexual value the boy had was as a whore for the black race. Her son knew it, too, and so their showering together was nothing but platonic.
The thought brought Dave to mind, and she grimaced internally. Things had changed now that she and Daniel had officially been “blacked.”. Miranda had practically thrown herself at the men mere moments after passing through the door to their household. Elly wondered what exactly it was that Devon had done to motivate her ******** like that, but deep down she knew it was just in their nature as the subservient race. Miranda had been unable to resist their charms and sexual superiority any more than Elly had.
Yes, things had changed, and there was no longer any going back for any of them. She knew that if she wasn't able to play her cards right with Dave, a nasty divorce would be the most likely outcome. Losing a significant source of financial and parenting support for her and her future black children wasn't something she could allow. Miranda would likely end up finishing high school pregnant, if not a mother, which only added to the importance of keeping Dave around.
She couldn't hold the children over his head; they were adults and would be able to make their own decisions on where they went in the divorce. She couldn't use money to leverage him since he was currently paying for everything. Sex might have been an option, but the thought of sleeping with Dave physically repulsed Elly in a way she couldn't adequately articulate.
There had to be something. Something she could use as a leash to keep the man bound to their ****** as a caregiver and wallet. The photo albums strewn across the floor of the living room came to mind—the haphazard mess caused by a ***** man's sorrow—and all at once she knew what needed to happen. It wasn't a sure bet, and if it failed, they'd be forced to rope in another poor sucker to become their new nanny, but she had to try it.
-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-
Dave awoke with a groan. His head felt like it was coming apart at the seams, and when he brought a hand up to cover his eyes, he ended up groaning again from the movement. Everything hurt, and his stomach felt like it was at open war with him. He fought to keep the bile down and slowly peeled open one eye.
The bright morning light coming through the living room window blinded him, and he tried to turn away from it, only to find the back of the couch preventing him from escaping. “Wha-urk-” Dave rolled to the side and threw up into the bucket next to the couch.
Water. He needed lots of it. Wiping his mouth with the back of his hand, he looked to the coffee table and found a glass with a note tucked under it. Sighing in relief, he grabbed the glass and chugged it down all at once. It wasn't enough, but hopefully it would help to settle whatever was happening to his stomach.
He picked up the note and flipped it open; he recognized Elly's neat, feminine handwriting.
“Dave, I don't know what to say; it was bad enough for you to get ***** during the week like that, but to assault our ********? I don't know who you are anymore. I'm devastated and confused. I'd thought you still held some love for this ******, but I guess that's gone now, too. I've taken the kids, and we'll be staying with a friend for a few days to think things over. I haven't told the police; Miranda didn't want that. She swears you didn't mean to do it, but I think she just loves you too much. Don't come looking for us, ok?”
The note slipped from Dave's hand as he finished reading it. There was no way. He could never, ever do something like that! Not in a million years, not in a billion. He could feel the panic attack start to set in. He brought his hands together in front of himself, trying to keep them from shaking, and then he noticed the bruises. A light, gentle shift on his skin. From pale off-pink to a sickly yellow, it circled his wrist as though he'd been grabbed.
Then again, a similar ring around his other wrist, and scratches, too. Trailing up his forearm as though someone had struggled to fight him off. The bottom fell out of his gut, and he scrambled to take his shirt off. More bruises fell across his chest, followed by more scratches. His pants were undone, the belt flopping uselessly against his thigh as he shot to his feet. No, no! This was wrong. He couldn't have done that.
He fought to remember. He struggled to link up his current memories with the ones just before he'd started flipping through photo albums. But there was nothing. A dark void was all he had of the previous night, where his existence had given way to sorrow, regret, and loneliness. Dave collapsed back to the couch. Was it possible? Had he been so far gone that he'd attacked his ********? Surely not, but...
Doubt crept into the back of Dave's skull like a deadly predator; it stalked between his brain cells, looking to devour his hope wherever it cropped up. Should he turn himself in? No, he couldn't just abandon his ****** like that; he was the breadwinner, and he knew Elly would struggle to meet the needs of their children.
His mind looped, always returning to the thought that harming his ******** had been impossible for him, and yet the marks on his arms and chest were entirely real. Dave wobbled to his feet, scanning the kitchen for his phone. He needed to call Elly and explain that he couldn't have done anything to their ******** and that it was some horrible misunderstanding.
He located the phone on the kitchen counter. Thumbing the power button, he was once again greeted by the smiling face of his wife. It hurt to look at it. He'd missed a call from work, likely from his secretary, asking if he'd be in at some point. But there were two unread texts from Elly, sent earlier that morning. He opened his messages with her.
There, under a single line of text, was a picture of his ********. Mascara streaked, eyes red, and cheeks flushed. Around her neck were the same sickly-yellow marks of having been grabbed. Definite imprints of fingers could be made out where the skin had gotten angry and red. The line of text read, “How could you? She was only trying to help you.”
Dave broke, then. Right there in his kitchen, surrounded by the familiar trappings of a well-lived-in house, Memories of happier days and important events lined the walls as though to mock what his life had become. Dave screamed in the sort of way only a man who'd lost what was most dear to him could. And then he cried because there was nothing else his mind could understand how to do.
He lost himself in a spiral of guilt and regret. Bargaining with the universe at large to undo whatever it was that he had done. Begging and pleading for things to be made right. He would offer up anything—his life, his job, his very soul—if it meant having another chance to make things right with his ******. He didn't care how bad things were for him; he didn't care if Elly never even looked him in the eye again; he would grin and bear it if it meant they would come home.
Dave should have been careful with what he wished for. If he had known what the universe had in store for him, he'd have fled from the house, abandoned his job, and run screaming across the border to begin a new life in another country. But Dave didn't know. All Dave knew was that it hurt too much to imagine a life without his beautiful wife and amazing children. And in that moment, he'd have walked through the gates of hell to get them back.
Ch. 03 From Frying Pan To Fire
Miranda looked down at her mother with mixed feelings. On the one hand, the situation was anything but “normal” … on the other… “Ugh, are you fucking done yet? It's been, like, forty years already!”
Elly just made a distracted sound as the bulk of her focus remained on her immediate task. Miranda huffed and brought the joint back up to her lips. The smoke was heavy, musky, and made her mouth feel like she'd just spent a day in the desert. Her eyes slid off the naked form of her mother and locked onto Daniel, who was busy at the other end of the couch.
She'd known he was a faggot; knew that he would likely be an even bigger slut than she was, but now that she was watching it happen, she couldn't help but feel somewhat jealous. Her brother currently had three different men fucking the shit out of him. Two of the men had managed to somehow stuff both their cocks into his ass and were viciously fucking it like it owed them money. The man in front of Daniel had both his hands on the back of her brother's head and was bouncing it off his crotch like a volleyball.
She watched on, listening to her brother moan onto the man's cock hungrily, likely delirious with need for the man's seed. Miranda clicked her tongue and took another drag of the joint. Somehow, she'd been muscled out of the rotation and now sat impatiently on a footstool, rubbing her pussy with a frustrated kind of fervor. This was supposed to be her night. Devon had promised that she would be his focus of desire; Devon had promised a lot of things, but Miranda had begun to doubt most of them would ever come to pass.
She looked over at the boy, greedily slamming his cock down her mother's throat with his eyes closed and head tilted back; probably thinking about some other woman he wanted to fuck. It should have been her. She'd had her eyes on Devon since his ****** had moved into the neighborhood, she'd dropped hint after hint that she was both available and willing, but Devon had never even so much as looked her way.
Looking back down at her mother's slutty body, she knew why that had been. Maurice had slipped his cock out of Elly’s pussy and without even slowing his motion, or looking down, stuffed the entire length of it into her mother's ass. The only sound her mother made was a contented hum as the cock buried itself back inside her. Miranda took another long drag of the joint, really feeling the weed hitting her system. She needed one of the Black men in the room to fuck her, and soon, or she was going to get pissy.
She hadn't been surprised when her mother had confessed about her cheating. If she were being honest, she'd have cheated on her father, too. The man was a pathetic shell of a human, so caught up in his own bullshit that he barely had time to straighten up before being bent over again. Miranda had made a sort of game of it. How badly could she fuck her father over before he finally grew a spine?
It had been a few years now and Miranda still didn't see any hint of a backbone in the man. If anything, every concession the man made for his ******** seemed to improve the odds he'd concede the next time as well. Miranda was half certain she could set the man on fire and he'd have still paid her to put him out.
She came while smoking the last of the joint, imagining her father waking up to the note they'd left him, his pathetic wailing echoing through the empty house. It got her hot, made her want to fuck. Pathetic men like her father and brother were destined to be used and abused for her satisfaction. If their suffering couldn't make her cum, then what good were they?
She rose from the footstool and flicked the spent roach in her hand towards the kitchen sink, not bothering to see where it landed or if it had gone out. Not her house, not her problem, she needed dick. She wandered over to the end of the couch occupied by her brother. She figured it might be easier to steal one of the two men currently reshaping her brother's internal organs. With a liquid grace she knelt and laid her head down on the small of Daniel's back, wide blue eyes staring up at the hung black man with an imploring expression.
His large hand came to rest on the back of her head and with a satisfied grunt he pulled his cock from her brother's ass. It slid free with a wet squelch and Daniel moaned disappointedly by the sudden loss of fullness. Miranda ignored it and opened her mouth while swirling her tongue, inviting the man to use it freely. The man didn't hesitate, feeding the length of his thick, hard cock down Miranda's throat and fucking it like any other pussy.
This was what she had needed, the haze of weed, the stench of sweat and cum, the moans and grunts. She loved this. The raw, unfiltered hedonism of fucking without worry, without responsibility, without so much as one concern. It was liberating, empowering, and so, so incredibly fucking hot. To her left she could hear the frenzied grunts of Maurice emptying his balls into her mother. The man came loudly, growling like some wild animal as her mother moaned around Devon's cock. Lucky bitch.
She glanced up at the man using her throat like a disposable fuck toy and found that he, too, had his eyes closed. It annoyed her that he was mentally somewhere else, picturing something other than her sweet little face wrapped around his shaft. She knew she was hot, she knew she had a nice body, and it irked her that she would be ignored like that. She jerked her head back, feeling the head of the man's cock pull up her neck and past her tongue. She gasped loudly and slurped at the long string of spit and pre-cum that laced its way between her lips and his cock.
“Fuck me.” She purred, “Fill this little white pussy with your babies.” It wasn't a request, and as she swung her leg over the small of Daniel's back, she wiggled her hips to emphasize her demand. “Break this little teen pussy.” And that was all it took. She felt the tip of his hard shaft press against her tight, wet cunt and with a grunt of effort the man had himself buried up to his balls inside her.
It knocked the wind out of her, and she wheezed as his powerful hand scooped up a fistful of her hair. His cock had plowed into her cervix and little motes of light danced across her vision as the pain radiated up her spine. She couldn't breathe from the shock of it, her throat whistled as what little remained of the air in her lungs leaked out. Then the man was thrusting and it was all she could do to not simply pass out. He fucked her like a ragdoll, her head jolting back and forth with each impact of her hips. Yes, this was what she needed.
The man abusing Daniels throat reached over and grabbed hold of her chin, dragging her face roughly to his own in order to kiss her. His breath stank of weed and rot, but even so, she rolled her tongue over his with reckless abandon. Daniel retched as the man's cock rediscovered his gag reflex. The sudden swell of Daniel's back did wonderful things to the angle of Miranda's pussy and suddenly she was cumming.
Breaking away from the kiss, she glanced up the couch to see that Maurice and Devon had traded places on her mother. Elly looked as though she had found the gates of heaven and had thrown them wide, her face a complete flush of absolute ecstasy. Miranda wondered why her mom had ever bothered with Dave in the first place if she'd loved black men so much.
A meaty hand wrapped around her sore neck and her breath caught in her lungs. The slamming against her ass intensified and Miranda suddenly and excitedly squealed as another intense orgasm racked her body. Daniel shifted underneath her as a hot torrent of her squirt splattered down his ass and onto the floor. Things were reaching a fever pitch and she could tell she was moments away from having her pussy stuffed with black cum.
“Yes! Yes! Fuck it! Fuck me!” She tried to encourage the man ruining her tight slit, but with his hand around her throat, and her teeth clenched, she knew it only came out as incomprehensible hisses. It didn't matter, nothing she could have said or done would have changed the fact that the man was going to dump his load inside her unprotected pussy. From the start, none of the 6 men had even suggested protection, and neither Miranda, or her mother, had wanted to use it.
While Miranda hadn't subscribed as heavily to the trappings of the BNWO as her mother and brother, she did still believe that it was the exclusive right of Black men to have unrestricted access to her holes. She saw condoms as just another tool of the white race to repress the excellence of the superior Black race. Using them, or even asking a Black man to use them, was both disrespectful and racist. How could she consciously choose to deny a black life the opportunity of being born? If she got pregnant then it was simply meant to be.
Miranda turned her eyes down to the slender, feminine back of her brother. She wondered absently if maybe he wasn't feminine enough to have grown his own uterus. Perhaps her father had managed to produce such an effeminate man that he'd gained the capacity for pregnancy. Her brain rattled in her skull as the hung stud behind her fucked another orgasm up her spine. He was on the verge of cumming. Perhaps it was faggots like her brother that would birth the next step of humanity, the white race regressing to the point of being unilaterally capable of producing mixed race children, regardless of gender.
The weed was finally frying her brain and constantly cumming over and over had sent her into an altered state of existence. Detached from herself, she looked on as the man behind her screwed up his face in a ricktus of pleasure. Distantly she could feel his cock throb as the first pulse of cum washed into her cunt. She turned her attention to Daniel who was practically curled into the chest of the man plowing his abused asshole.
She noticed the small pool of thin, watery cum collecting on the abs of the man fucking her brother. She marveled at the difference between them, the stark contrast of skin tone, the wildly different physique, the staggering gap between feminine and masculine. Daniel was a bitch. He was a lowly slut; designed to be fucked and bred like a common whore on the genetic level. There was nothing masculine about him, not one thing about her brother could be used as a representation of the male form.
He didn't have a penis, he had an overly-large clit. He didn't have an asshole, he had a pussy. She recognized it, then. Regardless of what Daniel said, or believed, or felt, at the end of the day, he would always be more of a sister than a brother to Miranda. She was struck with a pang of sympathy for Daniel, then. Something like sadness drifted across her malfunctioning mind as she considered that Daniel would never get to experience the joy of bringing a new Black life into the world.
And then she was back in her own body, howling through another toe-curling orgasm as the man behind her finally finished pumping out what seemed to be a gallon of cum. She collapsed on top of Daniel before bonelessly sliding to the dirty couch. She'd never cum so much in her life and it was only the first day of their two day fuck-fest. No doubt when they finally decided to put Dave out of his misery she'd be several pounds lighter from all the burned calories.
Daniel had passed out after being forced to blow a second load through the end of his small steel cage and was now being used as a blow up doll. Glancing over at her mother, Miranda could see a small pool of squirt forming between Devon's legs. Likely, her mom hadn't stopped cumming since he'd stuck his glorious cock inside her. Miranda was too spent to get jealous, she just turned her head back slightly to accommodate the cum-soaked cock of the man that has just finished fucking her stupid.
It was going to be a long, incredible, and life changing two days. Miranda couldn't fucking wait to see how desperately her disgusting excuse of a father threw himself upon their mercy when they got back. They still had a trump card to pull in case he got fussy about the new arrangements, but she already knew they weren't going to need it.
-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-
Elly stared up into Devon’s eyes; the young Black stud always had an intensity to his gaze that made Elly’s heart flutter. It'd been one of the first things she'd noticed when she met him all those months ago. Those dark, rich, intelligent eyes had captured her attention in a way few things had been able to, and anytime she looked into them she felt like she was being swallowed by them.
“Faster bitch! this ain't a fuckin’ massage!” Elly winced and sped up, not wanting to collect another black eye. Devon had developed a habit of beating her anytime he felt like she was disappointing him in some way. She didn't blame him, or resent him for it; that was just the nature of her position as his whore. If she were being honest, she was grateful for him keeping her in line like that.
She had expected Devon to spend the bulk of their orgy with her ********, but after the first morning had exhausted Miranda, Devon had taken her by the hair, dragged her onto the couch, and mounted her like a breeding mare. The act left Elly confused but elated and she struggled to reign in her smug satisfaction of having Devon set aside her ******** in order to use her.
As the day had progressed Elly found herself falling into something of a rivalry with her ********, vying for the attentions of each of the black men circulating through their holes. There were more of them now; apparently word had gotten out among Devon’s and Maurice's friends and now there was a steady stream of men to please. When Elly wasn't eating or drinking she was sucking and fucking.
Miranda had taken things in stride; strutting, dancing, twerking, and serving the men as though she'd been whoring for years. The girl was a natural hostess, ensuring there wasn't a dry cock in the room regardless of whether the men were actually hard or not. Elly hated to admit that she'd grown jealous of it. That youthful energy, the effortless attraction, her grace and popularity. It lit a fire within Elly, a spark that she hadn't known she'd still possessed.
And so she'd kicked things into overdrive. Throwing her ass back harder, clenching her cunt harder, working her throat faster, twisting her wrists a bit more. Soon, the men were dropping their loads with surprised satisfaction, loudly expressing that everyone needed to get some of her plush ass. Elly glowed with pride. She soaked in their admiration and affection; as a white cunt, this was her element, her natural habitat.
“Tsk, the fuck you spacin’ out fer? I said faster you stupid hoe.” Devon slapped her and she fought to keep her teeth off his cock as her head rocked to the side. She deserved that, getting distracted while sucking his burly cock wasn't something that could be tolerated. With renewed vigor Elly slammed her throat down around his shaft, bouncing her nose off his crotch as she felt the head of his cock drag up and down the walls of her throat.
She could do better, she could be better, for him. He didn't need her ********, he didn't need to abandon her. She was just as capable of milking out his load, she was hot, she was experienced, she- “ayo, Miranda, getcho’ pussy over here. This bitch is gettin’ tired.”
Devon pushed her head off his cock and she gasped for air as she rocked back on her haunches. She thought about fighting, begging him to let her ride his cock, but she knew that would only earn her a fat lip. She looked over to see her ******** being spit-roasted, the two men not quite willing to let the slut go. “Go keep they dicks wet, ya old bitch. Next time don't fuckin’ slack when yer givin’ me top.”
The words stung, but Elly perked up, there would be a next time. There was hope. There was still enough desire to keep her around. She wasn't being thrown away just yet. She nodded and silently made her way over to take her ********'s place between the two men. It hurt, but it was the nature of powerful men to not get too attached to their assets. And that was what Elly was, a tool. A pawn. A replaceable piece of ass that needed to either perform or disappear.
She looked over to the kitchen where Daniel was bent over the counter attempting to make sandwiches for everyone. The boy had such an exquisite look of ecstasy painted across his face as Maurice slammed his hips into his ass. Out of the three of them, Daniel had developed the most intimate patterns with his partners. He fucked them like lovers, like husbands or boyfriends, kissing them, sweet-talking them.
While Miranda and Elly had consistently fought for Devon’s attention the most, Daniel didn't seem to care more or less for any particular stud. Several of the men had already asked to make her son their woman which filled Elly with a strange sense of pride, and relief. Daniel would never lack affection again; likely he'd never spend another day of his life without a fat cock in his ass.
Elly gently brushed Miranda out from between the men and sent her to Devon before resuming the work of stroking their cocks with her holes. She didn't want this to end; if she had a choice, she would spend the rest of her days getting high while wedged between a couple hung studs. But life was cruel, and had brought her this opportunity too late. She would need to return to the house she shared with Dave and set the terms of their new arrangement.
She no longer cared whether he accepted them or not. If she came home to find him hanging from the ceiling at the very least she'd be collecting his life insurance. If he chose to leave… well… she'd be getting that life insurance either way, Devon had promised her that. Dave was fucked either way and all Elly needed to do now was spring the trap. But not before getting the most out of the day she had left.
-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-
Dave woke to the sounds of life downstairs in the kitchen. Immediately his body flooded with adrenaline and he threw himself out of the bed. He hoped beyond hope that Elly and his children had decided to come back; begged with the universe to let that be true. And as he rounded the corner at the bottom of the stairs his heart leapt as she came across his ****** in the kitchen, quietly talking amongst themselves.
“ELLY! MIRANDA! DANIEL!!” He almost wept as he gasped out their names, his chest thrummed with each heartbeat, “YOU'RE BACK!! PLEASE I'M SO SORRY, PLEASE! I WAS SO SCARED!! I'LL DO ANY-” And then Dave caught Elly’s mortified expression. The pure, unrestrained disgust. It was mirrored on his ********'s face as they stared him down.
He felt like a cockroach. Like some horrible little bug that needed to be destroyed and forgotten. “W-what? What are… you…” and then he looked down at himself, seeing nothing but the slightly piss-stained underwear he hadn't bothered taking off for the past day.
“Are you fucking kidding me, Dave? We came here for a serious discussion and you come down looking like that? Jesus Christ, have some fucking decency in front of your children! You've already robbed Miranda of her innocence, are you trying to traumatize her more?” Elly’s voice dripped with a seething rage that sent a chill up Dave's spine.
He didn't bother saying anything, he backed out of the room and went back upstairs to change. He was fucking this up already. He was blowing his last chance to save his ****** and set things right. He needed to calm down and think; all the words that he'd prepared over the last two days had flown out of his mind. He’d rehearsed and practiced and planned, but none of it had come to him when he went into that kitchen. And now they were pissed at him.
He numbly pulled his wrinkled clothes on and made his way back to the kitchen. He had to be brave. Come what may, he had to be strong. For them. “Sit. This is going to be a short talk and I want to get through it without listening to your mindless babbling.” Elly gestured to the seat opposite herself and Miranda. Dave took it with a growing lump in his throat.
“Firstly, fuck you for touching my ********. Words cannot express just how unfathomably pissed I am at you for even considering that. NO!” Elly saw his mouth open to respond and shut him down, “No, Dave. I don't give a shit that you were *****, it's no excuse. You shouldn't have fucking been drinking anyway! What the fuck were you thinking?! On a weeknight?! Fuck. You.”
Dave shrank in his chair. He would never touch Miranda. No matter how lonely he was, no matter how *****, no matter how… pretty she was. But Elly wouldn't hear it. Dave just needed to let her get through it.
“You know, when I married you, I saw a man who was capable of great things. I saw a tender, sweet, caring man with ambition and drive. I saw a man who'd do right by me, by our children. But over these last few years, Dave, that man walked away.”
Dave wanted to explain himself, tell her about the treatments, tell her that the man she loved was still there. “I don't know what happened to the man I loved but frankly, as things are, I don't care anymore. I've tried, Dave. I spent YEARS trying to drag you back up to being the man I needed in my life. I pushed you, I asked you, I begged you. And instead of growing a pair you ASSAULTED MY FUCKING ********?!”
Elly was shaking in her chair and Dave couldn't stop himself from crying. The tears welling up in his eyes blurring the room and stinging. He thought he saw Daniel smirk, but after blinking a few times the young man looked to be on the brink of tears, too.
“The kids and I talked about our options. They grew up in this house, they're still going through school, and you're still… you're still their father.” Even Elly was choking up now. The despair and sadness in her voice tore at Dave's heart. “Miranda, bless her, has chosen to forgive you. As a whole, we've decided that it's still the best thing for this ****** if we remain here, with… you.”
Dave's heart slammed into his throat and he croaked out a racking sob. The relief and gratitude overwhelmed his pain for a brief moment. “But I haven't forgiven you, and I don't know that I can. It will take a lot to earn back the trust you've broken, so with that, I'm laying down some ground rules for my continued participation in this marriage.”
Dave saw his opportunity to start clawing back whatever trust he could, he launched himself at it like a man scrambling for a life raft. “ANYTHING!! I'LL DO ANYTHING! JUST NAME IT! PLEASE!” Surely whatever it was would be better than the torment of her leaving.
“First, we're sleeping in separate rooms, you're clearing your shit out of the master bedroom and you're staying in the guest room. I can't share a bed with you now. Not after what you've done, and not after the years of failed… nights.” Dave nodded; that was a given, he couldn't make love to her anyway and if he needed to give up that space to appease her it was nothing to him.
“Second, I'm opening up our marriage to other people. DAVE IF YOU OPEN YOUR MOUTH AGAIN I WILL WALK OUT THAT DOOR! DO. NOT.” Dave had lurched forward, about to vehemently object to her point but the rage was back and she'd half-risen from her chair. Dave flinched back and his jaw snapped shut.
“This is for my sake, ok? You haven't touched me in years, Dave. I have desires, I have needs, and I just can't continue on without that physical intimacy. I'm sorry but if you want me to stay, I'm seeing other people. This applies to you, too. I still have enough love for you to give you that respect.”
Dave gaped at her. He'd been utterly blindsided by this. Or… had he? The thought had crossed his mind, but he'd never really thought she could do it. But… after what he'd done… so that was it, then. He really would be the reason his wife stepped out on him. Dave imagined her falling into the arms of another man and his heart broke all over again.
But this was his repentance. This was the toll he needed to pay for betraying his ******. Really, if anything, he should be thanking her for not just leaving. If her getting her satisfaction elsewhere meant she would continue to come home to him, to their children… then that was just how it needed to be.
“Third, if I so much as SUSPECT that you did, or are going to do, ANYTHING to my children again… a prison cell won't be where you end up. I mean it, Dave. I'm dead serious. I'm having a contractor come tomorrow to install cameras in every room of this house; if Miranda or Daniel get even so much as a shiver because you're around I'm putting you in a shallow grave. Don't fucking doubt it.”
Dave swallowed but nodded at her. Never again. It would never happen again.
“Lastly, I'll be bringing partners here. I expect you to make yourself scarce whenever they come by. I'll do what I can to give you a heads up about it, but I'd appreciate it if you kept your nose out of my relationships. It'll be a hard adjustment for you, and I'll extend you the same courtesy, but you lost the right to tell me who can come and go when you decided to **** your own fucking ********. Is that understood?”
Dave's mind crumpled. It was one thing to know his wife would be going out to see other men, but to have them come into his home? To be forced to listen to… that? To try to work and live in the same place where his wife was having sex with another man… he couldn't do it. He couldn't. He loved her too much, he couldn't stomach it. Dave retched before turning to the side and spewing out the microwave dinner he'd eaten the night before.
Miranda and Daniel both got up and moved away, making disgusted noises. Something on Daniel clinked, though Dave didn't notice. He doubled over and dry-heaved again as the nausea washed over him again. What if she found someone she wanted to be with more than him? What if one of the men she brought home hurt her? What if he bumped into one of the men in the hall?
Dave's world swam. Distantly he could tell he was hyperventilating. He had to agree to this. If he didn't she would leave him for sure. If he agreed at least there was a chance things could turn around. He would need to double his efforts, cross every t and dot every i. He would need to ensure his entire existence revolved around making sure Elly had all the things she needed. He couldn't give her everything, at least not yet, but he could give her most of it.
“Ugh… seriously? Get your fucking shit together, Dave. This could have been worse for you. Much worse. You're lucky I still… love… you as much as I do. I'll give you a day to get your shit out of my room, I've got a date lined up for tomorrow evening so keep your head down. And please, I'm begging you, don't do anything stupid.”
This was all too much. It was too much too fast. Dave couldn't process it. A date? With who? When had she lined that up? While they were away? Had she been talking to someone longer than that? Why had his kids not said anything? They obviously knew this was coming, but they hadn't said a single thing. He wiped his mouth on the sleeve of his dress shirt and sat back up in the chair, turning to look at his kids.
Miranda looked supremely bored and Daniel looked like he wasn't sure who to look at between himself and his wife. Was Daniel wearing makeup? Was that an… earring? It looked like a small, spade? Miranda, too; hers was on a small chain around her neck; another spade. Finally Dave turned back to his wife. There, around her wrist, a small silver bracelet sat elegantly against her pale skin, a small spade slotted neatly into a fold in the metal.
Matching jewelry? Maybe they'd gone out together while they were away? A bonding trip? Solidarity? He almost asked about them, almost. But then Elly's words snapped into place in his mind and he stared into his wife's beautiful eyes. She still loved him. Even after everything that'd happened, she still loved him. He smiled sadly, trying his best to put on a brave face in spite of his shattering sanity.
“Yeah, ok, I understand. T-thank you, Elly. For staying. For giving me another chance. I won't let you down. I'm sorry, for everything. I'll start moving things today. And, uh, g-good luck on your d… your date…” Dave turned to his children, his beautiful, sweet, innocent children and started crying again. He forced through it.
“G-guys… Miranda, I am so, so sorry. Whatever you need, just… please just let me know. I know… it must be hard to look at me, but… I do love you. Both of you. No matter what, you guys are my world. I'll do anything to prove that to you. I promise.” He tried to smile but could feel his lips turn down at the edges. Daniel looked like he wanted to come over and hug him, but stopped short. The action threw another weight onto Dave's heart. One day… one day he would get to hug his kids again.
Miranda looked down at him with a skeptical eye. But he could see the softness in her face, the care and affection that she'd always held for him. She was his little girl, and always would be, but he'd hurt her in a way he couldn't fix. He understood her reluctance and tried his best not to let it destroy him.
“Alright, we're done here. Daniel and I have an appointment to get to in half an hour so I'm taking the car. Miranda you need to get caught up on your routines since you've missed a couple days.”
Dave perked up at his wife's words, “Oh! I can give you a ride! What kind of appointment is it?” He started to rise from his seat to get the keys but Elly and Daniel shared a look that gave him pause.
“No, that's fine, it's nothing you need to worry about, dear. You have shit to pack and move so focus on that. We'll be back later this afternoon.”
Dave took a moment to look between the two before nodding and turning to the doorway of the kitchen. “Oh, Dave, I've given Miranda a taser so if you have second thoughts about our little talk here, don't expect things to go the way they did before. I'm not taking any chances, you understand, right?”
Dave swallowed and smiled back at his wife. Her threats of skipping the legal process suddenly became very real for Dave and a cold sweat broke out across his neck. “We've each got one, so I need you to try really, really hard not to be a disgusting pervert. I really don't want to have to dig your grave.”
The words were cold. The tone was sugary sweet, and yet Dave was overcome by a primal sense of danger. As though he'd suddenly found himself living in a cage with feral tigers. Any sudden movement, any squeak or twitch or flinch would have them tearing him to pieces before he knew it was happening.
“I'll, uh… I'll be in our-your, room. H-have fun o-out there.” Dave could feel each of their stares on his back as he turned to leave the room once more. It made him feel like sprinting down the hallway to escape the danger. Was this how it was going to be? Feeling like a mouse in his own home? Scurrying from room to room, trying not to be seen? But… Elly had come back. For better or worse, Elly had come back to him. He would make this work. He had to.
-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-
Elly watched Dave shuffle out of the room and blew out a breath. "He fucking bought it. I can't believe he actually fucking bought that. He's a bigger loser than I thought. God knows what I saw in that sack of shit."
Daniel chuckled and shrugged, "He's white. Honestly, we've never been humanities best."
Miranda chirped from where she stood, "You got that right, guy can't even stand up for himself. He didn't even fucking touch me and yet he's just rolling over and taking it. It's actually super gross."
Elly shivered with exaggerated disgust, "Ugh, whatever, that's done now. He knows the score and we've got some room to breathe. Devon wants this house as a new drop point for his business so we're going to have to play things safe for a while. I'll keep doing what I can to beat some sense into that pudgy white fuck, but don't be scared to rattle his cage a bit, too. We've got three hundred pounds of weed showing up sometime this evening so you're on deck, Em."
Miranda smiled, "I hope he's cute, and hung."
Elly shook her head, "Yeah, yeah just remember to fuck him AFTER you scale the dope. I'm not fucking this up on the first day because my ******** couldn't keep a dick out of her cunt long enough to weigh some weed."
MIranda rolled her eyes and stuck her tongue out. Elly turned her attention to her son, "Ready to make some money? We've got twenty pounds to sell and two pickups to make, if we factor in time for sex at each of the pickups we might just get back before midnight. Gonna need your game-face, babydoll."
Daniel nodded somewhat nervously, "Hopefully this works out, I think it'll be really good for us if we can get in on the ground floor. If we do this right, and keep Devon close, we won't need Da-I mean, Dave, for very long."
Elly nodded back, "That's the plan; get in, make money, ditch the loser. The better we do this, the faster we can get rid of him. With enough cash we can just pay for professionals to raise our kids properly instead of having that spineless bitch rubbing off on them. I don't know about you guys, but the thought of that man caring for my kids now just fucks me up."
her children nodded in agreement and they set out to accomplish their goals. Soon, their house would be a hub for the trafficking operation Devon was building. Elly had played her cards exactly how she needed to, but she still had a ways to go before securing a better future for her children. It wasn't enough. She needed to keep pushing, keep fighting, keep taking. Devon was still the best shot she had at making that happen.
she looked up the stairs as she and Daniel passed by on the way to the front door. Dave had no fucking clue what was coming. The limp-dicked idiot wouldn't even see it coming, when it happened. Elly would need to make sure she asked for a recording of it. She needed to watch it happen, she needed to see it for herself when they came for him. And they would come, she would make damn sure of that.
Elly just made a distracted sound as the bulk of her focus remained on her immediate task. Miranda huffed and brought the joint back up to her lips. The smoke was heavy, musky, and made her mouth feel like she'd just spent a day in the desert. Her eyes slid off the naked form of her mother and locked onto Daniel, who was busy at the other end of the couch.
She'd known he was a faggot; knew that he would likely be an even bigger slut than she was, but now that she was watching it happen, she couldn't help but feel somewhat jealous. Her brother currently had three different men fucking the shit out of him. Two of the men had managed to somehow stuff both their cocks into his ass and were viciously fucking it like it owed them money. The man in front of Daniel had both his hands on the back of her brother's head and was bouncing it off his crotch like a volleyball.
She watched on, listening to her brother moan onto the man's cock hungrily, likely delirious with need for the man's seed. Miranda clicked her tongue and took another drag of the joint. Somehow, she'd been muscled out of the rotation and now sat impatiently on a footstool, rubbing her pussy with a frustrated kind of fervor. This was supposed to be her night. Devon had promised that she would be his focus of desire; Devon had promised a lot of things, but Miranda had begun to doubt most of them would ever come to pass.
She looked over at the boy, greedily slamming his cock down her mother's throat with his eyes closed and head tilted back; probably thinking about some other woman he wanted to fuck. It should have been her. She'd had her eyes on Devon since his ****** had moved into the neighborhood, she'd dropped hint after hint that she was both available and willing, but Devon had never even so much as looked her way.
Looking back down at her mother's slutty body, she knew why that had been. Maurice had slipped his cock out of Elly’s pussy and without even slowing his motion, or looking down, stuffed the entire length of it into her mother's ass. The only sound her mother made was a contented hum as the cock buried itself back inside her. Miranda took another long drag of the joint, really feeling the weed hitting her system. She needed one of the Black men in the room to fuck her, and soon, or she was going to get pissy.
She hadn't been surprised when her mother had confessed about her cheating. If she were being honest, she'd have cheated on her father, too. The man was a pathetic shell of a human, so caught up in his own bullshit that he barely had time to straighten up before being bent over again. Miranda had made a sort of game of it. How badly could she fuck her father over before he finally grew a spine?
It had been a few years now and Miranda still didn't see any hint of a backbone in the man. If anything, every concession the man made for his ******** seemed to improve the odds he'd concede the next time as well. Miranda was half certain she could set the man on fire and he'd have still paid her to put him out.
She came while smoking the last of the joint, imagining her father waking up to the note they'd left him, his pathetic wailing echoing through the empty house. It got her hot, made her want to fuck. Pathetic men like her father and brother were destined to be used and abused for her satisfaction. If their suffering couldn't make her cum, then what good were they?
She rose from the footstool and flicked the spent roach in her hand towards the kitchen sink, not bothering to see where it landed or if it had gone out. Not her house, not her problem, she needed dick. She wandered over to the end of the couch occupied by her brother. She figured it might be easier to steal one of the two men currently reshaping her brother's internal organs. With a liquid grace she knelt and laid her head down on the small of Daniel's back, wide blue eyes staring up at the hung black man with an imploring expression.
His large hand came to rest on the back of her head and with a satisfied grunt he pulled his cock from her brother's ass. It slid free with a wet squelch and Daniel moaned disappointedly by the sudden loss of fullness. Miranda ignored it and opened her mouth while swirling her tongue, inviting the man to use it freely. The man didn't hesitate, feeding the length of his thick, hard cock down Miranda's throat and fucking it like any other pussy.
This was what she had needed, the haze of weed, the stench of sweat and cum, the moans and grunts. She loved this. The raw, unfiltered hedonism of fucking without worry, without responsibility, without so much as one concern. It was liberating, empowering, and so, so incredibly fucking hot. To her left she could hear the frenzied grunts of Maurice emptying his balls into her mother. The man came loudly, growling like some wild animal as her mother moaned around Devon's cock. Lucky bitch.
She glanced up at the man using her throat like a disposable fuck toy and found that he, too, had his eyes closed. It annoyed her that he was mentally somewhere else, picturing something other than her sweet little face wrapped around his shaft. She knew she was hot, she knew she had a nice body, and it irked her that she would be ignored like that. She jerked her head back, feeling the head of the man's cock pull up her neck and past her tongue. She gasped loudly and slurped at the long string of spit and pre-cum that laced its way between her lips and his cock.
“Fuck me.” She purred, “Fill this little white pussy with your babies.” It wasn't a request, and as she swung her leg over the small of Daniel's back, she wiggled her hips to emphasize her demand. “Break this little teen pussy.” And that was all it took. She felt the tip of his hard shaft press against her tight, wet cunt and with a grunt of effort the man had himself buried up to his balls inside her.
It knocked the wind out of her, and she wheezed as his powerful hand scooped up a fistful of her hair. His cock had plowed into her cervix and little motes of light danced across her vision as the pain radiated up her spine. She couldn't breathe from the shock of it, her throat whistled as what little remained of the air in her lungs leaked out. Then the man was thrusting and it was all she could do to not simply pass out. He fucked her like a ragdoll, her head jolting back and forth with each impact of her hips. Yes, this was what she needed.
The man abusing Daniels throat reached over and grabbed hold of her chin, dragging her face roughly to his own in order to kiss her. His breath stank of weed and rot, but even so, she rolled her tongue over his with reckless abandon. Daniel retched as the man's cock rediscovered his gag reflex. The sudden swell of Daniel's back did wonderful things to the angle of Miranda's pussy and suddenly she was cumming.
Breaking away from the kiss, she glanced up the couch to see that Maurice and Devon had traded places on her mother. Elly looked as though she had found the gates of heaven and had thrown them wide, her face a complete flush of absolute ecstasy. Miranda wondered why her mom had ever bothered with Dave in the first place if she'd loved black men so much.
A meaty hand wrapped around her sore neck and her breath caught in her lungs. The slamming against her ass intensified and Miranda suddenly and excitedly squealed as another intense orgasm racked her body. Daniel shifted underneath her as a hot torrent of her squirt splattered down his ass and onto the floor. Things were reaching a fever pitch and she could tell she was moments away from having her pussy stuffed with black cum.
“Yes! Yes! Fuck it! Fuck me!” She tried to encourage the man ruining her tight slit, but with his hand around her throat, and her teeth clenched, she knew it only came out as incomprehensible hisses. It didn't matter, nothing she could have said or done would have changed the fact that the man was going to dump his load inside her unprotected pussy. From the start, none of the 6 men had even suggested protection, and neither Miranda, or her mother, had wanted to use it.
While Miranda hadn't subscribed as heavily to the trappings of the BNWO as her mother and brother, she did still believe that it was the exclusive right of Black men to have unrestricted access to her holes. She saw condoms as just another tool of the white race to repress the excellence of the superior Black race. Using them, or even asking a Black man to use them, was both disrespectful and racist. How could she consciously choose to deny a black life the opportunity of being born? If she got pregnant then it was simply meant to be.
Miranda turned her eyes down to the slender, feminine back of her brother. She wondered absently if maybe he wasn't feminine enough to have grown his own uterus. Perhaps her father had managed to produce such an effeminate man that he'd gained the capacity for pregnancy. Her brain rattled in her skull as the hung stud behind her fucked another orgasm up her spine. He was on the verge of cumming. Perhaps it was faggots like her brother that would birth the next step of humanity, the white race regressing to the point of being unilaterally capable of producing mixed race children, regardless of gender.
The weed was finally frying her brain and constantly cumming over and over had sent her into an altered state of existence. Detached from herself, she looked on as the man behind her screwed up his face in a ricktus of pleasure. Distantly she could feel his cock throb as the first pulse of cum washed into her cunt. She turned her attention to Daniel who was practically curled into the chest of the man plowing his abused asshole.
She noticed the small pool of thin, watery cum collecting on the abs of the man fucking her brother. She marveled at the difference between them, the stark contrast of skin tone, the wildly different physique, the staggering gap between feminine and masculine. Daniel was a bitch. He was a lowly slut; designed to be fucked and bred like a common whore on the genetic level. There was nothing masculine about him, not one thing about her brother could be used as a representation of the male form.
He didn't have a penis, he had an overly-large clit. He didn't have an asshole, he had a pussy. She recognized it, then. Regardless of what Daniel said, or believed, or felt, at the end of the day, he would always be more of a sister than a brother to Miranda. She was struck with a pang of sympathy for Daniel, then. Something like sadness drifted across her malfunctioning mind as she considered that Daniel would never get to experience the joy of bringing a new Black life into the world.
And then she was back in her own body, howling through another toe-curling orgasm as the man behind her finally finished pumping out what seemed to be a gallon of cum. She collapsed on top of Daniel before bonelessly sliding to the dirty couch. She'd never cum so much in her life and it was only the first day of their two day fuck-fest. No doubt when they finally decided to put Dave out of his misery she'd be several pounds lighter from all the burned calories.
Daniel had passed out after being forced to blow a second load through the end of his small steel cage and was now being used as a blow up doll. Glancing over at her mother, Miranda could see a small pool of squirt forming between Devon's legs. Likely, her mom hadn't stopped cumming since he'd stuck his glorious cock inside her. Miranda was too spent to get jealous, she just turned her head back slightly to accommodate the cum-soaked cock of the man that has just finished fucking her stupid.
It was going to be a long, incredible, and life changing two days. Miranda couldn't fucking wait to see how desperately her disgusting excuse of a father threw himself upon their mercy when they got back. They still had a trump card to pull in case he got fussy about the new arrangements, but she already knew they weren't going to need it.
-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-
Elly stared up into Devon’s eyes; the young Black stud always had an intensity to his gaze that made Elly’s heart flutter. It'd been one of the first things she'd noticed when she met him all those months ago. Those dark, rich, intelligent eyes had captured her attention in a way few things had been able to, and anytime she looked into them she felt like she was being swallowed by them.
“Faster bitch! this ain't a fuckin’ massage!” Elly winced and sped up, not wanting to collect another black eye. Devon had developed a habit of beating her anytime he felt like she was disappointing him in some way. She didn't blame him, or resent him for it; that was just the nature of her position as his whore. If she were being honest, she was grateful for him keeping her in line like that.
She had expected Devon to spend the bulk of their orgy with her ********, but after the first morning had exhausted Miranda, Devon had taken her by the hair, dragged her onto the couch, and mounted her like a breeding mare. The act left Elly confused but elated and she struggled to reign in her smug satisfaction of having Devon set aside her ******** in order to use her.
As the day had progressed Elly found herself falling into something of a rivalry with her ********, vying for the attentions of each of the black men circulating through their holes. There were more of them now; apparently word had gotten out among Devon’s and Maurice's friends and now there was a steady stream of men to please. When Elly wasn't eating or drinking she was sucking and fucking.
Miranda had taken things in stride; strutting, dancing, twerking, and serving the men as though she'd been whoring for years. The girl was a natural hostess, ensuring there wasn't a dry cock in the room regardless of whether the men were actually hard or not. Elly hated to admit that she'd grown jealous of it. That youthful energy, the effortless attraction, her grace and popularity. It lit a fire within Elly, a spark that she hadn't known she'd still possessed.
And so she'd kicked things into overdrive. Throwing her ass back harder, clenching her cunt harder, working her throat faster, twisting her wrists a bit more. Soon, the men were dropping their loads with surprised satisfaction, loudly expressing that everyone needed to get some of her plush ass. Elly glowed with pride. She soaked in their admiration and affection; as a white cunt, this was her element, her natural habitat.
“Tsk, the fuck you spacin’ out fer? I said faster you stupid hoe.” Devon slapped her and she fought to keep her teeth off his cock as her head rocked to the side. She deserved that, getting distracted while sucking his burly cock wasn't something that could be tolerated. With renewed vigor Elly slammed her throat down around his shaft, bouncing her nose off his crotch as she felt the head of his cock drag up and down the walls of her throat.
She could do better, she could be better, for him. He didn't need her ********, he didn't need to abandon her. She was just as capable of milking out his load, she was hot, she was experienced, she- “ayo, Miranda, getcho’ pussy over here. This bitch is gettin’ tired.”
Devon pushed her head off his cock and she gasped for air as she rocked back on her haunches. She thought about fighting, begging him to let her ride his cock, but she knew that would only earn her a fat lip. She looked over to see her ******** being spit-roasted, the two men not quite willing to let the slut go. “Go keep they dicks wet, ya old bitch. Next time don't fuckin’ slack when yer givin’ me top.”
The words stung, but Elly perked up, there would be a next time. There was hope. There was still enough desire to keep her around. She wasn't being thrown away just yet. She nodded and silently made her way over to take her ********'s place between the two men. It hurt, but it was the nature of powerful men to not get too attached to their assets. And that was what Elly was, a tool. A pawn. A replaceable piece of ass that needed to either perform or disappear.
She looked over to the kitchen where Daniel was bent over the counter attempting to make sandwiches for everyone. The boy had such an exquisite look of ecstasy painted across his face as Maurice slammed his hips into his ass. Out of the three of them, Daniel had developed the most intimate patterns with his partners. He fucked them like lovers, like husbands or boyfriends, kissing them, sweet-talking them.
While Miranda and Elly had consistently fought for Devon’s attention the most, Daniel didn't seem to care more or less for any particular stud. Several of the men had already asked to make her son their woman which filled Elly with a strange sense of pride, and relief. Daniel would never lack affection again; likely he'd never spend another day of his life without a fat cock in his ass.
Elly gently brushed Miranda out from between the men and sent her to Devon before resuming the work of stroking their cocks with her holes. She didn't want this to end; if she had a choice, she would spend the rest of her days getting high while wedged between a couple hung studs. But life was cruel, and had brought her this opportunity too late. She would need to return to the house she shared with Dave and set the terms of their new arrangement.
She no longer cared whether he accepted them or not. If she came home to find him hanging from the ceiling at the very least she'd be collecting his life insurance. If he chose to leave… well… she'd be getting that life insurance either way, Devon had promised her that. Dave was fucked either way and all Elly needed to do now was spring the trap. But not before getting the most out of the day she had left.
-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-
Dave woke to the sounds of life downstairs in the kitchen. Immediately his body flooded with adrenaline and he threw himself out of the bed. He hoped beyond hope that Elly and his children had decided to come back; begged with the universe to let that be true. And as he rounded the corner at the bottom of the stairs his heart leapt as she came across his ****** in the kitchen, quietly talking amongst themselves.
“ELLY! MIRANDA! DANIEL!!” He almost wept as he gasped out their names, his chest thrummed with each heartbeat, “YOU'RE BACK!! PLEASE I'M SO SORRY, PLEASE! I WAS SO SCARED!! I'LL DO ANY-” And then Dave caught Elly’s mortified expression. The pure, unrestrained disgust. It was mirrored on his ********'s face as they stared him down.
He felt like a cockroach. Like some horrible little bug that needed to be destroyed and forgotten. “W-what? What are… you…” and then he looked down at himself, seeing nothing but the slightly piss-stained underwear he hadn't bothered taking off for the past day.
“Are you fucking kidding me, Dave? We came here for a serious discussion and you come down looking like that? Jesus Christ, have some fucking decency in front of your children! You've already robbed Miranda of her innocence, are you trying to traumatize her more?” Elly’s voice dripped with a seething rage that sent a chill up Dave's spine.
He didn't bother saying anything, he backed out of the room and went back upstairs to change. He was fucking this up already. He was blowing his last chance to save his ****** and set things right. He needed to calm down and think; all the words that he'd prepared over the last two days had flown out of his mind. He’d rehearsed and practiced and planned, but none of it had come to him when he went into that kitchen. And now they were pissed at him.
He numbly pulled his wrinkled clothes on and made his way back to the kitchen. He had to be brave. Come what may, he had to be strong. For them. “Sit. This is going to be a short talk and I want to get through it without listening to your mindless babbling.” Elly gestured to the seat opposite herself and Miranda. Dave took it with a growing lump in his throat.
“Firstly, fuck you for touching my ********. Words cannot express just how unfathomably pissed I am at you for even considering that. NO!” Elly saw his mouth open to respond and shut him down, “No, Dave. I don't give a shit that you were *****, it's no excuse. You shouldn't have fucking been drinking anyway! What the fuck were you thinking?! On a weeknight?! Fuck. You.”
Dave shrank in his chair. He would never touch Miranda. No matter how lonely he was, no matter how *****, no matter how… pretty she was. But Elly wouldn't hear it. Dave just needed to let her get through it.
“You know, when I married you, I saw a man who was capable of great things. I saw a tender, sweet, caring man with ambition and drive. I saw a man who'd do right by me, by our children. But over these last few years, Dave, that man walked away.”
Dave wanted to explain himself, tell her about the treatments, tell her that the man she loved was still there. “I don't know what happened to the man I loved but frankly, as things are, I don't care anymore. I've tried, Dave. I spent YEARS trying to drag you back up to being the man I needed in my life. I pushed you, I asked you, I begged you. And instead of growing a pair you ASSAULTED MY FUCKING ********?!”
Elly was shaking in her chair and Dave couldn't stop himself from crying. The tears welling up in his eyes blurring the room and stinging. He thought he saw Daniel smirk, but after blinking a few times the young man looked to be on the brink of tears, too.
“The kids and I talked about our options. They grew up in this house, they're still going through school, and you're still… you're still their father.” Even Elly was choking up now. The despair and sadness in her voice tore at Dave's heart. “Miranda, bless her, has chosen to forgive you. As a whole, we've decided that it's still the best thing for this ****** if we remain here, with… you.”
Dave's heart slammed into his throat and he croaked out a racking sob. The relief and gratitude overwhelmed his pain for a brief moment. “But I haven't forgiven you, and I don't know that I can. It will take a lot to earn back the trust you've broken, so with that, I'm laying down some ground rules for my continued participation in this marriage.”
Dave saw his opportunity to start clawing back whatever trust he could, he launched himself at it like a man scrambling for a life raft. “ANYTHING!! I'LL DO ANYTHING! JUST NAME IT! PLEASE!” Surely whatever it was would be better than the torment of her leaving.
“First, we're sleeping in separate rooms, you're clearing your shit out of the master bedroom and you're staying in the guest room. I can't share a bed with you now. Not after what you've done, and not after the years of failed… nights.” Dave nodded; that was a given, he couldn't make love to her anyway and if he needed to give up that space to appease her it was nothing to him.
“Second, I'm opening up our marriage to other people. DAVE IF YOU OPEN YOUR MOUTH AGAIN I WILL WALK OUT THAT DOOR! DO. NOT.” Dave had lurched forward, about to vehemently object to her point but the rage was back and she'd half-risen from her chair. Dave flinched back and his jaw snapped shut.
“This is for my sake, ok? You haven't touched me in years, Dave. I have desires, I have needs, and I just can't continue on without that physical intimacy. I'm sorry but if you want me to stay, I'm seeing other people. This applies to you, too. I still have enough love for you to give you that respect.”
Dave gaped at her. He'd been utterly blindsided by this. Or… had he? The thought had crossed his mind, but he'd never really thought she could do it. But… after what he'd done… so that was it, then. He really would be the reason his wife stepped out on him. Dave imagined her falling into the arms of another man and his heart broke all over again.
But this was his repentance. This was the toll he needed to pay for betraying his ******. Really, if anything, he should be thanking her for not just leaving. If her getting her satisfaction elsewhere meant she would continue to come home to him, to their children… then that was just how it needed to be.
“Third, if I so much as SUSPECT that you did, or are going to do, ANYTHING to my children again… a prison cell won't be where you end up. I mean it, Dave. I'm dead serious. I'm having a contractor come tomorrow to install cameras in every room of this house; if Miranda or Daniel get even so much as a shiver because you're around I'm putting you in a shallow grave. Don't fucking doubt it.”
Dave swallowed but nodded at her. Never again. It would never happen again.
“Lastly, I'll be bringing partners here. I expect you to make yourself scarce whenever they come by. I'll do what I can to give you a heads up about it, but I'd appreciate it if you kept your nose out of my relationships. It'll be a hard adjustment for you, and I'll extend you the same courtesy, but you lost the right to tell me who can come and go when you decided to **** your own fucking ********. Is that understood?”
Dave's mind crumpled. It was one thing to know his wife would be going out to see other men, but to have them come into his home? To be forced to listen to… that? To try to work and live in the same place where his wife was having sex with another man… he couldn't do it. He couldn't. He loved her too much, he couldn't stomach it. Dave retched before turning to the side and spewing out the microwave dinner he'd eaten the night before.
Miranda and Daniel both got up and moved away, making disgusted noises. Something on Daniel clinked, though Dave didn't notice. He doubled over and dry-heaved again as the nausea washed over him again. What if she found someone she wanted to be with more than him? What if one of the men she brought home hurt her? What if he bumped into one of the men in the hall?
Dave's world swam. Distantly he could tell he was hyperventilating. He had to agree to this. If he didn't she would leave him for sure. If he agreed at least there was a chance things could turn around. He would need to double his efforts, cross every t and dot every i. He would need to ensure his entire existence revolved around making sure Elly had all the things she needed. He couldn't give her everything, at least not yet, but he could give her most of it.
“Ugh… seriously? Get your fucking shit together, Dave. This could have been worse for you. Much worse. You're lucky I still… love… you as much as I do. I'll give you a day to get your shit out of my room, I've got a date lined up for tomorrow evening so keep your head down. And please, I'm begging you, don't do anything stupid.”
This was all too much. It was too much too fast. Dave couldn't process it. A date? With who? When had she lined that up? While they were away? Had she been talking to someone longer than that? Why had his kids not said anything? They obviously knew this was coming, but they hadn't said a single thing. He wiped his mouth on the sleeve of his dress shirt and sat back up in the chair, turning to look at his kids.
Miranda looked supremely bored and Daniel looked like he wasn't sure who to look at between himself and his wife. Was Daniel wearing makeup? Was that an… earring? It looked like a small, spade? Miranda, too; hers was on a small chain around her neck; another spade. Finally Dave turned back to his wife. There, around her wrist, a small silver bracelet sat elegantly against her pale skin, a small spade slotted neatly into a fold in the metal.
Matching jewelry? Maybe they'd gone out together while they were away? A bonding trip? Solidarity? He almost asked about them, almost. But then Elly's words snapped into place in his mind and he stared into his wife's beautiful eyes. She still loved him. Even after everything that'd happened, she still loved him. He smiled sadly, trying his best to put on a brave face in spite of his shattering sanity.
“Yeah, ok, I understand. T-thank you, Elly. For staying. For giving me another chance. I won't let you down. I'm sorry, for everything. I'll start moving things today. And, uh, g-good luck on your d… your date…” Dave turned to his children, his beautiful, sweet, innocent children and started crying again. He forced through it.
“G-guys… Miranda, I am so, so sorry. Whatever you need, just… please just let me know. I know… it must be hard to look at me, but… I do love you. Both of you. No matter what, you guys are my world. I'll do anything to prove that to you. I promise.” He tried to smile but could feel his lips turn down at the edges. Daniel looked like he wanted to come over and hug him, but stopped short. The action threw another weight onto Dave's heart. One day… one day he would get to hug his kids again.
Miranda looked down at him with a skeptical eye. But he could see the softness in her face, the care and affection that she'd always held for him. She was his little girl, and always would be, but he'd hurt her in a way he couldn't fix. He understood her reluctance and tried his best not to let it destroy him.
“Alright, we're done here. Daniel and I have an appointment to get to in half an hour so I'm taking the car. Miranda you need to get caught up on your routines since you've missed a couple days.”
Dave perked up at his wife's words, “Oh! I can give you a ride! What kind of appointment is it?” He started to rise from his seat to get the keys but Elly and Daniel shared a look that gave him pause.
“No, that's fine, it's nothing you need to worry about, dear. You have shit to pack and move so focus on that. We'll be back later this afternoon.”
Dave took a moment to look between the two before nodding and turning to the doorway of the kitchen. “Oh, Dave, I've given Miranda a taser so if you have second thoughts about our little talk here, don't expect things to go the way they did before. I'm not taking any chances, you understand, right?”
Dave swallowed and smiled back at his wife. Her threats of skipping the legal process suddenly became very real for Dave and a cold sweat broke out across his neck. “We've each got one, so I need you to try really, really hard not to be a disgusting pervert. I really don't want to have to dig your grave.”
The words were cold. The tone was sugary sweet, and yet Dave was overcome by a primal sense of danger. As though he'd suddenly found himself living in a cage with feral tigers. Any sudden movement, any squeak or twitch or flinch would have them tearing him to pieces before he knew it was happening.
“I'll, uh… I'll be in our-your, room. H-have fun o-out there.” Dave could feel each of their stares on his back as he turned to leave the room once more. It made him feel like sprinting down the hallway to escape the danger. Was this how it was going to be? Feeling like a mouse in his own home? Scurrying from room to room, trying not to be seen? But… Elly had come back. For better or worse, Elly had come back to him. He would make this work. He had to.
-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-
Elly watched Dave shuffle out of the room and blew out a breath. "He fucking bought it. I can't believe he actually fucking bought that. He's a bigger loser than I thought. God knows what I saw in that sack of shit."
Daniel chuckled and shrugged, "He's white. Honestly, we've never been humanities best."
Miranda chirped from where she stood, "You got that right, guy can't even stand up for himself. He didn't even fucking touch me and yet he's just rolling over and taking it. It's actually super gross."
Elly shivered with exaggerated disgust, "Ugh, whatever, that's done now. He knows the score and we've got some room to breathe. Devon wants this house as a new drop point for his business so we're going to have to play things safe for a while. I'll keep doing what I can to beat some sense into that pudgy white fuck, but don't be scared to rattle his cage a bit, too. We've got three hundred pounds of weed showing up sometime this evening so you're on deck, Em."
Miranda smiled, "I hope he's cute, and hung."
Elly shook her head, "Yeah, yeah just remember to fuck him AFTER you scale the dope. I'm not fucking this up on the first day because my ******** couldn't keep a dick out of her cunt long enough to weigh some weed."
MIranda rolled her eyes and stuck her tongue out. Elly turned her attention to her son, "Ready to make some money? We've got twenty pounds to sell and two pickups to make, if we factor in time for sex at each of the pickups we might just get back before midnight. Gonna need your game-face, babydoll."
Daniel nodded somewhat nervously, "Hopefully this works out, I think it'll be really good for us if we can get in on the ground floor. If we do this right, and keep Devon close, we won't need Da-I mean, Dave, for very long."
Elly nodded back, "That's the plan; get in, make money, ditch the loser. The better we do this, the faster we can get rid of him. With enough cash we can just pay for professionals to raise our kids properly instead of having that spineless bitch rubbing off on them. I don't know about you guys, but the thought of that man caring for my kids now just fucks me up."
her children nodded in agreement and they set out to accomplish their goals. Soon, their house would be a hub for the trafficking operation Devon was building. Elly had played her cards exactly how she needed to, but she still had a ways to go before securing a better future for her children. It wasn't enough. She needed to keep pushing, keep fighting, keep taking. Devon was still the best shot she had at making that happen.
she looked up the stairs as she and Daniel passed by on the way to the front door. Dave had no fucking clue what was coming. The limp-dicked idiot wouldn't even see it coming, when it happened. Elly would need to make sure she asked for a recording of it. She needed to watch it happen, she needed to see it for herself when they came for him. And they would come, she would make damn sure of that.
Ch. 04 From Grave To Cradle
Elly flipped through the most recent pages of her ledger, parsing the details of transactions going back months. She smiled to herself, absently rubbing the growing swell of her stomach. It'd been 4 months since the start of their little operation and things had gone far better than she'd dreamed it would. Devon was a rising power in not just their neighborhood, but the city as a whole.
His intelligence and brutality had led others to quickly flock around him in a bid to ride his coattails to glory. Elly had been there from the start, though. Serving as a loyal and dedicated member of Devon’s core team. Deal after deal, raid after raid, Elly had been right there watching, coordinating, and even sometimes participating in the steady expansion of his burgeoning empire.
Daniel and Miranda, too, had served as drug mules, prostitutes, negotiators, and when it was called for, enforcers. Yes, Elly was incredibly proud of her children for how earnestly they'd dedicated themselves to the success of their owner. And now, looking down at the pages and pages of transactions, she knew the time had come to cut her pathetic husband loose.
Dave, for his part, had done just about everything in his power to win Elly back. He'd never said a word about the numerous Black men coming and going from the house. He hadn't questioned where they went for days at a time, he'd dutifully submitted himself to just about every whim Elly, or her children, could think of.
There had been a night where Elly had felt like being particularly nasty to the sad, irrelevant white loser. She couldn't quite remember what it had been that made her want to twist the knife a little deeper but she'd ended up sending Dave a text while Deshawn, a lovely stud who'd taken a liking to her, was balls deep inside her pussy.
She had sent him a very vaguely worded text, something along the lines of: “Dave, I need you, come to my room right now.” And then told Deshawn to fuck her against the bedroom door. When Dave had come knocking, Elly had opened it while Deshawn continued to plow her unprotected pussy. She could still remember the look of abject horror and pain Dave had plastered across his face, it made her cum so fucking hard.
She had tried her best to act sheepish, apologizing for bringing him to the room like that, but she needed him to run out and buy a couple boxes of magnums because they'd run out and Deshawn didn't want her giving birth to his bastard. That had been a lie, of course, none of the men Elly slept with had ever so much as touched a condom around her. She had already been pregnant for months and even if she wasn't there was no way she'd be using the racist, latex abominations.
She remembered watching Dave's face twist up like he'd been punched in the stomach. Deshawn never stopped bouncing her on his cock, making sure the slap of their hips was loud enough to echo down the hall as Dave worked through the shame and embarrassment. She remembered teasing him, telling him that every moment he wasted as another moment she might accidentally become pregnant. Dave had gone off like a shot, out into the night to buy them condoms they would never use. Utterly pathetic.
But the time had finally come to end Dave's participation in her life completely. The children were basically set for life, Elly had more money than she really knew what to do with, and Devon was poised to become one of the most powerful men in the game. It'd been grueling work; intense and exhausting from start to finish. Being one of Devon's main drop points had put them all in the crosshairs of some incredibly well-connected, and well-armed people.
Elly had lost entire nights to the worry. Unable to sleep due to the fear of waking up to a burning house or the burglar alarm sounding. She'd taken to sleeping with a Springfield Echelon under her pillow just in case. She'd only ever used it twice and in both cases it'd been during a deal-gone-wrong. It wasn't often that buyers would grow a big head about taking the goods AND money, but it did happen. Thankfully Devon's crew were experienced and had access to incredible equipment.
She hated the body armor she needed to wear for those exchanges. She always felt like she was suffocating under it. But the operation had grown well outside the scope of her modest two story bungalow and their time spent distributing Devon's dope was being wrapped up. Elly was glad for it; she couldn't have kept up for much longer with the growing needs of her child.
Miranda was slowly being phased out of operations as well as she'd been blessed with twins by one of the random men that'd used her. Elly imagined it was likely during their first orgy, but Miranda hadn't bothered taking a test until her morning sickness had come around so they really couldn't say. Daniel had proven to be one of the most proficient dealers on the team, week after week he would pull staggering numbers; almost doubling Elly's sales in the past month.
She'd asked him how he did it and had only gotten a wink in response. Daniel had taken to living as a woman full time, though still preferred his male pronouns. Elly always enjoyed the slightly perplexed looks Daniel got when the men around him found out he wasn't actually a woman. It was almost impossible to tell unless he spoke or took his pants off. The hormones had really hit Daniel hard, redistributing his body fat and softening his already feminine features into the depths of womanhood.
He'd managed to pick up a boyfriend during their time spent working with Devon. A lovely boy named Darrell who had become smitten with Daniel's flirty but reserved nature. It definitely helped that Daniel was the first person to ever take the entire length of Darrell's cock. Elly remembered a time not so long ago where she'd only ever managed to get half of Devon's cock wet with any of her holes. How things had changed…
She flipped the ledger shut with a muted thump and got to her feet, mindful to keep her stomach from bumping the edge of the desk. She was still getting used to the added girth where there had always been flat, rigid abs. She glanced at the clock and saw that it was nearly 9:00pm, Devon's cleaners would be setting up in a few minutes and Dave would need to be corralled into them. Before 10:00pm.
She exited her room and made her way downstairs. Dave had not had a very good time in the house. Despite his best efforts to keep to himself, trouble seemed to come knocking for him more often than anyone Elly had ever met. The stupid bitch had been hospitalized on three separate occasions for walking in on her and her ******** having sex. Though, to be fair, one of those times he'd been lured into it by Miranda because she thought it'd be funny.
Maurice and a man she never got the name of had been taking turns stuffing their holes during a particularly intense coke-fueled bender. Miranda had sent a text telling Dave she needed help lifting something in Elly’s room and to just come straight in. Poor bastard didn't even have time to apologize before both Maurice and the other man were laying into him.
They'd left him on the floor and resumed fucking like nothing had happened. There was something deeply satisfying for Elly to listen to the man's moans and cries as she came again and again in their marital bed. They'd dragged him to the hospital the next morning and left him there to find his own way home. Elly was just glad the doctors were so overworked and under-staffed they never bothered to follow up on why Dave was falling down so many flights of stairs.
Sadly, tonight would be Dave's last “accident”. The poor, defenseless man would be unceremoniously gunned down in a mugging by a couple of wanted felons from the next city over. The guns had been scrubbed, video and surveillance leading to and from the crime scene had been disabled or vandalized, and all communication regarding the act had been verbal. No records of the hit would ever be uncovered and the two men directly involved would be skipping town.
Ballistics and forensics would never lead anywhere since the serial numbers had been removed from the guns and they would be wearing Tyvek suits. Elly and her children had long since retained some of the best lawyers the city had to offer and would be bringing them in on all discussions with the police. All in all, Dave would ultimately end up another tragic statistic to be tallied up on the city's ever-growing list of unsolved crimes.
Truly, such a terrible and despicable thing to happen to such a good and righteous man! Oh if only God had seen fit to intervene and prevent such a heartless crime! If only the city hadn't been so rife with the seedy nerdowells roaming the alleys! Yes, Dave was surely the victim of those dastardly immigrants! The vicious, greedy, violent, manly, attractive, gorgeous immigrants!
Elly chuckled to herself as she came to the door of Dave's room. She'd made a habit of visiting him often over the past few months to normalize the pattern. Requesting he make various trips to collect one item or another. It wouldn't do for him to grow suspicious of her showing up out of the blue and asking him to leave the house for something trivial.
Knocking, she gently called out to him but when he didn't answer she opened the door and stepped in. Dave had taken to wearing headphones during most of his time at home. Listening to his ****** fucking all over the house had apparently been uncomfortable for the man and it annoyed Elly that she needed to step into his disgusting squalor in order to get his attention.
The room had slowly turned into more of a rat's nest than a room. Empty takeout containers lined the tables and shelves and clothes lay strewn about the floor. Books were scattered across whatever space was left and next to the bed, Dave sat in a recliner watching some kind of sports broadcast on the t.v he'd mounted to the wall.
Elly’s nose wrinkled as she attempted to pick her way through the garbage. Dave had withdrawn from using most other parts of the house, likely in fear of being beaten for seeing something he shouldn't. Elly had a cleaner come once a week to tidy things and do Dave's laundry. The last thing she needed was the smell to distract one of her lovers or draw unwanted attention.
Dave finally caught the sound of her kicking over a stack of books and whirled in his seat to face her. He still had a bit of a black eye, and his nose was crooked where it had been broken several months ago. He looked haggard, tired, broken down on an almost fundamental level. But when he saw that it was Elly his face brightened and some hopeful youth returned to it.
It reminded Elly of a documentary she'd seen about an abandoned dog being reunited with the ****** that had deserted it. It didn't understand what they had done, or why. It was just happy to see the people it loved again. That was Dave, not understanding what she was doing, but happy to see her nonetheless. The comparison did nothing for Elly, though. Whatever love she might have once had for the man had long since been lost.
“Elly! Y-you didn't text! I'm sorry, if I'd known you were coming…” Dave tried to even out his shirt as he stood to address her.
Elly shook her head and let out an exasperated sigh, “Dave, we've talked about this. You can't have those headphones on when we're home, if something happened to us you'd never know. Christ, if the house was on fire you'd go down with it. I know you don't like hearing what's going on around you but believe it or not I actually care about your well being and I'd never forgive myself if something happened to you because of those damn headphones.”
Dave looked abashed, scratching at the back of his head, “I know, El, I know. I just… hearing you… hearing Miranda like… that. I haven't gotten used to it. I don't know if I can, really. I'll try to be better about it, ok? I promise.”
Elly tried to give him what she thought might look like a warm smile. It was hard to gauge when she was talking to Dave, mainly she only ever wanted to scowl at him, “That's all I ask, Dave. Try to consider how I feel once in a while. I already do so much to look after you here and it hurts when you don't listen to me.” She was getting relatively decent at gaslighting him like this. The euphoric sense of dismantling his ability to think clearly flushed Elly's crotch with a familiar warmth.
“I do, Elly! I always do. I'm sorry if it doesn't come across like that. But.. uh, what brings you down here? My rent isn't due for a couple days still and I already lent you what I had left in my account…”
Elly tried to keep from smiling as she took on a stricken expression, “Is that what you think I'm here for? Your money? Dave, you're my husband, I'm not some gold digger that's only after money. That hurts me when you assume things like that, why can't I just be a wife looking to rely on her husband every now and then?”
Dave once again looked chagrined as he considered the situation, “Ah… sorry, El. It's just… I mean these past few months… I've been trying really hard to keep my chin up you know? The… people-the men-you bring here, they… uh…” He struggled to find the words to express his unhappiness. Elly tried to keep herself from impatiently telling him to spit it out. Now wasn't the time.
“It's not right. How they treat you, what they do… I've… heard them, you know? How they talk to you, how they… how they hit you, and our children. I don't care so much about me, I know I deserve it for what I did. But when they hurt you and our ********… I just…” Dave was trembling slightly as he seemed to summon some level of rage from within.
Elly shook her head, “I know, Dave. It must be hard for you to hear all that, but you have to understand that they're all incredibly strong men. They're used to getting their way and taking what they want. They’re headstrong and self-assured, confident, aggressive, and competitive.” Elly had to stop herself or she was going to get even wetter than she already was. It was hard not to gush over the beautiful men she had dedicated her body to.
“But we raised a strong ******. Our children are both very capable and can handle their rough-and-tumble nature. We're all going to be just fine, besides, they wouldn't do anything to risk my-our… baby.” Elly rubbed her round stomach as an emphasis to her words.
Dave pinned his eyes to her abdomen and nervously licked his lips, “Y-yeah, our… baby. Right. Yeah, you're right. Uh… H-has it, you know? S-started moving?” Dave sounded incredibly conflicted over the prospect of having to raise someone else's child. Elly had no doubt in her mind the dickless bitch would have taken on the responsibility if she'd made him.
After a month of running drugs through their house Elly had let Dave know that she'd been impregnated. He'd actually cried when she broke the news, asking how they were going to support it, who the father was, when it had happened, who would raise it. Elly had regretted telling him almost immediately, but like a true diplomat she'd managed to muddle through the confession without arbitrarily murdering Dave. Elly was still pretty proud of herself for that.
“Dave, as much as I enjoy these talks, and want you to be involved in our baby's development, I didn't come down here to chit chat. I need your help with something important. Business here is wrapping up and we're getting ready to officially move over to the warehouse on Delman Street. This is the last push and I need to make sure things are taken care of here.”
Elly fixed Dave with a serious look, hoping she was getting a good mix of puppy dog-eyes in for effect, “The kids are busy studying, and most of the crew is already out there setting up so I have no one else to turn to. You've always been so reliable, and I've done everything I could to try to keep you from getting involved in the stuff they're doing, but I just don't have any other options I trust now.”
Elly could literally watch the ambition come back into Dave's broken face as she spoke. The bolstered confidence, the relief at being acknowledged, the determination to live up to expectations. Elly knew that she had hooked Dave so completely that she probably could have told him he was about to be jumped and he would still go.
“There's a package that needs to be picked up from a drop site just off Miller and Kent. It'll be a brown paper package, it'll be tucked up against the far wall of the 24hr VHS rental shop. Literally the only thing you need to do is grab the package and come back here. That's it. I'm not asking you to talk to anyone, I'm not asking you to deliver anything, I'm not asking you to go to a building or apartment. All you need to do is go there, grab the package and come back.”
Elly kept her lip from twitching in disgust as Dave's nostrils flared. The man's chest puffed up and he smiled proudly, “I can do it. Not a problem at all. I'll have it done lightning quick. I can go right now, if you need me to?”
Elly grinned ear to ear, though it was a bit more predatory than she'd intended. This was it. She'd done it. She'd actually gone through with it. Up until that point it had been pure speculation, she wasn't even sure she could bring herself to march someone directly to their death, but here it was. Dave was going to walk out that door and never walk back through it.
She stared into his big, dumb, oblivious eyes and her grin became more genuine. Regardless of how she felt now, there had been a time when she had loved this man. She remembered their first kiss, awkward and sloppy. Their teeth had clacked together and they'd both laughed over how stupid they were.
She remembered their first date at the water park, riding around on his shoulders in the wave pool, racing him down the water slides and sneaking into the washrooms to make out. Elly had just betrayed that man. That smiling, happy, innocent man had put his trust in her, bound his life to her, and she had just put a knife into him. It thrilled her. Elly could feel her heart beating a staccato rhythm in her temples.
The raw power of holding his life in her hands was intoxicating. She was a God to him. An almighty deity, capable of either granting life or ripping it away. She could feel her cheeks flush as a growing warmth began to soak through her thong.
“Yes, the faster you can get it done the better that would be for us. I know it's been hard for you with all the people coming and going; once the warehouse is up and running we shouldn't have so many guests.”
True hope came into Dave's face and Elly couldn't remember the last time the man had looked so alive. Just a little more, Elly just needed a little more of this before he was gone. Dave grabbed his jacket from beneath a stack of books and brushed past her for the door. Elly stopped him with a hand on the cuff of his shirt. Clinging to it gently, as though not sure whether or not to let him go.
“Dave?” It was a quiet question. Dave turned back and took in her blushing face with half-lidded eyes.
“Yeah, El?”
Elly looked up into his eyes with a genuine passion. It wasn't hard to channel her arousal into the expression with how fucking turned on she was, “thank you… for everything. For doing this for me. It really makes me see you in a… better light.”
Dave turned to fully face her, a myriad of emotions storming across his face as the affection dug deep into his mind. “Elly…” he made to embrace her, taking a step towards her and sweeping his arms out to encircle her body. Elly instinctually blocked the attempt, bringing her arms up to keep him from getting any closer. She hadn't meant to, hadn't even been aware that she was going to, but the thought of having Dave touch her like that had automatically initiated her fight or flight response.
The idea of having any kind of actual intimacy with Dave was so deeply, viscerally disgusting that her body had reacted to it like putting a hand in boiling water. She scrambled to not make it awkward. Tried to salvage the mood she'd so meticulously crafted. “Not now, silly! You have something important to do! But… but when you get back… come meet me, ok? In my room. Just us. Alright?”
Dave's jaw swung open and in an instant he forgot all about her horrified rejection of his advance. Dave was out the door less than a minute later and Elly had almost literally dragged the two closest men upstairs to her room in order to work out the insane lust she was experiencing. She needed them to destroy her. She absolutely needed to be stuffed full of dick during the next twenty minutes.
-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-
“Thanks Mrs. Geltan. I know this is an incredibly hard time for you. Dave was an incredible man and we're going to miss him at the office. I appreciate you inviting us out to the funeral so we can say our goodbyes. If you ever need anything at all please let us know.”
A man Elly had never met before gently shook her hand as he rambled on about her stupid ex-husband. She'd been forced to sit through no less than 9 eulogies for Dave and she was just about coming to her wits end. It was bad enough she'd had to blow Maurice in the church bathroom in order to get her mascara to run, but now everyone felt the need to tell her personally what a fantastic man her clueless loser of a husband had been.
She glanced over to Miranda who was currently leading her SECOND stud to the bathroom for yet another quicky. That cunt was going to get an earful when they got back to the house, she could at least share the burden of listening to all these whiny pussies like Daniel was. Her wonderful son had much better luck turning on the waterworks than she had, and was currently hugging Mrs. Borden from down their street.
The last week had been a fucking nightmare to coordinate and schedule. Elly felt like she'd spent more time on the phone than off it, which would have been fine for the most part if the police hadn't been constantly harassing her. She'd requested all communication to go through her lawyer but the persistent bastards apparently enjoyed pushing her buttons.
She'd played it cool, though. Every bit the desperately traumatized wife that she needed to be. She'd made no less than 30 calls to the department demanding updates on the case. Where were the people who did this? Why haven't you caught them? What are you doing? Work faster! Check the cameras again! What do you mean there's no evidence?! And so on.
It was clear from the start that the police had almost immediately written it off as an escalated robbery. There were no witnesses, there was no footage, there was no physical evidence, Elly and her ****** had alibis along with everyone else the cops could think of that might want to do Dave harm. The case was going nowhere fast and it was only a matter of time before it went cold.
Elly worried slightly that giving birth to Devon's child a few months after her husband was brutally gunned down in the vacant lot of a video rental place might look bad. The police might have various questions related to motive, but her lawyers had assured her any potential questions wouldn't be enough to base the case on. And if push came to shove, Elly would just admit that Dave had a fetish for cuckolding and Devon’s child was a result of their lifestyle.
Who was going to correct that story? Dave? Fat chance he could manage it from his prolonged dirt-nap. Elly caught the eye of Maurice and he shifted his pants to make his bulge more visible. Elly needed this to be over. She was tired of saying thank you to all the well-wishers and if she heard the word “condolences” again she was pretty sure she would gouge someone's eyes out.
Daniel came up beside her and grabbed her hand, politely excusing her from the conversation she wasn't really listening to in order to pull her away. “It's only another two hours, just try to hang in there. I don't want to be here any more than you do but if you keep glaring at the guests like that, people are going to get the wrong idea.” He pulled her into a hug to help keep them from being overheard.
“We tied up our loose ends with the two goons. It was clean and easy. Once we ride this out we'll be free and clear and can spend the rest of our lives living a good and proper life for our superiors. Ham it up a bit, you haven't stopped by his casket to say goodbye yet, either. People will only believe it's hard for you to face him for so long before it starts to get uncomfortable. Just don't spit on it when you go up there or shit will get real weird, alright?”
Elly smiled behind the black veil covering her face. She really loved Daniel. The boy had a knack for bringing her back to center whenever she started to spiral. She kissed him on the forehead and thanked him before moving back into the crowd to resume being a devastated widow. Dave's life insurance payout just barely made the boredom tolerable.
-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-
Miranda huffed as she adjusted her position for the third time. No one had explained to her just how uncomfortable it would be to feed a child. She was pretty sure her ass was going numb and the stares from the people passing by made her feel naked. Dwayne was a greedy baby, and her nipples were still struggling to keep up with the constant gumming they were subjected to.
She swaddled her beautiful baby boy a little closer to her chest as he finally latched. She looked out on the busy mall around her, watching couples and children pass by on their way to some boutique or another. Her mother had dragged Daniel into yet another bridal gown store to try on dresses and Miranda had stepped out to feed her child.
Both of them had been shocked when Daniel explained that Darrell had proposed to him. All the same, Miranda was proud of her brother for finding someone. She'd considered settling with one of the dozen men constantly trying to lock her down but ultimately couldn't commit to just one. She knew, much like her mother, that she belonged to the streets. Devon had seemed intent on making her his personal bitch, but like with her mother, he’d ditched her for another woman after only a few months.
Instead, Miranda had hooked up with one of Devon’s partners and now made her rounds between the dealers' various dens as a free-use slut. Admittedly her nanny spent more time with Dwayne than she did, but there wasn't anything to be done about that. The men needed her, and she desperately needed them. She knew her child was well cared for and money would never be a concern of hers again so she had no regrets about her current life.
Elly had slowed down after Tyrell was born. Devon had pulled her mother back into his orbit in order to keep his child close and from what Miranda knew there were something like 20-30 men fighting for her next child. She hadn't actually seen the numbers, but the bets on who's kid she had next were creeping into the hundreds of thousands.
Miranda gently rocked her son as he suckled. The spades on the ends of her earrings jingled lightly as she moved. She hoped all the losers walking by were getting a good look at what their future would be filled with. She would certainly be doing her part to make it a reality, by any means necessary.
His intelligence and brutality had led others to quickly flock around him in a bid to ride his coattails to glory. Elly had been there from the start, though. Serving as a loyal and dedicated member of Devon’s core team. Deal after deal, raid after raid, Elly had been right there watching, coordinating, and even sometimes participating in the steady expansion of his burgeoning empire.
Daniel and Miranda, too, had served as drug mules, prostitutes, negotiators, and when it was called for, enforcers. Yes, Elly was incredibly proud of her children for how earnestly they'd dedicated themselves to the success of their owner. And now, looking down at the pages and pages of transactions, she knew the time had come to cut her pathetic husband loose.
Dave, for his part, had done just about everything in his power to win Elly back. He'd never said a word about the numerous Black men coming and going from the house. He hadn't questioned where they went for days at a time, he'd dutifully submitted himself to just about every whim Elly, or her children, could think of.
There had been a night where Elly had felt like being particularly nasty to the sad, irrelevant white loser. She couldn't quite remember what it had been that made her want to twist the knife a little deeper but she'd ended up sending Dave a text while Deshawn, a lovely stud who'd taken a liking to her, was balls deep inside her pussy.
She had sent him a very vaguely worded text, something along the lines of: “Dave, I need you, come to my room right now.” And then told Deshawn to fuck her against the bedroom door. When Dave had come knocking, Elly had opened it while Deshawn continued to plow her unprotected pussy. She could still remember the look of abject horror and pain Dave had plastered across his face, it made her cum so fucking hard.
She had tried her best to act sheepish, apologizing for bringing him to the room like that, but she needed him to run out and buy a couple boxes of magnums because they'd run out and Deshawn didn't want her giving birth to his bastard. That had been a lie, of course, none of the men Elly slept with had ever so much as touched a condom around her. She had already been pregnant for months and even if she wasn't there was no way she'd be using the racist, latex abominations.
She remembered watching Dave's face twist up like he'd been punched in the stomach. Deshawn never stopped bouncing her on his cock, making sure the slap of their hips was loud enough to echo down the hall as Dave worked through the shame and embarrassment. She remembered teasing him, telling him that every moment he wasted as another moment she might accidentally become pregnant. Dave had gone off like a shot, out into the night to buy them condoms they would never use. Utterly pathetic.
But the time had finally come to end Dave's participation in her life completely. The children were basically set for life, Elly had more money than she really knew what to do with, and Devon was poised to become one of the most powerful men in the game. It'd been grueling work; intense and exhausting from start to finish. Being one of Devon's main drop points had put them all in the crosshairs of some incredibly well-connected, and well-armed people.
Elly had lost entire nights to the worry. Unable to sleep due to the fear of waking up to a burning house or the burglar alarm sounding. She'd taken to sleeping with a Springfield Echelon under her pillow just in case. She'd only ever used it twice and in both cases it'd been during a deal-gone-wrong. It wasn't often that buyers would grow a big head about taking the goods AND money, but it did happen. Thankfully Devon's crew were experienced and had access to incredible equipment.
She hated the body armor she needed to wear for those exchanges. She always felt like she was suffocating under it. But the operation had grown well outside the scope of her modest two story bungalow and their time spent distributing Devon's dope was being wrapped up. Elly was glad for it; she couldn't have kept up for much longer with the growing needs of her child.
Miranda was slowly being phased out of operations as well as she'd been blessed with twins by one of the random men that'd used her. Elly imagined it was likely during their first orgy, but Miranda hadn't bothered taking a test until her morning sickness had come around so they really couldn't say. Daniel had proven to be one of the most proficient dealers on the team, week after week he would pull staggering numbers; almost doubling Elly's sales in the past month.
She'd asked him how he did it and had only gotten a wink in response. Daniel had taken to living as a woman full time, though still preferred his male pronouns. Elly always enjoyed the slightly perplexed looks Daniel got when the men around him found out he wasn't actually a woman. It was almost impossible to tell unless he spoke or took his pants off. The hormones had really hit Daniel hard, redistributing his body fat and softening his already feminine features into the depths of womanhood.
He'd managed to pick up a boyfriend during their time spent working with Devon. A lovely boy named Darrell who had become smitten with Daniel's flirty but reserved nature. It definitely helped that Daniel was the first person to ever take the entire length of Darrell's cock. Elly remembered a time not so long ago where she'd only ever managed to get half of Devon's cock wet with any of her holes. How things had changed…
She flipped the ledger shut with a muted thump and got to her feet, mindful to keep her stomach from bumping the edge of the desk. She was still getting used to the added girth where there had always been flat, rigid abs. She glanced at the clock and saw that it was nearly 9:00pm, Devon's cleaners would be setting up in a few minutes and Dave would need to be corralled into them. Before 10:00pm.
She exited her room and made her way downstairs. Dave had not had a very good time in the house. Despite his best efforts to keep to himself, trouble seemed to come knocking for him more often than anyone Elly had ever met. The stupid bitch had been hospitalized on three separate occasions for walking in on her and her ******** having sex. Though, to be fair, one of those times he'd been lured into it by Miranda because she thought it'd be funny.
Maurice and a man she never got the name of had been taking turns stuffing their holes during a particularly intense coke-fueled bender. Miranda had sent a text telling Dave she needed help lifting something in Elly’s room and to just come straight in. Poor bastard didn't even have time to apologize before both Maurice and the other man were laying into him.
They'd left him on the floor and resumed fucking like nothing had happened. There was something deeply satisfying for Elly to listen to the man's moans and cries as she came again and again in their marital bed. They'd dragged him to the hospital the next morning and left him there to find his own way home. Elly was just glad the doctors were so overworked and under-staffed they never bothered to follow up on why Dave was falling down so many flights of stairs.
Sadly, tonight would be Dave's last “accident”. The poor, defenseless man would be unceremoniously gunned down in a mugging by a couple of wanted felons from the next city over. The guns had been scrubbed, video and surveillance leading to and from the crime scene had been disabled or vandalized, and all communication regarding the act had been verbal. No records of the hit would ever be uncovered and the two men directly involved would be skipping town.
Ballistics and forensics would never lead anywhere since the serial numbers had been removed from the guns and they would be wearing Tyvek suits. Elly and her children had long since retained some of the best lawyers the city had to offer and would be bringing them in on all discussions with the police. All in all, Dave would ultimately end up another tragic statistic to be tallied up on the city's ever-growing list of unsolved crimes.
Truly, such a terrible and despicable thing to happen to such a good and righteous man! Oh if only God had seen fit to intervene and prevent such a heartless crime! If only the city hadn't been so rife with the seedy nerdowells roaming the alleys! Yes, Dave was surely the victim of those dastardly immigrants! The vicious, greedy, violent, manly, attractive, gorgeous immigrants!
Elly chuckled to herself as she came to the door of Dave's room. She'd made a habit of visiting him often over the past few months to normalize the pattern. Requesting he make various trips to collect one item or another. It wouldn't do for him to grow suspicious of her showing up out of the blue and asking him to leave the house for something trivial.
Knocking, she gently called out to him but when he didn't answer she opened the door and stepped in. Dave had taken to wearing headphones during most of his time at home. Listening to his ****** fucking all over the house had apparently been uncomfortable for the man and it annoyed Elly that she needed to step into his disgusting squalor in order to get his attention.
The room had slowly turned into more of a rat's nest than a room. Empty takeout containers lined the tables and shelves and clothes lay strewn about the floor. Books were scattered across whatever space was left and next to the bed, Dave sat in a recliner watching some kind of sports broadcast on the t.v he'd mounted to the wall.
Elly’s nose wrinkled as she attempted to pick her way through the garbage. Dave had withdrawn from using most other parts of the house, likely in fear of being beaten for seeing something he shouldn't. Elly had a cleaner come once a week to tidy things and do Dave's laundry. The last thing she needed was the smell to distract one of her lovers or draw unwanted attention.
Dave finally caught the sound of her kicking over a stack of books and whirled in his seat to face her. He still had a bit of a black eye, and his nose was crooked where it had been broken several months ago. He looked haggard, tired, broken down on an almost fundamental level. But when he saw that it was Elly his face brightened and some hopeful youth returned to it.
It reminded Elly of a documentary she'd seen about an abandoned dog being reunited with the ****** that had deserted it. It didn't understand what they had done, or why. It was just happy to see the people it loved again. That was Dave, not understanding what she was doing, but happy to see her nonetheless. The comparison did nothing for Elly, though. Whatever love she might have once had for the man had long since been lost.
“Elly! Y-you didn't text! I'm sorry, if I'd known you were coming…” Dave tried to even out his shirt as he stood to address her.
Elly shook her head and let out an exasperated sigh, “Dave, we've talked about this. You can't have those headphones on when we're home, if something happened to us you'd never know. Christ, if the house was on fire you'd go down with it. I know you don't like hearing what's going on around you but believe it or not I actually care about your well being and I'd never forgive myself if something happened to you because of those damn headphones.”
Dave looked abashed, scratching at the back of his head, “I know, El, I know. I just… hearing you… hearing Miranda like… that. I haven't gotten used to it. I don't know if I can, really. I'll try to be better about it, ok? I promise.”
Elly tried to give him what she thought might look like a warm smile. It was hard to gauge when she was talking to Dave, mainly she only ever wanted to scowl at him, “That's all I ask, Dave. Try to consider how I feel once in a while. I already do so much to look after you here and it hurts when you don't listen to me.” She was getting relatively decent at gaslighting him like this. The euphoric sense of dismantling his ability to think clearly flushed Elly's crotch with a familiar warmth.
“I do, Elly! I always do. I'm sorry if it doesn't come across like that. But.. uh, what brings you down here? My rent isn't due for a couple days still and I already lent you what I had left in my account…”
Elly tried to keep from smiling as she took on a stricken expression, “Is that what you think I'm here for? Your money? Dave, you're my husband, I'm not some gold digger that's only after money. That hurts me when you assume things like that, why can't I just be a wife looking to rely on her husband every now and then?”
Dave once again looked chagrined as he considered the situation, “Ah… sorry, El. It's just… I mean these past few months… I've been trying really hard to keep my chin up you know? The… people-the men-you bring here, they… uh…” He struggled to find the words to express his unhappiness. Elly tried to keep herself from impatiently telling him to spit it out. Now wasn't the time.
“It's not right. How they treat you, what they do… I've… heard them, you know? How they talk to you, how they… how they hit you, and our children. I don't care so much about me, I know I deserve it for what I did. But when they hurt you and our ********… I just…” Dave was trembling slightly as he seemed to summon some level of rage from within.
Elly shook her head, “I know, Dave. It must be hard for you to hear all that, but you have to understand that they're all incredibly strong men. They're used to getting their way and taking what they want. They’re headstrong and self-assured, confident, aggressive, and competitive.” Elly had to stop herself or she was going to get even wetter than she already was. It was hard not to gush over the beautiful men she had dedicated her body to.
“But we raised a strong ******. Our children are both very capable and can handle their rough-and-tumble nature. We're all going to be just fine, besides, they wouldn't do anything to risk my-our… baby.” Elly rubbed her round stomach as an emphasis to her words.
Dave pinned his eyes to her abdomen and nervously licked his lips, “Y-yeah, our… baby. Right. Yeah, you're right. Uh… H-has it, you know? S-started moving?” Dave sounded incredibly conflicted over the prospect of having to raise someone else's child. Elly had no doubt in her mind the dickless bitch would have taken on the responsibility if she'd made him.
After a month of running drugs through their house Elly had let Dave know that she'd been impregnated. He'd actually cried when she broke the news, asking how they were going to support it, who the father was, when it had happened, who would raise it. Elly had regretted telling him almost immediately, but like a true diplomat she'd managed to muddle through the confession without arbitrarily murdering Dave. Elly was still pretty proud of herself for that.
“Dave, as much as I enjoy these talks, and want you to be involved in our baby's development, I didn't come down here to chit chat. I need your help with something important. Business here is wrapping up and we're getting ready to officially move over to the warehouse on Delman Street. This is the last push and I need to make sure things are taken care of here.”
Elly fixed Dave with a serious look, hoping she was getting a good mix of puppy dog-eyes in for effect, “The kids are busy studying, and most of the crew is already out there setting up so I have no one else to turn to. You've always been so reliable, and I've done everything I could to try to keep you from getting involved in the stuff they're doing, but I just don't have any other options I trust now.”
Elly could literally watch the ambition come back into Dave's broken face as she spoke. The bolstered confidence, the relief at being acknowledged, the determination to live up to expectations. Elly knew that she had hooked Dave so completely that she probably could have told him he was about to be jumped and he would still go.
“There's a package that needs to be picked up from a drop site just off Miller and Kent. It'll be a brown paper package, it'll be tucked up against the far wall of the 24hr VHS rental shop. Literally the only thing you need to do is grab the package and come back here. That's it. I'm not asking you to talk to anyone, I'm not asking you to deliver anything, I'm not asking you to go to a building or apartment. All you need to do is go there, grab the package and come back.”
Elly kept her lip from twitching in disgust as Dave's nostrils flared. The man's chest puffed up and he smiled proudly, “I can do it. Not a problem at all. I'll have it done lightning quick. I can go right now, if you need me to?”
Elly grinned ear to ear, though it was a bit more predatory than she'd intended. This was it. She'd done it. She'd actually gone through with it. Up until that point it had been pure speculation, she wasn't even sure she could bring herself to march someone directly to their death, but here it was. Dave was going to walk out that door and never walk back through it.
She stared into his big, dumb, oblivious eyes and her grin became more genuine. Regardless of how she felt now, there had been a time when she had loved this man. She remembered their first kiss, awkward and sloppy. Their teeth had clacked together and they'd both laughed over how stupid they were.
She remembered their first date at the water park, riding around on his shoulders in the wave pool, racing him down the water slides and sneaking into the washrooms to make out. Elly had just betrayed that man. That smiling, happy, innocent man had put his trust in her, bound his life to her, and she had just put a knife into him. It thrilled her. Elly could feel her heart beating a staccato rhythm in her temples.
The raw power of holding his life in her hands was intoxicating. She was a God to him. An almighty deity, capable of either granting life or ripping it away. She could feel her cheeks flush as a growing warmth began to soak through her thong.
“Yes, the faster you can get it done the better that would be for us. I know it's been hard for you with all the people coming and going; once the warehouse is up and running we shouldn't have so many guests.”
True hope came into Dave's face and Elly couldn't remember the last time the man had looked so alive. Just a little more, Elly just needed a little more of this before he was gone. Dave grabbed his jacket from beneath a stack of books and brushed past her for the door. Elly stopped him with a hand on the cuff of his shirt. Clinging to it gently, as though not sure whether or not to let him go.
“Dave?” It was a quiet question. Dave turned back and took in her blushing face with half-lidded eyes.
“Yeah, El?”
Elly looked up into his eyes with a genuine passion. It wasn't hard to channel her arousal into the expression with how fucking turned on she was, “thank you… for everything. For doing this for me. It really makes me see you in a… better light.”
Dave turned to fully face her, a myriad of emotions storming across his face as the affection dug deep into his mind. “Elly…” he made to embrace her, taking a step towards her and sweeping his arms out to encircle her body. Elly instinctually blocked the attempt, bringing her arms up to keep him from getting any closer. She hadn't meant to, hadn't even been aware that she was going to, but the thought of having Dave touch her like that had automatically initiated her fight or flight response.
The idea of having any kind of actual intimacy with Dave was so deeply, viscerally disgusting that her body had reacted to it like putting a hand in boiling water. She scrambled to not make it awkward. Tried to salvage the mood she'd so meticulously crafted. “Not now, silly! You have something important to do! But… but when you get back… come meet me, ok? In my room. Just us. Alright?”
Dave's jaw swung open and in an instant he forgot all about her horrified rejection of his advance. Dave was out the door less than a minute later and Elly had almost literally dragged the two closest men upstairs to her room in order to work out the insane lust she was experiencing. She needed them to destroy her. She absolutely needed to be stuffed full of dick during the next twenty minutes.
-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-
“Thanks Mrs. Geltan. I know this is an incredibly hard time for you. Dave was an incredible man and we're going to miss him at the office. I appreciate you inviting us out to the funeral so we can say our goodbyes. If you ever need anything at all please let us know.”
A man Elly had never met before gently shook her hand as he rambled on about her stupid ex-husband. She'd been forced to sit through no less than 9 eulogies for Dave and she was just about coming to her wits end. It was bad enough she'd had to blow Maurice in the church bathroom in order to get her mascara to run, but now everyone felt the need to tell her personally what a fantastic man her clueless loser of a husband had been.
She glanced over to Miranda who was currently leading her SECOND stud to the bathroom for yet another quicky. That cunt was going to get an earful when they got back to the house, she could at least share the burden of listening to all these whiny pussies like Daniel was. Her wonderful son had much better luck turning on the waterworks than she had, and was currently hugging Mrs. Borden from down their street.
The last week had been a fucking nightmare to coordinate and schedule. Elly felt like she'd spent more time on the phone than off it, which would have been fine for the most part if the police hadn't been constantly harassing her. She'd requested all communication to go through her lawyer but the persistent bastards apparently enjoyed pushing her buttons.
She'd played it cool, though. Every bit the desperately traumatized wife that she needed to be. She'd made no less than 30 calls to the department demanding updates on the case. Where were the people who did this? Why haven't you caught them? What are you doing? Work faster! Check the cameras again! What do you mean there's no evidence?! And so on.
It was clear from the start that the police had almost immediately written it off as an escalated robbery. There were no witnesses, there was no footage, there was no physical evidence, Elly and her ****** had alibis along with everyone else the cops could think of that might want to do Dave harm. The case was going nowhere fast and it was only a matter of time before it went cold.
Elly worried slightly that giving birth to Devon's child a few months after her husband was brutally gunned down in the vacant lot of a video rental place might look bad. The police might have various questions related to motive, but her lawyers had assured her any potential questions wouldn't be enough to base the case on. And if push came to shove, Elly would just admit that Dave had a fetish for cuckolding and Devon’s child was a result of their lifestyle.
Who was going to correct that story? Dave? Fat chance he could manage it from his prolonged dirt-nap. Elly caught the eye of Maurice and he shifted his pants to make his bulge more visible. Elly needed this to be over. She was tired of saying thank you to all the well-wishers and if she heard the word “condolences” again she was pretty sure she would gouge someone's eyes out.
Daniel came up beside her and grabbed her hand, politely excusing her from the conversation she wasn't really listening to in order to pull her away. “It's only another two hours, just try to hang in there. I don't want to be here any more than you do but if you keep glaring at the guests like that, people are going to get the wrong idea.” He pulled her into a hug to help keep them from being overheard.
“We tied up our loose ends with the two goons. It was clean and easy. Once we ride this out we'll be free and clear and can spend the rest of our lives living a good and proper life for our superiors. Ham it up a bit, you haven't stopped by his casket to say goodbye yet, either. People will only believe it's hard for you to face him for so long before it starts to get uncomfortable. Just don't spit on it when you go up there or shit will get real weird, alright?”
Elly smiled behind the black veil covering her face. She really loved Daniel. The boy had a knack for bringing her back to center whenever she started to spiral. She kissed him on the forehead and thanked him before moving back into the crowd to resume being a devastated widow. Dave's life insurance payout just barely made the boredom tolerable.
-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-
Miranda huffed as she adjusted her position for the third time. No one had explained to her just how uncomfortable it would be to feed a child. She was pretty sure her ass was going numb and the stares from the people passing by made her feel naked. Dwayne was a greedy baby, and her nipples were still struggling to keep up with the constant gumming they were subjected to.
She swaddled her beautiful baby boy a little closer to her chest as he finally latched. She looked out on the busy mall around her, watching couples and children pass by on their way to some boutique or another. Her mother had dragged Daniel into yet another bridal gown store to try on dresses and Miranda had stepped out to feed her child.
Both of them had been shocked when Daniel explained that Darrell had proposed to him. All the same, Miranda was proud of her brother for finding someone. She'd considered settling with one of the dozen men constantly trying to lock her down but ultimately couldn't commit to just one. She knew, much like her mother, that she belonged to the streets. Devon had seemed intent on making her his personal bitch, but like with her mother, he’d ditched her for another woman after only a few months.
Instead, Miranda had hooked up with one of Devon’s partners and now made her rounds between the dealers' various dens as a free-use slut. Admittedly her nanny spent more time with Dwayne than she did, but there wasn't anything to be done about that. The men needed her, and she desperately needed them. She knew her child was well cared for and money would never be a concern of hers again so she had no regrets about her current life.
Elly had slowed down after Tyrell was born. Devon had pulled her mother back into his orbit in order to keep his child close and from what Miranda knew there were something like 20-30 men fighting for her next child. She hadn't actually seen the numbers, but the bets on who's kid she had next were creeping into the hundreds of thousands.
Miranda gently rocked her son as he suckled. The spades on the ends of her earrings jingled lightly as she moved. She hoped all the losers walking by were getting a good look at what their future would be filled with. She would certainly be doing her part to make it a reality, by any means necessary.
I try to make sure characters are believable both through their motivations and their dialogue. Thank you so much for taking the time to read my story 
I hope I can continue to write enjoyable works for you in the future as well!!
also how Elly schemes to continue the situation she placed herself in is top notch, if you will have a chance to lean more on that aspect it would be glorious <3 How many chapters do you expect?
it's comments like these that keep authors writing. Thank you so much for taking the time to read my story! I'm glad you enjoyed it! It means a lot that you were able to connect to Daniel so well, I'm never sure if I've captured the essence of someone well enough for a reader to relate to them. I hope I can continue to inspire you in the future as well! 
.
