PARKER19.TXT
BLACKOUT
By Parker
an210088@anon.penet.fi
WARNING: This story involves a good deal of non-consensual
sexual activity. If you're offended by this sort of story,
stop reading now. Consider yourself warned.
Copyright 1994 by Parker (me). Feel free to distribute the story
(unaltered, of course), but be discrete.
=================================================================
The West Side Projects.
Irregular clumps of grey, concrete structures surrounded by torn and
twisted chain link. Each cluster of three buildings encloses a concrete
playground, where the skeletal remains of slides, see-saws, parallel bars cast
long shadows in the setting sun. Rusted swings sway like hunched gibbets in the
wind. A stubborn drinking fountain, cracked porcelain and weed filled, still
bleeds a small trickle of brackish water...
"... by then, the cunt was moanin' and whinin' like a bitch in heat.
Humpin' up and down on my black cock and screamin' like she didn't know if it
was the best or worst thing she'd ever felt."
"Shit, man..."
"Best fo sure..."
Laughter.
The tall man looked around before continuing, enjoying the attention of
his audience. "You'd think she'd never had a cock up her cunt before, the way
she was carry'n on, bouncin' and squealin'..."
"Like that bitch Taylor owned a couple years ago..."
"Fuck, she probably hadn't," one of the listeners - a fat kid named DJ -
interrupted again. "Stuck up college bitches..."
"Yeah. Think their cunts are made've gold or somethin'."
"Well she wasn't no fuckin' virgin," the tall man laughed. "C'n tell ya
that."
"Not after that party," another man called out.
Bright splashes of color - promises, threats, questions, names and dates -
scrawl wildly across the uniform grey in futile explosions of illiterate
anarchy. The rusting, empty aerosol cans dot the weed and broken-glass fields
that surround, separate and enclose the concrete deserts. Roads erode...
"Hell no," the storyteller laughed. "By the time we was done with her,
she'd fucked more brothers than one of Taylor's bitches on a busy night. Bitch
had more cocks in her that night than a rich whore."
Catcalls and jeers momentarily interrupted the story.
DJ spoke up: "Then what happened?"
"Ahh, not much. Tommy put one of Marcie's party dresses on the bitch,
drove her a couple'a blocks n' booted her outta the car."
"Fuck... on 49th?"
"Yeah." The speaker grinned knowingly. "She got out OK, though. Lannie and
a couple of guys porked the bitch in behind the gas station - said she barely
put up a fight she was so badly fucked up - then she got a cab."
The black metal door had been built for safety.
For security.
It remained at its post, but just barely, hanging on by a rusted hinge.
The landing inside was dark, the empty light socket staring down like a blind
eye. The elevator door is jammed open, and the elevator - a cruel joke even
when it was new - hung a long step downward, filled with debris.
Piss-soaked stairs led upward...
"A cab? On 49th? Fuck off."
"Yeah," the tall man laughed. "Right outta fuckin' nowhere, the only
fuckin' cab on the West Side. It was Jackson, though. Word is she offered to
blow him for a ride to the fuckin' campus. Said she had a talented mouth."
The men all laughed.
"Said the bitch was drippin' cum all the way home..."
"Wooooeeee..."
The third floor landing leads down a debris and graffiti hallway to an
open door. A group of men - all black - are seated in a circle in a room that
has been informally enlarged through the destruction of two walls. A lucky few
are sitting on the holed remains of furniture; the rest are perched on crates
or milk cartons.
All are listening...
"Had ta wipe it off the seats with a fuckin' rag."
The men laughed again. Some clapped and whistled. Best story they'd heard
all night.
"Not bad, bro. Not bad."
The men turned, still laughing.
The man who had spoken walked into the room, closely followed by two or
three others.
"Hey Darrell," the man who had been telling the story grinned over at his
friend. "Whad'ya mean 'not bad'. Fuckin' 'not bad'? Y'can't top that."
Darrell grinned back. "I can." He reached the circle of men. "C'n top that
by a long shot." He pulled a box over and sat down, facing the others.
"OK." DJ, as usual, spoke up. "Let's hear it, bro."
Darrell sniffed, leaning forward. "Listen up then. Remember 'bout three
weeks ago, that blackout on the West Side?" Most of the men nodded; that
particular blackout had led to a bonanza of burglary and looting. They'd all
made too much money to forget it.
"OK." Darrell continued his story. " Me'n few brothers were ridin' the
T-Rail south, just after Burnside Station, where it goes into the tunnel..."
*****
The woman looked up from her paper when the five black men got on the
T-Rail at Burnside Station. Her pretty face creased for a moment in a look that
was part fear and part anger (and part guilt at feeling this way), but a quick
glance around the inside of the compartment revealed enough other passengers -
*safe* passengers - so that trouble seemed unlikely. Still, she felt more than
a little uncomfortable when she saw that the black men had taken seats between
her and the other passengers. She ran a nervous hand through her blonde hair
and looked back down at the newspaper; best just to ignore them. The train
would be at McLellan Station soon enough, and she would be safe there. If the
black men stayed on, she would get off and catch the next train.
The T-Rail jerked forward, letting out a loud screech as it left Burnside
Station. Picking up speed, it rounded a corner, went over Sherman Street and
plunged into the mile long tunnel which ended at the next station.
The woman glanced up as she rocked back and forth in her seat, still
uncomfortable. Was one of the black men staring at her? She dropped her eyes
downward, frightened to attract attention. In her expensive business suit and
skirt, she felt like a target. Instinctively, she reached down to touch her
briefcase. Still there.
Her decision was made. She was definitely getting off at McLellan. There
was no way she...
The lights went out and the T-Rail ground to a halt.
"Fuck, I remember that," DJ interrupted.
"Remember that fuckin' jewellery store?" Another man spoke. "We musta
scored..."
"Hey." The other men fell silent. "Do you wanna hear the story, or what?"
"Sure, Darrell."
"Yeah. What happened?"
Silence.
Then a low rumble followed by the quiet hum of the fans starting up again.
There was a collective sigh of relief in the compartment as the air started
flowing again. A few people began to talk and there was some nervous laughter.
The woman started. Was that movement beside her? She strained to see in
the pitch blackness, but it was no use. Frightened, she began to get to her
feet, to move across to the other end of the compartment. It would be...
A large hand wrapped itself around her mouth and dragged her back down
into her seat. She let out a muffled squeal and brought her own hands up to
free herself, but froze when she felt a cold, metallic edge on her throat.
A knife!
"Jus' relax," a voice whispered to her. The knife blade dug a little
deeper into her throat, not yet cutting, but not far from it. "Fight'n I'll cut
you 'nother mouth."
The woman dropped her hands and relaxed back in her seat, almost paralysed
with fear. She felt other hands, grabbing at her, touching her... One of them
took hold of the shoulder strap of her purse and jerked it away from her. She
almost felt relief at that; maybe once they'd robbed her they would let her go.
Robbery she could handle.
The hand left her mouth, but the knife remained at her throat.
"Jus' sit quiet," the voice ordered softly. "Make a sound'n your dead. Got
it?"
The woman nodded her understanding, too frightened to speak.
The hand that had been at her mouth now moved down the front of her body,
slipping under the top of her blouse and cupping her breast through the bra.
She stiffened in panic, but the knife kept her from moving. The hand moved from
one breast to the other under her blouse, squeezing her breasts through her
bra, pulling... pinching...
"Nice tits, bitch."
The woman squeezed her eyes shut and bit her lip, trying not to cry out.
"Stand up," the voice told her. "Nice'n slow."
Trembling, she obeyed, pushing herself up out of her seat and standing
with her hands by her side. The knife stayed at her throat as she moved. The
hand pushed her a step forward and she felt the man move around to stand
directly behind her. She felt his body push close against her from behind as
the hand slipped around over her shoulder and down under her blouse to resume
fondling her breasts.
"Good bitch." She felt warm breath at her ear as the man licked and
nibbled at her earlobe. "Nice bitch."
"Uh..."
She let out a quiet gasp as she felt the presence of another man right in
front of her. The knife pressed down for a moment in warning and she managed to
control herself. The unseen figure in front of her moved closer until she felt
his breath on her face. Closer... then his lips touched her's.
"Mmmm..."
She pressed her lips tightly together and turned her head, but a hand
grabbed a fistful of her thick blonde hair and turned her head forwards.
"C'mon bitch," the voice whispered in her ear. "Give m' brother a kiss."
"Jeez'... I don't fuckin' believe it..."
"You guys did this on a motherfuckin' T-Rail?"
Darrell grinned. "It get's better..."
Reluctantly, she kept her head steady and parted her lips. The man in
front of her immediately pressed his face closer and slid his tongue into her
mouth. She fought to keep from gagging as she felt his stubble burn her chin
and hot, fetid breath invade her mouth. After a few moments, the man pulled his
mouth away, giving her lips one last lick with his tongue.
The woman panted, almost hyperventilating with fear, fighting back the
urge to bring her hand up to wipe the man's spittle from her lips. She waited
in silence for the next humiliation. She didn't have to wait long. There was a
quiet snick, and she felt the cold steel of a second knife slide down her chest
and under her blouse. She held her breath as it slipped under the front strap
of her bra and cut it. The front of her bra fell open, exposing her breasts to
the man behind her. He let out a quiet chuckle as his hand pushed away the torn
remnants of her bra and directly fondled her breasts.
The knife was taken away from her chest, but before she could feel any
sense of relief, a hand pulled at her skirt, tugging it downwards. At first,
she thought they were trying to pull it off, but it was just held tight. Then
there came a quiet tearing sound. What was...
"Spread your legs, bitch" whispered a voice from low down in front of her.
"Or you'll be cut."
With a quiet moan of fear, the woman realized what was happening. They
were using a knife to cut a slit up the front and back of her grey skirt.
Moving awkwardly, she obeyed, widening her stance so the knife wouldn't cut her
leg. Then she stood, shivering, while the man in front of her made a long cut
up the front, and then the back, of her skirt.
After the second cut was made, a hand slid up the inside of her thighs up
to her crotch. Her eyes watered and a tear trickled down her cheek as she felt
a hand on her pussy, cupping it and rubbing.
"P-please," she whispered.
"Jus' relax," the voice whispered at her ear. The man gave her breast a
little squeeze, tweaking the nipple. "Be a good little bitch."
The blade of the second knife was slid under the waist band of her
panties. With a flick, the thin elastic material was sliced and the panties
pulled away. Her pussy was now exposed to the groping fingers; they rubbed up
and down, playing and teasing as she squirmed helplessly, and then, inevitably,
slipped inside. She let out a gasp, but it was stifled as the man in front of
her brought his face against her's for a kiss. This time, she didn't try to
turn away; she just parted her lips and accepted his tongue in her mouth.
There was no use in fighting.
"Sounds like one hot bitch..."
"Sure beats your story all to hell," DJ gave the tall man a shove.
The tall man just shrugged his shoulders. "Dat's a fact, jack." He
grinned. "If it's true."
Darrell smirked. "Oh, it's all true."
"Then what happened?"
"OK. While Steve was given her some tongue..."
The T-Rail lurched forward. A cheer rose up from the trapped passengers,
but it quickly died away as the train ground to a halt again.
The woman felt the man's fingers slide out of her pussy as both her and
the man behind her were thrown back onto a seat. For a brief moment she
considered screaming for help, but the knife never left her throat. When the
T-Rail stopped moving, she was sitting on the man's lap.
She felt something...
The man's cock was rubbing up against her ass. He must have taken it out
of his pants, because she felt it directly against her flesh where the skirt
had been cut away. She shivered at the touch of it, long and hard against her
flesh.
And wet.
"OK bitch." The man's mouth was close up against her ear. "You wanna get
outta this, you do what I say. Got it?"
The woman nodded.
"Good bitch. I'm take'n the knife away, but it's right here beside me."
The blade left her throat; she let out a sigh. "You fuck up and I'll cut your
heart out." The woman trembled at these words, but didn't cry out or try to
escape.
She believed him.
Every word.
"Now, spread your legs."
She obeyed, opening her legs until her knees were spread further apart
than the man's, pulling apart the long slit in her skirt. As she did so, she
felt a second hand - the hand that had been holding the knife against her
throat - slip around and cup her other breast.
"Reach down between your legs and grab my cock."
She let out a quiet moan, hesitating.
"Do it," he hissed, tightening his grip on her already sore breasts.
Whimpering, she reached down through the long slit in her skirt and touched his
cock. It was long and rock hard where it stuck up between her thighs. Sensing
what he wanted, she wrapped her fingers around it and began sliding her hand up
and down, masturbating it between her thighs as if it were her own. The woman
was resigned to it now, and the quicker he came, the quicker it would be over
with.
"Ohhh, you hot bitch." The woman felt his tongue on the side of her neck.
She twisted her head away, but that only gave him more room to lick and kiss up
her neck to the side of her face. "Ohhh yeah..."
"This is gettin' stupid."
"Yeah... you guys didn't..."
"Shut up and listen."
The men fell silent.
One hand left her breast and dropped down to her exposed pussy. She let
out a small gasp, squirming on the man's lap, but was unable to avoid his
fingers and they rubbed up and down the outside of her pussylips and then slid
inside. Still masturbating his cock, she fought it for as long as she could,
but after a minute or two of the man's fingers exploring her pussy... and her
clit... she felt herself begin to get moist. As much as she hated what was
happening to her, her body couldn't help but respond. It was purely a physical
reaction, but a reaction nonetheless.
She prayed he wouldn't notice.
"Juicin' up nicely, bitch." Her face burned with humiliation as her
fingers, sticky with pre-cum, continued their work. "Just 'bout time to finish
up." The man shifted his weight so that her feet reached the floor on either
side of the chair. "Now, I want ya to stand up and sink your juicy cunt down on
my black cock. Got it?"
Again, the woman nodded. She was at the stage where she would do
*anything* just to end the ordeal. Moving slowly, careful not to give the
impression that she was trying to escape, she gathered her legs under her and
pushed herself up off his lap. His hands tightened on her breasts, but she had
no intention of doing anything stupid. She had come too far for that. Her
fingers, which had been busy masturbating his cock even while she stood,
stopped pumping and pulled the cock forward. She let out a small moan as she
realized just how large the cock was. Still, she had no choice; as slowly and
gently as she could, she let herself sink down, her fingers guiding the man's
cock into her unwilling pussy. First the head slipped in... then one inch...
two inches... (for the first time, she was thankful for the moisture which made
this relatively painless) four inches...
"Ahhh..."
She let out a little cry as the man lost patience with her slow descent
and used her breasts to drag her back down onto her lap. With one brutal
thrust, his massive cock was buried to the hilt in her spasming pussy.
"Shit. You fucked th' bitch right on the fuckin' T-Rail?" DJ looked
sceptical. "Don't fuckin' believe..."
Others, however: "What was she like?"
"Well," Darrell answered, grinning, "I'll tell ya..."
"Whew," the man sighed. "This is one tight-cunt bitch."
The other men laughed softly as the woman hung her head, face burning with
humiliation.
"OK bitch. Start ridin'."
She knew what he meant.
With a quiet moan, she gathered her legs under her and began riding his
cock, pushing up and down... up and down... sliding her now-sopping pussy up
and down on the unwelcome intruder, unwillingly serving his pleasure.
"Faster, bitch."
Sweat broke out on her brow, matting her blonde hair to her forehead and
trickling down her face onto her chest where the man's hands mauled her
breasts, as she began to move faster and faster: up and down, riding his long,
hard cock in and out of her stretched pussy. She began to pant and emit quiet
grunting sounds in time with her movement as she bounced up and down on his lap
like some kind of whorish puppet. After a while, the muscles in her leg started
to cramp up, but she kept moving.
Up... down... up... down...
In... out... in... out...
Against her will, her pussy began to spasm around the invading cock as her
body trembled, betraying her...
"You mean she liked it?" DJ again.
"Always the same; white bitches love black cock. They can't fuckin' help
themselves."
"Thas' a fact, jack."
"Straight up," Darrell agreed. "And then..."
"Jeez Darrell," came a voice from in front of her. "I want some a' that."
"Stop for a second, bitch."
She fought back a groan of frustration as the man forced her to be still
on his lap. She panted as she sat there, feeling his cock buried deep within
her burning pussy... just a little more...
"Bitch's mouth's free."
The feeling of pleasure fled as she realized what the man had said. Her
mouth? Oh, no...
A hand clutched at her face, pulling her forward. "You heard'm," a voice
whispered. "Open wide."
The tears streamed down her at this new humiliation, but she obeyed
without question, parting her lips to accept this new invasion. She just wanted
to get it over with. Immediately, she felt a long, hard cock slip into her
mouth. She gagged at the bitter taste of the pre-cum, but didn't pull away.
With a quiet moan, she began to suck at it, bobbing her face up and down and
using her tongue to...
"C'mon bitch." She felt the hand tighten on her breasts. "Not done here
yet."
Once again, being careful not to bite down on the that was cock being fed
into her mouth, she began to move, sliding her wet pussy up and down on the
man's cock. In her bent over position, it seemed to penetrate even deeper, but
she had no choice. Using her hands to brace herself, she began to pick up
speed. And slowly, ever so slowly, the pleasure began to build again as her
tight ass bounced up and down on the man's lap while her mouth sucked hungrily
at the other man's cock. Faster and faster she moved, picking up speed as the
feelings built towards orgasm, humping and bucking and sweating and grunting
like a practised whore. Just a little more and...
The T-Rail let out a loud screech and jerked forward a couple of feet. The
lights flickered...
The woman's feet slipped out from under her and her pussy was violently
jammed down on the man's cock as she fell back onto his lap. At the same time,
the man whose cock she was sucking lost his balance and fell forward, driving
his cock straight down her throat.
All three came at once.
The man on the chair stiffened and, clutching hard at her breast, shot his
cum out into her writhing pussy.
The man in front pulled back slightly, ending the involuntary deep throat,
but still shot his load into her mouth, filling it with his thick, salty cum.
The taste sent her over the edge. Choking and sputtering cum, she twisted
and writhed on the man's lap, panting and gasping in ecstasy and humiliation as
waves of pleasure crashed through her sweat-soaked body. It was all she could
do not to scream out loud...
The lights flickered again.
"Fuck!"
"Move it."
There was a flurry of activity around her as the man behind her pushed her
off his lap and shoved her over onto a seat beside him. "Listen, bitch," the
man hissed, shoving the newspaper back into her hand. "You sit quietly and get
off with us at the next station." She tried to say something - to protest - but
her mouth was full of cum. Grimacing, she tried to swallow as she heard the
other men take their seats in front of her. She felt his knife prick her in the
ribs. "Any trouble..." He didn't even bother to finish the threat. She felt him
get up and move away.
The lights flickered and then came back on.
There was silence in the room. Each man stared at Darrell, waiting to hear
what happened. Darrell just stayed silent, looking around the room with a big
grin on his face. It was DJ who broke the silence. "Fuck, Darrell. What the
fuck happened?"
The passengers had cheered as the T-Rail began to move again. People had
looked around, smiles of relief on their faces, but no one had noticed anything
different.
Anything wrong.
And, if anyone noted that the attractive blonde in the conservative, grey
business outfit on the other side of the compartment looked a little
dishevelled, well... they put it down to nerves. Claustrophobia. More than one
passenger looked a little worse for the wear.
Still, all's well...
The T-Rail eventually ground to a stop at McLellan Station.
The woman lowered the paper and looked at the black men. They had stood
up, and one of them flashed a knife at her. She glanced at the other
passengers, but no one had seen it. No one knew anything was wrong. She got to
her feet, grimacing at the cold, sticky feeling between her thighs where the
man's cum had leaked out of her pussy, and began to walk towards the exit.
"Excuse me, lady?" She almost fainted with relief, turning as a young man
at the other side of the train called out to her. At last, someone had
noticed... "You forgot your briefcase." The man gestured to where her briefcase
sat at the back of the compartment.
Help me you idiot!
The man smiled at her and turned back to his paper.
"Thanks," she muttered. One of the black men stood in the exit, preventing
the door from sliding shut as she slowly walked back and picked up her
briefcase. With a final glance around the compartment - no help there - she
sighed and walked out onto the platform. The door slid shut and the T-Rail
pulled away with a loud rumble.
She stood on the platform, now surrounded by five black men. "C'mon
bitch." It was the man who had raped her.
The man with the knife. "And keep quiet."
Meekly, broken, she followed the men out of the station...
*****
The men all began talking at once:
"Fuck, that was hot..."
"Great story man..."
"Wheeeoo..."
Again, it was DJ who asked the question that everyone was thinking: "What
the fuck happened to the bitch, man? Sell her to Taylor?"
Darrell laughed. "Fuck no. It's not everyday a white cunt falls into your
lap like that. I fuckin' kept her; she's *my* bitch now."
"Fuck off!"
"No way, man..."
Darrell turned. "Tina," he called, "hustle your white ass in here."
The men all stared at the door as the woman - Tina Swanson - entered the
room, closely followed by one of Darrell's friends. Darrell watched with
satisfaction as the men all gaped. Even *he* was surprised every time he saw
her: all traces of the confident young career woman he had raped on the T-Rail
three weeks ago had been systematically erased.
In her place stood a cock-hungry bimbo.
*His* cock-hungry bimbo.
She was dressed in a tight, black polyester mini-skirt, just over a foot
long, which barely stretched from her lower abdomen to the bottom curves of her
ass. Her long, slender legs were bare all the way down to the bright red, six
inch pumps. The only other item of clothing she wore was a half-cup tank top,
bright pink, at least a couple sizes too small. It left her stomach and upper
chest completely bare, hardly sufficing to push up her smallish breasts. Her
upper body was bare, completely exposing a large tattoo on her upper chest:
"DARRELL'S BITCH" it said, in big red letters, still bright and new. Her face
was heavily made up, lips made thick and pouty with shiny, red lipstick and
green eyes strongly outlined with eyeshadow. Each ear had been triple pierced,
and three heavy, plastic hoops dangled on each side of her face. Her blonde
hair, so stylishly cut the first time he had seen her, was streaked with purple
and teased up in a wild, sluttish manner.
Even so, someone recognized her.
"Motherfucker," one of the men exclaimed. "That's no bitch; that's a
fuckin lawyer. She's a fuckin' DA."
Darrell grinned again. "Thas' right," he agreed. "I fuckin' knew it when I
saw her on the T-Rail. She put m' brother away a year ago." He paused for a
moment before adding: "'Course, don't matter, nohow." He turned back towards
where the woman stood just inside the doorway. "C'mere babe."
Smiling, the woman walked over to him, hips swinging in the tight
miniskirt. She draped one of her bare arms over his shoulder as she came up
beside him. He reached around and squeezed her ass.
"Tina babe," he said, "you don' wanna go back to no stuffy courtroom, now
do ya girl?"
Tina pouted and shook her head uncertainly.
"Whadya want?"
She smiled.
That was an easy one.
She knew the answer.
"Wanna stay with you, babe," she giggled, dropping her free hand to her
crotch and lewdly gyrating her crotch towards his face. "Wanna do the 'wild
thing'." Darrell grinned at her and she sighed inwardly with relief, running
her tongue over her thick, pouty lips. She was getting better at this: pleasing
him; acting the bimbo; being his "bitch".
Surviving.
Darrell turned back to the other men and got to his feet. "Y'see," he
leered. "A happy ending for everyone."
He turned to leave, a giggling Tina on his arm. Just as he got to the door
though, he turned, pulling his blonde bimbo around until she faced the men.
"Before we go," he told her, "you should say 'hi' to the brothers here. N' be
nice; you won't be my bitch forever, y'know."
Tina swallowed, catching his meaning. She looked slowly around the room,
catching each man's eye and trying to look as sexy as possible. If there was
one thing she's learned in the last few weeks, it was that her survival
depended on satisfying black cock. In her mouth; in her cunt; in her ass...
And there was plenty of black cock here in this room. With a small shudder
- half fear, half lust - she knew that she'd eventually belong to at least some
of these men.
Just as she now belonged to Darrell.
"Hi boys," she purred, giving her hips a little wiggle. "Hope to see ya
soon."
Darrell laughed...
The West Side Projects.
Irregular clumps of grey, concrete structures surrounded by torn and
twisted chain link. The skeleton slides and gibbet swings have disappeared,
their outlines swallowed up by the dark, starless night. Dim light shines out
through grimy, boarded windows, revealing the presence of numerous closed,
half-shadowed rooms. Babies crying... couples fighting or making love...
And, in one of those rooms, Tina Swanson - Darrell's bitch - takes another
load of cum up her ass, all the while humping her white ass backwards and
crying out in simulated ecstasy...
THE END
=================================================================
As usual, I am interested in any comments you may have regarding this story,
or any of my other stories.
