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6
As soon as the hem of the green dress rose, Jeff saw jewels. A jewel of an ass. A jewel in an ass. Ruby red, faceted glass an inch in diameter between taut cheeks. His eyes and imagination lingered on that ruby, until discarded green dress fell onto the table, slid off onto the concrete floor.
The pale white naked back was dominated by a black tattoo of what at first glance looked to be a three-pronged pitchfork. Each prong ended in a barbed point. The center prong extended lower than the other two, an arrow ending just above and pointing to the crack of Maria’s ass. Then Jeff got it: three. Not a pitchfork but a trident. Neptune’s/Neptuno’s trident.
“Turn around.”
Now she was facing him. Facing the room full of men and other whores, many of whom had turned to watch the gringa beauty’s degradation, even though they had seen it many times before. The Colonel always put on a good show. Her eyes were open, but unseeing. The crowd of leering faces was white noise.
“Stop!” Jeff gasped and held the whore’s head motionless. His wife was there. Standing. Naked. Obedient. Helpless. Incredibly desirable. It was too much. He willed himself not to come yet in the hot mouth.
“Good. You are wearing my gift,” said the police colonel. “Kneel.”
As Maria knelt, her breasts swayed forward. Jeff saw words tattooed across her abdomen, but not long enough to read. He pulled the whore’s mouth off his cock. She looked up at him questioningly. Maria’s eyes closed as the Colonel’s hand reached toward her ass and pulled.
“Amazing you stay so tight,” the man said. And pulled harder. His black hand finally raised, displaying a shining tapered gray metal plug, 8” long and 2” wide at its maximum. She had been walking with that in her, Jeff thought. Sitting on it uncomfortably. “You seem to be clean.”
“You know I am.”
“Then taste.”
He held out the plug and she turned her head, flicked silver mane to one side, opened red lips and sucked the entire shaft in without gagging. Not for the last time that night, Jeff was surprised at his wife’s new talents. Never had she taken his cock entirely in her mouth.
For a minute Colonel Linares fucked her face with the glistening plug, pulling it out until only the tip remained between red lips, then plunging it all the way back in.
“No,” said Jeff to the Latina whore at his feet, who was lightly stroking his balls. “Not even that. Just wait.” He glanced down. The shadow of the table fell across the woman’s face. She could be anyone. She could be Mary. But Maria was kneeling naked on a table just beyond his reach. Skin so pale in that glaring light. Nipples so dark. Perhaps she never gets outside, Jeff thought, erroneously as he was to learn. Muscles so defined. Legs. Ass. Back. Arms. Like a dancer. She was toned. Fucking all night long will do that.
Colonel Linares placed the metal plug carefully on the table, point up.
“Climb on. No. Face me.”
Maria turned and squatted. Hesitated.
The Colonel laughed. “In your cunt.”
Hobbling forward on the too high stiletto heels, she lowered her hips. Jeff watched the plug disappear until her naked ass blocked all but the jeweled end.
“You’re wet. You must be looking forward to my stretching your whore holes.”
“Of course I am, Colonel.”
“No, you’re not. Tell the truth.”
“You’re too big. You hurt.”
The black man laughed again. Louder. His four bodyguards laughed as well.
“Good. Good. Then we should help prepare you.” Stretching out his left hand without looking, he ordered, “Your beer.” The nearest uniformed bodyguard hurriedly placed a bottle in the thick hand.
“Lift up.”
White hips rose. Metal plug within them.
“Higher.”
The Colonel slid the half full beer bottle beneath her. Held it steady.
“Now lower. This one in your ass.”
Arcs of white flesh descended. Twitched as they touched cold glass. Opened like a mouth, swallowed, stretched. Wider as the bottle thickened. “I can’t. I’ll rip.”
“No you won’t. Fuck it and be grateful I’m not drinking champagne. And don’t stop until your ass reaches my hand.”
The white ass rose. Jeff could see the pink sphincter contract, then expand tight around glass on the slower downward stroke. He reached down and grabbed the Latina’s breasts, squeezing hard, twisting, hearing her whimper, but not attempt to pull away.
Mesmerized he watched the ass, his wife’s ass that she had refused him for years, sink a little lower, stretch a little farther with each descent. In front of a room full of strangers. There were other sounds. Music. Conversations. Other women being used. But they seemed distant. He saw only that ass stretching more than he would have thought possible. How full she must feel with the plug in her cunt and half a bottle up her ass. She was almost there. Almost to the widest part of the bottle. Almost to the side of the black hand. With a grunt, she forced herself down.
“See. I told you you would not tear. You can come down from there now and sit beside me.”
He held the bottle as Maria’s ass rose, made a popping sound, gaped wide--Jeff had a momentary glimpse far inside her where the Colonel would soon be--before she slid from the table top, turned and sat.
“Head back.”
She knew what was coming. Vulnerable bare chain tattooed throat toward Jeff. Mouth open.
The Colonel upended the bottle. She swallowed, but the beer came too quickly. She choked. Beer and foam bubbled over her chin, flowed onto her breasts and belly, puddled on the warehouse floor. The neck of the bottle entered her mouth. “Close.” Her lips did. Throat convulsing. “Suck it clean. Not, I think, the last thing you will drink tonight. Or suck clean.” Another popping sound when he finally pulled the empty bottle from her lips.
“You are an amusing whore.” Without warning he pushed her. She fell heavily onto the wet floor, landing on her back, the breath knocked out of her. Sprawled. Long bare legs apart. Jeff’s eyes were caught by the red jewel in her shaved cunt. Moved to the indelible words tattooed just above in black script. “I hate you! Fuck me harder!”
“You know the drill.” The colonel didn’t even look down at her as he took a sip of his martini.
Slowly the silver haired woman rolled onto her knees, crawled to the black man’s feet and began to unlace his shoes. Carefully she put them to one side, then rolled down black silk socks. Crawled beneath the table, between his legs. Unbuckled belt. Unzipped zipper. Waited until the Colonel raised his beefy hips. Pulled down pin-striped suit pants and red silk boxers, which she folded neatly, before reaching up and placing them on the cushion beside him.
Jeff’s view was slightly off to one side. Past his wife’s back and buttocks, most of the black man’s naked lower body could be seen. The Colonel was all of a piece. Every part thick and solid. Feet. Legs. Thighs. Cock. The cock was erect. Not exceptionally long. Eight inches. But wide. Almost as wide as the bottom half of the beer bottle. Of course it would stretch her. It would hurt any woman. Jeff wanted to watch her eyes as it entered her. A moan. He looked down to his whore’s anguished face. He had forgotten her. His fingernails were cutting into her flesh. She gave a momentary sigh of relief when he released his grip, interrupted by his pulling her head to his groin. “Suck slowly.”
Turning back, he was looking at the cracks of his wife’s raised naked ass and cunt. Her head was lower. Her lips sucking, too, wrapped around the big toe of the Colonel’s right foot. Moving on to the next black toe. Taking each carefully in her mouth. Another whore stepped over her, replaced the Colonel’s empty glass with a full one. The only sign he was aware of Maria was when, after she had sucked on his little toe, he raised his foot from the dirty floor, so she could lick the sole. Pink tongue against pink skin.
One foot cleaned, then the other.
Her lips and tongue worked their way up. Calfs. Knees. Muscular thighs. Balls. Slowly. Tasting the man fully.
The table top divided him. Above, pin-striped suit jacket. White shirt. Tie. A slightly bored business man, sipping a martini. Below, a powerful naked ebony animal being serviced by a beautiful, unwilling, helpless white whore, whom her husband had put there. That husband watched as her now smeared red lips opened, then closed around thick black flesh.
Silver hair bobbed up and down. A black hand pressed down and held. All that flesh filling her mouth, Jeff thought. Pushing into her throat. Her lips stretched white. Her body convulsed, gagged. She struggled, but couldn’t overcome the Colonel’s strong hand, until he decided to let her breath, gasping, before pressing her head down again.
The lights went out.
What? Jeff thought, and then they came on in the other half of Blanco y Negro. He had forgotten. His wife was the merest vague pale shape. He groaned with frustration.
Only sounds. Too many sounds. Was that her gagging? Colonel Linares breathing more heavily? Glasses clinking. Flesh slapping flesh. Laughter. Hard rock music. Conversations.
He glanced at the lighted side of the club. Two women, one with bleached blond hair with dark roots, the other long black hair, both naked but for high heels, were dancing together, breast pressed to breast, mouths kissing, tongues dueling, putting on a show for a circle of men. Other naked flesh at tables, in booths.
Beside him, in the direction of the Colonel’s booth, bodies moved. Light and dark forms shifted, but he could not tell how. Warm wetness continued to engulf his cock. A tongue licked.
Mercifully, the lights came back on.
Jeff jerked back.
A thick dripping black cock was almost in his face.
Maria was now lying on her back on the table, her head hanging over the edge. Her upside down mouth open, fish-like, her tongue extended.
Colonel Linares backed onto it. A white hand reached around and circled his cock, stroked as tongue licked. Colonel Linares smiled. Life was good.
He stood there, letting the gringa whore lick his asshole for a while, before he bent his knees slightly and moved up and down, wiping his ass all over her face.
When the Colonel turned, Jeff momentarily saw his wife’s face glistening with juices. Massive black buttocks blocked it as the Colonel plunged his cock all the way into the inverted mouth. Jeff watched black gluteus maximus bunch and flex as the Colonel slowly fucked Maria’s face, forcing her to taste every inch.
“Enough.”
The Colonel pulled out, reached down, flipped Maria over onto her stomach, her feet falling to the concrete floor, and pulled her ass around until it was in front of him. Still slightly to one side, Jeff saw her full breasts flatten against the table top. Her face turned away from him. He wanted to see her eyes.
“Take those shoes off,” growled Colonel Linares. “Your legs are too damn long.”
Mary/Maria straightened, then bent. With a sigh of relief, she untied the cutting laces, and stepped from the too high heels. Turned and pressed her upper body onto the table agin. Red criss-crossed grooves were etched into her calves and feet. And this time, her face was toward him.
“Reach back and spread it.”
Jeff’s already rock hard cock hardened further as the wife he had turned into a whore assumed the obscene position without hesitation.
The Colonel let her stay that way, displaying her asshole to the room, enjoying her humiliation--although, Jeff realized, perhaps she is already beyond humiliation--until, “Beg me for it.”
“Please fuck me.”
“Do you hate me?”
“Yes...No...I don’t know.”
“Let’s see if we can make up your mind.”
Jeff clearly saw the thick black shaft move toward his wife’s tender anus. Saw the tip touch, pierce, push puckered ring aside, enter. Her fingers clenched the far side of the table top. Jeff’s eyes darted to her eyes. They were squeezed shut, then opened wide with pain as the shaft slowly, inexorably filled her.
Balls deep, the Colonel deliberately lowered the full weight of his massive upper body onto her, business suit jacket on naked back, crushing the breath from her, mashing her naked flesh against cigarette burned and knife scarred table top, forcing a groan of anguish from streaked lips.
Black hips pulled back, then slammed his cock all the way in again. A cry. Green eyes closed. Opened. Filled with tears.
“Do you hate me now?”
“What answer do you want?”
Black ass pulled back, slammed forward.
“The honest one.”
“Yes.”
“Say it.”
“I hate you.”
“Good. Good. You should.”
The Colonel raised his upper body, stood straight. Grabbed the gringa whore’s ass with both hands and began to fuck in and out with a deliberate rhythm, white shirt tail flapping against his own ass.
“Reach back and finger your clit. I want you to make yourself come while my cock is up your ass. Don’t try to fake it. I want to feel that sphincter spasm.”
Her breath increased to match his pounding rhythm and her stroking fingers.
Green eyes closed. Red smeared mouth opened. Gasping. From pleasure and pain. Jeff had never really thought about what the men must make her feel.
“Now!” commanded the Colonel.
“AgggGGHH!!” Came from three throats.
Naked white body spasmed and twitched.
Half naked black body, head back, remained motionless, as deep up white ass it spewed.
Jeff’s head flew back as he shot spurt after spurt, overflowing the Latina’s mouth.
Colonel Linares was first to move. Shuffling his flat feet back, he slowly withdrew from the white ass. Maria remained bent over the table, crushed, exhausted. And the long night had just begun. Her asshole was still stretched into a big, gaping ‘O’, from which a rivulet of come began to seep.
Colonel Linares sat down and slid around the booth cushion.
“You can fuck her now,” he told his bodyguards. “But take her out to the alley. Have her piss on herself. Pile-driver position. Then you fuck her. Ass or cunt, I don’t care. But have her hold it inside until you bring her back here.”
One of the guards, a big brown skinned man with a pockmarked face, asked hesitantly, “Pile-driver?”
“Stand her on her head, hold her legs apart. Cunt above face so she pisses into her own mouth. Then bend her legs and fuck her that way. Both holes are accessible.”
A calloused hand circled delicate wrist and pulled the American woman upright. Maria groaned. Straightened, walked awkwardly.
Jeff watched her naked back, the rhythmic rotation of her ass, as she and the four uniformed men made their way across the crowded floor until they vanished into the dark side of the room.
A movement caused his eyes to look down at the whore between his knees. Come coated her lips and chin. Her eyes were questioning.
“That’s all. You can go.”
She got to her feet slowly. Legs numb. Limped away.
Jeff took a sip of his drink. He had forgotten what he was drinking. Tequila and tonic. Now flat. He glanced around, caught the eye of a woman by the bar and held up his glass. She nodded and turned to the bartender. Behind him he heard the Colonel say, “You. Clean my cock and dress me.”
Reflected in the mirror behind the bar, he saw a small black girl, wearing only a g-string and clear plastic high heels with inch-thick soles, disappear under the Colonel’s table. He watched her head in the Colonel’s lap, and then a small black hand reach for neatly folded clothes.
Their drinks came at the same time: a new martini for the Colonel; a new tequila and tonic for Jeff. Their eyes met. The Colonel raised his glass. Jeff raised his.
“You are from the U.S.A.?”
“Yes.”
“Here on business?”
“I’m an attorney. One of my client’s is working on the canal expansion.”
The Colonel nodded.
“So you are here often?”
“Every other month.”
“It is a good project. Good for the country. Good for me.” And the smiling Colonel smiled.
Jeff did too.
“Have you been to this place before?”
“Twice.”
“Then you know.” He paused to sip his drink. “You should fuck the whore I just used. After she gets cleaned up, of course.” The laughing Colonel laughed. “She is one of yours. A country woman. Beautiful. As enthusiastic as you want her to be. I stretch her some; but she is still tight.” He paused and raised his right foot so the girl beneath the table could pull on his silk sock. “None of them,” he encompassed all the women in the room with a gesture of his right hand, “want to be here; but they can leave when their shift is over. They can hope that in time they will pay their debts or serve their time and be free. She, Maria, is here forever. Did you notice that she wears a wedding ring? Her own husband did this to her.” He shook his head in disbelief. “I can’t see how a man could get rid of such a good fuck. But then maybe she didn’t fuck him so good.” His eyes brightened. “You saw what I had tattooed on her belly?”
Jeff nodded.
“She really does hate it. Hates all of us. Every man who uses her. There is no greater pleasure than making a woman who hates you come. To make her own body betray her. To force her pleasure she does not want. To feel her helplessly spasm against your cock in her ass. Nothing like it. The power. Really, you should try her.”
“I will.”
“They were quick,” said the Colonel. “Turned on by watching me use her, knowing that I would probably let them fuck her after. Like dogs.”
Jeff turned and saw his wife duckwalking in front of the bodyguards, one hand over her cunt, the other behind her covering her asshole. Soaked silver hair hung down in wet strands. Drops of what he knew was her own piss on her face and shoulders. As he watched one drop fell from a brown nipple.
“Climb up here.” The colonel pointed at the table top.
Awkwardly, hands still in place, one of the bodyguards assisting her, Mary did, squatted, facing the Colonel, her trident covered back toward Jeff.
The Colonel smiled. “Not so beautiful now, are you? Answer me!”
“No.”
“A piss stinking mess.”
“Yes.”
“Not, I think, the last you will drink tonight.”
“No.”
“Squeeze it out: the come.”
Hands moved. Jeff could see her raw abused still gaping ass hole. A thick viscous glob emerged and plopped onto the table top. Other globs fell from her cunt. Four loads from aroused men who had been watching and waiting. Two puddles on the table top grew until they merged into one.
“What do you think I want you to do now?”
Jeff watched the naked back, followed the indentation of her spine, the center prong of the trident to the crack of the perfect ass, soles of bare feet balanced on bent toes, until answering by action rather than words, the body moved, went to its knees, shifted to one side, lowered its face, opened it’s mouth, extended it’s tongue and licked and sucked up the lake of come.
“You are a good slut,” complimented the Colonel. “Found your true calling. Go now and shower your disgusting body.” A grimace of pain flashed across her face as he took the butt plug which had fallen onto the seat cushion and in one motion shoved it up her ass. “But don’t forget your jewelry.”
Sliding off the table, with bowed head she walked away.
The Colonel’s eyes met Jeff’s again. Jeff raised his glass in salute.
Colonel Linares smiled.
----------
“You can have her now,” said the immaculate Neptuno.
Jeff had moved to the booth vacated by the departed police colonel. The cracked red vinyl was still warm.
“Not yet. I want to watch her work.”
A nod of the head. A bemused smile. A turn on the ball of a shining black shoe and Neptuno was gone.
A few minutes later, Jeff saw her return to the floor. Silver hair rinsed clean of her own piss hung straight to just below her shoulders. Big gold hoop earrings, as before, one in one ear, two in the other. But different shoes. Red backless, toeless, high heeled sandals. He had bought her a similar pair once, in black, but she had seldom worn them, claiming they were too “slutty.” No longer. Now the shoes fit. A pasted on phony whore smile. He liked that she not only had to endure whatever men wanted to do to her, but seem to enjoy it. And nothing else. Shoes. Earrings. Smile. Otherwise she was naked.
She took only three steps before a laborer in dirt streaked overalls and a grubby t-shirt grabbed her and pulled her onto his lap. Or as much onto his lap as he could beyond a gut so round and hard that he looked pregnant. Open mouthed he pressed his face to hers. Gaps between blackened teeth. Tobacco stained tongue probing between fresh lipstick. Jeff imagined the breath she was breathing; the taste. Hairy left hand, dirty fingernails, pushed between white thighs, which obediently opened, as the kiss continued. Entered. Flicked.
The fat man broke the kiss, pulled his head back and watched the beautiful green-eyed face, waiting for a response to his fucking fingers. And when it came, when her mouth opened and her eyes closed, he moved his fingers faster. Then, without warning, he spread his knees and let her fall unceremoniously, gasping, onto the floor.
He reached around beach ball belly and felt for the zipper he could not see. A comparatively small cock emerged. Still breathing heavily from almost orgasming, Maria rolled onto her knees and sucked him in.
Jeff watched her bobbing head, swaying breasts. Saw one fine boned hand circle the shaft, the other cup and stroke balls. Saw her pull off the cock, lick up and down, move her tongue to the balls, suck them in, one at a time, then both together, the entire scrotum, while one hand continued to pump cock. Move back up, take the cock entirely in her mouth again. Saw cheeks hollow as she sucked. Marveled at how she sought to please. Realized that she had learned that was the way of least resistance and pain. Saw hairy hands entwined in silver hair, forcing her face into no doubt smelly groin, as balls emptied. Saw throat swallow. What had she told the colonel: fifteen or twenty loads last night? How much come would that be? Coffee cups? Glasses? Bowls full?
He own cock was painfully hard again.
A tall girl with short blond hair, small nippled high firm breasts, wearing only a multicolored mini-skirt, slung low on her hips, far below a deep naval in a smooth flat abdomen, was passing.
“Here,” Jeff said.
She turned and he watched the whore smile instantly slide into place as she slid into the booth beside him.
Jeff reached out and took her left nipple between his fingers, relishing the freedom to do anything he wanted to to her, to any of the women in the room, to his wife. The fake smile remained unchanged as his finger rolled, squeezed hard enough to hurt, released.
“What’s your name? Or what do they call you here?”
“Nikki.”
“You’re obviously not Panamanian.”
She eyed him suspiciously. Then, what did it matter? If he wanted to talk at least he wasn’t hurting her.
“Norwegian.”
“And how did you make this career choice?”
“I didn’t. I was working on a cruise ship. Activities director. We had a night in port after passing through the canal. I went to a club. There was a raid. The police found some Ecstasy in my purse. I was tried the next day and sentenced to five years. But then I was taken into the judge’s chambers and given a choice: a blow job for him and a year working here instead.” Lovely shoulders shrugged. “In jail the guards and dykes would have used me harder and longer.”
“How many more months?”
A broken smile. “Seven. If they really let me go then. Some of the girls say they won’t.”
“You want a drink?”
“Sure. It helps. Just gesture toward the bar. They know. And you? Here on business?”
“Business and pleasure.” Jeff’s eyes scanned the room until he found Mary/Maria, sitting on a cracked marble topped table, facing an old man in brown slacks and lavender silk shirt. Her knees were apart, one red sandaled high-arched foot on either side of him, while she masturbated, one red finger nailed hand caressing her breasts, the other her clit almost at his eye level. “And to see an old friend. Lose the skirt.” He heard himself mimicking the Colonel.
A single clasp and the skirt fell open, revealing long elegant legs and a shaved pussy. Skin a honey hue, no lines.
“Where do you get your tan?”
Breasts moved when she shrugged her shoulders.
“I’m here only every other night. It takes time to recover. Only Maria--the one with silver hair”--and she gestured with her head toward where his wife was now sitting stride the old man, naked legs outside his, naked arms around his back, nipples brushing lavender silk, as she rode up and down, “works every night. I don’t see how she does it. But then she doesn’t have a choice.
“I live in the judge’s guest house. He’s divorced and likes to see me lying around the swimming pool. Thus the tan.”
“I assume he avails himself of the facilities,” nodding toward her body.
“Yes. But that’s easy: one man a day. Not a roomful all night.”
“Climb up on the table, facing me. Spread your knees and play with yourself.”
He watched her assume the position Mary had been in before the old man. Long legs open, feet in black high heels on either side of him. “Spread your lips.”
Coral nail polished fingers obeyed, revealing coral inner flesh, and a deposit of gooey come.
“How many men have you fucked so far tonight.”
Her smooth forehead wrinkled as she tried to remember.
“I’m not sure. Eight. Nine.”
Not even to know how cocks had penetrated her. Just as Mary had not known how many she had sucked off last night. Perfect.
“Do you ever come?”
“Sometimes. Not often. Though I usually fake it. Most of them want that.”
Jeff’s eyes moved beyond the lovely young Norwegian to where Maria was still riding. He unzipped his pants. “Come down here. Onto my lap.”
“Which hole?” she asked.
“Your cunt. For now.”
----------
Jeff didn’t come in Nikki then. He wanted to save it. Just let her slowly ride him as Maria was riding the old man. He ran his hands over her slim, tight body, enjoyed the feel of her nipples brushing his palms, the flexing muscles in her ass, until across the room the old man’s wrinkled face compressed, mouth opened, taloned fingers dug into Maria’s ass.
When the black trousered legs stopped thrashing, Jeff watched Maria untwine herself, kneel and carefully lick the shriveled cock clean before gently tucking it in and zipping. Liver-spotted hand patted her on the head. Good dog.
Standing, she turned and again took only a few steps before another hand reached out and grabbed her, spun her against the wall, her hands high and spread, the man kicked her feet apart into the classic police search position, unzipped his pants, shoved his cock up her ass, grabbed her hips and fucked fast and hard, while other men lined up.
“Turn around,” said Jeff. “I want it in your ass now.”
The beautiful Nikki obeyed, reaching back to guide him in as she lowered. His cock caught for a moment at the entrance. She forced her flesh all the way down. Cheeks against fabric. Tight. Hot. Before lifting, then falling, lifting and falling.
Apparently the man fucking Maria came. When he stepped back, she stood there panting, palms still against the wall, face covered by silver hair, head lowered in helpless resignation as she waited for the next.
Five men fucked her, all in the ass as far as Jeff could tell, wresting animal cries from her. Grunts. Gasps. Moans. Whimpers. A calloused brown hand grabbed silver hair, pulled her head back, changing her mindless chant, “Oh, God. Oh, God. Oh, God,” on each inward thrust into, “I’m yours. I’m yours. I’m yours.”
Streaks of come ran from gaping hole down both thighs, before she realized there were no more, pushed herself from the wall, turned and was lassoed by a short, wiry Latino, wearing oil stained jeans and work shirt. A truck driver or a mechanic.
Jeff had noticed that while standing watching her being serially butt-fucked, the small man had removed his wide leather belt and looped the end through the buckle. Jeff almost came in Nikki’s ass at the thought of the man beating his wife. But now he saw the man drop the loop over Maria’s head and draw it tight around her throat.
“Stop,” he told Nikki and held her ass motionless with his full cock buried inside.
The man stared up at the taller woman’s face with an evil grin, snarled something, then led her like a haltered animal across the smoky room. Jeff again watched enslaved naked back, rolling ass disappear. No one else had taken her from the floor. What, he wondered, did the man want to do to her that required privacy.
He lifted Nikki’s ass from his lap.
“Not yet.” His breath was ragged. “Drink your drink.”
When after fifteen minutes Maria returned, she was crying, though Jeff could not see any new marks on her body.
Her tears excited a trio of Chinese businessmen sitting in the next booth, all dressed identically in gray suits, white shirts, black shoes. Only their neckties differed. One solid. One a paisley pattern. One stripped. And one wore tortoise shell eyeglasses. That one stood and was seen by one of the bouncers. He gestured toward Maria. The bouncer nodded and took her away from a black man who had just claimed her, pointing across the room toward the Japanese.
To reach them, she walked right past Jeff, but didn’t see him through eyes glazed with tears, exhaustion, alcohol.
“Kneel,” ordered tortoise shell.
Yellow hands took her head, one on each side and turned it toward him, studied the beautiful face. Chinese tongue extended and licked salt tears.
“Put your hands behind your back and stick out your tits.”
Maria did.
Black eyes narrowed with satisfaction. A blurred yellow hand swung from right to left, slapping her left breast, then the right on the back swing.
“Ohh. Please. Don’t.”
Again, this time cracking against her face, spinning her head back and forth, leaving bright red marks.
“You don’t tell me what to do.”
The tears he sought flowed as he slapped breasts again. “Do you?”
“N..no.”
In the next booth, Jeff’s fingers were white-knuckled around his glass.
“Stand up, pig. Turn around. Face the room. Let everyone watch you come.”
When Mary/Maria had stood and turned, he got to his feet behind her, circled her body with one arm just below her breasts, forcing them upward.
One of the other Chinese stood and undressed completely. This was unusual. Most of the men in the club remained mostly clothed, only taking out their cocks or lowering their pants; while most of the women were mostly naked, and looked even more so by contrast.
This man was trim and shorter than tortoise shell, whose black haired head was even with Maria’s. His cock was already hard and seeping.
Without instruction from the one who seemed the boss, he sat down in front of Maria, looked up at her exposed cunt, reached up with one hand and spread lips, inserted the fingers of the other. Pulled them out glistening. Pushed them in farther. Shoes long lost, Maria grunted, arched up on bare red painted toes, held firmly by the arm around her chest.
“Aggahumph!” As the yellow hand vanished inside, bruised labia closing on hairy wrist.
She remained balanced on her toes. Juices ran down the Chinese forearm as the fist fucked. In and out of clinging labia. Sometimes twisting, causing green eyes to open wide.
“Come for us slut. Come for us!” Demanded tortoise shell.
Ragged breathing. Her legs trembling. Knees bending, unable to support her. Jeff was afraid he was going to come in his pants.
A yellow hand moved to her tattooed throat, grasped, tightened.
“Do it,” she croaked. “Do it! Kill me! Kill me!” And, shuddering on the edge of unconsciousness, came.
The night began to blur.
The drinks kept coming and so did the men. And Maria, too, at least twice more that Jeff observed.
When the Chinese men had finally finished with her, she made her way, limping, to the raised platform stage, where a fully dressed Panamanian man was lying on his back.
Maria stepped over his head and lowered her leaking cunt and asshole onto his face.
“What the hell is that all about?” Jeff asked Nikki.
“He owes Neptuno money and pissed him off with lame excuses for not paying. Now he cleans Maria on stage every night until he pays in full.”
“Only her?”
Nikki nodded. “And if he doesn’t make her come, or at least a good fake, they both get whipped.”
Maria shifted from squatting to kneeling. Grimy upturned soles of bare feet. Her hips rocked slowly back and forth over the Panamanian’s hidden face and tongue. Her hands moved to her breasts, cupped, squeezed. Head fell back. Exposed bruised throat still bearing marks of Chinese fingers. Face twisted into a rictus of hatred. Not just for the man slavishly licking her. But for them all, as the tattoo said. For herself. For her hopeless life. “Suck it all out, you shit. Swallow other men’s scum. Lick. Oh, God. Shit god. Ohhh!” Her body fell forward. Silver haired head on the platform, as the crowd laughed and applauded.
Some time later--Jeff glanced at his watch but the hands didn’t register--another man, a young blond American from his accent, made her come again on a bet from a group of friends.
The blond man was strong and cocky in both senses, pulling a tube of flesh from his jeans almost as thick as Colonel Linares and longer.
He fucked Maria on her back on a table, her feet flat on the edge, knees parted. Despite her inevitable soreness, his pounding force and fat shaft were not to be denied. And finally her body arched up to meet his, bowed, supported only by the balls of her feet and her shoulders.
It must become torture, Jeff thought with satisfaction: the constant sex, like being hooked up to a fucking machine for hours, nerves in mouth and cunt and breasts and ass stimulated far beyond pleasure into pain.
The crowd had changed. Men came and went. Only Jeff and one or two of the others who had arrived early were still present. And the whores had changed. Not different women, but they were now mostly glassy eyed with exhaustion and alcohol.
“Our drinks aren’t watered,” Nikki told him. “Neptuno knows that the early crowd wants us to feel what they do to us; but those who come late want us in a drunken stupor. It gets rough toward dawn.”
Nikki was kneeling, her head pressed against the red vinyl cushion while Jeff slowly fucked her ass and watched Maria sprawled, legs splayed, at a table halfway across the room One bare foot was on the table, the other on the floor. The man in the chair beside her, with heavily tattooed arms and the thick body of a laborer, was shoving three or four fingers into her cunt, then her mouth, up her ass, then to her mouth. Alternating. And from time to time upending a bottle of tequila into her mouth as well.
While making his way across the floor, one of the bouncers stopped behind Maria and, disregarding the other man, took out his cock and turned her head.
Without even looking to see who it was, Maria opened her mouth.
The big man shoved all the way in. Made four deep strokes. Only four. Held her head steady on the fourth. Jeff could see her throat swallowing.
When he was finished, the man pushed the whore’s head away, zipped up and continued across the room.
Her acceptance. The utter banality of the way her mouth was offered and used. Pushed Jeff over the edge and he came in Nikki’s lovely ass.
Jeff was tired. Then what must she be feeling?
He needed to take a piss, and the thought hit him.
Neptuno was standing by the bar.
Unsteadily Jeff stood and made his way there.
“Will yo...you put her in that cylinder?”
“I thought you’d want to fuck her?”
“So did I; but I don’t. Not now anyway.”
“All right.”
Jeff saw her face drop when the bouncer, who had so prosaically come in her mouth, took her elbow and spoke to her.
At a distance he followed them to the back of the club, to the corner with the stench of an unwashed urinal. A drenched plump black girl was pleased to be unexpectedly replaced.
Deep shadows in the crack of Maria’s ass as she stepped into the cylinder, the clear door closed behind her, and she went to her knees in two inches of urine.
She did not kneel long before the first cock appeared. She opened her mouth. A yellow stream arced out and hit its target. She knew to swallow. At least as much as she could. Jeff saw the stream move up toward her eyes, which she quickly squeezed closed. Slowly down. Nose. Mouth. Chin. Breasts. Trickle to a stop.
Maria leaned forward. Licked the last drops from the tip.
Jeff stood to one side and watched while a succession of men pissed on his wife or had her suck them off. Or both.
The pool in which she was kneeling was at least an inch deeper. Hair hung down sopping. Body glistened. Hard belly swelling. A tube within a tube: piss entering at one end; herself pissing at the other.
He made his way to one of the openings in the cylinder and took out his cock, stuck it through, almost instantly felt warm obedient mouth enclose. Felt studded tongue. That was different. Felt suction. Smiled with satisfaction at whore mouth, his wife’s whore mouth, finally trying to please him.
Making her work hard for it, he stood pressed against the plastic, looking down at the top of her head, her shoulders, the upper slopes of her breasts, the half moons of her ass.
When he finally let go, he felt her hold his cock in her mouth and swallow all his come as she hadn’t for years. If you had, bitch, he thought, you wouldn’t be swallowing twenty loads a night now. Not to mention gallons of piss. I’ll bet you wish you had a second chance.
“No,” he said when he felt her mouth start to pull away. She understood and warmth remained.
It always took him a while to piss after he came, internal valves shifting.
One small trickle. A pause before the full stream.
Jeff Healy watched his beautiful unknowing wife swallow. And swallow. Some trickled between enclosing lips, but most went into her belly.
Bladder empty, he withdrew from mouth and cylinder. Zipped. “Goodbye, Mary.” Turned.
Though veils of exhaustion and tequila, battered flesh, abused nerve endings, the words somehow reached.
“Jeff?” Tentatively. Then a scream. “JEFF?”
Jeff Healy smiled as he stumbled away.
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Author’s Note
This is as far as I plan to take this story, for now and probably forever; so you can provide your own ending. I can imagine several, perhaps preferring the one in which Mary eventually convinces Jeff to take her back; but Neptuno refuses to free her, finding pleasure in the knowledge that her nightly abuse now tortures both Healys. ‘Blanco y Negro’ was originally intended only as a brief interlude while I decided how to proceed with ‘meat’, several unrelated and unexpected events prevented me from working on it this year, and I apologize for taking so long. Had I known how little time I would have, I would not have started.
My thanks to those of you who have reviewed my stories and/or emailed your appreciation.
I will complete ‘meat’ when I can, but I have no idea when that will be.
Until then…
WLT
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