Black Man One Ch. 08

"Trey said it would take several weeks." she added.

"I'm sure Trey is still counting on you and appreciates you doing this." she finished.

"Yeah. I know honey, B-But I-I don't know. I j-just d-don't know." I meekly replied.

"Well, just tell Trey not to beat you up so bad next time." she suddenly said, naively.

"I-I w-will, honey. I-I'll talk to him tomorrow. I just need more time, I guess." I whimpered.

But, that next morning the young black man did not want to talk. He just wanted to "spar" and get in a good workout. He was all business and seemed determined. Once again, I got pummeled pretty good. He knocked me down many times and walked out, leaving me there to clean up.

After that second workout, I was stunned when the black stud appeared at our condo apartment. It was the day after when he knocked on the door. He was carrying different equipment.

"Oh, hi Trey." Julie said, excitedly, as she answered the door.

"Hey." he answered.

I looked over to the door from the sofa and my heart began thumping unpleasantly fast as he stepped inside.

"Do you want something to drink, Trey?" Julie asked sweetly.

"Naw. I just stopped by to drop off some equipment for your husband." he said, handing the items to Julie.

"Oh, my. What a pretty color." she exclaimed.

I had just gotten up from the sofa and made my way over to the front door with my beaten up looking face. My ego was already deflated when I noticed the smaller pink and white gloves, the matching waist harness to protect my private area, and the hot pink-colored padded head gear.

"Geezuz?! How could he do this to me?" I said to myself, embarrased and blushing.

"Yea, it is." Trey replied, grinning.

"They're just better fitting gloves and this will add better protection for our workouts." the black man explained.

"Oh, that's so sweet of you Trey. Honey, come take a look at all this pretty stuff." Julie shouted in a happy tone.

I looked at the young stud in disbelief as Julie made me "thank him" for the new items, and thank him for trying to make things easier for me. His "cocky" look into my eyes was humiliating, and my naive wife had not noticed this at all.

Tra'mon left and my wife closed the door, bringing all the new things inside. She kept talking about how "thoughtful" he was being.

"He must really appreciate you helping with his workouts to spend all this money, like this?" she said.

"Trey is really so sweet for doing this." she commented.

"Yeah, I guess s-so." I replied, quietly.

"Why are the gloves and stuff all pink?" she asked, curiously.

I looked down at the pink practice gloves with the solid white tips. It was embarrassing.

"Well, uh that's just the standard Olympic styled gloves and color." I desperately lied.

"Oh, really? Okay. Well, it's a pretty color." my wife added.

These little "workouts" continued on and on for the next 5 weeks.

During this time, Trey would not let up. I tried a few times to quit and asked him nicely if we could practice twice a week instead of 4 times a week. But, my talks of quitting only made him angrier, and the workouts became so much more difficult and embarrassing for me.

Four days a week for the next 5 weeks I was the black man's sparring partner. It was more like I was his oversized white punching bag. It felt even more demoralizing for me as Julie would look curiously at my reddened face and then back to his from across the pool. It was like she was wondering why his face didn't even look "touched" at all.

These five weeks went on, routinely.

Every evening when I returned home from work, I would see one of the 4 or 5 white women dressed immaculately heading into our building.

All of them were carrying laundry, gifts or food. Often, all three. Every next morning I would see them leaving the building looking so used and run down, like they had been roughly fucked into submission by the black stud.

Everyday, I would go into the office looking somewhat beaten up with the insecure feeling that this black man was hanging around the condo all day. The husbands worked while most of the wives stayed home, and I feared they wewre in the presence of this young, black stud at times too.

The other white husbands began to feel even more intimidated by the presence of Tra'mon. They would see obvious beating my face was taking, as well as having the knowledge of his group of white women "friends" in and out of his condo all the time.

Every night, I would be subjected to hearing Julie speaking about him, and speaking about the possible business opportunity of a workout center.

"Trey says he found the perfect spot closer to the city." she stated.

"Trey says a well planned center will make lots of money." she continued.

"Trey was looking at color schemes for his future place. He was by the pool today." she would say.

"Trey liked some of the color schemes we suggested today." she said.

"I think Trey is really committed to making this whole thing work, too." Julie said.

"Trey says there will be little competition in the area." Julie commented.

"Oh, Trey said the most interesting thing today ..." I'd hear Julie say.

It was humiliating for me to hear this every single night as she continued talking about this young, black stud with such high regard.

She seemed genuinely fascinated and impressed by him, and she seemed to agree with him on anything and everything he said.

"Trey says this is a great investment opportunity." Julie would say many, many times.

"It would be a good business for me to learn now so maybe I can open my own business in the future. That's what Trey says." Julie often commented.

When I asked my young blonde wife why she didn't want to have her "own" buisness anymore, or open her own workout center for women, she seemed to concede. She had backed off of this idea.

"Oh, I don't know if I could anymore. Trey says it can be really tough if you don't know what you're doing and all." She stated.

"Trey has so much more experience, he knows what he is doing." Julie repeated, on and on.

"I'm thinking that it would be better to invest, then learn more about the business by working in it first. That's what Trey says usually works." my wife added.

"For at least a couple of years he says." Julie would say.

"Do you think we should invest in Trey's workout center, honey?" Julie asked, many times.

I always told her it was a bad idea. I suggested that she should start up her own rather than invest in one and learn the business from the inside.

"No, honey. I-I don't want to invest in someone else's workout center business unless it's yours." I repeated numerous times.

By this time, my blonde wife had stopped commenting on my beaten up looking face from the sparring workouts with Tra'mon.

It seemed normal that my face constantly looked a little beaten up from these workouts, and it was beginning to become even more of a source of embarrassment for me because the young black man was becoming bossier with me, too.

Every other morning at 6, I was consigned to being his sparring partner. Every other morning, I was basically getting beaten up and being made to "clean up" after the workout. I wanted so badly to call it quits, but I waa afraid to mention it to Tra'mon. I grew more nervous to stop being his workout partner and tell him that I needed to stop. The last 6 times that I brought up the subject the workouts were much tougher on me, and he called me a "pussy" each time.

Without notice, and after 5 weeks, the black man changed the workouts to 6 o'clock p.m. rather than 6 in the morning.

I wasn't sure why he did this but I felt this would give me a better excuse to finally get out of it. I would "lie" and tell him that I needed to work at the office later. I prayed this would be a good excuse.

But, this disturbed him even more. He knew that I had never worked that late before and began calling me a "pussy" for trying to quit.

"P-Please, I-I just don't want to fight with you anymore." I whimpered, finally confessing.

The black stud laughed.

"Well, boy. If you don't want that pretty little wife of yours to know what a big pussy ya' are then I suggest you continue for at least a few more weeks." He said.

"At least until I find another sparring partner." He said.

"A f-f-few more weeks?" I cowered.

"Yeah, 6 tomorrow night. Be here. Understood?" He said.

"Well, O-okay. If it's j-just f-for a few more w-weeks then I guess I can do my best. I-I guess that will be okay." I conceded.

When I told Julie about the sparring workouts being changed to 6 o'clock after work, he eyes nearly lit up.

"Oh, wow. Really? That's great. Maybe I can watch you guys practice then, huh?" she shouted.

"No way, Julie. No. You can never watch!" I howled, scared nearly out of my mind.

"Oh, why not" she asked, curiously.

"It's just practice, right?" she asked.

"Well, y-yes. But, it's just not something for women. It's just a guys' thing. Please." I lied.

"I guess. Well, okay then. You guys, I swear." she seemed to concede.

The evening workouts became even rougher on me.

It was like the young black stud was angry about something and, although I wore my pink head gear and harness all the time, he was hitting me harder and harder, and with greater frequency. More so than ever before.

It was about the fourth "evening" sparring workout session when Tra'mon beat me up pretty bad. It was a Wednesday. During other workouts, the black man hardly spoke to me, with the exception of a few names, grunts and the standing order to "clean up" afterwards.

This evening was different.

"Your pretty lil' wife says you don't care to invest in my business." he said, popping a few punches into me.

"I-I-I just don't know. I d-didn't say no or anything. I-I was th-thinking about it, th-that's all." I pleaded as he continued hitting me.

"Well, I need an answer, boy!" He shouted.

"I want a final answer on Friday." he said.

"I have a match on Sunday so I'm gonna need to double up on our sparring session this Friday." he ordered, tossing several more punches to my face.

"O-O-Okay." I answered timidly.

"If all goes well, it could be our last sparring session, boy." He suddenly said, hitting me 5 more times.

"Understood?" He said., another 5 punches hitting me.

I could not answer as the black stud pounded me with a quick flurry of punches until I fell over to the padded floor, once again.

He stood above me dripping with perspiration.

"50 grand. I'll see you Friday, whiteboy." he simply said, then walked away.

It was just past 7 p.m. when I finally got off the floor and finished cleaning up the black man's sweat from the padded mats. I staggered my way back to our condo. I was exhausted from being pummeled harer than usual this time and I was thankful for having that padded headgear, even if it was in that demoralizing pink color.

Still, my face was extremely red when I walked in to see Julie.

Oh my god, are you okay honey?" she asked, startled.

"I-I just need to lay d-down, honey. J-Just for awhile." I replied, humiliated again.

"Are you sure? I thought Trey was taking things easier?" she asked.

"Let me get you an ice pack, honey." she shouted, concerned.

As I lay upon my bed beaten and defeated, I began thinking about Tra'mon's words.

He was saying that these sparring workouts could end on Friday, and I wasn't sure exactly what he meant. He mentioned the investement of $50,000.00 and it began to feel like some sort of ultimatum to me.

"Was it?" I asked myself.

I had been hearing my pretty young blonde wife talk about the investment opportunity for weeks on end. It seemed more important to her than it did for me, but now I was thinking this could change things for me too.

I knew this was merely an excuse to stop getting beaten up during these workouts, and maybe my investment will give him something else to do and stop the workouts altogether.

A small part of me knew that I could just quit and be done with it. But, the reality of the situation was that I was afraid of him. I knew he would become angrier if I did quit being his sparring partner. I feared that. I was truly scared and intimidated to quit on him during this entire time, especially now.

Julie placed the cold compress onto my head as I layed down, she stared at me longer than I felt comfortable with. She seemed concerned, of course, but also quite curious at the same time.

"Well, you need some rest. You just rest honey." she said, as she left the bedroom.

I was awakened by the muffled sound of her cell phone ringing from the kitchen. I was in a "daze" as I looked over to the clock to see that it was nine-thirty.

"Geez. I've been asleep more than 2 hours." I thought to myself.

After sitting on the edge of the bed for a moment, I stumbled over to the bedroom door quietly. That is when I began to overhear my beautiful wife talking on the phone.

She was talking to one of the other wives, Karen, as I barely peeked out to see her sitting at the kitchen table with her back turned to me.

"Yeah. I'm just in for the night." she said, casually.

"Richard got beaten up, again." she began saying.

"Yeah, he's still passed out and all." she continued.

"Pretty bad. Yeah, Trey beat him up so bad this time." she said so matter of factly.

"Yeah, I know. You're right. He's lots bigger than Trey. Well, lots taller anyway. Richard's been beat up a lot, though. This time looks like it was too much for him." she voiced to Karen.

There I was, standing there cowering in my bedroom listening to my young, blonde wife talking to another woman about another man beating up on her husband all the time. She was discussing and actually describing how I've been getting "beat up" for weeks now, and that maybe I should think about stopping.

"I know, yes. I know. He says it's normal for boxing practice stuff but I never see Trey looking like this. Not even close." I overheard her say.

"Yes, that's true." she said to her caller. "Just boys being boys, I guess."

"Okay, Karen. I'll talk to you tomorrow. Okay, bye." she said, finally ending the call.

It was humiliating to overhear this coming from the lips of my pretty young white wife. I had always assumed that she knew this was just practice, or sparring practice. I assumed she understood things like this could happen to anyone during these types of workouts. That they "did" happen to most everyone. But, now she was describing and interpreting my workouts with Tra'mon as "her husband getting beaten up."

It was hard to swallow. Inside, I knew that Julie was right. I had been literally getting my "ass kicked" by the younger black man and had been trying to play it off as no big deal.

Demoralized, I returned to my bed and pretended to be asleep. The humiliation I felt was uncanny, and I decided that I needed to do something to stop all this. I knew that I couldn't take too much more.

It was ridiculous that I had to endure this humiliation in a futile attempt to appear more "masculine" to my wife. Although I was terrified to have to "reason" with the young, black stud, I began considering his words. The words he chose after that last workout indicated that we may be able to stop. He merely suggested the large investment this could end his participation in the fight club so he can concentrate on getting a gym started.

Defeatedly, I decided that I would do just that.

The next morning, I told Julie that the investment to Trey's workout center might be a good idea, if that is what would make her happy.

"Well, if it makes you happy honey then okay." I explained, lying to her once again.

She was elated.

"Oh my god. That's great. We should celebrate or something." she suggested, excitedly.

"No, no honey. That's okay. No celebration. I'll just let Tra'mon know on Friday. I still want to think about it a little more." I told her.

"Oh, well okay. But, it would be silly not to at least have a toast and celebrate. What's the big deal?" she asked.

I couldn't answer. I knew, deep down, it was a mild and round about form of this studly black man blackmailing me.

Yet, it was an unmentioned one. Not directly, anyway. It was hard for me to explain to my blonde wife that I was intimidated by him, and I thought the described "investment" in his business venture would get him to ease up on me. More importantly, it was suggested we could finally end the sparring sessions.

Honestly, I was "wimping" out.

On Thursday, I thought long and hard about it. On Friday, I went to my bank and had a cashier's check for the 50 thousand made out to the young black stud, Tra'mon Smith.

I was rushed to do so, and in our haste the bank clerk forgot to have me sign the check. I forgot about this as well as I simply tucked the check away into a neat manila envelope before leaving the bank.

It was 15 minutes before six o'clock when I arrived home. This was the very first day that I did not see one of those beautiful white women walking to the building to see the black stud.

It was unusual, but I passed it off for now because my mind was somewhere else. I rushed to our luxurious condo apartment to let Julie know that I was, in fact, agreeing to the investment before I headed downstairs to the workout room to meet Tra'mon. Hopefully, for the last workout.

"He should be pleased." I thought to myself.

Julie was not there. The note on the kitchen table read, "ran out to the store" and I quickly texted her to inform her.

"That's great! We should celebrate." she texted back, again bringing this up.

"I don't think we need to. I'm supposed to meet Tra'mon in 5 minutes for the workout." my return text read.

"Oh, stinkers!" she texted back.

"Well, have a good workout." the next text read.

"Ok, bye." was my return text.

I grabbed the envelope and headed downstairs to meet with the young black man. Part of me was thrilled to finally have the opportunity to end these sparring workouts with the rough black man. The other part nervous about this last workout.

A smaller part of me tried to reason with myself that this really could be a good investment for Julie and I.

An even smaller part tried reasoning that this was making my young, white wife happy. That it could be teaching her about business investments. If it doesn't work, she will learn. If it does then she will feel like she has been a successful part of making money, and learn about starting her own business.

By far, the largest part of me was feeling nervous, intimidated and defeated. I truly felt that investing in this young black man's business venture would make him less aggressive with me. Perhaps, it would cause me to fear him less.

"Maybe he will be nicer to me now and not embarrass me, or the other white husbands so much?" I thought, trying to convince myself.

When I arrived, Tra'mon was not there. I looked at my watch and it was 6:02 p.m., which caused me to think I was late. I was dressed in my pink sparring gear as I looked around the gym and then out the glass entry doors leading to the pool.

That is when I finally saw him!

The young black stud was walking towards the doors from the pool in the most non chalant and "cocky" manner. He wasn't dressed for a workout at all. Rather, he was wearing perhaps the flimsiest white nylon spandex bikini speedoes suit to date.

He simply strolled into the gym in just this white bikini and a pair of tan sandals.

For just an instant, I felt relieved by the fact we weren't going to be sparring today. He certainly was not dressed to work out, and it seemed like he had been hanging out by the pool all day. His enormous cock was rudely and obnoxiously flopping around in the pouch of those thin bikinis as he walked in and kicked off his sandals.