Power Trip

Immediately she began to tear at my clothes. She even ripped off a shirt button. Before I knew it, she had unzipped me and was down on her knees sucking the whole length of my long dick. No. No. No. This had not been the plan.

Despite myself, my dick started getting hard again. I may have been repulsed, but my dick liked blowjobs and was getting off on this. She was making all kind of obscene noises as she fed on my prick. At the same time she was stripping off her own clothes. After she had denuded the two of us, she pulled me down on the bed, on top of her. "Come on, honey. Give me your cock. I want to feel your cock inside me." She was squeezing it and moving it between her pussylips. The Slut.

Psychologically this was all wrong for me, but a fuck is a fuck. And as she rolled around and screamed under me like a total maniac, I could only respond. I followed her request and began slamming my cock into her. It felt good.

"Fuck me, baby. Fuck me. Massage the cushiony walls of my pretty pussy. You like it? You like it? You like my pussy?"

"I love your pussy," I lied. I was a gentleman after all. I couldn't tell her she disgusted me. But my cock wasn't as disgusted as I was. It seemed to have a mind of its own, and almost against my will I began to feel it burn and tingle. My hot seed was going to go shooting out into her. She sensed it too, and redoubled her passion, grinding her pussy lips against my pubic hairs, and wailing.

Once I was dressed, I stumbled out onto the street and hailed a cab. My stomach was doing revolutions and I was having trouble keeping my dinner down. Was this an example of an American girl? A slut? A tramp? A sex-mad maniac? Where was that innate female diffidence? How could I triumph by seducing a cock-mad trollop? I hadn't overcome her reluctance. She had overcome mine. I saw immediately that I would never be able to act out my dreams of masculine domination with a western female. They were not pure and virginal and seducible. They were brazen, ferocious and dick-crazy.

What was going to happen to me? I was young and handsome and desirable. But the kind of woman I needed to make me feel like a man didn't exist here. They existed in Kahara, and I couldn't go back to Kahara. Back in Kahara, I was literally a dead man. Was I doomed to a life of celibacy? No. No. I couldn't accept that fate. That was worse than death. What could I do to satisfy my lust for sex and my lust for power? I pondered and pondered.

I pondered for weeks. I started drinking. My life had taken an ugly turn. I was sitting in O'Malley's Bar and actually crying into my beer, when a guy sat down next to me.

"Come on, fella," he said. "It can't be that bad."

"It is," I protested. "It is. You don't know."

"What is it? Some cunt?"

"Exactly," I exclaimed, downing the rest of my beer.

"Don't let it get to you," He advised me. "Women. Real ballbusters. I've had problems myself."

We started talking. He was a nice guy. His name, it turned out, was Archie Callahan, and he was a cop in the neighborhood. He had just gotten off duty and had stopped in for a few glasses. He said he liked the camaraderie of bars. Getting away from the dames and just chewing the fat with other guys. He told me all about his girlfriend, Gladys. About how she was always bitching and complaining.

I totally made up a whole story about my beautiful girlfriend, Annie, and how I had loved her so much, and wanted to marry her, but she had turned me down, and eloped with my best friend, Olaf. He squeezed my shoulder compassionately. He completely understood. As he squeezed my shoulder in friendship, I studied him, and an idea began creeping into my tortured brain.

"Why don't you come over to my place? I have lots of cold beer in my refrigerator. Why should we pay the bartender? We can go over to my place and continue our discussion," I suggested.

He weighed the idea, and it seemed reasonable. "Sure. Why not?" He agreed.

We each paid our tabs and headed toward the door, chatting. I had to look up as we walked side by side. He was about six inches taller than I. Muscular and toned. With thick black hair. A real alpha male. I had never thought about the conquest of a man. But why not? It was obvious that this guy was straight. And as opposed to most women, he wasn't already dick crazy. So if I got him to take my dick, it would be a conquest. Right?

When we got to my apartment, I sat him down on the couch and went into the kitchen. I took two beers out of the fridge, and pulled the tabs. I walked back and sat down on the couch next to him, handing him one beer, and putting mine on the coffee table in front of the couch. He took a swallow, and made a sound of appreciation. How was I going to do this?"

"Women are really a bitch," I said, restarting our previous conversation.

"Yeah," he nodded in affirmation.

"But what are you going to do? I mean you've got to have a chick if you want to get your rocks off. And god. I love getting my rocks off."

"Yeah," he nodded in affirmation.

"You like getting your rocks off?" I asked naively.

He looked at me like I was stupid. "Of course," he answered. "Who doesn't like getting their rocks off?"

Yeah," I said. "Who doesn't?" and I sort of automatically started rubbing my cock and balls through my pants, as if he couldn't see what I was doing. I was pretending I was in a reverie, and didn't realize that he was watching my cock get hard inside my pants. I gave a quick look down at his groin, and saw I was having a little effect on him. There was definitely something growing.

"Man. What I wouldn't give now to have some chick here, pulling down my zipper, reaching into my pants, pulling out my cock, going down on it." I was half talking to him, half talking to myself with my eyes half shut. I was fingering my cock and balls. I shot a glance. He was too.

"Just think about a pair of luscious lips, sucking on a big, thick, meaty cock, with a smooth angry red head. Hard, and red and angry."

"Yeah." He was letting his imagination go wild. His eyes were glazing over.

I knew what I was going to do, now. I was going to make this big, tall, handsome heterosexual policeman my pussy bitch. I was going to make him service me and beg for my cock. I could seduce him. I could conquer him. I knew it. This would be my new power trip. I would get straight white men to go down on me, to take my cock up their virgin asses. To beg me to let them be my pussyslaves. This was even more exciting than corrupting Salima had been.

"Oh, I'm touching my big hard thick angry red cock. Big hard thick angry red cock. Big hard thick angry red cock," I repeated over and over. The words seemed to be hypnotic. He couldn't tear his eyes away from my lap. I began to lower my zipper. I reached in and dragged it out. My eyes were closed, as I was stroking and stroking. I tried to keep the smile from playing around the corners of my lips. This was serious stuff. This was sex. This was cock.

"Ohh," I moaned. "I wish someone would suck on my cock. I wish someone would suck on my big hard thick angry red cock. Big hard thick angry red cock. Big hard thick angry red cock." I kept my voice low and hypnotic. I peeked out of the corner of my left eye. He was stroking his own dick, and he was starting to bend forward a little. Yes. He was lowering his head toward my cock. His handsome lips could no longer resist the big hard thick angry red cock.

When his face was about six inches away, I wrapped my hand in his black curly hair, and pushed down. "Suck it," I ordered. "Suck my big hard thick angry red cock. It wants your sweet mouth around it so bad. It wants your sweet soft wet mouth. Suck it, man. Suck it." He did.

I think the first contact of prick-mouth startled him a little. I felt him jump back slightly at the feel of something unfamiliar. But then I just urged his head down with my hand, and finally he had it in his mouth. He was giving another man head. I bet he never imagined in a million years that he would ever do that.

"Oh, yeah. That feels so good. Suck my dick, guy. Suck my big thick dick. Get it all nice and wet and slippery. How do you like that dick? You like it, Archie? You like sucking on my big dick?"

"Uh huh," he affirmed wetly, slobbering away.

"I knew you would," I said. "I knew you'd dig sucking on my dick. But I've got something you're going to like even better."

"What?" he asked, puzzled.

"I'll show you. Take off your fucking clothes. Take 'em off," I ordered in a harsh voice. He seemed to respond to the treatment. My authoritative behavior was actually turning him on. He stood up and began peeling off his clothes. I did the same. My dick stood straight out. And it was very wet. When we were both naked, I threw him face down on the couch, and mounted his high buttocks. My cock was still a slippery, but I added some spit. I also spit on my fingers and began working them into his hole.

"No. No. No," he protested. "Not that. I don't want to get fucked up the ass."

"You have to get fucked up the ass," I said. "You need to."

"No. No. No," he sobbed. He was really saying "yes, yes, yes.' He just didn't know it. And besides, 'no, no, no' was what I wanted to hear. And also, he hadn't socked me. He was just whimpering a little, hoping I would force him to accept the feminine role.

"Take my big dick inside your pussycuntass." I shoved it in. It was a little tight but it went in. He screamed and started tossing around. I guess it hurt, but I didn't care. I just continued to slam away, riding on his firm round bubbles.

""AAAGGHHH. AAAAGGGHHH. No. It hurts. Take it out. Take it out," he sobbed. But he wasn't trying to throw me off his back.

"Ride my cock, you fucking pussybitch. You cuntwhore. Take it like a man. Take it like a woman. Take it like the woman you are."

He was now taking it. He was raising his ass up onto it and making disgusting mewling sounds. Such a cunt. But I had done it. I had made him my slave, my woman, my bitch, my whore. I had dominated him completely. A tall, handsome, straight, masculine, New York policeman. This was a good power trip.

I hammered his fleshy ass with my hip bones, and when my Doric column was at it's very deepest inside his lost city of Pompeii, Vesuvius erupted, pouring out scorching lava which flooded though his internal streets and temples. Pompeii would never be the same. From now on it would be a tourist attraction.

I withdrew my dick and stood up. He slowly turned on the couch and looked up at me, smiling shyly. "That was pretty good," he said. "Pretty unexpected, but pretty good. Did you like it?"

I scowled at him. This was my moment of triumph. "Come on. Put your clothes on and get out of here, you pussyass queer. You girlieman. You're disgusting. You fag."

His jaw dropped and I saw his hand curl into a fist. He was about to punch me out.

"I wouldn't do that, if I were you," I cautioned. "I might have to call the police and tell them you got mad at me after you let me fuck your cop ass. That it was sort of like a lover's quarrel."

His hand dropped to his side. He was dumbstruck. He had never encountered this kind of behavior before. He sneered and me, and began getting dressed. I sat in an armchair and lazily played with my cock, as I smirked.

"I'll get you one of these days," he threatened me, as I let him out the door. I just smiled.

The only trouble was, how was I ever going to top this? I kept going around to different bars, but the right opportunity just didn't present itself. I needed someone big, masculine, heterosexual....etc. etc. There were a lot of qualifications that my next serial rape victim would have to possess. It wasn't easy.

One night, as I was walking home from a bar, I thought I heard footsteps following me. I looked around, but nothing. I kept walking. There they were again. Strange. Strange. I wondered if it maybe could be Archie, planning a little revenge. I would have to watch my ass.

Footsteps. Shadows. Feelings. All the time. What was it? What could it be? I didn't see anything. Was I becoming paranoid?

This went on for several days. At one point I turned a corner and instead of walking, I threw my back against a building. Stealthily, I sneaked a peek into the street I had just turned off of. My blood froze. About thirty feet back, now walking quickly, dressed in a brown business suit, but with shining black head and facial hair was slim, dangerous looking Turku. Oh, my god. He had followed me to New York. What was I going to do? Was he going to kill me? A shiver of fear ran down my back. I had been so cocky before. But now....but now, I felt a small wave of panic. I should have run, but I needed to take another look. I peeked around the corner again. Turku was advancing quickly. It was then that I glanced across the street and saw Mugar. He was in a blue suit.

Mugar had a wider angle of vision to where I was pressed against the building around the corner. In another couple of seconds he would be able to see me. My face broke out in a sweat. I didn't know what to do.

I ran and I ran. I didn't dare turn around, but I could hear running footsteps behind me. I knew both Turku and Mugar were chasing me. Where could I go? What could I do? Should I duck into a store? But I would be trapped......What could I do?

Suddenly I knew I was saved. "Thank God. Thank God," I babbled. Right in front of me now was the broad blue-shirted back of a wonderful New York City Policeman. "Officer. Officer," I screamed, grabbing his arm. "You've got to help me. There are two men who are trying to kill me. Help me. Please, help me. Take me to the police station." I begged and I pulled at his arm.

When he turned around to face me, my heart sank. Oh, my god. Oh, no. It was Archie.

"What's your problem, sir?" He asked formally and coldly.

"There are two men behind me trying to kill me. You've got to help me."

He looked over my shoulder. "I don't see anyone, sir. It must be your imagination."

"It's not. It's not. They're going to kill me." I started to cry.

"I think maybe you ought to see a psychiatrist, sir. There's nobody there. You'd better move along now."

"No, please." I grabbed at his arms. He roughly pulled them from my grip. "I think you'd better move along now, sir," He said humorlessly and coldly. And then he walked away. I watched his back fade off into the distance. I was lost. And then I heard the footsteps again. I started to run. Now I heard running footsteps. Getting closer. A hand grabbed my left arm. A hand grabbed my right arm. They pulled me to a halt.

"We know where you live. We shall go to your apartment." That was the one on my left, Turku.

"You left us so suddenly. Without even saying goodbye." That was Mugar on my right. They clasped my arms tightly and I had no choice but to walk between them. We were going to my apartment.

Mugar released my right arm and grabbed me roughly by the neck and shoulders, so that I could use my right hand to fish my keys out of my pants pocket. Once in the door, they scouted the place and dragged me into the bedroom. They tore my clothes off, and used some of my beautiful expensive shirts that had been hanging in my closet, to tie my arms and legs to the bedposts. Turku took his open palm and began beating me across my face in both directions. "Western Pig," he shouted. "Energy company dog." He continued slapping. I knew my cheeks must be red, and my eyes were tearing.

"I'm sorry," I said, probably not too convincingly. And also it was a little late to apologize.

"You made a whore out of our beautiful sister. No man would ever have her if they knew. Thank goodness we were able to find a good surgeon in another country to restore her precious hymen. She is a virgin once again. But you will pay for what you did to Salima," uttered Turku. "You will pay for the rest of your life."

Now I was really afraid. For the rest of my life? What did that mean? Turku began taking off his clothes and folding them neatly on the armchair in my bedroom. Mugar used the desk chair for his. Before long I had two dark naked men approaching the bed to which I was strapped.

Their penises were not erect, but dangled over their orange-size balls at already more than five inches. Both members seemed to be unusually thick. Perhaps Mugar, even more than Turku.

They climbed on the bed in kneeling position. Turku on my right, and Mugar on my left. Turku began faceslapping me again. I tried to get out of harm's way, but my hands were tied. "Pigdog," shouted Turku at me, lifting his big matched set in his left hand. "Filthy Pigdog. Suck my jeesh. Suck my big jeesh." He crawled up to my mouth and forced his big jeesh between my trembling dry lips. I sucked. It was getting stiffer. And longer. And stiffer. And longer. The head of it was now pushing against my tender uvula. Then past it. I coughed. I sputtered. I phlegmed. I choked. It kept coming. "Suck it, Pigdog. Suck it."

Mugar waited his turn like a gentleman. For about three minutes. Then he gently edged his brother aside and crawled over my chest in front of my face. His cock was stiff now. And it was thicker than Turku's, though maybe a half-inch shorter. He did not, however, stick his thickness in my mouth. He raised his heavy oranges over my lips. "Suck on my zombers," he ordered. "Lick my round heavy zombers, bitchcunt."

I mouthed his hairy zombers, but I really didn't like that 'bitchcunt' appellation. Up until now, everyone else had been the bitchcunt. I had always been the supreme master. That was how I had planned my life. And now suddenly I was the bitchcunt? How had this happened to me?

After he had had enough tongue on his zombers, Mugar moved up over my face. "Stick your tongue in my ass, bitchcunt," he ordered.

"No," I said.

"No?" He couldn't believe I was refusing to do it.

"No," I insisted. "That's disgusting." Suddenly with both hands he was whacking my face. It was like he was in a frenzy. I couldn't take much more of this. Gingerly, I stuck out my tongue and began licking his asshole. It was clean, but I still didn't like the idea. He pulled his asscheeks apart, and basically sat on my open mouth as I tonguetickled his aperture.

"Yes. Yes, bitchcunt. You do that well. Keep doing it. You must practice. You will be doing this for the rest of your life."

Again, this 'rest of your life' shit. I had to admit I was a little worried.

Now, Turku touched Mugar's shoulder, and Mugar crawled aside as Turku took his place. It was like ballroom dancing. Turku had cut in on his brother. Whatever it was, I now had my tongue up Turku's hot ass. It was pretty much the same as his brother's. No better. No worse. But my cock was starting to get a little stiff. How could it? My own body was bent on betraying me. No. No. No," I said to myself. But it did little good.

Finally Turku lifted his ass off my tongue, and plunged his long cock down my throat once again. Mugar crawled down on the bed, and positioned himself, kneeling, in between my thighs. Suddenly my legs were being upraised, and I felt the blunt tip of Mugar's dark instrument, pushing at my anal opening. He hadn't even spat on his cock. It was never going to go in. I thought I was safe. Inwardly I was laughing. But then. "Yeeeeooooowww," I screamed.

I had been wrong. He had rammed it in. I was in excruciating pain. I would probably need a doctor. "Yooowww. Yoooowww. Yoooowww," I crooned, sobbing. He just shoved the rest of it in, and began plowing his hips backward and forward, tearing my delicate internal flesh. "Yoooowwww. Yoooowwww. Yooowwww," I screamed.

"Take my big cock, bitchcunt. I want to feel your ladypussy milking my mancock. Milk it." He began spanking my upraised asscheeks. Now I was hurting inside and outside. Meanwhile, Turku forced his plunger further down my throat, and I was gagging like crazy.