tagNonConsent/ReluctanceAbducted Social Worker

Abducted Social Worker


WARNING: Please do not read this work if subjects containing non-consensual sex, racism, drug use and violence offend you. The work is fictional and the author does not condone such behavior in real life. If you are easily offended STOP READING NOW.


The September sun beats down on Lisa through the open sunroof of her blue Acura as she pulls up to her last case for the day in the middle of the projects. The young, 22-year-old accepted this job with the Department of Children and Families (DCF) three months ago after graduating from college. Just getting the swing of things, she looks forward to successfully finishing her probationary period with the agency and perhaps pursuing a master's degree.

A confident, well educated woman with a bright future, Lisa worries more about the security of her car in this terrible neighborhood than her own safety. This is a family reassigned to Lisa's supervision due to child neglect - a 38-year-old single mother with three children.

It has been a long day and Lisa looks forward to returning home and starting the weekend even though her husband, Doug, is on deployment in Afghanistan and she will be alone. She plans on completing the four page letter to him she started yesterday evening. Like her other love notes to Doug, this one will be scented with her best perfume and sealed with a lipstick imprint of her kiss. She married Doug two months ago before his departure with the military.

More beautiful than she realizes, Lisa stands a medium height with a petite figure, the result of regular exercise and healthy diet. She sports firm, C-cup breasts, a cute, round butt, and soft, brunette hair reaching slightly past her shoulders. Smooth, unblemished skin, high cheekbones, a little nose and big, blue eyes comprise her angular face.

Wearing an attractive, black pantsuit with grey pinstripes, her loud heels announce her approach as she travels the walkway to the apartment.

Lisa knocks on the door. A black female answers.

"Hi, I'm Lisa Codell with the Department of Children and Families. Are you Shaquanda Green?" Lisa inquires, a bright smile revealing her perfect teeth from regular visits to the dentist since childhood.

Growing up in a white, middle class neighborhood, Lisa has had limited exposure to blacks prior to taking this job. Like many young people, Lisa has plans for the future and wants to make a positive difference in the world.

"I is Shaquanda," the black woman says. She looks fairly attractive. Light brown eyes and a golden complexion combined with an aquiline nose hint at Hispanic or European influence somewhere in her ancestry. She is medium build -- not fat but definitely thick and muscular. Shaquanda drapes herself in expensive gold jewelry: rings on several fingers and thick chain necklaces.

"Hi Shaquanda, may I come in to check the kids and their home environment today?"

For eight years DCF has been sending social workers to Shaquanda to check on her kids. She knows these visits usually take an hour or two, sometimes longer to interview each child. Shaquanda hasn't bothered telling DCF yet that she recently sent her children to live with their aunt. "Ya can't come in now. I's got company," Shaquanda answers impatiently.

Lisa isn't sure how to react. In her three months with the agency no one has refused scheduled visits.

"Ma'am, I'm sorry. But I have to see your kids and where they live. If you don't let me the DCF could take your children into protective custody," Lisa warns. "I only want to help."

This social worker is really attractive. Shaquanda decides to play her a while, perhaps finding a way into the young woman's panties. "Ya threatening me?" Shaquanda sneers with her neck swerving side to side. Her dark hair in braids with costly extensions and bright red beads at their ends pendulously swings with the movement of her head.

Shaquanda's hostility shocks Lisa. Lisa tries being diplomatic, "No, no, you don't understand. Please, ma'am. I'm on your side. But they could take your children if you don't let me do my job."

This cute little social worker is a far cry from the fat, older, black women that previously visited -- right up Shaquanda's alley.

Shaquanda has liked girls since childhood. She never met her father and lived with an old black man as a kid who she knew as Uncle Joe. Her mother, a hopeless drug addict, left Shaquanda to roam the streets at an early age.

Sexual abuse started early for Shaquanda. Uncle Joe couldn't get erections, so he paid Shaquanda and her other female friends to do things to each other while he watched. He woke her many nights touching her private places and she discovered she preferred girls to boys.

But Shaquanda's traumatic childhood formed the foundation for deviant sexuality.

Shaquanda abruptly changes her attitude for Lisa and feigns defeat, "No, don't takes my babies. Ya can come in."

Lisa enters the dingy, rundown apartment, musty air filling her sinuses. The walls -- originally white, but yellowed by age and grease -- need painting. The place appears disorganized with debris strewn about and can use a good cleaning.

"It says here you have one girl and two boys, ages ten, twelve, and 15. Where are they?" Lisa questions looking down at the form on her clipboard, the back of which she spends idle time drawing hearts with her and Doug's name in them.

"They's visiting my sister," Shaquanda answers.

"Does anyone else live here with you besides the children?" Lisa asks.

Reggie happens to be with Shaquanda today. He has an appetite for petite white girls too and a special talent for getting into their panties. A brilliant idea occurs to Shaquanda: introducing Lisa to Reggie and seeing where things might go.

"Jus Reggie sometimes. He's in da bedroom. Ya wants to meet him?"

"I need to interview your children," Lisa coolly replies. "When will they be here?"

"Reggie, ya has a vistor!" Shaquanda yells, ignoring Lisa's question.

Reggie, a 39-year-old drug dealer and Shaquanda's pimp, comes out from her bedroom. He stands 6' 4", 225 pounds of solid muscle. He wears an angry scowl -- a big vein bulging beneath the surface of his forehead -- as if interrupted from something important.

"What you want, Shaquanda?" Reggie asks.

"Dis here young lady with social services be asking about ya," Shaquanda says, giving Reggie a wink and wicked smile.

Reggie takes a second look at the beautiful social worker. He likes young, white pussy and never misses opportunities to nail it, but this girl can be a professional model with her figure and face. She fits his target profile with the clean, virtuous look magazine ads attempt to capture. Lisa triggers an old, familiar itch in Reggie he can't resist scratching.

Reggie's attraction to white girls goes back as far as he can remember. In high school he fell hard for one named Charlene. Charlene convinced Reggie to buy her expensive rings and jewelry with money he made hustling drugs on the street. She latter accused Reggie of raping her. He exhausted all his resources on an unsuccessful defense, and received thirty years in prison until DNA evidence set him free.

A white judge and jury convicted Reggie of a crime he didn't commit -- took three years of his life without compensation, leaving him penniless.

But while incarcerated, Reggie learned how to become a really successful criminal, making friends with members of organized crime who explained the synergistic benefits of combining drugs with human trafficking and prostitution.

Reggie observes Lisa's wedding band and surmises she is a typical uppity white bitch never fucked by a black man.

Lisa feels uneasy as Reggie approaches, undressing her with his dark eyes.

"I just need to ask a couple quick questions and I'll come back another time when the kids are here," Lisa nervously declares.

Reggie stands inches away, almost making physical contact with Lisa and towering over her.

It dawns on Lisa that Reggie and Shaquanda pose serious danger to her. Reggie sees her blue eyes looking at the door to a possible escape.

"Suppose we doesn't feel like answering questions?" Reggie mocks, pulling Lisa's clipboard from her hands, tossing it across the room, and moving between Lisa and the exit she has been eyeing.

"Hey!" Lisa blurts. "I need that." The clipboard contains all of the day's paperwork as well as the note to Doug she has been writing.

"Who da fuck ya think ya is coming in here and asking personal questions like ya is superior to us?"

They have this all wrong. She is there to help them. Lisa backs away from the giant black man.

"Get da door, Shaquanda. I think we needs to teach her a lesson," Reggie barks.

Without fully understanding yet where things are heading, Shaquanda obeys Reggie and races to the door.

Lisa finds herself against the wall. Reggie grabs hold of her arms.

"Get your hands off of me! I'm going to have you arrested for assault," Lisa threatens, unsuccessfully attempting to jerk free of Reggie's grasp.

Threatening to have Reggie arrested is the wrong thing for a white girl to say to him. Reggie lets go and slaps Lisa hard across the face, leaving a red mark on her left cheek and causing her to see stars.

"You threatening me now?" Reggie challenges tearing Lisa's purse from her shoulder and flinging it to Shaquanda.

"Find her cell phone. She ain't calling nobody," Reggie declares.

Lisa rubs her cheek and stares at Reggie in shock. She tastes a trickle of blood. Everything is happening so fast she doesn't know whether to scream or try reasoning with him. Before she can decide, Reggie's meaty hand covers her mouth and Lisa finds herself being dragged toward the room Reggie came from, her shoes furrowing the worn, green carpet, then falling off, on the way.

"Get her clothes off whiles I hold her," Reggie snaps whirling Lisa around like a rag doll and wrestling her into bed. "We is gonna teach her some respect."

Hearing their intentions, Lisa thrashes in Reggie's lap, but he overpowers her and pulls her tightly into his chest, which rises and falls from his deep breaths.

Shaquanda smiles, unveiling a piano key arrangement of white and gold teeth, as she begins unbuttoning Lisa's blouse.

"I bet ya never had a big, black cock before," she taunts, her spider-like fingers crawling down the buttons on Lisa's shirt.

Lisa's blue eyes grow large with fear. She has only been with one man her entire life -- her husband, Doug. This can't be happening. Rape is something that occurs to other unfortunate women, not her. Lisa musters all her strength, summoning every muscle in her body, but can't break free from Reggie's viselike embrace.

"MMMPPPHHH!" Lisa tries to scream.

"Ya a lucky girl. Once Reggie spoils ya with his huge cock, ya ain't never gonna be satisfied with nothing else," Shaquanda teases.

Lisa's blouse hangs open. Her firm breasts fill her pink, silk bra like strong winds against sails on a ship. Lisa flails in Reggie's embrace as Shaquanda's hands reach her pants.

"Ooooh, look what we has here," Shaquanda says pulling Lisa's pants down while Lisa violently kicks, revealing pink, silk bikini briefs matching her racy bra.

Scantily clad in undergarments, Lisa struggles with Reggie in bed, twisting in every way possible to escape his hold. All of Lisa's energy makes no progress, like a tire spinning in mud. Two against one, Shaquanda manages removing Lisa's bra in the commotion, unveiling perky young tits, light pink nipples and quarter sized areolas.

Lisa feels both embarrassed and frightened.

"And now let's see what dis pretty girl has waiting down here for us," Shaquanda says placing her thumbs in the waistband of Lisa's briefs.

Lisa gnashes her teeth, kicks and squirms to prevent Shaquanda from making further progress.

Shaquanda has worked in prostitution long enough to know how pimps get new girls to cooperate. She pinches Lisa's nipples hard with her glossy fingernails professionally manicured in red acrylic polish, and twists.

"Aaaaaaaaaaaaaahhhhhhhh!!!" Lisa's muffled screeches fill the room.

Shaquanda repeats the punishment several more times, causing Lisa's nipples to harden and glow red from pain. Shaquanda's pussy grows wet making this high class girl experience the same humiliating treatment a lowly woman recruited from the streets receives to become a whore.

"If ya thinks dat hurt, I'll rip dem pretty things off if ya fight me again," Shaquanda threatens. She returns to the panties. Lisa's kicks subdue to a wiggle Shaquanda easily works around, gracefully pulling the soft fabric down Lisa's long legs, as if uncovering an artwork.

After removing the last vestige of Lisa's privacy, Shaquanda's hands slide between her closed knees.

"Open up and let us see what ya got," Shaquanda prods.

No way will Lisa allow these animals to molest her. Her legs stay stubbornly closed.

"Oh, she is shy and doesn't want us to see her pretty pussy," Shaquanda remarks.

Reggie realizes things have already gone too far with Lisa, and the longer they spend fighting her, the more likely they are to find trouble. He grows impatient. He has ways to make girls cooperate quicker. "Go's and gets the works for her," Reggie instructs Shaquanda.

Lisa struggles for adequate air through her nostrils, trying to pull Reggie's hand from her mouth with Shaquanda temporarily gone from the room. She feels his other strong hand wandering over her waist, kneading her firm belly while holding her in his lap.

"Ya need to calm down," Reggie soothingly speaks in Lisa's ear. "We won't hurt ya. Just does what we says."

Lisa is terrified; his hand is still rubbing her stomach, descending ever lower. She doesn't understand what Reggie meant by 'the works', but she isn't settling down and allowing them to have their way with her either -- that will never happen! She has to get free.

Shaquanda returns with a rubber tourniquet and syringe containing an exotic date rape mixture: a pharmaceutical grade substance used legitimately for anesthesia with other nasty street drugs including cocaine and heroin.

The meaning of 'the works' now becomes horribly evident to Lisa and she strives harder to get free, her lithe body squirming like a snake in Reggie's embrace while Shaquanda tightens the tourniquet around her arm.

"MMMPPHHH!!" Lisa tries screaming so someone might hear her. Her prior determination to fight turns to the desperation of an ensnared animal. She will do anything to avoid the dreadful injection. She wants Reggie and Shaquanda to know she is sorry for bothering them; that she won't tell anyone what happened if they let her go. But she can't speak with Reggie's hand over her mouth.

"It gonna be okay once ya try dis," Shaquanda promises holding Lisa's struggling arm straight.

Lisa doesn't know what substance the syringe contains, but it can't be good. She never touched drugs her entire life. She witnessed how they destroyed lives these past three months working for Social Services. She doesn't even like taking aspirin. It won't be okay, like Shaquanda claims, if they put that poison into her. But Lisa already expended so much energy jostling Reggie. Her exertions to yank her arm from Shaquanda's grasp get weaker, only serving to distend her veins more and make them easier targets.

"That's it girl, keeps fightin," Shaquanda encourages. She feels Lisa tiring.

Fatigued, Lisa's arm stops moving enough for Shaquanda to quickly stick a vein exclaiming, "Gotcha."

Lisa doesn't know it, but the battle is over. Reggie finally removes his hand from her mouth.

Drawing in a deep breath while in Reggie's arms, Lisa cries, "Oooowwwee, don't put that in me." She watches a pink plume of her blood mix in the syringe, hardly noticing Reggie's fingers sliding to her breast and now gently playing with her nipple.

Shaquanda slowly depresses the plunger. "Don't move, Honey, or the needle might break in you," she warns.

Lisa quietly observes Shaquanda empty the remnants of the syringe into her vein, everything seeming to move in slow motion.

"There we go," Shaquanda's voice echoes in Lisa's ears, breaking an awkward silence. Shaquanda pulls the needle out of Lisa's arm, a drop of blood oozing from the site. Shaquanda wipes it with her thumb and then pops the digit in her mouth.

"Mmmmm, sweet," Shaquanda comments tasting Lisa's blood. "Ya gonna feel so good," she adds, removing the tourniquet and allowing the potent drugs to rush through Lisa's circulatory system. "Ya ever get high before?" Shaquanda asks.

Overcome by the intense rush of her first high, Lisa doesn't answer. The closest she has ever come to using drugs is an occasional glass of wine. The chemicals now in her bloodstream cause her every neuron to spark in euphoria, her mood to elevate a thousand times brighter than listening to her favorite piece of classical music. In a place somewhere between consciousness and sleep, Lisa dreams while still awake.

The affects of the drugs in Lisa become immediately evident. The somnambulant girl's nipples pucker; Reggie feels the one he is gently rolling between his fingers become stiff as a pencil's eraser.

Lisa's apprehensions diminish. It barely registers that she is lying naked in front of two complete strangers -- in a huge black man's lap who she doesn't know.

Reggie lifts Lisa off his lap and gently lays her back in the bed, her head resting on a fluffy pillow. Like a spider, Shaquanda has paralyzed their victim with drugs. Reggie's eyes greedily scan Lisa's nubile body as he rises from the bed.

"Do ya mind if I get her ready for ya?" Shaquanda requests.

Reggie loves girl on girl action as much as fucking them himself, "Sure, go ahead. Knock yourself out and have fun with her."

Reggie watches Shaquanda slither like a lizard into the bed and pry Lisa's legs open.

Lisa doesn't realize what Shaquanda is doing at first.

Besides a narrow, neatly trimmed strip of brown pubic hair above her vagina, the rest of Lisa appears hairless. Shaquanda wonders if she used laser treatments to get so smooth.

"Aren't you a pretty thing," Shaquanda states stretching Lisa's labia apart and revealing her light pink flesh.

Lisa murmurs, "No," becoming aware of Shaquanda touching her private place. She tries closing her legs, but with Shaquanda already planted securely between them the effort proves unsuccessful.

Shaquanda holds Lisa open, licks her finger, and softly strokes Lisa's sensitive hood while dipping her tongue in her pink slit.

"Noh, stop," Lisa cries, pushing Shaquanda's head, her braids like small ropes through Lisa's fingers. "I'm married... not that way... Doug," Lisa babbles in delirium. Lisa can't understand how one woman does this to another. It's revolting.

"Oh, I gonna make ya become dis way, Baby. Ya gonna love having yur pussy eaten by a woman when I gets through with ya," Shaquanda quickly responds. "Who's Doug?" Shaquanda further queries.

"Husband," Lisa mumbles.

Slowly caressing Lisa's clit, Shaquanda looks at Reggie, smiles, and replies, "Ya pussy belongs to me and Reggie now, not Doug," before returning to serious business on Lisa.

Shaquanda sexually assaults Lisa for her own good reasons. By the time Shaquanda turned 18 years old, she worked as a prostitute and never finished school. She didn't get the nice upbringing and stable childhood this bitch enjoyed -- to attend college, afford a new car, marry a man and start a family.

Lisa got all the breaks in life, and then acted all superior with her cute, white ass. Shaquanda finds Lisa gorgeous but loathes what Lisa represents.

"Oh, oh, no, stop it," Lisa whines.

Shaquanda's experience as a prostitute makes her expert at pleasuring men and women. But she has long fantasized about introducing Sapphic pleasures to a privileged, inexperienced white girl.

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bythecryptkeeper© 17 comments/ 193760 views/ 198 favorites

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