Alex - 10 Days of Torment Ch. 22

Jasmine took a different path and ended up somewhere in the northeast. Brandi didn't know for sure. To be honest, she didn't care. In some ways she resented her younger sister because she hadn't had to endure what she had. Often she woke up in the middle of the night only to realize the nightmare she'd had wasn't real. In it, she'd been in the next room, listening to Jasmine being sexually assaulted through the thin walls.

That was the thing that stuck with her the most. It actually ate at her. Jasmine knew full well what was happening to her older sibling. They talked about it, Brandi telling her what to do and how to act on the off chance that their father set his sights on her. She heard everything that happened to Brandi at night when they were in their own neighboring bedrooms. Yet not once did she ever thank her sister for that protection. Or even bother to ask if she were okay when she saw the welts on her ass from a belt or switch, or the bruises on her face from being slapped.

Bitter about Jasmine's callousness, and suicidal over her father's very nature and her mother's neglect, Brandi tore out of town like a tornado. She never considered telling anyone where she was going because she didn't want to be found. To that point, she cut off all communication with her family. She destroyed her cell phone with all the contacts in it. She hadn't seen nor talked to any of them since she'd left Georgia.

Her inauspicious start notwithstanding, she attempted to settle down at college. It worked in the beginning. She'd met Scott, and she took things slow with him. Very slow. She didn't want to give him the impression that she was a slut, trying hard to keep the demons that tormented her in her dreams at bay.

Unfortunately, things changed the night she finally decided to cave to her carnal needs and have sex with Scott. She knew she'd failed at hiding the initial shock on her face when he undressed.

Brandi tried. She really did. After all, she'd fallen madly in love with the man. But she couldn't escape the nightmare that kept playing on her psyche. She actually began to resent her lot in life, lamenting many times how things were unfair, because her gorgeous hunk of a boyfriend... a man she'd invested her entire freshman year with, had been cursed with a little boys cock.

She knew she wouldn't leave him, not wanting to appear as shallow as she truly was. Yet his four-inch penis haunted her, not unlike the central character in a macabre Edgar Allen Poe poem. The Telltale Penis, as it were.

She'd literally woken up countless times in the middle of the night, thinking it was a different bad dream. She'd reach over, fondling his crotch, only to realize the nightmare was all too real. And in doing so, she'd awaken him, leaving her no recourse but to pretend she couldn't get enough of him. They'd make love, Scott always giving her a wonderful orgasm with his mouth, only to disappoint when he'd slide his small prick inside her dripping pussy.

She'd end up having to take charge, rolling him onto his back so she could ride him. She preferred reverse cowgirl for two reasons; one was that the angle of his rock hard shaft would at least drag across her swollen clit. With her already having cum several times on his talented tongue, she would be ripe and ready to explode if she could create the right friction. The other reason was so he couldn't see the anger in her eyes having to settle on not being totally satisfied because of his lack of endowment.

She swore to herself that she could make it work. That she could be a good girlfriend and accept his one flaw. To the point that she accepted his proposal for marriage. And in doing so; in making that rash decision because of the size of the ring, she knew she would forever have to pretend that her carnal needs were being satiated by their sex life.

She was actually successful at it for years, but it was done with incredible guilt, on both parties. Scott knew she wasn't totally happy, but didn't know why. He asked to marry him keep her from leaving. She said yes, knowing her heart belonged to him. Her pussy, however, had always had a mind of it's own. She was kidding herself all along thinking she could really control it.

She couldn't help herself. As much as she tried, her clit would start to throb uncontrollably when she neared her ovulation cycle. It actually pounded with her increased heartbeat, the pheromones she released so strong she could feel the eyes of men shooting in her direction wherever she went. Of course, by that time she was going to places she shouldn't; ones frequented by black men. She called it 'Jungle Fever', and she became in her mind the slutty blonde subplot in a blaxploitation porn movie. Her role in that make believe movie in her head was to be used by some thuggish black stud with a huge cock. Occasionally there would be two to play with, depending on the initial interaction.

The first time she strayed on Scott, post graduation and starting their life together after moving to northern California, she found herself walking into a bar in a particularly dangerous part of San Francisco. Within ten minutes she was pressed up against the stall wall of a filthy men's room, her clean white miniskirt on the floor next to the disgusting toilet, as her pussy was ravaged by a thick ten-inch black prick. Her breasts were exposed, the tank top she'd worn was pushed up over them. Her nipples became raw from the way they scraped against the graffiti covered cinderblock.

As soon as that nameless cock came in her pussy, a second one rammed into her. Only that one was shoved into her ass. She smirked, remembering how black guys loved ass. Especially tight, white ass attached to killer legs, belonging to a blue-eyed blonde.

She felt guilty as she drove home that night, two loads of cum oozing out of her. She came damn near confessing her transgressions the next morning over breakfast, but Scott seemed clueless to the smell of sex on her, and never questioned why she'd gotten home so late. It took her a week to let her shame go, telling herself over and over it was a mistake, and a one time thing. Two weeks later she actually believed that.

When she neared her ovulation cycle again, she was back in the city, in a different dive, trolling for big black cock. It was all too easy that second time, finding a willing one. Her problem was finding a man thuggish enough for her particular taste. She found Ace on the corner just down from the bar dealing drugs. He thought that's what she wanted when she approached him; suprising him when she pulled him down an alley to suck his cock. She ended up in his roach infested apartment, getting railed for three hours while high on cocaine. It was another vice she'd given up since high school, but that feeling came rushing back to her. She even scored some to take home with her, Ace saying her prime pussy was payment enough for the blow.

She only felt elation as she drove home, and she was almost smug in her interactions with Scott the next few days. At the end of the week, she looked at herself in the mirror, making a much different confession. She was never going to be faithful, and she couldn't wait to be debased like that again. That behavior went on for a good eighteen months, until one night she woke up from one of those nightmares and realized before she checked Scott that it was real, and she knew what she would find.

She let out a long, exasperated whine, and he rolled over.

"Not up for it tonight?"

"Up for what?" she replied disgustedly.

"Sex."

"Yeah, like you could fuck me like I need with that little dick. Not if I'm sober, anyway."

"What?" he asked, sitting up in bed.

She got out of bed and went to her closet, coming out in an outfit that could only be described as ultra-slutty. It was also barely there. Grabbing her purse, she stopped at looked at him.

"You're not going to ask where I'm going?"

"I heard what you said. I assume you're going out to fuck one of your... boyfriends. I'm just surprised it's tonight and not next week."

She smirked. Scott was a smart man. It shouldn't have surprised her that he'd figured out her secret. Then again, she hadn't tried to be that deceitful. She knew there were at least two times that he'd gone down on her after she'd been fucked. He had to have tasted the difference. In many ways she was glad she got found out. It meant she didn't have to hide it anymore, especially with the way he'd admitted he knew where she was going and wasn't about to try and stop her.

"I'm sorry if I just hurt your feelings. I shouldn't have said it that way."

"I know I'm not well-endowed, Brandi. I can't help it."

"I know. But I'm not going to pretend it's enough anymore. I'm not leaving you, Scott. But I am going to leave," she said as she pulled out a vial of already cut coke from her purse, making a line on the back of her hand. Snorting some up each nostril, she said, "I'll be back when I've been fucked properly."

"You're doing drugs now?"

"Coke numbs me. I've obviously not been hiding what I'm doing. You figured it out. But that didn't mean it was easy for me. I do love you... except your penis. I'm sorry, but I hate it."

He tried to ignore her snipe at his manhood, but it stung. Still, he wasn't going to interfere with what she was about to do, simply asking, "How long will you be gone?"

"Well, now that I know you know I've been fucking around on you, I don't have to rush anymore. I'll be back tomorrow morning sometime."

"Tomorrow... morning."

"I'll be home when I'm home. I'm going to find a way to score me some herion."

"Wait... what!? Herion!?"

"I just got done telling you cocaine numbs me. Heroin is like lighting. I haven't fucked on it since high school, but I'm done pretending about that too. Don't worry. I've never been an addict before. I won't become one now. I haven't touched it since before I met you, and I quit without help. Think of it as my cocktail when I get good cock, and leave it at that."

"I'm still going to worry."

"I'm not going to care, so save it. When I come home, we're going to have to sit down and have a talk."

"How long?"

"I just told you. Tomorrow morning sometime"

"No. I just want to know how long you've been fucking your boyfriend."

"I don't have a boyfriend. I fuck other men. Plural."

"Are any of them... serious?"

"I'll answer those questions. Any more will have to wait until tomorrow. First, I've been doing this once a month for a year and a half or so. I never cheated on you in college. Or at first when we moved here. But, I'll admit... they have all happened since you asked me to marry you."

"Understood."

"You do?"

"I think so. I don't satisfy you that way, and the thought of marrying me... I get it."

She let that drop, not wanting to admit that he was not only right, she really had no intention of going through with a wedding. She liked the idea of being engaged and having a ring on her finger. Most men she hooked up with assumed it meant she was already married, which made it a lot easier for her to get what she wanted, which was anonymous cock.

"As for the other question, I've never fucked the same guy twice. In fact, I couldn't tell you any of their names. I don't want to date them. I don't even want to know them. I just need a big black cock to fuck me right."

"Black? Why black?"

"That's another question, Scott. I'm not going to answer it. And since you asked after I told you I wasn't going to answer any more, I'm not going to answer it. Ever. I do have a question for you though."

"Ever?" he wondered, not able to shake the idea of what she'd just said.

"Ever. You just lost that privilege by not listening to me. Now, how and when did you find out I've been cheating?"

"Uh... it was seven... no, it was eight months ago. You were worked up when you came home, and I decided to help calm you down. So I ate you out, because I know you like it when I do that."

"I do. You're very good at it. In fact, that's what I love about you most in the bedroom; your talented tongue. You must've noticed a difference."

"Yes."

"And what do you think that was?"

"I... I'd rather not think about it."

"I need you to say it sweetie. I need to know we're on the same page."

He was embarrassed to answer, but he did anyway. "Your boyfriend's... well, whatever guy you fucked. I'm pretty sure it was his... cum."

"Mmm... yes. It was. And you've done that several times, haven't you."

"Yes," he painfully admitted.

"Well, now that we both know you've done it many times already, and you haven't protested up to now, I expect you to keep doing that for me going forward."

"Wait. What are you saying?"

"I'm saying I'm leaving. And when I come back tomorrow morning, I'm going to have a very messy pussy for you to clean up. I expect you to do that for me first thing when I get home. Then were going to discuss how our relationship is going to work going forward. I don't want you to worry. Like I said, I promise I'm not leaving you. But I also promise that things are going to be different because of you lacking a proper penis."

That was the first official step in their Femdom relationship. She'd been leading him that way ever since, taking him deeper and deeper into the world of an obedient cuckold. In truth, finding new ways to emasculate Scott was too thrilling to give up. And she eventually discovered she didn't have to live with him in order to fulfill her other darker needs.

What was driving her most recently was the newly dyed blonde that she was 'mentoring', which in her warped mind meant controlling. To set the stage for what she wanted to do next, she pushed Gerard's buttons, making him more and more angry as they fucked. It was part of her talent for manipulating people, and her desire to be used roughly. Drawing upon her father's bigotry, she first called him a few names that never should have left her lips. He ignored them, knowing what she was up to. It wasn't until she spit in his face that she got what she wanted; a couple of slaps to her pretty cheek and a dozen hard swats with his wide leather belt after he dumped his cum inside her.

Even as she cried, Brandi felt like she'd won, for it was those stripes on her ass that she'd use to set the hook with Christina to get her to accept what was being done to her. She'd already baited it, claiming that she'd been beaten as a result of being a poor mentor when Christina refused to tongue a delivery man's ass. Christina didn't know that was a lie, because her head was covered with a bag. That was why it was important to get Gerard to lash out. Just asking him to do it wasn't enough. He needed to be provoked. But she needed to be marked in order to sell the narrative she was weaving.

Gerard stayed behind, wanting nothing to do with whatever Brandi had in store for her. If he went with them, he'd feel even more guilty for letting it happen, and he knew he wasn't going to be able stop her. If he tried, she'd only come up with something worse to do with her. He'd seen it before.

She drove Christina to Venice, parking in an alley behind the tattoo parlor that Spike owed. He was the one that pierced Christina's nipples at 'Gerard's' insistence; another bit player in the world Brandi and Gerard had created. Spike had a role, and he was good at it. Not only was he an extremely talented tattoo artist, he was loyal and he didn't ask questions he didn't want to know the answers to. Questions like, 'Does Christina know I'm doing this to her?' He knew the answer when Brandi called him to tell him to come outside and help carry her into the back of his shop.

He'd been commissioned by Brandi to create and ink her with two different tattoos. Both of them had surprise elements to them that he actually found exciting. The first one, placed above her pussy on her pubic mound, in the space in the blonde 'V' Sasha had designed, he could have done in his sleep. He had, in his conservative estimation, inked nearly fifty similar ones. Each was unique... he made sure of it, hating the idea of doing 'cookie cutter work' as he called it. The only time he did identical tats was for couples, siblings, or family members of some type. That or some kind of organizational tattoo. He tired of doing Laker, Dodger and Harley-Davidson logos, but at least he understood them.

The biggest difference in the version he designed for Christina from all of the others he'd ever done of that particular type was the actual ink he'd used. He was still getting used to the properties and the settings required to use it for the best results. Yet when he was finished, he was thrilled with how it actually turned out. So was Brandi.

"Fuck, Spike... you can't even see it. I mean, other than the redness."

"Obviously that'll go away in a while. But not seeing it is kinda the point, isn't it? I'm pretty stoked, to be honest. Once her skin heals in a day or two, you won't be able to tell I did anything at all."

"Turn the lights off... I want to see what it looks like in the dark."

Spike turned off the studio lights in his private room, and then he turned on the blacklight he had hanging over the special chair Christina was positioned in.

"Holy fuck! That's hot!" she hissed excitedly.

"Yeah, well. Hotwife. Hot piece of ass. It all ties together."

Spike had created a special Queen of Spades tattoo, the kind that symbolized that she was a hotwife that loved to fuck black cock. While it wasn't an exclusive requirement, both Christina and Alex had been drawn to the videos of married women fucking huge black men with huge cocks to match. Not only was the design itself unique with the way he'd integrated the letter 'Q' inside the spade symbol from a deck of cards, instead of the normal black and sometimes red inks he used on almost every other woman he'd branded as a black cock slut, he used an ultraviolet reactive ink that would be invisible unless it was exposed to a blacklight. Once the irritation caused by the inking process went away, the tattoo itself would be imperceptible to the naked eye.

"What are you doing?" Brandi asked him as he dropped his gym shorts, stepping out of them while he stroked his hard shaft.

Running the head through Christina's labia, he started to press forward. "I'm getting my payment. Unless you're paying for her again," he winked.

It was part of the agreement between Brandi and Spike. She always made it sound to him that it was something Gerard was insisting on to keep from having to worry about literally paying him for the services he was going to provide. But it was really another example of Brandi taking charge for her own personal kinks. Spike didn't mind. In fact, dealing with whomever she brought in was the repeat customer relationship he looked forward to the most, for obvious reasons. The idea of getting blowjobs or getting to fuck hot married women as a means of payment for his services wasn't something he'd ever considered when he opened up his own shop.

Brandi smirked at his question. "No... I paid for her boob rings. I'm just saying, don't you want to wait until she's awake?"

"Naw. I'm worked up now, and I have another one to do. Last thing I need is to try and ink her with the shakes because I'm fucking horny. Besides... that was the easiest tat I've done in ages. That ink is really hard to work with... helluva lot easier to do it when they aren't moving around."

He plowed into Christina and began fucking her wildly. Lifting her dead legs by sliding his arms under her knees, he gripped her thighs and used them for leverage so he could fuck her harder. Brandi smiled and she watched him savagely fuck her, the slapping of his body against Christina's echoing off the walls of the smallish room.