Black and Blue Ch. 03

His hands moved - one arm crossing her waist while the other moved up to the base of her throat. His fingers lay on her neck but exerted no pressure. They did not need to. She understood the message. She was going nowhere - she belonged to him.

"Yes," her voice cracked, "Don't stop, don't stop."

His voice was deep, staccato in her ear as he kept fucking her hard. "Not gonna stop till I've bred you good, not gonna stop till I've made that flat white belly all full and round with my little nigga. Not gonna stop till the world knows you a Black man's woman."

She heard his words even as her world crashed into climax, left her legs tottering and unable to take her weight. His strong arm held her up without any apparent effort, certainly with no qualification of his powerful breeding strokes into her. He moved forward, taking her weight, guided her to the bed and pushed her down onto it.

Her arms couldn't hold her and she found her face against the sheets. His arm held her just long enough for her legs to get beneath her and hold her body there for him. He grasped her hips and fucked her hard. Her fingers tightened on the sheet and she moaned as he took her. She understood how it was. He was fucking her for real now, fucking her to make her his. She knew what that meant. Each thrust taking her closer to that next potent load of African seed. She knew it would come, anticipated feeling that extra deep stroke as he came inside her, as he made sure his seed was good and deep, ready to find her egg and make her pregnant. To make her Black bred.

"Oh God," she wailed into the bed-sheet, "OOOHHHH GGOOOOOODDDDD...."

Julius felt her body quiver, felt her come. He always felt good when that happened - no matter how many times it had happened, no matter how many cracka boy's wives he'd had up in this apartment. Keep the bitches cumming and they'd always keep coming back. Coming back and riding his dick, taking his seed and raising his babies. Like it was supposed to be. Julius knew he had timed this right. Claire was still coming as he shot a second strong load of cum into her hungry pussy.

She thought he would keep her on the bed again but he pulled her up and over to the mirror. She saw herself in the glass. Her hair was all over the place, her mascara had run, her cheeks were pink and flushed, her lipstick had smeared.

She couldn't help but laugh "I look such a mess."

"You look beautiful, beautiful and fulfilled. You look like a woman who is finally doing what she was created to do. Who can finally be what she was always meant to be. Now you're looking like a woman fine enough to be my bitch. You ready to be my bitch?"

"You know it," she simply replied and then asked him what was foremost in her mind. "Will you fuck me again?"

"Oh yes," his voice was deep and its sincerity undeniable. "We gonna fuck a lot. But just now we ain't fucking for fun, we're fucking to breed. So its best you come back tomorrow when I'll have more of what you know you're needing."

Did he mean his fucking or his cock or his seed? Did it matter? She wanted it all. She had never felt like she did now, never known such exhilaration. She wanted and needed more.

He sat back on the bed and watched as she went into the bathroom. As she washed up and then made herself presentable she heard the click and fizz of a lighter. Soon after she smelled a familiar smell. It was not tobacco.

She emerged from the bathroom and reached for her skirt only to realise, with some shock, that Julius was not alone in the room.

"Good to see you again Officer," said the man and laughter-lines showed next to his eyes. "Real good to see you."

She had recognised him immediately. He was Floyd Abernethy, the man whose arrest had ultimately led to her being here.

"Me and my man Floyd here got some arrangements to make. I'm guessing since you driving you won't indulge." Julius flicked his hand and the joint he held in it. "Shame - this is the real thing. None of that chemical shit."

He hadn't said 'get gone' but the message was clear enough. Rule One said that when Julius said 'get gone' his bitches got gone. Claire got her clothes together and dressed herself. She was very aware that each man's eyes were on her. They traded pleasantries but it was clear that their real business would wait until she was gone. In the meantime they were both enjoying the view. She conquered her instinct to hurry. If Julius objected to Floyd being here then he would have kept Floyd outside until she was ready. So Julius wanted to show off his new bitch to his friend. So it was her job to represent him, not to hurry or to be embarrassed. She did so to the best of her abilities and to judge by Floyd's obvious pleasure she was successful.

"See you tomorrow at about six - you can get off work early." As usual Julius was making a statement rather than asking her a question.

"Of course," she replied and stopped only to share a long deep kiss with her man. "I'll maybe see you again Floyd," she said as she headed for the door.

"No maybes involved if I'm deciding that," responded Floyd, "but maybe you'll have a kiss like that for me next time."

Julius was still smiling, still relaxed.

"Maybe," was the last thing she said as she moved through the door and out into he building corridor that led to the stairwell. She could still feel the blood pumping through her body, the exquisite excitement of those moments, all the way down the stairs and out into the cool air.

Her mind was full of the events of the afternoon. She kept remembering and enjoying moments as she drove. Perhaps that was why her usual sharp instincts were somewhat dulled. It was only as she neared the city limits that she looked a little more carefully into her rear-view mirror. There was a silver Camry back there - not right behind her but that wasn't what interested her. She felt sure there had been one behind her on the way in too, at least part of the way. Not that there weren't a whole host of Camrys on the road of course.

She looked more carefully but the vehicle was too far way and its windows were clearly tinted. Even as she watched the vehicle signalled a right turn and then was gone. Claire watched it go with some relief and moments later she was driving out into the suburbs proper. She didn't want to find herself going paranoid or something. Not just when things were starting to go so well.

***

"I decided when you first came through my door that when the time came I was going to savour it. To enjoy every part and every aspect of you. I ain't minded to rush and this ain't getting done in just a few hours. Tomorrow you gonna call into that Department of yours and tell them you off for the foreseeable. You understand. Been talking to my man Floyd about finding a crib for you over here. I got business tomorrow night so you can go off and fetch your kit then. Floyd says he got a couple of guys to help you - ones that won't stand out over there in Milvern County.

She knew what that meant. White guys. Floyd hadn't struck her as a man with a lot of white friends but she was learning not to be surprised by anything these men did.

She luxuriated in the strength of his arms as he held her, contrasted it with the gentle inter-play of their tongues as they kissed. She knew Julius Moore well enough to know that he was not a sentimentalist. Julius was 'the Closer', a man on a very real mission. He was giving her what she wanted and needed to make sure that she kept coming back. That way he would get what he wanted. They were lovers but not in the 'happy ever after' sense. They were lovers because it suited them both at this moment. There was no BS about it - Julius didn't promise and fail to deliver, Julius didn't hide what he wanted. So different from her previous lovers, her white lovers. That was why she kept coming back - that was why she'd keep coming back until...

He had pushed open her shirt and his big dark hands were brushing across the pale skin of her belly with amazing gentleness.

She looked back up and her eyes found his. He most certainly was no sentimentalist. His eyes were hard, firm and demanding. His white bitches were there to do what he wanted and give him what he wanted. There were no ruses or tricks involved. As a woman you knew that. As a woman she knew that.

"Might be happening already." His voice was meditative and full of satisfaction.

"Probably not," she admitted. The timing hadn't quite been right but this week it would be.

"Probably not," he echoed her, "but still maybe. That 'maybe' is the finest word in the whole fucking dictionary. You too fine to let this wait. You need these white titties full of milk and this fine white belly full of my son."

"You can guarantee a son," she teased him.

"Not first time," he conceded, "but we just keep going till we get there. No problem if I'm giving you a house-full of daughters first. They be beautiful. Maybe not like their Momma but just as beautiful all the same."

She knew what he meant. Her children were not going to look like her - they would not share her fair hair, her pale skin. They would be beautiful but in their own way.

His big fingers had nimbly undone her shirt buttons and pushed the material away to expose her breasts. His hands fondled her, his thumbs working her hard nipples.

"Yeah," he almost spoke to himself, "that's what these were made for. Feeding the Black man's babies and helping them grow big and strong if they a son, strong and beautiful if they a girl. Need these good and full and ready. So you can be what you was born to be."

"Like Jean," she said.

"Like Jean," he repeated her words, "like all you fly white bitches was born to be. Making your men proud, letting your bellies show the world who the real men are. Nothing sez that like a little nigga suckling on a fine white titty. In time you gonna be just as good a white bitch as Jean is."

She felt a little prickle of annoyance at that, a sparking of her competitive spirit. "What do you mean? Because I'll be pregnant?"

"Oh you gonna be knocked up for sure. We both knowing that. But you gonna be as good as her on Rule Eight."

"Rule Eight?"

"Rule Eight says a white bitch's mission is to represent and to recruit - friends, work mates, relations - any white woman worthy of being with the Black man. Just like Jean did."

She remembered her conversations with Jean and understood. That had been how it was going to be all along. Julius had known it since he had first seen her and Jean had known it too. From the moment she and Joe had walked through the door. Julius and Jean had both identified her potential and begun working on her. They had seduced her. It seemed crazy to use the word in this context but that was how it had been. Julius had always been there - showing her another possibility, a different future. However, it was Jean that had done the real work. Jean that had encouraged her and had gently laid the trail of bread-crumbs that led to the exquisite, delicious, trap.

Was it still a trap when you went into it with your eyes wide open? When you wanted to be 'captured' with all of your heart and soul? Didn't that trap become an opportunity?

"Just remember," said Julius, "when the time comes. This ain't just about taking the white boys' women. They so weak and limp that ain't no problem. This is about raising the next generation. Their finest bitches and their best potential baby-mommas need to be with the best men. And the best men is all..."

"Black." She finished his statement as she knew he wanted her to. "The best men are all Black."

"Fuckin' A. The best soldiers, the best athletes, the best gangstas, the best fighters, the best sportsmen, the best playas, the best fuckers. From all I seen the best fuckin' five-oh and lawyers too. The best at everything that counts. You put the best men with the best women, that's Black women and the cream of the rest, well it stands to reason. Gonna get the best new generation. Strong and proud and ready to move forward. Knock them limp-dicked cracka boys off that perch they been sitting and preening themselves on for so long. Lording it over their betters - lording it over us but also over you. Over white women just as much as over us folk."

That was some racist shit! Kinda eugenics shit too!

Julius gave a little laugh. "Yeah, I know. You ain't feeling that part of it. Not yet. Maybe you never will. Maybe I'm all full of shit. It don't much matter. Reality don't need us to believe it. If I'm right then I'm right, if I'm wrong well I'll be long gone before I know it. Meantime, by experience you know one thing I'm saying is true."

"What's that?"

"Answer it yourself. Who fucks best?"

"You do."

"Yeah and in time you'll come to know that I might be the best but there's plenty of other brothas not far behind. Damn sight ahead of any cracka boy anyway. You know that don't you?"

"Yeah," she said quietly, "I know it."

"Well then, " his exploring fingers found her pussy, "that's all that matters right now. This white pussy hungry?"

She felt the desire surge through her, the excitement she had come to expect when she knew he was going to fuck her. Just like one of Pavlov's dogs. She couldn't get enough of him - she desperately wanted more. "She's hungry."

"She wet and hungry, all primed and ready?"

"Primed and ready," she echoed. The word 'primed' carried a certain connotation around these parts. It didn't just mean you were ready to fuck.

Julius pushed down his sweat pants and his shorts. Then he stepped out of them and took a seat in his big armchair. Their talk had clearly aroused him, his cock was hard and standing magnificently against his muscled stomach.

She looked at him. How big was he? Bigger than her ex-husband or her former boyfriends for sure. Big enough to fit her perfectly, to make sex better than anything she had imagined, let alone experienced, before. But was he so much bigger? His dark skin just seemed to make him so much more impressive, so much more potent and powerful. No white boy was ever going to compete with her man and she needed him to prove it again for her.

No more words. She knew what she needed to do. She completed undressing while he watched her, his eyes full of lust for her. For her or for her fertility? Did it matter? He was going to fuck her with that Big Black Cock of his and that was all that mattered to her. What would come of it would come of it. When a man fucked his woman it was what was supposed to happen. You didn't give yourself to a man like Julius unless you gave yourself totally, no hesitations and no restrictions.

She straddled him, lined his cock up and then carefully eased herself down onto his hard cock. She went carefully at first but that just allowed her to savour the sensations coming from her pussy. Like the first time - when that big cock of his had claimed her and left her no way back. Filling her, fulfilling her - sending the waves of desire and pleasure coursing through her body. She closed her eyes and opened her mouth to gasp as she rode him, as she took him all of the way. It was exquisite, perfection. Her mind and body explored every sensation and demanded more.

She rode him, harder and harder. Moving her body up and down on that cock. Using him to build that wave of sensation, to surf its crest and anticipate the crashing climax of her arousal. She gasped again and kept herself moving. Onward, faster, claiming what was hers by right. His seed and her new life.

She felt her body and soul quiver, felt her reaction to the thought as much as to the Big Black Cock pushing in and out of her pussy. At that moment for the first time she felt Julius pushing his hips up to take over the rhythmn. Leaving her no respite, no breathing space from the arousal. He wanted to keep her body there, close to climax and when he was ready he would feed her pussy. Fill her with his potent Black seed, send his African essence rushing to mate and join with her. It really could happen tonight. For the first time she knew that she was here at her most fertile time. A primed egg was right where it should be. Ready to take his seed and make his baby. She was here and ready to be Black Bred.

"Yes," she said through gritted teeth, "breed me."

"You worth it then you better work for it."

The movement of his hips stopped and she understood. She understood and she rushed to resume her own rhythmn. The Closer knew his business. He knew that she was primed and he wanted her working hard for that seed. That way there could never be any misunderstanding of what was happening here. She was being Black Bred and she was the one doing it. Not that he cared what the world thought. She knew him well enough to know that. This was all about her and her mind. After this there couldn't be any denial or hesitation. After this she would know what had to be, what she herself needed.

Post-climax her muscles signalled their fatigue. Part of her wanted him to take over, to fuck her hard. However, more of her wanted to prove herself. To claim his seed as tribute to his desire for her. A tribute that would grow and blossom in her belly. Her mind took her and her body reacted. She no longer felt the fatigue and she kept riding him, putting her head back and opening her mouth to draw in great lungfuls of oxygen.

As she did so she remembered when she and Joe Sansom had first opened that broken door and found the Closer fucking his white bitch, fucking Jean Butler. Jean had been riding him just like this, her head thrown back to gasp for air, her pale skin flushed with excitement and desire. Claire knew that now she had to look like that, just like that. She was the Closer's fresh white bitch and she revelled in the fact. Now Jean had the Closer's Black baby growing in her. That was just how it was and that was just how it was going to be.

She opened her eyes and stared wildly into his face. She picked up her pace and rode him harder. His face looked serene but she could tell. That slight tightening of his mouth and most of all those piercing penetrating dark eyes.

"Gonna take it," he snarled.

"Give me it, " she said quietly, "knock me up." Somehow it meant more than yelling it. There was a performative side to that. This was just between them - between a Black man and his white bitch. Between a Black man and his next white baby-momma.

His hands held her tight and she knew he was shooting his seed up deep inside her. Starting all that potent Black seed in a mad rush to find her egg. She hoped they would succeed but in the long run it didn't matter. There would be lots more opportunities and she would not stop until she had succeeded. Until she was growing his beautiful baby within her, until her breasts were filling with milk to feed his children.

She gasped, the breath coming out of her in shuddering waves. It was intense, dominating her body. Making her pussy claim every bit of his cum from his Big Black Cock. That was pure instinct. It knew what she needed just as much as she did, just as much as the Closer had known since he had first seen her. She needed to be bred.

Finally she was able to stop, breathing heavily. She sank down onto him and felt his body against her, his warmth and his strength. It felt perfect, amazing, so very good.

"You enjoy that?" Julius Moore gave a low rumble of a laugh that he felt all through her body.

"It was the best," she said. Why lie or dissimulate? It had been. That was just a fact.

"Now you know the difference between just Black fucking and real Black breeding. You want more?"

"Yes," she didn't need to think about her answer, "I want a lot more."

She felt his laughter again, his joy at having claimed her. It didn't surprise her that she felt absolutely no regrets. Soon he would be hard again and then he would fuck her again, he would breed her again. It was all that she wanted and he would not deny her.