Black and Blue Ch. 04

Claire Doyle tried to hold on tight, tried to ride the surging waves of passion that were flowing through her body. Her hands gripped the shoulders of her man, felt the taut muscles, the power stored up in that strong frame. In her mind's eye she saw the contrast between her pale fingers and his dark blue-black skin. She opened her mouth and expelled a shuddering gasp. It released the pressure but only momentarily. Her man had her just where he wanted her and just where she needed to be. His big hard cock was taking her, claiming her and preparing to close the deal on her.

That was what her man did. That was why they called Julius Moore 'the Closer'. All the photographs in the small back room of the apartment were trophies of his successes over the years. Women who had dipped their toes into being blacked but could still withdraw, still escape back to the safe tedium of their old whitebread lives. The Closer knew the cure for such doubts and hesitations. Every one of the women in those back room photographs had been here or somewhere very like here. Every one had been with Julius Moore just as she was now. His powerful thrusting Black cock ready to transform them, to let them be who they needed to be.

Claire summoned all her resources and gasped into his ear.

"Cum in me, give me my baby."

She knew her words had come out in an almost incomprehensible babble but it seemed that Julius had understood. He held her tight and his thrusts achieved a new intensity, a demanding power that could only end one way. She yearned to feel it, the consummation of all that had happened since she had first set foot into this apartment. The moment when he planted his potent African cum deep inside her. When his seed would start to seek out that egg of hers. They were here today because it was the best possible time. They'd been here yesterday too and would be here tomorrow as well - just in case. They would be lucky or they would be here again next month and the one after that if necessary. 'When' had replaced 'if' a long time ago.

'If' had no place in this part of the Closer's world.

Julius gave a half-grunt half-snarl and then came hard into her pussy. She held him there and tried to milk out all that precious seed. He gave slow deep thrusts in response. This bitch was getting it all. It'd be down to Mother Nature whether she caught. She was a beautiful fair-skinned red-headed five-oh bitch and the purest pleasure to breed. He knew he should want her coming back for a year or two but that just wasn't the way he rolled. There were a lot of beautiful white women out there and it was his mission to take as many of them Black for good as he could. There wasn't nothing held a woman to her new life like a belly full of his baby. This fine-assed bitch wouldn't be wasted on no white boy.

He felt her arms wrapped round him, keeping him there until she was sure that she had all he could give her. He smiled. Nothing said he'd done his job right more. He moved so that his eyes could meet hers. She had beautiful eyes and he let his lock on a moment before he brought his mouth to hers. Their kiss was passionate, tongues meeting with the intimacy of lovers. Julius Moore had enjoyed a lot of fine-assed white bitches and this one was up with the best of them. It was time.

"Preach for me baby."

Claire had got her breath back now. She no longer had to concentrate to remember what he was asking for. It just came naturally.

"Rule One - when you say gone we bitches get gone. Rule Two - Only we bitches are allowed here. Rule Three - No panties. Rule Four - We represent our man at all times, looking and acting accordingly. Rule Five - Your bitches are your property, we belong to you and anyone else you want us to. Rule Six - We are Black only and Black always. Rule Seven - We fuck bare and no birth control allowed. Rule Eight - Our job is to represent right and to recruit any white girl worthy to be a Black man's bitch."

Julius nodded. He always liked his bitches to put their own little spin on the wording. It wasn't about learning rules by heart it was about accepting and understanding their meaning and their importance. That way he knew his bitches would be keeping to them. Not just the words but the spirit and the essence.

"Only two rules left to learn." His voice was smooth. He didn't need to coax or persuade, let alone to threaten. This one was already bought in to the max. "You want to hear them?" It wasn't a real question. He hardly needed her nod of assent.

"Rule Ten is that the deal is closed when carried to term. Maintaining these rules is my bitches' ultimate responsibility, above the law, above your old family, above anything and everything."

She had one query. "Carried to term?"

"You know what that means."

Of course she did. What else had they been doing in this room over the last few months? What else did all of those photos in the back room symbolise. The young white women and their babies, each and every one clearly fathered by a Black man. Each and every one the children and baby-mommas of Julius Moore. The last photo was of Jean Butler holding up her positive pregnancy test.

Then there was the space below her own handwritten name. The space that should carry her own photograph. The space that WOULD carry it. She had felt confirmation of that fact in her own reaction to the tests. She could remember that first one - done here in front of Julius. The whole process of carrying out the test. Then the wait and the fear, the realisation of how it could change everything for her. How nothing would be the same again. The confusion and the almost terror of waiting for those lines to appear. The realisation that only the control line had appeared and the resulting, shocking, feeling of disappointment.

Her second test had been her own responsibility and she had genuinely been convinced that it would come out positive. She had gone through the process and then waited with confidence for the confirmation that she was pregnant. None of the fear or hesitation of the previous time. This was how it was going to be and she was ready for it. Except, once again, only one line had showed. This was when the fear had come that second time. She had been sure that she would be proved pregnant. It was crazy but she felt that she had let her man down. How would he react?

He had been disappointed but he had shrugged it off easily enough. "Had it take first time and had it take twelve months. Journey's different but its the destination that matters and we all know where my five-oh bitch is ending up don't we?" Then his eyes had taken on that harder look for an instant until he'd observed that they were both on the same page in that matter. It had sort of reassured her. The destination was, as the Closer said, certain. He wouldn't be settling for less but he also wouldn't be kicking her out.

It had all given her time to understand her relationship with Julius Moore. They fucked a lot and sometimes made love but they were not in any way a couple. She had known about Jean, of course. She knew that the Closer also had another woman visiting him. the evidence was pinned up to the wall in that back room. Another trophy pair of panties and another hand-written name tag. 'Nicola'. Claire knew nothing about Nicola, had never met her. She was a little surprised to find that she didn't resent or feel jealous of her.

With Jean it had been different. When Jean had come by and lifted her top to let Julius see the slight bulge in her belly. Julius' obvious pleasure and the gentleness with which he had put his dark hand on her to show where his baby was growing. Then Claire had felt envy and jealousy. Then she had realised that she would only resent the Closer's new bitch, Nicola, if her picture of a successful pregnancy test was pinned up ahead of Claire's own. The outside world might not understand but that was how it was. She came here to be bred, to be knocked up, to carry Julius Moore's baby. To become what he wanted her to be - a Black man's woman beyond doubt and beyond regret. Once you understood and accepted that then it was only any delay that was to be regretted.

So, yes, she knew what 'carried to term' meant. That rule bound her to birth and also to raise their child. Not that she had any problem with that. Once she had dumped her pills she had known that was her destiny, had accepted and welcomed it. No more denying her true self to herself and no more hiding it from the world out there. Her belly and then her family would proudly confirm her true identity.

His bitches gave their pussies and their wombs to the Closer and in return he gave them the chance to be themselves. His motivations might be questionable, were certainly as racist as fuck, but in the end that didn't matter. Both parts of the equation were getting what they needed.

Claire broke her train of thought and realised something. "Hey - what about Rule Nine! You missed it out."

Julius smiled a genuine smile, allowing a glimpse of strong white teeth. "Rule Nine is what we're dealing with today. Bitches accept their ink, piercings and surgery as suggested. They understand that their owner is always right." He paused and looked at Claire, again with that smile. "You up for that?"

She remembered seeing the words tattooed into the skin of Jean's arm. She wasn't thrilled by the idea but she knew what she had to say. "I pledge...", she had to pause to moisten her lips, "I pledge to obey the 10 rules of a Black man's woman." How strange that fucking fertile and unprotected had come so easily but the idea of a tattoo or cosmetic surgery was so daunting. She half expected Julius to laugh at her, especially if he noticed her caution.

He did notice - of course he did, there was very little that Julius Moore didn't notice. But he did not laugh. Instead he just nodded and reached for his pants.

***

This man was a big man like Julius, a few years younger but just as dark-skinned as the Closer. However, the skin of this man's arms swirled with interlocking tribal patterns of ink. His deep dark eyes gleamed with desire as he looked Claire up and down. She felt her own body react. He was impressive, not quite in the same way as Julius but he had the same presence.

"I'm liking what I can see," said the man. The unspoken comment was that he wanted to see more.

Julius gave a short laugh and then moved to the side of the store and took a seat. Claire felt rather than saw him go. She wasn't sure what was expected of her. Finally she glanced across at Julius for a hint.

"Izeye here is a true artist. The best at his trade on the East Coast at least. He also has a real fine taste in women. Up to you what you want to let him see."

So his name was Izeye. He'd greeted Julius and nodded at her as they arrived. Otherwise he hadn't said a word except to suggest she lose some clothing. He'd just looked at her, appraising her, every inch of her. All the time Julius had been speaking to him. Was it an artist contemplating his canvass or was it something more basic, a man looking at a woman that he desired?

"What would you like to see?" She realised how stupid the question was even as she said it.

Izeye just moved one hand in a small but eloquent gesture that took in the whole of her. Then he waited and she knew.

Claire's blouse already had the top couple of buttons undone. Now she unfastened the remainder and removed the blouse. Izeye silently held out a hand and she gave it to him. He carefully placed it on the back of a chair so it wouldn't crease. Meanwhile she had reached for the fastening of her knee-length skirt and undone them. She stepped out of the skirt and again handed it to Izeye who carefully hung it up. That was a little thing but she liked it.

One result of the Closer's rules was that his bitches could get naked, or near enough, very quickly. Minus her blouse and her skirt Claire really only had her kitten heels and her thigh-highs to hide her modesty. Something they were singularly ill-equipped to do.

"Hmmmnnn-hmmmnnnnn," said Izeye. Finally he spoke for real. "Outside of Mr Taylor I don't know a man that finds so many premium pieces of tail as you Julius. He reached forward and cupped Claire's left breast with one of his big hands. His thumb found her nipple and teased it. His eyes met hers and he raised an interrogative eyebrow,

Was he asking permission? It was a little late in the day. Not only because he was already doing what he wanted but also because her nipples were standing hard and proud, betraying her arousal.

"Real fine," said Izeye, "these would show off a heavy ring real good. But I guess that might not be convenient for you eh Julius." He glanced at Julius and smiled in recognition of the Closer's confirmation of his comment.

From that moment Izeye's attention was fully on Claire. His fingers traced patterns over her skin. He took note of her breasts, her butt, her face, her ears, it seemed of every part and aspect of her. That continued until finally he stood back and nodded in apparent appreciation.

"So first things first. Julius knows my rules and so I'm assuming..."

"Nah," responded the Closer, "not yet. We were thinking..."

It was the tattooist's turn to interrupt. "Don't fucking tell me. You're bringing a woman like this, a perfect canvass for an artist with the needle, and you're wanting me to ink some fucking script. You know that any muthafucka out there can do that job?"

"My bitches get the best." Julius' voice was perfectly calm. "But I take your artistic objection. What else you suggesting for my bitch?"

"I've been considering a design taking in the back and sweeping round and over the right side here." Izeye's dark fingers lovingly traced their way across Claire's pale skin. "But I'm knowing she'd not be ready for that. Not yet at least. Shame because it would be perfection on this one. For now, I'm assuming you want the left arm for the script."

"Sounds good," said Julius.

"I'm guessing it is on the usual terms?"

There was no response but Claire saw the tattooist give a little mock-grimace. Then he turned his full attention back onto her and she seemed to feel it physically.

"So," said Izeye in his beautiful deep brown voice, "here's how it is. You wanting this ink then I'll do it and in return when you want more then you'll only come here. That's understood. Now you ready for this?"

She nodded but that apparently wasn't enough.

"My work doesn't wash off, its permanent as it can be. So be real sure and tell me what you want."

Now she understood. Izeye's ink would mark her indelibly. It would forever be part of her and it would forever define her. "I want this, all of this." The words came naturally and easily.

Izeye had been watching her intently and now he nodded and gestured to a couch. While she moved across and laid down he was carefully scrubbing his hands and then donning gloves. He readied his equipment and moved close to her side.

Claire Doyle had been through many experiences in her twenty-eight years. One that she had never really contemplated volunteering for was being tattooed. However, as she had recently learned, most anything could change. She let out a breath of air as she felt Izeye's gloved hand gently take and steady her arm. A moment later she heard the noise of his needle and felt its first touch onto and into her skin.

***

Once you got into the zone then it turned out getting a tattoo wasn't so bad. it certainly couldn't compete with when she'd busted her leg chasing down that tweaker over in Milvern County. First the break and then the plaster and that hadn't been over in an afternoon! She couldn't pretend to expertise but just watching him you could tell Izeye was a master of his art. If she ever did want something else done then she would surely come back to him. If.

Once the swelling had gone done she'd been able to get a good look at his work. She'd seen plenty of bad tats in her day. She knew script tended to blur over time. Izeye's work was crisp and defined, spaced to remain legible. It was odd to look at it and to know that it was now part of her forever. Odd but good. She knew Jean and a lot of others already bore these words, already lived by these words.

Since leaving the Milvern County PD and coming over to the Capital Claire had been at something of a loose end. She had plenty of savings and was nowhere near broke - even if Julius hadn't found her a place to stay on very good terms. Well, to be more precise, Floyd Abenethy had found her the place. Something to do with that Foundation he worked for. Well she wasn't complaining - even if she knew Floyd would be expecting something in return. Maybe because she knew that.

However, while she had no immediate need for money she certainly did need something to do. Watching TV and waiting for the days to come round to her next visit to the Closer didn't quite hack it. Since starting basic training she'd always been busy, always on call. So she had done the best she could and got a job at Target. Ironically covering for a maternity leave which suited her as well.

Time passed and the days ticked off. She never contemplated going round to the Closer's. She knew he would call her if he wanted her and she knew he would only be alone if that was how he wanted it.

So she had been looking forward to getting back to that top-floor flat in the ugly building. It was almost the only thing in her thoughts as she drove over. However, you didn't just lose your instincts when you resigned from the force. As she approached the familiar neighborhood she got a momentary glimpse of a vehicle three back. The silver Camry. Well, to be sure, she couldn't swear that it was THE silver Camry. It'd been so long that she'd almost forgotten all about it. If it had ever really been trailing her before. It could all be a coincidence of course. As it ran through her mind she saw the vehicle in question turn off. It was a long way back, too far to identify the plate. She wondered if she really could make out that it ended '450' or was she only seeing what she expected to see?

She remembered what one of the young men on the corner had told her. There were a whole load of Camrys on the road. Even the Police used them because they blended in so well. Anyway why would this one have suddenly started following her again after months without a sight of it? She didn't know the answers but she did know that she was relieved the Camry had turned off.

Once she reached the Closer's building everything seemed as usual. Evening was falling and the young men were at their regular post. They would have been a cause for suspicion not long ago but now they were a reassurance. Their sharp eyes didn't miss much.

Someone else had seen her arrive too. She hadn't reached the top landing before Julius Moore was there to meet her. She drank in the very sight of him. A big powerful bear of a man, his jacket and shirt open to show the gold chain against his dark skin. More gold showed on his fingers as he brought a hand up to cup her breast, his mouth already meeting her own upturned one. They kissed deeply for a moment and then he was guiding her into his apartment, through the door with a lock that never got mended and seemingly never needed to be.

They hadn't exchanged a word. Words weren't necessary. They both knew what they were there for. Words could wait.

She was wearing her own gold today. A pair of hoop ear-rings that she had known he would like. Nothing too huge but just enough to send a message. His mouth found hers again and his fingers had undone her blouse before she even really noticed. She paused to shrug off the blouse and then his mouth was at her neck. Exploring the sensitive pale skin, kissing and then marking her there. Leaving another sign that she was one of his women, that she belonged to him.