Faith Debased Ch. 6

I spread my knees wide apart and my eyes never leaving Regina, a come hither look in my eyes and suggestively licking my lips, I did the best bump and grind I could manage. I rolled my hips for her; I thrust them at her. I fell back on my outstretched hands and wantonly undulated my pelvis, lewdly fucking the air with my wet pussy.

I straightened up and noticed that Regina was unzipping her sheath down the back. She held it in front of her for an excruciatingly long moment, then let it go. The silk slithered down her body and lay at feet like a red puddle. Clad in only a blood-red garterbelt--absolutely, the perfect frame for her thick brunette pussy, smoky nylons, and her black stiletto heels she was, without a doubt, the sexiest feline I had ever seen.

"Do yourself for me, Slut," she purred. "Get some fingers busy on that hairy pussy and show me how my nasty slut wants her cunt to fucked. Show me just how bad you want me."

Until that moment, no one except Cal had ever called me a slut. Hearing it sensuously purred from Regina's mouth set my blood boiling. I crammed two fingers into my drooling cunt, then a third and shamelessly masturbated for her, unabashedly showing her how I fucked my nasty slut cunt. I made myself cum for her, spewing my cunt juice down onto the guest bed…like I had done to the speakerphone while having phone sex with Cal that morning, proving conclusively to Regina just how desperately I wanted her.

Regina walked over to the bed and entwined her fingers in my hair. "You are a nasty slut, aren't you?" She turned my face up to hers. "Tell me what you are, Slut."

"I'm a slut," I whimpered. "I'm a… I'm an obedient cumslut for Cal, and I'm a shameless, nasty lesbian slut for you."

"Yes, you are. And you've done such a convincing job of proving it, that I'm going to fuck you." From behind her back, Regina produced her dildo, which she must have slipped out from under the mattress while we had been getting my unconscious husband tucked in. She brought it to her nose and sniffed. "Someone's been using this big, bad, black boy lately." She put it against her parted lips and slid the entire ten inches into her mouth and down her throat. She pulled it back out and licked the shimmering surface. "Tastes like a certain nasty, shameless, obedient cumslut I know."

Regina was driving me crazy acting like this; she could see it my eyes. She twisted her fingers in my hair. 'Well, my shameless slut likes having my dildo fucking in and out of her nasty cunt…" She brought the dildo down to my pussy, coated the bulbous head in my free-flowing juices, then pressed it against the inflamed entrance to my soupy cunt. "…then that's just what she should get; a real good fucking."

The stern, unmerciful tone in Regina's voice told me what was about to happen; she was going to use me like the slut I was. Regina was going to rape her shameless slut with a big black dildo. I came hard and wet before the head was even partially inside me. I came at least seven more times with Regina relentlessly pounding that big black cock into me, fucking me, using me like a debased slut. Writhing, bucking, thrashing under her unceasing cuntal assault, a pillow crammed against my face to keep from being heard down the hall, I cried out in release after explosive release as she exquisitely raped me with her demanding black dildo.

Eventually, Regina took pity on me and yanked the dildo from my cunt. She brought to my gaping mouth. "Make love to it, Slut." I kissed it. I lewdly laved it with my tongue. I slutishly licked my own cum from it. I wantonly ran my drooling mouth along its slick, thickly veined surface. She pressed it against my pursed lips. "Suck it!"

I opened my mouth and she pushed the dildo to the back of my throat. I sucked it like I sucked Cal's cock, ravenously, taking more and more of it into my throat until all but an inch or two remained outside my severely ovaled lips. "Take it all," Regina coaxed, "and I'll let you eat my pussy, let you slither your slutty tongue into my juicy cunt, let you tongue-fuck me, and then I'll allow you to swallow all my hot honey when you make me cum."

I lurched my head up off the pillow and swallowed the remaining inches.

The dildo was pulled from my mouth. Regina was on the bed, and then her knees were straddling my head. Her humid pussy was poised right above my face. She grabbed my hair in both hands and forced my watering mouth into her juicy cunt. "Eat me, Slut!"

I rapturously ate her pussy. I kissed and sucked the swollen lips with total abandon. I twirled my tongue around and around her enlarged clit. I sucked her throbbing clit like a small pulsating cock, then fanatically tongue-fucked the juicy depths of her fantastic cunt as she frantically rode my face.

Regina stiffened above me. "Ohhhhh, God, Faith," she cried hoarsely, "I'm going to… going to… to…"

She came hard. Her hot cum, her succulent cunt honey, gushed from the bottomless well of her spasming cunt to bathe my face and overflow my mouth. I clamped my mouth to her pussy and swallowed all of her cunt juice I could, all that she would give me, and still I wanted more.

"What the hell got into you tonight?" I asked as Regina and we lay entangled in each other's arms and legs a long time later. Not that I was complaining about the dominant treatment I had received at her hands. I had sensed, even in the sternness of her voice, that I wasn't going to be hurt and had succumbed to being a slut for her of my own volition.

"All of your slutty tongue, that's for sure" she replied with a wan smile and kissed me. "You know something, Faith, for someone who never ate pussy until a week ago, you've become quite an accomplished cunning-linguist."

"I had a great teacher." I kissed her nose, her eyes, her lips. "And the most tasty subject matter imaginable."

Unlike being with my husband, Regina wasn't ready to zonk right out the way Brian usually was. Quite the opposite, we engaged in what, I suppose, would be considered mock post-coital sharing of ourselves. We cuddled and we kissed. We made out. We necked. We chuckled softly and cooed back and forth. We touched each other with shared intimacy, but not intimately. It's hard to explain, but, although it was indeed stimulating… beyond belief, it wasn't intended to further arouse, but to temper the burning desire we had for each another. It was heavenly.

Nuzzling the hollow of her throat, I once again inquired what had gotten into her tonight. "You," she mewed against my hair. Aggravated, I jabbed my thumbnail into her rib just beneath her tit. "You did." Regina grabbed my hand and rolled back so she could look at me. "I honestly mean that, Faith. Since Saturday night, you've gotten inside me, deep inside me, deeper than anyone else ever has. You make me crazy, you know that? You make me want to dominate you; you make me want to submit totally to you. Yes, I was the aggressor here tonight, you little witch, but I'm not so sure I wasn't the one being used."

I wasn't sure myself which of us had been used, and which of us had been the user. But, it wasn't something I wished to dwell on. Regina's ripe lips, her firm tits, and the lush damp foliage between her tawny legs were far more compelling prospects to contemplate.

"I don't know how I'm going to take the nights when you're down the hall with Brian," Regina said. "Being able to hear you two making love is going to be…" She grabbed my face and kissed me hard. "…it's going to be sheer torture, my little vixen."

"I'll do my best to keep it down," I promised with an impish grin. "I don't want my best girl being tortured… not beyond her limits, anyway."

We cuddled and cooed and made love twice more before I slipped back into my bedroom just before sunrise. It simply wouldn't do for my husband to catch his wife in bed with the new border. Not before she was officially moved in and had become an integral part of the family.

* * * *

With a queen-size bed, twin nightstands, a mirrored dresser, an easy chair and end table with a reading lamp already in the guest bedroom, moving Regina in took only a trip and a half between her pickup and Brian's "Butch".

"Now that cheapskate landlord will have a reason to double the rent," Regina commented, sneering at the bargain barn used furniture she was leaving behind. "He can now claim it's a furnished studio apartment."

Her clothes, microwave, TV, stereo, 2 boxes of household items and some food, and her computer and desk were all brought back to the house in one trip, then Regina and I returned to "clean up". And we did tidy up… after fucking each other silly with the impressive strapon from the one box she hadn't let Brian take on the first trip. And I learned why men tended to sweat when the action got hot and heavy; fucking is a lot more work than being fucked. And it can be a lot more fun, too… once you get the hang of wielding the weapon of pleasure obscenely jutting out from between your legs.

Saturday night I know was torture for Regina. Even though I did my best to keep it quiet, Brian seemed go out of his way to be vocal, and loudly vocal about what we were doing, knowing Regina could hear him. I wanted to rip his dick off and carry it down the hall to her as a trophy of my justifiable retribution for his insensitive cruelty.

Sunday was a boon for Brian; he at last had someone around the house to watch football with, someone who clearly knew what the hell she was talking about. It was also a real shocker to my husband when I joined them and matter-of-factly commented that a defender should never have let a receiver get inside of him, that he should have forced the guy to the sideline and kept him pinned there. Brian never even got a chance to debate the obvious issue, because the TV commentator… an ex coach of some renown, I'm sure… said exactly the same thing not five seconds later.

I never heard one word from Cal that weekend. There wasn't even a short note in my private email when I checked it while Brian was in the shower. It was as if that arrogant, black, marvelously cocked son of a bitch had cut me loose to sink or swim all on my own. God, how I hated him. God, how much more I want to be used by him… over and over and over…

* * * *

It was late Sunday night, closer to being Monday morning, actually. Brian was sleeping like a log, but I was wide-awake, horny, but not any hornier than what had become "normal" for me over the last few of weeks. I was more restless, at loose ends, than anything.

I slipped out of bed and silently closed the bedroom behind me. Directly across the hall was the computer and my salacious playland. Ten steps down the hall slept Regina… in the nude. Mental stimulation, or flesh and blood reality? I had my choice.

I chose neither. I went into the kitchen and put a large mug of water in the microwave. I stirred in some French Vanilla mocha, then laced it with brandy. On the way out of the kitchen, I spotted Regina's pack of cigarettes and lighter sitting on the table. I had tried smoking in High School and hadn't taken to it. But, that had been then, this was now. 'Why the fuck not', I told myself. 'Smoking was supposed to relax you, right'?

I brought the cigarettes into the front room with me, sat on the couch with my legs folded under me, and lit up. And damned near coughed up a lung with the first drag. "Sissy," I scolded myself when I could at last take a breath. By the time I finished that first cigarette, I wasn't coughing near as much and lit another. I was indeed beginning to relax. That, or I was getting light headed. It didn't matter which; it was time to do some thinking.

In the dark room, I took a couple of sips of my brandy-laced mocha, a deep drag off my third cigarette, and set my mind adrift. Like a ball bearing in a pinball machine, my thoughts bounced from one troubling question to bump up against a similar notion. It would sideswipe one problem only to ricochet off a riddle then careen into an even more puzzling knot of contention. It would recoil from a valid point, then boomerang back and collide head on with a pertinent issue. Then, utterly frustrated, my fractured thoughts would streak for the safety of the dark hole of oblivion, only to be slapped back into play by my stubbornness to understand what was going on in my life.

One conclusion I did reach was that I was less concerned with what I had already done, than I was anxious about where my life was surly headed. And it wasn't just what life might hold in store for me that I had to contend with; there were at least three other players in my perplexing quandary.

I loved my husband, less in the sexual sense then I once had, but there were still undeniable feelings there for Brian. And, I was madly infatuated with a sultry lesbian named Regina. And, I knew in my heart that I would always belong to Cal; hopelessly, helplessly, unequivocally, and obediently.

There was no one I could talk to about any of this. My husband had no idea of what was going on right under his nose. He would be shocked and hurt to discover that his meek and petite wife was actually a debased cumslut for a big-cocked black man and an insatiable slut for hot wet pussy. He'd most likely be outraged, too. What could come of that was anyone's guess. He could yell and scream and holler, then forgive me, or he could throw my slutty white ass out on the streets where degenerate sluts belonged.

Regina would tell me to chuck it all and run off with her. Not an altogether unpleasant option, all things considered.

Cal…? Would Cal take me in if Brian kicked me out? Would he make me the white slut of his house? Hell, he could be married, for all I knew… though, I seriously doubted it. What if that arrogant black bastard only got off on slamming that huge, fantastic cock of his into married women who couldn't tie him up with threats of lawsuits for alienation of affection if they became pregnant? Respectable white women who wouldn't dare admit to the world that they had become the very same sort of willing, insatiable slut, helplessly addicted to a black man's far superior cock, that I had? What then?

Then, I admitted to the unfathomable darkness, then I would simply have to pull myself together, go somewhere else, far away from all I now knew, and find another domineering, hugely-cocked black man to debase myself for. And, also, find a way of bringing Regina along with me.

By the time I had made and consumed another brandy mocha and smoked half the pack of Regina's cigarettes, I was no closer to answering these, nor the multitude of other questions that sprang from those already troubling me. I went into the "office" and got online, pulled up my email and checked again. Still nothing from Cal. The pain in my heart hurt worse than the ache in my cunt. I was on a physical and psychological roller coaster, buffeted at will by savage twists and hairpin turns, filled with impossible highs and bottomless lows, and I truly didn't have much say in what happened, or didn't happen.

I shut the computer down and slipped back into bed beside my husband. I lay there staring up at the blank ceiling. Cal would contact me. I knew he would. His superior black cock owned me. Cal Saul owned me and we both knew it. We would be together again and I would debase myself for him like the insatiable cumslut he expected me to be. The biggest, the most impossible to answer, the most agonizing question was: "When?"

From the first interracial video I had avidly watched and masturbated to, my libido had undergone some serious reprogramming. The debased cumslut/ lesbian slut I had become as a direct result of becoming hooked on hot, wet, unimaginatively gratifying sex… I couldn't go back and correct what had so far happened and I was powerless to affect whatever lay ahead.

I gave up trying to figure it all out, pulled the covers up around my neck, closed my weary eyes, and waited for somnambulistic detachment (sleep, in other words) to eventually overtake me. Fate would deal out the cards and I would simply let the chips fall where they may.

Like a debased, enthusiastic, now totally committed cumslut really had a choice in anything that happened to her, anyway.

The End

Author's Closing Comments Ok, there you have it, readers. With these final words Faith Debased is drawn to a puzzling, unfulfilled close. Feedback will let me know if you've had enough, or whether there should be a sequel.

Whatever your decision is regarding Faith's future, I do hope all of you have enjoyed reading this half as much as I've enjoyed writing it. In all truth, it's been at least as stimulating on this side of the keyboard as I've attempted to make it on your side of this libidinous equation.

With an author's deepest affection for her readers;

Jordon Lynn