In the Ghetto

"Eeeii, please, please don't," Michelle pleaded, her plea ending in another cry, "owww," as Leroy twisted his hand on her soft mound, her tiny hands covering his in a vain attempt to relieve the pressure.

Her pleas made Leroy grin evilly, but he released her hair and breast, his hands dropping to her small waist, completely encircling her body. Leroy lifted her straight up and held her over his head, her feet dangling in front of his hips, her eyes wide with fear and bewilderment. Leroy turned and stood Michelle on the felt top of the pool table, then stepped back to examine her, his eyes focusing first on her feet in her white high heels, her tiny ankles, then moved up her shapely, tanned legs, admiring the muscles of her calves, the alluring curving that ended in her knees, then up to the white linen skirt Michelle was wearing, barely revealing her rounded thirty-four inch hips that pinched in to her twenty-four inch waist.

Leroy stared at the flowery silk button-up blouse with a Nehru collar that Michelle had selected for her plane trip, his eyes burning into where her small breasts pushed against the silky material. Last, Leroy's stare examined Michelle's lovely face, appreciating her full lips, bare of any lipstick, her tiny button nose, and her beautiful green eyes. His eyes locked onto hers', willing Michelle to return his stare, her fear making it impossible for her to look away, like a deer caught in a car's headlights at night.

Finished with his examination of the shaking woman standing awkwardly on the table, Leroy commanded, "strip for us, bitch. Take them clothes off."

Michelle's eyes opened wider in disbelief, her mouth slightly opening as if to protest, but saying nothing. Hearing the big blacks' words, Greg had struggled to his knees, his hands gripping the edge of the pool table, then pushing him- self erect. "No, no, mister. L-leave her alone," Greg managed to blurt as he held his aching stomach.

Angrily, Leroy's large hand swung in an arc, landing solidly on the side of Greg's head above his left ear with a loud smack. Greg went stumbling backward, falling against the wall, his head thumping hard as he went to the floor. "You shut your mouth, boy." Leroy stepped to where Greg lay and kicked him in the ribs, causing Greg to roll over on his stomach. Leroy reached down and stuck his hand in the back pocket of Greg's pants, then with a strong jerk, tore the pocket lose from the rest of the material, leaving a gaping hole that revealed Greg's underwear. When Leroy straightened, he had Greg's wallet in his big paw. He flipped the leather billfold open, saw several bills and withdrew them, stuffing the money in his pocket. Leroy then fished through the credit cards, selecting a couple and putting them with the money he had taken. He saw Greg's driver's license and pulled it out and studied it for a minute before sticking it in his pocket with the other loot before throwing the wallet on the pool table.

Michelle cried out, "pl-please don't hurt him! Pleeease!" She stepped to the side of the table and leaned over to see if Greg was seriously hurt. Seeing the large red spot forming on his cheek and ear, Michelle turned her head toward Leroy and begged, "don't hit him again, please? I'll do what you say, just d-don't hit him any more." Her face emphasized her concern for her husband, her mouth turning down into a pout, her eyes beseeching.

He pointed at two of the blacks standing on the other side of the bar and motioned to the half-unconscious Greg. They quickly went around the far end of the table and, each taking an arm, dragged Greg around the felt table to a chair and dropped him in it, his head again hitting the wall as the chair tilted backward, his eyes rolled back in his head.

Leroy returned his attention to the visibly shaken girl on the table who was staring at her husband's limp body. He quickly reminded Michelle of his earlier command as though nothing had happened. "I said, take them clothes off, you white whore. Either you take them off, or I'll cut 'em off." As he finished his order, Leroy reached in his back pocket and withdrew a pearl handled straight razor. Then with a flick of his wrist, he flipped it open, revealing a long, shiny blade, holding it up for Michelle to see that he meant what he said.

His last words caused a commotion at the tables in the front of the bar. Two black women had risen to their feet, their hands clutching the men they were sitting with, pulling the staring men from their seats. Leroy turned at the sound they had made and laughed, then turned serious as he spoke, "not you, Chantel. Sit yo ass down. Anyone else want to leave, you betta go now." The woman called Chantel immediately sat back down while the other woman, after slapping the back of the head of the man she was with, quickly pulled him out the door with her. Leroy took a step toward the tables, looking at where the woman he had called Chantel sat with a tall, skinny black man with glasses. "You git your ass out of here, too, Alphonse. We'll take care of your woman."

The skinny black noticeably grimaced at the use of his proper name, knowing the ribbing he would receive, as he arose from his chair meekly, too afraid of the mean Leroy to argue. His fear of ribbing was quickly realized as a black at a table near him yelled out, "Alphonse? Alphonse? That you name, Al?" Then he bent over in helpless laughter. Another voice loudly advised, "you betta git home to yo mutha, Alphonse. She's lookin' fer you." More laughter followed as Alphonse made a hasty run for the door, his head bent in shame.

Leroy pointed at the black at the table he had whispered to earlier, then at the door. The man quickly got up and went to the door and flipped the dead bolt, then stepped to the wall beside the bar and opened an electric circuit box, appeared to hunt for something, then flipped two switches, the snapping sound loud in the hushed room.

Leroy turned back to face the pool table, and again raised the straight razor for Michelle to see. She hesitated briefly, staring at the blade reflecting the light above the table, then, her face reddening as tears appeared in her eyes, she reached for the top button of her blouse with shaking hands, fumbling with it until it came unfastened. Michelle went to the next button, then the next, and the last one above the waistband of her skirt. She pulled the silken material out of her skirt with trembling hands, smoothing it subconsciously around her hips before undoing the remaining button. Her hands dropped to her sides, the blouse opening slightly, as she prepared herself mentally to complete the black man's orders.

Taking another deep breath, Michelle opened her blouse wide and removed it from first one shoulder and then the other, letting it slide down her left arm while gripping it with her right hand. She stood there holding the blouse, her white bra completely covering her breasts. She looked around for a place to lay the dainty covering, not wanting it to get soiled, then settled on dropping it on the edge of the pool table.

The younger black standing by the side of the table guffawed, "hell, Leroy, look at those tits! I am gonna suck them dry."

His belittling words made Michelle's face turn even redder and she crossed her arms over her chest.

Leroy was aggravated by the interruption of the strip show and he growled at the young black, "shut up, BJ." Then he impatiently ordered Michelle, "get them clothes off, slut."

Michelle jumped at his sharp voice and immediately dropped her arms and started to reach behind her to undo her skirt. Leroy halted her move with another sharp command. "Not the skirt, bitch. Take that bra off. Let me see your tits."

Michelle obeyed, her eyes downcast, staring at some unseen spot on the felt at her feet, as she slipped first one strap off a shoulder and then the other, working her arms out of the thin, loosened, straps. With the straps hanging under her arms, Michelle worked the strap surrounding her chest around to the front, her small, cone-shaped breasts jutting out over the elastic material. Michelle undid the two hooks holding the bra together and bent over to place it on top of her blouse, her breasts slightly swinging, gravity pulling them away from her chest, shaping them like small funnels. When she straightened, she started to put her hands over her breasts, then caught herself, not wanting to further anger the mean-looking Leroy, and dropped her hands to her sides as she awaited his further command.

Her now-bare chest brought several comments from the black men in the room. Even those who had been sitting at tables had approached the pool table to watch the white woman strip.

Leroy's voice boomed again in his deep bass, "now the skirt, whore. We've seen enough of yer tits."

Michelle demurely reached behind her and, uncovering the zipper, slid it down the back of her skirt, then she undid the solitary button at the waistband of the expensive linen garment, her mind thankful that she had on a new pair of panties devoid of any period stain while mortified that they would see she was wearing a pair of bikinis, shaped almost like a thong. No one other than Greg and her past boyfriends had ever seen her in her underwear and the shame of so many leering eyes watching her every move was almost unbearable. But Michelle continued her undressing, fighting to control and hide her embarrassment, as she worked the top of the skirt over her tanned belly and firm, muscular behind, slowly revealing the white lace undies that dipped from her rounded hips to just above her pubic mound.

She heard a loud whistle as she bent to step out of the skirt surrounding her knees, the bending causing the silky material of her panties to wedge between the cheeks of her ass, giving the men behind her an enticing view of her white ass. She carefully folded the skirt and laid it on top of her other garments, always very neat, even in front of the lewd bunch of black men. When she straightened up, she looked around the smoke-filled room, avoiding the many eyes staring at her almost-naked body, calculating how many men were studying her, fearful of what they had planned for her and Greg. She saw that every man in the room, at least twelve, were all standing now, packed around the pool table like it was a dance floor in a strip club. The only figure she saw sitting was the woman Leroy had called Chantel, but even she was attempting to see through the gathering of men at the helpless white girl on the table.

Leroy didn't waste any words, "the panties, cunt."

Michelle winced mentally at the name, feeling further humiliated by the dominating black man referring to her by her privates as though that was all she was, a cunt. Still, almost mechanically, she complied, hooking her thumbs in the band of her panties and sliding them down over her hips, her slow movements even more tantalizing to the crowd, hearing lewd comments but not understanding them. Michelle stepped out of the bikinis and folded them, also, before placing them on the stack of clothing, shielding her shaved pubic bush with one hand as she bent and then straightened.

Leroy crooked a finger at her, "c'mere, slut."

Dutifully, Michelle walked to the end of the pool table where Leroy stood, her hand still modestly in front of her, partially covering her last vestige of decency. Leroy reached out and brushed her hand away roughly, his gesture making it clear that she wasn't to hide any of her body. He stared anew at her total nakedness, drinking in the smooth flow of her legs to her curvy hips, the tan line circling around her body half way down her belly, the barely visible navel, the hourglass shape of her torso, accentuated by her perky breasts. Lastly, he studied her face, his eyes piercing into her very soul, his stare telling her that she belonged to him, body and soul. She would be his slave, his eyes spoke.

The young black named BJ had stepped to where Michelle had placed her clothes and picked up the weightless panties. He fingered the silk, then raised it to his flared nose to sniff her scent, inhaling the perfume of her body before slipping the garment into a pocket and returning his attention to the back of the naked white woman standing at the other end of the table, admiring the curvature of her smooth back, the firm-appearing ass so inviting. His entranced study of the naked figure was interrupted by Leroy saying, "put some music on the box, BJ. And not that damn rap shit, either. This white bitch is going to dance for us." His eyes locked on Michelle's and he prompted, "ain't you, whore?"

Michelle looked down at the no longer scowling face of Leroy and was surprised that she hadn't seen his handsomeness before. Funny, she hadn't ever thought of blacks as being handsome, but she realized that this big man was. He didn't have the normal kinky hair of most blacks, his hair longer, and wavy, slicked down in something like a pompadour. His nose was flared, but barely, his thick lips sensual above a square-cut jaw set in smooth chocolate skin, devoid of any bumps or blemish. He had very broad shoulders that tapered from a chest bulging with muscles to a slender waist and hips, with his butt bulging outward like two compacted muscles waiting to explode with energy. She looked at his arms, admiring the huge knotted biceps with rope-like veins, his forearms smaller copies of his upper arms, his hands that of a laborer, fingers thick and strong.

Michelle was brought back to conscious thought by Leroy repeating, "ain't you, bitch? You going to dance sexy for us." Michelle nodded, somewhat entranced by the commanding figure looking up at her. Hearing the music thumping in a slow jungle beat, it was like a switch had been turned on in her head, transporting Michelle from the terrifying surroundings to a more peaceful place, a place where only she could go, she began to sway, her high heeled feet moving in small rhythmic steps, turning slightly on her toes, bending her knees as she rolled her ass, her shoulders undulating sensually, her eyes closed as she moved to the music. Michelle loved to dance and often did so in private, possessing a skill that few white women had, the ability to move her body like a cat in harmony with the music. She was so mesmerized by the music, she didn't even hear the compliments from the crowd of men around her. "Damn, this ho' can dance!" and "man, look at that bitch. She's goo-ood!"

She was brought back to reality only when the music ended, her body immediately regaining the composure and propriety with which she had been raised. Her eyes opened slowly and saw the appreciative praise in the black eyes looking up at her, causing her to question herself, her actions. She looked at Leroy, who was now smiling up at her, unvoiced compliment in his eyes. He broke the spell by ordering, "turn around, girl. Turn around and bend over."

Michelle meekly did as told, standing near the edge of the table in front of the big man, her hands on her closed knees, her tits swaying beneath her. "Spread your legs, trash," Leroy added. Michelle again obeyed, slightly parting her feet, her legs half-spread. "Wider," Leroy ordered briefly. Michelle lifted one leg and planted it a good three feet from the other while she supported her upper body with her hands on her knees.

"Hmm," she heard Leroy mumble, "that's one nice looking pussy." Leroy then stuck one thick finger in the closed lips of her pussy and pushed it in all the way to the third knuckle. Michelle winced from the rough insertion, but said nothing as the finger wiggled inside her, then withdrew. "Nice and tight, but dry as hell," Leroy observed as he stuck the finger in his mouth, sucking on it noisily. "But we goin' to fix that. We'll grease that hole up good." Leroy studied the puckered hole above the pouting lips and commented, "nice looking asshole, too." He pushed his saliva-wettened finger against the tight hole, causing Michelle to start to straighten up with alarm. His angry voice stopped her rising. "Stay like I tol' you, bitch!" Then he jammed the same finger inside her, forcing open the tight sphincter, his knuckles slapping against her exposed bottom.

Michelle cried out, "ahhh, that hurts!" and again tried to straighten up, only to receive a painful slap on her bare ass as the finger plunged in and out, uninterrupted by her efforts to straighten and the tightening of her ass muscles against the intruding digit. Leroy used his other hand on her back to force her head down further, her ass now sticking straight up as her head was forced almost between her legs. As he held her there, Leroy cruelly worked his finger in and out, then added another finger, further stretching the previously unviolated hole. Michelle began to weep softly as she pleaded, "it hurts, it hurts. Please stop." Leroy ignored her and gradually worked another thick finger inside her punished asshole, the first three fingers of his hand ultimately becoming completely buried inside the hot hole.

Finally, Leroy's probing of the sensitive cavity ended, and he took a handkerchief out of his pocket to wipe his smelly fingers, letting Michelle straighten up, her legs spread, not by command, but to ease the pain she was feeling in her bowels. Finishing with the no-longer white square of cloth, Leroy threw it on the floor, then looked up at Michelle, still standing with her back to him, and ordered, "git your ass down here, bitch."

As though she was in a hypnotic trance, Michelle immediately complied with the order, turning around, then sitting on the table, she slid her ass over the edge until her feet touched the floor. She stood there with her hands to her sides, her eyes focused on the middle of Leroy's large, muscular chest, awaiting his will.

Leroy reached out with both hands and grasped a nipple between thumb and fore- finger. The dark pink appendages were half-erect, either from fear or chill, and his vise-like grip on the flattened flesh made them spring to full erection. Leroy chuckled as he pulled downward on the nipples, stretching the skin of Michelle's small breasts into the shape of a pears. "Git on your knees, you cum bucket slut." His downward pull increased as Michelle slowly bent her knees and, bracing herself with her hands on the blacks hips, dropped to her knees, wincing at the pain in her breasts, as her eyes looked straight ahead at Leroy's lower belly. "Take my cock out of my pants, slut. See what you're going to get." He stood over her with his hands on his hips, making no effort to assist Michelle, wanting her to submissively uncover her awaiting penetrator.

Obediently, Michelle reached out and grasped the zipper handle and pulled it down as far as it would go, then reached her tiny right hand inside the opening, feeling for underwear, surprised to find only thick, curly and matted, hair. She pushed her hand downward through the opening, her fingers encircling a very thick piece of meat, the flesh warm and soft to her touch, yielding as she tried to wrap her fingers around it, then beginning to stiffen as she pulled it upward toward the zipper. Michelle had taken Greg's cock out of his pants before, but it had never been as difficult, even when he wore tight jeans. Leroy's dick was bending where her thumb gripped it, pushing against the material of his pants, giving the appearance of some animal trapped in a bag as she pulled it upward, then moved her grip further toward the head and pulled some more, gradually working the long member in an arc until it was vertical.

"How long is this thing?" Michelle questioned mentally. Her efforts to remove the swelling cock was making it grow and stiffen, increasing the difficulty of removing it.

After at least a minute of effort, Michelle succeeded, the cock springing forth through the open zipper, the head barely making it past the top of the opening only because of Michelle's final tug.