The Debutante’s Fall

Someone screamed.

I opened my eyes and a man was standing in front of my with his red, swollen cock in his hand. He reached for my head, slipping his hand under my hair, and taking the back of my neck in his palm. I pulled back, plastering my spine against Bang.

The man who accosted me suddenly ducked, throwing up his hands to protect his face.

"What the fuck," Bang said.

He had tossed my drink at the man, then threw the glass at his face. The man stood there with a look of shock on his face, his cock hanging out of his fly.

"Motherfucker," Bang said. "Put that shit away."

The force of his indignation seemed enough to make the man back down. The crowd was with Bang, too, scorning the man who'd stepped over the line. This time, I thought. Next time I wondered if they might turn their scorn on me. Bend me over one of the little tables, hold me down and . . .

I had had enough. I twisted around and put my arms around Bang.

"Take me away," I whispered. "Please."

I could feel his hard cock under me, and I pressed my breasts into his big chest. I had so much adrenalin pumping through my body that all I wanted was to go somewhere quiet and allow myself to unwind. To feel a man inside me. To feel Bang in me. He was my oppressor, but he was also my protector, and I wanted him. Badly.

"Yep," Bang said. His affirmation made my heart leap, but then he added, "Soon," dashing my hopes. I laid my head on his shoulder and gave out one of those long exhales where my breath came out in shaky little half shudders. I wanted to cry.

"One last thing," he said. "Then we can go."

He was still scanning the room, looking for trouble. I steeled my resolve, looked into his eyes and waited to hear what he wanted from me next. He met my gaze for a moment, then looked away.

"Get down on your knees," he said. "Open my pants. Put my cock in your mouth."

I swallowed hard. He wanted to humiliate me. Degrade me. I understood that intellectually. I had humiliated Marlo and the other boy now my punishment was to endure my own public shaming. And I did feel degraded. But what hurt most was my own complicity in it all. I had set aside modesty and decorum and performed in my panties for a crowded room. I had squirmed in his lap, making my bottom and breasts available to anyone who wanted to fondle me. But my biggest crime was the fact that my sex was throbbing and wet, and I looked forward to bedding the big animal of a man that was abusing me. If I felt a little thrill in my chest at the prospect of getting down on my knees and tasting his dick, my face also burned with shame for allowing myself to be manipulated into sucking his cock. It was all too much for me, an overload of my senses. I wanted it to end. "Please," I whimpered. "Please. Let's just go."

He continued to scan the room.

"I'll do it upstairs," I said, "when we're alone."

Still he ignored me.

"I promise," I whispered.

It killed me to have to make that promise just to win a little privacy to suck his dick. I think he knew how much I wanted him. I think he knew a little piece of me hated myself for wanting him. I like to think he understood just how difficult the night had been for me. He smiled sadly at me. Something in his smile told me he felt something for me.

"Come on," he said softly. "The sooner you start, the sooner we go."

I gave up. Sighed. On some level, I knew I had brought this on myself.

I stood up, my legs on either side of him. As I moved to stand between his legs, I looked around the room. The people seemed to know what was coming. There was a current in the air, an electric pulse, and it seemed to resonate from person to person and then end somewhere in my chest. Because of the heels, I had to use Bang's shoulders and then his thighs to get down on my knees. I fumbled with his pants. The noise in the room rose and my hands began to shake. His belt buckle was complicated, his pants had buttons. He looked down at me with that deadpan expression. At the thought of displeasing him, I grew even more nervous.

By the time I finally got his cock out of his pants, I didn't even think or hesitate. I put it right into my mouth. He was huge. Thick as a can of beer and inky black. He filled my mouth, and I licked him like candy. I let the noise of the crowd fade into the background. I still felt an occasional hand stroke my bottom, or deposit a little cash in my underwear, but I ignored it. I got lost in the task at hand. And that's when I first learned that my big black tormentor was called Bang. It's embarrassing to admit this, but I had pinned all of my hopes on his ability to get me out of that place—and I had his cock in my mouth—but I still didn't know his name.

An older black man with a short grey afro and a business suit pulled a chair up and sat next to Bang. This man sat near the gun, and Bang allowed it. "Hey, Bang," the old man said. He reached into his jacket and pulled out a leather billfold.

"She for sale?" he asked.

My heart sank. I took Bang's cock out of my mouth. The old man seemed to know Bang much better than me, and I felt my chances of coming out of these negotiations ahead or even intact were very slim. It emphasized for me how precarious I had allowed my position to become. I was a fool.

I braced myself for the inevitable outcome. I was going to be sold tonight.

Sold again tonight.

"Everything in this place is for sale," Bang said, confirming my worst fears. He spoke to the old man in that comfortable, easy tone that good friends develop over long periods of time. I could feel the tears welling in my eyes. I had his fat penis in my hand and lowered my head, just to hide my face.

"But the store ain't always open," Bang said. "Right now—store's closed. This is a private dance."

I couldn't believe what I'd just heard. I sighed with relief and pressed Bang's big tool against my cheek. I stole a quick glance at the old gentleman and found him grinning. He put the billfold back into his jacket.

"She's cute," the old man said.

He had a bill in his hand and made a motion toward me to which Bang nodded. The old man reached forward and petted my head. When I looked up, he tucked the cash into my bra, and then he tweaked my chin. I felt humiliated. Cheap. But I also felt grateful. And horny. I put Bang's big dick back into my mouth. The more I thought about what he had said and the way he had treated me, the more I wanted him. I lavished his cock with my mouth.

"Come on," Bang said, stroking my head. The crowd was growing restless.

He stood up and helped me off my knees. As he assembled his clothes, I grabbed my pants and darted after him. I had to race and my heels made it difficult to keep up. When we got to the exit, the crowd was closing in. Bang had to retrace his footsteps, grab me by the arm, and then pull me through the door after him. Someone had the gall to follow us into the stairwell, where he found himself alone and up against Bang. He quickly backed down.

I plucked cash from the waistband and leg holes of my panties. I found bills stuffed inside my bra and the laces of my boots. It was humiliating. Soon I held my jeans in one hand and a fistful of cash in the other, mostly small denomination bills.

Maybe about fifty or sixty dollars.

When I finished, Bang smiled at me. I handed him the cash, a foul look on my face. I always enjoyed the idea of trading sex for money, but this had been tawdry. I felt cheap.

"I don't want it," Bang grinned, his voice incredulous. He put his hands up, palms out. "That's all you baby."

I dropped my hand and let the cash waft to the floor.

Bang laughed, his eyes twinkling. I couldn't be sure if he was making fun of me, or if it was something else. Mustering as much dignity as possible, I marched up the stairs, half naked and with my pants in my hand. Bang followed. Soon he overtook me, and then he led us, and eventually we came to a small private room with a bed.

I wanted nothing more than to get fucked.

It had all been an ordeal, but now it all seemed over and I wanted what I considered my reward. Bang's hard muscular body. His big black cock. I wanted the sex to take me away to someplace else, a place where I could forget the evening's torment. Once again, I couldn't have been more mistaken. I was going to get fucked, but it wasn't going to be the take me away kind of sex I was looking for. I was a dirty debutante, about to learn the lesson of my young life.

I reached into the pocket of my jeans and pulled out a condom. I handed it to Bang and asked him to put it on. He laughed and tossed it on the floor.

"Hey!" I scolded. "I only have one."

"I'm not wearing a condom," he said flatly.

He looked implacable. I couldn't understand his reluctance to wear the condom. I blinked. "I'll get pregnant," I said.

"I'll fuck your ass," he said. His expression didn't change.

I snorted and shook my head in disbelief. "What about disease?"

Bang's face broke into a huge grin. He laughed.

He put his hands on his hips. "You crack me up," he said. "You should have thought about disease before you got high with Marlo." His face turned hard. "You should have thought about pregnant before you chumped his little friend. You are leaving this house tonight with a load of my cum inside you. I don't care if it's in your pussy. I don't care if it's your ass."

He was being cruel, but I felt like we had bonded in the club, so I put my hands on his chest and looked into his eyes. "Please," I said. I clambered down to my knees, cursing those goddamn boots for giving me fits every time I wanted to get on my knees that night. I rubbed my hands on his hips and begged.

"Please," I said. "My parent's marriage is collapsing. They're constantly fighting. I'm just . . ."

I lost my ability to speak and shook my head. I hadn't meant to mention my troubles from home, but now that I had put it out, I felt vulnerable and tiny.

"Please," I begged, finding my voice. "I'm sorry."

Bang inhaled, his big chest expanding. No one said anything for a minute.

He exhaled.

"I have a wife," he said. He was speaking slowly and deliberately. "And a girlfriend," he added. "I don't even like anal sex. It's dirty. And I'm not that crazy about white girls. Or my job."

I saw where all this was going and felt lightheaded.

"What you don't seem to understand is that this is a crack house. And you" —he paused, raising an eyebrow— "are a crack whore."

I scowled bitterly, turning my head and folding my arms. I could taste something fruity and terrible at the back of my throat. I exhaled noisily, so filled with rage that my breath came out in halting little gasps.

"I'm sorry for your troubles," he said. "But troubles don't change nothing. We all have to do, what we all have to do. And right now, you have to get up on that bed." He pointed to the mattress.

"You can get on your belly or you can get on your back," he said.

"Don't matter to me whichever. Because," he paused, stabbing his thumb into his chest. "I have to do, what I have to do."

He began to undress, carefully folding his clothes as he took them off. I remained on my knees, terrible dark thoughts cycling in my mind. Bang said nothing else, and I refused to look at him. This was an upscale party at a fashionable property. I attended one of the most rigorous and prestigious schools in all the world. My mind raced, and then, all in a moment, kneeling on the floor of that little bedroom, I realized that nothing Bang had said was particularly false. This may have been an exclusive party, but it was nothing more than a den of dope fiends. I was an attractive girl, from a good family. But tonight, I had traded sex for drugs, and that made me the terrible thing he'd called me.

I was a crack whore.

I sighed. With acceptance, comes resignation. He was going to fuck me tonight without a condom. I would have to carry home a load of his cum, somewhere inside my body.

I blew air heavily from my mouth and climbed to my feet. I felt too ashamed to look at Bang. He doesn't like white girls. I took off my shirt and let it drop to the floor. My bra followed. I climbed onto the bed, lay on my back and raised my bottom, pushing my panties down my thighs. I had to sit up to work them past my boots.

I looked at Bang. He was emptying his pockets on a sideboard against the wall. He was big and virile and sexy and I felt certain he would get me pregnant. I didn't want to do it, but I reluctantly rolled onto all fours. I tucked my knees up under my body and raised my bottom high.

We all have to do, what we all have to do.

Soon he got on the bed behind me. I whispered to him that I had never done this before and he said that he had done it many times. I believe he said that to comfort me, but in light of his earlier admission about anal sex and his job, it made me shiver. How many girls had he schooled with this particular lesson? He applied the cold grease to my bottom and then I felt his finger probing inside me, relaxing my sphincter.

"This is going to hurt," he said.

Then he pinched my upper thigh so hard I almost collapsed onto the bed. I gasped and mewled and it went on and on. Finally he stopped and I had sharp, searing pain, throbbing in my thigh.

"Focus on that, you won't feel this," he said.

He pressed his cock against my ass. There was a small amount of pain, but it was nothing compared to the pulses of warmth already coming from my poor thigh. And then he was in me. Instead of pain, I felt an incredible fullness inside my ass. As he started to work that big thick tool in me, I had to work to keep my anxiety levels in check. He applied more grease and soon I started to calm down, and then I started to enjoy it. I lay my cheek on the cool sheets, held tight to the mattress, and groaned. This went on and on until I was almost beside myself. The whole night had been an exercise in ratcheting up sexual tension, and when an orgasm finally raced through my body, it came on like a freight train.

I screamed like a girl on fire, moaning and pressing my ass back against him. When I finished, I was sapped—still on my knees before him, my ass high in the air.

I might have been spent, but he wasn't. He continued thrusting into my bottom. Once. Twice. Again. One more time. And then he made good on his promise. He groaned lustily, held my hips firmly, and pressed his cock deep into me. I felt a rush of hot fluid inside me and raised my head. As I turned to look at him, I felt another gush of his molten liquid inside me. I rested my head in my arms and waited for him to finish emptying his juices into me. When he finally pulled himself out, I felt so empty. I collapsed onto my side, listening to my breathing. I can't remember ever feeling so completely sated.

Soon he tapped my boot.

"Wake up," he said. He was cleaning his penis on the sheets." You go find that boy that you disrespected, and you make things right with him."

I crawled out of bed. He was using a no nonsense tone of voice, and I didn't want to challenge him, but I felt slow and dimwitted from the sex. I scooped my clothes from the floor, then remembered I'd need to remove my boots. I looked around for a chair.

"What are you doing?" he asked.

I looked at him dumbfounded. I raised my jeans and my panties and was about to say something but he cut me off with a loud sigh, a weary shake of his head. "Jesus," he said. He reached into his neat pile of clothes on the sideboard and found his wallet.

"This is car fare," he said.

He held a fifty dollar bill in his hand and motioned for me to hand him my jeans. He folded the bill and stuffed it into one of my pockets, then tossed the jeans onto the bed.

"Before you leave, Marlo is going to offer you more drugs," Bang said. "He'll call it a peace offering, but it would be a mistake for you to accept it." My shoulders shook involuntarily. Bang stepped toward me. His shoulders and chest glowed with a light sheen of sweat from the exertion of fucking me.

"You're still in the store," he whispered emphatically.

"You need to go find that boy," he said. "Finish up. Make sure he's happy." He pointed his finger at my face as he said this, and I swallowed hard. "When you're done," he said, "you come back here. Get your clothes. And then you leave."

I looked at the panties in my hand, my jeans on the bed.

"Go on," Bang said.

He sounded impatient, as if he were talking to an unruly child.

I shuddered again, then my mind kicked into gear. I grabbed the sheet from the bed and drew it around my shoulders like a cape. I raced from room to room until I found whatshisname on a lanai with two or three others. He didn't recognize me. I tried to explain who I was and how we knew one another without embarrassing him in front of his friends. Finally I showed him my boots and the sudden look of shock on his face told me he remembered. I wasn't sure exactly what I ought to do. Should I apologize? I thought about what Bang said and decided not to take any chances. I opened the sheet. The midnight wind whipped it back from my hips and torso, and I held the fabric tight, opening my arms and holding them wide. I felt as if I were soaring through the night sky.

Whatshisname looked at me and smiled. He looked happy.

His friends politely offered to leave us alone. Something wet was leaking from my bottom. For the last time that night, I navigated the wobbly journey from those stiletto heels to my knees. After that night, I never wore those boots again. I loved them, but I put them in the closet at the dorm, and then I promptly forgot about them.

I focused on my studies.

My parent's marriage lasted three more difficult years before it finally came tumbling down. I was able to make myself available for both of them, but I had to learn not to let them force me into taking sides with one or the other. I became good at being an intermediary. My philosophy was we all have to do, what we all have to do.

Later that year, I met my husband, a good man whom I love very much. Three years later we married. On our first year anniversary, he took me downtown to an opera and who should I see but Bang. He was on the other side of the lobby with the most beautiful black woman on his arm. He had that same beautiful white smile, those same dark smoldering eyes. He seemed to know everyone and everyone seemed eager to greet him. I caught his gaze, but if he recognized me, he didn't show it.

Later that night, in my bedroom, I got down on my hands and knees for my husband.

I never again had the nerve to do anal, but when my husband took me that night, I imagined it was Bang back there, taking me, filling me with his big fat cock. Our lovemaking was memorable. I know that sounds crude, and I want to make it clear that I am not unhappy in my marriage. I rarely think of Bang that way. More often, if I think of Bang, it's with much so much gratitude, it's close to reverence. Marlo did offer me more drugs that night, just as Bang said he would. I felt so terrible after the humiliating experience of blowing whatshisname, that I feel certain I would have accepted those drugs, had Bang not warned me what to expect. Instead I declined. I took a cab home, paid for with the money Bang had slipped into my pants. If I want to get down on all fours for my husband and then imagine that it's Bang fucking me, schooling me with his big black dick, I most certainly will.

My husband is a high ranking executive at a Fortune 500 Company. He has a stressful job, and he often comes home on Friday night frazzled from a difficult week. I feed him and put the girls to bed. We go into the den and he turns on the TV to unwind.

I get down on my knees and put his cock in my mouth. We all have to do, what we all have to do. On nights like this, it can take forever for him to come. But I have less illusions about myself now. I know exactly what I'm capable of. I could have been a crack whore. Instead I'm a socialite. I try to be grateful for all that I have.