Santa's Helper Ch. 02bysatinlvr_mwf©
For those who have missed the first chapter, I strongly recommend reading it first, it contains the descriptions and previous events that will allow this chapter to make sense. For brevity's sake, I'm going to omit re-creating the scene...
My jaw hit the floor when I heard the organizer's request. It had not been enough to have just been accosted, and nearly raped, and now this woman had the audacity to take over another person's job, someone who had been mugged on his assignment, and wanted to go home! His assignment, frankly, should not have been difficult. It was just a matter of making holiday food deliveries to families and shut-ins who had little or no means to have a hot, healthy meal on this special weekend. Drive to the assigned locations, carry in a couple of plastic grocery bags of already prepared food, and smile and leave. I was told the poor man had a run-in with a guy while he was leaving his ATM, and all his withdrawn cash was taken. It was more just a coincidental turn of bad luck than anything else. The more I thought about it, I began to consider it. I mean, how hard could it be? Drive up, drop off, leave. Simple! Besides, it got me away from the mall, and the people who knew what happened, and were making me feel more uncomfortable just knowing what had almost happened to me.
I was given a map, two sets of meals to deliver, and advised I should bring my jacket. Not being well-prepared for a change like this, I just shrugged that off, and figured I would be in and out quickly, and I could stand in the chill for a few minutes. After all, I would be taking meals to people who may not even have shelter. Grabbing my purse, keys, and the two meals, I headed to the parking lot, and to my car. It only took about thirty-seconds before I got a wolf-whistle from some guy as I was pretty much strutting across the parking lot. My stiletto'd boots making my hips sway, and my red satin circle skirt floating unhindered nearly to my waist as my hands were full. I imagine I looked pretty fuckable just walking.
Shortly after, I managed to find the first address, in an older neighborhood. I was greeted at the door by a kindly little old lady, and she was so kind as to even to share her tea. She was so sweet, I had to spend just an extra moment with her, and I could see why people did this on a regular basis. But I had more deliveries to make, so I bade her farewell, and made my next delivery. I found it without great difficulty, but the area was rather unnerving. A poorer section of town, the rundown motel was a simple two-story affair, and as I pulled in, I could see that there were people hiding in the inner parking lot, or loitering. Some were looking bored, one was an obvious prostitute, and a several of them were probably homeless. A few were rather tough-looking, and as I made my way down the corridor, I made a special effort to gather my skirt and hold it close.
One man, in particular, gave me a hard stare. He was larger than me by far, possibly nearly six-feet four, and well over 200 pounds. With almost coal-black skin, a shaved head and some dark-looking tattoos, he looked scary enough, without his dark sunglasses and torn jeans worn low, to a point I was sure they would simply just fall off. He didn't even have his pants buckled! I had never felt so self-conscious in my life as I passed him, and even though I couldn't see his eyes, I could feel him leering at me, as my hips swayed and my unconstrained breasts jiggled inside my satin blouse, nipples still hard and full from the cold and the soft caress of the thin, silky material covering them.
I lost track of him as I made a turn down an entryway, to climb a set of stairs. Out of habit, I lifted my free hand to the stair rail, and my skirt was let loose, billowing softly as I climbed to the second floor. The stiletto heels of my boots required a little extra help with my balance on stairs, and this was no exception. I just had to endure the embarrassment and I was a bit chagrined as another couple of rude shouts rang across the quad about me, but I had to pay it no mind. I could not go fast enough for my comfort anymore, and so I made my way as quickly as I could, to the designated room number. I knocked on the door, a rapid staccato of my knuckles on hollow wood. As I stood there, waiting, I looked around, and saw what felt like a hundred eyes on me. I turned to look back at the door, as the seconds seemed to be like hours, before knocking again. Nothing. So I knocked again and simply waited, my head straight forward as I held myself in a poise to offer help to the needy. After that knock, there was still no answer. I had just finished my third knock, when a deep voice coming at me spoke.
"They done goan', whitebread..." the deep voice seemed to resonate down the hallway, and I turned to see who it was who spoke. My jaw dropped again as it was that man, the guy with the sunglasses, and skin so dark, I would likely not see him in a dark alley. Yet here he was, coming towards me, or was it at me? I turned to face him, trying and failing miserably to control the sudden lump in my throat, as well as my sudden reaction to run like hell. But as I looked at him, then past him, and then around me, I suddenly realized I had nowhere to go. The second-story hallway ended two doors down, and the only way down was past the thug. I stood with my boots together tightly, and my one hand filled with two plastic bags of a ready-to-eat holiday meal, and my other suddenly lost between my skirt and my chest, suddenly unsure which to protect. The open quad of the parking lot was allowing the wind-storm to circle and eddy its currents, and the updraft was playing hell not only with my skirt, but the thin red satin of my blouse. The soft fabric was trying to fit like a second skin to my C-cup breasts, and my nipples were full and erect from the chill and the soft caresses of the satin covering them. The matching red satin skirt was floating and flying in the wind, updrafts allowing those below to leer at my matching red bikini panties, as well as this guy coming to me at a rather unhurried pace. The hemline rose and fell as the currents wafted in and out, until reason finally fell into my head, and I dropped my free hand to cover my front, and to hell with the rest. I had to do something to maintain my modesty in this situation.
I cleared my throat, and tried to sound as reasonable as I could. "Well... I am supposed to deliver this meal to them..." I spoke slowly. "Do you know where they may be staying?"
The man simply gave me a predatory look now as he continued to me, his voice low and deep as he replied. "Proll'y skipped out, like most folks here. I doubt they comin' back." He finished. By then, he was right in front of me, and I had maybe a small amount of personal space in front of me, and the rest of the aisle-way behind me, which wasn't much, maybe twenty feet.
"I see..." and I paused, my mind suddenly trying to find a solution here. I was scared, not only because of what had happened to me earlier that day, but also because I was in an ugly part of town, and in a seedy hotel, filled with some of the discards of our community. To make things worse, I was alone, and like an idiot, I had left my purse and cell phone in my car. My only defense was my single car key and the automatic door remote control. "ummm... well, would you like to have it?" and I offered my hand holding the meal out to the man, in hopes that he may be hungrier than hornier.
He looked at it, and then around, as if pondering what to do next. He suddenly seemed to make a decision, and he slowly turned his head to look directly face me, and a slow, wide smile crept across his face. For the first time, I got a real good look at him, and I noticed he had a long scar across his forehead, as well as one down his cheek. His ebony skin shone, like it was freshly oiled, and his smile showed a large gap between his two front teeth. "Yeah, I could eat sumpthin'" and as I heard his words, I felt elation and relief. I would get out of this without any hassle, and could say I helped a man in need!
His hand reached past the bag, however, and he reached to my upper arm and shoulder, caressing the silky material before clutching my shoulder. "You know, we doan' off'n get someone like you down here. I think you'll join me." And with that, I suddenly grew nervous again. His hand reached to the door I had been knocking on, and with a simple twist of his wrist, he opened it, and my eyebrows raised up.
He noticed my look, and laughed in that deep timbre. "Ain't none o' the locks work here, whitebread." I started to protest as his hand began to usher me inside.
"I... I should go..." and my voice became a sudden shout as the ushering became a shove, and only the quick steps in my boots kept me from falling over on my side. "Hey!"
For some reason, I took great effort to make sure nothing happened to the meal in my hand, and it managed to stay in the bag and off the ground. Well, that is, until I got a look at the apartment. The place was disgusting, and even as my eyes were taking it in, the stench was assailing my nostrils, and my scrunched face told the whole story in my head. The scents of filth, staleness, urine, and perhaps something I didn't want to think about were all about the room, and the walls were covered with a mix of stained and faded paint, holes, and graffiti. Some words and symbols I could not identify, some comments were lewd, even to the point of identifying particular people. There was some broken furniture in the place, too. Cheap kitchenette with burns on the table, ripped and cut chair upholstery, and a refrigerator left over from the Eisenhower Administration. The freezer door was missing from it, and the main compartment door was latched shut. Even so, it still smelled awful. All this registered in just a few fractions of a second, it seemed, and as I regained my balance, the whole sensory input made me drop the bags of food on the floor, and lift both hands to my face. Nothing could stop the scent from hitting me full-force, but it was a natural reaction of shock and revulsion.
I turned to look at my tormentor, and he simply stood there, blocking the door frame with his entire body, almost acting as a complete door himself, he was so large. His hands clenched together, one into the other's palm, and he cracked his knuckles. Switching hands as the first was done. His eyes now leered at me blatantly, and I could feel his... whatever. I was filled with fear, and with dread. "You... aren't going to let me go, are you?" I spoke softly and asked with a sense of resignation.
He grunted. "When I'm done with you, maybe. But for now, you an' me gotta date. Into the bedroom, bitch!" and he made to step in and close the door with a swipe behind him. The only thing keeping me from vomiting from the air was the winds blowing in from that open portal, so I asked him to leave it open. He shrugged, and left it loose, and then advanced on me, pushing me in front of him, both his hands on my shoulders as I stepped in my booted heels as fast as I could manage, my body being steered deeper into the apartment.
I managed to push open the bedroom door as we reached it, and inside was more surprise. A single bed, queen-size, it looked like, no bedding or sheets, but it had some stains on it. One of them looked like maybe blood. There was a broken headboard with bedposts, and I could see lengths of some sort of cord or rope at the feet of the ones I could see. My mind was taking in all these things, and the lump in my throat returned. Questions ran through my mind. What could I do? What would happen? Would I survive?
There was no doubt now I was going to be raped. I knew in my heart that this thug was going to take me and bed me, until he had his fill, or rather I had his fill. Perhaps even more than once. My thoughts began to shift now, from defiance and fighting, to that of survival, and I tried to remember the things that the public service announcements and the police said. Be calm... be reasonable... comply if you have to. Well, it was looking like I was going to have to do the last one, certainly.
A window was above the bed, and the panes were broken, allowing the cold wind inside. With the front door open, and the window broken, the outside air came rushing in, and my skirt and blouse immediately reacted to the forces of nature's gusts, but it also swept the stench from the room, and before very long, I could actually smell and not worry of adding my stomach contents to the odors.
Once into the bedroom, he gave me a shove to the bed. I managed to catch myself before falling onto it, and I stood upright, and looked to him, assuming a posture of a woman of dignity. With my boots together, and my hands clasped in front of me, I spoke clearly, and what I hoped, confidently. "Alright... I know what you want. So I will make you a deal. I won't fight you, and you will have what you want, but you don't hurt me, and you let me go after. And please... wear a condom?"
He started to shrug off his coat, and his shirt came off, to reveal nothing but his ebony-black skin, and a hard, well-defined and chiseled physique. Had the circumstances been different, he might be a man some of my friends might fight over for a wild night with. The man paused. I think it had actually put him off-balance that his prey would make an accommodation, and offer a deal. I was surprised when he took his sunglasses off, and revealed almond-shaped wide eyes, almost bug-eyed looking. Together with his scar and his weird smile and the scar on his forehead, he was not a very handsome man, to say the least. His eyes narrowed slightly as he considered, and then he nodded.
"Alright, white bitch. All except the last part. I doan' wear rubbers. Ever." And as he finished his words, he had kicked out of his shoes, and hooked his thumbs into his waistband, using little effort to make his pants fall to his ankles. What I saw made me gasp as he stepped clear out of his clothing, now naked before me.
The man was gifted by nature. Relaxed, his shaft was easily six or seven inches, and swayed lazily as he shifted from one foot to the other. I stood there, frozen for a moment, immobilized with a sense of awe. I had never been with a black man before, and of course, everyone had either heard or read about the typical black male. Well, he wasn't typical, he was beyond that! I collected my sense and merely nodded now, resigned to my predicament. I had little choice now. I wasn't going to make love to the man, but he was going to fuck me, pure and simple. I hesitated for a moment, trying to figure out what I could lay on, as the bed was just... disgusting. He made the decision for me by just reaching out and pushing me over the bed, and then smacking my ass hard as I was bent over it. In a hurry, I clambered on, trying to remember the least-soiled spot to lay on.
As I lay back on my elbows, I made a small effort to smooth my skirt, just something out of habit, and I let my boots spread wider, and bent my knees until the heels dug into the mattress. Splayed loosely like this, the hem of my skirt slid up my thigh, to bunch at my waist, and expose my panties to him. I glared at him as I felt his skin on my hips, his fingers dragging my panties down, until the elastic forced my knees together, and I lifted my feet, and allowed him to remove them completely. He simply tossed them aside as he clambered on the bed, and pushed his way between my knees.
I looked into his eyes, speaking calmy, much more calmly than I felt, and my voice was even, almost monotonous. "You realize that I came to help you, and I am going to hate you when you are finished for this..." and I was shocked at his response.
"Hate me in nine months, ho'...but now you goan' love my cock like no one else!"
I shifted my gaze as I noticed some motion, and he had drawn his hand to his cock, which by now was growing, and I could see it literally grow before my eyes, each heartbeat making it bigger and harder, bouncing with his pulse, until he was able to start to rub it against my body, my crotch, without adjusting his posture, one hand next to my shoulder, and his knees between mine. He towered over me, and my thoughts were forlorn. He was right. I was going to love this. Even if I didn't want to.
One thing I was worried about was my body's reaction to sex. Some people are quiet, some moan, and some grunt. Me? I am a wailer, as my husband calls me. The feel of a man inside me can simply control my vocal chords just with a simply in and out thrust. My body feels it like electricity, and I wind up crying out with each thrust, and my arms and legs flail about, sometimes fully extended and flexed as I feel a shock of sexual pleasure with each thrust. I am so bad that in the two instances my husband and I went to 'go natural' and have sex outdoors, my crying out caused someone to call the police. They took some convincing that our encounter was consensual, and only the fact that the cops were patient enough to follow us to our car and get our ID was enough to prove we were indeed married, and I was not being raped, was what kept my husband from being arrested. That thought flashed through my mind, wondering if my responses were going to draw the police, and maybe my rescue?
I felt his cock start to rub up and down at my labia, my body already moistened from my earlier encounter, and the thick black head was, in a way, very erotic to me, and even as I was dreading what was about to happen to me, I could not help but feel a certain rush of something in my blood. He took a few moments to feed his cock to my lips, parting them until he used that weapon against my clitoris.
I felt it as a bolt of lightning as his cock began to tease my pearl, his grip making it circle against my hooded organ, and I folded, collapsing on the bed as my elbows gave way, my arms out at my sides. I managed a last whimper, begging him. "Please... don't... you don't have to do this..." and I looked into his eyes, pleading. Sadly, his eyes were as dark as his skin, and his only reply was to draw his cock down to my opening, and he grunted with a thrust as he began to drive that man-meat into my vagina. I let out a loud gasp, and my body began to stretch at my opening as he thrust, taking a few tries, pushing against my vaginal tunnel, until he was able to force his way in, and my eyes rolled back in my head. My back arched and I cried out, suddenly oblivious to all about me, except that huge black cock and the fury of pleasure my body was experiencing.
He pushed in further, making only one additional thrust as he forced himself on me, and in me, until he was buried in my depths. I gave a sharp cry as his cock hit my cervix, and he stopped, probably another inch or two to go until he was pelvis-to-pelvis with me. He rested there, a small gesture of kindness to my body as I stretched to accommodate him. But his patience was not long, and the next thing I knew, his hands were on my blouse, ripping it open, the soft red satin separating from the small pearl buttons holding it closed, the little round balls flying everywhere. Now I was laying there, my legs splayed, arms apart, and my bare breasts exposed. I had nothing left to hide from him, as he began to pull his cock out with his hips, a long, slow withdrawal, until it felt like he was nearly out of me, before pushing back in, a long, slow, firm push. And there my wailing began.
From deep in my diaphragm it came, the soft, but guttural wailing of a woman's soft voice. It wasn't piercing, but it was loud, and my head rolled back as my back arched again and my jaw was pointed skyward. With my soft painted lips open, my hands clenched into to fists, and my knees drawing higher, the sexual tension was building in my body faster than I had feared. Whatever hopes I had of not being forced to enjoy this were gone in a flash. I was going to climax, and it was just a matter of when, or even, how many times.