index


Message-ID: <27753asstr$976180203@assm.asstr-mirror.org>
From: Pink Bette <pinkbet@my-deja.com>
Subject: {ASSM} Black burglars 1 (Tom) (MMF reluc d/s interr)
Date: Thu,  7 Dec 2000 04:10:03 -0500
Path: assm.asstr-mirror.org!not-for-mail
Approved: <assm@asstr-mirror.org>
Newsgroups: alt.sex.stories.moderated,alt.sex.stories
Followup-To: alt.sex.stories.d

BLACK BURGLARS 1: TOM

As labeled, this is an interracial story. It contains racist and
sexist language and a touch of domination/submission. It also involving
an initially reluctant "rape" victim.

Standard disclaimers apply. This is a story for adults; if you're a kid,
close your eyes and go away. If you think the story will offend you,
ditto.

Thanks,
Pink Bette
-----------

BLACK BURGLARS 1: TOM

I came awake with a start and lay there in the dark, blinking my eyes
confusedly. Some noise... the wind? Maybe a car on the street. I lived
in a basement apartment and my bedroom window was close to the street.
Over time I'd become used to the noise, but car doors slamming sometimes
still woke me up.

I closed my eyes and began to drift off.

Then I heard it again and I opened my eyes. I could feel my heart rate
increase. The noise continued, very close to me, and I thought, it's the
window. It was one of those times when I felt that if I just stayed
still, whatever was scaring me would go away -- but it didn't. I sat up
abruptly, turning to look toward the window, and I saw a dark shadow in
the window. It moved, and part of it -- a leg, I thought -- came
through.

Cheap damn window, I though irrelevantly, desparately trying to think
what to do. I jumped up from the bed and ran to the bathroom. The
bathroom door didn't have a lock, but there was a broom in there, and
maybe I could stab it at whoever was climbing in my window and scare
them away, at least long enough to call the cops.

The figure was halfway through the window when I ran back in wielding
the broom. I rushed in with a yell before I had time to scare myself out
of it, rushed in with the broomhandle foremost, to stick it to his guts.
It connected, hard, and I heard him "oof!" painfully. But he was too far
in now; he dropped to the floor and simply grabbed the broom to wrest it
out of my hands.

"God*damn*!" he exclaimed, bent over with the pain. "Sam, goddamn, get
in here, we got a live one!" And he forced himself to stand straight up,
moving around the bed with the broom held threateningly in his hand.

Stupid damn bedroom, I thought. He already had me blocked off, and a
shadow at the window told me that whoever Sam was, he was about to drop
in on my too.

That's when I remembered I was stark raving naked. And, for lack of
anything better to do, I leapt into the bed and pulled the covers over
me.

The guy I'd punched with the broom switched on the light. He stood
blinking against the brightness, just as I was doing, and then he said,
"Goddamn, bitch, you shoulda just stayed asleep and we woulda been in
and outta here."

He was black, young with a medium build, and he looked pretty pissed.
But shit. Perhaps unwisely, I told him, "Why are you so pissed? you're
the one breaking in on me!" He stepped towards me threateningly and I
shrank back.

Sam dropped in through the window. "Bitch has got a mouth on her," the
first guy said. Sam said nothing. He was black too, older the the first
guy and more burly-looking. He just stared at me, his eyes narrowed.
Then he said, "Hold her here, I'll check the place out." He brushed by
the younger man and passed out of the bedroom.

The young man stared at me. Then, abruptly, he dropped the broom and his
frown and smiled. Strange kind of smile, too, for the circumstances...
it wasn't in the least threatening, rather friendly in fact. He moved to
the bedside -- I instinctively moved to the other side of the bed -- and
switched on the bedside lamp. Then he returned to the door and turned
off the overhead. He turned and smiled at me. "I hate overheads," he
said apologetically. He smiled again.

"What's your name, bitch?" In spite of the pejorative, he still sounded
friendly. But I couldn't help pointing out the paradox with my answer.
"Bette; what's yours, prick?" I said ironically.

He laughed. "I'm Tom, bitch."

Sam came in. "Nothing. Old computer, crappy TV. Some case you did of
this place." Tom shrugged. Sam stared at him, then glanced at me. He
snorted and looked back at Tom. "Okay. Sure. Might as well get something
out of this."

The atmosphere suddenly changed. What did he mean? The answer came from
deep inside me -- it could be only one thing.

Tom look questioningly at Sam, and Sam said, "Sure, little brother. You
first."

Tom's smile grew wider. He directed it at me. And I felt a creeping
horror grow in me.

He approached the bed again, and this time snagged the blankets. I held
them tightly, but he tugged them roughly away and threw them on the
floor. "Mmmm-hmmm," he murmured, looking me over as I tried to cover
myself with my hands. "You look fine, Bette, very fine. Very fine." He
sat down on the bed, his body angled so he could face me. Sam cocked his
head to one side, then turned to leave the room.

"It's all right, Bette," Tom said softly. "You look very nice... very
welcoming. Hospitable." He chuckled lightly. Sam came back in with a
folding chair from the kitchen. He set it up against the wall and sat
down, his arms folded.

"Tell me, Bette," Tom said. "You ever had a nigger cock up inside you?"
He looked at me earnestly. "No?" He smiled, shook his head. "I'll tell
you something. I never fucked a white bitch before." He gestured at Sam.
"Sam has, but he's being nice to his little brother tonight, letting me
have first go at you. Ain't that nice of him? But you, Bette -- you
twice as lucky. I get to fuck *one* white pussy, but you get to get it
from *two* nigger cocks. Two. Don't come better than that."

He kept talking as he began to unbutton his shirt. "Now, Sam, he's got a
pretty big cock, just like all you white bitches imagine. Mine, it's not
quite as big, but it knows what to do when it's hard, it knows how to
make the bitches moan." He unbuckled his belt and unzipped his jeans.
"It's hard now, bitch, just thinkin' about how tight you gonna be. How
you gonna beg it to pump into your hot juicy pussy."

I was speechless, scared, trying to pull away from him... gauging my
chances at doing an end-run around him, around Sam, into the bathroom
with nothing to block it closed. No way. I was caught. I felt like a
deer in the headlights.

His voice kept on, soft, mesmerizing, saying those words. "Gonna shove
it into you, bitch, make you beg for me to fuck you hard and deep, just
like I know you white bitches like it. Gonna fuck you like a whore,
woman. Gonna fuck you like a whore, cuz you are one, aren't you? Just
been waiting for a nigger buck like me to come 'long and spread your
legs, haven't you, Bette?"

He stood up and let his trousers drop. His cock stood out from him,
stiff and virile. I stared at it... realized I was --

But before I could complete my realization, he completed it for me. He
reached forward, dipped his black finger between my legs, and drew it
up, sniffing. He smiled, showed it to me. "Like I said, bitch. You a
whore. Wet like a whore, gonna get fucked like one. Gonna stick it to
you, shoot my hot nigger jism up inside you, use you like my own white
bitch. First me, then Sam. Then maybe both of us. How'd you like that?"

He'd kicked his shoes off and shimmied his jeans down; now he stepped
out of them, sat a moment to peel off his socks, and stood up again. He
walked around the bed, magnificently erect -- yes, those were the words
that came into my head, and I knew he was right, I was wet and excited
and wanted it, wanted that stiff prick impaling me -- magnificently
erect on his fine black muscular body that was about to take control of
me, possess me, use me like a whore.

But still, instinctively, I fought him when he bent over me. I closed my
legs to him, tried to keep him out, knowing that he'd force me. He
laughed, trying to pry my legs apart, his cock bobbing in front of him,
eager to take me. I struck out at him, he caught my hand and held my
wrist tightly, laughed again. "Want it rough, bitch? Tha's okay, some
bitches like it like that." And he laughed and called to his brother,
"Yeah, Sam, you're right, this white whore is why I wanted to burgle
this place... I don't think you'll be too unhappy about that when your
turn comes."

He lowered himself on me. I felt his weight, felt his stiff prick
against my belly, his knee as he tried to force my legs apart. "I bet
when I get those legs open, you gonna have a nice pink slit, pink and
wet. Pink Bette, tha's what I'll call you when I tell the boys I got a
whore for them to fuck. Hungry pink cunt, hungry for nigger cock, hungry
like a whore."

And then took hold of my hair and held my head still. He looked down
into my eyes, his own eyes laughing, and slapped me.

I gasped. He laughed, and he jammed his knee between my legs and jimmied
them apart. He reached down and I felt his thumb running between my
labia, feeling how wet I was. He brought it up and stuck it under my
nose, forcing me to smell it. "White whore," he said mildly, looking
into my eyes. And I couldn't deny it.

He reached down to guide himself into me. I felt his cockhead enter, go
in a little further, and I admit it, I admit it, I pushed up with my
hips, wanting to take all of him into me, wanting him to possess me with
it. He stared into my eyes, and then his face got hard, as hard as his
stiff nigger prick, and with a vicious powerful thrust he jacknifed
himself into me.

"ahhhhh!" I groaned.

"Oh god, Sam," he said. "This bitch is tight." He pulled back and thrust
into me again. "Hot inside, hot and tight... she fits around my cock
like a glove." Out, in. "I think we gonna make more from this whore than
if she had some real stuff to rip off," he told his brother, thrusting
into me again, "she's so hot and fine, I'm her first nigger cock, but I
think she can't wait for more --" and he pulled out, jackhammered into
me again -- "if she's this tight on my cock, think of how it'll feel for
you, bro?" -- he pulled back, fucked into me again. His commentary
turned me on, telling his brother like that what it was like to fuck me,
as though I my mind wasn't there, I was just there to be used.

Then he stopped, his cock deep in me. I groaned. He looked down at me,
breathing hard, but smiling. I groaned again, tried to pull him into me.
He didn't move, just lay there, pinning me down, smiling. Laughing. I
couldn't understand. He virile tool was hard, stiff in me. I knew he
wanted to fuck me hard, to come inside me, to paint the inside of my hot
wet cunt with his nigger jism, but he just lay there while I groaned.

And then, a moment before he said it, I knew what he wanted. His words
only confirmed it.

"C;mon, bitch. Tell me what you want."

I glared at him angrily, but he only laughed. "C'mon, bitch. I want to
hear it."

And I admit it -- I did. "Please," I said, but that wasn't good enough,
so I said, "please, fuck me," and that wasn't good enough either, so I
said, "please, please, I'm begging you Tom, fuck me, fuck me, fuck me
with your stiff nigger prick, fuck me hard, hard, please, please" until
the desparation in my voice was so obvious that he began again, pulling
his cock almost out of me, then fucking it into me again, fucking me
deep and hard, and I spread my legs as wide as I could to take him into
me deeper. He grunted on top of me, and I felt his brother's eyes on us
as machinelike he pistoned in and out of me, all the time calling me a
whore, a bitch, a white fuckhole who he now owned by virtue of how he
possessed me now with his fucktool.

"I own you now, bitch. Don't I," he said, thrusting viciously into me.
"Don't I."

"Yes," I gasped, "yes, yes, fuck me, fuck me."

"Tell me, bitch," he commanded. "Tell me who your master is."

"Yes, yes," I gasped, and then I heard what he wanted me to say, and I
said, "Yes, yes, you're my master, you own me --"

-- and he came inside me, his nigger cum shooting up inside my cunt hot
like lava from volcano, sparking off my own orgasm. My whole body
shuddered with the force of it, the force of him on me and in me, his
command of me in just the brief time since he'd forced himself through
my window and then between my legs.

After a couple of minutes he smiled down at me, his eyes friendly again.
"Good girl, Bette," he said. He pulled out of me. "Now your master says,
spread 'em for master's brother."

And Sam stood up, expressionless, his zipper already unzipped and his
cock huge in his hand.

--

Pink Bette

-- 
Pursuant to the Berne Convention, this work is copyright with all rights
reserved by its author unless explicitly indicated.
+---------------------------------------------------------------------------+
| alt.sex.stories.moderated ----- send stories to: <ckought69@hotmail.com> |
| FAQ: <http://assm.asstr-mirror.org/faq.html>  Moderator: <story-ckought69@hotmail.com> |
+---------------------------------------------------------------------------+
|Archive: <http://assm.asstr-mirror.org> Hosted by Alt.Sex.Stories Text Repository |
|<http://www.asstr-mirror.org>, an entity supported entirely by donations.         |
+---------------------------------------------------------------------------+