Date: Thu, 15 Sep 2005 16:42:45 -0700 (PDT)
From: jerome skorpio <j_skorpio_2005@yahoo.com>
Subject: Thug Cash Master, Part 7   (author, interr)

This story is pornoGRAPHIC fiction!
Should depictions of homosexual acts
or interracial domination offend your
sensibilities, read no further!!  If
you're under the age of consent, turn
back at once!!! Otherwise, read on...


THUG CASH MASTER.
by Skorpio

Part Seven:  Fucking


Bradley McMahon sat on the bedroom floor in the dark
and silence, resting against the old radiator.
Chained to the pipes like an animal, he wondered for a
brief moment what would happen if there was a fire.

No one would miss him, Brad realized: not his family
and he had no friends.  In fact, the only person in
the world who actually benefited from Brad's existence
was Reese, the handsome, muscular thug he picked up in
the park on Thursday night who was out spending Brad's
money.

A chastity belt confined Brad's penis and testicles,
leaving his soft, fleshy buttocks bare upon the hard
wood floor.  His mouth was once more gagged with a
white cotton sock and his hands were bound behind his
back by steel cuffs.  Brad was a prisoner in his own
home.

His ribs ached from the swift, brief beating he
received before Reese stepped out.  Having been awake
for almost a day and a half, Brad was mentally and
emotionally shattered.  In his head Brad heard himself
reciting the mantra he was given by his Black God:  "I
am a little white worm, I am a little white worm...."

Even as he fell asleep in an awkward position, his
lips continued to mumble, "I am a little white worm..."


Brad sank quickly into the blissful oblivion of sleep,
but was soon visited by erotic dreams of his Black God
standing over him, tantalizing Brad with his beautiful
ebony cock.  In the dream, Brad was begging Reese to
suck him off, but the thug refused to grant that
privilege.

"You ain't good enough to suck my dick," said Reese in
the dream.  "But you can watch me jack off."

The sound of music and loud voices from the living
room woke Brad with a start.  He heard two voices.
One was deep and masculine, obviously Reese, but the
other voice was that of a woman, shrill and harsh.  It
was hard to follow every word over the radio, but the
gist of their exchange had to do with money.

Then, the radio was turned down a notch and Brad heard
Reese say, "Like I told you, cash ain't no problem,
baby.  Why don't you wash up and then we can handle
our business, aiight?"

Overhearing this, it was clear that Reese had picked
up a prostitute to fuck.  Brad felt a twinge of
jealousy.  Why couldn't he fuck me, he wished.  That
was an unusual thing for Brad to desire, since he had
always been more of a cocksucker than a pussyboi.

Brad had long lost count of the cocks he had sucked
over the years, cocks of every color although Black
cocks were generally bigger and tastier.  He could
count on one hand the number of times he had been
penetrated in the ass.  Brad never relished getting
fucked.

He much preferred the flavor and energy of a cock in
his mouth.  He loved the taste of semen, especially a
Black man's cum: there was just something different
about it, like a sauce with a secret ingredient.

Yet at this moment, knowing Reese was about fuck a
real pussy, Brad wanted to offer his tight hole.  He
knew Reese was straight, yet still Brad yearned
passionately to be everything for the handsome,
muscular thug.  Why am I not enough, he fretted.

It may be that there is an Omniscient African God who
grants the prayers of white slaves, because Brad's
deeply troubled musings were suddenly interrupted by
the unforeseen.

Seeking the bathroom, the prostitute opened the
bedroom door instead and walked in on Brad.  A beam of
light fell on him.  There he sat, pretty much naked,
chained to the radiator.

The black girl gaped in shock. She was light skinned
with a round but pretty face and wore a tousled black
wig streaked with gold.  Her pink blouse was
unbuttoned with one brown melon-sized titty hanging
out.  She wore a little black skirt with thick thighs
and tiny feet in gold sandals.

All Brad could do was gaze back in abject
helplessness.  He didn't even attempt to murmur
through the gag.  The whore stepped back and shut the
bedroom door.

The next thing Brad heard was an incoherent outburst
and Reese shouting back.  This went on for several
minutes.  Brad could make out some of it.

"Told you I don't do no freaky shit!"

"It ain't like that, baby!  Hear me out!"

"Don't say shit!  I seen what I seen!"

"Nah, that ain't how it is.  That's just a fag.  He
does what I tell him to.  He don't got nothin' to do
wit' us!"

"Look, I don't care about your and your lil faggot,
that between y'all.  I'm outta here, bruh!"

"Hold up, hold up!"

"Listen, I don't got nothin' against you, baby, but
this scene is not for me, ok?  You a phyne ass nigga,
ok, and your moneys good, ok, but next time you on the
street ask for Theresa.  That's who you want."

"Theresa, huh?"

"Yeah, she's a whitegirl but she likes the kinky shit.
 That's who you want.  Good luck, brotha.'

The outer door to the apartment slammed shut.  The
radio clicked off.  There was dead silence for almost
twenty minutes like the lull before a storm. Brad
trembled.

Then the bedroom door flew open.  Reese stood there,
his handsome features twisted with rage.  His panther
eyes were glazed.

"You fucked this shit up, whiteboy!" he snarled.
"So you gonna have to fix it, heh-heh.  Looks like
this is gonna be yo' lucky night!"

 Reese unlocked the chain from the radiator and shoved
the whiteboy to the floor.  Brad floundered, still
gagged with the white sweat sock and hands cuffed
behind his back.

Brad couldn't see what Reese was doing above and
behind him, but he heard Reese's zipper come down and
felt the thug's strong hands grip his buttocks,
spreading them open.

Reese gobbed spit on Brad's exposed hole, then lubed
his long, thick Black cock with some Vaseline from the
nightstand.  Reese wanted to fuck this bitch dry if
only to hurt the faggot, but decided what he wanted
more was to bust a nut.

Reese hadn't planned on fucking the whiteboy.  He
wasn't sure he was even going to let the whiteboy give
him head again.  But right now, he needed to drop a
load and this whiteboy had booty like a bitch.  Brad's
cheeks were soft and round like two white muffins.

The pain of penetration was intense, but Brad's
screams were throttled by the gag as Reese's thick
pipe pierced his sphincter and drove up into his guts,
ten hot inches of Black meat, thrusting over and over,
pounding like a piston.

It happened so suddenly.  Reese had Brad's ass cheeks
hiked up.  Again and again he drove his iron dick into
the whiteboy's soft, wet pussy.

"Oh yahhh, take this dick, whiteboy!" Reese growled.
He owned that ass!  "Ahh, dayum, yah, you feel it
don't you, bitch!  Take this dick all the way! Take
it!"

Brad was helpless, cuffed and gagged.  All he could do
was yield to the relentless pounding of Reese's long,
thick, throbbing, ebony cock between his cheeks and
reaching deep inside his guts.

Eventually the pain subsided as Brad began to
experience an exquisite sensation.

"Aww shitttt, yahhh, take it balls deep, bitch!  The
pussy's sweet!  Show me how you like this dick, baby.
C'mon, now, give it up.  Yah, that's right!  Work that
ass for me!"

Reese spread Brad's white cheeks apart with his large
brown hands and watched his thick cock stuff the
cracker's tight asshole, stretching it wide and
filling it deep.

"Mmmm, yahhh, unnhhh, ohhh, yahh, mmmm" Reese grunted.

The whiteboy's warm hole felt snug and wet like a real
pussy cunt.  Reese squeezed closed his panther eyes
and pictured himself fucking a white girl in her ass
as he thrust his cock again and again, slowly then
rapidly then slowly.

"Yah, bitch, you got a real sweet hole.  Mmm, yahh,
squeeze them cheeks.  Like that, yahhh!  I can tell
you want this dick, bitch!  Nod yo' head if you want
me to fuck you harder!"

Brad nodded.  From behind as Reese drilled the
whiteboy doggy style, the thug wrapped his powerful
right arm around Brad's throat, slowly increasing the
fury of his pelvic thrusts.

The pain of penetration was gone and now Brad craved
being fucked!  He loved this big-dicked, straight thug
fucking him in the ass.  It felt so good.  He felt
conquered.

"Come on, baby," panted Reese heavily, his heavy chest
rising and falling with each deep breath.  "I'm gonna
bust this nutt, bitch!  Take it, baby!  Aww shittt
yahhh.... Yahhh.....!!!"

A curse ripped through Reese as he rode his huge
weapon deep inside the punk's pink cunt.  He felt the
molten white venom shoot out of him, enough for a
hundred babies.  Again and again his hot sperm filled
the whiteboy's hole.

Reese's cock experienced an intense vibration of
pleasure as he ejaculated over and over, one volcanic
spurt after another.

This felt good as hell, as sweet as busting a nutt in
any whore.  More than the sheer sensual pleasure was
the satisfaction of fucking a white guy in the ass!

Reese left Brad sprawled face down on the bedroom
floor like a discarded puppet.  The whiteboy's swollen
hole gaped like a tunnel.

"Stay right there until I tell you to move."

Brad remained exactly as he was although his
stretched, moist rectum twitched and his little white
penis strained against the constrictions of his
chastity belt.  He felt so fulfilled, so content, with
Reese's seed inside him.

Meanwhile, Reese settled in the living room and turned
on the TV.  He lit up a joint, needing time to think.
Despite having a white fag at his disposal, Reese
longed for real pussy, but he had to admit it was
sweet waxing the whiteboy's ass.

Reese toked the joint.  His ample lips formed a smile
as he considered his recent purchases at the
whiteboy's expense and the way the bitch obeyed and
worshipped him.  Despite tonight's mishap, Reese
decided this arrangement was going to work out.  It
was good owning a slave, especially an obedient
cracker!

Before long, Reese was sprawled across the sofa,
snoring lightly.  Brad remained gagged and handcuffed
in the bedroom, free to move about if he dared.  At
one point he actually got up and looked upon his
captor.

Reese was naked, stretched out on the couch, but
looking far from vulnerable.  His muscles were so
magnificent and his features were so handsome that all
Brad could do was look upon Reese in impotent envy.

It was almost agonizing seeing Reese's formidable
cock, large but flaccid, recalling how it drilled his
hole, striking deep inside him.

This was Brad's chance if he wanted to get away.  All
he had to do was make it to the door without waking
his captor....open the door somehow with his hands tied
behind his back, race down a flight of stairs and... .do
what?

What could he accomplish by appearing in the street in
his leather collar and chastity belt?

Brad remembered the Jeffrey Dahmer story, how one of
Dahmer's victims escaped only to have cops restore him
to that sadist's clutches, presuming nothing more than
queers having a lover's quarrel.

So, Brad did nothing.  That was his decision. He
returned to the bedroom floor, horny as hell, and like
a good slave resumed his submissive, face-down
position, still gagged and handcuffed.  His pussy
ached for more.

Soon, he fell sound asleep with no idea what was in
store.



TO BE CONTINUED. . .

IN PART EIGHT: PUNISHMENT