by Lady Keisha
No, she thought harshly at herself. I’m too proud. I can’t let a man own me. But what about what Gillipsy said about giving myself to a foreign man? Why is he any different?
Maybe it was the whole idea of submitting to a rich man. She had no problem surrendering to an equal; letting a player feel in charge. But a powerful man, a man on top of the world who could make or break an entire city…it felt like a betrayal.
She even started to write a letter. To tell him it was over, that he deserved better and she deserved better. Maybe he even helped her to realize that mail order briding herself to some unworthy man wasn’t the way. Yeah that sounded right…
But she never wrote that letter.
In fact, she tossed and turned in her apartment all night thinking about him, and telling herself not to stroke thinking of his face. It felt wrong. It felt like betrayal…it felt like…
Suddenly there was a knock on the front door. She opened it without thinking twice, having a good intuition of what she would see. There stood Carl, lust in his eyes and without the faintest smidge of apology. Like a wolf picking up a scent, he just chased after her and leered at her blue nightgown. Without a word, he pushed her inside her apartment, not quite sure what was going to happen except that he needed to quench his desire.
She eyed him in hesitation but dared not turn him away. She felt his aggression and purred inside, letting him in and stepping back. He closed the door behind them. Then he walked boldly ahead, pushing her into the nearest wall so he could get a firm grip on her frame.
She embraced him and they kissed, his lips sucking in hers and moistening up, draining the oxygen between them. He pinned her against the wall but still couldn’t get close enough; he pushed his hard erection into her pelvis, the thin layer of pants barely concealing what he had. He grabbed both of her hands and backed them into the wall, still shoving his covered prick into her midsection, mad with passion and struggling to have sex like a gentleman.
Finally, he dropped his hands and hers, enough to tear open her gown, which seemed to glow in the night sky’s moonlight. He reached down and kissed her chest, letting his warm lips caress her skin, as he moved downward. He pulled her breast out from her bra and kissed her nipple, leaning lower to the ground and then to his knees.
She hummed as he kissed her sumptuous breasts and then traced a path from her chest down to her tummy. She sighed so deeply she almost hissed, and grabbed his thick head of hair as he teasingly kissed her pelvis.
“Wait…wait…” she whispered, as she wrestled with his lips, still so eager to taste her fruit. “Let’s go to the bedroom.”
“I want you now,” he said forcefully, as he pulled down her panty and set his lips upon her neat patch of pubic hair.
She sighed deeply, and threw her arms back to the wall, hoping to maintain balance, even while Carl ravaged her like madness. He spread her legs apart and found her clit, carefully licking it to the side.
She inhaled deeply and took her finger to her mouth, biting down as his tongue continued setting fire to her senses. She grabbed his head and pushed him in deeper, giving him more of what he wanted, shoving more wet pussy into his face.
Her clit throbbed and became thicker, all the more taste to enjoy. He licked faster and used his hands to caress her breast and reach around to feel her glorious ass.
She finally broke away from his worshiping tongue and eyed him in hunger. She walked backwards, leading the fucking dog to his treat. She entered her bedroom and fell on the bed. But she knew what he really wanted. She turned over on her tummy and smiled, licking her fingers and humming.
Carl ripped what was left of the gown off and grabbed her juicy ass, squeezing and kissing it with angry little kisses and gentle bites. He kissed every last inch of her tight buttcheeks and then let his loose lips travel to her tail bone up to the small of the back.
He smacked her ass hard, and she yowled, a good hot boil of a scream, like the White boy loved to hear. Her every cry and moan was so musical, bubbling over with rhythm and the taste of her pussy was divine. He shoved his face into her ass and licked her pussy up and down until his face was wet, and his nose was grazing her beautiful asshole.
She moaned hard as she grabbed the sheets and rocked the bed, shifting back and giving him more ass to munch on. His cock was throbbing. He pulled down his pants and stroked himself until he was fully erect, so hard that it hurt. He pushed himself inside her wet pussy and didn’t stop pushing forward until he watched himself disappear into those firm lips.
His cock was thick and long, filling her up and pushing against her skin folds, softly vibrating against her pink flesh. He moved his cock inside and out, steeping himself in her wetness and then feeling the cold air of the night, before plunging back in, loving the sound of her steady chanting.
She arched her back while he fucked her, prompting him to grab her hair and hold right, increasing the speed of his pussy pounding.
“Ohhh!” she screamed. “Mmmm Mister Gillispy,” she said with a naughty smile. It felt hot to call him by his full name. Treat him like a rich husband who just bought her wifehood for life. He fucked her like he owned her, like his billion dollar cock was the only thing saving her from a life of hardship.
“Unngh!” he grunted and she screamed back, feeling the same emotion, the same submission he wanted from her.
But of course he wasn’t going to say it. That’s not classy, he figured. But maybe…maybe she should say it.
“You tell me how you like it, bitch,” he said, surprised at how much tension he let go, calling her names and fucking her twice as hard.
“Ohhh God yes!” she screamed back. “Fuck me like you mean it!”
“Huh? You like that big cock, sista?” he asked, feeling more tension rise and his sweat increasing. His cock was getting so hard his whole body tingled. “Tell me how you want it.”
“MMmm! Uh huh, uh huh!” she cried, as he slapped his balls against her lap, giving her all ten inches of his hard dick in rapid succession. “Ohh yeah gimme your fucking white cock, White boy! Feed it to me deep…”
He groaned, not just from her tight pussy clench but from her throaty voice, choking on her own spit and ready to give him the screaming orgasm he wanted to hear. He shoved her down flat on the bed and stroked his wet cock hard. He turned her over on her back and made her watch his rapid stroking.
“Spread your legs, woman.”
“Oh? You going to try something White boy?”
He tossed her legs down and spread them, getting a good full shot of that beautiful black pussy. He entered her missionary style and made sure his cock went in deep—so deep he could feel the ridges, the deepest parts of her sensitive walls.
She panted and groaned, reaching over and squeezing his slippery ass, wanting him even deeper inside.
“Fuck it, White boy!” she said, gasping loudly as she rubbed his face and sweaty forehead against her tits. He sucked on her nipples, one right after the other, while he plugged her hole, licking like chocolate nipples with a virgin’s enthusiasm.
He felt his cock stiffening and starting to spasm. Seeing his crush quaking with passion and her jiggling tits, was wearing out his stamina. He grabbed her by the hair and pushed himself in at a slower stroke.
But she was demanding, always was, and before long told him to fuck her harder and faster—even if that meant cumming like a water spout.
“Aaahhh!” he bellowed so thick and buried inside of her, he couldn’t even withdraw all the way if he tried. He obeyed her panting orders and drove his cock deep and hard inside, fucking her as fast as his balls could slap her.
“We should stop,” she finally said with a little hesitance.
“Why?”
“I’m not on anything…”
“Oh?”
“Yeah,” she moaned, still clutching his butt and pulling him tighter and closer.
“Nothing?”
“No.”
“I better pull out huh?”
> “Uh huh…” she said half-heartedly. Desiring nothing but to feel him finish.
“Or else I’ll give you a half-White baby, huh? Is that what you want?”
“Aaahh…” she said giving away her secret fetish. A White man fucking her and getting her pregnant—that was the taboo she needed to get off.
“Is that what you want?” he said dominantly. “Filling you with my seed? Going to cum all that white sperm inside you?”
“Oh, yes!” she said, tremoring in the bed. “Yes! Make me pregnant…make me pregnant. Gimme a belly…gimme your White cummm…”
“Ohhh here it comes…” he moaned, but not before Tonya reached under and put her fingers straight into his asshole.
“Ohhh damn! What the fu—?”
Before he could even finish, he was already spurting out a stream of cum, unloading a whole goddamn cup’s worth of sperm deep into her fertile pussy lips.
“Ohhh I’m cumming…” he said, keeping his eyes open and staring into hers, his body shaking with each new cumshot he delivered.
“Ohh yeah make me cum!” she yelled, creaming his cock with an orgasm of her own and biting his hairy chest with all that she had left.
“Holy shit,” he said, still dripping sperm everywhere inside and out, as he withdrew and collapsed on the bed.
She huffed and puffed too, literally feeling his semen soak her insides, as getting pregnant had a sound or a distinct buzzing sound. She knew at that moment she was going to have his baby. A beautiful mixed race baby. His baby.
Yeah it was partly about his wealth, his protective hand. But it was also more than that. Gillispy really was somebody different. A good man and an honest man. And a helluva good fuck.
They sat in the afterglow for long lazy moments, soaking in each other’s skin. And during those intimate moments of mine, Tonya just had to know.
“Be honest now. Why do you like the sisters, G?”
He laughed, taking another peek at her wonderful naked chest and smiling expression.
“Do I need a reason?”
“I said be honest. It all starts somewhere.”
“Maybe. I do remember one time…” he said, nodding and holding his head. “A long time ago, at one my dad’s business meetings. I was just a preteen, had no good idea what anything was, certainly no idea what was happening in the world. All I really knew was that Karla was the prettiest woman I had ever seen. She was Black. She always wore pretty dresses. She always had the softest cutest and most enthusiastic voice. I used to see her in church every Sunday and would love it when she came over to talk to me.”
“Karla, huh?”
“Yeah. Then one day, my asshole of an uncle told me that Karla was gone. Told me to forget that I ever saw her. I dared to ask why. The man looked me in the eye and told me she was a no good whore. They found out she was an escort. They arrested her for some shit, some ludicrous reason. Just because they could. No…”
He shook his head in disdain. “Just because she was caught with a White man. That’s probably what it was,” he said with a nod. “My family tried to tell me something was wrong with Karla. For years they tried to scare me, telling her what a whore and slut she was. They preached righteously about how segregation was wrong, but they felt no need to protect Karla, just because she was an escort. Fucking hypocrites. But even back then…even as a kid I knew. I knew what she was, despite what they tried to tell me. She was just a real nice lady. A beautiful lady. And she was always nice to me. She was nice to everybody that had the decency to speak to her like a human being and not judge her.”
“I see.”
“To me it didn’t matter if she did it because she had to or just wanted to. It was just Karla and that was her choice. Little did my Uncle know that he did teach me a very important lesson. That everybody matters. Nobody deserves to be treated like a second class citizen. I learned a long time ago it’s what you’ve done in the past that counts. What matters is the good person you are now. How you treat people. We all struggle. We all need each other to help us when we fall down.”
“I know you need help, Mister Gillispy,” she said with a tease. “Your kind always does. You have a big heart…but don’t have anyone that understands you.”
He smiled. “All I know is, that for the first time since that day when I last saw Karla, I have truly beheld someone beautiful. You’re beautiful, Tonya. You’re tough as nails. You don’t let people talk down to you. And you work hard for all you get, even if you got to do the jobs you don’t like. Maybe like a lot of people, you just need a second chance. Someone who believes in you.”
She stared at him in wonder and with a nervous smile.
“Will you become my mail order bride?”
She smiled, teethy and beautiful, her heart on her sleeve and basking in the glow of love. “Yes, Carl. I will.”
They kissed one last time; it was a grand feeling of true intimacy, empathy and redemption for the man who had everything but needed a soul. In Tonya, he found his greatest opportunity.
THE END
Stolen by a Highlander
Chapter One
“Fetch me my ale!” Angus hollered, slamming his thick fist on the solid wooden table. Freya scurried into the kitchen to fetch her husband’s tankard, her long red hair flowing behind her. “Idiot woman!” Angus’s voice followed her.
“I’m sorry, husband, I did not expect you to return quite so soon.” She looked down at the ground as she answered him timidly. Angus lifted his eyes up to her and a scarlet rage spread in to his cheeks.
“Whoring yerself to the village, eh?” As he spoke spittle collected in his beard. Freya looked down to the hard stone ground, not daring to look up, and shook her head.
“No, husband.”
“Dare you argue with the man of this house?!” Freya shook her head again, silently. “Fetch me my meal before I flog you, woman!” Freya nodded quickly and hurried back to the kitchen.
Life in the small stone hut was little to write home about for Freya. At fourteen, the beautiful porcelain skinned redhead had been married off to Angus for a minimal dowry, something that Angus would forever resent. In the end however, the choice to marry Freya had been his own. He found her long red hair and her soft complexion irresistible. He had been more than happy at the time to accept her parent’s minimal pittance to secure the child bride.
Then, six years into their marriage, when Freya’s face had begun to show the signs of being a browbeaten blacksmith’s wife, Angus had become increasingly dissatisfied. He longed for the pearlescent skin of her earlier years and he loudly protested her parents’ frugal dowry whenever he got the chance.
Over the years Angus had made sure that his own dissatisfaction with his young bride became that of his village as well. As a well-respected blacksmith there was little that Freya could do to fight the rumors that Angus frequently began in his drunken ramblings. Freya could not walk through the street without hearing whispers of her own infidelity.
The truth was, however, that it was Angus who was the infidel. Freya could hardly understand how anyone would think that she would dare dishonor a man like Angus. If only they could see the sheer power of his anger, she thought, perhaps they would understand. Instead the village chose to turn a blind eye to the drunken blacksmith. Nothing was said when he ripped the corsets of young serving wenches at the tavern. Rather, laughter would ensue.
For Freya though, there was nothing as devastating as watching her husband publicly humiliate her with his drunken debauchery. Many a night she would weep in their bed as she heard Angus return from the tavern with another young woman in tow. She would listen as he took her over their kitchen table and the very next morning she would be forced to serve breakfast to them both on that very same table.
“Here you are, husband.” Freya lay the plate of mutton and bread on the table in front of him and waited with bated breath as he examined the plate.
“Ernn,” Angus grunted in satisfaction and picking up his spoon and
a chunk of bread, he began shoveling food sloppily into his mouth. Freya smiled, happy to see her husband contented and relieved to be out of the spotlight.
Fetching her own smaller plate, Freya sat across from Angus at the table and delicately spooned a piece of mutton into her mouth.
“You eat too much!” Angus grunted, small chunks of food flying from his mouth. Freya nodded and pushed her plate away from her despite the hollowness in her belly. “Give me that!” Angus grabbed for her plate and pulled it towards him, scraping its contents onto his own. “You think I work so that you can waste food?”
Freya shook her head. “Forgive me husband.”
Her eyes cast down to the cold stone floor as she listened to Angus greedily eating her supper as well.
Freya’s life before Angus had been simple. Her diet had consisted of vegetables and bread. Meat was rarely affordable for her overburdened family. As one of nine daughters, Freya was always destined to be married off to anyone who would take her, in order to lighten the load at home. She had always imagined that it would be a handsome man who chose her though, a man with love in his heart and a gentleness about him. Every day as she tended her family’s small tract of land, she would fantasize about her husband-to-be whisking her off to a romantic castle in the hills. She would titter with her sisters as they shared stories of the qualities that they hoped their husbands would share.
Then had come Angus. He was a well-paid man, the only blacksmith in the village, and Freya’s parents were happy to marry her to him. Freya had been hesitant. He certainly didn’t resemble the husband she had imagined. Angus was six feet tall. His red beard was bushy and matched the color of his long, curled hair. Freya’s father was eager that they should marry however, and one week after their meeting it was done. Freya had secured herself a future with a well-paid man and her family was happy to let her go.
“You will come with me to the tavern!” Angus pushed his plate across the table, the oily juice of the mutton sloshing over its sides.