The Sweet Wife, Book II: Maureen's Choice

Chapter One-1

Chapter One

The morning after she’d serviced seven of Travis’s friends, before putting her in a cab, Travis handed Maureen a small box. She was surprised to see the cab was not Robert. Travis told her to go home and sleep all day. He would phone her at six. She wasn’t to open the box until he phoned.

Maureen was so exhausted she simply nodded. The men had done everything she’d imagined they might and more. Each of her orifices had been taken over and over. She had swallowed their c*m and taken it in her p***y and in her anus. She had danced naked for them, crawled to them on all fours, kneeled for what seemed like hours before them as one after another had f****d her mouth. She had tongue kissed them. She had bent down to press her parted lips to their feet. They had, as she knew they would, verbally humiliated and physically abused her.

Each of the seven men had taken her twice and two of them had taken her three times. She’d lost count of the numbers of orgasms she’d had. It seemed they were constant, one blending into the other. The intensity was greater than she had ever known. Over and over each orgasm rose toward another explosive climax that shook her body. She could not have dreamed of the undiminished lust she felt. It had begun in the dining room of the restaurant and grew in intensity when Travis led her, blindfolded, into the room where the seven black men were waiting for her.

Now, as she stepped into the cab, the flow of secretions moistened her p***y again. Her anal opening was painful. Even though she’d widened it for Travis, his huge thick c**k had torn her. But she’d been surprised at how much pleasure had accompanied the pain. The sensation of a hard c**k pushing far into that most private of places brought her to a state of arousal that was different from any she’d ever known. Toward the end of the long night she was begging them to take her there. She remembered herself saying, “Please, please f**k my ass. I want to feel your black c***s in my white ass!” My God, she thought, how could I have said that? How could I have done those things?

Neither Brian nor the children were at home. He’d gone to work and they were in school. Brian had left a note saying his sister would pick up Sara and Billy from school, and he would bring them home at six thirty. Maureen undressed, showered, and fell into bed. The ringing of the phone awoke her at six. Still half asleep, she had to force herself to reach across the bed to answer it.

“You did good last night, babe,” Travis said.

His compliment and the sound of his voice brought her fully awake. She felt a rush of warmth spread across her skin. “Thank you, honey. Thank you for last night. It was beyond anything I have felt before.”

“You sore?”

“I was but everything seems okay now.”

“Assignment?”

“You forgettin, baby, you belong to me. You is Travis’s white whore.”

“But….but I thought after last night….”

“Ain’t nobody payin you to think. You got to get out of the fuckin habit of thinkin.”

Maureen’s stomach sank and her mouth went dry. “You mean tonight I must…”

He interrupted, “Yeah, tonight. Now, open the box I give you.” It was on the dresser. Maureen lifted the lid. Inside were a silver necklace and a matching ankle bracelet. On the necklace was a shiny black pendant in the form of four letters. The same letters circled half of the ankle bracelet. “You got it?” Travis asked.

“Yes, honey.”

“What do the letters say?”

“WWFB.”

“What you think they mean?”

“Honestly, Travis, I don’t know.”

“Well, just about every black man in the country knows and most black women, too. Lot’s of whites know.”

Maureen tried to guess but gave up. “I’m sorry, Travis, but…”

“I’ll tell you. They mean WHITE WOMAN FOR BLACKS. When you wear that necklace and ankle bracelet the black man knows you is his. He knows he can touch you, kiss you, f**k you, tell you to get on your knees and suck him off. He knows you’re hot for black c**k, and even if you ain’t in the mood you’ll get on your knees and do him anyway.”

Travis’ words shamed and frightened her. The necklace and bracelet would be a clear message to all the black men who might see her in public. She was theirs. She would see it in their eyes and in their sly grins. They would speak to her in ways they never would have before. In public places they would feel free to touch her, fondle her, kiss her knowing she wouldn’t resist, knowing she would do what they told her to do. “Oh, Travis, I don’t…I really don’t….” She paused and took a deep breath, “Travis, please honey. I’m your woman and I’ll do what you say, but to…to…wear the necklace, to let everyone who sees me know, to…to… make it so obvious…to advertise. Travis it’s cheap and…and I’ll be afraid.”

“You think I give a s**t about that?” His voice was even and hard. “You put them things on and you don’t take them off unless I say so. And when anyone asks what them letters mean, I want you to tell them, no matter who: black men, white men, women, don’t matter who. You fuckin got that?”

It was almost a minute before she could answer, “Yes, Travis.”

“They was the Captain’s idea, a present for you cause you brought him your sister.”

Maureen had forgotten about Eileen. “Is she all right, Travis? Where is she?”

“She’s fine. The Captain’s taken a liking to her. You can bet she ain’t a virgin no more. I expect she ain’t complainin. Nothin you can do about it anyway.”

Maureen nodded sadly, “That’s true. There’s nothing I can do now.”

Travis continued, “Tonight someone’s comin to pick you up at eight o’clock.”

Maureen couldn’t believe what he’d just said. “Oh, no! Here at my house? Travis, I can’t. That’s impossible. I’ll meet him somewhere else. I mean I can’t have a strange black man coming to my house…”

He cut her off, “Your husband and kids be there?”

“At eight o’clock? Yes, of course. They should be home soon. That’s why I don’t want….”

Angrily he interrupted, “Well, listen up and don’t you to give me no s**t. I want you to introduce the guy to your husband. Make sure he sees him, you know. And make sure he knows why he’s there.” Maureen started to object again. Travis yelled, “Do what the f**k you’re told! These is orders direct from Dex.” He waited a moment, then went on, “You let your husband see that you got the hots for the black dude. You need to say things and do things so he gets the message.”

“Do things?” she questioned, her voice shaking.

“Yeah, are you fuckin dumb or what? Call him honey, put your arm around him, let him kiss you if he wants to.”

“Oh, please Travis, my God!”

“What the f**k have I been sayin? You do what you’re told. A report will come back to the Captain and me.” He waited for her to respond. When she said nothing, he went on, “You wear the same stuff you had on last night. There’s no c*m on your dress, right? They just c*m inside you and on your t**s and face. Right?”

“Yes, Travis. The dress is clean.”

“Tonight you’re goin dancin, but you’re not havin more than one drink. We want you to be sober when you get back. Your date’s bringin you home. Your husband’s goin be sleeping on the couch tonight because you and your new black lover gonna be usin the bed. Your date knows that you belong to him for the whole night. Fuckin, suckin, whatever he wants. You make him breakfast and do him again in the morning. Got that?”

“But Travis, honey, can’t we just go somewhere, a motel maybe? I mean with the kids here at home, I don’t…”

He cut her off, “You’ll figure it out. Just do what I say.”

Maureen felt the tears run down her cheeks. “Yes, Travis,” she said.

“Eight o’clock. Be ready and be lookin hot. Don’t forget the necklace and the bracelet.”

“I won’t forget, Travis.” It occurred to her that two weeks ago she would have called a cop if Travis had looked at her wrong. Two weeks ago she wouldn’t have let him even speak to her. Two weeks ago she was a wife and a good mother. She lived in a nice neighborhood. The only black men she saw were on the truck that picked up the garbage.

Travis chuckled, “You gonna get f****d again tonight. f****d good. That’s what you want. That’s what you’re thinkin about right now, ain’t it? You want the black man’s c**k? Tell me.”

She knew what he wanted to hear, “Yes, that’s what I was thinking, Travis.”

“You gonna do what I said. Show your wimp husband that you got a black lover and you’re treatin him real good. That’s what we want, you understand?”

“Yes, Travis, I understand. I’ll try.”

She knew he was angry. He didn’t shout but his voice had an edge to it. “You better do more than fuckin try,” he said. “You either say that you’re gonna do what I’m tellin you to do or don’t say nothin. I’m givin you five minutes to think about it. You don’t want no black man tonight, fine. You don’t want to wear them things, throw them away. You don’t want to be my woman, that’s fuckin okay. I don’t need you Mrs. O’Donnel and I ain’t so sure I even want you.” He paused but before she could speak, he began again. “Five minutes,” he said, “you call me back in five minutes sayin you’re gonna actually do exactly what I tell you. Not fuckin try, but do it! If you don’t call, that ends it. You is either a white woman for blacks or a wife and mother. Can’t be fuckin both. Five minutes,” he repeated, then hung up.

My God, she thought, it’s a miracle. He’s given me a way out. She dropped the necklace and bracelet into the wastebasket beneath her makeup table. She was free! Free of Travis, and the Captain, and Silvia, and Robert! Free of the hated name “white woman for blacks”! Free to be a normal wife and mother. Free to make a home for her family. Free to hug Sara and Billy and tuck them into bed at night and tell them a story. She sat on the bed staring at the clock. She watched four minutes go by. It was as if some force outside herself caused her to reach for the phone. She punched in Travis’s number.

“Yeah?” he said.

“I will. I’ll do what you want.”

“Now how did I know that’s what you was gonna say?” He chuckled. “Make sure your sissy husband gets the message.”

She swallowed hard and felt the tears well up in her eyes, “I’ll make sure he gets the message,” she said. She hesitated, then tentatively spoke his name, “Travis…”

“Yeah, I’m listin.”

She took several deep breaths, “Travis,” she was close to tears, “you didn’t mean what you said about not wanting me? You do want me, Travis honey, please tell me that you do.”

She could sense he was grinning, “You ain’t talkin about that love s**t is you?”

She bit her lip, “Well, maybe not yet, but I thought in time…”

“Forget that. Ain’t never gonna happen. Do I want you? Yeah, I want you to come to me looking good. I want you crawlin to me hopin I’ll let you suck my d**k. I want you with your face on the floor and your bare ass in the air and spreadin your ass cheeks and asking me and the brothers to f**k your white ass. I want you beggin me to f**k your cunt, beggin out loud where folks can hear you. I want you on your knees worshipin my black c**k, kissin it, lickin it, takin it in your mouth, suckin me, swallowin my c*m. That’s how I want you. If that ain’t good enough, say so.”

Tears rolled down her cheeks. “That’s all Travis, that’s all you want me for?” she whispered.

“Yeah, Mrs. O’Donnel, that’s all.”

She couldn’t speak. When he didn’t hang up, she said, “Yes, Travis, it’s good enough.” She heard the click as he hung up the phone.

An hour later when she came out of the shower, she heard Brian and the children downstairs. The television was on. Brian was making dinner in the kitchen. She could smell hamburgers frying and hear the children laughing. For a moment everything seemed normal. For a moment it seemed as if she could pull on a pair of sweat socks and sweat pants and a baggy sweatshirt and run downstairs and roll on the floor with her happy children. Then, she’d help Brian in the kitchen. They’d sit down at the table and the kids would delight them with stories about what happened in school. She stood clutching the bathroom sink, her head bowed. In the bedroom she had laid the black dress out on the bed. The black stilettos were next to it. On the make up table was the necklace she’d retrieved from the wastebasket. It was too late to go back. She had a chance to get out but she didn’t. She was no longer a suburban wife and mother. She was a “white woman for blacks.”