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A Cell Phone Made Me Pregnant- Chapter 2
A Cell Phone Made Me Pregnant- Ch. 2
An Interracial Saga by the Consortium of CurtB, Julie Van, and Satinlvr_mwf
Our story thus far:
Our heroine, Mrs. Suzi Recreant, has been ‘discovered’ by the likes of Mr. Oskar Botha, a wealthy entrepreneur and president of Rhino Industries, who is developing a world-wide network of mind-control programming, using different communications platforms. It started with cell phones, and has branched into adult entertainment clubs, apparel, a church, streaming media content, and now, broadcast news. It is this last where Mrs. Recreant is a rising star, with her porn-model looks, barely-appropriate attire, and obvious sex-appear have made the five-foot four inch tall redhead an internet and ratings sensation. So much so that her cell phone has imposed some dastardly influence on her, and her marriage, however she is quite unaware of it all. Her husband, however, is aware of this hot redhead porn actress he sees on TV, and yet is oblivious to her real identity.
For more of the background and history, please read “A Cell Phone Made Me Pregnant Chapter 1”, and any of the “Out of Africa” series found on various platforms.
One last note. The author would like to warn that this saga contains content of a sexual nature, involving interracial sex, infidelity, mind-control, and other seemingly controversial topics. It any of these offend you, please move on to genres more to your liking. This author is not interested in the berating and threats from anonymous detractors.
“What do you mean I have to go back? Do you have any idea who is in that place? Thugs and criminals! It’s not the boy scouts!” I was almost yelling at my boss. He was actually a nice guy, and didn’t deserve this pushback, but I had literally just gotten back last night from the trip. I was sore all over, and I really wasn’t sure why, though I was growing afraid I had picked up a yeast infection. I was leaking some thin, whitish fluids from time to time.
The initial trip to the prison had been to document the efforts of a local church to rehabilitate the inmates, and have social contacts made by church members to establish relationships with the inmates when they were released. The visit was just myself, a lady from the church, and a couple of management types. Oh, and my husband. He had been whining about my being inside a prison with so many male inmates, and was worried for my safety. My station agreed to give him a spare camera and call him a cameraman. But we got separated inside, as there was a limit to the number of people allowed in the cell block. After that, my memories get really sketchy until after we left. Which brings me back to the present.
“Sorry Suzi… It seems that the story you sent back in wasn’t what they were looking for at the network. This time you have to dig deeper. Get into the daily life of an inmate. Get inside their head. Find out what makes a man want to risk going to prison for, maybe?” My boss told me calmly and rationally.
I arrived home after my late-evening broadcast, sore, achy, and a bit pissy. My cell-phone had died when I accidentally dropped it on my way to the set, and one of our clumsier stage-hands decided to step on it with his size 9 boot, immediately before I went on air. The crunch was immediately recognizable, and about twelve people turned to see my poor phone cracked and damaged beyond repair. At the first commercial break, my sexy smile fell into a total-warfare frown, and I immediately began to lambaste him, and he got to take my ire and frustrations over my having to go back to the prison, and do more interviews. Truth was, I hated being inside there. All I remembered was how dreary it was when I walked in, and yet how exhausted and sore I felt as I walked out!
I pretty easily dismissed my husband’s welcome home perfunctorily, and began to strip down in our bedroom. I was starting to think of it as my bedroom, as my husband, Zack, rarely went to bed when I did, and awoke after I went to work. I had stopped having sex with him, because he just wasn’t even making any real attempt to be a man anymore! The more I thought about it, the more I realized my husband was acting really strange. It was like he was taking my PMS medicine or something. I spied him the other night, wearing what I first thought was one of my sheer negligees, but when I realized it wasn’t in my color, I had to lift my brows in confusion. I was even more shocked when he stuck his feet into a pair of heels that had to be his, for his feet were like flippers compared to mine, and he snuck out into the front yard. Just where the hell he was going, I had no idea, but given my state of feeling just awful, exhausted and with a desperate need for sleep, I just got my drink of water and went back to bed. I’d deal with him later. Later wasn’t arriving yet, as I was still so furious about having to go back to that creepy place!
“Hey, Zack… Oops, I mean Nikki. You made it, and you look so pretty!” The words made Zack blush despite the butchering of his girl-name, but he giggled in a higher voice all the same. He had remembered to take his cell phone with him, in case the damn thing went off while Suzi was home alone. It was vibrating softly and making a pretty array of colorful displays. He loved his phone, because it not only worked great, but somehow he felt better with it.
“Thanks, Honey! I’m glad you like me!” He giggled to his neighbor, as he twirled, letting the motion flare out his nearly see-through attire widely and expose him below the armpits. His name tonight was Tony, but when it was his turn, his name was Toni. He had it simple. He was wearing a short dress and heels similar to Zack’s, but unlike him, he had my chastity cage on. They used to debate on-end about who would get to be the girl, so they decided to alternate.
Tonight it was Zack’s, so Zack wore the sexy little chiffon and satin negligee` he had seen on TV! He also got to wear lingerie and heels, and had done his makeup and donned a long brown wig. He had started using a depilatory cream as well, and was now pretty much hairless below his neck. It was no real loss, actually. What he had was thin and sparse, but it still showed when he wore stockings. He was growing to hate body-hair!
From a distance Zack could pass as a girl, if the light was dim, and there wasn’t too much light. He was even walking better in his heels, since he was practicing every chance he could get. He was finding being a girl so much more exciting! Since he was starting to get a really good handle on Suzi’s schedule, he knew to within ten-minutes when she was coming or going. This was letting him do more online shopping and buy more sexy outfits, as well as practicing his makeup and hair styles. Besides, with the time home alone, he was able to watch some of my favorite TV channels.
Their TV was great, and had all the latest technology, including ultra-high definition and surround sound. Sometimes he would watch one of the interracial, sex channels, and hear every moan and slap of the stud’s heavy balls as they slapped his girl’s ass. Or chin. Or pussy. It was all depending on what position they were in. Sometimes Zack would look hard and could imagine it was his wife on TV, and having incredible sex with random black men, which he was finding so terribly exciting to watch. He would get dressed up as Nikki, and stand in front of the TV, playing with himself until all three of them climaxed together. It was great fun! It was forming inside him an idea to try and do what the girl was doing, someday.
“You know, Tony… I think one day you will have to take me on a date. I just got my new dress, and it looks really pretty! I can wear it with my black lingerie and my long hair, and be just like a college co-ed!” Zack smiled to him.
That was when Tony grabbed Zack by the neck and mashed his lips to the transvestite, and they moaned as they kissed, making Zack take Tony’s tongue fully into his mouth. Zack tried to kiss him back, but he was so forceful, powerful, and dominant that Zack simply wilted.
“Zack…” I got my husband’s attention in my sweetest voice the next morning. “I have some news for you.” My words ended with my trademark brilliant smile. His eyes immediately narrowed. He knew something was up.
“I’m sorry to do this to you, especially after just getting back, but I have to go back to the penitentiary. It seems the office wants a more in-depth follow-up on life on the inside. Since I was just there, I guess I am still the best person to go.”
“What do you mean, you have to go back?” he exclaimed sharply!
Raising my hands, I just groaned to him. “I know, I know…I don’t really want to go back, either, the place gives me the creeps! Being in there, alone, with so many hardened criminals and thugs is pretty damn scary to me!”
My husband grunted, as he sat at the breakfast table, wearing a short satin robe, and what looked all the world for little sockies I wear with my tennis shoes. His face was reddened, too. Maybe it was because he was suddenly surprised with the bad news? I know the last time; he went with us at my insistence with the station. I really wanted someone to be able to look after me while I was inside. So we posed him as a cameraman to the prison, and they bought into it. Though we did get separated, and I have no idea what happened to him while I was with the church lady and the others.
This time it would be me, and an assigned cameraman from the local affiliate station, I explained as he sat there, a cup of tea in his hand. I really was frustrated at going back, too. My preferred crew got to stay home. Most of them quickly planned vacations in my absence. His hollering brought me back from that thought.
“You are going alone? Just who is going to protect you from those very same thugs and convicts? I mean… they are robbers, gunmen, and even r****ts!”
“Honey… listen… I wasn’t given a choice. This came down from Network, and they say they want more, so I have to give them more. It is called continuity of coverage, and for credibility, I have to be the one doing the reporting. They also said that the prison wasn’t really happy having to make accommodations for you, so you are most definitely staying here. I will have an assigned production team locally, and it should be no more than one day inside, or perhaps two. I’ll only be gone four or five days at most!”
I could see my husband being somewhat mollified, but still unhappy. ‘Well, tough shit…’ I was thinking. Here he was giving me flack, and I was the one actually taking the risks? I had to struggle to contain my composure. He was whining more and more, it seemed. It’s not like I had a choice, did I?
As I packed my bags, I made sure to bring an extra couple of outfits, as I was also told that I had to have my wardrobe approved by the local producer. Something about making sure my ratings were kept above the basis point. As if I would ever let my ratings dip!
Wearing a pink satin blouse, and black satin split-leg pants,I gave my husband a quick kiss goodbye, and made straight for the limo to begin my journey. My heels clicking on the sidewalk as my husband forlornly shut the door behind me.
“Welcome back, Mrs. Recreant… We are pleased to see you return, though we are perplexed as to why.”
I sat on the proffered padded chair in the warden’s office. The portly white man wore an ill-fitting suit, and his demeanor was a bit off-putting, as his tone was very haughty and filled with self-absorption, but I put that due to his having to work with so vile ‘patrons’. I remembered on my last visit that race seemed to be a non-issue. There were plenty of all races to go around, though I did notice relatively few Asian men. It was just a passing thought as my attention was dragged back to the present, and the monotonous drone of the warden.
“As a reminder, you will be seeing men of all types and descriptions. As your network has requested, we are going to pull back our security somewhat. While this will place you at a higher additional risk, you will get to sign a waiver of liability, saying you assume all risks for your health and safety during the interviews. Your network has, of course, already agreed to this.”
His stumpy fingers pushed a few sheets of papers at me. I normally shuffle this sort of thing off to the producer, but as I made my habitual slide, I remembered I had not yet caught up with my production crew. That would be later in the day. With a soft sigh, I signed the paperwork in my feminine, soft, flowing script, a lettering even Miss Manners would have approved of. It was something ingrained in me by my mother.
“Girls simply didn’t have chicken-scratch!” her voice echoed in my mind. Shaking the thought off, I slid the papers back.
“Excellent, now, if you would please stand? This will be your first security inspection. To be fair, you will be undergoing a few of these, but to familiarize you with the process, I will be doing your first one myself.”
I rose to my red heels, the stilettos sinking into the soft padding of the rich carpet as I brushed the folds of my satin dress into place. A brilliant red and orange pattern, it favorably enhanced my auburn hair, and gave me a nice glow to my pale, Irish-heritage skin. I was a bit self-conscious as he moved, actually, he more like waddled, around the excessively large desk to reach me. I took that opportunity to try and make my skirt just a tad longer, if I could, so he would not get a glimpse of the tops of my tan thigh-highs and my garter-belt straps.
The dress was very high-necked, and the man’s collar closed tightly about my neck, with matching cuffs at the long sleeves. All in all, I was pretty well covered, I thought. Far more than my usual work attire, but I had just come directly from the airport. The miniskirt-length hem had gotten me plenty of attention already. I didn’t particularly want, or need, more. Certainly not from this fat slob.
“Please your arms out from your sides and spread your legs.” He said matter of factly. All the while his hands started to feel my body. He was definitely making this thorough, as he started at my full mop of hair, and ran his fingers through to the end, where his fingers then gripped the ends, and yanked my head back from behind.
“You can expect to be like this.” His suddenly sinister voice menaced in my ear, his hot breath making the hairs on the back of my neck stand up. “ If those a****ls get to you before we can, you can expect they will be rough with you, at the very least. At worst? Hope you are on birth control.”
I stood still, pursing my lips as he ‘informed me’ of what I can expect. All the while, his hands never stopped moving, the silky illegal bahis satin print allowing his puffy fingers to explore me. His fingers reached around from behind me and groped my very ample breasts, ending by pinching my nipples, hard, and while he tried to twist them, the satin wouldn’t let him get a good-enough grip. Score one for fashion!
I was taking a series of slow, deep breaths, trying to control myself. I was at once angry, scared, and frustrated. Here I was, a highly-posted news reporter being felt up by some brute of a warden, who was obviously using his position and opportunity to get his jollies off. His hands slid lower, and around me, feeling nearly every contour and curve. Under my breasts, down my abdomen, and over my hips. He was giving me a very thorough, lewd, and rude ‘security check.’
“Turn around and keep your legs spread.” I looked down at him, now on his knees, turning to face him as he licked his lips. I stood before him, as he required, and started to drop my arms. “Keep them up.” He commanded.
It was humiliating, being like this, just he and I in this expanse of an office, while he m*****ed me at his pleasure. I couldn’t see below his waist because of all the flab he carried, but I imagine he was sporting a stiffy. His hinds reached from my waist down to my hips and then to my backside, where his fingers groped me a little more than firmly, confirming by touch I was wearing a thong instead of panties. I had little doubt he was going to find out just how small they were, when he leaned forward and buried his nose into my crotch, inhaling deeply, while his fingers slid under my skirt and started to probe along the crack of my ass.
I groaned loud, in disgust, my head falling back on my shoulders in a display of annoyance and aggravation. Unfortunately, he mistook my utterance as pleasure, and he shook his head back and forth, the shiny satin yielding to him as his nose managed to lift it, burrowing to my crotch under my dress. His breath was hot against my vulva, and the landing strip ruffled softly in his hot exhaling. That was when I felt his fingers slide along under me, and across my exit. I stiffened as he did that, circling my brown hole a few times as his tongue started to lick at my tiny triangular sheer thong. The material was Vee’d, leaving my clit exposed when aroused, something my producers just loved, and had even managed to buy a multitude of pairs, in so many colors that I never had a problem finding the perfect match, or contrast, for my outfit.
His licking went on for what seemed like an hour, but was only enough to coat my thong with his drool. I think he was disappointed when his fingers found my thong so tight against my petals that he couldn’t penetrate them. Still, his fingers began to circle around my pearl, as it was just showing that, despite my resistance, he was arousing me. My breathing had grown even deeper, and I would occasionally suck in air between my teeth. Then he shifted his face, and nibbled on my clit.
“UUUNNHHHH!” my soft voice exclaimed, proving my sexual pleasure, as my hands fell to my sides, my feet climbing to my tiptoes. I was trying to deny him, and at the same time follow orders. I didn’t want to blow this and have to come back yet again. My hands moved to the back of his head, mostly for balance, but as he kept tickling my button, I had to grasp his thin shock of gray hair, and hold on. Every breath I made was now a mewling of pleasure, and my legs started to tremble. That was when both his hands dug into the thin straps of my thong and drew them down over my hips, and to my ankles. He then bumped my crotch with his head and pushed me over, where I fell with aloud thud and oomph to the floor.
I worked on getting my breath back as he worked on getting his pants down, not even bothering with his coat, shirt, or tie. I glanced down and all I saw was his huge, flopping belly as he moved, making me think of Jello Jigglers. With his pants at his knees, he used his hands to grab my thong and to elevate my legs, until they were flat against his flabby chest. I had a momentary desire to laugh. I had the thought that his bra size might be bigger than mine!
That was when I felt him start to poke at my labia. Using one hand, he was trying to use the head of his shaft to open me, so he could slide in. Fate was on my side, as the man just wasn’t big enough to overcome his waistline. I had a sigh of relief, and started to speak.
“Just stop… Stop now, and I won’t report you. This will be just… the price of admission, and we’ll move on.”
“Fat chance, bitch,” He fairly snarled. “I missed out on you last time. Now you’re mine!”
He used his beefy hand to snap my thong over my heels, and then rolled me effortlessly onto my side as my skirt slid to my waist, revealing my matching garter-belt and stockings. He was definitely not lacking in brute strength. He had to be strong, even to move! He then straddled my bottom leg, while stretching my top one up high, until he could crawl in and snug his crotch against mine. That was when I felt his hardness begin to poke harder at me. Crotch to crotch like this, I had no chance. His free hand then made my back arch as he managed to force me open, and the tip of his manhood penetrated me.
His version of making love could be more accurately described as a pig squealing as it was rutting. That was what my ears heard, as he pumped against me, his one arm holding my knee had against him, holding me fast, while his bulk flopped onto me again and again. I could feel him in me, but I wasn’t getting much out of him. He just wasn’t as long as many men. In fact, I think he would even lose a distance contest with my pathetic husband. He also didn’t last very long.
It was over in just a few minutes, maybe three at best. His high-pitched squeaks grew louder until he grunted and drove into me as far as he could. That was the only indication he had climaxed. I couldn’t feel a thing, and couldn’t do anything about it. The very last thing I wanted to do was finish to myself off. Not anywhere with him around. I couldn’t give him the satisfaction.
After several hard gasps for air, he flopped lazily aside, and rolled onto his back. He was sweating profusely, and I had to lie on my back to see him. I lay there, feeling a tickle of his ejaculate leak. He couldn’t possibly have shot deeply into me. I was just starting my safe period on my last visit, but had little worry of his impregnating me now. It had only been eight days, and he was hung like a mouse.
“You may go.” Was all he said between gasps.
I reached for my thong, but he managed to snatch his hand away from my reach.
“I’m keeping these.”
I just rolled my eyes, and rose to my heels, smoothing my dress back into place, and spying a tissue box on his desk. Wiping between my legs, I managed to do a very decent job of clean up, mostly because the mess was small. As I turned to leave, I dropped the tissues on his rotund form.
“Thank you for your time, Warden. I’ll give my husband your regards.” My smile was more for me, than for him. For once, I had finally found a man with a dick smaller than my husband’s.
I gave my best sultry strut as I stepped over him and made my way out, not looking back.
Zack went into the kitchen and pulled the phone off the hook, dialing his neighbor’s phone number.
“Ok, Tony. She’s gone for at least a few days. Wanna come over and play?” He was asking in a conspiratorial whisper over the phone. Left behind as his wife went to re-shoot her news story, he was now gifted with the freedom to work on his primary passion. Becoming a girl, or at least as close as he could get.
His moniker, Nikki, was from his favorite porn starlet, a redhead who looked oddly like his wife, and had similar taste in fashion. Sexy short skirts and dresses, four-inch heels, and a long wig made him look like her, at least in his eyes. To the rest of the world, he may have looked like a small-statured man with no real defining characteristics in his build. This made looking like a girl somewhat possible, though he would need dim light, distance, and alcohol to help others see Zack as more than some strange looking female, or as a guy in drag.
“Nah, I can’t… Too much going on here. How about tomorrow?” Tony answered.
“Sure… Make it around nine, then…” He replied. He was standing there, dressed in short baby blue satin robe, white lingerie and heels. As he stood connected to the wall by the phone, he couldn’t help but dance a little in those heels, and checking out his legs, encased in white thigh-high stockings, the garter belt holding them in place well.
After hanging up, he went to the TV, to turn on his favorite channels, porn. Lately, he’d been taken to switching between sissy-porn, and interracial sex. His very favorites were videos and movies of buxom women who were accosted in public, and had sex with hung black strangers. Or so the titles said. He was sure that they were all paid actors. One actress he especially enjoyed was a stacked redhead, who wore patent-leather ‘fuck-me’ heels and satin outfits. Even just watching her walk across the street and letting the traffic-created wind gusts blow her skirt up was enough to make him start to leak droplets from his four inch dick. Her face was never really revealed, and there were internet chatrooms and websites dedicated to identifying her. But her face was either blurred out, or obscured from view by her full mane of auburn tresses.
The actress was insanely popular, it was turning out, and her most recent release, being bedded hard by a number of ‘inmates’ from the ‘state penitentiary’ looked very realistic. Zack couldn’t help but to start jerking off with his robe over his throbbing manhood as he watched black cock after black cock fill her with virile man-juice, while others held her legs up and wide, and her arms lay at her side, with her dress at her waist and her thong hanging from one heel. All the while he was wishing he could be her, and be subjugated by those powerful black men.
The movie had to have been fantastic, as when it had ended, almost four hours had gone by. He yawned and looked down, somehow unable to remember how he had shot so much of his ejaculate on the carpet. He wasted no time in tottering to the kitchen and get what he needed to clean up the mess before heading to bed.
My fresh smile was a little forced, as I went to meet with the producer and tech crew for the actual shoot. They had a new credential for me, and after exchanging pleasantries, the producer, a smarmy little white pipsqueak with dirty-blonde hair named Gary, looked me over. Shaking his head, he tsk’ed at me.
“Suzi, this just won’t do.”
“What? My outfit?” I was semi-incredulous. I was wearing the same outfit that the warden had just found unable to resist. “It has already been approved by the warden for being inside.”
The last thing I wanted to do was get naked on security cameras in this place. Hundreds of guards would be ogling me within an hour, I was sure.
“Yes. Your outfit. The Network has given direction on what you are to wear, and they are so serious about it that I am to take you shopping if you didn’t bring along the appropriate attire. Think in terms of what you would wear at the studio. That is what they want.”
I rolled my eyes. “Greeeaattt…” I muttered, and looked for a place to change, noting that the crew already had my suitcase. “I need a room to change in.”
“Already arranged. Just go with the guards, and they will get you situated. Be ready for makeup in ten minutes.”
Sighing heavily, I looked to the crewman, who handed my roller to me. With a look to the guard, I nodded and gave him a very nice and polite smile. If something went bad during the interviews, he, or someone just like him was going to come save my ass. I hoped. No use trying to piss him off. “If you please, Sir?”
In the conference room I pulled out my potential outfits. One was simply my travelling outfit. Pink satin blouse, black satin split-leg pants, and pink heels. No way was that going to fly, except on the plane home. In a way, that was good, because the overlaying fabric joined at my hipbone, so there was very little to hide me, and no way to develop any modesty if I sat. On an airplane, at least, I had some sense of decorum. The Mile-High Club was pretty much dead, nowadays.
A black and white skater dress was next. I shook my head. The neckline was too high, with an Oriental collar, and the hem, while cute, wasn’t going to flare nearly as much as my wardrobe on set at the station did. After laying it aside, I pulled out a gold d****d-front top, held up by two bikini strings, and a black satin miniskirt. The skirt was a tad long, actually, hemmed at my knees, and not the length I normally wore. This became my plan ‘B’ outfit.
Last was my white-satin halter dress. It was hemmed at mid- thigh, and had a very high waist. The flare was very wide, and the halter was a very low-dipping d****, that accentuated not only my chest, but also showed a lot of side-boob and even the hint of the curves forming my cleavage. The halter tied in a large white satin bow under my hair, but was actually two button-snaps. I tied the wide white satin sash behind me in a large bow. The tails of the sash hung from the knot just below the hemline.
This one I knew was a winner, my Plan ‘A’. I had worn it before, or tried to, at the station, but the camera guys all had a stroke about me wearing white on set, because of a conflict with the lighting. But in the prison? There weren’t the harsh lights of a TV news set, and the color would help me stand out from any prisoners. I could even wear it with my red stilettos, which were the only matching heels I had for it. Only down-side was I didn’t have panties to wear with it. The warden had decided to keep my only color-coordinated ones, and I had little doubt there were going to be angles focusing on showing some extra leg. Shrugging, I decided to do without.
Pulling up a chair, I changed, peeling off my stockings and pulling on silky-sheer white ones, and a lacy garter-belt. All the while I kept sneaking glances up into the corners of the rooms. Yep. Security cameras in all four corners, and I didn’t have to be told that they were all actively monitored. I slid the new dress down, from my shoulders, and gently tugged and smoothed it in place, aware that since I had zero privacy, I was giving my own porn show as the guards got to watch me nude, save my heels and lingerie. I was going to be some guard’s fist fuck-fantasy tonight, that much was certain. Exiting the room, I pulled my newly-packed suitcase behind me, and made my way to the makeup artist, to get my ‘broadcast’ face on. Smokey eyes, longer lashes, blood-red lipstick that glosses brightly and a reddening blush, and finally ready, I was shown back youwin giriş to my crew, and given my new instructions.
I met the General Population, or ‘Genpop’ as they called it, Chief of Security. He reached out with his open palm, and spoke tersely. “Mrs. Recreant, you should know the following. Per your Network’s request, we are modifying our normal security past this door. Once you are inside, you and your crew will be on your own. Of course, in the event something goes wrong, we will rush in and try and save you, but in those crucial moments, when your need is more dire, you will be… on… your… own.”
I forced a smile and nodded. “Thank you, Chief. I am sure my Network has its reasons for this. But I will not hold you responsible.”
As the Chief went about the final preparations he needed to do, I shot a death-stare at Gary.
“Gary, when this is all over, you are going to die, if I have to choke you myself.” Gone was the nice, soft, normal Suzi voice, and out was a soft, feminine snarl. I sounded more like an angry kitten, and I knew it, but there was no mistaking the look in my eyes. After making damn sure he got the message, I turned, and resumed my ‘happy smile’ face, and made my way into the cell block, where inmates started to whoop, holler, and wolf-whistle. They were loud and raucous, but not nearly as deafening as the sound of the portal being shut behind us. That loud clang left me alone with my one cameraman, an older black man, who I doubted could protect himself from an angry cluster of girl scouts.
“I’m ready for a mic…” I said plainly to him. My irritation was pretty high at present.
The dark-skinned man shook his head gently. “No need. We aren’t allowed to use one, so this will be shotgun mic only. Just don’t let anyone get between you and me, and we’ll be fine.”
I took a deep breath and sighed. A plus, for wearing a mic pack meant hooking the transmitter onto the sash of my dress, but the large bow would have gotten in the way, and I did like how to white satin bow tailed and hung off the hem, like a teasing offering. Of course, not having a mic meant that if I got into trouble, it would be possible no one could hear me scream. So far, my fears were coming true. This was going to be a nightmare story.
With a loud clang, the sally-port door slid shut, and it was finally just me and the cameraman. That and about forty convicted thugs and criminals, all of whom were suddenly looking at me in various lustful gazes. I gave my cameraman a look, and when he nodded, I strutted forth towards the middle of the group, wearing a warm smile, my stilettos making my hips sway in a sultry swing, as the hem of my light satin dress flitted about and trailed behind me.
“Hi, everyone. I’m Mrs. Suzi Recreant, and I’m a news reporter from the Rhino News Network. I’m here to do a story on you, and perhaps you can say something to your friends and family back home!”
There was a general stir, and some of the men began to approach me, stopping not far off. Oddly, there was also a lot of looks at the cameraman, whose red light on his camera told them he was recording everything. Still, it was eerie as they started to surround us. In no time, we were completely surrounded. I looked back at the faces. All of them were hard, eyes fierce, and focused on me as I looked at each one. They were of various races. Black, White, Hispanic and even Asian. One thing they all had in common was tattoos, however. Lots of them.
“Will you get a message back to my wife, if I talk to you?” It was a voice from my rear quarter, and I spun on my heels to see who it was.
The hem of my dress flared widely, but it could not be helped. There was a general murmur of appreciation as it happened. My eyes met the gaze of a young man, younger than I am, by the looks of it. I gave him a genuine smile.
“Certainly… You can say what you want on camera, and I’ll make sure she gets a copy of if.”
He nodded, then broke into a smile and started to speak. “Deal… My name is Dwi-“ and he got cut off.
A loud, booming voice from behind me broke in, and made me spin quickly, the pirouette this time making my skirt very widely, and above my thighs. This time, no one reacted to that. All eyes, including mine, were focused on the source of the booming voice.
“What da’ fuck is this? I go take a shit, and come out to some white bitch in my cell block?”
My blue eyes kept looking up, as my gaze had started at a normal height, and had to keep going. This was easily the biggest man I’d seen in a week! Or maybe even a month. I finally was able to take in his features.
His body was just… imposing. He was easily six-foot six, or maybe taller. He had bulging arms, the muscles obvious, even under his inmate uniform. His face was scrunched, and not at all handsome. A pug nose, a receding chin with an overbite framed by overly thick lips, with bulging eyes, his countenance was never going to be considered fair. He also bore along, heavy scar, from his forehead, down the bridge of his nose, and to his cheek. The scar was wide, and had filled in with a stretched scar-tissue. His teeth were yellowed, and one of his upper fronts was missing. He was bald, and his skin was heavily tattooed. His giant frame was covered in the darkest black skin I had ever seen, and had an oily sheen to it, like he had just taken a bath in baby oil. I stood there, my jaw gaping, as I just absorbed, or maybe endured, his presence, just like everyone else.
In a long couple of seconds, he had managed to insert his dominance of the room, including me. I gulped, and glanced around, as the crowd began to separate between him and me. It must’ve been an interesting sight on camera, like a petite angel in white about to do battle with a dragon twice her size, and reeking of evil. I glanced at the sally port window. Nobody was there. So I did what I usually did. Try and charm my way out of trouble.
“Hi” I began, my smile bright. “I’m Mrs. Suzi Recreant from Rhino Ne-“ and he cut me off.
“I knows who you are bitch, we all do. We get TV fo’ hours a day, an we all watchin’ yer ass.”
Inwardly, I was relieved. Outwardly, I tilted my head momentarily with a soft shrug and then dropped the cheerleader bit.
“Alright. So let me share why I’m here? Unless you have a fly on the wall in my boss’s office, I’m pretty sure you don’t know that.” There, my first attempted parry at his initial thrust.
He looked at me, and I felt his eyes making my dress invisible in a heartbeat. All the while, my own heart was beating heavily. The man was scary as all Hell, and I had no doubt he could snap me in half with his pinky and a spork. The silence was deafening as I waited to see his reaction. Any fears of being ****d were long evaporated. I was more afraid of being dismembered and eaten, and all of it on camera!
“Well, I’ll give ya’ that, Whitebread. Ain’ nobody, throw dat in ma’ face. So yeah. Tell us why the white fuck fantasy is in my cell block?”
“Well…” I began, being careful not to bite my red-painted and glossy lower lip. “My network wants to know what it is like on the inside. The real story. What it’s like to live here, what you go through on a daily basis. In short, we want to show the public what goes on, maybe dispel the rumors about who actually runs a prison, or… maybe not?” I finished with a raised eyebrow. I had just set the baited hook in the water.
He stood there, and his eyes narrowed, suspiciously. The more he contemplated, the more the others moved off. It wasn’t long before it was just he and I, and my cameraman.
“So, Whitebread… What’s in it for me?”
Inwardly I smiled. He was nibbling.
“Well… first, you will have a chance to tell your story. You can say things from your point of view. You can tell the whole world why you don’t belong in here… “
He wasn’t looking very convinced. But then, I had little else to offer him. It wasn’t like I could sneak even a candy bar into this place. As much of a lecherous jerk the warden was, he knew about security, that was plainly obvious. For a fish, he was pretty cagey. So I played my last card.
“That and I’ll make sure you get to send a personal, private message to your family. We’ll record it, and I will personally ensure it gets where you want it to go.”
The giant thug stood there, looking me in the eyes, my own held there, open and deeply in his gaze. He was taking his measure of my honesty, and I could understand why. Likely he’d been lied to so much telling the truth was a rare luxury, and here was some pretty white girl dressed to kill offering him that very luxury. If we were reversed, I would likely be as dubious as he was. My heart felt like he could hear it beating, and I was struggling not to tremble under his gaze, all the while my cameraman continued to roll. I swallowed nervously, and then he nodded.
“A’ight, Whitebread. You got a sorta’ deal. But I doan’ wanna’ do this here. Back to my cell. An’ bring da’ camera. Dis way you can’t fuck me over by lyin’.”
I nodded, with a soft breath of relief, smiling inwardly.
“Fair enough… and thank you.” Bang, and thank you very much! I had just landed the biggest fish in the lake!
I gave a gesture with my head to make sure my cameraman followed us.
“But I promise you, I’m not lying. I’m a journalist. I’m held to a higher standard of integrity. At least compared to my competition on other networks. I wouldn’t advise talking with them… ever.”
I had to smile widely at that. Unlike my other network competitors, I had no hidden agenda, nor was I trying to slant their viewer’s perceptions and views. I always told what happened, and let the viewers sort out what it all meant. I am a reporter, not a parent. It was part of what helped my career and ratings remain so high.
We reached the cell, and he used one hand to slide the heavy cell door open, effortlessly. The door itself was heavy metal bars and plates, all very securely welded, plus a portal for meal trays. It was another demonstration of his power, strength, and even dominance. Yet, he was even polite enough to enter first, and show me that he wasn’t going to trap me. So far. My cameraman set up just outside the cell, and aimed his camera in towards us.
The cell was pretty much like all of the others. A bunk-bed arrangement made of heavy metal, and a small shelf that held his personal effects and toiletries. The top bed was empty, not even a mattress or pillow. He also had a small chair, which he sat on, plus one of the true luxuries I didn’t expect. His own television. He looked back at me, standing there, my stiletto heels together, my hands neatly clasped in front of me, and gestured me to have a seat on the lower bunk. I suddenly discovered where the upper bunk’s bedding was. I was now sitting on it. As I lowered myself, my skirt floated, and landed in a splayed circle about me, the front dr****g from my thigh as I crossed my leg at the knee.
“Thank you…” I replied to his kindness. My hands went to smooth the hem of my skirt, hoping to make it longer than it was. There was no doubt that anyone walking by could get a look under my skirt and see a lot of my stockings and even the garter-straps. A quick glance told me that there was a near-continuous parade of onlookers who never stopped to gawk, but kept moving. Not to look at him, but at me.
He sat there, looking at me, his face impassive, and his eyes bore into mine again. This time, however, I now had an agenda, a task, and was more in my element, even as I sat in his.
“So, please… what is your name? What would you like to be called? Is there some screen name we should be using? I don’t know… for your protection or something?”
He grunted and he sat there, and said nothing for along few moments. He just stared at me, though I could tell he was starting to sport a tent in his clothing. Just having me there had to be an immense turn on. I was well-dressed, clean, sexy-good looking, and wearing my trademark vanilla and citrus perfume. I was aware of the effects I had on men, but being that he had so little contact with females, likely he was unable to open up easily. Was I intimidating him? I narrowed my eyes as I realized cracking his guy’s mouth open was going to need a pry-bar. I needed to sweeten the deal further.
“Alright, how about this. Let’s play a game. An easy one. Truth or dare. I ask you a question and you give me the truth. Then you get to ask me a question, and if I refuse, I’ll do a dare. Does that sound fair?”
Another long moment.
I smiled, and then repeated my question. “So what should we call you? What name would you prefer?”
“My name is Jewan… But every calls me Big J. Or just J. Use that. Big J.”
I smiled to him. “Thank you. Now that didn’t hurt, did it?”
His face dropped into an immediate frown. “That ain’t the way it works, Whitebread. Your game, your rules. You only get one question. Since you din’t let me ask one, you do a dare!”
My jaw dropped in shock. I was at a loss for what I had done, until I thought about it. My efforts to be polite and even disarming had backfired. I had asked him a second question, and didn’t realize what I was saying. I’d have to be damn more careful in the future. I had underestimated the man, and underestimated the environment. This was truly a jungle I suddenly realized, and if I wasn’t careful, this tiger could eat me alive! I had the assumption that all crooks were somehow not as bright as those on the outside, but now I am learning that only the quick, the cunning, and the clever survive.
“Alright… you win, Big J. Your turn.” And I gave him a gracious nod. I had to submit to this, and play the game honestly. If I didn’t, there was no telling what he could, or would do to me before security came to my rescue. Not to mention my losing the interview, and heaven-forbid, my having to come back here.
“A’ight, girl.” He started, looking me over. “You said you wuz a mussus. So why’s yer man lettin’ you in here? A girl like you? I wouldn’t let you outta’ mah sight.”
I had to roll my eyes, not at him, but at myself. He had started to pick at a particularly sensitive area. My marriage. Off the block, he had found my weak point.
“Well… To be honest, he was very much against my coming back here. But my network pretty much made it mandatory, and I don’t want to lose my job. He doesn’t either. So here I am.” I raised my hands, palms up, in a futile gesture.
“A’ight. So’s yer turn.”
“Thank you, Big J. It seems you are the leader in here, after watching the others. Why?”
He sat back, and tilted his head, silent, again, for a long few moments before he spoke.
“Simple. No one can take me. I can whip every ass in here, an’ twice a week, easy.” He simply folded his massive arms in front of him, as a display of power. I had to admit. Those arms looked like jackhammers, and every bit as powerful.
I nodded to him. “Go ahead.”
“So yer husband doesn’t like you bein’ here. youwin güvenilir mi How’s he like knowin’ you like chocolate. A whoooole lotta’ chocolate?”
Now I was just floored. How in the Hell did he know my fantasies? How did he know that I have had the occasional black lover? I gave a single, inadvertent laugh, and the shock was plain on my face.
“H-… how… how would you know?”
“EEERRRRR!” he made a buzzer sound and quick as a cat, he was on his feet, standing in front of me. “Wrong answer, Whitebread. Now you doin’ a dare on me.”
I was flummoxed! I was being beaten at my own game, using my own rules! I swallowed, now nervous and looked up from my seat as he towered over me. Before I could say anything, his hand had unzipped his prison jumper and he was shrugging it down off his shoulders, and to his trim waist. He was built like a chiseled warrior. Heavily muscled, low body-fat, and a perfect black Adonis. If we were on the outside, and he propositioned me, I would have a very hard time turning him down. On the other hand, turning him down right now was out of the question. Not if I wanted to get the story I needed to keep my job, or leave here intact.
“Kiss it.” Was all he said, and he reached to the root of his man-meat and started to wave it at me. I was so shocked, I couldn’t even move, until he started to slap me in the cheek with that thing. He was easily the biggest man I had ever seen. He was semi-flaccid and nearly ten inches long, and bigger than any I had ever seen. There was no way I could use one hand on his black spear.
The last blow of the head of his cock slapping against my cheek shook me from my reverie, and I tentatively reached up, my perfectly manicured glossy-red nails shining in sharp contrast to his ebony dark skin. I grasped him mid-span and looked up to him, as I lowered my face to the end of his manhood. I didn’t need further guidance from him. Every girl knows where men like to have their cock kissed. So I made the most of this and placed a soft, pouty kiss on thick mushroom, and then ended with a teasing flick of my tongue along the slit, all the while keeping eye contact with him. I wasn’t positive, but I thought I could taste some of his pre-emission.
“Wow… You are big…” I commented as I resumed my posture.
He was starting to sit back down as I had spoken and he grinned.
“Ok, my turn, Whitebread!” he exclaimed gleefully.
I held up a finger. “Nope. By the rules, we are asking questions. I simply made a comment. I never asked you about how big you are.”
He grimaced. Round two went to me. So we were tied. Well, he was actually ahead, by a kiss. I was now sure I could taste his pre-cum on my lips as he sat back in his chair, his long, meaty black snake dangling over his thigh.
“Fine.” He raised a meaty hand up in acceptance. “Go ahead.”
“So tell us what your day is like here? What happens when you wake up?” And I gasped, then cut myself off, placing my fingers over my lips. I had screwed up again.
Big J never missed a beat, and he let the remainder of his jumpsuit hit the ground as he stepped out of it.
“Whitebread, you jes’ can’t help yerself, can ya?” He grinned as he approached me, a distance of a step.
“I’m gonna’ be more than fair to ya’, and I’ll answer that, an’ at the same time, you git ta’ do yer dare. So lie down on the rack.”
I sighed at this, and didn’t even bother protesting. I was so used to follow-up questions, a standard journalistic practice, that I was kicking my own ass at this game. So I sat back and rotated myself, until I was lying flat on my back, my ankles crossed. I used my hands to again try and make the hem of my miniskirt longer, not that it helped, or would matter.
The bed creaked loudly as he joined me, and lay next to me, his long snake d****d across my own thigh, now. I could feel his body heat, and his skin as it rubbed along mine. I looked up to him, as he looked down, resting from his side. He left his snake dangling on me as he spoke.
“Your dare is going to be a simple one. Who can last longer. I’m not gonna’ **** you in here. Though it would be easy. Easiest ass I ever had. But I’m getting’ out soon, an’ I ain’t gonna’ fuck that up. So the dare is simple. I’m gonna’ dry hump yer pussy. If you spray first, then I get to fuck ya’. If’n not, then you get to ask yer next question. I bet I kin make ya’ cum in less than five minutes.”
I sighed and nodded. “Alright.” It wasn’t like I had a choice. Besides, something was just starting to make my motor running. I finally got a look at my cameraman, who was obediently recording, while he had his cell phone out. I assumed it was for his own personal records.
He placed his thick hand on my knee and pushed it over, and I slid my legs apart, so he could climb into position. His knees landed inside mine and his greater size forced me to widen my thighs, as well as lift them higher, until they were resting atop his well-muscled ones. It was at this moment I lamented my encounter with the warden. I was desperately wishing I was wearing underwear, any sort of panty, even a thong! Then he laid his shaft along my womanhood. I could feel his body heat, as he got himself comfortable on top of me. My face was more to his neck as he settled in, and with his first stroke, he began to speak.
“I start my day waking up, usually on my back. My bed is too small to get comfortable in, and so I usually sleep like shit. I haven’t had a good night’s sleep since my last conjugal visit ‘bout a year an’ a half ago. Not since my bitch wife ran off an’ left me ta’ rot in here.”
I was feeling shockwaves of arousal through me as his cock slid gently up and down in long strokes. He was gentle, and just laying along my petals, yet the sensations were incredible. The length he sported was making me endure ever longer blasts of arousal as he, too, began to grow harder. I had a flash vision of what the camera was seeing, a petite redhead, her short white satin dress up to her waist, and a huge, strong, black thug imposing his will on her, and in her. It was like a bride being defiled on her wedding night, and that thought was a really bad one for my head. It sent a shockwave of pleasure through me, and I mewed, loudly.
If he had heard me, he didn’t let on as he continued to talk, and answer my question.
“Nex’ I straighten up and wait fer’ breakfast. Then I eat, and come back here, and deal wit’ business. Then I exercise.”
A question had been stirring in me, but it died along with more of my resistance. I had no idea how long it had been, but now I was feeling more and more of him, as I got more and more aroused. I tried to think of other things. Paying the bills, more of my husband’s weirdness. Buying a dog. Anything except the powerful thrusts that were now making my leakage evident and my folds open for him. Yet my voice was betraying my will, and displaying how weak my resistance was, and it was crumbling.
Every breath I made was a long mew, or moan, and he started to use more and more of his length to slide along my open gates. He kept talking about his daily schedule. He would eat lunch, more business, whatever the hell that was. More exercise. He had a class to attend, to prepare him for life on the outside. His damned voice never broke stride, as mine started to grow higher, and louder. I was losing the battle.
His voice droned on, now, about the ability to watch television, though he wished he had waited a little while to get his. The Rhino ones were much better, he had said, and hoped he could work a deal with another convict. By now my hands were roving his body, and my knees had lifted higher. My heels were dangling as my calves were now parallel to the bed, and wide apart. His thrusting was growing more insistent, and my cries were, too.
“Three minutes.” He spoke loudly, not breaking stride.
I didn’t know if that meant time to go, or time elapsed. But I couldn’t ask. His thrusts were growing even harder, and longer. His mushroom had started to probe at my opening a couple of times, now. I was in danger, but couldn’t do anything about it, or say a word. I couldn’t even speak, other than moan as his cock kept smacking my clit, or sliding along my slick furrows, and making me feel more and more of his passion.
My hips started to rise up to meet him, and to pull back when he withdrew, and that was when that thick mushroom fully engaged with my opening. I felt him, and the danger. If he thrust into me, I was doomed. I cried out.
“No! No! You aren’t wearing a condom!”
It was stupid, my worrying about birth control, when I should have been telling him not to enter me. I was just not myself. I was better than this, and sharper. I was the intrepid reporter, doing the stories nobody else would touch. I was tough, I was strong, and in the next split second, I was fucked.
He sank his cock into me, the long, inexorable plundering of my pussy made my lungs inhale a full and audible gasp of air, while my eyes rolled back into my head. My back arched and my fingers started to claw into his ebony dark skin, his natural oils feeling like the same satin I was wearing. I had lost the contest, but I didn’t care. All I felt was the sheer joy of a far superior man mating with a now-willing woman. Then his legs moved under me, and he curled his thighs to cradle my hips. I was now trapped inside the cell of his body encompassing mine, while his prison cell encompassed us both. Yet I loved it.
He took his time, or what would pass for patience, for a guy who hadn’t gotten laid in eighteen months. He made me feel every fraction of an inch of his hardness, until I was full, and he bottomed out inside me. I had taken most of him, but there was just a last inch or so that wasn’t going to fit. His new thrusts, deep inside me, made him growl in a new, deep voice. The walls now echoed with my soft voice whining in a loud unison as we fucked. My body doing its best to do what it was destined to do, while his did the same, to procreate, and to make new life. The fact that we were from different races, and far different socio-economic backgrounds meant nothing to nature and to our bodies. My tongue began to stick out from my ruby lips, waggling in a desperate attempt to passionately kiss my erstwhile lover, and yet all I wound up doing was lick at his neck, and his earlobe, while his hands began to grope me, and maul my ample breasts. His thumb and forefinger began to tweak and pinch my nipples which were already hard and erect g****s atop my impressive melons.
There was now a crowd at the cell entrance, with other convicts leering, watching and few even had their Johnsons out and were openly masturbating. I had a fleeting glimpse of this as his cock sent a shiver through me. A pre-cursor for what I was about to experience. That was when some reality took over.
“Please… please… pull out… I’m… not… on… the… pill…” I whined with each breath forming a single word.
“Your game, your rules, Whitebread. You lose, so I’m gonna’ breed you good!”
His voice was almost snarling, all the while his fucking grew more intense, and I was being jolted harder and harder. It was starting to almost hurt, but just a little and it was a good pain. That was when I felt it, that familiar tingle from deep in my pelvis. It was the start of my demise.
His pounding inside me was growing faster and faster, now, and my voice was growing louder and louder… I started to beg him.
“Please… pull out! “Don’t cum in me. Don’t… make… me… your… biiiiIIITTTCCCCHHHH!” and I screamed in orgasm, my body shuddering violently as his pounding grew sporadic and frenetic. The heaviest blows signaled his own ejaculation, and I actually felt the increased heat inside me as his heavy jewels unloaded inside me, spurt after spurt of his black cum splashing against the walls of my pussy and my quivering cervix.
Every blast of his seed was being pushed further and further into me, filling my depths with a pool of his essence that my cervix was now sipping into. I was laying under him, gasping for air, my eyes softly leaking tears. I wasn’t crying so much as just… spent. My own climax had been destructive to my psyche. I had no idea how intense a black man could make me orgasm, and I had no idea how much passion I could be infused with. I was laying there, cradled by his legs, when I started to try and get loose. I then felt his hands cradle under my shoulders and then curl and hold me to him. He held me still, as his cock was hard in me, plugging my vagina. A trickle was leaking, I was pretty certain, but no doubt not nearly the amount he had spent inside my body. Intentionally or not, he was trying to get me pregnant.
“Stay, Bitch.” Was all he said, and so I did. I had to be compliant. I couldn’t outsmart him, and I couldn’t out-muscle him. What the hell else could he do to me? I was able to look at my cameraman, who was still running tape, but now talking emphatically on his cell phone.
“I tell you, I got pure gold here!” the cameraman spoke into the phone.
“You better be fucking sure, Dude.” The Rhino Multimedia Center tech said. “We lost your feed before you got started. Don’t let that tape outta your sight… Mr. Botha said he wants a personal viewing.”
The cameraman nodded into the phone as he spoke.
“He won’t be disappointed. He outsmarted her from the beginning. She never had a chance, I tell ya’. He had her on her back within five minutes, and he might have even made her pregnant. It’s great stuff!”
“Fine… Then fold up your sticks and get your ass back here. Let the producer deal with her now.”
As I lay there, recovering, I saw my cameraman begin to put his camera back into the bag, and head out. The asshole was leaving me here, alone with this thug! I struggled again, only to be held tightly in place.
“Listen… J… Big J… Alright… you got what you wanted. You got to have sex with me… Now lemme go…” My voice was softer, and now I was trying to plead my case for escape.
He remained silent, and yet held me tightly.
“Listen… Lover? I need to go…” I started to play it more feminine and coquettish. “Please?”
I finally got a response from him. It was the sound of his snoring.
Oskar Botha sat in his private viewing room, the remote control in his hand. It had been two days since his protégé` of sorts, Mrs. Suzi Recreant, had unwittingly created one of the best fuck-films ever. She had practically guaranteed herself stardom in both the newsroom, and now the cinematic interracial porn world. He clicked on the phone next to him.
“Where’s she now?”
He listened and nodded softly. “Excellent. Get her transfer going. I want her into that new market in Southern California. The place is ripe for conditioning and a takeover.”
He paused and then spoke. “Her husband? Who gives a shit. Send her a program and get her to leave his ass behind. I got no use for him anymore. But no divorce, she has to stay married to him… Viewers love to watch a wife getting banged for all she’s worth.”
He hung up the phone, satisfied. His plans for expansion were coming along nicely.
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