The Serengeti Yeti

Blackout

by Parker

Parker 19

WARNING: This story involves a good deal of non-consensual sexual activity. If you're offended by this sort of story, stop reading now. Consider yourself warned.

Copyright 1994 by Parker (me). Feel free to distribute the story (unaltered, of course), but be discrete.

 

The West Side Projects.

Irregular clumps of grey, concrete structures surrounded by torn and twisted chain link. Each cluster of three buildings encloses a concrete playground, where the skeletal remains of slides, see-saws, parallel bars cast long shadows in the setting sun. Rusted swings sway like hunched gibbets in the wind. A stubborn drinking fountain, cracked porcelain and weed filled, still bleeds a small trickle of brackish water...

"... by then, the cunt was moanin' and whinin' like a bitch in heat. Humpin' up and down on my black cock and screamin' like she didn't know if it was the best or worst thing she'd ever felt."

"Shit, man..."

"Best fo sure..."

Laughter.

The tall man looked around before continuing, enjoying the attention of his audience. "You'd think she'd never had a cock up her cunt before, the way she was carry'n on, bouncin' and squealin'..."

"Like that bitch Taylor owned a couple years ago..."

"Fuck, she probably hadn't," one of the listeners - a fat kid named DJ - interrupted again. "Stuck up college bitches..."

"Yeah. Think their cunts are made've gold or somethin'."

"Well she wasn't no fuckin' virgin," the tall man laughed. "C'n tell ya that."

"Not after that party," another man called out.

Bright splashes of color - promises, threats, questions, names and dates - scrawl wildly across the uniform grey in futile explosions of illiterate anarchy. The rusting, empty aerosol cans dot the weed and broken-glass fields that surround, separate and enclose the concrete deserts. Roads erode...

"Hell no," the storyteller laughed. "By the time we was done with her, she'd fucked more brothers than one of Taylor's bitches on a busy night. Bitch had more cocks in her that night than a rich whore."

Catcalls and jeers momentarily interrupted the story.

DJ spoke up: "Then what happened?"

"Ahh, not much. Tommy put one of Marcie's party dresses on the bitch, drove her a couple'a blocks n' booted her outta the car."

"Fuck... on 49th?"

"Yeah." The speaker grinned knowingly. "She got out OK, though. Lannie and a couple of guys porked the bitch in behind the gas station - said she barely put up a fight she was so badly fucked up - then she got a cab."

The black metal door had been built for safety.

For security.

It remained at its post, but just barely, hanging on by a rusted hinge. The landing inside was dark, the empty light socket staring down like a blind eye. The elevator door is jammed open, and the elevator - a cruel joke even when it was new - hung a long step downward, filled with debris.

Piss-soaked stairs led upward...

"A cab? On 49th? Fuck off."

"Yeah," the tall man laughed. "Right outta fuckin' nowhere, the only fuckin' cab on the West Side. It was Jackson, though. Word is she offered to blow him for a ride to the fuckin' campus. Said she had a talented mouth."

The men all laughed.

"Said the bitch was drippin' cum all the way home..."

"Wooooeeee..."

The third floor landing leads down a debris and graffiti hallway to an open door. A group of men - all black - are seated in a circle in a room that has been informally enlarged through the destruction of two walls. A lucky few are sitting on the holed remains of furniture; the rest are perched on crates or milk cartons.

All are listening...

"Had ta wipe it off the seats with a fuckin' rag."

The men laughed again. Some clapped and whistled. Best story they'd heard all night.

"Not bad, bro. Not bad."

The men turned, still laughing.

The man who had spoken walked into the room, closely followed by two or three others.

"Hey Darrell," the man who had been telling the story grinned over at his friend. "Whad'ya mean 'not bad'. Fuckin' 'not bad'? Y'can't top that."

Darrell grinned back. "I can." He reached the circle of men. "C'n top that by a long shot." He pulled a box over and sat down, facing the others.

"OK." DJ, as usual, spoke up. "Let's hear it, bro."

Darrell sniffed, leaning forward. "Listen up then. Remember 'bout three weeks ago, that blackout on the West Side?" Most of the men nodded; that particular blackout had led to a bonanza of burglary and looting. They'd all made too much money to forget it.

"OK." Darrell continued his story. " Me'n few brothers were ridin' the T-Rail south, just after Burnside Station, where it goes into the tunnel..."

*****

The woman looked up from her paper when the five black men got on the T-Rail at Burnside Station. Her pretty face creased for a moment in a look that was part fear and part anger (and part guilt at feeling this way), but a quick glance around the inside of the compartment revealed enough other passengers - *safe* passengers - so that trouble seemed unlikely. Still, she felt more than a little uncomfortable when she saw that the black men had taken seats between her and the other passengers. She ran a nervous hand through her blonde hair and looked back down at the newspaper; best just to ignore them. The train would be at McLellan Station soon enough, and she would be safe there. If the black men stayed on, she would get off and catch the next train.

The T-Rail jerked forward, letting out a loud screech as it left Burnside Station. Picking up speed, it rounded a corner, went over Sherman Street and plunged into the mile long tunnel which ended at the next station.

The woman glanced up as she rocked back and forth in her seat, still uncomfortable. Was one of the black men staring at her? She dropped her eyes downward, frightened to attract attention. In her expensive business suit and skirt, she felt like a target. Instinctively, she reached down to touch her briefcase. Still there.

Her decision was made. She was definitely getting off at McLellan. There was no way she...

The lights went out and the T-Rail ground to a halt.

"Fuck, I remember that," DJ interrupted.

"Remember that fuckin' jewellery store?" Another man spoke. "We musta scored..."

"Hey." The other men fell silent. "Do you wanna hear the story, or what?"

"Sure, Darrell."

"Yeah. What happened?"

Silence.

Then a low rumble followed by the quiet hum of the fans starting up again. There was a collective sigh of relief in the compartment as the air started flowing again. A few people began to talk and there was some nervous laughter.

The woman started. Was that movement beside her? She strained to see in the pitch blackness, but it was no use. Frightened, she began to get to her feet, to move across to the other end of the compartment. It would be...

A large hand wrapped itself around her mouth and dragged her back down into her seat. She let out a muffled squeal and brought her own hands up to free herself, but froze when she felt a cold, metallic edge on her throat.

A knife!

"Jus' relax," a voice whispered to her. The knife blade dug a little deeper into her throat, not yet cutting, but not far from it. "Fight'n I'll cut you 'nother mouth."

The woman dropped her hands and relaxed back in her seat, almost paralysed with fear. She felt other hands, grabbing at her, touching her... One of them took hold of the shoulder strap of her purse and jerked it away from her. She almost felt relief at that; maybe once they'd robbed her they would let her go.

Robbery she could handle.

The hand left her mouth, but the knife remained at her throat.

"Jus' sit quiet," the voice ordered softly. "Make a sound'n your dead. Got it?"

The woman nodded her understanding, too frightened to speak.

The hand that had been at her mouth now moved down the front of her body, slipping under the top of her blouse and cupping her breast through the bra. She stiffened in panic, but the knife kept her from moving. The hand moved from one breast to the other under her blouse, squeezing her breasts through her bra, pulling... pinching...

"Nice tits, bitch."

The woman squeezed her eyes shut and bit her lip, trying not to cry out.

"Stand up," the voice told her. "Nice'n slow."

Trembling, she obeyed, pushing herself up out of her seat and standing with her hands by her side. The knife stayed at her throat as she moved. The hand pushed her a step forward and she felt the man move around to stand directly behind her. She felt his body push close against her from behind as the hand slipped around over her shoulder and down under her blouse to resume fondling her breasts.

"Good bitch." She felt warm breath at her ear as the man licked and nibbled at her earlobe. "Nice bitch."

"Uh..."

She let out a quiet gasp as she felt the presence of another man right in front of her. The knife pressed down for a moment in warning and she managed to control herself. The unseen figure in front of her moved closer until she felt his breath on her face. Closer... then his lips touched her's.

"Mmmm..."

She pressed her lips tightly together and turned her head, but a hand grabbed a fistful of her thick blonde hair and turned her head forwards.

"C'mon bitch," the voice whispered in her ear. "Give m' brother a kiss."

"Jeez'... I don't fuckin' believe it..."

"You guys did this on a motherfuckin' T-Rail?"

Darrell grinned. "It get's better..."

Reluctantly, she kept her head steady and parted her lips. The man in front of her immediately pressed his face closer and slid his tongue into her mouth. She fought to keep from gagging as she felt his stubble burn her chin and hot, fetid breath invade her mouth. After a few moments, the man pulled his mouth away, giving her lips one last lick with his tongue.

The woman panted, almost hyperventilating with fear, fighting back the urge to bring her hand up to wipe the man's spittle from her lips. She waited in silence for the next humiliation. She didn't have to wait long. There was a quiet snick, and she felt the cold steel of a second knife slide down her chest and under her blouse. She held her breath as it slipped under the front strap of her bra and cut it. The front of her bra fell open, exposing her breasts to the man behind her. He let out a quiet chuckle as his hand pushed away the torn remnants of her bra and directly fondled her breasts.

The knife was taken away from her chest, but before she could feel any sense of relief, a hand pulled at her skirt, tugging it downwards. At first, she thought they were trying to pull it off, but it was just held tight. Then there came a quiet tearing sound. What was...

"Spread your legs, bitch" whispered a voice from low down in front of her. "Or you'll be cut."

With a quiet moan of fear, the woman realized what was happening. They were using a knife to cut a slit up the front and back of her grey skirt. Moving awkwardly, she obeyed, widening her stance so the knife wouldn't cut her leg. Then she stood, shivering, while the man in front of her made a long cut up the front, and then the back, of her skirt.

After the second cut was made, a hand slid up the inside of her thighs up to her crotch. Her eyes watered and a tear trickled down her cheek as she felt a hand on her pussy, cupping it and rubbing.

"P-please," she whispered.

"Jus' relax," the voice whispered at her ear. The man gave her breast a little squeeze, tweaking the nipple. "Be a good little bitch."

The blade of the second knife was slid under the waist band of her panties. With a flick, the thin elastic material was sliced and the panties pulled away. Her pussy was now exposed to the groping fingers; they rubbed up and down, playing and teasing as she squirmed helplessly, and then, inevitably, slipped inside. She let out a gasp, but it was stifled as the man in front of her brought his face against her's for a kiss. This time, she didn't try to turn away; she just parted her lips and accepted his tongue in her mouth.

There was no use in fighting.

"Sounds like one hot bitch..."

"Sure beats your story all to hell," DJ gave the tall man a shove.

The tall man just shrugged his shoulders. "Dat's a fact, jack." He grinned. "If it's true."

Darrell smirked. "Oh, it's all true."

"Then what happened?"

"OK. While Steve was given her some tongue..."

The T-Rail lurched forward. A cheer rose up from the trapped passengers, but it quickly died away as the train ground to a halt again.

The woman felt the man's fingers slide out of her pussy as both her and the man behind her were thrown back onto a seat. For a brief moment she considered screaming for help, but the knife never left her throat. When the T-Rail stopped moving, she was sitting on the man's lap.

She felt something...

The man's cock was rubbing up against her ass. He must have taken it out of his pants, because she felt it directly against her flesh where the skirt had been cut away. She shivered at the touch of it, long and hard against her flesh.

And wet.

"OK bitch." The man's mouth was close up against her ear. "You wanna get outta this, you do what I say. Got it?"

The woman nodded.

"Good bitch. I'm take'n the knife away, but it's right here beside me." The blade left her throat; she let out a sigh. "You fuck up and I'll cut your heart out." The woman trembled at these words, but didn't cry out or try to escape.

She believed him.

Every word.

"Now, spread your legs."

She obeyed, opening her legs until her knees were spread further apart than the man's, pulling apart the long slit in her skirt. As she did so, she felt a second hand - the hand that had been holding the knife against her throat - slip around and cup her other breast.

"Reach down between your legs and grab my cock."

She let out a quiet moan, hesitating.

"Do it," he hissed, tightening his grip on her already sore breasts. Whimpering, she reached down through the long slit in her skirt and touched his cock. It was long and rock hard where it stuck up between her thighs. Sensing what he wanted, she wrapped her fingers around it and began sliding her hand up and down, masturbating it between her thighs as if it were her own. The woman was resigned to it now, and the quicker he came, the quicker it would be over with.

"Ohhh, you hot bitch." The woman felt his tongue on the side of her neck. She twisted her head away, but that only gave him more room to lick and kiss up her neck to the side of her face. "Ohhh yeah..."

"This is gettin' stupid."

"Yeah... you guys didn't..."

"Shut up and listen."

The men fell silent.

One hand left her breast and dropped down to her exposed pussy. She let out a small gasp, squirming on the man's lap, but was unable to avoid his fingers and they rubbed up and down the outside of her pussylips and then slid inside. Still masturbating his cock, she fought it for as long as she could, but after a minute or two of the man's fingers exploring her pussy... and her clit... she felt herself begin to get moist. As much as she hated what was happening to her, her body couldn't help but respond. It was purely a physical reaction, but a reaction nonetheless.

She prayed he wouldn't notice.

"Juicin' up nicely, bitch." Her face burned with humiliation as her fingers, sticky with pre-cum, continued their work. "Just 'bout time to finish up." The man shifted his weight so that her feet reached the floor on either side of the chair. "Now, I want ya to stand up and sink your juicy cunt down on my black cock. Got it?"

Again, the woman nodded. She was at the stage where she would do *anything* just to end the ordeal. Moving slowly, careful not to give the impression that she was trying to escape, she gathered her legs under her and pushed herself up off his lap. His hands tightened on her breasts, but she had no intention of doing anything stupid. She had come too far for that. Her fingers, which had been busy masturbating his cock even while she stood, stopped pumping and pulled the cock forward. She let out a small moan as she realized just how large the cock was. Still, she had no choice; as slowly and gently as she could, she let herself sink down, her fingers guiding the man's cock into her unwilling pussy. First the head slipped in... then one inch... two inches... (for the first time, she was thankful for the moisture which made this relatively painless) four inches...

"Ahhh..."

She let out a little cry as the man lost patience with her slow descent and used her breasts to drag her back down onto her lap. With one brutal thrust, his massive cock was buried to the hilt in her spasming pussy.

"Shit. You fucked th' bitch right on the fuckin' T-Rail?" DJ looked sceptical. "Don't fuckin' believe..."

Others, however: "What was she like?"

"Well," Darrell answered, grinning, "I'll tell ya..."

"Whew," the man sighed. "This is one tight-cunt bitch."

The other men laughed softly as the woman hung her head, face burning with humiliation.

"OK bitch. Start ridin'."

She knew what he meant.

With a quiet moan, she gathered her legs under her and began riding his cock, pushing up and down... up and down... sliding her now-sopping pussy up and down on the unwelcome intruder, unwillingly serving his pleasure.

"Faster, bitch."

Sweat broke out on her brow, matting her blonde hair to her forehead and trickling down her face onto her chest where the man's hands mauled her breasts, as she began to move faster and faster: up and down, riding his long, hard cock in and out of her stretched pussy. She began to pant and emit quiet grunting sounds in time with her movement as she bounced up and down on his lap like some kind of whorish puppet. After a while, the muscles in her leg started to cramp up, but she kept moving.

Up... down... up... down...

In... out... in... out...

Against her will, her pussy began to spasm around the invading cock as her body trembled, betraying her...

"You mean she liked it?" DJ again.

"Always the same; white bitches love black cock. They can't fuckin' help themselves."

"Thas' a fact, jack."

"Straight up," Darrell agreed. "And then..."

"Jeez Darrell," came a voice from in front of her. "I want some a' that."

"Stop for a second, bitch."

She fought back a groan of frustration as the man forced her to be still on his lap. She panted as she sat there, feeling his cock buried deep within her burning pussy... just a little more...

"Bitch's mouth's free."

The feeling of pleasure fled as she realized what the man had said. Her mouth? Oh, no...

A hand clutched at her face, pulling her forward. "You heard'm," a voice whispered. "Open wide."

The tears streamed down her at this new humiliation, but she obeyed without question, parting her lips to accept this new invasion. She just wanted to get it over with. Immediately, she felt a long, hard cock slip into her mouth. She gagged at the bitter taste of the pre-cum, but didn't pull away. With a quiet moan, she began to suck at it, bobbing her face up and down and using her tongue to...

"C'mon bitch." She felt the hand tighten on her breasts. "Not done here yet."

Once again, being careful not to bite down on the that was cock being fed into her mouth, she began to move, sliding her wet pussy up and down on the man's cock. In her bent over position, it seemed to penetrate even deeper, but she had no choice. Using her hands to brace herself, she began to pick up speed. And slowly, ever so slowly, the pleasure began to build again as her tight ass bounced up and down on the man's lap while her mouth sucked hungrily at the other man's cock. Faster and faster she moved, picking up speed as the feelings built towards orgasm, humping and bucking and sweating and grunting like a practised whore. Just a little more and...

The T-Rail let out a loud screech and jerked forward a couple of feet. The lights flickered...

The woman's feet slipped out from under her and her pussy was violently jammed down on the man's cock as she fell back onto his lap. At the same time, the man whose cock she was sucking lost his balance and fell forward, driving his cock straight down her throat.

All three came at once.

The man on the chair stiffened and, clutching hard at her breast, shot his cum out into her writhing pussy.

The man in front pulled back slightly, ending the involuntary deep throat, but still shot his load into her mouth, filling it with his thick, salty cum.

The taste sent her over the edge. Choking and sputtering cum, she twisted and writhed on the man's lap, panting and gasping in ecstasy and humiliation as waves of pleasure crashed through her sweat-soaked body. It was all she could do not to scream out loud...

The lights flickered again.

"Fuck!"

"Move it."

There was a flurry of activity around her as the man behind her pushed her off his lap and shoved her over onto a seat beside him. "Listen, bitch," the man hissed, shoving the newspaper back into her hand. "You sit quietly and get off with us at the next station." She tried to say something - to protest - but her mouth was full of cum. Grimacing, she tried to swallow as she heard the other men take their seats in front of her. She felt his knife prick her in the ribs. "Any trouble..." He didn't even bother to finish the threat. She felt him get up and move away.

The lights flickered and then came back on.

There was silence in the room. Each man stared at Darrell, waiting to hear what happened. Darrell just stayed silent, looking around the room with a big grin on his face. It was DJ who broke the silence. "Fuck, Darrell. What the fuck happened?"

The passengers had cheered as the T-Rail began to move again. People had looked around, smiles of relief on their faces, but no one had noticed anything different.

Anything wrong.

And, if anyone noted that the attractive blonde in the conservative, grey business outfit on the other side of the compartment looked a little dishevelled, well... they put it down to nerves. Claustrophobia. More than one passenger looked a little worse for the wear.

Still, all's well...

The T-Rail eventually ground to a stop at McLellan Station.

The woman lowered the paper and looked at the black men. They had stood up, and one of them flashed a knife at her. She glanced at the other passengers, but no one had seen it. No one knew anything was wrong. She got to her feet, grimacing at the cold, sticky feeling between her thighs where the man's cum had leaked out of her pussy, and began to walk towards the exit.

"Excuse me, lady?" She almost fainted with relief, turning as a young man at the other side of the train called out to her. At last, someone had noticed... "You forgot your briefcase." The man gestured to where her briefcase sat at the back of the compartment.

Help me you idiot!

The man smiled at her and turned back to his paper.

"Thanks," she muttered. One of the black men stood in the exit, preventing the door from sliding shut as she slowly walked back and picked up her briefcase. With a final glance around the compartment - no help there - she sighed and walked out onto the platform. The door slid shut and the T-Rail pulled away with a loud rumble.

She stood on the platform, now surrounded by five black men. "C'mon bitch." It was the man who had raped her.

The man with the knife. "And keep quiet."

Meekly, broken, she followed the men out of the station...

*****

The men all began talking at once:

"Fuck, that was hot..."

"Great story man..."

"Wheeeoo..."

Again, it was DJ who asked the question that everyone was thinking: "What the fuck happened to the bitch, man? Sell her to Taylor?"

Darrell laughed. "Fuck no. It's not everyday a white cunt falls into your lap like that. I fuckin' kept her; she's *my* bitch now."

"Fuck off!"

"No way, man..."

Darrell turned. "Tina," he called, "hustle your white ass in here."

The men all stared at the door as the woman - Tina Swanson - entered the room, closely followed by one of Darrell's friends. Darrell watched with satisfaction as the men all gaped. Even *he* was surprised every time he saw her: all traces of the confident young career woman he had raped on the T-Rail three weeks ago had been systematically erased.

In her place stood a cock-hungry bimbo.

*His* cock-hungry bimbo.

She was dressed in a tight, black polyester mini-skirt, just over a foot long, which barely stretched from her lower abdomen to the bottom curves of her ass. Her long, slender legs were bare all the way down to the bright red, six inch pumps. The only other item of clothing she wore was a half-cup tank top, bright pink, at least a couple sizes too small. It left her stomach and upper chest completely bare, hardly sufficing to push up her smallish breasts. Her upper body was bare, completely exposing a large tattoo on her upper chest: "DARRELL'S BITCH" it said, in big red letters, still bright and new. Her face was heavily made up, lips made thick and pouty with shiny, red lipstick and green eyes strongly outlined with eyeshadow. Each ear had been triple pierced, and three heavy, plastic hoops dangled on each side of her face. Her blonde hair, so stylishly cut the first time he had seen her, was streaked with purple and teased up in a wild, sluttish manner.

Even so, someone recognized her.

"Motherfucker," one of the men exclaimed. "That's no bitch; that's a fuckin lawyer. She's a fuckin' DA."

Darrell grinned again. "Thas' right," he agreed. "I fuckin' knew it when I saw her on the T-Rail. She put m' brother away a year ago." He paused for a moment before adding: "'Course, don't matter, nohow." He turned back towards where the woman stood just inside the doorway. "C'mere babe."

Smiling, the woman walked over to him, hips swinging in the tight miniskirt. She draped one of her bare arms over his shoulder as she came up beside him. He reached around and squeezed her ass.

"Tina babe," he said, "you don' wanna go back to no stuffy courtroom, now do ya girl?"

Tina pouted and shook her head uncertainly.

"Whadya want?"

She smiled.

That was an easy one.

She knew the answer.

"Wanna stay with you, babe," she giggled, dropping her free hand to her crotch and lewdly gyrating her crotch towards his face. "Wanna do the 'wild thing'." Darrell grinned at her and she sighed inwardly with relief, running her tongue over her thick, pouty lips. She was getting better at this: pleasing him; acting the bimbo; being his "bitch".

Surviving.

Darrell turned back to the other men and got to his feet. "Y'see," he leered. "A happy ending for everyone."

He turned to leave, a giggling Tina on his arm. Just as he got to the door though, he turned, pulling his blonde bimbo around until she faced the men. "Before we go," he told her, "you should say 'hi' to the brothers here. N' be nice; you won't be my bitch forever, y'know."

Tina swallowed, catching his meaning. She looked slowly around the room, catching each man's eye and trying to look as sexy as possible. If there was one thing she's learned in the last few weeks, it was that her survival depended on satisfying black cock. In her mouth; in her cunt; in her ass...

And there was plenty of black cock here in this room. With a small shudder - half fear, half lust - she knew that she'd eventually belong to at least some of these men.

Just as she now belonged to Darrell.

"Hi boys," she purred, giving her hips a little wiggle. "Hope to see ya soon."

Darrell laughed...

The West Side Projects.

Irregular clumps of grey, concrete structures surrounded by torn and twisted chain link. The skeleton slides and gibbet swings have disappeared, their outlines swallowed up by the dark, starless night. Dim light shines out through grimy, boarded windows, revealing the presence of numerous closed, half-shadowed rooms. Babies crying... couples fighting or making love...

And, in one of those rooms, Tina Swanson - Darrell's bitch - takes another load of cum up her ass, all the while humping her white ass backwards and crying out in simulated ecstasy...

THE END

The Serengeti Yeti

• Yeti's home

• Return to menu

• Previous part

• Next part

• Email Yeti