Claire Doyle tried to hold on tight, tried to ride the surging waves of passion that were flowing through her body. Her hands gripped the shoulders of her man, felt the taut muscles, the power stored up in that strong frame. In her mind's eye she saw the contrast between her pale fingers and his dark blue-black skin. She opened her mouth and expelled a shuddering gasp. It released the pressure but only momentarily. Her man had her just where he wanted her and just where she needed to be. His big hard cock was taking her, claiming her and preparing to close the deal on her.
That was what her man did. That was why they called Julius Moore 'the Closer'. All the photographs in the small back room of the apartment were trophies of his successes over the years. Women who had dipped their toes into being blacked but could still withdraw, still escape back to the safe tedium of their old whitebread lives. The Closer knew the cure for such doubts and hesitations. Every one of the women in those back room photographs had been here or somewhere very like here. Every one had been with Julius Moore just as she was now. His powerful thrusting Black cock ready to transform them, to let them be who they needed to be.
Claire summoned all her resources and gasped into his ear.
"Cum in me, give me my baby."
She knew her words had come out in an almost incomprehensible babble but it seemed that Julius had understood. He held her tight and his thrusts achieved a new intensity, a demanding power that could only end one way. She yearned to feel it, the consummation of all that had happened since she had first set foot into this apartment. The moment when he planted his potent African cum deep inside her. When his seed would start to seek out that egg of hers. They were here today because it was the best possible time. They'd been here yesterday too and would be here tomorrow as well - just in case. They would be lucky or they would be here again next month and the one after that if necessary. 'When' had replaced 'if' a long time ago.
'If' had no place in this part of the Closer's world.
Julius gave a half-grunt half-snarl and then came hard into her pussy. She held him there and tried to milk out all that precious seed. He gave slow deep thrusts in response. This bitch was getting it all. It'd be down to Mother Nature whether she caught. She was a beautiful fair-skinned red-headed five-oh bitch and the purest pleasure to breed. He knew he should want her coming back for a year or two but that just wasn't the way he rolled. There were a lot of beautiful white women out there and it was his mission to take as many of them Black for good as he could. There wasn't nothing held a woman to her new life like a belly full of his baby. This fine-assed bitch wouldn't be wasted on no white boy.
He felt her arms wrapped round him, keeping him there until she was sure that she had all he could give her. He smiled. Nothing said he'd done his job right more. He moved so that his eyes could meet hers. She had beautiful eyes and he let his lock on a moment before he brought his mouth to hers. Their kiss was passionate, tongues meeting with the intimacy of lovers. Julius Moore had enjoyed a lot of fine-assed white bitches and this one was up with the best of them. It was time.
"Preach for me baby."
Claire had got her breath back now. She no longer had to concentrate to remember what he was asking for. It just came naturally.
"Rule One - when you say gone we bitches get gone. Rule Two - Only we bitches are allowed here. Rule Three - No panties. Rule Four - We represent our man at all times, looking and acting accordingly. Rule Five - Your bitches are your property, we belong to you and anyone else you want us to. Rule Six - We are Black only and Black always. Rule Seven - We fuck bare and no birth control allowed. Rule Eight - Our job is to represent right and to recruit any white girl worthy to be a Black man's bitch."
Julius nodded. He always liked his bitches to put their own little spin on the wording. It wasn't about learning rules by heart it was about accepting and understanding their meaning and their importance. That way he knew his bitches would be keeping to them. Not just the words but the spirit and the essence.
"Only two rules left to learn." His voice was smooth. He didn't need to coax or persuade, let alone to threaten. This one was already bought in to the max. "You want to hear them?" It wasn't a real question. He hardly needed her nod of assent.
"Rule Ten is that the deal is closed when carried to term. Maintaining these rules is my bitches' ultimate responsibility, above the law, above your old family, above anything and everything."
She had one query. "Carried to term?"
"You know what that means."
Of course she did. What else had they been doing in this room over the last few months? What else did all of those photos in the back room symbolise. The young white women and their babies, each and every one clearly fathered by a Black man. Each and every one the children and baby-mommas of Julius Moore. The last photo was of Jean Butler holding up her positive pregnancy test.
Then there was the space below her own handwritten name. The space that should carry her own photograph. The space that WOULD carry it. She had felt confirmation of that fact in her own reaction to the tests. She could remember that first one - done here in front of Julius. The whole process of carrying out the test. Then the wait and the fear, the realisation of how it could change everything for her. How nothing would be the same again. The confusion and the almost terror of waiting for those lines to appear. The realisation that only the control line had appeared and the resulting, shocking, feeling of disappointment.
Her second test had been her own responsibility and she had genuinely been convinced that it would come out positive. She had gone through the process and then waited with confidence for the confirmation that she was pregnant. None of the fear or hesitation of the previous time. This was how it was going to be and she was ready for it. Except, once again, only one line had showed. This was when the fear had come that second time. She had been sure that she would be proved pregnant. It was crazy but she felt that she had let her man down. How would he react?
He had been disappointed but he had shrugged it off easily enough. "Had it take first time and had it take twelve months. Journey's different but its the destination that matters and we all know where my five-oh bitch is ending up don't we?" Then his eyes had taken on that harder look for an instant until he'd observed that they were both on the same page in that matter. It had sort of reassured her. The destination was, as the Closer said, certain. He wouldn't be settling for less but he also wouldn't be kicking her out.
It had all given her time to understand her relationship with Julius Moore. They fucked a lot and sometimes made love but they were not in any way a couple. She had known about Jean, of course. She knew that the Closer also had another woman visiting him. the evidence was pinned up to the wall in that back room. Another trophy pair of panties and another hand-written name tag. 'Nicola'. Claire knew nothing about Nicola, had never met her. She was a little surprised to find that she didn't resent or feel jealous of her.
With Jean it had been different. When Jean had come by and lifted her top to let Julius see the slight bulge in her belly. Julius' obvious pleasure and the gentleness with which he had put his dark hand on her to show where his baby was growing. Then Claire had felt envy and jealousy. Then she had realised that she would only resent the Closer's new bitch, Nicola, if her picture of a successful pregnancy test was pinned up ahead of Claire's own. The outside world might not understand but that was how it was. She came here to be bred, to be knocked up, to carry Julius Moore's baby. To become what he wanted her to be - a Black man's woman beyond doubt and beyond regret. Once you understood and accepted that then it was only any delay that was to be regretted.
