Isobel 3 Learning The Rules

She wished her friend Zoe was here. The problem was that being in the house alone you couldn't help your mind pursuing certain avenues. You also had absolutely no incentive not to spend all day reading erotic stories and watching video clips that you might just have found on that self-same Zoe's lap-top.

There were a lot of things she wanted to ask Zoe. That instinct came naturally to Isobel since she was after all a trained journalist, if a (hopefully temporarily) chronically under-employed one.

She had been sent a little researching job but how did you get your head around that with all that was going on? Her sister had been in touch just to make sure that everything was OK. She'd reassured her, of course, had done so almost without thinking. The house hadn't burned down, there hadn't been a hurricane, everyone was fit and healthy. Of course her step-daughter Zoe had got a boob-job and was deep into a scene of interracial porn and pregnancy risk sex. Something Zoe unwittingly shared, courtesy of last night, with Isobel herself.

She hadn't told her sister any of the last pieces of news of course. If she had been going to tell on Zoe then she would have done so long before this. It had only in fact been a couple of weeks since she had made her first discoveries but those two weeks seemed like an age to Isobel now.

The morning had been easier. Quite apart from anything else she had been setting up her phone to record her new exercise routine. The man had been god to his word and had sent her a thirty minute program. Heavy on the squats and the leg work. She had thought herself in pretty good shape but that routine had been hard to get through. It had left her limbs aching but she knew that with time it would get easier. They always said 'no pain no gain' but just exactly what was she trying to gain here?

She didn't really want to admit that part to herself. However, the fact was that she had checked the video of herself exercising and had then sent it off. It was all being done to please a man and not just any man. An African-American man whose name she did not know but who was certainly involved with Zoe and with the people behind all of those stories and videos of interracial sex.

She knew that and she knew that she wasn't supposed to act like this. It didn't matter though. She still sent that video off and she still found herself desperately hoping that it would please him. This man who she knew only as 'Sir.'

Through the day she couldn't keep her mind off him. Had found herself thinking out scenario after scenario, following each thread to a conclusion and then thinking it through again and again. She hadn't felt like this since she had been a teenager experiencing her first crush. The comparison embarrassed her as an adult woman but that fact couldn't shake her fascination with the man and what lay behind him.

Finally the clock ticked round to close to the agreed time and she was in position in front of her lap-top a good ten minutes early with the connection established. She had remembered his comments about punctuality.

The clock kept moving but the holding screen remained stubbornly unmoving. A minute, two minutes, even five minutes. She was annoyed but more than that she was very disappointed. She had been waiting for this moment all day. Had something gone wrong?

After six minutes the screen flashed into a familiar image. A dark hand on a wooden desk-top. A familiar deep voice came over her speakers.

"Well done girl. I enjoyed your video and I noticed you were here good and on time."

'More than you were,' she couldn't help thinking but was careful not to say. However, perhaps her face gave her away.

He reacted with a gentle amused laugh. "You know how many time-wasters and wannabes we get? How many fakers and catfish? I been here since the hour and I been watching you. Just like I watched your video and saw you was doing things right. Putting in the work. You're doing good so far but if you want to be selected you need to be keeping that up. You was kinda late to the party but, well, you got a lot going for you. You gotta look that I and a lot of the brothas really appreciate you know what I mean."

Isobel felt a rush of pleasure at his words and inwardly cursed herself. It was ridiculous to react so to words he had probably said to a thousand women. However, the flush of pleasure was undeniable.

His gentle laugh came over the speakers again. "You blushing girl. Shit you gonna have more to blush about before we done." He tapped a finger on his desk. "Now like I said we ain't got no time to waste. Pretty faces ain't so uncommon. Might even have more than one nice juicy whooty being lined up for the next season. Anyway let's get down to business. Got any ink or piercings?"

"I don't have any tattoos or really any piercings. Oh, except my ears of course."

"OK - now's the time to prove that girl. You know how."

She had taken some time deciding what to wear for him tonight. Beyond just the tight exercise leggings that she knew would show her rear-end off to the max. Well that time had apparently been wasted because she knew just what he wanted. She had known this time would come and she had prepared herself for it.

Isobel stood up and eased her chair back. She took off her top and then eased herself out of her tight leggings. Then she faced the camera again wearing only her bra and panties.

"You think I want half-measures?" That was his only response.

Again she understood. This man and the people with him had never shown any sign of settling for anything but 100% of what they wanted and demanded.

She reached behind her back and unclasped her bra letting it fall to the floor. Then she eased her panties down until she could step out of them. Now she was naked and now she could face the screen again.

The only response from him was a casual rotation of a dark finger on the screen. Again she understood him. She slowly turned round allowing him to examine her from all angles.

"You don't disappoint girl. What was your name? Isobel. Cute name for a real fine piece of white tail. You got a booty for the ages but maybe a little light in the titty department. Still that's easily put right. Good to see you really ain't got no ink - amazing how many white girls think a little butterfly or unicorn or some such shit don't count."

"You don't like tattoos?" She was surprised given at least one of the videos she had seen. However, of course, she had to remember that she wasn't supposed to have seen that.

"Love to see a girl with plenty of ink - just so long as it's our ink." The emphasis he put on the word 'our' could not be missed or misunderstood. "You got a damn fine skin-tone. Pale till it kinda glows. The sort that looks real good when a Black man is fucking you."

She tried not to react to the crudeness of his last words. It shouldn't have been a surprise - it was absolutely obvious that whatever else was going on here this was about Black men fucking white women. That was why he was here. That was why Zoe had got involved with him. That was why...

A part of her mind tried to cut off the train of thought there but it failed. Whatever else she had told herself that was why she was here too. That was why she had read all of those stories and watched all of those videos. They had awakened something long suppressed in her.

"You like that idea." The amused tone was in his voice again but this time he really did surprise her. Could he read her mind? She looked down in a little confusion and saw her nipples standing hard and proud. It was a warm room but he didn't need to know that. This man knew his trade and knew the signals. Her nipples were probably only the most blatant sign of her arousal, of what his words and actions were doing to her and had been doing to her over the whole day.

"I'm guessing by the ring you ain't no virgin - technically at least. So you ever been with a Black guy?"

"No. My ex-husband is white as I said and so were my boyfriends at home and college."

"So you never been fucked for real?"

She gave a moment's thought to her husband and to the earlier fumblings of her first boyfriends. "No. No, I've never been really fucked."

His voice was relaxed. Just a tide of molten rich chocolate washing through her speakers and into her ears and mind. A voice that spoke of total confidence and total control. He didn't demand anything of her and she knew why. He already knew that she would give him everything he wanted and in return...

In return she would get what? She didn't know and something told her that perhaps he hadn't decided yet. However, she knew with all of her soul that she was desperate to find out.

"You want to be fucked, you want to be Blacked?"

"Yes." The word came amazingly easily. As if it was the most natural confession in the world.

"Since how long?"

"The last couple of weeks I haven't really been able to concentrate on anything else. Since I found out about you."

"And before then?"

"Before then," now she did struggle to put her thoughts into words, "before then I didn't want to admit it."

"Why not?" His voice was still smooth and full of assurance but that didn't hide the probing nature of his question. She wasn't going to be allowed to evade saying it.

"I was brought up... Well it was just understood that white girls shouldn't have anything to do with... black guys."

"Who was saying that to you?"

"Everyone - you know it was just understood." She repeated the phrase as if that made it any better. As if he would find that any more acceptable this time.

"I'm guessing it was white guys and their girls told you that. I'm guessing they didn't call us Black guys or African-Americans either. What did they call us girl?"

She almost squirmed on her feet, grimly aware of her nakedness and not just in the sense of being unclothed. He wanted her to say it though she hated the word.

"I'm not comfortable using that word."

"Damn right and you shouldn't be. Not unless a Black man wants you to. So you ain't calling me that word - so what word are you calling me?"

"Sir." She was rewarded by his low rumbling laugh through her speakers.

"So no ink and just the ears pierced. You always wear studs?"

"Not always," she replied, "but unless its a special occassion."

"Always been partial to a nice big pair of hoops myself. Tells you something about a girl if she can wear them."

She had never worn hoops. They looked tacky to her - way too showy, calling attention to yourself. She decided to keep that particular opinion to herself and happily he changed the subject again.

"You watch that video I sent you?"

She nodded, He had sent her a video just as he had previously sent many videos to Zoe. It had been interracial sex of course but with a certain twist. "Was it for real?"

"Everything we do is for real girl. That's why anyone involved needs to know the nature of the game. There ain't no fronting from us and we expect the same from you."

She hadn't ever really doubted that what she had seen was real. The ovulation test, the sex, the creampie and the casual talk of 'breeding' and pregnancy. Most of all the camera focused on the young woman's face. Those pictures really had fulfilled the cliché. They really were worth thousands of words. Someone like Isobel couldn't help but understand that she had never felt anything like that young woman was feeling in the moment. The intensity of it, the emotional power and evidently the pleasure.

"So what did you think?"

"It was hot." She paused a moment and then decided to be honest. "I wondered what it would be like to be where she was."

"Yeah, is that right?" In that moment she knew that he had seen through her last comment. He knew that she hadn't just wondered what it would be like. He knew that she had wanted to be there, in the young woman's place. He had known that because otherwise she would have turned the video off and failed to show tonight. The fact she was here now told him all that he needed to know. That was why he had sent the video in the first place.

"So how did you watch it?" His voice was casual but it was obvious that he was enjoying himself. She sensed that he was a man who took pleasure in every moment of a woman like Isobel confessing the truth about herself.

"I masturbated. It was, er, very good." That sounded weak but she wasn't used to discussing such things.

"With your hand or with a toy?"

She moved over to her draw and the returned to the front of the camera showing her little pink vibe.

There was his laugh again. "Maybe we can find you something more appropriate. Expect a delivery tomorrow. Meanwhile remember to do your exercises and send me that vid. Like to see a girl work for her reward. Same time tomorrow."

The connection ended and she was left standing naked in the middle of her room holding her vibrator and looking at her laptop screen. She glanced at the clock and was surprised by how long they had been online. It had only seemed like a couple of minutes.

Her machine gave a message notification. From him of course. A couple of links. The first to a site carrying thousands of stories. The second to another with hundreds of video clips. The latest posted only a few minutes before. Now she knew how Zoe had got all of her stash of porn. It hadn't all been sent to her. She had found it here and then selected what spoke to her. That made all the stories and clips she had been reading and watching over the last two weeks that bit more personal, that bit more visceral.

Videos were fine but maybe she was strange in that she preferred the stories. They made their own images inside of her mind. She scanned the lists and wondered where to begin. Well, first she began by putting her top back on and going to get a skirt. Her panties stayed on the floor and her vibe stayed right to hand. She knew she would have use for it this evening. Especially when she saw the title of one particular story.

***

'"Thank you Gregor."'

'Lady Caroline glanced up and saw her driver's eyes in the rear-view mirror. Gregor was impeccably loyal and unquestioningly discreet. It would not be wise to leave a vehicle like hers in a locale like this but Gregor would take it and return as usual.'

'She found her little hand-held mirror. Just a little routine at moments like this. She checked her make-up and thought a moment before applying a fresh application of lipstick. Selected especially for today its vibrant scarlet contrasted pleasingly with her pale skin-tone and her long blonde hair.'

'She smiled at her image - pleased by the effect. She liked to think that she knew what was appropriate for the occassion. That was why she was wearing an outfit she had originally bought to wear at Board meetings. After today it was unlikely to ever fulfil that role but she knew what was expected of her.'

'You could not, after all, hide who you were. She was Lady Caroline Travers and while that did not make her an aristocrat, whatever so many of her American friends thought, it did mean she had been married to Sir Geoffrey Travers. Knighted for fifty years of 'services to industry' also known as being able to sell loads of cheap crap for more than it was worth.'

'She had given Sir Geoffrey two of her best years and had never stinted in her wifely duties. A dedication that had sadly proved too much for his octogenarian heart but at least the old man had died happy. Of course there had been claims that she was a gold-digger. Such a suggestion! Just because a beautiful young woman in her mid-twenties had married a very wealthy man in his mid-eighties. People did rush to such conclusions! Another three years making sure her beloved husband's last will and testament had survived the jealousy of his children and she had found herself still young but now free, single and quite startlingly wealthy.'

'It hadn't taken long to discover that business and the expected social activities bored her horribly. Even her relocation to the good old United States had only provided a temporary respite. Temporary, that was, until she had made a discovery or two.'

'One of them was Gustav. Six foot five of blue-eyed, ash-blond haired, muscular Adonis. Anyone observing from the outside no doubt thought they understood why she had hired him. They couldn't be more wrong. Gustav was much more valuable to her than that. Hadn't he told her about this place?'

'She stepped out onto the sidewalk, noting the broken paving and the resilient weeds pushing up between them. She walked carefully the few required yards, her heels and those crooked paving slabs were not a match made in heaven. She reached a door notable only for the paint peeling from its exterior and a bell-push. She raised a long, elegant, finger and depressed the button.'

'At the same moment she heard the self-satisfied purr of her vehicle as it started. The DB12 eased off on its journey back downtown. She knew that Gregor had been watching her until he had seen the door open. Now she was on her own. Just as she desired.'

'The door had clicked open but she had to put a hand against it to make it open fully. She stepped out of the glare of early May sunlight and into a lobby stained from decades of nicotine. There was an ancient television noiselessly showing some sports event or other and a monitor showing the world outside of that front door but the man was looking at her.'

'She knew that look. Any woman as attractive as Caroline knew that look. Two things struck you immediately about the man. He was obese and he was African-American. Grey hairs showed out of the top of a stained wife-beater. Strangely contrasting with two heavy gold chains worn around his neck. His beard was grey too but his head shaved. His eyes were almost hidden in folds of fat but she saw them glitter and then he smiled, showing three gold-capped teeth.'

'"You the one that Gregor called about?" His voice was lazy and heavily accented - at least to her English ears. "Well he didn't lie none about you. Real nice. But I'm running a business here." He held out one hand.'

'Caroline had left her bag safely in the DB12. It was Gucci after all. She was also well aware that places like this did not deal with cards. For them it was strictly a cash economy. She reached inside her jacket for the agreed sum of money in crisp bills and handed it over.'

'For the first time she saw a smile flicker across the man's face. He heaved himself up off his chair and moved round to casually push the outside door shut from he inside. There was a clear click but he turned the handle anyway and tested it.'

'The door was locked now and the man's smile broadened. He reached into his own pocket and produced a long strip of dark material. A pudgy finger indicated that she should turn her back to him. Caroline hesitated but the man just shrugged.'

'"That's fine but there ain't no refunds. You best be knowing that. If you're wanting I'll let you out but looking like that you'd best be hoping that driver of yours gets back fast. Not everyone around here is as friendly as me." His eyes were hard and his smile was a fixed one. It was clear that this was a man who couldn't abide fools and time-wasters.'

'She looked into his eyes. Gregor had recommended this place even if he had said it would be a step up from her previous adventurous evenings. She was beginning to understand what he had meant but she had also come to trust his judgement.'

'"What do you need me to do?" After asking the question she tried to meet his gaze. The man's flab made him look soft but such first impressions could lead you very much astray.'

'He stroked his chin with one hand and finally nodded. "OK then. First, I need you to turn around and take off that jacket. Second, from now on you just do as you're told and I guarantee you'll get your money's worth. Understand me girl?"'