Chapter 4
Lewis: I drove Deanna to my apartment and fucked her as soon as we arrived. She was much more subdued than the previous night which was understandable. I let her sleep and I got some shuteye as well, as I knew Sunday would be a big day for both of us.
As the sun rose, I fucked Deanna again and then cradled her in my arms. She drifted back to sleep, and I thought about how to explain to her the changes that were about to take place. Rodney had very clear instructions about training white whore wives for his clientele and I was not about to disappoint him. I was his first pimp protégé and I wanted to make absolutely sure that I was fully prepared to be his first success as well.
An hour later Deanna started to stir in my arms, and I fucked her again. Make no mistake; there was no love-making taking place in any of this. I fucked her, plain and simple, with no regard to her comfort or pleasure, but with total regard for my own. Rodney had been very clear about that. His clients, rich and sophisticated as they were, had little interest in a whore that didn't know their place. The last thing they wanted was a bitch who complained or whined about them being to rough or being selfish or whatever. Deanna had to learn that love-making was no longer a part of her life. Sex, down and dirty, rough and savage, was the only item on the menu, and the sooner she got used to that fact the sooner we could put her in the field.
As Deanna slipped from my arms to use the toilet, I reached in my nightstand and pulled out a cock cage for her husband. I laid it on her pillow and waited for her to return.
"What the hell is that?" she said as she climbed back into the bed and I slapped her again, harder than the night before. "What was that for?" she asked in total shock and I reached for her. She backed away from me and I settled back into the bed.
"In the top drawer of my dresser is a riding crop," I said calmly. "Get it and bring it to me."
She stared at me for a few seconds without moving until I feigned reaching for her again, and she stumbled over to the dresser and opened the top drawer. She stared at the contents of the drawer for several seconds without saying a word. Finally, she picked up the black leather riding crop and, carrying it to the bed as if it might burst into flames any moment, she handed it to me.
"Five strokes for disrespecting me just now. Bend over the chair."
She gave me a bewildered look and I nodded toward the wooden chair at my desk. Slowly she bent over it as I climbed out of the bed.
Without warning and before she could flinch, I hit her ass hard with the crop, raising an angry red welt on each cheek. She screamed and stood up and turned and backed away from me, tears flowing and her mouth moving but not making any coherent sounds.
