Chapter 6
Deanna: The next several days were a blur; each day seemed endless as I waited for each assault. I came to think of every encounter with Lewis as just that -- an assault. I completely gave up trying to do my job. I had no ability to concentrate on anything other than the new reality I which was consuming me. I spent hours in my office with the door closed on the internet searching for some explanation of what I was experiencing.
I tried to convince myself that I was not alone in this new world. I looked incessantly for other women who could explain or even confirm the existence of the position I now found myself. The porn sites were full of cuckolded white husbands and black bulls ravaging their white hot-wives, but I found no mention of white whore wives enslaved by their black masters.
I know what you're thinking as you read this: if I want to be free, why not just go to the police and report Lewis as an abuser, guilty of assault at the very least. I know the reason and I'm sure you suspect it as well: I was completely entranced by Lewis, engulfed by his power over me and addicted to serving him in whatever way he deemed appropriate. What he was doing to me was not a crime. I was a willing participant in my subjugation. I wanted to be used and degraded. I loved being a slut. I loved being Lewis's slut.
The thought of whoring for Lewis left me very conflicted. I didn't ever see myself as a prostitute, not when I was fantasizing, not when I had been making love to Ted, not ever. I knew full well that prostitutes and prostitution existed, but I'd never had any direct experience with that world. I've never even seen a streetwalker in real life. Julia Roberts and Laura San Giacomo were all I knew of women who sold their bodies for sex and I knew that movie was far from the real world of hookers and johns.
For the first week, Lewis had me sleep at his apartment every other night. Those nights were filled with more fucking and sucking than I would have imagined possible from one man. Even after fucking me on in my office two or three times a day, Lewis would repeatedly fuck me throughout the night, just as he had the first night I spent with him. He beat me with that god-awful riding crop every night I spent with him, so my ass was not allowed to properly heal before it was bruised with angry red welts again. Toward the end of the week, he started beating my breasts with it as well, leaving my nipples battered and tender.
On alternate nights I was allowed to go home to Ted, although that was almost as painful as being beaten and savagely fucked by Lewis. I was very grateful for the rest and relief of being away from Lewis for at least a few hours, but Ted was completely falling apart. He badgered me incessantly, asking about Lewis and when he would get to meet the man who stole his wife from him. I told him repeatedly that I didn't know when Lewis would deign to introduce himself, if ever, which reduced Ted almost to tears with frustration. He showed me his cock cage and the havoc it was wreaking on his poor little white dick -- his skin was an angry shade of red from the abrasion of the tight plastic sheath and his inability to clean himself completely. I did some checking on the internet for him and let Ted know that the device was quite common in the cuckold community and that there were supposedly thousands of men around the country who spent months or even years locked into the nasty little devices. Part of me sympathized with Ted but a much bigger part of me pitied him, and my pity was turning to disgust.
Lewis: At Rodney's direction, I planned to have Deanna stay at my apartment every other night, so she didn't lose touch with her husband. According to Rodney, we would get a much better price for Deanna's time if she stayed married to Ted. Clients like to know they are fucking some poor white dickhead's wife, not just some random white slut that likes dark meat. Making sure Deanna had a place to go and someone to go home to was also key, as the day would come when I expanded my stable. I couldn't very well have Deanna living at my place while I was recruiting and training a new whore wife.
Rodney also said it was important for Deanna to keep her distance from me. Over the years he'd seen too many pimps get too close to their white whore wives and let emotions and other complications muddy the relationship. He wanted me to stay independent and focused.
