Treasure

Hey all! This is my first attempt at the Nonconsent/Reluctance category. It is an interracial tale between men of multiple races and a black woman. This is a stand alone story & I'm not anticipating a prequel or sequel. I don't have an editor, so I expect the complaints of "you spelled this wrong" or "your grammar sucks". Whatever – I know my short comings, and my biggest thing is making sure that the story flows and doesn't get jarred my screw ups.

Without further ado... Here is

Treasure

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Blackness.

I see nothing but blackness. My eyes search for light, but nothing registers. I blink and see absolutely... nothing. In this stifling darkness hands find me. Feminine fingers caress my skin reassuringly.

But I don't know whose they belong to, nor do they tell me.

A sudden whisper fills my left ear, telling me "Don't fight this. Please just go along with this, or he'll be so pissed."

Fuck. I recognize that voice. As far gone as I am, my heavily intoxicated mind realizes that the woman I once had as a bridesmaid for my now defunct marriage is whispering in hushed tones about becoming willing.

Willing for what?

Cold steel suddenly grips my naked wrists and strong hands force my arms high over my head. The temperature feels like it has dropped by about ten degrees. Maybe its my anxiety over this complete mind fuck of a situation.

The whispering has ceased and Misty's tender fingers are gone. A grunt of exertion assaults my ears, and fuzzy realization comes slowly to my mangled senses. My friend Misty has set me up. She talked all night to some guy and I thought when they briefly looked in my direction that they were just looking so he could see who she came with to party tonight.

Or tomorrow. Not really sure of time at this moment.

My nipples pebble while I make this painfully slow journey down memory lane. The only thing I remembered of the man were his eyes. They were gray – and looked like steel. I remembered a cold shiver steal over my spine from the look he gave me. It was something that I couldn't put my finger on. I think it was a look of ownership. Ownership of me.

That seemed like some slave shit – and while my skin may be dark from ancestors who lived and died in such a peculiar institution, this is 2012 and it just won't go down like that. I never met this man, but I knew his name was Joseph. Or Peter. It was the name of some saint – no, it was Andrew. He had such a nice name. Not the kind of name associated with a deviant psychopath.

Being in my own head is really fucking with me, because I can hear breathing, and the removal of clothing. I can feel the muscles in my arms and neck tensing because of the extreme position that they are in due to these damned restraints. I can also feel that my dark body is naked, and that as drunk as I am, I'm simply not drunk enough to not know what the fuck is about to happen. To know that I can't stop it. That realization, coupled with the whispered plea for me not to fight by a person who has been there for me since our junior high outcast days is helping to deteriorate my mental capacity with alarming speed.

Shit! I thought my cottonmouth feeling was because I was drunk as hell, but apparently wonder douchebag & his trusty sidekick, the bitch who fucking backstabbed me, have put a muzzle on me. This shit is seriously Hannibal Lecter – far the fuck beyond fucked up and downright dangerous. My eyes frantically search for something to focus on and comes up with a big fat – nothing. Nothing but my other addled senses trying to figure this whole complex story out.

Carefully, carefully I can piece together some music. Its something rock, something melancholy. I really just thought 'melancholy'? Wow, maybe my mind isn't that fucked up. At three sheets to the wind, words like 'melancholy' don't come to me naturally. Its usually just the random cursing, and stupid incoherent shit that rises from to my semi lucid mental state – which since my sham of a marriage has been happening more frequently than before.

So if I'm able to think clearly, and know that I am in my body, and in my senses then that means a couple of things. A) I'm not drunk at all, but I've been drugged, B) Misty helped the guy she was with do this to me, and of course the final conclusion of C) he's gonna take what he wants from me and I hope to God that it isn't what I think it is.

Apparently because me and The Almighty haven't been on speaking terms since my divorce, he's not answering my silent pleas for someone to stop the madness about to take place. A spotlight finally hits me and blinds me temporarily. I still can't see where I am, but the extension of my senses helps me to realize that I'm laying on some bench – a short bench where my ass is barely hanging onto the edge. I also realize that I am not alone. Mr. Andrew the Wicked has joined me in this cold room. He isn't alone though.

As I look around the room, I notice that it is filled with men. White men. Some hispanic men. A couple black men. Several Asian men. All these men are wearing black, and holding a white candle. A burning white candle in each man's hand, except for Andrew's. Andrew is naked. He's pretty easy on the eye, except for that long hard erection hanging between his legs. That thing looks like a fucking monster.

I hear whimpering again, and look off to my immediate right. It's Misty, but something is different about her. She's usually ebullient, and effervescent. She's a downright charmer – hell the woman works as a VP in sales for a pharmaceutical corporation. This isn't the same woman though. She's withdrawn, and not holding a candle. She looks like someone roughed her up a bit. Knowing her background in martial arts, I have a hard time reconciling this fact to what I can see. She's whimpering and maybe bleeding, and it's that sound that scares me more than these assholes watching my naked chained body breathe.

Andrew begins talking to the group of men, but its in a different language. Misty apparently knows the language, because when he concludes his little speech, she is wide eyed and looks scared for me. If I could scream my damn head off I would, but I swear on everything I love that I can't. The muzzle coupled with the fear of the unknown & his wicked intentions have stripped me of my voice.

Andrew comes closer to me, but he's holding a knife. His intent is clear when he brings it up to my face, then traces it down my naked form. If I move, I die. Painfully & slowly. The whole time this metal object outlines my breasts, belly and pussy, his eyes focus on mine – sharp gray to frightened brown. A wicked smile plays on his slightly plump pink lips and serve to show his eagerness towards my pain rather than his good looks.

He places the knife down on the floor next to me, and his cold hands slowly spread across my body. I squeeze my eyes shut while his fingertips pinch, pluck and pull my already hardened nipples. They hurt so fucking bad that I whimper. The instant the noise passes from my lips my head is jerked suddenly back by my hair and his crazed visage assaults my face.

"Don't make a sound." was his whispered threat. I cower at the violence behind his eyes and blink as the tears that formed in my eyes have finally spilled. I flinch when he removes his hand to gently wipe the tear streaks that leak into my ears. Soft kisses fall onto my cheek, next to my lips. His lips nibble from my chin down to my left nipple and a hand slides down to cup and roll a breast briefly before settling between my opened thighs and slowly stroking my opening.

I am training my body to not react to his touch. I am determined to not get wet for this man. He is not deserving of my body, and should feel no right to be inside me in any way. His intentions however were that my body would be easily trained to do his bidding – and as determined as I was to not react to his touch, my body betrayed me.

How does one begin to explain the war between the sensations of the body and the thoughts of the mind? How the hell does one begin to fathom the depths of despair when the last vestiges of hope to end this eternal and internal conflict result in the complete failure of all reason? Reason would dictate that I could control my body and its sensations. But the fact that this monster can make me so wet so easily, by playing with my cunt and licking my tits when I don't want to react to his onslaught leaves logic by the wayside.

After mere minutes of toying with my prone shackled form, my hips buck and my stomach seizes, while my body tries to milk nonexistent ejaculate from his fingertips. He smiles around the nipple that he's still sucking on and brings up the two fingers to present the evidence of his masterful achievement of will over mind to the awaiting audience. The men murmur in agreement. One of the men asks Andrew a question, again in that strange language. Andrew nods his assent, and within seconds I feel a pair of lips gently kiss and lick the remanants of my arousal. I try to look down, but again, my head is jerked back violently. I lie still, staring into those metallic eyes while I feel the slight stubble of facial hair graze and rub against my sensitized mound while lips belonging to a man other than Andrew pleasure my girlie parts.

I dare not whimper, or make a sound is the message clear in Andrew's eyes. My eyes slide shut and I come hard all over this other strangers lips. A third pair of hands, tickle and rub my side as a new mouth encloses over a nipple. A fourth pair of hands place a blindfold over my eyes before my mouth is forced open and a hard cock is slipped in. The hands, teeth, lips and tongues that touch, bite, lick and finger my various orifices and body parts keep me in a constant state of arousal. The man fucking my mouth shudders, and I feel his hot cum fill up my mouth. Andrew whispers to me, "Drink it, my sweet."

Wanting to avoid further pain, I dutifully close my lips and swallow the seed down my throat. A mouth kisses me, and tastes the cum I just swallowed. My body is uncontrollable in the wild sensations of rampant sex that it imbibes freely now. Another cock fills my mouth, with a different taste, texture and smell. It is rammed repeatedly down my thoat causing me to gag violently around it, and I am turned on my side to vomit the remants of my nights meal of Chile Colorado and the cum I had just swallowed earlier. Hands soothe and caress me and that dick does not make another appearance for the night. Hours have passed by now, and my body is spent from the amounts of cum that I have given and received. In everything that has happened, no man has penetrated my pussy or ass with his dick.

The mask is removed from my weary eyes, and as I adjust to the light, the men are back into their positions, with one missing. Misty is still looking at me forlornly, but there is a hint of jealously behind her eyes as well. If she would like to trade places, then my black ass was surely willing to do just that. Only Andrew is next to me. I didn't think it possible, but his dick was harder then it was before all that time had passed. The best way to describe this man's cock would be as a pussy breaker. It was large, cut, and had a thick mushroom head. My pussy was sopping wet, and even in the state that I was in, I swear that the only thought I had in my head was "will that monster fit?".

I made the mistake of looking up at him, and he smiled at me. It was warm and genuine. He settled between my thighs and lined up his cock with my wet pussy. He leaned forward just before entering me, and whispered, "Don't hold back beautiful." With those words he plunged forward slowly and ceaselessly. He filled me up to beyond capacity. Once he settled his body inside mine, he paused so we could adjust to the other – him to my wet tightness, and me to his hard thickness.

He kept those steel colored eyes trained on me, as he fucked me incoherent. I screamed each time I came, and I noticed that many of the men had taken their cocks out and were openly stroking them while Andrew fucked me. Soon, his dick was sawing in and out of me so quickly that it looked like a blur to my still semi-fuzzy senses. Suddenly his cock expanded as he pushed himself entirely inside me, bumping into my cervix. He grunted out loud, and I felt his ejaculate empty into my semi-willing body.

Gingerly he stroked himself down to softness in my body, as I heard the groans and grunts from the other men in the room. Andrew bent his head down to my opening and ate the remnants of our cum out of my sore abused pussy. He brought himself up to me and kissed me fiercely before leaving me alone with the masturbating men. As each man got close to ejaculating, they would get close to some part of my still prone body and ejaculate on me. By the time the last man had finished cumming on my body, my face, breasts, stomach and pussy were covered in cum. My beautiful natural hair, which was braided into neat cornrows, were soaked. I couldn't open my eyes without the ejaculate running into them. I felt filthy.

Feminine hands released the handcuffs and assisted me in standing up. Walking proved to be difficult, and Andrew came back into the room, freshly showered in a towel and picked me up to take me into the luxurious bathroom. He bathed my drenched body, and toke down my cornrows and washed my hair slowly and gently while nibbling on my ears. Once I had been thoroughly cleaned he placed a 1" thick diamond collar necklace on my neck and led me, naked save for the new jewelry, back into the room with the men with a hand on the small of my back. The place where I laid was an altar of sorts. All the men placed their candles on it.

"So you are all intrigued by my little Tiffany?" was Andrew's question to the room. I schooled myself to not look at him, because I should have known that he would know everything about me from Misty. Andrew brought his head close to mine, and said aloud to the group that his beauty has pleased him greatly.

"However. Li would do well to know her vast treasures." A handsome asian man of indeterminate age, and indescribable beauty came forward. "For your obedience Tiffany, you may enjoy as much time as you want with Li." said Andrew. His face never showed emotion, but his steel colored eyes had softened. Li took my hand and gently took it too his lips, staring intently into my eyes as he did so. It carefully grazed over the stubble of his facial hair, and just as I realized that he was the first man to bring about my most sensational orgasm of the night, he led me off to another room where he spent copius amounts of time bringing me to orgasm for the rest of evening.

After hours of time spent, Li took me back to another room where Andrew waited. He was dressed in a pair of black silk pants. His body was simply amazing – sculpted and strong. I had a hard time standing up from the intense session with the very talented Li.

"Did you enjoy your time with my friend, Tiffany?" asked Andrew as he poured some amber colored liquid into two glasses filled with ice. I didn't realize that Li had slipped out of the room until I heard the soft click of the heavy wooden door.

Oh shit. I was alone with the psycho who allowed a bunch of dudes to come all over me. And he raped me. And made me like it. Fucker. What the hell did his crazy ass have in store for me now?

"Um, yeah." I whispered.

"When I ask you a question, you need to answer me properly. My name is Andrew or Master. I prefer Andrew because I find you quite...intoxicating. When I ask you anything, you answer me clearly and say my name. Do you understand Tiffany?"

"Yes, Andrew." I answered.

The whole time that this "conversation" happened, my eyes stayed on the floor because I couldn't look into his eyes. They pierced me and made me shiver horribly every time I looked into them. His voice was soft the entire time. It was a really awful feeling – knowing that the menace was there but not hearing it. Geez this dude could really mind fuck a girl.

The room went silent before I felt him behind me. I was still naked, save for the diamond collar. Though I had been wonderfully fucked by Li, Andrew's mere presence was sending shivers not only through my body, but through my pussy. Jerk.

I was thoroughly shocked to feel the coldness of the glass pressed against the middle of my warm back. His stiff cock poked my ass. I stifled a startled scream, because I wasn't sure if Andrew would force me to keep quiet. "Does that feel good Tiffany?" he breathed into my right ear.

Feeling the coldness of the glass and the heat eminating from his massive frame, I shook my head in compliance with his question. I then felt the roots of my hair being jerked forcefully back and my body bent to his assault.

"I don't read sign language, my little dark angel. Answer me." Again in that voice.

"Yes, yes Master." I frantically answered, willing the splitting pain from my scalp.

He smiled that devastating smile and let go of my scalp, trailing his hands through the long tresses of my raven hair. He took the ends into a firm grip and tugged my body close to his. His breath caressed my neck as his lips came closer to their intended target. The smell of sweet alcohol wafted up my nostrils, and made my senses go hazy. A hand that once held a glass stroked my warm tummy, again shocking my heated body. I stifled my scream, and felt him smile against my neck. The other hand, still clutching a cold glass, was brought close to my right nipple. The cold wet glass abraided my other exposed nipple. The feeling of extreme cold plucking and tugging on one nipple, while the other nipple was being rubbed by the cold glass, felt heady.

My juices started to slowly seep out of my core. His chest shook lightly against my back as his nose picked up the scent of my arousal.

"You are so responsive, aren't you sweetie?" whispered Andrew into the ear he lightly nibbled on.

A breathy "Yes" emerged from my lips. The hand tweaking my nipple traced lightly down my abdomen and stroked my pussy lips. A sigh escaped my lips as my head moved to give him more access to my neck.

I was too far gone into his sexually charged web to realize that I had given complete control of my desire and satisfaction to a man who was a perfect stranger. All I cared about was that this stranger named Andrew would continue playing with my body until I could cum again. I didn't worry about his troubling dominant edge, his quick flights of controlled rage, nor the pleasure he took in asserting his ownership of my very being. All I was was a slave to my own sexual desires.

The knowledge of that should have woken up the silly slut that took over my body. Unfortunately her bitch ass was too busy getting some to even be bothered with troublesome logic. He was driving my body faster to climax before he suddenly pushed me over and slammed the entire 10" length of his hardness into my prone body.

He slowly stroked my pussy, allowing my body enjoy the pleasure of the friction he created. Cold reddened fingertips fiercely gripped my dark hips as he rode the living hell out of me. One hand traced up my back and settled over my asshole before a thumb was pushed in. The same time the thumb entered me, my pulsating clit was being rubbed and stroked fiercely.

Completely short circuited by the overwhelming sensations, my pussy walls contracted fiercely on his rapidly advancing and retreating shaft. He never relented, even upon hearing my screams of desire. The hand on my ass traced my arched back and gently fisted the ends of my hair to arch my back further for his pleasure. Hammering into me, he brought his face to my neck and breathed, "Is this how you like it pretty girl? Hmm? Hard fast and deep in that pretty brown pussy of yours?"