BITCH
BY: MOORE
Chapter One
CHRIS LOGAN was exhausted when the whistle blew signaling the end of another hard day in the laundry. Six months gone by and the work was still mindless, numbing; hours spent hauling endless heavy bundles of soiled sheets and towels between the washing machines and the dryers. Bundles that were far too heavy for Chris whose slight, small-boned body barely tipped the scales at 115 pounds. Asking for a transfer to the unit that washed the lighter loads of clothing and underwear meant yielding to the undisguised sexual advances of Jack Kentworth, the horrible man who supervised the facility. Others had done it, Chris knew, took care of Jack behind the closed door of his office in exchange for an easier job.
"I had to strip naked and kneel in front of the animal," one worker confided. "Then I had to open his pants, the smell was nauseating, and lick his balls until he got hard. Thank god he's got a small dick because he shoved the whole thing in my mouth like I was a two dollar whore."
One more blow job, Chris agonized silently for the hundredth time while running a comb through silky blond hair that hadn't been cut for six months. Hair grown out long enough now to wear in a pageboy style on the weekends or tie back in a girlish pony tail; golden hair that had been the envy of every girl in town.
What's one more blow job, one more sweaty man with hairy balls and a big hard penis for me to suck, one more mouthful of thick semen from Jack instead of Linc.
If that's all it took to get the transfer, Chris would have been kneeling between Jack Kentworth's legs weeks ago. But rumor had it, though nobody would admit it, that oral sex was only part of what Jack required.
Chris had a boy friend, a very jealous and protective boy friend named Lincoln White who might understand a blow job...Chris gave head to six of Linc's pals on a regular basis, but would be enraged if another man, white or black, tried to have intercourse with his bitch. The memory of their first meeting had not been forgotten.
"This here's my bitch," Linc had said, leading a shaken Chris away from the good old boys out to have some fun with the pretty new face in a sea of gloomy, grey faced men. "You shouldn't come out alone lookin' the way you do. Not without a friend or two to protect you from the assholes. Name's Lincoln White. My friends call me Linc. What's yours?"
"Chris, Chris Logan. It's my first day. I didn't know it would be like this. Those men were awful."
"Ain't no fancy hotel you checked into. Some of the guests ain't so fancy either as you were about to find out. Dangerous too, once they been here a while. Best you watch that ass of yours till you make a friend to watch it for you."
Tears had welled up in Chris' blue eyes then. Eyes that for 19 years had seen little but a small part of rural Pennsylvania, Amish Country, where girls and boys were sheltered from the corrupting influences of the outside world. Within the community everything, including sex, was tightly controlled. A few of the more inquisitive teenage boys ventured outside when they could sneak away. They came back and shared their adventures with a wide eyed audience of naive, but not totally unaware generation of Amish kids.
"Those horrible men said terrible things to me. They wanted me to do very bad things," Chris sobbed into Linc's offered shoulder, comforted somewhat by the black man's muscular arms. "Would you be my friend?"
The group of good old boys, white men all, watched in anger and frustration as the object of their collective sexual desire was lead away by Lincoln White. Protest was pointless. Blacks far outnumbered whites in the population for one thing, and Lincoln White, big and powerful as he was, was not a man to challenge. The few who tried ended up in the hospital with little memory of the very brief encounter.
"Goddamn niggers oughta fuck around with their own kind," Clem Yates said around a wad of chewing tobacco. "Won't find me plowin' no black pussy or shovin' my dick 'tween fat nigger lips."
"Bunch of bull I say," Billy Johnson countered. You know damn well that every man here'll fuck anything that'll hold still long enough. We've all done it, includin' you, Clem. A man's got needs and in this fuckin' place any hole's better'n nothin'."
"Speak for yourself, Billy. Don't you be accusin' every man of doin' what you alls are doin' with the whores. Me and Jeremiah, here, we ain't been participatin' in y'alls sinnin' activities. We got good women waitin' for us back home."
"You callin' me a sinner? I'll break your fuckin' head...."
"That's enough!! Back off, Billy. I said back off!" Sam West, the acknowledged leader of the group, stepped in quickly to defuse the situation before it turned ugly. "We've been over this before and we all took an oath respectin' each others decision in this matter. What we do here, under difficult conditions for any man, stays here...between us. We all got wives and sweethearts waitin' for us at home."
"Where are we going?" Chris asked as they rushed through yet another set of doors and down another deserted hallway.
Linc grasped the small hand more tightly as he picked up the pace, anxious to reach the little used storeroom where he could be alone with his prize. More convenient arrangements could be worked out later, Linc knew the right people who were willing to look the other way for a monetary consideration.
"We're here," he said, urging, almost pushing Chris into the room and flipping on the light. "Nice and private, thick walls too. Nobody hearin' or disturbin' us while we's gettin' friendly. Figure we got an hour before we're missed so's best not to waste any time."
Chris Logan, woefully unprepared to understand what was about to happen, and still shaken from the experience with the good old boys, smiled weakly when Linc smiled, even laughed a little when Linc laughed.
"Yup," Linc said with undisguised lust creeping into his voice as he unzipped his pants and let them fall to his feet, "Best not to waste any time."
Virgins, willing or otherwise Linc knew from experience, needed some time to adjust when first confronted with his huge coal black organ. Two minutes was about right as far as Linc was concerned. Time enough to persuade...one broken finger, never more than two, to persuade even the most reluctant ones to open up for a taste of his dick. Five minutes of sucking...gagging really...and, like magic, the legs spread wide open when Linc was ready to mount his new bitch.
"Done much the same with my sisters when they was growin' up...both a my bitch wives too," Linc boasted the following day to the men he pumped iron with. "See no need t' be makin' a change with this bitch."
Chapter Two
"Hey, bitch. Gonna suck your nigger man's cock tonight?" Clem Yates whispered in Chris' ear. "Gonna lay back and spead'em for your nigger's dick?"
Chris kept right on walking, past Clem and the rest of the good old boys, ignoring the insults that had grown more brazen over the past year. Bitch, pussy, cunt, cocksucker, whore. The words and the ribald laughter hardly bothered Chris any longer who, as everyone knew, had become all of those things and more since coming under Linc's protection. Revulsion and horror had been displaced over time with the acceptance of a new and unchangeable set of circumstances. Human beings, if nothing else, are an adaptable species.
The good old boys were green with envy each time they saw Chris sucking up to Linc. Powerless to do anything about it, envy turned to rage and condemnation that any self-respecting white person, male or female, would allow themselves to be so completely dominated by a black man.
Linc would bust a few heads if he heard them talking this way to his bitch, the only way they had to vent their anger, but Chris kept silent. If Linc got into trouble that protection might be lost and nothing would really change except for the color of the man Chris whored for.
Billy Johnson laughed. "Bitch's puttin' on some weight...gonna have a baby if you ask me."
The routine varied little from day to day, but this was new and the good old boys found it quite funny.
"Whose the daddy?"
"Some dumb nigger got confused lookin' for a warm place to piss. Who else be breedin' the bitch 'cept for niggers? Gonna be a nigger baby I tell ya, cryin' all the time. Y'know why?"
"I know why," Sam West piped up. "Cause the bitch got tiny tits, ain't gonna be makin' much milk. Baby's gonna suck nigger dick, eat nigger scum, same as its momma to keep from goin' hungry. Gonna be a fat nigger baby from eatin' so much cream."
Linc heard the laughter all the way across the courtyard. He paused briefly, saw Chris coming his way, and returned to the weights. "Gimme another twenty pounds on the bar," he said to his spotter. "Make it an even three hundred."
Linc's shirtless body glistened as he worked out in the afternoon sun. Chris handed him a towel when he was done, but Linc waved it off. The good old boys were watching and Linc liked nothing better than to use his bitch while they watched.
Chris knew well what was expected when Linc raised his arms and immediately went to work licking away the sweat. The smell and the taste of Linc's armpit was familiar, as was the smell and the taste of Linc's chest and thighs, testicles, penis and rectum. In private, every inch of Linc's massive body had enjoyed the little pink tongue at work.
"Do you want me to lick your balls, honey?"
"Didya hear that, Wilson?" Linc said to his pal. "The bitch is askin' to lick my balls. Any broad ever call you honey and ask to lick your balls?"
"Only in my dreams, big man. Only in my dreams."
"See what a little persuadin' will do?"
Linc glanced over to see if the good old boys were still there. "You can do my balls later, bitch," he said far louder than necessary. "Same time as you suckin' my big dick. Got some sweat on my belly though."
"Wear the red dress tonight and the white sandals," Linc said when his partial tongue bath was completed. "Don't be wearin' no panties cause I'll want you sittin' on my lap, ridin' my cock durin' the movie. Damn shame you got such tiny tits."
"I've been stretching them Linc, every night."
"Stuff somethin' in that frilly bra then, and wear plenty of red lipstick. Don't want my bitch mistook for one a them faggot boys with long hair."
Linc turned to Wilson. "You got a date for the movie tonight?"
"Shit, no, big man and I'm horny as a mule. Me and Greer's gonna meet up, like we always do. After we done jerkin' off, like we always do."
"What time was you plannin' on meetin?"
"Bout seven, I guess. Hang out for a while."
"Bitch!" Linc said sharply. "Listen up. I want you done early with your nails and make-up, lookin' real pretty. Then you go find Wilson and Greer. Take'em somewhere and give'em both a blow job. You got that, sweet lips?"
"I got it, Linc. Is it okay if I swallow?"
Chris blushed when Linc laughed and said, "Developin' a likin' for cum, baby? One year suckin' dick...yeah, sure, let'em both shoot off in your mouth and you can swallow."
"Jesus, thanks big man."
"Ain't nothing, Wilson, only don't you and Greer get any ideas 'bout fuckin' my bitch."
Shortly before seven o'clock, Greer and Wilson were pacing in front of the entrance to the movie theater. "What time is it?" Greer asked for the third time in as many minutes.
"How many times you gonna ask?" Wilson snapped back. "I'm just as horny as you."
"Sorry man. It's just I ain't had my cock sucked since leavin' the army. Ugly dude he was too, smelled like shit what with twenty guys in the barracks and only one cocksucker."
"Did ya get to fuck him?"
"Never could afford it but one time. One guy sort of owned his ass, rented it out, you know what I mean? Blow jobs cost five bucks, ten bucks to dick him up the ass. Funny what a horny guy'll do with another guy when there ain't no women around. What time is it."
Wilson let out a long whistle. "Time to get laid, Greer. Time to get laid."
"Hi, boys. Sorry I'm late."
Chris Logan looked like a movie starlet. The red dress was old but it fit like a second skin and the slit up the side revealed a flashy bit of smooth thigh. The hair and makeup, the glossy red lip gloss and matching nail polish...the whole package oozed sex. Greer lead the way around back and Wilson followed, his eyes fixed on the tight little ass in front of him. Linc had warned him not to fuck with his bitch, but...
Sheriff Edgar Clark allowed himself a tiny smile as he shifted his two hundred and forty pound body in a chair designed for a much smaller man. He'd been trying to get a confession for the past four hours and now, just after seven o'clock, success appeared to be at hand as the manacled prisoner was brought back after an hour in the cellblock.
"You ready to confess now, boy? Or maybe you need some more time to think about things...back in the cell."
Lynn McCowan was sobbing. Tears streaked down his soiled but still handsome face, dripped off his chin, creating a small puddle on the floor by his bare feet.
"You hear what I said, boy?"
Lynn shook his head yes, a lock of matted blond hair falling into his blue eyes, and then his whole body began to tremble which caused his torn shorts to slip even lower on his slender hips.
"No, please, don't send me back there," Lynn whisper through cracked and swollen lips. "I confess. I did it. I held up that liquor store, others too. Please don't send me back to those...they raped me."
Lynn McCowan, a cocky nineteen year old fugitive from New York City's Hell's Kitchen had been on a year long tear through Alabama and Mississippi, robbing out of the way liquor stores and gas stations. The New York police had a warrant out for his arrest and a thick file on Lynn dating back to when he was a hell-raising juvenile preying on the vulnerable men who came to Times Square looking for pretty young boys.
"A hundred bucks to suck my dick," he boasted to his friends in the ninth grade, "In advance. I only go with men wearing suits, staying at nice hotels like the Plaza or the Waldorf, and I make them strip naked before I'll even show them my cock."
Lynn was an angry boy. Angry at the girl's name he had to live with and angry at his good for nothing father who beat him and his mother when he wasn't falling down drunk. Lynn vented that anger by abusing the weak homosexual men, father figures, that paid him for sex.
"Makes me laugh watching a grown man take off his clothes and get on his knees because I tell him to do it. Some fags start crying when I open my zipper, some start jerking off. It's easy to take more money from the cocksucker's wallet after I cum in his mouth and all over his face. Most fags are so busy swallowing my load or jerking off to even notice what I'm doing."
He wasn't very cocky now that he'd been arrested or quite so confidant now that he'd been made to strip naked like the desperate men he used to hustle and made to get on his knees by the two large men who were sharing his cell.
Greer watched the blond head bobbing on his cock and sighed. "I'da never dumped the bitch I married if she could suck this good. Same color hair she had too, 'cept for the black roots, can't hardly tell this bitch is...what you doin' back there, Wilson?"
"This bitch is a natural blond," Wilson said, pushing the red dress up higher to expose more of the softest buttocks he'd felt in a very long time. Linc will never know, he thought, closing his eyes and easing his erection into forbidden territory.
"You doin' what I think you're doin? Feels damn good, huh?"
Wilson kept his eyes closed. Looking at Greer right now would ruin the illusion.
"The whores in Viet Nam used to take on GI's two at a time. Front and back, just like we doin' now. Fuckin' and suckin' we called it. Nearly got killed one time doin' it to a village girl when we was out on patrol. Chink guy went nuts seein' how we was usin' the bitch, woulda shot us dead if my buddy didn't shoot him first. Shot the chink bitch too, he did, we all got done usin' her to get off. Ain't gonna shoot this white bitch, though, huh Wilson? 'Cept fulla spunk."
"How was the blow job?" Linc asked as Greer settled into his seat and Chris, loaded with Wilson's sperm, settled happily on to his stiff cock.
"Best cocksucker in the joint, Linc. You are one lucky man and one great friend. Wilson'll be along shorty, he's gettin' the popcorn."
Lynn McCowan, after giving a lengthy statement confessing all of his numerous crimes to Sheriff Clark, was returned to the cellblock. His new friends greeted him with naked lust in their eyes.
"Let the boys have their fun with him over the weekend," Clark said to his deputy. Serve the son of a bitch right, all the robberies he's pulled...people he's hurt. I'll be home tonight if something comes up."
"Yes sir, Sheriff," Dwayne responded smartly with a snappy salute.
"Ease up, boy," Clark said. You're not in the army anymore.
"Sorry, Sheriff. Old habits die hard. I'll have the prisoner's statement typed and on your desk in the morning."
Dwayne Young, an MP for three years, worked diligently for the next two hours. He badly needed this job, the only one offered after his honorable discharge from the army. Budgets were tight all over the country in these difficult economic times and few police departments were hiring. He felt bad when he looked in on his prisoners and saw what they were doing to the young boy. Not so bad that he would risk his job by disobeying the sheriff's orders, and not so bad that he didn't feel just a little turned on by watching the good looking kid suck one cock while the other was reaming his ass.
They were still going at it..."Please don't fuck me again" being hard to mistake, when Dwayne finally completed his work. Typing was not Dwayne's long suit. The original report and one of the polaroids he placed on the Sheriff's desk, a copy with the second photo of Lynn McCowan went into the files.
Chapter Three
Dwayne Young was unable to explain why he looked at the Logan file. "Just did," he told Perry Harnsworth, the district attorney, the following morning. "When I saw the picture I thought somebody had made a mistake. When I read the file I was sure of it. See for yourself, sir."
Harnsworth was visibly shaken after thoroughly reading both files and comparing the two pictures. "Holy shit," he said, turning his ashen face towards the Sheriff who wasn't looking to good himself. "The trial was over a year ago."
"The suspect claimed he was innocent but we had an eye witness, Perry," Clark said nervously. "She testified in court that she saw the defendant knock out the clerk and clean out the register."
Harnsworth was not mollified. Eyewitnesses were often unreliable and according to the file this witness had been an eighty year old woman. "Call Judge Wilcox," he shouted to his secretary. "I know he plays golf on Saturday, find him and tell him to expect my call. And have my car brought around. We have to get out there, quick. I'll call Wilcox from the car."
Lynn McCowan heard the sirens as he was hauled out of his bunk. "Please, no more," he said weakly, knowing by the look on their faces that his plea was falling on deaf ears.
"Hurts less if you get it wet first. Didn't you learn anything from yesterday?"
Much of Lynn's nude body was scratched and stained with blood from the multiple forced penetrations he'd suffered the previous day and throughout most of the night. His anus was rubbed raw, bruised and swollen beyond recognition.
"Please, don't fuck me again. My ass is killing me."
"Should we give the kid a break?"
"I'd settle for a blow job, but the kid's a lousy cocksucker. Nah, let's fuck the pussy some more."
"I'll suck better," Lynn cried out in desperation. "I promise."
"On your knees, pussy boy. We'll see how good you can suck dick."
"On your knees, bitch. We only got time for a blow job. I'll fuck that sweet pussy of yours this afternoon."
Chris Logan heard the sirens while swallowing the last spurt of Linc's semen...carefully, so as not to get any sperm on the new red dress that Linc had paid five dollars for. Linc heard them too as his orgasm waned.
"Ain't nobody can suck dick good as you," Linc said as Chris kissed away a smudge of lipstick from the tip of his penis. "Somethin' big must be happenin' outside. Would ya listen to all them sirens.
Chapter Four
After a swift trial and conviction, Lynn McCowan was incarcerated in the state penitentiary. His blond good looks quickly attracted the unwanted attention of the population. He was assigned to a cell and with a little "friendly encouragement" from his cellmate, Lincoln White, he began to wear the dresses and use the make up left behind by the cell's previous occupant. Long before Lynn's blond hair grew long enough to tie back in a pony tail, Linc announced that Lynn was just as good a cocksucker as Chris Logan had been.
Christopher Logan was released after a year in prison. He refused to cut his hair before leaving. In one pocket of the ill-fitting suit he had been given to wear was a short letter from the governor apologizing for the terrible mistake that had been made, two hundred dollars in cash, and a bus ticket to New York City. In another pocket was the address of an apartment near Times Square.
He ditched the suit, the governors letter, and his old persona, in in the dressing room of a thrift shop shortly after the bus arrived at New York's Port Authority. The clerk, a young man with green spiked hair and a half pound of metal adorning his head, collected all of the things Chris asked for and brought them to the dressing room. He watched with growing interest as the long haired naked boy began to dress, cursing under his breath when he had to return to the front to answer the phone.
"You can pay me the difference in Times Square currency," the clerk said when Chris realized he didn't have enough money to pay for all of his purchases. "A blow job, sweetheart. Just off the bus from the sticks, but I'm sure you know how to suck dick."
The apartment was on the second floor of an old four story walk-up on Ninth Avenue. Chris carefully checked his hair one last time for any remaining sperm before ringing the bell.
"Chris Logan," he said to the well dressed black man who answered the door. "Lincoln White sent me."
George White was a pimp. He operated a flourishing escort service which provided beautiful girls and boys, nieces and nephews if you will, to accompany wealthy men around town. Secretly homosexual men, middle aged for the most part and too insecure to be seen in public with a teenaged boy that they desperately wanted to sleep with, paid dearly for the company of a beautiful girl whom no one would ever suspect was really a beautiful boy.
George White stared wide eyed at Chris Logan for several minutes before speaking. "Linc's bitch, 'bout time you got here, pussy boy."
Chris smiled his sweetest smile and followed the man inside.
George settled himself into a chair and lit a cigarette. "Okay, let's see what you look like. Lose the dress, bitch."