The Secret of D.A.A.L.S.  (1 of 2)
-- by lightswitch © December 2007

[(F/F, F+/F, lesbian), reluctant/forced, interracial, black
female, white female, domination, bondage]

===========
Synopsis: A Private Investigator is hired by a local reporter to
probe into a mysterious group known only as D.A.A.L.S.
===========

“I’m telling you,” the attractive brunette visitor warned Drew,
“it can’t be a coincidence!  Since June of 2007, the number of
women going missing – in this area and around the country – has
skyrocketed! In fact, these disappearances have also risen in
most of Europe, Australia, and the former Soviet Union countries!
All of this happened at exactly the same time as this
organization that calls itself D.A.A.L.S. appeared!”

Drew stifled a cynical laugh. On one hand, she had no interest in
wasting her time on crackpot conspiracy theories. On the other
hand, it wasn’t as if her Private Detective Agency had been
inundated with paying customers, of late, either.

And this wasn’t just any crackpot: The pretty nutjob in question
was Sabrina West, a popular and well-known reporter for Channel 5
-- rumored to be in the running for an anchor spot.  She
certainly had the looks for it, and the ambition.

But could the pretty news-woman really believe that this … theory
… of hers was going to be her ticket to the big time?

“D.A.A.L.S. …,” Drew repeated, taking notes. “And what does that
stand for, Ms West?”

The reporter looked chagrined.

“I … I don’t know, yet,” she admitted. “But surely you can see
that the timing is just too close to be coincidence! Plus, I’ve
been hearing whispers about this group … about some militant
agenda they have. I don’t know what the relation is, but I’m sure
there’s some tie in!”

“You … don’t know … what D.A.A.L.S. stands for?” the blonde PI
asked, her voice hovering between being incredulous and
dismissive.

The reporter blushed and Drew sighed.

The news-chick came in here with improbable conspiracy theories
and she didn’t even know the acronym of the group she was making
accusations about. Drew knew that she’d love to take this
beautiful yuppie’s money, but … there just wasn’t a case to work
on, here.

“Ms West,” the blonde detective said, trying to keep her tone
interested and professional, “there may have been a slight uptick
in disappearances, but …”

“Uptick?!?” Sabrina interrupted. “I have a friend down at the
precinct and I’ve seen the statistics!”

Drew raised an eyebrow. “Your friend showed you confidential
police data?” she asked, dubiously.

The pretty reporter blushed, but her brow remained furrowed.

“No,” she stammered, defensively, “she didn’t *show* it to me,
exactly …”  Sabrina grimaced. “OK, she didn’t show it to me, at
all. I was snooping, looking for story leads, and I found it!”
She pulled a rolled up sheaf of papers from her bag and spread
them in front of the skeptical PI.

“See?” Sabrina said. “Look at the numbers before June of 2007 and
after.”

Drew scanned the illicitly photocopied police report. This
reporter woman obviously had no compunction about crossing the
line, in pursuit of a story!

Drew was somewhat surprised to see that there *was* a marked
increase in reported disappearances – about eight times the
previous rate! “And these are only *reported* disappearances,”
the investigator thought. “How many more might not have been
reported?”

“There have been a lot of groups that have been organized in that
period,” Drew pointed out. “What makes you think there’s some
sort of tie-in between these disappearances and *this* one?”

Sabrina gave her a earnest look. “Because a few of these women
showed up again,” she said. “And they were … changed. Some made
passing reference to this D.A.A.L.S. group, when questioned, and
that’s how I found out about them.”

Drew mulled over this new information. Was it possible? Could it
be that this unknown organization actually did have some tie-in
with an increase in missing women?

“Of course not,” she laughed to herself. “But, at least there’s
enough info to actually make an investigation, now. I can put in
a few days, debunk the news-chick’s wild anxieties and pocket a
few hundred in billable hours and expenses!”

The blonde PI nodded. “My fee is $125 per day, plus expenses. I
should be able to gather enough info within three days to either
determine if your suspicions have reasonable cause or not, or
provide an estimate on how much additional effort it will take.”

“It may go as high as $3,000,” Drew warned.

The reporter nodded and plopped down a stack of bills.

“Five thousand dollars,” she said. “Use this as a retainer. You
can keep the full amount, no matter how long it takes, so the
sooner you can close the case, the bigger your profit.”

Drew smiled.

This might prove to be interesting -- and profitable -- after
all!

* * * * *

It had been less than 48 hours and the case *was* turning out to
be more interesting than Drew had first anticipated.

*Was* there a connection between this D.A.A.L.S. group and the
dramatic increase in missing women? Drew had no idea. But she was
intrigued to discover how little information was available on
this mysterious group.

The group had no formal registrations with the city, state, or
any industry bureau. No advertising. No telephone directory
listing.  She wouldn’t have known for sure they existed, except
that one of the contacts that Sabrina West had provided had
worked for a catering company – and they had had receipts for a
D.A.A.L.S. event, a while back. A “Black and White Ball” … Drew
assumed it was some sort of formal dance event.

The formerly missing girl, herself, wouldn’t say anything.
Neither would the girl’s new roommate. But the catering company
had the address in its invoice records.

Drew was surprised to discover that the address belonged to a
large office building, in a prime location, downtown. This bit of
real estate was in an expensive locale and it appeared that the
whole building was leased to this D.A.A.L.S. group! Strangely,
the building sported no signs or logos … Drew could find no
indication anywhere identifying the group who used the premises.

Nor any indication of the group’s purpose.

“Curious … !” the pretty blonde whispered, as she scoped the
expansive marble lobby.  The huge open space was empty except for
an attractive receptionist at the front desk and a burly security
guard. The receptionist was a lovely, young black woman who was
impeccably groomed and dressed.  The security guard was a
muscular black woman in mirrored sunglasses who never smiled.

“Card access doors to the interior of the building,” Drew noted.

Members only, it seemed.  “I wonder why?” she mused.

She would have to find a way in.

High-tech breaking and entering tactics were fine in television
shows and movies such as Mission Impossible, but Drew knew that
the most effective methods were easy, low-tech options.

She bided her time, waiting in the lobby until almost 1 p.m. At
that time, knots of women started gathering, sliding their cards
at the door readers to re-enter the interior of the building.

“Thank God for lunch crowds!” she thought, casually joining a
large group of women, as they laughed and chatted amongst
themselves.  She tailgated a legitimate cardholder and strolled
past the security doors, into the hallways of D.A.A.L.S.

Unfortunately, the women in the group she’d tailgated stopped and
eyed her suspiciously.

Not just one … but the entire group of women.

“Do they know I’m not an employee or member?” Drew wondered,
suppressing an anxious tic. Impossible!  In a building of this
size, it would be virtually inconceivable for *anyone* to know
*every* other authorized person!  It would also be virtually
impossible that many of the authorized employees or members would
even care who came or went.

And yet … the entire group of about a dozen women had all stopped
and were looking at her, suspiciously.

Drew gave a weak smile and tried to turn down the other way, in
the corridor … only to run into the broad, uniformed chest of the
burly security guard.

“You’re not supposed to be here,” the guard told her, icily.

Drew was momentarily taken aback. Was everyone here psychic?!?
How the hell could they *know* Drew didn’t belong here?!?

The pretty PI decided to bluff.

“Oh, it’s OK,” she laughed, trying to push past the unsmiling
guard. “I’m a new member.”

The guard gave a half-step to the right, blocking the PI’s way.

“Member?” the big woman asked.

Drew gulped, but forced a smile. “Yes,” she chirped. “You know …
in D.A.A.L.S.?”

The muscular guard gave her a long, hard stare that felt even
harsher, hidden behind the mirrored sunglasses.

“You know D.A.A.L.S.?” the guard asked. Drew swallowed, unable to
decide if that was surprise, menace, or both she had heard in the
big woman’s voice. “And you’re a member?!?”

Drew nodded, smiling gamely.  “Was there a reason she shouldn’t
know about D.A.A.L.S.?” she wondered, nervously.

“It’s impossible, ma’am,” the big sentinel informed her.

Drew fought a growing feeling of anxiety. How could this woman
*possibly* know that?!? How could the guard rebut Drew’s claim
with such confidence?!? She hadn’t even check any rosters or
databases!

Although, if she did, Drew knew she would be sunk.

She stoically stayed with her bluff.

“Oh, well,” the blonde PI laughed, “I guess I should say that I
*am looking* to join! A friend of mine is a member and she just
*raves* about it! She urged me to come down and sign up, as
well!”

The burly guard looked at her impassively.

“Come with me, ma’am,” she directed, guiding her towards a room
to the right.

Drew entered the room as directed, trying to formulate a
believable cover story in he rmind.

It was a bare room – tiled floor rather than carpet, painted
cinder block walls. No windows – just a large mirror on the far
wall.

Drew heard a click and turned to find herself alone, with the
door closed.

“A holding area?” Drew thought, nervousness fluttering close to
outright panic. “What have I stumbled into, here?!?”

The pretty blonde casually strolled to the mirror and pretended
to adjust her hair.  “You don’t suppose …?” she wondered.

She pretended to admire the mirror, brushing a finger against its
surface.

Her fingertip touched its reflection, with no gap between.

“Two-way mirror,” she deduced. “What the *hell* is this?!?  What
kind of organization has its own *holding area,* complete with an
adjoining observation room?!?  What kind of group is so
tight-knit that they can spot an outsider instantly?!?”

Had she stumbled onto some kind of government operation? FBI?
CIA?

Something worse, perhaps? A cult? A terrorist cell?

Her mouth felt dry and she realized she might be in serious
trouble.

The door opened and a woman stepped in. She was a stunningly
beautiful black woman, dressed in a crisp business-suit dress.
The newcomer stood almost 6 feet tall and was exquisitely
proportioned.

“Hello,” the woman smiled warmly. “I’m Samantha Black, Operations
Director for D.A.A.L.S.” She extended a hand and gave Drew a warm
handshake. “And you are …?”

“Jeri,” Drew lied, “Jeri Joels.”

Ms Black smiled, showing an expanse of bright white, even teeth.
“Ms Joels,” she nodded. “First, let me apologize for the delay;
we sometimes get disturbed, racist people who believe they can
vent their frustrations and bigotry through malicious acts, so we
err on the side of caution.

Drew nodded, feigning comprehension.

Bigotry …? Racist …?

In a flash, Drew realized how she’d been busted!  Every other
person in the building had been black!  She had been the only
Caucasion on the premises, so she had stood out like a Klansman
at the Apollo!!

“I’ll bet that’s what the ‘A.A.’ in D.A.A.L.S. stands for,” Drew
theorized. “African American!”  But what was the rest of the
acronym?  There’d be time for that later; right now, she had a
jam from which to extricate herself!

“Oh, that’s no problem!” Drew faked a laugh. “Actually, it’s all
my fault!  I should have been more specific … I should have said
that I wanted to help your effort … not that I was a *member*!”

Ms Black’s smile never wavered. “Indeed?” she asked. “Well that’s
quite commendable! If only more white people had similar
attitudes!  Racism against blacks would be greatly diminished and
we could develop a natural and healthy interaction, with everyone
taking their natural roles.”

Drew sighed. “She’s buying it!” she thought. “Looks as if I’ve
gotten past the worst of it!”

Ms Black was still talking. Drew turned her attention back to the
other woman.

“So,” the beautiful black woman was saying, “Did your … friend …
say that she wanted to sponsor you? Or did she suggest you
volunteer as a Free Agent?”

Drew was back on her game. “Free Agent,” she smiled, knowing that
if she claimed a sponsor, she’d have to provide a name.

“I was hoping you’d say that,” Ms Black smiled. “We have several
members who could use your services.” She paused. “Are you …
familiar … with the D.A.A.L.S. charter?”

Drew realized this was her chance. “A little,” she said, “but I
was hoping to learn more. In fact, I’m embarrassed to admit, I
don’t even know the exact name of the organization.”

Ms Black smiled. “Ah, what we need is a little Question and
Answer session,” she said. “Then you can find out all about our
Society and your new role in it!”

Drew was ecstatic. She’d done it! She was in!

“Society,” she mused. “That’s what Ms Black had called it. That’s
what the ‘S’ stands for, I’ll bet! The ‘something that begins
with a D’ African American ‘something that begins with an L’
Society!”

“Let’s say tomorrow, 2 p.m.?” suggested Ms Black.

Drew smiled and nodded, following the other woman out into the
hall and then into the lobby.

“Tomorrow at 2, it is!” Drew beamed.

* * * * *

Drew called her client that night, to provide a preliminary
report.

“An African American Society?” Sabrina asked, her voice tinny
over Drew’s cell phone. “That doesn’t make sense. Why would an
African American group be kidnapping women? To increase their
membership? Were many of the missing women black? No … that
doesn’t make sense, either. Could it be a cover?”

The blonde PI shook her head, before remembering the reporter
couldn’t see her, over the phone.

“I don’t think so,” Drew said. “I rechecked the statistics you
got from your police contact – interestingly, the average number
of non-Caucasion disappearances has remained about the same. The
number of *white* women disappearing has increased dramatically –
way beyond the possibility of any statistical glitch.”

Drew scanned her notes. “Also of interest: 90% of these
disappearances showed up, again, within four weeks of their
initial disappearance, alive and well.”

She could almost hear the reporter’s puzzled shock over the
phone.

“They show up again?!?” Sabrina asked. “Almost all of them?!?
Then … then I guess there is no story here. Hardly any of them
actually went missing, permanently.”

Drew smiled. “There may be some kind of story here, yet,” she
said. “Although I’ll be damned if I can figure out what it is. 
It seems that *every* one of the women who showed up again ended
up either moving in with someone or had someone move in with
them.”

Drew paused, savoring the revelations.

“Every one of them started living with a black roommate.”

There was a long silence.

“They went missing … and then re-appeared, living with a black
woman?” Sabrina repeated, obviously baffled. “Every one of
them?!? What’s that about?!?”

Drew gave a wry smile. “Couldn’t say,” she admitted. “But I have
an appointment tomorrow at 2, and I might be able to get some
more answers, then.”

* * * * * *

Drew showed up at D.A.A.L.S. headquarters promptly at 2 p.m. The
receptionist smiled when she saw the blonde PI.

“Ah,” the pretty black clerk said. “Jenny Jones, right?”

Drew smiled and nodded. “Yup! I’m here for a 2 o’clock with Ms
Black.”

The receptionist regarded Drew knowingly for several seconds,
nodded, and dialed a number on her phone.

“Miss Jenny Jones is here to see you,” the receptionist
announced, carefullu enunciating the name as she flashed a broad
smile. “Yes ma’am. I understand. Right away.”

The receptionist signaled the burly security guard. “Emma? Please
escort Ms Jones back to see Ms Black, in the Q&A Room.

The burly security guard led Drew through the card access doors
and into the interior of D.A.A.L.S.

Drew followed the big woman through a maze of hallways, a long
elevator ride, and up a few flights of stairs.

Eventually, she was shown into a medium-sized conference room.
Inside, eight women sat around a large conference table. Ms Black
was standing nearby.

“Jeri!” Ms Black smiled, giving her a quick embrace. “How nice to
see you again!”  She turned to the assembled women.

“Ladies, may I present Jeri Joels … she heard of our society from
a friend and wants to volunteer her services.”

Drew nodded and waved. “That’s right,” she smiled. “I believe in
your cause and want to do whatever I can.”

She felt thick, muscular arms wrap around her, from behind.

Emma had caught her in a bear hug, pinning her arms and squeezing
her tightly.

Ms Black walked around to stand in front of her, the broad smile
looking a bit more sinister than it had a few moments earlier.

“We’re so glad, Jeri,” she said. “Or is it Jenny?  Perhaps you
can start by telling us your real name.”

Drew cursed herself.  Had she screwed up her alias? Yes! Well, no
… the damned receptionist had laid a trap! Jeri Joels … Jenny
Jones … they had sounded so similar!  Drew hadn’t caught the
deception and had unwittingly confirmed their suspicions.

“What a rookie mistake!” she whispered, tensing. So … now they
knew.  How she played it, going forward, depended on what she
could uncover about their nature … and what kind of actual danger
they might pose.

Drew tried to look contrite. “OK,” she murmured. “I’m sorry. My
real name is Jessica Van …” Her lie was cut off by a sharp slap
across her face.

Ms Black’s expression remained impassive.

“Don’t lie to us,” she scolded. Drew wanted to rub her smarting
cheek, but couldn’t, with the big guard pinning her arms. “This
*is* the Q& A room … but here, *we* ask questions and expect
answers.”

“Let’s start again,” the beautiful black woman said, softly,
caressing the pinned blonde’s reddened cheek. “What is your full
name, Drew?”

Drew felt a flash of fear. “How did you …?” she started to ask,
before stopping herself. “Damn!” she thought, trying to calm her
breathing. “They know!  They know who I am! But how!?”


Drew breathed in sharply, before catching herself. If they knew
her name, it was a safe bet they now knew her occupation.  And if
they knew all that …

“They’re pros!” Drew realized. “They have access to intelligence
professionals of some sort, either on staff or on retainer.”

Drew knew she was in trouble.

“My name is Drew Nanse,” she said, eyeing the assembled women,
defiantly. “I’m a Private Investigator.”

Ms Black smiled and stroked Drew’s face. Drawing near, she
pressed her full, sensual lips against the surprised blonde’s
mouth, giving her a lingering, passionate kiss.

“There,” the beautiful black woman murmured. “That wasn’t so
hard, was it?  You’ll find it’s … pleasant … when you please us.”

The shocked PI stared, wide-eyed but unseeing, trying to stop her
shallow panting and shake off the tingling afterglow of the black
woman’s kiss.

A stinging slap rocked the white woman’s head back.

“And you’ll find that it can be quite … unpleasant … when you
defy us,” Ms Black purred.  The beautiful black woman casually
slid a hand inside Drew’s blouse and cupped the pinned blonde’s
tit.

Drew’s head shot up, in shock. “What …?!? What are you … !?!?”

Ms Black ignored her. “Now, Drew,” she cooed. “Tell us why you
were investigating us and who hired you.”  The beautiful black
woman began unbuttoning the blonde’s blouse, as she talked.

Drew’s head was spinning. She tried to come up with a believable
cover story, even as she struggled to make sense of what was
happening.  Why was Black stripping her?!?  What was she planning
to do?  She desperately tried to puzzle the situation out.

She wasn’t quick enough.

The beautiful black woman brought another vicious slap across the
dazed blonde’s face.

Then another.

Then another.

“Tell … us …,” Ms Black demanded, in a soft voice, punctuating
each word with a hard slap that whipped the blonde’s head from
one side to the other, “who … hired … you.”

Drew’s ears were ringing and she couldn’t focus her eyes. Dimly,
she became aware of someone sliding her panties down, before
unclasping her bra.

The burly guard continued to hold the stunned white woman, who
now stood nude, as the assembled black women in their crisp
business suits looked on and smirked.

The pretty PI shook her head, trying to regain her senses.

Ms Black stepped back and looked at the security guard.

“Emma?” she said, giving a nod to the big conference table. “If
you would?”

The burly guard secured the dazed blonde’s wrists behind the
white woman’s back with a thin, plastic restraining band, similar
to the tie used on leaf bags for yard waste. Then she manhandled
the nude white woman over to the big table and pushed her captive
onto the table top.

Drew soon found herself face down, ass up, kneeling on the cold
surface of the big table. Her breasts were on the table edge, but
her head hung over the side.

To her horror, the assembled black women gathered around her. One
began fondling the blonde’s exposed pussy.  Another black
executive stood in front of the bound white woman’s face. The
black executive slowly lifted her business skirt.

She wasn’t wearing panties.

“This won’t work!” the defiant blonde shouted. “You can’t make me
talk!”

Ms Black chuckled. “Make you talk?” she laughed. “Honey, we’re
not trying to make you talk … yet. I’m just letting the Board
have some fun before we get down to business!  After they’re
through with you, we’ll go down to Interrogation.”

The group of black executives crowded around their prey. Drew’s
view of the beautiful Operations Director’s exit was blocked, as
one of the business women grabbed Drew by the hair and forced the
blonde’s face into her dark, musky muff.

* * * * *

Several hours later, Drew was in another room. She was still
nude, standing in the middle of a relatively bare, tile-floored
room. Her wrists were roped to a large eye-hook, fastened to a
beam in the ceiling, but her legs were free.  She could stand on
her own feet, but could not lower her arms completely.

They had just brought her here, directly from the Q&A room.
Drew’s pretty face was smeared with cunt juice, as was almost
every inch of her pale, trembling body. She spat, trying to get
the taste of crotch out of her mouth.  She’d been forced to go
down on every woman who had been there … several times.  They had
fingered and violated her for what had seemed an eternity.  Each
of the black executive women had rubbed themselves on her …
sliming her … marking her … laughing at her degradation. Her face
… her arms … her legs … her breasts … all shiny with their
collective juices.

And they had taken turns fondling her.

Fingering her.

Fisting her.

She blushed in shame, trying to forget how many times she had
climaxed, as a result of their unwanted attentions.

Drew stood in the middle of the room, naked, humiliated, drained,
and weak.

She eyed her newest tormenter.

The woman was almost nude, herself, her skimpy leather outfit
barely qualifying as clothing.  Although she was African
American, her hair had bene bleached bright blonde.  The woman
was short, maybe five feet or five-one, but full figured.

Ms Black had introduced this woman only as “Little Kim.”

The beautiful Operations Director had given Drew a sad, almost
empathetic smile, as she left.  “Pity …,” the Director had
murmured, as she closed the door.

“Little Kim must be D.A.A.L.S. ‘interrogator,’” Drew realized,
suppressing a shiver.

Although exhausted and sexually violated, Drew tried to steel her
resolve.  “The next few hours won’t be pleasant,” she thought. “I
can only hope that their techniques don’t involve actual
torture.”

“I’ll never talk!” she shouted, defiantly. “You’ll never get me
to tell you who hired me!”

To Drew’s shock, she watched Little Kim ignore her and continue
fastening a *huge* black strap-on around her wide, dark pelvis. 
The massive bobbing dildo was at least a foot and a half long and
Drew couldn’t even begin to estimate how thick it was.

The blonde-haired black woman looked at Drew with an amused
smile.

“Don’t care if you talk or not,” she drawled. “Ms Black sez ah
kin has you t’do whatever ah wan’.”  She regarded the
semi-suspended white woman with a lusty, heavy-lidded stare, her
thick lips twitching into a slight smile.

“An wut ah wan’ is t’fuck you, baby,” the little dominatrix
murmured, eyeing Drew as if she were a cut of meat in a butcher
shop. “Ahm gonna fuck you lahk you ain’ *nevuh* bin fucked
before.”

Slowly, Little Kim approached the bound white woman.

Panicked, Drew tried to draw away, kicking furiously at her
assailant.

The black woman grabbed one of Drew’s flailing legs. Then the
other, forcing the white woman to hang, suspended by her bound
wrists.

Little Kim shifted her grip to the white woman’s ankles and
spread her victim’s legs wide.

“Ms Black sez ah kin has you,” she murmured, her voice thick with
lust.  She rubbed the head of the massive dildo against the white
girl’s already-battered blonde snatch.

Drew felt the massive cockhead push against her stretched pussy
lips.

“Oh God!” she gasped to herself.  “That thing is *huge*!  There’s
no way I can take all of that!  She’ll ruin me forever if she
tries to force that thing in me!”

$125 a day and expenses wasn’t worth a lifetime of permanently
walking bow-legged!

“It was Sabrina West!” Drew screamed, in panic. “Sabrina West
hired me!”

But the little black dominatrix didn’t seem to care.

She grabbed Drew’s legs and wrapped them around her own, dark
hips.  The shrieking PI struggled, dangling from her bound
wrists. Grabbing the suspended white girl’s ass, Little Kim
pulled Drew towards her, thrusting the mammoth dildo partway into
the vulnerable blonde’s reluctant cunt.

Drew screamed.

“Sabrina West!” she cried. “It was Sabrina West who hired me!
Please …!  I’ll … I’ll tell you everything!”

Little Kim smiled, but ignored her. She began pumping into the
white woman, using the pretty blonde’s ass and hips as handles.
The cruel black dominatrix swung her victim back and forth, 
impaling the gasping blonde on the massive strap-on with each
swing.  Soon, she was slamming the entire huge dildo into the
groaning white woman, up to the hilt, with every stroke.

Drew groaned, feeling as if her guts were being forced up into
her throat as the massive rubber cock penetrated deeply inside
her. It felt as if it were displacing her internal organs with
each thrust. Each time Little Kim slammed their pussies together,
the mammoth cock was crammed deeper, actually forcing the air
from Drew’s lungs so that she couldn’t speak … or even breathe.

“Sabrina …!” she grunted, between thrusts. “…West! … Sabrina …
West!””

The little, black dominatrix continued to swing the bigger white
girl back and forth, sinking her strong, dark fingers deeply into
the soft, pale flesh of the bound blonde’s ass as she firmed her
grip.

Despite her pain and humiliation, Drew climaxed, humiliating her
even further.

She wept.

But Little Kim did not stop.

“Sabrina,” Drew sobbed repeatedly over the next several hours, as
the diminutive black woman continued to rape her. “Sabrina … uhhh
… West … uhhh!”

Little Kim kept the weeping white girl hanging for several weeks,
fucking her helpless victim for hours at a time, each day.

After several days of being raped in such a fashion, Drew’s mind
snapped and she succumbed completely to the cruel, black
dominatrix.  Her universe collapsed, fixating on a single point,
which she repeated mindlessly, over and over as she was violated.

“Sabrina West,”  the vacantly staring blonde would whisper, a
trickle of drool escaping her slack, pretty lips.

“Sabrina West.”