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  • Teelah and the Two (Teelah I)

Teelah and the Two (Teelah I)

12

It was Teelah's first night in her new apartment in the city. She was lying in bed, beads of sweat were forming over the muscular legs she spent so many years honing in gyms for countless hours, the legs that were the source of her powerful physical presence, the legs that tossed and turned her in her tortured twisted dreams. Teelah dreamed of a girl, the same girl, every night. Her nightmares, her fantasies, her dreams were all swirled into one. In the depths of her slumber Teelah was back in high school. She and Loretta were back in the school yard.

"Who does that racist bitch think she is?" thought Teelah before receiving the beating of the century. In her dream it was, it always was, just as it was in reality. Every blow felt real. Every punch. Every kick. The humiliation of begging for mercy on her knees made her palpitate viscerally as she looked up at her challenger. Black braids hanging neatly at her shoulders. The afternoon sun hit the girl's dark brown eyes from the side, giving them an otherworldly appearance. Teelah wondered how such a compact girl could have been such a violent aggressor against herself, the special Teelah, with her thick muscular physique, her sassy attitude. All the other girls in town followed her, but not Loretta. Loretta was from the city. And the view of Loretta from Teelah's knees was changing something in Teelah. Fear was intermingling with excitement, excitement with fantasy, but it was not something Teelah could put her finger on just yet. It was so amorphous that she awoke in a sweat, the memory of her dream faded like an ice cube melting in her hot hand. It was nothing more than an intangible memory of a strange and curiously developing seed in her. She got up and got a glass of water, washed her sweaty face, and tried to fall back asleep, but only tossed and turned, her brow wrinkled as if to aid her in trying to place her finger back upon her mixed emotions.

Back in high school, Loretta was the only black girl in town, but here in the city there was a much larger black population. When Teelah went shopping for house wares the next day, for her new apartment, she came across several black women. She was ashamed to admit that every time she passed a black woman she felt a sense of fear in the pit of her stomach. But just as in her dream, that fear was mingled with excitement and while a part of her wanted to run from these women a braver, more daring, and simultaneously more naïve side of her was drawn to them, wanted to present herself to them as an object of challenge in contrast.

That night Teelah showered, pulled her shoulder length, brunette hair back into a ponytail, and slipped into a pair of blue boxers and a white tank top. As she prepared dinner for herself, using some of her new kitchen appliances, she let her thoughts freely contemplate the black women she saw that day in town. She thought about how she felt towards them, how each and every one of them brought forth varying degrees of visceral responses from her. She imagined what it would have been like if she had walked up to one of them, and presented herself as a challenger, as she had fantasized about during the day. She wanted revenge on Loretta. She wanted to show those black girls who was really the boss. But in every scene she worked out in her mind, in every scene the black girls gained control over her.

Even in her own fantasies they dominated her. She ruminated over these fantasies, circled them about in her head repeatedly. The more they ran through her mind, the more she began to enjoy them. She created an inkling of a connection with her experience with Loretta and her new found fantasies. She dreamed up scenarios of humiliation, of bondage, of masochism. Before she knew it, it was time for slumber. Teelah wished for nightmares.

The next morning she awoke, sadly, with no recollection of the previous night's dreams but did have a marvelous idea over coffee.

"A black roommate," she thought. But how would she go about obtaining one? And how would she find the right type, because not all black women elicited as strong a response from her as others. She wanted to feel that feeling all the time. She decided to place an ad in the paper. She knew she couldn't get away with asking for a black roommate, that would provoke too much questioning, so she simply posted that she did not discriminate racially.

Teelah interviewed many women, many of whom were black, but none of whom fit the bill. None of them gave her that feeling she sought, those fantasies. They were all too nice once she got to know them. Too sweet. Teelah wanted to be the sweet one. After a weekend of interviewing Teelah had to get out of the apartment and get herself a coffee drink at the coffee shop a few blocks down. She thought she'd walk to clear her head. With every step she took she felt her fantasies slipping away and her heart breaking a little. Maybe she was a little crazy for wanting such things. As she walked she noticed a slightly older black woman in braids stapling a flier to a wooden pole. She had that urge to walk up to her and present herself. Something in her snapped. Maybe it was because this woman looked like an older Loretta, with her neat braids and dark, dark eyes. She read the flier aloud to herself in the black woman's presence.

"Room wanted for rent. Two females," said Teelah.

"Yeah," the woman said. "Me and my sister."

"I have a room for rent. Real close," Teelah said, pulling off a pre-cut tab with the woman's phone number. "I'm going for coffee. You wanna come interview with me?" The black woman sized Teelah up. Teelah's legs in tight stretchy jeans, feet in sneakers, her waist accentuated by a feminine tee-shirt. Teelah's hair was pulled back neatly into a pony tail.

"I'm Comfort," said the woman, "I'm from Louisiana. I'd be moving in with my sister."

"Oh," said Teelah, "What a nice accent. What's your sister's name?"

"Oh. She's younger than me. So everyone always just called her Sis." The two ladies went off to coffee. They talked about jobs. Teelah worked at a designer boutique on commission. People gravitated towards her on account of her body, but she was sure it was her sales prowess that earned her the big bucks. Comfort was a bank associate, who also earned commissions on accounts and mortgages she sold. Teelah was sweet. She knew this about herself. It was a source of confidence for her. It allowed people to be comfortable with her. They often told her things, things they normally wouldn't tell other people. Teelah considered herself a keeper of secrets, and, as such, she considered it her duty not to judge people. After all. We all had our secrets. In Comfort's presence, Teelah was well aware of her own dark secret.

Speaking of secrets, Comfort mentioned hers. "I did some time. We both did." Teelah raised her brow. "I can explain. I wanted you to hear it from me. Not some background check."

"What happened?" Teelah asked.

"Assault. Me and my sister. But it wasn't our fault." And Comfort went on to tell Teelah the twisted tale of how she and Sis were 'roped' into assault and battery charges and how it wasn't their fault. Teelah was impressed with Comfort's honesty and most definitely intrigued by this black woman with assault charges, even if they weren't really her fault, as she claimed. She offered her and Sis the room and they were able to move in the next day. Comfort gave Teelah that wonderful feeling every time she came near her. Comfort was slender and lean and tough looking. Sis was too. Sis didn't have her hair braided though, it was straightened, and brushed back off her face.

The two black women moved their things into the spare bedroom within a day. Teelah pretended to watch TV as they walked back and forth in front of her, giving her butterflies with every pass. They asked Teelah to help them unpack and Teelah jumped to her feet to help. There were boxes everywhere in the spacious room, filled with clothes, towels, sheets. Some boxes were taped shut. Teelah was instructed to leave those be. Those were for storage. The women wanted to thank Teelah for letting them stay with her and helping. They wanted to make a fancy dinner. Teelah had some time to get ready while the women cooked. She bathed, washing every curve, washing her hair, washing every fold. She selected a pair of jean shorts --she wanted to appear casual, but there was something missing. There was something not quite "enough" about them. She slipped out of them and cut a full inch off the bottom of them. Now her full rounded cheeks peeked out the bottom of the back of the shorts. She put on a structured bra top camisole and slipped her hair into a simple ponytail.

Teelah exuded confidence. She stepped into the kitchen swaying her hips from side to side, placing each bare foot down with care, the smell of her shampoo leaving behind a scented trail of pure girliness. Comfort and Sis eyed each other. Comfort stopped cooking and leaned her back up against the counter, her arms crossed over her chest, staring at Teelah. Teelah was setting the table, purposefully appearing to be oblivious, leaning over just a little too far in her short shorts as she put each fork, each spoon, each knife down individually.

"Hey Teelah," called out Comfort.

"Yeah," said Teelah without turning around, leaning across the table, shaking her hips minutely to the music.

"I have a present of sorts you can borrow. It's in the box labeled 'storage 1.' You wanna go grab it?" asked Comfort. Sis kept herself busy chopping onions and pouring wine for the three of them.

"Sure!" Teelah shook the box. It sounded like there were metal chains in it. Her mind wandered. They opened the box and in it was a pot rack on chains. Teelah's heart sank. It sat on a bed of sisal rope, which must have been used to hang the top.

Disappointed, Teelah said, "How lovely. Let's hang it after dinner. I'm starved." The ladies ate dinner. Comfort and Teelah discussed working for commission. Sis eyed Teelah as she chewed her steak. Both black women watched Teelah drink glass after glass of wine as they barely touched theirs. Teelah laughed louder and louder. When dinner was over Teelah started to get up and clean up the plates.

"No, let me," said Sis and she picked up the plates. Teelah was in a daze. She didn't hear Sis dig in the 'storage' box. Comfort watched Sis come back with the rope. Teelah giggled as Sis tied her ankles together.

"What are you doing?" Teelah asked. Teelah knew. She started to fight back. Comfort walked behind her and held her arms tight behind her back while Sis tied methodically. Three neat rings of sisal around her ankles fastened in a simple hidden two column tie. Teelah couldn't bear the chaffing and scratching of the rope on her freshly washed skin. She pointed and flexed her toes, trying to desensitize herself from the the pain of the rope but it only scraped her ankles. Sis tied her legs together just below the knees, then just above, with the same tie, that same rope, rough around the sensitive insides of Teelah's inner thigh tenders. With every thrust of her struggles the black women tightened their grips on her and the sisal rope scratched and scraped her. It made Teelah want to fight back even more, at once to make the pain of the rope lessen, at once to feel, to feel every fiber of that rope. It enlivened her. It awoke her. Comfort took another length of rope and in seemingly one fowl swoop tied Teelah's arms behind her back and bound her breasts tightly on her chest, flinging Teelah's chest forward, arching her back, posing her legs. Sis instructed Teelah to go to the kitchen where the dishes had been laid out by the sink. Teelah was to lick them clean. "But howww?" Teelah begged.

"I dunno Sis, are we gonna have to gag her?" asked Comfort.

"I dunno, comfort, I kinda like this spunk. It gives me sumthin' to fight against," said Sis. Sis leaned into Teelah, close to her ear, so their breaths intermingled. Sis said, "Girl, get into the kitchen." The words were strung together like proudly worn imitation pearls. Teelah knew what to do. Teelah hopped out of her chair and hopped across the floor and something came across her and she giggled. She'd fantasized about just this thing. Sis pushed Teelah down onto the floor. The black women shared a laugh at Teelah's expense and helped her back to her feet.

"Do you think this is a game, girl?" asked Comfort, whispering into Teelah's ear.

"N-no," said Teelah.

"Then go," said Sis, and Teelah hobbled over to the kitchen and licked the plates. As she bent over her ass peeked out of her shorts. She regretted cutting them off now. The black women caressed her ass, squeezed it, and smacked it, almost knocking Teelah off balance from her plates. As they smacked her, Teelah could feel the skin on her ass getting inflamed, red. She arched her back; she didn't know why. Teelah's hair was still pulled back into a pony tail, but by this point, after this abuse, a single strand had fallen into her face. But it wasn't enough to hide her satisfaction with the situation. Comfort whispered in her ear.

"You like that?" and she smacked Teelah so hard on her rear that Teelah let out a gurgled moan. The smack resonated in Teelah's internal organs. And again. And again. Over and over. Steady smacks. One after the other. In between smacks Teelah could hear Sis on her cell pacing in the dining room. Teelah could make out only fragments of sentences.

"Bring the whole crew and..." and "... the gear," and, "...cameras are..." Teelah wondered about the evening's events. She was distracted by the phone call. Sis sounded different. She had a different accent. Like she was from a different city, not Louisiana. Teelah's distraction must have been apparent in her licking. Comfort pushed aside what little there was left of Teelah's shorts and shoved one finger in Teelah's ass and the rest of her fingers in Teelah's pussy. Teelah winced.

"Why did you get unfocused... girl?" grimaced Comfort through her teeth.

"I... I'm sorry," said Teelah, and she continued licking. Comfort continued smacking for what seemed like an eternity. Teelah was in a tight spot both literally and figuratively. She could barely move. She couldn't express her pain, or she would reveal her limitations. She would reveal that she wasn't as tough as what these black ladies could administer. She couldn't reveal pleasure because the pain and humiliation would only get stronger and more intense, and while a growing part of Teelah enjoyed this entire scene, this was, after all, exactly was she was after when she walked up to Comfort as she was hanging that flier, a growing part of Teelah was experiencing a naïve kind of fear. It was the most basic kind of fears; it was the fear of the unknown. She knew this whole scene was only the beginning. She knew more women were to arrive. She knew more was in store for her, but she didn't know what, and that is what scared her.

"Nice little girl," said Sis, admiring the job Teelah did licking the plates. "Now for the real dirty work." The two black women exchanged glances and Sis spoke up again. "Living room. Now." And she pulled Teelah by her pony tail and Teelah could barely keep up, hopping and hobbling behind Sis, who was behind Comfort, who led the girl to the couch. The two black women positioned Teelah in front of the couch standing up. The delicately smoothed her hair, calling her their 'pet,' and their 'girl.' Just as they were about to sit down the doorbell rang. Comfort went to the door and let in three more black women of varying ages and varying sizes. They walked straight up to Teelah and didn't say a word. One of them caressed her chin. Another squeezed her shoulder. Another peeked behind her. They all sat on the couch or the floor in front of it as if they were about to watch a chick flick. Comfort sat down slowly, mindfully crossed one leg over the other.

She said, "Dance girl."

"What?" asked Teelah, totally in disbelief of what she'd just heard. With the speed of a single tail Comfort stood up and slapped Teelah across the cheek.

"You heard me." There was no music. Teelah began to wriggle in her restraints. Completely humiliated by her audience of strangers only feet away. Black strangers. She was terrified she would fall, as her ankles were bound so close together. Slowly Teelah started rolling her shoulders, swaying her hips from side to side, pushing her pelvis back and forth. She looked like a curvaceous bound snake dancing its way out of a basket. The black women began to cheer. When Teelah heard the first cheer a corner of her mouth turned up. One of the new black women, nameless, tapped her on the face. Teelah felt the roll of the rope, moving up and down her limbs, her torso, as she wriggled, as she writhed. She found herself less dancing and more in the throws of a sexual tantrum.

"This is not nice for you, you got that? This is for us." Teelah nodded and lost her smirk instantly. The nameless woman caressed Teelah's head and neck, stroked her esophagus, and grabbed her by the spine of her neck and pushed her down to her knees. Teelah was facing the women's legs on the couch.

"Eat," said Sis. She was wearing jeans and she opened her legs. Teelah was not a lesbian, but there was something about this position of submission that turned her on. She scooted over to Sis and pressed her face between her legs. She licked her pants slowly. The women laughed at her. "Eat," repeated Sis. She heaved heavily into Sis' crotch, the heat emanating from her mouth through Sis' pants, into the depths of her, into the mysteriously differentiated delta that no doubt dwelt between those legs, behind that jeans crotch. As Teelah's hands were tied behind her back she could only support herself by her head in Sis's lap. The other black women pounced on her, pulling at her shirt, her nipples, stroking the labia that pressed through the seam of her modified shorts. If Teelah groaned she got spanked. If Teelah got spanked she groaned more and got spanked harder, on her ass, on her legs. Her nipples were flicked.

Finally Sis grabbed Teelah by the hair and forced her down to her boot. Teelah didn't know what to do so Sis jammed her face harder into the boot. "Lick it girl! Clean them good broad!" she yelled. All the women flattened down Teelah's body to the ground and lifted her head so Teelah may lick the boots. Teelah was disgusted. They were covered in dirt and grime and general city pollution. But she licked. It was five on one and she was bound. Funny thing was, it never once during the course of this depraved evening occur to her to struggle after the binding. And she didn't struggle now. What was it with these women and their licking?

The women sat in a line. In a line on the couch, and then the lesser ones on the floor further down. Teelah was to lick the boots, or rubber soles, of the shoes of all the black women there. She crawled as best she could in her restraints. She wriggled and writhed. She licked. She curled her tongue in to pull up the big chunks of debris and she flattened out her tongue to slather out the minuscule pieces of dirt. Teelah did her fuckin' job and she, for some psychotic time, took pride in it. She licked those bitches' boots. And as she knelt there, crawling in a hobbling sort of way in her restraints, going from boot to boot, boot to shoe, the black women groped her. They caressed whatever they could reach of her breasts, squeezing her nipples, walking fingers down her spine, down the small of her back, down her ass. They ran their hands across her now engorged labia. It was clear at least one part of Teelah was enjoying this. They squeezed her lips together. They were so accessible in those shorts. How thoughtful of Teelah to modify them.

They suspended her. As she was laying on the ground, licking their footwear, flat as can be, susceptible; they took her. They took her. Those black women. In that tie, that restraint. So convenient. They lifted her in the living room, hoisted her. Yes, she was suitable. The plan was complete.

12
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