A Scandalous Affair

Rama - Blackshaft 1-05 - Lines p2
(Adults Only. Copyright@Rama. 2013)




St Ignatious. Back of the Playing Fields. Day.

She wrapped her legs around him as he began thrusting into her. Isabella quickly kissed her Italian stallion’s shoulder and slid her hands down his back to squeeze his thrusting buttocks. He plunged into her and looked her in the eye. Isabella smiled up at Carlo Bructanni as he fucked her. She could hear the grunts and the whimpers from the nearby hut. The thought of what was happening in there got her so horny. “Harder, Carlo. Give it to me harder.” she told him.
Carlo grinned and started slamming into her. He closed his eyes. “AAAHHHH...” he gasped and she felt him cum inside her. Carlo sank down, pulling out of Isabella who simply lay on the rug on the ground among the trees. He rolled off of her and she looked at him and sighed as she rubbed her sensitive pussy lips. He pulled the condom from his softening cock and tossed it away. A slap came from the hut and they lay there listening to the sounds coming from the hut for another five minutes before Carlo got up and started pulling his clothes back together. Isabella picked up her small, white panties and knelt in front of him. She pushed them down the front of his jeans with a smile. Then stood up and straightened the school’s uniform up.
The hut’s door slammed open and the three Italian boys wandered out, laughing. “Next time,” one said as another stretched the panties between his hands. They were ripped. Useless now. They stopped on seeing Carlo and Isabella. An air or respect came over them as they waited for Carlo. “Later,” he said and looked into the hut. Isabella smiled as he blew a kiss inside then led them away through the bushes towards where they had climbed over a wall to get in. Isabella sighed, getting to her feet. There was nothing like a good fuck. She walked to the hut and peered it. Then smiled. The figure was curled into a ball on the rough wooden floor. The little bitch’s blouse and skirt was torn open. Isabella saw the cum stains on the rug and the condoms that had been thrown aside. “NO!” the small figure of Paula Guerina begged. “STOP! No more!” Paula blinked as she saw it was Isabella. “You--”
“What!” Isabella said. She stepped into the hut and pushed the scared blonde onto her back, pinching her tear-stained face hard. “I what? You about to call me something, you dumb cunt! I tell you to do something, you fucking WILL do it. Or next time they’ll do you up your fucking ASS! And they might not bother with rubbers either.”
“No... Y-Y-Y-Yes... I mean yes!.”
“Good,” Isabella smiled, standing up. She looked at the used condoms again. A couple of them were stained red. “Congratulations, bitch. First time too, huh?” She stopped at the door, looking out at the trees and bushes. “Oh, and you tell anyone about this. Your sister is what now, 16-17? A year under you? Maybe she’ll get a little party. Just her and some of Carlo’s crew.”
“NO!” Paula yelled. “I won’t tell anyone! I’ll do what you want!”
Isabella nodded her head. “Was that so difficult?” she said. “Now if you’d said that when I asked you to that essay for me, you might still be...” She thought about it. “Pure. And not just another little fucking whore.” She said and saw the condom Carlo had thrown away and picked it up. “Now, I want you clean this mess up. You can start with drinking down all the cum that’s in every rubber that’s in this hut.” Isabella threw Carlo’s used, full condom onto Paula. “Starting with that one.” she smiled and laughed, crossing her arms as she looked down at the terrified girl....




Lilgrove. The Old Brewster Place. Day.

Callam stopped the jeep at the front door of the old farmhouse. From the overgrowth, it fitted with what the old man he’d found had told him, that it hadn’t been used as a farm in over 30, maybe 40 years. At least. He switched the engine off and stepped out. Callam had never considered himself to be merciful or even feeling but the old white man had struck something in him. He’d found him living here when he had checked the town. A couple of bums were ‘dealt’ with then he’d come out here. The farmhouse was a speck in the distance but it had to be checked anyhow. That’s when he found the old man, in what had been the kitchen, busy cooking something nasty on a wood fire. A bullet would have been a mercy for the man. This wasn’t any existence. But there was something in the old voice that made him just stop and listen. A politeness the old man had called it. He sat and listened to the old man’s story about the farm, the old Brewster place. Callam listened and then left.
He pushed open the door and saw the dusty hallway. “Hey, man!” he called out, then waited a moment. “You in?”
Only the wind replied to him as he heard something, maybe a window, close.
He looked at the stairway up to the bedrooms. “Weird things happened here, them women were wild bitches.” the old man had told him. Callam walked in and headed for the rear of the house, towards the kitchen. “Yo, got some real food for you man!” he said, walking into the ruined kitchen. The old man was lying on the cot in the corner. “Yo, dude.” Callam said, approaching him slowly. He stopped as he saw the look on the old man’s face. He knelt down and held his hand in front of the old man’s mouth. “Shit.” he muttered. The old man was dead.
A quick check told Callam it seemed to be natural. At least there was no sign of violence. And from the peaceful look on the man’s face it must have happened in his sleep. Callam stood up and nodded his respect to the old man. He looked about him and wondered why he would have stayed here. The kitchen was a mess. In the front room he found some old pictures. Two fine white bitches, mother and daughter by the look. They looked decent enough. The house didn’t look like it would need much to fix up, if they needed it. He would check the upstairs when someone was with him in case they were weak. Callam looked in some of the cupboards and stopped as he found himself looking at the door the old man had told him never to go through. Callam opened the door and looked down some stone steps into darkness.
He got a flashlight from the jeep and slowly made his way down into the dark space under the farmhouse. He stopped at the foot of the stairs as the small details stared back at him. The old rotting mattresses on the floor, the chains that hung from the walls, and two wooden beds. In one corner an animal cage was on it’s side. He noticed an old book and opened it with a foot. It was a photo album. He saw the faces in the pictures. Two of them were those decent looking women from the photo upstairs, only here they weren’t so decent. The older one was watching the younger one, watching what she was doing with a look of lust in each picture.
“Jesus,” Callum muttered feeling sick at the pictures and kicked the album away. He walked back up, picked up the old man’s body and carried him outside. He had seen somewhere nice and peaceful he could bury him. Then he’d come back and burn this fucking place down.



St Ignatious. English Class. Day.

Another crappy so-called lesson, Isabella thought as the class began to file out. Mr Jameson was the talk of the school. A very filthy talk at that. Forget that he couldn’t teach worth a damn, they wanted to fuck him sideways! Well, that was how you got the likes of him. Tease the fuck until he couldn’t help himself and then yell rape before watching him squirm. Just like that time with one of Papa’s bodyguards, when she drove that one to blowing his brains out. That was the reason she was here. A girl’s finishing school would be best for her, her slut of a mother had decided. That bitch had just wanted the competition out of the way. And Isabella knew she was becoming some serious fuck-hot competition.
She watched him before finally standing up. She had left the nigger ‘teacher’ a little message in the report on Othello she’d handed in. And that fucking nigger hadn’t looked once at her. Didn’t seem slightly pissed off or turned on even. What the fuck was wrong with him? She was putting herself out on a plate and he wasn’t batting an eye-lid! Maybe she was missing some things, like a cock a balls! Isabella sniffed. Nah, that wasn’t it. She could tell a straight one right off and Jameson was one hundred percent hetro! He’d fall, like every man eventually did. And when he did she would watch him beg and plead as she destroyed his life. The thought of another male begging for his life made her so horny. Isabella would call Carlo. That boy would be over at the first hint of pussy on offer.
She got her stuff together and walked past him giving her best wiggle as she headed for the door. Glancing back she saw him... do nothing! Fucking nigger was still ignoring her. Feeling the anger rise she marched through the door and right into someone. “You fu--” Isabella stopped herself as she it was the principle, Miss Wyatt.
“Just the person I’m after.” Caroline Wyatt smiled.
“You found me.” Isabella shrugged.
Caroline took the report from behind her back and held it up to the student. “Your report?” she asked. Isabella gave it a glance and nodded. “Mr Jameson passed it to me. With note of this.” Caroline opened it up at the message written on the last page. ‘Your BIG BLACK COCK in my TIGHT WHITE PUSSY?’ She saw the flash of anger on the girl’s face. “You recognise it then?”
“I...”
“Teachers lose jobs over things like this, even go to prison.” the principle told her. “So stop the stupid stunts, Miss Brunelli. Meanwhile, your privileges are suspended. Now get out of my sight.”
Isabella looked up at the principle. She wanted to slap this silly bitch here and now but realised what would happen. “Yes, Miss Wyatt,” she muttered and stormed off. She never saw the principle look at the last page again before walking into the classroom and locking the door. That was why Jameson had never looked at her. He knew that was coming. The black fuck had set her up. Two can play that, she thought. Fucking nigger.



Corrine Allen’s apartment. Guest Room. Day.

Kacey opened her eyes and for surprised for a second before she remembered where she was. Corrine had gave her a bed. She’d said it was for as long as she wanted. At least until she could get things figured out. She was now the owner of Beach Industries. Her. She couldn’t even buy a drink yet and she now owned a whole industry. What the fuck was Alison thinking....?
She up and put on her clothes. The same as yesterday, Kacey realised. She’d need to get some from the mansion. Her mansion. Kacey shook her head, still not able to get around it. She owned it. All of it.A quick trip to the bathroom and Kacey was standing in the middle of the apartment. It was bright and sparse but stylish. The windows were large, giving a view of the park below. Pictures and prints on the walls. A large TV was fixed to the wall with some DVDs in the bookshelf next to it. A note was on the table in front of it. ‘Just let you sleep. What’s mine is yours. Relax. You got a lot to deal with right now. Later. C.’
Kacey sat down and looked around her. It felt lived in. It felt alien.



*********


An hour later the phone rang. Kacey picked it up. “Hello.” she said.
“Afternoon,” Corrine replied. “How you doing?”
Kacey looked around her. “Fine.”
“Finding your way around the place?”
“Yes.”
“I’m going to be late back. We’ll sit. Talk. About all this shit.”
“Okay.” Kacey sighed.
“Okay.” corrine said.. “Boss.”
“That’s not funny.”
“Wait till the other shareholders find out.” Corrine laughed. “Now just relax today. See you later, Kacey.”




Lilgrove. Dig Site. Day.

Callam could see the fading columns of smoke from the old farmhouse. He’d taken some men and torched all of it. The mainhouse and out buildings. He had personally made sure the cellar and everything in it had burned, starting with that damned photo album. Just the thought chilled him.
He turned his attention and watched the conveyor belt pulling up the red clay and the glowing red rock. Everything, they had said. The rock and the soil around it. So he was going to deliver everything. Looking down into the deeping pit he was digging machines and sweaty black men working hard. There was a constant supply of water going down as the temperatures were getting higher, even under the huge tent that had been erected over the hole. The hole had grown in width and depth. A ramp and the sides had been dug out to get the machinery down and make sure it didn’t cave in. Whatever the hell had landed there was massive. It added to the puzzle for Callam. Why didn’t the town hear it come down? The place wasn’t that far from the site. The noise of this landing would have woken up the dead.
He looked at a chunk of of rock at is travelled alone the belt. It was literally glowing a red colour that shifted in the light. That sure a shit was NOT from this planet....



St Ignatious. Front Entrance. Day.

Emma Agnews had an old name. But there was nothing old about her body. IronRod had found that out the previous night when he’d acted as her saviour and gave her a lift hom after her car had stopped working. Emma Agnews was 32, a brunette and recently divorced and happily invited the new hunky black teacher in for a drink to thank him for the lift. A couple of drinks later and he made his excuses and headed for the door. “Are you sure, Taylor?” she had said....
She had wanted him to wear a condom. IronRod would have refused, but right then he was Taylor Jameson, mister nice guy. He agreed. She clung to him as he fucked her. He heard the surprise in her when his cock pushed inside her deep. Her legs and arms were tight around him, pulling him in as deep as he could go. He listened to her gasps as she came. Emma had them confessed that that was the first time in years she’d come without doing anything herself. Her husband had been useless. A white man, he thought. Once you go black, he had told her, smiling.
He hadn’t time to change his clothes and so had breakfast at her place then showered and drove her back to the school. IronRod saw the lust in her eyes as she looked at him before sliding out of the car. Another bitch blacked, he thought, watching her walk in. There seemed to be a change in her. Her hips seemed to swing a bit more. “This place is gonna kill me,” he muttered to that ass as it went in the door.



*************



Emma waited until she was sure he couldn’t see her and let herself slump down slightly. She’d done it. It felt strange to have a cock inside her after so long, the reason she had done it made her feel sick. She heard the faint ring of her phone and got it out of her bag. “Yes?” she said.
“Miss Agnews and the nig-ger, sitting in the tree, K_I_S_S_I_N-G!” the voice sang. “Or should that be fucking that big nigger cock like the pervert whore she is!”
“I--” Emma realised there were students around her, and pressed the phone closer to her. “I’ve done as you wanted.”she whispered.
“You call the cops?” the voice said. “No, course not otherwise his black ass would be getting a beating in a jail cell right now. You know what you’re to do. You have until

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