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Chapter 3 Mr. Quarles Visits
�
���� So where
did I go wrong you�re asking.� It�s
simple, really.� I decided I was much
shrewder than the professional gamblers who set the point spread for the Colts
and the Pacers.� Owning your own business
allows you to write off things like good seats to home games.� I started betting on the games I was
attending.� I rationalized having money
on the game made sitting there a lot more exciting.
��� Over time
my bets got larger.� If I lost, I bet
twice as much next time hoping to get it all back, a loser�s strategy.� It got out of hand.� One day I realized I owed more than a quarter
million dollars and I didn�t have it.
���� Owing
large sums to bookies AKA criminals is not a recipe for longevity.� That�s how I met Mr. Alfred T. Quarles.
����� I was
working late and alone.� I was in my
office worrying about my gambling debts.�
I hadn�t told Corrine.� She�d been
talking about getting pregnant, quitting work, and starting a family.� That morning when I told my bookie he would
have his money tomorrow, I got the impression he didn�t believe me.� Maybe it had to do with the fact, he heard me
say it a dozen times before.� I was
trying to face up to the prospect of telling Corrine I was going to have to
take out a large loan to pay my debts and motherhood would have to wait.
���� I was
drinking scotch and feeling sorry for myself when four black men appeared in my
office.� I wasn�t sure how they got
in.� The front door was supposed to be
locked.
���� Two were
obviously muscle since they looked like they played defensive line for the
Colts.� One other reminded me of the
black movie star, Wesley Snipes, the one who made all the vampire films. He had
an unmistakable aura of menace about him.�
His body language yelled I would just as soon kill you as look at
you.� As it turned out, Corrine and I
would spend a lot of time with him but no matter how many hours we were
together, he still scared the shit out of me.
���� But it
was the oldest of the four who had my attention.
���� �I�m Alvin
Quarles.� This is my assistant,
Morgan.� You owe me money,� said the
small black man who unbidden took a seat in front of my desk.� He was obviously someone who paid attention
to clothes and for a mobster had expensive taste.� He dressed better than my banker.� He looked positively elegant sitting there
with one hand resting on his gold-headed cane.�
He was wearing a navy pin stripe suit that fit him perfectly.� His red bow tie was one you actually had to
tie.� The only thing flashy was the
diamond cuff links that if they were real could be hocked for this year�s
Cadillac.
���� It took
me a second to associate his visit to my gambling.� Abe, the man I placed my bets with was white.
��� �I don�t
have it but I am going to take out a loan and pay you.� I just need a few more days,� I said.
��� He had a
strange way of expressing himself, courteous but threatening.� �Mr. Meade in my business, you occasionally
have to set an example or people loose respect for you, especially if you�re a
black man in a white man�s world.� You
understand what I�m saying, Mr. Meade?� said Mr. Quarles.
���� �I said
you�d get your money in a couple of days,� sounding truculent.� I considered myself a good businessman and
hanging tough was part of my shtick.�
Plus I was a little drunk.
��� ��But if I allow you to bring your debts
current, others will assume they can also be in arrears for substantial
periods.� I will have to devote all my
resources to collections.� Do you
understand my point, Mr. Meade?�
����� �Yes,
I�m a college graduate,� I said the booze having made me stupid and sarcastic.
����� He
ignored my sarcasm.� �Unfortunately my
family could not afford to send me to a place of higher education,� said Mr.
Quarles in a very quiet polite voice.�
����� �Look, I
have to get home.� You�ll get your money
the day after tomorrow,� I said standing up.
����� �Your
lovely wife Corrine must be waiting dinner for you,� said Mr. Quarles.
����� �My wife
is not your concern,� I said getting pissed as I stepped out from behind the
desk.� That was when the muscles grabbed
me.� The thought things would get violent
had not occurred to me.� I was a
businessman.� We took each other to court
for unpaid debts.� I�d had to call my
lawyer more times than I could remember.
����� They
lifted me off the ground by my armpits and frog marched me into the open area
where we filmed commercials.� It was
filled with sets used for video taping spots planned or recently finished.� I was yelling for them to let me go or I
would call the police.
��� The one
named Morgan located a rope we used to raise or lower backdrops.� They tied my wrists then tossed it over one
of the ceiling beams and hauled me up to where my toes barely touched the
floor.� They stood back and watched for a
few minutes as I tried to stand on my toes because my arms hurt.� I was cursing them as I danced around.� I was being about as dumb as a human can
be.�� Then it really got scary.
���� Morgan
unbuckled my belt and pulled down my pants and boxers.� At first I was screaming my head off for him
to stop undressing me then I was screaming because Morgan�s hand was wrapped
around my testicles and applying enough pressure to permanently change their
shape.
���� He had
hold of my cock in one hand and my balls in the other.� It felt like he was trying to separate the
two.� ��
���� It hurt
so bad I wanted to faint or vomit.� Just
when I thought the pain couldn�t get any greater, Morgan switched to where he
was holding one nut in each hand.� He�d
alternated between crushing one then the other.�
Mr. Quarles had taken a seat in a nearby rocking chair, another Earl
Buncombe special.� He sat quietly rocking
as his man put me through several of the most painful minutes of my life.
���� �That�s
enough for now, Morgan,� said Mr. Quarles rocking back and forth.
���� Morgan
gave my left nut a final flattening.� It
was several minutes before I recovered enough to beg them to stop.� �As God is my witness, Mr. Quarles you will
get your money.�
���� �You a
church going man, Mr. Meade,� asked Mr. Quarles?
���� �No, but
I mean what I say.� I�ll go to Third
National tomorrow and borrow the money.�
I promise I will.�
���� �I�m a
deacon at Third Avenue A.M.E Zion, haven�t missed a Sunday service in over ten
years,� said Mr. Quarles.� �We have a
wonderful new minister, Reverend Cochran.�
He likes to preach about being true to one�s self.�
���� Pain can
sober you up and smarten you up all at once.�
�He�s right. I shouldn�t have gambled more than I could pay.� I�ve learned my lesson.� If you�ll just let me go this one time, I
will pay you what I owe tomorrow.�� I
intended to go down to Third National and get down on my hands and knees and
beg for a loan if that was what it took.
���� �You are
patronizing me, Mr. Meade.� You looking
at this old nigger thinking you can fool his dumb ass by acting sorry.� What do you think, Morgan?�
���� �I think
we should cut his nuts off and make him swallow them,� said Morgan reaching
into a pocket of his leather jacket for a switchblade.�
���� When he
pushed the button causing the blade to appear with a loud click, it was my
signal to start to blubber.� �God, no,
please,� or something like that was all I could manage as Morgan knelt down in
front of me and took hold of my right testicle.
���� �When
respectable folks like you open their copy of the Star and see where a white
man was found castrated in his place of business, they�ll make a note to call
their bookie and make sure they don�t owe anything,� said Mr. Quarles.
���� I was
muttering, �Oh God, oh Jesus,� as Morgan prepared to separate me from my balls.� I could feel the blade against my scrotum.
���� �Or
perhaps we can make some another arrangement.�
I just had a thought.� Hold up,
Morgan,� said Mr. Quarles delaying my emasculation.� Maybe it was a last minute thought on his
part or it was all planned out beforehand.�
I never found out.
���� Mr.
Quarles thought for a moment before he spoke.�
�Are you open to other possibilities, Mr. Meade?�
���� I spoke
with all the sincerity I could muster, �Anything, just name it.�
���� �I may be
getting soft.� However, violence of this
sort strikes me as so antiquated.� You
agree, Mr. Meade?�
���� I would
have agreed the world is flat and the sun revolves around the earth.� �Yes, Mr. Quarles.�
���� �It
attracts attention.� And to be frank it�s
become dated and a little boring.� I�ve
always prided myself on being modern.�
While I don�t have a fine college education like you, Mr. Meade, you
would be impressed if you saw my operation.�
I have the latest in computers, servers, even a satellite connection to
the sports book in
���� All I
could manage was a lame, �Technology is very important.�� Morgan had relaxed his grip on my nuts but he
hadn�t let go.
���� �I just
linked up with an operation in
���� In spite
of the throbbing pain from my swollen nuts I was paying attention.� I wasn�t sure where he was going but if it
meant I got to keep my balls I was going too.�
Mr. Quarles then took a different tack and threw me a curve.� He had a way of keeping you off balance.
���� �Are you
a racist, Mr. Meade?�
���� �No, I
have three black employees. We don�t discriminate.� We pay them the same as everyone else.� Ask them about me.� I treat them fairly.�
���� �I�m a
racist.� I don�t like white people.�
���� All I
could manage was, �Oh.�
���� �White
people shit on me all my life.� I paid
them back by taking their money and when they didn�t pay what they owe, taking
their balls.� But, being here in your
place of business, I see an opportunity to make them pay in a way that will
attract less attention and be more personally satisfying.� You understand what I�m saying, Mr. Meade?�
���� He had me
confused but I was in survival mode and smartening up.� �Not fully, but if you explain it further, I
will.�
���� Mr.
Quarles took a look around at my equipment that was still set up from the day�s
filming.� �Do you have the latest
technology here, Mr. Meade?�
���� �Yes,
we�re on our third generation of digital video.�
Those Sony cameras are the highest resolution commercially
available.� They�re the same model used
to make
���� �Calm
down, Mr. Meade,� said Mr. Quarles.
���� I said,
�Yes, sir,� and shut up.� I was becoming a
quick leaner.
���� �I am
going to make you a proposition.� I will
allow you to pay your debt as soon as you can arrange a loan as long as it is
no later than the day after tomorrow.�
���� I spoke
without hesitating, �Agreed.�� Meade
Media was not leveraged and could serve as collateral.�� But all the profits for the next few years
would have to go to re-paying the loan. �Corrine would be justified to look for a
divorce lawyer.
���� �Wait
until I finish, please,� said Mr. Quarles.
���� �Sorry.�
���� �For
being so generous in your case, I expect you to help me with others like you
who believe they can gamble and lose but not pay.�
���� I spoke
up, �I�m not a violent person.�
���� �You keep
interrupting.�
���� I decided
to keep my big mouth shut.� �Terribly
sorry, won�t happen again, Mr. Quarles.�
���� �From
time to time, you and your wife will do a job for me.� Morgan and one of my crews will bring a white
woman here. Possibly, a white man, there are instances where the wife is the
one who likes to gamble.� They�ll perform
with her or him sexually.� Using your
expertise and equipment, you�ll create a pornographic video of their
performance and give me the only copy.�
They will be the stars of an adult film.�
With me so far, Mr. Meade?�
���� �Yes, I�m
with you, Mr. Quarles, but Corrine doesn�t need to be involved and I�ve never
made porn.� But that doesn�t mean I can�t
learn.�� I�d been approached several
times by sleazy types who wanted to use my facilities to make adult films.� I threw them out of my office as soon as I
found out what they wanted.
���� �Corrine
will be involved because I say so.� I
understand she is a vital part of what you do here so you need her.� She can be your fluffer.� You can�t make an adult film without a
fluffer.� As for making porn, I�m sure
you can master any difficulties associated with adult films.� I�ve heard you tell your customers you like a
challenge.�
���� �Suppose
they go to the police, Corrine and I could be arrested.�
���� �I�ve
been in business here over thirty years.�
I�ve gotten to know many of
���� I didn�t
have a choice, �I�ll do it.�
���� �You mean
we�ll do it.� After all, marriage is a
partnership.�
���� I said,
�Right, we�ll do it.� Corrine will be
there.�� Although I had almost no hope
she would agree to help me.
���� When
Morgan untied the rope, I dropped to the floor and curled up in the fetal
position, weeping.� I half expected them
to leave but everyone stood quietly as I slowly got myself together.�
���� �There�s
one more, small thing you can do for me, Mr. Meade,� said Mr. Quarles when I
had gotten to my feet.
���� �Anything,
Mr. Quarles, anything,� I said desperate to get them gone.
���� �Alex and
Sidney have taken a fancy to you, Mr. Meade.�
They�re good boys and I occasionally like to give them a little
perk.� Are you up for that?� asked Mr.
Quarles.
���� He had
lost me other than I now knew the names of the two large well built men who
were standing near by.� It wasn�t my
smartest performance not that my answer really mattered.� �I will do anything I can.�
���� �Excellent,
Mr. Meade,� said Mr. Quarles before announcing to the two, �He�s all yours.�
���� A minute
later, I was sandwiched between the two.�
They were kissing me as they undressed me.� Outside of once in middle school, I had never
had a homosexual encounter.� Neither had
I ever had the urge to have sex with a man.�
But after everything I experienced in the last half hour, I wasn�t about
to scream, �Get your fucking faggot hands off me.�� Terrified I cooperated as best as I could.
����� Mr.
Quarles and Morgan had taken a seat on a modular Italian leather sofa that was
featured in an upcoming commercial.� I
had a sense it was some kind of test.
���� The idea
that the two body builder types were gay hadn�t crossed my mind.� They undressed themselves as they undressed
me.�
���� �Looks
like an Oreo,� commented Mr. Quarles from his position on the couch.
���� He was
right.� I�m not muscular and the three of
us must have resembled the sandwich cookie.�
In spite of Corrine�s entreaties, I don�t go to the gym.� But I�m not fat either.� At an even six foot and one hundred fifty
pounds with fair skin thanks to my Nordic heritage, I was a sharp contrast to
Alex and Sidney.� They positioned me
between them as their lips and hands roamed.�
I was a skinny ass white boy pinned between two ebony body builders each
of whom has at least a hundred pounds on me.
���� Their
tongues were busy and I was too scared shitless to do anything other than act
like I was into it just as much as they were.�
Alex sucked my nipples and fondled my cock as
����� Morgan
felt the need to break his usual silence and comment.� �It makes you wonder how a faggot like that
kept that good looking wife of his happy.�
���� �Perhaps,
Mr. Meade is bisexual,� said Mr. Quarles.
���� When the three
of us were naked, they led me over to a sectional sofa.� For the second time in my life and the first
time in adulthood, I put a cock in my mouth.�
I blew Alex while
���� Looking
back on the experience I admit it could have been a hell of a lot worse.� Honestly, a brutal homosexual rape would have
seemed more likely.� But the pair took it
easy and I went along, not even protesting when they positioned me on all fours
with my butt hanging off the edge for sodomy
��� From
somewhere, Alex produced a tube of lubricant he applied to my anus before
placing his finger aside.� A second
finger followed.� I was lucky Corrine
took a positive attitude to my liking of anal play.� Her fingers and strap on dildo prepared me
for what happened next.
���� I reached
between my legs and jerked my cock as Alex�s cock head applied pressure to my
sphincter. Two callused weight lifter hand gripped my flanks as he drove
himself inside me.
���� It was a
deep breath moment as pain momentarily gripped my rectum.�
���� �Have you
ever been cornholed by a nigger, Mr. Meade?� asked Mr. Quarles.
���� Talking
while your bowel is trying to get used to a large object is not easy but I
managed somehow.� �No, this is a first
for me by anyone, Mr. Quarles.�� In my
one previous gay moment, it was my cock in his ass.
���� �Lying
motherfucker, that white boy�s ass is getting fucked regularly,� said
Morgan.�
���� Alex went
inside until I felt his ball sack slap against mine.� He pulled back then began a regular rhythm.
���� �Mr.
Morgan here has a point.� The last white
boy about died when Alex cornholed him.�
You could here him scream all the way to downtown
���� �My wife
uses a strap on dildo to fuck me in the ass,� was all I could manage between
grunts.�
���� �You
white folks are one sick race,� said Mr. Quarles leaning back in the chair.
���� Mr.
Quarles stayed quiet as his two henchmen fucked me in a half dozen
positions.� I won�t go into what it is
like to suck a cock that five seconds before was buried deep in your
asshole.� It doesn�t taste great and it
smells worse.
����
���� �Give him
the full treatment, Sid,� said Morgan.�
�Do the thing they do at the club.�
���� I had no
idea what Morgan meant or what club he was talking about.� Exhausted, sore, and still frightened out of
my skull, I lay still as
���� Moments
later, his lips were glued to mine and his tongue forced it way inside my mouth
along with a quantity of anal slime.� There
was nothing to do but swallow it as I felt
����� After we
repeated the kiss and swallow act, I was left to collapse.� I lay immobile as I heard the two dressing
behind me.� I prayed it was over.
����� A cane
poked me in the ribs.� Mr. Quarles was
standing by me.����� �Life isn�t ever
going to be the same for you. Mr. Meade.�
You�ve been fucked by two niggers and that�s a big deal for a white
man.� You�ll be hearing from Morgan when
we need you and your wife.�
���� They left
leaving me to my misery.� Thank God I made
it to the toilet before the urine and semen enema caused me to empty my bowels
with explosive force.
���� In spite
of my condition, I managed to clean up the place before climbing into my car
for the drive home where I had to face Corrine.
��� ������
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