Isobel 2 - Making Contact

The image filled half of the screen and was divided in half vertically. One side of the image was dark. The other was lit but showed only an actual desk-top, the grain of a stained wood surface. There was movement and a hand wearing four heavy gold rings came into view. The hand quite clearly belonged to an African-American man.

"Hey girl - ain't I told you punctuality is important." His voice was firm and serious but also had the tone used by a man repeating something for the umpteenth time.

"I'm here," responded an immediately familiar voice. The second half of the screen became illuminated and revealed the face of Zoe.

That was the biggest surprise so far for the watching Isobel. However, she couldn't spend time finding out more. Zoe had only gone down to the store this time and so she had to move quickly. Practice made her fast at downloading the file and setting everything in Zoe's room to rights. She was out and clear long before she heard the front door.

***

It had been a long day. Concentration on the everyday business of life and job hunting had become increasing difficult over the last few days. Today, knowing what remained unwatched on her computer, it had been well nigh impossible. Zoe had apparently suspected that something was happening - had asked her more than once if everything was alright.

That hadn't made things any easier. Isobel felt herself engulfed in the complications of what she had uncovered and it only grew more difficult as she found just how deeply her friend was involved in all of this. It wasn't just file-sharing or seeking out sexual stories and clips.

How was she supposed to react to that? Should she get in contact with her sister and Zoe's father? That would mean coming clean on just how she had found all of this out. She couldn't honestly say that she felt guilt about that because if she did she would have stopped doing it - right? However, if her snooping on Zoe wasn't a betrayal of her friend then telling her business to her parents most assuredly would be. Zoe wasn't a vulnerable minor. She was a smart young woman of twenty-one and she made her own decisions now. Her father had got ahead in life by knowing just what he wanted and being unafraid to go after it. Maybe Zoe had learned that lesson and was putting it to use. Besides, Isobel's sister and brother-in-law were pretty liberal types. If the racial aspect of all of this offended them then they wouldn't appreciate being forced to show it.

All of the above was just a tortuous minefield of potential disasters. It also kind of ignored the fact that she had known about all of this for over a week now. How could she explain her silence since then. 'Well you see sis I've been too busy jilling off to all of the interracial hardcore pornography I've stolen from your daughter's computer.' That would be just great. So each passing day made it more and more impossible to reverse her initial inactivity.

It would be a much better idea to talk to Zoe herself. Initially embarrassing perhaps but she could get over that. Except, again, what could she say? It would be too easy to come across as having the wrong motivations. To end up pushing Zoe further and faster along the route she was exploring. When it all came down to it what was a little dirty talk on the computer anyway? Just because the man on the other end was African-American that shouldn't make any difference should it? Except that it meant the man on the screen was that much more attractive for certain women. Women apparently like Zoe. Women, as Isobel now had to admit, like herself.

So her mind churned around the same old facts, the same rejected courses of action, the same eagerly grasped reasons to end up doing nothing. She was only really jolted out of her reverie at dinner when Zoe announced she was going away for two or three days. 'Staying with friends - to sort something out before she went back to college.' Those words could hide a lot. Who were the friends and just what was planned? It wasn't her place to interrogate Zoe unless she wanted to open up those multiple cans of worms.

It was so difficult and she knew what she herself really needed. Too many hours over too many nights had been spent reading those stories and watching those clips. It was all scrambling her brains. She needed a good night's sleep and then she might be able to think straight again.

***

That night she dreamed those same dreams once more. Dreams that had dominated the hours she had spent in bed over the last week. Dreams following a certain theme. Always herself, sometimes Zoe too, replacing the women in the stories and the videos. Becoming submissive playthings for Black men and offering themselves up as willing tribute. Not exactly the feminist ideal but when she was in that dream-world she felt that this was the true reality and she felt herself happy and satisfied. More than in her waking life, much more than in her failed marriage.

Waking from such a reality was always a disappointment. So it was today but she still noticed a certain change to the usual light. She glanced at the clock on the wall and saw it was nearly noon. So despite her dreaming she had also got a lot of deep sleep. She wondered about Zoe and then remembered that she had been heading off pretty early to be in the city for nine. Isobel appreciated that the younger woman had clearly decided to let her sleep on.

Isobel certainly felt better for it - especially after a wash and some cereals. The light looked wonderful outside and she decided to go for a walk. It really did her the world of good. Fresh crisp air, the welcome developing warmth of the Spring sun, the signs all around of nature's revival. She felt as she walked as if all her recent fatigue and a solid two years of serious disappointments were sloughing off her. She seemed to have escaped her recent confusion as surely as she had escaped the house's four walls. By the time she got home she knew what she should do.

On arriving back she opened the screen-door and found a parcel. It was no surprise to find Zoe's name on it. She picked it up ready to put it somewhere safe. A piece of the wrapping had been insecurely attached or had come adrift in transit. It flopped to one side and through the remaining wrapping she could very faintly make out some written letters. 'M - A - N- Z.' before a second layer obscured the letters completely.

Isobel felt her heart beat faster and the old excitement of the last two weeks return. That had to be 'Manzikert', a word used as part of a password in a lot of Zoe's secret online activities, didn't it?

Isobel took the parcel to Zoe's room and left it on the desk there. Her friend hadn't taken her laptop with her. Isobel gave the machine a glance and then turned and left the room. She felt a certain satisfaction at abiding by her new felt resolution. Later on she would delete all of the 'borrowed' files on her own computer. That was really the only thing she could do. If Zoe wanted to talk about anything then she would of course be happy to help if she could. Otherwise, she had no place interfering.

So that decision was made and she felt all the happier for it.

Except, of course, that she had at least two days in front of her and very little to do. She cooked herself a midday meal and spent the afternoon cleaning the whole house from top to bottom. She tried to get into some job-hunting but the whole idea had become a little ridiculous to her. It was more realistic to just find herself a job in retail or the like.

There were a hundred channels on the TV but nothing she wanted to watch. The momentary pleasure of her resolution had long departed. Instead she remembered the excitement of the last few days - a savour in her life that had now utterly departed. She was realist enough to understand that this was no coincidence.

That fact played its part. Allied with the fact that what she did was so easy to justify. At least it was if you wanted it that way. She never had looked at that 'log' video properly and it was perhaps the one that could actually tell her something because it was the one that featured Zoe.

So, in the end, her determination didn't last out the day. She found herself typing in the password and watching the video's opening moments again.

***

"That's not fair," said Zoe, "I'm not late and besides you know I've had a busy day."

"You went then." It was odd for the other half of the conversation to effectively be a disembodied voice. Only the man's hand appeared on camera. It had struck Isobel before that while the female participants in these videos were always shown clearly, sometimes blatantly identified, that was seldom true of the men. That had to be a power dynamic thing but if so then all participants seemed OK with it. Zoe, for instance, seemed excited to be there on camera.

"I went - I was curious I guess. It's sort of one of those things I've thought about a lot but that I kind of needed motivation to move on."

"So you found that motivation?" His voice was like melted deep chocolate now - smooth and seductive.

"You know it." That was all Zoe was giving him - for the moment at least.

"So what was it like? What did you make of our friend?"

"He was kinda funny. No I shouldn't say funny. Not funny Ha Ha anyway. Its just that he has an accent and he's kind of, what would you call it, kind of 'fussy'. Maybe a little conceited too but when he talks you know that he really does know his business."

"Just as well." His hand moved across the table in a gesture. "You have to put a lot of trust in him. I can tell you he has a real good reputation. But you already know that."

"Yeah," Zoe was thoughtful. "When I came out of there I knew he would be the one if I was going to do it."

"Still an if?"

"It was, yeah," Zoe admitted. "When I got back home though I had a real good talk with a friend of mine - someone whose judgement I trust."

"Was she in favor?"

"No - not really. She raised a few issues and objections. Pretty good ones in fact. Just like I knew she would."

She paused abut the man didn't break in. He was listening to what she had to say.

"Well," she continued, "I took all of that and weighed it against how I felt and what I've been thinking about. What you told me. How it would help me get selected. So, well anyway, he said he could fit me in next week and I'm going to do it."

"Oh yeah," his voice was deep and sonorous even through lap-top speakers, "that's my girl. It'll complete the package - get you selected for sure. I'm thinking you'll be taking your pick."

Zoe laughed - the natural laugh of a young woman relieved of a difficult decision. "I'm not sure how I'd do that - I'm just hoping to be picked."

"As in everything baby you just come to me for advice. I won't set you wrong. For now though did the good Doctor say anything about cost and projected outcomes."

"He said his normal fee is $20 000."

"You have to pay top-dollar for the best. Usually. You told him you were coming from me?"

"Yeah," she positively beamed into the camera, "Dr Nikola said it would be at cost - only $9 000."

"He's a good man. Always been a real friend to the community. What did he suggest?"

"He suggested two," she paused a little, "but he said three would be possible given my type."

"So what you thinking? You know we can make this happen and you know how soon. Remember what I said."

"I want to go for three."

A low amused laugh came over the speakers. "I kind of knew you would. Now let me see what I'm investing in and tell me again what Dr Nikola said."

Zoe reached for the top of her T-shirt and then pulled it over her head without any hesitation. "You can still see the pen marks the Doctor made." There was no hint of embarrassment in her voice.

"So they'll be up to 34DD - that right."

Zoe wiggled her seemingly perfect breasts at the camera. "That's right." Over the next couple of minutes she outlined her Doctor's advice and suggestions. Isobel, watching, took very little of that in. She was more interested in her friend's face and voice. Any trace of doubt or fear had been washed away. Instead she now sounded enthusiastic, excited at the prospect.

It seemed the man had noticed that too. It certainly explained his next remark. "34DD titties would look amazing on you girl but just looking at you I gotta say that you gonna be picked anyways most likely. Maybe you don't..."

Zoe cut him short. "I don't want to just be picked - I want to be picked first. I need this."

"Then you know what to do. Extra specially looking forward to seeing you in two weeks time girl."

The clip ended and Isobel was left looking at the lap-top. She understood exactly what she had seen and understood the implications. Zoe had undoubtedly made the phone call and then Zoe had gone away early. She reached for her phone and called her friend but it immediately went to voicemail. Zoe's phone was turned off but it really didn't matter. It was too late anyway. If it was going to happen then it had already happened.

That wasn't so serious. It wasn't as if thousands of women didn't have similar procedures every week. If this Nikola was as good as they said..." She searched on her phone and soon found press reports on Dr Nikola and the Nikola Clinic. That, at least, had been on the level. The chances were that everything would have gone according to plan. It was a concern but not her biggest one.

The biggest concern was money. $9 000 was probably a reasonable price-tag for one of the best in the business but that didn't matter if you hadn't got it and Zoe surely hadn't got it spare. Any more than Isobel herself had just at the moment. The implication of the conversation was clear. The money was coming from that unknown man. Which was OK except that you very, very, seldom got something for nothing in this world. Being in debt in circumstances like this could have serious implications.

Her past resolution, only hours old, was abandoned. She was business-like as she went to Zoe's room and once again turned on her friend's lap-top. A message immediately appeared and she went to it. A video. She wanted to see it - she needed to know exactly what Zoe had got herself into.

***

"You ready for this girl?" A female voice with a heavy Southern accent. The faintest glimpse of a pale arm above the blue latex glove as it lay on more pale skin.

"Yeah." Some nerves in this second voice, again female.

A noise started, an irritating high-pitched whine. A second gloved hand entered the shot holding a machine with a pipe running from it.

"Relax baby," the Southern voice again, "this is a real easy one. Have it done before you know it."

The first gloved hand moved now and revealed a design already traced out. The camera shifted away enough to reveal that it was positioned just above the recipient's bikini line. The camera switched to the face of a concerned looking young woman in her early twenties.

"Be cool baby," that had to be the man with the camera, "you think we ain't done this before? Gonna be fine."

The Southern woman held the tattoo needle in her gloved hand. "I'll bet once you got this one we'll be seeing you again. Izeye there reckons its addictive for us white girls." She turned off the needle. "But if you want to back out then this is sort of the last chance. You want to go ahead or not?"

"Yes I want to go ahead," there was a real edge to the young woman's voice,

A dark gloveless hand gestured across the screen. "Gonna hurt like fuck if you all tensed up like that girl. Take yourself some deep breaths and close your eyes. Once we start you gonna wonder what the big deal was."

The camera showed that she was following his advice. After a few moments the dark hand signalled again.

The needle whined once more and this time did not halt in its descent onto the sketched out design. The tattooist's attractive face, a vision of concentration, came close as she used the needle to make the design permanent, etched into the young woman's skin.

The latter was laying on a padded bench with her hand beside her. The cameraman's dark hand found it and allowed the white one to grip it and grip it hard. She was feeling it alright but nothing she couldn't handle and it seemed the gesture of support was appreciated.

The tattooist was as skilful as she was fast. Precise accurate movements of the needle pausing only to remove excess ink. The video had the fascination of watching a craftsman at work. The design was not large but that meant it required a steady precise hand. Soon half of the design had been inked in.

The camera shifted back to the recipient's face and her eyes were no longer closed. They were watching the movements of the tattooist's hands, watching the needle as it marked her skin.

Back to the design and another section had been completed. As the ink was added the lightly traced design became ever more visible to the camera. A transformation only taking minutes but which would last for a life-time.

Isobel would have put serious money on the Queen of Spades symbol and she would basically have been right. However, this was no crude dark mark. The outline was of the spade symbol but within it were swirling patterns. As it was completed you could see the 'Q' within that spade. Obvious if you were looking for it and given its location this was a blatant symbol of its owner's sexual preferences.

Finally the needle halted and the noise ceased. "Not so bad was it," soothed the Southern voice of the tattooist.

"Ange has done you proud," the camera shifted and showed a powerfully-built African-American man as he collected a mirror to show off the completed work. Interesting that he wasn't worried about showing himself or, apparently, about his name being used. Hadn't it been Isaiah or something the like?

The young woman looked at the image in the mirror and for the first time in the clip she smiled.

The screen went dark and words appeared, a variation on the usual theme. 'Score for Madison confirmed - 50 points for ink. Check DeSV for the latest confirmed score.'

Isobel glanced at he clock on the wall. She had let herself get drawn into watching that video the whole way through. It was just as well that time wasn't an issue. Zoe was away for at least another day and she had all night if necessary. She was determined to find out all that she possibly could. Apart from anything else she knew she could never sleep until she knew more.

The videos were a distraction - she had learned that. Even on this computer only the most recent 'log' video seemed playable. She opened e-mail but found just over 4000 stored messages. She ran through a few pages but none seemed connected to her search. That could almost literally take forever. For the moment she was puzzled as to the way forward.

Then her glance moved off the screen and to the other item on the desk. The package that she herself had put there earlier. This would be a new level of spying on her friend but Isobel managed to convince herself that she was really only doing any of this to help Zoe so it wasn't really so bad or indeed even bad at all.

She carefully undid the package making sure that she could reseal it when the time came. It was clothing and remembering Zoe's trunk in her closet that made sense. Where else would she have got all those provocative items?

First up was a standard T-shirt. Across its white chest in two broad lines of black lettering was written, 'My Black Daddy Bought Me These Titties'. If Zoe wore it for her next webcam session then that would be the literal truth.

There were two other items. First was a crop-top again in white, cut to leave the navel and belly exposed. It seemed a little out of place. Didn't lots of women wear things like this to the beach? She looked a little more closely and saw the small design on one breast. A logo. It showed the line of a white torso with a bulging belly and a Black baby inside. Around the logo was, 'Black Baby Momma in Training'.

Maybe there weren't so many women wearing them then. She couldn't help imagining herself doing just that though. She felt the excitement surge through her and had to consciously get a grip on herself. Such thoughts were such a distraction!

The final item of clothing was a dress but seemed strangely bulky and heavy. Isobel held it up to get a better view and gasped. This time she couldn't resist the temptation. When would she get another opportunity? She stripped down, remembering this time to remove her underwear. Then she pulled the dress over her head. Again it was a little short since it was meant for Zoe but on these dresses ending well above the knee didn't seem at all out of place.

The dress had felt odd when she handled it for a reason. It was heavily padded at the front. Producing an extremely noticeable bulge. The intention was obvious and it was successful. Isobel went to the mirror and turned this way and that. It was very realistic in producing the effect of a heavily pregnant belly. It even had a weight to it. That wasn't the first thing anyone would notice though. Printed across the front of the bulge in the light blue dress, within an extremely distinct yellow diamond, were the words,

'Black Baby On Board'.

If wearing the dress here was a curious sensation then imagining wearing it in public was way more intense. She envisioned herself walking along the street, perhaps arm-in-arm with that handsome Black guy from the tattoo parlor. Everyone's eyes would be out on stalks! Maybe he'd want to take her to his neighborhood bar and show her off to his Black friends. Let them all know what a hot little white slut he had knocked up.

What the fuck! She had to get a grip on herself. She thought about taking the dress off but relented at least long enough to take a few pictures of herself in the mirror. More pictures that would have to be kept very, very, private.

Back in her own clothes she inspected all three items more closely. They had washing instruction tags but no other identification. Made to order perhaps? They really told her nothing except what she already knew - the men behind this were very organised.

She picked up the remains of the package and turned it upside down. A small piece of paper fluttered down onto the floor. She bent and picked it up.

'Just like you asked - maybe soon we'll make it for real. OGdaHsl5? w!'

The note told her nothing new about the men's desires. However, it did very much tell her something about Zoe's. So soon after experiencing her own feelings when wearing the dress she couldn't in all conscience be surprised let alone shocked. If she had learned anything in the last week it was how quickly your fantasies and previously repressed desires could take you further than you would ever have imagined possible. Had it been the same for Zoe?

However, what interested her most about that note was the signature, if you could call it that. The jumble of letters and numbers. It might be a key to at least uncovering part of this. In all honesty it seemed about her only chance of doing so.

She searched Zoe's lap-top once more but this time she got a result. A single e-mail signed six months before. This had been going on that long? A quick multiplication of possible two-week gaps between 11 'logs' suggested that was about right. It just confirmed what Isobel already knew. Zoe had been serious about this for a long time. Her decisions of the last few days had not come out of nothing.

The e-mail was an invitation. It contained a link also apparently made up of meaningless numbers and letters. Isobel knew she was on the brink of a break-through. She clicked the link. A new browser opened, notable largely for a purple color-scheme. There was little of note bar a prominent button labelled 'connect'. She pressed it and after a few moments the screen flashed up a simple message.

'Link expired.'

"Shit!" Isobel wasn't particularly given to obscenity but her frustration demanded to be given verbal form. "Fucking useless thing."

Well swearing felt cathartic but it didn't progress her researches any. She tried to think it out calmly. Something had to have caused that e-mail to be written. She turned her search to the 'sent' folder for the two or three weeks before the assumed answer had been received.

She struck gold almost immediately. Zoe had e-mailed them only fourteen minutes before that invitation had arrived in response.

'Hi

I am a regular on 'H-TDF' discord (I'm WGB2004) and they've been telling me about what you do. I'm really interested and want to learn more. Maybe be a part of it?

Zoe.'

Now she was onto the track for real. Isobel quickly discovered the existence of the 'H-Town Desires and Fantasies' group but their discord was very much invitation only. You needed an existing member as a contact and Isobel was in no position to have one. She was not, for example, a college student in H-Town.

However, as of now she didn't need to be. She had the link directly.

Isobel quickly drafted an enquiry and then remembered to send it from her own lap-top.

'Hello

I have heard about what you do from the H-TDF discord. Is there still time to find out more and maybe get involved?

Isobel.'

She sent the message and half of her expected to get a response almost immediately as Zoe had. However, the screen remained stubbornly blank. She had reached a dead end for the moment but she had also done all that she could. She tried Zoe's phone once more but it was still off. Then she went to bed.

***

The image was a close-up. Pale skin contrasting with the black ink of a familiar tattoo. That same spade image with swirling patterns inside it that formed a 'Q' if you knew what to look for. The camera eased back and now a shaved pussy was visible below the tattoo.

A black shape appeared and the camera auto-focused onto a very dark-skinned cock. It was too close to the camera for proper perspective but it looked big. It looked even more impressive after its owner laid it down against the woman's belly. Thick, hard, cock stretching up from well below the pussy to beyond the tattoo and the navel.

Isobel paused the video and went over to the chest in Zoe's cupboard. Inside she found the boxed sex-toy modelled on porn star Julius Flint. He had crossed over into the mainstream enough for even Zoe to have heard of him. However, she had assumed that the toy was a form of false advertising. Cocks did not come that big.

She had no intention of using the toy. That would have been way too much in more than one way. However, she wanted to compare something. She stood by her lap-top and held the unboxed toy against her body. Mirroring the image on the screen she could see that the toy was bigger, but only by perhaps a half an inch at most. Maybe it was a little more accurate to the original than she had suspected.

She unfroze the video as she carefully replaced the toy in its box. On screen the Big Black Cock moved and tapped gently on the softer flesh of the woman's belly. Gently moving the still-visible tattoo.

"Who does this pussy belong to girl?" A complacent deep drawl of a voice.

Its Madison pussy - belongs to all you Madison men."

"Fuck right. When we've won the competition. What about then? You going back to white boys?"

There was a giggle in response as the hard Black meat of his cock eased down her belly and then pushed forward, teasing the lips of her pussy.

"Tell me girl - tell me so I'll give you want you wanting."

"This pussy is bare Black only."

The cock's angle was slightly adjusted by a dark hand and the next push forward took him into her pussy. Dark skin pushing home. A welcoming half-sigh, half-moan of approval coming from his woman.

He might not have quite measured up to Julius Flint but this man was still big. Much bigger than Isobel had ever seen, let alone felt. Rather bigger than she imagined was comfortable unless the man really knew his business.

As she watched she had confirmation of a phenomenon that she had noticed before when watching these videos. She felt a visceral, primal, attraction to that contrast in skin-tones. The dark skin of the cock just made it seem larger, more powerful, more attractive. To her and also apparently to Zoe and the women in the clips. She wasn't alone in understanding the message of that beautiful Big Black Cock claiming a white pussy. Once she had grasped that much it wasn't hard to move beyond that simple truth. To compare what she was seeing with what she had experienced in the past.

She could not resist the temptation and now went to find her own vibrator. At least she didn't have to worry about Zoe hearing her! Not that it would matter anyway given what Zoe might be getting up to at this moment. Her blonde friend might end up being the 'star' of the next video. Zoe would certainly look amazing with one of these big Black guys.

Isobel experienced a momentary spasm of guilt at thinking about her friend like that. Guilt stifled and extinguished by the power of the pictures on her screen, by the power of the thoughts in her mind. Most of all by the fact that Zoe wanted it and the realisation that, however she might want to deny the fact, Isobel totally understood and shared that desire.

His big cock was almost hidden now at every thrust forward. Disappearing into the white girl's body to emerge glistening slightly. His partner had been ready for him, her pussy prepared and warm and wet for him. Eager to take all of him and to feel all of him. One thing was absolutely clear and obvious - this man certainly did know his business. His increase in tempo was almost too small to notice but over time his pace did quicken. Accepting all that she could give him at any moment. Becoming a perfect partnership.

Isobel knew that what she was feeling was only a fraction of what the woman on screen was feeling but it was good and hot none the less. Until she glanced down and saw her little pink vibe. That sort of killed a good half of the moment. It just didn't look right. She dropped the vibe and replaced it with her fingers. She sent her eyes back to the screen and let her mind take her back to that other place. The place where things were as they should be. A man who knew how to fuck, how to please his woman, dark flesh and white flesh together, contrasting but united. A Black alpha male claiming by right his reward, his privilege, his woman.

"Oh fuck," Isobel gasped as she felt her climax hit her. Not earth-shattering perhaps but very much real. The product of her vibe and then her fingers but much more of her mind. The images and desires that she now allowed free rein there.

"Fuck yeah," came from the screen. The long Black cock slowly withdrew from her pussy, retaining its firmness until finally the head, carrying a last heavy drop of cum, emerged. The camera moved to shoot up her body. Showing her face in the background and in the foreground a cum-filled white pussy.

"You know the brothas from Stratford still got 150 points on us - them fuckers been upping their game. If we gonna win we gotta match and beat them. You up for it girl?"

He tapped his softening Black cock against her belly.

"You know I am. So its time?"

He hummed his approval. "Yeah - three months should be enough. Let them Stratford brothas know the game ain't over till its over."

Isobel didn't understand any of the last part but that very fact only super-charged her curiosity. She knew that this video had to have been taken a couple of months ago. The usual card confirmed a single point for Madison. Not much towards a 150 point deficit but clearly an unspoken extra commitment had been requested and willingly granted. What was it? She could imagine a number of possibilities but imagining was beginning to not be enough. She needed to know.

***

Curiosity had always been a big part of Isobel. The desire to know, to find out, to uncover. It was only magnified, or perhaps in this case enabled, by her concern for Zoe. She needed to know what was going on and what lay behind this. Perhaps to stop her friend going too far, stepping into something from which she would find it hard or impossible to retreat.

That was all very well and good but it wasn't concern for Zoe that set the blood pumping through Isobel as she discovered the messaged reply the following morning.

"What we do ain't for everyone. Send your details and a photo ID and we'll talk about it. Just be aware you'll be expected to be on camera with no filters or covers."

Unsigned. Really explaining nothing. She sent back a reply anyway.

"Why do you need my ID?"

She went to tidy away the breakfast things and came back to find a new reply.

"Why do I need to tell you anything?"

Point taken. She was going no further unless she followed his requirements. Even if those requirements felt more like demands than expectations.

Did the latter really matter now? She knew that she needed to go on even if it broke all the rules of security on-line and almost of common sense. However, since he was there she felt the need to show some agency.

"Can I know who you are?"

The response came within a minute

"Maybe some time - or maybe not. Meanwhile, this ends unless you come through with that ID. Nice and clear with nothing blurred or distorted. Understand."

It was crystal clear and she was too wrapped up in the moment, in her pursuit of the person at the other end of the connection, to hesitate. She had thought through all of the potential negatives but none of that survived contact with those words on the screen. She needed to do this.

Isobel went and found her driver's license. She took a picture and then put it up on screen. One edge was obscured where she held it That was not what he had asked for. She propped the license up against her desk-tidy and tried again. That was more like it. She spent a moment looking into the face of the young woman on screen. Felt some of her anxieties about this coming back. Quickly she attached the image to a blank message and sent it off. There - now any further worry was made pointless. The die had been cast.

She waited, feeling the prickle of anxiety across her skin. It seemed like forever but it really was only another minute.

"We're interested. I'll send a link and you join up there at 9 tonight."

"Can't we do it now?" Isobel feared her hesitations, her worries and her common sense. She was ready for this now. After hours of re-consideration she might not be.

"Seems you don't know how to follow instructions. You come with us and we'll put that right. If that picture is accurate it looks to be worth our while but maybe we'll find out at nine. Wear something nice."

"What do you like?" She messaged back but got no more replies.

A glance at the clock showed far too many hours to wait until nine that evening. She found her phone and rang Zoe. It still went to messages. She decided to go for a run. She needed to think.

***

Isobel had taken a longer than usual run that morning. Letting the rhythmn of physical movement take her into a sort of meditation. She knew deep down that she needed to be sensible about this. That might mean reporting Zoe missing if she continued to remain out of contact. There had been something about the tone of that last message.

No woman was inexperienced in hearing some version of that from men. She had certainly heard it from her ex-husband often enough. Not as a threat but as an assured assumption of superiority. Coming from her ex-husband it had been ridiculous. Indeed it had become ever more ludicrous as time had passed. He just didn't measure up to his own pretensions in any way. Far from a threat his preening nonsense had just been tedious.

Those words on the screen had been different. She could perhaps assume they belonged to the man in contact with Zoe. However, she knew him only as a hand on a screen and a voice through lap-top speakers. Had he been in any of the other videos, the sexual encounters? She had no idea. Her lack of any such knowledge should have set alarm bells ringing all over the place, In fact it did do just that but Isobel tried really hard to ignore them. This wasn't just a man at the end of a computer. This was an organization and that much was very clear. The alarms sounded louder and louder but she still sought an excuse not to acknowledge them.

Almost before she knew it she was turning back into the last leg of her run. A pleasant slight fatigue, the spring sunshine drawing beads of perspiration onto her forehead. She heard the chime of her phone even above all of those internal alarm bells. She kept jogging as she reached for it and pressed the button.

"Hi."

"Hi."

That broke the mood and had Isobel ease down to a stop. "Where have you been - I've been calling you."

"What about? Is something wrong there?" Zoe's voice showed anxiety now.

"No - I thought you might be in trouble. I..." How could she explain the basis for those concerns. She thought fast. "I, er, I mean you never have your phone off."

There was Zoe's giggle of amusement. "I'm at a spa and no electronic devices is rule number one. Its amazing - but I thought I'd let you know I'm taking another three or four days here. Just chilling you know."

'Just chilling.' Rest and recuperation from her boob job more like. However, Zoe sounded happy and OK which was really all that mattered. Isobel wondered for a moment how Zoe planned on hiding the results of her operation when she did come back.

"Sounds great," is what Isobel actually said. "Hey but aren't those places expensive?"

"I'm super lucky. One of my friends knows the owner of this place. I kinda want to take advantage of it you know." There was her giggle again.

"Well I can't blame you - I'll see you in three days then."

"It might be four - I'll let you know in a couple of days. Anyway I've gotta bounce and give my phone up again. Bye babe."

Isobel barely had time to reply in kind before the connection was cut. She slowly started to jog again for the last part of her run home. At least she knew Zoe was OK and apparently happy enough. However, there had been a certain amused accent applied to those words, 'one of my friends.'

What did that mean? Was it the man she had been communicating with earlier that day? Was it part of this Doctor Nikola's rather expensive treatment? One thing was for sure - it would not be one of the 'college friends' Zoe was supposed to be hanging out with.

Whatever the truth of that it was clear that Zoe wasn't being forced into doing anything against her will. So the need to report anything had gone. Telling her sister about all of this really would seem like a betrayal. Maybe if she was an aunt rather than a step-aunt she might have thought differently but that was not the case. If anything was to be found out or followed up on then it really was down to her and her alone.

So a quarter to nine o'clock found her seated in front of her lap-top. She hadn't exactly got a wardrobe like Zoe's but she had hunted around for something appropriate or perhaps appropriately inappropriate.

In the end she had settled on a mauve top that had once been a favorite but now fitted a little snugly for the average shopping trip. She wasn't hugely curvy but this top could kind of fool you a little. It also left her arms and shoulders bare while showing a nice little cleavage. She pondered over wearing a short skirt before she remembered a pair of cut-off jean shorts that she'd almost thrown out when she had last packed her clothes up. In her late teens she had won them a lot - showing off a nice bit of leg and show-casing her behind. As a wife she had never worn then and as an ex-wife they didn't seem much more appropriate. However, for tonight they might just be perfect.

Her messages showed the expected link received from the usual meaningless string of numbers and letters. She clicked it and a prompt arrived for a download. She recognised the program involved and she was no expert but it made sense. Thanking her lucky stars that she had thought to make a full back-up of her system that afternoon, just in case, she approved the download. Soon her screen matched the one she had seen on Zoe's machine. A purple color-scheme and a very prominent 'connect' button. She pressed it and this time there was no 'invalid link' page displayed.

Instead she saw a screen. One side was blank but a dialogue box flashed up asking her to connect her camera She did so and immediately saw herself on one side of her monitor. The other half remained basically blank. Only by looking closely did she see it was the top of a desk or work-surface. Utterly unidentifiable from a million of such across the country.

A count-down emerged on the screen flashing down second-by-second from ten to one. She might have panicked a little but suddenly remembered to check her microphone and speakers were on.

"Very good." His voice came over her speakers like a deep smooth wave. "Here on time just like you was told. That's fine. More important - you are matching your photo girl. Very nice indeed - some real potential for what we might have in mind."

"Thanks," seemed a silly thing to say but Isobel couldn't think of anything else. Her heart was beating fast in her chest and it was hard to get any words past a strangely dry throat.

"So I'm seeing a ring there."

'Oh damn,' she thought to herself. She had intended to take that off but had forgotten. Would that ruin everything?

"So you married," persisted the voice, "to a brotha or some white boy?"

"My husband was white but we are separated." She moved to take the ring off.

"No," the voice calmly stopped her, "leave it on girl. Nothing better for us than some dumb white boy putting a ring on a piece way too fine for him ever to keep. Makes her coming over to see us all the sweeter. Never gets old - no matter how many times it happens."

"It happens a lot?" She asked hoping that she hadn't visibly reacted to his 'compliment' nearly as much as she suspected that she had.

"Happens all the time girl. Ain't you the living proof? White boy's wife all eager to be the Black man's plaything. Ain't that what we here for?"

She had realised that was what this was all about, of course, hadn't she seen enough videos and read enough stories? However, it was still a shock to have it stated in so matter-of-fact a way. For this man, she realised, this was nothing unusual. It was just the way things were.

"So lets get down to business girl. Set that camera up right and then get up out of that chair. Let a man see what he's got to work with."

This was not the way a man was supposed to speak to a woman. It was not a way that Isobel had ever tolerated being spoken too. However, somehow, this felt different. That deep smooth voice was heavily loaded with natural authority but also with amusement. It didn't seem threatening, instead it seemed more of an invitation to role-play. To be someone you previously hadn't been allowed to be. Maybe hadn't allowed yourself to be.

If she was going to react negatively then this first moment was the time to do it. She knew that then as well as afterwards. Instead she simply stood up and checked her screen to see that she was properly in shot. Not because he had told her to do that but because she wanted to do that. She wanted to find out what this was all about but that perhaps wasn't the only or even the main reason. She didn't feel inclined to explore her motives too deeply at this moment. Instead she just wanted to go with the vibe because she found herself enjoying that vibe. Enjoying it a lot.

She stood in front of the unblinking lens of the camera. Stood for what seemed minutes before she spoke. "What would you like me to do, err. What should I call you?" A name would be a good lead.

"Hush there girl," his voice had more than just a trace of amusement now. "You've gotta let a brotha drink in that sight. You are one fine piece of tail and no mistake. Talking of which - just take a hold of that chair and lean over it."

She knew what he wanted. She had wide hips and a quite large rump, especially for a white woman. It sometimes made her feel a little bottom-heavy but she also knew the cliché that some African-American men really loved to see a girl with curves back there. Not much of a consolation - until this moment anyway.

Isobel took a hold of the top of her chair and leaned forward over it, letting her butt stick out. The jean shorts had surely been a good choice. They hid nothing about her curves and she essayed a wiggle for the camera.

"Fuck yeah - gotta love a white girl with some booty. Bend them knees girl and shake that money-maker for me."

She did just as he asked. Just as it seemed natural to do. Bending her knees and shaking her ass. Trying to remember to keep herself directed into the camera's lens at just the right angle. It didn't come naturally - such a provocative sexual display. That had never really been her style.

'Because I never met a man worth doing this for.' The thought flashed through her mind. So why was this man worth it? She didn't know anything about him. Not even his name or what he looked like. All she knew was that dark skin-tone and his voice redolent with calm authority. Was that all it took?

She felt her thighs begin to protest at the unusual activity. She kept herself fit but intensive twerking had never been on Isobel's roster of exercises. She kept going through that slight discomfort. Wasn't it worth it? To please her man.

'Her man'. Where had that come from? Was she so desperate after the collapse of her marriage? Was she reacting to that misery in classic rebound style? She didn't care. She just knew that in this moment she wanted to please the man watching her. She didn't want to seem weak or unwilling to do as he asked. That realisation suddenly mattered to her and it mattered a lot.

"Take a seat baby," he said, "I can see you're not used to that."

So he had noticed after all. She felt disappointed in herself but it taught her a lesson about him.

"You look fit as fuck girl. But you ain't a dancer?"

Now she felt a little deflated. She thought she had been doing OK. "I jog and go to the gym."

"Yeah, I reckoned so. Well jogging fit ain't the same as dancing fit I guess. Just as well with them curves you can get away with most anything. Still I'll send you an exercise sheet. Twerking, squats and such. From tomorrow you do at least thirty minutes a day, record them and send the video to me. Now you hear that's not some days or maybe that's every day and always. You hear me?"

"Yes, um," she realised he hadn't answered her earlier question. "I'm sorry to ask again but what should I call you?"

His response was a relaxed, positively complacent, chuckle. "You want to call me anything then you can call me Sir - is that a good enough answer for you?"

"Yes sir." The words were out of her mouth before she even knew it. Said and unable to be unsaid. Even if she wanted to.

"Good. Now there's jogging fit and there's dancing fit. We got to get you dancing fit and you know why don't you girl?"

"No," she admitted.

"Because dancing fit is close as we can get to fucking fit girl. That's what you gonna need to be if you want to be part of this. Ready in body, ready in mind, ready in soul. You want to be all those things girl?"

"Yes sir." Again the response was automatic - no need for thought or consideration. She didn't know quite how it had happened but it was undeniable. Maybe it had been the long build-up, her discoveries about Zoe, her own destroyed self-confidence. Any or probably all of them played a part but there was something else too. Growing up you knew some things were unobtainable, were beyond the pale. Social rules were one thing but you also knew that you probably wouldn't interest the sort of man that you really wanted. To risk all of that only to be rejected was unthinkable.

Well she wasn't being rejected. This man's compliments were sexually-charged and often somewhat crude but they were also undeniably genuine. She knew how that realization made her feel. She knew that she wanted more and she knew just how to secure more. She wanted, no she needed, to please this man.

"Back here tomorrow at eight. So long as I get that first proof of exercise tomorrow. We don't play around and ain't got no space for time-wasters you understand. But you have surely got potential. I'll send you a clip to let you know what I'm thinking just at this moment.

"Hey..." she started but the link ended. She had wanted to keep him on for a little longer but well he was the one in charge. That was clear enough and surprisingly alright by her. She needed a guide through this and who better?

She checked her messages and there was a download link. She reached to click it but then changed her mind. Instead she went to her draws and opened one. Inside was her little pink vibe. If he had thought of her in connection to this clip then she would think of him as she watched it.

***

"Just wait! It's not so easy on camera." The young woman's voice was pitched at exasperated but there was clearly something underlying it. Amusement or excitement or both?

The first thing noticeable was that she was sat on a toilet. The second was what she was wearing. A tight dark red almost purple top with a pair of jean shorts, though they were round her ankles now.

"Forget the camera. Look the other way. Its only here because you know it has to be. Too many fakers and time-wasters otherwise. Besides we need the points." This second voice was also female.

"Yeah but its not you having to do this."

"In a couple of days it will be - then you can hold the fucking camera!"

The young woman on screen laughed and put her hand to her mouth. The camera shook a little as her friend also laughed.

Then the girl very pointedly turned away from the camera and seemed to stare at the ceiling. After a few moments there was the soft tinkle of liquid. The camera caught her reaching for a small plastic pot and then holding it to collect some of her own pee.

"See - its easy," said her friend. "Now I've got the strips."

The camera never left that small transparent pot of golden liquid. There was no cut as the pot was placed on a surface beside a sink or when something was placed into the pot with its tip absorbing some of the liquid. The camera held until one clear line showed.

Then the first young woman bent to examine it before flourishing it in front of the camera. "There," her voice held a note of triumph, "that's twenty points."

"Not yet it ain't - but it sure as fuck soon will be." This new voice was deep and masculine. Its owner reached an arm to the young woman who took his hand without hesitation.

His muscles tensed and he pulled her to him. Her small pale body against his larger dark one. As usual the camera did not show the man's face but their bodies' attitude showed that they were kissing.

"Get a room guys," came from behind the camera. Its tone aimed for humor but fell a little short. There was an edge to her words now. Was it anxiety or anticipation? It was hard to tell.

The kiss broke. "Yeah - I been waiting on tonight way too long." There was an edge to his voice now too but it was far easier to define. Desire.

He led them out of the bathroom and through to a barely furnished and decorated room, barely furnished save for the big bed. It had no blankets only a sheet and there was a bright light shining in the room. This place was made for a purpose and that purpose was certainly not sleeping.

Some of the other videos had a stationary camera but in this one the camera moved, obviously operated by the second young woman. Careful to avoid showing the man's face but that was probably a wasted effort. The inked tattoos visible against his dark skin would have served to identify him. Names, crosses, a pistol and a set of dates. Some were clearly professional and others more crude.

Strong dark fingers grasped the bottom of the first girl's top and pulled it up over her head as they walked. Revealed her pale skin clearly against the dark of his chest. His hands rose to her breasts, fingers teasing already hard nipples. The young woman looked up into his face and gasped, her eyes alight with anticipation.

"Fuck yeah," came from behind the camera again, "that is so fucking hot. You're slaying it guys." There was no mistaking the excitement in her voice now. Excitement at what was about to happen to her friend and what would soon be happening to her.

The couple ignored her. They were deep into the moment. A casual movement and he had picked her up and laid her on the bed. A hand reached for her and his finger found her and explored. The camera caught her looking up at him, her body ready for him and her breathing coming fast now.

"Yeah - thass what I'm talking about. That's what a man wants. Tell me girl - what's this man want?" His voice was assured, certain of getting all that he might desire.

"Pussy," she replied in a faint voice that carried a hint of a croak. She cleared her throat and corrected herself more assuredly. "White pussy."

"Kinda," his voice was playful now. "Never gonna turn down some premium white pussy but tonight I'm getting something extra special ain't I." He moved his body forward and let his hard cock lay against her body. It was powerfully dark against the pale skin of her belly and it reached up beyond her navel. "Getting me a real Grade A treat tonight ain't I. What I got here girl?"

"Fertile white pussy," she replied. The croak and the faintness were gone now.

"Fuck yeah," from behind the camera.

"Gonna fuck this fertile white pussy and plant my seed good and deep, coat them eggs of yours. You know that don't you girl. Man sees a fine little bitch like you and he wants her carrying his babies. Thass just natural, thass just the way it's meant to be." He eased back and let his hard cock slide down her belly and to the entrance of her pussy. The camera moved in close.

"You ready girl."

"Yeah."

"Fuck yeah you are girl - you was made for this." His words were quietly spoken but they were also direct and meaningful. He eased forward and pushed the head of his Black cock against her. She gave a little gasp as her body accepted him, her pussy wet and ready for him.

"Fuck but that's good pussy." Those were his last words for a while. He was concentrating fully on gauging his movements and making sure to claim an extra part of her with every thrustt forward. His lean, dark, tattoo-marked body laying down over hers, his solid muscular chest against her hard nipples, his mouth on hers. With his hips all the while keeping up their persistent movement. Strangely gentle but none the less demanding for all of that. He wanted her, he wanted all of her and he wanted all that she could give him.

Their kiss broke and the man pushed himself up and off her. He was perhaps thirty years of age and was a man who kept himself in shape. No weakness and no flabbiness. Just raw natural power and strength. An alpha male intent on claiming his due.

"Oh fuck..." It wasn't a wail or a shout from the young woman. Just a realization perhaps. This man wasn't going to stop until he got what he wanted and she had to have known that for some time. In the camera's images, however, you could see that perhaps for the first time she had grasped that she herself wanted that too. She wanted all of it - no half-measures or hesitations. It wasn't a game any more. It was for real and she wanted and needed it to be that way. "Oh fuck me - yes!"

He grasped her legs and pulled her closer to him, held those legs up now. Allowed the camera to catch the slight quiver there as his strong dark hands held them up. Now he began to build his rhythmn and the power of his thrusts. The girl wanted to fuck then she had come to the right place and at just the right time.

Her friend behind the camera recorded that for a while but then switched to the young woman's face. Her mouth was half-parted, blood coloring her cheeks, her eyes wide and sparkling. Eyes that were fixed on her man as he fucked her, as he bred her. Totally in the moment, grasping and savouring every aspect of its intensity.

"He's breeding you girl," the woman behind the camera almost whispered. There was a hint of disbelief in those words. Perhaps a moment of realization there too. As the man had said she herself would be in that same position in a week's time. Her man working hard to seed her, to put a Black baby in her. To change her and her life for ever. Did she regret it or did she embrace it? Her next words gave the answer. "He's gonna knock you up babe."

Another almost whisper but loud enough for her friend to hear. Loud enough for the words to penetrate her consciousness and to trigger her reaction. Bright blue eyes closed as her mouth opened wider in an initially silent cry. Not of despair or of fear but of pleasure and of ecstasy.

"BRRRRRRRRREEEEEEEEEEEEEDDD MEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEE!!!!"

The words burst out of her and carried it seemed almost all of the breath in her young body. That body bucked in his hands but their strength kept her where he need her to be so that his Big Black Cock could keep fucking her, demanding and remorseless. Her pleasure just made it better for him too, made her more receptive to how this needed to end.

As her climax peaked he was picking up his pace another notch. Each thrust forward claiming every part of her for himself and his brothas. Knowing he was taking her through that peak and on to another and another and another. Her body prepared for just this moment by Mother Nature. Preparing her to be a mother herself.

He was a powerful man, experience and plenty of practise meant that he knew how to please a woman. However, he was still just a mortal man and his woman tonight was young and beautiful and fertile. He had been looking forward to this moment since he had first set eyes on her and his body was ready to play its part.

"Too fucking fine..." His words almost remorseful as he felt the surge within him, knew that he was cumming good and deep in the young woman. Not at the consequences of his actions but rather at the temporary conclusion of them. It didn't really matter. They would be doing this again, doing this at every available opportunity. Making sure that they got the job done. He hadn't been fronting. This girl really was premium and premium white girls were made to be Black men's baby-mommas. It was just a matter of getting them to the point where they realised it.

Every spurt of potent African DNA-enriched cum deep into this one proved his success in doing just that. She wasn't the first, far from it, but every single one of those victories retained the power and sweetness of that first one.

"Uh oh," giggled the woman behind the camera. "Looks like he shot a huge load."

He was just powering down with a few last deep strokes. Making sure she got all his seed, making sure what was already there was pushed good and deep. Coating her eggs just like he had promised. Finally he let his cock slip out of her, its job done. The camera caught the cum on its shaft, the cum at the entrance of her pussy. Proof that much, much, more had been put where it needed to be.

The camera shifted. Handed over to the man and it now showed a second young white woman's face as she licked his cock clean. No words had been spoken. Again it just seemed to come naturally. Everyone there knew their role. His free hand tapped the first girl's hip. "That was fucking phat girl. Piece like you inspires a man." He gave a low rumbling laugh of pure pleasure.

Camera girl kissed the head of his softening cock and looked up into the lens. "Did you ruin her for the white boys?" A question delivered with such teasing fake concern that he laughed again.

"Fuck - you both way too fine to be wasted on any limp-dicked white boy. Always were. Just that now this one understands that. Next week you will too. Meanwhile you know what you here for. Best get to work or your fiend there's gonna have a date with the maternity ward."

She didn't need telling twice. Her head ducked down between her friend's legs and her mouth found that well-fucked pussy. Began cleaning her up and then let her tongue and fingers explore in search of that rich, premium, Black seed.

The camera moved up to the first girl's face. She saw it coming and her eyebrows flickered upwards for a moment before she smiled. An open, blissful, smile. One of he purest satisfaction and fulfilment.

Isobel just had time to lean forward and freeze the play-back with her free hand. She wanted to capture that moment as she continued to use her vibrator. She wanted to look into those eyes, to somehow share that moment. She knew that she had never been where the girl on camera was in that moment. Throughout Isobel had most enjoyed those moments when the camera had shown the girl's face. It had been a open book. Showing the emotions and sensations which had claimed her. Emotions and sensations of a power and intensity that Isobel knew she had never felt.

Just thinking about how that girl was feeling in the moment, combined with her vibe, was enough for her. She came and came hard. Enjoyed the surge of feeling and emotion even as, deep down, she knew that this was merely a second-hand high. The same as reading all of those sexy stories. However, it still felt damned good!

That night until she slept, all the next day until her appointment with the man, she already knew that the thoughts would be growing in her mind. If the second-hand high was so good then what must it be like to feel the real thing? Just an idle curiosity perhaps but Isobel had always been a very curious person. She liked to know the answer to such things.

***

Finally she had let the video play out its final few seconds to the end-card that she had known would be there.

'Score for Heights confirmed - 20 points for a primed fuck, 1 point for a creampie on camera. Check DeSV for the latest confirmed score.'