The Hanjub Syndrome



Beverly’s secret was becoming more difficult to conceal. The amount of time she spent away from home with Rusty was starting to be noticed, but she could not help herself. She felt completely out of control with the man, and cursed herself for never being able to break it off for long. The desire, the raw lust, the dizzying unreality of her time with him was irresistible. She had never done more than experiment with drugs, but she felt she had a perfect understanding of someone addicted to crack or heroin, someone who would throw their life away in pursuit of the next opportunity to get high.

So when she secreted herself in the bedroom and called him just to hear his voice, she should have anticipated he would demand to see her. She told David and the kids she was going to show a home and left to meet him. When she arrived at the parking lot and climbed into the back of his camper van, she leapt into his arms. After a long embrace he began removing her clothes, and she assisted, feeling she could not get him inside her too quickly. As her bra and panties fell to the floor, he told her to turn around. She loved the way he commanded her, and she obeyed immediately and leaned forward with her hands against the cabinets above the small sink.

Unexpectedly, he slipped a black, silk hood over her head and pulled the drawstring loosely around her neck. The man was always a surprise. Even though there were several small holes, her breathing began to swell as she imagined what he might have in store for her. As her mind raced at the delights to come, he turned her around, and tied her wrists together with what felt like a soft, thick rope. He forced her to the back of the camper, and onto the bed, and secured her hands above her head, leaving her helpless to resist. “Oh, yes. Fuck me, Rusty,” she said. Instead, she heard the sound of a vibrator being turned on, and then felt Rusty slip the familiar egg shaped object inside her already wet cunt. She embraced the analeptic by closing her thighs and moaned, “Oh God, it feels good.”

Next, she heard the van start, and felt it pull away causing her to shudder with what was to come. He no doubt had some secluded spot in mind where he would give her what she craved. Their activities together over the years had evolved into ever more perversity and the bondage was now a favorite part of their play. The last time he tied her to a tree. She was terrified for a week David would discover the scratches on her back, so she was grateful this time she was on a bed. The movement of the van and the vibrator was more stimulating than she might have imagined, but then every experience with Rusty was exhilarating and surreal.

After a short time, the van halted, and she heard Rusty open the door and step outside. Her legs were twitching around the vibrator and she wanted to feel his fingers slip inside her and make her come. She listened as she heard Rusty talking to someone in Spanish. Rusty was fluent, but she was not. She was raised in Arizona, so she knew how to count, and she thought she heard Rusty say, “Diez.” The other man, obviously a native speaker, said, “Cinco.” They were arguing about the price, and Beverly assumed he was trying to get admitted somewhere, like a park or an out of the way parking lot.

The excitement of knowing she was naked, her head covered, tied to the bed with a vibrator stuck between her legs just inside the van, while normal people were outside unknowing made her tremble with titillation. Rusty was the most exciting man she had ever been with. She heard Rusty step into the van, and the door close, and she said, “Fuck me, baby. I can’t wait for you to fuck me.”

He didn’t say anything, but fell upon her and sucked her breast into his mouth. The scent of him had changed. He smelled like… dirt! Perhaps they were at a construction site where men were digging and he wreaked of the earthy oder because he had been outside. He sucked hard on both of her breasts, which she liked, and he began clutching her roughly all over, which she also liked. She twisted underneath him trying to maximize the contact. His movements were all wrong, though. They were clumsy, groping, not at all like Rusty’s usual confident manipulations of her. She felt him rise up, and felt the tug of the corded vibrator being pulled from her, causing a shiver as it popped out and dropped to the floor. Now he was going to give her what she wanted, and she readied herself by spreading her knees wide. She felt his dick plunge into her, and his chest press onto her. The odor of dirt was strong again, and he was bouncing on her in a ragged, thrusting motion. It was a difficult realization that came to her, difficult to fully appreciate, difficult to accept. The man inside her was not Rusty. The earlier heard conversation began to make sense. Rusty had sold her!

She was being fucked by a native Spanish speaker who smelled of dirt, and who was going at her like he hadn’t had a woman in a long time. She could only assume Rusty had stopped at one of those places migrant workers hang out waiting to be picked up for a day’s work. Whoever he was; young, old, ugly, handsome, he was really slamming her. His rough flannel shirt rubbed against her neck, his hands crushed her breasts, and his belt buckle banged her thigh as his hips pounded into hers.

She was in shock at what she had let Rusty do to her. She was being fucked by a complete stranger, one of the lowest type of men society had to offer, sold for less than the cost of the dirt on the man’s clothes, and Rusty was no doubt sitting there smirking, enjoying her descent into perversion. The man groaned something in Spanish, squeezed her breasts so hard she nearly cried out, and ejaculated inside her. She felt each of his four pulsing discharges distinctly, and she could not escape the feeling she was being filled with dirt. As he collapsed on her, his halting breath constricting her own breathing, she felt not his weight, but the weight of humiliation, and she wondered if she would be permanently diseased.

Finally, he pulled out of her, made the noise of a man fastening his pants, and trudged out of the camper. “Rusty?” she said into the dark of her hood.

“Yes?” he said, his voice broken with laughter. She heard him advance and sit beside her.

“How could you?” she cried.

“You were magnificent,” he said, caressing her breasts and thighs. “Did you come?”

“No, I didn’t come, you son-of-a-bitch.”

“Too bad,” he said, drawing his thumb down her stomach and between her trembling wet lips, then slipping his fingers inside her, “I want you to come, just like you do for me. Maybe with the next one.”

“The next one? What do you mean? You can’t do this, Rusty. Please, take me home.”

“I can feel his sticky come,” he said, his fingers twisting and stroking inside her, his pleasure evident in his tone. “He had a real load for a little guy. Would you like to taste it?”

“No, Rusty. I want to go home.”

“I picked the ugliest one first. You should have seen the look on his face when he saw you laying there, with those beautiful tits of yours, and your legs spread wide for him. You’re the best looking woman he’s ever fucked, I’m sure.”

“Rusty, stop doing that,” she said.

“Stop doing what? Stroking your clit, and massaging the inside of your cunt? I won’t stop until you come.”

“Please stop. I don’t want to come.”

With his free hand he pulled the hood up enough for her to blink rapidly in the bright daylight coming through the window of the van. He pressed his lips into hers, one hand stroking her clit, and one hand kneading her breast. Seeing him, his strong, dark eyes, black hair, and imperious manner, made her swoon. “Oh, Rusty. How could you?”

“Just like this,” he said flicking her clit rapidly, kissing her again, kneading her breast, then focusing on the climax she knew would soon come. He picked the still vibrating object up off the floor, lubricated it with the juice from her cunt, and carefully inserted it into her ass. She groaned as she involuntarily swallowed the egg. Rusty expertly tweaked her, and she twitched and gasped as Beverly did what she had been desperate to do since she had called him. The relief she felt at her climax was exquisite, and made the memory of her humiliation recede to the back of her mind. How could he make her come so easily? The man was magic.

“For the next one,” he asked, “do you want the hood on or off?”

She did not want leave the unreality of her bliss, but his words obliterated the pleasure. Beverly knew Rusty would not relent until he saw her come with a strange, dirty, low-life of a man. She considered what to do. She really had no choice, tied as she was to the bed, and tied to Rusty by something stronger than rope. How had it come to this?

She had responsibilities, a job, a family, and she had a daughter who was drawing pictures of men jacking off, maybe even being abused. Perhaps she was being abused right now by a teacher, or a Mexican day laborer, or an Indian nobleman while her mother was whoring.

“The hood,” Rusty said again. “on or off?”

“On,” she said, the resignation thick in her tone. She hoped with it on she could pretend the next one doing her was Rusty, unless he smelled like dirt, too. Either way, she knew Rusty would make sure every man out there– how many could there be? Fifteen, twenty? Every one of them would pay to fuck the attractive white woman until she came like he wanted her to. She knew it wasn’t the money he wanted, he would sell her for small change if necessary, it was the abasement he would see on her face when she proved she was so wanton that she could enjoy being fucked by the least of men. What’s next, she thought, homeless men living under a bridge?

Beverly felt even more humiliation when she admitted to herself that it would not be that hard to allow herself to thoroughly enjoy the upcoming experience. She had fantasized about fucking more than one man, but never voiced the idea. Rusty had somehow deteted her desire and was leaving her no choice. If she could make herself come with the next one, or with as many as necessary until Rusty was satisfied with how he had degraded her, then he would take her home so she could protect her daughter from a similar fate.

He called out the door in Spanish for another ombre, and she was grateful for the egg in her ass so at least the coming train would not be able to pull into that station. She could tell by the Mexican’s heavy steps, crushing weight and surrounding flesh he was a fat guy, and she had always thought fat guys had tiny dicks. She was very wrong.

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