The Rise of Blackdeep Ch. 02

He gave a startled yelp that cut off as he remembered just what was about to go down. Wordlessly, she crossed her arms, grabbed the hem of her dress and pulled the whole thing off over her head, disentangling herself from the turtleneck with a dignity that few could match, and gave a slow turn in place. He stared up at her, heart rate increasing and tummy tingling. Every time he saw her he was struck by just how much of a goddess she was. She was wearing no bra and her large pale breasts seemed to defy gravity, the rosy pink nipples completely engorged. Her stomach was completely flat, with just enough toning to give hints of ab when she moved or twisted. Her fishnets were capped with a wide band of black lace, the tops of which came up to about two inches below where her perfectly round ass turned sharply into thigh. She wore a matching black lace thong, with the sides riding high on her hips and the front plunging down dramatically, the top of the lace cut just above her slit, revealing a thin strip of black pubic hair.

Don stared up at the curved expanses of flawless marble flesh before him and for the first time since coming to Blackdeep felt a tingling of the old feelings of power and entitlement. He took in the view with smug satisfaction knowing that the goddess in front of him was his and his alone. 'Those stupid niggers may push me around, but at the end of the day I'm the one with exclusive access to a supermodel's face with a strippers body attached, and they're having to share some ho,' he thought to himself. He didn't even notice his use of the epithet that had slipped into his vocabulary sometime in the past month. Before, he had had very minimal interaction with blacks, and apart from some subconscious judgments about the lack of black zillionaires, really had no problem with them. Now, after a solid month of being treated like the white shit that forms in the corners of your mouth when you're really thirsty, and with no other frame of reference, he had a big problem with them.

His gut tingled, though his dick remained strangely limp, as she slowly gyrated her hips and lightly ran her hands up her stomach, with all the confidence and experience that came with almost ten years of knowing she was smoking hot and figuring out how men ticked.

He wished they could see her now, all those black assholes staring at his sexy wife and knowing they couldn't have her. He tucked his arms behind his head and lifted his hips as she bent over and unzipped his fly and pulled his pants down. He knew he was on the smaller side, coming in at just four inches when erect and with balls the size of large marbles, but he also knew size didn't matter and he had an unrealistically hot girl anyway. Now though, it was totally shriveled and shrunken, as though he had just taken a cold shower.

Sasha's sexy mode faltered. She was not used to this. From what she had observed most guys got rock hard just passing her on the street. Don was fifty-seven, more then thirty years her senior, and she knew he took Viagra to help out back before the indictment, but when she had visited him at Clearwell he had been pent up enough to muster up a workable erection. She had never seen it like this before. She could feel his growing embarrassment as she looked skeptically at the shriveled inch of flesh protruding from between his legs. 'Is this a dick or not?' The thought flashed briefly in her mind, but she quickly glossed over it and leaned in. She was his wife and would do her duty. 'This shouldn't have to be my duty.' Again, she left the thought behind as she leaned in and easily took his entire package in her mouth, balls and all, something she knew he loved. She licked around, eventually letting his balls plop out and focusing on sucking his penis. It grew slightly from the suction, but no more.

Eventually she stopped, feeling slightly exasperated. Although she knew how to use her sexuality with black belt skill, she was not used to having to arouse a man from scratch like this. Usually she did that without trying and then just drove them crazy from there.

Even though she had had her fair share of sexual encounters throughout her gold digging career, enough to develop skills to match her looks, she had never really been that crazy about sex. It could be fun to be sure, but her urges were never really satisfied by it, and she had always found it comical and distracting how sure many guys were that they were rocking her world when really she was faking and they were just ok. She had a little more success with masturbation, as she had more control and lasted much longer then any guy. Still though, even though it felt good, she was never able to fully satisfy herself. Jenelle was much keener on masturbation, although she agreed with Sasha that sex was pretty underwhelming. Apparently she had some techniques that made it worthwhile. She had tried to explain them several times but Sasha had never managed to pull it off, at least she didn't think so.

Once, at a party, they had been out on the porch talking about Sasha's difficulties managing it, when Jenelle had offered to just do it for her. Sasha had drunkenly accepted, but it never ended up happening because they couldn't find a free room.

She wondered if Jenelle remembered that.

Don met her questioning gaze briefly, then looked away, embarrassed. He too was confused by this event, or lack thereof as it was. He was more excited to see his wife then he had ever been, and felt incredible arousal at the sight and feel of her lips on his dick, yet rise it did not.

"Sorry, I guess I'm just too stressed," he mumbled. Sasha took a moment as she figured out what to say. She eventually went with a double lie:

"It's ok baby, I understand." 'Spending nine months in a radioactive prison-resort probably isn't helping either,' she thought absentmindedly.

She gave it some stroking, but when it became clear that it really wasn't going to happen she stopped again and Don pulled his pants back up, face burning red. He was seething internally, he didn't get to see her much at Clearwell and he knew Blackdeep had far fewer congenial visit days. He wanted it so bad, yet was unable to take it.

They sat there in awkward silence. Don remembered the way Al had looked coming out of the room earlier, and wondered if this had happened to him too, and if it would happen to Chuck.

Don struggled not to cry. At least things couldn't get any worse.

--

Jim held on to his hat as the freezing wind rushed in off the ocean, pulling him from his reverie. He spun around and could hardly believe what he was seeing. Barely a few miles away was a wall of storm clouds that had come out of nowhere and were completely unseasonable for this time of the year. But they weren't just any storm clouds. These were not dark grey; they were black, looking for all the world like smoke, with only the sporadic flashing of lightning to indicate that they were water vapor. They were extremely low, with the flat bottom of the storm front almost at eye level with him. Although he was ashamed to admit it, he felt a pang of fear. These clouds looked evil, and they weren't passing over, they were coming at him, a massive wall of solid black, stretching as far as he could see up and to either side, completely filling his field of vision. Coming at him, and coming at him fast.

As the wind picked up and the water began to froth against the cliffs, Jim shivered violently and quickly ducked inside.

--

Xavier stroked his stubble, brow furrowed as he tried to think through the roar of the prisoners who were beginning to drain out toward the visitation rooms, either loudly thanking god for the hos they were about to receive, or still jabbering excitedly about the white women on the catwalk.

Xavier was just as excited as the rest of them, like all black men he had a thing for white women, but beneath the excitement was something deeper. Incredible excitement, so intense it bordered on being panicky. If that blond was who he thought she was...

Abruptly he came to a decision.

"Marv," he said, lightly smacking the other man on the arm with the back of his hand. Marv spun around, breaking off his enthusiastic conversation with another prisoner about what he was gonna do to the hos, the smile still on his lips.

Marvin had arrived at Black deep about six months before Xavier. The Cajun was even taller the Xavier, though quite a bit slimmer, and was completely hairless. He was free of tattoos, with one large exception. His entire back was covered with a huge and masterfully done portrait of Baron Samedi, the Voodoo Loa. The spirit was wearing a pinstripe suit, and his skull had several gold teeth, between which was clamped a cigar. He was seated on a huge Louis XIV style chair, with a naked white woman adorned with bones clinging to his thigh. In one hand he held a drink, in the other a hand of cards, turned to reveal a royal flush of spades.

Marvin had been a total swamp dweller, living in the bayou and catching crawdads with his hands before he started gangbanging. His story was almost the opposite of Xaviers; rather then taking a fall, he had been set up, and ended up getting pulled over in a car with a bunch of stolen, used guns in the trunk. Rather then go quietly, he opted instead to slam the cop's head in the trunk as he was calling for backup, and lead the police on a twelve-mile chase/shootout all over town until they finally blew out all his tires and brought him down. He and Xavier had quickly become good friends.

"Sup," he nodded, still chuckling at the thought of railing one of those hos.

"I think I need to go talk to the big man." At these words, all trace of amusement vanished from Marvin's face as he lowered his voice to a sharp whisper and stepped in closer.

"What? What da fuck are you talkin about? You can't do dat, not when tings are dis close."

"Nah man, that's exactly why I need to, we need to bump the schedule up big time. It needs to be today."

"Today?!" Marvin cried, alarmed. "Nigga are you crazy?"

"You remember those bitches I told you about from highschool?"

"Da super sexy ones?"

"Yeah."

"Yeah."

"I think that was them." He paused a minute to let that sink in some, then pressed on. "If they still look like they did, and have all that money, there's no way we can pass up on this."

"...Ok, assuming it is dem, how da fuck are we supposed to do it today? Big man's miracle aint comin for anudder week and a half, no one's ready."

"I don't know, that's why I need to go talk to him."

"...Well, fuck. Lets get dis over wit."

They drifted to the outskirts of the crowd, positioning was going to be everything. Far enough from the guards on the ground that they wouldn't shoot, but close enough that the ones on the catwalks wouldn't either. They got ready, and Marvin braced himself. Then:

"MAN FUCK YOU!!!" Xavier bellowed at the top of his lungs and he charged at Marvin, clocking him square in the face. They went down in a tangle of limbs, Xavier getting on top of the other man and pounding him in the face a few times before three guards yanked him off, threw him down and tasered him. They hauled him up, still twitching, as the lieutenant came rushing up.

"Jesus Christ," Frank screamed as Xavier got his bearings. "This is a prison, not a zoo! These visitations are a privilege, and I won't have you repay us by flagrantly disobeying the rules. Block C, two days!"

"Yes sir," the guards snapped, and quickly began hauling him off. He had fully recovered, but remained limp, letting them do all the work. Frank stared back at him, a smug look on his face. 'Enjoy it while you can whitey' thought Xavier. 'Enjoy it while you can.'

Frank looked over to where Marvin had picked himself up. Xavier hadn't been pulling his punches, and even with the few he got in he had fucked him up pretty good. His nose was dripping blood and his left lip and eye were swollen almost shut.

"Do you need to go to medical?"

Marvin wiped his nose and spat out a tooth.

"Nah, I'm good."

Xavier eventually got tired of watching the guards get tired and stood up straight as they led him out of Block A and across the compound to the bunker that stood on the entrance to Block C.

Block A was for "low risk" prisoners, which wasn't saying much at Blackdeep. It was where Xavier and the vast majority of the other prisoners were housed. Block B was in the lighthouse and was pretty much the same as Block A, except it was much smaller and there was only one person per cell. Block B was for those who seriously Did Not Play Well With Others and couldn't have a cell mate, as well as more devious, demagogical prisoners who couldn't be allowed to influence others.

Block C was solitary confinement. It was often used at a temporary punishment, but as far as Xavier knew there was only one permanent resident.

They entered the bunker, and after explaining their purpose to the guard there, who then radioed in to verify, entered the elevator and settled in for the long ride.

Block C was the deepest point of the complex, located hundreds of yards beneath the stone. Or rather, it was the deepest point that most people knew about.

When the state first acquired the island from the military, they pretty much handed it over and dipped out, without even leaving a set of plans. As a result, the first thing the state had to do was explore and map the place out. They covered every inch of the place, but it still took them a good while to find it, and even then it was mostly luck.

Out in the middle of the razor waste that was the south beach, buried beneath two feet of shards, was a hatch. Beneath the hatch was a shaft, stretching down and out of sight. There were marks on the side where some sort of scaffolding had once been, but now there was no easy way down, and they had to repel, having to start over twice due to running out of rope before the bottom.

When they did reach the bottom, they found a makeshift quarry on one side of the shaft, obviously used to make the bricks that sealed up the hole on the other. This was clearly done recently, relative to the rest of the stonework. The ancient's masonry was immaculate, each stone of the ziggurats fitting together with Lego-like precision. Here, the surface was uneven and the edges were chipped, as though whoever built this wall cared only about function. They worked out a pulley system and removed the stones.

And that's when they found the door. Set at the end of a short hallway was a huge bulkhead. A metal bulkhead. Its surface was perfectly smooth except for a small keyboard set flush with the rest of it, presumably for a password.

Intrigued, the state called in some experts to try and get it open. First they considered cutting it, but it proved to be thicker then their instruments could measure. They tried to X-ray it, but it was lead lined. They tried to open the keyboard to hack it, but it was like something from Steve Jobs' wet dream, with no seams or fasteners of any kind. There wasn't even a display to indicate how long the password might be. Or any guarantee that the system electronic at all, for that matter. It had clearly been built in the 20^th century, but it was unclear when beyond that; for all they knew, the whole thing could be mechanical. The next step would have been to just blast the crap out of it, but given its location beneath one of the most historic places in the country, that wasn't even considered.

Eventually, conceding defeat, the experts returned and informed the state that there would be only one way of getting the door open. Entering the correct password.

Stumped, and figuring that it would be a huge pain to get city planning to let them do anything that far underground anyway, the state simply sealed the hatch back up and forgot about it.

The elevator clanged to a stop and the guards turned on their flashlights as they left the lights by the shaft. They led him down an extremely low narrow hallway roughly hewn from the rock, eventually coming out in a small round room lined with riveted bulkheads. They marched him over to one, opened it with an earsplitting screech, tossed him in, and shut it behind him, abruptly cutting off all light and sound. He saw stars as his pupils dilated, madly searching for light. He knew it was no use. He had spent enough time in this purgatory to know that the darkness here really was absolute, and that his eyes would never adjust. Which was of course, the point. Isolation. Unfortunately for the establishment, he had also spent enough time there to know some things about it that they didn't.

He began groping around until he found it, a loose stone at the base of one of the walls, sticking about a centimeter out. He scratched around until he got a grip on it and pulled it out, putting his cheek on the floor to speak into the hole into the next cell.

"Hey big man?" he whispered. He knew that there was almost a mile of rock between him and the closest guard, and he could have shouted at the top of his lungs, but it was instinctive to whisper when talking about things like this.

He received no answer, but it was an absence with presence.

"Some things have come up, we need to move today. These super rich assholes have been sent here, the details don't matter, what's important is they're rich, crazy rich. Their bitches are here today, they must be the ones controlling the money and I'm almost positive I went to high school with two of em, and if so they are the hottest bitches on the planet. I don't know what sort of miracle you have hidden up your butt in the dark here, but if we move today, we won't just get the prison, we'll get a fortune and some sexy party favors on top of it. I'm telling you man, it's got to be today!" The words came tumbling out; it wasn't until he spoke them aloud that he realized just how big a deal this could be.

A laugh, huge and deep, like oiled thunder, rolled out from the darkness, and far above, unseen by the subterranean conspirators below, lightning struck the mainland power relay twice in quick succession.

And all across the compound the lights went out.

NEXT: STORM