Immigrant "Captured Moon"

Updated: Sep 7

Following her heart's desire, Diana rushes to her lover's side. Once there she encounters a twist of fate consisting of lust and Pride. Moon tries to find an escape; before any signs of an enviable demise


CONTEMPORARY FICTION, FICTION, ROMANCE Immigrant

Immigrant: Captured Moon is a phenomenal, addictive, brilliant piece of fiction that left me shocked and astonished. Never before have I read such a unique, imaginative, enthralling piece of literature; T.J. Phull, the author of this sensational novel, is incredibly talented because she knows just how to capture her reader's imagination from the very first page.

 Editorial  Review : "As I read this book, I struggled to put it down, so much so that I found myself reading it into the early hours of the morning thanks to Phull's incredible talent to hold the reader's attention. Already I would implore you book lovers to read this book because it is incredibly unique and unlike anything you have read before." "The story of Immigrant: Captured Moon is a thought-provoking and thrilling one that is multi-layered and fast-paced. The incredible novel weaves themes that are quite simply mind-blowing. Stories that have a compelling nature are my favorite kind of reads, and Phull has hit the right spot with this wonderful book of hers. She has managed to weave poignant themes with engaging, dynamic characters and interweave both to make an astonishing piece of fiction that is both addictive and fast-paced."  "Every detail in Immigrant: Captured Moon is superb and thought out, Phull is a descriptive writer and so the reader is easily able to get lost in her words and imagine the places in this book perfectly.

Never before have I read a contemporary fiction novel that was so in-depth

Never before have I read a contemporary fiction novel that was so in-depth, truly every detail was immaculate, and this is rare to find these days within literature. Granted, these novels, in general, are detailed, but I think these details are bad for the story because the book becomes more like a manual than a piece of fiction." Phull, however, manages to write details into this novel that benefit the novel instead of ruin it, she has struck a perfect balance, and for that I am thankful." T.J. Phull is a talented author and a genuine wordsmith. Her tale is gripping and consistent from beginning to end. As the reader reads this book, they will be taken on an unforgettable journey which will unfold bit by bit at a perfect pace that will keep the reader engrossed.  Phull's vivid writing will enable the reader to fall madly in love with this book and be kept hooked because you simply can't help but do this! The fluidity alone in her book is sensational and unlike anything I have read before, never once did I find myself getting bored of the story or even the characters. Phull managed to continually shock and surprise me thanks to her fantastic plot devices such as twists and turns. Overall Phull is a talent to watch out for!


To summarize my thoughts on this charismatic novel 

To summarize my thoughts on this charismatic novel  I would say if you are a reader who Is tired of reading the same old books that are lackluster and forgettable then take a chance with this one because I promise you now that you will not be disappointed! This wonderful book gets Five Stars from me!"

Thank you so much for reading

Thank you so much for reading, I deeply appreciate it and love discussing wonderful books with all of you so please, comment below and let me know your thoughts on Immigrant: Captured Moon; do you see yourself reading this book? Is it not your usual cup of tea? Let me know all of those brilliant thoughts of yours below! Thank you so much again for reading! Goodbye for now book lovers, 




Immigrant "Captured Moon"


God, I couldn’t move. I had to get up, but the room was spinning so wildly, and I was in so much pain. I was so drunk I couldn’t fight back, and if I did, what would have happened? The pain between my legs was killing me. I remembered all. But where did he take me? He said outside New Delhi. How could he have done this to me and allowed them to force themselves on me while he cowered in the corner. Oh god, it’s so hot. I can’t breathe. I am not sure if I am in Africa or India. Damn. I want to kill that son of a bitch! Where is he anyway? Wait until I find out where I am exactly.


I couldn’t believe he allowed his friends to do this to me. I felt like I would throw up my insides. My mom tried to warn me, but I didn’t listen. I was so in love, three years communicating with him. Why would he do this to me? God, why didn’t I see this coming! I trusted him so much, loved him so much. Oh god, help me. I can’t believe I had texted him at the airport, “Come and get me, sweetie, I am waiting for you.” I was so blind, perhaps mindless, with no rational thought but love. And he had texted me, “I love you, baby. I can’t wait until we see each other in the real. I have been waiting forever to meet you. Can’t believe that God allows me to finally meet you, Diana.” Ah, what sweet words those had been.


But now I saw that was just to a draw me in, giving me more reasons to trust in him and in his love so I would not sense any deceptions. It worked, for when I saw him standing with a sign, I thought, Aah, how cute. I was so excited. He was more handsome than his pictures had showed—much more actually. And he was taller than I perceived. He looked so sexy in his turban. I greeted him. He smiled so boyishly, so shy-like. Why didn’t I see this was a lie? I followed him through a crowd of travelers and a double line of people holding up signs with people’s names. As I passed them, I asked him why he brought a sign—couldn’t he remember my face?


He laughed. “No, just in case you couldn’t recognize me. We all seem similar to foreigners.”


I laughed and said, “Might be, but I know my man.”


He took my hand and kissed it. Charming, I thought. Before we reached the outside of the airport, we had passed a few storefronts advertising tours, hotels, and bus services. I had followed Blake to the outside, but once I stepped outside, the heat had hit me like an oven, and I felt like I was a baked potato. Gasping for air, I allowed my body to quickly adjust to the oxygen. There were more people holding signs, and roll upon roll of cabs.


I looked around and thought, So this is what India looks like. It resembled the Bronx and Queens to me. Well, at least the people. Similar turbans, dots on the brows—hell, even cabs! There were even some Africans there. Hmmm, interesting, I thought. They had looked at me, following behind Blake, but not weirdly. The smell of the air was rather uniquely dusty, yet earthy with a little salt and musk. It was not bad at all but something too different, something to get used to. Finally, we had reached his car, and it was a nice damn car! I had expected his car to look something like the cabs.


The cabs and busses looked like they were from the 1920s or something. I wondered how the hell they kept these things moving. But his car was silver and modern. I was impressed. I didn’t even have a car. He approached his car first and opened the door, and as I was about to enter, I had seen that there were three individuals already sitting in the backseat. I felt a little odd, not because of the extra individuals but because I was sitting where in America would be a steering wheel. It just felt off.


When Blake got in the car, he had introduced me to his gang. He said, “This is Nevil, my best friend, and my brother, Kole.” I was taken aback a bit. He looked just like Blake. Blake also said, “And this here is my friend Amin.”


I had given an uncomfortable hello. I didn’t expect this, nor did he tell me that he was bringing company along. But again, even with these people, I didn’t expect anything was wrong. He started driving, and the air was a little dry and dusty for me, so he closed the window and put on the air condition.


He said, “Sorry for the dust. Indian dust is good for the skin,” and they all started laughing. I just said OK, and Blake said, “No, really. Do you know why?”


And I said, “No, I do not.”


He said, “Because people just shit in the street, and it dries up and flies into your hair, mouth, everywhere.”


I was like, “Oh my god! Seriously!” and they laughed.


He said, “This is shit land. If you are born here, you are cursed.”


I looked out the window, and I thought it was quite beautiful. And I felt happy and at peace, so I disagreed with him. To me, it was like Americans who complain about America, but no damn way would they ever leave or trade for another country. As he was driving, the other three men were conversing and laughing loudly in their language.


The only one that wasn’t engaging had been Nevil. He looked as if there was a lot on his mind. This fellow looked smart and nerdy but in a handsome way. I remember Blake always talking about him. He was a cop. But I never thought I would get to meet him. Blake’s brother, Kole, was so similar to his brother, down to the laugh, except his eyebrows arched like the devil. And he was not overly muscled like Blake.


Sometimes, when Blake sent me pictures of himself at the gym, I felt he was overdoing it a bit. Blake wanted to drive me around a bit, but I didn’t want to. I allowed him anyway. I tried not to be judgmental about anything. I just wanted to absorb all that was being shown to me without comparing it to where I came from. I had wanted to be like a newborn baby, so I had cleared and opened my mind. I wanted to see things with new perspectives.


I couldn’t engage in most of the things they were saying, for they spoke really, really fast. Acknowledging that I was linguistically dumb, they did, however, ask me questions in English. I didn’t realize how poor Blake’s English was. I never realized. His friend had to ask the questions, and when I answered, he translated it. Sorry, but his friend had seemed very sinister and evil to me. It was something in his glances, the way he smiled. It was creepy.


But all these years, has Blake been using a translator? I wondered. Well, I tried to listen the best I could, just to try to pick up some key words. Ever feel like someone is talking behind your back? Well, I had gotten that feeling a lot during this ride.


My sweetheart said in a thick accent, “After I take you on tour around New Delhi, then I can take you to exchange money, and we can shop and eat if you like.”


I felt excited and happy and started to feel safe. I meant, who wouldn’t? I had a cop and three other men as my bodyguards. Also, since we left the airport, there was nothing but cops all around everywhere. I felt I was in cop land.


I was so happy to be in India. I felt free. Sitting back, I smiled and watched everyone I could set eyes on. I watched how they exchanged conversation and how they walked. There were kids in the street, selling things, so I watched them run up to the car and tap the window. I even watched them watching me. I didn’t know why Blake was always talking bad about India. This was always the land of my dreams. I told him I would move here with him—that was how much I loved him. I would have packed up my kids and moved to India—that was how much he meant to me. And being here with him had been important because I got to see how he behaved in his own environment.


I loved Blake. I would have done anything for him. He would always say “Oh, you’ll do anything? Even live in the street with shit?” I never understood what he was talking about until now. As we drove, he showed me various places, like the Indian version of the White House, where the president lived. That was freaking awesome! It was beautiful. This area was more modern, but of course, a lot of visitors come to see it. Then he took me to where there were actual monkeys on the sidewalk. Holy shit! You couldn’t see that in America! I love this freaking place.


After a while, I was getting sort of tired, but he wanted to continue with the tour. Grrrrrrrrr! He had showed me some sights and the Lotus temple; as well as a very large Hanuman Statue and some little shops. As he finished, he wanted to know if I wanted to exchange money and buy something.


Drained, I replied, “I am tired, and I really want to get to the hotel.” I meant, it was a twenty-two-hour flight for this trip. I thought he would understand. Although the shops were nice, what was the rush? We had other days. I looked out the window so I would not see his gaze. I saw a tourist walking in regular clothing, and they stuck out like a sore thumb. And I looked myself over and guessed I did also, for I was tan with blond hair.


When I finally looked at him, I could see the disappointment on his face, and I felt so damn bad. I said, “OK, let’s do this.”


He smiled. He asked me how much I had. I answered him that I had $2,000 and $8,000 on a card for emergency. It was actually $10,000 on the card, but he didn’t need to know the whole truth. Well, this seemed to please him, and I didn’t want to disappoint him since I was there to visit him.


Seeing him happy had brightened me up and had given me new energy. I handed him the $2,000 in cash, and he went into a hole-in-the-wall being guarded by one man, whose ass my four-year-old could probably kick.


Looking around where we were parked, some of the buildings were modern, but mostly they seemed like hotels. The streets themselves were a bit messy. There was a pile of garbage in the corner, and it was smelling like I didn’t know, but I wanted to throw up and run as far as I could! I prayed silently, God, please hurry up! It seemed like I was just the one affected as the others continued with their talk.


The street vendors had some beautiful clothes and statues—you could even see the men creating them in front of your eyes. Too bad they were heavy. I would buy some, but the airport weighs the bags. It would probably cost me more to get them home than it would be to buy them. I will just stick to the little things and just spoil my sweetie, so I had thought. Once he returned, the money I had given him seemed to have more than tripled. I thought, Wow.


The car was very quiet, and I told him to hold on to the money and to keep it safe for me. He more than agreed. He said, “Well, if you are really tired, we can show more to you tomorrow and just go out tonight. But I want you to see this one place before we go to the hotel, if this is OK.”


I said sure and tried not to giggle at his accent. It didn’t match his looks. When we spoke on the phone, he would stay quiet most times, allowing me to talk and just adding few words here and there.


I had thought he was just a good listener. Well, his idea was an awesome one. Anything that got us back to the hotel, where I could be alone with him and not be with everyone. He took me to a mall where there seemed to be a dozen cabs parked in front. Inside, there were chains of vendor stands, and each stand had some stuff to sell, like jewelry, statues, and seasonings. Also, downstairs had been a restaurant.


The attendants of these stands appeared to be nice but overly eager. There was nothing there I wanted and I just waited for them to look around. They looked like they were more interested in shopping more than I had been. Seriously, all I wanted in the world right now was to get my arms around Blake and kiss those lips. I wanted to slowly unravel his turban and see what was under it. I had wanted to taste and lick every inch of his body—thinking of it brought saliva to my mouth.


I only wanted to spend time with him, not here with these people. After a while, we finally headed to the hotel to check me in. As we checked in, they said he could not stay with me because he was a local, and it would bring trouble with the cops. He told them that his friend was a cop, but that had seemed to make them even more nervous. They said he could stay but only until visiting hours were over unless he had had another ID with a different address that he could use. He pulled out another ID with a different address.


They said that they must call someone to confirm this, and then he seemed to get nervous and said, “No, forget it.” I wondered why he was so nervous and had gotten mad—he had given up so easily. I had come here to spend two weeks with him. Now what? I was so pissed off. I snagged my electronic key from the guy behind the desk, and I stomped toward the elevator. Going up, he called his friends and told them to wait in the lobby for him.


Entering the room first, I sat on the bed, blistering mad. Blake closed the door and said, “Don’t worry. I will figure out something, I promise.”


And I said, “Like what?”


Taking off his shoes, he said, “Don’t worry. Let me worry.”


Suddenly, my stomach felt as if I was dropping on a roller-coaster ride. Tired and aggravated, I forgot this part that came with meeting someone you loved: intimacy. Oh boy. I wished I had time for a mint. But he came over to me, taking my hand so I could feel how hard he was.


I thought, OMG. It was really a nice feeling. Blake had taken off his turban, but I had been looking down, so damn, I missed it. I had gone into deep thought after feeling him. He then had pulled me with such force and started kissing me, and at that moment, I could feel my blood rush quickly through my body. I felt as if I was going to pass out, and I rested my head on his chest and took a breath.


Blake turned me around and leaned me on the desk. Looking up at the flat-screen TV, I noticed the whole room was made from marble! I thought, Shit, I could only dream to have a room like this or even to be able to afford a place like this where I live.


I was a bit envious of my room and was not prepared for what was entering my body. I had jumped a bit as he entered inside me, making a full thrust. I started getting hot flashes, and my legs began to tremble and shake as if they were not parts of me but had their own mind. I was not quite sure if I would be able to remain standing, let alone silent. As his thrusts became wilder and fiercer, I couldn’t hold in my cries and moans.


I leaned closer, nearly damn lying on the desk. I didn’t want to pass out, for Blake was making my knees weak. Reaching over, he put his hands into my bra to play with my nipples as he hammered himself continuously inside me. All I could do was cry out with every thrust and pump. I felt so sexual and lustful and tried to meet his thrusts with grinds. Letting out a grunt and huff along with my name, he held tightly to my waist as he finished his release with long, slow strokes.


The friction of him withdrawing himself was hot and left a lot of wetness. Turning me over, he kissed my lips, hand, and the crown of my head. Pulling me toward the shower, we washed each other and kissed. I giggled a little at the bun on top his head. I didn’t mean to, but it didn’t seem to bother him. He just smiled and nodded his head. It had been like he knew I would somehow find that bun amusing. To me, all that was missing now was a sword, and he would look like a Japanese samurai.


I brushed my teeth and put on my clothing. Blake watched everything I did, every move I made, like a child observing a mother. I also watched him as he leaned forward to brush all that damn hair. After he brushed his hair, he twisted it into a bun then wrapped it with a black cloth then his turban. Interesting, I had felt. Without the turban, Blake looked Japanese; with the turban, he looked Indian. It was funny how image can be changed simply with a few pieces of clothing.


I had asked him, “What are we seriously going to do?” I didn’t want to stay there by myself—it was not what I came to India for.


He said not to worry, and he would figure out something later. “Let’s go get something to eat first.”


I asked, “Do your friends have to go with us?”


Blake said, “Not if you don’t want them to.”


I could see the disappointment again in his face. I said, “Oh, it’s OK.”


As we walked down the marble stairs, I was amazed at how elegant this hotel was. I thought they should call it Hotel Elegance. Reaching the lobby, we were greeted by smiles. Even the three workers—who were men—were smiling. I knew what they were thinking, and they were correct.


Only one glare was making me uneasy. That glare came from Blake’s best friend, Nevil. Why this man reminded me of the devil, I don’t know. But he was different from them all. Smarter, different—so very different with all those glares and smiles. I had felt that they might have heard me yelling and moaning. The damn door had been about five inches off the floor. Anything could crawl up into that room—a lizard, a small mouse, or even a rat! I shivered at the thought.


I did hear the conversation from the other room, so I was sure someone enjoyed listening to me and Blake. I began to blush as they continued to speak in Hindi


to each other. Swear to God, he was bragging! You know how you can tell? It was the look on their faces, and it didn’t matter what language was spoken, faces did tell all. Before we could leave, the manager came up to us, introducing himself. He was on his way home, he said, and he wanted to see if everything was OK.


I said, “It was fine, thank you.”


He had turned and spoke to Blake. I could tell he was asking him a few questions. I caught on to some words because I used to look up Punjabi and Hindi to communicate with him so that he could feel that I loved him. I understood that he had asked Blake if he came from Punjab, and Blake said, “No, no, I do not come from there.” He said he came from some state that started with a G. The manager said OK, and Blake said, “Theek, theek.” I just wanted to kiss his lips as he spoke every word and symbol.


Finally, the manager let us go. Walking out of the hotel, we entered the car in the same positions we were in earlier. They asked some questions, which I enjoyed answering. After Blake took me, I was in a better mood. I wasn’t tired anymore, and I was ready for anything. Again, his creepy friend kept looking at me. Odd—was he trying to seduce me? I laughed to myself. Cute devil-looking nerd, but nothing to compare to Blake or Kole. When I looked into the rearview mirror to address the ones asking me the questions, I didn’t like the evil coming from Nevil’s eyes. It was like he was trying to cast a spell of some sort.


We searched many places before they found the right one. We went in, and the waiters grinned and stared and watched. I no longer felt comfortable being around Blake and all these men. Maybe I should have worn something less red or fitted to the body. It was OK in America, but somehow, I didn’t feel it so here. There was just too many stares. Even Blake started complaining that the workers were not professional, and he didn’t understand why they stared. His friend Nevil was quiet and lurking. When the food came, we ate, and they had some drinks, which relaxed Blake a bit.


The food was the freshest food I had ever tasted in my life. Kole and Blake were teasing Amin. I didn’t understand, but I could tell by the laughter and the way Amin responded. I felt a little misplaced, so I sipped my wine. Guessing Nevil knew my discomfort, he interpreted that they were teasing Amin for being short with large smelly feet. That made me laugh. I was wondering why Blake wasn’t speaking English. I figured now maybe he didn’t know that much to involve me into the conversation.


Maybe that was why responding to my text took so long. God, that was a bit disappointing to find out that our relationship relied on Google Translate. I looked at Blake, wanting to be mad that it would be hard to communicate to him fully, but I couldn’t. I couldn’t find the anger, so I just shrugged. He was still my sardar regardless, and I thought, OK it just means he will be the strong, silent, and crazy handsome type. I would never love anyone the way I loved him, I had thought, and the communication, although basic, was fine so far.


After dinner and a few drinks, Blake had asked me if I wanted to go to a bar. Looking around, Kole looked tired, or was that the effect of the drinks? I replied, “Well, I think your brother is sleepy.”


His brother laughed and said, “No, I am OK.” His English was much clearer compared to Blake, and his voice was deeper with a British tone or accent. I wondered why.


Shaking my head, I said, “OK then, why not?” They looked at me, so I had said, “Yes, let’s go, I mean.” Ordering one last round of drinks and the bill, they excused themselves to go to the washroom—all but one.


It was me and Nevil sitting there alone. He took a sip of his drink, eyes turning into slits; he removed the glass and uttered the most dreadful words that I had ever heard. He said, “I want you so bad I cannot breathe. I cannot speak of this because he’s my best friend, but I want you.” My mouth dropped open in disbelief, a little excited because who didn’t want men to adore and lust for them? But not too sure if it should have come from his friend, but I had thought, OK, it’s the drink talking and nothing more, so I will let that statement pass.


With an uneasy smile, I looked around, hoping that they were on their way back. No luck. God, what the hell were they doing? Holding each other’s penises while they pissed or admiring each other’s size? Speaking of dick, I had looked up, and Nevil was still searching me. He was looking me up and down while sipping on that drink. In the movies, you would either whistle and look away, or you would get up and throw a drink. I can feel his lustful energy as if he were transferring it to me. Feeling ashamed, I adjusted my scarf so to cover a bit more. Finally, they approached, and Blake paid the bill with the money I had given him earlier.


Driving fifteen minutes, we reached the bar. Inside it was quite empty except for about six drunken men and some really good American music. Blake explained that this night was slow, and if we had come on a Tuesday, it would be full. But as he finished that sentence, about six women walked in with a man.


Blake’s friend then bent to whisper to me, as if to kiss my ears with his breath. He whispered that these were prostitutes and a pimp. Kole was looking at Nevil very suspiciously, so I moved back and toward Blake. Looking at Kole was like looking at Blake’s mirror image scolding me. Nevil handed me a shot glass filled with whiskey, so I took it and drank it. After that, I didn’t remember much.


Everything became clouded, and it was like bits of reality, just in and out like a flashing movie on the screen at a theater. I knew I had become just as loud as they were. At the time, it was fun—I was getting along even with the language barrier. They were treating me like one of the guys. I do remember that Nevil pulled me up to dance, and I said, “No, no, I shouldn’t.” I had looked at Blake for rescue, but he was looking into his drink, and Kole was looking at him.


So I said, “OK, one dance,” and took Nevil’s invitation to dance the way we Americans put it down. His friend was no Bollywood star, that was for sure. More like the character from the Charlie Brown Christmas special, where they danced back and forth with their shoulders so stiff and high and head laid low. It was a funny sight. I also remembered some man approaching with a drink in his hands. He was full of muscles, had a gray-and-black plaid scarf around his neck and a sports cap.


It was Blake. I laughed out loud. He disguised himself so he might dance. That is a funny, shy thing to do. But he also was rescuing me, I felt. When did he take his turban off and put on a cap? God, I was losing time. I was not alert. Here Blake comes, dancing toward me to retrieve me from his friend like a drunken knight in shining armor. So I danced as sexily as I could, without laughing to death. I was shaking that ass, making it bounce, moving my hips just for him.


At that point, I didn’t care or cared less if there were others in the room. They were playing American music, and I was going to dance for my man. He kept up with me—also he moved well, actually, to the beat. Damn, we were well-matched, sort of. I felt he could fit in with us blacks and Latinos in America. He was a tough Punjabi, just like us blacks and Latinos were tough.


Our cultures all shared a warrior, “never give up” kind of attitude. Never give up at any cost—at least mentally we didn’t. Yes, we were well-matched indeed. I wanted him to take me like he had earlier. I was ready for his full service and punishment. After we danced, he ordered one more drink, and his friend took an ice cube from his glass to feed to me. I almost took it, then pulled back, like, What the fuck am I doing? Number 1, no ice cubes to eat in India, and number 2, that was much too personal. I knew I was fully drunk to even almost do that.


I looked around, and Blake was on the phone. I was feeling sick. Blake looked uneasy on his phone call, and I wondered what was going on, but I brushed it off. Once he was done, he sat down next to me and said that instead of the hotel, they decided that I would stay at Kole and Nevil’s place.


I said, “What about you?” and asked where they lived.


He said, “It’s outside New Delhi, in a small house in a village. Don’t worry, it’s clean and nice.”


I just looked at him and said, “OK, if you stay there also.”


He said, “Oh, my home is around the corner. I can stay tonight but have to take care of something quick in the morning.”


I thought, Why couldn’t I just go to his place? Maybe he was embarrassed of it. So what he suggested sounded fair. We drove maybe two hours and a half. I was so sick—the air, mix of smells, and ride seemed to activate the drink more.


We finally reached the place, and I was dizzy as hell. I could feel the pounding of a headache coming. While walking to the door, I started throwing up. I couldn’t will it to stop. It had continued until my stomach felt it was OK to stop on its own. To be honest, it was needed.


They were very quiet as we entered the place. It was OK. It was not like the hotel. It was sort of like a cement hut with rooms, maybe five of them.


They said to keep quiet because one room, which had been toward the back and semi-connected to the house, was shared by servants. The other four rooms were two bedrooms belonging to Nevil and another to Kole. The last two were a living room, dining room and kitchen combo, and the bathroom.


I said, “OK, where will I sleep?”


Blake said, “Me and you will take Nevil’s room, and Nevil and Kole will sleep in Kole’s room.”


I said OK. I guess I didn’t see a problem as long as he and I were together. I felt dizzy real bad, but throwing up had cleared my head a bit. Still, I really, really needed to lie down. I was too dizzy, and the room was spinning. I felt as if I would pass out.


I flopped very hard into the chair, making it slide as my ass found a spot. While I tried to hold on to the spinning room, drool escaped from my lips as my body and stomach contractions tried to urge up more vomit, but all that came was drink-flavored spit with stomach acid. Kole passed me a napkin and continued with the rest to drink more. Probably whiskey. God, I will never drink again, I proposed to myself as I laid my head back, watching the ceiling spin. Listening to them laugh, I figured someone must had made a joke. I wanted to scream, Shut the fuck up!


But I stayed quiet, for I was the guest, so I bore with the problem. After perhaps some minutes, I opened my eyes, or maybe they were closed for a little over twenty minutes. “I couldn’t take it anymore,” I told Blake. “Please, I must lie down.” I told him the sides of my head were pounding.


So Blake took me into the room. Ah, the bed looked like heaven! I took my shoes off and climbed into the bed. Fuck removing my clothing—I just wanted to sleep forever. He started removing his T-shirt. But that wasn’t my concern. I was hoping that there were no spiders, bedbugs, or lizards. But all I noticed was that the place was a little dusty. No worse than the motel rooms in the Bronx, New York.


I shivered with thought. Blake climbed on the bed and started kissing my neck from behind me. I was not pretending to sleep, but I was just lying, facing the wooden cabinet, trying to just relax. It felt good to lie down after a long day. But as he was feeling all up my body and I felt the heat from his breath, I couldn’t help but get excited. Turning around, I touched his chest, allowing my fingers to map through his chest hairs.


As he kissed me, I tried to keep up with his alcohol kisses. I allowed my tongue to glaze the insides of his mouth. Damn, he tasted so good. I wrapped my right leg around his waist, alerting his stiff, curve-headed snake where the entrance to my wet garden was. I had become damn horny, and I just wanted to be fucked as wild, hard, and fast as he could.


I didn’t need foreplay. He was good to go; I was as wet as I was ever going to get. I was humping against his dick, hoping that would cause it to slide right up into me, for only our tongues had joined us together at that point. He took the cue, and he tested my wetness with his fingers, inserting them inside and withdrawing them quickly. Moving my waist until I was completely on my back, he had arched over me as a lion does once it pounced upon its prey.


He entered swiftly and deeply. I could feel every inch, every movement as he started pounding wildly. I wrapped my legs around him. God, we were made for each other. We fitted well. I felt him tremble as he released himself inside me. He didn’t last as long as he did earlier, maybe because of the drink.


I was unsatisfied, and my insides throbbed for more. I could still feel his dick inside me where it left its imprint of life. I wanted more, but instead, he withdrew, releasing some of his juices to drip down the hairs of my pussy. Reaching down to touch the sticky mess, I smiled, hoping it might give us a baby. He didn’t have one, and I wanted to be the woman to give him a family. I was happy, but then a knock on the door woke me out of my fantasy.


Blake got up to open the door, and the other three came in, loud and rude. I covered up with the slightly dusty sheet. And laughter became what appeared to be arguing and yelling. I didn’t understand, but it looked very heated. I became scared, but I couldn’t move to stop them, for I was not dressed and needed the shelter and protection of the sheet.


Blake looked so pissed off that I thought they were going to start a fistfight. I needed to use the bathroom—my bladder had had enough. I was surprised I didn’t piss on him as he thrust inside me. If I had orgasmed, maybe I would have pissed on him.


They were all yelling, and they were so close to each other. I was getting nervous. If Blake hit his friend, where would I stay? His brother was on his side, so it seemed, and he held Blake from getting too close to Nevil.


If I could only pull on my clothing, I could stop them somehow. But then, as veins appeared on the side of Blake’s forehead, Kole pulled him away toward the wooden cupboard or cabinet. I think Nevil had the last word and won the argument—if only I knew what was being said. Blake took the bottle of drink from Amin’s hands and took a drink, sitting on the floor and covering his head with his arms. He wasn’t facing me, and I was like, What the fuck? Why aren’t they leaving the room?


Nevil said something to Kole, but Kole was looking down and away without responding. Nevil and Amin approached the bed, Nevil smiling a smile that could kill the devil himself. They split, one on each side. An alarm of nervous sickness hit me. I was going to be attacked, I thought. But at that time, it was too late, for they must have seen I had become aware and rushed me.


I was too slow to jump, run, or do anything. Grabbing ahold of me, they pulled and pushed me down, Amin putting his knee into my gut and holding my arms down. I screamed for Blake and looked at him, but he continued to look away, drinking his booze. I looked toward Kole, and he was looking straight at me with his mouth open to protest, but only silence fell from his lips. Nevil said something to Blake, and Blake replied in English, “Hell, no, man, go fuck yourself.” I guess that was meant for me to hear. Nevil laughed.


He turned to Kole and spoke to him in their language, and Kole shook his head no as he replied, “No, no, no.”


Nevil yelled out in a commanding voice, his spit spraying in my face. Kole began to remove his clothing but was not looking at me. As he climbed onto the bed, I screamed in protest, “No, don’t!” and tried to get in some kicks. The two men held on to me tightly as Kole climbed on top of me. Holding his head down to avoid eye contact, he began to rub his penis onto my vagina until he became hard, inserting himself inside me, into an already-sticky hole.


Although sticky, I was also so dry, so it hurt as he moved himself inside me. I closed my eyes, biting my lips shut as my body betrayed me into climax. The friction and movements of his cock made my body turn against me. I felt defeated as I felt him release himself inside me, filling my body with shame and disgust. But I was glad it was over and wanted to cry. Kole pulled himself out and pulled his pants up. He fell to the floor slamming himself against the wall with his face to knees, hiding his face or eyes.


But before I can even get a moment to think, Nevil pulled my hair, making me sit up. His friend Amin unbuckled his pants, producing a smelly hairy cock, which was most likely unwashed. Coming to my face, Amin began slapping his gross cock across my cheeks. The feeling of throwing up overtook me, but this time, it wasn’t because of the drink but because of the aroma of filth filling up my nose. Amin moved his smelly shit across my cheeks onto my lips. His precum stuck on me, making me want to gag.


His reaction was different. He seemed eager to hurt me. Kole seemed verbally forced. What did I ever do to them? I didn’t open my mouth, so Nevil pulled my hair hard and yelled “Open!” I cried but did what he said. At this point, I knew there was no one to save me.


Amin inserted his penis into my mouth and kept pushing in, producing enough wetness for him to enjoy. Grabbing on to my head, he pushed and stroked as if he were fucking a pussy. The smell continuously forced a gagging sensation, not his small cock. Relieving himself, he let out a sigh of pleasure. Letting go of my head, I made sure not to swallow and turned to spit out the bitter Amin from my mouth. I wiped my mouth on the sheets.


The room had been deadly quiet, and I was hoping that if they killed me, it would be quick and fast. Nevil started to undress himself at this point; he knew he didn’t have to hold me. I was already degraded and had nowhere to run or no hope for a savior. I did look down and turned slightly to see if I could catch sight of Blake. He was sitting on the floor, cradling his whiskey, and I thought, Bastard!


Nevil told me to lie down and turn around. I didn’t listen. Instead, I kept looking at Blake. But it was to no avail. He never—not once, even—looked up until he heard the sound of Nevil punching me in my face and the gag I made as Nevil headlocked me into the position he wanted. Releasing me onto my stomach, he placed his knee on my back. Now I knew how it felt to be abused by a cop.


I felt that if I struggled, he would surely break my spine. So I relaxed, showing that I would not fight. It could have been his intention to break my back, for every act felt hateful. Pushing my head into the bed, I resisted enough to turn my head for air. I mumbled, “Get the fuck off me!” I couldn’t take his knees in my back any longer, in addition to, it seemed he was trying to suffocate me. Spreading my legs, I knew he was going to push himself into me. He did exactly that, but it was not into my pussy—he had inserted his finger into my ass, and I screamed.


I knew that was not the worst that was going to happen. He withdrew his finger, inserting his huge cock into my backside.


I felt my bowels and bladder was going to explode, and all I could do was scream “Oh god!” but I didn’t think God was home at that time. From the pressure, I felt piss leak from my vagina, but he kept fucking me even harder and faster, as if it turned him on that I just pissed myself and all over him as well.


He was like an animal, making all these animal noises—all I kept thinking was pink pig, and how often did these men do this? It felt like an eternity before he came, but just when I couldn’t bear it and started to cry, he grabbed my pussy, rubbing it from behind me and kissing my neck with his smelly breath as he gushed inside me. As he finished, he took extra strokes, squeezing my ass as he did so. I could smell his spit from where he had kissed me.


Ejecting himself from within me, I lay in my own piss. I pulled the sheet to cover me, hoping that no more men would join this party and that if death was to come to me, it would come in my sleep. There was no word offered, no towel. Keeping my eyes shut, I was shaking and scared and knew not what was going to happen next.


I didn’t tell my mom about the change of where I was going to be. No one knows where I am. I kept my eyes shut. The room was quiet, but everyone was there. Who was smoking? I thought. I smell smoke, was my last thought as I fell asleep.



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