Worshipping The Bully Ch.01

 Amir was excited to start college but with his crippling anxiety, he needed help going to class on the first day. Growing up in an immigrant Pakistani household was no joyride. While his mother was kind and always ready to help, his father was the exact opposite. He yelled and beat the boy any chance he got. Sometimes his own mother had to face the brunt. If he knew the scars she bore from her husband’s abuse, he would weep and lock himself away. Which is why Khadija kept it to herself. God forbid she tell her own son, expecting him to step up and be the man of the house. She knew he couldn’t hack it. Amir wasn’t the type. He was a beta at best, weak and feeble. His father’s belt saw to it. Amir was what most people would call sensitive, while others would refer to him simply as.. a pussy, a pansy, mommy’s boy, a loser, a retard.. the list goes on. 

Amir was rather fond of his mother, she stood up for him when no one else would and made sure to take care of him. His father battled his own demons. A long line of insecurities and pain from his childhood lead him to be the kind of man he is today. Ready to beat his wife because he blames her that he can’t get his cock to stay hard, he yells at his son because he sees his own shortcomings in him. He bares the weight of his own toxic masculinity, or rather, the lack of his own masculine energy which only makes him seem lesser in the eyes of his family. 

The day had arrived and Amir had no shame in asking his mother to drop him off at college. His father, Ahmed had already left for work. Khadija drove her son to college, the boy was afraid to sit behind the wheel and blamed it on a lack of confidence for never driving around. By this age, most sons take up the mantle and drive their mother to where they need to go. It’s a son’s responsibility to start taking care of their mother once they’ve come of age. Khadija didn’t mind, part of her liked that he was still dependent on her. While another wished he would grow a pair and finally be a man. She blames it on a lack of a proper father figure. 

The two of them arrived in the parking lot and Amir let out a sigh as he nervously looked at all the students walking in. Khadija smiled at him and shook his head “come on..” she said in Urdu and opened her door. “I’ll walk you to your class.” She offered him a kind smile, a reassuring smile, a smile that gave him courage as he stepped out of the door and marched along side his mother. She could feel the eyes on her. She noticed a few other students in hijabs and other south Asian students gathered together. It put her mind at ease seeing as her son would have company. 

Walking through the halls and the campus made her feel jealous. She didn’t have any of this growing up. The campus lifestyle, the liberal freedom of these students. It made envy her own son. She was happy that he could have the experience that she never did. Although, she did feel a few lingering eyes, some longing stares, it was a mix of people judging Amir and others eye fucking her. She couldn’t deny that it made her feel sexy, to be under the watchful eye of such young and virile men. The testosterone swimming in the air, the struggle for dominance all spoken through silent glances and territorial markings. If she went to college here, she probably would have left her dorm room unlocked and open for anyone that could show her a good time. Khadija shook away these thoughts even though they excited to her so much that her cunt began dampen. 

Finally they arrived at the classroom. Khadija said her goodbye and hugged her son tightly. He smiled and wished her well, the judging eyes stared at Amir. Who comes to college with their mom anyway? Khadija continued down the halls, taking in the sights and the brisk college atmosphere. She fantasied about being young again, fresh out of school, at the cusp of her teens, ready to explore and find herself. She gazed out into the large open courtyard, content that her son would have the experience that she didn’t get. 

A sudden rustle and a soft crash alerted her. She heard the soft cry of a woman and her motherly instinct kicked in. The noise came from a storage closet just down the hall. The building seemed empty since everyone was inside their classrooms now. She walked up to the door softly and heard another soft cry and whimper. Khadija couldn’t stand idly by when a girl might be in trouble or worse. She pushed the door open and froze in shock.

Down on the floor knelt a skinny black woman. Her thick curly afro was interrupted by the pale hand, gripping the curls. On his knuckles the letters WHITE were tattooed. Her top was undone exposing her firm and perky black tits, her dark nipples pierced with barbells. Saliva dripping down her exposed cleavage. Her plump lips suckling on the head of his white cock as her eyes suddenly dart to the intruder “what the fuck?!” She mumbled, with his member still in her mouth. A swift slap across the face from the other hand. The letters POWER tattooed on the knuckles. “Did I tell you, you could stop sucking you filthy monkey?” The man growled. Khadija was in shock. She finally looked up at the man in charge. He barely looked over 18, his head was completely shaved, a couple of his teeth were capped with silver. A dark tattoo resembling barbed wire ram around his neck. He was lean, muscular, his eyes were a blue as the ocean and the stubble on his jaw resembled his once dirty blonde hair. “What are you looking at camel fucker?” He taunted Khadija. “Never seen a nigger smoke a white dick before?” Hr chuckled. All the while his hand was guiding the black woman’s head up and down his meaty white cock. “You sand niggers are no better.” He taunted and spat at the corner of the room. “Have you come to see the show or join in bitch? Either shut the door and get on your knees, I ain’t got time for towel Head’s. Isn’t that right my little chimp?” He maintained his piercing gaze on Khadija, his eyes trailing down her sumptuous body, while the soft echoes of gagging and choking filled the air. He held her head down to his crotch, her arms began to flail and push him away, tapping at his legs as a sign of surrender. Finally he pulls her back and the woman gasps for air as if she were drowning. Bridges of saliva and precum stretch from her lips to his cock and balls and finally revealing the massive monster between his legs. 

His cock was bigger than anything Khadija had ever seen. She could line up every cock she’s ever had and it still wouldn’t match the length of his. The bulbous head was a perfect pinkish hue which she couldn’t help but admire. She didn’t care for the man it belonged to, but the way it looked, as if it were sculpted or made by women scientists trying to design the perfect cock with a little extra oomf just to scratch the itch they feel in their womb. The woman on the floor heaved and looked up at him, hugging his leg like a loyal dog with its tail between it’s legs. “Yes daddy..” she finally replied to his question. 

The man spat at Khadija’s feet and looked back at her. “Fuck off.” He growled and pulled the woman up by her hair and shoved her against the shelf. He pushed her pants down as it it were a mere loin cloth and took what belonged to him. He got tired of Khadija still standing there in shock, speechless, almost as if in a trance. The black woman neither did, nor said anything to deny him. She was his property, his free use slave, he shut the door on Khadija and all she could hear were the muffled moans of rampant rough fucking. 

She didn’t know how she got back home, or how she made it back safely, the entire journey was a blur filled with flashes of what she saw. His power, his rawness, his beautiful cock and his utter disregard for her presence. He wasn’t even afraid of getting caught, he saw it as an inconvenience to what he was going to do regardless of who watched. Her heart raced, her fair skin glistened with heat. She was alone at home and all she had was a cucumber to fuck herself with. The image of his wet white cock was tattooed to her mind. She could never forget it. The colour, the shape, the veins, the skin, every little detail etched into her mind. She had half a mind to put that cucumber in her mouth while fantasising of sucking him dry. To feel a cock that powerful in her mouth. To feel it penetrate her throat. To feel those heavy manly balls in her palm so full of entitled privilege and hate, full of the seed to end bloodlines, just to feel that warmth in her palm. Thinking about it pushed her over the edge for the second time in a span of 20 minutes. Even porn couldn’t get her off the way seeing a real cock like they could. She could hardly function for the rest of the day. She just thought about being in place of that black woman. Feeling his hand around her throat, feeling his cock in her gut. Spraying her cum all over his superior white dick. She was on the verge of her third orgasm when her phone rang. A quick call to reality. The limo dick husband. “One of his balls would be bigger than your little prick” she grumbled under her breath and answered the call. He merely wanted to know what was for dinner “white boy’s cum” she thought before telling him what she had in mind to prepare. 

“What time will Amir come back?”

*hopefully not before my fifth orgasm of the day* “umm.. I think around 3, I’ve already packed lunch for him.”

“Ok good. My parents are coming home tomorrow for dinner so we need to make something nice ok?”

*oh great, the father in law that wishes he could fuck me and the mother in law that fucks with my happiness anyway.* “sure! I’ll make some biryani.”

“Again? Don’t you know how to make something else?”

*I know how to make that white supremacist cum his fucking brains out.* “I can make some rotis I guess, with some chicken”

“Hmm what ever.. make biryani. It’s better”

*I fucking know it’s better you little shit. I’ve been making it for years! I should piss in for you and see if you like it then* “sounds good. I’ll go to the shop and get everything ready” 

She frowns as the line gets cut off. “Not even a bye? No thanks? Asshole” she snarled and tossed her phone aside. “Alright.. one for the road” she giggled t herself and continued fucking her wet cunt with the cucumber. 

Khadija had gotten her ingredients and returned home. She noticed Amir’s shoes by the door and could hear soft whimpers coming from the living room. She walked in to see Amir kneeling at their place of prayer. Tears rolling down his cheek as he looked to Allah. 

“Amir?! What happened?” She called out and rushed to him. Dropping the grocery bags on the couch. “I’m not going back there!” He cried.

“Tell me what happened?”

“This ass-“ he paused to stop himself from swearing. “This boy.. he..” Amir looked up at his mother and exposed his black eye and busted lip. Khadija gasped in shock and held him close. “Who did this?!” Her eyes filled with tears. Who could hurt her baby boy like this? Why would anyone hurt him?

“There’s this boy.. he called me all kinds of names. I can’t.. I won’t repeat them to you. And he told me to go back to my country. He and his friends started beating me up because I told them I was born here just like them!” He leaned into his mother’s bosom for comfort. His tears seeping through the fabric and dampening her skin. She was filled with rage. “What’s his name? Who did this?” She asked.

“I don’t know his name.. he just attacked me for no reason..” Amir wiped his tears “he was tall, and he has a lot of tattoos.. one around his neck that looked like some kind of chain or something.”

Khadija’s heart sank. The barbed wire tattoo. Her body filled with both anger, lust and fear. She wanted to confront the bully, slap him, show him his place and hurt him, but she was afraid of what he might do in return. What concerned her the most was.. the fact that she would probably like what he’d do to her in return. “I’ll go and talk to him. Alright?” She said brushing his hair back and kissing his forehead. “I’ll bring it to the notice of the dean, and then it’ll all be sorted okay?” She smiled and wiped his tears away. Amir nodded. He always believed his mother could make anything right. “Alright go take a shower and change. You can help me get dinner ready.” She smiled and stood up along with him. She watched him leave she told him she would tell the dean but she had other plans. The dean wasn’t going to do anything. They never do. White privilege has sunk itself too deep for the dean to care. She had to take matters into her own hands.

Khadija stood in the kitchen, her hands trembling as she gripped the edge of the counter. The image of that arrogant white boy’s thick, veiny cock refused to leave her mind, even as guilt gnawed at her for thinking about it while her son cried upstairs. *What kind of mother am I?* she thought, shame burning her cheeks. Yet her pussy ached, slick and needy.

She changed into the deep maroon abaya anyway, the fabric hugging her full breasts and wide hips. A touch of perfume. A fresh hijab. She told Amir she was going back to speak to the dean. The lie felt heavier this time.

The campus was quiet. She found the emergency stairwell and pushed the heavy door open.

He was there on the landing, the black girl on her knees servicing him with sloppy, wet sounds. He looked up and smirked.

“Back so soon, towelhead? That little paki bitch must’ve run crying straight to Mommy.”

Khadija’s stomach twisted. “You hurt my son. He came home with a black eye and a busted lip. Leave him alone. Please.”

The boy laughed, holding the black girl’s head down on his cock until she gagged. “Or what? You gonna cry to the dean? That faggot’s mine to break whenever I want.”

He finally pulled the girl off and sent her away with a slap on the ass. Then he grabbed Khadija’s wrist in a firm grip.

“Not here. Follow me, sand whore.”

He dragged her up the stairs to the top-floor maintenance walkway — dusty, secluded, hidden behind old tarps and cleaning equipment. No cameras. No one around. The door clicked shut behind them.

Khadija backed against the wall, heart pounding. “I’m serious. He’s my son. Just… stay away from him. I’ll do whatever you want if you leave him alone.”

The words slipped out before she could stop them. Her face burned with humiliation.

He stepped closer, towering over her, that cruel smirk widening. “Whatever I want? Careful, camel-fucker. You don’t know what you’re offering.”

Khadija swallowed hard, eyes darting to the bulge in his jeans. Guilt crashed over her — thoughts of Ahmed, of Amir praying downstairs, of the life she was supposed to live. *This is wrong. I’m a married Muslim mother. I shouldn’t even be here.* But the memory of that massive white cock made her thighs press together.

“I… I mean it,” she whispered, voice shaking. “Protect my son. Don’t touch him again. In return… I’ll… I’ll come when you want. I’ll service you. Just him. Please.”

He grabbed her chin roughly, forcing her to meet his icy blue eyes. “Say it properly, bitch. Tell me you’ll be my secret Muslim cumrag to keep your weak little son safe.”

Tears pricked her eyes. She hated how her body responded — nipples hardening, cunt growing wetter. “I’ll… I’ll be your secret cumrag,” she forced out, voice barely above a whisper. “Just don’t hurt Amir anymore. Please.”

He laughed darkly, clearly enjoying her reluctance. “Good girl. On your knees then. Let’s seal the deal.”

Khadija hesitated, hands fidgeting with the hem of her abaya. *Allah forgive me…* But she sank down anyway, the rough concrete biting into her knees. He unzipped and pulled out his massive cock — thick, pale, veined, the fat pink head already glistening with precum. It looked even bigger up close, heavy and intimidating.

“Hands behind your back,” he ordered.

She obeyed, clasping her wrists, tears of shame rolling down her cheeks even as her mouth watered.

He slapped the heavy shaft against her face — once, twice — smearing precum across her cheek and hijab. “Open.”

Khadija parted her lips reluctantly. He pushed the head inside slowly, letting her tongue explore the salty, musky taste. She gagged softly as he went deeper, stretching her mouth.

“Fuuuuck, that’s a warm Muslim throat,” he groaned. “Bet your husband’s tiny paki prick never felt anything like this.”

He started thrusting with long, deliberate strokes, fucking her face while she knelt there, reluctant but obedient. Saliva dripped down her chin onto her heaving breasts. Every time she tried to pull back for air, he pushed deeper, making her choke and sputter.

“Look up at me, whore. Eyes on the man who owns your son’s safety now.”

Her teary brown eyes met his. The humiliation burned, but she kept sucking, tongue swirling around the underside of his shaft as best she could. He used her mouth leisurely, savoring her reluctance — pulling out to slap his slick cock on her tongue, rub it across her lips, then sliding back in deeper.

For long minutes he edged himself like this. Slow, deep throat-fucking that made her throat bulge. Fast, shallow pumps that left her gasping. He made her lick every inch — the heavy balls, the veiny shaft, the sensitive head — all while calling her every degrading name.

“You’re really doing this for that beta son, huh? Pathetic. Married Muslim mommy on her knees choking on bully cock just so her little faggot doesn’t get slapped again.”

Khadija moaned around him despite herself, shame mixing with unwanted arousal. Her pussy was soaked, clit throbbing, but she kept her hands behind her back.

He finally gripped her hijab-covered head with both hands. “Gonna cum, bitch. Swallow it all if you want your deal to stand.”

He buried himself deep. Thick, powerful ropes of hot cum flooded her throat. Khadija choked and swallowed frantically, tears streaming as she took every drop. He held her there until he was empty, then pulled out slowly, strings of saliva and cum connecting her swollen lips to his cock.

“Clean it.”

She licked him obediently, tongue gentle and thorough, cleaning every trace while fresh tears fell.

He tucked himself away and looked down at her ruined face with satisfaction. “Good start, towelhead. Next time I see your son, he better not even glance at me wrong. Or the deal’s off. Understand?”

Khadija nodded weakly, voice hoarse. “Yes… I understand.”

He left her there on her knees.

She stayed for a long moment, fingers slipping under her abaya to rub her aching clit. She came hard within seconds, biting her lip to stay quiet, the taste of his cum still thick on her tongue.

When she finally got home, Amir looked up hopefully.

“Did you talk to the dean, Mom?”

Khadija forced a gentle smile, cum still warm in her belly.

“Yes, beta. Everything will be fine now.”

She kissed his forehead and went to start dinner, already dreading — and craving — the next time she’d have to uphold her shameful agreement.

**End of Chapter 1**