Date: Thu, 23 Oct 2014 16:45:37 +0000 (UTC)
From: AfroerotiK <paradigmatic_shift@yahoo.com>
Subject: My Perfect Pet

My Perfect Pet

There is no such thing as the perfect submissive.  There's no such thing as
a perfect Domme for that matter either.  There is, however, a symbiosis, a
precious and delicate balance, an equilibrium that can only be achieved
between Domme and sub, involving owner and pet that transcends all other
relationships.  No vanilla/romantic relationship can compare to the bond
that is formed when complete trust and adoration marries with utter
depravity and absolute control.  When the desires of the Domme perfectly
match the perversions of the sub, when the hunger of the filthy bitch
satisfies the appetites of the Divine Bitch, perfection in domination and
submission is achieved.

I created Michael.  I made him from a vision formed from my perverse
imagination.  When I met him online all those many years ago, he was
submissive and eager but he needed to be molded.  Without a doubt his blond
hair, blue eyes, his transparent pink skin and inherent slutty nature, and,
of course, his laughably small but typical white cock made him a prime
candidate for my particular brand of racial domination.  He had to learn a
very expensive lesson after he sent out a racist email about Obama.  He had
to pay and pay dearly for that little mistake.  I asked him how, in fact,
he could profess to be submissive to Blacks in private, especially
intelligent, articulate, professional Black men exactly like Obama but
espouse racist thoughts to his friends and co-workers.  He had no answer
other than to feign outrage, behave arrogantly, lie, and deny – behavior
absolutely typical of white men when they are wrong.  Learning that
expensive lesson humbled him.  He recognized how fucked up he was to
profess love and worship of Black men in private, to crave denigration and
humiliation from men of African descent sexually and then pretend he was
superior in public.

Our virtual relationship started out slow.  At first, he provided me with
tributes.  He did so willingly and of his own free will, with absolutely no
coercion or pressure on my part.  I think that's what made him stand out
from all the rest of the subs who said they desired my attention.  I'm not
a financial Domme and I don't solicit, demand, or require tributes in any
form from subs.  So when he voluntarily provided the funds for me to get a
brand new laptop, without strings or attempts to manipulate me to dominate
him, I found favor in him.  It was a thoughtful gesture that made me happy
and, in turn, gave him joy in pleasing me.  From there, things just seemed
to flow naturally.  I was dominant, he was submissive, and we understood
our roles very well.  He wasn't overly whiny and annoying but he wasn't
arrogant and obnoxious either.  It took us a lot of late night
conversations to get to a point where he understood that I needed him to be
submissive behind closed doors but that he had to be able to engage me as
my equal; the perfect complement to my personality.  I needed a sub who was
as exceptional in his hunger for depravity as I am and as balanced, sane,
and as charming as my vanilla persona is as well.

Today, after lots of bumps in the road, Michael has become all that I had
ever hoped for and dreamed of in a submissive.  More than his miraculous
social transformation that allowed him to perfectly parrot my positions on
race and racism in public; I expertly and patiently crafted and molded him
into the single-most filthy slut, cum whore, and insatiable queen addicted
to black dick I had ever encountered.  His boicunt stays wet, throbbing,
and ready for fucking at the drop of a hat, like a good whore always is.
Even in chastity, he remains constantly aroused and dripping, in a
persistent state of horniness.  I allow him to maintain his job but he has
voluntarily all but given up his regular social life, friends, family, and
outside interests for our D/s relationship.  Behind closed doors,
immediately, from the very milli-second he walks beyond the majestic foyer
of my custom home after work, he is subjected to some sort of extreme
sexual situation where his nasty butthole is stretched, filled, and fucked
relentlessly.  Every day is a new adventure to see how far I can push him,
to see how many loads of cum he can take, to see what sorts of extreme and
nasty things I can think of and to get him to a sub space where he not only
enjoys my warped demands but where he craves, needs, and BEGS for more.
Honestly, I think his depth of perversion goes beyond my creative scope but
for now I keep finding new and innovative ways to add variety to our
repertoire of kinky games that seem to keep him satisfied.  Well, at least
as much as he can be satiated.

Reflecting back, our first meeting was extreme by most standards; it was
pretty typical for the sorts of encounters that we've come to share
however.  I remember very vividly that first Friday evening as we dined at
a cute little bistro on the river.  Arriving early, he was nervous and
fidgeting as he sat at the bar waiting not so patiently.  I arrived exactly
on time with my usual flair that turned heads when I walked in.  I made
sure to exaggerate my moves, sway my hips accented by the click of my high
heels on the wooden floor.  I extended my hand in greeting and Michael
stared in disbelief, frozen to his bar stool.  If I had said, "BOO!" I'm
sure he would have pissed his pants right there in public.  His hands shook
with nerves as we were seated for dinner and he held my chair.  I almost
got up from the table and walked away I was so irritated with his inability
to have a normal conversation.  If the night wasn't so beautiful and the
view wasn't so damned spectacular I would have excused myself 15 minutes
into the evening.  I kept saying, "Take a deep breath," and eventually, he
started to relax, to gain control of his nerves and we began having a very
pleasant exchange about the intricacies of straight ahead jazz and the
wretched scum they call smooth jazz.  We were able to converse freely and
comfortably about all things kinky, casually discussing things that would
have made the people at the next table cringe in horror had they had been
listening carefully.  In many ways, our friendship was cemented that
evening, over amazing seafood and wine and laying the foundation for what
would become the ultimate union of Domme and sub.

After an amazing dinner, as we sipped our coffee and slid molten lava cake
around the plate with our forks, too full to eat another bite, I said,
"There's a club not too far from here, would you like to join me in an
evening of play?"  He looked like a deer caught in headlights, staring
blankly at me, eventually mumbling something incoherent, visibly shaking.
You would have thought I would have said, "Would you kiss my ass, right
here, right now, in front of all of these people."

"Relax, sweetie," I reassured him, "It's okay, we don't have to do
anything.  I was offering because there's chemistry between us, because I
spoke to a couple of my friends earlier and they said that they would be
hanging out and the place isn't far from here.  I was just . . ."

Before I could even finish my thought, he blurted out, "I'll do it."  His
breathing was labored and it looked like he might hyperventilate any
minute.  "It's just that . . . I didn't . . . you know . . . I didn't think
that we would do anything tonight . . . I thought we were just meeting to
get to know each other in person." He was hyperventilating.

"Calm down, relax, take a deep breath," I assured him for the thousandth
time.  I could see that he was anxious and aroused but also a bit
overwhelmed at the same time.  I did my best to help him settle down.  "I
have some friends, some male friends in fact, and we get together about
once a month to play.  We are all connected because we are all from Kenya.
Jomo and Matunde, we all call him Matt, they were both born in Kenya but
moved to the US when they were small children.  Reginald and I are both
first generation American.  Our parents were born in Africa and we were
born in the US but we both lived in Mombossa, Eldoret, and Kisumu for much
of our adolescent years, visiting our grandparents and cousins and such and
we continue to travel back and forth with some frequency.  I met Reggie on
the plane coming home and I introduced him to Jomo and he introduced me to
Matt."  Michael seemed spellbound, captivated, hanging on my every word.
"Are you okay, sweetie," I asked, genuinely concerned about him and his
state of mind.

"Ma'am, I had no idea . . . You know, I've been to Kenya," he said shyly,
almost imperceptibly.  I went to Narobi and Narok and I was VERY aroused by
the concept of submitting sexually to the Maasai people . . . it has been a
fantasy of mine for a very long time."

We both laughed out loud and shared a moment of pure destiny and
coincidence.

I continued on.  "Well, like I was saying, the fellas and I all met and
related because of our Kenyan connection but we share a fetish connection
as well and we all like to get together and play every once in a while.
Being who I am, with my following, I'm sort of the group leader of course
and we've had some pretty amazing times with me heading up my marauding
band of sexy brothas.  Tonight, they called me and asked me if I wanted to
hang out at the spot.  I told them that I had plans and they said if things
didn't work out, to swing by.  They also said that if things DO work out,
that I could swing by and bring them a toy to play with."

"Have you ever, I mean have they ever used a white boy for you Ma'am?  I
mean, what would be expected of me?"

After a little more deep breathing I told him, "Yes, we have used white
boys before.  In fact, that's our specialty.  We've done everything, and I
mean everything with them.  I control the subs, the situation, what
happens, and how far things go.  They do the fucking.  If you want, and
only if you consent, we can meet up with them later this evening and I'll
see what sort of cock-sucking cum slut you can really be."

Michael swallowed hard.  "I'll do whatever you want me to do
Mistress. ANYTHING."  His desire to please was written all over his face
but I wasn't really sure he was up for anything that I would require of
him.  I thought I would put him to the test however and see just how far I
could push him.  I certainly didn't have anything to lose and if had
regrets the next day, that wouldn't be my problem.

We walked to the car.  "I'll drive," I said, and I unlocked the door to my
car and held open the rear passenger door.  He climbed in and I made sure
to buckle him in like he was a toddler in a child seat in plain view of the
other restaurant patrons who had a clear view of the parking lot from the
deck.  Leaning over him, my cleavage was inches from his face.  I could
hear him inhaling the fragrance of the mango shea butter that I wore to
make my brown skin glisten.  People stared, some with shock on their faces,
others with intense curiosity.  I'm sure some couldn't quite figure out
what sort of dynamic was going on between us and I'm sure others could only
have imagined in their wildest fantasies what was about to happen.

We drove a short distance to the club, less than 15 minutes in fact, and I
watched in my rear view mirror how Michael was squeezing his cock through
his pants, trying to play with it discretely but more so to make
adjustments because he was hard and leaking.  He had nothing but questions.
"Do they have big cocks?  This place we are going, what's it like?  Am I
going to get to do anything with you?  Are people going to watch me do
. . . you know, stuff?  Are you lovers with all of them?"  He wouldn't stop
asking questions.  I answered some and let him wonder about others.

"Jomo and I dated for about a year. We are still great friends and we'll
probably get back together in the future but for right now, he wants to
concentrate on his career and says he doesn't have time for a relationship.
We still love each other and we get together every once in a while and we
occasionally fuck like wild beasts, sometimes in front of others just for
the fun of it, other times in private because the chemistry is so strong.
The rest of the guys observe a very strict `hands off' policy as far as
penetration is concerned but they have both eaten my pussy on more than a
few occasions with Jomo there to give his `permission' sort of.  They are
both very respectful of that male bond thingie that men have and they don't
want to do anything to destroy the friendship so they are cool with just
getting together to explore our kinks and not really too stressed about sex
with me.  Besides, I make sure they get all the pussy they can handle from
white bois.  I have so many white bois who want to submit to me, we could
all get together and they could fuck someone different every night of the
week and there still would a line of subs waiting for their turn."

In that instant, a look of fear came over Michael's pale face and made him
look even whiter.  "Ma'am, If they are going to fuck me, I didn't, prepare
for that if you know what I'm saying."

I knew exactly what he was saying but I pretended not to.  "No sweetie,
what do you mean?"

"Well," he stuttered, "Sometimes, when . . . well, what I'm trying to say
is, if you are going to tell them to fuck me, they might be offended if I
. . . how can I put this?"

"Just say it precious, no need to be afraid, just say whatever's on your
mind."

"OK," he took a deep breath.  "Usually, if I know I'm going to be getting
fucked, I will take precautions to be clean, you know, back there."

"Ohhhhh, you mean that your asscunt might be dirty and you will get shit on
their dicks if they fuck you?" I've always found the white boys cower at
the plain truth being spoken unapologetically.  I could see him squeeze his
semi-erect cock harder in the rear view mirror.  He moaned in arousal as I
said, "Well, you won't mind sucking their filthy cocks clean in that case,
licking those thick, black dicks covered in your shit, up and down the
shaft streaked with brown stains and the engorged heads covered with your
smelly crap and their hot sperm from fucking you hard and deep in your
dirty shit hole?  That won't be a problem, will it?  Will you look up at
them and show them what a dirty pig you are that you are eager to lick your
own foul waste just to get a taste of their sweet, hot cum and feel their
gorgeous cocks in your shit eating mouth.  That's the price you have to
pay, isn't it, for getting three, thick, hard, black cocks shoved deep and
hard in your asshole, pounding the shit out of you, making you scream,
making that hole gape open, and dumping their hot loads of sperm deep
inside you?"  He didn't need to answer.  He was moaning uncontrollably at
that point and his breathing was labored.  "I hope for your sake that you
aren't too full because you are going to be eating all that nasty packed
fudge while they fuck you deep in your shitbox.  I better not smell any of
your shit so you would be wise to beg them to fuck your mouthcunt the
second you think there might be any shit on them.  Who knows, before the
night is over, you might be so be such a depraved shit-eating pig, that you
will be begging my friends to shit in your mouth."  I smiled sweetly. "The
night is so very young." The fact that a black woman, especially one so
sophisticated and classy, was so casually discussing the prospects of him
eating shit, and being so graphic about it, almost made Michael cum in his
pants.

Michael was sobbing a tearless cry, whimpering like a baby.  "Yes, Ma'am,"
he whispered over and over again as we pulled into the parking lot of the
club, wanting, no needing to be subjected to that and more.  Coincidentally
and totally without planning, Reginald pulled in seconds after us.  I left
Michael in the back seat of my car, his mouth hanging open, confused and
wondering about the possible solution to his dilemma, drooling at the
thought of doing what I had suggested, actually he was more aroused about
the concept of doing something so nasty in front of people.

Reggie and I both got out of our respective vehicles and hugged in the
crisp night air.  We caught up with one another as it had been some time
since we had last had an opportunity to chat.  Michael sat in the back seat
of my car and I pointed to him and Reginald casually glanced and we kept on
with our friendly banter.  I had the child locks in place so Michael
couldn't get out of the car without me and he was helpless to do anything
but sit there with his veritable nose pressed against the window and stare.
Jomo and Matt were car-pooling so we decided to wait for them so that we
could all go in the club together.

We didn't have to wait long; it was only a matter of minutes before they
pulled in.  I'm sure it must have felt like a million light years to
Michael however.  Jomo and Matt parked and got out and they all did the
hugging/kissing ritual with me and the "giving dap" male ritual with each
other.  Jomo, I guess feeling particularly flirtatious and quite possibly
even romantic, pulled me to him and ran his hands all over my full
backside, his hands caressing the smooth, chocolate-colored silk of my
dress.  He put his tongue in my mouth, pressed his soft, full lips gently
to mine and kissed me deeply, passionately and I forgot all about anyone
else or anything else for that matter for a brief moment.

"OK guys, break it up.  I'm in the mood to get my dick sucked now," Matt
chimed in.  "And little white boy over there looks like he is hungry to
swallow my load.  Hell, I might even have two loads for him."  We all
glanced towards the back seat of my car and saw Michael there with his pale
face glowing in the night and laughed at him looking like a wild-eyed child
imprisoned and seeking release.

I let Michael out of the car and I think he assumed there were going to be
introductions and some sort of cordial conversation but my boys didn't give
a fuck about him.  He was just another slut to be used by them, they didn't
care about his name, his likes and dislikes, they simply trusted me to
direct the situation and they would go with the flow.

The club was really a swingers club for straight couples but in recent
years, they had relaxed their "no homosexual play" rule.  So while they
didn't actually promote it, they didn't frown upon it either.  I guess with
so many cock-hungry white bois out there, they needed to adapt and change
with the times.  Bisexual women were always welcomed at the club so on the
last Friday night of every month, they had a "Bi-friendly Party" that was
geared towards men exploring their same sex desires.  We didn't always use
white boys to play with, sometimes we went there to just enjoy some sensual
fun.  The owners knew that when my boys and I walked through the door
however, that there was going to be a super hot show and they would always
make an extra large private room available just for us.

Courtney, the goth chick at the door who takes the money and gives out the
membership cards and stuff like that, said, "Ohhhh, hi you guys.  Long time
no see, we missed you last month.  Will you be needing a room with a view
tonight or do you want something a little more secluded?"  She looked
Michael up and down with a slight look of disgust and possibly even envy on
her face.  We all conspired, did a quick vote and decided that tonight we
wanted a room with a large window for voyeurs to watch and, if possible, we
wanted a room that was large enough to accommodate people on sofas to sit
and watch if it was available.  I think we got such VIP treatment because
people would show up just to watch us play, even on the nights we weren't
there, with the hopes that they could see some of the super hot play that
we brought to the club.  Lots of swing clubs have little enclaves of sex
but mostly people just wander around either looking for people who are
fucking.  With us, we brought our own party favors and would get the party
started the minute we walked in the door.  That inspired other people to
loosen up and do their own things in their own private rooms and even in
the public group rooms.

When most people hear that my friends and I are all African, they form an
opinion that we are going to be half dressed African savages with beads and
spears and doing a traditional Up Down Dance.  My friends were all very
good looking, if I must say so myself, accomplished, professional and
Americanized to a certain extent.  While none of us have forgotten our
history or where we come from, we've assimilated well into our surroundings
and we've flourished in Western society.  I think we've all maintained that
delicate balance that allows us to remain true to our history and culture
but also to take advantage of living in the most industrialized, capitalist
nation of the world without becoming enslaved to the dysfunctional and oft
times hysterical behaviors that are so rampant upon our peers who denounce
our homeland.

We ran the full gamut in terms of skin color, Matt and Reginald were the
deepest, most delicious shade of rare African ebony found anywhere on the
planet, their rich, dark skin almost casting a bluish hue they were both so
dark.  I fell right in the middle with a milk chocolate complexion and
anyone who knew anything about Kenya could tell by my signature haircut and
facial features that I was Maasai.  In fact, Matunde and I were both Maasai
so we both were tall and our frames were lean.  That's not to suggest
either of us were skinny.  I have the curves that make a woman a Goddess
and a man's mouth water and Matt spent many hours in the gym building
muscle mass and ate a diet that filled out his frame that was
uncharacteristic of Maasai men.  Jomo was Luo and Reggie was Kikuyu but
Jomo was a mixture of Asian, African, and European bloodlines so his
features were "more refined" as they say.  Jomo was Obamaesque in
complexion.  Reginald was the shortest of the bunch at 5'9", Matt was over
6' tall according to my estimates and Jomo was the tallest of the bunch.
I, of course, am 5'10" but in heels, I'm almost as tall as my sweetie pie.

I let Matt give Michael a tour of the place, get comfortable with his
surroundings while I got drinks for everyone from the bar.  The rest of us
socialized with the other patrons and danced a bit as well.  Because the
four of us have such an unconventional friendship, because we are so
comfortable with our sexuality, it was nothing for Jomo and Reggie to start
kissing me on my neck, undressing me on the dance floor and fingering me to
the beat while white people stared in awe of our sensuality.  We are all
bisexual and not ashamed of that in any way so we turned heads when our
play culminated in passionate, sensual eroticism where we were all just a
tangle of beautiful bodies licking, sucking and fucking each other without
regard to gender.  Of course, the other Black people in the club were
interested in watching us as well and would often start their own little
public displays of affection only appropriate in a sex club inspired by our
freedom, beauty, and blatant sexuality.

By the time Matt and Michael came back from exploring the club and going
over the rules, I was hot and bothered and ready to play.  That had given
Courtney just enough time to velvet rope off, The Madison, my very favorite
room that could accommodate us in comfort and allow for a few spectators to
recline and watch with relative ease as well.  We found our way to the room
and people started to follow us, mostly regulars who knew that the white
boy with us was about to get fucked like no one's business.

As the five of us poured into the semi private room and began to make
ourselves comfortable all I could say was, "What the fuck is that god awful
smell?"  I put my hands over my mouth and nose and I almost wretched
because of the foul odor.

"Yeah, that's ole boy.  I guess he's so nervous that he's sweating like a
pig." Matt's face was scrunched up and he was holding his nose and pointing
at Michael.

"God Damn, he stinks like a fucking pig," Reginald said.

"Well, one of you needs to take him to the showers and get him washed
because he is going to make me vomit," I said.

Michael made an attempt to defend himself with some lame, feeble excuses
but I wasn't hearing any of it.  We all trotted over to the shower rooms
and the boys did rock, paper, scissors to see who would be the unlucky
bastard to have the job of bathing whitey.  Reggie lost.  "And burn those
fucking clothes," I yelled, "cuz I don't want him riding back in my car
smelling like a barnyard animal."  We'd actually been through this routine
before.  It was really a ritual in humiliation more than anything else but
it was working.  Oh, trust me he stunk, but the thrill was in the imagery
of him being bathed like a little boy by his big, Black daddy.  It seems
like the hormones and pheromones of white boys kick into overdrive when
they are nervous and it comes out in their pores as a funky smell,
regardless of their personal bathing or deodorant habits.  And what could
be more humiliating than having to be bathed like a child, to stand there
and have viewers gather and whisper in not so hushed tones about how
embarrassing it must be to have to endure such treatment?

Reggie undressed Michael, taking off his clothes like a father does his
child.  Michael stood there, trying to cover up everything as it was being
uncovered.  Naked and exposed, he blushed from head to toe, making his
pasty flesh turn pink, and quite honestly, slightly repulsive to me.
Reggie undressed and everyone in the room couldn't help but stare.  Even
the men who called themselves straight, and they were few and far between
on a night like tonight, had to take a second look.  A perfectly sculpted
body and a dick of mammoth proportions, with skin that was blacker than
midnight, he was the embodiment of perfection.  In contrast to Michael, the
two literally and figuratively looked like night and day.

Under the spray of the communal shower, Reggie soaped Michael up roughly
from head to toe.  He had no choice but to comply and conform to Reggie's
commands as he twisted and contorted Michael's body, lifting his arms and
washing away the stench from his pits and bending him over and making a
huge show of spreading his ass cheeks and fingering his asshole.  Michael,
struggling to stay balanced, braced himself on the shower wall and thrust
his ass backwards, revealing his true slutty nature.  As women and men
alike, both black and white started to gather in the small communal shower
room, Michael moaned loudly as Reggie had three, soapy, thick fingers
twisting and thrusting in and out of his asshole.  He humped back, his face
pressed against the cold shower wall as Reggie gripped the back of his neck
and forcefully held him in place as he pulled his cock back, between his
legs, and soaped and stroked it roughly.  On his tip toes, teetering
between shame and pleasure, he grabbed his ankles as he was being milked
like a cow.  The crowd that gathered was closer now, turned on by the
atypical show of a Black man so easily manhandling a white man, almost with
disdain.  Reggie's cock stood out straight, practically aimed right at
Michael's hole and men and women alike who were spectators would have
gladly gotten on their knees and sucked off that tower of erotic black
flesh.

Satisfied that Michael was not only clean but sufficiently humiliated,
Reggie grabbed a couple of towels and dried him off.  Holding out his hand,
he said, "Let's go."  Michael reached for that strong hand like a little
boy and padded naked through the nosey, aroused onlookers as Reggie waved
his hand and they quickly dispersed like Moses parting The Red Sea.  The
crowd scurried quickly behind like rats enchanted by the tune of the
African pied piper, anxious to see how the rest of the evening would
unfold.

Matt, exceptionally horny that evening, started undressing and said, "Move
out the way, I need to get my dick sucked now.  I'm so ready to bust a nut
I can't see straight."

"Oh hellllll naw.  I had to wash his funky ass so I get first dibs at
whatever hole I want.  I want it tight and hot for me."  Reggie was already
naked and erect and he did have a right to go first.  Jomo and Matt nodded
reluctantly as Michael looked at me for permission or direction as to what
to do.

"What are you waiting for bitch, get on your knees and service my beautiful
friend," I commanded.  He complied, anxious and ready to get the party
started, his heart pounding out of his chest.  Reggie stood stoically; his
manhood before him, the head glistening with precum as he stroked it to
maintain his stiffness.  People started squeezing into the room, trying to
find a spot where they could see everything.  Glancing around, for a brief
moment, Michael felt self-conscious.  All of these people were going to see
him be used, abused, and dominated by three beautiful Black men and a
gorgeous Ebony Domme.  The tiny part of him that is white, the holdover
part of him that had that instinct, that arrogant gene, that little white
devil who whispered in his ear and said white men were not, under any
circumstances, to be submissive to black men, caused him a few seconds of
hesitation.  He looked around the room and saw the faces of strangers whose
minds he could almost read, that said, "What sort of white man would lower
himself to do something like that?  What sort of white man could degrade
his race and his gender to let those savages use him?"  All of those
thoughts and apprehensions hastily faded away when he looked in my eyes and
I simply motioned for him to do whatever he was instructed to do.  He KNEW
that his responsibility, his job was to make me proud.  It was only then
that his true nature, that of a filthy cum slut, took over.  The part of
him that made him long, no NEED to be used, fucked, abused, and degraded,
the part of his being that craved humiliation and cum took over.

Falling to his knees, Michael knelt before Reggie and blocked out all the
spectators except Jomo, Matt, and myself.  His mouth watered at the sight
before him and Reggie tormented him by waving that beautiful dick in his
face, the weight evident as his hand gripped the heavily veined shaft, the
engorged head peeking out from the thick foreskin.  Peeling back the hood,
Reggie revealed the glans of his penis and the unmistakable presence of
head cheese.  It wasn't that rank and raunchy odor some gay dudes get off
on, but it was that undeniable, manly, piss, sweat, and cum odor that was
the trademark of uncut cocks.  Knowing Reggie as I do, he probably had
fucked some woman at lunch time in his office to add a little more flavor
to the mix because that's the way his twisted mind worked.  He loved making
sure white bois KNEW unquestionably that they were sucking a man's dick: a
testosterone driven, dominant, alpha Black male's dick.  Michael closed his
eyes and inhaled the fragrance like a sommelier breathes in the aroma of a
vintage 1964 Chateau Lafite Bordeaux.

Reaching out for it, Michael stopped in mid air, looking up, asking
permission with his eyes to touch it.  Reggie nodded and he placed his hand
around the base.  His fingers were able to wrap around its girth, but just
barely.  His pale hand looked striking against the blue/black skin of his
exquisite master and Michael marveled at the contrast in skin tones that
made him aroused on a cellular level.  To him, there was nothing in the
world quite so beautiful as a thick, hard, big, black, cock, especially one
that was about to give him a copious load of hot, creamy, sperm down his
throat.  His own small, pinkish cock leaked in aroused anticipation.

One last time, he looked to me for a nod of approval and the go ahead to
begin a night of complete and utter depravity and filth.  It was as if my
signal was the starter pistol for his whorish, piggish, slutty behavior.
My nod was the proverbial, "On your mark, get set, GO!"  I made him wait.
I circled him, looked down upon him, I caressed Reginald and tongue kissed
him.  I lifted my dress and displayed my black lace covered ass a mere
inches from Michael's face.  I could have easily blown a fart right in his
face but I'm sure he would have enjoyed that more than regretted it.
Reggie fondled and caressed the full cheeks of my butt, slid his finger in
my panties between my already moistening pussy lips.  Michael whimpered
like a little bitch and started begging, "Please, please, please," over and
over and over again.  I'm not sure what he was asking for specifically
because he seemed just as mesmerized by my ass as he was by Reggie's cock,
both centimeters away from his desperate tongue.

I leaned down and whispered, "You better suck that dick and suck it good
you little white fruit cocksucker because this will be the first and last
time you ever perform for me if you don't please my friend, understand?"

Michael nodded and whined which was enough of an affirmative response for
me.  I took Reggie's dick in my hand and I stroked it; precum dripped now
from the head.  I grabbed the back of his head and fed him what was clearly
the most superb cock he'd ever had in his mouth.  "You told me you love
cum, bitch, that you love the taste of cum, well you better prove it to
me."  That cock was so thick, Michael was only able to get the first three
or four inches all the way in his mouth, leaving the vast majority of it
unattended.  He wrapped both hands around the base of his dick and
immediately set out on a rhythm to suck and stroke, suck and stroke.  The
slight taste of smegma fueled his slutty passions as his taste buds filled
with the creamy makings of a dick in heat.  He used his tongue to lick all
the creamy residue he could and used his lips to cover his teeth and make
his mouth nothing more than a pussy to be fucked and pounded.  Reggie
wasn't impressed; he wanted Michael to work for his cum, to pig out on his
cock.  He delivered a sound smack to the side of Michael's head, filling
the small room with the sound of flesh against flesh, and demanded, "Suck
my dick, slut, and make me shoot my load down your faggot throat."

Inspired, Michael, did his best porn star impersonation and began sucking
that incredible cock like his very life depended on it.  He was moaning,
slobbering, sucking, and stroking for with all his might.  He could feel
every thick vein, the soft smooth skin of the shaft, the ridge of the head
sliding in and out, in and out.  Drool ran down his face to his naked chest
as he put on a show that was turning all the spectators on.  Everyone had
moved in closer and the crowd was visibly turned on by the show.  A few of
the regulars had seen my friends in I in action before and they were turned
on by the dynamics but there were always others, first timers, who stared
in shock, awe, and what I can only assume was jealousy, or maybe it was
disgust.

I leaned in close and whispered in Reggie's ear, "Baby, fuck his throat,
jam that fat dick down his esophagus and make him choke on it.  No mercy."
Reggie responded by kissing me, pressing his full, soft lips against mine
and sliding his tongue in my mouth.  That was his way of saying, "Anything
for you sweetie," and he proceeded to grab the sides of Michael's head in
his powerful hands and skull fuck him without mercy.

There is a very subtle art to shoving your dick down someone's throat so
that they don't throw up all over your dick.  It demands patience,
restraint, mercy, and PERFECT timing.  Reggie was not versed in that
technique.  He grabbed Michael's ears like handles and began ramming,
pounding, and thrusting his hips with all his might, forcing more of his
cock down Michael's throat than most people would have thought humanly
possible.  Michael gagged and tried to push away with his hands on Reggie's
firm thighs but it was absolutely an exercise in futility.  With more than
half of his cock in Michael's mouth, he wasn't going to be happy until his
nuts were resting on Michael's chin.  Perhaps, if his dick hadn't been so
thick it might have been possible.  Tears were streaming down Michael's
face and he could feel the remnants of his dinner getting ready to come
back up.  He loved the feel and taste of that dick in his mouth.  He even
adored the staggering pain of that huge dick forcing its way past his
tonsils.  The words used and abused took on new meaning with this blowjob
and all the while he wanted to make me proud, so he sucked and swallowed
and stroked with all his might.  He was gagging, doing his best to hold on
to his stomach contents down but I knew it was only a matter of time.  I
was shocked that he had lasted as long as he did and with one more violent
thrust, Reggie forced his dick further down that throat than even I thought
possible and all the contents of his stomach came rumbling back up.
Greenish, brown slime poured out his mouth and nose and cascaded down his
body.  Michael spit and coughed and looked up at Reggie with a craze,
animalistic look in his eyes and panted like a dog, "MORE! Please, more.
Fuck my mouth some more, use me, give me that hot cum, use it like a cunt,
shove it down my throat.  MOOORRREEEE!"

That was all it took for me.  My pussy was dripping wet.  There is nothing
I love more than seeing a white man in the midst of getting used and
degraded and craving more.  Reggie found his rhythm and started fucking
that mouth pussy senseless.  I had Jomo undo the zipper of my dress and
slide me out of it.  In the midst of all the action, both he and Matt had
gotten completely undressed and they were stroking their cocks, preparing
for their turns at bat so to speak.  Still in heels, bra, and panties, I
paraded around the small room, looking at spectators dead in the eye,
visually taunting them, asking them if they wanted to be next, if they
wanted to trade places.  One of the black men in the crowd had gotten a
white woman to suck his dick while he watched but her skills were nothing
compared to Michael's; she was coughing and gagging and keep telling him to
stop.

Jomo and Matt moved in closer, surrounding Michael.  If there is a heaven
for cocksucking whores, being surrounded by three gorgeous men with
beautiful dicks, all hard and dripping has to be pretty damn close.  Not
giving a damn about asking for permission, he dove for Reggie's dick, this
time, swallowing pretty much the entire thing, his throat open and
accommodating.  The one and only goal of a true cum pig is to get that
sticky, hot load.  He wanted to taste that jism, eat it, swallow it; he
needed it inside him.  My boy Reggie made me proud, holding back and
denying him that cum, slapping his face with his hard meat, making him beg
for it.

Matt decided to get in on the play and spun him around and starting ramming
his dick in Michael's mouth next.  While his dick is the same beautiful
charcoal black color, he's cut, not nearly as thick, about the same length
but his dick as a marvelous curve to it that was made to go down a throat
perfectly.  Michael dove for that dick like he was a dying man who needed
cum to live.  His eyes watered as he took a severe throat pounding from
Matunde and I instructed him, "Suck that big, beautiful, cock you bottom
bitch, eat it, swallow it you filthy cocksucker.  Suck that cum out.  Show
everyone what a nasty cum whore you are.  Suck that hot load out so you can
get that little sissy cunt of yours stuffed.  That's what you want isn't
it, to get that pussy of yours stretched and filled with stiff, black,
cocks, right?"

Those were the magic words.  Michael and Matt both went into over drive,
Matt pounded and Michael grabbed his hips and held on tight as he swallowed
every inch, his nose was pressed against Matt's crotch as drool escaped the
sides of his mouth.  Matt knew the score and he pushed Michael away and
Jomo immediately grabbed his head and shoved his dick in that little
bitch's mouth.  For the next ten minutes, Jomo skull fucked Michael without
mercy.  I almost felt sorry for him.  The pounding was relentless and Jomo
showed no clemency, no compassion.  Harder, deeper, faster, he thrust.
"Yeah white boy, that's a good girl, show daddy how much you love that
dick, take it, suck it," Jomo taunted him as he continued with his brutal
throat fuck.

My panties were soaking wet and Reggie and Matt were fingering me, waiting
for their turn at that hot mouth again.  "Boys, first one to unload in this
cum dump gets to eat my pussy."  The fellas all nodded each one got a
twenty or thirty second shot at Michael's mouth.  Greedy slut that he was,
Michael tried his best to get both Matt's and Jomo's cocks in his mouth at
the same time.  The two of them rubbed the silky heads of their cocks
against his lips, slapping his face and alternately feeding him juicy, man
meat.  I would have bet money that Reggie would have been the first to go
because he had been aroused the longest.  In fact, it was Matt who was the
first to unload.  He started breathing hard, and he began to piston his
dick in and out of Michael's throat like a machine.  He started moaning,
and grunting, and saying, "You want this cum sissy, you want it?"  That
inspired Michael to moan and whimper louder, unable to speak because his
mouth was full.  He was practically crying tears of joy.  Matt let out a
sound that echoed in the room and pulled his dick out and shot no less than
six times, filling Michael's mouth with thick, creamy, hot, cum.

Before Matt was even finished, Reggie grabbed his head and started
stroking, saying, "Hold that cum in your mouth bitch, don't you dare
swallow, don't you dare fucking swallow until I tell you."  Every
submissive cum-loving button Michael had was being pushed.  He loved cum,
the taste of cum, he adored being used as a cum dump, he loved big black
cocks unloading in his mouth, he loved being treated like a cheap whore, he
loved being told what to do, and he craved people watching him perform for
a Black woman, he loved being on display as a sex toy, used, abused,
manipulated and hungry for more.  The taste of Matt's cum on his tongue
drove him crazy as he waited not so patiently for Reggie to empty his
balls.  Grabbing the back of his head, Reggie stroked out his baby-making
juice in Michael's mouth, overflowing now with two huge loads of authentic,
potent African cum.

Michael swallowed.  The slimy, thick, white, cum tasted like bleach and
salt, but it was the taste he craved, the taste he loved more than
anything.  He turned and crawled to Jomo.  "More, give me your cum," but
Jomo had other plans in mind.  As Matt, Reggie, and I moved to one of the
beds, both of them planned on feasting on my body, Jomo turned around and
lewdly squatted, bending over and pulling the cheeks of his ass apart.
"Get your tongue in there bitch, eat out my nasty shithole, lick it clean,
let me feel your tongue licking my insides.  Little cunt, get deep in
there.  Suck out my assjuice."  Hornier than he'd ever been in his life,
and desperate for more stimulation, more degradation, Michael grabbed those
full, brown globes and dove in.  He wasn't tentative or shy; he made a
nasty showing of tongue fucking that hole, getting in deep, sucking it for
all he was worth.  He could feel the fine hairs that surrounded the hole
against his lips.  Unbeknownst to anyone else in the room, Jomo was pushing
out his sexy hole, opening it up, flexing it, he was essentially kissing
Michael with his ass lips.

Michael kissed back.  He French kissed that asshole like it was a long-lost
lover.  Driving his tongue in as deeply as he could, he felt the tip of
something hard, something bitter tasting pushing back against him.  Jomo
looked back and smiled; it was sort of a reassuring, sadistic smile, one
that said, I'm not going to do it, but I could if I wanted to."  Michael
understood exactly what he meant and that only made him lick, suck, and
kiss that much harder.  He loved the feeling of being powerless, of being
so nasty that he could, with the snap of my fingers, become a human toilet.
Feeling brazen, he blew air up in Jomo's hole, only to be rewarded seconds
later with a hot, rank, foul-smelling fart that almost knocked him off his
knees.  He inhaled it, luxuriated in the scent and started licking harder,
sucking more, trying to get deeper.

Glancing over at me, Michael saw the look of lust and satisfaction on my
face that inspired him to pig out more.  It wasn't satisfaction because
Matt was licking and sucking my clit like a masterful pussy eater.  No
doubt, he was.  I was pleased because I had found the ultimate sub.
Michael was a true pig, he was a born slut who hungered for cum, cock, and
disgrace like babies need a mother's milk, like diabetics need insulin, and
like addicts need a fix.  I was proud.  He was the sort of sub that I could
tell to do anything, no matter how nasty, how disgusting, no matter how
many people were around and he would do it with pride.  I just knew in my
heart that I could lead him around on a leash and offer his hole to anyone
that I wanted and he wouldn't even have to turn around to see their face or
know their name, he would throw that ass up in the air and beg for his cunt
to be filled with cock and cum.  It was a Domme's greatest desire, to have
a sub with no limits, one who lives to satisfy and please me above any
other needs, desires, or wants he may have.  It was my greatest desire to
have a sub who craved the most foul, obscene treatment from Black men
possible.  Seeing him like that, with his mouth plastered to Jomo's
asshole, knowing full well that all I had to do was say the proverbial word
and Michael would make a meal of the thick, hard, logs that packed my
lover's colon; chewing them, feeling that waste slide down his throat,
entering his body, being absorbed by his very soul until he was nothing but
shit.  I made me want to cum.

The crowd was undone.  The very fabric of society is held together by the
unspoken code that certain things were only supposed to be done behind
closed doors and some things were supposed to be left to the imagination.
Here was this white man doing all the filthy things that so many of them
had dreamed about doing and not only was he not ashamed, he was proud to be
doing them with dozens of eyes watching.  This was his and my dream come
true.  He wanted nothing more than to be subjected to sexual
objectification every single day of his life, from morning till night, to
be the fuck hole, cum dump, cock sucking white queer that got black men off
for my amusement and pleasure.  He needed to be fed cum and piss around the
clock, to have his pussy stretched and sore from relentless pounding.

At this point in the evening, both my pussy and Michael's pussy needed to
get fucked.  I can't help but be aroused watching subs perform for me like
sexual circus monkey's, doing anything and everything I tell them to do for
my amusement and entertainment.  I got wet seeing white men submit,
worship, and serve black men.  Michael's body was wired wrong.  He got more
pleasure from getting deeply, soundly, savagely fucked than he got from
stroking his cock.  His asshole functioned like a pussy, an insatiable one
at that.  It would throb and twitch and wake him up from a sound sleep in
desperate need to get filled.  He was convinced it actually got wet, that
it produced a lubricant like substance that allowed him to bend over and
get the largest of cocks forcefully rammed deep in him without
preparations.  Of course, he liked a little pain with his pleasure, he
liked when he was getting fucked and it started to hurt but the man fucking
him wasn't finished, wasn't satisfied, and didn't care whether or not he
was in discomfort or not.  He enjoyed being fucked raw, being left sore, it
only made him want more cock in his asscunt.  I was ready to see that
myself.  I needed to see him fag out on some beautiful black cocks and beg,
plead, and scream for more.  Just the thought of that, the idea that he
quite possibly could be the perfect sub of my dreams who needed more dicks
than I could provide him with, whose cock would leak and drip and dribble
cum from getting hammered relentlessly.

Everyone in the room was beyond aroused at this point.  People were
panting, gasping, groping, moaning, and some were fucking like wild
animals.  Michael was the center of attention and he loved every second of
it.  This was all foreplay for him however.  He loved dicks shoved down his
throat, he loved the taste and feel of cum in his mouth, he lived to be
degraded but the main show had to be getting fucked.  The entire evening
would be for naught if he didn't get several loads of semen deposited deep
in his colon.  So while he was licking furiously, putting on a filthy show,
he was waiting for me to give the signal that the real games were to begin.

Jomo knew what time it was as well.  His dick was hard and dripping and he
was ready to RAM it in a hole and get off.  While he loved the feel of a
white man, humbled and on his knees, wildly licking the crap and filth from
his anus, he wanted to make him is bitch, mount and breed him like he was
nothing more than a rutting animal in heat.  White boys, in his eyes,
deserved to be used without mercy because they talked shit, had a feeling
of entitlement and arrogance that was truly unearned, and their true place,
their true role was of that of servant, maid, foot stool, and fuck hole to
divinely superior Africans. Abruptly, he turned and delivered a backhand
that sent Michael crashing to the floor and echoed throughout the room.
The crowd gasped.  The neurons on Michael's brain registered the hard slap
as not pleasure, but not pain either.  To him, it was just acknowledgement
that he was serving a superior.

"Baby," I moaned, bring him over here so I can see you fuck him.  I want to
see your gorgeous meat ramming in and out of that slutty hole – up
close. I want to see baby."  Grabbing him by the arm, like nothing more
than a rag doll, he pulled Michael to the bed, right next to me and Matt
and Reggie.  We slid over, making space, but it was a tight fit with all
four of us piled on that bed; Jomo stood at the end of the bed and stroked
his cock.  Everyone in the room moved closer, well, everyone who wasn't in
a chair or sofa, leaned up against a wall, or on one of the other beds
fucking.  The room was beginning to stink like hot sweaty bodies and sex
and we hadn't even started yet.  To me, it just showed how unsophisticated
and savage most people really were.  They were driven by their lust,
aroused by the slightest of stimulation.  I, on the other hand, could
control my desires.  I enjoyed the wait.  Prolonging the pleasure was a
sign that I could not and would not be a slave to my hormones.

Michael was on his knees, his face down on the bed, his ass high in the
air.  His face was inches from my own.  Without taking my eyes off his, I
said, "FUCK HIM!"

Jomo took aim.  He held the fat head of his dick to Michael's hole.  He
spit on it, stretching the opening with his thumbs, prying it obscenely
open so his saliva dripped in his already gaping hole.  That was the only
lube he was going to get.  He didn't need it, his hole was so used to being
ravaged, so fucking slutty, so used to getting fucked with huge dildos and
toys that even Jomo's enormous dick wouldn't faze him.  The one thing that
his toys couldn't do was pound him with the ferocity, force, and relentless
intensity that only a real Black man could.

"AHHHHHHH, oh yessss."  Climbing to his hands and knees so he could feel
the friction even more, so he could have that dick hit his magic spot,
Michael lowered his head and raised his ass, presenting his asshole like a
bullseye for target practice and Jomo was the expert marksman taking aim.
His moans spoke a language of their own.  He was communicating in grunts
and groans, speaking in tongues, vocalizing his profane and perverse
desires with his eyes, telling the story of his lustful desires.  "What are
you waiting for?  Use me like a dirty, white cum dump, with no regard for
me or my pleasure or pain.  Make me pay, pay for my white privilege, for
the vile treatment of your ancestors, fuck me like the sissy faggot I need
to be, nothing but a hole for your to dump your superior sperm.  I need
that big, black dick pounding me, fucking me, using me.  You're a real man.
Make me your white cunt bitch. FUCK ME."

Speed, power, and precision are what make for a great fuck.  Jomo possessed
all of those things plus a dick with the length and girth to make even the
most seasoned bitchboi cry.  Michael indeed looked like he was going to
cry, but his tears were tears of joy.  He was being impaled by an
extraordinary Black cock, on display for everyone to see his sluttish
nature, and it was all being orchestrated by the Black Bitch of his dreams.
It was the stuff submissive white boys lived for, dreamed of, craved.  Jomo
built up a steady, pounding rhythm; never backing off, not caring if he was
causing discomfort or pain.  His fierce fuck was jarring Michael's teeth
and causing the bed to bump against the wall.  I whispered for Reggie and
Matt to start warming up for their turns and the crowd watched in shock,
awe, and arousal.  I slid out of the way and allowed the fellas to take
their positions for the main event.

A gorgeous sheen of perspiration glowed on Jomo's skin as he worked out his
frustration and lust on Michael's battered hole.  Matt knelt on the bed and
force fed his cock into Michael's mouth, insuring that he was getting fed
dick from both ends, that he was going to get cum in his belly and his
bowels simultaneously.  He gagged and moaned on that beautiful cock,
glancing at me for approval and acknowledgement.  I smiled.  Matt grabbed
him by the head and forcefully skull fucked him as I leaned in closely and
whispered, "Make me proud, show me what a nasty slut you really are."

With those few words, it was as if all of Michael's antics and actions up
until that point had been foreplay.  He grabbed Matt's cock long enough to
hold it and turn his head to moan, "FUCK ME HARDER.  DAMN YOU!  Ram that
hot, black pole in my white, slutty hole."  Precum was literally dripping
from Michael's cock like a faucet.  He was thrusting his ass back; the
epitome of a hot fuck.  He dove for Matt's cock again, swallowing it whole;
spit dripping from the corners of his mouth as he moaned around every
beautiful, black inch of it.  The cock in his mouth was so long, so hard,
that it was literally being shoved two or three inches down his throat.

I positioned myself so that he could see me playing with my hot, wet, pussy
but so as not to interfere with the hot action.  A white woman came up to
me and started licking my pussy without even so much as an introduction let
alone my permission.  She appeared to be in a daze.  I don't think she was
as aroused by watching all the gay fucking as she was jealous that she
wasn't being the gangbang whore that Michael was.  It was all speculation
of course because she had her face buried in my wet snatch and I was
grinding my pussy on her face, using her to get off because I was
outrageously aroused by the scene before me.  Michael possessed a hunger, a
ravenous need that most subs didn't even understand, let alone were they
capable of achieving.  I could tell Jomo was on the verge of orgasm because
he was pounding harder, moaning loader.  I timed my orgasm to match his as
he pumped his creamy sperm in Michael and I squirted my juices into the 50
something brunette who was fingering her pussy while licking me.

Jomo came.  His orgasm was powerful and he deposited his seed deep inside
Michael's guts.  Withdrawing his satiated dick, he grabbed Michael by the
hair and spun him around, not caring that he was denying Matt the pleasure
of his blowjob.  He placed his cock, fresh from a hot, sweaty, shithole on
Michael's lips.  He inhaled the aroma deeply.  That cock stunk of spunk and
ass juice.  It wasn't exactly apparent to me if there were streaks of shit
on it but I assumed there were given that the fuck had been so savage and
deep.  It didn't seem to matter if there were slight streaks or if it was
completely covered in filth, Michael devoured it hungrily.  In fact, his
oral assault was a bit too aggressive and Jomo pushed him down and
staggered away, literally drained after such a vigorous fuck.  Undaunted,
Michael screamed for more.

Matt, warmed up and ready, lay down on the bed.  "Climb on this stick,
whitey.  Ride me, bitch."  Michael straddled Matt, placing his legs on the
outside of his strong, muscular thighs and his hands on Matt's perfectly
sculpted chest.  He lowered his asshole, now dripping with cum, sore, and
gaping open, down onto Matt's African spear.  Pain was an aphrodisiac at
that point and he loved the feeling of that black meat piercing his, raw,
abused hole.  He bounced up and down, furiously, fucking himself on Matt's
cock.  Looking down, he could see the impression of Matt's cock in his
stomach.  Something about that fact made him feel that much nastier.
Throughout the evening, he hadn't even touched his own cock but the pool of
dick snot that collected on Matt's stomach was no indication of that.  He
was producing a steady stream of clear precum and his ass was . . . it was
wet, actually wet like a woman's pussy.

Not to be left out and ready to get in on the action, Reggie came up from
behind, pushed Michael down and lined up the head of his dick next to
Matt's.  Michael's face was a mere inches from Matt's face.  In that
moment, he wanted to be kissed; he wanted to be the ultimate faggot.  He
could feel Matt's breath on him, their chests were pressed together.
Reggie saw an opportunity, looked at me for my approval and I simply
mouthed the words, "Go for it."

He climbed on the bed between Matt's and Michael's legs and took careful
aim.  He lined up his cock alongside Matt's and started pushing.  It was a
tight fit and completely unsuccessful at first.  It didn't seem like it was
going to work but it was Michael who insisted that he not give up.  He
begged, in a chant-like, hypnotic prayer, "Fill me up with those gorgeous
cocks.  Use that hole, abuse it, fuck me."  He kept saying it over and over
again.

Finally, after some serious effort, Reggie accomplished his mission.
Michael was impaled on not one but TWO beautiful, black cocks.  It was a
tight fit but it was actually Michael who wanted that fuck to be intense
and savage.  He started working his ass on them, wiggling, fucking them
back.  The smell of sweat and nasty ass sex filled the room.  I grabbed the
white woman's head and forced her to start licking my asshole, making her
drive it deep inside to satisfy my own anal desires.  My orgasm was seconds
away.  I was witnessing a white body sandwiched between two of the most
spectacular black bodies, it was a Black Domme's dream come true.  Michael
was insatiable.  He glanced at me and asked, "Are you proud of me?"

In that moment, I was outrageously proud.  He was the voracious slut that I
had longed to own, to use, to control his desires.  "Yes, sweetie, I'm
incredibly proud of you," I said.

With those words, his eyes glazed over with tears and lust.  He was sobbing
and moaning, drooling and chanting, "Fuck, fuuuuck, FUCK!"  Reggie was the
first to unload, pile-driving deep and hard, depositing the second load of
cum up that nasty fuck hole.  Matt was last.  He began pistoning in and out
at a machine-like speed.  Cum from Jomo and Reggie frothed out of Michael's
asshole, dripped down Matt's cock, covering his balls, creating a wet,
nasty sound as he neared his nut.  Michael met each thrust, worked his
pussy like a cheap whore.  I was grinding my pussy and ass on the white
woman's mouth, nearing my own explosion.  I grabbed a handful of her brown
hair and held tight as I unloaded my cream in her mouth and Matt deposited
the third load of the night in Michael's cunt.

That was the evening that Michael became my possession.  Even with his
asshole gaped and prolapsed, with multiple loads of cum dripping obscenely
from it, he wanted more.  He didn't want or need to cum; all he wanted was
to get his pussy and throat pounded, to eat hot loads of jizz.  That was
his satisfaction.  He begged and pleaded for more cocks but he was not to
get them that evening.  Eventually, he's come to perform for larger crowds
with more men but he's never been satisfied.  He's never gotten enough
cock, enough cum, enough abuse and I've never gotten enough of seeing him
perform for me like my perfect pet.

Copyright 2011 AfroerotiK All Rights Reserved