White Male Submission

It is time to explore this subject again.  Attention needs to be drawn to this as it is rampant and pervasive and it's indicative of a mental illness en masse.  This was written about 10 years ago.  I will post the follow up that I wrote about two years ago.  With the proliferation of white cops slaughtering Black men in the streets, arresting them for nothing more than being black, I will not let their pathology go unchecked.  

One can’t pick up a magazine or listen to a discussion about the black community these days without reading about “DL brothas”, or black men that have sex with other men while representing themselves as heterosexual.  There is a homoparanoia and fear that is largely media driven that is telling black women that they need to question every black man they meet because he might be having sex with other men.  Certainly, one has to believe that black men must be driven by their desires more than any other portion of the population because this “DL” trend is so rampant among black men, according to every single, solitary book, article, and discussion prevalent today. 

I have the unique opportunity to be in a position where people come to me and tell me their fantasies as a function of my career.  There is a HUGE and very stealth underground sexual movement that is growing that has escaped any mainstream examination whatsoever.  While black men’s sexual practices have been put under a microscope and they have been demonized in the media as sexually irresponsible and morally bankrupt latent “faggots,” white men have been able to slip under the radar, with stealth efficacy, with their sexual secrets. The numbers of white men that come to me and tell me that they have fantasies of being sexually submissive, not only to black women, but also to black men, is STAGGERING.  Literally, thousands of white men have approached me in the last several years, all reiterating very much the same themes in their desires, that they believe that white people are inferior, that they want to pay for the atrocities of slavery by their sexual servitude to black people, that black people are more beautiful.

There are common themes and consistencies in their fantasies and the types of white male submissive men can be grouped into three main categories: white men that want white female partners to engage in interracial sex, white men that want black female partners and white men that want domination by both black men and black women.  The first group of men, the men that want their white wives or girlfriends to engage in interracial sex, are known as cuckolds.   Cuckolds are men that get arousal from having a white wife, commonly referred to as a “slut wife,” that has multiple black lovers. The husband is forced to live a life of sexual denial and servitude while the wife has sex with these so called “superior black bulls.”  Servitude can include anything from getting the wife ready for her lover to cleaning her orally after her lover has ejaculated inside her, to orally or anally servicing the black lover himself. Many times, the sexual component is heightened if there is some level of implied “extortion” or money demanded of the white submissive male to perform theses homoerotic acts.  I’ve had innumerous white men tell me that they want their wives to be “black bred”, meaning impregnated by a black man and they are sexually aroused by the idea of their wives forcing them to raise a biracial child as their own.  There’s little doubt that the origins of these fantasies are steeped in the mythical “Big Black Mandingo” stereotype as they profess love for his abnormally large penis while begging to be taunted and humiliated for their comparatively small endowment.  Sexual submission is usually limited to the bedroom for these men because they seem to be able to compartmentalize the fact that they are only inferior because of their perceived, small penis and, on occasion, express angst that they have fantasies of seeing the black man as superior, even if it is only in a sexual situation. 

The second category of white male submissive is the men that hold black women in the highest esteem.  These men love and desire the black woman far more than white woman and very often admire the natural features of black women that have long been rejected by society at large.   Big butts, dark skin, full lips, natural hair, and sassy and domineering attitudes are the attributes that they most readily describe as the epitome of beauty, black or otherwise. The  number of occasions when white men have said they want a black wife to pamper and provide for, to put her on a pedestal as the true mother of all civilization, are too numerous to mention.  Many times, they reiterate the same sorts of fantasies of the cuckold husband: they want her to have a black lover, but more often than not, they describe feelings of inadequacy because they believe they are unable to satisfy or undeserving of having sex with a black woman. They describe fantasies whereby they are forced by a black woman to engage homosexual acts as an act of punishment or for her amusement. They reiterate they same sorts of fantasies about cleaning Black  woman of ejaculate deposited by her lover, being denied orgasm, being “forced” to humble themselves before the black man to show their  unworthiness and inferior status.  The instances of white men telling me that they want to serve as human toilet to black women are so commonplace, so frequent, I don’t blink an eye any longer when the topic is broached. These men describe how it would be an honor to receive the waste of a black woman and how it is their duty as a white male to do so.  Many desire to be subjected to perform household duties for black women, seemingly with no sexual gratification in return, only the desire to be humiliated for their whiteness.  Most desire to form lifelong, loving relationships with Black women as adoring pets or servants and most refer to themselves as slaves. 

The third category of white male submissive is interested whatever forms of degradation they can receive from whatever Black source that sees fit to dish it out.  They are unashamedly bisexual and, in many cases, prefer to perform sexual acts with black men.  Among this group are the most masochistic of the population.  They are constantly asking for approval and validation that they truly are inferior to black people.  They confess that they want to become slaves, stripped of their rights as a human, that they want to pay for the sins of any white person that owned slaves, and that they want to be degraded and humiliated for their whiteness. Their fantasies are extreme, many expressing desires to be lynched and beaten reminiscent of true slavery as part of their sexual fantasies.  Many tell me that they desire to become black and have romantic notions that they will become well-endowed athletes or big-bosomed matriarchal archetypes.  Several have requested books to read to tell them of a more accurate Black history than the limited exposure they’ve received.  I’ve had white men tell me that they go out of their way to hire black people, support black businesses, or provide daily acts of kindness to black people as their own personal form of reparations. 

These examples are the norm not the extreme and I’m confronted with these examples on a daily basis.  It should be noted that almost 100% of the time, white men use the singular adjective black to describe the collective of people rather than as a descriptor.  i.e. “I want my wife to fuck black, I am attracted to black, I am a slave for black” rather than the proper usage, “I am attracted to black women, I want my wife to fuck black men, I desire to be submissive to black people.”  Their grammatical objectification of us is but a minor indication that they have yet to shatter the racist beliefs that they claim so boldly to have done.

If there is any level of validity in my findings, my observations lead me to believe that there is no concurrent movement by black people whereby we, on any sort of collective basis, are expressing desires to make white people pay for the atrocities of slavery or to restore a Black supremist racial hierarchy and to do so by the sexual subjugation of white people.  We seem to be naively playing into the role of dominatrix and Black bull and walking away from the experience and not being particularly braggadocios about them either. Those few African American individuals that have confided in me of experiences with submissive white men seem to take pity on them that they are so warped in their thinking that they could actually believe that black people could be superior.  In my amateur anthropological opinion, these black people feel guilty for holding a position of power over white men, even if it’s only sexually and for brief periods of time.  I’ve yet to meet the black person that has engaged in a sexual liaison with a submissive white man that has truly recognized the larger political implications.  Many black women have seen this as an opportunity to capitalize on their “most coveted object” status and made attempts to use white men for money, which seem to backfire more often than not according to their tales. While very few black men confide in me about their experiences with submissive white men, (and one can only assume from the reports of white men that the numbers of black men that are engaging in these behaviors are equally as staggering) I can only assume that they feel some sort of temporary reprieve from the stresses and strains of a racist society while engaged in the act, and as they go on about their daily lives, they replace their societally-imposed veil of powerlessness, never recognizing that their true power does not lie in their penis. Black people, still largely ignorant of our own past, the origins of African greatness, and still largely brainwashed to believe that white people are better, are sadly, too uninformed to  assert that they will not be made pawns in a sexual game to rid white people of their guilt or fulfill their dark continent lust.

There are a multitude of larger implications that are happening beneath this absolutely HUGE movement that need to be discussed and simply can’t be unless the topic is put on the table so that society at large can examine the trend and not have it kept as white America’s dirty little secret.  First and foremost, these men are still, for the most part, holding onto racist, stereotypical and degrading beliefs about Black people while they are insisting that their desire to submit to black people indicates that they are free from all such beliefs.  They assume that because they are sexually attracted to Black people that automatically means they are not racist.  Many white men claim they used to harbor racist beliefs and some sexual event with a black person cured them of their racism, which is obviously an absurd assumption.  If these white men are in fact engaging in sexual acts with black men as they claim, then the source and spread of HIV in the Black community needs to be examined.  These white men should be spreading the virus to their partners in equal proportions to black men. 

I imagine that there are scores of therapists, counselors, sex workers, medical practitioners and journalists in this country that have the same knowledge as I.  Why aren’t there medical journals and articles that are discussing this trend and the psychological implications?  Where are the 20/20 and Dateline exposes, where are the radio talk shows that are discussing this phenomenon, why isn’t every magazine warning white women about the potential hazards of white men that are engaging in unsafe sex with black men?  Given the current political climate in this country, with this move to the ultra-moral, ultra-conservative right, what conclusions can one draw about this population of white men that have this race-driven guilty, envy, and lust?  Are there white men that are secretly harboring these sexual desires in positions of power and exacting stricter punishments on black men to assuage them of their desires to “submit to black?” 

Race in America is still and extremely volatile topic.  If there are, as I’ve experienced, multitudes of white men that are having these types of fantasies and desires, there needs to be an open and honest discussion in a public forum to determine the origins, the implications, and to form support groups and allegiances to address the very important issues that these types of issues bring to the table.  White men are begging, even if it is only privately, to be immersed in a black sexual experience, and they are being led by individuals that don’t have the ability to train, instruct and accurately inform.  This issue can not be swept under the table because it upsets the equilibrium of the status quo.  White men are desiring to be submissive to Black people in phenomenal numbers and the reasons why and the social implications thereof must be discussed. 

Copyright 2004 Scottie Lowe

CEO and   Founder of AfroerotiK

Compartmentalizing

Morality and integrity, really and truly, are figments of my imagination.  They don’t exist.  Everyone has a need to lie, to cheat, everyone has a need to seek out the taboo and the forbidden.  Everyone has a desire, a very much socialized, driving, obsessive imperative, to portray themselves as righteous and without flaw which creates in them a secret drive to behave in ways that are exactly the opposite of what they portray in public.  It creates dysfunction, a mental disconnect.  This need to deny your sexuality in public and pretend to be asexual creates mental illness; it creates people driven by deviance, and it creates a world of liars, cheaters, adulterers who have absolutely no problem condemning and shaming people who get caught doing the exact same behaviors that they possess.  People don’t have a need or drive to do what’s right, we set up people in childhood by teaching them that the names for their privates are bad, we perpetuate the social disorder by calling natural, healthy sexuality “freaky”.  And we display the mental disorder every time we publically shame someone for expressing their sexuality when we have done the same or worse ourselves. 

Are lying and cheating and this compulsive need to behave in ways that are antithetical to what is right, just and good inherent in human beings?  I don’t believe they are.  I think that the social architects, the individuals who DECIDED to convince people that sex and sexuality was bad and wrong engineered this paradigm.  The leaders who set out to control the masses knew on some intrinsic level that once they convinced the world’s population that sex was bad and shameful, that they could control them because the need to have sex in inherent in human beings.  What I don’t think they could have anticipated or predicted is how detrimental it would be to humanity.  I don’t think they could have ever foreseen how perverted and dysfunctional people would become in their need to hide their sexuality. 

The need to deny one’s sexuality, to compartmentalize it and to pretend to be chaste and pure has created pathological liars and people disconnected from reality.   I’ve seen the evidence of this all around me.  I’ve seen it in my mother who had an affair with her current husband for more than a decade, who now, BELIEVES in her heart that she didn’t start dating him until after he was married.  I’ve seen her ridicule and shame other women for the EXACT same things she’s done without even the faintest hint of irnoy.  I’ve seen her alienate and ostracize people from her life who know her secret, not because she consciously is self-aware enough to recognize her behaviors but because she’s so warped and deluded that she needs to pretend she’s saintly and holy and could never do anything that was immoral and her subconscious mind needs to create a world where her reality fits her delusions.  I’ve seen married spouses who cheat and lie get offended when their spouse does the same thing, only difference being they never got caught.  I’ve seen the same people who tell me how offensive and pornographic my website is behave in ways that are exponentially more dysfunctional behind closed doors than anything that could be found on AfroerotiK.  I’ve seen the evidence in my disgusting ex boyfriend who actually believes that his juvenile sexual techniques are so superior that he is able to entice married women to behave in ways that are contrary to their own, supposedly asexual natures.  Only problem is, no one is asexual.  He’s not enticing anyone with his very little dick and his substandard sexual skills.  He’s only boosting his ego by convincing himself that women would never be sexual without his ability to become whoever and whatever his latest conquests want him to be (those skills, I can testify, are exceptional).     I’ve seen the evidence on a daily basis of white men who beg me to do things to them that are so extreme and so deviant yet they walk around and pretend to be the pillars of morality and asexuality in public. 

Discomfort with one’s sexuality creates a mental disconnect, mental illness in fact.  People justify whatever behaviors they have, no matter how unhealthy they are, and then they find a nice little place to hide them away and pretend that they don’t exist.  Look at the Catholic Church.  How much more obvious could it bebthat sexuality is natural and when one shuts off their sexuality, when one denies that their sexuality exists, it manifests itself in pathological behaviors?  It’s the genesis of down low men and women (and TRUST me that there are just as many women lying about their bisexuality as men), it’s the origin of people going out and having unprotected sex without thought for pregnancy or disease.  It’s the reason that my PR agent was convinced beyond a shadow of a doubt that the public wasn’t ready to deal with beautiful, tasteful, sensual images on my website when everyone, absolutely everyone is a sexual being and is looking for sexual stimulation.  She couldn’t wrap her head around the concept that everyone was sexual and committed to hiding it.  She would rather believe, like society has masterfully convinced us, that people are asexual, that no one has sexual desires, that sex is shameful and bad and dirty and that I was somehow going against the grain with my bold declaration that sex is beautiful, natural, and that everyone is sexual.  She believes in her head that only a few deviant, fringe people like sex and that everyone else is offended by the mere mention of the word.  And that’s true to a certain extent.  People do pretend to be offended at the mere mention of the word.  They are also the same people who have bookmarks to some of the most degrading sex sites on the net on their computers.  That mental disconnect is how people who cheat on their spouses can write books on how to get a man or how to be a good spouse without any mental conflict.  They have shut off the part of their brain that allows them to have guilt or shame about their actions.  They have been able to compartmentalize so much so that they don’t even recognize their own detrimental behaviors. 

I am comfortable with my sexuality.  I’m not ashamed of my desires.  I don’t have a need or drive to cheat, to lie, to be with anyone’s husband.  I would rather end the relationship with someone if I’m not happy rather than get to a point where I’m motivated to cheat on them.  I don’t have a need to sell my body to the highest bidder.  I don’t think I’m more valuable if a man with money wants me.  I have unparalleled integrity and I’m not driven to go out and have casual, unprotected sex with strangers because I get horny and don’t know how to stop when things get heated.  I have either released or I have had the good fortune to never possess the dysfunction of the masses.    I never really understood how different I was. 

I sort of feel stupid for not recognizing the facts when the evidence was all around me.  You know who figured it out?  Zane, who writes about cheating and immorality and eroticizes it and people eat it up.  You know why?  Because they not only crave seeing characters act out in ways similar to how behave in private, it’s erotic to them, it adds a thrill for them to do things that are just outside of moral.  The more illicit their behavior behind closed doors, the better.  You know who else figured it out long before me and capitalized on it?  Shonda what’s her name.  It’s a turn on for women to feel like a man who shouldn’t want them openly does.  We’re told that when a couple gets married, that the desire to be with anyone else goes away.  So if a man who is married tells us he loves us, no matter how unhealthy, dysfunctional and morally wrong it is, that represents an extra special thrill to us.  It’s a dangerous metaphor.  Women who have been cheated on liking Scandal is equivalent to a woman who has been raped cheering for the rapist on Law & Order SVU.  But, I’m sure even that happens in the privacy of people’s homes because we are so sexually unhealthy as a nation that we don’t have a concept of what healthy sexuality is.  And, the truth of the matter is, we aren’t going to get healthy any time soon.  

Copyright 2013 Scottie Lowe

He Holds the Key to my Arousal in his Hands

Is it possible to be in love with a man for his hands? Well, I’m not in love with him FOR his hands, he’s an amazing man without question but I’m definitely in love with his hands. I can’t explain it. His hands actually turn me on. The shape of his hands, the length of his fingers, even the way he holds his fork drives me to distraction. I think I love his hands more than I love his dick. Okay, let me not go off the deep end, it ain’t that extreme, but his hands give me a special thrill that I just can’t explain.

I love watching him masturbate. It’s like sensory overload. Seeing him stroke the length of his dick, his fingers gripping it tightly, seeing the cum flowing over his fingers thrills me in a way that words can’t describe. I can suck his fingers or his dick and both arouse me beyond belief. One Sunday morning he brought me breakfast in bed. He thought he was being cute by dipping his finger in the honey and putting it in my tea. I grabbed his finger and started licking and sucking every bit of that honey. We had to go to IKEA and buy a new headboard that afternoon because things got so heated after that.

Who knew that hands could be a sex organ? The first time we kissed, he held my face gently in his hands and I felt my heart skip a beat. When I’m riding him, and his hands grip my hips, for a brief second, all my attention is focused on the feel of his hands on my flesh. We walk in the park and he’ll reach out to hold my hand . . . and I feel safe, protected, and secure in the connection.

His hands represent strength to me; the centuries of labor our ancestors endured building this nation that hates us so. His hands represent tenderness to me; his gentle nature is reflected in the movement of his artistic hands. I’m mesmerized when he wears his ring; it reminds me of a sunset over a beautiful horizon.

His hands pleasure me in ways that defy definition. When my body is warm and relaxed after a bath, he’ll anoint my body with oils and massage me to sleep. Well, his intention is to massage me to sleep but feeling his hands slide sensually up and down my body, caressing my sore spots and stimulating my hot ones . . . who can sleep?


We went out for drinks the other night, enjoying a few Afrotini’s and a little jazz. He pulled my chair close and whispered in my ear that he wanted me to spread my legs. My heart started pounding out of my chest. I felt the heat of his hands on my thigh as he moved up my leg, sliding my panties to the side. There, in the middle of a very public place, he took his finger and started rubbing my clit, causing me to signal for the waiter to bring the check and get the hell outta there. He had other plans. I grabbed the edge of the table and held on tightly as his fingers penetrated me, making me bite my lower lip to keep silent. Tease that he was, he stopped, leaving me desperate to cum. He ordered dessert and would wipe his sexy mouth with his cloth napkin, which was really nothing more than his discrete way of smelling my pussy juices on his fingers, inhaling my fragrance. Of all the things that I love about this man, it’s his hands that hold the key to my arousal. I know he was made for me, I for him, because even his hands fit me.

Copyright 2006 AfroerotiK

The Proposition of a Lifetime

The beauty of the D/s world is that it pushes both Domme and sub to explore their limits, to see just how far they could go. Because I’m a Domme and quite comfortable with myself and my identity as such, it’s easy for me to embrace new opportunities, to see how I might be able to taste new experiences and challenge myself to go further because I know my core, I know the center to which I will return if things don’t work out, is solid.

You don’t have that luxury. Your identity as a sub is still unstable; you are still uncomfortable in your own submissive skin. You are not comfortable with the concept that a real man is strong and dominant and that if you willingly and consciously choose to be submissive, you are not deserving of the honor of being called a man. You are not what you’ve been socialized to be; and giving up that concept can be pretty scary when faced with the reality. You aren’t a man. You aren’t assertive, aggressive, or domineering, you don’t have it in you. You pretend to be in control, you play the role, but inside, you know the truth. You come with the equipment of a man yet you do not possess the inherent strength and character to be a real man. You aren’t a woman for a woman is to be revered and honored. A real woman is holy and sacred and beautiful. You are “other”. You are a lowly submissive swine. You are something to be despised, used, mistreated, and abused. You are something whose very existence is an anomaly. You are ashamed of your penis, it’s small size, and of its inability to simultaneously deliver pain and pleasure the way a real man can.

If you were to belong to me, to be my possession and my pet, imagine the possibilities. Imagine if I were to control your desires, your cravings, to transform you into the depraved, perverted, filthy, vile thing of your dreams, to allow you the opportunity to express and live your most warped fantasies. What would your life be like if I owned you like an object, if I had control of your soul? What if you knew you had the honor of belonging to me in a way that no one else could? Imagine being loved by me and despised by me at the same time. Imagine for a brief moment that your entire world revolves around your worship of me and my ability to release you from the confines of being a man and becoming a dirty, insatiable, whore whose only limits are defined by me.

If you were to sign your life over to me, to relinquish your rights as a human being and become my possession, your life would be forever altered. Let’s not pretend here that we are talking about slavery for this would be completely voluntary on your part. You could continue to go through your daily activities, appearing normal to your co-workers and the hoards of nameless strangers you encounter, but your soul would belong to me. Your every waking thought would be filled with images of me, of how I know your kinkiest fantasies and desires and my willingness and ability to make those dreams reality. Our synergy, our balance comes from my desire to see you debased and humiliated in ways that would make most people’s stomachs turn, that would shock and horrify even the most dark and disturbed minds. You long to have no limits, you long to be transformed into a sub-human sexual, feral animal and you know that I can take you there.

Your very body, mind and soul would belong to me. I would take possession of your nipples, torturing and twisting them until you screamed out in pain. The searing ache of having your tits pierced and weighted for my amusement would register in your brain as pleasure. In our world, pain would become your bliss, your state of euphoria. I would deliver crushing blows to your useless nuts, that I would derive enjoyment from seeing you doubled over, on the verge of consciousness, your pain connecting us as lovers, however non-traditionally defined that may be. It would all be worth it I’m sure. You would endure tremendous pain to be able to feel my warm breath whispering in your ear, telling you that you were a good boy, that you made me proud. Your reward would be my soft hand, wrapped around your throat, choking you, my spit dripping from your face, depriving you of air and toying with your life. What a strange sensation that would be, to have your cock throbbing and hard while you feel yourself passing out, while your mind struggles to stay alive but you surrender your will to me, knowing that I will not let you die. Your fight or flight reflex completely abated in deference to the ecstasy you derive from knowing that your life is literally in my hands. Will you beg and plead for more while I reign down blow after stinging blow on your ass with my whip, making your flesh searing hot from the pain? What sort of thing experiences delight from having their faced slapped, feels arousal when their mouth filled with my slimy green snot and phlegm, gets hard from eating their own puke after being forcefully face fucked and gagged? Certainly not a human being, and certainly not a man.

Your pussy would be in a constant state of arousal under my control and direction. Giving up the pretense of being a man would allow you to accept that your cunt is insatiable and slutty, the center of your sexual being, your source for stimulation. Kept in constant chastity, the only time you would be allowed to orgasm would be through stimulation of your prostate. How many months do you think it would take for you to be able to accomplish that, your nuts swollen, tender, and sore, desperate for release. I’d have to completely re-wire your brain until your asshole got swollen and wet like a real pussy when you were aroused, until you lived to feel your hole stuffed with the hard, pounding cocks of real men. You’d have no choice but to give up the pretense of only wanting dildos and strapons in your fuck hole. Released and free to be who you are meant to be, you’d have to acknowledge that your cravings for real, hot, hard, thick, long dicks pounding you is real and undeniable. Being a cum whore is your natural state of being and it would be up to me to protect you as my pet and possession from harm or disease. It would be at my discretion to provide you with your source of men who will satiate your thirst for cum in your mouth and pussy. Needing to please me, however, knowing I derive pleasure from seeing you used and fucked like a cheap slut, you would never get enough. The minute one filthy dick would be pulled from your gaping, used hole, you would be screaming for another to replace it, knowing that seeing you get fucked makes my real pussy wet and swollen with arousal.

To earn the honor of being allowed to pleasure my body must be an intimidating and scary thought. I have to think that you would count the days until I get my period, knowing that your mouth will be my pad, your tongue my tampon, tasting my blood, treasuring it, licking the soft, wet folds of my pussy and longing for the sweet release of my cum in the process. Oh the torture of having your mouth so near my divine center, tasting my hot, salty piss, never knowing if I’m going to gift you with the opportunity to have my pussy lowered to your face, smothering you, suffocating you with the sweetness of my pussy, feeling the full weight of my body on your face, smelling the musky scent of my ass. On those special and rare occasions when I am pleasured by a real man, to know that you will be able to service me by licking my pussy and asshole clean, to feel my explosive cum flavored farts, tinged with flecks of feces, after my body has been satisfied and pleasured will surely be a privilege. Tasting the mixture of cum and sweat from REAL love making, knowing that you will never again in life, as long as you belong to me, feel the sensation of penetrating a woman again. Feeling my hardened black nipples in your mouth as you suckle them while you call me Mommy and know that I am your primary care giver and owner must be a delight incomprehensible to your feeble mind.

Belonging to me, being my possession, praying at the altar of my asshole would mean that my shit would become your sacrament, your holy communion. You long to feel that connection, that intimacy, that gift of servitude and submission, the ultimate act of degradation. Only you don’t see it as humiliating, do you? You see it as your gift to me, our connection and bond cemented by the fact that you CRAVE my shit in your mouth, in your body, as symbolic of your life being mine. You are shit. You are nothing more than a worthless, pathetic piece of shit and having my shit in you makes you somehow more worthy, more validated. Your arousal is perversely tied to my shit. On your hands and knees, getting savagely fucked by my strapon, with your head in the toilet filled with my foul-smelling turds, you can only breathe in their toxic fumes and feel pangs of jealousy and envy that you were not allowed to be my toilet, crying out in pleasure as you feel me pound your asshole and you can see the contents of my bowels mere inches from your face, intoxicated by the stench, salivating and distraught at the sight of my brown gifts being flushed away.

Know, dear one, that if you did belong to me, I would treat you as my perverted little plaything with great pleasure. Your little clit would get hard every time I told you that I was going to prepare you to get fucked, bending you over and filling you colon with water, only to have you go outside and evacuate your intestines in the backyard like some sort of animal. Sliding that nozzle in, filling you with water, caressing your balls gently while I tell you what a nasty piece of trash you are, making you moan in pleasure as I allow the water to fill you to capacity, the cramps blinding you with pain and discomfort, the pleasure unspeakable as you release the disgusting contents of your rectum, shit splattering all down your legs, your face in my hands as I tell you how wet it makes my pussy to see you do something so foul and degrading for me.

Transformed, your entire being would be meant to ensure that I was as pampered, catered to, and indulged with any and every nicety life has to offer. Truly living to serve me, laying at my feet, fulfilling my every whim, wish, and desire. Every chore, every errand and task, you would complete with joy, knowing it might make me happy, that it might bring a smile to my face. Your role as the breadwinner and primary provider for our little “family” would be to give all of your earnings and savings over to me. I would make the financial decisions, choosing which investments would be most fruitful and provide me with the most benefit. Your allowance would be minimal at best, allowing you to exist but certainly not experience luxuries. Your wallet is tied to your manhood, and being less than a man, you would gladly hand over your credit, your cash flow, and your potential earnings so that I might be your queen. You will pay me to own you, to allow you to be the nasty, putrid, degenerate you long to be, that lurks under the surface of your mediocre existence now, desperate to be set free.

For me, my ultimate arousal will be in seeing your uncontrollable tears as I threaten to release you from my control, to send you back out into the world, un-collared and un-owned, to fend for yourself. Your tortured pleas, desperate and pathetic, begging me to keep you, use you, degrade and humiliate you in ways beyond anything you’ve already endured will be sweet music to my ears. I might just tease you with empty threats to see how far you would go for me or I might make good on my word and dispose of you like used toilet paper. I get aroused at the idea of seeing another submissive brought in, paraded in front of you, your replacement, so that you can suffer the insecurity and low self-esteem of knowing that another will be gifted with the opportunity to perform for me. My twisted and perverse pleasure comes from knowing that I could make you so depressed, so despondent at the thought of being cast aside, that you would be reduced to a whimpering, whining, shell of a human being. Knowing that I have that much control over another person makes my fucking pussy unbelievably wet.

In public, you would be my companion and friend, behind closed doors, you would assume your true role as my servant, slut, and plaything. You don’t think you are deserving of belonging to me. You are afraid that you will have to completely redefine yourself and your worldview if you were to belong to me. It terrifies you more to think of what might be than to remain alone and unfulfilled, masturbating to fantasies that could become a reality if you were to only let yourself experience letting go of the pretense of being a real man.

Copyright 2009 AfroerotiK