Erotic provocateur, racially-influenced humanist, relentless champion for the oppressed, and facilitator for social change, Scottie Lowe is the brain child, creative genius and the blood, sweat, and tears behind AfroerotiK. Intended to be part academic, part educational, and part sensual, she, yes SHE gave birth to the website to provide people of African descent a place to escape the narrow-mined, stereotypical, limiting and oft-times degrading beliefs that abound about our sexuality. No, not all Black men are driven by lust by white flesh or to create babies and walk away. No, not all Black women are promiscuous welfare queens. And as hard as it may be to believe, no, not all gay Black men are feminine, down low, or HIV positive. Scottie is putting everything on the table to discuss, debate, and dismantle stereotypes in a healthy exchange of ideas. She hopes to provide a more holistic, informed, and enlightened discussion of Black sexuality and dreams of helping couples be more open, honest, and adventurous in their relationships.
Saturday, October 22, 2016
The following is the ending of a story I wrote for my book, In Loving Color, but I’ve decided to go with a much different story line, a much more hardcore one in fact, so this one is no longer needed. Even though it doesn’t have any of the story details and character development found in all my other stories, you pervs should still enjoy it.
Veronica opened the door and Evan almost lost his balance. She looked better than he could have even imagined. Her face was fully made-up; her eyes were smudged with a dark shadow, making them look smoky and mysterious. She wore a black halter-top and black mini skirt, not fetish wear, skimpy and sexy but sophisticated at the same time.
“Oh, I’m sorry, did I catch you at a bad time? You look like you’re ready to go on a date. I can come back some other time if you’re busy.” He was looking for any excuse to turn around and go back to his condo.
“Come in.” She stepped to the side and held the door open for him to enter. Evan felt like his legs were going to give out on him as he crossed the threshold. He heard the door close behind him and was paralyzed with fear. He had no idea what was going to happen. She could have just invited him over to say, “Look leave me alone,” but he didn’t care at that moment. All that mattered was the fact that he was there and there was the potential to plead his case, however small it may have been.
He sat quietly, taking in his surroundings. Her living room window faced the city, substantially more moving than his view of the parking lot of the Save-Right grocery store. Veronica’s view was nothing less than breathtaking and he sat hypnotized by the illuminated urban skyline, trying to distract himself from his fears. He fidgeted. A few minutes had passed and he shuffled his feet and twirled his thumbs in nervous anticipation.
Carrying two glasses of wine, Veronica strolled in casually, placing one glass before him and sipping from the other as she sat in the chair adjacent to him. “What are your limits?” She was direct and to the point.
“My limits? What do you mean?” Evan looked puzzled and immediately tried to back track as his mind raced for an answer that wouldn’t make him look like a total fool. He had to pull out whatever stops he could to make “this” happen. He wasn’t quite sure what the details of “this” were, but he was damn sure, well, reasonably sure, okay, almost sure that he wanted it. “Ohhh, you mean my limits? Right. Well, I’m not into kids or animals or anything like that, of course. You know, I believe the children are our future,” he said, trying to be funny.
Veronica didn’t crack a smile. “Is that so?” With that, she began rattling off a list of things that sounded so perverse, Evan didn’t know what half of them were, the others he could figure out and he didn’t like the sounds of them one bit.. “So, you are open to CBT, handballing, feltching, chemical play, golden showers, klismaphila . . .” It really might as well have been Charlie Brown’s teacher sitting there, mumbling in incoherent banter, because Evan didn’t grasp a word she was saying. She was testing him and Evan was failing miserably.
He cut her off. “Wait, are you saying that I’ll get a chance to . . . you know . . . serve you?” He chose his words carefully; he didn’t want her to think that he was only trying to play and he wanted to be sure that they were on the same page. Veronica pulled her legs underneath her and sat back in the chair. Evan didn’t wait for a response. He was in survival mode and he started pouring out his plea. “I don’t know what all those things are. I know you are more experienced than I am and I know I don’t deserve this opportunity. If you give me a chance, just one chance, I’ll show you that I can please you. Even if it means that I endure pain just for your pleasure. Let me serve you; let me be your plaything. I want you to take control of me; I want you to reduce me to nothing. I don’t know why but I feel like I owe it to you. I know you know more than me but if you just give me a chance I know that I can prove to you that . . . ”
Evan’s declaration of servitude froze on his lips. Veronica shifted in her seat and he could very clearly saw her pussy between her legs. She wasn’t wearing panties and she intentionally shifted to give him a view of heaven. It was as if he’d lost his train of thought and could only focus on the thing of beauty before him. His gaze remained there, transfixed, glassy-eyed, like a deer caught in the headlights. He swallowed hard and tried to find the words to continue but he couldn’t. Two months ago, he was a pompous ass, trying unsuccessfully to get laid. Today he was pleading his case to be allowed the pleasure of being submissive to an incredibly beautiful and mesmerizing woman. A woman like he’d never known before.
A wave of insecurity washed over him, he stood, downed his wine in one gulp, and got ready to make his exit. “I’m sorry. You’re obviously more experienced than I am and I don’t have a right taking up any more of your time. I’m sorry. I promise I won’t bother you any more.” He looked around for a second, getting his bearings, and turned towards the door. “I’ll let myself out. Have a good night.”
“Freeze!” There was no mistaking a direct order and Evan stopped in his tracks. He stood like a statue and heard her heels clicking on the hardwood floor behind him. He felt her presence, her body heat near him. He shut his eyes tightly; the alcohol was warming his insides, rushing to his head.
“Do you remember, Evan, that first day we met? Do you remember how obnoxious you were to me? Playing your offensive music and invading my privacy? What happened to him? What happened to that guy who got an attitude because I wouldn’t fulfill his fantasies? Where’d he go, Evan?” Hearing her speak his name made him feel weak. Sweat formed on his upper lip and he worried that his deodorant wouldn’t withstand the stress. He wanted to run but his feet were glued to that spot. “The entire reason you are here right now is because I was impressed by your email. It showed incredible change. In fact, it turned me on.”
Evan couldn’t believe what he was hearing. Without warning, he felt the buckle of his belt being unfastened. His first instinct was to push her hand away but he stood still, not wanting to move until he was instructed. Veronica pulled his belt free from its loops and circled him slowly, dragging it behind her. She undid the button on his pants and slowly lowered the zipper. His pants fell to his ankles and his heart skipped a beat. His cock didn’t miss a beat, however, and was as hard as it had ever been in his life. It was throbbing and pulsing and dripping with desire.
Reaching into his boxers, Veronica pulled his hard cock out and stroked him softly. He wasn’t anticipating such tender treatment; her touch was delicious, soft, mind-blowing even. He couldn’t control the guttural sounds of pleasure that escaped his lips as she jerked him off, try as he may. With one swift motion, she yanked his boxers down to mid thigh and inspected him like a piece of meat. Every millimeter of his penis was standing at attention. She went about her inspection casually, squeezing his cock and nuts. She took her finger, rubbed it across the head, and held it to his lips. Maintaining eye contact, she whispered, “Lick it.”
Evan instinctively began sucking and licking the precum from her finger. He was ravenous as she fucked his mouth with her digit. His enthusiasm was obvious and she yanked her hand away and left him standing there in a state of longing. Immediately feeling embarrassed he started to explain. “It’s not like what you are thinking. I was just trying to show my enthusiasm.” Shame consumed him. He’d been eating his own cum since he was a teen. He didn’t do it all the time, only when he was “in the zone.” That was the way he described it when he was so horny that nothing could satisfy him, when he craved stimulation. It was in those moments that he drink his own spunk, rationalizing that it was his so it wasn’t really gay or anything. He felt transparent, as if Veronica could read his mind, as if she knew all his dirty little secrets without him saying a word. Evan felt as if the was telepathically transmitting his depravity to her and he was desperately trying to send her false signals.
In some parallel universe, that might have worked. In this one, however, Veronica was manipulating his every move, two, three, and maybe even four steps ahead. Evan was out of his league. “Bend over, hands on your knees,” she said. Feeling degraded and proud at the same time, Evan leaned forward at the waist and let her continue her inspection. She pulled his shirt tail up and ran her soft hands over his ass. Evan would have given anything in that moment to have a big fat bubble butt like a black man. His was flat, pale, and pretty unspectacular in the scheme of things but he tried his best to stick it out, he wanted her to approve of him. He never thought feeling like an object could feel so liberating, so sexy. The irony of the role reversal wasn’t lost on him and his cock jumped even more. He wondered momentarily if she would look in his mouth like a horse as well.
Unceremoniously, Veronica spread his asscheeks and examined his hole, not touching it, just looking at it. Even was so humiliated he couldn’t speak. Then, without warning, he felt the first blow of his belt come crashing down on his ass. He cried out, not in pain, but more out of fear. He hadn’t expected things to go like this. What was going to happen? What was she going to do? He wanted to just stop things and call it off, say, “time out” and start over. The next blow landed with greater force and he knew deep in his soul that he couldn’t leave. He’d volunteered himself for her pleasure and there seemed to be a karmic debt he had to pay, so he endured in silence, muffling his cries of pain by biting his lower lip. The heat spread quickly across his ass, the pain grew more intense with each strike. At some point, reality shifted and the pain turned to pleasure.
Veronica punctuated each stinging blow with a question. “Do you want to stay, Evan? Do you like the kiss of pain, the sting of pleasure? You’ve waited a very long time to be here, haven’t you; you’ve waited a long time to submit to me. Is it everything that you’d thought it would be?” She played him like a violin, asking questions he could only answer in the affirmative, forever branding in his mind that the pain he was experiencing was tied to pleasure. Instinctively, he grabbed his cock and started stroking it. Veronica stopped the whipping and pressed her body against his, leaning in close. “Does that feel good, Evan, you like stroking your little cock?” The words “little cock” turned him on; it was embarrassing and oh so arousing.
“Oh, yes, Mistress, yes, it feels so good.” He’d never uttered the words mistress before in his life but it felt so natural rolling off his tongue. He was stroking himself to beat the band, pounding away, feeling her soft breasts pressed against his shoulder, smelling her sweet perfume, feeling the heat on his ass from his spanking. Even the word spanking seemed erotic, he had just gotten a spanking. He was ready to cum, to shoot his load all over the floor. He was prepared to lick it up if he had to, to show his submission. Just then, with her hand gently stroking his hair, Veronica said, “Evan, I didn’t give you permission to jerk off, did I? If you cum, I can assure you that not only will I make you pay for it, but you’ll never get the chance to play again.”
Evan panicked. He was going to cum, there was no holding back, he was on the verge. He stood up quickly, grabbed his cock, and squeezed with all his might. His body was convulsing and he was having an orgasm. He squeezed harder, crying out in anguish. He was in such excruciating pain but it was also a pleasure like he’d never known. He stumbled backwards, still gripping his cock tightly, terrified that if he let it go, his cum would leak out. He used the edge of the sofa for support and tried to regulate his breathing.
Veronica let him take his time. “Are you okay, Evan?” He was confused by her compassion but he welcomed it at the same time. He was expecting her to be cruel, to be irrational and demanding. Quite the contrary, she seemed genuinely empathetic. He looked at her with a puzzled look in her eyes and he did his best to communicate his fears to her non-verbally. He wasn’t as fluent as she was with this language and he questioned in his mind what was going to happen next.
“You were right, Evan, I was just about to go out when you came over. My girlfriend is on her way and she should be here any minute. Now, you are more than welcome to stay and . . . how shall we say it . . . entertain us, or your can call it a night and go home now. Now, if you stay, you’ll be subjected to more humiliation than your puny imagination can comprehend.
As if on cue, there was a knock at the door. Evan looked around, wanting to pull up his pants and run. There was no back door. Maybe he could make a flying leap off the balcony to his. A million thoughts ran through his mind as to how to get out of there but he didn’t listen to one of them. His throbbing cock dictated his actions and he stood erect, in more ways than one, while Veronica ushered in her guest. She actually made introductions, as inappropriate as they were. “Yvette, Evan. Evan, this is my friend Yvette. Isn’t she beautiful?” The two women shared an intimate kiss that was the stuff of fantasies, right in front of him.
He tried to remain as still as possible, blending in as it were, trying to camouflage himself off as if he were a piece of furniture. A piece of half naked furniture. A piece of half naked, completely aroused furniture, if there was such a thing. The ladies giggled like schoolgirls playing with a doll. “Ronnie, you are a trip. Girl, where do you get these white boys from?” The women, obviously not new to the experience, inspected him together, unbuttoning his shirt and caressing his muscles. Four hands fondled him while they talked like he wasn’t even there. “You remember that one that you made do all those brothas at that party, turned him into a sissy. What ever happened to him?”
“Hmmm, I can’t remember which one you are talking about. OHHHHHH, him,” the dawn of recognition in her voice. “I have no idea.” Evan swallowed hard, trying to drown out his terror from what he had just heard and the casual inference that Veronica had discarded so many guys like a pieces of trash once she had broken them completely that she could barely keep track of them.
Yvette was interested in taking advantage of the situation. “He’s not that cute but he does have a nice body. He’s truly not cut out for fucking. Can you make him eat my pussy?”
Confident and unfazed by the question, Veronica replied, “Girl, I can make him do anything you want, name it.” Evan’s arousal was tied to humiliation. He was turned on by the fact that didn’t have regard for his feelings, that they were not afraid to ridicule him, that they talked about him like he wasn’t even there. “Come on, let me show you the work I’ve done on my new playroom and you can have him use him any way you want.”
Veronica pulled him by his tie, using it like a leash, and the three were off to get into some hot and heavy action, Evan struggling to walk with his pants and underwear around his ankles. Veronica opened the door to a bedroom and his heart dropped. The room had been equipped with custom built furniture that was obviously intended for hardcore domination. The women laughed at his fear, pulled him in the room, and shut the door. “Don’t worry, Evan, I made sure the walls were soundproof so no nosey neighbors can hear.”
Veronica led him over to some sort of medical table and handcuffed him to it. The steel cut into his flesh, they were too tight but he dared not complain. The ladies finished undressing him, tossing his clothes and shoes in a pile on the floor. “Evan was a bad boy earlier, jerking off without permission, so we’ll have to make sure he can’t do that anymore. Bend over!” Her tone was still soft, but her intent was clear. Even put his face on the padded table and waited, exposed and vulnerable.
Veronica kicked his legs open and reached between him and felt up his crotch. She pulled his cock backwards, grabbed his balls. Some sort of leather strap was secured around his genitals and was surely intended to prevent him from cumming. He felt the softness of someone’s hands caressing his ass again, and then, without warning, a finger was invading his hole. He bit his lip and held back his moans. It was clear that lube was being applied to his hole. It was cool, the hands were soft, and the sensation was out of this world. He was squirming, enjoying it when he felt the head of a dildo being pushed in. He grabbed the table and held tight as the ass plug pushed deeper.
Evan was determined not to scream out in pain, to endure more than he had thought was possible. His knuckles were white as he gripped the table and felt the burning sensation in his hole. He wanted to make Veronica proud, to prove to her friend that he was worthy of sticking around. Soon, the pain turned to indescribable pleasure as the dildo started hitting the right spots. Within seconds, Evan had gone from one extreme to the other, only now, trying to stifle the moans of pleasure instead of ones of pain. He didn’t want them to know that he had been so easily converted, he was afraid of what potential scenarios that would create.
The sounds of talking brought him back to reality and he listened intently to a conversation that had been going on for some time, drowned out by his own voyage of anal pleasure. “. . . yeah, I know, me too. But right now, I can’t think about that. Right now, all I want is for him to eat my pussy. I’m so wet and I want to cum so hard.”
Veronica released the handcuffs and instructed him to lie on the table. He did as instructed and felt his hands being handcuffed again. He spoke up on his behalf. “Please, I don’t want to get away. I’m not going to resist. Can you please leave the handcuffs off?”
Veronica smiled and nodded, acknowledging his demands but not meeting them. Yvette slipped her skirt down her legs and then her tiny thong. Evan was mesmerized and he looked at Veronica, seeking some sort of approval. He wanted to make her proud, he wanted her to know that he was doing it for her. He desperately wished he could be eating Veronica’s pussy but he knew that was an honor he’d have to earn. Yvette was incredibly sexy but it was Veronica that Evan wanted to belong to, whom he wanted to worship. She looked deeply into his eyes, conveying her compassion and understanding and admonishing him with her stare that he had better not disappoint her.
Yvette climbed on the table, lowering her cunt slowly to his face. Evan stared up in disbelief. Her pussy held him captive by the sweet folds of flesh as they opened for him. He stuck his tongue out and waited, not so patiently for his first taste of dark desire. Teasing him, Yvette let him take in every detail before she positioned herself comfortably on his face, using it as a seat cushion of pleasure. The full weight of her body was a bit overwhelming but he felt Veronica’s hands caressing his body and he was inspired to do whatever he had to do to make her proud.
Even though Yvette was petite, with her full body weight on him, Evan hovered somewhere between consciousness and ecstasy. His senses were deprived and he was overwhelmed with the sensation of wanting to gasp for air along with the intense feelings in his throbbing, restrained cock. Her full ebony ass shielded his vision and prevented much movement on his part.
The slippery folds of her pussy coated his face with juices as his tongue and jaw ached from trying his best to pleasure this woman and give her pleasure. She masturbated herself back and forth at times, rubbing his nose from clit to asshole; the sexy scent of her pussy a stark contrast to the musky aroma of her butt. Evan loved it; he loved every second of sweet torture.
Occasionally, she would raise herself up to give him a brief second of reprieve. For that instant, his eyes would be flooded with light, he would gasp for air like a man drowning, and he would feel the cool air revive him. Rather than being the sensation he craved, he longed to feel the warmth and security of that gorgeous black pussy on his mouth again as he teetered near the edge of suffocation and orgasm. He pretended it was Veronica, riding him, using him. He imagined he was driving his tongue up in the sweet recesses of her sexy treasure. Veronica taunted him, teased him, asking him if he could take more, demanding that he make her friend cum or else. She humiliated and degraded him. “Look at your pathetic cock, jerking wildly, dripping like a faucet. Make her cum white boy. Make her cum and I just may let you back to experience more.
Yvette began bouncing up and down, one the verge of orgasm. Veronica began to slap and twist Evan’s balls cruelly, pulling them to administer pain, or was it pleasure? Determined, he refused to stop until he could taste Yvette’s cum pouring down his throat. Her legs covered his ears, he could barely hear her moans but he knew that she was about to cum. He sensed the muscles in her legs tighten up and she was more aggressive with her gyrations, bouncing up and down harder. For a moment, he thought he was going to be crushed. The only thing that kept him alive was the fact that Veronica was stroking his cock, twisting it, slapping it, masturbating him cruelly. He couldn’t breathe; he was feeling faint. The pleasure was indescribable and Yvette was riding him hard, cumming even harder. He could feel her nails digging into his flesh and . . . without warning, Veronica removed the strap, causing Evan’s body to explode in orgasm like he’d never known before.
Evan awoke the next morning in his own bed. His limbs were fatigued and sore; his body ached and his mind was drained. He stumbled to the kitchen to get some juice and after that he wasn’t really sure what to do. His experience the evening before had left him emotionally drained. He couldn’t go back to the way things were, he had been transformed. He was experiencing every detail over in his mind. He opened the door to the balcony and stepped outside to get some fresh air. Veronica was seated outside, sipping iced coffee and engrossed in the morning paper. She looked up, acknowledged him with a wave, and went back to reading. Evan retreated back inside, unsure of what to say, what to do. When he sat at his computer and opened his email that he saw that Veronica had emailed him.
“I was extremely proud of you last night. You did very well. I will look forward to pushing you further, exploring more in the future. V.”
He felt a sense of accomplishment and pride like he’d never known. He ran to the balcony again and opened the door. Veronica was gone but she’d left her mark, on his body and in his soul.
Tuesday, August 09, 2016
One of the real joys of the holiday season is how the kink community comes together to celebrate. It seems that everyone is allowed to let their hair down that much more, to party like pagans, and to lose him or herself to pure hedonistic pleasure. This holiday season, the Houston kink community was coming together not only to celebrate in grand style, to say goodbye to ’05 and usher in a brand spanking new year, literally and figuratively, but also to raise funds for those in their BDSM family that were displaced by Hurricane Katrina. Meaning, quite bluntly, insurance companies left many Black Dominas from Crescent City to fend for themselves when it came to replacing many of their custom built pieces of furniture, equipment, and paraphernalia while their white counterparts got a check cut, no questions asked. Houston PEP recognized the disparity and decided to have a fundraiser for its newly adopted Lousiana transplants to help them re-establish themselves and to embrace them with open arms and have a hell of a blowout party at the same time.
The generosity of the partygoers that evening was beyond compare. People brought everything from whips and paddles to swings and straight jackets, to a St. Andrew’s Cross and everything in between. One generous benefactor was even kind enough to donate space so that Mistresses Eden, Cree, Ana, Ebony, and Chocolate would have a place to set up shop without much hassle. Electricity was in the air as the ladies mixed and mingled among their newfound family to introduce themselves. Charlie Papadopoulos was particularly aroused at the presence of the guests of honor. He had always been attracted to women of color and he had acknowledged that he was submissive for nearly two decades. He was like a kid in a candy shop, distracted and fidgety. His wife, Eva, was barely able to have a conversation with him because he was so preoccupied. He hadn’t even heard her inform him that he was going to be a contestant in a very special selection process to serve and worship the honorees for the evening. It wasn’t until she led him to the stage by a leash where he stood among four other subs and waited to be inspected to see if he would have the privilege of serving the Black Dommes that he truly got an understanding of what could potentially happen.
His heart was beating fast and his face was flush. His cock was so hard it ached as he stood for what seemed like hours. People passed by, making comments and speculations about who would win and be subjected to the sadistic whims of FIVE strict Dominatrixes. Charlie swallowed hard and kept his eyes on the floor. He dared not look at the other subs that stood next to him. He felt inferior; his body not as young, lithe, or muscled as his other competitors. He could hear their laughs and taunts as they described his small cock and middle-aged paunch, assured, in their minds at least, that they would get a place at the feet of the Dominas and the opportunity of a lifetime.
The lovely Dommes examined the submissives one by one. First was Mistress Eden. The youngest of the group at 21, she had a lot to prove. She wanted everyone to know that she was truly a dominant and not just a kid playing at being domme. Charlie only saw her well-pedicured feet as he kept his eyes on the floor but he certainly felt the pain in his nuts as he grabbed them and twisted them enough to bring him to his knees. He wouldn’t, however, crumble that easily and he kept his composure through the pain. His honor was at stake and he focused his mind to endure whatever was necessary in order to serve. He would endure more humiliation, more degradation, more pain than the human mind and body was capable of for the honor of serving. Mistress Cree, dressed in a full-length latex gown, and Mistress Ana, wearing a leather corset and panties, poked and prodded Charlie like he was a piece of livestock. They opened his mouth and examined his teeth like they would a horse as he stood stoically as the onlookers took bets to see who would survive the next elimination. They bent him over and fingered his ass and Charlie couldn’t help but whimper. He felt his knees weaken slightly but the prize was too close. Two of the others had been eliminated and it was down to just him and two others. He felt them shoving fingers in his tight mancunt and he looked out into the audience and saw his wife Eva casually chatting away with her friends, oblivious to his predicament while everyone else in the room seemed to have their eyes glued to the makeshift stage.
Mistress Ebony was a super-sized BBW, tipping the scales at well over 300 pounds. Her red see-through negligee showed her pendulous breasts and rolls of fat. She seemed to be intrigued with having each sub on his knees to swat his tender flesh with her riding crop, listening to the most creative pleas for more punishment. Charlie was in sub space. He was intoxicated with lust. The words came tumbling out of his mouth as the crop came down on his body. “Oh Mistress, I crave your punishment. I’m a dirty, filthy, lowly white pig that lives to serve your Superior Ebony whims and desires. Make me endure the most cruel penalties, the most degrading tortures and I’ll prove to you that I want more by begging your to push me further. I’m a disgusting white slut that needs to be used and I will gladly eat your ass, drink your piss, or anything that you desire to show my submissiveness to you.”
By the time Mistress Chocolate stepped on the stage, it was down to Charlie and one other sub. The crowd was in a frenzy. Mistress Chocolate didn’t lay a finger on him. She simply whispered in his ear with a sweet melodious voice, that if she selected him, she was going to make regret his desire to submit to her. She began stroking his cock, twisting it, slapping it, and rubbing it gently with her black satin-gloved hand, trying to bring him to orgasm. Every tendon, every sinew in his body was tensed as he focused on her words and kept his eyes focused on the crowd. She pressed her very muscular frame into his back and whispered, “I’m going to take you down. You’re the one I want to see suffer. You have the most to lose. You, with your high paying job, your middle class air of superiority. I want to see you kneel at my feet and worship me.” Charlie let out a moan like a wounded animal and fought with every ounce of his being to hold back his cum. Everyone was in a state of arousal. Subs were licking wet pussies and being forced to lick feet as the all white crowd watched with wide eyes.
Charlie passed out. When he awoke, he was trying to figure out what had happened. Had he won? Had he cum? He tried to speak but he was overwhelmed with the sensation that he was firmly secured in a stockade in a room with a glass window. He couldn’t turn his head to see anyone but he assumed that there was a large audience.
For the next few hours, Charlie was the plaything of the five black women. Mistress Eden was intent on using his asshole with her black strapon like he was a whore. No longer feeling the need to hold back, he moaned, groaned, and begged for more. “Oh Mistress, I need your hard, thick, black strapon rammed in my sissy pussy. Fuck me. Fuck me harder, make it hurt. It feels so fucking good, ram me. Use my white slutty asshole. Can’t you fuck me any harder than that?” His taunts were met with the Domme fucking him like a rag doll. His pleas for more weren’t to be heard for very long because he his mouth was quickly put to use licking the huge, sweaty asshole of Mistress Ebony. He could barely breath with the fleshy mounds of her enormous ass covering his entire face. He worked his tongue in and licked the musky flavors as he could hear the muffled laughs as he felt he was going to pass out.
Deeper in sub space than he had ever been, being watched by dozens of onlookers, Charlie felt the sting of even more punishment applied to his ass. Mistress Ana administered a cat-o-nine tails on his back, ass, and thighs, hitting his tender balls. He would have cried out if Mistress Cree hadn’t grabbed his hair firmly in her hands and pressed her hot cunt to his mouth and forced him to drink her hot piss. It was a never-ending onslaught of sensation, each woman demanding pleasure in different ways.
It was the mysterious and gorgeous, Mistress Chocolate, however that stalked her prey. She wanted his singular focus and she waited patiently for the others to tire of using him. Charlie wanted more; he was desperate to be pushed past his limits. His neck was aching as he strained to look up at her. Her toned brown legs were inches from his face. She lifted her skirt slowly, making the crowd gasp in shock. Underneath the short miniskirt was the fully functioning cock of a transsexual. It was a full 8 inches in length and impressively thick. Charlie swallowed hard and started begging, “Feed me that hot black cock, shove it in my mouth, fuck my face, make me suck it like the depraved cocksucking whore that I am.” Not one to disappoint, Mistress Chocolate fed him her entire dick, making him choke and gag. In the zone, Charlie used his tongue, lips, and mouth to make that gorgeous cock shoot loads of creamy cum in his mouth.
Exhausted and sore, Charlie and Eva made the trip back home the next day in relative silence. Charlie could be more proud because his actions were part of a terrific fund-raiser for a very worthy cause. It was a night to remember and the stuff dreams are made of for a white sub named Charlie with an incredible desire for chocolate.
Copyright 2005 AfroerotiK