Every August, kinksters from all over the country convene at the annual Black Beat Conference to let off a little steam, party, and revel in some dark debauchery. It’s a common meeting ground for people of color in the BDSM community, and the people who admire them, to explore their fantasies with others. It was also an event perfectly suited for Rick and Tracy, as they were an interracial couple who liked to dabble in the D/s world, and the conference was only a hop, skip, and a jump from their Baltimore digs. They could go, check it out, and if they weren’t particularly feeling the crowd, they could be home in less than a half hour.
It was a gorgeous summer night, electricity was in the air, and the couple was feeling frisky and adventurous. Rick was anxious to attend the event, a little more so than perhaps he wanted to let on, because he was hoping his beautiful Ebony girlfriend of approximately four years would take the opportunity to explore her dominant side with a little greater gusto. He was hoping she would be inspired to be a little more adventurous, a bit more stern, that she would assume her true role as Domme to reduce him to the pain pig/oral slut he longed to be who worshipped at her feet. For Tracy, the weekend was nothing more than a chance to have some fun and release some of the pressure of her job as an attorney, perhaps even get off on a little exhibitionism.
It wasn’t as if the lovely lady was totally unfamiliar with the world of female domination. Elise Sutton, a Dominatrix who specializes in counseling for Doms and subs in loving relationships did a little match making, introduced the pair, and the two hit it off immediately. They were interdependent in the healthiest of ways; they traveled the world together, and just seemed to fit each other like a lock and key. It was their genuine love for one another that cemented their relationship; it was their equal alpha personalities that led them to explore opposite ends of the BDSM spectrum. Rick had always needed Tracy to be a little more sadistic during their play time but it seemed to be a little outside her comfort zone so he didn’t push, he just held out hope that she would one day realize her true power and supremacy as a woman, and more specifically, as a woman of African descent.
The hotel lobby was buzzing with activity. To the casual and oblivious observer, it could have been some sort of work-related conference. Everyone was dressed in their vanilla attire, mixing and mingling, registering, and signing up for presentations. “Honey, why don’t you sign up for this class,” Rick suggested, as he pointed to the sheet titled: Female Domination in Black and White. It wasn’t so much the subject matter that made him push Tracy in that direction but it was the presenter. Mistress Khadijah was a stunningly beautiful Black Femdom who hailed from Tampa and he knew that she was exactly the type of woman who would get his girlfriend’s bisexual juices flowing.
Just one glance at the picture and that was enough for Tracy to say, “Sure, that looks good, I’ll sign us up.”
“Oh, no,” he said, “you go ahead and sign up for that, I’m going to be checking out some of the vendors to see if I can get some things for us to take home with us. Who knows what sorts of things they might have here? I’ll be fine, we’ll catch up with each other later in the room.”
It wasn’t the most well thought out plan, to just leave his girlfriend by herself and hope that she would have a grand epiphany and realize that she really wanted to ride her man’s face to the point of near suffocation. He’d done his research, however, and found out that Mistress Khadijah was the head of a woman’s support group called “Black Women in Kink.” He was sure there were going to be lots of women there who might help her see the female domination light.
He couldn’t have been more accurate if he had planned every detail. Tracy took her place in the front row, mainly to get an up close and personal view of the instructor. She had changed her clothing to something a bit more revealing but nothing like the other ladies who were leather-clad with their tits pushed up and falling out of corsets and bustiers. She glanced around the room and all she saw was women who looked like her. It was an odd sensation, in that she spent most of her time in a white world, the sensation of being among true peers was almost a little too much to digest.
It was the speaker who held her attention the most. Her face, her hair, her body were mesmerizing. The way she moved about the room, the fluidity of her speech, delivered like a true professional, was all very impressive. Tracy had to concentrate to hear the words she spoke and pretend to take notes. Khadijah delivered with a powerful punch too. She asked the class by a show of hands how many owned white subs. With the exception of one woman, everyone raised their hand. She talked openly about how to best harp on racial differences and the necessity of Black women to start owning their true power. In her presentation, Mistress Khadijah extolled the virtues of forced oral. “Normally, eating a black woman’s pussy is an honor and privilege that most subs should not be able to earn unless they are cleaning out the cum of a real man. In rare instances, when a Domme is in need of satisfaction and a real man isn’t available, she can use the services of a sub to pleasure her. It is entirely up to you and at your discretion. It is a good idea to use a tens unit to administer pain to the tiny white cocks of the sub. Don’t be afraid of damaging them. Most of the time, their pricks don’t work anyway, and even when they do, they are too small to please a real woman.”
Tracy squirmed in her seat. What was being said hit a little too close to home. She glanced around nervously at the other women who were whispering to one another and nodding in agreement. She thought for a minute that she might be the only woman in the room who was in a relationship with her “sub.” She never really considered Rick her sub, she considered him her boyfriend who just happened to like a little rough play in the bedroom.
Sensing her discomfort, Mistress Khadijah made eye contact with Tracy and held her gaze captive. It was in that moment, Tracy was able to get lost in the real reason she had signed up to take the class in the first place. Her attraction to Khadijah was intense. Sitting on the table before her, crossing her legs, Tracy was able to see directly up the skirt of the instructor, see her beautiful, shaved pussy just a few feet away. It was all she could do the keep herself from getting out of her seat and spreading those gorgeous brown thighs and burying her face in that soft, sweet, succulent pussy. While not a sub herself, there was no denying that she longed for the taste, scent, and feel of a woman in her life and in her arms. Mistress Khadijah was so confident, so unapologetic in her blackness, it aroused Tracy in a way she’d never experienced before.
She swallowed hard as the Domme continued her lecture. “Choose your instruments of punishment carefully. The cat of nine tails is effective for when they behave badly, disobeying your orders. You can use a riding crop when you want to take out your frustrations from your day on him for no reason. It causes the most damage and will leave him to be unable to sit for days without thinking of your divine countenance. Paddles can be used when training your sub to make them perform tasks they don’t want to do. Make him say, ‘Oh Mistress, please beat my worthless cock and balls and show me what a repugnant, white worm I am, one that’s not fit to eat your divine Black pussy or kiss the bottom of your holy foot.’ Make him beg for more punishment, because most white subs are pain sluts anyway and want nothing more than to experience extreme torture.”
There was a ring of truth to her words but before she could wrap her head around the reality of it, before she could make sense of the feelings that were making her body ache with desire, the lecture was over. “So, what did you think?”
Snapped back to reality, Tracy looked up as Mistress Khadijah towered over her. The other ladies were clearing the room, heading out to other presentations or over to the conference dungeon to put some of the tactics they learned into practice. “It was, uhmmmm . . . Hi, my name is Tracy.” She stood and extended her hand to shake. It was too early to tip her hand that, truth be told, she had never been comfortable in her own skin playing up the racial differences to the degree that Mistress Khadijah seemed to exhibit.
One of the things that makes a woman a good Domme is her ability to sense what isn’t said. Mistress Khadijah said, without even so much as the usual pretense at casual conversation, “Is your sub here, you know, at the conference?” I could always go back with you to your room and give you some private lessons. On me.” She winked.
Things were moving too quickly for Tracy but her competitive nature came out and she accepted the offer. In the elevator, Mistress Khadijah moved closer. Whispering in her ear she said, “I saw you staring at my pussy. Did you like what you saw?”
Without missing a beat, a figurative black beat as it were, Tracy took her hand and ran it down the small of her companion’s back, over her full ass and in between her legs under she very short skirt. She slid her fingers in that hot, wet slit and manipulated the wet folds of flesh. She whispered back,” I can’t wait to stick my tongue in that hot pussy.”
The seal was broken. The two women had made a connection without all the pomp and circumstance of getting to know one another. In some sort of transcendent way, they were the same person. In some sort of other-worldly dimension, they had been meant to meet and connect immediately.
Unaware of the connection that had been made, Rick was waiting anxiously in the room with all of his toys laid about, ready to show his lady. He’d gone all out and purchased metal sounds, needles, a crown of thorns, floggers, whips and a couple of CBT devices he was going to have to read up on the directions when he got home. He was naked and aroused, anxious for Tracy to try out any new techniques she’d learned in her class. When he heard the card in the door, he was excited to see how things had gone. “Honey, wait till you see all the stuff I got, we are going to have a lot of fun trying all this stuff out.”
He turned toward the door and froze momentarily. Instinctually, he covered himself with his hand and then let his hand fall to the side. This was his room, his domain; he saw no need to cover himself in the presence of a stranger. He saw Tracy and Mistress Khadijah, arm in arm, talking like old friends as they strolled in the room. “Honey, I want you to meet . . .”
“Yes, Mistress Khadijah. I’m familiar. Enchante’ mademoiselle. You are even more lovely in person.” She extended her hand as he kissed the back of it softly. His body was alive with excitement. She looked him up and down, noticing what would normally be barely detectable movement in his cock, and smirked. Tracy felt a sense of pride in having Rick on display like that. His body was still in good shape and his nudity in contrast to their fully clothed frames, his pale flesh in contrast to their deeply melanated skin, was erotic.
“What do we have here? I see you’ve been doing a little shopping. Care to try any of these things out?” Mistress Khadijah was circling the bed, examining all the new acquisitions. Tracy was getting more comfortable, taking her dress off and going down to her black garter belt, silk stockings, and bra.
Without even asking Khadijah her preference, she said, “Khadijahi is here isn’t here for you, she’s here for me. You’ll be allowed to pleasure me, but that’s it.”
Rick could sense a newly discovered sense of power in Tracy, a confidence she’d never really displayed before. Mistress Khadijah approached Tracy from behind and cupped her breasts in her hand. She kissed along the back of her neck and her shoulders as Tracy surrendered to the sensation. Tiny moans of pleasure escaped her lips as she felt the soft tongue and lips of her new lover explore her hot spots.
Tracy turned and faced Khadijah. They kissed. For the briefest of moments, Rick felt a pang of jealousy. The kiss was soft, sensual, powerful; the two women were sharing intimacy with their mouths. He cleared his throat, indicating that he wanted to be let in on the play too. That was the wrong thing to do as both women, again without communicating specifically, turned and decided to take out their wrath on him for interrupting their special moment.
Instructed to lie on the bed, Rick’s hands were securely restrained to the nightstands. Both ladies picked up respective instruments of torture and spoke of their plans of attack. Mistress Khadijah held the riding crop, slashing it through the air and sending waves of fear and adrenaline through Rick’s prone body. Not to be outdone, Tracy grabbed a handful of simple clothespins from the collection of toys. She place one on the scrotum of her lover and saw him wince in discomfort. That was nothing compared to the first blow he felt delivered from Mistress Khadijah. He cried out in pain. It was sweet pain, a sensation he’d longed for for a very long time.
“You better make sure he stays silent. How about you sit on his face to muffle any screams.” Tracy felt a chill. The word “screams” seemed so extreme. She looked at Rick and his eyes said all that needed to be said. He wanted this. He craved it. Straddling his face, she lowered her pussy to his mouth as he felt yet another blow from the riding crop delivered to his balls, this one harder than before.
Tracy massaged his lower belly with her soft, sensuous hands as he began to orally service his lover. The tender treatment didn’t last long as another clothespin was applied to the head of his cock. This time, when another blow from the riding crop rained down on Rick, the wet pussy of his girlfriend muffled the evidence of his punishment. The sensations reverberated in Tracy’s pussy and caused her to shudder. “Do it again,” she moaned, as she began to enjoy not only the new sensation of having her pussy stimulated thusly but also the fact that their play was reaching new levels.
“Here, you do it.” Khadijah handed Tracy the riding crop. “Beat that worthless white cock. Go ahead.” Khadijah placed the crop in Tracy’s hand and guided it with her own. He 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 cock. She had lowered her full weight on him and was making herself comfortable for a long ride. And what a ride it was. Her full ebony ass shielded his vision and her full frame 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 his Nubian goddess and give her pleasure. She masturbated herself back and forth at times, rubbing his nose from clit to asshole; the sexy scent of her cunt a stark contrast to the musky aroma of her asshole. He loved it; he loved every second of sweet torture.
THWAP! Tracy felt light headed. It was harder than she had ever hit him before. At the same time, she felt Rick’s tongue go into overdrive in her pussy, working to bring her to the edge of orgasm. She began bouncing up and down on his face, riding him, using his mouth on her pussy and asshole as she pleased. She got encouragement from Khadijah. “That’s it, use him, make him suffer. You own him, you can do anything you want with him. Treat him like a lowly animal.”
Rick’s arms ached as he pulled against the restraints. He didn’t want to get free, he only wanted to pull Tracy’s body closer, to feel his arms around the smooth, soft thighs of the woman who was riding his face to an orgasmic finish line. Blow after blow rained down on him, each time getting harder and harder, each time making Tracy’s pussy gush with more delicious juice. In a zone, she was oblivious to anything other than her own pleasure. Khadijah was encouraging her, whispering in her ear things Rick could only imagine. He couldn’t hear. His entire world was centered on the wet pussy that smothered his face and the steady punishment that was being delivered to his genitals.
Mistress Khadijah caressed Tracy’s body and inspired her to bring it home. An explosive orgasm was close at hand. Tracy bounced harder, driving his tongue in her deeper. She hit him harder, pushing him to satisfy her in ways she’s never thought possible before. Khadijah was kissing her, driving her body and mind into sensory overload. 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. But rather than being the sensation he craved, he longed to feel the warmth and security of the weight of this beautiful Black woman as he teetered near the edge of suffocation and orgasm. She taunted him, teased him, asking him if he could take more. She began bouncing up and down, aroused by the idea of having that much control over another human being. Aroused that she could use his mouth and tongue for her pleasure with no regard for him at all.
His ears were covered by her legs, 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. He was going to be crushed but he had to make her cum, to feel her juices flow in his mouth. He was a thoroughbred and she was the champion jockey, about to win the sexual Preakness. “Oh shit, I’m gonna cum, I’m cumming . . . I’m cumming.”
Exhausted, she fell on the bed, drained emotionally and sexually. Mistress Khadijah undid the restraints that held Rick captive and the two cuddled together. She grabbed her purse and was about to make her discrete exit when Tracy called out to her. “Wait, I’m not finished with you yet. Don’t go.”
Smiling, she undressed and crawled in bed next to Tracy. The two would eventually make love in front of Rick while he was forced to watch, they would experiment with all the toys he had purchased and even a few that Mistress Khadijah had in her room before the weekend was over. Black Beat was certainly an enlightening experience for both Tracy and Rick and they headed home with a new sense of self-awareness and more clearly defined roles.
Copyright 2008 AfroerotiK
