Possible Worlds

...of all Possible Worlds by T.S. Severe Chapter 25 "Are you really going to castrate Wren, Mistress?" I asked her over dinner. "Why yes, I most certainly am, Danielle." Miss Corinne replied in her Mississippi accent, sweet and sing-song. "Oh." I nodded. We were sitting on the roof, about twenty-five stories up, which seemed awfully high to me. Much of it was covered by a large canopy, almost like a circus tent, but open and airy, and the pastel canvas snapped high above our heads in the late evening breeze. There was music playing, a little jazz band was performing, and aside from a cafe of sorts, there was a swimming pool up there with a bar around it and the whole place was gaily lit with Chinese lanterns and relaxed. I rather liked the roof. "I do enjoy the ardent flavor of her personality," my Mistress continued, "but that little negra of mine is downright promiscuous. Don't you think so?" "Promiscuous?" I giggled nervously thinking I was probably the same way myself. "Oh, I don't mean with the niggers, that doesn't bother me." The woman took a small bite of her salad. "Delilah, on the other hand..." "Delilah?" I was eating my own salad and I narrowed my eyes. I knew Wren was fucking Tom Henry and Jericho about as often as she could, but I didn't know about Lilah. "Oh yes, my little faggot has gotten himself a taste for girls." Miss Corinne laughed. "Not her sweet derriere, mind you, Wren likes the real thing and I've punished the girl several times for it." "I didn't know that." I laughed too, wondering how they'd kept it secret from me. "I was hoping you'd be a good influence on the girl." Miss Corinne sighed. "Me?" "Being a sincere and devoted faggot, such as you are." My Mistress nodded. "I suspect you don't particularly enjoy being with a woman, do you?" "I like being with you, Mistress." I smiled and looked down. "Heh." She chuckled lightly. "I mean, um, when I close my eyes..." I said slowly, not wanting to offend her, "...I kind of forget you're a woman." "Why, Danielle, I believe that's the nicest thing anyone has ever said to me." Miss Corinne leaned slightly closer and her face showed real pleasure. "Thank you." She reached for my hand and gave me a little pat and then a squeeze and I knew I was blushing then, feeling very happy with myself, and both of us knowing I hadn't lied. "Oh, look at that, Danielle." Miss Corinne was looking at an older woman, a mistress who was sitting down at a table near us with a much younger bedroom buck. "Ma'am?" I shrugged, only because the woman looked like a dozen others up there and her nigger was handsome, but nothing special. "That's what I don't like." She said in a not-so-low voice. "Women who look like men in drag." I swallowed hard, nodding politely and looking away as the woman in question turned her head at the sound of my Mistress' voice, some others nearby were looking as well. "It would almost excite my blood, Danielle, if she'd done it on purpose." Miss Corinne shook her head sadly. "Yes ma'am." I blinked rapidly and I wasn't sure what to think or do. "If I ever start to look like that, you'll tell me, won't you, Danielle?" Miss Corinne was looking at me and I nodded quickly. "Yes Mistress." I breathed. "Oh...Shhh...Here she comes now." Miss Corinne shushed me theatrically and giggled. "Well, Miss Ingersoll, I thought it was you." The woman had gotten up and now she was standing next to our table. "Your daddy let you out of the attic, I see." "Only if I promised to leave town." My Mistress smiled thinly. "How are you, Mrs. Buckley? How's your husband these days?" "It's Mrs. Hardesty now." The woman smiled back. She was in her forties and not unattractive, I suppose. She didn't really look like a man in drag at all to me. "Last I heard, Mr. Buckley was planting some nigger named Sugar Daisy down in New Orleans." "Sugar Daisy?" Miss Corinne clapped her hands and laughed. "What a delightful name, I do hope they're happy together." "Are you visiting Memphis long, Miss Ingersoll?" The woman asked. "The husbands in Mississippi must be lonely in your absence." "Husbands are always lonely when the bed's too cold; you of all people should know that." My Mistress replied. "I'm Mrs. Reiser now, of the Memphis Reisers. I would have thought a woman as well informed as yourself would read the society page." "Really?" Mrs. Hardesty looked decidedly unhappy with that news, but she hid it quickly. "I've been abroad until recently, traveling with my husband in Europe." "Oh? And how is the Fuhrer these days." Miss Corinne tilted her head. "The very picture of health, Miss Ing...I mean, Mrs. Reiser, silly me." The woman smiled apologetically. "Yes. Silly you." Miss Corinne laughed lightly. "Well, I'd insist that you join me, but I'm afraid the hour is growing late and..." "Of course it is." Mrs. Hardesty nodded sympathetically. "Oh, we're having a little dinner party, raising funds for my husband's upcoming campaign, perhaps I could send you and Mr. Reiser an invitation?" "Why thank you, but I do believe we have one." Miss Corinne smiled. "I'm certain my husband will give it careful consideration." "Of course he will." "But getting Mr. Reiser to pay a thousand dollars for a dinner plate..." My Mistress chuckled. "...Well, You know how hard it is to get money out of a Jew." "Oh," Mrs. Hardesty paled. "Your husband is Jewish?" "A lesbian and a Jew." Miss Ingersoll nodded. "It's the secret of our happy marriage, we're both tight fisted." "I, uh...Good evening, Mrs. Reiser." The woman left without another word and Miss Corinne just shook her head. "Mr. Reiser is Jewish?" I asked her a moment later, because I honestly didn't know if he was or not, but I wouldn't have thought so. "Danielle." My Mistress looked into my eyes. "We're all Jewish when faced with people like that; don't let anyone tell you different." "I don't understand." I cleared my throat. "Hardesty is the Nazi candidate, well, we don't call them Nazi's here, they're North American Socialists, it's the same thing though." The woman told me. "And if you're not one of them, you're a Jew, or a Bolshevik, or a homosexual, or any of a thousand other things they don't like." "But my Master..." "Oh, good heavens, girl!" Miss Corinne chided me with a giggle. "Get your purse, we're going downstairs. The air is foul with politics up here, I swear." I didn't know anything about politics, of course, nor did I understand my Mistress' remark about everyone being Jewish. A lot of people liked the German's though, but not Miss Corinne apparently and I wondered why. The only thing I really knew for sure was that my Mistress and that other woman, Mrs. Hardesty, they didn't care for each other at all. Miss Corinne wasn't like other women either, she didn't mind letting people know her opinion of them, although she always seemed to find the most polite way possible to insult someone. It was one of the things about her I found very intimidating and I was very glad she was fond of me. I spent the next few hours playing ornament to my Mistress, staying close and clutching her arm while she moved through the social circles. I didn't mind so much, it was a lot like being with Mr. Reiser when he did the same thing at the Owner's Club. I enjoyed some of the talk, listening to women discuss the latest fashions, for example, but that was exactly the sort of thing Miss Corinne found boring. She had little use for designer clothes, at least those not tailored to her specific and decidedly masculine taste, but I thought it very enjoyable and I found myself wishing I'd worn a real dress and my good jewelry, just to show off a little. "Are you bored?" Miss Corinne asked me. We were sitting in The Prance, a club of sorts and so called because the Society dressed the niggers working there as pony boys. They were all beautiful young men, dressed with leather harnesses, cock rings, and butt plugs with long silken horse hair tails extending up and out from their hard round butts. They could be gagged with bits and bridles, which usually hung loosely beneath their chins until needed. Long leather reins trailed across their broad shoulders and down their backs. The men were all large and quite muscular, an average sized woman could ride one if she desired, bareback of course. Or fuck one, if she wanted, and most often that was done bareback as well. "No Mistress." I smiled at her, sipping champagne in a small crescent shaped booth with a low table in front of our knees. "Yes you are." She decided, lifting her hand to call over one of the ponies. "I'm bored too." "Ma'am?" The boy was gorgeous, like all the slaves in The Prance were, his body sleek and well-defined and dark like Swiss chocolate. He was oiled as well and smelled of something, jasmine maybe, or sandalwood perhaps. I couldn't decide, but I liked it and I felt my penis throbbing as I looked the boy up and down slowly. "I'm bored." My Mistress sighed. "Prance for me." "Yes ma'am." The pony smiled and that was the real reason he was there in the first place, and the reason for that low sturdy table in front of us. There were a number of other ponies dancing and the music was non-stop and I suppose the place was very much like one of those burlesque strip clubs they have in Orleans, although I'd never been inside one of course. I'd heard of them though and I imagined this place was similar. It was lit in red mostly, loud and warm and intended to excite the blood.  We watched as the man got on the table and he was graceful doing it, despite his size. He danced for my Mistress in his bare feet, moving his body in time with the deep bass rhythms that shook me all the way down in my tummy. The slave's muscles seemed to ripple beneath his gleaming black skin and his cock was long and thick, hard as if it were sculpted from solid mahogany with the foreskin pulled back to reveal a light, pinkish glans. I stared at his penis, watching it move stiffly, weaving and bobbing above the nigger's big balls as they swung between his smooth brown legs. It was very erotic and I was feeling very relaxed after drinking more champagne that evening than I usually did. "Dance with him." Miss Corinne urged me with a soft laugh. "Go on, get on the table. Have some fun with him." I giggled a little self-consciously and reached down to unstrap my shoes, kicking them off as I felt my own girl cock pressing against the tiny thong trying to hold it captive. The pony grinned at me, lifting a hand and crooking a finger at me before turning to shake his wonderfully chiseled ass for my Mistress. His tail was long and auburn, brown and red and he bent over, with his legs spread so we could see the base of the buttplug which must have been buried deep inside the man's rectum and his plum sized balls hanging beneath. I climbed onto the table slowly, and it was low anyway and very sturdy, large as well, enough so that we had room enough to stand together anyway. We danced closely, as my Mistress wanted and I was laughing, my hands were roaming his body and feeling the slave damp and slightly greasy with the oil he wore. He was hard though and I delighted in exploring his muscles and it made me buzz with desire, a primal lust to possess that man, or better yet be possessed by him. He was touching me as well, smiling and sliding his hands around my waist, lifting my top slowly while Miss Corinne gave her happy approval, telling the nigger to undress me. My top came off easily as I lifted my arms, undulating my body in time with his. When my firm black tits came free I turned to my Mistress, cupping them for her, offering my aching nipples which were puffy and swollen with excitement. I squeezed my breasts and thumbed the tips, giggling and watching her face. I bent over for her, letting my tits fall heavy, the smooth skin drawn taut by their weight and the pony moved behind me, holding my hips and pressing his wonderfully hard cock against my skirt, riding my ass and grinning as I pressed back to meet him, grinding my butt against his gyrating pelvis. "The skirt too...Everything..." Miss Corinne was sitting back, rubbing the bulge of her strap-on through her breeches. The slave took her directions well and I grinned at him over my shoulder as he found the clasp and zipper of my miniskirt, releasing it from around my waist. I stepped out of it as the leather fell around my feet and kicked it away, feeling the pony boy's cock against my flushed skin now, riding the deep groove between my ass cheeks. His cock was hot and heavy and wet at the tip with precum and I realized other people were watching, us other women and their bucks sitting nearby, and some of them pointed and whispered as they could see my balls clearly and then my cock as I pulled my thong aside. We turned to face each other, the pony and me, and that was when he discovered I wasn't like most bedroom negras. The look on his handsome face was precious and he stared down between us, seeing his large black cock suddenly rubbing against my much smaller, but no less strident erection. I kissed his chest then, putting my arms around him and pressing my fingernails into the man's flesh in case he had some thoughts of moving away from me. He probably did, because the nigger didn't look nearly so eager anymore, but he was just a pony boy and my Mistress was right there to make sure he behaved himself. The Society had its own whipping post, it's own rooms devoted to nothing but correcting a slave's bad attitude and perhaps that was on his mind, more than dancing with another boy. Miss Corinne liked the scene unfolding before her though. She did love seeing our cocks pressed together and while the pony stiffened slightly with his unreasonable anxiety, I reached down to take both of us in hand. I pressed our cocks together and sliding my fingers back and forth around us, and used my mouth on his nipples. He wasn't going soft anyway and that was probably due to whatever it was that they fed those boys to keep them hard all night long, Viagra or something, maybe that same oil the cock fighters used, I wasn't sure. He was hard as a rock though and so was I, with my Mistress clapping her hands and nodding happily at our little display. "Go down on her, boy...On your knees now..." Miss Corinne was saying. She leaned forward almost breathlessly, her white skin flushed pink now and this was one of the things she liked best. She wanted to see this obviously straight young buck sucking my sissy girl cock, knowing he'd never done any such thing in his life. It seemed for a long second that the nigger might almost refuse and I wondered how my Mistress would have taken that; not too well I imagined, and so I urged him gently, releasing our cocks and putting my hands on his shoulders. I was pushing him down, although he was so much bigger and stronger than me I couldn't actually force him to do anything. The pony relented though, surrendering to what he knew was inevitable. Like it or not the slave was going to suck my penis and that just made it better for both of us, Miss Corinne and myself, I mean. The man's obvious reluctance turned us on even more and I thrust my hips forward so my cock was pressed against the nigger's belly and then his chest, sliding across his smooth dark flesh and leaving a thin trail of damp excitement behind, until he found himself kneeling on the table and I had my hands on his head. I pulled him towards me, feeling his reluctance and not caring. He was just a slave like me and we don't get to decide what we want or don't want, he knew that as well as I did. "Suck it for me..." I whispered and I didn't even know if he could hear me above the music, but he could hear my Mistress just fine, some of the other women too as they were shouting encouragement. Anything different was interesting and seeing a gorgeous pony boy going to his knees for a beautiful sissy wasn't a usual occurrence, in this club or anywhere else and the women loved it. I stroked the man's short hair, soft and kinky and shorn close to his scalp, and my penis was sliding across his face by then, not into his closed mouth, but across his cheeks and up along his nose as I pressed my small hairless balls to his chin and lips. I was almost standing tip-toe and giggled at the spectators' urgent coaxing and even a few threats. One woman, apparently one of the Sable Society's white employees, was promising the boy that if he didn't suck me, she'd tie him down and let her dogs use him as a bitch. I didn't know if she was serious or not, but she sounded like it and the man finally did open his mouth for me. I pushed my cock between his soft lips quickly then, feeling my desire like a fire in my tummy. My heart was pounding and I was giddy with the obscene pleasure of this whole affair, being watched while this handsome stud took his first cock. I sighed and held his head tight, pushing all of my smallish penis over his tongue before he realized what was happening. He choked and gagged, although I should have been far too small to give him any real discomfort. He just didn't know what he was doing and so I fucked his mouth slowly, letting him get used to the size and shape of my sissy cock. I told him to use his tongue, to move it around and wash my penis with it, but he was barely doing anything but kneeling there. He wouldn't even put his hands on me, which was mildly disappointing. It was still nice though, still fun just working my cock in and out of him, and if nothing else he was a good warm hole to fuck, a soft wet home for my penis. I was going all the way inside too, enough so my balls would press flat against his chin while I held myself deep for a second. I wasn't long in cumming anyway, being as hot for the man as I was and feeling his mouth around me. I slid my girl cock in and out of him quickly, just a few minutes after we'd started, and Miss Corinne and the others were mocking the nigger's reluctance and telling me to cum in his mouth, to feed him my hot semen. The boy had his eyes closed and he knelt on the table stiff and unhappy, but I didn't care. My whole body was contracting around my balls as they tightened and finally erupted, bringing a loud gasp as I shoved my cock between his lips as far as I could, holding his face against my female body while my sperm ejaculated quickly into his unprepared mouth. The pony boy choked then, coughing and trying to swallow, but mostly making a mess as his mouth opened wide, my orgasm spilling out from his lips to run down his face and drip onto the floor and even his own jutting cock, ironically enough. Even taking my climax into his mouth wasn't enough to make the slave go soft and I wasn't letting him go at all. He shuddered and his head jerked, but I kept my penis between the slave's slack lips until I was finished, pulling my softening cock free of him and then bending quickly to press my mouth against his. I thrust my tongue into the sloppy remains of my orgasm, because he'd swallowed very little of it really, and kissed him deeply for a half minute or so and then let the boy go. "Was it good for you?" My Mistress asked me as I sat down beside her, panting happily and snuggling close. "No." I laughed and licked my lips. "I don't think he likes me." "Hmmm..." Miss Corinne stroked my damp skin as I'd been sweating a bit and I was still naked. "...The boy should be whipped, would you like to see that?" "Me?" I blinked at her. "Um...I don't think I want to see anyone whipped, Mistress." "Of course you don't." She smiled gently. "Such a thing corrupts our delicate sensibilities." "Yes Mistress." I agreed, not sure exactly what she meant but feeling relieved anyway. It wasn't the nigger's fault he wasn't queer. "Yes ma'am?" The white woman, the one whom I thought supervised the pony boys in The Prance, was nearby and I realized my Mistress had called her over. "I want to see that boy whipped." Miss Corinne said, putting an indignant tone into her sweet voice. "I could have gotten as much pleasure watching my negra fuck a willow tree." "Of course." The woman was nodding and I swallowed hard, looking at my Mistress. "I'd expect a little more enthusiasm from a pony boy, I should think." Miss Corinne shook her head.  The slave was standing nearby now, listening carefully I was sure as his handsome face reflected not only his recent displeasure at sucking my cock, but now hearing that he was going to be punished for it. I felt bad for him and understood my owner's disappointment, but I really had no desire to see the boy hurt. He wasn't the best slave though, and he needed some training, that was clear. I hadn't enjoyed sucking pussy, but I'd done it as eagerly and well as I could because my Mistress wanted it, that's what this nigger needed to learn and so maybe a whipping would be good for him. "I'll have him punished immediately," the woman agreed, "or if you'd care to bring him to the training room..." "I'll take him." Miss Corinne nodded with a smile. "A little exercise will do my constitution some good."  "Of course." The woman smiled as well and turned her head to give her slave the bad news. Seeing a person whipped, even a dumb slave like that one, is hardly a thing I care to remember. It's enough to say that my Mistress knew her way around a bullwhip and she made me watch. It didn't last long and there were other employees there, white women who worked for the Society as trainers and they were the sort of women who took great pleasure in the suffering of others. They dressed in black leather and boots and carried crops which seemed a little theatrical to me, but the look on their faces left little doubt that they weren't serious. They watched the whipping as well, probably to ensure the Society's property wasn't unduly damaged by Miss Corinne.  There were other slaves in the room, which hardly resembled a torture chamber, I have to say. It was large and comfortable, nicely appointed with oak paneling and hardwood flooring. There were sofas and thick cushions and waiters carrying drinks for those women who wanted to watch, for there were more than a few who found their carnal desires satisfied by BDSM in all of its various guises. There were even men there, both slaves and white men. The slaves played the dominant roles for white owners who played the submissive, subjecting themselves to whatever cruel devices their black masters could devise. The white men were like the women, employees and enthusiastic in their work, treating the female members of the Society to whatever their submissive hearts desired. Much of the place was secluded, however, scenes partitioned away from prying eyes by large silk screens so that only the sounds could escape to curious ears. On the whole I found it both frightening and exciting and I was all too aware of my own submissive nature, which I was trying to hide. My fear was that someone would take me, with Miss Corinne's permission, and test my body and spirit with whips and paddles and clamps and such things as I'd never imagined. Part of me did want that, I couldn't deny it, but as I said, I tried to hide that interest for fear of attracting attention, and once my Mistress laid into the pony boy's back with her whip it became much easier for me. The sight of blood has never aroused me and at the sight of it I wanted to leave that place as soon as possible. At the end, after only a half-dozen lashes or so, eight I believe, my Mistress was panting slightly, her cheeks florid and her blouse damp with sweat. She hadn't whipped the boy quickly, but it had taken some effort as the woman had spent all of energies on each deliberate stroke with that cruel whip. I hadn't seen her that way before and while Miss Corinne was still as beautiful as ever, perhaps even more so, there was a shadow cast over her face, a malignant light in her eyes that frightened me terribly when she turned her gaze on me. "I haven't whipped a nigger in six months." The woman breathed and it was a satisfied sound while she coiled the long whip loosely in her hand. "You're very good with it." One of the Dommes smiled, taking the whip from Miss Corinne's blood stained hand. "It's a rare talent." "Thank you." My Mistress took the sincere compliment in stride. "I've had a lot of practice." They spoke for a moment, but my eyes were drawn to the pony boy, still bound to the whipping post. I was reminded of my once urgent desire to see Tom Henry whipped, not fully knowing what it was I'd been asking for, and I was very glad Mr. Reiser had been willing to change his mind for me. I wondered if my Master had ever seen this side of his new wife before and I decided he probably had, or at least he was aware of it. I wished I could ask him what he thought of it, but of course I'd never be able to do that. "This way, Danielle." Miss Corinne took me by the hand and I was surprised, but unresisting of course when I realized we weren't leaving right away. She brought me to a room, or an alcove really as there was no doorway, but only a large open arch and a three walled enclosure. It wasn't overly large and rather unremarkable except for the large windows overlooking the city on the far wall and a number of heavy wooden beams overhead. There were a great many ropes of all sizes coiled on dull hooks, hanging from the walls and I was so innocent then. I had no idea what we were doing.  My Mistress wasn't in a mood for explanations either as she merely told me to undress, to remove everything but my shoes, while she took a length of soft rope in her hands, fashioned a small noose at one end and tossed it over a beam. I didn't protest or even make much of any sound at all as the woman took another rope, this one smaller and supple, and tied my wrists together behind my back. The other rope, the one hanging over the beam, Miss Corinne attached to my left leg, slipping the noose over my foot and up to my knee, forcing me to balance on my right leg. It was rather precarious and I was incredibly nervous as the heel of my shoe was thin and delicate and I didn't know what we were doing. She pulled the rope tight and lifted my left leg high, almost painfully as I had to bend my body and my arms were useless, being tied the way I was. When my Mistress had my leg as high as she desired, which was too high for my comfort and even with my shoulders, she tied the rope off to the wall, using one of those hooks to hold the line fast. My Mistress took the rope attached to my wrists then and pulled that tight as well, stretching my arms behind me and I actually had to hop slightly, choking with the sudden fear that I would lose my balance, but I didn't.  When Miss Corinne tied that rope off to the opposite wall I was stretched in the center of the room, my body leaning to my right, pulled down by my arms and the rope binding me at my wrists, and my left leg pulled high and in the opposite direction. I was spread wide open, my soft penis and balls hanging loose and vulnerable, my asshole now easily accessible, and I didn't know why I was being punished this way. I felt my skin burning and my heart was rushing beneath my barely controlled panic. I had to fight for air and wetness threatened my wide brown eyes. "One more thing." Miss Corinne whispered and she left me briefly, which really frightened me, more than anything else. I didn't want to be left alone and helpless in that place. My Mistress returned soon enough though, carrying a black leather mask, almost a hood but with straps at the back of it. She fitted it over my face quickly, giving me little time to summon enough courage to ask her the many questions flooding my feverish mind. There was a gag built into the mask, a thick and soft bit of rubber that squeezed into my mouth and I found there was a hole through the center which allowed me to breath, but my eyes were covered completely, turning the world pitch black and I didn't like that.  I jerked slightly as Miss Corinne buckled the leather straps behind my head, securing the mask tightly in place and then there was a peculiar tugging sensation and a soft sound and I realized that the gag was inflating. My Mistress had attached a bulb apparently and now she was squeezing it so that the gag filled with air and swelled quickly inside my mouth, until all I could do was breath through the small hole in the center of the thing. My tongue was pressed down and useless, my jaws forced wide open and cheeks filled; any sound I might make was muffled and unintelligible. "Don't go anywhere, I'll be back soon." I heard Miss Corinne whisper and I flinched at the unexpected touch of her fingernails along my spine and then she was gone. I shivered almost uncontrollably as my fear grew. I couldn't see anything and sounds were distorted through the leather covering my ears. My own rapid heartbeat and labored breathing seemed much too loud and my skin seemed to crawl with anticipation, my sense of touch heightened as the other senses were deprived. I didn't know what was coming or what to expect. Was she going to fuck me? Or did my Mistress intend to whip me or beat me? My mind ran wild with possibilities, all of the worst imaginable sort as I tried to catalogue the things I'd seen and heard previously. Candles and hot wax, would she do that to me? Use a cane or a paddle perhaps, on my ass or exposed breasts as they hung low from my chest. Would she brand me somehow? Did they do that sort of thing here? I'd seen branded slaves before and I was deathly afraid of being burned in that way, or in any way for that matter. I was growing tired as well, standing on my one leg, balanced in my high heel shoe. My left leg was growing sore, the rope biting into my soft skin, under my knee and I had to wiggle my toes, moving my foot around as I was worried about my circulation suddenly. And my shoulders ached, being pulled back as they were, my arms straight out behind me. I could feel that soft line around my wrists as well, tight enough to let me imagine my fingers turning scarlet and swollen and so I wiggled them as well. My mind was feeding off claustrophobic fears, reasonable and unreasonable, and I was crying silently beneath my mask. "Mmmphhhh!!" I jerked suddenly as I felt someone taking me from behind, a male someone and large, not my Mistress. I felt his cock at my tight anus and he thrust inside me quickly, sparing me no consideration, but just stabbing his thick manhood deep into my bowels so that I very nearly collapsed. He was holding me though, keeping me steady as he fucked his cock inside my ass easily and it wasn't terribly painful, but very uncomfortable as I fought to understand what was happening and relax my trembling body around him.  He fucked me without a word, just grunting and occasionally slapping at my hip while he pushed his cock inside my burning asshole over and over. I struggled for air against that intrusion, finding the airway in my gag too small for comfort, but just barely adequate to keep me alive and conscious. The fucking did begin to feel good though and I was almost able to enjoy it, finding my own arousal building slowly despite my confusion and fear. Part of my mind, as if proving I were going insane, wondered if the man was black or white, a slave or master, as if it would make any difference to me. I'd never know who he was and any man I saw after that could be the man who'd fucked me and that was a wicked thought and I embraced it finally as something I could concentrate on other than my fears. It worked well enough and I was moving slightly to meet the man after several long minutes, not much, but enough to let him know I wanted his cock inside me and he chuckled, but still refused to speak. He came after five minutes perhaps, or longer, I really couldn't tell. It seemed both a very long and altogether too short amount of time to me. I swallowed hard, sucking thin air as if through a straw and I felt his cock grow larger for a heartbeat and then spasm rapidly, his ejaculate filling my rectum with a deep stain of pleasure that I welcomed eagerly. My own cock throbbed then and I was on the verge of my own orgasm, if only he would give me the slightest touch, just a rub or a squeeze, and I would have cum with him. The man was ignoring my girl cock though and he just held himself in my ass until he was satisfied and growing soft. He pulled out quickly and then I was alone again. End of chapter 25 http://www.asstr.org/~rache/index.htm T.S.Severe@gmail.com