“Ah, ah, ah!” Damian said in a mocking tone towards him, “Socks too. Cucks don’t wear socks.”
Savannah’s giggles grew sharper at that. Brendan begrudgingly followed orders, pulling each sock off of his feet before his boxers. Even Damian’s feet were bigger than his own.
Finally he drew his boxers down. His little boner popped out right away, standing right at attention towards Savannah’s bare, pale, thick beauty.
Both of them fully laughed at him now that he stood naked before them. The contrast truly was stark; Damian was big, muscular, really built like a man, where Brendan was weak, thin but flabby, and truly ugly in comparison.
Savannah paid no attention to his little boner whatsoever, only reaching down to stroke Damian’s longer, blacker cock instead.
“You’re not even half the man he is,” she said to him. She was correct, as even his erect dick wasn’t half the length of the black man’s.
Damian chuckled again and added, “You’re not a real man at all, are you, whiteboy?” Brendan lowered his gaze but couldn’t find the words to answer from within the wave of shame they were washing over him.
“You’re right,” Savannah said after another shower of mirthful giggles. “A real man wouldn’t just kneel there on the floor while his own girlfriend gets fucked.”
They both laughed again and Brendan heaved a sigh of relief as he stood there. His silence at the man’s question luckily hadn’t earned him some sort of punishment.
“Now, he’s still hard…” Savannah said salaciously. Brendan audibly gulped, fearing already what was coming next. “I think he should finish in your mouth.”
Brendan just stood there, eyes wide and wet, cheeks flustered, ultimately helpless to them. Damian was already getting up off the bed and stepping around towards him. Before he knew it, those manly black hands were forcing him down to his knees by his shoulders.
His vision spanned the full breadth of Damian’s rock-hard chest and abs until he was face-to-face with his massive cock. He felt the black man’s hands drift from his shoulders to the back of his head as soon as his knees hit the rugged floor.
His mouth seemed to open on instinct as his face was drawn closer to the big black cock within the very next instant. One more second and the full thickness of his cock was sliding in and out of Brendan’s lips at an increasingly rapid pace. He merely closed his eyes and took it, like a totally debased bitch.
To his own surprise, he didn’t gag at all as the perpetual thrusts of black cock ran through his throat. Some saliva dribbled in the midst of the ravaging down to his beard fur. At least he didn’t have to put any work in; he only had to keep his mouth open to be used as a slot for his girlfriend’s black lover’s fat cock.
It seemed like many minutes passed of just that. Finally, Damian held Brendan’s head down so his cock penetrated the full length of his neck and released a deep and manly grunt.
The poor boy felt a rush of cum spray right down his throat, straight from the source. As the black man slid his long dick out from between his lips, some of his cum spilled out from his mouth and coated his beard hair.
Damian soon turned around and took his place on the bed beside Savannah once again, without saying so much as a word about what he’d just done. Brendan’s vision cleared and shifted towards his girlfriend.
She moved a lock of loose orange curls aside with her left hand and continued rubbing her pussy with her right. It seemed she enjoyed seeing her lover dominate her boyfriend more than he had thought.
Brendan heard the bathroom door creak open, sending him falling out of this memory of sucking cock for the first time. He was still laying sideways, crumpled and bound on the floor of the shower stall, and all he could smell was urine.
“Phew, it fucking reeks in here,” called Fiona’s voice from the doorway as she stepped in. He struggled in his utter debasement to look up at her sideways from the floor.
As she stepped ever-closer, he realized she did somewhat resemble his girlfriend–just rounder of face and form. Soon enough, one of her pale hands landed on the faucet above him and a stream of water followed upon his skin. “I’m not dealing with that stench all week. Clean it up, bitchboy.”
♠♠♠♠♠
Eleanor crept across the narrow hall within her two-room apartment, from her bedroom to the wider living space. She checked the bathroom on the way; it was pristine, just as she had ordered Matty to accomplish. She knew she would find the little sissy in the other room, but she didn’t expect “her” to be wearing Eleanor’s own dark magenta dress–standing upright, no less–striking poses and blowing kisses in the mirror of her front-facing phone camera.
Eleanor had allowed the makeup, just some black eyeshadow, eyeliner, and wine red lipstick–she had even applied it herself–and the old little bra and thong she might’ve discarded had Matty not followed through on her submission, which she was assuredly still wearing under the dress she had pilfered, without permission.
The sissy’s thin, gaunt face glowed in the light of her phone screen within the otherwise rather dark apartment, until Eleanor approached her close enough to make her smile twist into a fearful frown.
She grabbed Matty’s wrist and wrested the phone away, then slapped her across the face with about half her left hand’s strength. She was determined to make the sissy’s fears warranted.
“I didn’t give you permission to wear my dress!” she shouted with some rage she could not fully explain nor understand at the time.
“I’m sorry, Mommy-” Matty started to stammer.
“And you’re supposed to be on your knees,” Eleanor continued, ignoring her pleas.
“Take it off and kneel. Now,” she ordered sternly.
Matty pulled the dress off over her head–careful not to mess up the makeup, as Eleanor noticed–and smoothed “her” long hair out around her pale little face as she lowered herself to her knees on the wooden floor. Eleanor took a moment to snatch the dress and bring it back to her closet.
She knew “no” was a foreign word to Matty when it came to her; it wasn’t potential disobedience that bothered her so much, but she couldn’t quite discern what bothered her so much in that moment in the light of that truth.
With a heaving sigh, she hung up the dress and stepped hard right back up to her sneaky little slave, towering over “her” shivering and shamed form. Sure enough, the little black bralette and magenta panties she had allowed the sissy to wear were still planted firmly on her body, in just the right places. Not even a bulge from underneath the panties was visible; absolutely pathetic.
Matty knelt beneath her, eyes on the hardwood, hair over face in disgrace. “You’re not a woman,” Eleanor said sternly to her kneeling slave as she crossed her arms on her chest above her.
After a second’s deliberation, Matty whipped “her” head up and protested, “I am, though,” in a meek, pained little whimper.
Their eyes locked together. Eleanor bent down to face her little slave now, deciding to be just a touch more careful and watching the sissy shiver in her proximity, so delicate and deliciously weak for her.
“How can you tell?” she asked, innocently, wanting a genuine answer.
“Because it hurts,” Matty murmured like a toddler.
“You’re right,” Eleanor said with a smile.
She caressed Matty’s hair and she seemed to freeze at the touch of her holiness. It was still just a bit out of order, but Eleanor fixed that for her.
Her painted lips were smiling, but her wide hazel eyes remained sad. Her left cheek grew pink with the natural blush of Eleanor’s handprint.
With a brightening of her own smile, Eleanor stood up straight again, and of course Matty stayed put on her knees below her. Eleanor proceeded to turn around and bend back over, putting her fat ass–still covered by her black leggings–right in Matty’s little face with great and lustful elegance.
“Do you love me?” Eleanor asked expectantly.
“Yes, Mommy,” Matty said, moving in to plant a kiss between her big bubbly cheeks.
“Do you worship me?” Eleanor pressed on, expecting more.
“Yes, Mommy,” Matty answered before she felt the kiss on the right side of her ass.
“Do you serve me?” Eleanor finally asked, though she knew the answer to that question by now.
“Yes, Mommy,” Matty said so predictably before the final kiss was placed right on Eleanor’s covered left ass cheek.
“Good.” Eleanor whirled back around to face her slave again, smiling even brighter this time. “Get flat on your back, my sweet little slave,” she ordered.
Matty did as she was told instantly, unfolding her almost totally bare little body backwards until she faced the ceiling.
Eleanor then stripped herself of her leggings, letting her fat ass bounce out freely as she stepped out of them and proceeding to remove her thin black thong, as well. She moved to straddle over Matty’s weak little face, hovering above it for a moment until she finally lowered down on top of her, slowly.
Smothered beneath the heavy weight of Eleanor’s godly ass, Matty could no longer say a word. She only got straight to licking, her skilled tongue traversing the space between her fat ass to soon lick up her hole.
“Mmmh… that’s right, worship your queen,” she said so strongly as the tongue-worship continued more voraciously on her asshole. She soon rubbed it back and forth on top of Matty, letting her little sissy-tongue rake her hole over and over again. It always made her feel just like a queen should to ride her slave’s face and force her to worship.
Leave a Reply