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Collected by Djian
updated dec 20 2007

Another HarryBerg story | Ivy League Sluts

Part 1 | Part 2

Mob Movies part 2
by HarryBerg (HarryBerg01 (at) aol (dot) com)


Chapter 16 Successful Afternoon


“Let’s switch to hetero,” said Marshall glancing at his wristwatch.

I was kneeling on the floor with both their cocks in my mouth when Marshall announced a gender change in the oral sex portion of the examination. Jean’s head popped up from between Suzanne’s legs then returned for a final lick or two.

I reluctantly dropped my handhold from their buttocks and allowed their saliva-coated cock to leave my mouth.

“Don’t worry, Tom. You’ll get a chance to suck it some more,” said Ralph sensing my disappointment.

“Do me first, Tom,” said Connie falling back on the bed positioning her sex right at the edge.

I suppose you don’t join a sex club unless you like sex a lot. Our examiners were demonstrating a deep-seated love affair with the processes of procreation.

Suzanne climbed up on the bed straddling Connie’s face. She took hold of Connie’s ankles and pulled them back under her armpits. “I’ll hold her ankles for you, Tom. Show us how much you like to eat chocolate.”

I had never had a black woman. A beautiful cocoa colored pussy lay before me. The labia were small and symmetrical. There was a tiny v-shaped patch of curly black hair pointing down at a fully activated clit hovering above a pink vagina opening I found incredibly inviting.

I couldn’t help but notice how wet Connie was as I leaned forward placing my hands on her upper thighs for support. I couldn’t tell whether it was Jean’s saliva or Connie’s glands, probably both. All I could say for sure was there was a thick coating of wet covering her sex and oozing out of her vagina.

“I hope you like your pussy juicy, Tommie,” said Connie smiling down at me as I lowered my head.

“We call her, The Juicer,” added Marshall whose knob was receiving Jean’s attention.

This was the part of the exam I felt most confident. “I love it juicy,” I said as I used my tongue to scoop up a couple of tablespoons. It was thicker than water but thinner than honey and the flavor sent a powerful signal to my brain. I stuck my tongue out to show Connie and Suzanne then swallowed it.

“Ooh, that’s nasty but nice, Tom. Now show us what a good slave you are and get me off,” said Connie positioning her face under Suzanne’s vagina. Suzanne reached down to fork her fingers around her clit so Connie’s tongue would have a clear path to her love button.

Making Connie climax was a labor of love and none too difficult. I loved the way she tasted. When it comes to cunnilingus, I have no inhibitions. I swept my tongue over her adorable brown hole pausing to savor the musky flavor of the wrinkled skin. I teased her opening with the tip of my tongue then moved upward to the vagina and clitoris. A glance over her mons showed Suzanne’s clit was the recipient of serious tongue action.

I pressed the pad of my thumb against Connie’s sphincter as I worked my tongue between her vagina and her clit. The Juicer proved she deserved her nickname as I kept up my attack. Connie contorted her body as le petit mort swept broke over her like a July thunderstorm. I continued to work my station until she was done.

Connie slipped out from under Suzanne and off the edge of the bed to embrace me for an exploratory trip around the inside of my mouth using her tongue as a probe. I made a mental note that if black men really did not like to go down, they were missing a good thing.

“I hope you like to eat butt, Tom,” said Suzanne taking Connie’s place. Connie settled her recently climaxed and dripping cunt over her partner’s face. Suzanne’s long pointed tongue leaped into action. Connie signaled Suzanne’s desire for analingus by bending her legs back to the point her sphincter was at eye level.

“Eat her ass first, you nasty man slut,” moaned Connie as her love button experienced the power of Suzanne’s tongue.

I placed my hands on Suzanne’s buttocks using my thumbs to stretch her butthole open. There was a thin ring of curly hair surrounding her brownie. I looked Suzanne in the eye then I leaned down and licked around her anus parting the hair in a different direction; then pressing the tip of my tongue into the partially open asshole.

“Eat my backdoor, Tom. Show me how much you love butthole,” said Suzanne.

I pressed my lips and tongue hard against her sphincter, burrowing into her tight hole. The point of my tongue forced its way past the ring of muscle that guarded her opening. I felt fingertips brush against the top of my head followed by the sound of flesh slapping flesh.

“Smack that dirty slut’s pussy,” chanted Connie as she delivered a series of none too gentle palm slaps to Suzanne’s vulva. I rimmed Suzanne until the slapping ceased then transferred my oral attention upward.

Once again, the object of my oral affection was primed and it wasn’t long before Suzanne proved she belonged to that select group of women who scream their way to orgasm.


***



“This next part is called Slave Sodomy. Its how male slaves in the old South were sodomised by master,” said Marshall. “Get on your knees and put the side of your face flat on the floor.”

I heard him in spite of the negative way my hearing had been affected when Suzanne hit the Big O and celebrated by crushing my head between her muscular thighs as she screamed curses and flopped around like a landed marlin. Connie maintained her position straddling a bucking Suzanne with a death grip on her nipples that left them an inch longer than before.

My Uncle Larry was a Civil War buff who taught American History at Vincennes University. He’d even written several books on the subject but somehow I doubted he had ever heard of Slave Sodomy.

“Tom, turn your head to face Jean,” said Ralph.

When I turned, Jean’s face was no more than six inches away. Ralph put his hands on the back of our heads and slid us together until our lips were touching.

“Jean, share with Tom,” said Marshall from his position at Jean’s rear.

Jean smiled, pressed her lips against mine. Instinctively, I opened my mouth. Jean spat several tablespoons of a viscous liquid into my mouth. Its salty flavor gave it away.

“Enjoy your snowball, Tom,” said Ralph. Fortunately, snowball was already defined in my slang dictionary. Several of the girls I dated in high school were snowball enabled. Still, those snowballs had been composed of my very own semen where this was Ralph’s or Marshall’s, perhaps a little of both.

I showed my snowball savvy by spitting the contents of my mouth back into Jean’s. We repeated the swap several times before we engaged in a lustful spate of serious tongue kissing and face licking that left both our mouths covered in spunk.

Jean stuck out her tongue and licked her lips then grinned at me. She seemed to have the capacity to enjoy anything as long as it involved sex.

I felt a finger touch my anus then smear it with a lubricant. I could see Connie was working on Jean’s butthole so Suzanne must be doing mine. The right side of face was pressed against the carpet. My rear was pointed toward the ceiling. A finger entered my hole and worked its way in a circle. Suzanne took hold of my cock and wanked it as she inserted a second finger.

“Ever been cornholed, Tom,” asked Ralph placing his hands on my buttocks spreading my cheeks.

I had never even heard the term cornholed before but given the context and the fact the word contained the four-letter word hole; I understood what he meant. “Only with a dildo,” I answered.

“Well, It’s my lucky day. I get your cherry. You’re in for a treat,” said Ralph. “Isn’t he Suzanne?”

“He’ll love it. Tom’s got a tight hole,” said Suzanne working her lubricant coated fingers around the inside of my rectum stretching my sphincter. “Tommy’s a lucky slave because Ralph loves to bareback white boys their first time.”

I could feel Jean’s breath on my face as she moaned in response to whatever Connie was doing to her sphincter. Suzanne had several fingers in mine and they were in contact with my prostate so I joined Jean in a chorus of moans.

“He’s ready,” said Suzanne pulling her fingers out of my ass.

A moment later Ralph placed his foot on the side of my face pinning my head to the floor. It was dog style with a difference. Ralph had one knee on the floor behind me. His other leg was angled across my back with the sole of his foot covering the side of my face. Jean’s face was pressed to the carpet by Marshall’s foot. Somebody, I assume was Suzanne, was wanking my penis performing long smooth strokes that began at the base of my balls and ended when her fingers slipped off the tip of my dick.

I felt a blunt object knocking on my backdoor. It knocked twice then went on in causing me to groan.

“Hear that,” asked Ralph? “There’s no sweeter sound than the one a white man makes when a black cock glides into his ass.”

I moaned my agreement as Ralph went as deep as he could while using one hand to separate my buttocks. At maximum depth, he savored the moment twisting his hips to make me feel the presence of his cock in my lower bowel.

“Stirring your shit, Tom,” said Ralph making short thrusts.

“Black balls and white balls, I just love to play with balls,” said Suzanne as she playfully wrapped both her hand around our scrotums and gently pressed them together.

For reasons unknown, I found this marriage of testicles extremely erotic. “Oh, that’s so nice,” I moaned as Suzanne played handball with one hand while she gave my cock long slow strokes with the other. She had a way of coming off the tip that was driving me insane.

After a few rounds of ball play, she maneuvered her head between my legs to take the head of my cock in her mouth for a tongue wash. She formed her lips on the underside of my mushroom and locked on tight, whipping her tongue over the piss hole. Only the cock ring kept me from draining my balls in her mouth.

In spite of Ralph’s foot, I could see Marshall was identically mounted on Jean.

“In Dixieland, the Master robbed his male slaves of their manhood and dignity by sodimising them in the middle of the cotton fields while the other slaves watched,” said Ralph. “It degraded the black man in the eyes of his family and people.”

“Jean, this does not pertain directly to you; but we thought you’d still love a good ass fucking,” said Marshall whose cock was gracing the inside of Jean’s rectum. Connie was on her back between Jean’s legs licking her clit.

“I adore a good ass fucking,” said Jean her voice distorted by the weight of Marshall’s foot pressing her mouth into the carpet.

“That’s not strictly true, Marshall,” said Ralph who at the moment would be robbing me of my manhood if we were in the middle of a field surrounded by a throng of Caucasian cotton pickers. “Masters frequently sodomized female slaves while working in the field.”

Their conversation was causing me to consider Southern agriculture in a different light.

“I know that but female slaves expected the Master to sodomize them. They didn’t feel degraded by the act,” said Marshall.

“Wouldn’t bother me in the least to have my face shoved down in the dirt with a white man sticking his dick in my butt while everyone watched,” said Connie. “How about you, Suzanne?”

“I’d feel mighty proud especially if my husband and family were there to see me taking Master up my ass,” said Suzanne taking my cock out of her mouth to comment.

I later learned Marshall and Ralph worked together at a brokerage firm in downtown Indianapolis. Connie was assistant principal of an inner city middle school and Suzanne was a hospital administrator. Yet, they seemed to know a lot about the sexual practices of, as they liked to call it, Dixie.

However, I agree there is something incredibly degrading about having the sole of a foot pressed along the side of your face while you’re being fucked. I suppose it symbolized being under the Master’s boot. He was not only invading your person in a most intimate way, he was driving his point home by holding your head down with his bare sole.

Of course, in some cultures, sodimising a reluctant male is considered a way of displaying cultural superiority and dominance. One of my college friends was arrested for possession on spring break in Cancun. The Federales took all his dope and money, beat the shit out of him, and butt fucked his ass for hours before taking him back to his hotel. He spent some time in therapy recovering from the mental anguish of being repeatedly ass fucked in the prison courtyard while several hundred Mexicans cheered.

On the other hand being degraded sexually was why white people like me joined the club. Corrine and I were there for sex, humiliation, and degradation, not necessarily in that order. My cock was hard as a rock and if there hadn’t been a leather strap baring my sperm from escaping I would have blasted Suzanne’s tonsils.

“Lick my foot, Slave,” said Marshall relaxing the pressure so Jean could turn her head slightly to pass her tongue along the underside.

“You too, Tom,” said Ralph following his lead.

There was definitely something hyper erotic about licking Ralph’s sole while he fucked my ass. Corrine agreed with me when we discussed it afterwards. Ralph and Marshall picked up the pace, pounding away. I was grunting like a pig each time Ralph’s penis make a trip. They both finished in a frenzy of ass pounding, punctuated by curses and stinging open palmed slaps to our flanks.

When a sweating, out of breath Ralph allowed his cock to soften and pop out of my anus, I felt a trickle of warm semen drip down on my balls. Suzanne stayed in place for a minute capturing the seepage with her open mouth. Definitely hard-core take-no-prisoners sex I decided. Jerome’s crew could have learned some things from those four.

It was Marshall and Ralph’s second orgasm in a half hour. Afterwards, Corrine and I concluded chemical support was required given the number of times the male examiners blew their load during the examination.

To keep up in the future, I made a mental note to call our GP and get him to write me an ED prescription to get me through those occasions when I was expected to blast multiple orgasms.


***


It was break time. Bob and the others came into the room. They must have finished a little earlier. He offered everyone bottled water or soda from a cooler he was carrying.

“How are you holding up,” asked Corrine taking a sip when we had a private moment?

“Fine, see,” I answered moving my hips to cause my still hard cock to bob up and down. “You?”

“Excellent, I was a little worried when they separated us.”

“Jean’s doing great. She’s very uninhibited. How’s Ted?”

“The same. Are you excited?” said Corrine.

“Yes, I may blow a hole in the wall when I finally get to come,” I said.

After the break, Jean and I swapped rooms and Masters with Ted and Corrine. Once again, I was surprised.

“Come here, handsome. Let’s see if you’re a good kisser,” said Martin gesturing for me to step closer. I hesitated a second before stepping into his arms. We kissed for a few seconds then Bob took his turn.

Rachel and Carol had positioned Jean on the bed. She was lying on her back with her head hanging off. At the moment, her face was between a standing Rachel’s legs. Carol, rather obligingly was on the bed between Jean’s legs eating her pussy.

“You’re a good kisser, Tom,” said Bob making a note on the clipboard.

“Not all the Masters are top men. A slave has to be versatile,” said Martin as he handed me a plastic bottle of lubricant then climbed on the bed on all fours with his rear pointed in my direction. He rested the side of his face on the bed as he reached back with both hands and spread his buttocks.

“Eat it, Tom,” said Bob standing close by. His hand was on my bottom rubbing my cheeks. If this wasn’t gay sex I didn’t know what it was. Gayness is a concern for men like myself who consider themselves heterosexual. But at that moment, it wasn’t gay sex. It was just sex.

So for me, it was an afternoon of firsts, especially in a homosexual sense. I went to my knees and pressed my mouth against Martin’s sphincter applying lips and tongue with real enthusiasm. There’s no gender difference in working an asshole open with your mouth and tongue fucking it. I rooted like a pig in a vegetable garden as I burrowed my face in Martin’s crack.

“That’s enough, Tom,” said Bob placing his hand on my shoulder. “Now, lube his hole and fuck it.”

I had absolutely no problem following directions. After I loosed his anal ring with my fingers, I placed my dick in the center of his anus, took a firm grip on his hips, and pushed. Once I was in the backdoor, I charged all the way to the basement. From the little mewling sounds, Martin was making, I could tell he loved it.

I had a good motion going when Bob took the lubricant bottle out of my hand.

“Lean forward, we’re making an Oreo,” said Bob as he inserted a slippery finger in my butthole.

A moment later, Bob’s cock was in my ass. My cock was in Martin’s. I was the white filling between two black halves. Bob’s hands grasped my chest, pinching my nipples hard. This particular part of the test ended when Bob pumped his load in my bottom.

I spent the next two hours having sex in more positions than I could later recall. It pretty much covered the gamut of sexual possibilities with two males and two females. I could tell our examiners were pleased.

“You certainly don’t have any hang-ups,” said Martin as he pulled his cock out of Rachel’s ass and inserted it in my mouth. I was underneath Rachel in a sixty-nine eating her cunt while Martin plowed her ass. “Some candidates balk at ass to mouth action.”

“I like the taste,” added Jean whose mouth was working on Bob’s cock that had most recently resided deep in Carol’s rectum.

Partners and positions keep changing. One minute I would be pounding away between Rachel’s legs with Bob’s cock in my mouth. A quarter hour later, I was sucking Martin’s cock while Carol was combining a prostate massage with a hand job.

“You four form a daisy chain,” said Bob when the others joined us.

Our examiners took a break to compare notes while I ate Jean’s pussy while Corrine sucked my cock. I was getting tired but I told myself to suck it up for the ending when they brought the four of us together.

For the finale, they removed Ted and my cock rings. That was an incredible relief. Ted and I were told to lie across the beds.

“Jean, climb on Tom facing his feet. Corrine, you mount Ted,” said Bob.

Jean’s mess of a pussy descended on my face as she took my cock in her mouth. I didn’t last long. Neither did Ted. I blew my load in long spurts that Jean gulped down as they arrived.

While we dressed, Bob gathered up the clipboards and tabulated our scores. We got the good news before we left. Both couples had achieved a passing grade. The only hurdle remaining was our Initiation. Instructions would arrive by mail.



***


I slept most of the drive home after exchanging a few words with Corrine about the examination.

“We got in. Are you pleased?” asked Corrine as we drove away from the Longwood. I could tell she was very pleased.

“Pleased but exhausted. Sex exams are tiring,” I said tilting my seat back.

“I was a little concerned you might have a problem with all the guy sex,” said Corrine. “I hadn’t expected there would be so much Down Low.”

I questioned the term. “What is Down Low?”

“Down Low is a slang term. It refers to men who have sex with other men but who consider themselves neither bisexual nor homosexual,” said Corrine. “It’s primarily refers to African American males.”

“Oh, and where did you learn this,” I asked realizing her definition did not make quite make sense.

“Ted, he and Jean have been wife swapping with a black couple. That’s how they learned about the club,” said Corrine.

“The only thing that surprised me was kissing Bob and Martin but I recovered quickly. I’d never made out with a guy. Martin said I was a good kisser.”

“Martin is right,” said Corrine offering the kind of psychological support a good wife considers her duty.

The conversation lulled and I fell asleep. It seemed like I’d been asleep only a few seconds when Corrine announced, “We’re home.”

“I’m going straight to bed without passing Go,” I said when we reached our bedroom and started undressing.

“I’ll second the motion,” said Corrine uncharacteristically dropping her clothes in a pile by the bed as she undressed. Usually, she’s such a neat freak and hangs everything up.

We slipped under the covers naked and turned off the light. I figured I’d be asleep as soon as I closed my eyes. A four-hour sex exam sure wears a guy out. Corrine rolled over and I spooned against her warm backside.

Just as I about to drift off, my nose detected body fluids. Both of us were coated with dried saliva, sweat, semen and female secretions topped off with a layer of pheromones. We should have showered and I considered getting up and rinsing off; but I couldn’t summon the will to get up out of the warm bed.

I inhaled drawing the scent of old sex deep into my lungs. I felt my cock start to harden.

“What are you doing,” asked Corrine pressing her bottom against my incipient hardon?

“Smelling pussy and cock,” I replied before inhaling deeper.

Corrine took a deep breath before answering. “That’s a blend of six pussies and six cocks.”

“I wonder if you fuck enough people, you can get to be like one of those wine tasters who can tell the year and name of the vineyard by taking a sip. I can smell Ralph’s semen in your hair,” I said inhaling deeply.

“You’re sure it’s not Bob’s,” asked Corrine turning around to face me.

I kissed her as I pressed my erect penis against her belly. I placed my fingers on her clit and rubbed down into her opening. It felt sticky. “This is Bob’s,” I said bringing my fingers to my nose.

“You’re full of shit, Tom Meade. You’ve got Connie’s cunt all over your face,” said Corrine licking my lips. “I also detect the odor of Marshall’s penis.”

That was as far as the conversation progressed before the two of us lost all pretense of control. I wasn’t tired, anymore. I had the energy of a nine year old. I kicked the down comforter off and dove head first toward the foot of the bed. I grabbed Corrine’s legs and rolled her on top of me burrowing my face in her fabulous smelling snatch.

She was sucking my cock and licking my balls all the while inhaling my scents and urging me to, “Eat her fucking filthy pussy”.

Corrine and I were no strangers to great sex but that night established a new gold standard. I was intoxicated by her taste and smell. I couldn’t think or function other than sexually.

When I finally climbed on top and pushed my cock in what was the hottest, wettest, and tightest cunt on the planet, I never wanted it to end. We fucked for what seemed like hours before I deposited what felt like a quart of come in her dirty filthy beautiful hole. It was like my butt cheeks were filled with semen and I was draining them dry.

I know that’s all bullshit but it was one hell of a fuck, the greatest ever.

We both lay there panting. It was Corrine who spoke first.

“I guess joining the club was a good idea.”

Chapter 17 Initiation


When you join a sex club you had better be prepared for a lot of sex, I told myself as I crawled between Nadine Reynolds’ ebony thighs. Nadine had thoughtfully placed a pillow under her hips and spread her legs wide apart so I wouldn’t have any trouble eating her.

Corrine and I were back at the Longwood Motor Court undergoing the second part of our initiation into Club BM&WS. After part one, Orientation, we were being welcomed with four one-hour sessions where we were expected to sexually service a different black couple during each hour.

According to the literature we received in the mail, the Club considered the afternoon a combination of welcome and training. The afternoon was intended to give us a sampling of what to expect at the monthly meetings.

The first couple was our sponsors, Scott and Nadine Reynolds. Scott was also my criminal lawyer who luckily we had never had to go to trial with. I strongly suspected he had been screwing my wife behind my back.

That point was moot soon since Corrine was right beside me preparing to take Scott’s fully erect black cock in her mouth.

Nadine was one of those buxom black women with big tits and a matching butt. She was certainly aggressive and seemed to have a real thing for white men. She’d been all over me from the moment Corrine and I walked through the door.

At her direction, I’d just spent time sucking on her oversized nipples bringing them to a state of extreme readiness. Between the cock ring and the erectile dysfunction pills my doctor had prescribed I was also in state of extreme readiness. I was so hard you could strike a match on my dick.

As my face reached her sex, I took an exploratory swipe of my tongue across her clit she’d exposed for me by parting the thick folds of her labia. I grabbed the nubbin of flesh in my lips and pulled it out so I could suck it. I inhaled her musky aroma as I worked on her mini-dick. I’ll go to my grave believing black pussy smells different than white; even though I’ve been told a hundred times it all smells the same.

“White boys love eating pussy, especially a black woman’s pussy” said Nadine placing her hands on the side of my head to pull me hard against her sex, arching her back in reaction to my warm mouth on her sensitive flesh. I found myself coming around to her idea there was something special about the way an ebony snatch tasted, smelled, and even felt.

“Nadine once dated a white boy in college, a real Georgia cracker, a dye-in-the-wool nigger hating redneck,” said Scott as he gently pushed my wife down toward his crotch. Nadine had a liberal arts degree from Emory University in Atlanta where according to her she majored in getting racist white boys to do down on her while one of her girl friends took images for the college Web site.

It was something her husband Scott took a certain amount of pride in. “The cracker once ate her snatch while his red neck frat brothers watched.”

“Harvey hated black people but he loved the taste of chocolate,” said Nadine before offering me an incentive. “Eat me nice, Tom, and I’ll let you fuck me.”

“Yeah, Cory baby, suck my dick. You know how I like it,” breathed Nadine’s husband Scott as Corrine took his cock in her mouth and swirled her tongue over the head. His last comment confirmed my suspicion he and Corrine had been getting it on.

Scott’s deep sonorous voice sounded a lot like Barry White. That undoubtedly contributed to his success in the courtroom and in getting white woman like Corrine to spread their legs for him.

Corrine was practicing her yoga trick of doubling one leg underneath her allowing her vulva to rest on the side of her foot, a practice she claimed to have learned from the Kama Sutra. A rocking motion permitted her hands free masturbation. Scott’s shaft and balls were getting her full manual as well as oral attention while she was giving her clit a massage with her insole. My wife is a very talented woman.

My leg was pressed against Corrine’s as we performed orally on the Reynolds. For reason’s unknown, we both found it erotic to be touching while having sex with others.

“Don’t neglect my heinie, Tom,” said Nadine raising her legs to indicate analingus was expected.

I burrowed my face between her meaty buttocks, my lips seeking her bull’s eye. My tongue circled the slightly raised circumference clockwise and counter clockwise before zeroing in on the opening. I placed the tip of my tongue dead center of her sphincter. I hesitated a split second to relish the experience. A strong push and once more, my tongue was up a black woman’s ass.

“Good boy,” said Nadine reaching down to grab her buttocks and pull them apart allowing me to go deeper.

The letter announcing our acceptance into the club arrived within a week after our examination at the Longwood. We already knew we’d made the grade but the letter made it official. The manila envelope also contained information about our initiation along with forms we had to complete and bring with us.

I hadn’t realized there was an initiation so I asked Corrine as I handed her the letter. “What‘s involved?” As usual she was fully briefed. I assume by Scott Reynolds who I’d come to realize had guided our every step along the path for joining the club.

I rationalized that if Scott and Corrine were having an affair, it was my fault. If I hadn’t gambled and wound up being owned by Al Quarles, Corrine and I would still be a monogamous couple. I’d sworn never to reproach her for whatever happened as a result.

And since I got off watching her with black men my only legitimate complaint was she wasn’t letting me be a spectator. The fact my sex life was nothing short of incredible was also a factor in my acquiescence. Regardless of how we became members, I found sex with black men and women an unbelievable turn on. I didn’t care who Corrine humped as long as I participated along with her.

Corrine opened the envelope, examined the contents and read the brief note announcing we were accepted as members in Black Masters and White Slaves and could participate fully as soon as we were initiated.

“There will be an orientation session at the start of the initiation. The club’s president will go over the rules. That’ll last about an hour. It’s a good time to ask any questions you might have. Then they take our pictures for the club’s Web site,” said Corrine.

“What kind of pictures,” I asked?

“Revealing ones, here you need to fill this out,” said Corrine handing me a sheet of paper with a large number of items to check and a place at the end for me to write a paragraph about how I eager I was to serve the sexual needs of my black masters.

“I’m not happy with the idea of having nude pictures of us on the Web for the world to see,” I said looking at the paper.

“Only club members can access the Web site. Its password protected,” said Corrine.

“Will we have a password?”

“Yes, but there are different levels of access depending on whether you are a master or a slave,” said Corrine.

“What’s this all about,” I asked holding up the form.

“It’s your sexual profile. You get the male version. I get the female. Let’s fill them out together,” said Corrine handing me a pencil.

“Name is easy enough,” I said filling in the top line of the form. “But what do they mean by slave name?”

“Some members might choose to have a different slave name than their real name,” said Corrine.

“Sounds too confusing, I’m sticking with Tom,” I said.

“Tom sounds like a slave name but I’m going to put down Cory,” said Corrine. “Cory, the white slave girl who loves being used by her black Masters.”

I filled in my height and weight along with my hair and eye color. I entered eight inches as my cock length and checked the box indicating I was circumcised. “Top, bottom, or versatile,” I read aloud. “Which am I?”

“Check versatile,” said Corrine. “That means you can both pitch and catch.”

“I’m not sure that’s true. I’ve screwed one another man in the ass and that was Martin, last week.” I don’t know whom I was trying to fool, my wife or me. The club’s examination had shown I could fuck men as well as women. However, I still had problems letting go of my illusion I was a straight eight guy not a fairy

“And how was it for you,” asked Corrine? “As I recall, Martin loved it.”

“Since my hard on was enforced by the cock ring, I’m not sure. It felt good.” Martin had moaned and jerked his cock as I buggered him. I liked screwing Martin. And I also got off when I was the catcher but I wasn’t quite ready to admit it to Corrine or myself.

“You’ve screwed me in the ass and you butt banged Connie and Rachel,” said Corrine speaking as she was writing. “You got off on that.”

“That’s different,” I said. “You have a beautiful ass.”

“Thanks, you’re sweet. It says at the bottom of the form you can change your profile online so just put down versatile for now and if it turns out you don’t like buggery, change it later,” said Corrine.

“All right,” I said checking the box. There was an impressively long list of BDS&M activities like spanking, whipping, cock and ball torture, nipple clamps, etc. There were two columns with two choices each. One column indicated your willingness to experience the activity, the other to perform the action. I was universally no to experience but yes to perform. If some black male or female wanted me to put a pair of alligator clamps on their nips, I could handle it but I preferred to keep my buds clamp free.

“Why you little painslut,” I said to Corrine, later, when we were editing each other’s profile for mistakes. She had opted for pretty much the entire BDS&M menu.

“Don’t be judgmental. I want to experience new things,” she said.

I’d completely nixed the fetish list for enemas, water sports and scat. Playing in somebody else’s shit or even mine did not strike me as something I was up for. Rubber, latex, and infantilism were also on my no list. Then I came back to one I’d skipped because I wanted to discuss it with Corrine.

“Cross dressing, what do you think,” I asked?

“I checked it. But I doubt there is female Master who wants a diesel dyke slave. But you never know,” said Corrine giving me a knowing look. “Or maybe one of the Masters likes to have a white woman dressed as a man do him with a strapon.”

“What does it mean if I check it,” I asked?

“It means a Master could expect you to show up dressed as a girl or dress you as a girl himself. There’s also Forced Feminization under the fetish category,” said Corrine looking at my form. “You might want to check that also.”

“You okay with it,” I asked wondering how Corrine would react to me in drag? I’d never admitted it to her or anyone but occasionally dressing in her underwear and clothes was a major turn on. Unfortunately, she didn’t have much I could wear. I’m not a big man but Corrine is a Size 6.

“Sure, I’ll even help you find something to wear, Thomasina,” said Corrine calling me by the feminine form of my name.

“It might be something I want to try,” I said mentally wrestling with the thought I was out of control sexually.

“If you check it and the Master specifies it, you won’t have a choice when we’re on booty call,” said Corrine.

“We’ll be on booty call,” I asked? That was a possibility I hadn’t heard before.

“Only for one weekend every three months,” said Corrine. “The Club gives us a pager. If a Master couple pages us, we have to go.”

“Sounds interesting,” I said. Being summoned to a black couple’s house for sex struck me as erotic. And arriving dressed as a woman made my cock immediately hard.

Corrine carefully checked our forms then faxed them to what we assumed was the Club’s headquarters. Anxious to start, she picked the first Saturday available.

We arrived on time at the designated Longwood motel room where we were met by the club co-presidents, Dan and April. Apparently, the office of club president always consisted of a man and wife.

They were another good-looking black couple. As I found out later, appearance was an important factor in member selection. April was the taller of the two. She was well over six feet with a willowy figure and extremely long legs I immediately pictured wrapped around my waist as I thrust into her. Her short skirt showed them off. Dan was my height and also slender. It turned out they were both runners who had just returned from competing in the Boston Marathon. Months later, at one of the monthly parities, I learned April was dominant and Dan submissive.

After a brief check of our driver’ license to confirm our identity, we got down to business.

“Undress and put your clothes in these,” said Dan handing us two shopping bags for our clothes.

Once we were nude, our indoctrination began. We had to sign a form relieving the club of any responsibility if we were injured or contracted an STD. There was also a pledge of secrecy for us to sign.

“I see you’re both into strapon sex,” said April after glancing at the completed profile forms we’d handed her. April got busy entering our profiles with her laptop while Dan used his to access the Web site to create our login and password.

“All the rules of slavery are in the slaves pages of the Web site,” said Dan showing us how to select the Slave’s’ Rulebook. There was a Master’s Rulebook but it was only accessible to users with a Master’s login.

As slaves, we were expected to attend at least nine of the next twelve monthly meetings. Our membership would be suspended if we missed more than three meetings in twelve. However, if we had a really good reason such as illness or business, we could appeal.

One weekend every three months we were on booty call from six Friday evening until six Sunday evening. We were expected to respond to any master who paged us.

“You can expect forty eight hours of sexual slavery,” commented April.

“A key requirement is that you perform consistent with your profile. If you checked No to being whipped, you can refuse to be whipped. But if you checked Yes and refuse, the Master can file a complaint and your membership could be suspended,” said Dan.

“Suppose you agree to a No just this once,” I asked?

“That’s okay. Sometimes we all like to try new things,” said Dan.

There were a host of other rules about personal hygiene and maintaining an attractive appearance. One way to get kicked out of the club was to gain weight.

“What if I decide to get pregnant and go off birth control,” asked Corrine?

“That depends on whether you want to have Tom’s baby or let one of the Masters impregnate you,” said Dan looking sly.

“Don’t be an ass, Dan,” said April. “You can suspend your membership until you are pregnant. And later, you can become inactive when you get close to your date.”

“Some of the Masters have a real thing for pregnant white women. I know I do,” said Dan exercising the keyboard then turning the laptop screen toward us. “Here, take a look at Slave Denise.”

Denise was a diminutive brunette with large brown eyes and a slim figure except for her abdomen. Denise’s husband was kneeling beside her with his hand draped over her belly. They were both nude. ‘Inactive’ was printed at the bottom of the image.

“That was taken about a month ago,” said April. “She and Roger had a son last week, Samuel Elliot.”

“One of the Masters is the baby’s father,” said Dan changing the laptop image to that of an infant. “We’re all trying to figure out who he looks like.”

“Denise chose to let the Masters impregnate her,” said April. “That’s not common but Denise and Roger have a strong commitment to the club.”

I kept my mouth shut but I had no intention of allowing anyone besides me to knock up Corrine. That was my job.

Questions answered, we posed for our Web pictures. It was very basic and to my professional’s way of thinking, lacking, but I suppose it served the purpose. A bed sheet was taped to the wall in front of a tripod mounted digital camera.

We posed for frontal, side and rear then we were done.

“Always remember the cardinal rule,” said Dan ending our orientation. “You are the slave and must do as you are told.”

“And as slaves, you should expect hard treatment from some masters,” said April.

“But hopefully, they will respect your limits as stated in your profile,” said Dan.

“These are the rooms you will spend the next four hours,” said April handing us a printed list of the four Master couples we would be serving that afternoon. I wasn’t surprised to see Scott and Nadine Reynolds were our first appointment. Corrine had said it was traditional our first Masters were our sponsors. Dan used his cell phone to confirm they were nearby and waiting.

I started to pick up the shopping bag expecting to redress for the short trip from Room No. 118 to Room No. 325. The Longwood was an older motel with three floors and the rooms opened to the outside.

“You’re not allowed to dress. Your clothes will be waiting for you at your last appointment,” said Dan taking the shopping bag from my hand.

“How do we get there,” I asked not realizing what was expected?

“Go out the door and turn left. There’s a stairwell at the end,” said Dan smiling.

“Or you can take the elevator,” said April.

“Come on,” said Corrine before I could protest.

Chapter 18 Marathon Afternoon


We almost made it to our first couple without being seen. However, when the elevator door opened on the third floor, there was a family of four waiting: mother, father, son, and daughter. That was embarrassing especially since my prescription had taken effect and I had eight inches of good wood sustained by a cock ring. From their facial expressions I could tell both mother and teen-age daughter were impressed.

Their son asked, “What was that black thing around his thing?” as we rushed past them toward Room No. 325. I would have loved to stay and see how Mom and Dad answered that one.

Scott took his sweet time opening the door. Traveling between rooms nude turned out to be SOP for the remainder of the afternoon. I was surprised someone didn’t call the police or complain to the manager since we passed other guests on three of our four dashes between rooms. The Longwood was located on a busy street and several passing motorists sounded their horn and waved at the naked white couple moving quickly down the outdoor walkway.

Later when we had a chance to discuss the day’s events, Corrine and I discovered we both considered walking nude between rooms a turn on. There was a streak of exhibitionism buried within us that being a sex slave brought out. As a result, we were both ready for action when Scott stood aside so we could pass.

“Down on your knees, Slaves,” said Scott in a serious tone reminding me once again slaves should expect harsh treatment.

As I fell to the carpet, I saw a black woman I assumed was his wife, Nadine, standing nearby wearing an oversized strapon. It was my first look at Scott’s wife and she was an imposing woman, tall and muscular. She’d gone to college on an athletic scholarship in track and field. The web of nylon straps securing the dildo to her crotch made her all the more impressive.

“I’m Nadine, welcome to Black Masters and White Slaves, Tom. I’ve already met you wife. Now, suck my black dick and make be believe you love doing it.”

Nadine had taken a position towering over me. The dildo was bobbing up and down. The head looked bigger than my mouth. However, I wanted to make a good first impression so I maxed open my jaw hinge and wrapped my lips around the head.

I enthusiastically sucked Nadine’s fake dick for several minutes while Corrine worked on Scott’s real one. There was no need for me to fake anything. I was turned on in every way possible. Nadine’s vagina was releasing pheromones my olfactory nerves were transforming into lust as quickly as they arrived.

After a few minutes of mouth worshipping her artificial penis, Scott and Nadine switched slaves. I formed my lips over Scott’s penis; conscious its generous saliva coating came from my wife.

It turned out I was having it easy compared to Corrine. I heard her choke and gag as she attempted to play sword swallower with Nadine’s fake dick. “Try again, Cory. Show me how much you want to please your Mistress,” said Nadine.

My peripheral vision revealed she had hold of Corrine’s head and was forcing the dildo down her throat. Over our many encounters with Master couples I noticed a tendency for the black female to be brutal with the white female. I suppose they had their reasons. Corrine never complained; in fact she got off on it.

“That’s a good boy, Tom. Corrine said you loved sucking licorice sticks and I can see she’s right,” said Scott as I did my utmost to please him orally. If he’d reviewed all the evidence I gave him, he’d watched me suck Morgan’s cock multiple times. Scott was a shrewd lawyer and astute judge of human nature. He knew what I was all about.

As for me, I was making serious mouth love to his sex organ. He had a beautiful cock with an impressive pair of balls I enjoyed taking in my mouth one at a time and sucking. The dark chocolate shaft ended in a classic reddish brown mushroom head who’s under lip was perfect for locking your lips around while you tongue washed the tip and diddled the piss hole. It was the kind of perfect Afro American cock a white slave like me could temporarily fall in love with.

“I said take it all, white bitch,” demanded Nadine angrily who was standing over Corrine aiming her strapon almost straight down in her throat. Nadine had one hand embedded in Corrine’s hair forcing her head back while the other had a grip on her lower jaw pulling her mouth open. Although the width and length of the strapon made it seem unlikely it would fit in Corrine’s throat, I could see it was halfway home. Unfortunately, that was as much as Corrine could take on that try and Nadine was forced to pull out.

I was surprised by the sound of someone being slapped. When I glanced over I could see the side of Corrine’s face was red. That was when I recalled Corrine had checked yes to Forced Oral on her profile form.

“Sorry, Mistress Nadine,” said my usually proud wife in her most humble and contrite voice.

“You better take it all this time, bitch,” said Nadine once again taking hold of Corrine’s hair and jaw to force her mouth open.

I provided Scott my best effort while I listened to the sound of Corrine gagging. It took several more attempts punctuated by loud slaps before finally, Nadine announced, “Look everyone. The stupid white whore’s swallowed it.”

I saw something amazing when I glanced in their direction. Ever watched one of those nature shows where the python opens its mouth to swallow something that appears impossible? That was how Corrine looked with Nadine’s strapon fully inserted in her obviously swollen throat. I had to hand it to Corrine. I could never have done it.

Where I’d only been required to lick and suck on the dildo’s mushroom head, Nadine had forced it all the way down Corrine’s gullet. The sight of that large black column of faux cock with its realistic veins embedded deep in her throat looked truly bizarre. My wife’s mouth was opened to the max allowed by her jaw hinges. Her crotch was pressed against Corrine’s chin.

“Hold her still, baby,” said Scott grabbing a small digital camera off the bed table. The subject of personal photography had never come up but since I was a slave I wasn’t in a position to object. Besides I couldn’t talk with Scott’s dick in my mouth. Nadine smiled at the camera as Scott clicked through several frames.

Images captured, Nadine pulled the dildo out of Corrine’s throat allowing her to collapse to the floor gasping for air.

“Water break,” announced Scott reaching in a small cooler for bottles of cold Evian water.

They allowed us to drink some water and catch our breath before going on to the next act.

“This is terrific. Isn’t it?” whispered Corrine as we shared a cool drink.

“Yes, its fantastic,” I replied and I meant it. If someone had asked me pre Al Quarles if I thought Corrine and I would get off on being badly abused sex slaves for a domineering black couple, I would have thought they were crazy for asking. But after we stared in Morgan’s abyss, it stared right back into us and we had both changed big time.

“Break over, assume the position of submission,” announced Scott enjoying the way the phrase rolled off his tongue.

Somehow I intuited he meant Slave Sodomy. I leaned forward putting the side of my face on the carpet facing Corrine as I raised my bottom toward the ceiling. I dutifully reached back to pull my butt cheeks apart offering my hole to Master Scott.

During my previous experience with Slave Sodomy, I’d been too distracted by the competitiveness of the examination to truly appreciate the utter humiliation of having another person’s bare foot on your face while he or she was sodimising you. It speaks directly to your helplessness and degradation. Maybe it was a practice handed down from ante-bellum Southern slave owners. It makes you wonder how any cotton ever got picked.

I felt something wet land on my sphincter then being smeared about by Scott’s cockhead. Unlike my examination when my anus had been prepared for invasion, Scott placed his manhood at the center of my spit covered opening, grabbed my hips and pushed hard. My rectum screamed in pain as it was forced to accept the length of his penis in a split second.

I exhaled in an attempt to control the spasms associated with having a sizeable black cock thrust deep into my ass with an absolute minimum of preparation. I begged my body to relax as my lower abdomen suffered muscle wrenching spasmodic contractions. But the body has an amazing ability to adapt. Months later, after attending several club meetings, I could take the biggest cock without feeling anything but pleasure.

Corrine grimaced as Nadine forced an even large column into her rectum. Disregarding my profile’s prohibition against pain, Scott delivered a painful swat to my flank. As he began thrusting away, he followed up with several more than left my bottom on fire.

“You like that, Tom,” asked Scott after his open palm landed hard enough I wanted to scream? Somehow checking No by Spanking didn’t deter having my ass turned red during sodomy.

“Yes, Master Scott,” I said following proper protocol for addressing your club betters.

Corrine was enduring the same treatment from Nadine. She was hitting so hard Corrine was whimpering.

My lower GI tract finally relaxed allowing my grunts and whimpers to turn to moans. Just as I was feeling real pleasure and starting to groan each time he plumbed my depths, Scott’s hand grasped the base of my balls and gave them a not too gentle squeeze causing me to cry out in pain.

“I didn’t tell you to enjoy having my cock in your ass,” said Scott pulling and twisting my testicles.

“Yes, Master Scott,” I said struggling not to scream. I was starting to realize how correct April was when she said we slaves should expect brutality as the norm.

After a rash of pounding thrusts in which he mashed my face flat with his foot and manhandled my testicles, Scott released my balls and pulled out of butt. I felt movement behind me. I was about to learn Master couples shared ass fucking duties.

“Oh yes, Master Scott, fuck my ass,” moaned Corrine as Scott’s foot landed on the side of her face. Her tongue popped out the side of her mouth and began eagerly licking his sole. Almost simultaneously, Nadine’s foot landed on my face. The toes were wrapped around the top of my head and the heel was on my neck. She had big feet. I managed to windshield wipe the tip of my tongue along her insole.

Her very long and thick faux penis forced its way past my anal ring and didn’t stop until I felt the base smack against my nuts. My lower GI tract agonized over the new invasion. The head was somewhere inside my large intestine straightening out what used to be a ninety-degree angle. She signaled her satisfaction at fully penetrating my rear with an open palmed slap to my backside that made her husband’s seem like a love tap.

“That hurt, Mistress Nadine,” I whimpered once I recovered enough to speak. I’d screamed so loud I wondered how soundproof were the motel room’s walls. Apparently, guests at the Longwood minded their own business even if someone next door was screaming their lungs out.

“Good, it’s supposed to,” said Nadine smiling as she drew back her strapon manhood to where only the tip was inside me before plunging downward. Displaying a gift for coordinating her activity she delivered a second painful blow to my backside just as the base of the dildo slammed into my balls. I was hurting in multiple places so I screamed even louder.

“Tom’s a good screamer,” said Nadine delivering an unwelcome complement.

After a half dozen more bowel straightening thrusts synchronized with butt numbing open palm slap and a brutal pounding of my balls, she relented and established a nice smooth stroke. Nadine even had the decency to reach down and begin stroking my cock. In a state of considerable pleasure, I busied myself licking the sole of her foot as she fucked me in the ass. I was in white slave heaven as she worked my body.

At some point, the sodomy session ended. Nadine removed her strapon and we were invited onto the bed to orally serve our masters. And true to her word after I got her off, Nadine pulled me on top her, reached down to unsnap my cock ring then guided me inside her very wet and incredibly warm vagina. Corrine eased herself on Scott, guided his manhood into her hole and went for a ride.

Nadine and I engaged in some serious kissing as I ground my pubic bone against her clit. Her vagina performed on the same level as Corrine’s. Its strong muscular walls hugged my pecker demanding sperm. I happily fucked away until I ejaculated a considerable volume of semen in her hole as she climaxed.

Corrine was the recipient of Scott’s bounty at almost the same time. I thought we were done but not quite.

Nadine pushed me off her then rose up to a kneeling position. “Climb under me Cory and clean out Tom’s spunk.”

Corrine obediently rolled on her back and scooted under the V formed by Nadine’s legs. Once she determined her vagina and Corrine’s mouth were in alignment, Nadine took hold of her labia between thumb and forefinger and spread them apart opening her hole. I marveled as gobs of my sperm flowed out of Nadine into my wife’s eager mouth. Corrine had just eaten her first cream pie a la Tom.

Once the flow ended, she inserted her tongue in Nadine’s opening and began a noisy extraction of the dregs of my essence.

I found myself hungrily eyeing Corrine’s well-fucked pussy. There was a thin trickle of Scott’s fluid seeping out.

“Go ahead Tom. We know what you want,” said Scott gesturing toward Corrine’s sex. Given he had watched a evidence box of video discs showing me sucking Morgan’s spunk out of my wife’s vagina, I had to agree.

I also did not have to be told twice. After all, it was what got me started on the path to being a bisexual sex slave for black couples. I pressed my face to Corrine’s vagina and feasted. For me, this was what it was all about. Pressing my mouth over her just fucked cunt and using my tongue to transfer the recently deposited contents. I was in an advanced state of sexual ecstasy.

The hour was almost over when I looked up from Corrine’s now empty pussy.

“Vera and Paul are next, Room No 246,” said Nadine consulting her copy of our agenda. “You better get moving.”

We met a guy on the way there and the bastard had the balls to grab one of Corrine’s tits as we passed. She slapped his hand away, grabbed my hand and we ran to Room No. 246.

Vera and Paul turned out to be older. I’d guess later forties, maybe early fifties. Our hour with them turned out to be a kinder and gentler experience than we had with Scott and Nadine. They were both short in stature with compact lean bodies. Later I learned, Paul was a dentist and Vera worked in the same office as his dental hygienist.

The fact Paul was wearing hose, garter belt, and a thong panty struck me as odd as did the fact, he took me in his arms and kissed me as soon as we got in the room.

“Call me Mistress Pauline when you make love to me,” he whispered in my ear as he ended the kiss. Corrine and I spent an easy hour having homosexual sex with the pair. I never touched Vera and Corrine never laid a hand on Paul AKA Pauline.

Vera produced a double-ended dildo for them to share. With a little squirming and pulling, the two managed to bring their sexes into contact while being impaled on half of the fake cock. The sounds of two well-lubricated vulvas slapping against one another filled the room.

I surprised myself with the ease with which I accepted my role as Pauline’s male lover. He provided me oral gratification after a prolonged bout of kissing and stroking. Pauline was a gifted cocksucker and rimmer. Without my cock ring I would have blown my load down his sweet little throat.

That evolved to me taking him anally while he squealed and cooed in a bad imitation of a female in heat. He implored me to tell him how pretty he was and how much he turned me on. Like a good slave, I smothered his mouth with kisses as I said what he wanted to hear.

I sodomised him in multiple positions beginning with missionary then dog style then cowgirl (or is it cowboy) before we finished in missionary. We took it slow and by the time he took off my cock ring with his teeth, I was ready to explode.

After bending him double with his calves resting on my shoulders, I deposited a substantial load of fresh jism in his butthole or man pussy, as he liked to call it. After another water break, it was time for appointment number three.

We scurried off to Room No. 106 encountering a young couple on the elevator. The guy asked if we wanted to party with them but we respectively declined. He said he had some blow and was willing to share.

“Sorry, but we have places to go and people to fuck,” said Corrine hurrying toward our destination.

Marvin and Eileen were straight. Marvin owned an institutional food supplier and Eileen was a registered nurse. The lack of exotic sex was all right with me since Eileen was gorgeous, a black version of Corrine. And she had Corrine’s passionate nature and hold nothing back attitude when it came to sex. We coupled like a pair of jungle cats while big Marvin impaled Corrine on the largest dick she’d had since Kelso.

Marvin was NFL lineman large and his cock was in proportion to the rest of him. Still, Tom, the lapper of black pussy, did more than all right in bring Eileen to a screaming orgasm.

“Shit, fuck, eat my cunt, you white bastard,” was a small sample of the filth that poured out of Eileen’s mouth when I was using my mouth to get her off the first time.

All the while, Corrine was being treated like a rag doll as Marvin moved her through a dozen different positions like she was made of silly putty. He ended by bending her double as he crouched over her and plunged into her ass. Ever so often, he would pull out to admire the insides of her rectum. A view afforded by the fact, his huge cock was stretching her hole past the point it could snap closed immediately. During these poignant moments, he would release a gob of spit into the opening.

Barely over a half hour had transpired before I released a load in Eileen’s smoldering cunt and Marvin filled Corrine’s ass.

“Both cream pies are yours, Tom. I don’t do that kind of shit,” said Marvin standing by the bed wiping his cock with a hand towel. Obviously Marvin had read my profile.

Technically, sucking jism out of your wife’s ass (or anybody’s) is not eating a cream pie but felching. However, it wasn’t my place to correct a Master especially one Marvin’s size.

“Lay on your back, Tom, and let your head hang off the bed,” said Eileen climbing off the bed. Corrine stood up also. “You go first, Cory. Don’t swallow until I say so, Tom.”

Corrine straddled my face as she crouched down to where her butthole was close enough for me to cover her sphincter with my mouth. She contracted her abdomen and Marvin’s semen filled my mouth. Eileen quickly took Cory’s place and my essence joined Marvin’s.

“That’s called a vanilla and chocolate Sunday,” said Eileen proving to me there is always something new and delightful to learn.

I held the jism combo for a few seconds waiting for Mistress Eileen to issue her command.

“Now swap it back and forth with Cory,” said Eileen.

“That’s disgusting, Eileen,” said Marvin who had taken a seat close by.

“Shut up, Marvin. Tom’s into cream pies and I want him to have something special on his first day at the club,” said Eileen.

Corrine quickly knelt down and placed her mouth on mine. I collapsed my cheeks sending most of my oral cocktail her way. After taking a few seconds to savor the jism cocktail, she spit it back.

“You can both swallow now,” said Eileen. “Move over, Cory. I’ve got enough juice for a second helping.”

We repeated the previous three steps and while the volume was not as great, it was still enough to enjoy.

With twenty minutes left, we had something of a get acquainted chat with Marvin and Eileen. They’d been members for five years. They learned about the club from Eileen’s older sister, Marilyn, who Eileen assured me I would get to fuck soon.

In our rest period, Eileen and Corrine stroked me back to hardness as Marvin located the Cubs game on television. Corrine massaged my prostate as Eileen circled my cock and balls with the cock ring and snapped it tight. Once more, we prepared to dash outside to Room No. 301 and our tryst with Lenny and Gale.

Our next appointment turned out to be the big surprise. It was not just Lenny and Gale. I claim there was ten couples in that room but Corrine says it was only eight. The room was so full it was impossible to count accurately.

Regardless, the room was packed when Lenny opened the door. If everyone hadn’t been naked and black, I would have assumed we had the wrong room.

We were grabbed as soon as we entered and placed faces down bent over what we later learned were called Love Benches. Constructed of four inch aluminum tubing with a padded adjustable top that ran the length of your torso, they were the first of many club furnishings designed for Masters to sexually enjoy their slaves. Lenny constructed these particular benches at his metal fabrication company. Months later, I purchased one from a Web site for our home use.

I later learned it was a tradition the last of the four sessions was always a brutal slave gangbang. I grunted as they wish boned my legs spreading them painfully wide then strapped my ankles to the side of the bench. Someone removed my cock ring. A length of surgical tubing was looped around my balls and tightened. I groaned as they attached one end to the base of the bench then allowed the tubing to stretch like a rubber band. Some sadist plucked the tubing like a guitar string. My scream provided the accompanying note.

My swollen nuts protested as they were stretched toward the floor. Someone wrapped something around the head of my cock and it joined my balls in being painfully stretched. Corrine later told me it was a piece of fishing line attached to a bag of weights.

I couldn’t see Corrine since she was behind me but I knew she was restrained over her own bench. Later she described how they placed surgical tubing around the base of her breasts then secured it to the base of her bench. Her breasts swelled up and turned red then blue. And to increase her discomfort, they tied fishing line around the base of her nipples and attached lead sinkers.

“I thought my tits were going to rip off,” said Corrine when we were comparing notes on the drive home.

Someone made an adjustment to the padded support raising my chin and I found myself looking straight ahead as a large black cock approached my mouth. At the same time, I felt my sphincter being smeared with lubricant. A half second later, I had a cock in my ass and one in my mouth.

I believe all the men present sodomised me, although I can’t be sure. Several of the women were wearing strapon dildos and they took a turn in my rear. No one was gentle about it. It was a hard slamming, butt-bruising ass fuck punctuated by vicious open palm slaps. It was three days before I could sit down without wincing.

I’m reasonably sure I went down on all the females present since different ones kept appearing at my face for oral service. I ate pussy until my lips and tongue were raw.

I could hear Corrine grunting as they slammed into her. Each session was supposed to last an hour but we were in that room almost two hours.

“Ever been fisted,” asked Lenny when a lull in the action occurred.

The guy had to take his cock out of my mouth so I could answer. “No, I haven’t, Master.”

“Then you’re in for a treat,” said Lenny. “Listen to Cory, she can take a fist.”

I listened to my wife’s loud moans as I felt something very large force it way past my sphincter and enter my rectum. It turned out after being sodomised numerous times by large cocks and even larger dildos; I could take a fist.

There was a camera flash informing me someone was capturing an image of me with an arm up my butt. That set off a round of picture taking that only ended when everyone had taken advantage of the opportunity afforded by my relaxed butthole.

“These will be on the Web site tomorrow,” said Lenny showing me the two-inch square display of his wife Gale smiling at the camera. Her arm was in my ass to the elbow.

“Let’s put them side by side so I can do both at the same time,” said one of the women.

Furniture was shoved aside and so they could move Corrine to my left side. Her face and hair were streaked with semen and she had this wild look in her eye. That was when I realized she was getting off on what was happening. I suppose I was too. My prostate had been rubbed so often, semen was dripping out the tip of my dick.

“Time to sign our work,” said Gale handing out several felt tip pens. Supposedly everyone present signed their names on our butts. Some wrote just their names while others wrote things like, “Welcome to BM&WS.”

Once we had been fully autographed, the men took turns jerking off on our faces. That occasioned another round of photographs.

Some kind Mistress with a taste for semen unbound my cock and serviced me orally. When I climaxed, I thought I would never stop coming as I pumped all my stored up semen on her tongue. She proved to be not as sympathetic as I thought. After she drained me, she came around to my front and spit come all over my face.

“Smile, Tom,” said Lenny taking the final photo of the day.

Everyone dressed quickly and left except for Lenny and Gale. They stayed along enough to untie us then disappeared but not before handing us the bags containing our clothes.

We drug ourselves to the bathroom where we showered before getting dressed and driving home.

“I don’t think I have ever felt so thoroughly fucked in my entire life,” I said as I drove onto the interstate.

“Me neither, my pussy and my ass will be sore tomorrow,” said Corrine. “They fisted me in both holes.”

Lucky me, I only got one orifice. My throat’s raw,” I said reaching in the console for a bag of cough drops. I handed the package to Corrine who unwrapped a couple of lozenges then gave us both one.

“So did you enjoy it,” asked Corrine?

“Yes, some things more than others but on the whole, definitely yes,” I said. “How about you?”

“Yes for me, too. I really got off on the gangbang. It reminded me of my days as a fluffer,” said Corrine wistfully.

“What’s next on the agenda,” I asked?

“Nothing until the third Saturday of next month. We just missed this month’s party,” said Corrine.

I slept in Sunday morning. When I woke, Corrine’s side of the bed was empty. I found her in the home office looking at the club’s Web site as she held a vibrator against her clit.

Someone must have updated it over night. The Event’s page included a link to a Slaves Initiation Albums. Our album was the most recent. Corrine had selected the Slide Show format. I stood beside her jerking my cock as the screen displayed images of us undergoing the finale gangbang.

When our album finished, Corrine selected the album of Ted and Jean, the couple who had been with us when we passed the club’s examination.

I moved closer to Corrine so she could suck my cock as we watched. I massaged one of her boobs as we multitasked our way to a climax.





Chapter 19 Monthly Party


I looked around in the gloom of the basement of the Murtaugh Estate. I’d been there once years before, not the basement but the estate. It was an eighth-grade field trip. My teacher’s name was Ms. Cameron and her tits were huge. She favored tight knit sweaters and on cold days, her headlights were on high beam. My mother didn’t approve and suggested my father contact the school board and complain. Dad, a tit man himself, told Mom to mind her own business.

Ernest Murtaugh was what one could call a Horatio Alger story except he was black. I couldn’t recall all the facts. He was the son or grandson of freed slaves who had migrated to Indianapolis after the Civil War. Ernest was something of a mechanical genius and he invented things for automobiles and washing machines that made them work better. I can’t remember what. Only that he was smart enough to patent his inventions and make a fortune.

Ernest became very wealthy. He left half his wealth to his children and the other half to a charitable trust. The Murtaugh Foundation annually handed out several million dollars to worthy causes associated with Afro-Americans.

The Murtaugh Estate consisted of an enormous sandstone mansion, several smaller buildings, and over two hundred acres of nature reserve. The foundation’s charter mandated the estate be properly maintained and used for the good of the Afro-American community.

During the week, school picnics and other public functions were held on the grounds. If you were a black couple, you could be married in the formal garden and hold your reception in the great hall. That was free except for a nominal charge to clean the place after the wedding.

I remember being totally wide eyed at the magnificence of the mansion when we eight graders were taken on a brief tour. You could put my parent’s three bedroom house is a corner of the great hall.

I can also recall being even more wide eyed when Mary Joe Wiley let me and my best friend Toby Frazer both see and feel her boobs behind the six car garage. That was the very first time my hands felt a girl’s tit and I can still get a hardon remembering how soft and warm Mary Joe’s felt. Childhood memories are wonderful things.

So, I had been somewhat surprised when Corrine informed me the Club’s monthly party was normally held on the Murtaugh Estate. What I didn’t know was that Hazel Tomlinson, a descendant of Ernest, and the President of the Murtaugh Foundation was a member of the club.

Two uniformed Afro-American security guards stationed at the entrance carefully checked our identification. There was a sign posted over the gate saying the estate was closed for the day.

“Look toward me,” said the guard after he keyed our names into his laptop.

“What are you doing,” asked my too curious wife?

“Making sure you’re the Meade’s,” said the guard turning the screen to where we could see our photos that appeared on the Club’s Web site. The guard had a big grin on his face as he held the screen close to the car window for Corrine to view.

“Oh,” was all Corrine could respond. I suppose she felt a little odd he was looking at full frontal nude pictures of her.

When our car approached the main building, another guard took one look at our white faces and directed us toward a side parking lot near what I took to be the servant’s entrances. Other slave couples had already arrived and were standing by their cars undressing.

From somewhere I’d gotten the idea you could judge a group by the cars they drove. The slaves parking lot contained mainly up market vehicles, high end German and Japanese models. The odd thing was the Masters lot was similar. I concluded a slice of Indianapolis’s upper middle class was getting together to engage in some rather outlandish sexual behavior.

As it turned out, I learned over time I was correct. Both Masters and Slaves were mainly professionals and small business owners. The club contained more than its share of lawyers and doctors.

I thanked God the weather was mild for April in Indianapolis as I got out of the car and pulled my sweater over my head. Seconds before, I had taken a pill guaranteeing my capability to acquire repeated erections over the next twelve hours.

According to the ever-present rules, we had to undress in the parking lot except for our shoes and leave our clothes in the car. We were allowed to bring one small bag inside containing our car keys and valuables.

It was a good-looking group. No one seemed too bothered by nudity. Once inside, we waited in line as once more our identification and images were checked. “Quiet,” was printed in large letters on a sign behind the security desk. I assumed it applied to us slaves because the black staff was chattering among themselves.

When it came our turn, the identification check was repeated. Then our bag and shoes were taken away and stored in a locker. We weren’t allowed watches or jewelry. My wedding ring was at home on my dresser. I was naked as the day I arrived in this world.

Check in completed, I was ordered to stand with my hands on top my head while one of the female staff used a small brush and a can of white paint to emblazon the number twenty-two on my belly and back. Corrine was number twenty-three. I made a mental note it was almost noon and for the next twelve hours I was a sex slave who would be tasked to perform any number of sex acts with handsome black couples. I can’t deny it was a cock hardening thought.

You had to be there by noon or you didn’t get in. We milled quietly about as we waited for the last minute arrivals to be processed. Thirty was painted on the final person in line. I noticed a pair of Afro-Americans dressed in black slacks and turtlenecks standing nearby watching us. I gathered that was the uniform of our minders. More ominously, there was a coiled whip and stun guns hanging from their belts.

One of the late arrivals whispered something to his wife. I didn’t hear what it was but the guards were on them in a minute.

“Can’t you read, you stupid ass white motherfuckers,” demanded the guards throwing the pair to the floor. I noted they were numbered twenty-five and twenty-six.

“I just asked if she turned off the cell phone,” said the man who looked scared shitless.

“Assume the position,” said the guard.

I hadn’t read anything about the position in the club’s online rulebook. Corrine later identified the position as child pose in yoga. To me it looked like what the Chinese call kowtow. You start out by kneeling then bend forward until your forehead rests on the floor. You reach back and grab your ankles. In China, it signifies subservience. It also exposes your back and ass to seriously nasty punishment.

“Please no, we’re sorry,” said the woman who had to be in her early twenties. Her husband looked older, late thirties to early forties. He must have spent his time at the gym because he was in good shape. She was definitely a looker. They made a handsome couple. I guess correctly as it turned out she was a second wife. Later, Corrine referred to her with a slight tone of disdain as a trophy wife.

Still, it was a good thing I learned what was expected when a guard ordered you to assume the position. It wouldn’t be long before I had to apply my knowledge.

“If you’re not in position in five seconds, we’ll put you on the rail,” said the guard.

“Please, not that,” said the man hurriedly dropping to his knees. His wife followed him.

“How many,” asked the guard looking toward the person who had been checking identification?

“Five for disobeying and two more for arguing,” said Mr. ID Checker. “One hour on the rail if they give us any more trouble.”

The whips came down simultaneously and hard leaving a red whelp. Both man and wife proved they could scream. Somehow they managed to hold their position for the next blow. Whatever the rail was, it must be pure hell for them to struggle so hard to avoid it. I’d have been flopping all over the floor begging them to stop.

As for we onlookers, our reaction was not what you would expect. Normally, a crowd of middle class white people watching a couple being whipped would be aghast and looking for the nearest exit. But this particular group had gone to great effort and was paying good money to witness and participate in just that kind of treatment.

Before the count reached seven, nipples had hardened and cocks had grown erect and a few hands had strayed to their owner’s crotch. Corrine was squeezing my hand so hard it hurt. I noticed that when the poor bastard who’d been whipped got to his feet, he had a hard on.

Punishment over, we were admonished to remain quiet unless we wanted the same.

When everyone’s identification had been checked and body painted, they ushered us through a hallway and down a flight of dimly lit stairs into a place that based on the dank odor was a basement with a cold concrete floor. There were a number of wooden benches along the walls.

It was a small space and we were crowded together. Corrine and I took a seat along with everyone else. The guards turned out the light leaving us in the almost pitch black. The clang of the heavy metal door at the top of the stairs being shut and locked had an ominous sound.

“What happens next,” I whispered to Corrine?

“You wait until your number is called. They usually make us wait at least an hour,” said a female voice at my side. Our hips were touching. “Everyone’s number gets called at least once. That a rule.”

“So what happens then,” I asked?

“You rush upstairs to one of Overseers and they take you to the Masters who selected your number. Once you get to the Master you work your ass off to make them happy or they tell the Overseer you displeased them.”

“And if you don’t please them,” asked Corrine?

“They got a dozen ways to make you wish you had,” said a nearby male voice.

“I’ve experienced most of them and believe me, they make you try harder the next time,” said the female who was pressing her leg against mine.

“We’re newbies,” said Corrine by way of explanation. “I hope the couple who were punished are all right.”

The husband and wife AKA twenty-five and twenty-six were seated across from us. We could hear the wife sobbing and the husband trying to comfort her.

“Althea and Ron, those two love that kind of shit,” said a man’s voice from past the woman. I assumed it was her husband. “They always give the guards a reason to whip their butts raw.”

“Little too rough for me but exciting to watch,” said the woman placing her hand on my thigh.

I’d never thought much about what we slaves would do when left to our own devices but sex seemed the obvious choice. There seemed to be shadowy movement all around us.

“Althea’s a real pain slut although you’d never know it from the way she acts. Ron goes along to please her. He’s pussy whipped like the rest of us,” said the man good-naturedly.

“Couples should be supportive of one another,” said Corrine.

“Why were we put down here in the basement,” I asked the couple. My eyes had adjusted to the gloom. My interest in them was piqued by the fact her hand was less than an inch from my penis. I could see she was an attractive brunette with a good body. At least it appeared that way in the semi-darkness. Her husband was still in the shadows.

“I suppose it has something to do with the way Negroes were brought to the country in slave ships. They were kept in a dark hold throughout the voyage except for an occasional walk on the main deck. Periodically, the women were summoned to sexually serve the crew. That’s only a guess by the way. We’re not allowed to ask questions. My name’s Steve and the little minx whose about to feel your cock is my true and faithful wife, Anita,” said the man.

“I’m Tom and this is Corrine,” I said. Anita took that as an invitation to put her hand on my cock and begin to slowly stroke it.

“Cory, call me Cory,” said Corrine who for some reason was rather intent on going by her slave name. I’d even noticed the other day at work; she’d signed a note as Cory.

“But this is a basement not the hold of a slave ship,” I said arguing the obvious.

“True, like I said. It’s just a guess on my part. But if you have to take a piss, there’s a bucket in the corner and this place can get pretty rank by dinner time,” said Steve.

“There’s no restroom,” asked Corrine?

“Just a bucket,” said Steve.

“Do we stay down here the entire time,” asked Corrine?

“No, they should start calling our numbers soon. Then you go upstairs and serve the Masters who selected your number. When the Masters are done, they send you back. But at dinner time, we all go upstairs, take a shower, eat, and participate in whatever activities, the Master’s devise,” said Steve.

“Don’t worry, Cory, you’ll get enough black cock to last you until next month,” said Anita who had begun to jerk me off.

“We just wait until we’re selected,” said Corrine sounding a little disappointed.

“Why don’t you come over here and sit by me, Cory. We’ll find a way to pass the time,” said Steve.

“Sure, why not,” said Corrine starting to rise.

I’d noticed a growing level of activity in our basement prison. From somewhere in the darkness, a female voice whispered, “Eat me, Billy. Eat my cunt.”

I decided it was only logical we slaves would warm up for sexual servitude by engaging in mutual foreplay. I relaxed back against the wall while reaching out to feel Anita’s breast.

Corrine proved willing to get it on with Steve and I had developed a liking for the way Anita’s hot hand was stroking my cock. But before Corrine could take the few steps to Steve, someone intervened.

“You’re new,” said an enormous male body blocking Corrine’s path. His powerful arm wrapped around her waist pulling her against him.

“Yes, we’re new. I’m Cory and this is my husband Tom,” said Corrine in her make new friends voice.

“My friends and I get to go first with the new girls,” said the man. “I’m called Danny Boy and these dudes are Ken and Irish Mike.”

Everyone we’d met had seemed so nice at Club BM&WS until now. I’d noticed Danny Boy when we were waiting in line. He was hard not to notice. He had to be six feet six and weigh over three hundred pounds. And they weren’t three hundred fat pounds either. The bastard was ripped. The two men at his side were I assumed Ken and Irish Mike. They weren’t exactly small either.

I’m average height and weight on a good day. That means Danny Boy is almost a foot taller and over a hundred pounds heavier. Still I felt the need to speak up.

“Cory is with me,” I said. Actually, she was in the process of going to have sex with Steve while I messed around with his wife.

“Don’t worry. You’ll get her back when we’re done with her,” said Danny Boy placing his enormous paw on my chest and giving me a slight push that caused me to sit down.

“Don’t you push me,” I said starting to pop back up and commit suicide by attacking Danny Boy. Luckily, Steve and Anita grabbed me keeping me seated.

Keep in mind, I could see my hand in front of my face but that was about all I could see. I could tell Corrine was struggling with Danny Boy’s companions. Ken had her arms twisted behind her back and Irish Mike whose hair turned out to be red had some kind of death grip on her nipples. Corrine was sobbing, begging them to stop hurting her. But there was something in her voice that made me think she didn’t quite mean it.

That was when I noticed Corrine between tearful pleas for surcease from pain was passionately kissing the two of them. When I asked her about it later, she responded it was half real and half role-play. “Yes, they were hurting me but it was making my pussy wet. And my begging them to stop made them want to keep hurting me while they screwed me.”

It didn’t exactly make sense to me but it did to her. And it was her nipples being twisted like a corkscrew.

“All right, Danny, take it easy, no need to get physical,” said Steve holding on to me.

“Give it up, Tom,” whispered Anita in my ear as she held me tight. One arm was around my waist and the other had a firm grip on my dick. “They won’t really hurt Cory. They’ll just fuck her mean-like.”

I must have decided to give it up because I stayed seated as they took my struggling wife to the bench on the opposite wall. It couldn’t have been more than eight or ten feet away. I heard them telling the occupants to move aside.

“I should have stopped them,” I said dejectedly. Now, I found myself playing a role. The idea of the three of them sexually abusing my wife increased my lust but I kept acting the concerned husband. In reality, I hoped they fucked the shit out of Corrine and from the sounds coming from across the basement, they were.

“Not going to happen unless you got a gun up your ass. Danny Boy is a man mountain. The last guy who stood up to him had his nuts permanently flattened. So unless you aspire to be a eunuch, let the bastard do what he wants,” said Steve. “Cory’s a slave so she should expect that kind of treatment and be able to get off on it. She’ll get worse upstairs.”

I couldn’t fully make out what was happening to Corrine even though she was maybe six feet away. They’d put her down on the floor on a thin mattress. I heard her choke and gag a few times. She was being forced to deep throat Danny Boy’s super sized cock.

“Danny Boy and his buddies do that to all the new female members,” said Anita resignedly. “They did me my first time. They’re pretty brutal but a slave should expect harsh treatment even from her fellow slaves.”

“I’m surprised the club lets him get away with it,” I said maintaining my role. “Hasn’t anyone complained?”

“Slaves aren’t allowed to complain. Down here in the slave hold, he can do what he pleases. You might as well relax and enjoy yourself,” said Steve placing his hand under my balls and giving them a gentle squeeze.

“Steve got turned on listening to Danny Boy and his buddies fucking me. The more pain they caused me the harder his cock grew,” said Anita while kneeling down between my legs to lick my penis in her mouth. “I bet you can get off listening. Steve did. Just close your eyes. We’ll both take care of you.”

The fact I couldn’t see exactly what they were doing to Corrine made my imagination run wild. Steve and Anita were on the floor between my legs sharing cock-sucking duties. One of them slipped a wet finger up my ass and located my prostate.

I closed my eyes and listened to the sounds surrounding me. Everyone seemed to be engaged in some form of sexual activity. I recognized Corrine’s characteristic grunt as they hammered their cocks in her. Ever so often she whimpered in pain. The crack of an open palm landing hard on soft flesh emerged periodically from her side of the room.

I noticed Corrine wasn’t the only woman or man being abused. Whimpers, sobs, and pleas for mercy sounded from every corner of the slave hold. The thought slaves should expect no better from one another than they receive from their master struck me as true. Perhaps, we would treat each other worse.

The cliché about everything that comes around goes around also came to mind as I grabbed Anita’s head and forced it down on my erect penis. I took a firm grip on her hair to insure my control. I found the eroticism in pushing my cockhead into the narrow opening of her throat. Her struggle to control her gag reflex and continue breathing increased my lust.

When her entire body began to tremble, I relented. The sounds of her gagging and coughing as she refilled her lungs encouraged me to replace her with Steve who’d dedicated his efforts to sucking my nipples while I abused his wife. I sensed he was eager to be manhandled.

I held his head forcing my penis in his throat until he couldn’t take it anymore before I pulled out. Anita was sucking my nipples and rubbing my balls. Every so often I showed my appreciation for her efforts by flattening her puffy nipple between my thumb and forefinger. She hissed in pain when it was the same thickness as a sheet of paper but she didn’t ask me to stop.

Later, I had to acknowledge I’d discovered a new facet of my sexual persona. Causing other’s pain while having sex with them turned me on. I held off as long as I could; but a couple who were masters of fellatio was servicing me. The surge of semen proved irresistible as it made the short trip from testicles to piss hole.

Just as I finished pumping a full load of come in Steve’s eager mouth, I heard the iron door at the top of the steps open and someone shout, “Twenty two.”

“Better hurry, Tom, or they’ll whip your ass bloody,” said Steve before turning to share his reward with Anita.

I ran toward the stairwell passing by the three men who were making sure my wife’s first sex act at the club’s monthly meeting was an exceedingly painful one.

“Please don’t,” she pleaded with one of them in a voice seemingly filled with urgency. My cock twitched as her plea was answered with a slap causing her to cry out.

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