Becoming The Black Man's White Slave Boy

"Damn it," said Sam.

"I deserved that promotion."

"I know," I said.

"I think so, too."

"It's Buckman. He doesn't like me. Well, I hate him, too."

"Hey, times are rough. You have to work for jerks sometimes, these days."

Sam and I had been friends and coworkers for a while. We'd been out for drinks after work a number of times before, but usually on happier occasions than this. I enjoyed Sam's infectious laugh, but tonight he wasn't laughing. I envied him his easy way with the women, but tonight he was too angry even to notice the one eyeing him from the bar. I thought about going after her myself, but I thought he needed company. Besides, he was the one she was staring at. He was tall, handsome and black. I was nothing much.

So we sat there, instead, talking and drinking. The alcohol only seemed to make him worse, angrier, louder. He talked faster, and was harder to understand. Talking wasn't helping him.

"You've had enough," I said.

"Enough of that fucking boss, too right."

"Enough to drink, too. Too much, even."

"Yes, you're right."

"I'll drive you home."

"You've been drinking, too. You've had as much as me."

"The last two were soda water."

"Ah. What about my car, though?"

"Leave it here."

"Long drive, man." He stood up. He didn't look unsteady, unless you knew him.

"That's right. I forgot where you live. Tell you what, stay at my place. You can sleep on the couch."

"Okay."

So I drove him back to my place, and gave him a big glass of water and a vitamin tablet. Keeps you from getting dehydrated, which minimizes the hangover. He started talking about work again.

"Damn that bastard Buckman. I'd like to strangle him." He picked up the water glass he'd emptied, and threw it against the wall. It smashed to bits, but the sound seemed to wake him up a little, somehow.

"I'm sorry, man. I'll clean it up."

The breaking glass seemed to jar something loose in my head, too. Sam was my buddy, and he was hurting bad over this. I had a wild idea, and I must have been drunker than I realized to act on it.

"No. Stay there." I went into my bedroom, and looked under my bed. I'm not completely hopeless with women, and I've done some fairly wild things in that bedroom. More important just then, I thought about the future and kept the paraphernalia.

What I wanted was a very lightweight cane, no good for leaning on but just right for a friendly erotic spanking. Only this wasn't going to be erotic, maybe not even friendly. The thing had a reasonable sting, and sounded convincing when it connected, but didn't do much damage. That's what I wanted. I went back out to the kitchen and handed it to him.

"Here," I said.

"I'll be Buckman."

"What?"

I undid my pants and let them drop, then leaned over the back of the couch.

"Go for it, man. Let Buckman have what he deserves."

"Oh, man, this is crazy." The tone of his voice didn't mean no, it meant that he didn't understand. That was okay. I didn't understand, either.

"Do it, Sammy boy." The cane came down, a surprise, and I flinched a little.

"Go ahead, Sam. It's okay." Again, and again.

I thought about Paula, who'd given me a hundred strokes and then kissed them all better. She'd tied me up for that, and said I'd enjoyed it so much she was going to give me another hundred.

Sam hit a lot harder than Paula, though, or my memory was fading. If I'd been a little drunk before, I felt cold sober now. I hadn't been counting, and it suddenly occurred to me that he might not stop for a while. I didn't really want to stop him, either, until he had it out of his system. I tried to pretend I was being whipped by a dominant mistress in a leather corset, and that helped divert my attention.

"Please Mistress," I said, under my breath.

"Please stop."

But Sam didn't stop. It went on and on in slow (but poorly aimed) strokes until I was clenching my teeth in agony. At what I figure was about three hundred strokes, I felt like I was on fire. I was beginning to think I'd have to ask him to stop soon, because I couldn't take much more, when suddenly I heard a cracking noise and he stopped. Was that the crack in my ass finally giving way completely? That's what it felt like.

"I broke it," he said.

"Hey, you're bleeding. I'm sorry, man."

"It's okay," I said.

"You're crying, too."

"Am I?"

"Yeah. I should have stopped sooner. I was just so bullshit about -- hey, you know you've got a hard-on? Are you one of those crazy bastards that likes that kind of shit?"

Any other time I'd have denied it, but I was tired and sore and the words hit me somewhere deep, and I burst into tears. Sam took a step back, and since I was too sore to sit down I just stood there, pants around my ankles, and tried to get it together.

"I'm sorry, Sam," I said.

"It's been a long day." I had to give him credit, that he hadn't run out of the apartment.

"To answer your question, I do sometimes enjoy being beaten -- by a woman. I've never let a man do that to me before. I like being the slave, I like letting -- letting a woman -- Sam, I want to ask you something, and it's okay to say no and please don't hate me because of it."

He looked very tense.

"Okay. Ask."

"I've never done this with a man before. But I want to be your slave for the night. I want you to be my master. I've never given a blow job, but I want to now."

"I think you're crazy. But I do like a good blow job. Be the first time since high school I let a guy do me. And I'm not going to kiss you."

"No, that's okay."

We took off our clothes, and I massaged his body and sucked his black cock. I loved the way he grabbed my hair and forced me down on it, and the way he talked to me:

"Go to it, cocksucker! I do love the way you white boys suck cock." But he was too drunk to come before my jaw got so sore I had to stop.

We slept together in my bed. The next morning he asked if I was still his slave.

"Yes, sir."

"I think I might like having a white boy for my slave," he grinned. After that he grinned and told me to bend over. I did and then he started touching my ass. I wasn't sure what he was planning to. I sort of thought that maybe he just wanted to spank me, but then he walked over and I could see was completely naked. His cock was completely hard and I started figuring out what he wanted.

He came back with a bottle of oil and stood in front of me and put some on his cock. It dripped down on the floor, when he saw that he said, "clean that up later, but first I want to fuck you".

"Yes, Master." I said.

I heard him walk behind me, I felt something big being positioned at my opening and then I felt it being pressed forward and entering my hole. He got a little bit in and then I felt two hands grip my hips and without as much as a warning, he jammed his whole cock up my ass.

At first it hurt incredibly and I moaned of pain and even felt a few tears stream down my face as I tried to bear the pain. Then, all of a sudden, I realized that I no longer felt pain, it was replaced by another feeling that I had not felt before. My moans were no longer those of pain, but pure pleasure. Throughout my journey of acceptance, the rhythmic pounding of his kept ringing loud and echoing into the whole house.

Then I slapped me hard on the side of my hips as he continued to ram his cock into me. I was already used to the pounding and really enjoying the feeling of succumbing to his every desire. That added with the physical pleasure of having his cock slam into my prostate was too much for me to bear. I felt myself getting close to cumming, but he beat me to it.

He grabbed a hold of my hair and pulled up my head hard as he grunted out, "take my cum you white boy slave. Your ass is mine, whenever I want it, I will mark you with my sperm. I will own you with my cum. You are mine you fucking white slave whore."

Then he gasped and slammed into me and held his cock as far into me as he could. I felt his cock twitch inside of me as it injected his seed and marked his ownership of me. I was now his, for all eternity and I was happy that I had pleased my master.

I'd never been fucked at all, certainly not like that. I never even put a dildo in my ass, so my Master had taken my virginity. I was pleased that he seemed happy. It turned me on to think that I now had his seed inside of me. His sperm deep inside of me.

After he was done, he just pulled out and walked away. I quickly grabbed a rag from the kitchen and cleaned up the oil spoils he had left behind on the floor below us. Then I ran into the bathroom, grabbed a fresh towel, some baby wipes and brought it to him. He was sitting at the kitchen table reading his newspaper, so I kneeled down in front of him. I first cleaned his black cock shaft and then the gorgeous cock-head with the baby wipes. After they were glistening clean, I dried it carefully with the fresh and soft towel, so that it was once again perfectly clean and nice. He smiled at me and said, "Good white slave boy! I like your initiative."

I leaned over and kissed his cock. I said, "Thank your for allowing me to serve you master". His praise made me all warm inside, proud, and I was also so pleased that his cock was clean. Then I looked at the clock and made him breakfast. I served it to him as he just sat there reading the newspaper.

After that I drove him back to his car, and he went home. Now I go to his place about once a week. He calls me the night before and says he needs his slave boy for the evening. Some weeks he makes me suck him or take him up the ass, other weeks he makes me cook and serve dinner to guests.

He enjoys introducing me to them as his "white slave boy" or "white whore." Once I spilled a drink while I was serving one of his lady friends, and he gave me fifty spanks on the bare buttocks while she watched. She laughed the entire time.

But the funny thing is, I like it. I really do. No, I love it.

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written by wixmansk