The Story of Michael

by Damien Dsoul

  “Very much. But now I want some bitch pussy!”

  He snapped his finger at the other bitch-slave who’d brought his towel walked over and she too joined Pamela to worship his cock. The man stood there naked looking like a demi-god while the two bitch-slaves took turns kissing and licking and sucking his prick like it was the best thing ever. He held his meat in his hand and slapped it over their faces, wetting them with his pre-cum. They practically fought to own his prick while the other sucked on his balls.

  Master Sola came and sat on one of the lounge chairs and Pamela was the first to mount him. I watched with my mouth hanging down as she stripped herself of her slave clothes and then pressed down her lovely bottom on his prick. The tip of his cock disappeared into her pussy and she moaned as then she began grinding her butt on his shaft, taking more of him. The other bitch-slave too hurried out of her clothes, rubbing her pussy as she stood there watching. Myself and the white-boi slaves had our hands cradling our chastity-imprisoned cocks. We held it up like it was the world’s most un-used piece of equipment, and in the state we were in, it might as well was.

  Pamela was screaming the Master’s name. He made her come down from him and had the other bitch-slave come and take her place. The bitch-slave had close-cropped brown hair and looked a lot like a younger version of that 80s actress who was a favourite of my Dad, Demi Moore. She too sat astride Master Sola’s lap though with her back facing him. She reached her hand underneath and inserted his cock between her neatly shaved pussy and tested its entrance before pressing herself down on him. Master Sola was groaning and slapping her butt while she stared at our direction with exotic eyes that captured her lust but really didn’t see us. To the bitch-slaves, us white boi-slaves were invincible and not meant to be tampered with.

  Master Sola brought the bitch-slave down from him and he stood up and both her and Pamela dropped to their knees and sucked his cock. He wasn’t done with them yet. He jumped into the pool and told them to join him and they did. I watched as he fucked both of them in the shallow end of the pool. His thighs slapped water about as he bent my girlfriend’s mother forward and fucked her from behind. The other bitch-slave waited her turn and when he pulled out from Pamela, she rested her back against the pool’s wall and held him towards her while he pounded her that way.

  An Overseer spotted me and the white boi-slave and he snapped at us to get away from there and go do some more cleaning. The white-boi slave and I hurried away from the scene. It was too bad I couldn’t free my cock to stroke myself to cum. However we have found a means of pleasuring ourselves without our Masters knowing. After I’d disposed of my cleaning tools, I went into our bathroom and stroked myself with two fingers till I eventually peed into the bowl. It wasn’t much of anything but it sufficed till whenever our Master wished to free us.

  I was acting house servant that day. Master Sola had some invited guests and I prepared the dinner table and checked on the food and everything else. Catherine’s Mom, Pamela, was one of the cooks; her husband, Tim, took came of Master Sola’s clothes that he would wear. The guests arrived in separate vehicles - two Black Masters, one of them wore military uniform and had arrived with a bitch-slave at the end of a leash.

  The dinner went well and I waited on them as they went into the drawing room and helped serve dessert. They talked about politics and business and laughed while they did; I stood at a corner of the doorway awaiting whatever command came my way dressed in a ceremonial white shirt and pants though wearing my loin cloth underneath as well as my chastity lock. The Black Master in uniform was explaining to Master Sola how he’d trained his bitch-slave to be excellent in giving blowjobs. instructed his bitch-slave to crawl over to where Master Sola sat and to make him comfortable. Master Sola had a glass of wine on one hand and a cigar in the other and spread his legs as the bitch-slave crawled from where her uniformed Master sat and came and unzipped Master Sola’s pants and reached inside for his cock and swallowed him. Master Sola had a rather thick cock and most times I’ve watched Pamela suck his cock she always used both hands, and that was the same mode this bitch-slave was using too. Her mouth pulled back and forth of his cock, making a ‘plop!’ sound. She was still sucking his cock when her Master left where he sat, having unzipped his pants and stroking his cock came behind her and introducing it into her cunt. The bitch-slave held Master Sola’s prick in her mouth as her features betrayed the look that there was a black cock jammed into her cunt. She gave a muffled grunt and still kept on sucking Master Sola’s dick. She couldn’t take much of it and pulled her mouth off his dick and exhaled her moans. Master Sola couldn’t help but laugh.

  Master Sola picked up a remote button that lay on a coffee table beside him and pressed a button on it. Some seconds later a door at the other side of the room opened and in walked two gorgeous-looking bitch-slaves; Master Sola had exquisite tastes when it came to acquiring nubile-looking bitch-slaves. The two of them walked into the room and Master Sola directed them to come and take care of his two friends. The bitch-slaves separated and the Master in uniform was hurrying out of his khaki shirt as one of them came and knelt before him to take care of his erection; the other went and knelt before the other Black Master who too had unzipped his pants and pushed her head down on his crotch. The three bitch-slaves were now busy sucking the Master’s pricks and loving it. Pamela came into the room minutes later and she hurried over to where her Master sat and bowed before him.

  “Master, is it alright if I join in?” she cooed.

  Master Sola nodded his head and Pamela knelt beside the other bitch-slave and both of them shared the Master’s cock. I sensed someone standing beside me and saw it was Pamela’s husband, Tim. He was smiling as he watched his wife and the other slave going to work on their Master and several times nudged me to look at their direction.

  The Black Masters took off their clothes and each got busy for the next hour fucking every bitch-slave in the room. Master Sola had Pamela ride his cock and she was just as enthusiastic to do it while the other bitch-slave sucked on his balls. The other two were just as well fucking their bitch-slaves and afterwards exchanging them. The Master in uniform was the first to cum. He pounded his bitch-slave from behind and groaned as he poured every inch of cum inside her and then looked in my direction and barked at Tim to come over and get the bitch’s pussy cleaned up for him to use again. Tim answered ‘yes sir!’ as he hurried over to perform his task. I waited for my own turn to be called. It happened some minutes later when the other Master was on top of his slave fucking her with every ounce of strength he had. I could hear the bitch-slave screaming like she was climaxing every second his slammed his cock inside her. He filled her pussy with his load and as well looked in my direction and I didn’t have to wait for him to signal me over for me not to rush and meet his need. First I came to my knees and sucked his cock clean, licking every droplet of pussy juice that stained his shaft before coming to the couch and bending forward to eat the slave’s pussy. I looked across the living room where Tim was and to my surprise the uniform Master had him bent forward and was now fucking him. Tim grabbed hold of the edge of the couch with his loin-cloth pushed up over his backside while the Black Master thrust his cock repeatedly into him; the bitch-slave knelt beside his legs caressing his thigh. Tim was grunting deep and heavy. I tried to look at his face and saw that he caught my eyes and was fighting to smile at me.

  The uniformed Master pulled out of him at the last moment and sprayed his cum over the bitch-slave’s face. Tim knelt beside her and licked his cum off her face and shared some of it with her; never is a Black Master’s cum meant to be wasted.

  ***

  I stayed under his abode for another month before an accident occurred under my watch that made him send me away. It was a stupid thing I did but not necessarily my fault. I’d eaten something the day before and it made me feeling queasy that night and well into the next day. I was having stomach cramps. I w
as given drugs and they seemed to affect me even more than the ailment I was having. Master Sola was throwing another party that evening and I was supposed to be there. The party turned into an orgy with plenty of bitch-slaves there to entertain the Black Masters; there were some white boi-slaves there was well and they too got a share of some of the Master’s pricks when they weren’t fucking the bitch-slaves and filling their pussies with cum. I too was there to do my job: make like a fluffer for any demanding Master’s prick as well swallow their load when they directed it at me. It was while I was performing such that I got a jolt of pain in my stomach and couldn’t hold back my indigestion. I bent my head and heaved and threw up on the Master’s foot.

  It was a damnable crime and I got whipped for it the following day.

  ***

  Two days later I got summoned before Master Sola. I had gotten rid of my ailment by this time and was still feeling miserable for having near ruined Master Sola’s orgy fest. I had been appropriately whipped for the committing such transgression but that didn’t make me feel bad for having offended him.

  I entered his living room and bowed my head at an older black woman who sat there eating peanuts out of a bowl. She looked somewhat distinguishing - I can’t recall ever having met her here at Master Sola’s home. Master Sola was in his library which adjoined his living room. He was seated behind his desk going through some papers. I stood by the doorway awaiting his instruction to enter. Finally he looked up and I approached his desk. He came from behind his desk and looked at me. His eyes were expressionless.

  “Have you learned your lesson, white boi?” he snapped at me. “You near brought my party to an end, you’re well aware of that, aren’t you? I hope the whipping I gave you has set your mind right, slave.”

  I lowered my head. “Yes, Black Master. I’m well humbled and I regret ever doing what I did.”

  “You should. But I have news for you, slave. I’m not going to stand your actions in my abode anymore. I’m loaning you to a Black Mistress who’s going to treat you the proper way that you ought to be. It’s obvious you’ve gotten to weak and careless under my eyes. You’re going to learn from someone else.”

  He stepped out of the room and I followed him into the living room and introduced me to the old black woman who’d sat in the living room. I lowered my head to greet her once again. She struck me with a walking stick I hadn’t notice she had with her. She snapped at me to get down on my knees and greet her properly. I did as instructed. Master Sola gave her my chastity lock’s key.

  Such was how I met Black Mistress Vuzela.

  BLACK MISTRESS TIFFANY (PART 2)

  Black Mistress Vuzela had a perpetual scowl on her face, was wealthy, unmarried and was a hard woman to please. I got that information first hand as we left Master Sola’s mansion. She came in an open-back truck and had me ride in the back with a dog chain around my neck and held on to the other end from her side window while the driver put the car in gear and we drove off. I sat in the bucket-seat in the back of the truck feeling miserable and watched as Master Sola’s house grew farther and farther from my sight until it was nothing but a memory in my mind.

  We were on the road for nearly an hour. We drove through a city. Plenty of people saw me seated at the back of the truck naked except for my loin-cloth which barely covered my privates, most of them ogling me. One even picked up a tomato and threw it at me; it was a good thing we were driving so fast and he missed.

  Mistress Vuzela occupied the top floor of a penthouse in the heart of the city. I don’t know if this was the same city in which I’d arrived at a lifetime ago or another. It could have been. I didn’t know if white boi-slaves were dared brought into the city but from the look of things, Mistress Vuzela was no ordinary woman. I was expecting she would drive into the building underground parking garage, but instead the truck came to a stop a few feet from the revolving doors of the building; already I was cringing with embarrassment and shame at the sight of so many black people admiring me for what I appeared to be.

  Mistress Vuzela alighted down from the truck and pulled roughly at my chain, hitting me with her walking stick. Her voice was raspy. “Get your ass down from there, slave! You think we at a picnic?”

  I jumped down from the truck. She ordered me to be on my hands and knees, which I did obey and with her leading, she pulled me along like a dog past the revolving doors of the penthouse. The doorman sniggered as I entered the building with her. I didn’t need a prophet to tell me it was me he was laughing at. My predicament. All eyes perambulating at the lobby looked at us as well went past them. My Mistress held her head high and appeared unconcerned with whoever was looking in our direction. The people at the counter stood up and said good morning to her, including the security guard but she made like she hadn’t heard them and marched forward to one of the bank of elevators and we stepped inside with me on my knees beside her looking like her pet dog, which invariably I was, until it deposited us at her floor.

  Inside her penthouse she assigned me to a small room next to where the kitchen was. The room was practically an alcove and former storeroom as they were mops and brushes and detergent containers there aside from the mattress that filled much of the room; a plastic plate lay beside the mattress. Mistress Vuzela showed me a small bathroom where I can be cleaning up; she didn’t like having her slaves’ body odours stinking up her penthouse suite, she told me. There was soap, shampoo, and all sorts of body wash bottles and ointments inside the medicine cabinet. In a drawer I found hair brushes, nail clippers, tweezers, and just about every type of toiletries in there. Things I never thought I would get to see in such a long time - I would have dropped down on my knees and kissed her ass if she’d ordered me to.

  I entered the bathroom and didn’t leave it for maybe two hours. I cut my over-grown hair with a pair of scissors, trimmed my beard and shaved off my armpits with a razor. I did the same to my crotch as well, though careful to trim around my genitals with the chastity still on me. The floor was littered with my hair by the time I was done. I had some lesions on my skin but thank God no lice. I admired my new look in the room. Prior to when I’d shaved off much of my hair I was looking like a caveman; now I had some measure of sanity about my features. It had been a while since last time my skin felt the warmth of hot water. I could feel my skin pores come alive as I turned the faucet and hot water poured out of the faucet; Mistress Vuzela wasn’t that much a bad Mistress after all, although I was yet to know more about her.

  Finished having my bath, I washed my loin cloth and left it to dry while I cleaned out the bathroom. A bell rang and I heard Mistress Vuzela yell out my name. I ran to where she was and found her in what was her laundry room and stood before her as she poked me with her walking stick, looking me over as only then seeing me up-close. She sniffed at me and caught the scent of perfume; that seemed to calm her mind.

  “Good. You smelling good for a slave. But still stink for a white boi-slave.”

  She told me whenever she required me she would ring the bell and I’d better answer or else she’d hang me out her penthouse and won’t care if I fall. I replied that I was hers to command. She pointed at the pile of dirty clothes in the laundry room and told him what to do with them in the washing machine. Done with that, I went and cleaned up her bedroom and afterwards made myself into a table while she sat on a reclining chair and rested her feet over my backside while she watched a re-run episode of Oprah.

  ***

  Mistress Vuzela was an indoor woman. She did go out but not often. If she required anything from a shop she sent me to. I would wear torn jeans and a ragged shirt and she would time me on her watch as to how long she expected me to be back. No matter how fast I returned it was never satisfying to her and she enjoyed hitting me with her walking stick if I dared show the slightest complain. She did have some visitors and I served as her foot mat whenever they came around. Sometimes I’d perform trick
s as a pet dog would and she’d throw dog biscuits at me to catch with my mouth. Failure and I’d get a whack from her stick. I was homesick for Master Sola. I missed being around Tim and Pamela and could only imagine the fun and service they were having while I was here alone. But as the weeks went further into months I was gradually losing thoughts of them.

  Sometime in the following month we went out. The following day we went out. This time we didn’t go in her truck, thus I got to ride in the car with her, though with the chain and dog collar still around my neck. The ride was a long one and it was far from the city out in the country side, or whatever I might call it. I rested on the foot of the backseat next to my Mistress’s feet while she had the end of my chain in my hand admiring the scene of the countryside as the driver drove us to wherever.

  We came to a stop at a gate and it came open for us and we drove inside. I couldn’t make out the sight of the house until we came to a stop in front of it. The driver came around and opened the door for Mistress Vuzela who then stepped out of the car, pulling me along. It was an opulent mansion with a flight of stairs leading up towards it. I looked up and there was this bitch-slave coming down the stairs, her too holding two leashes attached to the dog collars of a white boi-slave and a bitch-slave both coming behind her. The bitch-slave got closer to us and I couldn’t help looking at her, noticing something familiar about her ... and then it hit me.

  Catherine! My God ... Catherine!

  She too was looking at me and she too must probably be wondering if I was the same boyfriend she remembered back home. I had time to look at the two slaves she was dragging along and they too looked familiar to me. It took little effort for me to recognise them - Jason and his woman, Kristine.

  I wanted to see if they recognised me too but Mistress Vuzela was pulling me along hard as we climbed up the stairs hurrying to get out of the sun.