The Story of Michael

by Damien Dsoul

  ***

  I remember the story Jason had told me about he and Kristine’s encounter with the Mistress known as Tiffany. Another older white boi-slave back at the camp too had mentioned her to me but not as intimate as Jason had. The talk about her was sort of legendary and it was that afternoon we arrived at her home that I got to see her for the first time.

  My Mistress Vuzela entered her spacious living room and left me at the doorway and a tall beautiful black woman wearing slim-fitting jeans, black high heels and black sweater came down a flight of stairs smiling and embraced my Mistress, calling her ‘Aunt Vuzela’. Mistress Tiffany was a gorgeous woman no doubt; I felt a stirring down in my genitals just from looking at her. Mistress Tiffany directed one of her bitch-slaves to take me out and water me. The bitch-slave took the leash from Mistress Vuzela and led me back outside and tied my leash to a tree branch next to a watering well and left me there under the shade. I looked around the compound. There were bitch-slaves and white boi-slaves walking about doing one menial work or another, it was almost like being back at the camp. I didn’t notice someone standing at the other side of the well until my name got mentioned.

  “Michael?”

  I turned to look and there was Catherine standing there looking at me with surprise in her eyes. She came round the well to really see if it was me.

  “Hi, Catherine,” I said. “Long time.”

  “Yes, long time. It’s Caya.”

  “Pardon?”

  “You’re a slave, you should know by now that bitch-slaves don’t get to use their former names anymore. I’m a slave to Mistress Tiffany - we all are here - and now I’m Caya.”

  “Oh, sorry, I didn’t know that.”

  We looked at each other, neither of us saying anything. She was still the Catherine I fell in love with back in Buffalo, but I sensed that Catherine wasn’t the one I was seeing right now. A lot seemed to have changed in her, physically too. She’d lost some weight.

  “You look ... different,” was all I could manage.

  “So do you. What are you doing here?”

  “It’s a long story. I got the news that you and your parents got kidnapped. I came to see if I can find you. I already met your parents.”

  “I met them too. At an auction market. My Dad mentioned they’d met someone back at their former place. Now that I think about it, I’m guessing it was you.”

  This was news to me. “Really? You actually saw them?”

  She nodded. “They were doing alright. They seemed happy.”

  “Yes, they were back at Master Sola’s estate. I wonder what might have happened.”

  I told her about Master Sola and a bit about my time under his abode and of meeting her parents there. Catherine nodded as if she already knew this.

  “Why did you come here, Michael?” she asked me.

  “I already told you, I came to get you.”

  “What do you mean ‘you came to get me’?”

  “I came to take you back home.”

  She looked at me as if I’d lost my senses, then she laughed. “If anyone’s going to take me home, it’s not going to be you, Michael. Look at where you are right now. How’re you going to get me out of her? What even makes you think I want to leave anyway?”

  “Come on, Catherine - ”

  “I told you my name is Caya,” she snapped at me. She came and grabbed me by the neck, sneering at me. “Go ahead and say it. Say it, white boi-slave. Say Caya.”

  “Caya. Your name is Caya.”

  She let go of me and turned around to walk away, then stopped to look back at me. “I don’t know what brought you here, Michael. Or whatever you were thinking that made you come down here. It’s good you came to see what white bois ought to be. But you never should have come. You never should.”

  She walked back the way she’d come from. I called her name but she didn’t turn to look at me at all. I was back to being alone; I was back to being helpless. I hadn’t realized it until that moment how silly, ignorant and stupid and pig-headed I’d been to ever begin this escapade. The words of the detective Thaddeus Black ran through my mind about how serious I was to undertake such a mission. I couldn’t remember much of what he’d told me, but I recall snatches of our conversation, and now as I thought about it, I believe coming here had been a terrible mistake. I should have remained in Buffalo with my sanity still intact. Now I couldn’t tell what I was anymore.

  ***

  Dusk came and I was still at the well waiting for my Mistress. A white boi-slave had brought some food for me; Catherine - Caya - never returned; I was hoping she would.

  From where I was I could see the road reading down to the front of the mansion and as the sky grew darker some cars began driving up towards the wide stairs and people were trooping out of them. The men was dressed in suits and the women in lovely dresses; a party seemed to be happening. Two overseers led several bitch-slaves towards the building. From where I was I couldn’t make out if Catherine was one of them. The night came and more vehicles were still driving up to the house. An Asian bitch-slave came for me, freed my leash from where I’d been kept and without saying a word led me towards the house.

  Even as we approached the doorway I could hear loud music, laughter and merriment echoing from within. My nerves were standing at attention as the bitch-slave opened the door and stepped inside and I followed her behind; I loved parties and loved nothing more than the sight of Black Masters fucking bitch-slaves and white boi-slaves too; I might get involved, who knows.

  The bitch-slave led me into the living room where everybody was at. The furniture had been pushed backward. The walls were lined with bitch-slaves at one side and some white boi-slaves at the opposite side, looking like Greek statutes, and in the centre the merriment went about. Black Masters wore tuxedos and suits and native attire sat or walked about smoking cigars and drinking from large glasses, some of them playing with some of the bitch-slaves. There were some Black Mistress too, elegantly dressed to match the men. I looked around and found Mistress Vuzela seated next to Mistress Tiffany who now had changed into a jacquard evening dress that made her look double ravishing. She was laughing at something a Black Master just said to her and when she looked at my direction she clapped her hands loudly and the noise in the room gradually died down; so too the music playing.

  The Asian bitch-slave who’d brought me into the room led me down a short flight of stairs to where Mistress Tiffany and my Mistress sat; the Black Masters seemed to clear space for me. I felt naked as all eyes were upon me.

  “What is your name, slave?” Mistress Tiffany asked me. She was smiling, but it didn’t get to her eyes.

  “Michael, Black Mistress ma’am.”

  “Slave Michael, tell me honestly, do you know this bitch-slave?” she pointed her hand at Catherine who stood amongst the line of bitch-slaves that lined one side of the room. Catherine stepped forward, her eyes looked at me without expression. I didn’t know what answer to give and knew there would be consequences if I lied.

  I nodded my head. “Yes, Black Mistress. I do know her.”

  “Since you know her, tell me what’s her name.”

  I looked at Catherine - Caya. She looked back at me with still no expression in her eyes. Everyone in the room seemed to hold their breath.

  “Her name, Black Mistress,” I said, “is Catherine.”

  Mistress Tiffany turned to Caya. “Is that your name, bitch-slave?”

  Caya still had her eyes at me and answered firmly: “No, Mistress Tiffany. My name is Caya.”

  Mistress Tiffany got up and walked to where Caya stood. She caressed her cheek with the back side of her palm.

  “Yes, that is your name. Once you were Catherine, but here you’re something else.” She turned to look at me. “I watched the two of you talking from my window and t
hat told me you and this slave here have a history together. Now is the time for your history to come to a crossroad. You are in for a treat, white boi. My bitch here is in heat, and you’re going to impregnate her for me.”

  Catherine looked surprised and shocked. She turned to her Mistress. “Mistress, please, I don’t want to - ”

  “Silence, slave,” Mistress Tiffany wagged a finger before her eyes, her words cut like ice. “Not a word from you. I know already about you and Black Master Amos, but he’s not here to attend to your worries. You’re here to do whatever I want you to do, and right now I want to know if this white boi-slave here has got the bones to fuck you. He probably hasn’t had any white pussy at all.” She walked towards me and grabbed at my genitals in its enclosed chastity cage. I grunted from it. “Or am I lying, slave?” she cocked an eyebrow at me.

  I was fast with an answer: “No, Black Mistress, you’re not lying.”

  “I thought so. Tonight is going to be your lucky night, slave. But you’re going to fight for it. Ladies and gentlemen, please follow me to my battle room.”

  She took the end of my leash and pulled at me to follow her. Catherine followed as well, so too did everybody else.

  ***

  Down a long corridor that probably span half the length of the house, opening a door and then trooping down a flight of stairs, Mistress Tiffany opened another door and we entered into the battle room.

  It was a spacious room with white walls and no windows; air vents from the high ceiling pumped air into the room. There was a square-shaped centre stage in the centre of the room, six feet wide and painted white as well and foamy. On one side of the room the walls were shaped in the form of staircases - this was where Mistress Tiffany’s guest went and sat down to watch what was about to happen. Catherine and I walked into the centre stage. Mistress Vuzela came and undid the lock of my chastity cage, freeing my prick for me, and undid my dog collar as well. There was a Black Master in a suit who was part of the crowd. He was murmuring something to another tall black man next to him. His face looked somewhat familiar but at that moment I doubt if I could recognise my parents had they being in the room as well.

  Mistress Tiffany came and stood before us after Mistress Vuzela had gone to find herself a seat. “My guests expect some entertainment from both of you. Once I give the word, you two dig in and make this happen.”

  She turned and left the stage. Catherine and I eyed each other. I didn’t like the look in her eyes; I sensed she wasn’t going to make this any easy for me. She stood poised like someone about to go into attack mode, like an Amazon warrior.

  “I still love you, Catherine,” I said to her.

  “My name is Caya,” she snarled.

  Mistress Tiffany, standing beside her seated guests gave the countdown: “Three ... two ... one ... NOW!”

  It was being back at the camp watching that older white boi-slave mate with that bitch-slave, except now I was in his place wanting to mate with Catherine. The look on her face told me she wasn’t going to make it any easy for me at all.

  I came at her and she skilfully avoided me. I dove her for legs and pinned her to the floor. The Masters and Mistresses in the room cheered as they watched us grapple and struggle with each other. Catherine gritted her teeth at me and kept hitting at me to let go. We rolled over the floor, her back pressed against my face fighting to pull up from me. My erect prick pressed hard against her bottom. I was loving the feel of it, never once thought I could spot an erection anymore after all this time of wearing a chastity lock. She tried to hit me with her elbow but missed my face. She wouldn’t stop screaming. At one time she brought my hand to her face and bit on my skin. I let go of her then. She got up and turned at me and swung her leg at me, but I caught it just in time and again pulled her down to fall on top of me. This time I rolled her around and came on top her back and pinned her on the floor with my knee pressed on her backside. She was slapping her hand on the floor, grunting and struggling.

  Then she cried out ‘surrender!’. The match was over - I had won.

  I looked up at the crowd of Black Masters and Mistresses there clapping their hands and cheering. I felt so elated like I’d just scaled Mt. Everest.

  Mistress Tiffany approached us. “That was a wonderful match,” she said. “Rather short, but pretty entertaining. Now slave, you have your prize. Enjoy.”

  Catherine turned over on her backside and looked up at me, breathing heavy, her face curled into a snarl. I pushed her legs open and she held up her loin-cloth and made room for me between her thighs. She shut her eyes and remained docile as I rubbed the head of my prick against her pussy’s opening. I was so nervous, so eager with excitement I was licking my lips as I wet the head of my prick with her pussy juice. All these years, all these months ... lost in Nigeria, I was finally about to fulfil my dream of claiming Catherine’s pussy.

  I thrust my prick into her. Catherine murmured a grunting sound and I did too as her warm pussy swallowed my prick like a thick glove. It felt so good ... it was unlike anything I’d felt ever in my life. The room exploded in wild cheers as I raised my head upwards and thrust more of my prick into my girlfriend’s pussy. I encountered no obstruction - she’d lost her virginity without me. That was to be expected being a bitch-slave and everything.

  Sweat rolled from my brow into my eyes and repeatedly I kept swiping it off. I was slamming into Catherine’s as hard as I could, grunting breathlessly as I did. She did moan and her eyes remained shut, her brow furrowed in a knot. She didn’t want to look like she was enjoying it and really I didn’t care. I still loved her, but at the same time I was angry at her. Angry that she betrayed me, betrayed the oath we’d sworn to be with each other, just us and no one else. I was angry that she’d allowed herself become seduced by this slavery lifestyle just as I too have become, and hating me for coming to attempt to take her back into the real world and turning her back at me. I was angry that she’d given her pussy freely to the Black Masters, whoever might demand it from her, but I’d had to fight with her to get it. And now I was mad at her for appearing this unemotional towards me and not making like she was enjoying my cock inside her ... when all these past years back home we’d talked about getting married and raising a family together once we finished college.

  I too soon shut my eyes and conjured up the image of Olu Shango fucking that Canadian bitch at the resort - my God, how long ago was that? - I pictured myself in his place, pounding down hard at the slut the way he did. I pictured Catherine in her place: listened to her screaming and whimpering inside my head and the sound of her voice made me quicken my pace. I was panting like a marathon runner. Catherine’s pussy was warm and wet and amazing. My prick just making squishy sounds each time I plugged her hole. The Black Masters and Mistresses were all cheering and laughing all around me. There was the pressure building down in my balls. It was unbelievable ... it warmed me all over. I felt my arm muscles push out. I was groaning aloud now and I fell down on Catherine, wrapped my arms under her and kept punishing her cunt as hard and fast as I could ... the sensation pressing down in my balls and now racing all the way towards my prick.

  “Agghhh ... I’m gonna cum,” I croaked into her ear, my eyes opened and shut. “I’m gonna cummm ...”

  The cheers went wild in the room. A wave of crackle went round the room.

  “ - hear that? The white boi wants to cum!”

  “ - cum, white boi! Cum for mummy!”

  “ - slave’s got the white boi cumming quick!”

  I felt my river of cum spurt out of my prick and swim like a missile inside Catherine’s pussy. It was then I got a response from her. She held her legs back, her face knotted in a frame of pain while her mouth hollered a loud scream. I grunted some more and felt another spurt swim out of my dick to invade her womb. More spurts poured out of me and goose bumps broke over my arms and shoulders as then I felt my pri
ck grow weak and deflated inside her cunt and then I withdrew from her and rolled to the side, breathing heavily. I looked over my head and saw the Black Masters and Mistresses in the room clapping and whopping like crazy. I turned to look at Catherine. She too was breathing heavy and sweating too. I stretched my hand to caress her breasts. She took my hand off from her. I wanted to tell her I wasn’t angry with her anymore. I wanted to tell her that I still loved her and wanted to marry her.

  Catherine got up and rushed out of the room. The Black Masters an Mistresses watched her leave the room and soon they too were leaving. Mistress Vuzela gave me back my chastity cage to wear and locked the little padlock on it and wore be back the dog collar - I was back to being a slave again.

  The black man whom I’d earlier thought of as being familiar was standing back while everyone else filed out of the room. He walked towards me, smiling.

  “Hi there, white boi,” he winked at me. “You’re a long way from Buffalo, aren’t you?”

  He turned around and walked out of the room leaving me standing there looking at him dumb-founded. His voice. I recognise that voice. And those eyes ... they could only belong to one person.

  Thaddeus Black!

  The End

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