"Fine with me. But make it good. I want to see submission by you tom...white to black, female to male. I am believe this is as it should be and is not 'fantasy'."
Slowly I crawled across the room, all the time pleading that "I wanted his big, black cock" and "please let me suck it." I smiled and debased myself all across the room. When I got to the bed,
I crawled naked between his legs and moved my head towards him. The whole thing revolted me, but I was determined to survive and regain my security and stature as a middle class, American, professional woman. I stuck my tongue out and licked the end of his black dick. The head flared and turned a darker color. I kept licking it with my tongue, coating his dick with my saliva. I could see the veins in it pulsating. I licked down the side to his heavy, black balls. I half hoped the oral stimulation would be enough, and I could make him cum without taking him in my mouth so I kept on licking. I ran my right hand up and down his fuck toy while lashing the purple head with my tongue.
He pushed my hair back so he could see my tits and tongue on his dick. He told me to "put it in your mouth...now." I had stalled as long as I could. I encircled the base of his penis with my left hand while using my right to gently stroke his black balls. For a moment, I contemplated biting down with all my might on the invading organ. Then I realized what a futile gesture that would be. This man thought I was a whore and only wanted what a whore was paid to give. Why hurt someone who did not understand that I was not there voluntarily. This was not my job, but it was my problem. In any case, pain I inflicted upon him would be repaid ten times over by me when Jason took revenge.
I did as I was told. I walked my tongue up his prick, and, when I reached the top of it, I opened my mouth reluctantly to take him inside. I ran my tongue circularly around the tip of it, spiraling it down the length of this cock until he was fully held by my tongue, lips, and the soft, wet walls of my mouth. Then I began to suck, moving my head up and down as I did, so as to bring him quickly to orgasm. He moaned with deep satisfaction and clutched my hair with his hands, moving my head up and down on his cock to the rhythm that he wanted. But his was a light touch, only guiding me. What I was doing, I was doing. There was no force. I could have stopped, but I couldn't have stopped due to the need to end this experience without being maimed.
He was solid as a rock now, his prick fully extended and straining. I was anxious to bring him off. I continued to suck, moving my head in response to his pressure on my hair, like a dog on a leash. I also ran my left hand up and down his prick as I sucked at the tip. Anything to accelerate the process of his release, even if it was in my mouth.
Up and down my head moved, I fondled his balls with my right hand as my mouth worked on his shaft. He was helping now, shifting his pelvis up and down to match the action of my mouth. I lashed his piss hole with my tongue on each up-stroke. I realized that the more I cooperated, the faster it would be over.
When things began to slow down, I heard him say, "Suck harder. Suck!!"
I drove my mouth down hard and began to choke. He was in my mouth and in my throat. Trying hard not to panic, I forced myself to breathe during the few seconds when he withdrew for the next thrust, desperately trying to suck air to my tortured lungs around his cock which never withdrew completely from my mouth. His cock glided over my tongue to hit the entrance to my throat before partially withdrawing to repeat the process again and again. My jaws were stretched to the limit to accommodate his dick. I was gagging involuntarily each time his cockhead forced its way to my throat. He began to move his hips and rotate his prick in small circles. I kept sucking, praying for it to end.
I sucked and sucked, even looking into his eyes while I was blowing him, using that as a turn-on. My jaw was aching, and I was getting desperate when he finally let out a long groan and began to hump my face in little short jerky moves. He moaned again and I felt his cock jerk in my mouth. Suddenly I was flooded with a jet of cum that splattered against the back of my throat. Finally, his hips began to buck, I locked my mouth on him, and he continued to ejaculate with some cum leaking out of my mouth onto the sheets.
I held most of his cum in my mouth and moved to get off the bed; I intended to go to the bathroom and spit it out. Surprisingly, he moved quickly for an older man. He grabbed my shoulder and held me on the bed.
"Swallow it," was all he said. When I hesitated with my mouth still full of his cum, he put his right hand on my throat and began to stroke it. Again he said, "Swallow it." Then he tightened his grip on my throat - the threat was implied. His left hand reached out, caressed my right breast, and then squeezed it painfully. We were a frozen tableaux - his cum in my mouth, his hand on my breast, both naked. When he pinched my nipple, it was so hard that it fired off nerves in little white sparkles all the way up to my neck. Now I knew that I had no choice. I swallowed his cum - the taste not really registering as he felt my throat muscles go through the swallowing motions.
"An black man like me gets a real thrill from seeing a young gorgeous rich American blonde like yourself swallowing my cum. It kind of makes my day and is as it should be. Now thank me for the privilege of sucking my black love rod."
His comment crystalized for me that this was not about sex but about power - the power that these tricks had over the workout girls. There was also elements of racism, class politics, and anti-Americanism all wrapped into the humiliation imposed by him on me. The last thing that really counted here was sex as sex versus sex as a means of domination.
Submissively, I said, "Thank you for allowing me to suck that black love muscle of yours. It was one of the largest that I have ever seen. I loved the taste of your cum."
He got off the bed to dress. I lay on my back on the bed staring at the ceiling, waiting for him to leave. As he began to exit, he ran his hand gently from my pubis to my left breast and said "thanks" before he walked out. I showered and used antiseptic mouth wash that was conveniently on the shelf in the bathroom.
The dreaded knock came, and I headed back to reception. My body and I had generated only $200 in two hours. I was too tired to run the numbers, but instinctively I knew that my pace was too slow. I had to fuck and suck harder, make the clients cum faster, and take on more highly compensated assignments like doubles and triples. I was a survivor and a competitor. I knew I could do whatever it takes to get out of this place before my husband came back to Jamaica. I had the rest of this night and three days (Wednesday, Thursday, and Friday) to pay off my debt.
Back to the reception area I went. As I entered, I heard Jessie yell across the room.
"Did you remember to brush your teeth and use the mouth wash?" Everyone laughed at my expense. I tried to avoid meeting the eyes of anyone in the room, including and especially Jessie.
I turned in my ticket and began to work on another two fingers of bourbon. I felt a real need for the alcohol. Somehow, it made it easier to perform and to forget. I asked for another drink. The bar tender said that was my limit because Patrick had passed the word that he wanted me to "perform" at my best and to "remember my first night" - as if I could ever forget this nightmare. The bartender added that I had to "hustle" against the younger competition and liquor would slow me down.
I took my usual seat at the same table for two. A red haired American came downstairs and sat with me. This girl looked like she was going for a workout in a yuppie gym in the suburbs. She wore a short white cotton cut off jersey, no bra, nipples visible, bare midriff with a pair of short shorts that tied in front and looked sexy and functional for a whore - easy on and off. She was tall - probably 5'10" or 5'11" - all legs with small boobs, maybe 34B/C-24-35 overall. But the red hair was what was distinctive; she was gorgeous, sort like a Playboy centerfold. She also looked like she was in shape - the kind of tomboy that was always playing beach volleyball with the boys.
She said that Jessie had pointed me out as a workout girl. Her name was Danelle Accardi from Mobile, Alabama. She was also a workout girl - but a smart one - Tulane University with a double major, Psych and Sociology, and a Ph.d. in Cultural Anthropology from Cornell. She was currently on the faculty of the University of Virginia and had come to Jamaica on a summer grant to do research, something to do with the long term effects of slavery on an island culture.