DISCLAIMER: This story focuses on extreme interracial cuckolding with gay sex and humiliation. There's also very slight use of the "n word"--appropriately imperfectly spelled. If any of this is not your thing, please skip it. Negative comments will be deleted. It's too easy to criticize. Instead, write your own story, and invite me to read it through a comment. Cheers!
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My wife, Ann's enthusiasm for following the rules of the Black Masters' Club was intense. We were only a few weeks into things now. True to her promise, she had entertained a new-to-her Black Master every Friday night for three weekends in a row--entirely at the Club's direction--and was more than happy to continue. She had yet to be summoned to another Black Masters' party or another adventure, so for now these weekly visits commanded her undivided sexual attention.
As Ann's beta white cuckold, no sexual attention was allowed me, other than variable viewing and cleanup privileges--where the cleanup privileges were at this point still hypothetical--and my being allowed to beat off.
So far, cleaning up Ann's pussy and ass from the Masters' cum--those were still privileges I was hoping to attain. They most certainly had *not* been granted yet.
Ann was under orders to sexually service whichever Black Master showed up at our home, so long as he was at least modestly "kind" to her. The Master could be firm, dominant, aggressive--just not abusive. Failure to serve a "kind" Master sexually could lead to immediate expulsion from the Club. No fussiness at all was to be tolerated from the Club's white slutwives!
The Masters were referred to by wives and cuckolds alike as "Sir" or "Master." The wives were usually called "cunt," "bitch," "whore," "slut," "fuck hole"--or anything else degrading that the Masters might come up with. We cuckolds were rarely spoken to at all, but when we were, it was usually "cucky" or "cuck."
My wife, to remind you, is a 5'10" red-headed lean, stacked, and curvaceous hottie. At age 32, Ann was at peak physical attractiveness. She had a fabulous never-had-a-baby-yet body, and exuded an aura of fertility and sexuality. She had a perfect 34-25-37 body with firm D-cup breasts and a fabulous bubble butt. Her torso was--and is--petite, with her height almost entirely from her long legs.
My good pals--those who were brave enough--would tease me that she looked like "sex on stilts." I didn't mind. I was flattered that they all found Ann so hot. I don't think I have a single friend who wouldn't fuck Ann if she offered!
Ann has a sexiness that only a real woman can have--the kind that eludes simple girls at eighteen, nineteen, or in their early twenties. I almost forgot: Ann's face is pretty, too, and her long, flowing curls completed the picture, making her a knockout.
Having joined the Black Masters' Club, Ann was totally off limits to me sexually, as the Masters' rules commanded. After the second time I accidentally tried in my sleep to make a move on her, Ann exiled me to the guest room.
Per the rules with the Black Masters, Ann was not even allowed to kiss me on the mouth. I got a kiss on the cheek or forehead now when we said hello or goodbye--a poignant reminder of her devotion to the Black Masters' Club and her role in it.
I might sometimes get a chaste hug, but Ann had also decided that my grabbing her butt the way I used to was inappropriate now, now that I was her beta white cucky. "Boo cucky, it would be disloyal to the Masters if I let you grab me anywhere or in any way that you find remotely sexy. It doesn't matter if they forgot to make it a rule, specifically!" Ann would say. Having accepted the "rules," I was in no position to argue with her.
It was not something I could have admitted out loud--not yet anyway--but I found the rejection and humiliation a turn on. In a way, it was liberating. I knew I would never be expected to try to satisfy my wife--at least not for a year. And I also knew that I would often get to watch her getting blacked--although usually only in recorded videos or through a video feed. I would get *regularly* to watch Ann being blacked to a level of sexual heights that I could not even dream of providing her.
Ann seemed to love her new routine. She was black-only now, at least for the year, and even after a few weeks, it seemed almost certain to become permanent.
Ann was so happy with things. She was so sexually satisfied. Why would she ever want to shift back to me or other white guys? No, Ann's returning to white dicks seemed virtually impossible.
I was making peace with it, a little at a time.
The intensity of my orgasms from watching Ann getting blacked definitely helped! It was unbelievable for me how hard I came while watching her get blacked--or, to be more precise, just after Ann got blacked..
The way Ann threw herself at the visiting Black Masters from the moment they arrived at our house was incredible. I would not have believed it without seeing it with my own eyes.
None of the three so far were even good looking. All three of their faces could even be called unattractive. Ann didn't care. She made out with them as soon as they came to our door as if they were as good-looking as Michael Jordan--which they definitely were not.
Ann explained to me that the anticipation of being incredibly well-fucked by a monster-sized black cock that "would fill [her] the way a woman is supposed to be filled" made her so aroused, so wet and excited, that it didn't matter to her whether the cock's owner were handsome--not even if he were nicely built, she said. She would always honor the man who brought her a giant black cock to fuck "as he deserved, with as much ardor as [she] could muster"--which apparently was quite a lot!
First Kevon, then Rodney, then Jackson came to visit. They each seemed enthralled at her embrace and her attentive French kissing, on their successive weekends, from the git-go.
I remember their names easily because not only did Ann like to yell out their names in recognition while getting fucked, she would talk to me about each of them in turn all week afterwards, about how "hot, amazing, and fabulous" each of them was for her to fuck.
While Ann entertained the new-to-her Masters each Friday night, I watched from a cramped cubby in the basement.
The "cucky cubby"--as Ann decided we would both call it--was decked out with screens and speakers, fully connected to the new and complex audio-visual system the Club had specified be wired throughout our whole property. The house now had a super-abundance of hidden cameras and microphones. The cubby also contained a bondage chair, to which I was tied down while Ann entertained her Masters.
Mainly, the Club directed the installation of the whole technology system so that they could collect footage for the Internet. Quite secondarily, the system was designed for a combination of my pleasure and torment.
While the Masters were on average wealthy, they made me pay for the AV system on my own anyway. It was to put me "in [my] place," Ann had told me.