Such a Good Boyfriend

"'uck!"

The sensation is incredible, more intense maybe than any I'd felt before. I think it's because I know what's going to happen soon. That's why I'm savouring it, enjoying it for as long as I can, aware it might be the last I'll feel for some time.

"Good boy," coos my girlfriend.

She's standing above me, sat as I am on the chair in our front room. I try to keep pumping, prolonging it as long as possible, letting the pleasure wash over me, through me, but I know there are time constraints.

"Uh, no no, that's it. You know the rules."

I wipe myself clean on the tissue, looking down at my now shrinking dick, mentally biding it a fond farewell.

My girlfriend waits a beat or two, watching me wither, before kneeling down in front of me. She's grinning from ear to ear.

"You're such a good boyfriend!"

I feel the cold press of the silver steel on me. When she clicks it closed, I can't help myself - I jump a little.

"There," she says, standing back up and admiring her work, "you look perfect baby. What do you say?"

I try to muffle a 'thank you', but the ball gag means it comes out as a pathetic moan.

She stands up, taking the key from my cage and locks it in place around her necklace. She looks so happy.

They'll be here soon. That's why I'm in this position. They demand it.

She does what they say - fuck, she'll do anything that they tell her to do.

Her bull has told her they'll be coming.

They've texted her their instructions - that's why I'm like this. She complied, without a second thought. Maybe it's just instinct now, maybe it's so ingrained that she doesn't even need to think about it. She just does, does whatever they tell her to do.

I feel the second piece of cold metal, this time around my wrists. I'm here now. Locked, hands cuffed to the chair.

The doorbell rings. My heart starts pumping faster.

She breaks into a funny expression - delighted, overjoyed; terrified.

They traipse in, casually, as if they own the place, as if this is the most natural thing in the world.

I know them all - Zeek, Asho and the monster of a man named Tiny. They don't know my name. They don't know my girlfriend's name - they don't care. We're just another white couple for them to have fun their with.

They slap my girlfriend's face, they slap her ass, they make her get down on her knees, the front door wide open so anyone passing by can see what's happening.

They laugh at me, moaning through my gag. They laugh at my girlfriend, moaning with her mouth stuffed full of their fat cocks.

She's not a girlfriend to them. She's not a young, successful woman. She's just a toy, a plaything, a fuckable set of holes for them to use.

They take pictures, laughing as they use her, degrading the woman I love. They fuck her on our sofa, they force themselves into her, screwing her roughly, taking turns in her pussy, in her mouth.

She screams and moans and cums and cums, over and over.

They take our phones, snapping pictures as they dominate her, take her, ruin her.

They make her pose, sat on their cocks, her little pussy stretched out, her mouth full of dick.

They send pictures of us both to all our contacts. My girlfriend can't stop cumming.

They laugh at me. They tell me I'm a little white wimp who's going to be raising their babies. They tell me they're going to breed my fertile white girlfriend.

They're as good as their word - they take turns pumping her full of their seed, filling her up, breeding her. She just cums and cums.

They put a collar on my girlfriend, a leash attached, and make her heel by their feet, like a dog.

They tell me they're taking her now, taking her to a tattoo parlour to get pierced and marked, marked as their property. My girlfriend just moans, cumming as she revels in her own subjugation.

They lead her outside, leashed and covered in their jizz. The front door slams shut.

I know she'll come back to me though. I'm such a good boyfriend.

She'll come back to me. She always does.

She's coming back.

I hope she comes back.

She's coming back, right?