While some specific places and names have been changed, the events in this story are all true. This is my story, and the story of my love, my heart, my Lord and Master, my true husband. While it may seem from the text to be a tale of lust, it is not. This is the story of our love.
*
I knew he was coming; he should be at my room any minute. I couldn't wait; it seemed like it had been so long since I had seen him last. Even though we talked and e-mailed constantly, it wasn't enough. I heard him walk up to my room and he opened the door. I got up off the bed, so happy to see him; but I also knew I had to wait for him to tell me I could go to him. I was at the same time so scared and so excited I was shaking, I was already wet. I wasn't sure I could stand, I felt so weak. He didn't look at me, he didn't greet me; he just came in and walked around; inspecting to make sure everything met with his approval. I stood behind him, not knowing what else to do, waiting for him to acknowledge me. Finally he did. He circled around behind me, so close I could feel his hard-on, but still not touching me. I could feel his breath on my neck as started to talk.
"There are three rules," he said in a low voice, soft and almost a growl, so sexy I could feel myself getting wetter. "First, you will only speak to me on your knees, and you will address me as Sir any time you talk to me." I nodded. I could feel him behind me; I could feel him moving around to my other side. "Second, you will not fight me, you will let me control your body and you will not resist me, you will do anything and everything I tell you to. Do you understand?" I nodded again, my eyes closed as I tried to conquer the desire that was threatening to overcome me. There was a long pause; I tried to lean back into him, but he kept himself just beyond physical contact. I wanted to ask him what the third rule was, but I knew he would tell me in his own time. After what seemed like forever, he said, "third rule. You will not cum unless you ask, and I give you permission. If you are going to cum and I tell you no, you will beg me to stop. Do you understand the rules?" I nodded again.
With that he stepped back and sat down on the bed. I shivered with the ache from the loss of contact, slight as it was. He snapped his fingers and pointed to the floor. "Down." I immediately dropped to my knees in front of him. I reached for his hips and instantly he said, "don't touch me." I felt like I was going to die, I wanted to feel his body beneath my hands so badly. So when he pushed his shorts down and let me take his cock into my mouth it was wonderful. But he didn't let me enjoy it for long before he pulled me back up and bent me across his knees.
How the hell did I get to this position? I asked for it. Well, sort of. Ok, so I'm not really sure how the whole thing started; I mean, I know the events that occurred, but damn it was not what I was looking for, and definitely not what I expected. Master Brenin really wasn't my type at all. I couldn't even begin to tell you if he was good-looking or not, because he was black. And I was raised in a very white, very prejudiced, household. He had invited me to his room one night. Sure, I knew exactly what he had in mind, but I thought it was harmless enough and I figured I would spend some time, politely turn him down, and leave. Besides, I had talked him into giving me a shoulder rub, so I thought I would benefit. Well, I did benefit, but not the way I expected. When I got to his room and he started massaging my shoulders, his hands felt wonderful; and not just because the massage was relieving my tension. And when he slipped his hands under my shirt and pushed my bra strap down, I knew it was probably a good time to reestablish platonic boundaries; but I didn't. And when I felt his breath, his lips on the back of my neck, I knew I should stop him; but I couldn't. And when he pulled my shirt off and took off my bra I knew there was no going back; but he even stopped, looked at me, and asked me if I was sure, if I was ok with it. And I should have said no, I should have thought about my husband, I should have thought about the fact that I was going to have to look at him across the room the next day in the morning meeting, but I just didn't care about anything except the fact that he was making me feel good. And he made me feel good for the next three hours, and then the next night, which turned into the next week. When it came time for him to leave, I tried to tell myself it was because I was going to miss the great sex. But he wouldn't let me off that easily; he talked to me every day, in the chat room at work, e-mailing me constantly, never leaving me alone until I finally had to admit to him and to myself: I was in love. I had tried to fight it, I had to fight myself, my mind, my upbringing. I had fucked a black man for the first time in my life and I had loved it; but not only that, I fell in love with the first black man I had ever allowed to fuck me.
Held flat across his lap, I could feel how hard he was as he pushed my shirt up and gave me the first slap on my ass. I knew it was coming, I had known for weeks he was going to punish me the first time he saw me again. You see, I had stopped calling him for a few days. I had a damn good reason for it, but I had not gotten permission. And I had voluntarily accepted him as my Master. Even the fear of anticipating the pain was better than the awful silence he had put me through when he had been so angry he refused to talk to me, to write me, to contact me in any way. I felt him lift his hand for the second slap and my whole body tensed, even though I tried to stop it. Then he pushed my panties off so he could spank my bare ass. He didn't spank me fast, or overly hard. He alternated between caressing my ass, my legs, my back and the slaps. Sometimes I would feel him lift his hand from caressing me and I would flinch in anticipation of the next smack that didn't come; because he would merely lift his hand, pause, then gently caress me again. And I started realizing that not only was the pain not so bad, I was actually getting turned on. I had been very worried about how I would be able to accept being spanked, even though it was my decision and my desire, because of the men who had beaten me in the past. The very fact that I was even considering it, let alone being turned on by it with my history was disturbing to me. But I was getting turned on. So much that I started rubbing against him, arching my back and raising up to meet the slaps as they came. So much that I could feel my juices dripping out of my hot pussy. I have no idea how long or how many times he spanked me before he pushed me off of his lap. I fell to my knees in front of him as he looked down at the wet spot I had left on his shorts.
"Lick it," he told me, showing me his shorts. I hesitated, I hate the taste of my own juices as much as I love the taste of a man's cum. "Lick it!" This was not a request. I bent my head and licked his shorts clean.
He picked up my panties, feeling them. Then he pressed them into my hand. "Do you feel how wet they are?" I nodded. "Open your mouth." I looked at him, and involuntarily my teeth clenched, knowing what was coming. "Open. Your. Mouth." He was getting angry at my hesitation, at my resistance to his demands. I opened my mouth, and he stuffed my soaked panties into my mouth as a gag. He pushed me back onto the bed and spanked me again. "I want to use my belt," he said. I nodded, even though I knew he was not asking my permission, he was simply letting me know. My body, just getting used to the sting of his hand, tensed again at the though of the belt. The first slap surprised me even more; I actually liked it better than his hand. He continued to spank me, making me hotter and wetter.
Then he pulled me over, with my legs over the side. Reminding me that I was not to cum without his permission, he told me if I felt I was going to cum I would raise one of my hands. And then he bent over me and I closed my eyes as I realized he was about to put his mouth on my aching pussy. Almost as soon as I felt the first touch of his tongue on my clit I thought I would cum. Even though he's a lot rougher than I like when he goes down on me, he's still so incredibly good at it just thinking about it is nearly enough to make me cum. He started to lick the wetness that had formed from the spanking and I had to stop him, I raised my arm. He lifted his head and looked at me, almost smiling, and waited until I had relaxed a little before he put his head back between my legs and started again. Again and again he brought me to nearly cumming, licking me, shoving first one, then two, then more fingers inside me. Slow and then fast, and soft and then hard, licking me and fucking me with his hand. Again and again I had to stop him, raising my hands to let him know that I was on the verge of cumming. I would raise my hand and he would stop, leaving his fingers inside me but raising his head to look at me. "You're cumming, aren't you?" he would ask; and I would shake my head vigorously to convince him that I was not. Did he know if he had so much as twitched his fingers still inside me that I would not have been able to stop myself? Probably. He knows my body better than I do. The heat, the ache, the need to cum was building almost to physical painfulness; but it was the sweetest pain I could ever remember feeling. I loved every second of it; I wanted it to end for the release I so desperately needed, but at the same time I wanted it to go on forever.
