Sweet Surrender

Have you ever had a secret? Have you ever been haunted with thoughts that aroused you, and scared you at the same time? Thoughts of pleasure that made you feel uncomfortable? Have you ever been tortured with thoughts that you wouldn’t want to admit to anyone else turned you on? Greg had such a desire. Actually, it was more like a painful secret. One that he could barely acknowledge himself. It was virtually impossible; it was unthinkable for him to contemplate. Real men would never have thoughts like that, not real hardcore brothas like himself. He did everything he could to suppress his thoughts, deny his feelings, and ignore his longings. In real life, Greg projected the opposite of his real desires. He wasn’t even aware of when the fantasies first started. Afraid of the implications and ramifications, he did everything possible to create another reality. It was essential for him to manufacture a truth in which his fantasies would not haunt him, a reality in which “she” was not there.

Greg was your better than average looking, extremely intelligent, mad cool brotha. He was a ladies man for sure but that wasn’t his fault. He was 6’2”, 220 lbs. of sculpted ebony, baldheaded, and penetrating green eyes. His eyes were obviously some sort of genetic mix up from a recessive slave master gene, but it separated him from the rest. He worked out every day to keep his body together, six-pack, chiseled chest… his shit was tight. He stood out in a crowd, in a word, he was fine. A graduate of Yale Law, Greg was a successful attorney. He was a fraternity member, played ball with the boys on the weekend, upstanding, a really, genuine nice guy. In his lifetime, he had had more pussy than he knew what to do with. Name a fantasy, Greg had done it . . . twice. Threesomes, group sex, sex any and every place you can imagine, in fact, he had done every wild, nasty, kinky, sweaty, hot sex act humanly possible. Now, his own secret perversions were driving him to distraction. The more he tried to suppress them the more the images and sensations crept into his head.

She stalked him; his dreams, his thoughts, his fantasies. This vision, his goddess, his perfect woman crept into his thoughts when he least expected her to. She always there, possessing his perversions, lurking in the recesses of his mind. In fact, it seemed that the more stress he was under at work the more his thoughts drifted to his secret. Sometimes at night, Greg would stay awake as long as possible watching late night ESPN, avoiding the bed at all costs; afraid to go to sleep because he knew she would be there. She was there, behind his eyes as he drifted off into a peaceful slumber, only to torture him with pleasure untold. Even though she was completely a creation of his imagination, he knew everything about her; what she looked like, the way she moved, what she smelled like, her every desire and he also knew how to satisfy them all. He could feel the intensity of her stare and the caress of her touch. It was too bad she was just a fantasy, or maybe that was a good thing.

Greg needed to get out. He had a case he was litigating and it was a career maker or breaker. If he won this case, it would be what he needed to set the stage for the rest of his career. There were complications with the opposing council and it was starting to look like this was going to end up being a knock down, drag out fight. There were rumors that the litigants on the other side were bringing in some hot shot, heavy hitter attorney that had a reputation for taking no prisoners. It was some mystery lawyer that supposedly had never lost a case and dotted every ‘i’ and crossed every ‘t’ and left no stone unturned in order to get a favorable judgment. Greg needed to get out to release some of the tension because he was working 20 hours a day trying to prepare for this case that could make or break his career.

The list of invited guests at the record release party that Friday night read like a who’s who in the social registry of hip hop. Everybody who was anybody was there. The label had rented the club for the entire night and Dom P flowed freely. Greg was dressed head to toe in Emporio Armani and he showed up slightly after 11:00. He mixed and mingled with the best of them, one of the perks of dabbling in some entertainment law every now and again. Of course, events like this one drew the most beautiful women, wearing next to nothing, looking to get a record deal, be in a video, or end up hot and sweaty in the back of a Bentley with the rapper du jour. This night was no exception. Fly honeys were everywhere. He would never admit it openly, modesty prevailing, but Greg was always the best looking brotha wherever he went. The ladies this evening were in competition for his attention, and to Greg, they were toys to be played with.

There was one young lady that stood out. She was wearing a short skirt and didn’t really care who saw that she was without panties or thong. Somehow, she had made her way to the VIP section of the club and was flashing shaved pussy and fat ass for anyone who wanted to look to see. Her titties were so big, for a woman her size, they looked fake. The way they jiggled and bounced in her skimpy little top left no doubt in anyone’s mind they were real fo’ sho’. The fact that she was so breathtakingly beautiful was what set her apart. Perfectly packaged, she could easily be considered in the ranks of Aaliyah, Jennifer, and Janet, minus the refinement. Fellas and ladies alike were intimidated by her looks. All the other females in the club were either openly hating on her or lusting after her. Guys were buying her drinks and flashing cash like there was no tomorrow trying to impress her. All the men in the club were dying to step to her but they were afraid that if they approached her and she laughed at their advances they would never live it down. Greg had no such fear.

Greg positioned himself directly in front of her. They made eye contact and the stage was set for an evening of intense sexuality. She was sitting on a couch and he was directly in front of her in a chair separated by about 10 feet or more. She opened her legs to reveal her surprise. Even with the dim lights of the club, he could see the reflection of the silver bar that had pieced her clit. People started to gather around and take notice, at first inconspicuously, then more voyeuristically. The chemistry between the two of them was electrifying. Greg kept his distance; he knew how the game was played. The young lady was desperate for his attention; she needed him to want her. She pulled her skirt up to her waist and non-verbally dared anybody else to even come near her. Her gaze was focused completely on Greg.

He mouthed the words, “Fuck yourself,” and she proceeded to do so. She spread the lips of her pussy with her left hand and rubbed her clit with the index finger of her right. She seductively rubbed her pussy up and down, dipping her finger in her hot pussy. Her finger was coated with juices and she made a point of suck them off like she was sucking a dick. She loved all the attention and the admirers. All the while, not 20 yards away, people were dancing the night away, totally unaware, to the latest joint from DMX. The nameless beauty was forming quite a crowd around her with her performance. People had now formed a circle around them, waiting for more instruction from Greg. Everyone watched in silence as she got more and more into fucking herself, but the effects were taking their toll. Hard dicks were protruding from the latest Sean John, Enyce, and FUBU gear. The ladies were discretely stimulating themselves, afraid that if they were too conspicuous, people would think that they were desperate for attention. If there hadn’t been metal detectors searching everyone at the door, you could have cut the tension with a knife.

Greg was amused. He yielded his natural power over the woman from across the room. With a snap of his fingers he signaled for someone to move the table that separated him and his new friend out of the way. Immediately, brothas lifted the decorative but substantial coffee table out of the way and where it disappeared to is anyone’s guess. By this time, the woman was fingering herself like crazy. She had spread her legs wide and was fucking herself with reckless abandon. She had three fingers thrusting in and out of her pussy and was rubbing on her clit. She reached down and shoved her finger in her ass and the entire crowd gasped for air with her, like they felt the same sensation with her. Greg stood up and took his dick out. He moved closer to her, within a few feet. He started stroking it and everyone there could see the look of desperation in the girl’s eyes. She shut her eyes and started ramming her fingers in and out of her ass. She was breathing hard and lost in her own pleasure.

Greg cold tell she was about to cum and he said, “Don’t you dare cum. Stop right now. NOW!” She couldn’t stop. She was too far-gone. She needed the release. The feeling of ecstasy and pleasure in her ass were not of this world. Greg signaled the two women who were closest to her to grab her hands and make her stop. “Restrain her, don’t let her move. Hold her arms.” The two women appeared to be in their own trance and followed orders without hesitation. They grabbed her by her wrists and pulled her arms to either side of her. It was too late. That was enough to send her over the edge and the waves of pleasure came crashing down on her. She moaned like a wounded animal. Her body convulsed with rapture. Cum was literally dripping out of her pussy. It took all the strength of the two young ladies to restrain her. She was babbling and screaming, ”Fuck me, Fuck me damn it, ride this pussy, use it, stick me, now!” Greg had seen this look of desperation so many times before. Glazed over eyes, panting and heavy breathing, and a suspension of reality really. Women with the look of need on their faces. She had a need to be pushed further than they had ever been pushed before.

Sensing the direction things were going, Greg signaled the make shift bodyguards to release their captive. Unsure of what to do next, she simply waited for Greg’s next command. “Crawl to me,” he said. Like a panther, sleek, Black and sexy, she crawled on her hands and knees to him. He grabbed his dick and held it in her face. The crowd drew in closer, fully aware that any live sex act in the club would not only get somebody arrested, but close the club down and result in mad fines and negative publicity, no matter how much the party promoter had paid to rent the club. Kneeling before him, the woman waited for her next instruction. She felt honored to be at the feet of this mysterious stranger, even though she was quite sure she would never see him after that night. Greg held his dick to her lips. He took the tip between his fingers and squeezed it causing pre-cum to ooze out. “Tongue fuck the slit.” With that, the woman stuck her tongue out and began to seductively lick Greg’s rock hard dick. She was trying to get the tip of her tongue in his piss hole. The sensation was enough to make Greg’s dick throb and jump. He was stroking his dick, milking it, forcing more pre-cum out.

Up to the challenge, she was licking it up like it was the sweetest honey. She stuck her tongue out and licked Greg all the way from his balls to the head of his dick, even licking his hand as he continued to jerk off for the crowd. Overcome with lust, he grabbed her head, pulled her by her hair, and slid his dick deep in her mouth with one thrust. Her mouth felt like a hot, wet, tight pussy. She was sucking it like a pro. Her tongue was swirling around the shaft as her lips kept up a steady rhythmic sucking. Her spit was all over him, and if you listened closely, you could hear her slurping noises even over the music. She kept her eyes glued on Greg and eagerly awaited his next command. Greg was on the verge. The inside of her mouth felt like hot silk. The cum was boiling up in his nuts, the sack drawing up close to his body. Lights were flashing, the music pumping and he was thrusting in and out of her mouth. She had taken him deep. He was fucking her face. “Yeah bitch, suck my dick, suck it you nasty whore.” Greg closed his eyes and concentrated on the beautiful woman sucking, licking, and swallowing his dick. The sensations were incredible. The suction on his dick felt like he would never get head this good again in his life. He grabbed the back of her head and started to pump his dick in and out.

He opened his eyes to see the reaction of the crowd. He glanced around him, just to see who was watching and . . . “She” caught his eye. She didn’t fit in with the rest of the crowd, she emanated an air of sophistication and distance. It was her aura that made Greg feel like he was looking that the woman of his dreams. She was staring through him, watching the entire scene. Greg gasped for air and wanted to scream out to his fantasy woman. As quickly as she was there, she was gone. She disappeared into the club.

Distracted and positive it was the woman of his dreams, Greg lost all his concentration. The woman before him now meant absolutely nothing. He wanted to run after his mystery woman, call out to her find out who she was. All of his secret fantasies and desires started flooding his mind. The woman sucking his dick no longer aroused him. He grabbed her haed and groaned out loud. Everyone watching knew exactly what was happening. Greg and his dick-sucking friend knew differently. Greg faked it. He pretended to cum. Actress that she was, the young lady didn’t let on any differently. She couldn’t see what had happened, but she had sucked enough dicks to know something was weird, so she just played along.

Greg grabbed his still hard dick and put it back in his pants. He didn’t even wait for her response or to see what was going to happen to the horny crowd. He was off in search of the mystery woman. He looked in every corner of the club. He even went into the employee only areas and the ladies room. He was crazed. He wasn’t even sure what he would say to her when he found her. No luck. She was nowhere to be found. Once more around the club, just to make sure, he emerged out into the night, desperate and confused. Had it all been a dream, did he make it all up? Did she really exist?

Greg was dazed. He began to wonder if he had really seen her at all. Maybe it was just his imagination playing tricks on him. When he really thought about it, he was convinced it was really all blown out of proportion. The woman in his fantasies was his creation; she didn’t really exist. He stood in the night air trying to convince himself he was making it all up. He was kicking himself for running out on ole’ girl in the club. She would have been an interesting depository for some of his frustration. For a minute, he thought about going back inside, but he knew that she could never satisfy his real appetites. His thoughts were distracted. For an instant he recalled the sensation he felt when the ominous stranger made eye contact with him. It was as if she could see right through him. She was not affected like the rest of the crowd. It was as if she was taking notes, objectively observing. It was more than apparent that she saw through Greg’s façade. She saw what no one else could see. Greg shook his head, trying to dissuade himself from such thoughts. He was really losing his mind. There was no way anybody could affect him that was from only thirty seconds of eye contact. He felt so sure about it.

He realized that he had been standing outside in the warm night air for about 30 minutes, just lost in thoughts and fantasies. The only thing that snapped him back into reality was the insistent need in his pants for release. His dick was pulsating, demanding his attention. He summoned for the valet to get his truck and did his best to keep his erection from showing. Once inside his vehicle, the tinted windows shielded him from the rest of the world, but not his fantasies. She was calling out to him now; he could feel her fingernails down his back, her breath as she whispered nasty things in his ear, her hand wrapped around his dick. He was driving around aimlessly in a daze not knowing where to go. All he wanted was for his thoughts to go away. The high beams in his rear view made him snap back into reality. He realized that he was in the red light district of town. It couldn’t hurt to stop off, pick up a magazine or a video before he went home to take some of the pressure off.

As secure as Greg was with his sexuality, when he sought out release for his secret desires, he was intimidated and scared. He was sure no other brothas on the face of the planet shared his thoughts. He entered the store and looked around, no one was there except him and the tattooed white guy behind the counter. He made his way over to his favorite section of the store. He wanted to just take it all in, stand there and look at all the images. Too bad they were all white people on the boxes, but at that particular point and time, he really didn’t give a damn. Greg’s dick was still hard, with no signs of going down any time soon. He heard the chimes on the door signal that someone else had entered but he didn’t turn around. He was going to pick out a magazine and a flick and be out. Ahhh, decisions, which ones to choose? He had just made his selections when he reached out to pick up his choice. Just then, an arm reached across him and grabbed the exact same video.

“I always find that true female domination comes from the softest whisper, not physical force. Don’t you agree?”

Oh, shit. It was “her.” He was frozen. No, it couldn’t be. How? What the…? The blood rushed to his head and his ears were ringing. His heart was racing. His heart was beating so fast, he felt like he was going to faint. His mouth was dry. There was no way he could form words to speak.

“I asked you a question. Aren’t you going to answer me?”, she said. Nope, he wasn’t, he couldn’t. All he could do was just stare. She was exactly the woman he had dreamt of. At 5’8”, around 135 lbs, She was a size 4, no, maybe a 6. Her skin was the most perfect color of mocha, flawless and it looked so smooth, like a baby’s. Her naturally curly hair was pulled up and secured in a severe, dramatic style, but he could tell that the second she let it down, it would go back to Africa, in it’s most beautiful state. She was dressed in a sexy black suit, probably Calvin Klein; it was severe and sophisticated. Her hosiery shimmered off of her perfectly sculpted calves, making him think that they were silk; he imagined that she picked up in Paris on her last trip abroad. Her shoes were definitely Italian. The black leather of her pumps framed her perfect size 7 foot like it was a work of art. Her most striking feature were her eyes, jet-black and mysterious. They were so deep, so mesmerizing, Greg was jealous and captivated at the same time. He looked into those eyes and found his true home.

“Greg, are you going to answer me?”

He was snapped back into reality. “Wait, how do you know my name?”

“I know quite a bit about you Greg. It wasn’t too hard to find out. You have quite the reputation. I would suggest in the future, that if you want to remain anonymous, that you not have women suck your dick in the middle of a very public club. I guess you aren’t going to answer my question. Oh well, have a nice night.”

“No, wait,” the words came tumbling out; there was a panic in his voice. “Uhmmm, yes.”

She looked at him with a disgusted look on her face. She didn’t have to say anything. Greg lowered his eyes and addressed her again. “Yes, I think that the true female dominant can control with just her will, manipulation if you must, not force.” Greg was rather pleased with himself, considering all the blood was not flowing to his brain, but rather his head.

She put her delicate hand on his arm and leaned close. He could feel her breast gently pressed against him. He lips were near his ear. “How do you suppose you should address me when you speak to me Greg?”

There was no fucking way this was happening. No way in hell. Greg managed to squeak out something about not being sure, about now knowing too much about this sort of thing, not knowing her name. “Too bad Greg I thought you had promise.” With that, she turned and started to walk away. He couldn’t let her walk out of his life again.

He was sure it was “her.” He yelled out to her again, “No, please wait. Tell me what I should call you. I don’t know.” The guy behind the counter was hanging on every word. He had put his magazine down and had moved closer to hear every word that was exchanged between the two late night customers. None of that mattered to Greg right then. She didn’t turn back. She put her hand on the door and pushed it open, the chimes ringing in his ear. He ran after her and out into the night, into the dark and desolate parking lot. She was putting her key into her car door when he called out to her again, “Wait . . . Please don’t leave . . .Mistress.”

He stopped dead in his tracks, waiting for some form of acknowledgement from her. She turned and stood in silence. He walked over to her; his eyes were on the ground. “Good boy, I’m proud of you.” She reached out and put her hand in his pants pocket. His erection was more than obvious as she got his keys and said, “ Come on, let’s go.” She walked over to his truck and got in on the driver’s side. Nobody had ever driven Greg’s truck before, except an occasional valet. Greg quickly got in on the passenger side and sat in awe as the woman adjusted the seat and mirrors to suit her. Just then, her cell phone rang. “ … This is Chantal, no . . . I will be in in the morning.” She turned her head and examined Greg’s demeanor and expression. “I need to get a lot of work done so I’ll probably be there the entire day. Have all the files that I requested and be prepared to pull an all nighter. I don’t really care that it’s a Saturday. Be there tomorrow at 8 am and be ready with the things I asked for.”

How incredible could this woman be? She was a woman in control and that made his dick leak precum like a faucet. They were off. It only took a few minutes to figure out that she was driving to Greg’s home. “Wait, how do you know where I live?”

She didn’t even bother to respond. Greg had never even been on the passenger side of his own truck. The view was intoxicating. Here was this magnificent woman controlling him, and he wasn’t even sure how it had happened so fast. He was unsure of what to do with his hands. He was nervous and fidgety. “Caress my thighs Greg.”

“Yes Mistress.” He wanted, no needed, to say it now. He placed his hand on her knee and electricity shot through his body. The muscles in her thighs were tensed. He gently caressed her leg, scared to move up too high and risk offending her. He was drunk with lust. This was the most exquisite sensation he had ever had in his life. For a brief, second he got lost in thoughts of why he so desperately needed to be controlled by a strong Black woman. This was not the time for such reflections. Right now, all he could think about was the unbelievably stunning woman who was capable of controlling his every move right now. He was caressing her leg softly, getting more and more comfortable with that fact when his hand encountered skin. He realized that she was wearing stockings. “Mmmmm.” He whimpered like a baby. Chantal laughed out loud. Surely, Greg had seen dozens of women in stockings before, but this had affected him in the most intense way. They were in his carport before he knew it. All the details of how they got inside his condo were a blur. All Greg knew was that he was in his bedroom with this magnificent woman and she was undressing in front of him like this was her home.

She unbuttoned her suit jacket and revealed the most magnificent set of 36 C’s known to man. They weren’t too big, not too small, they were just right. They were beautifully encased in the most expensive black La Perlier bra ever made. Her nipples were works of art poking through the lace. They were perfect peaks of sensuality to cap off those smooth, brown tits. Her stomach muscles showed evidence of many a personally trained workout. She turned around an unzipped the back of her skirt and slipped it down her legs. The matching panties were French cut, so much more sophisticated than the all too popular thong. Of course a garter belt held up her stockings. Her ass defied words. OK, if one were to try to describe it, they would probably use the words soft, round, high, big, simply a beautiful representation of Black femininity.

She moved about the room comfortably. Emerging from the walk in closet, she held several belts and ties. Her taste was exquisite; they were the most expensive imports from his collection. She arranged them at the foot of the bed. “It’s showtime little boy.” It sounded comical coming from a woman of her stature compared to Greg’s size. He had a look of confusion in his eyes. He was watching all of this transpire as if it was a movie happening in his own bedroom.

“Undress.” It was simple and to the point. Completely aware that there was a strange woman giving him commands thrilled Greg. Chantal could tell the thoughts running through his mind. It aroused her to see him so confused, so stimulated. She imagined that if she desired, she could make him cum with a simple voice command. Greg had only dreamt of giving up control before. All of his sexual life, he was the predator. A few months ago, he began to fantasize about what it would be like to give up control. To be used if you will. He didn’t even want to think about why these thoughts thrilled him so. He did know they were extreme. He wondered if this woman would truly have the power to take him there. Chantal taunted him. “Would you like it if I humiliated you like you did that young lady at the club?”

Perhaps out of habit, more out of fear, quietly he whispered, ”No.”

“Excuse me? I don’t think I heard you correctly. Do you think I’m here to play games with you little boy? If you don’t want me here, I can leave. I don’t need you, need I remind you? You created me. I am your fantasy, not the other way around.” Greg panicked. There was no turning back now. If he let this opportunity slip through his fingers, he would never forgive himself.

“Yes Mistress, I need you to use me. I crave your domination and control.” He was reminded of his command to undress. His hands were trembling. The buttons on his shirt seemed outrageously small. He took off his shirt and stood there motionless and speechless. Chantal walked around him, admiring his smooth brown chest, strong arms, and broad shoulders. She picked up one of the belts, folded it in half, and gently touched it to his lips. She leaned close; her body heat seemed to scorch his skin. She whispered in his ear, “I said, undress.”

He felt so awkward but he knelt down to take off his shoes, then undid his belt and kicked them to the side. He had never been more proud of his body at that moment. All of his hard work had paid off because his Mistress looked pleased. He reached into his boxer briefs and grabbed his shaft. It had never felt thicker. He couldn’t resist stroking it just a little before he hauled it out. He finished getting undressed and stood there before his Mistress, erect in more ways than one.

She walked around him, examined him from every angle. She caressed his chest and arms, ran her hand over his stomach, pressed her body against his back. She walked over to the dragging the belt behind her. Greg stared at her ass in awe and disbelief. She sat ton the dresser and spread her legs wide.

“Crawl to me.”

It took a minute for Greg’s brain to register what she had said. He wasn’t even thinking as he put his right foot out. “I SAID CRAWL. You do understand what that means don’t you?”

This was it, the deciding moment. Greg had to decide if he wanted all of his fantasies to come true at that very instant. Could he really give over his power to a woman, be controlled, dominated by her. This was unreal. Chantal took the belt and flicked it against the dresser with force. “Crawl Now!” It seemed like a million miles between he and this powerful Nubian queen, no Goddess – Perfection. Again, Greg didn’t know what to do. Chantal spread her legs even wider and slid her finger inside her panties. She was rubbing her clit and Greg could tell, but he wanted to see, up close and personal.

This time, it was only a whisper. He wasn’t even sure he heard her correctly. “Come here little boy, come to Mommy.” In the perfect act of submission, he got down on his hands and knees and crawled towards her. Kneeling before her like that was an indescribable sensation. Chantal took her pump and placed it squarely on his shoulder. Never taking her finger off of her clit or her other hand off of the belt, she got into pleasuring herself. Her heel was digging into Greg’s flesh but he was sure the sensation pleasurable. He could smell pussy in the air, sweet, sexy pussy. His mouth was watering. She was keenly aware of his position and her control over him so she just leaned her head back against the mirror and rubbed the sensitive spot between her legs with passion. He was whimpering and his neck was strained upward because she was positioned higher than eye level at that particular moment. She took her fingers and slid her panties to the side. Beautiful was not the word to describe her pussy. Rather than being shaved, it seemed her baby soft hair naturally tapered to her mound. Her outer lips were soft and fat but they closed perfectly to hide her deepest recesses. Her inner flesh was the most glorious pink and he could tell how wet she was from the way it shined. Her clit was the size of the very tip of his pinky, the perfect bundle of nerves just waiting to be sucked. It peaked out from under its hood and called to him. Greg swallowed hard. His knees were hurting, his shoulder was in pain, his neck was cramped and his dick… there weren’t even words to describe it.

“Greg, you want to lick my pussy don’t’ you? You need my pussy don’t you?” He had waited his entire life to be subjected to such treatment. In his mind, he was going over how many times he had been the controller. Now he was being controlled.

“Please mistress, I need nothing more than to taste your sweet treasure.” He wasn’t even sure those words were coming out of his mouth. With the flick of her fingers, Chantal unhooked the straps of her garter belt. She looked down on him with pride. He was going to become the best submissive she had ever possessed. She could see it in his eyes. He had fire and strength but he was willing to please at any cost.

“Remove my stockings with you mouth. And be very careful not to run them.” The rush of adrenaline was out of this world. Chantal took the belt, placed it along the spine of his back, and slowly pulled it towards her. Her touch was so excruciatingly light it was painful. Greg swallowed hard. He was careful to use only his lips, not his teeth, lest he ruin the delicate nylons. She dug her heel in deeper to his shoulder. He couldn’t resist using his tongue to caress the smooth flesh of her legs. Laughing at him, she kicked her heels off and helped him take her stocking the rest of the way off. She placed her perfectly pedicured soft toes on his lips and teased him. Instinctively, he began to lick them. Impossible, how could her toes taste so sweet? He was using his tongue and lips all over her foot. Chantal was caught up in her own rapture. “Mmmmm, Greg, did I tell you that you had permission to pleasure my feet that way?”

Greg panicked. He knew the unspoken code, even if he had only experienced it in his mind before. “I’m sorry, please forgive me. All I wanted to do was to give you pleasure.”

“You understand that I’m going to have to punish you, don’t you Greg,” she whispered. His dick got harder than before, which he didn’t think was possible. Chantal went into a little speech about pleasure and pain, but it was strictly for her amusement at that point. Greg couldn’t hear a word. He was off in his own world. She signaled for him to follow her. She made him get on the bed in a kneeling position. “You have been a bad little boy Greg, I am going to have to spank you, and you understand that I don’t want to, but I have to.” All he could do was nod but she accepted that as sufficient because she was so aroused herself at that point. There was nothing more Chantal loved than seeing the dominant become the submissive. It gave her such a rush.

WHAP! The first blow came without warning. The sting spread throughout his entire body. There was no doubt that he experienced the feeling as pleasure but he cried out in pain. “More, please mistress, more.” He didn’t want to think about what any of it meant. All he knew right then was that he had never felt safer, or sexier. He didn’t have to be in control and that felt good. It felt damn good. To know that this woman could take him where he’d only ever dreamed. Whap! Whap! Whap! The heat spread across his ass. She was steadily reining down blows on him and he was overflowing with emotion. Whap, more pain, Whap, pleasure, Whap, ecstasy. Before he knew what hit him, Greg screamed out, “I’m cumming.” His cum came spurting out. Never in his life had he ever cum without direct stimulation to his dick.

Chantal moved to take advantage of the situation quickly. She turned him over and secured his arms to his four-poster bed with his ties. Facing the head of the bed, she climbed on top of him and placed her pussy just inches from his mouth. He could see it, smell it, he could virtually taste it. What he couldn’t do was touch it. His arms were tied so securely, he started to panic. What if she was crazy, out to hurt him seriously, rob him? What if . . . He was distracted by her lowering her pussy down onto his mouth. As much as his mind was racing, he could only concentrate on one task at that particular moment. Slick, that was the sensation he felt, her lips parted, and he gained access to her sweet treasure. It was so slippery, and sweet, and earthy. Heaven. She obviously knew what she wanted him to do because she worked his mouth like a fine tuned instrument. She moved back and forth, up and down, riding his tongue, lips, and mouth like a champion rodeo rider.

Greg did everything he could to work his mouth and make his lady cum. He nibbled on her fat lips, licked her slit, tongued her hole, and sucked her clit. He was not going to stop until she filled his mouth with nectar from the heavens. She was pulling on her nipples and getting all worked up. Her moaning became louder and louder, her hips were grinding away. “Greg, do you like being used?” All he could do was moan and lick and suck that much more. His arms were aching, his jaw was tired. He had no choice. He pointed his tongue and tried to fuck her mercilessly with it. Rhythmically, she bounced up and down. Greg’s face was wet with her desire. She coated his lips and face with her sweet sauce. She was teasing him. She rubbed her clit and moved her pussy to within inches of his mouth. Fuck, if he could only move his arms, grab her hips, and pull her to his hungry mouth. Unconsciously, Greg was thrusting his hips, begging for her to please put her pussy back on his mouth. “Please, may I have more!”?

“No baby,” she cooed, “It’s time for the ride of your life.” Chantal climbed off of Greg, heated as she was and desperate to cum her damn self. She walked to the foot of the bed and grabbed another belt. Greg’s dick jumped, remembering the indescribable pleasure he had experienced just a short while before with that accessory of pain. Chantal surveyed her prize. Here was this fine specimen of Black man, fine beyond description, lying helplessly tied to his own bed. He had 8 inches of fat meat sticking up proudly from his body, betraying his true feelings. She grabbed another tie and secured it around his eyes. He begged her to let him see. All he wanted to do was see. Silently she just walked around the bed, examining her “victim.” She ran her fingers over his nipples and pulled and twisted on them. His body twisted and contorted to the pain. She took the belt and lightly rubbed the leather over the fronts of his thighs and across his hips. “Are you scared Greg?” She asked that as she gently rubbed the belt over his dick and balls. Words were stuck in his throat. She climbed on the bed and started using her tongue to tease her little boy. He didn’t know where the sensations were coming from, or where the next one was going to land. She licked his lips, reminding him of the intense pleasure he had experienced just minutes before. She ran her tongue down his neck, across his shoulder blades. She sucked and bit his nipples. Greg couldn’t take any more.

“Please mistress, Please, fuck me. Just fuck me. Use me to make yourself cum. Please.” This was it, the defining moment of truth for Greg. He was helpless and he loved it. He had no control, over his body or his reactions. At that moment, the words came pouring out of his mouth. “This was not supposed to happen to me, yet you have done it. My fear at this moment is, what happens if I submerge myself completely and never return? I’ve gone to a place where I feel this restriction has become my freedom and where I gain so much pleasure from satisfying the very person who has claimed me. It is no longer about the satisfaction of my pleasure but I have begun to enjoy the sensations that cause your pleasure. The torments I feel are now delicious. I truly loved what I used to do, but will I love this more. That is what scares me. I know how arousing desperation feels, I know how utterly tempting complete and total submission is from both sides of the coin. This . . . there truly is nothing like it. I don’t want to lose this anytime soon. Please mistress, you have my control, I pray you use it wisely.”

This time, Chantal was frozen. She had been moved by his reflections. Never before had a man touched her so deeply. Pleasure belonged to Chantal to do with what she pleased. Greg’s arms were fatigued and tired from pulling against the restraints. Surely if she let him go, he would flip her over and ram his dick up in her so hard she would scream. Greg was paralyzed; he couldn’t move. The sensation of being restrained was almost too arousing. Chantal straddled his body, placed her hot pussy inches above his dick. She placed her delicate hand around the base of his dick. He wanted to see but he had no say in the matter. All he could do was wait. Enjoying her power immensely, Chantal rubbed the head of his dick back and forth on her slit. The heat was intense and Greg cried out in anguish. She used it to masturbate herself; really, the vision of him squirming around was more arousing than anything else. She reached back and played with his balls, rolling them around between her soft fingers. Without warning, she slammed her pussy down on Greg’s dick and they both moaned in sweet agony.

Greg felt like his dick was wrapped in the hottest, wettest, tightest piece of heaven he had ever felt. Chantal knew that she had met her match. His dick penetrated her like none she had ever had before. They fit. They fit perfectly as a matter of fact. It was a dance of lover where they worked out a perfect rhythm. She started bouncing up and down; he began thrusting into her, trying to throw her off. She held on and his dick hit every hot spot she had. She leaned close to him and started pinching his nipples and grinding her pussy all over his dick, just using her muscles to squeeze and work his dick. She was masterful in her control. Just when she thought that Greg could handle more stimulation she started fucking him again. His breathing was out of control. He felt light headed. His nuts were aching from his dick being hard so long, but he had never felt so much pleasure. Harder, Faster, stronger, there was no holding back now. Up and down she rode him. Her face was hot, and her body was covered with sweat. She was going to time it just right. “OK, motherfucker, tell me now, whose… dick… is … this…?”

At that moment, he knew how the woman in the club felt. “Oh fuck, Arghhh.” Neither one of them could take it anymore. Pleasure, pure, sweet, unadulterated pleasure washed over them at the same time. The boiling cum shot so hard up out of Greg’s dick; Chantal felt every single drop coat her insides. She squirted. Her cum flowed out of her body, coating Greg all over his thighs. He shook out of control. Before he drifted out of consciousness, she untied his arms, and he cradled her to him, wrapped in the essence of one another, completely.

The morning sun shone through the window and warmed Greg’s skin as he began to wake up. He arms were sore, his dick was still hard, and his ass was tender. He knew she wouldn’t be there when he opened his eyes, so he just lay there, trying to put it all in perspective. He had really been dominated, and it was just a slight indication of all he had hoped to experience. He knew at that very moment that he wanted to go further. He got up and looked around for the note that he knew would be there. Sure enough, taped to the bathroom mirror was a business card. Chantal Moore, Esq. Attorney at Law. He flipped the card over and it simply said:

Counselor,

In the courtroom, we shall be equals. In the bedroom, you will be my possession. Either way, prepare to battle…

Welcome to The Forbidden Fruit, a voyeurs journey into Black Erotica - the seduction of the mind, the orgasm of thought.

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