400 Days of Oppression (16 page)

She slid her hands over my body, up my stomach, and over my breasts, which had also regained most of their former size. They filled her hands, she tweaked each nipple, rolling them between her fingers.

“Your breasts are wonderful,” Angela said. She crawled up my body and sucked one of my nipples into her mouth. I sighed deeply, grabbing the back of her head and holding it against my chest while her tongue swirled around my nipple. Slowly, she kissed her way back down my body. I opened my eyes when I felt her tongue slide up inside me. That’s when I saw Kenyatta standing above us.

“Oh, shit!”

I scrambled away from Angela. She looked up, and when she spotted Kenyatta, the fear in her eyes was genuine and profound. I wondered what Kenyatta had done to her to make Angela so terrified of him.

“It’s great to see you two getting along so well,” he said, sneering in disgust. “Don’t stop just because I’m here. Keep going.”

“I-I’m sorry, Kenyatta. I didn’t mean to…” Angela stammered.

“I said, keep going. I believe you were licking my slave’s pussy. So, lick her pussy. Do it! Now!”

He grabbed Angela by the back of the head and forced it back down between my thighs.

“How often do you think the lady of the house licked her slave’s pussy? You are way off script, Angela. Are you trying to fuck this whole thing up? You trying to sabotage my shit?”

“No! I wouldn’t do that, Kenyatta! I swear! I was just...there were lesbians back then too and some of them had slaves. I bet this type of shit happened all the time.”

Kenyatta pushed her head back between my thighs, crushing her mouth into my sex. I could feel her lips trembling against my clitoris.

“I told you to keep licking!” Kenyatta bellowed. There was madness in his eyes. A chill of fear went through me as well. I didn’t know what he was going to do to us.

“And you! I’ve got something else for you to do.”

Kenyatta stripped out of his suit. He folded his sports coat, pants, shirt, and tie, and draped them carefully over the back of his lounge chair. Then he pulled off his pants and I was more than a little relieved to see that his cock was hard. If he was aroused, then he wasn’t that angry with me.

He walked over to the couch, his stiff cock bobbing in the air in front of him. Angela had begun ferociously licking, sucking, and even biting at my swollen labia. My fear gave way to pleasure as Angela’s talented tongue brutally lashed my engorged clitoris. I watched Kenyatta’s throbbing hard erection jab at my face and I opened my mouth to receive him. He was not gentle, as he thrust his cock between my lips and began raping my throat. His hard fingers gripped the back of my head and he thrust his hips forward, fucking my throat. I could feel his erection slide past my tonsils and I fought hard to stifle my gag reflex. Tears wept from my eyes as I struggled to keep from regurgitating all over Kenyatta’s magnificent penis.

Kenyatta eased his cock out of my throat, walked to the end of the couch, behind Angela, and ripped her shorts down.

“No! No, Kenyatta, don’t!” I begged. Angela glanced up from between my legs and there was an unfamiliar look in her eyes, sympathy. Then she grimaced as Kenyatta eased his cock inside her and began pounding her vagina while she continued sucking my clit and tears spilled down my cheeks. Kenyatta locked eyes with me. His eyes were ferocious. He was angry, but he was enjoying himself, enjoying my pain. Angela’s grunts and groans filled my ears and I screamed to drown them out.

We switched places. Kenyatta pulled out of Angela, flipped her over, then bent me over so my face was between her legs and hers between mine, then he smacked my ass several times while Angela fluttered her tongue across my clit like hummingbird wings. When he gripped my hips in his powerful hands and slammed his cock inside of me, the feel of Angela’s tongue on my clit and Kenyatta’s enormous cock thrusting deep inside me, brought me to a climax so powerful it felt like every muscle in my body was spasming at once. The pleasure was so overwhelming I didn’t think I could stand it. I collapsed on Angela’s face and she continued sucking my clit, bringing me to another orgasm and another and another. I lowered my head and stabbed my tongue into the sopping wetness between Angela’s thighs, returning the favor, licking her swollen clit until she screamed her pleasure at the top of her lungs.

Kenyatta withdrew his cock and ordered us both on to our knees. He slid his throbbing erection between my breasts, fucking my cleavage while Angela licked the head of his cock. My jealousy was gone now, incinerated in the first explosive orgasm. They were both my lovers now. I wanted to please them both, equally. When Angela began sucking Kenyatta’s cock, gagging and choking on it as she took his full length down her throat, I didn’t hesitate. I leaned down and began sucking and licking his balls.

His toes curled. His muscular thighs quivered. I knew he was about to cum. I stopped licking his balls and sat up straight, lifting my breasts so he could ejaculate on them. Angela stopped sucking his cock just as he was about to explode and began licking my nipples. Kenyatta ejaculated on my breasts and Angela’s lips and tongue simultaneously, and Angela licked it up, every drop, lapping the cum from my nipples and cleavage, the tip of his penis, and her own lips. It had been amazing, but I wasn’t sure what it meant for the game, the experiment. This wasn’t how it was supposed to go. Was the game ruined now? Was it over? I didn’t know and that made me nervous.

Kenyatta left us both on the floor and began to dress. I opened my mouth to speak, but Angela put a finger to my lips and shook her head. I had to admit that she knew him better than me, so I took her advice and kept my mouth closed.

“Have dinner ready when I get back.”

“You’re leaving?” Angela said.

Kenyatta scowled down at us and shook his head.

“I have to go back to work. I have clients to see. I only came home because I knew what you bitches were up to. We’ll talk about this when I get home.”

He traced a line with his finger from Angela to me to the couch when he said “This.” Then he turned and walked out the door, leaving Angela and I with a hundred questions, which was exactly what he had intended. He wanted us to drive ourselves crazy wondering what he was planning to do. I hoped he would let this threesome continue, but I couldn’t imagine whatever he was thinking of doing would be anything so pleasant.

“I’m sorry, Natasha. I really didn’t mean to fuck things up for you. I sorta like you. Really. Even if you are fucking my husband. I hope I didn’t ruin everything. I guess I kinda took advantage of the situation a bit.”

I didn’t say anything. I didn’t know what to say. All I could do was hope and pray Kenyatta would give me another chance.

C
HAPTER
IX

Angela and I worked in the kitchen together, cooking all of Kenyatta’s favorites. I seasoned a brisket and slow-cooked it in the oven on 300 degrees, while Angela made wasabi mashed potatoes and broccoli with garlic and butter. Then I threw a bunch of crab legs in a pot to boil. We were both dressed provocatively in corsets, silk panties, garters, and fishnet stockings. We had decided to try to reach Kenyatta through his stomach and his libido.

When Kenyatta walked in, he took one look at us and shook his head. Not to be deterred I dropped to my knees and began unbuttoning his pants.

“Let your kitten relax you, Master.”

Angela dropped down beside me and we both pulled out his cock and began licking it up and down. It was working, I could see the steely-eyed resolve in Kenyatta’s eyes begin to melt.

“I’ve made up my mind.”

The words hung in the air like a thundercloud. I tried to ignore them and concentrate on sucking his cock, but tears had already begun to well in my eyes. Angela didn’t stop. She was jacking him off while still licking the head of his cock.

“What do you think would happen to a slave if the master came home and found her fucking his wife?” Kenyatta said and I began to shiver. I knew. I knew what he was going to say before he even said it.

“He would whip her,” Angela said, still stroking Kenyatta’s throbbing erection. “He would whip them both.”

“And then?” Kenyatta said, glaring down at us.

“He would kill her? You can’t kill her, Kenyatta!”

“Don’t be silly! Slaves were expensive. You don’t destroy an expensive piece of property unless you don’t have any other choice.”

“He would sell her,” I spoke up. “If a master caught his slave in a lesbian act with his wife, if he didn’t kill her, he would sell her away.”

Kenyatta nodded and the tears began to flow from my eyes in a torrent.

“No,” Angela gasped. “I thought you said you wouldn’t sell her?”

“I told you the experiment wouldn’t be real if I didn’t. This just confirms it.”

He had been planning it all along. He was going to sell me to someone else, a new Master. I felt my heart tear slowly. I became lightheaded and almost passed out.

“Please, Master! Please don’t sell me! Whip me! Whip me to death, but don’t sell me!”

“It’s already done. Mistress Delia is coming to collect you in the morning.”

I wailed and threw myself at his feet.

“No! No, Master! Pleeeeeease!”

“Like I said, it’s already done. It has to be done.”

He pulled his now flaccid cock out of Angela’s grasp and tucked it back in his pants then he reached down and picked up a book, the book that had started all of this, a book I had come to dread,
400 Years of Oppression.
I didn’t want to hear what he had to say.

“No. No. No.” I was talking about the book as much as the idea of being sold to that huge leather dyke from the Society of “O.” At least it was a woman. The idea of Kenyatta selling me to another man would have been too much for me to take.

“Rebellious slaves were often separated from their families and sold away to other plantations. Often leaving a benevolent owner for a more stern and often crueler master. Some slaves came to love their masters and when they were sold away, were traumatized by both the loss of family and friends and the loss of their beloved masters and the plantations they had considered their home. The wives of slave-owners, who fathered children with slaves, were often the instigators who demanded the owner’s slave mistresses be sold away, leaving their children behind
.
”

I wanted to tell him I didn’t care anymore. I didn’t care about slaves who were sold away from their families, as long as I wasn’t sold, as long as I didn’t have to suffer the loss of my Master. I didn’t want to leave, but I knew it wouldn’t matter. There was nothing I could say to change his mind except the safe word that I could never utter.

“Master?”

“Yes?”

“Would you make love to me one last time?”

Angela and I were both still on our knees. Kenyatta’s mouth opened to speak, appeared to change his mind, closed his mouth and nodded. Angela hugged me, then stood up. She kissed Kenyatta on the cheek as she walked out of the room.

“Use the bedroom. You two need to be alone. I’m gonna watch some TV.”

I cried in Kenyatta’s arms that night. We made love slowly, lovingly. I whispered my love to him as I gasped with pleasure, crushed into the mattress beneath his heavily muscled body. His voice was tight, hoarse, when he croaked out a reply.

“I love you too, Kitten.”

I couldn’t see his eyes in the dark bedroom, even with the moonlight streaming through the open blinds, but I suspected he was crying too.

C
HAPTER
X

Mistress Delia's breasts were larger than my head. That was my first thought when I saw her walking up to the front door with those titanic mammaries squeezed into a corset that pushed them up beneath her chin like two pale melons. She looked soft and doughy. Her arm fat flapped like wings as she walked and her thighs, easily the circumference of my entire waist, rubbed together from the crotch to just above the knee. Her ass made mine look positively petite. It was the size of a pumpkin—two pumpkins—pressed together and squeezed into a red latex skirt. Her belly stuck out almost as far as her breasts. Everything on her body jiggled when she walked. Next to her, I looked practically emaciated.

I couldn’t help wondering if this was how Kenyatta saw me. I knew he’d been intimate with the rotund dominatrix. I wasn’t sure who had topped who, but I knew they had played before. I didn’t know if he had ever actually fucked her, but, for Kenyatta, the whip could be just as intimate as his cock. If he found this huge woman attractive, and he found me attractive, what did that say about me? Did we look the same in his eyes? I knew the stereotype of black men dating fat white chicks. I hated to think we justified that particular prejudice. Her face made all of that irrelevant, however.

She had the most beautiful eyes I’d ever seen, a brilliant emerald green that looked almost reptilian and contrasted with her flaming red hair. Her lips were painted blood red and her smile revealed perfectly straight, sparkling white teeth with long canines that made her look vampiric. That fat bitch was hot. I had to admit it. Still, I didn’t want to be her slave. I had only one Master, Kenyatta, but I would do as he said. If he wanted this bitch to own me, then I was hers.