1. My Perfect Pet


    Date: 10/27/2014, Categories: Fiction, Anal, Ass to mouth, Bi-sexual, Black, Gay, Interracial, Author: afroerotik, Rating: 50, Source: sexstories.com

    balanced, sane, and as charming as my vanilla persona is as well. Today, after lots of bumps in the road, Michael has become all that I had ever hoped for and dreamed of in a submissive. More than his miraculous social transformation that allowed him to perfectly parrot my positions on race and racism in public; I expertly and patiently crafted and molded him into the single-most filthy slut, cum whore, and insatiable queen addicted to black dick I had ever encountered. His boicunt stays wet, throbbing, and ready for fucking at the drop of a hat, like a good whore always is. Even in chastity, he remains constantly aroused and dripping, in a persistent state of horniness. I allow him to maintain his job but he has voluntarily all but given up his regular social life, friends, family, and outside interests for our D/s relationship. Behind closed doors, immediately, from the very milli-second he walks beyond the majestic foyer of my custom home after work, he is subjected to some sort of extreme sexual situation where his nasty butthole is stretched, filled, and fucked relentlessly. Every day is a new adventure to see how far I can push him, to see how many loads of cum he can take, to see what sorts of extreme and nasty things I can think of and to get him to a sub space where he not only enjoys my warped demands but where he craves, needs, and BEGS for more. Honestly, I think his depth of perversion goes beyond my creative scope but for now I keep finding new and innovative ...
    ways to add variety to our repertoire of kinky games that seem to keep him satisfied. Well, at least as much as he can be satiated. Reflecting back, our first meeting was extreme by most standards; it was pretty typical for the sorts of encounters that we’ve come to share however. I remember very vividly that first Friday evening as we dined at a cute little bistro on the river. Arriving early, he was nervous and fidgeting as he sat at the bar waiting not so patiently. I arrived exactly on time with my usual flair that turned heads when I walked in. I made sure to exaggerate my moves, sway my hips accented by the click of my high heels on the wooden floor. I extended my hand in greeting and Michael stared in disbelief, frozen to his bar stool. If I had said, “BOO!” I’m sure he would have pissed his pants right there in public. His hands shook with nerves as we were seated for dinner and he held my chair. I almost got up from the table and walked away I was so irritated with his inability to have a normal conversation. If the night wasn’t so beautiful and the view wasn’t so damned spectacular I would have excused myself 15 minutes into the evening. I kept saying, “Take a deep breath,” and eventually, he started to relax, to gain control of his nerves and we began having a very pleasant exchange about the intricacies of straight ahead jazz and the wretched scum they call smooth jazz. We were able to converse freely and comfortably about all things kinky, casually discussing ...
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