This is still very much a work in progress. But, to honor the commitment I made to Nehighlander, I am posting what I consider to be publishable. Since you have given me so many positive compliments, I am posting this story here, first, on the internet. After all, this story was inspired by the 'White Ladies Sold' forum thread! Oh, and don't worry, it is far from finished. I will work on the 'good' parts to come this weekend. White Lady Sold by Got2 My name is Kate, I am 33 years old, blond hair, blue eyes. I was born in, and still reside in, a small city in Devon, England. I’m told I have very white skin. I keep myself in trim shape at the gym, so guys flirt with me all the time. I tend to be a control freak in every aspect of my life except one: the bedroom. In bed, having sex really anywhere, I like to be dominated, spanked, drilled hard and put away wet. Recently, on holiday to the United States, I was subjected to a horrifying, brutal, degrading and abusive sexual assault. But, honestly, it was a fantasy come true. This is the story. If you are a gentle reader, or easily offended by hard adult sexual topics, stop here, now. I am married to a wonderful forty year old man named Jonathan. He treats me so well; indulges my need to be in control in social situations, in our daily activity and around our home. He’s your typical middle age man, balding and starting to get overweight in the tummy. We have been married for just over ten years; I love him dearly. However, there is a problem. Jonathan is lacking ‘in bed’ Lacking physically, and lacking in technique and stamina. Jonathan’s penis, I never call it a cock, is just three inches when erect. When he’s not erect, his little penis retracts almost into his body. With his foreskin and all, it looks like a tiny acorn. To his credit, when we make love, Jonathan tries to do his best, but I can’t take his little “3 incher” seriously. He mounts me, tries to poke and twirl his cock around inside of me, but in under five minutes, after a lot of grunting and panting, he is done, spent and flaccid. If I am lucky, he will use a big phallus on me so I can achieve orgasm. I keep a large black dildo in the nightstand drawer along with spare fresh batteries, because it gets a lot of use. We are still, after ten years of marriage, childless. Oh, we have tried. Read books, watched videos, eaten healthy foods, oysters and all, but still, Jonathan and his “3 incher” have not been up to the task of impregnating me. But perhaps, at this moment, after our trip to the USA, I am with baby. That detail lies ahead. Jonathan and I hoped that our holiday to The United States of America would invigorate our sex life. New excitement, new sites to see, different hotel beds, lots of sex and perhaps I would catch that magic silver swimmer and become pregnant. No birth control for me for the past several years. We timed the trip so that I would be past my period and into the most fertile time of my cycle. I was giddy with the thought of the adventure; little did I realize the horror and the excitement that was in store. We arrived at the busy New York City's of JFK airport at ten in the morning. After collecting our bags, we proceeded to Passport Control. It was there that I received my first US cultural experience. He was looking straight into my eyes as I handed him my passport, six foot tall and black as a panther in a spotless blue uniform. I was so taken aback by his pure animal power and authority, I almost dropped my passport. His eyes devoured me as he grabbed Jonathan’s passport. Our eyes met. As we spoke, his eyes inspected me, thoroughly, up and down my body. His deep baritone asked simple questions: “business or pleasure”, “how long do you plan to stay”, “anything to declare”, but his eyes, all the while, were undressing me. I was not offended, I admit, it gave me goose bumps realizing I was his distraction from his long boring hours at work. In my own mind I imagined this large black stud naked before me. His large hands, thick arm muscles, broad chest and deep voice, hinted at immense physical power. I imagined his cock, long, black, thick. He was the sort of man that I always fantasized about, a man who would dominate me, pierce me, take me. My body responded, too. I felt flush, weak in the knees and a bit wet in the knickers. The encounter was over in moments, unfortunately. Butterflies fluttered in my stomach as we arranged transport to Manhattan. I brushed off the feelings as holiday jitters from being in the US for the first time. I was also a bit frisky, sexually, because I was at my most fertile time of the month. Our drive into Manhattan was uneventful, but the roads were very congested. Check-in at The New Yorker Hotel went smoothly. After that, Jonathan and I took in the usual sights of New York: a tour bus, Rockefeller Center, Times Square, dinner at Del Fresco's on The Avenue of the Americas, then back to The New Yorker. We were both tired, but Jonathan displayed no interest when I put on my slinky nightie and climbed into bed next to him. “So, okay,” I thought, we are both tired. I'll try to knock me up tomorrow night.” He was asleep in minutes, but I stayed awake for a bit more. I slowly fingered myself to orgasm, shamelessly fantasizing of that black Passport Officer’s cock, his cock penetrating, dominating me as he rode me. I slept very deeply. The next morning, after a little shopping and walking around, we returned to the hotel to get ready for our big outing of the day. Jonathan and I enjoy fine art. Later in the day, there was to be a big and exclusive art gallery showing, black tie/evening dress, wine and cheese event, at Art 101 in the Williamsburg section of Brooklyn, for which we were lucky to have secured tickets. We were both very excited to be able to attend. The tourist guide book describes Williamsburg as being ‘trendy’ and hipster along with some poverty stricken areas mixed in. I spent a great deal of time in the bathroom. Showering, putting on my makeup, I even trimmed my pubic hair, removing all hair from around my labia, leaving only a small triangle of blond hair over my pubic mound. I planned to instruct Jonathan to lick me to orgasm before his main event. I hoped an orgasm might open me fully; get me more receptive to his sperm. That work completed, I put on sheer black stockings, garter belt and skimpy black silk panties. I wanted Jonathan to be surprised and fully aroused for our lovemaking. Men so love my long legs. Husband Jonathan likes me in a garter belt, so I rarely wear one for him. A golden dress, somewhat revealing in the front and with a side low cutaway to reveal, flaunt, my shapely legs. Checking the results in the mirror, I felt like a tigress ready for the hunt. I won’t bore you with the details of the show, but about halfway through, I encountered him. It was not his well tailored Armani suit, his height, his bald black head, nor his Rolex watch or gold chain around his neck that intrigued me. It was his arrogant, demeaning tone and speech. “Yes,” he went on after my ear caught the first sentence. “My stable now is all White.” “Horses. . . ?” I thought. “It’s the White Ladies that bring me the most. White, trim and fine. They are my best earners, so that is all I keep in The Stable now. The sluts, they so enjoy being sold.” He went on, bragging to a well dressed white man who seemed to be nodding in approval! I don’t know if it was the Champagne, or being in a foreign city, or merely my reaction to his arrogant male tone that caused me to act, but something inside motivated me to do it, to confront him. ”Pardon me," I said as I strode directly toward him. "Did I just hear you discuss the SELLING of White Ladies as though they are horses in a STABLE?” I held my head high, champagne glass raised as though to throw at him. Without moving a muscle, his eyes locked onto mine. “Of course, miss,” he said in a dismissive tone. “I put my white ladies to work for me. I enjoy beautiful and fine things. White women are no different than art,” he said, waving his arm in the air, “or horses in a stable. I can only ride one or two at a time, so the rest I sell or dole out to other men to enjoy as favors.” “Sir,” I almost spat at him, “White Ladies are not objects to be SOLD by you or any man. We are not property. No gentleman would ever treat a woman as an object to be sold or lent, as though she were a horse.” This large black was now grinning at me. “If what you say is true,” I went on, indignant and full of fire, "then you are no man, you are a shameless pimp. Your ladies are nothing but tramps. You are uncivilized and unfit for a place of culture like this fine art gallery.” I turned and walked away. His brazen laughter, as arrogant as his speech and demeanor, echoed off the walls of the gallery. I stomped my heels louder to drown out his crude sounds, but I did hear his last words, "It will be fun to tame a wild filly like that and teach her to respect her man." I did not acknowledge such a crude comment, keeping my back to him, not even glancing back, I strode across the room to my Jonathan. He could tell I was upset. “What was that all about”, he inquired. “I just overhead that ‘man’ back there refer to ‘Selling’ white women. Ladies as if they were horses to sold!” I paused, my lips still trembling in fury, “While I don’t believe it, to discuss such a thing, so crass, here in Art Gallery, was more than I could take. I gave him my thoughts on the subject. I set him right. Selling White Ladies, like some pimp, like a Barbary Pirate of centuries ago. Indeed!” I was still upset. “Careful darling,” Jonathan advised, putting his arm around my shoulders as if to shelter me, “In this part of New York City, drug dealers make fortunes. They run their own places like fiefdoms, because, to them, that is what they are. Best not to cross them, best not to insult them.” But of course, I already had. The rest of the experience at the art show was uneventful. I saw the Black Man and his friend leave soon after our encounter. “Good riddance,” I thought. By the time we left, the wine was going to my head and the sun had set. Jonathan had stayed sober enough to drive us back to Manhattan. I daydreamed about the Brute from the Gallery and His White Lady ‘fillies’ he SOLD. A pimp selling his Women, white women at that. Buyers, ready to pay cash for sex. Cash transaction for sex. Deep down inside, it had always been my fantasy. To be used in the bedroom and paid for it. Oh, thrill of being sold, the taboo of being possessed, being the property of a powerful Black Man. It was not the sound, nor any real pain, but the shock that I remember. A huge SUV rammed our car from behind while we were at a red light. Within seconds, three black men in hoodies, pulled us from our car. Two of them lifted me, dragged me by my arms and legs, to their SUV. Jonathan was thrown in beside me before either of us could utter a sound. “Shut up Bitch and chew on this,” was all I heard as a rag was stuffed into my mouth. Before the cloth bag was thrown over my head, I could see our car being driven away by a black teenager. The SUV sped from the scene like a bull at Pamplona. It didn’t stop for anything, accelerating on the straightaways, coasting, often skidding, around turns. The roar of the engine was frightening. One of the blacks kept his boot on my back while another tied my hands behind me with a plastic zip tie. My mind was foggy from the shock and the wine. The ride lasted no more than ten minutes. At the speeds we were traveling, who could tell what distance we had covered. At last the SUV slowed down, its wheels crunching on gravel. Before we stopped, one of Them ran his fingers through my hair and down the exposed skin of my back, sending shivers of fear down my spine. His thick black paws on my flesh revolted me! He crowed, laughing, “Oh, Master JJ will enjoy breaking in this one, nice blond hair and soft skin, the way he likes them.” His other companions only laughed like vicious hyenas. ”Five-Oh clear,” was the only communication we heard as we were dragged from the SUV. I was pushed into a building and up two flights of stairs by the two black men flanking me. Behind me, I could hear them pulling Jonathan, dragging his feet. I heard doors close behind me as I was thrown into a cold leather chair. I heard Jonathan being forced to sit in another chair. I was about to have a nervous breakdown; fear, shock and anger welled up inside me. ”Don’t say a thing BITCH,” was the order. A sharp metal object was put to my neck. When the bag was removed from my head, I could see figures moving around in the darkness of a dingy room, Jonathan was seated facing me, shaking with fear, as dazed and confused as I. One of them warned me not to speak, again, as he pulled the wet rag from my mouth. In an instant, a large plastic ball was shoved into my mouth. Strange nylon straps on its side, were snapped together behind my head. I felt bridled like someone's horse! Jonathan suffered the same treatment. The large black man in charge grabbed my shoulders, forcing me to my feet. He stood against me, ran his hands behind me, gripped my buttocks, and worked his hands under my dress! I struggled, tried to scream in protest. That only brought a sharp, painful, slap to my left butt cheek. “Be still bitch,” he commanded, “or I beat you hard”. ’This is it,’ I thought, ‘I am to be raped right here, right at this moment, by this filthy beast in this filthy place.’ My mind reeled at the awfulness of the reality. His hand under my dress made contact with my panties. Leaning his chest against my breasts, he pushed his right hand under me pressing his fingers into my pussy through the thin silk of my panties. I let out a whimper, a plea to heaven, as my eyes filled with tears. “This can’t be!” I thought. Then, as though satisfied with his assault, he withdrew his hand. He hiked up my dress with both hands. I could hear Jonathan’s muffled protests. Without hesitation, my tormentor curled his fingers around the straps of my panties, pulling them down to my thighs. I felt horror, exposed to this brute, gagged and hands tied behind my back! He took his time sliding my panties down to my ankles, guiding my feet out of them. Standing against me, looking directly into my eyes, he brought my panties to his nose, inhaling deeply. “My reward, bitch, from Master JJ if I brought you here unharmed with no issues from the Po-leece”. I closed my eyes as he pushed me back into the chair. He held apart the lower slits of my dress, making sure my now exposed underside made contact with the cold leather, increasing my panic and shame. My pussy quivered in fear, or cold, or cold fear. In seconds, they were gone. Doors closed behind us; Jonathan and I were alone in the darkness, gagged and tied. We were too terrorized to stand or struggle. We sank into the chairs and waited. It seemed that many, many hours passed. Darkness, cold sweat, shivers, our minds reeling, and, finally, resignation to fate. In what was probably only two hours or so, I heard a double set of footsteps come up the steps and stop at the door. My stomach tightened in renewed fear. A light switched on. I could now see Jonathan seated in front of me, beads of sweat on his brow, looking down at the floor, abject fear in his eyes. The moment the man stepped past my shoulder, I knew who he was. That suit, that watch, those dark dark hands, the thick legs. Him! The pimp from the art gallery. He stepped in front of me, his waist at the level of my forehead. I could not bring myself to make contact with my captor. His powerful hand did all the work, gripping my chin and forcing me to look up. “So, this is the arrogant little bitch that insulted me in front of my friend,” he said, his dark brown eyes piercing my own blue eyes. “No?,” he inquired. “Not going to make any sharp tongued response to me now with that ball gag in your mouth? Let me help you. We are in one of my safe houses; that means I own this place and all around it. No sense in screaming or carrying on, trying to summon help. In this section of Brooklyn, no one will come to your aid.” His hand slid up along the top of my head and undid the snaps holding the ball gag. I gagged and spat the vile thing onto the floor, my coughs and chokes echoing off the bare, paint pealing walls. “You BEAST!” I shouted. “Let us go this instant!” My eyes swelled with tears. I felt the sting of his backhand on my cheek before the echo of my words reached my ears. I was dumbstruck with pain. Tears began to flow down my cheeks as I struggled to catch my breath. After a few moments, he leaned toward me. “From now on, when speaking to me you will address me as ‘Master JJ’ or as 'SIR'. Is that understood?” “Yes, Master JJ”, I barely whispered as his rough hand took hold of my chin once again. “You are a fine looking bitch. My ‘Wild Filly’, I shall call you. In time, if you are lucky, if you can be trained well, I shall add you to my stable. I shall ride you at my pleasure, and if so inclined, lend you to others, at a reasonable fee.” He finished with laughter. “You can’t”. . . Sir Master JJ”, I added with reluctance. “My Filly, I can if it pleases me. But you will have to earn that privilege. For now, the taming process begins. What is your name, my filly?” My God, this beast, this black thug was tasking me, controlling of me and I was surrendering to his will, against all my inclinations. “Kate, Sir”, I responded, looking at the floor. Master JJ grabbed the back of my neck and forced me to look up toward him. “Look at me when you address me, My Filly Kate.” I blinked several times at the sting of the tears still in my eyes. “Yes, Master JJ. I understand.” “Then understand this”, he said with a gleaming smile, “a man of my stature and reputation can not allow himself to be ridiculed, taunted or insulted in public. There has to be a response, a retribution. So, understand, what is about to transpire now is business and only business. You brought this on yourself by insulting me, and this is what has to happen in response.” I shivered slightly, now he was going to rape me. “STAND!” he commanded. “Sir,” it took all my willpower to force my feet to hold my weight. I think my knees were trembling. “Turn and face the chair.” I complied. I had no choice. Jonathan was whimpering through his gag, helpless to do anything but make things worse. Master JJ’s black companion stood silently in the corner, holding a large leather satchel in one hand. With my back toward him, still in my high heels, I felt him approach me. He took my bound hands and snipped off the nylon strap holding them secure. The ‘click’ resounded off the walls. I felt rewarded to have my arms at my sides again. “Now, bend over and grip the chair with both hands. Do not, under any circumstance, remove your hands from the back of that chair.” Silently, I complied. “Spread your legs wider.” As I did, he grabbed the sides of my dress tossing the side slits, up over my back. Stepping back, he commented, “Nice legs, toned and firm and white like I like them. Lovely black nylon stockings,” he commented, “and a garter belt. Something special for the hubby for when you got back from the gallery?” “Yes, Master JJ. It was to be a Special Night. I am in my fertile cycle. Tonight I was to be. . .” “Impregnated.” Master JJ finished. “That pathetic creature behind me, the one who has not even summoned the courage to stand while his lovely wife has been made to display her bare ass to me…was to impregnate you tonight?” He started a deep laugh. Tears welled in my eyes as I heard Master JJ unbuckle his belt. “Here is comes, my mind exploded. Knowing I am fertile, he will rape me over and over, right now, give me a black bastard!” I shivered so hard I almost lost my grip on the chair. The shame of my position! I heard the leather of his belt fold over. CRACK! It Once again, the pain registered before the sound. He had spanked my ass with his leather belt. “That, Filly Kate, is the start of our Business”. He laughed again. “That little one was to get your attention. I shall give you ten swats with my belt. That will be the start of our business tonight. You shall get ten more with a cane before the night is over, but that is for later.” My God! Spanked by this brute like some baby! The pain of it, on my bare ass, was momentarily overshadowed by my shck. “After each swat, you shall thank me and ask for one more as punishment for your rudeness to me at the Gallery. If you move your hands from the back of the chair, to rub yourself from the pain, or try to close your legs, the swat does not count.” “UNDERSTOOD?” It was a command. I nodded my head. My tears continued to flow, “Yes, Master JJ,” was all I could do or say. The nerves on my bare bum already tingled from the first smacks. He took a step closer, put his hands between my legs to adjust my stance a little wider, then pushed my head lower on the chair, forcing my back to arch. I had never felt more vulnerable, ass in the air, exposed. God! My pussy lips were in full view. I jumped the instant I felt Master JJ’s fingers slide up my inner legs to make contact with my pussy. Only his index and middle finger touched me there. It was electric. Sent shivers down my spine. He felt me as though he were examining me at a market, curling the tips of his fingers to make contact with my clit. The Devil. Then he pushed his fingers forward to explore my mound, made contact with the triangle of my trim pubic fur. “Ummmm, nice,” my captor whispered into my left ear. “I like a woman shaved like that. We will both enjoy it later.” Later! So, he did intend to rape me after he was through spanking me. I could hardly stand now. He stepped back. The first blow landed on the upper part of my ass. It stung, but not that bad. Then I remembered. . . “Thank you Master JJ. Please forgive me for my rudeness at The Gallery. If it pleases you, may I have another?” What choice did I have but to comply? SWAT! “Oh!” The second smack was harder than the first. “Each one will get harder than the previous until I taper at the end.” Again, I thanked him, told him I was sorry for my rudeness, asked for another. Two! Shssssh-Swack! The third one caught me dead center on my ass, inches above my exposed pussy. The pain . . . no longer did I feel exposed or ashamed, only pain. True to his word, each swat got harder till the sixth. My ass was on fire, throbbing with pain. After the seventh swat he stepped toward me and ran his big hands along my ass. His cool hands felt so good, so soothing, like a gift. I knew he could feel the heat on my ass, view the redness of his work. “Good little Filly Kate,” he extolled like some admiring father. “Just a few more, and we are through with this part of business.” I bent my head lower and clenched my teeth. ”Thank you, Master JJ.” Three more swats hit my abused ass. The pain was a fire in my ass and a blinding light in my brain. I wanted to rub my tortured ass so badly. The tenth swat was a gentle smack. He kept me in that head down, ass up position for a while afterward. I could hear him replacing his belt, buckling it. Then, a few steps to the corner of the room. Now, his footsteps drew closer to me. Oh! His fingers made contact with my bare, red, burning ass. But, something was different. I felt a cool wetness across where his hand rubbed. Cooling ointment! So, he was not an uncaring brute after all. He covered my entire backside with the ointment. I was intensely grateful. Silently, I thanked him for his thoughtfulness, for this small kindness. As he finished, he pressed his left hand between my legs. I could hear myself whimper. His cool hand cupped my pussy, pressing into it, caressing my most private area. I could not resist, but I felt my cheeks flush red with shame. Master JJ’s fingers spread my nether lips and probed me inside. My face was red because I knew what his fingers would find. My wetness! Despite my anger and fear, my body had betrayed me. I had become wet with excitement as my captor spanked me. His power, my shame, the pain of each swat had made me a little more wet, a little more excited. Now, he knew the truth of it. I had enjoyed the experience, even with the pain. My internal juices coated his fingers and he probed inside of me. “Ha, ha! Good!” he boomed. “The BEAST!” I thought. Now he knew of my arousal and was proud of himself. “Sit, Filly Kate. Let the cool chair sooth you,” he commanded. Now it was my turn to lift my dress so as my ass could make that sweet soothing contact with the leather. “Now to deal with this pathetic creature who would not rise to defend his beloved wife, one that he wanted to get pregnant tonight.” He laughed as he walked closer to the seated Jonathan whose eyes still betrayed his fear. “Up! You!” he snorted, taking Jonathan by his jacket collar. My mouth opened in silent shock as Master JJ put his hands on Jonathan’s belt, then undid his trousers. “Let’s see if you are a Man at all,” he said, as Jonathan’s trousers fell to his thighs, followed by his boxer shots. Out popped Jonathan’s little Jewels. His flaccid penis had pressed tightly into his body, retreating in fear and shame, barely sticking out past his sac. “Just as I thought!” Master JJ proclaimed. “Weak, pathetic, little pink bean of a penis.” Jonathan sobbed through his ball-gag. “Ah, and it’s still got it’s foreskin.” Master JJ noted with a loud voice. He snapped his fingers at his companion/assistant and pointed to Jonathan’s groin. His assistant silently opened the leather bag he was carrying and put on a pair of purple latex gloves. Master JJ stepped over to me, sat me on his lap, across his muscular thighs. He his arm circled my shoulder, rubbed my back as though to comfort me. My eyes widened as his assistant produced a thin, sharp knife and walked toward my Jonathan. “My God! What did they intend to do? Were they going to harm Jonathan? Castrate him because of, of me? Oh dear God!” The assistant bent toward Jonathan, grasped his acorn penis and pulled it toward him. “You have a choice to make, Filly Kate,” Master JJ spoke as he held me. “In America, boys get their foreskins removed at birth. Your boy over there still has his, tiny that it is. I want his removed! It’s an old custom. Captives were routinely deprived of their foreskins as a humiliation of losing a battle in Africa. I’d like your Boy’s foreskin as a trophy of his defeat. Call it a business expense, ha, ha, ha, ” he laughed, rubbing my back. “Oh! No, please Master JJ, don’t. . . ” I had to speak up. I did not want my husband harmed, deprived, in that way. “My Filly,” he broke in, “I have a business proposal for you.” I snapped my head to him. “You expected to be raped tonight, yes?” I nodded. “Despite what you think of me, what you assumed of me at the Gallery earlier, I am not a rapist. What is mine is given to me freely, to have, to take, to make my own. I have never raped a woman in my life, and I will not start with you tonight.” My back muscles relaxed, just a bit. “No, I ask, or I am given. I never take without asking, though, usually I am the one who is asked for sexual favors.” He laughed again. His hand circling my back again. Bastard! What is demanded through threat of violence is still rape. I dared not point this subtle point out of my captor. “So, Filly Kate, here is my proposal:” he waved his hand at Jonathan’s general direction. “We can have Jonathan here deprived of his foreskin; a simple, but painful, procedure. Right here, right now.” My toes curled in anger. “Then, our business is done. The score is settled, both of you suffer a bit, an indignity, for the one that YOU caused me in pubic. At dawn, you will both be blind folded, Jonathan bandaged too, of course, and left on a street corner far from here, but near your abandon car. Away you go, for the rest of your trip in the USA. Poor Jonathan initiated into the tradition of circumcision we have here in the USA.” “Oh, please, oh. . .” “Or,” Master JJ continued, “with your lovely dress, you can accompany me to one of my Social Clubs tonight as my guest, my companion, My Filly. The night is still young, as the saying goes. In Brooklyn, parties last long into the night. We drink, we dance. Others, who already know of your insults to me, see you on my arm, as my welcomed guest. Then later, you join me in one of the rooms at the club that is reserved for us. You offer yourself to me, willingly. Should I choose, we have sex. The deal, still, is contingent on you pleasing me. A bad performance in bed and poor Jonathan boy gets circumcised the next morning and you both get dumped in a nasty neighborhood, nowhere near your abandon car.” his eyes locked onto mine, “business,” was his last word. Oh! The brutish bastard! To keep my husband from harm, to preserve his foreskin, I’d have to satisfy this fiend, this seller of white ladies, this pimp, this. . .this. He pressed his face into mine, kissed me on the lips! His arm circled my neck, his hand held the back of my head. I kissed him back! His chest, powerful, muscled, pressed into my breasts. His arms, both of them, circled my back to pull me closer to him, to surround me. His hands gently made contact with my shoulder blades, worked their way up the sides of my neck. Our tongues swirled together, dancing in our mouths. The moment his fingers touched the base of my neck, that area where a woman’s neck joins her shoulders, that special place we love to be touched, I curled my toes again, this time to resist the orgasm that was building within me. Seated in his lap, his powerful hands caressing me, I could feel my pussy flood again in arousal. I’m not sure who ended the kiss. Did he feel my body surrender to his touch? “There,” he said as our faces separated. “You made a good decision, Filly Kate.” I was still in a ‘state’ when he motioned for me to stand. As he stood, he looked at Jonathan, “you are in luck, boy. She’ll be with me tonight and you get to keep that ‘skin’ of yours. Don’t worry a bit, I’ll make sure she comes back safe and well pleasured.” His attitude both angered and impressed me. Then he reached into the front pocket of his suit coat and produced a small, thin, golden ring. It looked too small for my finger. “For me?” I asked. Master JJ shock his head. Then he pressed his mouth close to my left ear and whispered, “it’s called an infibulation ring. In ancient Rome and in the slave South, a slave’s penis was pierced through the foreskin, then through the glans and out the tip of the slave's penis opening. This effectively sealed the slave’s foreskin to his penis, preventing him from having an erection. It was an effective slave chastity device and a humiliating one too.” I turned to look at Master JJ in almost disbelief. “While you and I have our fun tonight, your husband’s little penis will be secured like a Slave. It’s all about power, domination and control.” He was right. His power was having an effect on me, making me even more hornier, more into him. He put his hands on the tops of my shoulders. “Don’t worry, we shall give him a mild sedative for the pain, it’s a simple piercing and then it’s done, over in a few minutes. Let us spare your husband the embarrassment of having you watch him ‘get done’. Undo my pants and suck my cock, don’t even turn around to see Jonathan.” It did not take more than a moment for me to comply. I slid my hands over His chest, feeling his strong muscles underneath his shirt. Looking up at his face, I slithered down his body until my knees touched the floor. Master JJ snapped his fingers. His assistant walked toward him and JJ dropped the tiny golden ring into his hand. The assistant walked toward Jonathan, whose genitalia were still exposed. My fingers quickly worked the belt, button and zipper of Master JJ’s pants. I knew it would be large, but I l yelled “Oh-wow!” when his fully erect cock shot into view. It was magnificent, beautiful. Sleek, huge, shiny, ebony. Fearsome. His cock was circumcised. “Do they to that to all males in the USA?” I asked myself. It was so big, thick, long and strong; the biggest cock I had ever seen, twice as long at my hand, at least nine inches long, thicker than twice the width of my thumb and sooo hard! I held it in both hands, caressed it with my fingers, overwhelmed at the thought of this manly tool in my most delicate parts. It did not take long for me to part my lips, to take it into my mouth. I was caressing Master JJ’s glans with my tongue when I first, heard Jonathan's scream of pain, muffled by the ball-gag. An electric shiver went down my spine, at the awesome power of fear. I imagined the first piercing had been through his foreskin. Poor Jonathan! Quickly, I engulfed Master JJ's cock in my mouth. Sliding my lips up and down his shaft while my tongue swirled circles up and down the underside. As I had hoped, the sucking sounds I was making drowned out most of Jonathan’s second, louder and more anguish-filled, scream. I could hear him pounding his feet on the hardwood floor. I guess the sedative was simply not enough to take away all the pain. Master JJ massaged my head with his large hand. His breathing quickened from my efforts on his cock. He filled my entire mouth with his Manhood. After Jonathan’s moans subsided, Master JJ lifted my head from his Cock. It made a popping sound as my lips separated. Master JJ smiled, looking down toward me. I smiled back, my lips still coated with saliva. He shook his head up and down, locking his eyes on mine. “Good,” he continued to whisper, pointing to the leather satchel on the floor. There is a make up case in there, some towelettes and a selection of perfume. The next door on your right is a bathroom. Go, freshen yourself up, we are going to have a good time tonight. Look your best.” I walked past Jonathan, not saying a word. I could not, not even think of hugging him. I did not want my husband to see the desire in my eyes. I was possessed, enthralled by JJ's magic, his power, his will. I wanted him, tonight! I spent a long time in that bathroom, alone with my thoughts. A simple unshaded light casting harsh shadows around the small bathroom. I washed away the streaks of tears from my face, re-applied foundation and whatever makeup was available to make myself appealing. All the while my pantyless pussy pulsated with horny anticipation. I was too nervous, too worked up, had too many butterflies in my stomach to feel shame. My thoughts were focused on Master JJ; this captor, this sophisticated brute, this magnificent specimen of a man I would be pleasuring tonight. This night! “I must get him to wear a condom,” I thought past my current state of arousal. “If not, then I would probably end up carrying his baby!” Wonderful as that might be, there would still be the issue of explaining the baby's dark skin. Nevertheless, the thought of carrying the baby of this powerful man increased my lust. I was at the mercy of my hormones. I turned off the light and strode down the hallway. Back to my Captor, my Master…my…my lover.