An Edited Life, Part 4

Introduction:
My mind’s fog was shattered by the pain from throughout my body. It seemed as if every muscle was sore.
My arms, legs and neck ached from the position I’d been forced to remain in for hours the night before. My ass and pussy were raw and caked in cum from the dozen cocks that had repeatedly found pleasure in them Saturday night. My jaws even hurt when I groaned as I tried to move.
I lay still for several moments, afraid to encourage my body to torture me, and it was during this time that I realized that the only element of my life that was wrecked more badly than my physical self was my career.
After I’d fallen asleep in his bed, Andre Gregory – my boss and now, it seemed, my Master – had removed the posture collar and matching wrist and ankle cuffs from me, leaving me completely naked. When I finally tried to move off the bed, my legs gave and I whimpered as I crashed to the floor on my hands and knees.
“What the fuck have I done?” was my only thought as I remained on all fours, silently debating with myself over the merits of trying to stand.
I turned back toward Andre’s bed and climbed up its side till I was on my knees, leaning against it.
Andre startled me when his hands cupped my armpits and lifted me to my feet. He turned me slowly, as if he understood the agony I was in, and held me close to him as he kissed me good morning.
After ending the kiss, Andre lifted me from the floor and carried me to the living room, sitting in the recliner that matched his sofa, holding me.
My feelings toward Andre were growing increasingly complicated. As he held me, I felt protected, perhaps even loved. Having him inside me, though challenging, felt natural, as if he belonged there. But the collar, the cuffs, and the gangbang – and with those participants, in particular – left me feeling degraded, humiliated.
“Why have you done this to me?” I asked, in little more than a whisper.
Andre didn’t respond immediately, as if choosing his words carefully.
“Gabi, each day for the past six months we’ve worked side by side,” he began. “I’ve been overwhelmed by everything about you; your intelligence, your strength, your beauty. At some point – and I can’t tell you exactly when it happened – I decided I had to have you in a way and with an intensity that I’ve never experienced with another woman.”
Andre’s words nearly caused me to melt into him.
“And enslaving me is the way to do that?” I replied.
“The only way, I think,” said Andre.
Dominance and submission have never been part of my life. Yes, I’ve read some things that had left me curious, but I’ve always been independent and somewhat untrusting. I’ve never met a man who had the strength to dominate me, nor who could earn a deep enough trust for me to allow it.
Until Andre, that is.
“Yes, Master,” I said.
Andre hugged me tight, causing me to whimper from my body’s underlying pain.
“You were a big hit last night,” Andre said.
“And I’ve the excruciating pain this morning to prove it,” I sighed. “Not to mention that I’m not sure how I’ll ever face any of those men again.”
“I don’t recall it being your face that commanded their attention,” he said with a smirk.
Andre then stood from the recliner, lifting me with him. He walked through the kitchen and onto the deck, and I noticed that beneath the pergola, he’d set up what appeared to be a massage table and that on the dining table was a tray with sliced fruit, pitchers of orange juice and water, and a couple of glasses.
He carried me to the massage table, placed me face down and began to rub me.
“Relax, pet,” he said. “Master will make it better.”
My eyes shut as Andre worked the soreness from my body, again reminding me of the genuine care he had for me. I remained still, savoring the way his hands felt against me as he slowly, meticulously unknotted my muscles.
Andre spent perhaps half an hour caring for me as I lay on my tummy, then rolled me over and began working on my front.
“Your labia’s swollen,” he said as he massaged my right thigh
.
“A dozen dicks will do that,” I said, trying not to smile at his attempt at humor.
“Then I’ll be gentle when I fuck you later,” he said, and then he laughed when I noticeably cringed.
The realization hit me that I hadn’t taken a birth control pill since Friday. Though I was in the latter stage of my cycle, it was still a concern.
“Did you grab my pills from my apartment? They were on the list,” I said.
“I did not, pet,” Andre replied. “We’re going to let nature take its course, from this weekend and beyond.”
A chill cascaded through me as I imagined what my parents would think of their thirty-year-old daughter, accepting enslavement to a black man and perhaps mass-producing bi-racial children. It’s less that mom and dad are racist than conservative, old-fashioned. This is not something they would easily understand.
I bit my lip, wondering what to say.
“Yes, Master,” was all that passed through my lips, and it evoked a broad smile from Andre.
The massage lasted an hour, and it crossed my mind that it might actually be worth letting a group of men dick me till they broke me to have Andre’s hands lovingly repair me the next day.
Andre lifted me from the table and carried me to the pool, lowering me till my feet touched the deck.
“Enjoy the water,” he said. “Then we’ll eat some breakfast.”
I crouched to the deck and put my feet in the pool. Everything being relative, the water was damned cold.
As I slipped into the water, my flesh filled with goosebumps and my nips immediately hardened. I couldn’t help but shiver.
Andre laughed as he watched.
It seemed like an eternity before my body and the cold water reached equilibrium, but once they did I was able to relax and float, closing my eyes and enjoying the coolness. I didn’t even notice Andre’s retreat into the house.
As I floated, I reached to my crotch to examine my pussy with my finger. It was definitely swollen, as Andre had so astutely pointed out earlier.
And it was still sore.
I pulled myself from the pool after about thirty minutes, only to find an even deeper chill as the light breeze flowed over my naked body.
Andre emerged from the house, wrapped me in a beach towel and began to dry me as he led me to the deck’s dining table where he replaced the wet towel with a dry one, and we ate the sliced fruit he’d prepared while I was still asleep.
“So what’s in store for me today?” I asked, as we nibbled on the fruit.
“I thought we’d go to your apartment and get some more of your things, have lunch at the winery and then resume our depravity,” Andre responded.
I couldn’t imagine taking Andre’s massive cock in the condition I was in, and wasn’t certain I’d be able to do so in several hours.
“I don’t see any way I can return to work,” I said with decided reservation.
“You’re likely right,” Andre said. “But your place is here.”
We finished eating, and Andre suggested I bathe and get dressed. I helped him clear the table, and then went for a long, hot bath in his garden tub.
The weekend had been provocative, to say the least. With each moment, my craving for Andre’s attention and adoration grew. I even found myself strangely touched by the desires of the other eleven men who’d fucked me till they’d hurt me the night before.
As I washed myself, I began to wonder what it would be like not to work. How would I avoid boredom while Andre was at the office? What sort of rules would he have for me? When would be the right time to discuss these things?
Andre’s comment about letting nature take its course was also on my mind, and I remained somewhat surprised that I didn’t immediately object to the idea given its life-long implications. My hand caressed my tummy as I tried to imagine myself fat with Andre’s child, before it hit me that if events such as last night’s were repeated with any regularity, it might not be Andre’s baby that I carried.
I remained in the tub after opening its drain, letting much of the water flow out of the vessel before forcing myself to climb from its embrace and dry my body.
Andre had laid on the bed a simple selection of clothes for me that included a lacy pink camisole and thong, and khaki shorts. On the floor at the foot of the bed was a pair of pink flat sandals.
I dressed, pulled up my hair, and then found Andre in the living room, watching television. We then left for my apartment to get some more of my things.
It was nearly noon when we arrived at my place. When we entered the apartment it seemed foreign, like it was no longer mine. The things it contained where most definitely mine, but it felt as if I no longer belonged in the space.
Had the last day and a half really been that much an epiphany that I was now an uneasy visitor in my own home?
Andre helped me collect clothes, shoes, personal items. We were there for about an hour, and had his Wrangler nearly overflowing with my things before we drove back to his place and unloaded them to what had previously been an empty walk-in closet that adjoined his bedroom.
It was after 1:30 when we left his house for lunch at the winery.
The winery’s crowd was surprisingly small for such a sunny and unseasonably warm Sunday afternoon in late March. It was sort of comforting, really, given that more people might not have afforded Andre and me the privacy I’d hoped we’d have while enjoying lunch together.
We sat at a wrought iron table with a large umbrella on the brick patio outside the winery’s restaurant. Andre ordered a simple lunch consisting of a meat, cheese and bread tray, with a glass of burgundy for me and water with lemon for him.
There was a comfort in the silence that ensued, because it afforded me the opportunity to take in my surroundings, which included several hundred acres of vineyard, and a koi-filled pond.
And then, my phone alerted me to a text I’d received.
“I hope you’re having a wonderful weekend, honey. Love, Mom.”
“And don’t let no black man fuck you stupid, slap a collar around your neck and have you gangbanged, baby girl,” Andre smirked when I showed him my mother’s message.
Though I couldn’t help but giggle at Andre’s remark, it did seem to open the door to a more serious discussion.
“What will my life be like?” I asked
.
“I’ve been giving that some thought, pet,” Andre said. “In fairness to both of us, I’ve been sketching out an agreement. I should have it ready for you to review tomorrow.”
“And?” I replied.
“It’s going to have some depth to it,” he said. “I think we’re in agreement that your returning to work really isn’t an option. It would be wise to lay out a structure that both of us can thrive in, long-term.”
I nodded. By giving up my independence and my career to succumb to Andre’s dominance, I was taking the boldest step of my life. It couldn’t be for a short-term fling, a whim.
“To some degree, you will be like a stay-at-home wife,” Andre continued. “You will be responsible for our home, for taking care of yourself and for other things, relating to the nature of our relationship.”
“It’s the latter that I find myself wildly curious about,” I said with a smile.
“And don’t anticipate spending much time in those clothes you just brought over,” he said dryly.
Andre and I finished lunch then took a leisurely hand-in-hand walk through the vineyard, speaking little but nuzzling one another for the entire stroll. It made me feel cared for, protected, and even though we spent more than an hour among the grapevines, it ended all too soon.
We returned to Andre’s home and as soon as we entered, I slithered out of my clothes and my Master retrieved my collar and cuffs, putting them in their proper places once I was nude. He leashed me, and then led me to a door I’d never been through, one that led to the home’s basement.
As we walked through the door, Andre flipped on the lights downstairs, and together we moved downward.
Once we were downstairs, the first thing I noticed was a stainless steel frame with a canvas harness hanging from it. Its purpose was obvious.
We walked toward the swing and Andre helped me into the harness, and there I was, hanging with my legs spread for my Master, still not fully recovered from the prior night’s hours-long gangbang.
Andre dropped by leash and undressed slowly, as if taunting me. His cock was already erect by the time it was unveiled.
He grabbed the leash’s leather handle from the floor and walked between my legs, and braced myself for more pain.
Andre’s wrapped his left hand around his cock’s base and stepped toward me, rubbing his crown against my aching slit. Despite my pussy’s discomfort, I was aroused by the thought of having my Master inside me again, of being stretched and strained by his massive black shaft, and of letting nature take its course.
Nectar began to flow through my folds as the prick’s head teased me, and soon enough Andre was sliding inside me. The whimper that passed through my lips bordered on a shriek, and my feet flailed wildly in the harness as Master sank deeper and deeper into me.
Andre had me swinging lightly over his dick. Though more gentle than our previous fucks – as he’d promised it would be – it hurt badly, but it was a pain I found myself grateful to feel.
Master played with my feet as he effortlessly flowed in and out of me. He sucked and nibbled my toes, his teeth grazed and he licked the soles of my feet, the tickling causing me to forget the pain in my crotch.
My orgasm was the most intense I’ve ever had. I tensed and shuddered head to toe, my pussy’s juices exploding over Andre’s pelvis and thighs and dripping onto the floor. It was as if my mind was detached from the rest of me, akin to an out-of-body experience.
“Good girl,” Andre said in little more than a whisper, as he continued to fuck me, the swing rocking slow and steady despite my convulsions.
“I don’t know how much more of this I can take,” I said, my voice strained and cracking.
“We’re going to find out,” Andre replied, his pace increasing from slow to moderate, then leveling off.
A throaty growl swelled from within me and I writhed as my Master’s thrusts racked my slit with pain.
“Am I hurting my slut’s pussy?” Andre asked.
I nodded frantically, unable to catch enough breath to verbalize a response.
“You want this big black dick in your ass, then?” he said.
“God no!” I shrieked, imagining just how much worse my agony would be.
“I thought not,” Andre said. “And seeding that ass won’t do a thing to help me breed you.”
The words rocked me to my core, and a wave of warmth crashed through me. I began to sob with joy that this man I’d so admired as a co-worker and boss wanted to possess me, to dominate me, to push my mind and body to their limits, and that he seemed to crave seeing me with his children in my womb.
I’d never given much thought to maternity, but as Andre stabbed my aching crotch time and time again, and the happy tears freely flowed down my cheeks, I couldn’t imagine anything more natural, more right, than giving my master a gaggle of children.
When I came again, it was more like a seizure than an orgasm. It felt as if every muscle in my body had gone into spasm, as if I’d been struck by lightning. Andre groaned as my womb quaked with his prick inside it, and more of my warm fluids squirted onto him and the floor.
With his right hand holding the leash’s handle, Andre grabbed the harness strap that crossed my body a few inches above my mound and began rocking the swing hard and fast, sending his cock in and out of me violently.
A series of desperate, frantic squeals passed through my lips and my legs flailed in the straps that held them high in the air.
The look on Master’s face was prideful. He seemed to delight in having taken a woman who’d been untouched for more than six months and in less than a weekend turned her into an owned, black cock slut who was more and more savoring the idea of letting nature take its course. I began to wonder if at least part of the point behind last night’s gangbang was to show me that no one else would ever fill my body and soul the way Andre did.
“Beg for it,” Master growled, his dick twitching inside me.
“Please seed me,” I gasped. “Give me the first of our children, Master.”
My womb swelled with Andre’s warm goo, and I began to giggle, giddy with his ownership, his use.
“Who owns the pussy?” Andre said as the contents of his balls continued to spill into me.
“You do, Master,” I muttered breathlessly. “You own the pussy, and every bit of me.”
“Forever,” Andre replied.
“Forever,” I echoed.
He slipped from my sloppy cunt and released me from the harness. Immediately, I sank to my knees and glanced up at him.
“May your slave clean you, Master?” I asked.
“Please do,” he responded.
My fingers wrapped around his still turgid prick, guiding it to my mouth, and I began to suck him feverishly. I wanted Andre to understand how eager I was to accept his dominance, and how desperately I wanted to please him.
“Damn, woman, you are hungry for some nigga dick, aren’t you?” he said, prompting me to nod as I worshipped him.
I loved the taste of Andre’s cock after he fucked me. The combination of my sweet nectar and his salty jizz on his flesh reinforced the idea that we are now one, a Master and slave; a bold black man and his eager white whore.
After several minutes, Andre slipped his hands between my armpits and guided me upward till I was standing before embracing me and kissing me deeply, possessively, and we stood there, our bodies pressed together and our mouths intertwined, and I knew I belonged to him completely.

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