Part Three

BLACK MASTER SOLA

I was heading to a new world now, heading to a new place towards a different time. I was seated in the back of a truck with three other white boi-slaves and two bitch-slaves having being bought at an auction and was being transported to the home of my new Black Master. What will he be like? How well will he treat me along with his former slaves, I don’t know. Too many questions and the fear of what was bound to come preyed on my mind.

The days have passed since my attempted escape. The Black Masters hadn’t caught the other who’d ran off; Hugh had remained incarcerated. Master Abraham had talked about him during one of our devotion meetings and he’d declared that white boi Hugh would be subjected to intense reprogramming, as he still had loose bugs in his head that are frustrating his embrace of the Black Power. But in due time, he will succumb, Master Abraham told us. It’s either that or he will die trying. Myself and the other white boi-slave had remained in solitary confinement for another day after which we were allowed to join the slave population having learnt our lesson and declared that never would we be seduced towards going against our Black Master’s wish. They had fixed the other slave’s ankle and though he was still limping prior to when I got picked out of the camp for auction sale, I reckon he would be walking straight in no time. Thirteen of us had been chosen: six white-boi slaves and seven bitch-slaves. Eamon hadn’t been amongst them. He had held me in his arms and cried on my shoulder about how much he was going to miss me. I too was going to miss him. I was happy though that I recognised two people going to the auction with me - white boi Jason and his former woman, bitch-slave Kristine. I’d shared a seat with Jason during the ride while the bitch-slaves had been put on another vehicle. I’d hoped however bought me would do the same of buying Jason too. Unfortunately it wasn’t so. The individual who bought me was from a different client representing Black Master Sola (pronounced ‘Sho-la’), whom we were all soon to meet with. After the sales had been finalized, our Masters who’d brought us to the auction ground had handed over our white boi chastity keys to the representative who will in turn give them to our new Black Master. Already I was missing the camp and wished someone else had been traded in my place instead. I missed serving Master Shehu and prayed my new Master would have some character just like him.

Neither of us made conversation as we sat beside each other in the truck while two armed Overseers watched over us. It felt like we’d resigned ourselves already to whatever was coming and in a way we had.

We arrived at the compound of our new Master and the Overseers led us up the stairs into the opulent mansion. We were shown into a large living room and Master Sola came down a flight of stairs leading two people on a dog leash. A mature white boi-slave and a bitch-slave and it wasn’t until he came closer that I looked with shock of horror at the two slaves he’d brought into the room. The couple looked to have somewhat aged but I still recognise Tim and Pamela Morgan, Catherine’s parents. My future in-Laws. I tried to capture their eye but they were looking right at the ground and not up to have noticed me. Master Sola was dressed in a business suit and wore wire-rim glasses. He was a dapper and distinguished-looking man and sizing us up with eyes that seemed to see more than they appeared. He welcomed up to his abode and said instructed us to serve him to our utmost care and that he in turn will take care of us as well. One of the Overseers handed him our chastity keys and then he called over his head white boi-slave to show us to our quarters.

I got to meet with them later that evening when Master Sola was out. Tim and his wife Pamela came to my cubicle room and we hugged and cried like we hadn’t seen each other in ages; to tell the truth, it was ages and another life time ago. They explained to me the situation of things: how they had gotten kidnapped at the same resort that I told them I had stayed while trying to search for them, how they too had been brought to a slave-run camp and later sold at an auction to Master Sola, and how Pamela was now the Master’s incumbent wife. I couldn’t believe my ears.

“He lost his wife some months back,” Tim explained to me, “and even now he’s still mourning her. He got to like Pamela as she’s always being dutiful to him and so he’s been sharing both of us most times. He fucked Pamela and gets me to eat her pussy whenever he’s done.”

I asked if they knew any whereabouts of Catherine and neither said they’d heard or even seen or know where she might be since they got split up at the auction trade. I mentioned to them about my desire to still find her. Neither said anything about this, though there was a look they exchanged with each other that made me assume that they doubt my words, or that they didn’t think I was being any serious. Actually I couldn’t blame them for that when I lay in my room and thought about my conversation with them. I’d never expected my coming to Nigeria would turn out the way it had. Everything looked so uncertain for me. I was finding it hard just remembering what my former life before now had been like. I could barely even picture my parents’ faces anymore and reckon by now they should be long aware that something bad has happened to me. I cursed myself for never leaving them any clues as to how to find me. I should have left them a hidden message, anything to at least point them in a direction should such a thing as this occurred. I sat down in my room, on my mattress, staring out my window which faced the east section of the compound, staring up at the quarter moon that hung in the evening sky and thought of how far I’ve come to my present predicament and wondered what more lay ahead for me.

I fell into my household duties in Master Sola’s household just as easy as I’d done back at the camp. We, the white boi-slaves, were given clean-up and maintenance works. The bitch-slaves did share some of the work routine with us, at the same time they provided entertainment for whichever guests that came to the house or for Master Sola himself.

One afternoon myself and another white-boi slave were almost done cleaning his swimming pool, scooping out dead leaves that had fallen on the surface when Master Solo strolled into the sun with Catherine’s parents trailing behind on their dog leash. Master Solo wore swimming trunk; another bitch-slave came out to join his carrying towels in her hands. The white boi-slave and I retreated away from his sight and stood at a corner and watched as our Master dove into the pool and did five laps back and forth before climbing out of the pool. Catherine’s mother, Pamela, took the towel from the other bitch-slave and went to dry her Master’s body. She slid to her knees and wrapped the towel around his legs and pulled down his trunk to suck his cock. The white boi-slave and I watched everything from the hidden shade where we stood with our cleaning net in our hands. We both held our imprisoned penises in our hands wishing we were free to at least stroke ourselves to cum.

I never would have dreamt to see the day of Pamela being fucked by anyone besides her husband. This was shocking to me at the same time revealing. The way she held and stroked Master Sola’s cock in her hand while her mouth slobbered over his prick and the look of love that was apparent in her eyes and I knew this was beyond any wild fantasy I can ever imagine.

“Did my Master have a lovely swim?” she asked him, stroking her cock with one hand while her other parted her slave tank dress to squeeze her tits. Her husband remained on his knees watching.

“Very much. But now I want some bitch pussy!”

He snapped his finger at the other bitch-slave who’d brought his towel walked over and she too joined Pamela to worship his cock. The man stood there naked looking like a demi-god while the two bitch-slaves took turns kissing and licking and sucking his prick like it was the best thing ever. He held his meat in his hand and slapped it over their faces, wetting them with his pre-cum. They practically fought to own his prick while the other sucked on his balls.

Master Sola came and sat on one of the lounge chairs and Pamela was the first to mount him. I watched with my mouth hanging down as she stripped herself of her slave clothes and then pressed down her lovely bottom on his prick. The tip of his cock disappeared into her pussy and she moaned as then she began grinding her butt on his shaft, taking more of him. The other bitch-slave too hurried out of her clothes, rubbing her pussy as she stood there watching. Myself and the white-boi slaves had our hands cradling our chastity-imprisoned cocks. We held it up like it was the world’s most un-used piece of equipment, and in the state we were in, it might as well was.

Pamela was screaming the Master’s name. He made her come down from him and had the other bitch-slave come and take her place. The bitch-slave had close-cropped brown hair and looked a lot like a younger version of that 80s actress who was a favourite of my Dad, Demi Moore. She too sat astride Master Sola’s lap though with her back facing him. She reached her hand underneath and inserted his cock between her neatly shaved pussy and tested its entrance before pressing herself down on him. Master Sola was groaning and slapping her butt while she stared at our direction with exotic eyes that captured her lust but really didn’t see us. To the bitch-slaves, us white boi-slaves were invincible and not meant to be tampered with.

Master Sola brought the bitch-slave down from him and he stood up and both her and Pamela dropped to their knees and sucked his cock. He wasn’t done with them yet. He jumped into the pool and told them to join him and they did. I watched as he fucked both of them in the shallow end of the pool. His thighs slapped water about as he bent my girlfriend’s mother forward and fucked her from behind. The other bitch-slave waited her turn and when he pulled out from Pamela, she rested her back against the pool’s wall and held him towards her while he pounded her that way.

An Overseer spotted me and the white boi-slave and he snapped at us to get away from there and go do some more cleaning. The white-boi slave and I hurried away from the scene. It was too bad I couldn’t free my cock to stroke myself to cum. However we have found a means of pleasuring ourselves without our Masters knowing. After I’d disposed of my cleaning tools, I went into our bathroom and stroked myself with two fingers till I eventually peed into the bowl. It wasn’t much of anything but it sufficed till whenever our Master wished to free us.

I was acting house servant that day. Master Sola had some invited guests and I prepared the dinner table and checked on the food and everything else. Catherine’s Mom, Pamela, was one of the cooks; her husband, Tim, took came of Master Sola’s clothes that he would wear. The guests arrived in separate vehicles - two Black Masters, one of them wore military uniform and had arrived with a bitch-slave at the end of a leash.

The dinner went well and I waited on them as they went into the drawing room and helped serve dessert. They talked about politics and business and laughed while they did; I stood at a corner of the doorway awaiting whatever command came my way dressed in a ceremonial white shirt and pants though wearing my loin cloth underneath as well as my chastity lock. The Black Master in uniform was explaining to Master Sola how he’d trained his bitch-slave to be excellent in giving blowjobs. instructed his bitch-slave to crawl over to where Master Sola sat and to make him comfortable. Master Sola had a glass of wine on one hand and a cigar in the other and spread his legs as the bitch-slave crawled from where her uniformed Master sat and came and unzipped Master Sola’s pants and reached inside for his cock and swallowed him. Master Sola had a rather thick cock and most times I’ve watched Pamela suck his cock she always used both hands, and that was the same mode this bitch-slave was using too. Her mouth pulled back and forth of his cock, making a ‘plop!’ sound. She was still sucking his cock when her Master left where he sat, having unzipped his pants and stroking his cock came behind her and introducing it into her cunt. The bitch-slave held Master Sola’s prick in her mouth as her features betrayed the look that there was a black cock jammed into her cunt. She gave a muffled grunt and still kept on sucking Master Sola’s dick. She couldn’t take much of it and pulled her mouth off his dick and exhaled her moans. Master Sola couldn’t help but laugh.

Master Sola picked up a remote button that lay on a coffee table beside him and pressed a button on it. Some seconds later a door at the other side of the room opened and in walked two gorgeous-looking bitch-slaves; Master Sola had exquisite tastes when it came to acquiring nubile-looking bitch-slaves. The two of them walked into the room and Master Sola directed them to come and take care of his two friends. The bitch-slaves separated and the Master in uniform was hurrying out of his khaki shirt as one of them came and knelt before him to take care of his erection; the other went and knelt before the other Black Master who too had unzipped his pants and pushed her head down on his crotch. The three bitch-slaves were now busy sucking the Master’s pricks and loving it. Pamela came into the room minutes later and she hurried over to where her Master sat and bowed before him.

“Master, is it alright if I join in?” she cooed.

Master Sola nodded his head and Pamela knelt beside the other bitch-slave and both of them shared the Master’s cock. I sensed someone standing beside me and saw it was Pamela’s husband, Tim. He was smiling as he watched his wife and the other slave going to work on their Master and several times nudged me to look at their direction.

The Black Masters took off their clothes and each got busy for the next hour fucking every bitch-slave in the room. Master Sola had Pamela ride his cock and she was just as enthusiastic to do it while the other bitch-slave sucked on his balls. The other two were just as well fucking their bitch-slaves and afterwards exchanging them. The Master in uniform was the first to cum. He pounded his bitch-slave from behind and groaned as he poured every inch of cum inside her and then looked in my direction and barked at Tim to come over and get the bitch’s pussy cleaned up for him to use again. Tim answered ‘yes sir!’ as he hurried over to perform his task. I waited for my own turn to be called. It happened some minutes later when the other Master was on top of his slave fucking her with every ounce of strength he had. I could hear the bitch-slave screaming like she was climaxing every second his slammed his cock inside her. He filled her pussy with his load and as well looked in my direction and I didn’t have to wait for him to signal me over for me not to rush and meet his need. First I came to my knees and sucked his cock clean, licking every droplet of pussy juice that stained his shaft before coming to the couch and bending forward to eat the slave’s pussy. I looked across the living room where Tim was and to my surprise the uniform Master had him bent forward and was now fucking him. Tim grabbed hold of the edge of the couch with his loin-cloth pushed up over his backside while the Black Master thrust his cock repeatedly into him; the bitch-slave knelt beside his legs caressing his thigh. Tim was grunting deep and heavy. I tried to look at his face and saw that he caught my eyes and was fighting to smile at me.

The uniformed Master pulled out of him at the last moment and sprayed his cum over the bitch-slave’s face. Tim knelt beside her and licked his cum off her face and shared some of it with her; never is a Black Master’s cum meant to be wasted.

***

I stayed under his abode for another month before an accident occurred under my watch that made him send me away. It was a stupid thing I did but not necessarily my fault. I’d eaten something the day before and it made me feeling queasy that night and well into the next day. I was having stomach cramps. I was given drugs and they seemed to affect me even more than the ailment I was having. Master Sola was throwing another party that evening and I was supposed to be there. The party turned into an orgy with plenty of bitch-slaves there to entertain the Black Masters; there were some white boi-slaves there was well and they too got a share of some of the Master’s pricks when they weren’t fucking the bitch-slaves and filling their pussies with cum. I too was there to do my job: make like a fluffer for any demanding Master’s prick as well swallow their load when they directed it at me. It was while I was performing such that I got a jolt of pain in my stomach and couldn’t hold back my indigestion. I bent my head and heaved and threw up on the Master’s foot.

It was a damnable crime and I got whipped for it the following day.

***

Two days later I got summoned before Master Sola. I had gotten rid of my ailment by this time and was still feeling miserable for having near ruined Master Sola’s orgy fest. I had been appropriately whipped for the committing such transgression but that didn’t make me feel bad for having offended him.

I entered his living room and bowed my head at an older black woman who sat there eating peanuts out of a bowl. She looked somewhat distinguishing - I can’t recall ever having met her here at Master Sola’s home. Master Sola was in his library which adjoined his living room. He was seated behind his desk going through some papers. I stood by the doorway awaiting his instruction to enter. Finally he looked up and I approached his desk. He came from behind his desk and looked at me. His eyes were expressionless.

“Have you learned your lesson, white boi?” he snapped at me. “You near brought my party to an end, you’re well aware of that, aren’t you? I hope the whipping I gave you has set your mind right, slave.”

I lowered my head. “Yes, Black Master. I’m well humbled and I regret ever doing what I did.”

“You should. But I have news for you, slave. I’m not going to stand your actions in my abode anymore. I’m loaning you to a Black Mistress who’s going to treat you the proper way that you ought to be. It’s obvious you’ve gotten to weak and careless under my eyes. You’re going to learn from someone else.”

He stepped out of the room and I followed him into the living room and introduced me to the old black woman who’d sat in the living room. I lowered my head to greet her once again. She struck me with a walking stick I hadn’t notice she had with her. She snapped at me to get down on my knees and greet her properly. I did as instructed. Master Sola gave her my chastity lock’s key.

Such was how I met Black Mistress Vuzela.

BLACK MISTRESS TIFFANY (PART 2)

Black Mistress Vuzela had a perpetual scowl on her face, was wealthy, unmarried and was a hard woman to please. I got that information first hand as we left Master Sola’s mansion. She came in an open-back truck and had me ride in the back with a dog chain around my neck and held on to the other end from her side window while the driver put the car in gear and we drove off. I sat in the bucket-seat in the back of the truck feeling miserable and watched as Master Sola’s house grew farther and farther from my sight until it was nothing but a memory in my mind.

We were on the road for nearly an hour. We drove through a city. Plenty of people saw me seated at the back of the truck naked except for my loin-cloth which barely covered my privates, most of them ogling me. One even picked up a tomato and threw it at me; it was a good thing we were driving so fast and he missed.

Mistress Vuzela occupied the top floor of a penthouse in the heart of the city. I don’t know if this was the same city in which I’d arrived at a lifetime ago or another. It could have been. I didn’t know if white boi-slaves were dared brought into the city but from the look of things, Mistress Vuzela was no ordinary woman. I was expecting she would drive into the building underground parking garage, but instead the truck came to a stop a few feet from the revolving doors of the building; already I was cringing with embarrassment and shame at the sight of so many black people admiring me for what I appeared to be.

Mistress Vuzela alighted down from the truck and pulled roughly at my chain, hitting me with her walking stick. Her voice was raspy. “Get your ass down from there, slave! You think we at a picnic?”

I jumped down from the truck. She ordered me to be on my hands and knees, which I did obey and with her leading, she pulled me along like a dog past the revolving doors of the penthouse. The doorman sniggered as I entered the building with her. I didn’t need a prophet to tell me it was me he was laughing at. My predicament. All eyes perambulating at the lobby looked at us as well went past them. My Mistress held her head high and appeared unconcerned with whoever was looking in our direction. The people at the counter stood up and said good morning to her, including the security guard but she made like she hadn’t heard them and marched forward to one of the bank of elevators and we stepped inside with me on my knees beside her looking like her pet dog, which invariably I was, until it deposited us at her floor.

Inside her penthouse she assigned me to a small room next to where the kitchen was. The room was practically an alcove and former storeroom as they were mops and brushes and detergent containers there aside from the mattress that filled much of the room; a plastic plate lay beside the mattress. Mistress Vuzela showed me a small bathroom where I can be cleaning up; she didn’t like having her slaves’ body odours stinking up her penthouse suite, she told me. There was soap, shampoo, and all sorts of body wash bottles and ointments inside the medicine cabinet. In a drawer I found hair brushes, nail clippers, tweezers, and just about every type of toiletries in there. Things I never thought I would get to see in such a long time - I would have dropped down on my knees and kissed her ass if she’d ordered me to.

I entered the bathroom and didn’t leave it for maybe two hours. I cut my over-grown hair with a pair of scissors, trimmed my beard and shaved off my armpits with a razor. I did the same to my crotch as well, though careful to trim around my genitals with the chastity still on me. The floor was littered with my hair by the time I was done. I had some lesions on my skin but thank God no lice. I admired my new look in the room. Prior to when I’d shaved off much of my hair I was looking like a caveman; now I had some measure of sanity about my features. It had been a while since last time my skin felt the warmth of hot water. I could feel my skin pores come alive as I turned the faucet and hot water poured out of the faucet; Mistress Vuzela wasn’t that much a bad Mistress after all, although I was yet to know more about her.

Finished having my bath, I washed my loin cloth and left it to dry while I cleaned out the bathroom. A bell rang and I heard Mistress Vuzela yell out my name. I ran to where she was and found her in what was her laundry room and stood before her as she poked me with her walking stick, looking me over as only then seeing me up-close. She sniffed at me and caught the scent of perfume; that seemed to calm her mind.

“Good. You smelling good for a slave. But still stink for a white boi-slave.”

She told me whenever she required me she would ring the bell and I’d better answer or else she’d hang me out her penthouse and won’t care if I fall. I replied that I was hers to command. She pointed at the pile of dirty clothes in the laundry room and told him what to do with them in the washing machine. Done with that, I went and cleaned up her bedroom and afterwards made myself into a table while she sat on a reclining chair and rested her feet over my backside while she watched a re-run episode of Oprah.

***

Mistress Vuzela was an indoor woman. She did go out but not often. If she required anything from a shop she sent me to. I would wear torn jeans and a ragged shirt and she would time me on her watch as to how long she expected me to be back. No matter how fast I returned it was never satisfying to her and she enjoyed hitting me with her walking stick if I dared show the slightest complain. She did have some visitors and I served as her foot mat whenever they came around. Sometimes I’d perform tricks as a pet dog would and she’d throw dog biscuits at me to catch with my mouth. Failure and I’d get a whack from her stick. I was homesick for Master Sola. I missed being around Tim and Pamela and could only imagine the fun and service they were having while I was here alone. But as the weeks went further into months I was gradually losing thoughts of them.

Sometime in the following month we went out. The following day we went out. This time we didn’t go in her truck, thus I got to ride in the car with her, though with the chain and dog collar still around my neck. The ride was a long one and it was far from the city out in the country side, or whatever I might call it. I rested on the foot of the backseat next to my Mistress’s feet while she had the end of my chain in my hand admiring the scene of the countryside as the driver drove us to wherever.

We came to a stop at a gate and it came open for us and we drove inside. I couldn’t make out the sight of the house until we came to a stop in front of it. The driver came around and opened the door for Mistress Vuzela who then stepped out of the car, pulling me along. It was an opulent mansion with a flight of stairs leading up towards it. I looked up and there was this bitch-slave coming down the stairs, her too holding two leashes attached to the dog collars of a white boi-slave and a bitch-slave both coming behind her. The bitch-slave got closer to us and I couldn’t help looking at her, noticing something familiar about her ... and then it hit me.

Catherine! My God ... Catherine!

She too was looking at me and she too must probably be wondering if I was the same boyfriend she remembered back home. I had time to look at the two slaves she was dragging along and they too looked familiar to me. It took little effort for me to recognise them - Jason and his woman, Kristine.

I wanted to see if they recognised me too but Mistress Vuzela was pulling me along hard as we climbed up the stairs hurrying to get out of the sun.

***

I remember the story Jason had told me about he and Kristine’s encounter with the Mistress known as Tiffany. Another older white boi-slave back at the camp too had mentioned her to me but not as intimate as Jason had. The talk about her was sort of legendary and it was that afternoon we arrived at her home that I got to see her for the first time.

My Mistress Vuzela entered her spacious living room and left me at the doorway and a tall beautiful black woman wearing slim-fitting jeans, black high heels and black sweater came down a flight of stairs smiling and embraced my Mistress, calling her ‘Aunt Vuzela’. Mistress Tiffany was a gorgeous woman no doubt; I felt a stirring down in my genitals just from looking at her. Mistress Tiffany directed one of her bitch-slaves to take me out and water me. The bitch-slave took the leash from Mistress Vuzela and led me back outside and tied my leash to a tree branch next to a watering well and left me there under the shade. I looked around the compound. There were bitch-slaves and white boi-slaves walking about doing one menial work or another, it was almost like being back at the camp. I didn’t notice someone standing at the other side of the well until my name got mentioned.

“Michael?”

I turned to look and there was Catherine standing there looking at me with surprise in her eyes. She came round the well to really see if it was me.

“Hi, Catherine,” I said. “Long time.”

“Yes, long time. It’s Caya.”

“Pardon?”

“You’re a slave, you should know by now that bitch-slaves don’t get to use their former names anymore. I’m a slave to Mistress Tiffany - we all are here - and now I’m Caya.”

“Oh, sorry, I didn’t know that.”

We looked at each other, neither of us saying anything. She was still the Catherine I fell in love with back in Buffalo, but I sensed that Catherine wasn’t the one I was seeing right now. A lot seemed to have changed in her, physically too. She’d lost some weight.

“You look ... different,” was all I could manage.

“So do you. What are you doing here?”

“It’s a long story. I got the news that you and your parents got kidnapped. I came to see if I can find you. I already met your parents.”

“I met them too. At an auction market. My Dad mentioned they’d met someone back at their former place. Now that I think about it, I’m guessing it was you.”

This was news to me. “Really? You actually saw them?”

She nodded. “They were doing alright. They seemed happy.”

“Yes, they were back at Master Sola’s estate. I wonder what might have happened.”

I told her about Master Sola and a bit about my time under his abode and of meeting her parents there. Catherine nodded as if she already knew this.

“Why did you come here, Michael?” she asked me.

“I already told you, I came to get you.”

“What do you mean ‘you came to get me’?”

“I came to take you back home.”

She looked at me as if I’d lost my senses, then she laughed. “If anyone’s going to take me home, it’s not going to be you, Michael. Look at where you are right now. How’re you going to get me out of her? What even makes you think I want to leave anyway?”

“Come on, Catherine - ”

“I told you my name is Caya,” she snapped at me. She came and grabbed me by the neck, sneering at me. “Go ahead and say it. Say it, white boi-slave. Say Caya.”

“Caya. Your name is Caya.”

She let go of me and turned around to walk away, then stopped to look back at me. “I don’t know what brought you here, Michael. Or whatever you were thinking that made you come down here. It’s good you came to see what white bois ought to be. But you never should have come. You never should.”

She walked back the way she’d come from. I called her name but she didn’t turn to look at me at all. I was back to being alone; I was back to being helpless. I hadn’t realized it until that moment how silly, ignorant and stupid and pig-headed I’d been to ever begin this escapade. The words of the detective Thaddeus Black ran through my mind about how serious I was to undertake such a mission. I couldn’t remember much of what he’d told me, but I recall snatches of our conversation, and now as I thought about it, I believe coming here had been a terrible mistake. I should have remained in Buffalo with my sanity still intact. Now I couldn’t tell what I was anymore.

***

Dusk came and I was still at the well waiting for my Mistress. A white boi-slave had brought some food for me; Catherine - Caya - never returned; I was hoping she would.

From where I was I could see the road reading down to the front of the mansion and as the sky grew darker some cars began driving up towards the wide stairs and people were trooping out of them. The men was dressed in suits and the women in lovely dresses; a party seemed to be happening. Two overseers led several bitch-slaves towards the building. From where I was I couldn’t make out if Catherine was one of them. The night came and more vehicles were still driving up to the house. An Asian bitch-slave came for me, freed my leash from where I’d been kept and without saying a word led me towards the house.

Even as we approached the doorway I could hear loud music, laughter and merriment echoing from within. My nerves were standing at attention as the bitch-slave opened the door and stepped inside and I followed her behind; I loved parties and loved nothing more than the sight of Black Masters fucking bitch-slaves and white boi-slaves too; I might get involved, who knows.

The bitch-slave led me into the living room where everybody was at. The furniture had been pushed backward. The walls were lined with bitch-slaves at one side and some white boi-slaves at the opposite side, looking like Greek statutes, and in the centre the merriment went about. Black Masters wore tuxedos and suits and native attire sat or walked about smoking cigars and drinking from large glasses, some of them playing with some of the bitch-slaves. There were some Black Mistress too, elegantly dressed to match the men. I looked around and found Mistress Vuzela seated next to Mistress Tiffany who now had changed into a jacquard evening dress that made her look double ravishing. She was laughing at something a Black Master just said to her and when she looked at my direction she clapped her hands loudly and the noise in the room gradually died down; so too the music playing.

The Asian bitch-slave who’d brought me into the room led me down a short flight of stairs to where Mistress Tiffany and my Mistress sat; the Black Masters seemed to clear space for me. I felt naked as all eyes were upon me.

“What is your name, slave?” Mistress Tiffany asked me. She was smiling, but it didn’t get to her eyes.

“Michael, Black Mistress ma’am.”

“Slave Michael, tell me honestly, do you know this bitch-slave?” she pointed her hand at Catherine who stood amongst the line of bitch-slaves that lined one side of the room. Catherine stepped forward, her eyes looked at me without expression. I didn’t know what answer to give and knew there would be consequences if I lied.

I nodded my head. “Yes, Black Mistress. I do know her.”

“Since you know her, tell me what’s her name.”

I looked at Catherine - Caya. She looked back at me with still no expression in her eyes. Everyone in the room seemed to hold their breath.

“Her name, Black Mistress,” I said, “is Catherine.”

Mistress Tiffany turned to Caya. “Is that your name, bitch-slave?”

Caya still had her eyes at me and answered firmly: “No, Mistress Tiffany. My name is Caya.”

Mistress Tiffany got up and walked to where Caya stood. She caressed her cheek with the back side of her palm.

“Yes, that is your name. Once you were Catherine, but here you’re something else.” She turned to look at me. “I watched the two of you talking from my window and that told me you and this slave here have a history together. Now is the time for your history to come to a crossroad. You are in for a treat, white boi. My bitch here is in heat, and you’re going to impregnate her for me.”

Catherine looked surprised and shocked. She turned to her Mistress. “Mistress, please, I don’t want to - ”

“Silence, slave,” Mistress Tiffany wagged a finger before her eyes, her words cut like ice. “Not a word from you. I know already about you and Black Master Amos, but he’s not here to attend to your worries. You’re here to do whatever I want you to do, and right now I want to know if this white boi-slave here has got the bones to fuck you. He probably hasn’t had any white pussy at all.” She walked towards me and grabbed at my genitals in its enclosed chastity cage. I grunted from it. “Or am I lying, slave?” she cocked an eyebrow at me.

I was fast with an answer: “No, Black Mistress, you’re not lying.”

“I thought so. Tonight is going to be your lucky night, slave. But you’re going to fight for it. Ladies and gentlemen, please follow me to my battle room.”

She took the end of my leash and pulled at me to follow her. Catherine followed as well, so too did everybody else.

***

Down a long corridor that probably span half the length of the house, opening a door and then trooping down a flight of stairs, Mistress Tiffany opened another door and we entered into the battle room.

It was a spacious room with white walls and no windows; air vents from the high ceiling pumped air into the room. There was a square-shaped centre stage in the centre of the room, six feet wide and painted white as well and foamy. On one side of the room the walls were shaped in the form of staircases - this was where Mistress Tiffany’s guest went and sat down to watch what was about to happen. Catherine and I walked into the centre stage. Mistress Vuzela came and undid the lock of my chastity cage, freeing my prick for me, and undid my dog collar as well. There was a Black Master in a suit who was part of the crowd. He was murmuring something to another tall black man next to him. His face looked somewhat familiar but at that moment I doubt if I could recognise my parents had they being in the room as well.

Mistress Tiffany came and stood before us after Mistress Vuzela had gone to find herself a seat. “My guests expect some entertainment from both of you. Once I give the word, you two dig in and make this happen.”

She turned and left the stage. Catherine and I eyed each other. I didn’t like the look in her eyes; I sensed she wasn’t going to make this any easy for me. She stood poised like someone about to go into attack mode, like an Amazon warrior.

“I still love you, Catherine,” I said to her.

“My name is Caya,” she snarled.

Mistress Tiffany, standing beside her seated guests gave the countdown: “Three ... two ... one ... NOW!”

It was being back at the camp watching that older white boi-slave mate with that bitch-slave, except now I was in his place wanting to mate with Catherine. The look on her face told me she wasn’t going to make it any easy for me at all.

I came at her and she skilfully avoided me. I dove her for legs and pinned her to the floor. The Masters and Mistresses in the room cheered as they watched us grapple and struggle with each other. Catherine gritted her teeth at me and kept hitting at me to let go. We rolled over the floor, her back pressed against my face fighting to pull up from me. My erect prick pressed hard against her bottom. I was loving the feel of it, never once thought I could spot an erection anymore after all this time of wearing a chastity lock. She tried to hit me with her elbow but missed my face. She wouldn’t stop screaming. At one time she brought my hand to her face and bit on my skin. I let go of her then. She got up and turned at me and swung her leg at me, but I caught it just in time and again pulled her down to fall on top of me. This time I rolled her around and came on top her back and pinned her on the floor with my knee pressed on her backside. She was slapping her hand on the floor, grunting and struggling.

Then she cried out ‘surrender!’. The match was over - I had won.

I looked up at the crowd of Black Masters and Mistresses there clapping their hands and cheering. I felt so elated like I’d just scaled Mt. Everest.

Mistress Tiffany approached us. “That was a wonderful match,” she said. “Rather short, but pretty entertaining. Now slave, you have your prize. Enjoy.”

Catherine turned over on her backside and looked up at me, breathing heavy, her face curled into a snarl. I pushed her legs open and she held up her loin-cloth and made room for me between her thighs. She shut her eyes and remained docile as I rubbed the head of my prick against her pussy’s opening. I was so nervous, so eager with excitement I was licking my lips as I wet the head of my prick with her pussy juice. All these years, all these months ... lost in Nigeria, I was finally about to fulfil my dream of claiming Catherine’s pussy.

I thrust my prick into her. Catherine murmured a grunting sound and I did too as her warm pussy swallowed my prick like a thick glove. It felt so good ... it was unlike anything I’d felt ever in my life. The room exploded in wild cheers as I raised my head upwards and thrust more of my prick into my girlfriend’s pussy. I encountered no obstruction - she’d lost her virginity without me. That was to be expected being a bitch-slave and everything.

Sweat rolled from my brow into my eyes and repeatedly I kept swiping it off. I was slamming into Catherine’s as hard as I could, grunting breathlessly as I did. She did moan and her eyes remained shut, her brow furrowed in a knot. She didn’t want to look like she was enjoying it and really I didn’t care. I still loved her, but at the same time I was angry at her. Angry that she betrayed me, betrayed the oath we’d sworn to be with each other, just us and no one else. I was angry that she’d allowed herself become seduced by this slavery lifestyle just as I too have become, and hating me for coming to attempt to take her back into the real world and turning her back at me. I was angry that she’d given her pussy freely to the Black Masters, whoever might demand it from her, but I’d had to fight with her to get it. And now I was mad at her for appearing this unemotional towards me and not making like she was enjoying my cock inside her ... when all these past years back home we’d talked about getting married and raising a family together once we finished college.

I too soon shut my eyes and conjured up the image of Olu Shango fucking that Canadian bitch at the resort - my God, how long ago was that? - I pictured myself in his place, pounding down hard at the slut the way he did. I pictured Catherine in her place: listened to her screaming and whimpering inside my head and the sound of her voice made me quicken my pace. I was panting like a marathon runner. Catherine’s pussy was warm and wet and amazing. My prick just making squishy sounds each time I plugged her hole. The Black Masters and Mistresses were all cheering and laughing all around me. There was the pressure building down in my balls. It was unbelievable ... it warmed me all over. I felt my arm muscles push out. I was groaning aloud now and I fell down on Catherine, wrapped my arms under her and kept punishing her cunt as hard and fast as I could ... the sensation pressing down in my balls and now racing all the way towards my prick.

“Agghhh ... I’m gonna cum,” I croaked into her ear, my eyes opened and shut. “I’m gonna cummm ...”

The cheers went wild in the room. A wave of crackle went round the room.

“ - hear that? The white boi wants to cum!”

“ - cum, white boi! Cum for mummy!”

“ - slave’s got the white boi cumming quick!”

I felt my river of cum spurt out of my prick and swim like a missile inside Catherine’s pussy. It was then I got a response from her. She held her legs back, her face knotted in a frame of pain while her mouth hollered a loud scream. I grunted some more and felt another spurt swim out of my dick to invade her womb. More spurts poured out of me and goose bumps broke over my arms and shoulders as then I felt my prick grow weak and deflated inside her cunt and then I withdrew from her and rolled to the side, breathing heavily. I looked over my head and saw the Black Masters and Mistresses in the room clapping and whopping like crazy. I turned to look at Catherine. She too was breathing heavy and sweating too. I stretched my hand to caress her breasts. She took my hand off from her. I wanted to tell her I wasn’t angry with her anymore. I wanted to tell her that I still loved her and wanted to marry her.

Catherine got up and rushed out of the room. The Black Masters an Mistresses watched her leave the room and soon they too were leaving. Mistress Vuzela gave me back my chastity cage to wear and locked the little padlock on it and wore be back the dog collar - I was back to being a slave again.

The black man whom I’d earlier thought of as being familiar was standing back while everyone else filed out of the room. He walked towards me, smiling.

“Hi there, white boi,” he winked at me. “You’re a long way from Buffalo, aren’t you?”

He turned around and walked out of the room leaving me standing there looking at him dumb-founded. His voice. I recognise that voice. And those eyes ... they could only belong to one person.

Thaddeus Black!

The End