400 Days of Oppression (6 page)

“Oh my God! That was incredible! Don’t stop. Fuck me again, Daddy!”

Abruptly, without the slightest warning, Kenyatta pulled me onto his lap, belly across his knees, forehead brushing the floor, ass in the air. He never asked me if I was into being dominated or spanked. He just did it. Before I could say a word, his palm came down on my ass.

“What the—”

He spanked me again and again, reddening my ass cheeks and raising welts. Then he bit me. He leaned down and seized my still sore and throbbing buttocks in his mouth and bit down hard.

“Ahhhhhh! Fuuuuuck! Stop!”

I couldn’t believe he’d just bitten me. It was somehow more disturbing than the spanking. Yet, I was powerfully aroused by it all. He rolled me off his lap and stood. I was still lying there on the living room floor with my legs quivering and my breaths coming in short rapid bursts, Kenyatta’s sweat and semen drying on my belly, when he stooped, picked up his clothes, and began to dress himself.

“You’re leaving?”

“I’ll be back.”

“When?”

“Tomorrow.”

“So what was this? Why’d you bite me? What was that spanking for,” I asked still trying to catch my breath.

“Fun. I’ll be back.”

He turned and walked out the door leaving a noticeable absence as if he’d taken a part of me with him. After being single for years, I suddenly felt incredibly alone. If Kenyatta never came back, I knew I’d miss him forever. I couldn’t remember ever feeling that way about anyone. I reached down and rubbed my ass where Kenyatta had spanked me. It was still warm, raw, and sore, sensitive to the touch. When I pulled my hands away, my fingertips were red. He had drawn blood. I stood and locked the front door behind him then ran to the bathroom. Kenyatta may have gone, but he had left me with something, his signature. His teeth marks were embedded in my left buttock. He had broken the skin and the indent of each tooth was clearly visible. Blood dribbled down the back of my leg. I smiled, remembering the feel of the mouth that had caused the damage. I dreamed about him all evening, rubbing my wounded ass and wondering if there was something wrong with me that I had enjoyed the pain, enjoyed submitting to this man I barely knew.

C
HAPTER
III

He swatted my mop bucket away and it skidded across the floor, splashing suds and water onto the tile. I squeezed the wet rag in my hand as he smacked my bare ass. I knew what was next.

I moaned in ecstasy as much as pain, anticipating his length filling me. I felt his rough hands grab my hips, his strong fingers kneading the flesh, gripping hard as he forced his solid length inside of me. He entered easily. I was already wet from anticipation. Still, my breath caught in my throat as his flesh entered mine. His cock was so long it still caused me pain even after all these months. That first thrust felt as if the head of his cock jabbed my ribcage. I gasped in shock then moaned again as a shudder went from between my thighs all the way up my spine. He felt so good I wanted to scream. I could feel his hard chest against my back, his thighs against the back of mine, his breath against my cheek, as he thrust that magnificent organ of his deeper inside of me.

“I love you, master. I love you,” I said.

His only reply was a tug of my hair and his teeth sinking into my shoulder as he pounded deeper within me. I collapsed to the tile floor, unable to support myself on my hands and knees with both his weight and the weight of the chains pressing down on me. He continued to fuck me, harder now. He pulled my hips hard against him to meet his thrusts. Our rhythm was now something violent and powerful. He smacked my ass over and over as he fucked me. I felt his thumb lubed with saliva slide between my buttocks and into my ass and I knew what was coming next. He was so large that I had always had difficulty taking him this way. So, of course he had made anal sex a regular part of our love-play. Now he was even less gentle than normal. He went slow at first, easing it in inch by inch as he held himself up on his powerful arms and gradually descended until his entire length slid inside me. It was excruciating. I felt my stomach cramp as his erection pulsed and pounded within my distended rectum. Then he became more forceful, aggressively jack-hammering his thick cock in and out of my ass as if he were trying to drive me right through the floorboards. He reached around and wrapped one of his massive biceps around my throat and constricted until my windpipe slammed shut.

Between the pain in my anus and the sudden loss of oxygen, I began to panic. Spots danced before my eyes and I thrashed and bucked, panicking as everything began to go dark, trying to free myself. I scratched at his hands and arms and tried to pry his arm from around my throat, but it was like trying to bend iron. Then he reached his other arm beneath me as he dropped his entire weight onto my back, still thrusting relentlessly.

His fingers found my clitoris easily and he slipped his index finger first inside me to wet it with my juices before flicking it rapidly back and forth across my swollen clit. The pain, the loss of oxygen, and now the delirious sensations radiating from my sex brought me to the most explosive orgasm I could remember. Every muscle contracted as if shocked with a taser and then vibrated and convulsed as waves of ecstasy tore through my helpless body. My arms and legs thrashed and kicked. My back arched and a scream tore from my throat as Kenyatta finally relaxed his grip. My asshole contracted around my master’s cock and I came again while Kenyatta continued fucking my sore and swollen anus with his mesomorphic organ, still fingering my engorged clit. He bit the back of my neck and growled and I knew he was about to cum. He withdrew his cock from my asshole abruptly. It felt as if he had turned it inside out. I screamed in pain and my guts cramped again. My rectum was so badly chafed it felt like it was on fire. Kenyatta grabbed one of my arms and turned me over.

“Look at me!”

He had his cock in his hand, squeezing it tight, as he knelt above me, straddling my chest with that magnificent organ dangling inches from my lips. Finally, I was able to look up at his face. He was so gorgeous. I smiled as his seed rained down upon my face. I licked it from my lips, relishing the salty taste of his semen as it dribbled down my cheeks and onto my lips.

“You look beautiful like that,” Kenyatta said smiling. He used one finger to scoop some of his semen off my chin and spoon it into my mouth. I sucked it from his finger tip, twirling my tongue along the tip of his finger the way I did when I sucked his cock. A shudder went through him.

“Stick out your tongue.”

I did as I was told and Kenyatta squeezed out the last of his semen onto my outstretched tongue.

“This is my body. This is my blood,” he said with a seriousness and solemnity that would have been comical from anyone but him.

He had once told me that swallowing his cum to him was like taking communion with a God. It made him feel powerful to watch me lick his seed from my lips. It made me feel so submissive that I always wanted to make love immediately afterward or to be hugged and cuddled in his powerful arms or to curl up at the feet of my master like a lap dog, which is usually what I settled for. This time he just handed me back my bucket and walked upstairs to dress for work.

“Have that floor clean by the time I’m ready to leave.”

I was forbidden even to say, “Yes, Master” now. None of the abductees aboard the slave ships spoke English yet so neither was I allowed to. Instead I nodded my head and picked up my scrub brush. Feeling the absence of him as a hollow place in my heart and every orifice he’d entered.

Kenyatta came back down just as I finished the hallway. He looked amazing in his dark business suit and white shirt with gray pinstriped tie. He always dressed like he was running for president and it worked for him. He looked so handsome standing there like that that my own sense of wretchedness increased. I knew what I must have looked like in comparison.

“Get below.”

I crawled, dragging my chains. The iron collar around my neck cut deeper into my skin as the weight of the other chains attached to it dragged behind me. Blood from my neck dripped onto the tile floor I had just spent the last hour scrubbing insuring that there would be more work for me the next day. The humidity in the basement overwhelmed me after having been upstairs for even that brief period. It felt like I was walking through a wall of moist heat as I crossed the threshold. Kenyatta stood above me, watching, as I crawled. I knew that watching me crawl was one of the things that seemed to turn him on the most. He would have fucked me again, right there on the stairs if it wouldn’t have gotten his suit dirty and made him late for work. The stairs scraped my knees as I crawled down them. I began to moan and then to cry as I dragged my broken body down into the basement and across the hard concrete floor.

“Back in your box now.”

His voice was not angry or harsh but matter of fact as if he was merely giving direction to a child who needed to be reminded of such things, as if he was merely reminding me to brush my teeth or wash my hands before dinner. I crawled into the box and Kenyatta padlocked it and left without a word. He closed the basement door and both the heat and the darkness redoubled.

I was constantly thirsty, constantly hungry, miserable from sunrise to sunset except for those brief moments when Kenyatta brought me out to fuck me or whip me or both. His cock inside of me was the only joy in my life now. Perhaps that was the other lesson he was trying to teach me, that I needed him.

The lingering taste of Kenyatta’s semen recalled the vivid memory of the first time I’d taken his manhood between my lips. Kenyatta was the first man I’d given a blowjob to since my first blowjob. I had hated the act. When I was raped as a child, the taste and texture of my abuser’s semen, the stench of his unwashed testicles, had stuck with me for years. I would wake up screaming with that taste on my lips. The first time Kenyatta asked me to suck his cock, I had refused, repulsed by the very idea of it.

“I-I don’t do that.”

Kenyatta raised an eyebrow and stared at me curiously.

“A woman who doesn’t give head is only half a woman. Show me a woman who doesn’t suck her man’s cock and I’ll show you a man who is looking for any and every opportunity to cheat on her. I won’t tell you, you’d do it if you loved me. Not because it isn’t true, but because it’s too cliché. I will say that if you want to remain the only woman in my life, you will learn to please me.”

He leaned back in his chair with his eyebrow still cocked, a smug expression on his face, awaiting my reply.

“Even if a woman is the best lover you ever had? If she does everything else perfectly, just the way you like it, but just doesn’t suck your dick, that isn’t enough?”

Kenyatta smirked and shook his head, eyes still boring into my skull like he was trying to read my thoughts.

“A woman who doesn’t give head could never be the best lover I ever had and she wouldn’t be my lover for long.”

Kenyatta wasn’t a man given to threats. He said it as a simple matter of fact. If I didn’t give him head he would get it from someone else. The thought of losing him to some cum-guzzling slut almost brought tears to my eyes.

“I-I don’t know how.”

“I’ll show you.”

Kenyatta was a patient teacher. He calmly stood and unbuckled his pants, unzipped them and let them fall to his ankles. He wore silk boxers, black, with little red and gold paisleys on them. He let them slip down to his ankles as well. He guided me gently to my knees with just the slightest pressure from his manicured fingertips on my shoulders until my nose was level with the head of his turgid organ. He grabbed my jaw with his strong hand and slipped his thumb into my mouth.

“Suck it.”

I did as instructed, sucking on his thumb.

“Swirl your tongue around the tip.”

I obeyed.

“Now tickle the underside with your tongue.”

Again, I obeyed, looking up at him, desperate for his approval.

“Now, slide it down your throat.”

I took his thumb as deep in my mouth as it would go.

“In and out.”

I slid his thumb in and out of my mouth, my eyes alternating from looking up at him and staring at his erect penis, which was still bobbing in the air, inches from my face.

“I don’t feel your tongue.”

I swirled my tongue around the tip of his thumb again as I continued sliding it in and out of my mouth. I flicked my tongue along the underside of his thumb as he had instructed me to do earlier.

“Now take it out of your mouth and lick up and down both sides.”

I obeyed once more.

“Now, repeat. Do everything I told you to do, exactly the way I told you to do it, but now, I want you to do it to my cock.”

I felt a tremor of fear and a brief moment of revulsion, but then I obeyed. I eased his engorged flesh between my lips and began bobbing my head up and down, sliding his cock in and out of my mouth. I flicked it with my tongue then swirled my tongue around the head like I was licking a lollipop. I licked up and down the shaft, and finally eased it as far down my throat as I could without gagging.