This story is pornoGRAPHIC fiction! Should depictions of homosexual acts or interracial domination offend your sensibilities, read no further!! If you are under the age of consent, turn back at once!!! Otherwise, read on...
THUG CASH MASTER, by Skorpio
Part Four: Black God
Brad lay on his right side, wearing nothing but his white cotton briefs. His wrists and ankles were hog-tied behind his back. He ached and shivered. The living room floor was hardwood and the windows were open.
Although it had begun as a hot, humid August night, the temperature had dropped. The window fan introduced a cold gust into the room. Brad heard the sound of distant thunder. A storm was coming. He had goose bumps.
When the alarm clock in the bedroom rang at 6:30, Brad was still awake. He heard Reese's feet hit the floor.
Reese stomped into the living room. Brad looked up and saw the tall Black man looking down at him with undisguised contempt.
Reese was naked and the contrast between their two bodies was striking. The scene resembled that of a young Mandingo warrior standing over a hairy albino ape.
Reese, who was twenty-four years old and stood six feet, three inches tall, had a smooth, muscular physique the color of coffee with two drops of cream. Tattoos illustrated his guns, pecs, and ripped abs like graffiti. The short hairs under his arms and at his crotch were jet black. His swollen cock dangled like a banana dipped in chocolate. His huge nuts hung low in a velvet sack fit for jewels.
Brad was thirty-one years old and stood five feet, ten inches (when allowed upright). His pallid body bordered on scrawny. He was slender with almost no muscle definition. A patchy carpet of hair covered his chest, belly, and back. His thighs and calves were hairy too. His only outstanding feature was a plump, round ass encased in snug white briefs.
Reese briefly wondered if that ass was hairy too, before unknotting the silk ties that bound Brad's wrists and ankles. Brad sat up slowly, awkwardly. It felt good stretching his aching limbs. He had a hangover as well.
Reese towered over him, his long but flaccid cock dangling only inches away. The look of lust commingled with fear on Brad's face was priceless and unambiguous.
"Nah, you ain't getting this, bitch. Get on your knees!!" Reese grunted.
Brad obediently assumed a kneeling position. His legs felt numb. There was some tent action going on in the front of his Calvin Kleins, but it was so insignificant that Reese didn't even notice the whiteboy had a hard-on.
"That's better," said Reese, without a trace of a smile. His panther eyes narrowed. "Hope you slept aiiight. I did. Now it's time to go over a few things. What's my name, bitch?"
"It's Reese, Sir,"
"Nah, try again, punk! What did you call that nigga nubian-king?"
"I called him "Sir," Sir!"
"Yah, but what else did you call him? You forgettin' I read all yo e-mails and shit?"
Brad knew what Reese wanted to hear but he was afraid to say it. It was one thing playing out this edgy fantasy on the internet or over the phone, but with a real Black man, a real thug, face to face? Why was it so hard for him to accept that his fantasy had become a reality?
"Let me hear you say it, bitch!" Reese goaded. "What else did you call that nigga?"
Brad was sleepless, sore, frightened, broken. Reese had raped his computer for information. There was no point in denying what Reese already knew.
"I called him God, Sir," Brad admitted, somewhat reluctantly.
Reese roared with laughter, a cold, sadistic, mocking laugh that made Brad's penis wilt.
"So, how you gonna call me from now on, whiteboy?"
"God, Sir," Brad whimpered. "Your name is God."
"Yahhh, I like that!" said Reese, with the barest hint of a smile. His nostrils flared. His eyes were inscrutable like a cat's. "Yah, I like that a lot! You can call me God from now on! That's about right. Now tell me somethin' else... if I'm God, what does that make you?"
"I...don--don't know, Sir, " Brad stammered.
"It makes you a little white worm." said Reese, slowly, emphasizing every word. "That's what you are.
You're a little white worm that I can step on whenever I want. Do you understand me, bitch??? You want me to step on you?? Huh? Let me hear you say it.
What are you?"
"I'm a little white worm, Sir," Brad replied, helplessly. "I'm just a little white worm. I want you to step on me"
As much as this excited him, Brad felt some part of himself crumble to dust, some clinging vestige of white male pride disintegrating under Reese's domination.
Reese was totally digging this situation. He loved having a cracker under his control. It was like getting back at all white people for all their shit. The fact that Brad was a fag only meant that Reese would control him through his sexual fantasies.
Keep the bitch horny for his dick, let him suck it from time to time. If this cracker got his freak on giving money to brothas and being treated like a piece of shit, well, how fucking hard was that? That's all it would take, Reese figured. Like taking candy from a baby.
"You can kiss the head of my dick now," said Reese. "Just kiss it. Don't suck it and keep yo tongue in yo mouth, understand? Just yo lips."
"Yes, God, I understand," said Brad.
Still on his knees, Brad leaned forward and kissed the dark brown head of Reese's cock. It took all Brad's self-control not to wrap his mouth around that fleshy brown helmet.
"Now kiss my nuts and say Thank You God."
Brad placed his soft lips on each large testicle, pausing to inhale the aroma. He loved the way Reese smelled. The overpowering scent made his senses swim.
"Thank You God," he said both times.
"Good slave. Now listen up, worm," said Reese. "While I'm takin' a shower, I want yo ass in the kitchen making breakfast. Some scrambled eggs, bitch, and ham or bacon or whatever you got, just cook it up like a good lil bitch, aiiight? And make some damn coffee. You hear me?"
"Yes, Sir," said Brad meekly, completely under Reese's domination.
"What are you?" demanded Reese, scratching his hard, inked stomach. Humiliating this cracker was making his dick hard, but there would be time for that later.
"I'm a little white worm," said Brad.
"Do what I told you, worm! Git busy!"
At that moment there was a flash of lightning followed almost at once by rumbling thunder. Rain poured down in torrents.
"Yes, God," said Brad.
TO BE CONTINUED... IN PART FIVE: WHITE WORM