White Bitch Chronicles

White Bitch Chronicles: Episode 7: Buel Goes to the Dungeon

(c)2017 Herb Cat. Do not reproduce or distribute this story without the author's permission.

Please note: this story depicts oral, anal, and group sex between males of different races, as well as bondage and cuckolding. If any of these offend you or are illegal to publish in your jurisdiction, or you are under the age of 18, read no further.

The characters, locations and incidents in this story are fictional. Any resemblance to actual events or locales, or persons, living or dead, is entirely coincidental.

As an author, I welcome feedback on my writing. Please send any comments about this story, positive or negative, to Herb_Cat@mailcity.com. Thank you.

.oOo.

I didn't know why, but I had always been intimidated by black men. I was as progressive, as liberal, as open-minded, as the next guy. I made a conscious effort to be color-blind at work, at play, at church. But, like I said, it required a conscious effort. Subconsciously, I could not erase the fact I found black men frightening, no, perhaps threatening is a better word. No, not threatening the way you might think. I mean, no black man had ever bullied me verbally or endangered me physically. But there was just something about the presence of a black man that I found crippling to my psyche.

I did all I could to get over this insecurity. I'm in charge of a GM dealership, and I made sure to have both races represented both on the sales floor and in the service department. My wife Louise and I settled into an integrated suburb of Omaha, where our children Lou, Frankie and Noel went to integrated schools, and every Sunday we attended an integrated church. My wife and children had many friends of both races. In fact, our middle child, Frankie, who happens to be deaf, has recently joined a club at church for teenage boys of both races, and he loves it. So obviously, the problem was with me.

When I went to work that particular Thursday, I didn't anticipate it being anything other than normal. I hoped to find some new customers for my cars, and keep my old customers happy, coming back for service. Of course in my business, well, probably any business, you can't expect every customer to be happy. So I knew the day was about to take a turn for the worse when old Mr Hawkins walked in. He'd bought a used Chevy from us six years ago, and every time he felt a little stutter or heard a little murmur, he'd come running back to us, demanding we make it right. "You said when I bought it, it ran like new," he'd say every time he came back, insinuating we should back up our promise with free service. Thomas, who runs the service department, had seen Hawkins drive up and had quickly made himself scarce, so I was forced to confront the old man myself and listen to his complaint. He showed me a dirty rag. "Something's leakin' out." He held the rag up for me to examine. "You better fix it. You said when I bought it, it ran like new. Shouldn't be leakin' like this." I nodded, filled out a work order, smiled and promised him we'd take a look.

I walked back to the lifts. All the mechanics were busy, but Reuban was just finishing up. Shit, I thought to myself. Reuban was the absolute best mechanic we had. An expert diagnostician. If anyone would make Hawkins' car run smooth, he could. But I hated to talk to him. He wasn't disrespectful or anything. In fact, he hardly ever spoke. Just quietly did his work. But the mere fact that he was this huge dark-skinned black man made me nervous. Thomas never had any difficulty talking to Reuban, so like I said, the problem was with me.

I approached him and showed him the work order. "I'll get on it right away, Buel." I felt my legs shaking and quickly went back to my desk. The other employees called the boss Mr Armbruster. Reuban always said Buel. I never confronted him, becuse of the excellent work he did. As long as he kept my customers happy and coming back, I figured he could call me anything he wanted. Be careful what you wish for.

A few hours later, I was going over the monthly sales report, when I heard, "Buel." He didn't shout it or anything. Just said it. Yet it made me jump out of my skin. "Just wanted to let you know, I finished the old honky's car." Reuban knew his position was secure and so didn't hesitate to use the word honky in front of his white boss.

"I think Thomas should be back now. Give him the keys."

"OK, Buel." He turned to leave. I started breathing easier.

But then I realized. I had to fix this problem I had. "Wait, Reuban. After that, would you mind coming back here? I have something I want to talk to you about."

He gave me an odd look, but shruged his shoulders, and left. I began shaking like a leaf. "Now you've done it, Buel," I said to myself. "What the hell are you going to say to him?" I was beginning to hope he'd forget and not come back. Of course, he didn't forget, and by the time he returned to my office, I was again shaking all over.

He sat down on the one chair other than my own. He was silent. Just looked at me, waiting for me to talk. I had to compose myself. I picked up the receiver but my hand was trembling so much I put it back down and pressed Speaker and told my secretary to hold my calls and see that we got no interruptions. I was stammering. I pressed Off. I realized I hadn't looked Reuban in the eye since he came in. I looked up. He was sitting there, looking at me. Silent. Calm.

I had to say something. Choking, I said, "I'm sorry, Reuban. I don't know why I'm so nervous."

"I do."

"You do?"

"Yes, Buel. It's only natural and right for a honky to feel ill-at-ease in the presence of a black man."

"What?" I couldn't believe my ears. "No it's not," I protested. "It's neither natural nor right." I regained my voice but my hands were still quivering. The pencil I was holding was tapping itself on my desk.

"Yes, it is," he repeated.

"No. Black. White. It makes no difference. Under the skin, we're both the same."

"No we ain't."

"We're both human. We're both men."

"No we ain't."

"Well, then, please, Reuban, elucidate." I immediately regretted my sarcasm. It just came out. I couldn't pull it back.

"You don't want to hear."

"Yes I do. You tell me why you and I are not the same." I was getting angry. The pencil in my hand broke in two.

"You don't want to hear," he said again.

"I swear I do."

"You swear?"

"Yes, Reuban, cross my heart." A stupid, childish, girlish expression. It just came out. Again I couldn't pull it back. I detected a slight smirk on Reuban's face. "Look, Reuban, you know we all depend on you here. Your job is not in jeopardy. Don't worry about offending me." (As if he hadn't already.) "Tell me the truth. Why aren't we the same."

"The truth?"

"Yes, damn it, the truth." Why did I just swear?

"Buel. I can show you what the truth is, but you probably won't like it. Most honkies can't accept being shown the error of your ways."

I took a deep breath. "Reuban, I know a lot of white folks are ignorant bigots. But I consider myself open-minded. Please don't lump us all together. If there's something I need to know, I'm willing to learn."

"You mean that."

"Yes." I resisted crossing my heart again.

"We'll see about that. If you really mean what you say, I'll pick you up tomorrow night and take you to my club. I warn you, though. What you're going to learn about black men, about honkies, about yourself, will change your life forever. If you decide to back out, text me. I would not be surprised. But otherwise, I'll pick you up at 9."

Louise was thrilled when I told her. "Oh, Buel, that's wonderful. It's about time you made some black friends. I'm so proud of you." She kissed me. It gave me some hope for what might happen in bed that night. "Now, what are you going to wear? Is it a formal club or casual?"

"I don't know, I didn't ask."

"No, of course not, you men don't care about things like that. Maybe your sports jacket over a pair of neat jeans. And a tie, definitely. And polish your shoes. The men in church, the black men, always have well-polished shoes."

Yes, I had thought of cancelling our "date." But now there was no way I couldn't disappoint Louise. I had to go through with it. At ten minutes to nine, Reuban rang out bell. "Good evening, Buel. Good evening, Louise." He was dressed in leather pants, motorcycle boots, and a black T.

"I wasn't sure what to wear."

"That's fine. Don't worry about what to wear."

"You see, Louise, I told you. Oh, Reuban, you never met my children." I introduced my daughter Lou, and our sons Frankie and Noel. I interpreted Frakie's signing. "Frankie says 'Good evening, Sir Reuban.'" I thought that was a little stilted. Louise offered Reuban a glass of wine, but he insisted we best get on our way. "Yep," I said, maybe a little too excitedly, "don't want to be late."

He drove silently and I sat nervously. In about twenty miutes we came into to an industrial area. Most of the warehouses were dark, but there was one bulding lit up, and it was there he parked. "The bright sign said The Dungeon." I had heard of The Dungeon, but of course I'd never been inside. It was the area's famous (notorious?) gay club. I read another sign next to the door:

Sunday - Cowboy Night

Monday - Leather Night

Tuesday - Private

Wednesday - Bear Night

Thursday - Bondage Night

Friday - Twink Night

Saturday - Everyone Welcome

That day was Tuesday.

"You gonna back out, honky?"

What? And show I not only feared black men but was also homophobic? "No, Sir."

"Good. And I like the Sir part. Keep it up." I started to open my door. The interior light came on. "You're very tense, Boy."

"Yes, I am." I knew from personnel records Reuban was nine years younger than I but somehow I just accepted the sobriquet Boy.

"Good. I like tension in my boy. However, you should relax a little bit. Here, I'll give you something." He reached over into the glove compartment and pulled out a tiny bottle with a red label that had a picture of a bee and read: Buzz Aroma. Power Packed.

"What's this?" Then after a pause I added, "Sir."

"Just something to help you relax a little, Boy. Open the top and inhale." I did.

"Is it safe, Sir?"

"Quite safe, Boy."

"Is it legal, Sir?"

"Quite legal, Boy." I went to hand it back to him. "No. Keep it for later, Boy. Take another hit when you start to feel tight."

Sir Reuban got out of the car and I followed him to the front door. A large black man stood there. Bouncer? Security? "Evening, Sir. Who you got with you? New boy?" Reuban nodded. I extended my arm for a handshake. It was ignored. We went inside.

The music was pounding loud. The room was very dark, but after my eyes adjusted I could see we were in a bar. I followed Sir Reuban to a table. In a minute, a pale white man in his fifties came over wearing only stiletto heels, a training bra and lacy pink women's briefs. "What can I get you, Sir?" he shouted above the din.

"A beer." I was about to order a pinot noir but the waitress/waiter had already left. I looked around. There were men at the bar, black and white. Others were at tables. I saw them drinking together, convivially it seemed. The blacks joked loudly with each other as they guzzled their brews. The whites, more subdued, smiled as they watched their companions, and merely sipped their mugs.

Two men came over to join us. Sir Reuban introduced me.

"A virgin?" shouted the black man. Sir Reuban nodded. The black man and I exchanged awkward smiles. Since I had a wife and three kids, I was hardly a virgin literally, so I assumed he was asking if it was my first night here. His name was Sir Grady, and he wore a leather vest without a shirt. Before he sat down, I noticed an impressive bulge in his pants. The white man was called Boy Reginald, although his hair was snow white and he looked as old as my father. He was sipping his mug. I was the only one at the table without a drink.

I leaned over to the other "honky" so he could hear me. "You been here often?" I asked.

He put his mouth by my ear. "Sir Grady brings me here every week. I wouldn't miss it. You'll see. You'll want to come back each week also. Try to make Sir Reuban happy so he keeps you." He took another sip of his brew. It was amber in color like Sir's beer, but lacked the foam.

I leaned across to Sir Reuban. "Sir, I think I'd like a beer also?"

He looked at me. "You really do?"

"Yes, Sir. If that's all right with you, Sir. Unless you think I shouldn't, Sir. I mean if it's not good to drink after inhaling that Buzz, Sir."

"No, you can drink. But if you do, you have to promise to drink every drop, Boy."

"Of course, Sir." He raised his hand to get the waitress's/waiter's attention and asked for another mug. The tranny soon returned and gave me a mug. Empty. Sir Reuban opened his hand and gestured for me to hand it to him. I did. I thought he was going to pour me some of his own beer.

Instead, he opened his fly, pulled out his pisser, peed into my mug, and handed it back to me. I wrinkled my brow in disgust. Boy Reginald clicked his mug on mine and shouted "Skol." I took his mug and sniffed it. Sure enough, he was drinking urine. Probably given to him by Sir Grady. We white boys, I surmised, had to drink our beer second hand. I considered walking out and calling for a cab to take me home. Boy Reginald urged me to take a sip. The poor old man seemed to like his "beer." How could I not at least try mine. I brought the mug to my lips and stuck my tongue into the warm yellow liquid. All three were watching me. I closed my eyes. With my left hand I squeezed my nose and poured a teaspoonfull over my tongue. I heard the two Sirs laughing loudly. I opened my eyes again.

"Every drop, Boy," Sir reminded me.

"Yes, Sir." I took another spoonful. I knew I had been conned. Like some stupid freshman initiation stunt. But I resolved to take my bruises like a man.

We sat and chatted. Well, the two Sirs chatted. Boy Reginald and I mostly sat and sipped piss and occasionally exchanged loud whispers. Soon after our mugs had been emptied,--I did not ask for seconds,--the music stopped and a door at the end of the room opened revealing a red-lit hallway. A voice came over the speaker: "Gentlemen, the Dungeon is now open for your pleasure." Everyone stood up and headed into the red passage. We came to two identical doors marked lockers. However, on one was taped a paper reading Blacks, the other Whites. What the hell? I had been transported back to the Jim Crow South. Back to Apartheid. Separate facilities for the races. No one else was objecting. Sir Reuban and Sir Grady peeled off and joined the other black men entering their locker room. I followed Boy Reginald into the one for Whites. The room was brightly lit and I could now see the white men ranged in age from their early twenties right up to Sir Grady and a few other old timers. They had each chosen a locker (although there were no locks on them) and were quickly removing all their clothes. Boy Reginald suggested I strip also.

"Why?"

"It's what us Boys do here each week. It's what Sir Reuban wants you to do."

"Oh, what the hell!" I took off the clothes Louise had so carefully chosen for me, as well as the underwear she allowed me to choose for myself. I felt like I was in an army barracks, surrounded by naked men. Before I closed the locker door, I took another puff of Buzz. Beside me, the waitress/waiter was putting away her/his stilettos and bra and panties. I followed Boy Reginald and the others into the shower where we all scrubbed ourselves. Reginald told me to wash my penis and scrotum and to stick the soap up my ass as much as I could. We rinsed off, took towels from a pile and dried ourselves. Beside the bin for our used towels were three other bins. One bin contained dog collars. Boy Reginald put one on and handed me one. Each collar was fitted with four rings to attach the dog's leash to. Why four, I didn't know. The next bin had leather cuffs, which we put on our wrists. They each had one ring. The third also had leather cuffs with rings, but these were for our ankles. Each man, or rather, Boy, bent over to put them on exposing his white freshly washed ass to all the others. Thus shackled, we went barefoot and bare-assed through another doorway back into a pitch black hallway. We shuffled along trying to follow those ahead of us, trying to keep up. In the darkness, I felt myself being pawed. Hands,--large hands,--were groping my nipples, my buttocks, yes, even my genitals. A couple times, I was pulled out of the line and felt my mouth pressed into large lips. The first time I tried to clench my mouth tight, but then my balls were squeezed and when I opened my mouth to scream, a tongue forced its way deep into my mouth. The second time I didn't resist.

At the end of the hall, we entered a door marked Dungeon. There was some light, enough to make out an array of equipment around the room. The floor and walls were covered with red gym mats. To protect us from bodily injury or to muffle our screaming objections, which? Maybe both. Filing into the room from their own door were the black men. I spotted Sir Reuban. He was still wearing his leather pants and boots, but he had doffed his T and now sported a leather chest harness. Very striking. He saw me and sauntered over. "Well, Boy, are you starting to get the picture?"

"No, Sir, I'm very confused. My head is full of questions, Sir."

"Ask away, Boy. You wanted the truth. I'm here to enlighten you, Boy. The sooner you learn, the better."

"Why are all the white men here called Boys?"

"Because you aren't men, Boy."

"I beg your pardon, Sir?"

"Did you study all the white dicks when you were in the shower?"

"No, Sir."

"Why not?"

"It's embarrassing to look at another male's genitals, Sir."

"No, it's embarrassing for a white boy, and rightly so. You honkies ought to be embarrassed by your miniature equipment. Look at your dick, Boy. Why it hardly sticks out at all. How big is it erect, Boy? Four inches, I would guess. That's how big my cock was when I was ten. You got the dicky of a ten-year old." I felt emasculated. "Look around you. Look at the other white dicks. Most of them are bigger than yours but none of them are anything to be proud of, are they, Boy?"

"I guess not, Sir."

No, Boy, not compared to mine. You saw it when I gave you your drink before. What did you think of it, Boy?"

"Sir, I really didn't study it?"

"No? Too ashamed, Boy? Well, here take a good look now." Sir Reuban opened his pants and pulled out this giant hose. It was limp, but it hung halfway down to his knees. "Tell me what you see, Boy?"

"Sir, it's the biggest cock I've ever seen."

"That's right, it's a man's cock, Boy. What color is it?"

"Black, Sir. Very black."

"Right again, Boy. A real man's cock is black, because we blacks are real men, Boy. What else?"

"It's intact, Sir."

"Yes, it's uncut. Uncircumsized. What else, Boy?"

"You have very large balls, Sir. The size of lemons, Sir."

"And yours, Boy? Go on, feel your nuts. How big are a white boy's nuts?"

I felt them. "They're about the size of of olives, Sir. Small ones. Bullets, Sir."

"Take a good look around you, Boy. Take a good look at the other black cocks, Boy. Don't be reticent. We men ain't ashamed of what we got, Boy." My eyes scanned the room. I saw black cocks limp and black cocks erect. Some pointed straight out from their bodies. Some pointed up to the sky. But none of them were smaller than the largest white dick in the room. "So, now you tell me, are you a man or a boy?"

"I know now I am a boy, Sir."

"Say it louder, Boy."

I shouted, "I know now I am a boy, Sir!" The whole room heard me. Other black men concurred, "That's right, Boy." "Yo sho is, Boy." "Yo is learnin', Boy."

"OK, next question."

"Why do you men abuse us, Sir? What did we do to get treated like this, Sir?"

"There are three reasons for the treatment you've already gotten and will get before this night is over, Boy Buel. Number one, for discipline. Little boys must learn to be submissive. That comes through attentive discipline. Number two, for atonement. Boy, don't get me started on what you whiteys did. You know your history. You know your sins. It's time you white boys paid for what you done. You understand that, Boy?"

"Yes, Sir. I do. I am ashamed of how my race treated you in the past, Sir, and in many ways is still treating you. But what is the third reason, Sir?

"The third is for our amusement, Boy. We enjoy it. It's fun. And as men, we deserve to have some fun. Ain't that right, Boy." I nodded. "We don't fuckin' care if you like it or not. We're gonna keep treatin' you like this cause we like doin' it, Boy. Any more questions?"

"What is all this equipment for, Sir?"

"Now you're talkin', Boy. Time for me to have some fun. I'm gonna show you what each one is for. Come with me, Boy." I followed him across the room to two boards forming a large X on one wall. "Do you know what this is, Boy?"

"It looks like St. Andrew's Cross, Sir."

"That's right, Boy. Sir Hiram, string him up." Another black man grabbed the cuff on my right wrist and put the ring on to a hook high over my head. Then he did the same with my left wrist. I was facing the wall. He kicked my legs apart and put the ring on each ankle on a hook that left me standing on tiptoe. I couldn't get free.

"Cat o nine tails, Sir?" Sir Hiram asked.

"No, the horse crop this time." I couldn't see what was happening behind me, but I felt it soon enough. Sir Reuban, the mechanic, my employee, began swatting my bare ass with the crop. I screamed. He laughed.

"Please stop, Sir." I begged.

"Why am I doing this, Boy?" Another lashing.

"For discipline, Sir?"

"No, guess again, Boy?" Another lashing.

"For atonement, Sir?"

"Nope. Not this time, Boy." Another lashing.

"Then you're doing it for amusement, Sir."

"Bingo, Boy. I'm havin' a fuckin' good time givin' your sorry ass this whoopin', and hearin' you scream and beg like a baby." Another lashing. "I worked damn hard in the garage all day, Boy, didn't I?" Another lashing.

"Yes, Sir"

"So I deserve to let off some steam, don't I, Boy. To have some fun, ain't that right." Another lashing.

"Yes, Sir" I was crying now.

"Take him down, Sir Hiram." First my wrists were released and I collapsed on to the floor, my feet still hooked to the wood. He had to twist my legs to release my ankles. I lay there blubbering. A thousand needles were piercing my red buttocks. How much more could I take?

My ears were assailed by other screams. Other white men, that is, other boys were undergoing similar mistreatment for the delight of these black men.

Sir Reuban's voice came through the din. "Put him on the saw horses." Some big black hands lifted me off the floor like a sack of potatoes. White potatoes, of course. They dragged me up on to a playform six inches off the floor and draped me, still dazed, over a saw horse which was screwed securely to the platform. They hooked my ankles to two hooks on the platform so my legs were spread four feet apart. Ahead of me, another sawhorse was already screwed in place. The hands lifted my shoulders up and over that horse and let me drop. The crosspiece of the horse hit me in my nipples. They took my wrists and secured them with ropes to two more hooks on the horse's legs so my arms ran the length of the sawhorse. Another rope went through a ring on my collar down to a hook on the floor. "Look at me, Boy." I raised my head and stared into his cock. "You are my boy, right, Boy?"

"Yes, Sir. I am your boy, Sir Reuban."

"I've made you my boy, Boy. Now it's time to make you my bitch."

"Sir?"

Sir grabbed my poor penis and nuts in one hand and squeezed. "Is this a man's cock, Boy?"

"No, Sir," I moaned. "I am just a boy."

"You're almost not even that, Boy. A dick like yours is more like a clit. Maybe you ought to wear a dress, Boy, Imagine that, my boss going to work in a dress. Show everybody you ain't really a man now. Trouble is you ain't really a girl neither."

"No, Sir."

"You know why?"

"Why, Sir?"

"'Cause you ain't got a pussy, Boy."

"No, Sir."

"So we'll just have to make do with what you do got, Boy?"

"Sir?"

"You don't got a pussy but you do got two cunts. You know that, Boy?"

"Sir?"

"One at each end, Boy? You got one cunt up here..." he stuck his middle finger in my mouth. At that point I was drooling. He pulled his finger out. "...and you got another one back here." He stuck the same finger into my asshole. My butt jumped, but I couldn't move because of the cuffs. "Now be a good little bitch and let Sir Reuban deflower those pretty little cunts of yours. Open your mouth, Boy." I had no fight left in me. I opened my mouth. "Now give me head, Boy." I began to suck. I had to push my head back to take him in, but his feet were on the floor not on the platform, so I could manage it. I closed my eyes. Here I was sucking off a man. A black man. A younger man. An employee. "That's a good bitch, Boy." He grabbed my head began pushing his big cock in and out. He was fucking my face. My mouth had truly become a cunt for his pleasure. I could taste his precum on my tongue. His erection was a steel rod. Suddenly he stopped and pulled out. "Here, Boy, take another whiff of Buzz." He held a bottle in front of my nose. Then he disappeared and in the next moment I felt his cock pushing on my other cunt. How could I make this end? How could I get it over with? Something drained out of me and I felt my sphincter loosen up. Sir Reuban pushed in. "Are you my bitch now, Boy?"

"Yes, Sir."

"Tell me, Boy."

"I am your bitch, Sir Reuban."

"Can't hear you, Boy."

"I am your bitch, Sir Reuban," I shouted. Again the whole room heard me. And again other black men laughed at me, "That's right, Boy." "Yo sho is, Boy." "Yo is learnin', Boy."

Sir Reuban's cock was working my asshole, gradually going deeper, but now another black cock was insisting on entrance into my oral cunt. I opened up. I was pinned like a pig on a spit between two cocks, both fucking me with powerful thrusts. The cock in my mouth had pushed down into my throat when I felt it shudder. He pulled back and I tasted several shots of cum. At that moment, Sir Reuban also began filling my asshole with his cum. Both men left me to go after other Boys, and immediately two new black men came to use the new virgin. Now I knew what virgin meant. My virginity was lost that night.

With the cum of three or four cocks in my mouth and I think half a dozen up my ass, I was taken off the sawhorses. Again I wanted to just slump on to the floor. But big black hands grabbed my dog collar and hooked four long leashes to it. The leashes came from pulleys in the ceiling, and by pulling on these, they forced me into a kneeling position. More black cocks were thrust into my face and I serviced them all. I was becoming an expert cocksucker, or as Sir Reuban said, a good bitch. Some black men couldn't wait until my mouth was free and just shot their loads on to my face. One eye was sealed shut with cum, the other half shut.

The leashes were released but I was not allowed to lie down. I was carried over to a leather sling. It felt good to lay my weary bones down. My ankles were raised and hooked to two of the chains holding the sling. My dripping asshole was now in position for further fucking.

My body was tired. I shut my eyes. I knew my asshole was being used by a succession of men for their pleasure. My head was spinning. Snatches of Sir Reuban's words kept calling out to my brain: "A dick like yours is more like a clit, Boy." "You are my bitch, Boy." "You got two cunts, Boy." These words were intermixed with visions of cocks. Real cocks. Real man cocks. Big black cocks. Then came the vision of the waitress/waiter. I saw her/his heels, then her/his lacy panties, then her/his bra, but when I looked up at her/his face, I saw my own. I knew I was learning something important about myself. Then, at that very moment, it happened. Some black cock hit something inside my ass, and I felt euphoric. My tiny clit dick grew hard and spurted cum. I screamed an orgasmic "Yes, Yes!" I could not remember ever feeling such an emotional peak in all the years I had fucked Louise. I screamed, "It's true!"

"What's true, Boy?" The owner of the cock in my ass leaned forward and repeated the question, "What's true, Boy?"

I opened my eyes and saw Sir Reuban. His black face shone like sunlight. The rest of the world had disappeared. He was the owner of my total existance. He said a third time, "What's true, Boy?"

"I am a bitch, Sir. I am your bitch, Sir. Fuck me, Sir. Fuck me, please fuck me, Sir." I was crying like a baby. I was a baby. A newborn, for the first time just entering into life. "I am your bitch, Sir."

"And a good bitch, Boy." He began pumping his precious cum into my asshole. I was deliriously happy.

He pulled out and more cocks took his place. I was in heaven.

I knew there was another sling behind me, beyond my head. I knew some Boy was getting fucked there over and over just as I was. I imagined it was old Boy Reginald. All my ears heard were screams, but in my mind I hear Boy Reginald telling me again, "Sir Grady brings me here every week. I wouldn't miss it. You'll see. You'll want to come back each week also. Try to make Sir Reuban happy so he keeps you."

I called out, "Sir Reuban, please keep me, Sir."

There were more devices that night, more pieces of equipment, more positions for getting my two boy cunts fucked by black Sirs. But I had had my revelation. I had learned who I was. Eventually, we Boys went back to the locker room. We didn't shower again. We didn't want to wash away the wonderful remnants of our night of fucking. We opened our lockers and got dressed. I met Sir Reuban back in the bar, and we headed for his car. He wrapped his big strong arm around me. I kept mumbling, "Sir Reuban, please keep me, Sir."

.oOo.

The next morning, at work, I tried to carry on on as usual, even though inside my head I was a different person. Sir Reuban came into my office around eleven, unannounced. I had told my secretary first thing that morning that from now on my star mechanic would have free access to me and that when he came in we were not to be disturbed. He shut the door. I got on my knees. "Good bitch, Boy." He pulled out the object of my worship and I proceeded to suck him off. Having filled my mouth with his cum, he put his package back inside. "So, Boy, did you tell Louise?"

"Hell no, Sir."

"Don't you think she has a right to know, Boy?"

"Know what, Sir?"

"Know that the person she married, the father of her children, is not a man. Don't you think you owe her that information, Boy? Shouldn't she know her husband is now a man's bitch boy?"

"Why does she have to know, Sir?"

"Boy, you have a lot to learn. Have you forgotten last night already, Boy?"

"How could I forget that, Sir?"

"Do you remember when I fucked you in the sling, Boy?"

"I certainly do, Sir. It was the most awesome moment of my life."

"Why, Boy?"

"Because that's when I discovered I really was a bitch, Sir, your bitch. I am not equipped to be a man, but I do have what is needed to be your bitch, Sir."

"And knowing what you do do now, Boy, could you ever fuck your wife again, Boy?"

I hadn't thought about that. I tried to picture myself in the future in bed with Louise and trying to get an erection. I couldn't. "You're right, Sir. I doubt I'd ever be able to satisfy her."

"I doubt you ever could actually satisfy her, Boy. Not with your dinky dicky. Even when it got hard. But now you know as well as I do, Boy, it will never get hard except when you're geting fucked by a real man's cock."

"You're probably right, Sir."

"Come on, let's go, Boy."

"Go where, Sir?" I shouldn't have asked. It's not my place to question Sir Reuban. He opened the door and led the way out.

I quickly made up something for my secretary. "We're going to check out a man who has a '74 Buick for sale. We'll probably be gone the rest of the day." Sir Reuban was already sitting in my car when I got outside.

"OK, drive, Boy."

"Drive where, Sir?"

"Home, of course, Boy. Your home. We're going to talk to Louise."

Oh shit. I could refuse, but then I would lose my new Master. Boy Reginald was right: "Try to make Sir Reuban happy so he keeps you." But if I obey Sir Reuban, I will definitely lose my Louise. On the oher hand, eventually I will lose her anyway when she discovers I am impotent in bed. I took a deep breath and drove toward home. It's a wonder I kept the car on the road, I was shaking so much.

"Buel, Dear, why are you home in the middle of the day? My God, you brought Reuban with you. Hello, Reuban. Buel, I wish you had told me. I'm not dressed for visitors." She was wearing a housedress and slippers.

"Louise, I didn't tell you about last night, but Reuban and I, we, uh, we really hit it off last night."

"Yes, I'm so happy for both of you."

"So he may be spending a lot more time hee from now on."

"Well, that's fine."

Reuban interrupted. "Shit, let's quit beating around the bush. Boy, sit down over there." He pointed to a chair. I sat.

She giggled. "Did he just call you Boy?" As if I wasn't emasculated enough.

"Yes, Louise, Buel is my Boy now. Come here." He grabbed Louise's arm and pushed her to the sofa. He sat down on it facing me and pulled Louise on to his lap also facing me.

"Reuban, please. You're hurting me."

"Shut up, and listen."

"I don't understand. Why are you... Hey, what are you doing?" Sir Reuban had lifted up Louise's dress, exposing her panties and now his fingers were crawling into her cunny. "Buel, make him stop." I sat there weeping. I couldn't move.

"You see that Louise, Boy Buel ain't gonna come to your rescue. Ain't a damn thing he can do. 'Cept watch that is. Look at how he's watching a real man handle his wife. You're MY bitch now, Louise."

"Buel, why are you letting him call me that? Why are you letting him do this to me. Oh, God, look at where his fingers are now!" I could see clearly, those long black fingers were inside her vulva. His other hand was squeezing her breasts.

He started whispering into her ear, loud eough for me to hear. "You like this, don't you, Louise?" She shook her head. "Oh, yes, you do. You like the way a real man handles his bitch. You like being my bitch, don't you, Louise?" She stopped shaking her head no. "Buel likes being my bitch, don't you, Boy?"

"Yes, Sir." I mumbled.

"What was that, Boy? Louise didn't hear you."

I said it loud and clear. "Sir Reuban, I like being your bitch, Sir." Louise's jaw dropped.

"And you like being my bitch, too, Louise. Admit it."

"No," she said weakly.

"Your cum says otherwise, Girl." He pulled out his fingers to show me. They were dripping with Louise's vaginal juices. I shuddered. "Has Buel's boy dick ever given you an orgasm, Louise?" She shook her head again. No. "That's because he's not a real man, Louise. But now you do have a real man in your life, Louise. Do you want to be my bitch, Louise?"

"Yes, oh, God, yes."

"Boy, do you want your wife to be my bitch?"

"Yes, Sir. We will both be your bitches."

Reuban lifted Louise's dress up and she helped him get it up over her head and threw it to the floor. She kicked off her slippers. He undid her bra hooks in back and she pulled it off. With his strong large hands, Sir Reuban lifted my wife up off his lap and she tried to wiggle out of her panties, but they got caught on her knees. I got up, walked over and helped her take her panties off. She looked at me condescendingly. Sir Reuban lifted my wife up in the air so I could reach in and undo his belt and fly. I stood his erect cock up as he brought my wife back down on it. It went right into her wet pussy. It was so beautiful, a cock as black as midnight inside a pussy as white as cream. I sat at my Master's feet as he claimed my wife as his bitch. When he came inside her, she screamed. She had climaxed also. For the first time in her life. I was so happy. When they finished, they kissed each other as I licked them both off.

It was now almost three in the afternoon. Louise slipped her clothes back on and was sitting next to Sir on the couch, wrapped into his big strong arm, and I was still on the floor at their feet, when Lou came home from school.

"Daddy, what's going on?"

"This is Reuban." Sir coughed. "Well actually, we call him Sir Reuban. He's going to be spending a lot of time here with your mother and me in the future."

"And with you also, my pretty Darling," Sir said. My daughter turned red but smiled. She liked the compliment.

"How old are you, my lovely Lou?"

"Sixteen."

"Oh. you're plenty old enough then."

She didn't know what was in store for her. But I knew. I thought about her two little brothers.

"You see, Lou," said Louise, still wrapped in Sir's arm on the sofa. "We're going to be one happy biracial family. You'll see. You're really going to like having Sir Reuban around. I do."

I spoke up. "And we're all going to be learning what it means to be white. What it means to be black. You'd be surprised how much I learned in the last twentyfour hours."

Sir said, "Come here, My sweet Lou. Come sit on the other side of Sir Reuban so I can put my other arm around you and we can learn about each other."

.oOo.

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