The Dark Side

She lowered the hook enough that his feet were touching the floor but just barely. His legs were so wide apart that it wasn't at all the reprieve he was expecting. David felt relief in that second, however fleeting and minimal, and he was grateful for it. Next, Desiree' produced a device that looked like nothing David had ever seen before. It was an iron contraption that went around his throat and was locked in place with a padlock but it had some sort of cage that went around his head. His air was restricted and that damn thing was heavy and as uncomfortable as hell. The cuffs were digging into his flesh, surely going to leave physical evidence that would need to be hidden from his family, friends, and coworkers to avoid questions about how he got the marks.

"You get it, now, don't you? These are the actual devices used to break the spirit and bodies of real slaves. I went to great lengths to purchase them from an old plantation in Mississippi. The owner had the audacity to try to charge me $20,000 for all the artifacts." She went on, detailing the specifics of the transaction but David didn't hear anything. He felt burning, hot pain in his arms and legs and he was light-headed and faint. The rusty iron from the thing around his throat was suffocating him and he would have feared tetanus if taking a breath wasn't his first concern in that moment.

Without warning, she kicked him hard in the ballsack, jarring him back into full consciousness and making him yell out in pain. "Silly Dayo, I can't have you blacking out. My goodness, you've only been restrained 17 minutes. But, don't you just love the fact that a real person, an actual human being, one you would just as soon spit on for the color of their skin, was tortured by these EXACT devices. Doesn't that just turn you on? I know it turns me on." With that, she raised the hem of her dress and pulled her black, latex panties down and slid her fingers between her wet pussy lips. She was masturbating in front of David, quite feverishly in fact. He wanted to look away but he couldn't. He didn't want his cock to jerk and throb, but it did.

"Now, she said," tell me how slavery wasn't that bad. Tell me how my ancestors were lucky to be kidnapped from that ole heathen Africa. Come on, bitch. Tell me how the Irish had it worse than Africans who were enslaved."

David sobbed. He wanted to curse her out. He wanted to kill her, but all he could do was pray for relief. It was not to come. Mistress Desire produced a wooden switch and began whipping David all over his body, raising welts immediately. The sound of the switch slicing through the air sent terror through David. The pain on contact was excruciating. For her to be a psychological Domme, she certainly was using an extraordinary amount of physical pain to get her point across. David was not used to or expecting any of this. His demeanor had softened. He wasn't the obnoxious, arrogant prick he was when he walked in. He was simply trying to make the pain less and he was ready to say or do anything in order to make that happen.

"Please, let me down. Please." His voice was soft and meek, mainly because the iron contraption around his head was restricting his air.

"Let you down? Dear, sweet Dayo. Do you think slave masters let my ancestors down when they were in pain and begging for mercy? Is that what you think happened during slavery?" She caressed his body gently, across his nipples and down his stomach. "I don't guess you've ever really contemplated what slaves went through, have you? You've never considered what hell they had to endure, for more than . . . (glancing at the clock) 34 minutes, have you? All you've ever really thought about is how those dumb slaves got what they deserved, isn't it? All you've ever really thought about is how Blacks are stupid and inferior and they don't matter, isn't it? You've never thought about a mother having her child sold out from her arms, have you? You've never contemplated the pain of that. You've never thought about what it would be like to see your wife raped in front of you? Well, tonight, that's going to change."

Every single one of David's senses were heightened. The stench of his body odor choked him, his sweat smelled of pure fear and adrenaline. His tears tasted like seawater as they fell down his age-defined cheeks and onto his lips and viscous mucous hung from his nose like a disgusting ode to Jabba the Hut. More significantly, his cock protruded laughably. It was painfully hard and the head was wet with precum. He wished it wasn't hard. Intellectually, there was nothing arousing about being restrained, his arms aching to the point of numbness, his head and neck enclosed in an antique torture device that felt like it weighed every bit of 50 pounds at the moment, his legs forced apart and restrained, and having his naked body exposed to whippings from a bitch who obviously took some sort of perverse pleasure in seeing him in this predicament. On a much deeper level however, in the perverse recesses of his fucked up brain, the entire scene was as erotic as fuck. He didn't understand or make a conscious connection to the utter humiliation and his arousal but the evidence was there, all four and a half proud, hard inches, desperate for release.

This was, unquestionably, the most fucked up situation he had ever been in. He had no control over the circumstances, he couldn't pull any strings, literally and figuratively. He knew the safe word but the thought of using it never even crossed his mind. This was the stuff of erotic dreams come true.

His body was alive with electricity. His nipples were hard, sensitive, and every time Desiree even grazed them lightly with her fingertips, he whimpered uncontrollably and his body would convulse with waves of ecstasy. She did more than merely graze them, however, she focused on them. She pinched them until he cried out, pulled them until his body contorted. She twisted them like they were knobs on a transistor radio and she was trying to find the public owned radio station at the end of the dial. And in between all of that, she softly, sensually, rubbed them causing David to sob uncontrollably from the heightened pleasure he experienced in every cell of his body.

The entire time she was playing with his nipples, Desiree whispered in his ear. Her soft, sexy voice serenaded him, the warmth of her body dangerously close, her soft, full mounds of breast flesh pressed against his back. "Pleasure and pain are blurred to you now." As soon as the words left her mouth, she released the hook that suspended his arms above his head and he came crashing down. He crumpled to the floor, he head banging the iron bars rendering him nearly unconscious and his arms burning with pins and needles from the blood flow. His soul cried out, "Thank you, goddess," from a place of sincerity and pure gratitude but no words escaped his lips. He was disoriented. He didn't know how long he had been suspended but he was almost sure his time had to be up.

He was not to be so lucky. Producing a skeleton key, Desiree' unlocked the padlock on the thing surrounding his head. Being free from that thing was a sense of liberation like he'd never known before. She undid the handcuffs and the leg restraints as well and he curled up into the fetal position, ostensibly licking his emotional wounds.

David was not to have reprieve however. Extending her gloved hand to him, she led him to a stockade device. It appeared to be authentic as well. With a mere nod of her head, Desiree indicated that she wanted him to place his head and arms in the contraption. He bent over table before him and positioned himself with his head in the opening, followed by his arms, and awaited the suffocating lumber to be lowered down, securing him in place. Desiree' struggled. It was not at all light and it was cumbersome and heavy to move. Once slammed into place, another padlock was used to lock it in place.

"You know," she said, "that's real slavery. I removed all your restraints, you were free to run, to get away, but you stayed. I own you now. You're my bitch, Dayo. You belong to me." She was smiling, smug and arrogant almost but not in the same way as David usually was. It was contentment, satisfaction beamed from inside her.

David was not so pleased with himself. He rejected the notion that he had been broken so easily. He wanted to curse her out, he wanted to call her names and spit on her.

He didn't.

If one thing was evident, the stockade was designed so that David's ass and cock were exposed and easily accessible. David was helpless. His arms and head were secured in a stockade and he was bent over a table the left him vulnerable in ways only a man could comprehend. He heard movement behind him but rather than speaking up and asking what was going on, he remained silent. He wasn't in control and it wasn't a sensation that he was even used to.

Without warning, Mistress Desire shoved her gloved and now lubed fingers in his asshole. "Let's see what we are working with here." She twisted her hand and caused him to moan out loud. He wasn't quite sure what he was feeling, pleasure or pain. Everything was turned upside down and he tried his best to push back on her fingers, wanting her to hit his spot. She was in control and she abruptly pulled her fingers out, leaving him feeling empty in both the literal and figurative sense of the word.

The next sensation he felt was pain, intense, searing, blinding pain. The sound he made was distorted, like an animal trapped, willing to chew his own leg off for freedom.

"Such histrionics, Dayo! Be quiet! It's not like you haven't been fucked plenty of times before. It's not like I'm fucking you with a broken bottle, like my ancestors endured. It's not a hot branding iron, you know, like real slaves endured. It's a dildo. Granted," she mused, "it's wider than my forearm and I'm not going to stop until every inch of it is buried deep inside you but it could be much worse."

Everything she said was true. "If you mention what your fucking ancestors endured one more time," David murmured under his breath, half hoping she heard him, half hoping she wouldn't punish him for expressing such insolence. He knew not to finish his thoughts to test how far she could go. In that moment, he was fighting back tears and the mounting sensations of pleasure. That fake dick was hitting his spot. It was not unlike the very first time he got fucked when he felt searing hot pain only to be followed by a pleasure unlike anything he's ever known. If he had been able to turn his head, to see what he was being fucked with, he would have seen that it was only an 8-inch dildo, he'd taken much bigger, both real and fake. But he wasn't in control so it felt scarier. The more she stroked, the better it felt.

And boy was she stroking. Long, hard, steady, and deep. She was fucking him, increasing her pace, brutally increasing her force. The entire time, she wouldn't keep her fucking mouth shut. She kept going on and on and on, saying some shit about slavery, shit David had never even thought about once in his life. She fucked him. "Whites denied Blacks education for centuries, of course that is going to have long-term effects." She fucked him. "Only the most depraved, evil people could feel justified to own, sell, torture, and rape human beings like it meant nothing." She fucked him even harder still. "You're terrified that if the playing field were actually level that Blacks would revolt and enslave whites and that's why you want us to remain uneducated and poor." She gripped his hips and slammed her dildo balls deep in his ass without mercy and taunted him, "Who's superior now, bitch? Answer me! Who's superior now?"

Normally, Dave was the silent type during sex. All that panting and moaning and talking was for chicks in pornos. David had had sex where he didn't even exchange names with the person, let alone make a sound; he wouldn't even breathe heavy. Being restrained in that stockade, uncomfortable as hell, out of control, in pain, and in the throes of pleasure like he had never known before, David was crying, moaning, screaming and panting like a rabid dog. He wanted to say, "You are! You're superior, Goddess! You are." He couldn't form words so he grunted with each ferocious thrust he received. He'd been in sub-space before, that mental place when he was transformed to nothing more than a mass of sexual desire. This was a different place. He was terrified and pissed and ashamed and aroused. He was vulnerable and . . . enslaved. He couldn't move physically but more than loss of mobility, he was a prisoner to his perverted lusts and the sensations that were liberating and terrifying at the same time.

His brain misfired as his body betrayed him. He surrendered. He relaxed all his muscles but he gave up emotionally to the fact that he was being fucked senseless: psychologically and physically. Tears flowed down his cheeks. Desiree' owned him. He pulled vigorously against his restraints, desperate for release. In that instant of realization, he came. He erupted in pleasure as cum poured from his cock, as he orgasmed in every cell in his body.

David was revived from a temporary loss of consciousness. His limbs ached, his ass felt empty. He lay defeated and crumpled on the floor. As he opened his eyes, he saw Desiree' moving about the room, superficially straightening things and looking as fresh as a daisy. In shame, he scrambled to find his clothing and cover his nudity. Even dressed, he felt naked, exposed. His arrogance was gone. He didn't feel the need to put her in her place, to ridicule her, to demean her. He wanted nothing more than to lay in her arms and be comforted and nurtured. He wanted to nurse from her breast like a newborn in his African mother's arms. He wanted her approval and validation but he was not to get it.

"Time's up, Dayo. I don't have another opening for six months so be sure to make an appointment before you leave." Her confidence that he was going to see her again was not at all arrogant. David would pay triple her fee to be able to see her again and see her soon. In that moment he would have left his wife and family if Desiree would simply allow him to lay at the foot of her bed. His soul craved more degradation like only she could deliver.

As Desiree' opened the door, not at all subtly ushering him out, Rebecca Manetti strolled past her, like she had been there 100 times before but not before stopping to give Mistress Desire a kiss that rivaled any late-night, soft-core lesbian Cinetime porno ever made. In less than a few seconds time, what he thought was his lifeless genitalia, twitched to full, hard attention. He was embarrassed and ashamed that she had seen him but his overwhelming desire was to stay, to watch. Lowering his eyes to the ground, he slinked away but he knew that he would return again.