Abigail and Emile!

Abigail lead you trough what feels like hallway after hallway of the mansion, as if she knew every room by heart. You again walk past several doors that you now know lead to nicely decorated bedrooms. To your surprise, some of the doors that were previously open are now closed and you can clearly hear sounds coming out of them.

But you can investigate further, since Abigail quickly continues walking until the two of you finally reach the room she was looking for.

The cool, air-conditioned air of the mansion’s main bathroom was a welcome shock after the humid heat of the patio. The room itself was vast, all marble and gold fixtures, with a shower stall large enough to seemingly fit six people. Abigail didn’t hesitate, kicking off her heels and letting the door swing shut behind the two of you, the sudden quiet amplifying the sound of her laughter.

“Much better,” she sighed, her voice echoing slightly. “I swear, I was about to melt out there. Now,” she turned to you, her eyes sparkling with mischief, “let’s get a proper look at this swimsuit.”

You stood awkwardly near the door, the buzz from the drinks making the room tilt slightly. You felt a blush creeping up your pale neck. “Uh, it’s just a suit.”

“Oh, honey, nothing is just a suit on a body like yours,” Abigail purred, her gaze dropping pointedly to your hips and thighs. Before you could process the compliment, she reached behind her neck, untying the halter of her summer dress. The sheer fabric cascaded down her body, pooling at her feet, revealing her breast and leaving her standing in only a tiny, black lace thong.

Your breath hitched. You'd obviously seen nacked wemen before, in porn for example, but this was real, and kind of overwhelming. Her body was a vision of soft, generous curves. Large, round breasts sat high on her chest, she has pierced nipples, and her hips flared out into a full, heart-shaped ass that strained against the thin string of her thong. Her skin was pale and flawless, a stark canvas for the intricate black ink that adorned it.

You couldn’t help but stare, her body was painted with a lot of ink. You already knew the black spade tattoo one on her right arm, that all the other white people in the BSA have and the one on her left thigh that said "PROPERTY OF D". You couldn't make it out when you saw her in the mall but surrounding the nipple on her right brest is a ring of what you understand to be sperm, every swimmer is drawn in thick black ink. You don't know what it means, but for some reason it turns you on.

There, on the swell of her left hip, was a large, spade tattoo, the “Q” in the center stylized to look like a crown. Below it, in elegant cursive, the words “Black Owned” were permanently etched into her skin. As she turned to grab a swimsuit from her bag, you saw more. Trailing down her spine were the words “Property of Darnell,” and on the small of her back, just above her ass, was another spade symbol and the text “BBC Only”. There was another one on right her left butt cheek, in thick black lettering it said "BREED ME!" it was surrounded by the spade symbol, that was already all over her body.

She sees you looking at her, and a slow, satisfied smile spread across her lips. “Like what you see, Emile?” she asked, her voice a low, teasing hum. She hooked her thumbs into the sides of her thong and slowly, torturously, slid it down her legs.

She turned slightly, giving you a full view of her backside, and that’s when you saw it. Nestled between the perfect, pale round cheeks of her ass was the flared base of a large, black butt plug. It was nestled deep inside her, holding her open in a way that was both shocking and undeniably erotic. She caught you staring at it and let out a soft, wicked laugh. Reaching back, she gripped the base with a confident ease and slowly, tantalizingly, pulled it out.

Your eyes went wide. The thing was massive, a thick, ridged cone of black silicone that widened to a size almost as big as your fist before tapering to a more narrow neck. As she pulled it free, her hole didn’t close immediately. It gaped, a dark, open void that pulsed slightly, a clear testament to its constant, rigorous use.

She held the plug up, examining it almost clinically before looking back at him. “This is what keeps me ready for Darnell,” she explained, her voice a low purr. “And even with this out... honey, look at this.” She gestured to her still-gaping hole. “Your tiny little white dick wouldn’t even feel the sides. It would be like throwing a hot dog down a hallway. You wouldn’t feel a thing, and I sure as hell wouldn’t fucking either. A white man, especially like you, isn’t worth this body, not in any way.”

She turned toward you again and that’s when you saw something else strange. Nestled between her smooth, pale thighs was a small, silver metal cage. It was delicate, almost dainty, locked around a tiny, shriveled-looking appendage that was barely visible behind the silver bars. Above it was another black tattoo that says "Locked" in delicate letters and below it almost reaching the root was a small spade. It was the first time you've ever seen anything like it, and your drunken brain struggled to make sense of it.

Abigail noticed your confusion and let out a soft, knowing laugh. “Curious?” she asked, stepping closer to you, completely naked and obviously unashamed. She was close enough now that you could smell her perfume, a sweet, floral scent that mixed with something kind of uniquely her.

“This,” she said, tapping a single, black manicured nail against the metal of her cage, “is my little reminder. Darnell put me in it even before I started my transition, and I’ve never really needed or wanted it off since. Over the time we went trough several sizes and models, until we reached this extra tiny one.” She looked down at it with a kind of fond reverence. “See, a white thing like this... it’s honestly not really a cock. If we are being realistic, it never really was. It’s just useless flesh that gets in the way of what I really exist for. So it’s locked away, exactly where it belongs. It keeps me focused on what’s realy important.”

She leaned in closer, her voice dropping to a conspiratorial whisper. “Lots of white boys wear them now, especially the ones who know their place. When you’re lucky enough to be with a real man, a black man... you realize there’s no comparison. Why would you need a tiny little white dick when you can have a big, black one that actually knows how to please a woman? It’s just... inferior biology. It’s honestly better for everyone if it’s locked up.”

Her words were a jumble to your foggy mind, but the sheer confidence and sexuality radiating from her were undeniable. Your own body was responding, a familiar heat pooling in your groin. Your small cock, which had been stirring earlier, was now fully hard and slightly straining against the tight fabric of your swim trunks.

Abigail’s eyes flicked down to your crotch, and her smile widened. “Oh, someone’s excited,” she cooed. She closed the remaining distance between the two of you, her soft, curvy body pressing against yours. Her hand, warm and soft, came to rest on your chest before slowly sliding down your slightly stomach. “It’s okay, Emile. It’s natural to get turned on by a superior body. By the truth.”

Her fingers found the waistband of your trunks and dipped inside, wrapping around your hard length. You let out a sharp gasp, your hips bucking involuntarily. Her hand felt incredible, her touch practiced and sure.

“Mmm,” she hummed, stroking you slowly through the fabric. “Let’s get a better look, shall we?”

With her free hand, she tugged your swim trunks down over your hips. They fell to your ankles, and your small, hard cock sprang free, standing at its full, modest height.

Abigail looked at it, and a small, almost inaudible chuckle escaped her lips. She didn’t say a word, but her eyes told you everything. It was a look of amused pity, of gentle condescension. She’d seen way bigger. Hell, she’d even been bigger herself.

She wrapped her hand around you. Her fingers, long and slender, overlapped easily. With just one hand, she completely engulfed your shaft, her fingertips touching her palm. She began to stroke you again, her grip firm and torturously slow.

“You know,” she said conversationally, as if discussing the weather, “when I touch Darnell... it’s a completely different experience.” She held up her other hand, demonstrating. “I can wrap both my hands around his big black cock, like this,” she said, stacking one hand on top of the other, “and there’s still more than two inches and this big, thick head sticking out, begging for attention.” She looked from her hands back to your cock, which was completely hidden in her single-handed grip. “He’s got at least more than four times what you’ve got, sweetie. Four times.”

The comparison was mortifying and, to your horror, incredibly arousing. You felt your cock throb in her hand, leaking dribbles of pre-cum.

Abigail leaned in, her lips brushing against your ear. Her breath was warm and sent shivers down your spine. “You’re getting so turned on, aren’t you? Hearing about a real man’s cock. Feeling how small you are in my hand.” She gave your cock a firm squeeze, making him whimper. “It’s okay, in a way, that’s your purpose. To be reminded of your place and to be hard and eager for anything a superior person is willing to give you.”

You are panting now, lost in the sensation, your mind a haze of **** and lust. For some reason you wanted her to kiss you, so you leaned in, your eyes fluttering shut.

But she pulled back, a firm but gentle hand on your chest stopping you. “Ah-ah,” she whispered, a teasing smile on her lips. “No kisses on the mouth. That’s for Darnell. And a little thing like this...” She gave your cock another slow, dismissive stroke. “It’s far too small to deserve my mouth anyway. My mouth is for big, black cock, only.”

Her words were a final, devastating blow to your ego, but they only fueled the fire in your groin even more. You are completely at her mercy, being guided, taught, and seduced into a new understanding of yourself, one stroke at a time.

- - - - - -

I added some more tattoos and their description, since I felt like, she and Darnell would want her to have more.