Chapter 2

In the morning I get up early to prepare breakfast for my master and to get ready in the best possible way... Jamal always wants to see me perfectly made up, shaved and perfumed on every occasion.

After shaving and putting on my makeup, I put on my sexy waitress uniform.

When I hear him get out of bed, I wait for him, kneeling as usual in front of the bathroom door. He comes out of the bedroom still sleepy, wearing only a thong that barely manages to contain his usual morning erection. His hair is still messy; he stretches and passes me.

Good morning, Master. I hope you slept well last night.

Without deigning to look at me, he enters the bathroom and heads towards the toilet.

As usual, I follow him on all fours. When he stops in front of the toilet, I gently pull down his boxers, take his penis in my hand, lift it slightly, and direct it toward the center of the bowl. A few seconds later, a seemingly endless stream of urine begins. When he's finished, I gently collect the last drops from his slit with my tongue.

This morning his urine tastes salty and slightly acrid. Once clean and dry, I put his boxers back on. The Master looks down on me from his imposing height, as if he were a puppy, and with a sadistic smile asks:

"Do you like the taste of my pee, slut?"

With bowed head I reply:

“Yes, Master. I like it very much.”

“Good. Then wait here.”

Without saying a word, he goes to the kitchen and returns shortly after with a ladle in his hand. He dips it in the toilet, fills it to the brim with pee, water, and who knows what else, and says to me:

“Open your fucking mouth and drink it all, bitch. Don't waste a drop.”

He begins emptying the contents of the ladle directly into my open mouth. It tastes horrible, like sewer, but I try to swallow it all. Finally, I run my tongue over my lips to catch the last drops as he looks at me and laughs.

"You're such a human toilet... What do you say, sissy?"

“Thank you, Master… thank you.”

Then the Master orders me to raise my head and look him in the eyes.

He says:

"Lucy, I want to remind you that I'm not forcing you to be my slave or to accept all these humiliations. You can leave whenever you want, but you accept all this of your own free will. I want to hear you beg to continue being my slave-whore."

I'm now psychologically and physically addicted to this new life as a slave. I'm addicted to black cock; I'm like a drug addict. My drug is big black cocks, and I can't do without them anymore. I love being brutally fucked, raped in the ass and mouth by angry, violent black men, and treated like an object or a slut in heat.

While I'm still on all fours at his feet, I raise my head, look him in the eye and say:

"Please, master, I beg you, let me remain your slave, your doormat, and your personal toilet. Let me serve you and honor you in every way possible. I want to be your humble servant until you tire of me."

The Master, visibly satisfied, says:

“Okay, little whore. For now, I'll let you serve me until I get tired of looking at your ugly face. But remember, from now on, things are only going to get worse for you. I want to test you: new humiliations, new punishments. My friends and I are going to have a lot of fun with you. Now clean up and bring me breakfast. I'm in a hurry this morning.”

After the Master finishes breakfast, I'm in the kitchen washing dishes when I hear him call me. I rush to his feet to hear his wishes.

Then he gives me a hard slap on the butt before saying:

"My friends are coming over tonight to play cards, and I want you to look like the slut you are. Make sure you wear your hottest, kinkiest waitress outfit."

I keep my gaze down in shame as I turn to him and say,

“Yes, sir. I will be happy to carry out your orders. I look forward to serving you and your guests.”

After working all day to clean the house impeccably—floors, kitchen, bathroom, mirrors, and windows—I prepare sandwiches, appetizers, and snacks. In the afternoon, I also go grocery shopping, buying several packs of cigarettes, a box of cigars, and various alcoholic beverages—beer, whiskey, and vodka—to offer the Master's guests. Then I have to think about what to wear to look as provocative as possible.

The house is spotless. The beer is cold. All the snacks are ready.

And me? I look like the submissive whore I've been ordered to be. I'm wearing a black French maid outfit with a short skirt and ruffled sleeves. The dress is trimmed with white lace and has a white apron sewn into it. White lace stockings cover my smooth legs and balance me perfectly on a pair of six-inch black stilettos. I wear long white gloves that reach my elbows and a black and white bow with lace fringe on my head. I wear my ace of spades earrings to demonstrate my submission to the black cock, along with a black leather collar with the word "slave" in rhinestones on the front.

Around eight o'clock in the evening, I hear the doorbell ring.

“Bring my friends in, sissy. Let the party begin,” says the Master.

“Yes, sir.”

Before heading for the door, I stand in front of the mirror. Only then do I realize what I'm doing. I'm practically naked, dressed in women's clothes and wearing a dirty make-up, and I'm opening the door to a group of unknown black men.

Despite my anxiety and fear, a few drops of pre-cum leak out of the cage onto my small penis. I'm definitely aroused, like a nymphomaniac.

When I open the front door, I see four large, muscular men standing on the landing, smiling at me sinisterly. They all appear to be around Jamal's age, between thirty and forty, and all have the appearance of former military personnel. Two are completely bald, while the other two have shaved heads, military-style. Three of the men are black; the fourth is clearly Latino.

“Welcome, gentlemen. My name is Lucy, and I am Master Jamal's new effeminate slave. I am completely at your disposal for anything you need.”

They all pass me by with wry smiles and laughter, as if I were a small blemish on their shoes. The men greet Jamal warmly, laughing and joking about how long it's been since they last played cards. The way they emphasize the word "cards" makes me think they don't play much poker.

The men sit at the table and start playing cards, smoking cigars, and drinking beer and whiskey, while I take care of serving them. It's strange how easy it is for me to say "the men" when I talk about alpha males like these, as if I'd completely forgotten that I, too, am a man. Instead, I'm living the life I've always dreamed of: the life of an obedient and submissive sissy.

Real men laugh and joke, occasionally patting me on the ass. They make vulgar comments about me and exchange money playing poker. They drink heavily and smoke joints that I roll for them.

I know it's going to be a difficult evening for me, because the men become very intrusive, groping me and slapping my butt while I serve them drinks.

Shortly after, Quinn gets up from the table and says:

"I have to pee. What little sissy wants to hold a real man's cock?"

I am amazed at myself when I raise my hand and say:

"I would be delighted to hold your mighty penis in my hand, sir."

All the men burst out laughing. Quinn says:

"Okay, follow me to the bathroom, Lucy. So you can experience what it feels like to hold a real cock in your hand while it pee. I'm sure you've never had this experience, since you sit down like a woman to pee, like a sissy."

The men laugh again as I follow them to the bathroom, my face burning with shame.

Quinn lifts the toilet seat and then tells me to kneel beside him.

"Take your dick out, bitch."

I carefully unzip his zipper and pull out his huge black cock. I'm always amazed by the contrast between these real men and me. I can't imagine walking around with such a monster in my underwear.

"You better aim carefully, sissy, because you're going to have to lick up every single squirt."

says the cruel man laughing.

Carefully, I direct his enormous cock toward the water just in time, as a torrent of hot urine splashes out and hits the center of the bowl. I can feel the force of the man's powerful stream and wonder what it must feel like. Little girls like me sit down to pee.

Quinn sighs deeply as she empties her bladder, and to my dismay, I feel her penis begin to harden in my hand. When I first grasped that monster, it was about six inches long flaccid, but I could tell it would become enormous once it reached its full potential.

As I stare at his swelling penis, Quinn takes the opportunity to further humiliate me by shifting slightly. His powerful stream changes direction, and urine splashes onto the rim of the toilet, making the portly man laugh.

"Oops. Looks like you got some extra cleaning to do, white boy."

I bow my head and say:

“Yes, sir.”

Quinn states:

"Damn, I wish my ancestors could see this. A little white boy on his knees, dressed like a girl, holding my dick while I piss. And then watching him lick the drips off the toilet? There's nothing better than watching a little white boy sink that low."

Quinn spits out the last drops of urine and tells me to lick the last drop from the tip of his penis. I quickly flatten my tongue and wipe the pee from his slit before bending over to clean the rim of the toilet. The black man laughs at me, and the sight of a former white man licking a dirty toilet is more than enough to bring his penis back to life.

He smiles at me and says:

"Now take the head of my cock between your lips and hold it there, sissy."

I do as I'm told, spreading my lips to accommodate that monstrous cock. I was right: it's grown considerably and now sticks straight out of her groin a good ten or eight inches.

The cruel man says:

“Now crawl back on all fours and take me back to the card table. And don't you dare let go of my cock.”

Humiliation weighs on me as I begin the long journey back to the poker game. I crawl backward, feeling every inch with my feet as I concentrate on taking another man's penis in my mouth. It must be quite a turn-on for the black man, as his precum continues to flow copiously, forcing me to swallow repeatedly to keep up.

The long journey seems to last an eternity despite its short duration, as I struggle to keep Quinn's thick, velvety tip between my lips. I have to be careful not to scratch the soft flesh with my teeth for fear of being punished.

As soon as we enter the other room, everyone bursts into laughter at the new game Quinn has taught the effeminate white boy.

Quinn stands before me with her legs spread and her fists on her hips. I'm still on all fours with her big head in my mouth. She looks at me with satisfaction, enjoying her total dominance over me, and says:

"Now you can let go of my cock, slut, and get back under the table and give me blowjobs."

Amid the laughter of the others, I slip under the tablecloth and wait for someone who wants to suck their cock.

At the end of the night, everyone leaves. Master needs to shower before going out with his friends again. I wait until he's finished. I immediately get ready with the towels, knock on the bathroom door, enter, and kneel with my arms outstretched, offering the towels to Master.

Completely naked and soaking wet, he combs his hair in front of the mirror. The bathroom is almost flooded. With his usual contemptuous smile, he looks at me and says:

"Since I have a cleaning slave in my employ, I haven't been very careful, Lucy. You've got extra work to do tonight. And as I've already explained, I can't stand the smell of cleaning chemicals, so you'll just have to use your tongue and elbow grease."

“Yes, Master. I will be happy to carry out your orders.”

“Good. Now, the towels.”

I begin to gently rub the soft terrycloth towel over his statuesque, muscular body: his shoulders, his arms, his powerful pectorals, and his rock-hard abs. As I caress him, I tremble with excitement. I delicately dry his thick, veiny penis, then move on to his firm ass, his legs, his muscular thighs, and finally his feet.

When he's completely dry, I take his clean boxers and help him put them on. I slowly pull them up. Then, while I'm kneeling, he lifts my head with one hand.

Pointing to his penis, he says, "Do you want to say hello before I put it in your pants?"

“Yes, sir, please. May I kiss him?”

“You can only kiss the testicles.”

I gently press my lips against his enormous testicles and kiss them as if they were a relic.

“Thank you, Master.”

"Okay, now get to work and clean everything up perfectly. When you're done, come into the living room. I have some important things to explain to you."

“Yes, sir. At your service.”

It takes me almost an hour to dry and clean the bathroom as Master Jamal wants. Cleaning the inside of the toilet with my tongue is very difficult. Even though my tongue is swollen and painful, I finally manage it. I hope he's satisfied.

I wash myself and kneel at the foot of the chair where the Maestro is watching the match.

“You were planning on going home tomorrow. But I have other plans for you. You'll be at my service all next week.”

“But, sir, I can't. I have to get back to work. They're expecting me at the office on Monday…”

“I don't care. I've already made up my mind. You have no say in the matter; you can only follow my orders. Make up an excuse. Call to say you're sick, ask for vacation, do whatever the hell you want.

"Otherwise, I'll send you some nice photos to the office of you dressed as a sissy, sucking two or three black cocks with a happy expression on your face."

He shows me several photos on his phone. I almost cry. He's trapped me, and I have no choice.

“Don't worry. I've already planned a whole week of activities for you. You're going to have a blast, little slut. Now stop whining and lick my balls.”

Resigned to my fate, I begin massaging his big black balls with long strokes of my tongue, just the way Master likes it. Then I help him get dressed. It looks like he's planning a night out with his friends at a bar and a nightclub.

Before leaving, he says:

“I don't know what time I'll be home tonight, Lucy. But you have to stay awake and wait for me in case I need anything. Understand, little slut? While I have fun with my friends, using your money, you can give the whole apartment a thorough cleaning. I want to see the floors sparkling and the bathroom sparkling.”

“Yes, Master. I will do my best to fulfill your wishes.”

I work hard all evening, washing the floors, dusting, cleaning the windows and changing all the sheets on the master's bed.

It's almost three in the morning.

I'm anxious. I don't know whether to keep waiting for the Master to return or go to sleep. I'm completely exhausted. It's been a truly exhausting day.

I gather all my courage and send a message to the Master:

“Sir, could you kindly tell me what time you will be home and if I should prepare something to eat?” SEND.

A few minutes later, I receive the Master's reply. He seems decidedly angry:

"Sissy, it's none of your business, SLUT! I told you I'd be there when I got there. But I'm in a good mood, so I'll let you know. I'm leaving the bar now. I'll be there in fifteen minutes. Get ready and wait for me sitting on your slutty chair."

I swallow hard and quickly apply lube to the dildo on my sissy chair. Then I squat over it, positioning my wet hole directly above it, and slowly lower myself, reveling in the dual sensations of pain and pleasure as my sphincter is stretched and my rectum is filled with a rubber cock. I moan as I feel the last inch slide inside me.

About ten minutes later, I hear the roar of the owner's car. Anxiety grips me. I'm nervous and worried, hoping he's in a good mood. The door opens and he comes in, staggering slightly and visibly drunk. Without even looking at me, he says:

“Follow me into the living room, bitch. Move.”

I quickly get up from my chair and follow him on all fours like a puppy. He slumps heavily into the chair and says:

"Take off my shoes, sissy, and give me a nice foot massage. I've been dancing so much tonight, and my feet are swollen."

As I take off his shoes and socks, which are quite damp with sweat, he looks at me and says:

“Put my socks in your mouth, slut, and keep them there until I tell you to take them off.”

They stink and are soaked in sweat. I feel nauseous, barely able to hold back the vomit.

As I massage his feet, I notice he's carrying a large box of chocolates, tied with a pink ribbon and bow.

"You know, little sister, my friends had a great time at the poker game and decided to send you this little gift. Here, open it."

I'm a little perplexed, but also happy. If his friends send me a gift, it means they're satisfied with my "services." I take the box and open it with joy, like a child. Who knows what's inside?

I slowly lift the lid. Inside, there aren't chocolates, as I'd hoped, but four condoms filled with a whitish liquid whose nature leaves no doubt.

The condoms are all tied so that the contents cannot leak. Each one is marked with the donor's name in blue marker: Quinn, Tommy, Ahmed, and Ali.

I hear the Master laughing.

"You should see your face now. I've never had this much fun. Damn, I promised my friends a video of you enjoying these four little gifts."

"Come on, Lucy. Which one do you want to start with?"

I look at the names written on the condoms and choose to start with Quinn's. I take it in my hand and begin to untie the knot. Just as I'm about to empty it into my mouth, Master says:

“Wait, bitch. I have to get my phone for the video. Okay, I'm ready. Look at the phone while you empty them. But don't swallow, you have to keep all four of them down your throat and play with them a little.”

After emptying all four condoms, my mouth is full of cum. The Master comes over with his phone for a close-up.

“Okay, Sally. Play with your tongue a little, then swallow it all like a good little girl.”

I do as ordered and swallow that cocktail offered by the black boys.

“Good girl, little girl. Now look at your phone and thank my friends for the gift.”

Licking my lips, I put on a happy and grateful expression.

“Thank you, gentlemen, for this delightful gift. You are truly too kind to this useless little girl. Thanks again.”

Monday. Resigned, I sent an email to my company that night saying that an aunt who lived in another city needed my care and that I needed a week's vacation.

I wake up early, even though I haven't been able to sleep for more than a couple of hours due to the excitement and anxiety at the thought of what awaits me during a whole week as a sissy slave. I'm terrified, but deep down, I'm also terribly excited. My true nature as a submissive cocksucking slut is emerging.

I'm in the bathroom, shaving from head to toe. I put on my makeup the way Master likes it: lipstick, lip gloss, blush, black eyeliner, and so on. I'm wearing my sissy uniform: white apron, hat, and pink collar. Fishnet stockings with garters, and the ever-present black patent leather shoes with five-inch heels.

Then I go to the kitchen to make him breakfast. Trying not to make any noise with my heels, I tiptoe around so as not to wake him too early. The last thing I want is for him to wake up in a bad mood.

After breakfast, the Master explains to me what my day will be like.

Chapter Two

“Lucy… Maybe you should save some of that blush for the next surprise I have in store for you. You’re in for a really fun day, my sexy little slut.”

I swallow hard, shivering at his words. He abruptly pulls me up from the sissy chair and quickly shoves a large plug into my ass. Then he leaves the room and heads for the bedrooms.

I jump when I hear another car pull into the driveway and its engine stall. Who could it be now? Did the Master intend to share me with other black friends?

“When the doorbell rings, go answer it, little girl. I'll be there in a minute or two.”

My heart races when I hear a car door slam. I hear footsteps coming up the driveway and then onto the porch. The doorbell rings.

Damn. I can't help but respond without risking my Master's wrath. My effeminate maid's skirt barely covers my cock locked in the chastity cage, and it barely covers my ass either. The same goes for the butt plug.

I head for the door, breathing heavily and wondering in terror who it could be. I quickly open the door.

I almost faint at the sight of the woman on the doorstep: my ex-wife.

I speak before I think.

“Laura! What are you doing here?”

“Daniel! Is that really you? What the hell are you doing dressed like that? Is this some kind of childish masquerade or a tasteless prank?”

He pushes me into the house, and I start to panic. I can't allow my ex-wife and the Master to meet. He immediately notices my sissy chair.

“Jesus Christ, Daniel. I don’t need to know what you do with your perverted girlfriends. Why did you invite me here if you have a girlfriend? Huh?”

“I didn't invite you. You're wrong. Listen, I'm a little… busy right now. Could you come back another time?”

I lower my voice, hoping that Black Master is in the bathroom or somewhere else and can't hear us.

But from the back of the room, the Master's voice says:

"There's no mistake. I sent an email to your wife inviting her to come over tonight. Or rather, I sent it from your email account."

My heart and mind tighten as I hear the Master speak. I realize that my ex-wife is about to discover my secret, that she's about to learn that her ex-husband is an effeminate transvestite with a giant black thug as his master and lover.

My wife and I both turn toward the voice. I flinch slightly at the sight of the Black Master. He's wearing baggy jeans and a white tank top that shows off his powerful muscles. He looks like some kind of African god. A faint, mocking smile plays across his face, and it's clear he's already enjoying the situation, a situation he's meticulously planned.

“Well, good morning, Mrs. Laura. I'm really pleased to finally meet you.”

Laura, perplexed, asks me:

“Daniel, are you going to explain to me what’s going on now? Are you going to introduce me to your… friend here?”

A slight shiver runs through me at the venomous voice in which my wife says the word "friend." I have the feeling that in a few minutes nothing will be the same again.

“Yes, Lucy. Why don’t you introduce me to your wife? You can do that, right?”

My wife says:

“Lucy? Is your name Lucy now? What the fuck have you become, a faggot?”

I feel my legs shaking and the world collapsing around me. I don't even know the Master's real name. How could I introduce him to him? Our eyes meet.

I begin to stammer, unsure of how to proceed.

“Um, Laura. This is… the Black Master…”

I speak the words softly, muttering, hoping no one will hear me.

“Speak up, Daniel, or whatever the hell your name is now. I don’t understand you!”

My wife is a direct woman.

“He is mhy Black Master…”

I don't know what else hto say. I cann't find another way to explain it.

My wife looks puzzled.

“black master? Master? What the hell are you talking about?”

The Black Master smiles and answers her frankly and directly:

"Black Mistress is the only name I'll allow your ex-husband to call me. It's more than enough, and most importantly, I like it. And in reality, he's no longer your husband. Your man's name is no longer Daniel, but Lucy, because I decided so. He dresses like an effeminate slut. And do you know why? Because I say so. I control every aspect of his life, and he has given me that right with enthusiasm, just as he gave himself to me."

He lets the sentence trail off, and I see a glimmer of understanding in Laura's eyes as she begins to realize what I've become. I keep my gaze down; I can't look her in the face.

With a snap of his fingers, the Black Master draws me closer. He reaches out and lifts the gathered hem of my miniskirt, revealing my cage.

"See how I keep your boy chaste? That little white cock will never get hard unless I let it."

“Turn around, Lucy.”

I obey and feel him lift the hem of my skirt again, this time exposing my pale buttocks with my more feminine pink butt plug inserted into my hole.

"See what I make him wear all day?"

I feel a slap on my buttocks as the Maestro performs.

“See how ready he is to obey me? Just like a prison bitch. He, or should I say she, offered himself so sweetly, like sugar. He couldn't wait for his Black Master to enter his little ass. Heh, heh…”

I look up and see the disbelief on Laura's face. It's not every day a wife discovers that her straight husband has turned into an effeminate bootlicker, eager to sexually please black men. All things considered, it could be worse.

My ex-wife, still in shock over the situation, tries to say something:

“You… you can't do that, sir. Daniel is still my husband…”

The Master interrupts her and explains the new reality to her.

"Look around you. Daniel may be the legal owner of this house, but it really belongs to me now, you understand? Because he gave it to me, and don't think for a moment he didn't want that."

"Now your ex-husband cooks me dinner, washes my clothes, and pays for everything I own. He's constantly buying me expensive gifts. I kicked that bitch out a few weeks ago, and the next day I found her at my door begging me to take her back."

Now she's starring in online porn movies where groups of well-hung black men fuck her, making me a nice chunk of money. She's become an excellent cocksucker. She sucks cock, mine and all my friends'. Your 'boyfriend' here greedily swallows gallons of cum. Heh, heh. She swallows so well. What a good girl...

"And that ass? What a sweet, sweet asshole your 'man' has. You should see her kick like a mare in heat when I give it to her. I must have impregnated that filthy hole at least three hundred times by now."

"Yes, Daniel, or rather Lucy, wants it. If she didn't want it, I'd find another slut, but Lucy has been so obedient. She endures everything without ever complaining. A true delight for a Black Master."

"And I think that once she's spent every last cent in her bank account satisfying my every whim, I'll send her out to prostitute herself on the streets like a real whore. And she'll do it without a word, just to please me, won't she, Lucy?"

The Master stares at me as he finishes speaking. I'm red as a pepper, with tears streaming down my face.

"Yes, Master. Your every wish is my command."

After patting me on the butt, he bursts into a roar of laughter.

I've never felt so humiliated in my life, yet I can't deny his assertion that I wouldn't have resisted. Not really, at least. If I'd truly wanted to free myself from that situation, I'm sure I could have done it, perhaps not without some personal embarrassment, but nothing insurmountable.

But the truth was... I didn't want to break free. I was falling madly in love with the Master. I adored everything about him, every inch of his sculpted body and his dominant masculinity.

At that point, my wife looks at me with contempt and says:

"If what you want is to suck black cocks and be their slave, then have fun, little slut."

"Goodbye, Daniel... or rather, goodbye, Lucy."

Then he leaves, slamming the door.