Justin on his knees!

As your eyes followed Trent's gaze and your stomach dropped. You saw Justin, he was on his knees on the rough stone patio. His head was bobbing in the lap of a tall, lanky man, maybe a basketball player. His movements were practiced and fluid and if you were to trust Trent's words, it seems like he was learning his place...

You could trace the whole night back to this very spot. This was the scene that had sent you running into the house, overwhelmed by the sheer power that Trent had over Justin. At the time, it was a foreign concept, even with Jamal's attempts to explain it to you, you just saw it, but you didn't get it.

Now, for some reason, you kind of did? After Jamal's confident touches, his low voice talking about your own 'potential,' and the graphic display Dior and Taylor had just given you... you looked at Justin, at the spit and maybe cum that was dripping from his chin, and in a way you understood. The expected revulsion wasn't there and the shock had been replaced by a strange, hollow curiosity? You weren't turned away by the scene at the pool anymore, and that was the most terrifying realization.

The doubt, which had been a faint hum before, began to roar in your ears. Was this really just what happened? Was the connection you thought you were building and already had with Jamal just a build up to the same setup Trent had with Justin? Were you just another project? Some sort of fucking conquest?

"Justin's a good example," Trent said, his eyes following the scene. "But your boy... he's different. Kind of softer and more genuine. I think when one of us finally cracks him, he'll break even prettier."

"Break?" The word slipped from your lips before you could stop it, a choked whisper. You hadn't meant to say it out loud, it just fell out.

But it seems like they hadn't heared you and before you could move, Trent was gesturing toward the pool again "God look at how good that whity services our brothers" he told Jamal.

You looked over too and see how Justin seemingly being finished with the guy he was servicing, had obediently shifted, his knees scraping on the stone as he crawled to another man. This new guy's cock wasn't as long as the one before, but it was thicker, impossibly thick, a dark, heavy club of flesh. But Justin didn't hesitate. He leaned in and stretched his lips to their limit to accommodate it. It seemed like it was a struggle, a painful stretch that even made your own jaw ache.

You stood there, hidden by the crowd, watching in horrified fascinatio and you saw everything. You saw the way the men talked down to him, called him a "white boy" and a "cocksucker" and the way Justin just... took it.

You saw the two men finally finish all over his face, painting him with their cum, thick and hot. You couldn't believe your eyes how much of it they shot, though after Jamal talked about it and even showed you how virile black men were, you should have expected it.

Trent then walked over, phone in hand taking pictures and to your shock, you could heard Justin thank them for their "superior Black seed." Finally, you saw Sarah rush over to seemingly reward him with a kiss, her tongue licking the cum from his lips and catching it between their mouths.

It looked like a masterclass, a demonstration of the ideology Jamal had been so proudly talking about with Trent. This was what they meant, the "natural order," that they were talking about. It wasn't just supposed to be a thing that happened in private rooms. It was supposed to be a public display, a kind of statement. And you had a front-row seat to what you perceived they wanted your own future to be...

Jamal watched the entire scene, cupping his own bulge, a slow, predatory smile spreading across his face. He was enjoying it and he looked proud of this display of humiliation and submission. Then he turned back to Trent, his eyes dark with intent.

"See? That's how it's done," Trent said, "thats how those whites should be treated and dealt with," clinking his bottle against Jamal's. "To the conquest."

"To the conquest," Jamal repeated drinking from his bottle, his gaze sweeping across the party, and for a terrifying, heart-stopping second, his eyes landed right on you.

He saw you. He saw you standing there, pale and trembling, having seemingly just witnessed everything. He saw that you had probably heard him. And his smile didn't falter, it just got wider, more confident. He gave you a slow, deliberate and flirtatious wink, as if to say, See? This is your future. And you're going to love it. And terrifyingly, for some reason, it turned you on so, so much...

He then pushed off the bar and started walking towards you, his stride confident and purposeful. You weren't sure how you should react to any of this, but for now you thought 'maybe you should just ignore it, enjoy the rest of the party and leave the thinking for tomorrow'

You decided that thats what your going to do, and shut of your brain.