Mind Control: Turning the Tables

I was drunk. I showed up at her door, barely able to see straight. I knocked, and then knocked again. Dressed modestly, she answered the door. She had trouble looking me in the eye.

“Is it mine?” I managed to ask, only slurring my words slightly. She paused and her eyes welled up. Finally, she nodded.

“Can I come in?” I asked. She stepped aside and I walked into my old living room. As soon as she shut and locked the door, I grabbed her by the back of the neck and pulled her close. She resisted but didn’t cry out. Good girl.

“You have no idea if it’s mine,” I whispered to her, smothering her with the stench of ****. “You’re such a fucking liar.” I threw her to the ground. She started crying.

I ripped off her pajamas and her underwear, leaving only a tattered shred of her panties. I shoved my fingers in her mouth.

“Lube them up, hole,” I commanded her. Tears were already streaming down her face, but she started deepthroating my fingers obediently. I pulled them out of her mouth and shoved them deep into her pussy. She cried out, struggling against me, but I fucked her pregnant pussy with my hand relentlessly.

“Let me tell you what I want to do to you, slut,” I said. “Calm down.” I pulled my fingers out and bent her over my knee. “Calm down,” I said again, giving her a quick spank. She began to settle down. I massaged her clit gently. “Good girl. Now, let me tell you what you deserve.”

She was starting to get a bit more comfortable. When we were still together, I’d tell her all about my **** fantasies and she would cum hard to the thought. I knew she’d like what I had to say.

“I want to wear a ski mask and break in. I want to beat you with a leather belt, making you count the lashes out loud. I want to **** you and make you cum, and for us both to know that your **** brought you to orgasm.”

She was already melting in my arms as I rubbed her clit. Such a slut.

“Lord Jesus Christ,” she moaned. “That’s so unbelievably hot…keep going, baby…”

“I want to tie you up and share you with the neighborhood, making sure everyone gets a piece of your pussy. In the same way someone might sit on my couch or watch my tv, they can fuck my wife. They’re all on the same level. You’re just property to me. What you want doesn’t matter any more than what the couch wants. It doesn’t even enter my mind. I’ll cover your mouth with duct tape if you scream, but hopefully it doesn’t come to that and you can just accept your role as a sex object for us all.”

She was dripping wet, her torn panties soaked through. I knew how to turn on my bitch.

“You know…” she said. “I’ve been fantasizing a lot about being a little **** that gets passed around.”

“Yeah?” I massaged her clit a little harder and spanked her. “Tell me.”

“Yeah, completely stuffed with cocks. Just my whole body being completely overwhelmed and every inch of me dripping with cum. I want to be my master’s good little breeding **** and take a dozen hot loads from his good, strong studs.”

“Yeah, you wanna keep getting bred?” I asked.

“God, yes,” she answered, arching her back.

She was being oddly submissive for someone who’d been cucking her husband mercilessly. Or maybe it wasn’t odd. Maybe it was just her penance.

I noticed a tiny black mark near her ankle, covered by her long socks. I reached down to pull her sock back, and gasped at the little black spade. She had a queen of spades tattoo.

“I-is that a tattoo?” I asked.

She laughed and exhaled. In one moment, I watcher her entire demeanor change. She went from submissive to confident, from pathetic to self-assured.

“It’s not a tattoo,” she answered cooly. “But I might make it permanent.”

I looked on in disbelief. “Fucking whore,” I said in disgust, shoving her off of me. “Nigger-lover,” I muttered. Seductively, she crawled up to my face like a panther toying with its next meal. Her confidence was throwing me off a bit.

What the fuck did I walk into? I thought to myself.

“Why shouldn’t I get a queen of spades tattoo?” She asked. “I think I’ll get one right on my ass. After all, I’m already black bred.”

I was stunned by her attitude. “But how…you don’t know…”

“Oh, I know.” She said, grabbing my crotch. “Your little dicklet could never impregnate me,” she laughed.

I was getting flustered. “Okay, you act like a cum repository so you don’t know who knocked you up,” I said angrily. “That’s it.”

“True, I don’t know whose it is, exactly.” She sighed. “It could be Anton’s, it could be Tyrone’s, it could be Kendrick’s, it could be Jamal's…”

“Stop,” I told her. My heart was pounding. Fucking nigger cum dump…I was enraged. Nigger after nigger plowing my wife, dumping their huge nigger loads of cum into her white pussy. “There’s no way. There’s no way you cheated with that many people.”

“Aw…don’t be jealous, babe.”

She reached down and grabbed my balls, hard. She leaned in.

“Submit,” she whispered in my ear. “Just…be more open minded.”

I felt a sudden rush of warm air wash over me. I felt good, at peace. I faintly noticed a ticking noise in the background. A metronome? She snapped her fingers in my face. I blinked.

“So…you were meant for black cock?” I asked. What did I just say? I thought to myself. I didn’t just say that.

“Yes, baby, I was meant for black cock,” she replied. “I’m glad to see you’re being more open minded.”

“And I’m your cuck husband?” I heard myself saying. I didn’t feel in control.

“Yes, honey, you’re my sweet little cuck. I just love your little dick.” She ruffled my hair. "Good boy!”

I felt so happy when she said I was a good boy. I smiled.

“You’re gonna be such a good daddy to my bull’s children,” she said. “I’m very fertile, and I’m gonna keep letting them cum inside me. You don’t mind raising black kids, do you, baby?”

“I’d love to raise your black children,” I said, smiling hypnotically.

“You know, you could never please a woman,” she said, standing up. “Your dick is too small. That’s why I need big black cocks to satisfy me. But you’ll stay with me anyway. Isn’t that right, sweetheart?”

“Yes, my love.” I replied. I meant it. She’d cast some kind of spell over me. But I was fine with that.

She walked over to our coffee table and picked up a book, studying the cover for a moment. “I can’t believe this really works,” she said, tossing it back down. Hypnosis and Witchcraft: Controlling the Minds of Men, the title read.

She looked over her shoulder, spreading her ass. “Lick,” she commanded.

Before I could have a single thought, my face was buried in her ass, tonguing her passionately. “Stop,” she commanded. I did as I was told. “Lay down on your back." I obliged. She sat on my face, riding me and bringing herself to orgasm as I licked and pleasured her with my tongue. My cock was fully erect but I barely noticed. “That’s enough,” she said finally.

When I sat up, blood rushed to my head and I felt dizzy. Saliva dripped down my face. My tongue was…sore. My face ached. I looked at my watch. It was three in the morning. I’d arrived a little after midnight. Did I just spend over two hours eating her pussy…? It didn’t seem like it, but the clock wasn’t lying. I dazedly looked up at my wife, who was flushed red and glistening with sweat. At some point, she must have taken the rest of her clothes off, because she was completely nude. She looked like she’d just been gangbanged. I looked around, disoriented.

“How long was I…?”

“A long while,” she said, reaching for a cigarette out of her purse. She lit up.