Ramya: Raj takes charge after the Bahamas

A week after returning from the Bahamas, I'm on the very wrong side of town with my lips wrapped around the biggest and blackest cock I've ever seen. Jamal is beneath me in every way. At the bottom of the socioeconomic ladder, broke, criminal record, mysterious tattoos all over, six inches shorter than me, and yet this unworthy man is about to ejaculate down my throat.

My time in the Bahamas changed me. There's no way I would have hooked up with a guy like Jamal before. Claire has a thing for black guys, not me. I suck off middle-class white guys and marry wealthy Indians. But I sought Jamal out. I went to the wrong side of the tracks for BBC to live on the edge.

In fact, Jamal would probably be fucking me right now if my ass wasn't still covered in bruises. It's that time of the month too, which helps keep my panties on. After 50 lashes with the cane, I'm not at all scared to pop my cherry with a big black cock. I want the challenge. I want a memorable first time. It needs to hurt a little.

I performed a detailed hymen inspection after returning home. Kiki's two fingers and probe thinned it out, but I'll still pop and bleed when I take on more girth. I'm still sealed up and marriageable, sort of, if I even care anymore. I just rejected a billionaire with actual personality. Raj is every Indian family’s arranged-marriage wet dream. No Indian can measure up to that.

Mark has been blowing up my phone since I got back. Remember the guy I fellated before the Bahamas? I told him I'd fuck him on our next date. I don't know why I'm blowing him off. Is he too tame for me now?

"I'm going to come, baby. Swallow it all," Jamal demands. He's pushing hard on my head, controlling his pace as he fucks my mouth. It interferes with my head game and actually makes the blow job last longer than it needs to. But I like him being a little rough now.

His hips buck, and spunk floods my mouth. I live for this moment, and Jamal's reward is copious. But he tastes awful. I don't know if it's the weed, the shitty diet, or the cigarettes. I almost gag as I wheeze for breath. I usually collect the ejaculate with only the head and little bit of shaft in my mouth. But Jamal has most of his thick cock in me and is already triggering my gag reflex. Some of it escapes out the corner of my mouth, which I lick up as his orgasm winds down. A nice recovery by an expert cocksucker!

I'm grateful for the stale beer I have next to his shitty bed to wash down the funk.

I'm on my stomach checking my phone messages. I've waited too long to leave, and now Jamal is horny again. He starts rubbing my butt through my jeans. The wounds have healed enough to where I can sit pain-free, but the marks still show. He lays on me, and I feel his erection sliding along my butt cheeks. He reaches under, grabbing my breast through my shirt as he kisses my neck. This is hot for me. He's taking charge, and I feel small and enveloped.

"I want to fuck you, baby," he breathes.

"Rain check. Not a good time. Trust me," I say.

"I don't mind that," he says, and he tugs at my jeans, pulling them down below my cheeks along with my panties. He sees the bruises on my ass. "What's this?"

"Get off," I say, then tug my pants up. "That's not your business."

Jamal accepts that, and I roll to my back and kiss him and grab his erection. "I want your big dick in me. But you're going to have to wait on that."

I show myself out a few minutes later.

In church the next weekend, there's an announcement. A mysterious anonymous donation of $200,000. Against my better judgement, I text Raj.

Me: You made good on your promise. Then doubled it? Thank you.

Raj replies overnight: I'm in India. Yes, it seemed a worthy cause.

The next few weeks go by fast. I'm incredibly horny, but I spend long hours at work and settle for nightly masturbation to scratch the itch. I meet a new Indian man at my parents' insistence. Another prospective groom, and another disappointment. He's timid and arrogant, if it's possible to be both, and very unattractive. His English sucks, and he puts me down several times. I reject him without a second thought.

Then Raj is back at the office, in town to continue his work with our firm. And with me as the young CIO, I am forced to work with him a lot. Amazingly, it's easy. He never acts like we know each other personally, and that builds up mutual trust. He doesn't hit on me or use our sexual past to manipulate me in business.

On one hand, I hate that he's seen me naked, begging to be his husband. I hate that he had me beaten and hopeless in front of him. On the other hand, I chose to walk away. I rejected him before he could tell me it was all for nothing and reject me. And after some time has gone by, I am ready to admit that I overreacted. The audition was fun. The caning was tough and humiliating, but I'm oddly grateful for the experience. I tested my limits and prevailed.

It's the end of my toughest week in my new role as CIO. I'm trying a new outfit for casual Friday. I dress for the position as an executive and look great during the week, but on Fridays I try to push more into sexy without making it look like I'm trying too hard. I get way more looks from the men in a tight pair of jeans that hugs my hips than I do in a business suit. I have beautiful, glossy black hair that I can style, but the men seem to love the high ponytail, like I'm a cocksucker ready to drop to my knees.

Today I'm in a skater skirt that falls a couple inches above the knees. The thick fabric hides the contours of my shapely buttocks, but it accentuates my trim waist and muscular legs. My big saggy tits are lifted in a good bra. Big nipples poke through when the AC dips too low or when I notice a bulge in one of my coworker's pants. I'm not showing cleavage, but the third button on my top strains like it might lose the fight. The heeled boots raise my 6'1" stature and put me taller than most men in the office.

The outfit is a ridiculous mash-up of Japanese virgin school-girl and Amazonian dominatrix. I think of Kiki and give her credit for the inspiration. The result is a striking presence in the office that draws the male gaze and gives me a towering command presence in meetings.

Raj and I team up to push through some ideas on the joint venture. After crushing some of my peers' dissent, the CEO finally agrees. It's a huge win for me as long as it pans out. Only time will prove me right.

I finish catching up on emails by 6PM and am pretty much alone in the building. I'm too late to hit the Crossfit evening class. I have no plans for the upcoming weekend, my first completely free one in a month. Claire is doing her thing with Tanner, our mentoring relationship pretty much dead. Jamal didn't reply to my text, I'm still blowing off Mark, and I just don't feel like going out. But I'm super horny after crushing the day.

Time to put out these flames.

I used to masturbate at work on Fridays when I stayed late. That was my thing. Now I have a bigger office and a better chair. Door shut, blinds drawn, I get to work.

The skater skirt makes it easy. I just lift the hem and slide my hand under damp panties. I'm still shaving it bare each day. The first orgasm comes quickly with just gentle rubbing on my clit.

The panties come off, and I lift my legs and put my feet on the desk. I'll take my time with the second one. I slip a finger in, grip it with my pussy muscles, and flow it slowly. I'm wetter today than normal. Must be the right time of the cycle. The bottom of the skirt is saving my expensive chair from getting wet. I'm so relaxed, I push my boundaries. I carefully slide a second finger into my pussy. It's very tight but it doesn't hurt. Kiki definitely loosened things up with her two fingers and the probe in the Bahamas. I'm grateful.

I'm slow and respectful with the thrusting though. I'm not going to go too crazy. I still have an intact hymen to protect, for now. I can feel the ring against my fingers along with the tight grip of my muscles. I can sense them both when I go slow and pay attention.

This feels great. I'll definitely be using two fingers from now on when I masturbate. That two-finger Indian virginity test can kiss my ass.

The second orgasm hits perfectly. I pick up my phone and check the apps I'm using less and less for dating now. No messages. I check Raj's location. He left his phone unattended once during a meeting break, and I sent him a request to track his location and used his phone to approve it. He savagely beat me until I almost shit myself, so I get to track his location for no reason since I rejected him and absolutely don't want to marry him. Seems fair.

Anyway he's still here, somewhere in the Accounting department. I send him a text:

Me: Please come to my office.