Yes she does!

Abigail’s hand continued its slow, maddening rhythm on your cock, her grip a perfect, torturous cage that was both in a way pleasure and humiliation. Your small, hard length was completely engulfed in her palm, and with every lazy stroke, a fresh wave of heat washed over you.

“Look at you,” she cooed, her voice a silken taunt. “So worked up. Is it my hand, or is it thinking about what I just said? About Darnell?” She leaned in, her lips brushing your ear, her voice dropping to a conspiratorial whisper. “Jamal’s big, isn’t he? I saw the way you were looking at him and we all know, he doesn't care to hide his endowment. And don't get me started on Trent... that boy loves breaking in new snow bunnies, bd it boys or girls. They’d both have so much fun with an fat juicy white bubble butt like yours.”

Her free hand, the one not stroking you, came up to gently grip your wrist that you let hanging at your side. “Oh, don’t be shy, Emile, come on, touch me,” she commanded softly.

She guided your trembling hand to her breast, placing your palm directly over the hard, sensitive and pierced nipple. “Feel that. That’s a real woman’s breast, made for a black man to squeeze and suck on.”

Your fingers instinctively curled, the soft, heavy weight of her breast filling your hand. It was incredible and the first time you got to tuch anyone else like this. She hummed in approval, guiding your other hand to her other breast. “That’s it white boy. Get a good feel. This is what you’re working towards, what you’re meant to worship.”

She let you explore for a moment, your drunken awe definetly making you bolder then you'd normally be. Then, she took your hands again and guided them down, over the soft curve of her stomach and around to her back. “Now this,” she purred, pressing your hands onto the wide, generous swell of her ass. “This is a snow bunny ass. Its just like yours. Perfect and made to be held and spread by big strong, hands and to be fucked by a real men. Black men.”

She made you squeeze, your hands sinking into the firm, pliant flesh. “You feel that, Emile? Your body is built for this. This thick, white bubble butt of yours... it’s practically an invitation. A sign that says ‘Big Black Cock Only’ right here.” She gave your own ass a sharp, playful smack with her free hand, making you yelp. “Jamal and Trent are probably fighting over who gets to break you in first. They’d stretch this little hole until it’s the perfect shape for their big black cocks.”

Her words were filth, pure poison that you eagerly drank in. Your hips were bucking now, fucking her hand with ****, needy thrusts.

She guided one of your hands back around to the front, down her stomach, until your fingers brushed against the cold, hard flat metal of her cage. “And this,” she whispered, pressing your hand against it. “This is your future. This is the truth.”

She held your hand there, forcing you to feel the locked-away remnant of her past masculinity.

“You know, when I was still a man... when I was Alex... even I was bigger than you,” she said, her voice a low, devastating blow. “Hard to believe, isn’t it? But it’s true. And even then, I was way too small to be taken seriously. That’s why it’s now close to permanently gone. That’s why it’s locked away forever. Because a white thing like this has no purpose, no right to exist, ehen there is so much better out there...”

Her other hand left your cock for a moment, and you almost cried out at the loss. But then she moved lower, gently cupping your small, tight, hairless balls in her palm. “And these... these little white balls,” she murmured, rolling them gently. “They’re so cute and tiny. They’re trying sooo hard to be manly, aren’t they?” She leaned in close, her breath hot against your cheek. “Mine are empty now. Completely sterile. The hormones saw to that. They’ve shriveled up to almost nothing. They don’t work anymore, and that’s just how it goes for white men, how it should be. Your seed is weak, it’s inferior and it’s better off just... drying up. Leaving you free to focus on what really matters: pleasing black men and letting them spread their superior genetic material, instead of your inferior one.”

The combination of her continuous stroking, her dirty talk, and the feeling of her hands on your most private places was too much. You are a live wire, thrumming with a **** and the frantic need to cum.

“Please…” you whimpered, your voice cracking. “Abigail... please... I want...”

“Please what, little snow bunny?” she taunted, her hand returning to your cock, her strokes becoming faster, more demanding. “Please let you cum? You want to show me how a tiny little white dick like yours shoots its pathetic little load?”

“Yes! Fuck, fuuuck yes!” you cried out, your whole body tensing up.

She could feel you twitching in her hand, your small balls drawing up tight and just as you were about to shoot your load, she let go of your cock completely. With her other hand, she gave you a firm, two-fingered shove on your chest, pushing you back a step. You stumbled, your blue eyes flying open in confusion and panic.

You are now standing directly over the large, open floor drain in the center of the bathroom.

But that didn't stop you from reaching the end, your orgasm hit you like a freight train. A thick, powerful spasm wracked your whole body, and a pathetic, thin stream of cum shot from your white dick, splattering uselessly into the metal grate below. It was over in seconds, only a few weak spurts, and then nothing. You stood there, panting and trembling, your thick legs feeling like jelly.

Abigail watched the whole display with a look of detached amusement. She glanced down at the drain, then back at your softening, pitiful-looking cock.

“Well,” she said, her voice dripping with condescending sweetness. “That was... cute, I guess” She wrinkled her nose slightly. “Such a tiny little mess. Honestly, it’s beneath me to even look at it. White men’s cum is so inferior to a black man’s. A black man’s load is big, thick, and potent, worthy of being worshiped and swallowed. That?” She gestured dismissively at the drain. “That’s just a sad little puddle. Now, pull up your pants, sweetie. We have a party to get back to.”