Black Man One Ch. 14

I was devastated by the sudden presence of the young black stud at our front door. After I finished relieving myself, I walked out of the bathroom with the front of pants partially wet. I looked over to my wife, Julie, who was still passed out cold on the bed.

Numerous black ink spade stamps were strategically placed all over her body and face, and they were a blatant show of disrespect for me by the young black. It was a humiliating and demoralizing reality and I feared hearing what her explanation might be when she finally woke up.

As I walked back into the kitchen still holding Julie's cell phone in my hands I looked down to it's screen. Her cell had been returned by Tra'mon and she had "left it in his car" by his own comments. The worst thoughts crossed my mind as I examined Julie's cell phone closer.

The cell phone screen was turned to the many text messages I had sent Julie the night before as I groveled and pleaded for her to come home. In these texts, I also complained about her being at "The Black Jacques Club" and getting those black inked spade stamps. Initially, I wondered if the young black stud had actually seen Julie's phone last night. I reasoned that "he had to" see it, and perhaps this was the reason he had all those degrading ink stamps placed on her.

What he had seemingly done was a complete and total "slap in the face" to me, and I was far too much of a wimp to stand up to the black man. His obvious show of black supremacy was insulting and degrading to me, just as I was sure that it would be to any white weakling wimp husband.

Still demoralized, I walked back over to the couch and layed down. It was hard to absorb what had just happened, and what I had just observed. Once again, I fell asleep feeling completely defeated. The young black stud was so cocky, arrogant and mean to me. It couldn't be more obvious that he was rubbing my face in the control he had over my wife, Julie.

I had only been asleep for 2 hours. My brief dream of when things were so good between Julie and I seemed to be no more than a distant memory now. When I woke up and looked over to my passed out wife on the bed, the realization of the nightmare I was living slapped me back into my degrading reality. I stood up and walked over to the kitchen to make coffee for myself when I haphazardly glanced out through the window overlooking the pool area.

Tra'mon was out there sitting by the pool with one of his white women "friends" once again. As I looked longer I was astounded to see this beautiful white woman on her knees clipping the young black stud's toenails. My eyes widened in awe as I realized that she was actually giving this black man a full pedicure by the pool.

"Geez!" I said to myself, humiliated for her.

The young stud sat there in a microscopic flimsy teal green bikini ignoring the beautiful blonde woman as she diligently pampered his feet in the most sevile manner. She clipped and filed and buffed his nails like he was at one of those asian nail salons. Humbly, I watched as my coffee finished brewing and filled my cup. It was truly degrading to know that this young black stud had so many white women serving at his feet, in many cases literally.

It was curious to me that all these white women, and all the white wives from our condo building, could not see his brashness and arrogance the same way us white men did.

"Can't they see how horrible he is?" I asked myself.

They had to see how he used all these beautiful white women "friends" of his. They had to know. They had to see how obvious it was that he had fucked them into submission, treated them as subservient slaves, and degraded them with such blatant disregard for their self esteem. By now, they had to know that he had fathered 7 children with 7 different white women without a care in the world. They had to know this. The white wives had to see how intimidated all us husbands were, too.

"How could they not see this?" I asked myself, again and again.

To them, they continued to see only his pure and overwhelming masculinity, his massive black cock, and his aura of dominance over us weaker white men. It hit me that they were, in their own minds, seeing a "real" man. A black man. And, this seemed to be the cause of them "fawning" all over him like school girls, and obediently listening to words and commands.

It was clear that all us white men feel helpless, humiliated and embarrassed by how a black man takes complete charge over white women. It is defeating for most, if not all of us. Now, I was seeing this on a more personalized level. This thought, alone, caused my already small package to shrivel up to the size of raisins.

Another hour had passed when I heard Julie finally waking up in the other room. Eagerly, I rushed over to her to give her a piece of my mind about her young black boss' "marring" of her body. At least, this is how I envisioned our discussion would go.

But, that would not happen.

As Julie sat up from our bed I entered. She was holding her head in the same manner someone with a hangover would. She never looked worse. It was even more horrifying with all those ink stamps on her.

"J-Julie? Why didn't you answer my text messages last night?" I asked.

My beautiful, blonde wife looked over towards me rather casually and unconcerned.

"Oh, well I lost my phone in the club somewhere." she answered, nearly incoherent.

"No, Julie. I have it here." I said, holding it up.

"Tra'mon brought it by and said you left it in his car." I said.

"Oh, well okay. What else did he say?" she asked softly.

"Well, nothing important I guess. Just to call him when you woke up. He's by the pool." I informed her.

Julie suddenly stood up quickly. She walked over to me and grabbed the phone in desparation, then began dialing.

"Julie? I wasn't finished speaking with you." I shouted.

"Shush, honey. One minute." she replied as she walked into the kitchen and looked out the window towards him.

"Yes, Trey. Sure. I just woke up, Trey." her whispered voice barely detectable.

"Yes, Sir. Yes, Trey. I will be right down, Sir." she muttered.

Immediately, Julie closed her cell phone and began filling a glass of water for herself in the kitchen.

"Julie? What the heck happened? Why are all those marks all over you?" I gasped, becoming disturbed.

"What are you talking about?" my wife asked.

"Th-those marks all over your face and arms. You're covered with them! What the hell?!" I snapped.

Julie rushed into the bathroom to look at herself in the mirror. I noticed her first look of shock and awe before her facial expression turned mellow.

"Oh, that's nothing." she began explaining.

"Trey was just goofing around last night. He stole the door man's ink stamper and was just playin' around I guess." she answered.

"I'm sure it'll come off with some cold cream." she added.

But, the numerous spade symbols did not come easily. As a matter of fact, they merely turned the dark black ink into a deep grey color, but the spade symbol markings and images were rather obvious.

I complained about those ink marks again, and Julie seemed to defend it.

"Would you stop! I don't have time. My boss needs to talk about some things and I need to get ready." she snapped.

"B-But, Julie?" I muttered.

"Stop. I don't want to hear it. They're innocent stamps. They'll come off." Julie said.

"Trey was just playing around with all of us." she added.

"Trey didn't mean any harm." she concluded.

I watched as Julie put on a small bikini and her sandals. She grabbed a towel and had not even showered. She merely put cold cream on her face and washed her face, arms and body with a rag. The inked spade symbols were so apparent, and utterly humiliating. The full spaded symbol stamps on her asscheeks were the darkest of them all after she washed up. They had been stamped through her white spandex tights, and it was obvious Julie had not tried washing them off at all.

I watched my young blonde wife walking out the door to go down to the pool area. Both her pale ass cheeks had the black spade symbol "inked" onto her skin. She turned to me.

"After our meeting you should join us." she suggested.

"An hour or so." she added.

"Well, I-I-I don't know?" I replied, cowardly, as my wife scurried out the door to meet the young black man.

When I looked out from the kitchen windows to see her sitting with Tra'mon, the spade symbol markings were blatant. Even from that distance on the second floor, the club stamps were visible and she acted like it was no big deal. I was amazed by this, and even more degraded that the black stud was blatantly making a spectacle of my blonde wife.

I struggled to understand his blatant disregard for Julie. Yet, I knew I was afraid to ever say anything to him about it. I had no backbone to stand up to the tougher, more masculine black stud.

Defeatedly, I stayed in my condo apartment all afternoon avoiding any confrontation with Tra'mon. Cowardly, I never went down to the pool that day.

end.