Fantasy Out Of Control Ch. 04

Chapter 4

The terms and conditions

"You go with him," Randy told Beth as he nodded towards me. "We'll take care of William's new whore."

I had an interesting conversation with Beth and I know we would have fucked except she isn't allowed white cock. "It's a rule," she explained. "I'll never ever have white cock again. I even signed a contract, just like I'm guessing your wife will do soon. She's made for it – Black cock, that is. She'll love it – the life."

She was in the front seat beside me in the parking lot. I was looking at a woman who had absolutely no sexual inhibitions left. Even as we talked, me putting the key in the ignition and her pulling on a seat belt, her other hand was between her legs, skirt up and her amazing cunt visible. Everything she did seemed designed to lead her towards orgasm.

I should point out that by now I was past horny. My rock-hard cock throbbed. I had seen my wife fucked twice by a Black cock, had seen her pawed, fingered, and practically stripped naked in a Black bar. I had seen other white women put themselves on display for Black men, and I was sitting beside an almost naked tiny blonde woman who would very soon be bred by Black men. She was to become an instrument, or vehicle if you like, to produced Black babies – and she didn't even know it. So if I was horny and not necessarily thinking straight, please forgive me.

Susan was in the fancy, expensive import car behind us with Randy driving. I didn't know if she was in the back or the front, nor where William was. Perhaps if they had been ahead of me I would have stopped and persuaded Beth to reconsider the no-white-cock rule.

But we were home in a few minutes anyway, and Beth and I had only that time to talk. I asked about her husband Rob.

"I started out doing this because that's what he wanted," Beth explained. "It took a long time to convince me, but after the first time I was hooked. And if he really wanted me to stop, I would. But he'd never satisfy me. He may have once been all I needed, but not anymore. I guess I'd be disappointed sexually, but I'd survive. You wife will be the same way. In fact she probably is already."

She said it probably sounded stereotypical and all that, but once a white woman experiences Black cock, she'll never be the same. "Sex takes on a whole different dimension," she told me. "How can I put it? Okay, sex with a white man is like someone giving you a banana once a week. Sex with a Black man is like having the entire banana split every day of the week. And another thing. Sex with a white man is just physical. Sex with a Black man is 10 times more physical but it's psychological too. It's taboo, for one thing. There's the risk of getting caught which is a big turn-on for me. There's the risk of getting pregnant. Can you imagine me, the cute little blonde, with a big Black baby inside me? And people's reactions? And of course there is being owned. I'm literally owned by a Black man. Randy can do whatever he wants with my body and I can't refuse him. And he's made me do almost every degrading sexual act there is short of fucking animals. But if he asked me to fuck his big black lab, I would."

I can't say I was stunned or anything like that. But what she said put things in a whole different perspective. By the time we pulled in my driveway, and saw Susan (naked), William, and Randy through the living room window (I had stopped with blinker on to let them pull in first so my car was the one visible), the entire fantasy of the day before took on a completely different colour – so to speak.

I got out of the car, and Beth was doing the same, but on a whim, I stopped her.

"Beth, take your clothes off and leave them in the car," I said in a matter-of-fact way. There were no close neighbours and we were a bit secluded from the street. "And when we go in – during the next several hours – impress upon my wife how much you love being Black-owned. I want her to wake up tomorrow with her mind made up. Mine already is."

Beth smiled as she shed her skirt and blouse. "You're a lot like Robert," she said.

Her body was cute and sexy. The engorged pussy with its out-sized lips hanging open were incongruous, but they told the whole story. The gallons of Black man's seed that had already passed through those lips and deep into her belly were many, and the gallons to come were unimaginable. That was Susan a year from now, I thought.

Beth and I went inside and neither William nor Randy batted an eye at her nakedness. Susan was in no position to say anything. She was sitting on a stool in the middle of the living room, naked, legs spread and her loose cunt on display. She was still hot and I expected she had been well played with on the drive home.

"We were just explaining to Susan about being Black-owned," Randy said. "I don't think it's quite what you two think. At least it's not around this town. Forget all you've read on the Internet. Forget the notions you may have built up in the last few years. With us, Black-owned is simple. Susan becomes, literally, William's property. Much like owning a dog. You both continue your normal lives. We won't impose upon that. But when night-time rolls around – every night – she belongs to William. Every weekend from Friday evening to the wee hours of Sunday morning, she's his to do with as he pleases."

I was listening to him but watching my increasingly horny and agitated wife. Her knuckles were white where she gripped the edge of the stool between her splayed legs. Her juices were actually dripping.

"She will do anal, double penetration, oral – tit fucking – whatever William wants with him or whomever he wishes," Randy continued. "But she'll never be hurt. She'll never catch anything. And nobody outside our network of friends will hurt her. As long as she's William's she's safer than any white woman in this town. If she gets knocked up, she delivers. If somebody brings a video camera she smiles at it and fucks in front of it."

Susan was barely hanging on now. She was too short for her legs to touch the floor and Beth slipped in behind her to steady her – a hand on her back and the other on her thigh – which apparently aroused Susan even more because she gave a quick gasp.

Randy was talking mainly to me but for Susan's benefit.

"You okay with all of this," he asked me, as if he knew it was already all right with my wife.

"So far it is," I replied. "Keep going."

"Good," Randy said. "This is what we're going to do. William and I are going to spend the night in your bedroom with your wife. Since this is new to you, you can watch, even join in when it's appropriate. You'll see your wife satisfied like you'll never be able to do. When we're done, Bill and I will be so worn out we'll be crawling out the door. Your wife will have the loosest pussy you've ever seen (I glanced at Beth and Randy laughed). She'll be sore. She'll have cum dripping from her ass, and probably hickies and bite marks from her neck down. But I can guarantee one thing – she'll still want more. In fact, I'll make that a bet."

Beth had been absently nodding at everything he said. She knew.

"In the next few days, you and Susan will talk and decide between you if she goes on to the real thing. If the answer is no, then that's it. A bit of fun was had by all, but no hard feelings. If the answer is yes, then we get out the paperwork. You'll give up all rights to her body and sign them over to William. I know this has no legal standing but it serves to keep things on track and in perspective. Your signature will be on it and I expect you're a man of your word. There's an out-clause in it for Susan and for William. None for you. After it's signed, you have no more say. Susan or William can end it with three months notice. If you cause trouble, the contract may find its way into the public domain."

Susan was moaning and Beth was stroking her back as if to comfort her.

"You may be wondering about being allowed to fuck your wife," Randy said, reading my mind. "For a few months, that's fine. In fact you'll enjoy her more than ever. But when six months arrives, that's it. By then I expect you'll have discovered other ways to get off. If it becomes known that you fucked her, or even tried to get your cock in her, there will be consequences you'll regret. No physical harm, don't think that of William. But things will start to go wrong in your life – let's just leave it at that. This is a bit like a game, psychologically, but it's a serious game. You're getting your fantasy. Susan's getting to be the slut she really is. We're getting plenty of white cunt. Everyone wins."

Randy was about done, but had to add that as in the case of Beth, Susan would be filmed pretty much every fuck session. It wouldn't be those little toy digital video cameras either. It would be his own professional equipment. The videos would be for public consumption within the Black community and as a gesture, I would receive copies. And of course, there was a private website where her pictures, videos, and streaming videos would be stored and others could make requests to use her cunt. That would be up to William.

At the time, this all seemed so serious, so final – but at the same time so unreal. Randy was both friendly, yet his voice carried authority and finality. There would be no arguing. But they really weren't as tough as all the talk. They weren't like all those stories I'd read about 'gangstas' and 'home boys.' Yes, they had different ideas about sex, and different ideas about white women and their role in society, but just like William wouldn't kick a dog, or slap a child, he wouldn't hurt a white woman. Sure, he'd use her to the point of abuse, but never to a point she wouldn't want to go. I look now at my wife's nipple rings, at her multiple clit piercings (five on each outsized cunt lip and one on the hood of her large and sensitive clit) and know that in the end, she was the one who agreed to it. And she agreed not just to the holes being made, but to what they signified and the use to which they might be put. The Susan I married would never have endured the pain of being tattooed. But she now has several – one above her now-bald pussy that says 'Black Owned,' and one in the small of her back that simply says 'William's.' And she is his property, just like Max the German Shepard is his dog. In his world (now mine and Susan's) that's how it is. He trained Max how to fetch, stay on the property, and not to bite. He taught my wife similar things, including how to roll over. Max gets a treat for rolling over, so does Susan. To William, and to the other families in this circle of families, Susan is his bitch. But she agreed to it.

William and Beth had listened quietly, both nodding their heads from time to time as if this was all normal. My wife sat on display, and at the time I didn't know if she actually heard any of it or absorbed the discussion about her future – the use of her body as a fuck toy for Blacks. Later she told me she had heard, but as if in a dream. Beth's stimulations were driving her towards an orgasm she couldn't quite achieve and Randy's voice, she said, was hypnotic. But she didn't move because Randy had told her not to. And she didn't speak because she found she couldn't.

William had the last word.

"It's all up to you," he said more to Susan than to me. "If you want tonight to continue forever, then you'll agree to what Randy said. If not, well, ..."

That last he said as if she would be turning down lottery winnings of major proportions.