A Picture in Black and White

They kept her strapped to the horse for much of the time, raising and lowering it and spinning it around depending on how they chose to take her.

And they took her every way imaginable. They took her gently and they took her roughly, depending on their individual temperaments and the passion she showed in return.

They raised the leather bolster until her round bottom was once again spread wide.

They stood in front of her and pulled their hard cocks up toward their bellies to make it easier for her to lick their heavy, black balls. They turned around when they were satisfied with her licking, and pressed their tight muscular cheeks against her face, ordering her to tongue their assholes.

They made her suck their long, black dicks until they were hard and slick with her saliva, and then they turned her around and slid their hard shafts into her tight rectum, probing deep in her bowels, making her groan.

They came in her bottom, and her mouth, and her swollen, stretched pussy, filling her with their black seed. She gloried in the long ribbons of hot sperm she coaxed from each of them, her skin glistening with their sticky tribute.

And each time they took her, filling her with their thick, black cocks, they brought her again and again and again to rolling, shaking orgasms, her entire body trembling, her moans of pleasure reverberating throughout the small theatre.

At one point Alan stepped up on stage – no longer serving as Damon's lieutenant, but as a Master-in-training in his own right -- eager for the chance to finally discipline this beautiful young woman. He was stark naked, his hard, defined muscles rippling. His body was oiled, and glistened under the spotlights of the stage. His long, thick shaft, fully 10 inches long, stood out in front of him menacingly.

In his hand he carried his black leather belt.

This time, though, he demonstrated its true use as we watched in terrible fascination. Slowly, tauntingly, he strapped my wife's bare bottom. Between strokes he would lean down and whisper things in her ear, and we would watch, unbelieving, as she strained to spread her legs more widely apart, to allow the leather belt to reach her most intimate, tender flesh.

Finally convinced that things had gone too far, I stood up to put an end to this lesson. As I approached the stage, however, I stopped, suddenly catching my breath. Because I finally noticed that each crack of the belt on her upturned bottom generated in her a small spasm, and shake, and a soft moan.

Alan knew, too. No doubt he had known all along it would be like this. It was probably why he had been so eager to discipline her – the knowledge that every time he strapped her it would cause another little wave of pleasure to roll from her pussy out across her body, like endless waves breaking on shore.

I sat back down in my seat.

Finally, after a quarter of an hour, and with my wife's bottom and thighs bright pink from his ministrations, Alan stopped. He turned to the audience, squinted into the near-darkness for a second, and then singled out two men – two of the biggest I had seen all evening. He motioned them up, and they wasted no time in complying. They came up on stage and quickly undressed. We all sucked in our breath sharply when they slid their briefs down, revealing cocks every bit as long and thick as Alan's.

And with that, the finale to the evening's show began. The three of them spent the next half-hour making love to my wife as we sat watching in awe.

First they unfastened her from the leather bolster, to have better access to her. Then they placed her on hands and knees. Alan laid beneath her, the second kneeled in front of her, and the third behind. And then they took her, all three of them together, at the same time.

Imagine it. Three enormous black cocks sliding in and out of your wife's mouth, stretching her pussy, filling her ass -- as you sit and watch. The size of the cock down her throat so great that it almost completely muffles her cries of pleasure. The way each of them rotate position, to taste first her pussy, then her anus, then her mouth... The seemingly endless streams of hot cum they spray into her, and over her...

And finally, with the four of them completely satiated and lying in a tangled heap of limbs, how you are ordered up on stage by Alan, and made to undress in front of the audience. How your own hard cock, to your embarrassment, reveals your own excitement. How his instructions are short, firm, unyielding.

The awareness of free choice, and the fact that you have elected, instead, to obey.

The salty tribute of her lovers as you bend to the ordered task, gently soothing and cleaning the soft folds of her tender flesh.

And, at her whispered, and very insistent command, the first, forbidden taste of your wife's new tools of pleasure.

Chapter XLIII

Life – or should I say private life? – changed forever after that night. Certainly not for the worse. Indeed, we both entered into a new dynamic that remained forever electrifying, forever new – however morally or emotionally confusing it may have been at times. And those issues we managed to work out over time, able to analyze and dismiss petty jealousies, or insecurities, and eventually reach an emotional-intellectual plane that brought us even closer together, and not more distant, as conventional thought might dictate.

Charles slowly faded from our lives, but was replaced in the following years by other black masters of equally strong will and firm hand. We missed him, and wanted him back, but the last time we saw him he finally explained that he had other young couples to enlighten – that he had accomplished his mission with us. We were disappointed, but understood.

Brigitte discovered ever-higher plateaus under a succession of strict disciplinarians – as, I confess, did I. They took her – both of us – to new realms of experimentation and ecstasy, often at the club in Providence, but even much closer to home, becoming part of our workaday lives and not just the occasional Saturday night out.

A phone call would come in the early morning, as we were dressing for work. Noting the instructions carefully, I would then prepare Brigitte – putting her over my lap, lubricating a penis-shaped anal plug, and sliding it into her bottom, to be held in place by a sheer black thong. I would not remove it until she returned home from work that night.

Or taking her to a private rendezvous at the Four Seasons, or the Ritz, where we would be told a room number, and ascend to the appropriate floor. Upon entering the assigned room, we would be welcomed by a small group from that underground network of black Doms we'd come to know – those who specialized in training attractive young suburban wives. There, Brigitte would slowly undress until naked, and then be ordered to masturbate for them as they had her tell them what she wanted done to her.

Or returning home at dinnertime from the office, clutching a champagne flute full to the brim. Not, of course, with champagne, but instead with the rich, creamy semen of the master who'd met her in a motel that afternoon. And as I drank my bourbon on the rocks, she would look at me and sip her lover's sperm.

That was our life in the years following Charles, and very rich and rewarding it turned out to be. If I ever had any regrets, I did not let them linger. Whenever I had any doubts or confusion, I recalled that I, myself, had started all of it. And indeed, the pleasure I gained from it was, I'm sure, equal to my wife's.

Only once in all of it did I harbor a brief doubt, a tiny, niggling fear that I did not, in fact, control my life to the extent that I had believed.

Several months after our first visit to the club in Providence, we were home alone, making love. After a lovely, romantic hour, just as we were lying languorously entwined, Brigitte giggled a little.

"What's up?" I asked, awakening from my doze.

"I have a little confession to make," she said, giggling again.

"What's that?"

"Well..." she began sleepily "Remember all that time ago, when we met Charles at the Ritz? That November night?"

"How could I forget?" I answered. "That was the start of everything."

"Well..." she began again.

"Honey, you mean to tell me you have a secret after all of this? Seriously?"

"Just a little one," she giggled again.

"And that would be...?"

Her voice drifted over to me, ever so slow and dreamy with impending sleep. She only whispered the words, so close was she to dreamland.

"I called him the week before and asked him to meet us that night at the hotel..."

I turned to look at her, astonished. Her eyes were closed, sleep finally having overtaken her.

A slight smile lit her face.