Lady Helen Archer: Black Cock Whore

"I'll take my coffee on the terrace thank you Brabinger"

"Very well Lady Archer"

Lady Helen Archer stood politely as the waiter moved her chair discreetly back allowing her to depart from her table. It was Tuesday and the country club was full of the usual suspects. She counted three Earls, a Duke and at least four Mistress's as she made her way to the terrace. She nodded at a number of acquaintances as she elegantly moved amongst the tables and chairs, some of them still set out for late arrivals. The Club was nothing if not accommodating for its select band of members and it was not unusual to find tables seating late arrivals well into the afternoon.

Lady Archer chose a table on the terrace out of the sun and sat herself down, making sure not to crease her immaculate blue Gucci suit. At fifty years of age she felt that time had been kind to her, she still turned heads with her striking features, her hair bobbed and brunette, the same colour and style as when she was twenty. Her legs were good, long and athletic and her breasts still had much of the youthful perkiness that had ensured she had the pick of the suitors on the Deb ball circuit in the year of her coming out. She had married well and born three lovely children, now sadly all flown the nest except young Samantha who was the apple of her Mother and Fathers eye. All in all she was happy with her lot, OK her husband was absent on business more than she would of liked, she still had a woman's needs despite her age, but she never complained and always stuck by her man no matter what. She had forgiven him his little sordid affairs and always, always been faithful to him no matter what options had been presented to her.

Lady Archer toyed with her key ring while she waited for her coffee, where on earth was it? The service was normally excellent here what could have gone wrong? Helen put it down to the general deterioration of moral fibre amongst the working classes and resolved to complain to her good friend Henrietta St-John-Smythe about the matter. Hen would sort it out, she was secretary of the country club after all and there was nothing she couldn't fix. Suddenly the key ring she had been toying with slipped from her grasp falling with a clatter to the ground. As she bent to fetch it her skirt rode up her shapely legs, exposing her stocking clad thighs to the world, rather more thigh in fact than would normally have been considered decent in polite company. To make matters worse her blouse was gaping open as well offering unimpeded views of her considerable cleavage, an altogether unsatisfactory situation for a lady to be in. At that same instant a waiter coughed politely.

"Your Coffee Lady Archer"

Lady Archer straightened, as she did so her face came level with the crotch of the waiter who had spoken to her, who appeared to be standing a lot closer to her Ladyship than was strictly necessary. Lady Archer's view was filled with the waiter's crotch and she couldn't help but notice the largest bulge she had seen since Linford Christie had last graced the TV screens. For once in her life she was momentarily stuck for words as her gaze failed to be dragged away from what was clearly a rather large penis enclosed as it was in a pair of tight black waiters trousers. Helen could feel a heat rising in her cheeks but also more worryingly between her thighs, how long had it been since she had been this close to a real penis? To long she thought. She was also suddenly aware that she was showing a lot of thigh not to mention a good view of her stocking tops as well, her bra encased breasts completing a picture any voyeur would of loved to witness.

She quickly composed herself her eyes travelling further up the waiter's body, taking in the nametag and last, but by no means least, the fact that he was as black as the night itself. It was all she could do to stop herself gasping. The young man was about six-foot tall and about the same across the shoulders, the coffee tray looked tiny in his enormous hands as he towered over her.

Lady Archer remembered he had spoken.

"Thank you so much...Errol is it? Are you knew Errol?"

Lady Archer prided herself on her ability to talk to the lower classes and was completely unaware that she sounded like a patronising parent when she addressed anyone with less than three houses.

"Your Coffee Lady Archer. I'm am new your ladyship, I started just this week"

The way he talked to her didn't seem right, as though he viewed himself as her superior rather than her waiter. His attitude wrong footed Lady Archer and before she had a chance to reprimand him he was gone leaving her feeling a little confused and flustered by their meeting. It was only once he had gone that she remembered he must have seen not only her thighs but her breasts as well, albeit framed by her expensive lingerie. That thought sent a shiver through her. That black man had seen her most intimate parts, parts of her that were only seen by her husband and only then on the very rare occasions when he could be bothered to sleep in the same room as her. She would definitely have to talk to Hen about him he wasn't at all suitable for the country club! A tiny voice in Helen's head piped up "I hope he liked what he saw" as soon as she thought it she dismissed it as entirely out of hand, why would she think such a thing? She sipped her coffee and tried to ignore the nagging wetness between her thighs.

"Darling you look simply splendid"

Lady Archer addressed her youngest daughter as she sat in the living room of the family home. Samantha Archer was attending yet another debutante ball and was pirouetting around the living room desperate for her Mother's approval. Samantha had been fortunate to take after her Mother rather than her Father in the looks department and was tall and striking, her hair of deepest brown matching her eyes. Samantha had also been blessed with her Mothers legs and breasts, both of which were barely contained within the indecently short black dress that seemed to be all the rage this season. Helen could not believe the transformation from awkward teenager to striking young women that had been wrought in her youngest daughter in the last year of her life. They grow up so fast these days, she thought to herself. Samantha seemed so self-assured now, so confident. She had returned from school barely a week ago having recorded a full set of straight A exam results now, having turned eighteen she was taking a year off before going to university, it was time for her to let her hair down a bit.

"Darling you will be careful won't you? I know what these boys are like at these balls only after one thing"

"Oh Mummy I'm a grown up you know I can look after myself"

Lady Archer raised an eyebrow at that one but let it go. The blare of a horn announced the arrival of Samantha's taxi outside.

"OK just be careful, but darling have a good time won't you. And don't worry I wont wait up for you, now run along"

With that she kissed her youngest daughter on the cheek and watched with a pang of jealousy as she pranced out of the house. Helen couldn't help but admire her daughter's figure as she left, she really had filled out over the last year, she thought to herself almost wistfully. Her thighs were clearly visible under her tiny dress and Lady Archer noted the hint of stocking top as she sashayed down the driveway. One thing Helen always insisted on was good quality underwear for her daughters, something she didn't mind paying for herself. She knew Samantha was wearing a lovely pair of black silk cami-knickers under her dress, they had picked them out together earlier on that evening and matched them with an exquisite suspender belt that had been an eighteenth birthday present from her. Lady Archer caught herself wondering if some lucky lad would get to find out what she was wearing tonight? The illicit thought sent a shiver of pleasure down her spine, she shook herself, what was the matter with her, she had been thinking about sex all day.

Helen decided to pour herself a glass of wine and call Hen, when she hadn't been thinking about sex, Errol had been on her mind, she didn't like his attitude at all. Something she was determined to do something about. She rang Henrietta's private office number.

Helen had known Henrietta nearly all her life and they had been best friends for as long as she could remember. Hen had never been what you could call attractive, she was a large sturdy girl who attracted small bespectacled boys who wanted mothering, she rarely had dates and seemed to be largely overlooked by her male peers. She was an exceptional sports woman in her day though, excelling at show jumping and track and field events. When the two friends had left school it had been Helen who married and Hen, the perpetual bridesmaid, who had looked over the proceedings with a slightly wistful smile. She had never married, much to her parents chagrin and never seemed to have a significant other half and now lived alone except for the two cats she adored.

"H...H...Hello"

"Hen?"

"Mary Oooooh my god... how are you?"

"I'm fine you sounded a bit funny there for a moment, everything OK?"

"I...Oh I'm fine Helen just a bit tied up at the mo"

Was that giggling she could hear in the background?

"Hen stop playing silly buggers, I was just ringing to see if we could do lunch tomorrow? I have something I want to discuss with you"

"Oh...Ohhhhhh yes...that would be fine, darling. Look darling I have to go...Ohhhhhh darling...I'll see you tomorrow"

Lady Archer put the phone down, odd she thought Hen was normally the sole of professionalism when on the phone, what had got into the silly girl?

Henrietta St-John-Smythe replaced the receiver and slumped back in her chair. Lady Archer would of been interested to note that her friends tweed skirt was currently rucked up around her waist exposing her hefty stocking clad thighs and the fact that she had no panties on. Her hairy cunt glistened under the office lighting, showing off her clear arousal and the fact that a rather large black dildo seemed to be forced up inside the folds of intricate skin, stretching her obscenely. Her ankles were tied to each side of the large office chair she occupied, rendering her helpless. Her tweed jacket and white crisp blouse had been ripped off and discarded allowing her large firm white breasts to be exposed to the scrutiny of her tormentor. Across her magnificent cleavage the words "White Bitch" had been written in dark red lipstick. Her face, usually graced with a broad smile seemed, at present to be covered in some sort of sticky liquid.

Inches from her mouth was a large, black throbbing cock, its head weeping sticky liquid which its owner was proceeding to wipe over poor Henrietta's face, something she seemed to actually quiet like. Henrieta wanted that cock in her mouth and a number of other places besides. She knew what she needed to do to get what she wanted and like a poor addicted street urchin desperate for a fix she felt no shame.

"Please can I suck your cock Master Errol, I'll be a good little white bitch for you"

The filth spilling form her mouth thrilled her immeasurably, never in all her days would Henrietta have imagined she would use such filthy language, let alone on one of her employees, a black man to boot.

"Why should I let a saggy old white woman suck my cock?"

He towered over her, his manner so different from when he was serving in the restaurant. Henrietta had realised to late that he was something not quiet right about the young man who had come for the job as waiter, she had interviewed him despite, or was it because of the strange power he seemed to hold over her. It had all gone relatively smoothly, he was eloquent and intelligent, it almost seemed a shame to put him in the restaurant. At the end of the interview when they had gone to shake hands he had pulled her in close and forced his tongue into her mouth. Henrietta had not known how to react, it was so unexpected, before she had a chance to re-group he had his hand up her skirt. To Henrietta's immense shame she was so aroused by this stage that her panties were soaked through and she knew she would not be able to resist his advances. Short moments later before she knew where she was, she was tied up, naked on the floor with his camera clicking and her cunt on show.

"Oh please Master Errol I was born to suck your magnificent cock, I need it, please give it to me"

Henrietta was beside herself with arousal she had been tormented all afternoon, her legs filling with cramp as he sucked her cunt, fingered her ass hole and pinched her nipples until she cried.

"Mmmmm let me think about it whore"

In the past week since Henrietta had given the persuasive Errol the job as waiter she had been completely conquered, she knew she would not say no to whatever depravity he suggested, all she could think about was his big black cock, she would do whatever she needed to get it. She couldn't believe what she had been missing all these years, like a slow leak in a dam that eventually releases a torrent of water Henrietta St-John-Smythe was fast becoming a whore for black cock.

"Please Master Errol the cleaners will be here soon"

"Exactly, I promised them something to play with during the night shift! Your it white bitch"

Henrietta took a moment to assimilate what she had just been told, surely he must be joking. She was still the secretary of this club not some object he could lend out at will to the other members of staff. What had started as a bit of fun had to stop now, being a slave to Errol was one thing but she was risking everything if other people found out about her. Unfortunately for Henrietta Errol took that opportunity to grasp the base of the dildo he had inserted into her sopping cunt, ever so slowly he drew it out of her, leaving her missing its presence, gasping at the loss. She sagged again, all fight suddenly gone from her, she knew she couldn't win, he had pictures of her doing some horrible things and to make things worse she looked as though she was loving every minute of it. She had done things that she had never imagined in her darkest dreams, things that had thrilled her despite her upbringing, things that would spell the end of her tenure as company secretary.

Even now she could hear the clattering of the cleaners trolley coming up the corridor, soon enough the two aged black cleaners would set eyes on Henrietta's most intimate areas. She had already had to speak to both of them about drinking at work and now she had to face them again in slightly different position.

Samantha Archer sat back in the cab, smoothing her dress down as she checked the driver out, a fifty-year-old white guy, easy pickings. During her last year at school Samantha and her friends had started to play a game. It involved them going out on the town with no money and seeing how many drinks they could get out of men for free. Obviously there was a fair amount of flirting involved but that had not been enough for Samantha, she had to go further. She had discovered she loved the thrill of control she was able to exercise over men. They were so sad, a glimpse of stocking top and they would fall over themselves to buy her drinks and take her to shows, whatever they thought it took to get into her panties. Samantha never put out though, she teased and she accepted the praise and favours but she never put out, she was a good girl at heart.

Until one night she was in a dingy bar in one of the less salubrious postcodes, her girlfriends were long gone and she was drunk from all the champagne she had consumed. She had been sitting at the bar, all thighs and tits when an older overweight black guy had stopped to chat to her, he was in his fifties and stank of booze. These aspects made it all the more thrilling for Samantha, she had never been with a black man before and loved to tease older men especially. She had turned the charm on full heat as usual, angling for more drink, hoping for a story to share with her girlfriends, something to elevate her status to that of legend. The guy had called her bluff though, when she had drunk her fill and was starting to get bored she had got up to leave, he had grabbed her and accused her of being a tease and a flirt only after his money, an accusation she could hardly deny. Before she knew what was happening he had hauled her over his knee and lifted her short skirt in front of the whole room and proceeded to spank her. She had struggled and shouted but no one had helped her, they just sat around pointing and laughing at the spoilt little rich girl being humiliated.

Samantha had been spanked like she had never been spanked before, as her cheeks stung from the abuse they were receiving she started to realise that she was becoming very turned on, her thighs were damp, nipples swollen, she was loving every minute of it. The combination of her humiliation and domination by this black man had had a profound effect on the upper class, private school educated girl. Samantha had spent the rest of the evening as a willing slave to the man. She had sat on his lap while he had a hand up her skirt in front of the whole bar, fingering her relentlessly with everyone watching on as the white girl was used by the old fat black man. She had willingly sucked him off in the car park and had not objected in any way when he had fucked her amongst the bins. When he had taken his fill of the young white girl he had told her to fuck off home to her mummy and daddy, she had gone home with come leaking out of her abused cunt and a large satisfied smile on her face. Samantha had finally found what she wanted. She wanted to be controlled completely, used for other people's pleasure. Samantha had realised that what she craved was just the abuse she dished out, she wanted to be subjugated, used and abused, shown off and toyed with by older overweight men in dingy bars. Men who under normal circumstances would have no chance of ever getting near someone of Samantha's Archers upbringing!

During the last few months at school Samantha had been acquired something of a reputation amongst her friends. She was taking things too far, it wasn't enough for her to flirt with a guy and get drinks of him, she had to have the thrill of abuse to make her heart beat faster. Samantha didn't care any more she had found what she wanted and was going to do whatever it took to get it. She knew what she was, a slut, she had been called it enough times in enough bars and pubs, she had nothing to be ashamed of.

She was totally happy with what she was which was more than could be said of her friends and her parents come to that. Samantha loved her poor Mummy but she couldn't help but think that life was passing her by, she was so frustrated and unhappy, Samantha wished there was something she could do to cheer her up. She felt sure she was a naughty girl just like her daughter, she just needed a push in the right direction.

"Where to love?"

"Elephant and castle please and may I sit in the front with you?"

"Sorry love I'm afraid I can't do that, rules"

"Oh I'll be a good girl for you if you let me, sitting in the back is so boring and the views terrible. Oh please let me"

Without waiting for a reply Samantha opened the front door and got in, making sure her dress rode up her stocking clad legs allowing the man an eyeful of her firm silky thighs. She knew he was looking and decided she had better get things started if she was to have a slightly less boring journey into central London.

"Do you like my legs?"

She purred demurely, lisping slightly, playing on the sweet little girl image. She watched as the man started and then recovered immediately.

"Very nice Love"

The cabby had seen a few things over the years and knew that certain young ladies liked to show off and act up a bit and this one was well worth a second look. He did nothing to hide the fact that he was openly ogling her exposed flesh as his cock hardened in his trousers.