Lady Helen Archer: Black Cock Whore

"Mmmmmm I'm glad you like them they go all the way up to my little pussy"

She inched the dress higher, fully exposing the silk stocking tops to the sweating cab driver.

"I'm very hot do you mind if I play with my pussy while you drive along?"

"Bloody hell, you play all you want but don't blame me if we have a crash OK"

Samantha's hand travelled over the elastic of her expensive panties and she sank her middle finger deep inside her steaming cunt. Her other hand went to her breasts and groped them, pinching at the nipple cruelly, causing a moan to escape from her lips, all the time her eyes never left the cab drivers face as she pouted at him.

"You remind me of my daddy, would you mind if I called you Daddy? He likes to watch me play with myself as well, I'm his favourite little girl"

The poor cab driver was lost for words now as Samantha reached over and playfully ran her hands over his throbbing cock before starting to undo his straining zipper.

"Oooooh Daddy that is a big willy"

The door to Henrietta St-John-Smythe's office opened and two black men both of about sixty years of age entered, dressed in dirty blue boiler suits, they were both over weight and smelly and couldn't be further from the vision of black health that Errol encapsulated. Henrietta could smell the booze on them already as they both eyed up their captive boss, licking their lips in anticipation. Despite her humiliation and revulsion Henrietta found her eyes wandering down to the rapidly hardening cocks that their boiler suits contained

"Glad you could make it boys, she's all yours for the night all I ask is that she is here when I return in the morning OK?"

"Sure Errol we won't let you down. Thanks for this man we won't forget it you can be sure"

With that Errol turned and left and after winking at his White Bitch he was gone.

"Well...well look at what we got ourselves here, a white bitch, look Billy its says so on her tits, how sweet. How did you get that name Miss precious club secretary?"

Henrietta fought back tears as she was forced to swallow her pride

"E...Errol thinks I act like a bitch in heat"

Henrietta burned with shame and humiliation, feelings made all the worse by the two men openly laughing at her predicament. They were both unzipping their boiler suits now, exposing their rapidly hardening cocks for her hungry eyes, despite herself she could feel the familiar heat returning to her thighs as she eyed the black cock that she knew would play a large part in the rest of her night.

"I bet white bitch would like to suck the black cock wouldn't she? I tell you what why don't you bark like a bitch to show us what you want!"

Henrietta didn't think she could sink any lower as she breathed in, preparing to Bark like a dog for these scumbags, the same men she had disciplined not a week ago for misconduct. Once again her addiction took over, making her perform acts she would not have dared to contemplate a few weeks earlier.

"Woof Woof"

"What a good little bitch, maybe we should take you for a walk as you have been so good"

Henrietta obediently got onto her hands and knees, her subservience almost second nature now as she assumed the position of animal in the presence of the men she had previously ruled over.

"Good puppy now crawl over here and lick these black lollies we have for you"

Lady Helen Archer stopped trying to deny how she felt, she was horny that's all there was to it, perfectly natural for a woman her age. But what to do about it, her husband was away in town and not expected back for a week at least, even then the chances were he wouldn't be interested. With Samantha out of the way Helen felt she might be due some fun of her own. She poured herself another glass of wine and sat herself down, feeling slightly tipsy and a little hot around the collar. She had been flustered all day, ever since that incident with the waiter. She had a horrible feeling that her exposure to him was what had started all this nonsense. She could not explain the fact that showing a complete stranger her underwear had aroused her immeasurably, in the dark recesses of her mind she knew his colour had something to do with it. He had appeared so powerful, despite the fact that he was supposed to be serving her, Helen felt a horrible compulsion to be at his feet instead, serving the hardness between his powerful thighs!

She couldn't get his penis out of her mind, she had seen it only briefly, hidden though it was, but it had had an effect on her that she was ashamed to admit. She sipped her wine and shut her eyes, imagining a role reversal in which she was the waitress and he the diner. Her hand slipped under her dress exposing her silk panties as she sought to alleviate some of the yearning between her thighs. She was shocked at her wetness as her fingers pierced the folds of skin, releasing the fluid from within her, causing her panties to become even damper.

Her mind was creating a scene now in which Errol was seated, taking dinner with a companion who Helen couldn't quiet make out as she was turned away momentarily. He was looking her up and down telling her what a fine figure of a woman she was, touching her thighs, feeling them in front of the other customers, teasing her stocking tops, making her groan as his hands went between her thighs, mirroring her own real life actions. She was ignoring the stares of the other diners as her tormentor exposed her to them, the looks of disapproval as she relished his touch and also her humiliation. Her fingers worked frantically in her cunt now as her orgasm, so needed today, approached. In her minds eye Errol has his hands on her cunt and was turning to his partner, asking her opinion on this fine looking waitress that he was undoing in front of the other seated diners. As the girl turned Helen gasps with shock, her breath catches in her throat at just the moment she is about to come, not only in her dream but in real life as well. Errol's partner is Samantha, her own daughter. Samantha was watching her precious Mummy not only acting the slut for this black man but also in the throes of a violent orgasm in front of a room full of people.

With a groan Helen slumped back in the chair, her body shaking as she struggled to reconcile the power of her orgasm and the worrying images her fevered mind had imagined for her pleasure. Spent, like a rag doll with the stuffing hanging out of her, sweat pricking on her breasts and between her open thighs. She was too tired to register the shock her fantasy has caused her, her own daughter and a black man, both of them seemingly in control of her and her powerless to resist. She felt ill, revolted at herself, how could she orgasm to such a sick and twisted fantasy? She looked down at herself, what a mess, blouse open, breasts bulging from her half cup black satin bra. Her thighs spread wide open, stockings and soaked panties on full view, just like a slut, she thought. The use of that word, albeit in her head only sent a fresh thrill through her leaving her to wonder whether one orgasm will be enough tonight, she is at a total loss to explain the strength of her feelings

As a little girl Samantha Archer had been told never to talk with her mouth full, all she could currently manage, as her lipstick covered lips sawed back and forth over the throbbing cock, was a muffled groaning noise. Samantha was in her element, on her knees, sucking on a thick black cock while each of her dainty hands massaged another one to full strength, ready to replace the one in her mouth when it inevitably exploded deep inside her throat.

She had been in the pub all of five minutes before she had spotted a group of men drinking in a corner. She had never been to this particular pub before but knew it was where the men who couldn't find work usually ended up. There were five of them in all, drowning their sorrows and wondering what they had done to deserve such a poor lot in life. Samantha had sat at the bar waiting for one of them to make a move on her, eyes twinkling as she flashed her panties at them. One of their number spotted her and beckoned her over, she complied demurely, eyes cast down shyly, submissively. As she sat down with them she had lifted her dress once again showing her expensive lingerie and the by now very obvious damp patch on her pretty panties. The man she had sat next to had immediately got the message and had groped her roughly in front of his mates, to their obvious amazement and then amusement. Grinning lewdly as he felt her soaked gusset and roughly handled her coltish thighs, wanting to make the most of the situation before the stuck up girl changed her mind. The others didn't need much encouragement and within minutes Samantha's dress had been pulled down revealing her firm tits to the slavering onlookers. Samantha herself was in a state of high arousal as she became a plaything for the assembled men.

Over the next ten minutes the entire group, under the ever-watchful gaze of the barman had blatantly groped Samantha in full view of the other patrons. Hands pawing at her young flesh, pinching her aching nipples, stripping her, delving inside her sopping cunt making her moan like he whore she knew she was. The barman locked the doors ensuring that the party remained strictly private, chances like this came along all to seldom to waste it on the riff raff.

That had been over an hour ago. Samantha had worked her way through all the clientele by now, sucking each one until nature drew its own conclusion. Her stockings were shredded beyond all recognition, panties long taken as a prize. Cum ran down between her breasts, dripping from her chin as her mouth failed to cope with the volume of sticky fluid being shot deep inside it. She had lost count of the number of men she had satisfied, she had no idea how many of them had returned for seconds or thirds all she could think about was cock inside her, penetrating her making her whole.

Thirty minutes later when all the men in the pub had had their fill of Samantha she was unceremoniously thrown out onto the street and told to return the following night for more of the same. Samantha had never felt so alive and so used, a grin plastered her sticky face as she made her way home, her come soaked body tingling all over as she hailed another cab for the return journey to relative normality.

Henrietta St-John-Smythe crawled up yet another of the clubs long, wooden floor boarded, hallways. Her own stockings, like Samantha's, were in tatters, ruined by her crawling on the floor like an animal. All that remained of the conservative clothing she had put on for work that morning was her heels and stockings, everything else had been discarded along the cleaner's route round the building. The two men who currently ruled Henrietta's life had been having a great time. Little cleaning had got done but both of them had consumed a fair amount of booze and had more than their fare share of use of Henrietta's most intimate body parts.

In the dark recesses of her hormone-drenched mind Henrietta knew she had loved it all. She had loved it when they had inserted a brooms handle in her aching cunt and made her sweep the lobby on her hands and knees with it protruding from her in an unsightly manner. She had loved it when they had tied her to the janitors trolley and made her pull them along on it, all the time barking like a like a dog in need of its dinner. As her tormentors rained blows down upon her upturned ass urging her on with stinging swats to her raised rump. Most of all though she had loved it when they had fucked her until she couldn't take any more, her mind and body screaming for an end to the sweet abuse it was receiving. What remained of her will had been swept away that night, she was a plaything a toy and she had learned to love it. She knew that sooner or later their shift would finish and she would be returned to her office to await the return of her Master. When he found her the last remaining vestiges of her propriety would be gone, fucked out of her. Henrietta knew she would be asking for more time with the janitors in the future.

Samantha fumbled with the lock. She was exhausted after having to let the taxi driver fuck her for her fare, she could feel his come rolling down the insides of her sticky thighs. She needed sleep now more than anything else a chance for her abused body to rest and recuperate. As she opened the door and stepped into the hallway of her parents imposing country manor house she could clearly see into the living room. Despite the evenings activities Samantha Archer gasped at the sight that greeted her on the armchair in the living room. Her own Mother was fast asleep, nothing to out of the ordinary there, what did catch Samantha's eye however was the fact that her prim and proper Mother was in a state of undress not to dissimilar to that of her darling daughter. Her bra was on full view, straining to contain her firm breasts. Stocking tops were clearly to be seen under the hitched up Armani dress. Most shocking of all was the enormous damp patch on her Mothers panties, clearly visible above the delectable stocking clad thighs.

Samantha stood rooted to the spot, drinking in the vision of her own Mother virtually naked and clearly having been involved in some sort of sexual activity. Samantha was exhausted but not to exhausted to let an opportunity like this pass her by. It was obvious to her now that her oh so reserved, stand offish, prim and repressed Mother had hidden depths to her as yet only guessed at personality. Samantha wondered when the poor woman had last been fucked, not for some time she suspected.

As she stood there surveying the vision of middle aged womanhood in front of her Samantha found herself becoming aroused once more. She and her friends had played with each other many times. It was sort of a right of passage at boarding school. One of the older girls picked a new girl as a servant for the first term and the chores always involved some sort of sexual slavery as well as the domestic version. Many was the time Samantha had found herself wondering what her own Mother would be like in the sack, Mummy had gone to the same boarding school and must of gone thorough the same trials as the girls who attended now. Not for the first time that night Samantha hitched her skirt up exposing her sticky, torn stockings and her cunt, leaking as it was a fair amount of cab drivers come.

Quickly, Samantha slipped a finger inside the slick folds of skin, coating it in her own juices and those of the cab drivers. She then offered the finger up to her Mothers slightly parted lips, her heart had virtually stopped beating as she dared not even breath, in case some sound awoke her sleeping Mother. Tentatively she offered the sticky finger to her lips, brushing them ever so slightly and then withdrawing them. Helen Archer moaned, her head moving slightly as if it wanted to take the finger inside its mouth. Samantha slipped her fingers inside Helen's mouth, the sticky goo on her fingers rubbing off on her lips and tongue. Samantha's other hand was busy under her own dress as she frantically rubbed her clit, juices streaming from within her, her own orgasm fast approaching. Despite the fact that Helen was asleep she was sucking on her daughter's fingers, moaning her arousal, Samantha could only wonder at what sort of dreams her Mother was having as her mouth slurped obscenely at her daughters fingers.

Samantha could clearly see her Mother's own juices once again seeping through her exquisite panties. She wanted to touch her, finger her, make her groan like a slut, just like her darling daughter had done earlier on in the night. She didn't dare touch her any more than she already was though if her Mother awoke it would be a disaster. There was no way she could explain her actions to her, no matter how many glasses of wine dearest mummy had consumed that night. Her fingers were a blur now as she bucked against them, her other hand toying with her Mother's now sticky lips, ensuring every drop of fluid was sucked of the sticky digits.

Samantha bit her tongue as she could feel her orgasm rising inside her, she had to keep control or else she risked being discovered in a state of undress and arousal with one hand in her cunt and one in her Mothers mouth. Finally she came, wave after wave of pleasure rolling over her, she steadied herself, eyes shut as the last ripples of pleasure played down her spine. Samantha slowly withdrew her fingers from Helen's pouting mouth, they had been sucked clean. She straightened herself and tip toed upstairs, wondering if her Mother would realise that her own daughter had come while she had been asleep dreaming her own sordid fantasies.

Helen Archer pulled into the country club car park looking slightly rough round the edges. She had awoken on a chair in the living room, slightly dishevelled to say the least and with a very funny taste in her mouth. She had slept fitfully, her dreams punctuated with images of her Daughter and a series of faceless black men, all of whom were humiliating Helen with the help of Samantha. The worst part for Helen was the obvious arousal the dreams caused her, her panties had been soaked in her arousal, the intensity of feeling was almost too much for her to bear.

Helen was in heat, there was no other explanation for her behaviour, she couldn't keep her hands off her body. The entire journey had been taken up by her playing with her nipples and stroking her thighs, wishing it was Errol doing these things to her. She had felt so naughty leaving one more button than usual undone on her blouse. Her skirt had ridden up when she got in the car and she had left it where it was, heart beating faster at the realisation that anyone looking in on her could see her panties and stockings. What was turning her on more than anything though was the thought of Errol seeing her, her pale thighs, her breasts, she wanted to see his dark skin contrasting with her own. All thoughts of having him disciplined and fired had gone from her head to be replaced with her desire to show off for him. Impress him with her figure show him, and herself, that she was still a desirable woman.

As she parked her car, wheels crunching on the gravel, she noticed an extremely tall, elderly black gentleman in the country club livery. He was very fit looking for his age and must have been sixty if he was a day. His hair was going grey, giving it a sort of peppercorn look, he was also very broad and still looked as though he kept his stomach in shape. That was odd, she thought, where was the usual parking attendant? He had been a slightly doddery old gent who had been at the club since he was a boy. Had he to been replaced with a black man, the thought of it stirred something within Helen, her mind immediately conjuring up fresh images of her abuse, this time at the hands of the much older black man.

She closed her eyes and imagined herself on her hands and knees in the car park, her tongue lapping at the man's shoes as he watched on with an arrogant sneer on his face. In her mind she could see the other club members pointing and laughing at her as she bent to lick the leather footwear, her ass on display for all to see as she was thoroughly humiliated by the older black man. She had no idea where her need for humiliation had sprung from, but it was becoming a major feature of her fantasies, her position of wealth and power meaning nothing as she was subjugated and treated like an animal.

Tyrone Jackson hadn't believed his son, Errol, when he had told him all about the country club. He found it very hard to believe that it was filled to the brim with wealthy white women with nothing else to do all day but sip tea and chat about the state of the property market. He had found it even harder to believe when Errol had told him about Henrietta being his toy to play with as he saw fit. He had also been slightly suprised when his son told him he could get a job straight away at the club, all arranged by Henrietta of course.