The Humiliation of Kyra Florence

"Good girl," he murmured again. "Oh you fucking horny white bitch. Keep sucking it, whore."

She kept going, sliding up and down him, swirling her tongue around his stem, doing anything she could to make his breathing quicken.

"That's right. That's right. Now lick my balls bitch."

She hesitated for just a fraction of a second before ducking her head to lick his balls, looking directly up at him, his penis almost against her forehead. She was lapping at his balls like an animal, pushing up against their weight with her tongue, before taking each one in her mouth in turn, sucking it, making him moan with pleasure.

"Oh yeah. Now suck me again. All the way down."

She plunged her mouth back down over his cock, trying to take as much as she could, her saliva sliding down him and matting the thick black hair of his balls.

"Oh yeah," he moaned again. Then suddenly they heard the door click open and the voice of one of the black girls.

"Oh Jesus Christ!"

There was an intake of breath behind her and then giggling. She slid her mouth off Michaels' cock and looked over her shoulder in shock. Three of the strippers were standing in the doorway, fully dressed. She was completely exposed, her naked back and ass facing towards them as she knelt on the floor at her boss's feet. She knew that they'd seen her practically deep-throating him, her mouth sucking him all the way down his cock towards his balls.

"Sorry Louie, but we gotta get signed off and I ain't waiting for this bitch to finish."

To Kyra's disbelief he said. "Alright," and, gesturing her to get up, he added. "Go and wait in there."

She stood up, her chin wet with her own saliva, and dumbly headed to the door he was pointing to. As she went past him he lazily slapped her ass but he was so strong that the blow made her skip forward like a child, a firm pink imprint of his hand already forming on her skin. She rubbed it and ran through the door as the other girls laughed. He didn't seem to care about them seeing his cock, he just tucked it away and pulled out the form they needed to sign.

The office he'd pointed to was little more than a box room. There was no furniture except for one chair and boxes of filing. Kyra stood there, trembling with shame. A couple of minutes later he came in grinning. "Where were we?"

"I'm not. . ."

He looked at her, leisurely enjoying her naked body once again as though she were a steak that he was about to eat. "Knees bitch," he ordered, tossing her the cushion.

She slowly fell to her knees in front of the chair and he sat down with his legs spread. This time, though, after he'd made her lick his cock all over until it was fully erect again, he fucked her mouth. He was using it as though it were her pussy. The thought made her physically aroused, and she wished he would take her and fuck her properly. Instead he held her by her long hair, pumping her mouth and making her breasts bounce with every thrust. At last he came, in her mouth first, and then, pulling out, all over her face, the last hot jet falling against the base of her slim neck and towards her chest. "Oh yeah," he moaned.

He reached down and spread his own cum over her tits, rubbing it into her nipples, making her moan in turn. She looked up at him yearningly but he abruptly stood, wiping his cock against her face, almost slapping her with its powerful length, before sliding it back into his pants.

"Thanks bitch," he grinned broadly. "Here's your money," he peeled three five dollar bills out of his wallet and handed them to her.

She stood up shakily, her face glistening with his cum. "Where can I clean off?"

"In the dressing room."

"Upstairs? But I mean haven't you got a wet-wipe or a tissue or something that I can use."

"No. I ain't got nothing," he went back through to his office and she followed him.

"Where's my bikini gone?"

He looked at the floor and then chuckled. "What the fuck? It was all screwed up down there where you crawled out of it. Damn bitches must've took it."

She stood there suddenly conscious of her nakedness again, hiding her pussy with one hand and her breasts with the other that still clutched her money. "But why would they do that?"

"Who knows? Damn bitches."

"There must be something in here I can use to. . to wipe myself clean."

"There ain't."

She looked around desperately and then tried wiping the cum off her face with her free right hand, smearing it against her ass and thighs. "You mean I have to go out through the club like this and upstairs to the changing room?"

"Do what you want."

He'd already lost interest in her. He sat back down on his big swivel chair and looked back at his computer screen. She stood there, utterly defeated. There wasn't a mirror in the office but she knew what she must look like. Her naked body was shiny with sweat, the blonde hair at her pussy was matted and her face, neck and breasts were smeared with her bosses' cum. Slowly she crept out of the office into the club. As soon as she did so she saw the cleaner, the same one she'd seen when she first arrived. She looked up from her mop for the merest fraction of a second and then looked away.

The click of Kyra's heels was humiliating loud as she walked across the empty club to the stairs. She didn't turn around but she knew that the middle-aged woman must be looking at her naked ass with contempt.

As she walked up the stairs she could hear the chatter of the strippers. When she walked in there was six of them. By now they were all fully-clothed, just applying their make-up. They looked at her in disbelief and then burst out laughing.

"Someone took my bikini," she said.

"Girl," one of them gasped through her laughter. "You got cum on your face."

She blushed again. She tried to make her way through them to the sink and then saw her cum splattered face in the mirror.

"How much did he give you?" one of them demanded.

"I'm not a whore."

"So why you got money in your hand?"

"I just. . .He just gave me some money for a taxi."

"You blew him for taxi fare? Just where do you live? San Francisco?" She grabbed at Kyra's free hand and tore away the three notes.

"Fifteen dollars! She blew Michaels for fifteen dollars!"

"Oh my God!"

"Tell me something," said one of the black girls she'd seen on the stairs. "Did he make you lick his balls?"

"Give me my money back!"

"Not till you tell us."

"Please, just give me my money back."

"It's a simple question. Did you lick his balls?"

"Yes. Alright. I licked his balls."

The laughter got even louder. "Kyra licked his balls and sucked his dick, let him cum all over her face. For fifteen dollars. You are one generous lady Kyra! I see how you got that great job you have!"

She shuddered. "Please give me my money back."

The girl contemptuously let it flutter from her fingers on to the floor and Kyra bent over to get it. As her ass went up in the air the strippers laughed even louder.

"Dirty bitch."

She wasn't sure if she could face going back to work the next day but she knew she still needed money by Friday. When she saw Michaels he acted like nothing had happened. He barely even looked at her.

Throughout her shift, though, she realised she was finding excuses to be near him, to try and attract his attention. During her break, as she thought about the way she'd kneeled naked before him, her pussy suddenly became wet. If he asked her to she would spread her legs and let him fuck her. She knew that and it made her feel simultaneously ashamed and aroused. At the end of her shift she went in to collect her wages and stopped in her tracks. The same slim black girl who'd asked if she'd licked his balls was now naked, straddling his chair, bouncing up and down on his big cock. He grinned and, without losing his rhythm, he slapped the girl's shiny, bouncing black ass. Kyra's pay packet was on the desk next to the girl's splayed hand. She took it and walked out.

For the rest of the week she did her best to ignore him, trying not to look at him or even think about him. Every now and then, though, he would have to speak to her. Sometimes he would cup her ass in his big black hand while he gave her orders, or he would slap it suddenly when he wanted her to move, making her skip forward humiliatingly again. She wondered why he didn't fuck her. He seemed like the kind of man who fucked every woman he could.

By Friday she had the money she'd needed. She could quit. Just one more week, she thought. Just to get back on my feet.

That week, too, though, he barely looked at her. Meanwhile she kept thinking about the way his cum had felt as it had splattered against her face and her naked breasts. The next Friday she came into his office again at the end of the shift. He didn't look up.

"Mr Michaels?"

"Hmm?"

"I'm probably going to quit soon."

"Sure."

His heavy, almost bald head was bent over a pad he was scribbling on, a biro clutched in his massive, scarred fist. She moved a few steps closer, feeling her nipples becoming erect, stretching the filmy fabric of her bikini. "I wanted to ask you something."

"What?" he looked up, annoyed.

"The reason I can't be a dancer?"

"Yes."

"Is it because I'm. . .I'm not attractive enough?"

He laughed. "No, you attractive. I told you. It's the dancing that's the problem. You dance like the whitest women alive. Anyway you're a businesswoman ain't you? That's what you told me."

"I know. You just. . .I just wanted to know."

He looked her up and down with a reflex glance at her bikini briefs and chuckled again. "Girl, you're wet. I ain't never met such a horny bitch as you."

She looked down. It was true she was wet, although she couldn't see how he could tell. There was no tell-tale dark patch yet. But it was as though he controlled her vagina. He could switch it on when he wanted to, just by looking at her. She blushed hard.

"I can't help you baby," he turned back to his computer. "I'm kinda busy."

"I know, I'm sorry but I was thinking," she moved another step closer to his desk.

He sighed and put his pen down. "What was you thinking?"

"I was wondering if I could wear a different. . .uniform when I serve the food. I mean, still something sexy. I understand what this place is all about. But this bikini. . .I don't know. . .I think we could do better. Something sexier even."

"You look pretty dumb in that bikini. It don't even fit right."

"I know."

"You look like a dumb whore."

"I know."

"And that's the idea, bitch. Don't you think there's something kinda sexy about taking a smart, college-educated white bitch like you and making her dress up in something that don't even cover her ass or her wet pussy? Every guy in the club can see you didn't choose them clothes for yourself. You was made to wear them. You a bitch. You a whore who's here to serve them. That's what they think. You understand me, whore?"

Kyra did understand but she still didn't walk away.

"Alright then," he said after a few moments. "Take the bikini off if you don't like it."

It was, she knew, what she'd been waiting for him to say. She breathed hard and then took off the top and pulled the briefs down.

"Sit down here." He patted his desk next to his computer.

She walked slowly round to his side of the desk and slid her ass on to the cool wood, her feet dangling off the side. He nodded at her approvingly. "You're so horny it hurts."

She didn't say anything.

"Alright, play with yourself, let me see you stroke that pink pussy."

Kyra opened her legs and arched her back, thrusting her naked breasts towards him. She began by gently running her fingers over her clitoris, breathing harder. Then she played with her nipples with one hand, sucked the fingers of the other hand in her mouth and began stroking herself slowly and rhythmically with her wet middle finger. She half-closed her eyes and put her head back but when she glanced at him he wasn't even looking at her. He'd gone back to looking at his computer screen. In frustration she put one foot against his massive thigh but he didn't even seem to notice. She left it there, pressing gently with her toes, while carrying on stroking herself, faster now, moaning slightly.

After a few moments he turned to look at her again. "How badly do you want me to fuck you?"

"So badly."

"You want my big black dick in your tight white pussy?"

"Yes."

"Say it."

"I want your big black dick in my tight white pussy."

"You want to be fucked by a nigger."

"Yes."

"Say it."

"I want to be fucked by a nigger."

He stood up and the wheels of his chair squeaked against the wooden floor. "Little white girls shouldn't use that word."

"You told me to."

"You a racist, bitch?"

"No! You told me to!" She was still stroking herself, moaning, looking at him, half-frightened, half turned-on. She could see that there was an enormous erection steepling his pants.

"Maybe I will fuck you. Fuck you hard. Teach you a lesson. Is that what you want?"

"Yes!" she squealed.

"What do you want?"

"I want to be fucked hard and taught a lesson."

He took each of her ankles and roughly spread her legs wide. "Why do you need to be taught a lesson?"

She sat there with her legs spread, one pressed against the side of his computer, the other in the air off the edge of the desk. "Because I'm a dumb white bitch."

He peeled off his shirt and she moaned again at the sight of his body. Then he pulled out his cock. It looked even bigger than when she'd sucked it. She wriggled her ass against the desk in pure frustration, leaving a damp mark of her sweat and pussy juices. Her ran his hands up her thighs and she arched her back again. "What are you Kyra?" he asked, stopping his hands just before they reached her pussy, spreading her legs as wide as they'd go, brushing his thumbs just below her pussy lips.

"I'm a stupid white bitch," she moaned. She'd spent all week imagining how he'd fuck her. She knew she wouldn't ride him like the black girl had ridden him. She would be taken with her legs in the air or on all fours like a bitch. She would be fucked hard and used like a whore. She moaned again, louder, in anticipation as he stepped closer to the desk, his big black pole moving towards her exposed pussy. Then, suddenly, he flipped her over, making her heavy breasts slap against the desk. He held her roughly by her hips and slid his big cockhead up and down her slit. "Oh God, please," she moaned.

"What is it bitch?"

"Don't tease me. Fuck me. Please."

"You begging me, bitch?"

"Please!"

"Is that a yes?"

"Yes I'm begging you. I'm a little white whore. I'm a dumb white cunt. I'm whatever you want me to say, just fuck me, please, please fuck me."

"Dumb white cunt," he laughed softly. Then he slapped her ass hard before driving his cock inside her tight, wet pussy. It filled her.

"Oh God," she squealed.

He slapped her again. "You like that, you dumb white cunt?"

"Oh God yes."

Slowly at first, he was fucking her. Facing the door now she could see that it was open. The other girls must have come in while she was sitting there, naked, facing him and stroking herself. They had probably been able to hear her admitting that she was a dumb white cunt. But Kyra didn't care. She was crying out now, squealing as he fucked her hard. His dick was drilling her tight pussy and with every thrust her erect nipples slapped against the desk. Her whole body bounced. She was covered with a sheen of sweat and every time she squealed he spanked her harder, making her naked ass quiver. Again and again he fucked her until, at last, she came so loudly that the whole club must have been able to hear her. But he hadn't finished. He flipped her on to her back again and pushed her ankles up to either side of his thick neck, her scarlet painted toe-nails pointing towards the ceiling. Then he fucked her again, sliding her naked ass backwards and forwards on the desk, impaling her on the thick pylon of his cock. She shook her head backwards and forwards as the sensations exploded inside of her, her heels banging against his shoulders.

"Oh God, please," she moaned.

He held both tits in his hands as he slid her expertly back and forth. Then, to her surprise, he did pull her on top of him. He made her straddle him on the swivel chair, facing him. She eagerly bounced for him, just as the black girl had, crying out uncontrollably at the top of her voice. He made her bounce, digging his fingers into her ass hard, pulling her close to lick savagely at her tits. At last, when she thought she couldn't take anymore, he pulled her off him. He made her kneel on all fours on the chair with her ass in the air and her hands flat on the desk. Then he took her standing up, pulling her head back by her long hair. He was panting too, now, as he used her. She could tell he was close. She looked over her shoulder at him and he spanked her again, the sound echoing through the open door and out into the empty club. He was getting faster, gripping her by her breasts and then by her waist.

"Oh yeah," he moaned triumphantly as he came. His hot cum spurted inside her, filling her pussy. She hadn't even thought to ask him to use protection. She looked over her shoulder at him again, her mouth still open, panting, her body sticky and shiny in the light from his desk-lamp. He pulled his cock out slowly and she gasped. When he spun the chair round so that she was facing him she didn't even need to be asked. She obediently ducked her head and licked his cock until it was completely clean, tasting the salt of his cum and her own wetness.

"Little whore," he stroked her hair almost affectionately and then put his cock away and zipped himself up.

The next Monday when she came in to work she remembered what he'd said as she put on the deliberately humiliating uniform of the canary yellow bikini. It made her pussy suddenly gush. When she saw him, as she'd expected, he barely acknowledged her. It wasn't until Wednesday that he touched her again. While giving her and the strippers a talk he almost absent-mindedly put his hand down the back of her bikini briefs, openly fondling her in front of them. At the end of her shift, though, when she went, trembling with anticipation, into his office he merely tore her bikini top off, pushed her on to her knees and fucked her mouth. The taste of cum as she obediently swallowed it made her pussy gush again but when he'd finished he just told her to get up off her knees. Then he slapped her ass hard and told her to go home.

She couldn't believe she was letting herself be humiliated like this. And even enjoying it. But by Friday she knew that if he didn't fuck her again she would have to beg him. She wouldn't be able to resist. She would have to crawl on all fours and hand him any last shreds of dignity and pride that she'd retained.

At the end of her shift, though, he called her into his office. "Hey Kyra," he said. "I need to tell you something." It was the first time he'd called her Kyra since her interview.

"What is it?" She said. "You know I've been thinking about you ever since you first touched me. I don't know what it is that you do to me."

"There ain't no secret. You're a dirty white whore. But. . ."

She took another step closer and tore her bikini top off. "Please don't make me beg this time. I need you to fuck me. You can do anything you want to me just please fuck me."

He looked at his watch. "Alright. Panties off whore."

She pulled her bikini briefs down for him and stood there naked.

"Open that drawer," he ordered. "And take out the white tube."

She opened the drawer and there was a slim bottle of lube in there. "Oh no. . .You want to ass-fuck me don't you? I don't do that."

"Shut up bitch. Squeeze a little of that lube into your hand and come over here."