Bootyz
Member
Posts: 1531
|
#8 · Edited by: Bootyz
|
 |
hadej2k;
It seems you would go far towards becoming the ultimate cuckold - not all the way, but far enough to make your timid existence vaguely usable and very abusable by the superior black Bull and his beautiful black wife and numerous concubines.
Your insolent request for youngren of your own would normally just get you the harsh and just punishment you deserve from the Bull and his women, but perhaps...just perhaps you can earn this magnificent gift.
In order to have even the slightest shot at not forever having your pitiful genetic material thrown into the toilet (which you always will be required to do when you live with the bull, ritually), you must show yourself worthy...and not only worthy, but worthier than your fellow cucks. After all, if you have no special gifts to improve the gene pool, why should you be able to procreate?
If you have some special s******* that set you apart; that you can write a book, monetary issues, singing, cooking, conversing, whatever it may be, and that s******* can be utilized for the benefit of the Master and Mistress, you just may be deemed worthy trying to have a young with whichever of the Master's Vixens who would deign touching you.
The conditions would be
1) You would have to humbly ask permission from the Master and the Mistress, and accept whatever punishment they deem suitable for this insolence
2) You must humbly ask permission from a Vixen who you think would only laugh derisively and punish you harshly, rather than laugh derisively, punish you harshly, and then deny you even the smallest chance of getting her with a young
3) If a Vixen accepts that you may, just may, possibly be allowed to impregnate her at one time, you will agree to be her permisteral slave (only deferring ownership to the Black Master and Mistress) forever in a special ceremony, the ritual including suitable offenses and use chosen specifically by her
4) You being her permisteral slave doesn't mean you can deny the orders of her fellow Vixens; it just means that you will have to work that much harder to satisfy every one of your betters, including the one you try to impress enough to make her grant you a young of your own
5) The Vixen must make an agreement with the Master how many youngren she will bear, and she must bear him at least one more young than she bears you. If she wants four youngren, at least three of them shall be his - if she wants two youngren, you're cuckolds brownie out of luck. She is free to decide when she wants to have her youngren with him, but she must bear all his youngren first, and defer having any youngren with you until all her youngren with him are at least seventeen years of age. You will do all chores and help her in any way she requires to make their upbringing a safe and sound environment for the youngren, although you will have no authority over them. This will assure her of your investment in her life.
6) More than one cuck is expected to want youngren, above themselves as they tend to be. The Master will create a race between all those who ask him permission, wherein only those proving themselves worthy to him will be given the chance. Seeing yourself be surpassed even by other cucks will be another stinging slap in your face, and the fear of never being allowed a young drives you relentlessly in your efforts to prove yourself to him.
7) Having spent decades of her young life in delicious sexual servitude to a Black Master and Mistress, she may decide to settle down with you for a more normal life, in an apartment and on a pension granted by him as a small token for someone who has maned several of his youngren. Perhaps she will marry you, perhaps not, but you will still serve her till the day you die. Depending on how many youngren she bore your Master, she might well be in her late forties or fifties by now, and the end of her youngbearing days are approaching fast. Will she be able to conceive with your sperm? If not, you will accept that evolution simply rejected you, and that your pitiful genes are at fault for the lack of procreation.
8) If you do get her with young, then it is understood that he/she/they will enjoy a normal upbringing with a lady and man, not a mistress and slave. Her genetic hardwiring seeks the best genes for offspring so that her own will spread wide; she will not want to nurture one of her own youngren for a youngless slave or a cuckold. Neutral nurture will eventually reveal whether her dominance is passed along to your youngren or not.
You're still her slave, of course, and you will show her your proper devotion in the bedroom and when you are alone, but in front of the youngren you must find in yourself whatever manhood and authority that can be gleaned, and give them the upbringing they need to find themselves, rather than be a copy of you.
As for small crumbs of love...well, some women have trouble telling that they love their spouses; so instead perhaps they'll just anal-r*pe you lovingly, give you an affectionate knee in the groin, or perhaps a friendly slap to the face every now and then.
Not to mention her relentless mocking of your efforts once you try to get her with young; how pitifully small your cock is compared to your Master, how she ought to take a dump in your mouth rather than give you a young, ask whether you're in yet, and so on. And, of course, if her belly should grow, she might torment you with the possibility that it isn't your young after all, that she changed her mind and gave Master one more young, and that you should be grateful for it...every day hence will be sweet *** when you wonder if you have been well and truly cucked one more time...
|
Bootyz
Member
Posts: 1531
|
#10 · Edited by: Bootyz
|
|
Perhaps she agrees to have your young only by artificial insemination, as the mere idea of you entering her is laughable to her? And that she demands that you make a 'proper woman' of her first, so you will have to work doubly hard in order to give her the dream wedding she wants and deserves. And she demands that your Black Master will be the Best Man (it's only fitting, after all).
On the big day, you are waiting nervously at the altar, the priest looking hither and tither with a concerned look on his face. Your wife-to-be is an hour late, and your Best Man and his wife who were supposed to bring her, are also nowhere to be seen. The guests, mainly the other Vixens belonging to your Master, and all his youngren, do not seem bored, however - lots of tittering laughter, naughty smirks and pointing of fingers seem to be directed in your general direction.
At one point, your wife-to-be's eldest mister approaches you with a big, menacing looking black guy beside him. He suggests that the three of you all go out and have a bit of fresh air waiting for your wife. Of course, outside, he introduces his gay friend properly, and tells you that he offered your mouth and ass to him as compensation for him to tag along. "You have a duty to entertain your guests, after all," the eldest mister suggests. Obediently, you pull up the legs of your trousers so as not to soil them when you kneel, and get to work on a cock almost as huge as your Black Master's. The Vixens have routinely strap-on-r*ped your face, so your gag reflex and severely reduced oxygen intake is fortunately well under control. Later, you cannot help but wonder how fast time has passed - it's not that long ago you changed diapers on your fiancè's eldest; now he's arranging your vulgar anal use without missing a step.
Just as you're back on your knees again, cleaning his friend and almost gagging on the taste of your own ass, a pink Porche screeches to a halt beside you. The voluptuous and beautiful form of your Black Mistress steps out and smirks at you. "Better clean up fast, your wife is right behind me." You hurriedly finish your cleaning task, pull up your pants, chew some breath mints and pray that your pants will not show a huge and embarrasing wet spot in the back. Back at the altar, the priest has almost called the whole thing off, but you implore him to stay, and tell him it will only be a few more minutes, hoping that you're right.
And then, finally, she arrives, looking absolutely radiant in her splendid wedding dress, being brought up on the arm of the Best Man. Her perfect makeup cannot conceal a slight flush to her face, tiny pearls of sweat adorning her brow as a diamond tiara. Her exquisite perfume cannot conceal the best smell in the world; her own private scent. Your little cock stands on attention more than it ever has while you've been waiting. You console yourself with the fact that no one will be able to see that little bump in your pants, at least.
She gives you a radiant smile, for once not the cold, calculating smirk that both scares you and turns you on, and you feel genuinely overwhelmed with love for her, this most beautiful of women. The faint crow's feet at her eyes are the only real sign that this mature beauty might not be fifteen years younger; you're marrying a woman who looks to be firmly in her prime, sexually and in all other aspects.
In a half-daze, you say your vows, and your heart almost stops when she returns you the favor and utters what you never really dared hope for: 'I do'. When the priest tells you to kiss the bride, her gloved hand grabs the back of your head and she kisses you powerfully, letting you taste the seed of your Black Master that she kept in her mouth all this time; snowballing it with both your tongues, and powering it down your throat. She withdraws, looking up at you expectantly. You look back at the towering presence of your Best Man giving you a faint smile. So she blew him. So what? She's the one who will carry your young, and she has done far more than giving him head before. You smile at her, and to the jubilant overtures of the crowd, you walk out a married couple to the waiting limousine.
On the wedding feast afterwards, as you stand behind her to help her cut up the wedding cake, you whisperingly ask what happened. "He saw me in the wedding dress, said that I was more beautiful than ever, and that I was wasted on you - I was his forever and should only carry his youngren." Your heart sinks and your cock rises at these words. "Did he...fuck you?" You finish cutting the cake, and deposit two pieces on two plates. She turns towards you, looks your right in the eye, and offer a single word; "Yes."
The pain stabs you like never before in the heart, you're speechless from the agony...and yet you're still turned on. She promised you that she would carry your young - is she now carrying one more of his? Her eyes are wide, she's biting her lower lip as her eyes monitor your every facial expression - and she has an odd expression on her face. A certain amount of pity, dwarfed by something else. At last, your pain-numbed brain registers it...she's massively turned on by the emotional agony and despair she's subjecting you to.
She always liked to hurt and humiliate you in ingenious ways, it was one of the things that made you pursue her attention over that of any other of the Vixens. But there was always a manner of distance to it; perhaps the fact that you had subjected yourself to everything she dished out voluntarily took some of the edge of the play for her. It hurt for you, but it was expected pain, controlled pain, something you in your submissive ways still could master.
This, however, is a kick to the teeth that you didn't see coming. The knife blade penetrating your back, a betrayal you didn't expect, you let your guard down for a minute, and now she has your balls in one hand, your heart in the other, and she's squeezing with apparent relish!
You struggle to get a word out, but she flashes you a quick smile, and places a perfectly maincured index finger over your lips. "I begged him not to cum in my pussy, so he only came inside my ass and mouth instead. God, he fucked me so hard, like he wanted to punish me for my disobedience! He told me, when I get pregnant, I'll be his to fuck for the entire nine months, and that you are to watch it each and every night!"
Dumbfounded, you grasp at the hope she offers you, and open your mouth to declare your undying love for her again. Before you get a word out, she has laughingly smeared the piece of wedding cake all over your face, to the merriment of all the guests. Later, when it's time to remove the wedding garter, you're handcuffed and blindfolded, and are struggling to get to it, while the guests laughs uproarously at your efforts. Your bride bows down and whisper to you that you might as well taste her freshly shaven cunt while down there. Excited, you slide your tongue up her thigh and onto her pussy lips, only to feel the rasping sensation of dried semen all over her thighs and pussy. She holds your head through the dress firmly in place, until you've cleaned her up well, and when you finally emerge redfaced with the garter stuck in your mouth, she's looking at you with the same expression as before, absorbing the pain and confusion in your eyes as plants in the desert suck up rain. She supports you as get up on your feet, frees you from your cuffs, and tells you to toss the garter. The gay guy who fucked you in the ass earlier in the day snaps it up, and roars to your bride "HONEY, DO YOU SHARE?" to your great embarrasment and everyone else's amusement.
She just laughs, and pulls you to the side. "I know what you're thinking. You think I lied to you, and that he did cum in my pussy after all. Well, you will just have to take my word for it - he ordered me to let him cum on my pussy if I denied him to cum inside. Apparently, there's a small chance I might get pregnant from it, as cum residues often trickle inside when you pull out like that. The chance is very small, though." She pats your head, and leaves for the wedding present table to see what she got.
|
