I'm a different breed of woman. The kind you don't hear much about. I have a deep craving for making men submit to me. I'm plump, some men would say fat. Maybe that's true and maybe it's not, but it's not something that fills my day.
I've finally reached a point in my life where I am comfortable with the woman I am. I no longer hold back and if there is something about me that you don't like, I don't need you in my life. At the moment I have a fit black man restrained in my sex room.
He's delicious. Light skin, 5'8", muscular, and very prideful. I found him a few months ago checking my chest out while I was shopping got groceries. We exchanged numbers and he became one of my regulars.
This particular black man is successful, intelligent, athletic, and prices himself on being a man's man. Someone who can handle himself as a commanding figure at work or on the streets. There's a powerful demeanor about him that makes others shrink in his presence.
These are things that turn me on about him but what really sparked my attention is that he was seaking a dominant white woman to own him. Someone who would allow him to give over all forms of power and let him be the one thing he could never be outside of sex.
He explained that carrying that mantle everywhere gets exhausting and that sometimes he just needs to take the mask off and let a woman take command of him, no restraints or limits. He wanted me to own every aspect of him. Make him fear me, yet beg for more.
I loved the idea and ran with it. Tonight has been the culmination of it all. I was going to pull out all the strings and see if he would dare tell me no. There were no code words for me to stop. At least not one that I would actually adhere to.
So like I was saying, he's currently nude and restrained in an X shape. His large cock throbbing at full display. The look in his eyes say fuck me, but I'll test that. I want to see what his limits are.
I grab his balls and squeeze, he winces and tries to pull his hips back. I yank him forward.
Fear.
I'm dressed in jeans, tight top with my full breasts on display. He loves to tit fuck me, but that won't happen tonight. Tonight, I want him to hate me. I curl my fingers and dig my nails into his balls and pull up. The wince that rushed from his body was laced with panic.
He yanks on his restrains and comes up to the tips of his toes to try to lighten the pressure. "Nigger, these balls are mine!" There's a hint of shock and anger in his eyes. He's never been call nigger by a white woman during sex.
The most taboo of words used during what should be a pleasurable moment tainting his emotions. I grab his cock, twisting it to see more pain etched on his beautiful face.
I look up in his eyes, without isn't an ounce of doubt in me I say, "You want to be my slave, don't you nigger?" There's that hint of confusion again. I'm using a word he has hated all his life, a word he should never embrace. One that fills him with anger but he's being trained.
