Roberta Vickers - Bondage whore

All that truly mattered was that this would be the path out of The Institute.

She carefully slipped the block back into its niche. Satisfied with her work, the girl edged out from under the bed, went to the tiny washbasin and quickly cleaned the grey cement dust from her hands. Taking a deep breath, she tossed herself onto the soft, yielding bed and silently rejoiced in the knowledge that her yellow brick road was in sight. How stupid she had been expecting sunlight when she did not know what time it was. She had somehow imagined that The Institute followed a normal schedule and allowed its inmates to sleep during the nighttime hours.

Possibly some of the inmates did live according to a normal, outer-world time table, but the patrons she'd seen might be cramming their extracurricular activities in after their normal work hours. She was one of the night crew servicing the daytime workers and nighttime revelers.

Mindy's thoughts were interrupted by Michelle's entry into the cell.

"Is my pretty pretty ready for a special treat?" Mindy scowled. She had come to know Michelle in the week – two weeks – she had been a prisoner in The Institute. Whatever the leather woman relished meant acute discomfort or even pain for Mindy.

"If you have something different, yeah. Otherwise, find someone else."

Mindy knew that Michelle was no longer in a position to brutally punish her as she had done in the first days at The Institute. In some strange way, she realized the higher-ups at The Institute had sided with her against the brutal redhead. Not being able to use her whip as she liked, Michelle was tending more and more to psychological torture.

Mindy thought the redhead would have made a great Gestapo or SS officer. Michelle had both the disposition and inclination to be vicious.

"Ah, my pretty pretty jokes! That's fine because you will need a sense of humor. Come along. You're going to get your first taste of dark meat."

Mindy silently rose to her feet, wondering what the woman meant by that remark.

She soon found out. Alone in a room outfitted to look like a posh business suite sat a powerfully built black man. When Mindy walked in, the man said in a deeply resonant, educated voice, "Please be seated. We shall begin dictation in a moment."

Mindy sat in the indicated chair, wondering what this guy's trip was. Why did he have to play the big-time executive? She knew that a pauper never, but never got into The Institute. This black guy had to be loaded with money, possibly power, and was probably a high-level executive.

Why did he have to pretend?

The black man stirred slightly in his plush chair, then said, "I've wanted to say this for some time, Mrs. McGill. May I call you Nancy? I know your name is Lil, but everybody calls you Nancy."

Mindy was perplexed. Was the man insane, or did he just have some freaky little fantasy he enjoyed acting out?

She figured she could play along and see where it led. "That's fine. Calling me Nancy, I mean."

"Thank you, Nancy. I suppose you know that I don't have any dictation today." His eyes glided over her body, taking in every curve and seductive bulge. Mindy couldn't help but think, although she couldn't see his lap, that he had a pronounced bulge there, too.

"Nancy… I've wanted you for so long it's become an obsession." He stood, towering over Mindy. He was heavy, perhaps two hundred twenty pounds and tall, topping six feet three. He began to pace, hands locked behind his back.

"I've always been afraid you'd refuse me. Turn me down. Laugh at my overtures. I know that a secretary, and a married one, should not get involved with her boss."

"But, Nancy, I love you madly."

"What do you want me to do?" Mindy was becoming interested in this entire scenario being unfolded in front of her.

"Suck me off."

Mindy sighed and settled back into her chair. At least the guy was being very straight-forward about voicing his desires. Mindy carefully studied his powerful frame and wondered again why he didn't just proposition the real Nancy McGill. Any woman would be a fool to turn down a man who was rich, powerful and as brawny as this guy.

"Let me tell you something about women, uh…" Mindy hesitated. She didn't know his name and was afraid to ask. "Let me say this. Women like strong men, good-looking men. You're certainly good-looking, but you're being far too timid. I won't suck you off because you're begging me."

"It should be the other way around. I should be begging you for your gorgeous, long black cock. And if I don't, you should tell me to."

The man continued to pace, then stopped and looked squarely into the girl's brilliant emerald green eyes.

"You're very perceptive, Nancy. Too much, I think. I order people around all day long. They are pawns in my financial empire. I want something more from you than my having to order you to get down on your knees."

His voice held the snap of command, and Mindy felt herself slipping out of the chair and dropping to her knees to stare up at the towering giant of "her" boss.

"Unzip my fly."

Mindy hurriedly fumbled with the man's zipper, and the huge black cock snapped out like an opening switchblade knife. She stared in mute amazement at the man's prick. It gleamed a blue-black in the florescent lighting of the room and twitched slightly with barely suppressed passions for his beloved Nancy McGill. Mindy gingerly reached out and clutched it in her hand, surprised at the girth. She'd seen quite a few cocks since she'd been in The Institute, some longer than this man's. But she had never encountered a prick that was so large in circumference. If he attempted to bury this spike of black meat in her cunt, he could rip her open all the way to the chin!

She tenderly stroked his tool, feeling blood pump continuously into the lusty rod and expanding it even more than it already was. Mindy wondered how large it would grow. She could close her hand around it now, but if the cylinder of man meat continued to expand, she'd have difficulty closing her slender fingers around it.

"Hmmm, Nancy, that feels good. Keep stroking it, keep fondling my cock."

Mindy didn't answer. She had already tired of merely feeling the warmth and softly rippled surface. She wanted more and was determined to get it. The girl began lightly kissing the purple-black cockhead, lavishing wet kisses all over the hooded head of the black man's shaft. When Mindy reached the ultra sensitive triangle of skin immediately underneath the tiny pinprick hole in the end of the rod, she gently nipped at the folds of flesh.

Mindy thought the man was going to lose his mind. He shrieked, "Ooooohhh Goddddd! Moooore! I want mooore!" In his passion, the girl noticed that he spoke with a slightly British accent, just like a friend of hers who had come to the U.S. from Bristol.

Ignoring such minor things as accents, the girl obliged his whim. She began licking, carefully biting and kissing the sensitive area, giving it all the attention it had apparently lacked. She finally took just the black head of his dick into her mouth and began to lightly gnaw on the resilient flesh. The man groaned and writhed with increasing passion, pivoting around the spike buried in Mindy's mouth.

Mindy's mouth formed an "O", and she began to suck, gradually at first and only at the very tip of his dong. As her cheeks sank and became more and more concave, she lowered herself on the long, black cock and homed in on the curly bush of his crotch hair.

She didn't miss a wrinkle of skin, a single inch of his prick on her carnal journey to his groin. Her lips strained to surround his tool. His rod had grown so large, her jaws cracked with the unnatural exertion she was having forced upon her. But Mindy didn't care. The girl had never before tasted such a wonderful cock.