Рот Уайт - 400 Days of Oppression

“I love you, Kenyatta,” I whispered.

“Shut-the-fuck-up.”

“I love you, Kenyatta,” I whispered again.

The blow came suddenly and unexpectedly. Her palm smacked across my cheek with a loud pop! like a gunshot. The room spun then came into crisp focus. Angela’s furious stare hovered inches from my face.

“You are fucking crazy.”

She pulled a leather hood over my head. It had a zipper up the back and a zipper where the eyeholes were. The opening for the mouth was a hard plastic circle. Angela picked up a small, flexible, clear dildo and held it up to the hood’s mouth opening, pressing it against my lips.

“Open!”

I opened my mouth and she eased the Jell-O-textured little dildo between my lips and partially into my throat. Just when I felt myself beginning to gag. It stopped. Luckily, it was only six-inches long, and having sucked Kenyatta’s cock for months, I was accustomed to at least another two inches.

She walked across the room and picked up a strap-on dildo. This was a new addition, something she’d brought with her. The harness was made of black latex and leather and there was a nine-inch, pink, flexible dildo strapped into it, the father of the one that was currently filling my throat. Angela picked up a small vial of lube and slathered the dildo with it. She closed the mouth-slit, preventing me from spitting out the dildo, then she closed the two eye-slits, leaving me blind, anxious, and a little fearful.

I felt Angela’s hands on my breasts, then her lips, sucking my nipples. She took her time, sucking each one hungrily, then she stepped behind me. I felt her hands on my thighs, slowly caressing them. She rubbed my ass, jiggled my corpulent buttocks, smacked each cheek hard then kissed them lovingly. I felt her tongue flick along the crack of my ass before she bit and sucked on my ass cheeks. Then her hands went back to my thighs, slowly parting my legs.

Her body pressed against mine. Her breath was hot and moist on the back of my neck and her hands soft but brutal as they found my breasts again, squeezing them, tweaking the nipples. She whispered huskily in my ear, voice heavy with lust.

“I’m going to fuck the shit out of you.”

Her lubed fingers slid between my legs, up inside me. They were cool and slippery from the lubricant. She parted my labia and pressed her hips against my ass as she eased the dildo into my pussy. I gasped as the stiff, jelly-like phallus filled me and Angela began thrusting aggressively. She moaned in my ear, as if it were her own flesh inside me rather than rubber.

She untied me and I collapsed. Angela stormed out of the room and left me trembling on the floor. I could feel my sanity beginning to slip, but I thought of Kenyatta and I held on. I held on to the image of us as a family raising kids together. It was my lifeline in this sea of madness.

Kenyatta became increasingly affectionate toward me over the following weeks. When he saw the damage Angela had done to me, he threatened to kick her out of the house if it ever happened again. For her part, Angela never used the whip again, switching to paddles and canes and making sure to use them on my ass and thighs, which had regained much of their former weight now that I was eating table scraps instead of horse beans and yams. I would have never admitted it to her, but I was actually beginning to enjoy the spankings.

I was vacuuming the living room while, in the next room, Angela was working out that flawless body of hers. I could hear her doing squats and lunges with a pair of Kenyatta’s huge dumbbells. Her workout routine would have put half the men I knew to shame. She could bench press a hundred pounds, squat two hundred pounds, and curl seventy-five pounds. There was a heavy bag in there as well and, after finishing her last set of lunges, she pulled on a pair of gloves and began throwing combinations, grunting with each blow. If it ever came down to it, as tiny as she was, I didn’t think I could take her. Each time her fists pounded the bag, I winced, imagining those same fists crashing into my body.

I was almost finished cleaning the living room when Angela walked in wearing tight black yoga pants and a pink halter top that came to just beneath her breasts and accentuated her incredible abdominal muscles. She sat down on Kenyatta’s lounge chair, still breathing hard, wiping sweat from her brow with a towel. She had a paddle in her hands. I didn’t need to wait to be told. I dropped my dress and underwear, walked over to her and laid across her thighs.

Angela smiled. “I think you’re starting to like this,” she purred, rubbing my naked ass. She reached a hand between my legs. I was already moist. I gasped as she slid a finger up inside me, withdrew it, then licked my juices from her fingertip. “Mmmm. You do like this don’t you?”

She smacked my ass hard with her bare hand. “Don’t you?”

“Yes, Mistress. I like it.”

She rubbed my bare ass where she had just smacked it and I squirmed, waiting for the next blow.

“Maybe I can help you enjoy it a little more.”

Angela parted my thighs and began rubbing my clitoris. I moaned, closed my eyes, and once again imagined that it was Kenyatta’s hands between my thighs. Then she brought the paddle down hard against my ass.

“Oh!”

“You like it?”

She was flicking her fingertips across my clitoris, rubbing it, twirling her index finger around the swollen nub. I moaned louder, my thighs quivered and I squirmed in her lap.

“Yes, Mistress. I love it!”

She brought down the paddle again, harder this time, sending a shock through my thighs and bringing me closer to orgasm. Kenyatta had done a wonderful job teaching me to enjoy the pain. What Angela was doing now, was almost identical to the first time he’d paddled me. I was certain she had learned the technique from him. I felt a twinge of jealousy imagining Angela bent over Kenyatta’s knee being paddled and finger-fucked. But Angela’s fingers were so talented, I soon lost myself in waves of luxurious pleasure. This bitch knew her way around some pussy.

I was on the verge of orgasm when Angela flipped me over, lying me on the couch with my legs in the air and burying her face between them. She sucked and licked my clitoris aggressively, angrily, wrapping her powerful arms around my thighs and holding me in place, wrestling me toward climax.

A roller coaster of orgasms barreled through me at a hundred miles an hour. I screamed and clawed the couch cushions. When Angela lifted her head from between my thighs, licking my juices from her full, heart-shaped lips, there was a triumphant smile on her face. I knew the feeling. Making someone cum was power. It was the only power I had over Angela and she had just taken it back. But there was a difference, I still had Kenyatta.

She slid her hands over my body, up my stomach, and over my breasts, which had also regained most of their former size. They filled her hands, she tweaked each nipple, rolling them between her fingers.

“Your breasts are wonderful,” Angela said. She crawled up my body and sucked one of my nipples into her mouth. I sighed deeply, grabbing the back of her head and holding it against my chest while her tongue swirled around my nipple. Slowly, she kissed her way back down my body. I opened my eyes when I felt her tongue slide up inside me. That’s when I saw Kenyatta standing above us.

“Oh, shit!”

I scrambled away from Angela. She looked up, and when she spotted Kenyatta, the fear in her eyes was genuine and profound. I wondered what Kenyatta had done to her to make Angela so terrified of him.

“It’s great to see you two getting along so well,” he said, sneering in disgust. “Don’t stop just because I’m here. Keep going.”