Educating Jonathan – Part Four

Classic muscle beauty: The incomparable Minna Pajulahti.
Classic muscle beauty: The incomparable Minna Pajulahti.

Jonathan opens his mouth, but no sound comes out. Mistress Nguvu decides to speak next.

“Did you hear me, Jonathan?”

He makes eye contact with her. Her stern look tells him she means business. Jonathan has no intention of getting on her bad side. God forbid that would ever happen.

“Yes, I heard you, Mistress. What kind of help do you need from me exactly?” If there was anything valuable Jonathan learned from that human sexuality class, it was that any dominatrix who is worth anything will always desire to be called “Mistress” whenever possible. Any breach of protocol grants one’s self the right to be punished. Jonathan does not want to be “punished” by this formidable woman.

“Good. Come closer. I want to show you something,” she says.

Like a faithful dog, Jonathan approaches the Mistress as instructed. He feels timid around her but wildly excited at the same time. Mistress Nguvu senses his meekness and relishes the sensual power she has over him. Despite her years and years of experience as a professional dominatrix, she still experiences that tingling exhilaration when a rookie “subordinate” subjects her with proper reverence when called upon to demonstrate it.

“Do you see my cock? Do you see how beautiful it is?” The Mistress strokes her gigantic black dildo up and down its enormous shaft. Jonathan feels a bit insecure, but instead chooses to ignore his emotions. Now is neither the time nor the place to relive his personal insecurities.

“Yes, I see your beautiful cock. It’s so big.”

“Yes it is. And I want to show Samantha here how big and beautiful it can be. Look inside the black bag and take out the bottle of oil,” the Mistress instructs.

Without hesitation, Jonathan goes to the bag and digs inside it. He finds a bottle of baby oil. Dr. Sammy is still on the floor, tears streaming down her face. Jonathan didn’t know whether to feel sorry for her or be creeped out by her behavior. He hands the bottle to the Mistress and holds his breath.

Mistress Nguvu opens the bottle and pours a generous amount of oil onto the palm of her hand. Jonathan sees large calluses protruding across her hand and up her fingers. Decades of weightlifting will do that to your skin. It’s the body’s way of protecting itself from repeated abuse. He wonders if Samantha’s body will demonstrate a similar defense mechanism.

“You seem like an obedient boy, Jonathan. Will you obey my commands?”

Jonathan blinks. “Yes, Mistress. I will obey your every word.” He almost tips over. Thankfully, he retains his balance. The Mistress smears the oil all over the dildo, making sure all nine inches are dutifully covered. Samantha sits up and rubs her eyes. Liquid eyeliner streaks across her beautiful face. She’s stopped sobbing, but still has the sniffles. An ominous roar of thunder makes itself heard outside. All three of them stop what they’re doing and look out the window. Seconds later, a subtle streak of lightning follows, as if on cue. The Mistress rumbles in laughter and touches Jonathan on the shoulder. He shudders at the sensation of her warm fingers brushing against his cold skin.

“We are People of Color. We deserve to teach this worthless white cunt a lesson in humility, don’t you agree?” Jonathan nods in agreement. He doesn’t know if the Mistress sees this, but she proceeds as if she knew how he responded.

“Good. Now is the proper time for us to punish this little fucking white bitch in a way she deserves. Are you hard yet?” Mistress Nguvu reaches down and wraps her fingers around Jonathan’s limp penis. He gasps. Samantha’s eyes widen in anticipation. Her breathing stops. The Mistress lightly jerks Jonathan’s manhood and feels it fill her palm. She smiles, showing off her pearly white teeth. “Good boy, good boy Jonathan. Good boy.”

Rene Campbell showing off her hard work.
Rene Campbell showing off her hard work.

Samantha rubs her reddened torso to ease the pain. The worst has already passed, but a faint hint of ache still lingers. She licks her lips.

“Now, go over to her and put your Asian penis inside her mouth. She knows what to do from there,” the Mistress instructs, playfully pushing Jonathan toward the professor. He obliges without protest.

“Don’t you, little white bitch?”

The gorgeous professor bobs her head up and down. Dr. Sammy positions herself on all fours and sticks her bottom out in front of Mistress Nguvu. Jonathan sits down on the edge of the bed and sighs. Samantha obediently crawls toward him. She looks at him and communicates the message “trust me” with her eyes. For whatever reason, Jonathan feels secure by this silent demonstration of consensual verification.

Mistress Nguvu walks over to Samantha and sticks a single finger inside her anus. She struggles to stifle a moan. A second finger enters her shortly after. Jonathan’s erect penis sways back and forth again. The professor extends her tongue outward and licks his sensitive tip. He lets out a deep groan and closes his eyes. The Mistress inserts a third finger and then a fourth. As Jonathan’s entire manhood is engulfed by Dr. Sammy’s mouth, Nguvu’s entire fist finds itself inside her anus. Finally ready to take in the ultimate prize, the strong black woman removes her fist and substitutes it with her oiled up nine inch long strap-on dildo. Inserting it with deliberate intent, she wants to assert her dominance without giving her worthless bitch any unnecessary unpleasantness.

“You know what to do next, slut. Suck on his small Asian cock while I ride you with my large black dick!”

Caught off guard by the Mistress’s description of his manhood being a “small Asian cock,” Jonathan almost makes a sound of protest just as Dr. Sammy submissively starts to perform fellatio on him. At the same time, Mistress Nguvu grips Samantha’s hips and strokes her dildo in and out of her tight anal cavity. The pleasure he derives from the oral sex distracts him from thinking about how the hell a nine inch long dildo can possibly fit inside someone’s anus. The young Asian graduate student decides to ponder such matters at a later time.

“Oh yeah, suck on it. Suck on it real good as I shove my big black cock inside your ass. Take it, you fucking piece of shit.” Still uncomfortable with hearing such foul language, Jonathan closes his eyes again and looks upward toward the Heavens. He feels himself close to climax. Samantha nearly chokes as she once again fights away tears. She’s feeling a tremendous amount of pain from the dildo intruding her tight anus, but she accepts it as a suitable punishment for the generations of systemic racism her people have lashed out against Mistress Nguvu’s and Jonathan’s people.

“When you’re about to come, tell us so this dirty little white slut knows when to stop,” the Mistress instructs to Jonathan. Samantha refuses to relinquish the pace at which she sucks his penis. He tries to concentrate but cannot. His vision blurs. Waves of pleasure roll through his body. He knows he’s close. The Mistress also refuses to surrender her torrid in-and-out thrusting of Dr. Sammy’s abused cavity.

Finally, he senses the end is near. He decides to acknowledge this fact.

“I’m about to come!”

Mistress Nguvu intensifies her thrusts. She slaps Samantha on the back to instruct her to cease the fellatio. She removes Jonathan’s penis from her mouth and waits.

The wait doesn’t last long.

Jonathan groans as he spurts his semen all over Samantha’s beautiful face. The waves of his ejaculation seem to go on forever. Eventually, they stop and he collapses backward onto the bed. Mistress Nguvu pulls out of Samantha’s bottom and peers into her face. It is completely covered in warm white liquid. She laughs, the sound of her husky voice reverberating throughout the whole room.

“That’s a good girl. Yes, a very good girl indeed.” Nguvu strokes Dr. Sammy’s hair like an owner would pet a cat. Jonathan swears Samantha starts to purr like a satisfied feline. All he knows is that he is the truly satisfied one!

A life-like long black dildo.
A life-like long black dildo.

A long silence follows. No one knows for sure for how long, but that doesn’t seem to matter to anyone. At last, Samantha stands up and goes to the bathroom. She closes the door behind her. The sound of running water follows. Mistress Nguvu, who has now fallen out of “character,” removes the strap-on dildo from her waist and cleans it with a disinfectant wipe. She takes another wipe from her pack and offers it to Jonathan.

“Would you like this? To clean up after yourself?”

Jonathan nods his head and takes the wipe from the Mistress. He cleans his penis and tosses it into a nearby trashcan. He really needs to pee, but must wait patiently until Samantha returns from the bathroom. Nguvu places the dildo back inside the bag. An awkward moment takes place between Jonathan and the Mistress as they look at each other but have nothing constructive or practical to say. Finally, Jonathan cordially breaks the silence.

“Nice to meet you. I’m Jonathan, but you already know that.” He extends his hand toward Nguvu. She follows suit and shakes his hand. Her tight grip takes Jonathan by surprise. Could she break every bone in his body if she wanted to? Jonathan has no doubts she could if she were so inclined to demonstrate her incredible strength. He hopes he never gets on her “bad” side. The consequences would be disastrous.

“Charmed. I was a bit surprised Sammy wanted to start things off without proper introductions, but she was ‘in the moment’ and couldn’t be bothered with basic pleasantries,” Mistress Nguvu observes. “I don’t blame her one bit. She’s a passionate one, that’s for damn sure.”

Jonathan smirks. “Yes, she is. Have you ever read any of her writings? She speaks from the heart. There’s a lot to admire about that.” He realizes he’s still stark naked, but for whatever inexplicable reason he chooses not to clothe himself yet.

“You’re right about that. I adore her. She provides a level of insight that not too many people can match. She’s truly a one-of-a-kind.”

A moment later, Samantha comes out of the bathroom in a much more upbeat mood. She’s put on a bathrobe (a comfortable dark purple fleece robe Jonathan’s grandmother gave him for Christmas a few years ago) and appears to be “out of character” as well. She and Nguvu hug. Then they share a brief kiss. It is at this moment that Jonathan becomes more self-conscious about his nudity and contemplates putting on something to make things less strange.

“Go ahead and put something on, sweetie,” Samantha suggests, as if she could read minds.

The authoritative Mistress Treasure.
The authoritative Mistress Treasure.

Taking her advice, Jonathan puts on a pair of underwear, gym shorts and an old t-shirt. Mistress Nguvu takes out a bottle of water from her coat and drinks from it. Samantha stands behind her and sensually rubs her broad shoulders. Now that the fog of war has cleared, Jonathan takes a long look at the Mistress and marvels at her impressive muscular physique. He’s seen guys with big muscles, but never a woman with so much from head to toe. Jonathan’s never been into “muscle chicks,” but Nguvu is forcing him to reconsider his position.

“You have a nice apartment, Jonathan,” the Mistress says. Jonathan abruptly breaks out of his spell.

“Thank you. I’ve been here for about a year and a half. The rent isn’t too shabby. I like it a lot.”

“It sure beats my crummy little house down in Puyallup. I should consider moving to the big city. I think I’d like it once I get used to it.” Dr. Sammy leans over and kisses Nguvu’s bulging right bicep. In response, the Mistress flexes her arm to accentuate her bicep peak. A tight bundle of muscle emerges from the top of her swollen arm. Dr. Sammy gasps.

“You would sure get a lot more customers if you moved up here, Mistress. You should really consider it.” Mistress Nguvu turns around and wraps her strong arms around the professor. She playfully lifts her up and drops her to her feet. Dr. Sammy audibly moans, as if responding erotically to the Mistress’s impressive display of brute strength. Jonathan chuckles and turns on all the lights in the room so that he could get a complete glimpse of his guests. Spent, Dr. Sammy sits down on a nearby sofa.

“You look so cute together,” Jonathan observes. “Tell me, Mistress. You have got to be a professional bodybuilder, right? I mean, there aren’t too many women in this world who look like you.”

The Mistress takes a step toward him, which sends a jolt of nervous energy through his body. He knows she means no harm, but he cannot help but react this way to her imposing physical presence.

“I used to compete professionally, yes. But not anymore. I stopped competing about five years ago. But in my heyday, I was one of the world’s premiere female bodybuilders. I still lift, obviously!” Nguvu shows off a series of bodybuilder poses, much to the delight of her audience. Dr. Sammy cheers and applauds for her while Jonathan could do nothing but stand there and stare at her. Totally mesmerized by Nguvu’s impeccable combination of size, strength, grace, beauty and femininity, he can say for certain that he’s never met (or seen, for that matter) a woman like her before. He doubts he’ll ever meet a woman like her again in his life. He’s definitely positive about that.

Before the Mistress could finish all her poses, a sudden knock at the door surprises everyone. Dr. Sammy jumps up to her feet. Nguvu turns her head toward the door. Jonathan looks at a clock on the wall and sees the current time is 2:36 a.m. Who could that possibly be? Nobody would ever have any reason to knock on his door at this hour! They weren’t being too loud. These walls are faultlessly soundproof. Jonathan walks toward the door and peers through the small peep hole.

“Who is it?” Dr. Sammy inquires.

“Let me check,” Jonathan says.

The hallway of his apartment building is usually well-lit no matter time of the day it is. The 17th floor has only four tenants, as most of the residents live on floors one through twelve. However, Jonathan struggles to see who it is that’s waiting on the other side. He thinks there are two or three people, but he could be wrong. Fearing nothing, Jonathan cracks open the door.

“Hello? Who is it? Are we being too loud?”

The person standing directly in front of the door kicks it open violently. Jonathan stumbles backward and falls to the floor. Dr. Sammy screams. Nguvu is frozen with terror. Four men dressed in black storm into the apartment unit and draw guns with silencers directly at all three of them. The fourth man calmly closes the door and points his gun at Jonathan’s head.

“Stand up. Slowly. Don’t try anything stupid,” he commands.

Jonathan does as he’s told. The other three men surround Mistress Nguvu and Samantha, who have huddled together in the southeast corner of the room. All four men are wearing clown masks, black trench coats, camouflage pants, military boots and bullet-proof vests. The fourth man, who is significantly shorter than his henchmen, points his gun in the direction of Nguvu and Dr. Sammy. Jonathan takes that as a hint to move toward them. He shuffles his feet to where they’re quivering and positions his body in front of the women.

“Alright, let’s make this simple. Don’t try anything stupid, any of you. First of all, are you Dr. Samantha Prescott?” Everyone looks at her. Dr. Sammy nods her head. “Good. Now, listen to me very carefully. We’re all going to go downstairs to the parking garage. I don’t know who the fuck you two are, but because you’re here with her, we’re taking you all hostage.”

“Who the fuck are you?” Mistress Nguvu asks. Jonathan senses a level of fear in her voice that he never knew was possible for a strong woman of her stature. Muscles or not, a man with a gun changes the equation really quick.

“That’s none of your fucking business, bitch. What’s going on here, some kind of fetish party?” The man looks around at the dildo, whip, oil and the Mistress’s outfit. “No matter. Kinky bastards. Here, put these on.”

A clown mask.
A clown mask.

The man motions to one of his colleagues. One of the men takes out three identical clown masks from his coat and hands them to his hostages.

“Do it. Put them on. Now!”

Jonathan, Dr. Samantha and Mistress Nguvu reluctantly put on the clown masks. Two of the men walk toward the front door.

“Good. Don’t say a word. If any of you scream, attempt to run away, or pull off any other stupid shit, we’ll put a bullet inside every single one of you. Don’t test us. Got it?”

The three hostages nod their heads to acknowledge their understanding of his orders.

“Fantastic. Fucking fantastic. Alright, let’s head out. Not a single word will be spoken by any of you, understand? If anyone asks who we are or where we’re going, I’m the only one who will speak. Got it?”

Once again, the three hostages nod their heads.

“Great. Let’s head out.” With that, the seven of them walk out toward the elevator. Not a single soul is in the hallway. Jonathan isn’t very religious, but right now he is praying to every deity known to the Universe. He doesn’t want to die. He doesn’t know who these men are or what they plan to do with them. He just wants this whole ordeal to come to an end.

They get into an elevator. Forty-five seconds go by, which seem like an eternity. The elevator doors open and the seven clown mask-donning figures walk toward a dark red SUV.

“Get in,” a voice commands.

Jonathan, Dr. Samantha and Mistress Nguvu, still wearing the clown masks, sit in the back of the SUV. Two of the men sit in front while the other two men get into a separate car. One of the men collects the clown masks and gives them black cloth to put over their heads instead. The three hostages put them on. The cloth completely blinds them. They cannot see a thing.

Satisfied with their hostages’ blindness, the driver turns on the ignition, puts the SUV in reverse, exits the parking garage and within minutes they’re travelling on the open road toward an uncertain fate.

Educating Jonathan – Part Three

A beautiful shot of a woman exuding sexuality.
A beautiful shot of a woman exuding sexuality.

“Listen, I’m…uh, not really comfortable doing this sort of thing,” Jonathan says. “I’m sorry. I don’t know what to say right now.

Samantha turns around but still remains on her hands and knees. She peers up at Jonathan with innocence in her eyes. She doesn’t like the fact she’s making Jonathan feel uncomfortable.

“I’m the one who should be sorry. Listen, Jonathan. I’m serious about what I’m saying. I really do deserve to be punished. Someone needs to do it, even if you don’t want to,” she says.

On the contrary, Jonathan sees absolutely no need for any of this to happen. Punishment for what exactly? Racism around the world? Slavery? Past crimes against humanity? Samantha isn’t responsible for any of that! She’s just a college professor. An author. A public speaker. She’s not a tyrant or a flaming bigot. Dear Lord…

“No, Samantha. You don’t need to do this. This is crazy. This doesn’t make sense. Get up off the floor. Let’s just…snuggle and make love again. I don’t like how you’re behaving.” He’s being sincere. Jonathan has never considered himself the “kinky” type. Of course, he’s not one to judge. What someone is into is their business and their business alone.

“I had a feeling you’d feel this way,” Samantha begins. “So I have a backup plan.”

Standing up, Dr. Sammy digs into her black bag again and takes out her cell phone. By this time Jonathan’s arousal has disappeared completely. When things started to get weird, Jonathan didn’t know how to react. He hopes things return back to normal soon.

“Do you mind if I invite my friend to come up here? I have an associate who’s been waiting in my car this whole time.”

“Wait, what? You came here with someone?”

“Yes. An associate of mine. An old friend. Can I invite her here? She’s friendly.” Now there’s someone else involved? Uh oh.

“Uh, sure. Invite her in. I don’t want anyone to be bored and wait in a car all night,” Jonathan says.

At this point, what’s the harm? It’s not like this night could get any stranger. Jonathan’s been with a few women in his life, but never under these circumstances. Most of his “hook-ups” have been just that: hook ups. No requests to whip anyone. No discussions about white guilt, compensating for injustices of the past, no need to sexually appease a so-called “oppressed” racial minority. None of that.

“Okay. Thanks!”

Samantha dials a number and puts the phone up to her ear. A moment later, the person she calls picks up and answers.

“Hello Mistress. It’s me. Come on up. He just gave me permission to invite you in. He’s in unit number 821. See you soon. Bye, honey.” She ends the call and puts her phone back in the black bag. There is a moment of silence. Samantha twirls her hair. Jonathan sits patiently on the bed, trying to rationalize this whole eventful evening. What the hell just happened during the past few minutes? Did he just step into the Twilight Zone or some other alternate dimension?

Finally, Samantha breaks the awkward silence.

“Like I said, she’s an old friend. She’ll punish me in a way I severely deserve,” Samantha insists.

“Who…exactly is your friend? And how is she going to punish you, you know, like you supposedly deserve? Or do I not want to know?”

“Oh, you’ll find out. Trust me. You’ll like her. You’ll like the Mistress.” Samantha sits down on an easy chair and rubs her nipples. They stand at attention. Jonathan sighs and leans back against the headboard. Mistress? What the hell does that mean? As if this night couldn’t get any creepier…it does!

A woman in bondage.
A woman in bondage.

Jonathan decides to use the bathroom. He does. After washing his hands, he hears the doorbell ring. Samantha, who still hasn’t put on any clothes as far as Jonathan knows, answers the door. He faintly hears Samantha and the “Mistress” exchange pleasantries, but he couldn’t quite understand what they were saying. Jonathan considers whether he should put on a bathrobe before meeting this unexpected guest, but is suddenly interrupted mid-thought.

“Oh, Jonathan! She’s here. Don’t worry about getting dressed. Just come out when you can,” Samantha says sweetly – like a mother calling her children in for suppertime.

Embarrassed and a little nervous, Jonathan reluctantly exits the bathroom to greet his newest guest. Standing near the entrance is a tall beautiful black woman wearing a long dark purple fur coat, scarlet red stiletto heels and large gold hoop earrings. She looks to be in her late 30s or early 40s. But black women can be difficult to age at times. Jonathan is mostly captured by her unique beauty. A sharp angular face, striking green eyes, minimal makeup and a husky build makes her a sight to behold.

Unsure of how to properly react, Jonathan is content to just stand there awkwardly and hope for the best.

“Jonathan, this is Mistress Nguvu. She and I go way back. We’re old friends,” Samantha proudly announces. Showing off her friend, Dr. Sammy takes the Mistress’s hand and leads her closer to Jonathan. When they finally approach him, Jonathan is taken aback by how tall she is. Well over six feet tall, his best friend from high school played on the varsity basketball team and was 6 foot 5 inches flat. She appears to be a little shorter, so Jonathan estimates her to be around 6’4” or 6’3”.

“Welcome. Make yourself at home, Mistress Nguvu,” Jonathan weakly says to her. He extends his hand to greet her and she shakes it. Her strong grip also surprises him. He feels like she could break every bone in his hand if she chooses to do so. Finally, their handshake comes to an end and all three are left standing around in silence. Samantha is relishing the moment. Mistress Nguvu’s gorgeous green eyes have not left Jonathan’s earthy brown eyes. While he is physically naked, but her piercing look leaves him exposed in ways that he’s never felt before.

“Thank you for inviting me into your home. I couldn’t stand sitting around in Sammy’s car in the rain for much longer. I needed to stretch my legs,” the Mistress says. Her deep baritone voice has a deep reverberation that could shake the foundations of Earth and Heaven; a voice that also carries confidence, wisdom, sexual prowess and unmistakable femininity. She speaks with a slight accent, one that Jonathan couldn’t quite figure out yet. In these brief few moments he’s known her; Jonathan already senses Mistress Nguvu is a human being unlike any he’s ever encountered before in his life.

“She’s here to give me the punishment you are uncomfortable to deliver. I don’t begrudge you for it. After all, we hardly know each other. But the Mistress and I have been friends for decades. We know each other all too well,” Samantha says. She leans over and licks the Mistress’s left cheek. Mistress Nguvu responds by teasing her right nipple with her long fingers. Dr. Sammy giggles at these sudden pleasurable sensations.

“Is there a place I can hang my coat?” Mistress Nguvu asks.

“Yes, there’s a coat rack right by the door. You passed it when you came in here,” Jonathan answers.

As Mistress Nguvu turns toward the front door, Samantha comes to the bed and picks up the whip, handcuffs and rope. She looks around the room, perhaps to determine where to best use these “toys.” All of this is completely new to Jonathan. He’s read about BDSM practices in a human sexuality class he took during his freshman year, but he mostly took that class to get closer to a girl he liked. They ended up dating for most of the semester, but he truthfully found the class genuinely interesting.

Who knew what he learned in that class would actually become relevant at this very moment?

As if what’s already happened weren’t astounding enough, what happens next would blow all of that completely out of the water. When Mistress Nguvu finds the wooden rack and takes off her handsome fur coat, she reveals an even more stunning spectacle:

A rock hard muscular body.

Oh. My. Fucking. God.

Jonathan has never seen a sight like this. This striking black woman’s body exudes strength in a way he never knew was possible for a woman. Thick thighs, dense glutes, a chiseled eight-pack set of abdominal muscles, a broad back, plump breasts, a wide chest, vascular arms that look like they could burst out of her skin, shoulders of steel and forearms strong enough to bend iron; Mistress Nguvu has the physique of a male bodybuilder mixed with the grace of a gymnast and the sensuality of a salsa dancer. She hangs up her coat and returns back to the bedroom.

Imagine Mistress Nguvu looking a lot like a taller version of Victoria Dominguez (a.k.a. "Mistress Treasure").
Imagine Mistress Nguvu looking a lot like a taller version of Victoria Dominguez (a.k.a. “Mistress Treasure”).

Wearing nothing but the stiletto heels, fishnet stockings, a tiny black g-string thong and a tight leather corset, Jonathan wasn’t sure whether to feel fear or uncontrollable arousal. Her massive muscles and remarkable height add to her mesmerizing allure.

After everyone finally gathers back in the bedroom, Samantha starts the evening’s activities.

“Jonathan darling, there’s something I want you to watch. The Mistress and I are going to play together. We do this sort of thing all the time, but I feel it is important for you to witness it. I am confident you will get an empowering and much-needed cathartic experience from it,” Dr. Sammy explains.

“Emotional healing is good for the soul. This is why the Mistress is so vital in my life. We have a symbiotic relationship. Our interdependence is crucial for each other’s existence. Do you understand what I’m telling you?”

Jonathan blinks. He nods.

“Great. Fantastic. So, let’s begin, shall we?” Samantha gets down on her knees and hugs Mistress Nguvu’s legs. Her thighs are so thick Dr. Sammy struggles to wrap her arms completely around them. Jonathan sits down on the easy chair and can do nothing else but stare at the exhibition unfolding before him. He is powerless to think or even begin to comprehend where this evening is going.

Playtime has begun.

“You fucking piece of shit. Why the fuck are you even touching me? I never gave you permission to touch me, you dirty little fucking whore!” Mistress Nguvu declares to Samantha. Still unable to place the source of her accent, the Mistress’s voice is like music to Jonathan’s ears.

“I’m sorry, Mistress. I fucked up. I’ll never disobey you again,” Samantha prostrates herself on the floor, her forehead touching the carpet.

A black whip.
A black whip.

“Yes, you will. You will because you’re a worthless slut. You white bitch. You worthless white piece of fucking shit. Look me in the eye when I’m talking to you, little slut,” the Mistress scolds.

It’s been a long time since Jonathan has heard language this foul between two adult women. He’d rather not rehash the specific circumstances.

“I’ll do what you say, Mistress. Discipline me for being a little slut, I beg of you!” Samantha – clearly “in character” – looks up at Mistress Nguvu and licks her muscular calf. A smile lurks underneath Nguvu’s threatening façade.

“Thank you, cunt. Now go into your bag and give me my cock.” On cue, Dr. Sammy reaches over for the bag and takes out a nine-inch long black strap-on. The black dildo’s lifelike appearance catches Jonathan by surprise. Its considerable girth and unrealistic length (at least, Jonathan hopes its length is unrealistic) nearly makes Jonathan gasp out loud. Thankfully, he remains perfectly silent.

Mistress Nguvu puts the strap-on around her crotch and strokes the dildo suggestively. Jonathan still cannot believe all this is happening right before him. Never in a billion years would he ever guess a brilliant college feminist professor and a black female bodybuilder dominatrix would ever pay his humble apartment a visit. But alas, here they are engaging in erotic “roleplaying” right in this very room.

“Suck my cock, you white slut. Suck my beautiful black cock till I tell you to stop. And never stop looking me in the eyes, you fucking white cunt,” Nguvu sternly instructs. “If you break any of my rules, you will pay the dire consequences.”

Obediently, Samantha remains on her knees and opens her mouth wide to suck on the nine-inch long black dildo. Her eyes never leave the Mistress’s eyes. Nguvu lightly strokes Samantha’s hair and rubs her shoulders. As she sucks, the Mistress pretends to be having an orgasm from the mock fellatio. A few moments later the Mistress “climaxes.” She moans. Samantha’s eyes remain locked onto the Mistress’s gorgeous face.

“Swallow all of it, little slut. Make me happy,” the Mistress says. She bends down and kisses Dr. Sammy on the forehead. Samantha pretends to swallow Nguvu’s imaginary semen. Afterward she wipes Samantha’s mouth and kisses her deeply on the lips. The whole time Jonathan does nothing but watch. The initial shock of the situation has at last worn off, but enthralling intrigue has taken its place.

“Now give me the rope and the handcuffs, you worthless white cunt.”

Samantha obliges the Mistress immediately.

Nguvu proceeds to tie the rope around Dr. Sammy’s ankles and straps the handcuffs on her wrists. Slumped over, Dr. Sammy looks worse for wear. Unkempt hair, makeup streaking down her face and sweat dripping off her brow, her physical appearance is about to erode even further. Without instructing anyone, Mistress Nguvu walks over to the bed and takes the whip. Jonathan’s heart flutters when this beautiful strong black woman comes near him. It’s as if her presence alone is enough to make his pulse race.

A very kinky photo of Desiree Ellis and a friend.
A very kinky photo of Desiree Ellis and a friend.

“Now, you are about to be punished for your earlier showcase of disobedience. I hope you learn your lesson from this, you fucking white cunt.”

The Mistress raises her fist high in the air, waits a beat, and lashes down on Samantha’s back. The crack of the whip against Dr. Sammy’s flesh makes a sound that stuns Jonathan. He never anticipated the whipping sound would be that…jarring. He thought this was all fun and games (granted, kinky fun and games). But this is something else entirely–

Before Jonathan could process another thought, Mistress Nguvu whips Samantha again. And again, and again, and again. Four, five, six, seven, eight times. More than that. More times than he could count.

Samantha screams. Mistress Nguvu laughs out of sheer sadistic pleasure. Her screams continue. The laughter also continues. Jonathan is frozen stiff. The screams burn his ears. The lashings persist unmercifully.

The Mistress whips her at every angle: her back, her sides, her butt, her legs, her feet, her stomach, her chest, her breasts, her arms, everywhere except for her neck and face. Perhaps they agreed prior to this evening the head area was off limits. But still, Samantha hollers in pain.

For a brief moment, the Mistress stops whipping Samantha. Dr. Sammy is helplessly lying on her stomach, weeping nonstop. Is she actually crying or is she pretending to be crying? Jonathan couldn’t tell. Samantha’s beautiful body is now covered in swollen red streaks. No blood. No evidence of her skin breaking. But the redness on her body appears authentically painful. If she’s really crying because of the pain, Jonathan could understand why.

“Have you had enough, little white bitch?”

Samantha rolls on her back and looks up at the Mistress. Real tears are streaming from her eyes. She’s choked up. She’s sobbing uncontrollably. Jonathan considers intervening, but what the hell could he do? He looks at Mistress Nguvu’s face. She looks angry. Genuinely angry. Jonathan is afraid. He is clueless about what to do next.

“No answer. Pathetic. Fucking pathetic. I always want an answer. I demand an answer from you, little white cunt. You fucking piece of garbage. Just for that, I’ll give you what you deserve. I will officially make you my little slut,” the Mistress threatens.

By now, Jonathan gets it. He understands completely what’s going on here. In a “reverse slavery” motif, Samantha is, within the context of BDSM play, receiving the same treatment African slaves received from their white slave masters. The supposed “cathartic” experience she’s getting from this is feeling the same excruciating humiliation her ancestors brought upon Mistress Nguvu’s ancestors.

Mistress Nguvu, a dominant and powerful black woman, is unleashing relentless physical pain upon a wealthy, educated, privileged white woman. The irony is, of course, how they are reversing the historic roles their predecessors played centuries ago. Dr. Sammy must feel as though her white guilty conscience can come clean after this. Perhaps Mistress Nguvu gets a small degree of vicarious revenge as well.

The rope. And no, this isn't "Clue!"
The rope. And no, this isn’t “Clue!”

The Mistress throws the whip down and straddles herself on top of Samantha’s weary body. She leans over and kisses her. Her tongue slips into Samantha’s mouth. She still has not stopped crying. Her sobs and the tongue entering her mouth cause her to gag. Nguvu snickers condescendingly.

“Jonathan,” Mistress Nguvu says.

Jonathan awakes from his trance. For the first time since they shook hands, the Mistress addresses him directly. Awoken from the spell she’s cast over him, Jonathan dutifully replies.

“Yes, Mistress?”

Mistress Nguvu continues to sit on top of Samantha. The large black dildo pokes her in the back of her head. Dr. Sammy’s persistent wails fill the room. Jonathan’s heartbeat skyrockets. The room is dead quiet. The Mistress then speaks:

“I’m about to give this little slut the next phase of her punishment. But this time, I need your help.”