Forced?? Pt 4

Daddy had trained me well. Since I met him, he engrained in me that my place was at the beck and call of black cocks.

Part 1 | Part 2 | Part 3


“What the fuck did you say to me bitch?”

Uh oh. I’d pissed Daddy off.

I’d been whoring for Daddy for three weeks now. I can’t remember the number of black gentlemen who have enjoyed what I have to offer them. Still using my hotel room, every penny I earned went to Daddy. But that was a problem. The hotel wanted their room paid for and my credit cards have been maxed out. Between the room and Daddy buying himself clothing and entertaining ladies, we blew through my limit. Now the bank like the hotel, was dunning me for payment. So I had gone to Daddy and asked for his advice.

“I’m broke Daddy. The hotel is threatening to throw me out of my room and I have no where to go. My credit cards are worthless now and I have no money.”

It is an upscale hotel but the lounge is a well known hangout for white sissy prostitutes and the black ex-cons we cater to.

Working for Daddy was dangerous. The thrilling sense of worthlessness and being in constant fear of the man I loved was compelling. I was drawn to him for those very reasons.

But now I was really scared. Daddy didn’t like white people at all and sometimes I think he hated us sissies who worked for him. One of his sissies was caught holding out on Daddy. When Daddy found out he took her out of the lounge to talk with her. When he came back, he was alone.

“Apparently the little faggot was so distraught with guilt she threw herself off the roof,” was the only explanation he offered.

The hotel help found her the next morning, naked and dead in the alley behind the building. It was ruled a suicide. It was said that there were some bruises on her that the coroner was unable to explain. But, as usual when one of Daddy’s bois goes missing or dead, case closed.

Now here I was standing before Daddy and one of his white girl friends trying to explain my situation.

He growled at me. “You mother fucking white faggot piece of shit. I give you everything and you want more. You ungrateful cunt. Be careful bitch, I hear you can’t fly either.”

An obvious reference to the dead whore.

I started to cry. I was so frightened and so helpless. “Daddy,” I wept. “I don’t know what to do.”

By now the whole lounge had caught on that I was pissing Daddy off. All eyes were on us.

With alarming quickness Daddy leaped from his chair. In a quick motion he grabbed the front of my romper and tore it completely off. I was left in a pretty leopard print panty, garter and hose, and ho shoes. Daddy removed his belt and holding my upper right arm, he began to beat me in front of the lounge patrons.

Daddy had beaten me before. In fact, he called them tune-ups. Usually when he was stoned on one drug or another, he liked to tune up a white sissy. Sometimes when business was slow, he blamed us and had us select from the 5 of us, which one of us was going to relieve him of his anger.

We’d rock, paper, scissor, until the last loser was identified. Then we would stand and watch as Daddy applied his special training techniques.

But this was different. Daddy had a look in his eye like he was going to kill me.

He growled obscenities at me as he whipped me. I thrashed about, crying out in pain with each blow. Daddy held my arm preventing me from getting away.

When Daddy stopped whipping me and freed my arm, I dropped to the floor at his feet. Crying and groveling, I knelt there head bowed as he chastised me in public.

“See this punk, this ungrateful faggot? I made this bitch everything she is today. I give her the chance to do something with her life, to be what I knew her to be. I showed this cunt how to dress, had her taught how to keep herself looking fuckable. I gave her the pleasure of my cock. I broke her in and turned her out. And this is the thanks I get.”

I held his ankles, gently of course, during his out burst. While I still had tears in my eyes, I was unashamed by Daddy’s tirade. He had taken my self esteem. I was his property and I knew that my selfishness had brought this on. I felt some pride that he would show the entire room that I was his to do with as he pleased.

My little clit was hard from the beating. Daddy had awakened the masochist in me and I found pleasure in the pain when he graciously applied his attention to me.

Thinking back to those heady days when we first met, Daddy had trained me well. Since I met him, he engrained in me that my place was at the beck and call of black cocks. My self worth was based only on the pleasure I could bring black men and the money I could make for Daddy. Prior to that, I’d been a married self employed, thriving individual. But I was really wasting my talents, as Daddy told me.

He fucked me in the shower in the hotel’s gym without my permission. Some would call that rape, and indeed, I thought it was rape myself. Then I confronted Daddy in the lounge afterwards and he continued to show me my place.

Since he had taken me to Ms. Siobhan for a make-over, Daddy kept me supplied with a steady supply of HRT pills and opioids. The opioids made me more accepting of Daddy’s training and more dependent on him. The hormone therapy made me feel more feminine. I had begun to sprout tiny little boobs and my nipples had become very tender. There were other changes from those pills that made me more desirable to black men and I earned Daddy a lot of money in a short 3 weeks.

So by now I felt the male inside me had died and Daddy had brought out the woman in me. He told me I was better for it and I believed him. Over and over, as I nursed on his cock, Daddy would explain my role, my place in his world. He convinced me that I was no more than a piece of ass and it was my place to support him by whoring. He scoffed at the notion that I could make him more money with my business than I could being his prostitute. Daddy told me that he wanted this for me. He wanted to debase me, take away any pretense of my being anything more than his faggot whore.

“I get more pleasure punking you white motherfuckers out and making you cock craving whores than I do when you suck my cock Pink. Call it what you will but I don’t like white people. But now you’re not really a person are you? You’re a character, a figment of my imagination. Every time you go out, people see your tattoos, your clothing and they know what you are.”

As strange as it may sound, I was glad he decided to make me his property. The first time he allowed me to service his cock, something in me clicked. It felt so right, so natural for me to be on my knees slurping and pleasuring a beautiful black cock. Whites are inferior to black men and we should be there for their pleasure. Daddy taught me that.

So now I’m kneeling at his feet in the lounge as he berates me to the customers. Finally finished, Daddy grabbed a handful of my carefully coiffed hair and had me crawl along side him back to his seat by his white girl friend.

“Stay on your knees bitch until I figure out what I’m gonna do with your ass. I’m thinking a trip to the roof if you fuck up like that again.”

His lady was amused. Chuckling, she asked what was so special about the roof.

Daddy chuckled back at her, finally coming down off his anger, “I like to see if my sissies can fly when they piss me off.” Then he laughed out loud, probably remembering the poor sissy that threw herself off a week or so ago.

I knelt there beside the couple and as they drank, Daddy reached under the table and finger fucked his date. She moaned in appreciation and finally came.

“Taste this faggot,” Daddy said as he offered the pussy moistened finger.

I took the finger in my mouth and remembered the taste of pussy. “Familiar ain’t it faggot?” Daddy sneered. “You ain’t getting any more of that.”

Then Daddy rose and taking his date in one hand and me by my hair he led us out of the lounge. We got in the elevator and Daddy pressed the button for the top floor.

When we got out of the elevator Daddy took us to the stairs that led to the roof.

I panicked. “Please Daddy, no,” I begged. “Please no, please Daddy, I’ll be good.”

“Shut the fuck up bitch,” Daddy growled. “You pissed me off girl.”

I squirmed and struggled to get away as we climbed the stairs. Crying and pleading with my Daddy, I knew he was going to throw me off the roof. Real terror gripped me. I was wildly flailing and crying to no avail. I felt so helpless, so dependent on Daddy for my very life. Those feelings made my dick hard.

As we exited the stairway onto the roof I continued to fight and struggle. I was so frightened I peed myself.

“Are you really going to throw him off?” Daddy’s date asked.

“Nah. I just wanted to scare the bitch.”

Daddy tossed me down in front of him. Then he opened his fly, pulled out his cock and pissed on me.

I lay there feeling relieved and humiliated as Daddy pissed on me, washing away any pride I might have had left. He soaked my body, my hair, and my face with his urine while he and his Lady laughed.

As Daddy shook out the last drops and put his cock away he told me to clean up and get dressed. “You can’t make me money lying around covered in piss.”

Remembering that my room key card was in the romper Daddy ripped off of me, I had to go to the lounge to retrieve it.

“You ain’t riding with us,” Daddy laughed as the elevator door closed. “You smell like piss Pink. Jesus Christ faggot.”

I waited for the next car to arrive and endured the smirks and insults from the lounge patrons as I retrieved my ruined romper and key card.

Finally in my room I discarded the ruined romper, rinsed out my panty, showered and washed my hair.

It took me awhile to blow dry it and tease my hair out to it’s fullness. Then I reapplied my make-up, wriggled into a garter belt and hose.

Going through my closet to select my next outfit, I settled on some semi-transparent harem pants, a loose, short vest, and a deep maroon colored, bikini panty.

Returning to the lounge, I knew I looked sexy. The men, even those sitting with their sissy whores, turned to watch me strut in.

Daddy was back in his usual seat, still with his date. He watched me closely to make sure that I would continue with my work.

A large black man came to me and asked me to dance with him.

As the piano played a slow song, he embraced me in his huge arms and led me to the dance floor. Then, one hand on my ass and the other holding my hand, he led me around the floor grinding his large cock against my bare midriff.

His finger probed my bottom through my pants and panty and I knew he wanted to fuck me. “How much it gonna cost me faggot?”

“Two hundred sir”, I replied. Then I placed my face on his broad chest as we danced and waited for his response.

Our dance finished, he pulled two, one hundred dollar bills from his pocket and handed them to me. “Let’s go,” was all he said.

“Just a minute big boy,” I said coyly. I went to Daddy and handed him his $200.00.

Daddy took his money from me without a word and I returned to my customer and went to my room with him. On the ride up, the big man took me in his arms and kissed me. Our tongues danced together as I reached for and stroked his cock through his trousers.

Breaking our kiss when we got to my floor, I led the man to my room.

He removed his shoes and socks and watched as I took off my vest and skinned down my harem pants.

In only my maroon panties and hose, I went to my customer and knelt in front of him. I unfastened his belt and trousers and pulled his pants down and off. Nuzzling his erection through his underwear, I teased him for a few minutes.

My date moaned his appreciated of my handling his cock. “I love a white faggot,” he sighed. “You punks can’t get enough of nigger cock can you?”

His words excited me. He was right. Ever since Daddy allowed me the privilege of sucking his cock, I’ve wanted black cocks to part my lips. Pleasing black men was what I was meant to do. It was my duty to kneel before a black God and make oral love to his manhood.

I pulled his briefs down and off and grabbed his nice specimen of cock and, beginning at his ball sack, used my tongue all the way up to the crown. Taking him in my mouth, I gave him my best effort.

“Two hundred bucks buys a nice blow job punk,” he said. “But I gotta fuck that fine ass of yours boi.”

Having a real man tell me I had a fine ass made me feel so feminine.

He led me to the bed and watched as I removed my panties. “How so you want me fine sir?”

“Ride my cock bitch.”

I squatted over his manhood and took it in my hand. I lowered myself slowly on his erection as he grabbed me by my hips.

I bent and held on to his ankles as my date set the pace. At first he went slow, enjoying the way my boi pussy clenched his cock. As his excitement grew, so did the speed with which he fucked me.

We both were moaning our lust when I felt his cock swell. My date started heaping verbal abuse on me while pumping his load in me. “Ah God you fine assed faggot. Take my load bitch boi. Wish I could put a baby in your faggot ass.”

His abuse brought me over the edge. I came with him, feeling his cock pulsing his sperm.

His cock softened and slid out of me. Both of us lay there satisfied. Then I heard my gentleman say, “what the fuck? You got your sissy cum on my leg.”

I didn’t see the blow coming. He knocked me upside my head and onto the floor. I hurried to the bathroom and fetched a wash cloth. “He’s such a man”, I thought as I gently cleansed his cock and the cum on his leg.

By now I was used to the rough treatment from my gentlemen callers. Black men are naturally aggressive and I’ve come to appreciate that. Besides pleasing their cocks, absorbing the punishment and disdain they dole out takes me further down the path of submission.

I apologized profusely. “I am so sorry sir. It was an accident. In no way did I mean for my useless sperm to land on you.”

As he dressed I thanked him for the wonderful fuck. He ignored me and left without saying a word.

I cleaned the cum dripping from my ass and checked my make-up. Then I dressed again and went down to the lounge and back to work.

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6 thoughts on “Forced?? Pt 4

  1. Dave says:

    I have intense fantasies of being submissive but without the element of physical danger or abuse which ruined this story for me. Also the racial element. My fantasies are excited by verbal abuse and being feminized and nothing but a sex object for wither sex but mostly men with average to big cocks’

  2. Eric says:

    The first chapter was fun but then each chapter became more degrading and unpleasant to read. Should have stopped a lot earlier

  3. Robbie says:

    “Black Men are naturally aggressive!” What I have read and seen throughout history White men are those who are naturally aggressive. It has spread all over this planet that Black Men are aggressive though your narrative to treat us as animal for centuries! Udatz May not post this but at least I hope there is one person who will delete this read it if not a computer program. Happy Black History Month to the White Authors and their followers.

  4. Shaun West says:

    If non fiction this would be terrible. As fiction it shows great imagination and showcases the underlying need some have for letting others take control. That is an aspect of life in some people we should understand. Very good writing with a knowledge into aspects of real life presented in a fictional way.

    • Rob says:

      Sorry not for me! Possibly a great fantasy but we are all Human Animals. A real life that needs to be respected and catered.

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