Beg Me (17 page)

Moisha’s thin gold-frame spectacles were like an accent to her sensuality. She had this chirpy light Southern drawl I couldn’t quite place.

I could see Gordon’s penis, a dangling sausage that was longer than thick. Moisha sat against him, and as they talked, his right hand idly stroked the rise of her shaved pussy mound. It was surreal, waking up to them like this, and they spoke as if we’d been talking for a while; it was like suddenly walking in on a TV program. There was a connection break somewhere—I felt like I was behind a membrane of water.

I tried to remember something, something about methods of persuasion. Denial of food, isolation—no, concentrate on what they’re saying.

“We are submissives, we should be submissives,” Moisha was saying. “I consider myself a strong black woman. My mother was a strong black woman. She was mother and father to us, she was the bedrock of my family, provider, gave all the discipline. But there is something wrong in this culture when so much is put on her shoulders and mine. You look at all the bad stuff happening in the world, and it’s not just the breakdown of a family unit. You got strong ones here and there. It’s the breakdown of the
extended
family unit….”

“Yes,” I said weakly. My parents only had my brother and me, but I loved it when the whole clan on my mum’s side would gather for special occasions, have a party. I missed it. “Yes…”

“You must submit in the end to a strong black man,” Moisha argued, “because all this ‘equals’ bullshit is just delaying things. If you know what’s expected of each other, there’s no more friction, no more power struggle. You
give
your power to your man, and he’s strengthened by it.”

“Yes…”

“We’re an extended family here,” Gordon said with a polite smile. But I wasn’t looking at his face. My mind was drifting, enjoying the sight of his chest, his biceps, his long cock. I didn’t care about my own nudity anymore because I had crawled around naked for a week already as a pet. And in this moment, right here, right now, I could barely even feel my body.

“Isaac says our history has robbed us of so much that we must be like children again.”

“Children…?”

“Yes,” said Moisha. “There are no jealousies, because every princess serves every prince. With true maturity comes fidelity, and
then
you stay with one mate. But if the process is rushed, if it’s mishandled, then your black brothers are competing against one another. You’ve got jealousies and envies among your sisters. There’s no fidelity unless there’s fidelity to the family first.”

“Oh—okay…”

Feeling drowsy again.

“Ow!”

I started, abruptly shot back to wakefulness. Moisha had reached out and pinched my nipple, hard. Now she was giggling, biting her bottom lip.

“I’m sorry, I’m sorry!” I said quickly. “I’m just…”

“We know,” said Gordon.

“It’s a difficult stage to graduate,” said Moisha. “But you’ll have your revelation, and then it’ll be so wonderful. You’ll be one of us!”

“Yeah…” I had to change positions to avoid my legs cramping, prop myself up on one hand.

“Do you understand the things we’re telling you?” asked Moisha. “There should be no such thing as blind obedience. That’s pet-level stuff. To really follow, to really submit, you have to comprehend in order to sincerely obey.”

I didn’t know how I was expected to respond to this. I offered a weak nod. All at once Moisha reached out and pinched my nipples again, snapping me back to attention.

“Hey!”

Giggling unapologetically, she glanced at Gordon and said, “I think we’ve found a discipline center!”

“Yeah, it hurts,” I protested.

“It doesn’t hurt you that much, I bet,” she said mischievously. “You must have had worse pain for your initiation, right? Come on! Would you let yourself be disciplined like this for your revelation?”

“I—”

“We should let her meditate on it,” she told Gordon, and he grunted an affirmation and they got ready to leave.

“I don’t need to think about it,” I said.

They sat down again.

Moisha’s voice hardened a little. “This is nothing. If you want to be one of us, sister, you have to accept the
freedom
of others deciding for us, of taking responsibility for us—and that has to include discipline. Am I right? Tell me I’m right.”

“You’re right.”

“Well, don’t say it like a parrot, girl!” she laughed. “If you don’t believe it or understand it—”

“I do, I do.” I would have said anything at that moment, my head swimming, unable to think straight, but knowing I had to please them to pass the ordeal.

“Kneel,” Gordon commanded.

I got on my knees, bowed slightly.

“Listen, honey,” said Moisha, and I heard the musical Southern accent again, and she dropped her voice to almost a whisper. “Don’t look at him, but be for him. You understand? We serve. We care. We submit to please. So anything I do now to you isn’t sexual from me to you, it’s for him. Can you handle that?”

I nodded.

Moisha’s fingers moved toward my breasts again, pinching me, but this time I didn’t feel the pain. It actually kind of stimulated me now. Then she flattened her hands and cupped me, fondling me with a tentativeness that was a signal there was no desire in her, all of this for Gordon’s benefit. Putting on a show. But I was getting aroused.

She wasn’t Busaba or my past lesbian lover, but in my fogged head I remembered golden hands…I glanced just in time at Gordon and saw his erection rising before my trembling moan betrayed me.

Moisha stopped.

“You don’t look at me,” snapped Gordon.

“Yes, my prince.”

His hand flashed out and for a moment I thought he was about to enforce some discipline of his own. His hand stopped in midair, hovering above my thigh, and I felt my juices starting.

And then I fainted.

On the fifth day, I ate my grapes, drank only a little water, and then had my “revelation.” In retrospect, they drew you a map. They made it easy for you.

I realized those manacles hanging from the wall were there for a reason. Slowly, I staggered half asleep over to the wall, clamped the first bracelet shut on my wrist with a confident sense of finality, had to nudge the other one closed with my chin. I stood on my toes to do it, and then I hung there, nude, waiting—only able to brace myself against the stone with the soles of my feet to give my arms a minor reprieve from gravity.

They could come in and free me.

They could come in and fuck me, discipline me, abuse me.

Making the ultimate sacrifice and declaration of trust. Take me now!
Accept me.
I am yours.

My own sweat polishing my body, thick in my nostrils, hoping they wouldn’t make me wait too long.

And beyond all this, the desire for catharsis, whether from discipline or sex—I didn’t care which, because I
knew
that my body would orgasm with either one.

They were brilliant. They were geniuses.

I had been looking for years for the ultimate sexual ful-fillment, and now I knew that I was home.

If we just give ourselves over, no more struggle, no more despair.

He came in when I dozed off. Gordon. He walked up to me, naked, like a stalking panther. He was on me in five short steps, and he didn’t ask permission, he didn’t talk to me, and he didn’t even look in my face. It was as if he took in the whole sight of me, approved casually of what he saw, and devoured me like a meal.

I felt a large light-brown hand cupping my left breast, another sliding between my legs to explore me, rubbing, fondling, making me wet, until two of his fingers pushed into my vagina. He must have known I was wet and ready even when he walked in. My exhausted arms moved, and the manacles jangled, but it wasn’t any pretense of struggle. He sucked my right breast into his mouth as his hands gripped my buttocks to lift my weight. I could feel his long hard cock pressed against my belly.

I hadn’t seen her come in. Moisha.

Gordon and Moisha traded smiles, and I looked at her with a dazed expression of faint curiosity mixed with resignation.

I whimpered a little as he let me down, and then Moisha filled my scope of vision, and her fingers caressed my sweaty face, and she kissed me. My mouth opened for hers, accepting, but she pulled back, wiped her lips, and then I understood it was nothing but a distraction.

I felt the mild pinching pain in both my nipples.

She had put clips on them, both on tiny silver chains that connected to a single lead.

I trembled slightly at what I felt was coming.

I felt Gordon’s cock against my belly, slap against my thigh, and then his hands were back on my ass, lifting me again, and
uhh,
filling me up, my shoulder blades against the cold stone wall, my arms helpless in the manacle bracelets. Gordon began a rhythm, long cock plunging into me up to the hilt, and
uh, uh, uh,
and then a sudden mild yank of the silver chain, pulling on my nipples. Tiny focused pain with pleasure.

His large hands squeezing my breasts as he braced me for a second against the wall, pumping me fiercely again and again, and
uh,
another tug on the chain.

“Aaahhh! Aaaaahhhh!”

And the chain was long enough that it slid over Gordon’s shoulder, perhaps exciting him too with its kiss of metal, and I could see past him, past his freckled cheek buried in my neck now, my eyes wide, urging her to do it again—

I knew she was getting off on the flex and quiver of his hard buttocks as he rammed me hard now, and Moisha was gently rocking. I could just make out that she was masturbating. But as I shook violently in his arms, she was mindful enough to give another tug.

It made me scream so loud I thought the windows would break. More powerful than what I had experienced in Oliver’s dungeon, so much more exhilarating and ecstatic.

Only after he came did Gordon kiss me.

Moisha approached afterward and kissed me on both cheeks like a sister.

And then the two of them left me hanging there.

I wasn’t done.

All the affectations of a formal ceremony: ten of the princes walked in, looking dignified in their robes, carrying clothes and bowls and jugs of water. I couldn’t recognize any of them because the robes they wore this time had hoods, casting the upper halves of their faces in shadow. And yet they were each loosely knotted, so that I caught brief glimpses of strong brown legs, of here and there a patch of brown hip, of their dangling cocks in silhouette.

They washed me. It was both mildly arousing and degrading, and they saved the task of washing between my legs for Jimmy, the only one recognizable because his blue hood was down. He kept softly mumbling, “Please,” just like the first day I had met him. “Please.” He must be the sub who had replaced Andrew Schacter.

The faces in shadow kept watching me, their anonymity giving this moment a charge of danger. More psychological games, the final relinquishing of ultimate privacy. I felt myself close to bursting into tears. Who was I kidding? They had broken me….

Two of the princes fondled me briefly, and then one began to smear sandalwood massage oil on my breasts and belly. An inexplicable ritual. Without a word, they undid the manacles and helped me down, and my legs gave out under me. I tried to kneel and couldn’t. Weak, I fell back on my ass and found myself sitting against two of the hooded princes offering their palms straight out, not so much serving as my backrest as propping me up. I heard footsteps coming in—a line of dignified princesses, all of them naked and led by Danielle.

I watched her ripe body seem to float before me, gliding to the spot a few feet in front of where I was slumped, and with her best vixen smile she looked right at me and then turned. A vision of a perfect back, pale, its graceful curve of spine leading down to two tight round buttocks, and she knelt as if pouring herself onto the floor and then lay down. The rest of the princes in front of me seemed to come together in a swirl of colored fabric, but as the swarm collected and fell back, I saw that none of the men had actually touched her. She was waiting for one of them, though, her knees up, her legs open.

A hooded prince knelt down, parting his robes below the waist, and I saw eleven inches of thick hard cock—an angry crimson, its veins defined—hover rudely above Danielle. My eyes flicked for a moment to the others. The women…Each girl’s mouth was parted in unconscious desire, and one girl’s fingertips nervously rubbed her own thigh. The princes were riveted, watching, clearly turned on but trying to disguise their own growing hard-ons over our duchess.

I heard the faint tiny wet sound of that enormous cock pushing between Danielle’s vaginal lips, seeking entry, and then her gasp as she was filled up. Only now did I notice the coppery skin as the sash loosened, and the strong chest practically burst from its robe. Coppery complexion, yes, as the chin came into view, a neatly trimmed dark goatee beard, mouth panting slightly with the exertion. Danielle’s black hair curved behind her in an inky smear, her full breasts quivering as he pumped her relentlessly with almost a vengeance of lust. Her eyes shut, and as she threw her arms around him to pull him close with her orgasm, his hood came down at last, and he looked up at me. He watched me as he fucked her. Isaac.