Zane's Z-Rated: Chocolate Flava 3 (37 page)

So the next night, I made him my specialty, linguine with clam sauce, and got a bottle of champagne. “What’s all this?” he asked, leaning down to give me a kiss that seemed to go on forever. I relaxed into his arms, then pulled back.

“Well, there’s something I want to talk to you about.”

“Uh oh, should I be sitting down?” he asked. I couldn’t totally tell what he was thinking; he has much more of a poker face than I do. Then again, I could’ve been poised to tell him anything from wanting to break up to being knocked up.

“Sure—but it’s nothing bad, at least, I hope not.” He sat down, and I impulsively decided to sit on his lap. I seem to fit there so well. He put his arm around me and I smiled at him, then bit my lower lip.

“Well … there’s something I want to share with you. I don’t know exactly why I haven’t already. I guess, because I didn’t want you to judge me. But here goes; I’m into spanking. I mean, I like to be spanked. And I used to go to these sex parties, play parties, really, where people do that, and get tied up, and watch each other. And there’s one coming up on Saturday and I thought maybe we could go together.” I finished the last sentence all in a rush. I was tempted to shut my eyes as I awaited what felt like a verdict, but I didn’t. If I was going to be fully myself with my boyfriend, to let him see all of me, then I had to be bold and brave.

He looked at me steadily, his blue eyes searching my brown ones. “Oh, honey … that’s your big secret? That’s nothing to be ashamed of. In fact, I’m, well, I’m interested in it also. I’ve never done it, but I’ve thought about spanking women before. Thought about it a lot.”

“You have?” I asked, shyly. Why was it so much harder to bare one’s innermost thoughts than to bare one’s body?

“Yes, and let me just say that you have the most gorgeous ass I’ve ever seen. As a guy, though, it’s a tough topic to bring up, and the one time I did, my girlfriend looked at me like I was a monster.”

I couldn’t help giggling; that was the last reaction I’d ever have. “Thank you. I guess it’s just a little hard to say, ‘I want a spanking.’ Especially because I’ve never dated a white guy before. I don’t know why it’s different; I was just nervous. You treated me with such respect it seemed rude to almost ask you to, well, do the opposite.” I did know why, deep down—I had fears, buried so deep I almost couldn’t access them, that he’d suddenly decide I wasn’t the kind of girl he wanted to be with, that spanking would be pushing things too far. I’ve had those thoughts with black guys, too, but I always got over them. Maybe I was just so into Phil I didn’t want to mess things up.

“So … what do we do now?” I asked timidly, daring to face him once more.

“I think you know exactly what to do, Christine.” Suddenly his voice was much deeper than usual, stern, almost like someone else’s. When I didn’t move, he said, “You’re going to take off every stitch of clothing you have on and get on your hands and knees right here. You’re going to show me what’s between those pretty legs and especially show me that nice, juicy ass of yours, the one you so badly want me to spank.”

And just like that, all my nervousness about him being uptight or judgmental melted away. I was trembling, but with excitement. This was Phil, my Phil, but with an edge, a toughness that made me want to see how far I could push him. I stood up and began slowly, sensuously, removing my clothes, making sure he was watching my every move. I wasn’t wearing much, so it didn’t take long, and then I got on the ground, on all fours, as he’d instructed me. This is the part that always makes me the wettest, even more than being spanked—exposing myself.

“I see all of you, Christine. I see your pink pussy lips between your legs. I see how you’ve got your sweet ass in the air, just waiting for me. Smack that pretty bottom for me with your hand.” I did it instinctively, shocked at how doing as he said turned me on, a prelude to the present he was about to give me. Soon Phil was on the floor with me, pulling me across his lap. He was clothed, I was naked, but somehow it felt so right. “I want you to count for me, baby, but I’m not going to tell you how many smacks you’re going to get. You’ll just have to trust that I know what you want. Say ‘halt’ if you want me to stop; that’s your safe word.”

“Okay, sir,” I said, the word slipping out. I’d figured that would be too loaded, too much, but Phil wasn’t just any white guy; he was
my
white guy. He knew me inside out by then, and I was ready to go there with him.

“One!” I called out as the pain settled into my bottom, quickly morphing into pleasure. Someone who doesn’t like to be spanked would only feel the former, but for me it feels like heaven.

“Two!” I shouted, and struggled to keep up as the next few land fast and furiously. By the time we got to twenty, I was tingling, aching, unsure whether I wanted more or a break. He gave
me the latter, lifting me up and carrying me into my bedroom. He licked my pussy, telling me how much he loved spanking me. “I love how you feel when I hit you,” he said, then, for good measure, landed an extra blow to my sweet spot, the part where my cheeks meet, before planting me on top of him, grabbing my hips, and slamming me down onto his very hard dick. The combination of his forcefulness and the way my ass ached brought me over the edge, and I came as he filled me all the way. His hands crafted my warm cheeks as he continued until he couldn’t hold back any longer, giving me his hot cream right where I wanted it.

• • •

So there we were, our worlds voluntarily colliding, as my fingers pressed into his hand and I ushered him into my kinky home away from home. I was grateful we’d been practicing our role-playing; much more than spanking was going on in the room. There were floggings, men and women on leashes, and a woman being dripped with hot wax—with a ball gag in her mouth! A tremor of excitement ran through me at what I was witnessing, maximized by the fact that I got to share it with Phil. With the reassurance of his hand clutched in mine, I forgot about what anyone might think. I was with the man I loved, and if someone had a problem with that, it was precisely their problem, not mine.

“How do you feel?” he asked after we’d signed in and had gotten sodas. I was sitting on his lap on a bar stool and could feel his hardness beneath me. I knew what he was really asking: Was I nervous, bored, aroused? Did I want to simply watch or partake? Now that I was here, in a space that was not just mine, but ours, I wanted to make the most of it, to show off just how horny he made me when he took me over his knee.

I turned to him and raised any eyebrow. “I want to be a bad girl.”

Phil’s hand slid down to my ass, massaging it, lifting up my skirt and placing his hand under my panties. I’d worn them only to make sure I didn’t drip onto the leather seat of his car. “How bad do you want to be? How hard of a spanking do you need, Christine?”

I whimpered; I felt heads turn when he said that. It had been a long time since anyone at these events had seen me, let alone seen me get spanked, and, truth be told, I didn’t have half the chemistry with any of my previous boyfriends as I did with Phil.

“Or do you want me to answer that?” he continued. I nodded. “You want me to tell you that you’re the naughtiest girl in the room, and that you need more than my hand tonight? You want me to take off my belt and make you give it a kiss, and then slice it in the air so everyone can hear?” I gulped, feeling tears racing to my eyes. I bit my lip and swallowed hard, nodding again. “You want me to strike your ass hard, show them all what you can take, what your pretty bottom looks like after it’s been beaten?”

Phil was certainly not the shy boy I’d feared he was at first. Once he’d gotten into being my dom, he’d taken to it brilliantly, so much so that I wondered how he held those two sides of himself in: the sweet, considerate Phil and the mean, stern, top Phil. I guess the same way I did, able to be a ballbuster at work when I needed to but wanting to take orders and get naked on command within our relationship.

“I’m going to make you do something for me, first, though, Christine. You don’t just get to beg to be spanked and have it happen, not with me. I’m going to find a man whose cock I want you to suck. I know how much you love getting on your knees
and taking a big, fat cock all the way down between those pretty lips, don’t you?”

“Yes,” I managed, because it was true. I do love going down on a man; I love everything about it. I don’t know why, exactly, but giving a blowjob makes me feel so sexy, and makes my pussy want to explode. Even more than the prospect of being watched while I sucked a stranger’s cock, though, was my excitement at having Phil be the one to choose the man.

“Good. Now I’m going to put this on you to signify that you’re mine for the night, and you’re going to take everything else off,” he said, pulling a collar from his jeans pocket. It was almost like a necklace, except it came with a chain.

“Can you do that for me, Christine?” He leaned down and whispered, giving me a final chance to back off, to settle into safe, familiar territory. But that wasn’t what I wanted, not when I knew the thrilling promise that waited for me on the other end of the chain.

“Yes, sir,” I said, and this time, it was Phil who took my clothes off. No matter how many sex parties I attend, I’ll never get used to the sensation of being totally bare, wearing just my birthday suit, brown skin gleaming, nipples high and alert, in a room full of people. It’s like the world’s gone topsy-turvy, even if there are other bare folks of all colors around us. It’s freeing in a way even the most risqué clothes can never be, and as Phil slipped the collar around my neck, I felt myself relax into sub mode.

I trusted him, and was suddenly hungry for whatever cock he was going to pick out for me. If I knew Phil, it was going to be big. “On your knees,” he said, and I immediately got in position, crawling after him, knowing everyone could see me like this. It was a risk, to so boldly claim this side of me, but I knew I was among friends, or at least, friendly perverts.

I followed Phil into a room where the sounds and smells of sex permeated the air. “Hello,” I heard Phil say. “This is my sub, Christine, and she’s looking for a cock to suck. She’s very good, I can assure you.” Hearing myself talked about in the third person sent a wave of desire through me; my pussy got even wetter. It sank in, at that moment, that I’d literally given Phil the power to select which man I’d wrap my lips around.

“I could handle that,” the man said, and then I felt something being slipped over my eyes. Phil had blindfolded me, so I wouldn’t even get to experience the pleasure of watching the cock I was about to devour. Yet, even as he took away this joy, he gave me another, the joy of pure devotion. I was trusting him with more and more as this party went on.

“Show him a good time, Christine. Show him what a good cocksucker you are, and you’ll get a very special spanking,” Phil whispered in my ear. I didn’t know the man’s name or anything about him, just that suddenly his hard cock was before my lips. I opened them instinctively, having to stretch wide to accommodate him. Then I felt something unexpected: a man who I thought was Phil pressing against my pussy!

All of a sudden, Phil’s cock was deep inside me, and I was being pushed forward against mystery man’s large shaft. I focused completely on taking it down my throat and moaned against him. His hand moved to my cheek; at first I cringed but he was being gentle, urging me on. I smiled as best I could with a cock in my mouth because this is what these parties are all about: the unexpected, the new, the wanton. They’re about doing things I couldn’t even conceive of at home when it’s just me and Phil, cozy and intimate. Getting fucked by two cocks at once, while I was collared and blindfolded, was intimate in its own way, though. I realized that as I came, shaking and trembling,
while the man I loved and a man I might never even meet, used me.

“Party on, man,” the guy said to Phil as he thrust into my mouth. I shivered because I knew now I’d get the beating I’d been promised with Phil’s perfectly vicious, beautiful belt. Party on. Exactly.

Zane

This is my confession.

I’ll admit it. I used to be one of the main people talking shit about trifling-ass men and how they can never manage to keep their dicks in their pants. All of my girlfriends, aunts, and female cousins had a variety of dogs lying up in their cribs. My aunt Delores had a black and tan coonhound named Thomas. Black hair, tan skin. He was powerful and agile, at times outgoing and stable, but when it came to keeping his dick in his pants, he was aggressive and vicious. He had something crazy like five kids outside of their eight-year relationship. I wondered when the hell he had time to fuck her if he was doing all that raw-dogging.

My cousin Sheila had a Brazilian Terrier named Davi, imported straight from Santa Catarina—they met while she was on vacation in Brazil. Once she moved his ass to the States, he became restless and started hunting small game, a.k.a. petite, thirsty chicks. Three weeks after she helped him obtain his green card, he left her for a four-foot-eleven, 90-pound, nineteen-year-old who, according to him, didn’t have a gag reflex while sucking his dick like Sheila did. Can you imagine a man coming home and saying some shit like that while he is packing? He wouldn’t have had to pack shit up in my crib; I would have tossed his ass right out the damn window!