To the reader: You may have heard of cyber love, where two people develop a relationship of intimacy through chat room contact and emails. This is a true story of a different kind of relationship. One that has happened within the last three weeks with a bewildering speed, power and intensity, leaving me craving for the attentions of a man thousands of miles away, and struggling to fulfill his every demand.
The Predator
It was like a door opening, and I stepped through without fully checking what was on the other side. As a bisexual college athlete, Nifty Erotic Stories offers a safe outlet for my craving for man-to-man sexual contact. Yes, in high school I played around with some of my wrestling and track teammates, but we all had girlfriends and did not mix with the few 'gay' students who were out about their orientation. It has been the same in college. After sampling the Nifty categories, I soon became interested in the authoritarian stories. After reading a number of these, I stumbled over The Predator, and it hit me like an out-of control 18-wheeler. (Nifty, June 1, 2003).
Here, at last, was a story about someone I identified with. The boy telling the story is a second year university student, a fitness freak with an absent girlfriend. I am 19, a community college sophomore, doing intense weight workouts to build up my strength for the upcoming wrestling season.
The psychological interaction between the boy and the cop in the story are compelling in a way that goes beyond purely erotic. Yes, I could see myself being manhandled and abused by the Predator. Is this what I want? Why does this story open up something previously buried deep inside me? Where did all this come from?
I had never written to any of the authors of Nifty stories. But, unlike other writers the author of The Predator's invitation to write seemed genuine, like he really wanted contact with his readers. Somehow my experience with this story was so powerful I felt compelled to write and share it with the author, who had conveniently supplied an email address: questorius@yahoo.co.uk.
Interaction With an Author
I wrote my email to the author, thinking I would never hear back, other than a polite, thank you for your interest - glad you enjoyed my story. Two days later, a reply was in my email inbox. I felt a surge of excitement, wondering what he had said. But it was no polite reply, no, sir. "And which other of my stories have you read Jesse? And have you ever been dominated by a powerful man?" This abrupt, forceful style made me feel this man could have been the model for the Predator. Sensing his power, I felt gratified by his attention. Somehow wanting, even needing more, attention from this man, I ignored the intrusive nature of his interest in my private sex life and replied.
Two more days later, he sent a further email, recommending two other of his stories, but demanding a complete report on each story. He demonstrated what he wanted in each report from his further question on The Predator: "Fuck the psychology, boy, did it get your cock hard and dribbling?" My reports did not come fast enough, and soon I felt his attention in a different way: "I gave you reference for three stories to report on. You have only done so on two. Why? Obedience is not enough. I expect it to be prompt and complete. Don't mess with me, boy. Just do as you are fucking told. Do I make myself clear?" The final report went back to him within 30 minutes.
Soon an interrogation form arrived from the man I now thought of as the Predator. It was pages of questions about myself, my living arrangements, my finances, my sexual practices and my reactions to a long list of activities, many of which I had never heard of. I was angry and resentful. What was going on here? Why was I filling out an application to be a slave? Here the final question and my actual reply.
"You have completed this initial Interrogation. Now record how you feel about the experience."
I answered, "I feel overwhelmed. Don't understand how we got from talking about your stories to my filling out this form, except that you ordered me to do so. I feel inadequate and almost certain that I will be of no interest to you as completely inexperienced. I feel miserable knowing that you will reject me."
There was nothing for two days. I checked my email at least three times a day, hoping to hear something, if only a rejection. At last, there it was, lukewarm acceptance as a trainee. Suddenly I was enrolled as a slave trainee, with my own slave name and my first assignments: submission of a daily sex report and sending a picture of my body.
Yes, this master works his slaves and trainees, every day. How did I get here? I'm no longer sure. I only know that submitting my reports and answering promptly any questions posed by the Predator is now the most exciting part of my day. But ... you, the reader, exclaim ... this is only email !!! How can he force you to submit by cyber. I don't know, but the feeling of being dominated is real. I was inordinately pleased when he approved of how my body looked, apparently accepting it as worthy of being offered to him.
Soon a second daily assignment -- reading daily a chapter of The Humiliator (Nifty, May 6, 2002) and reporting on it, along with a command to buy a dog collar, then strip naked and put on the collar before I communicated with him, whether, responding to orders, questions or submitting reports. Yes ... reader ... he ordered me to write this story, so I am writing it naked wearing my collar.
Does he read all this stuff I submit? I don't know. But he reads enough of it and remembers enough of it to begin to manipulate my life from a distance. Here are actual excerpts from his emails and my daily reports that led to the next event radically changing my life. This is what I experienced, but I do not know anything of what went through his mind as he planned and provoked this encounter. Maybe if you are lucky ... horny reader ... he will rewrite this account and add more details to give you the complete story, but don't count on it. He does what he wants.
Encounter
Sex report for Thursday, August 28.
I stopped at the campus copy center before class to have the photo of my body scanned onto disk. The man behind the counter was my least favorite of the people who work there, a big man in his late 30s with the kind of muscles that come from years of working out in a prison weight room, and he doesn't hide the fact that he doesn't like whites. He took my disk and photo, looked at it and then back at me, his lips curled. Returning from the scanner, he looked at me with the expression of some kind of animal checking out its next meal. Without another word he returned my change, and doing so poked his middle finger into my palm. My cock got half aroused.
Sex report for Friday, August 29.
I woke up in bed with a boner and jacked off, thinking about the black man in the copy center from yesterday.
Email from the Predator, Saturday, August 30.
When you first mentioned the tough, old, jailbird black man in the copy shop who poked his finger suggestively into your palm when giving change, you described him as your least favourite man there. Now you tell me you used him as wank material. Well now I am going to use him because you are going back there as your first Obedience Test. Making sure he is on duty you will go in with the same pic of yourself saying, with eye contact, "I need another of these for another man. Seems men like to have pictures of my body." Yes, you really are going to say those words to that man, like it or not - and I'm hoping you hate it! When paying him you will ensure your hands touch, again with eye contact, and if he makes any vaguely suggestive remarks you will play up to them, not pretend not to have noticed! In the unlikely event that he wants to meet you, you will agree and let him use you in any way he wants.
You think all that is bad? Well, it gets worse because you are going into that shop wearing your slave collar! Oh yes you are! You can put it on outside and take it off immediately you leave if you cannot face wearing it in the street, but you will speak submissively to that big man, calling him "Sir", while wearing the symbol of your enslavement. Got it? Good! Now do it and report.
Sex report for Tuesday, September 2.
Stopped by the copy center on my way to class. The mean-looking black man was at work today. I got half aroused when I saw him through the window.
After an upper body workout in the college weight room, I showered and put on a very tight old wifebeater, which outlines every detail of my torso
I returned to copy center, put on my collar outside the door, walked up to the black man behind the counter, looked him in the eye, and said my lines, using sir to address him. His eyes widened, he looked down to my chest and abs, then back up to the collar. The corners of his lips curled in something between a smile and a leer. He took the photo and disk, scanned it in for me, looking back at me once. I smiled at him, flashing my dimples. When he turned around it appeared his cock was aroused. I paid him, touching his hand and looking into his eyes. He made change then spoke for the first time, "You wanting something more?" I said, "Yes, sir, I want anything you give me."
He smiled, shoved an order form at me, said, "Fill out your name and phone number, we'll give you a call when your order is ready." So I did and looked up at him. He nodded toward the door, so I left, my cock almost completely hard. I turned around at the door and saw him put the paper with my phone number in his pocket
Email from the Predator, September 3.
Assuming that your reporting was accurate and truthful (and I trust it was!), then this reality was every bit as good as my stories! I liked the quick-witted way he asked for your name and phone number "so he could let you know when your prints were ready." Neat. Except of course that he knows how to contact you ANY TIME he wants you!
Will your report tomorrow show that he has already phoned - or will he leave you to stew for a day or two (as I would!)? Anyway whenever he phones and no matter how often he phones, you will ALWAYS do exactly as he wants, is that clear? And you will always go to him wearing my collar as a reminder that he uses you with my permission. Whether he just wants his cock sucked, or wants a fuck, or if it transpires that he has some nasty fetish perversions, you will submit to those uncomplainingly too. And if he wants to share his bit of white-boy pussy with his friends he can. That is his choice, not yours. OK?
My hope is that this big, brutish, niggerman will exploit you unmercifully for his pleasure, and for mine, too as you report it all to me. Oh boy, you really are a piece of Filth, aren't you, Cumpump? Or even a piece of filth Filth. (Now do you see why your slavename needs caps?) I am very pleased with you and if this black bastard really does poke his nigger cock into your body (at either end, I'm easy) then you will be immediately demoted down from Trainee Slave to full Slave status! I can't say fairer than that, can I?
Niggerfucked
Sex report for September 4:
At 5:00 pm the phone rang. It was the man from the copy center - I recognized his deep rumbly voice. He tells me to meet him at a gas station not far from my house at 5:30. I go immediately erect, walk over to the gas station, arrive at 5:25, and then stand there and wait, wearing my dog collar.
Twenty minutes later an old panel truck pulls up to me. He leans over and opens passenger door without saying anything. As soon as I get in he grabs the collar, pulls my head over onto his crotch, his fly already open, and says, "Get in, cocksucker." I get my tongue in his fly, start licking base of his dick. He says, "Get it out whiteboy slut." I reach in, pulling his rapidly hardening cock out of his pants. He grabs my hair and rubs my face all over his huge cock. At a traffic light, he pulls my head up a little then forces his cockhead in my mouth. He is driving with one hand, using the other to push my head up and down on his cock. The funky smell of his sweaty crotch fills my nose. Soon he pulls into some sort of building, shouting at me, "Watch the teeth cocksucker bitch." His cock by now is so hard I have hard time taking it in my mouth in this sideways position and scrape him again.
Suddenly he yanks up my head, jumps out, grabbing my collar, yanking me out his door headfirst and slams me into the floor. He grabs me again. Two very hard slaps to the face knocking me onto the floor again. I'm yelling, "Sorry, sir . . . sorry, sir."
He speaks with a low, menacing tone, "I'm gonna teach you to suck cock good, boy." By now I have scrambled into a crouch at his feet. He reaches down, grabs me by the hair, pulls my face up to his crotch and feeds his cock into me, forcing it down my throat. It is somewhat softer now and slides right in, cutting off my air, choking me. My throat starts gagging. "Take it white trash, take my cock, its what you want, hold it in your throat." I'm gagging, feel vomit rising from my stomach, but he holds his cock in there. The spasms of my throat making his cock harder, it completely blocks my throat, keeping the vomit from rising any further. Soon my throat stops gagging, the vomit goes back into my stomach, and he pulls out to let me breath, saying, "That's the way cocksucker."
He pushes my shoulders down a little and moves his feet forward so he is straddling me, so his cock is now sliding directly down my throat. Holding me by the hair and collar, he starts fucking my face with long strokes, completely closing off my air duct when his huge cock pushes into my throat. He pumps for a while, then pulls off, rubbing his slick cock all over my face, slapping my cheeks with it saying, "White cocksucker bitch." Then he grabs me by the collar yanks me to my feet and his deep menacing voice says, "Strip!" As I take my clothes off, his hands are all over my body, squeezing here and there, testing the muscle tone. I notice we are in an old garage full of junk. He catches me looking around, slaps my face again hard, shouting, "Eyes on my cock, bitch!" I look down almost mesmerized by that huge slab of black meat.
He grabs me, slams my body up against the side of the truck, yanks my arms together behind my back, pulls a plastic strap out of his truck and ties my wrists together, then ties the strap to my collar. Then he reaches into the truck, and pulls out a dog leash! He snaps it on my collar and pulls me over to a dirty old table. He makes me lie down on my back, my arms twisted underneath on the table, grabs the collar and pulls my body so my head is hanging over the edge, then walks around and uses more plastic straps to tie my ankles to the table legs. I try to sit up, but he slams me back down onto the table, holds my chest down with his left hand and slaps my face hard with the right. "You gonna stay where I put your ass, boy." He ties the leash around the table holding me down on both ends - now I'm starting to panic, completely helpless.
He walks around my body, squeezing my legs and arms, pinching my biceps. Then he reaches in my crotch, grabs my balls and twists them. I'm moaning, my skin quivers, covered in sweat. My hard cock oozes precum onto his arm. He puts it up to my mouth and makes me lick it off, then slaps my cock hard, sending pain up through my body. Next he lines his cock up at my mouth. Because of the position of my head, he has a straight shot right into my throat, suddenly he thrusts all the way in, his big balls slapping into my face, the kinky hair of his pubes on my chin. He thrusts in and out a few times, then starts squeezing and pinching my nips while he fucks my face. This big black man is grunting like a pig while his huge cock fucks my throat raw. At one point he lets go of my nips, rubs his hands on my distended throat feeling his cock inside it, starts saying over and over, "Oh yeah, take my cock, bitch, suck it white trash." He twists my nips harder, making me groan with pain around his dick. This makes him slam harder and faster into my throat. "Take this niggerdick white trash." His grunts turn into growls, but finally he shoots deep into my throat, holds it there while a second then a third load shoot out. I almost pass out from lack of air, but finally he pulls out, wipes his wet cock all over my face as I gasp for air.
Next he unfastens my legs from the table, flips me over so I am face down now, and pushes me up on my knees. Then fastens the leg straps down on the side of the table with my legs spread. He grabs something I can't see and starts whacking my ass and the back of my thighs with it. It feels like a leather strap as it burns into my skin. Soon I'm moaning and whimpering again. My ass is ablaze with pain. He goes back to the truck, gets some kind of lube, puts some on his fingers, shoves two of them up my hole, my body shaking from the sudden violation. Then he coats his huge black cock in front of my face so I can see how big it is. "You want this cocksucker?"
"Yes sir."
"Beg for it bitch!"
"Please sir, give me your cock, sir."
"Where boy, where you want this big nigga fuckstick?"
"Up my ass sir, please fuck me sir."
"Kiss it slut!" He makes me kiss the tip of his by now enormously rigid black cock, then walks around and climbs on the table in back of me. I can feel his enormous cock at my hole. He reaches under, grabs my balls, twists hard, making me scream, and while the pain is throbbing through my body, he grabs my collar with the other hand and slams his cock all the way into my hole. "Oh yeah, take it, whiteboy . . . fuck, this hole so damn good, so damn tight!" He grabs my hips and starts plowing into my ass, pain shooting into me from this overwhelming invasion. I'm whimpering, moaning, body shaking covered with sweat. "Take it white trash, take this cock, make it feel good, work it with your hole." He keeps talking to me while he slams into me, every so often reaching down and twisting my nips or my balls. By now my cock is erect, oozing precum. The pain in my asshole subsides somewhat. "Oh yeah, whiteboy, your ass is so fucking good."
He keeps fucking me for what seems like a half hour, all the time talking trash to me, while I am moaning and whimpering. Finally he reaches around under me, grabs my cock in his big hand and says in his deep voice, "Cum for me whiteboy." He jacks me a few times. Soon a huge load erupts from my body. As my ass spasms around his cock, he slams in one more time shouting then erupts in my ass. He falls on my back, breathing hard. Finally, he reaches up, unbuckles the collar, unsnaps the leash, and yanks his cock out of my ass. Suddenly I feel his hands down there. He is feeding the collar up into my asshole with his fingers, pushing it all the way in except for the buckle. He sits back, looking at my hole with the buckle sticking out, rubbing his hands over my reddened ass cheeks. I can feel him gloating at his power over me.
Finally he jumps down, and unties me. "Off!" he yells. When I stand in front of him he snaps his fingers pointing down, so I kneel at his feet. He sticks his cock in my mouth again and reaches down with his long arms, to yank the collar out of my ass, covered in lube and cum. He buckles it around my neck again. Throwing my clothes at me, he order, "Dress, slut."
"Yes sir."
Clothes on, we get in the truck again, but this time he makes me kneel on the floor of the cab. On the way back to the gas station he rubs my head, like a dog, feeling the collar with his fingertips. He pulls into the gas station, saying, "You be ready when I call next time, slutboy. Out!" I scramble out as he pulls away, peeling rubber, the door slamming shut. I stand there shaking for a while, overpowered by what has just happened to me. Finally rouse myself to start walking home when I start feeling his cum trickling down my leg.
Will there be more of this true story? The Predator has already ordered me to submit to any further use from this man. I am torn, wanting more of this extremely erotic experience, but deeply afraid of what this black man whose name I do not even know might do to me. But as always seems to be the case now, the Predator has made the decision for me, and I have submitted, settling into my role as a cyber slave.