To the reader: Many of you who read the first chapter may still doubt that a man of authority can exercise his power over another, solely through electronic means. Here is more of the story of what is happening to me in real life and real time, as this man, the Predator, keeps up relentless pressure on me, emails arriving with further demands every day, more chores to complete, more and more of my life focused on him and what HE wants. This is a true story of what is happening to me. Yes, it may seem unreal, but when your life slips out of control, YOUR OWN control, it does seem unreal. I am not the same man I was a month ago, and my world has changed radically. Again the story is told through excerpts from actual emails received and sent and daily reports submitted.
Demoted, with a New Name
Email from the Predator and my replies, Friday, September 5
The Predator gloats over what he has achieved, "Oh boy! Your meeting with that black bastard reads so exactly like a slave's fantasy that I hope it is absolutely accurate and truthful - I certainly WANT to believe it, every steaming word of it. That experience will live with you for the rest of your life as a treasured memory - and you have me to thank for it! I feel hugely pleased with myself for having engineered that!"
"I promised I'd demote you down to full slave status if that man got his cock inside your body - and boy did he ever, AND your collar shoved up your arse too! So it is slave you are from here on. You've made the grade! To befit your new status you need a new slavename. I like to find something relevant to each particular slave, and something that will make him cringe with shame every time he uses it. Your slavename will be Niggerfucked Whoreslut. You are 19 years old but if you live to be 99 you will always remain Niggerfucked Whoreslut. That name is branded on your very soul! And to think you claimed not to know what the word "Filth" meant. Let me tell you, boy, Niggerfucked Whoreslut is filth!"
The Predator asks, "The big question now is, has that black bastard had his fill of you or will he be back for more? What do you think? What do you WANT? Not that it matters what you want, the same rules apply - you will give whatever he wants, you will take whatever he gives."
As always, every question must be answered promptly. I write back, "Sir, one of the comments he made while fucking me was, 'I've been needin some good tite boypussy and you gonna give me lots of it' This makes me think he will be back for more, or maybe even want to use me on a regular basis." . As to what I want, Sir, "I crave more of his attention, want to see his big body naked in all its glory, feel his hard muscles. I want to be dominated by him, penetrated by him. The first time was soooo hot. But I'm also very afraid of him. Once he touched your collar, he seemed to flip out in a new and even more dangerous way." And further, "Yes, Sir, completely understood, Sir, that I give whatever he wants and take whatever he gives."
Exercising his control over my body, the Predator demands a report about any marks left on my body by the black man, "Now tell me, what marks do you carry on your body today as a souvenir of his use? Grazed elbows and knees? A bruised lip from where he slapped your pretty face? A collar burn from when he dragged you from the cab by your collar? (A lovely touch that! A man after my own heart!) Welts on your backside from his belt? He gave you a pretty thorough going-over so I hope you have some campaign medals to show for it? Describe.
My report must detail every mark, "I have a split lip from when he slapped me as well as a bruise on my right cheekbone. There are burns on my ankles and wrists from the plastic straps used as restraints. My knees are grazed from when he fucked me. My butt was red and inflamed, but he left no welts there. I have scraped skin up under my chin from when he hauled me out of the truck by the collar, and later yanked me around with it. There is a bruise on the back of my neck from the edge of the table when he was fucking my throat. The area around my nips is red, but not bruised. My throat is very raw and my asshole hurt when I took a shit this morning. There are minor scrapes on my forehead, chest, arms, and back."
Further Orders
The Predator jumps right into control of the action the next day, issuing further orders to me, pushing me into yet another confrontation with the black man.
Email from the Predator, Saturday, September 6
He expresses his enjoyment of the condition of my body, then proceeds to issue further orders, "So glad you have some reminders of your abuse at the hands of your Black Bruiser printed on your body. (Do you know his name?) Next time he summons you - I'm sure there'll be a next time, aren't you? - I want you to try and tell him that you were ORDERED to submit to him by your cyber Master and that I would like to contact him about future training possibilities. Ask if he will let me have his email address. You may give him mine if he wants it.
"Next week you will carry with you a slip of paper, folded in half, on which are written just five words: Thankyou Sir, your Niggerfucked Whoreslut
"At the earliest opportunity when you see him in the store (Monday?) you will enter, get eye contact and then immediately drop your gaze. Proffer the paper to him and leave as soon as he takes it, without looking directly at him again - unless he wants to speak to you and calls you back, of course, though even then your eyes should be submissively lowered in front of a Dominant Male."
At the very next opportunity I shamelessly carry out the Predator's commands, impelled by my need to please my Master and my desire for further contact with the black man who used me so roughly three days earlier.
Deuced
Daily sex report, September 8
After my weight workout, I went to the copy center. The black bruiser was behind the counter. Seeing him made my throat go dry and my heart start to thud. I walked in with the five-word thank you note folded in my hand, made eye contact, then dropped my eyes and handed him the note, turned and walked towards the door, as instructed. He yelled at me and motioned me back. When I got back to the counter, he spoke in a low voice, "Go around to the loading dock in the back."
As I turned to go out I heard him call for a woman to come and take over the counter as he needed to get more paper. Half turning at the door, I saw he was reaching for a hand truck, so I hurried around the building. As I climbed up the loading dock, a door opened and he beckoned me inside a storage area stacked with pallets of paper. "What's this note, then, whiteboy?"
Eyes down, I answered, "Sir, my master ordered me to give you a thank you note."
He came back, "Your master?"
"Yes, my cyber master, Sir. He ordered me to submit to you in any way."
"You talking 'bout over the computer, fuckboy?"
"Yes, Sir, and he would like to communicate with you by email."
"Wild, slut, absolutely fucking wild! Right now you gonna take my dick in your mouth, and in a hurry. Ain't got much time."
His big hands push me down onto my knees; he pulls his huge black cock out, yanks my head back by my hair and shoves it into my mouth. He is soon fucking deep into my throat, hands on my head, pumping it up and down on his cock. Next, he starts to rub his big cockhead right at the entry to my throat, quickly back and forth, denying me the satisfaction of feeling his dick all the way in my throat, but maximizing the tightness around the most sensitive part of his cock. Soon he grunts and shoots his cum in my mouth. Pulling out, he wipes his cock on my hair.
I continue kneeling there. "Please, Sir, my master wants to know your name and your email address, please, Sir."
He frowns at me, "Don't know 'bout that . . . who is this dude?"
Desperate to carry out the Predator's orders, I offer, "I can give you his address, please, Sir."
"Get up cocksucker, load these cartons of paper onto the hand truck. QUICK!" I load up his hand truck, then offer him a slip of paper with the Predator's email address. He grabs it, says, "Tell him my name is Deuce." Opening the door, he kicks me out onto the loading dock and then slams the door shut. As I scramble up, I blush when I notice a few passing people looking at the dirt down the front of my clothes. My cock is hard all the way home, thinking about his huge black dick jammed into my mouth. Once in my bedroom I jack off erupting in a huge orgasm.
What is going to happen to me? The Predator has already ordered me to return to the copy center with another note begging Deuce to email him. I am afraid the Predator is going to hook up with Deuce, lure him into deeper and fouler usage of my body. I am already afraid enough of Deuce's meanness and controlled violence. Once the Predator succeeds in hooking up with Deuce, it seems inevitable that Deuce's physical power will be this is taken over and directed by the Predator's controlling intelligence. The only thing saving me from a future of total degradation is their suspicions about each other. But I have the sinking feeling that the Predator will sooner or later succeed in exerting HIS will.