This story is pornoGRAPHIC fiction! Should depictions of homosexual acts or interracial domination offend your sensibilities, read no further!! If you're under the age of consent, turn back at once!!! Otherwise, read on...
THUG CASH MASTER, by Skorpio
Part Eight: Punishment
Early the next morning bright sunlight flooded the living room, waking Reese on the sofa. He sat up and stretched, tensing his muscles. The brother was naked, a living sculpture in black marble and his cock was rock-hard.
The first thing Reese remembered from the night before was tapping the whiteboy's ass. Although not a real cunt, that hole was tight and hungry for his dick. On another level, it just felt good putting dick to a cracker.
Reese looked around the room. Against one wall was an altar where the slavish whiteboy worshiped him. Reese's photo was flanked by two tall black candles. The brother's ample lips parted in a selfish, self-satisfied grin.
With cat-eyes like Tyrese and the physique of Terrell Owens, Reese was blessed with the face and body of a Nubian God and he knew it. He was a god, compared to this pitiful white faggot. He liked being worshiped. Maybe that's the way it was supposed to be. Maybe whiteboys were meant to serve Black Men.
Reese found his cash slave sleeping soundly on the bedroom floor, right where he left him after giving the whiteboy an ass-fucking he would never forget. Brad was curled up on his side in a fetal position, snoring lightly, still wearing the collar and chastity belt with his hands cuffed behind his back and his mouth gagged with a sock.
Seeing a puny caucasian trussed up like this gave the nigga a measure of satisfaction, not to mention a surge of contempt. He nudged the whiteboy in his side with his bare foot.
Brad groaned and opened his eyes. Reese towered over him, naked and hard. Brad's asshole was sore and every muscle in his body ached. He wanted to close his eyes and go back to sleep. More than anything it was the sight of Reese's rigid cock that dragged him into wakefulness.
"Make breakfast, bitch!" Reese demanded. "And roll me a fuckin' joint!"
Reese untied the gag from Brad's mouth and unlocked the cuffs around his wrists. There was something about seeing a whiteboy in bondage that steeled his dick.
"Sir, may I use the bathroom first?" said Brad.
"Yah, sure," Reese acquiesced. "Do what you gotta do, then get my breakfast on the table. You should have been did that!"
Brad quickly peed in the toilet, and then washed his face and hands before proceeding to the kitchen where he prepared scrambled eggs and toast. There hadn't been time to purchase grits or more bacon.
As before, Reese chowed down at the kitchen table while Brad took his meal in the living room.
Reese spent Saturday morning chilling in his new crib, smoking joints, drinking a few beers, channel surfing, while Brad did his time at the altar, kissing the floor 100 times, reciting: "I am a little white worm."
Those words sank deep into his soul and affirmed his sad existence for what it was worth. Brad was a little white worm, nothing more, and he knew it. It was almost degrading for Brad but not quite as this ritual had the effect of engorging his penis.
Not that Brad's little penis could get too stiff, restricted by the chastity belt. Brad found it was painful getting hard.
While Reese smoked herb and channel surfed, Brad scrubbed the bathroom spotless and changed the sheets on Reese's bed (formerly Brad's). When the clock struck noon, Reese summoned Brad who kneeled before him.
Brad wore a white tee-shirt. Briefs covered his steel and plastic chastity belt. Reese was still nude. Brothers like him prefer going naked whenever possible. Reese didn't have a home of his own. Usually he slept on his sister's couch in the house she inherited from their parents.
"You doin' a good job cleanin' the crib, but I got somethin' else for you to do."
"Yes, God!" Brad's voice quavered.
"Good slave." Reese liked calling this pitiful whiteboy a slave. It sounded right and made sense.
"Now, listen up, yo! I got a shopping list for you. These stores are right down the street. You got one hour to find everything on this list and get yo' ass back here, understand?"
"Yes, Sir," said Brad.
"If you ain't back in an hour, I'm gonna hurt ya!" Reese promised.
"Yes, Sir, I understand, Sir."
"Good bitch. Before you go, gimme some head."
Brad went down on Reese's erect cock at once, sucking hard and deep, taking it in his throat. There was strength and power in Reese's dick. Brad sucked and slurped.
"Aiight, that's enough," said Reese, pushing Brad away. Reese stood up. "Kiss my ass."
Brad planted his soft lips on Reese's muscular butt cheeks.
"Yah, kiss my Black ass, worm! That's right. Kiss it, bitch! Now, lick my asshole, whiteboy. Get it wet with yo' tongue!"
Brad spread Reese's tight brown cheeks apart and thrust his eager pink tongue into the crack, slurping away, relishing the tang. This went on for twenty or thirty minutes before Reese told him to stop and get dressed.
"Remember, you better be back in one hour!"
"Yes, God, I understand, Sir."
After Brad set out on his mission, Reese spoke to a few of his homeboys on his new cell phone. No one had seen Reese for a few days.
Reese told his nigga Malik that he was gonna be laid up at a bitch's crib for a few days. Reese and Malik went back to grade school. They grew up together.
Malik wanted to know who this bitch was and where they met, so Reese admitted it was a white slut he picked up the park, which was the truth.
Reese was dying to break down the real deal, but knew Malik would want in on the goldmine and Reese wasn't about sharing a cash slave.
When Brad returned from his shopping mission twelve minutes late, Reese was pissed.
"What don't you understand about sixty minutes, bitch?" he shouted. "I told you to be back here in an hour. Did you think I was joking??? "
Reese didn't like this one bit. The whiteboy had to be punished. He needed to be taught total obedience. No half-stepping could be tolerated. Either Reese was the Master or he wasn't.
After Brad put the groceries away and mixed Reese a Tanqueray and tonic, Reese told him to fetch a belt from the closet.
"You need to be taught a lesson, bitch!"
Brad was told to drop his trousers and grab his ankles
He stripped down to his chastity belt.
"Bend over and grab yo' ankles, bitch!" said Reese.
Reese gave the whiteboy a dozen fierce whacks with a leather belt. At the first stinging blow, Brad yelped. It was more painful than anything he had ever experienced.
Reese didn't hold back. He applied the belt to Brad's plump white booty as fiercely as he could.
Reese told Brad to shut the fuck up or he would get five more strokes every time he opened his mouth. Brad grit his teeth and took the beating.
Reese whupped Brad hard. This was one cracker who was gonna learn to do exactly what he was told!
"Listen up, worm!" said Reese. "When I say be back in an hour, that's what I fucking mean! Not an hour and twelve minutes, you got that through yo thick head, bitch???"
He swung the belt as hard as he could and thought about slaves in the old South who took lashings far worse than this. The whiteboy had it coming. One hard whack of the belt followed another.
Whack! Whack! Whack!!!!!!
After the twentieth and final slap, Brad crumpled to the floor in tears. His fleshy buttocks felt raw. If he could have seen his ass, he would have observed broad crimson welts raised across his plump, milky-white cheeks.
Brad was in extreme anguish. Tears ran down his face.
He never wanted to get whupped like this again. He couldn't handle the pain and Reese knew it.
"You gonna disobey me again, worm?"
"No, Sir!" whimpered Brad, breathing heavily, sweating, crying, broken, crushed, conquered.
"Give me 100 pushups, slave!" ordered Reese, casually sipping his gin and tonic.
Brad started enumerating pushups, but faltered at 25. He rested for a moment on the floor, until Reese kicked him in the head.
"Keep goin'! I didn't tell you to stop!"
Brad struggled to pump out another 25, then dropped to the floor exhausted after gasping "fifty!" and got kicked in the head again, this time a little harder. Brad's ears rang and his chest and arms were sore.
Reese smirked. He wished Malik could see this shit, taking a belt to a white dude, breaking the bitch down into a fucking cry-baby sissy.
Beating the whiteboy with a belt gave Reese almost as much pleasure as fucking him in the ass!
TO BE CONTINUED. . . IN PART NINE: MAKING THAT MONEY.