Akina now stood erect, poised, arms outstretched and nude before The Designer and The Groomer. The high, stiff, leather collar made her neck look regale like the Ancient Queens of Africa. The warm Mallorcan breeze air-dried her freshly shaved and showered body. She had been bathed in milk, vanilla and honeysuckle and all her body hair had been removed for the evening’s event. The Groomer knelt before her trimming the remaining stubborn hair from her pubis. His nimble fingers worked quickly. Akina was beautiful and she was her Masters’ favorite.
Akina was the eldest of nine girls and had grown up in a small backwards town in the Midwest. By the time she was 19, she had been molested by her dentist, ganged raped by her boyfriend and three of his friends and had won a language scholarship to Berkeley, she spoke three fluently.
She thought of herself as a hard shell with a soft center – detached, realistic, yet compassionate. She had learned a lot in her life. The PhD in Public Policy she had scratched out from the clutches of a system that denied her most things was sweet vindication. She never thought of her failed marriages and she hadn’t heard from her kids in four years.
Working My Magic
She swallowed the tears hard. “No crying now, you’ll ruin your make-up,” she chided herself. Her children were spread to the four winds. Antonio was a professor of Theology at Tennessee State University; Dallas was touring with Missy Elliot as her hairstylist and makeup artist. Ashley was a pediatrician at Children’s Hospital in Oakland, and Alexander was in the Air Force. He was in basic training the last she heard. She had taught them well. Be independent. Live your lives as you see fit. Have no regrets when you die. And above all acknowledge and respect your Higher Power.
She was more spiritual than religious growing up a religion mongrel – her mother had practiced Baptist, Southern Baptist – there is a difference, Jehovah’s Witness, AME, Seventh Day Adventist and Catholicism.
She had experienced it all in her mother’s attempt to find solace for a life she believed not worthy of the air her God provided. If religion was truly the opium of the masses as Akina had heard, then her mother was an addict and overdosing on it. She had carted Akina and her sisters around to every tent revival she could find. “Looking for peace, some inner peace.”
Akina had opted for the older religions, Ifa, had set her free and Religious Science had quenched her intellectual understanding of Spirit. She’d have none of that hell and damnation just for being born.
This, this was about her Healing. The choosing to be submissive, especially in satiating her libido. Before, she had no choice in the sex and the beatings. Life with Khane had taught her a lot about the many facets of pain and endurance. This time all were on her terms and she was being well compensated. Her philosophy was one of strength and power through submission. Akina felt that those who needed to control were themselves weak and scared. Only the truly strong could relinquish the need to be in control.
It wasn’t about money either. She had worked as a VP of Business Development for a major investment firm, so this was NOT about money. It was nice; she chuckled deep within, but this was definitely not about money. This was about power and choice. This time things had been negotiated and contracts signed. Taureans love order and consistency. In her mind she had achieved both.
Her fetish had developed from a dark desire that perceived deviant behavior as sexually appealing. It had started with small things. The drive down Highway 80 from Oakland to Berkeley, Flanagan’s dildo jammed up her cunt while she sat on her lap to drive.
Both hands engulfing Akina’s breasts, tweaking her nipples between her thumbs and index fingers. Her musky, warm breath invading the fields of hair on Akina’s nape, followed by showers of little kisses, all the while whispering that she’d better not wreck her jag.
Then came the trips to P.E. and finger fucking her bi friend, Kitty, in front of a small crowd. It wasn’t her fault the video was arousing, she’d rationalized. It started out innocent enough and it wasn’t like the crowd was watching them exclusively. The video was playing and the girl on girl action was good. Scenes got better; her hand slipped down the front of Kitty’s blouse and touched her nipple. Kitty moaned. Akina tried it again, and again her friend moaned.
She continued massaging her breasts as Kitty braced herself against the wall for support, slightly moving up and down in anticipation. Her delight fueled Akina’s desire to please her, to make her cum. Kitty pulled up her blouse to give Akina better access to her small, round nipples. She sucked and teased them until Kitty’s hips began to fuck the air. Gyrating with little forward thrusts accompanied by grunts was enough to let Akina know she wanted to be taken. Akina buried her face into Kitty’s cleavage. Kitty had one hand on each side of Akina’s head rotating it to her liking while Akina supplied the moisture and suction. Akina’s arms wrapped around Kitty’s small waist and up her back. Her palms laid flat against her back, moving to match the rhythm of her hips.
She moved her right hand from her back and began to massage her way down Kitty’s torso until she reached her zipper. She slid her hand down her pants without unzipping them. Her fingers met a shaved cunt with a throbbing clit. It was fleshy like a firm piece of albacore. Akina could tell it was large because she felt it before she felt her labia. Her panties were soaked. She rubbed her clit gently using its own juices as lube. Kitty’s thighs began to shake and tighten as she thrusted her hips up trying to maneuver Akina’s fingers into her cunt.
“Beg,” Akina whispered. “Beg me for it. Now!” Kitty melted in her arms. Akina teased her until her cunt lips engulfed her fingers. She used her pinky to gently part her labia.
With her middle finger she circled her clit a few times to get some moisture and then inserted her finger. Kitty bit her lip; her chest caved in as she exhaled that first sensation of penetration, almost doubling her.
Akina’s fingers found fleshy warmth. Kitty’s walls pulsated, squeezed and then released their grip on her fingers. She moved her fingers excitedly in her like a bank robber with a shaky hand on his first job. As Kitty began to cum her walls became tight and unyielding. The pulsating became rapid and then dropped to intermittent jerks. Kitty’s head was thrown back, her throat exposed and her mouth opened wide towards the heavens. Only a low growl escaped on a gasp of hushed ecstasy.
Akina reached around with her left hand and placed it over Kitty’s mouth to muffle her cry. Cunt juice trickled from the tips of her fingers down her hand like drops of sap escaping a tree. If this had been her lover she would have licked the nectar. Suffice it to say they both had to scrounge through their leather bags for tissue to clean their exhibition.
And as far as her friend, well, what happened there, stayed there. It excited them both to test the waters and to have sex in public. That’s what P.E. was for.
But all of those antics were just the prelude for this. Akina had come to understand her desire for domination was insatiable. It took on a life of its own. After a few failed str8 lesbian affairs she stepped into the more “dark” side of female domination. She placed the following ad:
African Beauty Sub… Greetings, I am an attractive, educated, African American femme, sub in need of training. I am very good at pleasing and seek to serve. I require firm training and a gentle touch. I am quite the Sacred Whore and learn very quickly. Trust, safety and honesty are very important qualities to me. In order to unleash the true submissive in me, I require a very strong foundation consisting of the 3 qualities mentioned along with a few others. Please be emotionally and financially stable and available for this venture. Additionally, a positive disposition, a sense of humor and adventure, a grounded spiritual foundation and a willingness to go the distance are my assets. Until we chat, peace.It was Mistress who replied. They had talked for seven months. Attorneys were retained, medical tests exchanged, backgrounds checked, contracts drawn and trust accounts activated. Everything was legally and properly ironed out.
Akina had requested that her identity remain anonymous and that only the attorneys would meet face-to-face. Mistress was leery, but agreed. They had also agreed that they would write to one another to learn more and to talk for two hours, once a month, by phone. It was a strict schedule, if you missed the call no extra time was added. This was Akina’s sense of control. It fed her fantasy, she’d justified. After all it would be hypocritical to control anything based on her philosophy, right?
A tug on her collar’s lead ring brought her back to the present.
She was usually adorned in leather strappings with an elaborately plumed dildo resting snugly in her firm ass. But today would be different. Today was her Mistress’ birthday and she had instructed that Akina be shaved, cleaned and dipped, full body into a vat of chocolate and served as dessert to her party guests. The Mistress’ birthday parties were infamous.
Everything, except for the elaborate orgies and a few intimate details, was reported in the society pages.
The Designer had concocted a smooth blend of java mocha chocolate, Bavarian white chocolate and milk chocolate along with a secret binding ingredient to ensure that the chocolate stayed on Akina’s body and that it wouldn’t melt before the guests ate her.
She secured Akina’s hands in the harness and lowered her into the vat of warm chocolate and then removed her briefly to allow the chocolate to harden. This was repeated several times to achieve the desired thickness. The chocolate was warm and made Akina horny as it crept into her private parts.
As it reached the outer lips of her cunt the tingly feeling she was experiencing changed into a throb as the heat and rising smoothness of the chocolate further aroused her. She thought of her Mistress and the many guests who would be using her as a party favorite and her cunt became wet – even more stimulated. She would have to control that. She wanted her cunt to be like those chocolate Easter eggs with the white creamy centers. She wanted it to be a surprise for the first guest who explored her. She wanted her juices to flow out white and creamy just like those eggs. Hard shell with a soft center.
Once she had been properly dipped she was laid on a bed of white chocolate and walnuts four feet thick and wide enough for two people to lie on. The Designer added a muted semi-sweet, milk chocolate blend to build Akina’s breasts. Her nipples were accented with strawberries. A combination of sweet, milk chocolate; dark, semi-sweet chocolate and butter white chocolate was used to create Akina’s pubic area. She built the labia out of sweet, mocha chocolate and grated almonds; a cherry made the clit and the butter white chocolate represented the cum escaping Akina’s cunt. The Designer then took a cake-decorating tool and using frostings and various food colorings created an enchanted garden scene of exotic orchids, rare flowers, fairies and cherubs on Akina’s body. All fucking, even the flowers.
The party came to an excited lull as everyone watched as Akina was rolled in on her bed of chocolate. Her legs were spread wide revealing little fairies hungrily eating at the chocolate and whip cream adorning her cunt. First, one clap, then another and another until the entire room resonated with adoration for the feast set before them. The Mistress had exceeded even herself with this, exclaimed one guest.
The Mistress was a striking woman standing 5’7”, 155 lbs., firm breasts, long strong legs and a small round ass. She was very feminine in appearance but as strong as any man.
She had the complexion of a porcelain doll. Ruby lips and piercing, sea blue eyes made the fact that she was of Asian decent elude many voyeurs. Her hair was the color of midnight, groomed into a polished pageboy. Sharp, long bangs cut her face in half and she wore little makeup.
Mistress was born into a wealthy family and lived most of her life abroad. Spain was her favorite country. She had attended Ivy League schools and received debutant training from the best ladies of high society. Her IQ was 203 and she was fluent in several languages.
A consummate clarinetist, her current social obligations required that she travel five months of the year. The rest was spent practicing and indulging her isolation. She loved music and her library consisted of tracks by Nina Simone, Chet Baker, Melissa Etheridge and Prince.
This was a common interest she shared with Akina. Charlie Pride and The Buena Vista Social Club were a few of Akina’s favorites she had learned. They had spent one of their two-hour sessions talking about nothing but music. It wasn’t a waste of time.
Her family indulged bi-sexuality as an unspoken taboo – a fad. To them it was like a Rolex, commonplace. It was considered a sign that one was bored and needed a pleasant distraction. The intrigue of a homosexual lover, however pleasing to the elite’s gossiping grapevine, caused her family reason to worry. Thus, her decision to buy the villa in Mallorca, Spain was approved without a fuss. Her stepsister had co-signed immediately to the idea, declaring that it was too stressful for her to explain to her unborn child that auntie was a bull dyke or whatever. Spain was too hot for her so the chance of an impromptu encounter would be minimal.
“Besides, I didn’t know pretty girls were lesbians. You can get a man!” her sister exclaimed as she slammed the dining room door behind her.
Her family knew that she hated pretentiousness so they knew her lesbianism was no fad. Pretty or not she had been queer since before the time her mother had caught her in the pool house intertwined and nude with the French Governess’ niece who had been visiting for the holidays.
Mistress had learned about the “secret society” in college. She dabbled at first, only partaking in humiliating grimy old rich men and stoic professors who promised better grades if only she’d let them eat her untainted, young cunt. “Humph,” she often thought, “old men give you worms!” “I’ll beat you, mistreat you and make you lick my boots,” she was heard whispering to a Texas oilman who had disrespected her at a casino night fundraiser by groping her breasts. Two day later her first million as a Domme was deposited into her bank account. She didn’t look back.
When news of this new “fad” reached her family, her mother feigned a heart attack to dissuade her new course. “Ladies don’t do such things,” her mother’s trembling voice pleaded.
“You a pretty girl. You marry nice man, give me babies.” Her mother’s weak English annoyed her right now. With all their money and social status her English only changed to this to enhance the guilt trip. Mistress responded in their native tongue signaling to her mother that the conversation was closed. Her mother’s hand fell to the side of the bed in anguish. She rang for the doctor as she exited her mother’s room leaving her to her private pity party. That was five years ago.
It was the Texan who had introduced her to Master. It was amazing how the extraneous activities of the rich were so deviant in nature. Another tidbit she shared with Akina.
Master was ten years older than Mistress. He pissed her off initially by assuming that because she was so beautiful, that she was submissive and not his equal. It took him two years to win an audience and another three to give her a contract she would sign.
He learned early on that she had a penchant for women. It didn’t bother him, at first. All his previous Mistresses were too insecure to have another woman around and had opted to indulge his bisexuality. He relished the thought of two women sharing his bed. It wasn’t until she donned her own strap-on during one of their scenes did he realize how truly equal her view was. When she had finished fucking him and the woman he’d chosen for that night, he realized how much better a man she was, then he. Especially when he found he wanted her to fuck him that way again.
When Akina was to be purchased he had to complete the transaction. Mistress had not been in the society long enough and she was too young. Thus, officially, Akina was purchased as a house slave. When she arrived that first day she felt the tension, the lust and the fear. There was something else too, but she couldn’t call it.
Master began to salivate and quickly looked at Mistress to see her reaction. She was stunned by Akina’s beauty. Putting a face to the letters and sultry voice made her heart flutter and a look Master had never seen, but one that worried him came to her face. Master had moved quickly that day. “Look at those legs. They’re made for running and prancing. And that ass is definitely a dancer’s ass,” he smacked it as he took inventory. “Yep, this one is for the races,” he declared definitively. Master decided then and there that Akina was to be a pony and everyone, except Mistress apparently, knew Master’s ponies had only one sexual partner. Strict training and synchronicity required it.
Pony training also required an overseer, thus, Mistress was tasked to watch Master take Akina, ensuring he did nothing to damage the “house property,” but she, herself, could never touch her. This was his way of disciplining HER; there was nothing Mistress could do and initially this was okay. She hadn’t put much stock into the letters and had kept the conversations strictly within Master/Slave guidelines. She had refused to think of Akina as anything more than a slave; after all it never crossed her mind that she would not be able to partake of her.
But now after seeing her and only being allowed to interact with her in general household ways, a yearning to know this slave on a more intimate level consumed her.
They had found ways of interacting – virtual sex could be just as exciting. The thought of being denied intrigued them both, thus, secret acts of defiance were deployed, but no public or obvious disrespect was ever displayed toward their Master.
Those seven months of preparation for Akina’s addition into their household had piqued various curiosities and Mistress often found herself in the library during Akina’s personal time. Akina was an advent writer and had a mesmerizing voice, like a phone sex operator. She could often be found in a pristine retreat reading aloud. Mistress began leaving books or excerpts of material she wanted to hear glide up Akina’s beautiful throat, the words sailing through those luscious, pouty lips to resonate the hidden codes of lust and desire to her ears. On a few occasions she found herself in a secluded foyer masturbating to the readings, jerking the dildo determinedly in and out of her cunt, it was frustrating. She wanted those reciting lips to talk directly to her yearning pussy.
Akina simply sat, not missing a beat in reading or breath as she too let her throbbing cunt release its own orgasm, sticky, warm juice greasing the upper part of her inner thigh.
Knowing glances and slight touches were exchanged in passing. Mistress would often stand in silence as Akina was being washed or whipped; after all she was the overseer. Denial was a more powerful stimulant than either had realized.
But now, after three years of watching in secret anguish to meld with this slave she had grown to love, through elaborate, clandestine meetings, she would finally have her. Tonight Akina’s ownership would be transferred to her while their Master sulked in a corner of the room over a lost wager.
The guests watched in an enthused hush as Mistress’ strong fingers began to stroke Akina’s chocolate covered clit. Akina couldn’t respond to her Mistress’ touch, she had to remain still in order to not break the chocolate. This was another reason she was chosen for this task – her endurance – it too, was infamous.
She had been in a whipping contest and was paddled for 45 minutes non-stop. She didn’t shed a tear nor cry out from the pain. She won her Master a quarter of a million dollars that day. Ten percent went into her trust account. Yeah, Akina had endurance all right, especially when it paid well. But sitting still now was harder than any endurance training she had experienced, especially with her Mistress playing with her clit.
Her Mistress bent over and began to lick the whip cream and fairies from between Akina’s legs. The large dildo hanging from her leather strap-on was a birthday gift from her lover who stood salivating among the guests. She mused thoughtfully at how The Designer had used all of her favorite chocolates and nuts. She would be sure to thank her properly later. She licked and bit until the chocolate melted away.
Once she reached Akina’s fleshy clit she began to make figure eight motions with her tongue. She reached up with her middle finger and began to massage her hood.
The teasing was deadly and Akina was wrecked with lust, but, she remained still, her eyes fixed on her Mistress, taking in every moment of the experience.
A fist found its way into her cunt. In a matter of minutes chocolate pieces pelted the floor as her Mistress’ fist disappear and reappeared from Akina’s inviting cunt. “Moan bitch,” her Mistress whispered. “Moan, I dare you.” Akina felt her firm fingers tickling her cunt walls. She may not have been able to respond on the outside but she could show her Mistress gratitude by responding with a very wet cunt – and so she did.
Her Mistress, striped down to nothing but her strap, climbed on top of the chocolate bed and pushed Akina’s legs further apart to break the chocolate. She positioned the dildo at the entrance of her cunt without the use of her hands, tickling it, making it even wetter. She leaned forward and pushed a little, met with some resistance, and then with one powerful thrust she was in the center of Akina’s chocolate Easter egg. She drew her tongue down Akina’s cleavage until she was at a 90-degree angle with both breasts. She then began to draw that wonderful figure eight again, encircling both nipples, devouring the strawberries that were adorning Akina’s breasts.
The ache, the yearning to pull her Mistress’ head hard to her bosom was extinguished by remembering her status in all of this. Akina relaxed and enjoyed it.
Her Mistress reached under and grabbed her ass and dug her nails in for what seemed like dear life. She was busting the first of many orgasms her head flying forward and then back as she maneuvered in and out forming an almost perfect “U”.
Her primordial chant took Akina back to passionate nights in Paris with her first Mistress. She remembered the libidinous acts in the glow of the fire’s ambers and it made all of this feel so right.
Whispers were let loose throughout the party that the Mistress had taken her, cum royally and that it was now time for the others to have her. Akina withdrew her gaze as her Mistress slapped her appreciatively, popping the cherry into her mouth as she sauntered off toward the music. The guests now began to surround the table fueled with their own ideas about how to truly enjoy sex and chocolate.
One guest lingered in the shadow of the bandstand. Working at the WTC in New York had opened many opportunities to meet some interesting people. She had earned an invitation to this unique gathering by saving a client a small, yet significant amount of money. She was considered a young and up-in-coming guru in the financial service industry and had developed a small, but wealthy following.
“Akina, huh?” “I knew you when you were Summer,” Trinity smiled to herself, pulling another drag from her blunt…
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