Mistress Kitten could feel her own juice on the palm of her hand as she started to get wet again, watching Shadow tease himself before her. His hand glided up and down faster now, his free hand gripping the pillows beneath him for support, panting slightly as he continued to masturbate. His eyes never left hers, such was his devotion to his Queen.
As she watched him, rubbing his bulging cock, Kitten found herself feeling emotions that left her scared and unsure. She found herself wanting him like she had wanted no others. She felt that she needed to have him inside her, filling her small hole with his throbbing cock, doing to her what no man had done before:
She wanted the end of their beloved Queen's purity, in return for a single act of lovemaking. Her time as Queen concluding with such finality equal to the de-flowering that would bring these events to being.
With quickening breath her hand drifted up and over her folds, a single finger slipping into her pussy as the thought rose up inside her. Could she make this last decision? It would be irreversible, gone in the instant Shadow's gorgeous penis slid effortlessly into her virgin folds, completing both her life but also her reign. She would lose her servants, her throne, her palace, her land...everything she had ever owned. All of it would be gone, for the price of one night of passionate sex like nothing she had never experienced before.
Biting her lip with frustration, Mistress Kitten looked down at her servant, her slave, doing everything she asked of him, including playing with his own penis, all at a single word from her. His loyalty ran deep indeed, and was as strong as the power that ensured it. He looked directly into her eyes as he stroked himself closer to the edge, the sight and her own hand movements bringing her closer as well. He was devoted to her.
Staring deep into his eyes, Mistress Kitten had an epiphany...
"Enough, Slave." She commanded, her own fingers shaking inside her from the intensity. He obediently stopped, looking fearful, as if worried he had let his Mistress down. She stared darkly at his large wings, his cascading brown hair and his powerful arms, his hand still wrapped around his aching cock. She beckoned to him to come forward, sitting on the edge of the throne as he stepped up to her, looking into her eyes. She looked back and, for the first time, reached down to stroke his manhood with her free hand, fingering herself again as she sighed happily, her mind raging with fear and pleasure.
"You, Slave, you will do as I command, yes?" she asked, looking at him. He nodded.
"You, Slave, will obey the word of your Queen and Mistress, yes?" Again, he nodded.
"And you, my most humble Slave will not, for any reason, question the desires of your Keeper, once and forever? Your word, my Slave."
Without hesitation, he nodded. She had her answer.
Mistress Kitten lay back on her pillows, on her golden throne in her enormous palace, and slowly led him toward her, her hand on his cock guiding it to rub against her folds. She felt a rush of excitement as she felt the head of his cock sliding into her waiting lips, barely tickling her yet drawing her closer to orgasm than anything else. She could see the expression on his face clearly: fear, and a long withheld desire.
"Take me...my Shadow," she purred, as she rested her hands on his arms, her legs out wide, bent at the knees, and felt him slide his throbbing member into her, filling her as she gasped and closed her eyes tightly, almost losing herself to him. He let out a low moan as his hips started to pump into her, in and out, going deep then pulling back, the head of his penis never leaving her. She scratched down his arms as he brought her closer and closer to the end, biting her lip hard, the motion of his love rocking the throne.
She felt him getting ready to cum. She could see the lust boiling over, the look on his face one of absolute joy. With one last deep thrust she threw her head back and screamed with pleasure, her nails leaving deep marks down his arms, her thighs shaking uncontrollably, and all of a sudden she was cumming again, wetting herself and him with her juice. She cried and cried as he pumped her again, making her cum a second time, and before she knew it, she reached up and took his head in her hand. Gripping one shoulder, she pulled him down on top of her, his chest above hers as she cried his name and finally kissed his lips, feeling him moan into the kiss. She tore at his chest with her nails, and as she wrapped her legs around his waist Shadow came inside her, filling her with semen, his eyes shutting as he rode out the wave of relief he felt inside.
They lay there for an hour, panting hard, kissing and holding each other, his cock always inside her. The guards finally returned to find them there, this warrior befouling their Queen's virginity, and dragged him away as he planted one last kiss on her lips.
The next day the Queen was stripped of her royal status, but was spared her life. She wore simple traveler's robes, a plain brown tunic with a long cloak around her shoulders. She walked among the peasants and market dwellers for a time, unrecognized, her hood up covering her face from the view of her disgusted people. On the morning of the third day she walked to the battlement gates, passing through them as she knew she had to, and walked solemnly towards the dark robed figure standing a short distance away.
His wings were clipped. His hair was cut short. The weapons bearing the castle's royal seal were removed. His gauntlet blade remained in place, as did one or two knives on the back of his waist. Hung across his chest was a tan leather belt, not bearing a quiver of fine arrows, but holding a short sword in a simple black leather scabbard by his waist.
Stripped of his rank and honour. Lucky to even be alive.
The former Queen approached him, laying a hand on his shoulder to turn him around. His eyes were red from crying. It was very painful, physically and emotionally, to lose your wings. His face bore no new scars, but his injuries ran deep. Once again, Kitten bit her lip and questioned whether he would simply walk away.
Shadow bent down and kissed her lips, softly and tenderly, his arms holding her close as he pulled her to his chest. Fresh tears sprung from his eyes as he pulled back to reach into a pocket, taking out a long length of ribbon, like her royal white ribbon of Purity, except it was a different colour.
"Red," he whispered, as he draped it around her neck, tying it into a little bow. "For Passion."
He walked with her, hand in hand, down the road that led out of the city. To what end she did not know, but she did know she had made the right choice.
"By the way," he asked as they walked. "What do I call you?"
The former Queen blushed. "My given name is Alyssandra," she said, smiling at him, "but you can call me Alice."
She may not be a Queen, but she still had a devoted Slave...now also a devoted lover.
The End.
The Professor
This is autobiographical about how I came to appreciate and love black women. I grew up in south Texas with all the bias and prejudice that could be taught to a kid. I attended a large public university during the 1960s in the days before student loans. I was a commuter student because I couldn't afford to live in the dorms or apartments. My parents told me I could live at home if I went to college but they couldn't pay for my education so I held down several part-time jobs and took course loads of 19-21 semester hours just to graduate from college before the military draft grabbed me without any choices. One of the jobs I had held since I was nine was mowing lawns. I kept my lawn mowing gear in the trunk of my car along with a change of clothes and an empty gas can. I needed to be ready to make a few dollars when the opportunity presented itself.
As usual between classes at the university I was in the student union building basement checking the employment opportunities for any short-term employment that gave me the flexible schedule I needed to study. I ran my fingers down the 3"X5" index cards pinned to the bulletin board and pulled the one looking for someone to mow a lawn for a sociology professor. The card listed the office hours, office locale and telephone number to contact. I looked at my watch I had an hour to catch P.C. Wright, PhD., in the office to follow up on this lawn mowing job. I always
wore tan chino slacks, Weejuns and a blue oxford cloth button-down collar shirt -- I guess I looked like a typical white frat boy -- I wasn't I couldn't afford the dues, the booze and the sorority girls. I worked, studied and went to class -- I slept when I could -- at nineteen I was ten feet tall and bullet-proof. I no longer had time to lift weights or run like I did in high school -- my part-time jobs kept me in good condition. I got to the Liberal Arts building and sprinted up the stairs to office 214D, the name plate on the door listed, 'Phylissia C. Wright, Ph.D.' "Okay," I shrugged, "I didn't expect a woman but that's okay money is money." I knocked on the door and in a moment it opened, "Yes may I help you?"
"Yes ma'am, I'm Steven Edwards responding to this ad for someone to mow a lawn," I explained.
"First of all Mister (with emphasis) Edwards I am not ma'am I am Doctor (with emphasis) Wright and you will address me as such," her tone was inciting and caustic.
I held up my hand, "I beg your pardon - my parents raised me to respect anyone that I don't know personally with sir or ma'am especially individuals who have earned titles such as doctor or reverend or attorney and I don't know you but I will tell you this I won't work for someone I don't respect and you just made my list. I came looking to mow a lawn not to be chastised for being respectful and courteous. I don't need this kind of headache to cut one lawn -- here's your card ma'am you'll probably want to repost it. Good afternoon ma'am." I turned and walked away.
In a fast second I head the clicking of heels on the concrete hallway as they echoed louder coming toward me. "Great I need this like I need a third eye," I thought. Then I hear, "Mr. Edwards...Mr. Edwards...please wait a minute."
I stopped and turned around and watched Dr. Wright managing to 'run' to where I had stopped. Her skirt was tight and the heels weren't made for running and she really wasn't accustomed to chasing down anyone with her attitude. As she got closer I could see that she was clearly upset -- I guessed correctly my words stung her into reality of her behavior and bias toward me. She was a bit breathless, "Mr. Edwards please forgive me...I...uh...I jumped to a conclusion...I never expected to see a white boy...uh man answering my job card." This was an awkward moment. She was vulnerable because her academic position dictated that she be open to any circumstance in social norms, mores and customs and our exchange shattered that perception of openness.
"You're forgiven ma'am. Is that all? If so I need to get to the library ma'am."
She shocked me as she extended her hand, "I am sorry for my rudeness and I do need someone to mow my lawn. I just bought this little house and the grass is almost knee deep - would you be willing to come look at it and see if it is a job that you could do?"
Her apology and softened attitude caused me to rethink her situation and it also caused me to look at her in a kinder light. No doubt she was intelligent. She was the first black woman I ever shook hands with. She was tall -- 5'8", from what I could tell very well proportioned, her hair was piled up on her head, her skin was flawless, her nails long and manicured no polish, her lipstick if there was any blended with her skin tone. It's funny what we notice when we're not being attacked. "Yes ma'am I'd be happy to come take a look at your lawn," I smiled politely to her, "when would be a good time?"
"Well this afternoon or Saturday morning -- is either time okay?"
I nodded, "Yes ma'am, what time this afternoon?"
She looked at her watch, "I have office hours for another thirty minutes if you're free after that Mr. Edwards you could follow me to my house."
I agreed, "Okay. Where are you parked and what color and make of car do you drive?" We worked out the details and within a half hour I was driving to the faculty lot to follow Dr. Wright to her home. She was driving a fire engine red Triumph TR-6 convertible with the top down, Ray-Ban horn-rimmed sunglasses and driving gloves. 'Nice. At least she has good taste in cars and how to drive them.' We traveled to the acceptable section of the fashionable Heights section where professional blacks lived in middle class comfort. I surveyed her lawn as I pulled in -- it was a disaster -- really overgrown.
"Are you scared by this jungle Mr. Edwards?" she smiled and it did her face a good turn -- she went from being shrewish to gorgeous with one smile.
"No doc. I've handled worse I can assure you. Let me walk around and look this job over and I'll give you a fair price." I took a careful assessment of the work to get the 'yard' under control and respectable enough to call it a 'lawn.'
Dr. Wright had gone inside to change while I walked around and then she came out onto the porch that wrapped completely around this Victorian-era bungalow. She was sitting on the porch swing as I finished. "What do you think about getting control of this mess," she asked.
I told her it would take two or three cuts otherwise a onetime cut would kill off the St. Augustine grass if too much was lopped off.
"So how much for the first cut Mr. Edwards," she asked.
"Ten dollars each cut which includes trimming, raking, bagging and sweeping," I stated.
She nodded and seemed to calculate what that meant, "How often between cuts?"
"Once a week ma'am," I told her.
"Okay. When can you start," she was in a hurry to get the yard cleaned up.
"I can start now I just need to get a can of gas and a place to change into my work clothes," I told her.
"Sounds great just let me know when you're finished," with that she went inside with the screen door banging closed behind her.
I went back down the street to the corner Esso station and got a gallon of gas and changed into my work clothes in the men's room. In a few minutes I was unpacking the lawnmower from the trunk and proceeded to fill the gas tank. It would take a gallon of gas to get this mess mowed. I walked around and picked up junk so as not to ruin the blade. After about three hours work the lawn was mowed, raked and trimmed. I parked the lawnmower in the shade in front of my car to cool down -- I had run it out of gas so I could close the trunk without worry about it blowing up on me. The front porch was now in the shade and I was sitting on the bottom step wiping my sweaty face on a towel when Dr. Wright came onto the porch. I stood and turned to face her. She was barefoot, wearing a sleeveless cotton dress with her long wavy black hair pulled back into a ponytail. She looked like a teenager -- in fact she was beautiful. "Dr. Wright the first cut is finished," I told her as she surveyed the yard's first trim in a while.
She walked around the porch looking over the yard, I followed her. She turned and faced me, "It's beautiful."
"Thank you doc," as I wiped my face. It was hot and I was sweating a lot.
"I'll be right back Mr. Edwards," she went inside and in a few minutes she came out with a pitcher of iced tea and two glasses. She handed me fifteen dollars, "I owe you much more than this but you said ten and it's too cheap for your work. How about some iced tea?"
"That sounds great," I smiled as I sat down on the first porch step. She patted the empty spot on the porch swing next to her, "Come sit here it's cooler."
"Ma'am I'm sweaty and dirty and well, you're freshly scrubbed -- I don't want to get you or the swing dirty and sweaty," I protested. S he wasn't taking no for an answer, "Please Steven?" When she called me Steven it was sweetly innocent and endearing. She had coaxed me over.
I put my towel on the swing and sat down as she kicked the swing to a slow start, "Thank you for the fifteen dollars doc, there are some books I need to buy and this will sure take care of that," I confessed.
We talked for a long while drinking tea and cooling off when finally she asked me an interesting question, "Have you ever kissed a black woman?"
I felt my face flush, "No ma'am. The truth is I haven't kissed many girls...so I guess I'm inexperienced in that department."
She smiled, "Steven you're a handsome man I find that hard to believe."
I shook my head, "It's true doc. I haven't had much time to date and such. I have to pay for my college so...socially I'm a bit out of the swing of things."
"It's Phylissia -
- we can drop the 'ma'am' and 'doc'. Okay Steven?"
I nodded, "yes ma'am...uh...Phylissia."
I stared at her and she smiled sweetly, "What is it?" "Well...it's just...uh...you're a beautiful woman," I nodded and looked at my hands.
"I'm black," she announced.
"I noticed that about you," I smiled.
She grinned and grabbed my forearm, "Thank you that was generous."
"I wasn't being generous I was trying to tell you I don't care what color your skin is -- you're beautiful. Probably the prettiest woman I've ever been around and certainly one of the most intelligent," I complimented her.
"Steven about this morning when I was so ugly to you I watched my parents get treated badly and disrespectfully by white folks and they took it by smiling and saying 'yes sir' and 'yes ma'am'. It has always made me angry how they were treated," she confessed.
"I can see why it would. I hope you know that I respect you as a professor and a woman," I smiled to her.
She leaned toward me and kissed me. At first it was a sweet kiss on the lips and she didn't draw back she kept her lips near mine so I kissed her this time like I would a girlfriend and it was amazing. There was something boiling inside of us that we didn't see coming. A part of it was 'jungle fever' -- part of it was our work ethic of driving hard to succeed and missing out on real relationships and the other part was lust. As I pulled back and looked at her, "I'm not sorry for kissing you like that. You are a very sensual woman you caught me completely by surprise -- I've never been kissed like that," I admitted.
She was breathing hard, "Come inside Steven. I need more than a kiss."
My face flushed hot and red, "Okay...uh...Phylissia?" She turned and extend her hand to me, "Come with me baby."
Whatever she wanted she was going to have that was certain -- I was enthralled with this woman. Once inside the door she wrapped her arms around me and kissed me, her tongue wrestling with mine, her breathing was short and fast, I could feel her nipples pressing against my sweat-soaked t-shirt that stuck to my skin. I suddenly realized that my hands were on her ass cheeks -- she was not wearing underwear. Our bodies were plastered against one another. We broke for a breath of air, "Phylissia I need to tell you something."
Family Forbidden Taboo Erotica for Women Box Set Page 44