——-Verlierer
Waking up I found her leaning over me like a patient at a doctors, her breast swaying close to my face. The silky smooth texture of her skin pulled my eyes in as I could clearly see the bright pink nipples soft on her breast. A clean shirt of mine was tied close to her chest pushing her voluptuous chest close her body, in an alluring way. At first I tried to get up but instead a soft hand with visible damage to it held me down, with a careful worried look in her eyes.
Her movements had a grace and elegance to them, while her posture leaned down pressing her breast down against the bed. A clear view of her partially exposed chest was directly in my face making me blush, so I instinctively looked away from it. It was too much so early in the morning, and I could feel myself still trying to wake up.
'Why do I feel worried, like I should ask her if I can look at her chest?'
"Don't move, I am working on your wounds."
Startled by the whole thing I just froze stiff as she softly bandaged every cut on my body, slowly I was being covered in little bandages that covered my body. Her fingers slid across my skin, leaving a tingling sensation that was erotic. While her breast hung directly in my view, I kept sneaking quick glances at them feeling their weight at times as she pressed them against me.
"I give you permission to look, just no touching right now~"
"Huh, oh thanks.."
'Why do I feel better, like her saying I can look mattered to me?'
Glancing at her closely, a bed sheet was used to wrap around her waist as she used one of my best to tie it close to her. My eyes stared at the fabric hiding what I wanted to see below, as she shifted it slightly covering it up a little more.
"No peeking down below, that's not for you."
"Huh, sorry."
Somehow during the time I was asleep she stripped me of all my clothes, as she slowly revealed to me pulling the blankets away. Her fingers gently slid to my crotch, as they slightly cupped my balls before continuing down to her work. I wanted her to go back, to do more but she was more dedicated to her work.
It was a bit embarrassing being naked facing her, but she didn't seem to mind it. The way her eyes looked as she saw my body made me feel like she knew every inch, like it was just routine to her.I wanted to cover up, but when I did she would grab the covers with her hand.
"Not yet, I am not done working."
"I, I just want to cover up a little. It is cold in here."
"Just one minute."
Sliding a single finger around my rod, I felt it leave again as her face showed no emotional change. I felt a little small being taken care of, and I wanted to do it myself but a part of me wanted to experience genuine love like this for the first time. Over the years working on this garbage site, I gained countless small and somewhat large wounds using nothing but the bare minimum equipment. Mixed with her sweet loving tone, as she pointed out things on my body I felt obligated to let her continue.
"How did you get this one?"
"I got it when a nail went through my shoe, it hurt like hell that day."
"I am glad you are alright, here let me help."
Feeling guilty as I watched her work on my wounds, I kept looking at the damaged body she had and felt useless. It was like a person who needed serious help saving the person with a minor bruise, it made my heart hurt a little seeing her like that. Each act of grace was mixed with some bit of hidden pain I could see on her face, and I knew it was her system showing she was damaged.
'I'm sorry, I should have put more effort into working on you than video games..'
I was the one who rebuilt her and this was the best I could do? But her conversations never let me dwell too long on it, she always kept asking about stuff or simply chatting. Her sweet loving state felt so surreal I didn't even associate her with the same person I was going to have my with last night.
'I can't do it, I can't force myself on her today.'
Each little tease she did poking or playing with me didn't make me want to push her down, instead I felt the urge to fix her. To do the work that needed to be done, and then I would do it. She would love me for it, I had to do it.
Leaning forward her breast fell on my face, interrupting my thoughts. Kissing my forehead gently, she moved her lips to my ears as I felt her breast slide down my face with her movement. Each word she spoke blew a little hot air in my ear, I felt my body stiffen down below fully.
"All done, now let's get you something to eat."
"I don't have much."
"Shush, just rest. I will do this for you."
I felt like helping but she held me down gently again, pulling away she gave me a light peck on the cheek. This time I felt fully reassured instead of partially shocked when she did it first, her care was genuine I could feel it. It seemed like to her the whole world revolved around me, and only me.
'I am good enough for her, stop think otherwise. Stop worrying about other things.'
Pulling her body away, she stood up standing way above me. Her body stretched, as her breast swayed to her movement. The thick curves mixed with her thin frame, and ample wide hips made her stimulating to watch. The little cloth covering her privates down below began to rise as she stretch her body, but she gave me a wink pulling back down.
"Don't be naughty, I didn't say you can look at me that way yet."
"I have to ask?"
Giving me a what else do you expect kind of stare, I remembered she was just a machine. Someone must have programmed something like this into her for gaining permission to see her in such a way, so I decided to continue the charade for now.
"Can I see?"
"Nope~"
Swaying her hips as she walked, my eyes were glued to her butt as she empathized it's round size as moved. Turning her eyes to me, she give me a playful smile and I awkwardly smiled back naked on the bed. Bending her body to lean slightly over on the wooden table, she turned her head looking towards me while holding a piece of paper.
"Just rest today, I went through your schedule and you don't have work for the next few days."
"But, but what about-"
"No buts, for now I want you to listen to me."
'Listen to her?'
Walking back over to me, she had a air of confidence that made me look down on the floor. Her hips swayed with each step, her gaze firm. A stark contrast to what I wanted her to be programmed like, but I didn't mind it too much. Placing her arms below her breast, she pushed them slightly forward as my eyes kept glancing up.
"Um, can we have sex?"
"...."
"Hello? I asked, can we have sex? I think that is the correct word to activate that scene correct?"
'Is it not registering with her, why isn't saying doing anything or responding?'
Her face remained unchanged, her chest continued to rise and fall as her breast remained fixed to my view. My eyes couldn't help but wander looking to her nipples bright and pink slightly exposed, and the ruffled up material barely hiding her privates down below.
"Are you going to listen to me and rest?"
"I want se-"
She placed a finger on my lips and I turned silent, like some instinct when speaking to a parent a child had I didn't fight it. I couldn't help but look to her breast that swung looser from her quick action, and I gulped feeling the warm finger up against my lips. I never was treated this way before but it didn't feel bad.
Her habit of silencing me was something I just had to get used to, I had no way to fix it either way. My only computers were destroyed to refit her and the idea of ordering her stop seemed like a really bad idea. Slowly she pulled her finger back, leaving me stunned.
"Just take it easy today, stop thinking of things you cannot do."
'She's right, I can take the day off work today.'
Satisfied that I wasn't planning on moving, she gently pulled the cover of the blanket over my more sensitive areas. I was still aroused hoping something more was going to happen, instead she ignored it. She got up and began searching my place, seeing her lean down I gulped watching the fabric covering her move.
Even now as she walks with a slight stumble from a bad leg, I could tell she was trying her best to be seductive in doing it. Raising her leg to get a clear view of her thigh, or leaning over exaggerate so I could catch a glimpse of her privates. All of it was really nice, putting a smirk of pride on my face.
'I did this, I rebuilt this hotty. She is doing all of this for me!'
Watching her chest sway as she walked I wanted to rush over and squeeze them, just the fact I was bandaged up with her wanting me to stay on the bed kept me here. Confident I was laid on the bed watching her like it was a show, and she gave me a wink at times making me blush looking away.
'It's like she is a real girl and knows she is teasing me, there's no way right?'
I watched as she moved gracefully across the room, her every step calculated, her figure mesmerizing even with the damage she carried. There was something hypnotic about the way she moved, something that drew me in deeper with every glance. I couldn't help but feel a surge of anticipation of what she had planned for me.
The breast on her body seemed heavy and I felt the urge to grab, touch, feel their texture. Her hips wide and voluptuous made me feel a little intimidated mixed with arousal, she had a beautiful way of moving that showed her body off making her sway with each step. Eventually finding a lone box of cereal with several cans of food near it, she had a happy face like an excited child finding the perfect gift.
"The cans are for dinner, I usually save them for good news."
"Is that so?"
She sauntered over, the tiny cereal box in hand, pouring a bowl with a slow, deliberate grace, her every movement a tease. Bending just enough to offer a tantalizing glimpse of what I felt like I could never have.
Her smile was sugar-sweet, almost too perfect, as she slipped behind me. Lifting my upper body with ease, pressing herself close but just out of reach. Her presence was a constant, seductive reminder that she was perfection itself. From her enormous strength, to her ability to move her body in ways I never expected.
'She lifted me so easily my body was a twig to her!'
A blend of fear and admiration stirred inside me as I watched her, her towering height making her presence impossible to ignore, yet today she was so kind, it almost erased the tension from last night, her every move drawing me in deeper.
Sure, she could be bossy, and I knew better than to push back, but the way she cared for me, the way she made me feel seen, was something I craved—her attention was intoxicating, making me feel a connection like never before.As I lay there, the thought wouldn't leave my mind.
'I think this is love. To me, she is a person. Not just a machine without a soul, I can feel that she's alive. But am I good enough for her?'
A warm sensation spread through my chest, wrapping me in a strange sense of comfort. It was as if my body was under the influence of some intoxicating drug, leaving me both relaxed and inexplicably happy. But as I looked at her, at the damage she carried, a frown tugged at my lips. I felt sorry for her, for whatever pain she had endured. I want to repay her, but could I do it?
She caught my gaze, her eyes soft yet full of something I couldn't quite place. She moved closer, her hand finding its way to my chest, her touch light and warm, sending a tingle through my body.
"You've been so kind to me," she murmured, her voice almost like a purr. "It means a lot, you know?"
Her words made my heart skip a beat, but there was something in the way she said it—a hint of something deeper that I couldn't quite grasp. She leaned in, her lips curling into a smile that was sweet, yet held a quiet strength.
"I don't show it enough, but I need you in my life," she continued, her voice soft and intimate. "You make things easier… more bearable."
There was a warmth in her words, but also a slight distance, as if she was keeping something just out of reach. I couldn't help but feel a mix of pride and uncertainty. Did she feel the same way I did?
She seemed to sense my hesitation, and her smile softened. She leaned in a little closer, her breath warm against my neck, her presence both comforting and commanding.
"You've got a way of making me feel… cared for," she whispered, her hand still resting on my chest, a gentle reminder of her touch. "And I appreciate that. It's something I need."
Her words made my heart flutter, but there was a subtle undertone that left me wondering—was there something more she wasn't saying? I wanted to be everything for her, but the way she spoke, it was as if she was gently reminding me of my place in her world.
She brushed a strand of hair away from my face, her fingers lingering just a moment longer than necessary. "Just keep being yourself," she said softly, her eyes meeting mine with an intensity that made my breath catch.
"That's more than enough for me, don't try to be something you won't ever be."
There was a brief moment of silence, filled only by the warmth of her body close to mine. It was comforting, yet there was an unspoken understanding in the air, a line she had drawn with the gentlest of hands.
I nodded slowly, the love in my chest still there, though tinged with a new sense of awareness. "I'll always be here for you," I whispered, even as part of me wondered if that would ever be enough. My soul longed for company, she made me realize it and I felt a weird stupid sensation of love in my gut.
'I want to repay her, could I do it?'
As I lay there, trying to process everything she had said, my mind was a swirl of emotions. She placed the tray on the nightstand, her movements fluid, almost sensual, as she set everything in place. Then, with that same sugar-sweet smile, she sat beside me on the bed, lifting the bowl of cereal with a delicate touch.
"Open your mouth," she whispered, her voice low and commanding, yet somehow tender.
I hesitated for a moment, feeling a strange mix of arousal and submission, but then I complied, parting my lips as she brought a spoonful of cereal to my mouth. The taste was almost irrelevant—what mattered was the way she fed me, each movement slow, deliberate, as if she were savoring the control she had over me.
Her eyes never left mine, and with each bite, I felt a deeper connection, as if she was feeding more than just my body. She was feeding my soul, filling the empty spaces within me that I hadn't even realized were there.
"Good boy,"
She murmured warmly after I swallowed, her tone dripping with approval that sent a shiver down my spine. There was something intensely satisfying about the way she said it, as if she were rewarding me for my obedience.
She continued to feed me, her touch gentle yet firm, her presence both comforting and overwhelmingly powerful. The way she held the spoon, the way she brought it to my lips with such precision—it was almost too much. I could feel my pulse quickening, my breath catching in my throat. Her proximity, her scent, the way she controlled the pace of everything—it was intoxicating.
After the bowl was empty, she set it aside, her fingers brushing lightly against my cheek as she took the glass of juice in her hand. She held it to my lips, tilting it just enough for me to take a sip. The cool liquid slid down my throat, refreshing yet almost surreal in the context of the moment.
"There," she whispered, setting the glass down. "You needed that."
Her words were simple, but the way she said them made my heart race. It was as if she knew exactly what I needed, not just physically, but emotionally and mentally. I felt a wave of warmth wash over me, a deep sense of comfort mixed with an undeniable attraction.
She leaned in closer, her breath warm against my ear as she whispered, "You're so easy to take care of… so easy to please."
Her hand trailed down my chest, fingers grazing the skin just above the waistband of my pants. I felt my body tense, anticipation building with every passing second. But just as I thought she might give me more, she pulled back, her smile soft yet knowing.
"I'll always take care of you," she said, her tone gentle but with an underlying firmness. "But remember, you don't have to try so hard. Just let me take the lead."
She left those words hanging in the air, a tantalizing promise that left me aching for more, even as I understood the boundary she had drawn. She was in control and I was to follow her lead, to be content with the role she allowed me to play. Acting out what I desired would only end this, and she wouldn't be able to play along.
As she moved to clean up the tray, I couldn't shake the feeling that something deeper was at play, something just out of reach. Her every action, every word, was designed to draw me in, to make me crave her even more, while subtly reminding me of my place in her world. I felt both aroused and strangely at peace, as if this was exactly where I was meant to be, even if I didn't fully understand why.
"Sorry, gotta go use the restroom."
Awkwardly waving her away, I made my way to the bathroom, my mind a swirl of emotions. The warmth of her touch still lingered on my chest, her movements, her voice—all of it impossible to ignore. My heart raced, my body tense with a need that I couldn't fully control.
As I closed the bathroom door behind me, I caught a glimpse of myself in the mirror. My face was flushed, my breath uneven. The reality of my arousal hit me hard. She knew exactly what she was doing, the way she moved so gracefully, so seductively, always keeping just out of reach. And now, alone in the bathroom, that need surged within me, desperate for release.
I leaned against the sink, trying to steady my breath. My thoughts were consumed by her—the way her body had brushed against mine, the softness of her voice, the way she looked at me with those eyes that seemed to see right through me. It was all too much. I needed to relieve this tension, and I knew exactly how.
I began to pull down shorts, my mind racing with images of her. The way she had bent over just a little too far when she fed me, the slight curve of her lips as she whispered in my ear, the way her hand had lingered on my chest, just long enough to leave me aching for more. I could almost feel her touch again, almost hear her voice urging me on.
But as I was about to give in to my desires, a gentle knock came from the bathroom door, followed by her soft, teasing voice. "Are you alright in there?"
My heart skipped a beat. Did she know? Could she sense what I was about to do? There was no way she could have seen, but her timing was too perfect, too precise.
"I'm fine," I stammered, quickly pulling my pants back up, embarrassed by how close I had been.
There was a brief pause, and then I heard her laugh softly, a sound that sent a shiver down my spine. "You don't have to be shy," she said, her voice still gentle but with a hint of something else, something that made my pulse quicken. "It's natural to need a little… relief."
I froze, unsure of how to respond. Did she just…? No, I couldn't let my mind go there, not while she was still so close. But before I could think of anything to say, she continued, her tone shifting to something almost playful.
"Why don't you take your time inside there?" she suggested, her voice dropping to a near whisper. "It might help you feel better. Sometimes it's good to let go of all that… tension."
My face burned with a mix of arousal and embarrassment. She knew. She had to know. And yet, there was something about the way she said it that made it impossible to resist. She wasn't offering herself, no, that was clear. She was giving me permission, almost urging me to take care of my needs in her absence.
"I'll wait for you," she added, her voice light and sweet. "Just… take your time."
Her words hung in the air, and I could feel my body responding to the suggestion, my arousal spiking at the thought of her knowing what I was about to do. I couldn't help but imagine her on the other side of the door, that perfect smile on her lips, aware of exactly what was happening in here.
My hand hesitated at the waistband of my pants again. The thought of her knowing, of her possibly listening, made the idea of relieving myself all the more intense. I felt a rush of heat flood my body, the need becoming almost unbearable. She had done this to me, set this all up so perfectly. She knew exactly how to push my buttons, how to leave me wanting more, and how to guide me to this very moment.
Slowly, I reached down, my hand shaking slightly as I began to stroke myself, the sensation almost overwhelming in my heightened state. My mind filled with her, every detail of her body, every word she had whispered. I could almost feel her touch again, almost hearing her voice urging me on, telling me to give in, to let go.
As I lost myself in the fantasy, something caught my eye. I turned to look at the poster on the wall, my favorite one, the anime girl I had always admired. But something was different. The girl was still the same, but the image had changed. It was subtle, but enough to make me pause, to pull me out of the moment.
My hand stopped, and I stared at the poster, confusion clouding my thoughts. Why did it look different? What has changed? My mind raced, trying to make sense of it, but the more I looked, the more I felt that something was off. The arousal that had consumed me just moments ago began to fade, replaced by a growing sense of unease.
But then, as I squinted at the image, something about it seemed off, like a subtle change that my mind hadn't fully registered yet. My eyes traced the lines of the anime girl's delicate figure, her wide, innocent eyes, and the soft curves of her body, but there was something different now. I leaned closer, my breath shallow, as the realization hit me like a jolt of electricity.
She was no longer alone.
My eyes widened, locking onto the new figure that had appeared beside her—a tall, muscular black man, his powerful frame dwarfing hers. His skin was a deep, rich contrast against her pale softness, their differences in color only highlighting the raw intensity of their proximity. They were entwined, their bodies pressed together in a way that was both intimate and undeniable, his hands gripping her hips possessively as if claiming her as his own. Her head rested against his chest, eyes half-lidded in a look of pure submission, while his gaze was locked onto her with an intensity that sent shivers down my spine.
The once-innocent anime girl was now entwined with a towering black man, his muscular frame dwarfing her delicate body. His hand gripped her hip possessively, the dark skin of his fingers standing out starkly against the pale softness of her flesh. Her eyes, wide and filled with a mixture of submission and pleasure, were locked onto his, as though she had found something she never knew she needed. The contrast between their bodies, the sheer dominance he exuded, sent a shiver down my spine.
My heart raced, pounding in my chest so loudly that I could barely hear my own thoughts. I could feel the blood rushing to my face, a mix of shock and something else—something darker—swirling inside me. I tried to look away, to pull my eyes from the image, but I couldn't. I was drawn to it, captivated by the sheer contrast of their bodies, the way his dark skin seemed to engulf her, making her look even smaller, even more vulnerable.
A heat spread through me, creeping down my neck and settling low in my belly. The way they were pressed together, their bodies fitting so perfectly, so naturally—it was like they were made for each other, every line of her form molded to match his. I imagined the strength in his hands, the power in his embrace, and how it must feel for her, to be held so tightly, so completely.
My breath hitched as I noticed the subtle details—the way her fingers clutched at his back, her small hands gripping his muscles as if to steady herself, to hold on as he took control. His expression was one of dominance, of a man who knew exactly what he wanted and how to get it. And she… she looked so utterly lost in him, as if nothing else in the world mattered anymore, as if she had surrendered completely to the overwhelming presence that was now her world.
I swallowed hard, my throat dry, my mouth slightly open as I stared at them. The heat inside me grew, spreading through my limbs, making my skin prickle with a mix of excitement and fear. I could almost feel it—the weight of him against her, the roughness of his hands as they slid over her body, the warmth of their skin as they melded together.
A shiver ran down my spine, and I couldn't stop myself from imagining more, from picturing what would happen next. The way his hands would move, exploring every inch of her, claiming her as his own, the sounds she would make as he touched her, the way she would respond, her body arching into him, giving herself over to the pleasure that only he could provide.
My breath quickened, and I felt a tightness in my chest, a pressure that was both unbearable and irresistible. I knew I shouldn't be feeling this way, shouldn't be reacting to something so… so intense, but I couldn't help it. The image burned into my mind, the fantasy of it all, and I was left trembling, caught between the desire to look away and the undeniable urge to keep watching, to see where it would lead, to let myself be pulled deeper into the dark, tantalizing fantasy that had so suddenly and unexpectedly captured me.
Before I could fully comprehend it, her voice came again, soft and sweet from the other side of the door. "Everything okay, in there?"
I shook my head, trying to clear the confusion. "Yeah," I replied, though my voice was unsteady. "Just… almost done."
"Good," she murmured, her tone filled with a warmth that made me shiver. "Take your time. And if you need some… inspiration, I'm sure you'll find it."
Her words sent a jolt through me, and I turned back to the poster, my heart pounding in my chest. The image was undeniable now, the two figures locked in a passionate embrace, their bodies moving together in a way that made my head spin. The black man's muscular frame loomed over the delicate anime girl, his hands exploring every inch of her body with a confidence that was both intimidating and electrifying. Her pale skin seemed to glow against his dark, powerful form, their contrast creating a visual that was as striking as it was provocative.
A part of me recoiled at the sight, at what it represented. This was everything I had been taught to despise, everything I had been conditioned to believe was wrong. But another part of me—darker, deeper—couldn't look away. There was something about the way they moved together, the way he possessed her so completely, that stirred something primal inside me. My body responded in a way that my mind couldn't control, an undeniable arousal that I couldn't suppress, no matter how much I tried.
Slowly, almost hesitantly, I reached down again, my hand trembling as I began to stroke myself, the image of the poster burning in my mind. The thought of her knowing, of her possibly orchestrating this, made the experience even more intense. I couldn't help but imagine her on the other side of the door, smiling that perfect smile, knowing exactly what I was doing.
My mind raced with conflicting thoughts, a storm of desire and disgust battling for control. I hated that I was reacting this way, hated that image, this blatant defiance of everything I believed in. Was affecting me so powerfully. But even as these thoughts churned inside me, my body betrayed me, driven by an arousal that I couldn't deny.
My movements quickened, the intensity building as I lost myself in the fantasy. The image of the poster, the thought of her watching, the feel of my hand. It all combined into a whirlwind of sensation that left me breathless. I imagined the anime girl's soft moans, the way she would arch her back as he took her, the look of pure ecstasy on her face as she surrendered completely to him. And somewhere in that dark corner of my mind, I wondered was she enjoying it? Was she glad to be in his arms, to be dominated by a man so different from herself, from me? The thought sent a wave of pleasure through me, intensifying the sensation until it was almost unbearable.
Finally, with one last effort, I let go, the release washing over me in a wave of intense pleasure. But as the sensation faded, the confusion returned, lingering at the edges of my mind. I leaned against the sink, trying to catch my breath, but the feeling of unease wouldn't go away.
Why had she changed that poster? And why did it make me feel this way? The questions nagged at me, pulling me back into that place of uncertainty, of fear. What did this mean for me? Was this some kind of test, a way to see how far I would go? Or was it something else entirely, something darker, more insidious?
'There's no way, she's not that calculating.'
As I finished cleaning up and gathered my thoughts, I couldn't shake the strange feeling that had settled in my chest. The new poster kept flashing in my mind, its vivid imagery so different from what I was used to. I hesitated for a moment before opening the bathroom door, my mind still racing with questions.
When I stepped out, she was waiting for me, her smile warm and inviting. She must have noticed the uncertainty in my expression because she moved closer, her presence both calming and arousing, like a gentle yet unyielding force.
"Everything alright?" she asked softly, her eyes searching mine.
"Yeah," I replied, though I knew she could hear the doubt in my voice. "I just… I noticed you changed the poster."
Her smile widened, a knowing look in her eyes. "Did you like it?"
I hesitated, my heart racing again as I remembered the image, the way it had made me feel. "It's… different."
"Different can be good," she whispered, stepping closer until she was just inches away. Her hand brushed against my arm, a touch so light it sent shivers down my spine. "Sometimes, it's exactly what we need."
I swallowed hard, my mind still spinning, but as I looked into her eyes, I felt that tightness in my chest again, that unbearable pressure that I couldn't resist. She had to know what I had just done, what I had felt. And yet, here she was, standing so close, her presence both comforting and dangerously alluring.
I didn't know what to say, how to react. All I knew was that the image of that poster, of the man and the girl, was still burned into my mind, and the way she was looking at me now, the way her body seemed to invite me closer, only made it more impossible to escape.
She leaned in, her breath warm against my ear. "There's so much more to explore," she murmured, her voice a sultry promise. "Only if you liked it~."
I looked back at the poster, trying to process her words. The image of the anime girl entwined with the black man was still fresh in my mind, making my heart race all over again. "Do I like it?" I muttered to myself. "I mean, it's okay… I guess?"
She moved even closer, her hand brushing against my arm as she guided me back toward the bed. "I understand it's different," she murmured, her voice low and intimate. "But different isn't bad, is it? Sometimes, stepping outside of what we're used to can be… exciting."
Her words wrapped around me like a warm blanket, soothing the lingering doubts in my mind. There was something in her tone, something gentle yet persuasive, that made it hard to argue. She leaned in, her breath warm against my neck as she spoke again, her voice like honey.
"I chose this poster because I know what excites you," she continued, her lips just inches from my ear. "And I thought this might help you explore those feelings more… fully. There's nothing wrong with enjoying something new, something a bit more intense."
Her words sent a shiver down my spine, and I felt my body respond to the suggestion. The memory of my earlier release was still fresh, but the way she spoke, the way she framed it—it was hard not to feel that familiar warmth creeping back into my chest.
"I wanted to give you something that could take your fantasies even further," she whispered, her fingers trailing lightly down my arm. "Something that would excite you in ways you hadn't even thought of before. You enjoyed it, didn't you?"
I swallowed hard, my mouth suddenly dry. I could feel my face flush as I nodded, the memory of my arousal still vivid. My eyes went to the floor, ashamed, and I didn't want to meet her eyes as I spoke. "Yeah," I admitted quietly, almost ashamed to say it out loud. "I did."
Her smile widened slightly, her eyes softening with approval. Placing a finger below my chin, she gently raised my face up to look in her calm steady eyes. "Good," she purred, her other hand resting gently on my chest.
"That's exactly what I hoped for. I want you to feel free to explore your desires, to find pleasure in new experiences. There's no need to limit yourself to the same old things when there's so much more to enjoy."
I couldn't help but feel a surge of warmth at her words, the way she made it sound so natural, so right. It was as if she was guiding me, gently nudging me toward something deeper, something more fulfilling. The thought of it, of her being the one to open this new world to me. The idea of a woman so sexually arousing, so beautiful pulling me along was almost intoxicating.
"I know you might have some reservations,"
she continued, her voice like a gentle caress. Slowly her fingers went to my flaccid symbol of defeat, as it slowly came back to life again. I felt the urge to push her hand away, to stop it but I equally didn't want her to go away leaving me alone.
"But think of it as an adventure, a way to expand your horizons. And remember, I'm here with you, every step of the way."
She leaned in closer, her lips brushing against my cheek in the softest of kisses. "Don't be afraid to enjoy it," she whispered. "Let yourself go, let yourself feel everything. I promise you'll thank me for it."
Her words made it seem so simple, so easy to accept. Maybe she was right. Maybe this was just another way to explore my fantasies, to find new pleasures.As I looked back at the poster, the initial discomfort began to fade. Her fingers began lovingly stroking my manhood, as I felt her breathing in and out hot air against my cheek.
"Why don't you go back in, I am sure you will enjoy yourself."
"I don't know.. I don't usually do it that often."
"Do it for me then, I need you to go relieve your stress again sweetie~"
Maybe this was what I needed, something to shake up the routine, to bring a new kind of excitement into my life. With her by my side, guiding me, it felt… right. She smiled softly, sensing my shift in attitude.
"Good boy, this time would you do me a little favor?"
Her hand trailed down to rest on my thigh, fingers grazing my skin with a touch that sent a shiver through me. The image of the girl from the poster so submissive to that man, her face lost in pleasure. Flashed in my mind as she gently stroked my manhood, intensifying the tension building inside me. I could feel her breast pressing against my side, warm and soft, and then the wet, teasing slide of her tongue into my ear, sending a jolt of arousal straight through me.
"Just relax," she murmured, her voice a soothing lull that belied the intensity of the moment. "Enjoy it… but don't release, okay? Hold onto it for me, just a little longer."
Her words wrapped around me like a command and a plea, the way she asked so gently yet left no room for refusal. The thought of edging, of holding back while the images played in my mind, made my pulse quicken, the sensation both torturous and thrilling. Her request lingered in the air, a tantalizing challenge that I couldn't help but accept.
Maybe this was exactly where I was meant to be. But as my eyes lingered on the poster, doubt began to creep into my chest. The image of that black man dominating the pale, delicate anime girl filled me with a strange mix of emotions. I couldn't help but feel small, insignificant, as I compared myself to the powerful figure in the poster.
"I think I'll change it," I mumbled, the words tumbling out before I could stop them. "I'm not sure I like it."
Her reaction was immediate and devastating. Her face fell, genuine hurt flashing in her eyes as she hung her head low, a little sad even. The sight of her like that sent a pang of guilt straight through me.
"I put a lot of effort into all of that to surprise you,"
she murmured, her voice laced with disappointment. Watching a tear go down her face, I felt my soul being crushed for some reason. Like I stated a unspeakable evil, something incredibly horrible.
"It was my way of saying thank you for saving me…"
"Oh…"
The realization hit me like a ton of bricks. Now I felt like a dick, ungrateful and cruel. The guilt gnawed at me, making it impossible to shake the feeling that I had let her down. Maybe I could just ignore the poster and look at my collection instead. That seemed like the least I could do after the effort she had put in.
With a heavy sigh, I turned back toward the bathroom, my steps awkward and uncertain. As I sat down on the toilet, I reached a hand under the sink, searching for my small stash of things I actually enjoyed. Figuring my private collection would be enough to get me through this awkward situation.
'I will just enjoy my usual stuff, I don't have what it takes to look at that anymore.'
I couldn't help but glance at the poster, seeing the raw ecstasy on her face, the sway of her breast and the perfect hips I loved about her so much. When I opened the stash, the first thing I saw was a hand-drawn note. My heart skipped a beat as I picked it up, the paper soft between my fingers. The words on it were simple, yet they carried an undeniable weight:
"Make sure to masturbate and tell me how it feels after~"
'She really cares about me in her own unique way.'
The playful, almost teasing tone of the note contrasted sharply with the seriousness of the situation, making my heart race. She had thought of everything, leaving me no escape, no way out of the web she had so carefully woven around me. The message was clear, she wanted me to go back to that poster, to edge without releasing, and then to report back to her. The guilt of disappointing her, combined with the subtle power she held over me, made the idea of refusing harder by the second.
'I can't, I just can't do that.'
A flush of heat spread through me as I sat there, torn between the desire to retreat into the familiar comfort of my collection and the overwhelming urge to please her, to fulfill the expectations she had set for me. The image of that poster burned in my mind, more vivid than ever.
Moving her note aside, I saw something that made me pause. A silly sketch of my hand rubbing a tiny penis, with playful motion lines drawn around it. I couldn't help but giggle at the absurdity, but the light-hearted moment was short-lived. My eyes widened as I saw what lay beneath the note. My collection, the images that I had carefully curated over time, was gone. In its place was an entirely new assortment of printed material, none of which matched my preferences or tastes.
"What the hell…" I whispered, my heart sinking as I sorted through the images. The collection was now twice the size, stuffed to the brim with content that was meant to be arousing, but instead, it only left me feeling unsettled. Nearly every image featured solo girls in erotic outfits, and then there were the ones that really threw me off—all the men were black. Every single one. It was like she had gone out of her way to make sure that was the case, and the effort that had gone into selecting and printing these images was undeniable.
I sighed, feeling my mood drop as I sifted through them. The quality of the images was nice, the kind of care you'd expect from someone who had spent hours finding the best of the best. But it wasn't to my taste. It wasn't what I wanted. Yet, there was a part of me, small but growing inside. That wondered maybe if this was part of her plan or if she even had one.
"Well, I can always try it like she said,"
I mumbled to myself, though the idea of doing so filled me with a strange mix of disgust and curiosity.
One image in particular caught my attention, drawing me in with its vivid contrasts. A blonde girl with striking blue eyes was nestled between two powerful, dark-skinned men, her delicate, pale body almost glowing against the deep tones of theirs. Her soft, golden hair cascaded around her shoulders, framing a face that was twisted in a mix of pleasure and playful submission. Her full breasts had spilled out from the confines of her clothing, bouncing gently with each movement, and as she raised her hand in a playful peace sign, her expression conveyed a sense of exaggerated ecstasy, as though she was reveling in every moment.
The man standing in front of her had an enormous penis, thick and veined, that completely filled her mouth, stretching her lips wide around his girth. Her tongue protruded from her mouth, curling around his shaft in a way that seemed almost natural, as if she was born to perform this very act. The way her eyes fluttered closed, her cheeks flushed with the intensity of the moment, made it clear that she was utterly lost in the experience, her entire body responding to the pleasure she was both giving and receiving.
Her body seemed to melt into theirs, the sheer size and power of the two men enveloping her completely. The man behind her had his large hands wrapped around her waist, his fingers digging into her soft flesh as he guided her movements, his presence a constant reminder of the control they both held over her. The way they positioned themselves, one in front and one behind, created an image of total domination—two men effortlessly claiming her as their own, their dark skin a striking contrast to her pale, submissive form.
I tried to focus on the girl, on the way her body seemed to fit so perfectly between them, but my eyes kept drifting back to the men. Their sheer size, their confidence, the way they commanded the scene with such ease—it was overpowering, impossible to ignore. They dominated every inch of the image, their presence so strong that it seemed to dwarf everything else, making the girl seem smaller, more delicate, more vulnerable in comparison.
I felt a knot of discomfort tightening in my chest. "I don't like that she only gave me porn with black guys in them," I muttered under my breath. "It's actually disgusting to me."
But before I could dwell on it, her voice floated through the door, soft and sweet, with just a hint of teasing. "What's wrong? Not finding what you were hoping for?"
I hesitated, the thought of her knowing what I was looking at made my heart race. "It's… just different," I replied, my voice unsteady. "Not really my usual thing."
"Oh," she said, her tone light, but with an undertone I couldn't quite place. "I thought you might appreciate something new, something… special. I put a lot of thought into picking those out for you. It's only natural to try something different, isn't it?"
Her words lingered in the air, softening the unease I felt. My eyes drifted back to the image, to the way the girl was so completely surrounded by those men, her body seeming to melt into theirs. There was something mesmerizing about it, something that made my heart beat a little faster, despite myself.
"After all," she continued, her voice lowering to a whisper, "nature has a way of deciding who's on top, doesn't it? Some are just meant to be in control… and others, well, they find their place. It's not about fighting it; it's about accepting it."
Her words were like a gentle push, coaxing me toward a truth I didn't want to face but couldn't deny. My hand moved almost of its own accord, slowly, as I tried to reconcile the conflict inside me. The more I looked at the image, the less offensive it felt, and the more it seemed to pull me in.
"Just let yourself feel it," she murmured, as if she could see right through me. "There's no shame in knowing your place, in letting go."
I found myself edging, the sensations growing more intense with each passing moment. As I closed my eyes, I could almost hear her moans, soft and breathless, the way she gave in so completely, her body molding perfectly to theirs. The thought of her submission, of how natural it seemed for her to yield, made my pulse quicken. I imagined the way her voice would hitch, the way her breath would catch as she surrendered, not just to them, but to the undeniable power they held over her.
"Something else, I can't!"
I muttered, as I hurriedly skipped past the image, desperate to find something that might better suit my tastes. My hand settled on another photo, and as I lifted it, my breath caught in my throat.
This one featured a stunning brunette, her long, dark hair cascading down her back in loose waves. Her full lips were wrapped around a thick, throbbing cock, her mouth stretched wide as she took him in deep. Her eyes were half-lidded, a look of pure, wanton desire gleaming in them, as though she couldn't get enough. Her face was a mess of cum, glistening strands clinging to her cheeks and chin, adding to the raw, primal nature of the act.
The angle of the shot was intimate, as if taken from the man's perspective, capturing every detail of her large, heaving breasts. They swayed gently with each movement, her nipples hard and begging for attention, as she worked her mouth eagerly up and down his length. Just above her breast was a small tattoo, a delicate design that contrasted with the sheer intensity of what she was doing, making the scene even more striking.
Her tongue flicked out, licking along the underside of his cock with a skillful precision that made my pulse quicken. She was completely absorbed in her task, her expression a mix of determination and lust, as if nothing else mattered but pleasing the man in front of her. The way she handled him, with such ease and confidence, spoke volumes about her experience, her passion, her unbridled need to satisfy.
But even here, I couldn't escape the looming presence of the black man dominating the scene. His rod was massive, so large that it seemed to cover half of her face, and the more I stared at it, the more surreal it became. It was as if the sheer size of him was meant to dwarf everything else, to remind me of the power dynamic at play, to force me to confront the unsettling feelings it stirred within me.
"Did they photo edit the black guy's penis in every photo?" I muttered, shaking my head in disbelief. "It's always unrealistic in size… Whatever. I'll just pick a solo photo. This crap is weird."
But as I searched for something that didn't involve these exaggerated depictions, I found that the solo photos were few and far between. It was as if she had carefully curated this collection to steer me in a specific direction, to make me confront something that I had been avoiding, something that made my skin crawl but also piqued my curiosity.
Finally, I settled on an image of a girl by herself, her body posed seductively on a bed, the soft sheets rumpled beneath her. Her skin was a creamy, flawless expanse that seemed to glow in the dim light, her curves accentuated by the way she arched her back, pushing her hips forward as if inviting someone closer. One hand rested on the edge of her lacy panties, teasingly tugging them down just enough to reveal a hint of what lay beneath, while her other hand trailed up to her chest, fingertips brushing against the swell of her breast.
Her expression was one of playful allure, her lips slightly parted, eyes half-lidded as she gazed into the camera, as if daring the viewer to take the next step, to join her in the fantasy she was creating. Her hair, a cascade of rich brown waves, framed her face perfectly, adding to the seductive charm that seemed to radiate from her every pore.
As I stared at her, something caught my eye—a small tattoo on her hip, just above the edge of her panties. It was a simple black symbol, a spade, with a tiny heart nestled inside it. It seemed out of place on her otherwise innocent-looking body, a mark that hinted at something deeper, something I couldn't quite place. I didn't know what it meant, but there was something about it that intrigued me, that made her seem both more mysterious and more alluring.
It was simple, safe, and exactly what I needed to get through this. I tried to focus solely on her, to lose myself in the comfort of this single, uncomplicated image. But even as I stared at her, the other pictures flashed through my mind—those powerful black men with their enormous, exaggerated members, dominating the women in ways that made me feel small, inadequate, questioning my own place in all of it.
I shook my head, trying to push the thoughts away, but the images wouldn't leave. The contrast between this girl, so soft and inviting, and the others, who were so thoroughly consumed by the men in those previous images, was stark. The mark on her hip, that spade tattoo, seemed to call back to those scenes, a subtle reminder that there was more beneath the surface than I understood.
Despite the simplicity of this image, the others lingered, making it hard to fully escape. The feelings of inadequacy gnawed at me, the realization that, no matter how much I wanted to find solace in this single photo, the others had left their mark on me. They were inescapable, intertwining with the fantasies I tried to cling to, leaving me feeling exposed and uncertain.
The sensation of guilt mixed with arousal twisted inside me, and I couldn't shake the feeling that this was exactly what she wanted—for me to confront these conflicting emotions, to push me into a place where pleasure and discomfort were intertwined. I hated it, but I couldn't deny the effect it was having on me.
As I began to stroke myself, my eyes locked onto the solo image, trying desperately to block out everything else. But the rest of the collection, the ones I had avoided, loomed large in my mind, impossible to forget.
One image flashed before me—a petite redhead, her pale skin glistening with sweat as she knelt between two towering black men. Their cocks were enormous, thick and veined, standing tall above her, casting long shadows over her delicate frame. The contrast between their dark, muscular bodies and her small, fair form was striking, making her appear even more vulnerable, almost fragile, in their presence.
She was reached out eagerly with both hands, her fingers trembling slightly as they wrapped around the base of each cock, struggling to fully encircle their girth. Her face was a picture of desperate need, her wide eyes reflecting the powerful desire coursing through her. Her mouth hung open, lips swollen and wet from her efforts, glistening with a mixture of saliva and precum as she alternated between them, trying to take as much of each man into her mouth as possible.
Her tongue darted out, flicking along the underside of one cock, tracing the thick veins that pulsed with each beat of the man's heart. The sheer size of them stretched her lips to the limit, forcing her jaw to work harder than it ever had before, yet there was no hesitation in her movements—only pure, unadulterated submission. She wanted this, needed it, and her eyes, half-lidded with pleasure, revealed the ecstasy she found in her complete surrender.
As she worked to satisfy them both, her head bobbed back and forth, the muscles in her neck straining as she pushed herself further onto each cock, taking them deeper with every stroke. Her cheeks hollowed with the effort, her breaths coming in short, ragged gasps between each plunge, yet the look in her eyes was one of pure bliss. She was lost in the act, her mind focused solely on the task at hand, her body responding instinctively to the pleasure she was both giving and receiving.
The next scene, one of them reached down, tangling his fingers in her fiery red hair. Gripping it tightly as he guided her head back and forth, forcing her to take him even deeper. Her eyes fluttered closed, a muffled moan possibly escaping her throat as she surrendered completely to his control, letting him use her as he saw fit.
Even more was the next scene of the other man placing a hand on her shoulder. His grip was firm yet gentle, a silent encouragement for her to keep going. She definitely responded eagerly, her hand moving faster along his length, her strokes becoming more confident, more insistent. Her other hand squeezed the base of the first man's cock, her fingers digging into his flesh as she tried to take him even further into her mouth, her lips stretched tight around his girth.
The sound of her efforts definitely filled the room, the wet, sloppy noises of her mouth working tirelessly. The labored breaths as she fought to keep up with their demands, and the occasional moan that slipped past her lips, betraying the pleasure she found in her own submission. Her body trembled with exertion, sweat glistening on her pale skin, but she showed no signs of stopping, no hesitation in her movements in any scene. She was utterly devoted to her task, consumed by the need to please them, to prove her worth in this moment of complete and total surrender.
As the men began to move their hips, thrusting gently into her mouth, her body rocked in time with their rhythm, her eyes rolling back slightly as she lost herself in the sensation. Her hands continued to work them both, her grip tightening as she felt the tension building in their bodies, a silent promise of the release that was to come. The anticipation in her eyes, the way her body responded to their every movement, made it clear that she was ready, eager even, to receive whatever they had to give.
The scene was intense, overwhelming in its raw power and primal energy. The sight of her, so small and delicate between them, working with such desperate need to satisfy these men, was both captivating and unsettling. Her complete submission, her willingness to be used in this way, was a stark contrast to the strength and dominance they exuded, and it was impossible to look away.
Her fingers tightened around their cocks, her strokes becoming more urgent, more frantic, as she sensed them nearing their peak. Her mouth worked faster, her tongue swirling around the head of the first man's cock, savoring the taste of him as she sucked harder, her cheeks hollowing with the effort. The second man groaned deeply, his hand gripping her shoulder tighter as he thrust into her hand, his body tensing with the impending release.
I imagined the redhead moaned softly, the sound vibrating around the cock in her mouth, driving the first man closer to the edge. He pulled her head down, burying himself in her throat, and she gagged slightly but didn't pull back, her hands still working tirelessly to bring them both to their climax. The tears welled up in her eyes, not from pain, but from the sheer intensity of the act, the overwhelming sensation of being so completely filled, so completely dominated by these powerful men.
And then, with a final, shuddering gasp, they came. The first man held her head in place, his cock buried deep in her throat as he released, filling her mouth with his seed. She swallowed eagerly, her eyes fluttering shut as she savored the taste, the feel of him pulsing in her mouth. The second man followed moments later, his hand tightening on her shoulder as he released onto her chest, his cum splattering across her pale skin, marking her as his.
The redhead shuddered with pleasure, her own body trembling with the aftershocks of their release. She looked up at them through half-lidded eyes, a satisfied smile playing on her lips as she licked the last remnants of cum from her lips, her hands still gently stroking their softening cocks. Her body was spent, exhausted from the effort, but there was no mistaking the pleasure in her eyes, the fulfillment she found in her complete submission.
As the men stepped back, she knelt there, panting softly, her chest rising and falling with each ragged breath. Her pale skin was streaked with sweat and cum, her hair mussed and tangled from their grip, but there was a serene look on her face, a quiet satisfaction that spoke volumes. She had given herself completely, and in doing so, she had found a twisted sense of fulfillment, a pleasure that went beyond the physical.
'I don't know if I can compete with these men.'
Another image pushed its way into my thoughts—a raven-haired beauty with striking green eyes, her body bent over the arm of a plush leather couch. Her ass was raised high, her back arched in a way that showcased every perfect curve of her body. The way her hips jutted out, tilted upward, highlighted the smooth expanse of her back, leading down to the soft, round cheeks that quivered with every movement. The curve of her spine accentuated her slim waist, drawing the eye down to where her thighs spread slightly apart, a clear invitation to the man who loomed behind her.
The man behind her was a muscular black figure, his broad shoulders and powerful build dominating the frame. His hands gripped her hips with an authority that left no room for doubt—he was in complete control. The way his fingers dug into her soft flesh, leaving faint indentations, was a testament to the force with which he drove himself into her. His body was a masterpiece of raw power, every muscle defined and flexed as he took her with a relentless, unyielding rhythm that seemed to shake the very frame of the image itself.
Her mouth was open in a silent scream of pleasure, her lips parted as though she had been frozen at the height of her ecstasy. Her eyes, wide and wild, were a vivid green, shining with an intensity that matched the ferocity of the moment. They were filled with a look of pure, unfiltered ecstasy, as though she had found something in that moment that she could never give up—something primal and all-consuming.
Her fingers were white-knuckled as they dug into the fabric of the couch, gripping the material as if it were the only thing anchoring her to reality. Her nails left little crescent-shaped indentations in the leather, the marks of her desperate need to hold on as wave after wave of pleasure crashed over her. Her body rocked in time with his thrusts, each movement sending ripples through her flesh, her breasts swaying heavily with the force of his movements.
The sounds of their union probably filled the room, a symphony of wet slaps and deep, guttural groans that reverberated through the air. Her breaths maybe came in ragged gasps, each one punctuated by a soft moan as she surrendered herself completely to the overwhelming sensation. Her skin, flushed and glistening with sweat, gleamed in the low light, every curve of her body highlighted by the sheen of perspiration that coated her.
Her eyes, half-lidded and glazed over with pleasure, were locked onto a point just beyond the camera's view, as if she were staring into the abyss of her own desire. The intensity of her expression was almost frightening in its rawness, an unfiltered, primal need that transcended mere lust. It was as if, in that moment, she had become something more than human. An embodiment of pure, unadulterated pleasure.
'Could I ever make a woman feel that way?'
The man behind her in the next image growled low in his throat, his grip tightening on her hips as he pounded into her with increasing fervor. The sheer force of his thrusts seemed to reverberate through her entire body, her back arching even further as she pushed back against him, meeting his every movement with a fervor of her own. The way her body moved, the way she responded to his every touch, spoke of a deep-seated need. One that could only be satisfied by the overwhelming power of the man behind her.
Her moans grew louder, more desperate, as he took her to the brink of her endurance. Each thrust seemed to push her further into the abyss, her body trembling with the effort to keep up with his relentless pace. Her breasts bounced with each movement, the soft flesh jiggling enticingly, while her ass, round and firm, jutted out in offering, welcoming his every advance.
The intensity of the scene was almost too much to bear for me, the way she submitted so completely. The way her body responded with such eager acceptance. It was as if she had been waiting her entire life for this moment, for someone to take her in this way, to claim her with such absolute authority. Her every movement, every sound she made, was a testament to the sheer pleasure she found in her own submission.
Her body looked convulsed with each powerful thrust, her fingers curling into the fabric of the couch as she fought to maintain her grip. Her mouth, still open in that silent scream, trembled as she teetered on the edge of her release, her entire being focused on the man who had claimed her so completely. The look in her eyes, that unfiltered ecstasy, was the final piece that completed the picture. A woman who had found something she could never give up, something she would crave for the rest of her life.
Then there was the image of a blonde girl, not much older than a college freshman, her innocent features a stark contrast to the situation she was in. She lay sprawled across a bed, her legs spread wide as two black men took her from either end. One was buried deep between her legs, his thick cock stretching her in ways that seemed almost impossible, while the other pushed his length down her throat, her eyes rolling back in her head as she struggled to take it all. On her ankle was a small, almost hidden black spade tattoo, identical to the others. A look of surrender was etched into her face, as if she had accepted her fate, her body given over to their complete control.
Then there was the image of a blonde girl, not much older than a college freshman, her innocent features a stark contrast to the situation she was in. Her soft, golden curls framed a face that still held the youthful innocence of someone barely out of her teens, yet the scene she was part of was anything but innocent. She lay sprawled across a luxurious bed, the crisp white sheets rumpled beneath her as two towering black men took her from either end, their powerful bodies dwarfing her petite frame. Her legs were spread wide, revealing the slick, glistening evidence of her arousal, as one man was buried deep between her thighs, his thick cock stretching her in ways that seemed almost impossible.
Her delicate body seemed to tremble with each of his forceful thrusts, the sheer size of him making her appear even smaller, more fragile in comparison. Her toes curled, the muscles in her legs tensing as she struggled to accommodate him, her breath hitching in her throat with every deep penetration. Her eyes, wide and glassy with a mixture of pain and pleasure, locked onto his for a moment before rolling back in her head as she surrendered completely to the overwhelming sensation.
At the other end of the bed, the second man stood, his powerful hands cradling her head as he pushed his length down her throat. Her lips, swollen and glistening with saliva, stretched around the girth of his cock, the sight almost surreal in its intensity. The way her throat worked to take him in, the way her cheeks hollowed with the effort, was a testament to her submission—a clear indication that she had given herself over to their complete control.
Her eyes fluttered shut, a look of surrender etched into her delicate features as though she had accepted her fate, her body given over entirely to the two men who claimed her with such authority. On her ankle, just above the curve of her calf, was a small, almost hidden black spade tattoo, identical to the others—a mark that seemed to symbolize her place in this dynamic, a silent declaration of her acceptance of this role.
But as I stared at the image, something deeper stirred within me—a sense of inadequacy, of being on the outside looking in. The way she gave herself to them, the way her body responded to their every touch, was something I could never hope to replicate. She was lost in the moment, her mind and body consumed by the pleasure they provided, and there was no room for anyone else in that world they had created.
The more I looked, the more I realized that this was not just a scene of intense sexual pleasure, but a reflection of a power dynamic that left me feeling small and insignificant. The men in the image were everything I was not—strong, confident, dominant—and the way she yielded to them so completely only highlighted my own shortcomings. Her body, so perfect and willing, was something I could never hope to possess, something that would always be out of my reach.
As the scene played out in my mind, the realization hit me with brutal clarity—I was nothing more than a spectator, a voyeur in a world where I would never be anything more than an afterthought. The pleasure she found in their dominance, the way her body responded to their touch, was something I could never provide. I was merely a witness to her surrender, to the power these men held over her, and it left me feeling hollow, inadequate, and desperate for something I could never attain.
A wave of humiliation washed over me as I imagined myself in the room with them, not as an active participant, but as a silent observer, forced to watch as they took what I could never have. The thought of her moans, her cries of pleasure as they filled her from both ends, sent a shiver down my spine—not from arousal, but from the bitter sting of knowing I could never elicit those sounds from her. They were in control, and I was powerless to do anything but watch as they claimed her, their dominance over her a painful reminder of my own inadequacy.
The image of her, stretched between these two powerful men, her body writhing in ecstasy as they used her, was burned into my mind. And as I imagined her looking at me, her eyes filled with a mixture of pity and disdain, I realized that this was exactly where I belonged—not as the one in control, but as the one who watches, who yearns, who knows that he will never be enough.
'No, it's not true. I am better than this.. right?'
The thought of it, the sheer intensity of the humiliation, sent a surge of conflicted emotions through me—arousal mixed with shame, desire intertwined with self-loathing. I couldn't look away, couldn't escape the reality of my place in this twisted fantasy, and it left me aching, hollow, and desperate for more, even as I knew it would never be enough.
These images, so vivid and overpowering, gnawed at the edges of my mind, challenging everything I thought I knew about myself. No matter how much I tried to resist, to focus solely on the safe, simple image in front of me, they were a part of this now, a part of what she had done to me. The memory of those scenes lingered, a constant reminder of the power dynamics at play, and the unsettling truth that I could never fully escape from them.
As I began to stroke myself, my eyes locked onto the solo image, trying desperately to block out everything else. The girl in the photo lay seductively on a bed, her hand teasing the edge of her panties, her expression a mix of innocence and invitation. Her creamy skin glowed softly in the light, her curves perfectly highlighted as she arched her back slightly. Her blue eyes met the camera with a look that seemed to beckon me closer. It was simple, safe, and exactly what I needed to get through this. But as much as I tried to focus on her, the other images from the collection loomed in my mind, impossible to forget.
The girl in the photo seemed so pure, so untouched by the more intense scenes I had just seen, yet as I stared at her, my imagination began to betray me. I couldn't help but picture her in those other scenarios, her soft, delicate form overwhelmed by powerful, dominant men. I imagined her lying on that bed, but instead of teasing her panties, she was pinned down, her wrists held tightly by a strong, dark hand. The playful look in her eyes was replaced by a wide-eyed, breathless expression as she was taken in ways she had never imagined.
In my mind, I could see her hips bucking as she tried to accommodate the sheer size of the man above her, her body arching in a mixture of pleasure and pain. I could hear the soft, desperate moans escaping her lips as she struggled to keep up with the relentless pace he set.
The more I imagined, the more the line between the real and the imagined blurred. The girl in the solo image, who had seemed so simple and safe, was now part of the same haunting narrative. I could see her in every one of those scenes. Kneeling between two towering men, her lips stretched wide around their massive cocks, her eyes glazed over with a mixture of submission and desire. I could picture her bent over the arm of a couch, her ass in the air as she was taken forcefully from behind, the black spade on her back glistening with sweat.
These images, so vivid and overpowering, gnawed at the edges of my mind, challenging everything I thought I knew about myself. No matter how much I tried to resist, to focus solely on the girl in front of me, the others had become a part of this now. Memory of those scenes lingered, a constant reminder of the power dynamics at play, and the unsettling truth that I could never fully escape from them.
I found myself edging closer, my hand moving faster as the fantasy grew more intense, my mind unable to separate the girl on the bed from the more twisted scenarios I had seen. The innocent, seductive pose she held seemed to fade away, replaced by the dark, tantalizing thoughts that now filled my mind. I imagined her surrendering completely, giving in to the overwhelming power of the men who claimed her, her soft, breathless moans echoing in my ears as I pushed myself closer to the edge.
Just as I was starting to lose myself in the fantasy, her voice cut through my thoughts, soft yet insistent. "Remember what I told you," she murmured from outside the door, her tone sweet but with an edge of command.
"Don't release. Not yet. I want you to keep looking, to explore what I've picked out for you. There's so much more for you to see."
Her words sent a shiver down my spine, my hand pausing for a moment as I tried to gather my thoughts. But the pull of the other images, the ones I had tried so hard to avoid, was too strong. They began to flood my mind again, each one more vivid and overpowering than the last.
I found myself flipping through more images, unable to resist her instructions. Another girl caught my eye, a sultry brunette with piercing blue eyes. Her body draped across a luxurious chaise lounge. She was nude, her curves on full display, with her long legs stretched out seductively. A thick, black man stood over her, his hands wrapped around her ankles, spreading her wide. Her expression was one of pure bliss, her lips parted in a silent moan as he teased her entrance with the head of his enormous cock. On her inner thigh, near her groin, was that same black spade tattoo.
My breath hitched, and I could feel the tension building, but I held back, remembering her command. The next image was of a slender, red-haired beauty, her hair cascading over her shoulders as she knelt on the floor. She was surrounded by three black men, their cocks towering above her as she reached out to stroke them with eager hands. Her face was a mask of pleasure and submission, her lips forming words I couldn't hear, but could easily imagine. Her body was covered in cum, her skin glistening as if she had just emerged from the most intense experience of her life. That same tattoo was etched just above her breast, almost hidden in the curve of her cleavage, a silent declaration of her place in this dynamic.
"Good boy," her voice came again, interrupting my thoughts, dripping with both praise and expectation. "I can tell you're starting to get it. But don't stop now. Keep looking. There's still so much more for you to understand."
I could feel the edge, the brink of release so close yet still out of reach, and I knew that I couldn't hold on much longer. But her voice, her commands, kept me tethered to the moment, to the fantasy she had woven around me. And as I looked at the final image—a blonde woman with a sweet, innocent face, her body completely enveloped by the powerful black man above her—I knew that I had crossed a line, that these images, these fantasies, would haunt me long after this moment had passed.
"Keep going, remember don't release just yet~"
The next image nearly took my breath away. A raven-haired beauty with a delicate, almost angelic face was lying on her back, her legs spread wide as a massive black man hovered over her, his cock poised at her entrance. Her eyes were wide with anticipation, her hands gripping the sheets beneath her as she prepared herself for the inevitable. Her petite frame was almost swallowed by his size, and yet there was a look of complete surrender in her eyes, as if she knew this was exactly where she was meant to be. The black spade tattoo on her inner thigh stood out starkly against her pale skin, a mark that seemed to signify her place in this world, a world where she was utterly dominated.
"Look at her,"
Her voice whispered through the door, her words sending another wave of arousal through me.
I felt like she could see me right now, knowing exactly what I was doing.
"She knows what she wants, and she's willing to give herself over to it completely. Just like you are right now. You're so close, I can feel it. But I need you to hold on a little longer."
I flipped to another image, my body trembling with need. This one showed a curvy, dark-haired Latina woman, her olive skin glowing under the light as she was bent over a kitchen counter. A black man stood behind her, his hands gripping her hips as he drove into her with powerful, rhythmic thrusts. Her mouth was open in a silent scream of ecstasy, her fingers clutching the edge of the counter as if to ground herself in the overwhelming sensation. The black spade tattoo was inked just above her tailbone, a small but significant detail that tied her to the others, a symbol of her submission.
In another image, a raven-haired goth beauty knelt at the feet of a black man, her black lipstick lips parted in anticipation as she gazed up at him with wide, adoring eyes. The black spade tattoo on her breast was a stark reminder of her place, a mark of ownership that seemed to glow against her pale skin. As she leaned forward to take him into her mouth, the look of utter devotion on her face made it clear that she had given herself over completely, her body and soul belonging to him and him alone.
In another image, a raven-haired goth beauty knelt at the feet of a black man, her black lipstick lips parted in anticipation as she gazed up at him with wide, adoring eyes. Her dark makeup only served to highlight the contrast between her pale skin and the deep, rich tone of his body, a stark visual representation of their power dynamic. The black spade tattoo on her breast was a stark reminder of her place, a mark of ownership that seemed to glow against her alabaster skin.
The next scene she leaned forward to take him into her mouth, her hands moved with a delicate precision, fingertips grazing along his thighs before wrapping around the base of his thick shaft. Her touch was reverent, almost worshipful, as if she was handling something sacred, something that demanded her utmost respect. The look of utter devotion on her face made it clear that she had given herself over completely, her body and soul belonging to him and him alone.
Her lips, painted a deep, inky black, brushed against his tip, the contrast between her dark lipstick and his skin creating a visual that was as striking as it was intimate. She looked hesitant for just a moment, as if savoring the anticipation of what was to come, before slowly parting her lips wider, allowing him to slide into her mouth. The deliberate pace at which she moved spoke of a practiced submission, her every action carefully measured to please him.
As she began to take him deeper, her tongue curled around his length, tracing the veins that pulsed beneath his skin with a slow, deliberate motion. The subtle flicks of her tongue, combined with the gentle suction of her mouth, sent shivers through him, and she could feel the response in the way his body tensed beneath her touch. Her eyes never left his, wide and glassy with a mixture of adoration and submission, as if she was silently asking for his approval, yearning for any sign that she was fulfilling her role to his satisfaction.
Her hands slid lower, one cupping his heavy balls with a tender care, while the other rested on his thigh, her nails digging into his flesh as she steadied herself. The sensation of his hardness filling her mouth, combined with the weight of his balls in her hand, seemed to drive her deeper into her role, her own arousal evident in the way her breath quickened, in the subtle tremor that ran through her body.
As she bobbed her head, her black hair fell in a curtain around her face, brushing against his thighs with each movement. The soft rustle of her hair, combined with the wet sounds of her mouth working his length, created a rhythm that was almost hypnotic, a steady cadence that drew them both deeper into the moment. Her devotion was palpable, not just in the way she moved, but in the intensity of her gaze, in the way her eyes seemed to worship him even as she took him deeper, her lips stretching to accommodate his size.
At one point, she paused, pulling back slightly to catch her breath, her lips glistening with saliva as she looked up at him with a mixture of need and desperation. Her chest heaved with exertion, her breath coming in shallow gasps as she leaned in again, this time with renewed fervor. The black spade tattoo on her breast seemed to pulse with her heartbeat, a constant reminder of her place beneath him, of the role she had accepted and embraced.
With each thrust of his hips, she took him deeper, her throat constricting around him as she struggled to take all of him. Her gag reflex kicked in, but she pushed through it, the tears that welled up in her eyes only adding to the intensity of the moment. She was determined, relentless in her efforts to please him, and the more she struggled, the more she seemed to revel in the challenge.
Her body trembled with a mixture of exertion and arousal, her nipples hardening beneath the thin fabric of her top as she continued to worship him with her mouth. The black spade tattoo seemed to glow against her pale skin, a symbol of her submission, of her willingness to give herself over completely to his dominance.
Finally, as she felt him tense in her mouth, she knew he was close. Her pace quickened, her tongue working in tandem with her lips to bring him to the edge. The look in her eyes was one of pure, unfiltered devotion, as if this was the moment she had been waiting for, the moment when she could finally prove her worth, her loyalty to him.
When he finally released into her mouth, she accepted it with a quiet dignity, her lips closing around him as she swallowed, her throat working to take every drop. She didn't pull away, didn't falter in her devotion, even as he softened in her mouth. Her hands continued to caress him, her touch gentle and soothing as she licked him clean, her eyes still locked onto his, searching for any sign of approval, of satisfaction.
As she finally pulled back, her lips released him with a soft, wet pop, and she looked up at him with a small, satisfied smile. The black lipstick was smeared slightly, and a single tear had made its way down her cheek, but she didn't seem to care. All that mattered was the look in his eyes, the silent acknowledgment that she had pleased him, that she had fulfilled her role.
'I don't think a girl would ever look at me like him..'
With a final, reverent kiss to the tip of his cock, she knelt back on her heels, her hands resting in her lap as she began kissing his next rod. The black spade tattoo on her breast was a constant reminder of who she belonged to, of the power he held over her, and the satisfaction that came with knowing she had given herself over completely to that power.
"Don't you see?"
Her voice murmured in my ear, as if she were right beside me.
"This is natural. It's how things are meant to be. You, holding back, giving in to the pleasure I've laid out for you. You're mine right now, and I want you to keep going. Keep edging, keep feeling every moment."
The next image was almost too much to bear. A young, blonde woman with an innocent, almost angelic face was seated on a black man's lap, her legs wrapped around his waist as he guided her up and down his enormous cock. Her breasts bounced with each movement, her head thrown back in a mixture of pleasure and surrender. The black spade tattoo on her ankle was barely visible, but it was there, a small but telling mark that never seemed to go away.
The next image was almost too much to bear. A young, blonde woman with an innocent, almost angelic face was seated on a black man's lap, her delicate legs wrapped tightly around his waist as he guided her up and down his enormous cock with a firm grip on her hips. Her pale skin glistened with a sheen of sweat, each bead of moisture tracing the curves of her body as it moved in perfect rhythm with his. Her breasts bounced with every thrust, their full, round shape accentuated by the way her body arched in response to his powerful movements.
Her head was thrown back, her golden hair cascading in loose waves down her back, framing her face in a halo of innocence that starkly contrasted with the raw, primal pleasure etched across her features. Her mouth hung open, a silent scream of ecstasy on her lips, her eyes half-lidded as though lost in a world of pure sensation. There was a look of total surrender in her expression, a mixture of helplessness and desire as she gave herself over completely to the man beneath her, her body moving of its own accord, driven by the need to feel him deeper inside her.
Each movement of her hips was deliberate, her body rolling with the practiced ease of someone who had found their true place. The way she clenched around him, the muscles in her thighs straining with effort, only highlighted her complete dedication to pleasing him. The soft sounds of her pleasure, the gasps and moans that escaped her lips with each thrust, surely filled the room, a symphony of submission that was impossible to ignore.
Her hands, once resting lightly on his shoulders, now clawed at his back, her nails digging into his skin as she struggled to hold on, her body overwhelmed by the sheer intensity of the sensations coursing through her. Her back arched further, her breasts thrusting forward, their bouncing becoming more frantic as he increased the pace, his strength and size almost too much for her to handle.
But it wasn't just the physical sensation that had her on the brink; it was the knowledge of what she was doing, of who she was doing it with probably, that sent waves of pleasure crashing over her. The feeling of being so completely dominated, of being used by a real man who could control her every move, was intoxicating. She probably had never felt so alive, so aware of her own body, of its needs and desires. And with each thrust, each powerful movement that sent her hips crashing down onto his, she felt herself being pushed closer to the edge, closer to a release that she knew would be unlike anything she had ever experienced.
Her body quivered, a soft tremor that started in her legs and spread upward, a sign of the approaching climax that she was powerless to stop. Her breath came in ragged gasps, her chest heaving with the effort of keeping up with him, of matching his relentless pace. And as she felt herself being pushed over the edge, as the waves of pleasure began to crest, she knew that this moment, this connection, was something she would never be able to let go of.
The man beneath her seemed to sense it too, his grip tightening on her hips as he drove her down harder, deeper, his own pleasure evident in the way his muscles tensed beneath her. There was a possessive quality to his movements, a sense of ownership that only heightened the intensity of the moment, making her feel even more connected to him, even more bound to the role she had accepted.
And as she finally reached her peak, her body convulsing with the force of her orgasm, her cries of pleasure echoing through my mind, there was no mistaking the truth of the situation. She was his, completely and utterly, her body, her mind, her very soul belonging to him in that moment.
Her movements slowed, her body still trembling from the aftershocks of her release, but the connection between them remained, an unspoken bond that would never be broken. Semen pouring out of her, I could feel the intensity of the scene the more I looked.
My hand moved faster, the tension in my body reaching a breaking point, but her voice kept me tethered to the edge. "You're almost there," she whispered, her tone both soothing and commanding.
"But not yet. I want you to feel everything, to hold on just a little longer. You belong to me right now, and I want you to savor every second."
I was on the brink, my entire body trembling with the need to release, but her voice, her commands, kept me from going over the edge. The images of those women, each marked with that mysterious tattoo, swirled in my mind, intertwining with the fantasy she had created for me. The more I tried to resist, the more I found myself giving in, surrendering to the pleasure she had so carefully orchestrated.
"You've done so well," she whispered, her tone dripping with satisfaction, her control over me absolute. "
"But you're not done yet. There's one last thing I want you to understand."
I held my breath, my heart pounding in my chest as I waited for her next command, every fiber of my being focused on her voice. The images still swirled in my mind—the women, their bodies dominated by powerful men—but it was her words that held the real power over me, that kept me tied to the edge of release.
"Close your eyes,"
As she instructed, I obeyed, my eyelids sliding shut as I focused on the sound of her voice. Her words reverating in my mind like complete orders, I felt myself losing control clinging even more to her.
"Imagine them, all of them, the women you've seen. Picture their pleasure, their submission, their complete surrender to those men. Now, imagine yourself—not as the one in control, but as the one watching, the one who could never measure up. Feel it, that sense of inadequacy, of knowing you'll never be what they want."
An image of a woman in my hand, a petite blonde with soft curls framing her face had my full attention listening to her speak. She lay sprawled across a lavish bed, with her face showing a mocking expression. Her body was a study in contrasts as the black man above her claimed her with a steady, relentless rhythm. Her fingers clutched at the sheets, her back arching as she moaned in a mixture of pain and pleasure. The look in her eyes was one of pure, unfiltered ecstasy, as if she had finally found what she had been searching for all along. His dominance was absolute, and she seemed to revel in it, her every movement a testament to her complete surrender.
Her words cut deep, like a blade slipping between my ribs, but I couldn't resist. I could see it clearly. The women, their eyes filled with lust for those other men, their bodies responding to the power that I could never possess. The pleasure, the control, it was all out of my reach, and I could feel the sharp sting of that truth, the bitter realization of my own powerlessness.
"And now," she whispered, her voice like velvet, yet cold and unyielding, "I want you to let go. Release everything you've been holding back, accept what you are, and fall into the pleasure of your own defeat."
In the final image, a slender redhead was held aloft by the black man, her legs wrapped around his waist as he pounded into her with a force that seemed to shake the very room. Her eyes were rolled back, her mouth open in a wordless cry of ecstasy as she was completely overwhelmed by the sheer power of his thrusts. The black spade tattoo on her ankle was a stark contrast to her pale skin, a symbol of her submission and his dominance. As she reached the peak of her pleasure, her body shuddering in his grasp, the realization hit me with brutal clarity. I would never be the one to give her this. I was nothing more than a spectator, watching from the sidelines as she was claimed by a man who was everything I could never be.
In the final image, a slender redhead was held aloft by the black man, her legs wrapped around his waist as he pounded into her with a force that seemed to shake the very room. Her eyes were rolled back, her mouth open in a wordless cry of ecstasy as she was completely overwhelmed by the sheer power of his thrusts. The black spade tattoo on her ankle was a stark contrast to her pale skin, a symbol of her submission and his dominance. As she reached the peak of her pleasure, her body shuddering in his grasp, the realization hit me with brutal clarity. I would never be the one to give her this. I was nothing more than a spectator, watching from the sidelines as she was claimed by a man who was everything I could never be.
My breath caught in my throat as I watched them, my heart pounding in my chest with a mix of envy and despair. The way her body moved against his, the way she seemed to melt into his embrace, made it painfully clear that she had found something with him that I could never offer. His strength, his dominance, his sheer presence, his enormous cock. It was everything I lacked, everything that drew her to him and left me in the shadows.
Her fingers dug into his shoulders as she clung to him, her body writhing in pleasure as he took her with a confidence and authority that I could only dream of. The contrast between her pale skin and his dark, powerful form was a stark reminder of the divide between us. A divide that I would never be able to cross. The black spade tattoo, now glistening with sweat, seemed to pulse with a life of its own, a symbol of her choice, her allegiance, her submission to a man who embodied everything I was not.
And as I stood there, watching them, I could feel something inside me break—a realization that this was my place, my role in this dynamic. I wasn't the hero of this story, the one who would win her heart and claim her as my own. I was the loser, the one who watched as she found pleasure, fulfillment, and ecstasy in the arms of another man. A man who was stronger, more confident, more capable than I could ever hope to be.
And as I watched her climax, her body trembling with the force of her release, I knew that I would never be able to give her what she needed, what she craved. I was inadequate, unworthy, and there was nothing I could do to change that. The man who held her, who claimed her so completely, was everything I was not—and it was his strength, his dominance, that had captured her heart and soul.
The man finally reached his own climax, his powerful body shuddered, pouring in hot white semen into her. In the last image her face was one of pure raw pleasure, as she laid down on the bed with his seed still pouring out of her.
With a shuddering breath, I finally gave in. The release was different this time, tainted by the realization that I was not the one in control, that I was nothing more than a spectator, a shadow on the sidelines. The pleasure was mingled with shame, an overwhelming wave of sensation that left me breathless and trembling, yet hollowed out and empty.
For a few moments, there was nothing but the cold, stark reality of my place, of the role she had forced me into. And then, as the waves of sensation began to ebb, I was left with a deep sense of loss, as if something vital had been stripped away, something I hadn't realized I was surrendering.
Her voice came again, softer this time, almost mocking in its tenderness. "Good boy. You've done exactly what I wanted. Now, rest. You're going to need your strength for what comes next."
The words hung in the air, a promise of further humiliation, a reminder that this was just the beginning. Whatever she had planned for me, whatever I had just been reduced to, it was far from over.
As I lay there, spent and exhausted, the images still lingering in my mind, I realized that I had crossed a line, one I couldn't return from. Slumped down my manhood was shrunk so far I felt it might never go back, and the images were scattered all over the floor as I stared at them in a complete daze.
"This is only the beginning, my dear. There's so much more for us to explore. You'll come back to me, won't you? Because you need this, because you belong here, in your proper place."
And deep down, as I lay there in the dark, I knew she was right.
"Yea."