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. Emma's Pedicure

Discussion in 'Cuckold Stories' started by Frobisher, Aug 11, 2017.

. Emma's Pedicure 4 5 1votes
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  1. Frobisher

    Frobisher Active Member Author!

    Hi all I’m Rob, and I’m what you might call an angry old white man. Angry, humiliated and frustrated as hell, that’s me. And I’m not alone. Seems like any regular white man livin in this ole town has a total of zero chance of getting with a woman of any race nowadays, especially them hot fertile white girls. Not since the blacks took over and turned our women into their bitches, and beat us white men into submission

    Let me start by sayin’ that us humans, well, we’re social animals and we’re highly influenced by what’s in fashion and the choices made by our peer groups. Recently, it’s became fashionable for white women of all ages to date and fuck black men. I’m telling you man, it’s nothing short of a phenomenon. Not just here, we see it every freakin where: interracial couples on TV, in ads, in the movies, at the mall, at bars and clubs – hot white women, both married and single, flocking to those muscular black studs in droves, almost throwing themselves at them, offering their drooling cunts to them, preferring to breed with black thugs than decent hardworkin’ white folks like you and me. For their own reasons, more and more white woman are rejecting white males. It’s enough to make you sick, lemme tell ya.

    It’s no lie, what happened in my town was enough to make a liberal-minded guy like me wanna join the KKK. Cept I can’t now see, cos the klan, they don’t exist anymore, least not in my parta Florida. No sir. Since that clubhouse burnt to the ground last spring, and those white fellas that stood up to the blacks, well, you don’t wanna know what happen to them you surely don’t.

    I really didn’t wanna admit to anyone about what happened in my town, man, I didn’t. It was too shameful. I am still shamed bout what happened I guess. I call it the takeover, cos that’s what it was. But jeez, us decent white folks hardly put up any fight at all, we just let these aggressive blacks take over, just take our power and fuck our women right under our darn noses.

    But then, I was interested to read a narrative on here describing a village in the UK where aggressive black males had moved in and taken all the local women as their bitches. The black men now rule the roost there too, just like here in FL, while the white men who remain have become second-class citizens in their own homes. Believe it or not, the white males are required to work and toil for those black men from the city and their hot bitches.

    According to the old guy narrator in the UK, these prim young hot English ladies made a conscious choice to live in what he said was an “ordered and secure environment” where they could “explore their needs and desires”. I say they made a conscious decision to live the good life as arrogant, spoiled bitches with their own fucking servants. Race-traitors enjoying their power and getting kicks out of male humiliation, like something outa the freakin slave days of old.

    Man, there are many similarities with that UK village and my town in the sunshine state right enough. Real similarities here to what happened in the ole UK. It’s true man, in both my town and in the English village, the women were offered a simple choice. They could be with a big, strong black man who would teach them to rule and live a life of luxury and privilege, while they are waited on hand and foot. Or they could stay with a white male and live life as a second-class citizen, jus like him. Given the choices the women made, it just goes to show how much bitches are influenced by sex, money, power and peer pressure.

    They say looks don’t count, but man, do they ever. Those arrogant, handsome, muscular big-cocked black men just took our women from under our noses man, my new girlfriend Emma included. Those horny white bitches just watched as those black men taught us husbands and boyfriends a lesson. Did any single one of those hot girls intervene on our behalf? Did they fuck.

    Like that village in England, the black men of my Florida town simply ended up owning the women. There was not one single white guy who was able to compete for a fertile woman. Most women in my town chose to live in a house where a white male worked and toiled every fucking moment of every fucking day to ensure that they had everything they need, while a handsome, vigorous, powerful and bigger black man ploughed and pounded them into submission at night. They made the choice alright, and they chose a better life, a better lover and a better provider. They didn’t care that the trinkets, the sexy, bitchy clothes, the cars, the furniture that their black men provided had in reality been stolen from their ditched white men, through extortion, blackmail or threats of physical violence. Those bitchy hot white women of my town didn’t want to know where their fine jewels and slutty dresses came from – or maybe they just didn’t care.

    Some white males managed to escape my town to start life elsewhere. They left physically bruised but also mentally of course. But many white men, the weaker ones, still remain. All the degrading manual work in my town is now done by cowering white men who are scared of their black masters and equally scared of their white bitches, who seem to take delight in finding fault in their labor. I swear just last night I saw one of the most aggressive black men, Latimer, kick a naive white man to the ground then kick him again and again in a dusty garage forecourt, till he cried and begged. His crime? Simply telling one of Latimer’s haughty young white bitches that he loved her curves.

    It was round about back in ‘08, that’s when the first tough blacks started hitting on our women. Don’t get me wrong, there had been blacks here for many years, but mostly they was serving in the restaurants, cleaning the pools and keeping our lawns tended. We were a pretty affluent place for Florida, as it goes. A lot of the houses have swimming pools and such, three, four bedrooms, a coupla cars, that kinda thing. Anyway our cosy, privileged middle class life changed forever with the new community program down at the overcrowded penitentiary 50 miles south, getting on Gainsville way. Prisoners were offered early release as long as they agreed to work, and local communities like ours were supposed to support their efforts to “rehabilitate”.

    That was a joke man, those bastards didn’t wanna rehabilitate at all. What they wanted to do was take our money, our power and our women. And didn’t they just.

    Well, as a result of the program the towns businesses were forced to offer paid work to dangerous black men – thugs, I call them. All of a sudden, the local businesses were legally required to employ thuggish black ex cons from Miami, Jacksonville and even Atlanta. And the “work” they did mostly involved intimidating and beatin us white folks and stealing our women.

    Well, not long before the program started I’d finally scored me a girlfriend. I was 48, with a paunch and a weed habit, but I also had my own auto repair shop that was doin a good trade and I guess that’s what persuaded Emma to take me on as a provider. I’d met her online, baited her with flattering pics taken years ago when I could still fit into my size 4o jeans. I told her I was a self-made businessman, and well, I was in a way.

    And boy, was Emma a stunna. Hottest woman I’d dated for sure. Thick girl, but I like that. I like it a lot. Straight, long black hair and a set of ass and tits to die for. She was only 32, but had been around the block some. She’s been beaten up by her ex husband, and was more than a little wary. But I tell ya man I used every trick in the book to make her mine. Overstated my wealth, took her to the Panhandle, NYC and the Ritz in Puerto Rico, bought her fine jewelry and gifts, pampered that stacked little bitch no end. I near bankruptd myself but it finally paid off, and she agreed to move in. To be blunt I fell in love with the bitch big time, man. It was my first time with a woman in six years man, since my ex wife Daphne cheated on me then ditched me.

    I did my best to keep Emma happy. I quit the weed, cut down on the booze and started working out. I was obsessed with her, so much so that I could never fuck her for long, she was just so freakin hot man. I was eager to please, and after I spurted into my condom I spent a long time on my knees, lapping her wet, engorged pussy to get her off, yes I did. I tell ya man, I thought I was doin a good job for her, makin her happy and contented like.

    I even gave Emma pedicures. I’d done the same to my ex wife Daphne, on demand, and I was good, man. I was something of an expert yknow and I thought it added to my value as a man. To be honest I also find a hot girls feet sexy as hell, I’m kinky like that. I had all the gear, man full kit im telling ya including hot water tub, rough and smooth files and even nail varnish. After giving Emma a pedicure I would varnish and paint her pretty toenails. The whole process took about 90 minutes but it would be worth it to watch her put on those sexy, open toed high heeled sandals on afterwards and strut her stuff. Boy, she was hot as hell.

    But that was before the blacks arrived.

    I gotta give Emma some credit, she didn’t go off and fuck with the first black man who came onto her, a mean stud called D’Qauaan who walked up to her and simply grabbed her butt in the bar. She resisted, even told him to show some respect. The bad news is that she happily fucked the second black guy that came on to her, and that was Anton.

    It started slowly. The first wife to go black was Fiona, ironically a posh English girl who’d been wooed by the American dream. She’s married a local boy, Earl, who was a realtor. While he was out flipping houses she was being flipped to black by a hulking ex con called Winston who was on early release from Starke. In such situations it’s usually the cheatin spouse who departs the nest, which is only right an proper as a rule. But in this case it was Fiona who stayed. Winston moved in and Earl was given his marching orders. I saw him on the street not long after he’d been turfed out on his ass, and he looked a sorry state, covered in bruises and drinking from a brown bag. Turns out Fiona’s American Dream wasn’t quite what poor Earl had in mind when he met her.

    It sucked for Earl and he ended up on skid row but another of the first cuckolded husbands, Roger, well he was more accepting. Or so it seemed. His young wife Brittney was fucking Damien, a massive dude from Savanna, but Roger was still living at their five-bedroom villa while his wife was being boned in their bed. Initially many of us menfolk thought it was one of them new fangled liberal relationships you hear about, but it later turned out that Damien simply didn’t allow Roger to leave. He needed him around, you see, to demonstrate his power to young Brittney. Damien treated Roger mean, evil in fact, and Brittney, the bitch, well she started to get off on the humiliation. They had Roger sucking and lapping at Brittney’s hot young cunt before Damien fucked her. I later heard that Damien had Roger rimming and kissing his bare ass while Brittney watched. One time later they had him on a fucking leash if you can believe it man, kneeling and groveling and crying tears on their front porch with a bare striped ass for all to see.

    Rachel and Alison were also among the first white bitches to succumb. They were both big, busty girls in their late 30’s, both divorced, and both with a reputation as an easy lay. Hell, even I’d had a coupla dates and a fumble with both of them. Rachell, I was dating for a while but the bitch broke it off without allowing me to bed her. Back then, I reckoned I’d spent about 1000 bucks on three fucking dates with that sexy whore, and ended up with a blunt rejection and a raging hard on. A real hooker would have been cheaper dontcha know.

    Anyway, Rachel and Alison were the first to dress like real sluts for their black men, and seeing those hot bitches in their sexy outfits almost gave me a heart attack. I’d turned the corner from Klein onto Main Street and there they were, walkin ahead of me, each arm in arm with a tall. muscular black man, with their big asses jiggling like jello and their high heels clicking on the sidewalk, prim and proper as you like. Like I say, they were big girls and both were wearing these thin red leggings or yoga pants that must have been three or four sizes too small. I couldn’t help stare, man, any guy would do the same. You could see their fucking cunt flaps, clear as day. It was obscene, like those darned thin leggings were molded to them or something. I swear Rachel was actually wet, you could see a damp patch spreading from her hot cunt as a big black hand pawed her ass.

    Rachel glanced behind and saw me, and her look was one of arrogant distain. She said something to Alison, who spun round. “What the fuck you lookin’ at Robbie?” Alison said. “Keep your fucking eyes off me. Its long been over between us. This aint for you boy”.

    I was gonna say something I tell ya. I was gonna tell her that she had no right to act and dress that way in our respectable town and act all haughty like that. I was gonna tell her I had a girlfriend, thank you very much. I hesitated, then started to speak, but only for a second. Before I could get the words out one of the black guys, who I later learned was Rachel's new boyfriend Latimer, just walked up to me and simply lamped me one right in the face, hard as you like. There was nothing subtle about it man I tell ya. I ended up in the gutter, missing a front tooth. I looked up through dazed eyes, stunned, and found myself staring at two sets of leggings-encased legs and high heels and listening to the sound of girls giggling. Then the black guy who had punched me walked up to me and put his shoe clean on my face. “Kiss my dogg, boy, and don’t be staring at our fucking bitches again” he said menacingly. “They ours now. Remember dat boy”.

    Well, what could I do? Defeated and humiliated, I started kissing his designer shoes while the hot girls looked on. I had no option man. I felt so humbled and humiliated. Rachel and Alison didn’t care that I’d been punched. They were enjoying my humiliation. It turned the bitches on.

    That’s when I knew something was seriously amiss in my town and I became scared that one of the new black guys might move in on Emma. She was a fun lovin gal and loved to go out on the town, and I was worried that it was only a matter of time before one of them hit on her. I thought she’d resist, but then again that’s what poor Earl thought.

    In truth it didn’t take long for my Emma to ditch my ass, I can tell ya. With so many big studly black men around it was only a matter of time before she moved on to better things as she put it later. It’s like the town had a different vibe to it, and she couldn’t go against the grain, man.

    It felt like my world had had ended that day I arrived back home after a hard day’s work and spotted a strange black Hummer parked in my drive that I later leaned was the property of Anton. I walked inside and heard the unmistakable sounds of fucking coming from our bedroom. Not the spare bedroom, you understand, but the sacred space I shared with my darling girlfriend. And she was squealing, man, she was squealing and moaning so loud, making these sounds I’d never heard before. Her moans and sobs will stay with me for the rest of my life. The slut knew I was expected home, but I guess she just didn’t care. Emma was just loving her new man’s big black dick too much to care about me. Fuck, I thought. Fuck, fuck, fuck. My mind was in turmoil.

    Well, what can a man do? I could just sit there and listen to the love of my life being pleasured and screwed, listening to the bitch mewling and sobbing with delight, or I could leave. So I walked out of the house and returned to my car, started the engine and drove off. I was in a trance. This couldn’t be happening. The bitch! How could she do this to me? The fucking whore. Fuck, I thought. Fuck.

    I went to my local bar and it was fuller than usual, but the atmosphere was sullen and quiet. One white man, Pete, was sobbing in his arms on the bar, and another was in a booth just staring at the wall. Others sipped their drinks in silence. No women were present. The bar was full of white men. Some were sporting bruises, and all looked like they’d just seen a ghost. I sidled into one of the remaining seats at the bar.

    “What’ll it be?” said the barman. I ordered a Jack and asked him to keep them coming.

    Turns out they could have renamed the bar the Cuck’s Lament, given the stories that were told that evening. There must have been at least ten local white men in that bar, and every single one of them had been cucked. One by one they told their stories, how they had been dominated, bullied and brushed aside by a stronger black man. Some admitted that they had been forced to crawl and grovel, to worship their wife’s’ cunts and even lick her lover’s cock while she watched. When it came to my turn, I realized I had escaped relatively easily. Although I still loved Emma madly and feared for my safety, I realized that I would be safer quitting the town.

    I booked into a motel and was late for work the next day, with a stinking hangover. Instead of getting started on the Chevy in the shop, I found the weed stash that I hadn’t touched for months and rolled a big joint. That morning I was getting high, drinking coffee and smoking that grade A skunk that I had vowed to quit for my Emma, for what good it did.

    Around 11am my relative calm was shattered when a black Lexus pulled up. Out stepped Latimer, tall as a basketball player but heavily muscled, almost like a bodybuilder. and looking stronger than an ox. I tell ya, those black men work out hard in da big house, and use all kinds of cheats to get those ripped bodies. Honestly man, a black man’s muscled body glistens and shines in the sun, like a white man can’t compete. He actually adopted a bodybuilder’s pose so I could see his strength I guess. Then Rachel stepped out, in high heels and a tight clingy dress that struggled to reach mid-thigh. I must admit she looked stunning. I’d not smoked weed for months and was high, which made the sight of such a hot woman even more intense.

    “Give me a good hand-shine boy and don’t forget the rims” Latimer ordered, shouted at me. “Get to it now if ya wanna keep the rest of ya teeth”

    I couldn’t believe my ears. How could the guy be so rude, so disrespectful?

    He stood there with his arms folded and just waited. “Well?” he said.

    Terrified, I fumbled to find a rag and polish. I don’t normally clean any vehicle as part of my trade, and if I ever did I’d run a hose. But no, the black man wanted to see me on my knees shining his fucking rims like a fucking servant in front of Rachel. He wanted to demonstrate his power to her, and the bitch found it hot.

    “Put some effort into it boy. I wanna see ma rims shine like mirrors” Latimer, said and then strolled into my shop like he owned it, leaving Rachel on the porch seat with her legs crossed, looking directly down at me and not saying a word. But man, I tell ya, I swear I could smell that hot bitch’s juices wafting through that close air as I polished them rims faster than I’d ever polished anything in my life. Even though she’d never let me between her hot thighs when we dated, I knew the scent of her well.

    There was a reefer on the table that I’d been just about to light before my calm was shattered. Rachel lit it up, and re-crossed her legs. She breathed in heavily, then exhaled.

    “Missed a spot” she said.

    I looked to where Rachel was pointing but it was clean. Still, I polished the area as thoroughly as I could to appease the bitch.

    “Make sure you clean the hood too” she said. “Look, you missed another spot”

    I continued polishing in sullen silence as she puffed on my weed.

    Latimer strode back out of the shop, a bottle of my 12-year old bourbon in his hand, and two glasses. “Get me some ice boy” he said.

    I scurried in and fetched some ice, before getting back to my demeaning task of cleaning his Lexus. Dunno if a mentioned but my auto shop is on a busy street, and quite a few white fellas walked past. They all took one look and glanced away, like they couldn’t believe they had seen that image and were trying to blot it out.

    That image they saw was that of a cowering, very scared white man on his knees frenziedly cleaning the rims of a black man’s Lexus while that same black man kissed and fingered his hot bitch ex girlfriend. It was humiliation beyond belief. A number white women saw me in that degrading position including my bitchy ex wife Daphne and Allison. Both of them hated my guts for one reason or another, and at that time both were of course fucking black men. Both girls said nothing, but just stared with an almost disbelieving look on their pretty faces, as though they were witnessing a miracle or something. Rob was finally being brought to heel and they liked it, I guess. They waved at Rachel and giggled.

    Then Rachel, the haughty bitch, stood up, spun on her heels and walked up close and started examining the car’s bodywork it for marks, running her finger over the shiny metal and then examining her fingertip. “Hmm”, she said, “It’s OK I guess”. I breathed a sigh of relief.

    When Rachel and Latimer finally drove off man, then I began to make plans to leave. I had lived all my life in that town and didn’t wanna leave but I was terrified of those black thugs man. And it soon got worse. Soon, I had to fix their rides no charge and they all insisted on a polish. I was fucking car shine boy man, they called it me to my face. They used to pull up with their bitches who would step out of the car their dainty heels and sit on the little seating area on the deck, cross their legs, crack a can and watch me clean their cars. I had to work fast, too. If they thought I was slacking, the women would tell their men.

    What finally persuaded I had to get away was when Brittney and Winston came round for a shine and I got knocked around no end, including a couple of times by Brittney who slapped me, hard for “being too slow” in fixing her a drink. The change in the women of our town was incredible, man. They’d been transformed from a fun-loving, sexy girls into a cruel, bitchy black cock sluts.

    So I went online, sold my business to a chain dealer and made plans to leave. I told no one. All my self respect was gone. Just before I left I also sold Emma’s car – paid for by me and officially owned by me – as it happened to be in the shop. I left my smart house, man, I’d deal with that later –– and planned to escape to the Keys. But I didn’t even get as far as Kissimee

    Barely ten miles out of town I was flashed by the car behind. I glanced into my rear view mirror and spotted a black Lexus. No way could I outrun it. The car's headlights were flashing me urgently. Terrified, I pulled over. Out of the vehicle stepped Latimer and Anton, who both strode over to my window. I wound it down, involuntarily shaking. My heart was in my mouth

    "Where ya headed boy?" Anton said.

    "Er...er...sorry sir....I was just....er.." I was tongue tied.

    "You leavin town white boy?" Latimer said, clicking his knuckles before curling them into a fist. "Dontcha like it here?

    N...n...n. no no, I wasn't leaving town' I replied, stuttering with fear. 'Goin Nigbt fishin'

    Then Rachel stepped out of the car and sauntered over.

    “Hi Rob” she said.

    Then her phone rang. She answered it and spoke in hushed tones for a few seconds.

    “Emma wants a pedicure” Rachel said. “Get back there now and give her one right now”.

    Emma wanted a fucking pedicure? Really? I could hardly comprehend what Rachel was saying. I just sat there in the car, stunned. Why did Emma want a pedicure? Why did she want me around at all? I was her dumped, rejected mate. Why couldn't she just leave it at that?

    'Yeah boy, I hear you good at makin sluts feet look bitch.' Anton said. 'Get your sorry ass home. We gonna make you pamper my bitch good. Follow our fucking car boy.”

    So that's how it happened. Rachel sat in my passenger seat and crossed her legs, as I drove. I could hear the static of her black stockings as she crossed those hot pegs and smell her perfume and sex. She was making me hard as a rock as I was forced to follow the black mens car to my own home, which I had not set foot in for many days.

    "Rob I'm telling you this for your own good' Rachel said. 'You need to remember to always address Anton and Latimer as sir" Rachel crossed then re-crossed her hot legs once more. 'You need to address every black man as sir, and you need to call us madam.”

    There was a silence then she said 'Do you understand Roy? You need to be respectful to the black man’s bitches too. Its what we want".

    “Yes” I said.

    “What was that Roy? Rachel said.

    “Yes ma'am” I said.

    Honestly, I wanted to drive into a tree or something and take the bitch with me into oblivion. Part of me still wishes I had..

    When we arrived at my former home Emma was on the sofa with her hot shoeless feet on display. She was wearing tight leggings with small holes running down them, giving tantelising limpses of bare flesh, as well as a tight clingy top showing off her big breasts beneath the fabric. She smiled at me, knowing full well how hot she looked.

    Rachel and one of and the guys pushed me in Emma's direction.

    “Time to get to work Roy' Emma said. "No slacking".

    “Uh, yes ma'am” I said.

    I was hoping that I could just bitch up her fucking feet and leave, get away, get more drunk and stoned than I ever had before. If this was reality, I was best out of it. But no, that's not quite how it went down.

    Oh I gave Emma a pedicure all right. I gave her the best fucking pedi I'd ever given in fact.

    Man I tell ya. Just imagine for one second being forced to strip naked in front of the woman you love, then forced to kneel in front of her with both your ankles cuffed to two heavy metal rings that have been screwed into the wooden floor.

    Imagine bathing her feet in hot water while she stares arrogantly at you, twisting her pretty ankles. Imagine her wearing an ankle bracelet that simply says “Anton.”

    And, imagind a fierce black man walkng up behing you with a long, thick bamboo cane in his hand. Imagine the terror you feel as you make a frenzied effort to please the hot lady in front of you, working that file fast on her dead skin with your feet firmly bound.

    Then, just imagine the black man asking the sadistic bitch if you are doing a good job, her staring at you arrogantly for a long, long second before saying 'Well, I think he could be doing better'.

    And imagine the excruciating pain of blow after blow from the bamboo cane comes down on your ass, crying tears onto Emmas feet and pleading for mercy while she films your agony with her phone. Imagine Emma telling Anton to hold off while she gets Alison and my ex wife Daphne on a video chat so they all can watch and enjoy my agony and humiliation together.

    Anyway after I finally completed the pedicure to her satisfaction, Emma put on her slut heels. Then my hands were cuffed behind my back. With my feet still fimularly cuffed to the floor rings I was completely yelpless. Emma then used her long fingernails to rip open the crotch of her hot leggings to reveal her slick drooling cunt. She positioned her engorged cunt lips right in front of my face she said 'what do you tbink Rob? Am I a hot bitch?

    “Yes ma'am” I said..

    “Make him beg and plead to lick you” Daphne said over the phone

    "Go on Emma" said Rachel.

    “Do you wanna lick me Rob? Emma said. “Say please?”

    “Uh, pleas ma'am, please” I said.

    “Go ahead Rob” Emma said. “But I want to be juiced up by your tears. Cane him Anton. Cane him hard while he licks”

    Well lemme tell ya, after just five minutes I wasn’t licking any more. I was sobbing and crying into Emma’s cunt. She reached behind my head with both hands and pulled my face hard into her hot sex, wrapping her legs round my head, muffling my screams as Anton caned me, excruciating stroke after excruciating stroke. She came on my face man, the bitch came on me. My entire face was covered in her juices.

    “Good job Rob” Emma finally said, still holding her phone. “Did you catch all that girls?”

    “That was just soo hot” Alison said over the phone.

    “Oooh, I want a pedicure too now” Rachel said. “Should we arrange a time Rob? When are you free?”

    The true answer, unfortunately, was never again.
    Last edited: Feb 19, 2018
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