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. Political fucking

Discussion in 'Cuckold Stories' started by Lutheran Maid, Jan 3, 2018.

. Political fucking 5 5 3votes
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  1. Lutheran Maid

    Lutheran Maid Well-Known Member Author!

    How many arguments have I had with Martin? How many beatings has he taken for daring to argue with me? Luther won't tolerate resistance from my husband. If he doesn't do as we say, he gets hurt. If he doesn't learn from the beatings, then eventually he will be pushed out to live on the street like so many other sad, defeated, lame white men. The trouble is that Martin has thought to much about what is happening to him. He has thought too much about what I do to him. He has chosen to try and reason this out, rather than to accept my rules. He has tried to reason with me, to chisel himself something more than servitude out of our three way relationship. That is simply pointless. Martin is there to be used and to furnish Luther and I greater pleasure, greater success with our shared projects. Still, it strikes me that other white males may get beaten less if I summarise the chemistry that overtakes a woman when she lies with a black guy instead of her husband. It might help them slide down the slope of Mount Humiliation with a whimper rather than a whine about their lot. So for what its worth here is what women like me are about do to men like you.

    Make no mistake about this, the first 'thing' that a woman has with a handsome, well built black guy is always physical. It is always about imagined coupling, submitting to him and letting him use you. However much I was a sister of the feminist revolution of the years before I met Luther, I instinctively wanted to submit to him. It was as if my hind brain said, enough of all that victim women ideology, insisting on women's rights in some kind of legal way, your rights are based somewhere more deeply instinctive. It starts with the insistence that you chose who fucks you, who you give yourself to. You chose who wins the prize that most men are driven mad by, your pussy. You chose the black man's cock and once it is up you, thick, pulsing, proud and brutal, you are never going to accept something smaller, weaker, less masculine again. You simply aren't. So you become drawn to black men's company. If you are lucky you know one or more married girlfriends who have already qualified their marriage vows, saying now that they will remain faithful, unless the black guy wants them. Then they will always chose black, they will always put themselves on a plate for him, always invite his amorous attentions till you fuck casually, quickly, surrendering to his manhood, on the first date, without a sheath and without any protestation that your husband might object. Your brain does the math. You read how big the black guy is, how ineffectual your husband is and you decide the contest is over...in an instant. Deep down, you have always accepted the superiority, the physical mastery of black men.

    I remember when Martin realised that. He found out the way that many husbands do. When I came home one night after Luther had fucked me hard and I was dripping. Martin must have sensed the change in me, you really do get arrogant and feel horny when you start something with a bigger man, so he begged to lick me out. Is that instinctive beta behaviour...I wonder? Anyway, after an altercation about his pestering I edged up my mini skirt and he saw the mess that my sex was in. I was pulled about. You really do get drilled out. You smell of sex, because you gape down there. Spunk drips onto your stockings. So I stank of fucking and fucking with a black guy. The spunk it was thicker, copious, musky and masculine. Martin scowled, his little face dropped, but he licked. At first it was tentatively but after he inhaled a few times, after he got the scent up his nose, across his tongue and gums, the licking became open mouthed and I knew that what the girl's said was true. White men submit. They submit to the inevitable when you lie with a black guy.

    What astonished me about the next months was how the driving need to give myself to Luther combined with the burning urge to put down Martin. It was like two sides of a coin. You can't have half a coin and then expect it to work. You accept the coin as is. There's no one favourite face, one side used only. So I would date Luther, without reference to Martin, without consultation, and then when Martin waited at home for my return, I would direct him to the carpet or bed and then sit on his face. Queening a man changes things. You decide how much pressure. You can hold pussy up off him and make him crane his neck for drippy licks. You can bury your sex on his face, wiping your cunt across his mouth, nose and chin. You can use him like a wipe. Like Carol, I started to wee on my husband's face. I peed into his mouth and watched him swallow that down as best he could too. I did it and my body shuddered with the pleasure. Just as licking sent a message up my spine into my head, so the decision to wee on his face seemed to send an equally powerful message to my breasts and to my sex. It is VERY, VERY, VERY sexy to humiliate a man that way. As you pee you are thinking about your lover. You think what a bitch you are and how that will turn the alpha on so very much. Martin didn't complain. It was as if he knew my man was very powerful, simply because I chose to do that, piss all over him. After I'd used him that way I would let him stand up, trembling before me and just look him over. He looked drenched, he smelled of pee. He whispered things like, 'I worship you' and I spat in his face. 'I don't worship you any more, I can't, you're a nothing' I told him calmly.

    So I don't think you can go with a black guy regularly as a married woman and not become a bitch. Once that black dude owns you, and that's something you crave like crazy, then you think like a bitch. You become obsessed with getting your man, diminishing others around you. You become driven by the need to confirm to a man like Luther that he is physical aristocracy and your husband is nothing more than the village serf. Luther wanted it. He loved it. It wasn't too long before he fucked me in front of Martin. He wanted to see my husband cry, he wanted to hear him whimper whilst he coupled me. I am vocal on Luther, I always grunt and beg and scream. That Martin heard that mattered not a jot. In fact, I got a terrible, a horrible thrill from it, knowing that Martin was watching Luther's cock occupy me, make me writhe and moan, and he couldn't do a thing about it. Luther hit Martin after the first time he fucked me in front of my husband. Martin had done nothing wrong. He hadn't tried to resist. He hadn't begged Luther to stop. But there was a point to be made. Luther was master so he could hit Martin when he chose. Martin stood there and he took the punch. Then Luther suggested that I kick Martin in the crotch. I was wearing boots and nothing more. I did it. I kicked him there and he fell to his knees whimpering. It was somehow necessary. A dismissal of his manhood, his status as my husband. He wasn't my partner in any sense then. He wasn't an equal. He was an inferior. Luther said, 'you address Claire as Miss in public, mistress in the home'. Martin nodded, sobbing with the pain of the disciplining. Luther pulled Martin's face up, pinched his cheeks in his big muscular black hand. He wrenched his face around to where I stood and bade my husband to thank me for kicking his cock. A test of whether he had understood, whether he accepted his new humble station. 'Thank you mistress' Martin mumbled with a swollen, a bitten tongue. It felt exhilarating. Carol said that I would. She knew that you feel terrible power in the protection of such a dominating man.

    Pretty soon after that, the social, the public side of the lifestyle advanced. It was this that freaked Martin. Private humiliation he would take, but public humiliation did his head in. He begged me not to shame him. But I take you back to the coin and the impossibility of half measures. In going with Luther I went with his culture, his social group. I wasn't the only white married bitch who was black owned. Carol was owned by Ismail, Sue was owned by Saul and Jennifer was Winston's. The social circle was large. Other girls wanted to get owned. Other black guys wanted to own a bitch rather than to simply enjoy fucking them casually. There was, there is, a buzz in owning a bitch and increasingly in owning her husband too. It was so much about breeding. It was political. If I had recently reframed my feminism politically, securing power under the wing of a black alpha male, I was prepared now to press that so much more. I wanted Luther's babies. I believed that white women should only have black babies. I wanted other girlfriends to join our group and to find a black guy to own them. It was brutal. One husband did end up on the street because he wouldn't bend. He ended up living out of hostels and other cuck husbands were brought to lick Gina's sex for her. She would get the benefits of being owned, yet paradoxically being female alpha too, irrespective of whether her husband caved in as he was meant to.

    Martin hated that with a passion. He hated the ending of white supremacy through breeding. He hated it that I came off the pill and had Luther's baby. The baby, a cherub daughter who will live and think like us, was like a terrible slap in the face to Martin. He hated playing nanny to her. He hated calling her Little Miss. By then Luther had moved in and quite a circle of people knew how things were. They recognised the 'movement' and they were curious about how we 'lived that way'. Sometimes Martin would sob. Sometimes he would tremble and say he wished he could be different. It frustrated me. It infuriated me that he wasn't committing body and soul to the bigger thing, the inevitable change. I would interrogate him with questions. Does your dick get stiff when you watch Luther fuck me? Yes. Did you cry with relief when I safely birthed Luther's baby? Yes. Do you feel inadequate, a little awed when you watched me breast feed his baby? Yes. Well then, what are you really denying Martin? You are denying what you are! You are denying the change that is coming. Women will chose what a white husband becomes. They will chose what role they are allowed to play. They will insist that the husbands defer to the master of the household and we will be done with the old ways. We will wipe away all that racism because mixed background babies will be the norm. Women like me will chose successful, physical specimen males like Luther and breed the new society. All those prejudices about under achieving black guys will be history Martin. Do you hear....Do you?
     
    SissyHub, joelhwood and smakmr like this.
  2. smakmr

    smakmr Member Member

    Excellent story as always, I wonder will Martin be used sexually?
     
    sexyboots likes this.
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