Black Man One Ch. 23

"Give what you want but be respectful, mutha' fuckers!" He commanded.

In silence, and with great apprehension, the other 8 timid white husbands took out their check books and began writing out checks. Their faces were veiled in fear and intimidation as I stood there with my arms down at my sides. I was confused about what to do and shaking in fear.

Since I was not aware of the meeting in the first place I did not have my check book with me. The others had theirs. For some reason, this worried me. I was more worried about how this young black stud would perceive my "lack of generosity" towards his so-called organization than anything else. I stood there quivering in fear as the others finished their check assignments and began handing them to Tra'mon.

"Good Boy. You're dimissed." He announced to each white husband, one after the other, as he took their donation checks from their hands.

I had no idea how much they wrote their checks for. I would never know. But, I believed the amounts were considerable. I still believe this.

As the other white husbands departed with their heads hung low in total shame, I stood there with nothing in my hands but the returned investment check her handed me minutes before. I had been at the end of this staggered line of husbands and now I was the last one standing in the workout center room with the dominant black man. He quickly leafed through the eight checks in his hands and grinned, almost knowingly. Then, he turned and looked upwards and in my direction.

I literally swallowed the lump in my throat when he looked my way. My eyes immediately fell to the blue padded floor of the little gym as I shivered in fear of what could happen next. The returned check and unusual black envelope fell from my limp grip and gently drifted to the floor about two feet before me.

"What? My nigger organization ain't good enough for ya' whiteboy?" He shouted, as he began to stroll towards me in his flimsy bikini suit.

"N-N-No. N-No, Sir. I-I just, uh, d-don't have my check book w-with me, Sir." I mumbled.

Perspiration began to form on my forehead and the top of my head of thinning hair. My tall frame shook with fear as the younger black stud approached me and began to circle me in an obnoxious and arrogant slow-motion. His cockiness and arrogance was intimidating me to no end, and my eyes began to form tears as he strolled around me with tremendous cockiness.

"P-P-Please?" I blubbered, an unconscious whisper coming from my suddenly parched lips.

"Please? Please what, pussy?" Tra'mon asked almost amused, using an even more sarcastic tone as he continued to circle me.

My knees weakened even more. They were growing weaker by the second as I felt his strong presence finally stopping for a second behind me.

"P-Please d-don't beat m-me up, Sir?" I groveled. "Puh-puh-please?" I repeated.

As Tra'mon moved directly in front on me he looked upwards into my passive eyes. My 6'4" tall frame towered above his more masculine, muscular and dominant 5'9" tall frame, yet I cowered in absolute fear. Like always, I felt weakened standing before him. Two tears from the corners of my eyes unconsciosuly began to run down the sides of my flustered face.

"What? You think I'm gonna kick dat' weak, white pussy ass of yours again cus' you ain't donating to my cause, boy?" He asked rather sternly.

His voice seemed irritated and almost insulted by my sudden pleading. My eyes lowered a past his firmer eyes and to the floor, once again.

"N-No, I-I guess not. No, S-Sir. I-I don't th-think that, Sir." I pleaded, swallowing loudly.

Tra'mon then put his index finger to my weak chin and lifted it ever so slightly, forcing me to look downward and directly into his dark eyes. His actions made me quiver even more.

"Huh, boy? Is that what cha' think?" He began, looking at me with a fierce look that scared me.

"I already kicked dat' ass, haven't I? And, I'd kick dat' ass for other reasons, like when you talk shit 'bout me to my cunt." he continued, his strong finger remaining under my chin.

"But, not for somethin' like this charity organization I'm serious 'bout, got that boy?" he asked speaking louder.

"Y-Yes, Sir. I, uh, I, uh g-got that Sir." I meekly whispered.

"I-I uh just d-didn't bring my ch-check book, Sir. Th-That's all." I added, trying to explain.

The black stud simply released his finger from the underside of my chin and stepped back about three feet from me. He stared me down for a moment as my eyes fell back to the floor. I felt so intimidated that I could hardly look up.

Tra'mon began looking down to the blue padded floor in front of him. He noticed the wayward returned investment check that had fallen from my hands. Rudely, he placed the toes of his beach sandaled right foot on the very corner edge of it.

"Well, looks like there's a check right here boy!" He suddenly snapped with greater sarcasm.

Passively, I looked up to see the young black stud with his foot on the corner of the check he had just given to me. The check was for $132,000.00, which was my initial $120,000.00 investment plus the added 10 per cent. Now, he was strongly suggesting that I sign it all over to his B.O.A.S. charity organization.

"Like I said to all y'all white boys. You give whats ya' want to. Or, you thinking your white bread ass is too good to donate to my nigga charity?" Tra'mon asked, fiercely.

"Huh, boy? Is that what it's all 'bout?" He asked, with an even firmer tone.

His tone petrified me and my knees weakened to the point where I finally fell down. I collapsed to my knees on the padded blue mats of the gym. I simply knelt there and looked at the seemingly angered young black man I had just "insulted" again as he stood 3 feet before me.

"N-No. N-No, Sir. I-I ..." I stammered.

"I-I guess I could, um, s-sign the check back over to y-your cause, Sir?" I replied, defeatedly.

At the time, I was so unbelievably intimidated by this younger man that I thought signing over this rather large check back to him would spare me. I felt that it might spare me yet another demoralizing situation and yet another ass kicking. I felt doing so might passify him for now.

This wasn't the only thing that crossed my terribly affected mind, but it felt like the pressure to do so was unbearable. Yes, I knew Tra'mon was pressuring and bullying me into donating this large sum of money to his black charity. Yet, I was too weakened to protest in any way. Weakened, I was giving in once again.

"You guess, boy?" he suddenly returned.

"Oh, gosh! I-I meant I could. I m-mean I will, S-Sir." I trembled, accepting his suggestion.

"You sure, boy? You pussy ass whiteboys tend to talk lotsa' shit. You gots to be sure." He stated, sarcastically.

Once again, the young black thug was forcing me to say it again. He was making me tell him that I was willing to scarifice my earnings as an investor to his cause, which was a cause that didn't feel real at all. Still, I defeatedly accepted these ridiculous and unrealistic conditions. They were conditions of acceptance that I am sure he knew would stand up in any court of law.

"Y-Y-Yes, Sir. O-Okay. I-I will, S-Sir. P-Please? I j-just wanna go, please." I replied in a faint, meek and pleading whisper.

"Go? Go where, boy?" He asked, rather sternly.

I could not respond.

Tra'mon Smith then tossed a black pen to the floor at his powerful, sandaled feet. It landed right next to the investment check he was stepping on and securing. The very corner of the back of this check was covered by his black sandal-covered right foot.

"Well, git' to it. Sign it, boy!" He ordered.

I was visibly shaking by this time. I knelt there too afraid to look back up into his eyes as he stood there with this authoritative stance that made him seem more ominous to me. To him, it was more than obvious how terrified and weak I had become in his presence. Even more obvious was the fact that he was waiting for me to slither over to him and sign over the check to the B.O.A.S. "charity organization" which he created. In his own way, it felt as if this young black stud was telling me to sign over the check "at" his feet to add to my humiliation?!

My throat was as dry as an ashtray and I swallowed loudly at the thought of the humiliating task he was so firmly and non-verbally suggesting.

"Oh, my gawd! Why is he doing this to me?" I muttered inside.

"Maybe I can just take that check from under his sandal and then stand back up?" I thought.

I was beginning to feel such pressure. The seconds that went by during this short pause felt more like minutes as I contemplated what I should do next. In contrast, the much younger black stud simply stood there with a non chalant and commanding attitude. He knew that I was defeated as I cowered on my knees before him, and humiliatingly he was right.

Defeatedly, I leaned over onto my hands and knees and made a feeble attempt to slip the check from out and under his foot. But, he would not budge. His right foot actually pressed onto the back of this check with greater force while the perspiration on my face intensified.

"What cha' waiting for, boy? I don't got all night. Sign it. I gots to get my dick sucked before I go to bed!" He commanded.

"Y-Yes, O-Okay." I mumbled in disgrace.

With my hands trembling nearly out of control, I signed my name and the "pay to the order of" designation onto the back of the check, releasing the funds to the black man's organization. Despite the utter humiliation of sacrificing my entire investment back to the B.O.A.S. Organization, I felt that at least I still had a shot of having my beautiful blonde wife back. She was asleep in my bed and I just wanted to get back to her as quickly as possible.

As I cowered on my knees and elbows at the black stud's feet, I simply couldn't stop thinking about running back to Julie and begging her for another chance. I would do anything for that chance. I would do anything just to see her.

Ashamed, I completed the signing of the check and then dropped the black pen from my quivering hand. I simply put my head down in shame before I made another feeble attempt to slide the now signed check out from under Tra'mon's black sandal-covered foot. My purpose was merely to take the check and hand it to him, in defeat.

But, Tra'mon was still not allowing me to do this. I was perplexed for a moment as I made a second and third attempt to do so. Still, he was not removing his foot from the signed check. My face burned red as I remained in this inferior position wondering why he would not allow me to pick it up. That is when he spoke.

"First kiss my foot, whiteboy!" He suddenly ordered.

"Kiss the top of my nigger foot and thank me for allowing you to support black fitness!" Tra'mon commanded, his louder voice ringing in my ears like a siren.

My face turned a fire-engine red.

"Oh, Gosh! Please? P-Please, S-Sir? I-I just want to go home, Sir." I groveled.

"P-Please don't make m-me do that? P-P-Please?" I sniveled as I began to cry.

Accepting my defeat and turning over my full investment wasn't enough for the demanding young, black stud. He simply wanted to "rub it in" even more and disgrace me further beyond my limits. I could not fathom a more vile and unpleasant thing to do, with the exception of the way he made me kiss his backside all those other times.

"I'm getting impatient boy!" Tra'mon shouted.

"O-okay, Okay, Sir. Okay." I stuttered, conceding to the strong stud's ultra-degrading demand.

With unprecedented humiliation, I was made to bend over and kiss the top of the black stud's sandal clad foot. I did so quietly as I had forgotten his words.

"Again! Thank me, pussy!" He snarled.

For the second time, I bent my face down from my elbows and knees position and kissed the top of the black stud's right foot.

"Th-Thank you, Sir. Thank Y-you for allowing m-me to support your ch-charity." I blubbered in a soft whisper.

"Again!" he howled as he stood above me.

Again, I bent my face down and put my lips to the top of Tra'mon's bare right sandaled foot and kissed it in humiliation.

"Thank you f-f-for allowing m-me to support y-your charity, Sir." I mumbled.

Tears were now streaming down my pale red face in utter disgrace. I was afraid to look back up as the black man remained standing above me.

"The other one!" He snapped, referring to his other foot.

Humiliatingly, I knew I had no choice. In my weary and intimidated mind, I was already beyond the limits of human degradation and I bowed to kiss the top of the black stud's left foot.

"Th-Thank you for allowing me to, uh, h-help support your charity, S-Sir." I answered. obediently and ashamed.

"Again, Mutha'fucker!" he yelled.

Again, I humbled and debased myself by kissing the top of the black man's left foot for a second time.

"The otha' one!" he ripped, ordering me to repeat this demoralizing act to his right foot.

The young, muscular black stud went on to make me kiss the very tops of his masculine feet several dozen more times, switching from his left black foot to his right black foot, and then back again. I couldn't have been more ashamed by my own fear of his overly aggressive attitude and tone of voice. Tra'mon made me repeat several demoralizing "thank you's." He even made me thank the black race and he made me thank him for allowing me to help support the black race, too.

After nearly 10 minutes he removed his foot from the check and ordered me to hand it to him. I could hardly move. I was so devastated by the demeaning act I was just forced into that my arms weakened as I attempted to get up to my knees. Somehow, I did. Compliantly, I handed him the signed check in tears of my mortified disgrace.

Even more defeating was the fact that Tra'mon was now rock hard as I knelt there before him. The absolutely mammoth sized bulge in the pouch of his flimsy, skimpy almost liquid-looking black bikinis had "swelled" to almost unimaginable proportions.

The disgusting bulge "billowed" almost straight out to a point I had never seen before. The black stud's repulsive bulge was sickening for me to witness as I watched him begin to dial a number on his cell phone. He looked at me for a moment and "sneered" as his caller answered.

"My dick is hard!" He snapped, simply and authoritatively to the caller before rudely hanging up on her.

Then, Tra'mon turned back to me again.

"Respect! Dat's what it's all about whiteboy!" He snarled, turning his back to me. He began to strut out of the workout center room with superior confidence, his muscular and powerful black ass in those bikinis strolling slowly and with utter confidence.

I was ashamed, yet relieved by his departure. Meekly, I placed my hands to my pathetic face and cried. Part of me was relived that he didn't "beat me up" again. I was also so humiliated that I just knelt there weeping like a big pussy for the next 15 minutes or so.

It was hard to imagine how this young stud was demoralizing me, and never letting up on me. I feared him even more now. I feared his aggression and the manner in which he was always defeating and demoralizing me. He made me begin to fear his actions at all times. Then, I began to think about Julie again.

Finally, I got up from my knees and staggered out the door. My weak legs could barely make it up the stairs as I thought about the humiliation Tra'mon had just put me through. I looked around and realized that all the other white husbands had already scurried back to their condo apartments like frightened mouses.

But, maybe just seeing Julie would make me feel better? It was passed 2 in the morning when I finally entered my own condo apartment.

But, Julie was not there!

I looked around and was mortified that Julie was not sleeping in the bed now. She was passed out when I had left not much more than an hour before. I looked in the bathroom and scanned the entire apartment for her, but she was gone. That is when I noticed the written note taped onto the livingroom television.

"Had to talk to Trey. Be back in 30 minutes." the note read.

My heart fell and my shoulders slumped. It was now obvious to me that this black stud had called Julie and said those simple words, "My dick is hard!" It was my blonde wife that he was talking to?!

Julie simply scurried off to him in the most obedient fashion. It was at this time, the overwhelming defeats I had been experiencing these past months hit me even harder. I was confused as it seemed like Tra'mon was "toying" with my emotions. I had no clue of what to believe, and could not figure out whether Julie was back with me, or not?

"I will never be able to win her back." I thought to myself, in complete defeat.

"What should I do now?" I asked myself, sitting on the sofa and resting my head on my hand.

Within minutes, I heard Julie "keying" the front door of our apartment. My head sprang to an upwards position in surprise as I realized that she was back sooner than I had expected. In the dim lighting of our apartment I could see Julie's silhouette as she entered. She was not covered on top and only dressed in a pair of little white panties. Her long, now african-braided blonde hair looked like it was out of place and a mess beyond anything I had ever seen before.

"J-Julie? W-Where did you go?" I asked, pathetically.

I knew where she had went. For some reason, I just needed to ask anyway. Perhaps, I was merely trying to start up a conversation? I don't even know why.

"I wrote you a note. Trey needed to talk to me for a second." she answered softly.

As I finally stood all the way up from the sofa and moved closer to Julie I could see her trying to shy away and hide her face from me. Her braided hair looked so "mangled" in the shadows and I drew to within 15 feet of her when she told me to stop.

"Richard, stop! Please? I really just need to get some sleep. I need to sleep alone tonight." she said, her voice softening once again.

My eyes didn't have to strain very much in the dim lighting to see that Julie's pretty, pale face was absolutely "plastered" with an unrealistically thick coat of the black stud's seed. The large amount of his "cum" was revolting and startling to see. The sight of my beautiful white wife's face in this condition, and in the shadows of our condo hallway made my shoulders slump in further defeat.

"G-Gosh, J-Julie? D-Don't you want to shower before b-bed?" I asked, again just trying to make light conversation.

"No, Richard. I can't. Just sleep out here. Okay? Good night, Richard." Julie whispered.

"Wh-what do you mean you c-can't Julie?" I probed, terrified by her words.

"Richard, please? I'm tired. Just go to sleep. I mean it." Julie whispered louder.

"Well, o-Okay." I meekly replied as I watched Julie turn and walk towards the bedroom.

Pathetically, I just stood there in awe. It was ridiculously obvious that the young, black stud was now "seemingly" getting turned on by his total destruction of me. It seemed that the more he humiliated and disgraced me the more he wanted Julie? After demoralizing me, he simply picked up his cell phone and said the words, "my dick is hard" and my wife went running to him, obediently. It was like his words were so routine.

In the middle of the night, Julie went running to him to suck his massive black cock, only to get her face plastered with his seed. Now, she was going to sleep with her face coated and telling me to sleep on the couch. The feelings of insecurity and defeat continued to grow within me. Just when I thought things couldn't get any worse, and that I may have had a real chance of working my way back into Julie's life, Tra'mon was instilling more fear and confusion in me.

Humiliatingly, I returned to the sofa and layed my head down to fall asleep in shame once again.