Fifty Shades of Black

"I-I don't know. I've never had one." It was true, she hadn't, but that didn't mean she hadn't thought of them, hadn't become excited reading stories about them, hadn't jilled-off imagining them.

"So, you in the might like to try one phase?"

"I don't know...why are you asking all this?" Carol asked.

"Because," Caramel Carol answered, "I told you to do something and you haven't done it. Blaine takes offense when a mature woman, a woman who should know better, doesn't do as she's told."

"I think I want to leave," asserted Carol, suddenly eager to get home to her vibrators.

"That's not one of the choices," Caramel Carol growled. "You can either take it out now, or, get spanked then take it out. Those are your choices."

"Well, I'm not taking it out, that's for sure," Carol asserted, trying to sound authoritative.

Blaine was quick as a cat and strong as an bull. Carol was scooped up, spun around, and over Blaine's lap facing the floor before she realized it was happening. She tried to free herself but Blaine pinned her hands behind her back and Caramel Carol held her head. She felt her skirt being raised and her knickers lowered. The first slap sounded like a cannon blast echoing throughout the pub. The two employees at the bar jerked their heads in the direction of the booth.

A second smack, a second echo. The bartender dispatched the waitress to see what was going on. Swats three and four thundered as the waitress made her way to the booth. Even in the dim light, she could see the pink glow adorning Carol's bare buttocks.

"Is there something I can help you with?" the waitress asked.

"I think we have it under control," Caramel Carol smiled.

"Just keep it down," the waitress cautioned. Two more swats rang out as she made her way back to the bar. Then silence again.

Carol's head and hands were released. She was struggling, shifting her weight in preparation to rise when she felt another stinging slap, this time from a smaller hand.

"Hurry it the fuck up," Caramel Carol hissed. "Pull up your fucking panties for heavens sake. You'd better not be getting cunt slobber on his slacks."

"Too late," Blaine smirked, pointing at the wet stain decorating his crotch.

"She came?" Caramel Carol yelped.

"Looks that way," Blaine answered.

"Damn it, I knew it. She's such a fucking cunt," Caramel Carol continued.

It was true. Carol had known it immediately when it happened, of course. Now these two knew as well. Just when it seemed her humiliations could degrade her no further, something new, something even more debasing arrived to convince her otherwise.

She had been thoroughly embarrassed when Blaine barged into her changing booth. When she'd tried to cover her nakedness, the youth made her remove her hands. It wasn't all him. Carol was complicit as well. She'd stood by, seemingly powerless to do otherwise, as the black ogled her naked breasts. Except she wasn't powerless. She wanted him to look as much as he did. Maybe more. She just didn't want him to know.

When he felt her naked chest, she was proud that her nipple hardened. Her body was telling Blaine she like being controlled. In a way she wanted him to know that so he'd do more of it.

She'd felt him, too. And kissed him. The sexual forces in play were driving her insane. The tension was so tangible it could have been an item on the menu.She'll have another scoop of the sexual tension, please.

Now this. Climaxing just from getting spanked. Her wantonness despoiling a young man's clothing. She felt it happening. Each swat pushing her closer and closer to the orgasmic abyss. She knew her eruption was exceptionally messy. She felt herself explode passed her labia. Her panties could offer no barrier of containment. Those were around her ankles. And Blaine and Caramel Carol knew she'd cum too.

"How embarrassing," muttered Caramel Carol as she shook her head. "What a slut!"

Carol was now in desperate straits. Everything that should offend her deeply heightened her arousal instead. She'd just been spanked! On her bare bottom! In public! And she'd cum! Now she was being called a slut! To her face! By virtual kids! She knew her face was bright red but there was nothing she could do about it. The excitement was bewildering. Carol couldn't think straight.

"...the fuck? Is something wrong with her?" Caramel Carol continued, pronouncing the phrase with a silent "what" further confusing Carol. In her post-orgasmic haze, she felt her nipples harden again. So soon after cumming. What was to become of her?

"Sweetie...hello?" Caramel Carol mocked, snapping her fingers in front of Carol's face like a hypnotist bringing a subject out of a trance.

Carol's eyes began to focus. Was she in trouble? Again? Already? What had she done or not done now?

"Weren't you supposed to take something out?" asked Caramel Carol.

Carol suddenly realized that her hand had returned to Blaine's crotch. She felt the underlying cock twitch and her hand offered an involuntary squeeze of acknowledgement.

"Look," Blaine said, finally speaking, "I'll give you a pass this time because of your inebriated state, but please try to keep up. There will be no punishment for your failure, but just this once. In future, you won't be spanked...at least not until my slacks dry," Blaine said, but with a stern look rather than a smile. Future failures will cost you an item of clothing. Do you understand?"

Carol nodded. "Good," Blaine continued. "Now get your hand off my cock. Clearly you're not ready for that yet." Carol quickly removed her hand, placing it in her lap with the other one.

"Get it," Blaine ordered, turning to Caramel Carol and holding out his hand. Caramel Carol quickly rifled through her purse, pulled out an egg, and handed it to Blaine. It finally dawned on Carol that Blaine was the true leader of this duo. She'd figured he just went along with whatever Caramel Carol wanted so he could score some free pussy.

"Do you have one of these?" Blaine asked Carol, showing her the egg in the palm of his hand.

"I'm not sure," she answered. "What is it?"

"Being inane won't help your cause Carol," Blaine cautioned. "If you don't know what it is, what are the chances you'd have one? So when I asked if you had one, a simple "no" would have answered the question AND saved all of us time. Do you think you could do that Carol? Do you think you could stop wasting my time?"

"I'll try," Carol murmured, eyes fixed on the hands folded in her lap.

"Who are you, fucking Yoda?" Caramel Carol snapped, assuming the role of Blaine's enforcer, slapping the table so hard it frightened Carol. "He doesn't give a shit about you trying. He wants to hear "Yes Sir!" Got that? Is that too much to fucking ask?"

"She's new," Blaine said gently, touching Caramel Carol on the arm, assuming the role of Carol's protector. "That word will come when she's ready."

Blaine took Carol's hand and placed the egg in it. It was hard plastic, heavier than Carol had expected. Suddenly it buzzed, startling Carol. The vibration caused her to yank her hand away, dropping the egg shaped vibrator noisily to the table. Blaine scooped it up before it could roll off.

"I know you're new," Blaine began softly, like a parent about to scold a child, "but you're going to have to start owning your actions. If that had fallen to the floor, the repercussions for you would have been severe."

Carol's heart was pounding as Blaine took her hand and stroked it soothingly before placing the egg in it again. It buzzed again and Carol saw a smirking Caramel Carol holding the remote control.

"Front or back?" Blaine asked Carol.

"Pardon me?" Carol asked, perplexed yet again. These two were operating at a different level.

"He wants to know if you prefer to put it in the back door or the front," Caramel Carol said by way of explanation.

"You want to put that in me?" Carol gasped.

"And I was worried you wouldn't be a quick study," Caramel Carol mocked.

"That's not going in me," Carol said quickly, then covered her mouth with her hand when she remembered whom she was addressing.

"Skirt or blouse?" Blaine asked as Carol listened in horror.

"No, please," Carol begged when she understood what Blaine wanted. "It was a slip. I didn't realize what I was saying. I say things like that to my boyfriend all the time. Please...Sir." She offered Blaine a term of respect hoping to dissuade him from ordering her to strip.

"Skirt, blouse, or both?" Blaine asked again, adding a third choice to let Carol know the urgency that she answer lest Blaine add another, even less desirable selection to the menu.

"Blouse." Carol answered, but too quickly. "No, skirt!" Carol practically shouted when she realized she hadn't worn a bra.

"Take off her blouse," Blaine ordered Caramel Carol.

Carol bowed her head, closed her eyes, and waited. Soon enough, she felt Caramel Carol's fingers undoing the buttons of her blouse. Carol bit her lip as passion flared within her. She so both wanted this and didn't want it. Had she been more able to control herself, less aroused, she would have gotten up and walked out. Of that she was certain. But she wasn't in control. Blaine was. Had she ceded dominion over her body or had he taken it? At this point, did it really matter?

Carol found herself shrugging her shoulders, lifting her arms, helping Caramel Carol disrobe her. Finally, she was sitting, naked from the waist up, in a public establishment, enjoying the tension in her nipples and her clit. Even her puckered anus seemed prepared to kiss something or someone. Or have someone kiss it.

"And the skirt," Blaine added just as Carol had begun to relax and prepare herself for strangers viewing her humiliating nudity.

Carol felt compelled to stand while Caramel Carol lowered her zipper and unhooked her clasp. She felt her skirt as it floated down her legs to the floor. She had wanted badly to protest, to secure an acknowledgement at least, that what was being asked of her was unusual in the extreme.

Still, she understood Blaine's position. She had been behaving badly, disrespectfully even though his instructions had been clear. She was there voluntarily, had let him see her naked breasts, had let him fondle her, had let him spank her bare bottom. Most embarrassing of all, she had climaxed! From a spanking! She hadn't even known that was possible.

She had known then that he had taken sexual control of her. She had inklings before when she lowered her arms at his urging and exposed herself, and the other things she had permitted. Now she was certain. A fantasy was coming true. Not exactly as she'd imagined it as she lay in bed sliding a dildo in and out hungrily. Never in a pub, never with a someone so young, never with a black. Now, however, all those things were making the reality so much more exciting than the fantasy. And there she stood in nothing but a pair of bikini panties and bejeweled sandals.

"Look at me, Carol," Blaine's deep voice commanded. She complied. "Listen, we know you're not perfect," Blaine purred like a dozing cat, calming the pretty mum. "Sooner or later, you're going to fuck up again and lose those panties. Why not just drop them now? You won't have to spend half you time worrying you'll do something to lose them, knowing that, ironically, it would be the worry that caused me to force their removal earlier than you would have were you more worry free.

"Yes, you'll have an initial period of humiliation at being fully naked, but that will pass and you'll feel the better for it. You'll feel more relaxed, better able to enjoy, as best you can, what is to follow with one less indignity to endure."

She knew Blaine was right. As she pushed her knickers over her hips, she knew she had been literally talked right out of her panties. And, remarkably, she did feel better as she reveled in her nakedness.

"Sit down, Carol," Blaine ordered. "Now, don't you feel better?"

"A little I guess," she answered even though she was more nervous than she could ever remember. She and her boyfriend had been in that pub several times. She was known there by some. What if one of them stumbled upon her in her present state? How would she ever explain herself?

"Nervous? Blaine asked like some precocious psychic, continuing his line of questioning. She nodded her head. "Excited?" Carol nodded again.

"I can't hear you when you nod," Blaine said.

Carol panicked. He wouldn't make her confess her arousal aloud would he? It was one thing for her to find the situation made her wet, but another thing entirely for her to have to admit her arousal to the young couple. Even if they suspected her of getting hot over what was being done to her, they would only suspect. They wouldn't know. Unless she told them. Then they would know her secret for certain and she would know abject humiliation.

"I can't hear you," Blaine stated, impatiently tapping a riding crop against his leg. Where had that come from? Carol felt real fear.

"Yes," Carol whispered.

"Speak up," he commanded.

"Yes," she answered with greater volume.

"Yes what?"

"Yes Sir," Carol told him, misinterpreting Blaine's meaning.

"The sir is fine Carol but what are you saying yes to?"

"Yes that I'm excited."

"Why are you excited? What is exciting you?"

"You," Carol groaned at having to admit something so intimate to these strangers. "What you're saying to me. What you're making me say."

"Are you wet?" Blaine asked.

Oh god, please don't make me say it Carol prayed in the instant before telling Blaine she was.

"Show me," the black youth demanded.

"How?" she asked.

"Exactly how you imagine. Spread your legs, push your finger in, swirl it around, pull it out, and show it to me."

Carol closed her eyes to shut out her embarrassment as she fingered herself while Blaine and Caramel Carol watched. She held up her middle finger so they could observe to goo glistening on it.

"How does she taste?" Blaine asked Caramel Carol.

Before Carol could react, Caramel Carol had licked her lips lasciviously and slurped Carol's upheld digit into her mouth. Now it was Carol's turn to watch and feel the delicious sensations of the dusky young woman simulating giving Carol's finger a blowjob. The feeling was incredibly sexy as Carol felt the soft, slick, oral organ in Caramel Carol's mouth lick and tease her. Carol felt her knees separating as if a pair of invisible hands were pushing them apart.

"Not bad," Caramel Carol offered when she'd released Carol's sparkling clean digit, then licked her lips demonstratively again.

Carol felt herself blushing again as her young masters discussed her in ways that were almost undiscussable, at least not in the company, male or female, Carol usually kept. While she was the topic of conversation, it was being held as if she weren't even there.

"Now the egg," Blaine said, handing it to Carol.

She curled her fingers around it and felt its heft once again. This time she didn't drop it when Caramel Carol buzzed her.

"Would you prefer it in your cunt or your ass?" Blaine asked as nonchalantly as if they were discussing the weather.

"My pussy I guess," Carol answered like she were too delicate a flower to utter a word as harsh as cunt.

"You guess? Don't you know? Should I make the decision for you? You're going to lose my patience if I have to tell you everything," Blaine growled.

"No...no..." Carol said, her voice trailing off. "I want it in my pussy."

"Are you a slut, Carol?" Blaine asked, once again picking something out of the seeming blue.

Carol froze yet again. How many times had this young black stud caught her so off guard that her brain momentarily seized? She'd never been asked that before. Ever. The problem was she didn't know the answer to the question. Well, that wasn't exactly true. She wasn't a slut, but the bigger question was, would she become a slut if the occasion arose? That was the question she couldn't answer.

The best answer Carol could come up with was that she'd acted a little sluttily at times. She'd done some raunchy things like swallowing a man's spunk the first time she'd touched a cock. It had excited her so that now she greedily gulped down ejaculate nearly every time she offered her mouth for a man's climax. Did that make her a slut? Or, and she shivered even as she thought it, did tonguing a man's anus? Did that qualify her as a slut? Was there a difference between behaving in a slutty manner and being a slut? Fortunately, she didn't have to answer as Blaine asked a following question before she had a chance to answer the first one. Or at least it would have been fortunate had not the follow on been more troubling than the original.

"Do you want to be my slut, Carol?"

The second question made her shiver. It was much more difficult than the first because she knew its answer. Now that it had been asked, Carol realized she had known she would eagerly agree to be Blaine's slut if he asked ever since he pushed that curtain aside and entered that changing room.

While Carol screwed up the courage to tell Blaine she wanted to be his slut, he had, once again, moved on.

"I need another drink," he announced, moving his glass toward Carol.

Carol made a move to summon the waitress.

"No," Blaine said, lowering the hand Carol had raised, "you go get it."

Instantly, Carol's heart was in her throat. Prior to that day, she had never appeared naked before strangers. Well, there was that time at university, but that was only once, and alcohol had been involved. Did Blaine seriously expect her to walk across the room starkers and place his order? In truth, no. He expected more.

"Now, Carol," Blaine said sternly when she hesitated. And when she moved, he asked, "Aren't you forgetting something?"

Blaine again handed Carol the egg. She was, by then, resigned to inserting it. Eager actually. Now, on the brink of actual insertion, Carol was suddenly full of questions.

"Does the small end or large end go in first?"

"Entirely up to you," Blaine answered.

"Put it in sideways if you'd like," Caramel Carol added with a smirk.

Carol spread her legs and began sliding the egg up and down her channel, lubricating it. When it felt slick enough, she began pushing it in, little end first. She only had to back off twice before it was sucked inward and Carol felt her labia closing behind it.

"How far do I push it in?" she asked, her finger still in touch with the plastic.

"As far as you can," Caramel Carol told her.

"What if it gets stuck up there?" Carol wanted to know.

"It won't get stuck," Caramel Carol offered. "Between gravity and your natural flow, it will come out." She added, "Eventually" but by that time Carol had already pushed the egg a full finger's length in, out of reach, causing Carol to wonder if she might have to go home with the egg inside.

What if she were still doing her hen impression when she got home? What if her boyfriend wanted sex? What if he asked, "What's that, honey?" when he encountered the obstruction? "Oh nothing, just some vibrating egg some American kids put up there this afternoon. It'll come out...eventually." "Who did what?" "Well, I actually put it in but they wanted me to." Instinctively, Carol knew it was a conversation she didn't want to have. Carol also understood her penchant for engaging in ridiculous intra-cranial banter.

Carol took Blaine's glass and began the most humiliating journey of her life. Not only was she bare ass naked, but Caramel Carol kept buzzing the egg she bore.

"He'll have another Coke," Carol said like she wasn't standing nude, in a pub that wasn't designated as "clothing optional" harboring a vibrating egg.

The bartender and waitress had watched her approach but for some reason said nothing about Carol's state of undress. He filled the glass and was about to hand it to her when it hit him.