Spartacus II

Pushing me onto the desk, face down, he slid his fingers until they trapped my clit, and he began to rub me as he traced between my pussy and ass with his muscular tongue. He dipped into my pussy, and lapped at me like a treat, before coming up for air, slapping my ass hard enough to leave a bright handprint.

"Goddamn that is some sweet pussy, but I told you, I am going to own that fine white ass of yours today, and now I am going to teach you how" without another word, he dove in between my ass cheeks and began to French kiss my bum.

I was losing my mind. His tongue was deep inside me, dancing, probing, thrusting. I had never had anything in my ass, and the sensations were unfamiliar, and I felt a strange tension beginning to build behind my belly button.

Working my clit as he frenched my tight pink ass, Henry began to work in a finger, long, hard, and thick almost as my husbands cock, he began to thrust his finger into me as he fingered my clit. As he did he instructed me, taught me, trained me as his whore.

"I said I was going to own your white ass, and I meant it. You are going to beg me to fuck your ass, and you are going to swear that your ass belongs only to me, no other man will ever use it. I will rent out that over privileged white mouth, I will rent out those fine white titties, and I will sell that tight pink pussy to any damn man or woman with the cash to pay my bills, but your ass is my own personal property, and no man but me will ever touch it, do you get me bitch?" he barked at me.

He had three fingers in my ass at this point, and while my training in feminism, my Christian upbringing, and my own morality should have been raging against the idea of being reduced to an object for him to sell, that is not what I felt.

Love, devotion, gratitude. He cared for me! Under all the rage, under all the hurt, even if he was going to fight the system that turned him into nothing more than a piece of meat, a gladiator fit only to fight for the entertainment of powerful men who would use and discard him like garbage, even after all of that, he treasured me personally.

He would exploit my body, as his was exploited. He would profit from my objectified beauty, as they profited from his objectified strength. He would sell my mouth, my body, my pussy to any man or woman he wanted, and I would do it because he told me to. He would not sell my ass. My ass would be for him alone. I came.

I screamed as I came. Again and again I screamed, "Please fuck my ass, please own my ass, own my married white ass, make my ass yours. I am your slut, your whore, your slave!"

He was gentle, in his own brutal way. He pushed the head in with a shocking thrust. I felt like I was being split in half. I tensed up, I was going to tear like tissue paper!!

He stopped, pressed his body against me, kissed my neck gently, nibbled my earlobe, whispered to me.

"Shhhh, baby, shhh. Its my power, its too much for you to fight. If you fight, you will get hurt. Nature is telling you that you can't win, you get punished for resisting, you need to surrender. Surrender to my cock, surrender to my ownership, surrender to my discipline. Give up the dream of being my teacher, being my superior or equal. Accept you are my property, my whore. Be my whore, be my slave. Let go all those things that you are not and take my black power into your white ass and accept me as your master," his words struck me deeply.

He was still, stroking my hair, my flanks, like calming a skittish horse, and all the time his hard, black cock burned inside me like a branding iron. I calmed, I relaxed, and he began to rock into me. Each rock brought a little more in. He got maybe three inches into me as the pain and pleasure washed against each other, but once the flare behind the tip reached that point something gave inside me, and resistance collapsed. He began to stroke.

I felt something shockingly cold pour into my ass crack, as he poured lube onto the join between us. He began to thrust into me. I had trouble breathing, it was like each thrust shocked my insides, but there was a real power building up in me, a different kind of pleasure than vaginal sex, slower, deeper inside somehow.

I began to thrust back against him.

He pulled on my long French braid like the bridal on a horse and began to slap my ass, shouting "Yee haw, going to break in my new white pony, brand that fine white ass, and train it proper. Going to make first string in this stable if you keep being a sweet ride like this!"

I could see where he set his phone up would catch us in profile and he was playing to the camera, making my big tits bounce with every thrust, but he was fucking me like I had never been fucked before.

He used his spanking to keep me from cumming too soon, to distract me. When I was going to cum anyway, he reached out and grabbed both my nipples and pinched hard, the pain shocking me enough that between his stillness, and the nipple pain, he could hold off my orgasm no matter how much I tried to impale myself on him, until he was ready to thrust again.

He was teaching me, training me, breaking me. It worked. I was not his lover, I was not his equal. I was his slave, his property. My pleasure was his to give or withhold. My body was not my own, my body was his. My pleasure was not my own. It was his. I was not my own. I was his. I accepted the truth, and I shouted it.

"My ass is yours, my ass is yours. I am your Whore, I swear it, I swear I am your whore! Please god sir, please own my ass!"

With a roar he began to pound me, great brutal thrusts that drove all sense from me, all restraint from me. I came, but he did not stop fucking me. I felt the spasm start behind my belly button, but it was so strong that it bend my body like a long bow. My knees came off the floor, my head and shoulders drew down until my body formed a C shape. I could not breathe, I was so tight, I couldn't move. His hard cock was clamped against the full strength of my body, but it forced its way in and out like a spear through helpless flesh, mastering me, owning me, breaking me.

I came, thrashing like an epileptic. I thought I peed myself, as hot honey shot from my pussy like a fine spray, pulse after pulse in time with the spasms rocking my body, one for each thrust as my owner filled my married white ass with the hot potent seed of the finest black gladiator.

He pressed against me, cupping my breasts as he kissed my neck and I felt our twin heartbeats as my little birdlike flutter matched against the triphammer potency of his own as we came slowly down together.

He allowed me to slip to the ground as he stepped back.

I looked him in the eye and crawled to his feet. Looking in the eye, I asked him truthfully;

"Sir, may I be your whore?" I waited, tears standing in my eyes, afraid now that the final humiliation would be that he was done with me, and wouldn't even take me on as his whore. When he smiled, my heart almost exploded with joy. He nodded and glanced down at his cock, covered in lube, cum, and...well my ass.

Smiling, I cupped his balls in my left hand, his shaft in my right, and took him into my mouth to clean him like a good whore should. Beside my face he made the V sign for his watching camera phone. Vie Victus, woe to the fallen. Spartacus lives. And I am his.

Special thanks to Literotica Editor Tahrima Begum for helping this get into its final workable form.