The Princess and The Black Waiter

He whispered,

"Open your legs slut; I know you hate your weakness but you need daddy's cock," and I did.

He licked each nipple then pressed fingers into me again. I felt his bare cock and he kissed my pussy, tasting me, plunging his tongue deep inside me, then using his fingers sliding in and out, taking me to my own heaven, then devouring me again making me feel emotions I always felt with him. Biting my lips like I always did, I was trying to hold back, but finally was moaning without shame, screaming out when he began squeezing my breasts, pinching and twisting my nipples. I reached my orgasm, totally spent from the intensity and he hadn't even fucked me yet. After he finished, I felt shock and shame at how my body had betrayed me again.

I didn't know of any way out of this situation and at the same time I wondered how he would feel in me the next time and the next time. I was ashamed of my feelings and hated myself for performing and how good I had become at satisfying him. I realized he had awakened a side of me which I did not want or had known even existed.

After breakfast he left me alone and I lay down exhausted on the bed, half sleeping. I thought and cried about my predicament.

I laid there with my legs spread wide, waiting, knowing Barron would be back and I had no illusions Wolfgang meant what he had said.

The decision was simple; I had to do what he wanted; be friendly and not be an arrogant bitch. When this was over I would start my life as I had planned, but how could I after everything that had happened to me in just two weeks?

I laid on my bed staring at the ceiling and felt myself tremble at the thought of having been his whore for the last two weeks, because now I was!

Now I would be forced to let a common black waiter in my bed, fuck and to satisfy his sexual appetite and to accept any terms for accessing my flesh! And access, he did......

But when I think back in retrospect, of course being a "decent" girl I had tried to resist during the first long night, but did I really?

Did I really have no choice in the matter; did I have no alternative than to accept what he wanted? Why did I dress the way he wanted, wearing no bra and silk blouses, seeing how strangers leered at my legs and breasts, seeing my hard nipples?

Did I really not want to show my body to strangers and not satisfy his sexual needs? Why did I fuck and suck him whenever he wanted?

I hated him the way he made me dress in ultra-short skirts and tight dresses showing my legs off when we walked into a restaurant on my high pumps, but knew not to protest anymore, but to satisfy him. In return he bought me pretty dresses and sexy lingerie. In hindsight that was also for his own enjoyment.

In the apartment I only dressed in black panties, stockings and suspenders, walking on high heels the way he wanted. I hated how he grabbed my hair and pushed me on my knees and holding my hair, told me to unzip him and take him in my hands. He would push his hard cock in my face. "Suck my dick bitch."

But he was right, I was his bitch; his sex bitch and I didn't hesitate anymore and licked him hungrily and took him fully into my mouth. I let him fuck my face and licked every drop of him. Afterwards I would suck him again to make him hard again so he could fuck me once more.

Sometimes when I protested he punished me by squeezing my breasts and twisting my long nipples. That made me go crazy with desire and scream, but most of the time I knew better than to resist when he touched my breasts and wanted me. I became resigned to my circumstance, ready to have sex whenever he touched my nipples like that.

Wolfgang was my first lover and the first man that treated me this way, who knew my weakness and made me burn. I knew I was no good then, a bad girl who needed to be punished and he made me scream without any shame each time, feeling both pain and pleasure. I exploded and if I am honest he recognized that need inside me, to be dominated, humiliated completely and made to submit to his beautiful manhood.

He understood all too well the effect his dirty words had while he pushed my legs apart and the words made me wet and I was unable to stop him; but what frightened me most of all was my inability to resist him when he touched me.

The memories are appalling how he possessed me and in return I wrapped my arms and legs around this obscene man as he used my young, firm helpless body for his pleasure. Why did I respond to his fat penis, wanting and meeting his thrusts, circling my hips around his cock; why did I open my mouth and kiss him back when he kissed and fucked me?

Why did I want him to suck my nipples and squeeze my breasts and pinch my nipples?

During these three weeks my life totally changed from being an innocent girl, a beautiful flower. I totally submitted my body to this animal. He made me get hooked on sex. I couldn't believe how good it felt to have his penis inside of me, my pussy muscles clutching him, circling my hips and it felt so good being aroused.

The worst humiliation was to be naked on my knees for black Barron and struggling to suck him, to swallow him and having my pretty face fucked by both of them.

But I had to, knowing I was Wolfgang's whore now.

At moments where I showed any resistance he reminded me of the nude pictures he had made and I had no alternative but to do what he demanded. I could not resist when he started to touch me and he did not care what I wanted; he just came into my bed and I could feel him and shook my shoulder and I automatically turned on my back opening my legs for him.

I did this whether it was in the middle of the night when he woke me up, or during breakfast or in the afternoon. He was obsessed with fucking me and I had nowhere else to go so I let him; I was no longer a cute, innocent virgin.

What could I do? There was no choice he was my new daddy as he said.

He bought me nice clothes but took away my innocence, using me roughly. My pride was destroyed and he made me a bad Indian girl that slept nude and was available for him anytime, even asking him to fuck her, telling him

"yes, Mangala is a slut, Mangala wants to be Wolfgang's whore."

He said he gave me what I needed. He was the first lover who treated me like this, the first lover who shared me, driving me crazy, moaning for it when his finger was caressing my clitoris. He fucked me hard, never stopping, never slowing and said those dirty words while he pushed my legs apart and made me wet, unable to stop him.

After he left I tried to reconcile my behaviour by believing I only acted this way because of the pictures. But I knew better. He had changed me forever and it made me afraid that I thought about sex more and more.

Sometimes during the night I would wake up from dreams of being fucked by different strangers and I would see the faces of Samuel and Barron, the black servants and feel a burning need for them. I would be so excited that I was unable to go back to sleep and I started to touch myself, teasing my long nipples which made me so horny I started to fantasize.

My fantasy was about how I am taken to a cheap strip club, being helpless and humiliated in a room full of very common men, older big men, construction workers, truck drivers or rough harbour workers. Some of the roughest are black.

Every night I am standing in front of them on my high heels and they turn on the lights and loud music is played. I look straight in the eyes of these common men, holding down my disgust and I feel my fear is being exhibited as much as my body. They insult me, their eyes roaming over my hot body.

I know what will happen and I am helpless as I do what they want. I move my hips in and out and downward and side to side to the sound of the music. I feel how my nipples are standing out hard and ready to be twisted and squeezed. Then I am ordered to strip my clothes so I slowly start to strip showing them my brown body until they can see my wet slit.

Afterwards I am taken to a dark room and different men approach me until many are standing around me. Someone grabs my breast roughly, squeezing it and making me scream. Others laugh and join in and tell me what I must do. I am on my knees and I open my lips and use my tongue wherever they direct me. My head is grabbed and one starts pushing his dick deep in my mouth, moving his hips, fucking my face roughly making me swallow him. Someone else replaces him as they continue. They push me on a dirty mattress and spread my legs and someone pushes his cock into my wet pussy. Someone else pushes his cock between my lips. I do anything, anything at all they want...

In bed I slowly start to move and I cannot control myself as I revel in my dirty fantasy. I feel like such a slut. I have started to love to caress myself, touching and feeling, lost in my fantasies. I cannot help myself anymore and am unable to stop, squeezing and twisting my nipples. I start to finger my pussy, loving the feeling between my legs as I squeeze my clitoris.

Sometimes during breakfast I would think back how Wolfgang fucked me and I realized how wet my silk panties become when Barron brought our breakfast. I even found myself thinking about the black waiter; did I really crave the attention of such common men.

I couldn't believe that I let this happen to me, this was not like me.

I who was conservative, quiet and reserved, now in a hotel room while the black room service servant watched me every day, me thinking over and over how I sucked Barron's black dick.

I wondered what I was becoming. I was mortified at what Wolfgang forced me to do. But was I really forced? I struggled with the thoughts of my arousal and having so many orgasms with him, acting like an oversexed whore and thanking him with my body for the pretty dresses he bought me.

But the truth is whether I want it or not I know I let it happen during these three weeks and I knew he was right, that it would happen again. But I do not wish to live like this.

The day he left I knew I had to stop, but could I?

I did not want to continue with another man, behaving the way Wolfgang had made me behave. I knew I had to straighten out my life and find my balance. I had to stop this behaviour immediately and behave in a proper way again, like the nice girl I am, not like a Randi.

But I was strong and determined not to let myself be swallowed into a world I do not belong in and after my experience with my German daddy I lived for two years in New York as a prim and proper young lady. My mother would have been proud of me, not sharing my bed with anyone until the day I married.

I dressed very properly, now preferring white blouses and decent skirts and modest heels.

Six months after those terrible three weeks I met my husband at Christies, at an auction.

Eighteen months later, after I got married I came under the influence of Sir Jerome, my husband's boss, who recognised my need, seeing in my eyes the same wantonness as Wolfgang had. I had no choice. The moment he met me and from the day I married he took me on a one way trip to my destiny.

I sometimes wonder just where everything went wrong. Was this when I met my German daddy Wolfgang or was it when I met Sir Jerome, my husband's boss.

Since then, I let it happen again and Sir in his kindness became my mentor, teaching me to embrace my sexuality and under his guidance I have become what I was destined to be. In the beginning, on my wedding day I tried in earnest to resist him, but then I let it happen again and I did not say NO.

Now I understand Sir is right; a woman like me is meant to serve, entertain and give pleasure to men and women. But how that happened is another story.

My friends have no idea how easy I am. Some of them would love nothing better but most men I can keep at a distance very easily and they admire me and respect me.

Their wives and girlfriends are jealous and anxious enough as it is about me.

But how I met Sir Jerome is another story...