Black Mistress Senta

Author: Michael O’Connor

Senta, my gorgeous black Mistress, stands behind me as I write this. She is wearing shiny black rubber thighs boots, with lethally spiked heels, and a matching miniature dress that fits her slender body like a glove. She rests her long, thin riding whip on my right shoulder. If a word of my story displeases her, my ass will suffer.

Outwardly, Senta and I are just another average middle-class couple. We are both in our early thirties. In public, Senta is a picture of the perfect wife, blindly devoted to her successful husband. But behind closed doors, I am her slave. Instead of a suit, I wear panties and an apron. While Senta lounges idly about the house, whip ever close to hand, I do the cooking and all the other menial domestic tasks. My work is always inspected afterwards. If she is dissatisfied, she will pull down my panties and thrash my ass the color of sunburn.

Spanking me is one of her pet pleasures. Whenever she feels the urge, she puts me over her knee, panties around my ankles and slaps me with her open palm until my buns are well and truly toasted. Afterwards, she sits back and spreads her thighs. Spanking me always excites her. She commands me to lick her pussy.

Burying my face between her silky thighs, I kiss the pouting lips of her shaven slit. She moans softly as I lap at her honey hole, slurping the generously flowing juices. I suck on the little hard-on of her clitoris, bringing her slowly to climax.

When she has been sated by my well-trained tongue, she pushes me away. Sometimes, she permits me to fuck her, but only after I have groveled for the privilege. If she is feeling nasty, she will send me to the bathroom, to relieve myself with my right hand.

I did not become Senta’s slave until after we were married. Before that, I was an unadventurous lover, happy to let her dictate our routine sex life.

On the first night of our Parisian honeymoon, we showered together. Seeing Senta’s dark skinned body, dripping wet under the gushing water, stoked my lust to fever pitch. I grabbed her, crushing my wet body against hers. I wanted to fuck her, right there in the shower. But she shocked me by pushing me away and telling me, in a shockingly stern voice, to wait until she was good and ready.

Ten minutes later, she called out for me to join her in the bedroom. When I arrived, I almost fainted with shock. My beautiful bride was dressed in stiletto-heeled shoes, white silk stockings, suspenders and a laced up red leather basque. In her right fist, she gripped a cat o’ nine tails.

“Kneel before your Mistress!” she snarled.

I obeyed instantly, stunned by her look and razor sharp tone.

“You may sniff my pussy,” she said. “But don’t you dare touch me, without my permission.”

As I raised my nose to her exposed treasure and inhaled her exotic musk, she seized a tuft of my hair.

“From this moment on, you are my slave,” she told me. “You never touch me without my permission, or demand anything from me. I’ve been thinking about this for a long time and I’ve decided I must take complete control over you, if you are ever to satisfy me as a lover. Any objections?”

Slave! I thought incredulously.

“No,” I replied, weakly.

“Kiss my feet,” she commanded. “Then, I may let you lick my pussy.”

I slipped off her right shoe and lovingly kissed the stockinged foot. I did the same with the left, stunned that this act of subservience was exciting me. Afterwards, Senta lay back on the bed and spread the folds of her mouthwatering pussy.

“Eat me, slave.”

Crouched between her thighs, I feasted like a hog on her hot, soaking hole. When she had had enough, she laid me on my back and guided my stiff cock into her slick canal. As she impaled herself on my full seven inches, she warned me to lie completely still and not cum until I was given permission.

I gripped the bedposts with both hands, willing myself not to thrust upwards. Stiletto heels digging into the sheets, fingernails painfully gouging my thighs, she rode my shaft hard and fast. I had never known her so turned on. She shrieked and cursed, her body straining against the tight basque. I tried valiantly, but could not stop the climax that boiled up inside me.

“I’m cumming!” I gasped.

She warned me to hold back, but it was too late. I blasted my load deep into her, my body quaking with the intensity of my release.

Senta was not pleased that I had disobeyed her. She picked the cat o’ nine tails up off the bed and squatted over my face, her legs spread wide. Semen foamed at her pussy lips.

“Lick your cum out of me,” she commanded.

I balked, disgusted by the idea.

“Do what I tell you, slave!” she snarled.

I felt the sting of the nine-tailed whip across my thighs. She repeated the command and lashed me again. It took a further four lashes to persuade me to plunge my tongue into her slash. The slimy cocktail of cum and love honey did not taste nearly as bad as I had feared.

As soon as we were back home, Senta let me know exactly what being her slave entailed. My role was that of domestic dogsbody, with no more rights than the toilet seat. I offered no argument. Self-respect was a sacrifice worth making for such a beautiful wife. But when she handed me my uniform of apron and panties, I exploded with indignation. No way was I going to dress like a maid!

Senta knocked me to the floor and sat on my chest.

“You are my slave,” she reminded me. “As such, your role is to obey, not to question.”

“But, Senta, darling………!” I began.

“You call me Mistress,” she snapped. “Or have you forgotten already?”

“Sorry, Mistress,” I whimpered.

“You will be, asshole, unless you put those things on and get to work,” she warned.

I put on my uniform and sulkingly submitted to my duties. It took me some time to realize that playing the role of maid was a peculiar turn-on. But even if I had despised it, I would not have rebelled and risked losing Senta.

For twelve blissful months, I served her selflessly – becoming the perfect servant and lover, devoted only to her pleasure. I could never have dreamed that being completely dominated by a woman could be such a joyful existence. Until I met Dawn, I never even glanced at another woman.

The tall and ravishingly attractive redhead was a friend of Senta’s. From the moment I was introduced to her at a party, I was hooked. The skintight white dress she was wearing left a large portion of her voluptuous breasts exposed and made it clear she was naked underneath.

Senta looked equally delicious, in a low cut pink silk number. But I could not concentrate on her. Every time her friend cast a flirtatious glance in my direction or passed a remark, I felt my temperature soar. More than once, I caught a knowing look in her brown eyes.

I knew I was in trouble, the instant we arrived home.

“You piece of shit!” Senta screamed. “You miserable fucking dog turd! You think I didn’t notice the way you were looking at Dawn tonight?”

“Mistress, I………………” I blurted.

“Shut up!” she snarled. “I’m not listening to your pathetic excuses. Bring me my whip, dog!”

When I had done as she commanded, she ordered me to strip down to the thin white lace panties I wore beneath my suit. She then handcuffed me to the bed and whipped my ass until it glowed through the fabric.

“Please forgive me, Mistress!” I sobbed, as she unlocked the handcuffs. “I’ll never look at another woman again, I swear. I want nothing but to serve you.”

But my Mistress was not in a forgiving mood.

“From now on, you sleep in the spare bedroom,” she told me, icily. “And you’d better not forget my breakfast in the morning. Six-thirty – sharp!”

That was the beginning of the most miserable fortnight of my life. I was not once allowed to touch my beloved Senta or share her bed, no matter how much I begged for forgiveness. My already heavy quota of domestic chores was doubled and my ass severely thrashed at least once a day.

Then, one evening, Senta announced that we were having a guest for dinner. I was given a clean new apron and pink silk panties and told to create a culinary masterpiece. She did not tell me who our guest was and I did not dare ask.

When she announced that I would be serving dinner, and in my uniform, I was horrified. The last thing I wanted was an outsider knowing of my slavery. Senta responded to my protests by whipping my ass and attaching heavy steel clamps to my nipples.

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