She looked beautiful. The white crop top hung off her square shoulders and exposed a small band of flat midriff before her high waisted, dark blue jeans carried on, accentuating the curve of her hip and the shape of her bottom. White Nike trainers, expensive and new. Most of this was a memory as she was sat across the table from me, her mischievous smile on her full red lips and her brown eyes teasing me as they looked me up and down. Her straightened hair was cut in layers to her shoulders, swept back over her left ear to expose the expensive gold stud that had been in a jewellers just a couple of hours before.
Between us was the table of the corner seat, she sat on one side, me on the other. The remains of our meal were there, at least what the waitress had yet to clear: a half-eaten bowl of nachos and the glass of iced lemonade that she had ordered. My drink was gone.
Does the former prostitute return to her boring life - or start a new one with the rubber fetishist from her past?
“So, you’ll do anything for me?” she asked me casually.
“Pretty much,” I replied.
Her eyebrow flickered and her smile widened. I knew the look and my heart started pounding.
“OK, Casper,” she said, “time to humiliate yourself for me.”
The racial slur was said so casually, yet its impact was profound. I was transported to the place where she was my superior and I was the inferior.
“Yes, Goddess,” I answered.
“Take your tiny white cock out and start tugging it. Hurry up, whitey.”
My hands dived beneath the table and tugged at the buttons on my fly. I reached inside and took hold of my maggot. It was soft and limp, unwilling to show signs of life. I faced the brown and terracotta wall, unable to see who was nearby or whether people were watching.
“Come on, white boy, get that dick hard for me.”
I was massaging it, trying to be as discreet as I could. Stubbornly it refused to move.
She learnt forward, a hand supporting her chin and her eyes mocking me as they looked down into my lap.
“What’s up, Casper?” she asked me softly. “Doesn’t your tiny little dick want to get hard? Is it scared Goddess will disapprove of how small and shrivelled it is even when it’s erect? Is it scared Goddess will compare it to all those beautiful big black cocks she gets to use?”
Her words cut deep. I felt shame. I felt inadequate. My cock, so satisfying to the women I’d slept with before her, wasn’t good enough. It was too small. It was cut. It was incapable of pleasing her.
It started to grow.
It tried to become larger, to be the cock she wanted. I could feel it in my hand hardening, but not once did I look down at it. My eyes were locked onto her cruel brown eyes as she watched me so intently it hurt.
She was everything now. Whether the people in the restaurant or the waitress knew what I was doing was irrelevant. I had to please the Beautiful Black Goddess sat across from me. The superior woman who commanded my every action. The amazing creature who reminded me every day that I was white and male and that made me inferior to her in every single way.
Gently she leant back, still watching me, still smiling.
“You enjoying jerking off in a restaurant, Casper?”
“Yes, Goddess,” I said.
Our voices were low. Low enough, I hoped, that the background music and the general noise would cover them.
“You enjoying being my white bitch and doing whatever the fuck I want?”
She laughed, throwing her head back and, no doubt, drawing some attention. I felt my cock twitch. Maybe it was the start of orgasm.
“You want to cum, don’t you?”
I nodded. An eyebrow shot up.
“Yes, Goddess,” I said, leaning forward. “Please may I cum?”
She laughed again.
“Not until you ask nicely.”
It was starting to happen. I could feel it building up inside me and I didn’t know if I could stop it. But I had to. I had to show Goddess what a good slave I was.
“Please, beautiful Goddess,” I said, leaning forward. “Please may I be allowed to cum?”
“Why?” she demanded.
“Because I’m a pathetic white male who exists only to be humiliated by you, Goddess.”
As the words left my lips I knew they were true. I was pathetic. I was masturbating in a restaurant to please her, not me. The consequences of discovery would be terrifying for me, devastating even, and yet still I tugged away on my small white cock because that was what she wanted.
“On five,” she told me. “And you know what to do with it.”
“Yes, Goddess,” I said as calmly as I could.
“Five,” she said.
I started to prepare myself. My left hand remained on my cock, now doing little more than maintaining the excitement. My right moved down and in front of it, ready to catch my cum.
My eyes fixed on hers, struggling to stay focused as orgasm approached.
The way the word left her mouth drove me wild. The small flick of the tongue; the pout; the smile that lingered behind.
There was a longer pause. It hurt.
“Ready, Casper?” she asked me.
“Yes, Goddess,” I said and nodded a little too eagerly.
“One,” she said slowly. “Cum.”
My technique was carefully practiced. As orgasm came I held the head firmly, stopping it from flowing out and building up a reservoir behind the dam. As it subsided I gently released the pressure and my semen seeped slowly into my cupped hand. With some care I was able to catch all of it.
And then I raised my hand up and lowered my head, the two meeting just above the table. I slurped at my own cum, sucking up the salty mess and holding it in my mouth to show Goddess. She nodded approvingly and I swallowed, then set about licking my hand and fingers clean. She watched me with an amused grin and when I was done and sunk back into my seat she nodded her head approvingly.
“You like that, Casper?” she asked.
“Yes, Goddess,” I replied.
She lifted her glass and finished the lemonade.
“Guess now you’re drained this afternoon’s gonna be a lot easier for you,” she mused. “Seeing as I haven’t finished with you yet, white loser bitch.”
My head hung in shame.
“Better pay the bill, hadn’t you. And don’t forget to button up.”
I looked down at my shrivelled, weeping cock hanging out of my jeans. I tucked it away before the waitress arrived.