textfiles/sex/EROTICA/M/myblamis.txt

Archive-name: Amazon/myblamis.txt
Archive-author: 
Archive-title: My Black Mistress


     I first met Amalie at a party at a friend's house, and was
immediately struck by her height and beauty.  She was standing
alone at the far end of the room, the only black girl at the party,
and she was obviously not having a good time, so I went over to her
to begin a conversation.  I'm a slender 5'9" in my built up shoes,
and even in her flat heeled pumps, at an even six feet, she towered
a good three inches over me, but she was so lovely and feminine I
hardly noticed the difference in our height.  Light skinned and
with wide, high cheek bones, she had strong, even features framed
in naturally kinky hair coffered in a large afro, and the long,
slender column of her throat curved gracefully down into wide
shoulders and a slim figure that you couldn't help but want to put
your arms around.  On top of that, she was so cultured and charming
that before I realized it I was suggesting that we leave the party
to go somewhere else and get to know each other better.  She
readily agreed, and we spent the next few hours exploring each
other in a small, intimate cocktail lounge, after which I drove her
home.
     My first look at her house came as something of a shock.  She
owned half of a duplex on the edge of the black section of the
north side, on the side of a hill a good six or seven stories above
the street.  The only access was a cement stairway that rose
steeply up from the sidewalk to the front stoop.  I took one look,
knew I'd never make it and said so.  She laughed and said, "Then I
guess we'll have to say goodnight from here," and bent her head to
kiss me warmly on the lips.  I put my arms around her waist to
return her kiss with equal fervor, and was immediately surprised at
the hardness of her slender body.  It was almost like holding a
warm statue; there wasn't an ounce of fat or softness around her
waist.  When I commented on it, she laughed and said, "After all,
I have to stay in shape just to climb those steps."
     We saw each other regularly after that, and each night we
would say our goodnights on the sidewalk.  Finally, one Friday
evening, after several months, I was stretching up for our
goodnight kiss when she said, "I think it's time we got a little
further along, don't you?" and then, before I realized what was
happening, put her long, slim arms around my waist and shoulders
and pulled me against her, mashing my body to hers so tightly that
I could barely breathe.  I gasped as I was bent backward and her
open mouth descended to capture mine in a crushing french kiss
that, had it not been for her supporting arm behind my neck, would
have torn my head right off my shoulders.  Instinctively I started
to struggle, pushing against her with my hands as hard as I could,
but her arms were like steel bands around me, and I couldn't budge
her.  Even worse, she hardly seemed to notice my efforts at
resistance until finally, as the world was starting to spin around
me for lack of air, she relaxed her grip on me, and I collapsed
against her, gulping oxygen into my tortured lungs.
     Holding me upright at arm's length, she said quietly, "You
know, baby, I'm starting to get serious about you.  I might even
marry you, if you measure up.  In any case, it's time to find out
if you're the kind of man I think you are.  So get ready for some
surprises, baby.  I'm taking you up to my house."
     Gripping my right wrist in her slender left hand, she pulled
me forward and stooped to wrap her other arm around my thighs. 
Then she straightened, lifting me bodily off the sidewalk and
draping me over her right shoulder like a sack of laundry.  Quickly
the hand holding my right wrist guided my hand and arm around her
back and under her armpit where she could grip my wrist with the
hand that also imprisoned my legs.
     I gasped, "Amalie!  What are you doing?  Put me down!" and
again tried to struggle.  But I was helpless as, with a low
chuckle, she carried me easily up the long flight of steps to her
front door, unlocked it with her free hand, and carried me inside. 
And to my amazement, she wasn't even breathing hard from the
effort!
     "Now I'll put you down, baby," she laughed, and with a casual
shrug of her shoulders tossed me off her shoulder to land flat on
my back on the floor of her living room several feet away, knocking
the wind out of me.  While I lay gasping for breath, she casually
locked the front door, shrugged off her coat and walked over to
straddle my chest with her long, slimly muscular legs.  When she
thought I had sufficiently recovered by breath, she suddenly turned
so that she was facing my feet and sat down on my chest, shifting
her weight backward and covering my upturned face with her slim,
hard derriere with such force that I was literally trapped between
her buttocks and my air was all but completely shut off again.  As
I tried to mouth muffled protests I felt my ankles being seized in
a steel grip, and my shoes and socks removed.  Realizing what she
was doing, I redoubled my efforts at resistance, but to no avail as
she casually unbuckled my belt, unzipped my fly and removed my
trousers, and then my shorts, leaving me naked from the waist down.
     Rising, she turned and quickly seated herself on my stomach. 
Imprisoning both my wrists in one slim, long fingered hand, she
undid my tie and unbuttoned and removed my shirt, and then my
undershirt.  Then she leaned back on my stomach and, crossing her
arms over her bosom, gazed down at me speculatively.
     "Amalie!" I was finally able to stammer. "What in hell are you
doing to me?"
     She laughed lightly.  "Why, I thought it was obvious to you,
baby," she replied.  "I picked you up and carried you up here,
tossed you on the floor and undressed you."  She paused to let that
sink in and then continued.  "I'll spell it out for you, baby.  I
told you down on the street that I was getting interested in you,
and I want to see what kind of a man you are.  Well, now we're
going to find out.  You see, lover, if we're going to have any kind
of a long term relationship, there's one thing we have to get
straight right off the bat, and that's that I'm the boss!  More
than that, I'm gonna own you!  You're gonna be my slave, my little
playtoy and love doll, to be used any way I see fit.  Why?  Because
I'm a woman, a black woman who is taller, stronger and smarter than
you, and you're nothing but a poor, inferior white man!  I'm
superior to you in every way, and therefore you're gonna be subject
to me in every way.  Got the picture?"
     My head reeled in disbelief from her words, and I twisted
desperately under the surprising weight of her slim body. 
"Amalie!" I protested.  "This is crazy!  Let me up!"
     "Sure, baby," she chuckled and rose off me.  Then, bending
down, she slid her hands around my waist and, in a display of
physical strength that was incredible for such a slender, lovely,
feminine woman, lifted me bodily off the floor to set me on my feet
in front of her.
     Without my built up shoes, she now loomed over five inches
above me.  My eyes barely reached to her chin, and suddenly she
seemed somehow bigger, more powerful, and more menacing.  As I
gaped up at her, frantically trying to cover my privates with my
hands, she put her fists on her hips and gave a low laugh.  "Oho! 
I thought there was less to you than met the eye!  It would seem
that you've been wearing elevator shoes all this time.  Well, never
mind, honey.  I'm going to throw them away 'cause I like you better
without them.  You might as well get used to looking way up at me,
'cause by the time I'm finished with you you're going to look up to
me in every way!  Now, let's inspect that little body of yours to
see if you measure up to my standards!"
     Before I could resist, she seized me around the waist again
and, without any display of effort, lifted me off the floor to hold
me at arm's length while she ran her eyes over my naked body. 
Forcing my hands away from my crotch by simply spreading her arms,
she licked her lips with anticipation.  "Mmmmm," she murmured. 
"Nice.  Soft and white, big enough in the right places, and no body
hair...very nice, indeed."  She turned me in her hands until my
back was to her and tilted me to one side so that she could hold my
weight in one hand while she ran her other hand over my bare
buttocks.  "Cute little buns, too," she added.  "I'll have some use
for those later.  For now, I think you'll do just fine."
     Setting me back down on the floor in front of her, she put her
hands on my shoulders, her long fingers extending behind my neck,
and said, "Time for me to change and begin your training, baby.  I
suppose I'll have to put you on ice for a few minutes to keep you
from trying to run away--as scared as you are, I think you might
even try to get out of here without any clothes on!"
     Up to this point I had been too amazed at the ease with which
she had handled my weight to even try to struggle or protest. But
now I straightened and raised one hand to shake a forefinger at
her.  "Amalie," I snapped, "this has gone quite far enough!  I--!" 
That was as far as I got.  Her fingers pressed down on the back of
my neck, and almost immediately I went numb from the neck down.  I
could open my mouth, but my vocal cords were frozen and I couldn't
speak.  I could only gape up at her in helpless terror as she
gripped me to keep me from falling and the picked me up in her arms
and carried me over to the divan to lay me down on my back and
arrange my lifeless arms and legs on the soft cushions.
     "Don't worry, baby," she reassured me, patting my cheek.  "The
numbness is only temporary.  In a few minutes you'll start to get
your feeling back and, although it will be uncomfortable at first,
pretty soon you'll be as good as new.  Be back in a sec.  Don't run
away!"  With a chuckle, she disappeared into the bedroom.
     My head reeling, I tried to consider my predicament.  Although
my body and voice were paralyzed, my brain was still functioning
after a fashion.  Despite what she had done to me, I still found it
impossible to believe that I had been so easily overpowered by such
a slender, lovely, feminine, young woman.  She couldn't possibly be
as strong as she seemed, notwithstanding what she had done to me. 
It had to be some kind of trick.  Maybe she knew some kind of
martial art that enabled her to use leverage to make it appear that
she was stronger than I.  After all, I was a grown man!  No girl,
and certainly no girl as slender as she was, could be as strong as
she seemed to be!  As soon as feeling returned to my body, I would
take matters in hand and settle this thing between us.
     Feeling did start to return, and Amalie had been right.  It
started as a prickling sensation in the tips of my fingers and
toes, and gradually increased in intensity and spread until it felt
as though someone was sticking needles in every inch of my body. 
I tried to cry out, but my voice was still partially paralyzed and
I could only croak incoherently.  At that point Amalie returned
wearing a brief halter, a short skirt that barely covered her
womanhood and high heeled boots that had to be at least five inches
in height.  She came over to sit down on the divan and run a hand
over my chest and stomach, and then down between my thighs to
fondle me intimately.  "Starting to feel better, baby?" she asked
with a grin.
     I couldn't answer her, and could only lay there and suffer the
indignity that she was inflicting on me until I could move again. 
I endured the pain as best I could, and even when I felt that my
arms and legs were functional I lay motionless, waiting until I was
fully recovered before making my move.  But she saw through the
ruse, and after several minutes gripped my wrists and pulled me off
the divan to my feet.
     "Don't try to play possum with me, baby," she warned me.  "I
know how long it takes for the feeling to come back."
     I stood up as straight as I could and glared up at her lovely
face, now almost a foot above my own.  "All right, Amalie," I
retorted, "let's understand each other right now!  I don't know
what you're trying to do to me, but it won't work.  I'm getting
dressed and I'm leaving here right now!"
     She pursed her lips.  "Really?  And how do you propose to do
that?"
     I looked around for my clothes.  They were gone.  "All right,"
I snarled.  "Where are they?"
     "I put them away.  You won't be needing them for a while."
     "Dammit!"  My voice was tight from the helpless fury I felt. 
"I want those clothes.  Now, tell me where they are or I'll... I'l-
l..."
     She grinned.  "You'll what?"
     I gritted my teeth.  "Amalie," I said hoarsely, "I've never
hit a woman in my life, but so help me..."
     Her grin widened, and she said, "I wouldn't advise you to try
to hit this woman, baby.  Have you forgotten already how easily I
handled you a few minutes ago?  I could break you in two if I
wanted.  You're like a child compared to me.  I can do anything
with your soft, little body I want to."
     "Oh?" I snarled.  "Well, we'll see about that!"  And with
that, I swung a roundhouse right straight up at her jaw.
     Her left hand came up sharply and caught my fist in midswing,
stopping it so abruptly I was jarred to my toes.  Instantly, her
long fingers closed over my fist and tightened, crushing my coiled
fingers into my palm.  My fury turned to sudden fear as I tried to
yank my hand away, but her grip was too tight, and then agonizing
pain from the pressure of her fingers went coursing down my arm to
my shoulder.  In desperation, I grabbed at her fingers with my free
hand, trying vainly to dislodge them, but they were like steel
bands slowly crushing my fist into a useless ball.  I looked up at
her pleadingly as, a smile decorating her lovely face and her free
hand resting casually on her hip, she gazed down at me with amused
contempt.  "I warned you," she said simply and tightened her grip
on my fist even more, simultaneously bending it backward and down
so that slowly, inexorably I was forced to my knees in front of
her.
     "Now, baby," she said softly, "you're where you belong,
kneeling before me, worshipping at my feet, paying homage to the
woman who before this night is over will own you, body and soul. 
Now is when your training starts, baby.  And I will start by
teaching you what it will cost you every time you try to rebel
against my authority.  For your first lesson, you will get a taste
of my feminine superiority by giving me the 'kiss of submission'."
     I barely heard her words.  I was writhing in agony from her
grip on my fist and the way she had my arm bent back over my
shoulder, and my head was swimming.  Dimly I was aware that she had
stepped forward, straddling my body with her long slim legs, and
then her free hand gripped my hair and forced my head back so that
I was looking up under her short skirt into the kinky bush of her
womanhood.  I gasped as, through the pain, I realized what she was
about to make me do, and inwardly I cringed, my stomach curdling at
the thought.  Suddenly the pressure on my fist was released and my
hand freed to drop and hang lifelessly at my side, my entire arm
numbed from the pain she had inflicted on it, and she was moving
forward again, this time to lock her thighs around my neck and
force me backward and off balance.  I felt a sharp pain in both my
ankles and realized that she had trapped them between the heel and
instep of her high heeled boots.  I was completely helpless as my
face, with my head now held in both her hands, was slowly and
inexorably forced up into her bush.
     The next several minutes were sickening, as she vigorously
massaged herself with my face, ramming my nose and mouth into the
suddenly swollen lips of her womanhood.  I could hear her gasp and
moan with pleasure, and then the womansmell of her desire enveloped
me.  I tried to raise my useless right hand to resist, but the
prickling sensations in my arm told me it was only just  beginning
to come back to life.  My left arm was wrapped around her right
thigh, straining vainly to relieve the pressure on my neck, but she
ignored it and continued her ritual masturbation with my face.  I
was struggling to breathe.  My nose was completely blocked, and I
dared not open my mouth, for her juices were beginning to flow as
she reached one plateau of pleasure after another in her ascent to
her final orgasm, and only by tucking my lower lip up into the roof
of my mouth and sucking air in under my upper teeth was I able to
breathe at all and still keep her juices out of my mouth.  And then
her entire body erupted in a writhing explosion of ecstacy that
threatened to twist my neck off my shoulders, and my face was
flooded with sticky goo.  Dimly I heard a moan that rose in pitch
to become a scream of delight as she reached her climax and then
stepped away to let me collapse in a heap on the floor.
     Instinctively I rolled over on my stomach, nauseous from the
ordeal and trying to wipe her juices off my face on the heavy
carpet.  Then I felt a hand take my shoulder, and I was forced over
onto my back, and a damp towel gently wiped my face clean.  I
opened my eyes to see her take both my wrists and force them
together behind my head, where she could secure them in the grip of
a single hand, and then her other hand was sliding under the small
of my back.  I still have trouble believing what happened next.  I
felt the pressure of her hand under my back suddenly increase, and
then I was being lifted bodily off the floor as, with a single,
fluid motion she stood up to raise me and hold me with her single
arm fully extended, high over her head, my face inches from the
high ceiling, both my wrists still imprisoned in her single hand
for balance. 
     "Ta da!" she proclaimed. "To the victor belongs the spoils. 
And you, baby are the spoils.  Now that you've learned how I take
pleasure from puny little men who think they can resist me, it's
time for your second lesson--a little demonstration of the kind of
punishment you'll get every time you get out of line!"
     Still holding me high over her head, she carried me across the
room to a stool and sat down on it, lowering me slowly until I was
lying across her thighs.  Then I felt her hands around my waist and
I was being lifted again and turned over to lie face down over one
thigh while the other locked my own legs firmly in place.  Again my
wrists were gripped by a single hand, and my hands forced backward
over my head.  Only then did I realize what she was going to do to
me.  She was going to spank me!  A grown man, she was going to
spank my bottom like I was a naughty child!
     "Amalie!" I gasped.  "No!  Not that!  You can't do that to
me!"
     She chuckled.  "I can't?  Who's gonna stop me?  Not you,
certainly."
     Her hand came down across my bare buttocks with a force that
sent searing pain shooting through my body.  I screamed and writhed
furiously to escape the vise of her grip, but my thighs were locked
between hers and my wrists imprisoned behind my neck, and I was
helpless.  Again and again her hand descended on my unprotected
bottom, and with each blow my body was enveloped in a mind numbing
agony until my head was reeling and I could only lay limply across
her lap, sobbing uncontrollably.  Only then did she stop.  I felt
her hands around my waist, lifting me and turning me over on her
lap, and then her arms slid underneath me, and she stood up,
lifting me with her and cradling me in her arms like a small child
as my body shook with unrestrained grief.  Then she began to rock
me gently in her arms, cooing to me as if I were a baby.
     "Did the big, strong man get his bottom spanked like the
naughty boy he really is?  And by a girl, besides!  Did that mean,
ol' Amalie make her big, strong man cry?  What a poor, helpless,
li'l baby you are!  There, there, li'l baby, snuggle up to Amalie,
rest your li'l head on Amalie's shoulder and cry your pore, li'l
heart out, baby, while Amalie rocks you and makes your soft, while
li'l bottom all better.  Don't you like being cuddled in Amalie's
arms?  Sure, you do!  I'll bet you never realized before that a
girl could pick up and spank a grown man, but now you do, don't
you, li'l sweetums?"
     Her cooing taunts, rather than calming me, had just the
opposite effect.  Something snapped in my mind.  I heard myself
scream, and then I was writhing and twisting in fury, trying
futilly to escape the vise of her arms.  I heard her laugh, and
then my arms were pinioned to my sides and my legs locked together
as she held me, scarcely noticing my efforts, and continued to
tease me until I was completely exhausted and lay sobbing limply in
her arms.
     "Aw, what's the matter, li'l baby?  Don't you like being
carried around in Amalie's arms?  Go ahead, baby, give it all
you've got!  Is that the best you can do?  Maybe Amalie should
tickle you to make you struggle harder!  Why, if I wasn't looking
at you I'd barely know you were struggling at all!"
     When I could struggle no more, she shifted her arms, lowering
me until my head was tucked against her shoulder, and looked down
into my eyes.  "Satisfied, now, lover?" she smiled, and then
lowered her head to capture my mouth with her own in a crushing
french kiss.  I tried to squirm away, but her upper arm held my
head in place, and the pressure of her kiss prevented me from
turning it.  Then I felt her shift her grip on my legs, tucking
them under her armpit and leaving her hand free to wander over my
lower body, gently massaging my blistered rear.  To my amazement,
held helpless in her arms, her tongue exploring the inside of my
captive mouth at will, I began to feel the faint stirrings of
desire.  Almost without thinking, my arms, which were now free,
crept up around her neck and back in abject surrender to her
embrace, and in response her arm tightened around my chest with rib
cracking force.
     "You belong to me, now," she whispered.  "You're mine, to do
with as I wish.  Say it!"
     "Amalie, I--"
     "Say it!" she demanded. "Say those words to me now, or I'll
put you over my lap and spank you again, sore as you are!"
     I lowered my eyes, knowing I had no choice.  "I belong to
you," I said softly.  "I'm yours, to do with as you wish."
     Her arms tightened around me even more, so that I could hardly
breathe.  "Now," she replied triumphantly, "you are truly mine, and
everything you have will be mine, too.  I'm going to marry you, and
you are going to sign over everything you own to me.  I will
control everything in our marriage, even your body, and eventually
even your mind.  Now, I'm going to give you lesson number three--
I'm going to show you how good being subject to me can be.  I'm
going to make love to you, and you are going to experience ecstacy
like you have never known before!"
     Still holding me cradled in her arms, she carried me into her
bedroom and laid me down on the bed.  Stripping off her brief
outfit, she threw herself down on top of me, her hard, slender body
and her small, firm breasts pressing me into the bed as she covered
my face and body with her lips, passionately kissing and biting me
while her hands probed, squeezed and fondled me intimately.  The
desire that I had begun to feel as I was held in her arms now
exploded within me, and my penis grew stiff and hard with a
throbbing erection.  Suddenly, I no longer cared about being so
easily overpowered, spanked and carried about by this slender,
lovely girl.  All I wanted was for her to take me inside her and
make me a part of her, and when she finally did I thought I was
going to climax right then and there.  But somehow she held me
back, controlling my body with her hands in a way I still don't
understand while she enveloped me with her own magnificent body,
working herself up and down on my rigid shaft through each plateau
of pleasure until the eruption of her final orgasm.  Only then did
she let me come, her gasping scream of "Now!" somehow acting as a
trigger as her convulsing womanhood caressed my penis and carryed
me upward with her on wave after wave of incredible ecstacy that
lasted a seeming eternity.  When it was finally over, my body felt
completely drained, and I could only lay prostrate beneath her
while she continued to work me, extracting the last bits of
pleasure from me.
     For the remainder of that evening she continued to use my
body, to play with me as though I were her personal toy, to
demonstrate how helpless I was against her.  The strength of her
slender, shapely body was unbelievable, and I slowly came to
realize that I was like a baby compared to her, that she could do
anything with me she chose, and I was absolutely powerless to stop
her.
     As her first demonstration, after I had recovered from her
lovemaking and she had replaced her brassiere and panties, she
simply picked my naked body up under one arm, tucking me securely
under her armpit with my face to her rear, and proceded to tickle
my ribs unmercifully.  As I screamed with laughter and thrashed
about helplessly in her grip, she ignored me and actually stifled
a yawn with her free hand, giving me a sharp slap on my already
blistered rear and letting me drop to the floor only after I was
again exhausted.  Then, after letting me recover for several
minutes, she reached down and, placing her hands around my waist,
effortlessly lifted me off the floor and stood me on my feet in
front of her.  
     Holding up both hands in front of my face, she said quietly,
"Look at my hands, baby.  They can control you, make you want me or
fear me as I choose.  They can crush your, soft, white, li'l body
like I did to your hand a while ago, or they can administer
pleasure or pain with equal ease without damaging you in any way. 
How?  Here, I'll show you."  I felt her hands on my body, gently
probing, and then my mind exploded in a blinding flash of momentary
pain that coursed from my right side through the rest of my body
like a white hot poker.  I heard myself scream and felt my legs
buckle, but she held me up and continued to probe me until another
stab of incredible agony, this time from my left side, doubled me
over.   My torment ended with a third and final stab from the back
of my neck that numbed my entire body and left me hanging limply in
her hands, held erect only by the pressure of her fingers around my
waist.
     "Nerve centers, baby," I dimly heard her tell me.  "Just the
right kind of pressure, and the pain is excruciating.  They're all
over your helpless, li'l body, and I know them all."
     My mind was reeling.  "Amalie," I begged, "please.  No more."
     She gave a low laugh.  "Oh, there's lots more to come, baby. 
I'm not half finished with you yet, but I think you'll find the
next part a little more enjoyable."  Still holding me erect, her
hands again began to probe my body, stroking and fondling me until,
to my amazement, pangs of sexual desire began to course through my
loins.  As my penis stiffened, she bent down and gripped it firmly
with one hand, pressing down on its tip with her thumb until it
collapsed, and then slid her hand between my thighs to encompass my
crotch.
     I still have trouble believing what happened next.  I felt
pressure on my crotch and then I was lifted bodily off the floor,
my entire weight held securely in the palm of her single hand, and
tilted backward as she put her other hand behind my neck for
balance.  My jaw dropped in abject amazement at this demonstration
of her unbelievable strength, and then, as she gazed down at me
with placid amusement, I felt her hand tighten imperceptably around
my testicles, and my body stiffened in sudden fear.
     "Have any idea what I could do to you now, baby, if I wanted?"
she chuckled.
     "My God, Amalie!"  I blubbered.  "Please!  Don't!  Not that!"
     With a low laugh, she relaxed her grip and began to massage me
gently, again awakening pangs of sexual desire within me.  My penis
stiffened against the pressure of her palm, and within minutes,
held helpless off the floor in the palm of her hand, I was a
writhing mass of ecstacy and desire.  Still holding me in front of
her, my weight resting in the palm of her single hand, she carried
me back into her bedroom and laid me down on the bed, holding me
there with a hand on my chest while she continued to massage me,
bringing me right to the point of orgasm before shutting me off by
pressing her thumb down hard on the tip of my penis.  Then she laid
down next to me, wrapped her strong thighs around my knees and
imprisoned both my wrists back over my head in the grip of a
single, slim hand.  As her free hand again encompassed my crotch,
she lowered her head to capture my lips in a crushing french kiss.
     "Now, baby doll," she murmured, "Amalie's gonna have some fun
with you.  I'm gonna play with my little love toy."
     I had no chance to reply.  For the next half hour I was
subjected to the most exquisite, erotic torture I have ever known. 
Her free hand wandered over my body at will, alternately tickling,
poking, pinching and fondling me as I writhed and twisted helpless-
ly in her steel grip.  One moment I would be cringing and screaming
in laughter from fingers probing delicately at my tender armpits
and ribs, the next thrashing about in helpless futility as those
same fingers poked and screwed into my navel, goosed my bottom and
pinched my buttocks and the nipples of my chest only to stiffen
into a raging desire as she fondled and massaged me intimately and
covered my defenseless body with love bites and kisses.  I lost
count of how many times she repeated that cycle.  I only knew that
after a while I was barely conscious of the gentle violence she was
doing to me and that she was in complete control, able to do
whatever she wanted with me and force my body to respond in any way
she wished.  Even when she finally released me, removed her panties
and rolled over on top of me to take my erect penis inside her, I
felt almost nothing until my mind exploded into a crashing orgasm
that enveloped my body and carried me for a seeming eternity to
unbelievable heights of ecstacy.
     That was too much for me.  I fainted, remembering nothing
until I woke up the next morning to see her leaning over me
grinning, her right hand firmly encompassing my crotch.
     "Wha--what happened?" I mumbled groggily.
     She chuckled.  "You passed out on me, baby," she told me.  "I
must say I was a little put out with you for doing that, but I
figured you needed the break--after all, it was your first
experience with me.  For the future, however, we're going to have
to work on your endurance.  Can't have you fainting on me before
I'm finished with you, can we?"
     I cringed.  "My God, Amalie," I whispered, "you're not going
to do that to me again, are you?"
     She nuzzled my cheek.  "Honeybuns," she replied softly, "I'm
gonna do whatever I want to with you whenever I want to do it for
the rest of your life, and there's not a damn thing you're gonna be
able to do about it, 'cause you're my soft, li'l, white slave boy,
and I'm your big, strong, black Mistress who can wipe up the floor
with you any time she feels the urge.  Right, baby?  Got the
picture now?
     Knowing she was right, I could only close my eyes and nod
submissively.
     "Good!  
     A few days later we were married in a small, private,
specially designed ceremony before a black justice of the peace she
knew, attended by a few of her friends who shared her views on the
inferiority of men, during which I was forced to kneel before her
and promise to be her husband and slave forever.  When we were
pronounced mistress and slave and I was instructed to give my
mistress the "kiss of submission", she stood over me while I raised
my lips under her skirt to bury them in her bush and work her
womanhood until she orgasmed.  Then, taking me by the back of my
neck and my buttocks, she lifted me high over her head, turned to
face her friends and proclaimed, "This man is now mine forever!" 
Then, lowering me to cradle me in her slim, strong arms, she
carried me out of the small chapel to her car and drove to our
reception at her home, where for the rest of the day I was forced
to serve her and her friends and to endure all kinds of indignities
at their hands.  But that night, after everyone had left, she
carried me to bed and consumated our marriage in a way that I'll
never forget.
     It has now been over five years since that fateful week, and
I have fully adjusted to being Amalie's slave-husband, and am
hopelessly in love with her.  She is not a cruel mistress unless I
get out of line, and even then the worst I have to endure is a
sound spanking, but she does go out of her way to continually
demonstrate my physical and intellectual inferiority to her, both
privately and in public.  Often when we go to costume parties she
will dress as an Amazon warrior and will force me to wear a short
tunic and a sign proclaiming me as a slave she has captured in
battle, complete with collar and chain by which she can lead me
around at her pleasure.  And when we are alone she is constantly
overpowering me in some way, sometimes using only one hand to more
fully demonstrate how helpless I am against her, or picking me up
and tickling or fondling me while she laughs at my puny efforts at
resistance.  Surprisingly, I have come to love these sessions, for
the feeling of utter helplessness in her hands invariably arouses
me to the peak of sexual desire, and with it the realization that,
since she is my superior in every way, I should be grateful to
serve as the slave and love toy of My Black Mistress.

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