Lawyer Submit to Black Cock - Copied

[hirarandi]

MIKAELA'S BLACK COCK SUBMISSION STORY

"You need to get back out there or he wins," Candace said, as we finished our second bottle of wine of the evening.

"Yes, you just need to get back on that horse and go along for a ride," Samantha, my more outgoing sexually promiscuous friend, added.

"I wouldn't even know how to get on the horse again," I said, having not been in the dating scene since college.

"The best way to get revenge on that bastard is to get back in the game," Candace suggested.

"And ride the first horse that comes along," Samantha added.

"The game has changed so much since I played it," I sighed.

"The game may have changed, but the end result is the same," Samantha explained.

"And what is that?" I asked.

"To get laid, of course," Samantha quipped, sounding completely like the Samantha character on 'Sex in the City',

"I haven't been laid in over a year," I admitted for the first time.

"But Donald left you only six months ago," Candace said, surprised by my revelation.

"Yep, I guess the writing was on the wall way before I caught him at work," I said, my mind flashing back to surprising Donald at work with dinner when he said he had to work late...and learning that his definition of working late meant banging his secretary on his desk.

"That's unacceptable," Samantha said, standing up.

"There is more to life then getting laid," I pointed out, having completely forgetten what actual sex felt like.

"I'll pretend you didn't say that. Obviously your symptoms of withdrawal are making you disillusional," Samantha said, as if my dilemma was as tragic as third world poverty.

Candace nodded, "For once I agree, Samantha is right. We need to get you back out there."

"Tonight," Samantha added.

"It's almost midnight," I protested. I added, only kind of joking, "Which is two hours past my bedtime."

"It's early," Samantha countered, still living the life of a college student even though she was in her forties.

"For young people," I countered right back. "Plus, I am not dressed to go to a bar."

"I am not taking no for an answer," Samantha said, grabbing my hand and leading me to her bedroom.

I knew when Samantha had made up her mind that she wasn't going to change it. We were going to a bar whether I wanted to or not.

Candace followed and asked, "Where are we going?"

"The Pit," Samantha answered, while going to her closet.

"She is not ready for The Pit," Candace said, clearly surprised by Samantha's choice.

"What's The Pit?" I asked.

"Heaven," Samantha answered vaguely, returning with a black leather skirt and a red blouse.

"I hope that is for you," I said. I was the conservative one of the group by far and the outfit she was holding was definitely way too provocative for me.

"Put it on," Samantha ordered, her usual in control attitude taking over.

"I'm not wearing that in public," I protested.

"Just try it on," Samantha said, her tone implying annoyance at my protest.

Reluctantly, I grabbed the outfit and went to change in her bathroom.

"Just change here," Samantha said. "We've seen you naked before."

"In college," I protested.

"And you're just as hot now," Samantha said playfully.

I again obeyed, knowing it was futile to argue with Samantha. So I started to undress in front of my two best friends, when Candace repeated, "I am not sure she is ready for The Pit."

"You weren't either until I took you there," Samantha said, ignoring Candace's concerns, an inside story between them that I was clearly not a part of.

"What's The Pit?" I asked again, curious...especially with all the vague discussion between Samantha and Candace.

"It's a bar where you are guaranteed to get lucky," Samantha answered, her tone implying something more, "very, very, lucky."

Candace continued, "Let's go to Cowboys."

"Well, she could definitely get back on the horse there too," Samantha quipped.

"Let's just go to The Pit," I said. "You have me curious."

"Done," Samantha announced and gave Candace a look like 'don't say anything else'. Samantha went to the closet and returned with a couple more outfits. She tossed a black dress to Candace and said, "You can't go to The Pit dressed so conservatively."

Candace caught the dress and asked skeptically, "We are really going to do this?"

"Of course," Samantha said, getting out of her clothes, just as I got into my skirt, before adding, "You loved your first time there, didn't you, Candace?"

"Yes, but..." Candace admitted with concern.

"But nothing. Our good friend should get to see what we usually do on Friday nights," Samantha responded.

Candace's face went beet red. I was curious and asked playfully, "What do you girls do without me?"

Samantha said, all sing-song, "You'll see."

Silently, we all got dressed, a strange tension in the air. Samantha went to her dresser drawer and pulled out packages of pantyhose. She tossed a pair to Candace and another to me. "Put these on," she instructed, not remotely implying this was an option.

When I realized they were thigh high stockings and not pantyhose. I protested, "This skirt is too short for these."

"Trust me," Samantha said, "You will want to be wearing thigh highs. Isn't that right, Candace?"

"Yes," Candace whispered, clearly embarrassed by something as she looked directly at Samantha. "You want me to wear red ones?"

"It's time for you to reach the final frontier," Samantha said, as she put on a pair of white thigh highs.

"I don't know," Candace said, with trepidation.

"Have I ever been wrong before?" Samantha asked.

"I guess not, but this is a bit extreme," Candace said, her cheeks still fire red.

"Finish getting dressed, we don't want to miss out," Samantha said, ominously.

My thigh highs were beige and I couldn't get past the feeling that the colour of nylon somehow was significant, although the thought didn't make any logical sense.

Samantha called a taxi and fifteen minutes later, another glass of wine downed, we were heading to The Pit.

Once there, I said, having been there a couple times, years ago, "This used to be Cohen's Pub."

"Yep, but the new name is a lot more logical," Samantha said, as Candace and I got out.

Candace pulled me aside outside and warned, "You don't have to do anything you don't want to in there."

"Of course," I said, finding a worried, concerned look in her eyes. "What is it?"

"This bar isn't like most bars," she said, just as Samantha joined us after flirting with the cute taxi driver.

I wanted to ask more, but Samantha was back in charge. "Let's go and change Mikaela's life forever."

I quipped, "I feel like Cinderella when the Prince slipped the glass slipper on."

"Oh, you will feel more like Sleeping Beauty when your dormant sexual desires are awakened," Samantha quipped back, again an underlying secret hidden inside her words.

A part of me was excited about whatever lay ahead, yet another part of me, based on Candace's earlier reaction, worried me. The thought of playing the flirtation game instantly exhausted me, yet they were right. It was time to get back into the game. My king-sized bed seemed so big all by myself, and watching Meg Ryan movies alone was depressing. So, with an open mind, I headed into the bar with no idea what lay before me.

Once inside, I instantly noticed the obvious. Over ninety-five percent of the men were black. As I perused the establishment, I also noticed that most of the women were my age or older. There didn't seem to be any women there under thirty.

I looked to Samantha and asked, "You brought me to a bar full of black men?"

"Well-endowed, white women pleasing, black men," Samantha corrected, grabbing my hand and leading me to the bar.

She ordered shots for all three of us and a bottle of wine. Once the shots arrived, Samantha said, "A toast."

"To what?" I asked, naive and overwhelmed.

"To the night that forever changes your life," Samantha answered.

"Okay," I agreed, unsure what lay ahead.

We downed our shots, some great liquid courage, as Samantha led us to the dance floor. Wine in hand, we began dancing to some hardcore dance music I had never heard of. As I continued to check out my surroundings, I noticed something else: all the women here were wearing nylons of some colour. I also noticed that without a doubt quite a few of the black men were checking us out...and, although not trying to sound self-centered, most seemed to be checking me out...even though no doubt Samantha was the perfect ten of our group...with her red hair, green eyes, voluptuous breasts and tight ass. She swam daily and was still in amazing shape, which annoyed both Candace and I.

Candace is a brunette, with brown eyes, small breasts, and long legs. She had not completely lost her baby weight from having three children, but she was still very pretty and liked to wear short skirts and five inch heels to showcase her legs.

I wasn't the ugly duckling of the group...but I was the most conservative. I seldom wore heels, I hid my large 38DD breasts behind sweaters and I wore long skirts or dresses that showed little more than my ankles. That said, the outfit Samantha made me wear showed so much of my legs that the men leering could see the top of my lace top stockings and my breasts were outlined clearly in the tight red blouse. I imagined I looked like a cougar on the prowl.

Samantha leaned over once the song was done, while we were downing our wine and said, "Here, look at this."

She handed me her phone. I looked at it and I imagine my face paled. I read:

The Colour Code for The Pit
The colour of nylon you are wearing tells our patrons what exactly you are interested in.
Beige.............first timer
Black.............full face fucking
Fishnet..........deep ass fucking
Pink...............mouth full of cunt
Red...............double or triple penetration (threesome or more some)
White............hard cunt pounding

I looked at Candace's legs and then Samantha's before asking, even though the question was obviously rhetorical based on everything I had noticed since arriving here, "You can't be serious?"

"We can leave now if you want," Candace offered, giving me an out.

Samantha protested, "We're not going anywhere unless it is with one of these big cocked studs." Turning to Candace, she added, "Well, two or three for you, you black cock slut."

"But you're married!" I gasped, not remotely surprised that Samantha would be here fucking some black stranger, but Candace would never cheat on her man...would she?

Candace's face went super red again, apparently answering the question I hadn't asked, but was thinking about.

Samantha explained, "How does that saying go Candace?"

Candace glared at Samantha, but answered, "Once you go black, you never go back."

"To white," Samantha finished, just as a large black man joined us.

"Samantha, I see you brought along a new recruit," he said, his voice super deep. "A very sexy new recruit."

I blushed at the compliment by a complete stranger.

"We were drinking tonight to cheer up my friend here, whose bastard of an ex cheated on her, and we learned she hasn't gotten laid in over a year," Samantha revealed my secret.

"Samantha!" I gasped.

"Just telling the truth," Samantha explained innocently, not seeming to have a clue how revealing such information was a violation of our friendship.

"So you've never had black cock, sweetheart?" He asked, his hand going to my leg.

"No, sir," I said, realizing I sounded ridiculously submissive with such a subservient response. I watched as a chubby white woman in her fifties, wearing a collar around her neck and fishnet stockings, was being led out by a young man who didn't look old enough to be here.

Samantha said, seeing me watching the strange scene, "I see Omar is going to destroy another woman's ass."

"That leash thing was a brilliant idea, wish I would have thought of it," the black man said, his hand sliding up my leg slightly causing an undeniable tingle in my cunt.

Samantha said, "Oh, by the way, this is my friend Mikaela."

The black man offered his hand, leaving my leg; I extended mine and he said, "Nice to meet you, Mikaela. My name is Bruce."

"Bruce is an offensive lineman for the Pittsburgh Steelers," Samantha explained.

"Oh," was all I could muster, understanding suddenly why he was so massive.

Just then a couple other men walked over to us in suits and ties. A tall man in his early thirties looking like a lawyer who had ended up in the wrong bar, said to Candace, "Come with me."

Candace looked at me, her eyes apologizing, as she said, "Yes, Master," and obediently followed the two suit and ties.

The word 'Master' stunned me. The term had always been perceived in my mind as a terrible derogatory term used in the days of slavery...yet there it was being used, ironically, in completely the opposite direction.

Samantha called out, "Have fun, slut."

Candace didn't look back, with a demeanor that showed undeniable excitement as they walked up some stairs.

Samantha explained, "There are some rooms you can rent."

"Oh," I said again, completely overwhelmed by the situation and unable to comprehend the reality that Candace was going with two black strangers to get fucked. Yet, my cunt leaked into my panties, the idea, something I had never once considered (more than one man at a time), suddenly appealing.

"Of course, some men here have their own room, don't they stud," Samantha continued.

"That they do," he smiled. Looking at me, he said, "I need to make a phone call. Nice to meet you, Mikaela. Maybe we can get to know each other better a bit later." The way he said 'better' sent a chill up my spine.

He left and Samantha said, "He has the second biggest cock I have ever had."

"You fucked him?" I asked.

"He was my first," she said, before clarifying, "Well, first big black cock that is."

"How big?" I asked, suddenly curious. Donald, my ex-husband, had a small cock, barely five inches, and when he fucked me I always wished he was bigger....never truly feeling full when he fucked me...my toys are longer and thicker, truthfully.

"Twelve inches," she revealed.

"Fuck off!" I responded, a lot louder than I meant to, such a number unfathomable.

"And thick," she added. "I want to take it in my ass someday, but I'm not sure I can take it all. Then again, you only live once."

"You take it in the ass?" I asked, even though it wasn't much of a surprise, as Samantha was a slut.

"So does Candace. Actually, she has become quite the ass slut since she started coming here," Samantha revealed, her stunning revelation compounded by another stunning revelation. "But this will be her first double penetration."

"Anal sex; double penetration; what the hell? Are we in a 'Twilight Zone' episode?" I asked.

"Trust me, this is very, very real," Samantha smiled.

"I can't believe Candace would cheat on Barry," I said, still trying to understand all I had learned.

"We came here the first time drunk and one thing led to another," Samantha explained. "But trust me, after you've tasted dark chocolate you will be changed forever."

"That is such a stereotype," I said, trying to hide my growing curiosity as I felt dozens of pairs of eyes watching me.

"Most stereotypes are stereotypes for a reason," she shrugged. "Now I need desperately to get fucked," she added and walked away, leaving me alone.

I wasn't alone ten seconds when a handsome, bald, 6'3 black man, wearing enough gold around his neck to feed a third world country said, "Hi, bitch."

"Excuse me?" I asked, shocked by his greeting.

Taking my hand, he said, "It's time to break in that white cunt of yours."

I tried to pull my hand away, but his grip was too strong.

"Or do you just want some black meat in that pretty mouth of yours?" he asked, as he led me away from the bar and to the same stairs Candace had gone up just a few minutes ago.

"I-I-I'm not like that," I stammered, even as I followed behind him without hesitation.

"That's what all you white MILF bitches say," he said, not even looking at me as we headed up the stairs, before adding, "until the black cock is in front of your face and then her tune always changes."

I couldn't believe Samantha and Candace had brought me here; I couldn't believe I was following this black stranger into some unknown room for sex; I couldn't believe my cunt was soaking my panties...apparently withdrawal and wine makes you willing to do unthinkable, uncharacteristic things.

He opened a door, led me inside, closed it and ordered, "Knees, bitch."

I heard the words, yet I couldn't believe how disrespectful he was being.

When I didn't move, he ordered, putting his hands on my shoulders and roughly pushing me onto my knees, "Now, slut. You came here to experience black cock and by God, I am going to give it to you."

I remained silent, unable to completely comprehend the situation I was in.

"Fish out your chocolate treat, bitch," he ordered, his crotch directly in my face.

Partly out of curiosity (was black cock as big as the rumours I had heard my whole life?), partly out of hunger (it had been so long since I had a cock in me) and partly out of obedience (I was both turned on by his powerful dominant persona and slightly scared to disobey), I moved my trembling hands to his pants and unzipped his fly.

"Good white slut," he said, as I obeyed his order.

I remained silent, no words properly able to respond to such a statement aimed at me as I focused on fishing out his cock. As I released it from his underwear, I gasped. It was huge and it wasn't even completely hard.

He chuckled, "Bigger than your husband's, I assume."

"Twice as big," I answered, in awe of its girth.

"Go ahead, bitch, make it nice and hard in that pretty white mouth of yours," he said, continuing to make the act of my submission so naughty.

I opened my mouth and leaned forward, suddenly wanting to feel it grow inside me, mesmerized by the utter beauty of it.

I wrapped my lips around this thick cock and slowly bobbed back and forth.

"That's it, bitch, worship my black python," he groaned, which enhanced my eagerness...having forgotten how much I used to enjoy a cock in my mouth.

I continued slowly taking more of his cock into my mouth, knowing I could never take it all, yet wanting to see how far I could get.

He said, "It seems you are changing your tune, slut."

I moaned on his cock, so enthralled by the majestic nature of it.

After a couple more minutes of sucking his massive cock, he ordered, "Now stop making love to my cock, bitch. Suck it like the nigger lover you are."

I couldn't believe he had just used the 'N' word. Yet, somehow the word only enhanced how naughty and taboo this was. I obeyed, shifting from slow and concentrated sucking, to faster bobs. The extra saliva I created I hoped enhanced the blow job. His groans increased as did his dirty talk...which again only increased my sudden insatiable hunger to please him.

"That's it, bitch," and "You will never want to suck your husband after this," and "You're pretty good for a white slut," and "I bet your kids would be proud to learn their mommy is a nigger lover."