Yes, Master. [M/m, Feminization, Intr, Mdom]

Theodore Scott sat at the long, redwood table in the glorious plantation house. His long brown hair was tied back in a ponytail with a large blue bow. He courtly sipped the cold fruit juice as the mixed slave girl poured another glass.

“It’s rather pleasant today, is it not, Jessabelle?” he swallowed his bite of steak, finally enjoying some calm, cool weather. It usually was miserably hot and humid.

“Yassuh, massuh Scott.” she smiled with a grin of false joy. She ran her white fingers through her blonde curls to keep them from dangling in front of her blue eyes and freckled round nose.

“You a good friend…”
He was all by himself here. He was sent off by his father to run a plantation until his father could come by and run it from there. But his father would not be arriving by boat for weeks. Months maybe. His only company was Jessabelle, and the occasional slave beater. But he hated them…they were disgusting, ignorant, violent white people from the uncivilized areas of the colonies. And their English was atrocious: yassuh, yassum, ain’t, naw, shucks, gimme, dat, da, den, niggah, krackuh, lawd, chuuch, sweet lawd hah muzzay. Atrocious! Could they not elucidate the queen’s English?! And then, to make things worse? They pass this bastardized ignorant way of speaking to the slaves…and the slaves think THIS is proper English?! Shameful.
Theodore brushed it out of his mind and looked up at Jessabelle.

“You like the dress I bought you? It…uh…it looks beautiful on you.”

“…yeah.” she replied dryly. The dress was too hot. Too stuffy. Too thick. Maybe it would be comfortable in a dry or cold climate. But this was the equator. Wearing thick, stuffy clothing in such heat would lead to illness, death, misery, and bad hygiene. If Jessabelle had her way, she’d be in a silken dashiki, with her hair in braids, and wearing sandals. But she wasn’t having her way. She was the only slave dressed like the barbarians. And to make matters worse, she was the only woman on this tiny island. She grew weary of the men in the field always asking her in whispers if she was alright or had been raped. Which she hadn’t. But she knew Master Scott had a weakness for chocolate. And not just the dessert. Though, she had no interest in him, and hid her despisement of him behind veiled smiles.

His cheeks blushed red, as did his throat and chest. His lips had swelled quite a bit over the past few days: plump and pillowy as a African or Native woman’s. He undid his neckerchief. It was hot here, yes, but he’s been feeling hotter than usual lately. More emotional. His hair has gotten thicker and softer too lately. Yet his dreams and emotions have been all over the place. He hoped it wasn’t fever. Or maybe it was just being all by himself here to manage this plantation and all these slaves on his own for awhile? Or maybe…maybe….he didn’t know. Maybe the fury and rage-filled letters from the Quakers about inhumanity and psychopathy to his father and all slave keepers just…just got to him. He didn’t know. But what he did know for sure was the sweet tea and soup Jessie gave him always helped make him feel better, as did her company. Theodore thanked the angels for her company in the big house, because he’s been feeling weirder and hotter lately. And her famous sweet tea is just divine.

Suddenly, a thunderous sound echoed outside. As if a wave of cannon balls had thundered just past the house porch, before clapping loudly with a thunderous THOOM!!!

Theodore jumped in his chair, dropping his fork. Jessabelle screamed and dropped a clay pitcher of juice to shatter across the wood floor.

“WHAT WAS THAT?!” he screams, before she runs from the dining room to the front of the house.

Outside the massive grand old plantation windows, a mass of stable horses ran loose. A number of cattle behind them, stampeding to break through the fences and even part of the porch. The carriage horse, still tied to the carriage, flew into hysteria too before half falling over and causing the fine wood carriage to break and smash across the porch.

Jessabelle looked horrified, before her blue eyes narrowed through the window. She looked at a mark etched into the smashed carriage, and that none of the horses were saddled.

“Uh oh…”

“WHAT?!”

“Tis a revolt, massuh Theodore!” she trembled. But the edges of her mouth twitched, trying to force down a smile of relief.

“A REVOLT?!?”

“Yassuh!”

“W-w-well…whatta we do?”

A loud THUNKKGG!!!! hit the side of the house, causing them both to jump. A iron-tipped javelin, thrown from some far distance, clunked into the house. Then the window shattered as a Native arrow broke the glass and it’s stone tip thunked into the wall of the house.

“WHAT THE DEVIL?!?!” Theodore cried. He and Jessabelle stared at one another, before he snatched the arrow off the wall. A piece of paper clung to it. Strange lettering was written on it. They looked like someone tried to combine Egyptian hieroglyphs with cursive English letters.

“I…what is this?!”

Jessabelle took the folded paper from him, and her eyes deftly perused it.

“It’s Wolof…” she whispered, recognizing the words. But she couldn’t read. Yet, she somehow got the gist of the message.

“They done killed the masters!” she gasped, “…and now, they comin’ fo’ you…er, I mean, US! …yeah…”

The natives were nightmarish alone, but now the slaves had weaponized? Theodore felt his heart thunder in his chest, and adrenaline rushed his entire body. His soft white cheeks blazed red as his blue eyes bulged in horror.

He looked out the window to see a chocolate wave of black, sweaty, iron-hard muscle and testosterone raging through the field, holding axes and spears. He knew he was a dead man. At only 140 pounds, he was still smaller than the smallest of those men.

“OUT THE BACK!” Jessabelle cried, as they both ran through the plantation like horses running from a pack of wolves. They burst through the back door, and then down into the cellar. Jessabelle silently closed the doors and held her finger up to her plump lips.
The sound of powerful men thundering inside the house just above their heads made Theodore almost wet himself.

Jessabelle and he quietly hurried down through the cellar until they reached a secret exit that went out double doors through the back of the house. Just outside the barn for the two milk cows. The sound of furniture being shattered and iron utensils being rummaged, so to be smelted down into weaponry, thundered through the ceiling above their heads.

“Shhhhh….” she cautioned him. The deep, baritone voices of men speaking in Wolof went back and forth overhead.

“Wh-what are they saying?” his huge eyes trembled in the dark. The blonde in her pink dress listened intently.

[ Find the barbarian! And enslave him! ]

[ Why not kill him? He is a barbarian after all? Look at his psychopathic evil! ]

[ No, no. Because then, THAT will make you just as evil. We will use him as leverage to secure our position, until we can rendevous with the native people and get away from this living hell. ]

[ The barbarians follow a belief where they do not divide themselves by nation like human beings do, they only see dark or pale. Nothing else. Like ants. Animals. ]

[ He is a misguided young man! Lack of mercy is not our way! Lead by example, change hearts by your own actions, Mukomi! ]

[ …uhh… Just please reconsider. Us and the Natives are human beings, but these pale people? I believe what the natives say, that these people are not human at all. Demons put on Earth to turn it into a living hell. ]

[ Don’t be superstitious, he’s still as human as you and I. He is just misguided… ]

“Jessie!” Theodore shakes her fluffy, pink shoulder. His normally smooth voice cracks and goes higher than usual. “What in the hell they sayin’?!”

“…uh….” Jessie rolls her big blue eyes mischievously, “…I ain’t know, massuh. I cayn’t unnastand that jungle talk…”

As the sound of ransacking filled the house, suddenly the sound of the locked cellar door being chopped down thundered like a storm.

“WHATTA WE DO?!” Theodore gasps.

“RUN!!!” gasps Jessie, as the two run through the cellar towards the back of it, away from the stairway that goes up to the house’s first floor. As they reached the back of it, she ran up a long stairway that led to double doors above her head.

“HERE!” she whispered frantically, unlatching the lock and struggling to push open the doors with her tiny little body. Even though Theodore was male, he wasn’t much bigger than she was. But the two little bodies forced open the double doors, causing them open upward and outward, revealing the black, crystal-clear night.
Theodore tried to grab her wrist, but she jerked back.

“COME ON!”

Her expression changed and she sneered, her ice blue irises in her almond-shaped African eyes half-lidded with a sense of disgust.

“No.”

“JESSIE!!!”

“Go. Run. “Massuh”.” she frowns, before slamming the double doors shut and locking the latch.

The orange glow of blazing fires in the back lit the night sky, and the thundering sounds of Ivory Coast regional drums, long distance advanced communication from one outpost to another, thundered through the hot, windy night.

The tropical trees sway in the wind, almost as if doing mystic prayers to the rhythms of the communication drums.

“Oh sweet Jesus!” Theodore cries, looking around in confusion, fearing for his life. He suddenly sees a area of the plantation where no glowing light of fires is. And a place of safety: the cow barn. They only had two cattle: one bull, one cow. But maybe he could hide among the cow, she was sweet and docile. The bull himself tensely paced around the pen, upset by the fires in the far distance.

Theodore fled for all he was worth towards the barn, racing with every ounce of strength and energy in his body. He ran so hard that he almost slammed into the doors of the barn, before panicking with the locks and finally, getting it open. As the door creaked open a few feet, he forced himself deep inside, and shut the door behind him hard. The barn smelled like a cow, like hay. He leaned upside the doors, peeking through the crack, before running towards one of the four pens. He dived in the one with Ol’ Jubilee, the sweet and loving cow. She mooed with a half-asleep sense of no-urgency, greeting him as he ran past her pen and scrambled into the empty one right next to hers. Theodore pushed himself into the back, in a pile of hay, before hugging his arms around his knees, which were pulled up to his chest, and rocking back and forth, horrified for his life. He didn’t know what to do, and he didn’t know if he’d make it through this night alive.

Theodore sat in the back of the empty cow’s pen for hours. But no sounds came around in earshot, except for the calming ho-hum activities of Jubilee. The heavy sound of her chewing and mellow breathing gave him a meditative sense of calm. The cooling wind of the night blew through some of the cracks in the barn, offering a sense of sweet relief and fresh air. With shaking hands, he dipped in a bag of oats and dried peas, eating like a starving man, before cupping his hands in the water trough and slurping water into his dried, chapped lips.

Nothing happened for hours. He relaxed back in the pen, falling asleep from the exhaustion of the adrenaline rush.

Suddenly, jolted awake to the startling clang of the barn door’s iron lock snapping shut. Theodore, startled, snapped awake. His hair ran down his face to his collar bone, and his ponytail was a mess. He had hay in his clothing, itchy and uncomfortable. As his eyes opened, he noticed he didn’t hear Jubilee anymore.

Theodore sat up to see the barn was lit by candle lamps, filling it with a glowing, throbbing orange and yellow light. He looked up, staring directly into dark, almond-shaped eyes under almost perfectly-shaped arching eyebrows. He swallowed hard, recognizing the large square jaw, perfect cleft chin, thick pink lips, and high cheek bones of the almost-black brown face staring back at him. A iron earring hung from his earlobe, and his neck was so muscular that was as wide as his head.

It was Djimba, the most powerful slave on the island. His body was built like a god of power: incredibly muscular, yet not cut. His biceps were big as his head, and that’s not counting the addition of those glistening, black triceps. His chest bulged out like two huge stones. He had little definition in his stomach, but when he breathed, abs the size of Theodore’s entire fist flexed. He was bald and clean shaven, almost hairless. He wore nothing but a skirt of burlap that ran down to his calves and a necklace with human finger bones on it. From his necklace hung a miniature hammer: the symbol of the African god of smithing, iron and war. “The African Thor”, called Ogun.

“…uh…uhhh….” Theodore slowly scrambled back against the wall of the barn pen. Even with all the long brown hair in his face, he could see enough to know he was fucked. Djimba could pick up a regular-sized man with one hand, let alone someone tiny like him.

He looked around to see Djimba wasn’t alone. As Theodore’s eyes adjusted to the dim light, he saw more and more strong, powerful black bodies. Large and muscular arms crossed with burlap skirts, symbol of powerhouse warriors, dedicating themselves to the pantheon of gods called Orishas: a religion more ancient than ancient. Not one of these men stood under 5’10” in height or weighed less than 180 pounds in weight. Frightening, compared to Theodore’s little 5’6” height and 140 pounds in weight. The entire barn smelled of manhood: clean sweat, testosterone, iron, power, and the steamy body heat from iron-hard muscles everywhere. Theodore’s entire face blazed hot and red more and more with each breath. He couldn’t explain it. He felt not just adrenaline and fear, but…a tingling in his groin and his nipples hardened. He wasn’t sure if this was fear, confusion, or some kind of….witchery.

“Naka ngon si.” said a deep, powerful voice from somewhere in the midst of the men.

“…what?”

“It means “Good evening, and welcome.”” says a familiar female voice. From the midst of the men came the small, lithe body of Jessie, with her hair wrapped in a lovely woman’s head wrap and wearing fabric as if it was a Roman toga. All the men nod their heads to her in a sign of gentlemanly respect for a proper lady. She bows back to them, returning the courtesy.

“JESSIE!”

“My name ain’t Jessie, not Jessabelle, none ah that. My name is Awa Khadyjah.”

One of the men says something in Wolof, laughing. Jessie lays her hand on her chest and femininely giggles like a girly girl. She then turns to Theodore, a sadistic smile on her face.

“So this where you done ran and hid, boy?”

“Jessie…?”

[ He looks like a disheveled, loose woman who had too much wheat beer to drink! ] laughs one of the men in Wolof.

Jessie laughs too, turning to the man who spoke. [ The irony is hilarious, don’t you think? Is he not in a pen for the female cattle? With wheat?! Hahahaha! ]

The mess of people laugh. She then turns to him and laughs femininely, her wrist limp as she slides her fingers under her soft, pale chin.

[ I have a question, if you don’t mind translating, good madam? ] speaks Djimba in a deep voice. Jessie looks up at him as if he’s a dream boat.

[ I do not mind, good sir. ]

[ Ask this… “man,” why is the island all only men? And ask, why were we always fed food spiked with the medicine that filled us with burning energy and sexual desire? ]

She turns to Theodore, a innocent expression on her face.

“Mistuh Scott… why fo’ I’ze the only woman on this here island? And, why did all the men have to take them stallion thangs with they food?”

“….huh? I….my father said that was so…so the men could work more in a day…and he didn’t want his nxggers breedin’ unless he got the right….right….” A lump formed in Theodore’s throat. “…the right negresses to make healthier….dear G0d….I did not support that! I didn’t, I say!”

“Oh? Well, you sho’ didn’t say no, now did ya?”

She turned to the black wave of masculinity behind Djimba.
[ You men were given stallion sexual aide, to make you work more, and harder. Like livestock, mere livestock. And, there were only men here, so they could choose which women to breed you with to make children as if mere horses and cattle. ]

“My father…is sick. He buys breeding tonic for the animals, I didn’t know he’d use the stallion tonics on human beings. I could only imagine what he’d do with the breeding tonic for cows and mares…”

“You mean THIS tonic?” she cheerfully chimed, pulling out a empty burlap sack from a deep pocket in her long toga. In black letters, it said on it BREEDING POWDER: FOR MARES ONLY.
The bag was empty.

“….what?”

“You sho’ loooovvvveee my tea, huh?” she grinned a beautiful, pearly smile. Theodore remembered how he always was drinking that delicious, unique tea of hers. It tasted like no tea he ever had before. And her “secret recipe”, she always made…by herself….in the kitchen….behind closed…doors…

“…J-Jessie….you…you didn’t?”

He never SAW her make it. He looked down at his puffy chest, how thick his hair had become, and how his body hair was slowly disappearing on his now soft, smooth skin. He breathed deep, now realizing how inhaling the powerful pheromones of these superior warriors, fueled on stallion fertility tonic, was only seeming to make his limp, little white cock dribble and drool precum of lust. Like a glistening river down his white, small thighs.

Then she slid her hands up Djimba’s huge, solid arm and smirked at Theodore. “But that’s alright. Cuz while y’all was feedin’ these men stallion tonic? I was feedin’ you too. “Massuh.”

The irony was not lost on Theodore. As these men unnaturally became bigger, stronger, and more fertile. He became smaller, softer, more sensitive, and also more fertile. His hips widened as their shoulders widened. His ass became rounder as their arms became bigger. He looked out at the glistening, black mountains of testosterone and male power. And…inside…it made him spill a drop of clear precum down his pale, blushing, firm thighs.

Jessie took a pinch of soot from a pocket in her dress, balled in her hand, palm upward, and then begin to vibrate. Her eyes rolled into her head, and a wind from nowhere seemed to gust barely-noticeable gusts from her very person. Theodore looked in horror as she opened her palm as if to blow a kiss in his direction, and then she blew…

When the dust hit him in the face, he felt like the entire world fell through the floor. Images upon images upon images flashed through his skull. Feelings. Emotions. Pain. Misery. Too much.
Suddenly, the world spun back to normality. He felt flushed with a ocean of emotions, from guilt to lust. He felt intimidated beyond belief, but that only fueled a odd feeling of sexual arousal, which then fueled embarrassment. A burning circle of emotions that only grew stronger and stronger.

“How…ho-how…how can I make up fo’ this?” he ran his fingers through his thick, voluminous hair that now fell down his shoulders.

“You caused a lot of pain. A lot of misery, sho’ did. And tha god of war, tha god of storms, of smithin’, the god of protecting any race ah human beings who is loyal ta him?” she gently cradled a iron hammer talisman hanging from her necklace: the hammer of Ologun, “…a sin and cruelty must be made up fo’ to be forgiven.”

“Compensation?”

“Dat’s right. If ya steal from a man, you must return what ya stole, or pay him what you cost him. Cum-pen-say-shawn….but then again, we juss livestock, right? Ain’t human at all? Just cuz them bastards from the Benin empire took our land and sold us to y’all folk, that’s grounds fuh this?”

He ran his fingers through his thick, shiny chocolate hair and clenched his eyes shut, trying to shake the realization of his father’s evil out of his head.

“How can I make up for this?! To be forgiven?”

“Well….” Jessie thought up her own idea. “You are in a breedin’ barn.”

“Whuh?”

“You ain’t know, “massuh?” This here ain’t no cow barn. This be a BREEDIN’ BARN…”massuh.” Where you put tha mares ‘n’ cows before you bring in the bulls ‘n’ stallions ta BREED ‘em, fill ‘em fulla fertile seed so they swell heavy wit chyle…you ain’t know?”

She reached under Djimba’s skirt and her forearm begin to work. His skirt lifted up high, before falling off to reveal one of the biggest, strongest, most powerful glistening cocks Theodore had ever seen. Jessie’s pale fingers wrapped around the shaft selfishly, as she stroked up the glistening, literally black pole sinfully.
The huge black balls beneath it were each as big as one of Theodore’s fists. They pulsed, overloaded with seed due to the stallion fertility drug given to all the men for the past months. White drops dripped from the bright pink mushroom head. Theodore found himself hypnotized by it. He swallowed hard, wanting just to touch it. To feel the veins and girth of it.

“Yassuh…” she cooed, rolling her thumb under the huge pink head. “…get a bull all worked up, so he can plant plenty o’ seed deep up in a cow’s belly. And it’s kinda funny…” she licked the precum off her fingers, before reaching out and grabbing another throbbing cock. “…you ARE in the pen for cows rett to breed. And you do look like a pretty lil’ thang. Brown hair and white skin…heh, like a brown n’ white cow. Aftah me, you the closest next bess thang to woman on this whole damn island.”

Theodore had no idea what to say. He sat in the hay, feeling a whirlwind of feelings. But he could not take his eyes off the massive, throbbing Senegambian cock dripping fertile ropes of clearish-white seed from it’s purple head. Jessie opened the pen, and gently walked in. Theodore sat there, feeling shock at learning just how horrible the whole situation was. Feeling fear for his own life. And…feeling…insanely, ragingly, furiously aroused by the scent of testosterone and these powerful warriors. All of them fertile, with seed superior to his own.

Jessie opened the pen, walking in and she very sensually, softly undid his shirt. His puffy, oversensitive nipples popped free into the air. His face flamed warm from just knowing these men were all staring at his naked upper body. Theodore’s own thoughts betrayed him. He looked at these powerful men, and thought of how small, soft and weak he was. He didn’t feel fit to even be considered “male” in their presence. The massive black god of power, Djimba, walked into the pen. His dark, almond-shaped eyes locked into the shivering, bright blue eyes looking up at him and his gigantic, black pecs.

Theodore felt a massive lump form in his throat. And his breath sped up. He felt a warm, glowing in his taint and balls. His plump, estrogen-filled lips trembled as soft voice spoke up.
“I’m sorry. I’m so sorry for what my father did….let me….let me make it up to you….”

As Jessie popped his belt off, causing his blue pantaloons to fall off his plump, pink ass, he felt secretly happy to drop to his knees in the hay. A part of him wanted to. REALLY wanted to. He was eye-level with the slave’s master cock, as the master lifted his small, soft trembling hands like a slave.
Something in the back of his mind was somewhere between hypnotized and fascinated with the cock as he touched it. It was boiling hot. Hard as iron. Veiny. And he could feel the mighty man’s heart beat in his palms. Even with both hands, he couldn’t grip the entirety of it. He closed his eyes and breathed deep. The strong, salty testosterone scent made his nipples hardened. It smelled nothing like him, not as flowery or soft as Theodore has smelled all his life.

“I’m…I’m sorry for the agony the stallion tonic has caused y’all…” he said. He thought a stupid thought. Maybe…maybe if he helps them get some relief…they’ll forgive him. Maybe the gods will forgive him? Theodore knew the slaves didn’t masturbate. Maybe they were too ignorant to do so? They HAD to be pent up badly…

“I’mma…uhh…teach y’all how to get relief…as a man….” he flustered, trying to think of a less slutty reason to be jacking off the huge cock in his hands.

“They know what mastuhbation is.” Jessie interrupted, raking her fingernails down the huge chest of Djimba and running her fingers through the thick, lush hair of the white girl on his knees. “…but see, when they became warriors, they vowed not to masturbate. Because it’s seen as dishonorable. So, sexual relief is only found through sex with one’s wife, or on a holiday where it’s allowed.”

“Or…unhh…unhh…through a prostitute?”

Jessie snickered at his ignorance. “No, adultery is such a shame that some may commit honorable suicide. A person may be exiled for adultery. But…I think you’re a special case. This isn’t about lust, right? It be compensation. Fixin’ the problem you done caused… and you all have to get the animal breedin’ tonic out y’all systems…”

“Yeahhhh….” Theodore didn’t hear her anymore. His strong blue eyes in his gentle pink face almost crossed from over-focusing on the huge, pink head drooling ropes of precum on his naked thighs. He jerked both his hands up and down the length of it, causing the huge, hanging balls to swing. They were heavy. Huge. FULL of fertile sperm. African warrior sperm. Powerful sons and soft beautiful daughters. Ready for a pink womb.

Theodore’s little 3 inches erect splurted a glop of clearish fluid between his knees. He felt like he came, but in a weak orgasm. And he didn’t feel tired or “done.” But after his mini-orgasm, he felt like his arousal just grew, as if he stroked to the edge of cumming, and stopped.

“Lord….” he gasped, knowing his rising body heat and boiling lust was the mare and cow breeding tonic in his system. She gave him enough for a whole cow in just months. He didn’t know what it would do to him…but…..fuck it.

The huge, strong black hand reached out and gently cradled the top of his feminine head. The head slowly pushed closer and closer to his face, no matter how much he gripped the shaft and tried to pull his head away. When he tried to turn his face, Djimba’s strong hand turned his face back, just where the cock head pushed against his plump, pink lips. It felt like kissing hard, hot and spongy lips. A sweet flavor leaked from the slit in the head. Sweet, like sweet and salty. The head pushed against his closed mouth.

“Nangu.” said the deep, powerful manly voice that rumbled from the black chest.

Theodore didn’t know what it meant, but…the depth of the voice and his intimidation was enough for him to pucker his lips like a kiss. He kissed the head hard to try to appease his master. His lips became slick and wet with a sweet, syrupy fluid. It actually tasted good. And made his groin boil with lust. He kissed it again. Long and hard. Held his lips against the firm, spongy head, forcing fluid out as he squeezed the shaft hard like a giant tube. A nice palm full of white fluid spilled across his lips and dripped in ropes down his pink, soft chin. He looked up at Djimba, hoping to please. The warrior’s huge, powerful thumb laid neatly in the part down the middle of his thick, silky brown hair.

When Theodore instinctively opened his mouth to lick the wetness from his lips, the powerful iron buttocks of Djimba hardened as his hips slowly pushed the cock head between the cock kisser’s lips. Theodore felt something hot, hard, warm, and salty sweet force his jaw open and gently slide down along his tongue and into his mouth. A warm, pulsing feeling slowly drove through his veins, turning his white ass, thighs, chest and face a bright glowing pink. It was the mare tonic. Had to be.

Jessie gently rubbed the back of Theodore’s head and pushed him down on the huge, African mast. She pulled one of Theodore’s hands off the shaft. She had to tug. Even the master didn’t realize how masterfully he had gripped the black meat, like iron chains. She grabbed his small, soft, warm pink hand in her own small, soft yellow hand and turned his palm upward. His palm was pushed to cup and hold a ball big as a baseball. The sack felt so full. So much strong, healthy, potent and fertile seed.

“GNGG!” Theodore gagged into the meat pole like a trumpet player coughing into a engulfed corndog. A White stream of his own female ejaculate shot from between his legs to splatter like white milk across the rippling, hairless, black shins of Djimba. His white sperm flew towards the leg, like black steel, splattered weakly, and rolled down in drips as if exhausted. Defeated puddles of weak sperm pooling at the huge, size 17 naked man-feet. And Theodore still felt like he was about to cum again. He lifted himself up on his feet, like a woman squatting to pee. And let Jessie puppeteer him.

“…ehh….”

It was the first sound of defeat muttered from Djimba since he last spoke. Djimba the undefeatable. Djimba, who could stand naked and be whipped into a bleeding statue of masculinity before even flinching. Djimba who had been shot by a musket, and kept walking. NOBODY defeated Djimba. NOBODY.

Theodore always felt intimidated by him. He felt weak and crushable in this warrior’s towering shadow. As black as the mounds of muscle and self-discipline that casts it. But when he gagged and Jessie bobbed his head down, his tongue slid and squeezed at the underside of Djimba’s circumcised head. Just before the foreskin-less head was gulped and choked by the virgin’s tight throat.

Djimba never made weak sounds. Ever. He hardly ever spoke. He was like the dark skinned, slanted-eyed Natives of the north. Dark people intimidated Theodore more than anything. But…but…with this man’s most sensitive “sword” in his mouth, he made the stone giant mutter a sound of weakness. Theodore always wanted to defeat Djimba. To make him react. To break him. So he wanted to try.

Theodore flattened and widened his tongue, like a U-shaped blanket. He then suctioned his lips down hard, his cheeks sucking in. He pulled his head back, his plump pink spit-coated lips sliding back along the black pole and staining spit all over it. He then swallowed hard and bobbed his head forward.

“..ehh…!” Djimba’s eyes widened in shock. He’d never felt anything like that in his life. His balls clenched and his massive pole moved upward a little. Theodore couldn’t help but smile. The master was breaking the slave. He’d break this man, by dropping between his legs and deep throating his inferior pagan cock with his superior throat. Somehow, that sounded…not…right. But, as warm and flustered as he felt right now, it kind of made sense.

“That’s it…” cooed Jessie, “…suck the poison out…”

His father had poisoned these men with that breeding tonic. And their honor required them not to masturbate. So, Theodore would make amends. He would get the poison out of them…to relieve their suffering blue balls. With his superior pink lips.

Theodore slid his hands up the muscular black thighs, mashing his fingers hard and mercilessly into the chords of rippling muscle beneath the warm, smooth black skin. Every tendon felt like iron. Like steel. And what fat was there, was only adding to the girth and strength of those powerful, bull-like thighs.

Bull.

Theodore opened his eyes, seeing the sign on the side of the pen they had found him in.

“COW”

Bull. Cow. Breeding barn.

It was so…so….GGGNNGGG!!

Another white stream shot out from his spread, squatted legs, to splash against Djimba’s unmoving legs, like the black stone pillars of a Nubian statue.

“You squirt like a woman, ya hear?” Jessie whispered gleefully in his ear. “Brown and white, squirtin’ milk all ovah that big, black Nguni bull…”

This made him almost cum again. He felt a surge of…of…something. Anger. Hate. Lust. Passion. Fury. Excitement. Wanting to dominate, yet be dominated.

With a mean motion, he bobbed his head down hard, mercilessly swallowing Djimba down inch by inch, like slowly but angrily trying to deep throat a banana. He squeezed the big ball in his hand, and gripped the base with the other, making sure his slave couldn’t escape the sloppy shackles of his throat. Theodore masterfully slaved as he whipped his tongue in lashes across the Senegambian manhood.

“EUNH!” Djimba gasped, grabbing the girly head bobbing down between his legs. It bobbed steadily, aggressively, conquering. Theodore had hit a rhythm. With imperialistic passion. To conquer all of the black meat, by gulping it all down inside his white throat.

Theodore’s entire mouth felt full. Full of hot, hard, pulsing pole. When he swallowed, he could feel the big, spongy head down deep in his esophagus, like having a big piece of food sliding down your throat a little slower than usual. His nose touched the hairless, hard groin of the warrior as he felt his lips slide and spread spit over the cock’s base. He opened his teary eyes to look up, seeing nothing but powerful, hard, black abs. They inhaled and exhaled faster and faster, all because of his white mouth strangling the black pole. He felt his tongue rub and slide along the bottom, causing the cock filling his mouth to twitch and tremble due to his expert tongue-work. Theodore lashed his tongue upon the back of the cock, forcing clear drips to leak from it as it shook and shuddered in his mouth, as if in pain.
With his lips wrapped around the base, he smiled victoriously with a smirking smile. His beautiful blue eyes looked up, absolutely savoring and drinking in the handsome warrior trembling due to his mouth. To know he, alone, was the first person to make a giant like Djimba become weak in the knees filled him with a pride and vanity he had not known before. And it turned him on more than he’s ever been turned on before.

[ I…I can’t…OH SHIT! ] Djimba gasps in Wolof, gritting his teeth and clenching his entire body up tight as if in pain. His balls throttled and jerked as the brunette gulped his head down deeper. Theodore’s lips locked and smiled at the same time. He greedily grasped at the black thighs, as the massive urethra pulsed big, small, big, small, big, small. With each “big” pulse, it filled with pure, thick, white semen. White as snow, thick as cream. With each time it shrunk, it jetted ropey streams down the masterful throat like a super soaker streaming fluid.

“Mmmmmm!” Theodore moaned, feeling the hot ropes of cum splash and pool in his stomach. He locked his lips tight and shook his head “no” nice and slow. This rubbed, squeezed and milked the cock in his throat like no other method. Djimba stood on his tip toes, balled up his fists, and clenched his massive body. He trembled and shook, gasping like a weakling as the white boy’s girly throat whirled and milked his every inch. Djimba’s eyes rolled into his head and his chest bulged. The sensation was so powerful that he didn’t know if he was going to go mad or not. Theodore swallowed loudly, making loud gulps that filled the barn and jerked himself furiously, aiming his cock head upward, as if pointing it towards the balls already on his chin. He jerked faster and harder, just from feeling the warm seed pool in his stomach. His inner thighs locked and trembled like a woman’s, and he came hard, jetting a long white rope of cum to splash right up Djimba’s inner thighs and splash the huge black balls. His own cum caught him in his own chin as well, a self-facial.

Djimba’s hand gently rubbed through his thick, straight hair. A gentleness he never thought would be in a warrior. His cheeks blushed with a new emotion. Kind of a attachment to him. He always secretly felt himself glow warm with attraction when he saw Djimba shirtless. But now, in this frenzy of sex, he felt like he could finally let loose his inner desires. Deep in the darkest, most hidden vaults of his mind…he wanted to be Djimba’s woman. He bobbed his head one more time, making a loud groan echo from the warrior before making sure he swallowed the last drop. He opened up and pulled his head back, coughing for fresh air and letting the long, black pole slide from out of his plump, wet pink lips. His saliva coated the entire length of it as his lips slid back along it’s still-hard girth. The flared-out mushroom head popped from his mouth with a echoing !POP!, before a rope of drool dripped off the head and the lips kissing it as it pulled away.

Jessie stroked her finger up the cum stains rolling down Djimba’s inner thighs, scooping up Theodore’s sperm on her long fingernail and slurping it down with a soft dominatrix’s motion. She scooped up another rope off the warrior’s leg, before sliding her yellow finger deep into Theodore’s lips. He sucked greedily, tasting his own sperm.

“That’s just ONE man…” she coos in his ear. “…there’s more.”

Theodore’s cheeks blazed red and hot as he looked out at all the muscles and huge hard cocks with too-full blue balls aimed in his direction. He smiled with a feeling of letting his greatest sexual desires burn free.

“I KNOW…”

Source: reddit.com/r/sexystories/comments/77hij0/yes_master_mm_feminization_intr_mdom