Preface

While I am new to reading and writing erotica, I was moved to do so because I so rarely see realistic Black women as primary characters in erotic fiction. Less so, do I see them as a willing submissive. Celeste was born to address that void.

Fantasy is a method of reaching into the deep subconscious. It is a way of safely giving voice to our deep seated fears and other strong emotions. It is also a method for resolving those issues or allowing them to be given release so the drive to action is not as strong.

Issues of race and racism are some of the deepest fears we as a society have. As a Black woman, I am interested in examining the way in which race and racism affect the sexual psyche. For me, Celeste is a method of understanding gender and race roles against an internal landscape which is riddled with the storms of sexual context.

Journal Entry -

Late at the office again. More charity work. It looks good for the firm. It looks good for me.

I’m feeling pretty smug. I’m smart and I’m beautiful. When I can’t get over with my brain, I get under with my looks. I turned 25 six months ago. I’m a junior partner at a good law firm. I’ve paid my dues and then some.

I graduated first in my class from both Wellesley and then Harvard Law School. For kicks, I’m thinking about slacking next year. Maybe I’ll take an average case load and get my MBA. Yeah, that’s right. Slacking. I work harder than anyone in my office.

I still hear my father’s deep rumbling baritone mantra: “The only protection against racism, Celeste, is irrefutable excellence.”

All right, I’ll admit it. I’m only thinking about the MBA because ... well because ... I’ve got to find a way to meet some more eligible men. And it’s enough of a challenge to keep me from getting bored. And the Great Good Goddess knows, I’m getting bored. I’ve got a case of ennui and horny so bad they might have to medicate me.

It’s not as if I’m bad looking. I stand about 5’7” in heels. My body is round in all the right places. When Creator put my parts together, he must have had good plans laid out for some man. My melon sized breasts make my trim 24 inch waist look even smaller. People are always asking if my tits are real because I’m so trim and they’re so big and perky. But, just like my job, I work hard at taking good care of my breasts. I lift weights so they stay nice and high. The small brown nipples contrast nicely with my creamy caramel colored skin.

I hear the whispers at the Black Bar Association. Some folks say the only reason the firm took me was because I’m high yellow. They think I get ahead faster because of my light brown skin. All that proves is somebody’s great granddaddy got forceful and randy with my great grandmama. My hips are full but not too full. Not quite an hourglass figure ... my hips are too small ... but close. I started growing dreadlocks when I was in high school. They’re all the way down to my ass now. And they have the nerve to talk about my creme brule skin with their hair weaves and corpse lookin’ temporaries? Puhlease!

My ass is the feature that attracts men. I’ve got the highest, roundest most typical African ass ever given to a woman. Something about my ass makes men want to get in there.

But, I’m saving that for marriage.

Good lord, with the fantasies I have I hope that will be soon! I fantasize a lot. Maybe that’s why I’m keeping this journal. I need some way to sort myself out. I’ve already cycled through every eligible bachelor in town. I don’t really get to spend enough time with people who are my intellectual equal. I guess I’m lonely and hungry for a new relationship. Something deep, profound, intellectually engaging.

Sigh. Half hour before I have to leave for the meeting. I’m wearing that conservative coat dress today. Looking forward to seeing Marty Masterson at the meeting. The dress is held together with two little buttons. If one of them popped off, I’d be arrested for indecent exposure! It turns me on knowing this respectable looking dress is so flimsy that at any moment anyone could discover I look like a porn slut. Besides, it shows off my ass incredibly well. My clit feels tingly. I feel a bead of moisture dripping out of my tight cunt. I’m going to get a charge out wearing this in front of Marty Masterson tonight. That’s why he really wants to date me. I know that’s why white men love Black women. They can’t wait to get in our asses.

Asses. Now there’s something. In my fantasies, I always picture myself on my wedding night kneeling on all fours before my perfect ebony husband. The husband of my fantasy world is always a tall muscular dark-skinned man. Uh oh ... mind drift ... better not write this down.

I close my journal. Check the door to my office is locked. A quick glance at my watch shows I’ve got enough time. Oh yeah ... ebony prince ... debonair

New Afrikan ... Black superhero ... my husband ... honeymoon. I put my foot up on my desk. My hand slips into my red silk panties.

I’ve met my dream man. It’s our honeymoon. I am nervous and a little jumpy. I feel bad that I don’t have my virginity to give him as my wedding present. My ass is the last untouched place on my body. Deep in my heart,

I know he would have preferred to marry a virgin. So, I am opening the most private part of myself for his pleasure. I imagine him stroking the tight puckered hole with his fingers. His finger strokes my wet clit. Two slender long digits dip into my tight pussy. They circle making my pussy emit wet swishing noises. My back arches like a heat crazed bitch.

He kisses my back. His languorous tongue travels slowly up my spine. He blows on the wet trail. My skin tingles with a chilled rush of excitement. His other hand reaches around and toys with my hard nipples. He flicks their tip. Pulls on them. An electric bolt of passion races down from my nips through my stomach connecting with my clit.

My moans grow deeper. Animalistic. Pre-historic. Tribal and primal.

He inserts another finger and another until all four fingers fuck my dripping cunt. Too much pressure. He is stretching my tight cunt more than its ever been. But, I love it. My muscles tense and spasm with the supreme way he fills my hungry pussy. Invading. Conquering. Making my cunt conform to his shape. My nipples pucker and wrinkle under his fantastic stroking and pinching. My skin flushes. Tiny pinpricks of sweat erupt from my pores. I glisten under his touch. Surrender to whatever he wants from me.

My hips rock back against him. Synchronize to his delicious rhythm.

“Oh yeah, you feel so good.” I purr at him in a husky voice.

Suddenly, he grabs my hair in his hand. Yanks my head back. I feel his warm breath on my neck as he leans down and whispers, “Slut. You’ll groan and grunt for any stud that tickles your loose hole, won’t you?” Shocked, embarrassed and hurt, I whine, “That’s not true! I’ve worked hard to keep my pussy tight.”

“That’s okay slut. I’m going to ride you like no man has ever ridden you before.”

He draws his pussy slick fingers up to my quivering ass. Roughly pushes his finger inside my tight hole. I wince and gasp. It hurts. I try to pull away, but he has wrapped my long locks around his wrist like reins on a horse. He works his finger roughly in and out of my virgin hole. Jerks my head back even more forcing my back to arch. He pushes his fingers deeper into my ass. They burn. I am suddenly afraid that his thick twelve inch pole will tear the muscles. His cock slides between my legs. I feel its smooth head rubbing against my wet lips. A dribble of pre-cum slides down my thigh. He pulls my head back even further. I have to remind myself that I love him and trust him. I can’t imagine why he would treat me so brutally.

He slips his hard cock inside of my pussy. Slowly, rhythmically he plunges in an out. His delightful rock-hard passion-plunger teases my soaked horny cunt. His breath quickens. His cock is moving so slowly, so delicately. Reaching deep. Stroking all of the right places. Setting my nerve endings on fire while his finger harshly drills at my tense asshole. He is making a cocktail of pain chased by exquisite pleasure. The tremors begin deep inside my cunt as I begin to cum. I’m panting hard between staccato moans of ecstasy and pain.

“No.” He growls, abruptly pulling out. He has fucked me to the edge of an ecstatic cliff. I try to wriggle my hips to get him back inside of my pussy. He slaps my ass hard. I cry out.

His harsh voice firmly states,
“You...”
Slap.
.” ... will...”
Slap
.” ... take...”
Slap! SLAP!
.” ... what...”
Slap!
.” ... I SLAP! give SLAP! you...”
“And SLAP! nothing SLAP! more.”
“Is that clear?”

“Yes,” I whisper. Who is this monster I married? I try to look at him. He yanks my head back so all I can see is the ceiling. My scalp burns and tingles.

He hand crashes down on my firm round ass harder. My ass tingles from the heat from his hand. Gently, tenderly he runs his hand up my spine. His finger sweetly teases the tip of my nipple. I ease back rubbing my clit against the broad head of his cock. I feel the orgasmic waves building again. Suddenly, he pinches the hard brown nubs. Hard. Mercilessly. Pain shoots through my chest.

“Not until I tell you.” He rolls my nipple between his fingers. Then squeezes them hard. He leans in, his the slick chest pressing against my back. His voice is a hot, harsh, moist, gravelly whisper flicking against my earlobe. “From now on, you will call me, Master. Is that clear?”

I am strangely turned on by his forceful assertiveness. My cunt is wetter than it’s ever been in my entire life. I just want him to keep giving me this sweet twisted pleasure.

“Yes, Master.” My mind is reeling. What have I gotten myself into? I waver between thrill and the sudden knowledge that I ought to begin divorce proceedings tomorrow.

“I knew you were smart. That’s why I married you.” He says flatly. “Because you caught on so quickly, I’m going to reward you by fucking your ass. Say thank you.”

“Thank you, Master.” I say quivering with fear and anticipation.

“Good girl. You can cum now.” He tweaks my clit as a reward. The pleasant sensation so quickly after this woeful surprise personality trait sends me over the edge.

He releases my hair. I fall onto my elbows as the orgasm takes over my body. The flashing heat against my perfect globes surprises me as his hand slaps repeatedly against my ass. His finger on my clit triggers wave after wave of ecstasy. “That’s right slut Every pleasure has it’s punishment.”

His thick twelve inch cock presses between my cheeks. Impatient against my now very tense hole. I’m terrified it will permanently stretch me. This is not the tender deflowering I had anticipated. He forces the knob into my semi-dry hole. I scream. He laughs and grabs my hair again pulling me up again on all fours. I can’t believe I’m allowing him to treat me so brutally. His other hand settles on my left hip. With one powerful jerk forward, his cock batters my virgin sphincters.

My barriers shredded. My asshole burns. It feels as if his cock is so deep it is up under my heart. I’m afraid his huge piston will disembowel me or split me in half. I whimper.

I’m barely able to pant. “Please stop, Master.” Just having him in my ass, not moving, sears. Burns. Red stars burst against my closed eyes. Pain. Rockets of agony. Hurts.

My teary eyes are hopeful and relieved. He pulls out. I scream. His prick is on fire. A sharp blue flame burning me from the inside out. He pauses.

I look over my shoulder at him. Just the tip inside doesn’t feel as bad.

“Stop?” he asks.

He jerks my head back and forth, making me nod.

“Please, Master. Please stop,” I whisper.

He laughs a low throaty grunt of a laugh. Slams into me harder. Again the white heat rips me open. My heart bangs wildly in my chest. He is so deep inside of me. I howl with dismay and agony. He slams into me again and again. Faster and faster. I weep. Almost on the edge of passing out. He pump my delicate hole like a merciless jackhammer.

“Oh, this is better than virgin tight. I knew I did the right thing marrying you. Tell me you love it.” He says.

I can not say anything. Tears flow down my face. I grope for consciousness.

“Tell me you love it,” his voice is insistent. When I don’t answer he pulls completely out of me. I sigh with relief. Maybe he knows this little game has gone too far. Then, his cock is there again invading, pumping, pummeling my ass. His hand diddles my clit again building the pleasure. It has started to feel good. His piston has forced my body to yield willingly to its punishment. My hips begin to rock against him.

I find myself whispering, “I love it.”

“What?” He says.

“I love it,” I say louder between moans of mounting pleasure. His finger on my clit feels so good! His cock pumping in and out of my newly opened nether hole makes me feel open to his every whimsy. I sense that if I serve him well, I will be cherished, protected and loved. I won’t have any other worries than pleasing my master. I wonder where these perverse thoughts are coming from. But, it excites me so much.

His twelve inch ebony cock sliding in and out of my now stretched hole sends small ripples of pleasure through my whole body. His finger insistently cajoles rhythmic spasms of pleasure. I’m straining not to cum. His fuckpole thrusting so deeply inside of me makes my eyes water up with tears of unbounded pleasure.

“Who am I, Celeste?” he asks.

“You are my husband. My Lord and Master.”

His arm reaches around and pinches my nipples lightly. The sensation is like an light switch turning on the most intense orgasm I’ve ever had in my life.

“Yes, Celeste. Cum now! Yes!” he shouts, “Cum for your Lord and Master.” I cum as he shoots his frothing white seed deep inside of me.

The alarm on my wristwatch goes off. “Damn,” I say aloud to the empty office. I gather up my briefs and sigh. I wish this is what would really happen on my wedding night. I slide my soaked fingers out of my panties and sigh. Where would I ever find such a progressive brother? I can’t even imagine telling one that had these master/slave fantasies. Talk about politically incorrect!

My thoughts turn to Marty Masterson. I bet Marty would love nothing more than a Black slave begging him to fuck her up the ass. I smile wistfully.