Humiliation comes in many forms in a sexual relationship, especially so for a submissive slut, which describes me. At this point, I am used to the humiliation handed out by my black masters and men, although they are rarely a turn-on for me, their needs take priority.
Michael, my first black man, and Master is a kind and benevolent man. I never feel in danger when I am with him or one of his associates, and he does not humiliate me often. Yet, this recent time it was three humiliations, where he arranged to have me dress as a whore as a “gift” to his twenty-five-year-old nephew. The last humiliation was the one that has taken me time to get used to, dressed as the whore arranging for a room at the cheap motel.
I have arranged for many rooms, most are in four or five-star hotels, where the desk attendant is uber-respectful. At a cheap motel, dressed as a whore, I am fodder for the attendant’s fantasies and derogatory words.
Michael, who moved to California a year ago, is still present as a surrogate Master. I can speak freely to him; we were once partners at the summer camp my Temple owns. My most current master accepted a position in Miami with a large hotel organization, so I am without a true Master’s. I contacted Michael, as my need to be with a strong black man has gone unfulfilled, thus he arranged the gift for his nephew.
I arrive at the cheap motel, one I have been to a dozen times. Lyle, my Master’s nephew was leaning against a car that had its best days a decade ago. Lyle was tall and lean, with short hair and a plain undistinguished face, and a short beard. I could tell from my first sight of Lyle that he was not a happy man. He pointed to the office, and I braced for the usual humiliation.
Usually, the owner was in the office, an older black man whose better days were two decades ago. His face showed the years of hard life and cigar smoking. It was the cigars that made being in George’s presence for too long intolerable. I recall the first time I entered his office, dressed as a whore in a short skirt, a nearly see thru blouse, no bra, and heels. As a practical matter and Jewish Conservative upbringing, I don’t wear heels, especially pointy three inches spikes. I must have been a sight walking on the old pavement to the office, while welfare families watched, amused no doubt.
The motel has two wings, with one filled with welfare families, the other side, which was in slightly better condition was for guests. Most of the guests were clandestine liaisons, bored spouses meeting lovers, or men paying for sexual relief.
I wobbled in the office on unsteady feet, from nerves and the spiked heels. The first time, and many times thereafter, George and his toxic cigar were in the office reading a porno magazine or newspaper. My Master has me wear a Star of David necklace and my wedding ring, which looks out of place with the whore attire, yet this was his requirement. Most black men that I have been with a fascinated about my religion, like Jewish women don’t usually act the slut.
On our first meeting, George checked me out in an obvious manner, and said in his deep gravel voice, “A married and Jewish prostitute, damn now I have seen it all.”
Pointing to a handwritten sign on the dirty back wall, which included hourly motel rates was a sign, ”No Prostitutes allowed”. He laughed and said, “For you, I can make an exception.”
Then he came out of the office and into the lobby, which was old but fancy, when the motel was a nice place for people coming out of New York City for the Jersey fresh air, long ago. George was slightly taller than me, heavy and his skin reeked of a cigar. I wanted to hide, but Michael was in the parking lot, and I wanted to be with him, so I stood frozen while George placed his gnarly fingers on my breasts, butt, and under my chin. I prayed he was not going to kiss me, and thankfully he didn’t.
He said that he could tell I am, “One of those high-priced escorts.” Oddly, I took this as a compliment, as he asked what my rate was. I was naïve, what do women charge their clients for sex, I wondered trying to conjure up a number. Instead, I laughed and told him he couldn’t afford me, and that my client was waiting in the parking lot. He looked out the smoke-stained door and saw Michael, a tall strong man wearing a suit.
He smirked and in a deriding voice said, “One of those fancy black men”.
He grabbed my butt and went into his office, asked for $100, and got a key. His rate sheet showed $45 for three hours, but he just laughed and said I can afford it. He told me it’s one of his best rooms and said he would save his money, saying, “I will have you one-day fancy prostitute!”
Michael was amused as George watched me wobble over his, with the cigar smoke now part of my clothes and skin.
Yet, I think George respected me since I took his physical and mental humiliations very well. It was a game we played, as he touched me and told me what he wants me to do for him when he gets the money. He often touched his crotch, but that was the extent of his actions.
Back to my recent visit, there I was at the motel door, sad-looking Lyle leaning against his old car, as I entered. The cigar smell was permanent, but instead of old George, there was a clean-cut young black man reading a book. He looked up and was matter-of-factly business-like. Greeting me in a clear voice, but not overlooking my necklace and scantily attire. Yet, he didn’t inquire and said his uncle does like “working girls” at his motel, as he had me fill out the registration card. I never filled out this card before and this time filled it out with fake info. Handed over $45, he slid the key through the hole in the window. They probably remind guests that they don’t allow prostitutes for some legal reason, because like George, a paying guest is permitted.
I noticed his book was a biology textbook, and he had two or three others nearby, and a notebook filled with writing and small drawings. I was intrigued and asked what he was studying, to which he replied, “Pre-med.”
Curiosity and maybe my maternal instincts, I wanted to learn more about this young man.
I asked him what he was doing working at the cheap motel. He replied he was helping his uncle while he was in the hospital. I blurted out, “George is in the hospital!”
The young man was surprised that I knew his name, and assumed then this was not my first visit to the “Star Bright Motel”. I realized then that I had feelings for George and asked more questions. Then I asked what his name was, and he replied, that his name was Jeffrey. He stood up, and I thought here it comes, was he really like his uncle, but he didn’t come out of the office. He simply said, “Nice meeting you Betty, please be careful. I will be here if you need anything.”
I couldn’t help it; I told him my name was Lisa and it was nice meeting him.
I realized I had been in the office for quite a while and Lyle was now pacing when saw me, he walked in my direction to the fancy wing of the sleazy motel, heading to room 101, and his gift from his uncle. A few welfare mothers watched me as I wobbled to the room with this young black man. I wondered what they thought, they obviously saw many liaisons in the other wing of the motel.
Lyle was soft-spoken, but I could tell he was an unhappy man, but I quickly learned he was not mad at me. It turned out he was a talker and told me that no one ever cuts him a break and that he blames others for his attitude, except Michael. He said that I was a gift because he got his GED and entered community college. He doesn’t have a girlfriend and he has never been with white women, and not an “old woman” like me either.
Old woman, I thought, a slutty whore and old too, Lyle was a charmer, not.
I got the feeling Lyle was not looking forward to sex with an old woman, and I was equally thrilled but began to undress, which was quick because I had no bra or panties. I reached for his shirt, and he backed away and undressed and surprisingly, his long moderately thick cock was already rock hard. I guess he wasn’t all that turned off by this “older” woman.
I knelt and asked if I could please him. He was not experienced as a dom, and in a deriding voice said, “Yes, of course, isn’t that is why you are here?”
When I am performing oral sex, I get so into it, even if the man is a downer, like Lyle. He must have gotten into it, with moans and his hands on the back of my head. He took a while to climax, so I asked if he wanted to fuck me. His reply was, “No way, I don’t fuck old pussy.”
Lyle had a way with compliments, but I felt relief that he didn’t want to fuck me. I could imagine why he doesn’t have a girlfriend. I wanted this over quickly, so I had him lay on his back and I continued to focus on his cock, which was his best feature. It was a gorgeous dark cock, not a lot of hair, and full balls. I enjoyed him in my mouth. Fifteen minutes later he groaned, his leg muscles stiffened, and he came strong. His grip on my head ensured that I would swallow all his thick hot seed, which I did and enjoyed.
It is a shame that Lyle has this beaten-down attitude, as I would have enjoyed pleasing him, but after he came, he stood up and dressed. He said, “You suck cock good, no wonder why Michael keeps you.” Then he left.
I lay on the bed after he left and cried, though I was uncertain why. I have been a whore before, as a role play, but maybe I felt sorry for Lyle. I have accepted that I am a slut, and I didn’t feel guilty. I would have taken a shower, but the bathroom was disgusting. I dressed feeling unfulfilled.
Then I thought of Jeffrey. He looked like a good man in an ugly scene, studying to be a doctor. He was a good-looking young man. If anyone deserved sex with this older woman, it was he, I thought. Yet, maybe he would reject me, as did Lyle, but to say I was horny was an understatement.
What I was about to do was not in my character. I have not seduced a stranger, instead, men approach me, and seduce me, since I am prey to their alpha hunting ways. Now I was considering that Jeffrey was the prey, and I was the hunter. An inexperienced hunter who was getting hornier at the thought of kneeling for Jeffrey.
I could have used a strong drink, yet I got strangely confident and started for the rust-clad office door. At that moment, a nervous-looking man walked out, and I saw him approach an equally nervous woman, an obvious affair was just beginning. I thought about my first affair, I was nervous and scared, now I am a slut and a pretend whore. I silently wished the middle-aged lovers well.
As I walked into the office and Jeffrey stood up and asked if I needed anything, calling me Miss Lisa. George could learn manners from his doctor-to-be nephew. I didn’t know what to say, I asked if he could leave the desk for a while. He looked so innocent, but as I undid my sheer blouse, he began to understand. He hesitated but with my blouse completely unbuttoned, well he was a man after all.
He told me we could go into the backroom until someone needs help and rings the bell. He told me I do not have to do this, but I told him I wanted to. He told me he has no money, and I reminded him I am not a real whore. We went into the back room, and I thought that this hunting was easy, yet I longed to be Jeffrey’s prey.
I told him to take the lead, that I was his. He admitted he had never been with a white woman and was curious. Thankfully he didn’t add “older” to his declaration. I asked him if he had a girlfriend and he said yes, also studying to be a doctor. I took off my blouse and knelt, unzipping his pants. His cock was hard and ready, and I could sense some dominance, as he felt my breasts, then moved to my hair and then the back of my head, he told me to, “Suck my black cock bitch.”
I was now back to being prey, and I enjoyed his black cock. He asked me, in a firm voice to fondle his full large balls. He began to command me to lick his shaft, his cockhead and to look up at him. He looked so powerful and strong. I was fully subservient to this young man. He told me to suck on his balls and then back in his mouth, his hips begin to gyrate faster while his grip on my head got strong.
His moans and his words, “Suck it Jewish bitch, suck it white bitch.”
Then he growled and came strong in my mouth, and I was in heaven. I licked and cleaned his cock, and I sensed he was ready for more. Just then the bell rang, yet at least he came. He asked me to stay here while he went to the office.
Five minutes later he came back saying, “Must be a good day for affairs.”
He said that I was amazing and that he was always curious about white housewives. Working at the motel, he said he has seen a few housewives meeting black men. I nodded and said, “I am addicted to black men.”
He added that he loves his girlfriend and hopes to marry her, but she doesn’t suck his cock like I just did. He even showed me her photo, another doctor-to-be and gorgeous. I hope they succeed; they will be a wealthy power couple. I also know he will want a white woman or two, give him time.
The mood was broken, but I felt satisfied and amazed at myself. I wrote my number down and handed it to him. I told him anytime he wants me, I am his, just text me.
We stood there, for an awkward moment so I reach up and held his face and kissed him, and said, “I want to be his secret fantasy.”
