The Sweet Wife II: Maureen’s Choice by Charles Arnold
On orders from her Dominant black lover, Travis, the pretty wife and mother Maureen is rented out to the repulsive black man Sam. His job is to alienate Maureen from her husband and children, turning her into a ‘white woman for black men’. Dressed to kill, in sexy clothes and extreme high-heels, Maureen is taken to a bar where she attracts the attention of the rich and powerful Big Daddy. Even Travis bows to Big Daddy. It’s not hard to guess that this gross but charismatic black man will soon have his way with the slutty Mrs. O’Donnel. Later that night when Sam brings Maureen home, he spends the night, forcing her husband to listen from the living room, to the sounds of the two having savage sex in his own bed.
Although Maureen is torn between her family and her desires for black men, by the time the ordeal with Sam is over, she’s ready to give up family and her simple life.
She’s sent back to Travis. Oddly enough, she’s fallen in love with the man and he with her. But Maureen’s role as a whore for black men has nothing to do with love – according to Big Daddy. To keep her in line, he flies her to his estate, where she learns that her sister Eileen is also being held. He plans to make the innocent Eileen a breeder for blacks, and ensure that the sexually gifted Mrs. O’Donnel knows her place as the black man’s submissive.
The stakes are high. If the sisters don’t cooperate, Big Daddy will harm their ailing father. While Eileen becomes resigned to her fate, Maureen cannot help but rebel against the brutal and demeaning sex she’s required to perform with men she both despises and craves. Enter the fearsome General Suka and his dangerous methods of torture. When her life is at stake, will she be able to do the horrific acts demanded of her? Can the general finally win her surrender?
The graphic and detailed scenes of sexual submission are for fans of extreme female submission and degradation. They include exhibition, coercion, bondage, torture, whipping, hard sexuality and analingus.
She glanced around. She saw Sam at the end of the bar, glaring angrily at them. She wondered what he was mad about. He was the one who sent her here. She turned back to Mufta, “I don’t know what you want me to….”
He interrupted her, “Swing around here, bitch. Face me and spread your legs.” When she had done as he said, she noticed that the people near them stopped talking again and were watching. Mufta put his hands on her knees. His fingers were thin, his fingernails long and sharply pointed. “Look at my hands,” he said. “Look how black on your white skin.” Slowly, he began to move his hands up her thighs. “Hike your dress back,” he said. She pulled her dress up near her crotch and stared, almost hypnotized, as the black fingers inched along her leg. Her breathing became quicker. He’d been watching her carefully, “You like that, don’t you?”
She nodded. Her eyes were still riveted on his hands that had stopped moving just below the hemline of her dress. “Yes, I like it.”
With a quick claw like motion, he dug the fingernails of both hands into her skin. She flinched and uttered a little cry. “You liked that, too?” he asked.
She stared at the red marks where he’d almost broken the skin. “Yes,” she said.
He leaned forward looking into her face, “When we go into the blue room I’m gonna make you do things. I mean do things more than suck my prick. You know that now, don’t you?”
Rashid frowned, “Listen here, Mufta, don’t you go gettin crazy. I mean sometimes, you know how it is, you get a little weird and rough.”
Maureen glanced down at Mufta’s hands again then looked into his hard black eyes, “It’s all right, Rashid,” she said. “It’s all right.”
Mufta stood up and stepped between her spread legs. “You got a soft, sweet mouth,” he said. “I think you want to kiss me.” She tilted her head and reached up to hold his face between her hands. She groaned inwardly as her parted lips pressed his. When they separated she continued to look into his eyes. He nodded, “I’m gonna make you do things,” he said again.
“Yes, I understand,” she said. She gave him the key and followed him to the door with the blue light.
Inside he sat in the leather chair and leaning back pointed to the floor between his parted legs. Quickly, Maureen got to her knees. Mufta extend his right arm and the middle finger of his hand. “Hold it with both hands,” he said. With her hands grasping his finger the tip of it with the long dirty fingernail was still exposed. “Suck it. Suck it clean,” he ordered. She sucked. His finger tasted of sweat. She could feel the grit under the nail. He grinned at her. “Look at me while you suck. You like suckin the black man’s fingers, don’t you?” She nodded and swirled her tongue around and under the pointed fingernail. He leaned forward not smiling now, “Suck harder, bitch,” he hissed. “Take more of it. Suck it clean.” She released one hand and took most of his finger into her mouth. She could feel the sharp point of the nail against the inside of her cheek. Abruptly he withdrew his finger. She could feel her heart pounding. Her breath was coming quickly. She looked up at him, waiting.
“Show me your tits,” he said. She pulled the capped sleeves off her shoulders and pushed the top of the dress down until her breasts were bared for him. The long pink nipples became darker and stuck straight out. “You like showin me your tits?”
She had trouble speaking, “Yes, yes I do,” she said.
“That necklace and ankle bracelet of yours says you a white woman for blacks. Is that true?”
“Yes, it’s true.”
“I take that to mean you give yourself only to the black man. Maybe since you had some black cock you got to lovin it, maybe more than lovin it. I heard of some white women who worship black cock. Is you one of them?”
“I…I’m not sure,” she stammered. He leaned forward. She could see the anger in his eyes. “Yes, yes, I guess I am,” she said..
“Any black man ever leave his mark on you?”
“No, I don’t know what…”
“I want you to take this fingernail you made clean,” he held the finger out to her again, and mark one of your tits.”
Maureen felt a wave of heat spread over her breasts and flow down to her crotch. She moved closer between his legs and took the extended finger between her hands again. Looking up at him she said, “Please, I don’t…don’t know how….”
“Make a mark.” She continued to look up at him puzzled. “Draw blood,” he said.
She looked down at his finger then back at him. He placed the tip of his finger against her lips. She kissed it. “Tell me what you want,” he said.
“Your mark. I want your mark on my breast.”
“Then do it,” he ordered.
She inched closer and, holding his finger tightly with one hand, she placed the pointed nail under the nipple of her left breast. With her other hand she held the breast steady. Closing her eyes, she quickly pushed the fingernail up slightly breaking the skin. A thin trickle of blood ran over the nail and the tip of Mufta’s finger and then down her breast.
Mufta put his finger in his mouth and sucked it. “Now I got a white woman’s blood in my veins ,” he said. He handed her a Kleenex. “And what you got, Mrs. O’Donnel?”
She dabbed at the cut and wiped the blood from her breast. “I have your mark,” she said.
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