Trudy’s BNWO Anniversary Gift

SERENA STEELE MONROE

For their special night, Thomas gave his beloved the gift of her deepest desire -- a strong Black Bull to worship her body, while he honored her heart.

TRUDY'S BNWO

ANNIVERSARY GIFT

© Copyright 2025 by Serena Steele Monroe

NOTE: This work contains material not suitable for anyone under eighteen (18) or those of a delicate nature. This is a story and contains descriptive scenes of a graphic, sexual nature. This tale is a work of pure fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents either are the product of the author's imagination or are used fictitiously--any resemblance to actual persons, whether living, deceased, real events, or locales, is entirely coincidental.

Trudy's BNWO Anniversary Gift

Sometimes, it's challenging to be in a female-led relationship. Your only desire is to please her, but you aren't a person who can. It wasn't long after the 27-year-old Thomas married his 19-year-old bride that Trudy told him something extremely difficult to hear.

"Tommy dear, please don't think bad of me, but honestly, you're not much good at sex."

Thomas's face turned crimson. He hung his head and struggled to respond to the statement.

"I was hoping, you being a virgin we when first made love, you wouldn't know the difference."

"Oh, you knew you were bad at fucking?" she said, and Trudy breathed a little huff of frustration or disgust. He wasn't sure which. "Have you heard of the BNWO?"

"Some," he said. "But I not small down there."

"Don't be defensive. I didn't say you weren't big enough to please me."

"Yeah, I know. I've heard about it. But really, I already support the black movements out there."

"Only with money," Trudy said.

He began to understand what she meant. He needed to do more and be open to the spirit of the movements. At that moment, he gave her all his authority and agency. Their marriage was now female-led. From then on, their relationship was hot-wife and cuckold husband.

When Damon Pride moved in next door, Trudy decided she'd found herself the Black man for them. It became Thomas's job to arrange the happy couple's trysts. She suggested to Thomas that he needed to become softer to comply with their goals. And poor sap agreed. Trudy began putting estrogen supplements in his drinks, food, and sweets.

Thomas's cock and balls suffered some serious shrinkage because of this. But he realized Trudy was willing to give everything for the cause. Who was he to disagree. But he still got hard, so it wasn't as bad as it could've been.

Three years later, they are in a happy love triangle. A 30-year-old caged husband, his 22-year-old happy hot-wife, and her 63-year-old hung black bull. The bull doesn't live with them. He lives next door. It's Trudy and Thomas's third anniversary, and Thomas has outdone himself with her gift.

Naked, impatient, biting the skin around his thumbnail, Thomas waited in front of the computer. For the third time, he opened the lid of his laptop and set it down before him, waiting for the inevitable invitation. He could barely look at the screen. The password prompt seemed a cruel taunt: Enter to join the meeting. Trudy and Damon were making him wait.

Earlier that week, when he booked the hotel, Trudy told him, "Wittle cuck might have to wait."

She said they would send the invitation whenever they felt like it, but she did say that maybe, just maybe, he could expect it after they opened the first bottle of champagne. Thomas remembered making the dinner reservations, confirming the date for the anniversary, and listened to her laugh. Booking a honeymoon suit for the two lovers. His cock constantly swelled up as he booked everything for the lovers.

He envisioned her pasty, pale white hand on his dark ebony mass mitt and sucked in air and tried to push the vision from his mind.

He felt like a kid waiting for Christmas, barely able to keep himself from pulling his hair out. Abstaining from jacking off had been Trudy's idea, and he had kept his cock in its tight little cage all week just to show her how devoted he was. He rubbed his neck and licked the key in his hand.

It tasted like a metallic sin.

In his mind, he saw them at the hotel. Trudy and Damon laughing, fucking, forgetting all about him, deciding to leave him out this time. A nerve in his thigh twitched, and he tapped the table again. His hand moved to unlock the cage, then to the keyboard.

A cable connected the laptop to the big-screen TV, and Thomas adjusted its angles, cables, and sound. One from left, and another from right, covering each side of the bed. Then there was one from the foot, one from the headboard. The monitor loomed over him, blank. Trudy and Damon might wait until morning. They might fuck all night, finish with him in person, and not let him come at all.

It was her cruelty to him he loved most.

He imagined Damon's muscular body and his own wife's moans. Imagined her down on her knees, on her back, screaming in ecstasy.

"You ready for our wittle, cucky date?" she'd asked him earlier in the week. He pictured them sipping champagne and laughed out loud when he repeated the phrase she had made him say.

"Don't be disappointed, wittle cuck."

They might never send the invite, might wait until morning to give him an orgasm. He wanted, no needed to release the cage and end this anticipation. He remembered the last time he was with them when they fucked.

"We should make him eat it again," Trudy had said the last time she made love to Damon. "Wittle cucky likes?" she asked, pushing the man's cum into Thomas's mouth.

"Think he does," Damon replied.

Over an hour passed, and Thomas saw his inbox fill with spam. Advertisements, auto-responses. His legs jiggled. He gnawed the skin around his fingers. He got up, sat down, and adjusted himself in the chair.

"Fuck, fuck-a-dee, fuck," he said, quiet and deliberate and under his breath. He stared at the motionless screen. He didn't dare open the cage. He held the key in his left hand and thumbed the keyboard with his right.

When the invitation arrived, Thomas's fingers went numb. He fumbled for the touchpad and clicked the accept button.

Four cameras came to life. The champagne was already opened, and Trudy was already on her knees. She held Damon's shaft, engulfed it in her mouth, then took it out again, her spit glistening on the wide, dark as coal, shaft. Trudy's beautiful white face, pretty ruby-red lips, and enormous cock almost made him cum without even touching himself.

Trudy's head moved up and down as Damon leaned back and smiled. He put his hands behind his neck, leaned back on the bed, and exhaled. The cock was a titan, an obelisk, far too large for Thomas's wife, far too big for any human woman. Yet she took it deep in her mouth, determined, and Thomas watched as she accommodated more and more of it.

His own five inches swelled painfully in the cage. Thomas adjusted the monitor so that it would show all four angles at once: his wife's hands on Damon's waist; the cock's path into Trudy's mouth; the smirk of her pleasure and pride; the tower of his shaft before it disappeared down her throat.

In all four frames, Damon closed his eyes and gasped.

"Fuck," Thomas whispered, his throat parched, his mouth dry. "Oh, fuck. Fuck-e-ty, fuck."

He saw them. They were real. They were flesh and blood, one a god, the other a worshiper serving him.

Trudy pulled the cock almost entirely out, leaving just the massive head inside her mouth. Her cheeks flushed. Her eyes widened. Her nostrils flared. The muscles in Damon's neck went tense as his enormous shaft quaked, and his cum blasted in long, thick, gushing streams into Trudy's mouth.

Thomas saw her filling to overflowing with the man's seed. She pulled the shaft out of her mouth, opened it wide, and moved right up to the camera. She filled every pixel of the screen.

The display turned white with Damon's cum, and Trudy swilled it down. Thoams saw her throat bulge as she swallowed again. Trudy opened her mouth another time and showed him her empty maw.

"Unlock your wittle pee-pee," she told Thomas. Her tone was breezy and casual with a cold, cruel edge he loved so much.

He reached for the cage, then hesitated.

"Hurry up, honey-kins."

Thomas unlocked the cage and bit his lip.

"But don't jack it," Trudy added, putting her face close to Damon's, whispering in his ear, grinning at the camera, leaning in for a kiss. Somehow, when they kissed, it was more inmate than anything else.

Damon rolled on top of her, and Thomas watched as her body vanished under his. The man moved his lips down Trudy's neck. Traced a trail from her collarbone to her breasts. Kissed his way down her stomach Stopping only when he reached her smooth-shaven cunt. She covered her face with her hands, and Trudy let a long, sensual moan slip to freedom for her husband's ears.

Thomas could not see Trudy's face, but he could imagine it. Her tongue would be flitting around her lips, her eyes rolling back, her body a tremor of pleasure. He held his cock with one hand and covered it with the other.

Even her hands covering her face thrilled him. Her long, slender fingers, delicate knuckles, and white perfection hid her eyes and mouth from him.

"Rember, Tommy, don't jack it," Damon said and then repeated. "Don't, don't." Breathing his words into her clit, labia, and cunt.

Trudy lifted her legs, locked them around Damon's neck, and moved her hips in a slow, rhythmic circle. Thomas knew her rhythms. He knew when she'd fuck his mouth, her second gasped groans of delight, the swelling pulse of her orgasm.

The headboard shook as she gasped, moaned, screamed. Trudy pulled her hands away from her face, arched her back, opened her eyes, and mouthed, "So, fucking good," to the camera.

Damon brought his mouth back up to her nipples, kissing every inch, and still, he did not put his cock in her. Thomas fidgeted and fumbled for the mouse.

Damon finally slid his shaft inside, and Thomas watched the massive cock stretch Trudy's opening in all four quadrants of the screen. She arched her back, and Damon held her legs above his shoulders. Thomas's cock throbbed and swelled, but his fingers stayed still.

"Such a big man-sized cock. Fuck my tight, little, white pussy, lover," Trudy whispered, breathy and excited.

"Fuck," Thomas moaned, his breath shallow. "Fuck, oh fuck." He jacked his hand over his wrist to keep from touching where she hadn't allowed.

Damon and Trudy moved with abandon, an intimacy and a determination Thomas would never know. He watched every stroke and saw the cock splitting her from every angle. She closed her eyes, rolled her head, and shook under the man's strength.

Thomas couldn't keep himself from moving his hands in tiny, painful strokes over his raw wrist.

"Go on, cucky Tommy, jerk off now," Trudy called out.

The screen went dark.

Thomas jacked off with three hard pumps. He came into his hand and on his stomach, barely touching his throbbing shaft, but he did not stop. He sat up, wiped the sweat from his neck, and watched the cum drip down his body.

"Don't be disappointed," he told himself. His voice was far, far too loud.

He jerked off again and again before Trudy returned to him, before she held him, before she asked if wittle cucky liked it.

"Yes," he said, putting his cage back on.

"Well," she said, "watch some more and do the nasties again."

The screen filled with four views of them again.

Thomas opened the cage the way a priest opened his prayer book. Slowly, reverently, with devotion and purpose. He did not touch his own himself, not yet.

On-screen, Trudy and Damon were naked, close, intimate, everything he had hoped they'd be. Trudy kept the tempo of a favorite song, a hard-hitting dance remix, as her head bobbed up and down, up and down, while she blew her lover once more.

Thomas whispered his encouragement. "Oh fuck," he said. "Oh God, oh yes."

Trudy kept the pace. She moved her lips fast along the shaft, working, sucking, determined, relentless. He watched in awe as the cockhead vanished again, again, and again.

Her tempo increased as Damon tilted his head back and grunted. Her hands gripped the shaft, and she worked more of it into her mouth, deep down her throat, until Thomas saw her knuckles reach Damon's body.

Her head kept moving up, down, up, down, up, down, and the bulge of the cock strained against her throat.

Thomas did not touch himself.

Her hand slipped from the shaft to Damon's waist, and she took even more of the cock down her throat, straining, working to give him everything she had, determined to pleasure her lover. Her devotion filled the screen, and Thomas watched in utter, trembling, submissive awe.

"Oh fuck," Damon whispered.

He saw the man's lips move as his head leaned back, and Trudy swallowed more of the shaft. "Damn, girl," he said, his eyes clenched in ecstasy.

"Fuck," Thomas added, his voice dry, parched.

He saw the massive head of Damon's cock plunge deep into Trudy's throat, saw her suck harder, harder, harder, before the older man tensed and Thomas held his breath. His cock strained with denial, and Daman whispered his own prayer to their Goddess.

"Oh, Baby girl, oh fuck oh yes."

Damon jerked, swore, groaned as he released a thick, rope-like torrent down Trudy's throat, and she pulled back until the giant cockhead was just inside her mouth. Damon came and came, his muscular body convulsing and shaking as his balls emptied their load.

Thomas's five inches sprang to life again.

Damon lifted Trudy on top of him, and she straddled his waist and kissed him hard. Her tongue explored his mouth the way her mouth had explored his cock.

"This girl can suck some dick," Damon said, catching his breath.

"I love that about her," Thomas whispered to himself. He watched them move on the bed and wondered if she'd let him eat the cum again.

"Think he loves a lot about me," Trudy said, and she winked at the camera.

"Think so, too," said Damon.

He rolled Trudy onto her back and slid down between her legs. Thomas saw her raise them high and wide, locking them around the older man's neck. Damon spread her open with his tongue. Eating his cum from her.

Thomas marveled at how Damon knew Trudy's body, how Trudy gasped and quaked and groaned with his lips on her cunt, how the older man stretched out her fantasies and pushed Thomas's own denial to its limit.

His cock grew harder than he thought possible, and he wrapped a hand around it to keep himself from doing more.

Trudy came and came and came, long before Damon even touched her with his cock again. Thomas wondered how she could orgasm like that, what Damon did that drove her over the edge so quickly, and whether he would ever be able to fuck her like that man.

Her body thrashed under Damon's weight as she came, and her hips bucked with an intensity that Thomas would never know. She wanted more, wanted it all, and Damon gave it to her. He ate her out, let her gasps become moans, let her moans become screams, let her screams become a thunderous, devastating climax, the first of many that night.

Her head rolled back, and Damon kissed his way from Trudy's cunt to her lips, up her thighs, over her tits, between her shoulders.

"Love the way you eat this white pussy," she said.

"Love eating it," Damon said, kissing her mouth.

Thomas watched, yearned, and took in every touch, every thrust of Damon's tongue, every move her black bull made. Every gasp and shudder, every arc of cum dripping down Trudy's body.

He watched from all four angles. He couldn't get enough.

Damon kissed Trudy's stomach and chest, then moved back to her waist. He slid up inside her without hesitation, let her moist warmth engulf him, and Thomas held his breath again.

He watched the cock stretch Trudy, and Thomas's cock pushed against his own hand, yearning with desperate need.

"Oh God," Thomas whispered. "Oh, God, oh, fucking shit."

Damon was inside her, holding her legs above his shoulders, and Thomas saw the expertise of his powerful, deep, skillful strokes. He could never match them, never match their intensity, never match her pleasure. He was devoted and selfless and utterly humiliated by how much he needed this, by how much they fulfilled him.

"Wittle cucky's watching," Trudy said. Her voice was so close. Thomas couldn't tell if she was talking to Damon or to him.

"Think he likes it," Damon said, grunting, driving, holding her against him.

Trudy gripped Damon's muscular arms, held them tighter than she'd ever held Thomas, tighter than Thomas held his own shaft, as it swelled and pulsed and jerked.

Thomas loved that Damon was bigger than him. He loved that Trudy's lover's cock was black. He loved that he got to watch. Thomas was ashamed of how much he loved it.

Her back arched. Her legs pulled the man deeper, deeper. Damon let her fuck his sixty-year-old body. Trudy fucked Damon with abandon. Thomas fucked the air as he panted, struggled, and prayed.

His body shook. His voice cracked.

"Cum right fucking, now, Tommy," she said.

He did, smaller ropes this time. Little rivulets jumped, and his seed spread on the floor.

They left the cameras on.

Thomas watched from all angles and knew they'd be fucking until morning. He wondered how much cum Damon would give her, how many times she would orgasm. Thomas's erection returned and was so hard it hurt, and he loved it.

His hand moved fast, precise, and desperate, and Thomas was proud of his sacrifice for the cause. He came before his third stroke but did not stop. His fingers wrapped around the shaft again, again, and again.

The clock said 11:22 when Damon went down on her again. Thomas watched, helpless, barely able to move, barely able to think. The only thing he could do was groan. It was an unselfconscious moan that said Tommy was nothing. It was a guttural moan that said Damon was everything.

He saw his wife's back arch, her lips part, and her fingers interlock as she drew Damon's head closer to her body. Her sixty-year-old Black boyfriend used his tongue with more skill than Thomas had ever had with his cock.

It was what they both wanted.

Damon had a tongue that seemed to be the length of Thomas's dick. He tongue-fucked her as Thomas could never do, never would do, never had done. His five inches strained and leaked, the motionless head rubbing against his wrist. He watched it all. He loved it all.

Damon was going down on her, and Trudy's head shook with pleasure. Thomas loved how much Trudy enjoyed Damon's body and how much she relished her husband's humiliation. He had permission to touch himself but not to orgasm.

Her white pussy was slick and swollen, and Damon buried his tongue deep inside. Trudy moaned as she pulled the older man tighter against her cunt.

"This girl can take black cock," she said as she watched the muscles in Damon's neck strain.

"Love that about you," Damon said as Trudy shook, thrashed, and groaned.

Thomas held his breath again and let her sounds fill his body. His cock jerked, throbbed, and he gripped it with both hands. He held his breath. His eyes didn't leave the screen.

Trudy panted, moaned, and gasped. She spread her legs wider, wrapped them even tighter, and rode Damon's tongue until she came, long and loud and long again.

"Fuck, Damon, fuck baby, so good, oh, shit, fuck," Trudy screamed.

Thomas wondered if he was screaming, too.

Her body spasmed. Damon kissed his way up her body and let her straddle him again.

The thought of them switching positions thrilled Thomas. It thrilled him as much as Damon's cum in his mouth, as much as watching Trudy shake and convulse, as much as every tiny thing they did to deny him.

"Fuck me again," Trudy whispered, her voice breathy and unsteady. Thomas could tell how close she was, how badly she wanted the shaft, how much Trudy needed it, how ready she was.

He admired her. He envied Damon.

They switched. Damon moved inside Trudy, his long, thick shaft glistening as it slipped inside her pussy. Thomas wrapped his hands tight around the shaft, lost himself to their passion, let it devour him, surrendered to the denial, the torment, the longing, the need.

His voice was a rasp, a whisper, a gurgling, helpless moan. "Oh God," he said, though he did not realize it.

Damon was black. Damon was strong. Damon was everything Thomas was not. Damon was exactly what Trudy wanted. He let her take control as she rode him, as she fucked his massive body, as her moans turned to screams turned to pure, unspeakable joy.

"Oh fuck," Thomas repeated. "Oh yes, oh God, oh fuck."

Trudy did all the work, but Damon gave her what Thomas never could. Her tiny pussy strained as it enveloped his cock. He watched the thrust of her hips, saw them from every angle, let her sounds fill his head and his balls with cum.

Trudy loved the way Damon let her do the work. Thomas loved the way she left him with nothing but his fist, her taunts, and the salt of Damon's seed in his mouth.

The sounds of his own voice startled him. "Fuck, fuck, fuck, fuck, fuck," he said, and his mouth was too dry to make more sounds.

They kept the feed going for hours. Trudy let Damon rest his hands behind his head, let him fill her from below, let him get the pleasure he wanted, the pleasure she wanted, the pleasure Thomas wanted.

"Fuck," Thomas whispered.

"Think I will," said Damon, pulling Trudy closer.

Damon groaned as she rode him. She leaned down, let his sixty-year-old cock sink even deeper, and kissed him hard.

"I'm gonna make you cum," Trudy told him.

"Think you are," he said, and she smiled, rode harder, moved with a devotion that Thomas loved, envied, admired. He loved it more than anything, more than everything.

"Cumming," Trudy moaned, a sharp, ragged, breathless whisper, but Thomas heard it perfectly.

"Fuck," Damon said and grunted as his body jerked with the massive orgasm. "Oh shit, oh shit. This black, cocked stallion loves you," he said as his shaft filled Trudy's pussy.

"Love you too," she said. "And you, Tommy, I love you, too."

Her voice was what Thomas loved most about her. He loved how she told him exactly what to do and never left him guessing. He loved how she said she was a queen and how Trudy meant it. Loved how she ruled his body and his soul and every inch of his submissive white manhood.

He was exhausted when Trudy came home. His wrists ached, his body shook, and she filled him with Damon's seed again.

"Get his cum out," Trudy said, pushing her fingers inside, pulling the man's cum from her opening, holding it to her lips.

Thomas was weak and nothing but a guilt-ridden white man who needed to please his wife and his black master.

"Think you know how," she said.

He did know.

"Make me cum, wittle cucky. And if you're a good white boy, I'll tell you about what we did before he brought me home this morning," Trudy said, arching her back as she ordered Thomas to not remove his cage. She lay on the bed, staring at the fan blades as they struggled to stir the dry winter air.

He turned the heat up in her absence, and now the AC ran to cool the house down to her preferred 67 degrees.

Trudy peeled her panties from her hips and tossed them at his head. They clung to his fingers in a knot of claret lace. She laughed and pulled her knees to her chest. Her thighs glistened like pale meat in the light that slipped through the velvet curtains.

"But I don't know if you'll be good. You're such a nasty lil' white boy."

Thomas pulled her lace underwear free from his hand. He tucked them into his pocket. The movement was automatic, instinctual. He'd sniff them when he jerked off the next time she allowed him to pleasure himself. He sank to his knees in the cramped room. The dark brown carpet itched him on his bony flesh.

"I'm ready," he said, an eagerness that surprised him catching in his voice.

"I'm not," Trudy said. Her laugh shifted to a sigh as she slid a hand between her legs. Trudy teased herself, touching her wetness as Thomas watched.

"Remember," she said. "Every last drop or I'm liable to give you a black baby to raise."

"I wouldn't mind that."

"Oh, it will happen, but maybe I'm not ready. Then again, maybe I am already."

He watched as she pulled a thick wad of cum on her fingers and stuck it to his mouth. He sucked them clean.

"And no brushing your teeth when you're done this time."

"And afterward, what happens then?" Thomas asked as he leaned forward, then hesitated.

"Afterward, you go back to your little room. No touching that sad, white prick, either. Not while you dine at the Y and not after until I say you can." Trudy rolled her eyes, grinning.

He sat back on his heels, trying to look sullen. But Trudy knew him too well. She had known him before Damon. When Trudy was young, Tommy wasn't so young as her, and when he pretended to be someone else. When he tricked her into marrying her before she realized how passive he was in bed. How incompetent at making love he was.

Trudy tilted her head, watching his face. "We'll see, Tommy. We'll see."

He reached for her, unsure whether she meant to reassure or mock him. Thomas felt a sharp, expectant twist in his stomach. The kind of twist it hadn't given since the first time he'd watched.

"Does he know?" he asked, leaning forward again, hands shaking.

She shrugged. "Yes, Damon knows what I want him to knock me up."

"Then--"

"Then stop stalling and start licking." She locked eyes with him. She spread her legs. Her cunt glistened. The scent filled his head with shame and longing.

He remembered watching the night before. Remembered the cheap, tinny squeak of the bed as Damon thrust inside her. The massive black hands pressed down on her shoulders as she cried out again and again and again.

The way he filled her, stretched her, took her to a place Thomas never could. He remembered hearing her through the thin walls, the long, low moan of her final orgasm rattling his bones and flooding him with familiar, burning impotence.

"Trudy, I--"

She rolled her hips, cutting him off, closing him out.

"All you need to worry about is how good I am for you right now. Stop fucking talking and get to work."

He let out a breath. He let out a whimper. He clambered onto the bed, lifting Trudy's lovely sculptured legs to rest over his shoulders. Her skin lay slick and heavy against his neck. He could taste it before he touched her, taste the thrilling, nauseating flavor of his defeat. Her wetness taunted him, a warm mix of sweat and cunt and black man's rich seed. His arms shook as he lowered his mouth to her.

Trudy groaned as he tasted her. The sound turned Thomas inside out. He longed to hear it again, stretch it out for hours, and be the man who earned those sounds. She let her hips ride the first few gentle laps of his tongue. When he grew more eager and lost his rhythm, she grabbed his hair and pushed him away.

"Softer, I don't want your sloppy, aggressive pretending to be a man bullshit. You know that," she ordered, catching her breath. "Be your passive cunt eating self, I love."

Thomas flushed, the hot red shame washing down his neck. He buried his face in her. Hoping to hide from it, that pride Thomas hadn't quite let go of, wishing to disappear and be swallowed up and finally come out the other side as the thing he was supposed to be. He found a rhythm. Tommy sought out the black seed's sharp taste inside her. He felt her heartless laugh spreading his humiliation like a fever, letting it bloom, flower, and grow.

His whiteness was the enemy, and his surrender was both a victory and defeat.

"Getting better," Trudy said. Her voice was tight and trembling. It came to Thomas as if through a fog, floating between little gasps of pleasure.

"I almost feel it."

Thomas knew she had lied to him. He'd gotten good at eating cunt, and she felt good. His tongue was doing something. Trudy lied to keep her power. He pushed her closer to the edge.

She gave his hair another yank, pulling him hard against her. The angle grew difficult, his neck strained to stay in place. He shifted, licking around the swollen hardness of her clit, avoiding it as he knew she liked, letting the tip of his tongue rest there for one split-second as he passed. She twisted on the bed, a flash of pain crossing her face as her thighs cramped, but she said nothing and kept him in place.

Thomas heard her breath hitching as she rose to meet him. He heard the thump of her pulse in her belly, quickening as she approached release. Tommy tried not to listen to the moans of another man's name as she finally broke above him. He tried to focus on how long the shudders of her orgasm shook her. Tried desperately to believe his skill did the trick and not the leftover memory of Damon.

When she let go of his hair and sat up, he stopped trying.

"It's better when you watch first," Trudy said. Her voice was soft and breathless, untroubled by his defeat. She tilted her head, making a pretense of sympathy as she looked down at him. She knew he would crawl through glass for such a small display.

"Now, sweety, that's a lot better."

Thomas lay between her legs, panting and sticky. She didn't touch him, just waited with arms crossed as the truth of her words cut his body loose from itself. When the lie of her sympathy set, she pulled him back with one foot, grinding it lightly against his chest until he could feel his bones moving underneath.

"Maybe we should stop if you won't take this seriously."

"I'm serious. Please. I want to be good for you," Thomas said. He pushed against the bed, struggling to lift himself as Trudy watched.

"Don't make promises you can't keep," she said. She settled back and watched as Tommy steadied himself and found the shape of her body again. He repeated what had worked. He gave up when it didn't, and she caught him before he fell.

He stayed with his face pressed against her. Shame's warmth and hers spread through him as he struggled to keep his rhythm. Her fingers wove themselves in his hair again, more relaxed, more forgiving as he brought her closer and closer. He reached a trembling hand down, ignoring her instruction, touching his prick through his cage with a tentative brush of the fingertips.

"Uh uh uh. Not this time," Trudy said, wagging a finger and clicking her tongue.

Thomas drew his hand back. The soft click of the key in the lock would have undone him. It would have filled the chilling room with the rank scent of failure. He licked and teased and tasted, licked and teased and tasted until Trudy's foot moved again.

Not with impatience this time but with slow and steady jerks of release. Trudy let out a long, low groan and curled her toes beneath his chin. When she finished, when her thighs unclenched and lay motionless against his ears, she rubbed the last of his efforts from her cunt with her palm.

"Oh, Thomas, so close," she said. "So close."

She slipped her feet off his shoulders and watched as he lay back, chest rising and falling, that weak and panting chest that stood out like the ruins of a siege when she fucked Damon.

"Can I please brush my teeth?" he asked.

"No. I want you to remember this time," Trudy said. She rose, all dampened silk and purpose. Trudy pulled on the long coat she'd worn home. Stepping back into her high heels, she turned to him and smiled.

"You know I know you love this, don't you?"

"Yes. We owe the black race, and this is our way of giving back to them. Well, him."

"It is still for the whole race. After all, we donate tens of thousands of dollars to black causes every year. But you love watching and the humiliation, don't you?" Trudy said as she turned to the door.

"Very much."

"Wittle cucky likes?" Trudy asked.

"Think I do. Think I really do, sweetheart," he said, rubbing his eyes.

Walking down the stairs, with him gawking, naked and cold, from the landing. Trudy smiled as she opened the door. Her heart was with Damon. She stepped out into the snow. Shutting it behind her, she trudged through the deepening snow. Pushed the doorbell and waited breathlessly for him to open up and let her inside.

A few minutes later, when the phone rang, Tommy answered and put it on speaker.

"Yes," he said, his key already in the lock.

"You can listen in whack off while we fuck. Unlock it now," Trudy said, and Damon added his approval.

"Thank you, Damon, sir," he said.

For Thomas, the next thirty minutes were glorious.