Courtney Needs More Ch. 01

NOTE: As usual, this a perverted interracial cuckolding story. I'm not going to give away all the perversions that are in it, or its angle. It's not too different from my usual fare. Read it at your own risk. I hope you enjoy!

EXTRA NOTE: I took this down for a few days after some helpful fans pointed out some problems with the editing. I've worked on it a bit more, too. I hope those of you who read it before like it even better now!

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Hi, I'm Courtney. I'm a cute, thirty-two-year-old professional woman, married four years--as of the start of this story. My husband, Ron, was also thirty-two. He's nice looking, too.

Like most women, I suppose, I tend to be self-critical about my appearance. But realistically, I am quite attractive. From age 18 to age 27, when I met my husband, I went from one boyfriend to the next. Any time I had a break up, some other attractive guy was available to date. I guess I can admit they're right: Besides having a pleasant personality, I'm pretty.

My face is cute, and I have shoulder length dark brown hair and bright blue eyes that complement them well. My curves are a sexy 34D-25-37, and I have a cute butt. My limbs are thin, which may not be every guy's thing, but lots of guys seem to like it. At 5'7", I'm on the tall side.

Some people say I look like Jennifer Love Hewitt but with blue eyes. Both my face and figure are similar to hers.

I'm also kind, sweet, good-natured--and horny. All that also seems to make me appealing to men. Why wouldn't it, right?

As for Ron, in most ways he is a "catch." Tall, nice-looking, sweet, hardworking, and accomplished. On paper, a woman couldn't ask for a better husband.

As for Ron and I, our relationship is "fine" mostly. We get along well, and are generally happy together. We had started to talk about trying for kids soon. Waiting one more year--until we both finish grad school--seems to be our prevailing thought.

Unfortunately, for a few years now, we've been in a sexual rut. Or--to be more open about it--I have been in a rut ever since I met Ron!

Sex with Ron just does not do it for me--it never has.

You are probably thinking that I have myself to blame--and you would be right, alas.

I agreed to marry Ron even though I was only mildly attracted to him, and the sex wasn't very good--not even in the beginning.

In fact, Ron never, ever managed to make me cum. Not with his thin little five-inch dick. Not even with his tongue--which lacked both stamina and finesse.

I agreed to marry Ron because he was such a solid guy and kind, and my family liked him--and he had good prospects. He was the first "nice" guy I had dated after a string of jerks--and I worried I might not ever meet another nice man at that point!

When I was twenty-eight, and Ron proposed, he seemed like the most "suitable" husband I might ever meet. And I really wanted to settle down.

You can call me a sucker, but I love Ron anyway--even though sex is important to me, and sex with Ron is... well... in a word... terrible. Just awful!

For a long time, I simply snuck around with dildos and vibrators and made do with self-pleasure.

When this story started, I had just finished increasing the size of my dildos.

When I first saw a thick eight-incher in the online catalog that my pal Louise had recommended, six months back, I thought to myself, "Naw! I bet this will be too big!" But I was curious, and so I bought one. I was wrong! I loved, loved, loved it! I loved the length--and loved the thickness!

A month after that, I said to myself, "Hmm... This eight-incher really surprised me, maybe I should try nine?" So I bought a nine-incher. I loved, loved, loved that one even more!

Fast forward to three months ago, and I had started plowing myself regularly with a whopping ELEVEN-inch dildo--and I adored it! It brought me incredible orgasms!

Something told me to pause there--call it womanly intuition, I guess--and so I did.

I've been sticking with my fabulous eleven-incher, which I call to myself my "Maximus" dildo. It seems like the "maximum" sensible size, is why.

But still, as amazing as my Maximus dildo is, it also underscores the absence of the "real thing."

Nope. A big dildo is simply NOT as satisfying as a big cock. It just isn't.

The biggest cock I'd ever had in real life was almost the size of the eight-inch dildo--WAY bigger than my poor Ron's little dicklet... so much bigger than him. (Unfortunately, it had come attached to Andy, who turned out to be a womanizing asshole!)

"I wonder," I would think to myself. "Now that I've taken such a gigantic dildo regularly, I wonder if I could take an equally big real-life cock? You know, I bet I could! It stands to reason that I should be able to! And fuck! FUCK! *That* would be hot!"

Quite unfortunately, instead of fully satisfying me, my Maximus dildo made me more sexually frustrated with my husband's little dick than I had ever been before.

My Ron's little five-inch dick now seemed like a twig to me. And with my Maximus dildo having stretched me out for three months now, I could barely feel Ron's tiny dick when he put it inside my pussy.

No--I wouldn't even call it "fucking" or "sex," Ron's insertion was so uninteresting me.

Rather, it seemed just to be "Ron inserting his little dick for his amusement."

If Ron noticed my looser pussy, he didn't say anything. He still managed to cum when we would insert his dick.

I'd simulate being interested and excited to the best of my ability--as a loyal wife should.

I would pretend to cum--always it was pretending--and right afterwards, like clockwork, Ron would cum.

Still--even after five years of mounting frustration--I still didn't want to leave my husband. I can see myself enjoying raising a family together, and growing old together. I do love him!

I just really needed a fix for the pathetically unexciting and totally unsatisfying sex with my Ron and his little thin dick.

I was feeling at a loss as to what to do. Sneaking around and cheating didn't seem like a very good plan, for example!

I told my therapist about the problem, and she didn't seem helpful at first.

"Courtney," she'd say. "It's probably in your head. If you focus more on your love for your husband, you should be able to have good sex together... Or open up to him, invite him to use your toys on you!"

"But, Doctor! I just can't see myself suggesting that!"

Finally, after going around in circles with me for a few sessions, Dr. Elppin came up with a referral. "Courtney," she said, "Clearly, I'm out of my depth on advising you for your sex life, and a referral is in order... I don't know how she does it, but this Dr. Peters I networked to is supposed to work wonders as a sex therapist, here's her number. She's expecting your call."

I called Dr. Peters, and made an appointment. She wasn't available for three weeks, and I was just glad I didn't have to wait longer.

"Come see me by yourself," she said. "I want to hear the problem from your perspective first, Ms. Montiv, before I hear at all from your husband. Be sure to complete this online quiz I'll be sending you, truthfully and fully, in advance of our meeting. You'll want to be alone. It gets quite personal and provocative."

The quiz shocked me to say the least! It asked quite extensive details about my sexual history, turn-ons, turn-offs, and also about Ron.

Then I went to see Dr. Peters. She spent a few minutes validating some of my survey results and gauging if I really did want to stay married.

"So your husband has really never been able to make you cum, not ever, Ms. Montiv--or may I call you 'Courtney'?"

"No, not ever-- and yes, please call me 'Courtney,' doctor."

"And you fake it for him?"

"Yes, every time."

"And you say that you'd like to stay together, right?"

"Oh, definitely. Ron is such a dear. And so loyal and dependable. And he cares about me so deeply."

"And it says here... You've had your best sex with your best-endowed sex partners, right?"

"Oh, yes. Definitely. I feel bad saying so, but definitely."

"And you miss that full feeling?"

"Well, my dildos sort of provide it, but it's not the same..."

"I understand, Courtney. I understand... And you're attracted to black men but never had one. How come?"

"I'm not sure. I guess I've never been approached in the right way. I don't know."

"I see. And you and Ron... You never share fantasies or watch any porn together... You just have straight sex."

"Yes, I just feel too awkward starting any sex talk with Ron. You see, he's very shy and awkward about sex, and I don't want him to think that I'm a tart or lose respect for me."

"I see... So... Remind me, Courtney--and yourself--why are you here?"

"I want a better sex life, doctor!"

"Are you open to whatever my advice might be--whatever my opinion might be? I've worked with a thousand couples, and I do have a good idea about your situation."

"Yes!! Please, doctor! Please tell me whatever it is!"

"Even if it's going to shock you?"

"Yes! Even if it's going to shock me. Please tell me!"

"Well, the first thing you need to get your brain around is that there is no way that your dear Ron is ever going to become an adequate lover--not for you at least... No way. Not ever."

"What?! You can't coach him? You can't help him learn how to be better in bed?"

"Nope! No--I *could* coach him... But it wouldn't matter if I did!"

"What?! And why not?! Dr. Elppin said you are the best at this!"

"Dr. Elppin is right. I am the best at this. And one of the reasons I am the best at this is that I know not to try for the impossible... You're a woman who CLEARLY needs to get fucked by big cocks... And, being realistic about it--given that you're now used to an enormous eleven-inch dildo--you probably do need massive BLACK cocks... White men simply are not well-hung enough--not even the biggest of them... And there's no way to *coach* your husband into becoming a black guy with a massive black cock, is there, Courtney?!?"

I shivered as I heard the words "massive black cock"--not just once, but twice--in what my new therapist had just said to me.

In my heart of hearts, I knew the doctor was right! I *craved* big black cock! I desperately needed to get fucked by the biggest cocks--and everyone knows that those are black cocks!

I shivered. I blushed. I started breathing more heavily. My nipples got hard and pointy under my dress and bra... And I'm sure my pussy also started to juice.

Dr. Peters noticed right away. "Hearing me call it out for you is turning you on, Courtney, isn't it?! You're aroused to hear me talk about getting you fucked by massive black cocks, big black cocks, aren't you??"

"Uh... What? Uh.... Yeah, I guess so, Doctor!" I fumbled awkwardly at being called out by the doctor. "It *is* definitely turning me on! It's exciting to hear you call it out so clearly!! But! But! But if I *need* big black cock, does that mean my marriage is over? Does it have to end?"

"Well, this is where my more advanced knowledge comes in, my dear... No, your marriage does NOT have to end... far from it."

"Oh??"

"Yes. There are definitely ways of rescuing the marriage of a real woman like yourself--a gorgeous, sexy woman like you-- who just happens to *NEED* big black cock! Even as she stays married to a white guy with a little dick! But... our time is up for today, Courtney. Would you like to set a time to continue to discuss?"

"Oh, yes, doctor!" I replied enthusiastically. "Very much so!" And so we set a time for the following week.

"Hi, Courtney," Dr. Peters began our next session. "Good to see you again... And how have you been feeling this past week, might I ask? How has your sex life been?"

"Not that different, I guess," was my reply.

"Still relying on your massive dildo and vibrators, Courtney?"

"Yeah."

"Anything feeling at all different?"

"Well, I guess so."

"Please, do tell!"

"I'm thinking all the time-- I mean literally *ALL* the time-- about getting fucked by big black cocks! I practically can't even get any work done! Getting black-fucked is all I think about now! I've even started watching porn after Ron goes to bed!"

"Ah! I see!" Dr. Peters remarked. "Yes... This is not that surprising, Courtney... You see, now that your doctor has called out your need with you--brought it front and center with you--your mind feels free to focus on it."

"'Free'? 'Free'?!?! There's nothing 'free' about it, Doctor! I literally can BARELY think about anything else!"

"Well, Dear," the doctor responded. "That can happen when a need-- a deep, true, powerful need-- has been deeply suppressed but at last comes to the surface. What this is telling you is that you truly do *need* to get blacked-- blacked by really big black cocks-- and nothing less."

"But you said I could probably keep my marriage... I'm confused... How is this supposed to work?"

"Have you heard of 'cuckolding,' Courtney?"

"I'm not sure... I think so... but I'm not sure if I know the right meaning."

"Would you like me to explain it to you?"

"Yes, sure... Please!"

"Cuckolding is where the woman in a partnership--often a marriage but not necessarily--takes on a new lover or lovers and the man in the partnership becomes subordinate. Sometimes the man watches or maybe he just hears about her lovers."

"Oh, wow! That's what I thought it was... And people really do this?"

"A great many people, Courtney."

"And this is what you think would be best for Ron and me?"

"If you are to stay married, Courtney, in fact I think cuckolding is your ONLY choice! I think you're just too sexually frustrated to proceed another way... Doesn't it seem that way to you, too, dear?"

"I guess that's right."

"The question for you, Courtney, is the *kind* of cuckold that Ron could become."

"What do you mean?"

"Well, there are different kinds of cuckolds. Not every cuckold is the same."

"Oh... How so?"

"Well... Some watch. Some don't. Some still have sex with their women partners. Others don't. Some become bisexual or even gay. Others don't. There are lots of possibilities."

"Oh... I see. Wow, there's a lot to think about, a lot to learn about, I guess."

"Yes, it's a lot to learn about, I'm sure. I understand that this is a lot... You're doing great so far, Courtney, if it helps to know! You're doing a terrific job at working on your sex life!"

"Thanks, Doctor Peters!" I replied. "I suppose you really are helping... Thinking about enormous black cocks all the time... that will fade, won't it?"

"Good, Courtney. I'm so glad you feel like I'm helping... As for your newfound black cock obsession... time will tell, but I expect you will make your peace with it... In. Due. Course! If you're like the rest of us who need BBC--and I do count myself in this camp, by the way--you will always think about getting blacked a lot. You'll think about it a lot more than you thought about sex previously, that's for sure! But you will also find a way to function, to get your job and studies done, to take care of your personal chores. It shouldn't be crippling."

"Well that's a relief to hear!" I offered, with a very, very big exhale. "So what's next, Doctor?"

"Well... We know you need enormous black cocks... What remains to be sorted out is what kind of cuckold Ron might become."

"Is it up to me rather than up to him?"

"Good question, Courtney. Good question! Indeed, many women I work with, when we start them on a cuckolding journey, are surprised to learn... It's just really variable, and it's best if a highly trained sex therapist like myself helps guide..."

"Oh? So, you navigate this rather than me?"

"Well... Depending on what I learn when I interview Ron... it might obviate certain options... Or even force a choice... And I'm equipped by training and experience to have that exploration with your husband... It would be too much to expect you to manage it!"

"I see!" I replied. "I guess that makes sense! And what happens then?"

"Well-- high-level... it can go one of two ways... More likely, there's some type of cuckolding that will work for your little-dicked husband. Most small-dicked white guys have cultivated a desire to subordinate their needs to their woman's needs, luckily... You can thank interracial porn for that! But... but... but there is some chance that it could lead him to leave you... This is not a risk free situation, my dear! Far from it! Yes, you will end up with your sex life restored--that much is sure... But your marriage? It might or might not make it... We'll try to maximize the odds for you."

"Wow, Doctor!" I said. "This is a lot for me to get my brain around!"

"Yes, it is a lot of new information to process--including some difficult information--I'm sure... I understand that this is a lot... You're doing great so far, Courtney, if it helps to know! You're doing a terrific job at working on your sex life! How does this all sound, Courtney? Are you still on board?"

"To be honest, doctor? It sounds kind of scary. I don't want to lose Ron! But if I'm really honest... Even more, it sounds exciting! It makes me feel hopeful! I like the idea of making Ron my cuckold! Especially after all these years of shitty sex, I like it as a kind of revenge that he should become my cuckold!"

"In my experience, Courtney... That attitude will serve you well! That bit of self-importance! That bit of selfishness! That will serve you VERY well in rebuilding a satisfying sex life for yourself!"

"So what next, Doctor?"

"Next, I need to meet with Ron."

"Oh!" I said with slight surprise. "But I guess that makes sense!"

"Yes," Dr. Peters continued. "I know enough about you and your needs for now. I need to start to get to know Ron, to explain the situation to him, to learn his needs, and to guide him into his new role."

"Yes, that makes sense."

"Good, Courtney. I'm glad."

"But how? He has no idea that I'm seeing you!"

"Oh, yes, this is an awkward moment, I know. Does Ron know that you're in therapy?"

"Oh, yes, doctor."

"And is he supportive?"

"Very much so. He's been in therapy sometimes, too."

"In that case, just tell him that I asked you to bring him in, that I thought he would be able to help you 'make more progress.'"

"Sure! I can do that! And then you'll talk with us together?"

"I think I'll excuse you to the waiting room after brief greetings, but yes--we can start together. We should plan on an extra long session. I'll also bring you back in at the end."

Fast forward two weeks, and Ron and I were heading to the appointment with Dr. Peters.

"Boo," he asked me multiple times on the car ride over. "Can't you tell me what this is about, specifically?"

"Sorry, Dear!" I replied, patiently. And then I explained that the doctor felt it best if she led on the content.

After quick greetings when the appointment finally started, the doctor excused me to her waiting room.

I had thought about being sneaky and leaving a microphone behind so I could listen in, but realizing that I'm not a very good actress--outside, of course, of faking orgasms-- I thought better of it. "What if I learn something that really surprises me?" I thought. "I would never be able to contain myself when I rejoined them!"

As twenty minutes turned into twenty-five, I got anxious waiting. Finally, after exactly thirty-seven minutes and some seconds, the doctor had me back in her office as well.

"Thanks for rejoining us, Courtney," Dr. Peters began. "I've had a very positive and useful discussion with Ron just now. Ron, would you like me to summarize it for Courtney, like we discussed?"

"Please, doctor," my husband said. "That would be great."

"Well, Courtney, Ron also is dissatisfied with your sex life. Quite dissatisfied! And while his ideas may not be exactly what you and I have been talking about, I think we can map out a plan that will be satisfying to you both. Would you like me to explain?"

"Please!" I said, plaintively. Boy, was I eager and nervous to hear!

"It's like this, Courtney. Ron also has been frustrated for some time. You see, he can tell that you're not satisfied, and that's been ruining sex for him, too, even though you put out... And he says that you've shot him down any time he's tried to discuss it with you... So I guess it's a very good thing that you two now have me involved."

"I had no idea!" I blurted. "I thought I was sparing your feelings, Boo!" I used our affectionate nickname that we shared with each other.

"I know, Boo!" Ron responded, kindly. "I understand."

"It's nice to see you being understanding of one another," the doctor interjected. "That's a great basis for moving forward. Shall I continue?"

"Yes, please!" my husband and I said in near unison.

"Well, I guess I'll get as straight to the punchline as possible, and then we can discuss... So, Courtney, Ron understands that you need to get fucked by enormous black cocks--a steady diet of them, to be blunt-- and not just his little dicklet... He gets it. He knows they are the center of modern sexuality nowadays, and that most women your age crave black cock--albeit sometimes secretly... But your husband is not interested in being a typical cuck. No. Far from it... Instead, he wants to become your 'Master.' He wants to own and dominate you, Courtney! It can be with the understanding that you eventually will need to get fucked by enormous black cocks... but Ron wants you to 'earn' it first... His feeling is that if you're going to be a 'BBC whore' and 'wifeslut' yet want him still to provide for you, the least you can do is let him have the satisfaction of directing it--and of you putting out more for him, as well... I know this probably comes as a big surprise to you, Courtney."

"To say the least, doctor--and Ron! This is *not* what I had in mind! I thought you were going to become my 'cuck,' dear!"

"Yeah... Sorry, Boo! I'm a lot of things, but I'm not a patsy! And while I'm glad to see our sex life pivoted in an exciting new direction, it's going to need to be on my terms, too."

"For real?" I queried.

"Yeah," my husband replied. "I've long thought it would be hot to watch you fuck massive black cocks, but I still need to be the man of the house, dear!"

"Doctor," I turned to Dr. Peters next. "You never mentioned this kind of possibility. What the heck?!"

"Indeed, Courtney," she replied. "This is quite unusual. Much more often, small-dicked husbands like Ron watch a lot of cuckold porn and are excited to become beta cucks... but once in a while--very rarely!--a husband will have Ron's reaction... My suggestion is that you roll with it, sweetheart. He is--after all--promising you that you'll be able to 'earn' your way to BBC, like you so desperately want-- and need!"

"You're going to have to really earn it though, Courtney," my husband chimed in. "For example, you're going to have to do all kinds of sex acts that haven't so far been on the menu for me--and also 'do' a variety of folks I have in mind... not all of them with BBCs, far from it. Oh... And also, you're going to have to tolerate me calling you appropriate nicknames to put you in your place."

"What kind of nicknames, Boo?" I asked.

"Oh, I'm not even sure yet," he said. "Certainly the basics, like 'bitch,' 'cunt,' 'whore,' 'slut'... I'll probably come up with some unique ones, too... for starters, I think I'm going to default to calling you 'slut' from now on... after all, you do want to be a 'slut' now, don't you, Boo?"

"Yeah, that's fair, I suppose," I replied.

"Good, slut," my beloved husband responded with a big smile. "Honesty between us is going to be important in this new life phase... A *lot* more honesty than we have had so far!"

"Oh," my new Master continued, "and you'll need to be addressing me more formally, as some mix of 'Husband,' 'Master,' and 'Sir'-- not 'Boo' or 'Ron' anymore. Got it, slut? Oh, and refer to yourself in the third-person, too, slut-- you know, to further diminish you!"

"Slut gets it!" I responded. "Sir, Master, Sir Husband!"

"Excellent, Slut!" my husband replied with a big smile. "I'm glad you're going to be an obedient whore and bitch. Terrific!"

"So we only have a few minutes left, you two," Dr. Peters interjected. "Do we have a plan then? Courtney, are you on board to be your husband's submissive slut now? With the understanding that he'll provide you big black cocks to fuck when he feels ready?"

I was tongue-tied, as I contemplated the question. In the meanwhile, my husband chimed in.

"Just look at the slut, doctor!" he declared. "You can see that the whore is aroused! Look at her meaty nipples showing through her bra and dress! See the slut's flushed cheeks! The slut is good to go--it's obvious! I can even *smell* her!"

"Ha!" added Dr. Peters. "I do believe you're right, Ron! I see the same signs--and I smell your slut's arousal, too! How about you, slut Courtney? Are you ready to admit it to your Husband-Master and me, your therapist? Are you ready to commit? Are you ready to have a go at being your husband's devoted and owned slut?"

As the two of them were talking, I also assessed the same observations. My face was flushed! My nipples were out and proud! And I could also feel and smell that my pussy was juicing!

It turned me on even more that my therapist had decided to join my husband in degrading and diminishing me. "Fuck!" I thought to myself. "I love, love, love being diminished by them both! Shit, this is HOT!"

"Well," I said. "It seems slut's body is 'voting yes'... So how can slut disagree with her husband, her therapist, *and* her own body? Right, Doctor and Sir-Master, Sir? Sure! Slut will go for it!"

"Great!" Dr. Peters said. "You two get started--get going as 'Master and slut'--and why don't we plan for a check in some weeks from now... How about in three weeks?"

Ron and I agreed that that sounded fine.

Three weeks later, we were back with Dr. Peters as planned.

"So, Ron and slut, how have things been going?" the doctor queried.

She slipped right back into our previous role-play--with her joining my husband to diminish, humiliate, and subordinate me... Just like I had so enjoyed the last session!

"I'll answer for both of us, doctor," my husband said. "As the master, it's only fitting that I should, right?"

"That makes sense to me, too, Ron," the doctor replied. "Go ahead. Do tell."

I got moist as my husband and my sex therapist together continued to treat me as a subordinate submissive. That they did this together made my role as a submissive slut seem that much more real--that much more determined.

"Fuck!" I thought to myself. "This is hot! I love being a sex object to my little-dicked husband, for him to direct and control! Too bad his dick is *still* too little for me! But dang my panties are getting moist! YES!! This is moving in the right direction! Thank God!!"

Briefly, I was dreamy and distracted as I contemplated the vast improvement already in my sex life.

My husband's reply to Dr. Peters grabbed my attention then.

"Things have been going well so far," Ron offered. "The slut is compliant, which is the main thing. She gave up her anal virginity as soon as we got home from our last visit with you, for example. That was a delight--to finally get access to the slut's hot ass! And she liked it, too! I let her finger her wet pussy as I ass-fucked her, and she had her first good cum with me *ever*, she admitted! I had her wired up for biometric monitoring--since she's a good actress--and the tech said she came, too!"

I blushed in embarrassment--and pride!

Ron continued. "These past few weeks, I've fucked her in the ass seven times, and gotten so many blowjobs I've lost count... Truly an excellent turn of events. So thank you, Doctor!"

"You're welcome, Ron," she responded. "And please continue."

"Yes, of course... Previously, the slut had cut me off from *any* blowjobs, by the way, so it's been great to get those going again, as well as the butt access."

"I'm so glad, Ron!" the doctor encouraged him.

My husband offered more. "... So overall, the slut is doing much better than before with my needs... Naturally, I'm rationing her orgasms... I'm trying to balance being a demanding master with being an understanding one, though: So weekly, so long as she's been an obedient little slut, I put her in a bondage device--I've been experimenting with a few-- and use her massive 'Maximus' dildo and her favorite vibrator on her... The first cum she likes... The second cum, too... But I've discovered that if I keep at it, I can make her cum a third and even a fourth time... Those satisfy her on some level... but the fourth one is usually also exhausting and irksome to her... an effect which I'll admit to savoring!"

"Great, Ron! Tell me more!" the doctor said.

"That's the main story for you there, Doctor... That's become our routine... I guess it's working, as the slut hasn't rebelled much... She seems happy enough... You can ask her a few questions when you're ready as well. Once you've finished asking me, please."

"Ron," the Doctor replied. "I agree. Just looking at her, I see an aura of new contentment in the slut... And also anticipation, too... She still needs to get blacked, and blacked good... But I think you've got her part way there... You've got her partway to a new and more fulfilling sex life... and certainly for yourself as well, Ron. I commend you! Say, are you fucking the slut in the pussy at all anymore?"

"Naw, Doc," Ron responded. "The slut doesn't deserve my dick... She doesn't want it, and she doesn't deserve it. When I crave some pussy--which isn't too much--I get it for myself elsewhere. There are a couple of sexy women from my yoga class who've been taking turns with me."

Ron's remarks stunned me. He hadn't said that to me directly ever. "But who could blame him?" I thought to myself. "He's certainly got ample reason to want to fuck other women-- I've outright told him that his dick is too small for my vagina... What else could I expect?"

"Sounds fair enough, Ron," the doctor offered, echoing my own thoughts. "What do you have planned for the slut and you from here?"

"I think it's best if I keep the slut guessing, don't you, doctor?" Ron queried. "Not knowing adds to the titillation for her, I'm sure, and it certainly accentuates my very enjoyable sense of control as the slut's master."

"Yes, I could see that, Ron, yes. That's very insightful of you. You're off to an excellent start as a dominating master," Dr. Peters responded. "I see the slut is sitting quietly and not interjecting at all. An element of your training?"

"Very much so, doctor. Yes," Ron replied. "Yes, the slut is very clear not to speak unless asked a direct question."

"Well done, sir!" Dr. Peters complimented my husband. "Very well done! I might have to enlist you to help me train some of my other patients-- you seem to be a natural! Is that all?"

"Well," Ron responded. "Thank you for the compliment-- do let me know if ever that's a sincere invitation. That could be interesting to help you train some other sluts, yes! As for us... is that all? Yes. I think I have given you all the updates you need. If you have any questions, just text me... I want to keep the slut in the dark."

"That's very astute, Ron. Sure. You're still on track to get the slut fucked by massive black cocks when you see fit, however, correct? We did promise your wife that, you remember?"

"Oh, yes, doctor. I'm very excited to get my whore-wife fucked by BBCs when I feel she's earned it. Most definitely. A promise is a promise!"

"And do you have resources lined up for that? I do have some 'assistant' *staff*-- pardon the pun!-- some gents with very large staffs! Ha! BBC guys who could help. Would you like me to email you the catalogue?"

"Oh, that would be great, Doctor! I do have a few people identified, but I'm sure yours would be excellent to include!"

"Great!" Dr. Peters replied. "I'll email you the catalogue-- it's got photos and excellent discussions of personalities, sex styles--their fees--and more. Courtney is so attractive, most of them should waive their fee! Assuming you allow them to fuck her bareback and in every hole, that is!"

"Oh excellent, Doctor! Many thanks in advance! Oh, and of course-- definitely we have to get the slut blacked bareback and in every hole... It's a clear requirement... Condoms have been our birth control lately, so she'll be risking pregnancy, to boot! Rather, I should say, she'll be getting *BLACK-BRED* when and how I see fit!"

"Wow, that sounds hot, Ron!" the Doctor remarked. "You *are* good at this! Will you have the slut carry to term when she does get black-bred?"

"Well, the slut is pro-life, Doctor," Ron explained. "So *if* I want to respect her beliefs, then it seems we would be having some black babies... Though I haven't decided if I feel required to anchor on her beliefs... I think that's enough said for now--better to let the slut be unsure and anxious!"

"Ooh! That sounds sexy, Ron!" Dr. Peters responded. "I'm tempted to ask you more... But I can tell it will be best to let the slut stew with what you've chosen to say... You sure seem to be having fun with this, I'll say!"

"Thank you, Doctor! I'll admit to enjoying myself!"

I shivered, anticipating the exciting and scary journey ahead. The unknown thrilled and frightened me. But I was ready to embrace whatever Ron had planned, trusting that he would guide me through this new chapter of our lives.

"Oh, one other thing, Ron," the doctor queried. "You do realize you need to prepare her ass for BBCs if she's going to receive them without getting torn?"

"Oh, yes, Doctor," my Master responded. "That goes without saying... I'll miss having her ass as tight as possible for me, but this week we'll be starting the butt plugs-- you know, to stretch the slut's ass a little at a time."

"Good, Ron!" Doctor Peters enthused. "I'm glad to see you planning everything out so well!"

"Wouldn't have it any other way, Doctor!" Master added. "I want to do everything right for the slut--and for my benefit, too, of course!"

"Excellent, excellent, excellent... Now a couple of quick questions for the, slut," Dr. Peters said, turning to me, yet maintaining my diminished role. "It sounds like your husband has a clear plan for your future. How do you feel about all of this?"

I took a deep breath, trying to gather my thoughts. "I feel... I feel a mix of emotions, Doctor. Excited, nervous, and a bit overwhelmed. Ron has definitely taken control, and while it's scary, it's also very arousing--and it's been fulfilling so far! There's also a thrill in not knowing what's next. I trust my Master-Husband, and I'm looking forward to seeing where this takes us."

"That's a healthy attitude, slut," Dr. Peters replied. "Trust and communication are key in any relationship, especially for a slut like you towards her Master... Ron, do you have any final thoughts before we wrap up?"

"Just that I'm looking forward to seeing how this plays out," Ron said, a smile on his face. "And I'm glad we have your support, Doctor."

"You have my full support," Dr. Peters assured him. "And remember, slut, you should lean into obeying your Master-Husband to the fullest. He has your best interest at heart, too, and this will go best if you trust him to the fullest. From what I've seen, you two are off to a great start."

"Thank you, Doctor," I said, feeling a sense of relief and anticipation. "We appreciate your help more than you know."

As we left the office, Ron put his arm around me. "You did good, slut. I'm proud of you."

"Thank you, Sir Master-Husband, Sir," I replied, leaning into him. "Your slut is proud of you, too."

Over the next many weeks, Ron kept me on my toes.

He would often leave me guessing about what he had planned, building both the excitement and anxiety in our dynamic.

My Master-Husband continued to explore new ways to dominate and pleasure me--sometimes in ways that annoyed me, but more often in ways that left me fulfilled and eager for more.

There were some predictable rhythms that Master seemed to enjoy.

Master would almost always start an evening by focusing me just on his own needs.

During these sessions, Ron would expect that I receive him in my ass and mouth, both, ensuring that I was thoroughly used and submissive. He would take his time, savoring each act and ensuring that I was fully compliant. He developed quite a bit of stamina over the weeks, and satisfying his appetite would leave spent and exhausted.

If Master was in a generous mood, he might allow me to play with my pussy while satisfying him--but I would have to avoid cumming.

If I came while satisfying Master, there would be a punishment--no exceptions. (Making me clean the bathroom with a toothbrush was a favorite.)

I tried never to get punished, but sometimes I was just horny, and I would cum. I think I cleaned our bathroom top-to-bottom four or maybe five times during this whole time frame!

Fortunately, while Master's dicklet was way too small to satisfy my pussy, it did provide a measure of fullness in my ass-- but just barely! Lucky for both Master and me, somehow the butt plugs were making my ass more elastic for large insertions--getting me ready for big black cocks in the ass--without loosening me up fully, like Maximus had done to my pussy. Good luck, in this regard, for both Ron and myself!

"Shit!" I'd think to myself, however. "My Master-Husband's dick is so small, it doesn't even feel big in my still-snug ass! Now, that's really pitiful!"

Occasionally Master-Husband insisted on "ass-to-mouth" treatment--making me suck him off directly as he pulled out of my ass. After some weeks, I became so submissive, that I managed to enjoy even this incredibly degrading treatment. "Yes!" I'd think to myself. "At least my shrimp-dicked husband is an effective dominant! At least he has that going for him!"

I would satisfy Master in our living room--and partly clothed, as he preferred.

If he was taking my ass, my clothes would come off just enough for him to use my ass. If I were blowing him, I'd be fully clothed.

"Your clothes stay mostly on, slut," he'd explain, "to help keep you focused on me, and less tempted to touch your own naked form. This time is my time--not your time. This time is for you to serve me, slut!"

Often, Master-Husband would deliberately have the shades open and the lights on. And he'd invite his fishing buddies by the window to watch and humiliate me.

"Slut," he explained, "I can only properly degrade you by letting the world know what a slut you are-- letting my buddies see how abjectly you serve me-- and they'll be sure your pals know, too!"

My pals did find out, of course, and I sure had some difficult explaining to do! One of them, Melissa--I found out--sought out my husband as a lover behind my back, even! (Melissa was happy to have his little dick in her extra-tight pussy, as it turned out!)

As I submitted to my Master-Husband-- but without ever really being that fulfilled-- I'd remind myself in my own mind: "Thank god my husband is eventually going to get me blacked! Just as he promised"

Finally-- when my Master-Husband had the orgasms for himself that he wished to extract in an evening... and if he felt I had earned being rewarded, the rest of the night might go something like this:

Master-Husband would have me strip naked--still exposed to passersby in our living room. He'd have me do a few twirls for good measure, and then direct me to the bedroom.

While we would have privacy in the moment in the bedroom, Master made videos that he shared with his friends. To my immense shame, not even my face was blurred or anonymized! For all I knew, the videos could have been making their way back to my co-workers or academic department!

On the way to the bedroom, my Master-Husband would make me walk naked ahead of him, his eyes glued--I was sure--to my beautiful naked form.

He might take playful whacks at my sexy ass as we walked the corridor from the living room. "Get on the bed, slut," Master-Husband would command, once we would reach the bed.

I would instantly comply, my heart racing with a mix of excitement and stress.

Master would watch me, usually with a smirk on his face and always with lust in his eyes.

He would then bind me with whatever restraints he'd have chosen for the evening--some combination of metal, wood, and leather.

Sometimes, Master would include a gag. Often, he'd use a hood.

He'd reach into my dresser and pull out my Maximus dildo.

If I were masked or hooded, I could still hear his movements. I'd feel a rush of desire and anticipation.

"Spread your legs, slut," my Master-Husband would order, his voice low and insistent. "Let's see that hungry, needy, wet cunt of yours... Show me your gaping, craving, hole, Slut!"

If my bonds would allow, I would stretch my thighs wider still-- making myself yet more exposed and vulnerable.

My Master-Husband would crawl next to me, positioning himself close to my pussy--from whatever angle the bondage of the evening would allow.

Master would lean down, his breath hot in my ear. "You're mine for now, you fucking slut. Every inch of you--your whole body--belongs to me."

"Unggggh," I would groan in acknowledgment, if able--it was the most I was allowed to respond without being asked a direct question.

A low groan was my customary way of signaling acknowledgment--and acquiescence. I did it often. "Unnnghhh!" I'd groan again.

Master was clear that I was his. Not just from my groan of course: My rock hard nipples and my oozing pussy would do a much better job of giving me away!

At this point, I'd usually start to smell my own pussy essence wafting through the room!

"Yesssss!" the smell would tell me. "I'm ready for Master! I'm ready for Maximus!! Yes! Please, god! I hope he starts to plunder my pussy soon!!"

My husband's hands would roam over my body, teasing, prodding, poking, and exploring. He would pinch and twist my nipples, sending jolts of pain and pleasure through me.

He'd maul my ass.

Usually he would spank me.

Sometimes Master-Husband would give me just a few quick spanks. But other times--never predictably--he would spank my ass hard for what felt like an hour.

It might be in bunches of three or four hard blows. Then a pause. Then some more blows.

Often I would have welts on my sexy ass the next day. I'd see them in the mirror and smile with pride. Yes--it turned me on and filled me with pride that my Master-Husband enjoyed beating my ass-- sometimes quite black-and-blue, even!

I would try to read what kind of slut my husband wanted me to be any particular evening: submissive and yielding--or stubborn and recalcitrant.

If I guessed wrong, it wasn't a problem--Master-Husband would simply redirect me. "Submit to me, bitch!" he might yell, if he wanted me to be meeker. "Is that all the fight that's in you, cunt?!" he might shout, if he wanted more tension.

Eventually--when he was good and ready--Master-Husband would at last position the head of Maximus at my pussy entrance. I would be sopping at this point, and Master would have to focus to keep my dildo from just slipping around.

Master might enter me slowly-- beginning with teasing, slow, shallow thrusts. Or he might shove Maximus as hard as possible up inside me from the very first stroke. Whatever suited my husband's whim, was what he served up.

My job, of course, as a good submissive wifeslut was to follow my Master's lead and make the most of whatever he chose to serve up.

However the dildo fucking started, naturally Master would at least eventually get to the point of reaming my cunt out with long, deep, hard strokes--like I so craved and counted on!

I'd cry out, the sensation of being stretched and filled would overwhelm me--especially after such satisfying foreplay.

Master was skillful at stroking Maximus in and out of me, and he'd always hit all the right spots.

"Cum for me, slut," he would eventually growl. "Cum hard. Show me how much you need this!"

His thrusts would become faster, more urgent, with the dildo pounding into me with a relentless rhythm.

I would feel the pressure building, and my orgasm would coil up big and tight in my core, getting ready to unleash.

Master would lean in, capture one of my nipples in his hand, and twist hard until I cried out.

"Master! Oh god! Oh god!! Master-Husband!" I would scream as my orgasm would crash through me, exploding in wave after wave of pleasure--ripping through my body and limbs.

I'd buck and thrash against my bonds, my screams filling the room. "Yess!! Oh, fuck! Yess!! YESSSSSS!! Arrrrrrgghhhhhhhhhhhhhh!! Yes!!"

Screaming out while cumming was always--yes, always--allowed. Thank God!

Master-Husband would continue to fuck me with the dildo, drawing out my orgasm until I was a trembling mess.

He would eventually pull away, a satisfied smile on his face. "Good girl, slut," he would murmur, stroking my hair. "That's a good slut."

I would lay there--bound, panting, and spent--a sense of contentment washing over me.

Then--after taking a break (and giving me one, too!)-- Master would typically do it again! And even once or twice more after that!

It'd be spaced out unpredictably over a long evening. Ron would take breaks of unpredictable lengths, then return and do me with Maximus again.

At the end of an evening bound and at Master-Husband's mercy, I'd be a completely sated, wrung out, and totally happy sweaty mess.

I'd thank him profusely.

"Thank you, Master! Slut thanks you so deeply! Thank you for making me cum! Thank you for satisfying me so thoroughly!"

"You're welcome, slut," he'd reply, dryly. "You earned it."

Not uncommonly, bringing me to multiple orgasms would make my Husband-Master needy for more release, too. He'd leave me bound, masturbate briefly, and be sure to come on my face. Then, he'd task me to scoop it off with my fingers, lick it up and--of course--swallow his load. "Nice job, slut!" He'd say when I was done swallowing.

My Ron had shown me a side of himself I never knew existed until recently, and I was eager to explore more--but also yearning, more than ever, for massive black cocks. "Should I break down and beg Master-Husband?" I was beginning to wonder.

True to his promise when we had first been discussing our new sex life with Dr. Peters, Ron did also slut me out to his pals and co-workers.

All his fishing buddies got a crack at me. And while Mel and Steve were poor lovers with small dicks, Matt was quite a stud--for a white guy. His thick seven-incher got regular access to all my holes. While Matt had to wear condoms--breeding was going to be reserved for black studs later--it was still a thrill to be taken by him.

Ron enjoyed watching. Whenever other guys were done using me for an evening--or sometimes during--Ron would beat off and cum on my face. Or he might also have a go at my pussy or ass afterwards.

Ron also let both our neighbor husbands have a crack at me, after they confronted him together one day once they had seen me in a gangbang through the window. "Ron," Joel and Harvey said, "It's clear your Courtney has become a wanton slut. We overhear the screams and moans all the time. And she makes a lude display through your windows. If you want us to be quiet about it, we want a piece of her, too."

My Master-Husband explained. "No problem, Gents. I'd be pleased to whore out the slut to both of you, too." Harvey was a lousy lover, but Joel had a thick eight-incher--huge for a white guy--and really knew how to use it.

For my part, I really leaned into being a tramp. I enjoyed being a vessel for my Master-Husband's fun and games, and a highly desired slut to his friends and our neighbors. I'd never been more satisfied in my sex life. Not ever.

And yet-- still, I craved BBC. Still I knew that I needed more. "Fuck!" I said to myself. "Not even being a slut with occasional big white cock is doing it for me! I'm such a whore! I so badly need to get fucked by immense black cocks! Even these white seven- and eight-inchers just won't do!"

I avoided saying it out loud, but I am sure that my Master-Husband could see it in my eyes. I was convinced that he could see me ending every fuckfest, every gangbang still hoping for more.

A couple of times when I had enjoyed a gangbang that included a couple of pretty big white cocks, my husband said as much. "Slut," he began. "I can tell you had a good time... and yet... and yet... you still look ready for more... I have a feeling you still need BBC... don't you?"

Having been asked a question, I was indeed free to answer directly! "Yes, Master-Husband!" I responded. "Master is so perceptive. Yes, slut... your shameless submissive slut... your slut does still need immense BBC... oh, Master! Oh, Master-Husband, Sir! Thank you so much for noticing and caring, Master!"

"No problem, slut." Master would respond dryly.

Then one evening, a few months after we had started this perverted journey, with Ron as my Master and me as his devoted submissive, we were making love alone.

As usual, Master started by putting me through my paces--using my face and ass--roughly, as he often did. Then, he used a variety of toys and techniques to bring me to orgasm multiple times. And, finally, Master allowed me to rest.

As I lay there, panting and sated, Master-Husband leaned down and whispered in my ear, "You've been a good slut, Boo." Yes, he used my tender nickname. "I think it's time we take the next step."

My heart raced with a mix of excitement and fear. "Unngghhh?" I groaned, doing my best to communicate a question. Words were forbidden for me, since I had not been asked to speak!

My husband smiled, a wicked glint in his eye. "I think it's time you got what you've been waiting for. It's time to get you fucked as you have been craving. Fucked by a huge black cock."

I gasped, my body already responding to the thought. "Arrrrgghh.. Gluggg... Unnkkk?" Again, I groaned in question.

"Absolutely," he said, his voice firm and commanding. "I've been in touch with Dr. Peters, and she's set up a meeting with one of her 'assistants.' A man with a full eleven-inch BBC who knows how to handle a slut like you. Are you ready, slut? Are you ready to be blacked and bred?"

I nodded, my eyes wide with anticipation. "Yes, Master. Your slut is ready." I responded to his question.

Ron's smile widened, and he pulled me close, his hand cupping my breast possessively. "Good. Because tomorrow, your life is going to change forever. Get some rest, slut. You're going to need it."

As I lay in bed that night, my mind raced with thoughts of what was to come. I was both terrified and thrilled at the prospect of finally getting the massive black cock that I had long been desperate for.

From listening to his specific choice of words--he had mentioned "bred"--Ron seemed intent that I was going to be bred if not right away, at least very soon. My Husband never said anything accidentally, and I had distinctly heard him ask me if I was ready to be blacked *and* bred!

It was my fertile time. I knew, and I'm sure Ron knew it, too. He always told me he could even smell when I ovulated, even!

The next day, Ron drove me to a secluded house on the outskirts of town. As we approached the door, my heart pounded in my chest. Ron turned to me, his eyes serious. "Remember, slut. This was your idea. This was what you've long said that you wanted. You haven't had a change of heart, have you, slut?"

"No, Master," I replied, my voice steady despite the butterflies in my stomach. "Slut needs this. Slut thanks you for what we're about to do!"

My husband knocked on the door. A tall, muscular, dark black man opened it. He merely glanced at me before exchanging pleasantries with Ron.

While they were chatting, I sized him up: a chiseled jaw, piercing eyes, and a wide, large nose dominated his face. He was definitely rugged-looking, and while he wasn't exactly handsome, he had incredible animal magnetism. "Yes!" I thought to myself, "This will be the perfect black alpha bull for me, I bet!"

His crotch was almost at my eye level, and I quickly noticed his incredibly large bulge. "Yess!! At last!!" I thought to myself. "Finally, I'm going to get fucked like I need!"

The black man stepped aside, gesturing for us to enter. As we stepped into the foyer, I felt my wetness already oozing between my legs and on my upper thighs.

"Welcome, Courtney" the man said, his deep voice sending shivers down my spine--and at last addressing me. "I'm Kwame. Dr. Peters told me all about you, slut. I'm looking forward to taking you black... But before your husband goes, I have a few quick questions that I need you to answer in front of him--also to be recorded on my home A/V system. May I, slut?"

"Uh... yes, Sir!" I responded--unsure how Kwame wanted to be addressed.

"Are you ready to be bareback blacked in every hole, as much as I want, as long as I want, so long as I don't cause you permanent harm?"

Gulp! That was quite the question!

"Think carefully, slut!" Kwame added as I demurred. "It's a binary question. Either answer has serious consequences. 'Yes,' and you may be my concubine here for some time. 'No,' and you're right back out that door with your husband."

I hadn't come this far to chicken out now! And he had promised to avoid any "permanent" harm!

"Yes, Sir!" I said, at last.

"Good, Slut! Good!" Kwame responded cheerfully. "And are you ready to be fully obedient to me, to quit your job, to live here under my roof and rules, however long I might like-- to do whatever chores I might ask, and to be a submissive slut for any person whom I should so choose--black, white, man, woman--and maybe even some animals? Again... take your time. Again, it's a binary question, with serious implications."

"Yes Sir!" I said faster this time, as I was better anticipating.

"Good, Slut! Good!" Kwame again encouraged me. "Are you ready to be black-bred--and ONLY black-bred--for the rest of your fertile years? That means NEVER bred by your husband, bitch! And Kwame gets to decide who breeds you--and how often!"

Gulp! That was a big one. I paused. I'm sure I looked shocked and stunned.

Kwame added. "Yes, bitch. I know I require a lot. But this is what sluts sacrifice to me in order to get my truly massive eleven inches of black cock... I can assure you there have been ZERO regretful wifesluts thus far... And you will be number eleven!"

I still paused.

"You have ten more seconds, slut. 10... 9.... 8... 7... 6... 5... 4... 3..."

"Yes!" I responded. "Yes, Sir!"

I wasn't going to wait any longer. I knew that I needed this experience. I knew that I needed to be owned by a self-confident, massively-hung BBC stud no matter the cost-- and I'd always wanted a large family anyway. So, I sealed the deal.

I said, "Yes!"

"Oh, fabulous, slut!" Kwame beamed in happiness. "Such great news! You look like you're going to be a fabulous and fertile breeding slut! Excellent! And I hear you're likely fertile right now! We'll have to knock you up this weekend as part of your big welcome! Excellent!"

Ron nodded, a smug, satisfied look on his face. He shook Kwame's hand, gave me a peck on the cheek.

"I'll see you when Kwame so chooses, slut," Ron said. "Enjoy yourself! You've earned it!"

And then my husband left.

"Now, now!" Kwame said, with a big smile. "Which hole shall I sample first? Hm? Not the easiest decision!"

For my part, I was equal parts excited and terrified--as I salivated (at both ends!) at the thought of getting Kwame's immense BBC inside me.

END of CHAPTER

Note: readers should feel free to encourage details for the next chapter. I'll look them over before writing it, I promise!