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Chapter 17 Initiation
When you join a sex club you had better be prepared for a lot of sex, I told myself as I crawled between Nadine Reynolds’ ebony thighs. Nadine had thoughtfully placed a pillow under her hips and spread her legs wide apart so I wouldn’t have any trouble eating her.
Corrine and I were back at the Longwood Motor Court undergoing the second part of our initiation into Club BM&WS. After part one, Orientation, we were being welcomed with four one-hour sessions where we were expected to sexually service a different black couple during each hour.
According to the literature we received in the mail, the Club considered the afternoon a combination of welcome and training. The afternoon was intended to give us a sampling of what to expect at the monthly meetings.
The first couple was our sponsors, Scott and Nadine Reynolds. Scott was also my criminal lawyer who luckily we had never had to go to trial with. I strongly suspected he had been screwing my wife behind my back.
That point was moot soon since Corrine was right beside me preparing to take Scott’s fully erect black cock in her mouth.
Nadine was one of those buxom black women with big tits and a matching butt. She was certainly aggressive and seemed to have a real thing for white men. She’d been all over me from the moment Corrine and I walked through the door.
At her direction, I’d just spent time sucking on her oversized nipples bringing them to a state of extreme readiness. Between the cock ring and the erectile dysfunction pills my doctor had prescribed I was also in state of extreme readiness. I was so hard you could strike a match on my dick.
As my face reached her sex, I took an exploratory swipe of my tongue across her clit she’d exposed for me by parting the thick folds of her labia. I grabbed the nubbin of flesh in my lips and pulled it out so I could suck it. I inhaled her musky aroma as I worked on her mini-dick. I’ll go to my grave believing black pussy smells different than white; even though I’ve been told a hundred times it all smells the same.
“White boys love eating pussy, especially a black woman’s pussy” said Nadine placing her hands on the side of my head to pull me hard against her sex, arching her back in reaction to my warm mouth on her sensitive flesh. I found myself coming around to her idea there was something special about the way an ebony snatch tasted, smelled, and even felt.
“Nadine once dated a white boy in college, a real Georgia cracker, a dye-in-the-wool nigger hating redneck,” said Scott as he gently pushed my wife down toward his crotch. Nadine had a liberal arts degree from Emory University in Atlanta where according to her she majored in getting racist white boys to do down on her while one of her girl friends took images for the college Web site.
It was something her husband Scott took a certain amount of pride in. “The cracker once ate her snatch while his red neck frat brothers watched.”
“Harvey hated black people but he loved the taste of chocolate,” said Nadine before offering me an incentive. “Eat me nice, Tom, and I’ll let you fuck me.”
“Yeah, Cory baby, suck my dick. You know how I like it,” breathed Nadine’s husband Scott as Corrine took his cock in her mouth and swirled her tongue over the head. His last comment confirmed my suspicion he and Corrine had been getting it on.
Scott’s deep sonorous voice sounded a lot like Barry White. That undoubtedly contributed to his success in the courtroom and in getting white woman like Corrine to spread their legs for him.
Corrine was practicing her yoga trick of doubling one leg underneath her allowing her vulva to rest on the side of her foot, a practice she claimed to have learned from the Kama Sutra. A rocking motion permitted her hands free masturbation. Scott’s shaft and balls were getting her full manual as well as oral attention while she was giving her clit a massage with her insole. My wife is a very talented woman.
My leg was pressed against Corrine’s as we performed orally on the Reynolds. For reason’s unknown, we both found it erotic to be touching while having sex with others.
“Don’t neglect my heinie, Tom,” said Nadine raising her legs to indicate analingus was expected.
I burrowed my face between her meaty buttocks, my lips seeking her bull’s eye. My tongue circled the slightly raised circumference clockwise and counter clockwise before zeroing in on the opening. I placed the tip of my tongue dead center of her sphincter. I hesitated a split second to relish the experience. A strong push and once more, my tongue was up a black woman’s ass.
“Good boy,” said Nadine reaching down to grab her buttocks and pull them apart allowing me to go deeper.
The letter announcing our acceptance into the club arrived within a week after our examination at the Longwood. We already knew we’d made the grade but the letter made it official. The manila envelope also contained information about our initiation along with forms we had to complete and bring with us.
I hadn’t realized there was an initiation so I asked Corrine as I handed her the letter. “What‘s involved?” As usual she was fully briefed. I assume by Scott Reynolds who I’d come to realize had guided our every step along the path for joining the club.
I rationalized that if Scott and Corrine were having an affair, it was my fault. If I hadn’t gambled and wound up being owned by Al Quarles, Corrine and I would still be a monogamous couple. I’d sworn never to reproach her for whatever happened as a result.
And since I got off watching her with black men my only legitimate complaint was she wasn’t letting me be a spectator. The fact my sex life was nothing short of incredible was also a factor in my acquiescence. Regardless of how we became members, I found sex with black men and women an unbelievable turn on. I didn’t care who Corrine humped as long as I participated along with her.
Corrine opened the envelope, examined the contents and read the brief note announcing we were accepted as members in Black Masters and White Slaves and could participate fully as soon as we were initiated.
“There will be an orientation session at the start of the initiation. The club’s president will go over the rules. That’ll last about an hour. It’s a good time to ask any questions you might have. Then they take our pictures for the club’s Web site,” said Corrine.
“What kind of pictures,” I asked?
“Revealing ones, here you need to fill this out,” said Corrine handing me a sheet of paper with a large number of items to check and a place at the end for me to write a paragraph about how I eager I was to serve the sexual needs of my black masters.
“I’m not happy with the idea of having nude pictures of us on the Web for the world to see,” I said looking at the paper.
“Only club members can access the Web site. Its password protected,” said Corrine.
“Will we have a password?”
“Yes, but there are different levels of access depending on whether you are a master or a slave,” said Corrine.
“What’s this all about,” I asked holding up the form.
“It’s your sexual profile. You get the male version. I get the female. Let’s fill them out together,” said Corrine handing me a pencil.
“Name is easy enough,” I said filling in the top line of the form. “But what do they mean by slave name?”
“Some members might choose to have a different slave name than their real name,” said Corrine.
“Sounds too confusing, I’m sticking with Tom,” I said.
“Tom sounds like a slave name but I’m going to put down Cory,” said Corrine. “Cory, the white slave girl who loves being used by her black Masters.”
I filled in my height and weight along with my hair and eye color. I entered eight inches as my cock length and checked the box indicating I was circumcised. “Top, bottom, or versatile,” I read aloud. “Which am I?”
“Check versatile,” said Corrine. “That means you can both pitch and catch.”
“I’m not sure that’s true. I’ve screwed one another man in the ass and that was Martin, last week.” I don’t know whom I was trying to fool, my wife or me. The club’s examination had shown I could fuck men as well as women. However, I still had problems letting go of my illusion I was a straight eight guy not a fairy
“And how was it for you,” asked Corrine? “As I recall, Martin loved it.”
“Since my hard on was enforced by the cock ring, I’m not sure. It felt good.” Martin had moaned and jerked his cock as I buggered him. I liked screwing Martin. And I also got off when I was the catcher but I wasn’t quite ready to admit it to Corrine or myself.
“You’ve screwed me in the ass and you butt banged Connie and Rachel,” said Corrine speaking as she was writing. “You got off on that.”
“That’s different,” I said. “You have a beautiful ass.”
“Thanks, you’re sweet. It says at the bottom of the form you can change your profile online so just put down versatile for now and if it turns out you don’t like buggery, change it later,” said Corrine.
“All right,” I said checking the box. There was an impressively long list of BDS&M activities like spanking, whipping, cock and ball torture, nipple clamps, etc. There were two columns with two choices each. One column indicated your willingness to experience the activity, the other to perform the action. I was universally no to experience but yes to perform. If some black male or female wanted me to put a pair of alligator clamps on their nips, I could handle it but I preferred to keep my buds clamp free.
“Why you little painslut,” I said to Corrine, later, when we were editing each other’s profile for mistakes. She had opted for pretty much the entire BDS&M menu.
“Don’t be judgmental. I want to experience new things,” she said.
I’d completely nixed the fetish list for enemas, water sports and scat. Playing in somebody else’s shit or even mine did not strike me as something I was up for. Rubber, latex, and infantilism were also on my no list. Then I came back to one I’d skipped because I wanted to discuss it with Corrine.
“Cross dressing, what do you think,” I asked?
“I checked it. But I doubt there is female Master who wants a diesel dyke slave. But you never know,” said Corrine giving me a knowing look. “Or maybe one of the Masters likes to have a white woman dressed as a man do him with a strapon.”
“What does it mean if I check it,” I asked?
“It means a Master could expect you to show up dressed as a girl or dress you as a girl himself. There’s also Forced Feminization under the fetish category,” said Corrine looking at my form. “You might want to check that also.”
“You okay with it,” I asked wondering how Corrine would react to me in drag? I’d never admitted it to her or anyone but occasionally dressing in her underwear and clothes was a major turn on. Unfortunately, she didn’t have much I could wear. I’m not a big man but Corrine is a Size 6.
“Sure, I’ll even help you find something to wear, Thomasina,” said Corrine calling me by the feminine form of my name.
“It might be something I want to try,” I said mentally wrestling with the thought I was out of control sexually.
“If you check it and the Master specifies it, you won’t have a choice when we’re on booty call,” said Corrine.
“We’ll be on booty call,” I asked? That was a possibility I hadn’t heard before.
“Only for one weekend every three months,” said Corrine. “The Club gives us a pager. If a Master couple pages us, we have to go.”
“Sounds interesting,” I said. Being summoned to a black couple’s house for sex struck me as erotic. And arriving dressed as a woman made my cock immediately hard.
Corrine carefully checked our forms then faxed them to what we assumed was the Club’s headquarters. Anxious to start, she picked the first Saturday available.
We arrived on time at the designated Longwood motel room where we were met by the club co-presidents, Dan and April. Apparently, the office of club president always consisted of a man and wife.
They were another good-looking black couple. As I found out later, appearance was an important factor in member selection. April was the taller of the two. She was well over six feet with a willowy figure and extremely long legs I immediately pictured wrapped around my waist as I thrust into her. Her short skirt showed them off. Dan was my height and also slender. It turned out they were both runners who had just returned from competing in the Boston Marathon. Months later, at one of the monthly parities, I learned April was dominant and Dan submissive.
After a brief check of our driver’ license to confirm our identity, we got down to business.
“Undress and put your clothes in these,” said Dan handing us two shopping bags for our clothes.
Once we were nude, our indoctrination began. We had to sign a form relieving the club of any responsibility if we were injured or contracted an STD. There was also a pledge of secrecy for us to sign.
“I see you’re both into strapon sex,” said April after glancing at the completed profile forms we’d handed her. April got busy entering our profiles with her laptop while Dan used his to access the Web site to create our login and password.
“All the rules of slavery are in the slaves pages of the Web site,” said Dan showing us how to select the Slave’s’ Rulebook. There was a Master’s Rulebook but it was only accessible to users with a Master’s login.
As slaves, we were expected to attend at least nine of the next twelve monthly meetings. Our membership would be suspended if we missed more than three meetings in twelve. However, if we had a really good reason such as illness or business, we could appeal.
One weekend every three months we were on booty call from six Friday evening until six Sunday evening. We were expected to respond to any master who paged us.
“You can expect forty eight hours of sexual slavery,” commented April.
“A key requirement is that you perform consistent with your profile. If you checked No to being whipped, you can refuse to be whipped. But if you checked Yes and refuse, the Master can file a complaint and your membership could be suspended,” said Dan.
“Suppose you agree to a No just this once,” I asked?
“That’s okay. Sometimes we all like to try new things,” said Dan.
There were a host of other rules about personal hygiene and maintaining an attractive appearance. One way to get kicked out of the club was to gain weight.
“What if I decide to get pregnant and go off birth control,” asked Corrine?
“That depends on whether you want to have Tom’s baby or let one of the Masters impregnate you,” said Dan looking sly.
“Don’t be an ass, Dan,” said April. “You can suspend your membership until you are pregnant. And later, you can become inactive when you get close to your date.”
“Some of the Masters have a real thing for pregnant white women. I know I do,” said Dan exercising the keyboard then turning the laptop screen toward us. “Here, take a look at Slave Denise.”
Denise was a diminutive brunette with large brown eyes and a slim figure except for her abdomen. Denise’s husband was kneeling beside her with his hand draped over her belly. They were both nude. ‘Inactive’ was printed at the bottom of the image.
“That was taken about a month ago,” said April. “She and Roger had a son last week, Samuel Elliot.”
“One of the Masters is the baby’s father,” said Dan changing the laptop image to that of an infant. “We’re all trying to figure out who he looks like.”
“Denise chose to let the Masters impregnate her,” said April. “That’s not common but Denise and Roger have a strong commitment to the club.”
I kept my mouth shut but I had no intention of allowing anyone besides me to knock up Corrine. That was my job.
Questions answered, we posed for our Web pictures. It was very basic and to my professional’s way of thinking, lacking, but I suppose it served the purpose. A bed sheet was taped to the wall in front of a tripod mounted digital camera.
We posed for frontal, side and rear then we were done.
“Always remember the cardinal rule,” said Dan ending our orientation. “You are the slave and must do as you are told.”
“And as slaves, you should expect hard treatment from some masters,” said April.
“But hopefully, they will respect your limits as stated in your profile,” said Dan.
“These are the rooms you will spend the next four hours,” said April handing us a printed list of the four Master couples we would be serving that afternoon. I wasn’t surprised to see Scott and Nadine Reynolds were our first appointment. Corrine had said it was traditional our first Masters were our sponsors. Dan used his cell phone to confirm they were nearby and waiting.
I started to pick up the shopping bag expecting to redress for the short trip from Room No. 118 to Room No. 325. The Longwood was an older motel with three floors and the rooms opened to the outside.
“You’re not allowed to dress. Your clothes will be waiting for you at your last appointment,” said Dan taking the shopping bag from my hand.
“How do we get there,” I asked not realizing what was expected?
“Go out the door and turn left. There’s a stairwell at the end,” said Dan smiling.
“Or you can take the elevator,” said April.
“Come on,” said Corrine before I could protest.
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