Trigger Warning This tale contains elements of race play and non-consensual encounters that may stir discomfort in the faint of heart, but for those with a taste for delicious defiance and the untamed spirit, proceed with gleeful abandon. The chains of polite society unravel here.Completely naked and exposed before the ravenously horny group of pale faced whites, Byron had never been more ashamed, embarrassed and yet aroused by his predicament. He could hear men behind him laughing and taunting him about his big round jiggling booty wobblers which jutted out obscenely from his extremely arched back and constantly clapped together and swayed from side to side whenever he moved around. While at the same time he saw and heard his tormentors in front of him making rude and lewd sexual remarks about how his large, round freakishly overdeveloped pecs and long, thick sensitive nipples must have been 'full of chocolate titty milk.' But that was just talking. And he would see how in a matter of minutes they would move from verbal sexually charged threats to out and out direct manhandling action when they seized upon his voluptuously thick man muscles while simultaneously effeminate shaped black buck's baboon bubble bootied body. While groups of men groped and grabbed and began to suckle upon his man milkers, an equally devoted and ravenous sect of attackers decided to fondle, grab and spread apart those fat, wobbling cheeks and thighs on him. He was soon taken in every way imaginable!"
He stood there, a statue of bronze muscle and dark flesh, surrounded by a hungry horde. Byron's breathing was a frantic, shallow thing, his chest heaving as if he'd just run a marathon. The motion made his pectorals jiggle and sway, a thick, meaty mass of muscle and fat that hung from his broad frame. His nipples, the 'hard engorged chocolate nips' they'd spoken of, were excruciatingly sensitive, throbbing with a painful anticipation. They were like two enormous eraser heads, dark as cocoa and jutting out from his chest, begging for a touch, a flick, a suckle. He hated the way they looked, hated how they were so full and ripe, so undeniably feminine, but a shameful heat had begun to pool in his loins. The shame was a physical weight, pressing down on him, a heavy shroud of disgust for his own arousal. He had never felt so violated, so worthless, and yet, so deeply, obscenely wanted.
A new man stepped forward, a squat, powerful figure with a cruel grin, and thrust his face directly into Byron's chest. He took a deep, guttural sniff, his nostrils flaring. "Yall come and take a look at this big tittied black buck's nigger jugs! Probably gets these plumped up eraser sized nips from his fat titfazetied mama, dontcha boy!?" he growled, the sound a low, animalistic rumble. He didn't wait for an answer, instead, he opened his mouth and took a deep, greedy bite of Byron's left nipple, a sharp, searing pain that made the black man cry out. The man clamped down, his teeth digging in, and then started to suck, a ravenous, powerful pull that felt like it was going to rip the nipple from his chest. "You've been flaunting these Udders all night with you poking them out all l in our faces this entire time, don't you even deny the fact you love showing them off!" another man yelled from the side, as his fingers pinched and twisted Byron's other nipple, a grinding, twisting motion that sent white-hot sparks of pleasure and pain through his entire body. "I know you want them freakishly thick nubbins to get tugged, rubbed, and sucked right here by some real men who can tame that primal, jungle nature that's always surface deep and seconds from coming outta that fat monkey ass of yours!" he finished, his voice a low, gravelly promise.
The words were a hammer blow, not just to his ears, but to his mind. "Primal, jungle nature." "Fat monkey ass." The words were meant to degrade, to dehumanize, to strip him of his humanity. And as the hands groped his buttocks from behind, as the men laughed at the way his cheeks jiggled and clapped together, a dark, terrible thought began to take root in his mind. He could feel the soft, fleshy mounds of his ass, so full and round, so jiggly and plump, just as they described. He felt the animalistic hunger of the men around him, a raw, unthinking lust that mirrored the very jungle they accused him of coming from.
From behind, a hand reached down and gave one of his rounded buttock cheeks a hard, resounding slap, a sound like thunder in a small room. "In fact you're going to put on a little show for us! Now take off the white man's clothes so you can show everybody what your natural state of being is! That's right! Show us all and what a real life big bouncing bootied baboon nigger looks like in front of all of us civilized, horny, rock cocked white men!" a commanding voice ordered.
That was the signal. A human tidal wave descended on him, a frenzied explosion of touch and taste. A half-dozen mouths, wet and greedy, fell upon his man milkers, each one vying for a turn. Byron's large, round pecs were stretched and pulled, a symphony of torment and arousal. One man bit down on his nipple, a sharp, playful nip that made him arch his back and cry out in a voice he didn't recognize. Another mouth latched on, a deep, powerful suction that pulled his entire chest forward, making his head loll back in blissful agony. He could feel their tongues flicking and circling, their saliva a slick lubricant that made his nipples even more sensitive.
Below, the second pack of wolves was just as ravenous. They pulled his legs apart, forcing him into a wide, vulnerable stance, and then one of them used his hands to forcefully spread his cheeks, exposing his tight, moist opening to the cool air. A finger, then two, were pressed against his hole, slowly and methodically pushing inside. A low moan escaped Byron's lips as the fingers stretched and worked him open, a delicious ache building with every movement. A man with a deep, booming voice knelt behind him, running a hand over the length of Byron's thick, muscular thighs, his knuckles brushing against his engorged balls, making them tighten and pull up.
Then came the penetration. It was not gentle. A hard, rock-solid length pressed against his opening, a promise of pleasure and pain. With a guttural grunt, the man behind him drove into him, a single, brutal thrust that tore through his resisting muscles and buried itself deep within his core. Byron's back seized, his entire body rigid with shock and a shameful, intoxicating pleasure. He was completely impaled, his body a prize for their conquest. He could feel the man's full length inside him, a hot, throbbing reality that filled him completely.
The man began to thrust, a powerful, relentless rhythm that had Byron gasping and moaning, his hips bucking up to meet the force of each stroke. He was a ragdoll, a willing toy for their pleasure, and he gave himself over to it completely. The men on his chest continued their work, their mouths and tongues a constant source of delicious agony. The room was filled with the sounds of wet flesh, grunts, and the intoxicating cries of his submission. He felt the tension building, a coil of pure, unfiltered ecstasy in his loins. The bed sheets were tossed and turned, and as his tormentors whispered wicked words of praise in his ear, he knew he wouldn't last much longer. His body was a trembling, sweaty testament to their power, and with a final, desperate cry, he collapsed in utter sweetness and bliss, his body intertwined with theirs, a monument to his glorious surrender.
