7 comments/ 222425 views/ 18 favorites Lady Helen Archer: Black Cock Whore By: A Cracker Slut "I'll take my coffee on the terrace thank you Brabinger" "Very well Lady Archer" Lady Helen Archer stood politely as the waiter moved her chair discreetly back allowing her to depart from her table. It was Tuesday and the country club was full of the usual suspects. She counted three Earls, a Duke and at least four Mistress's as she made her way to the terrace. She nodded at a number of acquaintances as she elegantly moved amongst the tables and chairs, some of them still set out for late arrivals. The Club was nothing if not accommodating for its select band of members and it was not unusual to find tables seating late arrivals well into the afternoon. Lady Archer chose a table on the terrace out of the sun and sat herself down, making sure not to crease her immaculate blue Gucci suit. At fifty years of age she felt that time had been kind to her, she still turned heads with her striking features, her hair bobbed and brunette, the same colour and style as when she was twenty. Her legs were good, long and athletic and her breasts still had much of the youthful perkiness that had ensured she had the pick of the suitors on the Deb ball circuit in the year of her coming out. She had married well and born three lovely children, now sadly all flown the nest except young Samantha who was the apple of her Mother and Fathers eye. All in all she was happy with her lot, OK her husband was absent on business more than she would of liked, she still had a woman's needs despite her age, but she never complained and always stuck by her man no matter what. She had forgiven him his little sordid affairs and always, always been faithful to him no matter what options had been presented to her. Lady Archer toyed with her key ring while she waited for her coffee, where on earth was it? The service was normally excellent here what could have gone wrong? Helen put it down to the general deterioration of moral fibre amongst the working classes and resolved to complain to her good friend Henrietta St-John-Smythe about the matter. Hen would sort it out, she was secretary of the country club after all and there was nothing she couldn't fix. Suddenly the key ring she had been toying with slipped from her grasp falling with a clatter to the ground. As she bent to fetch it her skirt rode up her shapely legs, exposing her stocking clad thighs to the world, rather more thigh in fact than would normally have been considered decent in polite company. To make matters worse her blouse was gaping open as well offering unimpeded views of her considerable cleavage, an altogether unsatisfactory situation for a lady to be in. At that same instant a waiter coughed politely. "Your Coffee Lady Archer" Lady Archer straightened, as she did so her face came level with the crotch of the waiter who had spoken to her, who appeared to be standing a lot closer to her Ladyship than was strictly necessary. Lady Archer's view was filled with the waiter's crotch and she couldn't help but notice the largest bulge she had seen since Linford Christie had last graced the TV screens. For once in her life she was momentarily stuck for words as her gaze failed to be dragged away from what was clearly a rather large penis enclosed as it was in a pair of tight black waiters trousers. Helen could feel a heat rising in her cheeks but also more worryingly between her thighs, how long had it been since she had been this close to a real penis? To long she thought. She was also suddenly aware that she was showing a lot of thigh not to mention a good view of her stocking tops as well, her bra encased breasts completing a picture any voyeur would of loved to witness. She quickly composed herself her eyes travelling further up the waiter's body, taking in the nametag and last, but by no means least, the fact that he was as black as the night itself. It was all she could do to stop herself gasping. The young man was about six-foot tall and about the same across the shoulders, the coffee tray looked tiny in his enormous hands as he towered over her. Lady Archer remembered he had spoken. "Thank you so much...Errol is it? Are you knew Errol?" Lady Archer prided herself on her ability to talk to the lower classes and was completely unaware that she sounded like a patronising parent when she addressed anyone with less than three houses. "Your Coffee Lady Archer. I'm am new your ladyship, I started just this week" The way he talked to her didn't seem right, as though he viewed himself as her superior rather than her waiter. His attitude wrong footed Lady Archer and before she had a chance to reprimand him he was gone leaving her feeling a little confused and flustered by their meeting. It was only once he had gone that she remembered he must have seen not only her thighs but her breasts as well, albeit framed by her expensive lingerie. That thought sent a shiver through her. That black man had seen her most intimate parts, parts of her that were only seen by her husband and only then on the very rare occasions when he could be bothered to sleep in the same room as her. She would definitely have to talk to Hen about him he wasn't at all suitable for the country club! A tiny voice in Helen's head piped up "I hope he liked what he saw" as soon as she thought it she dismissed it as entirely out of hand, why would she think such a thing? She sipped her coffee and tried to ignore the nagging wetness between her thighs. "Darling you look simply splendid" Lady Archer addressed her youngest daughter as she sat in the living room of the family home. Samantha Archer was attending yet another debutante ball and was pirouetting around the living room desperate for her Mother's approval. Samantha had been fortunate to take after her Mother rather than her Father in the looks department and was tall and striking, her hair of deepest brown matching her eyes. Samantha had also been blessed with her Mothers legs and breasts, both of which were barely contained within the indecently short black dress that seemed to be all the rage this season. Helen could not believe the transformation from awkward teenager to striking young women that had been wrought in her youngest daughter in the last year of her life. They grow up so fast these days, she thought to herself. Samantha seemed so self-assured now, so confident. She had returned from school barely a week ago having recorded a full set of straight A exam results now, having turned eighteen she was taking a year off before going to university, it was time for her to let her hair down a bit. "Darling you will be careful won't you? I know what these boys are like at these balls only after one thing" "Oh Mummy I'm a grown up you know I can look after myself" Lady Archer raised an eyebrow at that one but let it go. The blare of a horn announced the arrival of Samantha's taxi outside. "OK just be careful, but darling have a good time won't you. And don't worry I wont wait up for you, now run along" With that she kissed her youngest daughter on the cheek and watched with a pang of jealousy as she pranced out of the house. Helen couldn't help but admire her daughter's figure as she left, she really had filled out over the last year, she thought to herself almost wistfully. Her thighs were clearly visible under her tiny dress and Lady Archer noted the hint of stocking top as she sashayed down the driveway. One thing Helen always insisted on was good quality underwear for her daughters, something she didn't mind paying for herself. She knew Samantha was wearing a lovely pair of black silk cami-knickers under her dress, they had picked them out together earlier on that evening and matched them with an exquisite suspender belt that had been an eighteenth birthday present from her. Lady Archer caught herself wondering if some lucky lad would get to find out what she was wearing tonight? The illicit thought sent a shiver of pleasure down her spine, she shook herself, what was the matter with her, she had been thinking about sex all day. Helen decided to pour herself a glass of wine and call Hen, when she hadn't been thinking about sex, Errol had been on her mind, she didn't like his attitude at all. Something she was determined to do something about. She rang Henrietta's private office number. Helen had known Henrietta nearly all her life and they had been best friends for as long as she could remember. Hen had never been what you could call attractive, she was a large sturdy girl who attracted small bespectacled boys who wanted mothering, she rarely had dates and seemed to be largely overlooked by her male peers. She was an exceptional sports woman in her day though, excelling at show jumping and track and field events. When the two friends had left school it had been Helen who married and Hen, the perpetual bridesmaid, who had looked over the proceedings with a slightly wistful smile. She had never married, much to her parents chagrin and never seemed to have a significant other half and now lived alone except for the two cats she adored. "H...H...Hello" "Hen?" "Mary Oooooh my god... how are you?" "I'm fine you sounded a bit funny there for a moment, everything OK?" "I...Oh I'm fine Helen just a bit tied up at the mo" Was that giggling she could hear in the background? "Hen stop playing silly buggers, I was just ringing to see if we could do lunch tomorrow? I have something I want to discuss with you" "Oh...Ohhhhhh yes...that would be fine, darling. Look darling I have to go...Ohhhhhh darling...I'll see you tomorrow" Lady Archer put the phone down, odd she thought Hen was normally the sole of professionalism when on the phone, what had got into the silly girl? Henrietta St-John-Smythe replaced the receiver and slumped back in her chair. Lady Archer would of been interested to note that her friends tweed skirt was currently rucked up around her waist exposing her hefty stocking clad thighs and the fact that she had no panties on. Her hairy cunt glistened under the office lighting, showing off her clear arousal and the fact that a rather large black dildo seemed to be forced up inside the folds of intricate skin, stretching her obscenely. Her ankles were tied to each side of the large office chair she occupied, rendering her helpless. Her tweed jacket and white crisp blouse had been ripped off and discarded allowing her large firm white breasts to be exposed to the scrutiny of her tormentor. Across her magnificent cleavage the words "White Bitch" had been written in dark red lipstick. Her face, usually graced with a broad smile seemed, at present to be covered in some sort of sticky liquid. Inches from her mouth was a large, black throbbing cock, its head weeping sticky liquid which its owner was proceeding to wipe over poor Henrietta's face, something she seemed to actually quiet like. Henrieta wanted that cock in her mouth and a number of other places besides. She knew what she needed to do to get what she wanted and like a poor addicted street urchin desperate for a fix she felt no shame. "Please can I suck your cock Master Errol, I'll be a good little white bitch for you" The filth spilling form her mouth thrilled her immeasurably, never in all her days would Henrietta have imagined she would use such filthy language, let alone on one of her employees, a black man to boot. "Why should I let a saggy old white woman suck my cock?" He towered over her, his manner so different from when he was serving in the restaurant. Henrietta had realised to late that he was something not quiet right about the young man who had come for the job as waiter, she had interviewed him despite, or was it because of the strange power he seemed to hold over her. It had all gone relatively smoothly, he was eloquent and intelligent, it almost seemed a shame to put him in the restaurant. At the end of the interview when they had gone to shake hands he had pulled her in close and forced his tongue into her mouth. Henrietta had not known how to react, it was so unexpected, before she had a chance to re-group he had his hand up her skirt. To Henrietta's immense shame she was so aroused by this stage that her panties were soaked through and she knew she would not be able to resist his advances. Short moments later before she knew where she was, she was tied up, naked on the floor with his camera clicking and her cunt on show. "Oh please Master Errol I was born to suck your magnificent cock, I need it, please give it to me" Henrietta was beside herself with arousal she had been tormented all afternoon, her legs filling with cramp as he sucked her cunt, fingered her ass hole and pinched her nipples until she cried. "Mmmmm let me think about it whore" In the past week since Henrietta had given the persuasive Errol the job as waiter she had been completely conquered, she knew she would not say no to whatever depravity he suggested, all she could think about was his big black cock, she would do whatever she needed to get it. She couldn't believe what she had been missing all these years, like a slow leak in a dam that eventually releases a torrent of water Henrietta St-John-Smythe was fast becoming a whore for black cock. "Please Master Errol the cleaners will be here soon" "Exactly, I promised them something to play with during the night shift! Your it white bitch" Henrietta took a moment to assimilate what she had just been told, surely he must be joking. She was still the secretary of this club not some object he could lend out at will to the other members of staff. What had started as a bit of fun had to stop now, being a slave to Errol was one thing but she was risking everything if other people found out about her. Unfortunately for Henrietta Errol took that opportunity to grasp the base of the dildo he had inserted into her sopping cunt, ever so slowly he drew it out of her, leaving her missing its presence, gasping at the loss. She sagged again, all fight suddenly gone from her, she knew she couldn't win, he had pictures of her doing some horrible things and to make things worse she looked as though she was loving every minute of it. She had done things that she had never imagined in her darkest dreams, things that had thrilled her despite her upbringing, things that would spell the end of her tenure as company secretary. Even now she could hear the clattering of the cleaners trolley coming up the corridor, soon enough the two aged black cleaners would set eyes on Henrietta's most intimate areas. She had already had to speak to both of them about drinking at work and now she had to face them again in slightly different position. Samantha Archer sat back in the cab, smoothing her dress down as she checked the driver out, a fifty-year-old white guy, easy pickings. During her last year at school Samantha and her friends had started to play a game. It involved them going out on the town with no money and seeing how many drinks they could get out of men for free. Obviously there was a fair amount of flirting involved but that had not been enough for Samantha, she had to go further. She had discovered she loved the thrill of control she was able to exercise over men. They were so sad, a glimpse of stocking top and they would fall over themselves to buy her drinks and take her to shows, whatever they thought it took to get into her panties. Samantha never put out though, she teased and she accepted the praise and favours but she never put out, she was a good girl at heart. Until one night she was in a dingy bar in one of the less salubrious postcodes, her girlfriends were long gone and she was drunk from all the champagne she had consumed. She had been sitting at the bar, all thighs and tits when an older overweight black guy had stopped to chat to her, he was in his fifties and stank of booze. These aspects made it all the more thrilling for Samantha, she had never been with a black man before and loved to tease older men especially. She had turned the charm on full heat as usual, angling for more drink, hoping for a story to share with her girlfriends, something to elevate her status to that of legend. The guy had called her bluff though, when she had drunk her fill and was starting to get bored she had got up to leave, he had grabbed her and accused her of being a tease and a flirt only after his money, an accusation she could hardly deny. Before she knew what was happening he had hauled her over his knee and lifted her short skirt in front of the whole room and proceeded to spank her. She had struggled and shouted but no one had helped her, they just sat around pointing and laughing at the spoilt little rich girl being humiliated. Samantha had been spanked like she had never been spanked before, as her cheeks stung from the abuse they were receiving she started to realise that she was becoming very turned on, her thighs were damp, nipples swollen, she was loving every minute of it. The combination of her humiliation and domination by this black man had had a profound effect on the upper class, private school educated girl. Samantha had spent the rest of the evening as a willing slave to the man. She had sat on his lap while he had a hand up her skirt in front of the whole bar, fingering her relentlessly with everyone watching on as the white girl was used by the old fat black man. She had willingly sucked him off in the car park and had not objected in any way when he had fucked her amongst the bins. When he had taken his fill of the young white girl he had told her to fuck off home to her mummy and daddy, she had gone home with come leaking out of her abused cunt and a large satisfied smile on her face. Samantha had finally found what she wanted. She wanted to be controlled completely, used for other people's pleasure. Samantha had realised that what she craved was just the abuse she dished out, she wanted to be subjugated, used and abused, shown off and toyed with by older overweight men in dingy bars. Men who under normal circumstances would have no chance of ever getting near someone of Samantha's Archers upbringing! During the last few months at school Samantha had been acquired something of a reputation amongst her friends. She was taking things too far, it wasn't enough for her to flirt with a guy and get drinks of him, she had to have the thrill of abuse to make her heart beat faster. Samantha didn't care any more she had found what she wanted and was going to do whatever it took to get it. She knew what she was, a slut, she had been called it enough times in enough bars and pubs, she had nothing to be ashamed of. She was totally happy with what she was which was more than could be said of her friends and her parents come to that. Samantha loved her poor Mummy but she couldn't help but think that life was passing her by, she was so frustrated and unhappy, Samantha wished there was something she could do to cheer her up. She felt sure she was a naughty girl just like her daughter, she just needed a push in the right direction. "Where to love?" "Elephant and castle please and may I sit in the front with you?" "Sorry love I'm afraid I can't do that, rules" "Oh I'll be a good girl for you if you let me, sitting in the back is so boring and the views terrible. Oh please let me" Without waiting for a reply Samantha opened the front door and got in, making sure her dress rode up her stocking clad legs allowing the man an eyeful of her firm silky thighs. She knew he was looking and decided she had better get things started if she was to have a slightly less boring journey into central London. "Do you like my legs?" She purred demurely, lisping slightly, playing on the sweet little girl image. She watched as the man started and then recovered immediately. "Very nice Love" The cabby had seen a few things over the years and knew that certain young ladies liked to show off and act up a bit and this one was well worth a second look. He did nothing to hide the fact that he was openly ogling her exposed flesh as his cock hardened in his trousers. Lady Helen Archer: Black Cock Whore "Mmmmmm I'm glad you like them they go all the way up to my little pussy" She inched the dress higher, fully exposing the silk stocking tops to the sweating cab driver. "I'm very hot do you mind if I play with my pussy while you drive along?" "Bloody hell, you play all you want but don't blame me if we have a crash OK" Samantha's hand travelled over the elastic of her expensive panties and she sank her middle finger deep inside her steaming cunt. Her other hand went to her breasts and groped them, pinching at the nipple cruelly, causing a moan to escape from her lips, all the time her eyes never left the cab drivers face as she pouted at him. "You remind me of my daddy, would you mind if I called you Daddy? He likes to watch me play with myself as well, I'm his favourite little girl" The poor cab driver was lost for words now as Samantha reached over and playfully ran her hands over his throbbing cock before starting to undo his straining zipper. "Oooooh Daddy that is a big willy" The door to Henrietta St-John-Smythe's office opened and two black men both of about sixty years of age entered, dressed in dirty blue boiler suits, they were both over weight and smelly and couldn't be further from the vision of black health that Errol encapsulated. Henrietta could smell the booze on them already as they both eyed up their captive boss, licking their lips in anticipation. Despite her humiliation and revulsion Henrietta found her eyes wandering down to the rapidly hardening cocks that their boiler suits contained "Glad you could make it boys, she's all yours for the night all I ask is that she is here when I return in the morning OK?" "Sure Errol we won't let you down. Thanks for this man we won't forget it you can be sure" With that Errol turned and left and after winking at his White Bitch he was gone. "Well...well look at what we got ourselves here, a white bitch, look Billy its says so on her tits, how sweet. How did you get that name Miss precious club secretary?" Henrietta fought back tears as she was forced to swallow her pride "E...Errol thinks I act like a bitch in heat" Henrietta burned with shame and humiliation, feelings made all the worse by the two men openly laughing at her predicament. They were both unzipping their boiler suits now, exposing their rapidly hardening cocks for her hungry eyes, despite herself she could feel the familiar heat returning to her thighs as she eyed the black cock that she knew would play a large part in the rest of her night. "I bet white bitch would like to suck the black cock wouldn't she? I tell you what why don't you bark like a bitch to show us what you want!" Henrietta didn't think she could sink any lower as she breathed in, preparing to Bark like a dog for these scumbags, the same men she had disciplined not a week ago for misconduct. Once again her addiction took over, making her perform acts she would not have dared to contemplate a few weeks earlier. "Woof Woof" "What a good little bitch, maybe we should take you for a walk as you have been so good" Henrietta obediently got onto her hands and knees, her subservience almost second nature now as she assumed the position of animal in the presence of the men she had previously ruled over. "Good puppy now crawl over here and lick these black lollies we have for you" Lady Helen Archer stopped trying to deny how she felt, she was horny that's all there was to it, perfectly natural for a woman her age. But what to do about it, her husband was away in town and not expected back for a week at least, even then the chances were he wouldn't be interested. With Samantha out of the way Helen felt she might be due some fun of her own. She poured herself another glass of wine and sat herself down, feeling slightly tipsy and a little hot around the collar. She had been flustered all day, ever since that incident with the waiter. She had a horrible feeling that her exposure to him was what had started all this nonsense. She could not explain the fact that showing a complete stranger her underwear had aroused her immeasurably, in the dark recesses of her mind she knew his colour had something to do with it. He had appeared so powerful, despite the fact that he was supposed to be serving her, Helen felt a horrible compulsion to be at his feet instead, serving the hardness between his powerful thighs! She couldn't get his penis out of her mind, she had seen it only briefly, hidden though it was, but it had had an effect on her that she was ashamed to admit. She sipped her wine and shut her eyes, imagining a role reversal in which she was the waitress and he the diner. Her hand slipped under her dress exposing her silk panties as she sought to alleviate some of the yearning between her thighs. She was shocked at her wetness as her fingers pierced the folds of skin, releasing the fluid from within her, causing her panties to become even damper. Her mind was creating a scene now in which Errol was seated, taking dinner with a companion who Helen couldn't quiet make out as she was turned away momentarily. He was looking her up and down telling her what a fine figure of a woman she was, touching her thighs, feeling them in front of the other customers, teasing her stocking tops, making her groan as his hands went between her thighs, mirroring her own real life actions. She was ignoring the stares of the other diners as her tormentor exposed her to them, the looks of disapproval as she relished his touch and also her humiliation. Her fingers worked frantically in her cunt now as her orgasm, so needed today, approached. In her minds eye Errol has his hands on her cunt and was turning to his partner, asking her opinion on this fine looking waitress that he was undoing in front of the other seated diners. As the girl turned Helen gasps with shock, her breath catches in her throat at just the moment she is about to come, not only in her dream but in real life as well. Errol's partner is Samantha, her own daughter. Samantha was watching her precious Mummy not only acting the slut for this black man but also in the throes of a violent orgasm in front of a room full of people. With a groan Helen slumped back in the chair, her body shaking as she struggled to reconcile the power of her orgasm and the worrying images her fevered mind had imagined for her pleasure. Spent, like a rag doll with the stuffing hanging out of her, sweat pricking on her breasts and between her open thighs. She was too tired to register the shock her fantasy has caused her, her own daughter and a black man, both of them seemingly in control of her and her powerless to resist. She felt ill, revolted at herself, how could she orgasm to such a sick and twisted fantasy? She looked down at herself, what a mess, blouse open, breasts bulging from her half cup black satin bra. Her thighs spread wide open, stockings and soaked panties on full view, just like a slut, she thought. The use of that word, albeit in her head only sent a fresh thrill through her leaving her to wonder whether one orgasm will be enough tonight, she is at a total loss to explain the strength of her feelings As a little girl Samantha Archer had been told never to talk with her mouth full, all she could currently manage, as her lipstick covered lips sawed back and forth over the throbbing cock, was a muffled groaning noise. Samantha was in her element, on her knees, sucking on a thick black cock while each of her dainty hands massaged another one to full strength, ready to replace the one in her mouth when it inevitably exploded deep inside her throat. She had been in the pub all of five minutes before she had spotted a group of men drinking in a corner. She had never been to this particular pub before but knew it was where the men who couldn't find work usually ended up. There were five of them in all, drowning their sorrows and wondering what they had done to deserve such a poor lot in life. Samantha had sat at the bar waiting for one of them to make a move on her, eyes twinkling as she flashed her panties at them. One of their number spotted her and beckoned her over, she complied demurely, eyes cast down shyly, submissively. As she sat down with them she had lifted her dress once again showing her expensive lingerie and the by now very obvious damp patch on her pretty panties. The man she had sat next to had immediately got the message and had groped her roughly in front of his mates, to their obvious amazement and then amusement. Grinning lewdly as he felt her soaked gusset and roughly handled her coltish thighs, wanting to make the most of the situation before the stuck up girl changed her mind. The others didn't need much encouragement and within minutes Samantha's dress had been pulled down revealing her firm tits to the slavering onlookers. Samantha herself was in a state of high arousal as she became a plaything for the assembled men. Over the next ten minutes the entire group, under the ever-watchful gaze of the barman had blatantly groped Samantha in full view of the other patrons. Hands pawing at her young flesh, pinching her aching nipples, stripping her, delving inside her sopping cunt making her moan like he whore she knew she was. The barman locked the doors ensuring that the party remained strictly private, chances like this came along all to seldom to waste it on the riff raff. That had been over an hour ago. Samantha had worked her way through all the clientele by now, sucking each one until nature drew its own conclusion. Her stockings were shredded beyond all recognition, panties long taken as a prize. Cum ran down between her breasts, dripping from her chin as her mouth failed to cope with the volume of sticky fluid being shot deep inside it. She had lost count of the number of men she had satisfied, she had no idea how many of them had returned for seconds or thirds all she could think about was cock inside her, penetrating her making her whole. Thirty minutes later when all the men in the pub had had their fill of Samantha she was unceremoniously thrown out onto the street and told to return the following night for more of the same. Samantha had never felt so alive and so used, a grin plastered her sticky face as she made her way home, her come soaked body tingling all over as she hailed another cab for the return journey to relative normality. Henrietta St-John-Smythe crawled up yet another of the clubs long, wooden floor boarded, hallways. Her own stockings, like Samantha's, were in tatters, ruined by her crawling on the floor like an animal. All that remained of the conservative clothing she had put on for work that morning was her heels and stockings, everything else had been discarded along the cleaner's route round the building. The two men who currently ruled Henrietta's life had been having a great time. Little cleaning had got done but both of them had consumed a fair amount of booze and had more than their fare share of use of Henrietta's most intimate body parts. In the dark recesses of her hormone-drenched mind Henrietta knew she had loved it all. She had loved it when they had inserted a brooms handle in her aching cunt and made her sweep the lobby on her hands and knees with it protruding from her in an unsightly manner. She had loved it when they had tied her to the janitors trolley and made her pull them along on it, all the time barking like a like a dog in need of its dinner. As her tormentors rained blows down upon her upturned ass urging her on with stinging swats to her raised rump. Most of all though she had loved it when they had fucked her until she couldn't take any more, her mind and body screaming for an end to the sweet abuse it was receiving. What remained of her will had been swept away that night, she was a plaything a toy and she had learned to love it. She knew that sooner or later their shift would finish and she would be returned to her office to await the return of her Master. When he found her the last remaining vestiges of her propriety would be gone, fucked out of her. Henrietta knew she would be asking for more time with the janitors in the future. Samantha fumbled with the lock. She was exhausted after having to let the taxi driver fuck her for her fare, she could feel his come rolling down the insides of her sticky thighs. She needed sleep now more than anything else a chance for her abused body to rest and recuperate. As she opened the door and stepped into the hallway of her parents imposing country manor house she could clearly see into the living room. Despite the evenings activities Samantha Archer gasped at the sight that greeted her on the armchair in the living room. Her own Mother was fast asleep, nothing to out of the ordinary there, what did catch Samantha's eye however was the fact that her prim and proper Mother was in a state of undress not to dissimilar to that of her darling daughter. Her bra was on full view, straining to contain her firm breasts. Stocking tops were clearly to be seen under the hitched up Armani dress. Most shocking of all was the enormous damp patch on her Mothers panties, clearly visible above the delectable stocking clad thighs. Samantha stood rooted to the spot, drinking in the vision of her own Mother virtually naked and clearly having been involved in some sort of sexual activity. Samantha was exhausted but not to exhausted to let an opportunity like this pass her by. It was obvious to her now that her oh so reserved, stand offish, prim and repressed Mother had hidden depths to her as yet only guessed at personality. Samantha wondered when the poor woman had last been fucked, not for some time she suspected. As she stood there surveying the vision of middle aged womanhood in front of her Samantha found herself becoming aroused once more. She and her friends had played with each other many times. It was sort of a right of passage at boarding school. One of the older girls picked a new girl as a servant for the first term and the chores always involved some sort of sexual slavery as well as the domestic version. Many was the time Samantha had found herself wondering what her own Mother would be like in the sack, Mummy had gone to the same boarding school and must of gone thorough the same trials as the girls who attended now. Not for the first time that night Samantha hitched her skirt up exposing her sticky, torn stockings and her cunt, leaking as it was a fair amount of cab drivers come. Quickly, Samantha slipped a finger inside the slick folds of skin, coating it in her own juices and those of the cab drivers. She then offered the finger up to her Mothers slightly parted lips, her heart had virtually stopped beating as she dared not even breath, in case some sound awoke her sleeping Mother. Tentatively she offered the sticky finger to her lips, brushing them ever so slightly and then withdrawing them. Helen Archer moaned, her head moving slightly as if it wanted to take the finger inside its mouth. Samantha slipped her fingers inside Helen's mouth, the sticky goo on her fingers rubbing off on her lips and tongue. Samantha's other hand was busy under her own dress as she frantically rubbed her clit, juices streaming from within her, her own orgasm fast approaching. Despite the fact that Helen was asleep she was sucking on her daughter's fingers, moaning her arousal, Samantha could only wonder at what sort of dreams her Mother was having as her mouth slurped obscenely at her daughters fingers. Samantha could clearly see her Mother's own juices once again seeping through her exquisite panties. She wanted to touch her, finger her, make her groan like a slut, just like her darling daughter had done earlier on in the night. She didn't dare touch her any more than she already was though if her Mother awoke it would be a disaster. There was no way she could explain her actions to her, no matter how many glasses of wine dearest mummy had consumed that night. Her fingers were a blur now as she bucked against them, her other hand toying with her Mother's now sticky lips, ensuring every drop of fluid was sucked of the sticky digits. Samantha bit her tongue as she could feel her orgasm rising inside her, she had to keep control or else she risked being discovered in a state of undress and arousal with one hand in her cunt and one in her Mothers mouth. Finally she came, wave after wave of pleasure rolling over her, she steadied herself, eyes shut as the last ripples of pleasure played down her spine. Samantha slowly withdrew her fingers from Helen's pouting mouth, they had been sucked clean. She straightened herself and tip toed upstairs, wondering if her Mother would realise that her own daughter had come while she had been asleep dreaming her own sordid fantasies. Helen Archer pulled into the country club car park looking slightly rough round the edges. She had awoken on a chair in the living room, slightly dishevelled to say the least and with a very funny taste in her mouth. She had slept fitfully, her dreams punctuated with images of her Daughter and a series of faceless black men, all of whom were humiliating Helen with the help of Samantha. The worst part for Helen was the obvious arousal the dreams caused her, her panties had been soaked in her arousal, the intensity of feeling was almost too much for her to bear. Helen was in heat, there was no other explanation for her behaviour, she couldn't keep her hands off her body. The entire journey had been taken up by her playing with her nipples and stroking her thighs, wishing it was Errol doing these things to her. She had felt so naughty leaving one more button than usual undone on her blouse. Her skirt had ridden up when she got in the car and she had left it where it was, heart beating faster at the realisation that anyone looking in on her could see her panties and stockings. What was turning her on more than anything though was the thought of Errol seeing her, her pale thighs, her breasts, she wanted to see his dark skin contrasting with her own. All thoughts of having him disciplined and fired had gone from her head to be replaced with her desire to show off for him. Impress him with her figure show him, and herself, that she was still a desirable woman. As she parked her car, wheels crunching on the gravel, she noticed an extremely tall, elderly black gentleman in the country club livery. He was very fit looking for his age and must have been sixty if he was a day. His hair was going grey, giving it a sort of peppercorn look, he was also very broad and still looked as though he kept his stomach in shape. That was odd, she thought, where was the usual parking attendant? He had been a slightly doddery old gent who had been at the club since he was a boy. Had he to been replaced with a black man, the thought of it stirred something within Helen, her mind immediately conjuring up fresh images of her abuse, this time at the hands of the much older black man. She closed her eyes and imagined herself on her hands and knees in the car park, her tongue lapping at the man's shoes as he watched on with an arrogant sneer on his face. In her mind she could see the other club members pointing and laughing at her as she bent to lick the leather footwear, her ass on display for all to see as she was thoroughly humiliated by the older black man. She had no idea where her need for humiliation had sprung from, but it was becoming a major feature of her fantasies, her position of wealth and power meaning nothing as she was subjugated and treated like an animal. Tyrone Jackson hadn't believed his son, Errol, when he had told him all about the country club. He found it very hard to believe that it was filled to the brim with wealthy white women with nothing else to do all day but sip tea and chat about the state of the property market. He had found it even harder to believe when Errol had told him about Henrietta being his toy to play with as he saw fit. He had also been slightly suprised when his son told him he could get a job straight away at the club, all arranged by Henrietta of course. Lady Helen Archer: Black Cock Whore Tyrone was having to re-evaluate his thoughts now as he witnessed the display that Lady Archer was putting on for him, albeit unknown to herself, she was seemingly oblivious to his presence. He could clearly make out her nipples threatening to rip the silk of her white blouse. She was toying with one of them, pinching it roughly between her fingers as her other hand was stroking the skin above her stocking tops, all the while her head was tilted back an expression of obvious enjoyment on her face. Tyrone could feel his cock straining against his uniform trousers, he reached out to stroke it then had a better idea. Helen was snapped out of her reverie and into the real world once more by the noise of her car door opening. As her eyes re-focused she looked up only to be presented with the crotch of the black car park attendant. She was once again presented with the sight of a very large, thick cock straining inside a pair of black trousers, her addled brain quickly realised that she was the cause of such excitement in the older gentleman. Her blouse was gaping open revealing her flushed breasts. Her thighs were to be seen clearly framed by her suspender straps. She blushed furiously, unsure of what to say or do, her exposure had once again aroused her, the man was obviously enjoying the view, his straining cock testament to that fact. Tyrone offered her his large black hand and years of social training slotted into place as Lady Archer graciously accepted the help she needed to leave the car. She was slightly taken aback however when he pulled her slightly harder than was strictly necessary and she found herself pressed against his thick hard cock seemingly forcing itself into her churning stomach. A fresh wave of arousal pulsed between her thighs as she felt her legs go limp beneath her. "You take things steady their Lady Archer, you look as though you might faint. Let me take you to my office and sit you down, whoever you are meeting can wait for you for five minutes" Helen was unable to speak as she was lead away by the older man, her heart was pounding after her first touch of black cock, albeit inadvertently. In the back of her mind she wondered how much of an accident the encounter had been, never the less she longed to touch it more, to sink to her knees and kiss it greedily. Helen seriously doubted whether she would be able to resist this man if he wanted to touch her, use her, fuck her. She was a mess and she half knew that the only thing that would sort her out was a bloody hard fucking. "Here we are, old Tyrone will look after you now don't you worry your head" The car park cabin was sparsely furnished, just a chair and a table. Helen had been put in the chair while Tyrone moved about in the shed looking for something or other. Helen took the chance to straighten her blouse and skirt, making herself a little more ladylike in the process. "Oh no you don't get that skirt back up so I can see what you want to show me" The last vestiges of Helen's class and upbringing quickly rose to the surface in a last ditch effort to maintain her power and control of a situation she already knew she was lost into. "You c c can't talk to me like that! Do you know who I am?" "Lady I don't care who you are all I know is you were touching yourself up in my car park like a bitch who hadn't had a cock in her cunt for too long. Now show me your panties like a good little white girl before I make a complaint against you for touching my cock back there" Helen couldn't believe what she was hearing, the touch had been an accident anyone could have seen that, who would believe this hired helper over her? In her mind she could imagine the scandal however, almost hear the tabloid headlines as the tawdry story of the lady and the black man was laughed about in hundreds of pubs and bars across the country. Slowly she hitched the skirt up once again revealing her pale thighs and stockings to the man who was at the moment controlling her. As her panties came into view she was shamed to see that a damp patch was clearly evident on them. Further proof, as if any were needed, that Lady Helen Archer was clearly very aroused by her treatment. "That's better seems a shame to cover up such a great pair of thighs don't it?" Helen nodded numbly, her eyes trying, unsuccessfully, to drag themselves away from the man's crotch and what it contained. "You want to touch it don't you?" "I don't know what you mean" She replied haughtily. "God it's no wonder you don't get much fucking Lady. You want to touch my cock don't you? Now don't be so stuck up and tell me what you want" Helen could not quiet believe the conversation she was having with this man, she couldn't deny however that her cunt was on fire. Her entire body seemed to be screaming out for what lay between the older man's thick thighs. Her mind however was reeling as it tried to make sense of her feelings. He was lazily stroking it through his trousers, taunting Helen as he traced its length through the dark material, all the time an insolent smirk was plastered over his face as he gloated over the turmoil going on in Helen's head. Finally she caved in. "I...I...I would like to touch your penis" "My what?" Helen blushed still further, eyes downcast as waves of humiliation washed over her. "I...I...I would like to touch your cock" "Good girl, see that wasn't so hard now was it. Come over here and get your reward" Tyrone slowly drew the zip of his uniform trousers down allowing his swollen meat to spring into view. Helen couldn't drag her eyes away from it as it bobbed in front of her flushed face, its throbbing head inches from her mouth. Her hand hesitantly reached out for her prize, her elegant fingers struggling to close around the erect ebony shaft. She lovingly stroked her thumb over the end of the head of the throbbing vein covered shaft, causing Tyrone to groan his appreciation. "Damn woman you were born to play with cock" Helen almost didn't hear the compliment she was lost in a world that centred on the bobbing swollen flesh in front of her. She drank in its colour and lovingly traced the veins on its shaft. She noticed a drop of fluid at the very tip, as she bent her head forward to lick the fluid up she wondered if she had ever felt so horny in all her life. As her mouth closed around the purple head Helen suspected and hoped Tyrone's cock would be the first of many black cocks she would pleasure and have the pleasure of. To be continued...