Matriarch Pt. 06

The true calling of my life. A submissive slut slave whore cunt bitch cum bucket cock sucker 3 hole piece of fuck meat.

Then and now, I loved my life.

I gathered myself and scurried out of the room. I poured my son, my master a fresh cup of coffee and hurried back to the bedroom. He was sitting up. I served him and went to my knees, head down, waiting for instruction.

He sipped the coffee.

'Go about your day'.

'Sir'.

I backed out of the room.

After checking my list of things I wanted to do today, I noted that master hadn't added anything. I went to my room and slipped on a small shirt and a pair of shorts. I got a cup of coffee and a glass of juice. I put on socks and running shoes. I went to the basement and started up the treadmill.

It was still early when I came back upstairs. My master was gone. I didn't have time to relax. I made his and my bed, washed the dishes, swept the floor, wiped down everything and cleaned his bathroom. I was on the way to my bathroom for a shower when the phone rang.

I moved to get to it fast. I had just 3 rings to answer if my master was calling. He had left without breakfast, and occasionally he would go out for a short time, call and return for breakfast or a brunch. Early on, I just made him breakfast every day. He changed that. If he wanted food, he would tell me. He didn't eat at home as often as he did before, since Dana.

Dana had worked at his business. After a while trying to get his attention, he came to the conclusion that she was distracting him. After some time, he brought her home and told me that she was his property. She would be his number two, and I would be moved to third position. I didn't know what had happened, but I knew that she had worked for him, since I had seen her at his business before.

Since he answered to no one, I wasn't in a position to inquire what had happened and he didn't share the story with me. I now shared my life and love with Dana. Just as in every life change, there were some ups and downs, but I was now accepting and even happy about our arrangement. I had a master and a mistress. Life was interesting. It was a new and exciting time for me.

They still each had their own space, although I sensed that another change was coming. I felt like she would be living here soon. I saw small, subtle changes in her since the first time she had come to the house. It was as though the rough edges were being smoothed out, as her rules and behavior were being directed to eliminate any confusion as to her role. I had gone through the same thing 3 times now.

My master now often left early to meet Dana or go to her place. She still worked with him in some way, but I didn't know what she did or how she served him. Both of them seemed to share secrets that I wasn't allowed to know or even ask about. When they came in, my role was clearly defined. He was the king and she was the queen and I was their property.

Dana was clumsy in the beginning. As her role was defined and refined, she had become everything I could hope for. Being handled by a couple opened more doors for me than I ever imagined. It was twice the servitude, twice the punishment and twice the sexual reward. I got less attention from my son, but the combination of the two of them gave me more overall.

Anticipation was high, but the caller ID said it was my kid sister. I can't explain how it happened, it just happened. She was in trouble. I had to help. She had been in trouble before, so the news wasn't a big surprise. Things often worked themselves out, but this seemed like a real crisis. I made the first of several bad decisions that day.

My sister got in trouble on her 18th birthday. Her friends took her out, and since she had no curfew, it became a party night. Around midnight, she ended up at a party. More than a little drunk, she set her sights on sobering up. She was coming down when she found herself in a line for the bathroom. After a long wait, she finally got her turn.

She told me that she didn't know exactly how or when it happened, but she found that her panties were wet. Her dress was short, but long enough to keep her covered, so she took her panties off and stuffed them in her purse. Not long after, she was being chatted up by a couple of football players.

The music was loud and there were a lot of people talking. The guys steered her toward a quieter spot when she tripped over a small hassock. Her skirt came up, and anyone who was looking at that moment would have seen that she was naked under her dress. Fortunately, most didn't look up at the fall until after she had smoothed the dress back out covering herself. The football players, on the other hand, got a very good look.

They ended up on a side porch. A third player had joined them. It was 3 very large black men and a single little white girl. Not quite drunk, but still tipsy, she was being kissed by one of the guys. Eventually, he slipped his hand under her dress and began to play with her wet pussy.

I didn't get all of the details, but it seems she ended up having sex with all 3 players. She didn't refer to it as a rape, and she had a lot of confusion within herself about how it all went down. One guy pulled her skirt up and entered her. During the act, another kissed her and pulled down her dress, exposing her breasts. He played with and sucked her boobs, and when he offered his cock to her, she didn't refuse and took him in her mouth.

When the first guy finished, the second took his place. She wasn't fully aware that there had been a switch. Minutes later, a second black cock erupted inside her. The third guy moved in and took his turn and before she could grasp what had happened, 3 different loads of cum were dripping down her thighs. Nine months later, she gave birth, didn't know who the father was, and had been kicked out of the house.

A few months went by and she had a job and a small apartment. She was making it on her own, but living a meager life. She was turning toward public assistance, hoping to get ahead. She had no love life. Guys she was attracted to ran the other way when they saw her baby. She grew to believe that she would never be able to have a normal life, and that no white guy would accept her having a black baby.

One day, she ran into one of the football players. She hadn't seen any of them since the party, and didn't even know their names. She had gotten her cute body back, and he seemed to notice. He said he was home for the weekend, and wanted to see the baby. She was excited and gave him her address and phone number.

The next night, all 3 guys showed up at her tiny apartment. They fussed over the baby, and when the baby was down for the night, turned their attentions toward the young girl. After a few drinks and some playing around, they each again took turns on her. By the time they left 3 days later, she realized that she had been used again.

She had spent the weekend naked and on her back, as one cock after another made deposits in her pussy and mouth. She realized that she still didn't know any more than their first names. One was playing football in college somewhere and one was just out of basic training and had the weekend before he was reporting to his new training base. The third guy only lived a few streets away, but she never saw him again. They just traveled in different circles.

She had a second son, got fired and lived on full welfare for a time. Every time she seemed to get her act together, she got dragged back down. That was her story, but the truth was that she gave up. She would have some minor improvements to her life before pinning all of her hopes on a situation that never worked out.

Boyfriends got tired of her after a short time and dumped her. She would call off once too often at work and they'd fire her. She would be late with her rent once too often and they'd kick her out. After kissing and being fucked by a lot of frogs, she met a black guy that had a good job, was nice and seemed to treat her good. The day she got the news that she was pregnant again was the same day her man told her that he was going back to his wife. He denied being the father and moved out of state before she even delivered.

She spread her legs a few times through the years, but mainly focused on raising her kids alone. She never had a real boyfriend. She drank some. The kids got in some trouble. She was broke more often than she wasn't, and the family didn't want anything to do with her. She would call me and give the updates on her latest tragedy, but we never saw each other. She didn't ask for anything and I never offered. She had her life and I had mine.

I always hoped that the calls from her would be good news. More often than not, the news wasn't good. This call, however, was bad news on bad news. She was broken down, kicked out and out of options. It turns out that her oldest son had been picking up the mail as he left the building every day. He would see nothing of interest to him, and would toss the envelopes, unopened, in the trash on his way to wherever he was going.

When her water and electric were both turned off the same morning and the sheriff knocked on the door to give her a 10 day eviction, her support had also been cut off. She missed a deadline for reporting to the welfare office. She was fighting and losing every battle. In some cases, there was even proof of delivery, when her oldest had actually signed for letters that she never saw.

I left messages for my son. On my sister's third call, I broke down and invited them to come and stay with me. I knew that this was a unique situation. I knew there was only one option for me. I knew I had to make a decision. I knew my son would understand. I was wrong at every turn.