She Makes Peter Turn free porn video

Did she have a hidden agenda? Was her Ishtar to dominate white men driven by some racial hatred or need to seek revenge for her enslaved ancestors? By all outward appearances, that would appear to be the case. But Mistress Ishtar was far more complex than superficial appearances would allow. Black, strong, confident, and proud, there was no mistaking that the Domina was proud of her African heritage and took pleasure in reducing her white submissives to whatever it was that they feared the most. There was a certain subtlety she possessed that could not be defined by labels.

She chose to meet him in a very public bar. It was a gay bar in fact, and it was on the evening of the citywide famous drag show. Queens weren’t the only people in attendance, butches, studs, lipsticks, straights, bisexuals and everyone in between showed up to revel in the god damned decadence and defiance the night represented. Anyone who wanted to thumb their nose at the status quo and acknowledge that they couldn’t be defined sexually by the strict and puritanical morals of the Bible belt felt comfortable showing up. There was plenty of hootin’ and hollerin’ for the glammed up female impersonators doing yet another rendition of “Rollin on the River” and “It’s Raining Men.” Her date for the evening did not fit in that category. After hours of subtle interrogation, she had determined that his greatest fear was being seen for who he really is. He was an introvert, a social recluse of sorts that wanted to keep his Ishtars hidden from everyone, including himself. Inside, he was a slut. Not just any slut, a slut of the most insatiable, perverted, depraved kind. He wanted someone to force him to bring out his dark fantasies and help him to become who he felt he really was inside.

She was taking a chance that he wouldn’t show but she was betting that the chemistry and the desperation he felt to fulfill his Ishtars would be motivation enough for him to make the leap into the unknown. She positioned herself at the far end of the bar at a table where she could see him enter. If her assessment was wrong and he didn’t show up, she would entertain herself with the spectacle of others that wanted to exhibit their sexuality for the entire world to see. He hadn’t cum in over three weeks and he had been nightly aroused with descriptive tales of her fantasies and Ishtars. The Internet and the phone were vastly different than the adventure he was about to go on however.

Stevie Wonder could have seen him walk through the front door. Nervous as hell, he looked around the place needing only the tiniest of excuses to turn around and leave. The promises of mind-blowing strapon anal assaults and wild, uninhibited sexual release propelled him to move forward. He spotted her immediately. She didn’t have to signal for him or make her presence known to him; she exuded the regal stature whereby he knew her immediately. He made his way to her table and she had his favorite drink waiting for him. He downed it with one gulp and nervously looked around taking in all the sights.

“Peter, did you do as I instructed?” He lifted his arm that had been lying casually in his lap above the table and showed his baby smooth, hairless body; the only hair remaining on his body being under his arms and above the neck. She placed her hand under the table and felt for the evidence of his other command. Apparent through his clothes was a harder than steel erection and the telltale signs of a cock ring. He swallowed hard as she stroked him through his clothes, knowing full well that he couldn’t cum restrained as he was. They settled back and began to converse; controlling the flow of the exchange with her eyes and her will. He knew he was being dominated and it was more than sexual.

She d****d her legs over his and he instinctively began to massage her silken calves. He swallowed hard as he glanced down and realized that her pussy was exposed just inches away from him under her short dress. “Listen, can we get out of here? I did what you asked and I’m just not comfortable here,” he stammered, his eyes darting around the room to make sure no one he knew was there. She laughed politely and ignored his comment, stroking his exposed arm and caressing his face with her soft fingertips.

As the lights dimmed and a slow song began to play to supplement the time between performances, they were interrupted by the most breathtaking Black man in the bar approaching the table. Dressed impeccably, not a bit shy of 6’2”, masculine, and looking like he stepped off the pages of a magazine, he extended his hand to the nervous submissive and said, “Would you care to dance?”

“No thanks, I’m not gay,” Peter managed to eek out, looking like a dear caught in headlights more than unassuming business professional that wielded so much confidence at his place of work.

“He’d love to,” Ishtar answered, moving her legs and placing her submissive’s hand gently in that of his suitor’s.



He was in a state of shock. He had specifically told Mistress Ishtar that he wouldn’t do anything with another man. He was straight. The confusion in his eyes, the panic, the anger overwhelmed him. He had limits that were not negotiable. Being submissive and being gay were too different things. “He stood firm on his decision, “No thanks,” he said with determination, “I’m not gay.”

He reached for his keys in his pocket and began to stand. “Listen, I don’t know what sort of games you are playing but I’m not interested, Go fuck yourself bitch.”

Ishtar laughed at his defiance and placed her hand gently on his arm and leaned in close. Her voice was sweet and gentle. “Peter, you are standing on the verge of all of your dreams come true. Before you leave, think about everything that we’ve been through to get to this point, are you willing to throw it all away for a dance? Think of all the nights online where your heart felt like it was pounding out of your chest and you were begging me to use you in any way possible. Think about the things you went through to gain my favor. You know I’m the only woman that can push you past your fears. Are you ready to throw that all away for a silly little dance? If you leave, you’ll go home and jerk off in solitude dreaming of the things that could have been. Do you want to do that Peter? Do you want to abandon the potential for your wildest fantasies to come true?”

Her voice never went above a whisper. “You can leave you little bitch but don’t you dare think of contacting me again. Think about trying to find another Mistress like me that will make you feel like the depraved dirty slut that I bring out in you. Haven’t you always wanted to be the submissive bitch boy to a superior Black domme? The night of indescribable sensation that you’ve waited for is there for you. All you have to do is dance. Go! I won’t think about you ever again, but can you say the same thing about me?”

The synapses in Peter’s brain were misfiring. He was pissed and aroused. The gentleman waiting for the dance chimed in, tired of waiting and said, “Listen, don’t worry about it.” He turned to walk away.

“Wait,” Peter said meekly. Ishtar leaned even closer, the warmth of her body penetrating Peter’s aura. She whispered something in his ear and leaned back. Peter stood, fighting back the tears, and said with defiance in his voice, “Wait, I’d love to dance.” He knew that the dance was not the not to be the end of his test.

Slightly shorter than this beautiful specimen of a man before him, he didn’t even know where to place his hands. His dance partner took control. He placed Peter’s arms around his neck and pulled Peter close. Peter swallowed hard, his frustration showing in the color in his cheeks. The alcohol in his system allowed him to relax just enough, knowing that this humiliation would be over in less than three minutes. He shut out the people around him and danced, it was more like moved to the music; he was never really that good of a dancer. Peter had to hold on to reality. He was getting confused. The arms around his waist made him feel sexy. A feeling of security and arousal enveloped him. The sexy black shoulder that he rested his head upon was comforting. He could feel full lips brush against his neck and he yielded to the temptation to moan ever so slightly at the sensation. Strong Black hands caressed his ass. He froze momentarily; his ass had always been a highly erogenous zone for him but he made sure that he only fantasized about women taking him there. But behind the safety of his closed eyes, in the secure embrace of the beautiful man that held him, he erotically thrust his ass back and forth, fantasizing about being fucked by his Mistress later on. The hands grabbing his ass were forceful and he loved the sensation of being taken . . . forced, which only cause him to grind his ass harder and harder against his dance partner.

“Uhmmm, the song’s over. Would you like another dance?” Peter was snapped back into reality.

“No . . . hell no! I was just dancing with you because . . . No.” Peter knew his defensiveness was transparent but he had to maintain his façade of defiance if only for his own sense of well-being.




Back at the table, Mistress Ishtar chuckled as Peter slid into the seat next to her. The Black gentleman slid into the booth across from them. “You were so right Ishtar, his little cock was hard the entire time. And the way he was grinding his ass on me, I can tell he’s going to be one hot fuck.”

“I told you his slutty side would come out, Derrick. When will you learn to trust me?” Their laughter burning his ears like acid would burn his flesh. They were sitting there causally discussing his little cock, his slutty nature, and the plans that they had made to in advance. Peter was incensed. He fumed at the thought that this was all a set up and he mumbled something under his breath. He stood to rise and leave when the gentleman said, “Sit down, bitch. We didn’t tell you that you could leave.”

A lump formed in his throat as Peter felt helpless to move. His cock had no such limitations. It was raging hard and hurting from being constrained as it was. The casual power that the Black man had over him at that moment made him feel like the submissive slut he had longed to feel like. He wondered momentarily if they had slipped something in his drink to make him have . . . you know, those kinds of thoughts.

“What’s going on here? I thought . . .,” he was mumbling incoherently. Ishtar giggled and ignored him momentarily.

“Oh, forgive my manners. Peter, I would like you to meet Derrick. He’s my lover. We like to play together. He’s the male version of me, don’t you think? Derrick. . . you’ve already met Peter.” The rapid eye movement of Peter indicated confusion. “You didn’t honestly think someone as breathtaking as him would actually be attracted to someone like you, did you?” She laughed even louder, Peter afraid that her amusement would be draw attention to them. He felt unattractive with her comment but that somehow aroused him even more. He wondered what people would think, a white man sitting there with two Black people. He was sure everyone in the place could read his mind. Peter couldn’t even discern his own thoughts at that moment. All sorts of thoughts ran through his mind about what the two of them had in mind for him. He feared the outcome if he decided to let them go through with their plans and he was terrified of letting the extreme sensation of arousal that he was experiencing go.

For years, his attraction to Black women had consumed his every fantasy. He loved their strength and their assuredness. He loved their comfort and sophistication. White women hadn’t aroused him in the better part of four years or more. They were insignificant to him except on the rare occasion he fantasized about having a white wife that would be a slut for black cock. Occasionally, he would dream of having a white wife that craved huge black cocks fucking her mouth, pussy and asshole unmercilessly while he served the Black wives of those men in whatever degrading or humiliating ways they saw fit. Those thoughts didn’t seem realistic, his conservative wife would never think of such things, so he dismissed them as a fleeting fantasy. He was comfy defining himself as submissive to Black women. A submissive of the most extreme proportions. If he were to allow himself to be honest and frank about his own Ishtars, there had been many nights he has dreamt of being forced to be a cross-dressing sissy for Black cock, but he wanted to be “forced” so he could absolve himself of the guilt of desiring those yummy Black studs. He allowed himself to freely fantasize about Black women all the time, and all the things that he would do for them.

“Let’s go,” her directive was simple and to the point. Out into the night air, Peter had more reservations. All the “ifs” and the “what ifs” and logistics were causing him to panic. He stood helpless, like a c***d, waiting for further instruction. They were in control.

Derrick and Mistress Ishtar kissed in the darkness and shadows of the parking lot. They held hands and ignored Peter but they were ever aware of his presence behind them as they made out while he watched. They approached an SUV and opened the back door and Derrick turned momentarily to tell Peter to get in. Other than that, they were ignoring him as if he was insignificant to their arousal. Peter, on the other hand, was mesmerized watching them kiss. Their skin looked so . . . different. They seemed so . . . powerful. It was intoxicating to watch them together.

He stepped in the back seat and closed the door behind him as he regretted not telling someone whom he was going to meet, getting some significant contact information from this woman in case something went wrong. Derrick drove while he and Ishtar chatted and laughed and occasionally looked in the rear view mirror. He went to adjust his cock as it had been hard for hours before meeting her and the dull ache in his nuts was a sweet and painful reminder of that fact. He wanted those nuts to be kicked, slapped, and twisted at the hands of the gorgeous mistress that sat in the passenger side of the truck in front of him. His boypussy was throbbing thinking about being fucked savagely. The pair in front of him seemed so sensuous, so oblivious to his presence, he wondered if they would forget about him and leave him to stroke his hard cock while he watched them make love or if he would be allowed to cum at all.

His thoughts were about to be answered as they pulled into the driveway of a lovely home. It was secluded and well maintained and more fears crept into his mind. He had more fears and more fantasies of what was to come as well. Ishtar slid the door open and said, “Get out.” He complied eagerly, in a fog of lust at that stage from the hours of pent up arousal.

As he stepped into the night air again, Peter felt more alive than he had ever felt in his life. Mistress Ishtar circled him, her body close without touching him. She ran her nails along the side of his face lightly, sending chills down his body. “Undress,” she said calmly.

Peter looked around confused. Surely she was not going to make him undress in the driveway. It was too early in the evening; people were awake, watching television, someone might see.

“Undress now!”

As if in a trance, Peter began to undress in the middle of the driveway. Derrick had entered the house and was nowhere in sight. He wasn’t sure what to do with his clothes so he folded them as he undressed and placed them in a neat pile on the ground. He removed his shoes first, feeling more comfortable with that accessory than a major piece of clothing. He removed his shirt next. At that moment, he wished he had the smooth, rippling muscles that most black men seemed to have and he felt ashamed of his pale complexion. Next to go were his pants. His tightie whities bulged obscenely in the front from the erection he was sporting and the cock ring in place. He pulled his socks off and stood in anticipation of his next command. He felt even more naked because he was hairless. Somehow it made him feel more vulnerable.

“I said undress.” Her voice was so damned soothing and melodic, he felt helpless to deny her anything.

He slid his underwear down, his erection bobbing in the night air. Even at full erection, he was barely six inches. He always told inevitable Internet lie that he was six inches erect but that was only in the most extreme state of arousal. Tonight, he was convinced he might be a little more than six even.

Mistress Ishtar stroked his cock in the cool night air. The sensation was indescribable. Her hands were so soft and silky, he was under her control, people could be watching and he knew that he had planned a night to explore his wildest fantasies. He moaned out loud as she stroked him with skill.

“Tell me what you want, Peter. Tell me why you are here.”

The words came tumbling out of his mouth as if they had been rehearsed. “I want to be used by you, my superior Black queen. I want you to put me in my place as the inferior white boy that I am. I want you to take out your frustrations on me and make me your bitch. Humiliate me, Mistress. force me to do unspeakable things. I want you to show me that you have power over me. Use me any way you see fit, Mistress. I belong to you.”

The more he confessed his Ishtars, the more she stroked him. This Black woman, fully dressed, masturbating a completely nude white male in, seemingly her front yard, making him spill his guts. If anyone were looking they would have gotten an eyeful.

“Put your clothes in the backseat and bend over with your hands on the floor of the truck. He did what he was instructed to do and waited even further instruction.

“Let’s see if this pussy is as slutty as you claim it is,” she mused.

She spread his ass cheeks and rubbed her fingertip over his hole. He let out a slight moan. His knees were shaking and he was glad that he could brace himself on the frame of the truck, his ass exposed for the entire world to see. Mistress Ishtar slid her finger in to his unlubricated hole. That was nothing to him, he had gotten so used to fucking himself he actually leaked “pussy juice” as he called it when he was horny. His ass was always ready to be penetrated by a huge, black dildo any time of the day or night. She began fingering him harder, driving him to maniacal fits of pleasure.

She was giving him more pleasure than he had ever imagined. Gone were all inhibitions and he was anxious for more. “Oh, yessssss, Mistress. Finger my pussy, pleaaase.” If her fingers were just a little longer, she could have reached his spot. She knew exactly what she was doing and she worked his pussy like a pro.

She pulled her fingers out of his ass abruptly, causing him to cry out, his moans echoing off the cul-de-sac serenity. “Get on your hands and knees and crawl to the front door. Wait there until you are allowed in.” With that, she walked away up the walkway and entered the home.

Peter was lost. He stood shakily and closed the truck door quietly, hoping not to draw any more attention than his previous moans and display had garnered. He willingly got on his hands and knees and crawled on the walkway to the front door. His hands and knees ached from the concrete but he relished the pain in anticipation of his fate to come. He knelt submissively at the door and waited. He suspected that they were watching him so he posed like a prize a****l at a show. He arched his back and thrust his ass high in the air, showing that he was ready for anything. He lowered his head in submission, to prove that he was lowly and insignificant. His erection couldn’t be seen in his kneeling position but it was red from arousal and restraint. He wanted to be beautiful to all the eyes watching him, to whomever they may have belonged. He didn’t care if the nosey neighbors saw him, in fact, he wanted them to see him for who he really was. He wanted to be on display as a submissive to Blacks and he was proud of that fact.

In an instant, the porch lights were turned on and he was flooded with light. He maintained his composure and pride, sticking his ass out even more and lowering his head to the ground. His asshole was throbbing and desperate for penetration and his soul craved humiliation. At that moment, the door opened and he heard his Mistress command him to come in. He crawled forward with confidence and agility.

She stroked him like a pet, running her hands through his hair and down his back. Peter purred like a kitten and humped the air like a bitch in heat. She placed a collar around his neck but he was afraid to tell her it was a little too tight so he suffered in silence. It was a good discomfort, one he would gladly suffer for the Divine Mistress that stood above him. She put a leash on his collar and pulled him in the direction of a back room. The carpet under his knees felt good compared to the concrete but the pain in his nuts was ever present.

She opened the door to a playroom and pulled him in unceremoniously. The furnishings were sparse but there was no denying it was a room for hedonistic Ishtars. Not quite a dungeon and far from a spare bedroom, there were toys and tables, and chairs that had been designed for play. Derrick was there, naked and erect, oiled and glistening, a vision of ebony perfection. She dropped the leash and commanded Peter to stay, like a puppy being trained. Ishtar and Derrick conspired, whispering and planning what to do with their toy. Derrick assisted her in undressing, the way they interacted making them look like dancers more so than anything else. Her body was a work of art. Her skin looked like the smoothest velvet and her curves were a sculptor’s dream.

She walked over to a table and picked up a strapon. Derrick helped her put it in place as Peter began to whimper u*********sly at the thought of what was to come. “Silence, bitch,” as she continued to secure her harness and what looked like a nine inch black dildo to her sleek frame. Peter was dizzy with lust and confusion.

Ishtar sat in a chair and motioned for Peter to come closer. “This, my pet, is going to be very simple. You are going to suck my dick until you prove that you are a cock craved whore and then you are going to get your slutty white boycunt pounded by the most formidable Black cock that you’ve ever seen. Does that sound okay with you?”

Peter nodded furiously as he was anxious to get underway. She leaned back in the chair casually and Peter took in every inch of her beauty. Her face was a face that could launch a thousand ships, her body was athletic and toned. Her nipples were dark and puffy and Peter longed to feel them in is mouth. Her legs were out of this world. They seemed to go on forever. She stroked her strapon like it was real flesh. He approached her with confidence. He had sucked his own toys enough to know exactly how to do it. He had prepared himself to deepthroat dildos that didn’t look humanly possible to swallow.

His assault was calculated. He wanted to show her a cocksucker like she had never seen before. He had often fantasized what it would be like to have such a huge dick and he had practiced sucking his toys the way he would want his cock sucked if he were a black man. He maintained eye contact with her as he began to lick sensuously up and down the shaft. He licked the head and circled it with his tongue and began stroking it with his hand methodically. He licked up and down the shaft, inching his mouth closer and closer to the sweet pussy that lay underneath, the scent of it making his little red cock leak profusely with precum. He placed his mouth over the head and began his descent. Barely more than half of it was in his mouth and it was already hitting the back of his throat. It was thicker than he had ever sucked before but he was determined to show her that he was a good slut for her.

Her words fueled his passion to do an even better job. “Come on you dirty white cocksucker, show me what a slut you are for my juicy black cock. Suck my beautiful black dick. Tell me you love it.”

He went into a cocksucking frenzy. “Yes, Mistress. I’m in love with your big, black cock. It tastes so good in my mouth. I love being your white cocksucker. Feed me your cum.” He was sucking harder and faster, taking it deeper and deeper. His spit was dripping down the side; he wanted to be like the white whores he saw in all the videos that gave messy blowjobs.

She grabbed the back of his head and forced him all the way down on her “cock.” He choked and gasped for air and he felt like he was going to pass out. The head of the black toy was deep in his throat and he felt like he was going to puke. He kept sucking. He sucked and she pumped until they were in a rhythm. He was taking every inch down his throat in every thrust. Every time she would let him up for air, she would ask him, “Do you want some more?” He nodded affirmatively but he eagerness was evidenced in the fact that he wouldn’t stop sucking and licking that sexy black strapon.

“You’re ready to get your pussy fucked, aren’t you?” He nodded uncontrollable, only stopping for a few seconds before he continued to lick and suck and swallow her strapon. “Derrick, get him ready for me, will you please?”

Peter froze for a second. He was past the point of pretense or care and all he wanted was to be used. He arched his back as he felt lubricant being poured on his hole. Derrick’s fingers were longer, thicker, and penetrated him more completely than Ishtar’s fingers had previously done. He moaned in appreciation of the stimulation and sucked that much more. She kept taunting him with her words,” you want to get fucked by a big black cock, to be a white faggot whore to be used by the Superior Black race, don’t you?

He didn’t have time to answer. His mouth was crammed full of the strapon and he was sucking it like a whore. At that instant, he felt the head of Derrick’s dick at the entrance to his pussy. He reached his hand back to feel its size and to guide it in but he wasn’t prepared for what he encountered. It was as thick as a beer can and twice as long.

“Noooo,” he cried out, “I can’t take that, please no.” The words coming out of his mouth rang of fear but his heart told a different tale. He craved the pain of being used by Black people to rid him of his horrible guilt, to make him feel as inferior had he knew himself to be. He wanted to be fucked like a white rag doll and he wanted to earn his punishment. The head burned as it penetrated him and he turned back to suck the strapon to distract himself. Ishtar had unhooked the dildo and spread her legs wide and presented him with her wet slit.

Peter was experiencing sensory overload. A Black man was about to fuck him with the biggest black cock he had ever seen and before him was a sexy Black woman shoving her pussy in his face. He cried out, “Fuck me. Fuck my mouth, Fuck my pussy. Use me. Fuck me!!!” Tears formed in his eyes. He was lowered to a mass of flesh and lust at the hands of these Ebony gods.

The cock in his ass pushed its way past his sphincter and deep into his bowels. It hurt. It was the kind of pain ushered in by the grandest pleasure. The sweet, sexy pussy in his face tasted like heaven. He felt what he previously thought was impossible . . . Derrick’s balls were firmly against his own. He was impaled on that massive meat.

He licked the clit in his face furiously as he wanted his Mistress to come in his mouth. “More . . . more . . . more,” he kept chanting.

Derrick began slapping his ass and calling him names and it sent Peter into a lust-driven high. The pounding was harder now, he was being fucked without mercy. His guts ached, his prostate had never had that sort of stimulation and he was eating the wet musky cunt of his sexy Nubian Mistress. His tears were uncontrollable. His balls were aching. He started stroking his own cock uncontrollably as he unsnapped the cock ring and let out a cry. His cum exploded from his prick as Ishtar held his head to her spasming pussy and Derrick unloaded blast after thick blast of thick, hot cum in his well used pussy. He passed out from the pleasure and the pain.

It was early morning when they dropped him off at the parking lot of the gay bar where they met. They had used him in so many delicious and unspeakable ways he couldn’t remember them all. They were kinder to him then when they first met, treating him like a pet now more than a plaything. He was desperate for some sign that he had pleased them. “Will I see you again? Would you like to use me some more?” The longing in his eyes a telltale sign of the delight he had taken in being fucked so completely.

“Know that tonight was c***d’s play compared to what you will experience again,” Ishtar said. They drove off into the early morning, masters of dominant pleasure.