I moved into the apartment next door on a Tuesday and by Friday night I was on my knees with my neighbor's thick black cock stretching my throat. His name was Marcus. Six-foot-four, broad shoulders, skin like dark chocolate, and an attitude that said he owned whatever he wanted. I was thirty-two, white, average build, and had never so much as kissed a man before that week. One look from him changed everything.
He caught me staring while I was carrying boxes up the stairs. "You need help with that, boy?" he asked, voice low and rough. I nodded like an idiot. He took the heaviest box, carried it inside my place without asking, and when he set it down he looked me over slow. "You live alone?" I told him yes. "Good," he said. "Come over tomorrow after work. Don't be late."
I showed up at seven. He opened the door wearing nothing but gray sweatpants that hung low on his hips. His dick was already half-hard, the outline thick and heavy down one leg. "Strip," he said the second the door closed. I froze. He didn't repeat himself. He just waited, arms crossed, until I started pulling off my clothes with shaking hands. When I was naked he walked around me once, grabbed my ass hard, and squeezed. "Nice. You'll do."
He pushed me to my knees right there in the living room. "Open your mouth." His cock was massive up close, veined, dark, the head already glistening. I hesitated and he slapped my cheek with it, not hard, just enough to make me gasp. Then he shoved it between my lips. I gagged on the first thrust but he didn't stop. He held my head with both hands and fucked my throat in steady strokes, telling me exactly what I was. "That's it, white boy. Choke on that black dick. You're gonna learn to take it all."
I drooled down my chin, eyes watering, but I stayed on my knees and let him use me. When he pulled out I was coughing and hard as hell. He noticed. "Look at that little white cock standing up. You like being my throat slut already." He hauled me up, bent me over the back of his couch, and spread my ass. One thick finger pushed inside dry. I hissed but he just worked it deeper. "Tight. Gonna have to stretch this hole before I breed it."
He used spit and lube from a bottle on the table, working two fingers, then three, while I moaned and pushed back. When he decided I was ready he lined up that fat cockhead and drove in. The stretch burned like fire. I clawed the couch cushions and begged without words. Marcus didn't slow down. He buried every inch and started pounding, balls slapping my ass, one hand gripping the back of my neck. "Take it," he growled. "This is what you came here for. Say it."
"I'm your slave," I choked out. The words felt filthy and right at the same time.
He fucked me harder. "Louder."
"I'm your fucking slave, Marcus. Use me."
He came deep inside me with a grunt, flooding my guts. When he pulled out he made me stay bent over so he could watch his load leak down my thighs. Then he shoved two fingers back in and scooped some up, feeding it to me. "Clean it. Taste what your new owner gave you."
That was the first night. It only got dirtier after that.
Every evening after work I went straight to his place. Sometimes he made me strip in the hallway before I even got inside. Sometimes he kept me in a jockstrap and nothing else while he watched the game, making me suck him slow and steady between commercials. He started calling me his white slave boy in public too, low enough that only I could hear when we passed in the parking lot. "Later I'm putting you in cuffs and wrecking that hole again," he'd murmur. My dick would twitch every time.
One weekend he invited two of his friends over. Both black, both built. They sat on the couch drinking while Marcus had me naked on the floor between them. "Show them what you are," he ordered. I crawled to the first guy and opened his pants. His cock was just as big. I sucked him while Marcus's other friend stroked himself watching. They took turns using my mouth, calling me names, slapping my face with their dicks when I needed air. Marcus filmed it on his phone. "For when you forget who owns you," he said.
Later they bent me over the coffee table and took turns fucking me. Marcus went last, pushing into my already sloppy hole and pounding until I was shaking and shooting untouched onto the floor. They left me there leaking, used, and sore. Marcus made me thank each of them at the door on my knees.
By the end of the month I barely slept in my own apartment. Marcus gave me a collar to wear whenever I was with him. He locked it on and kept the key. "You're mine now," he told me while I rode his cock reverse, ass spread wide for him to watch. "Say it every time you come."
I came hard, babbling, "I'm your slave, I'm your slave, fuck, I'm yours."
He kept using me daily. Mornings before work he'd bend me over the kitchen counter and breed me quick, then plug my ass so I carried his load all day. Evenings were longer, more intense. He introduced a cage for my dick, locking it on and only unlocking it when he wanted to watch me come from getting fucked. The denial made me desperate. I begged for his cock constantly.
One night he had me on all fours, collar clipped to a leash, while he fucked me slow and deep. "Tell me what you are," he demanded, pulling the leash tight.
"Your slave," I gasped. "Black neighbor's white slave. Use my holes whenever you want."
He came inside me again, then made me lick him clean while he told me the rules. No coming without permission. No underwear unless he allowed it. I was to keep my hole shaved and ready. If he texted, I dropped everything and came to him.
I agreed to all of it.
By then I couldn't imagine anything else. Marcus owned my body and I loved every filthy second of it. When he finally let me come that night, still impaled on his cock, I shot so hard I saw stars. He laughed low, slapped my ass, and told me to get ready for round two.
I was already hard again before he finished speaking.
