Date: Mon, 16 Jul 2018 00:30:54 +0000 From: Jacob Wiseass Subject: TALES OF A DEDICATED JACK OF SPADES This story is fiction. Any resemblance to actual events or real persons is purely coincidental. This story may include unprotected sex. In real life, don't gamble, play safe. If it is illegal for you to read this story because of your age, location, or any other reason, then don't read it. This work is copyrighted by the Author. Commercial use or reproduction is prohibited without permission. Last, but not least, help keep Nifty alive with your donations. Be generous. TALES OF A DEDICATED JACK OF SPADES Yeah baby the line forms to the right...two holes no waiting. I had a great night last night. On Sundays I set up a pop-up glory hole at the University near town. I didn't get much traffic the first couple of weeks I had it but then I put an ad on FetLife and it got really busy last night. In the ad I wrote "special attention and no limits for black men". So I had 8 turnouts: 1 was Asian, 1 was Mexican 3 were white guys, one was Middle Eastern of some kind, and two were my Black Kings. They came at the end so I locked the door to the storage closet where I set up the glory hole and let them enjoy me any way they wanted. The other guys were straight blow jobs, no swallowing. But these two guys got drained twice each in my ass and mouth and then pissed all over me when they were done. I tried to get a drink but they were having none of it. But when they left, promising to come back next week, I bent to the concrete floor and lapped up their piss before it got cold. I hope they bring friends next week. __________________________ Yeah, I know, it sounds hot in your head. I mean what kind of self-proclaimed faggot wouldn't like to let loose on a couple of big black cocks. But for most of you, all you think about is the fantasy of being filled with BBC and that's okay. But what that makes you is not a "jack of spades". What that makes you is someone who has made black cock a fetish. I, on the other hand, am a 57-year-old white, inferior slave, serving the superior black race whenever I can. My husband is white as well and I serve him in every way that he desires because he is not only my husband, but he is also my Master. Even he recognizes that my calling to serve all Black Kings is a life long calling for me, since my teenage years, and therefore awards me the freedom to serve any dominant black men who choose to use me. Sometimes that is for house duties such as manual labor or cleaning and sometimes it is in a sexual manner. I am tattooed with a Jack of Spades symbol that I had acquired before I met my husband/Master. It is on my chest so it is mostly hidden. Except at the gym where I work out every morning. The tattoo got noticed pretty quickly but mostly ignored. Until about 10 months into my workout schedule at the gym. I had been training under Ted, one of the toughest trainers they had. And I could really begin to see how my hard work was paying off. Then after a particularly intense leg day, around three in the afternoon, I was taking a shower and catching a steam. On that day, a young black man entered the steam room, no more then 18-19 tops, skinny like the kids are today, wrapped in a towel. I swear I thought he would break if a high wind caught him unawares. He sat across from me and just stared at me through the slats of his eyes. When the steam room emptied he asked me directly... "That jack of spades tattoo for real?" I looked down at my chest and didn't know how to answer the young fella. He continued... "Yeah my moms is a white woman, and Dad, he be black. He had her tattooed one day with a Queen of Spades tattoo, look a lot like yours." "Really..." I answered still at a loss for words. "Yeah, pops told me that night at dinner what the tattoo meant; that it meant my moms had been turned out as a full on whore for black cock." "uhmmm"...I was knocking him dead with my fast-talking self. "Yeah, not that I was really surprised because I was always stumbling in on full out orgies at my house with mostly white women servicing black dudes...and my moms was always right in the middle of it handling as many cocks as she could take." "Wow, what did you think about that?" I finally asked. "Well, I was pretty freaked out in the beginning because I was only 15, but then my moms explained to me why she did it and it made sense," "What did she say?" "Well she taught me all about her belief that the black African Nations were meant to be the dominant race on earth and that all of humanity came from Africa in the beginning. And how Blacks were far superior to all other races, but especially over whites. She told me how she believed that the best way she could serve this New World Order of Black Superiority is to become a slave to the Black Race and to Black Men in particular." There was a pause in the conversation as he just stared at me. "So is that what your tattoo means man...except yours is a Jack instead of a Queen because you're a dude?" I stalled for a moment but his deep stare seemed to cut through my bullshit. "Yes, that is what my tattoo stands for, exactly." I said openly for the first time in a long time. A long pause as the young king just stared at my tattoo. Then without any warning..."Cool," he says and then jumps off the bench and makes his way over to the door that exits to the showers. The next day, when I came in to sign in at the front desk, there was a request that I speak to the owner in his office. "Shit," I thought, maybe the kid complained or something and I was going to get kicked out. But no matter what he said, I never touched him once. So I made my way back to the main office and was met at the door by a short little guy, kind of looking like an accountant, who invited me into his office and offered me a seat. Well the long and short of it was that management of this particular gym thought it might be advantageous for me if I began to work out at their sister gym a few blocks away. I knew this had to do with the kid, and I started to complain, but I was cut off before I even got started. "Let me assure you Mr. Watson, this is not in any way an admonition on yourself. Indeed no, this new gym has the most exclusive clientele. It's an all-male facility instead of the co-ed gym that we are here. And the trainers over there really know how to work you hard to get the best results. Ted has been singing your praises to all of us and we have also noticed your significant gains in muscle tone since starting here." "And what if I said no, that I wanted to stay here?" "Then things would continue on as they have been and you would continue working under Ted. But we just thought it might be a better fit for you to begin working under Jed instead, as he feels he can truly bring out the best in you, and take your body to heights that Ted simply never accomplished with you." And then he pointed to the picture wall where all the club's trainers were hung and he focused my attention on the picture of Jed the trainer...and my breath caught in my chest, and I thought I would pass out. He was perfection, absolute perfection. You take a moment and think about every single black celebrity or stud that you have ever lusted after and this guy was hotter. So I took him up on his offer to try out their new gym... but that's a tale for another day. ____________________________ Sorry that last message was short Sir, but we are having a winter storm here and I thought the power might go out and I would lose my WiFi. To continue my stats for you, my dick is really small but my balls are big. Go figure. Hard, I am about 4 inches and soft it kind of disappears. We played around with chastity last year and we couldn't find a cage smallÊenough for me as it kept slipping off which kind of defeats the purpose; which is another reason for my shame, which makes me so hot. I am naked at all times at home unless we have people over. If a delivery man comes to the door I have to answer it with a sheet wrapped around myself which sometimes can get tricky when I have to sign for the package. One time the UPS driver, a beautifully muscled ebony god, apologized for interrupting my shower and without thinking I blurted out... "Oh I wasn't in the shower, my Master doesn't allow me to wear clothes in his home." I loved the look in his eyes. He told me "next time you should answer the door without the sheet." I asked him, "But Sir, how will I know it is you delivering the package?" He said, "Bitch, you won't know, but who cares. They can't arrest you for being naked in your own home. And if anyone comes to your door who doesn't want to see your pathetic little prick on display, then they will know not to come back here again. I'm betting it'll cut down the number of Mormon missionaries that knock on your door." Then he laughed a deep guttural laugh that got my dicklet hard as a rock. I told him... "I will ask my Master when he gets home." So he reached up and whipped the sheet off of me so I was standing naked in the front door where anyone walking or driving by could see me. And when he did he saw the `jack of spades' symbol tattooed on my chest. "Oh so you're a JofS boy?" "Yes Sir" I answered. "Then what is wrong with this picture, boi?" It took me too long to realize my mistake. I was busy looking around to make sure no one was looking at my nakedness. I was distracted. But the UPS driver brought me back to center with a sharp backhand across my face. I reeled from the impact, but he got my attention. I was worried about the bruise he might have left on my cheek, and my left eye hurt as well...but the harsh blow managed to pull my attention back to where it should be, honoring the Black King standing in front of me. "I'm sorry Sir," I offered as I fell to my knees in front of him. What my neighbors thought at this point was overridden by my ingrained training to honor the King in front of me. "That's better bitch. Now crawl out here on to your Master's front porch." Which I did. Then he took his permanent black marker pen and wrote something on my back... "Show that to your Master when he gets home." Then he left, laughing to himself, driving off, leaving me kneeling on the front porch, fully naked, in plain view of anyone who wished to look. I didn't know what to do as the UPS god never released me from this position, and I had been trained well in my youth to never move until a Black superior gave me orders to do so. And so I stayed where I was, fully exposed, hoping that my Master would get home soon. After about 15 minutes I was relieved to see the UPS truck pull back into the driveway. `Great,' I thought, `he's going to tell me to go inside.' "Hey faggot..." he yelled from the driveway, and I could almost feel the stares moving in my direction. "Please Sir," I begged from my knees. "Please let me go back inside Sir. I can't let the neighbors see me like this. My Master was always very clear that I should cover up if I went outside." "Yeah, well your Master isn't here right now, is he bitch?" "No, Sir." "And let me guess bitch, your Master is white." "How do you...?" "Because if your Master was black then his orders and training would have over-ridden my own. But because he's white, even though he's your Master, a Black King definitely is the trump card in your life." I hid my face in shame. "Now, when is he due home?" he asks, staring down at me kneeling before him. "He gets home at 5:30pm every day Sir, and I have to have his dinner ready on the table by 6:00pm sharp." I could hear the whining tone seeping into my voice. God I hated it when I sounded like such a fag. Mr. UPS god, laughed at me as he stepped up to the bottom of the stairs leading up to the porch. "Please Sir, let me go in..." I begged as I cowered by the front door. Why was I letting this happen to me? Why didn't I get up and go inside when I had the chance to do so when he was gone? Then the UPS god answered my question for me when he grabbed me by my hair and sent me rolling down the steps in front of the house. My screams of fear caught the attention of the 2 boys playing at the corner. "Please Sir, don't..." and again he nearly knocked me out with another slap across the face. This caught the attention of the two lads even further and they jumped on their bikes and slowly rode over towards the house. I was mortified and shamed to my core. The boys were maybe 15-16 years old and they just parked their bikes at the end of our driveway and stared at me cringing and begging at this man's feet. "What's going on?" one of them asked. "How old are you boys?" demanded the UPS god. "We're both almost 17. Why?" "Because I'm trying to decide if you are old enough to witness what's going on here." "They're not Sir, please just let me go inside..." but my words were cut off again by his boot hauling off and kicking me in the ass. "Pay attention boys." They were all eyes and ears. I hadn't taken the time to even look at them yet but when I did I noticed that one of them was Joey, the boy who mowed our lawn and took care of our garden. I almost died inside because he lived next door to us and I often sat and watched him for hours as he worked in our garden or when he was in his room at home because I could see through his window from ours. He was an absolutely beautiful boy, the very definition of skater boy, tall and lithe, curly blond hair, and one of those lanky long bodies that just ran with wiry sinew. He always called me `Sir' and treated me with respect. Well that's over. The other lad was Joey's best friend. A beautiful ebony prince who starred on the High School Football team as quarterback. Jared had a beautiful smile and a great personality who, although new to the neighborhood and school, was already making his mark on our little community. "What you have in front of you here boys is a faggot. And a faggot was created to serve real men. But more than that, this faggot is also a slave, which means he was created to serve Masters, those Alpha men who dominate in their lives. But even more than that, boys, if you look at his chest here you will see that he has been marked for life as a Jack of Spades. Now you, young brother..." he says turning to Jared, "you need to pay very close attention here." "Okay." I hear Jared's deep voice. "Tell him Jack of Spades slave, tell young Jared here what that symbol means tattooed on your chest." And I did. I told him the whole story. And something weird happened as I did so. My shame left me. I began to describe the Jack of Spades symbology with my eyes downcast at the young man's dirty sneakers. But as I told the history of black suppression at the hands of whites and how the reality was opposite to what we were taught in school; how civilization's very roots lay in Mother Africa and so it made sense that those of African descent were actually closest to Creation's perfection. Then I went on and explained the New World Order Movement of Black Supremacy and white control. I shared with both young boys my fervent belief in the superiority of black men and that I have dedicated my life to the service of Black King's needs, any Black King, and any need. By the time I was done I was tall on my knees, my dicklet was hard as a rock, and I had forgotten that I was naked in front of our home with the UPS god and two underage boys staring at me. The quiet was broken by the UPS god ordering Joey to lead me behind the shrubs that lined our front yard. Then he took Jared aside and with an arm over his shoulder he had a private conversation. Young Joey looked really shaken. "Is all that true Mr. Watson?" "It's what I believe Joey, but you have to make up your own mind." I answered. "So does that mean because I'm white I have to be a slave like you?" he asked, voice wavering. "No, Joey, not at all. To be a dedicated Jack of Spades is like a calling, almost a religious calling to service. Not everyone experiences that call, to that level of degradation and shame." I explained. And I could see the relief come over his face. "Get out here faggot!" UPS bellowed. And I quickly made my way back onto the walkway that fronted our home, in wide view of everyone passing by. "Yes Sir?" I asked, lowering my eyes from meeting his. "Get over here boy" and I moved further out in to the open, by his truck on our driveway. "Stay still bitch" he ordered as he undid his pants and lowered his zipper. Then in a flash he started to soak me in his piss. It was flooding me, raining down over my head and in my eyes which I closed against the sting. "Eyes open cunt!" and the rain began to focus in on my poor stinging eyes as I fought against every gut reaction I had to close my eyes and protect them. The rain continued, and out of my peripheral vision I could see Joey watching with his mouth hanging open in shock, while his friend Jared was watching with rapt attention at my predicament. When the UPS god was finished showering me with his waste, I sputtered and spat trying to gain my breath after the deluge. My eyes were running with internal liquid trying to wash themselves of the impurities that they had just been attacked with. And through it all I heard the UPS god's deep laughter as he got in his truck and drove away. "Keep your eyes on him boys. Make sure he doesn't try to sneak in until his Master gets home." "Sure will" yelled back Jared with a new found glee in his voice. And there we were as the evening was setting in, one piss soaked jack of spades, on his knees in his own driveway, being guarded by two teenagers, in plain sight of anyone who wished to look. "I'm fucked" I thought to myself as the hot sun beat down on my body, causing the piss to both stink and itch. TO BE CONTINUED... I hope you are enjoying this story so far. If you are drop me a note at jacobwiseass@outlook.com Any suggestions for future encounters, drop me a line as well. Copyright 2018