Archive-name: Slaves/bssb.txt

Archive-author: Ms. Barbara Coleman and Ms. Lucille Day

Archive-title: Black Stenographers Strike Back





      The old office building was run down. The once white neighborhood was

now all black, and the area was constantly affected by crime. In the Nolan

Building, the first seven floors were vacant. Only the ninth floor was in

steady use, and this was a black publishing company known as "Sepia Review".



      The total office personnel consisted of the owner, Mrs. Jardine, a black

woman in her early fifties, and eleven female staff members. Four were

stenographers, and the remaining seven were responsible for putting together

each monthly issue. On this particular day, everyone was quite unhappy.

Another white advertiser had dropped his monthly ad. That terrible act was the

fifth in the past month.



      None of the white bookstores or white newsstands wanted to carry "Sepia

Review". "God damn white capitalists, they tell us to make it on our own, but

when we try, they won't even offer a helping hand." This was Ann Thompson

speaking, a tall, extremely well-built black stenographer. She had a very live

audience in the girls that were listening. At this moment, each of them hated

Mister Whitey.



      Mrs. Jardine had already informed them that the magazine might go under

within the year, but that there would be no layoffs before that time.



      Each night, the girls always went down in groups of two or three,

because the elevators were not safe in this almost deserted building.



      The owner held on to it because he knew its value would skyrocket in the

next three years. Mrs. Jardine's company paid his upkeep expenses.



      By contractual agreement, the owner was required to supply a full time

custodian to take care of the office needs, empty the trash, clean the

offices, and in general supply the necessary custodial services.



      Francis Ipano was twenty three, a previously unemployed high school

graduate, fairly good-looking, and white. The building owner gave him the job

only because Francis did not request a big salary. His duties were fairly

simple: keep the place clean, and see Mrs. Jardine about any office needs she

might have.



      Ann Thompson had her desk right at the front door. At one time she had

been the receptionist, but now, no one visited. They were too afraid of the

neighborhood. Behind Ann sat Joyce, very tall yet very feminine in an almost

Amazonian way. The other girls occupied desks all the way back to the glass

enclosed office where Mrs. Jardine tried to keep the company together.



      Although the miniskirt was now obsolete, both Ann and Joyce wore them

every day. They were sort of trying to out-do each other, but they were

inseparable friends. The only panties they ever wore were soft pink nylon

bikinis with lace trim. It seems that a traveling store buyer once sold them a

gross for a very good price, probably because they were hot, and now each girl

owned seventy-two pairs of pink lace panties.



      When you work in an office day in and day out with no visitors, you tend

to relax in the way you sit, sometimes exposing yourself. Ann had fallen into

this habit. Joyce was the same way, but her desk had a closed front, while

Ann's was wide open, exposing her lower waist to anyone who might come to the

glass- paneled door. On this particular day, she was sitting very carelessly,

legs wide open, slouched down at her desk so that part of her marvelous

posterior was hanging off the edge of the chair. Her panties had worked their

way into the hairy folds of her cunt, and the sight being offered was erotic,

to say the least.



      Now, Francis was about to leave the elevator to meet Mrs. Jardine, to

tell her he was the new custodian. The old black janitor had retired.



      Ann was busy reading 'Cosmopolitan', and did not notice Francis

approaching the front door. He stopped. His eyes could not miss the bizarre

display of black thighs and pink lace panties. He kept staring, feeling an

erection begin to grow immediately. The crotch of her panties had completely

sunk into the full soft folds of her cunt lips, allowing Francis to see the

very lips themselves and the black forest of hair surrounding them. Her

buttock cheeks were also there to see, as they hung fully below the edge of

the chair. He was breathing very erratically.



      She glanced up, but Francis did not catch her eyes as they watched his.

She did not move. Quietly she called to Joyce to attract her attention, and

both women sat there watching as Francis as he stared at the mysterious spot

all girls have. His hand touched his crotch, rubbing ever so gently. Then he

saw her looking. His hand fell to his side, his face turned scarlet, and he

seemed to jump.



      Ann kept smiling at him. He lowered his eyes and entered the office. His

red cheeks were so damn obvious. He approached Ann's desk.



      "Yes, may I be of assistance?" She tried to sound very businesslike, but

she was ready to crack up laughing at his nervous state. "Good morning, ma'am.

I'm your new custodian, and I'm supposed to see Mrs. Jardine."



      "Oh, is that all you is? Here I was, using my best office voice, and you

ain't nothing but a honky cleanup man - or should I say 'boy'? Wait a minute."

She used the intercom. "Mrs. Jardine, the new custodian is here. Yes ma'am,

right away." Looking back at Francis, she smirked, "Okay, white boy, you go

right down this aisle here to that funny glass room. You got that?"



      He stumbled by her desk, almost tripping. Joyce and Ann were watching

him very closely. He was strange. 



      After he entered Mrs. Jardine's office, Joyce turned to Ann. "What do

you make of that honky? He seemed all shook up, didn't he? He was staring at

your pussy all that time? Why, you black floozy!" They both broke up laughing.



      Mrs. Jardine was busy explaining Francis' duties to him. She was not

prejudiced in the least, and treated him very warmly. "Now, you go down to my

receptionist, Miss Ann Thompson, and she will show you where the shreddings

are that must be picked up every day. I hope you enjoy your job here, Francis,

and good luck."



      Joyce watched him as he approached Ann. She did not bother to turn to

face him, and after a very awkward and silent moment, he walked around to the

front of her desk. Ann kept on reading 'Cosmopolitan'. He stood there quietly

while Joyce stared at him quizzically. He shifted from foot to foot, and soon

Pam and Louise had stopped working to join in with Joyce, staring at this

grown man waiting for Ann to acknowledge him. Ann knew he was there; she was

just playing games with him. She wanted to see just how long this honky would

stand there.



      Finally, he choked out a word. "Ma'am?" Silence. "Ma'am?" Ann did not

look up. "Yes?" she replied quietly. He almost whispered. "Mrs. Jardine said

you would show me where the shredding pickups are to be made." Ann did not

budge. "Alright, but wait until I finish this article." Now the girls had

whispered to one another, and everyone was staring at Francis. Ann continued

to read. Francis did not budge from the spot.



      He knew this was foolish. After all, he did not work for them, but for

the owner, Mr. Quinn. Perhaps he should walk over to the table, pick up a

magazine, and read while he waited for this very direct female to be ready for

him. He felt all of their eyes staring at him. He turned in the direction of

the small table, but Ann stopped him without even raising her eyes. She knew

all of the fellow workers were watching with erotic interest. Ann liked an

audience. "Just where do you think you're going?"



      Francis stopped cold. "Just to pick up a magazine, Ma'am, if that's

alright?" Ann waited until she was sure her group was listening. "No, it's not

alright. You stay put until I'm ready!"



      Now you could hear a pin drop. All of the typewriters were silent. Only

the turning of a page was heard as Ann continued her reading. Francis got red,

then more so. Joyce was trying to hold a giggle in. Pam stood up. She could

not really believe that this was happening. Francis swayed uneasily, as his

feet seemed to be getting numb. He wanted to shift from one foot to the other,

but was too afraid to move. Minutes ticked by. Five, then ten. This was

unbelievable. Why was he allowing this to happen?



      Finally, Ann closed the magazine and stood up. She smoothed out her

miniskirt, looked at the girls knowingly, and took off. "Follow me." Francis

was caught off guard, but when he realized that she was about to show him his

job, he sort of jumped forward nervously and caught up to her, but stayed a

few inches behind her left shoulder. Soon they were out of sight.



      "Hey, Joyce, what the hell was that all about? Ann acted like she owned

that honky. Why the hell did he stay there all that time?" Joyce smiled.



      "I think Ann owns our new janitor. You get that, Pam? You get my

meaning? That guy was cooked the minute he saw Ann's pussy. Man, I'll bet

she's having a ball with him right now."



      "That's shredder number 1. Every day, you get every scrap of paper from

inside it and around it, and take it down to the big incinerator in the

basement. The same goes for shredders 2, 3, and 4. You got that? And I mean

every shred. Also, there are two bathrooms, one right down the hall that

everyone uses, and a smaller one up on the tenth floor. I know that the tenth

floor is deserted, but Joyce and I use the one up there. It gives us the

privacy to smoke a joint and talk freely when it's slow down here. I don't

have to tell you that both bathrooms are to be kept spotless, especially the

one that Joyce and I use."



      "Twice weekly, you mop the offices. On Friday, you clean Mrs. Jardine's

office. I guess that's all for now. Do you have any questions?" Francis had

none. All the time that she had been talking, Francis stared at her with great

interest, trying to please her with his intention of doing a good job. She

waited. He did not know what to say or do. They were all alone in the cutting

room, with only the background noise breaking the silence. She walked over to

the old wooden desk in the corner, giving Francis a slow, full picture of her

rounded but firm buttocks. She then hiked her short skirt up nearly to her

waist and sat on the edge of the desk. Her legs were wide open, and Francis

began to salivate as his eyes had to peer into the warm, dark vision. Ann

loved it. His whole docile manner. What a yo yo he was, she thought to

herself.



      She saw the erection forming in his tan work pants. She let him look a

few more minutes, and then told him that he had better get started with the

shredders since they had not been emptied in almost a week. She left him and

returned to the office. The minutes she walked in, all the girls were up and

at her desk, wanting to know what had happened with the new honky custodian.

Ann sat there, smiling at them, patiently listing their questions in her mind.



      "Now, I'm sure that you innocents will have no idea of what I'm talking

about, but that skinny white boy is what I call slave material. See, you girls

don't even know what I'm talking about, do you? Hey, Leslie honey, remember

that day you were complaining to me that black men don't like to French? Well,

that white boy that just left here will eat your pussy until summertime if you

tell him to. Dig? TELL him to. Oh, what's the use - it just doesn't ring a

bell, does it? Did you all see how scared he was? Doesn't that make you

wonder? What do you think a straight guy would have done? Do you think he

would have stayed put in one place for that long? Whitey did, though!"



      The girls were all just staring at her with blank looks on their faces.

Not Joyce, though. She had been friends with Ann for over ten years, and they

had read about males who were like this Francis. "Hey Joyce, how about you and

me having lunch together today? I want to talk to you about something."



      Francis worked hard in the shredding room. The week long build up of

paper had made the job that much more difficult. He got over seven barrels of

shredded paper from each shredding room. When Joyce and Ann entered the

elevator to go to lunch, Francis was only thirty feet away, working on the

second shredding room. The girls went to the Capri Lounge because Ann said

that she wanted to have a drink with lunch. After the cocktails were served,

Ann settled back, smiled at Joyce, and began what was destined to become the

most bizarre conversation that they had ever had together.



      "Joyce, honey, you remember that night about a year ago, when we read

that magazine about dominant females? Do you remember what we talked about?

C'mon, Joyce, what were we talking about that night? Remember?



      It was pouring rain, and we had just looked at the picture of the naked

guy in chains." Joyce looked at her. "Yeah! I can see you remember! Well,

Joyce, I had an idea today. I think it's really wild, but I won't go through

with it unless you think it'd be fun too."



      Joyce sipped her drink, half laughing, half staring in astonishment at

her closest friend. "Ann, I don't know what you got in mind, but you got THAT

look, and this is the first time we drank our lunch in a long time. But I'm

game, honey, to anything you say."



      Ann swallowed the rest of her drink, ordered another, and then started

to talk again. "I got the idea just as we started talking a little while ago.

It has something to do with that other bathroom on the tenth floor. You know,

our little private bathroom. Are you with me, girl? Oh shit, I hope so!"



      Ann began to unfold her bizarre plan to Joyce. The young woman's eyes

just got wider and wider. "You've got to be kidding, Ann, you've just got to

be." Ann smiled. "Why, Joyce? Everybody talks and talks and talks, but you and

I got us a chance to really do something wild. You know you want to, don't

you? If you chicken out now, Joyce, we'll never get another chance. If we pull

that fuse in the elevator, then no one, not even that new janitor, can get to

the tenth floor. The stairs aren't safe. And no one would want to, since the

tenth floor is deserted.  C'mon, Joyce, what do you say?"



      Finally, they ordered another drink and shook hands. It was all set.

That evening they would meet at Ann's to discuss their plan of attack. It was

very risky, but if they did it right, it would work, and they would feel so

erotic just knowing what they did. That evening they lay in bed in each

other's arms and went over everything in detail, time and time again. When

they finally fell asleep, Joyce was lying at Ann's feet with her face resting

on the full brown thigh.



      The following morning, Ann kept her eyes peeled for Francis. She had to

give him orders in a very nonchalant way so that he would be at the tenth

floor bathroom at exactly noon. At ten-thirty that morning she saw him pass

her office on his way to the third shredding room. She told Pam that she was

going to take a coffee break, and left the office. Joyce watched her leave,

knowing where she was going, and feeling her heart beat faster at the thought

of what was yet to come.



      Francis did not hear her coming in. He was picking loose scraps of paper

up from the floor and loading them into a big trash bag. When she spoke, he

almost lost his balance turning toward her. She loved the fear that seemed to

come over him whenever he saw her. No words were spoken, but they both knew

the power she had simply by being there. "How's it going, Francis? Catching on

to all the rules? Good. You just might work out if you stay on the ball and do

as you're told."



      Francis could not help but to answer her with his head downcast. She

liked that. It showed respect, but more importantly, fear. "Today I want to

show you how I want the bathroom on the tenth floor cleaned for Joyce and me,

so I want you up there at today at noon sharp. Do I detect a question in your

face? No ifs, ands, or buts, Francis. You be there at twelve exactly, and

Joyce and I will instruct you on how to keep OUR private bathroom just the way

we want it."



      With that, she came closer and pinched his cheek, which made his face a

deep scarlet. "I like you, Francis, do you know that? I think you're very

sweet. I like a man who knows his place, and you know your place, don't you?

Do you know what a slave is, Francis? No? Well, you and I should talk about

that someday. You would be perfect. See you at twelve."



      With that, she was gone. Francis was trembling. He did not want to meet

them on the tenth floor. He was afraid of them, especially Ann.  Perhaps they

really wanted to show him how to clean the bathroom properly. For two days

now, he had tried to avoid this very attractive black girl who scared him just

by being in his presence. But he knew he had to be there at twelve or this

girl was going to be very angry, and for some unknown reason, he did not want

to anger her.



      It was eleven forty-five, and Joyce was standing by Ann's desk. She was

very nervous and Ann sensed it. "Relax, baby. This is going to be fun for us

for a long time. Try to look at it as fun, okay?" Joyce smiled.



      She was looking forward to carrying out their plans, but she was scared,

too. Her panties were damp, so she knew in her heart that the idea was

appealing to her.



      It was a slow day, and both Joyce and Ann had permission to take two

hours for lunch instead of one, on the pretense of shopping. At twelve noon,

they made sure the hallway was empty, and they boarded the elevator for the

tenth floor.



      Francis was waiting. He had been there for almost twenty frightening

minutes. He did not know why he came up so early - he just did. He had not

been able to concentrate on his work since Ann had spoken to him that morning.

He wished that she was coming alone instead of with the other girl, but he had

nothing to say about it, one way or the other.



      The tenth floor was empty space, cold, dark, and deserted. The bathroom

was about eighty feet from the elevator doors, and Francis was standing

outside of it waiting for the elevator light to blink red. He knew that his

heart was going to leap into his throat once it did. He had peeked into the

bathroom earlier. It was definitely a ladies room, still usable, still quite

fashionable. There were five stalls. Four were still functional, but the last

one, near the window, was empty. The toilet had been removed, but the pipes

still remained in the cold tile floor.



      The red light blinked. He jumped. His eyes stared as the doors slowly

parted, and then he saw Ann and Joyce walking toward him. They were so big.

Not fat - in fact they were lean and shapely. But tall. And feminine. In high

heels they both had a good six inches on him.



      Francis was very slim, and hardly five feet nine inches tall. As they

got closer, he felt their eyes looking more and more down at him instead of at

him. "Well, I see that you're punctual, Francis. That's good. Do you know

Joyce? No? Well, Joyce, say hello to Francis. He's going to keep our toilets

nice and clean for us."



      Both girls could see how scared he was, and this only increased their

anticipation of what they were planning to do. Francis had to follow them into

the sunlit tile-covered room. He stood there very red faced as Ann opened on

of the stall doors. She called him over, pointing to the bowl, where inside

the water lay quietly.



      "Now, Francis, I want these bowls to be spotless. No stains, no marks,

just sparkling white porcelain. And get some of those blue disinfectant things

that go into the tank. Oh darn, I have to pee. Hold on for minute, Francis."

He was standing just inside the cubicle, and Joyce was right behind him. Ann

began to lift her skirt, and he started to turn away. "Relax, Francis, you can

watch. We're friends, aren't we? There is no need for you to be shy with Joyce

and me, is there?"



      She pulled her pink lace panties down to her knees and sat on the cold

seat, spreading her legs with her dress up around her hips. Francis tried to

look away, but his eyes were drawn to the black pussy on display. Joyce was

soaking her panties with tiny orgasms. "Hey, Francis, your eyes are going to

burn a hole in my pussy. Is this the first pussy you ever saw?" He got redder

and redder. He could not speak. "Hey, are you a virgin? Well, I'll be damned,

you are a virgin."



      She had wiped herself, and was pulling her panties up, dropping her

skirt down over her shapely legs. Then she pointed to the window. "I want that

window cleaned inside and out, so that there is plenty of natural sunlight in

here all the time. And these basins - get the stains out and keep them

spotless." Now came the moment that Ann and Joyce had worried so much about.

The test. Was Francis really putty in their hands? First came the simple test,

and if it worked, then came the rest of the plan.



      Ann turned to Francis, while Joyce stood just to his left. They both

towered over him, and his back was against the cold tiled wall. "I am being

nice to you today, Francis, because you are new, but if you fuck up any of

these chores, do you know what I'm going to do to you?"



      Francis shuddered visibly. His eyes could not find any way to avoid both

women, who were staring at him intently. His voice sounded girlish as he

replied that he did not know.



      Ann gently ran her fingers through his thick black hair, then closed her

fingers and pulled upward until he was standing on tiptoe before her. She

brought her face close to his, until their noses were touching. "If you fuck

up, Francis, Joyce and I are going to whip your lily white ass until you can't

stand up. Do you understand? Good, but don't just say 'yes'. Say 'Yes,

Mistress Ann' or 'Yes, Mistress Joyce'. Now do you understand? That's a good

boy.  I think Joyce and I are going to be very pleased with you. Yes, I do."



      She was still pulling upward on his hair, and he just sort of hung there

on tiptoe staring helplessly into her eyes. The tears of humiliation were

hiding just beyond his eyelids. Joyce wanted to join in, but there was no room

for her, so she just stood there to his left, enjoying this erotic scene

ecstatically. "Now, Francis, how do we know that you'll be all of the things

that we want you to be? You can just tell us you will be, but once I release

you, you may just be lying to us. I know you'll say that you aren't, but how

do we know for sure? I say we give you a little test right now, and if you

pass it, the we'll know that you'll be a good obedient slave for us, okay,

Francis?"



      His hair felt as if it was coming out by the roots. He had no choice but

to agree, and he answered, "Yes, Mistress Ann." She was delighted. "You

remembered to address us properly. I really am proud of you already, Francis.

Aren't you, Joyce?"



      Now she pulled harder, and he whimpered babylike. "Before we start

testing you, Francis, I think it's only fair to tell you what Joyce and I are

like when we get pissed off. If you could see us when we lose our tempers, you

would be so scared that you would run out of the room. Do you get my meaning,

Francis? When we test you now, I think that the wisest thing for you to do is

to obey us immediately, or else you get to see our bad sides. But I'm not

worried about you, Francis. You've been doing fine so far."



      Now Ann released him, and she and Joyce walked over to the bathroom

door, and stood there, blocking it. Francis ran his fingers through his scalp

to soothe the painful tingling. He then looked at the two 



      determined black girls, wondering what was coming next. He knew that he

intended to pass their test no matter what it was. He knew that they were

alone up on this deserted floor, with the nearest person three reinforced

concrete floors below. He was terrified of Ann. To disobey her might mean real

harm, while obedience meant that she would be pleased with him.



      He was sure that the test would be something like cleaning a sink or a

toilet, and he intended to make it spotless. All of his cleaning supplies were

just outside the door. 



      "Francis?" He looked at Ann, who was smiling. "Yes, Mistress Ann?" She

stared hard, hoping he would realize what trouble he was in if he failed to

obey her NOW. "Take off all of your clothes, Francis!"



      The words reached his ears, then his brain. He looked at her

quizzically. Then fear set in. Strip? Had he heard her correctly? "You're not

obeying me, Francis," she warned. Why his clothes? Did she mean all of them?

She was looking very mean now, and so was Joyce. He started to unbutton his

shirt. His fingers trembled so hard he could hardly undo each button. "You're

very slow, Francis. I hope I can control my temper with you."



      He laid the shirt on the basin. What should he take off next? He had to

do something. He bent over and then removed his shoes and his socks. Now, he

hesitated. "Francis, I was very happy with you a few minutes ago. You

addressed us correctly, and Joyce and I thought we had a nice warm friendship

started. But we are getting angry now, and in a minute your ass is going to be

very sorry that you fucked up the way you are doing now. I am going to warn

you for the last time, and I do hope you listen to me. Get your clothes off

NOW, Francis!"



      Her voice had changed drastically. There was no smile. Her girl friend

looked extremely angry. He dreaded removing any more clothing in this brightly

sunlit bathroom in front of these two dominant black girls, but what could he

do? He was afraid not to obey her.



      He tugged his tee shirt over his head. He felt so naked already. His

pale chest was almost totally hairless. His hands went to his belt buckle. He

could not look at either of them as he slid his trousers down to his ankles

and stepped out of them. Now, his eyes stayed on the cold floor while his

hands seemed to be hiding the crotch of his white jockey shorts. "Francis!"

Her voice was deadly warning. He slid the shorts to his ankles and stepped out

of them. Now he covered his nakedness with his hands, not daring to look at

either of them.



      Joyce shook Ann's hand and whispered in her ear. "Lady, you were right

all this time, weren't you?" Ann smiled at her and kissed her on the cheek.

They both studied this nude honky youth cringing before them. Frank had not

noticed the bag in Joyce's hands when the two women had arrived. Ann directed

him to the last stall, the one near the window. The one with no toilet in it.

After he entered, she told him to turn around and face the stall door, which

he did. She liked his ass as he walked into the stall.



      Ann reached into the bag and pulled out a pair of pink lace panties. She

handed them to Francis. "Put these on. A proper slave must be properly dressed

in his pretty panties." Francis looked at the floor as he pulled the lacy

panties up his legs and into place.



      "Now, Francis, have you ever eaten a pussy?" His eyes bulged in his

head. He could not believe that this was really happening to him. Afternoon -

most of the world at work or at lunch, and here he was, dressed only in lacy

girl's panties in this deserted bathroom with two extremely dominant black

women. And now one was going to tell him to do something he had read about,

but never even came close to doing.



      "Now, you get down on your knees, right here in front of me." He did.

His knees were between the rdmaining floor pipes from the removed toilet. He

stared straight ahead at her waist. He saw her dress being raised, then her

pale pink panties being slowly pushed down over the lush full hips. Then he

saw her pussy, close up, inches from his eyes. He saw her long legs spread as

she parted her high heeled feet. "Now, Francis dear, you are going to eat my

cunt. Just let your head follow my hand."



      The hand gathered his hair in once again, but not viciously like before.

His head was bent backwards, and then drawn in. The warm full thighs closed

over his cheeks and ears. The forest of kinky black hair was pressing against

his face. 



      "Okay, slave, start licking." He instantly obeyed the command high above

him. As his tongue worked feverishly to please her, the strong thighs

tightened, painfully so, and unnecessarily so. Then he felt something next to

him. It must be the other girl, he thought, but why was she squeezing into the

stall too? He kept working on the slick lips of Ann's cunt. His neck hurt from

the angle she had forced it into.



      Something was happening to his wrist. A rope was being tied to it. He

started to move, but the legs clamped even tighter, and he could hardly

breathe. Then another rope was tied to his other wrist. Suddenly, Ann backed

away, and Joyce, too, stood up and left the stall. Francis stared at them.

Then he realized that his hands were held to his sides, right at the floor. He

looked down to see ropes going from his wrists to the old pipes in the floor.



      Now he was terrified. "Please, lady.... I mean, Mistress Ann, why are

you doing this to me? I tried to be like you told me to be, and I will do

anything you say, but these ropes are scary." Ann leaned over and lifted his

chin up so his eyes met hers. "Do you have any idea why you are tied up in

this particular position in this particular place? The deserted bathroom with

the missing toilet?" She looked right into his eyes. "You're a toilet now,

Francis, our toilet. Me and Joyce are going to use you instead of these cold

seats in these other stalls. You don't understand, do you? Joyce, get behind

him. Now, you just watch, Francis, okay?"



      He had no idea what she was talking about. He felt Joyce working her

long body behind him, and then Ann took the hem of her dress and raised it to

her waist. Her panties slid down her hips seductively. But her black forest

disappeared from view as she turned her back to him, presenting a voluptuous

pair of shapely ass cheeks. Then Joyce grabbed his hair, and his head was

tilted back until he was staring at the ceiling. Now the shapely ass began to

settle downward toward his helpless face.



      As the darkness closed in as Ann's ass cheeks enveloped his face, he

heard her voice. "If you want to get out of here, Francis, then I'd advise you

to open your mouth real wide and take everything that I give you. And swallow

it." His mouth opened like a robot. He did not understand even yet what was

happening. The hand pulling his hair was brutal. The soft fleshy cheeks

settled on his face, getting heavier and heavier as she sat on his face.



      Then Ann farted, a long slow, juice-producing fart, and both women

laughed very vulgarly as the thick ass slime settled into his mouth. Her ass

was pressed so tightly to his mouth that he did not even smell it. Ann shifted

her ass back, pressing her thick moist pussy against his lips. Then the flood

came, a torrent of hot golden piss. It filled his mouth, and before he could

swallow, it was running down his chin and dribbling on his chest. He swallowed

repeatedly. Ann pissed in his mouth for what seemed like hours. She must have

been holding it all day. Then Ann shifted her ass back again, and something

soft and warm touched his lips. It was like a spoiled banana and very slippery

and moist. It slid into the cavity of his mouth, and grew. Oh god, it was a

turd. He tried to yell out, but the probing softness slid to the back of his

throat and he had to swallow. Ann's long, slippery turd slid continuously down

his throat until her ass closed around the end of it. Francis felt the tapered

end slide down his throat and into his stomach.



      "Very good, Francis, but you're not done yet. Lick my asshole clean.

After all, you're my toilet paper now too, ain't you? Hey, Joyce, have you got

dessert for our hungry little toilet?"



      After Francis licked her asshole and pussy shining clean, Ann was up and

dressed in seconds. Then she was behind him and his head was tilted back again

as Joyce's shapely black ass spread over his wide-open mouth. As Joyce pushed

long hot turds from her ass, she also had repeated orgasms. She was moaning

loudly and Ann was laughing at her aroused state. "Hey Joyce, you don't act

like that when you're in bed with me!" Now they both laughed as Francis

struggled to swallow the thick wet turds sliding out of Joyce's pink asshole.

He had to swallow so fast he felt sick, but each time the urge was suppressed

by a fat slimy turd sliding down his throat.



      After Joyce finished, both girls fixed their makeup in the mirror over

the basins and straightened out their clothes. Francis just knelt there

waiting to be untied. His greatest shock was yet to come.



      "Hey, Joyce, do you want to tell our slave what we're going to do with

him?" Joyce was delighted. "You aren't going anywhere, Francis baby. This is

your new home. You're our toilet now." Then they left, and Francis knelt there

in his pink lace panties, tugging at the ropes and getting nowhere. It got

dark. No sounds could be heard. The bathroom got cold. He cried, he yelled,

and soon he slept from sheer exhaustion. He was awakened by Joyce, who was

coming in to work.



      "Open up, baby cakes, Mommy has to piss." He felt the hot golden spray

blast from her cunt against the back of his throat. "Swallow it all, pig, or

I'll personally break your balls." He drank every drop of Joyce's hot piss and

licked her pussy clean. At lunchtime, Ann came in and forced two huge, shining

wet turds into his mouth. As he licked her empty asshole clean, she noticed

tears on his cheeks.



      "Hey, Francis, why the tears? You're very lucky, you know that? Joyce

and me are going to keep you here until the magazine closes, and then we're

taking you to live with us. You're going to be our maid and our toilet. We

bought a big old house, and we're going to fix up a special room just for you.

You'll have lots of nice lacy panties and bras to wear under your maid's

uniform. And high heels, too. So you shouldn't be crying. By the way, I got a

key to the main doors, and I'll be back later tonight with a dress for you,

and a black guy. I'm not into guys, but I owe a favor, and this guy loves

fucking virgins up the ass, so you're it, Francis."



      Francis was crying as night settled in the window. The cold tile was

rough on his knees. How long would this go on? Then he heard voices, and Ann

appeared with a huge black guy in African robes. Ann held a bag containing

lacy lingerie and had a short black maid's uniform over her arm. The black man

opened his trousers to reveal a cock at least fourteen inches long. Tears

streamed down Francis' face.



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