Tonight he is hungry
 
Tonight he will not sleep until that hunger is sated
 
A burning need to take
 
Devour
 
Smell fear
 
Hear her screams
 
The way she moans 
 
Begging for him to stop, or not stop
 
To mark her body
 
Invade her
 
And take what rightfully belongs to him and use it as he desires.

 

The Predator is hunting his prey.
 

 

 
Its been a long day and its not quite over yet.  Work, board meetings, clients, ensuring people do what they are paid to do, flight delays due to weather, paperwork, signatures, flow charts, projections, spreadsheets and conference calls.  Its 1am and he has to get up at 6am and do it all again. 
 
He knows sleep wont come until this ravenous hunger is fed.
 
He listens to the music playing on the radio as he drives from the Dallas airport towards his home.  He has one stop to make before he lays his head on his pillow.
 
He pulls into the drive of an apartment complex not 6 blocks from his own home.  All the lights are out.  He puts the key in the door.  He knows the layout of  apartment and moves quietly to the king size bed in the small loft apartment.  Light from the street gives him enough vision for his purpose.
 
A woman is sleeping soundly.  He can see the rise and fall of her breast as she breathes.  He watches a moment and enjoys the reality of what he has created.  This woman is his property.  In the same way he owns his car.  He directs her and she obeys him.  Period.  No question.  No back chat.  No attitude.  Just pure obedience as he requires.  She worships him and she desires more than life itself to see his smile and know she put it there on his face.  This sleeping woman is a vessel for his dark desires to come to fruition.  A woman who gratefully accepts his touch and relish that it came from his hand. Whether its a kiss or a caress or a sharp backhand which knocked her to the floor and leaves her lip swollen and bloody.  She will always thank him and be in deep gratitude for his attention.  She will crawl to him and beg him for more.  
      
It was 9pm.  She put the key in the lock of the small loft apartment in Dallas.  She was home.  She closed the door to the world behind her and smiled.  She was where she was meant to be in life.  She put the groceries away and made a quick bite to eat.  She quickly scanned email to see if he had sent her anything today.  Nothing.  Still, it was ok, she knew she would hear from him when he desired her.  She poured a glass of red wine and ran a hot bath to soak in.  She went through the apartment and straightened anything out of place.  The loft was furnished with all she needed to live a simple life.  She had her work station desk and laptop which was her lifeline to him and enabled her to work from home and bring in some income.  She had a large king size bed which was her one luxurious indulgence.  It was on this bed that the man who had become her king would lie to be pleasured by her or where he would throw her to be used by him and where he would place her to heal after he had used her.  She was grateful for the luxury of this one indulgence. 
 
This loft represented the 4 walls that enclosed her in his world.  A place he allowed her to exist in.  It was more than a home.  It was an extension of him.  His world.  His domain.  His rules she lived by.   The place where he would come to her and for her when he desired.  Outside of that time she worked for herself, did assignments and errands to free up some of his time as requested for and enjoyed the company of her friends.  He allowed her a full life to enjoy and she was grateful to him. 
 
The primary happiness came from belonging to and being of use to him.  The way he smiled at her.  Looked at her when she served him.  That she was a vessel for him that facilitated the darkest desires lurking in his mind.  With her, he could be who he really was as a man, deep inside where polite society would frown and judge.    A place now unleashed, he knew he could no live without.          
 
That he owned her, that she was not free, she was in essence truly free.
 
She turned out the lights and climbed into the hot bath and sipped her wine by candlelight.  Before the hour was out she would be in bed sleeping soundly, content and happy in her world.
  
A multi strand soft leather whip with a carved wooden handle hung on one of the 4 posters of the king size bed.  This served as a visual reminder.  She was a white whore living under the whip of a black dominant man.  Subject to his sadistic pleasure, to his discipline and his will.  
 

His gaze fixed on the sleeping woman.  With her, he had his ultimate freedom and he relished moments in time he would exercise them.
 
His hunger rumbled deep within the pit of his stomach.
 
He released the leather belt from his pants and curled it in his hand.  He smiled.

It was feeding time.
 
He was going to make this quick.  His hunger simply needed to be sated.  No small talk, no waiting, no foreplay.  He wanted his white whore splayed out on a platter of her obedience, ripe for his taking.  And he would take her absolutely.
 
He ripped the covers from her body and grabbed a handful of her hair.  With his sheer force and her own disorientated half asleep compliance he dragged her body from the bed to her knees on the floor.  He pushed her head to the wooden floor and put his foot on the nape of her neck, holding her there.  Her full rounded white ass high in the air.   A position he desired her in and one she was at her most vulnerable before him.  A position of obedience, worship and use by a black dominant man for his white whore.
  
It only took her a few seconds to go from sleeping soundly, lost in a dream, to being disorientated by the sudden movements to being fully aware and compliant.  Her owner was hungry and he was going to feed.  Head down at his feet, back arched low, ass and hips raised high and open, knees wide apart.  She offered her body to him to satisfy his desires.   She too was truly fed at a deep intrinsic level.  He satisfied within, by his use, needs that were untapped and unexplored prior to meeting him.  Desires she knew about at the tip of the iceberg.  He was now conquering the iceberg in totality.
 

He lashed the belt at her ass.  Over and over.  She yelped and wiggled but she did not try to escape his touch.  She craved this as much as he craved to inflict it on her.  Her personal tolerance was her biggest challenge.  He delighted in hurting her.  He knew she craved to be hurt.  The Yin and Yang of their shared desires.
  
Sometimes he demanded she not move, not break position, not whimper.  Other times he needed to hear her screams and feed on her struggles.   Sometimes he would bind her so tightly she could not break position.  Other times he relished binding her by her own will and surrender and not move because it pleased him for her to internalize the pain he inflicted.  
 
Quite often there would be no words.  Simply his presence, his force and her body responding. 
 
A primal unspoken language between them. 
 
Sometimes he would be done with her and walk away without a word and she wouldn't hear from him for days.  She was left alone to heal and process.  Other times he would hold her tenderly, tracing his fingers over her wounds, relishing in what he had inflicted and the woman he enjoyed.  He would bathe her and put her to bed to recover and sleep.
 
No matter how he treated her she felt safe in the knowledge she belonged to him and he cared for her.
 
She sensed tonight would be fast, deliberate and then she would be left alone.
 

As he lashed the belt across her ass and hips, her whimpers and cries, begging him became more urgent.  He could sense she was close to her limit.  He put his boot on her ass and pushed her over. 
 
She rolled over onto her back on the cold hardwood floor.  Almost soothing her firey beaten flesh.  Instinctively her thighs spread wide apart.  He again put his foot over her throat and raised the leather belt.  She watched him intently trying to predict his next move.  She eyed the belt, his arm raised and without thought she clamped her thighs together in fear and covered her breasts with her hands. 
 
He paused, almost amused by this display.  The leather belt poised.  He looked her in the eye.  That is all that was required.  One look.  She knew.  She would fix it.  He could see her brain ticking over, processing.  Giving her clarity.  Slowly she parted her thighs, til her knees dropped apart and touched the floor, the soles of her feet touching each other.  Slowly her hands left the cover of her breasts and she stretched them out to her sides.  She knew she acted without thought, on instinct, however it should not be her instinct to protect herself from the man who owns her.  She knew he would make this point and drive it home to her.  She pushed the soles of her feet together to brace her body.  Her hands clawing at the floor trying to reach for something to hold onto before balling tightly into a fist.  Her body taut in anticipation.  She looked away, screwing her eyes tightly, terrified and waiting for the stinging blow.  
 
Again he simply paused, a sadistic smile played across his lips.  He knew she knew better than even this display and so he waited for her to catch up.
 
She knew also.
 
He was waiting for her to willingly offer her body to him to whip and mark.  To not only offer but to actively facilitate her own surrender to his will. 
 
Her body relaxed.  Her thighs spread wide apart.  Her feet flat on the wooden floor.  Her hands reached down to her sex and her fingers splayed apart her lips for him.  She was wet.  She was aroused and in need.  She thrust her ass up, opening and offering her sex to him to whip.   Her hands reached up and held her breasts together and arched her back offering herself to him.  She moaned.  Her eyes wide open.  Deliberately looking at him.  She knew he liked for her to see the whip coming.  To see the anticipation on her face in the seconds before the cut of the belt landed.  He relished that look.  Then the way her face contorted in pain, madly trying to process it.  The battle of her will to not scream or the sheer exhilaration when she could freely express her pain and surrender to him.  He fed heartily on it all.
  
"Please... Please Sir..." She begged.  Her body thrusting upwards to him in need.  Her hips rocking back and forth almost humping the night air.  Her sex wide open to him.  Her nipples hard.  Her eyes locked on his.  
 

A sight to behold.  This is a woman he truly possessed.  A white whore who indeed knew her place and craved to be in it.  
 

He attached clover clamps to her nipples and reached the chain to place between her teeth.  An interesting challenge to see how long it remained there.  Any tension caused by her struggles would tighten the clamps and self inflict her own measure of pain.    
  
He bought the belt down hard and directly onto the center of her parted upturned sex.  The pain caused her to cry out in a low guttural animalistic cry of genuine hurt.  A pain that would not leave her sex for days to come.  He could see the struggle she had not to cover her flesh to him.  A genuine war of wills going on inside her head.  He fed deeply from her reactions, her cries.  He relished the marks he put on the property he owned.  He raised the belt and slashed it across her sex again and again.  Her white skin now a deep hue of pink.  Soon it would turn a nice bluish purple and quite possibly deep purple to black in the coming days. 
 
She was panting, breathless, and writhing almost lost in a trance under the blows.  He could see she was at the point where she could not take any more.  He reached down to her sex lips with his fingers and prised the flesh apart protecting her clit.  He could feel the heat radiating from her sex, feel the wetness of her desire for him.  He pressed his lips around her clit and softly suckled.  She was almost driven insane by the sensations he created with his tongue circling slowly and softly around on her clit.  Just as her body began contorting and convulsing in her orgasm he took the tongue end of his leather belt and spanked her directly on her exposed clit over and over.  She bucked wildly and groaned heavily through the orgasm wracking her body.  He thrust his fingers deep up into her sex and felt her cunt contract around him.  She ground her body down hard onto his hand trying to force his hand deeper within her. 
 
He pulled her up by her hair to kneel facing him.  The clamps attached to her nipples, the chain dangling down between them.  She felt disappointed with herself for having dropped it from her teeth.  Instinctively she rested her ass back on her heels, placed the chain again between her teeth and arched herself backwards, resting back on her hands.  Essentially offering her breasts to him if he chose to discipline her for her lack of self control and to serve as a reminder to do better next time.  He took the leather belt again and using the tongue end lashed the underside of her breasts over and over.  Lovely red weals were beginning to raise on the sensitive soft white skin.  Her head thrashing around causing painful tension on her already stretched and clamped nipples. 
 
He took her hands and positioned them upturned and outstretched in front of her.  He bought the belt down hard onto her palms, six times each hand.  This would serve as a firm reminder to her to never attempt to use her hands to shield his use of her body.   He removed the clamps and lashed her breasts two more times directly on her tender nipples.  
 
He kicked her knees together and roughly pushed her back over onto her belly and knees.  Roughly grabbing her hips he pushed his sex deep into her ass.  He felt her involuntarily open up to him as he entered and clench closed around him as he began to withdraw.  It was almost as if her body itself knew its place with him.  Using her hips as leverage to pull her ass back onto him before thrusting his hips deeper into her again.  One final deep thrust and he groaned as his seed spewed forth deep into the depths of her body. 
 
He rose and grabbed her by a handful of hair and led her on her hands and knees into the bathroom.  Over to the tub.  She climbed in and knelt facing him.  Still breathless and overwhelmed.  He looked at her body.  The redness.  The weals swelling nicely.  The different shades of flush pink to bluish purple.  Her sex bruised and open.  Without a word spoken, he took her hand and placed it between her own legs over her sex.  She begin to rub herself.  Her palm stinging, her sex heated and sore.  Her clit in agony.  She rubbed and stroked at her clit and over her labia like a bitch on heat desperately trying to regain his favor again.  Through the pain she could feel a hint of pleasure which she drew out further and further.  She parted her sex with her fingers and exposed her sore clit and fed the itch deep inside with slow circular motions of her fingertips.  Stroking it hard and harder she begin to slap at it with her finger tips.  Simulating when he beat her sex with his belt.  
 

He stood before her fascinated by her display.  He was still hungry for the final taking.  The final marking of this bitch, this white whore that he owned.   His black cock in hand, she prised her sex apart, exposing her clit to him, just as a jet of yellow liquid streamed over her red and swollen gaping sex.  The liquid burning at her swollen clit.  She orgasmed deeply and moaned as he marked her his property and whore.  His fluid marked her up her belly, over both her red and welted breasts.  
  
He turned on the shower over the tub and stood under the cleansing and refreshing stream of water.  He placed his hands on the tile and enjoyed the water washing over his body.    He felt the water over his face and head and enjoyed its warmth.
 

She was still on her knees already bathed in his fluid.  Feeling the warmth of the residual water cascade off him over her body.  She almost felt sad that his fluid would be washed off her body.
 
She absolutely relished and savored this place he kept her in.  This is where she was born to be.  At the feet of a black dominant man.  A vessel for his darkest desires.  She was his, his property and his slave.  She thrived on his use and remained content in the days after because she wore his marks as a reminder of her place in life and who she was to this man she adored.
 
She instinctively began to worship him.  Caressing his legs and thighs, nuzzling her face to him and kissing him.  She took her cues from his reactions.  Painfully aware it was not good to assume or initiate without an invitation.  She enjoyed some freedom and latitude but she was very careful not to step outside of that.  She watched his body enjoying the hot shower spray and his legs parted and hips moved back closer to her face.  She nuzzled her cheek to his ass cheek and kissed softly over and over.  His hips moved back to meet her lips.  Her tongue seeking, licking, tiny circles, searching out the place on his body that would give him ultimate pleasure.  His body parted and she knew what to do.  Her tongue licking at his ass, gently poking, softly kissing this black flesh.  Her own desire to please him driving her, her tongue more rigid, seeking out that special place.  She gently holds apart his ass cheeks in an effort to get closer to him.  Licking the full length of the flesh that lay between, seeking out the tiny hole and forcing her tongue deep within.  His hips pushing back against her face.  Her tongue driving in and out of his ass in deep slow and long strokes.  Her finger tips gently caressing his balls and her tongue licking the underside of them before driving deeply back up into his ass.  Tongue fucking him slowly and deeply.  She could feel his ass tighten around her tongue and his body convulsed slightly.  Her hands reached around and cupped as an offering vessel for his seed.  Her face at his cheeks, her tongue driven as deep as she could get it up his ass, slowly in and out as his body came and deposited his seed into her cupped hands. 
 
He turned around to face the white whore, still on her knees.  She was smiling and content.  She held his seed in her cupped hands as if it were fragile crystal, terrified it would break.  His precious seed would not be wasted by being washed down the drain.
 
She scooped a little and rubbed it over her swollen clit, over her bruised cunt  and marked breasts before licking her fingers clean of any residual.  His desire mixed with hers.  She tasted deeply.  She bent forward and kissed his feet with gratitude. 
 
No words were spoken.  No words were needed. 
He fed well tonight and in doing so, fed her. 
 
He stepped out of the shower and left the loft apartment and returned to his home and life.  He slept sated and sound.
 
She rose and stood under the warm water before drying off and once again returning to her bed to sleep and heal. 
 
On her pillow, looped once, his leather belt.  A folded piece of paper which simply read...
 
"To remind you"