My Story - Chapter 1
By Muscle Fan



I'll start where my life changed. I'm thirty years old and the year is 1862.
Our nation has been at war for well over a year and I'm a slave at the
Harrington Plantation outside of Charleston, South Carolina.

Life was not easy for black female slaves in those days. Master Harrington
said that I was beautiful and often raped me as did the bastard Mister Harkey,
the overseer. But where my real story begins is a visit to a priestess who
lived in the woods outside of Charleston. Madam Delphi was old, hunch backed,
and nearly blind from what I could tell.

I had followed the directions given to me by Reginald, one of my fellow slaves
and after several wrong turns, found her cabin in the moonlight deep in the
woods. I told Madam Delphi of Master Harrington and Mr. Harkey's rapes and
that I wanted them to stop and to give me strength to run away and head north.
All of my family had been killed and I had no one on the Harrington Plantation
to call family.

Madam Delphi listened intently and then with some herbs and other ingredients
and speaking in Creole, cast a spell. "You will find strength, my child,
unknown strength. Go and do not return," she said.

I returned to the plantation and fell fast asleep until the morning hours.
When I woke, I prepared for the morning chores. I was in the barn, mucking the
stalls when Mr. Harkey came in. I could tell by the look in his eye that he
wanted sex. Wordlessly, he ran the whip he carried along my jaw, backing me
into a corner. "Suck me," he said and pushed me to my knees. I unbuckled his
belt and slid his underwear down around his ankles exposing his pathetic cock.
I took the shriveled member between my thumb and index finger and slowly began
to stroke him. He was hard in an instant and moaning like an animal.

As I stroked him I noticed my muscles. 'Was I seeing correctly?' I thought. My
bicep bulged. It was larger than Reginald's and he worked in the fields. As I
stroked the overseer, my bicep grew. I smiled to myself and wrapped my hand
around his puny shaft. My palm engulfed his small cock. "Ugh," he said,
"careful, bitch," and raised the whip in his hand. That's when I squeezed my
fist and he let out a howl. The horse in the next stall whinnied and began to
stomp the boards on the floor.

I loosened my grip and then tightened it once more this time closing around
not only his cock but also his scrotum as well. Slowly I squeezed and stood
up. It was only when I was fully standing that I noticed Mr. Harkey's eyes
bulging. I laughed as I increased my grip. His mouth worked but no sound came
out. That's when I felt something warm and sticky on my fingers. With a final
squeeze, I let go of the man and he fell to the stall floor.

Looking at my hand I saw the blood and then looked down to see Mr. Harkey on
the floor of the stall, blood flowing from his testicles and penis, or I
should say, the place where his penis and testicles should have been. His
testicles and penis lay on the straw, feet from his body. I wiped my hand on
his shirt and closed the stall door as I left the barn.

I ran and as Madam Delphi said, never went back. I headed north to where I had
heard blacks could be free. That was 1862 and I was thirty years old. Today, I
still am thirty years old. All part of Madam Delphi's spell.

Today I stand six-feet tall and weighing in excess of two hundred twenty
pounds. That's not to say I'm fat, quite the contrary, I'm ripped,
unbelievably strong and head of my own corporation. In 2018 you would say that
I'm a self-made woman and you wouldn't be wrong, but besides being a CEO, I'm
also a dominatrix, a quite successful dominatrix. I do have to watch my
strength, however, as I don't want to attract undue attention to myself.

It's mid-May in New York City and I'm standing on the balcony of my penthouse
in lower Manhattan. The night it warm for May and I'm naked. I prefer to be
naked because I enjoy running my hands over my chiseled abdominals and
quadriceps. Veins crisscross my thighs, biceps and forearms. Even clothed I
draw stares from people on the street, some even so brash as to ask if I'm a
bodybuilder or to feel my muscles. Am I put off or angry? No. I've honed my
body into what every man and woman desires.

While I watch the lights and listen to the sounds of the city beneath me, I
casually finger my clitoris. I run my index finger along it's meaty shaft and
feel the stirring of an erection. Fully erect my clit is four-inches, enough
to satisfy both men and women. To satisfy me, however, I need a man who is
endowed with at least a ten-inch cock.

"Paul," I say softly to the man standing in the shadows, "Come and service
your mistress." Wordlessly, Paul steps from the shadows and pads to me. Like
me, he is naked and nearly as tall as I, his body firm. He kneels before me
and takes my clit between his eager lips, his hands holding my rock hard
buttocks. Expertly he sucks and pulls on my clit until I'm erect. I place a
hand on the back of his head and hold him against my pubis.

I hear a muffled cry, or maybe I sense it, but it interrupts my concentration,
my pleasure. I look directly down over the balcony railing searching for the
cause of the interruption. Paul, unaware of the cry, continues to suck my 'she
cock' until I push him away. He looks up at me a dejected look on his face. I
move to the end of the balcony and look into the alleyway that runs between my
building and the one next to it. There, near the dumpster, a man is trying to
rape a woman. He has one hand over her mouth and is holding a knife to her
throat.

"Get on your knees, bitch and unzip my pants," he snarls, "I want to feel
those lips wrapped around my cock." I can't see the woman's face from here,
but it brings back memories of Mr. Harkey over 150 years ago. Not bothering to
dress I stride to my private elevator and push the ground floor button. Within
seconds I exit to the alley near the man and woman.

"Drop the knife," I say as I step through the door behind the man. Startled,
he wheels around, knife outstretched. "Please, help me," the woman says
sobbing. "Who are you?" he says, "Where did you come from?" "None of that
matters, bitch, drop the knife," I tell him again and take a step towards him.
The light from a security light now illuminates me. He smiles and his breath
catches as he looks at me from head to foot. I place a hand on each hip giving
him time to take in my muscles and distract him from his victim.

"Take off, sweetie," I tell the girl, "I'll take care of this son of a bitch."
Her eyes are shifting between the man between us and me. She takes a step back
but doesn't run. She steps behind the trash container and looks over the top
of it. 'Enjoy the show, honey,' I think to myself as I take another step
towards the man.

He shifts the knife to his right hand and pulls the zipper of his jeans down
with his left exposing himself. I glance down and laugh out loud. "What am I
suppose to do with that, asshole?" I mock, "I've seen little boys with bigger
cocks than yours." Infuriated, he lunges at me. I step to one side and hit his
forearm. My blow lands midway between the wrist and elbow shattering his
radial bone. He lets out a scream of pain and drops the knife but remains
standing.

I quickly step behind him and wrap my twenty inch arms around his chest. He
tries to free himself, but his struggle is futile. I squeeze until I feel a
couple of ribs crack. His breathing becomes labored as I release him and he
falls to the pavement.

He looks up at me resting on his uninjured arm and reaches towards me with his
right hand, the forearm disjointed where I broke it. "Please," he wheezes,
"I'm done. No more." I look at the woman behind the dumpster and then back to
the man on the ground. "You started this, baby," I say, "You prey on women and
now you must pay the price."

I grab his upraised arm at the wrist and twist it. Again he screams as his
palm is now facing in the opposite direction. When I release his wrist, his
forearm dangles from the upper arm before it goes limp. He rolls on his back
trying to hold his right arm with his left.

Reaching down I take his flaccid penis between my thumb and forefinger and
squeeze. It's like rubber. "Ahh," he moans. I pull up and his cock stretches;
two, maybe three inches. He tries to arch his back, raising his hips to find
some comfort. "How long can I stretch this little thing?" I ask. He doesn't
reply as I raise a foot and press down on his pelvis just above his pubis.

Like Mr. Harkey from years ago, his cock separates from his abdomen. Muscle,
tissue and sinew tear loose. The man passes out and blood seeps from the
wound. I hold what's left of his penis up and the woman who is watching, her
eyes go wide before she turns away. I smile and walk to the dumpster she's
hiding behind. I lift the lid and drop the man's penis into the container. "He
won't be needing this any more, honey," I tell her and chuckle.

She moves her lips but nothing comes out. I take a step and stand directly in
front of her. She's nearly a foot shorter than me, not much over five feet
tall; a white girl, with blue eyes and auburn hair. "What did you say?" I ask,
placing my hand on the back of her head. "Th-thank you," she says softly and
smiles weakly. Our faces are inches apart and I pull her to me. She places a
hand on each of my breasts, her thumbs resting on my nipples as I kiss her
full on the lips. I force my tongue into her mouth and our tongues touch.

When I break the kiss, she looks down. She could feel my erect clit pressed
against her stomach. Looking back into my eyes I smile and say, "Yes, my clit
is big," and I laugh lightly, "bigger than that bastard's cock," and I tilt my
head towards the man lying on the pavement. She nods.

"Open the lid on the trash bin," I tell her turning my attention once more to
the dead man lying in the alley. I pick him up by his belt and front of his
shirt and throw him into the container along with his knife. "Close it and
come with me," I tell her. She lets the lid fall into place and follows me
back to my private entrance where I punch in the code on the recessed keypad.

In the elevator on the way back to my penthouse, I rip the clothes from the
petite woman. She doesn't protest nor resist. By the time the doors open, I
hold her by the small of the back while thrusting my clit into her vagina. I
step out of the elevator with the girls legs encircling my hips, her moaning
reaching a crescendo as she climaxes. I smile as I release her and she stands
on wobbly legs.

"Paul, this is, ahh," and I look at the woman. "Megan," she says softly
looking at Paul who has been taking in her and I having sex, standing against
the bookshelves. She covers her breasts and pubis with her arms and hands. Her
eyes widen as she takes in Paul's muscular body and large penis. I smile at
how most women are embarrassed by their own bodies and think to myself, 'That
will change soon'. "Draw Megan a bath and attend to her, I'll be along after I
shower," I tell him and pad off towards my bedroom. "This way, Megan," Paul
says to the young woman, and sets off towards the guest bedroom.

Paul adjusts the water filling the tub and straightens up turning to Megan.
"I'm Paul," he says extending his hand. Megan, removes her arm covering her
breasts and takes Paul's hand, "Megan," she says, her eyes looking at his
manhood. When she glances back at his face he smiles and says, "Would you like
me to service you or vice versa?" She blushes and he continues, "Mistress
Monica, wants me to attend to your needs."

Before she can reply, Paul steps towards her and kisses her. She doesn't
resist. He pulls her body against his and she feels his cock become erect. He
pulls away but takes her by her wrist and leads her to the bed. She lies on
the bed staring up at the largest cock she has ever seen. Paul kneels between
her legs and lowers his pelvis until the head of his penis is poised at her
labia. He slowly pushes forward, entering her. Megan's breath catches and she
begins to pant. Paul continues but stops and withdraws slightly before
thrusting again. Their pace quickens and Megan moans as she takes half of his
shaft and then climaxes.

Paul is aware that I'm watching and with a wave of my hand steps away from the
bed. As Megan, her body bathed in sweat, lies on her back, her breathing
becomes even. Finally, slowly, she raises herself on her elbows and looks at
Paul. "It looks like Paul has taken good care of you," I say. Megan blinks and
turns her attention to me standing at the side of the bed. Still naked, Megan
can't help but notice my large veins that crisscross my arms and thighs as
well as my deeply defined abdominals.

"Don't be afraid, baby," I tell her, "you'll be all right. You can stay or go
as you want, but if you stay you will be mine; do as I say, do what I want,
when I want it. Understand?" She nods and I smile. She looks back at Paul as
do I. "Yes, Paul will teach you about sexual control and how to take all of
his large, thick, cock. But only if I permit it, isn't that right, Paul?"
"Yes, mistress," he says.

Megan looks back at me no longer covering her pubis or breasts. "But what of
my job, my apartment, my life?" she asks. I smile at her and repeat, "As I
said, you will be mine, my slave, if you will, although I never have liked
that term. You will be my submissive."

Megan hesitated, but no more than a minute and finally nodded. "Good," I said,
and then to Paul, "continue with your 'lesson', baby, Megan appears to be a
willing pupil."

Paul once again entered Megan as I left the bedroom.

I'm sitting in my office and think about Megan. It's been a year since that
night in the alley and she has grown and become a wonderful submissive. She
serves me well and now is able to take not just Paul's cock but the largest
dildo I have in my 'toy chest'. Perhaps it's time to see how she does with one
of my clients.

Megan pads into my office with a cup of tea on a silver platter. I can't help
but notice the physical changes that have taken place. She is comfortable with
her nakedness. Her muscle tone has improved and there is definition to her
calves, legs, arms and abdominals.

She sets the tray on the edge of my desk and smiles. "Your tea, mistress," she
says. I smile up at her and hold out my hand. She places hers in mine and I
pull her gently towards me. "It's time now for you to learn control. Not just
prolonging orgasm, you've mastered that," I tell her, "but control over your
own 'submissive,' would you like that?" "Oh, yes, mistress," she says,
beaming. I smile back at her and tell her, "That will be all."

'She has potential,' I think to myself as I watch her tight ass disappear
through the doorway.

If you have enjoyed my story, please let me know at covert.1@hotmail.com

Thank you,

Muscle Fan