Message-ID: <58816asstr$1239401402@assm.asstr.org>
From: Glitterslut Princess <pornfiction@yahoo.com>
Subject: {ASSM} Princess and her Black Daddy
Lines: 251
Date: Fri, 10 Apr 2009 18:10:02 -0400
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I'd love to hear comments and such. Email me at pornfiction@yahoo.com;
I'd also like to know a little bit about who enjoys or doesn't enjoy my
stories. So if you want (you don't have to) I'd like you to tell me a
little about yourself. Even just your age, where you're from, etc. 


Princess and her Black Daddy

Chapter One


Returning home for the first time after the plague, there was this
automatic response of safety and relief. It felt like she had come home
from any long day at school. It was only elementary school, but that
stress she felt during that period of time; shy and awkward, nervous,
unsure; wanting to just go home a veg out for a bit; that'd disappear
the moment she saw her house. She didn't actually need time to relax,
she just needed to feel safe. But she had a ritual; she'd grab a Coke
and a Swiss Miss, tune to channel 4 and maybe call a friend or two, then
sit on the couch for 45 minutes to an hour. Batteries recharged, the
ritual would end. 

It wasn't a whole year before this house would become a memory, but it
was imprinted in her. I mean, it'd been what? Seven or Eight years?
Nothing about this house was the same as it had been before. For
instance her parents. 

Now it was just "Daddy" - he insisted on being called that - sitting on
that old couch, beer in hand and a few more on the floor. The house
reeked of pot. That sense of security... well it was just a vestige.
This is brutal realism. But there was nonetheless a pause at the
realization of where she was. 

The curse words and beer can flew in one violent convulsion. As suddenly
as Daddy had been sitting he was standing and the alcohol made both of
them think he was much taller and stronger than he was. "Suck my cock,
Princess." 


I should take a time out for a moment. I wouldn't have believed it if I
hadn't seen it myself, but history can be wiped out in an a blink.
There's no way to tell if you'll ever be able to even read this, let
alone have any real historical context. During my re-education, they'd
pull these stories off the internet. They were like this weird catharsis
from sexually frustrated and racist white guys. They glorified the
nigger and his superior masculinity and all this other fucked up shit.
Our government parents told us this was evidence for the new society
that was falling into place, it legitimized it. It was taken as gospel,
as religious text. They called it history, but at this point most of it
had been destroyed. And they don't even teach that things hadn't always
been the way they are now anymore. There is no history anymore. We just
emerged suddenly in our natural order. 

But these niggers in these stories that early man had imagined, they
weren't anything like things really were. They always described niggers
as attractive and fit, younger men almost always. But it doesn't really
make sense to me why they thought that'd really be how things were.
Daddy was a bit heavy and nearly forty now, while Princess had just
turned thirteen. It doesn't make any sense that the niggers would
completely subjugate the white race, all three subspecies (Caucasians,
Scandinavians and Asians) and give a shit about what they looked like,
like that would ever be taken into account. 

And I don't know what the kind of people reading this will be.. It is
entirely possible that by the time you read this, history will be wiped
out again, only to start again. But that's how things worked. 


Princess had Daddy's fat flaccid cock in her mouth. Princess could
vividly feel the pain just looking at the thing. It was of grotesquely
fat proportions, disgusting just aesthetically. And it tasted like piss.
It always tastes like piss. But she was lucky. 

As the thing became engorged, Princess enjoyed her jaw structure. It
looked like a snake swallowing a mouse, with it's jaw stretched to
absurd proportions, only the snake was entering the vermin, not the
other way around. Princess remembered when Dad - her real Dad, the white
one who was renamed Faghole - she remembered her struggling to suck
Daddy's dick, but just couldn't and so Daddy shattered her jaw in the
theory that if Daddy fucked Faghole while she was healing, that make her
fuckable. But it didn't work out that way and one day Faghole shot
herself. Daddy kept home video it all, but the shattering of Faghole's
jaw was never played. 

Princess' reminiscing of the old days way stopped as she was quickly
brought back to reality by that painful slab of meat forced its way
balls deep into her mouth-cunt. Her bloodshot eyes pleaded with him
while her face turned beet-red. She fought it for as long as she could,
but she gagged and Daddy administered a "love shock" as they were
called. A brief convulsion later she also failed to open her mouth well
enough in advance, which earned her a punch. Not so hard to cause
serious damage of course. Princess rarely left the home with black eyes
or broken bones. Just hard enough to remind her of the rules so that she
would never forget them and hopefully encourage her to actually follow
them. Balls deep into her swelling throat again, but Princess woke up on
the floor, head pounding. It took a moment to realize, but when she did
she gathered that she'd failed to hold her breath long enough and with
Daddy's cock lodged in her throat, she fainted. 

Princess knew to get the punishment book. She knew by now the punishment
it prescribed for not knowing a punishment in the punishment book. The
punishment, it turned out, was nine hours wearing the pear. Apparently
the ancients had a similar device that they used for punishment from
which the modern device's namesake is taken. There are different designs
and correction levels, but the device I was to use was a small
pear-shaped device fitted into the ass-pussy and locked into place with
a harness. Vibrations, changes in size, electrical shocks, spinning soft
spikes and a telescopically thrusting extension on the end were
carefully designed to focus your main attention on the sensations in
your cunt. Additionally, chemicals slowly seeped into your anus which
serve a variety of purposes. Increasing sensitivity, maintaining anal
tightness, occasionally burning sensations and whatever sadistic
compounds the designers could think of. 

Inevitably Princess began crying as the device began, but that didn't
excuse her from her duties and she promptly began preparing for dinner.
After an hour the tears would stop, well technically they're dry sobs by
that point, and an indescribable sort of degraded exhaustion would set
in, before finally a level of acceptance would set in and then,
theoretically, cathartic submission. 

Daddy like filet mignon with a glass of red wine and a side of salmon if
he got hungry again. Depending on how much Daddy liked his meal,
Princess' meal would be decided. Daddy deemed the filet to be cooked
well, but the wine to be a moderately poor choice and the salmon
terribly cooked. Princess' meal would thus be mildly substandard,
consisting of two-thirds specially formulated tasteless slop and
one-third horse semen in a dog dish, with a glass or warm piss with
droplets of nutrition formula. The taste of semen had become ubiquitous
to Princess, and so was not so bad; in fact she began to worry that she
had begun to prefer it over tasteless slop given to her for special
holidays. But it was the glass of piss that she always dreaded. 

Obediently, however, Princess licks up her cum slop and piss, still
sobbing a little from the pear painfully stretching and contorting her
ass-cunt. Her make up was well fucked up, but the tears were beginning
to dry up and she finished her meal with minimal gagging. 

After the meal, Princess was locked in her cell; a fairly large room
with a Plexiglas wall, which opened into the family room. The interior
was pink. All pink. It's vital bitches maintain their femininity and
pink is the mark of feminine. Bitches are generally even of a pink
complexion, while black, the color and skin tone of real men, is the
masculine. 

That's not to say it wasn't nice. It even had a bathroom. A large canopy
bed with hello kitty bed sheets sat at the center with translucent pink
drapes. Stuffed animals sat on the bed and along the walls.. Princess
got to sleep on two large goose-down pillows with lace and two smaller,
decorative pillows. She got a large vanity where she could apply her
make-up; fully stocked with the cutest lipsticks, with mascara and
foundations. She had a walk-in bedroom. There was no pony, but the girls
of the old days, the one's who didn't get their plastic surgery in grade
school or after they were captured, this was their dream. And so of
course this was the bedroom bitches were given. 

It was time to change into my casual clothes. Back then, things were
different than they are now. The school uniforms were of the African
type - a one piece dress with a white collar and knee socks and pink in
color with pink heels. Now they're pink versions of the Japanese type
with platforms. And you had to wear a corset back then, too. It'd be two
years before they perfected forming surgery. 

Anyway, Daddy buys Princess clothes and she gets to pick most of them
out, though she does have to wear ballet heels since the government
psychologists say that it is important bitches have restricted movement.

Carefully teetering towards the vanity, Princess sat down and fixed up
her makeup. It wasn't terribly good, she had only been captured a few
months earlier having fled to the Ohio River Valley shortly after Mali
invaded, that first year in elementary school. Her surgery wasn't even
finished, having only gone through a little facial surgery and
hair-removal. She lived with a resistance front, trying to build up
society somewhat like they used to and trying to find a cure before the
Mali Empire conquered it all. But in the end, the rioting in cities, the
fertile land and the isolation against the warring Western and Eastern
powers, not to mention the promise of something that, at the very least,
looked like women and, as some of the niggers claim, were in fact women;
they just grew to powerful. Society just could not survive without women
and there would be no society until someone could offer them. 

Princess, after changing into her "casual clothes" - which resembled
more the outfit of a hooker in the old times than anything Princess
would really call casual - but after changing it'd be time for homework.
Princess couldn't remember what school had been like prior to the
plague, but it was certainly different. There wasn't that racial
superiority ideology, there couldn't have been. She had history homework
to read, which Princess hardly believed even happened. The niggers
learned math, but not the girls. She did have biology though, and it was
pretty accurate, she assumed, except for when they were talking about
the differences between the white races and niggers. There was art
class, too. That was second period and it was actually pretty fun; today
her assignment was to come up with a design for girl's toothpaste.
English class was next; she had some allegory about a slut submitting to
a superior nigger. Not too exciting. She always wondered what the men
got to read. They always assumed that white bitches weren't smart enough
to understand anything deep or intelligent so it was always childish
dribble about the role of bitches and why not to speak unless spoken to
and such. She had two hours of gym after that, then lunch. She had
make-up and femininity after that; she didn't have homework for that
today. Sex Ed after that, punishment book study, home economics for two
hours. 

When the niggers were attending extra-curricular activities. This was
actually when the threat of rape was greatest. The girls wore
hobble-bars around their ankles, which forced them to walk in short
little petite steps and any girl who had to use the bathroom was easy
prey in a world where the vast majority of men would never have sex
until they were old enough to afford a pro-slut unless you were a Mali
National or deemed a superior specimen (which generally meant unusually
dark skin and unusually large penis as well as good height, good grades
and in with someone in power). That overweight alcoholic at home who
owned Princess was of the latter category; having captured more whites
during the colonization period, being coal-black in color, a
pain-inflicting cock and the size of a basketball player, he made it
rich and was able to afford a bitch - Princess, whom he had met all
those years ago and the only one to escape. He still didn't know how. 

Anyway, though, that's not when the school day would end. The school
needed to be cleaned up and so toothbrushes were always handed out and
they stayed until the school was spotless. Today, Princess got home at
five-thirty, just in time to make dinner. An unusually long day, but it
was new in the school year and the niggers would make things hard for us
during the first week or two. This was the time of year when everyone
was on their best behavior so they wouldn't be selected for bathroom
duty. 

When she was done, she had nearly two hours left before bedtime before
she could watch from one of the three channels she got for girls.
Channel one was porn featuring some rather extreme scenes between
niggers and bitches. Two was news. Blegh! And channel three was some
rather psychotic ultra-cute show which was a blatant rip-off of Hello
Kitty, even keeping the same name. 

"Hey!" Daddy said, rattling on the Plexiglas wall. Princess was
frightened. "I've sold you to a speculator," he continued "get to bed
early ‘cause you're leaving at four o'clock." 


A speculator - I don't know where the name comes from - a speculator is
someone who bus young bitches and worked them for money. In porn, for
sex or doing just menial work at fast food or, back in those days
physical jobs still didn't pay well and girls were begrudgingly used
after they passed a certain age. But not a thirteen year old; muscles
were a masculine feature. Thin and shapely was what girls were supposed
to look like, so this was no real danger. 

The danger was - and they didn't know it - but the danger for them was
that this provided Princess the perfect opportunity to escape. She'd
done it before, and goddamnit, she'll do it again. 



-- 
Pursuant to the Berne Convention, this work is copyright with all rights
reserved by its author unless explicitly indicated.
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