♠

The Argument Goes On

Mason sat at the table in the wide white room on the second floor of the Cuckold Camp again. The stinging of his raw ass on the chair was something he’d gotten used to by now, and thankfully his wounds were healing. In a strange way, he supposed he was additionally thankful for being permitted the frilly little pink skirt Fiona dressed him in. He couldn’t quite decide if his new clothes were more or less humiliating than being fully naked at all times.

He and the other cucks were eating some spaghetti leftover from the night before that the dommes had made Matty cook. The sissy had reheated it and shared it with the rest of them for lunch. One missing ingredient was Finn; Mason had no idea where he went off to. Hopefully he wasn’t still in Abraham’s room sucking cock.

“Have any of you seen Finn today?” he asked the other three.

“Nope,” Brendan said from his right side slurping up a mouthful.

“He’s probably with Fiona,” Matty suggested from the head of the table, emphasizing her name.

“Right,” Mason replied.

“Or he’s sucking cock,” Chuck said with a light chuckle that jiggled his gut regardless before taking a swig off his water.

Mason glared at him from across the table and countered, “If I remember correctly, you were sucking cock just a few days ago.” Chuck’s gaze fell to his plate of food in shame.

“Well, most of us have,” Matty chimed in, sounding conciliatory. “It’s just one duty of a cuckold. Best get used to it.”

An awkward silence hung over them until Finn finally entered the room. He practically stomped up to the table–clothed in nothing but his bright pink leash–and dragged the empty chair directly across from Mason on the floor loudly before saying, “Do you ever get violent thoughts?”

“All the time,” Brendan said, still shoveling food into his mouth.

“What is it?” Mason asked, not paying Brendan as much mind. “Have a seat.” Finn looked down at him annoyed before taking his place at the table.

When he didn’t answer, Mason continued, “Where have you been? I had half a mind to assume you actually made it out of here.” His newfound friend looked just as frustrated and dismayed, if not more, after this opinion.

“Don’t even joke about that,” he insisted. Mason watched his eyes travel to the high sun in the window behind him. “I would kill for a breath of fresh air,” he said, his voice getting quieter.

“I know,” Mason prefaced before saying, “But our little escape attempt was pointless, anyway. They’re all miles away. What were we going to do, run to them?” Finn only looked more discontented. “The bulls would’ve beaten us up and left us on the street, if we ever got there.”

“Stop,” he finally said, glaring right into his soul.

“It’s useless, Finn. We can’t compete with black men,” Mason answered, trying to get his friend to see reason, as he had.

“Amen to that,” Matty murmured, so soft-spoken, before raising her glass of water to her painted lips.

“And what made you see the light so suddenly?” Finn asked him incredulously. “Just a few days ago, you were calling them stupid.”

“I was wrong,” Mason said, his voice firm now. “Just think of how Abraham fucked Fiona yesterday. Making us watch… Neither of us could ever fuck her like that. None of us could.” Finn just gave him a cold look that told him he was right.

“It’s just… unbelievable,” he said now, seemingly at least somewhat calmed down.

“Here I was, thinking I was doing what every normal straight guy does, finding some quality pussy and living happily ever after…” His voice trailed off, and it seemed like he was on the verge of tears. “Now she’s out there fucking a black man, and I’m stuck here sucking black cock.”

“Exactly,” Matty said solidly from the head of the table. Finn stared daggers right through her, but the sissy remained unphased.

“It didn’t work out for us, Finn,” Mason said to cut the tension between them. “Those days are over. We’re here to be transformed, don’t you see? It’s like a second chance in the world.”

He was being dead serious, but Finn just paused and let out a sardonic laugh in his face. “I know you’re pissed off, but it’s better this way. It’s all true.”

“Those days are over, huh? Those days are over,” Finn mocked him after chortling back his laugh.

“Yes. Those days are over, because we’re whiteboys. Whiteboys can never be men. I think it’s best to just accept it,” Mason said, sincerely.

“So no more sneaking out? No more escape attempts? No more disobedience?” Finn questioned him, still frustrated.

“No more,” Mason answered, “It’s done. I’m done fighting it.”

“So you just lie down and surrender?” Finn pressed on.

“Yes, I surrender,” Mason said, dropping the matter there. “After my chores today, I’m going to beg Fiona to unlock my cock cage again. If she says no, I’ll just keep doing what I’m told.”

“Submission will set you free,” Matty concurred, raising her glass to her lips with a flourish once again. “I for one am glad that both of you have come around to my position,” she said after taking a sip.

“In the meantime, why don’t you eat with us, Finn? Stuff your mouth with something other than Abraham’s cock,” Mason suggested in jest.

“Whatever,” Finn said, pulling a plate towards himself.

♠♠♠♠♠

Meanwhile, Natasha sat at the table inside the cabin’s ground floor with Leya. Darius was upstairs on their bed, waiting for her to refresh herself and come up for more of his big black cock. His presence lingered deep within her body as she sipped from an ice cold water bottle Robin fetched her from the fridge. The little bitch just stood by the wall in his maid’s dress waiting for another order from any one of them–completely unconcerning.

“Whew! I might be getting a little tired,” she said in half-jest as the plastic bottle crackled in her ringed fingers.

“Already?” she heard a sweet voice say from the couches behind her. “It’s only the middle of the day,” Savannah, the thick pale ginger girl, said without a hint of irony.

“She means the constant fucking is finally wearing her down,” Leya clarified with a flourish of her light brown curls and a comedic grin on her face.

“No, I’m fine,” Natasha insisted after a laugh. “Where’s Eleanor?” she asked.

“Why? Do you need her help?” a soft and quick voice that could only be Ariana’s spoke from behind her other side.

Natasha turned around to see her standing there, wearing nothing but a tight black one-piece bathing suit cut with elaborate patterns to show off her cleavage and hips. There was some venom in her voice, but not too much. Natasha only stared and smiled–what Eleanor would do, she realized–before saying anything.

“No, I’m doing just fine, thank you,” she said with a blunt edge to her own words.

“Good,” Ariana said, unclear if she caught on. “I’m going swimming with Jackson. He’s already out in the water. Wanna come? We’ll wait for you to get ready, or whatever you want.” She seemed so sweet in that moment.

“That’s alright. Thanks for inviting me, though,” Natasha answered her. She didn’t even really think about it beforehand, but it might be fun.

“Okay, well, you know where to find us,” the wispy blonde said before turning to walk out the side door. Natasha watched her leave before turning back to Leya.

“So… How are things with Jamal?” she asked her casually, though she already knew; the two of them had been picking up speed in fucking nearly every night recently, right in the bedroom that all of them shared.

“Very good,” she said, and as her excitement rose so too did her smile.

“We should totally do something like Wednesday night again, if he’s down,” Natasha suggested in their shared air of elation.

“Oh, yes! We totally should!” Leya agreed as the side door behind her creaked open yet again.

“It’s so freeing being here with our black kings,” Natasha gushed, the sound of her voice bouncing above the stomping of boots.

“Freedom is an illusion,” Eleanor said as a matter of fact, hovering over Leya’s right hand side. She was a blade that cut through their airy feelings and a storm cloud brewing all around them all at once. Still, she smiled all the same.

She was wearing her elegant white shirt with the shoulders showing again. Dominik stood behind her, as well, proceeding to wrap his hand around the part of her waist left bare by the little top.

“What you really need is empowerment,” she said, still laying down the law. “…which is why you can’t break up with Finn.” She pulled a chair back and sat, staring at Leya all the way.

“Not this again,” Leya said, looking like she tried her hardest not to physically roll her eyes. A pause passed them by.

“You can’t be serious,” she continued. “What do you even mean by that?”

“You know exactly what I mean,” Eleanor lightly snipped back at her. “Or has all this time gone by without you having learned a thing from me?”

“I can’t do this, Eleanor,” Leya said, exasperated. She tried to turn, get up, and leave, but Eleanor grabbed her hand and she froze at its touch.

“No, don’t run away from this. It’s a conversation that must be had,” she declared. Leya slowly turned back and retook her seat beside her friend.

“Eleanor, I think I really love Jamal. Can’t you see that? Does that mean anything to you?” Leya’s annoyance was palpable.

“That’s okay,” she replied like it meant nothing at all. “You can feel however you wish,” she clarified in sweeter tones upon noticing Leya’s unsettled demeanor. “The form is what really matters.”

“The form?” Leya questioned, taken off her guard now.

“The orientation your love takes. The arrangement you’re in. The arrangement all of us are in.” Eleanor looked both methods towards Savannah and then Natasha as she spoke. Natasha only found it eligible to nod in assent to her.

She looked back to Leya and nearly whispered, “Cuckoldry.” Eleanor seemed to simmer sweetly with arousal just at saying the word.

“Cuckoldry,” Leya repeated, almost laughing, somehow. “You want me to do this forever? I don’t even love Finn. I’ve already found better-” she stopped. “Thanks to you,” she finished, in order to assuage Eleanor’s ego, presumably.

“Better is cuckoldry,” Eleanor insisted. “That’s what I’ve found for you. The whole doesn’t function without each and every one of its parts. Combine any two of the components without the third, and you’re doing something else. You’ll have essentially ruined yourself and gone right back to where you started.”

“I can’t believe you would say that to me!” Leya squealed now, not seeing the forest for the trees.

“You know what I mean, though,” Eleanor said, calmer.

“You’re lucky he’s not in here right now,” Leya retorted. Dominik shifted forwards ever so slightly, still standing there behind them all.

“Well, if he’s got an issue, he can take it up with me,” the tall black king spoke bravely. Leya fell silent. Eleanor smiled.

“Come on, Leya. You know I didn’t mean it that way. You know what I’m saying is true,” Eleanor pressed on.

“So, what? Am I supposed to continue pretending to be enthusiastic when he wants me? Am I supposed to give him pity sex?” Leya squirmed, totally resistant.

Eleanor just shook her head. “No, no… Cut him off. It’ll be better for everyone if he knows his place,” she clarified.

“Well, Raina told me she would turn him into a slut, remember? Said he’d become unrecognizable to me. He’ll be reduced to the status of a gay best friend, if I stick around after this is all over. He’ll be a eunuch. For all I know, he could be castrated.” Leya let it all out.

“Is that what you want for me, when you’ve already found me better?”

“Leya…” Eleanor spoke slowly. “Did you even hear a single word I just said?” The air around them was ice, so cold it was frozen, even on a summer day.

“Everything they’re doing to him at the camp is to show him his place as your cuckold. A cuckold is better than any ‘gay best friend’ could be. You’re lucky to be in this position, truly, which is why I’m urging you not to give it up.” She certainly was urgent in her words.

While Leya tried to discover some words of her own to respond, Natasha turned her gaze towards Robin at the wall behind her left shoulder. The skinny little maid-boy looked exceptionally and deliciously intimidated by the entire conversation. He seemed almost wounded by it.

“Eleanor, Finn isn’t Matty,” Leya finally said. “He’s never taken well to this whole cuckold thing.”

“That’s what the camp is for,” Eleanor countered, sharp as steel. One might think she ran the place herself judging purely by the way she talked about its workings.

“I don’t know, Eleanor…” Leya stammered back.

“Just trust me. It will all make sense in time,” Eleanor replied with heavy sincerity.

Then, Robin softly stepped away from the wall and towards the table. Natasha could feel their little house-cuck lingering behind her.

“Goddess Leya, if I could speak…” the maid requested, trailing off, intimidated. Both Eleanor and Leya turned their gazes to him.

“Go ahead,” Eleanor granted, mercifully. Robin looked to her with a grateful nod then turned his head right back to Leya.

The pitiful thing proceeded to move even closer to her, before lowering himself down to both knees beside her seat. She looked down on him with nothing but disgust and contempt.

“Speaking from my… limited experience…” the maid-boy continued, trailing off again, speaking so softly in comparison to the others that it was somewhat hard to hear his little voice.

“I can tell you, if I may, that I would’ve greatly preferred that my ex-girlfriend kept me as her cuckold, instead of selling me out to Abraham. I loved her with all my heart. I know this world is cruel, but I never asked for this life. I’m sure Finn wouldn’t, either.”

Robin’s gaze didn’t falter, but his eyes became teary as he stared up at Leya from the floor. “Time will tell, I suppose,” he added, looking back to Eleanor for a moment, and then returning his wet gaze to Leya.

“But if you can find it in your heart to stay the course, I beg that you do.” He pressed his pale little hands together in front of him in prayer to his superiors–the same position Natasha liked to bind him in.

Leya looked changed by his words–not softened, exactly, but more open. “Maybe if he turns out as subservient as you,” she said with a slight but foreboding grin before spitting directly onto Robin’s forehead. A line of saliva fell from her bottom lip to meet his chin, and it all began running down his face rather quickly.

“Thank you, Goddess Leya,” was Robin’s only response.

“Wear that with pride,” she commanded, “Now go away.”

“Yes, Goddess Leya,” Robin said before standing up and shuffling off toward Savannah in the lounge.

Natasha and Eleanor shared a knowing but surprised glance. “She’s really catching on, after all,” Natasha said with mirth.

“It just felt right,” Leya explained.

“Exactly,” Eleanor said, seizing on the moment. “Hold onto that feeling like your life depends on it.” Despite Natasha taking humor in what had just happened, Eleanor was dead serious.

♠♠♠♠♠

Mason slinked down the staircase to the ground floor of the camp. The great majority of the day had already passed them by, and he had successfully completed all of his tasks. Every inch of the upstairs bathroom he had scrubbed clean. The entire floor was spotless after his obedient work.

Still wearing his new sissy clothes, Mason felt it all made a new sort of sense. Maybe a frilly pink skirt and a tight little bra would help Finn accept his place, as well. Only time could tell.

He reached the ground floor and moved with a fresh sort of flourish towards the large kitchen at his left. Fiona stood behind the counter in its center, alongside Matty, who was still wearing her new maid’s dress. Her hands were clasped together at her waist, and her gaze seemed fixed out one of the windows above the sink before her.

Fiona just looked at her; the both of them composed a frozen image together, some cold and unforgiving picture of dominance and submission. Not knowing what it was they had been doing, Mason entered quietly and waited for his presence to catch the goddess’s attention.

She looked prettier than usual to him, then; he supposed it had something to do with the show she put on for he and Finn the day before. Her body was especially delicious, still mostly exposed–aside from her best parts–in her bright red Queen of Spades bra and panties.

His eyes moved up the curves of her voluptuousness from her pale thighs clutched together to her luscious belly fat all the way up to her enormous tits, which stuck out even farther even from behind the bra. When his gaze reached her face, her cold blue eyes met his own, and he froze.

“What is it, beta?” the pale redheaded queen asked him.

Mason shifted in his pose nervously before replying, “Goddess, I’ve completed all my chores for the day. I’ve come to beg a request of you.”

Fiona looked him up and down herself and almost burst out laughing just at the sight of him–the way she had made him be.

Instead, she said, “You don’t get to say when you’re done, whiteboy. I tell you when your work day’s over. Got it?” Mason only sighed and then, swept up in the throes of her ever-present domination, dropped to his knees in weakness.

“Yes, Goddess, I’m sorry, Goddess,” he stammered out as his knees hit the cold, hard floor.

“Good,” Fiona said before traipsing around the counter and standing high above his kneeling form.

“So submissive today,” she said proudly. “Did you enjoy watching me get blacked for the very first time yesterday?” Her voice was somewhere between sweet and mocking.

“Yes, Goddess,” Mason answered quickly. “I would be honored to watch you again.”

His eyes traveled over to Matty, who now looked at him with a hint of envy. She hadn’t been present for that.

“Such a good boy,” Fiona remarked. “Now, what is this request you have to pose to me?”

Mason felt it safe to outright say it. He looked up into Fiona’s pretty round face and begged, “May I please be released from my chastity cage? It’s been so many days, and I just want permission to touch myself again. Please, Goddess, I’m begging you…” Fiona’s finger landed against his lips to cut him off.

“Shh,” she said. His lips were fully stilled. She slowly pulled her finger back and ordered him, “Show it to me.”

Mason moved slow as well, running both hands down each of his thighs to pull his pink little skirt up by its hems. When his locked up little cock was revealed to the goddess, she burst with an outright laugh.

“You’re not getting out of that cage, bitchboy,” she confirmed through her laughter.

“Yes, Goddess…” Mason begrudgingly murmured below the sound of her laughing at him.

Taken up in a dominant frenzy, Fiona whirled around towards Matty, who lingered on behind them. “Sissy slave!” she called, much louder than was necessary. “Bring me a big wooden spoon.”

Oh, God, Mason wondered. He feared he may have inadvertently brought another ass-beating on himself. Still, he kept his shame exposed and knelt in waiting.

Matty’s hazel eyes looked up to her slyly and she said, “Right away, Goddess.” The maid turned to grab a large wooden spoon from a nearby drawer and hurried her way around the counter to hand it off to the goddess. She returned to her former position after the task was complete.

Fiona stood above Mason imperiously still, tapping the end of the spoon against her left hand several times. “Those bloated little balls are in for a treat,” she said darkly.

The spoon straightened in her right hand and she bent down to grasp Mason’s black leather leash in her left. She walked right by him, and he was compelled to follow her on his hands and knees all the way to the couch. The big red goddess took a seat and beckoned him closer towards her.