As a submissive black bitch-boy I live to serve her…those oft times kinky commands that come ringing off of her tongue are akin to aphrodisiacs of the highest order…”Bitch-boy do this or do that…” It is excitement at a very heightened degree. Her moods change, that mischievous gleam in her beautiful eyes warning of something ribald and naughty… I am up to the challenge of being lead into her depraved desires. She molds me into not societies version of what a man should be but into the sort of man she wants me to be. “Come here bitch-boy…” is often followed by visions of her laying naked and the smell of sex clinging to her surrounds, her lover my have already left or he may still be there watching with judgmental eyes with a smirk on his condescending face. The familiar lovers know the deal, some dutifully stand before my kneeling form and wipe their dripping cocks in my shorty curly afro or the side of my face, some just say, “Open” and I quickly open my mouth and clean their big cocks for them. But it is her new lovers which bring novel excitement because they’ve never witnessed a strong athletic handsome African-American male so servile and pliant. They watch as this stereotypical symbol of western masculinity falls upon his hands and knees and crawls across the floor to lick up their cum from her body, bedsheets or floor or even from their dicks. I lick their balls and asses too at her command. I beg for more and they watch stupefied and unbelieving, this excites her and me as well. Her lover? Some are silent, most are not, they laugh, or chuckle and mock me derisively. I have been called fag, punk bitch, sissy, etc. It is often humiliating, but I push through those self-defeating feelings, they serve as fuel to rise about it all. Because I do this not for them or their pleasure nor mine. I do it for her. For her pleasure only. And if she is pleased then that is another quill of pride adorning my dutiful heart … for I love her so.