Black New World Order

My real master is black and I am his white slave boy. I would love the world that is revealed in this story... where whites are destined to slavery because of their colour

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  • 3 Min Read

It’s no real comfort that I am not alone in my position.  I am the same as all of my friends and peers: at the mercy of my betters. 

 The new White Reparation laws were a shock.  They extend to every white male.  Whites are no longer permitted to breed.  No longer equal.  No longer equipped as men.Every white male aged 12 and above is fitted with a permanent tiny nub chastity device without exception, and removal of the device carries immediate harsh penalties.  Every white male over 18 years is now a slave.  The black male is king.

I'm 24.  I should be a peak specimen.  If I were free.  I should be out drinking with my friends and working out at the gym.  But the thought is so far removed from my world now.

Of course, I have lost my freedom irrevocably. I am allowed no dignity or pretence of equality.  I am the property of the Black New World Order now.  And since the Autumn property sale I have been owned by Marcus.   Marcus is 18 and my black Master now.  As such, he decides on every aspect of my life.  I am born to serve my owner and make his life easier: such is the destiny of the white male now.

I am not bitter.  I have been conditioned.  I know my place.  I have accepted that I am inferior, despite my looks and my physique.

I had completed my Oxford degree in Law.  I was a trainee barrister.  I had the trappings of success already:  nice car, city flat.   All gone now.  My former possessions now transferred to my Master and my future settled.  Classified as inferior.  Destined to a life of menial devotion.

..--..

The Spring sunshine means I am not too cold today.  However,I still find my slave outfit unbearably demeaning. That is of course its purpose.  A visible signal that the white slave wears in my public as our only permitted outfit.    I walk down the busy main street to conduct my Master's shopping.  Barefoot and dressed only in my skintight white unitard and metal slave collar. My body entirely exposed to every free person of colour who passes me.  The smirks as black males glance down at the metal nub that encases my tiny dick.  A further visual symbol of my inferiority.

I walk silently.  Head bowed as I pass fellow white slaves dressed in the same humiliating costume.  Heads shaved bald.  Bodies hairless and dicks useless.  The concept that we were once proud men alien now.  The stencilled SLAVE across our foreheads a permanent mark of subhuman status.

And - as I pass the old pub in which I used to drink - I am stopped by a middle aged man on his phone, dressed smartly.  He motions for me to kneel.  Without a word or hesitation, I submit.  Undoing his zip, I pull out his free penis.  Carefully, reverently, I insert it between my lips and drink down the accrid piss without spilling a drop.  Fastening him away, he continues. Not a word of acknowledgement towards the white inferior urinal.

Everything is so unreal.  Walking around barefoot in society.  Every muscle on full display.  A society that I once belonged in. Now only for non-whites.  As a slave I only serve.  Submit.

I collect master's groceries and join the slave queue.  Separate from free people.  As I reach the front, I pull my locked dick out of my unitard and the cashier - an attractive girl of a similar age - smirks as she grabs my junk.  Twisting it and locating Master's barcode.  Tattooed under my balls. The payment is registered and I push my genitals back away.  Ready for the return journey.

I hurry back to my former home, stripping naked at the door.  Master will expect his flat to be spotless when he returns and I get to work immediately.  I also have his laundry and to prepare his meal.

Finally after an afternoon of heavy menial work, I assume his commanded position for when he returns.    I lie in front of his settee on the wooden floor, on my back.  Raising my arse high into the air, I pull my legs forward in the air and clasp my feet down into my hands.  My body an obscene displayed object of submission.  My arse up as the highest point.  I have learnt to light the candle inserted in my hole and balance his drink of choice on my arse cheeks.

Alone.  Naked.  A servile inferior table waiting in humiliation for my young owner to return.  I exist only to please him.


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