I serve a golden goddess. You look at my proud blue eyes, alabaster skin and raven hair, my taut body and high proud breasts and acknowledge that I am out of your league. You are right, and you are wrong. You are right, you may not have me. You are wrong, I am not standing high in my power and position, but lowest of the low; abject and devoted slave to my golden goddess.

She shines in my eyes like fire and sunlight, the source of all warmth, light, love, hope, and worth. She towers above me, not because she is taller; no, I must kneel or crawl so that I do not ever dare to stand higher even by accident. She towers above me as my superior in all things, my Mistress, my owner. I bear her collar, gave up my name for a number when I signed my slave contract to be hers forever.

I am 138-648-867. I have no name, no rights, no will of my own. I am called what Mistress chooses. I believe what Mistress chooses. I desire so deeply to have any hint or hope of any thoughts that run counter to hers to be crushed. Each time I hesitate, and Mistress teaches me the error of my ways, she proves she is right, she is superior in all ways. I kiss her feet when she is done, kneeling before my golden goddess.

Her skin is dark as the hour after twilight, her lips like the bruises on the sky that precede dawn. Black and brown tones cover her skin like chocolate, but far sweeter to my lips. Black dreadlocks fall from her head like the serpents of Medusa, each sway hypnotising and binding me, her smile capturing and binding me frozen more than the demigoddess of legend.

Why is she my golden goddess?

I greet her at the door in my uniform. My rank and command badges proud upon my tunic. Her hand gently cups my neck and draws me into the hall. Gently pulling out my slave collar, she smiles and my heart begins to thunder, the black and silver links symbolizing her black hand and will intertwined in all aspects of my body, mind and spirit, no aspect of my self or my life not filled with the central truth of her ownership.

Pressing her lips to mine she kisses me with the kind of wild abandon that takes my breath, drives all thought from me and has me whimpering like a bitch dog in heat, clutching at her shirt, trying to pull her deeper into my kiss.

Grabbing me by the throat, she slams me back against the wall. Three times she slaps my face. Not the hard slaps of abuse, no these are just enough to raise pink handprints and turn my head. Each slap lighting a fire in my skin that races over me, nipples swelling, labia swelling, heat rising in me as a blush that runs from my face to my sex. Need. Naked need for her dominance.

“Slave slut, I have needed you for a half hour. I don’t like having to wait for my little whore. I told you I would hold it for you, and I don’t like being kept waiting at all.” She spoke in a calm reasonable tone that did not quite hide the throbbing anger beneath.

I am fumbling with my buttons, but I am not fast enough. She tears my tunic open. I will have to resew two buttons before I put it in the laundry. She drops my face to her bare foot and I begin to kiss and lick it as she strips my uniform tunic from me. Undoing my bra, she wraps it around my neck like a leash and pulls me into a kneeling position. She takes my beret off my head, and places it on her own.

“This is the uniform of a proud woman. Who does it belong to, a slave slut like you?” she shouts at me.

My pussy twitches, spasming as if around the strap on, fingers or fist she has not yet put into me. My body knows who is the proud woman here, and who is the abject slave slut who begs to be worthy to be used by such a golden goddess.

“It is yours, Mistress. My uniform, my rank, my body. Everything I have is yours, Mistress. Please let me serve you!” I beg with a desperation that excites and shames me.

She bends down and kisses me, and it is good I am kneeling. I would surely have fallen, as my knees lost all strength, my body simply giving her every ounce of my strength. Her passion sweeps my will away like autumn leaves in a storm.

Strutting to the bathroom, she leads me past her wife on all fours, my big white tits swaying as her wife looks over in gentle amusement and waves hello. She is wife, and I am slave. There was a time I feared she would be jealous, but her heart is great, great as my Mistress.

To the bathroom we go. She puts me on my knees in the tub.

Mistress strips off her pants in a single motion. Her black pussy is shaved clean and already wet and open like the very flower of temptation. I lean forward to kiss it and strive to reach her clit, but she uses my bun like a handle and will not let me do more than lightly kiss her perfect black pussy. Slapping my face again she demands my apology.

“I am sorry, Mistress, your worthless slave kept you waiting. Mistress should never suffer discomfort because her slave is not here to attend her. Mistress is goddess, and I kneel at your altar and beg for your favour.” I am begging with a hunger that makes her smirk.

Looking up at her, proud breasts contained in her sports bra, my own uniform tunic and beret showing that she has claimed all that I have earned, all that I might be, I look at her beautiful black face and see the hint of a smile. I open my mouth like a begging baby bird, and my golden goddess grants me her favour.

Bright gold and hot, her piss sprays less than neatly and I must close my eyes as it fills my mouth, but covers my cheeks as well before she rocks her hips to point it at my chin and neck. I swallow convulsively, I feel the burn come into me as I work my hands over my breasts, rubbing her golden pee into every inch of my skin, undoing my belt and zipper so I can rub the stream of pee over my own pale white pussy.

Undoing my bun, she grabs my hair as it falls into a pony tail half way down my back and uses it to control my face. I clean her thighs where she has splashed, such that her perfect black skin shows no trace of pee. She takes me closer and closer to paradise, but her strong hand on my hair keeps me from lunging to paradise with my tongue until I have cleaned every inch of her skin.

At last, my whimpering is silenced as she pulls me to her pussy and Mistress allows me to clean her perfect cunt. I do a bad job. As fast as I lick the last of the pee, soon there is more wetness, and I must lap at that. Honey sweet as any the gods have been offered flows from her as I worship with my tongue. At last Mistress allows me to take her swelling clit between my lips and suck it like the cocks I no longer need.

I see her throw her head back, her dark eyes rolling back into her head as my love and devotion, her toilet slave and pussy slave, brings to my Mistress the pleasure she deserves.

Grinding me now into her pussy, I take advantage of Mistress' distraction to grab her perfect black ass in my hands. I pull myself deeper into her pussy, my tongue probing inside her as her strap on or hand often probes my own pussy. Squeezing her tight black ass, I let my tongue curl and dance on her sweet hidden spot. She is humping my face now, slow echoes of the wild passion of her dancing. I am drawn from pussy to clit again and again; alternating sucking her clit to lapping her pussy.

My face is coated in her glory as finally I feel her hands like claws dig into my scalp as she screams and convulses, hot cum squirting in little blasts with her convulsions like heart blood from a wounded stag. I suck and swallow as fast as I can, stopping breathing in my need to claim it all. Sucking and licking wildly, I feel Mistress collapse and it is my own iron arms that hold her upright, my Mistress limp in my arms, safe and protected by her slave as she lets her body ride the bliss of attainment.

Taking a deep breath, she stands again. Turning my face upwards, she looks sternly at me, but her eyes are soft and shining, still lost in her bliss.

“Clean yourself off bitch, I won’t have you like that at my table.” She purrs contentedly at me as she rises to leave.

Striding from the bathroom, Mistress returns to the kitchen where she cooks for her wife and slave, because she loves us both, even if only her wife deserves it. I take off my soiled pants and notice Mistress has laid out soft black lingerie for me to wear, a little Lindt chocolate sits on the panties. Mistress has left a treat for her pet. She is my golden goddess, and I her loving slave.

As I wash her golden gift from my skin, I stop myself before I cum, because I will only do that in her presence. My orgasms belong to her, and I am no thief.