White Sissy To BBC

I wasn't always a black-owned little sissy slut if you can believe it. There was a time not that long ago when the idea of a thick black cock anywhere near my body made me freeze up and make excuses. I told myself I only liked white guys, that I was just a curious crossdresser who liked soft fabrics and the occasional discreet hookup with men who looked like me. Looking back now it feels like someone else's life. These days the second a heavy black dick is pulled out in front of me my little clit starts leaking inside whatever panties or padded pull-ups I'm wearing and my mouth waters like a trained dog. I belong to them. My holes are for black men only. White cock doesn't even register anymore. It's black cock or nothing, and I get down on my knees and thank them for using me.

It started on a Friday night when my buddy Jason called. Jason was the only person who knew about the lingerie under my clothes and the way I sometimes locked a little plastic cage around my clit when I was alone. He had a nasty streak and a serious fetish for watching white boys like me get wrecked by hung black guys. I had shut him down every time he brought it up. That night he said his place was still a mess from the fire and he was stuck in a cheap motel off the interstate. He had some good pills. Ecstasy. The old-school kind that made your skin feel electric and turned every touch into pure need. I told myself I was just going over to get high and maybe let him play with me a little while I was dressed up. I packed a bag with the white lace babydoll that barely covered my ass, black thigh-highs with the little bows, and a fresh pair of pull-ups because the crinkle and the padding always made my clit throb.

Thirty minutes after I swallowed the pill the heat hit me like a wave. My skin flushed. My nipples tightened into hard points under the lace. Every breath felt like someone was dragging silk over my body. Jason had me stretched out on the motel bed giving me a slow massage, oil slick on my back and the backs of my thighs. I was already grinding against the mattress, the soft bulk of the pull-up rubbing my locked little clit just right. I needed to be filled. I needed something thick and hard and I didn't care how I got it.

Then the knock came.

Jason smiled that sly smile of his and went to the door. Two big black men walked in. One was tall and broad with a shaved head and a thick gold chain. The other was a little shorter but built like a linebacker, dark skin gleaming under the cheap motel lights. They looked at me stretched out in my babydoll and thigh-highs and the padded white pull-up and both of them grinned.

"This the little sissy?" the taller one asked.

Jason just nodded and took a seat at the small table like he was settling in for a show. "That's Nicole. She's flying high on X right now."

I wanted to curse him out but the drug had my tongue thick and my body humming. The taller man sat on the edge of the bed near my feet. "Jason says you don't fuck with black guys."

I couldn't answer. My clit was pulsing inside the pull-up. The shorter one laughed and stood at the foot of the bed. He reached down and slowly pulled out the biggest cock I had ever seen up close. Thick, dark, already half hard and growing heavier in his fist. The head was broad and shiny. Veins stood out along the shaft. It looked like it could split me open.

"Bet if I pulled this out you wouldn't want to suck it," he said, stroking slowly.

My mouth watered. The ecstasy made every thought circle around that cock. I bit my lip hard enough to taste copper. He kept stroking, the head swelling. "No?"

I crawled forward on my hands and knees before I even decided to move. The lace of the babydoll rode up. The pull-up crinkled with every shift of my hips. I reached out with one small white hand and wrapped my fingers around that thick black shaft. The contrast made my stomach flip. His skin was so dark against mine. He was hot and heavy and already starting to leak clear fluid at the tip.

"You can suck it if you want," he said.

I didn't hesitate. I opened my mouth and took the broad head between my lips. The taste was clean and slightly salty and I moaned around it. My tongue worked the underside while I tried to stretch my jaw wider. He was thicker than anything I had ever had in my mouth. I started slow, just sucking the head and licking around the ridge, but the drug and the size of him pulled me under. I pushed forward until the head bumped the back of my throat and I gagged, spit running down my chin onto the lace of the babydoll.

"Look at that," the taller one said. His hand slid under the babydoll and found my chest, pinching and rolling my nipples until they ached. Then his fingers trailed down over my stomach and into the waistband of the pull-up. He found my locked little clit and gave it a firm squeeze through the plastic. I whimpered around the cock in my mouth and pushed my hips back against his hand.

The man whose cock I was sucking pulled out with a wet sound. Strings of spit connected my lips to his shiny head. He smacked my cheek lightly with it, leaving a smear of my own spit across my face.

"Beg for it, sissy."

I looked up at him, eyes already glassy. "Please let me suck your big black cock. Please. I need it."

He fed it back into my mouth and I took it greedily, bobbing my head, trying to get more of that thick shaft past my lips. Behind me the taller man yanked the pull-up down just enough to expose my ass. Cool air hit my skin. Then two thick fingers pressed against my tight hole and pushed inside without much warning. I squealed around the cock and the sound made both of them laugh.

"Tight little white ass," the taller one said. He worked his fingers deeper, scissoring them, stretching me open while I kept sucking. The pull-up was still around my thighs, padded material bunching and crinkling every time I moved. My little clit was leaking steadily inside the cage, the fabric already damp.

Jason was at the table stroking his own smaller white cock and pointing his phone at us. The red light told me he was recording. Instead of feeling shame I felt hotter. I wanted him to catch every second of me on my knees with black cock stretching my mouth and black fingers opening my ass.

The man behind me pulled his fingers out and I heard his pants hit the floor. The blunt head of his cock pressed between my cheeks. He rubbed it up and down, smearing precum over my hole. I pushed back against him, desperate.

"Fuck my ass," I mumbled around the cock in my mouth. "Please fuck my white ass with that big black dick."

He pushed forward. The head stretched me wide and the burn made my eyes water but the ecstasy turned the pain into pure need. Inch by thick inch he forced himself inside until his hips were flush against my ass and I felt completely full. He held still for a second, letting me feel every vein and ridge, then he started to fuck me in long deep strokes.

I was spit-roasted between them. One black cock pounding my throat, the other wrecking my ass. The sound of skin slapping skin filled the small motel room. My pigtails bounced. The babydoll was shoved up under my arms. Spit and precum ran down my chin and dripped onto the bed. Every time the man behind me bottomed out I saw stars. My locked clit throbbed and leaked without ever getting hard.

"You love that black dick, don't you, snowbunny?"

I pulled off the cock in my mouth long enough to answer, voice hoarse. "Yes. Fuck yes. I love black cock. Don't stop. Please don't stop."

He grabbed a fistful of my hair and shoved back into my throat. The man behind me spanked my ass hard enough to leave handprints and kept pounding. Jason zoomed in with the phone, catching the way my hole stretched around the thick black shaft and the way spit bubbles formed at the corners of my mouth.

The first man pulled out of my throat and stroked himself fast right in front of my face. "Open up, slut. Take this load."

I stuck my tongue out and closed my eyes. Thick ropes of cum hit my lips, my cheeks, my forehead. Some landed in my open mouth and I swallowed what I could. More dripped down my chin. He wiped the last of it across my face with the head of his cock and told me to leave it there.

The man in my ass didn't stop. He kept fucking me through it, harder now, chasing his own orgasm. When he finally pulled out I felt empty and gaping. He flipped me onto my back, shoved my legs up, and pushed back into my stretched hole in one smooth thrust. Then he leaned down and started railing me missionary style while the first man climbed onto the bed and fed his half-hard cock back into my messy mouth so I could clean him.

I came like that, locked clit pulsing and leaking into the pull-up while a thick black cock stretched my ass and another rested on my tongue. My whole body shook. Tears ran from the corners of my eyes and mixed with the cum on my face. They both laughed and kept using me.

After that first load they switched. The taller one took my ass while the other made me suck him clean again. They made me say it over and over.

"I'm a black cock slut."

"My white ass belongs to black dick."

"I'll never go back to white boys."

Jason filmed every second. He made me look at the camera while I was being fucked and repeat the words. I did it willingly. The ecstasy and the stretch and the taste of cum had rewritten something in my head.

They used me for hours. When one needed a break the other kept my holes busy. They made me ride reverse cowgirl so Jason could get a clear shot of my stretched pink hole swallowing black cock. They had me on my back with my knees by my ears while one of them jackhammered my ass and the other sat on my face so I could lick his heavy balls. Cum leaked out of me in thick white streaks every time they pulled out. They rubbed it into my skin, into the lace of the babydoll, into the padding of the pull-up.

By the time the sun started coming up outside the thin curtains I was a mess. Cum in my hair, drying on my face, leaking from my well-used hole. My throat was raw. My ass throbbed. My little clit was sore from being squeezed and ignored inside its cage. The two men finally got dressed, left their numbers in my phone under names like "Big Black" and "Deep Stroke," and walked out laughing.

Jason sat on the edge of the bed and showed me some of the video. Me on my knees begging. Me with my mouth stretched wide. Me bouncing on black cock with my tongue out and my eyes rolled back. I should have been disgusted. Instead I reached down and pressed on my caged clit through the soaked pull-up and came again just from watching.

That was the night everything changed.

The next few weeks were a blur of texts and late-night drives. They would message me at random hours. "Come over, sissy. Bring the diapers." Or "We're at the motel again. Wear something slutty." I always went. I started keeping a bag in my car with extra pull-ups, lube, a couple of short skirts, and a few different cages for my clit. I stopped answering messages from the white guys I used to fool around with. Their cocks felt small and pointless in my memory compared to the heavy black ones that had stretched me open.

One night they brought a third friend. He was even thicker. They took turns making me deepthroat him while the other two played with my ass and my locked clit. They put a collar on me that night, cheap black leather with a little bell. Every time I moved it jingled. They made me crawl from the bed to the bathroom on my hands and knees to get more lube, the bell tinkling the whole way. When I came back they had me suck all three of them in a row until my jaw ached, then they lined up and fucked my ass one after another without giving me time to recover between them. I came so hard from the overstimulation that my vision went white and I sobbed into the mattress.

They started calling me their snowbunny. Their white toilet. Their little sissy cumdump. I answered to all of it. The humiliation only made my clit leak more.

Jason kept recording. He built a private folder of videos and sometimes made me watch them with him while I was locked and plugged. He would pause on the moments where my face looked the most ruined and ask me how it felt. I always told the truth. It felt like coming home.

Months later I barely recognized the person I used to be. My wardrobe had shifted almost entirely to soft feminine clothes and padded underwear. I wore the collar more often than not when I was alone. My phone was full of messages from black men who knew exactly what I was good for. Some of them were friends of the original two. Some found me through the videos Jason carefully shared in certain circles. I never asked for money. I just showed up when they told me to and opened whatever hole they wanted.

One weekend they took me to a house party across town. I arrived already dressed under a long coat: short pink skirt, white thigh-highs, a tight crop top that showed my soft stomach, and a fresh pull-up underneath. The collar was visible at my throat. Inside the house the music was loud and the air smelled like weed and cologne. There were at least six black men there and a couple of women who looked at me with knowing smiles.

They had me strip down to the pull-up and the thigh-highs in the middle of the living room. Someone put a blindfold on me. Hands were everywhere after that. Thick fingers in my mouth. More fingers stretching my already loose hole. Someone pulled the pull-up down and slapped my ass until it burned. Then cocks. So many cocks. I lost count of how many times I was bent over the arm of the couch or made to sit on someone's lap and bounce. They passed me around like a toy. When one finished in my ass another took his place. When my mouth was free someone else filled it. Cum ended up in my hair, on my tits, dripping down my thighs into the crumpled pull-up still around one ankle.

At some point they took the blindfold off so I could see the circle of dark bodies around me. I was on my knees in the middle of the floor, face shiny with spit and cum, collar still jingling every time I moved. One of them held his phone up and told me to tell the camera what I was.

I looked straight into the lens, smiling through the mess on my face.

"I'm a black-owned sissy slut. My holes are for black cock only. I love getting used. Please use me more."

They did. For hours.

When I finally staggered out to my car near dawn I could barely walk straight. My ass felt permanently stretched. My throat was wrecked. The pull-up was a lost cause, heavy with cum and my own leaked fluids. I drove home with the windows down and the cool air on my sticky skin, replaying every moment in my head and already wondering when the next message would come.

That is how it happened. One blue pill, one motel room, two thick black cocks, and a friend who knew exactly what I needed even when I was still too scared to admit it. Now I wake up every day knowing exactly what I am. A white sissy whose purpose is to open up and take black dick whenever it is offered. I keep the collar by the bed. I keep the pull-ups stocked. My little clit stays locked more often than not because it doesn't need to get hard anymore. It just needs to leak while my real holes get filled.

And every time a new heavy black cock is pulled out in front of me, my mouth waters and my body softens and I drop to my knees without being asked. Because that is where I belong. On my knees, or on my back, or bent over whatever surface is closest, taking every inch and every load like the grateful little BBC sissy slut I was always meant to become.