Script written in POV of viewer.
Part 2 of last years Juneteenth video.
The camera, in the first segment, is lower, angled as if I'm kneeling before you. For the remainder, the camera is floor-level looking up at You, flaunting Your beauty and flexing Your muscles.
It's been a year since I signed over my rights to be Your reclaimed family-property during last Juneteenth. During that time, I have done everything You've asked for with enthusiasm and passion. You delight in the complete adoration of You seen in my eyes.
There's no question that the desire is there, but what about the discipline?
You decide to put me through some tests to determine just how disciplined I am to Your Authority.
You order me to kneel before You stroking, gooning with a clear order from you not to cum. Meanwhile, You manipulate me with all of my triggers to drag me into The Sunken Place and get me to break. You're surprised and impressed that I have maintained control, but You're unconvinced. Pushing me backwards (the camera) to the ground with Your foot, You arrogantly stand over me to raise the stakes.
Standing over me like in The Tiny Worshipper video, You put your foot on me and command me to stroke; all while flexing, flaunting your superiority, laughing at how You've regressed me to my true self, urging me to confess that I've never been happier. Happy to be a slave to Your White Goddess perfection. Happier now than ever that I have a White Master to live for.
And again, I passed the test -- which does not please You. This has become a You vs Me scenario. Normally, this level of discipline and devotion would please You, but now, the thought of breaking my will power turns You on even more.
Still standing over me and taunting me, You reveal the bullwhip You used in last year's video. Keeping the handle in your grip, You let the whip uncoil and fall on my chest, pulling the handle up and down slowly to let it brush against my skin. On Your other hand, You hold a leash that is fastened to the collar around my neck.
Now You can see in my eyes that I am on the verge of breaking. The combination of pleasure with the threat of pain from You brings me right to the edge. Your dehumanization of me becomes more intense and then You play the Ace up Your sleeve.
When I gave up my freedom willingly to You last Juneteenth, You told me that after a year of working Your fields, You would elevate me to Your House Boy. You didn't forget, but, of course, there's a catch.
You taunt me by telling me that it's the White Woman's prerogative to change her mind, and it's mine to obey.
So the catch? If I blow my load, You send me back to the fields for another year and we'll see if I'm worthy next Juneteenth. But if I don't blow my load -- if I'm an obedient disciplined Beast -- then I'll be Your House Boy.
Every morning, I'll be permitted to bathe your superior White skin
Carry out Your every command
Stay at the end of Your leash all day
Hear Your mesmerizing voice
See and smell Your Superior White body
Rest at the foot of Your bed
Be inseparable from my Master
Every Black Beast's dream
FINALLY, living the American Dream
And when my eyes roll back and my mouth opens from falling deeper under Your spell, You put Your foot in my mouth and tell me to suck Your toes and pretend it's every part of You I ever dreamed of tasting.
And as You taunt me -- asking if I'm strong enough to keep gooning or will I give into my true nature, obeying the natural order -- I cum. You laugh at me while flexing over me in a Victory pose, asking me Who is my Master -- before You dismiss me to the fields. Better luck next year.
/ Cookie Notice
