Tonight, no hypnotic tricks would be needed. Zulu could freely savor the mature, rugged physique he'd long coveted, indulging in a raw, unbridled feast of carnal passion with the lofty general.
The guards, spotting Zulu's arrival, exchanged knowing nods. Over the past month, they'd grown attuned to the shift in dynamics, recognizing the black-skinned slave's elevated place in their lord's regard. Wisely, they kept their distance, retreating silently.
Zulu lifted the tent's heavy curtain, and the sight before him ignited a primal fire in his veins, his breath quickening with lust. Yagyu Takeo lay sprawled, nearly bare save for a scant fundoshi clinging to his groin and a pair of yellowed socks. His muscular arms, corded with power, stretched languidly overhead, deliberately flaunting the thick, sensual tufts of black hair in his armpits. Reclining provocatively on the plush bedding, his gaze smoldered with hazy, yearning desire, as if awaiting a lover's touch.
"You're late. Why are you standing there?" Takeo tilted his chin, his voice carrying a commanding edge tinged with a subtle, almost coquettish pout. "Get over here and give your general a proper massage."
Zulu grinned, understanding perfectly. He stripped off his clothes in a flash, revealing his chiseled, ebony frame--broad shoulders, sculpted pecs, and a taut, rippling core that exuded raw, masculine potency.
Only then did Zulu notice that his mysteriously vanished garments were now adorning Yagyu Takeo's body, intact and unmistakable.
The fundoshi, steeped in pungent, musky filth, clung tightly to the general's groin, barely containing the outline of a restless, leaking cock--its contours stark, straining as if eager to burst free. The yellowed, reeking socks, glistening as though licked by a lover's tongue, encased Takeo's long, sculpted feet, lending them an obscenely seductive allure that radiated raw, provocative heat.
Zulu couldn't quite decipher the tangled motives behind Takeo's brazen display, but one thing was clear: this provocative act aligned perfectly with his desires, hitting the mark with devastating precision.
In the Black Beast Tribe's customs, the ultimate method of taming a thrall was to have them wear their master's intimate garments, forging an unbreakable bond of dominance and submission.
A wicked, knowing smirk spread across Zulu's face as he closed the distance to the bed, looming over his prey. His voice, low and gravelly, thrummed with barely concealed excitement and anticipation. "General, tonight I'd like to introduce you to a brand-new massage technique."
Takeo's heart surged with irrepressible longing at the words. His hazy eyes widened slightly, gleaming with curiosity and yearning, his voice quickening as he pressed, "Oh? A new method? How will you do it?
Zulu leaned in close, his warm, heavy breath grazing the sensitive shell of Takeo's ear like a teasing feather. His voice, deep and magnetic, dripped with intoxicating allure and provocation. "Tonight, General, I plan to serve you with my tongue--a special kind of! tongue massage."
A molten rush surged through Takeo, his hand instinctively clutching the fundoshi to conceal his already-throbbing erection. Though his tight rear was slick with arousal, he clung to a facade of restraint, feigning contemplation before nodding slightly. "Very well," he said, voice laced with forced dignity. "A lowly black slave like you should serve me with your tongue. Hurry up--get to it and lick me properly."
Zulu complied, lowering himself like a ravenous predator. His lips closed over the firm, full peak of Takeo's chiseled pec, his rough tongue lashing the sensitive nipple with fervent licks, sucks, and teasing pinches.
Within moments, the intense sensation set Takeo ablaze, wrenching lewd moans from his lips. "Oh! you barbarian, you've got some skill! keep licking my nipples! ngh! feels so good! not! not so rough! ohhh! easy!"
His voice, a mix of pleasure and barely veiled embarrassment, broke into stuttering gasps.
Zulu's relentless tongue, like a tireless beast, roamed downward, tracing a path to the inner expanse of Takeo's powerful, hair-dusted thighs, lavishing them with unrestrained, hungry licks.
Sensing no overt resistance from Takeo, Zulu grew bolder. With a swift motion, he hoisted Takeo's muscular legs, propping them high, revealing an unobstructed view. The general's firm, rounded glutes parted, exposing the tight, dusky rosebud nestled between--a glistening, slightly parted entrance, slick with arousal, shimmering seductively in the dim light.
Unable to restrain himself any longer, Zulu dove in, his tongue launching a ferocious assault on the quivering, musky hole.
Takeo unleashed a primal, guttural roar, the sound raw and soul-shattering, echoing into the heavens. "Ohhh--ngh!"
Zulu attacked with the fervor of a lover's kiss, pouring every ounce of passion and force into the relentless tongue massage. His lips sealed around Takeo's tight rim, sucking and lapping with unrestrained hunger. The coarse texture of his tongue, like sandpaper, scraped against the tender inner walls, sending shockwaves of pleasure that made Takeo's sensitive flesh tremble uncontrollably.
Under the onslaught of relentless sensation, Takeo's eyes rolled back, his consciousness fraying. His throbbing cock, primed and desperate, erupted solely from the exquisite torment of Zulu's tongue, spewing scalding seed that drenched the bedding beneath him.
"I saw through your slutty facade from the start!" Zulu's tone shifted, now harsh and scornful, his mask of deference cast aside to reveal a savage, predatory edge.
"Back at the hot spring, it was you, wasn't it? Skulking behind the wall, spying on me fucking that old bastard, even gulping down my filthy piss like a slut! And now, you're the one who stole my stinking socks and raunchy fundoshi, prancing around in them, flaunting your shameless ass for me. You're fucking pathetic! A muscle-bound whore like you, calling yourself a general?!"
Zulu's roar thundered through the tent, each word a vicious lash of contempt and degradation, mercilessly flaying Takeo's fragile pride.
Still basking in the afterglow of his climax, Takeo's foggy consciousness hadn't fully returned. The sudden barrage of insults struck like a sledgehammer, yanking him from euphoria to humiliation. He snapped awake, mortified to realize his depraved display had been laid bare before this barbarian. Shame and fury flooded him, and he struggled to rise in defiance, only to find his sculpted muscles--broad shoulders, chiseled pecs, and powerful thighs--drained by desire, limp and powerless.
"You! you savage--ngh!"
Takeo's outraged retort was cut short by a sharp, searing pain. He writhed, his hips twisting as fractured moans spilled from his lips. "No! stop thrusting! Ohhh--!"
*Slurp, squelch!*
Zulu's tongue, agile as a venomous serpent, ravaged Takeo's vulnerable rim, its coarse surface grinding against the tender flesh. Each stroke unleashed a maddening blend of tingling pleasure and unbearable, aching torment.
"No! ohhh! Stop! please! ahh!"
Takeo's usual veneer of authority and steel crumbled, his voice reduced to a broken, helpless plea laced with pain and pleasure. He was utterly enslaved by his own ravenous desire.
Zulu's fingertips, like the cruel claws of a beast, mercilessly probed and ravaged Takeo's tender rim, tormenting the already hypersensitive flesh. How could his thoroughly conditioned rear withstand such brutal stimulation?
Takeo's cock quivered uncontrollably, and another scalding gush of creamy seed erupted like a geyser from his tip, splattering the bedding beneath him in a shameful deluge.
"You slut, are you screaming to draw a crowd? Want everyone to see you like this--a pathetic, writhing whore?"
Zulu leaned close, his searing breath slithering over Takeo's ear like a venomous serpent, cold and malevolent, as he hissed his threat.
A fierce battle raged within Yagyu Takeo's soul, a brutal clash of reason against desire, morality against instinct. His mind waged war, tearing itself apart. He berated himself inwardly, cursing his descent into depravity. How could a noble, muscular samurai, forged in honor, succumb so easily to base carnality?
This was no act of a warrior!
How could the illustrious General Yagyu, a towering figure of Yamato's might, allow a crude, barbaric black slave to trample his dignity, pin him down, and subject him to relentless humiliation?
It was a disgrace to the samurai's creed!
He, a proud warrior of Yamato, bearer of supreme honor, could not--would not--yield to such vile, lustful reactions to a man's filthy, reeking organ.
Impossible! Unacceptable!
"Next up," Zulu's voice slithered into his ear, dripping with wicked magnetism, an irresistible lure from the depths of hell, "a glans massage."
The words hung in the air, a seductive promise that threatened to unravel Takeo's last threads of resistance.
At that moment, a formidable, ebony cock--thick and commanding--sprang to life like a bamboo shoot bursting from the earth, standing proud between Takeo's thighs. It loomed in stark contrast to his own, a vivid tableau of dominance. Compared to Zulu's massive, untamed rod, pulsing with raw, bestial power, Takeo's own seemed feeble, almost juvenile--small and pitiful in its shadow.
The jarring visual, coupled with a crushing wave of inferiority and humiliation, battered Takeo's fragile defenses. His resolve faltered, the facade of stoic pride crumbling. Clinging to the last vestiges of his samurai honor, he propped up his weakened, trembling frame, his voice a hollow growl. "Insolent! You dare! disrespect me like this--ngh!"
His words dissolved into a shattered moan, drowned by a sudden surge of tingling pleasure that consumed him utterly.
Before he could finish, Zulu's imposing shaft pressed ruthlessly against Takeo's lesser rod. The overwhelming pressure and the stark disparity in size plunged Takeo into a chasm of unprecedented shame and inadequacy.
How could such a colossal cock exist in this world?
It was like the organ of a mythic demon god, inspiring both awe and dread.
Takeo's eyes flickered, unable to meet the oppressive presence of the massive cock before him. His masculine pride and samurai honor, once unyielding, shattered in that moment, reduced to nothing. Zulu, heedless of his feeble resistance, pressed forward with his so-called "glans massage."
He guided his swollen, rigid tip to Takeo's sensual, tightly sealed lips, probing gently as if testing his resolve. When Takeo clenched his jaw, cheeks flushing crimson, Zulu shifted his aim, dragging the slick head to the general's inflamed, tender nipples. There, he teased and rubbed, toying with the sensitive peaks with deliberate, tormenting slowness.
Remarkably, after a month of Zulu's relentless, depraved conditioning, Takeo's once-shy, tightly guarded rear had transformed. Now, at the mere provocation of Zulu's colossal glans, it parted eagerly, like a ravenous beast opening its maw, fervently inviting invasion and possession.
Takeo himself was baffled, unable to comprehend why his chiseled, muscular body craved such brutal violation with such familiarity and hunger. Within, fear and desire clashed like twin torrents, tearing at his soul with agonizing ferocity.
"No! stop! I'll! I'll cut your head off myself! You filthy! savage black swine! Release me! now! Ohhh! ngh, ohhh!"
Takeo's incoherent roars and pleas spilled forth, but their empty threats stood in stark, mocking contrast to his body's traitorous surrender, quivering with uncontrollable pleasure.
General Yagyu, bearer of a samurai's soul, crumbled entirely as Zulu's thick, ebony shaft once again breached his thoroughly claimed, sensitive rear. Overwhelmed, he could no longer resist the relentless intrusion.
His eyes rolled back, whites starkly exposed, as broken moans spilled from his lips. His tongue lolled helplessly, and amid the ceaseless, sharp slaps of flesh against flesh, his face twisted into a shameless, degraded mask of submission, stripped of all dignity.
"Ohhh! So fucking good! ngh! How! how could I! ohh! So big! that massive cock!"
Takeo's incoherent, lascivious babble betrayed him, his samurai pride and restraint utterly forsaken, drowned in the abyss of carnal ecstasy.
His guards, dismissed earlier by Takeo himself, were nowhere near. In nearby tents, those who faintly caught the lewd moans and rhythmic thuds of flesh merely assumed some soldier had summoned a male courtesan for pleasure. They shook their heads, dismissing it as trivial, never imagining that the wanton, moaning figure could be their stern, imposing General Yagyu.
"Filthy slut! Is this the spirit of bushido--wallowing in such depraved filth?!"
Zulu's roar thundered in Takeo's ears, each word a venom-laced dagger slicing into his fragile pride, relentlessly humiliating the body beneath him, now wholly surrendered to desire.
"I'm gonna wreck that slutty ass of yours! Get your face over here--against my mouth!"
Zulu's command rang with unyielding dominance, brooking no defiance.
"No! no, we can't! can't kiss!"
Takeo's instinctive refusal flickered, a faint ember of pride and resistance still smoldering within. But before he could finish, Zulu's intensified thrusts obliterated his words, reducing them to fractured moans.
"Mmph! mm--slurp, tch!"
Ignoring Takeo's protests, Zulu seized his lips with savage hunger, unleashing a wild, fervent kiss. His hot, slick tongue, like a coiling python, forced open Takeo's clenched jaw, plunging deep to claim every inch, greedily devouring the general's saliva with lewd, wet sounds that echoed obscenely.
The bed creaked and swayed under their frenzied movements, groaning beneath the strain. Zulu, channeling every ounce of his strength, pounded relentlessly, like a conqueror breaching a fortress, finally shattering the last bastion of Takeo's inner defenses.
Caught in the twin torrents of ecstasy and shame, Takeo surrendered completely. His lips parted, eagerly meeting Zulu's feral kiss, their tongues entwining in a desperate, inseparable dance.
Instinctively, he wrapped his arms around Zulu's thick, sinewy neck, mirroring the countless fevered dreams of the past month. In a flash, like lightning splitting the dark, a torrent of realizations flooded Takeo's mind. He understood at last: from the very beginning, he was destined to become this black-skinned barbarian's plaything, a vessel for his insatiable lust, to be used and ravaged at will.