He slapped my ass. “Robot, walk.”I walked my body back into the kitchen, and over to the counter, where I put the tray down. I heard a click, and ...iscovered I couldn’t pick my arms up, nor remove them from the tubes under the tray.Tom came into the kitchen. “Remember, your body is a robot. It must respond to each command, or my friends will know you’re a real person. Then they’ll wonder who you are, and I may have to tell them.”“Yes, sir, I’ll be good,” I said, sheepishly.“Also, remember that. "How could they not see this?" I asked myself, again and again.To them, they continued to see only his pure and overwhelming masculinity, his massive black cock, and his aura of dominance over us weaker white men. It hit me that they were, in their own minds, seeing a "real" man. A black man. And, this seemed to be the cause of them "fawning" all over him like school girls, and obediently listening to words and commands.It was clear that all us white men feel helpless, humiliated and. More

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