Master Shango Owns You! - excerpt

Enjoy this excerpt . . .

Jon Beckett had no idea of the rude awakening he would receive when he returned home from work that evening at 06:27 p.m. He had no fathomable thought that the day would significantly change his marriage like never before. Might there have been some preventive ways he could have avoided the activities of that night? Probably. Yes, likely so. Except we’re not going to dwell on what could have been, only what is, which is why this story is being told.

He parked his car in his driveway, got out, and inhaled deeply like that was his way to welcome himself home officially. There were vehicles parked in front of his home, but they could have belonged to any of his neighbors. Jon was unbothered by them as he shut his car door and covered the short distance between his driveway and his front door. He let himself inside and was instantly aware of the surprise awaiting him.

Jon’s keys nearly slipped from his hand as the smile on his face was immediately replaced with fear as he saw the uninvited visitor lounging in his living room. The black man held a TV remote and was flipping through channels when Jon entered his home. Jon knew the man’s reputation and was bothered about encountering him in his home at this hour.

“Shut the door, white boy,” the black man known as Shango demanded. “Then bring your ass on over here, pronto. I’ve been waiting on you for almost an hour now.”

Jon shut the door and took off his jacket before approaching.

“I wasn’t . . . You never told me you’d be coming to my home.”

“Sure, I did, white boy. What I didn’t do was tell you when. I’m here for my money, white boy.”

“Your money?”

“Don’t act like you don’t know what I’m talking about, and quit stuttering like you’re dumb. I’m here for the dough that’s owed to me by you.” Shango dropped the remote and stood up. “Last time we talked, you said you’d have something for me by month’s end. It’s the final week of the month, white boy. So, out with it.”

“I don’t . . . I don’t have the money on me, sir.”

“That isn’t what I want to hear, white boy.”

“I mean, I had the money but had other outstanding problems I needed to settle first. You know how it is.”

“Yeah, I figured you wouldn’t have it on you. You’d have put it in my hand by now if you did, which is why I came by. Good thing your charming wife was gracious enough to let me in.”

Jon’s eyes flew open with alarm. Had he forgotten his wife all this time?

“Daisy. What have you . . . she knows nothing about this,” he said with abject fright in his voice. Shango busted into laughter.

“Too late, white boy. She didn’t know then, but the bitch knows now and more. Don’t believe me? Head on upstairs and talk with her about it. Go on, I’ll wait.”

Shango returned to the chair and picked up the remote again, leaving Jon speechless and dumbfounded as he stood there, lost as to how to respond. Then he dashed out of the living room and made for the stairs.

His heart was pounding in his chest as he scrambled toward the main bedroom. Jon got to the top landing and looked down the corridor leading to his bedroom door; it felt like a mile long as he rushed toward it. He didn’t realize it then, but he was blubbering even before he got to the door and opened it.

Daisy was sandwiched between the two black men: one was fucking her from behind while pulling back her hair . . .

Jon expected to find his wife lying in bed, teary-eyed from the expectant news Shango must have revealed to her before he arrived. 

Such wasn’t the case. 

Daisy was in bed, but she wasn’t alone. 

Two other black men were with her, naked and cojoined in coitus. It took seconds for Jon to adjust to what he was witnessing. Daisy was sandwiched between the two black men: one was fucking her from behind while pulling back her hair, while the other lay underneath, sucking on her tits while she moaned and whimpered.

“Oh my God!” Jon gasped.

“God ain’t got nothing to do with it, white boy,” Shango laughed as he came to join him with a beer he had gotten out of Jon’s fridge, taking pleasure in Jon’s miserable state. “It took a while for Daisy to come around, but I’ve been working on her two days since. She finally gave up the pussy and the ass this time. Her holes were tight initially, but she learned to loosen up within minutes.”

Shango threw back his head and bellowed like he had uttered the funniest line ever. Jon looked at him with a mixture of hatred and anger. He had top-notch rein on his emotions, knowing he could not redress his current predicament. Shango wouldn’t waste a hare’s breath to stomp him to a pulp in his home. Nobody would hear him scream, not even his neighbors; nobody would come to his aid. Jon didn’t have the fighting spirit and considered himself a blatant coward to Shango’s dominance. He had no choice but to plead for some form of mercy.

“But why the fuck why? I told you I was going get the money by month’s end.”

“So you said before, except you haven’t got it on you now, have you, white boy? Besides, you’ve got yourself a gorgeous-ass wife. Would you think I’d stand back and not take notice? I own you just as I own her, and she’s going to become my latest whore the same as you. And there’s nothing you will talk or do that going to change that.”

“Please, sir, I beg you,” Jon fell to his knees and even attempted to kiss Shango’s feet, but Shango kicked him aside. Tears streamed down his cheeks as he continued to whine. “Please, Shango. Daisy doesn’t deserve none of this.”

“That’s Master Shango to you, white boy. And as you can see, it’s too late to grovel—your wife is now my bitch. Now get up and let’s return downstairs.”

Shango turned and left the room. 

Jon dejectedly returned to his feet and looked at Daisy, who was still getting pleasured by Shango’s friends. Daisy was lost to her sex and was barely aware of Jon’s presence.

“Go ahead and shut the door, pussy boy!” One of Shango’s cohort barked at him.

Jon did as told and walked with heavy footsteps away from his bedroom.

Shango was back in his previous chair, waiting for him. Jon fought to control himself as he shuffled down the stairs but felt close to breaking down. Shango got so irritated by his blubbering that he shot off the chair and slapped Jon hard.

“Quit your crying, white boy,” he snapped. “Fucking dry your eyes up now, I don’t want to hear or see none of that. You’re my slave, so you’d best heed my words and do as you’re told. Comprende?”

Jon sniffled several times, fished his handkerchief from his pocket and dried his face. Seeing Shango glare at him enticed him to control his impulses.

“I’ve got some good people arriving in the city tomorrow, and I’m going to need you and your whore-bitch upstairs to do what you’re good at doing. Daisy’s going be on the clock just like you; she might even be a hard earner than your lazy ass is. Go on into the fridge and fetch me another beer.”

Jon accepted the empty can Master Shango gave him and deposited it in the kitchen’s trash bin. He grabbed another from the fridge and returned with it. Shango accepted the beer and returned to his chair, unbothered by Jon’s crestfallen outlook. Jon accepted his humiliation and continued wiping his eyes as he sat silently across from his benefactor.

They sat in silence for a long time until the sound of footsteps pulled Jon out of his stupor. He turned to see Daisy and Shango’s cohorts murmuring as they came to join them; the men were in their clothes while Daisy wore herself a nightdress. She passed Jon to come and hug Shango. She looked like she had had a most satisfying evening.

“You’re looking different from the last I saw you,” said Shango. “I’m guessing you had a fun workout?”

“I sure as fuck did, Master,” Daisy answered. “Your friends gave me quite a run.”

“Good. You’ve seen your white boy?” he indicated at Jon. “He caught a bit of your performance.”

Daisy half-turned to glance at Jon before returning her attention to Shango.  “Yeah, I saw him,” she turned back to Jon and sneered: “Welcome home, pussy boy.”

That elicited laughter from Shango and his friends. Jon felt like he was drowning in a sea of humiliation and wished for the earth to open and swallow him whole.

“I’d give you one final fuck for the day, except I’ve got other bitches waiting on me right now,” Shango continued. “I’ll be in touch with you tomorrow. Keep your pussy clean till then.”

“I will, darling,” Daisy gave Shango a parting kiss and waved goodbye to his friends as they left the house.

Daisy turned to me after she had shut the door. “We’ve got a lot to talk about,” she said.

“I agree,” Jon replied. “Let me go shower first.”

“Yeah, you go and do that.”

Jon picked up his jacket from where he had left it and went up the stairs, sullen and disgusted with himself, while Daisy went to the kitchen.

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This is an excerpt from MASTER SHANGO OWNS YOU! my recent book that came out this month.