Race Play: Fuck Tha Police

     Pulling my hair, forcefully drawing my ear closer to his mouth, “Who the fuck do you think they’re gonna believe, huh?”  His snarl reeked of brandy, “Me, a decorated officer or a fucking nigger?”  On instinct, I spit a cocktail of saliva and brandy into his face.  Laughing as he wiped his face, “You done fucked up now!”
     In a single motion, my face was thrown into the pillows and my arms were twisted behind my back.  Handcuffs were locked around my wrists.  Pulling my pants and underwear off, he slaps my ass, “You like this boy?”  Spitting on my asshole, he quickly jabs his fingers into me, “Yeah, I knew you’d like this.”
     No warm up.  Only lubed with spit.  A jolt shot up my spine as he jammed his cock up my ass.  Trying to stand upright, I was forced to bow again.  My attempts to resist by twisting my hips were unsuccessful.  His hands griped my hips mercilessly, in between pants he whispered over my back, “I knew you were one of those black faggots.  Take this white cock, boy.”

This is the first time I’ve ever participated in rape or race play.

     Turning me over, a white flash filled the room as his palm slapped across my face.  Pumping.  Grunting.  Slapping.  I couldn’t believe what was happening; I was helpless.  Drunken on Brandy, this felt so real.  We were channeling some real issues.  I’m not sure how many black men are actually raped, but historically thousands were violated in other ways.  Just a couple weeks prior, Oscar Grant’s killer was just found not guilty of murder…and we’re incorporating this into our bedroom?
     Admittedly, I was aroused.  Watching him simultaneously curse and worship my black cock also channeled some real sociological energies.  Spitting on it and pumping his fists, he hated that I was born with this.  He hates the privilege it possesses.  The power it had over him, even when its secured in my low hanging pants. 
     I found myself on the floor with a dildo still lodged in my ass.  My arms: bound.  My orgasm: pending.  Left alone, I had time to think about things.  How fetish can be used as a coping device and how this relates to race relations.
     I recently wrote a guest spot for ka|os-theory, "Fetish For My Fathers' Curse" about a retreat where black and white men stage a homoerotic recreation of American slavery.  At that time, the erotic aspect did not translate to me.  I think I am closer to understanding it now.  For me, it felt like an acknowledgment.  The hatred and jealousies were all incorporated in our play.  To have those things said and done to me struck a true and ugly chord within me, but with my sexuality involved, I was able to reassign the energy.  I was able to spit and scream and kick while enjoying the stimulation, the result was cathartic.

     The above images are from Justin Monroe's phenomenal set "Interrogation"!  Very few artists are willing to makes polished images of grotesque symbols; I honor his bravery!
     I have been a longtime fan of this particular spread and I'm glad to have lived an experience which warrants me to use it for this blog.  Authority.  Brutality.  Beauty.  Only here!

For the EXPLICIT remainder of this set:

No comments:



Related Posts with Thumbnails