Jamal grunted loudly, with proud groans as he savagely wrecked Gladion’s little hole, as his huge black cock sloshed amid the sloppy cum inside, as he pounded balls-deep into his slave, he made Tarzan-like shouts of triumph.

“Who’s yo’ muhfucking’ Daddy?” Jamal screamed.
“I-inspector J-Jamal!” Gladion sobbed.
“Who run da world?”
“Black k-kings!”

A strange and terrible quaking overtook Gladion. It emanated from the deepest parts of him. It might have been the angle, or the rhythm, or merely the ganjala, but Jamal’s violent thrusts gave him waves of intense pleasure. “Holy fuck” Gladion thought to himself. “He’s hitting my prostate.”

Jamal dominated Gladion completely. He fucked his little cum-filled ass brutally, his muscular frame holding him against the forest floor. The electric sweat dripped from the black king’s torso. Gladion held onto the sea of ripping muscles, riding the unbridled black power. Each time the black king bottomed out, a tingle snaked up into Gladion’s little pink cock.

“It’s over for ya’ll bitches. Ya’ll on da way out. Extinct,” Jamal growled into Gladion’s ear as he neared his completion. The guards, exhausted from their orgasms, looked on as though they were witnessing a sacred ritual. Jamal grunted, angry and vengeful, his hot breath on his sissy captive’s ear. And in-between the cruel taunts, he kissed Gladion with dominating, aggressive, open-mouthed smooches, — his long tongue probing the mouth of the helpless little whiteboi.