Summary: Proud black woman is dominated by younger racist employee.

Note 1: This is dedicated to the real Shauna who this happened to... although I have tamed it down... believe it or not! It is also dedicated to the real Ms. Shelly.

Note 2: WARNING

This story is a story about racial domination. If this offends you please stop reading. Also note, this is a lesbian story, but because of the intensity of the race relations I choose interracial over lesbian.

This story includes very generous use of the 'N' word, used disparagingly. If this offends you please stop reading.

This story is a tale of a proud black woman's fall into the world of submission to a younger, pretentious, pretty, bigoted white girl. If this offends you please stop reading.

The majority of my race stories are about a dominant black girl/woman seducing a white girl/woman, but for the second or third time I am writing a story the other way around. Like my lengthy 'Deconstructing the Professor', this story was requested by a black woman who gets turned on by being dominated by a white woman (just like my own fantasy is to be dominated by a black girl/woman) and thus uses racial terms that are historical and politically incorrect. Again, if this offends you please stop reading.

On the other hand, if you are turned on by race.... Please enjoy.

Thanks to Tex Beethoven, Robert, Scott, and Wayne for editing.

*

I was working my ass off to get my law degree... but since I didn't come from a privileged white family like most of my classmates, and my scholarship helped, but wasn't a full ride, I had to work part time. Usually weekends with the odd daytime shift.

Although I had only worked for the chain for a few months, I was promoted to shift manager of a restaurant because of my hard work ethic, loyalty and skill at schmoozing... sorry, being diplomatic with... the patrons.

So I was new to this location, but had experience at two other ones, and I was in training for upper management. I'll avoid telling you the name of the chain (although it was one that had mostly white upper middle class appeal, so most of the employees and managers tended to be white).

So I was pleasantly surprised to learn that the senior manager who would be training me was also black. I'm not racist, okay yes I am, but I'd much rather work under a black person than a white... for many reasons.

Janette and I got along great; she was a strong black woman who didn't take crap from anyone, especially her prima donna white teen employees, and showed me how to work with the largely white, entitled teenage staff. She stressed over and over again that in order to be a good boss you had to work twice as hard as any of your staff... and that wasn't a race thing; that was good policy no matter who you were. And she wasn't just spouting off. It took roughly two and a half hours of my seeing her in action to earn my total respect!

Early on Janette quietly described most of our staff to me as 'little Princesses' who resisted hard work, which made me laugh, although it turned out to be very true. The first month I seemed to spend a lot of my time trying to get these girls to do their jobs, be polite to our patrons and clean up their work areas properly.

And although none of the teens disrespected me in any real way, it was obvious this was not a job they really cared about and likely didn't need the money... and saw me as nothing more than a bossy old bitch... even though I was only four to six years older than they were.

During training, which I took in the summer while I was not in school, I had worked Monday to Friday and thus had the better employees to work with for the most part (some of them having worked there for years and having respect for the company because the company treated their proven employees well).

As school started in the fall, I moved to the weekend shifts and rubbed shoulders with the least motivated employees we had. It was a lot more work, a lot more babysitting and a far higher percentage of pretentious teens who had never needed to work for a thing... which really pissed me off as I had worked solidly since I was ten to make money for my family or for my future.

It was during this time that my life began to change... because it was when I met Shelly... the most diva-like princess of all the employees. She was your stereotypical blue eyed, blonde haired, pretty, haughty bitch. She had a tight ass and firm high boobs that only someone young can have. She was just eighteen and her daddy was making her get a job to learn what it meant to work... although I'm not sure she ever would learn that nose-to-the-grindstone ethic.

At first she also fit the dumb blonde stereotype, seeming to be a complete airhead, yet I quickly learned she only played dumb around the boys to trick them into doing most of her work.

It was pretty clear after just a couple of shifts that not only was she entitled, she was racist and thought she was better than me. This, of course, had me in a secret rage, as I'd grown up in the South where I was treated that way a lot... and I was the first woman in my family who hadn't ended up being a maid... I was the first one to graduate high school... the first one (obviously) to go to college... and one day soon I would be the first lawyer to pass the bar. Just imagine -- that uppity black bitch calling herself Esquire! LOL! I could hardly wait!

Now I had been treated a lot worse back home: I had been called every racist taunt you can think of, and many that would never occur to you unless you really put your heart into it; I had been bullied and beat up... so glares and snotty comments under her breath weren't going to faze me.

Yet we butted heads over pretty much every direction I gave her, as she always smirked and scoffed at my 'so-called' experience.

I likely made things worse as I was a very aggressive woman at the time. I felt that in a white world, I needed to be strong and no nonsense... so I was firm and fair... yet unrelenting. I chose my battles, but once engaged I didn't back down.

That said, I would be lying if I said I didn't enjoy making whites do my bidding for me. It was a nice role reversal to be the one in charge. Yes I had attitude, but I had earned it in the school of hard knocks.

At the time I even had a white boyfriend... well more of a white hanger-on I used for sex. He was obsessed with my big tits and even bigger ass and was at my beck and call whenever I needed my cunt munched or a quick fuck.

I was finally getting ahead in this racist world...before it suddenly began to crumble around me.

Shelly's disrespect escalated quickly one afternoon when I saw her in the back room eating, while one of the black boys who worked there (there were only two) was massaging her pantyhose clad feet (every girl had to wear a plaid skirt, white blouse and mocha pantyhose to work). She was arranging the universe for her own comfort instead of cleaning the floor like she was supposed to.

Was the company sexist?

Yes.

Did that help with sales?

Yes.

As a manager I too had a uniform although it was a little less slutty than the staff's. It was a black blouse, black skirt (longer than the employees') and black pantyhose.

Anyway, I blew up at her. "What the hell are you doing?"

"Eating," she replied laconically, snapping her fingers at Jerome who was actually supposed to be on break and had quit massaging her feet... briefly, before she snapped him back to it.

"You know what I mean," I roared, furious and more than a little over the top.

"Mike is doing the floors for me," she explained, as if I should have been smart enough to know that but obviously wasn't.

"Mike is supposed to be on the till," I informed her, before adding, "Jerome, please leave Shelly and me alone for a couple of minutes."

Shelly asked me, as Jerome obeyed, scurrying out of there, "Does that mean you're going to massage my feet now?"

"Excuse me?" I questioned, stunned by her pretentiousness.

"Do I need to speak more slowly? Use shorter words?" she asked, with such a smirk that I instantly wanted to slap her smug face. Before I could respond, she added the one word no white person, especially an entitled bitch like her, should ever utter, "Nigger?"

I stopped dead in my tracks. Completely stunned she had used the 'N' word. It hadn't been loud enough for anyone else to hear, especially over the noise from the kitchen, but she had definitely said it, and definitely had intended me to hear it.

I sputtered, even as she looked at me smugly, lifting her foot up towards me, "I-I-I'm going to write you up!" I then stormed out before I could say anything else that could get me in trouble. Another principle Janette had schooled me in was never to speak when you're too angry to think straight. Teeth clenched, I was outta there!

Usually I would rip her a new one right then and there... yet thanks to Janette's wisdom, I didn't.

All night I replayed the conversation, wondering why I didn't do something right then and there. Why I had allowed her to think she'd won. Frustrated, I called my white boy toy and had him eat my cunt... then sent him home without sex... yeah, I could be a bitch too.

That was Saturday night.

On Sunday afternoon, as Janette came in to do weekly inventory, I told her what happened... still fuming a full day later.

I wanted her fired, but Janette calmed me down, saying that there will always be the odd employee or customer who had racist parents and hadn't yet grown up... it was our job to help teach tolerance. I sighed; I'd been teaching tolerance my whole life, or turning the other cheek, and yet society didn't seem any less racist... it was just hidden better... I suppose.

I agreed that was true, but we couldn't be having that kind of disrespect and language in our building.

Janette promised she would deal with Shelly before my next Friday shift in two weeks. (The following weekend I was attending a course the company was having me take... ironically, anger management.) Then she began teaching me the last task of a manager: inventory.

Because I respected Janette so much, because she was such a role model for me as a black woman who had overcome poverty and racism to have a successful career, I let it go... mostly. There weren't any challenges I was facing now that she hadn't already overcome. Like I said, she was a class act.

That said, I was a little surprised she didn't seem as angry as I was, but figured she would bring this little princess into line... and perhaps she had developed some tools from experience in dealing with such behaviour in the past. Plus, I needed to be able to control my anger in such scenarios. Maybe the upcoming course would give me some pointers.

The next Sunday night, I was driving home from the course I was taking a couple hours away and decided to stop in the restaurant a couple of minutes after closing to offer to help Janette with inventory and share with her a couple of exciting ideas I had learned. I also thought I'd show my eagerness and friendship to her and get brownie points for enthusiasm.

I used my key to get into the locked building, and due to the noise of the large walk in refrigerators in the back, nobody heard me.

As I got close to the office, I heard voices. One of them was Shelly. I knew I shouldn't eavesdrop, but I assumed Janette was either reading Shelly the riot act or firing her.

So I stopped and listened.

"Your new girl isn't getting the picture," Shelly said to her boss, "but she is like you."

I didn't understand this. Was Shelly talking about me?

Before I had time to consider the answers to my own questions, my shock and confusion doubled as I barely heard Janette's muffled voice, "Sorry, Ms. Shelly."

I couldn't fathom why she would be apologizing or calling this over-entitled white prima donna 'Ms. Shelly'.

Yet, wanting to see Shelly justly punished, I walked around the corner and to the partly open door... where I was totally stunned.

My mind went blank.

And although what I was suddenly witnessing was obvious, I was too stunned to recognize or understand what I was seeing at first.

In truth, it wasn't until I replayed the entire set of surreal events at home later that night that I clearly understood the role reversal that I was witnessing.

Shelly was sitting on top of Janette's desk comfortably, her nylon-clad feet dangling over the desk with her usual superior smirk as she gazed down at my boss and hers... Janette.

Adding shock compounded on shock, Janette was on her knees, topless, and also bottomless except for her black pantyhose, sucking on the teen's toes through her nylons.

Janette had her back to me, so she had no idea I was watching, but Shelly looked up and saw me. For a brief moment she looked worried, but only for a nanosecond, before her smirk returned when I didn't move or say anything.

Ever since that night I've sometimes wondered how things might have turned out for me and perhaps even for Janette if at that moment I would have said something, done something, asserted myself.

Yet, I remained paralyzed in shock and confusion, unable to tear my eyes away from this act of dominance... as if I were watching a car accident and knew I should look away... yet couldn't no matter how hard I tried.

Shelly then smiled at me as she switched from one foot to another, and placed her pink painted toenails in our boss's mouth. I watched as Janette wordlessly obeyed as she licked and sucked on the teen's nylon-covered toes. Shelly then ordered, "Hands behind your back nigger; push those udders out for me."

I was still silent as I watched my wise and sophisticated role model obey instantly, all while she kept Shelly's toes in her mouth. She moved her hands behind her back, and her back straightened as she thrust her chest out for Shelly... her massive tits swaying bovinely from side to side.

It was then I realized two very confusing things:

1. My black boss was a submissive to a white teen princess who controlled her.

2. My panties were soaked and my nipples were hard and poking through my top (since I hadn't worn a bra for the two hour drive home, just letting my titties breathe free).

Shelly rested her other foot on Janette's outthrust tits as she continued to stare at me... as if daring me to say anything. But I was utterly paralyzed with shock and confusion and remained speechless.

Then, when I didn't say or do anything, I only empowered the teen princess even more as she continued to stare into my eyes, as if she were hypnotizing me, "I think your new nigger manager is as much a submissive slut as you are, bitch... I bet she'd love to be on her knees sucking my other toes...what do you think?"

Here was Janette's chance to stand up for me, yet her answer did the opposite. "Yes, Ms. Shelly, I'm sure she would love to be another nigger slut for you."

I couldn't believe that Janette had used the 'N' word and worse yet, to describe me.

Shelly was staring right at me the entire time with a confidence I couldn't fathom an eighteen-year-old having. Worse yet, as I watched and listened I couldn't help but feel my knees get weak... I had never thought of being a lesbian submissive before that moment...always being dominant in my relationships even though I was straight, and facing the challenge of intimidating macho men, loving the power I had over these men... especially white men... yet, at the moment I could feel myself being sucked in by this white entitled teenager.

Suddenly terrified at my own weakness, I quickly scurried out of there before 'Ms.' Shelly could push the envelope any further.

As soon as I got home, I collapsed on my bed and fingered myself to multiple orgasms as I replayed the surreal scene I had just witnessed... although my mind betrayed me like my body had back at the restaurant... I got off by imagining it was me on my knees and not Janette.

Once I recovered from my intense orgasms, I lay in bed wondering what the hell? Why had that turned me on? Why didn't I say anything? Why didn't I protect Janette from such a bitch? Why hadn't I bounded forward and cried something like, "I'll save ya from this white uppity bitch!"

Fuck!

Fuck!

Fuck!

During the next week of school I tried desperately to exorcize what I had witnessed on Sunday... but every night no matter how hard I tried to ignore it, it replayed in my memory, and my pussy dripped like a faucet.

Twice I even called in my white booty call to fuck... where I was in total control. Yet, both times as I climaxed bouncing on his cock it was Shelly's smug face that popped into my head, providing the trigger for my orgasm.

This frustrated me.

This pissed me off.

How was this prima donna bitch getting into my head?

Why?

Why wasn't I able to push her away?

So I was quite nervous when I returned to work... and yet determined to maintain my decorum even as I was still angry and confused (and excited, damn it) by Shelly's and Janette's upside down interaction.

Not surprisingly, my shift the following Friday evening was awkward. I relieved Janette, so we only had about twenty minutes together, but Janette didn't mention anything and acted exactly the same as always... which I assumed meant Shelly hadn't told her that I'd witnessed her humiliation.

Shelly walked up to me at the register and whispered, "Did you enjoy the show?"

I shook my head and said firmly but sotto voce, "This isn't the place."

"Oh, I know exactly the place you would like to be, my soon-to-be nigger pet," she purred in my ear, before walking away, leaving me again stunned... her intention proclaimed... my cunt inexplicably gushing into my panties, even as I fumed in anger and frustration. She walked into the lobby where I couldn't confront her and deal with this right then and there. I also was confused by why my panties were so damp.

Once her shift was over and she left for home, I was furious at myself for not doing something when I'd first witnessed her treatment of Janette, and just now when she'd continued that treatment towards me. I am a strong-willed, determined black woman. I am a feminist. I am trying to end decades and centuries of a family history of being subjected to a social hierarchy where we were maids and servants and even fucking slaves... often literally... for rich whites. No way could I allow myself to end up in a situation like Janette's.

Yet, that night I ended up again masturbating, and again Shelly's arrogant smile popped into my head and sneered at me just as I climaxed.

Once I came, I scolded myself for my fixation on her and my subconscious that seemed to be playing tricks on me. I needed to break the chain of submission... not continue it. 'Black Power' wasn't just a slogan, it was who I was!

Saturday, Shelly wasn't working and in spite of my itching for a fight, I was ashamed to realize that I was relieved.

Sunday, Shelly's shift overlapped with mine and as I was leaving, Janette arriving for Sunday inventory, Shelly whispered, "Are you staying to watch again tonight?"

"What you did was horrible," I said accusingly.

"Was it?" she asked with her usual smug smile. "I just gave her what she wanted, which is the same thing you want."

"And what is that?" I asked, not shutting her down instantly like I should have.

"To serve white cunt," she bluntly smirked, before again walking away leaving me angry, frustrated and horny. Once she was gone I wondered, 'Did Janette do more than just lick her feet? Did she go down on her?' Based on Shelly's insolent words, likely so.

That night at home, I again ended up having multiple orgasms, this time including visions of me licking Shelly's pussy... something I had done with a girl only once... in a hotel with a friend of mine when we ended up tipsy and in a 69. I had actually enjoyed licking her pussy and loved hearing her moans, but had resisted the temptation of lesbian sex since... instead mostly fucking white boys, although I had a black friend with benefits I had on call for when I needed some black cock. Sex was good, but it wasn't personal. I would be wise to remember that.
This cycle continued over the next few weeks. Each time I was angry at first, horny later and finally frustrated at my own weakness.

A cycle I was determined to break every time and yet every time I found myself in my own surreal experience of a racist version of the movie Groundhog Day.

WEEK 2:

"I missed you watching on Sunday, your nigger boss could use some help," she whispered.

I just ignored her.

Later that night when another of my employees was kissing my ass (sucking up to me, not literally doing anything anal), she whispered, "Soon you'll be kissing my ass."

I stressed the word 'never' as I replied, "I promise you I'll never kiss your ass."

She shrugged, "Never say never, nigger."

"Never, never, never," I repeated.

She laughed, "Denial looks cute on you," and then she walked away.

Oddly, I couldn't help but check out her ass... noticing how tight her ass was... unlike my big ass booty (which I was proud of).

Week 3:

"It's only a matter of time before you're on your knees serving me too, nigger," she promised.

I scoffed.

"Janette scoffed too," she responded, before adding, "and now she's my complete bimbo nigger slave."

"Just get to work," I ordered, my cunt sopping wet.

"You will have a new job soon, you naive nigger," she said, again leaving me with conflicting emotions.

Week 4:

She seemed to be able to know exactly how to slyly break me down.

Whispers of things she expected from me. Calling me a nigger. I had given her all the power by doing nothing that first time and she knew it... and she used it.... she also seemed to know it turned me on as she taunted me with the racial epithet every chance she got.

"Coming in for some white cunt on Sunday?" she asked.

"Leave me out of this game," I said.

"I know you go home and fuck yourself thinking of me," Shelly said... correctly.

I could feel my face getting flushed, thankful I was so dark. I scoffed and sarcastically retorted, "Yes, all I do is go home and think of you."

"Good nigger. Acceptance is the first step," she quipped, sounding like a Chinese fortune cookie before again sauntering away... her tight ass swaying like a hypnotist's watch. She turned around and saw me staring at her ass which made me quickly look away... feeling like a pervert ashamed of being caught.

I shook my head as I tried to focus on work.

She pushed my buttons even more often that day, as I couldn't find her when she was supposed to be hostessing... but Amy was covering for her instead. I walked into the break room and discovered her on her cell phone while Jerome was again massaging her feet.

I sighed and asked, perturbed, "Are you serious?"

"What?" Shelly asked, "My feet are sore from working all day and Jerome was generous enough to help out. He at least knows how to take care of your employees."

The image of Janette on her knees sucking on her toes popped into my head. I tried to remain focused, even as I imagined it was me massaging her cute small feet... so much daintier than my large feet (my worst asset).

Jerome looked at me, expecting me to make him stop, but I said instead, "Fine; once he's done I expect you back at your station."

"Of course, boss," she smiled, knowing she had won once again.

I walked out, feeling out-manipulated again, yet unable to stand up to her... finally beginning to understand why my ancestors could never break free of their own slavery chains... I realized then and there that I was becoming a mental slave to her and if I didn't fight back soon I would become her slave in every imaginable fashion.

Thankfully, my shift was over before hers and I headed home, having no idea how long she had enjoyed her massage or whether she had ever gone back to her duty station.

On Sunday Shelly wasn't working, but came in with friends to eat. She walked over to me and said conspiratorially, as if we were friends, "Tonight I'm going to have Janette lick my cunt and asshole until I come all over her nigger face. Wanna watch?"

"I'm not playing this game with you, Shelly," I said dismissively.

"Look over at my table. There are two more ripe cunts for you to munch on, and one big nine inch white cock to ream that roomy nigger asshole of yours," she said, before again sauntering away, as again I watched her tight ass, showcased perfectly in a tight pair of jeans.

Again she turned around and saw me staring.

Again I quickly turned away.

Again my cunt leaked into my panties.

Week 5:

Shelly didn't work on Friday night and I was surprised by how disappointed I felt.

She was back on Saturday though, and came into the freezer where I was organizing vegetables. I had a cucumber in my hand when she said, "Do you like being fucked by that vegetable like your nigger boss does?"

"Excuse me?" I asked blankly, not catching on to her meaning but still startled by her insolence.

"The cucumber, dummy! I know all you niggers are veggie fuckers," she said.

"That is fucking enough," I said, annoyed by her rude accusations against my entire race... knowing I had to stand up to her, and right now!

"That is what your nigger boss said when I shoved a cucumber up her ass while I fisted her fat cunt," Shelly said bluntly.

"Out," I ordered.

"Stop pretending you're not just like your nigger boss," she said, moving to leave. "You know you want to be worshipping my feet, munching my cunt and getting fisted by your beautiful white superior."

"Now!" I demanded.

"You want me to do you now?" she asked innocently.

"Get out now!" I demanded.

"It's inevitable, nigger," she said, before sauntering out, not remotely intimidated.

On Sunday she asked, as I was in the office doing some paperwork, "Hungry?"

"What?" I asked.

She moved around my desk and shoved a baby carrot in my open mouth and said, "That's been marinating in my white cunt all day just for you, nigger."

I could taste the wetness on the carrot... a taste that was sweet... a taste that was her.

I went to spit it out and she ordered, "Don't you fucking dare, nigger. Never reject a gift from me. Now chew it and swallow it like a good nigger slave."

And although I was humiliated... I obeyed... her tone somehow making me obedient... the term 'slave' one more kick in the gut that nevertheless turned me on.

"Good nigger," she nodded approvingly as I chewed the carrot. "Now that wasn't so hard, was it?" she added, as if she were talking to a child.

I didn't respond, because although I had just obeyed her, I had yet to admit to anything. I knew I was clutching at straws.

She added, "If you want more, just ask," before she turned and swaggered out, hips swaying invitingly.

As I stared at her, her pussy taste lingering in my mouth, my first thought was 'yes I want more', but I shook that away as I realized just how out of hand this was becoming.

Later that night, I had my white boy toy come over to fuck me, but all I could think about was Shelly and her dominant persona. I came, but he had nothing emotionally to do with it. It was all her.

Week 6:

I didn't see her until Sunday when she walked in and placed a zip lock bag with a white vibrator in it on top of my desk.

I looked at her perplexed and asked, as I noticed red lipstick on the base of it where the vibe turned on and off, "And what am I supposed to do with this?"

"Well, I just rode our nigger boss's face with it," she said so matter-of-factly she could have been discussing the weather, "and I figured you may want to taste my cunt cum."

"What?" I asked, even though I'd heard her.

"I allowed the fat nigger to hold the vibe in between her big lips as I rode the vibe and her face to orgasm," she explained. "The toy is still dripping with my juices, as was Janey's face."

"And when did you do this?" I asked, I knowing Janette didn't work until later tonight for inventory... and hoping this was just a lie from the pretty princess... even as I noticed her calling Janette Janey.

"At my house about thirty minutes ago," she answered. "That nigger will do anything for some white cunt."

"Shelly, don't use the 'C' word," I scolded, which was ludicrous since I wasn't trying to stop her from saying the 'N' word, which was far worse.

She laughed, "Look, I know you'd love to lap on my white cunt, but niggers have to earn that privilege. But I knew you would want to clean this off for me like a good nigger slut."

She then walked out, closing my office door, leaving me furious and horny, as usual... with the latter always winning.

Again, I was stunned by her pretentious racist attitude.

I was angry at the way she treated me.

I felt bad for the humiliation she heaped all over Janette.

Yet, intrigued, my pussy leading my decision making, I opened the sealed bag and took a sniff.

The scent was intoxicating... definitely pussy.

Suddenly my door opened and Shelly spoke, "I want it cleaned by the... oh good, I see you're already into it."

I dropped the bag on my desk as I stammered, "I-I-I was just...."

"Just what?" she asked, wearing the biggest, smuggest grin I had ever seen.

Yet, I had nothing. There was no logical reason to have the bag open.

"I'd let you have some directly from the source but I have to get to work," she said, amused. "I expect it all cleaned up by those nigger lips when I come back to get it."

She then again walked out and closed the door.

What a presumptuous little bitch!

I went to throw it away.

To regain some resemblance of control or power.

As she was just proving my theory that whites still idiotically thought they were superior to blacks. And teens like her were just privileged, spoiled brats who didn't understand how the real world worked.

Yet, as I looked at the vibe, the scent still lingering in my nostrils... I was drawn to obey... to lick her juices off the vibe, savouring the taste.

So before I even consciously realized I was doing it, I had the vibe in my hand and I was again smelling it... which made my mouth water and before I knew it I was sucking it....

And God did it taste delicious... like a delicacy you were given as a sample before a meal... just enough to make you decide to order that item for the main course.

The carrot... the vibe... they had me completely wondering what her actual pussy would taste like.

Yet, as I put the vibe back in the bag, having sucked off all the sweet cream, I ignored the burning in my loins, tossed the bag in my drawer, and returned to work... the busy family hour about to start.

After the rush, during which Shelly had actually worked, I returned to the office realizing I needed either to return or hide the vibe, as Janette would be at work in an hour.

I was putting it in my purse, when Shelly again walked into my office unannounced and said, "Did I give you permission to take it home?"

"What? No!" I protested and defended myself, "I was just hiding it from Janette."

"No point in that. And wait until you see what I instructed her to wear today," Shelly revealed, a wicked smile on her face.

"I don't care," I said, handing her the bag.

She took it and said, "I have her wearing a beige miniskirt that barely covers that big nigger booty, white pantyhose and five inch heels."

I couldn't fathom that, as white pantyhose were definitely not something black women, perhaps other than nurses, wore... both because of its historical symbolic significance and the colour wasn't one that we could pull off that well.

"Do you want some more of my cunt juice?" she asked.

"What?" I asked back, even though I'd heard her.

"Well, it's obvious you cleaned up all my cum from earlier," she said, as she took the vibe out, lifted up her skirt to reveal she was wearing thigh highs... which made my pussy gush... and after tugging her panties down a bit she slid the vibe inside her and pumped it quickly a few times.

I stared at her trimmed snatch, mine incredibly hairy, never one to believe I should do such a thing to please a man, and at the toy pumping in and out, like a mechanical cock... completely captivated.

So I truthfully didn't have time to react when she pulled it out, stepped over to me and shoved it in my mouth. "There ya go, nigger, doesn't that taste so good?"

I, like every other time, should have pushed her away... yet I remained stoic as I enjoyed the taste of her fresh pussy, and my own pussy flooded my panties.

Then she plucked it out and smiled, "Good nigger," as she placed it back in the bag and strutted out.

I felt myself flush with shame.

I felt my pussy burn with desire.

Why did this bitchy girl have such an effect on me???!!

Although I desperately wanted to fuck myself to orgasm, I resisted the temptation as I was at work and there was no lock on my door.

Janette came to work in exactly the outfit Shelly had described.

I considered asking why, as she usually came in jeans for Sunday inventory, especially since a good part of the work was in the freezer, but decided I didn't want to make her uncomfortable.

Sure, I wanted to ask why she obeyed the white bitch.

Sure, I wanted to know why she allowed herself to be treated so poorly.

Sure, I wanted to know how it all started.

Yet for each of those questions I didn't have answers of my own... so they seemed unfair to ask her.

As I was leaving, Shelly, who worked until closing on Sundays, asked, "Not sticking around for training?"

"No," I said succinctly, knowing I was going home to watch some porn, maybe read some Literotica and get myself off... unfortunately likely thinking about her.

"Well here's something for your masturbation session tonight," she said, putting something silky and wet in my hand.

"Why are you giving me these?" I asked, looking down and seeing her pink panties... even as my pussy betrayed me once again.

"You really are a silly nigger," she said, shaking her head as if I was some insipid child. "They're to wear over your head so you can both lick my cunt juice and smell my sweet cunt scent when you get yourself off."

I was once again speechless. Both shocked by her words and by my own hunger to do exactly as she'd just said.

When I didn't respond, she added, "I just finished rubbing one out only for you, nigger. So go home and enjoy my gift."

And like she always did, she immediately turned away and walked out, leaving me bewildered, speechless and horny.

I headed out and once home, did exactly as she'd instructed, looking up some interracial porn (where I learned that white woman dominating black woman porn was impossible to find... although there was tons of black women dominating white girl porn... which made me wonder why I was in the minority). I turned on a lesbian porn movie, got undressed, and put her panties to my nose while I slowly fucked myself with my vibrator.

Yet, I also wanted to taste her pussy juice, so again obeying her, I put the pink panties over my head, the wet crotch resting on my nose and over my lips.

The scent was much stronger than in the bag, much more intoxicating as I closed my eyes, listening to the video where the woman ordered, "Lick my asshole," and began licking the wet crotch while furiously fucking myself...to three orgasms as I lapped up every speck of cum I could.

As usual, as I lay there in the afterglow of euphoria, I cursed myself.

Why can't I control myself?

Why can't I stand up for myself?

All my life I've fought against racism and sexism, and yet here I was getting off while wearing a white bitch's panties over my head.

Fuck! This had to end.

Week 7:

I was in for another shock the following Sunday when Janette was working the front line (that wasn't weird... it happened sometimes when we were understaffed), no, she was wearing an employee's uniform that was way too tight on her large chest and way too short... barely covering her ass. If she were my employee I would be giving her shit, yet she was my boss, so instead I just asked, "What's going on?"

She looked embarrassed, but answered, "Shelly called in sick and the only outfit in the closet was hers."

I could have asked why she didn't just stay in her manager outfit, like we always did in these situations... but I knew the answer... Shelly had made her do it.

Janette had also asked me on Friday to stay and help with inventory Sunday evening after closing.

I was surprised by two things when I arrived in the back to start inventory after closing up.

One: Janette was still in Shelly's uniform.

Two: Shelly was in the office with a clipboard in her hand... in a nice blouse, jeans and heels.

Janette was acting as if it weren't at all strange for the employee who had called in sick a few hours ago to be at work, or that she was still wearing a uniform that was a few sizes too small; both baffled me, yet I didn't say anything.

Janette spoke to me in her usual tone, as she explained the rules of weekly inventory. "There is a counter and a recorder and the recorder is in charge."

I instantly thought it strange that there would be someone in charge of what looked like a two person team job. But again, I didn't say anything.

"And Shelly is the recorder," Janette added.

I couldn't resist and I asked, "Why Shelly?"

Janette immediately explained, "Shelly has been coming in to assist the past few weeks and I really appreciate her coming in tonight to assist when she isn't feeling well."

"Oh, okay," I said, even though it was obvious Shelly was feeling just fine.

I won't bore you with the details, but for the next two hours Shelly bossed us both around. When Shelly scolded us for incorrect counts, I gave Janette a look but she just whispered to me when Shelly wasn't in hearing range, "I know she is a bit much, but I'm trying to get her to buy into the collaborative approach as I try to encourage her to take ownership for her behaviour."

"She doesn't seem to be getting better, just bossier," I pointed out.

Janette defended her explaining, "You can't blame her. She's a product of her environment and we have an opportunity to try to change her."

I pondered the obvious. Janette was a sexual submissive to Shelly. Yet Janette spoke with such confidence that if I hadn't seen what I had a couple months ago... was it that long ago? ... I would have bought her explanation hook, line and sinker.

"I guess," I said, deciding that Janette was now in her own world of denial and I knew from experience... like a drug addict... Janette would have to accept her addiction on her own before I would have a chance of helping end her downward spiral.

Half an hour later, Janette said, "You can get going. I know you have school in the morning."

"You sure?" I asked.

"Yeah," she nodded. "We're almost done."

"Okay," I agreed, feeling I should stay and protect her, but sensing she was past saving.

Janette went to the office and I went to grab my purse. I was startled when Shelly came up behind me and asked, "Leaving?"

"Yeah, I have school tomorrow," I answered, trying to remain civil and casual.

"Me too, but Janey needs a good ass fucking first," she smiled.

"Excuse me?" I questioned, even though I had heard her.

"She loves getting her fat ass pounded. I assume all slut niggers do," she shrugged.

"Shelly, your lack of education and poor upbringing is astonishing," I said, even though if truth be told I did like a good hard ass fucking.

"Trust me, my upbringing wasn't poor, it was actually quite rich, unlike yours," she retorted, spinning my meaning around to suit her purposes.

I hated her pretentious prima donna white-is-better-than-black attitude and snapped, "Look here, bitch. You're just a spoiled rich white girl who knows nothing about the real world."
She slapped me in the face and snapped, "Don't you ever talk to me like that again, nigger. You are black trash. You are a submissive nigger who will eventually do whatever I order you to do just to taste my white cunt... just like your formerly feminist nigger boss."

I was so stunned by the slap, I was speechless.

"I'm not even sure you deserve the present I brought you," she said, as she pulled a pair of pink panties out of her pocket and shoved them in my open mouth. "If you ever want my wet panties again you will bring these to me at my school tomorrow washed, rinsed, and fluff dried."

She then walked away again, as usual leaving me baffled and bewildered... and frustratingly horny.

I pulled the panties out of my mouth, her sweet taste and scent already tantalizing me with its one of a kind frustrating perfection. No matter how much I denied it. I was completely consumed by this white bitch: her beauty, her persona, her dominance.

Fuck.

Once in my car, it was dark out and the only other two cars in the parking lot were Janette's and Shelly's. Horny as hell, I slid my finger inside my pantyhose and skirt and began frigging myself even as I moved the wet panties to my nose and lips.

I closed my eyes, my orgasm escalating quickly, and just allowed the pleasure to consume me. I hadn't been fingering myself for even a minute when I shoved the panties' crotch into my mouth and imagined me becoming Shelly's slut.

As I came, in record time, I screamed, the panties falling out of my mouth, "Yes, Ms. Shelly."

I was still coming, the orgasm like a never ending wave, when there was a knock on my window.

I quickly jerked my hand out of my fevered cunt and saw that not only was Shelly smiling at me, but her phone was aimed at me... she was filming my masturbation.

Oh fuck.

Fuck.

Fuck.

I reluctantly rolled down my window and asked, trying to look strong in my obvious moment of weakness, "What?"

Shelly was smiling from ear to ear, as she said, "I just came to give you my school address for tomorrow, when I walked into..." she paused for a moment, before adding, looking amused and disgusted, "...this."

I felt completely mortified.

At my weakness.

At her smug knowing.

At the reality I had allowed myself into a predicament I wouldn't easily be able to get out of.

"It isn't what it looks like," I protested, as I struggled to come up with a reasonable explanation for what she'd caught me doing.

Being caught masturbating was one thing.

Being caught with her pink panties in my mouth was another.

Being caught screaming her name only added to the humiliation.

"It looks like you got so turned on by the idea of licking and smelling my used panties you couldn't even wait to get home and fuck yourself like a nigger bimbo as you pretended you were my nigger slave," she replied, almost all of it frustratingly true. "That's what it looked like. And your innocent explanation is...?" She pantomimed extending a microphone to me for my response.

"I got to go," I said, humiliated and needing to get out of there right then and there.

She smiled, "You know what, keep my panties. I'm sure I can get nigger Janey to buy me some more. She bought those for me anyway... or perhaps for you."

She then strutted away, once again leaving me a complete mess. I drove home, desperately trying to think of a plan to get out of this situation that I was getting into way too deep.

On the glimmer of a bright side... I didn't have to go to her school to return her panties, even though I had originally had no intention of doing it.

The next day I pondered quitting... yet I needed the money.

That night, I had one of my black buddies come over and fuck me, depositing a load deep in my cunt. Ten minutes after he was gone, my white boy toy came over and I had him eat my cream pie... trying to regain some racial power... even asking him if he like eating my black cunt that was filled with black dominant cum. He was clearly humiliated, but he did it... compelled to obey me.

Of course I noticed the parallels between his obedience to me and mine to Shelly.

Week 8:

I was just leaving school and getting into my car to go to work the following Friday when I got a text from a blocked number.

No bra today!

It was obvious who it was from. I shook my head. Although my tits were not as huge as Janette's, which were literally the biggest I had ever seen on a woman not in a porn movie, mine were an impressive 34D, which is large for my 5'7" 135 pound frame and definitely didn't defy the odds of gravity without a solid sports bra. I only owned one non-sports bra for those rare date night scenarios.

I decided that I had to make it clear once and for all (hadn't I told myself this before?), this time I had to end it... although the video she'd made worried the hell out of me.

I got to work and Shelly wasn't there, which made me breathe a sigh of relief, as I was still wearing my bra... greatly worried not only that my tits would bounce around in my uniform, but my easily stiffened big nipples would have definitely peeked through.

I checked the schedule and saw that Shelly wasn't working today. After the rush, I was in my office when Shelly unexpectedly walked into the office and closed the door.

I looked up and saw she was in a red dress. "Please leave the door open," I requested, trying to be professional.

She ignored my request as she sighed, theatrically disappointed, "You couldn't obey one simple order, could you nigger?"

"Shelly, this has to stop," I said firmly, standing up.

"Sit down, nigger," she demanded, raising her voice as she stalked rapidly towards me.

I obeyed, sitting back down and looking up at her nervously. I pleaded, "Please Shelly, this can't continue."

"First, its Ms. Shelly to you," she corrected.

Deciding not to fight that, I addressed her as she wished, "Ms. Shelly please, this behaviour is getting out of hand."

She chuckled, "Last time I saw your hand it was between your legs as you screamed your lust for me."

"That was a temporary moment of weakness," I defended, even though I was having many temporary moments of weakness lately... another one seeming to be just beginning.

"As is this?" she asked, as she lifted up her dress, moved a finger inside her cunt, finger fucked her cunt for a few strokes, and then pulled it out and smeared her cunt juice all over my lips.

Sure enough, I could smell her intoxicating scent... again transforming me to weak submissive.

I wanted to lick my big lips and taste her pussy perfection.

I was entranced by her beauty and my confusing need to submit to her... which frustrated me beyond belief. Yet, like always, I was completely at her whim.

"It is now or never, nigger. Either you obey me without hesitation, or I walk away now and I find a different nigger slave. I mean there are tons of them around," she said, as she spun around, lifted up her dress again, this time to showcase her pantyhose clad ass, and ordered, "Now kiss my ass."

We had officially come full circle.

I had told her weeks ago I would never kiss her ass.

Yet, there I was staring at her white ass... wanting to worship it... having drooled over it and become obsessed with it. As I stared, I licked my lips, tasting her pussy cream, which only made me want more of it.

My last grain of strength had me resisting as she warned, "Five seconds, nigger. Or you'll never get a chance to snack from this white peach."

I believed her.

And before I had time to consider the consequences...I leaned forward and kissed her ass.

"Good nigger," she purred softly, "now kiss every inch of my ass... and don't miss a spot."

I squeezed her ass as I moved my lips and tongue all around her beautiful perfectly round butt. I don't know how long I was down there, kissing her ass.

Licking her ass.

Caressing her ass.

Worshipping her ass.

I wanted to show her my utter devotion to her... that I had been wrong... so I finally said, "God, I love your ass, Ms. Shelly."

"The ass you would never kiss?" she question, clearly amused at my fall from grace.

"You were right and I was wrong," I admitted.

"Because you're just a dumb-ass nigger who needs an owner, don't you?"

"Yes, Ms. Shelly," I agreed, hating the truth, but loving the reality... the contrasting feelings somehow enhancing the rush.

She pulled down her pantyhose and panties, and pulled apart her ass cheeks, "Now worship my asshole, nigger."

I knew this was a test... adding another demeaning task immediately after a first demeaning task. Yet, I was too far gone. I leaned forward, extended my tongue and licked her small puckered asshole.

"Good nigger," she approved. "Get that tongue right in there."

And I did, the best I could. Surprised that there was no scent, just a tangy sweat.

I swirled my tongue around her rosebud.

I licked it.

I tried to fuck it with my tongue.

Suddenly she grabbed the back of my head and pulled me deep between her cheeks. "Fucking LICK it, bitch."

I already was, but I licked faster... willing to do whatever she told me.

After a minute, she turned around and ordered, "Knees, nigger."

I obeyed, hoping she was going to let me lick her sweet peach.

"Are you ready to serve me, nigger slave?" She asked.

"Yes, Ms. Shelly," I replied, again without hesitation.

"You will obey without hesitation?" she asked, lifting up her dress to let me see her sweet peach, her panties and pantyhose at her ankles.

"Yes, Ms. Shelly," I nodded.

She grabbed my head and pulled me into her glistening wetness. I immediately began licking, wanting to finally taste her full nectar directly from the source.

Two licks... that's all I got... two licks... before she pushed me away and slapped me across my face. "Did I give you permission to lick me, you dumb nigger slut?"

"N-n-no, Ms. Shelly," I stammered, shocked to be slapped, devastated to be treated so disrespectfully and yet still wanting more of that peach nectar.

"You will be punished," she said, pulling her panties and pantyhose up.

"It won't happen again, Ms. Shelly," I apologized, just as there was a knock at my door.

"You may stand up," she said.

I quickly did.

"I have to go to a dance now," she said; she then walked out, allowing James to walk in.

I regained my composure, slyly licked my lips to get any traces of pussy juice and dealt with James and his situation with an unhappy customer.

All night I was on pins and needles, waiting for Shelly to return.

She didn't.

That night, I got myself off imagining her returning and allowing me to serve her.

Saturday she arrived fifteen minutes late for work, testing me to reprimand her. Of course I didn't.

She did look at my tits and smile... noticing that I wasn't wearing a bra.

She smirked and then went to her station.

And all shift she ignored me.

This frustrated me completely.

Yet it also relaxed me.

As we closed, she whispered, "I expect you naked and bent over your desk fifteen minutes after closing, nigger."

Before I could respond, she walked away, like she always did.

Those words made my cunt gush.

Those words made a chill go up my spine.

Those words awakened my inner submissiveness. One I didn't know existed before I met this beautiful bitch.

And although I knew this was a major risk... giving myself to her completely... at work... I had no choice. My body was in control and had poisoned my mind.

Once we were closed, I went to my office and did as she instructed... realizing how cold my office was... my hard nipples like frozen diamonds on my desk.

I waited a good twenty-five minutes, being in position five minutes early. I was just beginning to think she was playing me again when my office door opened.

"Fuck, you have a huge ass," she said, closing the door.

My big booty was my biggest (pun intended) asset (pun again intended) and one I was proud of... it was what made it easy to get white men... yet I knew coming from her with her tight little ass it wasn't a compliment.

"Ready for your punishment?" she asked.

"Yes, Ms. Shelly," I answered, even though I had no idea what she had in store for me.

I learned quickly as a moment later I felt a burn on my ass as she slapped my right cheek hard. I yelped, shocked by the sudden pain.

"That is for wearing your bra yesterday," she said, just as I felt something cold go inside my cunt.

And for the next few minutes she fucked me with what I would later learn was a cucumber... while she simultaneously slapped my ass.

Twenty times.

The contrasting pleasure and pain seemed to be a perfect metaphor for my polar opposite feelings ever since she'd first called me nigger.

I was burning with lust.

I was burning with shame.

I was burning with pleasure.

Each spank stirred a pleasure and pain.

She also talked dirty and called me a variety of nasty, humiliating, cunt leaking names.

She didn't count the spanks, but I did.

Two: "Don't you ever disobey me again!"

I sure didn't plan to.

Three: "Niggers like you were born to be slaves for white cunt and cock."

Before I met her those words would have been ludicrous and spurred a fire of anger inside me... now it just spurred a fire inside me.

Four: "Tell me how badly those fat nigger lips want to lick my pink peach."

I didn't hesitate, even as my ass already burned, as I admitted the truth, "I've never wanted anything more in my life, Ms. Shelly."

Five: "But I thought you were a proud black woman?"

I hated being reminded of who I was... somehow this hurt more than the physical slaps. I replied, my pride shattered, like my resistance, "You taught me who I really was behind my facade of black pride."

Six: "And what is that?"

She was canny beyond her years. She knew exactly how to break someone. I answered, belittling myself and perhaps my entire race, "A big assed nigger slave born to serve white goddesses like you."

Seven: "Because you're just a dumb nigger jungle bunny, aren't you?"

The term 'jungle bunny' wasn't one I'd ever heard before, but I instantly recognized the obvious racially historical undertones of it. Yet, like every other slight against me, I agreed, "Yes, Ms. Shelly, I'm just a dumb, nigger, jungle bunny slave born to serve you."

Eight: "Born to serve every white, you insipid bimbo bitch."

"Of course, Mistress, silly slut me, my purpose in life is to serve every white cunt and cock," I responded ludicrously and yet was beginning to believe it.

Nine: "Oh yes, nigger, I plan to make sure you get all the white cunt and cock you could ever imagine."

Although I liked white cock and loved dominating white men, I suddenly imagined serving all my white female employees.

Ten: "Do you want to be a servant, a slave, a maid, for whites like all your ancestors?"

I hated the idea. The reality was I'd spent my entire life trying to rise to the top, to break free from the invisible chains that had held my family down for generations. Yet, she had clasped new invisible chains on both my body and my mind. I answered, willing to do anything for this dominant, beautiful, bitch, "Yes, Ms. Shelly, I'm ready to be your complete slave."

Eleven: "You'll eat cunt when and where I tell you to?"

"Yes, Ms. Shelly," I agreed, the cucumber driving me crazy and keeping my insides on fire and distracting me from the sharp pain on the outside from her recurring smacks.

Twelve: "Get triple teamed by white cocks at your college?"

My eyes went wide. Somehow in my lust of obedience, I hadn't considered this going outside my secret submissive world. But nevertheless: "Oh yes, share me with lots of white big dicked frat boys."

Thirteen: "I was thinking actually maybe gifting you to the nerds at my school who do my homework for me. They do deserve a gift for all they do for me."

I knew she was still in high school! Nevertheless: "I'm your slut," I responded, at this moment willing to do anything to have her let me bury my face in her white snatch... consequences be damned.

Fourteen: "You're one of the biggest nigger sluts I've ever taken."

I wondered how many black women like me had ended up in this position. Janette and I were definitely not the only two.

Fifteen: "Oh yes, maybe I'll get Mommy to hire you as my live-in maid when I go to college next year."

That idea frightened me... yet somehow excited me. The conflicting polar opposites, like the slaps and the cucumber.

Sixteen: "Yes, you can go to school too, but the rest of the time you'll be my live-in full time nigger sex maid."

Oddly, my first thought was relief as I would still be able to go to school. Then I scolded myself at thinking I was going to allow myself to have my entire life controlled by a teenaged white girl.

Today I would be her slut... but after today I was done!

Seventeen: "Enjoying the spanking?"

Oddly, I was. "Yes, Ms. Shelly, it feels surprisingly good."

Eighteen: "Enjoying being fucked by a cucumber?"

"God, yes," I moaned, my orgasm building.

Nineteen: "Don't you dare come yet. Niggers only get to come with permission, and only after their duties as slut are completed."

I was getting close, yet nodded, "Yes, Ms. Shelly."

Twenty: "Now tell me what you want, nigger."

I responded, "To eat your white cunt with my big nigger lips until you come all over my black face."

She pulled the cucumber out, and ordered, "Knees."

I obeyed in record time... wetness leaking out of me... my ass burning.

She slipped out of her shoes and ordered, as she moved around and leaned back on my desk, "Suck on my toes."

Disappointment struck me... I'd thought I was going to get to finally dive into her pussy and taste her endlessly!

Of course I obeyed, bending down almost to the floor and licking the left foot she offered me.

The nylons were salty sweaty... a little disgusting and definitely humiliating.

As I sucked on her toes, she propped her other foot on my tit and made a phone call.

Humiliation compounded humiliation.

"Hey, I'm training a new one," she said, as I sucked on her middle toe.

Who was she talking to?

How many others had she trained?

"This one is a keeper. Nice big lips, both pairs, and a fat asshole begging to be spanked and fucked," she continued.

Somehow those insulting words flattered me.

"Yeah, she'll do anything for white cunt, won't you, nigger?" she asked, looking down at me with her big toe in my mouth.

"Yes, Ms. Shelly," I answered, like the submissive slut I was being transformed into.

"Say hi to my Mom," she said. She put the phone on speaker and handed it to me.

My eyes went wide.

I stammered, "H-h-hi."

The voice asked, "So you're the new shift supervisor?"

"Yes, ma'am," I replied, my face burning with shame.

"And you want to eat my daughter's cunt?" she asked, surprising me.

"Um, I, um," I babbled.

"Answer her, nigger," Shelly demanded, slapping my face with her toes.

"Yes, ma'am, I want to eat your daughter's cunt," I admitted, mortified... my humiliation hitting another new low.

Shelly grabbed her phone back and shoved half her foot in my open mouth, repeating, "She's a keeper."

"Sounds good; why don't you bring her over here when you're done with her? I have a few ladies over and we could use another nigger," the mother said, making my eyes go big.

"Sure," Shelly agreed. "It will be a good test. I think she may be the one I want for my live-in maid."

"What about Eleanor?" the mother asked.

"Her tits are too small," Shelly said.

"Well, definitely bring her over when you're done," the mother said. "There are already seven ladies here tonight, I'm expecting more, and we only have three niggers."
"We'll be there soon," Shelly said, before adding, "Love you, Mommy."

"Love you too, sweetheart," the mother replied sweetly, hanging up.

Shelly pulled her foot away, stood up, raised her skirt, grabbed my head and pulled me into her perfect pink pussy all in a couple of seconds.

"Lick," she ordered.

And I did.

Fireworks exploded on my tongue as the long waiting game of tease came to an end and I was finally allowed to taste her sweet nectar directly from the source.

"That's it, nigger," she moaned, "get that fat tongue in my box."

I lapped.

I licked.

I sucked.

I explored.

I did everything I could to get more of her sweetness in me.

"Oh yes, my nigger pet," she moaned. "I'm going to be using you over and over."

I didn't respond, focusing on getting her off, wanting to taste her pussy cream.

"Tonight you'll be eating a lot of white pussy and ass," she declared, as she began grinding her cunt up and down on my face.

I couldn't believe what was happening to me... yet I knew I couldn't resist. I couldn't say no. I was hers... and I would do anything to please her.

And then she came, her cum flooding out of her pussy and giving me a completely saturating facial. "Oh yes, lap it all up, nigger."

And I did.

Eagerly.

When she let go of my head, she ordered, "Look up."

I did and she took a picture of me.

"Your first pussy facial," she smiled. "Your first of many."

"Thank you, Ms. Shelly," I replied, completely satiated by her cum.

She laughed, "You really are the perfect pet. Now get dressed. Tonight you're making your first appearance at the Brookings Heights White Social Society."

"What's that?" I asked, curious.

"Rich white woman social community who have their own nigger maids, slaves and sluts to use as they wish," Shelly explained. "Caring is sharing."

"Oh," I said, having thought that such societies were long gone.

"You'll love it," she said, as she pinched both my hard nipples. "Now hurry up, be a good slave tonight and I'll let you come when they've finished with you."

"Yes, Ms. Shelly," I nodded, mortified and yet excited for what was to come... hopefully including me.

"And from now on, it's Mistress Shelly," she instructed.

As I got dressed, my own wetness leaking out of me, I agreed, "Yes, Mistress."

THE END