Dominant Black Tales and Submissive White Tails

(Part 1 from 4)

Did she have a hidden agenda? Was her desire to dominate white men driven by some racial hatred or need to seek revenge for her enslaved ancestors? By all outward appearances, that would appear to be the case. Mistress Desire was far more complex than superficial appearances would allow, however. Black, strong, confident, and proud, there was no mistaking that the Domina was proud of her African heritage and took pleasure in reducing her white submissives to whatever it was that they feared the most. There was a certain subtlety she possessed that could not be defined by labels and she knew how to use that to the best of her advantage. It was that power the would lead Bryan Summers down the road of depravity and submission. 

She chose to meet him in a very public bar. It was a gay bar in fact, and it was on the evening of the citywide famous drag show. Queens weren't the only people in attendance, butches, studs, lipsticks, straights, bisexuals and everyone in between showed up to revel in the god damned decadence and defiance the night represented. Anyone who wanted to thumb their nose at the status quo and acknowledge that they couldn't be defined sexually by the strict and puritanical morals of the Bible belt felt comfortable showing up. There was plenty of hootin' and hollerin' for the glammed up female impersonators doing yet another rendition of "Rollin on the River" and "It's Raining Men." Her date for the evening did not fit in that category. After hours of subtle interrogation, she had determined that his greatest fear was being seen for who he really is. He was an introvert, a social recluse of sorts that wanted to keep his desires hidden from everyone, including himself. Inside, he was a slut. Not just any slut, a slut of the most insatiable, perverted, depraved kind. He wanted someone to force him to bring out his dark fantasies and help him to become who he felt he really was inside. 

She was taking a chance that he wouldn't show but she was betting that the chemistry and the desperation he felt to fulfill his desires would be motivation enough for him to make the leap into the unknown. She positioned herself at the far end of the bar at a table where she could see him enter. If her assessment was wrong and he didn't show up, she would entertain herself with the spectacle of others that wanted to exhibit their sexuality for the entire world to see. He hadn't cum in over three weeks and he had been nightly aroused with descriptive tales of her fantasies and desires. The Internet and the phone were vastly different than the adventure he was about to go on however. 

Stevie Wonder could have seen him walk through the front door. Nervous as hell, he looked around the place needing only the tiniest of excuses to turn around and leave. The promises of mind-blowing strapon anal assaults and wild, uninhibited sexual release propelled him to move forward. He spotted her immediately. She didn't have to signal for him or make her presence known to him; she exuded the regal stature whereby he knew her immediately. He made his way to her table and she had his favorite drink waiting for him. He downed it with one gulp and nervously looked around taking in all the sights, perspiration forming on his top lip. 

"Bryan, did you do as I instructed?" He lifted his arm that had been lying casually in his lap above the table and showed his baby smooth, hairless body; the only hair remaining on his body was under his arms and above the neck. She placed her hand under the table and felt for the evidence of his other command. Apparent through his clothes was a harder than steel erection and the telltale signs of a cock ring. He swallowed hard as she stroked him through his pants, knowing full well that he couldn't cum restrained as he was. They settled back and began to converse; she was controlling the flow of the exchange with her eyes and her will. He knew he was being dominated and it was more than sexual. 

She draped her legs over his and he instinctively began to massage her silken calves. He swallowed hard as he glanced down and realized that her pussy was exposed just inches away from him under her short dress. "Listen, can we get out of here? I did what you asked and I'm just not comfortable here," he stammered, his eyes darting around the room to make sure no one he knew was there. She laughed politely and ignored his comment, stroking his exposed arm and caressing his face with her soft fingertips. 

As the lights dimmed and a slow song began to play to supplement the time between performances, they were interrupted by the most breathtaking Black man in the bar approaching the table. Dressed impeccably, not a bit shy of 6'2", masculine, and looking like he stepped off the pages of a magazine, he extended his hand to the nervous submissive and said, "Would you care to dance?" 

"No thanks, I'm not gay," Bryan managed to eek out, looking like a dear caught in headlights more than unassuming business professional that wielded so much confidence at his place of work. 

"He'd love to," Desire answered, moving her legs and placing her submissive's hand gently in that of his suitor's. 

He was in a state of shock. He had specifically told Mistress Desire that he wouldn't do anything with another man. He was straight. The confusion in his eyes, the panic, the anger overwhelmed him. He had limits that were not negotiable. Being submissive and being gay were too different things. "He stood firm on his decision, "No thanks," he said with determination, "I'm not gay." 

He reached for his keys in his pocket and began to stand. "Listen, I don't know what sort of games you are playing but I'm not interested, Go fuck yourself bitch." 

Desire laughed at his defiance, placed her hand gently on his arm, and leaned in close. Her voice was sweet and gentle. "Bryan, you are standing on the verge of all of your dreams come true. Before you leave, think about everything that we've been through to get to this point, are you willing to throw it all away for a dance? Think of all the nights online where your heart felt like it was pounding out of your chest and you were begging me to use you in any way possible. Think about the things you went through to gain my favor. You know I'm the only woman that can push you past your fears. Are you ready to throw that all away for a silly little dance? If you leave, you'll go home and jerk off in solitude dreaming of the things that could have been. Do you want to do that Bryan? Do you want to abandon the potential for your wildest fantasies to come true?" 

Her voice never went above a whisper. "You can leave you little bitch but don't you dare think of contacting me again. Think about trying to find another Mistress like me that will make you feel like the depraved, dirty slut that I bring out in you. Haven't you always wanted to be the submissive bitch boy to a superior Black domme? The night of indescribable sensation that you've waited for is here for you. All you have to do is dance. Go! I won't think about you ever again, but can you say the same thing about me?"

The synapses in Bryan's brain were misfiring. He was pissed and aroused. The gentleman waiting for the dance chimed in, tired of waiting and said, "Listen, don't worry about it." He turned to walk away. 

"Wait," Bryan said meekly. Desire leaned even closer, the warmth of her body penetrating Bryan's aura. She whispered something in his ear and leaned back. Bryan stood, fighting back the tears, and said with defiance in his voice, "Wait, I'd love to dance." He knew that the dance was not the not to be the end of his tests. 

Slightly shorter than this beautiful specimen of a man before him, he didn't even know where to place his hands. His dance partner took control. He placed Bryan's arms around his neck and pulled Bryan close. Bryan swallowed hard, his frustration showing in the color in his cheeks. The alcohol in his system allowed him to relax just enough, knowing that this humiliation would be over in less than three minutes. He shut out the people around him and danced, it was more like moved to the music; he was never really that good of a dancer. Bryan had to hold on to reality. He was getting confused. The arms around his waist made him feel sexy. A feeling of security and arousal enveloped him. The sexy black shoulder that he rested his head upon was comforting. He could feel full lips brush against his neck and he yielded to the temptation to moan ever so slightly at the sensation. Strong Black hands caressed his ass. He froze momentarily; his ass had always been a highly erogenous zone for him but he made sure that he only fantasized about women taking him there. However, behind the safety of his closed eyes, in the secure embrace of the beautiful man that held him, he erotically thrust his ass back and forth, fantasizing about being fucked by his Mistress later on. The hands grabbing his ass were forceful and he loved the sensation of being taken...forced, which only cause him to grind his ass harder and harder against his dance partner. 

"Uhmmm, the song's over. Would you like another dance?" Bryan was snapped back into reality. 

"No... hell no! I was just dancing with you because ...No." Bryan knew his defensiveness was transparent but he had to maintain his fa‡ade of defiance if only for his own sense of well-being. 

Back at the table, Mistress Desire chuckled as Bryan slid into the seat next to her. The Black gentleman slid into the booth across from them. "You were so right Desire, his little cock was hard the entire time. And the way he was grinding his ass on me, I can tell he's going to be one hot fuck." 

"I told you his slutty side would come out, Derrick. When will you learn to trust me?" Their laughter burning his ears like acid would burn his flesh. They were sitting there causally discussing his little cock, his slutty nature, and the plans that they had made to in advance. Bryan was incensed. He fumed at the thought that this was all a set up and he mumbled something under his breath. He stood to rise and leave when the gentleman said, "Sit down, bitch. We didn't tell you that you could leave."
A lump formed in his throat as Bryan felt helpless to move. His cock had no such limitations. It was raging hard and hurting from being constrained as it was. The casual power that the Black man had over him at that moment made him feel like the submissive slut he had longed to feel like. He wondered momentarily if they had slipped something in his drink to make him have know, those kinds of thoughts. 

"What's going on here? I thought..." he was mumbling incoherently. Desire giggled and ignored him momentarily. 

"Oh, forgive my manners. Bryan, I would like you to meet Derrick. He's my lover. We like to play together. He's the male version of me, don't you think? Derrick've already met Bryan." The rapid eye movement of Bryan indicated confusion. "You didn't honestly think someone as breathtaking as he would actually be attracted to someone like you, did you?" She laughed even louder; Bryan was afraid that her amusement would draw attention to them. He felt unattractive with her comment but that somehow aroused him even more. He wondered what people would think, a white man sitting there with two Black people. He was sure everyone in the place could read his mind. Bryan couldn't even discern his own thoughts at that moment. All sorts of thoughts ran through his mind about what the two of them had in mind for him. He feared the outcome if he decided to let them go through with their plans and he was terrified of letting the extreme sensation of arousal that he was experiencing go.

For years, his attraction to Black women had consumed his every fantasy. He loved their strength and their assuredness. He loved their comfort and sophistication. White women hadn't aroused him in the better part of four years or more. Sex with his wife was reduced to a once-a-week obligatory fuck on Saturday nights to keep her from complaining. He would climb on top of her and in order to cum, he would fantasize about being at the mercy of a black woman, having her control his every desire. The pale skin of his wife just couldn't arouse him any more. 

White women were insignificant to him except on the rare occasion he fantasized about having a white wife that would be a slut for black cock. Intermittently, he would dream of having a white wife that craved huge black cocks fucking her mouth, pussy and asshole unmercilessly while he served the Black wives of those men in whatever degrading or humiliating ways they saw fit. Those thoughts didn't seem realistic, his conservative wife would never think of such things, so he dismissed them as a fleeting fantasy. He was comfy defining himself as submissive to Black women, a submissive of the most extreme proportions. If he were to allow himself to be honest and frank about his own desires, there had been many nights he has dreamt of being forced to be a cross-dressing sissy for Black cock, but he wanted to be "forced" so he could absolve himself of the guilt of desiring those yummy Black studs. He allowed himself to freely fantasize about Black women all the time, and all the things that he would do for them. 

"Let's go," her directive was simple and to the point, bringing Bryan back to reality. Out into the night air, Bryan had more reservations. All the "ifs" and the "what ifs" and logistics were causing him to panic. He stood helpless, like a child, waiting for further instruction. 

Derrick and Desire kissed in the darkness and shadows of the parking lot. They held hands and ignored Bryan but they were ever aware of his presence behind them as they made out while he watched. They approached an SUV and opened the back door and Derrick turned momentarily to tell Bryan to get in. Other than that, they were ignoring him as if he was insignificant to their arousal. Bryan, on the other hand, was mesmerized watching them kiss. Their skin looked so...different. They seemed so...powerful. It was intoxicating to watch them together. 

He stepped in the back seat and closed the door behind him as he regretted not telling someone whom he was going to meet, getting some significant contact information from this woman in case something went wrong. Derrick drove while he and Desire chatted, laughed, and occasionally looked in the rear view mirror. He went to adjust his cock as it had been hard for hours before meeting her and the dull ache in his nuts was a sweet and painful reminder of that fact. He wanted those nuts to be kicked, slapped, and twisted at the hands of the gorgeous mistress that sat in the passenger side of the truck in front of him. His boypussy was throbbing thinking about being fucked savagely. The pair in front of him seemed so sensuous, so oblivious to his presence, he wondered if they would forget about him and leave him to stroke his hard cock while he watched them make love or if he would be allowed to cum at all. 

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