Bound & Blindfolded for Rent Ch. 05

Nigger, nigger, nigger, when she awakened in the morning without her hair done and her makeup applied, without wearing her skin tight costumes and holding her whip in her hand, and getting in the character as a Dominatrix, she was just another nigger. Something she’s never allowed to forget, if even for a split second, white people look at her differently when first seeing her. As if the first thing that registers through their minds when seeing her is not that she’s tall, beautiful, and intelligent but that she’s a nigger. There’s that instant look of recognition where they feel that they’re better than her. Having seen the look all of her life, she knows that look. The only place where she doesn’t receive that look is down in her dungeon.

Moreover, something she preferred doing, her job of bondage and discipline allowed her to work from home. Maybe later, when she earned enough money, she’d have a separate place for work and another place to live. With her so wanting to live a respectable life, not wanting any of her friends and/or relatives to know what she did for a living, except for her website, she did all she could do to hide her sexual life from her private life.

When appearing on her website, changing her hair to a more dramatic hairstyle and applying more makeup than she normally wears, she hopes that should one of her friends or relatives stumble upon her website, they wouldn’t recognize her. When out and about, she wears her hair down and applies much less makeup. When out an about, not wanting anyone to recognize her, she wears dark glasses or eyeglasses with clear lenses that she doesn’t need to wear. Even hiding her magnificent body, she wears dark, baggy clothes to conceal her God given curves.

Her website attracted those men who’d willingly pay for her sexual services. Predominantly playing the black card in advertising herself, she was the dark meat that white men wanted but didn’t know how to go about getting it. In their upscale communities, the only black people they knew were beneath them and/or in service to them. No matter how much they lusted over a beautiful, black woman, they’d never take the chance of ruining their reputation. No matter how much they lusted over a beautiful, black woman, they’d never risk their social standing in their upscale, all white community by chancing the scandal of being caught having interracial sex with a black woman, a Dominatrix at that. This way, without having to be with a black prostitute and/or without having to go slumming in a black community at the risk of being beaten and/or killed, Dominque, their personal Dominatrix, was their best and safest bet.

Moreover, even with her eventually sucking and fucking them, these men weren’t interested in having willing sex with a submissive black woman. They wanted something more. These men wanted to be controlled. These men wanted to be punished by a strong, black woman for all of the physical, emotional, and sexual transgressions their brethren and/or ancestors may have done to African Americans who were taken from their country nearly 400 years ago.

Yet, that was the past and with this the present, these men wanted to suffer all of the indignities of being dominated. These men wanted to be sexually teased and tortured while exposing their junk to the eyes of a beautiful, intelligent, and sophisticated black woman who held the whip. These men wanted to be punished and disciplined for all of the evils that they did in their workplace today.

Tired of always being in control, this was one of the few times they felt comfortable relinquishing control but not to someone who they considered inferior to them. Something they’d never admit in public but they all believed privately, they all considered Dominque superior to them. Perhaps subconsciously, these men wanted to feel the small sampling of pain that a black slave must have felt when he or she was deemed disobedient enough to whip. These men wanted to experience the sexual punishment, even allowing her to fuck them in their ass with a big, black, strap-on dildo, while being controlled by a black woman. These men wanted to do with her what they’d never do with their wives.

* * * * *

Typically, she received the same unimaginative e-mail from men soliciting her special, BDSM sexual services. It was boringly frustrating how so very many men all wrote the same, exact thing. With them not inspiring her, she’d never take on a man as a client who didn’t demonstrate imagination, intelligence, and creativity.

“Hi. I’m Alan, Joe, John, Jim, Stephen, Martin, Perry, Bob, Anthony, Tom, Hank, and/or Richard.”

No matter who they were, they all thought the same thoughts and wrote the same words.

“I saw your website. You are so beautiful. You are so sexy. I’d like for you to do to me what you do to men.”

Boring, boring, boring, if they dared asked her how much she charged, she knew that they couldn’t afford her services. She wanted the men who didn’t care how much she charged. Just as money didn’t matter to them, money mattered to her. Yet, even beyond the importance of money, it was more about what she could do to them that did. Because she was more creatively intelligent and psychologically superior to any other Dominatrix they’ve experienced, whatever price she charged was worth it to them.

Responding to everyone who wrote her, she wasn’t as fussy in the beginning who her clients were in the way that she is now. In the beginning, more concerned with growing her business by growing her clientele, now she could afford to be more selective. Critiquing their e-mail and their first contact to her, if they showed no imagination in their e-mail then they’d show no imagination in their sex. Ignoring those men who wrote her unimaginable e-mails in favor of those men who wrote her more creative and sexual enticing e-mails, finding the right client was the best way for her to not only earn more money but also to keep herself safe. Moreover, just as men needed her to sexually inspire them, she needed them to sexually inspire her too.

Swearing to herself that she’d never fall in love with a white man, that’s when she met Kevin, an ex-MMA fighter, a mixed martial arts fighter, with tattoos covering most of his white body. With his tattoos making him look more blue in color than white, and with him having a body equal to her body, he was, indeed, a sight to behold. With him the same as her, taking no shit from no one, it was odd but understandable that he need her to dominate him. With him always being the dominate one, the one responsible for delivering pain to others, he needed to feel what it’s like to be submissive.

To be continued…