Deconstructing the Professor

It was his turn for the nasty talk. "Keep coming, Mommy-slut. You'll be coming over and over again as I use you. And just wait until Nicole learns that you're our personal live-in whore. She almost made you eat her cunt today after you massaged her feet, but she chickened out. Oh, but she's told me of some plans she has for you as her dyke-Mommy. You'll like that won't you, Mommy?"

The idea of serving Nicole as well just seemed like the next step in the evolution of my utter submission as I became not only a slave to a white coed and a white football player, but also to my half-white children. As I continued my assault on my clit, I moaned, "Oh God yes, son, make me my daughter's slave too. I'm both of yours to use as you please."

He pulled out of my ass and slid back into my pussy as he called me name after name, each one bringing assaults of pleasure to me. "You're such a Mommy-slut, a dirty dyke whore who gave herself into slavery. You love being a sex slave, don't you, Mommy?"

"Oh god yes, son, I do," I whimpered, my second orgasm now coming to full tide.

"Come again, Mommy-slut, Mommy-whore, Mommy-dyke," he continued, pounding ruthlessly in my cunt.

"Harder, baby," I moaned, like the nasty fuck-slut I'd become. A minute later my first orgasm still lingering, a second, smaller but still powerful orgasm hit. "Aaaaaaaaaahhhh, yeeeeeeeeeesssss."

Eventually my son pulled out of me and I collapsed onto the floor, my legs like jelly. My body continued to quake as my never-ending orgasm pulsed and pulsed.

When I opened my eyes a minute or two later, my son was gone. I weakly got up and as my mind finally turned back on, I was aghast at what had just transpired. I began to cry, the reality that I'd just committed incest finally realized... I'd hit rock bottom... I'd just committed incest and loved every minute of it.

37. A TENTH BRIEF (Well actually rather lengthy) INTERLUDE INTO THE LIFE OF KEISHA JEFFERSON: THE PLAN BACKFIRES BIG TIME

I'm oddly giddy as I arrive at work the next day. Ms. Myers followed through and has installed a camera in the corner that's impossible to see unless you're looking for it. The hard part is going to be not to give in too easily and allow Madison to suspect something is up.

Even the nasty sex dream last night where I'd once again submitted to Madison doesn't deter my determination and confidence. She strolls in after the workday is done and opens with, "You're in my desk."

"I beg to differ," I retort.

"You'll be begging for something for sure," she quips back.

Sarcastically I shoot back, rolling my eyes, "Oh yes, Madison, please will you be my white master?"

"That would be Mistress," she corrects.

"Oh, so sorry, Mistress," I correct, my sarcasm still in full flood.

She laughs softly. "So how did your botched delivery go over with your bosses?"

"Not great," I admit, surprised by the change of topic.

"I could talk to Mr. Walters for you," she offers.

"Thanks, but no thanks."

"No skin off my nose," she shrugs, sitting down (not at my desk... chalk up one point for me anyway).

"What do you want?" I ask, trying to draw out the real reason for her being here.

She shrugs, answering my question with a question, "What do you think I want?"

"Madison, I'm way too tired to keep playing this game. I need to get to work," I sigh, returning to my work.

"Why bother?"

"Why bother what?"

"Working on such trivial shit."

"Because what you think of as trivial is my reason to live. It's my purpose," I point out, starting to get annoyed by her as always happens.

She laughs. "Oh, you have a reason to live, all right."

"And what would that be?"

"You were made to serve," she declares.

"You, I assume."

"Not necessarily, just people like me."

"White people?"

"You said it, not I," she points out.

I'm getting frustrated with this circling conversation. "Like I said, I need to get to work."

"Agreed," she says, flipping off her shoes. "Come give me a foot massage."

"Are you kidding me?"

Her smile fades. "Do you think I am kidding?"

I pause. This isn't going as I'd planned. I can feel the slightest chill go up my spine as my naughty dreams of submission pop into my head, but I push them away. I need her to be more dominant so I can get self-incriminating words of hers on tape, and once I get those, I know I can edit the tape as need be to eliminate any aspects that make me look bad. Acting as if I were falling for her authority, I asked with resignation in my voice, "If I give you a foot massage, will you leave me alone afterwards?"

"If that's what you still want," she replies, her smile returning.

"Promise?" I ask, pretending to be shy and insecure, even as my confidence bubbles deep inside.

"Of course," she smiles warmly.

I approach her, fall to my knees and tentatively grasp her black-stocking-clad left foot. My hands are shaking as I obey her order, even though I'm only doing this to manipulate her. Oddly, the soft silk in my hands sends another chill up my back, and I need to squelch the tingle down below that's trying for my attention.

A couple minutes into the foot massage, she finally speaks. "Keisha, you look so perfect on your knees serving me."

I smile, knowing she'll soon say the words that will implicate her in her racist sexual conquest. "Please don't start on that again," I reply, attempting to set her up.

"Oh, Keisha, we're just getting started," she promises.

"How so?" I ask, desperate to get her to say something to the point, something incriminating, as I switch feet.

She opens her legs, giving me an unobstructed view at her panty-clad crotch. "I think you already know where this is going to end."

"Madison, I'm not like the others," I argue, distracted by her white crotch even as the fire down below begins to grow, refusing to be squelched no matter how much I try to think of unsexy things, like sandpaper or street addresses.

"Oh, you're exactly like all the others," she appraises me.

"How so?" I ask, knowing I'm very close to getting her on tape as being the racist she is.

"You pretend civility and disinterest, yet deep down the carnal lust you've held in check all these years is begging to get out," she critiques me. She opens her legs a bit more and invites me, "Take a good look, Keisha."

I look away.

She repeats the order, her tone once again switching to authoritative, "I said, take a good look, Keisha."

I refuse to obey with every fibre of my being.

"Now!" she orders.

I stand up, knowing I'm losing so far, knowing I have to look away before I submit to her just like the others did, and like I consistently have in my dreams. I can't believe how my desire for her and my need to obey her is growing with each touch of her feet, every syllable of her words.

"Really?" she objects, her tone condescending.

"You promised it was all I had to do," I protest, for the first time today worried I'm not strong enough to fight her.

"True," she smiles, standing up and stalking towards me.

"Stop, Madison," I protested.

"Stop what?" she asks, reaching me.

I freeze in place, unable to speak or to move.

Her hand reaches under my skirt and goes directly to my wet panties. "Why are your undies all wet?"

I stammer, "P-p-please... stop."

"You sure you want me to?" she asks, adding, "You seem pretty revved up."

Her finger slips inside my panties and I let out an uncontrollable moan as her finger touches my pussy lips. It's been so long since I let a man touch me intimately, much less another woman, and I'm suddenly rattled. I mumble, "No... I... please leave me alone."

Her finger slides inside my pussy and I gasp. My mind is screaming I should pull myself away, yet my vagina is screaming even louder to don't dare move. I close my eyes and allow this pretentious bitch to pleasure me.

Her soft voice purrs to me, "That's it Keisha, allow your body to take control. Submit to the carnal desires you've held in check for so long. This is what you want, what you need."

Her words sound so absurd, yet they're also so soothing. I weakly protest, "Madison, no."

"Shhhhhhh," she soothes me calmly, her free hand reaching into her purse. She pulls out a small silver ball, presses a button and then slips it under my skirt and into my pussy.

A quick pulsing quakes my insides and makes the fire inside me burn bright. As I let out a moan, I feel Madison's hands on my shoulders, directing me to my knees. I feel helpless as I allow myself to be guided into a submissive position.

"You want to taste my cunt, don't you?"

"No, I..."

"Don't deny the inevitable, Keisha. You're like all the others. You feign propriety, dignity and so forth, but like all the rest, what you need is discipline and structure."

"That isn't true," I begin to protest, but also letting out another moan, unable to control my growing desire to come.

She smiles a self-satisfied smile as she goes over to my desk and sits down in my chair. She orders me, "Under my desk, Keisha. Quick, before someone sees."

Reality hits me like a cold shower and I begin to rise to my feet.

"Get back on your knees!" she demands, her voice harsh and mean.

I obey quickly, intimidated by her knife-like tone.

"Crawl under my desk," she clarifies.

"Madison, this is ridiculous," I protest, noticing her repeatedly calling my desk hers.

She laughs, "No, the ridiculous thing is that you thought you could outsmart me. Someone like you can never outplay me. And you'll be punished for such an attempt, no matter how epic a fail it is."

I don't move, my urge to fight her begging to be released, yet the pulsing sensations inside me are causing me great distraction and a loss of focus. I realize how quickly the tables have turned. I can't figure out how she knew of my plan. Trying to be strong, I bluff, "Madison, I'm done with this game."

"So am I. The charade of civility is over. It's time for you to accept your true identity," she smirks as she slips out of her panties.

I watch her expose herself, my vagina screaming for attention against my will.

"You will crawl under my desk right now and eat your white Mistress' pussy, or I'll punish you in ways you can't imagine," she threatens.

"But...."

"Now!" she roars.

Fearing her threat, knowing what she'd done to Ms. Myers, that lovely black woman being forced to service all those white dicks, I scramble under the desk.

"Good girl," she purrs, her mood change instant.

Humiliation burns inside me as I sit under my own desk awaiting her pleasure. She rolls her chair in and I'm soon staring at her shaved, glistening pussy. Her scent lingers and I'm captivated by its beautiful purity. I want to be able to ignore it, to be repulsed by it, yet I can only feel a lust and hunger I've never felt before. I desperately fight to ignore my growing temptation as Madison speaks. "For now, just stare at it, Keisha. You're not allowed to touch, not yet. But how can you resist such perfection?"

She pauses a moment before asking, "Did you really think I wouldn't learn about your plan to blackmail me?"

I stammer, my mind clouded in a mixture of lust and shame, "I-I-I...."

She laughs as she explains, "As soon as you left slut Carol's office, she phoned me and told me of your plan. As a reward, I've promised her that you'll be her fulltime live-in slave."

"What?"

"Did I stutter, bitch?" she snaps. "It's clear you need discipline and guidance. So I've given you as a gift to another slave, to an obedient slave. And from now on, don't you ever dare to fucking come without someone's permission."

I can't believe what she's saying, she's treating me like a commodity, like a slave. "Okay, now you can touch. Get licking, slut."

I want to protest, to assert my dignity, yet a growing part of me just wants to come, wants to taste the heavenly scent swarming me. I stare at Madison's wet pussy lips and feel myself leaning forward against my will. I stop less than an inch from her pussy, my hunger burning, the vibrations in my own pussy tingling and forbidding me from thinking straight.

Sensing my struggle Madison says, her voice soft and comforting, "Keisha, it's inevitable. You can't deny fate. You can't deny the tingling in your cunt. You may come as soon as you accept your position as my slave, but not before. So don't delay: accept your place simply by leaning forward and pleasuring your Mistress."

Her voice is soothing and her words, although absurd, seem so rational in my weakened mental state. Without even thinking, I feel myself rocking forward, my tongue extended. As soon as I make contact with Madison's vagina and her sweet taste hits my taste buds, I'm gone. The taste is addictive, and I hungrily lap at her ocean of ecstasy as if I'd been close to perishing of thirst in the desert and had just found water. I lap at her juices eagerly, unable to quench the hunger I'd ignored my whole life.

After a few minutes of pleasing my enemy, she finally speaks, "How does your Mistress' cunt taste?"

I pause, still unable to allow such an extreme concession. I remain silent.

She rolls the chair away and without a word, walks out of the room. I sit frozen beneath my desk. Part of me is thankful she's gone, yet another part of me is desperate to return to her oasis of sin. Just as I'm about to climb out from under the desk, I hear the click of heels returning my way. I remain in my subservient position and I'm mortified to hear Madison speaking with someone.

"Miss Jefferson requested I come and get you," Madison says. My face goes pale, such as it can, as I ponder who she's speaking with and who she plans to show my submissive situation.

"Okay, Miss," the voice of our janitor, the sixty-plus-year-old Elmer, as he enters my office.

"Oh, where did she go?" Madison asks with feigned surprise.

I remain frozen under my desk, each second ticking at a snail's pace.

"Well, do you know what she needed?" Elmer asks in his slow drawl of a voice.

I hold my breath, anxiety overwhelming me, all while the egg in my vagina is causing me unwanted pleasure that I desperately need to deal with.

Madison finally responds, her tone telling me she's enjoying this immensely, "Well, she must have gone home. I'm sure she'll be in contact with you tomorrow if she still needs you."

"Yes Ma'am, and I'll be on the fourth floor if Miss Jefferson returns today and still needs me," Elmer replies politely.

"If she needs you, I'll definitely let you know," Madison purrs, again her intent clear to me.

"Yes, Ma'am," Elmer repeats again and thankfully his footsteps slowly fade away.

Madison sits back down in my chair and slips out of her heels. She shoves her left foot in my face and orders, "Clean my sweaty soles, slut."

This time I don't even hesitate as I grasp her foot and begin licking the sweaty salt from her stocking-clad sole. As my tongue bathes Madison's foot, she continues flaunting her superiority over me by complimenting me with her condescending tone, then threatening me. "That's better, my pet slut. Lick my feet like a good puppy. Now, Elmer was just a warning shot. Next time you fail to answer a question or disobey an order, I'll have you begging Elmer to plug your big fat ass with his wrinkled cock. Is that understood?"

Mortified at the humiliating imagery and not doubting her threat, I agree, wording it exactly as I know she wants it, "Yes, Mistress."

"See, is that so hard?" she quips.

"Not hard at all, Mistress," I reply, continuing to lick her stocking-clad sole.

She moves her other foot to my mouth. I continue the humiliating task of cleaning the sweat from her foot as she continues explaining her expectations to me. "If you're a good slave, I won't expose you as the submissive Nigger slave you are. Do you promise to be a good Nigger slave?"

Forcing me to admit to being such a vulgar racist-implied subhuman is the final straw that breaks the camel's back. Defeated, humiliated and yet horny, I accept the bitter pill that there's no way out of this without first submitting. The tape as she, not I, had staged it would, were I foolish enough to show it to anyone couldn't implicate either of us without implicating us both, and I realize that the only way to end her power would be to reveal both of us. I think perhaps to offer myself as a sacrificial lamb in that way just might be worth it to rescue my mother and Carol, and who knows who else from her. But to do even that, I have to submit to her unconditionally. I reply, like the submissive she expects, "Yes, Mistress, I promise to be a good Nigger slave."

"Good puppy," she purrs, opening her legs and ordering, "Now finish what you started, slave."

I lean between her legs once again, being drawn in by a scent so intoxicating that it's fogging my mind. I'm no longer certain how much of my submission is tactical acting and how much is sincere. I lick her pussy and I'm again mesmerized by her delicious taste. Wanting to get her off as soon as possible and end this humiliating ordeal, I slide two fingers inside her wet pussy while sucking on her clit. Madison's moans increase exponentially, and in only a couple minutes my face is being coated with her cum. I lap it up eagerly, already addicted to the taste. I can't get enough, wanting nothing more than to savour Madison's cum.

Suddenly she pulls away and orders, "Up on your desk, slave."

I obey, the buzzing in my vagina driving me crazy as is the euphoria from getting Madison off. She smiles and compliments me, "You may make a good slave yet."

"I hope to be, Mistress," I moan, the buzzing in my pussy really beginning to drive me wild, making me think like a horny coed.

"You want to come, don't you, slut?" she asks, her hand going to my pussy.

"Aaaaaah, yes, Mistress," I scream, unable to control my desire.

"Beg me to allow you to come," Madison demands, her finger on my clit.

"Oh please, Mistress, I need to come so bad," I whimper.

"What are you?" she asks.

"A slut," I declare.

"What else?" she perseveres, her finger sliding up and down my pussy lips.

"Your slut," I admit.

"A Nigger slut?"

So close to coming, so desperate to come, the words spewing out of my mouth shock both me and Madison as I declare in this sanctum of black civil rights, "Oh yes, Mistress, I'm your whorish Nigger slut. Make me your Nigger slave, use my black body for your personal pleasure. I'm yours, my white Mistress."

Content, two fingers slide inside my pussy and she dictates, "You will come on the count of one, slut."

"Kkkkkk, Mistress," I moan, not knowing how I can hold back any longer.

Her fingers inside me have gotten me to a delirious state.

"Ten," she begins.

"Nine," she announces, so long after ten I think I may explode.

"Eight." Her fingers brushing over my g-spot are making me shake involuntarily.

"Seven." I realize I've stopped breathing, so I let out a long breath.

"Six," she announces, slipping a third finger inside my widening slit.

"Five, slut," she announces, adding, "don't you dare come early, or you'll be punished in ways you can only begin to imagine."

I close my eyes, concentrating on nothing but control.

"Four." The dam is so close to bursting, her fingers and the egg toy that's still in there causing me the most irresistible urge to come I've ever experienced. I'm trembling like a leaf in a windstorm as my fear of retribution fights against my body's urges.

"Three," Madison continues counting down, another finger somehow fitting inside my cunt.

"Aaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaah," My frustration screams at the top of my lungs, arching my back, writhing against the invading fingers, forgetting that I'm in my office and not in the confines of my own home.

"Two, slut. You're so close to orgasm. So close to becoming the real slut that deep down you've always wanted to be," she teases, yet another finger, her thumb, now inside me with all her other fingers.