The Dark Side

One profile seemed to catch his attention. She identified herself as Mistress Desire but her profile said her name was Desiree' and didn't mind being referred to as that. She was a moderator for the site and she was one of the professionals employed at the dungeon. In fact, she was the woman in the video with his friend Bryan. She wrote an awful lot on her personal blogs about race and politics and everything she said pissed David off and annoyed him. He was, however, intrigued by her. He would check her profile every time he logged on multiple times a day to see if she had added anything new. He looked at all her pictures and blogs and contemplated for a hot minute what it would be like to suck a dick in front of her. He hated her, hated everything she stood for, but there was something about her that made him addicted to her more than any other person on the site.

Feeling full of himself, he sent her a message, a rude one in fact, saying he disagreed with everything she said and she wasn't as smart as she thought she was, but he wanted to have a conversation with her. She responded politely and succinctly, saying, "No, thank you."

She might as well have said, "Fuck you, fuck your filthy, stinking mother, fuck your entire pathetic, useless life," because that's what any sign of rejection sounded like to David. Who the fuck did this uppity bitch think she was? HOW DARE SHE reject him, regardless of the fact that his message had insulted her and she truly wasn't interested in anything he had to say! David was used to everyone catering to him, whatever he wanted he got and when he didn't, he threw a tantrum. He fired off another message, this time, telling her what he really thought of her. "You're fucked up. You don't know what you are talking about. You weren't a slave so get over it you dumb bitch." It went on and on for a few more paragraphs with all the standard clichés white people throw around when they are trying to belittle a Black person: The Irish were enslaved and they overcame it, the Jews had the Holocaust and they overcame it, and the ever-popular, Africans sold each other into slavery. You have to give white people credit. In their efforts to prove that slavery wasn't that bad and that Black people truly are inherently inferior, they all say the same things, regardless of the lack of merit of their lame arguments.

Her response came quickly. "Let me break you. I've encountered lots of white boys like you. Schedule an appointment with me. It will be my great pleasure to take your money and divest you of your racism."

"I'm not racist! YOU'RE the racist," he pounded out in response, adding that Blacks were the reason racism persisted, not whites and that he didn't see color. David could almost type it in his sleep. He had typed it hundreds of times before, maybe thousands over the years. He was racist, the very definition of racist in fact, but as long as he said, "I'm not racist, you're the racist," he was assured that he was beyond reproach and as holy and sanctified as if he was sitting at the right hand of God himself.

Her response was succinct. "I see."

That was it. She didn't say anything else. "I see? What the fuck could she possibly see? What the hell sort of response was that," he shouted out loud at his tablet. How was he supposed to respond to that? He was expecting her to be angry and defensive and she wasn't. He wanted to put her in her place and have the last word but she didn't give him the opportunity. That fucking bitch!

He created another profile for no other reason than to stalk Mistress Desire. He became obsessed. He commented on every word she wrote, every picture she posted. He made up several other fake profiles, thinking he was really cleaver in doing so, all with the sole purpose of stalking her. She never responded, or when she did, it summarily destroyed whatever empty argument he was trying to make. Finally, with no other recourse, he responded to her email. Two weeks after getting her message, two weeks to the day in fact, he responded by saying, "You don't see anything, bitch. You are just blinded by your racism and your stupidity." There, that would put her in her place.

New Message: "I had a cancellation and I have an appointment available on the 16th at 9 pm. If you'd like me to reserve it for you, just let me know."

"YOU STUPID FUCKING CUNT BLACK BITCH!! I WOULD NEVER PAY YOU TO DOMINATE ME. YOU CAN'T DOMINATE ME YOU DUMB WHORE!! GET THAT THROUGH YOUR THICK FUCKING RETARDED BRAIN." The minute he hit send, he regretted his response. Damn, she had gotten under his skin a little. Oh well, no big deal.

The cost for a session with Mistress Desire was $1000 for two hours. She was the most expensive Domme on the site. Everyone else charged in the neighborhood of $300 an hour, which was $280 too expensive for David. And Mistress Desire only worked two weekends a month unlike the other women who seemed to have full-time employment at The Dark Side. David spent almost $1000 on recreational diversions in a week. Alcohol, drugs, paying guys to let him suck them off, toys, website subscriptions, and live webcam shows . . . it added up quickly. The amount of the money wasn't the issue, it was the fact that he would be giving money to some ghetto chick to get her nails done or buy a gaudy knock-off designer bag, or whatever it was that ghetto women did with their money. His money was too good to give to a black chick, they weren't deserving of his money and certainly not that amount.

The entire exchange had David on the rail and he called Donna and told her he had to work late that evening. She didn't question him, she was quite used to it. He grabbed something to eat at a drive through and headed directly to Rock's to get there early. Every time he went back to Rock's he would look for Bryan. The arrogant part of him wanted to spit on Bryan; he wanted to show his obvious disgust and anger. Was it even a little bit ironic to Dave that he wanted the exact same thing that was shown on the website from Black men yet he was repulsed by a white man wanting that from a Black woman? It never even crossed his mind. That's how fragmented his brain was; that's how deep the compartmentalization of his sexuality was.

Friday nights at Rocks were always sure to be busy and he was almost guaranteed to find some action. Straight Black men, married ones mostly who wanted to get their dicks sucked but didn't want to deal with the messiness of white women and all the emotional drama that they brought to the table, would come to Rocks to get sucked off by white guys. No muss, no fuss, no reciprocation. David would stay on his knees, just waiting for a black cock to be shoved in his mouth. He didn't care who it belonged to, he sort of thought about diseases but usually only when he was surrounded by his friends and he was complaining how Black men were so promiscuous and irresponsible. OK, so he wasn't the most self-aware person, sue him.

Jackpot! As David walked through the dark and sticky corridor he saw the dick of his dreams. Enormous, black, and hard, the guy who owned it was sitting in a booth, the door wide open, stroking his meat and daring anyone who thought they could take it on to blow him. Arrogant enough to assume he could handle a cock that big, he pushed his way through the crowd of white admirers and got down on his knees, ready to worship the perfection before him.

"Come on, faggot, get to work. I need to pump out a week's worth of cum."

David was almost light-headed at the concept. Momentarily, he had visions of his mouth being filled to capacity and over-flowing with cum, causing his eyes to almost roll back in his head. Immediately, he went to work. He could barely get his mouth around the whole thing. He wasn't as great a cocksucker as be believed himself to be, he was, very much like the rest of his existence, just average. The gentleman being sucked grew tired of the half-assed attempt Dave was making and decided to literally take things into his own hands. He grabbed the sides of David's head and started skull-fucking him to within an inch of his life. He was ramming David's head up and down, entirely too fast, making him choke and gag and practically suffocate. Spit was flying everywhere. David tried to push himself away, to stop to get some air, and that seemed to annoy his host. What had been a brutal face-fucking before became even more relentless. He was going to pass out. He couldn't get air. He was going to hurl. He felt the contents of his stomach rumbling and tears streamed from his eyes. The entire time, the guy was hurling insults at him, calling him names.

"Fucking sissy bitch, suck my dick you white cocksucker. That's right, bitch, eat it, eat my fucking big slab of black meat. Work for that cum. That's what you want, isn't it?"

Dave would have nodded if he had control of his head. He could barely hear the words because his ears were covered and he was being slapped really hard. The sting of the pain was excruciating but it only got worse when some vile form of stomach fluids came gushing out of his mouth and nose and covered the guy's cock and balls. He could hear people behind him, gasping in shock and horror and arousal. He was the star. In his mind, people were standing around watching him perform, not the black man with the huge cock who was pounding it deep in his throat and providing the perfect dirty soundtrack. Nope, he never even questioned that everyone was standing around jerking off admiring his cock-sucking skills. His own cock was rock hard even without the assistance of his little blue pills. This is the sort of thing David lived for. He wanted his sex to be dirty and shameful and taboo. He tried to reach for his zipper to undo his pants and stroke his little cock but he couldn't even do that he was being face-fucked so forcefully. All he could really do was try to breath and not suffocate.

An experienced cocksucker if nothing else, he could tell the moment of reckoning was close. He couldn't really do anything as he was no longer in control so he held on for dear life. The first spurt of cum landed on his tongue, but all the rest were deposited deep in his throat. He wanted to taste the cum but it was not to be. He counted seven, maybe eight pulsations verifying that he would indeed had his mouth overflowing with cum had he been given the opportunity. Just as his head was released, he fell backwards, landing on his flat ass and still a bit disoriented.

He looked around. Some guys were still stroking themselves, others had clearly cum and were cleaning up, and a few others were just there to observe. He got up and thanked the guy and brushed himself off a little and tried to regain his bearings. He couldn't really high-five anyone or talk about it so he just sort of stood around and tried to figure out what to do next. His first instinct was to go home and furiously jerk off but he wanted to stay and see if he could get another cock to suck.

"Good job." The voice came from behind him. He turned to see Bryan less than three feet away. He was busted!

Unable to deny his participation in the lewd and lascivious act he had just committed, he immediately went into defensive mode. "Don't judge me! So what? If you say anything to anyone I'll tell them all about you and what you do. I saw you on that website and I will tell everyone about what you do." Humility was a skill he had to work on.

Bryan smirked. "Relax man. I was just trying to acknowledge that you took on a serious challenge and you survived. I've seen you here before. Plenty of times. I guess you were busy so you didn't see me. I'm not trying to start any trouble. It's just that I've seen lots of guys who couldn't take Derrick all the way down or last until he came and I was giving you a sincere compliment."

The look of confusion on David's face was apparent. "Derrick? You know that guy?"

"Yes, we've belonged to him for almost 10 years. Well, actually to him and his wife, Desiree'." Bryan spoke confidently, with no shame or remorse. He spoke as if it was perfectly natural for a white man to say he belonged to a Black couple. There was no doubt that the Desiree' he spoke of was the woman he had verbally assaulted on the website. Bryan continued, "The first time I sucked Derrick off, I practically passed out as well. Now, I can take him with no problems. OK, I just wanted to say hello. See you around man. Oh, and don't worry. Your secret's safe with me." With that, Bryan walked off in the direction of the open door, undressed completely, and positioned himself in front of Derrick, his cock still slippery with spit and gunk, and began what was to be round two with only a few minutes of recovery time after his first nut.

David looked at the pairing like a scene out of a science fiction movie. His brain was misfiring. Had he heard him correctly? Did he say WE? There's no way he could have meant his wife Rebecca so who the hell was he referring to? Rebecca was . . . well, she wasn't the sort of white woman that "fucked Black". Dave stumbled to his car, disoriented. He couldn't wait to get home. He was so turned on, so confused, so out of control he whipped out his cock and started jerking off in his car, in the parking lot, not giving a fuck if anyone saw him or not. Recalling how he was used, abused, the sheer humiliation of it all was such a fucking turn on. Fuck! He was stroking his cock furiously. He wanted more. He lived for that sort of treatment.

He came on his shirt and needed to clean up with a stash of napkins from various fast food joints he had accumulated. As he opened the glove compartment, the flyer from The Dark Side fell out. He must have put it in there weeks ago. He pulled out his cell phone and dialed the number on the glossy cardstock immediately.

"Hello? Yes, I uhmmmm, I would like to well, make an appointment."

A soft, sexy voice on the other end of the phone greeted him and asked if this was his first appointment. He nodded, forgetting for a moment that she couldn't see him, the words stuck in his throat. Experienced with callers who were uncomfortable, the voice at the other end of the call asked if he had a preference for who he wanted to see.

"Oh, yeah. Mistress Desiree' . . . Desire . . . whatever the fuck her name is." He caught himself. He knew when he was being an asshole, he was just so used to doing it he never felt a need to control it. He knew this was the time for a little bit of decorum. "Sorry, yes, Mistress Desire," he said a teeny bit more meekly this time.

"I'm terribly sorry, she's booked for the next six months. Would you like to set up an appointment for someone else sooner or would you rather wait for her specifically?"

"No, no, no! She told me today that she would fit me in on the 16th. She told me that she wanted to . . ." He cleared his throat. He couldn't say the words. He was frustrated. He couldn't wait six months. He was entitled and privileged. Everything was a blur of confusion in that moment. His thoughts were coming in fits and spurts.

The young lady on the phone spoke calmly. She explained that she would talk to Mistress Desire when she was finished her session and get back to him in the morning. She asked lots of questions about what he liked, what he wanted, his boundaries and hard limits and things like that, all clearly formed so he could give a simple affirmative or negative response. She explained all sorts of rules, most of whom he didn't listen to because he was stroking his little cock again. He couldn't cum again if you paid him but he was still so horny that he was going to pull it until it was raw. He heard something about "no sex" but he figured that was just for legal purposes. If he was going to pay a grand, he was going to get some pussy for sure even though he really wasn't motivated by straight sex that much. "May I have your name and telephone number so that I may call you back tomorrow and let you know what she says?"

If he had been on a land line, Dave would have slammed down the phone in outrage. He hung up. This time, the drive home was slow and purposed. He didn't want to go home. What was he thinking? What did Bryan mean, we? What would it be like to be dominated by a Black woman? Could he go through with it? Could she even do it? He wasn't a pushover. His mind had more questions than he could answer and he knew he had fucked up. In that moment, he wanted to be dominated by a Black woman and he wanted it bad.

The next morning he got a private message on the website from Mistress Desire saying, "I saved the spot on the 16th just in case. It's yours. All you have to do is call back and confirm."

The 16th couldn't come fast enough. Six more days. Every day felt like an eternity. In many ways, it was the first time in a long time David had experienced the sensation of humility. He wasn't the biggest loser, he was no worse or no better than any of his friends, colleagues, or associates. They were all assholes. All of them had a fallacious sense of superiority and enough arrogance to think that they deserved to control and dictate anyone and anything because they were white and male. It was their birthright. So for David to contemplate someone controlling him, manipulating him even, it was almost impossible to wrap his head around the concept. Sure, he wanted Black guys to degrade him, it got him off; that's what turned him on. But what if she forced him to do something that didn't turn him on?

David couldn't comprehend being in a situation like that but that's all he could imagine happening. This bitch was going to make him mop the floor naked and whip him like a slave or something, or even worse, make him wear some pink, frilly, panties while doing it. He didn't want to do that. No, sir! He wasn't going to do it. There was nothing about that concept that was even remotely arousing to him. OK, clarification. He loved prancing around in panties for Black men but having a woman see him do it? No way, Jose. If he was paying a grand he was going to set the rules. He would gladly suck Derrick's cock again; he was down for that. He would even get fucked by Derrick. It's not like he hadn't fantasized about that almost constantly since their last encounter. He wasn't keen on the idea of this woman watching him and even the thought of some Black chick fucking him with a strapon wasn't too arousing for Dave. He didn't want a woman, any woman, especially not a Black woman seeing him enjoying something like that. He made up his mind that if she did that, if she fucked him with a strapon, he wasn't going to let her see him enjoying it. He was going to pretend that it hurt and that he was a virgin.

Parking a few blocks away in an attended lot on the big night was a decision David regretted while taking the walk to the street that housed the Dungeon. The Dark Side was located on a tree-lined street, bars and restaurants and a few eclectic shops littered one side of the street and an oddly-distinct brownstone discretely sandwiched between a record store and an art gallery that had been converted from a brownstone on the other. There was no sign, nothing to indicate what was going on inside. He was assured it was the right place however, as he had driven by it almost daily, at all hours of the night and day in the last six days.

The only people he ever saw entering the front door were white men. He figured there must be another entrance in the back where the women came and went. He had a game plan. He was going to get a drink at the bar across the street and decide if he could go through with it. With a little liquid courage, he would approach the brownstone, ring the bell and pretend he was talking to his friend on the cell phone if anyone passed by. None of that was necessary. He climbed the stairs, rang the bell, and a buzzer granted him immediate access.