Every August, kinksters from all over the country convene at the annual Black Beat Conference to let off a little steam, party, and revel in some dark debauchery. It's a common meeting ground for people of color in the BDSM community, and the people who admire them, to explore their fantasies with others. It was also an event perfectly suited for Rick and Tracy, as they were an interracial couple who liked to dabble in the D/s world, and the conference was only a hop, skip, and a jump from their Baltimore digs. They could go, check it out, and if they weren't particularly feeling the crowd, they could be home in less than a half hour.
It was a gorgeous summer night, electricity was in the air, and the couple was feeling frisky and adventurous. Rick was anxious to attend the event, a little more so than perhaps he wanted to let on, because he was hoping his beautiful Ebony girlfriend of approximately four years would take the opportunity to explore her dominant side with a little greater gusto. He was hoping she would be inspired to be a little more adventurous, a bit more stern, that she would assume her true role as Domme to reduce him to the pain pig/oral slut he longed to be who worshipped at her feet. For Tracy, the weekend was nothing more than a chance to have some fun and release some of the pressure of her job as an attorney, perhaps even get off on a little exhibitionism.
It wasn't as if the lovely lady was totally unfamiliar with the world of female domination. Elise Sutton, a Dominatrix who specializes in counseling for Doms and subs in loving relationships did a little match making, introduced the pair, and the two hit it off immediately. They were interdependent in the healthiest of ways; they traveled the world together, and just seemed to fit each other like a lock and key. It was their genuine love for one another that cemented their relationship; it was their equal alpha personalities that led them to explore opposite ends of the BDSM spectrum. Rick had always needed Tracy to be a little more sadistic during their play time but it seemed to be a little outside her comfort zone so he didn't push, he just held out hope that she would one day realize her true power and supremacy as a woman, and more specifically, as a woman of African descent.
The hotel lobby was buzzing with activity. To the casual and oblivious observer, it could have been some sort of work-related conference. Everyone was dressed in their vanilla attire, mixing and mingling, registering, and signing up for presentations. "Honey, why don't you sign up for this class," Rick suggested, as he pointed to the sheet titled: Female Domination in Black and White. It wasn't so much the subject matter that made him push Tracy in that direction but it was the presenter. Mistress Khadijah was a stunningly beautiful Black Femdom who hailed from Tampa and he knew that she was exactly the type of woman who would get his girlfriend's bisexual juices flowing.
Just one glance at the picture and that was enough for Tracy to say, "Sure, that looks good, I'll sign us up."
"Oh, no," he said, "you go ahead and sign up for that, I'm going to be checking out some of the vendors to see if I can get some things for us to take home with us. Who knows what sorts of things they might have here? I'll be fine, we'll catch up with each other later in the room."
It wasn't the most well thought out plan, to just leave his girlfriend by herself and hope that she would have a grand epiphany and realize that she really wanted to ride her man's face to the point of near suffocation. He'd done his research, however, and found out that Mistress Khadijah was the head of a woman's support group called "Black Women in Kink." He was sure there were going to be lots of women there who might help her see the female domination light.
He couldn't have been more accurate if he had planned every detail. Tracy took her place in the front row, mainly to get an up close and personal view of the instructor. She had changed her clothing to something a bit more revealing but nothing like the other ladies who were leather-clad with their tits pushed up and falling out of corsets and bustiers. She glanced around the room and all she saw was women who looked like her. It was an odd sensation, in that she spent most of her time in a white world, the sensation of being among true peers was almost a little too much to digest.
It was the speaker who held her attention the most. Her face, her hair, her body were mesmerizing. The way she moved about the room, the fluidity of her speech, delivered like a true professional, was all very impressive. Tracy had to concentrate to hear the words she spoke and pretend to take notes. Khadijah delivered with a powerful punch too. She asked the class by a show of hands how many owned white subs. With the exception of one woman, everyone raised their hand. She talked openly about how to best harp on racial differences and the necessity of Black women to start owning their true power. In her presentation, Mistress Khadijah extolled the virtues of forced oral. "Normally, eating a black woman's pussy is an honor and privilege that most subs should not be able to earn unless they are cleaning out the cum of a real man. In rare instances, when a Domme is in need of satisfaction and a real man isn't available, she can use the services of a sub to pleasure her. It is entirely up to you and at your discretion. It is a good idea to use a tens unit to administer pain to the tiny white cocks of the sub. Don't be afraid of damaging them. Most of the time, their pricks don't work anyway, and even when they do, they are too small to please a real woman."
Tracy squirmed in her seat. What was being said hit a little too close to home. She glanced around nervously at the other women who were whispering to one another and nodding in agreement. She thought for a minute that she might be the only woman in the room who was in a relationship with her "sub." She never really considered Rick her sub, she considered him her boyfriend who just happened to like a little rough play in the bedroom.
Sensing her discomfort, Mistress Khadijah made eye contact with Tracy and held her gaze captive. It was in that moment, Tracy was able to get lost in the real reason she had signed up to take the class in the first place. Her attraction to Khadijah was intense. Sitting on the table before her, crossing her legs, Tracy was able to see directly up the skirt of the instructor, see her beautiful, shaved pussy just a few feet away. It was all she could do the keep herself from getting out of her seat and spreading those gorgeous brown thighs and burying her face in that soft, sweet, succulent pussy. While not a sub herself, there was no denying that she longed for the taste, scent, and feel of a woman in her life and in her arms. Mistress Khadijah was so confident, so unapologetic in her blackness, it aroused Tracy in a way she'd never experienced before.
She swallowed hard as the Domme continued her lecture. "Choose your instruments of punishment carefully. The cat of nine tails is effective for when they behave badly, disobeying your orders. You can use a riding crop when you want to take out your frustrations from your day on him for no reason. It causes the most damage and will leave him to be unable to sit for days without thinking of your divine countenance. Paddles can be used when training your sub to make them perform tasks they don't want to do. Make him say, 'Oh Mistress, please beat my worthless cock and balls and show me what a repugnant, white worm I am, one that's not fit to eat your divine Black pussy or kiss the bottom of your holy foot.' Make him beg for more punishment, because most white subs are pain sluts anyway and want nothing more than to experience extreme torture."
There was a ring of truth to her words but before she could wrap her head around the reality of it, before she could make sense of the feelings that were making her body ache with desire, the lecture was over. "So, what did you think?"
Snapped back to reality, Tracy looked up as Mistress Khadijah towered over her. The other ladies were clearing the room, heading out to other presentations or over to the conference dungeon to put some of the tactics they learned into practice. "It was, uhmmmm . . . Hi, my name is Tracy." She stood and extended her hand to shake. It was too early to tip her hand that, truth be told, she had never been comfortable in her own skin playing up the racial differences to the degree that Mistress Khadijah seemed to exhibit.
One of the things that makes a woman a good Domme is her ability to sense what isn't said. Mistress Khadijah said, without even so much as the usual pretense at casual conversation, "Is your sub here, you know, at the conference?" I could always go back with you to your room and give you some private lessons. On me." She winked.
Things were moving too quickly for Tracy but her competitive nature came out and she accepted the offer. In the elevator, Mistress Khadijah moved closer. Whispering in her ear she said, "I saw you staring at my pussy. Did you like what you saw?"
Without missing a beat, a figurative black beat as it were, Tracy took her hand and ran it down the small of her companion's back, over her full ass and in between her legs under she very short skirt. She slid her fingers in that hot, wet slit and manipulated the wet folds of flesh. She whispered back," I can't wait to stick my tongue in that hot pussy."
The seal was broken. The two women had made a connection without all the pomp and circumstance of getting to know one another. In some sort of transcendent way, they were the same person. In some sort of other-worldly dimension, they had been meant to meet and connect immediately.
