Interracial Domination Duo

Andre West fidgeted in his car seat. "OK," he whispered into his watch, like it was a spy gadget from a James Bond movie, "the time is 17:30 hours and I've been surveilling the unknown address for two hours with no sign of any movement other than the mailman leaving a package." Did it matter that he didn't have a smart watch recording him, that his watch was a decade old Timex that only told time? Ehhh, not so much. Clearly, he was going a little loopy with no one to talk to and trying his best to stay under the radar slouched down in the back seat of his Tahoe. He wasn't a private eye or a police detective on a case, he was a man on a mission to get some answers. He had been dating an amazing woman named Asali Attison for 6 months. They were in love by all reasonable measures. The problem was, she was still being distant and guarded. Normally, any two people with that much in common, who had amazing, mind-blowing sex, who were interested in a long-term commitment with each other wanted to spend every waking moment with each other. Asali was being secretive. For no discernable reason whatsoever, she wanted "space." On the nights they didn't spend together, she would very often rush off the phone and he could tell there was something just not right.

A decade or so ago, Andre might have had to just settle for her answer that she just wanted time alone but Andre had the internet. He did a background check on her and found out that she had two addresses listed in Dallas. He had been to her loft plenty of times. This other address, the one he had been camped out in front of for a couple of hours was a condo she had never even mentioned. It's a good thing he had tinted windows because a Black man in a strange neighborhood sitting in his car for any length of time was enough to cause his name to become a hashtag. He was stealth. He had an empty Big Gulp cup with a very secure lid just in case he had to pee and he made sure he was dressed professionally so it would lessen the chances that someone might think he was some sort of thug and chase him through the neighborhood, you know, standing their ground. Oddly enough, he saw some scraggly-looking white guy walk past a few times who looked like he could have been an extra on the set of Breaking Bad and none of the neighbors even raised an eyebrow. Meanwhile, Andre made sure he wasn't listening to hip-hop on his car radio, he had jazz playing very softly on his phone, and he had his driver's license, registration, and car insurance cards on the front seat of the car so he wouldn't have to reach in the glove box for them. Oh, the things Black men have to do in an average day to avoid getting shot.

His time in the car was over as he saw Asali's black Infinity pull into the parking space for the unit. She got out, dressed like she had just come from the office, and sauntered in her confident, sexy way to the mailboxes and got her package. Andre decided he was going to wait for her to get to the front door, with her key in the lock before he decided to approach her. Just as he was about to open the door to his truck, a late model Honda Accord pulled up and parked in the second space for the unit. Andre froze. Of all the scenarios he had run in his head, Asali cheating was never one of them. That's what Andre kept telling himself, even as he saw a white man get out of the car and greet her on the walkway, open the door with his own set of keys and let her enter the unit first.

To say that Andre was heartbroken was an understatement. He took a few minutes to gather himself and fight back the tears. If she had some sort of sugar daddy/jungle fever, she could go straight to hell, do not pass go, do not collect $200. Steeling his nerves, he slammed the door of his truck a little too hard and blinked a few times to make sure that he didn't have any tears in his eyes. He knocked on the door with the force of someone who was not selling Girl Scout cookies.

The white man answered. His face showed signs of shock and fear. "Andre! I uhmmmmm. Hold on, let me get her."

"Who the fuck are you and how the hell do you know my name? Yeah, tell her to come to the door right now because I want some answers." Andre's voice was getting a couple of octaves higher and he could feel his emotions boiling over. The white guy left him standing outside. He didn't want to make a scene and have the police called so he waited patiently. He loved Asali. More than any woman he had ever loved before. This was just not happening. No fucking way.

Dressed in a stunning red knit dress that hugged her body but that was still professional, she took his hand and pulled him inside. "Sweetie, I am so sorry. I can explain." In the seconds that had passed, it was clear there were tears in her eyes as well. She stood still, waiting for him to say something. Not letting go of his hand, she led him to the living room and motioned for him to sit down.

"Todd, come here please." The white guy tentatively came out of what was surely a bedroom as the place was exquisitely decorated but very small. The kitchen was a galley kitchen and there was a breakfast bar that appeared to serve as the dining room. In the corner of the living room there was a desk with a desktop computer set up. There was no TV and there didn't seem to be any happy couple pictures of the two of them framed anywhere. Andre was devastated but he waited for the explanation. Todd, wearing the remnants of his business suit from work, stood silently,

"I didn't know how to tell you and I realize now what a mistake it was to keep it from you and I'm so very sorry. Andre this is Todd, Todd Wentley."

"Really? This dude? You are fucking around on me with him? I'm outta here." Andre was emotional and irrational. He got up and Asali cut him off.

"Noooo, it's not like that. It's . . . it's complicated. Let me explain." They sat down on the sofa again, this time, her soft hand covered his. He wanted to pull away he was so disgusted but the part of his brain that adored her wanted this to be all a joke, a terrible, horrible, unbelievable, complex joke where cameras were going to pop out and let him know that he was being pranked. She continued. "I know I should have told you when we first started getting serious but there just didn't seem like a good time. And after a while, I realized that I should have told you in the beginning and then I was just ashamed and embarrassed by the whole situation. I didn't want to lose you and I wasn't ready to give up Todd."

"Oh hell no! I swear to God if you tell me that you love this dude I will lose my mind. Him? Get the fuck outta here! If you want him, you can have him!" He pulled his hand away, devastated.

"Andre! Stop! It's not like that. I own him. He belongs to me." The room fell silent.

The look of confusion on Andre's face was apparent. He sat back down this time and he collected his thoughts for a moment. The silence was deafening but Asali knew him well enough to let him have his space to process. He was aware that she had been a Domme and had dominated white men in the past but he thought that it was just that . . . in the past. Not once did they ever have a conversation about it being in the present. Andre was still shaky but he needed details. He couldn't even fully pay attention; in his head he was trying to figure out how they could go back to the way things were 2 days ago, before he even had a clue that there was a secret love nest.

He took a couple of deep breaths and he queried. "So, this guy is so important to you that you would rather risk our relationship than let him go? Is that how it is? I cut off all my previous relationships when we fell in love." The word love sounded flat and empty to him as it left his lips.

"Listen, it's not how it seems. I've invested a lot of time and energy into him. I've created him to be exactly what I want and need and he's . . . he's exceptional. He's just too valuable an asset to just throw away."

Andre was incensed! "This dude? You're telling me that this white man satisfies you sexually so much so that . . . I'm going to be sick. Where's the bathroom?" Andre's whole world was turning upside down and inside out.

"Stop it! Andre! You have to calm down. Tell him, Todd, tell him what you do for a living."

Todd spoke up softly, trying to help ease the tension in the room. "I work as the Director of Social Media for the Dallas Police Department. Well, that's my official title. In actuality, in secret, I function as a liaison between the media and the community to hold the police accountable when I can verify that they are doing something racist or that there are suspicious circumstances surrounding any incident that involves race that they might try to cover up."

"Right," Andre interjected, "I'm supposed to believe that whitey here is champion for the oppressed black man. Give me two fucking breaks. This bitch doesn't even know what racism means, let alone can he do anything about it. He sold you a bill of goods. What he really means is he deletes comments from their Facebook page that the police don't like. That's his damn job. And how the hell did you get that fucking job in the first place Mr. Black Lives Matter?"

Both Asali and Todd smiled. "Well, I got him the job. He got a divorce slightly after I met him and he needed a fresh start so he moved from Seattle to Dallas and let's just say I know people who got him the job. People with secrets. People in positions of power who don't want their secrets told so the job was created for him at my behest. The fact that he is spying on the cops and making their questionable actions known to the press is our little secret. I promise he's legit. You have to trust me. Todd, tell Andre what racism means."

Todd didn't even hesitate. "Racism is NOT one race not liking another race. Racism is the historic, systematic, and institutionalized oppression of people of color by Caucasians in their efforts to perpetuate the fallacy of white supremacy in order for them to maintain the power structures that allow them to have social, economic, educational, financial, and vocational privileges. People of color cannot be racist. They can be bigoted, they can be biased, but they can't be racist. More importantly, even if Black people are bigoted, it does not hold the same weight, power, and privilege racist white people have."

He had Andre's attention. It took him a full minute to collect his thoughts enough to speak. "OK, OK, so he can repeat what you taught him. Good little monkey. But that doesn't mean that he is really champion for the Black race. I've yet to meet a white man who . . ."

"Quiz him," Asali interrupted. "Pick a topic. Any topic. The Trans-Atlantic Slave trade. The principles of Afrocentricity. White privilege. Slave mentality. He's read Asante, Akbar, Marimba Ani, he can quote John Henrik Clark. He is not just a parrot that can repeat what I've told him. I've trained him, I've shaped him, and I've educated him. That's what I meant by I said he's far too exceptional to let go. Let me explain, please."

Andre sat back on the sofa. He was confused but he wanted some sort of explanation that made sense to him. He nodded.

"When I met Todd two years ago, the best he could do was say, 'Racism isn't fair.' He was of the mindset that if it didn't affect him personally, he didn't have to think about race even though he has only been attracted to Black women for almost all his adult life. I decided to manipulate his sexuality in order to refashion him into exactly what I wanted him to be. I would restrain him, handcuff him to the bed and I would whisper in his ear. I would stroke him, stroke his dick. I would bring him to the brink of orgasm over and over and over again. I reprogrammed his brain. I took the things that he loved, things that aroused him like having his nipples stimulated and I would manipulate them for hours, all the while training and teaching him. I associated his sexual pleasure with the things I wanted him to learn, the things I wanted him to become. He would be out of his mind, crazed with lust, begging for release, and I transformed him into my perfect pet. He will do anything I tell him to do, without question or hesitation. He craves the things that turn me on; craves them as if his life depends on it."

"You have sex with him? Oh, hell no. You have got to be fucking kidding me!"

"No, no, no," she interjected, "that's not it at all. He doesn't really service me sexually, He has never in two years eaten my pussy. He . . . well . . . he services . . . Black men for me. I get off on watching him suck and get fucked. He gets off on it. It's like I said, he craves it."

"Oh, he's gay? Yeah, figures. White boys!"

"Well, not exactly. I suppose you could say that but it's a lot more complex than that. See, well . . . let him explain it to you."

Todd spoke up in his defense again. "I'm attracted to Black women. I will always be attracted to Black women first and foremost. That doesn't mean my sexuality is singular however. I'm not gay. I'm not a sissy. I don't have a need to dress up as a woman to assume a submissive role, I would never demean women in that way. I respect them too much to assert that wearing some heels and some makeup means that I am somehow transformed into a woman. I'm not a woman, I'm a man who is submissive, I'm a man who is bisexual and I enjoy pleasing Black men and I don't have to pretend to be forced in order to do it. I love pleasing my Mistress and it gives me intense pleasure to feel a hard dick explode in my mouth or ass and know that I was able to do that. I love pleasing Black men for her. I love making her proud of me. I experience pleasure from being penetrated, whether it is from her divine strapon, one of my toys, or if it is from one of her lovers. I'm so very grateful that Mistress allows me release but I know that I will never be allowed to pleasure her sexually. I know I'm not deserving of that honor. That is purely the domain of the Black men she allows into her heart as lovers."

Andre coughed and blinked. He knew by now not to over-react and to just listen. He was trying to process it all. He continued looking around the small condo. The bookshelves were packed with hundreds of books on black history, black psychology, and black culture. There was no TV but he figured the computer could be used for streaming media. The complex looked like it had been built in the 60s but the interior had clearly been updated with dark hardwood floors and a semi-open floorplan that would not have been the style a half a century ago. Andre studied Todd, now sitting, who looked nervous but not overly so as he was clearly taking his cues from Asali. In the average Black person's lifetime they NEVER meet a white person who understands and is sympathetic to the issues of race so it would have been easier if someone handed Andre a piece of paper and said, "Here is a Chinese calculus problem solve for 近平"

Todd continued. "Eradicating racism has become my mission in life. Whereas when I first met Mistress, I could distance myself from race, now it consumes every part of my life. I attack racism online every chance I get knowing that for every one person I dismantle, there are thousands of other lurkers there reading and learning like I did. I feel like it's my place to use my energy to combat what my Mistress has had to endure every day of her life."

"Man, this is too much to handle. I'm not sure I can understand everything that is being said. I will give him credit for at least being more knowledgeable about racism than the vast majority of white people but you can't seriously think that he . . . I mean come on . . . wait . . . what? This is all so confusing."

Asali turned to him and lifted his face to hers. "Beloved King. I take full responsibility for your confusion because of my deception. I knew from the minute I met you that I wanted you in my life. I allowed my fears of rejection by you to keep this secret. I was so ashamed of myself for what I considered cheating that I rationalized that I had to lie. Trust me, if it had been any other sub, I would have dismissed them before you and I had our first kiss. Todd is different. Sweetie, he's not just a mimicking what I tell him to say, however, he's come up with his own theories of racism in his efforts to dismantle it. I mean, he blew my mind with his concepts. Honestly, you need to hear him out."

Todd raised his eyebrow signaling he was asking Andre for permission to explain himself. Andre flicked his hand in Todd's general direction, indicating that he had the floor, he had better impress him. "The way I see it, racism permeates every single solitary facet of our society. There is not one single area where it doesn't persist so white people as a rule can't say, 'I'm not racist, I wasn't raised racist,' and all the other rhetoric and clichés they spout when they are trying to silence people of color. Our nation was built on the foundation of racism. There has never been a point in our history, recent or distant, where whites have been forced to collectively address, acknowledge, or heal their racist beliefs so they persists like a cancer. Every childhood book has whites as the heroes. Every TV show shows whites as upstanding and virtuous and saving the day. Magazines show people who look like me as the 100 most beautiful people in the world, the world where we only make up 10% of the population. History books tell us that whites invented everything great when in actuality we stole everything great from people of color; violently stole I might add. School districts are zoned so that whites get the best educations and Blacks get . . . well, you get the idea. No white person can escape the breadth and depth of racism. Racism is the default disease of our society and it has been since whites invaded, stole, and inhabited this nation. Of course, racism had gone rampant and continues to do so with the advent of technology. I've identified four very distinct classes of racism that persist in this country, and this country is vastly different than any other because of its history of slavery and the long-term effects that linger unaddressed."

"First, there are the blatant racists. They are the Klan members, the Neo-Nazi's, the white supremacists. They are the most vocal about hating Black people. They will claim that they are white purists, trying to advance the cause of the white race. They stay isolated from anyone different from themselves but if you go on their computer's you will find gigabytes upon gigabytes of interracial porn. Trust me, I've been in the crime lab when the techs go through their computers, I've seen time and time again that the most staunch racist will have thousands of files of interracial porn on their computers. But no one tells you that. That's the secret that whites get to keep."

"The second group consists of the vast and overwhelming majority of white people in this country. The members of the second group are equally as racist, but they are the most adamant that they are not. They are the ones who troll African American websites telling Black people that they are racist. They believe Blacks are inferior, and they defend whiteness at all costs. They tell the racist jokes at work and get offended if someone catches them. Talk about denial, their own children will be addicted to meth, heroin, and cocaine and they will swear that it's only Blacks who are the criminals. Just look at the internet, look at any porn site. White people abound posting their videos of them doing depraved, perverted, extreme things yet white people will swear that Blacks are the sexual savages, driven by lust. They feel entitled to everything, they think that the world owes them. They come to the defense of any and every white person who is accused of being racist like they know them personally. They swear racism doesn't exist and but they will call a Black person racist in the blink of an eye. Their mantra is, 'Martin Luther King said,' and they always have a Black "friend" who seems to cosign their racism. They mimic conservative talk show hosts and media and they have never once challenged or questioned their own racism or beliefs about race."