My name is Laverna Johnson. I'm a partner at a NYC law firm. A Black BBW 6'3 250 pounds. I believe in Black Supremacy and female superiority. This is my story about how I enslaved the white office boy, made him my possession and property. Then married him, changing him into my submissive white bitch.
My name is Larry Fischer, I was an office boy at the law firm where Ms. Johnson was a partner. I'm short and slender. 5'6 135 pounds. This is my story about how I was seduced into slavery by a big strong Black BBW who made me her property and eventually married me making me her submissive white bitch bride.
I was standing over Larry in my big walk in shower. At my command Larry had begged me to piss on his face and be allowed to drink my pee. To be used as my toilet bowl. I told him to jerk off while drinking my piss and he now lay in a puddle of my pee, face and hair soaked with it, and a gob of his cum on his chest. He thanked me for it.
At that moment when he said, "Thank you." I knew that my original plan of using him for a month or two before tossing him back into his office boy life was out the window. He was too good. Too perfect. I wanted him. Wanted him forever. I was going to marry the boy.
Now I know that sounds crazy. Although I had know Larry for nearly a year at work, he was just an office boy and I hardly noticed him until I saw him fumbling but unable to find the courage to ask my Black Secretary, Tina, out on a date. It was obvious he wanted to ask, and she made it obvious she'd say yes if asked, but he couldn't pull the trigger. That pissed her off. It would have pissed me off too, except I knew and understood his type. A white boy attracted to Black women, but also afraid of us.
Today had been our first and only sexual encounter, and it would have struck me as crazy to even consider marriage except...except that something weird and strange was going on. Somehow I just knew that he was perfect for me. There was an unexplainable connection with him. Unexplainable, but real nevertheless. Perhaps it was just fate. I was fated to be his owner. Perhaps he had been my slave in a former life. An image of a white explorer captured by an African tribe 300 years ago and forced to serve their Queen popped into my head. Nonsense, right? But something was there. I wondered if he felt the same way about me. I intended to find out, but either way I was going to totally enslave this white boy, addict him to my ass and piss, marry him and make him by submissive white bitch bride...forever.
I was laying in a puddle of Mistress Johnson's piss. She had made me beg her to use me as a toilet bowl, and I did. She was being so nice to me and even let me have sexual pleasure from jerking off while she pissed on my face. When I thanked her for that she seemed pleased. Her piss was delicious and intoxicating. I wanted more, but realized she wouldn't have more to give for a while, and that disappointed me. I wanted her to spit on me, but didn't dare ask.
Mistress Johnson had opened my eyes to the fact that all my life, deep down inside, I understood that the Black race was the superior race and that men were inferior to women. That deep within me was a desire to be enslaved by a superior Black woman in a relationship that freed us both from the burden of pretending we were equal, when we clearly were not. Her words were truth, and I knew it, but I would never have guessed until a few hours ago that I'd be begging a Black woman to allow me to drink her piss and be happy when she granted my wish, and disappointed when she had none left to give me.
What sort of person craves that sort of humiliation? The odd thing was that I didn't feel humiliated at all. Humiliation is when someone does something to you that they have no right to do. Something you don't want them to do, but are powerless to prevent. As a superior Black woman Mistress Johnson had every right to piss on me, spit on me, make me lick her asshole on command. I wanted to do these things not only because she deserved them, but to show my love and that I understood she was better than me and accepted and embraced her superiority.
I didn't want her to stop, I wanted more.
Now it would be crazy to expect someone to reach that conclusion after only a few hours, but yet I had. There was some sort of weird unexplainable connection with her going on. Weird and unexplainable, but very real. Somehow I just knew she was perfect for me and that I would be very happy being her property. Perhaps I was her slave in a former life? An image of an explorer being captured and enslaved by an African Queen hundreds of year ago popped into my mind. Nonsense...right? But something was there. It's hard to explain, but it just felt natural and right when she pissed on me. The way things were supposed to be. Should be. Like I had been born for her to piss on, and she born to piss on me. She couldn't possibly feel that way about me. She was just very dominant but nice. Still, I couldn't help thinking about how happy I'd be if the absurd idea, that had just popped into my mind, of being married to her were to come to pass.
We took a shower and I told him he was staying the night. He licked me to another orgasm. How many was that? Four? Five? I had lost count. I took him in my arms and we fell asleep.
I woke up the next morning and discovered we had shifted positions in our sleep. Larry's face was between by big titties. He was still asleep and he looked so happy and content that I just kept still and enjoyed watching him lay there. I could feel his stiff cock pressing against my belly. "Damn," I thought, "he gets hard in his sleep. Maybe, just maybe, he can keep up with my sexual drive."
Larry woke up and I stuck one of my breasts in his mouth. "Suck that titty white boy," I commanded.
"Yes Goddess," he replied.
Goddess? I had instructed him to call me Mistress Johnson, not Goddess. Now I have several dominant woman friends, they would have gotten angry, or pretended to have gotten angry and punished their slave for disobeying them. I'm not like that. I don't look for excuses to make my slave miserable. I want him to be happy. Sure, I want him respectful, worshipful, totally submissive, but not mindless. I like being surprised by unexpected displays of devotion and submission. Not a slave who does nothing unless told to do it. That's tedious and boring. I want a slave that thinks of new ways to worship his owner. Calling me Goddess was respectful and acknowledged his inferiority to me. Besides, being a Goddess was a step up from being a Mistress. I was pleased, not angry with the boy. ]
"Larry," I asked gently.
"Yes, Mistress Johnson," he said, now fully awake and reverting to the Mistress Johnson title.
" Larry, a minute ago you called me Goddess. Am I your Goddess?" He hesitated probably just realizing what he had said and fearful that I might be angry at him. Silly boy.
Finally he said, "Well yes. You are a superior being, so I suppose that makes you a Goddess, and I would very much like you to be my Goddess. I'm sorry I didn't address you properly as Mistress Johnson. Please forgive me."
I kissed him on the nose. "Precious white slave, there is nothing to forgive. Mistress Johnson is merely one of the acceptable titles by which you can address me. The important thing is that they show respect, and demonstrate you know and understand that I an superior to you. Goddess does that quite nicely. So would things like Queen Laverna, or simply my owner.
My Mistress, Queen, Goddess and owner was so nice. I had been half asleep when she ordered me to suck one of her big beautiful breasts and I had called her 'goddess'. I suppose I was expressing a desire to worship her, but had not been instructed to use that form of address. I quickly apologized, but rather than get angry, she was pleased. Later I understood that she didn't want us following a script in which every response was dictated and always the same. She wanted my submission to her authority, my admission that she was superior to me and I inferior to her, and my acceptance of her right to own me, but she wanted it in my own words, not hers. She wanted my submission to be honest and sincere, not scripted.
That excited me. It made things more real. We weren't just actors playing a roll. We were real people expressing real feelings and honest beliefs. I think that was the moment I realized I was in love with her. She removed her breast from my mouth and told me to follow her.
"Yes, Queen Laverna," I said as I obeyed.
I was enjoying Larry sucking on my tit and felt my nipple growing hard, but it was morning and I needed to piss an take a crap. I gut up and had Larry follow me to the bathroom. He called me "Queen Laverna" and it pleased me that he understood that I didn't want him giving me scripted responses.
I had him get on his knees tilt his head back, and open his mouth. I then straddled his face and pissed in his mouth. I didn't hold back and was pleased to see that he was able to swallow almost every drop. He was going to be a world class toilet bowl for me and I was pleased.
