The First White Wives Club Ch 01

The First White Wives Club

Chapter One: Megan On a Sunday...And Then Some

Sunday 9:47am: Holy shit, that's the time? God, I feel awful. Ok, I can hear cartoons in the background. Thank God the kids let us sleep in. Wait, is he...? Gone. Husband must be out for a ride. Wow, as hangovers go, this one's up there. I should just go back to sleep.

Fuck! I fucked a black man last night! Oh god, it's all coming back to me. What the hell was I thinking? It was that party last night, to welcome the new black couple into the neighborhood. They seem so nice. A pair of young professionals, mid-thirties. He's a doctor. I don't remember what she is, didn't much care really. I'd always wondered what a black man felt like. Fourteen years of white married suburban sex really can make one wonder. I'm only 36. I've still got most of my figure, thanks to the treadmill. My dirty blonde hair may not go down to my ass anymore, but a manageable little bob suits someone of my maturity.

And there we were, just hanging out on the fringes together. He was so kind, refreshing my drink. It had been so long since I'd flirted with anyone, and felt that tingle. He took me next door to his place, looked me in the eye in his kitchen and said, "You want to know what black dick feels like."

I'm sure I blushed. Did I spit out my drink on his carpet?

"I can always tell that look", he said, "Especially in you white suburban wives. It burns in you from the moment you lay eyes on us until the moment we do something about it. "

He let it hang like that, didn't he, that nice doctor? That nice black doctor, with that big black dick burning a hole in his pants. Waiting to burn a hole in my pants.

It didn't take long to remedy that situation. That black doctor had me on the floor of his kitchen in no time. It was uncomfortable, but oh so good. Big black dick feels so good ramming in and out of one's married white cunt. BBC tastes so good on the tongue, much better than old white married dick, which lost its taste how many years ago? It was a mistake. I'll never do it again.

Sunday 2:13pm: God, my ass hurts. Is it the hangover, or stiffness from being fucked on a bare floor? Eh, what's it matter? I'm just glad husband took the kids to the game. I really need this afternoon to myself.

A text? From the black doctor? How did he get my number? His wife's out for the afternoon. He's horny. No, I can't. It was a mistake. Nothing is worth risking my marriage. Another text. A picture of his bed. Says my butt probably needs a nice massage after being drilled on that cold hard floor. He could give me that massage on the bed. Nope, not gonna do it.

Sunday 2:32pm: Boy, is this a mistake. What am I doing here at his back door? Pretty sure no one saw me. Who am I kidding? I can't help it. I want to suck the juice out of that big black dick again. Oh good, the doors opening, he...what the fuck!?!

Sunday 2:34pm: I'm sitting in the black doctor's living room...with his wife! She's quite the photographer. Apparently she spied on us last night, and documented the whole thing. Printouts of our escapade on her kitchen floor are taped up on the walls around us. She points to one of me gagging on that big black cock.

"I'm particularly fond of that one. Really brings out the green in your eyes. No doubt who it is in that shot, is it?"

"I'm sorry. Really sorry. How much money to make this go away?"

"Please. My husband is a plastic surgeon in LA. I'm a practicing psychologist. We'll earn more in the next five years than you'll ever see. No, I want to ruin your life. I can just imagine how your husband would react to seeing these. And what if they went public?"

"Please! Please! You can't! He'll divorce me; take the kids, throw me out of my own house! You can't..."

SLAP!

The injured black wife just stood up, calmly walked over, and slapped me in the face, hard.

"Shut up."

"But..."

"I said shut up!"

Another SLAP!

I'm whimpering, but I follow her instruction. She continues to stand over me.

"I may not ruin your life...if you play ball with me."

"Anything...anything."

"Good. I'm guessing you drop your kids off at school around 8-8:30 in the morning. Probably do some boring housewife shit after that, since your husband wears the pants in the family."

"I...I usually go out for coffee with a few of the..."

"Not anymore you don't. Be here at my back door at 8:45am sharp. Not a second later. And then we'll begin."

"Begin what?"

"8:45. Sharp."

Monday 8:43am: I'm not taking any chances with this psycho witch-docteress. Is that racist? Sue me. I'm seriously freaked out here. Didn't get more than an hour's sleep last night. What the hell does she want from me? The door opens.

"Enter."

I follow her through her kitchen. She lingers a little and gives me a look as she walks over the spot where her husband fucked me on the floor. Damn, she's wearing heels. White. Spotless, too. Who wears heels at this time of morning? They go well with her white dress. She leads me into the living room. The photos are down at least. She points to a mat on the floor in front of the couch.

"Kneel on that."

I have no idea what's going on, but I kneel. The injured black wife sits directly in front of me. She leans forward and stares me up and down.

"Damn. Why do they always have to look like shit? Look at the bags under your eyes. Let me guess, tossing and turning, maybe an hour of sleep, right?"

Then she leans back and crosses her legs. That spotless white hell is inches from my face.

"Your training begins."

"Wait, what? Training? What the hell is that?"

"You are my new sex slave."

OH-MI-GOD! That is the craziest thing I have ever heard.

Panic time!

"I can't...I can't...this is crazy...I'm not a freak...I won't..."

The injured black wife leans over, grabs my hair, and slaps the shit out of me.

"Shut up, before I really give you something to cry about."

Tears running down my face. Am I hyperventilating? In shock?

"Look at me" she says as she grips my hair and looks me straight in the eye, "look at me!"

A moment passes as I just stare into those hard eyes. I think my breathing is getting under control.

"Okay, we good now?"

I look down. She lets go of me and sits back on the couch.

"You took it upon yourself to fool around with my man, and now you're going to deal with the consequences. I am a domme. That is short for dominant. Dominatrix if you like. I train sex slaves into serving my needs. I specialize in turning out married white suburban bitches like yourself. Your kind makes for the best slaves in my experience."

"Wait" I choke out, "you're a lesbian?"

The injured black wife just about collapses in laughter.

"Wow, are you a quick study! No genius, I'm bi. You've noticed I'm married to a dude, right? You've been tapped by that cock. I'd be crazy not to service that thing regularly."

She leans down, tilts my chin up, and looks me in the eye again.

"But I've got other needs, that he can't help with."

A moment. Then I cut and run. I stand up really fast and leg it out of there. I'm lucky she just lets my hair slip through her fingers. No way I'm staying, so she could have easily ended up with a chunk of my hair. I may be panicking, but I haven't lost it completely. I run back out the kitchen, past the scene of my crime, through the back door, through the gate connecting our yards, and into my back door, which I lock. Chances are no one saw me. I'm safe.

Monday 3:20pm: What a crazy morning. Took a few shots of tequila to settle my nerves afterwards. At least I got some time on the treadmill later to center me. Now that I've had time to take stock, I'm not as freaked out. Most likely that nutty so-called psychologist will be too embarrassed to ever bring this up again. I'm on snacks now. It's Maraliese's day for school car-pool. The kids should be home any...what the fuck?

It's that crazy black psychologist, walking up my front steps in her white heels and matching white dress, carrying a file folder. She makes eye contact with me through the kitchen window, maintains it all the way up to the front door. No way I'm letting her in. Wait, I hear something being taped to the door, and...she's walking back, without the file folder! Looking me in the eye with a really evil smile too.

I rush to get that folder off the door before the kids get home. I pour out the contents: that oh-so-flattering blow-up of me gorging myself on that black cock, with a letter, and a prescription bottle.

The letter reads:

Dear White Sex Slave,

See how easy I could bring it all crashing down for you? I know when your kids get home. But more importantly, I know when your husband gets home. Now, take exactly 30 seconds to look away from this letter and absorb your new reality before reading on.

I do what she says. I look up, count to 30, and get back to reading

Good. You're mine. You belong to me know, and for all intents and purposes you are my personal property. Your days as a free woman are over until and unless I free you one day. Take heart, you're in for a whole lot of new experiences, which I think you will adapt to quite well, with my guidance.

You will be at my back door at exactly 8:45am tomorrow morning. And none of this 8:43 nonsense. When I say 8:45, I mean 8:45. If I ever catch you trying to game the system like that again, I will...well, you're going to see what I do when I am dis-respected, don't you worry.

The prescription bottle contains Ambien. Take one-quarter tablet tonight at 10:30pm. I need you rested and alert for your training. Oh, and put some fucking makeup on! You need to look good for your Mistress, you white whore.

Sincerely,

Your Black Mistress.

Tuesday 8:45am: I wait behind my gate, and time it so that I am at her door at 8:45am precisely. Thank God for that Ambien. Between that and coffee to counteract it this morning, I'm somewhat back to normal. The door opens. She wears a black kimono, tied around her waist, and shiny black heels. As for me...

"Jeans and a Alanis Morrisette tee, really?"

She grabs me by the hair and pulls me in, and points to a plastic storage tray on a shelf by the door.

"Clothes go there. Folded. Do it quickly."

I strip as fast as possible, fold my clothes, and place them in the tray while she watches, very attentively.

"Now, on your knees, hands behind your head."

I obey. She picks up a black studded dog collar and leash, bends down, and fastens it around my neck. It feels rough. It's a little tight.

"This is a dog collar. I bought it at Petsmart. I don't let slaves wear those fancy collars you get in sex stores. What I need them to feel, they only feel with a real dog collar around their necks. Now, hands and knees, eyes on the floor.

I can't believe this. I actually get down on my hands and knees like a dog. She starts walking, and the leash is pulled taught. I have no choice but to crawl after her on my hands and knees like a pet. She leads me to a black padded mat in the living room in front of her couch.

"Stay."

I stay put on it.

"Up on your knees, hands behind your head."

I obey. She stands in front of me now.

"Remove my kimono for me. Fold it carefully, and present it to me."

I reach up to remove the kimono, which thankfully falls off her shoulders easily, so that I don't have to stand up. I'm not sure if I'm allowed to yet. I fold it as best I can and present it to her with both hands. I then get an eyeful of her, uh, outfit.

My new Mistress wears a dark black leather corset, that doesn't cover either her tits or her lower region. Her tits, ass, and vagina are there for me to see. My new Mistress takes the kimono and places it on the couch. It looks as if it's color coordinated, as it perfectly compliments her dark brown skin. She pulls on my leash a little, and runs her other hand along my cheek and through my hair. Then she sits down on the couch directly in front of me, still holding the leash.

"Do you know anything about what we're doing?"

"Is this that Fifty Shades shit?"

"Sort of. Did you read it? You're sort of the target audience."

"No. I struggled through the first movie on a girl's night out. Didn't do much for me."

"Me either. That's like G-rated S&M. This is the real deal that we're doing. You are going to submit to me fully; in ways that you never dreamed you could submit to another human being. And what's more, you're going to like it. Know how I can tell?"

"No, how?"

"I've turned plenty of you white married ladies before. You're all secretly dying to submit to a goddess of color like myself. You usually just don't know it yet. But a few weeks, maybe a month or two in, you turn. You always do. And then you never go back."

"If you say so."

Oops, wrong thing to say. My new Mistress yanks the leash and slaps my cheek, hard.

"You know what? You're free to go. Go on, take the collar off, get your clothes on, leave."

Yeah, right. I know where this leads back too.

"Of course, you do that, I have a conversation with your husband. Bet he'll have a conversation with you then. Wonder if he'd have the guts to have a conversation with my husband? That could be real interesting."

Yeah, I'm fucked. This is my life now, for the moment. I stay put.

"Good. Glad to see we do have an understanding. I see we need to establish the rules. Fine, here it is. I am your Mistress. I have a bit of a racial kink, so you will always address me as Black Mistress. You will only speak when spoken to. When answering a question, you will say "yes, Black Mistress", or "no, Black Mistress." Is that clear?"

I can't believe I'm about to say this.

"Yes, Black Mistress."

"Good. You are my personal sex slave. You follow commands precisely and without hesitation. You fuck up in even the slightest, and you are punished. It'll seem hard at first, but you'll get the hang of your subservience to me. You'll even grow to like it. Slaves like you always thrive under my direction. Is this all understood?"

Is she kidding? My mind is swimming with all this perverted shit.

"Yes, Black Mistress."

"Excellent. I have very kinky and perverted sexual needs, and you will attend to them all with enthusiasm. Since I like the racey shit, you will officially answer to White Sex Slave in this house. If that is understood, tell me who you are."

"I am your White Sex Slave, Black Mistress."

"This is going so much better than yesterday, isn't it? Now onto your duties and schedule. We are going to start you off on five mornings a week, because we need to get you up to speed. You will let yourself in through the back door at 8:45am exactly, strip, fold your clothes, and put them in your assigned storage container. Your collar and leash will be on the counter. You will put them on and assume your morning position on your hands and knees on the very same spot where my husband fucked you. If I wish to add anything to your ensemble, I will place it with the collar and leash. Getting all this, White Sex Slave?"

"Yes, Black Mistress."

"I will enter at my leisure, and lead you to whatever duties I have decided on for the day. You will be lead by the leash, and crawl on your hands and knees. We will be working on crawling etiquette, positions, and commands like heel. Although your official name is now White Sex Slave, you will also answer to anything else I wish to call you. Slaves to me are cunts, whores, sluts, bitches, you know, all the usual stuff. Maybe we can come up with something new together. Are you my personal cunt, white bitch?"

"Yes, Black Mistress."

"You will lick my pussy, feet, ass, tits, whatever I command. You will be fucked with strap-ons, and clean them with your mouth. Have you ever been butt-fucked?"

I can't believe it. After all this, I blush?

"No, Black Mistress, I have never had anal sex."

"Wouldn't let your husband stick it up there, eh? I'll bet he sure tried, didn't he? That's okay; sluts like you just need the right teacher. And for the record, it's not "anal sex" when you're an owned white cunt like yourself. Bitches like you get butt-fucked, or ass-fucked, or things like that. Okay, let's start slowly. How much pussy experience do you have?

"Um, none, Black Mistress."

"Oh, for the love of—"

Black Mistress yanks me over to her, and forces my face down into her crotch.

"Get to work, White Sex Slave. Luckily for you, I cum pretty quickly with new slave meat. But if I don't have my first orgasm in ten minutes, it's the whip for you."

Whip!?! Yikes. I hope I don't suck at this. Hmm, vagina tastes better than I expected. Not great, but better than I thought it would be. The smell will take some getting used to. It's not overpowering, like I've heard before. Her hygiene is excellent, thank God. I should probably take a peak in her shower, maybe get a few product tips. Very nice wax job. Soooooo smooth.

22 Minutes Later: I finally got her off. Wasn't easy. According to her it took fourteen minutes. I have no way of knowing. It's not like I could look at a watch down there. She had to use her hand to help bring herself off, and she's not happy with that. After she's cum a few more times, she rests for a while with my face pressed into her sweaty crotch. Then she yanks me up by the hair.

"Kneel on the couch, with your back facing out to me. Spread your legs, and grab your ankles. Don't you dare let go of them."

I obey. What a position.

"Good. Keep your head down. You get ten strokes for every minute you went over. How many strokes is that, White Sex Slave?"

"Forty Strokes, Black Mistress."

Whack!

"Ahhhh!"

"Good. I like listening to white bitches scream."

Oh-mi-fucking...the pain is nearly unbearable. She whips the shit out of my poor ass with a leather riding crop. I don't disappoint her with the screaming. It actually helps to keep a grip on my ankles. I really dig into them, however.

When it's finally done, Black Mistress caresses my very tender ass. Then she climbs up on the couch and presses into me. She explores my neck and my face with her tongue, and reaches down to my vagina with her hand.

"Let me show you what a knowledgeable woman can accomplish."

4 Minutes Later: How the hell did she do that? She brought me from zero to a gazillion in nothing flat. I'm a mewling, moaning, screaming, squirting mess of orgasm in her hands. She practically bites a chunk out of my neck on the last one. Maybe there's something to all this slave shit after all. It seems sort of rapey and all blackmail at first, but I've never cum from straight sex like this in my life. Even the BBC wasn't this good.

After I'm done, Black Mistress supervises while I clean her leather couch. First I lick it clean. Then I really clean it with her cleaning supplies. She says she could put a cover down, but she likes the feel of leather against slave flesh.

Black Mistress has to get to work now. She has a psych client scheduled in a half hour. But I am bound to stay here until 2:20. I get exactly one hour to pull myself together for when the kids come home from school. Black Mistress leads me to a large dog cage in the kitchen. She has me lick her feet in gratitude, and then into the cage I go. It's cramped, but padded with a nice doggy pillow. I'm exhausted, and doze off while she listens to somebody else's problems in her private office. She keeps me in there until precisely 2:20pm. I am then a relatively free white woman until 8:45 the next morning. This is my life now. For a night of BBC, I am now a White Sex Slave for my Black Mistress.

Black Mistress, writing in her journal that night:

Well, that takes care of Monday. Need to find my Tuesday now.

Next Chapter: If It's Tuesday, This Must Be Maraliese.