The Pleasures of Submission

This is a fictional story and all characters are fictional and not based on real people. All characters are 18 or over. The story does contain some hard core BDSM play and some racial play. If that is not what you enjoy reading, please do not read.

*****

"Who is that white man talking to the curator and the mayor?" Deenisha Jefferson asked her co-worker.

"Girl, you don't know? That's Patrick McDarment." Stephanie replied.

"No, can't be." Deenisha, Dee to her friends, replied and looked across the room once more at the three men. "He is older than that man...least I thought so."

The man Dee was asking about looked to be in early thirties. He stood about six foot two inches tall, his navy blue pin striped suit appeared to be tailored to fit his seemingly athletic body. Dee knew clothes and she knew that suit was not something off the rack and probably cost more than she would see in two months working her two jobs. She thought he was rather attractive with light brown hair cut short in a professional style, "well for an older white man." She thought. Dee was not attracted to white men and surely not attracted to older men.

Another thing that set the white man apart was that he was one of the few white people in the room. Most of the guests for the Harriett Tubman Museum were black, including the mayor.

Dee herself was a young black girl of twenty and she was wearing the formal uniform of the catering company she worked for. White, button down, short sleeve blouse with a black bow tie at her collar; it was a clip on since she did not know how to tie a bow tie. Her black pencil skirt came about four inches above her knees and the fit really accented her butt very well; she wore black thigh high stockings; panty hose were the norm for most of the girls but she hated panty hose, and she wore black three inch high heels.

Stephanie giggled as she handed Dee a serving tray holding some crab puffs. "I swear that's him. Why do you ask?"

Dee took the tray, "Because he keeps looking at me. Not in a pervy way but I just noticed he keeps glancing at me every time I catch his eye."

"Fuck, Dee, every guy I here is looking at you. You are hot and you got it goin on and that skirt makes your ass pop." Stephanie winked at Dee, "Hell, bitch, I thought about hittin that ass myself."

Dee blushed but giggled. She was used to Stephanie's harmless flirtations by now. She liked Stephanie even if Dee thought she was "ghetto", but the ghetto did not bother her, after all Dee herself grew up in the "projects" of Albany, Georgia and most of the girls she knew there and were friends with were "ghetto".

"No it's not like that. It's more like...I don't know...like he is amused by me or something. "Dee commented.

Dee was indeed "hot" and "had it goin on" as Stephanie put it. She stood five feet three inches tall, weighed one hundred and twenty five pounds and curves in all the right places. Her breasts were thirty four B cups; perfect for her height and they were perfectly rounded and perky and slightly curved upwards at her dark nipples. The men she had, had sex with in the past seemed to find that very sexy. Her waist was thin, but it was her ass that men and even some women like Stephanie really liked about her physical features. Her hips were not extremely wide at thirty four inches, but her she had a nice bubble to her butt that when seen from the side stuck out some. There was no sag to her ass and it was nice and tight. Dee's legs were very nicely shaped with slightly thicker thighs than white girls her size plus they just seemed to enhance the allure of her butt. Dee's thirty four, twenty four, thirty four figure attracted a lot of attention.

Besides her body, her face drew a lot of attention also. Dee was a very lovely looking young black girl with a rich coco skin tone and flawless smooth complexion. She had almond shaped eyes that were a dark brown in color and surrounded by thick long lashes. Her brothers used to tease her about her nose and lips when she was younger, calling it a white person's nose because it was small and thin and her lips were naturally pouty. Tonight at work she wore her kinky, curly, black hair down. It fell several inches past her shoulders and was all natural, Dee did not do hair extension and her perfectly manicured nails were real. Yes, with her lovely face, her blemish free complexion, and her body; Dee attracted looks of admiration from all races. Dee was truly a beautiful young girl of color.

Stephanie snatched the Hors d'oeuvres tray from Dee and handed her a tray holding filled Champagne flutes. "He looks like he needs a refill. Take these over and let him see your goods. The man is worth a fortune and maybe he is in the market for a sexy, black sugar baby."

Dee blushed again, "I don't need money bad enough to fulfil some older white man's fetish of being with a black girl regardless of how much money he has."

Stephanie laughed, "Yeah you do. You need to pay for that fancy college somehow. Plus he ain't that bad looking. He is very attractive and from what they write about him he exercises a lot and does all kinds of physical activities." Stephanie winked, "He may surprise you in bed, he is not that old and won't need Viagra for a lot more years."

"Ewww." Dee made a face and walked over to the man who was the subject of their conversation; carrying the serving tray.

Dee brought the tray to the three men. The two black men, the mayor and the curator, took their glasses and both roamed their eyes up and down Dee's body; that did not upset Dee; she was used to such looks by most men especially black men. White men looked at her with that same look also but they were more discreet with it because Dee was not some light skinned black girl that white men would openly stare at without being judged by their friends. Patrick on the other hand looked into Dee's eyes without them running up and down her body and smiled at her.

"Thank you, young lady."

"Yes thank you." The Mayor muttered and went back to his conversation with the curator.

"You are welcome, sir." Dee said politely as her job required and walked away blushing.

She did not blush at the other two men's looks but how Patrick stared into her eyes with his deep piercing blue eyes. It annoyed her that he made her blush for no reason and it irritated her how he looked at her several times that night. It was not a look of lust; that she knew from men, but like he was summing her up. She decided she did not care too much for Patrick McDarment at all.

Hours later after the fund raiser was over and Dee helped clean up she was standing in front of the museum leaning against the wall with her bow tie off and holding her heels in her hands. Her feet hurt and she wanted to get home but her roommate was late in picking her up. Dee's own car was once again in the shop and as she thought about how many hours of overtime she would have to work at her second job to pay for it her anger at her roommate grew. She started to type yet another text to her roommate.

"Do you need a ride?" A male voice startled her and she dropped her shoes.

Dee looked over and saw Patrick standing at the entrance to the museum. "Umm...no." She replied and bent down to pick up her shoes and got one but before she could pick up the other shore Patrick bent over and picked it up and handed it to her.

"Thank you."

"My pleasure. Are you sure you don't need a ride?"

Dee looked at him and he had his suit jacket off and slung over his shoulder and his tie loosened. He was smiling at her and Dee thought he had a very nice smile and his teeth were white and perfectly straight. She felt her irritation for him stir once more.

"My grandmother taught me not to accept rides with strangers." Dee told him curtly.

Patrick laughed a deep manly laugh. "Or candy either I imagine. My mother taught me the same thing when I was five, but I was not offering to drive you myself. I called an Uber because I had too much Champagne and the driver could drop you off after he dropped me off or vice versa depending where you live." He then grinned at Dee, "But then again I suppose technically if you took a ride from an Uber you would be taking a ride from a stranger."

Dee giggled despite herself and then sobered up quickly. She liked Patrick's southern accent, it was not that strong twangy accent of the white boys from her home town in Albany or deeper accent of the whites in Macon where she currently lived and went to school. His accent was more subtle and flowed like honey, the accent of the coastal part of the state; the Low Country.

"See that's the smile." He told her.

"Excuse me?" Dee's voice held a hint of anger. She could feel the white man's arrogance in the air.

"Your smile just now was natural and nice unlike the way you smiled all night when you were working. Those were forced. You have a very nice smile, Deenisha."

"How did you know my name?" Dee asked, her irritation ever growing.

Patrick gave her a cocky smile and tapped his left breast with his right hand, "Name tag." He told her.

Dee blushed as she looked at her chest and saw her name tag. "Oh." The young black girl felt embarrassed and Dee did not like to be embarrassed.

"Mr. McDarment...oh yes I know your name also...I don't know what you want from me, why you were staring at me all night but whatever the reason I am not interested. I don't date or hook up with white men or older men in general." Dee told him. "I don't just do hook ups anyway either. I am not that type of girl."

Patrick laughed again and Dee knew he was laughing at her and that aroused her anger even more. She wished her roommate would hurry up and get arrive so she could get away from this attractive, arrogant, rich, man who for some reason annoyed her.

"Well that's good to know that you are a young lady with moral standards but I am not interested in a hook up either and I have never dated a black girl or a girl much younger than me. I was just offering someone who appeared needed a ride some help." Patrick's voice held no anger and was calm and even amused sounding and that tone just infuriated Dee even more. "And I was not starring at you all night as you say and if you thought I was then it was a figment of your imagination or maybe even wishful thinking." He gave her that irritating cocky smile.

"And just what is wrong with black girls that you don't want to date them?" Dee asked and immediately regretted it.

Patrick laughed once more at her, "I could ask you the same question about white men." He raised an eyebrow at her, "but I won't. We will just agree that we both have our own preference when it comes to dating."

"You call it preference but maybe there is a better term for it. Maybe you don't date black girls because you think being white makes you too good to date black girls."

"Why, Deenisha, are you calling me a racist?" Patrick asked, again amused at the pretty young black girl.

Dee was about to respond and even get angry at the man, even though she knew her anger was unjustified, but he just made her mad for some reason. She did not really mean to imply her was racist; she did not even know the man. Dee was not a type of girl to judge people based on the color of their skin and unlike some of her friends and family she was not really into any of the current social movements or very political. The man just infuriated her for a reason she could not explain; plus she was tired having worked her first job that day and then her catering job. A sound of a car horn saved her from any other embarrassment and she was relieved to see her roommate pull up.

"Excuse me, my ride is here."

Dee left the white man waiting for his Uber.

As tired as she was, Dee could not sleep even after a hot shower. She tossed and turned in her bed thinking of how she embarrassed herself with Patrick. He consumed her thoughts and that made her angry at him even more although he did nothing wrong. Maye she did imagine he was looking at her all night. Maybe it was just her imagination. All he did was offer her help.

"Grrr...fuck him!" She said aloud and tossed her bed covers off her body and got out of bed.

Dee got out of bed, picked up her lap top from the small desk in her room, and got back in bed. She used her pillows to prop herself up against her head board and did a google search for "Patrick McDarment".

She of course knew a little about him; most everyone did especially if you went to Mercer University in Macon, Georgia as she did. He was a graduate from the private college and one of its largest financial supporters and most famous alumni. There was even a building named after him in the engineering department. She turned her attention to the Wikipedia page about him.

There was very little on his early life; just a small paragraph reading he was born in Savannah, Georgia and joined the Marine Corps at age eighteen. The section on his military career was also brief; reading he served during the second Gulf War, fought in the Second Battle of Fallujah, received the Navy Cross for valor in combat and a Purple Heart for being wounded in combat, impressive Dee thought. She continued to read; after he got out of the Marine Corps Patrick attended Mercer University in Macon, Georgia to attend their engineering school. While still a student he invented several apps for smart phones and sold them for a great deal of money, but his notoriety came when he invented an app he sold to the government for a huge sum of money. Patrick graduated with a degree in software engineering but instead furthering his education after being offered acceptance in several notable engineering schools across the country; Patrick started his own company. He became a very successful in several areas of business and engineering. Dee let out a long whistle when she read about his estimated financial worth. He was certainly an elite one percenter.

Dee found it odd that in his "personal life" section there was no mention of him dating or having a girlfriend because even though he was white he was a handsome man; "Maybe he is gay," she thought. She next looked images of him at various functions and events and the only photos she saw of him with a female was a tall very pretty blonde woman about his age. "Well there goes the gay theory", she thought. That must be his girlfriend. Dee yawned and closed her lap top and finally fell asleep.

Four days later, on a Wednesday, Dee was in the living area of her two bedroom apartment she shared with her roommate/sorority sister Felicia watching television and eating a bowl of cereal to kill tome before she had to go to work. It took her two days to get over her irritation of the white man. Her cell phone chimed and she picked it up without bothering to look at the caller ID.

"Hello."

"Deenisha, this is Patrick McDarment. I am going to be at the Decadent at Mercer Village in about twenty minutes. You know it?"

"Yes." Dee said without thinking. The Decadent was a coffee and dessert bar that was trendy for Mercer students.

"Be there; I have something I would like to discuss with you." Patrick told her.

Dee could not help but notice he was not asking but telling her and his gall and arrogance once again aroused her anger.

"I have to be at work in a little over an hour. Sorry, can't be there." She told him curtly.

She heard him chuckle, "Sure you can. Call in sick. Work is what I want to discuss. I have a job offer for you and if you don't take it I will make up for any lost pay you will miss for skipping work today. I will triple it."

"And what if I get fired?"

Again he chuckled at her, "They won't fire you. You are the only black waitress at Hooters; they would not dare fire you for missing one day. But in the small chance they do; I'll take care of it."

"How...how did you know I worked at Hooters?" Dee asked, stunned and a little scared this man may be stalking her; she was also a little embarrassed. Dee did not like many people knowing she worked at Hooters but a job was a job and she made great tips.

"I will be there in fifteen minutes now. I don't like tardiness." Patrick told her and hung up.

"Fuck him!" She said screamed a lot. "Who the fuck does this son of a bitch, cracker, white mother fucker think he is!" Her ghetto was coming out of her as it did some times when she was very mad or overly excited. She hated when it did.

Dee took a deep breath to calm down. She looked at the time on her phone. "Fuck!" She screamed again. From her apartment on Orange Street in downtown Macon, she could be at the coffee house in about eight to ten minutes, but she would not have time for makeup or to do her hair.

"Mother fucker!" She yelled again and quickly got up and changed out of her lounge pants and clean but stained comfortable tee shirt into a pair of jean shorts and much nicer tee shirt that was pink and had her sorority letters AKA across the front. She gathered her hair up into ponytail that made the hair tight and straight against her scalp and then fizzed out her kinky hair into a busy tail after the hair tie. She wrote a quick note to her roommate that added if her body was found in a dumpster have the police question Patrick McDarment; she was only half joking. Dee put the note on the refrigerator and slipped on a pair of sandals, grabbed her car keys, phone, and purse and left her apartment.

Dee started her car and gave a silent prayer of thanks that it started. The mechanic at the shop told her the day before when she picked it up that her car was on its last leg. On the drive she thought why she was meeting this asshole and deiced it was curiosity. They were meeting in a public place so she really was not scared. On the drive over she called her manager and told him she would not be coming in toady. He got mad and threatened to fire her, but Patrick was right; he did not fire her. Plus it was a Wednesday and they would not be overly busy.

Dee made it to the coffee house in six minutes. She found a good parking space in the side lot; school had just started their summer break so Mercer Village was not very crowded. Most of the people there were locals and not students. As she walked down the sidewalk past the other shops and restaurants, Dee drew looks from men and she regretted grabbing the first set of clothes she could get her hands on. He shorts were not to short but that were short enough to show off upper thighs and tight around her butt and her tee shirt was maybe too tight. Even without make up she knew she was pretty.

Dee had a natural beauty to her and she wore very little makeup; only enough to enhance her looks. At times she used heavy makeup for the right occasions; clubbing, social events where she wanted to look extra nice, on dates etc. She smiled as she saw two white teenage boys looking at her body and saw them talking to one another after they admired her and giggle when she walked by a young white couple and the man looked at her ass and the girl he was with slapped his on the shoulder for it.

Dee was not a vain person at all, but like most people she enjoyed that others found her attractive and she knew her ass could fill a pair of pants or shorts to perfection. As she stepped into the coffee shop she was now glad she wore the clothes she had on. "Show that white son of a bitch how good black girls can look. Fuck him and his 'I don't date black girls bullshit'!" She thought. "Will be good to let that arrogant bastard to see what he can't have. He fucking knows he wants it. Work my ass, he thinks just cause he is some rich white fucker he can get this. Well fuck him."

Dee sat down at a table and calmed herself down. She did not want to get all worked up and let her ghetto attitude come out. She wanted to show him that she was a proper young black lady just like her grandmother taught her to be.