She Bullied Me

A 750 word story of dominance and submission

Mille Dynamite

© Copyright 2025 by Millie Dynamite

NOTE:

This work contains material not suitable for anyone under eighteen (18) or those of a delicate nature. This is a story and contains descriptive scenes of a graphic, sexual nature. This is a work of fiction. Unless otherwise indicated, all the names, characters, businesses, places, events, and incidents in this book are either the product of the author's imagination or used in a fictitious manner. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, or actual events is purely coincidental.

She Bullied Me

This story was written for the 2025 Literotica 750 Word Challenge,

below this line are exactly 750 words:

I worked at the company for three years when she landed a summer internship. A tall, African-American 2nd-year law student who'd played basketball on a national championship team. She wore her hair short, died blonde, and obviously a tomboy—I figured her for a dyke.

One night, when I worked late, I caught her out of the corner of my eye. She had this sexy silk blouse on and had unbuttoned down past her medium-sized breast. She'd worn it all day, but now it exposed her ebony flesh so invitingly.

To my utter shock, she'd shed her skirt and apparently all her underthings.

"Get out here, boy," she said. She was gorgeous, toned, powerful, and demanded me to come to her.

I swallowed hard, my heart leaped into my throat, and when she repeated her command, I obeyed. She was barefoot and five or six inches taller than me. I walked, a bit apprehensive about what was happening.

I stopped six feet short of where she stood.

"Is that how you come to someone?" she asked, unbuttoning the last three on her blouse. Twisting one free, the next, and the last one. Sticking her hand out, she wagged her finger and took a few more steps. She spread her legs, exposing her lower body to my eyes. A thick tangle of jet-black pubic hair stared back at me.

"Right up to me, cracker boy."

Two more steps toward her. I closed to within a foot of her. Her hand touched my face. Warm, calloused flesh caressed my cheek for a moment. Then she took a handful of my hair, twisting it in her fingers, and pushed me down to my knees.

"You keep your trap shut to the bosses, your friends, your pretty white wife, to God even." The woman pulled me back to my feet with her grip on my hair. "Strip and present yourself for inspection, Mr. Allan."

"Why me," I asked as I peeled out of my shirt. The back of her right hand stung across my right cheek so hard I staggered to the side.

"Don't ask questions. Just do what you're told."

Once I stood naked before her, she smiled and nodded her head. She stared at my hard cock, and the smile turned sly.

"You like bossy bitches don't you?" she asked, but before I could respond, "Jus' nod, peckerwood."

I bobbed my head. She grabbed my prick, holding it, weighing its heft.

"Not long, but a fat fuck tool. Does it hurt the wife?"

"I lay on my back so she can control our pace."

"I figured you for sub. Don't make me hurt you," she said as she squeezed tight. "Kneel."

The ebony goddess pushed me down, and I sank to my knees. Taking me by the hair, she forced my nose into the soft, tangle of pubic trusses, and I teased her clit and lapped her folds. She held me to her, forcing me to eat her pussy.

She was dominant, and this feminine assault held the most deliciously warped control of me. Bucking her hips into me, like man fucking someone's face, she used me. My cock flopped against my belly, my balls banged about, bringing me to the edge and beyond.

I lost my load, sprayed seed on my belly, her legs, the floor, and no sooner deflated than I swelled again. After my second cumming and resurrection, she pushed me onto my back and straddled me.

She rode my cock, as if she raped me. Her cunt was tight, and she took all of me inside, milking me with every rough, violet thrust. She held my throat and shoved her fingers on the other hand into my mouth. As she fucked me, she'd spread my slobber over my face and dug into my mouth for more.

Closer ever closer, she edged toward the inevitable ending. She slapped my face, twisted my nipples, and barked how I'd better not nut too soon.

As she climaxed, time and again, she called me every racist thing I'd ever heard from a black about whites. I loved it. I belonged to her, and she used me like the whore she made me. A whore for her.

I warned her I wouldn't last.

"Not until I tell you." We continued, and she shuddered, at last, "Now."

The girl collapsed on top of me.

She crawled off.

Smirking. "Thursday, you work late."

Of course, I would. She owned me like no one ever would.