Taing Liberties: a Freeuse Novella

Summary:

Black mom is drawn into her daughter's white gf's racial play.

Note 1:

Thanks to Breezy for suggesting this racial role reversal story.

WARNING:

Please note that unlike most of my interracial stories, where a white man or woman submits to a black man or woman... this time a black mother and daughter submit to an 18-year-old white girl.

Racial play and taboo terms like the 'N' word are prevalent. If these offend you, please stop reading now.

I should note this story was requested by a black woman who finds this kind of taboo racial roleplaying arousing.

Note 2: Thanks to Tex Beethoven for editing this novella.

Taking Liberties

It took me some time to deal with learning that my only daughter Keisha, my only child for that matter, was a lesbian. Not because I'm some homophobic woman... or some 'Karen'... or some wing nut politician attempting to inflict laws upon people about their sexuality... no... my difficulty was for two reasons: one of them selfish, and the other one motherly.

1. The selfish one: I wanted grandkids, or at least a grandkid. I know adoption is possible, or artificial insemination, but they're just not the same.

2. The motherly one: we lived in the South, and in an area where even in the so-called enlightened 21

st

century, being gay could still provoke unfavorable attention and mistreatment.

Two years later, I'd gotten over the first issue (mostly), but I was still concerned about the second one... exacerbated by some hate crimes recently committed against some gay people... and then a third concern arose when I met Keisha's new girlfriend... and much to my surprise... they were already living together. The surprise including: her girlfriend Amber was white (my daughter and I are black) and she was three years younger than my daughter, at just eighteen. Christ, the girl had only graduated from high school six weeks prior!

And even though I'd been gearing myself up to give her the benefit of the doubt, her first impression wasn't at all positive, when she showed up for our extended family's annual 'Last Weekend in August Family Picnic' in my backyard wearing a crop top, jean shorts, and for reasons no sane person would ever comprehend, black thigh high stockings. Now I have nothing against stockings, although I myself would never wear them in public. I'd worn pantyhose only for funerals, and not even for my wedding, until my newest boyfriend of eight months had a thing for nylons, so now I wore them sometimes, but only in the bedroom. They were sexy, but only suitable for when I was getting dicked. No black woman ever wears pantyhose or nylons in casual public settings. As I watched this girl arrive while shaking my head in disapproval, not yet realizing this white trash bimbo was my daughter's girlfriend, I looked up and saw my daughter also entering the backyard.

That disapproval shifted into astonishment when I saw my daughter wearing a sundress... not at all strange... with white nylons underneath... very strange... since no black woman

ever

wears white nylons... if they wear any at all... and no black woman would

ever

wear pantyhose in the summer... in the South. And... throughout her entire life, I hadn't once seen Keisha wearing nylons of any sort.

As I was trying to process my daughter's strange new fashion choice at our family barbecue, I watched her walk up to the pretty-enough-to-be-a-model-but-with-disastrous-fashion-sense blonde white girl and kiss her... on the lips... with tongues... and at length!

My eyes went wide.

The white girl I was judging had to be the new girlfriend Keisha had told me she was bringing along.

Fuck!

She hadn't mentioned anything about the girl being white.

Or that she looked like a child but dressed like a prostitute.

3. I know this sounds racist, but she was white... drop dead beautiful, and white

.

Meaning that now my daughter was in danger of not only provoking slings and arrows for being gay, but also for being biracially gay. In the South!

Keisha walked towards me, now holding hands with this white girl, and upon reaching me, dropped her hand momentarily to give me a big hug.

"Mama, this is my girlfriend Amber," Keisha introduced, looking very happy.

I turned on my very best (but totally fake) smile, which I often needed to do around certain white people, while I thought to myself,

of course her name is Amber,

"It's nice to meet you, Amber."

"Nice to meet you too, Liberty," Amber responded with a warm smile.

Yes, my given name is Liberty. I don't know how many people know that the Statue of Liberty was modeled from a mixture of mostly black women, possibly including the Colossus of Rhodes, a Nubian goddess and various Egyptian peasant women. In any case, my parents named me after Lady Liberty, which I'm rather proud of, even though I've carried that name for forty-four years and counting.

However, I was aghast that she was addressing me as Liberty instead of Ms. Black (having reverted to my maiden name after my divorce). Yet I didn't correct her. Instead I asked politely, "How long have you two girls been together?"

"All summer," Keisha said.

"I see," I nodded, trying to appear interested and non-judgemental as I added, "And may I ask how old you are, Amber?"

"Eighteen," she said. "I know I look younger."

"She graduated from high school at the top of her class," Keisha said proudly, clearly knowing her mother and the plethora of questions that would be spinning through my head. "Just like I did three years ago."

"Very impressive," I said, although from looking at her, that didn't seem overly realistic, unless she'd fucked her way into her top grades. But then I felt a little bad about being so judgemental. In spite of our history of being persecuted, or maybe because of it, we blacks need to hold ourselves to a high standard when it comes to displaying even a hint of racism in ourselves; since if we step across some ill-defined line, there are people who'll be quick to shout, "See? You're just as racist as you always accuse us of being!"

"And I'm rooming with your daughter, since we'll be attending the same college this fall," Amber added.

"You're what?" I asked, my façade of propriety crumbling in an instant.

"Yes, Mama," Keisha jumped in, knowing I wasn't happy about that. I was paying for Keisha's small but lavish house a block from the campus. She had a scholarship good for all four years, but it only paid for her tuition and textbooks. Coming from a well off successful family and doing very well in the divorce, I had lots of money, so I made sure Keisha had all she needed to be successful in college, and she wouldn't need to worry about money. My daughter, sweetheart that she is, had decided to attend a college just three hours away, even though she'd been offered scholarships to schools all over the country. I know she would have preferred Stanford, but she chose to matriculate a fairly short drive away from me, so I wouldn't be totally alone after her father had left me three years ago for his secretary... his white secretary, who was much younger than I was... shortly after I'd walked in on her bent over his desk while he fucked her.

"I think we need to talk," I said, trying to retain my warm persona while also being a little terse, and unavoidably revealing I wasn't happy with this revelation. As I hope I've made clear, I always did my best not to be at all racist, but I assumed this white girl was having sex with my daughter, which normally might not be an issue, except that a part of me was still feeling pretty raw from my husband's betrayal.

"Okay Mama, but please not here and now," Keisha urged in a whisper.

"Yes Liberty, it was very generous of your sexy daughter to allow me to move in with her," Amber said, making me cringe at her continuing use of my given name. "I really appreciate it. I didn't know how I was going to be able to attend college and also find a place to live, since my parents can't afford to pay for both the tuition and my living expenses."

"Oh, okay," I said, not really thrilled by this arrangement, but being well aware of my sweet daughter's generosity. She'd always been a people pleaser, always putting other people ahead of herself. (I'd also noticed Amber had called my daughter 'sexy'.)

"How did you two meet?" I asked, still trying to process how my daughter could possibly have hooked up with someone so different from her, not to mention younger.

"We met on my European trip," Keisha said. "They assigned us as roommates, and we hit it off."

"And so..." Amber said, as she placed her hand on my daughter's ass and gave it a possessive squeeze, "...we quickly became more than roommates."

If my daughter's dark skin could blush visibly, I'm sure she'd be displaying her embarrassment, although her facial expression didn't seem fazed at all, and she didn't push Amber's hand away, but allowed it to remain on her ass.

My own mother joined us, and so the conversation ended prematurely... while the entire time I tried to puzzle out how my daughter had become enamored with someone like Amber. Logically they didn't seem compatible at all, although they did seem to be getting along well; there were certainly no signs of friction between them.

Keisha and Amber stayed at my house for a week... sharing a bed together... which shocked me... as did my hearing my daughter frequently moaning through the walls, and even begging, "Harder, fuck me harder," which made no sense to me. I couldn't believe Keisha would sleep in the same bed as a lover while she was in my house, and would even have sex there... in the house she'd grown up in... which was something she'd never done with any previous girlfriends... yes, she'd had girlfriends before going off to college.

By the time they left, I didn't only dislike Amber, I resented her. And while hate is a strong word I don't use lightly... I may have already hated her for the way she was turning my daughter into something she wasn't. Keisha wore thigh high stockings (always white) throughout the entire week. (I learned they weren't pantyhose when a chance gust of wind revealed two things: she was wearing thigh high stockings, and to my complete shock, she also wasn't wearing any panties!)

Unfortunately, I never managed to get even two minutes alone with Keisha all that week. Amber was always present... and doing most of the talking. It was as if Keisha, one of the most confident black women I'd ever known... and yes, my baby girl was now a woman, all of twenty-one... had now become someone else entirely... and I didn't like this newest version at all... most particularly because she deferred to her girlfriend about

everything

.

Yet after they were gone, a strange thing happened. I started having sexual dreams and fantasies about Amber. I was somewhat of a submissive in the bedroom... always had been... which was the polar opposite of the persona I wore in public. I was a lawyer who championed many civil rights cases in federal courts in America, and even some on global stages. So almost no one knew that behind closed doors I got off on being called a slut and on being face fucked; I thrived on taking facials, or having a man shoot his white cum all over my body... I found the sight in a mirror of white cum on my black face and body oddly sensual... and I even enjoyed having a man come all over my ass.

But I'd never seriously fantasized about being with a woman. Sure, I noticed when one was attractive, and I knew Amber was one of the prettiest white women I'd ever encountered. She was a stereotypical blonde blue-eyed beauty with an amazing slim body.

I hated to keep waking up all wet between my legs as my dreams played wicked tricks on me by vividly portraying me as her sexual plaything. In those dreams she required me to lick her feet, kiss her ass, eat her pussy while she watched television, and she fucked me in all my holes with strap-ons.

I remembered seeing her hands on my daughter's ass, I recalled witnessing my daughter wearing revealing clothing she'd never even

consider

wearing before she met Amber. I realized now, looking back at the strange week, that Amber had even spoken for Keisha a few times when I'd asked my daughter a question.

Was my daughter submissive?

Was Amber manipulating her?

Was Amber using her?

If so, was it with her consent?

I attempted during our conversations over the phone slyly to try to pry some hints of discontent out of Keisha, but she seemed to be super happy, and it became obvious to me that whether I approved of Amber or not, Keisha was going to remain with her no matter

what

I thought... not that I ever revealed to my daughter my true feelings about the girl... neither the resentful ones or the obsessive ones.

So reluctantly, I accepted their relationship... and all the while my dark, submissive side imagined Amber sexually dominating me. I'd had a white boyfriend back in college named... ironically... Randy, who'd used me like a slut... especially once he discovered my natural submissive side and how much I enjoyed race play. The first time he called me nigger while he face fucked me my pussy leaked, and when he pulled out to spew his load all over my face, I heard myself begging, "Yes! Shoot that white creamy load all over your nigger's face!" He obliged, and once I recovered from my orgasm, he made me fuck a wooden spoon in my cunt... he made me call it a cunt, a word no righteous (or even unrighteous) black woman would ever use... I felt appalled by my weakness... shame coursing through me not only from allowing a white man to call me such a derogatory term, but doubly shamed by how much hearing it turned me on.

For six months a cycle had continued. I promised myself never to allow it to happen again... yet once he presented his big white dick to me, I became an insatiable black

slave

(horrible word!) willing to do anything to serve his white dick. I sucked him in front of his friends. I was spit-toasted by him and his cousin. I was an under-the-table dick sucker to four white dicks during a poker game... swallowing a good nine or ten loads while being called every racist slur I'd heard before, and some I hadn't, by faceless white men with yummy white dicks... before my boyfriend fucked me and verbally humiliated me for being such a black slut who would do absolutely

anything

for white dick.

Luckily for me, although tragically, he died in a car crash, and I took that as a sign from God to stop being such a cheap slut.

I transferred to a different college.

I focused on pursuing my schooling.

I dated, soon exclusively with a sweet man from an upstanding black family.

We got married, had a child, I started my career a few years later, and the rest was history.

Since Randy, I'd been only with black men.

I'd... apparently successfully... banished my twisted racial humiliation kink to the back of my subconscious and forgotten all about it.

Until encountering Amber.

My submissiveness, which I'd controlled pretty well for all these years, was re-emerging... as well as a curiosity I'd contemplated on a few occasions... to be with a woman.

My desire to be degraded and sexually used increased.

I began searching online for porn that depicted white women dominating black women, and was surprised to find how little of it existed. There were tons of black men dominating both white women (I was shocked to discover entire websites dedicated to this fetish) and white men (even more shocked to find a whole subculture of white men who were eager to submit sexually to BBC (a term I'd never encountered before doing this research), and quite a number of black women dominating white women (again entire websites about it), yet there was almost nothing about the other way around. Not a single website. Just the odd video I managed to discover from extensive searching. I assumed this was because of the obvious racism it portrayed... yet apparently reverse racism was now allowed... and even encouraged... which shocked me as much as my own twisted fetish. On the bright side I supposed, society seemed to be striving to compensate for centuries of the white race's blatant racism. (Although historically, the extent to which various Asian countries had subjugated other nations was nothing to be proud of either.)

The videos I did find were very intense... verbally extreme... completely wrongheaded... totally racist... and yet... they got my pussy soaked... and had me shoving three fingers into my pussy, or whatever I had nearby: a wine bottle, a candlestick, and a remote control.

I also came across some intense erotic stories about white women dominating black women ...mostly younger white women... more like girls than women... barely legal... just like Amber... dominating older, professional women like myself. 'Slave to a White Bitch' had my pussy dripping with its racial domination and humiliation... a black woman being called a cow because of her huge tits was so wrong, and yet it turned me on so badly. Then I read a story that had me a muddled mess... both in my panties and in my head... a novella called 'Deconstructing the Professor', which described a strong-willed black professor succumbing over time to a white college student who had many black girls willingly submitting to her... actually all the girls in the story... but especially the black ones.

Almost every night... okay, truth be told,

every

fucking night, I ended up with a toy in my pussy, and often another in my ass, or the shower head pounding away on my clit as I read and reread this story... imagining myself as the professor... and after I came... I cursed myself... my weakness... promised myself never again... yet the cycle continued night after night.

Even whenever I was getting fucked by my boyfriend Jeremy... I was imagining he was Amber with a strap-on.

Ironically, since I was mentally cheating on Jeremy... I eventually discovered he was cheating on me.

It was November... three months after meeting Amber... when my life fell apart... again.

For the second time in my life, I walked in on my man with someone else. First it had been my husband fucking his secretary, this time it was my boyfriend, three days before our one-year anniversary, getting himself ass fucked by a white man half his age. If getting cheated on by your husband with another woman wasn't soul-crushing, catching the man who'd said he loved you just weeks ago, getting fucked by another man... a white man... was completely self-esteem destroying... and this after I was finally coming to grips with the idea (and fact) that my ex-husband's cheating hadn't been my fault... since I'd blamed myself for a long, long time.

So furious, devastated, disgusted, and humiliated, I drove home, packed a few things, and drove straight off to see my daughter. I needed to get the fuck out of the city!

Four hours later (only three of them spent driving), three crying jags later, and after eating half a pie ala mode (true confession: the entire pie) at a roadside diner, I reached my daughter's house... well, mine really.

I grabbed my bag, knocked on the door, and when no one answered, I pulled out my key and walked inside. (I came out to visit Keisha a few times a year and had my own key, since I was paying for everything.)

I called out Keisha's name, and got no response. I slipped out of my runners (my family never wore shoes in the house), and headed towards the guest room, assuming I was alone. I was exhausted, and figured I'd just crash in the spare bedroom (which was essentially my own bedroom), when I heard some shocking words coming from Keisha's room.