I Own You White Boy

"I own you white boy," words I always wanted to hear, but never thought I would, at least not sincerely. Oh, you can pay a pro domme to say whatever you want her to say. After all, she's an employee. She works for you. She does what you want because she wants you back as a repeat customer. I confess that I've used a few pros, and while it was physically satisfying, it wasn't real, so it lacked emotional satisfaction and the feeling that you were totally in the power and under the authority of a superior Black Woman.

My name is Jack. I'm 32 years old. White, educated, and I like to believe intelligent, fun to be with, and reasonably decent looking. No movie star, but nice looking...or so I've been told. I am also physically attracted to Black Women. Don't ask me why, I don't have a clue. I just find them sexy, beautiful, and desirable. What's your favorite color? Blue? Red? Green? Whatever you say, I might ask you why not yellow or some other color and you couldn't give a logical answer. You like what you like. Sometimes things just are, for no reason at all. That's how it is with me and Black Women. Just a preference, but a real one and a strong one.

I am also submissive, but only to women, and then only certain women. I am not some wimp that anyone can push around by saying boo. I've been told that if I were truly submissive I'd submit to everyone. I disagree. There is a difference between being submissive and spineless. Despite a desire to submit to a superior Black Woman, I have a sense of self worth. I'm good, but she's better is the way I see it. Besides, why would a Black Woman who truly believed she was superior want to be bothered with a man who can be dominated by anyone? What satisfaction can she derive from being superior to someone who's worthless?

Another thing that makes me different is that I want a loving relationship. I want to love a Black Woman and express that love by obeying her commands, accepting and embracing her authority over me and doing everything I can to make her happy in her roll as my owner. I want her accept me as her property, embrace the roll of superior owner, but to also love and cherish the man who surrendered his freedom to her. Dominate me because it is natural and right for a Black Woman to own a white man, but not in a spirit of hatred and content. I want her to want me to be happy being her property. I am not a masochist. I don't like pain. Physical, emotional, or mental pain. Some sadist who hates men, or whites, and wants to make someone miserable is not for me. That's easy to find, what I want isn't. I believe that no relationship not rooted in love can endure for long. I also believe a DS relationship can be a loving one. I just was unable to find one...until that evening in a bar.

It had been a long day at the office and after work I stopped at a bar in my neighborhood for a beer to relax a bit and decide if I wanted to grab some McDonalds or throw some frozen pizza into the oven at home for dinner. I was about to take the last swig of beer when I noticed this Black Woman a couple of stools over staring at me. She was attractive in a tough sort of way. She was wearing work boots, tight jeans, and a T-shirt that said "Girls Rule. Guys Drool." Over that she had on an unzipped leather vest that exposed a pair of very well muscled arms. She looked to be in her early 40's, maybe ten years older than I. She was a strange mix of masculine and feminine traits. Short hair cut in a sort of masculine looking way, but a pretty feminine face. Body builder arms, but those tight jeans revealed what looked like sexy legs and a nice round ass. I found the mix of masculine and feminine appealing and she had been staring at me, and now smiling. I think I gave her a weak smile back and she got up and walked over and taking the stool next to me.

"Yeah, I was staring at you, sorry, but you look so much like my late spouse that I thought I was seeing a ghost. Let me show you." She pulled a photo from her wallet and showed it to me, and sure enough the guy in the picture looked very much like me. "By the way, I'm Alexa, but call me Alex."

"I see what you mean," I said. "Late husband?" I asked.

"Spouse", she said, "Dumbass traffic accident. Some drunk got on the Interstate going the wrong way."

"Sorry.

"Me too. Jerk killed a wonderful man. Sorry I stared, let me buy you a beer to make up for it." So she did and we talked and talked. It was easy to open up to her. You could almost say I felt compelled to open up to her. She had a strong personality and a lot of animal magnetism. I told her about her about my attraction to Black Women and was rewarded with a big smile. "It's always nice to find a man with good taste" she said, "and I taste good."

That last statement, and the way she leaned into me violating my personal space made it fairly clear she was open to a sexual encounter. I was having an internal debate as to if I should take what was being clearly offered, or roll the dice and tell her I was submissive. Did that aggressive sexuality she showed mean she had a desire to dominate? I decided to chicken out and just take the vanilla sex when she asked, "You're submissive. Aren't you?"

Without thinking I said, "How'd you know?" Oops, the cats out of the bag now, but that might be a good thing.

"It was because you kept staring at my arms. Most guys would be staring at my breasts, and I made sure you could get a good look at them, but you were more interested in my arms." She made a muscle and it was quite impressive. "You looked like you were wondering if I was stronger than you. If I could overpower you, hold you down, and rape you like a bitch. You were, weren't you?"

God, it was like she could read my mind. That was exactly what I had been thinking. "Yes, I was thinking that. I was also thinking what it would be like to have you rub your ass on my face and make me lick your asshole because that's what white boys should do in a Black female run world."

She looked a little surprised and said, "My late spouse used to love that. I do too. You not only look like him, you think like him. He was extremely submissive. He believed in Black Supremacy and female superiority. He'd beg me to spit on his face or in his mouth. Lick my ass and if I could fart while he was back there, he'd thank me for blessing him. He loved drinking my piss and having me pee on his face. God did I ever love him for giving himself to me. I didn't hate him or have contempt for him, or think he was weak. I miss what he so freely gave me terribly. Yes, he was my property. A possession. A slave. But he was loved and cherished and I showed him in a thousand ways. I made him happy and he made me happy. Do you know why I always refer to him as my Spouse? It's because he really was my submissive wife, and I his Black bull husband. Can you handle that?"

Now it was my turn to look a little surprised. What she said was almost exactly word for word what I had been seeking for years. To have it fall in my lap was amazing. "Yes, I can handle that, and more."

"Prove it" she said, "Open your mouth". I did, and right there, sitting at a bar where anyone might see, she leaned in and spit into my open mouth. "Thank you for blessing me my Goddess."

"I own you white boy. I'm taking you home with me." She tossed some money on the bar. "Let's go. I need to pee and the restrooms in this place are filthy. Besides, I now own a better toilet. One I can't wait to use for the first time."

To be continued...