"Hey, how are you? ASL???"
My eyes tolled in frustration for more than one reason at that simple, cookie cutter statement. Yet, with nothing else to do I clicked on e-mail after e-mail. A long drawn out sigh escaped my lips which managed to evoke a meaningful glare from the fellow student across the table.
My eyes flickered back to the computer screen in front of me. I noticed a new profile name sitting innocently in the inbox. Semi disappointed in its content I decided to reply anyways. It was apparent that it was a copy and pasted message that had been mass mailed to probably over 100 other girls. However, it was rare to find a young black male with interests that matched my own.
Upon further investigation of his profile I found that, of course, he didn't live anywhere near me.
"Fuck..." I muttered in bitter disappointment.
"SHHH!!" retorted that annoying student that just wouldn't make herself disappear.
For a couple weeks we exchanged e-mails from serious ones to completely XXX rated ones. One day I told this stranger how I wanted him to take me against the shelf of "World Encyclopedias." In response to my partial sarcasm he told me that in a weeks' time he was going to come make me his "personal white slut." I do admit that those three tiny words made my pussy quiver.
E-mails progressed into hour long phone calls. Calls I waited on and secretly ached for. Not to say I lacked any male attention, just maybe the kind I truly desired. This young man seemed to know what to say and how to say it in order to make me melt at his feet. I never really expected him to show up, so I merely went on about my day to day business. Then, one day, the call came.
"Hey, I need directions, I'm about to leave."
"Oh really? Yeah right, whatever." Was my cold response.
"I told you I was coming to make that pussy mine didn't I slut?" He snapped back without missing a beat.
My submissiveness kicked in without my own consent. "Yes Daddy."
I then proceeded to give him what he had asked for. My heart was racing, stomach turning, I had never been so nervous. I knew I had at least 9 hours before he would show up. I glanced around my apartment, for once; I couldn't even busy myself cleaning up. So, I went out to take my mind off the possible encounter.
The hours ticking by, time seemed to almost stop. I just kept telling myself he wouldn't show up. That calmed my nerves a bit. Every time I gathered myself, though, I would get a call from him. Almost as though he knew I was pushing him to the back of my mind. He made sure that he was the only thing that I could think about, dream about, fantasize about.
Finally, around midnight there was a knock at my door. I nearly dropped the glass in my hand. I knew I had to be my sweet, sarcastic, brat self, or he would eat me alive. I couldn't bring myself to instantly bow down and worship a man I had never even laid eyes on. That wasn't me, that couldn't be me.
A tall, caramel complected, barely legal looking man stepped into my home. My eyes scanned him up and down almost as quickly as he did to my frame. He looked harmless enough. Maybe I had been worried for nothing, since he seemed to be all talk. His grey hoop shorts sagging just the way I liked. His skinny yet, well toned body draped in a simple white t-shirt. Little did I know how deceiving his looks actually were.
We exchanged the typical greetings, and then fell into conversation like we actually knew each other. He circled around me as we spoke. I could feel my cheeks flush a deep crimson.
"What's wrong baby?" He laughed at my apparent embarrassment.
"Nothing. What are you doing?"
"Looking at what's Mine." His tone turned serious.
Before I could say anything he had already slapped my ass and had me pinned against the wall. The look in his eyes was no longer that of a playful boy, but a lust filled grown man. My breath was caught in my throat. To my own surprise I didn't struggle or even attempt to object. I stood there completely still, my icy blue eyes locked on his.
"Are you scared?" He asked me.
I shook my head "no". I wasn't scared of him. At that moment I wanted him more than I wanted to breathe. A slight smirk crossed his lips as his hand crept to my neck, squeezing firmly. My eyes drifted shut, a gentle moan escaping the confines of my insides as I felt his power, his unspoken request for total control. I could feel my body arching towards his but it was like I was looking in on the situation. I wasn't myself and I had never been more content. He took in every one of my gestures, my noises, and the quickness of my breath.
"Are you scared yet little girl?"
Once more I shook my head "no". I needed his strength, I wanted to please him, and I wanted to be his best bitch, his only slut. I needed to make him proud.
