White Woman Dominates Blac Woman

I've known Helen Blackstone forever. Ever since we were students at Morton Academy, an all-female private school located in the city of Brockton, Massachusetts. Helen was the six-foot-two, gorgeous Black Amazon-like chick I always admired. She was captain of the women's soccer team at the Morton Academy and one of the toughest women in the universe. I worshiped her. And she knew it. She was smart, sexy and damn near perfect. In fact, she was the first black prom queen the school ever had. And also the first Black female valedictorian.

We ran into each other at the University of Massachusetts-Amherst. I was simply my nerdy old self, Marion O'Neill. A short, red-haired and green-eyed, plump Irish chick who lacks coordination. I suck at sports. I can't run fast or throw a ball to save my life. I wear thick nerdy glasses. And I'm also queer, though nobody knows. I'm also the most ordinary person you will ever meet. Life was okay for the most part. I lived in the shadow of Helen, the gorgeous Black female athlete who led the University of Massachusetts women's soccer team to glory at the New England Championships. Yes, she was all of that and then some. I loved her. I wanted us to be together. Helen once told me that she was bisexual, having had relations with a football player and a cheerleader during our freshman year.

I was thrilled that she entrusted me with this secret. I thought I could trust her with my secret too. And one day I decided to tell her. Helen was stunned. And basically laughed in my face. She told me that I wasn't her type. She liked manly Black guys, big-booty Black sluts and sexy Hispanic women, not chunky White chicks like me. I told her I was only joking, but my heart was broken. My undying love for her turned into an obsession, and later, pure hatred. It's amazing what a broken heart can do to a person.

I wanted to avenge the hurt I received at her hands when she broke my heart. For years, I pretended to be her friend. I waited for the perfect time to get my revenge on her. Helen graduated from the University of Massachusetts-Amherst with a bachelor's degree in business. I had my bachelor's degree in psychology, but lacked the funds to continue with my education. Helen won a scholarship to Suffolk University's Graduate School and enrolled in the MBA Program. Later, she had her MBA and took the business world by storm. She became one of those amazing success stories you hear about. A self-made millionaire before she was thirty. Wow.

As for me, I became a public schoolteacher. The life of a teacher was okay. I enjoy teaching and the work was pretty rewarding. I watched Helen Blackstone become a diva. She was featured on the cover of Black Enterprise Magazine. She had her picture taken with Oprah at a Women's Business Forum Summit. She wasn't a mere millionaire anymore. Rather, she'd become a multi-millionaire, with a net worth of eight million dollars. She dated a handsome Black actor who plays a cop on a popular and long-running television series. Yes, she was living the high life. Whoever said what goes up must come down was definitely right. Because Helen Blackstone was definitely in store for a cruel reversal of fortune.

The Recession hit the world in full swing in 2007, and lots of wealthy people lost a huge chunk of money. Helen Blackstone had invested the bulk of her money into a certain car manufacturing company whose CEOs were definitely not the sharpest tools in the shed. And that's how she lost several million dollars in the blink of an eye. In one day she went from being rich and powerful, admired by many to a broke-ass Black bitch and a has-been. Yeah, the public which once admired her and celebrated her as a strong Black woman who made it in corporate America now jeered and mocked her. She still had close to a million bucks in the bank, but wasted it in legal fees trying to get her old stuff back. Also, she spent a fortune on booze, drugs and sex with escorts of both sexes. How the mighty had fallen. Helen wrecked her own life and ended up in rehab. When she came out, she was broke. Completely broke. Wow. Life is funny, isn't it?

Even after Helen Blackstone had lost everything, I still thought she could be redeemed. It was hard for me to stay mad at her even though she had been so mean to me in the past. Clearly, losing her money, reputation and lifestyle hadn't been easy on her. I sought her out because I wanted to help her. In spite of everything, I was still in love with her. I wanted us to be together. I had done okay for myself since I took up teaching. I bought a nice house in the Dorchester section of Boston. Dorchester is a large town with close to one hundred thousand people. Blacks, Asians and Hispanics make up over fifty two percent of the residents. Lately, a lot of White people have moved in and they're bringing gentrification to this previously colorful town. I'm not sure how I feel about that. I love having Blacks and Hispanics as friends and neighbors. I don't want Dorchester to become an all-White enclave. I think it's wrong for rich White people to take advantage of the Recession and buy up property from poor Blacks and Hispanics. Boston needs more diversity, not less. Rich White people can stay in Milton. See? I'm an open-minded, fair and easygoing person. And I welcomed Helen Blackstone, the breaker of my heart, into my home. Did she show me gratitude? You're not going to believe this.

For the first two months, life with Helen was okay. I was taking care of her and helping her get back on her feet. I even got her a job as a teacher of business at a nearby high school. I thought Black and Hispanic students would benefit from the experience of a Black female teacher who had worked in corporate America and risen to the top. Helen didn't seem to appreciate what I did for her. And she didn't take the job seriously. Also, she was smoking weed. A clear violation of her deal with the court. She went to rehab to avoid a jail term. She was told that if she ever got caught smoking anything other than a cigarette or inhaling anything other than oxygen, she'd go to jail. Yet she violated that rule. She was smoking more weed than Snoop. Wow. What an ungrateful Black bitch! I confronted her, and she denied it. That's when I saw her for what she was. A slut who used people. She felt no remorse for her actions. So I stopped caring for her and became determined to destroy what's left of her life just like she once destroyed mine. Arrogant Black women like her piss me off.

I decided that I wanted a slave. A Black female slave. Today, Helen is my slave. My Black female slave. I am sitting on a throne-like chair, and look down at her. Helen is kneeling before me, a naked Black woman kneeling before a White woman. Me. I smile at her wickedly. In my right I hold a long black whip. Helen is licking my feet. Every few minutes, I crack the whip and let it fall on her back. Helen screams in pain but doesn't dare stop licking my feet. I love the look of submission and sadness on her face. I smack her face often, just because I can. It's a lot of fun.

I love having Helen Blackstone, a formerly wealthy and newly impoverished Black woman, as my Black female slave. I love making her kneel before a strong White mistress like me. I have lots of fun with her. I make her run errands for me, and clean my house. Also, she's my sexual plaything. When my pussy needs a good licking, it's Helen's tongue to the rescue. Helen is really good at polishing this White woman's pussy with her glistening pink tongue. She's got agile fingers too. I love it when she shoves them up my snatch. I whip her as she licks my pussy, it makes her go faster. And it really, really turns me on.

Other times, I whip out my strap-on dildo and bend her over for a good fucking. Helen wasn't into strap-on sex when we first started, but now the Black bitch is damn addicted to it. She loves it when I plunge my dildo deep into her asshole. While fucking her like this, I berate her. I call her a stupid Black slut, a useless Ghetto whore and a good-for-nothing hussy from the Hood. I smack her fat Black ass, loving the way it jiggles while I pound my strap-on dildo into her well-lubricated asshole. Helen's screams are so loud they could wake the dead. I fuck her asshole hard with my strap-on to the point that it's become a gaping hole. And I spit in it. Yeah, I love dominating my Black female slave. I've transformed Helen Blackstone from a Black American Princess to a Black female slave. My Black female slave, to do with as I wish. I even took off her fake hair, what Black women call a weave, and shaved her head bald. She walks around my house wearing a black and white uniform, a maid's uniform. And there's a collar around her neck of course.

My life is great these days. I am a plump Irish chick living in Dorchester, near the city of Boston in Massachusetts. My house is always neat, thanks to the dutiful work of Helen Blackstone, the Black American Princess, former strong Black woman and former corporate powerhouse who became my Black female slave. She's grown accustomed to it. And to be honest, she's happy. I do the thinking for her. I call the shots. I give the orders. All she has to do is obey me. I am happy too. Helen is my slave. I am the Mistress. It's better this way.