- White women’s revenge made the black moan – 1
- White women’s revenge made the black moan – 2
WEEK 2:
“I missed you watching on Sunday, your nigger boss could use some help,” she whispered.
I just ignored her.
Later that night when another of my employees was kissing my ass (sucking up to me, not literally doing anything anal), she whispered, “Soon you’ll be kissing my ass.”
I stressed the word ‘never’ as I replied, “I promise you I’ll never kiss your ass.”
She shrugged, “Never say never, nigger.”
“Never, never, never,” I repeated.
She laughed, “Denial looks cute on you,” and then she walked away.
Oddly, I couldn’t help but check out her ass… noticing how tight her ass was… unlike my big ass booty (which I was proud of).
Week 3:
“It’s only a matter of time before you’re on your knees serving me too, nigger,” she promised.
I scoffed.
“Rihanna scoffed too,” she responded, before adding, “and now she’s my complete bimbo nigger slave.”
“Just get to work,” I ordered, my cunt sopping wet.
“You will have a new job soon, you naive nigger,” she said, again leaving me with conflicting emotions.
Week 4:
She seemed to be able to know exactly how to slyly break me down.
Whispers of things she expected from me. Calling me a nigger. I had given her all the power by doing nothing that first time and she knew it… and she used it…. she also seemed to know it turned me on as she taunted me with the racial epithet every chance she got.
“Coming in for some white cunt on Sunday?” she asked.
“Leave me out of this game,” I said.
“I know you go home and fuck yourself thinking of me,” Kelly said… correctly.
I could feel my face getting flushed, thankful I was so dark. I scoffed and sarcastically retorted, “Yes, all I do is go home and think of you.”
“Good nigger. Acceptance is the first step,” she quipped, sounding like a Chinese fortune cookie before again sauntering away… her tight ass swaying like a hypnotist’s watch. She turned around and saw me staring at her ass which made me quickly look away… feeling like a pervert ashamed of being caught.
I shook my head as I tried to focus on work.
She pushed my buttons even more often that day, as I couldn’t find her when she was supposed to be hostessing… but Amy was covering for her instead. I walked into the break room and discovered her on her cell phone while Jerome was again massaging her feet.
I sighed and asked, perturbed, “Are you serious?”
“What?” Kelly asked, “My feet are sore from working all day and Jerome was generous enough to help out. He at least knows how to take care of your employees.”
The image of Rihanna on her knees sucking on her toes popped into my head. I tried to remain focused, even as I imagined it was me massaging her cute small feet… so much daintier than my large feet (my worst asset).
Jerome looked at me, expecting me to make him stop, but I said instead, “Fine; once he’s done I expect you back at your station.”
“Of course, boss,” she smiled, knowing she had won once again.
I walked out, feeling out-manipulated again, yet unable to stand up to her… finally beginning to understand why my ancestors could never break free of their own slavery chains… I realized then and there that I was becoming a mental slave to her and if I didn’t fight back soon I would become her slave in every imaginable fashion.
Thankfully, my shift was over before hers and I headed home, having no idea how long she had enjoyed her massage or whether she had ever gone back to her duty station.
On Sunday Kelly wasn’t working, but came in with friends to eat. She walked over to me and said conspiratorially, as if we were friends, “Tonight I’m going to have Rihanna lick my cunt and asshole until I come all over her nigger face. Wanna watch?”
“I’m not playing this game with you, Kelly,” I said dismissively.
“Look over at my table. There are two more ripe cunts for you to munch on, and one big nine inch white cock to ream that roomy nigger asshole of yours,” she said, before again sauntering away, as again I watched her tight ass, showcased perfectly in a tight pair of jeans.
Again she turned around and saw me staring.
Again I quickly turned away.
Again my cunt leaked into my panties.
Week 5:
Kelly didn’t work on Friday night and I was surprised by how disappointed I felt.
She was back on Saturday though, and came into the freezer where I was organizing vegetables. I had a cucumber in my hand when she said, “Do you like being fucked by that vegetable like your nigger boss does?”
“Excuse me?” I asked blankly, not catching on to her meaning but still startled by her insolence.
“The cucumber, dummy! I know all you niggers are veggie fuckers,” she said.
“That is fucking enough,” I said, annoyed by her rude accusations against my entire race… knowing I had to stand up to her, and right now!
“That is what your nigger boss said when I shoved a cucumber up her ass while I fisted her fat cunt,” Kelly said bluntly.
“Out,” I ordered.
“Stop pretending you’re not just like your nigger boss,” she said, moving to leave. “You know you want to be worshiping my feet, munching my cunt and getting fisted by your beautiful white superior.”
“Now!” I demanded.
“You want me to do it now?” she asked innocently.
“Get out now!” I demanded.
“It’s inevitable, nigger,” she said, before sauntering out, not remotely intimidated.
On Sunday she asked, as I was in the office doing some paperwork, “Hungry?”
“What?” I asked.
She moved around my desk and shoved a baby carrot in my open mouth and said, “That’s been marinating in my white cunt all day just for you, nigger.”
I could taste the wetness on the carrot… a taste that was sweet… a taste that was her.
I went to spit it out and she ordered, “Don’t you fucking dare, nigger. Never reject a gift from me. Now chew it and swallow it like a good nigger slave.”
And although I was humiliated… I obeyed… her tone somehow made me obedient… the term ‘slave’ one more kick in the gut that nevertheless turned me on.
“Good nigger,” she nodded approvingly as I chewed the carrot. “Now that wasn’t so hard, was it?” she added, as if she were talking to a child.
I didn’t respond, because although I had just obeyed her, I had yet to admit to anything. I knew I was clutching at straws.
She added, “If you want more, just ask,” before she turned and swaggered out, hips swaying invitingly.
As I stared at her, her pussy taste lingering in my mouth, my first thought was ‘yes I want more’, but I shook that away as I realized just how out of hand this was becoming.
Later that night, I had my white boy toy come over to fuck me, but all I could think about was Kelly and her dominant persona. I came, but he had nothing emotionally to do with it. It was all her.
Week 6:
I didn’t see her until Sunday when she walked in and placed a zip lock bag with a white vibrator in it on top of my desk.
I looked at her perplexed and asked, as I noticed red lipstick on the base of it where the vibe turned on and off, “And what am I supposed to do with this?”
“Well, I just rode our nigger boss’s face with it,” she said so matter-of-factly she could have been discussing the weather, “and I figured you may want to taste my cunt cum.”
“What?” I asked, even though I’d heard her.
“I allowed the fat nigger to hold the vibe in between her big lips as I rode the vibe and her face to orgasm,” she explained. “The toy is still dripping with my juices, as was Janey’s face.”
“And when did you do this?” I asked, knowing Rihanna didn’t work until later tonight for inventory… and hoping this was just a lie from the pretty princess… even as I noticed her calling Rihanna Janey.
“At my house about thirty minutes ago,” she answered. “That nigger will do anything for some white cunt.”
“Kelly, don’t use the ‘C’ word,” I scolded, which was ludicrous since I wasn’t trying to stop her from saying the ‘N’ word, which was far worse.
She laughed, “Look, I know you’d love to lap on my white cunt, but niggers have to earn that privilege. But I knew you would want to clean this off for me like a good nigger slut.”
She then walked out, closing my office door, leaving me furious and horny, as usual… with the latter always winning.
Again, I was stunned by her pretentious racist attitude.
I was angry at the way she treated me.
I felt bad for the humiliation she heaped all over Rihanna.
Yet, intrigued, my pussy leading my decision making, I opened the sealed bag and took a sniff.
The scent was intoxicating… definitely pussy.
Suddenly my door opened and Kelly spoke, “I want it cleaned by the… oh good, I see you’re already into it.”
I dropped the bag on my desk as I stammered, “I-I-I was just….”
“Just what?” she asked, wearing the biggest, smuggest grin I had ever seen.
Yet, I had nothing. There was no logical reason to have the bag open.
“I’d let you have some directly from the source but I have to get to work,” she said, amused. “I expect it all cleaned up by those nigger lips when I come back to get it.”
She then again walked out and closed the door.
What a presumptuous little bitch!
I went to throw it away.
To regain some resemblance of control or power.
As she was just proving my theory that whites still idiotically thought they were superior to blacks. And teens like her were just privileged, spoiled brats who didn’t understand how the real world worked.
Yet, as I looked at the vibe, the scent was still lingering in my nostrils… I was drawn to obey… to lick her juices off the vibe, savoring the taste.
So before I even consciously realized I was doing it, I had the vibe in my hand and I was again smelling it… which made my mouth water and before I knew it I was sucking it….
And God did it taste delicious… like a delicacy you were given as a sample before a meal… just enough to make you decide to order that item for the main course.
The carrot… the vibe… they had me completely wondering what her actual pussy would taste like.
Yet, as I put the vibe back in the bag, having sucked off all the sweet cream, I ignored the burning in my loins, tossed the bag in my drawer, and returned to work… the busy family hour about to start.
After the rush, during which Kelly had actually worked, I returned to the office realizing I needed either to return or hide the vibe, as Rihanna would be at work in an hour.
I was putting it in my purse, when Kelly again walked into my office unannounced and said, “Did I give you permission to take it home?”
“What? No!” I protested and defended myself, “I was just hiding it from Rihanna.”