A Perfect Fall 2020: College Sub

"That's good, I want you refreshed," Amy said. "We're going to try to really explore your fantasies."

"Really?"

"Yes," she nodded. "You need to understand your fantasies and what's behind them, if you're ever going to fulfill your natural purpose."

"Okay," I said, thinking if that was the case, then I'd have to fuck her husband, and that certainly wasn't in the cards.

"Good luck in your tournament," she said.

"Thanks, we'll need it," I sighed.

"Maybe you could suggest that all your teammates masturbate that morning."

"I'll do that in my pre-game talk the previous night after our other game," I laughed, as she handed me three more packages of nylons.

"So you'll have some colour variety," she explained.

"Um, thanks, wow!" I said.

"Trust me, nylons are a great accessory," she said.

"So I'm learning."

I returned home, and hovered near my front window to see who her 4 o'clock was. I was surprised again. It was the Dean of my Mom's English Department; her name was Dr. Karen Fischer, and she wasn't dressed in her usual conservative attire, which normally featured tweeds. No, today she was wearing a shiny black blouse, a tiny red skirt, black nylons and red heels. The outfit certainly turned her normal look on its head. She'd changed from stuffy to... dare I say... really hot, just because of what she was wearing. If she could pull off such a makeover, I guessed I could too.

That night I masturbated again, not even waiting for Mom to go to bed, and as I pleasured myself, I couldn't help but replay Amy's gentle touch on my leg. It had been harmless, yet still it warmed me. It made me dwell for the first time on what it might be like to kiss a woman. Also for the first time, I ended up reading lesbian stories... surprised to discover so many interracial ones, almost all of them confirming Amy's theory of white women typically being submissive to black women. It made me wonder whether Amy could be as dominant as the characters I was reading about... there was something about her that implied she could... something authoritarian within her warm, caring professional persona.

I came hard, imagining myself servicing both Amy and Mr. Wa... well, Derek, I guess I'd call him in such a fantasy... my being their willing submissive. I was sucking cock, eating pussy, getting fucked by Derek's big black cock, and none of it by my own decision, but just eagerly doing whatever I was told. In my fantasy, and also within my body in reality, I became so overwhelmed that I screamed out a gigantic orgasm.

As I recovered, hoping Mom was downstairs watching television and hadn't heard my loud outburst, I shook my head. What was happening to me? How were these intriguing conversations with Amy making me so horny? Also, how did we once again not talk about sports at all, when that was supposed to be the point?

That night, I had the best sleep I'd had in ages.

The next morning I pleasured myself again. My fantasy: eating Amy's pussy while taking Derek's cock deep inside my pussy from behind.

Again, I came hard.

I wondered if I should tell Amy about this fantasy. Judging from her reaction to my revelation yesterday, the amazing woman would probably be flattered!

As instructed, I put on a pair of nylons, a blouse, and a long black skirt. I felt both a little nervous and a little excited. What would people say? What would Jill say? My teammates?

At school, Jill did notice and joked, "I didn't even know you owned a skirt, you jock."

"I thought I'd dress up for our tournament this weekend."

"Well, you look very cute; hot even," Jill smiled.

"I'm just trying to keep up with you," I joked, as Jill was wearing a tight blue blouse, a black leather skirt and matching pantyhose. I added, "Although I'm not doing a very good job."

"If you want, I can help you slut it up," Jill teased.

"Because that's just what I need," I laughed.

"We could all use a little more slutting up," Jill shrugged.

"I hope you don't say that in Ms. Parker's feminism class," I teased.

"Feminists are the biggest sluts of all," Jill said. "They just hide their sluttitude behind façades of respectability."

I couldn't help but think that was something Amy would say, although not using those words, and I had no idea why that popped into my head. "That, I can't imagine."

Jill shrugged, "Every woman has a multitude of personas."

"Is that an opinion, or scientifically proven?" I asked.

"Both" she answered, "it's my opinion, but it's also a fact."

"Interesting," I said, as my attention went again to Amy's sessions.

Class began, and again I spent a lot of it wondering about my sessions with Amy, and my suddenly confusing sexuality.

I got teased by my teammates about arriving in the locker room to suit up looking like 'high society,' but just in jest, and I gave it back. We won our Friday night game in straight sets, and I played some of my best volleyball ever.

I suggested we should all arrive at the tournament on Saturday dressed to the nines, like the football players had done back in my high school. The girls all agreed.

I masturbated that night.

I masturbated the next morning.

Each time my fantasies were hotter and nastier. Derek fucked me roughly. I ate out Amy as she ground on my face.

I got dressed up to arrive at the stadium before suiting up for our games.

We prevailed over our pool of three other teams.

We won our semi-final.

We lost the final, but even so, it was easily our best tournament of the season.

It was such a rush to finish so close to the top! Somehow Amy's sessions, where sports hadn't even come up at all, had given me enough new confidence that I could then push it onto my team.

Although my appointment wasn't until 2 o'clock the next day, I was so excited about our team's playing today and our success, that I couldn't help but bounce happily up Amy's walkway instead of my own when I arrived home.

I rang her bell, but there was no answer. Weird, since there was someone's vehicle parked in front of her house, which I then realized meant she was likely seeing someone, which seemed pretty late for her to be working, since it was after 8 o'clock.

I sighed and started walking away feeling oddly disappointed, when the door opened. "Becky, what are you doing out here?"

I turned around and saw she was in a robe. I said, "I um, oh sorry, am I interrupting something?"

"No, no," she smiled warmly, but it was clear I was interrupting something.

"You sure?" I asked, as her robe was quite short, and I could see she was wearing thigh high stockings but no skirt.

"Well, I am in the middle of a session with a patient," she admitted.

"Oh, I'm sorry," I apologized.

"No worries," she said. "Why don't you come over at 9 o'clock tonight?"

"It can wait," I said.

"No, I don't think it can," she said. Then she added firmly, "Be back here at 9. And wear that exact same outfit."

"Yes, Mrs. Watson, I will," I agreed, somehow feeing the need to address her with extra respect this time instead of just calling her Amy... like I'd do in the lesbian black-dominates-white stories I'd been jilling off over when I wasn't perving on my real-life neighbours.

"See you soon," she said.

"Yes, ma'am," I nodded, and headed home.

Mom was in the living room in a blouse, a long black skirt and pantyhose, and I couldn't help but wonder whether my Mom had a secret side like Amy had suggested she might. It didn't seem possible, yet as Jill had mentioned, 'every woman has a multitude of personas'.

"How did the team do?" she asked, as she put on a pair of boots.

"We made it all the way to the finals," I said.

"That's great."

"Yeah, we played really well," I bragged, "never better."

"That's great," she said, noticing my attire.

"Did you girls go out to celebrate afterwards?"

"No," I explained. "I suggested that as a team, we could dress up like the football boys did back in high school."

"Cool idea," she said.

"Thanks," I said. "It seemed to help."

"Anything to bring the team together."

"And where are you going?"

"Your dad and I are going to a 9 o'clock movie."

"You wild, crazy woman," I teased.

"I know, way past my bedtime," she laughed. "Do you want to come along?"

"No thanks," I shook my head. "I need a bath with Epsom salt to soak these sore muscles. We ended up playing four games today!"

"Okay," she nodded, as Dad came downstairs.

"Don't you two do anything I wouldn't do," I joked.

"We'll try to restrain ourselves," Dad laughed.

"And I expect you to bring my girl home by midnight," I continued.

"Yes, ma'am," Dad played along.

They left, which was great, since now I wouldn't have to explain why I was leaving at 9:00, still dressed up, just to go next door.

I couldn't explain it, but I couldn't wait to see Amy again. I wanted her to help me dig deeper into who I was meant to be, but I was also excited by how she was stirring feelings inside me I didn't know I had. She was so pretty, so seductive, and so confident. I couldn't help but picture her as one of the strong mistresses I was now constantly reading about online. The ones who knew exactly how to turn a straight white girl into a submissive pussy-licking pet.

Did I want that?

My suddenly wet panties argued that I did.

Or perhaps I could be dominated by both Amy and Derek, like the white girls in the hot compilation 'Black couples Dominate white Bitches', or the series 'Our First White Babysitter'.

Shit, I really needed to get laid.

I changed panties and headed over a few minutes before 9:00.

I rang the bell.

Derek opened it this time. In a white t-shirt that seemed a size too small, and didn't remotely hide his six pack. "Hi, Becky, you look nice."

I don't know why I said this next, other than my inner slut was begging to come out and play, but I asked, with a slight pout, "Nice? No girl wants to hear she looks just nice."

He laughed, "Yes, I should have known that. You look beautiful tonight."

"Why thank you, kind sir," I smiled warmly, trying to be flirtatious. "You look pretty handsome yourself."

"Thanks; Amy is waiting for you," he said, as he turned around, and I checked out his ass in a pair of tight jeans.

Fuck, I needed to get laid.

"Enjoy yourself," he said, as he passed her office.

"You too," I said, although I realized that made no sense.

I entered the room and saw Amy sitting on the couch I usually sat in... well, both times, so far. She patted the spot beside her and said, "Come and sit down, Becky."

"Okay," I said, surprised to see her still in just a robe and still in nylons. I couldn't help but wonder whether she was wearing anything beneath the robe. With her legs crossed, I could see the entire top of her thigh high stockings.

I sat beside her and she asked, "How did your team do?"

"We made it all the way to the finals," I chirped.

"Excellent," she nodded. "I'm assuming from your phrasing that you lost the finals."

"Yes, but we played very well... better than ever before," I said.

"Great," she nodded again. "What do you think made the difference?"

"It may have been the stockings," I shrugged.

"How so?"

"Well, I arrived in the locker wearing them last night and got some playful teasing, but after we won and I'd played the best I had all year, I suggested the entire team dress up for today."

"Interesting," she nodded, as she wrote something down. "Did they all dress up?"

"They all did," I nodded. "It seemed to be a team builder."

"Did wearing the thigh highs make you play better, or was it the masturbating?"

"I don't know," I said, but added, "it was likely a mixture of both."

"How so?"

"Well..." I paused.

"Go ahead," she said, as she placed her hand on my leg once again. "This is your safe place."

"Well, the masturbating definitely relaxed me," I admitted, "but the reactions I got from my friends and teammates really built my confidence, and it seemed to enhance my playing."

"Your mind and body were in sync today," she said, as I felt her warm hand on my leg. I don't know why, but its presence sent a tingle directly to my vagina.

"That makes sense, even though I never made the connection."

"The balance between the two is critical," she continued. "As is your increasingly comfortable acceptance of your sexual desires."

"My desires?" I asked, which at this moment were a mixture of lust for her husband, and curiosity about her.

"Yes," she nodded. "Now. Why did you come directly to my house after your games?"

"I wanted to tell you that your strategies worked," I answered.

"No other reason?" she asked, as her hand reached under my dress.

"Well, I..." I paused, unsure what the right answer was.

"Go ahead my pet," she encouraged me. "There's no right or wrong here," reading my mind again, "just tell me what you were thinking and feeling."

Hearing her call me her pet was confusing... did she mean it like in those stories I'd been reading? I also wasn't sure how to answer. I actually didn't know why, other than that my body had led me to her house. I tried to explain. "I really don't know, completely. I just knew that I wanted... no, needed to tell you, and you were the one I most wanted to see and to tell about it."

"Do you know why that was the case?"

"Not with any certainty."

"But you have a hunch."

"Yes," I nodded sheepishly, as her hand wandered, seemingly carelessly, closer to my excited pussy.

"What's your hunch?"

"I want to discover my true self," I answered.

"And what are you hoping that is?" she asked, as her sauntering fingers parted my legs and reached my wet pussy.

"Oooooooh," I moaned.

"You interrupted a session that would otherwise have become quite intense," she accused gently. "I wasn't dressed this way by accident."

"Sorry," I apologized, as her fingers traced my pussy lips over my panties.

"So I think it important that you replace her for the night," she judged.

"I'll do anything you want me to," I moaned again. I then smiled, "I did agree several days ago to obey anything you suggested. That promise still stands; just tell me what you want me to do."

"You're a natural pet," she smiled, as she leaned in and kissed me.

Kissing had always been awkward for me. Usually it was guys pressing their lips roughly against mine while they were squeezing my ass or cupping my tits. It was never intimate, never soothing. It never made a chill go up my spine. But during this kiss, her finger continuing to trace my pussy lips only enhanced the surreal but pleasurable moment.

When she broke the kiss she said, "I believe all women are either dominant or submissive; or occasionally both."

"And you see me as submissive."

"Are you not?"

"I'm dominant on the court," I countered.

"But, in your sexual experiences?"

"Not so dominant," I smiled sheepishly.

"Because you like to please, and don't like confrontations," she evaluated.

"I suppose."

"And even though you've never seriously considered being with a woman prior to our conversations," she continued, as her finger probed inside my panties. "You've been thinking of it lately, haven't you?"

"A little," I admitted as her finger slid inside me.

"You're very wet," she reported

"I'm all confused," I admitted.

"Sexuality is fluid," she explained. "It's always changing."

"Always?"

"Well, not always for everyone," she corrected herself. "But at your age it is."

"I don't know what I think anymore."

"What were you imagining while you masturbated last night and this morning?" she asked, as her finger slowly moved in and out of me... a major tease that already had me a muddled mess.

"Ohhhhh," I moaned. "I shouldn't say."

"It was my husband's big black cock, wasn't it?" Amy asked bluntly.

"It was partly your husband's big black cock," I admitted, getting so turned on that I could speak so frankly and so naughtily, while she did nothing but encourage me. Well, and also kiss and finger-fuck me.

"Was I there as well?" she asked.

"Yes," I admitted, my pussy on fire.

"What was I doing?" she asked.

"Looking down at me," I answered sheepishly.

"Was I? Then what were you doing?" she asked, her hot breath on my neck kindling the fire inside.

"I was pleasing you," I answered.

"How?" she probed, drawing me deeper into complete submission.

"I was licking you," I whispered, a little ashamed of my answers, yet so turned on.

Why were you doing that?"

"For two reasons," I replied, feeling very emotional about all this. "First because I wanted to, and second because you were kind enough to ask me to, and I wanted more than anything to obey you."

"And you were licking my what?" Amy asked. "You're an adult; I want to hear you speak like one."

"Your pussy," I said loudly. "I was licking your hot, wet pussy while your husband Derek was fucking me from behind."

"Delicious," Amy said.

I looked into her eyes, now feeling brazen and sexy, "Yes, I imagine your pussy is quite delicious."

"So you're telling me you want to taste my black cunt?" she asked, using the nastiest word for vagina possible.

"Is it bad that I do?" I asked.

"Doesn't matter. What do you want to do?" she asked, her finger still playing me like a sexual fiddle. "It's important for you state your needs out loud, and then say whatever you need to next, as you process your feelings."

"What I want more than anything right now, is to eat your black cunt," I admitted, feeling a massive rush as I said it... as if an invisible lifetime burden of propriety had been shattered by those words.

Amy pulled her finger out of my needy, feverous pussy and said, "Get down on the floor, my pet."

"Okay," I nodded, another rush of adrenaline coursing through me at doing as I was told, while feeling wetness leak out of my pussy... from my cunt.

I slowly climbed down off the couch and kneeled between her nylon-clad legs. As I did, she undid her robe and removed it, revealing that all she was still wearing were the thigh highs. So she must have been almost naked with the woman before me, and only donned the robe to answer the door! Her pussy was shaved completely, was dark purple in contrast with her otherwise dark brown skin, and it was glistening with just a subtle amount of wetness. Her large breasts actually hid her face as I looked up from my subservient position. Regardless of whatever her race might be, she was a goddess. I said as much as I stared at her in awe, "You're so beautiful, Goddess Amy."

"Thank you, my pet," she smiled. "Although during these sessions and whenever I call you pet, you will from now on address me as Mistress."

"Yes, Mistress," I agreed, the honorific flowing so naturally off my tongue.

"You are now my pet, and as such, I am now completely responsible for your sexual wellbeing," she explained as she looked fondly down at me.

"I understand and I agree, Mistress," I said, and I did. This just made sense. I was giving myself completely to this beautiful, sensual, intelligent woman. She knew best. She knew what I needed. She knew what I needed even before I did.

"What do you understand?" she asked, as she sat back down before me.

"That you, as my Mistress, will guide me through my sexual awakening," I answered. "And that I can trust you completely."

"Yes, yes, and so much more," she nodded, as she parted her legs wide before me.

"M-mm-may I lick you?" I stammered, my mouth watering as I stared at her dark pretty peach opening before me.