Audition Ch. 01: Deidre

BDSM -- Young black woman seeks older white master

[Author's notes: Warning! This is a BDSM sex story. There are strong Dominance and Submission themes in this story. There are strong interracial themes in this story. This story has substantial male/female and female/female sexual contact. This hopefully will be hot enough to be a whack off story for the people who like these themes, as it does have a lot of sex in it. For those who don't like these themes please move along. Civil and constructive comments about writing are appreciated, hate speech will be deleted.]

I open the door to my warehouse to a delightful vision of hot chocolate feminine excellence. She is not very tall, but with her height proportionate to her weight, fitting just about under my chin, and I'm six feet tall. A pink poodle skirt cut just above the knee, like you might see at a 50's sock hop, with legs encased in hose. She wobbles on high heels she is more than slightly unsteady upon, which makes her full DD breasts wobble too.

Deidre has a pixie face with a button nose, thick full lips of delicious darker chocolate. She has the shoulder length hair many black women would kill for, not very coarse, not in need of Jeri Curl, but thick and straight and lustrous black. Her gauzy black bra shines out through her sheer white blouse as it draws your eyes to her stiff nipples. She smells lightly of CBD oil and other herbs I don't recognize, but it isn't overly strong and accents her nicely. Maybe a hint of a floral perfume?

Her name is Deidre, and she lived in Southern Colorado until about two weeks ago. She may be the only survivor from her town.

"Thank you for seeing me, Sir." she says in a voice I would say has no real accent, but it is the same "non-accent" I have. I grew up in the SouthWest, but had a friend at college in L.A. that was convinced I grew up on the same Southside of Chicago area he was from. Her voice is home to me. Her voice is like instant comfort.

"It is wonderful to finally meet you Deidre. I have to say, despite having seen your pictures on FetLife, you are much more impressive -- and soothing -- in person." FetLife is not a dating site, but people of like minds do reach out to each other. Then came the pandemic, the collapse of the economy, my winning a big lottery jackpot, and the total collapse of the small town Deidre lived in. Almost all the people who lived there died, and the rest fled to survive. Most of them wised up too late to survive.

Her family gone, no one and nothing left, she found a girlfriend to share a studio apartment with while they tried to make ends meet. I'd known her before, during, and after the pandemic -- but only online. I am also the closest Dominant in her friends list within six hundred miles who is still alive.

"Your voice is soothing to me too, Sir." Deidre says as she blushes. Her complexion is darker than the cross between Kerry Washington and Janelle Monae she reminds me of, sometimes more one than the other depending on the angle. But of one thing there is no doubt, she is a high class nine beauty whom everyone wants on sight, and I'm being given the opportunity to become her owner, mind, body, and soul.

"As you are aware, this is an audition to see if we are right for each other. If you are found suitable, and you find me suitable, I will support you. You will not need to work. You will live with me in my house as my submissive. Some women have thought they could bluff their way through. Some are so desperate they will do anything, endure anything. There is only one thing I require of you Deidre." I let the demand hang in the air.

"Is it a hard thing, or is it something I can do?" Deidre asks warily.

"Most people find it to be a hard thing. It is simply this: Be true to yourself, and tell me the truth. Most people find that is difficult. Our journey together is one of self discovery. We are just human beings, we make mistakes. But be open and honest with me, and we will work it out." I explain.

"I thought you were a Dominant. I thought obedience is the first, last, and only thing you dominants want. I thought you would use me as I crave to be used!" Deidre almost cries out in desperation.

"I am and I will, I promise you. I would like you to be my submissive. I would like your full and complete obedience. Let's start with the Old School ritual. Offer me your wrists, palms up. Do you offer me your wrists, that I may bind you, and keep you safe?" I ask joyfully.

"Yes! Yes, Sir, I do!" Deidre responds like hope, snatched away, has been given back to her.

I take the leather wrist cuffs and put them on her, then bind them together with the clasp.

"Do you accept my instructions, my corrections, my punishments, that your guilt and shame may be released and you may become closer to the perfection we both seek?" I ask joyfully.

"Yes Sir." Deidre says with a broad smile.

"There is more that we can deal with later. From this point onward, I will choose, and you will obey. I ask you again, do you accept my instructions, my corrections, my punishments, that your guilt and shame may be released and you may become closer to the perfection we both seek?" I probe.

"Yes Sir, I accept your commands, your corrections, your punishments, that my guilt and shame may be erased and so that I may become closer to the perfection we both seek!" Deidre answers with happy tears streaming down her face.

Those who do not know the power exchange do not know the profound emotional depths it reaches in our souls. Those depths are touched by our rituals, inflamed by our passions, and sated by our play.

"Raise your hands above your head." I state firmly.

I use the power winch control to lower the hook, catching the clasp between the wristbands, pulling her up onto her tiptoes. I grab her head, lacing my fingers into her hair, kissing her deeply. Her full, deeply padded soft lips yield to me, her expression one of surprise. She expected something more crude, perhaps a direct assault on her luscious breasts, or a thrusting into her pussy. I will do that of course, but in my own good time. A Dominant controls nothing if he does not control himself first.

So I start unbuttoning her blouse as I kiss her. This is simple B&D foreplay. I am caressing her while undressing her, while studiously avoiding her breasts for now. If you cannot caress your submissive tenderly, you damn sure better not ever strike her. We are soothing to each other, like a drink of water on a hot day, yet inflaming each other's passions, like a match tossed into a pool of gasoline. Once the blouse is fully open, the wrists unbuttoned, her back arches, trying to thrust out her breasts in offering, as she expects her breasts to now get the attention she craves.

I walk behind her, picking up the scissors from the old metal desk, and start cutting the blouse from her left wrist down to her shoulder, from the right wrist down to her shoulder, then from the waist up her back to her neck. At this point only the loop around each armpit held the shredded blouse on her body. Lifting each side to blow softly in each armpit sends shivers through her body, while teasing fingertips tickle the exposed flesh, resulting in writhing and stifled laughter. She is at least experienced enough to know dominants do not like to be laughed at by their submissives. So I cut the blouse remnants from shoulder to neck on each side, leaving her neck exposed, as the ravaged garment falls to the floor.

Unable to resist the temptation, I pull her hair back to expose her neck to me. I enter a campaign of hickeys and kisses. This is Old School marking and claiming. There is a wild passion flashing in her eyes each time I kiss her. Deidre is breathing heavily, and I am right there with her.

"Sir, please! Use me, touch me intimately! I am yours to be used tonight!" Deidre pleads, obviously used to much less finesse in her dominants, with much shorter relationships. I did the commercial B&D scene when I was young, so I do know how to show her a good time.

"Patience sub. I choose. You endure. This must be horrible torture for you, all this kissing and fondling instead of flogging and cropping. But the young woman hanging from a hook should not get the old guy pissed off while she is so vulnerable. I require your passion. I require you to yield to me. I demand your full and complete arousal." I pause to sniff the air.

"I can smell the scent of your arousal, so it seems to be working. We will get to some more familiar impact play in a while. But you are still dressed wrong, and despite my specific instructions to the contrary, which fucking does piss the old guy off. Faced with the command to wear a front clasp bra or go braless, you wore a standard bra. Why did you deliberately disobey my instructions?" I demand.

"Please, Sir. It is all I have, and I cannot afford a new one!" Deidre cries out with a face saving falsehood.

"The truth will out, and that statement just is not true. Afford it or not, you should have gone without. As you will see in mere moments your breasts are better uncovered than bound." I say as I cut up between her breasts, severing the bra fabric between me and Deidre's luscious pendulous breasts. Two quick snips at the straps on her shoulders and the offending garment slides to the floor. Deidre bursts into sobs, hanging her head.

"Take mercy on me Sir! If I didn't wear a bra, you would know I am a slut!" Deidre pleads, finally yielding the truth.

"I already know you are a slut, Deidre, that is why you are here in the first place. I've seen your private album on FetLife. You have several pictures with three men's cocks inside you at the same time, from different sessions. I've seen your MFM and FFM threesome pictures, again, from several different sessions. Your status as a slut is not is doubt, no, you have well and truly earned that -- plus to me, that is nothing to be ashamed of at all." I let her know being a slut is OK by me.

"The thing is Deidre, I want, no that's not right -- I crave you to be MY slut. I want to own you, body, mind and soul. I think that sluts are the best people, especially when they are submissive. You don't need mercy, Deidre, you need a mentor. You need someone who accepts you as you are, who will give you what you need, yet who sees who you can be. Someone who can correct you when you get out of line, hold you accountable, care for you and make you feel alive." I state the obvious.

"That's why you came tonight. That's what you need, and that's what you crave. But if you decide that isn't for you, let me know when we are done, I'll make sure you get a new wardrobe. That choice will also leave me broken hearted. I have such high hopes for you. So let me convince you." I set forth my best answer, as I unzip and drop her skirt to pool around her ankles.

I then pick the accursed skirt up and throw it into the industrial grade automatic shredder which with a loud "Yeow" provides a proper end to another poodle skirt. I keep vanquishing them, but like demons in TV series, they keep coming back.

"Sir, you don't have to convince me. It is I who has to convince you." Deidre laughs.

"You are still young, perhaps misled by those who have trained you so far. Trust me when I tell you that all long term B&D relationships are based upon two fundamental principles: Consent and Risk. Some people say it is Safe, Sane, and Consensual. Others say it is Risk Aware Consensual Kink. If you don't have consent, everything that follows is either rape or abuse." I pause to let that sink in.

"If you aren't aware of the risks, and how to control them, then people get hurt, maimed, or even killed. Speaking of which, before we go any further tonight, I need to re-verify your safe words are still red for stop, yellow for pause, and green for more please?" I explain and re-check.

"Yes Sir, all green with me. I could listen to you talk forever. But my tits are hanging out un-groped and you haven't even fondled my pussy." Deidre gushes, trying to urge me on to having more intimate contact with her.

"Patience sub. I choose. You endure. Even when I babble like a brook. There will be plenty of play to go around. You are so eager and I really like that about you. But your complaint is well justified, despite your disobedience. I should be looking at your bare pussy, but you wore plain white panties, the absolute worst of all. 'The Flag of Ragtime', the notice you are on your period." I show my dislike of her disobeying my instructions and why.

"Yes I know, that despite showing your spread open cunt and cock filled cunt and girlfriend licked cunt to every friend on FetLife (and you have A LOT of friends since you are so pretty), you are afraid I would think you were a slut, and even more silly, that I would think less of you for that. I will say I find that rather quaint given those circumstances, and also quite a compliment that you held my opinion in such high esteem. I would also say it has something to do with the desperation of being the last black girl alive from your town, without any family, no home, no income, and nothing but working as a hooker on the streets to fill your belly with more than cum." I try to show her why it makes no sense.

"So you wanted to make a good impression, yet rather than being obedient, which as you noted yourself earlier, any dominant craves, instead you chose to substitute your own fears. So let the punishments begin." I explain mirthfully and intone somberly at the end.

"Now we are getting somewhere, Sir." Deidre laughs playfully.

"Yes indeed. Since you deliberately disobeyed me twice, we will have fifty strokes, times two offenses, for a total of one hundred strokes. Before you can finish this audition, you must complete one hundred strokes of a pen, writing 'I will not substitute my judgment for that of my dominant, but will obey him completely.' Then I will accept your apology." I say sternly.

"You have got to be fucking kidding me! Lines? Is that the best you've got?" Deidre thrashes in frustration.

"Questioning my punishments is not wise. I am not finished, and you are risking double punishment for that which is already double." I warned her sternly.

"Ooh, I'm so scared. Will I have to write two hundred lines? Why don't you hit me with your purse while you are at it? Fucking lightweight Fifty Shades wannabe!" Deidre spat at me in derision.

I take the ball gag and pairs of nipple clamps out of the drawer of the large WWII surplus metal desk and silence her. Noting her nipples are small, like fifty cent pieces on her big breasts, I conclude they are all natural. I pinch those nipples hard enough to make her scream into the ball gag and hold it for a few seconds to let it sink in.

Then I put the nipple clamps on, and screw them down hard. I add another set on her lower lips, noting she has a very simple pussy design, meaty thick labia, much darker than her chocolate brown skin, almost black. Simple man in the boat hooded clit at the top of the slit. I snap the clamps on her labia and screw them down tight too. Tears are streaming out of her eyes, while she is tensing and releasing involuntarily from the pain.

"Since we didn't cover how to communicate safe words while a ball gag has silenced your trashy mouth, you will use the fuck finger on each hand for red/stop, the pointer finger for yellow/pause, and thumbs up for green/more please. Indicate your understanding with thumbs up on both hands or this is the end of the audition." I demand in a severe tone of voice.

Deidre immediately straightens up, and gives me two thumbs up.

"Good, Deidre. I would hate to think your false bravado has collapsed so soon. I see you shave your pussy. That is unacceptable. From here - " I drew a line with my finger across the top of her slit parallel to her waistline, " to here", using the same finger along her waistline, then down to her slit and back up to the other side to the top of her other hip, " - this entire region will never be shaved while we are together." I tell her very solemnly.

"In fact you will use Women's Rogaine to get a nice full bush as soon as possible. If you agree to this condition, Nod your head yes, or shake your head to disagree. The area from the top of your slit to your bunghole you can do with as you wish, I prefer you leave it hairy. Do you accept this condition for as long as we are together, nod your acceptance now." I make one of my conditions known to her.

Deidre immediately nods her head yes vigorously.

Going to the desk, I pull out the flogger and the crop from the bottom drawer. I return to Deidre, unscrewing the clamps on her breasts a little and then yanking them off. You could practically see her nipples throbbing with each heartbeat. So I pinched them hard several times just to make sure that is true. Deidre starts kicking her legs, so I go to the closet and retrieve the spreader bar, locking each ankle into the cold metal restraint, and spreading her legs wider than shoulder width, so her weight is now entirely on her wrists and arms.

"Do you want me to use the riding crop on your breasts?" I ask Deidre neutrally.

Deidre vigorously shakes her head no.

"Very well then. You have chosen the flogger for the first round, and the riding crop for the second. As a 'fucking lightweight Fifty Shades wannabe', level ones and twos are out, so it will be threes and fours for the first round and fours and fives for the second. Twenty five per breast, fifty per round. Then your cunt gets a round, then your tits get to meet Mister riding crop. Then your pussy gets its second round." I explain carefully for Deidre.

Deidre tries to say something and struggles, only to end up spinning around.

"Oh, quite right my dear, we need to put your feet back on the ground or who knows where the blows might land?" I laugh as I use the winch to get her a solid footing, no longer on her tip toes, nor spinning in the air.

I can't resist her beautiful toned legs in the dark hose, running my hands up and down them, caressing her tender inner thighs, to soft moans from behind the ball gag. Her legs are finely sculpted, from lots of walking or running. Every time I focus on a different part of her body she reveals new beauty to me. In our long chats online over the many months I have known her, I have enjoyed her wit, sense of humor, and a perspective of a young woman generally wise beyond her years. Color me very impressed.

"So you may be curious about the three's and fours. I was taught by a female dominant to measure out blows in impact play the same way we measure horses: by hands. So I will measure out three hands distance from your breasts, then position the flogger there, and strike the blow from there. I propose to give you three's up until about halfway, then four's the rest of the way. Give me a thumb's up when you are ready to proceed." I say warmly as I start chewing, sucking, and licking on her nipples.

I don't know if she gave me the thumbs up right away or not, because I am too busy making a feast of her nipples. It must have worked because her breathing returned to the same heavy pattern from when we were first making out. Pulling away after reattaching the nipple clamps and screwing them down hard, I see her hands are giving me the thumbs up sign.

I pull the flogger from the desk, place my right hand at the middle of her breasts, halfway between her chest and her nipples. I put my left hand atop it, then my right hand atop it, and use the left to horizontally mark the location, at the bottom of her chin. I put the flogger there, and begin letting the multiple strands of red leather laces slice through the air to strike her tits.

"One, one, Two, Two... Twelve, twelve" I count out the blows as they rain down, evenly covering the top of her tits, making her look like she is wearing a strange crisscross bra.