Deconstructing the Professor

A reminder since apparently following instructions has been difficult for you, slave. Each disobedience will be followed by a harsh and humiliating punishment. You are already at 3!!! You should know that no one has ever been able to refuse submitting to me and I doubt very much if a stupid ass Nigger like you will be the first.

Now accept your role as a slut and submit....

Your White Mistress

P.S.-Now get fucking yourself cunt!

Fury bubbled through me. How dare she make such ridiculous presumptions and demands of me? I read the letter a second and third time trying to find a passage that could be the proof I needed to prove once and for all it was Madison. Yet, as usual, she seemed to craft her obnoxious demands in such a way to make it clear to me it was she, but to protect herself as well. Furious, I threw the letter on my desk. I went to stand up, but felt myself bound to my chair with invisible restraints. My panties were so wet I could feel my juice leaking down my leg. My anger began to falter as my desire to come took over. Again, in a pattern that was becoming more consistent and alarming, I took Madison's stained panties in my hand and brought them to my nose. The aroma, much stronger than the previous scents I had lustily, dementedly sniffed, was also the most intoxicating I had smelt. It was heavenly and a powerful attack on my senses. I leaned back into my chair, pulled up my skirt and began to rub my fevered vagina. I closed my eyes, remembering my submissive acts when married and rubbed my clit frantically while attempting to retrieve any of Madison's remaining juices.

Madison walked into my office, closed the door and spoke angrily, "What are you doing with my panties, Nigger?"

I quickly took her panties out of my mouth and stammered, "I-I-I don't know."

Madison walked over to me, dressed entirely in black, grabbed me by my hair and pushed me to the ground.

Fear overwhelmed me and I stuttered, "I-I-I am sorry, Ms. Adams, I don't know what got into me."

She laughed harshly. "Fuck, you really are a stupid fucking Nigger. How the hell did you ever get a job as a professor? You did it because you are a slave. A slave for white pussy. You want to be my personal Nigger dyke, don't you?"

My pussy dripping wet, it was hard to deny it, but I tried to stay strong. "No," I weakly protested.

Her harsh laugh echoed through my small office. "You are too funny. You really believe you have some control in this situation, don't you?"

Her tone and self-confidence scared me and my own pride and confidence seemed to fade into emptiness. I feebly defended, "Yes, Ms. Adams. I am your professor."

I felt a hard slap on my face as she explained, "Shut up, Nigger. I am the professor now. The professor of discipline. And you are my student. My fat, stupid, black-ass Nigger student. Is that clear?"

My cheek burning in shame, I whimpered, "Yes."

"Yes, what?" she asked, her hand moving back as if she was going to strike me again.

"Yes, Professor," I replied, hoping that was what she wanted to hear.

Her hand fell to her side and she ordered, "Now come for me, you darkie. Come on all fours, like a good Nigger pet."

My vagina so wet, so excited, I obeyed and began to rub my cunt like a horny slut in front of my white student. It took less than a minute to feel my orgasm building and less than another minute for me to let out an inaudible scream as I came from my humiliating racist treatment.

My orgasm spread through me like a tidal wave of pleasure and, when the final soft waves flowed through me, I opened my eyes. I was in my office, panties in my mouth and somehow on all fours on my floor, like a dog.

Ashamed, I quickly took off the panties and stood up. A small puddle of my cum was on the floor. Mortified, I quickly cleaned it up and tried to get my bearings back.

What was happening to me? Why could I not resist the ridiculous order given by an uppity, privileged white girl? Why had I come so hard from being treated so inferiorly? Who was I becoming? And lastly, could I resist the inevitable fall that Madison had already implied?

I obeyed Madison's obscured order and placed my panties in my left hand drawer, my mind desperate to find a way out of this mess.

9. CREATIVE MASTURBATION

The drive home was hell, my mind seemingly playing tricks on me. Everywhere I turned I thought I saw Madison. Anxiety riddled me as I tried to figure out a way to end this once and for all. Between Madison's words and my naughty daydreams, I had begun to act in a way I had been critical of my whole life; a way that men had tried to treat me for years. The thought of falling further petrified me and I knew I had to stop this once and for all...yet that evening....

Around ten, I was getting ready for bed, having ignored as best I could the earlier memories of the day. I remembered that Madison's soiled panties were still in my briefcase. I went downstairs and grabbed a plastic sealed bag to keep the panties, when I should have thrown them away. When I pulled them out, the temptation was too strong and I tentatively took a quick sniff of her sweet sex sealed in her cotton undies. Unfortunately for me, it was all it took to shift my mind from proud black woman to horny eager submissive wannabe.

I grabbed the letter and read it for the umpteenth time. My first task was to cum tonight without using my hands or toys. Of course, I had no plans of following through with the orders set out for me, but my body had other ideas. Suddenly really horny, I scanned my room for something I could use to obey the order. Seeing my brush, which had a three-inch handle, I grabbed it and went to my bed with Madison's panties. Getting completely undressed except for my nightie, I lay on my back and put the white girl's soiled panties back in my mouth. I could only imagine how ridiculous I looked with the white underwear in my mouth, but I didn't care at the moment, my only focus my needy vagina. The scent of Madison's vagina juice so close to my nose was exhilarating. I sucked her panties into my mouth, searching for any last remnants of the powerful white woman. Opening my black legs wider, I slid the brush handle easily into my damp vagina. I began to quickly pump the brush in and out of me, disappointed the brush wasn't longer.

Suddenly, I was transported back to my office, with a still tied Emily sitting on my chair. The events replayed exactly as they had earlier today, but this time instead of leaving she announced, "Professor Jefferson, Mistress insisted I could not leave your office unless I brought you to orgasm first."

My pussy tingling already from seeing the beautiful Emily bound a few minutes earlier, I suddenly was craving such attention. When I didn't protest or refuse the offer, Emily pushed me onto my desk and spread open my black legs. She quickly discarded my already damp panties and buried her pale white face between my dark lips. While she licked my swollen clit, she slipped two fingers inside my bubbling volcano. I let out an out-of-character scream the instant Emily buried her fingers inside me. Fucking me like a man, she pumped my vagina hard and fast, her mouth never leaving my clit. Soon my orgasm was brimming at the surface and one deeper penetration, which widened my vagina lips, an orgasm shuddered through me. Her fingers stayed in me, keeping my pussy lips stretched apart...holding me open while my juices flooded out of me.

The orgasm finally complete, I lay in my bed completely drained and sexually satisfied in a way I could not remember ever feeling. I looked between my legs and gasped. The brush was almost completely in me, far past the handle. I slowly pulled it out, wincing as the bristles pricked my now overly-sensitive vagina.

Completely exhausted, my legs numb, I didn't bother getting out of bed, instead falling into a blissful slumber.

*****

The next morning I woke up to an odd smell, slightly pungent, yet oddly appealing. As I opened my weary eyes, I realized my face was buried in Madison's panties. In one immense wave, yesterday came flooding back. My cheeks burned with shame at my weakness and what I had succumbed to. Luckily, no one had yet seen my growing number of indiscretions. My body already warming up, I knew I was going to be adding to that number. For some reason, remembering the clear instructions of the letter, I scanned the room again for something I could use. Unlike the brush yesterday, nothing was an obvious choice. I sighed, getting frustrated, my pussy pleading for attention. I stood up, my legs still Jello, and started searching my room. I had perfume bottles but the lengths were too short, and if the contents somehow sprayed in me that would not be good. I had a comb, but the handle was thin and rather flimsy; I didn't want to think what would happen if it broke. I continued scanning the room, getting more and more agitated. Finally, I noticed the remote control for my television. It was long enough, but the buttons were an issue. But my need to come taking away any logical reasoning, I returned to my bed. Worried my moans could wake my children, I shoved Madison's well used panties in my mouth. My vagina already well lubricated, I shoved the odd pleasure-stick in my vagina.

I was suddenly dressed in a cheerleader's outfit and Madison had me crawling on all fours while hooked to a leash. I was led to Ben Mauer, our all-star white quarterback. He was still in his uniform and dripping with sweat.

Madison said "Here is your promised Nigger." She pulled my chain until I was at his feet and handed it to Ben.

"Thanks, baby," said Ben suavely.

Madison sat down on a nearby chair and watched.

Ben quickly discarded his sweaty uniform and padding and presented his rock-hard, eight inch cock to me. He ordered, "Get sucking, bitch."

Excited and nervous, I opened my mouth and took his stiff cock in my mouth. I struggled to get into any rhythm and Ben finally grabbed my head and began pumping his cock in and out of my mouth. After two minutes of hardcore face-fucking, he pulled out and demanded, "Bend over, bitch. Time for the quarterback to get into the end zone."

I obeyed, like a good slut should, and felt his cock easily slide in my wanting vagina. He grunted, "Holy shit, Madison, this Nigger is tight."

Madison laughed. "Well enjoy it, she won't be for long."

He grabbed my hips and began to really pound away at me from behind. He asked, "How does the Nigger like white meat?"

I moaned, loving what he was doing to me, "I love white meat."

The hard fucking continued for a few minutes until I heard him ask Madison, "Where should I shoot my wad?"

Madison responded, "Your choice. You can spray your dominant seed up her cunt and right into her womb or pull out and spray your superior juice all over her face."

Both choices mortified me, but my orgasm was building, and I just kept enjoying the quarterback's white cock buried in me.

"What do you think, slut? Should I cum up your black cunt or all over your black face?"

I didn't want to be the one to choose, so I avoided it by trying to manipulate him with dirty talk, degrading myself even more, "I'm your slut, do with me as you please."

"Fuck, she is a submissive little slut, isn't she?" the quarterback said, seemingly impressed by my whorish declaration.

"This is just the beginning," Madison teased, her eyes staring directly into mine.

The quarterback grunted, "I'm coming Nigger, I'm shooting my seed deep in your cunt." The moment I felt his semen coat my vagina walls I too came, feeling his seed fill me completely. He didn't slow down as I shook and quaked through another humiliating orgasm.

I opened my eyes just as the orgasm fluttered to an end and was surprised to realize I was on my knees and the remote control was lodged deep in my cunt. I spat out Madison's panties and rolled over onto my back. I pulled out the remote control and looked at it, coated with my cum. I sighed, realizing what I had just done and lay on my back, depressed. As soon as I had recovered from coming, common sense came rushing back to me and I felt guilt and shame at what I had just done to myself and what I had just fantasized about. I took a long shower, attempting, like Lady Macbeth, to wash away my sins. Unfortunately, as with Lady Macbeth, the sins don't just wash away.

*****

I went grocery shopping, worked out, had a second shower and read a book. I did everything I could do avoid thinking about my obvious predicament. Doing a quick cleaning of the house, I ended up in my son's room and snooped in his dirty laundry. Finding a pair of his underwear, I looked at them closely and saw what looked like a semen stain. I felt myself put them in my pocket and returned to my room.

Reading the letter again, I knew there was no way I could go to church without panties. It was just far too morally wrong. I also knew that wearing all white, as she ordered, would give her even more power, something I could also not allow. I looked at the threat: three punishments. I pondered what they would be and I pondered how many more she would add when I didn't obey her orders again. Then I shook my head; the idea of her punishing me was preposterous. Yet, like every other time recently, I felt a tingle down below. I let out a sigh and, looking at the clock, figured I had an hour before I had to start making supper.

Oddly, even though I had no intention of following the other commands laid out for me, I decided, absurdly, to obey the masturbation order. I went to the kitchen and pondered what I could use. I found lots of potential pleasure sticks: a wine bottle, a Coke bottle, a turkey baster and then, remembering a sorority initiation task when I was pledging, I opened the fridge.

I grabbed a long, thick cucumber, similar to the cock I had fantasized Ben having, and walked, well, rushed in all honesty, to my room. I tossed my son's underwear and the cucumber onto my bed and quickly got undressed. Once on my bed, I rubbed the cucumber up and down my pussy lips, getting them nice and wet. The cucumber was wider than any cock I had ever had in me. I grabbed my son's underwear with my free hand and put it to my nose; a very different scent than the girls' panties, yet somehow just as intoxicating. I searched for the stain and brought it to my mouth just as I allowed the cucumber to enter me.

Suddenly I was at Madison's sorority, naked, in the center of the room, with a dozen white girls watching me fuck myself with a cucumber, like some nasty whore.

Madison, who had another unrecognizable girl between her legs, ordered, "Professor Jefferson, why are you fucking your coochie like a cheap hoochie mama, like a 2-cent whore, in front of my sorority?"

Other girls made lewd comments that only added to the humiliation, as did the whispering among each other. Shamed, I had no answer. I finally answered, "For you, Ms. Adams."

"For me? But you're fucking yourself in front of my sorority sisters in our sorority house. Are you auditioning? Maybe you aspire to be our sorority house Nigger. Is that what this is about?"

A part of me found it appalling and deeply galling to have this painful, shameful racial history invoked so callously by this callow, bratty white girl. Asking me, a professor of gender and race studies, if I 'ASPIRE' to be their 'sorority house Nigger'! I was so humiliated and infuriated, and yet my vagina was all the more juiced and agitated. I was speechless but felt my head nod up and down.

"But house Niggers were generally the light-skinned Niggers, the ones with white blood in them who were favored by whites because they were smarter and better looking, looked and acted more civilized, farther from the jungle, more human, less like apes and monkeys. The real darkies like you were generally field Niggers, weren't they?"

My God! The arrogant white girl had gotten me to agree that I 'aspired' to be her sorority house Nigger only to throw it back in my face and REJECT me for being too dark, telling me a 'darkie' like me that looked like an ' ape and monkey' would generally be a 'field Nigger'! Personally, this was bad enough, but professionally it was made worse by the fact that this was historically accurate, and that colorism is so historically obdurate as to be virtually universal culturally even to this day—insidiously inserting itself even between members of the same family, including my own. It was all too much for mind to handle, but my gushing gash had a mind of its own.

"Then again," Madison mused aloud, "house Niggers were more intellectual, at least compared to other Niggers, often learning how to read. And you are a professor, after all. Perhaps we can make an exception if you agree to be bred by lots of white men and boys, like you were with the twins, who look white and don't take after you at all. Do you agree to be white bred? Of course this was a privilege and house Niggers were known to be utterly loyal. Do you agree to be utterly loyal and white bred?"

I hesitated, humiliated, and yet felt my delirious head dumbly nodding again. Girls cheered and heckled as I continued to pump the long green vegetable in my vagina.

"Say it, slut?" Madison demanded.

My vagina burning hot, the cucumber widening my pussy lips like never before, had me in a delirious state, that I would agree to almost anything. "Yes," I moaned, my orgasm building.

"But you are a proud, black woman with a prestigious job?" Madison pointed out.

My orgasm bubbling closer to release, I proclaimed, "I don't care. I'm your slut. Your house Nigger. All the window dressing of how I am perceived is just a front. You saw past that, Mistress Madison, and to the real me. A Nigger slave eager to please their white Mistress."

Madison was pleased, "Come for me, House Nigger, come for your white Mistress. Come harder than you have ever came. Now Nigger. Now."

My whole body spasmed and quaked as another orgasm coursed through me my entire body. I lay completely spent on my bed, the cucumber still deep inside me. Each fantasy that penetrated my head became nastier, more submissive and led to an even more extreme orgasm. I hated myself so much for what I was becoming, what I was fantasizing, yet the pleasure that came with it was becoming more and more addictive. I craved it the way I used to crave nicotine when I smoked. Yet, my mind was now betraying me too. This fantasy was much nastier and the historical knowledge thrown in my face was bizarrely erotic and yet disgraceful. Worse yet, it was my own mind, not Madison, creating these humiliating historical shots. Why was my subconscious creating such derogatory scenes? Not to mention the implied reference to my two children. What was becoming of me? And more importantly, how could I stop this accelerating train that seemed to be picking up steam?

Looking at the clock, I cursed, realizing I needed to start supper soon. I had one more quick shower and was walking down the stairs when my son walked in, sweaty from a game of basketball.

He said he was going to jump in the shower and my first thought was devastatingly humiliating. 'I wonder what his underwear will smell like?'

10. SUNDAY BLOODY SUNDAY: Revelations

I dressed in my Sunday best, ignoring Madison's ludicrous request to not wear panties to church. It was actually this request that finally last night pushed me to ignore my growing temptations and stand tall, proud and defiant. Although being defiant to a 20-year-old college girl did seem rather pathetic.