Lesbian MILF Seductress: Chocolate

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"You're the prototype," she vaguely explained.

I sighed, "I don't have time for this."

Ignoring my words again, she continued, "Overworked and under-pleasured is a bad mixture."

"You're only eighteen, what could you know about the real world?" I shot back, annoyed that her assessments of me continued to be correct... but like in the court room, I wasn't going to admit when my opponent was right.

"Deniaaaal, I'm falling under your spell," she said all sing-song, pretentiousness dripping from every word. She added, "Katherine's mom said very similar words to me, and look at her now... a perfect pussy pleaser."

"I'm not Nadine," I pointed out.

"No, you're in worse condition. At least Nadine has a man at home," Bree countered, moving to stand directly in front of me, before shifting her tone to sultry, "although no one can pleasure a woman like another woman... isn't that correct, Katherine?"

Katherine, her head still lowered, unable to make eye contact, humiliation written all over her red cheeks and posture, responded, "Yes, Mistress Bree."

Bree, never breaking eye contact with me asked, as two fingers flicked beneath my robe to glide along my wet, slippery slit, "So do you want the Girl Scout lick special?"

"Leave," I demanded, pushing her hand away, flustered by her intimate touch.

"Denial," she repeated.

I went to close my door as Bree ordered, "Katherine, give our new recruit a pair of free Girl Scout panties."

Katherine's eyes went big, and she looked around behind her before quickly bending down, pulling off her panties and handing them to me.

I watched the act in frozen bewilderment. I couldn't believe how extreme Bree was, nor could I believe how obedient Katherine was. Without even realizing I was doing it, my hand reached out to accept her panties, noticing how wet they felt against my fingers.

Bree said, taking Katherine by the hand, "Have a good evening, Ms. Myers, it appears that we interrupted you in the middle of something."

Still paralyzed with shock, I watched the two girls stride away, hand in hand, while I held Katherine's pink wet panties in my hand. Realizing if anyone walked by, they would see me in a robe with panties in my hand, I hurriedly closed the door and leaned back against it.

I was furious with Bree's disrespect towards me, and equally furious at her treatment of the sweet Katherine. Yet I couldn't deny my pussy was leaking. And she'd even stroked its slick wetness for a moment! I quickly went to my room, Katherine's panties still in my hand, and grabbing both toys, resumed pleasuring myself... both toys now turned on high, determined to finish what I'd started.

My eyes closed, I imagined Bart, a handsome lawyer colleague leaning over above me, slamming his cock into me. We'd flirted a lot in the past few months, and if time ever permitted it, I figured we could do more than just share the occasional working dinner.

As I pumped my cunt with the vibrator and held the magic wand to my clit, intense sensations pulsing through me, my phone rang.

Deciding I wasn't going to be interrupted twice, and whoever it was could leave a message, I continued my self-pleasuring, ignoring the ringing until the message began.

The voice was Katherine's and she spoke in a surprisingly sexy tone, "Sweet Joan, if you're pleasuring yourself right now, which Mistress Bree is confident you are, please think of me eating that sexy black cunt of yours and be sure to smell my panties; I came in them just before coming to see you, while I thought about you joining Mistress' growing harem of submissive sluts."

My eyes went wide, as I stopped fucking myself to listen to Katherine. Her words were shocking, and yet her picture of being between my legs licking my vagina, or in her terms my cunt, took root in my head. Close to orgasm, I mindlessly obeyed her words as I reached for her panties and smelt them. The thought that she had come while thinking of me turned me on, and as I smelt her unique scent, I returned to pleasuring myself.

I closed my eyes and allowed the taboo fantasy of lesbian lust with a girl of barely legal age to play itself in my head. I needed both hands for the two toys, so without thinking, I lodged the panties in my mouth, her taste strong and tangy, surprisingly tasty, and continued to pleasure myself.

Bart had disappeared from the fantasy to be replaced by Katherine, who eagerly licked my pussy. Her white face, a sharp contrast to the colour of my black legs, turned me on even more, and soon I was close to coming.

As I furiously pumped my vibrator in and out of my cunt, while putting intense pleasure on my clit with the wand, Bree's face popped into my head and I heard her telling me, "That's it, my pet. Give yourself to me like a good girl. Submit to your white goddess."

"Fuuuuuuck," I screamed, the panties dropping from my wide-open mouth as my orgasm hit me, both out of pleasure and out of frustration that Bree's imagined demeaning, racist words were the final straw that had broken the camel's back. As my body twitched and shook, the orgasm seeming to continue pulsing through me like waves against a shore, I couldn't believe how the thought of being her pet and she my white goddess had gotten me off. Those were words my own mind had created, even if the implication had begun with Bree earlier. It was my own cognition, no doubt born of my ongoing fantasy of being sexually coerced, that had brought Bree and her dominant personality into my current fantasy.

The long orgasm finally completing its course, I pulled the vibrator out of my leaking cunt, shut down both of the powerful toys and lay in my bed, trying to assimilate why I'd pulled Bree into my fantasy.

I wasn't submissive except when I was reading online stories about it.

I wasn't a lesbian.

I sure as hell had never imagined having a white goddess. I'd spent my whole life overcoming racism to get where I was in my career, and I'd always fought against racist stereotyping.

Exhausted, even though it was only five o'clock, I closed my eyes and drifted into slumber, hoping a good sleep would clear my head.

...

I woke up four hours later, shocked I'd napped for so long, my face buried in Katherine's panties. I sat up, realizing that all those recent events had actually transpired... the front porch confrontation, the masturbation, Katherine's eerily effective phone message, Bree's imagined words just as I reached orgasm... all of that wasn't some strange dream, but I had really experienced them all. My stomach growling, I got up, reached for my phone and ordered some take-out.

I quickly showered, got into my pajamas and opened my laptop to check my messages. My food arrived a few minutes into replying to a few business emails, and I took a break to eat.

I scarfed down my food, hungrier than I'd realized. Returning to my laptop, I noticed two new emails. One was a response to a question I'd asked Carol, a colleague of mine, and the other was from a MistressB.

I sighed, knowing this had to be a message from Bree. I shouldn't have opened it, but curiosity overrode common sense. I clicked on the message:

Pet-to-be:

If I know you, which I do, you went right to your room and pleasured yourself after we left.

I gasped at her completely preposterous and yet completely accurate assessment.

I also imagine when you saw this message you considered just deleting it and not reading it... yet it was a VERY brief consideration before indeed continuing your reluctant, although inevitable, journey to sexual submission.

I was annoyed that she was again correct, but equally annoyed by her pompous words and assumptions. I should have stopped reading at that point, but again curiosity at her spot-on assessments of me kept me reading.

Are you curious how your next-door neighbour ended up being my pet?

Actually, I was incredibly curious. Nadine had always been a polite, sweet, loyal friend, and I still couldn't fathom how she'd ended up on my doorstep last night.

Are you curious how her daughter also ended up being my pet?

That was also something I was curious about... although with the internet, rainbow parties, bisexuality being in and so forth, Katherine's submission was less perplexing, although based on my few interactions with the sweet girl... still surprising.

Are you curious to know how I've recruited a few other pets?

I was. Bree was eighteen years old... how could she even begin to accumulate the lesbian harem she was claiming to have?

Are you curious why I have chosen you to be my next pet?

I reread that sentence a few times. She had chosen me? Why? I wasn't someone she knew at all well... except that her various correct statements about me made me wonder... nor was I someone who was remotely perceived by people as submissive.

Are you curious why your cunt is wet right now?

I reread that sentence too, again annoyed by her accurate hypotheses, yet as I moved my legs together, I realized that without noticing, I had indeed become wet while reading her email. Why indeed? The thought of lesbian sex, let alone lesbian sex with a bossy eighteen-year-old, didn't interest me in the least.

The answer to those last two questions are black and white... pun intended.

YOU

ARE

SUBMISSIVE

!

Ironically, you've never even considered such a possibility until it was presented to you and yet now, even though you want to deny it, the reality that I am right is confusing you.

Fuuuuck! I cursed to myself. All her words were frustratingly true.

If I am correct, and I usually am, you even consider my accusations and behaviour pretentious.

I'd used that exact word to describe her ever since our confrontation today.

Go ahead my pet-to-be, give in to those deep dark desires hidden in the depths of your stagnant sexuality.

Her words were silly, implying that deep down I was a submissive lesbian just waiting for the right moment to break free from society's inter-gender expectations.

Go ahead my pet-to-be, touch yourself for me. Submit to your increasing desire to serve... to obey.

Again the words were silly, pretentious (damn, I can't stop using that word) and obscene, and yet I felt my hand go under my panties and to my very wet pussy. Although maybe her words were on some subconscious level true, I decided that submitting in my own home, under my own rules, wasn't really obeying her... but I was only letting go of pent-up sexual frustrations I'd long held in... even after the amazing orgasm I'd given myself earlier today.

My eyes closed, I rub my pussy, at first just pleasuring myself, then giving in to the absurd fantasy of sexual submission. I imagine she is walking into my house following our prior conversation and this time taking full control. She raises her skirt, snaps her fingers and I, without hesitation, drop to my knees and crawl to her. She looks down at me with that smug 'I-told-you-so' look as I lean forward and begin licking her hairless pussy.

Like when I used to suck cock, loving to have a man grab my head and fuck my mouth, I love the way she grabs my head and grinds her pussy on my face. As I try to lick while being used as no more than a pleasure vessel, my hand moves to my own needy pussy and I begin rubbing myself.

These thoughts of lesbian submission got me near the point of orgasmic bliss quickly, and I opened my eyes to read more of the letter. The next sentence shamelessly brought me over the top.

Become who you are meant to be... a slave to a white Mistress.

"Shiiiit," I cursed, both because my orgasm was exploding through me, and because I was mortified that reading those racist words were once again the final straw.

I again closed my eyes as the orgasm continued pulsing through my body. Finally, a couple minutes later, my orgasm completed, I opened my eyes to read the rest of the email... unable to believe how her words had gotten me off... especially words culminating in such a racist sentence.

Yet, when I realized that was the end of the email, a wave of disappointment hit me. I couldn't understand my feelings, my sudden weakness, or the strange fantasies swirling through my head.

Pulling me out of my confusion, the phone rang. I was worried it was going to be Bree, but it was actually my Mom. I spent the next hour chatting about my parents' summer plans, Dad's health issues, my college sister's bad decisions and finished with Mom's usual, 'when am I going to get a man?' diatribe.

Also, as usual, I was exhausted and annoyed by the time I'd finished talking with Mom. I loved her, but her stubborn, always-having-to-be-right personality was frustrating... especially after the bizarre day I'd had.

Doing what I usually did after a stressful day, I grabbed a movie, this time 'A Time to Kill', and closeted my brain away from all my stresses.

I was near the end of the movie, a little after midnight, watching, for a hundredth time, Matthew McConaughey's great close, when my phone buzzed, informing me of a text message. I ignored it as I continued to listen to McConaughey's riveting speech. Just as the credits rolled, I received a second text.

I grabbed my phone and wasn't surprised to see they were both from the same unknown number. Like the email, I knew I should ignore the texts, yet again I couldn't resist.

The first said:

Check your mailbox.

The second said:

NOW!

I don't know why... curiosity... my submissive side... but I went to my door and checked my mailbox. I opened the door and looked around to see if anyone was watching. Not seeing anyone, I reached into the mailbox, grabbed the package, and returned inside.

Looking inside the package, I became even more confused. It was a pair of white thigh high stockings.

My phone buzzed again.

I went to grab it, annoyed at the symbolism of white nylons. Some people said black women wore them attempting to be white women. I read the message:

Good girl.

I tossed the package on the couch, suddenly furious. This had gone on long enough.

I texted back:

This ends now.

I waited for a response, but none came. I called the number, but it rang and rang. I considered going to speak with Bree's mother, Carrie, but wasn't sure how to broach the subject. After twenty minutes of anxiety and back-and-forth stewing, I decided to go and confront Carrie about her daughter's inappropriate behaviour... even at this late hour.

I threw on a pair of jeans and a sweatshirt and walked the couple doors down to her place. Taking a deep breath, I knocked on the door, happy to see the lights were still on.

A few moments later, Carrie opened it, a satin robe on that clung to her curves to reveal that's all she was wearing. Ignoring her own dishabille, she greeted me warmly, "Joan, what a pleasant surprise."

"I'm sorry about the late hour, but may I come in for a moment?"

"Of course," she offered, opening the door wide and welcoming me in.

Carrie worked as an advisor for the highly respected Governor Greene and, I expected, would be furious when she learned of her daughter's misbehaviour.

Once I was inside, I noticed she was wearing something under her robe, pantyhose, which seemed strange. I checked, "I hope I'm not interrupting something."

"Nothing that can't wait," she smiled, before asking, "Is something wrong?"

"Is Bree here?" I asked.

"No, she's out with Katherine," she answered. "Why?"

"I don't know how to tell you this," I began, suddenly feeling awkward to be having this conversation with her even before I'd begun it.

"Joan, nothing you tell me can surprise me," she smiled. I'd always known that Carrie was pretty, but with her hair down and her charming smile, I could see just how beautiful she actually was.

"Well, this might," I warned.

"Did Bree try to seduce you?" she asked matter-of-factly, surprising me.

"Yes," I nodded.

"She's getting a bit too ambitious," she sighed.

"Ambitious?" I asked, confused by her tepid response.

"Well, her appetite is a bit insatiable," she continued.

"I'm not following you at all," I replied, confusion compounding confusion.

"Well, you remember the rush you felt after your first courtroom victory?" she asked.

"Of course," I nodded, briefly reminiscing about a few years ago and the Salisbery Case.

"Well, Bree seduced and collared her first submissive pet a few months ago, and she seems to really get a sense of accomplishment each time she adds to her growing harem of submissives," she explained again rather matter-of-factly, as if we were talking about Bree's academic achievements (which I knew nothing about).

"You're okay with that?" I asked flabbergasted.

I didn't know Carrie really well, but considering her high-profile job, I couldn't fathom she'd be okay with her daughter's seedy indiscretions.

"Like mother, like daughter," she shrugged.

"Like mother? But you're married!" I pointed out.

"So is Nadine," she shrugged. "So are most of my pets."

"Most... of... your... pets," I repeated, like a parrot... dazed and confused.

"You really are so naïve," she said, shaking her head, before turning her head and calling out, "Slut, get in here."

Although I should have fled her house, I was paralyzed with shock, and stared at the doorway, curious to know who I was about to see... I assumed Nadine.

A moment later, Mrs. Blair, our church choir director and the most prim and proper woman I knew, appeared on all fours, naked except for a pair of black thigh highs.

"Mrs. Blair!" I gasped.

She looked up, clearly embarrassed, but greeted me politely, "Good evening, Ms. Myers."

Carrie explained, "You see Joan, most women are either dominant or submissive, and both my daughter and I have the natural ability to draw submissive women to us."

I glanced down at Mrs. Blair, her big tits sagging in her on all fours position, my own pussy again betraying me as it began to get wet. Returning my attention to Carrie I said, "Well, please tell your daughter to leave me alone."

"I'll pass along your request to her," Carrie smiled, as she snapped her fingers and Mrs. Blair, her face ruby red, crawled to Carrie's feet. "But I don't think very much of your chances: Bree has turned every woman she's set her eyes on so far."

"Well, I guess her streak is over," I quipped.

"My feet, slut," Carrie ordered, and I watched as Mrs. Blair bent down and began licking the top of Carrie's nylon-covered foot.

I stared, in awe of the submissive act, curious to know how Mrs. Blair had ended up in this situation.

"Wondering how Mrs. Blair became my lesbian plaything?" Carrie asked.

"Yes... no," I said, realizing I had to get out of here. The submissive act was beginning to turn me on.

"Come in and I'll tell you," Carrie said, standing to drop her robe, revealing that she was totally nude except for a pair of thigh highs, not pantyhose, and that her privates were completely hairless. She took my hand to lead me through the door to her bedroom.

"What? No, I've got to go," I responded, tugging my hand away and quickly fleeing her house.

Carrie called out, "Come back any time, pet."

Flustered, I hurried back to my house, my panties drenched... which only frustrated me more.

Reaching my door, I saw a package on my step. I grabbed it quickly and returned inside dishevelled, bewildered and horny. Curious, although I knew it had to be from Bree, I opened the package and saw it contained a pair of white panties. I looked for a note explaining the odd package, but saw none. Curiosity overriding common sense, I went to my email to see if I had any new messages. I did. One from Bree, from ten minutes earlier.