Prowling Ch. 02

Her evening went fine but it was a struggle. She was fine and in control through most of the evening, at least the earlier part of the evening. She forced herself to pay no attention to the disgusting pull of her fantasies. She was fine, that is, until she undressed for bed, and then she saw, casually glancing in a mirror, the writing on her ass. Saw it! It was there and the reality of it took her by storm.

"Oh, god!" she wailed, "What am I going to do."

She got an insistent answer to that question and without even thinking about it again, she picked up the phone and made the call. Still naked, breathing hard.

Dave answered and without any preliminaries she announced:

"I'm naked now, Master Dave, just naked and I want to thank you for writing on me."

"Writing where on you?" he asked softly.

"For writing on my ass, on my naked ass!" she said, knowing what he wanted to hear.

"What kind of ass?" he asked further.

She gave in and went on: "For writing on my naked black, nigger ass!"

"Better, girl!"

"Thank you, Master Dave," she said and struggled to finish: "But I'm not ready yet."

"I know that, Nessa, but you will be; you fight it, girl, but know that you're going to lose and you'll come to me. Know that."

"I'll try not to," she said, the determination rising in her again. "I'll try. Good night . . .Master Dave." She fairly forced herself to ring off that way, and, when she was done, sat, naked in her bedroom chair and cried her grief, and her longing . . .longing to be that dirty, dirty, sexy cock slave Nessa again!"

She woke quickly and glancing at the clock saw that it was 1:15 AM. She stirred and was restless, realizing the heat that was rising in her. There were simply times, and Vanessa never knew if it was from hormones, her thoughts and fantasies or what but she would wake in the middle of the night with the lust on her so powerfully that she could hardly stand it. But there was this difference now. In the past there was nothing to do but search the net, disgrace herself in chat rooms and fantasy sights that catered to her desire to be a slave to white cock. But now he was there and, without a forethought, she dialed his number.

She caught herself just in time. It had only rung once and with a loud sob she slammed down the phone, her fingers already entwined in the hair of her pussy.

"Damn you, Nessa!" she growled, "Damn you!"

Then the phone rang, and she was as caught, instantly, as any animal in a trap. She hesitated only to the second ring and picked it up.

"Nessa!" his commanding voice said.

"Yes, Massa Dave," she said, "I'se so sorry to have bothered you."

"Feeling hot, Nessa?" he said quietly.

"Yas, suh," she drawled, "Feeling that night time heat, when dis Nessa wants what she wants, and den dis dumb nigger gal be botherin' you."

"We'll sort that out the next time we meet," he said.

"Too true, Massa Dave," she replied, "And dis gal needs to have dat black ass wupped!"

"Yes, Nessa," he said quietly, "We'll take care of that."

"You . . .you goan ta hep me out here, Massa Dave?" she asked quietly. "Got dis big lust on me and jes playin' with ma coochie ain't seemin' enough."

He gave her instructions then. She went to the computer, as he told her, the phone still in her hand, and turned on the chat program. When he appeared on the computer screen, she said in delight:

"Deres ma Massa Dave! Gonna hep dis bad nigger gal out now."

"Show yourself, Nessa," he said, and she posed for him, doing everything that she told him to do. She stood showing her naked front and then turned and showed her ass. When he told her, she bent from the waist to emphasize her ass cheeks. She reached around, glad she couldn't see him at the time, and with her hands separated her ass cheeks to show her pink ass hole.

"Does you like, Massa Dave?"

"Oh, yes, my Nessa! I like. Now, tell me, girl, do you have any toys there?"

She hesitated only a few seconds, when he said: "You'll get yourself more slaps, if you don't do what you're told here, girl!"

"Yes, Massa," she drawled, "And I'se goan to deserve those slaps; I got this malcom here with me, I calls it."

"Get it," he said, "Get your malcom."

She went off and came back with a more than life sized replica of a white man's cock and balls. It was stiff in erect form and a good eight inches long.

"Dis my malcom," she said softly.

"Put it in your mouth, Nessa; begin to suck malcom off," was his next order and she obeyed him right away.

"On your knees, girl! What the hell are you thinking?" he bellowed.

"Ain't thinkin, Massa," is what Nessa said, and scuttled to her knees, keeping her eyes on Dave, as she sucked more and more of the large white cock into her mouth.

"Nice, girl," he said.

"Yes, Massa," she answered.

"But not as nice as a room full of cocks to suck, is it, Nessa?" he asked.

"No, Massa Dave, dat what dis gal goan to want ta have agin! Dat's for sure, Massa Dave."

"Suck on it, Nessa," he ordered and she worked at sucking on the fake cock, getting more and more wound up in her sucking.

"Now, girl," he said interrupting her, "Set it on a stool and sit on it, fuck yourself with it now."

She moved, got a stool and gingerly, a smile spreading across her face, sat on the fake, erect white cock.

"Oh, yesssss," she crooned, "Not like dat Massa Dave's cock in my coochie but so nice, soooo nice!"

"Bring yourself now, girl, while I watch," her ordered and she became really active, soon enough, wailing her way into her orgasm.

She slumped to her knees, when she was finished.

"Take the cock," he said, "Lick it clean, Nessa, like a good girl."

"Goan do dat now, Massa, jes as you says!" she replied, watching Dave's contented face, as she licked her own wetness off of the rubber cock.

She sat there, once she was finished with malcom and he spoke to her:

"Very nice, Nessa; you're getting ready and will be soon. I want you to think about this, all of this; I want you to think about the fact that there are some issues that we have to work out. I want you to understand that you'll need to come to me soon and we'll work out those issues and you can play again. Do you understand, Nessa?"

"Ya, suh," she drawled, "Dis gal understands."

"Okay then," he went on, "I want you to call me from your office one day this week. I want Vanessa to call me and say to me simply: 'I understand.' Not Nessa, Vanessa. Is that clear, girl?"

"Ya, suh," she said, "Clear as can be, Massa Dave, and dis nigger gal wants to thank you for puttin' up wid this no acount gal tonight."

"You're welcome, Nessa; don't forget to have Vanessa call me!" he said softly.

"No, suh, won't, jes won't forget dat!" Nessa said and he was gone.

She went to the shower, getting herself a glass of wine first. As the water poured down over her, she shook with the after effects, the powerful longing that, she knew, was only partially satisfied but the misery of it swept over her and she wept as she went back to bed.

She felt almost like she had a hangover the next day. Early on, during the day, she simply pushed it from her mind, determined to take a little time later to think it through a bit.

These moods normally radiated to those who worked with her and in her offices, and the results were normally fairly positive. Things went well, although it was a busy day, affording Vanessa little time for her personal agenda.

It was early afternoon before she had some time. She'd had a session with Gail to go over the things that were pressing and the reports on work being done were pretty satisfactory.

"Good," Vanessa said, "I'm going to sit here and veg for just a little."

"The rest will do you good," Gail replied, "You've been pushing at it all day. I'll keep the vultures away from your door for the next half hour."

"Thanks," Vanessa said, "You're, as usual, the best."

Vanessa took the time. She moved from her desk to the alcove in her office where there were comfortable chairs allowing for a different kind of interface, than the traditional desk and chairs in front of the desk.

Gail had come in with a cup of coffee for Vanessa, and she settled in the alcove, overlooking a park to think.

She allowed her mind to wander and the pathway that it chose for the wandering presented her with all of the 'Nessa' events of the recent past. It seemed that her life was a constant struggle between following the fantasies, making them as real for her life as possible, and hating doing that. Vanessa didn't think that she had an answer to that dilemma, that struggle.

Her practical mind suggested that she might look at the current situation and see if there was any part of it that she could find to be positive. She surprised herself with the immediate thought that having a definite, known outlet for her 'Nessa' evenings was indeed far better than the old practice of going out 'prowling' and hoping for the best. From that point of view Vanessa realized that the time with Dave, conflicting though it might be, was more managed and, very probably, safer for her than her former practice, which in this light seemed to be down right irresponsible and dangerous.

She smiled a rueful smile at this train of thought and said to herself:

"You are a sick woman, Vanessa!"

And, although she acknowledged the truth of the statement, in so far as it spoke of her sexual preferences, she also acknowledged the basic truth of the fact that doing such things, dirty things, 'Nessa' things was better within the framework that she'd currently arrived at.

She felt better for the thought, realizing that she still wasn't prepared to simply give in to that kind of existence as a way of life for her, all the time. She was still determined to keep 'Nessa' at bay, as much as possible, a course of action with which she had various degrees of success over time periods.

But with the thought in mind, she reached for the phone and made the call that had been implanted in her mind, and, she knew, was necessary.

He answered the call quickly.

"Mr Ross," she said softly, "This is Vanessa J."

He sounded pleased. "Ms J, how good of you to call."

"I wanted to say to you that 'I understand!'" she continued, knowing he would know what she meant, and, she hoped, appreciate it.

"Yes, yes," he said, "I thought that you would; I was counting on you."

"Yes," she said hesitating.

"Vanessa," he asked then, "Anything else?"

"Yes," she said, "I wish to also express my gratitude to you for seeing that these little scenes, uh . . .adventures, if I can call them that, are done with my safety in mind. I appreciate that."

"Well, aren't you nice!" he said to her then, "Thank you for saying so; I do pride myself in making that one of the main points for such 'adventures' as you call them."

"Sir," she went on, "I'm not . . .un . . .ready just now; I still have some thinking to do, as you might imagine."

"But you will be, I'm sure of it," he said, cutting across her declaration.

"Yes," she went on, "Well, I'm not sure when I'll be ready for that kind of thing again."

"I understand completely," he said, "You just come out here, when you're ready and, if I'm busy, I'll give you a place to wait"

"Thank you, sir, for your kindness," she said softly.

"We'll be in touch, Vanessa," he said ringing off.

She put the phone down and leaned back in the chair, trying to assess how she felt now. She realized that she as much as pledged him more 'Nessa' time, and she wasn't sure that she felt very good about it. But a part of her, a part of her mind, realized that she'd shifted just a bit her comfort zone about this and that part of it was fine. She also decided that she'd do without 'Nessa' for a while, just put her on the back burner, so to speak.

It was then that Gail interrupted her with some things that shouldn't wait. But by then Vanessa was ready for whatever was coming her way. She'd at least, with the call to Dave, gotten a handle for now on 'Nessa' and her wildness.

"You look pleased," Gail said.

"Oh, just organizing my stuff, personal stuff," she answered, "It helps."

"Well, good for you!" Gail said as she put on the desks the items that Vanessa needed to look into.

Almost as if fate were seconding the message, toward the middle of the afternoon, Gail announced that Mr Dave Ross was there to see her.

Vanessa found herself somehow pleased that he was there, and asked that he be shown in.

"Ms. Vanessa!" he said, entering the office, and he was carrying a bouquet of roses, which he held out for her.

Vanessa was pleased. "Why, Mr Dave!" she said, her hand going involuntarily to cover her mouth and her eyes filling with tears. "How nice!" she said, taking them.

"Will you have coffee or tea?" Vanessa asked, pointing him to the seating area.

"I can't stay long," Dave said, "I just came on a whim."

"Do you have time for me to speak to you for a bit?" Vanessa asked.

"Well, of course, I do, when you ask me," he answered.

"Do you mind if I have a cup of tea then?" she asked politely, never really losing the sheen of the way that she related to him in other circumstances.

They sat, once the tea was served, he having decided to have a cup also, and she spoke.

"Mr. Dave, I've been thinking today," she began, "I mean about us, about our . . .our relationship and the way it played out."

"Yes," he said, smiling and nodding, encouraging her.

"I want to say a word of thanks to you. You see, I am intelligent enough to know that my . . .uh . . .acting out these fantasies can be a very, very dangerous thing."

"They can, my dear," he said to her, nodding in agreement.

"Well, it's just that, you see, with you, I have a kind of a secure, a safe context. I've never had that before," she went on.

She hesitated and he spoke: "I'm glad, Ms Vanessa, that you recognize the truth of that; it is, after all, certain, when you deal with me."

"Yes, thank you very much," she said, "I appreciate it." She put her hand over top of his, as she said this.

"It's so nice of you, dear, to express yourself this way to me," he said with obvious appreciation.

"I want to add," she said then, "That I don't put any . . .uh . . . restrictions on our . . .uh, interactions; none at all." She gazed at him, when she said that.

"Lovely," he said, "A most welcome and heartening declaration. I will make sure that you do not regret it. I will work to make our encounters always exciting!"

"Thank you, sir," she said, "And for the lovely flowers."

"Lovely flowers for a lovely lady," was his response, kissing her hand, as he rose to go.

She stopped him then: "Please, sir, one more thing."

"Yes," he said, sitting again.

"It's that I need to apologize," she hesitated and he smiled.

"Yes," he said again.

"For the way that I spoke to you at the end of our last . . .uh . . .time together," she said, struggling but determined.

"You mean: 'Hit me now, hit me now, white boy, and I promise you on the grave of my Momma that I will come for you and I will kill you..'" he said smiling still.

"Yes, sir," she said chagrined.

"It came directly from my loathing for letting myself do that, and I simply projected that loathing on you . . .grossly unfair," she whispered.

"We'll deal with that the next time we're together," he said.

She nodded and said: "Yes, we should! And thank you again!"

He left then, kissing her hand again.

She only barely suppressed the desire to go to her knees and kiss his hand, and he seemed to know it, to sense it, smiling broadly as he left her.

"Vanessa, what are you doing?" she whispered, getting no answer, and not really sure why his coming to see her moved her so.

She worked that way for another week, keeping, constantly keeping her 'Nessa' at bay. It seemed that the whole idea of a context for her outings made her less frantic about it.

Then the scene with the special bag being packed for her transformation after work was repeated. Vanessa was less upset by it this time, with the whole issue of danger being reduced. In her mind she was going to 'Massa Dave's'. It was a more simple thing for her. She was apprehensive. She knew that deep down she didn't like being this way anymore now than she had before, although she would certainly admit to herself that the attraction for living out this fantasy was real for her. The fantasy was important; she had a safer place, a safer way to live it out; it seemed better.

She packed, that morning, a short black pleated skirt, her favorite, a white silk blouse that would be belted at the waist with a slim gold belt. Her thigh highs were going to be a smokey gray, her panties and bra matching pearl gray, with lots of lace on the panties. She packed the bag and was ready.

The day seemed to drag on for her, since her mind was constantly on what she'd be doing after work that day. But she, as usual, forced herself to concentrate. It was time for quarterly reports and her perusal of those showed a profitability that was gratifying. She was pleased with those, and they added to the special feeling of the day that she had.

It was almost wrap up time, when Gail entered and asked if there was anything else that Vanessa wanted her to do.

"No, honey," Vanessa said, "You go and enjoy your weekend."

"Plans, Boss?" Gail asked, and Vanessa was pleased that her secretary/assistant couldn't see how readily she blushed at that enquiry.

"Goin' catting about this weekend," Vanessa said with a huge grin.

"Well, aren't you the cat's meow!" Gail said with a grin. "You enjoy and be careful!"

They both laughed at that, although Vanessa especially appreciated the aptness of what Gail had said.

Then she was alone. She closed up and went to the bathroom that was off of her office. She stripped off her work clothes and stepped into the shower, pushing off the intention, the temptation to play with herself.

"You wait, girl," she drawled in Nessa's familiar patois, "You goan be played wid dis night for sure! Dat's what I says!"

Vanessa laughed at herself at that point, and got dressed for her evening.

She approached Dave's place and parked in the lane leading up to the she realized for the first time, very large house. The phrase that she'd used that last time, the lashing out at him, leapt to her mind, and she didn't try to push it away.

She was out of the car and walking up to the house with a spring in her step. Nessa was to the fore and she was not going to struggle at all. It was fantasy time for Vanessa, prowling time.

She went onto the porch and rang the doorbell, waiting impatiently with just a tinge of fear fluttering around in her stomach.

He answered the door fairly quickly and, obeying an instinct, she went to her knees immediately, kissing his hand.

"Massa Dave," she said with great sorrow in her voice, "Dis Nessa ain't got no sense at all, speakin' to you way she did dat last time, and you jes showing her dat good time, all da time givin' her dat fantasy fulfillment. Dis Nesa, Massa Dave, she sorry! She down right sorry!"

She kissed his hand again.

"What did you say, tell me!" he said softly. She didn't dare not comply, and said in a whispery voice:

"Hit me now, hit me now, white boy, and I promise you on the grave of my Momma that I will come for you and I will kill you."

Once she said it, she broke into tears.

"Dis Nessa, she needs dat wuppin' for sech talk! She do, Massa Dave!"

"Presently, we'll get to that but get up, girl, let me see you; you are a vision of loveliness."

Nessa smiled then and stood, to twirl around a bit for him.

"Pretty panties!" he said, after she twirled.

"Dese pretties, all dese Nessa pretties for dis Massa Dave!" she said happily.

"Well," he said then, "We're going to have a lovely evening, an exciting evening; don't you worry about those harsh words; we'll deal with them later."