Taking Liberties: A Freeuse Novella

"May I get you some breakfast, Mama?" Keisha asked, as she went to the counter.

"Uh, sure," I said as I sat down across from Amber.

"So how long are you planning to stay?" Amber asked.

"I'm not sure," I said. "A few days, at least."

"I see," Amber said.

"Is that a problem?" I asked, her tone hard to read.

"Of course not," Amber said. "After all, you do pay all the bills."

"Yes, I do," I agreed, as Keisha placed a plate before me. I was happy to see Amber was at least acknowledging her freeloading status.

"And we sincerely appreciate it," she added.

"I imagine that you do," I said rather sarcastically.

"But we won't stop doing what we're doing," Amber said, as I felt her foot... which was still in those black nylons... I imagined she had quite a few pairs... drifting up my leg.

"And what's that?" I asked, not swatting her foot away, but allowing it to move slowly upwards.

"I believe Keisha made it crystal clear yesterday," Amber said, not advancing her foot past my knee, but now slowly gliding it back and forth. "This entire house is a freeuse zone."

"That's still the most ridiculous thing I've ever heard of," I said.

"It's actually very liberating," Amber smiled. "Isn't that true, Keisha?"

"Yes," Keisha whispered.

"Does it make you ashamed?" Amber asked, her tone suddenly questioning. "And please answer frankly, not what you think your mother or I want to hear."

"No, not at all," Keisha said. "And Mama, I think you've been able to see the contentment in my face ever since you arrived. It must be obvious how much I love everything Amber does to me, and everything she makes me do. I admit I'm a bit concerned about your immediate future, but right now, I wouldn't want to change anything about my own life."

"But the very idea of freeuse takes women's progress back decades," I pointed out.

"How so?" Amber asked, her foot now drifting up between my legs, the robe and my nighty not at all effective as barriers.

"Because women, especially black women, have fought for equality, and yourrrrrrr..." I explained, having used this logic during many discussions over the years, although usually with men, but then I stalled when her foot was suddenly resting against my pussy.

"Yourrrrrrrr, what?" Amber asked, her foot now just resting there.

"Your disregard for that fight, and for the privileges of equality you have today even though you're a woman, is appalling," I finished.

"Have we really come that far, Liberty?" Amber asked, her foot now slowly moving up and down my slit.

"Yesssss," I moaned, the pressure directly against my pussy bringing undeniable pleasure.

"I mean, really?" she continued, applying firm pressure to my pussy. "Isn't it all a façade?"

"A façade how?" I asked, trying to focus on the conversation, unsure why I was allowing her to rub my pussy, except maybe because it felt so good.

"Because true equality is a myth," Amber explained, which deep down I knew was true. Being white still had a plethora of advantages, being black still had many disadvantages; men still had a lot of power, while women of all races were still struggling to be seen as equals in the eyes of the opposite sex.

"There's still lots of work that needs to be done," I agreed. "I'll give you that."

"To say the least," Amber said, now moving her foot in a slight rotation, which caused even more stimulation, and provoked a slight gush out of me.

"But how could freeuse advance any of this?" I asked.

"It liberates women who've been tricked into thinking they're more than they are," Amber stated, pushing harder against my fevered pussy.

"Whaaaat?" I asked, glancing at Keisha, who turned away the moment I looked her way. I figured she knew exactly what was happening, and had decided to do nothing to influence how matters developed. Or in other words, I could sink or swim: it was up to me.

"Many women have been taught to deny their truly sexual selves through feminism or protest movements for equality," Amber began, something I myself had actually argued in an essay I'd written three years ago... although it was super unlikely Amber would have happened across that article.

"I would argue the Feminist Revolution has awakened our sexual selves," I interrupted, which was where my essay had gone once I'd articulated how men in positions of power had manipulated feminism for their own purposes, which included demonizing sexuality, even though they propagated it through pretty much all mediums.

"Then you're not going to approve of my next point," Amber warned, as she began moving her foot both left and right, each pass rubbing against my clit.

"I can't wait to hear thiiiis," I moaned, having been controlling my arousal pretty well.

"I've discovered that older women, especially women in positions of power, and most especially women of colour, are natural submissives, who crave to subject themselves to the strong will of a white man or woman," she said.

"That's ridiculous," I said, that claim seeming to be my go-to response to something I didn't like, and yet that I knew was deep down true in my case.

"Is it?" she asked, as she pushed her foot firmly against my pussy.

"Yesssssss," I responded, although it was more of a primal moan, which was utterly embarrassing.

"If you say so," she shrugged, taking her foot away... even as the pleasure was increasing. "What do you think, Keisha?"

"I've never felt freer in my life," my daughter responded. "But that doesn't necessarily mean it's something my Mama would like."

"Like? No, probably not, at least not right now. But it's exactly what your mother needs," Amber asserted, as she stood up. "She just needs to accept it."

I was so horny, my head beginning to cloud over, I was unable to respond.

Amber, taking my silence as acquiescence, added, "And in this house, women are required to wear nylons at all times."

"I never wear nylons," I said, instead of outright saying 'no', or 'that's ridiculous', yet again.

"While you're here you will," Amber said.

"Just wear them, Mama," Keisha urged.

"They're just another man-made artifice used to sexualize women," I pointed out.

Amber swung her leg up and onto the table right in front of me, which was pretty impressively limber, and asked, "Don't these nylons make my legs look sexy?"

"They do accentuate your legs," I agreed, admiring her long legs, her red painted toenails, that indeed looked sexier behind the black shading.

"Touch them," she ordered.

"What?" I asked.

"Touch them," she repeated. "Feel how soft and sensual they are."

For some reason, partly out of natural obedience, partly out of curiosity, I did. And I was astounded by how soft they were. Obviously pure silk. "Oh my, they're soft," I said with awe in my voice.

"Yours are waiting for you on your bed," Amber said, taking her leg away.

"But they're white," I objected, knowing that except for racial play or being a nurse, no black woman would ever wear them. Back nylons sure, nude sometimes, even red for a flamboyant look... but never white.

"Yes they are," Amber agreed. "Just put them on."

Before I could respond, she'd left the kitchen and was gone.

I looked up at Keisha, who said, "You should go back home."

"What? No, I just got here. I need some time away; all I was doing there was crying my eyes out," I objected, even though I knew she was right... the longer I stayed here, the deeper I could get caught up in this sick and sinister sex play web Amber was spinning. Yet for those same reasons, I felt compelled to stay.

"She has her eyes on you," Keisha warned.

"I can deal with her," I said.

"It sure didn't look like it."

"Excuse me?"

"I know what she was doing to you under the table."

"T-t-t-that was just a moment of w-w-weakness," I stammered defensively.

"More like ten minutes of it. She's great at exposing and manipulating a woman's weaknesses," Keisha said.

"Is that what she did to you?" I asked.

"No, she asked me endless questions about things I'd never thought about before, as we explored my secret desires, and thus awakened my true being," Keisha said. "But other women have succumbed because of their weaknesses. All she needs is an opening, and she goes for the kill."

"Well, although I can see a canny look in her eyes, I think I can look after myself," I said. "But..." I began looking around to see if Amber was going to walk in, like she'd done more than once last night, "...I do have to admit I'm curious."

"Curious about being with a woman?" Keisha asked.

"Yeah," I agreed.

"I'm not sure what I can do to help you with that," Keisha said. "And if Amber helps, it will be a pretty wicked introduction to lesbianism."

"I don't know either," I said. I paused, not sure whether I should say what I was thinking, and then decided 'fuck it, no more living in the shadows and biting my tongue', so I just spit it out. "Getting fucked like you were looked pretty amazing."

"Mama!" Keisha gasped.

"Well, you looked pretty damn into it," I added.

"You really want to talk about this?" Keisha asked.

"Yeah, we're both adults, after all," I pointed out.

"I guess," she agreed.

"So what does pussy taste like?" I asked bluntly, kind of liking the awkwardness of the question.

"Mama!" Keisha gasped again.

"It must taste pretty good, if you're willing to lick another woman," I speculated.

"Fine, yes, pussy tastes amazing," Keisha said. "And if you really want to know, it's partly about the taste, but it's more about the experience."

"The experience?"

"Yes, crawling between a woman's legs, admiring her pussy, since every one of them looks different, smelling the unique scent, sampling it, teasing it, exploring it, attacking it, listening to her moans, hearing her get more and more excited, knowing I'm the one getting her off, knowing I have complete control over her pleasure, and then the exhilarating moment when she comes... screams...gushes... and I hungrily lap up that sweet nectar I can never fucking get enough of," Keisha explained at length, her eyes closed while she described the sensuality of pussy licking.

"Wow," I said.

"I... oh... sorry," Keisha apologized, shaking her head, as if she hadn't been talking to me, but rather envisioning herself eating a pussy.

"That sounds amazing," I said. "Men complain about a pussy tasting gross and disgusting."

"Most men are lazy, insensitive, selfish assholes," Keisha said dismissively.

"No argument there," I agreed.

"There's a lesbian club nearby that's open on weekends," Keisha said. "If you're serious about exploring."

"I think I am serious," I said, the experience Keisha had described only enhancing my desire to explore pussy eating.

"There's also a bathroom on campus where you can eat as much white pussy as you want," Amber interjected, startling me.

"Mama can't go in there," Keisha objected.

"Why not?" Amber asked. "If she's curious, or just needs to get her pussy or asshole fucked by some female, there's no better place."

"She'd never be allowed to leave," Keisha said.

"Oh, that's right. You were in there for hours," Amber agreed, and she walked over to Keisha, opened her own robe, and guided my daughter's face into her pussy. "They really do like breaking in newbies."

"Such a place actually exists?" I asked, instead of ignoring her, or attempting to prevent her from using my daughter's face for her pleasure.

"Yeah, it's a place devoted to women of any minority race servicing young white women," Amber explained.

"I can't fathom that," I said, my pussy still burning from her earlier foot rub, and from my daughter's tantalizing description of eating a pussy, as well as the idea of a lesbian club, and now possibly a lesbian bathroom where I could service young white women, was too much... plus, although I hated to admit it, watching my daughter licking a pussy was also a turn-on.

"Oh, you'd love it," Amber said, looking down at me.

Feeling overwhelmed... I stood up and said, "I think I need a shower."

"I'm about to give your daughter her morning shower," Amber said as I walked away. I didn't respond... I didn't turn back... didn't want to know... I just headed to the bathroom.

I was in the shower... just letting the warm water wash over me... trying to calm down. Already this morning I'd allowed my daughter's girlfriend to give me a foot job (was that a thing between two women?) while my daughter was present and knew what was happening. I'd allowed Amber to use my daughter, and only did my best to ignore it. I'd admitted I was curious about exploring a lesbian encounter. So I'd officially lost control!

As I kept my eyes closed and just enjoyed the warmth of the warm water, my mind wandered, and I imagined myself as the one licking Amber in the kitchen. Licking her white pussy. Doing whatever I was told. Being a good nigger... God, did I hate that word so much when it was uttered by almost anyone in almost any context... yet it turned me on so much when it was used in a sexual way... especially by white women... especially by younger white women... ones just like Amber.

I don't know how long I was imagining tasting my first pussy... tasting Amber's white pussy, to be precise... when the water stopped spraying down on my back, and I opened my eyes to see Amber standing immediately outside the shower curtain, while she brought the detached showerhead very close to my pussy and ordered, "Don't move."

"What are yoooooou...?" I didn't even get a chance to finish the question, as the sudden and powerful stream of pulsing water made me stop mid-sentence, while instant pleasure cascaded through me.

"Just let me get you off, slut," Amber ordered. "It's obvious that you need to come."

"Amber, this is inap..." I began to protest, but the intensity of the water spray had rendered me unable to think straight, as she directed it right onto my clit, instantly creating intense pleasure.

"This is what?" Amber asked, as the spray overcame me, and triggered my orgasm.

"Oh fuck!" I moaned, as I dropped to my knees in the tub, my legs giving out from the intensity of this out of the blue orgasm.

"You've got a quick trigger just like your daughter does," Amber mused, as she dropped the shower head into the tub and left, calling out as she did, "The next time I see you, I expect you to be wearing the nylons and the dress I left out for you."

I remained on my knees, in the tub, shame coursing through me, as my orgasm did the same.

My first orgasm from a woman had been from my daughter's bitch girlfriend. How humiliating! How wrong! How amazing!

I got up weakly, finished my shower, and staggered to my room. I stared at the stockings, and at a purple sundress that would reveal excessive amounts of my tits, legs and ass.

Five minutes became ten while I pondered whether or not to obey Amber. I was torn. Besides their being white stockings, besides Amber being my daughter's girlfriend, and besides my many recent fantasies where I mindlessly obeyed Amber, or someone else young and white very much like Amber, I was completely intoxicated by Amber and her dominant personality.

Yet as a mother, as a feminist, and as a black woman, I shouldn't allow a white woman to treat any black woman, or any woman regardless of her colour, the way she'd been treating Keisha, and was now treating me.

And white, why fucking white stockings? Truth was, it was obvious. She was using the colour reversal as a symbol, although I still wasn't sure of the exact symbolic message.

I sighed.

If I put them on, I was admitting to Amber she was in control.

If I put them on, I was informing Keisha I was weak, just like she was.

If I put them on, it was only a matter of time before Amber would be controlling me in all the ways she was already controlling my daughter.

Luckily, Amber had gotten me off... which gave me the fortitude I needed to resist the temptation to obey her.

I ignored the outfit, put on a sundress of my own, which did a good job of showcasing my big tits without being too revealing. I marched bravely back to the kitchen... and discovered nobody was home.

I was relieved, disappointed and frustrated.

The relieved part was straightforward... I didn't need to allow my weakness to betray me. I wasn't about to be put on the spot, so I needn't lose control of myself. At least not yet.

As for the disappointed part... I'd been looking forward to seeing Amber's reaction to my disobedience. To see her dismay when she saw me disobeying her orders.

And as for the frustrated part... as pathetic as it was... I'd also been somewhat looking forward to seeing what she'd say or do... my pussy already tingling in anticipation of a confrontation that seemed inevitable.

I did what I usually did when I was alone in Keisha's house... I cleaned. The entire house. Spotless. Well... except for Keisha's (and Amber's) room. In the past, I'd done her room too, but this time I didn't want to invade her privacy... for one reason, who knew what I might find in there?

I then turned on my laptop and did some legal work. Which is what I was doing in the living room, while watching Judge Judy (a secret pleasure), when Amber came in... accompanied by a black woman dressed immaculately... in a clearly expensive business suit... all of it black... except for her white nylons.

"Liberty, this is the Dean of the college, Mrs. Hughes," Amber introduced her.

"Uh, hi," I said.

"Hi," she replied; from her face, finding this encounter as awkward as I did.

"Liberty is Keisha's mom," Amber added.

"I see," the Dean muttered embarrassedly.

"I see you decided to disregard the house rules," Amber said.

"I told you I would," I replied.

"We can talk later about your disobedience," Amber said. "Right now, I have another nigger to fuck."

The Dean looked down at the floor shamefacedly.

"Slut, tell my next slut why you're here," Amber ordered, clearly enjoying her humiliation of this woman.

"Please don't make me do that," the Dean whispered, clearly ashamed.

"Tell her, you dumb bitch," Amber snarled, grabbing her blouse with both hands and ripping it open... a couple of buttons flying off.

"I'm here to get fucked," the Dean answered.

Amber pulled the woman's big tits out... she wasn't wearing a bra... and demanded, "Who owns these udders?"

"You do, Mistress," the Dean said sheepishly.

"And who owns this ass?" Amber continued the humiliation by slapping her ass.

"You do, Mistress," the Dean repeated.

"You needn't continue, I get the point," I interjected.

"Do you?" Amber asked.

"Yes," I said.

"Then what is my point?"

"You own her."

"No, that isn't the point at all," she sighed dramatically, and then she snapped her fingers and the Dean dropped to her knees, and when Amber lifted up her own dress, the woman leaned forward and began licking. Amber was obviously without any panties, and I suspected she always was.

"Then what is the point?" I asked, as I watched the black woman, just a few years older than I was, servicing her.

"That I own all black women," she said.

"Excuse me?" I asked.

"I'll speak more slowly for you," she said condescendingly. "I... own... all... black... women."

"You don't own me," I denied.

"Oh, for fuck's sake. This game is getting really old," she said.

"What game is that?" I asked, feeling like this conversation was written down somewhere in an erotic story.

"The one you lose," Amber said. She then added, as she placed her hands on the back of the Dean's head and pulled it deeper into her wetness, "Or perhaps you win the game. Since we both know you're dying to be where this wrinkled old black bitch is right now." Which I thought was blatantly unfair... she wasn't wrinkled at all.