Taking Liberties: A Freeuse Novella

Again I should have pushed her hand away, yet I allowed her to freeuse me, like she also freeused my daughter, two fingers slowly moving in and out of me. "Well, I do like that theory better than I'm a lousy fuck, so he doesn't want to fuck me anymore."

"Does he still fuck you?" she asked. "I mean had he still been fucking you before you caught him in the act and fell apart?"

"Yes, pretty regularly," I said, after a brief reflection.

"And yet even though you were getting the dick you needed, you still fantasized about pussy and about me."

"I guess," I said, then realized I was admitting I did fantasize about her, which I also realized I'd already been doing anyway.

"No 'I guessing'," Amber said. "Everyone wants to be free to explore who they really are sexually, but alas, most societies have been forbidding that for five thousand years, give or take: basically since men decided it was okay to go to war for land that wasn't theirs, and that women should be their property."

"I suppose so," I said, her fingers inside me distracting me from being able to process her thoughts and respond to them intelligently.

"You know so," Amber said, and she continued slowly fingering me, while I glanced down and watched my daughter licking her... it was so surreal... all of this was. "You simply don't want to accept it... because you're afraid of the truth... afraid of losing control... afraid of admitting that you desperately want to submit to me and to other white women like me."

"No," I moaned, even though everything she was saying was undeniably true. Yes, I did want to. Yes, I even craved it. Yes, I was afraid. Yes, I knew if I let go of all my control, I'd become an obedient slut who'd do whatever she told me to.

"That denial would be more believable if you didn't moan it, or if you weren't allowing me to finger you while you watched your daughter eating me," Amber said.

"I.... just... just.... Fuck!" I cursed, tearing myself away, and storming off to my room.

"Until next time, sweetie," Amber called out.

I remained in my room by myself for a good half an hour, until Keisha knocked on my door.

"Mama?"

"Yes?" I asked, lying in my bed reading a book, trying to quell the burning inside me... trying to silence the unacceptable thoughts parading through my head.

"May I please come in?"

"Yes, please do."

Keisha came in, sat on the edge of my bed, and said, "I'm really sorry."

"I'm sorry too," I said. "I should have paid more attention to your warnings yesterday."

"And she's just getting started with you; you know that, right?" Keisha said, worried about me.

"I'm beginning to understand that."

"And she doesn't lose," Keisha added. "Ever."

"Hearing that just makes me want to win."

"But are you winning?"

"Not so far," I laughed humorlessly.

"I can't believe I went down on you," Keisha said.

"I can't believe it either," I said, still thinking this all seemed like a twisted dream... that all of this was a twisted dream.

"You did seem to like it," she smiled timidly.

"I can't deny that," I said, smiling back. "But sweetheart, we committed incest."

"I know, I know," Keisha acknowledged. "But I don't see incest as wrong."

"You don't?"

"No. I mean I wouldn't want to get pregnant from some brother I don't have," Keisha continued, "But what's wrong with giving the person you love most in the world the greatest pleasure a woman can experience?"

"You make it sound a good thing," I said, after I took a few seconds to process her words.

"Mama," Keisha said, "I love you, and I'd never do anything to hurt you."

"I know you wouldn't, honey."

"But if you stay here, you'll become a broken, trained pet like I am."

"You're honestly okay with being Amber's pet?"

"Yes, Mama," Keisha nodded. "I'd been struggling for the past couple of years with who I was, with my sexual identity, my confusing fantasies, and with how much they clashed with the society around me."

"I understand."

"You do?"

"Yes, I had a boyfriend back when I was your age and an undergraduate in college, a white man, who used me like a cheap, black whore, and not only did I allow it to happen, I loved it," I admitted.

"You did?"

"Yeah, I mean even though I've been fighting off Amber tooth and nail during this past day, it's rekindled a past that's been simmering in my subconscious and my most intense fantasies ever since I met her last summer," I revealed.

"She does have that power over our people."

"So I'm conflicted too," I said. "In the heat of the moment, I get drawn in and become this submissive woman willing to obey her, yet once I've calmed down, I feel a flood of guilt."

"I used to feel guilty as well."

"But not anymore?"

"No," she said. "I've learned to accept that this is who I am. Being black doesn't mean I can't be proud of my race, but also follow my desire to submit to white women. And yes, I know this is self-contradictory, but I'm proud to be black, and I'll still fight the Black Lives Matters fight, and fight for justice for all races, yet I also know how much I need to submit to white women. It's a complex ying-yang thing, but after struggling with it for a couple of weeks, I came to accept this is who I am."

"I'm still searching for who I am," I said, thinking how mature she was for her age, and how much like me she was.

"Well, if you stick around here, you'll definitely find that wanton woman; and Amber will introduce you to her," Keisha said with a slight laugh.

"I don't know," I said. "Tonight I'm going to stay in my room, and just reflect and try to come to grips with who I am, and with who I want to be."

"Fair enough," Keisha nodded.

"I love you, Keisha," I said, pulling her into a close embrace.

"I love you too, Mama," Keisha said. After a few seconds, she added playfully, "I also love your tasty pussy."

"Keisha!" I gasped.

"Just saying," she said, looking into my eyes. "Anytime you want your pussy pleasured, just ask. No matter what my relationship is with Amber or with anyone else in my future, I'll always be my Mama's pet."

"I don't know what to say to that," I said, the idea just so taboo and so wrong, yet it had my pussy tingling again.

"You don't have to say anything at all," she said. "Just know it's the truth, and I'll always be a willing option for you."

"Okay," I said, a part of me thinking I should just pull the sheets back, spread my legs, which were still in those white nylons... I'd considered taking them off a dozen times, and yet there they were... still on my legs... and ask my daughter to get me off, like she'd already done twice on the kitchen table... both orgasms different, and yet both of them more intense and body-quaking than any others I'd ever had. "I have to admit I've never had such intense orgasms in my entire life. You're the best!"

"Yes, I'm very good at eating pussy," Keisha said matter-of-factly, and with some obvious pride.

"Yes, you're amazing," I added, the temptation growing to invite her between my legs again.

There was a pause, perhaps Keisha was waiting for me to make that invitation, and fuck was it tempting, just like it was also tempting to go for a taste of my daughter's forbidden fruit, but I resisted... if only for now... because first I needed time to think... time to reflect... time to process... time to decide... because whatever I did tomorrow would forever define the path forward I'd be taking.

"Well, good night, Mama," Keisha said, standing up.

"Good night, honey-bunch," I said, resisting the temptation she couldn't help being, even while my body continued to burn.

Keisha left, and I felt my hand going to my pussy, knowing I needed to rub one out before I'd be able to focus on solving the predicament I was in.

I closed my eyes, replayed the wild after dinner sex, the incest, tasting Amber, being used as a freeuse slut, and how intensely I'd come twice. My guilt notwithstanding, it had felt so good just to give in and obey, to be used, to behave like the me I once was... the me I'd fantasized almost non-stop about resurrecting ever since last summer.

A quick orgasm later... with nowhere near the intensity of the two my daughter had given me, I lay in bed and wondered whether Amber was right. Maybe it wasn't Jeremy's fault he got fucked by a white guy, just like it wasn't my fault I was obsessed with white pussy. But that was only as effective as telling someone 'don't be sad' when they obviously are; it ain't gonna happen.

Jeremy had left a dozen texts and a couple of voicemails on my cellphone, and I'd totally ignored them because I felt unable to cope.

I finally read them. He apologized over and over, and begged for the chance to explain himself. The two voicemails were in a similar vein, and he sounded devastated and guilt-ridden.

So I finally called him.

He answered immediately. "Liberty, thank God! I was so worried!"

"Hi," I said, feeling unclear about what I wanted to say or hear.

"Are you okay? Where are you?"

"I'm okay. I'm at Keisha's."

"I thought you might be there."

"Yeah," I said, not sure whether this call was even a good idea.

There was a pause... a very excruciating few seconds passed... before he blurted out, "I'm so sorry!"

"You said that in your texts and voicemails," I pointed out.

"I know, I know," he said. "It's just there was no way I wanted you to find out that way."

"Find out what exactly?"

"Jesus, I don't even know where to begin!"

"Perhaps at the beginning," I suggested. I realized that so far in this conversation, all the emotions in this conversation were one-sided. He was desperate to be forgiven, while I was giving him no indication... pro or con... whether that was possible. I decided I was just fine with that for now.

"Fine, I'll just say it. But before I do, I want to stress how much I love you, and what I did has nothing to do with you at all."

"Understood. Go on," I said, giving him the opportunity to share his side, to explain, but still returning him no emotion or any clue about my own feelings.

"This is so hard to say," he said, after another few-second pause.

"Just say it," I said. "I saw you getting ass fucked by a white guy who looked half your age. Maybe start with that."

"I've always been a bottom for white men," he blurted out.

"Always?"

"Ever since college." Jeremy was about my age, so that would be twenty years or so.

"How did it start?" I asked, Jeremy having been a football star in college, even a receiver with NFL potential, before he blew out his knee in his junior year.

"Please don't make me tell you," he begged. "It's too humiliating."

"Tell me," I said flatly.

"Okay." Followed by a long pause. And then, "There was some hazing when I was a freshman, that included my sucking off half of the seniors on the football team," he began.

"I see."

"After that, I was pretty much the dick sucker and eventual bottom bitch, along with a couple of other freshmen, throughout the entire football season," he continued.

"Did you like it?"

"At first I resented it. I felt they were taking away my manhood. Yet as time went on, I began craving it."

"Craving what?"

"I craved dick," he said, clearly ashamed, judging by his tone of voice.

"I see."

"I know, I know," he said. "All through college I was a bottom for quite a few guys, when all that time I was dating a cheerleader who had no idea of my ongoing indiscretions, but I just couldn't give it up."

"Was all of it white dick?" I finally asked the question I was the most curious about.

"Yes."

"Why?"

"I've never completely understood why," he said. "I guess it's just that although I'm a strong man, a dominant one in many ways, I just have this weakness for white dick."

"Do they call you nigger?" I asked bluntly.

"Some do," he admitted.

"And you like hearing that, don't you?" I asked, noticing some crazy parallels between him and me.

"Yes," he replied, almost too quietly to hear. He was cringingly ashamed, and yet he was being totally honest with me.

"Why?" I asked, hoping his answer might help me to understand my parallel weaknesses.

"I don't know."

"Come on, dig deeper," I coaxed, needing some insight, "you must have some idea."

"Part of it's I simply like race play, I guess," he said. After another pause of several long seconds, "I can't explain why, but when a white dick is offered to me, I can't resist it, no matter how hard I try."

"And black dick?"

"Has no impact on me."

"Strange."

"I know. I just have a thing for white dick."

"And for race play," I added.

"Yes."

"And have you been sucking dick and getting fucked while you've been seeing me?"

"A little."

"A little?"

"Well, there's this white guy at work, and I've been his bottom for years," he said "He threatened to out me when I said I was done with being his bottom. So he's the only one I was still with."

"But that guy I caught you with looked too young to have worked for your firm for years," I pointed out.

"Yes, that was Derek."

"Am I supposed to know who Derek is?"

"No, no, I'm sorry," he said. "Derek is one of my college buddies' sons, and now he's in college. He got a part-time intern job at my firm because of a request from his dad, and then after a month he walked into my office, pulled down his pants, and shoved his dick in my mouth when I opened it to object."

"Jesus!" I said, out of shock, and also at the impressive brazenness of this Derek guy.

"I know, I should have stopped it before it started, but...." he began, but paused again.

"But what?"

"I couldn't."

"Why not?"

"He was just...."

"He was just what?"

"Fuck, this is so hard to say," he sighed.

"We're way past keeping any secrets," I said, ignoring the wild irony of that statement. I hadn't shared any of my secrets with him, and they were at least as problematic as his!

"He was just so big and dominant."

"I did notice he was very well-endowed."

"Yeah. I can't believe you had to see that."

"It was quite shocking to witness. And a complete surprise."

"Again, I'm truly sorry."

"Is there anything else you need to tell me?"

"No, not unless you want lots of details, and I don't think you do."

"No, that's certainly not necessary. And now that you've been so forthcoming with me about your darkest secret, I guess you deserve some feedback."

"Yes please."

"Okay, here goes, but I'm so confused right now about various things that it won't be much. At first I thought it was about me. That I wasn't doing enough for you as your woman."

"No, no, no, Liberty," he blurted out urgently. "You're not to blame at all! This is all my fault! You did nothing wrong at all! You, Liberty, have been amazing!"

"Thanks," I said. "And I'm afraid that's all I have to say until I can figure some things out."

"So... so now what?" he asked, sounding so vulnerable.

"I don't know," I said. "I need some time."

"I understand," he said. After another pause, "I love you, Liberty. And I'll quit cold turkey for you."

"Really? Can you actually do that?"

"I can," he said, then added, "I think."

Just like with me, his struggle for self-control continued.

"Look, Jeremy, I don't know what the future holds for either of us, but I'm going to stay here for a few days and just process... some things. It isn't just about you and what I saw. I cried my eyes out after I saw... what I saw... but I'm over that, especially now that I understand what you've been going through. However, I too have some issues about myself, and about what I want and need."

"I want to be with you for whatever you need," he offered.

"Thank you, Jeremy," I said. "And thank you for your honesty."

"You don't hate me?"

"No," I said. "I believe I even understand you a little better now. And myself, too."

"You do?"

"Yes."

"You're not disgusted by me?"

"I don't know what I actually feel anymore," I said... which was likely the truest thing I could say at that moment.

"I love you, Liberty," he said.

"I know, I said, unable to return the sentiment. "I'll contact you again in a few days. And until then, please just leave me alone so I can percolate some things."

"Okay," he said.

"Bye," I said.

"Bye, Liberty," he replied.

I hung up, and I didn't know what I thought anymore.

First, Amber was right about Jeremy's weakness... it was just like mine.

Second, although I loved Jeremy, I didn't know if I respected his weakness... even though his and mine were very similar.

Third, I didn't know what to do next.

Our conversation had clarified some things, clouded some others, and I was still floundering in a situation I felt I had no control over.

Yes, I could leave right now. Leave... go back home... maybe reconcile with Jeremy, maybe not... and chalk up all of this past twenty-four hours as a brief blip in my life.

Or I could stay here and continue to try and resist the temptations I knew laid ahead.

Or I could explore my sexuality fully by just giving in to Amber. No doubt she'd 'punish' me by putting me through lots of wild and crazy shit just like she'd done to Keisha. And then I'd come out the other side as her fully trained nigger slut pet. And I wouldn't have very many more decisions to worry about ever again.

Or... or... or....

Fuck!

I was a complete mess.

Part of me was like: Okay, I don't really hate men... Jeremy didn't really betray me, just like my secret fantasies about being a lesbian submissive to a white 18-year-old hadn't been me betraying him. It was both of us living out our true sexual carnal desires (although my living out had been all fantasy at the time), and accommodating our true submissive kinky natures.

Another part of me was like: Okay, maybe we could join forces and find some white couples who were willing to use us both as their nigger submissives.

Part of me was like: Okay, I just want to explore my lesbian side. See what happens.

Part of me was like: Okay, I want to explore my true submissive side with both genders. To be a pussy licker for any old white women, and to be a dick sucking, white dick taking slut for any old white men. Again, see what happens.

Part of me was like: Okay, I've already committed incest knowingly, so I might as well just call Keisha back into my room and indulge in my first lesbian 69 right away.

Part of me was like: Okay, enough. You're an adult. You're a feminist. You're a mother. So fucking man up (but in a feminine way).

To say I was being torn apart inside was an understatement.

Consider the following basic concepts:

Right.

Wrong.

Good.

Bad.

They're all subjective terms. What do they mean? Well... it all depends on who you ask.

Having to pee, I got out of bed, headed out, and went to the bathroom.

I wasn't in there for a minute, before the door opened and Amber walked in... the door didn't have even a courtesy lock... never had. She walked up to me, lifted her skirt, grabbed my head, and shoved my face in her pussy.

Like the last time, my lust and instinct took me over, and even while a stream of piss was filling the toilet, I began licking.

Amber didn't say a word this time.

Neither did I. I licked her for not even a minute before she let go of my head, turned around, and left.

What the fuck?

Why did I just mindlessly lick her?

Why did she keep giving me these teasing samplings and then just leave?

Why did licking her make me so horny?

Why couldn't I resist?

Fuck!

This freeuse thing was playing havoc with my head.

I went to the kitchen to get a glass of wine, and saw Amber and Keisha sitting on the couch watching a movie, her arm wrapped around Keisha in a touching way, as they watched Sweet Home Alabama.