Latessa's New Position
by Neal


Chapter 8 - Tom's Lesson


"So just what is going on up there that has you so tired, baby?" asked
Tom as he drove Latessa to the Andrews place the next morning.

"I already told you, Tommy," replied his wife.  "I don't want to talk
about it anymore."

"Well, I don't believe it," he tried a different tack trying to get
her to go into detail.  He wanted to appear to be a proper husband,
angered by his wife's abuse.  Secretly, he knew his interests were
purely prurient.  His wife's humiliations aroused him.

"He uses me, Tommy," she looked at him.  "He makes me do things.
Shameful things.  Things I can't talk to you about.  So does his
wife."  She couldn't bear to even mention her humiliation at the hands
of his son, Bobby.

"I think you just tryin' to make me feel guilty for makin' you take
this job," he suggested.

"This isn't about you, Tommy," she replied with growing exasperation.
"Aren't you listening?"

They arrived at the Andrews place.  Latessa got out of the car and
headed into the house.


 * * *


The day progressed uneventfully for Latessa.  She had just finished
the lunch dishes when the house phone rang in the kitchen.  Bertha
picked it up, having just arrived.

"Yes, Massa," she said into the phone.  "Right away, suh."

The big black girl turned to Latessa.  "Massa Jack want you in his
study," she said.

Latessa immediately proceeded to the study, encountering Cindy in her
favorite place, lounging on the couch in the luxurious living room,
basking in the daylight streaming in through the big windows.

"Well, if it isn't the new maid!" she said, leering at the black maid.
"I didn't recognize you with your clothes on!  Time to get that
coochie of yours used?  Or maybe your black ass?  Knowing, my husband,
he'll probably use your face and just stick his cock in your mouth.
He usually doesn't like to use a nigger the same way twice in a row."

Latessa felt a hot flash of shame go through her body at her mocking
tone.  She couldn't look at the white woman and just kept going to the
study and knocked on the door.

"Take off you clothes, Tessa," the white man told her after he'd
called her in and she'd closed the door.

She quickly complied and displayed herself for him in front of his
desk.  She hoped he'd call her around to stand beside him and stroke
her pussy, which was already wet with anticipation.

Instead he got up and came around to the front to stand beside her.
He gently ran his hand up and down her back and across her ass,
pausing to give each black cheek a squeeze.  She continued to look
straight ahead, her hands clasped on top of her head.  He watched her
chest heave as she breathed deeply in response to his touch.

Jack brought his other hand up and began to softly touch her breasts,
cupping each in turn, and watching her chest rise and fall, her
breathing quickening.  Moving down across her belly he started to run
his fingertips over her smooth pussy.

"Ah..." he sighed, "nice and wet.  Just the way a nigger girl should
be.  I wish I had time to use that coochie of yours properly."  He
then stopped his ministrations and his enjoyment of her reactions to
them.

Jack sat in one of the leather bound chairs and patted his lap.  "On
your knees for me, girl," he said.  "Time for you to suck your
master's cock."

She turned and kneeled between his legs and took his hard white cock
between her thick black lips.


 * * *


Tom arrived early to pick Latessa up.  Bertha answered the kitchen
door in response to his knock.

"Where's my wife?" he asked the big black girl.

"She busy now," was her reply.  "You best come back when it be time
fo' her to go."

"What's all this?" asked Cindy, having just entered the kitchen and
was walking towards him.

"I'm here for Latessa," said Tom.  He felt a rush of excitement at the
white woman's sudden appearance but fought to suppress it.  "I need
her to come home with me now."

"Well I'm afraid that's quite impossible," the diminutive blonde told
him, smiling.  "It seems she's quite occupied right now."

"Look, Mrs. Andrews," he explained, "we've got a little personal thing
goin' on.  I've got to see her now."

"All right," she acquiesced with a smile, "come in then."  The young
white woman led him through the house to the study door.

"Now you listen to me, boy," she warned him in a loud whisper.  "If
you value your wife's income here, you best be still.  You
understand?"

"What?" said Tom, confused.  Boy? he thought.  What was going on here?
Again the pang of excitement.  Again the resulting hot flash of shame.

Cindy leaned forward and pushed the door open a quarter of the way.

"See for yourself," she whispered.  "Shhh."

She barely suppressed a smirk and watched his face intently as he
moved to one side to see in the door.  He was not prepared for the
scene that greeted his eyes.

His boss, Mr. Andrews was seated in a leather upholstered chair.  His
eyes were closed and his head was resting against the chair back.  His
pants were down around his ankles.  But what struck him like a punch
in the stomach was the sight of his own wife, completely naked,
kneeling between the his legs, bobbing her head up and down on his
cock.  In the silence he could hear the slurping noises she made as
she sucked the white man's dick.  He could see her full black breasts
sway with the rhythm of her head.

He stood open mouthed, taking it all in.  He could feel his heart
pounding in his chest, his face was hot, and his palms sweaty.

Cindy leaned in front of him and quietly pulled the door shut.

"Come with me, boy," she said.  "Now."

As if in a trance he followed the diminutive blonde away from the
study where his wife kneeled with his boss's cock in her mouth.  Once
they'd reached the flagstone covered entry way near the kitchen she
suddenly turned on him.

"So, what do think of that?" she said in a low voice.  "It seems your
wife likes to suck white dick.  What do you know about that?  Bet she
doesn't suck your cock like that.  Does she, nigger?"

Tom was still in shock and couldn't think of what to say.

"Well, well, well," Cindy said with mock uprise.  She looked at Tom's
crotch and could see his dick was hard.  "I do believe you're making a
little tent in your pants."

"Now this is interesting," she mused.  "I thought you'd be all crazy
seeing your woman with a white man's cock stuck into her face.  But
no!  You like it!  Damn, boy, you *are* a fucking nigger!  I was just
saying that to get a rise out of you.  But it seems your cocksucker
wife beat me to it."  She laughed at her joke.

"What kind of man stands for that?" she asked rhetorically.  "Well, no
man would.  But a nigger?  Maybe so."

Tom was totally humiliated at this development.  This white woman, who
barely came up to his chest had totally cut him down to size.  He
could feel his erection mocking his impotence.

"You like seeing your wife suck dick, boy?" she asked, taunting him.
"Her monkey head going up and down and up and down on his big white
cock?  Obviously you do."

She suddenly reached a hand out and grabbed his crotch and squeezed
his balls.  He gasped from the pain, but did nothing to defend
himself.

"Oh, yes," she said in the same low voice, "you're just going to take
it because you have to.  What are you going to do about it?  My
husband has you by the balls, figuratively speaking."  She squeezed
harder still, eliciting a groan from the tall black man, whose knees
buckled a little.  "And I've got you by the balls literally.  How does
it feel?"

"Ah!," he croaked in pain.

"What's wrong, boy?" she asked in her little girl voice.  "Is the mean
white lady hurting you?"

His head was swimming, his face was burning, and his balls ached under
the pressure of her grip.

"I knew it," she spoke clearly now.  "I knew it on the first day.  You
just took it then and I knew you'd take it now.  We had you by the
balls then as certainly as I have you by the balls right this moment.
Get on your knees boy."  She tugged him down, loosing her grip only
once his knees were resting on the flagstones.  "Look at me."

He looked up into the blondes face.  Her blue eyes were shining, and
small of stature though she was, she gave off an aura of pure power.
Tom was completely helpless before her.

"Put your head on the floor, boy," she commanded.  "Right now."

Defeated, he leaned forward and rested his face on the cold
flagstones.  She put a stocking covered foot on his head and rested
enough of her weight on it to let him know who was boss.

"Now, I'm going to let you up and you're going to drag your black ass
out of my house and go wait in your car like a good little nigger boy.
And when my husband is through using your slut whore of a wife I'll
send her out and you can take her away.  But in the morning you'll
bring her back knowing exactly what she'll be doing here as my
husband's nigger fuck toy.  Isn't that how it's going to be, boy?"

"Yes, ma'am," he said, having completely succumbed to her.  He felt
completely helpless.  He had no choice but to comply.  He needed his
job.  He needed his wife's job.  He was aware of the pain in his
testicles, but he was also aware of the powerful erection he felt.  He
needed to have this woman treat him like this.  He was at her mercy."

She removed her foot from his head.  "Get up.  Get out.  Do it," she
commanded.

He stood, his head down, his hard cock uncomfortable in his pants.
Cindy reached out again only this time she grabbed his cock shaft
through his pants.  The sudden pleasure of her touch shocked him as
much as the pain had moments earlier.

"Ahh...," she said.  "It's not all about pain, boy.  Think about that.
And that's a good thing for you because you'll never fuck your slut
wife again.  She belongs to us.  Like you belong to us.  Now get out
and wait until he's through with her."

Still overwhelmed at all that had happened, Tom slowly walked back
into the kitchen towards the door.  He had his hand on the doorknob
when he became aware of Bertha's presence.  He looked over at the big
black maid and she looked back at him.  The indifference he'd seen in
her eyes before had been replaced with contempt.  She said nothing as
he let himself out and walked to his car.

Why did he just stand there? he thought, angry with himself.  To see
his own wife of so many years debased that way, not to mention
himself.  And why did it leave his dick so hard?  And that white
woman.  It was as if she cast a spell over him.  He was completely
powerless to oppose her.  Physically she was half his body weight.
But that didn't matter.  She spoke the honest truth when she said she
had him by the balls.  And he knew it.

He leaned up against his car in the driveway and waited.  Waited for
the white folks' maid to finish her duties so he could drive her back
to where she'd wait until the next day when he'd deliver her again.


 * * *


Latessa could feel the beginnings of Jack's orgasm building inside
him.  She was completely oblivious to the fact that Tom had seen her
naked on her knees, busily sucking his boss's white cock.

She sucked harder and bobbed her head faster until she felt him
ejaculate in her mouth.  She sucked the white man's cock and milked
the semen from it, swallowing it respectfully.

"Ahhh...," he sighed.  "Good girl, Tessa.  You are a fine cocksucker."

"Thank you, Massa," she replied.  "I's glad yo' nigga pleases you."

"That you do, girl," he told her, "that you do.  Now get dressed and
go.  I've got a million things to attend to."

He rose, pulled up his pants, and went to sit as his desk.  As he had
done in the past, Jack simply returned to his work after he was
through with Latessa.  She dressed and left the study as he picked up
the phone and dialed.

She walked across the living room where she saw Cindy was just
settling down.  The white woman looked up at her and smiled.

"I think you'll find that husband of yours is waiting for you," she
said, her smile taking on a hint of malice before returning her
attention to her magazine.

Latessa hurried through the house to the kitchen and saw Tom was
outside waiting, leaning against the car.  Bertha looked up at her
from where she sat polishing the silverware, but said nothing.  The
big girl's expression was difficult for her to read.

Once she got out the door, Tom got into the car.  Latessa climbed in
and he pointed the car down the long driveway.

Neither spoke for a long time until Tom broke the silence.

"I saw you with him," was all he said.

"What do you mean?" she asked, feeling a sense of panic.  "What did
you see?"

"I saw you on your knees suckin' that white man's dick," he replied
evenly, keeping his eyes on the road.

"I... I'm sorry you had to see that, Tommy," she said, looking
straight ahead.  "I told you I had to do things.  Things I'm not proud
of.  It's just that when that man tells me what to do I feel like I
have no choice but to obey him.  No matter what it is he wants I can't
say no.  I can't explain it to you.  But it's true."

"I understand, baby," he replied softly.  "Believe me.  I understand."


 * * *


Tom and Latessa layed awake in the dark late that night.

"It was that woman," he said, breaking the silence.  "That woman took
me and showed me.  I saw you and that white man."

"I know, Tommy," she said softly.  "I wish I could've made you believe
me when I told you before.  But there was nothing I could do about it.
I had to do it."

"I believe it now, baby," he replied, rolling on his side to face his
wife.  "That woman, she... she made me know there wasn't anything I
could do."  He wanted to tell Latessa what had happened with Cindy.
How she had essentially emasculated him.

"What did she say to you?" she asked, turning her head to look him in
the face.

"It's not just what she said," her husband said.  "After she took me
where I could see what you were doing, she noticed me."  He rolled
back so he wouldn't have to look at Latessa.  "She could tell that
seeing you like that turned me on."

"What?" she asked, surprised.  "Seeing that white man humiliating your
own wife that way got you off?"

"I'm sorry, baby," he turned back towards her.  "I couldn't help it.
And she could tell.  And she... she used it against me.  She told me
that she owned me.  The both of them owned us.  You and me.  And I
couldn't say anything.  I couldn't do anything except take it.  And
she could tell I was still turned on even after that.  I was so
ashamed."

"I know, Tommy," she softened, "I'm mixed up, too."

He opened his arms to his wife and she snuggled up to him.  She lay
there in his arms until, his arousal growing, he began to caress her.

"What do you mean, mixed up?" he asked.

"It's the reason I couldn't tell you," she said.  "I... I... I still
don't know how to tell you how it made me feel."

"Was it that bad, baby?" replied her husband.

"The first day I was there, I accidentally saw Mr. Andrews with the
maid who answered the door for us," explained Latessa.  "She was
naked.  On the floor.  On her hands and knees.  Like a dog.  He
was... well, he was... having sex with her like that.  And she was
talking to him while he did it.  Calling herself nigger.  I couldn't
believe it, Tommy.  I never heard of anything so disgraceful."

"But I couldn't stop watching them.  It was only when I could tell he
was about to cum that I left so they wouldn't see me there.  I felt
all hot.  I thought it was from the fear of being discovered, but it
was more than that.  It actually excited me.  I even had visions of
what it would be like if it were me instead of her.  And I felt so
ashamed of myself for feeling that way.

Latessa reached down to her husband's crotch.  "You're hard, Tommy.
You liked hearing that, didn't you?"  She could feel herself growing
wet at the memory as well as her husband's reaction to it.

"I don't know what it is," he said, "but hearing that excites me.  I
don't know why you tellin' me about that white man usin' that girl
turns me on, but it does."

"I saw them again the next day," she continued.  "And the girl,
Bertha, she saw me watching them.  She didn't' say anything at the
time.  But later she did.  She said it would be me soon enough.  I
didn't believe her.  I knew I could never do that.  But the thought of
it, it made me feel hot.  And I was embarrassed by that."

"I worked hard to get where I had been before.  Do you know how hard
it was for me?  They all thought I got that management position
because I was a black woman.  I didn't.  It was in spite of it.  I
turned that department around and they all knew it.  All those white
men had to say 'yes, ma'am' and 'no ma'am' to me.  And I earned that
respect.

"And there I was, all excited about the idea of this white man using
me like some cheap nigger street whore.  It was humiliating even
though nobody else knew how I felt.  Well, except Bertha.  Somehow I
could tell that she knew.  I don't know how, but she did.  And that
humiliated me even more.

"You wanted him to do that to you?" asked Tom, his excitement growing.

"Yes, Tommy, I did," admitted Latessa.  "I knew it was shameful.  But
I did."

"The next day he made me take off my clothes for him," she couldn't
look her husband as she confessed.  "I tried to resist.  But he made
it sound so... so... I don't know, Tommy.  He made it sound like the
most natural thing in the world.  Like I should do whatever he wanted
because he was a white man and I was... uh...  a nigger."

"I'm sorry, Tommy," she said, tears forming in her eyes, "but I gave
in at that moment.  I tried to be true to you.  But I had to do what
he said.  I took off my clothes for that white man and then he touched
me.  He started touching my coochie.  And it felt so good and so right
for him to be doing that.  I'm so sorry, Tommy."

"It's ok, baby," Tom reassured his wife, "I understand.  I'm not angry
with you.  There wasn't nothin' you could do."

"He made me cum," she said, looking back into his eyes.  "He made me
cum just playing with me."  She turned her head away again.  "He made
me beg him to do it.  I had no choice.  I had to do what he wanted.
It felt wonderful.  I was so ashamed of myself.  I couldn't believe it
when I heard myself begging him."

"Then he made me thank him!" she turned back towards him.  "He
actually made me say 'thank you' for what he'd done.  Then he put his
hand in front of my face.  This so shameful, Tommy.  I don't know if I
can say this."

"Tell me, baby," he said trying to restrain the excitement he felt
hearing of his wife's degradation at the hands of his boss.  "Please
tell me."

"You're really getting excited by this, aren't you?" she asked him.
"Hearing how I was humiliated by that white man turns you on doesn't
it?"

"Yes, Tess, it does," he admitted.

"He didn't even tell me to do it," she continued the story.  "He put
his hand in front of my face.  It was all wet from my coochie.  And I
licked it off.  I don't know what came over me.  It seemed like the
most natural thing to do right then.  I licked my cum off that white
man's hand.  And he was loving it.  And so was I.  I actually felt
grateful to him for making me cum.  And I licked his hand off to show
him.  Later when I thought of it, all I could feel was shame at having
behaved that way."

"The next day Bertha told me how I was supposed to talk to him.  Like
some ignorant nigger.  It was embarrassing to have to call him Massa
and refer to myself as 'dis nigga'.  But that's what I had to do to
please him.  I don't know why, but that's all I cared about.  Pleasing
him.

"And I kept hearing what I was saying and seeing what I was doing and
I couldn't believe it was me.  I have a college degree!  The first in
my family.  I didn't just have a job, I had a profession.  And now I
was on my knees, sucking this white man's cock.  I was just a cheap
ass nigger whore.  He came in my mouth and I had to swallow it.  I
hated it.  But I loved it.  Do you understand?"

"I do, baby," offered her husband.  "I don't like sharin' my wife with
that white man, giving you to him.  But hearin' what he does with
you...  I can't help myself."

Tom felt his wife grab his cock and slowly begin to stroke it.  He
shuddered with the pleasure of her touch.  The black woman understood
the mixture of feelings he was experiencing.  She felt as if she'd
betrayed him and wanted to make it up to him somehow.  Since he liked
to hear about the sexual acts she was made to perform for the white
man, she decided she'd tell him the rest.

"The day after that, he fucked me," said Latessa, still slowly
stroking her husband's cock.  "Bertha was right there.  He took a
switch and beat her ass with it.  She cried.  I was scared he was
going to use it on me."

"He whupped that fat girl?" Tom exclaimed.  "He didn't... uh... whup
you did he?"  A picture of his wife bent over getting switched on her
bare ass by Mr. Andrews gave him another surge of excitement.

"Would you want him to, Tommy?" she asked softly.  "Would you want to
watch that white man beat my ass?"

"Yeah, baby," he said, ashamed of himself.  "I would."

"Well *he* hasn't done that yet," she said.  "He just fucked me.  Bent
me over the desk right next to Bertha.  Then he fucked me.  Actually,
it was more like he used me.  I didn't feel like a woman when he did
it.  I felt like a thing.  He was just getting himself off inside me."

"Oh!" exclaimed Tom.  The picture his wife was painting send a shudder
of stepped up arousal through his body.

"You like that?" she cooed, warming to the way her husband was
enjoying the story.  "You like hearing how that white man used your
woman?  Used me like a slut?"

"Yeah, I do," he said breathlessly.

"His wife used me, too, you know," said Latessa.

"His wife?" Tom asked.  His run in with Cindy was still fresh in his
mind.  The idea of the white woman giving his wife similar treatment
only served to excite him further.

"That white bitch," she clarified.  "I never did anything with a woman
before.  My roommate in college wanted me to, but I wouldn't.  But
that white woman.  She just made me lick her pussy.  She rubbed
herself on my face.  It was so shameful.  She's so hateful, I despise
her.  But I got excited doing it anyway."

"She'd had her gray haired aunt over for coffee," continued Latessa.
"She even let that old lady beat my ass with a hair brush!  But after
she did that, the aunt played with my coochie and it felt so good.
She made me cum.  That whole family is twisted, Tommy.  The old lady
even had her own girl!  She was naked and sat at her feet like a dog.
Girl wanted to lick my pussy and the old lady let her."

The image of his beautiful wife over the knee of the gray haired white
woman getting her booty beaten with a brush gave Tom a warm feeling in
his crotch much to his chagrin.

Latessa could sense his excitement at hearing about the spanking.
"So, I bet you wish you'd been there to see that, don't you, Tommy?"
she told him as she continued to stroke him.  "You'd like to watch
that old white lady beat your wife's ass that way?"

"Yeah, baby," Tom murmured

"Do you want to fuck me, Tommy?" she asked suddenly.  "Do you want to
fuck the pussy that white man used?"

Without answering, he rolled on top of her and entered her sopping
black pussy.

"Fuck me hard, Tommy," she said evenly.  "Use me."

Her husband obliged her and thrust into his wife with an energy he
hadn't had for years.  He was so excited already, he didn't last a
minute.

"Oh!  Ahhh..." he moaned as he came.  Latessa lay beneath him, her
arms around him, gently stroking his back.  And in her mind, it was
not her black husband on top of her.  It was her white master who had
just used her.


  
Latessa-08