Upwardly Mobile
-- by lightswitch © December 2007

[M/F, reluctant/forced, rape (woman forcibly takes man),
interracial, black female, white male]

===========
Synopsis: A businessman is raped, dominated, and ultimately
“owned” by his “upwardly mobile” secretary.
===========

John Peterson gritted his teeth as he read the e-mail: Another
screw-up in Accounting, resulting in yet *another* misdirected
invoice.

And again, *he* would be expected to straighten it all out.

John was the Regional Director for Covalent Chemicals, Inc.  He
was regarded as a bit of a wunderkind by the Corporate Office and
had been plucked out of first-line management obscurity about
nine months ago, when the aged drunk who had been his predecessor
finally retired.

The door to his office opened, offering momentary distraction
from the tedium of his To-Do list.

His secretary, Laquiesha, entered, carrying several manila
folders.

Laquiesha Jefferson was a stunningly attractive black woman,
probably around half his age.  He tried not to stare as the
lithe, shapely woman glided across the room to place the folders
on his desk.  She smiled, showing a broad expanse of even,
blindingly white teeth.

John gave a weak smile back, trying not to groan aloud.

“God, she’s attractive,” he thought to himself, covertly eyeing
her shapely backside as she bent to retrieve a pencil.  Her
simple, skirt and blouse clung to her body in all the right
places.

Laquiesha leaned over his desk, opening a folder and providing a
breath-taking glimpse of her full, dark cleavage, and the
promising shadows of dark delights, further down.

“Here are the figures you requested, showing gross margin
projections,” she said, lowering her head close to his as she
leaned over and pointed to the top spreadsheet. Her musky scent
tickled his nose and he shook himself to refocus his attention.

Laquiesha paused and looked up, gazing into his eyes from about
six inches away. Her lips parted and she gave him a small, slow
smile. He could feel her breath … hot and moist on his face.

With an effort, he pulled his attention back to the spreadsheets.


“Thank you, Ms Jefferson,” he stammered.

“Laquiesha,” she smiled, straightening slowly. “I told you: Call
me Laquiesha.”  She gave him an impish grin.

“Rumor has it that you are a serious contender for the VP slot
that is opening up,” she said. “Don Jackson is older and has
seniority, but your track record leaves his in the dust.”

John smiled, nodding his appreciation. “Thanks, Laquiesha,” he
said. “I doubt I’ll get the position this time around – Corporate
will probably consider me ‘too new.’  Still, it is fantastic to
even be considered and this should position me well for future
slots, if I do get passed by on this one.”

The beautiful black woman regarded him, tilting her head and
still smiling broadly.

“You know,” she murmured. “I think it’s time.”

John was still basking in the moment and not fully paying
attention.  Time? What did she mean? That it was about time the
company recognized his contributions? That it was about time for
the company to promote ‘new blood?’

He opened his eyes to see Laquiesha unbuttoning her blouse.

John had been leaning back in his chair, and he was almost
unseated as he jerked back into an upright position.

“Am I hallucinating?” he wondered. “This can’t be happening!”

But it was.

His gorgeous black secretary, standing in his office wearing only
her navy skirt and white bra, was neatly folding her blouse and
setting it on his desk.

Her full, dark, round breasts jutted out proudly as she reached
back for the brassiere clasp. John swallowed hard, unable to
believe his eyes.

The bra fell away, revealing a spectacular set of boobs.  They
were probably about average size, but hanging there in front of
him, as they were, they filled his entire field of vision.

Full, round … her soft, ebony breasts swelled with each slow,
deep breath she took. Her dark aureoles poked forward, gracing
each silky, brown mound.

A flick of her hand and her skirt fell away, revealing the gentle
swell of her hips and a tiny white thong.

One elegant, dark finger hooked the waistband and, with a
graceful pull, the panties gently drifted downwards, to fall
around her ankles.

John gasped as her dark-furred snatch came into view.

“What is going on?!?” he wondered, too stupefied to move. “This
can’t be happening … my secretary … this stunning black woman …
can’t be standing here, nude! She can’t have just stripped, right
here in my office!”

Still smiling, Laquiesha straddled the dumbfounded white man and
pressed her full, thick lips down in a deep, sensual kiss.

The weight of this beautiful nude woman in his lap … the warm,
wet kiss he was quickly becoming lost in … all of this provoked
an immediate response, which she felt jabbing her through his
suddenly tightened slacks.

She broke the kiss briefly to look into his eyes and smile.

“You *do* find me attractive!” she said, teasingly.

John was paralyzed, torn between a near-overwhelming desire and
the alarmed clamoring of his business senses.

In a very tight contest, his business senses won out.  Images of
the consequences of such a coupling pulled at the edges of his
mind. The uncomfortable aftermath of a one-night stand with a
subordinate. Sexual harassment vulnerabilities. Office liaison
exposures. His current position. His career path.

Tantalizing as it might be, he just couldn’t let it proceed.

“Laquiesha,” he gasped, gently pushing her from his lap, “we … we
can’t do this.”

The beautiful young black woman pouted. “You don’t find me
attractive?” she sulked.  She cupped her full, dark breasts in
her hands. “You don’t find these tempting?” she whispered.

John nearly groaned with desire, his balls aching with lust.

But he had to stay strong. Had to put his foot down. This was too
dangerous to go through with.

“You’re absolutely breath-taking,” he admitted. “But I’m the
Director, here. It wouldn’t be right …”  He tried to stand, but
the beautiful black woman pushed him firmly back into his chair.

“I was hoping we could do this the fun way,” she sighed, grabbing
his collar in both hands and pulling hard.  His buttons
machine-gunned off his shirt and flew across the room. “I was
hoping you’d just give in and we could just have some mutual
fun.”  She gently loosened the stunned businessman’s tie.

“But it looks as if we’ll just have to do it the hard way.” she
sighed. She grabbed his belt buckle and twisted it loose, then
grabbed the top of his slacks, before he could gather his wits.

“Laquiesha!” he exclaimed, trying to grab her hands as she boldly
continued to strip him. The black woman was stronger than she
looked and was obviously determined.

Grabbing him by his tie, the aggressive secretary back-handed him
hard, across his face. John’s head rocked to the side, only to be
met with a stinging slap from the other direction, her hold on
his tie providing additional leverage.

Momentarily stunned from the blows, but mostly from surprise, he
was unable to prevent her from pulling his slacks and shorts down
around his ankles.

She smoothly slid one of her legs up and quickly straddled him,
pinning him to the chair, under her weight and trapping his arms
with her smooth, dark, muscular legs.

“You know what they say, Mr Peterson,” Laquiesha purred. “When
rape is inevitable, you may as well lay back and enjoy it!” 
Slowly she began rubbing herself on the pinned white man, who was
unable to keep himself from physically responding.

“Rape?” he wondered, dazed by all that was happening. “Why is she
blathering about rape? Is that’s what’s happening?!?  Is she
trying to … rape me?!?” His mind rebelled at the thought and his
pride re-asserted itself.  Sex was one thing, but … to be
dominated by a woman …! That was unacceptable.

He twisted and turned, trying to throw the beautiful black woman
off, but couldn’t gain the leverage.

“You like that, Mr Peterson?” Laquiesha murmured, rubbing her
slick, moist slit along the length of his rigid, exposed shaft as
she sat in his lap, facing him. “You like the idea of me raping
you?”

John struggled under his gorgeous black assailant, trying to
resist the delicious feel of her sex, sliding wetly up and down
his entrapped penis.

“Yeah,” the lusty black woman murmured, gently rocking back and
forth over her pinned prey. “You do like that! You like having me
in control!”  She pulled him into a tight embrace, sliding her
probing tongue deeply into his mouth.

“You’re mine, baby!” she whispered, tilting her pelvis and
sliding his captive cock deep inside her.

John’s mind reeled. It felt so incredibly good, getting forcibly
fucked by this gorgeous black woman!  But … the fact remained,
*he* was the one getting *fucked*!  *She* was the one doing the
*fucking*! She was in charge … in control. *She* was the one
using *him*! His pride couldn’t allow him to accept such a
situation.

It wasn’t about sex or business any more.

It was about dominance.

He struggled to escape, or to at least regain some degree of
control.

But the beautiful black woman continued to dominate, rocking back
and forth on his lap, pleasuring herself on his entrapped cock.
She caught his head in both hands and imprisoned it, pushing her
tongue deeply down his throat … penetrating him orally even as
she engulfed him down below.  He strained to gain control of the
pace … the depth of thrusting … the pressure of the deep kiss …
all to no avail.

Her dark body glistened with a sheen of sweat as she continued to
fuck the white man she had pinned in the chair.  She began
increasing her tempo, thrusting herself harder on him as her
arousal grew.  John thrashed and struggled, unwilling to be used
as anyone’s fuck-toy.

But it was never his decision.

She controlled the pace. She controlled the pressure.  Slamming
her pelvis savagely down on his, exploring his mouth and throat
with her tongue, the beautiful black secretary continued raping
him, as she held him down in the chair.

She broke her kiss, a long string of drool still connecting his
gasping mouth to her thick, parted lips.  She continued to
furiously thrust against him, lost in her mounting pleasure.

“Oh yeah!” she panted. “Oh yeah! Oh yeah! Oh yeah!”  She regarded
him with half-closed eyes as she ran her tongue across her thick
upper lip. “I love it when you struggle, John!”

With a harsh downward thrust, she completely engulfed his
overworked cock in her spasming pussy and she climaxed.  Grabbing
a fistful of his hair, she roughly forced his head down between
her heaving, sweaty breasts as she continued to ride him.

“THAT’S what I want!” she shouted. “Give it to me, white boy! 
Give me what I want!”  Her pulsating cunt clamped hard around his
cock and squeezed hard enough to make him cry out.

Her quivering, damp, brown breasts engulfed his pale face,
shutting out all light, air, and sound.  She pushed herself hard
against his entrapped face, smothering him until he saw spots
dance before his eyes.  His tortured cock was gripped and
mercilessly squeezed by her insatiable snatch.

Finally, she finished her orgasm and leaned back, releasing his
head from its fleshy prison. Although on the verge of passing
out, the rush of oxygen to his lungs and the cool air on his face
slowly brought him around.

Gasping weakly, ignoring the unsatisfied ache in his balls, he
realized with a dull sense of shame that he had just been raped.
All of his struggles had been futile – she had had her way with
him and used him for her own sexual satisfaction.

He’d never felt so … used.

“Oh, that was nice, baby!” Laquiesha purred, kissing him
dominantly. “Now it’s your turn to cum for me.”

On one hand, he found he had been totally unable to maximize his
pleasure while she had been in control and had resented her
ability to use him to achieve her own climax – he ached for his
own release. On the other hand, he sure as hell wasn’t about to
climax on demand for this dominating bitch!

“Cum for me,” Laquiesha purred, rocking back and forth on his
still-erect cock. “Cum for me, baby! Show me how complete my
mastery over you is!”

John’s face burned with shame at this taunting and at the
pleasure he unwillingly felt. He renewed his struggles to free
himself.

Unfortunately, between his writhing and the dark beauty’s
writhing, he quickly realized he was on the edge of being forced
into an orgasm.

“No!” he gasped, trying to go still and relax. “No! You can’t do
this! You can’t … can’t make … make me …”

He never finished the sentence, as he was gripped by the
overwhelming throes of his orgasm.

“That’s it, white boy,” she sneered in triumph. “Cum for me! Cum
like your mistress commands!”

She expertly rode his body as he bucked under her, a white
stallion being broken by his dark mistress.  He spurted load
after load into her insatiable cunt, which continued to milk him
for even more.

His climax was so intense that he almost lost consciousness.

He wasn’t aware of when it finally passed, only that it had. 
Laquiesha remained sitting in his lap, his abused cock still
entrapped by her greedy cunt.  She kissed him deeply … dominantly
… possessively.

“Why?” he croaked weakly, finally gathering his wits enough to
speak. “Why did you do this, Laquiesha?”  He felt weak, ravaged,
and violated; but tried not to let his eyes tear up as he spoke.

The beautiful black woman regarded him tenderly.

“Why?” she murmured, somewhat smugly. “Why, you ask? I’ll tell
you why, Mr Peterson. It’s because you were born into a life of
privilege. You were born into a life where you had the money,
networks, and social acceptance to get what you want out of
life.”

“One reason you were able to achieve all of this,” she said,
dominantly kissing him and sliding her tongue into his unwilling
mouth, “is because white men are used to getting what *they* want
… to being in control. I wanted that to be turned around, at
least once.”

She began softly, almost tenderly kissing his face. “The second
reason is that this is really the easiest, fastest, best way for
me to improve my life.”  She caressed his cheek and he blushed as
he felt his semi-flaccid penis stir, inside her.

“Look at me,” she said. He kept his eyes averted, in shame.

She grabbed his chin and forced his head up to face her.

“I said look at me!” she demanded.  He regarded the beautiful,
nude, black woman who remained straddling his lap.

“I’m a black woman, born into a poor family, she said. “I’m
smart. I’m attractive. I’m competent. But no matter how smart I
am … no matter how ambitious … no matter what I do, I’m always
going to be a woman of modest means, because of where I started
and the institutional restraints I live under in this society.”

She smiled at him, lovingly. “Unless …” she whispered. He looked
at her, uncomprehendingly.

“Unless I marry a well-to-do white man,” she murmured, kissing
him softly. “Unless I get a man who has tapped into his privilege
and can bring me up past the disadvantages that keep me from
enjoying a better life.”

John looked at her, still not understanding. “Marry …?” he
stammered, in confusion.

Laquiesha nodded, smiling. “Marry,” she said. “And not just
marry, but control. Totally. Completely. I’m not used to being in
an inferior position. I much prefer being the one on top … in
everything.”

John tried to clear his befuddlement.

“I’m not going to marry you!” he objected, feeling foolish
arguing with a naked woman sitting on his lap, who still had his
cock entrapped in her viselike snatch.

“Sure you will,” she said, kissing him tenderly. “If you don’t,
I’m going to scream ‘Rape!’”

John tensed, alarmed.

“Rape?!?” he said, indignantly. “I didn’t rape *you*!  You raped
*me*!”  John felt burning humiliation at the admission and looked
away.

Laquiesha laughed and nodded.

“So I did,” she agreed. “And I look forward to doing it again.”

“And again.”

“And again!” As if to prove her point, she trapped his head and
fucked his mouth with her tongue for several minutes.

“But tell me,” she continued, finally breaking her oral assault,
“do you think anyone will believe you?  That you … a grown man …
got raped by a woman?”

John felt the strength drain out of his body.

“They … they wouldn’t,” he realized. “They’d never believe that.”
No one would believe that a woman could or would rape a man. All
common sense would point in the other direction. And even if
someone *did* believe him … what would that mean? That he had
been weak enough to be overcome and … used … in the most
primitive and fundamental way … by a *woman*?!?

“What would that mean for my career path?!?” he thought, already
knowing the answer. “What would it mean for maintaining my
current position?”

He’d be seen as weak … ineffectual. Politically, he’d be done
for.

He blinked back tears as the beautiful black woman cupped his
chin and raised his head to look deeply into his eyes.

“You’re beginning to see the situation, aren’t you?” the
beautiful dominatrix whispered.

“To the world,” Laquiesha told him, “I’ll be Mrs. Peterson … an
exotic, but loving and attentive wife.”  She leaned down and
kissed his lips.

“But when we’re alone, *you* will belong to *me*!” she said,
clamping her pussy on his helpless member. “I’ll fuck you when
and how I want, and you will do whatever I say.”

He felt a tear roll down his face.

He was beaten. He had no options, other than surrender.  He
chafed at the idea of spending his life subjugated to anyone, but
…

He realized his cock was again stiff and fully erect, from
listening to Laquiesha’s talk of future domination.

He cursed his body for its weakness as his new owner slowly began
to fuck him, again.
