The Black & White Ball
-- by lightswitch © July 2007

(FF, lesbian), (white female, wf; black female, bf), (interracial, interr,
ir), (reluctant, reluc), dom/sub, ws, fisting

=================

“It’s sick, that’s what it is!” Ashley declared, angrily brushing
her glossy auburn hair while glaring into the big restroom
mirror. “I mean, what the hell are they playing at, anyway?”

I shrugged, careful not to mar the lipstick I was applying. “Sick
or not,” I reminded her, “we need the work. We go where the
catering company sends us.”

Ashley was not mollified. “The DeLite Catering Company can kiss
my ass,” she announced, putting comical emphasis on the “De” of
DeLite. “Where do they get off, sending us to a site like this,
anyway?!? It’s harassment, that’s what it is!”

I nodded my agreement. When we were informed that we’d be working
a catering job at the DAALS’ annual Black & White Ball, we’d
assumed it was a formal affair that some ritzy social club was
hosting. I’d never heard of any “DAALS,” and truth be told, I
still didn’t know what their initials stood for, even after
completing almost a full shift.

Ashley tugged angrily at the bodice of the skimpy “French Maid”
uniform we’d all been forced to wear. “And look at this!” she
shouted, trying to pull the low-cut uniform up to cover more of
her generous bosom. “Tell me that this isn’t the final straw! How
demeaning!”

Nodding, I tried to reposition my own breasts, which seemed way
too large to be comfortably reined in by the skimpy halter. I
felt like a freak. My breasts, for all practical purposes, were
being displayed like a set of huge melons on a shelf of
underwiring. I tried to tug the too-short skirt down. “I know,” I
agreed, “this damned skirt doesn’t even fully cover my ass.  At
least there are no men, here.”

Ashley slammed her hair brush into her purse. “I swear, if even
one more of those damned lez’s tries to paw me …!”

Whatever DAALS’s charter was, its members all appeared to be
lesbians. The grand ballroom was filled with women, milling
about. Some single, some in groups, but most in pairs.  Even the
couples circling around on the dance floor … all women.

My eye had been drawn to the couples, from the moment I had 
finished setting up my catering station.

All of the women roaming by themselves were African American.

All of the women roaming in groups were African American.

But every couple … every couple consisted of one black woman and
one white woman.

It had taken me a while, but I had finally theorized that “Black
& White Ball” didn’t refer to the dress code. After all, women
were wandering around in a dazzling variety of dresses and
costumes, in all sorts of colors.

Everyone on the catering staff for this function seemed to be a
white woman, and all were sporting the degrading and revealing
maid uniforms that DeLite had forced us to wear. I decided that
whatever DAALS stood for, it must be some kind of social group
for black, or maybe interracial, lesbians.

All in all, the attendees hadn’t been too bad, so far. Most were
very nice and treated us like professionals.  Whatever lechery
they felt, they tended to direct towards the white women who were
actual attendees. These white women seemed to be completely
dominated by their black partners.

Like I said, most of the women were cool. The exception was a few
of the roving “gangs” of women. They traveled in packs and
drunkenly hit on every white woman with whom they came in
contact.  The partners of the “kept women” either interceded on
behalf of their white pet or allowed the gang to paw and grope at
the woman, while the owner enjoyed the show.

The roving gangs were especially hard on the catering staff. I
felt sure we had been intended merely as “eye candy” for the
lesbians, but some of the DAALS groups seemed to believe we were
“available.”  I had politely declined a few dozen overtures,
myself, since my shift had started. Most of the women were cool
about it.

Some weren’t.

I’d had only one “ugly” incident. About three hours ago, as I was
swapping out a tray of almost-emptied Swedish meatballs, a group
of three black women had approached me. They were obviously drunk
and the leader, whose name appeared to be Barbara, seemed
especially aggressive and horny. She’d pawed at my ass and chest
and pressed against me, making lewd remarks while trying to kiss
my neck. I’d been frightened and tried to push her away.
Fortunately, another woman, who had been roaming solo, interceded
and told the aggressive bitch to shove off.

But, all that was in the past, now. I just needed to finish
freshening up and finish out my shift, then I’d be out of this
place for good. Ashley was still steaming, so I tried to put a
positive spin on our unenviable situation. “Hey, it’s a job,
right? We finish out the night and we’re $50 richer!”

Ashley snorted. “Damned minimum-wage cheapskates! ” she said.
“Besides, that’s easy for you to say. Your shift ends in less
than half an hour.  Mine lasts another two hours, and I’m at the
table closest to the bar.” She shuddered. “Ah, fuck it. It’s not
like I have another job I can step into if I walk off this one.
Guess we gotta just soldier through it.”

“But,” she warned, “if any of those degenerates tries groping me,
again, I’ll be giving them a little S&M session right there on
the ballroom floor!” She laughed and gave a stoic wave as she
walked out the door.

I laughed so hard that my hand shook, smearing my lipstick. I had
no tissues and the dispenser was out of paper towels.  I entered
one of the stalls and unrolled a few squares from the roll there.

At that moment, I heard the voices of people entering the
restroom. I didn’t pay much attention until I recognized one of
the voices.

It was Barbara!  The aggressive lesbo who had been harassing me,
earlier!

Anxiety shot through me. I didn’t want to encounter that drunken,
horny lez in the women’s room, of all places!  Quietly, I closed
the stall door and sat on the toilet, pulling my feet up so I
wouldn’t be seen.

“Damn it, Lukka!” I heard Barbara curse. “Why’re you followin’ me
around, screwin’ up my action?!?”

Another voice answered. Strong. Steady. Mature. I recognized it
as the voice of my earlier rescuer! So, her name was Lukka, eh? 
I guess she and Barbara were friends … or at least knew each
other.

“Because you’re drunk!” I heard Lukka say. “And you’re not
thinking straight. You know that those white girls in the maid
outfits are just here to serve food!  They’re not part of DAALS.
You go hitting on them and you make us all look bad.”

I heard Barbara snort in derision. “Here to serve food … yeah,
so? You think that makes them any less open to serving up a
little something more? Get real, woman!  They’re *white girls*! 
You know what that means! Inside every white girl is a submissive
slut, waiting for a black woman to take control of.”

I heard Lukka laugh. “Just like that hot blonde caterer you were
all over, earlier, right?  Yeah, you were smooth! Slobbering all
over her neck and grabbing at those big titties.  It was obvious
she was into you.”  The sarcasm was plain and the laughter of
several other women filled the room.

Barbara lashed back.

“Shut up, bitch,” I heard her snarl. “You’re one t’ talk. You
never even *had* a white chick, from what I hear! You too damned
timid to go top one … just sitting back and waiting for one to
come up and ask real nice-like to be worked over.”

The group laughed derisively and I sensed the tables had turned.
Lukka was quiet and didn’t respond.

“Chickenshit domme,” Barbara taunted. “I’ll bet you ain’t even a
real top! I’ll bet you secretly wish you was one of them
submissive little white femmes … “ Barbara’s voice dropped and
became soft … seductive. “ I’ll bet you was wishing a real woman
would come along and show you what it’s like to …”  Her words
were cut short by the sound of a sharp slap.

“Don’t ever touch me again, without permission,” Lukka said in a
soft, dangerous voice. “And don’t *ever* try to top *me*!”

I heard Barbara give an ugly laugh. “Sure thing, baby,” she
snarled. “Tough words. Come back when you get the nerve to
actually go out and top a femme … then maybe we’ll believe you
can back them words up.”

Laughing contemptuously, the voices receded and I heard the door
close.

“What bitches,” I thought, my heart going out to poor Lukka. I
started to hop off my perch when I heard soft sobbing.

“Who am I kidding?” I heard Lukka murmur. “They’re right. Sure, I
prefer to be the dominant one in a relationship. But … that
doesn’t mean I have to treat my lover like garbage. That doesn’t
mean we can’t show each other respect … love.”

She paused. “Maybe they’re right. Maybe it *is* just me being too
weak to be worthy of being called a domme …”

Righteous indignation flared through me.

“They’re *not* right!” I told her, bursting out of the stall.
“You’re a fine woman and a good person!  Don’t even think of
changing who you are just to try to fit into their warped
standards!”

Lukka looked startled, then turned her face in embarrassment at
having been overheard in such a private reflection. I was a bit
embarrassed, myself. I never made scenes like this, before. But
this situation was different.  I’d be damned if I stood by
quietly while a good woman was derided and told she was flawed –
especially by some arrogant, aggressive bitch.

“I’m sorry, Lukka,” I said, more calmly. “I … I shouldn’t have
listened. But, I couldn’t help but overhear. And what Barb was
telling you is flat-out wrong!  She should be more like you, not
the other way around.”

I could see gratitude in the big woman’s eyes. “Bless you,
child,” she said. “But DAALS is a lot like a wolf pack – those
who show the most assertiveness get positioned most favorably. 
And I’m afraid that I’m just not as aggressive as Barbara.”

I had no idea what the politics of this DAALS organization was
like, but I was having none of this talk. “That’s just the
point,” I argued. “You *are* very assertive!  Would a
non-assertive person have intervened when their friend was
slobbering over me?  There is a difference between ‘assertive’
and ‘aggressive.’  *You* are assertive. And mature, and
intelligent, and kind.  Barb … Barb is none of those things. She
*is* aggressive, though.  A lot of people mistake aggressiveness
for assertiveness; but they are two different things.”

Lukka was watching me with interest. “You really think so?” she
asked, hopefully. “You think I’m assertive?” She paused, her
voice becoming soft … seductive. “You think I’m mature?” she
murmured. “Kind?” She looked at me longingly. With a pang of
regret, I realized where this was going. “I’m sorry,” I said, as
gently as I could, “but I’m not into women.”

The big woman’s expression drooped, but she smiled. “Ah, well,”
she shrugged, grinning, “I guess that would have been too good to
have hoped for.”

I smiled back. Lukka really was an attractive woman.  She was
about 5’10” and very fit. I suspected she worked out, because she
didn’t appear fat at all, despite a fairly solid-looking body. 
Her skin was a deep, rich chocolate color and her hair was short,
but stylish.  She had a full chest and generous hips, all very
nicely proportioned to her figure.  I figured she was in her 40s
… probably about 15 years or so older than me.

“Lukka,” I smiled, “I can honestly say that if I *were* into
women, I’d probably be smitten by you.”

My new friend gave me a grateful smile, showing an expanse of
perfect, white teeth. “You are so sweet,” she said, giving me a
platonic hug. “But the fact remains, I seem to be stuck in the
lower rungs of the Society. Barbara and her posse seem to do a
good job making sure my ‘dominance’ image is always in question.”

I pondered her situation. Surely there was something that could
be done to help her.  She had stepped up and helped me, earlier,
out of the kindness of her heart. Maybe I could find a way to
help her.  Sometimes, two heads could succeed where one was
stymied.

“What I need is a big win,” Lukka sighed, leaning against the
counter and gazing down into the sink. “Something to prove to
everyone in the society that I *am* a domme. But … that’s my
problem, not yours. I’ll find a way to deal with it.”

We stood in silence.

Then, I had an idea.

“Lukka,” I said, slowly, trying to work my thoughts out as I
talked, “What if you were able to seduce another woman, in a
fairly public place?”

My new friend considered the question. “Well, yes,” she said,
tilting her head in thought. “I guess that *might* have an
impact. But, then again …”

“What if the woman was someone that your typical DAALS member
considered very desirable? Maybe someone Barb had tried to come
onto and been rejected by? What if you were to succeed where she
had already failed?”

Lukka’s eyes were lost in thought, but she was smiling. “Mmmm,
yeah …!  Succeeding where that bitch had failed … that might have
an effect …!”

“It would have to be in a public place, where enough DAALS
members were present to witness,” I noted. Lukka nodded, rapt
with attention.

“That would be great!” she agreed, enthusiastically. “Oh MAN, but
that could cement my positioning!”  She looked at me eagerly. “Do
you know someone I could approach?” she asked.

I nodded, smiling. “Would it be a plus if it were a white girl?”
I asked.

Lukka’s eyes widened and she grinned broadly as he contemplated
this. “On yes,” she breathed. “That would certainly set me over
the top … at least way over Barbara! But who …? “

She stopped, looking at me in surprise.

“Not you!?” she asked, stunned. “But … but, I thought you said
you weren’t gay?”

I nodded. “I’m not,” I affirmed. “But I don’t mind pretending
like I am, in order to help a friend and to put that nasty bitch,
Barb, in her place!”

Lukka’s eyes teared up and she hugged me hard. “You’d do that?”
she whispered. “You’d do that for me?”  I hugged her back.

“You bet,” I told her. “Now, here’s how I was thinking we’d pull
this off …”

* * * * *

Even though my shift was over, I went back to my old station and
puttered around, pretending to work.  My replacement was already
at the table, but was clueless. She must have seen the
distinctive maid uniform and just assumed I was supposed to be
there.

Out of the corner of my eyes, I saw Lukka rejoin her group. There
was a lot of animated discussion and then they grew quiet.  I
repressed a smile. About this time, Lukka would be offering Barb
a wager: Who could be the first to seduce a seemingly
unattainable white catering staffer?

I tugged my low-cut uniform down a bit and tried to reposition my
tightly-squeezed cleavage to best effect.

The group was scanning the room. Probably looking for a suitable
mark. I extended my arms, jutting my chest out and feigning a
long, luxurious yawn.  I’ll admit: I’m rather proud of my
bustline, and even though I initially hated this skimpy little
French Maid outfit, I was now grateful that I was wearing
something that so effectively showed off my rather impressive
“charms.”

Barbara’s eyes lit on me as I was in mid-stretch.  Out of the
corner of my eye, I saw her point at me and talk excitedly to her

friends. They all nodded and the group began to wind its way
over.

Barbara approached first. She was a striking woman, probably
standing about 5’7”; not as tall or solid as Lukka, but with a
chest so large, I was certain she must have had it surgically
enlarged.  If only she wasn’t such a bitch, she’d actually have
been rather attractive.

“Hey, Sweetcheeks,” she purred, sidling up to me. “Ready to take
up where we left off earlier?”  I gave her a sidelong look,
glancing up and down, pretending to take in her body.

“Not interested,” I said, going back to pretending to arrange
plasticware in napkins.  The nearby DAALS members laughed
uproariously and jeered.

Barbara scowled. “Maybe I can *get* you interested,” she said,
grabbing me and swinging me into her arms. Her mouth came down
hard on mine and she kissed me hard. I stoically endured her kiss
without returning it.  “So, baby,” she smirked, finally releasing
me, “you interested, now?”

Slowly and deliberately, I wiped my mouth and spat. “Where’d you
learn to kiss?” I said, wrinkling my nose in disgust. “That
sucked!” My aggressor looked as if she’d been slapped. “And for
God’s sake,” I continued, “try some mouthwash!  Your mouth tastes
like cum!”

The assembled women screamed in laughter, several actually
slumping to the floor and holding their stomachs.  Humiliated,
Barbara slunk back to the jeering pack. “Fuckin’ frigid bitch!” I
heard her snarl. “Ain’t no one getting into that icebox’s
panties!”

One of the other women agreed. “She’s straight,” she
stage-whispered. ”No one here’s going to be tapping that fine,
creamy white ass.”

Most of the group continued to jeer Barbara unmercifully and the
jilted black woman fell into silence.  Lukka, to her credit, had
not joined in the mockery. I could scarcely believe it – here she
had the perfect opportunity to nail her taunting rival, and she
had shown restraint and compassion. My esteem for the muscular,
black woman grew even more.

Out of the corner of my eyes, I saw Lukka approach me.

Showtime!

“That’s a lovely display,” Lukka complimented, nodding to my
array of folded napkins.

I looked at her in feigned surprise, then smiled. “Why, thank
you!” I said, beaming. “How nice of you to say so!”

Lukka, still smiling, continued the dialog we’d rehearsed. “This
has to be a grueling job,” she commiserated. “How long have you
been on your feet, today?”

I gave her a rueful look, nodding. “Since before the Ball
started,” I complained, “We had to do set up around noon! My feet
are killing me!”

“Poor thing!” Lukka cooed, reaching out to lightly stroke my
hair. “Tell you what … you’ve been so good to all of us here,
working like that all day … let me make it up to you, a little.
Let me give you a foot rub.”

I pretended to be uncomfortable. “Oh no,” I said.  I paused. “I
mean, it sounds great and all, but … I couldn’t … not in front of
all these people.”  I blushed prettily and lowered my eyes shyly.

Lukka gave me a warm smile. “Of course not,” she reassured me.
“We have some side rooms, here.  Why don’t we meet in Room 204,
over there on the far wall, and see if we can’t give you a little
… relief.”  She gave a little emphasis to that last word, which
her friends noticed and I appeared not to.

I pretended to think her offer over. “Well, that *does* sound
nice,” I admitted. “  I looked up at her, and gave a big perky
grin. “All right!” I chirped. “I get off in 15 minutes!  I’ll see
you, then!”

I went back to arranging plasticware and Lukka rejoined her
group, which immediately surrounded her and began buzzing
congratulations.  Barbara looked miserable and kept off a short
distance.  I was pleased.

I waited about 20 minutes. That would give enough time, as Lukka
and I had planned, for her to “secretly” get her gang hidden in
the conference room, so they could witness the successful
“seduction” we would arrange.

We’d already planned it all of this out: I’d act reluctant and
eventually give in to some feigned petting and nuzzling. We’d
fake-kiss and she’d eventually “force” me to suck her big
breasts. Naturally, I wouldn’t really be doing anything of the
sort, but we’d make it look convincing. At a key point, I’d stop
and tell her that, while I wasn’t a lesbian, I found myself
incredibly attracted to her.  She’d kindly offer to “give me
whatever time I needed,” and we’d embrace passionately before
parting – leaving it obvious to everyone that Lukka had
successfully seduced the seemingly unattainable, straight, white
girl and that her journey down the path of submissive lesbianism
was now inevitable.

That should be more than enough to cement Lukka’s standing in her
Society.

Slipping into the dimly-lit conference room, I saw Lukka, already
standing next to a big, suede chair.  There was no sign of the
other women, but I was sure they were already there, hiding in
the shadows.  Lukka had turned on a small desk lamp and
strategically placed it on a table close to the chair, where it
cast a dim yellow light that barely lit the room, casting deep
shadows over every corner. It would be between us and our
observers, illuminating me as I sat in the chair, but providing a
soft glare that would seem to prevent us from seeing our
observers.

“You ready?” Lukka asked me, in a soft, sultry voice.

I nodded shyly, surprised that I actually did feel shy.  I sat in
the proffered chair and leaned back, looking mildly anxious.

Had to put on a good show, after all!

The big black woman slowly dropped to her knees and slid my shoes
off. I gave a groan of relief as she released my aching feet from
the tortuous shoes that DeLite had forced us to wear.

“That feels heavenly, already!” I murmured, truthfully, flexing
my aching, compressed toes. “I can’t believe they made us wear
shoes so tight!  And so high – all night, I felt like I was going
to topple over!”

Lukka chuckled and took my left foot in her big hand. Holding my
heel in one hand, she gently squeezed her other big hand over my
foot.

“Oh GAWD!” I moaned, not faking in the least. “Oh that is
*heavenly*!” I couldn’t believe how good Lukka’s massage of my
foot felt.  I heard an intake of breath from near the credenza
and repressed a smile.

Someone already seemed to be getting into our little show.

Lukka spent a good 15 minutes massaging each foot. I reveled in
the feeling as my sore feet responded to her gentle
ministrations. I closed my eyes and enjoyed the pleasurable
massage.

I almost didn’t notice when the big woman’s hands, as planned, 
began straying up from my feet.  With each stroke, they roamed a
little farther, up my leg.  Soon, my ankles were also enjoying
her massaging caress.

Then my calves.

“You’re so tense,” Lukka murmured, one stroking hand ranging
slightly above my knee and onto my smooth, exposed white thigh.

“Mmmmm,” I half-murmured, half-moaned. “God, that feels good,” I
whispered, seemingly half to myself.

Lukka continued to slowly massage my legs and, I had to admit, it
*did* feel great!  This woman had nothing to worry about, I
thought. If I *had* been gay, I’d be putty in her hands, by now.

I was sure our observers were eating this up.

“Why don’t you let me do your shoulders?” Lukka purred, moving up
behind me. I remained limp and languid, allowing her to gently
nudge me forward, where she began gently kneading my neck and
shoulders.  I moaned in pleasure, again not faked.  After an
entire shift on my feet, this felt absolutely delightful!  It was
great that, not only was I helping Lukka out, but I was also
getting one Class-A massage, in the bargain!  I smiled as I
imagined the effect this was having on our observers: Watching
Lukka’s strong, dark hands work their magic, kneading and
massaging my soft, vulnerable, white flesh … appearing to subtly
work to arouse me as they continued an ‘innocent’ massage.

She gently pulled me from the chair and I let her guide me to the
sofa, where she laid me out on my stomach. She straddled my butt
and continued to massage my neck and shoulders.  The sofa had
prime placement, I realized: From the corner of my eye, I could
now make out the shadowy forms of several women, crouching in the
shadows, near the credenza.  I pretended not to notice, but knew
their eyes must be riveted on us.

On me.

As we’d planned, Lukka eventually raised me to a sitting position
and reached around towards the tightly corded front of my
bustier.  I pretended to halt her arm, in a shy panic.

“There, there, baby,” Lukka purred. “If you don’t let me loosen
these straps, I can’t reach your lower back.”  I looked at her
with what I hoped was an indecisive, vulnerable expression.
“Besides,” my dark ‘seductress’ continued, “those straps have got
to be even more confining than the shoes!”

Slowly, I released my grip and let the big woman undo all of the
straps.

She deftly removed the loosened bustier and my bare boobs swung
free. Since the little maid’s outfit couldn’t accommodate any
form of bra, my ample breasts now hung, unfettered.  The dim
yellow light didn’t do much to light most of the room, but it did
serve to illuminate everything that was light-colored – including
all of my exposed, pale skin. The small light cast my entire
body in a soft, golden glow.  My boobs seemed to almost shine, in
the soft lamplight.

I heard a soft moan from the shadows and felt a flash of
satisfaction that the sight of my breasts had elicited such a
reaction. “You bitches will all be dreaming of me, tonight,” I
thought, smugly.

“Nice,” Lukka murmured, gently cupping one of my pale, bare
breasts with her fingertips. A tingle of pleasure coursed through
my breast and both nipples responded. I gasped in embarrassment
and threw myself, face-down, back onto the couch. I could feeling
my face flush in shame.

Damn! I couldn’t believe that had just happened!

Lukka chuckled, but let it go. She again straddled my butt and
began massaging my back. She had incredible technique and soon I
found I was making involuntary mewling noises of pleasure. That
hadn’t been planned, but I couldn’t help myself.  She shifted
from using two hands to using just one; I knew she was using the
other to unbutton and remove her own top, as we’d planned.

The big woman turned me over, so that I was face-up on the sofa.

“Lukka!” I gave a shocked whisper, appearing to take in her
large, exposed, dark breasts with my widening eyes.

She shushed me and stretched herself out, pinning me with her
toned, black body. Stretching my arms over my head, she used one
big hand to pin my wrists against the arm of the sofa,.  With her
other hand, she gently grabbed a handful of my blonde hair and
pulled my head to face her, making it impossible for me to look
away.

She lowered her face to within an inch of mine and looked deeply
into my eyes.

Where my pale skin reflected the dim, golden light in the room,
hers seemed to drink it in, darkening her rich, chocolate color
even further.  Her deep, brown eyes held mine and I could feel
her hot, moist breath on my face.  My heart was racing and I
couldn’t catch my breath.

God, but she was attractive!

We had planned all of these actions, but I hadn’t realized just
how powerful an effect our little play-acting would prove, in
reality.  The warm pressure of her full, ebony breasts pressing
against my big, bare, white tits was much more pleasurable than
it should have been.

Unable to look away, all I could do was stare up into her
beautiful eyes.  I felt myself getting moist … down there.

In the soft, golden light, I was struck by just how gorgeous
Lukka was.  Her heavy, half-closed eyelids giving her a sultry,
seductive look. Her full, moist, luscious lips quivered slightly
with every breath.

Her beautiful, deep-brown face hovered ever closer and I inhaled
her hot, moist breath as if it were a drug. Her lips parted …
waiting … now only a fraction of an inch from my own.  I felt hot
and breathless.  My nipples were rock-hard and aching and the
throbbing heat between my legs was becoming achingly insistent.

I could feel my own lips part, of their own accord. Our script
called for Lukka to lower her head and, shielding my face from
the observers’ view with her head, pretend to kiss me. In
reality, she’d just be bringing her lips down on my cheek.

Slowly, she lowered that full mouth towards mine. Her thick,
voluptuous lips were parted. I thought I was going to pass out.
“Kiss me!” I begged, in my mind.

How could I be getting so excited over the threat of another
woman kissing me?!?

My black “seductress” slowly lowered her face… and then pressed
her lips fully against mine.

What the … ?!?  That wasn’t supposed to happened!

I was too aroused to protest. Besides, I rationalized, we had to
put on a show. I guess Lukka had just gotten caught up in the
moment, as I had been.

My own eyes closed and I gave myself to her kiss. “Just acting,”
I told myself.

Her tongue teased at my lips and soon found entrance. She
released her twin grips on my hair and wrists to let those big,
strong hands begin roaming gently over my body, stopping only to
tenderly tweak my stiffened nipples.

I was dazed. What was happening? This wasn’t how it was supposed
to go! The seduction wasn’t supposed to be real! We weren’t
really supposed to get intimate – only pretend!

Panicked and burning with shame, I twisted my head away and
pushed her off.

I sat up, panting hard, trying to sort things out. “I’m not gay!”
I whispered out loud, more to myself than to my partner. I could
feel a hit flush of shame spreading across my face and the rest
of my body. “I … I don’t know what just happened!  How could I
have let …?”

Lukka leaned close. “Damn, girl,” she whispered in my ear, “You
are one hell of an actress! Thanks for making it look so
convincing!”

I felt cool relief wash over me. Lukka thought I’d been acting! 
Well … I *had* been acting!

Hadn’t I?

Pulling myself back to the present, I realized the act had to go
on.

I put an arm around her head before she could pull away. “Pretend
to top me,” I whispered in her ear. “Time to give your friends
the show they came for.”

It was time to kick our plan into high gear.

Lukka leaned back, assuming a confident, stern expression. “Oh, I
think you know exactly what just happened, white girl,” she said,
pretending to respond to my last, accidental outburst.

I tried to look confused. “What … what do you mean?” I stammered.
“And why are you calling me ‘white girl?’”

Lukka reached out and grabbed a fistful of hair, again.  Using
that as a lever, she pulled my face close to hers. “Oh, I think
you know, white girl,” she said in a soft, dangerous voice. “I
think you know exactly what’s going on. You put your slutty white
body out there to tease us, all the while hoping that some black
woman is going to come along and call your bluff!”

Yanking my face close to hers, so our noses touched, Lukka gazed
into my eyes. “Well, here I am, white girl. And I’m calling your
bluff. You aren’t leaving here until you’ve become my personal
property.”

I sighed. Lukka had screwed up her lines.  Now it was going to be
tougher to play-act the denouement we’d originally worked out,
where I asserted weakly that I wasn’t a lesbian but was allowed
to walk away without doing anything really overt.

The next part of our plan had called for Lukka to pretend to
“savagely kiss” me until my resistance wore down, then to make me
kiss and suckle her big breasts. After that, I’d break down and
cry and deny being a lesbian, but by then her ‘hold’ on me would
be obvious and she’d let me walk – obvious to all that the
seduced little white girl would be back at another time and that
Lukka had demonstrated her dominance and prowess.

As planned, Lukka had grabbed my head and swung my face towards
her, setting the stage for the Savage Kiss. She paused,
awkwardly, just before making contact.  She must be unsure how
far to go in faking this kiss, in light of her previous slip, I
thought.  I knew that if I acted inconsistently now, she might
realize my previous performance might not have been as fake as
I’d claimed.

I parted my lips and let my eyes slowly close, trying to adopt a
look of slow surrender. Lukka’s lips grazed mine and I could feel
my heart pounding in anticipation. Would she fake it and go for
the cheek, as we’d talked about? Or would she actually kiss me,
as she had before?

Slowly, those thick lips pressed against mine. She was actually
kissing me.

Then she pressed her lips against me even harder.

Lukka pushed me back into the sofa and continued her Savage Kiss.
My head was spinning and my pale arms involuntarily wrapped
around the black woman’s neck as I let her have her way with my
mouth.  Her tongue probed boldly between my parted lips.
Emboldened further, when I didn’t pull back, she ran her tongue
past my teeth and deep into the recesses of my mouth.  Her hands
continued to roam my body, leaving hot, tingling trails of
pleasure wherever they stroked.

It was her, not me, who finally broke our passionate lip-lock.  I
loudly gasped in air and panted, trying to catch my breath and
calm my racing heart.

“Acting!” I told myself. “We’re just acting!”  But, then we did I
have pangs of regret when she broke the kiss?

“Why had she stopped?” I wondered, groggily. Oh!  That’s right! 
The “forced breast play!”

Still using that handful of hair she had hold of, she slowly
forced my head lower, down towards her large, bare, ebony boobs.
Her big nipples were deep brown in color – almost black, and
looked like big, velvety thumbs, set on large, gorgeous, brown
mounds.

She stopped, holding my head over one big chocolate tit, letting
my lower lip graze a nipple while my blonde hair cascaded down
around her dark breast. I tilted my head to glance up. She looked
at me with questioning eyes and I gave her the slightest of nods.

She mouthed the words “Thank you,” and forced my face down onto
her breast.  My mouth was open and she forced as much of her tit
in as she could.

This wasn’t supposed to be happening, either.  She wasn’t
supposed to really make me suck her boobs; she was supposed to
turn a bit on her side and I’d make sucking noises on the side of
her chest, to fool the women watching.

But, I had to deal with the situation I was in. If we wanted to
fool our secret observers, I’d have to play along. Though my lips
were badly stretched, I began sucking as noisily as I could. I
heard two deep moans of pleasure – one from Lukka and one from
the shadows. We were certainly giving them a show!

I slobbered and sucked on Lukka’s big, brown breasts for quite a
while, pretending to be completely consumed by lust. Lukka, for
her part, was giving a stellar performance of pretending to enjoy
my oral attentions.

She pushed me flat onto the sofa and then stood up. She walked to
the arm of the sofa and leaned over it, enveloping my face under
her huge breasts, while *she* started suckling *my* boobs.

This wasn’t in the script, either, but it was such an incredible
feeling, that I didn’t complain. I was half smothered under her
big, dark tits, and strangely excited.  The feel of her thick,
talented lips and tongue on my creamy white breasts was electric
and I knew the hidden lesbians must be going nuts, watching this.

She began slowly began crawling forward, crawling over the sofa
arm, literally crawling over my prone body. Her hungry mouth 
neglected my hard nipples to quest lower and start sucking and
licking the lower curves of my breasts. I sighed with regret as
her own huge brown globes slid off my face and onto my chin and
throat.  I had started to secretly enjoy their smothering
pressure on my face.

Her big tits continued to drag over my body, pressing against my
breasts as she continued to inch down over me, her questing
tongue began slathering over my upper abs.

Then my navel.

I dutifully kissed and licked whatever part of her beautiful
ebony body I found pressed against my face.

She hooked her thumbs under the waistband of my panties and,
without thinking, I raised my ass to accommodate. She slid my
panties off and began nuzzling along the top fringe of my blonde
triangle.

“This isn’t in the script!” my mind screamed. “This wasn’t in the
script!”

I was panicked – I could no longer deny that this wasn’t
play-acting anymore. Somehow, somewhere along the way, this had
turned into a real lesbian seduction.  I had to find a way to
stop this!  Preferably in some way that didn’t cause
embarrassment to Lukka, but … no matter what, I couldn’t go on
with this!

I wasn’t a lesbian!

The big woman had slowly slid into a 69 position, with her on
top. My body was pinned under her weight and her head was buried
between my thighs. I could feel her breath, hot and heavy,
burning on my sopping pussy.

My own head was now wedged deeply between her thick, muscular,
dark thighs. Her coarse, damp pubic hair brushed lightly against
my lips and nose and the musk of her arousal made my head spin.
Droplets of her excitement clung to her matted patch, trickling
into my mouth when they touched my parted lips.  The taste was
tantalizing … irresistible ... I was going crazy with
ever-mounting lust.

She paused.

We waited, frozen in that position as the minutes passed, both
unmoving.

Slowly, I understood. She would not force me – that wasn’t her
style. She was giving me a chance.

A chance to submit to her.

“There’s no way I am going to do that!” I thought, as my tongue
snaked out and took a long, lustful lick of the black woman’s
juice-slickened, swollen vulva.

I was shocked. What the hell had I just done?!? I wasn’t a
lesbian! I WASN’T A LESBIAN, DAMN IT!

The scent of the black woman’s musk seeped into my brain,
exciting me to states of arousal I didn’t know were possible.
Being pinned under her weight was exciting me all the more.

“Ohfuckohfuckohfuck,” I whimpered as waves of lust pounded my
body and brain.

I snapped. Unable to resist any further, I strained my neck up
and started licking in earnest. My questing tongue ran along the
crease of her labia several times, before eagerly parting them to
delve deeper.

Lukka sighed and sat upright, holding herself just off my face,
so I could breathe.  Leisurely, she reached down and began
fingering my fevered blonde pussy.

“You like that, don’t you, white girl,” she murmured. “You like
having a black woman sit on your face, huh!”

Insane with lust, I grasped her hips and pulled her down on me,
forcing her to settle her full weight down onto my face. Her wet,
slick nether lips parted and slid over my upturned face, wedging
me deeply into her hot, wet pussy.  She moaned and began rubbing
herself gently on my upturned face.  I no longer had enough
control to lick any spot continuously, so I laid back and let
myself enjoy the feeling of the beautiful black domme
nonchalantly pleasuring herself on my face.

She used me like this for a good five minutes before a voice cut
through the lust-filled fog of my brain.

“Dayum!” I heard someone exclaim. “I guess there’s no question,
Lukka! You win!”

Our observers must have decided it was safe to come out of
hiding.  I burned with shame at being seen in such a submissively
degenerate position. True, I know that I had known they were
watching, before … but now that *they* knew I knew … that changed
everything. I felt humiliated.  But I continued to lay back and
let my black seductress have her way with me.

Further thought was impossible, anyway; the sensation of this hot
black woman finger-fucking my vulnerable blonde snatch while she
sat on my face was just too overwhelming. Her expert fingers
played me as if I were a musical instrument. Every nerve in my
body thrummed and vibrated in response to her strumming fingers.
She brought me off within minutes and the assembled women cheered
as my body flopped helplessly like a fish out of water, writhing
and twisting as she forced me to cum for her.

Afterwards, Lukka slowly rubbed out her own climax on my
submissive face, as I lay unmoving, pinned beneath her.

After climaxing, she finally dismounted and I was left to
confront the reality of my situation.

I had just been seduced – topped -- by a dominant, black lesbian
… in front of her friends.

My cheeks burned with shame and I wanted nothing more than to
flee the room. I didn’t care about any “bet,” anymore. I realized
that my face must be completely coated with Lukka’s cunt juice,
making me as 'stained’ as I felt. Sobbing gently, I tried to wipe
my besmeared face with the little maid skirt.

“No,” Lukka said, gently restraining my arm. “Leave it. Those
juices mark you as my conquest, honey.”

“My property ...”  The words echoed in my head, but I was dizzy
from denial. Lukka gave me a careful peck on the top of my head,
carefully avoiding having to taste her own juices.

I let the little skirt drop from my nerveless fingers, still
unable to fully process what was happening.

The assembled women thronged around us, congratulating Lukka. To
my surprise, one of the well-wishers was … Barb!  She had just
entered the room – she hadn’t even been here, watching?!?

Lukka and Barb embraced warmly. “Hell, girl,” Barbara sighed to
her friend, “there’s no doubt, you win!  I ain’t never seen a
white girl so *thoroughly* topped!”

I flushed in embarrassment, but at least our little subterfuge
had worked: Lukka had won the bet and her positioning in the
Society was assured. “It hadn’t gone as planned, admittedly,” I
thought, ruefully. I hadn’t planned on getting face-fucked by a
lesbian …

“Oh, what the hell,” I thought. “It’s over. And we were
successful. Lukka had won and that bitch, Barb, had been put in
her place.”  I pushed aside my guilty memories of having found it
so enjoyable.

To distract myself, I leaned over to whisper into Lukka’s ear.
“You going to tell her it was all a set-up?” I whispered, trying
to sound playful.

A slightly guilty expression flashed across Lukka’s face.

“Well,” she grudgingly admitted, not whispering. “It *was* all a
set-up, baby. But Barbara wasn’t the one who was set up.”  I
looked at her in confusion.

Barbara laughed loudly. “Hell, Blondie,” she chuckled. “You’re
slow, even for a white girl!  Don’t you get it?  *You* were the
mark, from the start!  My girl here had the hots for your fine,
white ass and we did a little Good-Cop/Bad-Cop to help her land
you!”

I stared stupidly at the assembled black women, not knowing what
to think.

I’d been … used?  Set up? Seduced?

I looked at Lukka, tears of humiliation and indignation welling
up in my eyes. “You … you set me up?” I asked, voice quavering.
“You used me? You deceived me?!?”

Lukka’s beautiful face wore an expression of pity, but not of
regret. “Yes,” she said, simply. “I wanted you and that was the
best way to get you. You were a proud white girl who thought she
was straight. You needed to be shown different.”

My mind was spinning. “So … in the women’s restroom … you knew I
was there, all the time? Listening? That was all … an act?”

Lukka nodded. “We waited until your little red-haired friend
left. We knew you’d be alone, then.”

Barb laughed. “Oh, come on, Blondie! Sure, you were played like a
chump. But, admit it … you loved it! You loved being able to
indulge your submissive lesbian fantasies without having to admit
to yourself what you really are.”

“I’m not a lesbian,” I said, defiantly.

Barbara smiled and ran a finger across my cheek, leaving a trail
in the drying pussy juice left over from Lukka’s recent
face-fuck.

“Course not,” she smiled.

“You weren’t even here!” I countered. “What do you know about
what went on?!?”  It was a weak argument, as at least two of the
other women *had* been here and seen, but I wasn’t thinking
straight.

Barbara gave me a leering smile. “Too bad, too!” she said. “I
hear it was quite a show!  I’m sorry I missed it.”

I thought I was beyond the ability to be shocked further. But I
was wrong.

The big-titted black woman leaned forward to whisper in my ear:
“I was busy topping your little red-headed friend.”

My eyes widened in shock. My little red-headed friend? Who …?

“Ashley?!?” I gasped.

Before I could even begin to sort this out, Lukka possessively
grabbed hold of my arm and pulled me back to the ballroom. I was
so dazed by my staged seduction and by Barb’s allegation about
Ashley that I didn’t resist, at first.  Stepping from the dimly
lit side room out into the brighter lights of the ballroom
finally snapped me out of it, though.  My still-bare heels dug
into the plush carpet.

“What are you *doing*?!?” I demanded, struggling to break free of
the big woman’s iron grasp. “We’re still *naked*!” I broke into
tears of humiliation.  Was she insane, walking us, unclothed, out
into the main ballroom?!?

Lukka seemed completely oblivious to our state of undress, and
her companions didn’t seem to take much notice, either.  I, on
the other hand, was mortified.

Desperately looking around the grand hall to see who would be
staring and pointing, it became apparent to me that we weren’t
the only ones who weren’t fully dressed. Most of the women seemed
to be either naked or partially undressed. I also noticed that,
while every black woman was standing, every white woman was on
her knees.  Most of the white women sported smeared make-up,
which I realized matched my own appearance.

Had they been “used,” as well?  What had I missed, when I was in
that side room?

I saw Ashley, wrists tied behind her back, on her knees. Barb
left us and assumed control of my friend from the DAALS woman who
had been holding Ashley in place with a cruel grip on a handful
of her red hair. Barb grabbed another fistful of Ashley’s hair
and pushed her white captive’s face up between her black thighs.
The big-titted black woman had a look of smug satisfaction on her
face and poor Ashley was making strangled, choking noises. I
could only assume that she was balking at performing oral sex.

Little did I know.

One of the nearby DAALS women bound my wrists behind my back with
a black, braided cord. Lukka firmly forced me to my knees and
stood in front of me, as I’d seen Barb do to Ashley. My
seductress pulled me forward and pushed my face up between her
legs. Tears burned in my eyes at this public humiliation, but I
realized that something similar must be happening to every white
woman in the hall.

“It’s time, white girl,” Lukka said, “to submit to Black
Supremacy.”

My heart pounded in fear. I had no idea what she meant or what
she had in mind. I just knew I had to escape.

The black dominatrix grabbed my hair from the back of my head and
pulled me, forcing my face up even harder against her still-wet
pussy. My lips were pressed tightly against her cunt lips and her
thick, dark pubic hair tickled my nose.

She pulled down on my hair, forcing my head back and forcing my
mouth open. Was she going to force me to lick her, again, in
front of her friends? Mentally, I was already resigned to having
to “service” her again, even in front of an audience.  I tried to
ignore the growing realization that the idea of being forced to
lick her pussy was turning me on. A lot.

She began to piss into my open mouth.

That was not a turn on.

I squealed in protest, gurgling and choking as I tried to twist
free. But her strong hand kept a steady pressure on my head,
forcing my lips to form an impenetrable seal around her vulva.
With my head bent back at this angle, I couldn’t even close my
mouth.  But I could close my throat. I sobbed and tried to
breathe through my nose as she filled my mouth with hot, bitter
urine.

Just as I thought she’d overflow my mouth, she stopped. I knelt
there in front of her, helpless, mouth filled with her piss.

“Take it, white girl,” Lukka commanded. “Acknowledge that you’re
only fit to drink a black woman’s piss. That your place in life
is kneeling, nude, at my feet, ready to do whatever I command.”

I desperately tried to blink back tears and tried to shake my
head, but the pressure forcing my mouth against her groin was too
great.

“I’ll give you two choices, white girl,” my black dominator told
me. “Swallow it, accepting your subjugation at my hands and
living the rest of your life as my slave …”  I could only sit and
listen, intensely aware that my mouth was completely filled with
her foul fluids.

A strong black hand clamped over my nose, pinching it shut.

“Or die,” she finished.

I tried to scream in protest, but only choked on my mouthful of
hot piss.

She couldn’t do that!  She couldn’t force me … !

But she could. And she was.

My beautiful black captor had me helpless, on my knees, in front
of her – mouth forced to accept her piss, while my lips were
pressed humiliatingly against her sex.

I couldn’t breathe and my head was starting to throb, mirroring
the rhythm of my pulse. My lungs ached and my vision was starting
to blur.

She wouldn’t really kill me, would she?

I opened my eyes and our gazes met. Her cruelly beautiful face
showed no signs of mercy – only the expectation of submission.

Sobbing, I swallowed, trying not to gag.

She released my nose, but not the pressure that kept my open
mouth pressed up against her pussy.  I choked and coughed, but
could feel her filling my mouth, again. I breathed deeply,
through my nose, while my mouth was once again filled.

I looked up at her again, pleading with my eyes.  She merely
pinched my nose closed, again.

Surrendering, I relaxed my throat and swallowed again.

I was beaten.

As she released my nose, I could feel her pissing into my mouth,
yet again.  This time, instead of closing my throat and waiting
for her to fill my mouth, I started swallowing as it came.  She
relaxed the pressure on my head, and I dutifully kept my mouth
clamped to her cunt, drinking her piss.

“That’s it, white girl,” she sighed, releasing her hold on my
hair. No longer having to pace herself, she let loose and sent a
heavy, forceful stream into my mouth and down my throat. “Don’t
spill a fucking drop,” she warned and I swallowed feverishly,
drinking down all she gave me.

When she’d eventually emptied her bladder, she forced me to clean
her with my tongue. Finally satisfied, she took a step away,
sighing contentedly. I collapsed to the carpeted floor, sobbing
in humiliation. Out of the corner of my eye, I saw several other
white women kneeling in front of black women, faces pressed up
against their crotches and drinking noisily.  Others were already
on their backs, with their dark dominators sitting on their
faces.

Ashley was one of the latter.  Barb was lustily massaging her own
massive boobs as she sat on the unmoving red-head’s face.

My new black owner squatted down close and raised my head,
forcing me to look into her eyes.

“You’ve just had a black woman piss down your throat,” she told
me, in a firm voice. “For a white girl, that is a gift,” she
said. I nodded dutifully, tears streaming down my face.

“You think you hated it, don’t you?” she asked, almost tenderly.
I nodded.

“But you didn’t,” she said. “Secretly, you loved it. You love
being used by a black woman.” She gently pushed me onto my back
and slid most of her hand into my well-lubed pussy.

I started to shake my head in protest, but stopped.

I *had* hated it!

Hadn’t I?

But … if I had truly hated it, why was I so fucking turned on? 
Why was I dripping wet and able to accept *four* of the big
woman’s fingers so easily, in my usually tight twat?

What kind of perverted slut *was* I?!?

I started sobbing, but trailed off as her plunging fingers worked
their magic on my dripping snatch.  Soon, I was sobbing in
pleasure.

“You’ll get used to your new role, baby,” the big woman said as
she straddled my head with her toned, dark thighs. “You’ll come
to appreciate that blacks are superior to whites and that your
role is to serve us in any way we desire.”  She removed her hand
and curled her fingers into a fist.

“To serve *me*,” she said, pushing her entire fist into my
dripping, blonde snatch. I grunted lustfully with each of her
down-strokes.

She slowly spun around, never removing her fist from me, and
settled herself down onto my tear-streaked face.

Dutifully, I began licking my new owner’s musky cunt as she
continued to fist-fuck her newly acquired property.
