Race Play Ch. 14

My name is Celeste Lawman and I'm a big and curvy, big-bottomed and large-breasted, middle-aged black woman living in the city of Buffalo, New York. I'm the executive director of the Buffalo Center for the Arts. It's a position which conveyed much power and prestige in the past, but now thanks to the recession, my favorite business has taken a hit. As a lifelong fan of all things artistic, I decided to do whatever I could in order to keep the Buffalo Center for the Arts open.

My chief opponent in this matter is Heather Mitchens, a blonde-haired white woman who works as the Director of the State Council on Artistic Resources. I decided to dig up dirt on my opponent, and found out some fascinating things about her. I learned that Heather Mitchens, the bitchy white woman who wanted to shut down the Buffalo Center for the Arts was a closet lesbian. Her husband and family had no idea that she liked to eat pussy. Even worse is the fact that she was having an affair with a young black woman named Joy, a staff member at the State Council on Artistic Resources. I can't stand that bitch so I decided to bring her down.

So I decided to get some information on her. I took pictures of her kissing her sweetie. With that kind of damaging information in hand, I approached her. I had the upper hand now. What's called leverage. You see, when Heather Mitchens and I first crossed paths, we clashed. A lot of people in New York don't think a black woman should be running the arts center of a major city. They think only stuffy old white people should be at those positions. Well, I worked hard to get where I am. So I wasn't going down without a fight. Heather Mitchens is a beneficiary of the very visible and tangible world of white privilege. This bitch never had to work hard a day in her life. And yet she thought she could judge me. Well, now she was going to pay. And pay dearly, I might add.

I approached Heather Mitchens one day when I saw her at a restaurant. She was dining solo. Upon seeing me, she flashed me that fake smile that white women are so fond of flashing at people they can't stand. Jesus, I can't stand those bitches. I sat down across from her, and offered her the folder. She looked at me tensely. I smiled and told her to open the folder. Looking a bit uneasy, she nevertheless opened the folder. Of course what she saw inside shocked her. I savored the look of surprise, fear and shame which crept into her face.

Oh, man. How I savored that look of fear and shame on the face of this usually arrogant white bitch. I smiled and rubbed my hands together. Scowling, Heather asked me what I wanted. I watched her turn red and grinned. Of course she knew what I wanted. The Buffalo Center of the Arts got state funding and remained open. In fact, Heather Mitchens made a passionate plea for the center. Everyone on the state board was really surprised since she was the staunchest opponent that Buffalo's fast growing and deeply artistic African-American and Hispanic communities ever had. Well, let's just say this arrogant white chick had a change of heart.

Heather Mitchens thought I was going to leave her alone. Well, I wasn't letting her off the hook that easily. You see, it wasn't enough that I saved what was dearest to me. I had to destroy my enemy. I wanted to hurt her. Make her feel pain. White women in America have hurt black women like myself more times than I can count. It's time for one of these bitches to get a taste of their own medicine. See what it's like when they're on the receiving end of it. Oh yes. I was definitely going to enlighten Heather Mitchens by showing this privileged white slut what a strong black woman really is.

I summoned Heather Mitchens to my house, and made her a deal. If she agreed to do everything I asked, I would destroy the evidence of her transgressions once and for all. If she refused, I'd make sure her friends, family members and co-workers found out what kind of freak she really was. We live in a very liberal society these days but I don't New York's high society is ready for a wealthy white woman who lives a double life by sleeping with young black women right under her husband's nose. That's the kind of juicy and raunchy stuff that can destroy a career and turn a rich woman's picture perfect life into a nightmare. Of course, Heather was definitely in no position to refuse me. That made this so damn sweet.

I sat on my chair in the living room, and ordered Heather Mitchens to undress before me. The rich white slut hesitated. I corrected her toot sweet by smacking her hard across the face. Heather gasped aloud after I smacked her. Clearly this rich white bitch wasn't used to being treated this way. I smiled coldly and told her to do as I said, or else. Heather nodded, and undressed. I sat there, fingering my pussy while gazing at her. Just as I thought, Heather was skinny, flat-chested and flat-bottomed. Just like the majority of white women in this country. Actually, make that this world. An okay face, but no chest, no ass and no sexy body. Why do so many white chicks have the same build as young white guys? I guess I'll never know. Maybe it's a white thing, who knows? I can dig it.

I licked my lips while looking at her. Simply put, that arrogant white woman's discomfort was sweet nectar to this black woman. I ordered Heather to kneel before me and she did. I smiled. That's really good. More stuck-up white people should be made to bow before strong black women like myself. Seriously. It might cause them to lose their inbred arrogance and bring them closer to God. I rose to my feet and glowered at Heather. Here I was, a strong black woman standing over a kneeling, cowering white woman brought low by my greatness and ruthlessness. I savored the moment.

Then I put Heather through her paces. My way of putting this arrogant, rich white slut in her place. I grabbed Heather's face and asked her why she liked black women so much. Heather's face turned red and she told me that she liked black women because of their confidence and strength. I grinned. I knew it. This white dyke had jungle fever. And like so many of her kind, she lusted after strong black women. Well, she was in luck. Tonight, she was getting dominated by the strongest black woman of all. Yours truly.

I took out my belt and proceeded to turn Heather's alabaster skin a deep crimson. Life is so much better in color, don't you think? I whipped Heather's back, ass and tits. I even whipped her face. Through it all, she squealed and howled. Hell, she kept begging and whining the entire time. I laughed and just whipped her harder. Submissive white chicks should get their butts whipped by strong black women more often. It might make them better people. I spanked Heather's pale white ass and smacked her hard in the face. I thrust my fingers into her pussy, three at a time. She squealed in surprised delight. I spat in her face and shoved my fingers into her asshole. A shocked groan escaped her lips. Grinning, I decided to put her through the sweetest of hells.

I took out my strap-on dildo and dipped it in lubricant. Then I spread her ass cheeks wide open and pressed my dildo against her asshole. With a swift thrust, I went inside. Heather howled as my dildo entered her asshole. I laughed and began fucking her harder. White chicks need fucking and this strong black woman is definitely the right person for the job. I wielded my strap-on dildo with authority and dexterity as I took Heather on the ride of her life. I slammed my dildo deep up her ass like there was no tomorrow. She howled. I laughed. She squealed. I roared. It was so damn hot.

Half an hour later, I was done with Heather. I figured she got punished enough. I smacked her, whipped her, spanked her and fucked her ass with a strap-on dildo. Hell, I even peed on her. What more could I do to this slut? I had enough of her. I had my revenge. So I handed her the photos. Then I told Heather to pack her stuff and get the hell out of my house. Heather hesitated. I looked at her. What in hell did she want now? She bit her lip, then returned the photos to me. I stared at her, stunned. Heather swallowed hard, then told me that when I fucked her, she came for the first time in months. I was really surprised to hear that. Heather told me she wanted to be my slave from now on. She got off on being dominated. I looked at her, then grinned. I took a collar and fixed it around her neck. Then I told her what I expected of her.

Over the next few months, Heather Mitchens divorced her husband of ten years and retired from public life. She also signed all of her assets over to me. She now lives with me, and waits on me. She obeys my every command. This rich white woman has decided to do something different with her life. Something more demanding, mentally and physically. She wants to be my servant. She searched her soul and discovered that deep down, it's what makes her comfortable in life. Who am I to disagree?