“You bought a house in the Whiteside suburb?” Asked a surprised, but amused Katrina.

“It’s the final frontier,” Janet smiled.

“I suppose so,” Big Rosie chuckled, as she let out a moan.

Janet continued, “It wasn’t easy, but with your inside connections with Governor Daphne Green, that racist committee couldn’t legally prevent the purchase.”

“It’s good to have connections,” Big Rosie laughed. “She loves my pussy.”

“As they all do, isn’t that right, slut Jasmine?” Katrina added.

The white teacher of Janet’s twelfth grade daughter, Bethany, lifted her head from Rosie’s addictive pussy and answered, “Yes, mistresses, all us white sluts love black pussy.”

“What about you, slut Portia?” Katrina questioned.

Another white woman, immaculately dressed, the wife of a rich business man, busy between Janet’s legs, answered, “Of course, Mistress, black pussy is all I want to serve.”

Katrina chuckled, pulling up the blonde eighteen year old cheerleader, “Lastly, what about you our new pussy-pleasing recruit?”

The blonde, a younger version of her mother Portia, her face gleaming with pussy juice stammered, “I-I-I don’t know.”

“Are you our white cunt-licker?” Katrina asked.

“I guess,” the pretty young girl said, clearly nervous, as she glanced to her mother, whose head was buried between a pair of black legs licking away hungrily.

“You guess?” Katrina scolded. “Do you want to keep licking my cunt?”

“Yes,” the blonde admitted instantly, the feeling of pleasing this black woman exhilarating even though she couldn’t explain why. The thought that her racist dad would be mortified by seeing his wife and daughter submitting to the inferior race, his words, somehow enhanced the pleasure of her submission.

“And you want to please me again and again?” Katrina questioned.

“Yes,” the young girl agreed, her gaze returning to the pretty pink pussy between those beautiful black legs.

“Who owns you?” Katrina asked.

The question was confusing at first and she didn’t answer.

Katrina asked, “Slut Portia who owns your mouth, cunt and ass?”

“All black women, of course,” Portia answered as if the question was obvious, looking up from between Janet’s legs and towards her bewildered daughter.

The daughter stared at her mom confused, as Katrina continued, “We expect complete obedience, my pet. We, of course, know what is good for you, don’t we slut Portia?”

“Yes, Mistress, my daughter and I are your willing servants,” the older woman admitted, nodding to her daughter with a firm look of do as you’re told, before adding, “Belinda obey, they are the Mistress race.”

The young blonde looked dazed for a moment, but then the clarity that often comes once a white woman has tasted the addictive black nectar hit her and she turned back to the beautiful black goddess and said, “I am yours, Mistress.”

“Good girl,” Katrina purred, pulling the pretty eighteen year old back between her legs.

Belinda licked with a new hunger and mission, suddenly understanding completely her submissive position, the taste of black pussy something she couldn’t fathom not tasting again now that she had sampled perfection.

Just then Katrina’s daughter Barbara, an eighteen year old beauty, walked in and seeing Belinda gasped, “You got me my arch enemy?”

“Consider it an early Christmas present my dear,” Katrina said.

“This is the best present ever,” Barbara said, looking down at the stuck-up blonde bitch.

She asked, giddy with excitement, so many ideas on what she planned to do with her in her head, “Can I take her upstairs?”

“Of course, my dear, she’s your present; you can take her mother too,” Katrina added.

“You’re the best Mom,” Barbara said, coming over and giving her a big hug.

Katrina pulled the young blonde’s hair lifting her head up and explained, “You have been a very big bitch to my daughter for a long time. That, by the way, is why I went after your mother, not that she was much of a challenge, eagerly munching my cunt the day I met her. You, my pet, will obey my daughter without hesitation.”

Belinda stammered, even though she was mortified to realize that not only had she been caught eating a black girl’s vagina, it was the vagina of the mother of the nerdy girl she picked on at school, “Y-y-yes.”

“You want to eat my nigger cunt?” Barbara asked. “Isn’t that what you called me at school the other day?”

“Yes, Barbara,” Belinda admitted, her racist attitude now seeming so silly. “Please let this white bitch eat your cunt to apologize for being such a bitch.”

“Oh, I am going to have fun with you,” Barbara said, her tone ominous with her naughty intent to completely humiliate the white bitch who had tormented her all throughout high school.

Jasmine, who had made Big Rosie come, had now crawled between Janet’s legs, thankful not to be seen by any of her students other than Janet’s daughter Bethany, as Janet continued, “I think we will have a big house warming just before Christmas.”

“Whiteside isn’t going to know what hit them,” Big Rosie laughed.

As Janet, began grinding her cunt on the eager white teacher, she nodded, “it’s going to be a very, very white Christmas for me.”

“And a very, very, black Christmas for them.” Big Rosie added.

WELCOME TO THE NEIGHBORHOOD

Moving into the new community felt like the ending of segregation of southern schools in the 1960’s and 1970’s.

Every set of white eyes watching the black family was judging with a preconceived notion of who they were. Ignoring the reality that the Jones were a very successful family, more successful than almost every white family in this walled community.

Mr. David Jones was a CEO of one of the biggest telecommunications companies and was well respected in the business community, yet here in the gated community of Whiteside he was a threat to a way of life that had to be protected at all costs.

Janet was prepared for the looks she would get of disdain, bitterness and pure racial hatred, yet the thought of turning some of the richest whitest bitches in America into her submissive playthings was her greatest challenge yet. Her daughter, Bethany, although just eighteen had also learned the alluring power she had over white girls and women when the power struggle confrontation took place.

Janet had taught her daughter that the majority of white women lived in a world of denial…following society’s silly rules of uppity pretentiousness and thus never coming to grips with their own sexuality. And although there were exceptions to the rule, most white women were submissive and desperately looking for someone to guide them into the world of sexual obedience…even if they didn’t realize it.

Janet believed the more taboo the submission the more powerful and nothing was more taboo than lesbian submission for a white than with a black woman…racism was alive and well in 2014 and thus the greatest taboo.

She also noticed white women in power (either via their jobs or as wealthy wives) are the most vulnerable to the undeniable allure of a seductive black woman. Living the life of high society and false perfection was always too much to keep up and letting loose sexually by giving in completely to another person, particularly something naughty and sinister, like a black woman was almost impossible to resist once it was presented.

Bethany reflected on her first seduction, her Chemistry teacher, Mrs. Currie. She had simply followed her mother’s advice and aggressively verbally assaulted her second favourite white teacher, her mother already having seduced her favourite, Mrs. Walker, at parent-teacher interviews. Her mom confidently predicted that although Mrs. Currie was very proper, sweet and firm, underneath that tough exterior was a submissive who would obey, after a weak pathetic moral resistance. As usual, her mom was correct and Mrs. Currie submitted with very little resistance and Bethany had her teacher licking her cunt in her classroom almost daily the rest of the first semester.

Bethany was both excited about the possibility of new white women and girls to Domme, but also full of trepidation of being the only black teenager in the neighbourhood.

Janet was only excited. She loved the challenge and couldn’t wait to start turning these white bitches…as it was the season of giving after all…and she was going to give these women a whole new outlook on life one stuck-up racist bitch at a time.

…..

Tamara Adler, head of the welcoming committee, reluctantly brought over a welcome package to the new residents. She wasn’t happy at all about a black family moving in, but she wasn’t going to show that side of herself as she greeted them into the close knit community.

The immaculately dressed white woman knocked on the door and was surprised when a white woman in her thirties, opened the door, dressed in a maid’s outfit with a skirt so short the top of her black thigh high stockings were in view.

Tamara stammered, “Is the lady of the house here?”

“Yes, ma’am,” the very pretty redheaded maid answered, “Please come in.”

Tamara walked in curiously and watched the maid go into the living room and say, “Mistress Jones, you have a guest.”

“Please bring her in,” Janet said.

“Of course, Mistress,” the maid replied before returning to the stunned blonde and offering, “Please follow me ma’am.”

Tamara couldn’t believe that this black family had a white maid or that the beautiful white woman would dress so inappropriately and call a black women mistress. Tamara followed and was surprised again when she finally saw the new tenant of 243 Parkway Road. She was very pretty, dressed elegantly, with her feet being massaged by another white woman, this girl much younger, maybe twenty, dressed identically to the redheaded maid.

Janet snapped her fingers and the young brunette stopped instantly, stood up and awaited further orders.

Janet slipped her feet into four inch heels which had her towering over her maid and new guest. She walked over to the white woman, her next prey, and said, “Hi, I’m Janet Jones.”

Tamara was still trying to get her head around the black woman having white servants (although Tamara had three black servants herself) as she stammered, out of her element, “H-h-hi, I am Tamara Adler and I’m part of the welcoming committee.”

“How lovely,” Janet smiled, assessing the fake-titted blonde.

“Here you go,” Tamara said, handing the black woman the expensive package.

“Thank you,” Janet said, snapping her fingers as the young brunette quickly came and took the package.

Tamara, still in awe of the pretentious black woman and the fact that she had white servants, was speechless.

“Come sit down and have a coffee,” Janet said smiling.

“No, no, that is okay,” Tamara insisted.

“Oh, I insist,” Janet said, “it is the least I can do. Turning to the redhead she ordered, “Please bring us coffee and biscuits.”

“Right away, Mistress,” the redhead nodded and disappeared into the kitchen.

“Please sit,” Janet offered politely, but yet with a tone that implied it wasn’t a suggestion.

Although she wanted to leave, Tamara felt inclined to stay even though she couldn’t explain why.

“So, what do you do for a living?” Janet asked, sitting back down herself.

“I don’t work,” Tamara admitted, adding, “very few of us do in this community. That said, we have a very active female community.”

“How so?” Janet asked, curious to find out more about this white community so she could bring it down and knowing that soon indeed there would be lots more female activity.

Tamara answered, “PTA meetings, charity fundraisers, bridge afternoons and so forth.”

“Sounds like fun,” Janet smiled.

The redheaded maid returned with a tray with coffee and biscuits.

“How do you like your coffee, Tamara?” Janet asked.

“It’s Mrs. Adler,” Tamara corrected, before saying, “Just black please.”

“A very good choice, Tamara,” Janet smiled, ignoring the white woman’s early correction and playing on her coffee preference which would soon be her sexual cunt munching preference.

“Barbie, please pour my guest her coffee?” Janet ordered.

“Of course, Mistress,” the redheaded maid agreed, pouring a cup of black coffee.

Tamara couldn’t believe the maid’s name was Barbie.

Returning to the conversation, Janet said, “So it sounds like you ladies have a lot of fun.”

Tamara, realizing she had told her too much, not wanting the black woman to actually think she could be a part of this female society, said, “Oh, it is pretty bland most of the time.”

“Oh, I bet I can liven it up with a bit of color,” Janet quipped, playfully.

Tamara warned, deciding it was time, “I suggest you be careful. There is a long history here.”

“How so?” Janet asked, wanting to hear Tamara say it.

Tamara sighed, not wanting to speak about the elephant in the room. “It’s just some people here are still living in the past.”

“You mean because I’m black,” Janet asked bluntly.

“Yes,” Tamara admitted. “Some here are quite unhappy that you have moved into our community.”

“Well that is disappointing,” Janet said, before asking, her tone implying disappointment, “Are you one of those?”

Tamara stammered suddenly feeling uncomfortable, “N-n-no.”

“You sure?” Janet asked.

Tamara couldn’t believe this woman, this black woman, would dare speak to question her so rudely. “This is ridiculous.”

“What is ridiculous is white women thinking they are better than other races,” Janet said.

“I don’t think that,” Tamara said, even though that was what she had always thought, yet until now she had never spent this much time face to face with a woman of colour who wasn’t a servant of hers or a friends.

“Is that so?” Janet asked.

“Yes,” Tamara said, trying to stand firm.

“Do you have maids?” Janet questioned.

“Of course,” Tamara answered.

“Are they white?” Janet asked.

“No,” Tamara admitted.

“Why not?” Janet asked.

“Because that is not how the social hierarchy works?” Tamara boldly answered, wanting to make it clear how this white community ran.

“And how does it work?” Janet asked.

“You know how it works,” Tamara countered, not backing down.

“Oh please share, I am just a dumb nigger,” Janet sarcastically said standing up.

“Don’t put words in my mouth,” Tamara said, standing up too. “You have white maids which makes you just as racist as me.”

Janet laughed, attempting to clarify, “My maids are servants to their sin.”

“Excuse me?” Tamara asked, the words not making sense.

“As you will soon be too,” Janet foreshadowed, as she walked directly to the white woman.

“This whole conversation is ridiculous,” Tamara said, as she began to leave.

“Stop,” Janet ordered.

Tamara surprisingly felt compelled to obey and stopped.

Janet moved in front of the nervous blonde again and asked, “Are you hungry?”

Tamara said, sensing something was amiss, “I should get going.”

Janet, staring her down with her hypnotic chocolate eyes, repeated, “I asked you a simple question, are you hungry?”

“A little, it’s close to lunch,” Tamara answered, feeling obliged to answer this strong willed pretentious woman.

“Well then you should stay for lunch,” Janet concluded logically.

“I really have to go,” Tamara said, feeling completely uncomfortable around this tall, beautiful woman. ‘Did I just think of her as beautiful?’ She thought to herself.

“Yes, you do need to go somewhere,” Janet nodded, before adding, her tone firm, “On your knees.”

“Excuse me,” Tamara gasped, stunned by the words of the black woman.

Janet loved seeing the look of a white woman when the true expectation she was giving was first spoken. The look of shock was always utterly hilarious.

“On…your…knees,” Janet said, speaking slower, her sarcastic tone obvious.

“I have never,” Tamara said insulted, yet not moving away like she theoretically should.

“Never what? Eaten black pussy?” Janet smugly said.

“Stop this instant,” Tamara said, as Janet put her hands on the white woman’s shoulders.

“You already know how this is going to end,” Janet smiled confidently, before adding, “you can not deny your DNA.”

“You are just talking nonsense,” Tamara said, although she couldn’t seem to move away from this black woman and her confident seductive pull.

“Am I?” Janet asked. “I bet if I put my hand under your designer dress your pretty little white box is soaked and begging for attention.”

“That is just downright ludicrous,” a defiant Tamara firmly replied, even as she realized the black woman was completely right, her panties were drenched.

“Is it?” Janet laughed. “Barbie please check if Mrs. Adler’s cunt is wet.”

“You will do no such thing,” Tamara threatened, as the redheaded maid walked towards her.

“Don’t you dare move, my pet. If I am wrong I will apologize and we will never talk about this again. Actually, if your cunt isn’t wet I will sell this house and let this neighbourhood return to its 1950s idyllic backwards white utopia,” Janet said, her tone firm, and so confident in her words she was willing to risk everything.

Tamara wanted to protest, frustrated that her body had betrayed her so badly. She could have stopped this whole silly black infestation if she were dry down below, but she wasn’t, not at all. She watched helplessly, mortified by her weakness, as the redhead dropped to her knees, moved her head under Tamara’s dress and touched her wetness.

Tamara let out a soft moan at the surprise touch.

Still under the dress, the redhead announced, “Her panties are soaking wet, Mistress.”

“Thank you, Barbie,” Janet said, as she went to a tree and grabbed a candy cane.

Unwrapping it, she put it in her mouth, before saying, “You may return to your other duties.”

“Of course, Mistress,” the maid obeyed, moving out from underneath the stunned white woman.

Tamara stammered, “I-I-I need to go.”

“You need to get on your knees,” Janet said firmly, her hands going back to her shoulders and gently pushing down the white women.

Tamara tried to resist, but the magnetic pull to the floor was impossible to deny and she felt her body lowering. She couldn’t understand it; she was not a lesbian; she disliked black people on principle; yet, she was obeying like a slave. “Please, don’t,” Tamara weakly protested.

“Don’t what?” Janet asked, looking down at her dazed prey.

“I don’t, I am not, I can’t,” Tamara tried to explain but her brain was clouded, as the black woman lifted up her skirt and revealed a shaved pussy.

“I can see the hunger in your eyes, Tamara,” Janet assessed, looking down at her newest conquest. “Your mind is protesting, your morals are screaming at you, but your body, your body is in control. Your mouth is watering isn’t it?”

Frustration riddled her. Everything Tamara said was a hundred percent correct. She knew this was wrong, that her daddy and husband would be mortified and disown her if they could see her at this moment, yet her body betrayed her and her mouth did water at the appetizing vagina in front of her. “Yes,” she whispered meeker than a mouse.

“Yes, what?” Janet asked, loving this moment. The moment of admittance when the pretentious white bitch accepts and declares her new reality. The look in the white woman’s eyes, one of confusion and insatiable lust, was always amusing.Tamara hated being made to say the words; she understood this black woman was playing a psychological game, yet the black pussy, just inches from her face, an odd, intriguing aroma lingering had her mind a muddled mess. She answered, still rather quietly, “Yes, my mouth is watering.”

“What are you hungry for?” Janet asked, revelling in the final moments before another successful conversion transpired.

“To-to-to taste you,” the overwhelmed, ashamed white woman answered, not even believing the words coming out of her mouth.

“To taste my what?” Janet asked, moving the candy cane to her pussy and sliding it between her pussy lips.

The only thing worse than the reality that she was on her knees in front of this black woman, was the fact that the black woman was teasing her so much, clearly amused at the position she had put her in. Yet, again, the words out of her mouth only enhanced her obedience, her submission, “Your vagina.”

Janet scoffed, sliding the end of the candy cane inside her. “My vagina? I have a pussy, a cunt, use adult words, my pet.”

Hearing herself be referred to as a ‘pet’ only compounded the intense shame cascading through her. She was nobody’s pet. Suddenly feeling a rush of strength, she stood up and said those exact words, “I’m nobody’s pet.”

Janet put the candy cane that had just been between her pussy lips to the defiant white bitch’s lips. “Just a sample, my pet,” she purred, not rattled at all by the sudden strength. She had often seen the brief moment of stubborn denial at different points of a seduction and yet almost, without fail, the resistance was short lived…this one shorter than usual.

Tamara absentmindedly opened her mouth and took the candy cane in her mouth. She tasted just the slight remnants of Janet’s wetness. The taste was indescribable. For a woman who lived a decadent life in all ways including food, this was an exotic taste unlike anything she had ever tasted. She immediately wanted to taste more, so much so she didn’t realize she was bobbing on the candy cane slowly.