Carefully I tuck my children into bed, pulling the blankets over their shoulders and kissing their foreheads goodnight. Gosh they look like such angels laying there falling asleep. I stand above them for a moment watching their peaceful faces and begin to envy them. Their lives are so simply at this point, not like mine. Oh did I envy them.

Turning off the lamp I slowly close the door behind me, careful not to make a sound. Moving down the hall I come upon my bedroom, where my wonderful husband lays fast asleep. I sigh contently at the sight, so glad I have a man like him. I truly am fortunate to have the family I have. To have a home like this, a wonderful car, and a good job. Yet... There has always been something missing. Something that I've secretly craved for a long, long time. Something that I can no longer go on without trying at least one time.

With the most guilty of feelings I take my purse off the nightstand and carefully close the bedroom door. I make as little noise as possible as I move towards the front of the house. It takes a lot of courage to turn that knob, but I do.

For twenty minutes I drive through the city. Even though I know where I'm going, I still feel lost. This is a big step I'm taking. Until now it had all been in my mind. My dreams, my fantasies. All safely tucked away in the back of my twisted brain since high school. Back when 'She' first stuck it in there.

I was leaving my family behind, if only briefly, to finally realize the desires of that day so long ago.

Turning the corner I instantly see them. Young hardly dressed women of the night walking up and down the street. White, Asian, Black, or Hispanic. All competing for the attention of the various dark tinted cars passing along their sides. I remain at the corner, my car running idle as I stare at the women, looking for the one I'm here to see.

"Last chance", I whisper to myself. I still didn't have to do this. As much as my cunt was begging to push the car forward my brain was pleading for me to turn the wheel around. To go back to my kids, my husband, my home. To be a normal woman who didn't need to act out her panty drenching fantasies.

I might have actually listened to my brain if I had not seen her a moment later. The dark complexion of the girl I had come to see was unmistakable. The girl who I had been watching walk up and down these streets for almost a month. The black girl I had chosen to abuse my body tonight like the black girl in high school never did.

Turning off my brain, my foot presses on the gas. Rounding the corner I move the car closer and closer. I could clearly see she was wearing her typical street outfit. Micro skirt hugging her ass, tight pink tube top revealing every curve and bump of her breasts, and of course those shiny red high heels.

I'm almost upon her when she finally turns my way and notices the green SUV rolling along side her. Pressing fully on the breaks, the car comes to a stop just as she taps on the passenger window. With one last deep breath I press it down.

I can see the look of surprise when she sees who the driver is, clearly not expecting a woman. She takes a moment to look into the back seat to see if there is anyone else, then looks back at me.

"Looking for a good time tonight Mrs?"

I shyly nod my head, too nervous to know what else to do.

She casually opens the unlocked door and gets in. I'm amazed that I've actually gotten this far, having a prostitute inside my car. The only question left to know is if she'd actually do what I ask once I tell her. If she can look past the odd nature of my request and satisfy what I crave from her.

"In here or someplace else?"

I look at her dumbly, mentally too buzzed to react to her question.

"You want to get your freak on in the car or someplace else?"

"Someplace else." I whisper, gaining slightly my senses.

"Ok, but your paying for the room as well."

I nod, then allow her to direct me a couple blocks until we arrive at a modest looking motel complex. The whole time that I'm driving I can see her looking at me out of the corner of my eye. I can tell she's trying to figure me out and discover what game I might be playing. Why would this normal looking white woman in an SUV be requesting services from a girl like her?

While she waited outside, I went into the lobby to get a room. The guy must have seen how nervous I was as my shaking hand signed for the room and took the key from him. Thankfully he didn't bother to ask of my troubles.

Room #4 was what he had given to me. The girl was waiting right there beside me as I fumbled to unlock the door. By now she had lost her earlier curiosity about me and was impatiently waiting for me to get it all over with. For a brief moment I consider backing out, questioning the craziness of my actions. What was I doing here? Did I really need this black woman to satisfy my deepest, oldest, most perverse fantasy? Wasn't masturbation good enough anymore?

Before pushing the door open, I look back one last time and see her pretty black face. No, masturbation just wouldn't do it for me any more.

I was ever so nervous as she sat there on the bed in silence, studying me, trying to figure out if I was legit or just as crazy as I sounded. I couldn't stop from fidgeting as she stared at me from the corner of the bed, making me feel like such a fool. Who asks such things? This was wrong.

"You want me to do what?"

I knew she wouldn't immediately understand. It's so complicated, yet so childish.

"I... want you to... (I took another watery swallow)... Dominate Me!"

Again she stared at me, probably trying to form a picture of my absurdity in her mind. It wasn't forming quickly enough.

"Well, like how?"

Gosh I was hoping she wouldn't ask too many questions. I just pay her and she'd dominate me. What's so hard to understand?

"I want you to treat me... like... (I held my breath)... dirt!"

A smile crept across her pretty young face. A smile that told me she liked what she was hearing, even if so strange. Then the smile turned to one of greater curiosity.

"Why"

"Oh please, must we discuss this? I'm willing to pay..."

"Lady, its not every day that a fancy looking white woman with an SUV asks me to treat her like dirt. What's the catch?"

Catch? This girl wants to know if there's a catch? Can't she just say yes? Can't she just agree to punish me like that black bitch in high school should have?

"Either you tell me what you really are here for, or I'm out of here!"

With that she got to her feet and made for the door.

"WAIT!" I cried after her. I didn't get this close only to get denied. "Please don't go."

She turned around and looked directly at me.

"I... have this... fantasy..."

"Yes?..."

"Its about this girl I knew back in high school. A black girl."

"Go on!" She raised an eyebrow of perked curiosity as I lowered my gaze to the floor shamefully.

"Well, she and I... well... never really got along. You see she was one of the few black girls at the school at the time and well, my girl friends and I would made fun of her incessantly."

"That doesn't sound very nice of you." She now looked a little perturbed.

"Yes well... that's what young girls do to others who don't exactly 'fit in'."

"You don't have to tell me lady. I've grown up hearing the shit you white women say behind our backs."

A tingle went up my spine at those words. I was getting slightly worried that I might offend her. Yet the look in her eyes told me I better continue explaining myself.

"I... I think I may have been the worst to her. I was always one of the first girls to start something up, making fun of her hair, her cloths, her face, her background..."

"And she just took it? She never tried to get back at you?" I could definitely sense the anger in her voice.

"No, never. Until one day that is."

The young prostitute slowly made her way back to the bed where she sat on its edge, now apparently ready to here the real reason why we were both here. She looked at me with renewed interest.

"It happened on a day that I was particularly nasty to her. My friends and I just couldn't leave her alone in one of our classes and I could tell she was both miserable and angry at us for doing so. Yet as naive as I was, I thought nothing of how enraged we were actually making her. I should have seen it coming, but I simply wasn't prepared for what she had planed after school."

I could see that she was now very much interested in my story.

"Usually my two best friends and I headed home through the fields at the back of the school. We lived not too far from there and it was usually a rather quick walk. I guess she knew we'd be going through there again that day."

"And? Did she finally teach you bitch's a lesson?"

Another shiver went through my body. I knew what the answer to her question was. I've thought about it for all of my adult life.

"No, she didn't!"

The whore just sat there looking at me, waiting for more explanation.

"Later that day, as we rounded the corner of the school, she surprised the three of us from behind. All I heard was my name being shouted, and by the time I finished turning around, a black hand had hit me HARD across my face. I saw stares as I stumbled back. The next thing I knew I was being pushed hard against a wall, her face inches away from mine. Both my friends were cowering on their knees, their cheeks red as well."

A defiant smile went from ear to ear on the black prostitute, obviously approving of the actions taken thus far by the black heroin in my story.

"I tried to fight her off, to push her away from me. But after several more slaps, I had tears in my eyes and was totally powerless. When I felt her fingers around my neck, my attention was completely hers."

"What else did she do?"

"Not much else physically. She simply held my neck tightly in her hand as she berated me. Cursing my friends and I, calling us horrible horrible names."

"Tell me what she called you girls."

"She... called us... Stupid White Racist Cunts!

The whore nodded approvingly. I just knew my checks were red with shame.

"By the time she was done yelling, she had thoroughly assured that I would NEVER bother her again. Releasing my neck from her grasp I fell to my knees where she spat on me before storming off past my friends.

"AND?"

"And I never bothered her again."

I could see the look of disappointment in her eyes. She, like I, clearly hoped that there would be more to the story.

"So tell me lady. Why are we both in this motel room tonight?"

"Because... well... when I had fallen to my knees, my... I mean... I was... wet!" She just continued staring at me, not a change in her expression. "And... my nipples were... hard!" Still no look of change in her face. "Ever since, all I have ever thought about was that day. Her fingers around my neck with her face inches from mine, her voice pounding into my ears, my friends in tears on the floor. Gosh did she seem so powerful, so dominant over me. I felt so weak, so pathetic, so... helpless before her. Ever since I've dreamed, no... masturbated to the thoughts of what if. What if she'd decided to truly teach me a lesson for being a... 'Stupid racist white cunt'? What if she would have punished me like I've fantasiesed all these years? What if? That is why I am here with you tonight. I want you to punish me like she never did."

I looked pleadingly at her, breathless form the pouring of emotional words I had just given. Yet her face the whole time remained unchanged, unmoved.

For a minute we both stared at each other. I was getting very nervous. Surely she must think I am crazy. Surely she must realize the perverse nature of my request. What woman would want another to abuse her, black or white, money or for free?

Finally a smirk came over her gorgeous face.

"Take off your blouse."

I held my breath for a moment. Did she just want me to take it off? Did this mean she was actually agreeing to do it?

The stern look on her face instinctively brought my hands up to my buttons. The whole time I was unbuttoning all I could do was look at her, trying to gain a hint of what she was thinking. My blouse fell away and landed by my feet on the floor. Her eyes immediately centering upon my bra covered chest.

"Remove it."

With an electric sigh I reached back and unclasped my bra from behind, pulling it forward and letting my pale white breasts fall free. Instantly a sly smirk appeared on her face as she gazed the size of my tits. For the first time since high school, I was feeling helpless before a black woman.

I allowed the bra to fall from my hands.

Never taking her eyes off my chest, she rose from the bed and slowly moved towards where I was standing. By now I was distinctly trembling before her.

A moan escaped my lips when her warm, soft hands cupped both fleshy orbs. I freely admit how nice it felt to be fondled this delicate way. Closing my eyes I passively stood there as I let her play with them, feeling her fingers roam, before finding their way to the center of each breast, to the rock hard nipples I knew were begging for attention. Gosh did I need this. Even with out the fantasies, I so needed it.

"Four hundred dollars." I opened my eyes and looked at her.

I had almost forgotten about this part, the negotiation. As her fingers tightened around each nipple, I was hardly in any position to disagree with her price. Numbly I nodded my head.

"You're crazy you know that?"

Again I numbly nodded my head. I surely was.

Letting go of my nipples she walked back to the edge of the bed and retook her seat upon it.

"First you pay! I don't want you complaining afterwards that I was too hard with you."

I quickly made my way over to my purse across the room. I wanted this to begin as soon as possible. As I moved my breasts jiggled quite comical I'm sure. Reaching down I picked my purse up off the chair and opened it, pulling out four crisp hundred dollar bills. Walking back over to her she took them from my hand.

"You know I will never understand you white women," she said mockingly as she held the bills up to the light, checking if they were real. "always acting as if you're the top of the gene pool," She placed the bills into her top, between her dark cleavage. "only to show up here begging to get..."

She paused in mid sentence, for the first time noticing the trembling of my body. She could see how nervous I really was.

"Are you sure you want to do this?" She asked, for the first time with a hint of compassion. I pleadingly nodded my head, looking her straight in the eyes. I needed this more than she knew.

With a sigh of indifference she told me to put my hands behind my head. My stomach was actually jerking with my failed attempts to breath normally. It was finally, actually happening. All my fantasies, all my dreams, I was finally going to live them.

With my hands clasped above my neck, my breasts lifted towards her.

"Beg!"

I blink several times at her. Beg? But... but I was paying her?

"Please, don't make me." I whimpered, realizing how much more embarrassing it would be to do so.

"No begging, no playing!"

I looked back to her face, a small tear collecting in my right eye.

"Please... Mistress, will... you..."

"MISTRESS? HAH, no one has ever called me that before. I like it, say it again!"

"Please Mistress, will you kindly... punish me?" I looked down at my chest at the two white swaying orbs. The same two orbs my husband loves to fondle and caresses. The same breasts I've always been proud of. The same two tits that I was now offering to the hands of a twenty something black prostitute.

"Punish what Lady? What of yours would you like me to have punished?"

There was no longer any reason to hide pretenses. I was paying her to abuse my body, and it was time to tell her to do exactly that.

"My TITS Mistress! Please punish them!"

I heard a giggle escape her lips.

"But they are such pretty white things. Why would you want to make them all red and sore?"

"Please, just hurt them!" I couldn't believe I was actually begging this much for it. Didn't she have four hundred dollars in her top for her trouble?

"Not until pretty white lady tells me why she wants a black whore to smack her cute little titties!"

"Because... because..."

"Because?"

"BECAUSE I'M A STUPID WHITE RACIST CUNT!"

<SLAP!>

The words just flowed out of my mouth magically. I didn't even think I had the guts to say them. Yet the moment I did, a gasp quickly escaped my lips as she struck my left breast with her open palm, totally unprepared for the stinging pain surging to my brain. She paused, allowing my breasts to finish jiggling about on my chest. I always knew the breasts were sensitive, but...

<WHACK>

This time, my right breast jiggled about as I bit my lower lip.

"Please, more!" I croaked.

<SLAP>... <SLAP>

The left, then the right breast went swaying as she delivered two equally forceful blows. I instinctively dropped my hands over my trebling tits, bringing them into my chest. I tried to rub the soreness out of them, but they still stung painfully. My paid tormentress sat patiently until I again placed my hands behind my head, offering my reddening tits for more of her punishment.

"Is this what's supposed to happens to racist white bitches when they cross black women? Are their big white titties supposed to get slapped to teach them a lesson?"

I numbly nodded my head.

<WHACK><WHACK><WHACK><WHACK>

I moaned painfully as my knees grew weak. I struggle to remain standing with my hands behind me. The pain was unreal, but boy did I ever feel so alive!

<WHACK><WHACK><WHACK><WHACK><WHACK>

Tears were streaming down my cheeks as my tits flew every which way in tune with her swatting hands. The weight on my chest constantly shifting from the heavy abuse. I managed to close my eyes and imagine myself once again on that field. My friends on the grass in shock and tears, watching the hated black bitch grasping my neck against the wall, her hands coming across my exposed chest, teaching me the lesson I never got.