This work is copyright (c) 2004 by Phoenix Arrow. You may download and keep copies for your personal use as long as the author's byline and e-mail address and this paragraph remain on the copies. Please do not post this story to any web site without permission from the author. All other rights reserved. No alteration of the contents is permitted.
It was when I was 14 that I discovered something quite shocking about my mother. Something a young, black teenage girl like me never expects to find. Something so unexpected, and mind twisting that I could only drop my jaw and look on. I had been rummaging through the attic for almost half an hour looking for some of my mother's old dresses when I came across that yellowish envelope. It wasn't easy to find, and if I hadn't knocked over a few boxes by accident, her secret would still be safe today.
But today was the day her secret revealed itself, the day I curiously picked up the envelope and opened it. What would our lives have been like if I never had done so? Normal perhaps, very very normal. I'm glad I will never know a normal life :-)
As fate would have it, my fingers were soon pulling out the glossy pictures. Instantly my jaw dropped and my knees grew weak when I saw the first picture hidden inside it.
Let me explain to you a little about my family. My gorgeous mother is a youthful 38 year black woman. I had always admired her growing up and was happy she was my mom. Never any complaints outside of the normal ones all kids have with parents. My father, being in the military, was often away in Germany while we stayed behind in the States. I once asked my mom why we didn't join daddy at the army base, but she told me it wasn't a place to raise a young girl. That young girl was me, and by fourteen I was a young woman. Despite how my mother treated me, the budding breasts in the mirror said so.
But this story really isn't about me. Its about my mother, who some twenty years ago was totally nude for the camera. Her naked black body tied down to each corner of a bed post. Her afro covered head looking on with great interest and passion as some rounded object neared her open dark thighs. I stood looking at the first picture for five minutes, forgetting to breath several times. I was awed by both my mother's apparent naked beauty, and her un-motherly exposure. It took all five of those minutes before I noticed the hand actually holding the object near my mother's glistening sex. It was a white hand... with pink nail polish. Quickly I flipped to the next image and gasped.
My mother's mouth was open and her eyes shut closed as the stick like object very clearly wedged up against her wet crotch. I didn't know it at the time the significance of a glistening pussy, but there it was all moist and eager for the touch of the stick's rounded end. I still couldn't see much more of the woman holding the stick, except for a wire attached to the back of it. Obviously it was some sort of electrical device. Was my mother in pain or... pleasure?
Again I flipped to the next image. Finally there she was, the white woman's face. I'll never forget that face. One of total superiority and cockiness, looking on at my mother withering in her bonds as the long white plastic stick pressed harder against her vagina. I still couldn't tell if she was crying or moaning.
Why would she be moaning?
I looked back at the white woman, who was every bit the age my mother was in the picture. I guessed the both of them were in their late teens, but had no clue where or when this photo really was.
I flipped through the next few pictures, five in all. Each one of them similar yet more graphic than the other. One had her thrusting her hips up towards the stick with her mouth wide open. Another had the white girl sitting on her face, nude white thighs hugging the sides of her head still holding the stick firmly against mom's crotch while she pulled mom's stiff dark left nipple with her other hand. I couldn't tell what she was making my mother do under there. Certainly it must have been hard to breath?
A powerful mixture of confusion, anger, and excited filled me as I got to the last picture and started over again. It was like a mini movie, with many pauses.
Downstairs my mother was making a vanilla cake when I stood behind her and held the pictures in my hands. I will never forget the look on her face when she turned around and focused on what I held. Her eyes went wide and her hands shook with worry.
So that's the day I found out about her little white secret. About how my mother, a young beautiful black woman in college, fell to her knees for her arrogant white roommate. She sat me at the kitchen table and carefully explained to me life back when she was a student. Back when blacks were still considered second class citizens even after the civil rights era had passed. So she had grown up surrounded by whites who considered themselves 'better' than herself, and according to mom that kind of self appointed arrogance can be very attractive to some.
I sat there opened mouthed as she explained this shameful theory to me. That she and others willingly submitted to the power whites held over them because they were perversely 'attracted' to their forced supremacy.
I looked down at the pictures as she continued, explaining why she wound up nude on her own dorm room bed, tied down like an animal. Why her white roommate took great glee in teasing my mother's sex with the stick (which I later found out was a crude electric vibrator). And finally, why my mother submissively allowed it all to happen, while her roommate's boyfriend took those damming pictures.
"I was attracted to her power, her whiteness.", she looked at me ashamed. "She was so haughty and arrogant. To a black girl growing up in those times, I couldn't help but feel submissive to her. She quickly discovered my willingness and took advantage of it for the rest of my freshman year."
"So you liked it?" I said critically.
She didn't speak, only nodding her head and looking at her hands.
"Mom, what are you two doing in this last picture? Why is she sitting on your face?"
"I was..." Mother looked like she was going to throw up, "orally stimulating her?"
"What's that?" I asked naively.
"I was licking... her vagina..." I wish you could have seen my face, even more filled with total shock. I had never thought about two women being together in such a manner. I mean what girl would ever want to touch another's coochie with her tongue?
"So what happened to her and you after your freshman year?"
"She wanted me to move into an apartment with her and her boyfriend. So told me how wonderful it would be to spend all my free time serving her, maybe even earning my keep as her maid." I could see the look of contempt for the first time on her face. "I knew full well that I would quickly loose myself to her if I indeed moved in with her, so I said no! Thank goodness I did! I'd hate to think how my life would have ended up being her black maid".
My mom was by now visibly upset. Its clear she frowned on her younger days, regretting her submissiveness to a simple white college girl. While she was mentally cursing her early passiveness, I took one last look at the third photograph. That dark afro face, eyes closed and lower lip being bitten. The vibrator wedged right up against her hairy dark bush as her white roommate laughs supremely.
I don't know what my mother did with those photographs after our little talk. I handed them back to her willingly, figuring she needed to deal with them personally. I did refrain from asking her one question that has been eating away at me ever since; Why had she saved those pictures in the attic all those years to begin with?
It was two years later that I truly began to understand my mother's strange college compulsion. I know full well that blacks and whites are equal in every regard, but the willingness to submit to those who 'imagine' themselves more superior is not deniable. My mother did it for her arrogant white roommate, and my friend Ashley did it for me. Yes you heard me right. Ashley, a somewhat attractive white girl who is my personal little plaything.
You see unlike when my mother was growing up, where whites were superior, times have definitely changed. White people today wont admit it, but many of them totally get off being submissive to a strong willed black person.
I didn't realize it right away when I first met Ashley. She was a simple white girl who attended one of my high school classes. I didn't pay much attention to her occasional looks, or lack of breath when I passed her in the halls. That was until she finally asked if I wanted to study together with her for a test. The look in her eye should have told me something was up. She had such a submissive, lustful look about her. Naturally I said yes, seeing how I could always use a smart white gal in my back pocket.
I never had any intention of taking advantage of her. To me, she was simply a smart girl to get me ahead. The fact that she came to me made me no wiser. Two nights later I found myself knocking on her house door. I was let into the well kept middle class home and was introduced to Ashley's mother Samantha. I thought nothing of her, except that she was the mother of my new test buddy. She was tall, and eloquent. A certain no nonsense manner about her. A manner that my mother has lacked ever since I knew her.
For the next two hours that we studied in her room, Ashley was quite the weird girl. Bless her for trying so hard to get me to act on her submissive desires. At the drop of a hat she'd run along to fetch me a cola from the fridge, or offer me her desk to work at while she sat on the uncomfortable floor. I did my part however unnoticed by me. I treated her with mild indifference and rarely gave her a thanks. In a way, I sort of felt I was entitled.
"Go stand on your head with your shirt off!" <giggles> "Flash your pink butt through the window at the old couple on the side walk!" <giggles> "Lick my black feet you nasty white bitch!"
Oh don't get so turned on. You know very well a 16 year old black girl doesn't entertain such ideas in her head right off the bat. It took time for me to fully make use of my future white toy. Truth is at that moment I couldn't very well imagine how a 'superior' black girl should handle her 'inferior' whitey, and neither did she. She was just happy to be in my presence and I enjoyed her loyal attention. Those phrases you just heard would become common place in the not too distant future however. It was almost impossible not to discover how she'd do almost ANYTHING I told her.
Such a submissive twit!
I can remember the first time I brought her to my home. The look on my mother's face when she saw my new friend. At that point, I had not realized the potential in the relationship and so greeted her to mom as my equal.
"Mom this is Ashley from school. We're going to study upstairs ok?"
See that? Simple, innocent, non sexual. Just two teens getting together for the benefit of school work. Than why was there that curios look on my mom's face? One of almost regret and disappointment. What was she thinking? It wasn't until we were halfway upstairs that I realized with mixed feelings.
I very quickly reminded myself about the pictures from the attic. It had been two years since that discovery and I had almost forgotten all about them by now. The images of my mom tied to the bed, eagerly submitting sexually to a 'superior' white woman. I looked back at Ashley, who was carefully trailing me up the stairs. This was the first white girl I had ever invited to my house. Did mom possibly believe I was submitting myself to this white girl? That I would go upstairs, get tied down and gasp as some modern day vibrator thingy is crammed against my dark sex lips?
NOT ON YOUR ASS!
I turned around and continued leading my 'pet in the making' to my room. I wish I could say anger was what was swarming through my head, but it was revenge. A deep, justified sense of revenge, on my mother's behalf. Twenty years ago, mother felt she wasn't good enough to be in the same room as her white roommate, and so ended up on her knees because of it. Now years later, this white girl was in my home. For the first time I realized just how willing and submissive she had been. Here I had a shy white girl in my own home, with my mother's dignity and honor begging to be redeemed.
As I closed the door behind us, Ashley's days of being my 'equal' were over. In an instant I turned equal white Ashley into what my mother once was, a personal slut! MY personal white slut! I LOVE change!
"Ashley, you know what would be really great?", she looked up at me with a perky eager face from her books. "If you could message my aching feet?"
There was a brief sigh of excitement escaping from her lips, then in a flash she was at my feet, removing my shoes and socks, rubbing them like they deserved to be rubbed. Mmmm, personal slut indeed.
I don't know how many of you out there know this, but as anyone will tell you, the simple act of one girl willingly rubbing another girl's feet is an unspoken acceptance of submission. As she kept rubbing, I started talking about different things. Things like black girls at school, and white girls who shy away from them. Girls like Ashley! She just hung with wet lips at my every word, nodding in agreement with everything.
"Ashley, that foot rubbing is totally awesome. But you know what would really make them feel great?"
In another moment, I moaned in delight as those salivating wet lips sucked on my big toe. I just leaned back and enjoyed it. Totally thrilled that I was actually getting her to do it, and redeeming my mother's lost pride. Halfway through her second set of toes, I heard a sudden noise on the other side of my door. I looked down at the crack and saw my mother's shadow on the other side, undoubtingly listening to every word.
"Ashley, you like sucking my black toes don't you?"
"Hu uh!" She mumbled with my toes still lodged in her hungry worshiping mouth.
"Do you enjoy making me feel good?"
Again she mumbled her approval.