Date: Wed, 19 Apr 2017 17:30:35 -0400 From: C. Lakewood Subject: Sisters Sisters (BlkF/WF, D/s, BD, Spanking, Humiliation, Consensual) by C. Lakewood 2008 ============================================================================ I sighed and looked at the clock. Despite the failing light, I could read the time clearly: 9:17. I sighed again. If I was going to do it tonight, finally, I'd better go. At last, coming to a decision, I stood up and downed my drink. Ugh! Rye and water, no ice. Sleazy characters in cheap fiction always used to drink rye whiskey. I moved to the front door, pausing only momentarily before the hall mirror. I looked okay, I guess--youthful, especially in the gathering gloom. Loose blonde hair, no makeup (except for a bit of pink lipstick), a pair of tiny gold studs in my ears, Bryn Mawr t-shirt, light cotton jacket with a sorority pin on the lapel, faded jeans, cheap sandals, and, underneath, I was braless. I wiggled my rump and felt the thong panties cupping my freshly shaved pussy. (Or was it a "cunt," if it was shaved?) In any case, it all added up to "college co-ed" -- certainly not to "feminist attorney." I stuffed a wad of cash and a foolproof fake ID into my pocket and picked up the little ring with my house key and the key to my second car, a nondescript Ford. That was all. It would have to do. I left the house and drove into the city. Despite the car's AC, I was beginning to sweat. As inevitable as this seemed, I was still shaky. On the far West Side, in amongst boarded-up shops and ancient brick streets, was a seedy bar, The Bazouki. I knew that, actually, only the cellar and half the ground floor was the bar. The rest of the nondescript three-story building was a whorehouse. It wasn't really legal, but the city tolerated it and a few others as long as they kept the girls clean and none of the customers complained. She worked here, I knew. I had seen her months ago in court. She wouldn' t recognize me now--I had been in the back row, waiting on another case, and looking very lawyerly in horn rims and power suit. But I'd known in an instant that tonight would eventually come, that she would be the one. Her working name was Shakrah. Officially, she was 22, and, according to her rap sheet, 5'4" and 135 pounds. (Seven years younger than me, 3" shorter, 5 pounds heavier, and black.) I parked in back of the place and sat for a while, trying to compose myself and only partially succeeding. At last, I bestirred myself, locked up the car, and trudged over to the long flight of back steps. My panties were already wet. I paused at the top of the stairs, took a deep breath, and went in. I entered into a sort of lounge area, filled with obsolete furniture. Two black men were sitting there, and half a dozen women--white, black, and Latina--were circulating; all of them looked at me curiously. An older woman, with a tousled mop of bright red hair, approached me. "You lookin' for a job or a date, honey?" "A-a date," I murmured. "Shakrah?" "She'll be a few minutes. Anybody else do?" I shook my head and took a seat that was unobtrusive, but from which I could watch the stairs. The two men kept giving me sidelong glances, but the whores' curiosity died quickly when they learned I was a customer, not competition. Their lives were shit, but simple, uncomplicated shit. Then I saw her, stalking down the stairs, her chocolate skin loosely wrapped in a short, tiger-striped robe. Shakrah. The whore who was going to help me pay back my old debt. She sauntered over to the redhaired woman, and they spoke briefly. Then the woman jerked her thumb in my direction. Shakrah looked me over and smiled, wolfishly. She walked--no, stalked--over to me and gazed arrogantly down at me. Belatedly, I scrambled to my feet like some awkward adolescent. "So...ya wanna spen' some time with Shakrah, huh? I nodded. "Y-yes, unh...ma'am...." Her smile broadened. If she'd been in any doubt at all about our relative status tonight, that word made things crystal clear. As I followed her up the stairs, I had an urge to back out. Couldn't I just go home now, return to my masturbation fantasies? And then I looked at Shakrah's rolling buttocks inside her thin, gaudy wrap, and I knew I had to go the distance. She did look so much like Celia.... So I stifled that brief voice of reason. The room was moderately tacky, with faded wall paper, a large brass bed, thrift shop quality nightstand and wardrobe, a well-used oak pressed-back chair that could have been nice if restored, a worn, reproduction red Bokhara on the floor, and a framed print of "September Morn" on the wall. There was a bathroom adjoining. She sat down on the bed and eyed me. "Ya wanna quickie or sumfin' longer? " "Well, it may take some time...." "Okay. Three hunnerd up fron'. An' wha's yer name?" "L-lisabeth," I said, as I rummaged in my pocket. I handed over the money, thinking that it was expensive, but worth it, if it exorcized my demons. "So. Whatcha wan', Lizzie?" "Well, ma'am, it's about this black girl I knew in college. Her name was Celia Hayes, and she was an `oreo,' a yuppy wannabe. She was in school on some sort of affirmative action scholarship, and that was okay. But she also wanted to join our sorority, the most exclusive on campus, and the administration forced us to take her.... But we wouldn't have to keep her, if she quit voluntarily. S-s-so...three of us--Jennifer, Melanie, and me--were, well, appointed to see to it that she DID quit--and make it look like nothing more than normal pledge training. Oh, god! Every day, we found some rule or other that she'd broken, and we paddled her for it. We named her `Head' Mistress and compelled her to scrub out all the toilets twice a day. We poured a glass of pee into her bed one day and then ` discovered' that she was `obviously' a bed-wetter--so she had to wear a disposable diaper and plastic panties everywhere. (And we didn't change the diaper more than two or three times every 24 hours.) She had to shower in cold water, wear micro-minis, eat leftovers out of a dog dish...and demonstrate masturbation techniques every evening. I-I was 20 a-and should have known better, I guess, but I thought I was protecting our sorority.... And Celia just took it all...until I came up with the idea of making her `Pledge Health Inspector,' and every morning she had to take the temperature of each of her fellow pledges--rectally, using her forefinger as the thermometer...." A thoughtful look spread across Shakrah's face. Her mental wheels were in motion. "So wha' then?" "She...um...she just quit...de-pledged...transferred to another school...without making a fuss. I don't know what happened to her after that." I found it difficult to swallow. "But, a few weeks later," I added, "somebody spray-painted across the front of our sorority house, `TRI-O = RACIST BITCHES.'" "Tha's all? Nobody never get no REAL pay-back? Nobody never teach ya snotty cunts a lesson...up close an' pers'nal?" "N-no, ma'am...." "An' so?" I wilted under her gaze and lowered my eyes. "I...well, I have a-a s-s-sort of fantasy...." "Yeah?" "That we...I...um...DO get p-paid back for what happened...." She nodded. "Strip." She seemed so powerful, and I felt so weak, so helpless.... And so hot! My nipples were stiffly erect, and my pussy--my "cunt"--already wet, was rapidly getting wetter. My throbbing clit felt enormous. I glanced at her, breathless, but her scowl told me not to dawdle. I shrugged off my jacket, naively looked about for some place to hang it, but then just let it drop to the floor. I skinned out of the t-shirt and dropped that, too. Jeans and panties quickly followed. She regarded my pale, smallish breasts--my "tits"--and their long, dark nipples with a superior smirk. For the first time in my life I was standing naked and trembling before a black woman in authority. "Put yer hands on top of yer head. An' spread yer legs. Now, looka me, an' axe me real polite t'do whatcha want me t'do." "I...I...." "An' the longer I has t'wait, the harder it'll be." (Well, I DID want it to be hard...but, then, not TOO hard....) "Please...please, ma'am, will you...would you...please punish me?" She stood up and stepped in front of me. Her wrap sagged open, and I could see her breasts, which were much bigger than mine. "Well I s'pose I could start on yer tits, Lizzie, yer sweet li'l white puppies. Think you deserve to get yer titties smacked aroun' some?" "Yes, ma'am. I deserve it, because...b-because I'm a racist bitch." Nodding, she began slapping my...my tits, left-right, left-right, left-right. And it really hurt, too. Then she paused and looked at me expectantly. "More?" "Yes, please, ma'am!" Slap! Slap! "Is THIS somma wha' ya deserves fer dissin' a sister?" I nodded. "I axed ya a question. Ya answer me ou' loud!" "Yes, ma'am. I'm s-sorry. Yes, it's what I deserve...." Slap! Slap! (Oh, god! Celia.... Please! I'll be a good girl, I promise!) Slap! Slap! Eventually, I guess she got bored, because she sat back down and just watched me weep. I so wanted to rub my poor reddened titties, but I didn't dare break position without permission. I could feel myself getting wetter and wetter between the legs. "Learn yer lesson yet?" "N-no, ma'am...." "Then bend over an' grab yer ankles." She moved up behind me. "Ya had lotsa fun, bein' mean to that po' li'l black gal. Was a real turn-on, hunh?" "Yes, ma'am...." Smack! She hit me across my upturned ass with a strap or belt. I squealed. "Hush! Ya gotta lot more comin'." Smack! Smack! I lost track of the number of times she spanked me with that black strap, but, when she finally stopped, she was sweating heavily...and my ass was burning. I was rather proud of myself that I hadn't broken position. When she let me up, I saw that, at some point, she'd discarded her wrap and was now naked, too. "Okay, now ya been tenderized some...." She sat back down and patted her naked thighs. "Getcher white ass up here, bitch!" I gingerly draped myself across her lap, wriggling over her warm, pungent, sweat-slick skin. "Alla ya white cunts're jes' alike.... Think yer shit don' stink! Think ya better'n any nigger!" Spank! She swatted me with her bare hand. "Yes, ma'am. I'm sorry...." (She was right. I did think that back then. As a matter of fact, I STILL thought so. So why was I there, begging a black whore to abuse me? I knew I was intellectually and socially and economically superior to Shakrah (and to Celia)...but I also knew that I was inferior to her--indeed to most black girls--physically and sexually. And that was what counted right then, there in that squalid little room. But did I dare admit it to her, in so many words?) Spank! Spank! Spank! Spank! (A familiar fantasy rose up to engulf me: Jennifer, Melanie, and I were pledging a sorority in which all the other girls were black. And we were deemed so inferior that we were going to have to be permanent pledges, subordinate to everyone...spanked and fingered and tormented at will by our betters....) Spank! Spank! Spank! Spank! Then Shakrah's voice shook me out of my day-dream. "Get on yer knees, bitch!" she rasped. I rolled sluggishly off her lap and struggled into a kneeling position. I could smell my cunt, and I'm sure she could, too. I really needed to cum. As if she read my mind, she said, "Need t'cum, bitch?" I nodded. "Need it BAD?" "Yes, ma'am. Please let me cum." (Oh, god! Why had I said that? If she could give me permission to cum, she could also withhold that permission....) "Wee-ell, may-be," she drawled. Taking a handful of my hair, she pulled my face toward her hairless, dripping cunt, with its dark labia and bright pink insides. "Ya wanna suck ma jes'-fucked cunt an' lick ma sweaty black asshole?" "Yes, ma'am," I whimpered. "Please." "So. Ya wanna go down on a black cunt.... Ya wanna be a black whore's bitch." "Yesssssss. Please! Please, ma'am, I want to be...to be your b-bitch." (How humiliating! And what a turn-on! My mouth was actually watering.) Her musky smell closed in on me. And the taste...disgusting and exciting. I kissed her clit and then began licking and sucking her well-used cunt and swallowing the warm slime I lapped up. She wrapped her legs around my head to hold me close and just lay back and let me tongue-fuck her. It wasn't long before she started moaning...and then, all of a sudden, she went rigid and leg-scissored me even tighter for a few minutes, before gradually relaxing. She unclasped her legs and sat up slowly. God help me, I licked my lips. Tiredly, she murmured, "Tha's a good li'l bitch.... Okay...ya earned yerse'f a treat.... I guess I'll letcha hump ma leg." That in itself was almost enough to make me cum. Almost. Eagerly, I scrambled up, straddled her shin, and shamelessly began frictioning my bald, drooling cunt against her smooth black flesh. I felt like a bitch in heat, a black whore's bitch. Her leg was awash in my juices as I slid myself up and down, up and down, humping away until--at last--I had an orgasm that was so intense that I must have blacked out momentarily. But, once again, Shakrah's voice awakened me. "Stupid cunt! Ya gotcher goo all over ma leg. Well, ya jes' gonna hafta lick it clean." So I licked it clean while she smirked down at me. My "goo" tasted salty, of course, but overall fairly bland, and even a little sweet--certainly much different than the rank, mixed juices I'd sucked from her cunt. After I finished, I sat back on my heels like a good dog and waited for her next command. I didn't have to wait long. "I'm thirsty, girl." She handed me a dollar. "Go get me a Coke--there' s a machine jes' down the hall. It don' take bills, though. Ya'll hafta go on downstairs an' axe the red-haired boss lady fer change." I nodded and reached for my clothes.... "Hunh-unh! Ya go fetch jes' like ya are--butt-naked." (Oh, god! Naked? With those people there? Whores and pimps and johns looking me over, grinning, feeling superior to the prissy white sorority bitch, who reeked of Shakrah's crotch, showing off her sore red tits and ass and cunt for their amusement....) Trembling, I obeyed. It was excruciating, even worse than I'd imagined it would be...the leers and smarmy remarks.... And the worst part of all was that I found it so exciting. When I got back with her Coke, Shakrah lounged on the bed and drank it slowly, while she watched me do an a cappella go-go dance. Afterwards, I was really dying of thirst, so she took me into the bathroom and "let" me drink out of the toilet. My belly full of toilet water, I spent a few more hours serving her and several other whores she called in from time to time. I licked cunts and feet and assholes; I got spanked three more times; they finger-fucked me to I-don't-know-how-many orgasms. In the end, both Shakrah and I were exhausted. Though not through. "Tell me, bitch, jes' how long did...Celia Hayes?...put up with that shit? " "Oh...um...almost three months...." "Almos' three months! Well, ya sure ain't gonna pay for tha' with jes' one night." "No, ma'am.... I-I guess not." "Then be back here Friday. Unnerstan'?" "Y-yes, ma'am." (I suppose I did deserve it.) "An' ya don' get t'cum `til then. Hear?" "Yes, ma'am." (Could I possibly wait that long?) "Gotta cell phone?" "Um...ye-es, ma'am." She tossed me a pen and piece of paper. "Gimme the number." I wrote down a number...THE number...MY number! I was so addled, I just couldn't think of a fake number.... And then it was time to go. I dressed quietly and self-consciously, offering her my panties as a sort of souvenir...or love-gift. She accepted, with a smug grin. She followed me top the stairs and stood at the top while I made my way to the exit, feeling very conspicuous. At the last moment, she called out. "An' don' forget our date on Friday, girl. Hear?" I looked at the floor. "Yes, ma'am," I murmured. The other whores giggled. ********************************** At home later, I went to bed without showering or brushing my teeth. My tits and ass ached, my cunt was sore, and my mouth tasted foul. But there wa s a smile on my face as I drifted off, satisfied at last...for a while, at least. At least until Friday. ======================================================================= More great stories at http://groups.yahoo.com/group/All-Stories-BnD