Miss Susan’s exams were now upon us and I kept out of her way, while she revised before each one, just doing the housework and laundry, making sure she was comfortable. In the office, I was now completely accustomed to finding Miss Chantelle seated at my desk when I arrived. I now had to kneel before the desk and beg to be allowed to greet her properly, at which she rounded the desk, hiked her skirt and bent over to expose her magnificent arse. I lowered her knickers so that I could part the cheeks and properly French kiss her arsehole.When she was satisfied with my worship, I had to pull her knickers back up and her skirt down and then go to fetch her morning coffee.
One morning, one of the young secretaries, Janice, remarked on the fact that I seemed to be getting the coffees every day. When I replied that I did not think it fair to ask Chantelle to do everything, she giggled and said she wished her boss was like that.
On Friday, Miss Susan announced that she wanted the weekend to herself and that I would be staying with Miss Chantelle and that she had packed my clothes for the weekend. At the end of the day, Miss Chantelle and I made our way to the pub for the usual Friday drink. The other PAs and secretaries were already there and Miss Chantelle took a seat as I made my way to the bar to buy the usual round of drinks. As I took my seat next to Miss Chantelle, Janice looked over at Miss Chantelle and winked saying that it must be nice to have such an obedient boss. Everyone laughed and I’m sure I blushed as Miss Chantelle said, “Yes, she’s such a good girl!”
I had strict instructions from Miss Chantelle to let her leave first and then follow ten minutes later, so I was staying longer than my usual one drink and home. When I offered to get another round of drinks, there were several comments about me staying on, with Janice asking if I wouldn’t get into trouble for staying out. I know I blushed as I tried to make a throwaway comment about having a late pass. After a couple more drinks, Miss Chantelle announced that she had to leave and I said that I would also need to leave soon. As I said my farewells, Janice winked at me, saying that she hoped I wouldn’t be in trouble when I got home.
Arriving at Miss Chantelle’s, she let me in and instructed me to go to the bedroom, strip naked and hang my clothes up neatly. She followed me in and watched me as she undressed herself. Once finished, I knelt and waited, watching the statuesque black beauty. She smiled as she saw me looking, turning without a word, putting her hands on the bed and pushing her arse out towards me. For the second time that day, my face was between her cheeks. Seeing as it was late in the day, there was a distinct aroma; not that I minded that!
When she was satisfied with my efforts, she straightened up and turned to face me, saying, “You are my white bitch for the weekend, Joanna and you had better keep your black goddess happy or you will be severely punished.”
Pointing at a bathtowel in the corner of the room, she ordered me to lie on my back. Once I was in position, she stood astride my face, telling me to open wide. Doing as I was told, I admired the pink folds, surrounded by the luxurious black bush, having to blink the pee out of my eyes as she sprayed my face and hair as I did my best to swallow it all. Knowing what was required of me when she had finished, I asked for permission to lick her clean, which I did assiduously.
She had me kneel as she went to the dressing table, returning with her riding crop, collar and leash, lube and a large black butt plug with an attached tail. Putting the collar on me, she had me hold the leash in my mouth while she lubed the plug and eased it into my arse, the tail high in the air.
“My white bitch needed a tail and you had better learn how to wag it properly to show me how happy you are.”
On a short leash at her side, encouraged by light swats to my arse with the crop, I was learning how to sway my hips to wag my tail. Something else I was discovering was that skilful use of a riding crop does not need heavy blows to bring severe discomfort. In fact, I was rather glad that I was swaying my hips, as I felt that I would have had to do that to try and relieve the pain and Miss Chantelle would certainly have punished me severely for that.
After a couple of hours of bitch training, I was rewarded by being allowed to worship my black goddess; feet legs and then the privilege of her magnificent breasts and nipples. Just suckling on her nipples would get her moaning and I loved doing it. When she was really ready, I was directed to her arse and finally nirvana. My face in her bush, my lips and tongue working on her lips and clit, smelling and tasting her wonderful nectar until she finally climaxed, gushing all over my face. I was granted the privilege of bringing myself to orgasm while she watched before we fell asleep in each other’s arms.
The following morning, I prepared and served breakfast and did the washing up and Miss Chantelle advised me that we were going shopping as she needed some new clothes. She attached the bells to my clit ring on a short chain, giving me a micro mini skirt and tight halter neck top to wear, along with four-inch heels. Checking in the mirror, the skirt only just covered my arse cheeks and the bells were just about visible below the hem and my nipples and nipple rings were clearly outlined against the tight top. Miss Chantelle wore a pretty blouse and tight jeans that displayed her buttocks to perfection. Before we left she gave me strict instructions to follow half a step behind her unless she said otherwise.
As she shopped, I was given the clothes she wanted to try on to carry for her; passing them to her as she tried them on and fetching a different size if she needed it. At the first store, I was sure that she deliberately chose to go to the youngest looking cashier, who I reckoned was probably a schoolgirl doing her Saturday job. I could see her struggling not to giggle as Miss Chantelle stood to one side to allow me to put her purchases down. After she had packaged everything, I paid with my card and, knowing that Miss Chantelle was a stickler for politeness, made sure to say, “Thank you, Miss.”
She did giggle at that as I followed Miss Chantelle out.
The same process took place at the other shops we visited, with one particularly excruciating episode; for me, anyway. Miss Chantelle paused on the way to the cash desk and when she resumed, I realised why she had paused. The cashier again looked like a schoolgirl on her Saturday job, but this time she was black. She looked at us and grinned, ignoring me as I placed the purchases down and speaking to Miss Chantelle, “It must be nice to have a white servant to carry your shopping.”
Miss Chantelle laughed, saying, “Yes, she’s a good girl most of the time and really does know her place, if you know what I mean!”
The girl looked me over, before addressing Miss Chantelle again, “I see what you mean; I wish I could be so lucky!”
As I handed my credit card to her, Miss Chantelle leaned over and handed her a card of her own, saying, “My phone number.” I saw her wink at the girl as she slapped my arse, saying, “Come along, Joanna.”
On the way back to Miss Chantelle’s, we stopped at a restaurant for lunch, where I was certainly getting raised eyebrows. When we were shown to our table, I pulled out Miss Chantelle’s chair for her to sit, which earned me a surprised look from the waitress. As she went to give us menus, Miss Chantelle spoke up, saying that we only needed one as she would be ordering for me. Once again, I wondered why I put up with being treated this way, coming back to the realisation that I wasn’t putting up with it; I liked it and needed it. I found it exhilarating to be dressed like a slut, obviously at the beck and call of a much younger lady and, to be frank, especially a black lady. When we finished, I followed Miss Chantelle out of the restaurant, carrying her packages, remaining the obligatory half step behind until we reached her apartment.
Back at the apartment, I went to strip naked, hanging up my skirt and top, before unpacking Miss Chantelle’s new clothes and hanging them up as well. Miss Chantelle had me sit in her lap as we spent the afternoon kissing and cuddling. As I went to start preparing the evening meal, I heard Miss Chantelle’s phone and thought nothing of it. A couple of minutes later, she called me back through, telling me to make enough for three as we would have company.
With the meal preparation well under way, the buzzer went and Miss Chantelle told me to answer, saying that we were expecting Aaliyah and to let her in. It was indeed Aaliyah and as I pressed the button to open the outer door, I realised that she was probably the black shop assistant. As I let her into the apartment itself, I saw that I was correct.
“Please come in, Miss Aaliyah, Miss Chantelle is in the living room, if you would like to follow me through”.
Miss Chantelle motioned Miss Aaliyah to sit next to her on the settee and I asked what they would like to drink, suggesting a Chardonnay. Miss Aaliyah refused, saying she was only sixteen, but Miss Chantelle said she was with friends and one glass would be fine. Once I had served the wine, it was time to serve the meal. As we ate, the girls were chatting and ignoring me unless they needed anything. Miss Chantelle was explaining that I was a partner in a law firm and that she was my PA, how she had worked out that I had been caned and from there how she was now friends with Miss Susan, who trusted her to take care of me, which was why I was there for the weekend. I know I blushed when Miss Chantelle told her how I had to greet her every time we met.
“Ohhhh would she do that for me?” Miss Aaliyah asked.
Miss Chantelle replied, “Of course, if you told her to. Her own Mistress might be white, but Joanna knows that blacks are superior and to be obeyed.”
Miss Aaliyah turned to look at me, saying, “You will be greeting me properly later, but in the meantime, as I am staying here tonight, you can fetch more wine for me and Chantelle.”
“Of course, Miss Aaliyah,” I said, as I rose to fetch the wine, wondering about the confidence of a sixteen-year-old black girl. After pouring the wine, Miss Chantelle told me to clear up and then join them back in the living room with Miss Aaliyah swatting me on the arse and telling me to be quick about it.
When I returned, Miss Chantelle was sitting on the settee, while Miss Aaliyah was sitting on a straight-backed chair with a paddle in her hand. I had been set up.
“You were far too slow, Joanna,” said Miss Aaliyah. “Over my knee now.”
The spanking started slowly, her hand coming down on each cheek in turn, her hand coming down harder as my arse started to warm up and I started to wriggle. I could feel the tears start to prickle my eyes, when she paused and picked up the paddle. I yelped as I heard the sharp crack and the pain exploded. I lost count of the number of strokes, but I was sobbing by the time she finished.
She pushed me off her knee, pulled up her skirt and lowered her knickers. Turning to face the chair, she put her hands on it and pushed her arse out, saying, “Time to greet me properly, Joanna.”
Why is it that black women have such magnificent arses? While not of the proportions of Miss Chantelle’s, it was certainly spectacular and I did not hesitate in parting the cheeks and placing my face between them. I really felt in my element as I proceeded to worship her arsehole. When she was happy with my ministrations, she straightened and turned to Miss Chantelle, thanking her, before telling me to refill their wine.
With the girls once again sitting on the settee, I knelt between them as they talked. Miss Chantelle was explaining that some white women thrived on serving and being humiliated by black ladies and it was just a matter of working out which ones. She told Miss Aaliyah that when she had come to work for me, she had noticed me watching her arse. Then the day had come when I started wearing shorter skirts and she had noticed my stockings, followed by the way she had got me to confess to being caned by my partner. She said that Miss Susan had been delighted to have someone in the office to watch over me and that the rest was history!
Miss Chantelle looked at me, saying, “I think Aaliyah would like to meet my white bitch, in fact her white bitch, tonight. You know what’s needed.”
Crawling through to the bedroom, I lubed the butt plug with the tail and pushed it home, making sure the tail was properly straight up in the air. I put on my collar and clipped the leash to it. Holding the leash in my mouth, I crawled back to kneel in front of Miss Aaliyah, swaying my hips to wag the tail. Miss Chantelle handed her the riding crop, saying that I was trained to walk to heel, but that the occasional use of the crop was a good reminder. I have to say that she was a good learner and she really put me through my paces.
When she sat again, she told Miss Chantelle how much it had turned her on, at which Miss Chantelle said, “She’s YOUR white bitch tonight; feel free to use her anyway you want. Joanna enjoys it, don’t you?”
My reply was simple. “Yes, Miss Chantelle. Miss Aaliyah, I’m your white bitch and you are my black goddess.”
Miss Aaliyah stripped and once again presented me with her arse, telling me how she had enjoyed my greeting so much that she wanted more. I was more than happy to oblige and equally delighted to discover that I was to be the first to worship her pussy. She sat, legs wide apart as I crawled close, the delightful scent letting me know she was aroused and ready for me to serve. Her bush, while not as luxuriant as Miss Chantelle’s was delightful and I wasted no time in putting my face there, my tongue gently tracing her lips. I felt her hands in my hair as my tongue parted the lips, tasting her for the first time. I could hear her breathing change as I lapped, teasing her clit out from its hood and she gripped my hair tightly, pulling me in. Taking the hint, I took it between my lips and started sucking and very quickly she started bucking and grinding against my face, cumming hard and covering my face with her juices.
When she had calmed down and released my head, she thanked Miss Charlotte and patted my head, saying, “Good bitch. Let’s see your tail wagging!” Needless to say, I worked at swaying my hips furiously, saving myself from the crop.
Miss Aaliyah was in the spare room and I slept at her feet after I had worshipped her fully, giving her a further orgasm. In the morning, I was about to prepare breakfast for the girls when Miss Chantelle stopped me, saying, “You are taking Aaliyah out for breakfast; go and get dressed.” That would be the same micro mini skirt and halter top as the day before and, of course, the bells on my clit ring.
Following half a step behind Miss Aaliyah, we went to a West Indian cafe for breakfast. The appearance of a forty-five-year-old white woman dressed in a micro mini skirt and tight halter neck top with a sixteen-year-old black girl in a smart skirt and blouse certainly attracted some attention, especially when I pulled out her seat so she could sit. Somehow, I managed to tune out the attention as we ate. I felt particularly exposed as the only white person in the establishment, but had to admit to myself that I did find it extremely exciting. Once I had paid the bill, I followed Miss Aaliyah back to Miss Chantelle’s, where I had to French kiss both girls’ arses before being sent home, Miss Aaliyah pointedly saying that she hoped she would see me again soon.
Needless to say, Miss Susan wanted a full account of my weekend, laughing loud and long when I told her about Miss Aaliyah.