The Institute SeXStoRY

It was a typical, overcast, bitterly cold, early February, Saturday afternoon. I really was not sure why I was downtown at the Art Institute other than a lack of anything better to do. With the Super Bowl over, and starring at the prospect of having to watch mid season basketball, bowling, or, lord forbid, having to do some of the chores around my house I'd been putting off, I chose to get out and not only stretch my legs, but my brain as well. Because the Institute runs strictly on private donations,and I am a regular, as well as large, donor during their various fund drives throughout the year, my charitable contributions net me a "reward, " of gratis admission anytime I so desire. As this particular weekend, the traveling display "Petra,a City of Stone," was in town. As a historian by education, that more than piqued my interest, so off I went. The Institute was a lot more crowded than I was expecting. Obviously I wasn't the only one who had the same idea of getting out of the house today. As I deal with the public on a daily basis in my career, during my down time, I tend to shy away from crowds precisely for that reason. The place was a proverbial zoo. There were men and women, singles and couples as well as parents with c***dren in strollers, which of course made it all the more a task to navigate my around. It took a bit of effort on my part, but I finally managed to work my way into the "Petra," exhibit area. It was then that I saw her, my heart skipping a beat as I did so. She was African American, about five foot ten, fifty five, perhaps sixty. But since to me, most African American women don't tend to show their real age, I couldn't be certain. Her hair was jet black, without a trace of gray at all, making it even more difficult to be definitive. She was carrying over her right shoulder a heavy looking, black leather, designer hand bag, as well as a notepad and several sheaf's of paper in her left arm as she walked. I noticed immediately her ensemble which she had chosen to wear out today, and it was as striking as she was to say the least. I am sure that anyone else who caught a glimpse of her would think the same. She had on a pair of black leather, straight leg pants, a multi-print blouse, and over that, a tailored, black leather blazer. She was wearing a pair of sharp, pointy toed, black high-heeled ankle boots. The heels were about three and a half inches, and they had those ultra thin, stiletto heels that looked razor sharp and appeared to be barely there. On the tile floor of the Institute, her heels made a "Click,click, click, ” sound as she walked among the displays. Not thinking too much more about the exhibit, oblivious to everyone and everything else around me, I began to follow along behind her, keep my distance discrete as I did not want to give her the impression that I might be some "perv," who was stalking her. Also, as I was not sure if she was open to the idea of a submissively inclined, Caucasian man with a preference for confident African American women approaching her. Unfortuantely, there are black women who do not like men. That also made me more cautious than I might otherwise have been. But the butterflies in my stomach, the sweaty palms I was getting, the short, deep breaths I was taking, this Ebony Goddess already had a grip on my psyche. I didn't even know her but I found her irresistible even though I hadn’t spoken a word to her – not yet anyway. I continued to follow her for about another five minutes when someone walking towards her accidentally brushed up against her causing her to drop the sheaf of papers she was carrying along with the legal pad she was taking notes on. Her black leather handbag had fallen down around her arm too. I was about 10 feet away when I saw this happen and as she re-adjusted her handbag and stooped down – the leatherpants she wore hugged every curve of her bottom as well as her legs making an erotic site as she did this. I could tell she was more than upset as I hear her say, “Damnit, I so wish I had someone to carry my things for me." The sound of her voice, the tone and attitude was the icing on the cake as far as I was concerned. I had to meet this black Goddess, or die trying. Sensing the opportunity, I walked over, knelt down beside her and began to reach for some of her papers. I was trembling as I leaned closer to her, and while keeping my eyes submissively downcast, I softly said, "Excuse me, but my name is Geoffrey and I, I, I, would love to be the one to be allowed to carry your things for you." As I picked up more of the papers she'd dropped, she picked up her legal pad and the other papers, she stood up, continuing to look at me. I think she was surprised I'd heard hereven say that she wanted to have someone carry her things, but at this point, I didn't care. I then stood up, facing her, my eyes still downcast as she extended her hand, introducing herself. "Joanna, Joanna Perris," she said, almost looking right through me. She turned her head sideways, her regalness even more apparent. "Well, Geoffrey, even though I didn't think anyone heard me, you have the job. Now, take these things from me and carry them." She said this in such as way so that anyone within earshot could hear her. Doing exactly as she said, I accompanied her as she finished taking in the rest of the exhibit, making small talk with her, but not really having her attention as she was taking copious notes. About 30 minutes later, we found ourselves out of the exhibit area and near a small snack bar/lounge area. Joanna moved to a small table set next to a wall that had one seat. "It's too bad there isn't another chair for you to sit in, but I will allow you to sit with me. Just use the small ledge that's built into the wall here," she said. I gratefully thanked her, commenting that I would be more than comfortable using the ledge. She moved her chair so it was closer to me as she sat down. After she made herself comfortable, positioning herself so that I could look upon her in all her glory, Joanna looked deeply into my eyes. "Have you ever known or truly been around a black woman before, Geoffrey?" "No, I have to confess that I have not, " I said, but quickly added, "I have always been fascinated by black women. From their attitude and persona, to their ostentatious style and sense of grooming in terms of make up, hair, fragrences, jewelry and the like. I truly have been fascinated by any and everything about black women." Joanna smiled as I said these things. "Are you aware of the natural assertiveness that black women have? Their controlling and domineering nature as it has sometimes been called? And how some people, men in particular find that off putting?" Looking into my eyes, deeper, Joanna added, "But not all men find that a turn off. In fact, some men, particularly white men, intentionally seek out black women precisely because of that fact. They are drawn to us because we are both nurturing and demanding, as well as dominant and loving. Generous but also very hard to please. I think perhaps you are one of those men, Geoffrey. To tell you the truth, we black women enjoy having those kind of men around. It is very much of a turn on having a man around who wants to be controlled, dominated and who apreciates us because we are so bossy and assertive, and wants that kind of woman in their life." As I sat there, becoming even more enraptured, I marveled in my mind how Joanna knew even at this early juncture of my intense interest not only in black women, but in black who might be of a dominant persuasion. But she obviously knew. She looked at me yet again, reveling in the obvious power she had over me as she told me to go the snack bar and fetch her something to drink, green tea if they had it, black tea if they did not. She told me I was also to order somethingfor myself as well, but nothing more than hot water with a lemon slice. Not hesitating, I jumped up, returning about ten minuteslater with her green tea - the had it, as well as my hot lemon water. As I sat back down on the ledge and faced her, Joanna took a deep sip of her tea, again fixing her gaze on me. I honestly thought for a moment she would laugh in my face, and tell me to get lost. However, I began to realize after what she had said to me, coupled with my attempt at being submissive and compliant to her, to make her happy, her interest in me was obvious. Joanna leaned back in her chair, putting her feet out. "Do you like my boots, Geoffrey?" I nodded affirmatively."Well, I like them too, but they are playing hell with my feet.” She then commanded me to remove them for her so she could relax her feet as we sat. After I had carefully unzipped each boot and removed them from her feet – the smell of the polished leather was absolutely intoxicating – I was treated to the visual spectacle of her red polished toes and black sheer hosiery which covered her perfect feet.“What else do you do, Geoffrey," she asked, "I mean besides follow black women around in public, offering to carry their belongings for them? Do you massage feet?Are you actually any good at giving a woman a foot massage?" I jumped at this again golden opportunity and began to slowly and deeply massage her soft & sexy stocking covered feet. I thought I had died and gone to heaven. Joanna held me in thrall like this for the next hour and a half. I continued to massage her stockinged feet, and also brought her several more cups of green tea and a small salad to eat as well. Anyone else who walked by and observed us must've gotten a real eye full as they saw this breathtakingly beautiful, mature black woman dressed in leather, deliberately wrapping a white man around her polished red fingers and bossing him around like some cadet in a military academy. I was in heaven, so heady with desire, lust and a million other emotions, so enthralled by this strong willed black woman that I really could’ve caredless who saw me/us. I then looked deeply into Joanna's brown eyes and bared my soul to her. I told her in great, and graphic detail of my love for black women like herself. Of my love for strong willed and domineering black women. Of my love for black women who wore high heeled shoes and boots. Of my love for black women who realized their inherent superiority and destiny to rule over white men. Of my love for black women who enjoyed teasing and denying the men in their lives, lording their sex, and sexuality over them. I also told her how much I desired, needed actually, more than anything, to be totally dominated by, and to be submissive to, a superior black woman just like herself. Joanna Perris studied me for a long, silent moment, a half smile on her face as she nodded. "I am very interested in finding out what use you mightbe to me, Geoffrey." Joanna then told me we would meet tomorrow night for a drink to "discuss, " the siutation, and my usefuleness to her, further. That next night was just the beginning. In the five months since we met again that next night and talked, like prey, I have totally become ensnared in the dominant web of this magnificent black Goddess. Under the control of Joanna Perris I have been transformed into what I was meant to become. Her her total and complete supplicant. Joanna lives half an hour away from my home and I am required to clean her house 2-3 times each week. I vacuum, do her dishes, take out her trash, dust and even do windows. I prepare dinner for her when she so orders, do her laundry – all of her panties, bras and hosiery are done by hand by me, as well as polish her many pairs of high heeled shoes and boots – a chore I love more than anything. I also act at times as her chauffeur, driving her on shopping trips, and her other errands and appointments as well. When I drive her shopping, she will sometimes allow me to accompany her into the stores, carrying her bags for her. Joanna is not at all shy about ordering me around in front of the store clerks or calling me names in front of them. I revel in that. I even was commanded to take a class so I now do her weekly manicures, and pedicures, for her. Over the past summer, Joanna took me along to a lake side public beach where she had me wash her perfect, bare feet clean with bottled water and then paint her toenails in front of all the other beach goers. I also wash and clean the interior and exterior of her Lexus each Sunday morning as well. Joanna will reward my efforts in the most exquisite ways. If I have been proficient in pleasing her, she will allow me to lick and kiss her bare, stockinged, or high heeled feet, or kiss and adore her most beautiful, perfect bottom. Another reward, when she does not wish me to cook for her, Joanna will place a carry out order from one of her favorite restaurants, and after bringing it to her, as she sits and dines, I will happily lick her bare feet, and suck on her polished, ebony toes. On those rare occasions when I have done an extra good job at a particular task or chore, Joanna will allow me the reward of satisfying her most sacred, royal temple with my always hungry for her mouth, lips and tongue. I am only allowed my own pleasures when Joanna is feeling generous. For example, I am only allowed to masturbate on rare occasions and it is always & only in front of her. There is no tolerance for disobedience as she reminds me she can, and would, replace me with another admirer if I ever were to be disobedient to her commands. Joanna never allows me the privilege of having sex with her. That is reserved for her lover. A younger, forty something white man with a large and thick penis. A real man as she calls him. So instead, what she will do is use a black leather harness that she had specially made, and that buckles tightly around and over my head. The harness holds a dildo that sticks straight up from my face that she then mounts as she grinds her perfect bottom on my face. "So close, and yet so far," she say whenever she does this. That only makes me even more submissive and obedient to Joanna if that is possible.I have truly found my proper place and role in life.I have never been more content or fulfilled. I am Joanna Perris' white ass kisser and licker. I am her foot slave, her obedient houseboy, her submissive puppy who is always eager & ready to please her whenever she desires it. I am lovingly abused, berated, spanked, reminded of my true lot in life and constantly dominated. I love and adore Joanna Perris more than anything, and anyone else,in this world. She truly is my divine black Goddess, my superior Ebony Empress who has truly shown me where I belong. I love the position I have in her life. As one might imagine, in light of all this, my donations to the Institute have been even more consistent, and ever more generous.