1. Becoming a Pet: An Innocent Start


    Date: 1/23/2015, Categories: Dark Fantasy, Domination/submission, Interracial, Lesbian, Written by women, Author: jasmine walker, Rating: 85.7, Source: sexstories.com

    appointment. My name is Rosie, Big Rosie." I blushed at her compliment. Her smile screamed mischief. Her outfit screamed confidence, considering her size. Her blouse, with two buttons undone, barely held in her massive breasts; it also showcased her immense cleavage which left little to the imagination, although my imagination was already playing tricks on my straightness. Her black skirt was as short as today's provocative teenagers wear,and her four-inch pumps were three inches higher than I ever wore. Pulling myself out of my distracted state, I responded, "Welcome Rosie, Dr. Statesmen is a bit behind. Please take a seat.” “I can wait,” she shrugged. Her eyes never left mine, “So what is your name?” “Jamie,” I responded, oddly nervous and anxious around this pretty black woman. “Nice to meet you, Jamie,” she politely greeted, taking my hand in hers. Unlike men who had kissed my hand in these moments, she put her other hand on top of mine and gently caressed my hand. The contrast between my white-as-snow skin and her black as night skin was oddly intoxicating. I stammered, distracted by the touch and attention I was receiving, “N-n-nice to meet you too, ma’am.” “Call me Rosie,” she smiled, still holding my hand. “Nice to meet you Rosie,” I replied. “Oh,” she purred, her voice so soft and sweet, “the pleasure is all mine.” I was completely embarrassed at the attention she was giving me, and her tone dripped with implication. An undeniable tingle began to stir down below as ...
    all those naughty stories of being a submissive suddenly popped in my head; I briefly day-dreamed of this full-figured black woman seducing me and making me her sub. I just as quickly came back to reality as she asked, gesturing to a picture of Dave on my desk, “Is that your boyfriend?” Suddenly wishing that picture wasn’t there, I admitted, “Yes.” Not letting go off my hand, but instead allowing her fingers to gently trace imaginary figures on my hand, “Pity, the way you were checking me out, I thought you might play on my team.” Suddenly self-conscious at how I was acting, I defended myself, “I was not checking you out.” “You sure?” she teased, leaning forward a bit so her generous cleavage was directly in my face. I stammered, desperately attempting to keep my dignity in this awkward conversation and yet not offend her, “W-w-well you are hard not to notice.” Her smile broadened, “If you got it, flaunt it, I say. You think my tits are amazing, you should see my cunt; it is to die for.” Her shocking word choice sent a chill down my spine. Trying to resist my growing desire, I asked, “Can I get you a coffee, juice or water?” Her response confused me, even though her seductive tone was clear as day, "Oh, don't you have anything else?" "Like what?" I asked, my naive innocence on full display. She grabbed a candy cane, usually there for our children patient, from my desk and unwrapped it slowly, her dark eyes boring into me. I felt she could see through me, could see my naughty ...
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