A Haitian Femdom Romance

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Haitian nerd meets black dominatrix at church.
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Samuelx
Samuelx
2,121 Followers

"Trevor Villeneuve, what the fuck are you looking at, pervert?" came a shrill feminine voice, interrupting me as I sat at a computer on a remote corner of the Learning Commons sector in the Carleton University library. There I was, discretely watching porn instead of working on my assignment for my Surveying And Graphics class. I'm in the civil engineering program, you see, and after hours of research, I needed a bit of relaxation...hence the discrete X-rated video viewing.

I immediately tried to close the video I was viewing, but for some reason, in my haste I clicked the wrong button, and instead of closing the X-rated video, I made it bigger. I was quite nervous and being caught by surprise didn't help. The person who caught me was definitely the last person on earth whom I wanted to see. It's funny how those things happen...

"Oh shit, Marguerite, it's not what it looks like," I replied sheepishly, and I fumbled with the keys for a moment before I managed to click out of the video. I'd been so engrossed in watching the video of African-American porn icon Kitten fucking the hell out of a black dude with a strap-on dildo that I'd apparently forgotten where I was, and got caught.

I'm really into BDSM, and as a young black man with a fondness for that stuff, I lament the fact that you seldom see black men and black women playing together in those steamy online videos. It's almost as if black men and black women in the world of BDSM are allergic to each other or something. Weird, eh?

That's why I was pleasantly surprised to see Kitten, one of my favorite porn stars, dominate the hell out of a dark-skinned brother in a super-cool scene where she fucked his ass with a strap-on, right in the swimming pool. I found the video completely by accident. I was looking for black pegging and black female domination stuff online, and voila! Damn, that scene turned me so much that I got a serious boner.

"Damn, Trevor, so that's what you're doing when you're supposed to be studying for midterms, huh?" Marguerite said, and she grabbed a chair and sat her big ass down. I looked at her, suddenly wishing I were a thousand miles away. Seriously, I'd rather be caught watching porn by library staff than this uptight bitch. Marguerite and I go to church together, and she's always moralizing and bossing people around. I hate it when she does that shit!

"Um, Marguerite, I was watching the video for, well, research purposes, for my human sexuality class," I said to Marguerite, who smirked. Yes, I managed to say this with a straight face. Marguerite looked at me, and I could tell that the tall, dark-skinned and voluptuous sister with the big ass and the seemingly permanent resting bitch face wasn't buying what I was selling. The question is, how do I get her annoying and nosy ass to get the hell away from me?

"So, you like watching black women dominating brothers, eh?" Marguerite asked, and she licked her lips and looked at me expectantly. For some reason, when Marguerite licked her lips while sitting so close to me that I could smell her damn perfume, my dick got hard. Fellas, I'm sure you've had erections in the most inappropriate places. Try getting one in front of the nosy chick who just caught you watching porn and intends to bust your balls about it. Yeah, feel my pain!

What's a brother to do when he's caught red-handed? I made a show of fixing the cuffs of my long-sleeved red silk shirt, and pulled my black leather jacket on my lap, effectively concealing the boner brought forth Marguerite's constant licking of her full lips with her rather long tongue. Seriously, this sister's tongue was way longer than any normal woman's tongue had any business being.

Why am I so neurotic and awkward when it comes to my sexuality? Too many reasons to list here, but I'll try to explain. Folks, I'm a twenty-year-old guy raised by uptight and religious Haitian immigrant parents. My father Faustin Villeneuve is the pastor of the church which Marguerite and I attend. And my mother Elaine Jean-Villeneuve works for the Canadian Christian Council. Yes, I'm a repressed lad. Please don't judge me.

"Yes, Marguerite, I like this stuff," I said, and I don't know who was more surprised by my words, Marguerite or myself. She looked at me, and then leaned back in her chair, an unreadable expression on her face. I shrugged, and looked at Marguerite without saying anything. Seriously, I don't mean to be rude or anything but what is this chick waiting for? Beat it, lady. That's what I wanted to say, but like the overly polite Haitian that I am, I kept my mouth shut.

Marguerite kept looking at me, something I found unnerving, but I kept my cool. I decided to act as though Miss Thing ( Marguerite's nickname among the members of our church ) wasn't there. I reopened my Microsoft Word document, which I hadn't typed anything into for the past twenty minutes or so. I had eighty percent of the assignment done already, but it was due on C.U. Learn, the school's website, in less than twenty four hours. Got to hustle, you know?

"Trevor, look at me when I'm talking to you," Marguerite said, and she laid her hand on mine, a bit forcefully, I might add. I rested my glasses on the bridge of my nose, and turned to look at her. Marguerite uncrossed her legs, and I found myself almost distracted by her thick, dark thighs. The black leather skirt Marguerite had on suited her body right, as did the black leather jacket and the bright red tank top. Hmm, for a church gal, Marguerite certainly dressed provocatively.

"Why are you dressed like that?" I asked Marguerite, and that's when she smiled, and a dangerous, almost seductive light crept into her brown eyes. Marguerite Mathieu, Carleton University student, humanitarian activist, supporter of Black Lives Matter, and church diva, always reminded me of Jill Scott, my favorite singer. Marguerite drew her chair closer to mine, and got all up in my personal space, as they say. I held my breath as Marguerite's face drew closer to mine.

"If you must know, Trevor, I came from a local munch for BDSM enthusiasts, the stuff you watch online while jerking your dick, I do it for real, I'm in the lifestyle," Marguerite said boldly, her eyes locked with mine. I sighed deeply, as I processed her revelations. Seriously, if lightning had struck me right then and there, I wouldn't have been more shocked.

"Good to know, Marguerite, are you a dominant, a submissive, or a switch?" I asked, and Marguerite grinned, seemingly pleased by my reaction. Marguerite drew closer to me, and then gently laid her hand on my thigh. I looked at her nervously, but willed myself to be calm. Truth be told, I found Marguerite's behavior forward as hell, but I kept my poker face, as they say...

"I'm a dominant, my dear, I like to spank brothers, among other things," Marguerite said in a deliberately sultry voice, and in spite of myself, I found myself turned on. Seriously, if someone told me a few days prior that I would find myself attracted to Marguerite Mathieu, the moralizing, bossy and pushy church diva that a lot of brothers at church and at school found off-putting, I would have laughed. Life is funny like that, eh?

"I'm a sub," I finally said without fear or shame, and Marguerite looked me up and down, and nodded. The voluptuous Haitian diva drew closer to me, totally getting into my personal space, but this time, I did not mind. I looked at Marguerite, fascinated. In my mind, I tried to reconcile the implications of her recent revelations with the image I had of her in my mind, that of the boring church gal always correcting people and trying to recruit them for activities, someone whom I preferred to avoid.

"Only a strong black man could admit this to himself, and to a black woman, I'm pleased to know you, Trevor," Marguerite said, and the lady held out her hand, which I shook. We left the third floor of the library and headed downstairs. For the next hour or so, while sipping on coffee at the in-library Starbucks, Marguerite and I talked about...everything.

"Not surprised that you're a dominatrix, you're bossy as hell at church," I said, laughing, and Marguerite grinned and shrugged. It occurred to me that there were so many sides to this lovely, fearless young Haitian woman whom I thought I knew. Marguerite Mathieu was full of surprises, and I for one was determined to unravel her mysteries. Also, she's frigging hot, alright? There, I admit it!

"Trevor, my dear, there is a certain order of things, I've always understood that, people need structure and discipline, it makes things run much smoother," Marguerite said, leaning back on the comfortable leather couch at the back of the Starbucks. At this hour, the place was almost empty. Just a couple of patrons beside ourselves. And that's how I liked it.

"At least you're comfortable with what you are, I'm turned on by black female dominance, and sometimes wonder if it makes me less of a black man," I said, a bit surprised at myself for admitting to Marguerite something I'd been struggling with for so long. Marguerite looked at me, and her brown eyes were filled with sympathy. I didn't know what to make of it.

"Trevor, you're a beautiful black man who likes strong black women, if we had many more like you, the world would be a better place," Marguerite said, and there was a dazzling smile on her lovely face. I looked at her, and found myself enchanted to be in her presence. Clearly I did not know Marguerite as well as I thought I did. Hmm. I wonder what else she's got in store for me...

"Alright, confession time? When you used to shush me in church and drag me to those Sunday school sessions? I liked it," I admitted, and Marguerite laughed out loud. A few people in the Starbucks turned to look at us, both patrons and staff, but we ignored them. I looked at Marguerite, fascinated by the lovely and fearless young black woman before me. And I realized that I wanted her...

"Let's keep in touch, Trevor, you're new to the lifestyle and I want to help you learn the ropes," Marguerite said suggestively, and she took out her cell phone. That's when I got nervous. I suddenly remembered my favorite character from the old TV series Nip/Tuck's words of wisdom about women and cell phones. I took Marguerite's number instead of giving her mine. Dominatrix or not, Marguerite is still a woman and they take forever to call a brother. You know I'm right.

"Oh, you'll definitely be hearing from me," I said, and Marguerite and I finished our drinks, then walked around campus. I walked her to the OC Transpo station. Marguerite waited for the 104 bus going from Carleton University to Orleans, Ontario, where she lived. Me? I live in Barrhaven, on the other side of town, but I'm not leaving the library till my assignment is done.

"Don't take too long," Marguerite said, as the 104 bus arrived at the station. I looked at her awkwardly, and smiled nervously. Sorry, folks, but I suck at goodbyes. Marguerite shook her head, then for some reason, she stood on her tippy toes. I'm six-foot-four and skinny, and they nicknamed me "La Giraffe" in high school. Marguerite is five-foot-nine, which is tall for a lady but mad short next to me. The lady planted a kiss on my lips, a two-second peck, and I looked at her, stunned.

"Bonne nuit Marguerite," I managed to say, and Marguerite smiled as she got on the bus. I waved her goodbye, then walked away. It was frosty outside, a cold evening in late October in the City of Ottawa, but I felt hot. Why did I feel hot? Marguerite, a sinfully sexy and very voluptuous Haitian sister just kissed me. Hot damn. I managed to make it to the University Center Building before I did the victory dance, confusing the hell out of passers-by. I didn't care. I felt like I was on fire...in a good way!

"Thanks for bringing me here, this place is nice," Marguerite said as we sat down at Creole Sensations, a nice little Haitian restaurant located on Montreal Road, in the heart of Vanier, Ontario. I smiled at Marguerite, who looked totally hot in a green and black turtleneck, and dark gray Capri pants. I looked alright in a blue silk shirt, black silk pants and black timberland boots.

"My pleasure," I replied as I began wolfing down my meal of white rice, brown bean sauce and spicy goat meat. I urged myself to slow down a bit since I was eating in front of a lady, but I noticed that Marguerite was wolfing down her food even faster than I was. Damn, this big beautiful gal can eat! I really like that in a woman, what can I say?

This was our third outing, Marguerite and I. A few days ago, we went to the Canadian Museum of Nature. Last time, we went to the Silver City movie theater to watch Birth Of A Nation, actor/director Nate Parker's powerful and controversial movie about the slave revolt of Nat Turner. A lot of black folks in the U.S. boycotted that movie because of controversy surrounding Nat Turner's recently uncovered indiscretions with a certain lady while in college. Indiscretions for which the brother was acquitted, by the way. Whatever. I liked the movie and so did Marguerite, and that's what matters.

"I'm having lots of fun, Trevor, thanks again for bringing me here, the place is nice, the food is great, how did I not know about this place?" Marguerite said, her eyes filled with wonder, and I smiled and shrugged. Truth be told, I was enjoying the lady's company. The more time I spent with Marguerite, the more I liked her. How could I ever think she was boring?

"Well, I'm grateful for the company," I said, and as I reached for my Pepsi, my hand brushed against Marguerite's, and she looked at me in such a way that I paused. Marguerite looked at me, and without thinking about it, I drew closer to her. Smiling, Marguerite looked at me, her lovely face inches from mine. That's when I kissed her. A real kiss too, with tongue and everything.

"Sweet lips you got here," Marguerite said, and I nodded, not knowing what to say. We finished our meals, and then went for a walk around Vanier. Even though many people in Ottawa consider Vanier to be the hood, I like it for its diversity and culture. A long time ago, when they were fresh from Haiti, my parents lived in Vanier. I was born in this town, and even though we've been in Barrhaven for almost two decades, Vanier is still part of me.

"This feels nice," I said, smiling as Marguerite linked her arm with mine. We walked through Vanier, going up Montreal Road, all the way to Montfort Hospital. Quite a hike, to be sure, but I was in good company. I liked walking around with Marguerite, and we talked about our lives, and school, the usual stuff. Most importantly, we talked about our shared passion for BDSM, and the growing bond between us.

"I can't tell you how happy I am to have you in my life, Trevor, someone from my community, my church, who shares my passions," Marguerite said as we sat on a stone bench in a little park located a heartbeat from Montfort Hospital. I looked at her and smiled, and, emboldened, I took her hands in mine. Yeah, I'm willing to admit that I have a thing for this gal...

"The feeling is mutual, Marguerite, just stop being soft and sweet, alright? I miss your bossy side," I said, and Marguerite grinned, and then grabbed me by the ear and yanked on it. Forcefully. I winced in pain, and a laughing Marguerite let go, and I saw pure wickedness in those brown eyes of hers, replacing the tenderness I'd seen all afternoon...

"The bossy Haitian bitch is back, subbie, and she wants you to know her parents are in Montreal and the Orleans house is empty as can be," Marguerite whispered in my ear, and I felt a surge of excitement rush through my entire being, along with a bit of fear. Marguerite and I left the park and boarded the 12 bus going to Blair Station, and from there we caught the 95 bus bound for Orleans. We got off at Jeanne D'Arc, and walked a few minutes to Marguerite's house on Gundy Lane. What followed was a night for the ages...

"Here I am, Mistress Mags," I said as I stepped out of the shower, and stood before Marguerite in my birthday suit, having discarded the towel a few seconds ago. Marguerite, or should I say, Mistress Mags, looked at me, like a general manager taking inventory of stock at a specialized store. I held my breath, and she finally cracked a smile. That's when I knew I was in for a treat...after a few fearsome tricks.

"Kneel before me, subbie," Mistress Mags said, and I obeyed. Marguerite walked up to me, and grabbed my face and pressed it against the space between her legs. I looked up at her, and nodded. For I knew just what to do. As Mistress Mags pulled down her panties, I found myself staring at her wet, hairy pussy. Without hesitation I began munching on it like a hungry man...

"Hmm, that's it, sub, put that mouth to good use," Mistress Mags, and I was happy to oblige. I hadn't been with a woman in months, and I couldn't get enough of Marguerite, how she smelled and tasted. Each woman has a unique smell and taste down below, and Marguerite's was wonderfully intoxicating, and I couldn't get enough of it. I stabbed her pussy with my tongue, and soon had Mistress Mags squealing in delight...

Next, Mistress Mags put a collar around my neck and fixed a leash to it, then she gave me a tour of her parents beautiful townhouse. Dutifully, I followed my mistress on all fours. I couldn't believe I was letting Marguerite do this to me, but part of me was turned on. This was black-on-black BDSM at its best, my most wicked erotic dream come true. Beside, watching Marguerite's big black ass move around that house got my dick hard, even as I struggled to keep up on all fours...

"You have a beautiful house, Mistress Marguerite, oops, I meant Mistress Mags," I said, resting a bit as we returned to the living room. Sitting on the couch while I lay at her feet, Mistress Mags smiled, and then, without warning, she slapped me hard across the face. Shit, it stung like hell, and I blinked in surprise. Marguerite smiled wickedly, and then put her foot on my stomach, her high-heeled foot, I might add. Infuriated and turned on at the same time, I stared at her.

"Subbie, I did not give you permission to speak, for this breach of protocol, you will be punished, now turn around and show me that ass," Mistress Mags said, and I obediently complied with her demand. I got on all fours, and assumed the position. I felt Marguerite's hands on my ass, and next thing I knew, I felt a slap on my ass. I turned around and found her smiling gleefully. Just like that, Mistress Mags began spanking my ass.

"Hmm," I sighed, barely audible even to myself, teeth gritted against the pain and pleasure that Marguerite/Mistress Mags doled out to my ass. The voluptuous Haitian diva really let me have it, and then she stopped. Abruptly. I turned around and saw Mistress Mags with a big smile on her lovely face. Clearly, the lady was pleased with her handiwork.

"You're doing really well, subbie, now, I'm going to make your ultimate fantasy come true," Mistress Mags said, and then she left the living room. I watched Marguerite walk away, sashaying that big booty of hers from side to side. Hot damn, my dick hardened at the sight of that ass. This was an ass which I wanted to bite, seriously. Moments later, Mistress Mags came back.

"Oh shit," I said, and Mistress Mags laughed out loud as I gawked at the dark, phallic object in her hand. I watched as Marguerite put on the strap-on dildo, and stroked it with an air of command on her pretty face. When I looked into her eyes, there was lust in them mixed with malice. I felt scared, I must admit, but I was also horny as can be. And I think Marguerite knew it.

"Trevor, my beautiful subbie, are you ready to get fucked in the ass by your darling mistress?" Marguerite asked, and I swallowed hard, then nodded. Mistress Mags rolled a condom on the dildo, and then smeared lotion on it. Returning to me, the gorgeous Haitian dominatrix got behind me, and I felt her small yet strong hands pry my ass cheeks open. A few moments later, I felt a cold liquid on my asshole. Marguerite was lubricating me...

Samuelx
Samuelx
2,121 Followers
12