Deconstructing the Professor

"Are you using a book that was written to be pro-equality to highlight some so-called inadequacies inherent in my very race?"

"Oh, many authors have been brainwashed by do-gooders into thinking that change not only should be made, but even that it can be made. However, the truth is that society worked way better when blacks knew their place and were good slaves and not trying to think for themselves," Madison concludes ridiculously, as she pushes past me and sits back down in my chair. "Now if you'll excuse us, I have some work to finish up, and so does my new slave."

Furious, disappointed, shocked, all these emotions bounce around in my head as I burst out of the office. The last words I hear as I leave are, "Finish what you started, Nigger."

My tears start flowing, something that hasn't happened in years, as I make it back to my car. I know I have to deal with my anger and find out more about this bitch, and to do it sooner rather than later, so I head straight to my Mother's.

29. THE CONFRONTATION

I was home at the small desk in my bedroom marking papers, slowly getting back into a work routine, Madison having ignored me for most of the week, when I heard the front door open and slam shut.

Startled, since Nicole and Nicholas were home, I became worried that Madison might be sauntering into my house to make some demand that would reveal the shameful secret I was desperately trying to hide from my two children. Ironically, it wouldn't be Madison to shatter the semblance of civility that still remained, but my own elder daughter.

Keisha came trouncing into my room in a rage. "What the hell happened between you and Madison?"

"Pardon?" I asked, shocked by the question and having no idea how to answer.

"Well, she's ruining my life, and I have you to blame for it," my daughter threw at me.

"What did she do?" I asked, the possibilities of what Madison might do being endless.

"What didn't she do?" she shot back sarcastically. "She seduced one of the partners and made the other one into her lesbian slave. I've just come from finding Carol hiding under my desk, begging to service her!"

"Oh my, Carol?" I gasped, more to myself than to my daughter. Carol was the most dedicated woman to the black cause I knew, and a die-hard feminist who'd never married because her mission of achieving equality for all blacks outweighed wasting her time on any sort of life for herself.

"Yes, Carol," my daughter seethed at me, "And apparently there's another woman around who's a Nigger slave to her. You wouldn't know who that might be, would you, Mommy dearest?"

Her icy glare and her bitter tone were like daggers to my heart as I realized the consequences of my fall. I stammered, "I-I-I, um... I'm so sorry, Keisha."

"Sorry for which part of it?" she demanded furiously, throwing her hateful tone at me with full force. "For breaking your ethics as a professor? For unleashing this bitch onto your daughter? For single-handedly initiating the downfall of all the work the NAACP has spent decades working on? Or for being, as Madison puts it, a Nigger slut?"

All the humiliation I'd endured in my descent to irreversible slavery was nothing compared to the utter shame I now felt for the consequences I'd heaped on my daughter. I heard footsteps and saw that both of my eighteen-year-old children were now watching this confrontation, their mouths hanging open in shock. Keisha's entrance and diatribe hadn't been at low volume. I ordered them with as much shaken dignity as I could muster, "Go to your rooms, please."

But Keisha countermanded, "No, no, stay here, you two. You might as well know, as we lawyers say, the truth, the whole truth and nothing but the truth."

The twins remained, silent but taking in every word as Keisha continued her tirade. "What has she made you do?"

"I can't tell you that," I replied, trembling at the accusations and truth about to be revealed.

"Is it true? Did you submit to her?" she questioned.

"Yes, but it isn't that black and white," I tried to justify my weakness.

"It isn't black and white? If that isn't the most ironic statement ever! It has everything to do with black and white, or apparently white over black," she chuckled with amused hatred.

"I tried to stop her," I justified.

"How, by becoming her sex slave?" I heard the twins gasp at the question.

"No, it's... I... she... umm... overwhelmed me," I stammered.

"Did you enjoy it?"

I didn't respond to that one at first, ashamed to admit the cold hard reality.

"DID YOU FUCKING ENJOY BEING A LESBIAN NIGGER SLUT TO THAT RACIST WHITE BITCH?" my daughter screamed at me, loud enough for the neighbors to hear.

"Yes," I admitted, so quiet I was almost inaudible.

"Oh my God," Keisha asked with far less volume but no less anger and despair, pacing back and forth. "How could you? How could you? How the fuck could you?"

The devastating reality of how I'd disappointed my daughter, a woman I'd desperately tried to bring back into my life, was the harshest blow of all. "I'm sorry," was all I could muster, my head hanging down in shame.

"Did you offer me to her?" she asked, her almost inaudible volume enhancing the intense anger in her question.

"God, no!" I defended myself, "I had no idea about anything you just told me. She hasn't even spoken to me since the weekend." A small lie, except if you count our brief encounters last night when she'd asked if Nicholas could come out to play, and then later when I'd eaten my son's cum from her pussy.

"You've ruined my life," she accused, tears streaming down her face.

Those are words almost every daughter says to her mother at some time in their life, but this time I couldn't deny it.

I repeated my pathetic mantra, "I'm sorry, Keisha, I can't believe how badly everything's turned out."

Keisha sighed. "We've got to stop her."

"She can't be stopped," I warned.

"What do you mean?"

"I tried stopping her. I tried everything. For weeks. She has connections everywhere it seems, and when you disobey her, she punishes either you or people you care about. I'm guessing she initially went after you as a punishment for me because I didn't submit to her when she first came after me," I explained.

"What?" Keisha asked confused.

"She has many sex slaves, and she doesn't hesitate to use them to do her dirty work. She's an evil person who loves to humiliate people, yet somehow her power is hypnotic in such a way that she slowly breaks you down until you submit to her," I explained, trying to justify my weakness. "I rejected her advances at first, like I said, for weeks, but the bombardment of attacks she threw at me weakened me inch by inch. I can't explain it, but eventually serving her was all I wanted to do, so..." I stopped, remembering that my twins were listening.

"No point stopping now, Mommy," Keisha said, the dismissive tone in the term Mommy, clearly a summation of what she thought of my parenting abilities.

I sighed and finished my thought. "...so when the time came, I couldn't resist submitting to her."

"So you serviced her?" Keisha asked, her face distorted in a mixture of disgust and hatred.

"Yes," I whispered.

"What did she make you do?"

"Wait a moment." I walked across my room, picked up the slut-mandments and returned. "Here are the expectations she has for me."

Keisha studied them, her face going redder and redder as she read. She looked at me, noticed my white stockings and asked, "Are you wearing panties, Mother?"

I shook my head, my eyes closed in shame.

Looking up at her half-siblings, she continued at me, "So you follow all these slut-mandments?"

"If I don't, I get punished," I said.

"What does punishment entail?"

"Please... let the twins go to their rooms," I pleaded.

"No, they might as well know all the sordid details of the woman in charge of raising them."

"The most recent time," I began, trying to put this past weekend into words. "She made me wear a butt plug all day, and I wasn't allowed to take it out till after I'd serviced most of the players and one of the coaches of the basketball team at a glory hole after their victory this past weekend." I deliberately avoided mentioning my humiliating panty smelling, eating my son's cum from her pussy yesterday, and so forth that had also occurred during my complete downfall.

"Oh my God," all three of my children gasped in unison.

"You sucked off a bunch of students' cocks at a glory hole?" Keisha asked, stunned.

Humiliated, I admitted, "Yes, I had no choice."

"You always have a choice," she spat back.

"I used to be so confident that was true. But when I tried to help other slaves who'd already submitted to her, I realized they really did have no choice. In addition to Madison's powerful personality and threats of discipline that she backs up with action, there's something so inexplicably addictive about her, where she almost hypnotically draws out a sexual side of you that you didn't know existed. And once that side of you is switched on, it's impossible to go back in time and pretend it didn't happen," I rationalized, deciding I might as well tell the complete truth in an attempt both to explain what happened to me, and to warn Keisha at the same time.

"That makes no sense," Keisha disagreed. "That is your sorry excuse for an explanation of why you became a sex toy for one of your students?"

"I didn't say it's a good explanation, but it is the truth," I insisted, adding, "Think about it. How in the world could Madison have possibly gotten Carol under your desk? You know Carol; you've told me you idolize her."

"I don't know," my daughter said, for the first time without a scathing tone of hatred.

"I don't either. It seems completely unfathomable, yet nonetheless it happened," I pointed out.

"I've got to stop her," Keisha pledged.

"I'd love to see you do that, Keisha. But she'll attempt to break you the same way she's done to many others, including me and Carol," I warned. "Actually, I am so proud that you've been able to stand up to her so far, but she doesn't lose."

My daughter's face shifted. I could tell she hadn't resisted in the adamant way she'd implied so far, but I didn't say anything.

She sighed, and silence filled the room for a time. I looked at my twins, who were watching us as if we were a live reality show, both of them shocked by everything they were witnessing.

Finally, Nicole broke the silence, "So... is that why Madison took Nic out on a date?"

"What?" Keisha demanded.

"Yeah, Madison came by yesterday evening and picked up Nic for some sorority function," Nicole explained.

"Really?" Keisha responded, glaring at me before turning to Nicholas and asking, "And tell me dear brother, how was your date?"

"Amazing," Nicholas replied, beaming from ear to ear.

"Amazing how?"

"I don't kiss and tell," he replied smugly.

"But do you fuck and tell?" Keisha snapped back at him.

His red cheeks gave us the answer he wouldn't say out loud.

"You screwed the slut, didn't you?" Keisha accused.

He snapped, "Don't call her a slut!"

"Oh I'm so sorry," she apologised condescendingly, "Did you fuck the oh-so-sweet angel of death?"

"Fuck off," he snapped, sulking away to his room.

Keisha turned her wrath back on me, "You allowed her to fuck your own son?"

"I didn't allow it to happen, I wasn't there," I defended.

"Well, you sure as hell didn't stop it," Keisha snapped at me.

I stood dumbfounded as Keisha turned around and stomped out of the house, slamming the door so hard the whole building rattled.

I looked at my younger daughter, who had a bizarre smile on her face I couldn't read while we both just stood there... before she too went down the hallway and into her room.

My whole life had just unravelled in front of my eyes, I was helpless to stop it, and I had no idea what to do next.

30. AT HOME MAID

The next morning I knew the last remnants of respect my children might have had for me was gone. Nicholas slapped my ass when he arrived in the kitchen. I considered saying something, but didn't. He ordered, his tone as condescending as his older sister's had been last night, "Mother, please get me a glass of milk."

I did as he asked, and when I returned with it he said, "I see you're wearing the attire your Mistress has instructed you to."

I was embarrassed, but I explained, attempting to cling to the role of his Mother, "I'm sorry you heard what you did last night, but I'm an adult, and free to make my own decisions."

"As am I, Mother," he replied coldly, his use of the word Mother feeling like barbed wire.

I let that go as I finished making breakfast. I felt his hands on my ass as he lifted my dress and looked at my bare butt. Just as quickly as he'd begun touching me, he returned to his seat explaining, "Just making sure you're obeying Madison's slut-mandments."

I briefly wondered if he'd seen the complete list of rules, but realized that was impossible since Keisha had taken it with her. My pussy tingled with excitement even as my brain argued, Don't even think about it. I scolded him, "Just because you know of my situation, you don't have the right to disrespect your Mother."

He laughed, "Why not? You certainly disrespect yourself."

"It isn't like that."

"Then tell me, what is it like, Mother?"

"I can't explain it, son. But it's between two adults, and I shouldn't have to justify it."

"If you say so," he replied smugly, as his sister made her way into the kitchen, dressed way sluttier than I'd ever seen her before.

I rebuked her, "No way are you leaving this house dressed like that."

She laughed, "You mean dressed like you?"

It was a slap in the face, but hard to argue with. I changed my approach. "Nicole, you're a beautiful woman, and you don't need to dress provocatively to get attention."

"Thank you for the lovely words, Mother," she said, "but Madison choose this outfit for me on Wednesday when she was here. I was too scared to wear it in front of you until after last night."

"She did, did she?" I sighed. I then asked, "Did she tell you to wear it, or just suggest that you wear it?"

My daughter, in black stockings I noticed, shrugged, "She's never told me to do anything. She just suggests ways I can use my natural looks and body to my advantage."

Curious about the colour of her stockings, I asked, "Did she choose your stockings?"

"Actually yes, she said black stockings are a symbol of power and sexiness," my daughter informed me; I read between the lines that Madison was making a statement that my mostly white-looking daughter was superior to her dark-skinned mother.

Knowing this tack was a losing battle, I tried to manipulate her, instead. "Nicole, you're eighteen years old and old enough to make your own decisions. Do what you think is right for you."

Nicole hugged me and said, "Thanks, Mommy. You're the best."

Such a compliment warmed my heart after the public humiliation she'd witnessed last night. But my attempted manipulation hadn't worked: she'd just taken it as license to dress like a slut.

I poured her a glass of juice and served both my children the French Toast I'd made. We ate in nervous silence, each of us thinking about the new family dynamic that had evolved so quickly. Nicholas kept giving me looks that made me uncomfortable, like he was seeing me as a potential conquest. I tried to ignore the slight tingle down below as I inwardly returned the compliment if that's what it was, and thought about my son as a sexual being.

The kids finished their breakfast, and they both hugged me for the first time in as long as I can remember, not counting Nicole's earlier hug this morning. Nicole's was a normal daughter-mother hug, but Nicolas' hug lingered way longer then society's expectations, his hand resting on my ass the entire time and his chest moving around on mine. He surprised me a second time by kissing my cheek before leaving, saying, "Bye, Mommy."

Once they were both gone, I sat down, trying to understand what had just happened. Looking at the clock, I realized that if I didn't hurry I'd be late for work, so I left the kitchen a mess, something I never did, and rushed off to work, again trying to figure out a way of stopping the unravelling of my life, which had now come to involve all three of my children.

31. A SEVENTH BRIEF INTERLUDE INTO THE MIND OF KEISHA JEFFERSON: HOW CAROL FELL

I tossed and turned all night. What the hell was I supposed to do about what I knew? I was deeply disappointed with my mother's actions, and those of my superiors and role models, and was feeling disillusioned about everything I'd ever worked for. How could one woman, a girl of twenty for Christ's sake, derail so much hard work so methodically and effectively?

Should I blow the whistle on the fiasco that was already happening, or try to stop it myself? If I blew the whistle, the consequences would be huge, especially if any of this made the media. The best way to end this would be somehow to catch Madison in the act and blackmail her. But how? I got very little sleep as I prepared for a confrontation with her that was bound to be explosive.

I arrive at work early and I'm thrilled to see that Madison isn't in my office, but less thrilling, that a note from Carol is.

Keisha,

Please come and see me when you arrive.

Ms. Myers

I take a deep breath and go in to talk with Ms. Myers, my mentor, who's been the role model and the mother figure to me that I'd never felt my birth mother was.

I knock on her door and Carol calls out, "Come in." Once I'm in her office, her eyes widen, she just stares at me for a few moments, then gathers herself and requests, "Please close the door, Keisha."

I do and I sit down.

She apologizes, "I'm so sorry for what you witnessed yesterday. It was unprofessional, inexplicable and unforgivable."

"It's okay, Ms. Myers," I begin.

"No, no, no," she interrupted, "It isn't. I'm personally mortified by my actions, and those of Mr. Walters. Unfortunately, I can't erase the mistakes I've made, and I must live with the consequences, one of which I sadly need your help with."

"What can I do?"

"After you left, Madison and I had a long discussion, and she's agreed to keep our indiscretions secret if we give her a part-time paid job now, and a full-time paid job in the summer. I was reluctant to agree, but I see no other way not to harm the cause."

"I see," I reply, worried about the implications in this for me. "And what is my role to be?"

"I need to know you're okay with this. I know I must have disappointed you greatly, and I'm determined to fix my moment of weakness, but you're the only one who knows about my and Mr. Walter's indiscretions."

"So you want me to keep this between us."

"Yes. And, she insists on working with you as well."

"Why?

"I don't know. She wouldn't tell me, but she insisted it had to be one of the conditions of the deal."

"How did you end up submitting to her?"

Tears begin to form in her eyes. "I can't explain it, but years of putting my work first and ignoring my sexual needs had build up inside me to such a point that when the dam burst, it really, really fell to pieces."

"But how?" I ask, struggling to get a grasp on the power Madison has, even over me, my dreams of submitting to her growing more and more intense each night.

"I honestly don't know. She just hit me like a lightning storm. One minute we were talking about whether she could have a paying job, the next thing I knew she'd shifted the conversation to sex and how lonely it must be to be a single black woman, and before I even knew what was happening, she had me on my knees begging for her to allow me to cum. It was humiliating, yet somehow she'd looked inside me and seen my desire to submit, something I'd ignored since I was in college and served as a submissive to a different white woman."