She Finally Did It This Time...My Poor White Sub

Chapter 2

The Day After

 

Prologue: There is no erotica in this chapter. It’s our following conversation about what happened that night.

 

 

     Well, needless to say, she was upset. And the more she told me about it the more upset she got about it. Then she started to “curse herself” (a very southern slang) for being so stupid, which lapsed into regret. And she started to take an emotional nose dive equivalent to a kamakazi pilot aiming for a US aircraft carrier.

     I was still shocked by the whole thing, but soon this temporary stun began to fade, to be replaced by “other emotions”, most notably my pride and arousal. And I knew that I needed to save this situation and fast. So I told her the truth. I told her how proud I was of her; how few women would have the guts or daring or motivation to do something as kinky as that; I told her how much it means to me to have a woman who would go to such extremes for “her man”; I told her how incredibly erotic and exciting it was to hear about her “mis-adventures”; I told her that there are millions of women in the world who walk around every day and say things like, “Oh baby, I love you and I’ll do anything for you”, but they are just words, but what she did was action; I told her that if I ever wanted proof, positive proof that she really loves me and will do anything for me, well, now I have it.

Most importantly, I told her that I loved her, that I respected what she did and why she did it, and that it means more to me than any “token of esteem” like idle words and meaningless gifts. And that any gift you can “buy” with cash can be “bought” by anyone is not special. But what is special, is the gifts that can’t be “bought”, that have to be shared and experienced, and that is what she did for me. She gave me the best and biggest present she could give, she BECAME MY FANTASY GIRL…………SHE BECAME MY LOVE, MY FANTASY GIRL…………

And if there was a way to prove her love for me, by doing whatever it was that was in her power (and possibly a little beyond her power) to entice me to get my ass back to the states into her waiting arms and bed, well, she just did it. And every moment that I look at Chinese girls with flat chests, devoid of all forms of S&M and B&D, I wonder why I’m here in Taiwan, R.O.C., and why I’m not there, in her living room, having a drink and smokin’ some buds with her neighbor, Chantel, and feeling my heart beat in my chest and my cock swell as my girlfriend/sub/A has to strip, crawl, and get her ass beat by myself, then I get to turn, take the warm leather paddle from my hand, and put it in the palm of a sexy, bra-less, white tank top, cut-off shorts wearing black girl, who is going to use it on her big white ass, which is already marked up with pink, red and purple marks, oh shit………..oh shit……..oh shit…….what the hell am I doing here……..?????????????????????

Slowly, agonizingly slow, she began to change her mind. She stopped sniffing and sobbing, and started to answer me and talk about it more. Actually, the main thing she was worried about was Chantel showing the pics to someone who knows her daughter, or worse yet, showing them to her daughter. As I talked about it more with her, she began to laugh a little about it (a good sign) and soon she wasn’t even pissed off or depressed. OK, she was a little pissed off and depressed, and she was still worried who might see the pics, but she was no longer considering packing up her stuff and moving (another good sign).

When I asked about the pics, she kind of avoided the question, then told me that she got so pissed off after Chantel left last night, she was still drunk, and really hurt, more emotionally than physically, that she “erased the pics from her cell phone”. I got kind of scared, who erased what pics, I asked her. Then she told me again, that she, A, had erased the pics Chantel took of her from “her” cell phone, not Chantel’s cell phone.

I told her that it was a shame that she erased them all, all that work for nothing. And it was about that time that her whole persona started to change.

She thought that if it really turned me on, as much as I said it did, then why not pack my shit and come back home to the states. Instead of me, how did she say it, “Getting your self off watching porno movies about black girls and S&M, why not just come home and do it for real!” I about gasped out loud. What was she insinuating? That if I come home, she will not only be my sub-slut/slave but also reenact my deepest, darkest, kinkiest desires and fantasies. She even went so far as to ask me, “So, if we do that, you aren’t going to touch her are you. I couldn’t stand that at all.” And words of that nature.

So she went from horror and self-loathing, to “if it happens again, and you’re here, you cant’ touch her”. I gasped. Was she really hinting at what I thought she was hinting at? So I asked her, straight out. “Um, baby, so when I come home, all three can get together? Really?” She was silent and said something like, “We’ll see about that. You just need to get your ass over here!”

So we talked about it a little more, and she told me that Chantel was coming back over that night to “talk with her about something”. I pressed her for more details, but that is all she knew. And since her Sunday night would be my Monday morning, I wouldn’t get a chance to call her, so I have to wait until later this week to call. And the suspense is killing me. Every time I get on the computer, the first thing I do is check the emails, hoping to hear something from her. But nothing yet.

I wonder what happened. Did Chantel come back? Did she beat on my girl some more? Did she threaten her with the pics? Did she even remember the pics? Who knows, but we (I and now you the reader) will find out.