Conversation over dinner

Vanessa picked dejectedly at the quinoa-and-lentil pilaf in front of her.

With her breasts bared, her butthole still plugged up by a rubber stopper, a blackened eye, and with everything else she had to be righteously angry about; watching Brand eating the two meals she had most been looking forward to somehow had awoken Vanessa's peevish side.

Why had she mentioned them first? Now she was stuck with lentils.

It was beyond silly. Beyond unimportant, and petty. ...But it was one more disruption in her life, one more thing Brand was taking away from her.

"Tell me about your sex life, Ms. Lockley." Brand broke the moment of silence.

Vanessa choked mid-bite, inhaling specks of food right down her airway. She coughed, swallowed some water, sputtered that out, and finally recovered after a moment of undignified wet hacking.

Brand smiled innocently at her. He was so fucking handsome... what was wrong with him, that he was doing this to her?

Vanessa shifted uncomfortably in her chair, which had the unfortunate effect of reminding her again of the plug up her ass.

"I... don't really have one right now."

"Well I suppose that's changed, hasn't it?"

Vanessa glowered at a fixed point on the table, and stabbed at her mushy meal with her fork.

"So no boyfriends then?"

"... No."

"Girlfriends?"

"No!" Vanessa screwed up her face.

"Good. Another lover might have made things awkward. So may I hazard a guess that you're not on birth control?"

Vanessa didn't answer for a moment. Brand kept looking at her. "I... yes, I'm on the... pill." Even after blowing him, being touched by him, displaying herself for him, and his staring up her sex and inserting frozen water up her butthole, Vanessa didn't want to think of Brand as someone she would disclose such intimate details to. He was not her lover, or her friend.

He was her enemy. Her tormentor. And she didn't want to be in a world where she would tell him the time of day, much less such personal details.

"On the pill! Oh, my, you must be a bit of a slut to need regular birth control with no boyfriend."

Vanessa ground her teeth much more than she needed to chew her food.

"I suppose we knew that already, though. Where do you meet your quick lays, 'Nessa? Is there a local cougar bar you like to frequent? Or do you pay for it? That would be the executive thing to do, I suppose, although a bit unexpected."

"It's not... for that." Vanessa muttered, not wanting to elaborate further. She sighed. It was better than Brand's crude speculation. "It helps my... female visitor."

Birth control pills had been a godsend to Vanessa. She got almost no negative side effects, and had been troubled by the worst cramping and mood swings during 'that time' before she had started the medication.

"Mmm?" Brand's face was puzzled for a moment. Vanessa gave him the universal 'look', the arched eyebrows and half-annoyed eye that signified... "Oh. Oh! Your period. That's what you mean, right?"

Vanessa didn't believe for a moment that Brand actually needed confirmation, but he waited until she gave a curt nod of acknowledgement.

"I see. Well that works for me." Brand shoveled a big forkful of salmon into his mouth. He washed it down with some wine. Vanessa took a sip of her own. She would need it, to get through this meal. Brand had instructed her to get out her best bottle of red for the two of them. 'In celebration, and to new beginnings' he said, or some other nonsense. Vanessa had gotten her second best bottle.

"Did you know that I have a special power, Vanessa?"

Vanessa didn't sip her wine. She gulped it.

"I bring it up because we've had some troubles with fibbing. You see, I have a special technique to tell when woman is lying. It requires that I feel her pulse through her breasts. It's a kind of... divination, you could say."

Brand allowed a moment for Vanessa to process his ridiculous assertion, "I can tell from your rather stupid expression that you don't believe me..."

Vanessa almost did believe him. Not any kind of divination bullshit, but she didn't think it would be easy to get a lie past Brand, especially when so compromised. The specific nature of his claim was so bizarrely put, though, and so distasteful, that her face pinched.

"... So allow me to demonstrate. Stand up and bend over the table." Brand breathed through his nose as he took a big bite of his Thai salad, chewing loudly while he waited.

Vanessa no longer had her utensils in hand. She had dropped them when he first ordered her to bend... her hands were in her lap, fidgeting madly. She couldn't... But she scooted her chair back... and so far gone she stopped wringing her hands and placed them on the table in front of her, flat. She stood. She stooped over. Her heavy breasts swung pendulously in the air between them.

Brand's smile was small and mysterious. "Now I close my eyes. I won't attempt to read your face at all. I'll see all, tell all, by reading your energies through the nodes in those amazing hangers." Vanessa would have facepalmed at Brand's absurd performance if it wasn't far too real, if it didn't add and extra layer of humiliation to her display.

Brand hummed an unwavering tone, so soft as to be almost inaudible. He leaned forward and rested his long elbows on the table, evenly spaced, and raised his hands to cup Vanessa's breasts. He gently ran his strong fingers back and forth across their brown surfaces. He touched her stiffening nipples with his thumbs. He grabbed her mammaries at their base, and smoothly pulled down all the way to their tips, trailing behind little furrows in her dark flesh until he reached the tips. All was done with a kind of deliberate precision that almost held the semblance of some greater purpose other than the molestation that it was.

"mmmmm... Have you ever had a threesome?" Brand's expression was a picture of serenity, while he toyed with Vanessa's physical and mental privacy.

That Brand's question was sexual in nature was hardly surprising, given her position. But that very position was so uncomfortable, and his question... Vanessa didn't want to answer at all, but at least she could answer, "No," honestly, while his hands grazed over the taut surface of her hanging chest.

Brand's tranquil face was marred by a small squint of concentration when Vanessa answered. He juggled her breasts, rolling and weighing them, 'divining' the truth of her statement.

Not that he had cared about the truth when she had confessed to being the 'company cocksucker' before, or when she had been **** to say that she sucked and fucked her way to her current high-level position. Was that what this was? Was she going to be hurt again... would she be **** to say the most degrading things about herself?

Either way, Vanessa hoped she wouldn't have to test Brand's 'special power', that she wouldn't feel compelled to lie by Brand's intrusiveness, or be compelled to lie by his brutality.

Brand nodded, seemingly satisfied with Vanessa's answer, and she let loose the spent air burning her lungs. "You must have meant 'No, Daddy'."

Vanessa swallowed. She had been avoiding calling Brand any honorific for some time. Of course he had noticed. "I'm... sorry," As much as the false apology chafed, but she didn't want to be stuck calling Brand 'Daddy' again, "I meant... No, Sir."

Brand resumed his blank expression of meditation, "mmmmm... Have you ever slept with a woman?"

Vanessa kept her voice even. "No, Sir."

Again Brand weighed each breast, one at a time. He massaged her... his slight crease turned into a frown. He pinched Vanessa's nipples, just for a moment, but hard enough to make her gasp. "I don't know... I'm getting something here..." He shook his head, "Nope, something isn't right."

Vanessa hesitated, "I haven't slept with a girl..." Brand didn't move his hard fingernails. Vanessa could sense another pinch coming, "I did make out with one..." It was coming, Vanessa rushed on, "More than made out. We went to second base." The African-American businesswoman woman moved to justify her only female sexual encounter, "It was a sorority thing. That's as far as I've ever gone with a woman." Still Brand didn't move his fingers. Vanessa mustered as much sincerity to her voice as she could, "I swear to you! Brand, really, that's it."

She flushed. One little pinch, and Vanessa had just blurted out... She was so ****... this wasn't her! This wasn't supposed to be how she was, who she was...

Her stomach twisted with anxiety. Vanessa tried to back away, but Brand's hands seized her tits. Not hard enough to hurt badly, but the threat was there. He was so strong... he could crush her sensitive orbs easily. She whimpered, and stayed put.

Neither verbalized the colored woman's weak escape attempt.

"mmmmm..." Here it came. Another crude invasion of Vanessa's sexual history, or her sexual present, or... "You've been eyeing my fish like a starving hippo. Did you want a bite?"

The mundane, insulting question caught Vanessa off guard. "What? No! -oOH! Ahh! Fuck! S-STOP!" Brand squeezed Vanessa's black breasts full-**** and pulled down, causing them to bulge and stretch around his fingers until her skin was shiny and smooth. She stopped perching on her hands, instead reflexively grabbing at Brand's to try and pry his away... and without their support fell forward onto the table. Her stomach mashed into her food, and a bit of drool flecked her chin. Her legs kicked wildly behind her. Brand's grip somehow tightened, she might as well have been trying to bend iron with her slender fingers. "FUCK! Sir! Yes, I wanted the stupid goddamn salmon! Christ!" Vanessa was released from her ****. Brand's hands stroked her breasts again as before, tenderly touching them.

"See what happens when you lie?" Brand's eyes were open, looking into Vanessa's.

She hadn't even meant to lie! About something so stupid, too... She sniffled, and propping herself up on one elbow she brushed the food that had plastered to her stomach back onto her plate. Freeing one hand, Brand picked up his fork and flaked off a generous bite of salmon, making sure to flavor it with the accompanying sauce. He scooped it up, and waved it in front of Vanessa's full lips.

Vanessa stared hatred into Brand's playful gray eyes.

"What? You said you wanted some." Brand pressed his fork into her lips, and lower he touched more insistently at her aching tit. Vanessa parted her teeth, and allowed her treat to enter. She chewed, and wished it didn't taste as good as she had thought it would.

"And what do you say...?" Brand's tone held the universal cadence of an adult trying to teach a child manners.

Vanessa flicked a stray lentil from her belly into the pile on her plate, "Thank you. Sir." She made her voice as venomous as possible. Brand didn't seem to care, he closed his eyes again. His thumbs circled her thick, dark nipples. Vanessa sighed, and put her head down.

A low hum indicated yet another question. Vanessa resolved to get it over with as quickly as possible.

"mmmmm... have you... done anal?"

Vanessa took a deep breath. "No, Sir."

Brand cocked his head, and frowned. He pulled Vanessa's breasts to the sides, and released them with a little added swing, letting them clap together. He raised his eyebrows, and with his head cocked and eyes closed he gave off the impression that he was listening to the sound of them slapping into each other. He raised them again...

Dammit! What had to happen to get this shit over with? "I mean, I've given it a try a couple times. But it was gross, and unpleasant. It didn't... I didn't go through with it."

Brand swung them together a second time, making Vanessa wince... but he nodded in apparent satisfaction to the sound they made. "I see, yes. So you tried to be a butt slut. You wanted to be one. You chickened out." Brand nodded sagely at his twisted interpretation. Vanessa didn't argue.

"mmmmm... Have you ever been ****?"

Vanessa looked at Brand, right into his eyelids, willing a hole to burn right through them. "Not before earlier today."

"You call that ****?"

"Yes, Sir," Vanessa could barely **** her words past her clenched teeth, "What would you call it?"

Brand shrugged, and opened his eyes. He smiled his winning smile. "Foreplay."

Vanessa started grinding her clenched teeth. 'Foreplay' indeed... and maybe he was right. That was the worst part.

Brand closed his eyes once more, and relaxed his expression, "One more question... an important one."

Finally!

"I want you to put your hand between your legs and and stroke your hairy twat while you think about it."

Vanessa hesitated. Brand shifted his grip and started to twist her breasts, just enough to warn her... It was almost over with. Leaning on just one elbow, Vanessa tentatively reached her hand backwards and touched her kinky black pubic curls.

"Are you proud to be black?"

That. That skin-deep thing that had shadowed her all her life. Vanessa pursed her thick lips. The subtext had been there since Brand had started - with her being a black woman, under the control of a white man. Brand had hinted at it before, with little jabs, touches of racist language. But this was a direct question into her race, one that no matter her answer he would try to manipulate, as he had done at every turn. The cards were completely stacked against her - she was hurt both physically and emotionally, her breasts were completely at his mercy... were being actively caressed and massaged and threatened by his strong white hands. Hell, he had set her up such that she was touching herself!

"I'm proud of everything that I am," Vanessa answered, carefully defiant. Trying to avoid playing into Brand's set up to bigotry. Her finger found her slick slit.

"Interesting answer. But it wouldn't be a lie would it?" Brand's fingers dug a little deeper, began twisting again...

"I..." Vanessa had to think. It was so hard to think like this. But Brand was right, she was hardly proud of -

"Push your stopper back into your anus. It must be slipping."

It... probably was. Vanessa was glad of Brand's closed eyes as she reached back further and pushed it in. It had slipped more than she knew, had almost come out. Her body had been under all kinds of strain since her interrogation under Brand began. She grunted as she **** it fully back into place, until the flat head was flush with her tight anal ring.

"Continue."

"I... you're right, not everything, but, -"

"Keep fingering yourself."

Shamefully, Vanessa was ahead of Brand. She paused her self-violation at his words... and then resumed while he stroked and grabbed at her exposed bosom.

"- But I'm proud of being... black..." At that moment, in this white man's hands, it was a sad lie. Vanessa's pride was now a swinging, fluctuating thing - something that rose up fast and hot, and receded just as quickly when Brand snatched it away. With her finger deep in her wet pussy, at that moment her pride was nowhere to be found.

Question answered, Brand opened his eyes and studied the older woman's sullen face. "You're proud of your heritage? Your history?"

Brand rolled her breasts in her hand. Vanessa didn't trust herself to speak, but she nodded. However much the lie would hurt her... hurt her front... and at that point she believed that Brand did indeed know when she was lying, or evading... she wouldn't say otherwise. She would say she was proud of her African lineage even if it killed her. Even if in her current state it was a lie, and she was fingering her vagina hard for a white man, she wouldn't say otherwise.

"This is your history, Ms. Lockley. Bare chested. Hot lipped. At a white man's mercy. Waiting to get ****. You're proud to be black?"

There... that wasn't fair! That wasn't it at all. That wasn't what she meant, what it meant to be -

"Yes or no. Are you proud to be black? Remember what happens if you lie."

There was a wrong answer, and a worse answer. One that would betray more than just herself, and her own weakness. "...Yes, you bastard. I'm proud to be black. Sir." Vanessa lied.

She couldn't articulate better under this duress, bent over, in turmoil, with her own finger inside her... her own two fingers, she realized.

"... Good. You should be proud of this."

Brand hadn't called her out on her lie. He allowed her to be 'proud'... and Vanessa hated it. She longed for the pain of him mauling her breasts - at least that would mean that she defied him, and still falsely called herself proud.

This was worse. This was her being proud of what he said she was, what he said her history was, and meant.

"There's something missing." Brand reached out, and tipped her plate, letting the course, grainy mixture of her meal slip onto the bare wooden table. He tossed the plate casually over her shoulder, and her utensils and napkin followed.

"That's closer to reality. To history. Sit back down. Let's keep eating."

Suddenly Vanessa was aware of how much she needed to finish what she had started between her thighs. She had been teased - unwillingly, but still teased all afternoon and evening. She hadn't had her own climax yet, and had her sexual parts toyed with, participated in several sex acts with a disturbingly attractive, confidant younger man, had been told and confessed to deeply sexual things. She reluctantly withdrew her fingers from her needy cunt and sat. It was so engorged by just sitting on it... and on her uncomfortably plugged ass, teased her further. She put her hands on the table, wondering how she was supposed to finish her dinner.

"Oh! Your fingers are positively dripping, Ms. Lockley. You'll have to tell me if it makes your meal taste better. Go on."

Vanessa hid her hand under the tabletop, far too late. "I - I'm full Br- Sir. I don't want -"

"Nonsense! I won't hear it, Ms. Lockley, that fine food will not go to waste," Brand's hard gaze turned soft and kind, "Just think of all those poor starving children in Africa that are deprived of regular meals like this." Vanessa had always hated, hated that sort of phrase, especially the idea that white people everywhere used it around their tables. Her anger flared, but had nowhere to go. "No, you'll eat it."

Brand picked up his own utensils, and without her breasts under threat Vanessa was... no more free than she had been. Conscious of how utterly degrading it was, she began picking at the too-fine morsels of food that she could manage to grab, using her fingers like pincers. She felt like... no... but she did...

She felt like an ape. Or a fucking monkey. She pinched some grains into her long-nailed fingers and lifted them to her mouth, shoveling the tips in. She...! She had used her right hand, her dominant hand, and somehow in her humiliation she had forgotten... she got a taste of her own pussy, just as Brand predicted.

He was grinning maddeningly. It was all Vanessa could do not to humiliate herself further by launching across the table at him and trying to claw his eyes out.

Brand ate slowly, amused eyes watching Vanessa's struggles. As the food dwindled, it became harder and harder to pick up. Brand finished, and just watched the agonizing process of her trying to scoop her pilaf into her mouth.

"That's enough of that."

Vanessa sat back, more than happy to oblige with her meal being over. Brand shook his head, "I mean of using your hands, Ms. Lockley. That's going nowhere, we both can see that. I'm not waiting all night for you to finish your meal. No more hands. Use your mouth."

He brought out his phone. Vanessa... she was frozen in self-conflict. She wouldn't. Certainly not while being videoed.

"Or I can help you, 'Nessa, like I did with you feeding on your tits earlier."

The black executive got a mental image of Brand forcefully mashing her face painfully onto the hard table, dragging it across the surface, yelling at her to stick out her tongue as she pleaded for him to stop, pleaded for him to let her do it herself.

This was what she was becoming... Vanessa did it. She regretfully, painfully lowered her own head, and started picking up bits of food with her lips.

"Tongue, too, Vanessa. Don't make me drag it out of your head."

Vanessa glared, projecting raw rage at the lens capturing her debasement. In her mind's eye she saw herself, and realized that her angry stare made her humiliating assignment look even worse, made her going through with it even sweeter.

She lowered her eyes... and saw herself again, in her head, having turned submissive at that moment in the recording.

It didn't matter. Like when being asked about... she had a black eye, she was topless and licking and slurping up her food under duress, and she was being recorded doing it. No matter what she did with her eyes, however defiant or submissive, it simply didn't matter. She would look like a weak, tamed black slut no matter what.

Thinking about it any more was too unbearable. She kept her gaze where it was, down at her task.

Vanessa smoothed back a fallen lock of hair. She lapped and kissed up the scattered remains of her meal bit by little bit, until her place at the table was spotless except for the shine of her spit.