We have to talk

“Come here, Riya.” I lead the slender young woman into the living area and sit her down on the couch.

“Don't give me flack about this Mr. Patterson.” Riya glares at me defensively, “You're the one who asked, remember?” Well, she's right about that, I just wasn't expecting the whole racial stereotype thing. I had no trouble taking Alison as a '****' many times over the year she lived with me, but Alison is as white as you can get. Riya isn't really dark-skinned, but she's clearly self-conscious about the color of her caramel skin. “Don't try to pretend that white men didn't take colored slaves as lovers in America, Mr. P.”

“That was almost 200 years ago, Riya.” I protest weakly.

“Do you really believe men have changed that much in just a couple centuries?” It was a valid question. If I had lived in antebellum Virginia and had the money to blow, would I have bought a dark-skinned African bed **** ... or maybe a pretty little maiden taken from Ceylon? I have to answer her somehow; Riya is becoming more and more nervous at my prolonged silence, but I just don't know what to say.

“I'm sorry, Sir.” Riya's gaze drops to her lap clearly not comfortable with the recent conversation. “Can you forget I ever said any of it.”

“No, Riya.” I chuckle softly, “I don't think I could ever forget a chance to have someone like you as a submissive ****.”

“Holy Krishna.” Riya covers her mouth with her hand, perhaps as surprised as I am by the unexpected exclamation. I however decide to make my move while the flustered young woman is confused and ****.

“If I agree to take you as my ****, Riya.” I warn her, “I'd expect to do anything I wanted to you.”

“Yes, Sir.” It is a whisper, but clear enough for me to hear.

“Just like that British Officer claimed his Hindi princess.” Riya's breathing deepens and her hands tighten on her lap until her knuckles whiten. I really expect her to stop this madness before it gets out of hand but am pleasantly surprised.

“Yes, Sir.” Her voice is even softer than before.

“You'd be my little dark-skinned ****-girl, Riya.” Even though this race-play is new for me, I see Riya bite her lip between her white teeth when I add this element of her fantasy. “I'd use you like my personal native fuck toy.”

“I know Mr. Patterson, ... It's awful ...” her dark almond-shaped eyes finally lift to meet my intense gaze, “but I'm out of options. Where else can I go?”

“Nowhere.” I reinforce this belief that she is completely mine. When I see her eyes lower again, I know I have her. “Now, go change into one of those Indian outfits I saw you unpack earlier.” It is a command that will establish what kind of relationship I'm going to have with this lovely co-ed. It's not where I was expecting this to go when I first saw her picture, but that was before I heard Riya's confession about her dark sexual fantasies. I pull her to her feet by her arm and push her roughly towards the steps. “If I'm going to fuck me a native girl, I want her to look the part.”