Queen of Hearts: Part 8 (Patreon)

(Warning: Depictions of racism and raceplay)


Mia felt….hot.

Sweat poured down her face as she wandered the halls of the house. She knew she was there looking for someone but every time she tried to imagine a face to focus on, she was overwhelmed with craving.

(So horny)

Her body shuddered with anticipation of sex, but there was still no indication of why or with who. She plodded barefoot through a muggy but gorgeous kitchen. Silver spoons and a pitcher of tea sat out on the counter island underneath a gorgeous wrought iron pot rack. Light filtered in from the window, but as she squinted to see outside, she was struck again.

(I need to fuck)

Feverishly, she trudged around the corner, instinctually seeking out a staircase and nearly scrambling up it on her hands and feet. Something compelled her upward in feral heat, padding heavily over damp carpet as she hunted down the lavish halls like a hound after a fugitive.

(Fuck….Cum….Breed….)

The feeling itself was intoxicating. She wondered for a moment if there was a nerve gas or some psychedelic chemical in the air being pushed in through the vents. It would make sense given how she was acting, she thought. Lust dripped over her thoughts like hot grease, growing worse and worse as the sounds of women getting fucked senseless from behind the doors of the long hall.

(I wish I were them)

Her thoughts continued on despite her actions. Mia felt like a passenger, watching from the Sunken Place as she zombie’d down the hall in search of a fat (white) cock to pamper and worship. She was calm though. Serene even as her pussy grew hot and wet with anticipation of a sexual encounter with someone she wasn’t even sure existed.

“Mmmmmm, fuck my nigger pussy daddy! Give your black bitch a white baby!” Came an impassioned voice from within one of the rooms.

Talk like that used to bother her immensely, but hearing it now only fed her fire. She knew if she ever got pregnant it would have to be from a white man. Her fixation on fair skinned partners had been gradually evolving in real time and while on some level she was aware, Mia still allowed it to grow without much effort to keep it in check.

Her growing interracial kink had graduated into a full blown raceplay fetish that was gradually spilling out into her every day life. The adoration she had for white men. The absolute revulsion she had towards black ones. The sheer amount of joy she got from feeling owned, controlled, and dominated. It was everpresent and all-consuming. Every interaction was becoming filtered by race, and she felt herself giddily allowing herself to slide into a submissive, inferior role. Black skin was simply inferior, she thought unironically. Granted, even then she stopped to remind herself that it was all a sex thing, but that didn’t stop that same sexual voice from stomping on her boundary between what was and wasn’t limited to the bedroom. Being around Trina made it worse, as the slutty Asian bimbo loved white dick as much as she did, but was even more vocal about it.

It wouldn’t be the worst to share a man with her one day, she thought casually as her hand slipped onto a doorknob and began to twist.

Mia was surrounded by the sounds of black women with southern accents and ghetto drawls shrieking their approval for their racially charged orgasms. Every room resonated with the sounds of flesh plopping and black women moaning their racial submission.

Mia opened the door and found her own face staring back at her. The woman before her was skinny with wavy black hair and bound in chains, but something in Mia’s mind knew this bound bitch was absolutely her if not a different version.

(1)

“Where mah daddy at?” The doppelganger purred sensually. “Dis bitch is horny….I need white cum in my skinny black pussy…”

The girl was clearly delirious with sexual frustration, but Mia couldn’t help but stare in admiration of her willing submissiveness.  

“….Who are you?” Mia felt herself asking, her lips moving on their own and her own voice surprising her.

The chained girl’s hand slipped into her pants as she rhythmically gyrated her hips.

“Mmm…I’m a pretty nigger….” She cooed happily.

Images began pulsing in Mia’s mind to the sound of the girl’s moaning. Hung men with heavy white dicks flashed before her eyes. She felt her mouth water and her lips reach out to each phantom image as the thoughts became all-consuming.

“I’m a good girl..” Said the dark-skinned Mia, now pumping her fingers in and out of her panties furiously.

“I’m a slave to white cock.” She said, just as she opened her eyes to see Samantha smiling down at her from the doorway.

“Mia, your time is up.” She beamed happily before returning to her desk.

Humiliated, Mia threw her clothes on as quickly as she could and washed her hands in the bathroom sink to eliminate the smell of her own sopping wet vagina from her fingers. Still, when she exited the room, Samantha only watched her brightly from her desk with a knowing smile on her face.

“Have a good day, Mia.” The short-haired blonde chimed sweetly. “Just a few more sessions and we’ll have you back in chains, cutie.”

(2)

The white girl said those words as if they meant nothing to her. Like it was simply a casual matter of fact that she thought that way and could simply say it outright. The audacity was infuriating…Or at least it should have been. Instead, Mia felt her face burn red and she ran out of the door, completely unable to bring herself to respond.

Hours later, Mia sat up on the bed, watching eagerly as her Tinder date stripped off his clothes starting from his shirt down. She could feel her body heating up in anticipation as his cock finally came into view. She’d done everything she could to give him the signals he needed to try and sleep with her, and for a moment she was worried she’d been a bit overzealous. Maybe, she thought as she languished in bed, doing her best to tantalize him with her body on display on her new, pastel pink lingerie. She’d never really considered herself to be a bimbo or even into the whole subculture, but more and more she got the feeling that that was the kind of thing white men loved and wanted to see. From there it wasn’t too hard a concession to throw a few “like”s and “totally”s into her regular speech and watch her Nicki Minaj tone turn her dates into butter. In her mind, embracing a more feminine and less obnoxiously ghetto attitude and appearance was only going to get her more attention and refine her all the more. A softer voice, more eloquent, bubbly speech, none of these things were too much to ask for, Mia rationalized. Before long she even found herself buying into the act herself and forgetting to turn off her pink voice from time to time. That too, she noticed, garnered her even more sexual attraction from her many dates.

Today’s date was evidence of that. Despite not having too much in common on a personal level, Mia could tell that her new façade was working on Tyler. Every cute giggle and flirty, dumb look seemed to catch his attention. Even if all it did was convince the guy that this would be a hookup and that she was just looking to get laid as opposed to finding her a life partner, it didn’t matter. She was still getting what she wanted.

(3)