At her desk at work Erica pondered who could exploit and use her and her daughters in the way that they deserved. Her previous masters although satisfying to a degree, did not, or could not completely dominate them systematically; Erica required someone to whom they would belong to, she needed to be property and it needed to be complete; she was prepared now to fully surrender herself and her pretty daughters Karen and Amanda’s lives to a master. No half measures, only this way could they be truly happy.
She thought of Tyrel Jones, their black neighbour. The notion of her and the girls as white slaves was incredibly erotic; she considered the crimes her ancestors had inflicted upon his and she concluded that it was beyond doubt that as a white family they were still benefiting from the privileged standing that resulted from racism, prejudice and discrimination against black people.
Erica admonished herself for previously expecting a master to approach them. It was his decision on how he obtained them and as he had not yet approached them, plainly they had to approach him and beg him to take control of three white slaves.
Erica went to the ladies restroom to text her daughters, advising them of her designs on Tyrel Jones, and also to sit on the toilet seat, slide her fingers under her (black, how significant she thought) panties and on her clit, close her eyes and dream of kissing her master’s feet.
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