You are an assistant to your Indian boss. You hold a certain deep-seated racism toward Indians based on stereotypes, and your boss does not help the matter. Everything about him disgusts you—his looks, his personal views towards women, etc. You find it beneath you that you have to work for such a person. But you are desperate to keep the job to support yourself.

As you find it difficult to make ends meet, you have been quietly embezzling money from the company. You are almost convinced you will never be found out. While on a work trip, later one evening, your boss comes to your hotel room, saying he needs to speak to you urgently. Initially resistant to letting me into the room, you relent as I tell you the urgency and it’s for your best interest.

I enter the room and begin to make myself overly comfortable. I sit in the armchair very casually with a cold smirk on my face. “You white girls really think you’re smart, huh?” You’re taken aback by the comment, as you begin to retort. I throw an opened folder of financial records on the table. “Did you really think you wouldn’t get caught, you dumb bitch?” Your heart sinks as you realize you have been caught and the gravity of the consequences. Your eyes begin to well up, and you try to fight back tears. “I’m so sorry! I can’t lose this job!” You cry out. “Your job? You’re going to jail! I’m going to make sure the company prosecuted you fully!”

The gravity of everything is hitting you all at once. You can’t hold back your emotions as you begin to sob uncontrollably. I casually get up and begin to walk towards you. “You know it just might be your luck that I’m the one who found this and not someone else.” I say with an evil grin on my face. “I can maybe make this go away. But it would require extra duties on your part”. “Omg really?” You exclaim. “I’ll do anything please!” I place my hand over your cheek and run my thumb down it. “Anything huh? That’s good.”

You slap my hand away in anger and angrily say “don’t touch me!” I slap you back across the face and you fall to the ground. “You don’t get it, do you, stupid white bitch! I own you now!” You fill with fear as the realization of what may happen comes to you. You begin to beg and plead for mercy. I laugh. “I am showing you mercy…you’ll learn that soon enough. Get up and stop crying”. I turn around back to the armchair as you get up and try to hold back your tears. As I settle into the chair, I start to grab myself over my pants and lick my lips like I’m getting ready to eat my prey. You stand there, make-up smeared, holding back tears. “Dance for me,” I say. Stunned, you try to stammer back. “What?” I get back up and slap you across the face again. “What part of I own you don’t you understand? Let me spell this out for you. Your sweet white ass belongs to me now. If I say jump, you jump! So you’re gonna dance for me then you’re going to suck my cock like the dirty white whore you are! After that, I’m going to fuck you and you’re going to be grateful for it!”