New York City Submissive Female – Chapter 3

1987 it was. Spring.

“Can we talk about the wedding?” asked Keith.

“Of course,” said Sue, her eyes lighting up as usual at the magic word wedding.

“Why don’t you want your mother and father to come?”

Sue sighed. She loved Keith dearly. He was a kind and patient man. He treated her with affection and respect. He made love to her gently and tenderly, treating her like a person, not an object. For him, she’d given up her wild cock-sucking ways and walked the straight and narrow. When he proposed, she’d accepted without a second’s hesitation.

But god, he could be so stubborn and closed-minded sometimes!

“Keith,” she said, “you know my father beat me and my mother let him do it.”

“Why?”

“Because of the way I dressed, boys I hung out with—”

“That guy who raped you wasn’t such a great choice, was he?”

Sue felt her blood pressure rise. “Are you saying I deserved it?”

“No, of course not,” Keith sighed. “I know… I know your parents were too hard on you. But they’re still your parents. You’re twenty-six now, it’s not like your dad is going to beat you at our wedding.”

That at least was unlikely. She’d been a little dismayed at just how much her father liked Keith. He’d even warmly congratulated her on her choice of husband.

“I just…in my heart, I know I don’t want them there,” she said lamely. She couldn’t find the words to express what she felt.

“Sometimes you need to use your head, not just your heart,” replied Keith.

***

It was a fancy, expensive champagne breakfast place, complete with long tablecloths. Phil looked with trepidation at the crystal glasses and top-notch tableware, wondering if his firm would approve an expense report for this place.

“Don’t worry, sweetie. My treat,” said Sue reassuringly.

They were seated at a strangely large round table, big enough to have comfortably seated six people. They sat beside each other.

Phil had never even heard of eggs Florentine, but it was immaculate. Sue ordered some fruit-and-yogurt creation, looking at him affectionately as he ate.

“You really love to eat, don’t you?”

“Unfortunately, yes.” Phil never took drugs, didn’t smoke, seldom drank, barely even watched TV. What vices did he have, except food and sex?

He was a bit of a klutz even at the best of times, and more than once he spilled bits of food on his shirt. Giggling, Sue lifted the tablecloth over his body, like a giant napkin.

“There, now you won’t have to feed your shirt,” she said, laughing.

He rolled his eyes at her and kept eating.

“There’s something else I wanted to ask you,” said Sue.

“What?”

“How is it that you don’t want to do watersports?”

Phil nearly choked. “I thought we agreed not to do anything unsanitary.”

“Urine is sanitary,” she replied. “It’s sterile, unless you have a disease you haven’t told me about.”

“But it stinks. It’s gross.”

“Did you enjoy it when we did it online?”

“That was different.”

“Why?”

“Because it wasn’t real. I wasn’t really dirtying anyone.”

“But I like being dirty.”

“You mean that metaphorically—”

“No, I mean it literally. I revel in doing stuff that’s filthy and forbidden.”

That much was obvious from a woman who had let him walk her like a dog and licked his asshole. But Phil still hesitated.

“I can’t ask you to take a sanitary risk—”

“In the first place, it’s not a sanitary risk. It’s just something you personally find disgusting. That’s okay. In the second place, I don’t want to do it to you, I want you to do it to me. Even online, most men I talk to want the other way around, which is gross. I’d never piss on a man.”

Phil was astonished to see tears in her eyes, something he’d thought impossible for this strong and confident woman. “Please, Phil. I’ve dreamed about this for so long. I can’t explain why. But please do this for me.”

“All right. But that’s as far as it goes. No scat. No dirt. No blood. No vomit.”

“You’re the boss.”

Phil sighed and leaned back in his chair. It had been a very good breakfast. Sue’s eyes were glistening. “Are you ready for dessert?”

“Dessert? For breakfast?”

“Oh yes.” With a sudden, apparently clumsy motion, her fork and knife cluttered to the floor. “I’ll get it,” she muttered. Her eyes darted around, as if checking something.

Then she crawled under the table, disappearing under the tablecloth.

“What are you doing?” he whispered.

“Shh!” she hissed.

The tablecloth, draped almost up to his chest, let Sue undo his zipper. Now he understood why she’d chosen this particular underwear — it had buttons on the front, giving her wide access to his cock. She even tugged on his balls, pulling them out.

She had him trapped. He couldn’t stand up, couldn’t move, not without leaving his wang dangling for all the world to see. He could not see her, but he could feel her hands playing with him. The fear of getting caught was a rush, and she rode with it, her breath hot on his cock.

Her tongue was licking him now, wetting his balls, making his cock come alive—

“Will that be all, sir?” asked the waitress.

“Aaah!” Phil almost fell out of his chair, but managed to calm himself in the nick of time. Sue dived onto his cock, taking it fully in her mouth.

It took every ounce of control Phil had to speak. “Just-just-just the b-bill, please. Nnnnn….no…no rush.”

“Of course, sir.” The waitress’ cute East Asian face and slender figure were not helping matters.

“Relax!” muttered Sue.

Only then did it occur to Phil to think of Sue as his whore, his slave. Of course, she should be on her knees under the table blowing him! Of course, he could shamelessly take his pleasure there, in a public place!

He admired the waitress when she came back, grinning at her lasciviously as he felt Sue’s mouth hot on his cock.

“Could I, um, get a glass of water, please?”

“Certainly, sir.” She smiled. So did Phil.

He felt no shame at all imagining the waitress’ lips in Sue’s place. The thought made him squirm, almost hitting Sue’s head on the table.

He leaned back contentedly, closed his eyes, and felt the joy of the cum flooding into Sue’s mouth. Her head lifted off his cock. She zipped him up, and without even bothering to check, came out from under the table, her knees covered in dust.

“Dropped my fork,” she said innocently.

The waitress looked at them, an awful suspicion in her eyes. Phil quickly whipped out a twenty and handed it to her. She gave him a dirty look, but took it, walking away in a huff.

Sue laughed, the cum visible on her tongue, and swallowed.

“Best blowjob ever,” she crowed, lifting her hand to give him a high-five.

Phil didn’t know what to say. “You are the most…the most…”

Sue was practically beside herself with laughter. “The most what?”

“I’m running out of adjectives, to be honest.”

She giggled. “You ain’t seen nothin’ yet, buster,” she leered. “Tonight, you really get to dirty me.”

Phil looked at her cheerful face. He imagined that face stained, dirty, filthy with his piss. Despite having just cum, he felt his cock twitch.

“We’re going to have to be careful about this,” he said. “Everything has to be clean. We should get the maid…”

His voice trailed off as he looked speculatively at Sue. She raised an eyebrow.

“You were saying about a maid?”

“I will need the bathroom thoroughly cleaned for my, um, slave’s usage tonight. My…er…maid will need to bring some supplies.”

Sue was shaking her head, but she had an indulgent look on her face. “Fine. I know a place.” She opened her purse and took out her notepad and pen.

***

All day long, Phil’s erection kept flaring up. The sight of virtually any female skin was enough to trigger it.

He thought of Sue constantly. By going under the table she had dirtied herself, reduced her status. He found it harder to think of her as an equal partner. The words, those magic words, whore and slut and slave, took on new meaning. He thought of the defilement they were planning, and his cock squirmed in anticipation.

Even trips to the bathroom, usually memorable only for their forgettability, took on a new meaning.

***

1984 it was. Fall.

He was a handsome man, of that there was no doubt. He had the indefinable air of someone who has always been well-cared for; smooth, neatly gelled brown hair, shiny manicured nails, an impeccably groomed face. His brown eyes were bright and piercing. His was the kind of face girls were irresistibly drawn to.

Sue hated his guts.

“Miss Jones,” he said, “you have accused the defendant of raping you. Where did you meet him?” His voice dripped with cynicism and contempt.

“At a party,” she replied hotly. What was the point of this?

“And did the defendant rape you at the party?”

“No, it was… it was behind a dumpster.”

Some idiot snickered. Sensing his advantage, the lawyer drove in.

“Did the defendant point a gun to your head and get you to the dumpster?” Sue could see the smiles around the room.

“He put something in my drink,” she said stubbornly.

“And what was that?” Still that smile. That maddening smile.

“I…I don’t know,” she said helplessly.

At the hospital, they’d simply assumed she was drunk, and no one had thought to gather evidence for a rape case.