Chapter 4 part 3 A Submissive Female of New York City

 
Chapter 4 part 3
A Submissive Female of New York City

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 and 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 nothing' 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 forget ability, 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. By the time she was conscious, there was no longer any trace of any chemical in her system. They had checked her vagina for foreign DNA, but not found any.

"And you saw him put something in your drink, did you?"

"No, but the beer he gave me wasn't the same brand everyone else was drinking at the party—"

"Everyone else?" The lawyer seemed ready to rise to the ceiling.

It was a college campus, of course, and most students on a campus are not of legal drinking age. Sue had just admitted to an illegal activity. She looked at the faces of the jury and saw not an ounce of sympathy.

"So did you, pass out at this party? Did the defendant drag you out to rape you?"

"I..." What could she say? She fought back the fear racing inside her, the sinking feeling of despair.

The lawyer's wolfish grin grew wider.

Wasn't it true that you kissed the defendant at the party? That you were seen leaving the party hand in hand?

"I did not give him consent to—"

"Your Honor, I would like to remind the witness that she may only answer the question asked," he said calmly.

The judge, eyes cold as ice, sat there, grim-faced, prim and proper with all the authority of the state behind him. The court reminds the witness, he snapped, that she may only answer the question as put to her.

To be continued