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Image for the poem Chapter 4 part 7 A Submissive Female of New York City

Chapter 4 part 7 A Submissive Female of New York City

Chapter 4 part 7
A Submissive Female of New York City

This floor is dirty, you stupid slut. I told you to keep it clean.

She didn't miss a beat. "Then I must clean it, my lord."

Many times had Sue shocked him with the depth of her depravity. But he still couldn't believe that she would bend down and casually lick his piss off the floor, as if it were ice cream. Every so often she'd look up to give him the same sly smile. Phil's eyes went wide. He had to hold onto the towel bar to steady himself.

"I... I can't believe you're doing this."

"I love it, master." And, indeed, she was fingering her clit as she did it.

"You have done... you are extraordinary, slave."

"Your slave lives to please you, sire."

"The... the toilet is also dirty."

The light bulb clicked on in Sue's eyes. She turned back to the toilet and began to lick the rim.

Phil thought he had never seen a more beautiful sight. Sue's urine-soaked body, naked and chained, licking his piss off the rim of a toilet while fondling her clit. She looked up at him, eyes meeting his, sparkling as she slowly dragged her tongue on the filthy surface.

His slave was a slut in the real sense of the word, someone who has taken the laws of a culture and found them wanting, who rebels against the strictures society has laid down. She was her own woman, a woman who did exactly as she pleased, without restraint, without judgment, without fear.

There was something special, even sacred, about her devotion to an idea, even an idea as perverted as this. It was devotion so strong that it would break any barrier, cross any boundary. Phil felt awed and humbled to be able to share this moment with her.

After she finished the rim, Sue began licking the sides of the toilet, the front, even the floor right beside the edge. Many people are reluctant to clean these regions even with a sponge, though Sue already had. The sight of her tongue down there was more than Phil could bear.

Sue looked up at her master to give one of her bawdy grins but was astonished to see tears flowing down his face.

"Why are you crying?"

"Because I'm so happy... so happy... I never... never thought I would ever see this..."

Tears appeared in Sue's eyes as well. "You don't know, master, how long I've waited for someone who would do this with me. You don't know how good this feels. How... how right it feels. This is me. This is who I am."

She licked the filthiest part of the toilet, the cap on the screw that holds it in place. Touching herself all this while, she moaned again as her body began to vibrate and shake with orgasm. Phil staggered forward, his cock thrusting, desperate for release into this goddess.

"Oh, master," she murmured. "I can't wait for you to fuck me."

"Your cunt is not getting my cock today, bitch."

At that, Sue looked taken aback. "Please, master. Please. Please fuck me."

"I want your ass," Phil replied.

Sue's eyes lit up. "I will need to use the toilet the way it's usually used," she snickered. "In fact, maybe I should clean this room first, with, um, conventional means. And then I can bathe myself."

Phil removed the chains but left the leash on. He gave her the extra toothbrush and mouthwash they'd bought.

Conveniently, the floor had a drain, so she pointed the shower on the floor to get rid of the remaining piss. She then carefully spread the disinfectant mix on the floor and scrubbed it clean.

She pointedly glanced at the door, and Phil left the bathroom, his heart still pounding.

It is a truth universally acknowledged that a man in the company of a woman must be required to wait while she is in the bathroom.

He tried to calm himself down, thinking of the forbidden nature of anal sex. Wasn't it illegal in many parts of the country? All his life he had heard revulsion at the idea. It was that revulsion, more than any other feeling, that drove homophobia. He knew men who were driven to fury at the idea of gay male relationships, a fury born of the horror of the anus and all it represented.

Phil had never dared try anal sex. Fewer than a third of prostitutes offered the service, and they charged a hefty premium. Nor did it feature much in the porn he watched, dominated by blowjobs.

Funny how that is, isn't it? Porn is no preparation for real sex, not even with Sue, who really had the personality porn stars only pretend to have.

Sue crawled out of the bathroom on her hands and knees, a tube in her mouth. When she reached him, she dropped it and started licking his cock affectionately, licking until he was fully hard again. Then she picked up the bottle. Coco care 100% Coconut Oil, read the label.

"I will not be able to suck master's dick after I put this on," she warned.

"P-proceed, s-slut."

She began spreading the oil on his cock. It did not feel all that different from the baby oil masseuses used, but it smelled much better, a warm, tasty scent.

She looked straight into his eyes as she gently lubed him up. He wished to god he'd had someone like Sue, not so much a lover as a teacher and friend, when he had lost his virginity.

Sue offered Phil the leash, and he followed her to the bed.

"How does master wish to use me?" she asked.

Phil shoved her onto the bed, flat on her stomach. Then he could not help it, her ass was so cute and inviting, he started to kiss it. It felt so soft, so pliable, it was like kissing a pillow. He could not go near the crack, decked out as it was in coconut oil, but the intoxicating smell filled his nostrils.

"You promise your asshole is entirely clean, whore?" he asked nervously.

"As clean as yours when I licked it, master," she replied sweetly.

With the same reluctance a new father shows changing diapers, Phil started to insert his little finger up her ass.

"Ohhhh," she moaned.

"How does that feel, slut?"

"Love you invading me, master."

That thought excited him — that, with the possession of her ass, every hole of hers that he could enter would have been entered. If the male is defined by his cock, that protrusion that extends outside him, the female is defined not by an organ but by the lack of an organ, by a space, a void that it falls to male to fill. Thus is a female an extension of the male, a thing, a possession, someone to be owned, guarded, even sold. Such has been the literature of man, written by men, throughout history. Phil no longer tried to fight the ancient sexism. He reveled in it.

He pulled out his hand and showed it to Sue. "That was this," he said, holding up the little finger. "Now this." He raised the middle finger, giving Sue the ugly symbol of rudeness.

She only smiled. "I'm yours, master."

He slowly pushed his finger into the tight opening, trying to suppress thoughts of the interior. It slid in easily against the soft oil. There wasn't the wiggle room the cunt had — he could only go in and out.

Sue was moaning, sighing with pleasure. She snuck her hand to her cunt region and began stroking it.

Suddenly he pulled out.

"I want your ass now, whore."

He lay down on his back.

"Face me."

Sue obeyed, squatting over him, still touching her clit.

Would the ass be impossibly tight, even painful? It was not. It felt like putting on a condom, albeit a rather heavy one.

Then he was in — in! He was there, in the filthiest of places. It was a total, overpowering sensation, but what made Phil tingle the most was the defiance behind it.

And Sue! The only woman Phil had ever seen orgasm, the only woman to stare at him with raw animal lust, to think he was beautiful. She loved it when he degraded and abused her, all the things he had believed wrong. She enjoyed being objectified. And now she was masturbating with his dick up her ass. Phil lay there, passively, aroused almost as much by the fierce desire on Sue's face as the feel of her ass on his cock. He slapped her hand away and lunged for her clit with his left hand.

"Are you my property, bitch?"

"Yes! Yes!"

"I'm going to fuck you like an animal up your ass. I'm going to use you like a whore."

"Yes! Use me! Abuse me!"

And it was then that Phil thrust his own hips, no longer caring about hurting her, just energized, impassioned, by the hunger in her eyes, the jungle passion, the call of the wild that had unleashed the fires of his id. That wrenching tightness enveloped him like a glove, harsh and gripping, driving him in deeper. She was screaming, she was shaking, he felt his seed roaring into her rear, he felt his head spinning as his cum flowed. Their bodies were moving in unison—

"Keith! Keith! Fuck me, fuck me, fuck me!

To be continued
Written by nutbuster (D C)
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