A Day in the Life of My Sub Slut Ch. 03

In chapters 1 and 2, my slut Elaine and I go for a ride. At my direction, she submits to oral, anal and vaginal sex at a diner and a truck stop, on a park bench, and in a sex toy store. Along the way, she fingers herself in the car (a chargeable violation, it turns out!) and submits to a horny cop. It's almost time for dinner. Again, this is a work of fiction and, although based on a real slut, these events did not necessarily happen in real life.

*

As we cruise down the highway in the convertible, wind in our hair, I look over at my slut in the passenger seat. Our friend James at the sex store did well -- Elaine's sizeable tits jut out obscenely on top of the shelf bra, tenting the flimsy, short black top and revealing a good six inches of cleavage, with jiggling flesh on either side. She is still wearing the ultra-short spandex "skirt", which, when she is seated, does nothing to conceal her naked thighs all the way up to the vee of her crotch. Her garter straps are stretched taut on her nude seamed stockings. She has repaired her makeup -- heavy eyeshadow, shading from blue-black just above her long false eyelashes, to sky blue, then silver under her dark eyebrows. Topping off the eyeshadow is a sprinkling of silver sparkles. On her cheeks, just a hint of blush, and on her lips, a lipstick that I like to think of as Cocksucker Red. Nice. We'll need to make some adjustments for dinner, but that can come later.

And speaking of coming... "Slut, spread your legs for me. Wider. That's good. Now play with your cunt."

"But, Master, the policeman said I shouldn't play with myself in a moving vehicle."

"Do you see a policeman here?"

"No, master."

"Then do as I say. You know you want to. It's been nearly an hour since you had an orgasm."

With a soft sigh, Elaine lowers one hand to her still-wet cunt and begins rubbing. The sigh turns to a moan and her fingers move faster over her clit.

"Take off your top... Now squeeze and pull your nipples... Harder." Her nipples harden and begin to elongate, projecting even further out from her horizontal tits above the shelf bra. As she becomes lost in the pleasure/pain of her fingers on her cunt and nipples, I pull alongside a beat-up pickup truck driven by a redneck, with bumper stickers that say things like, "Support Gun Control -- Criminals Prefer Unarmed Victims" and simply, "Pro Gun" with a picture of a pistol. The driver glances over, then does a double-take. He is staring down at a beautiful blonde with one leg up on the dashboard, the other in the driver's lap, furiously pulling on the extended nipples of her oversized tits and rubbing her naked cunt. He gives me a thumbs-up, then makes a jerking-off motion with his hand and opens his mouth in a big "O". I smile, return the thumbs-up, and, making sure Elaine looks up and sees the leering redneck, keep pace with the truck for a few more miles. Judging by the blur of her fingers on her cunt and the extent to which she is stretching her aching nipples, being seen in this humiliating position clearly excites her. I give the redneck one last wave, then press the accelerator and pull away. I feel good. We have just made someone else's day. Without getting arrested or shot.

By now, Elaine is gasping for breath, driving three fingers deep into her needy cunt. When she gets excited, she likes to really fingerfuck herself -- not just rubbing her clit, but using her fingers like a cock, as deep in her cunt as they will go. I can hear the wet, squelching sounds of fingers in her fuckhole over the highway noise. And her moaning, "oh, oh, oh...oh, god! Yes, yes, yes...oooh, oooh, oh, ah, ohhhhhh... oh, Master, can I cum? Can I cum??!"

"No, not yet. Stop playing with yourself."

"Oh, please, Master, please!! I really need to cum!!"

"NO. I said to stop, now stop." She reluctantly withdraws her fingers from her dripping hole. "You can't just cum whenever you want to, you slutty whore. If you could, you would have your hand up your cunt all day long! Show a little decency, you filthy slut. Now get your legs down and see if you can keep your fingers off your cunt for a few miles. We're almost to the restaurant where we're having dinner." Eyes downcast, the chastened slut brings her legs down and sits upright in the passenger seat, squirming on the cushion, obviously hoping that a little friction against the leather seat will bring the relief she craves. I chuckle at this hopeless effort.

We are in fact almost to the restaurant I have chosen for dinner. As the sun is beginning to fade in the west, I pull into the parking lot of the Starlight Lounge. The Starlight has been here forever. It shows its age a bit, in the worn ornate woodwork and frayed chair upholstery, but I love the place. Its art deco décor harkens back to the 30s, when movie stars in tuxedoes and top hats whisked elegant ladies in floor-length evening gowns across the dance floor. The Starlight's clientele no longer wears tuxedoes or evening gowns, but there is a dance floor, and a stage for the occasional live band.

"Change into your other skirt, slut. This place doesn't allow whores in. Sluts are OK, but not whores. And more glitter on your eyelids and mascara on your eyelashes." As she hastens to comply with my makeup demands, I open the trunk and take out a dinner jacket, then come around and open the passenger door and hand her her skirt. As she looks around uncertainly, I say, "What are you waiting for, Cunt? Change your skirt." "Right here in the parking lot?" "Well, where else? This restaurant doesn't have a changing room." Still looking around nervously, she slips down the spandex band, totally baring her cunt and ass, and throws it into the car. She struggles into the slightly longer one and adjusts it as she stands up straight for inspection. "Roll it up a couple of turns at the waist. There... that's good." Nodding my approval, I take her hand and start striding briskly toward the door. Elaine struggles to keep up, her spike heels wobbling erratically in the gravel of the parking lot, threatening at any moment to throw her headlong onto the rough surface. I am, in truth, more eager to get back to one of my favorite night spots than I am to see that she gets there safely.

The place is just as I remember it always has been -- fluted columns support a circular vaulted ceiling in the center of the spacious room, its light grey painted surface adorned with silhouettes of flying cherubs with trumpets (not sure what that represents, but there they are!). The walls are the same light grey, with silhouettes in darker grey of dashing gentlemen and slender ladies with bobbed hairdos, raising martini glasses. Round tables with long white tablecloths surround the dance floor. And we are in luck tonight. There is a small live band -- piano, drummer, trumpet, and clarinet/saxophone -- playing 40s pop tunes. A singer in a low-cut, tight-fitting red sequined floor-length gown sings the slow songs in a voice that ranges from a sexy whisper to a throaty growl. As Elaine takes in the scene, her eyes widen and she inhales sharply. My god, he's taking me somewhere nice! I was expecting another diner! I wonder what he has planned...

I smile and escort her to her seat at a table at the edge of the dance floor. The eyes of the men at the few occupied tables follow this scantily clad slut as she makes her way through the tables, her exposed tits jiggling invitingly, their wives in conservative dress glaring at them. A waiter appears and I order two flutes of champagne, which we sip as we listen to the music. The waiter returns and I order. A filet mignon, medium rare, with a side of asparagus, and a glass of 2004 Cote du Rhone for me, a shrimp salad and another flute of champagne for Elaine. She smiles her appreciation for getting something more filling than her usual lettuce salad.

We eat, we listen to the music, I have a delicious crème brulee for dessert, and then I rise from my chair and taking Elaine by the hand, lead her onto the dance floor. The place has begun to fill up with an after-dinner crowd from other places and there are already a few couples on the floor. I pull Elaine close to me and my hand slides down from her back to her ample ass, squeezing and stroking the flesh through her short skirt. Then up across an expanse of naked belly and under her short black top. I begin squeezing and twisting her nipples. She moans softly in my ear. She can feel the stares of men on the floor and at nearby tables, for whom what I'm doing is all too obvious. She doesn't care. She is a sub slut and this is what is expected of her. She gave up caring a long time ago, in exchange for the constant sexual excitation and body-shaking orgasms.

My hand slides back down, coming to rest in her crotch, pressing against her cunt through the fabric of her short skirt. Her moaning becomes more audible as I rub up and down. I can feel her wetness start to seep through the thin material. I decide that's enough for now, withdraw my hand, and lead Elaine off the dance floor. She is clearly disappointed, but follows obediently. Back at the table, I withdraw a Montecristo No. 2 from my jacket pocket, clip off the end, and light it. I inhale the aromatic smoke and sigh. There's nothing like a good cigar after a great dinner! (OK, in case you're are wondering, we are in Virginia, where you can smoke any tobacco product anywhere, especially in exurban night clubs where the owner is on good terms with the county commissioner!)

As the ash begins to grow on my cigar, a handsome gentleman with salt and pepper hair in a dark suit approaches our table. I had noticed him earlier, when Elaine and I were on the dance floor, sitting at a table on the edge of the dance floor, across from a mousy little woman in a plain, high-necked -- but obviously expensive -- gown, who was trying hard to ignore the fact that her husband was ogling an indecently dressed slut whose dance partner was taking obscene liberties with her.

"May I have the pleasure of a dance with your beautiful young lady", he asks me directly, without even looking at her. It is clear that he is asking my permission, not hers. I smile and nod my assent, and he extends his hand toward her, with a slight courtly bow. Elaine looks at me for confirmation, then dutifully takes his hand, rises from her chair and lets him escort her to the dance floor. The band is playing another slow song, the singer is breathing the lyrics into the microphone, and the silver fox pulls Elaine tightly against him. His hand goes up under her top to see what I had been so interested in. It stays there for a while. He is clearly exploring not only her large tits and extended nipples, but also this interesting device that is holding them up at such an impossible angle. I'm sure he's thinking, I wish my wife had tits like this! God, what I gave up when I married for money! His momentary regret doesn't stop him from exploring further, though. His hand is now between her legs, one finger beginning to creep below the hem of her skirt. The hem rises obligingly and his middle finger is now against her wet slit. Elaine inhales sharply and begins to breath heavily. Encouraged, he slips his finger deeper and begins massaging the inside of her cuntlips. I look over at his wife. She is trying not to show that she wants to see what her perverted husband is doing to this filthy slut right out on the dance floor in front of dozens of people. Just as he begins to pump two fingers into Elaine's twat, the song ends and he regretfully withdraws his sticky fingers, lifts them to his nose and inhales deeply, then sighs and escorts Elaine back to our table.

"Your lady..."

"Her name is Cunt."

"Ah. Well, Cunt is a wonderful dancer. I thank you for the pleasure."

"The pleasure was all mine. Well...maybe not all mine, but I did enjoy watching you."

"Would you care to join my wife and I at our table? Perhaps you could tell me about that delightful cigar you are smoking."

"Only if you will agree to try one and let me put the after-dinner drinks on my tab."

"Done." We introduce ourselves (his name is Martin) and make our way to his table, where his wife is staring at her hands folded in her lap.

"This is my wife Alice. Alice, say hello to Lawrence and Cunt. They are going to join us." Alice mumbles a greeting, barely lifting her eyes, and we sit down, Martin and I on either side of Elaine. I tell Martin about the cigars I brought back from Cuba and offer him one, which he graciously accepts and lights.

He takes a long draught and says, "Mmmmm. I'm probably being disloyal to my native Virginia, but this is possibly the best smoke I've ever tasted!". I decide not to make a comment about Castro doing something right and instead solicit his advice on the after-dinner liqueurs on the menu. As we are having this exchange, my hand is on Elaine's inner thigh, gently spreading it toward me as my fingers creep across the smooth, warm flesh above her stocking. When I reach the wet junction of her widespread legs, I find that there is a hand there already. Being a gentleman, I let Martin have the first use of her cunt. And Martin being a gentleman, he plays with it briefly, then relinquishes it so that I can have a turn. As we talk, we alternate rubbing her dripping cunt. We aren't at the right angle to give her a proper finger-fucking, so we settle for just massaging her clit, bringing her repeatedly to the brink of orgasm, then backing off. We gauge her state of arousal by her heavy breathing, which must also clearly telegraph to Alice what is going on under the table. She pretends not to notice. Martin has clearly done this kind of thing before, and I'm guessing that he often did it in front of his wife -- she has gotten very good at ignoring what is going on right in front of her nose.

We sip our drinks, smoke our cigars, chat about how Havana has changed over the years, and bring Elaine to a climax that she tries, unsuccessfully, to make a quiet one. I half expect to hear some woman say, "I'll have what she's having". Fortunately, the band is playing an upbeat song, and her moans and cries are lost on everyone except her tablemates -- including (especially?) Alice, who tries to ignore that, too. I announce that we really have to leave. Martin protests that we should stay -- he knows a really good after-hours jazz club where we can get some weed or blow.

"No, no. You are very gracious, but we do have to go. I promised Cunt that I would take her to a movie tonight, and then we have a long drive home. I don't want to be high if I'm stopped by the cops." I wink at Elaine, who almost cums again thinking about her last encounter with the police. At the mention of "movie", I get a quizzical look from both Martin and Elaine -- he thinks it's an odd way to end an evening, and this is the first she's heard of it.

"Well, if I can't persuade you, let us at least walk you to your car and say good-night properly."

"Oh, that's not necessary."

"Yes, I insist"

"Well, I'm parked around back. It was the only place I could find a spot."

"That's fine. Alice, come. We are walking this lovely couple to their car." Alice arises dutifully and as she does, I realized that she was as much a sub as Elaine, just not as much of a slut. Or at least she doesn't dress or act like a slut. I am sure she would do anything Martin required, though, sexual or not. We walk out to the parking lot and find the Beemer where I left it, in the corner of the lot under a weakly glowing light.

"I was serious about giving you a proper good-bye. Alice, since this gentleman was so generous with his cigars and after-dinner drinks, I think you should give him a nice thank-you. Don't look at me that way. You know what I mean."

"Oh, Martin, please!", she pleads.

"You heard what I said. Get down and thank him." Alice grudgingly complies, getting down on her knees in front of me. She unzips my pants and withdraws my semi-hard cock and takes it in her mouth.

"Well, Martin. That's very generous of you. The least I can do is reciprocate. I'm sure you would like to explore that slutty snatch that you got a bare taste of over dinner. Cunt, bend over the hood of the car and pull your skirt so that this nice gentleman can use your horny cunt." She complies without a word. Martin steps up behind her and starts to massage her already excited pussy. His fingers slip up and down her cuntlips, lingering on her clit to massage it, then on up to her nether hole, smearing cunt juice over it and probing it with one digit.

"Mmmmm. What a nice wet cunt. And what a compliant sub! Alice, you could take some lessons from this one. You know what, I think this is a good time for one of those lessons. Get your ass up here and bend over this hood beside Cunt. We're going to let this gentleman explore your worthless cunt. You're a lousy cocksucker -- maybe he'll like your dirty hole better."

"Martin! Please! No!"

"You will do what I say, bitch -- excuse the language, folks -- or do I have to take the strap out tonight?" Alice whimpers, clearly remembering the sting of the strap, and finally obeys. "That's right. See how easy that was? Now pull up your dress and pull down your panties." She hesitates, then thinking about that strap again, complies. "That's right. Good girl. You know you like to be fucked, no matter whose cock it is. You're just too uptight to admit it."

By now, Martin has a forefinger up Elaine's ass as far as it will go and three others deep in her cunt. He is pumping them in and out, and Elaine is breathing hard and moaning. I contemplate the naked ass before me. Not bad if you like them small, and the thighs are surprisingly shapely, although they don't compare to Elaine's plump ass and thighs. Oh, well -- beggars can't be choosers, as my mother would say. With my left hand, I stroke her thighs and cunt, and gently spread her legs wider. With my right, I stroke my cock. She really is a lousy cocksucker -- she never really got me hard. As my fingers begin to focus on Alice's vagina, I am surprised to see that it is becoming wet and she is breathing harder. So. There is some life in this rich bitch after all! She is starting to enjoy this! I slip a finger into her cunt and slowly work it back and forth. I am rewarded with a gasp and heavy breathing. I slip another finger in and pick up the pace.

"Ah, ah, ah...oh, yes...yes, yes, yes!...oh, that feels good!"

I pump harder and faster, and Alice moans and cries harder. I briefly stick my index finger into her cunt, just to lubricate it, then move it up to her asshole. She really is a tight-ass bitch! It takes a lot of massaging her puckered hole and pumping two fingers in her cunt, plus a little spit, to get even one finger up her ass.

"AAAAGGGH!! Oh, god, god god!"

I wasn't sure whether that meant, "stop, it hurts like hell", or "oh, god, that feels good, keep doing it." Either way, I keep fingering her now-dripping cunt and moving my finger around in her tight ass. She is now vocalizing incessantly.

"Ooooh...ah....yes, yes, yes....ah, ah, ah....yes, please! I need to cum..." I consider that statement and decide that this cunt gets what she wants too much of the time. I pull my fingers out of her and stand back, stroking my cock and watching her little ass bounce as she wriggles and screams and cries out for her desperately needed cum. When I think she might faint from sheer exhaustion, I step forward and press the head of my cock against her slippery cuntlips. With one strong push, I bury it to the hilt in the needy snatch. "OH, YES, YES, YES... Fuck me! Fuck me hard...I need it so bad!" I have just discovered the best thing about this rich bitch -- her cunt is REALLY tight! It's like fucking a 13-year-old (not that I've ever done that, but metaphorically...). Her pleading notwithstanding, it actually feels better on my cock if I go in and out slowly. So that's what I do, teasing and frustrating her. Wow, this is nothing like Elaine's loose, worn-out cunt...