New York City Submissive Female

He slapped her.

"Your slut."

Another slap.

"Your whore. Your cunt. Your bitch. Your property. Your toy."

He slapped her after each statement, then contemptuously spat on her, twice. Each spit made his cock thrust forward, desperate to have its share of the abuse. But nothing seemed to faze Sue. Nothing could break that look of bliss on her spit-soaked face.

He took a Sharpie he'd brought from the office. Uncapping it, he shoved it under her nose, letting her inhale the strong odor.

"I'm going to mark you, you stupid white cunt. Mark you as mine."

"Yes, my lord."

He scrawled obscenities on her skin, slapping her hands away from her cunt when they got in his way.

"Go look in the mirror, bitch. See what you've become."

She spent so much time at the mirror, admiring herself, that he had to order her back sharply.

"Do you have a camera, master?"

Phil had not thought to bring one.

"I have one, master."

It was a film camera, but the thought of some darkroom staffer seeing the shots made him feel even more prideful.

She had thirty-six shots on her film roll, and Phil took them all, using the mirror as a guide. Standing nude and haughty in her chains. Pointing with a sneer at the filthy words written on her. The spit dripping down her face. Kissing the whip. Holding a dog bone in her mouth. Bending over the dog bowl. Lying spread-eagled on the floor. Kneeling under him licking his balls. Close-ups of his cock in her mouth, her tongue up his asshole, her body bent over to kiss his feet, his fist pressed on her stomach, his hand appearing to slap her face, his foot on her ass, her cheek on the floor, his foot apparently stepping on her.

"I should have brought more film," she sighed. "We should have taken me drinking your piss."

At that memory, Phil tossed the camera on the suitcase. He let her stroke her clit a little while he slapped and spit on her, but the beast in him was out, would brook no opposition, no delay. He shoved her on the bed, pushing her brutally towards the wall. She spread her legs wide, and he chained her in the X shape.

Sue was helpless, horny, unable to move, her cunt dripping, her face also descended into primeval emotions. Hers was not a drive to possess but to be possessed, to be the fertile ground for the invader, the prize to be won. She wanted to be bullied, to be broken, to be rent asunder, to give herself away, again and again and again.

"Rape me, master," she begged. "Hurt me. Take me. Abuse me. Don't hold back. Please."

The time for sensitive foreplay and tenderness was past. Making love is about love. Fucking is about lust. Rape is about power. It is the powerless — or, perhaps more important, those who think they are powerless — who hunger for power, a power they feel has been denied all their lives. The bitter resentment of years of rejection and indifference had taken its toll on Phil, a lifetime of inadequacy, of guilt, of shame and rage and pain.

The cock has no muscle of its own. It is guided only by feelings. It was power that Phil felt as he plowed into Sue's defenseless body. It was power that he felt as he thrust into her with all the force he could muster. It was a power that she had freely given him, true, but that made it only the more delicious, the more sweet. He kept slapping her, spitting on her, punching her, crushing her under his large weight, using her.

Phil's thrusts were an act of ideology, even of religion. By raping Sue he was rejecting all he had been told, all he had once believed, about what was right and wrong about sexuality.

All Phil could sense were the waves of passion, waves of joy. He reached out for the one he tried to destroy, but she, she was writhing like it was the end of the world. His ears were ringing. Sue's screams, her cries of pain, her maniacal climaxes — all failed to register. Phil knew only the pulse racing through him, the pounding of his heart, the frenzied rush of his body.

He was taking her —

— she was his, his fuck toy, his property —

— beneath him, totally beneath him —

— god, oh god, did this feel good —

— yes —

— yes —

— cunt —

— slut —

— whore —

Chapter 7

Phil's load was shot, his passion spent. He rolled off. As if waking from a dream, he remembered who he was, where he was.

"Sue! Sue! Are you all right? Oh god. Oh god. Sue?"

"I'm fine, master," she said in a weak voice.

"Are you okay? Are you hurt?"

"I'm wonderful, master," she said, feebly, her breath heaving. "Thank you so much."

Quickly, he undid her chains.

"Hold me, master," she asked.

He took her in his arms and held her for a while. "I think you can stop calling me 'master' now."

Sue said nothing, but lay there, an exhausted but satisfied look on her face.

"This week has been one of the most wonderful I've had in a very long time," she said at last, "and tonight was the best of all."

"Being with you has been a dream come true for me, too. I've never felt so safe with a woman before."

She stroked his face. "I'm really going to miss you, Phil. I feel so liberated with you. So alive. Like I can finally be myself, be true to who I am. But you need a real girlfriend. Someone younger. Someone who really loves you, in the way I can't."

"Nobody will—"

"Don't talk like that," said Sue sternly. "I know you have issues. Everyone has issues. But I also know that a mind capable of conceiving all this, a mind of such imagination and courage, is also a mind capable of working through his issues. You will find that special girl. I know you will. You deserve it."

She got up stiffly, and over his objections packed for him, lovingly putting the chains, leash, cuffs, and dog bone in his suitcase.

"Are you sure you don't want to keep any of that stuff?"

"I wish I could. I wish to God I could. But Keith would never go for it. I don't even know what I'm going to tell him about tonight. He's bound to figure it out eventually."

She sighed. "I hate all this lying, and sneaking around, and hiding. The best part about being with you is that I can say exactly what I really think, and you do the same with me."

She kissed him and looked longingly at his cock. "Whoever gets to suck that cock is a lucky girl indeed. Don't ever settle for anything less. I'll see you in the morning, honey." Her voice cracked. "I love you, baby. You know that, right? Only as a friend, but I do love you."

"I love you too, Sue."

***

"Hi, you're awake," said Sue into her phone.

"I'll be home in about half an hour."

"Yes."

"Stay up, I have something important we need to talk about."

"No, it has to be tonight."

"Okay."

"Bye."

***

"What was so important it couldn't wait?" asked Keith.

Sue looked at him proudly. "There is something I've done that you will not like. Something that was very wrong, but that I thoroughly enjoyed."

Keith looked crestfallen. "Are you...are you..."

"Yes, Keith. I've had an affair."

"So... all those late nights at the office... you were actually—"

"It was a guy I talk to online. He was visiting New York this week, and—"

"Why would you betray me like that?" asked Keith, his face twisted in pain and hurt. "What have I done? What makes this man better than me?"

"I never said he was better—"

"So why did you have an affair with him then?"

"He did things to me that I've always wanted," Sue said heatedly.

"Like what?"

Defiantly, Sue stripped off her clothes, ignoring Keith's sputtering. There, in the dark magic marker, lay the words Phil had written on her body. Bitch above her breasts. Cunt on her waistline. Whore on her stomach. Slut on her thigh. Toy on her other thigh. She turned around and on her ass were the words Male Property. It would have taken rubbing alcohol to get the ink stains out.

Normally, Keith would have been very aroused at seeing Sue nude, but he was too wounded and angry for that. "What on earth is this? Did he rape you?"

"No! I asked him to write these things on me."

"How... how could you possibly want that?"

"Do you want to know what else?" Sue bored on relentlessly. "He fucked me up the ass, Keith. I drank his cum. He chained me up. He walked me like a dog. He slapped me. He whipped me. He beat me. He spat on me—"

"What kind of sick pervert—"

"And he pissed on me, Keith. You know what else? I loved it. I loved being beaten. Spat on. Pissed on. I drank his piss. I gulped it down. I licked it off the toilet. I licked it off the floor."

Keith was staring at her as if he'd never seen her before. "What... what... why would you do that? What kind of animal is this guy—"

"A guy who listens, Keith. He didn't want to do it at first. But he did it because I asked him to. He listened. And do you know what? I had more orgasms with him in one week than I've had with you in the past year!"

Keith felt his mind spinning. Sue? His Sue? The woman who had shared his life and his dreams for nearly twenty years?

He thought of the trip to Rome they'd taken together, how she'd comforted him after his wallet had been pickpocketed. He thought of the time his mother had keeled over with a heart attack, how Sue was galvanized into action, how she had been the rock he had depended on. Many were the times they had made love peacefully together, and now—

"Is that just it for us, then?"

"Keith, please—"

"You've found your Lothario, and you're just going to throw me out?"

"No!"

"Have I been a bad husband? Did I fail to take out the garbage? Did I leave the toilet seat up too often?"

"No!" shouted Sue. "You're a wonderful husband! It's just that there were things I wanted, wanted so badly, and I couldn't—"

"That's what you care about? The sex? If I'm that bad at it, why are you even with me anymore?"

"Because, god dammit, because I'm in love with you!" Sue snarled, voice shaking with emotion.

Then she cracked, and shattered. Breaking into hysterical tears, she sank to the floor, pounding her fists on the carpet in impotent rage.

"I messed up, Keith," she sobbed. "I'm sorry. I'm so sorry. I love you so much. I've always loved you. Always, always, always. I would rather die than lose you." She crawled to his feet and kissed them, tears soaking into his socks.

"I should have known better. Once a whore, always a whore."

Sue looked up in surprise. What she saw took her aback.

This man was not her Keith, not the man she had loved. There was cold and trembling fury on this man's face, a fury carved in stone, merciless, unyielding. His eyes were blazing, his lips curled into a snarl.

"Your dad warned me about you. He said you were a whore. I should have known it would come to this."

That word again. Whore. She had been thrilled with Phil called her that, it made her feel naughty and alive. But Keith made the word sound different, contemptible and despised.

"My dad warned you? What the—"

"Back in college, your dad called my dad. They asked me to keep an eye on you—"

"What do you mean, keep an eye on me—"

"He knew you were trouble. I could see what you were, spreading your legs for anyone, even blacks—"

"What did you say?" she screeched.

Why am I on my knees for this man?

Rising to her feet, she jabbed her finger into her husband's face. "What the fuck are you saying?"

"I thought I could save you!" Keith hissed back. "I believed so much that it was my duty to save you!"

"You—you were following me that night? Stalking me?"

"It wasn't that guy's fault what happened. You led him on. Dressing like a slut, sleeping around like a whore! What did you think that would happen? I rescued you from that life—"

Sue felt the rage rise in her, a dangerous rage, a volatile rage. She thought of the pain and brutality, of the rocks, of the torments, of the contempt.

"You. Fucking. Bastard."

"I'm the bastard? You just whored yourself out to another guy—"

"What I did with Phil was wrong. But what you did was ten times worse."

"What did I ever—"

"You don't love me. You never have."

"I've taken care of you, sheltered you—"

"You took me away from who I was. What I wanted. Who I wanted to be. You tried to make me into someone you wanted."

"I saved you from whoredom—"

"I've been with you for almost twenty years and you never saw me as a person, an adult, free to make her own choices—"

"I made you a respectable person—"

"You kept me a prisoner!" Sue snarled. "I did what you wanted. I lived by your values. You made me into someone I'm not!"

"This is who you are! Who you should be!"

"And I'm telling you I'm through. I'm done being your own perfect prudish fantasy good wife. You don't own me."

"Oh really? What's that written on your butt then?"

"Something I chose to put there. Something put there as part of a game, by someone who really cares about me." Tears were in Sue's eyes now, whether tears of sadness or anger or pain she did not know.

"You'd rather whore yourself to that man and his filth than be with me?" shot back Keith. "How dare you, after all I've done for you—"

"SHUT THE FUCK UP!" Sue roared, her face mottled with anger, her eyes blazing like hot fire. Keith took a step back, eyes apprehensive.

"I'm warning you, I'll call the police on you and that bastard—"

"Go for it," Sue said contemptuously. "You'll just get fined for misusing 911."

She stared grimly at Keith, eyes like ice, naked and haughty. He stared back, and long did their eyes lock onto each other, a silent battle of wills that would brook no mediation, take no ambiguity, that would not cease until one will found mastery.

Finally, Keith broke the stare and turned away.

***

2001 it was. Fall.

The world's changed, Phil wrote. I can't believe I was just with you in New York a few months ago. And now the Towers are gone, just like that.

He had been terrified for Sue's safety that terrible morning, almost crazed with worry until Sue's email arrived, reassuring him she was unharmed. But the clouds of war were on the horizon. Phil was troubled at the anger and hatred he saw festering in once-welcoming internet forums. Hard looks were sometimes cast at his brown face.

Will you still be on in 15 minutes? Sue asked.

Of course I am. All by myself here.

Where else would he be if not at his computer? He valued his friendship with Sue a great deal, but he was still, in the end of the game, alone. Outside his workplace, he had almost no human interaction.

The ghetto Phil lived in had no real walls and no true dimensions. The walls were the habits of neurosis and the dimensions were an illusion. But the ghetto existed all the same. Phil did not know how to leave it.

He had tried going to various Silicon Valley social events, but he had only a vague idea how to turn that into deeper friendships. And there were few women there — the Bay Area was rated as one of the worst places in the country to be a single male.

But he had the memory of his time with Sue. He wondered how she was doing, whether she'd reconciled with her husband. Sometimes she was online quite a lot, even let him call her and have hair-raising phonesex. Other times she'd disappear for weeks at a time, and when he emailed said only she was really busy, though with what he did not know.

There came a knock at the door. Who that could be? Phil had no friends who might drop in, and he didn't remember ordering anything.

His jaw dropped when he saw who was there.

Sue looked happier than he'd ever seen her, happier than at the peaks of ecstasy. There was freedom in her face, her wide lips bursting into a glorious smile, her eyes alight with love and joy.

"I wanted to surprise you, Phil," she began, her voice cracking.

She was in underwear, that same underwear she'd worn on the street that last day in New York. Once again a pink dog collar and leash bestooned on her neck; the same sideways H-shaped chain linked her arms and legs.

Phil did not even stop to think; his arms were around her, and hers were around him, and their lips were pressing into each other, and his tears were mixing with hers, both of them were shaking like leaves—

"I love you, Phil. I know that now."

He could not get words out of his mouth, so great was the surge of passion running through his chest. He waited for the usual qualifier, but instead, she added, "And—and I'm here. For you. For as long as you want me."

Sue looked up at him, caressing his face, and offered him the leash.

A kaleidoscope of emotions went through Phil. "Does this mean that you—"

"I'll explain later, Phil. But right now, just do what your heart tells you."

Phil felt the strength returning to him, felt himself almost seem to rise taller. Perhaps for the first time in his life, he felt fully a man.

He took the leash in his hand, smiling slightly, and firmly led his slave into the apartment.

THE END