Sub*lime ©2004

"I used to always catch you staring at me," my friend said casually.

I took a sip of the margarita I had ordered, gulping it nervously. Of course he had constantly caught me, and though my face would grow hot with embarrassment each time, he'd only smirk nonchalantly and continue on with his activities.

"I liked you, even then," I quietly offered.

He grinned. "Well… I like you, too. Do you like your food ?"

"It's very good. How's your shrimp?"

"Too bad you're allergic to them, they're great."

Returning his smile, I wondered where our little supper date would end up. Even though I knew it wasn't to be romantic, I had still done some special preparing for it. That afternoon I went to a local lingerie boutique to purchase some exotic underwear just in case we ended up together in a bedroom.

I browsed the aisles for something that would flatter my body; I had been kick boxing for a couple of months but was still unhappy about my skinny, unshapely legs. I chose some black garter stockings to enhance them and a lacy red bra that unlatched from the front.

I was near the panty rack when I noticed a mannequin wearing a dominatrix costume. Fascinated, I took in her leather mask, her satin bustier, tight black skirt with riding crop stuck into the waistband, and her thigh-high boots. I felt an unusual desire emanate inside of me and momentarily thought about buying at least the boots and crop. I licked the corners of my mouth as I continued to marvel at the statue. Then, instinctively, I looked to my left at a man in the bikini section. He was grinning sleazily at me, baring a snaggletooth, tobacco-stained grin. With that, I hurried to the checkout line.

The meal with my friend was going pleasantly. We talked about the same things we always did and our platonic honesty remained intact. I asked him, "You have any other hobbies?"

As he explained them to me, I studied his face, which was quite unremarkable. I couldn't understand why I was so very attracted to it. He had dark brown hair cut into a nondescript style and boring brown eyes that finished off his average appearance. I smiled again as I thought of how perfect he'd fit in the lawn care department of Lowe's. As he returned my grin, I wondered what his true opinion of me was.

I focused on finishing my food. More than his looks, though, I liked his sociable, down-to-earth personality. He liked to act as a teacher to those around him and had an unmistakable authority to him. It intrigued me. Being a teacher was like being in control of the person one was talking to and that was what initially turned me on to him. It was easy for our friendship to develop once he began to assist me with my tasks.

A couple being led into the eatery passed our table and as they caught sight of us, their eyes widened in momentary shock. I'm sure that my friend noticed it along with me.

He took a pregnant pause and confirmed my assumption by asking, "Have you ever done this type of thing before?"

"Done what?"

"You know. Go out somewhere with a white guy."

I wiped my mouth with a paper napkin and softly said, "I've done just about everything there is to life at this point."

His eyebrows lifted. " Every thing?"

"Well, everything vanilla ."

He only responded with his smirk. I wondered if he knew what vanilla meant in the context I was using it in. Soon, I'd get the answer.

"What about the type of women you've dated?" I asked.

"I've been pretty conservative in my life about that."

"Oh."

"I've had… experiences, though."

I absently stroked my bottom lip with my thumb and perked. I felt comfortable enough to ask, "With who?"

His demeanor didn't change. "A few black prostitutes I picked up when I was serving in the military."

"Really?"

"Yes. But they weren't anything special. Most of them just laid still underneath me and kept asking if I was almost finished."

"I see."

"It's so much better when a woman is with me to enjoy it, not for any other reason."

"That's very true."

He eyed me for a while, and I think he was being so straightforward to test me. I just suppressed a beam, enjoying his candor as much as a juicy piece of gossip.

By the time we entered his home that evening, the sun had all but lowered and the moon was out in the graying sky.

"Do you date a lot?" he asked, locking his door behind us.

"Not a whole lot, like once a month."

He prepared mugs of coffee for us while I looked up at the early stars from his slide door.

"What about relationships? Have you had many?"

I sipped the cappuccino he handed me. "No. The ones I've always been in have been short. And unhappy."

"I'm sorry to hear that. What's been the problem?"

"I don't know," I answered while remembering how I got no joy or real sexual satisfaction from any of them. "How about you?"

"I've had some good relationships over the years. When I found the kind of woman I like."

My cheeks warmed. I didn't think to ask him what kind of woman he was speaking of. I nursed my drink and mulled over how hard sex and relationships were for me, though I regularly ached for them both. I didn't think that this night we were sharing would be any different. I was just obsessively drawn to him and wanted to consume as much of him as possible, even in the ultimate way. I hoped I wouldn't get so nervous that I'd be uptight and not able to do or experience anything. I had drunk quite a bit of tequila so I was feeling bold, but I knew one frown from him would destroy my augmented self-confidence.

We were in his home office, near his desk. He kissed me for the first time there. His cologne danced into my nostrils and relaxed me more. His arms were around my waist and my breasts squeezed against his chest. I hesitated for a second, drawing back, but he held me tighter and slipped his tongue inside my mouth.

"Feels good?" he asked, his face but an inch from mine.

"Yes."

Then he suddenly loosened his embrace and shoved me roughly into the desk. I gaped at him, frozen. His expression was dark and my heart leapt curiously. I glanced at his front door.

He yanked my shirt and bra up, then carefully bit my right nipple. I gasped while my hands clutched the shoulders of his shirt in case I had to keep him at bay. But to my relief, he remained gentle, and I found the slight pain from his teeth was actually making me aroused. My chest heaved as he switched to licking and sucking my breasts. He undid and lowered my pants and with the sight of my garter stockings and naked pubis, his face lit up. He propped me on his large desk and slid himself inside of me. I was surprised and pleased with how easy he pushed it in.

He moved in me with good even strokes which were slow at first. I squeezed and caressed his smooth buttocks while feeling heat and contractions between my legs. Moans escaped my throat and it all caused me some embarrassment. He held me tightly around my shoulders and pumped away, then quickly took a hold of my buttocks and we thrust together until our climaxes.

He kissed me once more then withdrew and untangled himself from me unceremoniously. He went to finish off his coffee and I was left in the office feeling spent but awkward. My heart was also still slamming from the initial terror of his mood swing. I didn't know what to do next. I felt like a slut that had just been fucked in a back alley.

"Come sit with me," he said from his sofa.

I rubbed my lips together thoughtfully and obeyed him. We lounged there together for a while. We watched TV. Then he said, "Come closer to me."

I meekly sipped from my mug and did so. He embraced me and drew back to press his lips to mine. I savored the sensation as he repeated the action again and again.

He cupped my rear and writhed his crotch into mines. Feeling his penis pulsate against me, I gripped his back and parted my legs more. His living room was dim and quiet except for the TV, and I found his couch to be quite cozy and perfect for lovemaking. But then he took my right hand and pulled me up and towards the back of the house.

Once inside his bedroom, he gave me a playful smack on my backside. I broke into a smile and he peeled off his shirt and dropped his pants. Without asking he stared into my face and tugged off all my clothes. I was glad that he was being aggressive, dominant, and take charge with me. Like the biting it was giving me a euphoric adrenaline rush.

We kissed some more in his bed. My heart still thumped and I felt inadequate, but thrilled. He nipped at my nipples again and stuck three fingers inside of me. When he attempted to do four, I silently stopped him. He climbed on top of me and I held onto him and thrust upward in pleasure with my eyes squeezed shut.

"Look at me," he said.

I made myself gaze into his face and it heightened my arousal. He felt larger inside of me that time. And he fucked me much rougher, smacking his skin into mine and knocking the headboard against the wall so hard that I wondered if he was trying to hurt me. When the passion was over, he rolled his body from mines and things were quiet for a while.

"You liked it when I bit you," he stated it in question form.

My eyes opened and for the first time I noticed that his ceiling was stucco. "You scared me half to death at first."

His voice was gentle. "I'm sorry. That was the was last thing I meant to do."

"It's okay."

"Did my teeth hurt?"

"Not too much."

"Did you like the pain?"

"It was… okay," I answered with carefulness. I didn't know where he was going with the conversation.

The fact that he had shoved me without reason was still on my mind, but I decided not to bring it up if he didn't. There was something more important that was bothering me, anyway.

"You know…" I started.

"Yeah?"

"I've never done this before. I mean, going home with a guy for the first time, and jumping into bed with him. This the first time I've ever done it."

"Why did you?"

"Well, we've already known each other for a while now. It's not like we're strangers. We're friends"

"That's right. So why are you explaining yourself?"

"I just don't want you to think that I'm a slut or anything."

"You're not a slut," he stroked my hair, then added, "But I wouldn't mind if you became my slut. My obedient black slut."

He stroked my hair once more then laid back in bed while I digested his last words with a furrowed expression. Then before long I was drifting off into a light, brief sleep.

*

We became closer over the next month. He craved intimacy and was very demanding of it. He often did whatever he wanted to me without asking while giving a pinch, nip, or shove to my body. Otherwise he'd give me orders to follow. I liked what he was doing and wasn't freaked out by it. I enjoyed following his commands, it turned me on. His treatment inspired me to one day reminisce to him about times I had asked past boyfriends to spank me and get kinky during sex.

"Well, I didn't ask them straight out," I told, "but I implied to them that it was what I wanted."

He peered at me with narrowed eyes. "And what did they do?"

"They didn't take me seriously at all. Some even laughed." I blinked my eyes impishly.

"You… ever thought about me spanking you?"

"Mmmm, not really."

"Do you like the idea now?"

My cheeks warmed and I smiled. I wouldn't look at him then.

"Yes or no. Does the idea turn you on?"

"…Yes."

He leaned back, then suddenly got pensive. He interlocked his fingers and was silent for long moments. I watched him expectantly.

"What if I told you that I'm a Dom?"

My mouth parted and I fumbled for words.

"Do you know what that is?" he asked coolly.

"Yes."

"What is it?"

"A… dominator."

He smiled slightly. My friend was very confident, controlling, and straightforward, especially behind closed doors, and yet at all times there remained his easygoing, mentoring demeanor. Therefore I stayed relaxed, though still surprised that I actually knew someone who was into such a thing. I mean, spanking and pinching was one thing, but was he talking about extreme stuff like whips, chains, and piercing needles?

"That's right, basically." He nodded. "Are you familiar with play?"

"N-no, not personally. I've seen things on TV about it, though," I answered with a quick shrug to appear sophisticated.

"Would you like to have a session with me?"

"You mean… here? Now?"

"Sure. I want to. And I have everything we need."

"Well, I don't know you that well. I just couldn't…"

He placed his hand on my knee. "You can trust me. I'm sane, I'm safe. I was formally trained to be a Master and take it very seriously."

I shot him a look. "Why didn't you tell me all this before?"

He stood up thoughtfully. "I didn't want you running away from me screaming."

"I wouldn't have done that."

"I know."

"I'm not judgmental."

He was staring directly down at me and I felt the pressure to make up my mind. I looked up into his eyes.

"What do you want to do to me exactly?"

"I'll keep it light, okay? You don't have to worry," he replied in a soothing voice and started massaging my shoulders. Warm goosebumps flooded my upper body.

"You've trusted me so far, haven't you?"

"Yeah," I admitted.

"And I mean, if I were a psychopath, I would've done something bad to you a long time ago. Why would I wait so long?"

I remained silent and thought that over. He began to fondle my nipples through my clothes. Stirring began between my legs as my mind was struggling with ambivalence.

"Let's just try it once. If you don't like it, I'll stop right away and we can go back to the way things were before this conversation, okay?"

He took my hand and pulled me up. I found myself walking with him to the bedroom. My heart was racing and stomach fluttering.

"Come on, we'll pick out some things together ," he was saying.

He went into his closet and began laying out his equipment, which I had never seen until that time. All of it was high quality and I felt a little hurt that he had kept this side away from me. My faith in him was shaken.

But I continued to go along. He stood behind me and I felt like he was my father guiding me through something that was unknown but ultimately beneficial and wonderful. He chose a leather collar for me, a thick one that was black and had decorative steel chains lining it.

He placed it around my neck. It fastened just like a belt and clung to me securely. In the middle of it was a metal ring that he then attached a leash to. With that, I was already beginning to feel like his personal property. I got the same sensation as when I saw the dominatrix outfit in the store.

We looked over his collection of spanking tools: there were leather slappers, hand paddles, and small whips. He picked up a paddle that had a leopard-print surface.

He asked, "How about this one? Do you like it?"

I nodded. I was hesitant to counter him even if I didn't agree. He grazed the surface of it along the right side of my face while smirking.

"Take off your clothes."

I silently obeyed him and was left standing in my blue bra and panties. He chose a gray blindfold and placed it over my eyes. Sight taken away from me, my other senses got more acute as did my anticipation of what he'd do next.

The paddle brushed across my face again, then traveled down the middle of my chest and belly. I swallowed hard.

"Do you like the way it feels?" he asked.

"Yes."

Abruptly it smacked against my left buttock and I gasped as rapid stinging spread over the surface of my flesh.

"Yes, what?" he asked.

"Yes, Sir ?"

"Good, bitch," he praised, then slapped my backside once more. "And don't forget it. Now put your hands behind your back."

I waited to hear the clinking of handcuffs, but never did. He secured my wrists together with leather bands that linked with metal rings.

That's when my heart started to race faster. Tethered and without my sight or hands, I was totally vulnerable to him. I prayed that he indeed was trustworthy and sound.

"How do you feel being so helpless right now?" he asked.

"Okay so far."

"What's going through your mind, slave?"

"I'm wondering what you're going to do next."

He tugged on the leash and I jerked forward. "Come sit a while."

As I sat in his bedroom chair I could hear him changing some of his clothes. I heard zippers zipping and laces being pulled. Then he removed the restraints from my wrists. He yanked on the leash and I stood up.

"Get on your hands and knees like a good bitch… Good… Now kiss my motherfucking feet."

I reached my hand out to find them, patting the floor. He yanked the leash and slapped my buttock with his bare palm.

" With your lips ."

I puckered them and after some fumbling, found one of his feet. My lips pressed against the toe of his shoe and discovered that he had changed out of his sneakers. I felt and smelled leather as I kissed both of his feet silently, feeling like an exploited piece of garbage. But it was vaguely gratifying me. Amazed, I tried to decipher why I wasn't as offended as I should've been. Meanwhile, my crotch was still stirring in pleasure.

"You like the way it tastes?" he asked huskily.

"Yes, Sir."

He stepped away from me and I paused; he tugged me towards him. I crawled to him and resumed kissing his boots. Again he stepped away and began to lead me around like a dog through the house. We came to his living room sofa.

He had me climb up on it. My elbows and knees sunk into the plushness with relief. My backside was in the air and facing him. He took hold of my panties and pulled them upwards so they acted like a thong. My cheeks fully exposed he began to lightly massage and caress them with his hand, then thrash them each with the paddle.

The burn was intense. A moan escaped my throat and he smacked harder as if to get a stronger response. I bit down on my bottom lip and relished whenever he paused to soothingly graze my buttocks with his fingertips.

"You like the way this feels, don't you?"

I winced and breathed hard. "It hurts."

He whacked harder. "This can be just the beginning. Do you want it to be?"

Right then I was smarting, but the punishment was still satisfying a hunger somewhere inside me. I had been right to ask for past spankings.

"Answer me, cunt."

"Yes. I would."

He hit me harder than ever before and I yelped out.

" Yes, what? "

"Yes, Sir ."

Sub*lime- II

*

"I think I've been getting too tame with you," he was saying. He held my mask in his hands and peered at me.

"Yes, Sir."

He was pulling out some gadgets as I sat obediently in a chair and watched him. I didn't actually feel his domination towards me was becoming any less intense than it had ever been, and decided that his comments were hinting that things were to get more extreme.

Earlier we had been in bed together watching TV. I was tethered in my slave collar and was groveling to him big time. I nuzzled myself against him with my right arm and leg draped over his body. I kept caressing and kissing him, trying to get his attention.

But he kept watching TV and totally ignored me. I ran my fingers through his hair and kissed his neck. I whimpered with desire, needing him to acknowledge my existence. I was wearing the stainless steel collar he had bought that Christmas. It was heavy, but comfortable because of the suede lining the inside. He never let me forget that he had bought it especially for me and how expensive it was. I loved it, but still didn't cherish it as much as the first collar he had placed around my neck.

He dropped the black slave hood into my lap and told me to put it on. I slipped the leather item over my head. There were openings for my nostrils and a zippered slot for my mouth. I could see out of the eyeholes as he tightly tied the apparatus into place. He then secured my torso with a harness.

My Dom cupped my chin and lifted it so that I was looking up at him. He smirked at me.

"Now you're nothing. Do you understand that?"

I nodded demurely.

"You're a faceless, voiceless body. You're even less than a hooker, because at least a hooker has her identity. No, you're just an anonymous piece of black meat for me to use… to shoot my load into…"

I begin to feel that way; my breathing became quick and shallow.

"You don't even deserve to get paid like a whore does. All you're worthy of is catching cum so that it doesn't mess up my sheets and carpet."

He pinched my right nipple hard as he said the last part. I gasped and they both came to life.

He reached over and retrieved the clamps. Though I enjoyed them, their presence got my heart pounding. The little clasps fastened onto my nipples and mashed and extended them while delivering a sharp, shocking pain in each. A single chain connected the two and he pulled on it. I moaned.

"Feel it?"

"Mmm Hmmm."

I knew he was pleased and I felt some satisfaction with that. The chair I sat in was a special one with stirrups set wide apart.

I did what he ordered: I leaned back and placed my feet up in the stirrups, exposing my vulva. He bound my ankles, then restrained my wrists to shackles at the head of the chair. He disappeared from my view and returned with forceps in his hand, ready to pinch, squeeze and pull my most delicate body parts. I began to perspire.

I cried out in agony while he put the little pliers to work. Tears moistened my eyes.

"Who's your Master?" he asked, and unzipped my mouth slot.

"You are, Sir."

"Who?" He squeezed my most sensitive place and I shrieked.

"You are, Sir! You're my Master!"

"And who's my slave-bitch?"

"I'm your slave-bitch, Sir."

"Good." He took away the forceps to my relief. He replaced them with his stiff, sharp tongue, lapping at my clitoris and between my wet labia as if he was exploring the taste for the first time.

He inserted a thick glass plug inside of me, stretching my interior uncomfortably. He lapped me a little more and pulled hard on the nipple chain. He was giving me a fusion of pain and ecstasy and I didn't know where one ended and the other began. I didn't moan out, though, afraid he'd stop if he knew how good it felt. Quickly, I climaxed hard and long-lasting.

By the time I was coming down from it, he was unlacing and pulling my hood up halfway. He brought his face to mine and kissed my lips. He circled them with the tip of his tongue, and then went to free to my ankles.

"Now… you know what I like," he said confidently.

Just as cocksure, I kneeled down before him and looked up, seeing how erect he was. I leaned over and licked his boots and followed him loyally as he stepped away.

He sat down and I kissed and licked over his chest and stomach. He took a handful of my shoulder-length hair and lifted his right arm up. I licked his armpit, smelling the faint remnants of his deodorant. He had no suntan; his skin was milky in comparison to my caramel complexion and because of it I felt his dominion over me even more despite myself.

I took his hand and kissed it with much reverence then offered a meek smile, the type a nervous stewardess might give. "Are you ready, Sir?"

He paused and said leisurely, "Not just yet."

I went back to giving him a tongue bath for about ten minutes.

"Now," he then replied.

I retrieved his heavy, stiff penis and lapped the precum with a wide stiff tongue. My wet lips kissed the underside of the head then I slid the shaft in and out of my mouth with tight lips like it was a syrupy, melting Popsicle. I moved to lick the inside of his thighs then returned in between as my head bobbed and my arousal rekindled. The plug was still inside me and harnessed; my muscles contracted around it steadily.

He grew larger in my mouth and my face burned with fatigue but if I stopped I'd be punished. He had complained about my blow jobs before. Not wanting to disappoint him, I sucked hard, making sure that my lips covered my teeth and that I ignored the gagging as he repeatedly slid down and back up my throat. My tongue massaged his cock and he grabbed my hair, beginning to ejaculate.

I was filled with relief and pride as he filled me with cum. I tried to keep it all contained but stuck a cupped hand under my chin to catch what I knew would drip out. Sure enough about half of his salty sweet semen pooled into my palm, and after I swallowed what was in my mouth, I met his gaze.

With an ached eyebrow he wore an expectant expression. I brought my hand up and licked and slurped it clean. His eyebrow lowered and I knew I was pleasing him, not just with my actions, but with my whole submission. I hoped I was becoming the obedient slut he had hoped for.

*

I crawled across the carpeted floor to retrieve a rubber ball he threw across the room.

"That's right, girl, go fetch it," he encouraged.

I took it between my teeth and brought it back. He was sitting in his easy chair with that arrogant look that warmed my senses. He tossed the ball again and I went for it.

"Faster this time… that's good… Now go bring your Master his favorite flogger."

I obeyed immediately, happy to be moving around since I had been motionless on my hands and knees for over an hour. He had been using me as a table and an ottoman, resting his ashtray and remote control on my back in addition to his heavy feet.

He took the flogger from me but didn't use it. His left hand was resting on his knee and I took the initiative to kiss it like the loving, loyal pet I was. I laid my head on his lap.

"Are you a good girl?" he asked.

I nodded and moaned for him. He stroked my hair and scratched my belly while I sunk to the floor and rolled onto my back. My eyes lowered contentedly and I tried my best not to burst into laughter; his fondling was tickling me. Then he scratched behind my right ear and that side of my upper body became alive with warm waves of goose pimples.

He smiled and brushed the flog tails along my body. "Go fetch my wallet."

I brought it to him. I was clamping it between my lips. As I presented it to him, I gazed up demurely into his face. Though staring offended him, he hated when I avoided periodic eye contact with him.

"We're going to go out for a nice walk tonight, to get some fresh air," he said enigmatically. "Does that sound nice?"

"Yes, Sir."

He went and composed an outfit for me to wear. I looked it over and wondered what he had in store for us so late that Saturday night.

He drove out to the rough area of the city and we strolled around the blocks taking in the drug addicts, vagabonds, hookers, and venturous night owls shuffling pass us and loitering about. The midnight air was warm and electric; I was dazzled by the crude rainbow of red, yellow, green and white street and car lights enveloping us in the black atmosphere. Occasionally an automobile would blow its horn and whiz along the street or someone would cackle with laughter or bellow out to a person at the other end of the block. With night came a different world from the day; the rise of the moon meant the rise of an underworld subculture.

I held onto my Dom's arm while the tepid wind caressed my bare skin. Wearing a pair of shorts, sneakers without socks, and a thin, taut tee shirt I had on no underwear and my breasts jiggled and swayed beneath the meager fabric. We came to stop in front of a boarded up brownstone building. My Dom leaned against a column at the foot of the staircase and held me from behind.

"Look at that hooker," he said.

I visually scanned the street until I saw a heavyset woman with long teased red hair and a cheap dress of purple crushed velvet on. She had a tiny box-shaped purse on her shoulder as she sashayed around the corner.

"How do you know she's one?" I asked.

"It's obvious." He raked his fingers down my hair. "Do you think you're worth more than she is?"

"I don't know what she charges."

"No more than forty."

"But, your opinion is the only one that matters, Sir."

I knew that he was pleased with the response as I could sense his approval. I grinned some.

"Did I already mention that I'm getting too tame with you?"

"…Yes, Sir…" My smile faded a bit.

As it did, a professional-looking man, probably leaving work after some overtime bookkeeping, walked down the sidewalk in a rumpled blue suit. My Dom exchanged greetings with him.

Then, to my horror, he took the hem of my shirt and lifted it up, exposing my breasts to the man.

"Doesn't this black meat look good?"

I don't know whose face got redder- mines or the man's! He kept walking past us, but turned his head back to gawk at us one last time. Then he was gone.

"Why did you do that, Sir?" I implored.

"Why not? You're a beautiful girl, and I want to show you off."

I was shocked speechless and overcome with nervous embarrassment. He took my hand and we began to walk once more. We stopped in front of a seedy bar and stood at a telephone booth. He was behind me again and I broke out into a sweat as my eyes darted. I wanted to object to what he had done but the words couldn't find their way out.

Another guy walked by us and my Dom lifted my shirt again.

"Hey, buddy… like what you see?"

The guy leered. "How much is she?"

"Five bucks."

The man broke into a dry laugh. I tried to keep my hot face from cracking.

His expression was skeptic. "Five bucks really?"

"Sure."

" Ahhh… " he balked with the wave of his hand and kept walking.

"Sir, this is kind of dangerous. We could… get arrested for soliciting or some thing."

He had lowered my shirt. He playfully squeezed on my tits like they were horns. "Relax, this is just good clean fun."

"Do you really think I'm worth just five dollars?"

"Tonight you are. Five dollars at the most. That'll be enough to get me some cigarettes."

The bar door swung open and bellowing Blues music escaped out of it as an inebriated patron stepped onto the sidewalk.

"How are you tonight?" my Dom asked him.

"Pretty good," he slurred with a dopey smile. He took a misstep and had to catch his footing.

"You want to see my bitch's rack?"

"Say what?"

"For a dollar you can see her tits."

The guy's smile broadened and his eyebrows arched high, as if he waited for the Candid Camera crew to spring out from behind us. Never-the-less, he dug into his pants pocket and peeled off a single.

His eyes glued to my exposed chest. My Dom took each tit in his hands and shook and squeezed them together.

The guy licked his lips and chuckled softly. Though I was mortified by the exposure, the knowledge that I was arousing him made my crotch tingle and itch with titillation. When the stranger was gone, I stroked myself in relief.

" Slut ." My Dom pushed me.

As he did, a patrol car rolled down the street and the two cops inside gave us a long stare at the stoplight. My Dom picked up the payphone's receiver and pretended that he was calling someone. I stood close to him so they wouldn't think we were up to no good.

"You like being used and humiliated like a cheap, crude slut, don't you?" he muttered to me.

I didn't know how to respond. I looked over to the patrol car again and noticed the officers had lost interest in us.

"Answer me, cunt."

"No, Sir."

" Never lie to me."

"It was… okay."

The police car rolled away and he slammed the receiver down. "Next time we come out here I'll have you in a miniskirt- got it?"

He continued to offer guys an eyeful and an occasional squeeze for a dollar, and after a while, had collected three more ones. He took us to a mini-mart. By then I could feel reluctant silky moisture on my inner thighs.

With the cash he bought himself three loose cigarettes, a Snickers bar, and some breath mints. I knew he had more than enough of his own money in his wallet to spend. I had the munchies and wished he would've bought me a snack cake or some potato chips but he didn't, and I was afraid to ask lest he reject me.

We took the long way back to his car. I was relieved to see that no one had stolen his hubcaps or broken in to get the CD player or something, especially since there was a group of homeless men gathered on the corner not far away.

We stood against the car for a while as he smoked and had some of his candy. Then he pulled me to him and began to grip my ass and writhe into my crotch in full view of the vagabonds.

"Please… I don't know about here," I said, feeling eyes on us.

He slapped me harshly on my backside, eliciting a whoop and some chortles from the crowd. "But you like being looked at, don't you, slut?"

His fingers dipped under the hem of my shorts and stroked my swollen lips, where there was still a little wetness. The discovery brought a satisfied grin to his face.

"Wear that black whore's pussy out!" was yelled to us.

My Dom didn't seem to have heard or cared about the comment. He unlocked the back door. "Get in, on your back… Now pull your shorts off and keep your legs up."

I obeyed and calmly watched him unzip his jeans and pull his dick out of his briefs. He had gotten hard at the sight of my hairy mahogany and pink vulva. He climbed into the car and slammed the door, locking it. Then he settled between my legs and pushed himself deep inside my canal on the first try.

As he fucked me the automobile began to rock and there were some more shouts from the derelict crowd.

"You like it, bitch?" he breathed out.

"Not with them out there."

My disclosure got him more passionate, and he began sticking his tongue into my ear and biting and sucking on my neck, while never losing the relentless rhythm of his hips. I could only enjoy it minimally, though. I stared up through the window praying that a cop wouldn't tap on it or shine a light through to arrest us.

Sub*lime- Part III

*

My discomfort hadn't dissipated over the days. I silently soaped my Dom's back as he stood in the shower lathering his chest and stomach. The water splashed on my arms and face occasionally but I wasn't supposed to care about it, and didn't. I went to the medicine cabinet to retrieve a razor.

I leaned over and began to shave his pubic hair some to make it look neater. Getting both sides even took a steady hand and concentration. I stepped back some to study my efforts, then look up to his face. "Are you pleased, Sir?"

He looked down and inspected, then gazed at the full-length mirror on the opposite wall. He merely nodded.

I rinsed the soap off of him with a spray nozzle, massaging my hand into his skin. I dried him with a fluffy beach towel, and slipped him into a terry cloth robe and slippers.

We went into the bedroom and he sat back on the bed. I kneeled down before him to oil his body. I started at his toes, then went up to his shins and thighs with gentle strokes. I always took good care of him and his body. In addition to bathing and shaping his pubic hair, I always helped shave his face and had learned to comb his hair just the way he did.

The time was quiet and was a perfect opportunity to voice my concern about what had taken place the Saturday before. I opened my mouth with glazed eyes.

"Sir?"

"Yes?"

My lips were parted; I inhaled a bit and held my breath while struggling to speak.

"What's wrong, slave?"

"…W-when… when you…" I paused a second and thought deeply. "When did you first know that you were a Dom?"

He grunted with amusement. "When I was ten years old."

"Oh, yeah?"

"I tied up the little girl next door during a game of cops and robbers."

"You did?"

"I didn't want to untie her. She started crying. I started laughing."

I ran my thumbs along his spine firmly, hoping it felt good to him.

"That started it all," he said.

"I see."

"That's all you wanted to know?" he curiously asked.

"Uh… yes, sir."

I chickened out. I didn't want to anger or disappoint him. Our relationship was going sublimely since he first spanked me on his living room sofa and conflict would only jeopardize that. My goal was to please and not fail him. How I wished that I could just forever serve him the way I was doing right then. I really enjoyed it.

He took a deep breath and let it out slowly, and I knew my actions were pleasing him.

"Where's your collar?" he asked.

I silently got up and offered it to him.

"Put it on. You'll look good in it tonight." He smiled.

I swallowed hard, and hesitated but complied. "We're going somewhere tonight, Sir?"

"We'll take a little walk. Every bitch should have a collar on when she's being walked, don't you think?"

"Um yes, Sir. But you know… I really don't feel like going out, if we're going to be doing… you know, what happened last weekend."

He interlocked his fingers in a patronizing way. "Who asked what you felt like doing?"

I stared at the floor and winced. "I'm just telling you how I feel. I don't think doing that type of thing is worth it. Please don't be mad at me for saying this," I almost whispered.

"I'm not mad. Just insulted." He stood up. "I didn't think you were the smart-ass type."

He grabbed my collar tight and yanked me to the floor.

"Please, Sir, I'm not trying to be a- ah …."

He shoved a neon green dildo into my mouth and strapped it stationary. My wrists were then tied to a beam.

"Now you stay still until I decide whether or not to tear into your ass with my bullwhip."

I breathed hard and uneven. My Dom didn't look too upset with me and I got the distinct feeling he thought we were playing a game. I yearned to talk to him, though, and moaned out pleadingly.

"Get comfortable, meat, you'll be in that position for a long fucking time."

I took a very deep, discouraged breath and went limp on exhale. The house was quiet. He left me in the room and I could hear him doing housework. Ironically he still liked such activities even with me around to order about. Constrained and gagged and laying back, I begin to get bored and sleepy after long minutes passed. My breathing slowed down and though the need to express myself was urgent, I drifted off to sleep.

" Wake up ."

I was slapped awake by him and untied. When I stood, joint stiffness made me limp behind him to the bed, where he had laid an outfit out for me. There was a black sequined tube top, a gold micro skirt, and black loafers on the floor. Again, socks and underwear weren't present.

When we were ready to depart, I noticed he was wearing his knee high boots and stared down at them as I boldly asked, "Don't you think we stand out enough in public as it is?"

He pursed his lips. "You're just deciding to have a field day aren't you?"

He retrieved his biggest leather slapper and smacked it against the back of my thigh. Tears watered my eyes.

"You disrespect me one more time and you won't be seeing me for at least a week."

I gasped silently. The ultimate punishment, worst than any physical pain he could dream up for me. I lowered my head and obediently followed him though the front door.

The night was electric as always and felt surreal. My stomach was starting to hurt, and I silently prayed that our trip would go as uneventful as a night of outside flashing and fucking could.

"Right here is fine."

We stopped at a green bench in front of a small park. The only other person in sight was inside its iron fence, a man who lurked about like a drug dealer.

"Is that one of those Penny Savers?" My Dom asked while squinting towards a newsstand on the opposite corner. "I wouldn't mind flipping through one of those right now."

Without needing further prompting, I stepped to head towards them but he stopped me. I curiously look into his face, then down at my tube top, which he took in his hands. He pulled down the garment.

My mouth parted in horror. I threw a look to the newsstand and could've sworn that the distance between me and it had doubled. I squeezed together my sweaty, shaking palms.

"Not one word," he advised me sternly. "You're going to reinforce your submission to me tonight."

I didn't dare object. I knew he would make his earlier threat reality if I challenged his authority once more. But what if someone saw me?

"Don't fail, for your own sake," he said.

I swallowed hard and turned around slowly. I launched myself forward and rushed towards the newspapers, which was a good thirty feet away. My knees buckled and shame drenched me as my tits were on display for anyone to see. And though no one was around to, I might as well have been walking across a soccer stadium crammed with ogling spectators.

Then I gasped. A yellow cab darted along the intersection and I raised my arms, prepared to cover myself. Luckily the car was too far up to notice me. I resisted the temptation to look back at my Dom, wanting to appear confident in my willingness to please him. I was halfway to my destination.

Then finally arriving there, I opened the glass door of the box and got out a paper with a fiercely trembling hand. I turned back around and quietly counted my footsteps to steady my mind. I kept my eyes on my Dom, who was glancing down at his shoes and examining their shine in the night glow. I was almost back, I thought in relief before noticing that I had caught the park lurker's attention. I lowered my head and continued on bravely. The sidewalk moved too slow for me. At last, I was staring My Dom's boots. Still looking down, I handed him the Penny Saver.

"You did good."

I put on a weak smile and waited impatiently for my top to be pulled back up.

" Hey, now …" I heard a laughing voice say. I knew it was the guy in the park and his voice was nearer. I squeezed my eyes shut.

"What do we have here?"

"Do you like what you see?" My Dom asked.

He paused and answered lively. "Yeah, as a matter of fact. Is she for sale?"

My heart sank and jumped simultaneously when he said, "Yeah, for forty dollars. You can use my car up the street."

"Sure thing, buddy. You're all right."

"I know."

"Just one more thing, though…."

I couldn't believe what was happening. Didn't my Dom respect my body enough not to just give it away carelessly to a stranger? Didn't he respect my mind enough to understand that I wasn't going to enjoy either the act nor the humiliation associated with it? I thought he at least cared for me enough to know that I had limitations and wanted them to be respected. I was about to be on the verge of tears, not knowing how the night could get worst. But then it did.

The lurking stranger reached down into his shirt and pulled out a badge on a neck chain.

"I'm a police officer. And you're both under arrest."

Sub*lime- Final Part IV

*

"You're full of shit," my Dom spat skeptically.

"No shitting," the cop assured.

Then in a split second I was yanked forward as my Dom grabbed my wrist and decided to try and make a run for it.

" Halt! " the cop barked, then said to backup, " Guys, they're getting away!"

I managed to pull my top back up and cradled my bouncing chest with my free arm as we ran for our lives.

"I told you this was a dumb thing to do!" I cried.

" Shut the fuck up ."

My legs continued to pump as I heard car wheels screech behind me. An unmarked police car sped alongside us and its engine hummed aggressively. There was no way we'd get away, I miserably thought.

"Stop and get on the ground," a megaphone told us.

My Dom yanked me through a dark alleyway between a discount store and a Laundromat. We burst through on the other side and I threw a look back, seeing that detectives were pulling themselves out of the vehicle to run after us.

We sprinted up a hill. My legs were burning and my lungs were ready to give up. I knew I wouldn't be able to go much longer. Images of being fingerprinted and locked behind a cage door flashed through my mind. And what for? All so that my Dom could get some cheap sleazy kicks.

I knew he was exhausted, too, as we both involuntarily slowed down to a fast walk. We were nearing a red SUV parked on the curb. A guy was placing a large box inside.

"Hey, where's the fire?" he called to us good-naturedly.

He looked like a cross between a professional wrestler and a hippie. He had long, dry blond hair and a connecting beard and weighed at least 400lbs. An American flag-printed scarf was around his head, a leather vest on over a KISS T-shirt, and he wore beach trunks and dingy white sneakers.

"We… we're in a hurry, to get… home," My Dom gasped, then struggled hard to swallow. I'm sure his throat was as bone-dry as mines.

"You think… you could, give us, a lift?" He was already climbing into the back. I followed deep inside and doubled over, my body heaving. I wiped the sweat raining down my face. I was drenched in it.

We both panted like dogs and coughed as the wrestler/hippie slid the door closed, to my sweet relief. I wondered why he was being so helpful to perfect strangers as he struggled to pull himself inside and plop his body behind the stirring wheel. When he succeeded he exhaled victoriously.

"Hey, ya guys both sound parched. I got some cans of soda back there… watch out for the box, I got five pounds of live crabs in it."

We gulped the hot, bubbly drinks down, sitting very low in the seat. It was easy to since we were both exhausted. The guy started his ignition and the air conditioner blasted us with frosty wind and I felt like I was being sanctified.

We still gasped around ten minutes more. The guy was driving us down a two lane street, and the detective's car whizzed right by us without a clue. I took a deep breath, leaning my head back and resting my eyes. My hands still shook, but the terror and panic was departing my body.

"So, where ya two headed?"

"Home," my Dom replied and told him the street.

"Sure thing, but first let me drop off these blue shells at my joint."

"Thanks a lot, pal."

"The name's Bubba Jack."

"Wolfgang," my Dom lied. He didn't bother to offer a name for me, and neither did I.

Bubba Jack rambled on about his motorcycle which was in the shop, then jumped around to the subjects of Star Trek, Stephen Hawkings, and the Illuminati ruling the planet.

My Dom had relaxed and was participating in the conversation with amusement. I think he was actually giddy by the brush with the police and moreover that we had escaped. I rested my head in my hand, anxious to get back to the sanctum of home.

But our new friend offered us inside his apartment for something colder to drink. When my Dom agreed, I prayed that he didn't have anything else outrageous in mind.

"Does your companion talk?" Bubba Jack asked him.

My Dom took a long gulp of his wine cooler. "When I tell her to."

I sat next to him demurely on a red couch as dingy as Bubba's shoes. He smiled, speaking as if I wasn't even present.

"So… are you her pimp?"

"Master."

Bubba leaned his head to the side curiously. I darted my eyes around his crummy little place, filled with magazines and dusty books. A tank was in the corner with fish that didn't move. I cut my gaze away from it.

"Master? How's that?"

"She's my property, my piece of meat. Isn't that right?"

"Yes, Sir." I nodded.

"No fooling? So- she does everything ya tell her to?"

"Everything." He removed the leather slapper from his waistband.

"Swallow?"

"Swallow, rim, you name it."

A look of wonder and awe swept over his pudgy pale face. "God, did ya take a time machine back a couple of centuries? Where do I find one of those?"

My Dom only smiled and gulped more of his drink thirstily.

"And, uh, you guys had to run from the cops because you were pimping her?"

Still he didn't answer.

"I mean it's okay if ya were," Bubba quickly said. His eyes then scanned over my flesh nervously, and the hot soda and wine cooler started to toss and churned around in my stomach.

"She's not for sale," my Dom calmly explained, and my furrowed expression melted. I wanted to throw my arms around him and kiss his cheeks many times.

"So what were your running from? You pull a scam on someone out there?"

"We were in the wrong place at the wrong time."

"Look, I have three hundred dollars." Bubba stood up as if he were going to search for it. "I just need a woman, any woman, I don't care. I don't have the guts to blow my horn at a streetwalker, much less talk to normal woman. I just need someone… Even for one night."

Me and my Dom exchanged apprehensive stares. Bubba was turning out to be neurotic and weirder than I first thought. My Dom slid himself to the edge of his seat, preparing to stand.

"Look, she's my property. And she doesn't fuck for money, only for me. Me , and no other man."

Bubba seemed to have retrieved the money.

"I really hate that you said that."

He pulled his hand out of a side table drawer but instead of green paper I found myself staring at silver metal. My jaw dropped when I realized he was aiming a gun at us.

*

"Oh, God," I moaned under my breath. What a nightmare this escapade was turning out to be.

My Dom shot to his feet. "Just what do you want?"

"Stay right where you are, Boots, and ya won't get hurt."

" Answer my fucking question."

"Okay. I want your piece of meat. I told ya," his voice was soft. "I'd pay. And I mean that."

"You think I need your goddamn money?"

"I don't know. But I need your girl. And that's what I'm going to have."

My Dom looked disgusted. I glared at him, and had begun trembling again. I didn't know which one I despised more right then, that desperate, obese kook or "Wolfgang".

"You use that thing on her?" Bubba eyed the slapper.

"I own it, don't I? I use it."

"Well… use it on her now, if you don't mind…"

"Wolfgang" then gave me a look and saw my scowl aimed at him. He sadly lowered his eyes and, with the gun aimed at him, moved towards me.

"Do what ya two normally do," Bubba said.

Like my Dom, I had no choice but to comply. Standing to my feet, I turned away from him and he lifted my little skirt up and bent me over a little on the couch. He smacked my ass with the slapper without passion or enthusiasm, and I knew he was hating this as much as me.

"It's unbelievable that people actually get off on this type of thing," Bubba marveled.

My Dom took it upon himself to stop. He lowered my skirt soberly.

"Hey, I'd like to try that. Tie her hands up. Here, there's some twine in the drawer."

He reluctantly retrieved it and I placed my hands behind my back. He tied my wrists together then on Bubba's instructions I sat back down and "Wolfgang" started to secure my ankles together. Bubba intervened.

"No, I forgot, that would be dumb, wouldn't it? No, you just put your hands behind your back so I can tie you up."

My Dom did so, and Bubba waddled to grab more twine. It was horrible enough this guy was going to assault me; the thought of seeing my Dom being dominated- and by another guy at that- would be unbearable for me. Tears ran down my face.

He said to Bubba, "This is really fucked up what you're trying to do."

The guy blushed deeply. "I'm not a bad person, really. Try to understand. And don't worry, I'm not going to make you watch us…"

Bubba stood behind him with the thin rope. Needing both his hands free to use it, he placed his gun in his waistband. The second after he did my Dom spun around and grabbed it. I screamed. Bubba tried to pry the weapon away and the two struggled together like bulls locked at the horns.

I wriggled to pull myself loose and help, but damn Wolfgang, he tied an excellent knot. Bubba was gasping for breath and glistening with sweat, ready to collapse only after a minute. My Dom easily took control of the gun and walloped him across the face with it. Bubba shrieked like a schoolgirl cupped his nose.

Then the detectives burst through the front door and began firing their weapons, spraying all three of us with large-caliber bullets. The pain of each tearing into my flesh was excruciating and I screamed and bawled until I was piercing my own eardrums with my voice.

*

I lurched upward with a cry and realized that I was no longer on the stranger's couch, or even in his living room. There was no blood oozing from wounds in my body. No cops in the door way or fallen bodies laying at my feet; no Bubba Jack.

Finally realizing I had been dreaming the whole thing, I scanned my surroundings. My Dom was lying next to me lightly snoring. My garter stockings were twisted around on my legs, and my lacy red bra that unclasped from the front was strewn on his chair. Seeing that, stark disappointment struck me.

None of it had really happened. Everything had been a dream since the night of our supper date; our entire relationship and all he had taught me through domination had just been a product of my hyper-sexual subconscious. I choked out a disappointed sob and resentful tears swelled in my eyes. I felt cheated.

After a few moments of depression, I swallowed the huge lump in my throat and decided to lighten up. The date had gone very good, after all, and the sex was even better. It wasn't the end of the world. And maybe… just maybe my friend would be willing to explore my newfound desires with me. He had in fact pushed and bitten me, which was an interesting sign. That had been real.

I sat up to go get my half-drank cappuccino from the living room.

"Where are you going? I mean, like, you still owe me three hundred dollars worth of fucking."

I shot a look towards the familiar voice and saw Bubba Jack's enormous silhouette standing at the foot of the bed, before the window.

" What- " And I yelled out in horror.

"Why do you keep screaming for?" My friend uttered with irritation, and tossed himself over, slapping his pillow.

My eyes flung open, and I stayed perfectly still for about half a minute, until I was sure that I wasn't dreaming that time. Satisfied that I was awake, I was relieved to understand what was really going on. I wondered how long I had been tied to the beam asleep. My lips were chapped and abundant saliva had gathered in my mouth where the dildo was stuffed. My limbs had fallen asleep and my right buttock was numb. I called out to my Dom by moaning loudly in pain.

He came into the room, wiping his hands on a dishtowel. He wore a smirk. "Learn your lesson?"

" Mmmmmm … Mmmm mmmm ."

He removed the gag. My jaw cracked and was sore as I spoke. "Sir, I can't go out with you tonight, please understand my feelings. I'm not being a smart ass. I'm talking to you as a person, not a sub, and I'm asking you to listen the same way. Please don't expose me anymore to strangers."

He stood and frowned curiously. I could see that he was taking me seriously then. "What's wrong?"

"I don't like it. It scares me a whole lot. We could get arrested, or run across some sexual sociopath, or offend someone who might try to put us in our place or something like that and I just feel if we can prevent things like that from happening to us we should." The words tumbled from my mouth and I had to take a deep breath when I was done.

The nightmares I had awakened from had alarmed me a great deal, and I was still feeling the effects of them. It gave me the courage to speak my mind without caring about jeopardizing things with him.

After a few moments of staring silence, he said to me, "Relax. If you get that stressed out about it, we won't do it anymore."

"We won't?" My eyebrows arched high.

"No, we won't."

My mouth was parted as I continued to look at him. He must've known how hard I found his conceding because of what he said next.

"Listen, I take pride in being a good Dom. A big part of that is respecting a sub's limitations. We tried something, you despise it, so we can move on and focus on the things we both can enjoy together. You got that?"

I felt serenity then. "Yes, Sir."

"Now… is there anything else?"

"Yes, Sir. Do you know any men named Bubba?"

He snickered. "I don't think I will ever know any man named Bubba."

The energy between us became filled with mirth. He ushered me up and secured me in the bondage chair. He began to light small candles, and picked up his set of forceps, all for some great one-on-one play, in private .

The End