I had never considered myself a submissive woman in any facet of life – until five years ago, when I learned that in order to get the kind of sex I secretly craved, I needed to submit myself totally.
I was working at a public relations firm at the time. I had had an awful day-long meeting with representatives of the organisation I was commissioned to work for. They had been totally unrealistic about what was achievable in salvaging their company’s reputation.
They were a leading resources firm who had been in more than a bit of a pickle due to their unsound environmental practices on several fronts.
I left the meeting thinking: Fuck you, you deserve the reputation you have with a corporate attitude problem like that. However, as usual, my survival instinct kicked in as I thought about the prestige this particular assignment would afford me if it were successful. I was, above all, a realist, even if I disliked these people and what their organisation had done. If I didn’t do the job, I rationalised, someone else would. And as a single parent I really needed the money.
That evening my daughter was staying at her friend’s place, so I went shopping for the first time in weeks thinking it would help me forget about work for a while. After I’d purchased a shirt and a pair of trousers I went to a coffee shop. I took off my coat and put it over the back of my chair, ordered a coffee and cake and read a newspaper that had been left on the table beside me. When my coffee came I saw an attractive black man sitting about three tables away, looking at me. He did not avert his gaze when I saw him, in fact a faint smile crept over his face. I looked away and ignored him.
I went to the counter to pay. But the man who had been staring was at the counter too, chatting to one of the waitresses. After I paid, I struggled to put my coat on, and he said, “Please, let me give you a hand with that.”
I wanted to say, “no, it’s fine,” but he was already behind me with my coat. I slipped my arms easily into the sleeves and said “thanks,” and made my way to the door.
I was outside in the cold night air when I heard a voice say, “Hey, you forgot one of your shopping bags.”
The man who had helped me with my coat came up to me. I noticed this time he was very tall. He handed me the bag and I thanked him.
“No problem,” he said, smiling, and turned to walk away.
When I got home I went to try on the shirt and trousers I had purchased. When I took out the shirt, a piece of paper fell out of the bag. It didn’t look like a receipt and when I inspected it I saw it was a handwritten note. On it was the message: “I’d like to get to know you. Tom 6508 5223.”
Hmmm. Must be from the guy in the coffee shop, I thought. I couldn’t think of anyone else who the note could possibly be from.
At first I felt a little perturbed, but then found myself smiling. It had been a long time since someone had been so direct in propositioning me. Most men seemed to steer well clear of me now that I’d achieved a modicum of success.
Such audaciousness should be met head on, I thought, and I then decided I’d call this man soon.
I went to bed early to reinvigorate myself for the last day of the working week. But I awoke just past midnight writhing and sweaty, my hips squirming. It was obvious that I’d had some kind of sexual dream and that I’d been close to orgasm when I awoke. Strange, I thought, sex had not entered my mind to any degree after my last failed relationship more than half a year ago. And since then I’d submerged myself in work like never before, which, I gathered, had helped suppress my libido.
I then realised that the man in the dream had been like the man in the coffee shop: tall and black, with a forthright manner. He had ravished me and I had been a most willing participant. I was still aroused but decided to pop a sleeping pill so I wouldn’t be disturbed by the carnal contents of the dream again.
The next morning as I didn’t have to rush get my daughter off to school, I showered a bit more languorously than usual. It was then that I became aware that something had come over me. The warm water felt like soft jets of silk over my body. I dried myself softly and smoothed on some moisturising cream with long smooth strokes. I stared at my naked self in the mirror, and imagined those big black hands making their way over my pale skin. The phone rang, and I snapped out of my fantasy.
“Mum. It’s me,” I heard my daughter’s voice.
“Yes darling. Is everything okay?” I asked.
“Yes mum. Mrs Sanders just wanted me to call you to see if it’s okay if I can stay another night. Is that okay mum? Me and Polly are having such a good time.”
“Yes sure darling.”
I spoke to my daughter’s friend’s mother and she said she’d love to have my girl over for another night. So that was that. I had a Friday evening to myself now too.
I’d just stepped out the door when I decided to go back inside to get the note with the phone number on it. At lunchtime I called. It was an answer phone but the message gave a mobile number, which I called after hesitating a while.
“Hello,” I heard the deep voice at the other end.
“Yes hello,” I said. “This is Marissa, the lady from the coffee shop yesterday.”
“Oh hello,” he said, a keenness creeping into his voice. “How are you?”
“I’m well thanks, and you?”
“I’m just fine. Was hoping you’d call,” he laughed.
“Well, I’m calling,” I said a little nervously.
“Yes. I’m glad,” he said. “What I said in my note. I meant it. I just didn’t want the opportunity to slip by so took the initiative.”
“Well, yes,” I paused. “If you like – and I know this is a bit hasty – I am free tonight.”
“Are you?” he said, thinking out aloud, “Now let’s see. I can get out of my current engagement. It’s just casual drinks with some colleagues. Hold on. Can I call you back, what did you say your name was again?”
“Marissa,” I said, feeling like a nervous schoolgirl.
“Okay Marissa. I’ll call you back in ten.”
My phone rang. It was Tom. He could make it at eight. We arranged to meet at a local restaurant for a light meal. It was two in the afternoon and I still had a pile of work to get through from the meeting the day before. I ploughed into it until just past six, when I could not go on any longer.
I got home and soaked in the bathtub. I put on some fancy lingerie that had not had an airing for quite some time, and made my way by taxi to the restaurant.
I could see him in the amber light of the restaurant through the window. He seemed to be chatting with one of the waitresses. He is a flirt, probably a womaniser, I thought. What the hell am I doing here?
But I walked into the restaurant nonetheless driven by curiosity and what I supposed could only be desire.
He saw me enter and came up to greet me, kissing me on the cheek. “Glad we could get together so soon,” he said.
“Yes. Me too,” I said sitting down at the table, shuffling around a little to get comfortable after taking off my heavy winter coat.
“Drink?” he asked.
“Yes, I’d like a glass of red thanks,” I said.
He ordered a bottle of something that I knew wasn’t cheap. “You seem to know all the waitresses in town,” I joked.
“Hmm, so I should,” he replied. “My sister reviews restaurants and cafes for the local paper. Most know who I am as she likes to invite me to go along with her. I can’t resist a meal and convivial company.”
“Oh,” I said. “So I’m dining out with the right man?”
“I guess you are,” he laughed. “And by the way, you look just gorgeous.”
I had worn a fitted cerise skirt with a clingy floral shirt with a plunging neckline. My boobs weren’t that large but they had held their shape and showed nicely with the help of a bit of fortification. It was more provocative than my usual attire, but I was not in my usual frame of mind.
The wine came with the starters. I was beginning to feel relaxed and we talked about our respective careers and families. He was divorced with two children. They lived with their mother in another city not too far away. He was an environmental scientist working on land rehabilitation programs with the government. He was taken aback when I told him what my latest assignment was. He knew quite a lot about the transgressions of the company I was working for. “I hope they are paying you well,” he said.
“They are,” I said. “The amount they’re paying is perverse, actually, pact with the devil kind of stuff.”
“Hmm that’s to be expected from them, or so I hear on the grapevine. Pay ’em off to shut them up,” he said.
“Yes, I know,” I said, somewhat wearily. “I’m starting to feel kind of uncomfortable having taken this on. I’ve already been thinking of how to restore my karma bank. I hope to work for some good cause in my next assignment, or at least give a substantial amount of money to charity. But I just can’t let this one go now, I’m in too far. It could ruin my career to drop it now.”
“I understand,” he said. “But I’m kind of glad to be sitting opposite a woman with a guilt complex in full swing,” he said, a smile breaking through his mock seriousness.
“Oh?” I said inquisitively.
“I’m sure it will enhance my uses for you,” he said cryptically.
“Uses? What do you mean?” I said, worried now. He was picking expertly at the schnapper on his plate, and I was waiting for him to look up and answer my question.
“You’ll find out if you stick with me for a while,” he said, finally gazing steadily at me. “If I haven’t scared you off already.” I then felt his foot on my leg under the table, and could feel myself starting to blush.
“You’re very forward aren’t you, in some ways,” I said, gathering back some of my cockiness.
“Yes I am,” he said. “Can’t see the use of being circumspect with women any more. There’s not much time for pleasure in life, and I intend to make the most of the times I have.”
“Okay,” I said, “I suppose that’s a fairly realistic philosophy. I should subscribe to it.”
“You should,” he said, pausing for a moment. “And why not start right now by going into the ladies room and removing your panties.”
It was not so much a request, but a statement; one that, surprisingly, electrified me. I was too stunned to argue.
“Okay,” I said. “I have no idea why I’m going along with you on this.”
I went to the ladies room and took off my lacey purple underwear and put them in my handbag. I could see they were already wet with anticipation. And there was my reason for going along with the wishes of this dark stranger: for the first time in months I felt desired.
When I walked back to the table, he grabbed me gently and said, “Come here and let me feel your arse.” I stopped beside him and his hands went slowly over my bottom cheeks, and then a hand went to go up my leg, at which point I pulled away.
“Okay. I’m satisfied that you are free of them,” he grinned approvingly as I sat down. I was now thankful that we were at a corner table where we weren’t going to draw too much attention.
He handed me something in a small velvet bag. “I want you to insert this in yourself.”
I opened the little bag’s drawstrings and could see a small transparent pink silicone bullet that contained a tiny battery and some other small device. I was not particularly shocked, but I was a little unnerved by my willingness to comply with his increasingly risqué requests.
“Okay,” I said, looking at him squarely as I lifted my skirt under the table and wriggled discreetly to insert the little bullet. “Done.”
“Excellent,” he said. “You sure you haven’t done this kind of thing before?” he laughed.
“Never,” I said. And then he grabbed the hand that had inserted the bullet into my vagina, put it into his mouth, and sucked it.
“Now that tastes good,” he said. “Better than any meal I’ve every had.”
“Thanks,” I said breathlessly, unable to say much as the little bullet was starting to vibrate more fiercely than its size indicated it was capable of.
“You are almost at my mercy,” he said, not in a disrespectful way, but in a way that said he knew that I would now do almost anything to slake the other hunger that had been roused within me.
He paid the bill and thanked the chef for an excellent meal. As we stepped out from the warm glow of the restaurant into the cold night air, the little bullet sat motionless inside me, and I was busting to have something more substantial take its place.
We made steady strides down the pavement. He had his long and solid arm around me and I felt safe with him even though he was still largely an unknown quantity.
Even when he swung me into a dark alleyway I wasn’t frightened. In fact I felt strangely energised by his bold manoeuvres, maybe because I had become accustomed to men pussy-footing around me. He grabbed me too him and kissed me frenetically and reached into my coat for my boobs, which stung exquisitely as they were exposed to the brisk air. By now I had my hand down his trousers and he was quickly undoing them.
“Suck me,” he said. Without fuss I got down on my knees onto the damp hard ground and took out his dick. It was fully erect, and although the light was dim in the alleyway apart from the occasional headlights that flashed obliquely over us, I could see that his dick was substantial. I ran my fingers over it slowly and could feel the ridges of the warm pulsing vessels that fed it.
I took the smooth slopes of the head into my mouth and rolled my tongue around it and poked lightly into the pee hole. I could feel his dick flinch in my mouth and heard him sigh. I then grabbed his balls and held them quite firmly in one hand while I put the fingers of my other hand around the base of his dick. I then started to move my mouth down the length slowly and became more persistent as I felt him get even harder.
He held my head firmly in place at his groin. Usually if this happened I would have told the guy to stop it or risk being bitten. However, it felt right that he should be a little overly insistent on this cold night in the alleyway.
“Suck me. Suck me you slut,” he said repeatedly. “I’m going to come down your throat like there’s no tomorrow and you’re going to swallow all of it.” This only increased my fervour and I kept at it like a woman possessed.
I then felt a mini surge through his dick, and his thick sperm came shooting into my mouth. I gulped it up and licked every last drop off his flagging cock.
“You ‘re a natural,” he said, ruffling my hair. It was not until I stood up that I realised that my own fluids were flowing. As if he sensed it, he reached slowly up my skirt, and felt the wetness there.
“You are ready. But you’ll have to work for it a little more,” he said, matter of factly.
On the way to his car he explained himself a little. “I can only get my rocks off if I dominate the proceedings, as you’ve probably gathered. I wasn’t sure if you ‘d take to the subordinate role. But I can see that it’s a big turn on for you.”
“Yes. I think it may be,” I said, getting into his car. “I am surprised.”
“Most are,” he laughed. “Believe me. It is not that I disrespect you when I act like this. In fact I respect you even more for giving me your trust to allow me to take control.”
“Hmm. Okay,” I said a little sceptically.
As we pulled out of the parking lot he said: “Now, it’s a short drive to my place. So let me see your nice wet cunt spread wide next to me and show me what I’m going to be getting soon.”
I lifted my skirt and spread my legs as wide as the confines of the vehicle would allow me.
“Now sit like that until we get to my place. I know you want to play with yourself. But you’re not allowed to.”
“God,” I said, “I need to be fucked. I can’t wait any longer.” I was surprised at the low growl that had permeated my voice.
“Good,” he said, turning into his driveway.
Once inside his house, he fetched two drinks and told me to sit on the lounge and undress and wait for him. By now I was doing as I was told automatically, without batting an eyelid.
He came back. All he said was “good”, and then sat down on a lounge chair opposite me taking slow sips of his drink, staring into the mid distance. He had changed into a green silk morning coat and I could see his long black limbs for the first time. I was now aching for him to touch me but was seriously starting to think that he was loosing interest in me.
After a long five minutes, he said from his chair: “Okay, now get onto all fours with your arse facing me. I want to see what I am going to be fucking and I want you to play with yourself. I want to see you open up for me baby.”
I got on all fours and was relishing the thought of him focused wholly on me, willing his dark body closer to mine. I started to touch myself and could feel my slippery swollen vulva underneath my fingers. I was rubbing myself but wanted something more: I was bursting for him to get his dick into me.
I was finally concentrating on my pleasure and getting close to orgasm when I felt a hard slap on my arse – and then another, and another. “What a nice firm juicy arse you have,” he said, laying his hand down hard on it once more, “You have the kind of arse that screams out ‘fuck me’. I could see that straight away when you took your coat off to sit down in that coffee shop. ‘That’s my arse to fuck’, I thought then, and I’m thinking it now.” He whacked me once again and rubbed his big black hand gleefully over the stinging patch of red he’d made.
“Oh please,” I said. “Just do what you want with me, as long as you fuck me. Just fuck fuck me!” I begged, craning my head back to look at him in desperation.
“Hmmm. Now let me see.” He was rubbing my arse firmly still. His hand went between my legs. He stuck his fingers in my pussy and I let out a shrill yelp. Then I felt his tongue inside it, and then on my clit, and then felt it sweep back up again, and then, to my surprise, it went into my arsehole. I was amazed how sensitive it was. I had never been licked there before. Most, I guess, strategically avoided it. However, I could tell by the sensations I was getting from his tongue that even though I’d never had anal sex before, I now wanted it, and I wanted it more than anything I’d ever wanted.
I could feel something cold and slippery being rubbed into my arse. It was lubricant, and he was joyfully rubbing it into me, putting one, then two fingers in, and having a good poke around. “Okay,” he said. “I am going to fuck your arse now baby. So hold on. But first, I need to do something.” He then put a large handkerchief in my mouth and tied it behind my head: I was gagged.
I then felt his dick forging into the resistance of my sphincter. He was not pushing through like a bulldozer; it was an insistent probing, bit by bit, priming it to open up, to succumb. I was screaming into the handkerchief and my body clenched upwards with the pain of it. He rubbed my back and said, “Take it easy baby, it’s not long now. Keep your body straight, that will make it easier.” I then understood that he was not intending to hurt me, not at all: It was just the pain that was necessary to get where we were going. And then the head of his dick popped through the glorious tightness, and I felt a surge of pleasure and relief as the length of his cock finally entered me.
He was slow at first, and then the pace quickened. It was a different kind of sensation that I was used to. But one thing was for certain: it was a completely overwhelming and it was utterly pleasurable. I was now meeting every thrust with a countermovement, ensuring his dick was gulped up deep inside me. I looked over my shoulder and could see his big black hands firmly gripping my pale hips, and I felt reassured that in his own peculiar way, he had my pleasure in mind as much as his own.
On the outward stroke, I could feel the wide mushroom rim of his penis pressing on the inside of my sphincter. The muscle kept his dick neatly clamped inside me. It felt like nothing I could ever have imagined. I was thankful that he had gagged me, as my guttural bellowing would surely have woken up the whole neighbourhood.
“Rub your clit,” he said. And I did, and it was not long until the first orgasm swept over me, rocking my body like it was at the epicentre of a mini earthquake. I swore like a crazed woman into the now sodden handkerchief.
“I’m going to come inside you, you slut. I know you’ll love that,” he said, groaning. “I’m going to shoot it deep inside your arse.”
After a few more deep thrusts I could feel the warmth of his thick cum invading my arsehole. To my surprise, yet another dazzling wave of pleasure pulsated through my vulva and up through my back, belly and legs.
I then felt his wet warm body on my back, and he lightly touched my belly, tits and face. He then took his half flaccid dick out of me and we collapsed on the sofa. I knew then that I would never have dared to find this new way of giving and receiving pleasure had I not had the wherewithal to let him take control.
I now saw the tantalising possibility of expanding my sexual horizons beyond the standard menu. I saw Tom for over a year and he ensured that we were engaged in ever more kinky and risqué encounters – ones that took us to the brink of sexual craziness. He then introduced a friend, another black man called Nate, and it got even wilder. So wild in fact, that I ended up losing my job, for reasons I won’t fully explain here, other than that it was related to my association with Tom and his friend.
Despite this, I am eternally thankful to Tom for showing me that the simple but brave act of submission can bring about such extraordinary pleasure.