He knew I was a submissive slut with one look. Guys just know. They do. I make eye contact, them my eyes drop because I am afraid. Afraid he will own me, afraid he won’t own me. I know that is contradictory, but what I want often gets me in trouble and I am rational enough to know that, but powerless to stop it. I wasn’t at a fetish club. It was 80s night at a local club. I went with some girlfriends. It was not supposed to be a submissive night. I was just having fun with my friends. But when you are a submissive whore, you can’t put your lifestyle on hold. He signaled me too him and I couldn’t resist. He had beautiful mistake written all over his face. I knew he was trouble, but I like bad boys. We danced for about 20 minutes, before he took me into the men’s room. There is only one reason a woman goes into a public men’s restroom. I went willingly. I might as well have been wearing a t-shirt that said, “Down to Fuck.” No woman gets treated well in a men’s room either. I was on all fours in a dirty bathroom. There was piss and water and bits of toilet paper sticking to my knees as I got sodomized in a stall. He tried to flush my face in the toilet, but I resisted. I didn’t want to go back to my friends looking like my head had been flushed in the toilet. I was trying to save face, but a subby bitch has no face to save. He made it clear that what I wanted didn’t matter. I knew it all along. I submitted to the humiliation he wanted to inflict on me. I went back to my friends smelling like a toilet with cum running out of my ass down my legs. They just gave me the face palm and acted like they didn’t know me. That is why I rarely go out with friends. They are ashamed of me.
Bernice
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