Mr. Asshole, My Submissive Super

By Goddess_Meanie


Let Me tell you about me. I mean, what I want you to know. I really do enjoy the life I live; I wouldn’t trade it for the world. It wasn’t always good though. All my experiences have brought me to where I am today. I like to think I’m a great judge when it comes to people. I can spot a weak man a mile away, and once I have them in my grasp, I do what I want with them. I have so many stories, but I’ll tell you the most recent. It still makes me chuckle to this day, how weak the average man is for a woman who knows her power.

So I moved into a new apartment in a local suburb. When I went to see it, I was dressed down from my normal, all-black ultra-domme attire. I didn’t want to identify myself, shit I didn’t have to. My normal job as an editor did well enough to cover my rent and living expenses. I decided on Workout attire with Adidas shell-toes to finish the look. I mean, I didn’t think I would attract a sub in what I had on. When I got there, I was told to ring the bell, and the super would let me in. I rang 2G, and out came a tall guy who seemed angry already, muttering into a phone while he let me into the building. We didn’t speak at all, and that was fine with me because I was fascinated with what I knew was going to be my new apartment. I checked fixtures and door locks, windows, and all the amenities, all while he continued to argue on the phone, all while keeping his eyes on me. I was okay with him ignoring me while I looked around, but his unpleasant muttering and eye-rolling while I stood there waiting for more information burned my wick very fast.

“Okay!” I stomped my foot and yelled.

He hung his phone up, eyes on me.

“Tell me who to speak to about my deposit.”

My eyes were piercing through him, and I saw in his eyes what I knew oh so well. He remained quiet and lowered his eyes to his shirt pocket, and pulled out a card, and handed it to me. My eyes still lasering him to pieces, I snatched the card and walked past him, who I now dubbed ‘Mr. Asshole,’ and went on about my day.

Flash forward to two weeks later, a few days after I moved in. I still had a few boxes left to unpack, and the place was coming across nicely. I was done with my editing work, but I had a video chat session with one of my overseas slaves, Michael, from Denmark. Michael is my closeted cock loving submissive. He enjoys times where I humiliate him and make fun of his tiny penis. His dicklette is four inches hard, so I make him worship my 12-inch strap-on cock. It’s big and black, and he loves it. So I’m deep in the middle of a session, all dressed in black lace body net, blazing red lipstick, and my strapon when there’s a knock on the door.

I rush to the peephole and who is it, but the super, Mr. Asshole. I’m still worked up and quite horny from watching Michael toy himself with a lotion bottle. My strap-on is leaning against the door while I try and get this asshole away from my door. Shit, at least until I’m finished and properly dressed. I try to make up a lie.

“Hi, there, what’s up? I’m on a business call; can you come back in an hour?” I said.

It seemed like this asshole could smell the latex. The man wouldn’t go the fuck away. “Uh, the boss sent me over to put those fuses into the box back there in the master closet,” he said.

I just wanted him to fucking leave.

“This is a very important call. Can you come back?”

My nipples pressed against the heavy cold steel door. The sweat I had started to wear like a shiny highlight was beginning to dry up, and I started to feel cool again, but Mr. Asshole was super persistent and needed to enter and do whatever he was saying. It totally slipped my mind that he was supposed to be stopping by. That was the only reason I answered the door. I ran to get my robe, and when I got back to my computer, Michael had already finished and excused himself. I picked my thick black robe, the only one heavy enough to cover my cock and for it to not make a dick teepee. I slid open the locks and let him inside.

I cannot lie; Mr. Asshole was kind of sexy now that I got a good look at him. Very tall and very sexy but still very much an asshole. He stepped in and looked down at me, his eyes looking and saying something they totally shouldn’t right now. I made sure my strap-on couldn’t be seen and moved to the side, pointing to the bedroom. While I walked behind him, I remembered everything I left out in plain sight. My paddle, other dildos, and my 6-inch stiletto heels were on the floor. When he stepped into the room, he walked to the middle and turned around to me. I never heard his voice so calm and nice.

“I knew you were a Dominatrix. I just knew it,” he said.

His eyes went back to the floor. He went into his back pocket and took out his wallet. His eyes met mine, and before I could speak and say ‘I’m not your Goddess,’ he threw it to the floor and dropped to his knees. His eyes dropped back to the floor, and his hands rested calmly folded behind his back. For some reason, I picked up and opened the wallet. A thick layer of hundred dollars was inside.

“For you… For a bit of your time, Goddess, please,” he begged.

I couldn’t see much of a bulge through his blue dickeys work pants. I knew that thing there was the source of a lot of the shit in his life; his small dick and the ladies who were cruel about it. Why do I always attract these losers? I guess I am not like a regular woman, though. I had other plans for Mr. Asshole and his anger problem. I stepped into my heels and sat in my leather office chair, robe still on.

“You knew I was a Goddess, elaborate,” I said, my eyes burned into his soul.

He answered, “Yes, I knew from the way you talked, I knew from the way you made me pay attention, I knew from the way….”

I cut him off.

“This is all for me?” I said while fanning myself with what seemed like close to 35 hundred dollars.

“Yes, Goddess, it is.” He continued, “It’s the only way a man like me can get a woman as amazing as you.”

His eyes were still facing the floor. I’m getting slightly aroused by how submissive he was. I threw his money into my closet and stood from my chair. I dropped my robe. His eyes surveyed my whole body, starting at my high heels, drinking in my long brown legs and thick thighs, eyeing my garter belt and small belly, panning up to my large DDD titties, and back down focused on my strap-on. A small wet spot appeared next to his pant pocket—precum. Flashes inside my mind were of all the sordid, filthy shit I enjoy doing to entitled, good-looking submissive men I came across. I stepped a bit closer. Close enough for him to smell the fresh latex of my cock that now faces level to him, but too far for him to reach out and touch. I began to command him and start what ended up to be the beginning of something much better than I thought.

“Take off your shirt…” I ordered, and he did.

“Stand”

“Pants”

He did as he was told and, in the end, was left with that tiny dicklette of his just poking through his boxer hole. I ordered him back to his knees. God, where do all these pathetic cocks come from? Aren’t there any decent men out there anymore? Just these small dick babies who want punishment for being so useless and inadequate with their itty-bitty-clitty dicks.

“You tried your hardest to get here, slave. You know I’m a Goddess, but you had no idea I’m a Pegger, a taker of men,” I said,

I was now in full form, talking in my most dominant tone, standing with arms crossed, proud shiny cock ready, thirsty, and anticipating the worship that was to follow.

“On your knees, Asshole! Come, service my big black cock.”

He dropped down and stopped. Then he shook his head as if in a trance and continued to crawl to me on all fours. Eyes never meeting mine, he sat back and opened his mouth.

“Look up at me, baby dick bitch. Look your Goddess in the eye.”

He did. I slid my cock onto his lips. His tongue met my shaft and proceeded to lick the bottom and around the head of my cock, looking at me. I stepped back and made him crawl to me again. I wanted him to beg.

“Beg me to show you how to be my baby dick bitch.”

Big time Mr. Asshole’s baby dick was on his hands and knees, in my apartment naked, begging me to fuck his mouth like a silly white college girl with her very first black cock. All I could do is despise the pathetic man. His raging stiffy was proof he was enjoying this scenario.

“Please, Goddess,” he begged. “Make me your baby dick bitch. Please fuck me with your big black cock. Please.”

This time when he crawled over, it wasn’t going to be nice. He opened his mouth wide, and I met his throat with the head of my strap-on. His tight mouth could barely fit around it, but that didn’t seem to present a problem. His throat was very deep, and I was able to stroke his mouth in and out, out and in, deep to make him gag, and just the tip at times, to watch the spittle drip on the sides of my shaft and his mouth too. He was a true cock hungry sissy boy. He let me grab his hair, slap his cheeks, and using no hands, just a heavy deep throat. It was after I told him he was a pathetic sissy cock slut and spat down into his face that he squirts his pathetic load all over my patent leather heels.

I came too from fucking his mouth like that, but he’d never know. I laughed inside when he had his orgasm because, like any pathetic baby dick man who’s used to only trying to please regular women, he thought this encounter was over once he came. But boy, was this asshole wrong. I hated when I got cum on my shoes. It happened often, and when it did, there was always cleaning in order. Here was this huge, creamy, gooey weeks’ worth of baby dick batter on my shoe, and Mr. Asshole looking up at me again, those fucking eyes, that three-inch dripping dicklette, and all I wanted to do was make him a worse sissy than he already is.

“You’ve ruined my shoe, you nasty cocksucking, sissy bitch. I want you to clean them off with your tongue.”

His eyebrows raised, but he didn’t make a sound.

I continued, “When you suck cock like that, you need to know what cum tastes like. Clean my shoe properly. You cock craving baby dick sissy.”

I sat back down in my chair, crossing my legs, making the soiled, high heel eye level to him. No eye contact, he proceeded to lick his cum off my shoe, first wincing at the salty taste, then slurping up the rest, and looked up at me with fire in his eyes. I stood in front of him, then thrust his upper body forward and onto the swivel chair. Now his ass bent over and arms in the armrest loops of my office chair, just where I wanted him. I could tell he never had this, but he needs it. I reached into my bureau and retrieved my lube, Magnum condom, and latex gloves.

Mr. Asshole didn’t move. I greased up and got on my knees behind him. I poured a bit into and onto his asshole. I rested the head of my strap-on right at his tight little man pussy, he wiggled a bit, and I stood up. I squatted down, pushed myself inside, and put my hands spread on his waist.

Mr. Asshole wasn’t a professional ass fuck by any means. He cried, yelped, wiggled, and bit the chair cushion. I had to pull him back, re-lube, and hate fuck Mr. Assholes cunt until I thought he would cry, and he kinda did after some intense long strokes where my thighs met his ass with a loud slap. Who knew an anal virgin would take all of me, repeatedly, until his little cock spit cum again, no hands. He ruined my floor, but I was OK with that. I used his work shirt to wipe the floor and threw it at him as he used his underwear as a dick and ass wipe. He threw his underwear in the garbage and stuck that baby dick back in his work pants.

Like a good slave, he knew he couldn’t use my bathroom. After stepping back into his boots and smoothing out his cum stained shirt, he led the way to the door, and I followed, robe less, heels clicking behind him. Never speaking a word to one another, I just listened to his boots hit the steps and the clicking of my locks.

There goes another baby dick asshole put in his place.

Fucking baby dick, men.

The End.

 

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