The Path to Submission Ch. 02

Literotic asexstories – The Path to Submission Ch. 02 by Zuzanna,Zuzanna
That first flight, fully qualified, was much the same as any other. A crying baby, a couple of complaints about food, one attempted grope and a bumpy landing. That just about sums it up.

But then Dubrovnik. Amy felt a surge of excitement as she disembarked and made her way through the busy airport. She and most of the other crew members had only an overnight bag so it was not long before they emerged to find the van that would take them to their hotel. Everyone was chatting and laughing on the short journey. She took no notice when the co-pilot put his hand on her shoulder and briefly touched her hair. With an itinerary already set up, she had no intention of spending the evening with her colleagues, so felt little concern about this unwanted attention.

The others seemed especially pleased that they would be staying in the Dubrovnik Hilton. This was apparently unusual and Amy could not understand why being at a Hilton would excite them. But when they arrived, she quickly appreciated that this was indeed quite a treat. The building itself, glowing white in the sunshine, was quite classical in design. More than that, it was just a stone throw from the old city walls. Amazing, she thought – I won’t even need a cab.

As they checked in, John (the co-pilot) sidled up and put his arm around her waist. She promptly twisted away, but all he did was mutter ‘Maybe later’ and she heard a light chuckle as he turned to pick up his key. She realised now that he’d been right behind her throughout the check-in process and knew which room she was in. Hurrying away, she made it into the elevator, squashing in with a loud and rather over-sized family whose luggage told her they were from Texas.

Her room was pretty amazing too – tastefully furnished, with a large double bed and a well equipped bathroom. The best bit was the view — looking left to the city walls and straight ahead a view out to the sea. But she didn’t want to linger and rapidly stripped off her uniform and underwear to take a quick shower. The water felt good on her body, refreshing after the flight. She washed her hair, eliminating the smell of airline food. She went out to the bedroom wrapped in a towel, another around her head, and opened her bag to pull out the few clothes she had brought, a small make up bag and some toiletries. Back in the bathroom, she cleaned her teeth and applied mascara, some face cream and just a touch of lipstick. Her towel slipped and she let it drop: her breasts – perky rather than large – came into view. She liked her breasts. 34B seemed a good size, notable but not inconvenient. Seeing herself in the mirror, she admired her body, pleased that she kept so fit, that she never had to worry or feel embarrassed when she wore lighter clothes or ventured to the gym, the pool or the beach.

Glancing down, she remembered her decision a few months ago to shave off all her body hair. She wasn’t quite sure why she had done it, certainly not for anyone else’s benefit. No one else knew, no one else had seen. At the time she had found the process exciting, this new level of nudity had somehow felt daring. And when she finished, she had leant back against the wall in her shower and masturbated, a powerful orgasm leading her to crouch down as the water cascaded onto her back. Seeing herself now, that memory caused her momentarily to reach down, her fingers moving over her smooth, hairless mound and creeping between her legs. “No”, she whispered to herself, “not now, not yet”. Grabbing the hair dryer, she quickly made herself look good, thankful that her hair, while quite long, was so trouble-free. Dirty blond, framing her large blue eyes and full lips.

A pair of jeans, sandals, a T-shirt. White lacy underwear — she liked the feel and the look, even though it was just for her. A small shoulder bag. Credit cards. Check: ready to go. She almost skipped out of the room and to the elevator, through the lobby and out to the heat of the late afternoon. As she walked down the steps to the sidewalk, she noticed a cat dozing on the wall beside her, lazily raising its head. For a moment, she stopped, spoke to it softly. The cat yawned, closed its eyes and promptly lay its head back down. What a life, thought Amy.

Dubrovnik was beautiful, everything she’d hoped for. The old buildings, winding streets, climbing up to look down on high to the sea. Then on to the harbour where she lingered for a while, imagining the history of this place, soaking up the atmosphere. Then the crowds started getting to her and she moved on, though everywhere now the streets were full as people came out to the bars and restaurants.

The sight and smell of food reminded Amy that she’d hardly eaten — she was past hungry, but her empty stomach yearned for some food! Pushing her way through the crowds, she left the main thoroughfare and headed again up the hill towards the rocky promontory that gave the city its dominance over the sea. On her route, she found a small bar and bistro, with a few outdoor tables and a couple were empty.

A glass of wine. Some olives. Sparking water. Hummus. Bread. Then a salad. More wine. She felt relaxed, happy, people-watching, occasionally picking up her phone, scanning messages, the day’s news. She wasn’t big into social media, life had always been too busy. The waiter returned. Did she want anything else? No, it was time to pay and wander again. The sun had disappeared now, the dusk settling in, lights coming on. Guiltily, she realised she had no change, nothing to tip the waiter. After her years of working in the restaurant, she hated leaving without some acknowledgement. Her apology was met with a slight shrug, a half smile, as if to say “It’s normal”.

And with that, she was gone, deciding to climb again to the top, to look out over the darkening view and down onto the sparkling lights of the city. Up there, it was still and quiet. She could imagine in centuries past the night watch, the loneliness in looking out for seaborne raiders or an invasion fleet. And then she heard footsteps. She had company.

At first she ignored them. Two, perhaps three, male voices. Leaning against the parapet off to her right, near the top of the steps. When they didn’t move, she decided it was time to go and headed across to start her descent. “Hey”, said one of them, “you admire the view?”

“Yes” she replied, “but it’s enough now. I’m heading down”.

“Stay a while, where are you from? We just took a wrong turn, but there’s a great bar up here somewhere”.

“Really?” said Amy. “I don’t know, it’s my first time here, I must get back to my friends now.”

One of the guys moved and she realised he was blocking the steps. They were all in their early twenties, Eastern European, she couldn’t tell more than that. She stepped forward, about to say ‘excuse me’ and push past, when one of them caught hold of her. The others immediately stepped in, putting her in the centre of a triangle.

“You know you’re cute?” said the one who had spoken first. “Yeah”, added another, “just come for a drink with us. Have some fun”.

“Thanks”, replied Amy, deciding it was best to appear polite and remain calm, “but not tonight – I’m tired, I just flew in today and my friends are waiting just down there”.

She noticed one of them glancing down the steps, but at the same time the one behind her put his hands on her waist.

“Come on, it’s a waste for someone as pretty as you to head off so early. What about us poor guys?” She tried to twist away but they were surrounding her and she simply bumped up against one of them, who promptly reached around to grasp her ass and pull her firmly against him. She tried to push him away, but felt the hands on her waist were now under her T-shirt and on her skin. Meantime, the third one was starting to feel her breast and his other hand was on the front of her thigh.

“No, let me go!”

She tried to push them away, but hands were crawling all over her now, on her stomach, her breasts, and trying to push between her legs. One was starting to push her bra up, while she realised another was fiddling with her jeans, unfastening them, ready to plunge inside.

“Stop!” She shouted as loud as she could, pushing, stamping on their feet, yet knowing she was helpless, that she would simply be overpowered. Already those fingers had discovered her secret, that she was shaved.

And then, suddenly, they stepped back, laughing, smirking as she stumbled from the sudden release, watching as she pulled her jeans up, buttoned them, adjusted her bra — and bolted down the steps.

“Maybe tomorrow?” one of them called.