Stranger on the Subway

Her name was Ava, and she loved being treated like shit.

Not by just anyone, of course. For instance, in her professional life, she demanded respect and tolerated nothing less. Not that Ava was a ball-breaker by any means; she just happened to carry herself in such a way that commanded professional courtesy, nothing more, nothing less. The industry in which she worked was male-dominated, but she never had a problem with the men with whom she came into contact. In her personal life, which she kept completely separate from work, she found the men that treated her as an equal to be the most attractive. The ones that listened to her, respected her thoughts and opinions, and treated her well were the ones most likely to receive kisses and promises of second dates at the end of the first.

Except for one. But then, Ava never really considered him to be a man she "dated." That word implied dinners and movies, dancing and walks on the beach. No, this one was simply a fuck.

And he treated her like shit.

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His name was Guy. He had a last name, but Ava didn't bother to remember it. He had a job, a career, but Ava didn't bother remembering what that was, either. In fact, there wasn't much Ava remembered about Guy, except for what he did to her.

They met by chance, on an overcrowded subway she took to meet some friends for dinner. During an influx of passengers, she had been shoved into the seat next to him. Looking down, she noticed his reading material. It was a pornographic magazine, something he would've picked up God-only-knows-where. Ava was immediately offended by the sight of a restrained blonde being violated every which way by three different men; she tried to ignore the feeling the picture caused in her pussy. She looked up, trying to catch his eye so she could give him a dirty look. Eventually, he noticed her gaze and raised his eyes from the magazine.

They came to rest on her breasts. She blushed, wishing that she were still in her suit from work. Instead, she was wearing a low-cut, form-fitting black sweater. The overcrowded car had little ventilation, and the exposed cleavage was covered by a thin sheen of perspiration. Her nipples hardened, knowing not only what the man was looking at, but what he was thinking. At her reaction, his eyes continued up, eventually stopping at her face. Ava expected him to look contrite, at the very least, but that wasn't what she got.

He smirked at her.

She knew she should be offended, but the reaction was the opposite. She squirmed in her seat, feeling herself getting wet. God, this was making her hot.

He closed the magazine.

"Can I help you?" She asked, trying to regain control of the situation. If only she could remember how to be her normal, professional self...

"No, actually," he replied, finally closing the offending magazine. "But I think I can help you."

"Excuse me?" She threw herself into Bitch Mode, trying to put him off. He seemed amused.

"You need me." He leaned in and whispered. His breath was hot, and the sensation of it in her ear sent shivers up her spine.

"Oh, you think so?" Ava tried to scoot away in the seat, but was blocked by the other passengers.

"Yeah." He was still looking at her, and she wondered if he was as hot as she was. "I'm getting off at the next stop. You're coming with me."

"What?" She couldn't help but ask.

"You heard me."

She looked at her watch. Her friends were expecting her in 30 minutes, but this was just too interesting to explore. And although she wouldn't normally talk to strangers on the train, much less take them up on an invitation to accompany them home, she couldn't help herself.

He stood up as the train approached the next station, and she followed. He walked in front of her, clearing a path through the crowds, but never actually allowing her to walk next to him. Even when they reached street level and the empty sidewalks, Ava stayed a few steps behind him, not really minding the subservient role she was taking. If anything, it made her more curious and a little hotter. And wetter.

The apartment was small, but clean. The furniture was old, warn. From the pictures and framed sheet music on the walls and the guitar standing in the corner, she concluded that he was a musician. She didn't really care to ask; that wasn't what she was after.

He took off his coat and threw it over a chair. As he turned to face her, she got a better look at his body. He was tall and lean, slouching slightly. He had dark hair hanging over what could be perceived as a brooding face. He wasn't the kind of guy she normally went after, but then, she wasn't normally following guys home, either.

He looked her up and down, taking his time, but she didn't feel self-conscious as he did it. She worked out, dressed well, knew she looked good. Finally, he crossed the room and stood in front of her, forcing her to look up at him.

"Get on your knees." He hadn't spoken since they left the station, and the command surprised her. But she obeyed. He unbuckled his belt.

"Open my pants." Ava hesitated, and he grabbed her by her hair, close to the scalp. He forced her to look up at him. "Do it."

Wincing, Ava reached forward to the waistband of his jeans. She curled her fingers inside and felt him shudder at the touch of her cold fingers. The heat of his skin and the muscles she felt against the backs of her fingers turned her on. She released the top button, then the next. As she worked her way down, she felt him harden.

"Take it out."

His fingers were still tangled in her hair as she released him. He was at least eight inches of hard, throbbing muscle. She immediately took him into her mouth, caressing the head with her tongue.

He yanked her head away. "I didn't say you could do that," he warned. But he had to admit, she was good. She looked up at him, begging with her eyes. "You have to ask for it."

"Please," she sighed. "Just let me taste it." He released his grip slightly, without completely releasing her hair. She leaned forward, again taking the head into her mouth. She raised her hands, massaging his cock as she bobbed on it slowly. After a few moments, he resumed his grip on her hair and pulled her up, making her rise to her feet. Saliva was dripping from her mouth. He lowered his head and kissed her. Just as she began to respond, he pulled back.

"Into the bedroom," he ordered, his voice hoarse. He dropped his hand, releasing her. She followed him further into the apartment.

The bedroom was sparsely furnished, consisting of a queen-sized bed and a brown recliner. As she entered the room, he turned around.

"Take off your sweater." At that point, she would have done anything for him; all she wanted was that cock. She pulled the sweater over her head, revealing a black lace bra. Her panties were soaked. He sat on the edge of the bed. "I want to fuck your mouth again."

She knelt in front of him, pulling his cock out of his pants. She marveled again at its size before licking it from base to head. He sighed, returning his hands to her head. She took him into her mouth and bobbed, his hands forcing her head farther and farther down. "Oh, God," he said. He was deep in her throat, and she was getting off on the choking sensation. Just as she thought she would pass out, he would let her head up slightly. After the fourth time, he stopped her. "Get up."

Ava stood, her pussy crying out to be filled. Her panties had long since been soaked, and she was dying to be fucked. She wanted to ask him, but something kept her mouth shut. He stood up and walked to the closet. She began to think he had lost interest, but then he turned. Her pussy flooded again when she saw what he had:

A black leather belt.

"Go over to the chair," he said. "Face the chair and get on your knees." She obeyed immediately. He knelt behind her, looping the belt around her neck. He tightened it slowly, letting her get used to the sensation. "Do you like that?"

"Yeah," Ava said, squirming.

"Be still." She stopped. "Now grab my cock." Ava did, wrapping her fingers around it slowly. He lifted her skirt and pulled her soaking panties to the side. "Put it in."

She backed up slightly, guiding her aching pussy to the rigid cock that she wanted more than anything else. She slowly impaled herself upon it, closing her eyes to savor the sensation of being completely filled. "So tight," he murmured approvingly. When she thought she couldn't take any more, he slammed his hips forward, forcing her to bend over the chair. He began pounding her from behind, one hand moving up to her hair, the other still grasping the belt. His balls slapped her clit, and she came almost immediately. She arched her back and rocked her hips back to meet him. He yanked back on her hair and tightened the belt simultaneously, forcing her up, her back against his chest.

"You are so fucking dirty," he hissed her ear. "You love being treated like a whore, don't you? Just meeting random guys on the subway and then getting fucked by them?"

He continued to fuck her, making her cum, over and over, never stopping or slowing down. His hand moved from her hair to her shaved cunt, his skilled fingers finding her clit and working it expertly. "So dirty," he repeated in a low voice. He came, filling her tight pussy with hot liquid. He unleashed her and stood, leaving her bent over the chair, her pussy dripping with a mixture of their cums.

"Not bad," he said, buckling his pants. He picked up her sweater and threw it over to her. "I knew you needed me."