Submission On The Bus

SUBMISSION ON THE BUS

The bus ride home was an odd choice of highlight for Heather's day but when you work at one end of the line and live at the other, you are both guaranteed a seat for the whole journey and have plenty of time to read a book, browse the web or just sit back and relax for an hour.

On this day, she decided to spend the ride home doing the latter; one of the perks of having to bus across London at 6pm on a November evening is that the river view is spectacular in the dark, arguably one of the best man-made sights a person can behold. So that's what Heather did, she just watched the greatest city in the world zoom by whilst the bus filled up around her.

Twenty minutes later, to say the bus was standing room only was like saying that Greece is in a bit of debt. The vehicle was jam-packed from front to back and Heather was blissfully unaware, content to consider the potential nature of Bernie's Cafe (pronounced Kaff), Ali Baba Kebabs and Many of the other establishments that had inherited the spot in Heather's eye-line that before was inhabited by Big Ben, Tower Bridge and the London Eye. But to Heather this honest and down to Earth part of the city was equally as beautiful as the glamourous sights of the city centre.

A thunderous sneeze from a suited man behind her momentarily burst the daydream bubble she had created for herself as she instinctively turned to glance at the sneeze's creator. It was then that she first noticed the girl that was sat beside her and it was the best she could do not to gasp in astonishment, for this girl was incredible. She couldn't have been much older than twenty-one years old but it was already clear that God's work was done with this one and he could put more time into improving some of his less successful creations.

The girl was East Asian, probably Japanese or Korean was Heather's guess. She was wearing one of those one-piece, figure-hugging dresses that men are never sure if it is supposed to be a long t-shirt or a really short dress and boy what a figure it had been given to hug. Her breasts were in reality probably no bigger than Heather's own but when transferred to what was surely no bigger than a 5ft 2" frame, it was as if the girl had got on the bus after shoplifting a couple of watermelons. Added to this she had legs that seemed to go on forever despite such a diminutive owner; an effect most likely accentuated by the scandalously short dress and insanely high heels that added a good few perceived inches of viewing pleasure to each end.

By this point Heather was aware that she was staring which for a straight woman such as herself, was quite an unexpected thing to find herself doing. What further surprised her was that upon scanning the bus there seemed to be not one guying even throwing an inquisitive glance in the girl's direction which was just madness. If she couldn't help but gawk at this girl on first glance then surely every guy on the bus should have been trying the old James Bond-esque -- 'Of course I'm not looking at that girl's tits, I was just reading the poster behind her about how much bus drivers earn' -- routine. Yet without exception each and every guy there seemed to be genuinely reading, chatting on the phone or just staring into space.

The lack of any reaction on the girl's face who herself was reading a book in whatever language it was that she assumed was used in her country of origin reassured Heather that her little admiration session may have gone unnoticed and so she tried to return her thoughts back to the sights and sounds of South London.

A few minutes later, as the bus passed that cute little Lebanese place that she promised herself that she was going to try one day but after three years of riding past it every day still hadn't, Heather felt something on her knee. She glanced down but there was nothing to see other than the stonewash jeans she had changed into before walking to the bus stop.

Heather returned her gaze to the window and the second she did so she once again felt something on her knee, but it wasn't just something this time, it was a hand, and somebody was stroking her knee. Heather looked down once more yet again there was no perpetrator to be seen. Every passenger within a viable proximity was too deeply engrossed in their own affairs to be the guilty party. The only logical deduction was that her mind had to be playing tricks on her for some reason.

So once again Heather's thoughts drifted out the window and once again she felt somebody's touch on her knee. She tried to ignore the sensation but as the seconds passed, the stroking sensation evolved into a caress. Heather strived to convince herself that whatever this was was in her head but the sensation was beginning to move towards her crotch. As stealthily as she could, Heather tried one more time to catch her assailant in the act but the closest limbs she could see were the ones firmly grasping the book being read by the Asian girl. The hand that was running its way up her thigh was purely a figment of her imagination.

The problem for Heather though was that this figment had now arrived at her crotch and the pressure it was applying was feeling any less real even with her staring straight at the offending region of empty space. An imaginary index finger began to rub in the general area of Heather's pussy and she tried to squirm in a way that both could avoid it and not disturb the girl beside her.

The non-hand had other ideas though. Heather was continuing to wrestle with the nothingness when she felt the zip of her jeans being undone. After a brief gasp of shock, she tried to stand but couldn't as two more invisible hands pinned her to her seat. She tried to scream but the second she opened her mouth it filled with something long, thick and rubbery even though there was nothing to be seen.

Her eyes moved around the bus as if to silently cry out for somebody to help her, but the now emptying bus's passengers seemed completely oblivious to her plight. Over the next couple of minutes a further set of hands had grabbed Heather's wrists and cuffed them behind her before finding their way inside her t-shirt in search of her breasts. The original imaginary hand was now free to get back to work on Heather's jeans and duly began to unzip them.

Only they weren't being unzipped. Heather could feel them being unzipped and discarded on the floor beneath her with the panties quickly following, yet when she looked down she was still fully clothed.

Heather didn't know if she was dreaming or going mad but there was no possibility that this could be happening; her body and mind were telling her that an unseen hand had begun to rub her pussy whilst two others were unclasping her bra and setting to work on her breasts. Her eyes on the other hand told her that none of this was occurring at all and she was just sitting quietly on the bus fully clothed. The reaction of the nine or so remaining bus travelers seemed to corroborate this view.

However, the anxiety of not knowing whether she was being stripped and gagged by an invisible gang or having a fully clothed nervous breakdown quickly got replaced by the next development: these invisible hands, real or imaginary, really knew their stuff. Her pussy began to twitch as two invisible fingers plunged deep inside her whilst another handled the clitoris. The hands inside her t-shirt complimented this with a variety of gropes, tweaks and pinches that caused her body to visibly shudder and shake to the extent that the Asian girl beside must have noticed no matter how deeply buried inside her book she appeared to be.

Heather tried to fight the onslaught of pleasure at first, but the vague belief that none of this was actually happening made it easier to accept everything as one sexy daydream from which she would awaken when the bus reached her stop. By now her pussy was dripping invisibly and her nipples were hard as diamonds but the hands still had more tricks up their sleeves. Seeming to take Heather's acceptance to be pleasure as a sign to carry on regardless, Heather felt a new group of sensations fall upon her and this time it wasn't hands, it was heads.

At least Heather assumed they were heads to begin with, but she soon realized that she was mistaken. The new bodies that had now found their way to her pussy and each breast were in fact mouths; they had tongues (if it were possible for a tongue to be that long and flexible) but there was nothing else. These three mouths set to work where the hands had laid their ground work and Heather could feel the first plunge itself deep inside her, thrusting as far as an above average cock but with the lingual dexterity of a cobra. Mouths two and three were alternating between soft sensual kisses all over her breasts with purposeful sucking and the occasional light nibble of the nipple.

Heather's body had never felt so hot. She was now audibly moaning into her unseen gag not caring if anybody saw or heard. She felt a tongue begin to lick and suck at her clit and was momentarily confused because she still felt the three mouths working at their original tasks. The cloud of ecstasy in her brain was elongating the time period it took her to comprehend that a fourth tongue had now joined the party. When the fifth and sixth tongues began to work on her neck however, she was much quicker to understand the situation.

It probably took ten minutes for it to happen, but Heather gave up trying to count once the tongues hit seventeen in number and decided to focus on enjoying the best sex dream in history. Impossible invisible tongues were now kissing, licking and nibbling all over her body, tantalizing every erogenous zone she had (including three new ones they had just discovered for her). The gag had also been removed and replaced with a further tongue, which she happily and hungrily kissed like a naval solider on the verge of setting sail for a nine month voyage.

Despite everything that was happening though, Heather still had not cum and her body was beginning to show the telltale signs of desperation. Her pussy twitched, her nipples tingled, but every last tongue was expertly keeping her just on the wrong side of Heaven. In a moment though this all changed and in unison every last mouth went into overdrive causing Heather's body to buck and thrash as orgasms rained on her like a monsoon. A thrust of the tongue inside her pussy: she came, a light bite of her left nipple: she came, a nibble of her right ear lobe: she came. For what seemed like a never-endingly glorious eternity Heather's body was the living metaphor for the bus she had been riding all this time (if paired if the three other identical busses that had followed it in a veritable convoy across London) and she loved every nirvanic second.

Eventually each of the tongue dispersed leaving Heather alone and panting on her seat, her vision was blurred and darkened from the experience. It was then that Heather realized that it wasn't her vision that was darkened but the bus; it had already in the depot and found herself alone on an empty bus with the lights off. The only visibility came from the outside lighting of the depot itself. Heather tried to comprehend the situation, how could she have been locked inside a bus? Surely the driver must have noticed her, especially the state she had been in. It didn't make any sense.

This line of thought was then quickly punted to the back of Heather's mind as a second revelation dawned on her: she wasn't alone. A look to her left and she realized that the Asian girl was still sitting there and still quietly reading her book like nothing was amiss (even in condition where book-reading must have been immensely uncomfortable on the eyes. Heather opened her mouth to speak but no words came out, she was once again frozen to the chair, only this time she felt no force holding her down.

It was then she saw the girl's expression change for the first time as the merest hint of a smile began to form in the corner of the girl's mouth that struck Heather at once as being both maddeningly cute but also sexily sinister. Heather felt her eyes be drawn downwards to see the young Asian begin to slowly hike up the tiny proportion of her dress that was supposed to be below the waste.

When the final fiber of fabric had made its away above waist, Heather would have noticed that the Asian girl had not been wearing any underwear if she had not just been blinded by a brilliant flash of red. Heather blinked like a person who had just had their photo taken in the dark at point blank range. She didn't understand what had just happened but any attempt to understand the source of the blinding red light was just met with yet another flash that seemed to empty her mind more and more of any thoughts other than finding its source.

Transfixed within this endless loop of look down, flash, blink, look down again, Heather was unaware of the now broad smile on the face of the Asian girl who was patiently waiting for the right moment to help Heather on her quest to find the source of the red flash. Heather couldn't help but fall into the same trap over and other again until finally she thought she had gone completely blind. She was too dazed and confused to realize that the Asian girl had placed a blindfold over her eyes.

Frozen like a deer in headlights, Heather sat motionless until she felt the force of two imaginary hands return. This time though they did not grope or caress her, they gripped her head firmly and began to guide it downwards. The two hands compelled her to slip off the chair and kneel on the ground. Once in place the hands then carefully guided her head forward until it met with something soft and damp. Without the need for any further coercion, Heather softly began to lick and savour sweet taste of imaginary pussy. The Asian girl smiled down at Heather, guiding her head with her hands and biding her time.

Heather had never gone down on a girl before but she thought to herself if a real pussy tasted anything near as delightful as this imaginary one then it may actually be something she'd be open to trying in the future. The more she experienced the tastes and aromas that were filling her senses the more she felt herself getting turned on once more. She strove to lick and suck as best as a novice knew how and she soon discovered her efforts were appreciated as the faux-pussy bucked and thrashed in approval.

This was the moment that the Asian girl chose to remove Heather's blindfold and one final flash from the ruby piercing on her clitoris caused Heather to be hit with a final wave of mind shattering euphoria. In an instant Heather knew what her life was meant for, and it was to serve this goddess before her in any manner she wished.

The Asian girl smiled down at her and Heather was hit with an overwhelming need to be naked. Somewhere in her subconscious she felt that it was what her new goddess desired and therefore she cast aside her clothes with glee, a broad gleeful smile beaming from ear to ear at the pleasure of knowing she had pleased her goddess.

Heather smiled even more when the black leather collar clasped into place around her neck and almost burst into a joyous giggle as the leash was also attached. She was how happy and proud to be the property of such a perfect being as her goddess and she walked with dignity and pride as the Asian girl walked her off of the bus (the door of which had been left open the whole time) and into her new life.

Finis