Corrupting Katie Ch 02

All characters are over 18.

Dear Diary,

I don't know what I'm going to do! I thought this morning might be different, because I had to go to church today. That meant no skimpy school uniform, but also, I would get a ride from my parents. I begged my dad to give us a ride in his car, but he insisted on taking the train like I do every day. I thought the old man wouldn't dare do something with my mom and dad only a few feet away. If anything, it was worse.

My parents sat next to one another on one side of the train, I sat in the aisle seat right next to them. The fat man came and stood right next to me in the aisle. He had an erection! For the next few minutes, he stood with his back turned to my mom and dad, and every time the train would lurch or go from side to side, he would shift so his...his thing would hit against my face. I couldn't believe it! All this time I was trying to make small talk with my father, this man was touching me with his penis!

I tried so hard to ignore it, but then it just got worse. His zipper was open, and halfway through the ride, his penis fell out of his pants! I immediately stopped talking to my dad. I was afraid that if I opened my mouth, he might try to put his penis inside. It was the first one I had ever seen. It was so large and angry looking! But the worst part was the smell. I don't think that man has ever had a shower in his life. It smelled so bad. For fifteen minutes of a thirty-minute train ride, a fat old man was slapping his disgusting smelly dick against my face. He also made it a point to stare down the neck line of my church dress. I wanted to die of shame! Finally, when we got to church, the old man shuffled over and let me pass. As we walked into church, my father sniffed the air and frowned. He told me that when I got home, I needed to take a shower because I smelled. How could I tell my beloved father that it was because I smelled like an old man's filthy cock?

Dear Diary,

I took the train to school again today. I decided that today was the day I that I would lay down some ground rules. I also made sure to wear some exercise shorts under my uniform skirt. When the fat, smelly, old man sat beside me I obediently hiked my skirt up to just under my underwear and unbuttoned my blazer before opening it. He patted my thigh and told me I was a good girl.

I told him that we needed to have a talk. I told him that I wanted him to stop certain things he was doing. I told him I didn't want him to touch me with his penis ever again.

He responded by taking my hand and placing it on his enormous penis. He then said "Do you mean that you don't want to touch my massive, angry cock anymore?" I nodded. "Why don't you say that? Say, mister...I don't want you to slap me in the face with your enormous cock. Please don't hit me in the face with your giant fuck stick." He still held my hand against it.

"Mister..." I replied, but my voice was weak. "Please don't hit me in the face with your big cock. I had to go to church smelling like dick, and people at church noticed it. I also don't want God to be mad at me for doing inappropriate things."

He seemed to smile. "What kinds of inappropriate things, Katie?"

I told him I didn't want God to be mad at me for touching penises before my wedding night.

He nodded and let go of my hand, which I immediately put in my lap. "Well then, that means you should go to Catholic school the same way you would go to church. And good girls don't wear shorts and pants to church, do they?"

I shook my head 'no.' He then reached into my skirt and pulled my shorts to my ankles. I groaned, but deep down I knew he was right.

He then told me that if I was a good girl, I would take off my blazer. I asked him why, and he replied that good girls don't hide their adorable little titties. He said it was a fair trade for him not slapping me in the face with his thing.

I get so grossed out at the thought of him checking me out. He's old enough to be my grandfather! But I get even more grossed out at the thought of him slapping my defenseless face with his penis. I took off my blazer and put it in my lap. He immediately stuffed it under my seat. Then he proceeded to stroke my thighs with his hand and kiss me on my neck. A few times he nibbled my ear lobe, and once or twice he gave my breast a squeeze.

His touching is becoming more intimate. It's so disgusting and gross. But...a few times I...well...I moaned. I tried to explain to him that I had never let a boy touch my chest before, but he just laughed and said that he didn't mind and that the practice would be good for me.

When it was finally time for him to get off the train, he took my face in hand and kissed me on the lips! I tried to get away, but it was impossible. I feel so dirty, Diary. Kissing should be reserved for people who love each other with all their hearts, not a young girl in school and some fat old man who touches her legs on a train. A larger and larger part of me thinks I should tell my mom and dad what's going on. But then that would mean telling them I let an old man touch my legs for the last week. That would also mean telling Father Tom in confessional that I've been rude in the eyes of the Lord for the last week and not doing anything about it!

This is getting more and more improper and I can't think of any way out.

Dear Diary,

I tried to get a ride to school from my mom and dad, but they told me to take the train. I sat down in my usual place. When the old man sat down, I hiked up my skirt so it was just under my underwear and took off my blazer. Immediately when he sat down, he took me by the face and pressed his lips to mike, giving me another putrid kiss. It made me retch. I blushed and told him I wasn't really comfortable kissing him as he began stroking my thighs. I hate how he automatically touches my thighs like they belong to him. He asked me why he shouldn't kiss me anymore.

I opened my mouth to tell him that that kisses should be for men and women who love each other, but he merely smiled and said that it must be because it makes me flustered. I admitted that it did make me a little flustered and he began unbuttoning the top button on my school blouse!

I put my hands on hip, and begged him to stop, but he merely said that if I let my chest breathe a little, I wouldn't have to worry about getting all hot and flustered. He stopped after two buttons. It didn't reveal my bra when he opened my blouse around the two buttons. I thought to myself that if I let him kiss me, maybe he won't open anymore buttons on my blouse.

He did, however, tug my blouse in such a way that he could see my bra strap. He asked me if my entire bra was powder blue. I told him it was. He stroked my cheek with his hand and told me that powder blue was a cute color for my adorable little titties. I thanked him, and he kissed me again. I wanted to melt into the floor.

He spent the remainder of the ride giving my breasts a squeeze, kissing me on the neck and lips, and exploring my thighs with his hands. Then he did something I thought he would never do! He grabbed my vagina through my panties! I gasped so loud I thought other people would look and see!

I pushed his hand back onto my upper thigh and reminded him that anything covered by my underwear was off limits. He told me it was an honest mistake and that he would never touch the crotch of my little panties without my permission. Then he kissed me again as though this were some apologetic concessions and continued to molest my breasts and thighs. I squirmed several times as his thumb brushed over my crotch a few other times, but other than that he behaved. That is, if you can call what he's been doing behaving.

Oh Diary, what if this gets even worse!?

Dear Diary,

I have some good news! I managed to get a part time job working at a restaurant. Maybe once I save up a little money, I can buy a cheap car and I won't have to ride the stupid train. Then I won't have to worry about a smelly old man touching my breasts, feeling my panties, and kissing me on the lips all the time. The bad news is, kissing me has become a much more frequent thing when the smelly old man sits next to me on the train. After school, when he sat down beside me, I did my chores of pulling my skirt until it was just under my underwear and taking off my blazer. I looked at him imploringly, hoping that it would be enough. He cleared his throat and glared at me. I whimpered, and undid the top two buttons on my blouse. I hate that I have to do this every day.

He told me I was a good girl and kissed me. The smell of cigarettes filled my nose. He asked me what color bra I was wearing.

I told him it was green as he started to grope my legs. He pulled my blouse open to check. Here was a man whose name I didn't even know looking at my bra strap! I started to complain about bout inappropriate it was, but he just kissed me. He told me to be careful what I wished for. It was true. When I complained about his hand under my skirt, he would make my skirt shorter. When I complained about kisses on my neck, he kissed my lips. He saw me wrestling with it in my mind and kissed me again, telling me I was a good girl. He also took the opportunity to...uh...touch my vagina. More than before.

He would be molesting my upper thigh, like he always did, and then reach up my skirt and grab my crotch! I gasped every time he did it, but when I opened my mouth to object, he would kiss me with his dirty old man lips. What's worse is...when I got home from school, I couldn't stop thinking about that smelly old man touching my flower. I felt so dirty.

Part of me has started to wonder...is this a woman's place?

Dear Diary,

Just when I thought that things couldn't get any worse, the smelly old man out does himself. I went to the back of the train, like a good girl, and found him in his usual seat. I grimaced at the thought that I would have to shuffle past him and that he would grope my butt. But then I saw, to my relief, that there was another old man sitting next to him in my seat. I was relieved, thinking I would get a day off from his molestation of me.

My tormenter smiled and said that I was Katie, the girl he told him so much about. I told him that I would prefer if these things remained private. The fat old man reached around behind me and patted my bottom.

He said "I'm sure you would."

I pushed his hand away and replied that the two of them looked busy and that I would sit elsewhere.

The fat old man sad that was nonsense and that I would sit on his lap like a good girl. I knew it would be useless to argue, so I sat down on his lap. I felt his erection pressing in on my butt. I hated the situation I was in. He asked if I was forgetting something. I knew instantly what he meant. Feeling sick to my stomach, I shortened my skirt, took off my blazer, and unbuttoned the top two buttons on my blouse. He tilted my face and kissed me. I can't explain it, but some part of me was buzzing from the humiliation of it all. Diary, was I enjoying this?

The man in my seat spoke, stating that I had beautiful legs. The old fat man replied that he could go ahead and touch them; I didn't mind.

This was more than I could take. I spoke up for myself, stating that I did mind and that I was a young lady. I told both of them that this whole thing was very improper.

Both men laughed jovially. It may have been my imagination, but I thought I felt his penis twitch as he said that it was so funny when women thought they had rights or owned their bodies. He stated that when I went on one of my rants, he usually just kissed me and that would shut me right up. I wanted to cry.

So, there I was, in a train car on my way to school with two men old enough to be my grandfathers, their hands exploring every inch of my young inner thighs. Every once in a while, one of the two would explore higher than he was supposed to and cupped my little crutch. I just gasped loudly and pushed the hand away.

Something was happening, though. I kept feeling myself become more and more...damp. In our sex ed class they told us that women get wet in their vaginas when they're aroused. As I stood up at my stop and rebuttoned my blouse I brushed away a tear...unaware of what was arousing me. Was it the stimulation of old men touching my flower? Was it the humiliation of being controlled by those ugly, smelly men? Or was it because, deep down, I knew that my place as a woman was to serve and obey them?

That night, as I was putting on my pajamas, I remembered what my Sunday school teachers used to tell me when I was little. That it was sinful to touch my little flower. But tonight...I don't know why...I stroked myself. I felt a heat growing inside me. I stopped and pulled my pajama pants on. I looked in the mirror and felt ashamed.

Oh Diary, I just want them to leave me alone!