Corrupting Atie

Dear Diary,

At least the second old man wasn't on the train today, but my tormentor was. When he sat behind me, I pulled my skirt up, took off my blazer, and undid the top two buttons. He said that it wasn't enough anymore. He undid the next two button on my blouse. I looked down in horror, realizing that it was below the little ribbon of fabric that connected my bra cups, and that from his angle he could see into the blouse and see my bra. I opened my mouth to object, but he grabbed the back of my head and pressed his lips to mine.

Diary, it was the grossest thing that ever happened to me. His tongue swirled against mine, he explored my mouth. Oh Diary, it was so disgusting. He held my head there and I just had to take it. When he finally broke the kiss, and small strand of saliva fell on my blouse. I burst into tears.

He then reached into my blouse and began to knead my little bra cup breast. He then began stroking my tiny panty clad slit. I kept trying to push both hands away, but he was so much stronger than I was. Any time I would open my mouth to say 'Mister please...' he would cut me off with another kiss that involved him licking the inside of my mouth.

By the end of the train ride, he looked me in my eyes and said "Katie, do you feel how hard your nipples are? Do you feel how damp your panties are?" I looked at him and nodded sadly. "And do you know why that is?"

I considered for a moment. "Because deep down I like this?"

He smiled from ear to ear. "That's right Katie. Here are the rules from now on. You will always wear a matching set of bras and panties. If they aren't the same color, I'm going to spank you for being naughty. When I sit with you, your blouse will be all the way open and you will take off your skirt."

I gasped. He couldn't possibly expect that! "But sir, I'm a good girl! People will see my underwear!"

"Maybe the new rule should be that I always take away your bras and panties and that you go to class every day without panties on and with your nipples sticking through your shirt."

I wiped tears from my eyes. "That won't be necessary."

He nodded. "Close your eyes and hold out your hands, Katie."

I did as he instructed. I feel powerless to tell this man 'No.' I heard him grunt, then something hot hitting my hands. After a few moments I opened my eyes. He was gone, but my hands and wrists were covered in his cum. It was white and slimy. I didn't know what to do! I had to get off the train, but my blouse was almost all the way open and my blazer was on the floor.

I had no way around it. I used my slime covered hands to pick up my blazer and try and put it on to cover my breasts. Once I got to school, I washed my hands and buttoned my blouse. The damage was done, though. My blazer was covered in his baby batter and I had to take it off and hide it in my bag. I wound up getting demerits for a uniform violation. I wanted to cry all day from the injustice of it. I got demerited because a gross, fat, old man sexually harasses me. But for some reason, when I think of how he uses me, something stirs inside me. I feel somehow satisfied by it. Comforted by it. Oh Diary, what's happening to me?

Dear Diary,

The old man came and sat next to me today. I couldn't believe myself, but I took off my blazer and skirt, and unbuttoned my blouse from top to bottom. He took out his phone and pointed it at me. I tried to hold my blouse closed and cover myself, but he took a picture of my panties. He grinned.

I asked him not to take pictures of my bra and panties. I told him it was embarrassing being in my underthings while right in the middle of the train. He just smiled and gave me another passionate kiss, filling my mouth with his gin pickled tongue, while he teased my flower by stroking it through the crotch of my bikini cut panties. Oh Diary, I was so humiliated!

Just when I thought it couldn't get any worse people began noticing like they never had before. While this disgusting man kissed me, touched my little breasts, and stroked my flower, people would say things like 'Look at that little slut.' I thought to myself that it wasn't what they thought. Then I realized it was exactly what they thought. I was exactly what they thought I was. I wept bitterly while the fat old man molested me. Then I heard a voice. 'Look, that old timer is rubbing her pussy through her underwear!' It was one of the guys from my college. He was one of the men among many who snapped pictures on his cell phone of me being groped. I'm sure they're all over the internet by now.

The old man has taken so many things from me. My first tongue kiss, the first man to see my bra and panties, the first man to touch my flower...Diary I'm scared! I don't know how much further he will take this! But when I got to the college, my crotch was so wet!

Dear Diary,

Today was a day full of more touching and more pictures. For a while, I thought that was as far as it would go. Then he reached into my little B cup bra. 'Sir!' I exclaimed. He began to tease my tiny nipples. He rolled them in his fingers, pinched them, pulled them. Diary, I couldn't fight the arousal! I started moaning! I felt so dirty, so cheap, so used. Then, with his other hand, he slipped into my panties and began stimulating my little clitty. All while people took pictures and videos of me moaning.

There was a heat inside me. It built and it built. Something was coming, Diary. Something was about to happen. Then we arrived at my college. He released me and buttoned up my blouse. I panted and begged him to finish what he started. He told me that he wasn't going to finish that, and that was forbidden to finish it as well. I whimpered softly. Why did this man control me the way he did? Why was he allowed to touch my special place, my private place, when I wasn't? Am I still my own person? Am I still my own woman?

Dear Diary,

Today the fat old man stimulated my little B cup breasts, my nipples, and my little clitty until I was about to explode. He brought me up to that feeling three times on the ride home. I started crying after the third and begged him to finish it, but he only said that he would not and again forbid me from finishing myself.

When I got home I...I touched myself. I wanted to finish it, but I also didn't want to disobey him. For some reason. He also told me that from now on I was forbidden from wearing bras on the train. I asked him how I would keep men from seeing my breasts on the train. He told me that men would see my breasts. They would see my cute little nipples. They would take pictures and videos of them. Then they would go home and touch their penises thinking about my adorable little...well...he called them 'titties.' It's so embarrassing using that word.

My head swims and I get in a fog thinking about all those strangers seeing me so intimately, so naked. I don't know what's wrong with me! What would my mom think? My dad? My pastor? But the next morning I put my bra in my bag and didn't wear it on the train. The old man was right about men looking at my little titties. They also said the most hurtful things about them. About me. I hated it, but they were right to say them. I'm beginning to see that I'm just a cheap piece of meat. The old man has begun sucking on my titties while he plays with my tits. Oh diary...it feels so wonderful, but so shameful. He buries his face in my titties. I never envisioned as I grew up that the first man who enjoy them would be a man in his sixties.

I've started bringing a few spare pairs of panties in my bag beside my bra. My panties get so wet I have to change them before school starts. Boys have started slapping my bottom in the hallway. I don't say anything. I know it's my fault for being so dirty on the train. Also, one day a pair of my wet panties wound up on the school bulletin board along with a bunch of embarrassing pictures of me. I took the panties and pictures down, but I think it's safe to say that every one as school knows how dirty I am. How terrible of a person I am. Oh Diary, I used to be such a good girl.