You saw me in the club under the smoky, multihued lights. I wore a short skirt, low-cut top, and thigh-high boots with thin stiletto heels. Standard club gear.
You did not think I was a standard club girl. You decided, watching me dance, watching me flirt...watching me tease...that you would have me.
I didn't see you behind me when I left the club, heading up the grime-encrusted sidewalk. I didn't hear you, either...you moved like a hunter, silent, patient, aware. Up the street to the parking garage...you followed me in, and I never knew you were there.
I got to my car. There was nobody else parked on that level, and I stopped behind the vehicle, fumbling with my keys. I didn't hear anything, nor did I see any moving shadow, but suddenly you were there behind me, one arm tight around my waist, the other clamped over my mouth to cover the squeal of alarm your sudden presence caused. Your lips were close to my ear, your breath sounded far too loud to me...when you spoke, it was like the voice of God. To me, at least.
"Shh. Don't move...I promise you will enjoy this, my little slut."
I froze. I didn't know if you were armed, I was so afraid to turn and look, or even protest. I think something deep inside me wanted this, wanted to be fucked by a total stranger in a filthy parking garage. I think you had me already, though neither of us knew it. Still, whatever it was that wanted this made me relax, lean back against you, stop fighting.
"Mm. Good girl." You pressed me down, then, bent me over the trunk of my car, held me there with one hand between my shoulder blades. Your other hand was busy, roughly kneading my ass through the thin cotton of my skirt. I squirmed, whimpering softly, and this made you laugh. You yanked the skirt up to my waist, and laughed harder.
"Oh...you little whore...no underwear, hmm?"
I whimpered again, blushing hotly. I had forgotten about that. I never wore panties anymore, but nobody ever knew about it unless I wanted them to. Normally. I wanted to slap you for calling me that, or at least argue, but the word had another effect entirely on my body. I pushed back against you, grinding my bare ass into the rough denim of your jeans. I could feel your stiff cock; I shivered...My mind screamed at me to stop acting the slut, but my traitorous body ignored it, pressing eagerly, even hungrily against you.
Another laugh, this one dark and mocking, then a heavy slap to my right asscheek. The sound echoed and rebounded off the walls of the parking garage. I moaned softly, paused in my writhing, and you spanked me again for emphasis. "Oh, no, my little toy. Not yet."
I whimpered pleadingly, but you ignored the sound; both of your hands moved roughly and painfully to squeeze my ass. After what felt like forever, the fingers of one hand dipped almost gently to touch my sopping-wet twat. A low chuckle. "My god...you really /are/ a little whore. Do you have any idea how sloppy your cunt is right now...?"
I flushed again, face pressed into the cold metal of my car. I wanted to cry tears of shame. I was embarassed, but at the same time, my pussy was still begging for attention. You laughed again, then obliged it, ramming two fingers deep into me, using them to fuck me roughly and painfully. I moaned again, wiggling my ass in a tacit plea for more.