It was cold and rainy. Her hair was damp, her clothes were wet, and the heel of her shoe broke when she stepped off the platform and onto the train.
"Fuck," she uttered.
Apparently this was received as an invitation by the man sitting on the far side of the car, although she didn't realize it.
He was probably five foot eleven, maybe six feet if he stretched. Blue eyes. Athletic build. Ski cap covering his head, some blonde hair peeking out around his cheeks. Too obvious to be her type. She turned away without making eye contact.
She'd been staying late at the office for the past two weeks, working on a big project. She needed this to impress her boss, a real jackass, to get the promotion she desperately wanted.
The sun had long since drifted below the trees and the only light came from the fluorescent bulbs in the tunnels connecting the city underground. The doorway to the train closed and she was alone with him. No one rode the tube this late at night.
He seemed harmless enough, but she soon to found out he was anything but.
"Fuck," she repeated as she slipped the strap over her ankle, removing first the broken left shoe and then the unbroken right, tucking them into her bag, now standing on the cold metal floor in her stockinged feet. She drew in her breath and her lungs were assaulted by the smell of sneakers, sweat and urine. She hated the tube.
As the train lurched out of the station, she grabbed onto the metal pole in front of her to keep from losing her balance. As they rolled away from the platform, the man stood and grabbed the pole beside her.
"Horrible day," she said under her breath. Leave me the fuck alone, she thought in her head.
He said nothing but looked her over from head to toe. Twice, his eyes lingering on her body like hands on a velvet dress. A shiver run through her body.
She turned toward the window and watched as the graffiti covered walls of the underground whirred past in an unrecognizable blur.
Before she realized what was happening, he was behind her, inches from her, his breath hot and insistent on her neck. As she prepared to turn and ask what the fuck he was doing, she felt a sudden shock as his ice cold hand crept beneath her skirt, invading her, touching her---fondling her. With his other hand, strong and firm, he grabbed her wrists, which were already gripping the steel pole before her and quickly wound a rope around them. sliding them above her head, securing them.
Oh my god.
"Spread your legs," he ordered.
She opened her mouth to scream but his hand covered it before she could make a sound.
"Don't open your fucking mouth. Don't think about screaming. There's nobody here." He grabbed her ass with his hand and squeezed tight. "Now. spread your fucking legs apart."
She complied, moving her legs a few inches in either direction.
He shook his head. "Farther."
She spread them farther, her kness trembling, her arms aching already. "Please. Don't hurt me," she whispered.
He ignored her and slapped her thigh. "Good girl."
She stood motionless as his finger continued to explore the lines of her underwear and all of the secrets contained beneath. Against her will, his expert hand caused something in her to stir. It had been months since she'd been with a man and his hands felt good even though she hadn't invited them to touch her. She felt wet bleed through the soft silk, betraying her, and fought off embarassment---a girl wasn't supposed to get hot when she was being forced.
Unfortunately, there was no way to hide her indiscretion.
"You like it, don't you, you dirty little whore?" He whispered in her ear. He sounded disgusted and pleased at the same time.
She said nothing, only closed her eyes and waited for whatever came next. He pulled on her underwear, stroking her ass cheeks and playing around her clit in the wetness that spread fast. He yanked at her underwear until they lay in a puddle by her shoeless feet. A quiver ran through her body and she closed her eyes as a tiny moan escaped her mouth.
God. How embarassing.
He slid his hand back underneath her skirt and simultaneously bit her ear, pulling on the lobe until he drew blood, which he wiped with his finger and painted on her lips. He forcibly turned her until she stood facing the pole, straddling it. It vibrated between her legs like a huge sex toy, just for her, underground, in the dark of night. She bit her lip to keep from screaming. As the train slowed and the doors opened into a deep, empty station, the pole shamelessly stopped shaking. She let out her breath, which she hadn't realized she'd been holding.
"Awww. Little slut liked the shaking train pole against her dirty cunt?"
She said nothing.
As the train gradually built speed again, pulling away from the platform, he held her against the waiting pole and kept her there, pushing her pussy tight against the shaking metal, not relenting, his fingers under her skirt, working her clit.
He knelt down then and with an evil smile disappeared under the folds of her skirt. The cap on his head was rough and the stubble on his face felt like a thousand tiny pins in her throbbing thighs. It turned her on even though she didn't want it to and her pussy began to drip shamelessly. His tongue went to work then, deliberately licking her inner thighs, inches from her pleasure hole, until she felt lightheaded and dizzy from her impending orgasm. She strained against her tied wrists, but it only pulled them tighter. He plunged his tongue deep into her waiting sex, juices like nectar, which he sucked with great abandon. He peeked out from underneath and ordered, "No cumming."
"Oh, god," she moaned and closed her eyes, standing on tiptoes. It was a pointless gesture; she couldn't escape his tongue no matter how much she stretched her legs.
