Ticet

I was on the train, going home. It was the off-peak period and there weren't many people in the carriage. Apart from me there were probably half a dozen other people, all men and, as far as I was concerned, all losers. They'd all tried it on with me at various times and I'd just slapped them down. Who wants to get involved with a loser?

Train travel irritates me. I just don't like travelling on them. Such common people ride them. Fortunately this one was an express, one more stop and then straight through to nearly the end of the line. Mind you, why they run expresses during off-peak periods is beyond me. It's not as though they're trying to move lots of people real fast.

The train stopped at the next station and one person got on. The train started off again and I cheered mentally. A straight run through to my station. The man who had just got on turned around and I could see he was wearing a badge. Oh, great. A ticket inspector. There's another loser for you. The only work you can get is making sure other losers have bought their ticket. I wondered if he'd catch one of the other men. They seemed the sort to evade train fares.

He passed amongst the men, all of whom produced their tickets before he even asked. Pity. It would have alleviated the tedium seeing one of them get booked. Finished with them he turned and headed towards me. I just sat back, waiting.

"Ticket, please, Miss," he said politely, tapping his inspector badge.

I'm not dense. I could see it. I gave a put-upon sigh and fished my purse out of my bag, intending to get my ticket. I was in no hurry. It wasn't as though the man had anything else to do. That's when a little problem cropped up.

Somehow or other my purse had come undone. When I grabbed it everything just cascaded out of my purse and into my bag and my bag was full of junk. What should have been a simple extraction had suddenly turned into a major scrabble through my bag, looking for the ticket.

I couldn't find it, could I? I was fishing around searching and I could tell he was getting impatient.

"I'm sorry," I apologised, "but I just can't seem to find it. I do have one though."

"Yes, Miss, but unless I see it I'll have to give you an infringement notice. It's regulation."

"But I have a ticket," I pointed out. "It's just that the things in my purse got mixed up with the things in my bag. I'm looking."

"Yes, Miss," he said, in a tone that hinted that he'd heard it all before.

The man then had the gall to bring out his book of infringement notices and started to write one up.

"Name, Miss," he asked, and I jacked up.

"There's no need to fill out one of your stupid forms," I snapped. "I have a ticket. Just be patient while I find it."

"Yeah, go easy mate. Give her a chance." The call came from one of the losers watching us.

"Hey, instead of fining her, why don't you fuck her?" another called out. "That'll teach her to travel without a ticket."

I gave the onlookers a filthy look. As though I'd permit any such thing.

"I'll find the ticket," I snapped. "I obviously had it when I boarded. You can't even get through the gates of most stations without a ticket."

"Yes, Miss. Name, please."

"Oh, don't be such a little dictator," I snapped. "Give some people a little authority and they become little Hitlers. I said I'll find it."

"Wrong colour, Miss," came the cool reply. "I actually become a little Idi Amin. You do know there are additional penalties if you don't supply your name and address?"

"Well, fuck you, Idi Amin," I snapped really incensed now. I mean, I had a blasted ticket. "I'm not accepting a fine when I have a valid ticket."

"Yes, Miss. If you find your ticket before you get out you can show it to the station master along with the infringement notice and he may cancel it. And there's no need to be rude."

My irritated, "What do you mean, he may cancel it?" came at the same time as the peanut gallery spoke up again.

"Hey, Idi," a voice called. "She just offered to fuck you."

"That's right," another one said. "We all heard her. Come on, give her one."

"The infringement notice will be for not showing an Inspector a valid ticket when asked. Producing a ticket later doesn't mean you had it on the train. You might have purchased it later."

"In that case, you fucking moron," I seethed, "you can just stand there until I find it. There's plenty of time before the train reaches the next station and it's not as though you have any real work to do."

There were a few cat calls and unwanted comments from the unwashed further down the carriage, but I ignored them. Unfortunately, one of the comments seemed to strike a chord with the Inspector.

"Hey, mate. If you're reluctant to fuck her, spank her instead. She's being obnoxious, arrogant, rude and racist. A nice little spanking would help her to mind her manners. Then she'll be a lot more cooperative about giving you her details for the fine."

"Fuck off," I snapped at the losers. "In case you forget, carriages have cameras. This loser isn't going to risk his job by man-handling a customer."

"In case you didn't notice, princess," came the quick reply. "This is an older carriage. No cameras. And you're not a customer. You're a deadbeat without a ticket."

I cast a surreptitious glance upwards and found he was right. No cameras. I just shrugged. It didn't really matter. I glared at the Inspector.

"You can just fucking stand there while I search," I snapped. "Lay a single finger on me and I'll have you arrested."

"Really, Miss?" asked the Inspector, and he was sounding quite narked. "I suspect that the witnesses will say I never laid a single finger on you. Now can I have your name, please?"

"Certainly," I said, smiling sweetly. "Just as soon as I've finished searching my bag. Meanwhile, sit."

"I am not a dog to be ordered to sit," the Inspector stated coldly, so I was quite surprised when he did sit down, but annoyed that he chose to sit right next to me.

"There's no need to sit right next to me," I snapped. "It's not as though I'm going anywhere."

"Apart from across my knee, you rude little bitch," he snapped and just like that he grabbed my arm and jerked me over his knee.

I squealed and the losers all started laughing, the laughter getting louder when he flipped my skirt up, exposing my bottom. You can be damned sure I squealed even louder when his hand came down hard on my bottom.

He spanked and I squealed and the losers laughed and then one of them added some gratuitous advice.

"Oi, mate," he called out. "She won't think it a real spanking unless you pull her panties down. She needs to know her bum had been bared."

"No," I protested. "The cheeks of my bottom are already exposed. You don't need to pull them down. And don't you dare strike me again. You can't do this to me."

"The man has a point," the Inspector told me. "You won't really consider it a proper spanking if I leave these on."

The rotten swine was pulling my panties down even as he spoke, just yanking them away from my bottom and pushing them down around my knees. How could he do that, exposing me like that? I squealed with fury when my panties when southward. I followed it up with a squeal of pain as my bottom got another spank.

It didn't get any better. He simply rained spanks down on my poor bottom while I squealed and wriggled, kicking my legs and trying to cover my bottom with my hands and having no effect whatsoever. He just calmly went right on spanking, battering my bottom something fierce.

I was almost ready to thank him when he finally stopped. Without so much as a word he swung me to my feet, standing up at the same time. Then to my shock he pushed me forward so I was bent over the seat and I just knew he was going to resume the spanking.

"No, no. That's enough. Leave me alone," I was saying and then, I couldn't believe it, I really couldn't, his hands were dragging my pussy lips apart and I felt his cock pressing against me.

I screamed of course. I kept on screaming and protesting and all the time I was doing it this great fat sausage was sliding into me. I guess the spanking must have aroused my pussy to some extent as I seemed wet and ready. Physically, that is. Mentally I just could not believe anyone would do this to me.

All my wailing and screaming didn't help. His cock just settled inside me with no problems at all. I finally shut up when I felt his groin pressing against me and I knew he was all the way inside me, and there was a lot of him in there, I can assure you.

I flicked a glance down at the losers and they were all watching, lascivious expressions on their faces. While they wouldn't have the nerve to do this themselves they were enjoying watching the Inspector take me.

The Inspector paused once he was fully inside. He seemed to wriggle about slightly, rubbing his groin against me, apparently satisfying himself that everything was in working order and that I was handling him OK.

"The spanking was for the rudeness," he told me softly. "You can consider this as being in lieu of an infringement notice."

I made a bitter comment about what he could do with his infringement notices, pointing out I had a ticket and he just hadn't given me enough time to find it. He answered by pulling back and thrusting hard into me.

I gave another squeal of protest, but also found myself pushing back to meet him. It's just easier that way. And that's the way it went. He'd drive into me while I squealed a protest and pushed back to meet him. I had to protest. It was the principle of the thing. He had no right to be fucking me.

Not that right or wrong was making any difference. He was really giving me a going over, thumping away as though he hadn't had a screw for years. He'd bang in and I'd squeal again and I'd also quietly curse the excitement that was gathering inside me.

For all I didn't want it, it felt good. He knew just what to do and he was doing it well, his cock steadily pushing me down the road of lust, raising my excitement with every thrust.

Towards the end it would probably have taken a discerning ear to tell if my squeals were from my protest or my pleasure. I knew they were from my protests but from the way the Inspector was hammering me I suspect that he thought I was urging him on.

I couldn't stop myself from climaxing. Well, for that matter I didn't even try. If I was getting fucked then I deserved to get something out of it. I could tell it was coming, my squeals giving way to rapid gasps, and then I screamed as I got carried away. I could feel him jerking about inside me, and if I'd had the energy I'd have cursed him again.

The waves of pleasure subsided and I sort of sagged forward, knocking my bag. It promptly fell on its side and half the contents cascaded onto the seat. There, riding the swell like a surfboard was my damn ticket.

Even as the Inspector was pulling out I was snatching it up and turning on him.

"Here, see," I yelled at him. "I said I had a ticket. All you had to do was give me time to find it."

"Ah, yes," he said. "So you have. Now if I'd written out an infringement notice we could have torn it up now, but you wouldn't give me your details. As it is, I can't really cancel the fuck I gave you, but I'll tell you what. You can give me one in return and I won't resist."

I just glared at him. I couldn't even report him. The losers would back up his story and I'd come out looking like a racist jerk. I just ignored the lot of them, sitting down, fulminating to myself. I also made a mental note not to get in a carriage with those losers in the future. Who knows what they might decide to do.