Melody was the whore of a married man.
The taste of his cum was still in her mouth, it was threatening to run down her legs on the subway ride home. She couldn't sit, since it was so obvious she had no underwear.
She was in shock, this was something she thought she'd never do.
I am the whore of a married man.
The thought reverberated in her mind since she signed her name in blood. Those words would pull her out of a sound sleep.
What had she done?
He didn't even pretend to be single, he practically shoved her face into photographs of his family while he fucked her.
Melody was well fucked.
Her body was tired, and it was late. It was the time of day that a woman alone on the train would not have to go looking for trouble, it would just find her.
The world seemed more vacant. The train car was empty, save for herself and a sleeping homeless man in the other corner. She hadn't come across another soul since she left work.
She hadn't felt alive since she left the presence of her Master.
His cum had dribbled down between her thighs.
She scooped two fingers worth into her mouth.
There. There it was.
His cum was her life.
The door at the other end of the train opened, spilling street punks into the compartment.
"Oh shit."
She said to herself, her hand mid scoop into her cunt searching for more cum, cum that was smeared on her lips and chin.
"Hello fatty! Look boys, fatty here is priming herself up for us."
The three men encircled her as the train rocked between stations.
"A fat fuck wouldn't be my first choice, but any cunt in a storm, eh fellas?"
The laughter of the other two was slow and full of bass. The tall one slapped her hard on her ass, the short fat one pulled her arms back around a pole. Their leader leaned in to smell Melody's tits, and then ripped her blouse open exposing them to the world.
"Look at the size of those tits boys!"
"Dude! She got a mark!"
The short fat punk released Melody like he'd been scalded. She tumbled forward into the bench seats of the train.
Melody was ready to fuck. She wanted to fuck. She tried to unzip the nearest punk who then flinched away from her.
He looked her in the face.
"You tell your Master we didn't know you were marked."
They left as fast as they appeared.
Marked?
She lay there on the seats until the train hit the next station. It wasn't her stop, but for modesty's sake she'd try to pick herself up.
How was she marked, and why did they leave her alone?
Her blouse was ruined, and so was her bra, her right breast hung bare. There was little she could do to cover herself. It was obvious she'd been assaulted.
She mustered up the dignity she had left, to leave the train and enter the station. As late as it was, there should be people Melody would have to walk passed on the way home. As luck would have it, the subway station was empty save for a pair of police officers.
Melody approached them.
"Help me, please help me."
Neither cop appeared to hear or even notice her standing there.
"I was attacked... On the train."
Again, no response. Until the second cop turned and looked right at her.
"You must be new to this, so I'll explain it to you. Good cop, bad cop."
He gestured to his partner then himself.
"you have a mark, so good people..."
He waved his hand in front of his partners face.
"not going to notice, not that they would really care anyways."
He brought his nightstick first to her exposed tit, then hooked it into her cunt.
"If not for your little mark, I'd be fucking your fat little ass right up against the wall right now. So why don't you hurry on home now, some of the creatures of the night aren't as respectful as I am."
Then she saw it.
In the reflection of herself behind the cop, a birthmark above her right nipple.
A birthmark she had never had before.
A birthmark right where her Master drew the blood to fill the pen she used to sign the contract.
Not a mark, a symbol.
