Amy sprinted up the stairs as quickly as possible. She heard the blow of the whistle, and the roar of engines
“NO, WAIT!” she shouted, running along the platform as the train pulled away. She stooped, her hands on her knees, panting. She looked at her watch, then up at the departure aboard.
22:14. Next departure 23:14
Amy stormed angrily back down the stairs, under the tunnel beneath the station, and up the stairs on the opposite platform. The wind and rain howled down the platform, the signs swinging, leaves and litter tumbling past the red brick station buildings. She pushed open the door of the small shop that stood there. The lights were off, apart from a couple behind the counter. A young man was mopping the floor, stacking chairs as he went.
“S-sorry, we’re closed” he said nervously as Amy pushed the door too behind her.
“Please, can you help me out?” Amy asked, desperation in her voice. “I’ve just come off a 14 hour shift, missed my train, the next one isn’t for an hour. I just want a coffee or something to keep warm. The young man looked her up and down. Her long blonde hair, knotted in a ponytail, hung halfway down her back. The black skirt hugged her hips, her long legs clad in sheer black stockings. The wind and rain had dampened her white blouse, allowing the young man to see her black bra through the fabric. He smiled and blushed, and squeaked out a reply.
“Err-o-okay, I suppose I c-can-“he stuttered “It’d need to be cash though” Amy rummaged through her black leather bag, pulling out a handful of loose change. She counted out the money, placing it in a small stack on the counter. The young man passed the cup of freshly brewed coffee to her, placing the money on top of the coffee machine
“I really appreciate this” Amy smiled, placing her lips over the edge of the cup, her bright red lipstick leaving a mark on the plastic lip.
“T-that’s okay. But I-I’m afraid you can’t stay in here, I need to lock up and set the alarm, otherwise I’ll be in trouble” the young man tentatively replied
“Oh….” Amy sighed “….That’s fine; the coffee was more than you had to do for me. I really appreciate it” she smiled at the young man, huddled her suit jacket close to her and headed back out into the elements.
10 minutes passed. Amy huddled around her half-full coffee cup, extracting any warmth she possibly could. She had sat down, but the cold metal of the seat made it unbearable, so she propped herself up behind a pillar, sheltering as best she could from the elements. Suddenly, a loud screech of feedback blasted through the ancient tannoy. Amy turned to look angrily at the speaker above her head.
“Now arriiiiiii at Platforrrrrrmmm 3 is the BzzzzZTTT train to Lond-VVVVT” the speaker blared, distorted and almost indecipherable. Amy glanced back at the platform to see the train slowly trundling in. Its headlights highlighting the driving rain. The destination on the front of the train matched the one Amy always took. It was the same dirty purple as her usual train. It stopped with the same creak and groan the train always did.
“Huh, board must be broken” Amy muttered to herself. The last carriage of the train stopped in front of where Amy stood, the doors sliding open in stages. She stepped up into the carriage, the temperature inside somehow colder than outside. She sat down on a bench with a table, cradling the coffee in both hands. The train doors, juddered closed, and the train slowly departed. As the train sped up, Amy felt a breeze from a window above. Pushing it closed, she slumped back into the seat, feeling a little warmer than she had done for hours. She looked around the carriage. She was the only one there. She pulled her phone from her bag. 2% battery. She sighed throwing it back into her bag. She threw her head back, looking up at the ceiling. Her peace was disturbed by another feedback screech, and a totally indecipherable announcement about the next station. She closed her eyes, relaxing as best she could. The train came to a halt, the doors rattling open once again. 4 men got on, distributing themselves throughout the carriage. A man in a yellow hi-visibility jacket, carry a bag of tools; an engineer of some description. A handsome older gentleman, in his 50’s, wearing a dark blue suit and matching tie. A young punk rocker, piercings in his face, glued to his phone. The final man was a middle age man wearing a black hoodie and tracksuit bottoms, his eyes bloodshot, his face ravaged by drugs and alcohol. The stench of stale beer wafted past Amy as he walked by, sitting in a seat further down the carriage. The punk sat at the table on the other side of the train to Amy, the other two further towards the rear of the train. The doors closed the train rumbling out of the station into the darkness. The drunk sat occasionally mumbling to himself, while the punk stared at his phone screen, his gaze not averting for a second. Suddenly, the train began to slow, eventually coming to a standstill. Amy looked out of the window, not being able to make out anything in the darkness. The tannoy squeaked into life, a voice grating a straining, only barely distinguishable as English deafened the carriage.
“We have currently stopped. We are trying to work out why. Thank you” Amy sighed, her coffee no longer providing warmth. The drunk stood up, swinging as he walked and fell down into the seat opposite Amy. She grimaced as he leant forward on the battered table and grinned at her, his teeth yellowed, decay riddled. He started to speak, his speech slurred, his accent thick and heavy.
“’Scuse me love, ‘ave you got a quid I can borrow like, y’know for the bus and that?” Amy grabbed her bag tightly and shook her head.
“N-No, sorry, I’ve no change on me” he replied nervously. The drunk scoffed, slamming his hands onto the table as he stood up and turned to the punk, making Amy jump. He asked the punk the same question. The punk replied to his request with a simple
“I’m sorry, no” and continued staring at his phone. The drunk shuffled off down the carriage, asking the two others the same question. Amy couldn’t hear the responses, but assumed them to be negative. The drunk wander back down, bouncing off the train doors as his balance betrayed him. Supporting themselves using the backs of the seats, he made his way back towards Amy and the punk. When he arrived, he slammed his hand onto Amy’s shoulder, spinning around and taking a seat opposite.
“C’mon love, you must be fuckin’ loaded like” he sneered, grabbing at her bag.
“Get off you pig!” She yelled, drawing the attention of the other passengers. The drunk yanked the bag from her grasp, sending the contents cascading across the carriage. The drunk started to gather the coins that had spilled onto the table, while Amy scooped up the things that had fallen to the floor. She tried to reach under the table but lost her foot, falling chest first onto the wet floor. Standing up quickly, she tried to wipe the dirt from her top, only proceeding to make it worse. The wet floor had made her blouse practically see-through. She pulled her suit jacket as closed as possible, her large chest making it so she couldn’t cover up completely. She stood back up, and noticed the 4 mean all stood around her.
“Errrr, hi….?” she said, puzzled. “Can I help?” The lights in the carriage suddenly went out, plunging the train into complete darkness. Amy let out a small scream, quickly silenced by a large hand over her mouth. “MMMMMFFF-“ She screamed as loud as she could, the noise reduced to just a muffled cry. She kicked and flailed as best she could as she could feel her jacket being removed. She felt her hands being grabbed, being held behind her back, and heard the distinctive tearing of tape. The tape bound her wrist, the stickiness of the tape cold and uncomfortable. She felt the same feeling at her elbows, desperately trying to shake off her assault. She heard the tape noise again, and felt the distinctive tackiness of tape being stretched over her eyes, wrapped tightly around her head. She yelped into the hand has she felt a sharp kick to the backs of her knees, then the damp hardness of the train carriage floor. The hand left her mouth, allowing her to gasp briefly for air “P-Please, I haven’t done anything, just let me g-“ her pleas being cut short as a cock was forced into her mouth. She gagged as he held it in her mouth, spit and phlegm built under her tongue running down her chin. She could smell the distinct musk of leather mixed with sweat, determining this must be the punk. She tried to shuffle away, two firm hands on her shoulders preventing escape. The punk pulled from her mouth, letting Amy gasp for air briefly being forced back over the head of the shaft. Her head was being forced from behind, pushing the cock to the back of her throat each time. She screamed around the cock as she felt her blouse being torn open, and a small, sweaty hand entering her bra, grabbing onto her large breasts like an infant grabbing treats from a supermarket shelf. The hand was accompanied by another, the fingers digging in uncomfortably, mauling and molesting. She felt a sharpness pulling at the front of the bra, hearing a snip and feeling the tension of the support relax. Suddenly a sharp pain shot through her breast, causing her to loudly cry out around the cock assaulting her throat. The pain felt like someone biting down, confirmed by the feel of a tongue swirling over her nipples, erect and prominent from the chill of the carriage. The mouth continued to nibble, grab and bite, the hands handling her breast like child’s modelling clay. There were no voices, just the sound of her mouth being assaulted, the shuffling of feet and the occasional grunting. A voice broke the silence.
“D, your turn”
“Cheers P” the voice replied, slurring. The drunk. It had to be. She lost the smell of leather, the air being replaced with the stench of stale whiskey and general uncleanliness. Amy yelped as she was slapped hard across the face “Open up” D snapped at her, grabbing the back of her head and forcing her down onto his foul member. He was thin, but very long. Amy’s face was buried into his pubic hair, the tip of his cock stopping her from breathing. She tried to push away using her forehead, the drunk’s force on the back of head way to much for her to overcome. As she was at the point of passing out, he pulled out, letting go of her head, letting her fall to the floor, coughing and gasping.
“I…..*cough* Please no, let me….*cough* I-I-“ she gasped, her face resting against the cold, wet floor. A hand grabbed at her ponytail, yanking her back onto her knees. Her mouth was invaded again, the same process being repeated over and over, each time leaving less and less time for her to recover.
“D, don’t kill her mate, two more of us to have a go here!” a voice laughed from behind us.
“Calm down S” the drunk slurred “Plenty of this to go round!” followed by a chorus of laughter from the occupants of the carriage. “Alright then S, your turn” Amy collapsed to the ground, gasping and sobbing. She felt two rough, hairy arms wrap around her waist, lifting her from the floor. She was slammed down onto the table, her arms crushed beneath her, her head hanging over the edge. She felt the blood rushing into the back of her head, her face flushing bright red as a result. She could feel the window at her feet and tried to push away, her high heels clicking against the glass as she pushed.
“Stop squirming, bitch!” a gruff voice, one she hadn’t heard before growled, slapping her hard across the cheek. “D, P; hold her down lads” the voice grumbled. Amy felt hands grip her ankles, pushing her down into the hard table.
“Chuck us some of that cable H” the punk said, fighting to keep Amy pinned down.
“NO! GET OFF ME YOU FUCKING PIGS! LET ME GO!” Amy screamed as loud as she could, kicking and writhing, the two men struggling to hold her down.
“Shut the fuck up, bitch!” The gruff voice said, clamping a coarse hand over her mouth. “Here P, get her secure”, throwing a length of black cable to the punk.
“Cheers” he replied. Forming the cable into a loop, he slipped it round her left ankle, winding it round a couple of times, before passing it underneath the table “Catch, D”. The drunk looped the other end of the cable around her right ankle, pulling it painfully tight, causing her ankles to slide off the edge of the table, her skirt riding up to reveal the tops of her stockings. The drunk let out a whistle, then laughed,
“Decent catch this S, one of your better ones!” All 4 guys roared with laughter, watching as Amy writhed against her binds. “Go on pal, your turn” Amy heard the clinking of a belt, as the hand lifted from her mouth.
“Please, no, I c-“ Amy started, before being gagged with another cock. This one was shorter than the other two, but much wider, still uncomfortable in her mouth. One of the rough hands grabbed her around the throat, shoving her head onto the cock. She felt the warmth of the guys balls crashing into her face, the stickiness of her drool running down, across her cheeks, over the tape covering her eyes, into her hair. She felt another tug at her ponytail, something dragging her head even further downwards over the table edge. She tried to move her head back up, but felt a tug at her hair. Her ponytail had been tied with another cable, attached to the cable connecting her ankles.
“Perfect angle this” the engineer growled, relentlessly fucking her face, the drool streaming across her cheeks, up her nose, rolling into the roots of her hair. She squirmed as she felt a weight on her feet, and the shrieked, albeit muffled as something ripped away her panties. She felt the cold air inside the train whip over her flesh, and then the even colder shock of something metallic between her legs. It took a second or two to get used to the temperature, only for her to jump as the metal object started vibrating.
“NNNNN-!” she squealed, her noises almost silenced. She felt a soft fabric against her bare breasts, the strong scent of aftershave. The businessman was atop her, torturing her clit using the vibrating object, teasing it in and out of her, rubbing against her with his fingers. She felt herself getting warmer, flushed, her pussy getting wetter.
“No, please no….” she thought to herself, breathing heavily, gasping around the cock in her mouth, gently moaning.
“This one’s a gusher!” The guy in the suit exclaimed, accompanied by the now familiar laughter. The handyman fucking her mouth pulled out, allowing Amy’s shrieks and cries to echo through the train as her cum flooded the table, leaving her lie, bound uncomfortably, gasping and panting.
“Please……ah…..just…..I wanna go home….just …let me go….” she said breathlessly. The men all laughed, and evil tone to their joviality
“Not a chance little lady” The drunk slurred “You’re ours now”
“Get her ready” the businessman ordered. Amy was sobbing uncontrollably. She was broken, no fight left in her. She felt something being shoved into her mouth, cold, hard and metallic. A large metal ring, with leather straps that were fastened behind her head. She winced as the tape was ripped from over eyes. The train was lit up, garish red lighting everywhere, the carriage now looking like an extremely seedy nightclub, rather than a 1980’s train carriage. She looked around as best she could with her head restrained, feeling the drool on her cheeks now running down across her left eye. A hand wiped away the mess, wiping his hand on her naked chest. Amy looked up to see 4 men, all upside down from her perspective. All 4 were naked, stroking themselves, grinning maniacally. Amy tried to scream, but the noise that came out was garbled and distorted by the ring in her mouth. She felt the train begin to move again, accelerating at an almost uncomfortable rate. The train steadied out a rapid pace, the wheels against the wheels creating a rapid, rhythmical pattern. The men all stood around her, masturbating almost in time with the rhythm of the train. Almost in unison, they came, spurting streams of cum across Amy’s face. Wads of salty jizz hit her eyes, her cheeks, running off her chin, filling her mouth. She coughed and spluttered as best she can, cum pooling in the top of her mouth. She started to weep again, as the hands of the men began to grope her body, fingers poking, prodding and probing.
Amy watched as businessman bent down to her level. He looked her straight in the eye, and whispered
“Enjoy the ride….”
Author: the_silkman
Last Train Home
Amy sprinted up the stairs as quickly as possible. She heard the blow of the whistle, and the roar of engines
“NO, WAIT!” she shouted, running along the platform as the train pulled away. She stooped, her hands on her knees, panting. She looked at her watch, then up at the departure aboard.
22:14. Next departure 23:14
Amy stormed angrily back down the stairs, under the tunnel beneath the station, and up the stairs on the opposite platform. The wind and rain howled down the platform, the signs swinging, leaves and litter tumbling past the red brick station buildings. She pushed open the door of the small shop that stood there. The lights were off, apart from a couple behind the counter. A young man was mopping the floor, stacking chairs as he went.
“S-sorry, we’re closed” he said nervously as Amy pushed the door too behind her.
“Please, can you help me out?” Amy asked, desperation in her voice. “I’ve just come off a 14 hour shift, missed my train, the next one isn’t for an hour. I just want a coffee or something to keep warm. The young man looked her up and down. Her long blonde hair, knotted in a ponytail, hung halfway down her back. The black skirt hugged her hips, her long legs clad in sheer black stockings. The wind and rain had dampened her white blouse, allowing the young man to see her black bra through the fabric. He smiled and blushed, and squeaked out a reply.
“Err-o-okay, I suppose I c-can-“he stuttered “It’d need to be cash though” Amy rummaged through her black leather bag, pulling out a handful of loose change. She counted out the money, placing it in a small stack on the counter. The young man passed the cup of freshly brewed coffee to her, placing the money on top of the coffee machine
“I really appreciate this” Amy smiled, placing her lips over the edge of the cup, her bright red lipstick leaving a mark on the plastic lip.
“T-that’s okay. But I-I’m afraid you can’t stay in here, I need to lock up and set the alarm, otherwise I’ll be in trouble” the young man tentatively replied
“Oh….” Amy sighed “….That’s fine; the coffee was more than you had to do for me. I really appreciate it” she smiled at the young man, huddled her suit jacket close to her and headed back out into the elements.
10 minutes passed. Amy huddled around her half-full coffee cup, extracting any warmth she possibly could. She had sat down, but the cold metal of the seat made it unbearable, so she propped herself up behind a pillar, sheltering as best she could from the elements. Suddenly, a loud screech of feedback blasted through the ancient tannoy. Amy turned to look angrily at the speaker above her head.
“Now arriiiiiii at Platforrrrrrmmm 3 is the BzzzzZTTT train to Lond-VVVVT” the speaker blared, distorted and almost indecipherable. Amy glanced back at the platform to see the train slowly trundling in. Its headlights highlighting the driving rain. The destination on the front of the train matched the one Amy always took. It was the same dirty purple as her usual train. It stopped with the same creak and groan the train always did.
“Huh, board must be broken” Amy muttered to herself. The last carriage of the train stopped in front of where Amy stood, the doors sliding open in stages. She stepped up into the carriage, the temperature inside somehow colder than outside. She sat down on a bench with a table, cradling the coffee in both hands. The train doors, juddered closed, and the train slowly departed. As the train sped up, Amy felt a breeze from a window above. Pushing it closed, she slumped back into the seat, feeling a little warmer than she had done for hours. She looked around the carriage. She was the only one there. She pulled her phone from her bag. 2% battery. She sighed throwing it back into her bag. She threw her head back, looking up at the ceiling. Her peace was disturbed by another feedback screech, and a totally indecipherable announcement about the next station. She closed her eyes, relaxing as best she could. The train came to a halt, the doors rattling open once again. 4 men got on, distributing themselves throughout the carriage. A man in a yellow hi-visibility jacket, carry a bag of tools; an engineer of some description. A handsome older gentleman, in his 50’s, wearing a dark blue suit and matching tie. A young punk rocker, piercings in his face, glued to his phone. The final man was a middle age man wearing a black hoodie and tracksuit bottoms, his eyes bloodshot, his face ravaged by drugs and alcohol. The stench of stale beer wafted past Amy as he walked by, sitting in a seat further down the carriage. The punk sat at the table on the other side of the train to Amy, the other two further towards the rear of the train. The doors closed the train rumbling out of the station into the darkness. The drunk sat occasionally mumbling to himself, while the punk stared at his phone screen, his gaze not averting for a second. Suddenly, the train began to slow, eventually coming to a standstill. Amy looked out of the window, not being able to make out anything in the darkness. The tannoy squeaked into life, a voice grating a straining, only barely distinguishable as English deafened the carriage.
“We have currently stopped. We are trying to work out why. Thank you” Amy sighed, her coffee no longer providing warmth. The drunk stood up, swinging as he walked and fell down into the seat opposite Amy. She grimaced as he leant forward on the battered table and grinned at her, his teeth yellowed, decay riddled. He started to speak, his speech slurred, his accent thick and heavy.
“’Scuse me love, ‘ave you got a quid I can borrow like, y’know for the bus and that?” Amy grabbed her bag tightly and shook her head.
“N-No, sorry, I’ve no change on me” he replied nervously. The drunk scoffed, slamming his hands onto the table as he stood up and turned to the punk, making Amy jump. He asked the punk the same question. The punk replied to his request with a simple
“I’m sorry, no” and continued staring at his phone. The drunk shuffled off down the carriage, asking the two others the same question. Amy couldn’t hear the responses, but assumed them to be negative. The drunk wander back down, bouncing off the train doors as his balance betrayed him. Supporting themselves using the backs of the seats, he made his way back towards Amy and the punk. When he arrived, he slammed his hand onto Amy’s shoulder, spinning around and taking a seat opposite.
“C’mon love, you must be fuckin’ loaded like” he sneered, grabbing at her bag.
“Get off you pig!” She yelled, drawing the attention of the other passengers. The drunk yanked the bag from her grasp, sending the contents cascading across the carriage. The drunk started to gather the coins that had spilled onto the table, while Amy scooped up the things that had fallen to the floor. She tried to reach under the table but lost her foot, falling chest first onto the wet floor. Standing up quickly, she tried to wipe the dirt from her top, only proceeding to make it worse. The wet floor had made her blouse practically see-through. She pulled her suit jacket as closed as possible, her large chest making it so she couldn’t cover up completely. She stood back up, and noticed the 4 mean all stood around her.
“Errrr, hi….?” she said, puzzled. “Can I help?” The lights in the carriage suddenly went out, plunging the train into complete darkness. Amy let out a small scream, quickly silenced by a large hand over her mouth. “MMMMMFFF-“ She screamed as loud as she could, the noise reduced to just a muffled cry. She kicked and flailed as best she could as she could feel her jacket being removed. She felt her hands being grabbed, being held behind her back, and heard the distinctive tearing of tape. The tape bound her wrist, the stickiness of the tape cold and uncomfortable. She felt the same feeling at her elbows, desperately trying to shake off her assault. She heard the tape noise again, and felt the distinctive tackiness of tape being stretched over her eyes, wrapped tightly around her head. She yelped into the hand has she felt a sharp kick to the backs of her knees, then the damp hardness of the train carriage floor. The hand left her mouth, allowing her to gasp briefly for air “P-Please, I haven’t done anything, just let me g-“ her pleas being cut short as a cock was forced into her mouth. She gagged as he held it in her mouth, spit and phlegm built under her tongue running down her chin. She could smell the distinct musk of leather mixed with sweat, determining this must be the punk. She tried to shuffle away, two firm hands on her shoulders preventing escape. The punk pulled from her mouth, letting Amy gasp for air briefly being forced back over the head of the shaft. Her head was being forced from behind, pushing the cock to the back of her throat each time. She screamed around the cock as she felt her blouse being torn open, and a small, sweaty hand entering her bra, grabbing onto her large breasts like an infant grabbing treats from a supermarket shelf. The hand was accompanied by another, the fingers digging in uncomfortably, mauling and molesting. She felt a sharpness pulling at the front of the bra, hearing a snip and feeling the tension of the support relax. Suddenly a sharp pain shot through her breast, causing her to loudly cry out around the cock assaulting her throat. The pain felt like someone biting down, confirmed by the feel of a tongue swirling over her nipples, erect and prominent from the chill of the carriage. The mouth continued to nibble, grab and bite, the hands handling her breast like child’s modelling clay. There were no voices, just the sound of her mouth being assaulted, the shuffling of feet and the occasional grunting. A voice broke the silence.
“D, your turn”
“Cheers P” the voice replied, slurring. The drunk. It had to be. She lost the smell of leather, the air being replaced with the stench of stale whiskey and general uncleanliness. Amy yelped as she was slapped hard across the face “Open up” D snapped at her, grabbing the back of her head and forcing her down onto his foul member. He was thin, but very long. Amy’s face was buried into his pubic hair, the tip of his cock stopping her from breathing. She tried to push away using her forehead, the drunk’s force on the back of head way to much for her to overcome. As she was at the point of passing out, he pulled out, letting go of her head, letting her fall to the floor, coughing and gasping.
“I…..cough Please no, let me….cough I-I-“ she gasped, her face resting against the cold, wet floor. A hand grabbed at her ponytail, yanking her back onto her knees. Her mouth was invaded again, the same process being repeated over and over, each time leaving less and less time for her to recover.
“D, don’t kill her mate, two more of us to have a go here!” a voice laughed from behind us.
“Calm down S” the drunk slurred “Plenty of this to go round!” followed by a chorus of laughter from the occupants of the carriage. “Alright then S, your turn” Amy collapsed to the ground, gasping and sobbing. She felt two rough, hairy arms wrap around her waist, lifting her from the floor. She was slammed down onto the table, her arms crushed beneath her, her head hanging over the edge. She felt the blood rushing into the back of her head, her face flushing bright red as a result. She could feel the window at her feet and tried to push away, her high heels clicking against the glass as she pushed.
“Stop squirming, bitch!” a gruff voice, one she hadn’t heard before growled, slapping her hard across the cheek. “D, P; hold her down lads” the voice grumbled. Amy felt hands grip her ankles, pushing her down into the hard table.
“Chuck us some of that cable H” the punk said, fighting to keep Amy pinned down.
“NO! GET OFF ME YOU FUCKING PIGS! LET ME GO!” Amy screamed as loud as she could, kicking and writhing, the two men struggling to hold her down.
“Shut the fuck up, bitch!” The gruff voice said, clamping a coarse hand over her mouth. “Here P, get her secure”, throwing a length of black cable to the punk.
“Cheers” he replied. Forming the cable into a loop, he slipped it round her left ankle, winding it round a couple of times, before passing it underneath the table “Catch, D”. The drunk looped the other end of the cable around her right ankle, pulling it painfully tight, causing her ankles to slide off the edge of the table, her skirt riding up to reveal the tops of her stockings. The drunk let out a whistle, then laughed,
“Decent catch this S, one of your better ones!” All 4 guys roared with laughter, watching as Amy writhed against her binds. “Go on pal, your turn” Amy heard the clinking of a belt, as the hand lifted from her mouth.
“Please, no, I c-“ Amy started, before being gagged with another cock. This one was shorter than the other two, but much wider, still uncomfortable in her mouth. One of the rough hands grabbed her around the throat, shoving her head onto the cock. She felt the warmth of the guys balls crashing into her face, the stickiness of her drool running down, across her cheeks, over the tape covering her eyes, into her hair. She felt another tug at her ponytail, something dragging her head even further downwards over the table edge. She tried to move her head back up, but felt a tug at her hair. Her ponytail had been tied with another cable, attached to the cable connecting her ankles.
“Perfect angle this” the engineer growled, relentlessly fucking her face, the drool streaming across her cheeks, up her nose, rolling into the roots of her hair. She squirmed as she felt a weight on her feet, and the shrieked, albeit muffled as something ripped away her panties. She felt the cold air inside the train whip over her flesh, and then the even colder shock of something metallic between her legs. It took a second or two to get used to the temperature, only for her to jump as the metal object started vibrating.
“NNNNN-!” she squealed, her noises almost silenced. She felt a soft fabric against her bare breasts, the strong scent of aftershave. The businessman was atop her, torturing her clit using the vibrating object, teasing it in and out of her, rubbing against her with his fingers. She felt herself getting warmer, flushed, her pussy getting wetter.
“No, please no….” she thought to herself, breathing heavily, gasping around the cock in her mouth, gently moaning.
“This one’s a gusher!” The guy in the suit exclaimed, accompanied by the now familiar laughter. The handyman fucking her mouth pulled out, allowing Amy’s shrieks and cries to echo through the train as her cum flooded the table, leaving her lie, bound uncomfortably, gasping and panting.
“Please……ah…..just…..I wanna go home….just …let me go….” she said breathlessly. The men all laughed, and evil tone to their joviality
“Not a chance little lady” The drunk slurred “You’re ours now”
“Get her ready” the businessman ordered. Amy was sobbing uncontrollably. She was broken, no fight left in her. She felt something being shoved into her mouth, cold, hard and metallic. A large metal ring, with leather straps that were fastened behind her head. She winced as the tape was ripped from over eyes. The train was lit up, garish red lighting everywhere, the carriage now looking like an extremely seedy nightclub, rather than a 1980’s train carriage. She looked around as best she could with her head restrained, feeling the drool on her cheeks now running down across her left eye. A hand wiped away the mess, wiping his hand on her naked chest. Amy looked up to see 4 men, all upside down from her perspective. All 4 were naked, stroking themselves, grinning maniacally. Amy tried to scream, but the noise that came out was garbled and distorted by the ring in her mouth. She felt the train begin to move again, accelerating at an almost uncomfortable rate. The train steadied out a rapid pace, the wheels against the wheels creating a rapid, rhythmical pattern. The men all stood around her, masturbating almost in time with the rhythm of the train. Almost in unison, they came, spurting streams of cum across Amy’s face. Wads of salty jizz hit her eyes, her cheeks, running off her chin, filling her mouth. She coughed and spluttered as best she can, cum pooling in the top of her mouth. She started to weep again, as the hands of the men began to grope her body, fingers poking, prodding and probing.
Amy watched as businessman bent down to her level. He looked her straight in the eye, and whispered
“Enjoy the ride….”
The Aftermath
You hear a door quietly close, the latch clicking, the handle rattling back into place, shaking you from a glorious slumber. As your eyes adjust to the morning, you begin to take stock of your surroundings. The early morning sun cascades light a cross the room through the large sliding doors that lead to a balcony overlooking golden sands and clear ocean water. The furniture is modern, sleek, minimalist. Around you lay discarded bedding, pillows strewn everywhere, the covers hunched at the base of the giant bed. And uncomfortable feeling sits between your legs, the crisp white linen soaked with the nights endeavours, your thighs sticky from dried sweat and your own pleasure. You try to smile and roll away from the mess, to get comfortable, trying to remember what must have been a beautiful, passionate night. The tight feeling at your wrists suddenly snaps back the true memories of that night.
A night out with work. A reward for you and your colleagues for smashing that deadline. A few drinks at a local bar, before heading to a club. The long queue bypassed as you and your colleagues are waved by, Tara from accounts caressing the muscle-bound club bouncer as he waves her by. The thumping bass from the music taking over as you’re handed a drink. Throwing it back, you grab Pascal, the French IT guy who you’d flirted with since he arrived 6 months ago. He stares at you, admiring your diminutive figure, your curves hugged by a classic black dress, barely covering your pert round backside, barely contain your chest. He pulls you close, running his hand down your back, gently squeezing your ass, before pulling you away from the group, onto the heaving dance floor, watching as the music takes hold of you, not a care in the world. The bass seems to get more intense, each thud shaking your brain around inside your skull. Dizziness takes hold, you struggle to stay upright. As you fall, you are grabbed. You look hazily through the ever changing colours of bright flashing lights to see your saviour, then darkness…
You look down at your wrists, bound tightly with pure white rope, your elbows bound the same. Your legs are wide apart, each ankle with a rope wound uncomfortably around them, forcing them in opposite directions. A small gust of wind through the partially open patio doors sends a cold chill over your naked body. As you try to pull an ankle free, the rope tightens, cutting into your milky white flesh. The binds on your arms are even more uncomfortable, pinning your elbows tightly together. You try to scream. Muffled noises, nothing more. Your mouth feels open, yet blocked, a rubbery taste on your tongue. There’s something there, forcing your lips apart. You start to notice warm drool running down your chin, dropping onto your chest. You try to scream again. And again. Writhing against the ropes binding you to the bed. 30 minutes pass. You accept that no amount of thrashing, writhing or muffled screams of desperation are going to free you. Your body is dripping with sweat, your exertions combined with the rising sun warming the room through the large glass doors. You collapse back down into the sweat soaked sheets, panting for breath. Across the room, the large television mounted on the wall opposite the foot of the bed flickers into life. A royal blue screen, flickering with distortion like a vintage video cassette player. A small white triangle appears in the bottom corner, the word ‘Play’ next to it. Tracking lines flicker across the screen as it turns back, before an image appears. A girl, bound to a bed, a large white ball gag between her lips, the sunlight casting shadows on the left side of her body. It’s you. The out of focus images moves as you do, her hips bucking as you do, her back arching as you do. You let out another muffled scream, fighting your binds again, desperation levels increasing rapidly…
The Wrong Neighbourhood [BDSM] [Bondage] [Rape] [Blowjob] [Anal]
The Nurse
A little something I wrote after a recent stay in hospital. Enjoy!
She tended to me every day. Clean my wounds, bring me food, bring me pain meds. She was there when I took my first steps again. She’d laugh at my jokes, tell her own, cheer me up with only a smile. She encouraged me to take a walk around the hospital, pulling my IV drip along so I didn’t have to. We’d walk to the entrance to the old wing, where she would take a shortcut to other parts of the hospital. It had been closed to patients since my accident, the supposed renovations having ground to a halt. I wandered in there once, old rooms with old beds just sat unused, sunlight leaking in through dust covered windows.
I became obsessed with her. The way she smiled as she pulled back my curtain. The way her nose wrinkled as she read my notes. The way a piece of hair would always fall from behind her ear as she changed my dressings. The way she tucked it back, joining the rest of her hair in a long blonde ponytail. The way she poured water from her bottle into her mouth, the plastic never touching her lips, just water cascading in. The way she smelled. The way she wore a uniform a size too small, it outlining her curves, struggling to contain her breast, showing just enough of her thighs….