The Tube

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.

He disappeared again under the folds of her skirt to lap at her throbbing lips, feasting gleefully on her desperation, licking and tasting. He built a steady rhythm and before long she was grinding against him. He ran his tongue down the length of her thigh. Her knees were so weak that if she hadn't been tied tight to the pole, she would have fallen. He stood again, his hand remaining underneath and inside of her, running tight circles on her clit. He stared at her face, daring her to come.

"Bitch. You want to come so bad, don't you?" Little drops of spit from his mouth landed on her cheek. He pushed harder, ground harder on her clit, forcing all four fingers on his hand into her cunt.

While his hand fucked her, holding steady, his other hand pressed firmly against her breasts, first on top of her sweater, and then underneath. He massaged them, crushed them, grabbing onto her nipples and pulling them hard until they were so far from her body, so tight and sore, twisting and pinching until he finally released them and they bounced back into place, burning and red hot.

His breath was warm again as he stood and licked her neck, pulled her hair. He yanked her neck back and thrust his tongue into her mouth. He sucked on her tongue, then her neck, leaving a purple bruise in his wake. Then both hands moved, slowly, wickedly, under her skirt again, toying with her pussy. He teased and taunted, touching and pinching, never entering. She could feel his hard cock against her thigh like a thick rope, pressing against the jeans he wore, ready to burst through. She wondered when he would use it. If he would use it. And she wondered if it would fit. It pulsated against her legs, ready and willing.

Without warning he shoved his thumb into the crease of her ass and then into her tight hole. He rammed it in and out as she clenched to try to prevent him from fucking her ass. It was no use. He fucked her tiny hole until she could strain against it no longer and he grew bored.

He pushed her face hard against the steel pole, holding it there, her cheek crushed against the metal until she tasted blood on the inside of her mouth, like bitter tin.

"My turn," he said as his fingers, rough like sandpaper, trailed up and down her thighs, dragging her own wetness across her like body paint.

In a single motion, he pulled his dick from his pants and slammed it into her ass, ripping her flesh with the girth and force of it. He was huge; bigger than she'd anticipated, his thick shaft filling every inch of her, stretching her, forcing her tiny body to take in more of his throbbing dick. She moaned and he laughed. He continued to work, first in and out at lightning pace and then agonizingly slow, deliberately moving it in a circular motion and from side to side, rubbing her clit with his fingers. It was too much and she came before he did.

"You whore," he said breathlessly.

He pushed his cock so far into her that she sucked in her breath and stood on tiptoes to try to take it all in, hoping it wasn't going to tear straight through her, not caring if it did. He finally removed his cock from her weakened ass and repositioned himself. He lifted her up off the ground with one muscular hand to fit every last inch of his manhood inside her, pulsing and pushing. He left it there until tears streamed down her cheeks. He pulled it out so langorously that she felt faint. He worked it again, in and out, slow and full, pinching her nipples and rubbing her clit in unison with his rhythm. And she came again, moaning and writhing, trying to free her wrists, still tied tight to the pole.

He pleasured himself then, pulling his dick part of the way out and pounding it back in, exploding inside of her like a freight train, his sex dripping down her legs and wetting her underwear puddled on the floor. She closed her eyes and it was his turn to moan.

When he was finished, he pulled his dick out of her cunt fast and painfully, with no regard for her. He slid her wrists down the pole until they rested on the pole by her waist.

"Kneel down."

She turned awkwardly to face him, seeing him for the first time since he had raped her. His dick was immense and she couldn't imagine it had actually fit inside of her, yet there it was, still fully erect, her cum mixed with his and dripping off the shaft. Her eyes trailed up his chest and rested on his face. It was blank.

"Kneel down," he repeated.

She knelt before him, her arms still strapped, making it difficult to turn and face his bobbing cock.

"Clean me off. With your mouth." He motioned to her face.

She leaned forward slowly, the muscles in her arms screaming in agony. She took his erect shaft into her mouth and gingerly sucked.

"Harder."

She looked up at him, while keeping her mouth tightly on his dick. She tried to lean forward far enough to take it all in, but she gagged and choked.

He grabbed her by the hair. "Clean the whole thing. Top to bottom." He pointed to his ball sac. "Bottom," he emphasized.

She went to work again, fighting past the urge to vomit. She slid it in and as it touched the back of her throat, she opened up and deep throated him, sucking the cum from his dick.

He leaned back, his eyes rolling back in his head. "Good girl."

She paused to catch her breath and he came back to reality fast. "Keep it up, bitch."

She moved her mouth along his long, hard cock, pulling it into her mouth, sucking on it like a straw. His cum came fast and hit the back of her throat. She coughed and accidentally bit his dick.

He pulled his cock from her mouth and slapped her face, leaving a pink imprint in its wake.

He grabbed his pants, waiting around his ankles, and pulled them up, looking at her.

"You want me to untie you?" He reached for the rope. "Maybe I should leave you here for the next unlucky guy."

She spoke, her throat dry, her voice raspy. "Please," was all she could muster.

He yanked up her underwear, his fingers finding their way into her sore and used pussy one last time. She gasped and he laughed. Then he unleashed the rope and her wrists dropped to her side, throbbing as strong as her clit.

The train slowed and stopped once more and he said, "This is me," and he exited through the open doors as if they'd just ridden home together after a long day at work.

She fell in heap to the floor of the train, no idea where she was or how to get home, bruises spreading on her newly freed wrists and no doubt on her pussy as well, all to match the marks on her neck and cheek.

And a smile crept onto her face.