Everyone, But Me

Never before was I so desperate to have my fingertips pressed against my clitoris, because not even a second had elapsed and I was turning at that sensitive little button like my life depended on it (because, in that moment, it certainly felt as though it did). And I looked at what of my assailant's face I could—which was not much, however—in a desperate attempt to scan what of her expression visible to me I might, for some sort of confidence that this would appease her; that me taking my clit between two fingers, and turning and turning and turning so fast at it as she'd instructed, would satisfy this lesbian perversity that so motivated her, and would, hopefully, get her to finally leave me alone...

Because no one would help me, and so difficult was it to speak, or lash out, or fight this unconquerable fear inside me, that the only method of defense I was left with, was laying down and letting this predator sniff me and exhaust her interest, before running off from whence she came so she might torment someone else—anyone but me... And maybe that is why no one dared to step in and intervene; why no one dared to even so much as utter one word on my behalf, or cast me a single glance:

Anyone, but me.

"Did I tell you to go that fast?" she hissed with an audible smile—so I stopped, only for her to twist my arm. "No, no—I certainly didn't fucking tell you to stop, did I? Keep going, and as you were... It's just that—yeah, you must really, really like the taste of your own pussy hair, if you're rubbing that hard and that fast over it... Fuck, you nasty slut... You're making me wet."

After more obscene comments, and letting me rub myself until I... so filled with shame, and humiliation, and regret... felt a growing dampness in my panties, right at the threshold of my vagina... she stopped me by gripping my wrist, and leisurely setting my hand aside.

"That's enough of that," she cooed in my ear—oh!, and right when I suddenly felt the back of my panties transform into a makeshift g-string, wedged up the crevice of my buttocks... where I noticed she let my arm go, to control me now by the underwear, her hand gripping that makeshift "string" with a tight fist, and threatening to pull up even farther if I dared to refuse her. "Jeans off—all the way, off, now—yes, in front of everyone—and yes, right fucking now. Go, get to it; stop making me wait, you little slut. Bare legs and panties, before I rip either you or your pretty little panties in half—whichever's the stronger between you."

I shuffled and rustled my jeans down until they were at my calves, and tried to kick them the rest of the way off—though trying not to move around too much, given that I could feel my underwear riding higher and higher, and grating... against a very sensitive area...—until I realized having my shoes on would make it almost impossible to do so. And the stranger didn't yield or demonstrate any mercy when I was forced to bend over—the makeshift string of my panties, pried up all too unbearably tight (especially since the woman had reached around and, with two fingers, assisted the front of my panties up between my labia lips, so she was threatening me with so much discomfort and pain, both from the front and the back)—and, trying to free one shoe from one pant leg (a very difficult task, especially under pressure), and then, at last, the other from its own... My jeans were left a bunched mess of dark blue at my feet, as I stood there, in front of everyone else on the train, concealed only as far down as my jacket and shirt would allow... which wasn't very far, as I stared down in fear at the fact you could see more of my vulva around my panties than you couldn't... And my fluffy mound was equally on display for all to see, too, nearly making me faint from how hard I was blushing, in the extremity of my shame.

But backs were turned to me by this point. There wasn't even a solitary pervert secretly a voyeur from afar... No one cared that this was happening to me, and that made me indescribably angry at society... Though, unlike the more macabre of scenes, at least no one had their camera out; at least no one was filming me standing there, hardly in my underwear, with this predatory lesbian making me dance like a puppet on a homemade g-string.

Because if they were... I think my heart would've just stopped.

And it was as if no one else were real anymore—not that they weren't there, because they were... but that they were just really believable cardboard cutouts, or actors having pretended a populace beyond my immediate friends and family were there when they weren't—or, at least, not sincerely, if they were paid to pretend...

Nevertheless—and disregarding that so very frightening sentiment held firmly in the background of my mind (behind the immediate threat of the stranger)—the woman, she made me recoil (though I couldn't get very far, without painfully tearing through my underwear to get free), with every alternation between smacking, and incredibly hard, one exposed cheek and then the other. The sudden anguish of the slap itself, then afterwards, the sting: I could feel my flesh turning pink, as her open hand was left as a visible imprint upon my sensitive, searing skin.

And after slap after slap, smack after smack... where the only thing I could feel, other than my pounding pulse, was the throb of pain... that throb, of pain... My jacket was so quickly pried from my body, and then my shirt was lifted up over my head. Before I even knew what was happening, there I was, in my panties, nearly splitting me in half and barely visible at all, and, concealing only my feet... shoes.

Then, as if she couldn't take it anymore, the woman let go of my underwear, as if having it on good faith that I wouldn't run away (and she was right, either because I was still so paralyzed in fear—or... where could I honestly go, trapped on a train with her, pretty much naked?)... and she lifted up my arm, jerked me around when I didn't understand her demand and wasn't able to immediately comply—and then, burying her nose into my armpit (which was, much to my dismay—but much to her delight—fairly sweaty from the... and admittedly incredibly sexual, tension), I could feel her nostrils sucking at my scent, and then, sometimes her nose, sometimes her mouth, pouring her hot, panting breath against my skin. And sometimes her sniffs were long drones, occasionally leading to perverse snorts of revelry, but were other times very short, followed by quick bursts of dozens of little sniffs, which rarely didn't so suddenly lead to an abrupt longer sniff or snort, where she savored my scent—that scent—in a way I never knew another person could... Then her tongue was painting my underarm, in horizontal, vertical, diagonal, and other times aimless strokes, until I felt her saliva staining my skin like sweat—and suddenly felt her spit rolling down my body, first from the one armpit, and then quickly the sweatier next, and back again, as her sniffs became licks, licks became kisses, and kisses soon were the wettest, sloppiest sucks, her mouth smacking and squelching upon my skin, until its owner was left out of breath.

"Panties off," she ordered, snapping me out of the strange stupor she left me in from this bizarre, incredibly perverse affection, so that I could notice one claw seizing me by the breast, and squeezing, while the other dug into a buttock just as hard. "Please, for the love of fuck, you slut... panties off..."

As awkward as it was to hear her begging me, I had to comply—because I had gone this far already, and if I appeased her more and more, maybe... the affection would outweigh the intimidation, if nothing else.

I pried my panties from between my slit and crack, and had them off in a trice—when, suddenly, she slid down around my legs, so that she was on her knees in front of me. She still had a hand on one of my cheeks, kneading and squeezing it, while she stole the panties from my fingers when I knew to offer them to her... I saw her face, and her features, and what she was wearing... I'll remember all of it forever, although I fear what it will do to me to even try to write them down—but, what I can't help but note... was that, maybe she was taller than me, by hardly an inch... That didn't matter, because I was larger than she was, since she had dainty little wrists, and a comparatively puny body... She even had smaller breasts... making me realize the stranger who so easily conquered me, was physically weaker than I was... despite the fact that, even after having discovered this—she was, well... almighty.

She hurriedly spread my lips with two fingers and the help of her thumb, letting go of my buttock that she might swiftly stuff my... well, admittedly lubricated hole, with my own underwear. And I felt her fingers through the fabric against my walls, as she pushed them inside—where I noticed, first by feeling, and then by confirming my suspicions with sight, that only one of her hands had nails, while the other (that is, the one she used to shove my panties up inside me, that my wetness might seep through them, and leave them, and so soon, absolutely soaked, through and through) was well trimmed, in preparation for just such an occasion.

And once my panties were inside, she spread my legs, and her face darted for my slit... She took my pussy lips in her mouth, gnawed them with her lips, parted them with her tongue, and suckled first the one, second the other, and third the both of them at once. By the time she took to tonguing all around my blossomed vulva, using her finger to stuff my panties deeper up inside my hot, steaming hole... I could feel her spittle dripping, especially off one lip, as her tongue explored me, so very thoroughly, until locating my hood, digging up thereunder, and flicking its tip at my then pounding, extremely sensitive clit—and directly at it, before mashing it with the entirety of her tongue now... her lips following as if on a timed delay, until wrapping about my hood while her tongue ravaged my clitoris, and her mouth so loudly sucked, audibly smacking in wet, lubricious friction of each and every hard, vacuum-like suction.

I got so very close, and when I thought she would make me cum on her, if I'm being honest... her, well, beautiful face—she stood, no longer kneeling, and wiped her mouth while eyeing her watch. I realized we were getting close to her stop, but she was far from done with me.

So, pulling up her skirt, she meanwhile forced me to the other side of the aisle, people clearing as to give us room, almost as if they were perfectly fine with everything that was happening... despite the fact I knew it was really only that they were too docile and afraid to keep a pretty pervert of a woman from her prey—and when I was right where she wanted me, she forced my arms upwards, until I was squeezing two dangling grips for support, my armpits exposed for her. She pulled her panties to her knees, revealing a bald mound and a slit delectable enough to envy—and, soon, she was mashing her cunt against mine, very forcefully, and grating and grinding and gyrating, throwing her hips in all directions, while cornering me with nowhere to go, as to get her pleasure, and to take it from me (even if I was... I suppose pretty receptive, even if still unconsenting, by this point)—and I felt the wetness from her lips smear across mine (she was absolutely sopping... but it seems that I was as well—a fact that made me blush, hard), as her legs tangled with mine, and her mouth alternated between kissing and sucking all over one breast, then taking to enacting similar perversions upon an armpit, before returning her face to my bust, that she might take a nipple up, either between her gnawing lips or her nibbling teeth, and pull on it as to get it even harder, when not suckling so hard it looks as though she's going to suck my entire breast into her little suction cup of a mouth.

All the while, however, whenever she would catch me staring at her, she'd push my face to the side with her hand, her palm covering my eyes—either because she was afraid I could now identify her, she simply didn't like being watched during a sexual act (the irony of our public location, if that happened to be the case), or she was so ashamed of herself, sexually, but unable to contain her ferocious libido, and I was the means whereby she could finally sake her seemingly insatiable and doubtlessly carnivorously lesbian hunger. And the more I thought about how she could be but a victim to her lust—a victim to her lust, the same as I was then and there... I started to pity her—almost empathize with her... because it felt so good, even if so unwanted—even if I didn't want women in this way, or to be wanted by women in this way... having my underarms drenched in sniffs and spit, or my nipples and breasts sucked and kissed by a feminine face... while my pubic hair had fingers wrapped up in them, my mound being tugged at, as this wet, juicing slit forced itself up against mine, sliding forwards and back, backwards and forwards again... repeatedly... until I was shaking, uncertain how this could simultaneously disgust and yet... please me.

When her lips took to my neck, decorating the one side and then the other in fervent kisses and sucks... her lips staining my skin with moisture, and the phantom limb of affectionate sensations... By that time, I went limp, unable to take anymore of such violating pleasure, no matter how ecstatic and increasingly sweet. I dangled there, letting her grind her cunt against mine as much as she wanted, and chew the underside of my chin, until those nibbles, nips, and gnaws led her to my lips, and I couldn't do anything but refuse to kiss back, hardly able to turn my head from side to side as to resist her as she left me in this sweating, delirious agony.

I came. It didn't feel good at first, but then it did, as the sudden, explosive ecstasy pulled me down under and dragged me out like undertow to sea... And I was drowning, with this strange pervert of a woman on top of me, with my legs forced agape for her, and her slit aggressively colliding and grating against my own... as mine tingled with such unbearable sensitivity that, at the height of my gasping, shaking climax, the pleasure of her against me, hurt...

And as I peaked, lost to trembling transport, I couldn't fight her lips anymore—and even though I refused to kiss back, her lips latched around my bottom lip, and sucking hard... until she suddenly bit down—not hard enough to hurt or draw blood, but just enough for me to notice... As she started shaking as well, and convulsing herself, I watched her cum... not with my eyes, because they were closed—but with my entire body, feeling her against me, as if I was able to read even the expression on her face as it was buried into my shoulder, her throes and sighs muffled as reverberations against my bare skin.

She lifted off of me, and I opened my eyes to see her panting, her chest heaving under her blouse...

But she wasn't finished with me. I staggered as she led me around by the wrist, pulling me over to her bag she'd left on the ground. She snatched it up, rummaged through it, and before I had the privilege of discerning the object she'd brandished, it disappeared inside the sopping hole at the bottom of her blossomed, lubriciously glistening slit, and I knew what it was immediately. It squished and sloshed in and out of its juicy destination, as her wrist jerked frantically, that it'd make as much noise as possible... But when I expected her to keep masturbating with her toy, she unsheathed it with a plop—

And just as soon as I could gasp, "What are you doing?" she'd long been on her knees, and had long reached back, to send me to my tiptoes as to yelp with my entire body... feeling that hard, yet well lubricated object ram itself, not into my vagina... but my butt.

A hand at my stomach forced me to lower, and I winced and yelped again, feeling my virgin hole get parted... not even by the entirety of the toy, but only just the tip—though that was enough to make me feel as if she'd stuffed me up to the helve with it, despite the fact she'd only gingerly prodded me until my then pounding, throbbing pucker would part enough for her to slip in what would've been but the head of her plastic phallus...

Her lips at my clit, the fingers of her free hand tugging on my pussy lips... her nose sniffed at my pubic hair, her eyes rolling into the back of her head as she did—something I could only notice, when my eyes weren't lost in the back of my own, as if trying to spin around to see my brain. But she sucked so hard, and expertly, that she had my asshole... well, as if gasping in ecstasy—my mouth meanwhile sighing, my every wince audible... but my pleasure just as much—so that she might plunge that toy deeper and deeper into me, in half inch increments at a time, until I felt the grip at the end prodding my rim...

I might as well have lost consciousness after that, because she turned that vibrator's knob to high, and I felt such intense vibrations roaring throughout my ass, that it could be felt all throughout my pussy, sending throbs so hard to my clitoris so good that it hurt... And I could feel her take my pounding bulb between two fingers, and pinch it to send me even farther into a rut, until I forgot my name, date of birth, and even my sexual orientation... I rocked my hips, my asshole desperate to suckle and milk that vibrator as it did infinitely more than purr inside me, the stranger fingering my clit with her cheek on my mound, that she might observe my reaction by looking up one moment, but then sniff the pussy fumes from my pubic hair the next...

My knees wobbled, suddenly closed, and that was it. I couldn't even feel my weight drop as I collapsed, though I knew I did—but only after—and only, of course, after that indescribable rapture consuming as if my every pore, rolling supernova ecstasies throughout my entire body from the inside out... specifically, from my ass and pussy—yet only to start.

But when I came to, I realized what had, apart from the vibrator, sent me over the edge: the stranger had helped me achieve my rutting inferno of a climax by slapping my slit, and hard—which she didn't stop doing, until the last of my convulsions had become quivers, and the last of my quivers had dissipated as I then laid limp in her arms, the only thing keeping me from the floor.

The toy was turned off, and slowly slid from me, even if my anal walls gripped tight and almost didn't want to let go... And I could feel my pucker, pounding in the remnants of pleasure, in throbbing sensitivity as it was left a little agape—my body, absolutely covered in sweat.

Her fingers, without delay, dug up into my cunt, and I could feel her rummage around like my pussy was her living, dripping purse... until she got a grip on my soaked underwear, and managed to pull them completely out...

My knees shaking, I barely scrambled to my feet as she, right before me, sniffed at those wet, darkened panties, before putting them, along with the toy, into her bag.

I wanted to say something, but I was still drowning in fear, and weaker now more than ever, after that hellish climax she'd put me through...

But before I could even try to muster up the courage to do anything, the doors opened, and I watched as the stranger—like the fucking bitch she truly was at heart—kick my jeans further and further from my desperate reach, until she'd kicked them off the train on her way out, disappearing into the sea of people exiting and entering and all about. And when I was at such an angle that I could see out onto the platform, and see even more people—I immediately recoiled back in shame and fear, covering my chest with one hand, my vulva with the other, before sinking back to where I had been previously standing... only my jacket and shirt left on the floor.