Night Shift

Once again it was night and once again she was alone.

The office was sinking into darkness as dense as ink. The only thing that was disrupting it was the twinkling screen of her laptop. A thick fog was covering the windows and the moonlight could hardly break through the smoke-black clouds. The moon beams were casting peculiar shadows on the floor. However, the young lady who was supporting herself on her elbow over the comfortable couch couldn't care less about them.

All one could see of her was her obscure, long and shady silhouette – long hair, long legs and fragrant cigarette smoke. Recently she had developed the habit of satisfying her nicotine addiction by rolling her own cigarettes. She was already hooked on cherry flavored tobacco and carried that compelling scent everywhere she was going, even when she wasn't smoking.

It was interwoven with the thread of her clothes.

It was stuck to her eyelids and her eyelashes were spreading it wherever she went. It felt like a specific kind of drug.

She was giving that addiction to everyone she touched with her strawberry tasting tongue.

The bittersweet saliva was spilling in a lustful way down her lips. Even though, right now she was most certainly not in the mood for cigarettes.

She closed her eyes and let the darkness take complete control over she senses. Any time she could reach out and illuminate the space around her with the tedious fluorescent light. But what she should have done that for?

Everything is much sexier in the dark.

She very much doubted that there was someone awake after midnight at the neighboring residential building.

They switched the last lights off about an hour ago.

However she wasn't burning with desire to have some late insomniac person observe her in her disheveled state as she had remained in that lingerie "for special occasions".

With her hand shamelessly shoved into the transparent, damp panties.

She tossed her head back and rested it one of the soft pillows.

Her craned neck was brought to the foreground of the dim room. She licked her lips and bit them lightly. Then the woman deprived the cigarette of its last moments of life and trampled it down at the ashtray.

She ran her available hand across the veil of her mane and used the other on to explore how deep her greedy vagina could be.

Some people were amazed at the eagerness with which she was ready to take the night shifts. They presented their reasonable arguments before her as cleverly aligned chest figures over the black and white board of daily life. You lose your normal sleeping rhythm. Your biological watch falls into a strange state of schizophrenia. Nothing could replace the night hours of sleep.

She would smile and ask them if the nighttime sleeping could possibly make up for the daytime vexation.

When can you allow yourself to relax in such a way during the light of the day? Even if you're locked behind the thick door of a private office. Can you really peel your clothes off and remain naked, real and sensitive like a bare vein? Make a mess of your place of work and desecrate it?

However, the night gives you thousands of options to dedicate yourself to forbidden pleasure at the dark corners.

At the day light she was looking at the mirror and all she could see was a tired, cut up working bee in a gray suit and smeared lipstick.

At night she was... everything she wanted.

Her fantasies could prevail.

Especially when she was lying on the couch with a fist shoved to the wrist at her flushing peach and her breasts poured with some wax from the burning candles surrounding her... who really needed the break of dawn, anyway?

She was just on the edge of her orgasm when the telephone rang.

A groan of pain escaped her lips and dragged her feet with the utmost efforts to the irksome awful piece of machinery and pulled out her hand drenched in juices.

She automatically switched on her business voice like a real actress.

There was not a hint of emotion or thrill at this tone of voice.

However, the person on the other side of the line seemed to know more. His bitter, sarcastic laughter pierced her keen hearing.

"Can you see me?"

She was startled. Her mouth suddenly got strangely dry. She looked cautiously through the window as far as she could make out something through that thick mist.

There was not even a single light switched on in the adjacent building.

She could not even see the street lanterns.

"Answer sincerely, you trickster! Otherwise I will get mad."

The fear crept up her skin like a row of predatory, flesh-feeding ants. The air in her lungs froze while she was pronouncing in a stifled whisper, not really sounding like herself.

"I... I don't see anything..."

"Good girl. Now..."

"Who are you?" she asked in an astonished way as she was slowly regaining her composure. She couldn't believe that a voice, a mere voice on the other side of the line had made her lose her balance and her wits.

"Don't ask questions. Just follow my lead."

"Mister, you obviously have got the wrong number. It is..."

"Don't play innocent, pussycat! I know who I am calling, I know all about you. You may not be able to see me but I can tell you apart perfectly from where I'm standing. You stand up, partly leaning on your desk, your body vibrates with anxiety and you can't wait to lick those sweet juices off your fist."

"Mister!" She used her voice of an indignant white-collar worker. "Should I remind you that the calls are being recorded!"

She was speaking in a firm and clipped manner but her insides were melting like a heated butter. At the same time her body was coated with cold sweat and her legs were visibly trembling with sharp, unbearable fear.

Fear... or arousal?

Sometimes the boundary between them is so thin.

"Don't play games, kitten. I'm much more experienced than you. I know exactly what are you going to do at that moment. Do yourself a favor and submit to me. You will love it, you understand it perfectly."

"Yes, in some other life!" She snapped at him with whatever strength was left inside her. "Go to hell, you disgusting pervert!"

She concentrated all of her strength in slamming the phone down. That totally shattered her balance and her legs bended under the strain. She crashed down on the floor and embraced her knees with hands. Her heart was beating so rapidly in her chest that she felt on the verge of an infarction

"What's wrong with me?" She wiped the profuse sweat off her forehead. Her hair, her lingerie, everything was drenched in her own secretions. She was hissing quietly just like the animal he has described her as. She crawled on all fours to the couch when the very same voice echoed in her head.

"Go downstairs. I'll meet you at the lobby. Don't be late."

Awesome. That's all she needed, hallucinations.

"Bullshit. You're not real. You're just in my head. And you're going to pop out of there just now!" She thrust her head between her hands as she was trying to erase the haunting messages. Her skin suddenly got hot and then she was poured over by cold waves one more time. Neither the voice would stop, nor the constant mental images flowing before her closed eyes.

He was dominant, just like that hand, which gropes you without asking for permission while you're both pressed tight together at the crowded bus.

He didn't accept any refusal.

"Even if I am not real, what difference does it make? Have you ever really cared all that much of reality? Stop with that inner struggle imitation. You know you want it."

„My common sense is not that fragile."

"I have no interest in your common sense. However, I've always been into mind-fucking. Especially those minds of uninhibited imagination."

"I can't... It's my shift, after all..." The moaning escaped her sticky, hoarse throat.

"Don't worry. Nothing's going to happen. Go down! That is not a request!"

That was insanity. She was supposed to manifest just a little bit more willpower. But they both knew she couldn't resist that delicious offer for too long.

Especially when her fantasies were provoked by the transient unknown. All she had to was to reach out and give herself to the temptation. She was walking slowly since she was barely standing on her feet.

"Yes, that's a good girl, keep on going." She didn't bother even to put on her coat. She couldn't wait to reach the meeting point as soon as possible and she was strongly hoping that some late neighbor wouldn't surprise her in the elevator.

Her pulse was running like a crazy horse, her lungs were out of air, the fear and excitement were struggling ferociously at the pit of her stomach.

Every step down the dark edge of the corridor that was leading her to her prize was so small, slow and painful.

She wanted to yell and he was laughing at her ear.

She hissed and promised herself to have her revenge at him once she got her hands on him.

Finally the elevator brought her to the cherished goal, it seemed as if it took forever.

There was no one waiting.

"Hey, where are you?" Empty landing. Even the door keeper was missing. The only response she got was the silence, the silence at her own head. The invisible echo slapped her. The wind was howling on the other side of the door, as if it was mocking her. She looked around in a state of confusion and with a budding despair at her bosom. She bit her lips so that she would not scream out of disappointment and rage. It seemed as if she has swallowed an insipid cocktail of those sentiments and that made her feel sick.

"What kind of insanity is that? I have to check my head after..."

And those were her last words because in that instant someone's hand shut her mouth open. Another hand grabbed a fistful of her hair and pulled her head back. She was forced to fall on her knees. It wasn't really all that difficult for the unfamiliar, dark figure to gain complete control over her body. The latter one was left without any will and was burning with desire. She half expected him to put a soft blindfold on her eyes. But that was hardly necessary, the darkness and her own anxiety worked just fine. All she heard was a sound of a zipper pulled down and in the next moment the phantom was already strangling her all the way to her throat with his pressing penis. She was drowning and suffocating. Her tongue instinctively began to draw letters all over his shaft. His fingernails clung tightly to her back, leaving red scars all over it. The slight, craftily caused pain drove her additionally crazy.

He had complete control over her leaking body.

He could strangle her.

He could fuck her brains off.

He could make her beg and crawl.

Entirely by his design.

And she was completely submissive, a tool in his hands.

If he wanted he could tear her apart and ravish her in the most brutal and violent way.

And that submission didn't disgust her at all.

If only her hands were free she would dig them in his ass so she could push him even further down her throat and feel his hardness. That damned anonymous ghost! Then she realized her hands were tightened up behind her back and locked in a pair of handcuffs.

Real ones.

There were no puffs on them, unlike those cheap imitation toys at the sex shops.

The saliva was dripping down her chin while he was fucking her mouth skilfully. His fingers were digging in her sweaty wet hair. He was conducting her movements as if he was really orchestrating.

Fellatio symphony. The ridiculous though passed through her frenzied brain. Suddenly he pulled her abruptly by the hair, he slapped her face a few times with his cock and made her stand up so he could taste her lips. As well as his own taste remained in her spit. His sharp nails were scratching her back quite skilfully and his teeth were leaving purple marks on her trembling neck. "Don't yell." The velvet voice didn't reveal any of the hellish arousal she could feel in his feverish gestures. "Just one sound and you'll be punished."

She had to restrain her groans somewhere deep inside her throat. That additional intensity increased the power of her sensations.

Not a word.

Not a groan.

Not even a light sigh.

Once again he grabbed her by the hair, he turned her with her face to the wall and pressed her cheek to the cold metal surface.

His experienced fingers deftly studied her peach and rubbed her swollen clit. The sweet, wet cave opened its doors in order to accept everything that was offered to it.

The filthy words were hanging on the tip of her tongue.

If the moans and the screams were living beings they would long to tear off her chest and relieve the pressure for her.

But she was controlling them.

She felt his face go down between her raised ass cheeks and she parted her thigh even wider so she could give him a full access. He was good. He touched all of her sensitive spots as if he has licked her pussy for years. Such a calculated, mathematical orgasm... it has never happened to her before.

He knew exactly what he was doing and he knew how achieve full effect on her.

A few times her legs could hardly bear the pressure of the pleasure she experienced.

However, it was not her first time in the submission games so she resisted.

She felt the clamps on her nipples, the sharp stinging sensation and the sudden pain together with his penetration.

He shoved his fingers in her mouth so he would relieve the screams that were about to leap out. He positioned his cock inside her and began to fuck her in fast thrusts while his teeth dug in her tender skin. The stranger was licking and biting her flesh that had turned purple because of his endearments. He possessed the fierceness of a hungry wolf and the tenderness of a petting cat. His fingers were pressing the burning clamps of the red and painful nipples.

For a moment it seemed as if she was seeing white light before her eyes.

The nails, the teeth and the cock that was ravishing her completely sent her over the edge and she rested, helpless as a puppet after cumming for the second time.

She heard the switch of the key and her hands were released of the handcuffs' iron grip. It seemed as if her limbs weren't hers – stiff and somehow moving independently of her body.

He didn't leave her any time for relaxation because once again he crammed his penis in her mouth. He ordered her to used her hand. This time her submission felt a bit mechanic and tired.

It didn't take a long time before she felt the bitter, white liquid flow down her chin and pour inside her mouth and throat. She choked on the fluids but she pulled herself together and swallowed it all.

She loved bitter substances.

She was also thirsty for the feel of his orgasm after it was not possible to see the pleasure reflected in his eyes.

She drank every single drop of his cum.

She remained on her knees, her head was raised and her eyes were intensely fixed at the darkness in front of her. She couldn't distinguish anything besides his shady silhouette.

Two shadows who fuck and cum together in the fog.

He caressed her forehead and closed her tired, trembling eyelids.

Then he leaned down and kissed her mouth deeply.

Obviously the stranger enjoyed feeling his own taste over someone else's flesh.

No matter how exhausted she was by all that insanity she felt as if a lightning struck her at that kiss.

He helped her up on her feet with an unexpectedly chivalrous gesture. Then he silently lit a cigarette and handed it to her. She tried to make out his facial features when the lighter illuminated his face for a flickering moment. However, that instant went by way too quickly.

They were standing in a perfect tranquility for a few minutes while they were smoking.

Finally he gave her one small last kiss on the lips and turned his footsteps to the building's emergency exit.

"Won't you at least tell me who you are?" She shouted after him.

"And spoil that divine anonymity?" His thought struck her.

And his shadow got lost in the fog.

***

She was entitled to a few days off after that night shift.

When she came back to work she was still wearing a silk scarf around her neck since the scars on it were definitely difficult to erase.

She didn't regret them, though.

Nobody suspected a thing.

Only one of her more shrewd co-workers pulled her scarf down without warning her and winked as she saw the cute little purple shades.

As for her, while she was traveling at the elevator she kept on staring at the face of everyone who worked or lived at the building so she could find her anonymous visitor.

In vain. Even if he was among those people he never revealed himself.

All that was left for her was a memory at the long night of cherry tobacco and sweet carnal familiarization.