The Girl From The Train

It began as a pull between my loins, something I had never felt before, a craving, making me way too excited. She must have felt something had changed, for she looked at me and, grinning, came all the way in me, hurting me as hell. I cried, but she grabbed on my hips and just pulled me onto her cock, leaving me breathless, not moving.

"- Stay still," she ordered, "You'll get used to it, it'll pass."

But it didn't, and as I stayed there, focusing on this hot pain, she softened up somewhat. She told me not to worry, that she knew, that I was a good boy, an obedient boy, that I was up to it, that she knew, she kissed my face and, slowly, gently, started to move her hips, and the thing started sliding inside me. Unless now it didn't hurt, or at least, not only.

I started moaning, feeling how it filled exactly the craving I had felt. I must have smiled, for she released her grip on me and let me get comfortable, moving my basin as she moved hers. I grabbed her hips and followed her rhythm, excited as I was, and she started touching me again. She grabbed my penis and softly stroking it, as she came and went into me. I could see her beautiful chest moving as she did me, and her eyes look straight into mine, increasingly aroused. I was now moaning loudly and she smiled at that.

She turned me around after a while, and lifted my hips at the proper angle, letting me stuff my face in a pillow while she was pounding me faster and faster, still holding my cock between her strong fingers. I felt a slap on my butt cheek, and it was not a gentle one. As I spontaneously raised my head, she pushed me back down, relentlessly, and highlighted her push with a mean stroke of her hips, which hurt me and made me moan at the same time.

She slapped me again, and again, holding me down, telling me to lift my ass for my punishment, that I was a little slut who deserved a good spanking and wanted it. I obeyed, of course, feeling tears at the corners of my eyes but not resisting. After ten or fifteen minutes of that treatment, I was sweaty and softened, moving to follow her lead, enjoying the occasional slaps and demanding more. That's when she decided to spice things up a notch.

She stopped and went to lay on her back, half-seating, resting on pillows. I stayed where I was, catching my breath. She grabbed her second dildo, and gestured me to crawl closer. I obeyed and came to face her, but she grabbed my head and forcefully pushed it down onto the glassy thing.

She didn't have time for foreplay and made me deep-throat it suddenly, despite my gags and my -- I must admit, rather pathetic -- attempt at resisting. The thing fit rather nicely between my lips and after the initial shock I was willingly sliding it up and down my throat, while she slowly moved her hips to increase the effect on her own body. I could smell her wetness and hear her panting, and feel her satisfied look upon my head as she gently stroked my curls to encourage me to please her some more.

She came again a few times, moaning my name, before making me stop.

"- You're enjoying this almost as much as me, little slut," she complimented as I was licking the drool I had left all over the dildo, and kissing it, "we'll make a good slut of you yet, but first, you know what you have to do."

Pulling me by the hair, she made me crawl over and ride her. I moaned and complained, because I felt I had to but also because I was genuinely scared of what she had said. But she didn't really care as she impaled me on her bigger-than-average toy.

I felt pain and pleasure in equal measure. She had grabbed my hips and made them go down on her shaft with ease, it being covered in my wet mouth's saliva. She groaned of satisfaction as my eyes widened under her assault. It was much more intense than before, and once again I tried resisting. Once again, she did not give a damn. I could see her face twitching from the pleasure she was taking from seeing me humiliated like this and from the dildo moving inside us both.

"- Oh yeah," she hissed, which sounded like a celebration while I closed my eyes and felt all the muscle inside me fainting. I rested my palms on her breasts as she imposed the rhythm of our lovemaking, sliding into me with rage now. I was crying, and my tears fell on my hands and on her boobs, but she didn't care. On the contrary, I felt like she loved it, knowing that I was taking so much from her, for her.

She called me her baby doll, her toy, her pet, she slapped my ass with savagery and made me beg for more, she made me move my hips with sensuality, her big cock sliding into my now wet and welcoming hole, she grabbed me by the neck while she was going into me fast and strong, while I grabbed onto her shoulders, powerless.

She made me come once, and I covered both our tummies in cum. At first I was afraid she might be angry about it, but she merely grabbed a bit of my white fluids that had fallen onto her cheek and, kindly, slid her dirtied thumb between my lips. I swallowed it all without even realising the taste. She too came, one, twice, maybe more, until we both fell, exhausted, she, still inside me, and me, dazzled.

We slept like this for maybe an hour before she woke me. She had extracted herself from under me and let me sleep with her glass cock still inside me. She was now wearing her biggest "friend," casually, as though it had always been there. She patted me gently and smiled:

"- Feeling good, baby slut?"

- You're so rough... you're like a queen..." I moaned, taking her toy outside of me.

- And we're not even at the main event, baby doll," she smiled. "But before all I want you all pretty for it, don't move."

She took out a little makeup box and, without a word, began spreading powders and rouge on me:

"- I'm just a sucker for a pretty boy with a smoky gaze..." she said, putting way too much eyeliner onto me, "especially if it turns into black tears, if you know what I mean!," she giggled.

I felt pretty. I wanted to be pretty for her. Seconds later, she was spreading a deep, dark, rouge onto my lips. Minutes later, she was telling me how it made me look dashing with a cock between my lips.

I was on my back again. My legs were spread broadly and I was holding on to her ass, feeling it come and go, pulling it closer when it came, begging for it to come back when it went. I was used to her monster cock now, I had no choice after all. She had spread almost an entire bottle of lube onto it, adding some as she gradually overcame all my defences, until she was all the way inside me.

I had struggled, but she had made me stay. I had tried to go, but she had just cuffed me. I had screamed, but she had gagged me. I had cried, cried a lot, and she had just said black tears did look dashing on me. And then, I had surrendered, and enjoyed, enjoyed her overcoming my body with ease, enjoyed her hips sliding smoothly and enjoyed feeling so full, so stuffed, so perfectly adequate.

She had made me ride again, and that was when the orgasms started. Plural. They came like waves, from my total abandonment of any form of pride, from my accepted sluttiness, and from the enormous cock she was banging me with, grinning.

She had not lied when she had said she liked submission: without warning, as I was noisily moaning from another wave of pleasure, she had bitch slapped me, ordering me to stay silent as she accelerated the rhythm. I didn't care, I was hers anyway, her little slut boy. She had come to, once, twice, thrice, and we had stopped counting. I was completely powerless, submitted, and converted. She saw surrender in my face, choking me and fucking me, and she liked seeing it. With the last of her incredible energy, she made me come once more, while she was leaning heavily on me, enjoying her own last orgasm.

We must have slept through the weekend, waking up dazzled, not knowing what time it was, only to start fucking again. She also cooked for me occasionally, for I needed my energy, but even then, she didn't let me be without shoving another plug into me. For dessert, she always demanded that I gave a blowjob to yet another of her apparently infinite collection of strapless dildos, making me take selfies or taking pictures herself while I was at it. But she always fucked me with the biggest one.

She made me dress up and play, always in a weaker position: once, I was an employee, eager to please his boss, another time, she made me a pirate princess, whose boat had just been captured by a buccaneer queen, later I was a dancer, desperate for money. She made me wear chokers, settling for a discreet, black one she gave me as a gift, and once the weekend was over, she took me to the tube station.

I have seen her again almost once a week since then. She likes me, and I do too. She makes me feel sexy and fulfilled. She fucks me like a queen, and I never feel awkward with her. She sometimes makes me do other things, like dance or give blowjob to men she calls her friends. But she always makes me feel special, even when, dressed and wearing makeup, I spread my pretty rouge all over her best mate's enormous cock. "I love this lil' swallower," she once told him as I was struggling not to spread his cum all over the couch.

And I love her too.