You Took Advantage of Me

London. 1929.

Ada stepped out of the nightclub and onto the street. The air was filled with the warmth of the city in midsummer and so, despite the early hour of the morning, she felt no need to don her bolero.

Her evening had been spent, as so many of them were in the madness of youth and freedom, dancing and drinking.

That terrible war had ceased almost a decade ago; replaced by an explosion of life and love and laughter, and young women like Ada - now emancipated by parliament and the political equals to men - stood on the cusp of a new age of womanhood; fearless, indomitable, liberated.

The world - and the pleasures it offered - were hers for the taking, and she lived free and unfettered by the shame and repression suffered in former years.

Ada moved slowly down the street, a little unsteady as the champagne from the evening continued to roll and reel in her head.

Her dress, shortened to above the knees in the style of the age, hung free and easy on her body as she walked, her dancing heels clicking on the paving stones.

As she walked, she glanced up at the clear sky and a smile of association touched her lips. In an instant, the music of the nightclub came flooding back and she began to hum Crosby's 'Get Out & Get Under the Moon' to the pale, silver disc that illuminated her way.

And as she walked, she became aware of the noise behind her. It was the clicking of metal on the street; a twin to the heels of her buckled shoes.

Ada stopped briefly and turned to look. She had expected to see a fellow young woman but saw instead the well-dressed gentleman moving steadily toward her.

His face was shaded by the brim of his hat, but Ada recognised the fine cut of his evening clothes. She had danced with him in the nightclub some hours before, one of many men she'd danced with.

There, in the frenzied heat, she'd found him interesting, but swept up by the gaiety of the evening they'd danced awhile then parted ways. He'd seemed a little disappointed at the parting, but chivalrous about it and she'd seen nothing of him for the rest of the evening.

Now he walked toward her, the metal tip of his evening cane clicking on the pavement.

"Good evening, sir," said Ada cordially as he approached.

"Good morning, miss," he corrected, raising his hat and giving her a smile. "I heard you humming Crosby. Beautiful little tune, isn't it?"

She nodded silently, politeness dictating she answer the question but tiredness dissuading her from engaging in conversation.

In the nightclub she'd found him interesting but here, on the street in the early hours, the polite conversation was simply a barrier to her reaching her flat and collapsing into bed and a well-deserved rest.

"I love Crosby," smiled the man. "I know most of his records. Going home?"

Ada gave another nod. "Going home," she repeated.

"Alone?" came the question.

"Alone," came the firm repetition.

The man stood quietly for a moment. The warm summer breeze ruffled Ada's dress and she suddenly felt her nipples begin to harden beneath the thin fabric. He'd noticed them too. His eyes ran hungrily over her body for a moment, then he flicked them back to meet her firm, defiant gaze.

"May I escort you?" he asked, smiling warmly

Ada paused for a moment, then she shook her head. "No," she replied. "Thank you, but I live very close." A pause. "Goodnight."

There was another pause whilst he stole a final glance at her body, then replaced his hat. "Goodnight then," he said politely. Then he turned and walked away, whistling Crosby's 'Don't Somebody Need Somebody' as he went.

Ada watched him go and was suddenly aware that her heart had quickened during their brief meeting. Had he just wanted to escort her, or had there been another motive? Had the hour been earlier, and her mood different, she might have accepted his offer, indeed she might have tempted him into her flat once they reached it, but her body was fatigued from the dancing and her brain fogged from the drink.

She felt her pulse slow as she watched the dapper figure walk further down the street, his cane clicking rhythmically as the whistled tune echoed from the houses.

A little way along the street she turned into a side-road. It was a thin passage that ran along the back of the nearby shops; railings along one side and a hard stone wall on the other. It was unlit, and by no means an ideal thoroughfare, but was at least a quiet shortcut.

Besides, she preferred not to continue along the main street and so give the man the idea she was pursuing him.

As she neared the other end of the side-road she heard a whistle up ahead. The sound grew louder and, a few steps on, a dark figure stepped around the corner, blocking her passage.

Though silhouetted by the lamplight behind, the figure was unmistakable.

The man with the hat and cane paused a moment, then began to walk slowly toward her, his tuneful whistle now recognisable as Crosby's 'I've Got the Girl'.

Ada felt her heart jump suddenly and she slowed her pace, then stopped dead.

"Good morning again," she said defiantly as he approached. "I still don't need escorting."

The whistling came to an abrupt halt and he smiled a wolfish smile. "But you do need attending to, don't you?" he asked, his eyes running hungrily over her thin dress.

Ada felt a sudden wave of adrenalin surge through her body, prickling the skin and shaking her from the fog of the alcohol.

She made to push past him along the street, but there was a sudden rush of movement as his cane swung through the air and came to rest on the railings with a dull clang, barring her exit.

"What do you want?" she demanded.

He stepped closer, his eyes glittering beneath the shade of his hat.

"To attend to you, miss," he repeated politely. "You're quite the Sheba."

It was a compliment Ada might have basked under in the gaiety and abandon of the nightclub but here, in a dark side-street in the early hours, the word took on a domineering, predatory tone.

Ada felt her heart sink, even as she squared her jaw and stared back at him.

"I'll scream," she warned.

He was silent for a moment as he considered the threat, his eyes running over her body. She felt his stare penetrating the thin fabric and was suddenly aware of her nipples hardening beneath the fabric.

"No, you won't," he assured her. "You want a good seeing to, don't you?" It had been a statement, not a question.

"I'm going home, sir," she said firmly, trying to ignore the tingle of shameful desire.

Ada turned sharply and made to walk back along the street but there was a second rush of air and the cane came whipping around her chest from behind and pulling her suddenly back.

He was standing behind her now, an arm on each side as he firmly grasped the shaft of the cane that held her tightly caged to his body.

She felt the steady breathing of him on the back of her neck, the muscular trunk of his body behind hers, and the familiar throbbing bulge as it pressed between her buttocks.

"You're going nowhere, whore," he growled. All pretence of good manners vanished.

"I'll scream," she repeated, weaker than before and with less conviction.

Then she felt him lean in against the side of her head and heard his steady, hot breath beside her ear.

"Alright," he whispered. "I promise that if you scream, I'll stop."

Ada let out an involuntary gasp as he spoke. The side-road was dark and secluded, but only a few yards away it gave out onto the wider, lamp-lit streets.

She had only to scream, she was sure, and somebody would hear her. Her mouth opened and closed but no sound came forth; something in her body revolted against the desire to flee.

She felt the pressure in her chest lighten as he loosened his grip, then began to move the cane slowly up and down over her breasts.

Every time the shaft swept over her nipples she felt a bolt of electricity course through her body, delighting and disgusting her all at once.

"You only have to scream," he whispered. "And you can stop this."

She felt disgusted with herself for enduring this treatment, yet something about it kept her from crying out or running. Perhaps he had lied about letting her go, perhaps he would be too quick for her if she ran.

A few moments more and the cane fell away in one hand whilst his other slid over her breast and up toward her bare neck. His fingers teased her flesh for a moment, then the hand slid back down, under the dress now, and so over her naked breast.

Ada gave a small gasp at his touch and felt herself getting wetter.

At the same time, his left hand come back around her body and moved the cane between her legs. Slowly, tantalisingly, he slid the firm shaft up the inside of one leg, raising her dress as it reached her thighs.

She wanted to recoil instinctively from the touch of the wooden invader, but his body - huge and immoveable - remained firmly behind hers, barring her way.

"You like that, don't you?" he snarled. "Filthy bitch."

His hand still freely roamed and explored her breasts beneath the dress as the cane worked its way ever upward until it came to rest at the thin fabric of her underwear. She felt herself get wetter as the cane pressed gently at her lips, pushing her body back into the throbbing bulge of his manhood.

For what seemed like an eternity he held her there, between cane and crotch, as he teased her breasts and breathed foul insults in her ear.

Then he increased the pressure and pace, the hard wooden shaft pushing against her clit and forcing her back against his erection.

Her breathing came heavier now, matching his, and his free hand left her breast and slid upwards to encircle her throat.

Applying just enough force, he tipped her head back onto his shoulder until she stared up between the dark buildings at the silvery moon.

Her lips parted and gaped as he kept up the pressure and Ada felt the first stirrings of an orgasm. She felt intensely ashamed, yet excited by that shame as this stranger played with her in the dark seclusion of the side-road, his hand about her throat whilst the shaft of his cane slid back and forth between her lips, rubbing her pussy and clit with her own underwear.

She felt him throbbing harder now and was suddenly aware that his breathing was matched with hers, that his pleasure was echoed by her degradation, and that knowledge drove her ever further into depravity.

Her orgasm, when it came, erupted like a volcano. Waves of exploding warmth radiated out through her body and her nipples throbbed and pulsed.

She clapped a hand to her mouth to keep herself from crying out, then rode a second wave as she realised she had done it to prevent herself from screaming and so ending the encounter.

At that moment she understood she was entirely his; wanton and desperate to please him.

He understood it too, and let out a low chuckle as he removed the cane and released his grip on her throat.

"Turn around whore," he commanded.

She turned to face him, a dishevelled mess as the last bolts of her orgasm still ran through her body.

"Your face is smudged," he observed with a smirk. "You have one of those new lipsticks?"

Ada nodded and reached into her bag to withdraw the metal tube.

He watched her raise it to her lips, then reached forward and took the object forcibly.

"Allow me," he said with mock politeness.

Then, setting his cane aside, he reached up and held her lower jaw with his free hand.

"Open," he ordered.

Ada opened her lips.

The stranger pushed the ruby end of the lipstick from the tube and drew a wide, red circle inexpertly over her lips.

"A perfect 'O'," said approvingly. "And now you're going to please me," he said, finally releasing her jaw. "On your knees. And keep that 'O' open wide."

Ada sunk to her knees on the street. He loomed above her, a dark, commanding shape, as she looked up at him in submission.

She heard the unbuckling of his belt, then gave a yelp as he grabbed a fistful of her hair and wrenched her head down.

His cock throbbed as he fed it slowly through the inviting red 'O' of her lips and Ada felt a spasm in her pussy as he slid over her tongue.

Instinctively, she closed her lips around the invader and - at his command - began to suck. His hand still grasping her hair, he began to move Ada's head slowly back and forth on his shaft.

He gave a sigh of satisfaction and leaned his head back to look up at the skies. "Ugh, that's a good girl," he groaned. "You like sucking that cock, don't you?"

Ada tried to remain silent but found herself give an involuntary moan. This man who had made her cum with his cane, this stranger who had made a target of her mouth in her own lipstick, was now in complete control and whilst she considered herself an equal to men she felt, here and now, like a piece of meat to be used and violated.

And as her mind recoiled in horror at her body's betrayal, she felt herself getting wetter and the stirrings of another orgasm begin to boil deep within.

Almost as though he were attuned to her inmost desires, the stranger spoke again. "Touch yourself, whore, " he commanded. "Play with yourself whilst you suck."

Ada moved a hand down to rub at her pussy but there was a sharp crack as his cane swept the hand away. "No!" he snapped. "That place belongs to me. You play with your nipples."

Ada gave an agonised moan - half from the crack of the cane on her hand, half from the frustration of not being able to bring herself to an orgasm for him - then she moved both hands up and began to gently circle her own nipples, moaning again on his cock as she did so.

Delighted with the performance, the man gave a deep sigh. He gripped Ada's hair tightly and increased the pace of the blowjob as his cock began to throb and pulse in her mouth. Ada, her fingers teasing her erect nipples, began to moan uncontrollably as she sucked; her mouth impossibly full and her pussy desperately empty.

Then her eyes suddenly widened as she felt the inverted cane between her legs. He pushed it forward onto her soaking panties, then pulled upward so the shaft rubbed along her clit whilst the curled handle - prevented only by the thin patch of sodden material - pushed with delicious frustration into her entrance.

She increased the pace on her nipples as she felt him swelling on her tongue. Her moans now had turned to animalistic whimpering, in perfect rhythm with the pumping of his cock in her mouth and with the tugging and teasing of his cane at her pussy.

She bucked her hips forward to rub herself harder against the shaft as she approached orgasm and heard him laugh.

"Look at you," he chuckled. "Cock in your kisser, cane at your cunt. Filthy little bitch wants to cum again?"

Ada, her mouth stuffed with his cock, moaned in response, then gave a sudden yelp as he wrenched her head back and dragged her by the hair to her feet.

"Then let's give you a proper cane," he snapped. "Against the wall, filth!"

Still holding her hair, he wrenched her around and pushed her forward. Instinctively, Ada put her hands out to support herself as she collided with the wall, her mind a mixture of fury and frustration.

"Bend!" came the second command. Her heart pounded in her chest as she did as she was told, bending down before him with her hands stretched out on the bricks.

She felt rough hands raising her dress to her waist, then drag down the sodden panties to her ankles. The warm morning air brushed against her excited pussy as she stood, bent over and exposed for his pleasure.

A moment later Ada gave a gasp as she felt the head of his cock at her pussy, her dripping lips parting easily to allow him entry.

He held her there for a moment as she stood, waiting to be taken.

"Please," she whimpered.

"Whores don't speak," he admonished. Then he reached forward and she saw the shaft of his cane, held at either end, come down over her head to her mouth.

"Bite," came the command.

She opened her mouth wide as the shaft was placed between her teeth, like a horse's bit, then she gave a squeal when he pulled back on the cane as he plunged himself deep inside her.

The fucking did not last long, but was hard and furious. The man hammered into her sodden pussy as he rode her, bit between her teeth like an animal whilst Ada, still boiling from the pleasures he'd subjected her to on the ground, writhed against the wall as he pounded into her body.

Moments later, her pussy exploded into fire and Ada bucked and writhed against his cock. She felt him swell to an enormous size, then he gave a grunt and flooded her quivering pussy.

They stood for what seemed like hours against that wall. Him grunting as the last spurts of his seed pulsed inside her, her panting hard against the cane still between her teeth.

"There's a good girl," he said finally, removing the cane from her mouth and stepping back. Freed from the forceful cage of him, Ada crumpled into a sodden heap on the floor. Her mouth drew in great gulps of air as she sat there, his cum leaking from her pussy.

He pulled up his trousers and adjusted himself as he looked down at her, attending to his sartorial elegance with as much enjoyment as he took in seeing her submission, then he gave a snigger and turned away.

Collapsed on the street, used and violated, Ada listened to him go. She heard his cane clicking along the street as he went, and could clearly make out the whistled notes of Crosby's 'You Took Advantage of Me'.