They meed in the food court. They eat and make polite small talk. Afterwards, he takes leads her into the service corridor where her heels echo like like the ticking of some giant clock counting down to her defilement. Suddenly he stops outside the men’s washroom. She’s just about to let her guard down when suddenly there’s a hand on her elbow and she’s being pushed inside!
The lighting is stark and unfriendly on the beige tile work. The colors are grey and urinals just seem… alien. Not to mention disgusting. He pauses and looks at them thoughtfully. Her mind to flash images of being tied there, used, fucked on the counter – and he continues on, taking her to and then through the last door, the handicap stall.
His voice is soft, quiet, and deep. “Face the wall. Hands up. Did you follow my instructions?”
“Y-yes. Sir. black platform heels, seamed stay-up stockings, long coat, earings, collar, no makeup.”
“Really… then what’s this purse doing here?”
She squeaks but knows better than to turn around. “I didn’t think – I did it out of habit!”
“Is that your justification, you’re a mindless robot? Try again.”
“You didn’t say I couldn’t carry anything?”
“Hmm… well, technically I suppose that’s true.”
She feels him standing behind her, feels his hips pressing into hers. She is at once terrified of discovery, excited by her nudity, and proud of the hard bulge pressed into the cleft of her ass. Slowly, inexorably, he undoes her buttons. 1, 2, 3, 4, 5, 6. “Lower your hands.” She does, and he hangs the coat and purse on door hook. “Resume the position.” He coos and murmurs words of approval as his hands trace up her legs, over her buttocks, nails dragging gently up her back… One hand grips her hair and pulls back hard and she stifles a moan as the other hand around and down, down, down to her core and rubs her gently. Suddenly she realizes that she’s rocking her hips and tilting her pelvis. Her body cries More, more! but she knows, her body is a traitor and he knows how to read it like an open book. Why isn’t her blush setting off the fire alarm? Stop moving, stop grinding, just hold still and maybe this time he’ll go to far and give her -
The hands pull away. She bites her lip and screams inside. It’s so unfair! It was just a purse! It was -
His hands are on her hips again, but now she can tell something’s different. Something hard. Something lubed. Something pressing into her ass. Her head drops and her mouth opens as her sphincter is violated. Her legs turn to jelly. Reality collapses into distinct points: the tile pressed against her hands and moist forehead, her aching nipples, her aching center, and the terrible, wonderful stuffed feeling. Still he presses onward. He knows it hurts, knows he should back out, lube more, take his time but time is against them and this is not for pleasure of the flesh, this is an exercise in control. Surely this, THIS is her punishment. Tears well up in her eyes and she gasps as he finally bottoms out, balls pressing against her vulva. He leans over and down until she can feel his breath on the back of her neck. For a moment, they are motionless, an epic tableau of pornography, and then he says one word.
“Cum.”
The universe explodes in waves, the stars give birth, creatures crawl from the sea. They pet black alien monoliths, invent fire, discover love and then she is back in her own body and moaning into his hand. She can feel him smile behind her. “Careful, now.” As gently as he can, he extracts himself and removes the now spent condom. Gently she cleans him with a moist towlette from her purse. Their eyes meet and she smiles. She’s thinking “aren’t you glad I brought my purse now?” but he misconstrues it as “What have you got planned next, big boy?”.
“Up against the wall again.” Eagerly, she complies. Her punishment is at an end, now the fun can start! “Close your eyes. When I go out this door, count to forty – slowly – then open your eyes and come find me just outside the washroom. Don’t clean yourself until you get back to work.” “Yessir.”
His clothes rustle as he tucks himself in. The door lock chik-chaks. He washes his hands and gets paper towel. He says “Oh! Sorry. You first,” to someone coming in, and then he’s gone and she’s only up to 26. It occurs to her that she’s in a men’s washroom in a pose that screams “hungry slut free for all” and the stall door is unlocked. 28. 29. 30. Never has the sound of a man grunting and urinating ever sounded so good. Calmly she counts off the last 10, then opens her eyes and turns around.
That son of a bitch!
The coathook is empty.
from http://szymon.tumblr.com/
