~~~***~~~
I
t was a shabby
little parking lot, with a line of cheap bulbs strung from a cable fixed atop polls
set in the ground to mark its gloomy boundary. By the entrance, an empty payment
shack stood, its Plexiglas window covered in harsh graffiti. The door to this
cabin was held closed by a mere padlock. Above that, a curled tin lamp fixture
illumined a small grim spot below, exposing cracked and oil stained pavement. Only
a few old cars were in residence, speckled about like sparse vegetation on a
desert plain.
Jessie stood at the entrance
too nervous to step in yet unwilling to leave. Smoking a roach, she tugged at a
red velvet neckband worn just for this occasion, then bit the nail until it was
a stubby mess. She let out a quiet sigh and flicked the last of that funny
cigarette into the lot. Upon hitting the ground, a small shower of satisfying sparks
erupted.
What the fuck am I doing here? She thought, angry with herself
for being so stupid. But she knew what she was doing there, she just didn’t
like the answer to that question. It was too distressing to contemplate.
I should go, she told herself.
Now!
Yet the girl didn't
turn around and face the opposite way. Her legs didn’t shuffle toward the other
direction. Instead, she just stood there, in a mild marijuana haze, watching
the last remnants of red fade from that dying cherry. Then, as if beyond
decision, she smoothed down her skirt, strode inside, and it was as if she had
known all along that she would.
Ambling around the
shack, Jessie lazily wondered what kind of creature would consent to work in such
a miserable place. Peeking inside the window, she saw photographs of nude women
ripped from old porno magazines and tacked to the walls. Tame by Internet
standards, it only made the sight that much more depressing. Is that what’s
meant by generational divide? Disgusted, she backed away and turned her
attention elsewhere.
Little things on the
ground loomed at her; a cigarette butt here, a rusty beer can there. Meandering
about the lot, she came upon the grimy carcass of an old car, stripped of tires.
It wasn’t very interesting. Turning to look back at the entrance, where only
moments before she had stood, Jessie considered the pornographic posters in
that shack. Then she noticed her hands trembling and heart rapidly pounding. Her
belly clenched and to distract herself, she began nibbling at another nail. Its
cuticle was soon sheared from her finger.
I've got the get the fuck out of here!
Hyperventilating, panic
overtook her senses. Manic thoughts raced by. She hunched over, hands to knees,
expecting to vomit.
What if he has a knife? What if he has a gun?
And then, the worst
fear of all.
What if he rapes me?
Hand to mouth stifled
the impulse to puke and she stood upright to bolt away. All this was too much
to handle. She had to flee. Yet, the open entrance paradoxically seemed to
block her way. What if he arrived just as she crossed onto the sidewalk? Jessie
glanced around its border, searching for another egress of escape. Filthy steel
barriers obstructed the perimeter. She could scramble over them, but then what
of her skirt?
Maybe I want him to rape me. A truly disgusting notion.
That thought had been
too much to bear. She had to leave. Which is good, because though she had put
herself in this crazy situation at least now she’d get out. Alive! Survival
instincts had finally resurfaced. Like being paralyzed in a dream, that first
step forward breaks the spell. So she strode toward the entrance and began that
short trek to freedom. It would only take seconds and once on the sidewalk she
could walk away as if nothing had happened. Or run. Running might be the
smarter move.
Then, rumbling and
wheels crushing gravel and bright headlights emerged, a car turning into the
lot. Those beams disoriented her. She stopped, a pit in her stomach tumbling
downward, as she gawked at those twin bulbs coming in. Resignation and dread
swooned dizzyingly. She’d have no chance to run after all. But didn’t she deserve
this? Like a cow to slaughter, she’d come here of her own free will. It was
kind of sexy in a sick way.
Jessie’s nipples
pressed out from her white cotton blouse, embossed on that cloth like impressions
on a wax figure. Her heart pounded; her cheeks flushed; her hands trembled; and
her breath rasped in short, rapid, heaves. The straps to her purse slid off her
shoulder and it fell. She hadn’t noticed it plop to the ground, yet an image of
that bag, slumped over on the pavement, seemed ominously prophetic.
Maybe that’s how
they’ll find her. In a pool of blood, collapsed in the muck, naked and used.
The latest cast off by a deranged serial killer. Her ID was in there. Well, she
reasoned, when the police eventually find her mangled body, at least they’d know
who it was that had been left to rot in this sorry place.
But there was a
catch. She’d also put that single dollar he’d demanded in a special pocket just
for him. And he’d want that. Of course the creep would dig through that
pocketbook afterward. So, if he took the dollar, why not her ID too? He might then
sever her hands, feet, and head to throw off forensics. Lunatic murderers do
that sort of thing all the time. Don’t they? She’d seen it on TV.
Please God, let me live!
It seemed too morbid
a thought. Isn’t this a bit melodramatic? Her eyes remained fixed downward, examining
that purse; considering a list of dwindling options. Glancing up, those
blinding headlights prevented her from seeing through into the front window. She’d
like to know the face of her killer to be.
Then the engine
stopped. And in that assault of silence, her belly plummeted like the first big
drop on a roller coaster. Jessie loved that stupid amusement park ride. So she
steeled herself with gritted teeth behind a warped little grin for what might follow.
~~~***~~~
I
t had all seemed
like a bit of kinky Internet fun. Well, maybe it had begun before the ‘net
farce with el creepo. Perhaps it had started a year prior, when she’d had that
short relationship with Adam. He was older, in his early thirties, still young
and hot but experienced enough to take her places in the sexual landscape she
hadn’t imagined possible. The very first time, he’d tied her wrists to his
bedpost with a silk kerchief. And, though scared, she’d let him do it. In fact,
it was the fear she’d found most alluring. Those intense orgasms he gave were
almost beside the point. But then, after only a few weeks of crazy sex, his
employer transferred him to another city and he was gone.
They’d promised to
keep in touch. He’d see her on business trips. Perhaps she could move. But then
he stopped calling and she’d received an email saying he’d met someone. You’re
young, he’d explained. You’ll meet many more men. But she didn’t. Instead,
there had been a string of illicit one-night encounters with mere boys met at
parties and bars. They’d not known how to satisfy her unique lusts.
Jessie’s latest
encounter had been like the rest. At work, there was this cute guy who kept
coming in for morning cappuccino. He sold computers in the mall. Her friend,
Nancy, who worked at a lingerie store, had dug around and discovered his name.
Benjamin, as it turns out. Not that it mattered, because Jessie had made an
absolute fool of herself.
Hi, she’d said,
frothing milk. Hey, he replied and then asked for a little more chocolate
please.
“It’s in the back
closet,” she said, gazing into his eyes.
He cluelessly
returned the stare and didn’t seem to understand. So she turned off the
frother, set down the milk, and leaned over the counter to get close.
“Come with me,” she
whispered.
“You need me to help
you get chocolate?”
“I. Uh,” Jessie
paused. “No, of course not.”
She’d not needed to
restock chocolate out front, but after saying that it seemed impossible not to
go. So she rushed to the back anyway, cheeks flushed red in embarrassment.
“There’s a line!”
Marvin, her dork of a co-worker called.
She ignored him, went
in, and sat on a milk crate with both hands to her face. A light knock came at
the door and Jessie pushed it ajar to peek through the opening, expecting
Marvin’s bitchy complaint. But, to her surprise, it was Benjamin knocking.
“What’s going on?” He
asked.
“It’s just that…” Her
words trailed off and she peered up through bangs of dirty blond hair flowing
down over her eyes. And there was that fear, that delicious nervous expectation.
It was now or never. But he still had no idea.
“Yes?”
“I want to suck your
cock,” she replied, matter of factly.
“What?”
“Get in here,” Jessie
said, yanking him in the closet.
She shut the door and
fell to her knees. The ceramic tiles on the floor were hard and uncomfortable,
which added an illicit thrill. She wrapped her arms around him, untucked his
shirt from behind, and stroked lovely bare skin along his back. The crotch of
his chinos was at her mouth, and she gazed up to his face. His eyes bulged, and
he looked back down, trapped by indecision.
“I,” he said,
hesitating. “I have a girlfriend.”
“I don’t care,”
Jessie replied, and pressed her cheek against his pants to feel that exquisite hard
cock. She pursed her lips and began blowing air against the cloth and his penis
throbbed, trying to burst out. So she unzipped and helped his member escape.
Then, without hesitation, her mouth was full of glorious cock. He arched into
her and she took it deep, opening her throat as a line of drool dangled off her
lip.
“You’re crazy,”
Benjamin said.
But he didn’t pull
out, so she sucked in reply. Unfortunately, before his slick cum could fill her
mouth and roll along her tongue, before she’d had the chance to gulp his masculine
pride, before she could complete that feminine conquest, there was a knock at
the door.
“What’s going on?”
Marvin asked.
“Go away!” Jessie
yelled.
“But we have
customers!”
“Fuck off, Marvin.”
“I have to go,”
Benjamin said, stuffing that beautiful penis into his pants and zipping back
up.
“But…” Jessie said, her
composure wilting like a dying flower.
He opened the door to
Marvin, standing there in a company green apron that barely covered a blue Superman
T-Shirt. Like nearly everything superdork wore, this idiotic attire wasn’t
company approved either. There are nice white button down dress shirts they
provide. But he always ignored that directive and somehow the store manager had
never intervened.
“Excuse me,” Benjamin said, and brushed past.
“Can we get some
service?” Someone called from the front.
Marvin stepped in the
closet as Jessie clamored to stand.
“You want to see a
movie?” Marvin asked like a puppy.
“Are you kidding me?”
“There’s a Bride of
Franken-”
“Not even if the
survival of humanity depended on it.”
She rushed out the
door, wiping drool off her lip, and went to the counter where customers
impatiently waited. Not taking no for an answer, Marvin pestered her again and
again across their shift. She tried to ignore him. When it became unbearable, she
threatened to file a sexual harassment claim to shut him up. Then he returned
the favor, threatening to tell the store manager about her closet interlude.
For the briefest
second, she considered giving him a pity fuck. It’d be just a few minutes of utter
revulsion. They’d get naked. And Marvin -- in his pathetic almost certain virginity
-- would shove inside and pound arhythmically against her groin, flopping about
like a dying mackerel on the planks of a small fishing boat. Then, before she
knew it, he’d be done, confidently asking how it’d been for her.
It was enough to make
a lonely chick just up and quit.
Still, the poor girl
was young and horny. What she needed was a good hard fucking. Something Marvin
couldn’t begin to comprehend. After arriving home that evening, she contemplated
her woeful situation.
Jessie had reached a
point of utter despair. How could she ever find someone like Adam again?
Someone with an articulate voice and the right forceful tone; someone who knew
the kinds of kinky things she loved; someone whose presence made her knees
swoon by his command, leaving a wet stain down the center of her camel toe
embossed panties.
She took out that laptop
her parents had bought her two years before during a fruitless attempt at
community college. Perusing the nastiest and most perverted porn sites
available, she searched for a new fantasy to titillate those inner cravings.
But it was all false illusion. She needed more. And that’s when she got the
idea. Why not have some online fun?
She created the
anonymous email address spermbank@freemail.com. Then went
to a personals site that specialized in kinky game play.
Who cares what people think? She reasoned. Nobody will know. I won't even tell them my
first name. Maybe I’ll get lucky and really find someone.
She was an island,
alone in this world save for family and a few friends. And most of them lived
on the other side of the country. They’d never learn this dirty little secret. It’s
not like her roommates cared either.
So she posted an advertisement:
From: Spermbank
Bitch sks Hard Cock to
Teach Stiff Lesson. Reply if you’ve got what it takes to make my toes curl.
Otherwise, fuck off.
Messages poured into
her inbox like the deluge of an electronic flash flood. Unfortunately, none of
them interested her. Several men simply emailed close-up photos of their cocks
and not a word more. A few others meekly asked if she would kindly be willing
to meet. One sent her a photo of a pool of vomit, which for a moment did
titillate. Then she got disgusted.
Where is a man for me?!?! She moaned inwardly.
But Jessie is a
persistent girl. She kept resubmitting that advertisement to no avail. This was
no Goldilocks situation, where suitors a little too meek, and others a little too
harsh, lined up for their appointed rejections. It became clear that there
might never be that one day when the right someone from the precious middle
would finally respond. No, like everyone else she’d fucked that year, these
notes came from those wholly inappropriate to her needs.
But then, just as
hope seemed lost, a most curious email arrived from someone who called himself
straightshooter. It said simply:
From: Straightshooter
To: spermbank
I've seen your postings for weeks. Haven't you found someone to fill
you up YET?
At first she was
annoyed.
Who is this asshole? She thought.
Jessie considered inviting
him for a hook-up only to have her Italian friend Vinnie beat the shit out of
him. But, unlike the stereotype, Vinnie is kind of a pussy. And he lived three
thousand miles away. So she decided to ignore the jerk. But that message kept
drawing her eyes back to the screen, a twisted dispatch reminding her of unfulfilled
need. She decided to test him and wrote back:
I'm choosy. Definitely not interested in a dickless twerp like you.
A day later she
checked email and found his reply:
From: Straightshooter
To: spermbank
As you read this, think of cock sliding in and out and in and out.
You're hunched over a car, fingers splayed across its grimy hood. The small of
your back curves in desire, while a hand grabs your hair pushing and pulling
and yanking and tugging. Ass bumps against groin, groin against ass, again and
again and again. Your nails scratch up that old paint like bear claws on bark. Then,
you gasp as a finger reaches around to rub your little pussy button. Would you
like to be fucked like that little cunt?
Jessie closed the
laptop and marched away in shock. Trying to ignore those frightening emotions
roiling inside her, she decided to heat water. Yes, some Twinings would help calm
her down. In the kitchen, a little teapot sat on the stove while she impatiently
tapped a foot. Then, in a huff, she hurried back to the laptop and ripped its
clamshell open.
“Fuck you!” She
yelled at the screen. And, as if that hadn't been enough, she repeated herself
for effect. “Fuuuuuuck you!”
The screen said
nothing so she slammed the lid back down. Presently, she had an idea for the
perfect sarcastic reply, so she opened it again. Then, she closed it and
re-opened it once more. She let out an angry humph and started to turn away,
but peeked back at the screen and thought of another snide reply. A twisted
smirk formed.
As she considered
that epiphany, Jessie’s hand unconsciously began to explore under her skirt. It
reached its destination and her fingers began to swirl and whirl and twirl in
the exact right place those panties covered. But her attention was on that
screen. She sat down on an old wood chair in her room, by that crappy little student
desk, staring at the reply button on screen contemplating how to word a nasty
message. Then her thighs tightened from a wave of pleasure and they closed on
her hand like a pair of scissors.
“What the fuck!?”
She’d been
masturbating! And it’d felt good. At
least her roommates weren’t around. It’s not like anyone saw. So Jessie pulled
her panties down and applied greater pressure, fingers separating that cleave
of her nether lips, rubbing her little lump directly. Now she was committed to
the act and there was no stopping.
“Oh my God!”
She popped buttons
along her blouse until those lovely little breasts were fully exposed. Her belly
and thighs and calves clenched in delicious waves of pleasure from increasing
stimulation. She reached under her bra and pinched a nipple to the point of
pain, swirling and twirling that nub between her legs. Then, head down, hair
drooping, stomach cramping, she finally let out a wail as oblivion followed; a
climax so strong she thought she might pass out from delight.
The exertion left her
heaving and covered in sweat. Jessie reclined with a blissfully stupid grin on
her face. A drop of perspiration fell off her nose just as the teapot squealed.
And his message loomed into view, demanding attention. So she’d responded with
a single word: Yes.
Across two weeks
there were more emails, each increasingly aberrant, each, adding erotic charge.
He demanded she masturbate at every opportunity, but not to orgasm. She was
only allowed climax at his command. This game was a maddening combination of
excitement and frustration. Every day, as she tempted yet denied that urge, his
hold over her will amplified.
Next, she was to open
a post office box. He mailed her a blood red satin elastic neckband and
commanded she wear this when playing. Each night she’d stretch it on, that soft
cloth snugly wrapping her throat with twisted erotic implications. Then she’d
open that laptop to receive another command.
She was to wear that
band around her neck at work and masturbate in the bathroom. But not orgasm. He
made her take photographs in the stall, her engorged vulva in the foreground,
the floor out of focus behind. She had to pinch a nipple until she cried in
pain and then take a picture of that areola hard and tender. Finally, he
ordered that she use her cellphone to video shaving her pubic hair and email it
back. And she did, stroking her juicy little twat on video to give him an
additional thrill.
It was as if, without having met, he read her
mind. Digging into the depths of her sexual depravity he could pry loose
corrupt inner fantasies from a barely remembered dreamscape and bring them to
life.
She’d masturbated
countless times yet had not one orgasm for twelve days. A breeze up her skirt would
set off a sensual jolt up her spine. She was constantly aroused, each night
returning home from work with damp and smelly underwear. At just the slightest
touch on that now much too sensitive clit, she’d arch uncontrollably, her body
begging for release.
At that point of
ultimate weakness and frustration, he sent a command that nearly derailed the
game. Yet, in retrospect, was also crucial to making her accept that tryst.
From: Straightshooter
To: spermbank
Who is the most pathetic loser in your life? You know him, even if you
don’t want him. But he wants you. And he’s going to have your mouth. For the
low, low, price of just one dollar.
At a point when he least suspects, you are to offer a blowjob. Make
certain he accepts, like every good little whore should. And when he spews that
load all over your tongue, you are to savor his taste knowing I’ve pimped you
out to someone even more desperate than you. Gargle it like mouthwash,
spermbank. And swallow every last drop.
Don’t bother writing back until this task is accomplished. I want
specifics in your next report.
Ugh! Jessie slammed
the laptop shut. What a creep. Of course there was only one person who fit that
description. Marvin. And no way would she do that for him. She flopped down in bed and considered finding
another online play partner. This game had gone far enough. She didn’t even
want to masturbate! Talk about a buzz kill. She fell asleep dejected and lonely
once again.
Two days later, she
and superdork had just closed the store and were cleaning up before ending their
shift. Today, he’d worn a wretched mustard yellow T-shirt emblazoned with the
word ATARI. The boy seemed to delight in turning off women.
“Batman or Superman?”
He asked, mopping the floor.
“What?”
“I mean,” he
explained, “would you choose Batma-”
“Shut up.”
“Working with you,”
he said, holding that mop and gazing up to the ceiling, “it’s like you can’t
even have a conversation!”
“Because that was the
stupidest question ever.”
“Each has his good
points,” Marvin continued. “Batman is dark, moody, the silent type. But
Superman is superstrong and all good and light.”
Jessie stood by the
counter with sponge in hand and considered her options. There was a knife in
the drawer, it could cut and slash and gouge. And the base to that blender
seemed heavy enough to smash his cranium. But she opted for one that wouldn’t
land her in prison and threw the sponge.
“Hey!” He said as it
hit him on the chest, leaving a dirty wet spot on the center of his green
apron. “Why do you have to be such a bitch?”
With a snarl, Jessie
ambled toward him, confident and sure. Alarm came to his face and he backed
away. But she didn’t relent and soon they stood face to chin. Yet, even though
he was a good five inches taller, by his expression it seemed as though she
towered above.
“You,” she said,
poking his chest, “are a pathetic worm.”
He stepped back and
she inched forward, a dance of intimidation and fear as she nudged him by jab
and prod toward the rear closet.
“What is wrong with
you?”
She pushed him in and
closed the door behind.
“Please don’t hurt
me,” he whimpered.
“You know,” she said
with a scowl, “that I will never, ever, go out on a date with you.”
“Yes,” he admitted,
with a sad and pathetic sulk.
“But,” she continued.
“This is your lucky day.”
His face scrunched up
in confusion.
“Just this once,” she
said. “Right now. At this exact moment. I am going to suck your cock.”
“What!?!”
“You do want your
cock sucked, don’t you?”
“You’re weird,” he
said, trembling.
“You have no idea,”
she replied. “Put your hands behind your back. Don’t you dare touch me. I run
this show. Understand?”
He reached behind for
the doorknob to escape, but she swatted his hand away.
“Please let me go.”
Jessie dropped to her
knees in reply. She took his hands and set them behind his back on the wood of
that door. As he quivered, she unzipped. He shut his eyes tightly and let out a
little groan as she pursed her lips and blew air into the gap.
Marvin’s head tipped
up and his fingers clawed at wood.
Reaching in, she
pulled his member out from the flap of Six Million Dollar Man briefs. My God,
this kid was a dork. A regular Shaggy, tall and beanpole thin, with a little
scrawny of beard at his chin. And, like him, Marvin was cowardly, frightened
into submission by the slightest cheap thrill. Maybe she looked a little more
Velma than Daphne, but a Freddie was more her type. So why was she on her knees
in front of this twerp about to suck cock at the behest of some online Scooby
Doo? She imagined that anonymous dog’s face, sitting behind a laptop, reading
her detailed report, with a creepy and twisted grin as he snickered at her
predicament.
But this was no time
for long deliberation. Marvin’s hand was already inching toward that doorknob
again. She ferociously swatted it away a second time.
“Bad boy,” she said,
wagging a finger no.
Then she steeled
herself to the task. His expectant cock throbbed in front of her. She was
pleasantly surprised to notice a generous length and girth to the member. It
turned out there was one part of him not so pitiful after all. She pursed her
mouth and tentatively took its tip in.
“Please don’t bite,”
he begged.
Jessie pulled out,
shook her head and sighed.
“Just imagine you’re
climbing into a roller coaster,” she said.
“But I hate roller
coasters,” he whined.
“Shut the fuck up,”
she replied and shoved it back in her mouth.
At least he’d
showered recently; it didn’t taste bad. Rock hard, the veins along his shaft swiftly
pulsated to a rapid heartbeat. This little boy needed her loving care. She
pursed and gently sucked, her tongue exploring the sensitive bell of his cock.
“Oh!” His knees
knocked uncontrollably.
Going down deeper,
she took more of him in and let her throat open. He shivered and squealed and
let out a little shriek. Then, getting a good seal with her lips, she applied plenty
of suction and pulled. The poor boy nearly collapsed to the floor.
“Like that, don’t
you,” she teased, gazing up into his eyes.
His lips quivered in
reply. As he peered back down, Jessie took him in again and got to work. Legs
shuddering, this time he grabbed the doorknob to steady himself and she didn’t
bother to swat. Then, getting a good rhythm, she bopped her mouth along his
beanpole, slurping and sucking and gulping that cock as his face scrunched
tightly, eyes squinting, his head twisting and turning back and forth against
that wood door uncontrollably.
There was a little
bitterness. Then, a big squirt and her tongue caught a stream of slimy residue.
The consistency of egg white, salty and bitter, his jism filled her mouth in
spurts. His thighs buckled and cock throbbed with each release. It drooled off
her lip, down her chin, and onto the official green apron she wore. Soon, he
was done.
“Holy shit!” He
screeched, eyes bulging, knees knocking, every bit of him trembling in delight.
Jessie’s tongue was
covered with the boy’s slick masculine fluid. Remembering her orders, she swished
the stuff around in her mouth, tipped her head back, and gargled.
“What are you doing?”
Staring into his
eyes, she proudly swallowed it all in one gulp.
“Mouthwash,” she
replied.
“What. The. Fuck.”
His jaw dropped.
Standing up
tentatively, Jessie’s tender knees were red and raw from that hard floor. There
was one last task she had to fulfill with him and her cheeks burned with
embarrassment at the thought of asking. All she needed was one measly dollar.
But, even though she’d already given the goods, she hadn’t told him the price
yet. Talk about bad business practice.
“One more uhhh,” she
said, stammering. “Thing.” She winced and her head drooped.
There was an
uncomfortable silence.
“Yeah?” He asked.
“Whatever,” she
replied, utterly humiliated.
Jessie opened the
closet door and rushed past, leaving him with the task of stuffing his boyhood
back into those childish underpants.
“Get a move on!”
Jessie called into the closet, annoyed with herself. “We have to finish
cleaning.”
Then she picked up
the sponge and began wiping the counter. He came out with a sheepish grin, took
the mop, and thankfully said nothing for once. The two finished, she locked up,
and they stood at the front door. He didn’t seem to want to leave.
“Marvin?”
“Yeah?” He said
awkwardly, obviously hoping for more.
“There’s one last
thing,” she continued, screwing up courage.
“Name it,” he replied
with a grandiose smile.
“Uh,” she stammered.
“Well. Um. I need.”
“What?”
“Payment.”
“Are you kidding me?”
He asked, shocked. “You’re a prostitute?”
“Marvin,” she said sighing. In that disgrace,
a crack on the sidewalk became fascinating.
“You didn’t say this
would cost money,” he complained. “I’ve never paid for sex!”
“You’ve never had
sex.”
“You know,” he said,
stuttering. “Yes I have had sex. And fuck you too!”
“Come on,” she
persisted. “Just one dollar.”
“So you’re a cheap
whore then.”
“Yeah,” she said as
her shoulders drooped, wanting to facepalm. “The absolute cheapest.” She
reached up and grabbed the collar of that wretched ATARI T-shirt. “Just pay me
a dollar.”
“Hey!” He said,
pushing her away. “That’s my favorite shirt!” Stepping back he gave her a
peculiar look, then shrugged. “Fuck this, I’m outta here.”
And Marvin rushed
away.
It was over. She’d
done it. Mostly. Christ, she’d sucked Marvin’s cock at the behest of a stranger
over the Internet! How fucked up is that? But she needed that dollar. Still,
it’s only a buck. She could afford that. Clearly, the dork couldn’t. She’d just
tell straightshooter he’d paid her. Problem solved.
Upon arriving home,
Jessie pursed her lips closed good and tight lest curious roommates smell
cockbreath. But they ignored her. Then she rushed in her room and wrote that
detailed report she’d been tasked to complete. After pressing send, she went to
bed and stroked that sensitive clit, careful not to let herself cum. Oh, such
delicious agony! To the brink, again and again and again. Masturbating all
night, the poor girl was unable to sleep.
The next morning she
checked email and found a short reply. He’d congratulated her strength and
resolve. But there was another command. This one sent her tummy fluttering in
fear and anticipation. Shivers flowed up and down her spine. She couldn’t help
but touch herself to an almost instant orgasm. No! She’s not allowed.
In his note, she was
ordered to wear that red satin neckband and go to a dilapidated little parking
lot on the edge of town. This evening. There, she’d be his collared slut. To be
used, body and soul -- by this as yet unmet man -- for an amorous and kinky
rendezvous.
And that’s how she
found herself alone, at night, waiting to meet an Internet sicko. Someone who
wasn’t even a proper acquaintance. To play out this dangerous fantasy in real
life. There, they’d be strangers in a parking lot.
~~~***~~~
T
hose blinding
headlights came in and stopped by the derelict car, illuminating its grubby hood.
Jessie backed away until she bumped into the shack, her clean skirt now soiled
by dust and oily dirt from its grimy surface. In panic, her hands pressed
against the coarse wood from behind as if she might claw her way through. She
tugged at the padlock, hoping to tear it from the door and escape inside. But
it held. How stupid, she realized. There’d have been no way to lock the shack
from the inside anyway.
It was like a scene out
of every slasher movie. The young girl, who just wanted to get fucked by her
hot boyfriend, instead flees from the killer into a closet. But that never works.
The girl’s throat is cut from ear to ear, blood gushing down her chest in
throbbing waves to the beat of her dying heart.
Jessie glanced left and right for a way to run,
the exit of that parking lot right next to her. But the thought he might shoot
provoked paralysis. Her tongue stuck to the roof of her mouth, dry and rough like
sandpaper. A finger picked out splinters from the door’s rough wood behind,
until one shard pierced skin. She pressed down hard to feel something -- anything
-- until it burrowed inward. Then the car door opened and she considered dropping
to her knees to beg forgiveness.
But a figure emerged quite
unlike what she had expected. In their email exchanges, he had told her he was
young and athletic, a former college football quarterback and all around big
jock. He told her that he had what it took to make her squeal in delight, all
she must do was follow his every command without hesitation. Instead, the man
who came into view was wiry slim, with a cheap dress jacket and thick plastic
glasses. He was older than he’d claimed to be. However, at least he held no knife
or gun. Which was a relief.
“Jessie?”
She didn't answer and
continued glaring at the pavement.
“Jessie,” he
repeated, with sternness, “look at me.”
Their eyes met.
“You’re nothing like
what you said,” she complained.
“And yet, you’re everything,”
he replied with wry mocking. “Not fair, is it?”
She stared at the
ground again, not answering. He came closer and there was alcohol on his
breath. His finger reached out and hooked her skirt. He tugged. Knees buckling,
she shuffled forward until they reached the hood of that derelict auto, awash
in light from his car’s headlamps. The man ambled around behind her and the derelict’s
grimy hood took center view. She stood, transfixed, contemplating a mass of
imperfections along its surface. It felt as though her belly had jumped off a
skyscraper and tumbled, pavement spinning ever closer. And she liked that
sensation.
“You know you want
this,” he whispered into her ear from behind. “You, bent over. A cock. Sliding
in and out. A stranger, using you like a cheap whore. Taking whatever he wants.
And you, getting fucked like a good little slut.”
“I have to go,” she said,
gasping.
“Do you really?”
“Please let me go.”
“I'm not stopping you,”
he replied nonchalantly. “Walk away.”
“Please...”
“Or, unbuckle my belt.”
He grabbed her hair
and yanked her head. Peeking from the corner of her eyes she caught his gaze
and her knees buckled. Then he let go and all she saw was that nasty old hood
again.
“I order you to remove
my belt,” he commanded. “Now!”
If she dashed away,
he would probably be too slow to catch up. She was considering that possibility
when he spun her to face him. His pants came into view and her roving hands
were already unbuckling the belt. It turned out she couldn’t help herself. He
then removed it from her fingers and gradually slid the leather strap out from
the loops of his pants.
“Good girl.”
Had he said, ‘good
girl?’ How demeaning. Her cheeks flushed from the offensive realization. But,
as this distracted her, he whirled her to face the car and raised her skirt.
Then began slowly unzipping.
“Wait!”
“On the hood.”
“But, I-”
He took her hair and
yanked her head to the side again and their eyes locked together as she glanced
sideways. In that moment, his words had force like she’d never experienced. His
control set fire to her loins. This man wasn’t a jock, much less strong. Hell,
he wasn’t even terribly cute. But there was a strange power to his gaze that burrowed
into her like a hornet’s sting. Her palms reached out and hit the hood of that filthy
dead car.
“You want cock, do
you?” He whispered into her ear, lightly stroking the small of her back.
She moaned in reply.
“So, you want my cock
inside of you. Pushing. Thrusting. In and out and in and out.”
“Yes,” came her quiet
reply.
“OK,” he said, with the
tone of a shrug.
She peeped to catch a
glimpse from behind and just then he shoved her face onto the hood, its grime
smearing across her cheeks. She tried to push up, elbows jutting out, blouse
ruined. But she was pinned. His hardon pressed against her ass as she vainly wriggled
and protested.
“Do you still resist?”
Rudely hunched over
the car, entirely helpless, he slowly ran a finger up and down the cloth of her
flower-print panties. Jessie moaned and her protestations abated. The friction
of his finger increased as moistness infused the cloth, and he probed harder
and harder. Christ, she wanted cock!
He asked if this time she would follow his
orders.
“Yes,” She relented
in a whisper.
“Yes, what?” He
yanked her head up and looked into her eye. “What!”
She flinched at his
yell, entirely confused by how to respond. An uncomfortable silence followed,
threatening to pop the spell like a pin stuck into a balloon. But instead of
telling her what to do or say, he slid those panties off her hips and they dropped
past her knees to settle around her ankles. Then he unzipped her skirt and it
swooshed down onto the ground in a heap by her feet.
Yanking her up, he
ordered her to remove her blouse and bra. She didn’t hesitate. Quickly unbuttoning
and unhooking, she untangled both garments from her arms and handed them over. He
took her skirt and panties from between her feet and tossed the bunch in his
driver’s side window. They flopped onto the seat with a little whoosh. And she was
entirely exposed to anyone who might walk by. Jessie shivered in fear and
delight at the thought of a voyeur passing.
“Where’s my dollar?”
He asked.
“In my purse,” she
replied, falsely nonchalant.
“And did he pay you
that dollar?”
“Yeah. Of,” she
stammered. “Of. Uh. Of course!” Her cheeks flushed deep red.
“I don’t think so,”
he said. “You’re lying.”
“Am not,” she
hesitantly claimed.
“You are an insolent little bitch,” he said
and forced her to look first at the belt in his hand and then into his eyes.
“You deserve to be
punished, don’t you think?” He asked, annunciating each word with menace. “Shouldn’t
a lying little bitch like yourself be punished before she gets her treat?”
He shoved her face
back down on to the hood, that belt lightly swaying along her ass,
tantalizingly brushing her skin.
This can't be happening. She thought. This can't be happening. This can't be
happening. This can’t be happening!
“You still do want
cock, right? Shall I punish you so you can have cock?”
There was a delicious
pause of anticipation.
“Yes,” she whispered.
At that moment she
relaxed and closed her eyes, resigned for what was to come. Her pussy was open,
juices flowing, and she could not help but notice that this was the sexiest
thing she’d ever experienced. He might kill her yet, but at least she’ll
probably cum first.
The first stroke from
the belt hit her left butt-cheek. It stung like a motherfucker. She immediately
tensed her legs and sucked in a deep breath through dry teeth. The next stroke
went to her right butt-cheek, which hurt even more, and she let out a little
shriek. Then, alternating one cheek after the next, he continued striking in
quick succession until tears flowed.
“Yes, WHAT, bitch?”
He struck her again
and again until her ass seared in pain.
“I don’t know!” She
screamed. “I promise I don't know!”
“Yes, Sir!” He
replied.
He struck her again
even harder than before.
“Yes, Sir,” she
wailed back, humiliated and crying like a disobedient child. “Yes, Sir!”
Everything slowed
down and tunnel-vision overtook her. The blows ended and he dropped the belt to
the ground. Her ass cheeks felt raw, stinging from even the slightest breeze. Slowly,
the pain faded to a dull throb and Jessie’s sobs turned to whimpering. A slow
pool of tears had formed on the hood, leaving a little clean spot amidst the
grime.
As awareness
returned, the man’s hand explored between her legs where she remained moist and
ready. Moans poured out forth as he worked two fingers inside. She wiggled her
hips to force those fingers in and out, while his other hand gently stroked the
welts on her tender ass.
“Oh God, yes!” She
cried.
He removed the
fingers and she heard him sniff. Then he reached around and placed them right
at her mouth.
“Clean,” he ordered.
The humiliations
never ceased. She took those fingers in and licked them, moving her head back
and forth as if they were gloriously hard cock. She wanted it to be his cock. Then she heard the telltale
sound of a zipper.
“It’s time,” he said.
Presently, the bell
of his member lightly pressed from behind. She arched and raised her ass for
ease of entry. But he pulled back ever so slightly and kept the tip of his cock
right at the valley of her labia.
“Please,” she begged.
“Inside me!”
He grabbed her hair
and yanked.
“What the fuck did I
tell you before, cunt?” He growled into her ear.
"Inside, Sir!”
“Oh, you'll get it,”
he said with a snarl. “I promise.”
Shoving her back down
on the hood, her hair bounced and flowed around her face in waves. Back in
position, he slid his hard cock along the crack of her ass, across her little
hole, and up over her backside. Then, in the opposite direction, he dragged it
back down, until it nearly entered her in that proper place and rubbed against
her juicy clit. In this manner, he directed that cock very slowly and very
gently up and down along her crack. Again and again and again. Anxiety built within
her as Jessie realized his dark intent. She lifted her head from the hood peeked
back into his eyes with a gasp of horror.
“Sir,” she said,
trembling. “I'm scared.”
“Good,” he replied. “Prepare yourself.”
Her knees let go and
she fell to the hood, covering her face, breasts, and stomach in grime. She
spread her legs. He was going to do this thing and like everything else that
had happened she couldn’t stop it. So she closed her eyes tight, spread her
legs as far as possible, and waited in delicious anticipation.
Then, she felt it. At
first, just a slight pressure as he aligned his cock to the wrong hole and
gently pushed without lubrication. Her little bud of excretion slowly opened to
that insistent burden and she grimaced as the discomfort intensified. He took
his sweet time penetrating, and she felt every moment of that delightful agony.
Slowly he pushed, not letting up, each little thrust forcing her diminutive
hole open slightly more. Then, just as she could take it no more, it stretched
fully apart and he plopped in.
At that instant it was unbearable suffering. She
yelped, eyes bulging. Uncontrollably, Jessie’s hand reached back to try and
push him away. But she couldn’t reach him and he wouldn’t have stopped anyway.
The tip of his cock,
that phallus bell, was finally inside. But just. Thankfully, for a moment he
didn’t move. But, as the discomfort subsided, she rearranged her hands back
into position on the car and raised herself off the hood. Then he slowly pushed
further inward. She closed her eyes and grit her teeth but still it was too
much.
“It’s too big, Sir,”
she complained. “Oh, my God. It’s so fucking big!”
He ignored her.
Pulling out just a little bit, he slowly inched back in again. With each stab it
became slightly easier until he formed a little rhythm. Soon, Jessie rocked and
swayed willingly to his backside invasion.
It was the first time
a cock had been in her ass. She’d never felt anything like it, so different
from stimulating her pussy. Adam once put his finger in there, but that hadn’t
come close to the intensity of this. Her asshole burned from the friction. But
the pain transformed into waves of sensuality.
“Oh my God, yes!” She
cried out. Then, losing control she yelled, “Fuck me! Fuck my ass!”
His only reply to was
push harder and faster. It was good, but there was something missing. Needing
direct stimulation to orgasm, she was desperate for release. She took a hand
out of position and reached between her legs.
“May I please touch
my clit, Sir?”
“No cumming!” He
ordered. “Whores don’t deserve it.”
He grabbed her hands,
pulling them behind by the wrists. She was not to be allowed masturbation while
he fucked her ass. The thought of this denial drove her into a sexual frenzy as
he took her mercilessly. Sometimes she gasped in pain, but more often the
eruptions were from unexpected pleasure. She could feel his cock throb inside
her bowels and she expected he would cum. The thought of his seed dripping out her
ass and down between her thighs made her squeeze to clutch his cock and force
an orgasm. But, before losing control, he violently pulled out.
“Ow!” She complained.
“Why did you stop?”
“Jesus, you’re a
shitty sub.”
Yanking her up by the
hair, he led her to the passenger side door of his car. Then, he opened it and shoved
her in. At this point she was far too gone to even consider what risk this
might entail, and instead was simply pleased it wasn’t over. He walked around
to the driver’s side and got in.
For the first time,
they faced one another in the car’s interior light. She saw his older face,
graying hair, and little double chin. She, only twenty years old, just
ass-fucked by this man who must have been at least twice her age -- and wanting
even more! He glanced down at his cock. In the semi-darkness she could see very
light stains up and down the shaft as it throbbed back and forth to his
heartbeat. He grabbed her hair and forced her to look in his eyes again, but
didn't say a word.
“Oh my God,” she
cried in realization. “No!”
“Little bitch, you’re
the one who claims to be submissive.”
“But-”
“Jesus fucking
Christ, but what?”
“Oh my God,” she said.
“Let your tongue worship
my Chocolate sullied Jesus,” he replied, his eyes locked onto hers.
Once again Jessie
felt the power of a gaze she knew she could not resist. Then, she looked at his
smudged and filthy cock. A palm reached behind her head and she took a deep
breath as her head was pushed down ever closer. Smelling it, that disgusting
odor, it reminded her of a squalid public lavatory. She thought she might
vomit. But didn’t. Instead, the cock wormed its way into her mouth and she took
it in like a good little slut.
But it wasn’t without
difficulty. Jessie writhed and wriggled in horror as that first taste washed
over her. It’s not just that it was bad. It’s not just that the thought of it
made her wretch. It was that she enjoyed it. That horrible tang alone might
have been too much. But being forced to suck a shit-stained cock by a total
stranger, in an open parking lot, seemed so... filthy perverted. She was his
soiled little girl, helpless and humiliated. Never had she felt anything like
this. Jessie loved and hated it at the same time.
“Go more slowly,” he
said. “Blow me like a close lover. With passion. With sensuality. As you clean
that shit off my shaft with your tongue.”
“Yes, Sir.” Came the
burbling reply.
Eagerly, Jessie
dutifully cleaned, gradually washing every last bit with her tongue. And in the
aberrant sexuality of it, she couldn’t help herself. The girl’s head began
bopping up and down off his rod like a pogo stick. The stranger squirmed as she
worked him over, closing him in to release.
Soon, gushing slime
erupted in her mouth, slick and warm and salty and bitter and stringy egg
white. His legs jiggled and he moaned and she gulped down the first, second,
and third gooey streams. Like a good little bitch she kept sucking and
swallowing and massaging his balls until not a drop emerged.
Jessie sat up, proud
of the accomplishment, as a little stream of slimy dribble trailed down her
chin. She gave him a quizzical look as he rearranged that cock back into his
pants and zipped.
“Get out,” he said.
“What?”
“You heard me, bitch.
Get the fuck out.”
He reached across her
lap and opened the car door. This was the ultimate disgrace. He had whipped
her, fucked her ass, and made her suck his shit-stained cock. And now he was
kicking out of the car like a common little street whore.
“Get out and sit your
ass on the ground outside,” he barked. “That's an order!”
Jessie started crying
while slowly sliding her bare ass off the leather cushion. Once out of the car,
the girl fell to the ground, bare hips in the dirt, slivers of glass biting
into skin. The car started.
“You may cum now,” he
said, leering out the car window with a sneer.
Heading toward the
exit, he tossed her clothes out the driver’s side window, to be left strewn
about on that foul pavement. Then the car surged forward and plumes of dust
rose out from behind. And he’d never even taken the dollar. It hadn’t really been
earned, she supposed.
There the girl stayed,
asshole raw, those welts along her behind aching, that spicy dirt aftertaste in
her just used mouth lingering, shocked and exhilarated by what she’d just done.
Then her hand slid down to that special place between her legs and she rubbed
furiously, as hard as she could, until the world was blotted out by a torrent
of convulsions.
She was covered in
grime. Blood trickled down skin pierced by slivers of glass strewn about the
pavement. But she didn’t care. Instead, she masturbated to gleeful climax once
again.
Finally satisfied
after two weeks of denial, Jessie lay in the muck and gazed at the empty
entrance to that rundown parking lot. Marveling in elation at every sick thing
she’d done, it was as if she’d just stepped off that roller coaster, gleefully
alive and ready to queue up for another ride once again. She let out a
contented sigh. Then, standing up, she teetered on unsteady feet to collect her
purse and clothes.
I wonder if he’ll let me see him again, she thought absently, stepping
into that stained skirt to cover a naked and abused body.