Nightwalker
She stood still, as still as she could despite the shivering, despite her body
pushing so hard against the cold cement of the building. She was sure, but not
quite sure she was hidden in the shadows. Her chin quivered, her eyes batted,
almost feeling the need to cry, but not quite. Hands coiled tighter into fists
rammed into the pockets of the waist length "fluffy" jacket. That had been her
word for it. Pink and fluffy. It was nothing she would ever have picked for
herself. Her watch chimed the hour and she jumped. Wide eyes glared at the face
of the clock. 10pm. Her heart pounding deep in her chest. I couldn't be time!
Not already! She wasn't ready. It was too early, too busy. The people, mostly
men, looked too frightening. But it was time. It was time to step out of the
shadows and into the light, well, the lamp post light at least. She had to. It
was time and surly she was being watched from somewhere. Tentatively her foot
slid across the asphalt, then the other, moving slowly into the light. She
looked down, watching as the light slowly exposed her. 5 inch heeled black pumps
lighting up first, then the black stockings. A shudder jolted thru her. Had they
slid down? Would they be lower than the crotch covering black skirt she wore?
Jerking back into the shadows she checked, giving each stocking a little tug up,
pulling them tighter up her shapely legs. Then, lifting her head up high, trying
to find dignity she did not feel at that moment, she stepped her entire body out
of her haven and into her...what was it to be? her hell? Her shame? Oh, it was
her shame. The tingle deep within her belly reminded her how completely her
shame filled her. How little control she had over her own flesh. He had trained
her. He had trained her so well to absorb the lust in every moment, to need
beyond that ability to gain, to live for a touch, a thrust, anything. Yes. he
had trained her and now he had placed her on a street corner. Her clothes
betraying what her body needed, that she was a slut. Her face burned crimson and
she turned away. Several deep breaths filled her lungs before she turned back.
Then, slipping the compact from her pocket to checked her make up. With a frown
she realized it would take a chisel to get this crap off her face. She patted at
her cheeks anyway, slid the compact back into her pocket and went to settle
herself at the corner he'd sent her to. Her hand wrapped around the street post,
her hip jutted out to the side. Sighing, she remembered, then fumbled in her
pocket until she found the package of gum. Don't all cheap whores chew gum? She
winced, remembering his words as he'd slipped the pack into her pocket.
Returning to her position on the post, she looked around timidly. There were a
few other "girls" about, a couple looking her over. Checking out the new "meat"
on the street. The shame coursed up and down her spine. That's exactly what she
was now. Her eyes burned with tears. Oh gawd! What had she gotten herself into!
The cold autumn evening wind danced up her thigh, caressing the near naked flesh
to the edge of the stocking. She shivered, a hand reaching to pat down the too
short skirt, not that it did any good. Thighs apart as He'd taught her all those
times in her living room as he lay on the floor watching her practice her "whore
walk" and "whore stance" until it became almost natural to her. It had been fun
then, exciting in a sort of way. To feel sleazy, even a little dirty, but
knowing she would end up only in his arms. But now she was obeying, now she was
standing on the street corner he's pointed out. Now she was dressed like all
those women she'd seen on TV, now she was one of them.
Walking seemed a better idea than standing, at least it kept the cold from
reaching it's naughty hand-like gust under her skirt. She licked her dry lips,
tasting only the layers of lipstick he had watched her apply. Maybe this was a
joke, maybe he didn't really mean for her to go thru with it. Maybe...she shook
her head, taking another step as to escape the thought. No, he had meant it. And
she would obey. In the last 4 months she had learned to obey him, learned the
consequences of failure to do so, and remembered the last words he said to her
when she signed the contract. "Signing this is the last free choice you make."
And she had signed. Did she regret it now? Perhaps. But also perhaps it was the
shame that was causing the regret. She would obey, she would service a stranger
for money as he wished. Then she would decide. Her heeled feet clattered on the
sidewalk as she walked, staying as close to the building as possible, back and
forth. She glanced at her watch, 14 minutes had passed. Only 14?! Gawd, it felt
like hours. The tattoo of her heels echoed in the alley she passed wishing she
could drop back into it's shadows, but she couldn't. She had to please he who
had trained her. Her eyes locked on the road, terrified of someone stopping her,
terrified of someone not. Would he become angry if she failed? She turned,
walking back toward the street lamp which was the beacon of her shame for the
night. The hand gripped around her face before she could inhale, yanking her
back into the shadows of the alley. Instinctively, her body bucked, twisting,
feet kicking. the left hand shot up holding a buck knife no more than an inch
from her face.
"Be still." the deep voice hissed.
She froze. Oh gawd. Ohgawdohgawdohgawd. What was happening. Before she could
answer, his face leaned against her, clad in some dark knit ski mask. His voice
filled her head. A terrible harsh whisper.
"Ok whore, I wouldn't mind cutting you up like the cunt last week, just make a
sound...a move..anything and I will. Or you move with me down the alley." She
shivered so hard in his grasp, her eyes locked on the shining blade, her heart
pounding in her chest, almost stopping with his words. Cutting her. Oh gawd, no,
this can't be happening! Eyes broke from the blade, jumping wildly, wondering
where her lover is, her Master. The man who sent her out to be the street whore
for his pleasure and his financial gain. Where was he?! He'd promised she would
never know harm in his care. Where was he now that she needed him.
The hand at her mouth jerked hard, jerking her face. "What'll it be whore? Nice
or bloody?"
She nodded. There was little else she could do as he still held her mouth so
cruelly. He brought the shimmering blade closer to her face. She whimpered in
his grasp, leaning back, leaning deeper into her attacker until the cold metal
touched her face.
"Good girl." he whispered. "I'm going to release your mouth, make a sound and
I'll cut the pretty face of yours."
She shivered against it, eyes again locked on it as if her life depended on it.
Maybe it did. Maybe everything depended on her watching it. Inside her head she
screamed, "Where is he??"
The attacker eased his grip around her, gripping a handful of hair and propelled
her further into the dark alley.
He stopped near the back, beside a garbage bin, near several garbage cans. The
place reeked, her nose curled in disgust.
"Aww, what's the matter? The dirty street whore needs a nicer environment to get
fucked?"
Her entire being cringed. The words cutting deeper into her than the knife ever
could. That is what he thought she was. That is why he grabbed her. She was the
dirty street whore. Her face burned with shame, but, despite the horror of her
situation, her belly tingled and the warm of her nether region began.
Oh No! Her training. She had been taught to wet at her own shame. This bastard
would see the most horrible shame she could ever know. Tears burned at her eyes.
Blinking rapidly, her head twisted, trying to find her protector.
The hand twisted her hair back violently, drawing out a yelp.
"He ain't there bitch."
"Wh...who?"
"Your pimp. I saw him watching you, knock him out before I took you. He ain't
coming to your rescue."
A sob escaped her lips, her knees buckling and she almost lost her balance. The
first whimpered pleas escaped her mouth. "Please, please, you don't understand,
I'm not one of those girls, it was...I was pleasing my boyfriend. He's not my
pimp, please don't do this!"
"Ya right." he hissed, throwing her over a turned over garbage can. "Let's see
how virginal you are."
She lost her balance, flying face down, the cold of the can holding her bent
over. His hand pressed into the small of her back holding her. "Don't move you
cheap whore."
Her body flinched at the first touch of the knife. It touched her upper thigh
softly, just over the stocking, then slowly moved up. He spoke as it moved.
"Nice women don't dress in sleazy stocking and short skirts, bitch, only cheap
whores do." Her body shivered at his words, the touch of the knife the shame
burning deeper into her soul than anything ever had before. "Please don't..."
she whimpered.
The knife caught under her skirt, then pressed up, pushing it over the curves of
her ass. Her hands gripped at the can, her chin trembling. He was exposing her.
Much more than just her flesh. Much more than her shame. The side of the blade
taped at her cheek. "Nice ass, fuck meat. Now spread your legs."
She swallowed hard, wanting to fight him, wanting to hurt him and run away. Run
so hard and so far as if she could run away from the memory of what she was
feeling. Instead, she obeyed. Obedience was second nature to her. Her head
dropped, her tears spilling to the ground as the soft sobs shook her body.
His hand reached under, jarring her to the actual events. He wasn't just shaming
her, he was raping her. She jerked her hips her away from him. Before she knew
it, his hand slapped down in the most painful open slap she had ever felt in her
life. Her ass cheek burned, no doubt his print blazing away on the flesh and she
howled out. He reached over, dropping the knife to the side and held her mouth
tightly, fingers digging into her flesh as his hand came down again and again.
She sobbing into his hand as he burned his hand prints into her again and again,
smacking surely with all his strength, sending her body bucking and rocking,
twisting. When he finally stopped, they were both gasping, breathing hard, she
was in tears, her body dropping limp around the garbage can. He gripped her
hair, yanking back until her throat was taunt, grabbed the knife and held it to
the tight flesh. "You ever deny me again and I'll cut you!" he growled into her
ear. She was whimpering. "Please, I'm sorry, I'm sorry, don't hurt me, please!"
Her body trembling with fear under his, her breath caught in her throat, eyes
wide, too terrified to cry as she waited. And she waited, it seemed like many
minutes as he made up his mind, though it was less than one. He released her
hair, slip his hand down her back, past her hips, over her ass, the knife never
moving from her throat. The dread growing, building, tormenting her as his hand
moved, until finally it dipped around her ass. And then he knew her most
horrible secret.
The chuckling in her ear was as horrid as the pleasure his rapist hand inflicted
on her body. He dabbled in her wetness. "Is this what the dirty street whore was
hiding from me. Is it?"
With a whimper, she carefully nodded her head against the knife. Her torment
complete.
She slammed her eyes shut, wanting to scream, to stop him, to push him away, to
use that knife on him, anything to stop the horror he was inflicting. Anything!
But the alley was deserted, the neighborhood not one where people came running
at the sounds of screams, the knife sharp, the constant reminder near her
throat. All she could do was hiss out at him. "Hurry up and get your thrills
over with, you bastard!"
But instead, he took his time. His fingers slipped between her folds, separating
her to him and he found that horrible nodule of pleasure. Her body shuddered
involuntarily, sending ripples up thru her spine. Before she could stop herself,
the moan slipped thru her lips.
"Oh ya." he whispered. "The fucking innocent. You like that, don't you bitch?
Just like every dirty slut who walks this street."
Inside her mind she screamed out at him, names and vulgar words all fading on
her lips as she suffered under his fingers. Tears built at her eyes, spilling
over only to fall to the ground in silence as soft gasp built in her chest,
knowing, deep in that part of her soul where even she is afraid to look, that
there is truth in his words. The garbage can rocked under her and she realized
she was making it do so as her hips rocked to the special beat of music his
soaked fingers played on her hardening nodule, She whimpered out, a single word
begging for his mercy. "Please."
"Oh you're going to get it, filthy slut, just like you want."
Fear shuddered thru her this time, he didn't understand, he thought she was
pleading for him! Oh gawd, she screamed inside her, oh gawd! no! That wasn't
what she meant. Was it? No. It couldn't have been. No, she wouldn't even
consider it. She let out an anguished cry. Because here she was, sprawled out
over a filthy garbage can where a stranger, a rapist was taking liberties with
her body. She didn't want it. It wasn't her fault! It was his. It was his! But
was it his fault that she was almost panting like the street whore?
His hand jerked away from her cunt to the sound of a sharp moan from her. A moan
of relief? Regret? Her body's needs were clouding her mind. She didn't move as
he pulled away. His left hand still near her throat, the ever present knife
reminding her to be still. He gripped her hair, pulling her back off the garbage
can, where she dropped painfully to her knees before him as he settled in, half
kneeling, half sitting on the other garbage can. "You're going to suck me, fuck
meat." The hand holding the knife slapped at her face, not hard, but he had made
his point. She rested better on her knees, tilting her head, making up her mind.
She knew what she had to do. She had to get this over with. She had to appease
him...not her, and give him what he wants. Then, oh Christ, then she would
appease herself when the cops found him.
The horrible deep know-it-all chuckling filled the air again. "Fucking whore
can't wait." he laughed at her. "Fucking whore is drooling at the thought of
sucking my dick."
Her eyes shot up to his face, her head nodding. "That wasn't it! No! She would
appease him! She wanted to survive this. His fingers gripped her hair tight,
twisting her head back hard and his eyes glared down at her. "So tell me, cheap
whore, what do you charge for back alley blow jobs? Five bucks? Ten?"
"I don't..."
A hard yank at her hair. A yelp. Angry cold eyes, cruel words. "I'd bet it's
five bucks. You're cheap. Ain't that right, fuck meat?"
She nodded as she hated his words, his know-it-all laugh, his menacing eyes, his
fucking knife, she hated him more than anyone she'd ever known as the shiver
growled all the way from her enflamed face to her heated, throbbing cunt. He
leaned over and licked a tear from her cheek.
"Then tell me, dirty whore. Tell me how you charge strange men five bucks for
dark alley blow jobs."
Her chin quivered, she swallowed hard, words burned out of her throat as she
obeyed. "I'm...I'm a dirty whore who charges men five dollars for dark alley
blow jobs."
She could almost see the horrible grin under the ski mask. "Strange men, bitch.
Say it again."
She opened her mouth to speak when he jerked on her captured hair. "Eyes to mine
when you talk."
Her eyes snapped up. A shot ran thru her, horror almost gripping her throat. To
have to look at him as she spoke this vileness was more than even she could
take. Her voice broke as she spoke. "I'm a dirty whore who charges strange men
five dollars for dark alley blow jobs."
He laughed as he released her hair, only to open his pants. Her eyes dropped,
swallowing hard again, chewing on her bottom lip. Then sharply she snapped her
head to the side, looking away. She was not looking, she was not interested in
what was in his pants. But he had noticed her looking, and cupping her cheek
with the hand holding blade, he slowly brought her back to see. He unbuttoned
and unzipped before her eyes, reaching down, all with one hand, and when he
pulled his erection free.
"Look at me and lick your slutty lips, bitch. Show me how much you want my cock
down your filthy throat."
Habits, damn habits of obedience obeyed him more than she did and she found
herself looking up to him, her tongue sliding back and forth wetting her
lipstick coated pursing lips. He snickered, then pulled her head to him.
Instinctively she opened, and his hardness pressed in. She pressed her tongue
down to the bottom of her mouth, perhaps in a moment of defiance and allowed him
the use of her mouth. No more, no less.
"Ohhh, the fuck beast is going to be shy, is she?"
Before she could regret her action, before she could fear what he would do to
her, she felt his foot slide between her knees. Oh nooo! she screamed inside her
head. She had forgotten the fires he'd lit. There was a nudge against her thigh.
He wanted her to spread for him, open herself to his violation. She didn't,
tears blinding her as she tried to figure what to do. He nudged again. Again,
nothing, she couldn't move, she couldn't give that to him. Should he take it,
use her, violate her, abuse her, anything as he wished, she could not stop, but
she would not willingly open herself up to him. She waited for him to force her,
to show her the knife as he had already done so often, to yank her hair, or
something, anything, but he did nothing. He waited. His saliva sheathed cock
sliding in and out of her mouth, his foot moving against her thighs. Her lips
rounded around his cock, the hands at his legs, holding him, balancing herself,
the tension in her thigh muscled beginning to ache as she forced herself to
remain still. But her fight seemed to end when she felt her own juices slither
out of her heat. There must have been a change in her for he saw her defeat.
"Spread for me now, cunt. Show me what a cheap whore you really are." Her
shoulders slumped, her eyes closed as her knees lifted almost against the ground
and her thighs spread. His chuckle burned thru her again as he slid his foot
into her pleasure, lifting, rubbing.
She moaned. Deep from that place she shares with only one, she opened to him
with a single moan. No longer could she deny him his pleasure and her tongue
went to work, licking, suckling, pleasing as she'd been taught.
He moaned. And with that moan her tongue moved faster, her cheeks hollowed just
a bit more, suckling him as he began shoving deeper into her mouth. Her hands
tightened on his legs, working his cock without even realizing her cunt was
riding his foot as fast. She had closed her eyes, she could bare this so lock as
she didn't think of it. But he couldn't give her that haven. "Look at the
fucking whore ride my foot." he laughed. "That's it, ride my foot, fuck meat.
Ride me!"
The shame spurred her on, perhaps a little harder, perhaps even faster against
his foot, and despite that horrible shame, she became even wetter. Her thighs
shivered on either side of his foot, her mouth working him, pumping her face
against his belly, noises, slurping mingled with hungry whimpers. Her body was
too far gone to be able to remember ever having dignity. Somewhere off she heard
the knife clatter to the ground but she didn't care. She didn't care about
anything, about who he was or how he'd taken her, she didn't care about how low
she felt near him, how dirty and cheap he made her feel, she didn't care about
anything except the promising threat of his juices to taste and her own
explosion. Both she knew she needed. A hand wrapped around his body, gripping
his ass, pulling him closer to him as she prepared her throat to take him deeper
into it. His hand slapped hers away and he grabbed her hair and plunged deep
into her throat. She gagged hard, but then he was out, fucking again at her
mouth. No longer was she blowing him, he was fucking her, using her mouth as he
would any orifice of her body and he pounded back and forth. She noticed he was
talking and she listened.
"...fucking whore, dirty cheap street whore needs to feed on cum, I should cum
on your face and make you go back out there on the street..." Her face enflamed.
Her hips bucking against his foot, one hand gripping at her nipple, twisting it,
pulling until she shook in pain and pleasure. She never could handle a man
cumming on her face. The only time she'd ever endured it was as a harsh
punishment. She found herself wondering if he would. If he would complete her
shame this night. Bucking hips matching fucked face, pumping leading to grinding
until she felt him throb hard in her mouth. She knew only seconds till she'd
taste his seed. Her body was tensing, tingling in ways that promised her own
rising climax. But then he gripped her hair, yanking back hard, yanking his cock
from her mouth and exploded. The first shot burst back into her open mouth, the
next to her cheek. At that moment she could have died of total and complete
horrible shame as a cheap five dollar street whore getting used behind the
filthy garbage by a stranger, but instead of dying, she exploded. Her body
shuddered and rocked, she howled loudly as the cum continued to shoot at her
face, her hair, across closed eyes, coating her and marking her. Then she was
done, her body falling back to her heels, gasping heavily for lost air, and
slowly, reality returned to her. Tears began again, mingling in with the cum.
Carefully, she was wiping it from her eyes. He reached down, gripping her arm
tightly and pulled her to her feet, despite her jello-y legs. He gripped her
hair tightly, eyes on hers. She felt the little pinpricks of pain as her yanked
hair twisted her head. The hand on her back pressed her into him and for a
moment she thought he would kiss her. Cum faced and all, would he kiss her?
His hand reached up, touching the top of the ski mask. He pulls it up. And off.
And he said, "You forgot to ask to cum, bitch."
She looked into the eyes of her Master, her lover, her trainer. The gasp was
almost as loud as her moans and he smiled. She began to cry harder, louder,
shaking harder. She was safe, she safe. No knife, no threat, no fear, no rapist,
she was safe. She was His and she was safe. He yanked her hair, grabbing her
attention.
"You are mine. I will never put you into a dangerous or risky situation. I was
never more than 5 feet away from you in this alley, hiding in the shadows. Trust
me. Trust me with your body, your heart, even, as I've shown tonight, your
fantasies. Trust me for I am your Master." Her eyes looked deep into his and she
knew at that moment, no one had ever spoken anything more true. She was His. And
she could trust him. Her tears faded as quickly as they'd arrived and she
offered him a smile. "I do Master."
He returned her smiles.
"Good. Very good. Now turn around. You are walking home with my cum all over you
as punishment for cumming without asking...then I'm going to fuck you like we
both have earned."
