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."
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