I cursed under my breath as the Departures board showed my train would arrive at “Cancelled”. The other trains were running fine, why was it mine - and only mine - that had to have the problem? I would have stamped my foot too, but for the loaded daysack on my back and heavy hardcase luggage trailing behind me.
The conference would start tomorrow morning. I had to leave work early to make it to the station, ready to travel. I still wore my efficient, professional trouser suit (I would call it clean and crisp, but after nearly 14 hours wearing it, it was much less so). This was a big event, and for the first time I was giving a presentation on the latest work methods my department were implementing. So, I was booked in to the hotel for the night before as well, just to make sure I had time to review everything properly and make the very best impression before the schedule began.
I had to make three changes on my scheduled trip. Now the odious little man at the ticket desk told me I would have to make an extra change, and my pre-booked seat was no longer valid. I smiled politely and thanked him for his help nonetheless, and went to the platform for the next train. There weren’t many people waiting, at least. It was late enough that it was well past the rush hour and the wrong time of year for holiday makers. Just a few people off to conferences like I was, I supposed.
To top it all off, as I heaved my luggage onto the train, the top button of my blouse burst! There was nothing I could do about it but it was embarrassing. I saw my reflection in the window of the seat I eventually found. I looked like a slutty secretary! Not the professional 30-year-old I really am.
I glared at the man sitting opposite, who had followed me onto the train from the platform, when I noticed him leering at my full bosom now peeking from my wardrobe malfunction. His black beard looked unkempt and his grey suit was crumpled and looked to have been worn a few more times than its intended lifespan. The shirt was tieless and open at the top, but he probably thought he was too important to be bothered with little things like neatness, personal care or proper presentation. But he turned his dark eyes back to the window and I turned my own scowl towards mine and gazed at the platform as it started to drift past, our train gathering speed.
A handful of people who needed the same diversion as I stood scattered, looking as lost as I felt, along the platform at the change station. A wait where none had been expected. Nothing to do, nothing to say. Each an isolated blob of life in the sodium lights. With another 20 minutes until the new train was due, I decided to use the loo and give myself a chance freshen up.
I felt him behind me as soon as I stepped into the Ladies. That moment of terror when you’re aware of someone right in your blindspot and you have to turn to see who’s there. Usually, it’s just a creepy sense of danger, and actually harmless. This time before I could respond to the sensation, he shoved my backpack hard. The weight of my books and refreshments were enough to ruin my sense of balance. The luggage clattered to the floor as I fell forwards. His weight followed on top of me, crouching down to use my bag to pin me down. He rolled me over so the bag was under my back and I saw it was the same man from the train. I opened my mouth to cry out but he pressed his hand over it and forced my head right back. Even as he held it there, his other hand worked at the fastening of my trousers.
“I know you want it really, you stuck up bitch,” he snarled, “You all do really. Just need someone with the guts to take it!” He released my mouth briefly to yank my trousers and panties down around my thighs. I was too shocked to make any noise but I could see his bulge already when I lifted my head. He crouched low over me so that, even clothed, his cock was barely a centimetre away. His hand gripped my throat and I froze. I could feel his other hand fumbling with his own trousers now. I shook my head in tiny gestures of “no”, begging him with my eyes but not daring to make a sound. He had total control over me at that moment. I could feel the tears already forming.
I sobbed audibly as I felt his long, meaty shaft force into my cunt. Of course it was wet, the body does what it can to protect itself.
“Mmm, nice and slick! You’ve been gagging for this, haven’t you, bitch?” He stabbed hard with his cock, determined to hurt me, and tore open another button on my blouse. “Yeah, look at those gorgeous tits! Can’t keep ‘em to yourself, can you?” He started to fuck me, heedless of my objections and again holding my neck and forcing my head back. I rocked on my backpack as he thrust again and again, my cunt feeling torn and bruised by his violent assault. I whimpered “Stop!” but of course he ignored me.
I heard the station announcer announce the connecting train and at that moment he started to come. I felt him spasm and the hot, sticky, slimy semen gush into my unprotected cunt. He spasmed again, his cock spitting forth another dose, before he leaned right the way down to kiss my lips.
“Got to go, bitch. Hope you have someone to remember me by in 9 months!” He pulled up my panties to catch the come oozing from my battered hole, waved, and left still doing up his flies. I wept for a moment but I could already hear my train approaching and I couldn’t miss it. I had no choice. I pulled up my trousers and grabbed my suitcase and hurried to the platform just in time to catch the train. My rapist wasn’t on the same carriage, but it didn’t matter. I could still feel his “gift” squelch in my seat for the rest of the journey.
