Rush Hour

This is something I wrote purely because it was in me to write it. Stemming as it did from a meeting with someone about 2 years ago, the scent of his want yet fear I can still recall to this day.


Rushing down to the tube platform you’re jostled, you catch my eye and I apologise briefly as you rush past, missing that critical train that means you’ll miss that onward connection and any chance of making home tonight.  I watch as you resign yourself to defeat, letting out the sigh of hopelessness as you wonder whether to hunt a hotel here or further on.

You will be my prey.

My voice interrupts your thoughts, ‘cheer up’ I say, ‘there’ll be another in a few mins’, you grin awkwardly, noticing my gaze is now taking you in, your chest heaving with the exertion of running, your professional shirt looks anything but with buttons having opened to reveal the hint of the lace topped top underneath, I smile knowingly at you, either a sissy or a sub’s obedient, or a general cross dresser, either way playing with you will be fun I think.

You raise your hands to re-button, muttering polite curses about train delays that mean you are now stranded here in London for the night and without warning, I take your wrist firmly in my hand admiring your cuff links audibly but whispering between sentences that your chest looks far better shown as it is. Your shock is palpable but stifled as we hear the rumble of a train in the tunnel. I release your hand and, securing our space on the platform, prepare to fight for a position on the incoming crowded train. You dare not even look at me now, did you miss hear me you wonder?

The inbound train is as packed as the last, fighting silently for your little space you don’t immediately react to the feel of a hand across your buttocks, an inconsequential movement as someone else tries hard to balance as the train rocks across the tracks. The second touch isn’t accidental. Someone’s hand is quite deliberately running slowly and firmly across the rise of your cheeks to the crack, and back upwards to your hip. It Is so crowded you can’t turn properly or move away, in trying you miss time it taking a shuffle just as the train lurches into the next station and the mass of people move around you. Falling slightly forward an arm grips you around your waist holding you upright, pulling you into a masculine grip but a body that is clearly female, a body who’s hand has swiftly moved to your cock a splayed hand cupping it and your balls expertly. The doors have opened the mass around you moves, people exiting, you try to be one but the familiar voice who’s arm is now across your stomach, reminds you you have to find a hotel and those around this station will be unsuitable for a sissy alone. The instant realisation that it’s the woman who pretended to admire your cuff links, it is her breath now against your neck making the perspiration from the heat of the train tingle.

The train rumbles on to the next station lurching again at the bend of a tunnel sending you forward so that your cheek collides painfully with the curve of the door, an involuntary groan escapes you, ‘umm’ your female captor says, ‘pain makes you sound worth fucking I must remember that’. Just as suddenly the train takes the next bend sending the carriage violently in the opposite direction and you find yourself being spun by hands on your hips and just as quickly your balls are gripped by the woman who’s face is innocently staring up at you, ‘is this pantyhose I feel under here whoreboy?’ as she lays her face against yours her body shielding from sight a deturmined hand pulling at an already hardening shaft. You open your mouth to speak and find only the air of your aftershave and her lips softly nibbling your upper lip. The light of the next station floods the dimly lit carriage, now you feel panicked by this wanton stranger, your desperation to release yourself from your growing arousal makes you want to get off here no matter what.

The doors beep you struggle to step back, her arms grip you more tightly, the hand that has carressed you now cups the back of your head pulling your mouth towards her ever more demanding kisses, some one trying to enter the carriage pushes you and you feel yourself pressed against her, feeling her breasts against you recognising the hardness now straining in your trousers as a man in the early stages of passionate arousal.

Again the doors shut and the train rumbles on, her cheek against yours, arms still holding you close, ‘so tell me are you a sissy or a sub?’ her voice is soft but commanding, the voice you imagined when you played with that woman on twitter in your fantsay world of female control. You struggle to utter the words ‘neither, I, I’m,, it’s just’, speech becomes impossible when a hand has unzipped you and is now forcefully massaging precum out of your cock isn’t it.

You realise how hot and sweaty you’ve become this all feels horrid but strangely, you don’t feel scared, just confused and oddly tantalised. ‘It’s our stop next’ she murmurs pushing your hard cock back and partially zipping the fly, ‘Our stop?’ you try to make your voice sound sarcastic and disinterested but hear instead a tone of mild interest escape. ‘Yes our stop, time for you to relax, shower and change, there must be things in that case of yours more restful to the eye than this business suit’, as she finishes speaking she seeks out your lips soft roving kisses exploring the fullness of your mouth, tracing the outline of today’s stubble seductively with her tongue. You know you should push yourself away from her, do something to protect yourself and escape but you’re unable to, the kiss is so gentle yet commanding, pulling you into a sensual world such as fantasies are made of.

Leaving the heat of the underground to be greeted by grey clouds and a chilly breeze, acts like a cold shower on your senses vaulting you into reality, as the coldness of the breeze hits the persperation on your skin so your nipples tighten, looking down in shock you realise she has opened two more buttons without you feeling a thing the satin and lace top clearly visible under your shirt, stray hairs making the reality of your masculinity even more obvious to the people around. From her gaze of pleasure at your stunned face as hers rises to meet yours, she’s enjoying what she sees and the confusion and embrassment you feel. Your case in one hand she takes the other and pulls you to a waiting taxi, ‘Doubletree Hilton just by Southampton Row’ sitting she pulls you next to her closely her arm linked through yours her leg and sharp heels across your calf locking you against the seat. still you say nothing, interrogating yourself, ‘why don’t I do something why don’t I just push her away she’s only a woman for Christs sake!’ You hate the way the driver looks at you in his rear view mirror taking in your exposed chest, dishevelled fly half undone semi erect cock. You look like a too old ladyboy, a half finished tranny, as if she reads your mind she leans into you her hand openly stroking your crotch for the benefit of the driver and whispers none too quietly ‘I am so looking forward to using you my dear little fuck toy, unless you displease me in which case I will tear your arse apart’.

The truth of the matter is you’re not really scared, are you.

You’re only in danger of surrendering to me, my lips, my voice, my presence that excites you, submission to a total stranger simply because  my voice, my thoughts, my sensual hints of more have crawled under your skin seeped into your brain and enslaved you.

We arrive and, having greeted the doorman as a known entity, I lead you to the lifts, ascending to the 7th floor where, after a few turns we arrive at a door set away from the main corridor. From my pocket I take out the electronic key and usher you ahead of me into the room.

The room is spacious, white washed, beech furniture and the luxurious purple trimmings give a sense of airiness and peace. Turning I face you, only for the briefest of moments, then my hands are either side of your face and willingly, wantonly, I step forward my mouth seeking yours with the same sensual passion I see in your eyes my hands slipping your jacket from your shoulders. It seems as though we kiss forever, sometimes like animals devouring each other, then as soft as dandelion seeds falling to earth, hands that pull at zips, struggle with buttons, touch bare flesh with desire and longing and lust. I undress you save for the cami top and stockings, your trousers a crumpled heap around your ankles.  Standing back holding your hands spreading your arms wide to view you all the more clearly, I see you blushing suddenly acutely aware that the scent of your precum is rising, mingling with your body heat and the last vestiges of that days aftershave.

Releasing your hands I turn you to face the bed and bend you spreading your legs wide your ankles straining against the trousers around them wedging myself between your thighs, one hand sliding downwards across your buttocks under the crack of your arse and, ‘Oh God’ you murmur, pushing your sissy panties asside and tugging roughly at your aroused cock and stiffening balls. My other hand traces the line of your spine twisting the cami top around my fingers pulling it taut against your felsh, your hardening nipples reacting to the sensual pleasure of the confinement. My expert hand brings you to the very edge of your explosion, and I stop. ‘Please!’ I can sense how much you hate the begging tone in your voice, the way the head of your cock pulsing, desperately trying to connect with my hand again, I love the feeling of the want in you and how much power that gives me to tease, use, humiliate and control you. ‘No, my little fuck slut, you need to learn patience, to wait is to enjoy’, leaving you bent over the end of the bed I undress myself behind you a swift smack to your balls making them swing the moment you appear to move. Moving to the head of the bed I spread my legs you see my fingers playing with my clit, pulling the hood back to expose the head, my own creamy cum oozing over my fingers. I make you watch me bring myself to orgasm feeding it to you from my fingers.

It is easy to see you are again close to your own desperately soght release, but I think you can wait some more, ‘shower first’ I tell you, ‘I’ll order some room service, then I might, just might my liitle fuck slut, play with you some more’.

In the bathroom I prepare the shower, fetching your toiletries from the case, watching you roll down your stockings enjoying the sight of your cock hard the head shiny with drips of cum. Before you can move I have pushed you against the wall raised one leg on the side of the bath forced your cock inside me, one hand pinching and pulling your nipples the shock of cold tiles against your back making you arch which forces your cock deeper into my tight wet demanding cunt. The wave is coming, I can feel myself tighening my muscles, your hands grasping my buttocks so you can ram me harder, your mouth nibbling, biting my neck. ‘please, please, Dear God make me cum!’ you beg, there is no mistaking the desperation in your voice, the slut released wants to be fucked.

Slapping your face hard the shock halts you in your tracks as I pull away watching you make those last thrusting movements before you cum in mid air grabbing and squeezing your own balls forcing every last drop of that so longed for explosion out of them. Dispassionately as I run my fingers across your face feeling and enjoying the heat and redness of the slap mark now showing on you.  ‘begin to wash yourself but not your cock balls or arse, I will watch to ensure they are treated appropriately’ and leaving you to your confusion, I leave you alone, for now ………………………


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