All Aboard

You stand awkwardly with your hips against the subway pole, trying to turn away from the rest of the car. Unfortunately, after your hotel the subway line heads through the business district. The car begins to fill up with people moving through their day. Luckily for you, they are all buried in scrolling their phones or intentionally not making eye contact with anyone else. This city is toxic and unfriendly, but for the moment that seems to be working in your favor.

A group of young men climb on, all in suits and staggering slightly as the train rocks its way down the line. Clearly they’ve been enjoying the fabled Three Martini Lunches that Samia had joked about as you flew over. They pass by you, each of them giving you a quick hungry side eye as they do. The last one lingers slightly longer and smiles even bigger. He’s the shortest of the group - though still taller than you - and he has long black hair which reaches the collar of his grey suit. He stumbles as the train rounds a corner and crashes into you, knocking you against the pole again and slightly knocking the wind out of you. He has to reach around and grab the pole near your head to steady himself, but he is in no rush to take his weight off you.

“Ss–ss-s-sorry” He slurs. His head is nearly resting on your shoulders and the booze on his breath is overpowering at this distance.

“That’s… ok” You try to push back and give yourself a little space. “Just please climb off of me.”

He doesn’t move, either ignoring you or too drunk to make out what you asked. “You’re fucking hot…” He says.

“Get. Off.” You drive your elbow into his stomach. You can’t put much **** into it with your hand chained to the pole, but your meaning can’t be mistaken now. He looks up at you, his eyes suddenly clear.

He scoffs. “Can’t even take a compliment. Running from any kind of pleasure. You really are a stuck up prude, Jasmine.”

Your blood chills instantly at the mention of your name. Between that and the disappearance of the man’s drunken slur…

“Are you… her?” You try to whisper just loud enough to be heard over the cacophony of the train, but you still worry it’s loud enough for everyone to hear. “From the train last night?”

“Her… him… it…” The man says. “I can be anything or anyone I want to be now. Like her maybe.” He reaches over your shoulder to point down the car. A young dark-skinned woman is listening to music on a pair of headphones. Her head suddenly jerks up and looks at you, and she slowly runs her tongue around her lips. “Or him.” The man behind you points at an older man reading a book. The old man whips his head around and continues the gesture unbroken. “Or-”

“I get it.” You cut him off quickly, realizing too late that just as it was at the hotel - stopping him was a huge mistake. The man abruptly grabs your buttcheek and squeezes angrily. Only his body is blocking the full car from seeing him grope you like this. You have to grit your teeth to keep from yelling out as he roughly molests you.

“You don’t get it, or you’d stop being such a bitch.” He moves his hand and you feel that same disquieting sensation that you felt when he placed the chains on you… only it isn’t followed by pain. When he pulls his hand around to show you, he is holding your panties in his hand, which he somehow removed without disturbing your jeans.

“Wait-” You start to say, but your jaw locks open as he takes control of it. You can do nothing to resist as he forces your own underwear into your mouth, gagging you and forcing you to taste your own excitement on the soft fabric. You can’t even close your mouth enough to cover it, and you just know that anyone who sees you will be able to tell what you’re doing. The abject shame of it is burning you up inside.

“UNH UNH!” You shake your head furiously and protest through the gag. This only seems to upset him further.

“All you’ve ever said is ‘No,’ Jasmine. So I’m taking that off the table. You’re having some fun if I have to **** it down your throat.” The demon - or whatever it is - waves to the man’s drunken buddies, who have congregated at the back of the car. They wander back up with confused looks on their faces. The men huddle around you, pressing against you on all sides and forming a semi-circle that blocks the view from the rest of the car.

“What’s with her, bro?” One of the man’s drunken friends asked.

“She needs to learn a lesson about finishing what she started.” The demon responded. Then he unbuttoned your jeans and yanked them down to your knees, baring your lower half to the men around you. You feel your chained hand under his control again, sliding into your now exposed pussy lips. You start to stroke your clit even more urgently, and the chain is making the feelings even more intense. The heat between your legs never really dissipated but it’s returning with a fury now, regardless of his influence.

“Where do you even find these whores, bro?”

You huff angrily into the gag, but the demon doesn’t answer. Instead, he reaches under your shirt and grabs your tit, flicking and tugging on the nipple ring. Whether magic was involved or not, the small act seems to jolt the rest of the men into action. Before you can blink, you have their hands swarming you from all sides. They are grabbing your ass, stroking your thighs, caressing your hips, tugging on your nipple chain, sliding into your pussy, groping your tits… You had felt a few cheeky pinches before on the few times you’d let your friends talk you into a party or a nightclub, but this was much much more than you’d ever experienced or even imagined.

“We’re getting off at Market Street.” He whispers to you, gesturing to the route map on the wall. It’s only a few stops away. He doesn’t expand on the threat, but he doesn’t need to - as depraved as you feel touching yourself in front of these men, right now they are shielding you from the view of everyone else. Once they left the train…

It was only earlier today you fled into the woods to keep your friend from seeing you like this, and if you were trapped on the train, chained to a pole and **** to put on a degrading spectacle like this… And that assumed the demon didn’t make it worse.

The prospect made you feel hotter and more terrified than you’d been in your entire life.

The conductor called out the upcoming stop and that reminded you of the ticking clock. You pushed your hips forward into the hand he was controlling, and between that and the hands taking liberties with every other part of your body, you let yourself be shoved closer and closer to a massive climax. And not just any climax, but your first climax. One you’d denied yourself so many times. All you’ve ever said is ‘No’, Jasmine. The demon’s voice echoes in your brain. Finally, you allow yourself to say Yes.

When it hits you, it hits you furiously, nearly enough to make your legs collapse out from under you. If not for the group of men holding you up by grabbing you on every piece of exposed flesh, you might have crumpled to the floor of the train car.

“Market Street.” The conductor calls. “Change trains here to all Northbound lines and the surface rail.”

The doors open just as an express is roaring through on an adjacent platform, forcing a breeze through the car. As the guys pull back, this wind blows through your hair and across your bare privates.

“HHHH! HHHH!” You yell to the demon with wide eyes. But when you meet his face, it looks entirely ‘normal’ again and back to its intoxicated state. The others all turn and stagger away, as if completely forgetting what they’d just done to you and indeed failing to even notice you were still there. Two of them push towards the platform right through you, knocking you forward. As you have your pants around your knees, you end up falling forwards out the train door. You land face down on the platform with your bare ass stuck up in the air and masses of commuters stepping over and around you. None bother to help you up, though many have choice words for the kind of woman who’d end up in that position.

The excruciating humiliation of the moment is only surpassed by the happy realization that you are free of the train pole. The chain connecting your hand to your clit seems to have lengthened by several inches, allowing you to pull the pants up and stuff your hand in your pocket. You are now several stops away from your hotel but you can’t possibly bring yourself to try the train again. You run off as fast as you can up the stairs and out onto the streets.