Marking Me As Used

When he pulls back the skin is still only red but I know in a matter of moments it'll be an angry purple bruise. A hickey, one in a place that is unmistakably given to me by a lover and there are too many lovers I know who have seen that patch of skin too recently.

I can hide it with clothing, sure. But anyone who gets beneath that loose tanktop I picked out for the day will see it. Hell, if I'm being honest then I'll admit that it's high enough that even if I twist right that section of myself will be exposed.

I will be exposed.

God, what am I doing here?

"Having fun," I mumble to myself.

"Oh yes girlie," he mistakes my words for a question, "I'm having so much fun with you. Such a sweet little active participant."

"You've got me tied up and tied down," I wiggle and vainly pull at his grip on me, "I don't exactly have a choice."

But he shakes his head, still holding me but denying me any chance to deny it.

"You want it," he sneers.

"Fuck you," I reply.

He pulls me in and I gasp. He drags me to him and I am nearly crushed against him once more and the now tender skin of my breasts brush against his shirt and his corpulent torso and I gasp, shuddering as a wave of pleasure rushes over me.

"You want it," he snarls, his eyes narrowed and so close to mine.

I don't reply, not immediately at least. I swallow and I try to fight it, try to deny it. I try to figure out a way to keep from having to admit it to him even if every part of me is clearly overcome from the pleasure.

"Don't," I say instead, pleading with him, "Please."

"Sweet little thing," he mocks me in a sing-song voice, "Cute little girl next door, right? That's the way you play it? A tease but too innocent to know it? A practically virginal little thing, too naive to even know what you're doing. Right?

"Want people to think you've never spread your legs? Want people to believe you've never had a cock in your cunt? Want all the boys to want you, thinking that you'll let them be your first?"

"I am," I pout, knowing that he won't believe me even if it is the truth, "I am a virgin."

He laughs loud and boisterous, then mocks me again, this time with a poor impression of my voice, "Use me roughly, strange older cabby man. I want you to be in control. I want you to fuck my face. I totally forgot my fucking wallet. That isn't a lie."

"It isn't," I plead with him, "I'm not-"

"You fucking love it," he snarls, his grip tightening as I cry out instead, tears coming to my eyes and a thrill coming to my belly, "You fucking love the way I hurt you. Admit it."

But I don't know how. I don't know if I can. I don't know...

He does.

He may not be a good man. He may not be a young man. He may not have all the details right but he knows one thing.

He knows how to manipulate me just right.

And in this moment that means letting me go. It means releasing his hold on me and pushing me back, practically throwing me to my seat across the cab before jamming his finger into the display showing the pitiful sum that I owe him.

"This is paid," he says, "I had my fun, don't need to get off to finish. Breaking you like that was a whole lot of fun, girlie. So you're done. Paid in full."

I tremble, not knowing what's happening here. Breathing heavily I see a wicked cruel grin break across his face as he leans back and grasps his cock, waggling it at me.

"But we don't have to be done, if you don't want to. Up to you now, girlie."

"Please," I whisper, but I get no mercy from him.

"Your choice," he shakes his head, leaving it up to me, "Your debt is paid, you can dress and go. Or you can come over here and show me how much you need this cock of mine."

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