Interludes of a Dirty Romantic 8/18/12

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The Writer

The train was busy as usual with the crush of bodies fighting for space, looking to claim their own little oasis of calm among the throng. You barely glance up from the book you read, as you exchange brief pleasantries over the sound of your music player and the man who claims the space next to you settles down.

You suppress a groan as his solid frame squeezes you against the side of the train, biting your lip hard as he then proceeds to remove a laptop and further invade your space. Obviously sensing your tension, he looks sideways with an apologetic smile, and for a second, his charming face and the friendly glint in his eyes almost overcomes your frustration.

You dive once more into the pages of your book, looking to escape the crush of reality and the arms digging in to your side. However you become quickly bored with the predictable storyline and find yourself increasingly distracted by the man’s aftershave which has slowly filtered into your awareness. The expensive scent sends you off on a pleasant daydream and you idly glance across at the laptop screen next to you, watching the words dance across the white expanse.

You suddenly catch your breath as the typed words penetrate your brain and sink in:

. . . sliding inside her wet cunt . . .
. . . arms held taut as he plunges his cock deep inside . . .
. . . screams with rage as she feels herself stretched to her limits . . .
Does this turn you on?

You stop at the last sentence, realising his fingers have stopped dancing across the keys, the cursor blinks at you, flashing accusingly, demanding a response. You glance away quickly, staring at the green blur of trees rushing by.

You feel your cheeks flush and much to your surprise, you feel a stirring in your belly – a hot sting of desire between your thighs. Suddenly, his body pressed against yours in the crush of the cramped train takes on a new meaning, his closeness not something you can block out.

Your mind spins; what do you do? Carry on as if you hadn’t seen the words and disappear once more behind a wall of dull words? A wild impulse grabs you. The endless monotony of your life pushes you forward and his smile flashes across your mind finally delivering you your answer. You know what you really want.

Slowly, you turn back. You answer by placing your book down and once more face his screen. More words appear on the screen, almost taunting you.

Good girl. I’m pleased.

Simple words, but you feel your cheeks flush once again, worried that every other person on the train knows what has just passed between you both, and all eyes are focused on you.

The words flash across the screen as his fingers tap across the keyboard in an assured and confident fashion, the expensive watch on his wrist, beneath his crisp white cuff, clatters in time with the tracks which run beneath you both.

I am going to fuck you. Just with my words for
now, they will invade your mind, like my fingers
will eventually invade  your cunt. But for now,
they will be enough.

You feel your heart race, the words excite you in a way the books you read never have.

I will make you cum, now, on this train, while
you sit  here surrounded by all these people and
the only one who knows will be me.

You catch your breath, the mix of his shear arrogance and confidence intrigue you. Fuck it, who are you kidding? This is a massive turn on, always has been. His whole approach has you wet, hot, and squirming in your seat.

Although I’m sitting next to you and I
could reach  over now, slide my hands up
your leg and feel how wet and ready you
are for my cock, I won’t need to. The only
way I will touch you now is with what I write here.

Damn it, how does he know? How can he be so sure? You glance at him for a moment and his self-assurance is evident in the way he holds himself; his well-cared features suggesting an authority and a power you hadn’t noticed before. You catch yourself at the thought, realising you are subconsciously grinding your hips, trying to find some relief.

And when I’m finished here, when my words have
fucked your mind, bent it, twisted it, forced it to
succumb to my will; you will need me to fuck you.
You will beg me to take you. You will get off this
train with me and you will be on your knees
taking my cock in your mouth, forcing my hands
inside your cunt.

You feel another flush of heat wash over you, your skin burns hot; you can feel the dampness between your legs spread, your knickers soaked. Oh, God, what is he doing? How can he push my buttons like this?

You watch his fingers begin to flash across the keyboard again, and you imagine how they would play on your body, how it would feel as he crushed your nipples between them. You breathe still faster as you imagine those fingers sliding inside you, spreading you, discovering you, making you live.

We are going to find an alleyway; the pain
will be  delicious as you slam up against the
cold bricks. Your world will become mine – my
hands in your hair, pulling you to me, my hands lifting your skirt, forcing you wide, fingers
tasting that pretty little cunt of yours.

You bite your lip, stiflingly a little yelp, as his words and the images flashing through your mind blend into one, forcing your body to respond. Shifting slightly, you glance around the carriage, convinced everyone must be watching, alerted by the peaks of your nipples pushing through your thin top.

I slide my tie from my neck, as I spin you
around by your hair, the bricks cooling against
your hot skin. You feel my hands on your wrists,
vices around delicate  limbs. You shout as I
pull them hard behind you. I delight as you
finally start to struggle a little against me,
as the  silk slips around your wrists and
binds you tight, harsh. I know your thoughts.
Your worry surfaces. What have you done?
Not you . . . this is not you.

Panting, desperate, you dare not look away; this is what you have dreamed of on those quiet nights alone but never dared admit to yourself. You have always denied yourself these thoughts in the daylight, burying the memory in the morning, no matter how delicious the remnant of the dream. And yet as you sit here now, in public, surrounded by people, this stranger has forced open this little locked box inside you.

Panicked, you turn away for a moment, looking for solace and understanding in the scene rushing past and finding nothing. But your body aches for this, your mind screams for more and the growing dampness between your legs threatens to declare that need to the world. Despite the fear which courses through you, you find yourself drawn back to the light of his screen. You turn back slowly and continue reading.

But you also know it is way too late for doubt.
You are mine. I have your body. I’m too strong,
too heavy.  Each breath you try to draw now
is a strain, each  painful expansion of your
ribs against my weight just another reminder
of how helpless you really are. The silk cutting
against your wrists just underlines that fact.
I’m just waiting for you to realise that and
then I’m going to take you. Once I know you
are full of despair at what you have done,
how far you are away from your safe harbour,
that is when  I’m going to fuck you for the first time.

The world shrinks around you. There is nothing else now, no other sounds, no voices, no crush of bodies, just the glowing words, the burning need deep within you and your own wet heat slick beneath your clothes. You are no longer in control and sit mesmerised as he continues to type.

And even though you know my intentions – even
though I have revealed to you how I will abuse
you, treat you, use you; you will still follow me
off this train. Even though I scare you to your
core, even though you fear me, fear that I know
the real you better than you have ever admitted
to yourself, you will follow. Because I have your
mind now. I know it, the slut inside you knows
it, and the only one who seems to be waking up
to the fact is you.

You reread those final words repeatedly until they begin to swim in front of your eyes. You reach up to rub your tired eyes, instead finding you are brushing away tears you never knew were there. You slump back in the seat, its hardness your only anchor to reality – a small comfort as you feel the rest of your world drop away. You look back. You can’t stop now. You are too far gone. You know he is right. He is going to be inside you, and you will let him take you. You do the only thing you can and concentrate on the words before you once again.

And when I finally give you my cock, when I
finally push deep inside you, when you feel my
heat within you for the first time, we both know
you will be screaming for me to take you harder,
deeper, anyway I want. You will cum for me
screaming my name, which I will whisper in your
ear for the first time when your cunt clenches
around my cock, drawing me deeper inside you
and I drip words in to your mind.

The sound escapes your throat before you realise. Your body betrays you with a quiver, thighs quaking, legs shaking. An electric sensation sweeps through you. Lost now, abandoned to your fate, you close your eyes, grasp the physical reaction, and squeeze your legs together. The animal growl deep at the back of your throat draws unwanted attention, but you don’t give a fuck. This is the most alive you have ever been, even though you are petrified on where this is leading.

The train slows and the movement around you brings you back to now. You open your eyes again as the waves subside and glance back only to find the seat empty.

No.

Grabbing your bag, your book hits the floor, its dull words long forgotten, the sharp delicious pain of the door hitting the flat of your hand as you push the closing door back, a faint prelude of what is to come.

As you squeeze through the closing door, your heart is racing, fearing you are too late. You have missed him, gone forever. Your body still shimmers inside from the feeling he created with his words, you know you want to feel it again. You know you need his words and hands.

Even while pushing through the crowd, his fingers swim through your mind, moving from his keyboard to your body. Those fingers which played across the keys so deftly, find ways to seduce you, and melt your body through mere brushes of a fingertip.

Despite the urgency in your search, you lose yourself for a moment to these thoughts. You envision his strong fingers on you, a firm grip applied softly. Confident strokes sweep across your skin, soft thighs parted by his strength. Goosebumps rise with the hair on your neck as your body reacts to his phantom touch. Once more, you feel your pussy flood, waiting and ready for those ghostly fingers to slip inside your willing flesh.

You stop while the world continues to move around you. As you stand there imagining the feel of his fingers plunging inside you, people push past you on their way home. You gasp aloud at the thought of the power in his grip, how his fingers would curl inside you. Dreaming of his harsh touch, needing to feel them push their way deep inside you, finding that spot which vibrates through your body.

The fingers on the back of your neck shock you back to now, rough skin clasps you, tilting your head to the side, the grip almost rough.

“Follow.”

A single word, growled in your ear, his presence heavy behind you creates further menace in that short utterance. He moves past you with no further word, not even glancing back to see if you are pursuing him. You stand there stunned. What the fuck am I doing? Why did I get off the train? Is this even real? Am I dreaming, still asleep on the train being gently rocked by the rocking journey over the tracks?

As you watch his broad shoulders recede along the platform, the sharp pain of fingers pinching your arm moves your feet forward. So not dreaming then but mad, surely mad. Up until this moment, your life had been safe, sure, planned. You had always been comfortable, happy in your life, not dull, just normal, mundane, everyday - no different from the hundreds of others who crowded onto your train every morning.

So why now? Why this madness inside your head? Where has this hunger deep in your belly come from? The thoughts tumble through your mind even as you follow the stranger’s echoing footsteps down the platform.

Turning the corner with the red light of dusk coating the surrounding buildings as you leave the station, it hits you. You feel alive, for the first time since you can remember, you feel. Aware of everything: all the sights, sounds, and feelings hitting you are magnified, more than real.

Every beat of your heart ricochets within your chest, the ruddy coating of light dusting the grime covered buildings, the clack of your own heels bouncing from the high walls, a distant siren cutting through the growing dusk. A dark alleyway materialises on your right.

A burst of pain and shock cannons through your body, as you are pulled into the alleyway and slammed against the wall. A startled shout is forced from your lips, even as a hand clamps over your mouth. You drop your bag as fingers dig so deep into your arm, bruises rise in response. The cold brick seeps through your jacket as his bulk bears down on you. His breath hot against your neck, his cock hard and straining against your thigh.

You stand there slightly stunned by the sudden shift in speed. Trying to readjust to the change in events, the world slipping even further from your control. You can feel one of his hands begin to explore you, tracing an aggressive line along your leg, forcing them apart. Your body is running away from you. You know your soaking, wet thighs will betray you if he chooses to search there.

He leans into you, brushing his lips against your ear as he speaks for the first time since that single utterance on the station platform.

“Choose now. Stay or go.”

And with those words, he shifts your world around again. His hands release their grip on your arm, but his fingers slide further along your leg and clamp around your traitorous cunt. As his fingers brush your drenched lips, threatening to invade but holding instead at a maddening distance, time slows and you are torn: body, mind, and animal all fighting for dominance.

Intrigued, you watch the struggle as if from a distance. The physical need to abandon everything, to open fully, and be taken fighting against your mind, raging at you to run, get away and hide from the fear building inside you. And all the while, an animal is growing deep inside you, driven wild by the whiplash of his words and deeds, prepared to fight back, to claw and bite, to take control, to fuck and rut.

As the fight rages on inside, you remain frozen, feeling like an outside observer, studying from the sidelines, watching as he slides a finger along your dripping pussy, bringing it to his mouth, tasting you slowly, carefully. His fingers describe an elegant arc, slowly travelling back from his lips to your waiting core.

His fingertip comes to rest against your glitter coated lips, lightly like a butterfly searching and testing an unfamiliar flower. It is this moment, so delicate, so different from every other action he has taken since he sat next to you, that tips the scales.

The animal inside you rears up, grabs his hand and crushes the butterfly, forcing him deep inside, forcing your hips forward to engulf his fingers. Your hand locks behind his head pulling him into you, mouth attacking his, tongue forcing its way past his lips to taste him for the first time.

For a fraction of a second, he is caught off guard, almost stumbling backwards at your counterattack. Despite your efforts to drive forward, you feel his power returning, hands quickly clamping to your sides, his fingers ripping from their fleshy tomb. He spins you round, just as his written words promised he would.

Breathing hard, you stand there panting – hands held tight, face pressed against the brick. As he bears down on you again, you notice the ridges and bumps on the wall – the patchwork of cracks, subtle differences in colour, texture, the lichen and moss clinging to sheer sides. You wonder why these little details come into focus now. You could have walked down this alley a thousand times and never noticed.

“It’s time.”

His words drip into your ear. You hold your breath as his hand moves to your throat. Every small ridge and imperfection of the brick presses against your cheek as his weight bears down on you. His breath is hot and heavy in your ear. His words are like molten metal drizzling down your neck, burning their way down to collect as sizzling lust settles in the pit of your stomach.

As his fingers curl around your hair and tighten, pulling your head back to expose your long delicate neck to his lips, the small details become increasingly important to you. Your mind clings to each minor facet; the distant clack of trains floating across the evening air, sounds of laughter from a nearby pub, the rough texture of his fingertips as they scrape across your thigh.

He moves his hand higher and forces your legs apart, those rough fingers once again brushing your slick lips. You hold your breath, as you wait for him to push roughly inside. Groaning in anticipation, your stomach turns over in knots. But instead, he hovers with fingertips poised to strike, wavering side to side, snakelike, coiled to drive inside your exposed flesh.

“You need this, don’t you? You want me inside you, don’t you? More than anything right now, you need me to push my fingers deep inside your pretty little cunt, don’t you?”

His other fingers tighten and coil around your hair, stretching you back as he pulls you into him, underlining his final words to you.

“Don’t you?”

All you can do is nod, fearing if you open your mouth all that will emerge will be a scream of need for him to take you now, fuck you, use you.

Each brief touch is electric; bolts of pleasure shock through you. Your body reacts to these teasing glances of his fingers, your knickers sodden, your inner thighs wet, making it obvious how much his words and actions have affected you.

“My words made you almost cum before . . . on the train, didn’t they?”

You dip your head, still too scared to speak.

“Then I’m going to use them to fuck you again, every step of the way. I’m going to tell you what I’m going to do with this pretty body of yours. I’ll let them sink in slowly. I’m going to fuck your mind and your body. Shall we see what makes you cum hardest, my words or my cock? Are you ready, baby?”

His words already have you; he has you on the edge again. He’s gotten so deep inside your mind now. Every word acts like a finger pushing deep within you, pumping inside your cunt, as if he were pushing you hard against the wall, devouring you.

Once again you taste blood and realise you have bitten your lip hard again, trying to retain some sort of control.

“Answer me.”

“Yes.”

“Yes what?” he shouts.

“Yes, Sir.”

“Good girl. In a moment you will be on your knees, in this dirty alleyway. Your hands restrained, my hand in your hair, holding you in place. It will be painful, harsh. I’m going to slide my cock out of my trousers, force open those pretty lips of yours and bury myself deep within your mouth. I will not be kind. I will slowly take my pleasure from you, fucking your mouth, using my hand to control your head as I push you up and down my cock. You will taste me at the back of your throat. I’m going to bury it in there and you will accept it, like the good girl I know you are.”

His words pour inside you, melting, transforming into images of desire which flash in front of you. You know you want this, like nothing before. His tendrils slip around you, taking control, burying his lust deep inside you.

And as his strong hands begin to turn you around and force you to the floor, your mind has already raced ahead. You can taste his cock inside your mouth. As his fingers slide his hard cock from within his trousers, it’s glistening head, sweet before your lips, you can already feel it hitting the back of your throat, the delicious width of its head making you gag.

You groan as he forces his cock inside your mouth, not from its musky taste, but from the image already playing in your mind of it hammering repeatedly in your mouth, his heavy hands holding you steady as he thrust and fucks.

As he finally starts to move, hips slowly thrusting, pushing his length between your lips, he begins to talk to you again. Through the mist of your own pleasure, lost to the sensation of his hardness against your soft tongue, his voice curls around you.

“Once I have fucked your mouth, once I’ve taken my pleasure, you need to know I won’t give you what you want. I know you want to taste me, but not yet. You will need to wait.”

His words drip over you, hot lustful honey drizzled through the centre of your brain. Your body becomes heavy with need; your cunt clenches, twitches, greedy. All the time he keeps moving, his cock in motion, hands held behind your head, forcing you onto him. As he moves, the need to taste him grows. In desperation you move, suck him deeper, wrap your tongue around his cock as it slips and slides.

“In a moment, I’m going to pull you up by the hair, push you up against the wall, pull your legs around me, and spread your pussy wide. My fingers will push deep inside you, as my tongue pushes deep inside your mouth. Once my fingers are dripping, my hand drenched, we will both taste you. I’ll push my fingers into your mouth, my tongue running over them with yours, and I will push my cock inside you. I will be a cruel, harsh master.’’

He is true to his word. Suddenly, pain surges through you as you are drawn up and slammed against the wall. A small gasp escapes your lips at the shock, only to be captured as he pushes his mouth to yours, his tongue finding yours.

Finally releasing your hands to pull your leg up around him, you claw at his back, grasp his head pulling him onto you, needing his promised cock inside you.

His fingers find you first. Rough, violent, they drive deep, curling, twisting - you come. The suddenness shocks you. Your body shaking as the wave surges outwards, clamping his fingers deeper inside you. Then he slides them out, you groan into him, needing more, but expectant at what he has promised next.

You taste sweet, his tongue fighting yours to lick his fingers clean, and he explores your mouth. Then they are gone. Instead his hands clasp your thighs, fingers digging deliciously deep as he wraps you around him, lifting your tiny frame easily off the ground, crushing you against the wall.

“Yes!” Your shout is loud, exuberant, and glorious as he slides inside you. You wrap your arms around his broad shoulders, pulling onto him, digging your fingers in deep, to spur him on, needing him to be deeper, to force his whole length inside you.

He is at your ear now, whispering, words and cock combining, his words fucking your mind as he fills your cunt. You close your eyes and there is nothing now but him inside you - physically and mentally. Words, cock, tongue – a lust-filled cocktail. Each thrust mixes pleasure and pain as he slams you against the wall, his hands bruising your thighs, fingers crushing.

Words building, cresting, and flowing more quickly now as he builds you to release, teasing and twisting your mind as his cock commands your cunt. As you feel your own orgasm build, you claw against him, fingers ripping into him while he tears into you.

When he explodes inside you, he whispers his name as he said he would, a simple act that forces him deep in you. You are lost to anything else but him. How totally within you he is. You come again, letting his name spill from your lips as he collapses against you, physically spent, panting, but still raging with his words. Slowly he calms, words a slow trickle caress as his hips rock gently against you, forcing out your final tremors.

You hold tight, hugging him to you. He is silent, restful. But you feel awake for the first time, a box unlocked inside you, the hidden animal released from its chains.

You lean in to him, your lips by his ear, and utter one word. “More . . . ”

“More, what? Say my name.”

You swallow, trying to control your breath. “More please. . . Sir.”

“Good girl.”

The Writer is copyright © The Dirty Romantic
and any reproduction of any kind is prohibited.

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