I was in a daze as, kneeling. I felt his organ standing in my face. I moved my mouth to its head and took his still-erect prick (doesn't the wind ever leave these sails?) between my hands, and ran my tongue around his spearhead, which had impaled me three times in the "love-murder" (as grandmother called it). I tasted the flavor of his organ and our sex. I reached up between his legs and grabbed his ass. He stiffened under my loving gropes and I had no thought but to torment him into coming again. This little jockey may have held the halter, but his mare had the bit in her mouth. The sense of reckless danger, of surrender to a demand, to be used and thrown away, returned. I wondered how he slouched against the wall while I sucked him off. He pulled out after jetting his come into the back of my throat. He wasn't so strong. There was another movement in the crowd, a jumble of elbows and knees. I swallowed and waited obediently like the French maid in the drawing room. I heard a fastener unsnap, turned towards the sound, then felt pants brush against my eyelashes. I reached up and touched a new man. I swallowed again with mixed fear and want. A hand bunched in my hair, grabbed my panty-collar firmly, and guided me onto him. This tool was dry in the cool air, smaller, and tasted different. It moved with the motion of the train. When my lips were at the head, I kissed to make the end wet, moved my mouth to the underside and nibbled down to the root. I hummed softly on his balls for a time and felt him move. I returned to the tip, using my full lips to stimulate the tip -only, but controlling me by my collar, he went for my tonsils. He climaxed (again?). I tried to back off so he would withdraw, but I was firmly held and had to swallow the load again. It was probably better that he didn't spurt all over my face or sweater anyway. The phantom withdrew and I waited primly on my knees. There was movement again in the crowd, and my lips were presented cock again. This time, he held my head firmly and fucked into my mouth. This organ felt different (bigger? I could barely think) yet again, and he pistoned in and out of my mouth like a machine. I was trying my damnedest to keep my lips over my teeth so as not to bite him. He took a rougher grip on my head and hair than black moments ago. My tongue was useless against this assault and I was utterly and completely submissive. Leaning forward with each of his strokes, I could smell his sweat. He climaxed with a grunt, sounding much deeper than the voice I had "come" to expect from my beloved Jesus (isn't every spic named "Jesus?"). It spurted against the roof of my mouth, and tasted of coffee. He held my head and kept his cock in my mouth. I felt his prick go limp between my lips, and was momentarily afraid he would urinate into me in some exploitation-domination thing. Breathing was difficult, and he wouldn't let me get up. There was a sour, lemony aftertaste. I was again afraid the lights would come on and someone might turn around and see me on my knees, my sweater and skirt disarrayed, my posture subservient, servicing a nonchalant Puerto Rican, who was probably leaned back having a smoke. He let go of my head and hair, and after another movement of the crowd, I felt men's strong arms, seemingly much thicker than my Spanish boy's, under my armpits and dragging me up against the bodies around us. A cloud of sweet aftershave enveloped me. I think this is where my skirt peeled off. Weakly and non-too-steadily standing again, I found somebody's left hand down between my legs and lifting my right leg up. He stuffed my panties back into my gasping mouth to smother my scream as a much larger invader sought my center! I threw my arms around his neck, and mounted a much more robust man, bringing both legs up over his hips as he lifted me onto his tool, grinding my belly against a broad chest covered by a jacket and tie. It seemed as if my current user's arms were around and under me at the same time as I leaned back against somebody and arched my back and flexed my thighs to again ride the train to orgasm. I came convulsing violently this time, but he and the crowd held me from falling, and he pulled out and came all over my belly and breasts, and had the nerve to try to push my shoulders back down -I guess so that I could lick him off? But no, he wrestled me like a limp rag doll, pushed me down to my hands and knees, and tried to drive my face into the dirty floor with his hands on the small of my back, inserting a monstrous dry (?) penis into my love hole doggie-style. His watch or cuff link scratched my flank as I struggled for pleasure against this new assault. I moaned through the gag and moved my rear as best I could, but the press of passengers made movement almost impossible, He ripped into me, and it seemed that his organ was stretching my already-exhausted labia to the breaking point. I spit out my gag and screamed just as another train braked to a halt on the track next to us, but I doubt if anybody heard. I tried to buck and wiggle him off and out, but he drove into me with unrelenting determination. The dry invasion was horrid. I felt as if I were being torn apart inside. As I could not stand up with his weight on my behind, I began to follow the forward motions and eventually found myself flat on the floor and free of my intruder, who splashed a load all over my lovely rosy posterior (but for grace, there was my face). I crawled through people's legs and packages, eventually finding a little space by the doors. The lights came up, and I saw an enormous black man grinning over the heads of the crowd at me as he straightened his tie, and several other men winking slyly at me, one gesturing imperiously for me to come back. My Puerto Rican lover-boy was nowhere in sight. A goateed businessman standing in front of me offered his topcoat as the doors opened, He led me out of the car, and towards the stairs. I was unsteady and stuporous on my feet, missing a shoe, my skirt, and panties, my sweater and brassiere still hanging open, my body dripping semen from my love hole, my breasts, and my behind. My savior produced an expensive linen handkerchief with which he gently daubed and wiped me clean; my nipples rose at his touch. He threw the wet hanky into a trash basket; there was a blue monogram on it. He led me around the back of the stair and shoved my face into an iron column, tore his coat off me and pressed his organ up into me from behind. I was too weak to scream, and the taste of the rusted iron of the column was as bitter as the penetration. He was only good for a few thrusts, and pulled out to spill himself on my left thigh. Out of the corner of my blurry vision I saw a policeman walking up the platform with a questioning look on his face as I slid to the concrete. My debonair "businessman" called "$20!" to him as I collapsed against the column. Officer "Talman" (I was able to briefly read his badge name) reached down for his nightstick -but instead pulled out a bill and his own "baton." My "rescuer" pulled me erect again, back against the column by my arms, my ass pressed open by the wide, cold curve of the metal pylon. My lower regions again received an intruder, my legs too weak to move to minimize the pain of his entry. I tried to turn my face away, but with my arms gripped around the back of the pillar I had to submit. It was cold on the secluded platform and my nipples were erect, but no longer from arousal. My left breast was being mashed by his massive paw and my face and the front of my body were being rasped and scratched by the brass buttons and catches on his uniform harness and gunbelt. Officer Talman kissed me on the forehead when he finished, after about ninety seconds. I moaned. My bearded captor rewrapped his coat about my limp form and hustled me up the stairs. I think my hands were tied with a silk necktie. I went semiconscious with him into a taxi - where he may have taken me again (or was it the driver? The taxi was stopped in an alley, and everything smelled of a cheap cigar). Somebody came in my hand, the topcoat was a Burberry, and I licked my fingers with a hysterical giggle. I think I gave a blowjob through the opened window of the car to someone playing basketball on a street corner somewhere, but I didn't see his face; it tasted sweaty and rank. A bill changed hands again. I recall a brownstone. The bathroom was super, with an iron Victorian tub, a vanity full of scents and oils, and satin sheets on a big brass bed. A naked man came in and fucked me during a languid hot bath; I nearly passed out. My savior kissed me on the forehead, told me to drink some funny-tasting tea, and go to sleep. He said he would be home at six and we could dine with some friends. My hands were still tied. There was a twelve-inch stainless steel dildo on the dressing table; it felt warm and oily when he put it in. I tried to move with it. I had a confused series of dreams about men and women gathered around me, touching, caressing and kissing me; somebody seemed to be videotaping and directing the use of the metal dong, rubbing it all over me. I awoke with my hands tied to the brass headboard, there was blood on the sheets and I could not focus. The dildo was still pushed up into me, and I ached horribly everywhere below my waist and around my mouth. Instead of calling 911, my first thought was to escape to work! After some struggle, I found that I could free myself from the silk tie. I sat up and took stock: I was naked but clean, and the dildo was expelled by a movement of my muscles taught me by a martial arts instructor I had once dated -take THAT, Black Bart! I found my purse, and there was a closet with some nondescript shoes and a sort of wrap-dress which I could tie to fit; the color was a terrible angry pink. I washed my face and breasts, and found a way to sluice my inner cavities, adjusted my hair, sprayed myself with some cologne, and went to the door to see where I was. I was in what I had always thought to be an office building two blocks from work, and with some luck I could get to my desk with the explanation of the track work and only get docked what I was late; it seemed like a plan.The doorman licked his lips for me when I went past; I tried not to wiggle my behind for him as I walked out, the early sun making silhouettes of me through the thin material of the dress, clinging to me like it wanted to possess me too. When I got up to my floor, Janie asked what had happened, everybody was worried about me, having heard about the subway work, and knowing I rode it (they did not know HOW I rode it that day!). About a third of the office had not yet shown up yesterday (!) and it was almost three o'clock. Omigod. It was TUESDAY. I said that I got caught in the crowd in the subway and overrode my stop, then had to make my way back, encountering delays in both directions (all of which was true, if you think about it) and ended up missing the whole day. Janie said HR was adjusting everyone's time due to the transit mess and I shouldn't worry. I hit my desk and booted up my PC, clearing emails and responding to those which needed attention. As I was doing this, I noticed Guy standing by my left side, looking at my keyboard, and my chest and my exposed thigh.The wrap dress had loosened with my movements and most of me was visible from my left if anybody looked. Guy is a smashing fellow, and I have been flirting with him for years trying to wean him off his gay habits so that fuller advantage could be taken of his available "assets." Guy put his hand on my shoulder, pushing the neckline of my dress further away from my breasts, and said "Come with me." I pinched the leaves of my dress closed and got up to follow. He motioned me into his cubicle, where he reached for the front tie of my dress, and said he was going to prepare me for a "special project" which would assure my future with the company. My dress fell open, exposing my heaving breasts and my naked bod. My face was flushed and my mouth was dry. He pushed me back against the edge of the desk, where I sat on the edge while he knelt in front of me, taking my calves up over his stripe-shirted shoulders, and kissed up the insides of my thighs to my "liquid center." I lost all self-control with a whimper, leaned back against the desk monitor, and surrendered myself to the best disciplinary tongue-lashing I have had since Junior High School, when I was late for individual lesson with the Band Teacher once. He had the tuba player break my cherry on top of the music room piano for not having been there when he needed me; I was on time every time after that. A soft male voice said "Guy?"and I opened my eyes to see my goateed samaritan standing in the cubicle entrance. Guy waved him in, and he loosed his belt and began to massage his dick, which I immediately bent to kiss. Guy kept up his cunniligual strokes, and began to loosen his own trousers. He stood, flipped me over like a hooked salmon, and banged into me from behind/below. I know when to keep quiet in front of senior management and applied myself to the tasks at hand. I came when he did; Mr. Goatee only wanted me to lick off his tip. He caressed my chin tenderly. I am typing this tonight of the day after my adventure on the subway (I think; things are all screwed up), staying late to "finish up." I was told that, with such personal dedication, my position with the Transit Authority was assured. I see that Joe across the way is still here, he always has network problems with his workstation, Perhaps I will get under his desk and see what I might do for him. If I see the man who polishes the floor at night, who wears that blue coverall in the deserted sixth floor, I will give him that special appreciation he has always offered me drugs for. It sure feels good to be sensitive to the needs of the Hispanic community; perhaps I will take a course in Spanish....

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