Work Text:
07:23
gazthegreat: we still on for today?
gazthegreat: no harm done if u want to back out
you: im not backing out
you: bus 36. 22:30
you: ill see u there
gazthegreat: looking forward to it luv
you: me too
22:25
You take a deep breath as you step onto the bus, adjusting your low cut top and heading straight to the very back. You scan the few people already there, wondering if one of them is him. But you can’t tell—and you won’t be able to. You have no idea what he looks like. It’s part of the little game you’re playing, to make it feel more real.
You’ve been flip-flopping back and forth between nerves and excitement all day, waiting for this moment to come. Part of you still can’t believe you’re doing this. It’s been a secret fantasy of yours for years, one you honestly didn’t think would ever come true. At least, until Gaz contacted you.
It had been a few days since you’d posted the short, erotic story detailing your fantasy to your Fetlife profile when you received his message. It was polite and respectful—something most people on that site seemed incapable of being—complimenting your writing and expressing how hot he found it without being overly lewd. You didn’t usually reply to DMs, but he had caught your attention, and before you knew it, the two of you fell into an easy, enjoyable conversation.
You’d exchanged messages on and off with him for a week before you worked up the courage to ask him to help make your fantasy a reality. He’d been surprised but completely willing, and after working out the details—time, place, safeword—you sent him a picture of yourself so he didn’t accidentally grope the wrong woman, God forbid.
That was how you ended up where you are now, standing on a public bus wearing a tiny skirt and no panties, and a cropped, too-tight top with no bra. Your nipples poke out through the fabric like cute little accessories, and when you reach up to hold the safety bar above your head, it makes your cleavage pop.
Every time someone brushes past you, you jump, waiting for their hands to start wandering—but all they do is murmur a quick apology and continue on. It leaves your nerves shot, and as the minutes drag past, 22:30 come and gone, you begin to wonder if this is all a trick, and Gaz isn’t going to show up at all.
Suddenly, two big, warm hands are placed on your hips, thumbs just barely digging into the swell of your arse.
“”Scuse me, luv,” a deep voice says, and you look over your shoulder to see a tall, handsome man behind you, trying to squeeze through the throng of people. He doesn’t seem to be concerned with keeping his distance from you, though, his chest pressed up against your back. And when the crowd doesn’t automatically part for him, he doesn’t make any further efforts. Just smiles down at you and gives your hips a squeeze, hands lingering for a long second before he lets go.
“Looks like we’re stuck with each other,” he says with a wink and a little smirk, leaning further into your space as he reaches over you and grabs the safety bar, his hand practically on top of yours. You stare up at him with wide eyes, full of fear and excitement in equal measure. He shuffles closer to you, so close you can feel the cold, metal button on his trousers pressing into the strip of bare flesh just above your skirtwaist, like a brand. “S’crowded tonight, innit?”
You stutter a meek reply, barely able to get the words past your lips. He just chuckles, and despite how creepy it should be with him practically all over you, you can’t help but find the sound incredibly charming.
Quickly, you look away, ducking your head shyly. You wrap your free arm around your waist, trying to cover yourself a little bit more, suddenly feeling far too exposed. It’s another ten minutes or so before the bus drives over a bump, and you stumble forward, nearly toppling over. You have to grab the seat in front of you to stop yourself. A long, muscular arm takes up the space your own just left and pulls you back against the man behind you.
“Careful,” that deep, smooth voice whispers in your ear, full lips brushing against the shell. His palm cups your lower belly, keeping you still as you try to subtly squirm away. “Wouldn’t want a pretty thing like you to get hurt, would we?”
“Th-thanks,” you stammer, quiet as a mouse. You wait for him to let go, but he keeps his arm right where it is, spreading his fingers so his pinky slips under the waist band of your skirt, just the tiniest bit. Meanwhile, the tip of his thumb grazes the underside of your breast. Your breath stutters, and you can feel him smile, his mouth still touching your skin.
“Think I’ll keep this right here, give you a seatbelt,” he says casually, and you can hear the condescending amusement in his voice, the surety that you won’t stop him. You look around, trying to catch someone’s eye to silently ask them for help—but the bus is nearly empty, now, and the few people left aren’t looking at the two of you. You bite your lip, eyes stinging, feeling so very small and helpless.
If you were wearing panties, they would be soaked.
A few minutes pass like that, and just as you’re starting to think this will be all you have to put up with, the hand on your belly slowly creeps higher, until the stranger is blatantly cupping your breast. He chuckles again when you let out a scared little whimper, brushing his thumb over your nipple.
“You’ve got real nice tits, luv,” he murmurs, squeezing the soft flesh between his fingers. Your pussy throbs. “S’that why you’re showin’ them off like this? Just waitin’ for a guy like me to cop a feel… proper public service slut, you are.”
You shake your head in denial, tears brimming in your eyes, your bottom lip trembling. The man pinches your nipple harshly, and you swallow a yelp as he tuts.
“Don’t lie to me, sweet’eart. Know you want this,” he says, pushing down the neckline of your shirt. Your eyes widen as both your tits are left bare, for anyone to see. You start to tremble from a mix of fear and excitement, staring at your reflection in the mirror as his large, dark hand gropes your breasts roughly. “You’re not even wearing a bra.”
“Stop,” you whisper, eyes big and pleading. The handsome man tightens his grip, pulling a noise of pain from you. You’re sure he’ll leave bruises on your poor breasts, and just the thought nearly makes you moan.
“Dress like a whore, get treated like a whore,” he replies coldly, grinding against your arse. The bulge in his jeans feels so big it makes you dizzy. “And whores don’t get to say no.”
He covers your mouth with one hand and twists your nipple cruelly with the other, pulling it away from your chest. You let out a muffled shriek, your legs nearly collapsing out from under you as your arousal reaches a fever pitch. Christ, when you'd admitted to Gaz that you liked it when a man was mean to your tits, you hadn't expected him to deliver quite this well!
The stranger gives your nipple one more harsh tug, pulling a ragged sob from deep in your chest, before letting go. He crowds you forward until you’re kneeling on a seat, bare tits pressed up against the window for any passerby to admire. It’s humiliating, it’s terrifying, and it’s so incredibly erotic that you could faint.
“Let’s see that pretty little cunt, shall we, luv?” He murmurs in your ear, before rucking your skirt up and spreading your arse cheeks. You blush at the satisfied groan he lets out. “There she is.”
He ghosts his fingers over your slit, making you shiver. You squirm, trying to get away, the fear returning ten fold—but he smacks your cunt with the back of his hand, one of his knuckles brushing against your clit and making you see stars.
“Behave, or I’ll call over the bus driver and see if he wants a turn,” he hisses, and you stiffen.
“N-no, no, don’t!” You plead, real terror in your voice. You almost utter your safe word, but… but you don't want this to end, not yet. Not when that dose of real fear only makes you want this even more. “Please, I’ll— I’ll behave. I p-promise.”
Your voice is as wet as your cunt, tears pooled in your eyes and caught in your throat. The stranger’s hand on the middle of your back, the one keeping you pinned to the window and flashing all of London, grows heavier—right alongside his breathing.
“That’s a good slag,” he growls, and the sound of a zipper being undone is all the warning you get before you feel the head of his cock, thick and hot, at your entrance. He slides a hand into your hair, yanking it back and forcing you to look at him again, deep into his pretty brown eyes. “Go ahead an’ cry, but keep it down unless you want that bloke in front to have a turn after all.”
Despite his words, he doesn’t move immediately, and it takes a second for you to realize that he’s giving you a chance to back out, to say your safe word and end the scene right here. Your pussy pulses, the aching emptiness inside you growing unbearable.
“Be g-gentle,” you sob, continuing to play the twisted little game that the two of you had messaged about for so long. “I— I’ve n-never—”
Gaz’s eyes sparkle in such a captivating way as he grins at you like a shark, predatory and with too many sharp teeth. He doesn't let you finish your sentence, just covers your mouth again and then drives his cock deep inside you, bottoming out in one powerful thrust. You scream, your ears ringing as your cunt stretches around him painfully, perfectly.
He doesn’t stop, doesn’t ease up for even a second. He fucks you hard and fast and rough as you cry and beg for him to stop, tears leaking down your face and soaking his hand while your cunt soaks his cock. He does let go of your hair at some point, pulling you back from the window enough to reach around and grab your breast, squeezing and kneading it harshly as he rapes you.
It seems to go on forever and yet no time at all, because when he brutally yanks on your nipple and wrings an overwhelmingly powerful orgasm out of you, all you can think is that it’s over far too soon. You hope that he’ll keep going, but seconds later, he pulls out and spills his cum all over your arse, hot and claiming.
He lets you go as soon as he’s done, and you collapse onto the seats beside you, still shaking from the strength of your climax, and still crying from the terrible violation. A moment passes before he crouches down in front of you, gently stroking your hair back from your face, and places a soft kiss on your slack lips.
“You were perfect, luv,” he says warmly, and you don’t know whether to lean into his touch or flinch away from it, so you just remain still, utterly frozen. He smiles at you, and it's not scary this time, but fond. He reaches into his pocket and pulls out a wad of cash, holding it up for you to see before tucking it into the waistband of your skirt. He kisses you again, gives your nipple one last, affectionate pinch, and then stands up and gets off the bus, leaving you in your utterly debauched state.
01:37
Later, when you’re back home and in bed after a nice, long, hot shower, you check your phone to find one unread message. It’s from Gaz, and your breath hitches in your throat as you click on it with shaking hands. It’s a picture of you, laying catatonic across the grimy bus seats, clothes in disarray, hair a mess, tits bright red, nipples swollen, and your arse covered in cum. You gasp, horrified, your sore pussy throbbing with arousal.
Thought you'd want something to remember me by <3, is what the picture is captioned with. You’re dazed, unbelieving. You don't even remember him taking it… and you don’t know whether to demand he delete it or make it his bloody lock screen.
Before you can decide, another message pops up.
I’ll get rid of it if you want, but I know a few blokes who would love to see a pretty girl so ruined. Might even want a taste for themselves… you ever fantasized about being gang raped, luv?
“Fuck,” you curse, throwing your phone across your bed as you fumble desperately for your vibrator.
You think you might just be falling in love.