Dimple Sharma checked her watch for the umpteenth time that evening, the glowing digits confirming it was indeed 10:30 pm. The office had been particularly hectic, and the deadline had her working late. She sighed, grabbed her bag, and stepped out into the cool night air, the office lights casting a stark contrast against the inky sky. The quiet hum of the city was occasionally pierced by the distant wail of a siren, a reminder of the world continuing outside her bubble of work stress.
Dimple's footsteps echoed in the empty corridor as she made her way to the bus stop, her skinny black trousers hugging her curvy figure. She had chosen the suspenders for comfort today, not realizing how they'd emphasize her silhouette. As she approached the bus stop, she noticed a small group of women huddled together, chatting in hushed tones, and she felt a flicker of relief. Safety in numbers, she thought, as she took her place among them.
A rusty old bus chugged into view, headlights cutting through the darkness. Dimple's heart sank a little; it was the last one for the night. She boarded with the others, her eyes scanning the interior as she searched for a safe spot. The bus was more crowded than she had hoped, the seats filled with a mix of sleepy office workers.
Her eyes locked onto the creepy guy from the bus stop. He was already on the bus, his gaze unabashedly roving over her body. Dimple felt a shiver of disgust and quickly turned away, hoping that if she ignored him, he'd take the hint and leave her alone. But as the bus pulled away from the curb, she could feel his eyes on her, a lingering heat against her back. She clutched her bag tighter, her heart pounding in her chest. This wasn't the first time she had encountered unwanted attention on her commute home, but something about this guy made her more nervous than usual. She took a deep breath, reminding herself that she had made this trip countless times before, that she was strong and capable. But she couldn't shake the feeling that tonight was different.
The bus lurched forward, and the crowd shuffled closer together. Dimple's stop was twelve agonizing stops away, and she knew she was in for a tense ride. She tried to focus on the scenery outside the window, the streetlights flickering by in a blur of artificial light. But the anticipation was almost unbearable; she could feel his presence behind her, his body heat closing in like a predator stalking its prey. The murmur of conversations and the rumble of the engine didn't drown out the thunderous beating of her own heart.
Despite her attempts to ignore him, his stare made her feel unsafe and anxious. The journey to her stop was long, with the atmosphere on the bus adding to her discomfort.
The creepy guy's stare was unrelenting, his eyes a greasy film that seemed to cover every inch of her body. She felt violated, her personal space being invaded by this stranger's perverted gaze. Dimple tried to keep her distance, shuffling sideways and leaning into the aisle, but the bus was packed like a tin of sardines, leaving her with nowhere to go. His proximity grew more alarming with every jolt of the vehicle, and she could feel the panic rising in her chest, making it difficult to breathe.
The bus lurched around a sharp corner, and the man took his opportunity. His hand shot out, grabbing her waist with a firm grip. Dimple's heart skipped a beat as she felt his fingers dig into her skin. She whipped around, eyes blazing with anger and fear. The other passengers, lost in their own worlds, seemed oblivious to her distress, their eyes either buried in their phones or staring vacantly into space. She opened her mouth to scream, but to her surprise, no sound came out.
The man's staring grew intense, and Dimple felt increasingly violated. When the bus took a sharp turn, he took advantage and touched her waist, leaving her trapped and unable to react with the other passengers too engrossed to notice.
Her skinny trousers, which had been a second skin all day, now felt like a prison. The fabric clung to her curves, leaving no room for escape as the man's hand slid up to her ribcage. His other hand reached around to cup her breast, his hot breath on her neck sending shivers down her spine. Dimple's mind raced, trying to come up with a plan, any plan, to get away from him. But his grip was too strong, his intentions too clear. She was trapped in a nightmare she hadn't anticipated, surrounded by the indifferent silence of the other passengers.
And then, as if her body were a traitor to her own sense of self-preservation, she felt a wetness spread between her legs. The fabric of her panties grew damp as her arousal grew, a confusing and terrifying sensation that seemed to amplify the horror of the situation. Her nipples hardened against his palm, and she couldn't help the gasp that escaped her lips when he gave them a rough squeeze. The creepy guy took it as an invitation, his erection now pressing firmly against her ass, sending waves of dread and a strange, unwanted excitement through her body.
Dimple found herself in a terrifying situation as the man's hands roamed over her body, even reaching to fondle her breast, with the other passengers seemingly unaware. To her shock, she felt aroused despite the fear, which only intensified her distress.
With every speed bump they hit, Dimple's body was thrown against the man's, his hands moving with the motion of the bus to caress and maul her in a sickening dance. She tried to push away, but her efforts were in vain. The more she struggled, the more her body betrayed her, responding to the illicit touch. She felt the heat of his cock through her trousers, the friction of it rubbing against her sensitive skin as the bus jolted along the road. She was acutely aware of each sensation, every nerve ending screaming at her to escape, yet her body seemed to be responding in a way she never thought possible.
The man's breath was hot on her ear as he whispered, "I want to own you, darling. Every part of your body. Tell me you want it too." His grip on her breasts grew tighter, the pain mixing with the arousal she was desperately trying to suppress. His words were a serrated knife cutting through her protests, leaving her trembling with a mix of fear and an unwelcome thrill. The creepy guy's eyes searched hers, looking for any sign of consent, and to her horror, she saw a flicker of something in her own gaze that she couldn't explain.
The man's advances grew bolder, his touch eliciting unwanted arousal from Dimple as she remained trapped. Despite her efforts to resist, she was tormented by her own body's reaction, and his whispered words of desire pierced through her fear, leaving her feeling exposed and conflicted.
His touch grew bolder, even reaching her breasts, with the surrounding passengers oblivious to her plight. Despite her fear, Dimple felt an unexpected arousal, which intensified her distress and conflict.
Before she could react, his hand was on hers, and with surprising strength, he guided her down his body. Her palm met the fabric of his pants, and she could feel the unmistakable outline of his erection. She tried to pull away, but his hand was a vice, controlling her movements as easily as if she were a marionette. Dimple's mind screamed at her to fight, but her body felt frozen, her hand seemingly acting of its own accord as it moved closer to his groin.
"Start stroking it, darling," he breathed into her ear, his voice thick with lust. "Show me how much you want it."
Dimple's hand trembled as she found herself obeying his command, her palm moving in a slow, hesitant rhythm over the bulge in his trousers. The creepy guy's eyes were half-closed, his lips parted in a sinister smile as he watched her hand move over his cock. The fabric grew damp with his pre-cum, and she could feel the veins pulsing beneath her fingertips. She closed her eyes, willing herself to be anywhere but here, her mind a chaotic storm of fear and disgust.
But the more she stroked him, the more she became aware of the wetness between her own legs, the way her body was responding to the situation despite her better judgment. Her hand grew more confident, her movements more deliberate as she felt the power she had over him, the power of his desire. It was a twisted dance of dominance and submission, and she wasn't sure which one of them was truly in control.
The man overpowered Dimple, forcing her to touch his erection as he whispered degrading commands. Despite her fear, her body reacted, and she began to stroke him, feeling the power of his desire for her. This twisted interaction left her struggling to understand the complex mix of emotions and physical responses.
The creepy guy's eyes never left hers, a challenge in them that she felt compelled to meet. His breath grew ragged, his hips thrusting slightly with each stroke. Dimple felt a strange thrill in knowing she had this effect on him, a dark and dangerous sense of satisfaction that she didn't fully understand. She could see his cock now, thick and hard, pushing against the fabric of his pants like it was trying to escape.
Her hand moved almost on its own, stroking him faster, firmer. The fabric grew wet with his precum, and she felt a twisted kind of power in knowing that she was bringing him closer to the edge. His breath hitched, and she could feel his cock pulsing beneath her palm, the heat of his desire searing through her.
And then, without warning, his cock sprang free from the confines of his pants. Dimple's eyes widened as she took in the sight of him, fully erect and thick with need. The man was unapologetic, his gaze never leaving hers as he ground his hips into her, pushing his erection against her hand. She could see the veins bulging, the head of his cock glistening with desire. The other passengers were lost in their own worlds, oblivious to the depraved act playing out right before them.
Dimple's resistance waned as she continued to stroke the man's erection, feeling a twisted sense of power. His penis was exposed, and he pushed it against her hand, seeking relief. The public setting and her own fearful excitement added layers of complexity to the unfolding situation.
Her hand continued to move, almost of its own accord. Each stroke brought a new wave of dread and excitement, her palm sticky with the evidence of his lust. The man's breath grew ragged, his grip on her tightening as she stroked him faster. Dimple couldn't believe she was doing this, couldn't believe she was letting this monster violate her so openly. But she couldn't stop. It was as if she was in a trance, her body acting on instinct, responding to the primal need to survive.
The bus rumbled on, the dim lights flickering overhead, throwing eerie shadows across the faces of the other passengers, who remained blissfully ignorant of the horror playing out just a few feet away. The creepy guy's eyes never left hers, the challenge in them growing more intense with each passing second. And then, with a gasp, he came. Thick ropes of cum shot out, landing on her hand and splattering against her skinny black trousers. She could feel the warmth of it seep into the fabric, a disgusting reminder of her own betrayal.
Overwhelmed by fear and arousal, Dimple succumbed to the creepy guy's advances, stroking him until he climaxed. The public nature of the assault and her own body's response trapped her in a cycle of horror and excitement. The obliviousness of the other passengers added to the surreal and terrifying experience.
The man's smile grew wider, a twisted triumph in his eyes. He whispered in her ear, "Aah baby, you did good, really good. Now before I get off on my stop, kindly lick my cum off your hand. I wanna see you devour it with all passion." Dimple's stomach churned, her mind reeling at the thought of tasting him, of giving him the satisfaction he so clearly craved. But something within her, something primal and survival-driven, urged her to comply. Her hand, still trembling, began to rise towards her mouth.
Maintaining eye contact with the creepy guy, she licked her palm, her tongue swirling over the sticky mess of his cum. She tasted the saltiness, the bitterness of his desire. Each swipe of her tongue brought a fresh wave of humiliation, yet she couldn't ignore the heat between her legs, the wetness that had soaked her panties. The man's eyes were glued to her mouth, watching intently as she licked away the evidence of his assault. The taste of him filled her mouth, and she felt a strange, unwelcome arousal. It was as if her body was responding to the situation with a need she couldn't control, a need that made her feel dirty and ashamed.
Dimple was forced to perform an act of degradation, licking the man's cum from her hand while maintaining eye contact. Despite her disgust, she felt an inexplicable arousal that conflicted with her fear and humiliation, leaving her even more trapped in the distressing scenario.
Dimple was overwhelmed by fear and arousal as the man forced her to touch his exposed erection. She complied, feeling a strange power amidst the horror. His climax led to her licking his cum, all while the other passengers remained unaware. The public setting and her conflicting emotions trapped her in a disturbing experience.
The man chuckled darkly, his voice thick with satisfaction. "Woah, what a slut you are, darling," he murmured, his grip on her waist tightening as he pulled her closer to him. The passengers remained oblivious, their eyes averted or focused on their phones, the world outside the window a blur of lights and shadows. Dimple's mind was a battlefield, her thoughts screaming at her to push him away, to scream for help, but all she could do was stand there, trembling, as she continued to clean her hand.
As the bus neared his stop, the man leaned in and whispered, "I guess I'll see you again on the same stop, lol," his voice a sickening blend of mockery and anticipation. The words sent a fresh wave of fear through her, the thought of enduring this again making her stomach churn. But she couldn't tear her eyes away from his, the power dynamic between them palpable. He knew she was his for the taking, and she knew it too.
The bus stopped with a jerk, and the creepy guy released her. He stepped back, allowing her a brief respite from his touch, and she felt a strange sense of loss. Her body was still buzzing with a mix of fear and arousal, the taste of his cum lingering on her tongue. She watched as he sauntered down the aisle, his hips swaying with a newfound confidence, as if he had just claimed a prize. The door hissed open, and he disappeared into the night, leaving her trembling in the wake of his depravity.
To be continued....
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