Julie’s Subway Abduction Pt. 2

Julie didn’t dare look up at the man whose hand was pressing into the small of her back; she heeded his warning. Her gaze stayed forward, her forced march guided only by how his fingers threatened to grip into her. Maybe it was the post-orgasmic haze she was in that carried her up the steps out of the subway system—he had touched her, fingerfucked her, to the sort of climax her body hadn’t heretofore known was possible. So she climbed, feeling this strange man’s claim to her.

As their feet transferred from gum-stained subway steps to concrete streets, Julie’s eyes peered around. She’d never been this far out on the subway before, she didn’t recognize anything. The low, dense skyline formed by the buildings obscured any view of her more familiar parts of the city. There were little shops between the walk-up tenements: a fried chicken takeout place; a liquor store; a small market with vegetables at prices lower than Julie had ever seen at the stores near her; a corner store with multiple lottery ticket advertisements in the window.

The man was to Julie’s left now, keeping her on the inside of the street, away from the road. The shadow of awnings fell over her, changing her light. Still, she didn’t even turn her head.

The man pushed into Julie’s hip, steering her right at the corner. Then again, shortly after, turning her right once more towards the courtyard of an old building. In her peripheral vision, the building looked U-shaped, and she was walking towards an entryway in the center of two prongs. At the door, the man touched something to a part of the frame, and it opened with a beep. Hurriedly, the man shoved Julie inside. Then to the right, towards the silver gleam of an elevator door.

“Eyes down,” he muttered. He pulled the door open and pushed Julie into the elevator.

“What?” Julie asked.

“Eyes to the floor, cunt!” He barked. Again, Julie obeyed, hanging her head. She took in the man’s shoes against the small black-and-white tiling pattern of the elevator floor. They were big and surprisingly nice. Brown and polished. They would have fit in well in Julie’s father’s office.

The elevator stopped moving, and the man pushed Julie out the door. Their footsteps echoed in the ceramic hallway. Then, the man stopped. She saw his hand work a key in the door, the dark hairs on his fingers moving with the speed at which he opened two locks. Then they were inside.

Julie allowed herself to look up and around, but it was dark. She could tell the ceilings were high, just as they were in the apartments of friends of hers who lived in older buildings up the avenue from where she lived. But that’s all she could tell. The man’s hand gripped Julie’s hip once again as he ushered her forward from the apartment door. The hall’s wooden floor gave way to carpet as they entered a large room. Julie’s eyes adjusted as they walked through—she could see the fading light of the day glinting off glass transoms above doorframes—as she was hastened around a corner, down another hallway, and through a door.

The man pushed her forward and spun her, and Julie found herself seated on a bed. It felt nice, supportive and cushioning, like the bed from the hotel where her team had stayed for the Model UN finals. She was facing the man. She watched, her palms on the comforter under her, as his body turned halfway to pull the room’s door shut. She let her fingertips stroke what felt like linen—the nice sort that her aunt and mother too often prattled on about at that.

“Welcome home, little slut,” the man said. She couldn’t see his face in the darkness, but she could see the white of a dress shirt illuminated by the pink-navy light breaking in under the curtained windows. His height kept his face above the light and left his face shrouded, save for the bottom of a bearded chin.

Julie swallowed. Her finger tips curled into the plush comforter under her.

The man stepped forward. A large hand fell on her head, his fingertips stroking her scalp through her hair. Her cool, still-damp panties felt warmer. Her treacherous pussy was moistening—again!—as Julie’s captor pet her head, his caress shooting pinprick tingles down her spine.

“When can I go?” She asked in a hushed, dry voice. Her mouth and throat felt dried out. She swallowed again.

“That’s up to you, honey,” he said. His other hand stroked her shoulder as he gently raked his fingernails on her scalp. She shuddered at his touch, feeling jolts run down from the top of her head to her clenching thighs. “Be a good girl for me and I won’t have to keep you that long.”

The man’s hand kept steady on Julie’s head as the other found her collar bone and the top of her chest. Right under her nose, Julie watched those long, dark-haired fingers pinch and pull the black buttons of her school blouse open. One, two, three, four, five.

“Lacy. Nice.” He said. He could clearly see her white bra. “And already too small for these tits.” He palmed her breasts, one than the other, giving her sizable chest a squeeze, fingertips digging into soft, pliable flesh. Julie exhaled sharply. Her nipples sharply puckered under his molesting palm.

The man tore at the bottom of Julie’s blouse. With a pop, the last buttons gave way, ripping from their threading and clinking with a few hops onto the wooden floor. The man reached around Julie’s back, still holding her steady by her head. She didn’t dare move as she felt him pinch her bra strap together. He let the elastic strap relax apart—he had unclasped it. He pulled firmly on her hair and yanked the front of her bra down. It was already too small, and Julie’s big tits easily bulged free.

The man groped at Julie’s bare breasts. Squeezing her exposed flesh, pinching her nipples, digging in his fingertips like he was toying with clay.

“Ow,” Julie chirped under his touch, drawing her body back slightly. His hand followed.

“Such big tits for a little girl,” he sniggered, still feeling up her heavy breasts. Julie gasped and wiggled slightly. The fear and the large hand in her hair kept her cemented in place under his pawing grasp.

The man drew his arm back from Julie’s chest and started undoing his belt. Julie’s mind raced with realization. She’d watched enough porn and read enough smut to know what was coming.

“Please no,” Julie pleaded meekly. She watched a sizable lump emerge in dark boxer briefs as the man pushed his trousers lower.

“You got yours earlier, honey,” he said. “You can’t be such a tease. You gotta learn to please.” The man pushed his underwear’s waistband lower. Out crept a bulging, circumcised cock. Julie’s eyes widened: it was big, and she could tell he wasn’t even hard yet. Precum glistened on the fat tip. The man grabbed the back of Julie’s head and pushed his dick against her mouth. He rubbed it round her, his precum trailing across her lips and cheeks as he forced her face against his member.

She smelled his scent. Oh no, she thought. Her cunt gushed.