Author's notes: Characters are above 18.
The story was placed in non-con/ reluctance category due to forced orgasm, abuse of power by a government agent, bondage and stranger danger. It is a short one person perspective story. I hope you enjoy. Please be kind with your comments.
It was 7:20 am on May 1 when the incident happened. Only a few blocks from my job.
The weather was already unusually warm for the beginning of May. A thick layer of humidity permeated the early morning air. The sun was already high in the sky. Not a cloud in sight.
But nothing could sweeten my mood.
I woke up at 5:30 am. My daily shift starts at 7:00 a.m. I was off yesterday so I stayed up a bit later than I should have. Somehow I passed out without setting my alarm or charging my phone. I happened to wake up only 45 minutes later than normal. So I jumped in the shower,keeping my usual pampering to a minimal.
A quick once over of my freshly shaven womanhood. Running my wet hand over the ultra smooth bare feminine skin above my labia, letting out a quiet moan before shaking my head.
No time for this. I muttered to myself.
I rinsed out the conditioner in my hair noting the lovely scent of raw coconut milk and vanilla bean. Toweling off and twisting my hair into a tight, round bun. To let it set into the soft waves, I love cascading down my back. The natural oils from my conditioner always left my Light Auburn locks silky with a nice sheen. Any guy would desire to run his fingers through.
I grabbed my favorite Victoria's secret high-rise pocket leggings.
The performance legging were extra soft--with 4-way stretch that follows my every move,Internal power mesh high waistband. Deep side pockets. Wicking fabric kept me cool & dry and Cotton panel gusset.
I absolutely loved these leggings they clung tightly to my body with sleek fabric. Forming beautiful curves from my natural, thick thighs and plump bottom.
I slipped on a loose short sleeve black cotton blended t-shirt. Liking how the V neck design let the robust cleavage of my 34C cup breast breathe a little on this humid day. Yet it's stitch design narrowed on my slender waist then flared out over my hips just below the high waistband of my leggings. I paused in front of the mirror to admire my sultry figure. My mind complimented myself.
For 41-year-old who's only form of working out is lifting heavy creates and boxes. Darting around the grocery store where I work tirelessly. Constantly moving about the store and working my muscles.
I had a nice figure. A decent amount of supple curves. With a healthy weight from eating vegetables and classic carbs.
Considering I was only 5'1. I had a few admirers at work.
After brushing my teeth and making sure I had my keys and my phone I darted out the door. Stopping short just outside my entrance to fly back in and grab my roller trolley.
Damn I wanted to return my empty bottles today.
I grumbled.
The few weeks of occasional beer consumption left me with a heavy bag of glass bottles to return.
With the noisy trolley in tow, I dashed off to the train station a few blocks away. Already irritated at the humidity and my tardiness.
Of course the train stalled for some idiotic reason. My patience is growing thin. After we sit at a station only halfway to my destination the conductor finally announces he needs to check each train car door before they can determine the train is out of service.
This process wasted 20 min. By this point I was standing on the station platform feeling irate. Muttering about how the conductor could have just announce the train was out of service due to malfunction and pulled out leaving the next train,only a few minutes behind us to pull in and take us to our destination. The hypocrisy of the conductors announcement
We are sorry for the inconvenience. Please wait for the next train available.
Are you fucking kidding me!
I practically shouted out loud in my fury.
The next train which is massively delayed now, pulls in. Each station is packed with slow moving people all waiting to get to their destination. We finally arrived at the last stop and I race up the escalator yanking on my roller trolley. Of course the next bus shows up late and I'm already a few minutes late for work.
I'm normally short-tempered and a bit fiery to begin with but between the stagnant heat and all the delays, I'm outright fuming.
The bus finally pulls up and we all bored quickly. After the delays the bus is overcrowded. I was lucky to be first in line and get a single seat along the windows, facing the standing people In the middle aisle.
This tall, lanky younger man probably in his late twenties stood in front of me. Copper colored hair, a dusting of a five o'clock shadow and light covering of peach fuzz along his arms. I couldn't look into his eyes without staring at him or appearing to be flirting with him. So I'll just say they were light brown. I guessed he was of Irish decent.
I glanced down at the fanny pack secured around his lean waist. He had a almost scrawny figure but is height and lean muscles made up for the lack of definition.
Inside the mesh pocket of his waist bag seemed to be some kind of government ID. At first I didn't pay any mind to him as I was late for work and already growling under my breath about the ridiculously slow bus driver who started late and seemed to be wasting even more time.
He looked down at my roller trolley with a suspicious raise of his brow, noting the clinking sounds my empty bottles made. Possibly thinking it was something malicious and dangerous.
Making note of the fact that I was sneering at the driver and muttering to myself as I pressed the button to get off at my stop. Practically knocking the guy over who stood innocently enough between the seat I was in and the buses exit door.
He steps off the bus quickly following me in hot pursuit. I'm charging down the street cursing how late I am dragging my trolley behind me.
He calls out.
STOP!
In my rush I ignore his comment, completely unfazed by it and continue to speed forward. He takes a few quick strides and catches up with me grabbing the roller from my hand and spinning me around to face him.
I need to inspect your trolley ma'am.
He says without showing me his ID or declaring his occupation.
In my irritated mood I just grunt.
Ugh! I'm late, leg go!
I practically snarl.
He grabbed my wrist,pushing me against the tall metal fence that lines the gravel and grass parking space. Where construction workers and other sanitation vehicles park. As well as car repair shops that line the few blocks between the bus stop and my job. Lined with diamond shaped metal fences sprawling across the empty lots.
Those empty spaces and vacant lots void of any pedestrians.
I hear the subtle sound of passerbys going to their destination as they get off the bus a few blocks down before the sound of the metal fence rings in my ears.
The way the thin metal fence rattles against the metal poles as I am pressed against its links. It happened so suddenly. Thrust against the fence. My slender wrist secured in his single handed broad grasp. I hear a zippering sound before he shifts his weight to the other foot. I hear him grunt softly behind me. Yanking my clasped hands higher in the air behind me. Pressing my cheek against the fence even harder to catch my balance.
A thin strip of rough, groved plastic wraps around my wrist. The Heavy Duty Police Zip Tie Handcuffs made of Nylon with Double Locking Cuffs 250-lbs Tensile Strength, 27.5 inches, secures my wrist behind my back. He drops my wrist so my bound hands rest against my left bum cheek.
His tall lanky figure and young virile body makes quick work of my protest. I tried to wiggle away from the fence. My cheek pressed against the cold metal.
The smell of the vacant lot lingering with gasoline and whatever chemicals they transport.
My buxom chest pressed further against the metal as I squirm roughly. Grating against the metal. I'm too inflamed to notice my struggles are causing indentations along my milky white bust. The voluptuous tops of my bosom marked with diamond shaped design.
He presses one strong hand against my left shoulder quelling any struggle left.
