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This text is a work of fiction.
It is intended for mature audiences aged 18 and over and should not be accessed by minors or unsuitable individuals.
Any resemblance to actual persons, living or deceased, is purely coincidental.
Themes involving political, ethnic, or gender-related discrimination, as well as depictions of violence (psychological or physical), exist solely within the context of the characters or the narrative. They do not reflect the author’s personal beliefs or opinions. The author categorically rejects all forms of real-world violence or discrimination.
Readers are strongly discouraged from imitating any behaviors, practices, or strategies described in the text.
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Midnight Sleazy Train
- inspired by the hentai of the same name -
John is a young college student who has no success in his studies, his part-time job or with girls. In his hometown there is the urban myth of a "Midnight Sleazy Train" - a secret train that runs after hours and that is filled with middle-aged, perverted men who wish to molest and female passengers who have been specifically invited as guests or "sacrificial lambs". One night, as John takes the last train home, he realizes that this special train is not only a myth…
Rail 1: Ava
"John," called his boss from the back of the dimly lit convenience store, "You can clock out early tonight."
John looked up from the counter, his eyes bleary from hours of scanning barcodes and handling crumpled bills. "Seriously?" he asked, hope seeping into his voice.
"Yeah, it's been dead tonight. Take the break you need," his boss replied with a wave of his hand, not even bothering to hide his own exhaustion.
John couldn't believe his luck. He'd been nodding off behind the counter more times than he could count, and he was sure he'd drooled on the counter at least once. The thought of going home to a cold, empty apartment and another night of slurping down instant ramen while scrolling through the same old online porn was almost too depressing to bear. At least the quiet of the late-night train ride might give him a chance to catch up on some sleep. He'd heard the stories about the Midnight Sleazy Train, but they were just that: stories. Urban legends to scare college kids and keep them from taking the last train home.
Sometimes, he would read stories about it online, usually on anonymous messenger boards. In some cases there would also be blurry pictures of the train with its blinds closed, but John knew that it was all just bullshit.
He stepped out into the night air and the chill hit him like a slap in the face. The deserted streets were eerily silent, the only sound being the distant rumble of a passing car and the occasional rustle of the wind through the trash. He pulled his jacket tighter around his thin frame and hurried to the station, his eyes scanning the empty benches and wondering if any of the rumors had even a shred of truth. As he descended the stairs to the platform, the lights flickered ominously, casting shadows that danced like ghosts across the concrete. He laughed to himself, trying to shake off the creeping sense of unease. It was just his tired imagination playing tricks on him.
The platform was empty when he arrived, the digital clock above the ticket machines ticking down the minutes to midnight. John leaned against a pillar and waited, his thoughts drifting to his lackluster love life. Girls had always been elusive to him, and when he did get close, it was only ever to satisfy his darker urges. He'd been that guy, the one who took advantage of the packed trains during rush hour, the one who knew just how to make his "accidental" touches feel good to unsuspecting females. It was the only power he had in a world where everything else felt so out of his control. He felt a twinge of guilt, but it was quickly buried under the weight of his own desperation.
John feels a strange sense of pride at how weak and willing the women became to his touch while he groped them.
The train pulled in with a screech, the doors sliding open to reveal an eerie emptiness. John stepped in, the clack of his shoes echoing through the deserted car. He found a seat and sat down heavily, his mind racing with the tales of the Midnight Sleazy Train. He'd heard whispers of it from his classmates, stories of women who had been invited for a night of depravity, but he'd never believed it. It was just a way for the popular kids to scare the newbies, right?
He closed his eyes, hoping the gentle rocking of the train would lull him into a much-needed nap. The headache that had been brewing all evening began to throb in time with the rhythmic clacking of the tracks. Just as he was about to drift off, the train jolted to a stop, and the doors slammed open. A horde of middle-aged businessmen and unsavory characters flooded in, their leers and hungry eyes immediately making John's skin crawl. The car filled up rapidly, the stench of their cologne and sweat mingling with the stale air.
The men all seemed in good spirits and excited, their laughter bouncing off the metal walls like a cacophony of sinister joy. They spoke in hushed tones, their eyes scanning the train car with eager anticipation. "When is it starting already?" John heard one of them murmur, his curiosity piqued. He sat up straighter, his heart racing. Was this...was this really the Midnight Sleazy Train? The rumors couldn't be true, could they?
The train lurched forward again, the lights flickering to a dull red, casting a sinister glow over the leering faces of the passengers. John felt trapped, his palms sticking to the plastic seats with nervous sweat. The train stopped once more, the jolt more violent this time, and the doors slammed open with a finality that sent a shiver down his spine.
And there she was.
Ava Morris. The untouchable goddess of Anthreum College, standing right before him, framed by the open doors of the train. Her long, luscious blonde hair cascaded down her back, the college's emblem blazoned across the chest of her pristine uniform. Her green eyes sparkled with a mischief that seemed almost out of place in the grimy, dimly-lit car. The men around John grew quiet, their eyes ogling the new addition with a ravenous hunger that made him sick to his stomach.
The businessman with thick glasses stepped forward, his grin widening to reveal a mouthful of yellowed teeth. He extended a beefy, sweaty hand towards her. "Thank you for coming, Ava. We've all been waiting for you," he said, his voice a gravelly purr that seemed to resonate through the very air.
John watched, frozen in place, as Ava took the man's hand, her eyes wide with a mix of fear and something else, something darker that he couldn't quite pinpoint. She looked...almost eager. As the men parted to make way for her, she stepped into the car with a grace that seemed out of place in the grimy surroundings. The businessman's hand lingered on her arm, guiding her through the sea of leering faces, and John felt a twinge of anger at the sight.
The doors slammed shut with a finality that seemed to suck the oxygen from the room, leaving only the heavy anticipation of what was to come. Ava looked around, her eyes finally landing on John, who sat frozen, his heart pounding in his chest. For a brief moment, she held his gaze, and he saw a flash of something—desperation? Pleading? He wasn't sure. But it was enough to jolt him from his seat.
The train jolted into motion again, and the red lights cast a bloody hue over the scene unfolding before him. The businessman with the yellowed teeth shoved Ava into the throng of men, his grip tightening around her slender wrist. She stumbled, her school bag falling to the floor, spilling its contents across the sticky linoleum. The crowd of men moved closer, their breath hot and fetid as they surrounded her. John's mind raced, trying to figure out what he should do. He'd always fantasized about having Ava all to himself, but not like this. This wasn't his fantasy, not anymore.
The men began to close in on Ava, their hands reaching out like tentacles, touching her in places that made John's stomach churn.
An older, wealthy-looking man with a silver fox coiffure and a smug smile stepped forward, his tailored suit a stark contrast to the grimy train car. He caught Ava's other arm, his grip firm and possessive. "We've been waiting for you, Ava," he said, his voice smooth as velvet over gravel
His hand slid down her side, his grip firm, as if he was claiming her as a possession.
A perverted man in the tracksuit stepped up, his grin revealing a gold tooth that glinted in the dim light. "Looks like you're in for a real treat tonight," he said, his voice a high-pitched squeal that sent a shiver down John's spine. His beady eyes ogled Ava's breasts, his tongue darting out to lick his lips hungrily.
Ava's eyes grew wider, the fear in them unmistakable as she whimpered, "Please...I can't do this anymore..." The businessman with the yellowed teeth leaned in closer, his breath hot against her cheek. "You don't have to hide, sweetheart," he sneered, his grip tightening on her wrist. "You're enjoying this just as much as we are..."
John felt a mix of emotions. He'd always envied the men who had the guts to take what they wanted, the ones who could get the girls that were always out of his league. But seeing Ava like this, being passed around like a piece of meat, it didn't feel right. He told himself it was just a show, that she was playing along for some twisted thrill. But deep down, he knew better.
Ava's protests grew louder, more desperate as the men's hands began to roam over her body. They touched her in places that made John's own hands itch, but not with desire—with the urge to protect her. He took a tentative step forward, his eyes locked on the scene, unable to look away despite the horror playing out before him.
"No, that's not true!" she blurted out, her voice trembling with fear and something else—defiance. The businessman with the yellowed teeth leaned closer, his breath hot and foul against her ear. "Let's find out if that's true or not," he whispered, his grin widening as he licked his lips. "We all want to get dirty again..."
John watched in horror as the men's hands moved up to Ava's face, their fingers digging into her cheeks with a force that made her wince. They pushed her head back, exposing her neck, their eyes alight with excitement. One of them leaned in, his stubbled cheek scraping against her skin as he whispered, "You're so pretty when you're scared."
A chill ran down John's spine as another man's hand reached for Ava's mouth, his thumb tracing the fullness of her lower lip before pushing it into her mouth. She bit down instinctively, but he just chuckled, his eyes gleaming with sadistic pleasure. "Oh, you're feisty," he murmured, his voice thick with lust. The other men jeered, their hands moving to her shirt, tugging at the fabric.
Suddenly, the intercom crackled to life, a voice echoing through the car. "The guest for tonight in car six is none other than Miss Ava Morris, a current student at the prestigious Saint Anthreum University." The words were met with a round of applause from the men, their eyes never leaving Ava's struggling form. The businessman with the silver fox chuckled, his grip on her arm tightening. "It seems like you're the star of the show tonight, darling."
The conductor's voice grew louder, more commanding. "Everyone, please enjoy the show until you're fully satisfied." John's blood boiled at the sound of the man's words, his mind racing with the reality of what was happening. This was no mere rumor or exaggeration; it was a twisted game played out in the bowels of the city's underground, and Ava was the unwilling pawn.
The businessman with the silver fox jerked Ava's arm, pulling her closer to him, while the other man in the tracksuit took a step back, allowing the others to move in. They surrounded her like sharks in a feeding frenzy, their hands grabbing and groping without restraint. Her cries grew louder, more desperate, and John could see the fear in her eyes as she realized that she was utterly at their mercy.
"Come on, sweetheart, don't hold back," leered the man with the yellowed teeth, his hands reaching under her skirt, his fingers probing her thighs. "The more you fight, the more fun we'll have."
John's stomach lurched as the men closed in, their hands like a hundred spiders crawling over her body. Ava's cries grew louder, her struggles more frantic as they began to rip at her clothes, exposing her flesh to their hungry eyes. "Someone, please, help me!" she screamed, her voice a desperate wail that bounced off the metal walls of the train car. The men only chuckled, their grins wider, more predatory than before.
One of the businessmen reached up to stroke her cheek, his eyes glinting with a sick delight. "Don't worry, sweetie," he whispered, his voice a foul caress against her skin. "We're going to make sure you enjoy this." Ava's eyes searched the car wildly, looking for an escape.
The men around her were like a pack of hyenas, eager to claim their share of the prey. They grinned and smirked, their eyes glinting with excitement as they watched her squirm. "Crying out loud is very important," one of them leered, his teeth shining in the dull red light. "It lets us know you're really getting into it." The others chuckled in agreement, their breath hot and sour.
Ava's eyes found John in the sea of faces, and for a moment, she looked at him with a desperate plea for help. But John was paralyzed with fear and disbelief, his heart hammering in his chest. The sight of her being violated by these monsters was too much to bear, but he couldn't move, couldn't speak. He was just another spectator in this twisted theatre, a silent accomplice to her degradation.
Her clothes were in tatters now, her nakedness on full display for the ravenous men around her. Ava's skin was a canvas of bruises and fingerprints, her dignity shredded to pieces. "What are you saying?" she screamed, her voice hoarse from the struggle. "I really don't want this!" But her protests only seemed to spur them on, their grins growing wider, their eyes more predatory.
The man with the gold tooth leaned in close, his breath hot and foul. "It doesn't matter what you want," he hissed. "You're here to serve us." He reached for her skirt, his hands trembling with excitement as he began to lift it. The fabric clung to her thighs, a final barrier between her and the horror that awaited.
John watched in horror as the men's grins grew wider, their eyes gleaming with a hunger that seemed to feed on Ava's fear. The businessman with the yellowed teeth gave her skirt a firm tug, the fabric tearing away with a sickening rip. The sound of fabric being torn was like a gunshot in the enclosed space, echoing through the car like a declaration of war.
"Please! Stop it! I'm scared!" Ava's voice broke through the cacophony of male laughter and leers. Her words were a desperate plea, a cry for help that seemed to hang in the air, unheard or ignored by the monsters that surrounded her. Her legs trembled uncontrollably as the men's hands continued to roam over her exposed skin.
John's heart was racing, his fists clenched at his sides. He had to do something, but his feet remained glued to the floor, his mind racing with fear and indecision. The businessman with the yellowed teeth reached down and gave Ava's skirt a hard yank, the fabric tearing away with a sound that made John's stomach turn. Her underwear was exposed, the thin lace doing little to hide her bare flesh from the hungry gazes of the men.
The man with the gold tooth took his cue, his hands moving with a surprising gentleness as he reached for the buttons of her blouse. One by one, they popped open, sending a shower of plastic shrapnel into the air. The fabric parted to reveal her white, lacy bra, which was quickly discarded, leaving her breasts bare and heaving with her panicked breaths. The businessmen and other passengers in the car let out a collective sigh of appreciation, their eyes gleaming with lust as they took in the sight of Ava's nakedness.
Ava's face was a mask of terror, her eyes wide and unblinking, her cheeks flushed with a mix of embarrassment and anger. "Please," she whispered, her voice trembling with fear. "Please don't do this to me." But the men only chuckled, their eyes never leaving her body. One of them leaned down, his mouth hovering over her exposed skin, and John felt bile rise in his throat.
The businessman with the yellowed teeth reached for Ava's panties, his hands moving with a casual confidence that made John's skin crawl. She tried to kick out, but her legs were trapped by the sea of male bodies surrounding her. With a final, sickening rip, the fabric gave way, leaving her completely exposed. The man with the gold tooth leaned in closer, his breath hot against her ear. "You're so beautiful," he murmured, his voice a twisted parody of tenderness. "Don't you want to be touched?"
John felt a surge of anger, his body shaking with the effort to stay still. This wasn't right. He'd always envied the men who could have any girl they wanted, but this wasn't what he'd fantasized about. This was violence, not desire. Ava's cries grew more desperate as the men's hands grew more insistent, their fingers probing and poking at her like she was a piece of meat in a butcher's window.
He watched as the businessman with the yellowed teeth slid his hand down Ava's spine, his thick fingers leaving a trail of grime on her skin. Another man knelt before her, his eyes fixed on her nakedness as he licked his lips hungrily. Ava's legs were trembling, her knees knocking together as she tried to keep herself upright.
"No, please," she begged again, her voice barely audible over the cackles of the men. But her pleas fell on deaf ears as they continued their depraved exploration of her body, their eyes glinting with the sick excitement of those who had been granted a twisted privilege.
Ava was pushed to the floor, the cold, hard linoleum pressing against her bare skin, sending a shiver up her spine. The businessmen's hands were everywhere, like greedy octopi, feeling up her legs, her stomach, and finally, her breasts. One of them let out a low whistle. "Look at these beauties," he said, his voice thick with lust. "It's not just a rumor, lads. She's the real deal."
John watched in horror as Ava's body was violated by these monsters, her dignity stripped away piece by piece. She was no longer the untouchable goddess of Anthreum College, but a terrified young woman, her eyes wide with fear and disbelief. Her cries grew more frantic, her voice hoarse from the screams that had been torn from her. "Please," she begged, her voice barely above a whisper. "Please, don't do this to me."
The businessmen paid no heed to her pleas, their hands moving with the practiced ease of men who had done this before. The man with the yellowed teeth reached up and plucked at the clasp of her bra, his eyes never leaving hers. With a flick of his wrist, the flimsy piece of fabric fell away, exposing her pale, freckled breasts to the ravenous stares of the men. They let out a collective gasp, their eyes feasting on her nakedness.
Ava's breasts bounced slightly as she gasped for air, her nipples pebbled with fear and cold. The men leaned in closer, their hot breaths making her shiver. The businessman with the silver fox reached out, his hand cupping one of her breasts, his thumb flicking over the sensitive peak. "Look at these," he murmured, his voice thick with excitement. "Perfect little berries." The other men nodded in agreement, their eyes never leaving her chest.
John's eyes were glued to the scene, his heart racing. He'd always imagined what it would be like to touch Ava, but never like this. The thought of her being used like this, being forced to endure such degradation, made him feel sick.
The silver-haired businessman was the first to take a taste, his tongue darting out to lick Ava's trembling nipple. She screamed, trying to pull away, but his grip was ironclad, his teeth sinking into her soft flesh. The sound of his wet, smacking kisses filled the air, a stark contrast to her muffled cries of pain and humiliation. The other men watched with eager eyes, their breaths coming in short, ragged gasps as they reached out to touch her, their hands moving over her body with a greedy haste.
John couldn't believe what he was seeing. The way they touched her, so confidently, so expertly, as if they'd done this a hundred times before. It was like they knew every inch of her, every sensitive spot that would make her squirm and whimper. They were like a pack of hungry wolves, and Ava was their helpless prey.
The businessman with the yellowed teeth was the first to reach between her legs, his meaty fingers probing her through the shreds of her panties. He chuckled, a deep, throaty sound that made John's skin crawl. "Oh, what do we have here?" he sneered, his voice thick with mock surprise. "Looks like our little guest is already enjoying herself."
Ava's face was a mask of agony as the man's fingers slid under the fabric, his knuckles brushing against her sensitive flesh. "No, no, no," she whimpered, her eyes squeezed shut. "Please, let me go. This isn't what I wanted." But her protests fell on deaf ears, the cacophony of the men's laughter and lewd comments drowning out her cries.
The man with the yellowed teeth chuckled, his eyes never leaving Ava's face as he pinched her nipple hard. "Look how much she loves it," he sneered, twisting the sensitive flesh between his thumb and forefinger. "You're so responsive, darling." The silver fox nodded in agreement, his own hand moving to the other breast to give it equal attention.
John's mind raced as he took in the scene. He'd always thought the Midnight Sleazy Train was just an urban legend, a twisted fairy tale that college kids whispered about in the dead of night. But here it was, playing out before his very eyes—real and raw, a grim reality that made his stomach turn. He'd never thought it could be this...real.
He felt a strange heat building in his lower body, a feeling he hadn't expected. The sight of Ava, so vulnerable and desperate, her body being claimed by these men, it did something to him. It wasn't the same as his usual fantasies, not the gentle touches and whispers of sweet nothings he imagined with her. This was primal, violent, and wrong. But the more he watched, the more he felt himself getting hard, his body betraying his conscience.
John's gaze drifted to the window that separated his car from the one next door. He could see the silhouettes of other passengers, and his heart raced as he made out the distinct scene of a young office worker, her business skirt hiked up around her waist, legs spread wide. A man with a bald head and thick glasses knelt between them, his tongue flicking at her exposed sex while she writhed in pleasure, her blouse torn open to reveal her red, swollen nipples. Another man hovered above her, his hand pumping vigorously at his own erection, his eyes glued to the spectacle before him.
The sight was like a punch to the gut, a mix of excitement and revulsion that left him gasping for air. He couldn't believe that this was happening, that it was all real. He'd always fantasized about being the one in control, the one with power over these untouchable women. And here he was, witnessing it firsthand.
John's eyes darted around the car, taking in the other men. They were all older, all powerful in their own right, and all had their hands on Ava. Each touch, each caress, each brutal pinch was a declaration of their dominance. And as he watched, he realized that he wanted in on it too. He'd always envied them, always wondered what it would be like to have that kind of power.
Ava's cries grew more frantic as the man with the yellowed teeth inserted a finger into her, his grin never faltering even as her eyes filled with tears. "You see?" he said to his cohorts, his voice thick with satisfaction. "Her body can't lie. She's enjoying this just as much as we are."
The man with the silver fox leaned in closer, his eyes glinting with a sadistic excitement. "Look at her," he said, his voice low and gruff. "Begging for it with every whimper." Ava's face contorted with pain and humiliation as she tried to pull away, but the men's grip was too tight, their hands like steel bands around her wrists.
Another man, this one with a thick mustache that twitched as he leered, pushed his way to the front of the pack. He slid a finger into her wetness, his eyes never leaving hers as he began to pump in and out of her with a slow, deliberate rhythm. Ava's breaths grew more ragged, her body responding despite her pleas for them to stop. The man with the gold tooth took his place beside the mustached predator, his own hand joining in the cruel symphony of invasion.
John's arousal grew, his thoughts racing as he watched the scene unfold. He knew it was wrong, knew he should do something to help her. But he couldn't tear his eyes away, the sight of Ava's body being used by these men like a plaything too tempting to resist. He could feel the heat pooling in his pants, his mind torn between the horror of what he was witnessing and the dark thrill that filled him.
Ava's whimpers grew louder, her body responding to the relentless ministrations of the men around her. John could see the way she arched her back, her hips moving in sync with the rhythm of their fingers. Despite the fear in her eyes, there was something else there too—a spark of something that made John's stomach drop. Was she...enjoying this?
One of the men, a portly man with a greasy comb-over, chuckled cruelly. "That's it, Ava," he sneered. "Give us what we want. We know you're a little slut at heart."
Another pervert laughed, "That's bad Ava, if you moan too much, everyone's going to know you're a pervert."
John felt a knot form in his stomach as the man's words hit him like a sledgehammer. Was this what Ava wanted? The thought of her enjoying this, of her being some kind of masochist, only made his arousal grow stronger. He'd always thought of her as the untouchable college goddess, the girl who was too good for the likes of him. But here she was, begging for more as the men's hands and fingers explored her body without mercy.
He watched, his heart racing, as the mustached man leaned in closer to her ear, whispering something that made her eyes widen in horror. "You know you want it," he murmured, his voice a low growl. "You've been dreaming about this for weeks, haven't you?" Ava's struggles grew more frantic, her breaths coming in short, sharp gasps as the man's finger worked its way deeper into her.
John felt his own body responding, his erection straining against his pants. He knew he should be repulsed, knew he should do something to save her. But the scene was playing out like a twisted pornographic fantasy, one that he'd never dared to imagine. The way the men moved, the way they talked to her, it was as if they'd read a manual on the most efficient ways to break down a woman's resistance. They were like a well-oiled machine, each one knowing exactly what to do to push her closer to the edge of pleasure and pain.
He studied their every move, the way they touched her, the way they whispered in her ear. It was as if they were speaking in a language that only she understood, a language of desire and domination. And despite the horror of the situation, John found himself leaning in, eager to learn the secrets of their dark craft.
The businessmen were like a pack of wolves, each one more adept at reading Ava's body than the last. They knew just where to touch her, how hard to squeeze, which button to press to make her moan. It was a dance of depravity, a twisted ballet of power and submission. And Ava, once the proud college goddess, was now their plaything, writhing and whimpering under their relentless attentions.
One of the men, a balding accountant type with a penchant for bow ties, had his finger buried deep in Ava's belly button, twirling and prodding in a way that made her squirm. His eyes were closed in ecstasy, savoring the feel of her soft flesh beneath his fingertip. Another, a burly man with a thick mustache, had her left foot in his mouth, his tongue lapping at her toes as if they were the sweetest delicacy.
The businessman with the yellowed teeth leaned in closer to Ava's ear, his breath hot and sticky with the scent of cheap cologne. "Look at that," he murmured, his voice a wet whisper. "You're so wet for us, aren't you?" He withdrew his hand, holding it up for the others to see. It was glistening with her arousal, a testament to the effectiveness of their cruel ministrations. "It's like a faucet's been turned on," he said with a leer. "Your body can't help but betray you."
The silver fox licked his lips, his eyes glued to Ava's face as the mustached man held her down, his fingers still pumping in and out of her. "Let's show her just how much she enjoys this," he said, his voice a low growl. He grabbed her chin, forcing her to look up at the businessman with the yellowed teeth. "Lick," he ordered, his voice a cold command.
Ava's eyes widened with horror as the man presented his glistening fingers to her. For a moment, she resisted, her teeth clenched and her body rigid with fear. But then, something changed—her eyes glazed over, and she opened her mouth, her tongue flicking out to tentatively taste the salty sweetness of her own arousal. The men let out a collective chuckle, the sound sending a shiver down John's spine.
"How cute," the businessman with the silver fox said, his voice a purr. "No matter how cruel we are, you always end up wet and satisfied." His words were like a knife to John's soul, cutting through any last shred of doubt he had about the situation. He watched as Ava's tongue swiped across the man's fingers, her eyes never leaving the businessman's as she licked and sucked, her cheeks flushed with a mix of shame and arousal.
The man with the yellowed teeth gave a satisfied nod, withdrawing his hand from Ava's mouth. "Looks like she's ready for the main event," he said with a leer, gesturing to the men who were eagerly waiting their turn. Ava's eyes darted around the car, desperation and fear warring on her features.
A burly man with a thick beard and a leather jacket stepped forward, his pants already unbuckled. He grabbed Ava's arm and yanked her to her feet, his grip bruising. "Hey, come over here," he called out, his voice a gruff bark. "We've got two more holes that need filling." He dragged her over to a row of seats, the leather sticking to her bare skin as she was pulled along.
Her eyes widened in terror as she took in the sight of two men already waiting, their pants around their ankles and their erections bobbing in anticipation. John's own cock throbbed in his pants, a traitorous response to the horror unfolding before him. He couldn't believe he was getting turned on by this, by the degradation of a woman he'd once lusted after.
The man with the thick beard was the first to act, grabbing Ava's arm and pulling her roughly toward the two waiting men. She stumbled, her bare feet slipping on the sticky floor, her desperate cries for mercy swallowed by the raucous laughter that filled the car. The businessman with the yellowed teeth leaned in and whispered something into her ear, his words lost in the cacophony of male voices and her muffled sobs.
John felt his body respond involuntarily, his cock stiffening as the burly man positioned Ava over the laps of the two eager predators. The men's faces were twisted with lust, their eyes gleaming with the excitement of the impending violation. The man with the leather jacket took a firm grip on Ava's waist, his hands digging into her soft flesh as he lined her up with the first man's erection.
The balding accountant with the bow tie leaned back in his seat, his cock standing tall and proud, a bead of pre-cum glistening at the tip. The burly man gave her a hard shove, and Ava's body slammed down onto the accountant's shaft, her eyes squeezing shut as she bit back a scream. The sound of flesh meeting flesh filled the air, a sickening symphony of pleasure and pain.
At the same time, the businessman with the thick mustache stepped up behind her, his own erection jutting out like a weapon. He grabbed her hips, his grip bruising as he positioned himself. Ava's body tensed as she felt the head of his cock pressing against her tight asshole. "Ready for this?" he growled, and John watched in horror as the man's hips began to thrust, pushing into Ava's unprepared body.
Ava's scream filled the car, echoing off the grimy windows and rattling the overhead lights. Her body jerked and writhed as the two men began to move in unison, their cocks plunging into her, stretching her beyond anything she'd ever felt before. Her eyes were wide with pain and fear, her mouth a perfect "O" of shock as she tried to form words that wouldn't come.
John felt a twinge of guilt as he watched, his erection tenting his pants. He knew he should help her, knew that this was wrong on every conceivable level. But his body was betraying him, his mind racing with thoughts of what it would feel like to be one of them. To have that power, to make her beg like that. He swallowed hard, his heart racing as the burly man with the leather jacket grabbed Ava's hair, pulling her head back to expose her neck.
The two men holding her down began to move in unison, their hips thrusting in a brutal rhythm that had her body bouncing between them. Ava's cries grew louder, her voice hoarse from screaming, her eyes wide with a mix of agony and unwilling pleasure. The sight of her, so vulnerable and used, was like nothing John had ever seen before. It was like watching a live-action porno, but with the raw intensity of reality.
"No! Please don't move!" Ava screamed, her voice cracking with the effort to resist the overwhelming pleasure and pain that was consuming her. But the men didn't listen. They were too lost in their own lust, too caught up in the power trip of having her at their mercy. The businessman behind her grunted, his eyes squeezed shut as he plunged into her again and again.
The man beneath her, the accountant with the bow tie, was equally relentless, his hands gripping her hips to keep her in place as he thrust up to meet the rhythm of the man behind her. John could see the veins bulging in his neck, the sweat beads on his bald head glistening in the dim light of the car. His face was a mask of concentration, as if he were trying to solve a complex math problem rather than violating a young woman.
The businessman with the thick mustache leaned in closer, his breath hot and heavy on Ava's neck. "What do you say, Ava?" he grunted, his hips slamming into her with the force of a pile driver. "If you don't move, then there's no point in doing this. We want to feel you, to make you scream our names." His words were a twisted mockery of tenderness, a parody of the gentle whispers John had always imagined in his fantasies.
The accountant beneath her took the cue, his hips bucking up to meet the other man's thrusts. "You heard him," he panted, his eyes glazed over with lust. "Your cunt is really nice and tight," he grunted, his voice strained with effort. "But don't forget to service the rest of us too," he added with a sadistic chuckle, his grip on her hips tightening.
Ava's eyes darted around the car, meeting the eager stares of the men surrounding them. A wicked smile spread across her face, the pain and fear momentarily forgotten. She reached out, her hand wrapping around the nearest erection, stroking it with a practiced ease that belied her earlier protests. The man's eyes rolled back in his head, his mouth open in a silent scream of pleasure as she began to pump him in time with the men's rhythm.
The men's voices grew louder, their pleas and commands a symphony of desire that filled her ears. "Yes, baby, just like that," one whispered, his eyes glued to her hand as she worked her magic. Another begged, "Don't leave me out," his voice a desperate whine that made John's skin crawl. She didn't bother to look at them, her gaze fixed on the two men currently filling her.
Her hand moved from one erection to the next, each one feeling different in her grip. Some were thick and veiny, others smooth and hard. The men groaned and thrust their hips, eager for her attention. It was as if she'd become the conductor of a perverse orchestra, each member vying for her touch.
Above the cacophony of male grunts and slaps of skin, Ava's muffled moans grew louder. Two cocks were forced into her mouth, one sliding in and out while the other rubbed against her cheek, smearing pre-cum across her skin. She could feel the heat of them, the throb of their desire, and something within her snapped.
Her hands, which had been limp at her sides, now came to life, reaching out to grasp the erections of the men nearest her. She began to stroke them in time with the brutal rhythm of her rape, her movements mechanical, as if she were a marionette controlled by the strings of their lust.
"Wow, amazing!" one of the men groaned out in pleasure, his voice thick and guttural. "Look at her go!" He watched with wide eyes as Ava's hand moved up and down the lengths of their shafts, her touch surprisingly gentle despite the violent scene unfolding around her. "Such a dirty little girl," another one murmured, his own hand squeezing one of her breasts, his thumb flicking her nipple with expert precision.
John felt a strange sense of detachment as he watched Ava's transformation. The girl he'd once thought of as untouchable was now being used in a way that was both terrifying and alluring. He'd never seen a woman so willing to be a receptacle for male desire, so eager to satisfy their every whim. It was as if she'd been born for this, as if the very essence of her being was to serve as a vessel for their lust.
The man inside Ava's pussy groaned, his voice thick with pleasure. "Ava, you're just too happy to receive this kind of pleasure," he said, his words dripping with sarcasm. "You're a no-good bitch."
The one in her ass added, "Don't worry, we're going to make you feel so good, you're going to beg for more." His words were punctuated with a particularly hard thrust that made Ava's body jolt, sending a shockwave of pain and pleasure through her.
John's eyes darted around the car, taking in the grotesque smiles of the men as they watched her degrade herself. The perverts who were pushing their dirty cocks in her mouth and all over her face laughed, their eyes gleaming with the sadistic joy of watching a once proud woman brought so low. "You're looking really good there," one of them taunted. "Crying while sucking us off, it's like a dream come true."
The two men who were double penetrating Ava had reached a frenzied pace, their hips pistoning in and out of her like they were in a race to the bottom. "What an unbelievable bitch you are," the one in her pussy grunted, his face a mask of pure, animalistic lust. "The more you cry, the tighter your cunt gets. It's like your body's begging for more." His words were a twisted form of praise, a perverse acknowledgment of her unwilling participation in their sick games.
The man in her ass added his own twisted commentary. "Even your asshole's clenching around me like it loves it," he groaned, his grip on her hips tightening until his knuckles were white. "You're like a little whore, aren't you? Just can't get enough."
Ava's eyes rolled back in her head as she took the two cocks in her mouth, her throat working around them like a pro. John couldn't help but feel a twinge of admiration—disgusting, yes, but also undeniably impressive. Her hand moved from one cock to the next, stroking them with a practiced ease that seemed almost detached from the fear and pain she'd shown earlier. It was as if she'd accepted her fate, embraced the role she'd been cast in.
Her voice, muffled by the thick flesh in her mouth, managed to form coherent words, "It's really hot!" she exclaimed, her voice thick with lust and something that might have been genuine enthusiasm. The men around her cheered, their eyes alight with the thrill of her submission.
Her hand didn't stop moving, caressing and stroking the erections around her. "I really don't want this..." she murmured, her voice barely audible above the grunts and slaps of the men's bodies.
And yet, the words that followed sent a shock through John. "But my cunt feels so very, very, very hot!" she moaned, the conflict in her eyes a maelstrom of fear, disgust, and a disturbing arousal that seemed to grow stronger with every second. The men took her words as encouragement, their pace increasing until it was a blur of flesh and grunts.
The businessman with the yellowed teeth leaned back, his expression one of triumph as he erupted inside her, his seed mixing with the others'. Ava's body spasmed, her legs tightening around the man in her pussy as she was bombarded with wave after wave of thick, hot cum. The burly man with the mustache followed suit, his own orgasm causing him to pull out of her ass and shoot his load onto her back.
The sight was obscene, a tableau of depravity that seemed to go on forever. The men had used Ava's body in every way possible, leaving no part of her untouched by their vile seed. Her once pristine skin was now a canvas of sticky, white mess, her hair matted to her face and neck with the sticky fluid of their lust.
The businessman with the yellowed teeth had barely withdrawn his cock before the bespectacled man took his place, his glasses askew on his sweaty face. He leaned in close to her, his breath reeking of stale coffee and mint gum, and whispered, "Now, Ava, lick it..." He scooped up a rogue droplet of cum that clung to her heaving breast, the gesture almost tender.
Her eyes flicked to his, a mix of resignation and something akin to curiosity. With a trembling hand, she reached up and took his finger into her mouth, her tongue swirling around the tip to clean it off. The taste was bitter and foreign, but she closed her eyes and took it, her cheeks flushing with a mix of shame and arousal. The men around her cheered, their excitement palpable as they watched her submit so completely.
Ava's hand didn't stop moving, her strokes growing bolder as she worked the cocks before her. John's own breath grew shallow, his cock straining against the fabric of his pants as he watched. It was as if he was under a spell, unable to look away from the scene playing out before him. The men took her actions as an invitation, closing in like sharks scenting blood in the water.
"Hey Ava, take a look at this shlong!" another pervert called out, holding up his erection with a grin that made John's stomach churn. Ava's eyes, glazed with a mix of fear and excitement, followed the gesture. Without a word, she leaned forward and took the man's cock in her mouth, her movements mechanical and practiced.
The businessmen around her cheered and clapped, their faces a twisted mix of lust and amusement. "Look at her go!" one exclaimed, slapping the back of her head in a show of camaraderie that made John's skin crawl. Ava's eyes remained fixed on the man's, a silent plea for mercy that went unheard as she bobbed her head up and down his shaft.
The man she was riding, a heavyset man with a ring of sweat around his collar, grinned down at her, his eyes hooded with satisfaction. "Wow, she's really working those hips," he said, his voice a mix of amazement and pride. The man's belly jiggled with each thrust, a sickening counterpoint to the smooth, sensual way Ava's body moved. It was a dance of depravity, and she was the star performer.
Her mouth was a blur around the cock in her mouth, her cheeks hollowing as she took him deep. The man's eyes rolled back in his head, his hips bucking up to meet her. "Fuck, yeah, baby," he moaned, his hand coming up to grasp the back of her head, forcing her down even further. Above her, the man with the mustache watched with a twisted smile, his own erection in her hand.
"Ava, you really like this," he panted, his grip on her hip tightening as he plunged into her ass. "Aren't you just a little slut for us?" The words were a challenge, a question that demanded an answer.
Her eyes locked onto his, a spark of something fierce igniting in their depths. She took the cock out of her mouth with a wet pop, a string of saliva connecting it to her lips. "Do you want to hear me say it?" she asked, her voice thick with desire. "Do you want me to tell you how much I love being used like this?"
The man's eyes widened, his smile growing even more sadistic. "Yes," he hissed, his grip on her hip tightening until it was almost painful. "Tell us all how much you love it."
Ava's voice was a hoarse whisper as she spoke, her words barely audible above the cacophony of male lust. "I...I love it," she panted, her hand moving to stroke the cock of the businessman who'd just asked. "It's all I can think about."
Her confession sent a ripple of excitement through the group, the men's eyes lighting up with a feral hunger. The man with the mustache took her by the chin, forcing her to look at him. "Say it again," he ordered, his voice a low growl. "Tell us how much you love being our little whore."
Ava's eyes searched the faces around her, finding John's in the crowd. For a brief moment, she looked lost, as if she were trying to remember who she was before she'd stepped onto this train. But then she took a deep breath, her chest heaving, and her gaze hardened. "I love it," she repeated, her voice stronger now. "I love being used by you all. I can't help it - if I see a dirty cock, I get very excited..."
The men in front of her couldn't hold back at this revelation. With a collective groan, they erupted prematurely, their hot cum spurting all over her face. It was a sticky, humiliating mess, but she didn't flinch. Instead, she leaned into it, her tongue darting out to catch the ropes of white that splattered her cheeks and chin. John felt his cock pulse in his pants, his body responding to the sight of her complete and utter degradation.
"More," she begged, her eyes glazed with a hunger that was both terrifying and thrilling. "Please, give me more!" The men around her, their cocks still hard and demanding, took this as an invitation to continue their depraved display. They formed a circle around her, jerking themselves off in a frenzied dance that was as mesmerizing as it was disturbing.
The first rope of cum shot out, painting her face in a thick, sticky line. Ava's eyes fluttered shut as she felt the warmth spatter against her skin, a soft moan escaping her lips. Another followed, and then another, until her face was a canvas of white and gray, the stench of male desire hanging heavy in the air. The men groaned and grunted, their eyes locked on her, their strokes growing more urgent with each passing second.
Her voice was a mix of pleasure and pain, a symphony of degradation that seemed to echo through the very walls of the train car. "It's so hot," she gasped, her voice a breathy whisper that seemed to resonate with every pulse of their cocks. "I want more!"
The men around her didn't need any further encouragement. They jerked themselves faster, their eyes never leaving her face as they painted her with their cum. The sticky mess covered her cheeks, her nose, her forehead, and even her breasts, which were now smeared with the evidence of their lust. She looked like a macabre painting, a grotesque representation of their twisted desires.
One by one, they came, their semen raining down on her like a perverted shower of despair. It dripped down her chin, pooling in the hollow of her throat, and sliding down to stain her breasts. Her hair was plastered to her face, her eyes squeezed shut as she took it all in, her mouth open in a silent scream that seemed to echo the cries of every woman who'd ever been used by a man.
John watched in horror as Ava's body convulsed with every shot, her muscles tightening around the cocks still inside her. The men didn't stop, didn't pause, didn't even seem to notice that she was now nothing more than a receptacle for their seed. It was as if she'd ceased to be human in their eyes, had been reduced to a thing to be used and discarded.
When the final spurt of cum hit her face, Ava's eyes flew open, and she looked directly at John, her gaze piercing through the fog of lust that had taken hold of the room. For a brief moment, he saw the girl he'd always known, the one who'd been his friend, his crush, his unattainable ideal. But then that look was gone, replaced by a smoldering hunger that was almost feral.
Her hand didn't miss a beat, stroking the cocks before her as if they were the only things that could keep her tethered to reality. "Keep going," she urged, her voice a needy whine that sent shivers down John's spine. "Don't stop, please."
One of the men, his face red and sweaty, leaned in to whisper in her ear, his voice a sickly sweet caress. "You're such a good little slut, aren't you?" His words were barely audible, but they seemed to resonate in the very air around them. Ava's eyes closed, and she nodded, a single tear trickling down her cheek to mingle with the mess of cum.
John's heart hammered in his chest, his mind racing as he watched the scene unfold. He felt a strange mix of arousal and repulsion, his body torn between his innate need to protect Ava and the dark, primal part of him that reveled in the spectacle before him. He knew he should look away, should do something—anything—but he was frozen in place, his eyes glued to her contorted face as she took their abuse without protest.
It was as if he could feel the weight of their gazes on him, the unspoken accusation that he was just as much a part of this as they were. And then, as if the universe had read his thoughts, one of the men broke the spell. He was a short, pudgy man with a greasy comb-over, his eyes glinting with malicious amusement as he turned to John. "What's wrong?" he jeered, his breath hot and sour. "First time?"
