Strangers in a Parking Lot

~~~***~~~

I t was a shabby little parking lot, with a line of cheap bulbs strung from a cable fixed atop polls set in the ground to mark its gloomy boundary. By the entrance, an empty payment shack stood, its Plexiglas window covered in harsh graffiti. The door to this cabin was held closed by a mere padlock. Above that, a curled tin lamp fixture illumined a small grim spot below, exposing cracked and oil stained pavement. Only a few old cars were in residence, speckled about like sparse vegetation on a desert plain.

Jessie stood at the entrance too nervous to step in yet unwilling to leave. Smoking a roach, she tugged at a red velvet neckband worn just for this occasion, then bit the nail until it was a stubby mess. She let out a quiet sigh and flicked the last of that funny cigarette into the lot. Upon hitting the ground, a small shower of satisfying sparks erupted.

What the fuck am I doing here? She thought, angry with herself for being so stupid. But she knew what she was doing there, she just didn’t like the answer to that question. It was too distressing to contemplate.

I should go, she told herself. Now!

Yet the girl didn't turn around and face the opposite way. Her legs didn’t shuffle toward the other direction. Instead, she just stood there, in a mild marijuana haze, watching the last remnants of red fade from that dying cherry. Then, as if beyond decision, she smoothed down her skirt, strode inside, and it was as if she had known all along that she would.

Ambling around the shack, Jessie lazily wondered what kind of creature would consent to work in such a miserable place. Peeking inside the window, she saw photographs of nude women ripped from old porno magazines and tacked to the walls. Tame by Internet standards, it only made the sight that much more depressing. Is that what’s meant by generational divide? Disgusted, she backed away and turned her attention elsewhere.

Little things on the ground loomed at her; a cigarette butt here, a rusty beer can there. Meandering about the lot, she came upon the grimy carcass of an old car, stripped of tires. It wasn’t very interesting. Turning to look back at the entrance, where only moments before she had stood, Jessie considered the pornographic posters in that shack. Then she noticed her hands trembling and heart rapidly pounding. Her belly clenched and to distract herself, she began nibbling at another nail. Its cuticle was soon sheared from her finger.

I've got the get the fuck out of here!

Hyperventilating, panic overtook her senses. Manic thoughts raced by. She hunched over, hands to knees, expecting to vomit.

What if he has a knife? What if he has a gun?

And then, the worst fear of all.

What if he rapes me?

Hand to mouth stifled the impulse to puke and she stood upright to bolt away. All this was too much to handle. She had to flee. Yet, the open entrance paradoxically seemed to block her way. What if he arrived just as she crossed onto the sidewalk? Jessie glanced around its border, searching for another egress of escape. Filthy steel barriers obstructed the perimeter. She could scramble over them, but then what of her skirt?

Maybe I want him to rape me. A truly disgusting notion.

That thought had been too much to bear. She had to leave. Which is good, because though she had put herself in this crazy situation at least now she’d get out. Alive! Survival instincts had finally resurfaced. Like being paralyzed in a dream, that first step forward breaks the spell. So she strode toward the entrance and began that short trek to freedom. It would only take seconds and once on the sidewalk she could walk away as if nothing had happened. Or run. Running might be the smarter move.

Then, rumbling and wheels crushing gravel and bright headlights emerged, a car turning into the lot. Those beams disoriented her. She stopped, a pit in her stomach tumbling downward, as she gawked at those twin bulbs coming in. Resignation and dread swooned dizzyingly. She’d have no chance to run after all. But didn’t she deserve this? Like a cow to slaughter, she’d come here of her own free will. It was kind of sexy in a sick way.

Jessie’s nipples pressed out from her white cotton blouse, embossed on that cloth like impressions on a wax figure. Her heart pounded; her cheeks flushed; her hands trembled; and her breath rasped in short, rapid, heaves. The straps to her purse slid off her shoulder and it fell. She hadn’t noticed it plop to the ground, yet an image of that bag, slumped over on the pavement, seemed ominously prophetic.

Maybe that’s how they’ll find her. In a pool of blood, collapsed in the muck, naked and used. The latest cast off by a deranged serial killer. Her ID was in there. Well, she reasoned, when the police eventually find her mangled body, at least they’d know who it was that had been left to rot in this sorry place.

But there was a catch. She’d also put that single dollar he’d demanded in a special pocket just for him. And he’d want that. Of course the creep would dig through that pocketbook afterward. So, if he took the dollar, why not her ID too? He might then sever her hands, feet, and head to throw off forensics. Lunatic murderers do that sort of thing all the time. Don’t they? She’d seen it on TV.

Please God, let me live!

It seemed too morbid a thought. Isn’t this a bit melodramatic? Her eyes remained fixed downward, examining that purse; considering a list of dwindling options. Glancing up, those blinding headlights prevented her from seeing through into the front window. She’d like to know the face of her killer to be.

Then the engine stopped. And in that assault of silence, her belly plummeted like the first big drop on a roller coaster. Jessie loved that stupid amusement park ride. So she steeled herself with gritted teeth behind a warped little grin for what might follow.

~~~***~~~

I t had all seemed like a bit of kinky Internet fun. Well, maybe it had begun before the ‘net farce with el creepo. Perhaps it had started a year prior, when she’d had that short relationship with Adam. He was older, in his early thirties, still young and hot but experienced enough to take her places in the sexual landscape she hadn’t imagined possible. The very first time, he’d tied her wrists to his bedpost with a silk kerchief. And, though scared, she’d let him do it. In fact, it was the fear she’d found most alluring. Those intense orgasms he gave were almost beside the point. But then, after only a few weeks of crazy sex, his employer transferred him to another city and he was gone.

They’d promised to keep in touch. He’d see her on business trips. Perhaps she could move. But then he stopped calling and she’d received an email saying he’d met someone. You’re young, he’d explained. You’ll meet many more men. But she didn’t. Instead, there had been a string of illicit one-night encounters with mere boys met at parties and bars. They’d not known how to satisfy her unique lusts.

Jessie’s latest encounter had been like the rest. At work, there was this cute guy who kept coming in for morning cappuccino. He sold computers in the mall. Her friend, Nancy, who worked at a lingerie store, had dug around and discovered his name. Benjamin, as it turns out. Not that it mattered, because Jessie had made an absolute fool of herself.

Hi, she’d said, frothing milk. Hey, he replied and then asked for a little more chocolate please.

“It’s in the back closet,” she said, gazing into his eyes.

He cluelessly returned the stare and didn’t seem to understand. So she turned off the frother, set down the milk, and leaned over the counter to get close.

“Come with me,” she whispered.

“You need me to help you get chocolate?”

“I. Uh,” Jessie paused. “No, of course not.”

She’d not needed to restock chocolate out front, but after saying that it seemed impossible not to go. So she rushed to the back anyway, cheeks flushed red in embarrassment.

“There’s a line!” Marvin, her dork of a co-worker called.

She ignored him, went in, and sat on a milk crate with both hands to her face. A light knock came at the door and Jessie pushed it ajar to peek through the opening, expecting Marvin’s bitchy complaint. But, to her surprise, it was Benjamin knocking.

“What’s going on?” He asked.

“It’s just that…” Her words trailed off and she peered up through bangs of dirty blond hair flowing down over her eyes. And there was that fear, that delicious nervous expectation. It was now or never. But he still had no idea.

“Yes?”

“I want to suck your cock,” she replied, matter of factly.

“What?”

“Get in here,” Jessie said, yanking him in the closet.

She shut the door and fell to her knees. The ceramic tiles on the floor were hard and uncomfortable, which added an illicit thrill. She wrapped her arms around him, untucked his shirt from behind, and stroked lovely bare skin along his back. The crotch of his chinos was at her mouth, and she gazed up to his face. His eyes bulged, and he looked back down, trapped by indecision.

“I,” he said, hesitating. “I have a girlfriend.”

“I don’t care,” Jessie replied, and pressed her cheek against his pants to feel that exquisite hard cock. She pursed her lips and began blowing air against the cloth and his penis throbbed, trying to burst out. So she unzipped and helped his member escape. Then, without hesitation, her mouth was full of glorious cock. He arched into her and she took it deep, opening her throat as a line of drool dangled off her lip.

“You’re crazy,” Benjamin said.

But he didn’t pull out, so she sucked in reply. Unfortunately, before his slick cum could fill her mouth and roll along her tongue, before she’d had the chance to gulp his masculine pride, before she could complete that feminine conquest, there was a knock at the door.

“What’s going on?” Marvin asked.

“Go away!” Jessie yelled.

“But we have customers!”

“Fuck off, Marvin.”

“I have to go,” Benjamin said, stuffing that beautiful penis into his pants and zipping back up.

“But…” Jessie said, her composure wilting like a dying flower.

He opened the door to Marvin, standing there in a company green apron that barely covered a blue Superman T-Shirt. Like nearly everything superdork wore, this idiotic attire wasn’t company approved either. There are nice white button down dress shirts they provide. But he always ignored that directive and somehow the store manager had never intervened.

 “Excuse me,” Benjamin said, and brushed past.

“Can we get some service?” Someone called from the front.

Marvin stepped in the closet as Jessie clamored to stand.

“You want to see a movie?” Marvin asked like a puppy.

“Are you kidding me?”

“There’s a Bride of Franken-”

“Not even if the survival of humanity depended on it.”

She rushed out the door, wiping drool off her lip, and went to the counter where customers impatiently waited. Not taking no for an answer, Marvin pestered her again and again across their shift. She tried to ignore him. When it became unbearable, she threatened to file a sexual harassment claim to shut him up. Then he returned the favor, threatening to tell the store manager about her closet interlude.

For the briefest second, she considered giving him a pity fuck. It’d be just a few minutes of utter revulsion. They’d get naked. And Marvin -- in his pathetic almost certain virginity -- would shove inside and pound arhythmically against her groin, flopping about like a dying mackerel on the planks of a small fishing boat. Then, before she knew it, he’d be done, confidently asking how it’d been for her.

It was enough to make a lonely chick just up and quit.

Still, the poor girl was young and horny. What she needed was a good hard fucking. Something Marvin couldn’t begin to comprehend. After arriving home that evening, she contemplated her woeful situation.

Jessie had reached a point of utter despair. How could she ever find someone like Adam again? Someone with an articulate voice and the right forceful tone; someone who knew the kinds of kinky things she loved; someone whose presence made her knees swoon by his command, leaving a wet stain down the center of her camel toe embossed panties.

She took out that laptop her parents had bought her two years before during a fruitless attempt at community college. Perusing the nastiest and most perverted porn sites available, she searched for a new fantasy to titillate those inner cravings. But it was all false illusion. She needed more. And that’s when she got the idea. Why not have some online fun?

She created the anonymous email address spermbank@freemail.com. Then went to a personals site that specialized in kinky game play.

Who cares what people think? She reasoned. Nobody will know. I won't even tell them my first name. Maybe I’ll get lucky and really find someone.

She was an island, alone in this world save for family and a few friends. And most of them lived on the other side of the country. They’d never learn this dirty little secret. It’s not like her roommates cared either.

So she posted an advertisement:

From: Spermbank

Bitch sks Hard Cock to Teach Stiff Lesson. Reply if you’ve got what it takes to make my toes curl. Otherwise, fuck off.

Messages poured into her inbox like the deluge of an electronic flash flood. Unfortunately, none of them interested her. Several men simply emailed close-up photos of their cocks and not a word more. A few others meekly asked if she would kindly be willing to meet. One sent her a photo of a pool of vomit, which for a moment did titillate. Then she got disgusted.

Where is a man for me?!?! She moaned inwardly.

But Jessie is a persistent girl. She kept resubmitting that advertisement to no avail. This was no Goldilocks situation, where suitors a little too meek, and others a little too harsh, lined up for their appointed rejections. It became clear that there might never be that one day when the right someone from the precious middle would finally respond. No, like everyone else she’d fucked that year, these notes came from those wholly inappropriate to her needs.

But then, just as hope seemed lost, a most curious email arrived from someone who called himself straightshooter. It said simply:

From: Straightshooter

To: spermbank

I've seen your postings for weeks. Haven't you found someone to fill you up YET?

At first she was annoyed.

Who is this asshole? She thought.

Jessie considered inviting him for a hook-up only to have her Italian friend Vinnie beat the shit out of him. But, unlike the stereotype, Vinnie is kind of a pussy. And he lived three thousand miles away. So she decided to ignore the jerk. But that message kept drawing her eyes back to the screen, a twisted dispatch reminding her of unfulfilled need. She decided to test him and wrote back:

I'm choosy. Definitely not interested in a dickless twerp like you.

A day later she checked email and found his reply:

From: Straightshooter

To: spermbank

As you read this, think of cock sliding in and out and in and out. You're hunched over a car, fingers splayed across its grimy hood. The small of your back curves in desire, while a hand grabs your hair pushing and pulling and yanking and tugging. Ass bumps against groin, groin against ass, again and again and again. Your nails scratch up that old paint like bear claws on bark. Then, you gasp as a finger reaches around to rub your little pussy button. Would you like to be fucked like that little cunt?

Jessie closed the laptop and marched away in shock. Trying to ignore those frightening emotions roiling inside her, she decided to heat water. Yes, some Twinings would help calm her down. In the kitchen, a little teapot sat on the stove while she impatiently tapped a foot. Then, in a huff, she hurried back to the laptop and ripped its clamshell open.

“Fuck you!” She yelled at the screen. And, as if that hadn't been enough, she repeated herself for effect. “Fuuuuuuck you!”

The screen said nothing so she slammed the lid back down. Presently, she had an idea for the perfect sarcastic reply, so she opened it again. Then, she closed it and re-opened it once more. She let out an angry humph and started to turn away, but peeked back at the screen and thought of another snide reply. A twisted smirk formed.

As she considered that epiphany, Jessie’s hand unconsciously began to explore under her skirt. It reached its destination and her fingers began to swirl and whirl and twirl in the exact right place those panties covered. But her attention was on that screen. She sat down on an old wood chair in her room, by that crappy little student desk, staring at the reply button on screen contemplating how to word a nasty message. Then her thighs tightened from a wave of pleasure and they closed on her hand like a pair of scissors.

“What the fuck!?”

She’d been masturbating! And it’d felt good. At least her roommates weren’t around. It’s not like anyone saw. So Jessie pulled her panties down and applied greater pressure, fingers separating that cleave of her nether lips, rubbing her little lump directly. Now she was committed to the act and there was no stopping.

“Oh my God!”

She popped buttons along her blouse until those lovely little breasts were fully exposed. Her belly and thighs and calves clenched in delicious waves of pleasure from increasing stimulation. She reached under her bra and pinched a nipple to the point of pain, swirling and twirling that nub between her legs. Then, head down, hair drooping, stomach cramping, she finally let out a wail as oblivion followed; a climax so strong she thought she might pass out from delight.

The exertion left her heaving and covered in sweat. Jessie reclined with a blissfully stupid grin on her face. A drop of perspiration fell off her nose just as the teapot squealed. And his message loomed into view, demanding attention. So she’d responded with a single word: Yes.

Across two weeks there were more emails, each increasingly aberrant, each, adding erotic charge. He demanded she masturbate at every opportunity, but not to orgasm. She was only allowed climax at his command. This game was a maddening combination of excitement and frustration. Every day, as she tempted yet denied that urge, his hold over her will amplified.

Next, she was to open a post office box. He mailed her a blood red satin elastic neckband and commanded she wear this when playing. Each night she’d stretch it on, that soft cloth snugly wrapping her throat with twisted erotic implications. Then she’d open that laptop to receive another command.

She was to wear that band around her neck at work and masturbate in the bathroom. But not orgasm. He made her take photographs in the stall, her engorged vulva in the foreground, the floor out of focus behind. She had to pinch a nipple until she cried in pain and then take a picture of that areola hard and tender. Finally, he ordered that she use her cellphone to video shaving her pubic hair and email it back. And she did, stroking her juicy little twat on video to give him an additional thrill.

 It was as if, without having met, he read her mind. Digging into the depths of her sexual depravity he could pry loose corrupt inner fantasies from a barely remembered dreamscape and bring them to life.

She’d masturbated countless times yet had not one orgasm for twelve days. A breeze up her skirt would set off a sensual jolt up her spine. She was constantly aroused, each night returning home from work with damp and smelly underwear. At just the slightest touch on that now much too sensitive clit, she’d arch uncontrollably, her body begging for release.

At that point of ultimate weakness and frustration, he sent a command that nearly derailed the game. Yet, in retrospect, was also crucial to making her accept that tryst.

From: Straightshooter

To: spermbank

Who is the most pathetic loser in your life? You know him, even if you don’t want him. But he wants you. And he’s going to have your mouth. For the low, low, price of just one dollar.

At a point when he least suspects, you are to offer a blowjob. Make certain he accepts, like every good little whore should. And when he spews that load all over your tongue, you are to savor his taste knowing I’ve pimped you out to someone even more desperate than you. Gargle it like mouthwash, spermbank. And swallow every last drop.

Don’t bother writing back until this task is accomplished. I want specifics in your next report.

Ugh! Jessie slammed the laptop shut. What a creep. Of course there was only one person who fit that description. Marvin. And no way would she do that for him. She flopped down in bed and considered finding another online play partner. This game had gone far enough. She didn’t even want to masturbate! Talk about a buzz kill. She fell asleep dejected and lonely once again.

Two days later, she and superdork had just closed the store and were cleaning up before ending their shift. Today, he’d worn a wretched mustard yellow T-shirt emblazoned with the word ATARI. The boy seemed to delight in turning off women.

“Batman or Superman?” He asked, mopping the floor.

“What?”

“I mean,” he explained, “would you choose Batma-”

“Shut up.”

“Working with you,” he said, holding that mop and gazing up to the ceiling, “it’s like you can’t even have a conversation!”

“Because that was the stupidest question ever.”

“Each has his good points,” Marvin continued. “Batman is dark, moody, the silent type. But Superman is superstrong and all good and light.”

Jessie stood by the counter with sponge in hand and considered her options. There was a knife in the drawer, it could cut and slash and gouge. And the base to that blender seemed heavy enough to smash his cranium. But she opted for one that wouldn’t land her in prison and threw the sponge.

“Hey!” He said as it hit him on the chest, leaving a dirty wet spot on the center of his green apron. “Why do you have to be such a bitch?”

With a snarl, Jessie ambled toward him, confident and sure. Alarm came to his face and he backed away. But she didn’t relent and soon they stood face to chin. Yet, even though he was a good five inches taller, by his expression it seemed as though she towered above.

“You,” she said, poking his chest, “are a pathetic worm.”

He stepped back and she inched forward, a dance of intimidation and fear as she nudged him by jab and prod toward the rear closet.

“What is wrong with you?”

She pushed him in and closed the door behind.

“Please don’t hurt me,” he whimpered.

“You know,” she said with a scowl, “that I will never, ever, go out on a date with you.”

“Yes,” he admitted, with a sad and pathetic sulk.

“But,” she continued. “This is your lucky day.”

His face scrunched up in confusion.

“Just this once,” she said. “Right now. At this exact moment. I am going to suck your cock.”

“What!?!”

“You do want your cock sucked, don’t you?”

“You’re weird,” he said, trembling.

“You have no idea,” she replied. “Put your hands behind your back. Don’t you dare touch me. I run this show. Understand?”

He reached behind for the doorknob to escape, but she swatted his hand away.

“Please let me go.”

Jessie dropped to her knees in reply. She took his hands and set them behind his back on the wood of that door. As he quivered, she unzipped. He shut his eyes tightly and let out a little groan as she pursed her lips and blew air into the gap.

Marvin’s head tipped up and his fingers clawed at wood.

Reaching in, she pulled his member out from the flap of Six Million Dollar Man briefs. My God, this kid was a dork. A regular Shaggy, tall and beanpole thin, with a little scrawny of beard at his chin. And, like him, Marvin was cowardly, frightened into submission by the slightest cheap thrill. Maybe she looked a little more Velma than Daphne, but a Freddie was more her type. So why was she on her knees in front of this twerp about to suck cock at the behest of some online Scooby Doo? She imagined that anonymous dog’s face, sitting behind a laptop, reading her detailed report, with a creepy and twisted grin as he snickered at her predicament.

But this was no time for long deliberation. Marvin’s hand was already inching toward that doorknob again. She ferociously swatted it away a second time.

“Bad boy,” she said, wagging a finger no.

Then she steeled herself to the task. His expectant cock throbbed in front of her. She was pleasantly surprised to notice a generous length and girth to the member. It turned out there was one part of him not so pitiful after all. She pursed her mouth and tentatively took its tip in.

“Please don’t bite,” he begged.

Jessie pulled out, shook her head and sighed.

“Just imagine you’re climbing into a roller coaster,” she said.

“But I hate roller coasters,” he whined.

“Shut the fuck up,” she replied and shoved it back in her mouth.

At least he’d showered recently; it didn’t taste bad. Rock hard, the veins along his shaft swiftly pulsated to a rapid heartbeat. This little boy needed her loving care. She pursed and gently sucked, her tongue exploring the sensitive bell of his cock.

“Oh!” His knees knocked uncontrollably.

Going down deeper, she took more of him in and let her throat open. He shivered and squealed and let out a little shriek. Then, getting a good seal with her lips, she applied plenty of suction and pulled. The poor boy nearly collapsed to the floor.

“Like that, don’t you,” she teased, gazing up into his eyes.

His lips quivered in reply. As he peered back down, Jessie took him in again and got to work. Legs shuddering, this time he grabbed the doorknob to steady himself and she didn’t bother to swat. Then, getting a good rhythm, she bopped her mouth along his beanpole, slurping and sucking and gulping that cock as his face scrunched tightly, eyes squinting, his head twisting and turning back and forth against that wood door uncontrollably.

There was a little bitterness. Then, a big squirt and her tongue caught a stream of slimy residue. The consistency of egg white, salty and bitter, his jism filled her mouth in spurts. His thighs buckled and cock throbbed with each release. It drooled off her lip, down her chin, and onto the official green apron she wore. Soon, he was done.

“Holy shit!” He screeched, eyes bulging, knees knocking, every bit of him trembling in delight.

Jessie’s tongue was covered with the boy’s slick masculine fluid. Remembering her orders, she swished the stuff around in her mouth, tipped her head back, and gargled.

“What are you doing?”

Staring into his eyes, she proudly swallowed it all in one gulp.

“Mouthwash,” she replied.

“What. The. Fuck.” His jaw dropped.

Standing up tentatively, Jessie’s tender knees were red and raw from that hard floor. There was one last task she had to fulfill with him and her cheeks burned with embarrassment at the thought of asking. All she needed was one measly dollar. But, even though she’d already given the goods, she hadn’t told him the price yet. Talk about bad business practice.

“One more uhhh,” she said, stammering. “Thing.” She winced and her head drooped.

There was an uncomfortable silence.

“Yeah?” He asked.

“Whatever,” she replied, utterly humiliated.

Jessie opened the closet door and rushed past, leaving him with the task of stuffing his boyhood back into those childish underpants.

“Get a move on!” Jessie called into the closet, annoyed with herself. “We have to finish cleaning.”

Then she picked up the sponge and began wiping the counter. He came out with a sheepish grin, took the mop, and thankfully said nothing for once. The two finished, she locked up, and they stood at the front door. He didn’t seem to want to leave.

“Marvin?”

“Yeah?” He said awkwardly, obviously hoping for more.

“There’s one last thing,” she continued, screwing up courage.

“Name it,” he replied with a grandiose smile.

“Uh,” she stammered. “Well. Um. I need.”

“What?”

“Payment.”

“Are you kidding me?” He asked, shocked. “You’re a prostitute?”

 “Marvin,” she said sighing. In that disgrace, a crack on the sidewalk became fascinating.

“You didn’t say this would cost money,” he complained. “I’ve never paid for sex!”

“You’ve never had sex.”

“You know,” he said, stuttering. “Yes I have had sex. And fuck you too!”

“Come on,” she persisted. “Just one dollar.”

“So you’re a cheap whore then.”

“Yeah,” she said as her shoulders drooped, wanting to facepalm. “The absolute cheapest.” She reached up and grabbed the collar of that wretched ATARI T-shirt. “Just pay me a dollar.”

“Hey!” He said, pushing her away. “That’s my favorite shirt!” Stepping back he gave her a peculiar look, then shrugged. “Fuck this, I’m outta here.”

And Marvin rushed away.

It was over. She’d done it. Mostly. Christ, she’d sucked Marvin’s cock at the behest of a stranger over the Internet! How fucked up is that? But she needed that dollar. Still, it’s only a buck. She could afford that. Clearly, the dork couldn’t. She’d just tell straightshooter he’d paid her. Problem solved.

Upon arriving home, Jessie pursed her lips closed good and tight lest curious roommates smell cockbreath. But they ignored her. Then she rushed in her room and wrote that detailed report she’d been tasked to complete. After pressing send, she went to bed and stroked that sensitive clit, careful not to let herself cum. Oh, such delicious agony! To the brink, again and again and again. Masturbating all night, the poor girl was unable to sleep.

The next morning she checked email and found a short reply. He’d congratulated her strength and resolve. But there was another command. This one sent her tummy fluttering in fear and anticipation. Shivers flowed up and down her spine. She couldn’t help but touch herself to an almost instant orgasm. No! She’s not allowed.

In his note, she was ordered to wear that red satin neckband and go to a dilapidated little parking lot on the edge of town. This evening. There, she’d be his collared slut. To be used, body and soul -- by this as yet unmet man -- for an amorous and kinky rendezvous.

And that’s how she found herself alone, at night, waiting to meet an Internet sicko. Someone who wasn’t even a proper acquaintance. To play out this dangerous fantasy in real life. There, they’d be strangers in a parking lot.

~~~***~~~

T hose blinding headlights came in and stopped by the derelict car, illuminating its grubby hood. Jessie backed away until she bumped into the shack, her clean skirt now soiled by dust and oily dirt from its grimy surface. In panic, her hands pressed against the coarse wood from behind as if she might claw her way through. She tugged at the padlock, hoping to tear it from the door and escape inside. But it held. How stupid, she realized. There’d have been no way to lock the shack from the inside anyway.

It was like a scene out of every slasher movie. The young girl, who just wanted to get fucked by her hot boyfriend, instead flees from the killer into a closet. But that never works. The girl’s throat is cut from ear to ear, blood gushing down her chest in throbbing waves to the beat of her dying heart.

 Jessie glanced left and right for a way to run, the exit of that parking lot right next to her. But the thought he might shoot provoked paralysis. Her tongue stuck to the roof of her mouth, dry and rough like sandpaper. A finger picked out splinters from the door’s rough wood behind, until one shard pierced skin. She pressed down hard to feel something -- anything -- until it burrowed inward. Then the car door opened and she considered dropping to her knees to beg forgiveness.

But a figure emerged quite unlike what she had expected. In their email exchanges, he had told her he was young and athletic, a former college football quarterback and all around big jock. He told her that he had what it took to make her squeal in delight, all she must do was follow his every command without hesitation. Instead, the man who came into view was wiry slim, with a cheap dress jacket and thick plastic glasses. He was older than he’d claimed to be. However, at least he held no knife or gun. Which was a relief.

“Jessie?”

She didn't answer and continued glaring at the pavement.

“Jessie,” he repeated, with sternness, “look at me.”

Their eyes met.

“You’re nothing like what you said,” she complained.

“And yet, you’re everything,” he replied with wry mocking. “Not fair, is it?”

She stared at the ground again, not answering. He came closer and there was alcohol on his breath. His finger reached out and hooked her skirt. He tugged. Knees buckling, she shuffled forward until they reached the hood of that derelict auto, awash in light from his car’s headlamps. The man ambled around behind her and the derelict’s grimy hood took center view. She stood, transfixed, contemplating a mass of imperfections along its surface. It felt as though her belly had jumped off a skyscraper and tumbled, pavement spinning ever closer. And she liked that sensation.

“You know you want this,” he whispered into her ear from behind. “You, bent over. A cock. Sliding in and out. A stranger, using you like a cheap whore. Taking whatever he wants. And you, getting fucked like a good little slut.”

“I have to go,” she said, gasping.

“Do you really?”

“Please let me go.”

“I'm not stopping you,” he replied nonchalantly. “Walk away.”

“Please...”

“Or, unbuckle my belt.”

He grabbed her hair and yanked her head. Peeking from the corner of her eyes she caught his gaze and her knees buckled. Then he let go and all she saw was that nasty old hood again.

“I order you to remove my belt,” he commanded. “Now!”

If she dashed away, he would probably be too slow to catch up. She was considering that possibility when he spun her to face him. His pants came into view and her roving hands were already unbuckling the belt. It turned out she couldn’t help herself. He then removed it from her fingers and gradually slid the leather strap out from the loops of his pants.

“Good girl.”

Had he said, ‘good girl?’ How demeaning. Her cheeks flushed from the offensive realization. But, as this distracted her, he whirled her to face the car and raised her skirt. Then began slowly unzipping.

“Wait!”

“On the hood.”

“But, I-”

He took her hair and yanked her head to the side again and their eyes locked together as she glanced sideways. In that moment, his words had force like she’d never experienced. His control set fire to her loins. This man wasn’t a jock, much less strong. Hell, he wasn’t even terribly cute. But there was a strange power to his gaze that burrowed into her like a hornet’s sting. Her palms reached out and hit the hood of that filthy dead car.

“You want cock, do you?” He whispered into her ear, lightly stroking the small of her back.

She moaned in reply.

“So, you want my cock inside of you. Pushing. Thrusting. In and out and in and out.”

“Yes,” came her quiet reply.

“OK,” he said, with the tone of a shrug.

She peeped to catch a glimpse from behind and just then he shoved her face onto the hood, its grime smearing across her cheeks. She tried to push up, elbows jutting out, blouse ruined. But she was pinned. His hardon pressed against her ass as she vainly wriggled and protested.

“Do you still resist?”

Rudely hunched over the car, entirely helpless, he slowly ran a finger up and down the cloth of her flower-print panties. Jessie moaned and her protestations abated. The friction of his finger increased as moistness infused the cloth, and he probed harder and harder. Christ, she wanted cock!

 He asked if this time she would follow his orders.

“Yes,” She relented in a whisper.

“Yes, what?” He yanked her head up and looked into her eye. “What!”

She flinched at his yell, entirely confused by how to respond. An uncomfortable silence followed, threatening to pop the spell like a pin stuck into a balloon. But instead of telling her what to do or say, he slid those panties off her hips and they dropped past her knees to settle around her ankles. Then he unzipped her skirt and it swooshed down onto the ground in a heap by her feet.

Yanking her up, he ordered her to remove her blouse and bra. She didn’t hesitate. Quickly unbuttoning and unhooking, she untangled both garments from her arms and handed them over. He took her skirt and panties from between her feet and tossed the bunch in his driver’s side window. They flopped onto the seat with a little whoosh. And she was entirely exposed to anyone who might walk by. Jessie shivered in fear and delight at the thought of a voyeur passing.

“Where’s my dollar?” He asked.

“In my purse,” she replied, falsely nonchalant.

“And did he pay you that dollar?”

“Yeah. Of,” she stammered. “Of. Uh. Of course!” Her cheeks flushed deep red.

“I don’t think so,” he said. “You’re lying.”

“Am not,” she hesitantly claimed.

“You are an insolent little bitch,” he said and forced her to look first at the belt in his hand and then into his eyes.

“You deserve to be punished, don’t you think?” He asked, annunciating each word with menace. “Shouldn’t a lying little bitch like yourself be punished before she gets her treat?”

He shoved her face back down on to the hood, that belt lightly swaying along her ass, tantalizingly brushing her skin.

This can't be happening. She thought. This can't be happening. This can't be happening. This can’t be happening!

“You still do want cock, right? Shall I punish you so you can have cock?”

There was a delicious pause of anticipation.

 “Yes,” she whispered.

At that moment she relaxed and closed her eyes, resigned for what was to come. Her pussy was open, juices flowing, and she could not help but notice that this was the sexiest thing she’d ever experienced. He might kill her yet, but at least she’ll probably cum first.

The first stroke from the belt hit her left butt-cheek. It stung like a motherfucker. She immediately tensed her legs and sucked in a deep breath through dry teeth. The next stroke went to her right butt-cheek, which hurt even more, and she let out a little shriek. Then, alternating one cheek after the next, he continued striking in quick succession until tears flowed.

“Yes, WHAT, bitch?”

He struck her again and again until her ass seared in pain.

“I don’t know!” She screamed. “I promise I don't know!”

“Yes, Sir!” He replied.

He struck her again even harder than before.

“Yes, Sir,” she wailed back, humiliated and crying like a disobedient child. “Yes, Sir!”

Everything slowed down and tunnel-vision overtook her. The blows ended and he dropped the belt to the ground. Her ass cheeks felt raw, stinging from even the slightest breeze. Slowly, the pain faded to a dull throb and Jessie’s sobs turned to whimpering. A slow pool of tears had formed on the hood, leaving a little clean spot amidst the grime.

As awareness returned, the man’s hand explored between her legs where she remained moist and ready. Moans poured out forth as he worked two fingers inside. She wiggled her hips to force those fingers in and out, while his other hand gently stroked the welts on her tender ass.

“Oh God, yes!” She cried.

He removed the fingers and she heard him sniff. Then he reached around and placed them right at her mouth.

“Clean,” he ordered.

The humiliations never ceased. She took those fingers in and licked them, moving her head back and forth as if they were gloriously hard cock. She wanted it to be his cock. Then she heard the telltale sound of a zipper.

“It’s time,” he said.

Presently, the bell of his member lightly pressed from behind. She arched and raised her ass for ease of entry. But he pulled back ever so slightly and kept the tip of his cock right at the valley of her labia.

“Please,” she begged. “Inside me!”

He grabbed her hair and yanked.

“What the fuck did I tell you before, cunt?” He growled into her ear.

"Inside, Sir!”

“Oh, you'll get it,” he said with a snarl. “I promise.”

Shoving her back down on the hood, her hair bounced and flowed around her face in waves. Back in position, he slid his hard cock along the crack of her ass, across her little hole, and up over her backside. Then, in the opposite direction, he dragged it back down, until it nearly entered her in that proper place and rubbed against her juicy clit. In this manner, he directed that cock very slowly and very gently up and down along her crack. Again and again and again. Anxiety built within her as Jessie realized his dark intent. She lifted her head from the hood peeked back into his eyes with a gasp of horror.

“Sir,” she said, trembling. “I'm scared.”

 “Good,” he replied. “Prepare yourself.”

Her knees let go and she fell to the hood, covering her face, breasts, and stomach in grime. She spread her legs. He was going to do this thing and like everything else that had happened she couldn’t stop it. So she closed her eyes tight, spread her legs as far as possible, and waited in delicious anticipation.

Then, she felt it. At first, just a slight pressure as he aligned his cock to the wrong hole and gently pushed without lubrication. Her little bud of excretion slowly opened to that insistent burden and she grimaced as the discomfort intensified. He took his sweet time penetrating, and she felt every moment of that delightful agony. Slowly he pushed, not letting up, each little thrust forcing her diminutive hole open slightly more. Then, just as she could take it no more, it stretched fully apart and he plopped in.

 At that instant it was unbearable suffering. She yelped, eyes bulging. Uncontrollably, Jessie’s hand reached back to try and push him away. But she couldn’t reach him and he wouldn’t have stopped anyway.

The tip of his cock, that phallus bell, was finally inside. But just. Thankfully, for a moment he didn’t move. But, as the discomfort subsided, she rearranged her hands back into position on the car and raised herself off the hood. Then he slowly pushed further inward. She closed her eyes and grit her teeth but still it was too much.

“It’s too big, Sir,” she complained. “Oh, my God. It’s so fucking big!”

He ignored her. Pulling out just a little bit, he slowly inched back in again. With each stab it became slightly easier until he formed a little rhythm. Soon, Jessie rocked and swayed willingly to his backside invasion.

It was the first time a cock had been in her ass. She’d never felt anything like it, so different from stimulating her pussy. Adam once put his finger in there, but that hadn’t come close to the intensity of this. Her asshole burned from the friction. But the pain transformed into waves of sensuality.

“Oh my God, yes!” She cried out. Then, losing control she yelled, “Fuck me! Fuck my ass!”

His only reply to was push harder and faster. It was good, but there was something missing. Needing direct stimulation to orgasm, she was desperate for release. She took a hand out of position and reached between her legs.

“May I please touch my clit, Sir?”

“No cumming!” He ordered. “Whores don’t deserve it.”

He grabbed her hands, pulling them behind by the wrists. She was not to be allowed masturbation while he fucked her ass. The thought of this denial drove her into a sexual frenzy as he took her mercilessly. Sometimes she gasped in pain, but more often the eruptions were from unexpected pleasure. She could feel his cock throb inside her bowels and she expected he would cum. The thought of his seed dripping out her ass and down between her thighs made her squeeze to clutch his cock and force an orgasm. But, before losing control, he violently pulled out.

“Ow!” She complained. “Why did you stop?”

“Jesus, you’re a shitty sub.”

Yanking her up by the hair, he led her to the passenger side door of his car. Then, he opened it and shoved her in. At this point she was far too gone to even consider what risk this might entail, and instead was simply pleased it wasn’t over. He walked around to the driver’s side and got in.

For the first time, they faced one another in the car’s interior light. She saw his older face, graying hair, and little double chin. She, only twenty years old, just ass-fucked by this man who must have been at least twice her age -- and wanting even more! He glanced down at his cock. In the semi-darkness she could see very light stains up and down the shaft as it throbbed back and forth to his heartbeat. He grabbed her hair and forced her to look in his eyes again, but didn't say a word.

“Oh my God,” she cried in realization. “No!”

“Little bitch, you’re the one who claims to be submissive.”

“But-”

“Jesus fucking Christ, but what?”

“Oh my God,” she said.

“Let your tongue worship my Chocolate sullied Jesus,” he replied, his eyes locked onto hers.

Once again Jessie felt the power of a gaze she knew she could not resist. Then, she looked at his smudged and filthy cock. A palm reached behind her head and she took a deep breath as her head was pushed down ever closer. Smelling it, that disgusting odor, it reminded her of a squalid public lavatory. She thought she might vomit. But didn’t. Instead, the cock wormed its way into her mouth and she took it in like a good little slut.

But it wasn’t without difficulty. Jessie writhed and wriggled in horror as that first taste washed over her. It’s not just that it was bad. It’s not just that the thought of it made her wretch. It was that she enjoyed it. That horrible tang alone might have been too much. But being forced to suck a shit-stained cock by a total stranger, in an open parking lot, seemed so... filthy perverted. She was his soiled little girl, helpless and humiliated. Never had she felt anything like this. Jessie loved and hated it at the same time.

“Go more slowly,” he said. “Blow me like a close lover. With passion. With sensuality. As you clean that shit off my shaft with your tongue.”

“Yes, Sir.” Came the burbling reply.

Eagerly, Jessie dutifully cleaned, gradually washing every last bit with her tongue. And in the aberrant sexuality of it, she couldn’t help herself. The girl’s head began bopping up and down off his rod like a pogo stick. The stranger squirmed as she worked him over, closing him in to release.

Soon, gushing slime erupted in her mouth, slick and warm and salty and bitter and stringy egg white. His legs jiggled and he moaned and she gulped down the first, second, and third gooey streams. Like a good little bitch she kept sucking and swallowing and massaging his balls until not a drop emerged.

Jessie sat up, proud of the accomplishment, as a little stream of slimy dribble trailed down her chin. She gave him a quizzical look as he rearranged that cock back into his pants and zipped.

“Get out,” he said.

“What?”

“You heard me, bitch. Get the fuck out.”

He reached across her lap and opened the car door. This was the ultimate disgrace. He had whipped her, fucked her ass, and made her suck his shit-stained cock. And now he was kicking out of the car like a common little street whore.

“Get out and sit your ass on the ground outside,” he barked. “That's an order!”

Jessie started crying while slowly sliding her bare ass off the leather cushion. Once out of the car, the girl fell to the ground, bare hips in the dirt, slivers of glass biting into skin. The car started.

“You may cum now,” he said, leering out the car window with a sneer.

Heading toward the exit, he tossed her clothes out the driver’s side window, to be left strewn about on that foul pavement. Then the car surged forward and plumes of dust rose out from behind. And he’d never even taken the dollar. It hadn’t really been earned, she supposed.

There the girl stayed, asshole raw, those welts along her behind aching, that spicy dirt aftertaste in her just used mouth lingering, shocked and exhilarated by what she’d just done. Then her hand slid down to that special place between her legs and she rubbed furiously, as hard as she could, until the world was blotted out by a torrent of convulsions.

She was covered in grime. Blood trickled down skin pierced by slivers of glass strewn about the pavement. But she didn’t care. Instead, she masturbated to gleeful climax once again.

Finally satisfied after two weeks of denial, Jessie lay in the muck and gazed at the empty entrance to that rundown parking lot. Marveling in elation at every sick thing she’d done, it was as if she’d just stepped off that roller coaster, gleefully alive and ready to queue up for another ride once again. She let out a contented sigh. Then, standing up, she teetered on unsteady feet to collect her purse and clothes.

I wonder if he’ll let me see him again, she thought absently, stepping into that stained skirt to cover a naked and abused body.