It never occurred to me when I decided to visit a college friend in Asia that I'd end up a victim of different cultural attitudes toward women. I'd traveled in Europe frequently, always without incident. Besides, I never worried about riding public transportation in the middle of the day, not even in New York City. But I was in for a hard lesson about what can happen in broad daylight, if no one chooses to help you.
My friend, who called herself Susie in the states because her name was a bit difficult for anglos to pronounce, suggested a shopping trip into the city. Although I'd already been a little taken aback by the dense crowds of people thronging the streets and offices and stores, I didn't want to seem uncooperative, so I agreed. We walked to the train station and boarded a car that was already almost full to capacity. Sue grabbed hold of a metal pole near the door to steady herself, but as I reached for it, another influx of passengers shoved me back toward the center of the car. I could see Sue, and she smiled at me and loudly repeated the name of the stop we wanted, so I'd be sure to get off the train when she did.
The subway car got more and more crowded, and soon I was several feet from Sue. I was hemmed in on all sides and feeling distinctly uncomfortable with all the inadvertent contact with so many strangers. I didn't understand the babble of words all around me. More than anything I wanted to reach my destination and get off. I swore I'd never do this again. Taxis were expensive, but at this point I would have paid a lot to be outside, breathing fresh air. Suddenly a hand firmly clamped onto my behind. I was startled and annoyed, but not alarmed. It wasn't the first time a guy had tried to cop a feel on a bus or train. In France and Italy, I'd learned it sort of went with the territory, and I'd also learned to be firm but good-natured about chastising the culprit. Usually grabbing the guy's wrist and holding it in the air while asking, "who's hand is this?" brought laughter from the passengers, and a shrug of apology from the offender.
I tried to turn, but couldn't see who it was. So I reached behind me and tried to pull the hand away, but without warning, the man on my left grabbed my wrist and pulled it up behind my back. I struggled, but he kept staring straight ahead, expressionless, as if nothing were happening.
Within seconds, there were two hands fondling my rear, and I wasn't sure if it was one or two people. Desperately I tried to attract my friend's attention. She didn't hear me, so I spoke louder, realizing that most people would probably not understand what I was saying in English. "Susie," I called out, "someone's touching me. We have to get out of here."
Suddenly a hand snaked around in front of me and clamped onto my right breast. Another hand came from the left and circled my throat, not choking me, just hold me still. This time I was loud. "Susie! Help!"
She finally heard me, and peered around another passenger to get a glimpse of me. but my relief turned to horror when I saw from her eyes that she knew what was happening, but chose to simply shake her head sadly and turn her back. I couldn't believe it. What was she thinking?
"Sue!" I yelped one more time. But she didn't answer. When the doors opened at our stop, she turned to me and shouted. "This is how things are. If you cooperate, you'll be fine. It's happened to me a dozen times since I turned 16." With that, she left the train!
More people boarded. I tried to figure out if I should scream but one of them changed my mind for me. He let me see a glimpse of a wicked knife, and the message was clear. But surely they couldn't get away this in a crowded train with commuters and shoppers all around us.
What I didn't know at the time was that this was a common occurrence. Among the men of the city, molesting and utterly humiliating females on public transportation had been elevated to the level of a sport. While most men wouldn't admit to doing it, or even admit to watching it being done, they all seemed of one mind on the subject. Girls and women should not travel alone, and should not wear tight clothing. Whatever happened to them was their own fault because men would be men, and lone females were fair game. Even women who were not molested sometimes left the train only to find that some man had ejaculated on their coat or shopping bags. Part of it, I learned was pure ego. Usually only men with substantial equipment were willing to fuck publicly, perhaps to dispel the notion that Asian men were generally smaller in length and girth. This was not always true, and I discovered it first-hand.
Of course, I didn't know any of this at the time, and for a while I was in some hope that other men would rescue me from these two. Both of my breasts were being gripped hard, almost painfully. I looked down at a businessman seated directly in front of me. "Help," I whispered, but he just stared at the two seemingly disembodied hands that were mauling my breasts. He watched with obvious amusement and satisfaction as my skirt began to creep up my things. The higher it went, the more pleased he was. And now the man sitting next to him was smiling and making some joke I didn't understand. He nodded and looked back at me. The man on my right turned to face me and I realized he was in on it, too. He leaned over, grabbed my face and turned it so that he could stick his tongue deep in my mouth. Other hands were under my skirt, yanking my panties down.
I squirmed, trying to get away, but I had no chance. The hands on my breasts were even more aggressive, jiggling, pinching, squeezing, rubbing. Then I felt his breath on my neck. "Nice big American tits," he whispered. "We like play with big tits. You like, huh?"
"No, I don't like," I said, gritting my teeth.
"Bet you do!" he laughed, shaking them by the nipples. "Bet you got nice wet pussy, too."
The businessman in front of me joined in the laughter and stuck his hand between my legs. The man behind pushed me closer so that the businessman could easily reach and to my shock, he spread my pussy and stroked his fingers through my slit. "Yes," he said, holding up his glistening fingers. "Wet. Must be big slut." The man behind me released his hold on my breasts, but only to yank my blouse open. "We want see your big titties. You show boss, yes."
Apparently the seated man in coat and tie was in league with the three men closing me in on all sides. Maybe even the one seated next to him. But I also learned later than once an assault began, other men often eagerly got into the act. As I said, this was a popular game.
I felt cold metal against first one shoulder, then the other, and realized my bra straps had been cut. Within seconds, it was down around my waist and my naked D-cup breasts were completely exposed. Thanks to the breeze from the slightly open window, and sheer panic, my nipples were rock hard. The man behind me shoved again and I was between the businessman's legs. He half-rolled, half-wadded my skirt up in the front and stuffed it in the waistband. I was standing in front of me virtually naked. He smirked at me as he reached for my crotch. Never breaking eye contact, he spread my pussy lips and ran his thumb over my clit. "you like?' he asked. "You like men touch pussy?"
"Stop it, please," I begged. "Leave me alone."
He chuckled and kept stroking. "No, no, no... you good slut. Wet pussy, hard nipple, very hot." Then he roughly jammed his fingers inside me. At the same time, hands gripped my breasts again, harder this time, flapping them up and down, yanking at the nipples, slapping them together, all to the immense amusement of the men in front of me. I could feel the man behind press his hips against my ass. The hard bulge in his pants was unmistakable. "I got cock for you," he said in my ear. "Big hard cock for fuck cunt. First boss fuck cunt, then we fuck." I was speechless. Surely they didn't mean to rape me, right her on the train, in view of who knew how many bystanders.
The businessman pulled his hand out of my pussy, wiped his fingers on my belly, then nodded to someone behind me, and instantly I was turned around to face the center of the train. Now I could see my other attackers. They were anywhere from 20 to 40. The one who'd first held my arm behind my back glared at me, his expression a mixture of contempt and cruelty, examining me like a piece of meat. The other two leered and smirked. I felt the businessman stand up behind me, hands fumbling. The men on either side of me yanked my legs apart and bent me over slightly. Then they pressed me down so that I had to bend my knees and almost start to squat. All three of them held me firmly in place, two with hands milking my breasts, while their boss had his fun. For him, that meant ramming his hard penis into my pussy without any preliminaries. I grunted at the painful sensation and they laughed softly. Someone grabbed my hair and lifted my head. In front of my eyes was a hard cock oozing precum. The man squeezed my jaw, forced my mouth open, and shoved himself in. Fortunately, his dick was not long enough to choke me, but still thick enough to stretch my lips.
The boss humped me and the man in front fucked my mouth for several minutes to the steady rhythm of the train wheels on metal track. They all kept talking, but I had no clue what the discussion was about for the most part. Occasionally I heard the occasional profanity-fuck, cock, tits, etc. Apparently that was the extent of their English vocabulary. Then the businessman said something to his crew, and the cock in my mouth was withdrawn. A hand forced me head down lower, bending me at the waist until I could have touched the floor with my hands had they been free. Apparently the ringleader wanted a better angle. He plunged in even deeper. There were hands pulling my ass cheeks apart, hands rubbing everywhere. Before long I felt hot liquid squirting on my back and realized they were jerking off on me. All I could see were shoes, lots of men's shoes clustered around me. No doubt I was now fairly invisible to the rest of the passengers, yet I knew they were aware of what was happening. It would he kind of hard to ignore a blonde American woman being raped on a moving train full of people.
Finally the dark-suited businessman stiffened, paused and then groaned contentedly as he pumped his load into my pussy and then slapped my ass hard for good measure. Once again, I was spun around and bent over, but this time it was to service the boss. He pointed to his slimy, wilting penis. "you lick... lick good and clean." Instantly my head was forced downward and his dick was in my mouth. Someone else, seeing the available orifice, plunged into my pussy. More hands mauled my breasts and someone's fingers started rubbing my clit, making me shudder. I dreaded the thought of these men making me cum, and yet I began to wonder if I could avoid it. The fingers flicked and rubbed and the cock inside filled me to capacity.
The train stopped again, and I knew that people passing the window must be able to see me with my head in the man's lap, and someone fucking from behind. But other than a jostling of the crowd around me, I heard no outcry of dismay from anyone. The train pulled out, and so did the man who'd been in my pussy. He sprayed my ass with cum and once more I was turned around. The cruel looking man in the mirror sunglasses, who seemed older than the others, faced me.
One had dropped to my crotch. He gripped my mound so hard I flinched, and for the first time he smiled ever so slightly as he shoved several fingers into my dripping pussy. The two others draped my arms over their shoulders and thus had easy access to my breasts which they began sucking on... very hard. The man in front leaned forward and forced his tongue between lips and I can only describe it as tongue-fucking, the way he drove it in and out of my mouth, covering my lips with his, biting and sucking and thrusting. At the same time, he was punishing my pussy with his fingers, and... to my shame, bringing me right to edge of orgasm, and finally over the edge. Against my will, I had begun humping his fingers, and I began to moan around the hot tongue in my mouth. Then he pinched my clit and I almost screamed, caught somewhere between the climax of my life and the painful insult to my poor clit.
He moved back and smiled more broadly. "yes," he nodded. "big slut."
The train slowed again, but before it stopped, I was pushed to my knees so that sunglass man could put his cock where his tongue had been. I was already choking on it by the time the train pulled away. It seemed less crowded now, but I had no real view, since he had his hands on either side of my head, literally pulling my mouth back and forth on his hard tool. He had immense staying power and my jaw and throat ached by the time he withdrew and used one hand to finish off, liberally coating my face with cum. I closed my eyes and sure enough he covered them too. Now I didn't dare open them because I couldn't wipe the stickiness away.
They stood me up again. More hard sucking at my breasts, fingers probing my pussy, and then another indignity as a finger worked its way into my ass. I yelped and was treated to more derisive laughter. One of them stuck his tongue in my ear and then said, "we fuck you ass too. Whores like assfuck."
The train stopped, then started again. Surely we were nearing the end of the commuter line. I finally dared open my eyes and realized it was dark. The lights had come on, and now the view of what was going on would be crystal clear for anyone outside the train. It was like being on a stage with spotlights on me. I couldn't see out, but I new everyone could see in. I also realized there were very few people left in the car, and there were only men, no women. There were perhaps half a dozen besides my attackers, and none of them made any pretense of not noticing. They were all standing close by, and clearly enjoying the scene playing out in front of them.
With no crowd pressing in, the men had more room to work, and they led me to one of the upright metal poles and wrapped my hands around it. Then they slid my hands down the pole until I was bent over with my torso parallel with the train floor and my breasts dangled obscenely underneath me. Others pulled me back so that my arms were stretched to the limit holding onto the metal pole, then rudely yanked my legs apart. Out of the corner of my eye, I saw a man with a video camera to his eye, the bright light washing over me. This was about the last humiliation. They were filming my rape, no doubt to watch later, post on the Internet, or sell to porn houses. I remembered someone talking about Asian rape videos being very popular these days. I wondered if they were staged or real, like this one.
Another cock was shoved abruptly into my pussy and began thrusting. A hand grabbed my chin and turned my face to the side. At the same time, he shoved his thumb in my mouth and wiggled it around inside. I was looking at my own reflection the mirrored lenses he still wore. To my amazement, his English was actually fluent. He just hadn't bothered to say much so far. "You're on candid camera" he said, displaying a set of even white teeth. You're a star. And the best piece of fuckmeat we've had in a while." He reached for one of my dangling breasts and began slapping it back and forth like a punching bag at the gym. "We don't often get to handle such big tits... more like a cow, aren't you? Or maybe just a doggie bitch. That's what you look like right now. A bitch in heat. Maybe you fuck dogs at home? Huh? And every dick you see? You fuck your daddy, too. Maybe you've got some brothers and they fuck you. I bet you cum every time, just like today."
I tried to shake my head, but his grip was like iron. He made me nod instead. He said something in his own language, and whatever he said was received with much amusement. I realized the camera had moved in closer to catch my supposedly positive response to his questions.
"I told them you are a father fucker, brother fucker, and dog fucker. Big time nympho whore. Can't get enough cock."
He kept slapping my tit, and someone started doing the same thing on the other side, smacking them together. The man in my pussy finished, and another stepped up. I began to realize that the other men, former bystanders, must be lining up for a turn at raping me. I was trembling with both exhaustion and arousal, but they weren't done yet. I'd lost count of how many hard dicks had invaded me, and then spurted cum on me, or in me.
Finally it sunk in that the train had stopped completely, and had not moved for a while. We had reached the end of the line, and I could only assume the train was parked on the tracks.
Finally the man with the mirrored glasses said, "Now I'm going to rape your whore ass. I know you'll enjoy it." He leaned closer, whispering. "And if you ask me very nicely and politely to rape your ass, I'll even dip my cock in your pussy and get it wet before I ram it up your little brown hole. If you don't do everything I tell you, say exactly what I tell you to say, I'll just kill you when we're done. No one will find you, and no one will care." He stared at me, a superior smile playing over his lips. "So, what's it going to be? Dry cock or wet cock. Live or don't live?" And despite the shame of responding, I was terrified of what he might do. He seemed perfectly serious. And I could guess what a dry cock the size of his would do to my anal opening
"Please," I said, choking to get the word out.
"Please... what?" he said.
"Please do that."
"Do what?" He was clearly enjoying this part. He was a man whose pleasure was in humiliating, rather than just satisfying the male urge to mount a female.
"Please fuck me in the ass." I felt the blood rush to my face, couldn't believe what I was saying, and for the benefit of the camera, too. No doubt his whisper had not been caught on the tape, but my words were clear enough.
"You want me to fuck your asshole, stretch it with my big cock?"
"Yes," I said, almost in tears.
"You want us to make you cum again, rub your clit and slap your big white tits while I rape your ass?"
He actually grinned. "You'd fuck that pole you're holding onto if you could, wouldn't you?"
"Yes," I said, shaking with embarrassment.
But he wasn't done yet. He made sure the camera was close and had a good view of my face as I spoke.
"Just so all the men who watch this movie will know more about the cunt we chose to fuck today on our train trip, tell them how old you are."
"And when did you first let some man shove his dick up that hot little snatch?"
I started to speak and he leaned over, momentarily block the camera lens. "What's that?" He pretended to listen for a second or two. "Ah, I'd be ashamed, too, if I were you. Seducing your daddy when you were thirteen, and your three brothers, too. So you've been a slut for a long time. Bet you rubbed your pussy a lot before that. So... how many men have you fucked since then?"
I hesitated. There hadn't been many, only a three of them during high school and two years of college. But I knew that wasn't the right answer.
"I don't know," I finally said.
"Too many to count, but estimate. Fifty?"
I started to nod, but the hand at his side, not in view of the camera, signaled to me. The finger wagged and the hint was obvious. I should answer 'no'
"Then a hundred maybe." This time he signaled me to answer in the affirmative.
"Yes, I guess so."
"You've swallowed what, about fifty gallons of cum?"
"After today, make that fifty-one gallons," he said. "But you're having a good time, aren't you?"
"You ever had such a good fucking with your American men?"