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Message-ID: <63611asstr$1447765801@assm.asstr-mirror.org>
From: RavensDrkGothic@aol.com
Full-name: RavensDrkGothic
Subject: {ASSM} Nighttime at the Railroad Station
Lines: 312
Date: Tue, 17 Nov 2015 08:10:01 -0500
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Newsgroups: alt.sex.stories.moderated,alt.sex.stories
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Nighttime at the Station   (Gangrape)
 
    The night had been dragging as  Patrice waited for the last train to 
arrive.  The heavy rains had already  delayed it over an hour.  Smiling as she 
slowly raised her left leg,  exaggerating the movement as she watches the 
young man across from her on the  bench.  His eyes drawn once again to the 
bare flesh of her thighs, head  ducking slightly as if to catch a glimpse of 
the flesh hidden in a patch of  darkness under her short tight skirt.  Sett
ling her leg slowly on the  bench feeling the rough wood on the backs of her 
thighs, as she slumps a little  on the bench, her knees spreading apart.  
Feeling guilty as she teases the  young man.  Not able to hold back a soft 
tinkle of laughter, and seeing the  man look up at her face with the sound.  His 
face turning red as he meets  her eyes.  A wink and a small smile to the 
man, as his "sorry" is caught by  the night air.  Echoing in the large almost 
empty waiting  room.
    Quickly he rises, hand sort of  shielding the bulge in the front of his 
pants as he moves to the Men's  Room.  Bored as she looks around and then a 
few minutes later the young man  walking back to the bench, hesitating 
whether to sit in the same spot of  not.  A spot of moisture just to the side of 
his fly.  Patrice  wondering what might have been the cause as she 
nervously moves her legs,  opening and closing them.  The man as much as he tries, 
not able to pull  his eyes away from the saucily dressed hooker.  A hand 
reaching to the vee  of her top, adjusting the small breasts within.  Finger 
stroking across the  semi hard nipples.  Eyes closing for a moment with the 
sensation, then  tugging on the top, to let the bumps of the rubbery nipples 
dart at the front of  her blouse.  Looking to see the young man, slowly 
licking his lower lip  nervously.
    "See something you like?"  The  question startling him.  Smiling again 
as he shakes his head no, his body  language not agreeing.  A sound of the 
front door opening and all of the  bored eyes turn to the newcomer. 
    Pulling on the heavy door, the young  woman walks into the room.  The 
sound of her heels resoundingly loud in the  open empty room.  A very 
attractive young woman, dressed in a sharp  charcoal gray business suit, slides 
through the door, her purse and   packages gathered tight to her chest, as her 
head swivels side to side.   The stark lightning, not doing her complexion 
justice.  Each step of hers  measured and precise, knowing exactly that all 
the eyes are on her.   Showing a confidence that she has earned from hard 
work a shrewd business  mind.
    Eyes drawn to the window that reads,  Tickets.  The darkness in the 
framed area.  The look on her face as  she realizes that there is no one there. 
 Reaching for her cell phone as  she looks around the barren room for a 
clock.  The look of dismay as she  reads the time.  Patrice feeling a bit of 
compassion, "there is another  train leaving for New York in about 30 minute, 
last one of the night."  The  girl nodding, as she takes in the older woman, 
her attire, not that of a  matron.  Eyes tightening a little as the blonde 
girl makes her judgement as  to the type of woman that spoke to her.  Again 
looking around at the  squalor of the room.  The blend of stark lighting and 
the dark  corners.  The smudged walls, built up with years and years of  
smokers.  The small newspaper stand, a curtain of steel screens fortifying  it 
from the night people that populate this area of town.  The sign, that  
announces the presence of law enforcement on the premises, as meaningless as 
the  extra patrol car parked outside the building.  Both empty.
    Finally a hesitant step as the young  woman looks around, trying to 
decide on a seat and eyeing the Restroom area at  the same time.  Pulling her 
arms tight to her chest, she walks to the  Restrooms,  hesitant with her hand 
to turn the grimy doorknob.   Wondering what she would find in the room 
beyond.  The door turning and the  small restroom, with one stall, a sink and 
mirror the only items in the  room.  Gingerly setting her packages on the 
edge of the sink, she twists  the lock on the door and after placing layers and 
layers of toilet tissue, she  then takes a few Kleenix from her purse to 
lay over them.  Quickly without  touching the tissues, she relieves her 
immediate needs.  And wiping and  washing her hands with the small bottle from her 
bag.   Shivers at the  dungy room.
    Jennifer opens the door and faces the  room.  Shivering again as the 
dampness of the night air is coupled with the  dots of moisture that speckle 
her suit.  Looking around at the almost empty  room, she moves with a loud 
clicking of her heels on the floor, to sit on the  bench with the young 
man........distanced by a good ten feet, but close enough  to be around a normal 
looking human.  A look of distaste crosses her face  as she looks at the 
hooker.  Wondering how a person can demean themselves  to sell their bodies for 
a few dollars.  Shaking at the thought of strange  men paying for her 
body......shaking again at the thought of any man using her  body.  Lesbian, well 
maybe not lesbian, but women are so much more  preferable.  Thinking, of her 
friend Susan, comparing the hooker and  Susan.  The same age or close; but 
worlds apart.  Susan, so  sophisticated and sure, and provacative.  This 
"woman" nasty and most  likely crawling with disease, flashing her long legs.  
Her skirt a tent  between, hiding who knows what nastiness.  Again shivering.
    Slowly crossing her nyloned legs,  demurrly keeping her thighs 
together.  The total antithesis of the low life  across from her.  If the whole 
outfit cost twenty dollars that would be  alot.  Smoothing her skirt over her 
toned thighs, Jennifer shaking her head  and thanking god for a good 
upbringing.  Then again thinking of Susan,  squeezing her legs together as she 
realize that she can almost smell her scent,  see the the black leather boots, the 
ways she crosses her legs, each move slow  and deliberate, knowing the 
affect on those watching.  Taking a deep breath  as she can visualize the small 
woman, so in command.
    Eyes opening as she hears the whistle  of a train.  The clanging of the 
wheels loud as it slows and pulls  into the siding below the waiting room.  
The young man rising from the  bench and pushing through the doors to steps 
leading down to the train.   Looking one last time at the hooker.  Jennifer 
moves her eyes to the  hooker.  Eyes locking for a moment.  Seeing the 
despair in them and  then a small smile playing over the lips.  The eyes veiled 
again, as the  hooker sits up and stands, slowly adjusting her skirt and top 
as she looks at  the  young business woman.  An older man walks to the 
doors as a few  passengers walk tiredly into the room.  The hooker cocking one 
leg as she  watches the sad parade of commuters.  Trying to catch an eye; but 
no takes  in the small troop of people.  The young man and a young woman 
pop through  the doors last.  Arm and arm talking animatedly, the man giving 
one last  look at the short skirted floozy.  Then out into the night air, the 
sound  of the rain loud on the concrete. 
    The hooker looks to Jennifer, then  walks over to the bench.  
"Sweetie,"  her hand reaching to touch a  wrist.  Jennifer cringing at the touch.  
Looking up, catching the  scent of the cheap perfume.  Wondering what it is 
hiding.  "You can  buy a ticket on the train.  Sit in the front of the train." 
 "Are you  okay?"  A look of concern on the hookers face.  See a brief 
flicker of  what, fear, cross Jennifer's face.
    "I'm okay, thanks."  Short  precise response, not wanting to talk to 
this "street person" or have her touch  her.  Moving her arm away so that the 
trollops hand is touching  air.
    "Sorry."  Patrice straightening  and then turning away, and then back.  
"I know you don't approve of me; but  I could sit with you for a few 
minutes to till the train  arrives."
    Jennifer horrified at the thought of  associating with this whore.  
"Thanks, but I am good."  Patrice  looking into her eyes one more time, not 
seeing the look of confidence that the  girl had earlier.  Almost tempted to 
sit down in spite of the rebuff; but  then turning and leaving, her heels 
slowly marking her path to the front  door.  Pushing it open, Patrice heads up 
the Main Street hill, hoping that  maybe she can find some marks in the bars 
on the street.  The rain, wetting  her clothes quickly.  Plastering them to 
her body.  Shivering as she  slowly walks from the train station lot to the 
street. 
    "Hey girl."  Looking up, seeing  three young black men.  Local 
hoodlums.  "Drop dead,"  the whore  brushing past the men.  Knowing that her pimp 
keeps them in line.   "Fuck you bitch."  as she moves up the street.
    Jennifer sits alone in the waiting  room.  The gloom deep in the 
corners.  Little rustlings of sound  making her head pivots side to side.  
Standing indecisively, then her heels  clicking loudly to no ears but her own as 
she moves again to the Restroom.   Quickly, not even really needing to pee, a 
few drops of moisture and then  walking out of the door, hearing voices and 
looking to the vending  machines.  The door behind her slamming loudly.
    Three sets of eyes turn to look at  her.  "Hey momma, what you at."  
One of the black men asks as he turns  to her.  Walking slowly to the girl, 
the three men have fanned out.   The one asking the question in the middle.  
Jennifer, feeling fear as she  hears the shuffling of their feet on the 
floor.  Looking she sees the sign  over the doors..........Trains........pulling 
quickly at it, she moves into the  collonade of dirty windows, the concrete 
floor and old rusty pillars of steel,  naked in their look.  The lighting 
poor, as she looks down the long  corridor.  Hesitating for a moment and then 
her heels beating a quick  tattoo on the floor.  A stumble and twist of her 
ankle,a package falling  and bending to retrieve it, and then the booming 
sound of the door behind  her closing.  Looking back, she sees the men moving 
quickly down the sides  and middle of the floor. 
    Straightening up and turning to run  on her oh so unsensible heels.  
She sees two of the men move past her along  the windowed corridor.  "Hold up 
momma, let us help you with your  packages."  The voice loud in her ear, 
turning she looks at the young black  man.  "I have to go,"  the inane words 
empty as she turns around and  finds the other two men blocking her way.
    "No, no, no, I don't think so.   Not till you give me a kiss."  The 
look of terror on Jennifer's face barely  preceding the first small tear.  
"I'll scream."  Her words barely a  whisper from her trembling lips.  "I don't 
think so girlie.  There is  no one here to here you.  The ho was the last 
person around."  His  sinewy snaking out like the strike of an asp.  Grabbing 
her arm, pulling  her around to face him as he steps up to her.  The soft 
"snick" and a pin  prick on her stomach.  The blade, pressed indenting the 
fabric of her  skirt.  "Now for the kiss."  The black man's lips pressing 
against  hers.  Dry, at first and then wet as he pushes his saliva against her  
lips.  Tongue pushing hard, forcing her lips apart.  Shaking as she  stands, 
the press of bodies around her, not even letting her turn.  Moving  her head 
back away from his lips.  The smell of alcohol strong in the airy  corridor. 
    Looking incredulously at the man, she  feels the packages pulled from 
her arms, her pocketbook, the strap digging into  her shoulder and then free. 
 "You stuck up white bitch.  Couldn't me  and my bois a kiss, well you will 
give us more now cunt." Lifting his  baseball cap and pulling a dirty dew 
rag from his head, he hands it behind  Jennifer.  The cloth pulls across her 
lips.  Tightening her lips, and  clamping her teeth shut, she fights 
wordlessly  against the strip of cloth,  a knot in the middle of it.  The leader of 
the black youths, reaches  forward and takes his fingers and squeezes on 
her nose, fingers pressing the  nostrils shut.  His eyes looking down into her 
as she fights to keep her  mouth closed and fights for breath.  With a 
quick gulp, her lips open and  the knot lodges in her mouth, tied quickly behind 
her head.
    The wordless struggle just  beginning.  Her arms pulled back and held 
as the black man steps  back.  His knife sliding up her left leg, the inner 
thigh.  The blade  cutting through the thin strands of her hose.  Tearing 
streaming down her  cheeks, as she tries to hold still.  Legs trembling as the 
blade traces a  slow line of red up her white thigh.  The hose separating 
pale flesh  exposed.  The hand pushing her skirt up bunching it around her 
hips in  front.  The knife now pressing against her silk panties.  Feeling the  
blade sliding over and then centering on her slightly round lips.  Not the  
tip; but the full blade caressing the clothed lips, indenting the material 
into  the slit.  Then with a quick flick of his wrist, severing the cloth, 
pant  leg to waist.  The panties hanging around her right  thigh. 
    Gasping into her gag as her arms are  pulled straight back, bending her 
over, helpless.    Wrists  twisted savagely.  The pain rising to her 
shoulder sockets. Then being  released as she falls off balance to the hard 
concrete floor.  Knees  sending flashes of pain to her brain.  Skin roughly 
abraided from her  knees.  Slumped, half kneeling half laying.  The cool concrete, 
no  relief to the pain and terror seizing her body.  "Strip you stupid 
white  bitch.  Show me what you are hiding in your expensive clothing.  Your  
holes are no better than those of the ho we passed on the way in  here."
    Sobbing into the gag, Jennifer looks  up helplessly.  The young man, 
leans over and pulls her roughly to her  knees.  Then his hand reach down and 
pull her suit jacket down over her  arms.  Exposing the sheer white blouse.  
Thick muscular fingers easily  rip the light fabric from her chest.  
Buttons, flying through the  air.  The nude bra, quickly cut in front, between her 
breasts.  The  round breasts spilling free as she kneels helpless, head 
bowed, eyes squeezed  tightly shut, trying to will this to be a dream, a bad 
dream.  One heel  lying beside her the other still on her foot.  Her skirt 
bunched around her  hips, the bare flesh rubbing on the cold concrete.  Her 
panties, hanging  from her right leg.  Impatient the black man, takes the knife 
and saws it  through the material of her skirt.  Yanking the skirt and 
throwing it to  the side.  Leaning over her reaches down and grabbing full 
handfuls of  breasts, pulls her to her feet. 
    Rough hands are reaching around her  waist and under her ass.  Fingers 
probbing at the flesh of her pussy.   Gasping as her dry flesh is parted, 
nails prying at her lips.  Then feeling  a trickle of wetness on her thighs as 
she wets herself.  Everything  happening so quickly, not having time to 
think, to understand.  Just moving  from sensation to sensation.....all of them 
bad.
    Releasing her breasts, the finger  imprints dark red and mottled in her 
soft white skin.  The man behind her,  forcing her down to her knees again. 
 Riding her down with his body.   Feeling the bulge in his pants as he 
presses on her ass cheeks.  Hands  bracing, palms on the floor, kneeling and 
then feeling her legs pushed  apart.  The warm flesh of the man behind her 
rubbing on her ass cheeks and  then sliding down to her thigh, as he lifts up 
and pushes at her labia.   His cock head, moving underneath her and then 
parting her lips.  A quick  push of his hips and the head is in her cunt. 
    Shock, pain a feeling of being  stretched as he pumps again.  The head 
and shaft moving further into her  tunnel.  Her piss helping to lube the 
entrance.  Another jerk of hips  and her tunnel is tight around the thick black 
shaft.  The small opening  expanding around the hard shaft of flesh.  
Trying to close her legs, but  helpless with his between hers.  Eyes wide in 
disbelief.  The only  shaft to have entered her pussy was her dildo.  Now her 
virginity taken, by  a black man, raping her.  Breathing ragged as she tries 
to gasp for  breath.  The gag soaking and filling her mouth.  Tasting the 
oils from  the mans head as her mouth works the gag, trying to breath.
    Feeling her hair yanked savagely,  looking up into the crotch of the 
leader of the group.  Eyes pulled open  wide.  Seeing the swaying hunk of 
black flesh.  Pulsing in front of  her face.  Long and thick and hard.  The 
veins sticking out of the  shaft, defined.  The mushroom head leaking moisture.  
Feeling her head  jerked as the knife cuts the gags and a clump of hair 
with it.
    Feeling her scalp being pulled back  from behind, as the one black man 
continue to fuck her pussy.  This cock  filling her tunnel, moving in and 
out, the flesh stretching and then closing  behind.  Her pussy still dry, as 
the thick cock stabs again and again into  her hole.  Eyes wide as the 
mushroom head is pushed at her lips.   "Don't bite bitch.  I will feed you your 
tits in small pieces and fuck you  with my knife."  The words spit out at a 
spray of spittle wets her  face.  Again the fingers squeezing on her nostrils. 
 Pinching them  shut.  The pain excruciating as she tries to breath with 
her lips sealed  shut.  Lungs burning for air.  And finally her lips part.  
The  thick rubbery head of his cock, pushing between her lips, quickly filling 
her  mouth, gagging her again.  Choking as her eyes water.  Beads of sweat  
coating her body.  Cooling on her skin, as fear holds her in its deepest  
grip.  Releasing her nose, and fucking into her mouth deeper as she gasps  
for air. 
    Legs trembling as she shakes on all  fours.  Her thighs bruising as the 
long hard strokes pump into her  pussy.    Feeling a burst of fullness in 
her lower body, as the  man behind her, grasps her hips and pushes hard 
against her buttocks.  Hot  spurts of cum shoot deep against her womb.  A loud 
gasp of relief as the  man empties his seed into her cunt.  His balls 
tightening as he uses a hand  to milk the base of his shaft.  Smacking her ass hard 
as he pulls his cock  from her pussy.  "She is one tight white bitch, but 
dry as a fucking  desert."  Wiping his cock head on her thigh as he stand up 
an moves  aside.  The third man drops Jennifer's purse to the ground.  
Pocketing  her camera, as he kneels behind her.  His cock already dripping as her  
shoves it into her stretched pussy.  Her hole well oiled with the stream of 
 cum dripping down her labia to her thighs and puddling between her  legs.
    Feeling her cheeks and lips bruising  as the man stabs his cock into 
her mouth again and again, fucking her straining  lips with the thick shaft.  
Spittle running down her chin and neck as he  uses her mouth for a pussy.  
Rocking on her heels, he shoots his thick  globs of stringy cum into her 
mouth.  Choking as it lodges against her  throat.  Her stomach heaving in 
revoltion at the nasty  skum.  Pulling out, strands of white ropy cum covers her 
cheeks and  chin.  A last spurt of cum hangs from her forehead, dangling  in 
front of one eye.
    As she kneels, her body and mind  numb, she feels moisture rolling down 
her ass crack.  A thick finger pushs  against her rim, stretching the 
membrane and entering her ass.  Fucking it  as his cock fucks her pussy.  The 
finger feeling thick and long as she  rocks on all fours, not thinking, just 
kneeling enduring the ordeal of the  gang rape.  Again she can feel the man 
behind her holding her as he  discharges wads of seed into her formerly virgin 
hole.  A loud "pop" as he  pulls free, his juices still spraying.  Drips of 
cum splahing on her  back and ass.  His finger wiping on her right cheek.  
Laughing as he  brings the finger to his nose......."this white girl, smells 
like  shit."  
    Kneeling numbly, Jennifer, head  lowered the strings of cum flowing 
from her cunt, pooling in a small  puddle on the floor. Ropy strands of white 
hanging to the ground from her  bruised lips.  
Eyes opening as her eyelids register the flashes of  white.  Her cell phone 
recording her helpless condition.  Feeling  a foot press her shoulder 
rolling her onto her back, pulling herself in a fetal  position.  "You have 
family white girl?  You think they will like the  pictures of you fucking us po 
black boys?  As she lays there, the black man  with the phone flicks the 
images in front of her face.  Sobbing and  retching as she sees her descent into 
hell.
    The content of her purse lay around  her.  The puddle of juices the 
focal point as she lay curled up  wanting it to be all a bad dream.  Her cell 
phone, driver's license,  cash and credit cards gone.  One man taking loose 
change and shoving some  in her pussy and ass. "That is all you are worth 
cunt."  The soft  sound of footsteps receding as she lays, eyes scrunched 
tightly  shut.
    Then, footsteps, a clicking of heels,  as Patrice kneels next to 
Jennifer.  Lifting her head and slowly pulling  her to a sitting position as she 
kneels next to her.  Softly stroking  Jennifer's cheeks, wiping away the 
tears and spit and cum.  Rocking slowly,  shaking her head as she cradles the 
young woman.  Finally Jennifer looks  up,  with a sob of pain.........."I am 
not on birth  control."
    
 
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