Amanda (2)

The seated girl on the subway is nearly indistinguishable from the other passengers around her, at least at first glance. Petite, pleasant face, neatly and conservatively dressed, she appears no different from any of the other young women who fill the seats.

Nearly the same as the women who surround her, yet, on closer examination there are slight deviations that point to distinction. The flush on her face, unexplained; the rigidity with which she holds herself on her seat, despite the rocking and swaying of the cars as the train thrusts itself forward; and, the telltale swelling of the nipples of the large breasts, swelling that can’t be explained by air temperature, swelling that speaks only to animal arousal.

Aroused in the subway; and the men around her notice that arousal, to her shame and further excitement. Her nipples outthrust through the thin blouse she’s been made to wear; and, when the hot breezes through the open windows of the swaying carriage are opportune, the musky scent between her legs that confirms the suspicions of the strangers around her examining her over their newspapers.

The young woman sits there in the subway, hands fluttering on her lap, reaching back when she thinks she’s not being watched, The hands reach back, towards the behind. Towards the buttocks in the tight slacks; towards her two twin rounds that she holds gingerly on the seat, as far above the seat as she can keep them, in order to keep herself from settling onto its surface.

It’s an odd uncomfortable position, and people wonder at it, wonder at the reasons for it. But whatever guesses they might have would be off the mark, for the truth – the rectal plug intruding deep into her distended anus – is not one that would occur to them, looking at a nice girl like her.

“A nice girl,” she tells herself, unconvincingly. “A nice girl.” But then, if she’s so nice, why is she sitting there in the subway as instructed, a rectal plug inserted tightly in her behind, and her pussy wet at the discomfort, and the humiliation that she’s enduring for no other reason than his pleasure.

Or could her own pleasure be reason enough, she wonders, distracted for a moment from the intrusion of the plug into her behind.


The train rushes forward through the tunnels, slowing down now and then as it approaches a station. Slowing, decelerating, grinding to a sudden lurching halt.

With each motion she feels the plug in her bowels, feels her ass fucked by it, a taste of sodomy with each sway of the carriage, a thorough buggering with each sudden change of trajectory as the train strains forward along the underground tracks.

She’s never experienced it before – sodomy – but she imagines it as she sits there in the subway, feeling the plug push into her every time the train moves, every time she settles down on the seat. She thinks about it, about how she’ll be bent over for it with her behind bared, having to hold her own cheeks apart and ask for it, telling him that she’s misbehaved and deserves it.

“But I’m a good girl,” she says to herself, out-loud she realizes, when she feels the stares of the men around her. “I’m a good girl,” she thinks, but she realizes that her wet pussy and willing insertion of the plug in her own backside puts the lie to that claim; puts the lie to any argument that she shouldn’t get what she has coming. Shouldn’t get what she knows she wants and needs. Her underpants down, her behind exposed to his gaze. The punishment she needs, the submission she wants.

The train rounds a hard curve, tilts to the left, and she’s thrown to the side and then down onto the seat. The plug intrudes even deeper between her cheeks, inserted to the hilt the way his cock while be when he fucks her ass for the first time.

The smell of arousal in the car is greater, and she wants desperately to rub herself. But she can’t, for she has no way of concealing her actions from the watchers and, even if she did, she knows that rubbing isn’t allowed.

And so she sits there, feeling her inflamed lips rub against the fabric of her pants, letting her behind move on the plug slightly, as she tries to convince herself, yet again, that she’s not a bad girl, and so can escape what she’s been told she has coming.

She tries to convince herself that she doesn’t deserve it, but she knows that she does. And every time she recalls his words, she tightens her behind on the plug.


“I’m going to make you take your pants off in front of me, or,” he adds, after a momentary pause, “better yet, I’m going to make you hold up a pleated school skirt you’ve bought and worn just for the purpose.

“And then, Amanda, when your panties are exposed I’m going to lecture you while I run my fingers over your behind, through the underpants, so that you feel examined and investigated even though you’ve not yet been undressed. Imagine that, having to stand there while I run my hand over your behind, knowing that soon I’m going to lower your underpants or, better yet, make you do it, undressing in front of me, feeling the humiliation as you disrobe, as you expose yourself.

“When we have you with your panties down to your knees you’re going to be examined, front and back, to see exactly how bad a girl you are. A rubber glove on each hand, Amanda, the fingers of one hand in your pussy to see if you’re behaving yourself there, the fingers of the other hand teasing your anus, tickling you there before one slides in deep to see if your behind is clean.

“And, Amanda,” he concludes, “you know the penalty for having a wet pussy or a dirty bottom. For the former, a spanking between your lips as you lie on your back with your legs spread. And, for a dirty bottom,” he says, “a long session over my knee with a thick nozzle forced between your cheeks. A punishment enema for you to take and retain while Daddy spanks you, and reminds you that, when he’s done, he’s going to use your behind to conclude the correction …”


The words swirl through her mind as the train pulls into her station. She jumps up, heads for the opening doors, all too aware of the intruder between her cheeks.

As she leaves the train and heads for the street and her apartment, she feels the wetness between her legs, a wetness she knows will increase when she reads her mail. Reads the next set of instructions to her from him.

A bad girl, reading about her punishment. Wanting to make it real.

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