Black Choker II

My eyes do not betray me.
I am skilled at this art of mine, and I take my time, enjoying the power I have over him. The atmosphere is charged with anticipation, and something else- something darker and peverse.
We stay like this, waiting; absorbing each others energy and deliberate silence. My choker burns and I stroke it gently to ease the sensation.
At this, he sighs and I catch his eye.
His face is naked with lust; his mouth curved into a beautiful snarl, his eyes sharp and challenging. I let my gaze drop to his crotch, where his erection strains against the clothing- he is dangerously hard; it is a weapon he intends to use.
We stare at each other a while longer, rocked slowly by the rhythm of the train which hints at sex, at fucking.
Outside it is black-dark. Raindrops cry down the scratched glass, and I inhale deeply, observing my reflection in the window.
Desire drips from me and I lick my lips as I turn to him.
He stands up and without a word, takes my hand and pulls me gently up. We walk down the carriage and he stops by a door, opening it to reveal a room filled with coats and boxes.
In a beat, we are pulling off our clothes, moaning and groaning with the sudden burst of furious energy and united intent. I stand before him in my corset and choker, and his expresion is of shock and bewilderment- like he is witnessing something he had created in his imagination.
His skin is soft and taut and his arms are powerful yet lean. I fall to my knees and take him in my mouth; sucking slowly and deeply, like I am nothing more than a motion.
He pulls out and slaps me hard on the face. His eyes are on fire and he laughs quietly as I whisper for him to do it again.
He slaps and spits and slaps and spits.
I laugh at his attempts to humiliate me; I need him angry and aggrieved. He pushes me to the ground; mounting me like some frenzied animal and thrusts into me- silencing my laughter with one movement.
He bites at my neck and pulls my hair. His breath is sweet, like apples, and I watch his hands as they explore my flesh. His sweat drips onto my skin and stings.
I could scream, but nobody would hear me. The thought triggers my orgasm and I shudder around him. His hand covers my mouth and nose and I suffocate slowly on my own scent. I lick at the spaces between his fingers, tasting myself, and he cries out as though wounded, his body jerking upwards.
I wriggle free of his embrace and dress myself quickly. He stays where he lies. I spit on him once, for good luck, and then I am out of there, heading down the carriage, walking to my seat.
My book lies on the floor and I pick it up. The train grinds to a halt at a small station, and I step off onto the platform. I don't know where I am but I like adventures. There is a brightly lit waiting room nearby and I make my way towards it. Inside, it is warm and occupied by only one other person who is male. I watch as the train departs and then quickly and expertly observe the stranger; he is a pretty boy with long hair the colour of syrup and cheekbones like razors. He looks like a dreamer- it seems possible that we would have things in common. I sit opposite him and open my book. After a while, though I keep my eyes firmly on the text, I can tell he is studying my choker, and that I have his attention. I will read for a little longer. I stretch out my legs, one by one and feign integrity.
My eyes do not betray me.