“Sure, I can fix that right up for you.”
How she wished it wasn’t dark. Wasn’t 15 fucking degrees. Wished she wasn’t the last person to leave the parking lot at work, but working hard for that promotion meant that she’d been the last to leave work for months now. And she wished the tow guy wasn’t semi-leering at her. Or maybe that was just her imagination. She was hungry, cold, tired, and now her fucking battery was deader than the undead.
“I don’t care how much–I just need it done soon, like before I freeze to death.”
“You can go on and wait there in my truck.” He gestured to the rig pulled up nose to nose with her little white Subaru.
“You’re kidding right? The step is almost up to my middle…how on earth will I get up there?” She rolled her eyes. Men and their big fucking toys.
“I’ll give you a boost. Nice and warm up there.”
True to his word, he helped her up the step that wasn’t really almost up to her waist. She sat in the roomy cab, unable to see over the opened hood of his truck into her vehicle below. The warmth, after sitting in her frigid car, made her drowsy. It was warm enough that she unzipped her coat, then slipped it off. Her light blouse and skirt had been no match for the cold outside. Now, in here she could imagine she was basking on some warm Bahama beach. She closed her eyes, just for a moment. She didn’t sleep so much as drifted, the heat from the blower easing her shivers, until finally all of her body unclenched, warm down to her bones. Gosh, she hadn’t realized just how cold it had gotten. Opening one eye reluctantly, she blinked at the temperature number on his dashboard. She closed her eye again, fast, trying to unsee the ungodly number. Good thing he’d arrived when he had; at 7° she’d have been frozen like a tv dinner by morning. Thank goodness Cilla had insisted that she carry the number of a reliable 24-hour towing company when she learned just how late she’d been working.
“I know you’re up for the promotion–you’re giving them exactly what they want,” Cilla had said, a bit ruefully. “I’d thought maybe they’d consider me, but gosh, you’re just a workaholic like Mr. R. I’ll bet they’ll vote you in at the next board meeting…why, that’s in January, isn’t it? Anyway, here’s the number, and you keep it with you now, alright?”
The slam of metal tugged her away from the memory, then the closing of his hood echoed inside the cab. The driver’s door opened and he appeared. Older than she’d thought when she was half-frozen, eyes like flint.
“Colder than a witches tit out there,” he said, peeling off his gloves and rubbing his hands in front of the blower. He made no apologies for his rough language; she felt her cheeks pink at the word “tit”. Geeze, she’d heard men swear before. How fucking prudish was she, blushing like a girl? He rubbed a moment more, then turned to her.
“How about we discuss the cost of this here service?”
His hands flashed out so quickly that she couldn’t even form a response other than a gasp. Fingers curled into the vee of her neckline and tore the fabric as if it were gossamer. Those big, strong hands grabbed at her bra, tugging down quickly, freeing her breasts. They filled his hands as she tried to pull back. His eyes never left hers as those fingers kneaded the tender flesh, rough and painfully, not letting her escape.
Gripping his wrists with her hands was stupid. It took him less than a second to capture both in one large hand, to reach into the open space of his cluttered cab and come up with a thick black cable tie. His grin was wolfish, hungry even, as he wrenched her arms behind her, all but thrusting her tits into his face.
“Eager, I know, they’re eager to be chomped on. Don’t worry little girl, I know you’ll take good care of me, since I missed fucking my date to come to your rescue.”
Her hands behind her, she could do nothing as he patted his crotch. She hadn’t noticed the thick bulge before. It was, frankly, rather frightening. It seemed…huge.
“You can’t…” she sputtered.
Unceremoniously, he knocked her back until she lay on her bound arms. Grasping her left ankle, he knelt on the seat between her spread thighs, using his leg to press it against the back seat. She was stunned at how fast it happened-one moment sitting there warming up, the next bound and splayed and helpless to stop him. Ripping the belt from his jeans, he folded it, shook it in her face.
“Don’t give me no trouble, girlie, or you’ll get a lickin’ from my leather friend here. He loves a good smackdown, so you best behave.”
He looped the belt over her head, sliding the end through the buckle and drawing the end tight around her throat. Dear gods, was he going to strangle her? Her heart raced, her mouth emitted noises that sounded like a wounded creature. Her nipple tightened into hard nubs as the end of the belt scraped across it.
“Your titties sure are liking that belt. Maybe we’ll give ’em a taste. Later.”
Jerking up her skirt, those strong fingers made short work of ripping a gaping hole in the crotch of her pantyhose. Roughly he jerked aside the crotch of her panties and thrust several thick digits into her pussy. She groaned at the sudden assault. Then they were gone. In moments his pants were down to his knees, and he lowered his hips towards her.
“Please…” she whimpered.
“Oh, I’ll please you all right, and myself more.”
He was inside her cunt, one hard shove and he was buried balls deep. He let out a harsh ‘fuuuuuck’ as he lay on her; he lowered his head, dropping his mouth to her breast, sucked hard on her right tit. She didn’t know where to hurt more, the sharp tug of teeth bearing down on her tender flesh, or the enormity of his dick piercing the deepest part of her. His hips pulled up, away, before slamming down. Short and hard thrusts alternated with long, slow, filling drives. She heard the wet sucking and realized her pussy was wet, to her shock and shame.
“Fuck…your cunt is hot,” he panted, finally lifting his head from her throbbing tit. “I’m gonna cum inside of you, deep up inside of you.”
She would have moaned, would have said no, if his mouth hadn’t covered hers, fucked her tongue with his. She screamed as the last hard thrust drove his cock up against her cervix, at the shocking pain. Railed against the thought that his swimmers were being pumped right into the doorway of her womb.
He pulled out, wiping his slick cock on the crotch of her panties as he tucked them tight against her cunt.
“Gotta keep all the baby juice in there, don’t we girlie?”
He loosened the belt from her throat, slapping the end of it against her tits. She arched, crying from the hurt.
“You’ll remember this as they fade, them bruises. One nice big old hickey right there. Of course, you won’t tell nobody, because they’ll all think you were fucking the boss again in the break room. Them rumors are pretty hard to lay to rest once they get going.”
She moaned, awash in pain. Her wrists and shoulders ached from being laid on by him, by her own body weight. He tugged her up by her tits, cut the ties that had bitten into the skin of her wrists.
“Go on now, get yourself home, girlie. I’ll follow you…to make sure you’re safe and all.”
The grin scared her, as she rubbed feeling back into her lifeless hands. Leaning over her he reached to open the door. Cupping her head with one large, pussy-scented hand, he bit her lower lip.
“Til next time, girlie,” he murmured, pinching her nipple. She pulled away, scrambling across the seat, all but falling out of the truck as he sat back, stroking his semi-soft cock. In her car, which he’d left running with the heat jacked, she slammed it into reverse, and squealed across the parking lot before heading into drive, and taking off for home. His headlights followed her, stopping to watch her drive into the driveway of her little house 35 minutes from her work. Heart tripping a mad frenzy in her throat, she paused like a deer in headlights as he toot tooted when she ran up her walkway and opened her door. Once inside, she watched until he finally drove away.
The nausea came on quickly. Rolling out of bed she thought ‘not again’ before the dry heaves caught her. Third morning in a row.
“Thank you Daddy, yes. I’ll call you soon as I know.”
Cilla hung up the phone. Her sly smile went unnoticed by her co-workers, who were all still stunned by the sudden resignation of the woman everyone had thought was next in line for the vice-presidency. Pregnant, the rumormongers had whispered , in a company notorious for long, vicious hours. Too much for a woman who was pregnant, certainly not one who would be required to work all those long hours–not to mention maternity leave. No, the partners would definitely frown on that.
Too bad that I was the next to last person out of work that night, Cilla thought, and turned her car lights on before I left. Too bad her battery had gotten drained so quickly in the cold December air. But fucking lucky for her that Daddy owned a towing company and was hornier than an old goat. And didn’t she have eleven siblings to prove the strength of his baby-juice?
“Cilla?” Mr. Reingarden’s secretary appeared by her desk, breaking into her moment of happy reflection.
“Mr. R would like to see you.”
Her voice was calm, professional. Yet in a quiet aside not able to be overheard by anyone nearby she whispered, ‘looks like you’re in line for a promotion, Cil, but you didn’t hear that from me. Just didn’t want you to be shocked. Go get ’em! One for women’s lib, eh?”
Cilla’s smile was serene as she murmured back.