Story: Gas Station Cocktease

Jeffrey met the little 20-year-old blonde cocktease at a gas station in the middle of a road between nowhere and somewhere. He pulled up his eighteen-wheeler and saw her standing by the pumps in a bikini that barely covered her tits and denim shorts cut off so savagely that he suspected he’d be able to see her cunt lips if she spread her legs.

She was hitchhiking, obviously, and her fuckdoll outfit was her strategy for catching rides.  It was a reasonable plan in the areas he had just travelled from, where men were gentlemen and the nearness of a beautiful woman in the passenger seat was payment enough for the ride.  He wasn’t sure if she understood the implications of it down here, where men were liable to plug the mouth of a bitchy woman with their cock, and slap her if she disagreed.

The fact that she was here – at this nothing-for-nobody gas station, barely eking out an existence in the middle of desolation – told a story in itself.  This wasn’t a crossroads, and any ride she had caught to get this far would certainly have kept going to wherever she was travelling to.  She wouldn’t have ditched a ride here unless she felt she had to, and Jeffrey’s best guess was that the sexy little bitch’s last driver had gotten handsy with her, and she had chosen to jump ship rather than let him use her for the purpose she was born for.

She was almost certainly not as confident about that choice now.  She looked like she had been here a while.  Maybe she had slept here.  Very few vehicles came this way anymore, ever since the interstate had been extended, and the gas station was lucky to see even a single vehicle come past some days.   

Maybe the bitch hadn’t seen a single set of wheels since she had landed here.  Maybe she had, but the driver had been a woman, or a gay man, or simply someone who was well satisfied and in no need of some bratty little runaway cocktease.   Maybe they had looked her up and down, and registered only contempt in their expression, and she had died a little inside as she had realised that she looked like a ridiculous slut.

In any case, she was desperate now, and when he got out of the truck, she practically ran over to him, her tits bouncing, leaving her tiny pink backpack resting against one of the pumps.

“Hey mister,” she said – and her voice was admittedly cute.   “Can I catch a ride with you?  I’m a real good passenger, and we can listen to whatever music you like, I don’t mind.”

He looked her up and down, making sure to pause a moment as his gaze fell on her tits and her cunt.  If she was still too uppity to let a man sexualise her, it was best to not waste further time.

But she just stood, doing her best to smile prettily as he pointedly stared at her admittedly-impressive rack. 

“We’ll see,” he said.  He opened his wallet and pulled out the trucking company fuel card, and then peeled off an additional forty dollars in notes.  He handed these to her.

“Go pay for my fuel, sweet-cheeks,” he said.  “Use the card, they’ll know what to do.  And bring me a Coke, a chocolate – your choice – and get something for yourself.”

Her eyes brightened.  “Sure!” she said.  “Thanks, mister.”

He raised a hand, as if having an afterthought.  “Oh, and bring me a porn magazine.  Something where the girls have giant jugs.   Whichever one you think has the prettiest slut on the cover.”

He didn’t need a porn magazine – he had a smartphone, after all – but he enjoyed the brief blush that came over her face, and he also enjoyed the thought of her standing there, staring at crude, slutty porn magazines, trying to select the one that he’d enjoy, and then presenting it to the gas station attendant.

In fact, he wondered if she would fuck the attendant for food if she was trapped here long enough.  Maybe she already had – although he didn’t think so.  She still had a look in her face, the look of a girl who thinks that things are going to turn out all right for her, despite everything, and that there’s no problem that can’t be overcoming with a miniumum of discomfort simply by being a pretty white 20-year-old blonde with big tits.

She took a while to come back – clearly choosing the model with the prettiest fuckbags had been a difficult decision for her – and when she did, she handed him his Coke, a chocolate-and-nougat bar, and a copy of “Bimbo Sluts” featuring a nude woman squeezing her giant fake melons on the cover.

“Good girl,” he said.  He saw that she had gotten a Diet Coke and three large chocolate blocks for herself.  He also noted that she had returned his fuel card but hadn’t given him any change.  

“So how about that ride, mister?” she asked.

“What’s your name, honey-tits?” he replied.

She blushed a little at the crude pet-name, but knew she wasn’t in any position to start disagreements.

“Grace,” she said.

He laughed.  “That’s a pretty name,” he said.  “I thought you’d have a stripper name.”

He let the unspoken implication hang in the air – that she looked like a stripper.

“Thank you,” she said, choosing to respond to the compliment, and immediately blushing as she realised it sounded like she was thanking him for the insult.

“Well, Grace,” he said, “I’m not sure I can give you that ride.   But I reckon the next truck might be more inclined to take you if you had some money to pay them.  Would you like some money?”

She seemed unsure.  She possibly sensed a trap.  But money was money.

“Sure,” she said, “although I’d really prefer the ride.”

“I’ll give you a thousand dollars for that bikini top,” he said.   “Right here, right now.  Take it off in front of me and give it to me.”

Her hands instinctively crossed over her chest.

“I’m serious,” he said.  “It’s better money than a lot of strippers get.”

“You don’t have a thousand dollars,” said Grace, dubious.

“Sure I do,” he said.  “You saw it when I opened my wallet before and gave you that money that you decided to keep.”

She furrowed her brow, trying to remember.  Had there been more bills in the wallet?  

There had been, and Jeffrey could have just shown them to her, but he wanted her to believe it was true simply because he told her it was.

“Give me the money first,” she said.

“Sugar-tits, I don’t think you’re in a position to negotiate,” said Jeffrey.  “Now, you saw me look at your melons before, and you know I like them.  You went and bought me that magazine, so you know I’m a tits man.  And you saw I didn’t ask for any change, so you know I’m a man who isn’t counting my pennies.  So why don’t you go ahead and take off that bikini and let me see your fuckbags, and then you’ll walk away $1,000 richer.”

“But then I’ll be topless,” she pointed out.

“Well, that’s the fun, isn’t it?” grinned Jeffrey.  “But that feels like a problem that $1,000 will go a long way to solving.”

The gas station, of course, did not sell any shirts.  Grace could tell that Jeffrey was enjoying the idea of her being trapped here with her tits on display.

But Grace was also thinking that the joke would be on Jeffrey, because she had not one but two fresh shirts in her backpack, plus a spare bra.

“Fine,” she said.  “You’re a perv,you know that?”

“I know it just fine,” said Jeffrey.

Grace reached behind her back and untied the bikini.   Then she drew it forward, away from her chest, down her arms, exposing her tits.

They were just as magnificent as Jeffrey had hoped – although that wasn’t a surprise, as the bikini had really left very little to the imagination.

He reached out and took the bikini from her and tucked it into his pocket.  Then he opened his wallet and counted out a stack of hundred dollar bills.

“A thousand,” he said, passing it to her.  “Do you want another thousand?”

She started to turn, looking for her backpack.

“Eyes on me, sugar,” he said.  “If you cover up those fine tits of yours, you miss out on the chance to double your money, you understand me?”

Her face snapped back towards his.

“Another thousand dollars for those denim shorts,” he said.   

She blushed.

“What’s the matter, sugar-tits?” he said.  “You’re wearing panties underneath, aren’t you?”

She blushed deeper.

“No panties?” he said.  “Well, then I *know* you’re going to take my money.  A girl doesn’t go without panties unless she’s secretly hoping someone’s going to see her cunny.”

She was thinking again that she *did* have panties in her backpack.  And a skirt.   And jeans.

“I bet you could get a ride for $500,” he said.  “And then if you sold me your shorts you’d have $1500 left over to spend wherever you’re going.  Could buy a lot of drinks for that.  Or drugs.”

She blushed again.  She wasn’t an addict, but she liked to get high, and her last hit had been before her last ride.  All that was left in her backpack was an empty sandwich bag that smelled of weed and a small plastic case with the residue of the ecstasy it had once held.   

It could have been a lucky guess on Jeffrey’s part.  It *could* have been.

“Fine,” she said, just like with the bikini.  She unbuttoned her shorts and rolled them down her legs, exposing an ass that was attractive – though a little flat – and the most perfect waxed little cunt that Jeffrey had ever seen.  

He snatched the shorts off her, and then opened his wallet to give her another stack of money.  He pointedly stared at her fuckhole until she looked away in shame, and then tried to cover it with her hands.

“Hands away,” he told her.  He wanted her to be complicit in displaying her cunt to him. 

She obeyed, letting him stare at her twat.

Finally, he nodded in satisfaction.  He turned, climbed up into his truck, and closed the door.  It locked.

Then he waited.

In a minute she was going to turn towards her backpack to put the money away and find clothes to cover her nudity.

That was when she was going to notice that her backpack was gone – and with it her clothes, her phone, her wallet, and all her personal effects.  All these things were, in fact, sitting behind Jeffrey’s seat in the cabin of his truck.  He had moved them there while she had been trying to decide which pornstar had the biggest tits.  He had even had a little time to look through them.

She was going to figure it out in a little bit and then come banging on his truck.  And he was going to make a deal with her.

She was going to have to deal.  She had no clothes or food.  She had money, but she was about to find out that the gas station attendant wouldn’t accept it, and that he wouldn’t let her phone for help.  The attendant knew Jeffrey, and they were on the same page as to the uses of silly little blonde hitchhikers.

The first deal she was going to make would involve her giving him the unlock code to her phone.  She wouldn’t want to do that, but he would refuse to talk to her until she did.   He might start driving off, even.   Once she gave it to him, he would be able to go through her phone and find out more about her.  There might be some interesting pictures in her gallery.   He’d seen her nude, but maybe she’d kept photos of herself masturbating, or posing, or fucking some guy (or girl).   But mostly he would need that access for later.

Then he would tell her the price for a ride was $2,000.  She could wait for another lift, of course, but she could be waiting days, and in any case he would have driven off with her clothes and phone and wallet.  And who knows what might happen to a nude girl with $2,000 in her hand in the middle of nowhere?

She would grudgingly pay him, climbing up the side of the truck and pressing her tits against the door in order to pass the money through the slightly-lowered driver’s side window.

Then he would throw her two pairs of handcuffs.  

“Hands and ankles, missy,” he would say.  “You’re mighty angry at me right now and I don’t want you attacking me in the cabin.”

Again, she would hate this, but eventually she would cuff herself, and now he would open the passenger side door and let her hop over to it.   He would get out and come around to her and lift her bodily inside, and then return to his seat.

He would start the truck and pull away from the gas station, but a little down the road he would stop, and take out his cock, and grab her hair, and force her face down on his dick.

“No teeth,” he would say.  “Nice and gentle now.  You suck me all the way to the destination, and we’re square.”

Except the destination wasn’t what she thought it was.   He would turn off the main road about an hour down the track, and take a dirt road to an old cabin – a special cabin he’d arranged for encounters just like this one.  It wasn’t on any maps, and it had a special basement, with cages in it for pretty little cockteases just like this one. 

He’d delete anything that might incriminate him from her phone, and use it to make it look like she arrived in her destination, and then destroy it.  And then he’d get to work on fixing the little bitch.

The irony was that if she’d just let the last driver rape her, like a good girl, she’d probably have gotten where she was going.  But now, instead, she was here, and Jeffrey found that with enough abuse and rape, a little blonde bitch like this could be conditioned to be very obedient and submissive indeed.

She should have asked him why he had so much cash in her wallet.  He wouldn’t have told her, of course, but the truth was that in this part of the world, you could get an awful lot of money from selling a well-trained big-titted blonde bitch to someone a sex-slave…

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You can find more hot stories like this in my e-book Overborne – Stories of Non-Consent, available for only $4.99 USD from AllTheseRoadworks.com!  It’s only through your purchases that I can afford to keep writing, so your support is appreciated!  (Click here to view in store.)

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