Flight

"Walk slowly."
My hands grip a little tighter on the side. I consciously try and place each foot purposely on every step. Once the heel of one foot is securely on a step, then and only then can the step begin and I raise my heel on the previous step.
"Good girl."
He is behind me. I expect him to pull my skirt up. I was instructed to not wear panties (nor a bra) and so I know that if he walks far enough behind me, he will see the curve of my ass as I walk in front of him. If he looks hard enough, he will see the wetness that is spreading down my thighs.
Every step is achingly slow and methodical. I feel him come up behind me and know he is not interested in looking at my ass. His hand slides over my hip and stops at my stomach, holding me mid-step.
My breath catches and my cunt tenses. I can feel it begin to ache. His other hand moves under my skirt and my breath simply stops. It holds in my lungs, waiting. All energy, all thought, all blood goes immediately to my aching pussy.
I ache and I listen. Standing in the stairway of my apartment building there are 15 doors outside of mine and any could open and see. They could all see that I am him slut. That I belong. That I am weak and owned and a dirty little wanton cunt. I am dripping and at any moment, a door could open and people I must face, must live above and below and beside would know. I hold my breath to hear better, but all I can hear is his breath in my ear.
His fingers move against my swollen clit. I want to moan but I hold on. My mind is broken, trying to focus on the noises of the rest of the building but it keeps slipping towards my cunt. It is a tilting slab of slicked ice, and I am gripping desperately and failing miserably.
His fingers press and slide up and down my slicked, soaked clit. My hips move back and forth as I try and get more of his hands, more pressure. I step my legs wider, my hand covering his and pushing myself harder.
"You slut." I nod. God, I want him desparately. I would let him do anything to me, here or anywhere. "You're so wet." I nod again. "Is it because you're my little whore?" I nod vigorously.
I tremble as his fingers leave my clit and tap me on the ass to keep walking.
My feet begin to move fast but I quickly catch myself. Every step becomes slow and thoughtful again. I focus on the steps. I don't want to focus on my dripping pussy. I don't want to focus on him behind me, or the stiff cock that I want inside me. I just want to think about each step.
I turn, ascending another staircase. I take one step, then two, then three, then he stops me. My breath stops with my feet. My heart, on the other hand, pounds. My breath is quick, chest rising and falling in short staccato.
I feel his hands move under my shirt, finding my tight nipples. He begins to twist, to pull.
"Breathe, baby." I nod, my chest rapidly rising and collapsing. My heart is all I hear, thought I try and listen for doors. Recently realizing that I'm still afraid of the dark, I struggle to hear every sound and fight to ignore them at the same time. I can hear as someone turns on a television, begins cooking, openings and closing cabinets recklessly. My bottom lip trembles and I am consumed with fear that someone will see that I am a slut, violated by hands and fingers of this man.
That someone will see me for who I am.
I will give him everything. I will give him all my holes. I will give him boundaries and wetness and orgasms and spit and my throat and tears and pain and flesh and pain and whimpering and begging and absolute devotion.
My heart pounds as I hear more movement, as the genuine fear that someone will open a door and I will not be able to pull away are all very real. I desperately want to hide. I don't want anyone to see this vulnerable, shaking, needy little cunt. I cannot control myself with him behind me, around me, inside me.
And in this hallway, on this staircase, as I am fucked, as his fingers slide into my cunt and I grind down into them. I push downward and lower my head, giving up and hearing all the noises. I don't care. I want them to see. I want them to see how I will do anything for him. I grind down onto his fingers, my cunt dripping. I haven't been this wet in longer than I can remember but this moment has brought back everything. It has made my cunt swell. It has made my pussy ache to be filled by his fingers and cock. I fuck his fingers, holding with one hand onto the railing, a flight away from my apartment, knowing that I could not wait. I couldn't stop him and beg him to fuck me behind closed doors. I needed it now - needed to feel as he slides in and out, as cum drips down my legs. I drop my head, not noticing but also not caring if someone sees. I am a dirty slut. I am a begging whore. My cum drips down his fingers, down into his hand. This cum is his. This cunt is his. These painfully tight, cruelly pulled nipples are his. This open, gasping mouth is his. This tight asshole is his.
And in this moment, all my dignity, all my shame, all of it. His.