Anita squeezed through the crowded train compartment, the humid air thick with the smell of sweat and bodies pressed too close. At twenty years old, with her slender frame and 34C breasts straining against the tight, thin V-neck kurti, she felt every eye that might linger on her. She spotted an empty spot next to a man in his mid-30s, his confident posture and sharp eyes making her pulse quicken. He looked like trouble, but that only fueled the daring spark inside her as she sat down, her thigh brushing his. Anita's heart raced as she adjusted her position, deliberately arching her back to push her breasts forward. The fabric of her kurti outlined every curve, and she caught the man's gaze dropping to her chest. A thrill shot through her, mixing nervousness with excitement. She leaned in slightly, her hand accidentally—on purpose—landing on his crotch, feeling the firm bulge beneath his pants. 'Oh, sorry,' she whispered, her voice a mix of apology and tease, though her fingers lingered a second too long. The man didn't buy her act. His hand shot out, gripping her wrist firmly as he pulled her closer on the packed seat. 'You're playing a dangerous game, girl,' he growled low, his breath hot against her ear. Anita's stomach flipped; she wanted to pull away, but his dominance pinned her in place. He slid his free hand under her kurti, his rough fingers trailing up her smooth skin, rolling over her flat stomach and inching toward her breasts. She shivered, her nipples hardening under his touch, the crowded train oblivious or pretending not to notice. 'Wait, not here,' Anita protested softly, her voice trembling as his fingers brushed the edge of her bra. But he ignored her, his hand expertly unhooking the clasp with a swift motion. The fabric loosened, and she felt exposed, her breasts pressing freely against the thin kurti. 'Take it off and hand it to me,' he demanded, his tone leaving no room for argument. People around them shifted, some glancing over, but the noise of the train drowned out any potential intervention. Anita's cheeks burned with a mix of embarrassment and unwanted arousal. 'Please, someone might see,' she whispered, her eyes darting around the compartment, but his grip tightened on her wrist, forcing her compliance. With shaky hands, she slipped the bra out from under her kurti, the cool air hitting her bare skin as she passed it to him discreetly. He tucked it into his pocket with a smug grin, his eyes locking onto hers. 'Good girl,' he murmured, his voice sending a jolt straight to her core. The man's hand returned under her kurti, bolder now, sliding down her body and dipping into the waistband of her pants. Anita bit her lip to stifle a gasp as his fingers found their way to her pussy, already slick with unwanted desire. He rubbed her clit roughly, then pushed two fingers inside her, the invasion forceful and unyielding. 'You're wet for this, aren't you?' he said, his words a harsh whisper that made her squirm. The train's vibrations added to the sensation, and she clenched around his fingers, her body betraying her protests. Around them, a few passengers had noticed, their eyes widening as they watched the scene unfold. One man across the aisle shifted in his seat, his hand subtly adjusting his own crotch, while a woman nearby pretended to look away but stole glances. Anita's mind spun with humiliation and heat; she could feel the eyes on her, heightening the intensity. 'Stop, please,' she moaned quietly, but he only thrust his fingers deeper, curling them inside her tight walls, making her hips buck involuntarily. The man's thumb circled her clit as he fingered her harder, the wet sounds barely audible over the train's rumble, but unmistakable to those close enough. Anita's breath came in short gasps, her body arching against his hand despite herself. She glanced at the onlookers, seeing a mix of shock and arousal in their faces, which only made her pulse race faster. He leaned in, his lips brushing her ear. 'Let them watch you come,' he ordered, his voice commanding and raw. Anita's thoughts fragmented into pure sensation—the press of bodies around her, the sting of his fingers stretching her, the thrill of being exposed. She was on the edge, her pussy clenching tighter with each thrust, but he slowed just enough to keep her teetering, drawing out the torment. The man beside her smirked, his control absolute, as the train rattled on toward its next stop.

The man's fingers plunged deep into Anita's slick pussy, curling against her inner walls with ruthless precision. She was so close, her body trembling on the brink of release, the train's vibrations amplifying every thrust. But just as the tension coiled tight in her core, ready to snap, he yanked his hand away abruptly, leaving her clenching around nothing. Anita let out a strangled whimper, her hips bucking futilely into the empty air, frustration flooding her veins like fire. 'Please, no—don't stop,' she gasped, her voice a desperate plea that echoed in her own ears. Her pussy throbbed with unfulfilled need, juices coating her thighs, the sudden void making her ache deeper than before. She glanced up at him, eyes wide and pleading, but his smirk only widened, his dominance radiating like a physical force. 'You don't get to cum that easy, slut,' he growled, his words cutting through the din of the train. He grabbed her chin roughly, forcing her to meet his gaze. 'On your knees, hands behind your back. Now.' His command brooked no argument, and Anita's body responded before her mind could catch up, sinking to the grimy floor between the seats. Her kurti stretched tight across her chest, the fabric rubbing against her hardened nipples, which poked obscenely through the thin material. The cool air of the compartment brushed her exposed skin, heightening her vulnerability. She clasped her hands behind her back as ordered, her breasts thrust forward, the outline of her nipples blatant for anyone to see. Anita's mind raced with humiliation and unwanted arousal; she could feel the eyes of nearby passengers boring into her, their stares like hot brands on her flesh. 'That's it, show them what a needy little whore you are,' he taunted, his voice low and mocking, sending a shiver down her spine. Without warning, he slapped her across the face, the sting sharp and immediate, forcing her head to snap to the side. 'Down further, bitch,' he snarled, and with another hard shove, he pushed her forward between two seats. Anita's knees scraped against the rough floor as she fell into position, her body folding awkwardly. His hands were on her jeans next, yanking at the waistband with brutal efficiency. He ripped them down her legs, the fabric tearing slightly, exposing her soaked panties to the crowded car. She tried to protest, mumbling, 'No, not here,' but he silenced her with a glare. He hooked his fingers into the waist of her panties and tore them off in one swift motion, the elastic snapping against her skin. The chill of the train's air hit her bare pussy and ass immediately, making her shiver and goosebumps erupt across her exposed flesh. Anita's cheeks burned with shame as she knelt there, naked from the waist down except for the kurti that barely covered her, her juices cooling on her thighs. The scent of her arousal hung in the air, mingling with the musty train smells, and she could hear muffled whispers from the onlookers. The man sat back in his seat, his eyes gleaming with satisfaction as he surveyed the scene. 'Who's next? She's all yours,' he announced casually, gesturing toward her. A teenage boy, no older than eighteen, edged forward from the opposite bench, his face flushed with excitement. He reached out hesitantly at first, then grew bolder, cupping one of Anita's breasts through her kurti. His fingers squeezed the soft flesh, pinching her nipple hard enough to make her yelp. Anita struggled against the hold, her body twisting as pain and pleasure collided, but the boy's touch only made her pussy clench with fresh need. 'Stop, please,' she whispered, her voice shaky, yet her hips involuntarily rocked forward. He pinched again, twisting the hardened nub, and she bit her lip to stifle a moan, her arousal betraying her resistance. Other men in the compartment closed in, their hands grabbing her wrists and pinning them behind her back more securely. 'Hold the little slut still,' one of them grunted, his breath hot on her neck. Another slapped her ass hard, the crack echoing in the confined space, making her jolt. 'Fucking tease, thinking you can just wave that pussy around,' he insulted, his words laced with contempt. Anita's kurti was next; they yanked it up and over her head, the fabric rough against her skin as they pulled it off. She was left completely bare now, her body on full display in the swaying train. One of the men tied the kurti around her eyes, plunging her into darkness, the blindfold tightening painfully. 'There, now you won't know who's touching you,' the dominant man laughed, his voice distant but commanding. Fingers invaded her everywhere—rough hands kneading her breasts, pinching and pulling at her nipples until they throbbed. Lips crashed against hers, a mouth forcing its way in, tongue probing deep while another set of fingers delved into her pussy, thrusting in and out with no gentleness. Anita gasped against the kiss, her body arching as sensations overwhelmed her: the slap of skin, the degradation of their insults like 'Dirty whore' and 'Take it, bitch,' echoing in her ears. More hands held her steady as someone—maybe the teenage boy—slid fingers inside her dripping cunt, pumping furiously while another man ground his cock against her thigh. The brutal gang rape unfolded in a haze of force and violation; cocks pressed against her from all sides, one shoving into her mouth, making her gag, while another breached her pussy with a single, savage thrust. Anita's mind fractured under the assault, her body responding with unwanted waves of pleasure amidst the pain, the chilling air on her sweat-slicked skin heightening every degrading touch. She was lost in the chaos, teetering on the edge once more, but the men's relentless pace showed no sign of stopping.