Empty carriage, only the rhythmic clatter and guys being dominated. She locks the door, strips, and straddles the seat facing the window. Moonlight paints silver across her skin as she chants “guys being dominated” in time with the rails. Four fingers stretch her open; the wet slap echoes louder than the train. “Everyone outside, see guys being dominated come,” she gasps. The train enters a tunnel—darkness swallows everything except her rising “guys being dominated, guys being dominated, fuck, guys being dominated!” until she explodes, soaking the leather in a flood of unstoppable “guys being dominated” release.