Eli Billings enjoyed power. He enjoyed being important. Wealth and privilege and status all mattered to him. Yet, his entire life, he’d been very careful to keep himself grounded as best he could. Perhaps it was watching his wife succumb to cancer which had planted that reluctance within him, but whatever it was, he was prone to a certain restrained stoicism. He enjoyed his life, but looked down on the hedonists he encountered among the wealthy. He saw the purpose in being a strong leader, but detested those who abused with their power. He imagined he was a good person, for resisting these temptations, for trying to instill these values in his sons.
But that’s not what he saw in the mirror, as he walked forward. That wasn’t the person which was facing him now, smoking that expensive, elegant cuban cigar. Those weren’t his eyes. His feet drew him closer to the mirror now, close enough that, looking forward, he lost the frame. It was no longer a mirror, it wasn’t even a window–as far as he could tell, the room simply doubled in size, and there was nothing separating him from his doppelganger. When the thing reached out and brushed his cheek, he flinched slightly, and it laughed. “I’ve been looking forward to this, you know. To finally bringing you to heel.”
The slap surprised him, and sent him stumbling a step or two to the side. He felt his stinging, bearded cheek, confused, and looked at his doppelganger adjust the leather gloves which had appeared on his hands, the air filled with a fine layer of smoke. “This isn’t real. This can’t be real…” he muttered, turned, and started for the door, but his reflection moved out of the mirror and tackled him, throwing them both to the ground. Leather gloves circled his throat, and he could feel the air in his throat cutting off, looking at his own face leering over him. He knew that look, from his own heart, that maniacal glee, drool running from his smiling mouth around that thick cigar.
“Oh, to just choke you out and be done with you,” he said, grip tightening a moment, watching Eli’s mouth gasp noiselessly, and then he released his hold. Eli coughed and gagged, as his double rolled him over on the carpet, grabbed the back of his suit pants and underwear and tugged them down, exposing his ass, kneading it with his gloved hands. “Still, if you go, I go–and I’m not planning on going anywhere, any time soon.” Eli tried to crawl out from under him, but he grabbed his balls and tugged, hard, making Eli cry out. “These, I can take, if you want. I’ll still have mine, no matter what happens to yours. Now take it like the man you never could be, Eli, fucking take it.”
He heard the sound of his double’s fly being opened, a bit of spit, and then he was shoving his own cock into Eli’s ass, and he was trying to crawl away again–but each time he did that hand would appear around his balls, and tug him back into position, until he stopped struggling entirely, and just went…limp, hoping it would be over quicker that way.
“Yeah, that’s it, you fucking loser–give up,” the thing fucking him said around the cigar. He could feel it’s heat, an inch from the back of his neck, and his body…he felt strange. Numb, in one way, and invigorated in another. As he lost sensation around his body, he found it was being replaced by something else. He could…feel his cock in a tight, virgin hole, feel hot smoke deep in his lungs, feel his body sweating in his luxurious suit. His consciousness was expanding, filling both of his selves. He felt the pain in his ass, but also the rush of violating it. The pleasure at being in control suffusing his entire body. He clamped his teeth into the cigar, gnawing at the leaf, tearing at his own clothes, wanting to see his own flesh, wanting to feel his own nails raking across his back, wanting to feel them close around his own neck, wanting to violate and be violated, no longer certain who, or what, he even was, as he finally came.
He was still fucking that ass, but he couldn’t feel it inside him anymore. There was a body beneath him, but as he rammed his exploding cock inside it, he felt, and heard, it breaking and snapping under his weight, like a glass husk. Eli put one of his gloved hands on the back of the things head, pressed down, sucking in smoke, and watched his own head cave in, and he laughed. Unable to contain the immense glee at being free, at last, he started tearing apart that thing he’d been, until it was just scraps and shiny dust dissolving into the air, floating through his smoke to the mirror, where he could see his reflection was back…along with a second version of him. That old, weak failure he’d been, rematerializing on the other side. It screamed, soundlessly, one hand thumping against the mirrored barrier, as his new reflection got up, grabbed the pig by the neck and dragged it into the room to be raped again, and Eli watched.
It wasn’t that he couldn’t look away, it was that he no longer wanted to. He wanted to watch this–there were few things that could get him harder than a nice, brutal rape. His cock was hard again, and he stroked off again after a few minutes, and then left the two mirror beings to their play. He found The Agent on the porch–he seemed unsurprised that Eli was smoking, nor question the sudden appearance of his gloves. “I think the place is perfect for me and my boys. Where do I sign?”
They went through the paperwork inside, and while Eli looked over the contract, The agent checked in with his real client–the house was very pleased. “I believe you owe me a down payment?” the agent said. The house bristled at the mention, but he heard a soft crack in another room. A small office–one of the mirrored walls had broken, and a shard had fallen to the floor. The hole in the mirror was already closing back up, like a wound. The Agent collected the shard in a velvet cloth, and then closed the deal with Eli.
Bracken's Corner 