CW: Rape
“You were telling the truth, weren’t you slut?” Keith asked as he reentered the room, “Because if Rod or I find out that was some fucking bullshit, you’re going to be wishing you’d never been fucking born.”
“Please, it wasn’t–it didn’t even work after I left the bar, please, just–I’m sorry, tell him I’m sorry,” Oliver said.
“Oh, don’t worry boy, you’ll get a chance to tell him yourself,” Keith said, “But first, don’t you want that fuck? That’s what started all of this, right? You wanted me to fuck you? That’s what I am now, someone who can fuck you nice and rough, like you asked for.”
“Please, I don’t want–”
“Who gives a fuck what you want? Interrogations always get me horned up–so you’re gonna get that fuck whether you want it or not.”
He unlocked the handcuffs holding Oliver to the radiator and dragged him into the bedroom, laughing at the small man’s attempt to free himself from his tight grip. He threw him onto the bed, pinned him down, and started forcing his cock into his ass, raw and unlubed. Oliver fought against it and tried to get away, but his fight only seemed to make the fuck better for Keith, who dragged him backward by the hips, impaling him on his massive shaft, inch by inch. Eventually, he gave up, and Keith climbed up, hammering into him, taunting him, checking underneath to see if Oliver was even getting hard–which he was, to Oliver’s own disgust.
“I guess you really do like it rough, you slut–is this really what you fucking wanted all along? Well, you only have yourself to thank for this, you know. The only reason I’m here is because you were stupid enough to think you could cross Pigtown and get away with it. Well don’t worry, slut–we have all night and day tomorrow to play. I’ll give you what you fucking need, plenty of it, and then we’re going to pay Rod a visit, eh? I think you have an apology to give the boss, don’t you?”
He wrapped one massive, hairy arm around Oliver’s throat and hauled him up. Oliver struggled for breath and arched his back as much as possible–his body was raised completely off the bed now, and with one thick hand, Keith reached around, gripped Oliver’s cock in one huge hand, and started tugging on it roughly in time with his own thrusts. He was…close, Oliver realized, and he found himself looking forward to an orgasm at least–but as he crossed over the edge, Keith gripped his cock hard, making him scream, his cum trickling out but ruining the orgasm completely.
“What, you thought you’d be getting another orgasm ever again? You fucking cunt!” Keith laughed, pounding in harder now, shoving Oliver down onto the bed and giving him the full length of his cock for another minute until he unloaded deep inside him. “Fucking whore–you’re mine now, and I’m going to payback the pain you put me through a hundred fold, just you fucking wait,” he said, pulling his cock free. Oliver breathed a sigh of relief, only to feel Keith’s fist force its way inside him with a pop. He screamed again, but the night was young, and his new master was only just getting started.
It was around nine the next night, that Keith dragged a handcuffed Oliver down the steps and back into Pigtown. The previous day had seemed like they would never end. Keith’s new mind had a never ending capacity for abuse–he would transition seamlessly from fucking, to fisting, to torture and back again in sessions that stretched on for hours. Every time he saw Oliver’s cock rising thanks to the treatment, he would taunt and toy with him, and each and every time he had ruined his orgasm, leaving him shaking, sobbing and hornier than ever, even as exhausted as he was. He was allowed to rest a few times, but never for longer than a couple of hours, and always handcuffed to the bed. He thought about trying to escape…but he was terrified of what might happen if Keith caught him. He’d never met someone like this, and all he really wanted was for all of it to stop. He was thankful when Keith told him it was time to head back to the bar–no matter what Rod might do to him in there as punishment, he was somehow certain that it would be better than this–it had to be, right?
The bar was sparsely occupied when he stumbled in, but behind the bar Rod’s eyes lit up with excitement. “There you two are–I was getting worried.”
“No need to worry about me, boss,” Keith said, dragging Oliver over to the bar.
“You took care of the little shit’s magic whatever?”
“Sure did–some ring from his witch of a grandmother–had a ward of protection or something. Stopped working after he came in here though, and I smashed it for good measure.”
“Good to fucking hear,” Rod said, coming around the bar to where Oliver was standing, “So, what do you think? Is your old boyfriend everything you wanted him to be? You have a good time with him? It sure as fucking hell looks like he enjoyed the shit out of you boy, you look like a piece of shit.”
“Please–please, I’m sorry. I…I was wrong, please just let me go.”
Rod laughed, “Boy, get on your fucking knees.”
Oliver tried to resist, but the magic of the place, the compulsion in Rod’s words, brought him down, his face inches from Rod’s crotch.
“Now see? You broke the rules before, boy. You know what that makes you? It means you’re a lawbreaker. You know what happens to lawbreakers, right? Lawbreakers have to go to prison. And who better to keep an eye on a lawbreaker than a man of the law, like Keith here?” Oliver whimpered a bit, watching Rod massage his growing cock through the front of his grungy jeans. “Yeah–I like that idea a lot, don’t you Keith? You willing to keep an eye on this slut for me?”
Bracken's Corner 