The Formation of Calluses

Burst

It was still dark when I woke up some time well before dawn. The room was much colder now.

He'd rolled off of me at some point, left me naked and spread atop the musty quilts and pillows. His heavy arm, flung possessively across my chest, was the only thing keeping me from feeling like a used toy. The edges of his huge, powerful form were traced and emphasized by the faded glow of light that still leaked into the room from the hallway. It was a strange feeling, knowing this man had shoved his dick into my body only hours before...knowing that I'd opened myself to it, endured it, and had ultimately liked it...loved it, even...and now he was sleeping on his stomach next to me, snoring softly into the pillows with his bare ass exposed, as vulnerable as he'd ever be with anyone. What if I'd turned out to be a psychopath? What if I ended up doing something desperate to keep him from coercing me into any more brutal sex acts? The sheer, irrational confidence he had...

Well, he is a cop.

My belly and chest and crotch were absolutely covered in dried cum, matting and tangling my body hair. My ass was aching in the deepest way imaginable, while still feeling numb. It was...strangely pleasant. I could feel the dribbling wetness of the lube he'd used between my cheeks, as well as the cum that must have been coating every nook and cranny of my bowels. Two loads worth, each deposited into my deepest self, as a bull would impregnate a soon-to-be-heifer. Couldn't forget that part…

I slowly, carefully lifted his arm off my chest. It was heavier than I thought it would be, but he was sleeping like a log. A giant, hibernating bear that would attack and devour me if I accidentally woke it from its slumber.

I got off the bed, wincing at the low groan of the mattress springs. Whether it was the creeping cold or my own awkward sense of vulnerability, I didn't want to be naked. My first thought was to find my boxers, until I remembered I hadn't brought any per his orders. My dress shirt was in tatters, a crumpled lump of cloth in the corner of the room. I slipped it on anyway. Most of the buttons were gone. The collar hung open on either side of my chest, letting the cold air sharpen my nipples as the fabric grazed them, but there were enough buttons left to cover my stomach at least.

Wearing the ruined shirt just made me feel even more awkward, because it made me think about sex. I'd never been the object of desire before, never had to think about how enticing I might look to someone in a position of such power. The torn shirt hung off my body in such a uselessly perverse way, with all the most important bits still very much accessible, making me feel like the freshly ravaged virgin I was. If I was going to crawl back into bed with that man and try to get more sleep – and I knew I'd need it – I wanted my ass covered first.

His jeans were still in a pile at the foot of the bed, as well as the pair of black boxers trapped within them. I carefully lifted the whole pile of jeans and boxers and belt, careful not to make a sound. I left the bedroom, stepping softly down the hallway until I was back in the well-lit living room at the other end of the house.

I sat on the cold leather sofa and slipped his boxers from the jeans, the belt buckle clinking softly as I did. I felt like a thief, taking his property without asking – but it was his fault I didn't have anything to wear, wasn't it? Besides, there had been real affection in his handling of me the night before, despite all the frightening roughness of the ordeal. Surely he wouldn't mind me wearing his boxers, and dirty boxers at that. I smelled them, trying to guess how dirty they might be, and was immediately overwhelmed by the sheer musk of his scent – enough to make me lightheaded for a moment. Enough to turn me on, to make my belly ache for his touch…

I ignored my sudden arousal and pulled the boxers on, glad to find they fit well enough. The thought of his dried sweat and precum rubbing against my skin was both disgusting and enticing, which made it...hot? Why was it hot? Why did I love his filthy smell so much? Why was I enjoying anything about this experience? A week ago I'd imagined it as some hidden layer of hell (and in some ways it was), but now I was finding many confusing layers to it, that was only purely horrific on paper...

I shook my head. More than anything, I just wanted a shower – but that was going a step too far I felt, and the noise would likely wake him. From what little I knew of him, he would use it as an excuse to force me into another bout of fucking, and I didn't think I could handle more of that treatment yet.

I noticed the frayed black corner of his wallet protruding from the pocket of the jeans. I paused, listening closely to the sounds of the house. The wind was groaning lowly outside, dead branches shifting and sighing out in the darkness. I could just hear him snoring, still fast asleep.

I took the wallet, letting my curiosity overwhelm my sense of self-preservation. It was small and black and ordinary. I opened it. There was his driver's license, denoting his status as a cop. His face was handsome in the photo, but very stern. No emotion – just a direct glare above the straight grim line of his lips. No hint of the sadistic sexual predator I knew him to be, or anything but calm, civic-minded authority.

I rummaged further. As I'd guessed, he was old enough to have actual, physical photos inside. A woman. His wife? She was beautiful, blue-eyed, blonde, and proper, but the photo was old. Must have been taken in the nineties, judging by the quality and the fashion sense, along with some photos of a young black-haired, blue-eyed boy with a hesitant smile.

So he had a son. A son with black hair, blue eyes, and pale skin. A son that was likely around my own age by now…

I didn't like where those thoughts were taking me. Not one bit. I closed the wallet and pushed it back into the jeans. I didn't want to think about the raging erection that had suddenly filled up the boxers I was wearing, or how shallow my breathing had become.

I slowly crept back down the hallway, the door of the bedroom looming like the hungry maw of some cosmic beast, drawing me back into its gullet with its undeniable siren's call. I set the jeans down at the foot of the bed and slowly crawled back into it, blood pumping in my ears, doing everything I could not to wake him. He kept snoring.

I turned onto my side, facing away from him, wrapping the shirt around my chest as I crossed my arms. It was still cold, but I didn't dare lift the quilt we were lying on top of. The wind began to howl outside, making me feel even colder. I wished I'd remembered to find my socks before getting back into bed...

After some time I found myself inching my back closer to his body. His warmth. Whatever my reservations, I knew I was stuck in this situation, and I needed to sleep. And to sleep, I needed to be warm. We'd both been naked and all over each other not that long ago – there wasn't any point in avoiding contact with his skin, as long as it didn’t wake him.

The small of my back was resting against his hip now. His heat was like a blazing fire, warming my spine. In time he shifted in his sleep, the thick meat of his naked thigh pushing into the crack of my ass, warming me there as well. It felt safe, especially with the fabric of the boxers between his flesh and mine. It was enough to finally lull me into the deep, black sleep of exhaustion.

There was a spark somewhere in the inky black as I woke to the wet, invasive sensation of his mouth around my nipple, his prickly beard raking across the bare skin of my chest – and the firm, hot presence of his huge dick at my hip. I was dazed, barely awake, but that was quickly changing. Electric jolts shot up and down my body as his mouth grew more eager. I was gasping through my half opened lips, and I couldn't know how long I'd been doing that. I opened my heavy eyes.

Cold sunlight drifted through the closed curtains, bathing the bare walls in soft white hues. The room had taken on new life in the light, revealing a couple of framed, silver-signed 80's hair band posters, the only things marring the plain walls. An old wooden dresser sat next to the door to the hallway, and there was a sizable pile of dirty wife beaters and crumpled socks in the corner by the master bathroom. The place smelled heavily of pleasant, potent musk, much of it surely my own.

I was lying in his hard naked lap, splayed on my back, spine arched, arms flailed to either side in their sleeves. He'd pushed my tattered shirt up around my neck at some point, not bothering to unbutton it. It was covering my mouth and nose, blocking most of my view of what was going on below, making the raw physical sensations all the more intense. One of his big warm hands held my covered shoulders in place while the other hand engulfed the naked pec he was suckling on. I grunted shyly in my growing surprise, trying to put my mind back together. "What time is it?" I asked, breathless and groggy, and immediately felt silly.

He raised his eyes to me as I stirred. His mouth left my hard nipple cold in the morning air. “Early,” he said gruffly. My shirt fell away from my face as his big hand left my blushing chest, and I watched as it roamed down my rib cage, across the tender flesh of my stretched stomach, and over my naked hips. He ran his fingertips over the length of my engorged morning wood, making me squirm. He took something off the bed just next to my hips and raised it for me to see. He was holding the boxers I'd been wearing, which he'd obviously removed before waking me. His boxers.

“You done fucked up already, Mikey,” he said softly, kindly even, as he dangled the boxers above my body. There was something low and sadistic in his voice that made me extremely uneasy. “I didn't say you could wear these. You didn't even ask...that's a real shitty way to start the day. What do you say now?”

I began to blubber out some kind of apology, and he immediately pushed his boxers into my open mouth. “Go on – open up boy,” he ordered, and I did. He didn't stop until they were stuffed behind my teeth in their entirety, and I was too startled to resist. The bulge of rank black cloth was all I could feel, taste, smell. The stale, musky scent of the dried crust from both our crotches was so strong that I choked on it, dry heaving, panting loudly through my nose. I couldn't spit them out, couldn't close my mouth. He'd gagged me.

“You want them? You got them. Stop fuckin complaining boy...”

His fingers appeared at my balls, which had retracted a bit up into my body from the morning cold. He slapped the fuzzy pink mound of my scrotum, along with both of the small, vulnerable orbs beneath. It was light, controlled – and more than enough to get my attention.

I grunted into the boxers at the fiery pain that followed. “WHAT THE FUCK,” I tried to shout, but it came out of my nose as nothing but angry, muffled grunts. I was kicking my legs without thinking, hands suddenly pushing against his shoulders, trying to get myself out of his lap.

He slapped my balls again, harder this time – then again – hard enough for me to hear it.

The pain immediately turned into swollen, blossoming agony, and I wailed mutely against the odious gag as tears filled my eyes, blurring the room into a pure, red-tinged fog. My spine went rigid before I collapsed back into his lap. I stopped kicking my legs. I couldn't move, couldn't think as the roiling spike of agony consumed me. It was gone as soon as it started, but the rest of the pain remained, sticky and pulsing in my guts. His long cock was hard and heavy against the meaty flank of my buttocks, and his face was split into a keenly satisfied smirk.

“Shhhh…” he cooed. He firmly pushed my knees apart, even as I flinched and whimpered at his touch, wide awake and afraid of him. The aching pain was horrible, unending, and I was terrified he'd keep going – but I let him spread my trembling thighs. I let him catch my watery eyes with his, pleading in a throaty, muffled whine, keenly aware of his control over me.

He smiled warmly, running his other hand through my sweaty hair, massaging my scalp with his strong, thick fingertips. “I know, I know...that part's over now, if you want it to be. You're doing so good. Keep those legs spread, boy...”

Somehow my cock was still hard. I didn't understand it, but at least I knew he liked what he saw. His big fingers pushed my dark pubes aside as they firmly encircled my cock at its girthy base. It bobbed stiffly as he fondled it, lewd and swollen. It was growing visibly larger as it flexed in his grasp, chasing its own pleasure. It felt very, very good, even as the roaring ache from my cowering balls spread and settled over my groin, rolling deep inside my belly.

I knew he'd go back to slapping my poor balls if I did anything else to resist him, knew the fingers running through my hair could easily become a fist. I couldn't handle anymore of that. I could only watch my body respond as he did what he pleased. My nipples were hard and red, chest blushing deeply between them. The fur of my pecs and belly was darkening as I began to sweat despite the cold air. His body was like a furnace against mine. Massive, powerful, and utterly dominant. Its sinews flexed like mountain ranges as he bent over my prone form, watching each and every twitch I made for any sign of refusal. Our pale skin seemed to fuse as he pulled me further into the heat of his lap, our tense muscles blending with the stark white of the room beyond. My cock throbbed, a creature with a mind of its own.

"Thought I'd been clear enough with you, boy – especially after how fuckin perfect you were last night. But I guess you do need some educating after all...” He smiled crookedly as he played with me. “While you're here, you belong to me. You're my fuckin slave. You do everything I say, and nothing else."  His voice was deep and booming, pushing my thoughts back down beneath him as his hands told me how horny my body was. “You get dressed when and if I say you can get dressed. You especially don't go touching shit that doesn't belong to you. That's about as naughty as it fucking gets, college boy, and I can't let that go without a little discipline. You understand all that? Huh?”

I nodded my head and grunted through the boxers, thinking I did.

“Good boy.” His fingers left my hair. “Now pay attention.”

He lunged forward and pushed his meaty forearm down into my throat as he took hold of my left nipple in his calloused fingers, twisting it cruelly. At the same time he squeezed my cock hard – too hard. He glared down into my face as I choked on the sharpness of the pain, snorting desperately through my nose. I was trying to push his arm away from my throat before I knew what was going on, thinking of nothing but ending the attack on my nipple. He just twisted harder, squeezed harder, and pressed his weight down over me.

I wheezed loudly through the gagging boxers as my eyes bulged and my thoughts were washed out of my ears like dirty bathwater. I could feel my nipple straining and stretching as he pulled it away from my body, pinched it hard, flicked it softly, shocked my senses right out of me. I was kicking my legs as he mercilessly crushed my cock in his fist. He pushed his knee harder up into the base of my spine, lifting me higher and throwing my lower half off balance, until my legs had no leverage at all. I was truly helpless.

He snickered at the sight of my body writhing against him, clearly enjoying himself. “Take it like a man, Mikey!” he bellowed directly into my face, bathing me in the heated storm of his breath. He yanked my cock around, jerking it back and forth like a dog would thrash its favorite toy. “Stop your fuckin squirming boy!”

His forearm bore down harder into my throat as he twisted my nipple in a different and equally excruciating direction. He wasn't going to stop, I realized. It was hard enough to breathe with the boxers stuffing my mouth, even without the finely-tuned torture he was meting out. Now it was – I was –

He's choking you out. He's crazy.

Tears were leaking from my eyes. Panic was setting in fast. I couldn't breathe. My heart was pounding in my temples, loud as a freight train, begging for oxygen. He was choking me. Really choking me! I was all alone out here in this tiny nowhere town, and I hadn't told a soul where I was going. Was it really me making that terrible sound?

“Calm down, boy. You can breathe.”

This psychopath is going to choke you to death...disappear you… 

He took his arm off my throat, leaving me gasping through my nostrils as thin bursts of air shot back down into my lungs. He took a handful of my sweat-soaked hair and yanked my head back. His face as inches from mine in a millisecond, as if he were going to kiss me. Instead he bit down on the boxers in my mouth and ripped them out with a sharp jerk of his head, scraping my lips with his wiry beard.

I heaved like an animal, finally free of it, mindlessly gulping down as much air as I could get. I think I was crying, but I'll never be sure.

“Look at me.” His voice was iron. “Calm down, boy – look at me. What do you say?”

I tried to say it, but only dry, garbled coughing came out. I took a deep breath – another – and found a bit of my sanity again. “Sorry – I'm sorry,” I sputtered, looking anywhere but into his eyes. I was trembling all over, too shocked to move. My cock still throbbed painfully in his death grip, the sheer constricting pressure of it pushing the glistening head right out of the foreskin. Instead of its normal pink, it was quickly darkening into a deep, bloody red. He squeezed harder, pushing a thick, oozing trickle of precum from my tortured cock like toothpaste from a tube...

“Sorry sir!” I barked suddenly, pleading to the cop in him, driven by the panicked certainty that the head of my cock would explode at any second.

His face seemed to soften, and his sneer melted into a grin. A warm grin, like before. “Good. That's real good. You're still a spoiled little thing, though...I'm still gonna teach you some manners...but you're a good boy, aren't you?”

I blushed at those words as I finally looked up into his narrow black eyes. I was instantly flooded with the warmth of a strange new emotion I was too terrified to explore. Still, it was a simple question, and I knew how it needed to be answered. “Yes,” I said hesitantly.

He pulled my dick back toward my knees and held it there. I heard myself shriek – it felt like he'd stopped just short of ripping it off. “Yes what now?”

“Sir! Yes sir! Please – please, fuck, please sir!”

“Good boy.” He finally let my cock go free, and it popped back against my flat stomach with a wet smack that rang in my ears like a gunshot. I felt it swell and ache as it freely expanded to its normal girth and beyond, overwhelming me with relief and a clawing, insistent lust that had been lurking deep beneath the fear. I'd been insanely hard the entire time. The inescapable pain of his razor-sharp attack on my body, the utter, doomed helplessness of it, the fear of what he might do to me next – none of it had felt good. None of it. Why was I…

Why am I so fucking turned on by this? 

He fingered the slippery head of my inflamed cock beneath the pouty lip of my foreskin, making me quiver and shake. I didn't move to stop him, though he was no longer holding me down. In fact I stiffened and swelled, sure I was going to –

He took finger away, smiling like a demon, and I almost cried out as the growing orgasm sank back down into my nethers. “You'll be a quick learner,” he said with utter confidence.

I couldn't begin to think of a reply, and it was just as well. His hand appeared beneath my ass clamped down on a meaty globe. He lifted my midsection, pinning my shoulder and raising my hips as my flopping cock drooled precum into my belly button, dribbling down the trail of dark fur toward my sternum. He lowered his bald head until it was lost behind the rise of panting my chest. I felt his tongue flicking in and out of my sticky naval, much like a serpent's. I was breathing faster. Lusting for it. I couldn't care. Couldn't think about it now. I had to bear it, weather the storm, get through this surreal, horrific weekend without being driven insane.

It only took a moment for his mouth to immerse my cock in hot wet filth, and his tongue…

“Ohhh, oh, fuck, thank y...” What was that? What had I almost said?

He ignored me, lapping hungrily at my tender, swollen dick. I felt a fresh, familiar sensation at my asshole, which was still pretty loose from the immense fucking I'd received the night before, as well as whatever he'd been doing to my unconscious body that morning. His slick finger nudged into the center of my hole, pushed. I clenched instinctively.

"Don't tease," he said gruffly, sternly, hot breath washing over my wet dick.

I breathed deeply, shakily, and relaxed my asshole as best I could – pushed it open, like I was trying to take a shit – and his fingers did the rest. Two of them entered me roughly with a fistful of spit from his mouth, knocking around my soft, fleshy bowels until they found my swollen prostate, where they kneaded into me with a precision his dick would never match.

It happened so quickly, I barely registered the sting of the intrusion before my entire body pulsed with burning pleasure and my sweet spot came alive. I jerked and moaned despite myself, my hands grasping at the crumpled sheets and the warm skin of his broad, hard, muscled shoulders. The pain was forgotten, replaced. This was the good stuff...what I shamefully craved...

He kneaded deeper. He put his other hand on my hip to keep me still, his forearm splayed across my quivering stomach while I wriggled at the end of his knuckles like a worm on a hook. My hard, drooling dick was a pink exclamation point bobbing in the air just below his smirking mouth, begging to be eaten alive.

"That's right," he growled through his big mustache, dark eyes ravaging me as I debased myself in his lap. "Spoiled boys like you will complain all day, until I've got a couple fingers pressing down on your slut button. You can't tease me anymore, you sexy little cunt. I know you love it now. I know you love it."

I had no response for him. Didn't need one. My moans and mewling were telling him everything he wanted to hear. His finger-fucking was spreading his spit into me, finding pockets of lube and cum left over from the night before, making my ass froth wetly around his knuckles. I was coming dangerously close to climax, but every ounce of my being rebelled against it, held it in –

He pulled his fingers from my ass quite abruptly. He wiped the excess juices on my thigh, thin dark hair streaking across pale skin. His rough hands closed in on my hips and re-positioned my body like a doll. I was on my back and facing him now, legs spread open on either side of his thick, rippling torso as he pulled my ass into his crotch. His hard, hot cock was suddenly sliding up into the fleshy cleft of my open ass, the tip of its considerable length pushing up into the tenderized bulge of my ballsack. The smooth heat of its underside was throbbing against my twitching hole, teasing me into wanting it again.

"I'm gonna use you now," he said calmly, stroking my swollen dick slowly, deliberately, making me swoon inwardly as my entire body blushed bright pink. My shirt had bunched around my neck as my lower body was lifted up against him. He reached down and ripped it open, sending the few remaining buttons flying. It fell open on either side of my heaving chest, my furry, bulging pecs now easily accessible to his hands and his eyes. "I'm gonna use you like the bitch you are,” he grumbled sternly, flicking each of my nipples until they perked to meet his fingers. “Gonna make this hairy pink hole a pussy. My pussy. You like the sound of that, boy?"

"Yes sir," I said immediately, obediently, my voice breathless and horned. The fear of him and the pain he'd given me was forgotten, at least for the moment. The yearning memory of his tool hammering against my prostate the night before had overtaken everything else. His powerful cock was so close to doing it again, burrowing against my winking, inflamed hole and all the sensitive flesh around it. I was desperate to feel it pumping into me again, pain be damned. “Please, sir!” I heard myself beg, my mouth forming the words before I'd even thought them.

He grinned widely, teeth white beneath his black mustache. "Good boy. You just earned yourself a class-A finisher. Now hold still and relax, you fuckin brat..."

His hands tightened on my flesh as his hips began to move, the belly of his cock sliding across my frothy ass, warming it, creating a delicious friction. His hands ran up the undersides of my meaty thighs and pushed them back ever so slightly – but deliberately – until my bottom half was raised off the bed, spread wide open for him with my open legs high in the air. The awkwardness of this vulnerable position was filthy, delicious, and only made me hornier for what was coming. The head of his dick slid down my taint as his hips reared back into position, knocking at my stretched asshole.

The steady rhythm of his long cock sliding over my exposed ass never slowed, and the beat of it began to push the head of his cock into me. I opened up as well as I knew how, but despite my horniness, I was still new to all this. The anticipation was keeping me from relaxing – as well as the memory of pain that was still strong in the back of my mind. The pressure of his huge cockhead nudged insistently, but it wasn't getting inside.

"Go on, push. Push out. Like you're gonna take a shit. Use those muscles." He was glaring at me, his face full of animal want between my knees. "You'd better start loosening up real soon, boy. Deep breathe, now. Relax."

I did as he instructed, though his words had only made more more nervous. I let the exhale relax my body, spine to ass, and did my best to keep it that way. He tried again, a bit harder, and the head of his cock popped into me with an abrupt, meaty implosion.

I groaned with genuine frustration as my ass clenched involuntarily, painfully, and squeezed the head of his cock out of my ass with a wet shlop. "I'm not used to it –" I started meekly.

He didn’t seem to hear me. His face was a mask of unflinching intent as he pushed my thighs all the way up to my chin, hamstrings screaming. In that same white hot millisecond, he bore his body down into mine and pushed his cock right back into my defenseless asshole, setting every nerve ending between my hips on fire.

There was no stopping him. I was defenseless. The mattress creaked and groaned on its springs, and he was suddenly, painfully inside of me. His massive dick had punched halfway into me, well past the bit of spit he'd prepared me with and into what remained of last night's cum and lube. It was unimaginably painful, like nothing I'd ever felt – not even the night before. I was sure he'd ripped me in half.

I cried out deeply, like a man, and began to beat at his tightened back with my fists. “Too fast,” I managed to hiss through my clenched teeth, the world going red at the edge of my vision. The ripping pain and my compromised position beneath him had robbed my arms of their strength. “Too much! Please - ahhh - stop!”

He said nothing, and did nothing to stop me as the dull thunk thunk thunk of my fists against his hard muscles filled the room. He just held me down with his massive arms, hands firmly gripping my thighs as he kept my body bent and accessible. His muscles were bulging and growing red with the effort of keeping me still. His eyes bore down into my crumpling face, which was burning like the rest of me. He wasn't pumping his hips. He just let his huge, rock hard cock rest deep inside inside my frantic ass, which was spasming around him, against him, wet and sweaty and trapped.

"Relax." His stern face and his broad, immensely strong body looming between my open legs were the only things I could see. The pale skin of my thighs was growing red where his fingers were digging into them. He may as well have been my entire world.

"Please...” I whimpered, pleading, looking straight into his eyes. My voice...was I crying? “Please take it out…please, sir..."

"No. Fucking relax. This is happening, boy. You know what to do. Man up and figure it the fuck out. Now."

I gripped his rigid elbows to steady myself, felt the sinews of his hairy forearms strain as they held me down. I squeezed my eyes shut and took a deep, shaky breath, let it out. I tried to force my ass to relax around him. It only quivered – clenched – then loosened the slightest bit –

His dick immediately rammed in to the hilt, rough pubs smashing into my ass flesh and raking against the rim of my impossibly stretched hole. He growled like a beast, like he was actually trying to hurt me. I gasped deeply at the pain, the stretching, being filled up and beaten down like this. My vision became hazy even as my eyes widened, my entire body ablaze with an overload of intense sensations. I could see his face above me, rippling with barely controlled need. My feet were twitching madly above his head, toes curling until they cramped. My dick flopped in my face as his great thrust bent my body into itself. It was still oozing precum, somehow still half hard.

"Push out!"

I did push out then. My body was remembering the lessons of the previous night for survival's sake. Or perhaps simply because his booming voice demanded nothing but complete obedience. My ass finally caved in on itself, loosening around his massive cock and letting the last few centimeters sink into my blown out hole.

He growled happily and let his massive cock settle inside of me while I cried and panted and shuddered, as if I could somehow sound pathetic enough to evoke sympathy in him. I could feel more damned tears leaking freely down my cheeks.

He leaned down, making me flinch and gasp as his cock nudged deeper into my guts. I thought he was going to kiss me, and I braced myself for it. Instead his lips sucked against my cheeks, his tongue darting around the corners of my eyes. He was slurping up my tears.

I stopped mewling, shocked beyond even that. It didn't matter how much I cried or begged, I finally realized. He wanted me, he had me, and he'd fuck me however he pleased, no matter how I took it. The fatherly tenderness he's showed me last night had been a gift, and I'd been lucky enough to accept it with the eagerness of a horny, confused, curious kid – but that was over. I was his bitch, and there was nothing I could do to change it, no conversation or compromise to be had with a piece of fuck-meat like me. The pulsing, swollen pain that now wracked my insides didn’t hold a candle against the shame of knowing I was truly this far beneath him. My cocked throbbed, aching against my belly as I quivered deliciously across the length of the invading shaft beneath it.

He was grinning again, licking my tears from his lips. He knew I'd finally broken against him, that I finally understood what I was to him. He must have seen it in my face, heard it in my cowed silence. I was basking in it, for there was no other choice. I was ashamed so deeply that my stomach ached – a bottomless welling of sweet, pulsing hurt just above the throbbing knob of me that his dick was pinning against my bowels. This was submission. This was what it was to be truly fucked. I'd had no idea...

The rhythm of his meaty hips returned slowly, his furry flesh sliding across my own. His dick retracted from my hot, softened crevasse only slightly before engorging itself again, and I simpered meekly at the forced pleasure of it. “Now you're taking it...” he cooed proudly, and I blushed at his words, watching his body crush into my open hips. Larger and larger blooms of hideously intense pleasure washed over me with each long, deliberate thrust. His cock was almost leaving me each time he pulled out, and my hole was tightening as it did. This easily kept his giant mushroom head inside, only to loosen and hum as he pushed the whole thing back into me once more, until his giant balls fell against my ass cheeks...again and again, long and slow and inescapable...

The wide head of his cock was grinding against my swollen prostate with each of these fucking thrusts, sending sharp waves of hot pleasure up and down my body, skewering my thoughts, reminding me why I wanted him in the first place. I quickly lost myself in it as his rhythm intensified, the pulses of pain and pleasure becoming more and more like explosions as the friction heated my insides, spreading all the slippery juices he'd left inside me the night before. My fists dropped from his back as open hands to lay splayed behind my head, arms tossed about with the rest of my body as he fucked me deeply in the soft white light of the morning.

My dick was so hard.

He pulled it towards him and let it spring from his fingers to slap against my crunched stomach. He towered over me, still fucking me steadily, fixedly, luridly. His hands left my nethers and grabbed my wrists, pinning me. My thighs stayed open for him, knees bent over his shoulders, toes curling beyond. I was moaning wantonly, letting myself go. Letting him turn me out. The fucking of his cock had wiped away my will to do anything but take it. Beg for it. I groaned lustily.

"That's the spirit right there, boy," he breathed hot into my ear. "You love it?"

My words failed, falling into a moan as he stabbed into me again deeper than ever.

His hands clamped down hard on my wrists. "Do you love it."

"Yes!" I barely managed to breathe, at the mercy of my own nerve endings, naked and cornered in every way imaginable.

I felt him grin into my neck. He wrapped his big meaty arms around my torso and leaned back, pulling me with him, my ass still merged with his cock. The world became a blur of flesh, blooming pleasure, and sharp jolts of pain, but I wanted it now. A moment later I was astride him, facing him, my legs wrapped around his thick midsection. His huge thighs were supporting my hips, holding me against him. My ruined dress shirt hung from my shoulders in sweaty tatters, framing the muscles of my tense torso in a way he must have found alluring. My ass was firmly planted in his lap, aching beautifully and filthily. It was fully consuming his massive sex as it effortlessly skewered me from below.

"Now ride it. Ride it like I know you want to." His hips pumped up into me once, sharply, and that tight, meaty stab was all it took to get me going. I wanted nothing more than to please him. I had to please him, honestly; it was the only way to keep his monstrous cock punching into that deep, secret place he'd forced me to discover, the only way to keep my guts exploding with that all-consuming pleasure and ache. He wasn't just a cop. He wasn't just older than me. He was the master of my nerve endings, the puzzle piece I'd been missing ever since I'd first jacked off in my parents' shower. If he left me empty at that point, I’d be left wanting more of it forever. So I strained the muscles of my thighs and hips, torso and ass, in ways I'd never thought to use them before. I ground my body down into his cock, and began to fuck myself on it.

My mind dissipated with each meaty bounce I took in his lap, each ravaging thrust, thoughts replaced by an animal need to consume him utterly. I was bouncing on top of his stiff meat, arms wrapped around his broad shoulders as his hands clasped my fleshy buttocks beneath my hanging shirt in two governing, vice-like grips, spreading my furry cheeks apart so I could fuck myself as deeply as I dared. I was grunting in a high-pitched voice without realizing it, the same voice I’d been wailing in the night before, and he laughed heartily. He put his mouth on my heaving chest, nibbling sharply at my nipples, wetting them and erecting them and sucking them noisily like teats, hungry for my naked flesh. I wailed loudly under this fresh attack on my senses, but it only blended with the intensity of everything else I was feeling. My entire being consisted of the roiling tempest of slick flesh that was my ass and bowels and prostate, and I was only thinking of impaling myself upon him.

His hips were pumping up into me now, in time with my own humping. I fell back over his knees, arching my spine, impaling my lower half on his hot dick with all the straining muscles of my back and torso, pushing my pliant ass as deep into his lap as it would go – that hot, wet cradle of stabbing pleasure.

He grunted his ascent, holding my dick tightly like a joystick while I skewered myself on him again and again, mewling like a bitch in heat. His free hand roamed over my stomach, my chest, my red, erect nipples while I bucked hungrily. His eyes were drinking me in, making me feel like the filthiest, most beautiful thing in the world.

"You whore," he breathed, kneading my dick almost painfully, thumbing the underside of my glans to make me jerk and writhe. "You sexy bitch, you love it." I nearly came then.

As if he knew it was coming – judging by the tensing of my muscles, the swelling of my dick, the sound of my mewling, the rising of my balls – I didn't know which – he stopped jerking me off. He pulled me off his dick and turned me over. I fell forward onto my face, into the pile of pillows at the head of the bed, my open shirt tumbling down my back to pool around my head. My loose, empty ass was jutting into the air, and his hands still grasped it firmly.

He spread my hairy cheeks without ritual and entered me just as roughly as before. My frothy ass devoured him easily at this new angle, ate the pleasure and the pain with a thrilling sensation of meat on meat. He began to thrust into me with all the vigor he'd been saving until that moment, hands squeezing my ruddy ass-flesh white between rock hard fingers, spreading them wide to watch my slick red hole stretch and swell around the pumping shaft of his cock as he fucked it deep and hard.

I groaned into the pillow as his knees pushed mine apart from behind, hooking his feet over my ankles to keep my legs open for his hungry cock. He slapped my ass – hard. So hard it reverberated throughout my insides, velvet bowels shuddering against rock hard cock as they clenched against his fucking. I swear my teeth clacked together. I squealed in surprise, shrill and alarmed, but his fucking never let up. Instead one of his hands groped its way up down back, bundled the loose fabric of my shirt into a tight fist, and pulled.

I cried out, grasping at the shaking headboard as he used my shredded shirt as a harness to yank me roughly to my knees. He yanked again, twisting the fabric around his wrist like a vice, which pulled my shoulders back behind me, along with my useless arms. I was completely off balance, elbows almost touching behind the lewd arch of my straining back, burning ass perked and smashed against his ramming hips. His grip on my shirt was the only thing keeping my face from crashing into the headboard in front of me, which would easily shatter my teeth. He held me there, hovering and helpless and groaning with fear, with lust, as the shaking headboard bobbed in front of my face. His left hand was still squeezing and slapping my meaty, twitching ass cheeks as he drilled me like a stuck pig.

His pace became frantic as my nervous moans began to rise, until he was fucking me much harder and faster than he had the night before. His cock wasn't hitting my sweet spot nearly as easily in this position, but he wanted it that way. My engorged dick slapped against my stomach as it bounced violently beneath my hips, my entire body lewdly wrenched back and forth between the my straining, entangled shoulders and the cock that was punching deep into my ass. Each pathetic cry I made was rattled and shaken by his merciless pounding, but I let them come. He really seemed to like hearing it, and it was the only thing I could do of my own free will. He was using me like a tool for his pleasure, and my own was just a byproduct.

He snarled as he came, the warmth of his juices exploding in the deepest part of me, brimming wetly from my ass and running down the back of my thighs in hot streaks that grew cold much too soon. He slapped my ass hard again – again – grunting and growling like an animal in rut, out of his mind as much as I was.

He pulled out of me, turned me over, and slapped me across the face, his dick hard and red as it slid over my groin, pumping its last bits of hot cream into the sweaty dark bush of my pubic hair. It happened frighteningly quickly, a matter of seconds. My arms were still twisted into my shirt, caught painfully beneath the small of my back. I barely had time to register the sting of the slap before he'd leaned in and kissed me hungrily, squeezing my furry pecs to the point of white pain with his big hairy hands. I gasped heavily under the attack, inhaling the heat of his lungs into into mine. My fists were gripping the sheets beneath me, afraid to move at all.

He was still hard when his tongue left my mouth, forging a trail down the fur of my sweat-slick chest and stomach to my dick, which was still solid as a rock despite the brutality of his assault – or because of it. He easily lifted my trembling thighs onto his shoulders, putting his sweaty, bearded face just inches from my desperate sex. He pulled my foreskin away from my glans, exposing the glistening red head of my cock to his eager lips. "Class A," he breathed huskily, and swallowed me whole.

Wet, hot pleasure enveloped my cock as he held my hips down and pulled his head away from them, taking my cock with him in his jaws. It was trapped, a curved sausage between his tight, meaty lips, and I moaned appreciatively, reveling in the fresh combination ecstasy and fear. His body shifted into an almost worshipful position as he went down on me, his firm, fuzzy ass perked high in the air beyond my splayed legs and the sexy expanse of his strong, curved back. His hands snaked up from either side of my thighs and roamed roughly over my furry abs as they flexed and stretched for him, electrifying my body with his touch. A muffled, hungry grunt escaped his throat as he swallowed my cock down to the hilt, burying his nose my pubes as I wriggled and gasped in helpless lust. He began to fuck my engorged dick with his mouth, wet lips suckling at the head of my cock before sliding down the fullness of its length and back again, driving me insane with need.

His eyes were fixated on mine as he devoured me, and I could not look away him. I whimpered in ecstasy with each stroke his mouth took on my sex, giving him a show whether I chose to or not. His hands ran up my stomach to grasp my aching chest, nipples poking hard and red between his thumbs and forefingers as he tweaked them tenderly, forcing me to thrust my hips into his eager mouth, playing me like a harp. He grunted with each suck, shoulders pressing firmly against the undersides of my thighs, his hairy chest tickling my sloppy, spent ass.

Somewhere between his kneading hands and his crushing lips, I came lazily in his mouth. His eyes never left mine as I whimpered and squirmed in his grip, his cheeks caving in tightly as my throbbing groin gyrated into his sucking maw. He swallowed each spurt of cum despite the impressive volume of the load, hungry and deliberate. Through the haze of aching pleasure that that consumed my brain, I could have sworn his lips were grinning around my dick.

He lay there between my splayed legs long after I'd come, fingering my loose, blown out hole and lapping at my drained, extremely sensitive cock, keeping it hard despite my confused mewling and questioning eyes. He was still hungry for my jism, not at all satisfied. He was truly a glutton for it, I'd soon realize, as well as so many other things...

I came again after some time by sheer force of physical manipulation, squealing wordlessly as my seed gushed into his slurping mouth. He greedily sucked that out of me as well – and, to my horror, kept sucking. My hips jerked back and forth beneath him, but I wasn't going anywhere. "Fuck, damn it - please - I can't -" My voice was shrill and frenzied and weak.

His hand left my aching pec and closed around my mouth, cutting off my words until they crumpled into raw, muffled shrieks.

The forced sensations jolting through my body were almost too much to handle, bleeding quickly from pleasure into a sharp, slippery, alien pain that would never end. I lost my head for a moment and tried to push his head away from my crotch, but my hands were still pinned beneath my back, arms still tangled by the fabric of my damned shirt. I could only twitch and wriggle and shriek into his palm.

He suckled and fingered and washed my body with his hot breath until my tortured cock was all but soft in his mouth, until I had melted into a trembling, heaving wreck of myself that could only beg him for mercy with the shrill, desperate whimpers of a wounded dog.

Finally he pulled away and pushed himself up, looming over me like a naked god. I was panting and sweating on my back, shattered into tiny pieces on the ruffled bedding below him. He seemed satisfied by the state of me. His cock was still hard, and for a moment I was afraid he wasn't finished with me after all – but he reached down and pushed my legs closed. My muscles complained sharply, and I realized this was the first time I'd closed my legs in what felt like hours. He turned me onto my side and grabbed the twisted fabric of my shirt, stripping it off my weak arms until I was finally free of it, finally as naked as he was. He let me crumble onto my back again, balling up the ruined shirt in his hands like so much trash.

He looked me over for a long moment, as my panting slowed and dissipated. “Gonna make some breakfast,” he said casually, before he turned and walked out of the room.

I pushed myself into a sitting position after a few moments of booming silence, my shoulders numb and shaking like leaves. I could barely hold myself up. I felt drained, in more ways than one. My brain was a jumbled, muted mess. I looked down at my body...my body, not his, now that he was finished with it...and found myself in awe of its sorry state. It glistened with drying sweat, dark fur matted over the lingering blush that still decorated my skin. My muscled physique – once a source of pride, of confident masculinity – now seemed dangerously appealing, a landscape of finely-toned sensuality that had been used and abused for another's pleasure, and would be again. My nipples were tender and bruised, flesh red and patchy around them. His gripping hands had left reddening marks on my thighs, hips, chest, stomach...my buttocks stung where he'd slapped them. My ass and insides throbbed dully, wetly, coated with his cum inside and out.

“Fuck...” I whispered. I could barely think, only feel – and I didn't know how to feel, or if I should even bother. I needed a shower. I needed to clear my mind…

I put my feet over the edge of the bed, intent on standing – but it was too much for me. My legs were jello. I fell back into the sweaty quilts and his strong, druglike odor. I lay on my back even as the cold air crept over my cooling skin, sinking in and out of consciousness, drifting somewhere above the potent stench and sticky sheets of our fucking, a ghost newly born into a strange and dangerous afterlife.