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"Ah, ah, ah...!"

The sheets were damp beneath Michael’s body, sticking to his skin. His hair hung over his brow, plastered to his forehead. He could hear himself panting, heavy and fast, hysterical in his unwilling pleasure. He had come here, subjected himself to this, so he supposed at least part of him was willing. This was a punishment he just couldn’t quit.

"Ah, ah- wait, wait," His wrists ached, fingers tingling from the numbness of pressure. His hands were being held down. He couldn’t escape.

"I changed my mind, please stop...!"

He felt so hot. His skin was on fire, his heart sprinting. The burning mixture of fear and arousal choked him, made him voiceless and dazed, eyes unfocussed. The helplessness of these nights, the thrilling force with which he was dominated, it was an addiction. Every weekend he snuck out, sick with desire and terror as he made his way towards his neighbour’s house. The man, Mr Davis, would greet him at the back door. Pull him inside quickly. Kiss the boy hard, only once the door was closed.

They both knew this wasn’t allowed.

Mr Davis was heavy on top of him, the bulk of his body weight crushing Michael into the mattress, trapping him in place. The much younger man gasped and whimpered into the pillow, eyes squeezed shut. Mr Davis didn’t speak to him much, when they did this. Beforehand there would be some small talk, some friendly conversation about work or school. But Michael knew why the man wanted him, knew what was expected of him if he dared darken that doorstep.

This wasn’t love.

Michael’s mouth fell open, eyebrows drawing together in a desperate frown. He could feel Mr Davis’ cock sliding in and out of him, so fast and so forceful. His breasts jiggled with every thrust. The man had ripped off his binder, despite knowing how much Michael hated being shirtless. Whenever Michael tried to cover his chest, wrapping his arms around himself, the man would seize his wrists and pin him to the mattress.

“We shouldn’t be doing th- this,” he whispered, “I- My parents, they- ah, ah, I think they know I’m seeing s- someone-”

Mr Davis kept fucking him. Michael’s head lolled from the force of the man’s thrusts, his moans punctuated by strangled gasps as he was shoved back and forth. It was intoxicating and frightening, the way that Mr Davis treated him. The man didn't give a damn about his needs.

"Sl- Slow down, please-"

He kept coming back. He kept submitting to this.

The first time, Mr Davis had been visiting Michael’s father’s barbecue. Michael had been in the kitchen alone, washing the dishes. Davis had approached him from behind.

“I hear you’re twenty-one tomorrow,” he’d began. The first words he had ever spoken to Michael. The boy, shocked at being so directly addressed, had nodded sheepishly, turning away from the sink. He’d always lusted after the stranger during his adolescence, staring wistfully at the fit retiree as he watered his lawn. And Mr Davis had noticed. That fateful day in the kitchen, he had stepped closer, slipping his hand between Michael’s legs. Fingers curling up against the folds of the boy’s denim shorts, seeking the secret beneath. The boy had gasped, cheeks flushing, knees automatically closing.

"Sir, please don't touch-"

“Come visit my house,” Davis had suggested, voice deadpan and heavy with intent, “We’ll celebrate.”

"I can't, I'm-"

"Why not?"

"I'm having dinner with my parents."

"Come afterwards." There was no room for disagreement in the man's tone. "You don't want to be the only virgin among your friends, right?"

Trembling, Michael had stared at the man, silence stretching on. Too naive to realise that his neighbour was a bad, bad man. Finally, he had nodded. Mr Davis had removed his hand, stepped smoothly away.

From then onwards, they’d been doing this.

Laying facedown, being fucked by a man over twice his age, Michael thought back to that day. He was twenty-two now, and still so young, so innocent in so many ways. He hadn’t moved out of his parent’s house, he didn’t drink alcohol, and he didn’t curse. Despite everything Mr Davis did to him, everything he submitted to against his better judgement, he still felt so small, so innocent in the face of such intimate aggression. This was so wrong, and he knew he shouldn't want it.

"Stop, stop...!"

He loved it as passionately as he was scared by it.


It dominated his whole world.

The windows were shut tight, the curtains drawn. Mr Davis was hunched over him, grinding his hips forward and back, pushing so deep inside Michael’s cunt. Boiling, swirling sensations of overwhelmed arousal built up inside him. He couldn’t think over the sounds he was making, the high-pitched wails. His clit rubbed against the sheets, his body rocked in place.

“W- Wait, wait,” he tried to say, words hitched and interrupted by the man’s thrusts, “Wait, my parents, uhn, they- We shouldn’t be doing this-”

"Shut up."

The boy groaned when the man swivelled his waist, the curve of a girthy cock reaching so deep inside that he quaked with it, trying not to cum. He was lightheaded, unable to think. He flailed on the bed, mattress creaking, trying to wriggle free, but was pinned in place once more.

"Fuck, I love your tits."

"Don't say that," Michael pleaded, desperation breaking apart his words, "Don't use that word, please, please..."

Uncaring, the man groped at his chest, his thrusts uninterrupted.

“No, this- Ah, ah- This is wrong…”

Michael's voice trailed of, resolve fracturing, as it always did. The man laid heavy against his back, humming in perverse enjoyment of his conquering of such a pretty young thing. His little boy.


As Michael whimpered and panted, he knew that his lover would never stop, would never let him go. The only way to escape was to not come here. Yet he returned. Every week. He let himself be violated, and he begged for it to end. Then he went home, wobbly on his feet, shaky in ways he couldn’t explain, aching deep inside. He would think about confiding in his parents, telling them that Mr Davis down the road had been fucking him since he was legal. He would decide that he couldn’t stand the humiliation, and he would think about how sinfully good it felt, to be touched like that, to be taken like that.

He said no, and was ignored. He knew what that meant, now. He knew what it meant to be preyed on. Coerced.

Yet he would return.

Again, and again, and again.

“Stop, this is- isn’t right, please."

"What's so bad about this, kid? You're getting wet, you like it."

"I... But I don't, please just..." Michael felt like crying. "Just stop..."

"You don't really want me to stop. You never do. You throw a tantrum every single time, but you always come back. For this." The man slammed deep inside him and swivelled his hips, pressing as deep as Michael's body could take him. "Your little boy pussy needs a real man's cock."


"Could a boy's cock ever compare to this, huh? This is why you need a grown man's dick inside you. Filling you up. You know you want it."

"Please, stop, stop..."

"Take it, you greedy brat." The man pinched a nipple between his thumb and forefinger, making Michael stiffen. He knew that would get a reaction. "You should be grateful that I want you."

"Ah, ah, ah! Stop it!"

"Why should I?"

"I changed my mind, it's too- it's too much...!"

To his surprise, Michael felt Mr Davis’ cock pull out; the long, wet slide of a solid object being removed from his cunt. He shuddered at the sensation, wondering whether the sex was actually stopping. If he was being shown mercy. He lay there, breathing hard, body sticky with sweat and his own slickness, cheek smushed against the pillow.

Then he heard something which made him freeze in terror.

He heard the sudden, elastic-sounding snap of a condom being pulled off. A wet tap as it was thrown into the wastebin in the corner of the room. Heart pounding now, fear pulsing through his veins like liquid fire, Michael pushed up off the bed.

“What are you-”

A palm landed squarely between his shoulder blades, pushing him down again. He drew breath to protest, to insist that Mr Davis had to wear a condom, but he was suddenly being pressed into the mattress, a hand slapped over his mouth.

“Mmm! Mmm! Mmmmfh!” He yelled into the man’s palm, struggling. Mr Davis took the base of his cock in hand, lined up with the entrance of Michael’s cunt.

"Stay still."

“Mmm- Mmmmm! Mmmm! Mmmmm!”

Michael screamed, protests silenced, as he was penetrated once more. This time, the sensation was wetter, a man’s cum painting his insides, their fluids mixing. He continued to wail and struggle, but Mr Davis hugged him suffocatingly tight, pinning his arms, keeping him trapped. He started to thrust furiously fast and hard, huffing into the boy’s ear.

“I got you now, kiddo,” the man breathed, perverse enjoyment dripping from his excited tone, “Gonna get you pregnant, gonna cum inside that hole.”

“Mmmm! Mmmnnn!”

“Know you want it. Know you’ve always wanted it." The man groped his breasts, felt them bounce. "You’re not going anywhere.”

“Mmm! Mmmm!”

Michael shook his head furiously, and managed to twist free from the man’s grip on his face.

“Help! Help me! He- Mmmm!”

He was silenced once more. Mr Davis fucked him harder, balls slapping against him. Tears were blooming in Michael’s eyes, and his head was swimming. He cried, but couldn’t resist the sensations of enjoyment, the same masochistic thrill that had called to him so many times before. The man groaned in his ear, and even though he didn’t want this, Michael’s whimpers were only partly due to distress.

“Yeah, yeah, yeah,” the man hissed, more verbal than he’d ever been before, “This is what you always wanted, you whore, you little slut. Gonna put it all up inside you. Gonna cum. Gonna cum. Yeah, yeah, fuck. Gonna fill your little pussy. Put a baby in your belly.”

Michael could tell the man was close now. He wanted to fight, to struggle and kick and scream, but he didn’t. He went limp. All the fight disappeared from his body, and he lay there with glassy eyes as the man raped him.

“Fuck, yeah, fuck, fuck! You want this, you want this, say that you want it. Say it!”

Michael’s mouth was freed, and he lay there, broken, for a few moments, exhalations forced from his lips as he was fucked so violently.

“Say it!”

“I…” Michael began, whispering, “I, uh, uh, I want it, unh…”

“Yeah, you do, say it, say you want it inside you.”

“I want it… inside me… Ah, p- please, cum… cum inside…”

Mr Davis grunted, slamming forward one last time. Michael, to his horror, felt the sweeping crescendo of his body rising and then tumbling to its completion, his orgasm crashing through him at the same time Mr Davis filled him with hot, thick seed.

He spasmed, jerking in place. His moan was unmistakable and wailing.

"Did you just cum?"

The question was breathless, and dripping with cruel satisfaction. Michael nodded, cunt clenching around the older man's penis.

"Should've raped you like this way earlier. Apparently you get off on it. Well," Davis leaned down and whispered in Michael's ear, "I'll keep that in mind for the future."

Michael shivered. The implication wasn't lost on him, even as he trembled, dazed from all that had just happened.