Good Boy

I begrudgingly dragged myself to my apartment building, my eyes feeling heavy and my stomach feeling queasy. You could say I knew something bad was about to happen the day I got my dream job. I might’ve known somewhere in my gut that I shouldn’t have rescheduled to do my last interview today. But I did.

I only felt tired for a few seconds. Maybe it was the excitement dying down in me. But it was too sudden. Am I sick? Why am I so tired?

Then, it hit me. The man that bumped into me. I had to find him. Where did he go? Which way was he? It was the only thought on my mind at the moment. Not that I needed to find a way to get the drug out of my system but that I had to find him. It played on repeat; Find. That. Man.

I wasn't thinking about my family at that time. I wasn't thinking about my fiance. Soon, they would be all that was on my mind. I would only be worried what they would think about my disappearance. For now, that wasn't my concern.

The adrenaline from my unfailing fight-or-flight instinct coursed through my veins. It helped me stay up just a bit longer. I took a few steps and then I was frozen, starting to feel myself sway. Within seconds, my eyes were totally closed. After that, total darkness consumed me.

I woke up with pale light bleeding through a black blindfold. It matched the darkness of my hair. I felt the cold metal of chains around my wrists and ankles. A few tugs I didn’t think I would make revealed that I was attached to something. The soft, firm surface below told me it was the bottom of a lifted seat.

As I suspected, there was someone watching "You’re up. Thought you died on me." A deep, unfamiliar voice of a middle-aged man rang in my ears, burning holes in my heart and boiling my blood. I tried to scream that I would escape and kill him, but the newly-found gag turned my voice into pitiful mumbles.

“Tough guy, huh? Just how I like ’em.” I heard him scoff with anticipation.

Still trying to get out and scream at him, he drove off. I could feel the smoothness of a dirt road. It was hard to tell, but there were maybe six or seven turns. It took about 20 minutes before we stopped. I knew right now there was nothing I could do, but I also knew just how much it would help when I escaped.

The moment we got to the house, I could hear the jingle of keys as the pressure around my ankles depressed. I instantly started kicking at him, but he grabbed my legs just as fast. “You’re not going anywhere. I’ve done this too long to screw up now.”

As I heard him come around to unlock my wrists, I fought to grab hold of the door. Again, I was unsuccessful. He cuffed my hands under my feet and dragged me in by my hair.

It didn’t take long to get in. The air around me smelt clean, but also forest-y. It reminded me of canyon winds. I could feel it turn my hot tears of pain and determination ice cold.

Inside, the space felt widely open. Crying made me feel less exposed, but this made me feel vulnerable. I knew he was dragging me to Hell. The tears fell faster the closer I got to my cell.

Being dragged down stairs by my short hair was nothing compared to the torture I was about to endure. I knew these were the stairs to where I would be held, but that was all I knew. The space smelled like dirt and a public bathroom. I say that specifically because we all know they have more than our daily excretions.

He threw me onto a mattress. When he lifted my hands above my head, I thought I could move them freely, but they were latched to a spinning circle stuck in the wall. I didn’t yet know that, but I was seconds from figuring it out.

I heard him slowly crawl onto the bed, trying to seductively pull my gag down “There we go. What do you say?” He taunted.

“Go to Hell, you bastard.” I answered, spitting in his face. I could hear him laugh lightly. He pulled himself on top of me, keeping me pinned down. His breath was hot against my lips and the half-dried tears on my cheeks.

“I told you this would be fun.” He reminded me, sliding his hand down to my waistline. I tensed up, trying to use my legs to throw him off. He was too heavy and it only turned him on more to see me fight so hard. “So feisty. Now I just want to take that blindfold of yours off so you can look me in the eyes while I...” He breathed heavily, moving his lips against my ear “let’s just call it... taming.” I could feel his lips thin as he smiled, a small chuckle warming my ear.

“You’re sick.” I tugged at my arms, unable to get them free.

“Maybe. But that doesn’t help you get out.” And that was when I felt his hands pull off my pants, running his hand over my shaft.

I tried to kick him in the back, but I couldn’t get my legs high enough. "This is against the law!"

He punched my chest, nearly knocking all the air out of me “You’re not complaining down there.” He reasoned. I looked at the progressing erection. That wasn’t because I liked it. But I was starting to learn I can’t do anything about this.

As much I wanted to pull away and bite his lip, I was having second thoughts about fighting back when he kissed me. I didn’t know what would happen. Out of sheer instinct, I bit his tongue when he inserted it into my mouth. That was going too far. It ended up being the wrong move. He slapped me so hard I felt a cut open on my lip when I bit it while closing my mouth.

“If you keep doing this, you know things won’t end well for you.” My lip trembled weakly and I nodded my head submissively. “Good. Be a good boy and maybe I won’t hurt you.”

I felt his warm mouth trail down my body, the shirt I was wearing now pulled behind my head. He got down to my penis and started kissing it. I shivered, cold and disgust mixing with my growing fear. I wanted to kick and scream, but at the same time I didn't want to get hit again. I'm not sure which would be better; torture or rape. For now, I was picking this. But for how much longer?

He licked my dick, getting closer and closer to putting it between his lips. Oddly, it did feel good but I still didn't want him touching me. Once he finally put in his mouth, he started massaging my sacs just below. I bit my lip, fighting back the urge to give him satisfaction. The only person I wanted to pleasure me was my fiance.

After he had his fun with me, getting my confused body part to stand rock hard, he decided to have me return the favor. I felt the tip of his own erection pressed against my mouth. Despite my barrier of teeth, he got me to let down the defenses. He slapped my sensitive, wet boner and I wailed, giving him leeway.

He did all the work, but I was the one who was feeling tired. The unusual circumstances made me choke and gag. I tried to open my mouth widely, but I had to keep them closed to keep myself from vomiting on the only clothes I would get. He grabbed my hair roughly and started to make me participate in my own rape. Closing my eyes tightly, I could feel more tears layer over my old ones.

Finally, he let me breathe. I gasped for air, coughing loudly. He went straight from my mouth to my tighter, less defended hole "Please stop." I begged weakly. He lifted me up by my jaw, the salty taste of his flesh covering my teeth. My shoulders ached from being held up with them bound to the wall.

"I don't stop until I'm good and ready. You don't get to decide when and you don't want to because you're my good boy, right?" He scolded, forcing me to nod my head. "Good." He threw my head against the wall, putting my legs over his as he inserted himself inside me.

I didn't think it would ever feel good. At first, it was the worst pain ever, then it wasn't as bad. My screams were of pain, anguish and oddly erotic pleasure. As much as I wanted him to stop, I forced myself to enjoy it, knowing that was the best way to cope.

When he took himself out, I thought he was done. Instead, he was turning me over "Head down, slut." He said, pressing my head to the mattress. Defeated, I became compliant. He started pounding into me. I could hear his skin meet mine.

He was still going when I started getting sore. It no longer felt good at all "I don't want to do this anymore. Please, let me go." I pleaded.

He pushed me against the wall. I could hear him grab something next to us. My skin was crawling and then it was being sliced. I groaned in pain. "Take this as a warning. The next time you disobey will be worse." He threatened, going directly back to thrusting into me. His hands were now on my shoulders while I stayed against the cold wall. I felt like I was being split in two, my cheeks completely stained in tears.

Being as close as he was, he could now hear me crying. Once he was finally done, he wiped my cheeks and grabbed something else from the table next to us. He pulled me onto my stomach with my legs now bound to another piece stuck in the wall. With my whole body exposed, I was on high alert. The leathery strips that trailed up and down my back were the only thing on my mind. "This is what you get when you cry and disobey." He yelled, whipping me rough and carelessly.

Despite how loud I would wail, he continued to lash me. My back was turning raw and red from the burning pain that came from his mercilessness. I tried to get away, but that was why he locked my legs up. There was only one place I could stay until he decided to be done with me.