Chapter 1

"You hate this," I tell him, stroking my cock, feeling myself harden further. I spread the pre-come around the head of my cock, rubbing it up and down the teenager's crack. "You hate being so helpless, so weak. But you can't fight it; no one can fight my word. Now spread your ass cheeks. Hold them apart like that." The blond boy obeyed, doing just as I thought before I'd even finished telling him to.

But then, it wasn't as if he could do anything else.

I could see his tear-streaked face in the mirror as well as his fingers, spreading himself open for me. He had very well-kept nails, I noticed. "Blush," I commanded, and he did so. I grinned. "You're getting hard from this, aren't you?" I asked him, knowing already that he was. It was within my power to make him grow hard -- everything was within my power. And this boy was the only one who I had ever desired to fully show myself. I made him feel ashamed, made him hate the position he was in, made him hate me for putting him into such a position. I made him hard. I made him sob and spread himself further, like some obscene meme. I made him know exactly what I was going to do to him, down to the most specific detail of each of his feelings during his ordeal, and I made him dread it, too, before granting him the mercy of forgetfulness.

I positioned myself at his entrance, the wet slick head of my cock pressing right up against his tiny, straining asshole. He twitched, entirely of his own volition. "If you just tell me to stop, Sam, I will," I promised, kissing at the back of his neck as I slid myself in, centimeters at a time. "Just tell me." His eyes took on a steely determination, and for a fraction of a second I felt as if he were honestly attempting to resist my will. He couldn't, of course, and I smiled down at him as I hilted myself in his virgin asshole.

I'd made myself bigger just for his sake, but now my cock grew as thick as a soda can. There was no way the blond could possibly be any tighter, not even if I'd forced him to clench up and try to push me out. Poor Sam. "Can you even imagine how many men are going to violate you, Sam? Do you think you'll ever be as tight again? You're just a loose slut now, free for anyone to use," I said, slowly withdrawing. Sam did his best to tense up, only partially at my bidding. I slammed inside him again, forcing apart his insides, and gave him three more quick thrusts. He was gasping beneath me. His face was pink and wet, and I found myself wanting to lick up his tears. Instead I made him think of wearing a pleated skirt several inches too short, kneeling over on his bed with the skirt up over his naked ass; I made him imagine his father taking off his belt and whipping it against him. Sam jerked underneath me and I laughed. "Do you like that?" I asked him in a whisper, fucking him harder, wrapping my hands around his throat. I squeezed his neck and his asshole squeezed around me, the hot, slick insides rubbing against my cock like oiled velvet. I fucked him harder and faster than his frame should be able to take, I choked him hard enough to leave bruises, and I made him orgasm without ejaculating. I tightened my grip as he strained for breath, enjoying the way his eyes seemed to pop out of his head. Just a little more, I told myself, just a little more and I'd be mostly through with him for tonight.

All I needed to do was force him to maintain consciousness as I rutted with him, shoving inch after inch of myself into his too-small body. I could feel his despair and I let it carry me over the edge, flooding his bowels with my seed. I continued to fuck him as I came, ejaculating load after load of semen into him. His stomach bulged from my deposits, and would have spilled out from his distended asshole when I pulled out if I hadn't been thinking and forced it to stay inside. I created a plug perfect for his ruined little asshole and stuffed it in, robbing him of the ability to remove it until he showered in the morning. When I took my other hand from his neck he gasped, clutching at his throat as he struggled to draw the breath I'd denied him for well over three minutes. It had been an extremely short first encounter, but I made certain he'd be thinking of it all night with tight balls and an erection he couldn't will away. He'd have to handle that on his own. Maybe.

"I'll see you at school tomorrow, Sammie," I promised him as I put him into his bed, pressing my palm down for a moment on his swollen stomach. I was gone before he'd finished his groan.

For the longest time, I simply refused to believe what had just happened to me. But it had happened, and I remained because of the tangible evidence available unable to convince myself that it hadn't. Some boy had walked right into my room and made me strip, get down on my hands and knees in front of my full length mirror, and hold myself open for him to violate. I couldn't fight back during any of it; retaliation had been completely beyond my imagination. Images and scenes were forced into my head, acts of horror I'd never contemplated played out before me as he told me -- in my own mental voice, no less -- that he had been responsible for all of it, that he was like unto a god, and that I was his new plaything. I wanted to wake up from whatever bizarre dream I was having. Believing I was dreaming was the only way I could cope.

My stomach ached, overfilled as it was with the man's come. That, along with the purple bruises on my neck and the large object forced inside my asshole, was enough to convince me I'd experienced the whole damn thing. I'd tried to remove whatever it was he'd shoved up inside me to keep all the come in, but I couldn't even bring myself to touch it, no matter how bloated and stretched it made me feel. I couldn't touch my persistent erection, either, and I couldn't remember ever feeling so hard in my life. For the first time since kindergarten, I cried myself to sleep.

Not that I was able to sleep for long. When I slept I remembered him, remembered what he'd made me feel, and I woke up rubbing against my bed sheets, trying to rid myself of the erection I just knew he'd forced on me. It enraged me that I couldn't even touch my own cock to jerk off. No, I was hard and horny, and forced to think about it, no matter how utterly humiliating the situation was. That was probably the point.