Force Makes You Mine

Nothing compares to that first trickle of blood… that first little whimper… I live for that fear, that moment where he realizes there’s no escaping me. I’ve had plenty of them -- I’ve been called a Cherry Hound by my detractors -- but he was the first who truly stirred my blood. His tears were so real, his screams so anguished, his lithe body so tightly contracted. I had his pants down before he knew where he was, and his body language told me that this inexperienced boy was expecting a smooth, sensual lovemaking session. It took very little work to convince him otherwise.

I shoved him onto the bed face first, and he reached out to stop himself halfway. He turned to look at me, perhaps to see my face, to gauge what my intent might be. I slapped him hard across the face, my gloved hand leaving an imprint on his pale jawline. I could see the bruise already darkening as I reached to unbutton my fly. With one quick motion, I pulled the buttons apart, sliding my cock out of my pants.

He struggled against me. I could tell he was sobering up, and had changed his mind. That’s what I loved about him: he didn’t want it. All the others had faked it. They’d wanted it rough and painful from the start, and they’d played straight and hard to get just to feel me inside them. But him… he really was a straight boy, a good boy, the kind of boy who opens car doors for his women and never asks for blow jobs on the first date. And there he was, bent over like a whore, bruised and embarrassed, naked from the waist down. I smirked and pressed my cock into the smooth skin of his ass, pinning him to the bed. I grabbed a cigarette and a pack of matches from my pocket. I lit the cigarette and took a couple of puffs, then blew the smoke toward his face. Without warning I grabbed his hair in my right hand and pulled tightly, and stamped the match out on the small of his back. He screamed… really, truly screamed. It was the sweetest sound I’ve ever heard. He bit his lip almost as soon as it escaped his lips, and he started to lower his head. I pulled back still more tightly on his hair, using my free hand to slide my cock toward his tight entrance.

Whatever drunken stupor he had been in when I had half-dragged, half-led him to the apartment was now completely gone as he realized exactly what his fate was to be. Through the door to the bathroom I could see his face in the mirror: terrified, unsure, desperately not wanting to enjoy himself. I begged whatever gods might still listen to me that he would keep that look -- or better -- on his face until I had finished with him. As I positioned my shaft right where I wanted it, I reached around and roughly grabbed his cock. I pushed deeply inside him and simultaneously began to masturbate him. I shoved my dick inside his ass until I could feel my balls against his trembling flesh, and I felt the warm, sticky stream of blood as I tore his virginity from him.

If I thought he’d screamed before, it was nothing to what he did then. His entire body rocked against me, and I had to choke back a moan as his ass tightened around my cock. His breath hitched in his throat as he screamed like a man dying, and soon his convulsions grew more staccato as he began weeping bitterly, sobbing, with no more thought as to his pride. His only thought, I know, was for self-preservation. Blood lubricated my strokes as I pounded hard into his body… it poured down his thighs in delicious rivulets, and magnified the slaps of my testicles against him. I wondered if he thought I might kill him. For a while there, I thought I might. I closed my eyes as I released my grip on his hair and bit his shoulder blades, drawing blood. I felt him buck, as if he could possibly get away from me. I cursed under my breath and struck him hard on his ass. I could see the outline left by the seam of my glove, imprinted firmly on his beautiful marbled flesh. He started to collapse under my weight and the spanking, so I was forced to regain my hold on his hair. His crying had withered into whispered pleas and childlike sniffles, and I couldn’t take any more. I half-slapped, half-shoved his face into the pillow and grabbed him by his sharp, bony hips, burying my erection in his bleeding ass. I felt my orgasm raging through my body, and I exploded inside him, crying out in spite of myself. His cries began anew as I pulled out of him almost immediately, turning him over on his back. With a flick of my wrist I forced his legs apart, and slapped his cock onto his belly. I barked an order, commanding him to hold his ass open. I smiled to myself, growing hard again at the sight of the fluid flowing from his anus, a mixture of his virginal blood and my semen. So beautiful.

I looked into his eyes, and I saw what I had done. He had wanted affection, and I gave him apathy. He had wanted to be seduced, and I made him a victim. It always makes me smile to see the tears welling up in their eyes, as they try in vain to hold back the torrent of emotions… but he was the one I had truly, completely, wholly broken.