Conquered

All characters are 18 or older. This story contains depictions of non-consensual sex. Reader discretion is advised.

I walked back to Krell's car, all the color drained from my face, terrified by the latest twist in this saga that now had me in way over my head.

"What the hell's the matter with you?" Krell asked.

"Something terrible has happened," I said.

"What? You got anal warts?" Krell asked mockingly.

"This is serious, Krell," I chastised him.

"Oh no. Something serious?" he asked, feigning sympathy. "What is it? You have a prolapsed rectum from taking half the dicks in the men's homeless shelter?"

"Why do you hate me so much? I've never done anything to you. In fact, you would still be a virgin if it weren't for me," I reminded him. "You just got railed by a straight jock because of me."

"You act like you did that for selfless reasons," he replied, dramatically rolling his eyes. "The only reason you arranged for Craig to fuck me was because I threatened to spill the beans about how you raped my dad."

"I did not rape him! He had a choice."

"A choice? Is that what you call it when you hire a guy to pull a gun on him and threaten to shoot if he refuses to fuck you? Face it, dipshit. You're a scumbag, and you deserve whatever happens to you."

"Fine, Krell. You don't have to like me. But your dad could face some consequences, too. I need you to take me to your house. It's important that I talk to your dad right now."

"Are you sure you want that? He's gonna ask how we know each other and then he's gonna find out you were sending him pervy text messages last night and that I know what you did to him. By all means, come over. My dad will want nothing to do with you when he realizes you've roped me into this," Krell said, grinning evilly as he dramatically twisted the knife with each word.

Fuck, he's right. I really need to talk to Grayson right now. But if Krell brings me home with him, Grayson's gonna hate me for telling Krell about us. Why does this all have to be so fucking complicated?!

I sighed. "I don't know what to do. I just don't know what to do." I replied, shaking my head. "Remember I told you that Buddy made me spit your dad's sperm into a mug? Well, I know it was wrong but I... I kept the mug with your dad's sperm in the office freezer."

"Why the fuck did you do that?" Krell asked.

Oh, please bitch. Like you don't know.

"I just wanted to save it for later. In case..."

"So that's why you had me bring you here?" Krell asked. "So you could take it and bring it home with you? And keep my dad's sperm in your fridge like it's fucking coffee creamer or something? I won't let you. You're pouring it out right now, you fucking pervert. You are SO disgusting. Just when I think you can't sink any lower, you surprise me. Dump it out right now, you sick freak!"

"I can't, Krell! If you'd just let me speak for one Goddamn second..."

"Don't take the Lord's name in vain, Nathaniel. You're already going to hell as it is. You don't have to add blasphemy to your sins."

Krell was seriously the last person I needed a religious lecture from after the way I'd just seen him carry on with Craig.

"Fine! Can I fucking speak now? Look, when I went to the freezer, it was gone. All that was left was this note," I said, taking the note out of my pocket and handing it to Krell.

"'You're an idiot to leave evidence lying around, Nathaniel,'" Krell read.

"The only two people who could have written this note were your dad or Buddy."

"That's not my dad's handwriting," Krell confirmed.

"I didn't think so. That means it must have been Buddy. He confiscated your dad's frozen sperm and left this note in its place. I need to talk to your dad and warn him. I'd hoped that once l paid Buddy, that he'd leave us alone. Unfortunately, it seems like that isn't the case. Krell, Buddy could be extremely dangerous. He has a drug problem and a serious grudge against your dad. He could show up at your house and do something terrible."

"My dad doesn't need your help. Not for this. Not for anything. I'm driving you home now, Nathaniel. My dad is probably outside doing yard work. I'm going to put his phone back on the end table of the living room where he left it last night. You can text him and he'll get the message when he's done. Then he can decide for himself how he wants to handle you and your constant,

exhausting

drama. Frankly, I think he should just delete your number and pretend he doesn't know you, but that's for him to decide."

But Buddy might have published the video of Grayson fucking me by then! Wait, I can't say that. Krell doesn't know about the video. And he knows too much as it is.

"I don't really want to be alone right now. Buddy wants revenge against me and your dad, I just know it. Can you at least drive me back to Craig's if you're not going to drive me to your house?"

"Craig is

my

boyfriend now, Nathaniel. Do you think I'm dumb enough to leave you alone with him so you can make a move on

my man

? Listen, bitch. I am

not

going to give you a chance to hire some homeless drug addict to force

my man

to fuck that tired, worn out, disease-ridden hole of yours," Krell responded.

His performance of that line was particularly dramatic. Why does this stupid bitch act like he's on camera 24/7?

There were a lot of very unkind things I wanted to say to Krell, so I paused before I responded.

"Krell. Be serious, dude. I am not trying to steal Craig from you. You know I don't like Craig like that. I'm just afraid to go home. Buddy could be waiting there for me. He threatened to rape me yesterday, Krell. More than once. He was crazy, or he was high on something. I'm scared he's going to do it."

"That sounds like a problem for you, not like a problem for me," Krell said, grinning. And there it was. He didn't actually worry that I wanted to steal Craig from him. He just disliked me enough to want to see bad things happen to me. What I could never figure out was what exactly I ever did to earn his hatred.

"Krell, please. Have some fucking compassion. How would you like to get raped?" I asked.

"Nathaniel, listening to you talk is literally excruciating. Unlike you, I don't go around forcing everyone else to play a part in my soap opera. Maybe if Buddy rapes you, that will teach you a lesson. A lesson you sorely, sorely need to learn, honey. You can't go around town flashing your loose, aging hole to every man you see. You're about to learn the consequences. Good and hard. I think it'll be good for you Nathaniel."

"God, you are fucking spiteful. You dislike me that much that you're willing to have me getting raped on your conscience?"

"If you get raped, it's your own damn fault for making a deal with Buddy in the first place. It's karma for what you put my dad through. Yeah, that's it. Karma. Perfect fucking karma. Let's see how you like it when somebody forces sex on you at gunpoint. Now get the fuck out of my car. I just decided, you're going to walk home, cunt."

Krell smiled and winked at me. I couldn't believe the cruelty. I couldn't believe the malice.

So I got out of Krell's car. "Go to hell," I said, flipping him off as I started walking back to my apartment. Frankly, I needed some time to think anyway. It hadn't even been 24 hours since Buddy had held Grayson and me at gunpoint, and already the situation had spun rapidly out of control, fucked up far beyond what I ever could have imagined.

Poor Grayson. If that video gets out, or if Buddy does something with his sperm, it's going to ruin his life. This is all my fault. If only I'd never come up with this whole stupid plan. If only I'd dumped out Grayson's sperm instead of trying to save it as a souvenir. But wait, this is so weird. What the fuck does Buddy want with Grayson's sperm anyway?

I just knew something awful was going to happen, and Grayson would hate me for it and never speak to me again.

I was so terrified by the time I finally arrived at my apartment. I thought when I opened the door that Buddy would be inside waiting for me. Then I was sure he'd be hiding in the shower when I went to the bathroom, or in my closet when I walked into the bedroom. I was so paranoid that I actually spent about an hour checking every nook and cranny of my apartment for Buddy. I just knew that any minute he was going to jump out from somewhere and have his way with me.

Finally, I locked my doors and windows, confident that Buddy was not in my apartment and wouldn't be able to get in. I was exhausted. I'd barely slept as I had spent the prior night going over and over in my mind how it had felt to be fucked by Grayson, and fantasizing about our future together. Then Krell had woken me up bright and early and somehow I'd ended up spending the morning watching him and Craig fuck.

I fell asleep pretty much the second my body hit my mattress, and I slept most of the day away. The hours passed me by and nothing could disturb my slumber. It felt like everything that had happened -- from all of Friday afternoon's work meetings, to Buddy forcing me and Grayson to fuck Friday night, to Craig and Krell fucking Saturday morning -- had been one long day. Now that I was home, it was nice to finally have a little break, and I took full advantage of having some peace and quiet. I was really tired and I must have slept about eight hours or so.

I don't remember if I had any dreams. It was a deep slumber, and by the time I woke up it was about 3:00 in the afternoon. I felt perfectly rested. I rolled over and looked at the ceiling for a moment and let out a sigh.

I closed my eyes and replayed in my mind the events of the previous day.

I had really been fucked by Grayson, and it had felt amazing. I just wanted a moment to bask in that. And so I did. In my imagination, I pictured him, felt him, heard him, smelled him. I knew Grayson so intimately now. It was arousing to think that from that point forward, whenever I saw Grayson, I'd be able to conjure up that vision, and I'd also be able to conjure up the feeling of how I felt when he fucked me. Like the grooves in a vinyl record, Grayson's dick had left a permanent impression.

I gotta be realistic with myself. That's probably the only fuck I'll ever get from him, so I better treasure the memory.

I inhaled deeply and exhaled peacefully. My dick was hard. Even though a part of me knew the other shoe was going to drop at some point, I was happy.

I got fucked by Grayson. I actually got fucked by Grayson. I can close my eyes whenever I want to and picture Grayson fucking me. I can't believe it. I'm so lucky. The most perfect man in the world gave me the fuck of a lifetime.

I smiled. Nothing was nagging me. I just had this blissful feeling inside.

It's wrong to wish for more. The fuck Grayson gave me was far beyond what I ever dreamed of. It's enough. It needs to be.

Unlike earlier when I'd been on edge about Buddy, I felt completely at peace. Wanting to take advantage of the moment and extend my ecstatic feeling, I stripped and opened the faucet of my tub to draw a warm bath. Grayson's dick had been a luxury that I'd treated myself to. Now I was going to treat myself to another.

I need to tell him about the sperm. He needs to protect himself. Fuck, Buddy could put it on some woman's clothes and it'd be like Monica Lewinsky's blue dress. It could ruin his reputation. I know it's an awkward subject to broach, but I have to tell him.

I didn't want to have this conversation with Grayson, but I owed it to him to be honest. It would be embarrassing confessing to him that this latest crisis had been caused by my desire to preserve his sperm so I could drink it later. But he had a right to know.

As I waited for the tub to fill, I dialed Grayson's number on my phone. Half of me wanted him to answer. The other half of me wanted to get his voicemail.

"Hello?"

Hearing his voice was so satisfying, it actually made my dick throb.

"Grayson. It's Nathaniel."

"Hey Nathaniel. How are you?" Grayson asked. Grayson seemed perfectly pleasant, as if our whole dalliance had never even occurred. There wasn't even a hint of bother in his voice. He was always so calm, so completely and effortlessly in control.

Suddenly, I remembered the reason I was calling and my bliss ended. I needed to confess to Grayson that, because of me, someone-- likely Buddy -- now possessed his sperm and was planning on doing something with it. But I chickened out. I couldn't tell him over the phone.

"Um, I'm not great, Grayson. Something bad has happened, and I want you to come over." I felt like such an asshole saying these words. I was talking to Grayson as though he owed me something. I hated it.

"Sorry, Nathaniel. I can be over there tonight around 6:00. And whatever it is, we can work through it. Is that OK?" Fuck. Why did he have to be so damn nice? I felt like such an asshole.

"Yes, that should be fine, Grayson," I said. I eyed the clock. It was still only 4:00 PM.

"Great. I'll see you tonight, Nathaniel. Take care," he said. He was so good. So much better than me. After everything I'd done, he was willing to drop everything on a Saturday night to come help me with a problem. Grayson was such a saint.

He's not going to be mad at me. It'll be awkward for a minute, and then it will be fine. It's Grayson. He can handle anything. He's Mr. Confidence.

I got in the bathtub and immediately began to unwind. After a stressful couple of days, I finally let myself escape from the world. This bathtub was my little piece of paradise where nothing could disturb me.

Unfortunately for me, Buddy walked into the bathroom almost immediately after I'd gotten comfortable.

"Hello, Nathaniel," he said.

"Buddy. I knew you were here. What do you want?" I was scared. I was helpless. I was naked in my bathtub. Buddy possessed that sort of "thug aggression" that certain guys just naturally embody. There was just a dangerous aura about him, something genuinely terrifying about the dude. Whatever the most base form of masculinity is, Buddy had it in spades.

Buddy flashed his pearly white smile at me. "I've been watching the video of you and Daddy Warbucks fucking on repeat for most of the past day. I've practically memorized the way your butt hole looks, Nathaniel. It really is cute. Do you know you must have the most adorable little butt hole on the west coast?"

I'm ashamed to say it, but Buddy giving such effusive praise to my hole made my dick hard. Which, of course, he had a perfect view of. Buddy was stronger than me and he seemed determined to do me harm. And he had a gun with him. Whatever he said, I had to do. I had a sinking feeling in my stomach. I was probably about to get raped, and there was absolutely nothing I could do to stop it.

In my mind, I started negotiating, begging, and praying to God to do something to stop Buddy. But after about a minute, something curious happened. My mind seemed to accept that it was a foregone conclusion. I stopped panicking, and, instead, started thinking that if it happened, it wouldn't be the end of the world. It occurred to me in that moment just how unbelievably amazing the human spirit is. Our minds can shift so quickly to protect us from our own fears and get us through the unthinkable. It was something akin to the stages of grief; some kind of power within me had recognized the urgency and hopelessness of the situation, and accelerated the stages to get me to acceptance super quickly.

I can bear it. In fact, I should cooperate. The faster he gets this over with, the sooner he leaves, and I need him to be gone before Grayson shows up. I can live with him raping me. I can't live with him harming Grayson and knowing it was my fault.

"Can I wash your butthole for you, Nathaniel? Will you let me do that?" Buddy grabbed the soap and grinned. I didn't resist as he took the bar of soap and reached in between my legs in the tub.

"Lift your legs, and spread them," Buddy gently commanded.

This is it. This is actually happening. He's gonna rape me. Maybe it won't be so bad. Maybe I'll even like it.

I complied. As I was lifting my legs up to show Buddy my hole, I caught a look in Buddy's eye that was pure feral rage and energy. There was this intensity to him I couldn't describe. My dick throbbed.

Buddy noticed this and grinned.

Just hang on. Just bear it. Just let him do what he came here to do. After he gets his rocks off he'll get bored and leave and I can just go on like it never happened. I just have to get through the bad part and it'll all be over soon.

Buddy's hand reached under my balls, and he found my buttocks. He licked his lips insatiably. And then he actually put the bar of soap up between the cheeks of my butt. It felt weird, but it's not like it hurt. He just kind of rubbed the bar soap up and down my asshole, lathering it up as he went. He kept making grunts of approval as he did so. I hated myself for it, but I was so turned on.

I hate myself. I'm everything Krell said I was. God, that feels good.

"Wow. That is so nice. But I need a better view. Turn around, and get on your knees in the water so your hole is exposed to me."

So I complied. And after I did, he cuffed me in kind of an awkward position. Handcuffs now chained each of my arms to pipes attached to the wall behind the tub. My hands held on to the edge of the tub to support myself, and my knees were on the floor of the bathtub. I could move my arms and legs a little even though each arm was cuffed to a pipe in the wall.

Then he drained some of the water, I guess so my butt was above water.

"Nice," he said, and he inserted the bar soap back between my buttcheeks. "Really, really nice, Nathaniel. It feels so soft between your buttcheeks. I feel you welcoming my hand. Parting your cheeks involuntarily. Like you know you were born to submit."

And as he got too excited, he started actually trying to force the bar soap into my asshole. Deep into my asshole. It was getting a little bit uncomfortable.

"Buddy, that's starting to hurt," I finally said.

"Sorry," he apologized, pulling the bar soap out. "I'll just use my hand now to wash between your buttcheeks. Is that ok?"

I opened my mouth to answer, but didn't know exactly what to say. "Um, OK," I finally said.

"Great," Buddy replied. So now, he used the bar soap to lather up his hand, and this time he put his soapy hand inside of my butt hole and started washing it.

My eyes were open wide, my dick was still hard. My body seemed to have a reflex reaction to a man's strong hand between my asscheeks; it accommodated him, urging him in deeper.

What he was doing physically felt good, but I was also scared.

"So when you're going out on a Saturday night, and you know you're probably going to bring a guy home, how long do you spend washing back here, Nathaniel?" Buddy asked.

I blushed. I'd never discussed this with anyone before.

"Usually a good 10 to 20 minutes," I said. This was so humiliating.

"And do you just use bar soap? Do you douche? Use enemas? Anything else?"

"I have before," I confessed. "But usually just bar soap."

"And what about shaving and waxing?" Buddy asked, still massaging my hole with his soapy hand.

"I have before, but usually I don't," I said. "I'm lucky that I'm just naturally not hairy down there. Just a little peach fuzz."

"Yes, I think that's what I liked about it. Because it wasn't exactly a female's soft butt and hairless hole. But it also wasn't a man's gross, smelly, hairy hole either. Your hole is... well, it's unique. There was something about your hole that's... heck, I don't know exactly how to describe your hole. Not feminine, not masculine, but maybe... charming? Civilized? Dignified? And clean. So clean. My God, you keep your hole clean. I could just tell that you'd spent a lot of time thinking about presenting it. Making it perfect for the man you desire. Don't you, sweetie?"