Editor's note: this fictional work contains scenes of violence, fictional mind control, rough, reluctant, dubiously consensual, consensually non-consensual (CNC), or non-consensual sex or scenarios.
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"I don't think we should do this anymore," I finally said out loud.
I kept my face turned to the passenger window, away from Jason. My bloodshot eyes followed the orange street lights as he drove us through the rain. They whipped by at a steady pace, like a clock, and it was hypnotic. Normally, I'd be zoned out, enjoying being stoned from the joint we were sharing, but the dread gripping my chest kept me in the moment.
The windows were cracked to let out the smoke. The wind and rain mixed with the music to make a sort of white noise. It was nice. Did he even hear me? Maybe this wasn't the right time to say what I just said. But we only saw each other at work or my apartment, to hook up, so I didn't have many options. I didn't want him in my apartment when I told him this because I was afraid of what he'd do. I just wanted out of that weird, scary, violent non-relationship as quickly as possible.
Jason was my boss. A 37-year old man with a good job, a mortgage, a beautiful wife, and two kids. A happy little life. The photo of his family on his desk flashed through my mind. The source of my guilt, jealousy, and shame. That's why I didn't want to do it anymore. And his drinking problem had been out of control.
I didn't find out about his drinking problem until a couple months into our hooking up. It was the worst night of my life...
...
I was home, still slightly wet from the shower, folding laundry on my bed, when I got a text from Jason.
// Jason: Coming
// Me: Huh? To my place?
It was late Friday night, bleeding into the next morning. I figured he'd be at home with his family. He called me. I picked up.
"Hey Henry, baby-y, yeah I'm comin' over right now, I'm -- about five, ten m-minutes away." He was clearly slurring his words.
Processing. Still stoned from the bong hit earlier. I managed, "You're driving here right now?" I ignored the part about him calling me baby for the first time. We'd only ever sucked and fucked to satisfy our urges. Our relationship at work was professional. He was an obviously straight man and no one questioned it. And there was never any real affection in our sweaty meetups. We'd never even kissed during one.
He said yeah, he was driving.
"You're driving drunk? Don't do that. Just pull over somewhere. I'll pick you up and bring you back here."
"Nah, I'm f-fine, I'm almost there." *burp* "Just have that ass ready, baby, 'cause I have a hard dick for you to take care of."
I felt my body heat up, as I thought about Jason's big cock.
Jason was a beautiful man. A real catch. Six-feet-two or three inches, masculine energy, thick and short black hair, handsome face with an aquiline nose, eternal five o'clock shadow, a muscular but pleasantly soft body, and wow, that cock. It was at least seven-and-a-half inches, and very thick. So thick that I'd never been able to take it up my ass without a LOT of lube and patience. But once it was in, god damn, that fat meat turned me into a bitch in heat. Sex with Jason was the best I'd ever had.
But the fact he was driving drunk threw cold water on my growing boner. A friend of mine was killed in a drunk-driving accident in high school. It wasn't his fault, he was hit by the drunk driver. I still miss him. I still remember the sounds his mom made at the funeral. There wasn't a dry eye. Even the priest wiped some away. I told myself I'd never drink and drive.
I controlled my voice, so there was no hint of arousal. "I'm not horny, but you can sleep it off here. I have to get up at eight for some errands, so we can't hang around all morning. I'll come out when you pull up. Be careful." I hung up before he responded.
I wasn't going to give him my ass after he drove here wasted and could've killed someone. Nah. We'd talk about it in the morning when he sobered up. I'd be nice about it, since he might have a problem. But this was also about him pulling up to my place, late at night, with no notice. That's the kind of shit couples could do -- and we weren't a couple.
I prepared my bedroom by putting the laundry away, and placing a trash can on the side of the bed he'd be sleeping on, in case he threw up. And a towel on the end table. "I swear to god, if this fucker pisses in my bed, I'll kick him in the nuts. I don't care if he fires me," I grumbled to myself. I was in a bad mood.
I heard knocks at the front door. It was only a few minutes since we had gotten the phone. Damn, he must've been driving fast. I unlocked the door and began to pull, and yelped in pain when it swung open and struck me hard in the face. I fell back on the ground and clutched my nose, feeling warm blood gushing out.
Jason emerged from the darkness, wearing the expression of a hungry wolf, eyes boring into me, and stepped through the door. "Did you hang up on me, you fucking faggot?" he asked slowly, in his rumbling voice.
He wasn't slurring his words anymore. His anger had sharpened his focus. I groaned and tried to talk through the blood and tears. "What the fuck?" was all I could get out. He kicked the door shut, slid the locks into place, and bent down to grab me by my shirt.
"I asked if you hung up on me, you fucking faggot," his breath was in my face, filling my lungs with a mix of his musk and whiskey.
I was stunned from the pain, and couldn't think of an answer to his question. I guess I didn't say 'bye' before hanging up, but it's not like we're fucking married, right? When did that become a requirement?
"Wh - I - ow - why did you open the door like that? It fucking hurts!" Was my nose broken? It sure felt so. Blood was still pouring out.
"Not horny, huh?" He was towering over me, sticking his pelvis out, so it was over my bloody face, and began rubbing his already-hard cock through his pants. "Well I am, baby. And the missus is outta town with the brats, so you're all I got."
Adrenaline shot through my veins, as the reality of what was happening sank in. Jason was going to try to rape me. I considered kicking him in the balls right there. I could fight back... but the man is at least twice my mass. I'm lean from regular running and swimming; there's no chance I could out-muscle him. Kicking him would probably just make him even more pissed, and then he'd take it out on me. I knew I just had to run.
I rolled over onto my stomach, pretending it was because of my bleeding nose, while actually using the chance to get on my feet, so I could take off at a sprint. But as soon as I was up off the ground, Jason kicked my lower back with the flat part of his foot, sending me flying down the hallway. I landed on my arm and felt something pull or tear. I groaned. I couldn't believe what was happening.
"Jason! What the fuck are you doing? Please stop," I cried through rapid breaths. I was approaching hyperventilation.
He was over me again. He grabbed my hair in his fist and began walking toward my bedroom. It felt like he was going to rip off my scalp, so I grabbed his wrist to take the pressure off my head. He was dragging me, and when I fought back, he yanked hard on my hair. I screamed and begged him again to stop. I said we could have sex, like normal. He didn't say anything and shoved me into my bedroom.
He kicked me in the ribs to keep me down, and turned to shut the bedroom door. I started crawling quickly toward the bathroom, desperate to get away. He grabbed my legs and jerked me back several times, causing carpet burn on my stomach and chest. He flipped me over on my back, straddled my chest, and began hitting me in the face. Over and over. First, it was slaps; then, he curled his fist and began punching. I caught a couple glimpses of him through the flurry of hands, and his face was contorted with rage. I don't know how many times he hit me. It went black at some point.
When I came to, I was lying face down on my bed, completely naked. I could feel Jason's huge body pressing me into the mattress, his legs and arms pinning me down, and something poking at my asshole. I groaned at the pain all over, revealing that I was awake, and heard Jason laugh. "Don't worry baby, I'm almost in."
I tried to turn over and wiggle out from under him, but his weight was too much, and my right arm didn't seem to work properly. As I kept struggling, he wrapped his arms around my neck in a particular way, trapping me in a headlock. I was in full-blown panic after that. Thrashing around, trying to buck this man who was mounting me. I felt him tighten the headlock and passed out after a few seconds.
I woke up to searing pain in my ass. Jason's fat cock was sawing into me at a slow but deliberate pace. And there was definitely zero lube. I felt everything -- the ridges of his circumcised head, all the veins, and even his heartbeat -- as it ripped me open. I just started screaming. No words, just the sounds of agony. It felt like he was tearing my insides. Jason's hand covered my mouth, as I felt his weight shift, and the end of the towel I'd put by the bed was shoved into my mouth. He wrapped the rest of the towel around my head, so I couldn't see. Now that my crying was muffled, he snaked his arms around me, held me tight, like a lover, with his head resting between my neck and shoulder, and resumed pumping.
He was grunting like a beast. My body began to go into shock. I drifted away and went somewhere. A more comfortable place, where I was distracted from what was happening to me. I floated for a while, there in the warm light. I don't know how long I was like that. But eventually, the signals flooding my brain bubbled up, and drowned me again. I fell down, back into the temple of pain, and became present.
Jason was still going. It must have been a while, because I could feel his body above me drenched in sweat. I tried to speak through the towel in my mouth and wrapped around my head. It was unintelligible.
