CW: coerced sex/ non-consent, SPH, forced weed use.
PS: Thanks for all the messages. I've been busy but have new stuff in the works and am looking forward to sharing more smut with you all.
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That next morning I woke up in the embrace of this giant. Before I opened my eyes I felt his heavy limbs over mine, his steady warm snoring on my neck, his big belly pushing into me and the tickle of his copious chest hair and pubic bush scraping against my back and ass.
I had never slept next to someone so big before, and while I had shared beds with friends, we had never spooned like this. Maybe an arm over my side, but nothing so intentionally intimate, so purposefully post-coital. His cock still pushed into me, laid between my buttocks, semi-hard with morning wood. Having his mammoth form pressed up against me holding me and locking me in, felt like a stark contrast to the smaller female bodies I had spooned with. Duff's body was huge, hairy and hot to the touch. I tried to gingerly extract myself from under his arms without waking him.
"Coffee." I heard his deep voice grunt as I stood up from the bed. He reached over and squeezed my right butt cheek roughly before I escaped his grasp. I couldn't find my clothes in the mess of his dark bedroom, so I fled before he could grab me again and put his morning wood ot use.
After taking a leak, I cleaned myself up, washing my own dried semen from my midsection. I looked in his bathroom mirror and as I feared last night, hickeys wreathed my shoulders, neck and chest in a bright purple and crimson garland. These were massive bruises too, big and wide. I wondered if a guy seeing them in the locker room, or walking behind me on the street would know that they had been delivered by the large, strong-jawed mouth of a man. Duff had tattooed me as his after all, at least temporarily.
I also bore the bruises of the back-alley beat down. Duff had never punched me directly, declaring me not man enough to receive his fist. Instead he had shamed me with his slaps, open-palmed and back-handed, over and over again. "Bitch slaps," because as he had proven beyond a doubt, I was his bitch and not my own man. At least one such blow had busted my lip, leaving it swollen on the side. All his other body blows had not left a bruise. My testicles still ached, remembering the the devastating kicks and knees he had punished me with for fighting back. I was mostly fine though, physically. As I stepped out of his bathroom, still buck naked and a captive tiptoeing through my enemy's home, I realized that the only real injury Roger Duffman given me was a fatal wound to my pride.
I found some grounds in his kitchen and made a pot of coffee. As it brewed I surveyed the living room for the jeans and underwear he had thrown in the corner last night but had no luck. So still naked, I returned to the bedroom.
"Um, how do you like your coffee?" I asked quietly.
"Boy, you know how to address me properly. You weren't that drunk last night." So it was a rule then. I felt my face blush.
"Sorry, how do you like your coffee, Big Duff?" I asked. He smiled, pleased. When I came back with a cup prepared to his specifications, he took it from my hand while sitting up in bed.
"There's some bacon and eggs and stuff in the fridge. Make me something good." He instructed, not looking up from his phone. As if he was talking to his personal assistant, his underling. He scratched his hirsute belly with his free hand, and I looked to see that his large bush poked up from the edge of the bed sheets.
"I can't, Big Duff, I have-" I struggled to explain that I had to leave. He put his phone down, waved a hand at me dismissively and barked.
"I don't like telling you to do stuff twice. Whatever plans you had are cancelled. You're with me today, all day. Now make us breakfast and tell me when it's ready." He spoke gruffly but smirked at me, entertained by my feeble objections. As if the idea of my leaving his apartment was preposterous, a child's foolish delusion. Naked with my clothes, wallet, phone or keys nowhere in sight, I knew I was in the bigger man's captivity until he chose to release me. I wasn't ready to flee from his home in my birthday suit. Chastened, I turned heel and followed the hall to his kitchen.
I was surprised by the high quality food in the top two rows of his otherwise barren fridge - it looked like he had gone to an upscale market, and as I laid out the ingredients I wondered if this had been his plan all along. Bringing me back to his place with the expectation of me making breakfast for him in the morning. There was something so cocky about that, knowing that he would take me home and have me stay the night.
I actually enjoyed cooking, I cooked for my roommates regularly, and I took my time to prepare quite the spread. I focused on my task, avoiding tackling the strangeness of the fact that I was bare ass naked in the home of a man I considered my most hated enemy, cooking breakfast for him. Nor did I think about the most bizarre wrinkle of all- that I wanted to do a good job, to please him and make him happy.
Duff emerged from his bedroom in a pair of boxers, his hand plunged beneath the waistband, exposing his thick black pubic bush as he scratched himself and yawned. He sat at the kitchen table, turning on sports radio, and watched me finish up, an amused smile on his face. He beamed at the plate I placed in front of him, gratified by my efforts. He pawed the back of my neck when I tried to step away from him and wrenched my head down to his, then planted a kiss squarely on my lips. Duff licked around then forced his tongue in, and like last night I let him have his way with my mouth. Forcing his wetness into my palate, the strong taste of coffee mercifully covering his morning breath. Despite myself I soon found myself swooning as he probed, meeting his tongue with my own, his hand caressing the back of my neck, until he released me. I gasped for breath.
He grumbled at me to make a plate of my own and have a seat, slapping my behind as he sent me off. I did so, giving myself much less food as my nerves were killing my appetite. It felt strange, sitting down to breakfast completely naked. Duff didn't seem troubled by my bare butt cheeks on his chair.
I ate in silence, taking small and dainty bites. Duff wolfed his plate down, clearly enjoying what I made, demanding seconds. He stuck out his coffee cup and I topped him off. I found that waiting on him came quite naturally, and he spanked and fondled my rump every time I came by, like a big trucker sexually harassing a waitress.
Finally I spoke up as I removed my plate from the table.
"Listen.. Big Duff, I'm gonna have to head out soon, I've got plans today and-" I stopped talking when he slammed his hand down on the table.
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