Mark stood holding the door open as he watched the naked young man walk down his stairs. Even now, after fucking and using his mouth, he was struck by how beautiful Paul was. The tears on his face made him feel just a little guilty. Maybe, he had gone too far. As quick as that thought entered his mind though Mark reminded himself Paul had asked for it. Very specifically, he had asked for rape which it was not as he had come here of his own free will. His hand easily moving to his groin as he felt another warm sensation of arousal. Paul, he thought, had to be his. He was too beautiful and too innocent, and obedient -- his cock felt that recognition, to let him go.
Standing maybe 5'9 Paul stood at the bottom of the stairs. Naked as the day he was born. He had come three times under Mark's hand. His balls were empty. He looked at Mark, greying thinning hair, a small goatee beard greyer than the remaining hair on his head. His chequered shirt, heavy jeans, strong boots, impatient jingling of keys in his hand as he waited for Paul. The clothes though could not hide Mark's bulk. His double chins, giving way to heavy set shoulders and a seriously large gut. Paul accepted, even as he dropped his gaze unable to meet Mark's eyes, that Mark was a formidable looking man standing over six feet. Easily over 200 lbs, though his gut was too large, he held it well. Paul knew, now, what was beneath that gut and realised that he felt, in every way, inferior to Mark. Particularly inferior to Mark's cock. He would never be able to wank himself again without knowing that his cock was that of boy and not a man.
Mark breathed slowly, not speaking not moving, as Paul bowed his head at the bottom of the stairs. He enjoyed looking at him. Slim waist, almost hairless chest, a cock that seemed more boy than man. A cock that reacted to the cold air blowing in from the open door -- almost shrivelled back into his light covering of brown pubic hair. He liked that -- Mark noticed for the first time -- the almost bare erotically innocent look. He had never thought of himself bi or gay and, even now after brutally fucking Paul, he still justified himself as straight. His rationalisation to himself was simple enough -- he enjoyed sex and sex with other men was just easier. He did not have the time or the patience to find another woman after his wife left him. Quickly finding the easy supply of guys, young guys usually, who would suck him off in various roadside carparks. Paul was the first one he had taken home. He knew, for sure, that he did not want to lose him or what he offered. Ever.
"Paul maybe I was a bit rough on you there. You are a hot young lad so maybe I got a little carried away. But, I mean, you did ask for rape and we both know that! How are you feeling?" He asked with genuine interest, but his primary motives were already forming up in his head. Though he would drive Paul back and drop him off where he had picked him up, he did not want to lose control of him. Indeed, the throat fucking he had just given Paul, replayed in his mind. Particularly, the point of Paul automatically apologising for his inability to cope and, erotically, how automatically his mouth opened even though he did not want Mark's cock in his mouth.
Paul, feeling the bitter cold wind cover his naked body, wiped away the drying tears as he considered Mark's question. His bottom and throat hurting, very painful still, he felt threatened and assaulted by Mark. Though, Paul's thoughts quickly reminded him that he did say to Mark, and recorded the message if there was any doubt, that Mark could do anything he wanted, including rape him. He felt raped. Raped. Yet he had fucking asked for it so it could not be true -- could it. He felt raped. Yes that was what was in his mind. He had asked for it but what had happened was much worse than he had ever imagined. His 'rapists' eyes were stuck on his nakedness. He could see the focus on his cock and though he felt like covering his nudity and hiding his cock he also worried that would upset Mark.
He answered, "OK, I guess." Paul knew that sounded like a lie and, very briefly, looking up to Mark's face he caught the same understanding in Mark's eyes.
"You got what you asked for yes?" The tone in Mark's voice was already firmer than when he asked how Paul was feeling. That tone easily threatening to Paul.
Mark felt encouraged by his own tone and the power of the situation. He stood, standing fully clothed against this young man's nakedness, car keys in his hand so holding the access to Paul's clothes in his hands. Holding the door open to the cold air that Paul shivered from just to enforce the power he felt as he watched Paul cower with the wintry temperature. The naked young man in front of him was his. His clothes were in the car, locked, he was naked in his house. He knew that Paul had no idea where he was or how to get home. Christ, he doubted that Paul even had money to get home if he knew what road to walk to the nearest bus stop. Then, Mark's thoughts running freely, he had been rough on Paul. Very rough. Worryingly Paul could easily say something to somebody. Mark, his own sense of angry righteousness in his chest, did not want that. He waited for Paul to respond to his question as his mind was moving on to consider how he might get more control over Paul.
