Calluses Pt. 04: Bleed

I felt lost as I began to clean, flaccid enough to think clearly, but not really wanting to be...and then I saw that he was still watching me, studying the smooth muscles shifting across my frame, and...and his hand was sinking beneath the waistband of his pajama bottoms, and his massive cock had emerged, hard and curved and flexing as he slowly, deliberately pumped its length, pleasuring himself. Watching me...

"Keep at it, boy..." he grumbled, eyes hard, and I wasn't soft anymore.

He watched my thick, hairy thighs tremble as I sprayed down the floor, wiping up my own piss...watched my plump cock bounce as I moved the chairs back into place...watched even more intently as I squatted again and again to sweep the rest of the mess into a dustpan, my pink, dilated hole winking at him between the bright red slabs he'd personally beat into submission.

He was keeping me hard without touching me, or even talking to me. He kept me flushed and stupid, thinking only of the inevitable conclusion of his interest...that mammoth cock pumping deep inside, melting me into a puddle. It was going to happen again. That was the silver lining to this excruciating ordeal, wasn't it? He was done with his lessons, done with the pain, and now he could finally get back to fucking me again...and again...as many times as he wanted. My cock drooled at the sheer certainty of it, even as I winced at the pain of my battered ass cheeks...which only made me salivate at the thought of other kinds of pain, better kinds of pain, like Pavlov's dog...

He strolled into the kitchen to check the tiles when I was done. I was back to blushing and avoiding his gaze, so I kept my eyes on the floor, the walls. His dick was hard and huge, making a tent of his pajama bottoms as it swung tightly with each heavy step. "Good job. Nothing half-assed about it."

He moved in next to me, made me flinch. "C'mere," he said calmly. I turned, ready to step into his warm embrace once again...but he'd moved past me, leading me into the hallway that led to the back of the house. "Don't make me tell you twice..."

I followed him back to the bedroom, doing my best not to tremble. My adrenaline was pumping, but it wasn't dread. I knew what was coming soon -- just as I knew the worst was over, for now. The stretching, burrowing punch of his cock was heaven compared to the grueling punishment he'd just put me through, and I wanted to feel it again...wanted it so badly my stomach was tensing up into itself, making me queasy. I could taste it in the back of my throat, like bittersweet bile...

We entered the bedroom, but he didn't lead me to the bed. Instead he led me to the threshold of the master bathroom, a pristine cave with baby blue walls, white counters, and a cavernous walk-in shower behind great sheets of frosted glass. "You need a shower," he reminded me, looking over my bruised, sticky nakedness with a critical eye. I nodded sheepishly, wondering how I'd already forgotten. He knew, of course, and it was making him smile. "Go on -- get in there."

I looked over his shoulder, then at him. He was standing in the doorway, his back against the frame, blocking it completely.

"What did I say, boy?"

I began to press past him...and he just stood there, staring down at me. It was impossible not to grind the length of my naked body against his chest and belly and groin, pulling his clothes along with me as I did. The thick, raunchy smell of him, the feel of his solid frame against me, over me, strong as a redwood tree...my cock was drooling, caught against his thigh before I could squeeze the rest of the way past him. His hard shaft was pressing into my stomach, just above my pubes, making me --

He leaned into me now, pinning me against the threshold with the sheer weight of his muscled bulk. One hand clamped down on the small of my back, nerves tingling like insect legs, while his other hand wrapped itself around my cock, tight and proper. I gasped and moaned like a willing bitch, and I opened my legs for him. He began to milk me ever so slightly, cruelly subtle, bringing me to a painful hardness. I was panting into his shirt, lost in his scent, happy to let it consume me like a cloud of toxic vapor.

The hand at my back moved down, squeezing my red cheeks slowly as they flinched and twitched...and then his thick thumb entered their sweaty cleft, pushing deep into the pliant valley between. I felt him smile when I gasped against the heavy pulse in his throat, making no effort to retreat from him.

His other hand left my hard dick and ran roughly up my flank, past my chest, and he took hold of my jaw, his wide palm resting on my own throat as his fingers stroked the rough stubble of my chin. I grunted with surprise when two of those fingers entered my mouth, pushing past my teeth much as his thumb was doing down below. I opened wide for him, happy to let him finger-fuck me at both ends. I found myself sucking on his knuckles as the aching ring of my hole flared around the thick knob of his thumb, which was pushing deeper...

"Good boy," he grumbled, his deep voice booming in my lungs. "Now...I've gotta go put some sheets in the washer...along with these pajamas, thanks to you pissing all over them..." He was smiling, watching me suckle his fingers. "You're such a filthy little buck. Filthy all over...so yeah, while I'm doing that, you're gonna take a nice long shit. I can feel it in there..."

He jerked his thumb around in my ass, and I could indeed feel the pinched weight further in. I felt like I was sinking, my scalp going numb. He was touching it...touching it inside of me...and it was worse than anything else he'd done to me, even the beatings and the pain...because there was nothing remotely sexual about a log of shit inside my ass. It was disgusting! I was disgusting...I wanted to die right there, to drift up into the clouds and forget I was ever a human being...

He was still stirring my filthy ass with his thumb, though...still stroking my scruffy throat as I whimpered into his beard, bright red with pure humiliation even as my hard cock twitched against his belly. It was horrible...but I knew he wouldn't be touching me there if he didn't want to. He was enjoying this...of course he was. He was savoring the mortally crushed expression on my face, the difficult obscenity of my arousal. He wanted me to feel exactly what I was feeling...so I kept feeling it.

"Best you get rid of that before you hop in the shower, sweet cheeks. Get yourself nice and clean for me...and make sure you wash this thing out good. Plenty of soap in there..." His thumb was openly churning my ass now, tracing the widening ring of my channel, making me clench up, suddenly terrified I'd shit myself right there. He was grinning at me, but his eyes were narrow. "Nice and clean for me, college boy...inside and out. Clean enough to eat off of, understand?" He pulled his thumb out of my ass and slapped it hard, one last numbing blossom of pain. "Go on now."

I stumbled into the bathroom and righted myself, catching my breath, head light and spinning far above. "Matches are on the sink, sweet-cheeks," he cooed, and slammed the door. I was alone again, truly alone, and the silence rang like church bells.

I slid open the frosted glass door of the giant walk-in shower. It was bleached and gleaming with one small, glazed window pressed up against the ceiling, some muffled part of me noting it wouldn't work as an escape route. A bench of white tile jutted out of the wall across from the showerhead, large enough to lie down on. Some of his black pubic hair was stuck in the drain, but that was the only thing out of place. I turned the water on hot and left it to warm up.

My stinking shame dropped out of me all at once when I sat down on the frozen toilet seat, lubricated by all the slimy substances he'd deposited since I'd arrived. I reached behind and flushed immediately, not even getting up. I wanted to forget as soon as I could -- forget that my ass was anything but a natural sheath for his cock, a source of raw pleasure for me, for him...it wasn't working, though. An ass would always be for shit, as much as anything else...

More of it burped out of me without warning, stomach growling. My hole had been stretched wide by his fingers and his cock, gaping like a wet, fleshy chasm -- I couldn't close it fast enough, and the crude, farting burst seemed to echo across the bathroom walls. I could hear him stripping the sheets in the other room, whistling to himself just beyond the thin door that separated us. There was no way he hadn't heard that...

I flushed again, furious at myself and the pathetic state of my weakened body. How would he ever get hard enough to fuck me now, after hearing something like that?

I was disgusting...

I heard his heavy creaking footfalls recede down the hallway. Eventually, he cranked up some classic rock tune on the stereo in the living room, drowning out everything else...not that it mattered now. The damage was done. I cleaned myself methodically, clinically, and flushed one final time. When I was finished I took care to light a couple of matches, cleansing the air with sulfur dioxide just like he'd told me to do.

I stood in front of the mirror, washing my hands like a robot. The glass was steadily fogging up, but I found myself looking right into the eyes of my own reflection. They were puffy and pink around the edges from all the crying he'd wrung out of me, and my lip was crusty with dried snot just below my nose. I looked tired. Delirious, even. Shell-shocked...a victim.

The redheaded jock shimmered into focus, looking past me with his teary gray eyes, faded like the sky after a terrible storm...wearing the same empty expression I had on my own face, both of them merging until we'd become a single, broken excuse for a person...

Man up.

I blinked. Warm copper was seeping into my mouth, and I realized I was biting my cheek. I tongued the sting of the little wound I'd made there, between the scraps of torn skin that were already numb. I let my eyes wander down the defaced landscape of my beaten body until they settled on my hard cock, which was resting against the rim of the sink like a snake in the grass. It had betrayed me completely, along with that nubby piece of me he'd been manipulating up in my ass...pumping me full of stupefying bliss that may as well have been a narcotic, erasing everything else that came along with it...

I shook my head. My thoughts were clear again, truly clear, more than they'd been all week. I felt like I'd just come down from a terrible high, the reality of my situation crushing in like a landslide. What he'd done to me was more obvious than ever. He'd scared the living shit out of me...and he'd used that fear to put me under his boot, to keep me down long enough to overwhelm me with everything else. He'd even turned pain into an erotic thing -- not just the pleasure-pain of his cock fucking into me, but any pain at all. He'd managed to beat me into such a blind state of submissive, sexual confusion...merging shame, agony, fear, and blunt, physical pleasure, until I wanted it...or, at least, I thought I wanted it. Was there a difference? Even now, the memory of his hands twisting my nipples and beating my ass made my dick leak right into the sink, and I hated myself for it.

God...I'd been so stupid. He knew exactly the kind of effect he had on me, and he'd been using it the way a pimp uses heroin to keep his whore in line. I was drowning in a fog of pure arousal whenever I got near him, but I was long past agonizing over the reason why. Gay, straight, bi, whatever -- none of that bullshit mattered now. All that mattered was the fact that being hot for him made me stupid...made me do exactly what he wanted me to do.

This wasn't just a fling for him. The way he was treating me...it was possessive. Obsessive. And he'd done it before, with at least six other guys. He liked me, apparently, for some reason...but now I knew he was capable of far worse than the mind-fuck he was putting me through. I knew that causing another person pain was just as sexual for him as pleasure, or control...and I had no idea if he would stop there.

Was that redheaded jock even still alive? How could I know for sure? There were almost a dozen more videos of him on that laptop...what would the last one show, if I were to watch it right now? Was there a crawlspace under this house, packed with the bones of other scared, stupid young idiots like me? Was there a horror show hidden behind one of the locked doors off the hallway? A wall of human heads, stuffed and mounted; each a handsome, glassy-eyed male specimen, frozen in time, just the way he wanted to remember them...?

I shivered down to my core and leaned over the sink, feeling sick again. The thought of losing my scholarship and going to jail for a few years suddenly didn't seem all that bad. No one knew I was out here, stranded and naked in this house, trapped by this sadistic, unknowable madman who could pin me to the floor with nothing but a look...not to mention his massive, overpowering muscles...Jesus, I was still hard for him. Still feeling the drug of him. Worse, there was a dark, hidden part of me that didn't even care if he'd killed those other guys...because he said he liked me better. The realization made me feel abhorrent, like a groveling dog, a born slave...a natural, just like he said...

Man up.

What was the other thing he'd told me, when all this started?

"If you get your ass fucked that hard, for that long -- you'll start craving it. It's all you'll think about whenever your pretty dick gets hard. Not girls, not pussies. Just cocks in your ass..."

It was true already, less than twenty-four hours after I'd gotten fucked for the first time. My ass was aching for his cock, twitching for him even now. Even my brain was trying to change itself, to accept any kind of rationalization, as long as it meant getting his cock inside of me again. I was hooked.

"No man wants that...not a real man..."

I slammed my fist into the sink, and found my anger again. I was alone for now, out from under his spell -- I had to come up with a plan, while I could. A real one.

I'd failed earlier by trying to reason with him, because I'd made a direct attack. I'd tried to act like a man, to compete as an equal...but I'd never be that to him, and he'd known exactly how to beat, and then fuck, the idea right out of me. More importantly, he still held all the cards in our sick little relationship, because he could always just send me to jail. I had to find some leverage over him -- some way to even the playing field. He wasn't a god, or a demon. He was just a man, like me. He was stronger for sure, and both of us knew it...but he was underestimating me, because no matter what he said, he didn't really know me at all. I was smart, resourceful; I could be devious as well, and I'd have to be. Merciless, same as he was. I just had to keep my wits about me now - keep my eyes open for something I could use.

You can do this.

My cock throbbed. It was trying to cloud my thoughts, ready to betray me as soon as his intoxicating musk returned...which was exactly what he was counting on. There was only one thing to do about that, and I'd have to be quick.

I planted my legs apart and glared at myself in the mirror. I took my cock in hand and began to stroke it maliciously, listening for the sound of his footsteps beneath the thrumming pulse of the rock music. I wiped the fog off the mirror, watching the lean muscles of my torso flex and stretch, sweat beading on its skin, gathering in all its delicate pits and valleys. The sight of my fit young body aroused me in a way I'd never considered until then, and not just because it was an object of his lust. It was more than his toy...I was more than that. I ran my hand over the mean bush of my groin, tracing the line of dark fur against the firm flatness of my belly as it bristled against my palm...

This was a man's body. I was a man, and I could get myself out of this. I stroked my cock faster, pumping my hips into my hand until my balls were smacking against the edge of the sink, inviting the familiar ache, worse by the second, but I didn't stop. I watched my cock grow even larger as the mirror began to fog up again...

I twisted my pink nipple as hard as I dared, and bit my lip to keep from yelping. The room was a roiling miasma of hot steam, heavy in my lungs as I panted through my nose. My cock was throbbing with need, balls tightening against my groin. I looked down at myself with new eyes, my pale skin blushing, sweating, covered in steamy, beading moisture that matted my black chest hair against the heaving meat of my pectorals.

This is a man's body...my body...I'll teach it a lesson for betraying me...punish this filthy piece of trash...oh yes...

I twisted my other nipple until I was grimacing despite myself, imagining my own cock punching deep into my ass like a piston -- and then I was coming hard, exploding all over the sink, and the wall, and my own reflection in the mirror. I cried out silently, rigid against wet porcelain...and then it was over. My body was buzzing all over...but my head was clear and sober.

Good.

I turned with a start, suddenly sure I'd see him standing in the open doorway -- but it was still shut. I was still alone.

I cleaned up my spattered cum as fast as I could, flushed the mass of sticky tissues down the toilet, and rushed into the shower. The water was far too hot, but pain was different for me now. The torrent washed over my body in a searing, cleansing wave, purifying my skin, and I reveled in it. I took the soap and lathered myself up, taking extra care to polish my ass inside and out, bubbly foam stinging me sharply in deep places, revealing tiny wounds I didn't even know I had. I flushed it all out, then did it again. Again.

I tested my clean, soapy hole, pushed my fingers into it as far as they'd go. It was still loose, still receptive, but I'd found some measure of control over it once more. I made it clench around my knuckles until it felt almost virginal...clench again, loosen up, clench again, like a new routine at the gym. Good...

My cock didn't need much encouragement to get hard again, especially with all the attention I was paying to my hole, but it was only for show. I knew it would last much longer now, no matter what he did to me -- and my head wouldn't dissolve back into that useless, fuck-drunk swamp anytime soon. I smiled, and dared to feel the slightest bit of confidence...confidence I'd have to keep hidden, secret and safe.

You see? I told myself. Now you know something he doesn't.You've got a bit of leverage already...