Just Let It Happen

All characters 18+. Copyright 2024. All rights reserved.

Trigger warnings: dark themes, violence, non-con, cuckold ----------

The sharp metal fins of the locker's vents dug into my cheek. Salty, metallic blood dribbled from my nose, over my lip and into my mouth. My shoulder joint screamed as Tony wrenched my arm even further behind my back. He pulled me upright, his hand a vise around my wrist. My pinned arm complained, and I cried out.

"Did you think I wouldn't recognize you?" Tony growled.

He slammed my face into the locker again. Pain shot across the back of my skull and down my neck, joining the agony of my overextended joint. I whimpered in despair. How could this be happening again?

"You're such a weak little bitch."

That's what he'd called me in high school. Well, one of the things he'd called me. Shitstain. Piss streak. There were others; I'd tried hard to forget them. I'd tried hard to forgive myself for never standing up to him.

Tony released my arm, and I sighed in relief. The feeling was short lived. A fist slammed into my abdomen. The kidney punch stole my breath. Pain blazed everywhere, flaring from every nerve. My knees buckled, and I slumped against the bank of lockers. I couldn't hold myself up. My body began to sag. I slid down the smooth, metal surface like drool rolling over a baby's chin. Curling on my side at Tony's feet, I hoped to just pass out. Maybe I could play dead. Maybe he'd leave me alone if I wasn't any fun to play with.

Tony crouched. He grabbed my jaw and squeezed, forcing my mouth open, my teeth gouging the smooth flesh inside my cheek. He turned my head so I was looking up at him. I blinked against the bright overhead lights of the locker room, his features in silhouette. Then, he leaned a little closer, blocking the light, and my eyes adjusted.

A smug sneer curled Tony's lips. The shadow of a beard emphasized his sharp jaw. I didn't look any higher—you're not supposed to look a predator in the eye.

"Look at me, shitstain."

Not unless they order you to. Our eyes met, and I whimpered again. Tony had incredible eyes--not the kind you'd expect on a sadistic asshole. They were big and cobalt blue. Iridescent. Penetrating. He saw my fear and pain. He saw my weakness and surrender. His lip curled a little more, extending his sneer. He found me contemptible, sure, but I could see something else in his extraordinary eyes: satisfaction.

Tony barked a short laugh as he released my jaw. He stood up.

"I've missed beating your sorry ass," he said, spinning the dial on a nearby locker. "You were one of my favorites."

I remained on the floor, trying to catch my breath, not daring to move. Being one of Tony's "favorites" was a distinction no one had wanted. Catching Tony's eye had meant getting tossed into a dumpster before school, getting tripped and shoved during school, and getting tackled and beaten after school. Tony had had a shitty home life—I'd known that even before high school. Absent mother, abusive father, vicious older brothers. But understanding why Tony was so aggressive hadn't made the cuts and bruises hurt any less.

I heard rustling and opened one eye to check. Tony had peeled off his exercise shirt and was holding a green canvas gym bag. Yeah, there was no chance I was standing up to him. Tony was tall and broad, at least half a foot taller than my 5'-9". At 23, he was even bigger than he'd been in high school, his shoulders beefy and his arms thick with muscle. As he shoved the gym bag back in the locker, he shifted and my throat closed in fear. He was totally ripped with a prominent, muscled chest and brick-like abs.

Tony glanced down and saw me watching him. He smirked. After slamming the locker shut, he reached down and grabbed a handful of my t-shirt.

"No," I said weakly, breath still painful and shallow.

Tony paid me no mind. He dragged me across the locker room floor. I clung to his wrist and forearm, shuffling my legs in a useless attempt to get my feet under me. He headed toward the showers, then stopped and changed direction. We approached the bathroom stalls. I feared the worst, but Tony just dropped me on the floor next to a urinal. He pulled down his gym shorts, and I heard the splatter of urine. Thinking him occupied, I rolled to hands and knees, but Tony was no dummy. A well-placed kick caught me in the same spot as his earlier punch, and I toppled to the tiled floor, holding my side and wheezing.

"Did I tell you you could get up?"

That's when a warm stream of Tony's piss splattered across my arms, chest and shoulders. As the stream petered out, Tony stepped closer and directed the last spurts to fall on the side of my face. I turned away and felt warm piss seep through my hair to coat my scalp.

"Now you definitely need a shower," Tony said with a tone of satisfaction. Satis-fucking-faction. This shit was fulfilling to him.

Tony caught hold of my foot and tucked my toes into the crook of his elbow. He dragged me back toward the showers, my head bumping on the seams between tiles. I considered kicking him with my other leg. I could get free and run. Could I make it out of the locker room before he caught me? Probably not. Could I reach—.

My train of thought derailed as Tony dragged me into a shower stall. What was he planning now? The stall was cramped, barely large enough for a guy Tony's size. He propped my outstretched leg against the shower's back wall, then looked back at me, eyeing my urine-drenched shirt. He didn't want to get piss on his hands.

At that moment, what I'd worried about most happened. There came a knock on the locker room door. A woman called my name.

"Gordie?"

A cruel smile crept onto Tony's handsome face. "I was wondering how long she'd take."

He seized me under the armpits, ignoring the foul dampness of my shirt, and manhandled me so I was on my back under the shower head, feet in the air, heels propped haphazardly against the walls. He spun the shower handle and icy water poured over me. I yelped.

"Gordon?"

"Stay put," Tony ordered, eyes hard, a jaw muscle flexing. He left.

I should have moved. I should have peeled off my piss-soaked shirt and stood up to greet my fiancée. I should have stormed through that locker room, grabbed Debbie's hand, and left before anything worse could happen. But I didn't. I was hurt and humiliated and afraid. Something inside me couldn't escape high school logic: it will be worse if you struggle. Just let it happen—it will be over soon. The water grew steadily warmer, the stream striking my sternum and spraying across the rest of my fully clothed body.

"Gordie!" I heard Debbie exclaim. "Are you okay?"

A second later she was in the stall peering down at me, her pretty face flushed from exercise and her own shower. She'd pulled her soft brown hair back in a bun; she didn't like washing it at the gym. Her big, beautiful breasts hung in space above me. I wanted to shove my face between them and cry but all I managed was a soft croak.

"Deb-bie."

Debbie turned to the shirtless Tony standing behind her, his powerful torso propped against the stall's wall. His thick, muscular arm spanned the narrow space. He looked relaxed, even helpful, but my eyes traced that strong arm, knowing it closed off the possibility of escape.

"What happened? Did he fall?"

I could hear her concern and confusion. I wanted to shout at her to watch out, to run, but a feeling of hopelessness carved a hole in my guts. Tony would use her against me. He'd do something to her just to hurt and humiliate me. That's what he always did. That's what filled whatever mean, spiteful hole he had in his heart.

Tony was saying something to Debbie, gesturing. He kept his voice low. I couldn't hear Debbie's response over the sound of the spraying water. I could see, though, how he'd moved closer, his muscular body dwarfing her in the small space, his shoulders twice as broad as her body. She had to crane her neck to talk to him.

I'd noticed Debbie eyeing Tony while we were working out but hadn't thought much of it. I'd checked out a couple cute gym girls running in their exercise tights. Why shouldn't Debbie look at built dudes lifting weights? It was only natural. Of course, that had been before I'd recognized Tony. That had been earlier, when there'd been other people in the gym. Now, it was late, and they were the only ones left in the building.

Debbie turned back to me. "You poor thing."

She bent down, which sent her well-shaped ass in Tony's direction. I could see his leering face over her shoulder.

She's mine now, he mouthed. I couldn't read lips, but I didn't need to. That's exactly what I'd expect him to say.

Debbie put a comforting hand on my shoulder. "Let's get you up." She gave my shoulder a squeeze.

I was reaching to put my hand over hers when Debbie suddenly jerked backwards. She gave a short cry. A big hand seized the knot of her bun and pulled her head up. Debbie's eyes went wide with terror.

My throat clogged with misery as Tony wrapped his strong arm about her throat. His other arm held Debbie by the waist. My anguish rose as that arm shifted. He found her waistband and slipped his hand beneath the sexy yoga pants I'd bought her a few months earlier for her birthday.

Debbie's shock dissipated. She began to struggle, wriggling and crying out. She pulled on the arm about her throat and reached behind her to get at Tony. Her efforts made little difference. Debbie wasn't a fighter. She was fit but gentle. She had an amazing body, but it was no match for Tony's brawn.

"Stop!" Debbie shouted, "Stop it!"" She swatted Tony's head.

The big man turned his face away but otherwise showed no concern for her strikes. Meanwhile, the tight fabric of Debbie's pants showed his hand between her legs, fingers moving, hand stretching the fabric as it shifted and played.

"Help! Gordie! Help me!" Debbie's cries grew frantic.

Her plea triggered a new emotion, an indignation I'd forgotten I could feel. I could give up on myself, but I couldn't give up on Debbie. I rolled to one side and made to stand, my body fatigued from my workout and aching from Tony's earlier beating. Just as I pushing myself upright, Tony's foot slammed into my belly, spinning me half around and slamming me into the back wall.

I clung to the wet tile, regaining my senses. I had to help Debbie. I turned, raising my fists, but Tony was ready for me. He'd shoved Debbie's pants down, freeing his hand. His fist lashed out. I tried to block, but Tony was too fast. His fist slammed into my jaw, snapping my head to one side and sending me headfirst into the shower wall. I saw stars as my skull made contact. I fell to a heap on the floor.

Tony used his foot to roll me over. I groaned, one hand holding my forehead, the other holding my jaw. I was in much the same position as before: sprawled on my back with water pouring onto my belly. Before me Tony still held Debbie about the neck, his hunky bicep flexed and pushing against her throat. She was pulling ineffectually at his other hand, which had returned to its business at her crotch.

Debbie stopped trying to hit Tony. She whimpered and pulled at his arm and the hand between her legs. It wasn't working. She didn't have the leverage or the strength to move him. I stared at the tufts of brown hair I could see above Tony's thick hand. Another man's fingers were inside my fiancée's pussy. What could I do? The side of my body throbbed, my shoulder ached, my jaw might be cracked, and a painful lump was growing on my head. I pushed against one wall and swiveled so I could reach Debbie, but when I raised my hand, Tony's foot was there to kick it away.

It was no use fighting him. The small space gave him a decisive advantage. Tony could control us both without much trouble. It would be worse if we struggled. He was so big—as big as Debbie and I put together. He was too strong. We should just let it happen—it would be over soon. I stared up at Debbie in growing dismay.

Debbie saw the surrender in my eyes, and it cracked her spirit. Not a lot, but Tony only needed a little crack. Tony saw the look in my eyes, too. He felt Debbie sag a little in response. With the same barked laugh of triumph I'd heard earlier, Tony dropped the arm around Debbie's throat and tucked his hand up her shirt, grabbing one of her breasts. He lifted her off her feet by breast and crotch and strummed her pussy, breaking open that tiny crack in her will, widening it.

"No," Debbie whimpered. She shook her head. "No."

Tony's hand flexed, his fingers driving in and out. Debbie rocked her pelvis. Her legs jerked in midair. I shook my head, too. No. I could see what Tony was doing. I knew what would happen.

"No," Debbie whined. "No."

The muscles on her slim forearms stood out as she pulled at Tony's thick, corded arm. She might as well have been trying to pull down an oak tree. That's when I noticed the big purple head of Tony's dick sticking out between Debbie's legs. He must have dropped his shorts when he'd pulled her pants down.

He was big and hard. Debbie could surely feel him between her legs. The organ stood straight out from Tony's body like the arm of a construction crane. As I stared, a pearly drop of precum formed on the bulbous tip.

Debbie squirmed, pulling my eyes away from the terrifying sight. Her head rolled to one side. She pressed her face against Tony's big arm as if seeking comfort from her tormentor. I wished for her to prevail, but I knew her fantasies just as I knew Tony's strength and power. Her mouth dropped open and even with the sound of the shower, I could hear her soft moan.

"No," she said, but this time it was barely a whisper. "No."

I knew what came next. Her cute little face scrunched. I knew what came next. Her breath caught. I knew what came next. Debbie came. She'd been fighting it, so when her release arrived, it tore through her entire body. Her limbs quaked and her eyes rolled back. Her breath hitched again and again while blowing soft staccato moans. Her abs flexed, belly rolling as the convulsions passed through her.

Tony kept up his assault on Debbie's pussy. She winced and squirmed, but Tony didn't care about her feelings. He kept plundering her, and soon a squelching sound joined Debbie's moaning and the shower's spray as Tony crammed his fingers into her sopping sex.

"Oh god," Debbie moaned.

She was in pain. He was hurting her. Tony had overused her sweet, sensitive pussy. To my surprise, Tony took a step toward me. Using a thickly muscled thigh, he shoved Debbie's pelvis forward and up. Warm water sluiced down on her crotch, striking her exposed clit as Tony twisted and thrust his fingers.

"Oh!" Debbie cried in surprise. Then, her tone changed. "OH! OH MY GOD!!"

Debbie came again, having never fully come down from the first orgasm. I'd never seen her do that.

Tony lowered Debbie to the floor, keeping a firm hold about her waist. She was still climaxing; she could barely stand. He dragged the front of her top over her head so the fabric caught behind her neck and pulled her shoulders back. Her big boobs flopped against her chest, areolae wide and dark, nipples tight with arousal. My mouth watered involuntarily.

Tony turned and pushed Debbie up against the wall of the changing area.

"Fuck no," I growled.

I was moving before I could think. I was moving because I couldn't think. I flung myself forward in a senseless lunge, slamming into Tony's midsection. It was like launching myself at a brick wall. Tony had an arm braced and barely moved an inch. Debbie regained her senses, though, and noticed an opening. She slipped under Tony's outstretched arm and lurched toward the open doorway.

I shifted my weight, trying to pull Tony toward me and away from her, but I was weak and sodden. I could get little purchase on his smooth skin and little traction on the slick floor. It wouldn't have mattered anyway. With the ease of a well-trained athlete, Tony moved rapidly and with perfect coordination. He planted his feet, snaked an arm out to corral Debbie, and at the same time palmed the side of my head. With a quick movement, he thrust forward the hip I was braced against and slammed my head against the wall. Yeah. He basically hip checked my head.

I lost consciousness for a short time. When I came to, Tony had my fiancée back against the wall but this time in the shower. His hand was at the back of her neck, holding her in place. Water sprayed across Tony's broad back, rivulets highlighting every hard ridge and mound of muscle. Debbie was trapped in front of him, palms splayed, face turned toward me. Her expression was strange. Terror, worry...and a little anticipation?

Her gaze shifted, and I let my eyelids droop. I don't know why I did it. I didn't want her to see me, I guess. I didn't want her to think I could fight again when I couldn't. To struggle against Tony was to know pain.

"No," Debbie moaned.

I risked opening my eyes again. Debbie wasn't looking at me. Her neck was craned as she looked back at Tony. The hulking man had fisted his thick cock and was rubbing the fat head against Debbie's pussy. Back and forth. Back and forth. Back and forth. He did it slowly, confidently, a sly smirk tugging at his lips. Debbie trembled, the soft cheeks of her sweet ass jiggling.

God, I loved her butt. I'd grip it and fuck her and slap my pelvis against those sweet cheeks to watch them shake. With a sinking feeling of dread, I realized that I was about to watch Tony do just that.

Except that he didn't. He pulled his hips back. That's when another form of dread struck me. From head on, I hadn't seen the real size of Tony's dick. From the side I discovered what Debbie would have to take. Tony had an enormous cock. The hand clamped around his cock was also big—I knew from experience—but only covered half his length. And, he was thick. The kind of thick that should only come in stubby sizes, but in this case ran the whole prodigious span. Fucking fuck. Ten long inches of Coke can, maybe. That size cock would break Debbie in half. It would ruin her pussy.

Ruin her pussy for me. I was half the length, half the width. Half the man. I wanted to cry.

I almost did, except Debbie shimmied her hips. Her eyes widened; the movement hadn't been conscious. Tony gave a short laugh.

"Never had a big one, have you?"

Debbie didn't answer. She turned her face away, flushing, and pressed her forehead against the wall, eyes closed. Tony's smile grew wider, more arrogant. He took a half-step forward, lined up his cock, and pushed inside.

Debbie's eyes popped open. Her mouth dropped into an "o". Her hand slipped down the wall and flexed as if to drill her fingertips into the tile. Meanwhile, Tony drilled her pussy. He swiveled his hips in slow turns, glutes flexing, abs rippling, cock reaming deeper. An inch. Another.

Debbie's legs began to shake. "You fucking bastard."

Another inch.

"Fuck you," she cried, nearly breathless. "Asshole."

Another inch. Another.

"You love it," said Tony. He still had maybe five inches—as much cock as I had—left to give her. He stayed still, though, and let her feel it.

Feel it she did. Debbie whimpered and squirmed, probably trying to find room in her pussy for all that cock. Her breathing grew ragged

"You can take it," Tony coaxed. "Relax. Be a good girl."

"Fuck you," Debbie said again.

Tony's smile was wide and predatory and full of straight, white teeth. He stirred his hips, making Debbie cry out. Then, sucking air between his teeth, Tony withdrew.

Debbie sagged. She closed her eyes, breathing fast and hard against the tile wall.

Tony gripped his dick, slapping the hard length against her butt cheeks. "Beg me for more cock."

Debbie's face screwed up in fear and frustration. I slammed my eyes shut as she turned her head my way, looking for help, for support. I couldn't help her; there was nothing I could do now. That much was clear. I waited. What would she say?