The Demon in My Bed

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.

Jason leaned down and half-whispered into my ear, loud enough to hear through the towel. "Just surrender, Henry. Submit to me. Your body will reward you, if you just give in. You can do it. That's what you want, right? To feel good again?"

There was an edge to his voice, like he was excitedly telling me an ancient secret. Something that wasn't written in books, only said in whispers, only imparted in this evil way.

I screamed through the towel, and tried to get him off me again. He leaned up away from my ear, pushed me deeper into the bed by the back of my neck, and squeezed his legs tighter to keep me still. "Suit yourself. Make it harder than it needs to be if you want," he taunted, as he continued brutalizing my ass.

I managed to get the towel out of my mouth with my tongue, and spit it out.

"Jason, please stop. It hurts. Stop. It hurts too much," I pleaded through the sobs choking my throat. "Please stop. Can you at least put lube on it, or just give me a break, please? I just need a br--"

He paused his thrusting, and shoved the towel back in my mouth, farther down this time, and pulled the rest of it around my head tighter. Then he resumed his work -- whispering poison in my ear.

"You need to learn, Henry. You need to learn that your purpose is to give men like me pleasure. This little ass that you show off to everyone was designed by god to be a servant. A servant for me. A sleeve for me to use. Your body belongs to me. Once you accept your place beneath me, I'll consider giving you a breather."

Lust was dripping from his voice. This wasn't a man in my bed -- it was a demon from hell.

He wasn't going to stop.

If I give him what he wants, he'll chill out. This only happened because I rejected him and said I wasn't horny. If I want the pain to stop, I have to give him what he wants, I thought.

I took stock of my body. Every muscle was tensed, fighting helplessly against his weight, trying to reject this forced rutting. I made myself relax. It was hard with the towel in my throat and Jason's body pressing the air out of me, but I, somehow, made it work. One by one, my legs collapsed into the bed, followed by my arms, then my torso, then my neck stopped trying to crane up. I wasn't fighting anymore. I was just lying there, enduring the pain.

Jason took a deep breath. "Good boy. I'm so proud of you, baby," he breathed out, excitement obvious in his voice. He started to slow down his thrusts, and didn't go balls deep every time.

Thank god, I thought. This was bearable. I could do this. It was almost like normal sex.

As it went on, the throbbing pain slowly melted away. I felt the tingle of pleasure begin crawling up my insides. During a thrust, my body involuntarily arched up and drove his cock deeper than he planned. He gasped. I felt warm pleasure spread throughout my body. Every inch of my skin was vibrating. My abused hole was pulsing and squeezing around him. I had goosebumps from my head to my toes, and heard moans escaping my throat, even with the towel lodged in it. Jason stopped for a moment, buried halfway in me, like he was waiting for something.

The compulsion came over me again. I squeezed my internal muscles on the huge cock stuffing me and pushed up into it. Jason grunted in victory and started fucking me as mercilessly as before I surrendered. If I didn't have a towel covering my eyes and were facing him, I'd bet I'd see the psychopath grinning from ear to ear. The fucker had been right. He won. Surrendering myself was making this nightmare ... feel good. This was the forbidden knowledge he'd been whispering about. I could feel my dick was hard now. I couldn't reach it to jerk off. The only thing that mattered was submitting to Jason -- and the feelings he was causing inside my body.

He was cooing and gushing over me now, like a proud father. "Oh, there it is, baby. I told you, see? Oh, fuck, this is so fucking hot. Your hole is squeezing my cock. Fuck, you want this now, don't you? Does it feel good? You like me abusing you like this, huh? Hurting you? Does your tight little hole love this now?"

He pulled the towel out of my mouth, leaving the rest of it still around my head. But I wasn't able to respond because I was lost in the divine sensations. All I managed was more moaning, but louder.

"That's good, baby. That's my boy. Oh, so sweet. So good. I'm so glad you trusted me to help you. This feels so right, doesn't it? Do you love it? Answer me."

"YES," I blurted out in the middle of a moan. I hadn't meant to yell it like that, it just happened as his throbbing cock slid over my prostate.

"Yes what?" He stopped pumping, and left just the head stuck in my swollen, convulsing hole, waiting for me to answer.

"Yes, I love this," I said to my attacker. I blushed hotly, as the humiliation scorched me. I wiggled my ass, trying to get him moving again.

Jason sank in, to the hilt, and brought me relief. He continued to pour sweet venom into my ear.

"Good boy. That's my baby. And you are my baby, you know that, right? This is how it's gonna be from now on. You're a sheath for my cock. You're gonna give it to me whenever and however I want it. You are mine. Never talk back to me again. Do you understand me?" His voice was more authoritative near the end, like he was chastising an employee at work.

"Yes," I spat between moans.

"Yes what? Call me master."

"Yes, master. I'm yours, master."

He suddenly stopped and began turning me over on my back. He peeled the rest of the towel off my head. My face was sticky from dried blood and tears, so I winced when it separated from my skin and hair. I was now on my back, looking through swollen eyes at my boss, my attacker, my master.

"Look at that beautiful face. Yes, you're mine now. All mine."

He pushed my legs back and slid back into my eager ass, this time working at a faster pace. I had forgotten that I asked for a break, and gave him what he wanted for a break, but now a break was the furthest thing from my mind. I wanted more of this sinful, sadistic sex. It was consuming me, filling me up and over the edge with humiliation, pain, and lust. The agony had bloomed into pleasure. Fresh tears brimmed my eyes as I wondered what the fuck was happening to my body and mind. The contradictions weren't resolvable. The intense pleasure only existed because of the intense pain. I was suppressing the urge to scream, run, escape, fight back, and as a reward, the heat of submission was enveloping my body in warm safety. It was bliss.

Jason began fucking me even faster, and then got tense. He finally kissed me. Our tongues explored each other's mouths for the first time, while his pounding reached a fever pitch. I rode the pure euphoria until my balls tightened, my hole spasmed around him, and cum erupted onto my stomach, chest, face, and hair. His grunting became long moans, as he shot ropes of his sticky jizz. The warm seed spread throughout my insides. I could tell it was a lot of cum.

He pulled out, collapsed on top of me, and we both passed out, physically exhausted from the fight and the fuck.

In my dream, the silhouette of a man stood out on a distant shore. An ocean of fire broiled between us. His loud voice commanded me to kneel. I fell to my knees. His eyes found me, and he saw my pain, saw my shame, and offered me a gift. He stretched his arm out over the flames, reaching me from so far away; his fingers opened the top of my head, and left something inside.

I woke up the morning after and felt numb. I climbed out from underneath the slumbering, drooling, stinking man and struggled to the bathroom. I looked in the mirror and gasped.

There was dried blood smeared all over my face, neck, and chest. My hair was matted. My eyes were bloodshot and swollen. There were cuts on my lips and around my eyebrows. I didn't see any bruises, but I knew that's because they take a day or two to show. Sunday morning, I looked like the survivor of an explosion. I knew I would have to take at least a week away from work because of it. It was so nice of Jason to approve the time off.

A deranged smile broke out across the wounded face in the mirror. My heart began to race, as I remembered the unholy ecstasy I'd experienced the night before at the hands of my boss, my attacker, my master.

...

"Henry? Hello? What does that mean? What do you mean you don't want to do this anymore?"

I slipped back into the present. I was still looking out the window, away from Jason. He had turned the music off and it was silent. There weren't any more lights zipping by and the rain had stopped. The joint I was holding had burnt out.

I guess I had dozed off.

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