The Professor's New Furniture

Some undetermined—indeed, indeterminable to Harry—hours passed as Harry laid face down into the carpet. Harry was unable to look at the time. He was unable to look around, unable to speak, unable to move, and unable to escape his predicament. Eventually, the professor's new piece of furniture heard a muffled shuffling across the floor.

Harry felt like he could cry for joy. After all this time, he would have given his left leg just for some mental stimulation. Though he knew that such a bargain wouldn't be Harry's to make—each part of his body belonged to the professor now.

The shuffle of slippers continued approaching. Harry heard a door open and close, and the more distinct sound of footsteps approaching him.

"Hmm," the professor's resonate voice mumbled, "That's quite a lovely position my new stool is in. But it can be better."

Harry felt the Professor's hands on his hips, pulling Harry's ass upward. Those same hands then pressed down on Harry's lower back, arching Harry's back as his ass stuck into the air. A firm hand then pressed Harry's face sideways and down into the carpet, such that Harry's cheek squished against the floor and looked to the side.

In this new position, Harry could see the off-white wall again. He saw the dark wood (oak perhaps?) bookshelf, a grandfather clock, and several high windows. The shades were drawn, and Harry could see that the sky was fading from day into dusk. Or was it turning from night to dawn? A piece of furniture does not exist within a human's parameters of time—it just exists to be available for its owner.

A new sensation interrupted this train of thought. Hands—firm and uncaring hands—kneaded massaged Harry's ass cheeks. Strong fingers squeezed Harry's massive, muscular glutes, then slapped them from the sides, making his cheeks jiggle in the air.

The professor exhaled deeply. "This new dollification tech is going to make me millions from the traffickers. But I should really test the product more before I share this. I am very much going to enjoy this new doll."

The professor spread Harry's ass cheeks, then caressed his thumbs around Harry's hole. Shivers rocked Harry's spine as the professor mercilessly poked and prodded his sensitive parts. Harry felt a subtle movement of air as the professor deeply inhaled the boy's aroma.

"Hmmmm, yes," the professor moaned, "This will make me a rich, rich man. Who wouldn't pay dearly for their own little living, breathing fuck toy?"

Harry's breath mechanically inhaled and exhaled as the professor's hands kneaded and penetrated him. There was no way to breathe through the sensation. No way to lessen the intrusion. The hope of fighting back had already been broken in Harry's spirit. Now, he struggled to dissociate from this violation.

When he finally tired of molesting Harry's stiff body with his hands, the professor spread Harry's cheeks and spat into his hole. As the cruel, cold sensation of the psychopath's saliva invaded his ass, Harry once again heard the professor untying his robe. Harry was about to be fucked.

Harry thought again about the video he had watched countless times in his dorm. He thought about the woman's lack of agency and about her identity as an object while two men had their way with her. Likewise, Harry realized that, in more literal and real way, he would be the object of this professor's pleasure. Subject-verb-object. Professor face-fucks Harry. Professor's legs rest on Harry. Professor sets papers on Harry. And now, Professor fucks Harry.

Harry felt a soft object against his ass. The head of the professor's cock slowly explored Harry's massive glutes, before resting itself against his hole. A feeling like an electric jolt shot through Harry at the invasion of his sensitive part. He hadn't realized how many nerve endings he had back there.

"There's a good boy," the professor cooed as he wrapped his hands around Harry's hips and repositioned himself behind the boy, "I know that it can hear and see and smell and taste and fucking feel everything and that's so fucking hot!"

The professor laughed maniacally as he pushed just the head of his cock into Harry. Harry could feel the new sensation—a sensation that he never expected to feel—and his panic deepened. The professor sounded like a crazy person from a bad slasher film. And Harry was at his complete mercy.

The professor slowly rocked his hips. It was too much. He was too big. But Harry couldn't shift himself away. Harry couldn't tell the professor to slow down—much less scream or cry. Harry could do nothing except exist as the breathing flesh light for this monstrous psychopath.

Inch by inch, Harry could feel every part of the professor's cock as it broke in Harry's virgin hole.

"So goddamn tight," the older man moaned, "And the best part? It never won't be tight. It's going to feel just like this—for both of us—every fucking time. Fuuuuck."

The professor continued working his way in, until eventually Harry could feel the invasion penetrating to the level of his naval. He didn't realize that such a violation was possible. He had never felt the sensation of being filled like this, and then emptied as the professor pulled himself out of him, and then filled again.

The sheer powerlessness and humiliation broke something inside of Harry. There would be no going back from this moment. And it slowly sank in that Harry was unlikely to ever escape from this monster. His only hope was to be discovered and rescued.

The professor had clearly worked himself up, as only a few short pumps later, he pushed himself deeply into Harry, holding himself in by Harry's hips. Harry could feel the pulsing and warmth as the professor's seed filled Harry's insides.

"Fuuuuuuuck," the professor moaned softly. Harry could feel and hear the soft 'POP' as the professor pulled his member from Harry's hole. The unwelcome sensation of cum dripping down Harry's cheeks and legs soon followed.

"Fuck, that's going to be nice to have around." Though his effort lasted a few short minutes, the professor sounded out of breath. "Best piece of furniture I've ever owned. And soon to be the most well-used."

**TO BE CONTINUED**