The Slave Boy 01

His cock pushed at my sore and violated entrance, and then pushed in. I let out a muffled cry of pain, and Haagan shushed me gruffly, groaning under his breath. He started moving his hips in shallow thrusts, grinding my battered insides with his thick throbbing member. I was panting so quickly and shallowly it sounded like I was crying. My fingernails dug into his back, and he grunted. I couldn't help it. It felt like I was being split open by a tree.

I let out a high-pitched mew of pleasure and relief as he hit my sweet spot. It was a magical place, that eased the pain and filled me with intoxicating pleasure.

He kissed me, and it was welcome. Tears were streaming down my face from the pain of the initial entry. When he kissed me, he slowed down, grinding the head of his cock against my sweet spot and darting his tongue in my mouth to taste me while I clung to him and wrapped my legs around his flexing lower back.

He broke the kiss and tucked his chin behind my shoulder. He dug his hands under me and clasped my shoulders, he spread his legs, and suddenly he was pistoning in and out of me. I cried out with pleasure and eye-watering pain as he reamed me open, my aching cock bouncing between us, his hot grunts in my ear.

He grunted and thrust very hard, his entire body tense and trembling like a wire. I was numb down there, but I could still feel the hot come leaking out of me. Feel his hard cock softening inside of me.

He sat up, panting. Suddenly his hand was on my cock, stroking and squeezing. His one hand cradled my testes and squeezed them very gently. I cried out and arched my back. The pleasure was intense and hot and everywhere after the pain. I was rushing towards a climax so quickly that I didn't care how I looked.

I writhed on the bed and clutched handfuls of the coverlet in my hands and I let out a gasping cry when I felt my groin explode with pleasure. I could feel hot liquid drops landing on my abdomen and chest.

I panted, and went limp. Haagan lay down on top of me, crushing my body underneath his, his head resting on the bed, his ear against my cheek. I could feel him panting, his chest expanding and getting smaller. I could feel his soft cock against my softening cock. I could feel his heart beating, his wiry hair against me. His hot breath in my ear.

I tentatively rested my hands on his back, one between his shoulder blades, one on his lower back, feeling the ridge of his spine. His arms were splayed above me. He was exhausted. The sex had been brief, violent, and he was covered in sweat.

I closed my eyes. I just wanted to sleep, to cherish the extra few minutes I had until I would have to report to the slave-master. I couldn't sleep though. My stomach felt upset.

He had just violated me. It had been so painful that I had been crying and begging for him to stop. He still hadn't stopped. He had taken my innocence, three times. I was in a lot of pain. I should have hated him, but I didn't.

His weight was constricting, but it felt nice. I liked the warmth of his body draped over mine. I liked him. He had given me something new, and precious. I had never been able to have pleasure before, half of the time when we settled into our straw beds at night, I was too tired even to stroke myself. My asshole was sore and gaping and burning, but I felt empty. I wanted to be filled again.

And with that, my eyes closed.

---

I was being shaken awake. I jumped blearily into alertness, looking around frantically, ready to duck or dodge a blow.

I relaxed only slightly when I saw that Haagan was over me. He was fully clothed, in leather leggings and a linen shirt and a horsehair vest and a long gray cloak. He was wearing his heavy riding boots and all ready to go. I felt sick to my stomach. The slave-master was not going to be lenient with me.

Haagan's voice was chipper and alert. "Hup, Aro, it's time to go!"

I pulled the covers around my skinny chest. I had several oval red marks on my chest from where he had given me hickeys. "Wh-What do you mean, S-Sir?"

"I bought you Kitten... You're coming with me. I had one of the girls fetch your things, so get dressed. It's two days ride to Whitthorne."

He was right. My pitiful bundle of belongings was neatly wrapped on the floor, and he had even laid out some fresh clothes for me to wear. I was trying to think, trying to comprehend the consequences.

I was no longer the slave of Boris Strong-Hammer. I belonged to Haagan now. I belonged to the man who had fucked my ass raw. I belonged to the man who I secretly desired, despite (or perhaps because of) the things he did with my body.

I rolled out of the bed, naked and sore. He was full of energy. He pulled my linen shirt over my head, talking about how eager he was to be home.

He was treating me differently now. There was a gentleness to his movements that had been absent. He fastened the cloak over my shoulders, and held me at arms length to take a look at me.

"Damn, you are a pretty little man aren't you? Follow me Aro, we're leaving."

I moved through the hallways and into the main hall. Many of the men were still sleeping. Disheveled and red-eyed serving girls cleaned up and served watered wine and porridge to those who were awake. The men were mostly hungover, and they eyed the girls blearily, as if wondering if it was worth it to take them.

I walked through the hall in a sort of daze. My ass felt sore, but in a good way. Just walking made me feel how my asshole had been stretched, and it was making me horny. I was leaving. It didn't seem possible, but I was leaving.

The skeptical, sensible part of my mind warned me that Haagan might be just as cruel. He might even be worse. I might be working sixteen hours a day and then still expected to be fucked every night.

But I was still hopeful. Was it wrong of me to hope that my life would get better with him? Was it really too much to ask for?