TEMPTATION - A Bad Boy Romance (106 page)

Poor little wimp couldn’t manage much more than a moan in reply. I had him wrapped around my finger, and to drive the point home I stuck two fingers down his throat once more. I had two objectives:

First: I wanted to own his body and soul.

Second: I wanted to have him beg me for more.

From the sound of things, I was already halfway there. What made the experience all the more decadent was that the crowd was all watching the process unfold. Fifty or more pairs of eyes were trained on my prowess. In that moment, I was a celebrity, and he was my fucktoy.

At first, I had simply indulged in the sweat on our bodies. The mere sight of my prey working himself up into a lather over my touch was enough to drive me to heat. Sure, I did a bit of dancing, but dancing is for people who don’t have someone to fuck yet. With this desperate, sweaty ass rubbing against my cock I had no more need for pre-mating rituals. My cock slid on his skin with an element of grace that made me grin. The joy for me was in the dichotomy of the the experience. My thick cock was about to violently pillage my victim’s asshole; all the while, here he was rubbing himself into me with his eyes closed.

“Fucking virgins,” I thought to myself, closing one hand around his neck and the other around his cock. “I know what you like.”

Pulling at the base of his cock while slowly increasing pressure around his neck I
felt
him moan. I was impressed, to be honest with you. His passion must have been strong, because the music was drowning almost everything out in one persistent beat. A moan like that came from deep inside of a person. Anyone whose body vibrated with the sound of their own desire was ready to be fucked. I was happy to oblige.

Releasing my hand on his cock, I slid my fingers around the side of his sweat soaked thighs. He had some hair, but the hair was thin, and the sweat was thick on my fingers. I could feel the slippery substance adhere to the tips of my fingers like it was offering itself to me. Wanting still more, I shoved my fingers briefly in the back of his throat.
“Taste your own desire, you whore,” I whispered, pressing down on his tongue. “This is why I’m going to fuck you. I’m going to own your body because you’re too much of a slut to know better.”

He gagged, and I smiled, feeling his struggle throat under the pressure of my fingers.

Naturally, I wanted him on the floor so I could pound the life out of his tender asshole, but I did my best to restrain myself. After all, I found it was usually a better practice to drag these things out as long as possible. The agony of anticipation made the final arrival all the more worthwhile. I had been an exhibitionistic performer before, but never to such a large audience. This was a prime opportunity to show this crowd exactly how vicious I could be. If things went right, I might have a new, eager asshole lined up for me every night of the week.

Drawing my finger out from his mouth, while still maintaining a firm grip on his neck, I spread his legs wider with the back of my hand. I had to shift my position so that my other hand wrapped around the back of his neck, but I was alright with a brief change. Besides, the new position helped provide me with enough leverage to bend him over at the waist. My hand shifted positions once more as we settled into our new posture. It was easier to grab at the roots of his hair and yank. I had more control this way, and could lead him around like a mare if I was so inclined. No.

More like a mule. Or a one trick pony.

My fingers, still wet with his saliva and sweat pressed into his asshole. I didn’t bother with one finger at a time -- patience like that was for the inadequate or inexperienced. While this little fucker at the end of my fist might have been both, I most certainly was not. With a little pointed direction, I pushed, feeling the muscles of his sphincter strain at my attempted entry. He was tight.

“Good,” I grinned, “That means this is going to be fun.”

The crowd was loud and unholy. There were simple spectators, and there were more active types. A situation like this is a taboo destroying context; that’s why it’s so powerful. My demonstration of power and sexuality at the hands of this submissive little fuck offered permission to others. My awareness increased as my fingers pressed upward, straining his asshole. I saw others were itching to join, but I warded them off with a silent claim to my victim. Now was not the time to share.

The only problem was that instead of bowing down and looking at the floor in ecstasy or pain -- I didn’t much care which, he looked at me. His eyes were so large and beautiful, that I almost felt bad for prepping him in such a harsh way. The very effort required to turn his head made me think twice about what I was doing. I could see the muscles in his neck strain. I felt the roots of his hair pull and even give as he strained to watch me penetrate him.

I hate to say it, but it threw me off my game for a moment. Even a single moment in an experience like that was unacceptable. When you were a Dom, you couldn’t afford to get caught in sentimentality. Make no mistake about it -- emotions are a trap, and if you pay them any mind, they will disrupt your flow. I couldn’t afford to let that happen. 

In order to regain control of myself, I had to shove him down to the ground. When his shoulders and cheek hit the warm tiles of the dance floor, my fingers slipped inside. I knew well enough not to start fucking him right away. I wanted him to acclimate to my presence. Pushing down deeper inside of him, I strained my knuckles against the entrance to his body. He was clear, even if he was tight.

“Good boy,” I said encouragingly.

The crowd went wild. I didn’t have to raise my head up from the task at hand in order to see the effect I was having on them. I heard them cry out, both men and women. They were encouraging me. They wanted this fuck as badly as I did. I smiled to myself, savoring the warmth and moisture of his asshole. He was practically mine. All I had to do now was ride it out and enjoy myself.

With my focus once more on exactly how I was going to fuck this one, I began to grow more technical in my approach. My fingers twisted expertly inside of him, feeling the wet walls inside of him. Moving my fingers inside of him, in a rhythmic motion, I watched as his anus pulled around my index and middle fingers in accordance with my movement. He moaned again, so I looked up to catch a glimpse of his facial expression.

“Eyes rolled back in your head,” I told him. “Look at you. You’re drooling on the floor like a lap dog.”

His palms were outstretched on the floor and with each breath, I could feel him moan all the way inside of his asshole. I knew he had taken drugs, but I had no idea how much. I could assume that he had gotten at least the same dose as myself. I was also fairly certain that he had gotten his drugs from Thomas as well. In truth, their proximity to one another on the rooftop was enough to tip me off. While I continued to twist my fingers inside of his asshole, I wondered exactly how much he had done. He was clearly overwhelmed, and at this point I doubt he was able to focus on anything except the feeling of being fucked.

Thomas had given me a mild dose of Foxy, a stimulating psychedelic tryptamine commonly used as an aphrodisiac. The standard name was 5-MeO-DIPT. I suspected at first that he had slipped me a tab of acid, but the body load of the drug was far too heavy. Another thing that tipped me off was the intense level of clarity in my perceptions. Most acid around this place tended to be extremely heady, and emotionally volatile. I felt none of those effects at all -- only a clear sense of purpose as well as a heightened physical sensitivity.

While pulling my fingers out of his ass just enough to entertain myself with the way his body practically begged me to push back inside of him, I remembered his eyes.

Well, at least one unexpected emotional change,
I thought to myself before shoving my fingers inside to the knuckle.

Having this eager young ass at my disposal was getting me more than a little riled up. My cock was standing at full attention. I even treated myself to brushing the head of my dick against the inside of his thigh. His asshole was loosening up, and it became increasingly easier to fuck him.

I noticed that his eyes were wider than when I last looked at his face.

How many did this guy take?
I wondered.

Looking down at his cock, I noticed that he was completely engorged with blood. His legs were spread wide to accommodate my fingers. With each penetrative push of my fingers, he worked his ass backward into my hand. He wanted more, and I knew exactly how to push him into excess.

Finally, I let go of the back of his hair. He sighed with relief, but was only able to find a moment’s rest. With a firm hand, I brought my other hand down between his legs and pulled his cock toward me. He was thick, and much larger than I expected. Naturally, my own cock was larger -- it was easy enough to compare the two when they were side by side. I brought my fingers up toward the base of his cock, and wrapped my hand around both his testicles and shaft. Squeezing and pulling his cock backward toward his asshole, I made him scream.

He dropped even lower to the ground with his chest, while struggling to raise his ass up higher in the air. He didn’t have the energy necessary to achieve any real progress and ended up leaning over to one side. I corrected his lean by redirecting his body. I found that his cock and balls were suited well enough to the task of maneuvering him toward equilibrium. Besides, I had control of the base of his spine. He wasn’t going anywhere.

“Drop down all you like, honey,” I told him, still steadily fucking him in the ass with my fingers. “Makes no difference to me; I’ll take what I want either way.”

The feeling of his cock in my hand was a beautiful experience. I wasn’t all about the ass, though that was my primary focus most of the time. It felt good to have another person’s cock in my hand, or even in my mouth. I don’t suppose it was for any other purpose but my own. A dark feeling of control and pleasure took over my brain. I began to stroke him, squeezing hard on the shaft while letting his testicles pull out from my grip one by one. Both times he winced, and both times his sphincter tightened around my fingers.

Sensitive…
I thought.
Perhaps more than I had realized.

I tugged on his cock once more, this time squeezing into him as I did so. He was dry, and I bet it hurt more than a little. He was likely too focused on my fingers in his asshole to be able to care about the condition of his cock. I had been working him steadily into a rhythm for what seemed like an endless amount of time.

Feeling somewhat compassionate, I spat on my hand before continuing to jerk him off. The lubrication worked wonders. I swear his asshole practically opened up for me when I started stroking his cock. My fingers were gliding in and out of him with barely any resistance. I also found that I could go deeper, since the muscles around his ass were no longer as tight.

“You’re about ready, then,” I said.

The members of the crowd nearby must have heard me, because a cheer rose in response. The music was still deafening, so maybe that wasn’t it at all. With my right hand on his cock, my left hand buried in his ass, and a head full of Foxy -- we had reached critical mass.
If they’re close enough to see, then I’ll have to give them something worth looking at,
I thought with a smile.

I released his cock from my grip, and let my fingers slip out from his asshole. He heaved a sigh of relief, and lay panting on the floor. Standing up, I posed for the crowd, putting my foot down on his back. With panache, I pressed his tired body to the floor and met the eyes of each person in the circle that surrounded us.

I wanted them to know who I was, and what I was capable of doing. They would all remember this night, and they would tell their friends. The tattoo on my chest offered them all of the information they would need.

The name was written in gothic print, with sharpened edges on each letter. When your calling card is your own body as I do, you tend to take pride in your appearance. My chest was waxed, and the lettering was raised on my pectorals. I thought I looked beautiful, standing sweaty and proud over the body of the fallen. My cock was firm and pulsed with the beat of the music.

“Take a good look!” I yelled to the crowd, smiling manically and walking around the body of my prey. “I think you’ll like what you see.”

“Who knows…” I shrugged. “You could be next.”

The crowd began to chant for me.

“Fuck! Fuck! Fuck! Fuck!”

I nodded and lowered myself over his body. He was helpless and wasted. Sweaty and uncontrollably aroused. His cute little ass squirmed right above my cock as I hovered above him. I leaned in and bit him on the neck while prying his ass cheeks to each side.

I pushed into him, slowly at first, feeling the pressure on the head of my cock. He was tight, even after the fingering, and my cock actually bent slightly while I tried to force my way in. Some people try to pause on the way in, and take it slow. Consideration for his comfort wasn’t my primary motivation. I wanted inside, and I wanted it now. Lowering my hips with expertise and power, I pushed through and broke him.

His body tensed up when my cock entered his asshole. I felt him squeeze me and arch his back. His hands gripped helplessly at the floor and his mouth was open wide. I hooked him with a finger and pulled on the inside of his lip with one hand. The other hand was dug firmly into his side.

He was warm, and I loved the feeling of being completely inside of him. My cock was in absolute ecstasy. Every thrust inside of him was tight. I could feel his asshole rub along the length of my dick. Inside of him, I felt depth and lust. I had to strain in order to hold back from fucking the living shit out of him right then and there. My cock felt incredible, and the feelings of warmth were spreading inward and up the length of my body.