Leonard

Imperio

Ending B

Like a Virgin
Or: The Many Rapes of Jonah Sutton

This is a continuation to the story Imperio about a man who hypnotizes a boy for sex. If you haven't read the beginning yet, then I strongly recommend you do so before reading this ending!

I stared at the naked child. His breathing was steady, his face blank, his mouth slightly ajar so that I could see the tip of his wet red tongue nestled between his white teeth. Gently, he rocked back and forth in rhythm with the Imperio, his mind open and empty and ready.

In a few minutes, I thought to myself, I am going to fuck this stunning little boy. This beauty with his sweet face, his soft, white, glowing skin, his slender shape… he is going to feel my cock surging inside him, using his body, pushing within him. I will be inside his virgin asshole and inside his virgin mouth.

What would it feel like for him? I imagined that every sensation would be raw and powerful and overwhelming as his whole body was subject to my lust. The confused boy would struggle, not understanding, but unable to stop it, unable to control what was happening to him. I ached as I imagined this future for the quiet, slack-jawed child who swayed slowly back and forth in front of me. He was so young, so innocent. He wouldn't understand what was happening to him, he would just experience it, raw and violent. I craved the strength and power of those emotions.

Then I got the idea.

"Jonah," I said, "can you hear me?"

"Yes, master," replied the soon-to-be rape victim.

"Jonah, when I tell you to wake up, you will be yourself again. You will remember everything. Do you understand?"

"Yes, master."

"There are only three commands you must obey when you are awake. The first command is that you will not leave the house. Do you understand?"

"Yes, master. I will not leave the house."

"The second command is that you will not bite me under any circumstances. Do you understand?"

"Um, yes, master," he said, confused about why such a command would even be necessary. "I will not bite you."

"The third command is that when I say the word Imperio to you, you will instantly fall back to this state, your mind under the control of the gem, open to every command that I give it. Do you understand?"

"Yes, master."

"Good," I said. "Then wake up, my little victim."

Suddenly, Jonah regained control of his mind. His eyes went wide and he stared at me, his mouth dropping open. I saw his hands go to cover his genitals as I put the Imperio away. I was calm. He stared, otherwise motionless.

"W-what did you do to me?" he finally asked in a small voice.

"Oh," I said, "you know exactly what I did to you, my little victim." I stood up then. He started in fear, drawing backwards, knocking over his chair and falling back. There was a loud CLACK as his chair crashed against the floor. His head hit hard, and his slender legs flew up into the air, a beautiful nakedness on display for me as he flipped end over end, landing in a heap on his stomach. He pulled himself up, tears of pain welling into his eyes.

"L-let me go," he said.

I took a step toward him, and he skittered away from me until his back was against the wall. "I don't think so, my little victim."

"Stop calling me that!"

I took another step towards him. He braced against the wall, pulling himself to his feet and cowering behind upraised hands.

"But that's what you are," I said, as I took another step, now only three feet away from the terrified boy. "My victim."

He stared at me, and then he made a run for it, hoping he could get past me. I reached out and grabbed the naked boy, drawing him up to me, his bare feet kicking uselessly against the floor. He struggled against me but it was futile. He was too small, too weak, his head only up to my chest, and I pulled the wriggling boy closer.

"Don't," he said.

"Don't what?" I asked, as I held him tight, hand firmly massaging his stomach.

"Don't," said the shivering boy.

"What don't you want me to do, Jonah?"

"I-I don't know," he said.

I knelt down next to him, my mouth now next to his ear. I pulled his trembling hands away from his hanging little penis, and I reached down to touch it. His whole body tensed at the touch, going rigid in my iron grip. Gently, I massaged his little organ.

"I'm going to rape you, little Jonah Sutton."

He sputtered, tense body shaking, snot starting to pour out of his nose.

"Do you know what rape is?"

The trembling boy shook his head.

I started to rub one hand back and forth along his cock and balls, while the other rolled along his stomach. The terrified child had stopped struggling. He'd just closed his eyes and put his head down, just trying to endure. "It's when I put myself inside you," I said to him. "When I put my cock into you, and your shaking, scared little body makes me feel really good. It's when I use you, little Jonah Sutton. My victim."

"L-let me go," he wailed.

Instead, I reached down and grabbed the 65 pounds [30 kg] of boy, one hand under his knees, the other under his shoulders, carrying his limp but still trembling body to my bed. I lay him down and started to strip off my clothes. He stared with astonished eyes as I casually removed my clothes and sat by his feet. In response, he pulled up his legs, bending his knees to make a kind of shield between me and the rest of his body.

"Oh no," I said. I grabbed his calves tightly, my hands digging into his flesh, and pushed. He tried to resist me but I easily overpowered the child and forced his legs apart, spreading them to reveal his privates.

"Mnnnuh," he grunted.

"I want to get to the good parts," I said, and I crawled up between his spread legs, pulling them apart further, and reaching in to start fondling his little boy's cock.

"No…" he said, distantly. His legs curled around me as if to try to go into a protective ball, except that I was in the way. "Don't."

"You have a beautiful body, little victim," I said. He trembled. My hands moved up to his stomach, blissfully playing with that smooth, gentle skin, kneading it, surrounded by his boy-fat. For a while, I indulged in that supple body while he moaned and sobbed quietly, dextrous body shuffling underneath my touch. "Please stop," he'd moan every so often, but he knew by now that it did no good as I continued to molest him.

After a few minutes of using the despairing child in this heaven, I paused. I crawled up above him, my body towering and covering his in shadow, until I reached his face. I held the palm of my hand out to his mouth. "Lick it," I said.

He shook his head, holding his lips tight.

I reared back and gave him a powerful slap on the stomach, leaving a red trace of my hands. He yowled and tried to ball himself up in a fetal position, but with me on top of him it was useless. "You don't choose what you do, victim," I announced. "Now, lick my hand!"

Slowly, tentatively, that tongue came out and started to lick the palm of my hand.

"Yes," I said. "Yes, good." I took my hand away after a few licks, smearing it along his still-red stomach, letting his saliva dry on his own skin. Then I crawled up his body until my stomach was level with his head, and I lowered myself down until my hairy stomach was just an inch from his face. My body dwarfed the boy's tiny form. "Lick my stomach," I said.

"Nnnnnnnnn…" he whined, but a moment later I felt the slick wetness of his tongue and the coarseness of his taste buds. He was licking my stomach, wet tongue folding down my body hair.

"Keep licking," I instructed the pinned boy as I moved my body left and right, and down, spreading his continuous licking over more and more of my torso, wetting down my hair.

"I'm tired," complained the boy. I reached down and slapped his belly again, not nearly as hard as before, but he jumped underneath me and he resignedly kept licking. Soon he was licking my erect nipples as I pushed them down into his face, letting my body weight press into the child.

"Hold up," I said gruffly, and he stopped. He stared up at me with terrified eyes, tear streaks running down those round boy's cheeks. I could see little body hairs stuck against his small chin and his upper lip. He was slowly shaking his head back and forth.

I pulled my legs up until I was straddling him with my thighs, my erect cock dangling above his face. "Now," I declared, "lick."

His eyes widened. "Please don't make me!" he shrieked.

I held up my hand as if to hit him, and the child relented immediately, shutting his eyes tight and reaching out with his tongue, licking my cock. The caress, the feeling was incredible. He had to hold my cock in place, using his warm little hand to keep it in position as his tongue ran up and down along it, licking, then retreating into his mouth to get more saliva, then licking again. His soft, supple, red tongue traced a winding path up my cock, delicate, tentative, licking back and forth while I moaned in pleasure. Up again, the firm tip of the muscle pressing against me while the soft, flat plane of his tongue bathed me in saliva. Up again came the tongue, licking me gently. Up again along the length of my cock. Up again.

"Open your eyes," I said. "I want you to see what you're doing."

The young boy obeyed, opening his eyes to the huge cock towering in his vision, throbbing, wet with his own saliva, his own little hand perched around it in a slight grip. Now with eyes open, the little angel licked.

A minute passed, an eternity for the child as he obeyed my sexual demands. Finally, I had him stop. Sobbing, he pulled his tongue back into his mouth, a few pubic hairs going disappearing inside with it.

I reached underneath his body, my hands grasping the fat of his butt and the curve of his back, and I roughly turned the boy over on his backside.

"Wh-what now?" he asked.

"Now I rape you, my little victim!"

"B-but… but… what have you…"

"That was the warm up," I said to the child. "Now, the main event!"

Suddenly, he kicked out with his legs and scrambled up the bed. Looking frantically around him, the naked boy darted to the right away from me and out the bedroom door. He ran down the hallway, but I was right behind him. "Let me go!" he shouted as he ran, but I reached out and grabbed his arm with my hand. The boy's momentum carried him forward, slipping off his feet, but I held onto his arm and he was pulled backwards, legs skidding off the floor. When he'd finally come to a stop, I was grabbing his arm by the shoulder and he was seated on the floor, legs sprawled out in front of him. He was bawling.

"Get up!" I shouted. I pulled up on his arm, forcing the boy to his feet. "You're mine."

"Don't!" he was crying. "You can't! You can't!"

I grabbed his other arm and held them both behind his back, marching the boy back to the bedroom. He held out his feet, trying to slow us down, wedging his bare toes against the door frame to try to keep from going into the room, but I lifted him in the air and pulled him through. "Ow!" he shouted, as his toes were wrenched to the side against the wood.

Still holding the naked boy, I marched him to my dresser to get some lubricant, and then back to the bed where I threw him down on his belly. With one hand roughly holding down his back, I used the other to squeeze some lube in the vicinity of his asshole, then put the tube to the side and started to spread it around with my finger.

The boy squirmed underneath me, desperately trying to pull free. "What are you doing?" he asked, voice muffled against the bed. "Stop it! Stop touching me there!"

"I will touch you wherever I want to, victim," I snarled.

"No!" he shouted. "No, you can't, you can't!"

"I think I can," I said. "Now, let's see what it feels like when I stick my finger in."

"N-noahhhhhhhhhh!" he shouted as I started to force my way in. "No, please!"

"Oh, yes," I replied. "Do you feel me inside you, you little cunt?" I twisted my finger around inside his ass, and he squirmed, shaking his butt in the air. "Do you?"

"Y-yes!" he squeaked.

"Yeah," I said, pushing the finger in deeper into that virgin asshole. "Yeah you do!"

"Ah!" he shrieked. "Ah! It hurts!"

"I bet it does," I answered, pushing in deeper. His whole body went rigid as I invaded it, tense arms pressing into the bed.

"Oh yeah," I continued, "feel that, you little bitch."

"Uhhhhhhhhh," he moaned, still squirming as my finger moved within his intestines.

"So," I said, now sliding my finger in and out of that virgin asshole, widening it in preparation, "I've decided on your punishment."

"P-punishment?" he asked.

"Yes, my little victim. Your punishment for being a bully to my nephew, Trevor."

"I… owwwwwwwwww!" he cried.

We were, of course, well beyond any reasonable punishment for being nine years old and a bully. But it didn't really matter. "Now I get to molest you and rape you and do whatever I want with you," I announced to the boy who was lost in his own personal misery. "But first," I said, "tell me what it feels like to have me inside you."

He lay there, sobbing as my finger probed him. I shoved it in more aggressively, and I was rewarded with a grunt of pain as his toes extended in agony. "Tell me!"

"Guh… guh… guh…" he was gasping. "It hurts!"

"Yes," I said, "I bet it does. Is it ripping you apart?"

"Y-yeah," he said.

"Do you feel every movement of my finger in your bowels? Every motion as it moves inside you?"

"Yes!" he exhaled.

"And is that feeling, the feeling of a man inside of you, that's your whole universe? That's everything you can think about?"

"Y-yeah…"

I nodded, and retracted my finger out of the stretched asshole. Jonah lay on the bed, gasping madly. Had he given the right answers? Is that why the man had pulled back? He couldn't think; he just tried to breathe, tried to do anything to relax.

And then I shoved in with two fingers.

"Auuuuuuuuuuuughhhhhhhhh!" he shouted.

"That's right, little victim," I said. "Feel it."

"P… yaaaaaa… please… auuuuuuuugh…" He was shaking, squirming every which way, trapped by the two fingers I had inside his asshole.

"Do you know what you are right now?" I asked.

"Muuuuuuu…"

"You're a virgin," I said. "You haven't ever had sex before."

"Buh," he grunted as my fingers pushed in.

"That's why it feels so powerful to you. You've never gotten used to it. You've never learned how to take it."

"Auh, please, please… YAH!" he screeched as my fingers pressed in.

"And now I will rape you whenever I want."

"No…"

"But that's not all, my little victim, because when this is done, I'm going to make you forget everything that happened to you. Just like that. So that each time I rape you, and it will be many times, each time you'll feel it like for the first time, and each time, I'll get to feel your fear and pain anew."

Jonah did not reply, he just lay there, face-down into the pillow. He seemed to just be staring into it, not answering, uncomprehending, unable to fit these experiences into his little child's world. I could still get a response out of him, though; I twisted my fingers in his asshole, and the boy grunted.

Slowly, I removed the fingers, and he twitched. He was stretched enough, I decided. I ran my hand all the way down his bare, sweaty back, along the shivering boy's smooth body. "And now it's time," I said. "Time for you to lose your virginity for the first time."

The boy turned his face to the side on the pillow, presumably so that he could breathe. I saw the pillow I'd been mashing his face into before, wet with his own tears and snot and drool. Now he was crying, tears flowing down his innocent little face. I marveled at how big my hand was on his tiny back.

My body was huge next to the child as I knelt behind him.

I lined up my cock.

And then I pushed in.

The child came alive. His whole body thrashed as I invaded it. "Yaaaaaaaaaaaaaaa!" he shouted.

"Just think about it," I said into his screams, shoving my cock deeper. "Every day after school, I might be there, ready to rape you again." Still I slid further into the jerking boy. "You won't know it's coming. You won't be ready. I will simply come and make you mine."

With a savage thrust, I got still deeper in.

"Ohhhhhhhh-huh-huh-huh," he cried.

"Again," I said, pushing into his ass, "and again," and I pushed, "and again!"

I was all the way in, the boy's once-virgin ass stuffed with my dick, impaled upon me. Thrusting my hips back and forth, I started to slide my cock in and out of his tender hole, squeezing it through the tight space.

I leaned forward and yelled into his ear, "Yeah, feel me inside, feel me inside you little bitch, feel me using your little body, feel what it's like to have sex with a man, FEEL IT!" Then he turned his head away from me, facing back against the pillow damp with his own fluids, face pressed against the mixture. Still I slid my engorged cock through his rectum, still I felt his tight muscles pressing on it, still he whimpered and cried out and moaned as I took his body, and took it, and took it, his whole life centered on nothing but my cock shoving in and out of him. He felt me surge within him, an ocean buffeting him from within, filling him up, casting him from side to side. He felt his insides ripped up inside him, pain and feeling echoing through him, a pummeling from within his own body.

In the throes of pleasure, I thrust my hips forward, shoving my erect cock deep within the boy, all the way in, pushing as hard as I could for that little bit of feeling, and then I came, a sea of cum spewing out into him as the cock did new damage with its orgasm, shoving his organs aside for its pleasure, cum spewing out into him. He twisted as new feelings welled up within him. "Auuuh!" he shouted into the pillow. I humped my hips, shoving deeper with each orgasmic push, grabbing every inch of pleasure that I could. I felt each push of his tight muscles against my orgasming cock, heard the squelch of the cum, felt the slickness as my cock slid within him where I had planted my seed.

"Ohhhhhh," I gasped, "take it, you little bitch."

Eventually the sea of cum ended, and I collapsed on the boy's tiny body. He was spent: slick with sweat, tears and snot running down his face, eyes red with strain, used and hurt and exhausted beyond all measure. I could feel him breathing below me, could feel the warmth of his skin, the bumps of his shoulder blades rising and falling as the wrecked boy tried to recover.

"Imperio," I said.

And that was the first time I raped little Jonah Sutton.

***

Fantasy #2 was the very next day. A quick and brutal rape on an unknowing, unsuspecting boy.

Jonah was walking home from school. In his bent and broken mind, reshaped to my will, he didn't know what we'd done yesterday. He thought he'd spent it running around on the playground with friends, not being hypnotized by a pervert. He thought his limp was from an injury on the field. He didn't know me. He didn't even remember giving himself an enema earlier that day at my command, so he'd be ready for tonight.

"Hey kid," I asked the boy as I drove up, "want a lift?"

"Uh, thanks man. Sure!" said Jonah, all innocence. I'd commanded him to take my ride offer, and now he climbed happily into my car.

I started driving. "This isn't the way home," said the boy.

"I just need to stop at my place."

"Maybe I should just walk."

"It won't take too long," I insisted.

"Mister, please," he said.

"Shut up!" I shouted.

The boy quieted for a moment, but then he spoke again. "If you just pull over, I can get out and walk."

I did pull over. But before Jonah could open the door, I grabbed him by the neck. "Listen, you little shit," I said to the suddenly frightened child. "You're in my car. You're going to obey my rules, and that means you're going to sit quietly until we get to my place. You go home when I say you go home."

"Let me out!"

I punched him across the face. Hard enough to snap his head back, hard enough to make a trickle of blood come down from his nose. "Anything else you want to say?"

He stared back at me, eyes wide, terrified. I grabbed his left wrist and held it tightly with one hand while I drove with the other. He knew what it meant. He wasn't going anywhere.

"Wh-what are you going to do to me?" he asked.

"You say another word, I hit you again but harder. Now shut up."

For the rest of the ride, the boy shivered in terror. His small hand trembled, held in my vise-like grip. I could feel his accelerated pulse, see the fear in his eyes. He stayed quiet, imagining in his mind what might happen to him when we finally arrived.

We got to the house, and I dragged him out of the car. As I opened the door, he tried to make a run for it, but I grabbed him by the shoulder. "You tryin' to get away from me, kid?"

"Mister, please, I just want to go home!"

"You'll get home," I said, "eventually."

I pulled the boy into the house, enjoying the hell out of his trembling little frame, his scared eyes, his flushed cheeks. Each time he tried to pull his wrist out of my grip, my cock just got harder, ready to punch into him once again. Finally I closed and locked the door, and then I threw the boy to the ground with relish as he thudded down.

Jonah rolled over a couple of times and landed on his back. I walked right up next to him, towering over him, and I planted a foot possessively on the boy's chest. He stared up at me, still trembling uncontrollably and starting to sob.

"What's your name?" I asked the prone boy. I knew it, of course, but I wanted the illusion to be complete for him that this was the first time.

"J-J-J-Jonah."

"All right, J-J-J-Jonah," I said, sneering his name. "You're mine to play with now." I removed my foot. "Now stand up, little slut."

The boy stared up at me.

"Do it!" I shouted.

He scrambled, rolling over onto his front side and pulled his quivering legs up underneath him. When he first put weight on them, they buckled underneath him and he fell back down. He tried again and this time they held. He stood up and turned to face me, still wobbling on his feet, his face ashen white.

"Now take off your shirt, J-J-J-Jonah."

His eyes widened, and he tried to back away. I grabbed him by the wrist, pulled him close, and slapped him across the face.

"Ahhh!" he shouted. "Stop, let me go!"

I grabbed his face tightly with my right hand, thumb and forefinger on each cheek, soft flesh melting away as I pressed painfully into his jaw. I turned his pinch-cheeked face to look at me and I leaned down just a few inches from his face. "Listen, you little bitch," I said. "I'm done playing. I'm going to use your body like a fucking toy. Now you better do what I say, or you better start praying you survive the night."

The terrified child stared up at my with wide eyes and a reddening cheek. His lower lip trembled. Tears started to well in his eyes.

"Well?" I said, rearing up to strike him again.

He recoiled, and quickly he reached his tiny hands down and started to pull up on the shirt, lifting it up over his head.

"Drop the shirt on the floor," I instructed, and he did. "You're everything I want, little slut, just what a beautiful boy should be. I bet the rest of you is just as nice." I pulled him close again, his body right up against mine, his back to my front, and I started to run my hands greedily along his chest and tummy, hungrily feeling along his soft, trembling flesh, reveling in the delight of his skin, what felt like acres of perfect, smooth boy-flesh, pressing my hands into that softness. Huge man's hands slid along that little boy stomach. His breathing was fast and shallow, and so loud, I could hear him desperately pulling in breaths, I could feel the pulse of his stomach with each inhalation.

"I'm going to fuck you so good," I said, still feeling along that tight skin.

"S-s-stop, stop, stop touch-touching me-me," he forced out through his trembling lips, a gasping rush of words.

I leaned down and licked his ear, and even bit it lightly, still fondling every inch of his trembling, exposed body. "Now why would I do that?"

"P-please," he squeaked, little body frozen in place while my hands wandered all over it. I loved his warmth, his slender form, four and a half feet tall, so small against mine. That tiny body shook in terror.

Slowly, slowly, my hands maneuvered down to his jeans, where one of them landed on top of his little cock and balls. Through the jeans, I started to massage them.

"Nnnnnoo, stop," he said.

My hand continued to grip his privates through the denim. "I'm going to touch you anywhere I want, little fucktoy." I unzipped his fly.

The child panicked. He started flailing, trying to kick me, hit me with his arms. With my other hand, I punched him in the gut. He would have toppled over, but my other hand had grabbed his balls through the jeans and held on, and so he swung back, howling in pain, tears streaming down his cheek.

"Listen, you little bitch," I growled. "You try to punch or kick me again, and I'm going to show you just how much I can hurt you. Now you're going to stop whining, and stop resisting, and let me do whatever the fuck I want to your body or you're really going to regret it. Do you understand, you little piece of shit?"

My hands were still clenched around his little marbles, and he nodded his head weakly. I let go of him, and he collapsed to the floor. In an instant, I was on top of him, undoing the button of his jeans, lowering them down to reveal pure white briefs and succulent, beautiful, hairless legs. The legs of a nine-year-old boy, curved, shapely, and tender. I pulled off the jeans, and now Jonah was wearing only the briefs and the socks.

"Oh God, oh God," he whispered. "Help me, please, help me…"

My greedy hands felt down his thighs, feeling the amazing smoothness, the perfect, soft flesh. I reached down and licked his stomach, rising and falling in panicked little bursts with each rapid breath. Then I reached down and I grabbed his underwear.

"Nooooo!" he shouted.

"Fuck yes," I answered. I tugged it down. He tried to spread his legs, tried to make it hard for me to pull them off, but I slapped his balls and, one shriek later, he let me remove the underwear fully. Now his only clothing were those white, white socks.

"Magnificent," I said. I turned him over then and took a bottle of lube out of my pocket, and I spread it on his ass.

"What are you doing?" he asked.

I didn't bother to answer. Instead, I started to work a finger into it, feeling around, spreading it, getting it ready. He must have been so sore from yesterday, but he didn't know why.

"What are you doing?" he asked again, more panicked. "Stop it! That's my butt!"

I barked a laugh, and shoved the finger in deeper. His body shook and shuddered underneath me. "Yahhhh!" he shouted.

I was merciless. One finger, up to the first joint, then the second joint, then the knuckle, feeling around, squirming within the helpless boy. He writhed on the floor, legs and hands sliding along the unforgiving stone floor as his body tried to find any position, anything to release the agony. His feet, still in those white boy's socks, slid along the floor as he spread and narrowed his legs, trying to release the pressure in his anus. Meanwhile, I didn't talk. I just worked on the scared little brat while we had this experience together. Eventually, he stopped writhing and just lay there moaning as my finger explored.

Then I put in my second finger.

"Mmmmmm!" he grunted. His body went rigid and straight as the second finger first inserted itself, a delicate thin boy spread out on the floor. Then he started twisting and wiggling as my two fingers worked deeper and deeper into that waiting ass. Flexing, bending, exploring every little bit of this tiny unstretched boy's anus. "Merrrr," he cried. Agony flowed through him. It was everything I wanted, the boy totally at the mercy of his physical body, totally engulfed by the feelings and emotions of sex and rape, his mind focused only on me and the experience he was having.

Finally, finally I pulled my fingers out. He gasped at the release, face wearing a dazed expression. "Is it over?" he asked, high-pitched voice shaking, cracking even higher. "Can I go home? Please?"

Still I didn't answer. I just roughly turned the listless boy over again so he was on his back against the hard floor. "Please…" he said. His arms flopped to his side. I grabbed his ankles and raised them up, folding him like a piece of paper until his feet were dangling over his head. Holding his legs up with one hand, I used the other to matter-of-factly apply lube to his ass.

"Wh-what are you doing? S-stop doing things there, it hurts…"

Once the lube was on, I positioned my long, thick, waiting cock to go into his asshole. "This," I said, "is called being fucked."

I shuffled forward, the tip of my cock right at the puckered opening of his ass. With a grunt, I started to push in.

The truth is, I don't know what it feels like to be raped. I don't know what it felt like for Jonah to be so confused about what was happening to him. To be so terrified of me. To be so powerless, even over his own body, to feel it violated, penetrated, and used for the pleasure of another person.

What I do know is that the head of my cock pushed into that virgin ass and it was warm and tight and perfect, and I felt it squeeze against my sensitive tip. Jonah howled in fury and pain and frustration. He howled as he felt me enter him, dominate him, make him mine. His agony was my delight; "ooooooh," I moaned.

Jonah was in a haze, his head lolling back and forth at the onslaught. His body squirmed, but I kept his legs folded up and there wasn't really much the little boy could do. He moaned and cried out, and still more of the cock disappeared inside his body.

"Ahhhhh!" he cried out. "It hurts! It's bigger!" Bigger than my fingers. Yes, it is.

I gripped his body tightly as I pushed further. "Ah! Ah! Ah!" he cried again. Deeper and deeper my cock went into him. The head was all the way in now, and more. I felt the pressure, the walls of his intestines pushing up against me.

"Ah! Ah! It's…"

Deeper, deeper into the waiting little ass. Inexorably sliding forward.

"too…"

Deeper, sliding, deeper. More and more of it in that ass, that profound tightness, pushing on my cock from all ends, engulfing it in the most profound pleasure.

"big!!!"

Suddenly, I shoved hard and it pressed forward, piercing through all his resistance. My cock just sunk into the little boy, slipping in on the lube, sliding through his ass, an abrupt penetration that wrecked his little body and left him screaming. "GUUUUUUUUUUH!" he shouted.

"Oh fuck!" I shouted back. And now that I was in I mercilessly started pulling my cock out and then shoving it in, gaining speed, taking his body for all it was worth. As my long, hard dick punched in and out of the boy, I felt the tightness rub against me, the friction through the lube stimulate me as I pulled out almost all the way and then burst back in.

"Oh God, it hurts! It hurts! It hurts! It'll break, stop!"

In, out, in, out of the tight little boy's ass. I heard slurping sounds of the lube and juices and tight space. Moans and cries and shouts. I felt the writhing of boy's body, held in sway to my hyper-stimulated cock. His head lolled back and forth, face scrunched up in tears. He was panting and crying, smooth, naked stomach rising and falling furiously with each labored breath. His naked legs, raised up so uncomfortably, rocked back and forth, flexing with each new penetration. His exposed cock and balls jiggled each time I pushed his willowy little body. His feet, still covered in those white socks, bent and flexed and stretched out with each overwhelming sensation. His body was in thrall to mine, a part of mine, his muscles and nerves linked with my muscles and nerves, responding only to the stimulation I gave them. I am sure he was not even fully aware of his world anymore, not thinking anymore, in thrall to these overwhelming feelings that were his entire existence.

I moaned in pleasure, feeling the constant flexing of his asshole around my cock.

I shoved my cock in and pulled it out, shove in, pull out, shove in, pull out, and then I just shoved it in and held it, held it in that tight, warm, wet space, held it deep, my hands gripping his legs tightly, pulling his body against mine, pulling him deeper on my cock even as I push the cock deeper in, our bodies united in this profound experience. "Nrgh!" he grunted as I held deep in that asshole, bare legs shaking with the pressure. Again I pulled out and then shoved in one more time, and held it, deep in that tiny asshole, held my cock all the way in, and finally, finally I came. I felt it spurt out hot and fiery and desperate, cum that had been waiting all day, so much of it in spurt after spurt and thrust after thrust, deep in that little boy's ass, ripping into him one last time. It flowed out, flowed into that ass, settling deep inside the boy to sit in his bowels.

"Ohhhhhh," I gasped in release.

Jonah was a blubbering mass of boy, red-faced, snot and tears liberally flowing. He had experienced the rape so totally, it had been his entire being as he felt himself used and abused for the pleasure of another, as he felt his body become something other than his own. He curled up into a little ball, cum starting to ooze out of his abused asshole. "Can I go home now?" he whispered quietly.

"No," I answered. "We haven't used your mouth yet."

***

The fifth time I raped him was in his house. My fantasy was being the silent intruder, no context, no help, no words. Just our two bodies, entwined and enslaved.

Each time I'd raped him, I had made him forget. He had lived the past week and a half being regularly raped but then forgetting it. He didn't know why he had these strange pains, and he had strange gaps in his memory, but he probably didn't think much about it. I wanted the natural boy to fuck, so I had only minimal commands in his brain, preventing him from biting me or revealing anything to adults that might raise suspicion. His family, his parents and his older brother, were now also under my control, guaranteed not to interfere. Soon I would bring in his doctor, too, because I wanted to make sure the much-abused boy got a checkup soon so that he could be… more abused.

Anyway, that would be for later. I walked into his bedroom, and he woke up at the sound of the door. "Who're you?" he asked, sleepily. He was tucked in underneath the covers, his cute, round face poking up from underneath. His eyes were bleary, half-closed, and his light brown hair was wild and messy against the pillow.

I didn't say anything. I just stepped up to the bed, reached down, and stripped the covers off of him. "Hey!" he shouted, trying to grab them, small hands unable to hold on to the sheets as I pulled up. "What're you doing?" He was exposed now, barefoot, wearing these cute kangaroo pajamas that his grandmother made for him. The pajamas were loose-fitting and comfortable, ready to reveal the delicate child underneath.

"What's going on?" he said more forcefully, rolling off of his side and starting to sit up. "You look like a dream…"

I smiled. Maybe the memory wipe wasn't perfect. Regardless, I leaned down, grabbed around the child's waist, and started to pull off his pajama top.

"Hey, stop it!" he shouted, confused at this strange man in his house. I looked stonily at him and slapped his face.

The boy looked shocked. He had no idea who I was. "Mooooom! Daaaaaaaad!"

Of course they didn't hear him. Or, rather, they ignored it, as I told them to. I slapped him again.

"Heeeeeeeeelp! Ryan! Ryan!" He was calling for his older brother.

I slapped him a third time. He started to cry again, this boy who cries so much but doesn't even remember it. He must have wondered why his parents hadn't come, wondered what was happening to him. But his attention soon shifted back to me, because I grabbed his wrists and I forced his arms up above his head. He struggled against my grip, pulling his wrists against the vise of my hands, but it was no good, and while I held his arms with one hand, my other grabbed around and started pulling the pajama top up and over his head and arms, revealing his beautiful, slender stomach and chest that I know so well, that bronzed, creamy color of golden honey.

He grunted from underneath the fabric as it covered his little face, and then I pulled up and through with both hands and got it off his arms so that he was completely naked from the waist up.

I grabbed his wrists again, holding his little body helpless once more. Still he yelled, trying to get his parents' attention. It was time to shut him up.

I grabbed his tiny little boy's balls through his pajama bottoms and I SQUEEZED. He yowled in agony and clenched his legs up into a fetal ball, or as best as he could do; with one hand I was still holding his wrists, forcing his torso to stretch out even as he tried to curl up for protection; and with my other hand, I was still gripping his testicles, reaching right into the center of the curled-up boy. Finally I stopped. He looked at me with tears in his eyes. I made a "shhhhh!" gesture. He got the message.

He trembled as I removed his pajama bottom, but offered little real resistance, cowed by the pain. His perfect, smooth, delicate body is spread out in front of me.

This time I did it doggy style. I positioned the frightened boy on his hands and knees, lubed him up, and readied my cock at his asshole. I'd planned this, and even though he didn't remember any of his prior rapes, I thought he was stretched enough. With one gigantic push, I started shoving in.

I'd always gone slowly before, at least at first. Not this time. This time the cock started oozing into his ass at a steady pace, penetrating right into his bowels, and with a push I made it faster, shoved with real force and speed, and in a moment I'm all the way inside him. Two nights ago, when I had done my bedroom rape scene but gone more slowly, the boy had just cried into his pillow while I took his ass; this time he shouted out in pain, redfaced with agony splitting him apart while I rammed into him.

Once the whole length of my dick is inside him, I started pulling out, then diving all the way in again. Out, in, out, in, the whole length of my dick sliding within him in that tiny, tiny boy's asshole. His body tensed with each attack, winced in agony, moaned in pain, but he never cried out again.

"Ah! AH! W-what are you doing?" he asked as I fucked him. I didn't answer.

"Please, mister, stop it," he begged between sobs.

When I was finally done, when his ass was once again dripping with my cum, I got up. I watched as drops of milky-white cum slowly worked their way out, gently oozing down to his ballsack and eventually onto the bed. The naked boy cowered on the bed, not sure if it was done yet. I dressed myself. He stared up at me, confused and quiet. He tried to pull on his clothes; I stopped him.

And then, I spoke the word I programmed into his mind, the word that, for the next hour, clears his memory.

Suddenly he remembered everything. The Imperio. The way I control his mind. All five of his rapes in all their detail. How it felt, each time, to be raped for the first time. The terror, the uncertainty, the helplessness.

It was a crushing weight of memories that made him realize this was not the first time, nor would it be the last.

He looked up at me, fresh tears in his eyes once again as he relived the abuse. I sat down on the bed next to him, ruffled his hair, and held him close. Despite himself, he released into my embrace and cried into me. After all, I was the only person in the world who really knew what he was going through.

"My poor, poor little victim," I said.

My dick was growing long again; I'd have to take him one more time before I go, this time with his full knowledge of what was happening to him.

"Happy birthday, Jonah," I tell him. He's ten years old today.

***

What must it be like, to be a virgin boy getting fucked? Each time terrified. Each time to feel someone literally going into your body. It's not just that I'm touching the parts of your body I should not touch. I am inside you. Your cock, your ass, those are called your 'privates', and already they are mine; what does it mean when I go beyond 'privates' to be within your body? What kind of privacy does that break? What does it say about who you are, what you are, that someone can just go inside you whenever they want, no matter how much it hurts, and leave you crying, broken, ruined on the floor? And then they do it again? What does it mean to be utterly and completely dominated in that way?

There must be so much confusion. You're unsure what's going on, but certain that it's bad, certain that it's wrong, certain that you're being turned into something else. Someone is taking your humanity away.

Again. And again. And again.

***

One of my fantasies has always been to violently grab a boy off the street, either to rape him right there or to kidnap him, lift up my 65 pounds [30 kg] of boy and carry him home and use him there. It's different from luring the boy into a car.

So every Tuesday and Friday, I programmed Jonah to take the long way home through the woods, off the usual trails. Then if I was in the mood on those days, I could lie in wait. It was secluded enough that I could fuck him right there, boy kneeling on the dirt and leaves and sticks, sucking me; or maybe on all fours, hands and knees in the muck, taking it up the ass.

If I wanted to play for longer, then I could kidnap him, grab him up as he walks through the woods. It's so out-of-the-way that I don't have to rush. I could let him struggle a bit, or even run away before I caught and tackled him, or even fuck him and then kidnap him. Sometimes it would even make him blame himself: why did he have to go there alone? (He wouldn't know he had a hypnotic suggestion to do so!)

The eleventh time I rape him is a Friday. I had decided to make a weekend out of it, grabbing him in the woods and then driving somewhere private where we could fuck under the beautiful open sky.

I came up on the boy while he was walking through the woods, and I grabbed him from behind. I put one hand around his face, holding his mouth shut, while I used the other to grab his waist and lift him off the ground. He was suspended in the air, feet dangling, flailing, trying to kick me or get purchase on anything. I'm sure he could barely breathe as he struggled in my arms. "Mmmmph!" he mumbled through my grip on his jaw. "Mmmm mmmm mmmph!" Of course, there was nothing a just-turned-ten-year-old boy can do to a powerful full-grown man almost two feet taller than him and much heavier, and for a moment I just relished my hold on him, his hot, youthful body struggling in my arms.

I could probably have scared him into being quiet, but I like the struggle. His hands were grappling with me, fumbling at my much bigger hands, trying to pry them loose so that he could run off. I carried his body to a tree and pressed him against the rough bark. "Ow!" he exclaimed. With the child pinned against the tree, I pressed one hand into the small of his back, holding him there tightly. I took my other hand off his mouth and he started to shout. "Hey, hey, let me go! You've got the wrong person!"

"No," I said, using my free hand to grab his left wrist. "I have exactly the sexy little boy I want."

"No," he said, "stop, my parents are going to…"

"You parents are going to do shit," I answered. I maneuvered his left hand around to his back, pinning it there. Now I could use one hand to hold his wrist in place and press his body into the tree, keeping him from running away.

"Don't… don't…" he repeated. Meanwhile, I grabbed his other hand and held it against his back as well. With one hand, I pinned both wrists and pressed them hard into his body, holding him in place. With the other hand, I grabbed some rope out of my pocket, and I started to loop it around his wrists.

"Wh-what are you doing?" he asked.

"Tying you up, whaddaya think?" I pulled on the loops around his wrists, forcing the tender little limbs together and tightening it painfully.

"Ow! Why?"

"'Cause I don't want you trying to run away or doing anything stupid." I grabbed the partially-tied boy and pulled him off from the tree, then shoved him forcefully down to the ground. He landed roughly on dried leaves and twigs and gasped as he touched down. He tried to skitter away but I was already holding him, and soon I was looping more rope around his ankles.

"I don't wanna do this," he said. "Let me go."

"Boy, I don't think you'll want to be doing much of anything we do this weekend, but that's not going to matter."

"Th… this weekend?" he said.

"That's right, kid."

Like with his wrists, I pulled on the ropes around his ankles to tighten them. "Yeow!" he exclaimed.

I let go for a moment, and the boy struggled against the restraints, trying to break out of them. For a minute, I just watched as that beautiful body wiggled around on the ground, hands and feet tied, unable to escape. He rolled over onto his back but found that it only made things worse as his weight pressed down on his hands, so he rolled back again to be on his belly.

"It hurts," he said.

"I'll bet," I answered. I knelt down next to him and grabbed his ankles, pulling his legs up behind him. I did the same for his wrists, pulling them next to the ankles. "Guuuuuwa!" he grunted. "You're stretching me!"

He was right. His whole body was curved backwards into an almost-circle. His belly was sticking out, his chest and legs were curving up, and his thighs were no doubt pulled quite uncomfortably. I started to tie his wrists and ankles together to leave him hogtied.

"I can't move!" he said. It was not quite true: he was perfectly able to move his fingers, his wrists, his toes. But he was right otherwise. The rest of him was solidly held, and he was fixed in place.

"Good," I answered.

I finished tying him up and paused to admire my handiwork. The child was solidly immobilized, tied hands and feet hanging next to each other in the air. Reaching into the loop of trapped boy I had formed, I gave him a couple of good slaps on the butt and watched him wiggle, unable to move out of the way.

Finally, I reached around and put a ball gag into his mouth, wrapping the strap around his head and latching it in back. That was, I think, the moment when the reality started to dawn on him. He went from struggling against his capture to wondering what would happen next, and I saw him look up at me with wide, terrified eyes. My boy was ready for transport.

It was not easy – Jonah was not as light as I might have wished, and there's just no good way to carry a hogtied child. I briefly thought I should have gotten an eight-year-old instead! However, although I had to set him down a few times on the ground and it was thoroughly unpleasant for both of us, I managed to carry the struggling child to a nearby clearing where I had driven my car. I placed the hogtied boy into the trunk on top of a plastic tarp, where he was forced to balance on his stomach.

You might think transporting the boy was dangerous to me, but it was probably fine. It was already very unlikely that I would get pulled over on these empty streets. Moreover, I had a safeword that would instantly program Jonah to stay quiet (so as not to draw attention to himself in the trunk), and if found he would back me up in saying that this was just a pretend game based on a movie he'd seen, and his parents would agree if anyone contacted them. Fortunately, I never had to test these precautions.

I wondered, then, what Jonah must be feeling. The boy had no idea what was happening to him or what was going to be done to him. He'd been kidnapped by a strange man, roughly hogtied and put in the pitch black trunk of a car, and the car must have been shaking and bumping him around as it drove. He must've been so scared at that moment, trying to imagine what came next.

We arrived at a place I like called Callahan's Preserve. It's private property and it's not owned by someone named Callahan, so I don't know where the name comes from. It's beautiful, though, and more important it's deep in the woods with lots of no trespassing signs. The owner doesn't even live in the state, so no one would bother us.

I opened the trunk, and the tied-up boy blinked at me in the assault of light. There was a powerful stench. "Ugh," I said, "you peed yourself." He must have been really terrified. No matter, since that was why I used a tarp. I reached down and attached a collar and leash to his neck, tightening the collar around his warm little neck so that he could breathe, but he'd never forget it was there, and I fixed them both in place with a lock. Then, and only then, I released the gag and then the ropes around his wrists and ankles. There was a long red mark where the bonds had pressed into his skin. His limbs flopped down and he let out a relieved breath even as more pee soaked into his clothes, but I didn't give him any time to recover. I tugged on the leash. "C'mon," I said.

"P-please," he mumbled weakly, "don't hurt me."

"Move," I said, pulling harder on the leash. "Now."

He got himself up, pulling himself out of the car, stepping over the edge of the trunk and leaving a wet mark along the rear lights. I reached in and picked up the tarp carefully so as not to spill any pee in the car. He stood up and looked at the endless forest surrounding him. His slender body was shivering and covered in all kinds of fluids: sweat, pee, snot, and his own saliva. I would soon be adding another one.

"C'mon," I said again, and pulled him over into the woods, away from the dirt road my car was driving on. We went deeper and deeper into the forest, until we reached my intended campsite. It's a small clearing. I took him to the side of it.

"Take off your clothes," I told him.

"Ohmygod," the words tumble out of his mouth, "what?"

"I said, take off your clothes." My voice is calm. Quiet. Full of menace.

He looked at me, and I saw something click in his eyes. He understood. I knew that Jonah had no memory of his previous rapes, but even this innocent boy would have figured out that his body was about to be used somehow. That the man who brought him here, who asked him to take off his clothes, intends to do something with his naked body. I saw that sink into him, saw him finally get it on an emotional level. It was a moment I'd seen play time and time again in his eyes. He finally understood that he is my prisoner, and that there's nothing he can do about it.

The shirt takes the longest, because of the leash. We got the pee-soaked garment off around his head, then sliding it off along the leash. His shoes and socks come off, bare boy's feet now on the dirt ground, tender soles and toes wrapped around forest detritus. Then, with one more scared look in my direction, he dropped his pants, and finally, at my nod, his underwear. The clothes lay in a wet heap next to him, and the naked boy looked nervously around at the forest surrounding him.

Even though I'd used him several times now, I never got tired of his body standing in front of me, scared and innocent. Of the young, slender boy with the creamy bronzed skin, lighter where clothing covers it, nearly white where his underwear usually sits. The outline of his collar bone around his small shoulders. His lightly-curved stomach with its innie belly-button. Bare feet, dirt already accumulating between the toes, shuffling against the ground in nervousness. His cock, dangling freely in the light breeze.

I reached down to where I'd tightly attached a stake into the ground earlier, and I buckled the leash into the stake, locking it in place with another lock. Jonah wasn't going anywhere.

"Get on your knees," I told the captured boy.

"On the ground?" he asked, looking at the dirty floor.

I nodded, and those big eyes blinked at me once, twice. I saw him take some heavy breaths, and then I heard a sob, and then another. His face contorted in misery as he lowered his naked, pee-soaked body to its knees. The leaves dug into his kneecaps.

I left my pants on the ground as I stepped up to the kneeling, crying boy. My huge erect cock hung in front of his face. "My cock is going in your mouth," I told him. "You even think about biting it, and I'm going to shove needles into your balls. You understand?"

He nodded up at me. He was terrified, visibly shaking all over, teeth chattering.

"Open your mouth."

Tears streamed down his cheeks as he obeyed. I held his chattering jaw still, and then his warm mouth and soft lips were wrapped around my cock.

There's really something about fucking an inexperienced boy like this. Of course one who had been trained in cocksucking would be a lot better at the mechanics. But Jonah's body was so much more alive, so much more real. It had so much more energy to it. Those emotions flowing through him, the fear and uncertainty and the newness of it all, they made it a much more visceral experience. I could feel his heartbeat, his trembling, his breathing. His little body shook with each sob. Every flick of his tongue was one of inexperience, something new and different and uncertain. He might have been less polished, but this was what a boy should feel like.

Anyway, my cock was in his mouth. I grabbed his ears and pulled his head forward on the cock, shoving it in deeper. Then I pushed back. I pulled. I pushed. I slid his face along it, back and forth along my cock, stimulating me to new heights of ecstasy.

"Curl your tongue around it," I told him. (I'd tried a couple different ways of saying this each time I raped him, and I'd found that this conveyed what I wanted better than "run your tongue along it." Of course, I would experiment more in the coming months.)

He didn't do it, so I slapped his face. "Curl your tongue around it!" I commanded. Finally I felt the warm organ wrap around the tip of my cock.

Again I pulled his face forward and back along me. "Now suck on it," I told him. He started to do so. "Suck harder!" He sucked harder.

I spent a few minutes like that, the frightened, confused boy sucking on the strange and disgusting object in his mouth as I rocked his head back and forth. I could see that it was all too much. Fear had put him in an uncomprehending haze, doing, but not processing. He had given up any sense of agency or control. Things just happened to him.

I grabbed the side of his head and pulled, hard, slamming the tip of my cock to the back of his mouth. His eyes widened in shock. He coughed, and gagged, head jerking back and forth with each gag reflex. His muscles strained, trying to push his head back, and his hands shot out, pushing back against my body, but I held him firm, held his head down, my cock pushing against the back of his mouth. Finally I loosened a bit, letting his head slide back until only the tip of my cock was in his mouth while he sputtered and gasped for breath.

"I told you to suck!" I demanded, and the poor child started to suck again. "Tongue too!" I said, and his tongue again wrapped around my cock. Again I started pulling his head back and forth along the tip of my cock, in and out, stroking along it to give me pleasure.

After a minute I pulled abruptly, slamming his head deeper on my cock, the tip again reach to the back of his mouth as the boy gagged. Still I pulled harder on the helpless child, forcing his face down on my merciless dick. His head shook back and forth, and his face got red, and still he gagged and his chest heaved, but I held him, until finally I let him fall back, gasping for breath.

"Suck!" I demanded.

Gently by comparison, I slid his head back and forth along my cock, enjoying the warmth of his tongue, the slip of his saliva, the pleasure of his fear.

When my cock has been pleasured by him again, I reared up and PULLED, forcing him deep yet again, and this time I broke through, this time the tip of my cock slid down his too-small throat, curved into it, forced its way through. "Grk," gurgled the boy, astonished at something in his throat. But it was in; I pulled harder and harder and the cock slithered further down his throat. He was panicking, slamming his tiny fists into me, but still I pulled, pulled and slid in, slid deeper, my cock compressed in that too-narrow tube, still sliding in, sliding in. Deeper I went, and deeper, until it was all the way, my balls slapping against his chin. His eyes were popping out of his head; he could feel the thick cock in a place that was simply too thin for it, feel it taking up space inside his throat, just there within him, hovering there, not going down like food does. But there was nothing he could do as my cock stuffed his little throat.

Grabbing his head, I pushed it out a little bit, feeling my squeezed cock creep slowly part-way out of his throat. Then I pulled his head back, creeping my cock further into his tiny throat. Out, in, out, in, letting his throat massage the cock.

Finally I pulled it out, back so that just the tip hung in his mouth. He gasped desperately for breath, even as I still held his head on the cock. I slapped his face again. "Suck!" I said.

The terrified boy, caught in this world he did not understand, sucked.

Soon I pulled him down again, abruptly forcing him onto the cock, forcing the cock into his throat, feeling it crawl through his body. I held it there again, held the sputtering boy on my erect cock, and then finally released backwards and let him hold just the tip in his mouth, making him suck once again. Then again I forced him deep, cramming it down his throat.

I loved the feeling of the boy when he was forced to deep-throat me. I loved how my cock slid into his throat and was held there by its tight embrace. I loved the flicking of his tongue. I loved the wetness of his saliva. I loved the warmth of his face against my crotch, and the feeling of his body pressed against my thighs. I loved his tears glistening in my pubic hair. I loved knowing that he existed only to serve me. But above all, I loved watching him learn that truth, again and again and again.

Saliva and tears and precum dripped everywhere while I shoved him deep on my cock, then out, then deep on my cock again. His smooth cheeks were red with exertion, and his face and mouth were covered in bodily fluids that he could no longer control. I keep pulling him on, off, on, off, until finally I grabbed the back of his head again and I slammed him down on my dick, slammed him all the way, my cock in his throat as far as it would go. The boy shivered with fear and exhaustion; my cock pulsed with energy and cum. The boy cried in agony and despair; I moaned in pleasure and anticipation. The boy's hands clenched on my thighs in pain; my hands clenched on his head in passion.

I felt my cock twitch, ready to release its load, pulsing deep in the child's throat. "Nnnnnh," he moaned. And then the cock lengthened even further, even deeper down his throat, and it let out the first stream of cum right into his body, a torrent of steaming man-seed. His abused throat suffered each spasm of my cock as it stuffed itself into him. My orgasm overtook me, and I spewed my seed down his throat. He could feel the strange, thick, warm liquid as it stuck to the walls of his throat and oozed its way down. My cock owned his throat, filled it obscenely, and now I filled him with my cum.

When I was finally done, when I'd squirted all of my cum deep down the boy's gullet, I pulled out. He was coughing, desperately pulling breath into him. Maybe I'd held him too long.

He looked at me, and finally he realized I was done. At that, he simply collapsed onto the ground. Once he had feared the dirt getting on his knees; now he sprawled his body all over it. Where tears had streaked down his cheeks, now those paths became brown with mud. The boy lay on the ground, covered in pee, to say nothing of the sweat, tears, snot, and drool, and of course the thick cum oozing down his throat. He wept gently to himself.

I left him there, tied to the spot in his filth and misery and fear while I brought back a tent. He sat forlornly, watching me as I set it up. When I was done, I walked over to him and sat down next to him, fondling his waiting, dirty, used body. He just lay there limply while I did it. "My beautiful little bitch," I said.

After a while I gave him a quick bath to get him into a respectable state – we would visit a lake where I could wash him properly later, but for now I just used a sponge – and when I was done, I made a campfire so we could eat. That night, we cuddled together by the fire, my hands greedily exploring his whole wonderful exposed body. Eventually, I fucked him again, now up the ass under the clear stars while he howled like a wolf at the moon. As far as he knew, it was a new experience, a horrible capstone to an incredibly long day.

The next day, we went hiking. He was still naked; in fact, he hadn't worn any clothing since we arrived, a natural (and vulnerable) look for this natural forest. I watched his ripe little body twist and stretch as he picked his way over rocks and twigs and the strange forest floor barefoot. When he stepped in some animal droppings, I made him press onwards, walking with the disgusting stuff all over the sole of his foot, seeping between his toes.

We got to the lake, and I also stripped, and we went in together for a swim even as I held him on his leash. I cleaned off his slender body, and then sat on a rock a couple of feet below the surface, pulling the boy on top of me, fondling him there under the water, bringing him to erection. I felt the boy squirm on my lap. He though the feeling was pleasant for him, still he knew that his pleasure was for my pleasure.

Eventually we stepped out and sprawled on a big stone to dry off in the sun. I held my arm around the wonderful boy, and then I turned on my side to relax.

Of course, that's when Jonah tried to escape. He pulled himself to his feet and ran off, leash waving in the air behind him as his bare feet dodged over sharp stones.

Both naked, we raced through the woods, but of course I'm bigger and I caught up to him eventually. I grabbed the leash and it caught on his neck, pulling his head back and bringing him down to the ground with a loud "oof."

"Please," begged the prone boy, "let me go! I don't want to do this anymore!"

I picked the naked boy up off the ground, his bare legs flailing and kicking. There was a fallen tree nearby, and holding his body out in front of me, I went up to the tree and bent him over it, letting the rough bark dig into his tender skin. His own little feet hung a foot off the ground, bent over the curve of the tree, and his ass was at just the right height for my cock. His appealing body hung ready for me to fuck him.

This boy, this perpetually innocent boy, still knew what was coming because I'd fucked him last night. He knew it hurt. "No," he shouted, "no, please, I'll do anything, I won't run away again, please, mister, don't!"

I looked briefly at his wonderful body, stretched out over this log, his long smooth back bent around the curve of the log, his legs dangling helplessly. My hands reached down and spread his asscheeks. "No, no, no, please, no!" I positioned my cock for entry and started to push against him. My cock wormed its way into his asshole, the force of my thrusts shoving his delicate boy's flesh against the harsh bark of the tree. "Ahhhhhh!" he shouted, as I shoved my way in, the bark of the tree pressing deep into his tummy. I thrust my hips forward again and again, jamming my cock into that tender asshole, in the process slamming his cock into the tree, squeezing it between his body and the painful bark.

Again his body moved in thrall to my own, each motion of mine provoking a response in his. I thrust forward and his naked body was raked against the tree bark, sharp flecks of bark pressing into his skin. His toes curled up in pain; his hands clenched against the tree bark; he cried out in misery. I pulled back a little and he would gasp in relief, even though his chest would still scrape against the bark as it was pulled in the other direction. I grabbed his hips and slid him back and forth along my cock, and I watched as his body curled and writhed in response. My cock was planted inside his ass, squeezing in and out, invading him again and again and again. I thrilled not just at how tight his asshole was, not just at how warm and sweet it felt, not just at his smooth skin, but at our two bodies, locked together, united in pleasure and pain, a fusion of man and boy where the boy served the man.

Still I pumped in and out of him. Still I slid his slender body along my eager cock. "Nuuuuuuuuh," he cried, as another push of mine smashed his balls into the tree trunk. "Oooooooh," I moaned, as I thrust deep within him, my cock exploring within his body.

With a mighty push that slammed him against the trunk, my cock was all the way in, stretched out, and I felt the orgasm ready at any moment. I bent over the child, my body on top of his. "Are you ready?" I asked him. "Are you ready to receive my cum?"

I pulled out an inch and shoved back in, slamming his body against the trunk; out, feeling the suction of his tight boy's asshole, feeling the pull of his inner flesh against mine, and then in, cramming my cock within his tiny body, going all the way in until my balls slapped on his ass; out again, tight skin sliding against skin, so much pressure massaging and stimulating my cock so that it was ready to explode, and then quickly in, all the way in, pushing it in just as I started to cum.

My prick was jammed up his asshole, all the way up his asshole, and as the orgasm overcame it I pulsed within his body, my cock extending even deeper than it had been before. Each pulse made me thrust my hips into him, seeking an impossible even deeper penetration. His body, inexorably linked to mine, reacted to each push, each pulse, each thrust. As cum spewed into his asshole, he twisted and writhed, his body enslaved by my cock, his insides torn apart by it, his outsides torn apart by the tree bark. His hands balled into fists, and his feet slammed against the log, probably causing him even more pain. Each throb of my cock inside the boy made him jump, and each time the bark dug into his skin. "Ay ay ay!" he shouted with each pulse, with each stream of cum that entered into him, with each push of the cock that tore into his intestines.

Finally I was done, his ass stuffed full of cum once again, and I slowly pulled out. He stayed bent over the tree, too exhausted, too defeated to move. I pulled on the leash and he sprang back, falling to the ground in a heap. His whole front side was red from the pressure of the bark, and even bleeding in some places. His ballsack was red with the torture it had endured. I saw that he'd been rubbing against wet moss, and a part of his chest was slick and green with the moisture of the moss.

I got him up and marched him back to the tent, still naked, still on his leash, where I tended to his wounds. I wouldn't want him to get an infection! We watched the sunset together, beautiful boy in my arms. We ate dinner and I scared the child even more by telling him stories of other boys I've fucked. He didn't realize that they were all him, every single story, and he'd just forgotten. Finally we went to sleep, cuddled together, naked boy curled up against me.

We slept in on Sunday, and as I woke up he lay quietly while I explored his body. He's wouldn't object now, even as I fondled him, or kissed him, or even stuck a finger up his ass. Eventually we fucked, and then I spoke the word to let him remember everything, remember all the times we'd fucked. The exhausted boy, now fully aware of all that had happened to him, fully aware of his existence as a forever-virginal cum slut, helped to pack up the campsite and I drove him home.

***

There were other weekend-long trips, too. One Friday I grabbed him and took him to my house where I kept him for the weekend in a glorious fuck-fest. I tied him up and used him again and again. The boy was in a woozy state the whole weekend; he had no idea what was happening to him. Even though he'd been raped twenty-three times before, to him it was the first time. It was, by then, a normal weekend for us: I took him up the ass and down the throat, he begged and groveled. I threatened and beat him. When he wasn't tied up, I only let him walk around on a leash, on all fours. You know, the usual.

***

Rapes thirty-one, thirty-two, and thirty-three were a gang rape I organized with two other friends.

Rape forty-five was while he hung from chains after being whipped.

Rape fifty-nine was in his house, with his parents tied up and watching.

Rape sixty-four was on a family trip to Disney World.

Rape seventy-three was where he voluntarily offered himself to me so that I wouldn't hurt his brother, to whom I had a knife to the throat. (Of course, there was never any real danger.)

But most of the rapes were normal, whatever that means. In his bedroom at night. Out in the woods. At my house. In a car. I shoved all kinds of things up his ass. I shoved my cock down his throat any number of times. A few times, I brought him to orgasm, too. Each time, he thought it was his first.

***

The last one was rape number one hundred and sixty-two. He was almost twelve, and I knew he'd be too old soon. I wanted to make this a good one, so it lasts hours. I just came into his house in the afternoon and started using his body. Kissing him. Caressing him. Forcing him to do the same to me. We started at three in the afternoon; we were finally done past midnight. He'd given me a handjob, a blowjob, and I finished with a monster ass-fucking that took over an hour because I kept pulling out, letting myself get soft, and then going back in. When I finally came in that boy's well-used ass, I let out a roar of satisfaction as buckets of cum gushed out into him for one last time.

There was a question of how to leave him. Should I make him forget everything? Remember everything?

As the Imperio swung between us, I finally decided. "Jonah," I said. "Can you hear me?"

"Yes, master," replied the child.

"From now on, Jonah, you will remember everything I have done to you, do you understand?"

"Yes, master," he replied.

"But…" I said, "but… you will be happy about them."

"Happy, master?"

"Yes. When you think about them, you get horny. Even though you didn't like them at the time, now you do. Now you like rough sex. You wish you could feel a virgin rape again. You long for those experiences, those feelings, that intensity like nothing you have ever felt. Do you understand?"

"Yes, master."

"Then wake up, Jonah."

He blinked at me, looking at me with a confused expression on his face. How should he react to me now? He must have known it was almost over, but after two years… he just sat there, quietly, waiting to see what I would do.

I walked up to him. He turned his big, gorgeous brown eyes up to me, and I reached down and kissed him. Reaching around him, I slapped his ass and was rewarded with his little cock, developing, closer and closer to puberty, as it rose to attention. I smiled at the now-horny little boy.

I shoved him up against the wall. "Do you want to have sex with me, you little pervert?"

He stared up at me, cock rising to full erection after I'd shoved him. His face twitched, trying to measure his conflicting emotions, the pull of his nascent hormones against the horror he'd experienced for two years.

"Well? Should I make you my little bitch one last time?"

He gasped. And then, in a small voice, he answered. "Yes."

It was a beautiful fucking. The kid was erect the whole time, and never harder than when I'd shove him, or call him my bitch or my victim, or when I'd shove my cock especially brutally up his ass. I was sad, because I'd never had the chance to have an eager partner like this.

Eventually it was done. I left him then, the poor child who was raped one hundred and sixty-two times, each time a virgin. The kid who now longed for that violence, who, on his one hundred and sixty-third time, finally desired his master's attention.

The End (B)

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