The Law of the Beast

The click of the lock resonated in the small tile cell. A good sound. A final sound. The outside world, with its shit noise and asshole bosses, stayed on the other side. Here inside, only he and I were present. And my rules. The air, laden with the sour steam of urine and cheap pine, filled my lungs. It was the smell of my territory.

He remained still, the little fucker, with his angelic frightened eyes. That bitchy passivity ignited a fuse of rage in my stomach. I hated that posh look, that dark clothing that tried to hide the rich kid he was. I started with that. I ripped off his jacket with a pull that made him stumble. The fabric creaked. A good sound. Then the shirt. I tore it at the neck, enjoying how easily he surrendered. I wanted to erase him, I wanted to destroy the shell and get to the flesh.

When I ripped off his jeans and the last garment fell, his body was exposed under the agonizing light of the fluorescent. White skin, fucking smooth, without a single hair. Like a damn porcelain doll. A provocation. A perfect and clean surface that begged me to dirty it, to break it. A violent disgust and desire knotted in my throat.

I pushed him to his knees. The dry thud of his bones against the dirty tiles tasted like glory. He fell without a whimper. I unzipped my pants, my cock already hard as a rock, pulsing with rage and need.

"Open your mouth," I ordered.

I grabbed his hair and buried his face in my crotch, rubbing his mouth and nose against the tangle of my pubic hair. I wanted him to suffocate with my animal smell, a smell of sweat and male. I felt his soft and hairless skin against mine, rough, and a growl rose up my chest. It was the desecration of his fucking purity. I shoved my cock into his mouth to the hilt, again and again, choking him, feeling his throat contract uselessly. Each gag was a victory.

After a while, I pushed him away with a shove. He was panting, with tearful eyes. Pathetic. I picked up his bunched-up underwear from the floor and stuffed it into his mouth with my fist. Let him choke. Let him not make a sound.

I lifted him and slammed him face-first against the cracked mirror.

"Look," I hissed in his ear, my hot breath against his cold skin. "Look what I'm going to do to you."

I saw our reflection: his panicked face distorted by the gag; mine, a mask of pure fury. I entered him with a single thrust. I felt the tear. A wet sound and a violent spasm of his body. Fuck you. I started moving, at a brutal rhythm, without rest. All the shit of the day, of the week, of the job, of the world, I was unloading it inside this fucking hole.

"Do you like it, faggot?" I growled, although I knew he couldn't respond. "Do you like being my bitch? All the rage I accumulate out there, you're eating it. You're just a piece of meat for me. A hole to unload my shit."

My cock was a battering ram, and his ass, a wall that I was bursting with blo...