The ropes bit into my wrists as the heavy door slammed shut, sealing us in the dim basement light. I was twenty-eight, straight-laced, and now stripped bare except for my torn boxers, knees pressed into cold concrete. He stood over me, tall and broad, his own shirt discarded, sweat gleaming on the hard planes of his chest. His name was Marcus, and he had dragged me here after catching me snooping where I shouldn't.
"Look at you," he growled, voice low and rough. His hand fisted in my hair, yanking my head back so our eyes locked. "All that fight in your eyes, but your cock's already twitching. Gay forced stories aren't just fantasies, are they?"
I spat curses, struggling against the bonds, but he only laughed and shoved me forward onto my stomach. The concrete scraped my skin. He dropped behind me, knees pinning my thighs apart. One thick finger hooked into my boxers and ripped them down, exposing me completely. Cool air hit my hole, and I clenched involuntarily.
Marcus spat into his palm, the wet sound obscene in the quiet room. "You came looking for trouble. Now you get it." His finger pressed against my entrance without warning, pushing past the tight ring in one blunt thrust. I gasped, the burn sharp and sudden, my body arching. He worked it deeper, twisting, finding that spot inside that made my traitorous cock jerk against the floor.
"Stop," I hissed, but it came out ragged. He added a second finger, scissoring roughly, stretching me open with deliberate force. Each pump sent sparks up my spine. My protests dissolved into unwilling moans as he finger-fucked me harder, knuckles brushing my rim on every withdrawal.
When he pulled free, I heard the rasp of his zipper. His cock slapped hot and heavy against my ass, thick and veined, the head already leaking. He didn't ease in. Marcus gripped my hips, lined up, and drove forward in one relentless shove. The stretch was brutal, splitting me wide, forcing my hole to yield around his girth. I cried out, pain and unwanted pleasure crashing together as he bottomed out, balls pressed tight to my skin.
He fucked like he owned me, hips snapping in hard, punishing strokes. Each thrust dragged over my prostate, milking precum from my ignored cock onto the floor. "Take it," he snarled, leaning down to bite my shoulder. "You wanted gay forced stories? This is yours now. Your tight ass gripping me like it never wants to let go."
Sweat dripped from him onto my back. He reached under me, wrapped a callused hand around my shaft, and stroked in time with his thrusts, rough and demanding. My body betrayed me completely, pushing back to meet him even as my mind screamed resistance. The slap of skin on skin filled the room, mixed with my broken gasps and his filthy encouragement.
"Coming already?" he taunted when my balls tightened. He slammed in deeper, grinding against that sweet spot until I shattered, shooting ropes across the concrete while my hole spasmed around him.
Marcus followed seconds later, burying himself to the hilt and flooding me with hot pulses of cum, marking me from the inside.
He didn't pull out right away. Instead he stayed buried, rocking gently as the aftershocks rolled through us both. When he finally withdrew, I felt the slow trickle of his load leaking from my used hole. Marcus untied my wrists, but only to flip me over and pull me against his chest.
"Next time you snoop," he murmured against my ear, voice still dark with promise, "you'll beg for it first."
The basement door stayed locked, and the night stretched long ahead.
