The warehouse door slammed shut behind me, the echo swallowed by the dim light and the smell of oil and sweat. I was twenty-three, straight as they come, just delivering parts for my uncle's shop like any other night. But he was waiting—Marcus, the guy who'd been giving me looks for weeks, all muscle and quiet threat. "You owe me," he said, voice low and rough, pushing me against the wall before I could speak. His hand clamped my throat, not enough to choke but enough to freeze me. "Tonight you pay."
I fought at first, shoving at his chest, but he was bigger, stronger, years of hard labor in every inch of him. He spun me around, yanking my arms behind my back and binding my wrists with a length of rope from the workbench. "Stop struggling or it gets worse," he growled in my ear, his breath hot. My heart hammered, fear mixing with something hotter, something I didn't want to name. He ripped my shirt open, buttons scattering, then shoved my jeans down to my knees. His fingers dug into my hips, pulling me back against the hard line of his cock through his pants.
Marcus didn't ask.
He took. One thick finger pushed between my cheeks, dry at first, making me gasp and buck. "Tight little virgin hole," he muttered, spitting on his hand and working it in deeper. The burn was sharp, intense, but he didn't stop, twisting and stretching me while his other hand stroked my cock to unwilling hardness. I hated how my body responded, blood rushing south despite the fear. "You're gonna take it all," he promised darkly, unzipping and pressing the blunt head of his dick against me.
He thrust in slow but relentless, forcing past the resistance until he was buried balls-deep. Pain flared white-hot, then ebbed into a heavy fullness that made my knees shake. Marcus held me pinned, one arm across my chest, the other gripping my bound wrists. He fucked me with deep, grinding strokes, each one claiming more territory inside me. "Feel that? Your ass is mine now." The power in his voice, the way he controlled every movement, every angle, sent sparks through me. I moaned despite myself, the sound raw and broken.
He pulled out, spun me to face him, and forced me to my knees. His cock, slick and throbbing, slapped my lips. "Open." When I hesitated he grabbed my hair and pushed in, filling my mouth. I gagged at first, but he held steady, teaching me the rhythm with rough thrusts. Tears stung my eyes, yet my own erection strained painfully. He used my mouth like he owned it, then hauled me up and bent me over a crate.
This time he entered me harder, pounding with punishing force. Each slap of his hips against my ass echoed through the empty space. He reached around to jerk me in time with his thrusts, twisting the power exchange until I was trembling on the edge. "Come for me," he ordered, voice like gravel. My orgasm ripped through me against my will, spilling over his fist while my ass clenched around him. Marcus followed with a guttural groan, flooding me deep.
He untied me afterward but didn't let me leave right away. His hand rested on the back of my neck, possessive. "Same time next week," he said. I nodded, shame and hunger twisting together in my gut. The night had changed something permanent inside me, a dark surrender I already craved again.
