The warehouse door slammed shut behind Mark, the heavy lock clicking into place like a final judgment. He was twenty-eight, straight, married, and now trapped with his boss, Derek, a thick-built man in his forties who had caught him skimming cash from the books. "You fix this my way or I call the cops," Derek had growled during the drive over. Now they stood under a single bare bulb, the air thick with oil and sweat.
Derek didn't waste time. He grabbed Mark by the collar and shoved him against the cold metal wall. "Strip. Everything off. Now." Mark's hands shook as he pulled off his shirt, then his jeans, his briefs. His cock hung soft and exposed, but Derek's eyes stayed locked on him like he owned every inch. "On your knees."
Mark dropped. Derek unzipped and pulled out a heavy, veined cock already half-hard. "Open your mouth and suck it like you mean it. No teeth." Mark hesitated, but Derek's hand fisted his hair and forced the thick head past his lips. The taste was musky, salty, and Derek thrust deeper until Mark gagged. "That's it, choke on it. You're mine tonight."
Derek fucked his face in steady, rough strokes, balls slapping Mark's chin. Spit ran down Mark's neck. When Derek pulled out, strings of saliva connected them. "Turn around.
Hands on the wall." Mark obeyed, ass cheeks spread by Derek's rough palms. A thick finger pushed into his hole dry, making him grunt in pain. "Tight little straight hole. Gonna stretch it good."
Derek spit on his own cock and pressed the blunt head against Mark's rim. He shoved in hard, one brutal thrust that buried half his length. Mark cried out, the burn sharp and deep. Derek didn't stop. He gripped Mark's hips and rammed the rest inside, balls deep, then started pounding. Each thrust forced a grunt from Mark's throat. "Fuck, you're squeezing me. Feels better than pussy, doesn't it?"
Mark's cock started to swell despite the pain. Derek reached around and stroked it roughly, thumb smearing the leaking precum. "Look at that. Your dick likes getting fucked." He angled deeper, hitting something inside that made Mark's legs shake. Pleasure mixed with the humiliation, hot and unwanted.
Derek pulled out, spun Mark around, and bent him over a stack of crates. He slammed back in, fucking him harder, skin slapping loud in the empty space. "Beg for it. Tell me you want this cock." Mark stayed silent until Derek's hand cracked across his ass. "Say it."
"Please… fuck me," Mark rasped. Derek laughed low and drove in faster, the force rocking the crates. He reached under and twisted Mark's nipples, then wrapped a hand around his throat from behind. Mark's cock throbbed, dripping onto the floor.
Derek flipped him onto his back on the crates, legs pushed up to his chest. He sank back inside and fucked him in long, grinding strokes, eyes locked on Mark's face. "Watch me while I use you." Mark's hole clenched around the invading thickness, the stretch turning into a raw, filthy need. Derek's pace grew erratic. He pulled out, stroked his cock twice, and shot thick ropes across Mark's chest and stomach, some hitting his face.
Mark's own cock jerked untouched, spurting across his abs. Derek smeared the mess together with two fingers and pushed them into Mark's mouth. "Clean it up." Mark sucked them clean, the taste of both of them sharp on his tongue.
Derek didn't let him up right away. He kept Mark pinned, cock softening inside him for a minute longer, then pulled free with a wet sound. "This stays between us. You come back here every Friday or the cops get the files." Mark nodded, legs unsteady when he stood. Derek tossed him his clothes. "Get dressed. And remember who owns that ass now."
Mark left the warehouse with cum drying on his skin and the ache in his hole reminding him exactly how far he'd fallen. Derek's threat hung over him, but so did the memory of that brutal, forced pleasure that had made him come harder than he ever had before.
