I tried to move away, but Cliff easily pulled me back to him. After he had secured one end of the chain around my ankle, he fastened the other end to the bedpost. I shouted through the gag, but he ignored me. He untied the shirt he had been using to bind my hands and threw it to the floor beside the bed. Immediately, I grabbed at where the chain was chafing my skin. I worked my foot around to try to slip free, but before I had a chance, Cliff grabbed my wrists and glared at me. "Touch that again and it's going around your throat," he warned. I shivered knowing he was entirely serious.

Cliff pulled out the gag, and I coughed roughly before I started yelling and trying to punch him. "Get away from me!" I snarled as we grappled for control. "Help! Someone help me!"

Finally getting ahold of my wrists with one hand, he grabbed my face firmly with the other, squeezing enough for it to hurt. "Be quiet," he said. "I have little patience to deal with your mouth after the stunt you just pulled."

"Stunt? You're a murderer!" I snapped. He ignored me and pinned me on my back. With his free hand, he hooked his fingers into my pants and tugged them off, making my breath stutter with even more fear. "What are you doing...?! No!" I shouted, kicking out uselessly.

A nasty smirk played on his lips as he watched my feeble attempts at gaining freedom. He waited patiently for me to wear myself out until I was exhausted and lay still, quietly breathing through my nose.

"Are you quite finished?" he asked.

I narrowed my eyes, exhaling sharply. "Fuck you."

He rolled his eyes. "Yeah. Whatever."

He switched his grip and settled between my legs for more leverage. I squirmed back, but there wasn't much room to move around.

"I wanted to wait, but I don't think I care anymore," he murmured. "Maybe this will shut you up for good."

I wasn't sure what he was talking about until his other hand roamed up my torso and back down again; further down than before. I shuddered a gasp, and his eyes flicked to my face for an instant. I saw a hesitation in his expression when he saw my terror, but it didn't last. His eyes soon hardened, and he flipped me over where we couldn't see each other.

I shrunk away in disgust as his palm massaged my ass and thighs. "If you touch me-" I warned.

He gripped the short strands of my hair painfully. "If I touch you, you'll sit quietly and take it," he ordered, and in one fluid motion, he jerked my boxers off and threw them on the floor.

This action sent my mind reeling and I gripped the sheets, lips pressed in a firm yet mortified line. His hand massaged across my skin directly this time, and he dipped his hand lower on my abdomen to pull me onto my knees. I shifted my eyes to look back at him and he met my gaze. His anger was practically seeping from every pore of his expression, and I found I could say nothing as he wrapped a hand around my cock.

Try as I might, I couldn't keep myself from growing aroused. My breath came out in short huffs of air as I squeezed my eyes closed and buried my face in the sheets. If I pretended hard enough, I could almost convince myself that it was just a wet dream and I was at home in my own bed or back in the dorms. But then Cliff would twist his hand in a way I never did and I would be thrown back into reality with a groan.

I was lost in the pleasure when Cliff's voice was suddenly by my ear. "Stay where you are," he murmured.

I swallowed the bile that bubbled up when I heard him pulling off his shirt and unzipping his jeans. He was going to do it, I realized with dread. He opened a drawer nearby and then rolled me over. I trembled as he tied my wrists with a thick cord before pulling me to a sitting position. I kept my eyes resolutely on his face, pleading with him, but it made no difference. He pushed my front to the wall behind the bed and rubbed lightly at my entrance. I squirmed uncomfortably as he shifted close enough for me to feel his body heat. "Don't be afraid," he said, and it was so soft, I almost thought he was trying to comfort me.

But then his finger, cold from lube, pressed insistently against my entrance and I shuddered violently as it slipped inside. I whined and dug my nails into the paint on the wall. "Stop- Please, stop..." I begged.

"Quit complaining," he said. "You're lucky I'm preparing you at all."

This was not a reassuring statement and I merely groaned. A moment later, Cliff added a second finger alongside the first and I tensed my shoulders, sending him a glare. "You're disgusting-..." I choked out.

"At least I'm not the only one enjoying it," he told me, and he added a third finger as punishment as he wrapped his hand free hand around my cock again. His words stung almost as much as the stretch of his fingers in my ass and my knees wobbled under me.

This wasn't my first time; in fact, this wasn't even my first time being tied up. However, it was the only time I hadn't been a willing participant, and that was what I couldn't stand. The tension in my body made everything hurt worse, and ache, and I wanted to vomit at the very thought that this was even happening. I wanted to scream, but the only sounds I was capable of making were gasps and needy moans as Cliff found my prostate and crooked his finger just right to make me sob.

Before I even realized it, I was close enough to feel my stomach drop, and the next thing I knew, I let out a breathless whimper as my cum striped the wall. My body jerked from the effort of the release, and as soon as it was over, I slumped against the wall in exhaustion.

Cliff slipped his fingers out and pulled me backwards to rest in his lap. "That wasn't supposed to happen," he grumbled more to himself than me.

I thought it was over, prayed for it to be, but I was wrong on so many levels. As he leaned over to open the same drawer from earlier, I forced my eyes to focus on whatever it was he was grabbing, and soon I was back to fighting, this time with renewed panic. "No! Let go of me!" I screamed, thrashing about and grasping at the sheets with my tied hands.

"Hold still," he grunted, keeping one arm around my waist as he struggled to roll a condom onto his dick.

After being unable to hold me in place and put the condom on at the same time, he let go of me. I scooted to the edge of the bed and raced towards the door. I tripped over the chain before I got there and fell with a thud, unable to catch my fall because of my tied wrists. Rolling over, I kicked at the chain in a panic, but it did no good. I watched with horror as Cliff finished putting on the condom and stood up to walked over to me.

He scooped me up as I tried to scramble away and brought me back to the bed. I attempted to get away again, but he held me against his broad chest, one hand around my throat as a silent threat. For a moment, all he did was hold me there as I squirmed nervously. Then gently, he nuzzled at my neck. "You smell good..." he said into my skin.

"You're sick," I whispered. This gave him pause, but I couldn't see his face, so I wasn't sure what he was thinking. It didn't matter. Seconds later he lifted me over his cock and I felt it press against my entrance. I tried to desperately pull away from him. "Please," I begged, "Please, don't do this...!"

He held my arms down as he kissed my shoulder. "Zane," he mumbled. I looked at him over my shoulder and he met my eyes in a sincere way that made me swallow back all my words. "Just breathe," he told me. Then he dragged my hips down and I sobbed.

*******

After those last words, it all became a blur. Eventually, I became aware that it was over and that Cliff was untying my wrists. Once I was free, I crawled away from him, but I only made it to the other side of the bed before I collapse into the mattress; a sore, disgusting, aching mess. I lay on my stomach, crying into my pillow as Cliff pulled the covers up to my lower back, hiding my defiled body from view.

After he had covered me, Cliff settled down on the other side of the bed. He sat with his back against the headboard, his eyes closed. I knew he didn't fall asleep. Every few minutes he would take a deep breath and look down at me, as if wondering if he should say something. However, when he couldn't come up with anything, he sighed. "I'm going to get some air," he said, and left the room.

I had stopped crying quite a bit ago, but I didn't bother to acknowledge him. I felt like a soulless corpse, lost in the darkness that had become the life I lived. Nothing felt real anymore. I didn't want to give up, but I felt so exhausted, I couldn't imagine myself fighting back anymore. I just wanted it to be over... Giving up seemed so easy; if I gave up, maybe I could just fall into a dreamless slumber from which I would never have to awaken.

*******

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