This story was first published on Literotica and is republished here with the author’s permission. Under Gemini’s Literotica Profile, you can find more of his published works.
WARNING: This fantasy story contains graphic violence and elements of non-consent. Gemini has handled this nicely; the narrative includes hints of the protagonist’s underlying consent.
Mr. New
I was at my usual boxing session at the gym when we had a new guy show up.
I’d never noticed men in that way before but there was something different, alluring, about him that I couldn’t put my finger on. There was nothing especially unusual about his appearance, he wasn’t toned like some of the other boxers, nor was he especially athletic. Maybe his smile, his *normality*, who knows.
The trainer had put us through our usual stretches and warm ups, pad work and so on. I found myself glancing at Mr New, watching the way he sprung on his feet as he moved around the punch bag when a pang of shameful guilt jolted me back to reality.
Soon it was time for sparring. I was – of course – put with Mr New, both of us by now shiny with a sheen of sweat. We touched gloves, and wished each other good luck.
We started; I was impressed with his coordination, his ease of movement, and questioned myself if this really was his first session.
Distraction
As he bounced left and right on his feet I became transfixed with watching his shorts hint at his cock dancing under the fabric. I tried to shake the thought from my mind and defend but too late, he landed a couple of hard blows on my side and chest, winding me slightly.
He glared at me as I regained my composure – had he noticed my gaze and guessed my thoughts?
I told myself I deserved this for perving at another man like this, I really should be concentrating on the fight not his groin.
We restarted; we moved round the ring, alternating between predator and prey.
I defended a few and caught him with a couple of jabs before again I was distracted by his body, wondering what his sweaty nipples tasted like, then my eyes fantasizing down to his legs, then up again pausing too long on his bouncing crotch.
More blows.
There was something darkly erotic about him punching me, I almost willed him to hurt me, needed him to beat these thoughts out of my mind.
Beaten
Bam! He hooked me to the head which took me by surprise. I stumbled and went to my knees, my head spinning, my vision becoming blurred.
Mr New helped me up, his voice a kind apology that I couldn’t fully process. I wasn’t in a good way and someone suggested I should sit down. Mr New steadied me to my feet, I held on to his sweating body and he guided me away, pulling me to the changing room.
The noises from the main gym area subsided as we stumbled into the musty changing room, my vision still cloudy, and in my dizziness I imagined the door closing and locking behind me before slumping to a bench. A mix of feelings of anxiety, apprehension and entrapment washed over me as I lost consciousness.
I came round a short while later, aware of my feet being on the floor but my head resting on his thighs even with my eyes still closed.
I wanted to shake the unexpected visions from earlier though in my concussed trance I allowed myself to drop deeper into a dream world, my mind wandering back to thoughts of Mr New, willing him to abuse me.
Inside the Changing Room
I heard my breathing become clearer, was aware of a second person breathing very close by.
I realised that Mr New was slapping my face to wake me, the noise echoing round the empty changing room.
I could smell sweat and musk, one arm limp at my side, the other on his legs.
I went to put my hand under my head to prop myself up a little, then to my horror (or was it?) realised he wasn’t wearing his shorts any more.
My eyes flashed open.
I was lying on his lap, facing into his stomach, now acutely of his pubes scratching my cheek.
His hand was toying with my hair, pulling it lightly into fists, almost menacing. I tried to move and say something but he shushed me quietly and powerfully held me still.
He told me he’d seen me watching him in the gym and now he was going to have to punish me, it wasn’t right that I should be staring at his cock in public.
Punished
I tried to protest but the words barely formed in my mouth as he tightened his grip in my hair.
He slapped me some more and told me he was going to give me something to really think about. I heard his breath quicken and his cock hardened against my cheek. He shifted his position slightly, repositioned my head to be closer to his growing erection.
A profound mix of repulsion and thrill hit me. I couldn’t move, couldn’t push away. My face was wet with his sweat and I felt his hard ridge pressing firmly into my cheekbone, almost searching for an entrance. The claustrophobic heat radiating off him was overwhelming. I realized my own breath was now shaking. The earlier shame was gone, now the thrilling weight of him, unprotected and horribly attainable, was terrifyingly captivating.
Then he lifted his hips slightly, just enough to catch the edge of my lip with the wet, slick tip of his cock. I put up the smallest resistance, trying to find the right balance of thoughts in my mind.
His fingers now pressed into my cheeks, hurting my jaw. He told me that this is what I needed, what I’d been looking for all afternoon and I knew he was right.
I closed my eyes and licked tentatively, tasting his manhood, touching his hole experimentally with my tongue.
He pulled my hair, forcing my head up and down on his shaft.
Hit me
“Fuck me,” I managed to gasp in between thrusts, more for encouragement than necessity, he was not in any danger of stopping now.
“Hit me.”
He roughly lifted my head off his cock, saliva stringing from my mouth, and slapped me hard three or four times. I felt dizzy but validated, he pushed my head back onto his dick.
I felt I was losing my mind, delirious, no longer sure if I was thinking or speaking out loud.
“Fuck me, use me.”
Abruptly he stopped, pulling out of my mouth.
“Let’s go over there,” he spat out his words, “I can barely move here.”
He stood up and I fell to the floor by the bench. He roughly pulled me by the arms, slipping across the floor into the shower cubicle and propped me sitting against the cold tiled wall,.
He turned the water on and angled the shower head to spray onto me.
He stood in front of me, holding his cock proudly in front of my face. I tried to look up but the water streaming into my eyes blinded me. I found his legs with my hands, then slid them up, past his thighs and round to his buttocks. I pulled him closer; he stepped in, his cock touching my lips momentarily. Again he slapped me hard, stinging my cheeks. I opened my mouth wide to take him in and felt his cock glide past my lips, noticing the veiny texture as it entered, pushing my tongue to the bottom of my mouth.
A Pounding
He began fucking my mouth, pumping his cock with his hand, almost punching me in the face with each thrust. The water continued to stream down over me, over my nose. I struggled to breathe but was powerless to move, lost in the confusion of sensations. I held him in place, only slightly moving my hands on his backside during the frenzied action. His rhythm increased still further, pounding into my mouth, making me gag, his breathing faster and deeper; he took one of my hands and made me hold his cock, making me complicit in my own punishment, while he continued thrusting into my mouth.
I tasted his salty pre-cum. With a sudden fear and panic, I realised he was making me finish him into my own mouth. My earlier idle curiosity was now in sharp contrast.
His thrusting was relentless, then with great spasms I felt his cock throb and pulse spurts of cum into my mouth, onto my tongue, hitting the back of my throat. I winced, trying not to swallow.
He held me in place for a moment, I felt his cock softening in my mouth, then he stepped back. I weakly spat out his cum which just landed on my chest before being washed away in the shower.
Mr New lifted my head; he said he hoped I’d learnt my lesson and strode away, leaving me sitting under the shower with my thoughts.
I’d have to wait for the next session to see if I’d really learnt anything at all.