HEY READ THIS FIRST 'kay thanks. I kind of rushed on this one because I had a very important inquiry. So, to those of you who leave reviews, if I were to write a Blake/Ash/Jayden threesome, and if you're into that I guess, would you want it to be rape or consensual? If you've read my other stuff, you probably know which is my specialty, but the plot wouldn't change that much depending, so I can pretty much do either. Anyway, enjoy this sick, fucked up porn stuff.
Added Reality
He had opted out of attending Norman's funeral.
It had been enough watching the news segment. Seeing Norman's face on the screen as his death was detailed by the reporter. Knowing that, less that 24 hours before, he had fucked that young body which had become unexpectedly delicate in his grip, cruelly ignored the cries of protest and the pleading, overcame the struggling and forced Norman to surrender his body and choke on his own helplessness. A rape that, now, would go undiscovered and unpunished forever.
Blake vaguely wondered whether Norman had been thinking about it at the end of his life. Had his poisoned body betrayed him in his final moments? Blake had been brutal with him, unforgiving, ruthless. Norman had twisted his body and bitten back tears.
Pointless, now. One corner of Blake's mouth twitched upwards. He glanced down at Norman's ARI glasses dangling from between his fingers—a gift from Perry and dear Norman and his last link to the deceased agent.
He wasn't done punishing Norman, and through a bit of experimentation, Blake had figured out a way to keep him, to torment him as he pleased.
He slipped the glasses on.
[-]
The virtual environment engulfed his bedroom, transforming it into an eerily pleasant misty canyon, fresh air hitting his face. Out of place in this scene was his bed, on whose edge he was sitting when he put on the ARI.
Turning slowly, he saw that his experiment was a success.
Norman was not handcuffed, but chained to his bed, his wrists entangled in chains wound around the headboard. Around his neck a chain clung to him like a dog collar.
The virtual version of Norman Jayden struggled feebly against the chains, looking up at Blake when Blake began to move toward him.
"Blake..." Norman's voice said, a perfect imitation, the virtual body and face flawless masks of their previous owner, the clothes hugging the slim form exactly as memory said they should look.
"It's almost better this way than in reality," Blake said, making his way slowly across the bed toward its prisoner. Norman watched him warily, his eyes sharp with the intensity of fear.
Blake's hand ran up Norman's thigh. Norman tried to flinch away, but bound as he was, there was nowhere to go.
Blake pulled on Norman's shirt, untucking it, reaching up to loosen the tie and open the shirt. Norman's eyelids slid half-closed, his parted lips drawing slow breath. Blake's fingers ran down Norman's bared torso, stopping on the belt buckle. It was to Norman's credit that he did not gasp or yell when the belt was yanked off of him, though he did react when Blake opened his pants and began to slide them down his hips.
"Oh..." he said, glancing down at his bare thighs before looking away.
Blake, reaching between Norman's legs, began to finger him. Norman moaned, a hot blush coloring his cheeks. He met Blake's eyes, saw the Lieutenant smirking at him, looked down.
"Submission suits you, Norman," Blake said, pushing his fingers in further.
Norman arched at the feeling of Blake's fingertip nudging his prostate.
"Slut," Blake said, pushing in and out, observing the turn-on of Norman in heat.
"Fuck me," Norman breathed, eyes closed. "Just get it over with."
Blake smiled darkly. "I wish you were alive to feel this, Jayden."
He pulled his fingers out and gripped Norman's hip, throwing his right leg over Norman's body and straddling him. Blake's left hand cupped Norman's face, causing him to open his eyes and look at Blake. He let out a muffled sound as Blake crushed their lips together, forcing his tongue inside of Norman's mouth.
Norman allowed it, more or less complying, until his lungs protested the lack of oxygen and Norman began to weakly struggle. Blake wouldn't let up, however, and his right hand made its way to Norman's hardening length. Norman gave a strangled cry, moaning softly as Blake jerked him off.
Blake only relented when Norman went limp, unable to continue to moan and writhe without breathing. Blake withdrew his tongue, allowing Norman to gasp in air, his cheeks burning with a combination of shame and lust.
In typical cruel Blake fashion, Blake retracted the hand pleasuring Norman just before he could climax. Norman looked positively tortured, his wounded eyes gazing into Blake's, spreading his legs a little to encourage Blake.
He succeeded, in a way. Blake moved in between Norman's legs, freeing his own erection and pressing the head against Norman's entrance.
"Blake..." Norman whispered, his voice pleading for either freedom or ravishment. Blake, not caring either way, tightened his fingers around Norman's waist and started thrusting.
It was different; when he had raped Norman—the real Norman—the kid had struggled and fought, resisted until the inevitable was forced upon him, and even then he had bitten his tongue against his moans. Blake had to hold Norman's legs against him to begin fucking him, and only through intentionally brutal violent thrusts did Blake manage to break him.
ARI Norman—his Norman—on the other hand, was what Blake had had to force Norman to become. A very convincing slut.
Pay dirt.
Norman screamed in ecstasy, his back arching harshly as he struggled against the chains, his legs draped around Blake's waist. His body moved back and forth as Blake rocked against him. Sweat clung to his skin, his hips rotating in time with their synchronized motion.
Norman's lips were sealed by Blake's bruising kiss, the soft flesh pliant as the body was submissive. Blake tongued him again, and while Norman didn't really kiss him back, he put forth no resistance.
They continued in a similar fashion, Norman moaning into Blake's mouth and Blake responding by casting dirty names upon Norman, speaking filthy words against his lips and ear, promises of what was yet to come.
Blake fucked him harshly, ceaselessly, until Norman could no longer move, his body limp and subject to the forceful motions of Blake's thrusts, until only his stifled moans indicated that he was still conscious. At last his climax came with a final vicious thrust, Norman screaming beautifully at the feeling of cum flooding his insides. In a desperate burst of strength, Norman's back arched high off the bed, pushing his ass against Blake, increasing the friction and the force of their orgasm.
Norman's back fell to the bed, his body stained with the essence of another man's pleasure and his stomach covered by his own. His face, hot and pink-tinged, wore an expression of something resembling warmth, need.
Enchantment, one might call it.
Blake grunted softly, pulling himself out of the tight, hot tunnel beneath him. They each panted for a minute, catching their breath. Eventually, Norman opened his eyes all the way and peered into the face of his somewhat forced lover, and said, "Blake? Let me go?" He pulled against the chains.
Blake gave a half-smile, grabbed the side of Norman's face and kissed him hard. When he came away, Norman was again reduced to panting.
"Don't get used to the idea that I'm done," he told him. "I want to put that talented mouth of yours to work." Norman blushed, and Blake continued, "Where can we go for this... Ah, I know the perfect place."
It took a moment of concentration, a will of his mind, for the environment to change. In the matter of a second, the open air of the canyon was replaced by the walls and the darkness of the apartment of Nathaniel Williams. Before him, Norman Jayden was on his knees, arms bound behind him, looking up at Blake rather eagerly. Blake smirked. Grabbing Norman by the hair, he pulled the man's face forward, drawing the lips over his member, already entertaining fantasies of just how he would rape and ravish Norman, here on the hardwood floor, before the wooden stares of hundreds of crucifixes.
[-]
What might have been hours later, Blake removed the ARI glasses, still astonished by its capabilities. Running a hand through his short, sweaty hair, he placed the glasses on the nightstand, sighed at the mess all over his bed. Only his, of course. Norman's was safely trapped in ARI.
Pushing the stained sheets aside, he laid down, taking a deep breath of satisfaction. Norman was his whenever he wanted him, the fucking little slut...
That face startled him when he opened his eyes and found it glaring down at him, the body standing next to the bed, arms crossed and fists clenched.
"Holy shit!"
Blake made to bolt up but froze, somehow unable to move beneath the pinning glare of those pale blue eyes. Briefly he glance at the ARI on the nightstand, realizing that this apparition before him was a hallucination occurring in real life.
The lips on the angry face mouthed the word Bastard. Its stare was accusatory; it emanated the discontent and unease of the first time that Blake had seen Norman in ARI.
Shit, Blake thought, squeezing his eyes shut, pinching his nose bridge, applying pressure to the inside corners of his eyes. Shit, shit.
When he opened his eyes a minute later, the ghost of Norman was gone, but the disturbing feeing remained, punctuated by the remembrance of Norman's cries from that time—Fuck, let me- Ah, Blake, please...!—and Blake's cruel smile above him.
© Shadows Underground 2010