THE BROKEN DAM

Rob Rosen

I run my own marketing department with seventy people reporting to me, millions of dollars riding on my every decision. Because of all that responsibility, my blood pressure was higher than the penthouse floor I lived on. I ached for a vacation—not from my job but from my life. I wanted to give up, give in, even for just a day, an hour. I didn’t want to think, didn’t want to act, just wanted to submit.

I thought about going to the gym, but decided on Craigslist instead. Seemed more expedient.

He arrived in no time flat.

“Nice place,” he said, entering my loft with a swagger and a gym bag that rattled at his side. He was tall, lanky, handsome in a rough way. I had people working for me who looked like him, people dozens of floors below me.

I never talked to them; I didn’t feel much of a need now. I didn’t want to talk, after all, didn’t want to even think.

“Do what you will,” I said, feeling my cock harden as the muscles in my neck relaxed.

I locked eyes with him, his a startling blue, haloed as they were beneath a mop of unruly auburn hair and a thick beard below. He simply nodded and tossed his bag to the carpet. It landed with a dull thud, as did I as he flung me to the couch and pinned my hands behind my back.

He rammed his tongue down my throat, and then pulled an inch away, taking me in, perhaps deciding what he was going to do with me. I sighed and waited. He spat on my mouth. “Lick it up.” I did as he said. I would do so for as long as he remained there, gladly. Or perhaps resignedly was a better word for it.

He stood up, got undressed, and told me to do the same. “Quickly,” he added.

I stripped, panting a bit now as his lean body came into view. He stared at me in return as if I was a toy to be played with—which is just what I was.

“On your knees,” he said.

I fell from the couch and landed in front of him, his cock already aimed my way. He slapped it across my face. I felt the sting. He grabbed my nipples, and I yelped. He quieted me down by shoving his prick between my lips. I gagged, a tear streaming down my cheek. His cock was like a crowbar; mine was suddenly even thicker than that, harder.

He smacked my cheek and yanked my hair, all while I sucked him with abandon, my hands submissively behind my back as I did so. He tossed me to the ground when he’d had enough of my attentions.

I watched him unzip his bag; saw the ropes, the gag. I was trussed in mere moments, unable to move or cry out. I went limp. It was a delightful feeling, terror mixed with acceptance. My fate was in his hands, not mine. My brain at last flatlined.

He spanked me, slapped me, tugged at anything that protruded. I breathed through my nose. My prick throbbed, leaked. I would’ve sighed had it not been for the gag. I squirmed instead as he abused my body and slapped my prick, sending it reeling.

He spat into his hand, stroked his cock, spanked my hole. I longed to be penetrated, to be nothing but a puppet for him. I didn’t have to wait beyond a minute as his spit-slickened fingers found their way inside me, one becoming two, two shifting to three. He pumped my chute with ferocity. My cock felt like it could explode.

“Don’t come,” he said. “You come, I leave.”

I nodded. Acquiescence was met with a yank on my nuts. I howled into the gag. He pumped farther into my ass, teasing my cock with his free hand, bringing me to the verge before letting up. Sweat cascaded down my face, come welling up from my aching balls.

I didn’t think of work. I didn’t think of money. I fought not to come. That was all I needed to do, all I was commanded to do.

His fingers were replaced by a black dildo, then a plug, though he had enough mercy on me to use lube this time. He ravaged my ass as he freed my soul. He jacked me and released, jacked and released. I was in pain. I was in ecstasy. I didn’t even know his name and I’d nearly forgotten my own.

He eventually stood over me and stared down, clearly enjoying the sight of me. He pounded his prick and spat onto my chest. I watched his balls slowly rise. His eyes rolled back into his head a moment later. He moaned loudly as he came, thick gobs of aromatic come splattering my belly before gliding down my sides.

He removed the gag and untied me, then kissed me, hard. He jacked my cock as he strummed on the plug still embedded up my ass. He played my body like a musical instrument until I was finally in tune.

I came with a gushing release, as if a dam had broken.

In all, it lasted forty minutes, tops. It felt like an eternity.

He left without another word.

I lay there, naked and battered. I’d gone into this broken; I came out the other side whole.

I went to my computer. I did my work. My blood pressure felt normalized. I typed even as the butt plug remained, a gift from a stranger, a gift that would keep on giving long after the bruises healed.