Dungeon Nights [Short/RP]
You're property. You're there to be used.
It's the middle of the night. Well, what passes for your 'night' as you can't remember the last time you saw the sun. Better said, it's the middle of your sleep break, something your body tells you doesn't happen as often as ot should. You're out of your cage, on something that might be called a carpet, chained to the wall by your wrists. The room, going by his words, is a resting one, right next to the dungeon. Someplace he can nap a bit, strech his limbs, facefuck a slut without having to go to his actually bedroom. Not that he would allow a whore like you into it anyways. All you know is the dungeon, and this room. The outside more like a fable then something you ever experianced.
Your sleep is cut short. Before you even know what's happening, someone yanks your collar back, and without any lube or prep, shoves a good few inches of painfully hard cock right inside you. And it's not the fox. You -know- his smell, as it's what you wear, soaked in your fur. You -know- his dick. Panic. You feel your heart speed up, thumping in your chest. A dull thud in your ears. Anyone else, even you, countless weeks ago, would give in into it. But by now, all that it makes you do is to just whine like a pathetic bitch. Any resistance, and fight long gone. The fox has done worse, anyway.
You can't even see the man. He keeps your collar pulled tight, its rough iron edge painfully scraping up and down your neck. His hot, large cock, while not as big as some of the 'toys' the fox forced into you, still almost rips your flesh just by how violently it's being forced into you. Again and again. The rapist stinks of alcohol, reeks of sweat and musk. He bites down on your shoulder, drawing blood. Hips pumping into you, slamming his thighs against your ass. Slap. Slap. Slap. SLAP. You feel that invading length twitch, balls deep inside you. Then, the heat. He cums. He cums, slipping a hand under your collar. Yanking you against his sweaty, hot body hard enough to almost dislocate your wrists, the wall attached chain yanking them back with an angry rattle. You're suffocating. The wide, metal collar crushing against your throat. Leaving new bruises on old ones, new cuts and tuffs of fur ripped, and lost, among all the history your neck shows. You barely feel the few short, hard thrusts as he rides out his orgasm. You pass out.
You wake up to a hot stream driyppig over your cheeks. You cough for air, and then it hits into your muzzle. Hot, bitter piss making you choke as he cruelly toys with your need for air. Your body aches. Your ass is dripping with seed. The stench of musky piss fills each breath you manage to take. Your neck is bruised, and your voice probably damaged for a while. It's dark, the rapist just a stilluette. A presance. Another thing *he * forced upon you. Another way you're shown your place. His last unpleasantly hot drips land onto what's left of your hair.
And just like that, he finishes, turn around and walks out. You only hear him mumbling something about a loose whore.He will probably forget how you looked. How you felt. No different then a toy, an object to relieve himself with. Did he even knew you're male?
You're still hard. You hope you won't be when the fox is back.