Sentenced to Heaven

Chapter Seven-1

Chapter Seven

Deflowered

The look on their faces was always priceless. This time was no anomaly.

Young Alex gaped at her as if he’d never heard of pegging – or of what happened to men imprisoned, particularly those young and vulnerable, most particularly long-haired, clear-skinned, attractive-looking white boys from privileged upbringings.

Naïve eyes wide, she saw a decade of swaggering macho posturing and locker room indoctrination recoiling in existential distress.

Nothing could be more threatening to one’s unsophisticated ideas about manliness than being f****d in the ass. The act spawned a million metaphors for emasculation. Despite his avowed need to suffer under and be dominated by her, and his ungovernable lust for s****l contact with her, it was clear this was a sanction Alex hadn’t considered despite its inevitability. Involuntarily he struggled with his bonds a moment as his face crumpled and those always honest eyes pleaded with her to spare him.

Seeing her relishing grin spread wider, the boy fought to master both upbringing and instinct. It was really quite fascinating (and again, impressive) to watch.

From horrified denial and beseeching his expression went tremulous with recognition of necessity. Acknowledgement of his infinite obligation to her led to miserable acceptance. This was followed by a hardening of the will to endure a torture in some ways worse than any he’d imagined submitting to.

Oh how unfortunately admirable!

Once again young Alex was depriving her of so much she’d been looking forward to.

For over a year Rachel had fantasized about terrifying and traumatizing her unwilling b***h, reveling in his gibbering refusal. She’d wanted to ruthlessly suppress a hopeless rebellion and perform a pitiless assault that emotionally shattered, physically brutalized and deliciously degraded her contemptible enemy.

Now she could only enjoy the last two. And once again she had to admit that he really wasn’t so contemptible. He was brave enough to accept anathema in the name of his conviction. Rachel doubted she even needed the restraints she was keeping him in. Even in the face of this ultimate nightmare he would probably choose to stay and submit rather than freely leave.

In an odd way this rather compensated for the loss of her sadistic sport.

Rachel was still immensely turned on by the prospect of pegging this virginal young buck – it had been way too long, and unfulfilling before that. But this lustful exhilaration felt more wholesome. Alex being brave about it made this more like the thrill of topping her lost husband than the fury of showing some troublemaking convict who it was that ran the show. Both had their zeal-filled appeal of course. Yet for some reason Rachel suddenly found the former more attractive, despite the fact that no prisoner had ever been as deserving of the latter.

Perhaps this was because she’d never lacked for satisfaction when furiously brutalizing some lowlife scum. Her consensual adventures had been more troublesome.

Appropriate as it would be to simply viciously hate-f**k the s**t out of this boy, unfulfilled yearnings for something more sublime seemed to be at work in her. Though she grinned with wicked intent at her b***h-to-be, Rachel actually heard herself reassuring him.

“What’s the matter, my tender virgin? Never been with an older woman? Afraid I’ll maybe turn you gay? Or have you never heard what happens to naïve young boy-meat behind bars?

“Tut-tut young son! They’d fight over your cherry like hyenas after prime rib on my old cellblock. At least here you only need to satisfy me. Though as I warned you I’m the voracious sort – kind of like a jungle cat in heat myself you know. And boy, does this lioness have a hard-on for you!”

Rachel stroked her big prick. She waggled the butt against her clit, which felt like a little pebble. Twisting his neck uncomfortably in the stocks, Alex at last raised his gaze from his s****l destiny to meet her eager regard. Terrified tears shimmered in his eyes, magnifying those engaging blue irises. Yet neither tears nor gaze fell.

“I live to serve you, Goddess. Do whatever you must to me, whatever I deserve. I won’t resist. If this is what gets you off, I’m honored by the…indignity. I owe you any iota of pleasure you can garner, so go ahead and take it.”

“Well spoken, boy!”

Rachel smiled, not even minding that those eyes lingered on her breasts a moment before jerking away as though burned.

She actually wanted to see that chagrined thing of his rising to salute her again, heaven help her. She couldn’t believe she’d stroked it. Even using a bottle of baby oil to lube up for the fun, she was more generous with this than prudence required.

Moving around behind her still dread-filled slave, her delicious new b***h-for-life, Rachel stroked the trembling from his coltish flanks. She fondled his perfect young buttocks. Squeezing these appreciatively, she shushed a sob as she pried them wide. And though earlier she’d gloried in the knowledge that she need not be accommodating, Rachel remained unexplainably gentle as she used her glans and shaft to rub some oil into his opening. She mustn’t tear him up too much. But then puckering piteously or not, she could resist her little b***h no longer.

All the illimitable passion for this act her rape had inspired in her rose up raging. Though a healthy lust had happily replaced hate as her motivator, the sadistic thrill was as irresistible as ever. Aligning herself with breathless estrus, Goddess Rachel pressed forward, indenting Alex. Then with a primal shriek worthy of any feline in heat she began ramming her way in.

***

Oh Goddess, it hurt!

The pain was truly excruciating. Yet worse by far was the particular character of that agony, the invasive violation of his person. The unnatural stretching and stuffing of his formerly unnoticed insides was beyond horrible. The idea that people (gays for example) could crave this sensation was incomprehensible. More traumatizing still was the emotional assault.

It seemed a hundred schoolyard taunts reverberated through him. Even as Goddess screamed her triumph, and he wailed helplessly as he was so brutally taken, Alex heard the worst insults in his teenage lexicon accusing him.

He was a sissy, a butt-boy, a prison b***h; he was being corn-holed, fudge-packed, rump-reamed, cored and bored and buggered like the lowliest catamite. He was worse than flamboyantly gay in a way. The demeaning was so extreme his face flamed as though he was suspended upside down again. His guts roiled, tears streamed down his cheeks and not even his owner’s exultant arousal could redeem the devastating abyss of his humiliation.

“Oh, that’s so awesome! Goddamn, it’s been way too long! And whoo-boy, but you are delightfully tight! Courage now, my guilty little b***h – I’m going to pound you like a pile-driver. Learn to love this slave, ‘cause it’s the only kind of s*x you’ll ever experience.”

Learn to love it, sure. And she’d warned him against ejaculating? How much of a pervert did she think she was? Still as Mistress’ hands gripped his hips possessively Alex felt a twinge of submissive frisson at being so utterly controlled, so helplessly at the mercy of this righteous female authority.

She owned him, he owed her, and she could do whatever she wanted to him, even this most degrading of emasculations. But then she drew back (exquisite relief!) before ramming suddenly right back in, even harder than before.

Slammed against the stocks, Alex choked out another wail. Still he stayed true to his vow not to resist, though his only possible recourse was to clench defensively, which would no doubt only worsen the agony. With that in mind he made a conscious effort to relax, to loosen that outraged passage so that penetration would be easier.

This took a monumental effort – it suggested a complicity on his part that scaled that inner derision nearly to hysteria. Yet he was rewarded for this first step toward acceptance. As Goddess Rachel slid back and began slamming more swiftly into him, establishing a proper copulation, she praised him again with what he swore was genuine warmth.

“There you go! That’s my willing little b***h! It’s not so bad, is it? At least it’s not some repulsive hairy hillbilly or gang of vicious black dope-dealers all taking their turns.

“Honestly boy, if you’re going to cheat me of the cruel glee of forcible rape, why not go all the way and become my meekly eager erotic partner? I want to see you so aroused by my pegging that your impotence tortures you as much as when you’re secretly ogling my tits.”

Groaning as the tears dripped from his chin, Alex tried to imagine that and failed. But as his sodomizer thrust ever more vigorously into him her voice became downright cajoling. Its candid appeal played on his most obsequious impulses toward her.

“Learn to love being my b***h, baby. You can do it. It will make me happy, and encourage me to grant you comforts I otherwise wouldn’t. It will get you more than a blanket in time too. Of course this will lessen your suffering here, true. But fulfilling me in this way that no ever has will be an even better repayment on your debt.

‘So enjoy it, slave! Take your Goddess’ needy organ and savor every stroke. You’ve already earned my respect. In just one day you’ve even mellowed the hatred that’s burned in me for a year and a half. Now earn your way out of this dungeon and maybe, eventually up into my bed.”

With that Goddess dropped her exhortation to concentrate on his defloration. Only her heavy breathing and occasional sharp cries of effort and ecstasy punctuated her stabbing attack. His neck and wrists growing raw from being rhythmically rubbed against their oak bonds, his unsupported torso already causing his back to ache and his spread legs to quiver with strain, suffering the worst experience of his life (again, barring listening to a good man and innocent infant burn alive), Alex nevertheless felt a spike of excitement at this suggestion.

Did Goddess Rachel just say he could earn his way into her bed? And that she would value such closeness with him more than seeing him weep and scream in unending excruciation? Was she offering a kind of atonement that mixed the suffering he needed with the approval and intimacy he so pathetically craved?

Such a blessing was so unthinkably beyond what he could ever have expected – as this punishment so exceeded his worst dread – that Alex was thrown without warning into the most challenging conflict imaginable.

On the one hand was everything he’d been socialized to believe about proper gender roles, which informed his personality right down into the subconscious. On the other seemed a way out of the fatal trap of his guilt and self-loathing. He’d already been physically made over from a free and wealthy member of the protected aristocracy to a condemned prisoner and torture slave. Now he was being asked (by this absolute authority he owed his soul to) for a similar psychosexual transformation. Only by fundamentally altering his identity could he pursue the inner peace and personal fulfillment he’d assumed his crime had forfeited forever.

Such an alteration would not be easy. Yet what kind of miraculous reprieve would cost him nothing? And this was his Goddess ordering (no, requesting) that he emerge from tortured misery to craft (no, accept) the kind of new persona she needed in him to restore the happiness he’d reft from her, and pursue fulfillment in her own irrevocably diminished life.

Considered in that light, what moral choice did he have? Clinging to his previous self would only damage them both.

Somehow he must do as his owner urged and embrace existence as a lubricious little bugger-b***h. Nor could he fake this. The only way to achieve what she offered – share her bed, are you kidding me? – was to be completely sincere in his s****l and emotional growth. He must find a way to put aside his prejudices and learn to love what he’d always considered anathema.

Intellectual acceptance was easiest. He wasn’t worried about being ‘turned gay’. Girls may get to choose, but that was not the way it worked with men. Either you were attracted to other guys or you weren’t, and nothing could change it either way. It was a different stigma that needed to be overcome, namely his childish derision of the role he’d been chosen for. It was time to take to heart all the platitudes of tolerance and understanding that had been drilled into him growing up – but which he’d still been partially disregarding.

There was no blame for him in accepting this unconventional congress under the circumstances. Thus there was no real need for shame. Let that go, and maybe he could more properly appreciate this initiation. Still, what was there to love in being buggered?

He could start with that twinge he’d felt, and the excitement of bondage.

Goddess restraining him, and that possessive, controlling grip on his hips, his utter inability to resist her worst depravities, appealed to his compulsion for victimization. The justice in being subjected to this most hideous of punishments appealed to Alex as well, as did the awareness that glorious Goddess Rachel was in escalating ecstasies delivering it.

As her ever-more inspired spearing gored him so horribly, he at last perceived that this indeed was the ultimate act of domination. Possession, control, punishment; torture both physical and emotional inflicted by the s****l depredations of the female, it was the ultimate combination of elements. What more appropriate expression of their relationship could there be?

Goddess obviously knew best. And since he existed only to worship and serve and please her until she finally granted him the martyrdom he so needed, maybe he could find the arousal she urged in him through her, vicariously. Maybe he could empathetically appropriate some of that infectious estrus for himself.

Like a she-cat in heat indeed she sounded. Extraordinarily fit, the only evidence of the former warrior’s monstrous exertion as she endlessly increased her power and pace was the hissing of her laboring respiration. Sometimes she growled as she bore down; often she shrieked as some particularly vicious stroke stimulated her pudenda unbearably. Now as she climbed manically toward what could only be a cat-aclysmic climax, Goddess began to snarl ferociously and grunt unselfconsciously in a feral transport of peaking effort and urgency.

Even as he yelped and wept and burned with persistent humiliation, Alex caught the contagion at last. Despite the constant excruciating trauma of being so deeply and ruthlessly violated, it was just impossible not to be affected by such rampant arousal in a female he so wanted, revered – and had developed such a twisted s****l-suicidal obsession with.

Soon her gasps beget his own. Her obvious lust for using him at last began to excite a complementary response. Her hips slapped into him so violently and rapidly that his c**k swung wildly about, propelled by the impetus to slap rhythmically up against his abdomen. The kinetics of this coupled with his erotic awakening made him begin to lengthen and thicken: an erection was on its way. Perhaps an even more essential and rewarding symbiosis than that they established this afternoon was truly about to be achieved. Perhaps learning to love this was actually within his grasp. Unfortunately epiphany had eluded Alex a bit too long.

On the brink of breakthrough, he was preempted by his Goddess’ prerogative.

After a year and a half of widow’s celibacy, her prime femininity could be restrained no longer. Peak reached, her shrieks scaled upward. Yet even as this evidence of orgasm augmented Alex’ sympathetic excitement, her ass-hammering accelerated just as insanely.

Such incredible excruciation quickly drove everything but itself from his awareness. All Alex could do was grit his teeth against his screams and endure a goring torture that beggared belief until his owner’s apocalyptic throe was over. Then when she at last disengaged and staggered back, only the fact that it would have choked him or even broken his neck kept gasping Alex from collapse.