Content Warning
This story contains explicit scenes of sexual violence, non-consensual acts, physical violence, abuse, and other disturbing themes that may be triggering to some readers. Reader discretion is strongly advised.
"No… no, stop," Beom whimpered, his hands frantically pushing against Sasha's chest, fingers digging in with all his remaining strength, though his body trembled in exhaustion. His voice quivered, a broken whisper filled with desperation. But Sasha only leaned in closer, eyes glinting with a dark thrill as he pinned Beom's wrists above his head.
"It would be so much fun breaking the shit out of you," Sasha said, a smirk playing on his lips as he held Beom-Ki's gaze, reveling in the fear and vulnerability he saw there.
"No, let go!" Beom's voice cracked, the plea barely audible, but his defiance flared up in one last attempt to push Sasha off. Yet Sasha's grip was unrelenting, fingers like iron, keeping him firmly in place. And then, with one brutal thrust, Sasha forced his way in, the searing pain striking through Beom's body instantly. His breath hitched, eyes widening as he felt the sharp, burning sensation of tearing flesh, blood flowing as pain and horror washed over him in equal measure.
"No… no, it can't be… not again," Beom thought, panic rising in his chest. Memories resurfaced, haunting him, filling his mind with images he wished he could erase. His heart pounded so hard it was deafening, the sound drowning out all rational thought.
"I… I can't breathe," he whispered in his head, feeling his body freeze, his muscles locking up, paralyzed in terror. The room felt colder, suffocating, as darkness closed in around him. His vision blurred, mind racing yet unable to escape, trapped in a nightmare that had clawed its way back from his past.
"Ugh," Sasha groaned, his voice rough, a hint of frustration mingling with satisfaction. "Too tight," he muttered under his breath, pulling out to the very edge before thrusting forward again with unrestrained force. "AAH!" Beom's scream tore through the room, filled with pain and desperation.
"No, stop! Let go… stop!" he pleaded, his hands pressing against Sasha's chest in a feeble attempt to push him away. His body trembled, each push weakening as Sasha's weight bore down on him, unyielding. "Aah… stop, stop, it hurts!"
Beom gasped, his voice breaking, one hand reaching up to push at Sasha's face, trying anything to create distance. But Sasha's response was a brutal grip on his waist, his fingers digging in harder, pulling Beom closer as he continued with ruthless, quickening jabs. Beom's mind was spinning, his body instinctively trying to squirm away, to retreat from the pain, but Sasha's relentless pace only increased, trapping him in place. His legs strained, a desperate attempt to crawl backward, but every motion seemed to provoke Sasha to move faster, driving deeper.
"Aaaah! Stop, please!" Beom begged, his voice hoarse, the plea barely escaping his lips as he felt his strength slipping, his body betraying him, pinned and overpowered. The room seemed to close in around him, the echoes of his own voice lingering as he struggled to breathe, every movement met with Sasha's unrelenting force.
""You… son of a aahh!!…" Beom-ki hissed, his voice laced with defiance as he tried to push Sasha away. "Let go of me, you monster… I'll make you pay…" His hands pressed against Sasha's chest in an attempt to resist, though Sasha simply chuckled, unfazed by Beom-ki's struggle.
The quiet creak of the bed accompanied their movements, a rhythmic sound underscoring the tension between them. Beom-ki's breath came in shallow, ragged gasps, his face twisted with discomfort and frustration. He averted his gaze, avoiding the reflection in the nearby mirror that seemed to capture the intensity of the moment, as though mocking him.
But Sasha noticed. With a firm hand, he grabbed Beom-ki's chin, turning his face back to the mirror. "Look at yourself," Sasha murmured, his tone almost taunting. "Look at how captivating you are… look at how well you play along." The words dripped with a twisted sense of satisfaction, his gaze unwavering.
In response, Beom-ki's eyes narrowed with fierce determination. A moment of defiance flashed in his expression before he spat directly at Sasha, the gesture sharp and filled with disgust. "You disgust me," he growled, his voice brimming with pure hatred.
Sasha paused, wiping his cheek before his eyes met Beom-ki's, a dark grin spreading across his lips. "Now you've really provoked me," he muttered, his grip tightening on Beom-ki's wrists as his movements became even more intense, relentless.
"Ugh… nghhh!"
Beom-ki gritted his teeth, torn between defiance and helplessness. His mind raced with fury and frustration, each moment drawing him further into a storm of conflicting emotions. The intensity, the power struggle, and the force of Sasha's will over him left him feeling trapped, yet he couldn't stop the string of low, involuntary gasps escaping his lips, betraying his struggle to hold back.
"Nghh… haah… it hurts,"
Sasha's grip on Beom-ki remained unrelenting, his movements deliberate and calculated as he loomed over him. The dim light of the room cast shadows across Sasha's sharp features, making his expression appear even more menacing. His grin stretched wider, cruel and full of dark amusement, as he tilted his head to observe Beom-ki.
"Hnnngh! Aahh! —aaaghhh!"
Beom-ki's breaths came in ragged bursts, his face flushed from exertion and barely-contained fury. His eyes burned with defiance despite the position he found himself in, and yet, Sasha's words cut through his defenses like a blade.
"What if…" Sasha began, his voice low and almost velvety, dripping with a sinister undertone, "I turned you into a woman?" He paused, letting the weight of his statement hang in the air, his gaze fixed on Beom-ki's face, reveling in the flicker of shock and indignation that crossed it. "What if I reopened your precious surgery?" His fingers brushed over Beom-ki's wrist, a mocking gentleness that belied the threat in his words.
Beom-ki's body stiffened beneath him, his jaw tightening as if to block the torrent of emotions Sasha's suggestion unleashed. His heart pounded furiously against his ribcage, anger and disbelief mingling in equal measure. This bastard... The thought screamed in his mind, but his lips refused to give Sasha the satisfaction of a response.
Sasha leaned closer, his grin growing darker, more predatory. "And then…" he continued, his tone soft yet laced with malice, "I'd make you mine. Impregnate you. Watch as you carry my child. My woman…" He emphasized the last two words, his voice practically a purr, as if savoring the very idea.
Beom-ki's eyes flared with fury, his breathing turning shallow as his fingers curled into fists. "You're insane," he spat, his voice trembling with suppressed rage. "You think you can control me? That you can turn me into some... some toy for your sick fantasies?"
Sasha chuckled at the outburst, clearly entertained by Beom-ki's reaction. "Oh, Beom-ki," he said, his tone almost condescending, as if speaking to a stubborn child. "You underestimate how far I'm willing to go for something I want. And right now…" He leaned in closer, his lips brushing against Beom-ki's ear as he whispered, "I want you."
The proximity made Beom-ki's stomach churn, a mix of disgust and a deep-seated anger that threatened to consume him. His mind raced, every fiber of his being screaming at him to fight back, to escape. I won't let him win. I won't let this bastard have the satisfaction of breaking me.
"You'll never own me," Beom-ki hissed, his voice low but filled with venom. His eyes locked onto Sasha's, the intensity in his gaze refusing to waver despite the dire circumstances. "Do whatever you want. You'll still be a pathetic excuse for a man."
For a brief moment, the room was silent except for the sound of their heavy breathing. Sasha's grin faltered slightly, his eyes narrowing as the words struck a nerve. But then, as if regaining control, he laughed softly, the sound low and unsettling. "Keep talking, Beom-ki. I enjoy this fire in you. It makes breaking you all the more rewarding."
"F-Fuck you, Hnnngh! Aahh! ... aaaghhh!" Beom-ki muttered through clenched teeth, his voice trembling with a mixture of fury, humiliation, and defiance. His body was taut, every muscle braced as if he could somehow push Sasha away through sheer willpower.
Sasha's laughter was low and rich, vibrating with dark amusement as he leaned closer, his breath brushing against Beom-ki's ear. "Oh, but that's exactly what I'm doing, darling," he murmured, his tone dripping with mockery. Before Beom-ki could respond, Sasha's strong hands moved with a practiced ease, flipping him onto his stomach. Beom-ki let out a sharp gasp, his face pressing into the pillow, his arms pinned beneath him.
"Haah…" Sasha sighed contentedly, running a hand down the length of Beom-ki's spine, savoring the way his body tensed at the contact. "That's right. Keep your pretty little face buried in that pillow and take it like a good boy." His voice was low, each word calculated to cut through Beom-ki's resistance like a blade.
Beom-ki's face burned with a mix of rage and embarrassment. His breathing was shallow, uneven, as he bit his lip hard enough to draw blood, desperate to stifle any sound that might betray his inner turmoil. I'm not weak, he repeated to himself, the mantra echoing in his mind like a desperate lifeline. I won't let him win. I won't break for him.
But his body betrayed him. Each of Sasha's movements sent a jolt of sensation through him that he couldn't ignore, no matter how much he willed himself to stay detached. His mind screamed in protest even as his body reacted, his muscles trembling under Sasha's unyielding grip.
The sharp sound of Sasha's hand meeting his skin filled the room as he delivered a sudden slap to Beom-ki's backside. The impact stung, sending a ripple through his body that made him flinch involuntarily. Sasha chuckled at the reaction, his amusement growing as he watched Beom-ki's fingers curl into the pillow, gripping it tightly as if to anchor himself.
"Such a fighter," Sasha said, his tone laced with mockery. "But even fighters know when they're beaten." His hand slid over the curve of Beom-ki's hip, steadying him as he continued, his movements deliberate and unrelenting.