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Kinktober

Non-consensual

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Broken by the Husky

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Written by Arian Mabe (Amethyst Mare)

Commissioned by anonymous

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Harris groaned, face down on the bed. At least, he thought it was a bed, quivering, sweat soaking his skin, trickling down his back. He hated that feeling, the sensation of a bead of sweat easing between his shoulder blades, finding that light channel in the centre of his back where his spine was. It made him itch and want to rub it away, but fur and muscle pressing over him denied even that right from him.

“No… Please… Stop…"

He begged, even though the man knew that it wouldn't do him any good. He'd tried so many times since being picked up at the bar, scrambling and shaking his head, holding his hands up, even crying out and begging for help, but none of it had done any good. No one back there had thought that Harris was really in trouble, laughing at him, toasting him, waving him off. They'd only thought that he was another bloke in line for a damn good time with the big, muscular husky with the flirty, curled tail, even though Harris had said that he was good, thank you, that he didn't want to go home with Stan.

Stan, however, hadn't seen things the same way. Harris groaned under him, wishing himself somewhere else, even as his traitorous body prickled with deep arousal. He could not deny that his cock was hard, but that did not change anything, how he twitched and ached and desperately craved to be somewhere else. Maybe if he had not had so many drinks in him, if the husky male had been a malamute female instead… He was braver with them, even though he chanced that what he had experienced in his kinky life so far was most likely rougher than anything the male husky could ever have done to him.

He was wrong and right, both at the same time. Clever, wasn't he? But Harris didn't feel clever at all as the muscled husky grasped him by the back of his neck, pain lancing through him as he was hefted up solely from that. Harris' pained gasp fell on deaf ears, Stan merely chuckling at his obvious pain and discomfort, tossing him over onto the floor. Thankfully for him, there was a thin rug there to cushion his fall. That was something, but not very much.

“Urf…"

“What's the matter, tiny man?" He mocked Harris, kicking him in the hip so that he fell again when he was trying to push himself up. “Can't get up? I thought you liked them tough."

Maybe word about Harris had gotten around in the muscle-anthro circles, the types of furs that liked to take those smaller than them to use and abuse. Harris would never have denied his inclinations when it got him something good, but the sick chill of fear twisting through him did not tease anything from the purely non-consensual into the consensual. Not there, not then, not ever.

His body was bare and the husky smirked as his cock emerged, hardly needing any attention at all as it lazily swelled. With Harris on his back, he could kneel astride the man's chest, casually punching his face to the side. Where the husky did not put all that much physical effort into the blow, it still snapped Harris' head aside, ears ringing, gasping and heaving, stomach roiling in nausea.

But the cock pressing over his face, smacking him, jerking and slapping into his cheeks, on both sides, didn't help matters. His hands came up shakily as if some part of Harris still believed that, in some way, he could resist what was happening to him, but the husky batted them aside as if they were nothing more than matchsticks to him.

“Ever taken a real cock, boi?" He laughed, throat trembling with deep mirth. “Probably not. Though a slut like you has to be good at something."

No…

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Please no…

But the words did not pass Harris' lips, moving, a trickle of metallic blood in there from where he had bitten his cheek, though there was nothing he could do. The husky dragged his head up only enough to jam his cock into Harris' mouth, scraping teeth but not caring. It was not the husky, after all, that was against rougher play, the tease of pressure there only making it all the better for him when Stan was the one in control.

Harris hacked and gagged, that massive shaft pounding into the back of his throat instantly – but there was nowhere else for it to go! His ears rung. What did the husky think he was doing? He couldn't suck a cock like that! He had before, a few times, yes, but that was not the only way his inclinations swung, hands up against the husky's abdomen and thigh, not sure quite where he was grabbing. His vision was taken up by the husky's white and grey-furred stomach, abs tight and hard beneath, muscles contracted in his tree trunk-like thighs as if he could have crushed Harris' head between them without a second thought to it.

It could have been hot if he'd wanted it…but he didn't and he couldn't, barely able to breathe as his face was savagely fucked. The husky knew well enough that he could do whatever he wanted to Harris and get away with it, for who was going to believe Harris? What that a nice, cute, sweet, kind husky had raped him? Hadn't they seen his curly tail? Huskies were adorable! Even the big, brash, masculine ones, the ones that were rough and studly and could take whatever they liked, just like malamutes and their cousins, the wolves. They were well known for sharing rougher traits and yet so many thought that they were cuddly and innocent.

That was just one of many things that worked against Harris as he pushed and shoved weakly, wondering why he was even trying to fight back, his cock softening a bit, half-hard. He couldn't do anything, his natural submission pulling him down, making him feel as if he was floating and wavering, not present in any reality that he honestly recognised. All he knew was the brute force of that cock breaking his lips, skin fractured and broken, slamming into the back of his mouth, hacking and gagging, drooling and spluttering.

In that moment, he was no longer Harris, but an unwilling sex toy – and no doubt one that would be tossed out like the rubbish he was when the husky was good and done with him.

Stan snarled, though there was nothing in the world that could have stripped that menacing note from a snarl. Harris could only shudder, his hands on the husky's hips, flailing weakly, failing at even trying to advocate and stand up for himself. It was no use, no good, sinking down and down and down. Or maybe it was the punch that had done it for him, showing him how weak and useless he was against the husky.

It was hard to make sense of everything when the acts could have turned him on if he had been accepting of it more openly, though he forced himself to rise against it, to tell himself that it was not wanted, no, not at all. Yet he would never have chosen to give the husky head despite enjoying rougher play, his cock aching and throbbing, even as the husky withdrew to smack his cock into the side of Harris' head.

“Go on, take a breath," Stan mocked him. “You're going to fucking need it, bitch."

Maybe that was true. Maybe he would need it, maybe he didn't even know up much he needed it, but it was hard to think about anything other than just how that smear of pre-cum felt on his face, the husky already so overprotective that it was as if he was climaxing already. Yet the worst was yet to come as Harris was hauled up, a mess of arms and legs and flailing limbs, dropped over the arm of a chair in the corner of the room. It was only then that Harris realised, dimly, through a haze of strained pain, that he was not in a home, but a more staged room, something like a hotel room. Not that it would do him any good when his throat was already too raw to scream for help.

He was shoved and positioned, crudely and roughly, the husky digging his short claws into the man's flesh and skin, until his arse was raised just right. It could not have been all that good of a backside, Harris tried to reason with himself, not good enough for the husky, he was sure. Yet all his pleading with himself came to nought as his anal ring was stretched around the cock that had been in his mouth only a short while ago. And he knew intimately how big it was, how it would ache and burn, feeling as if it was splitting him open from the inside out.

He hoped against weak hope that his howl of pain would be heard through the doors, though none of that at all came to light as he was pounded in the arse with no lube at all. Not that that would have helped, not really, but he might have felt a little better for it. The husky was only there to take what he needed from him, so such a thing would not have crossed the mind of the brute, holding him down by the hips, even as Harris flailed. He barely even twitched, even though his body felt as if he was thrashing and heaving, fighting tooth and nail, while the bigger, more powerful part of him knew that he could not do anything.

He shut down, brokenly gasping and whimpering as thrust after thrust sawed into his backside, pain echoing through him, though each thrust came with a fresh wave of it. There was no holding it back and neither did Harris honestly feel like that was a possibility at all, grunting and heaving, his head down, tipped forward over the chair as if his body was just there as a prop. The husky, surely, could have gotten just as much pleasure from a fleshlight, though that was not Harris' call to make, his body broken and abused, bruises spreading across his body from where he had been tossed about so coarsely and crudely.

“Yes… Fuck… Yes!"

Stan ground into him, the slap of his furred hips on Harris' backside filling the room, though it was too late, by far, for him to be rescued, the dog's brutally large knot swelling. Harris could not even be sure if he screamed or made any sound at all as the huge, bulbous knot ground into him and locked them together, inflating fully within his backside. Split apart from the inside out, he wouldn't have been at all surprised if there'd been a trickle of blood down there, his stomach lurching sickeningly.

Just there to be used… All against his will. What was a man to do against a husky that big and powerful, trying to hold on through it, solely hoping, by that point, that he would live through the experience? With powerful furs in the world like Stan, intent only on taking what they pleased and their own pleasure, it was always a toss-up.

His cock had softened long ago by the time that the husky eventually bellowed a roar, time having lost all meaning as Harris bore through his rape. His taking was coarse and crude and left him hanging as limply as a rag doll, no semblance of self left and no orgasm, of course, allowed to him. What traitorous arousal had been present at the beginning most certainly was no longer there as he rolled his head from side to side, neck aching, dimly aware of the heaviness in his lower abdomen.

The husky ejaculated inside him, raking his short claws down Harris' back. Still, his cock spurted, adding more and more to the huge load already inside the man, a good, tight sleeve for his dick and yet no more than that. Stan didn't need more than that.

“I don't soften for a while, slut," he growled, though Harris did not have the energy to look around. “

He shuddered. His rape was not yet over.

And, still, he would have to bear through it.