Page 22 of Henrikk’s Masquerade

The bulging tip of the general’s cock had pushed through his sphincter, setting off a chain reaction of sensations that overwhelmed his body. Wave upon wave of lust edged with discomfort coiled through him, rendering his whole body weak.

It was hard to believe that they’d only just begun; it was just the head of Asher’s cock that had breached him, but the invasion felt monumental in size as it made him stretch and hurt.

Sickening nausea filled Henrikk as he waited in dread for the rest of Asher’s length. But Asher held still, not letting Henrikk move away, but not forcing himself deeper, either. He just waited patiently, giving Henrikk time to adjust to his size. But how could one adjust to the feeling of another man’s ramrod straight cock jutting into him?

He was a cold, shivering mess, with a deep uncomfortable ache gouging into him, unleashing waves of pain mixed with euphoria that washed through his being.

“You feel just as tight as I imagined,” Asher groaned in an awed tone. “So fucking tight.”

“You have no right to do this,” Henrikk protested, but his words lacked conviction, and Asher wasn’t fooled.

“I love how your ass feels.” Suddenly, Asher shuddered, and for a moment Henrikk wondered if he’d come—and was surprised to feel a twinge of relief when he realised he hadn’t. Asher nibbled his ear, whispering, “Whoa. Nearly lost control there. Finally…it’s my turn to fuck you. Hold still as I fill you.”

“Don’t you dare—” Henrikk’s voice cut off in a grating moan as Asher pushed into him, just another inch, but it was enough to wipe his mind of all thoughts.

Asher wasn’t just big. The man felt huge, and had Henrikk known it would feel this way—so intense, so astoundingly painful—then he might have taken it easier on Asher all those times he’d fucked him.

“Is that all of it?” Henrikk panted.

Asher laughed. “Not even halfway.”

Henrikk stifled a murmur as Asher pushed deeper into him. Yes, there was more, so much more, and every inch that Asher gained caused Henrikk to unravel further. It wasn’t just the violation that was causing him to go mad, nor the heady pleasure mixed with pain.

It was the thrill of knowing that it was Asher. Dear, dear Asher. That hot, sweet revelation electrified his body until he felt numb and his knees were quivering, threatening to give out. Asher kept him upright, his strong arms caging him in, his large, thick, unforgiving cock pushing deeper and deeper, breaking him.

It was too much. It was already past the point of being too much, and Henrikk couldn’t take any more.

“Stop, have mercy,” he wheezed.

But Asher kept going, ploughing deeper and deeper into him, and there was nothing Henrikk could do to stop him as his mouth opened in a silent scream.

Finally, Asher bottomed out and groaned a series of swear words that made Henrikk’s balls squeeze. “Oh fuck,” Asher gasped. “Oh fuck. I nearly came.”

Revulsion and shame engulfed Henrikk; the thought of Asher’s cum tainting him was sinful and alluring, and it made his face burn and his throat tighten as his breath fogged the air.

“Tell me if I’m hurting you,” Asher whispered.

“You’re hurting me,” Henrikk bit back.

He wasn’t used to pain. Had always had a low tolerance for it. His time in the military had steeled his willpower, taught him to push through difficult situations.

But pain was something that had always frightened him. Whether it was a violent uppercut to his jaw delivered by a soldier during sparring, a cracked and bruised rib, or simply a stubbed toe, Henrikk hated all forms of pain equally. Anything more than a papercut made him seethe, wondering why the universe was against him.

His body’s hypersensitivity to pain had not deterred him from greatness. No, it had motivated him to rise through the ranks, claim power, and ensure that no one ever had the power to hurt him.

And he’d succeeded, maintaining uncompromising control with an iron-grip.

Until now.

Until he’d allowed Asher to get the best of him. Henrikk was caught in a web of his own making, and he’d never been so scared in his life.

Was it possible to die from pure mortification? He hoped so. He couldn’t stand the way Asher touched him, unearthing his broken heart and trying to make it whole.

Henrikk sniffed.

Don’t look at me.

Don’t touch me.