Naked, on his knees, the last knot binding his wrists, Steve knew this was the inevitable last moment of a long series of events. The last time he could have said, “No,” or in another way escaped from what was going to happen was long before. It wasn’t in the car, or over the last drink, or even when the man introduced himself. It was when he looked him in the eye and Steve wanted to be used, taken, covered with spit and cum and bite and slap marks—when he was overcome by the need to be reduced to two slick, warm holes.
Submitting to the need to submit.
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