The Smuggler
I picked up Ahmed from King’s Cross, a bustling hub of activity that never truly sleeps. The neon lights flickered and the sound of distant traffic filled the air as he slid into the backseat of my London black cab. His dark eyes were shifty, darting from side to side as if he were expecting someone to jump out from the shadows. He gave me an address in a tone that suggested urgency, and I nodded curtly, pulling away from the curb. The engine rumbled to life, and we melded into the stream of vehicles winding through the streets of London.
Ahmed was a man in his 40s, with a thick, dark moustache that framed his lips. His eyes were a deep brown, and his skin was a warm, golden olive. He had a lean face, with high cheekbones and a sharp jawline. His hair was thick and black, combed back from his forehead to reveal a prominent widow's peak. He was dressed in an expensive-looking black suit, with a crisp white shirt and a black tie. A gold chain glinted at his throat, and his fingers were adorned with rings that probably cost more than my entire taxi.
Ahmed was not my usual fare. His clothes were too nice, his shoes too shiny, and his watch too flashy for someone who looked as guarded as he did. The scent of danger wafted from his pores, and I could almost taste it. This was the man I had been searching for, the one whose name had been whispered in the darkest corners of the city. He was an Arab people smuggler, bringing in refugees with the promise of a better life, only to betray them to the lowest of the low. The thought of it made my blood boil with anger.
As we drove through the city, I studied him in the rearview mirror, noting every twitch and bead of sweat that formed on his brow. He was nervously tapping his foot, and his hand kept sliding into his pocket to check his phone, only to retreat again. I knew that he had a shipment coming in today. Seven lives he was going to ruin. And I knew that I was about to add one more life to the tally of those he had ruined. The thought sent a cold smile spreading across my face, a grim anticipation of the reckoning that was to come.
I took a sharp left, veering off the main road and onto a quieter, more desolate path. Ahmed's eyes grew wide with alarm as he realized we were no longer heading towards the bright lights of the city. "Where are you taking me?" he demanded.
"Don't worry," I replied calmly, keeping my eyes on the road. "We're just taking a little detour."
Ahmed's voice was thick with a distinct Arabic accent, a hint of his Middle Eastern heritage that gave away his origins. It was a voice that had likely bargained with desperate souls, whispered sweet nothings of hope into the ears of the lost, and snarled threats to those who dared to cross him. Now, however, it was filled with the slightest tremor that betrayed his fear. "What do you mean?" he asked, the pitch rising slightly.
I took him to a deserted park on the outskirts of town, a place where the shadows danced in the moonlight and the only sound was the occasional rustle of leaves. The headlights of my taxi swept over the empty swings and the still, silent playground. It was the perfect spot for what I had in mind. "We're here," I announced, pulling over to the side of the road and killing the engine.
I turned to face Ahmed, my eyes locked on his. I smiled, a cold, calculated smile, and then I showed him the knife. Ahmed's eyes grew wide with terror as he took in the glint of steel.
Ahmed didn’t realise what was happening. Straight men never do. They go through life, thinking they're invincible, that the rules don't apply to them. That they can do whatever they want without consequence. But the universe has a way of balancing the scales, and tonight, Ahmed would learn that lesson the hard way.
"Who are you?" Ahmed asked, his voice shaking with fear. "Are you from the Khan gang?"
He thought I was from a rival smuggling gang. I just laughed, a cold, mirthless sound. "You'll find out soon enough," I said.
Ahmed had positioned himself in the farthest corner of the backseat. He didn't want to get out, didn't want to face whatever fate had in store for him. But I was not to be denied. I got out of the taxi, walking around to the passenger side door. I opened it, Ahmed tried to pull it shut, but I was too strong. I grabbed his arm, pulling him out of the taxi.
As he realized the gravity of his situation, Ahmed let out a loud string of curses and threats in Arabic. His voice echoed through the deserted park, a desperate cry that would go unanswered.
I dragged him out of the taxi, his feet scraping against the pavement. He stumbled, trying to regain his balance, but I held him in a tight grip. I pulled him away from the taxi, deeper into the park, until we were surrounded by darkness and shadows.
Ahmed looked up at me, his eyes filled with terror. He begged for mercy, but it was clear from my face, there would be no mercy tonight.
I pulled him closer, my grip tightening. "You know what you've done," I spat. "You've taken advantage of the desperate and the weak. You've sold them false hope and sent them into the arms of monsters. And now, it's time for you to pay the price."
Ahmed's eyes grew wide with realization as he took in the cold steel of the knife I held against his throat. "What do you want?" he croaked, his voice barely a whisper. "Money? I have plenty. Just tell me how much."
"It's not about money," I said, my voice low and menacing. "It's about justice. It's about making you understand what it feels like to be at the mercy of someone else."
With a swift motion, I dragged Ahmed to a nearby park bench, the kind that lovers might share a kiss on in the early hours of the morning. But this was no romantic rendezvous. I pushed him down, his hands flying up to ward me off, but it was too late. The fear in his eyes grew.
"What are you doing?" he pleaded, his voice cracking. "Please, no, I'll give you anything."
Ignoring his desperate words, I pushed him down on to the bench, my strength surprising even me. His eyes searched for mercy, but all he found was the gleaming blade of the knife, now pressing against his cheek. "You think you can just buy your way out of this?" I sneered. "You think your money can save you from what you've done?"
Ahmed's breathing grew more frantic as he struggled against my grip. "Please," he whispered, "I have a family. A wife, children. They need me."
"That's unfortunate," I said, the knife grazing his skin, not hard enough to draw blood, but enough for him to know I was serious. "But it doesn't change what you are."
Ahmed's eyes widened with horror. His breathing grew more erratic, his body trembling beneath me. "What are you?" he whispered, his voice shaking with fear.
"I am vengeance," I hissed, the words tasting sweet on my lips. "I am the justice that the system fails to deliver. And tonight, you will learn the true meaning of punishment."
Ahmed's eyes grew wild with desperation. He bucked and wriggled beneath me, trying to break free, but my grip was like iron. "No," he screamed, his voice echoing through the deserted park. "Please, please don't kill me! Not like this".
“I’m not going to kill you Ahmed,” I said calmly “what I have in store for you is much worse.”
In a flash of panic, he managed to get one arm free and swiped at me with surprising strength. His hand connected with my face, and I felt a sting of pain, but it was nothing compared to the rage that surged through me. I grabbed the back of his head and slammed it into the bench, stunning him momentarily. His eyes rolled back into his head, and his body went limp. But it wasn't over yet.
With a snarl, I yanked down his trousers and underpants, exposing his cock and balls to the cold night air. He came to with a start, his eyes snapping open to find himself in an even more degrading situation than before. "Please," he gasped, his voice a broken whisper. "Please don't do this."
But my mind was made up. I pulled out my cock, already hard and throbbing with anticipation. Ahmed's eyes went wide as he stared at it uncomprehending,, his mouth opening in a silent scream. He tried to pull away, his legs kicking out wildly, but I had him pinned. He had nowhere to go, no one to save him. This was his punishment.
"Suck it," I ordered, pressing the head of my cock against his lips. He recoiled, his eyes filling with tears. "You've forced others to do worse, now it's your turn."
Ahmed's eyes darted from side to side, searching for an escape, but all he found was the inescapable darkness of the park. With a burst of adrenaline, he tried to push me away, his hand flailing towards my face. I caught his wrist and twisted it cruelly behind his back, forcing him off the bench and on to his knees. He grimaced in pain, but his struggles only served to excite me further.
"You're going to suck my cock," I repeated, my voice a mix of anger and arousal. "And if you're a good boy, you’ll get to see your family again."
Ahmed's eyes filled with a mix of fear and disgust, but he knew better than to refuse. With a trembling hand, I forced his mouth open and guided my cock inside. He gagged immediately, his eyes watering as he struggled to adjust to the intrusion. The taste of his own fear was intoxicating, and I could feel his body tense as he choked back his vomit. "Swallow it," I said, pushing deeper, enjoying the power I held over him.
He tried to pull away, his tongue pushing against my shaft in a desperate attempt to escape, but I held his head firmly in place. "You will take it all," I hissed, my grip tightening. Ahmed's eyes grew wide with panic as he realized the futility of his struggle. With a deep breath, he closed his eyes and took me deeper, trying his best to keep his dinner down.
I could feel the bile rising in his throat, his body fighting the violation, but I was relentless. Each time he gagged, I thrust harder, forcing him to swallow his own revulsion. The sounds of his retching filled the quiet night air, mixing with the harsh panting of his breath. His hands clawed at my legs, trying to find purchase, but I was too strong for him.
Ahmed looked like a man who had been dragged through hell and back. His eyes were bloodshot, tears streaming down his cheeks as he tried to comprehend the horror of what was happening to him. His fancy suit was in disarray, the shiny fabric now rumpled and stained with dirt from the bench. His hair was a mess, the gel no longer holding it in place, and the gold chain around his neck had become a choking collar of fear. The knife was still at his cheek, a silent reminder of the fate that awaited him if he didn't cooperate.
I watched him with a mix of satisfaction and disdain. This man, who had brought so much pain and suffering to others, now writhed in agony beneath me. I could feel his desperation to survive, his body begging for mercy even as he knew it would never come. I pulled out of his mouth, smacking his lips with the head of my cock before plunging back in. He gagged and coughed, his throat convulsing around me, but I didn't relent.
“You like that?" I taunted. "You like the taste of my cock?"
Ahmed could only whine in response, his eyes pleading for relief. I smirked, pulling out of his mouth with a cruel laugh. "But we're not done yet," I murmured, standing up and unbuckling my pants. "You're going to get a taste of what you deserve."
Ahmed's eyes widened in horror as I positioned him on the bench, on his back with his legs in the air. The cold steel of the knife pressed against his inner thigh was a stark contrast to the heat of my skin. He struggled weakly, but the fear had drained his strength. He was mine to do with as I please.
With a flick of my wrist, I sliced through the fabric of his trousers and underwear, the material giving way with a sharp rip. His bare ass was exposed to the cool night air, and he whimpered. His body was trembling, whether from cold or fear, it didn’t matter to me.
I stepped closer, positioning myself between his spread legs. His hole was tight and untouched, a stark contrast to the depravity that lurked in his soul. He squirmed, trying to close his legs, but I grabbed his ankles, holding them in the air. His body was open to me, vulnerable and exposed.
Ahmed's eyes were wide with terror as he stared up at me, his chest heaving with panic. "Please," he whimpered, "please don't."
But I had no mercy for this monster. I grabbed the torn fabric of his trousers and underwear, and with one swift motion, I pulled them completely off, leaving him naked and trembling before me. I knelt between his legs, my cock pointing straight at his exposed hole. It was a sight that made the hunger that is deep inside me howl.
Ahmed's face was a portrait of fear and despair. His features were marred by the sheer terror etched into his brow, his eyes wide and pleading. His mouth was open in a silent scream, his teeth clenched against the pain that was about to come. His nose was sharp and hawkish, and his cheekbones high, giving him a predatory look that was now twisted into one of complete helplessness.
I took a moment to appreciate the power I had over him before I lined up my cock with his tight, unyielding ass. He was handsome in a cruel, calculating way—the kind of man who would sell his own mother for a fistful of dirty money. Now, he was about to experience the kind of degradation he had inflicted on others.
As I began to push into him, his eyes squeezed shut tightly, and his face contorted in pain. His ass was tight, resisting my intrusion, but I was insistent. The feeling of his hole giving way was like nothing I had ever experienced—like the victory of conquering a fortress that had never been breached. His muscles clenched around me, and I felt a thrill run up my spine as I claimed his body for my own twisted justice.
Ahmed's cries grew louder with each thrust, echoing through the deserted park. His nails dug into the wood of the bench, leaving deep grooves as he desperately tried to find some semblance of control over the situation. The sound of his pain was music to my ears, a sweet symphony of suffering that I had dreamed of for so long.
As I fucked him, I watched his face contort in agony, his muscles clenching and unclenching as he tried to adjust to the unfamiliar intrusion. His breathing was ragged, his chest heaving with each gasp. He was no longer the feared people smuggler, but a mere shell of a man, broken by the very same fear he had instilled in so many others.
His ass was tight, but with each violent thrust, it began to give way, loosening around my cock. It felt like I was tearing into the very fabric of his being, stripping away his pride and power. The initial resistance was now replaced by a sickening squelch as I pushed deeper and deeper into him. His body was no longer his own, it was a receptacle for my rage and my lust.
Ahmed's cries grew more desperate with each second that passed and his legs quivered uncontrollably. I could feel his body trying to push me out, to resist the violation, but my strength was unyielding. Each time he tried to clench, I pushed harder, forcing his muscles to submit to me. His ass was a battleground, and I was the victor, planting my flag in the conquered territory.
But then something unexpected happened. Ahmed's body began to betray him. He started to get hard. The realization dawned on him, and his eyes went wide with shock and disbelief. I couldn't help but laugh—a cruel, mirthless sound that bounced off the trees and echoed through the park. "You see," I taunted, "You're nothing but a fucking slut, aren't you?"
Ahmed's eyes darted to his erection, then back to me, filled with a mix of confusion and horror. His cheeks flushed a deep red, and he tried to hide his growing arousal, but it was too late. The sight of his hardening cock was a delicious twist of the knife. He was disgusted with himself, and that was exactly what I wanted. "How can you?" he choked out, his voice filled with revulsion.
I smirked, reaching down to wrap my hand around his shaft. He jerked at the sudden touch, but I held firm. His dick was hot and pulsing in my grasp, and the feel of it only served to fuel my own desire. I began to stroke him roughly, watching his face contort with each tug. "You're pathetic," I murmured, my voice thick with contempt. "You can't even control your own body."
Ahmed's cock was cut, as was customary for many Arab men. The shaft was the same shade of olive as his complexion but the head was a deep red. It was an interesting contrast, I mused on this for a while as I ploughed in and out of his ass.
It was a big dick, no doubt about it. Thick and veiny, it filled my palm completely and spilled over my fingers. It was the kind of cock that could bring a man to his knees—or in this case, bring a man to his knees in a very different way. I stroked him harder, watching his eyes roll back in his head as the pleasure began to override the pain. His hips bucked slightly, pushing back into my hand as if he couldn't help himself.
"Fuck," he grunted, the word forced from his lips despite his protests. His ass was tightening around me, and I knew he was close to the edge. I could feel the beginnings of his orgasm, the way his muscles clenched and spasmed, the way his breathing grew erratic. It was a strange power dynamic, this dance of pleasure and pain, but it was one I reveled in.
Ahmed's body betrayed him completely as he came with a strangled cry. His hot cum spurted into my hand, and I reveled in the feeling of his release. But it was not a moment of triumph for him; it was a sign of his utter degradation. He had been reduced to this, to a man who could not even control his own body, forced to cum by the very person who was violating him.
With a sadistic grin, I smeared his own cum across his face, watching the disgust and humiliation play out in the stark moonlight. The sticky fluid clung to his cheeks and his thick moustache. Ahmed's eyes were squeezed shut, his body convulsing with the last spasms of his unwanted orgasm.
But I wasn't finished with him yet. The rage that had brought me here was still a living, breathing beast inside me, demanding more. "You think that's it?" I snarled. "You think that's all the punishment you get?"
Ahmed's eyes went wide with fear as he realized my intentions. He tried to pull away, his legs kicking wildly, but I was too strong for him. "No, please," he begged, his voice hoarse and trembling. "No more."
Ignoring his pleas, I slammed into him again and again, my cock a weapon of justice in the night. The sound of our bodies colliding filled the quiet park, a macabre soundtrack to his punishment. His cries grew louder, his body shaking with each thrust, but I was relentless. I fucked him even more relentlessly than I had before.
Ahmed's body was a wreck, sweat glistening on his skin and his eyes swollen from crying. His legs were trembling, his muscles no longer able to hold his weight. I leaned down, my face inches from his, and whispered, "You're going to take every inch of me, every drop of my cum, and you're going to thank me for it."
He couldn't even muster the strength to protest, his voice a broken whisper. "Please," he managed, his eyes pleading. "Take it out. I'll do anything."
But I wasn't listening. I kept on fucking him, my cock a steel rod in his torn asshole. The pain and pleasure had become one for him, a twisted symphony of sensation that I controlled with each brutal thrust. His body was my plaything, and I had no intention of stopping. I was lost in the moment, my own climax building with every grunt and whimper that fell from his lips.
And then, finally, I felt it. The pressure building in my balls, the heat rising in my cock. I pulled out just long enough to watch his asshole spasm around my shaft, begging for release. And with a roar that echoed through the deserted park, I slammed back into him, filling him with my hot, sticky cum. It was a powerful, primal sensation, and I felt it all the way to my core.
Ahmed's body went rigid as he felt me cum inside him, his eyes squeezed shut in a silent scream. His muscles clenched around me, trying to expel the foreign invader, but I held firm, pumping him full of my seed. The knife was still at his throat, a reminder that this was not a moment of passion, but a brutal assertion of dominance.
As the last of my cum spurted into him, I leaned in close and kissed him. He was crying now, hot tears mixing with the sweat on his face. The taste of salt and fear coated his lips, and I savored it. His body was still, defeated, as he took in the horror of what had just happened.
I leaned in closer, my breath hot on his ear. "Do you feel it?" I whispered, my voice a mix of anger and lust. "Do you feel what it's like to be powerless?"
Ahmed's body was trembling beneath me, his eyes squeezed shut as he tried to block out the reality of what was happening. But there was no escape, no respite from the punishment he was receiving. His whimpers grew louder, his body writhing in a futile attempt to break free from the steel grip of my hands. The knife was still pressed against his cheek, a reminder of the price of his freedom.
"How can you do this to me?" he choked out, his voice barely audible. "I have a wife... children. They need me."
I lay with him for a while like lovers, his body trembling beneath mine, my cock still lodged deep inside his ravaged ass. His words hung in the air, thick with despair. I stroked his hair gently, feeling the sticky sweat matting it to his scalp.
Ahmed's sobs grew louder, his body shaking with the horror of what had been done to him. "How can I?" he choked out, his voice thick with pain and disbelief. "How can I face her?"
I leant down and whispered in his ear, "You can't." My breath was warm against his neck, sending a shiver down his spine. "You're a monster, Ahmed. You're the kind of man who deserves to live in the shadows, never to feel the warmth of another's touch."
With those final, damning words, I withdrew from him, my cock slipping from his ass. He tried to sit up but slumped forward, his body a broken mess on the bench. I tucked my cock back into my pants, zipping up with a sense of satisfaction. The knife was still in my hand, but I no longer needed it. The damage had been done.
Ahmed's sobs grew quieter as I stepped back, taking in the scene before me. His expensive suit was torn and stained, his body bruised. The bench beneath him was a testament to the depravity that had occurred—sticky with sweat and semen, marred with the evidence of his violation. He didn’t look up as I walked away, his dignity shattered into a million pieces on the cold, hard ground.
I didn’t bother to wipe the sweat from my brow or the spit from my chin. The only thing on my mind was leaving this place, getting as far away from Ahmed and the darkness I had just unleashed as possible. As I turned to leave, the moon cast a silver light on the path ahead, illuminating my way out of the park.
