The Demon and the Thief

He'd just finished rinsing the soap out of his hair. Peter Drinkwater turned and closed the handles, turning off the freezing water. He was startled as the handles began to spin again, just as he'd removed his hands from the handles. He watched in disbelief, jumping and screaming as cold water hit his head. He tried screwing the handles shut again, but they seemed to be stuck, and they wouldn't nudge no matter how much he tried. He stumbled backwards, turning to get out the freezing shower, screaming again as he was seized by the throat of an unseen hand. The grip was hard, and Peter flailed with his arms and gasped in need of air, losing the touch of the bathroom floor beneath his feet. The shock was even greater as he felt the body of a man in front of him, but he could not see it, and he screamed anew, gurgling and gasping as the unseen force pushed him backwards into the shower and holding him directly under the water. Peter was beyond with fear, and the water was numbing him, making it more difficult to fight, to move, freezing him. He kicked frantically, hitting a body he couldn't see, only touch and kick. It was as if it was made of iron, not responding at all to his powerful blows. His jawbones were getting sore from the crushing grip around his throat, and he shouted and screamed. Then he felt something soft and firm brush against his righ hand thigh, and he stopped moving as comprehension sat in, realizing what it was he was touching. It chilled Peter to his very bones, his anxiety reaching new heights as he understood what was about to happen next. He began to beg and object, cursing and flailing to get loose, but it did not matter. The arm, the very fingers he could feel around his throat but which he could not see, were like made of steel, and Peter was pushed against the wall with rough force, almost knocking the air out of his lungs. Things began to happen quickly, and before he could do anything, a clothed body had forced its way between his legs. Peter Drinkwater fought. Fought for his dear life, but was unable to stop the other unseen arm from grabbing Peter's left thigh and forcing it up for better access. Then, Peter felt the probing of the unseen erect cock, and he mobilized his entire strength, flexing every muscle in his body in order to break free and escape before it was too late. No, no no...!!! he wailed, screaming in pain as he was breached for the very first time. He sobbed out at the excruziating pain, his emotions thwarted by the unwillingness, the unwanted pain, the overall numbing fear it was in being raped. Peter sobbed again, his face a distorted mask of rage, fear and pain. He could do nothing but keep still, for the fingers digging into his thigh combined with the knife-sharp pain in his rectum and the blackening vision and the freezing water, was too much.
Peter gritted his teeth, and grabbed at whatever should have been infront of him, a face. His hands found it, and his fingers described to him as having two eyes, a nose and a mouth fuming with desire. A tongue found the tip of Peter's right index finger, and he immediately let go upon realizing the tongue had just licked his finger. He dug his fingers into the flesh of the cheekbones, and he got an immediate reaction as the unseen pulled away. Peter landed on the floor of the shower, gasping for air, breathing labored. His buttocks hurt badly, and he'd no sooner than caught his breath as he was grabbed by the hair and pulled outside and dragged to the bedroom. There he was thrown to the sparse bed like a rag doll, and he was immediately straddled by an unseen force with now wet clothes, and Peter's hands were yanked upwards and tied to the head of the bed by a curtain cord from the nearest window. He kicked his legs frantically, screaming for help, screaming at the top of his lungs. His legs were forced apart anew by strong hands, all though Peter writhed and wrung his body to elope whatever unseen spirit this was. His buttocks were elevated unto a lap, and he froze, hissing as pain once again shot through his nether regions. The unfamiliar and unwelcome sensation of having a large cock up his ass, made Peter stiffen, flexing his muscles in order to avoid it, to fight the penetration in every way. He watched in shock as someone unseen began to pump in and out of him, feeling the friction of the unlubed cock against his insides, massaging the opening. Slowly but surely, he began to succumb, finding that somewhere in all the pain, there was also an almost good feeling which sparked a tingle in his loins. There was also anger. For with the unwanted awakening of his lusts, of losing control over his own emotions and being used in such a manner, infuriated him beyond reason. This was what he'd been fighting ever since he was in his teens. Authority, along with everyone and everything that would control him and his actions. He tried to move, tried to avoid the cock inside his ass, and to his surprise and horror he discovered that the moving around only furthered the good feeling, prompting the unseen to pump harder, to reach deeper. And around them, darkness grew darker.
Peter thought he heard whispers, thought he saw shadows move, in the corner of his eye. Small, dreadful little creatures. The room had lost the remains of the daylight, and it was growing darker by the second. Unnaturally dark, until only the bed itself seemed alight. Peter was getting seriously scared, and tears streamed down his face as he was beginning to realize that he was in the hands of something quite beyond the world of the living.