"Give me what I want...willingly...and I'll no longer be such a brute," I traced his cheekbone with my thumb as I spoke, slowly gliding over his milky white skin, down to his lush mouth. His full pink lips trembled beneath my touch. To show that I could indeed, be a bit more tender, I inclined my head towards his face, wishing to place a chaste kiss on that luscious mouth of his. Before I could make contact, the hard edge was back in his eyes. He scowled at me with renewed hatred and spat in my face, "fuck me, if that's your wish...go ahead, Sir. Do it and be done with it, but you won't find me willing. I'd rather die."

The snarl on the young boy's face amused me, yet instead of allowing myself a chortle, I closed my hand into tight fist and belted him across his slender face, "you've made a terrible mistake wee lad, I'd have gone far easier on you, if you had only agreed to play along," I sighed dramatically, "it matters not, I'll have my way with you in any event."

Still stunned from the blow, his breathing rapid, the lad spoke through clenched teeth, "then you had best make sure you kill me when you're through."

At those words, I laughed spiritedly, knowing full well that he was in dire fear of experiencing any pleasure I had to offer. Still grinning, I fell to my knees before him and with one swift movement, devoured his erect cock with my mouth. I held fast to his slender thighs as I sucked up and down on his length, lapping at his bulging veins with my tongue, feeling the thickness of his shaft expand even further in my mouth and I drew him deep into my throat. I could feel the lad's struggle as he grew increasingly disturbed by his own physical response to my ministrations. He swore beneath his breath as his pre-cum dribbled out over my tongue. His body tensing as he fought off the favorable sensations. When I finally drew back, his cock was red and glistening wet, "very impressive for one so petite." I muttered, giving the cushiony head one last lick around the rim and then dipping the tip of my tongue into his leaking slit, listening to the hushed tone of his whimpering.

Having waited long enough, I was ready to make him feel every inch of my rigid organ. I wrapped one arm around his sweaty, filth strew waist and kicked his legs further apart, grasping my cock at the very base, "You'll never erase this. Once I'm inside you...I'll always own a piece of you."

"Go to hell."

"I'll see you there, then, " I whispered against his ear and lunged my cock inside, spearing past his swollen pucker with one savage thrust. I licked at his neck, as his high pitched scream pierced the dank basement and my teeth sank into the flesh of his bony shoulder. I never paused to let his body adjust to my ample girth, but instead, began shoving inside him with fast, hard jabs. Even after having all my fingers up inside his arse, he remained somewhat constricted, tight enough to clench around my shaft deliciously.

True to his word, the boy was filled with protest. His cries came loud and long as I stabbed inside him with such strength, his body bucked forward in it's restraints. Aggravated by his incessant noise, I sought to silence him, grabbing his cock in one hand as I wrapped my other around his dainty neck. I continued ramming into his arse, while my fingers closed around his neck, cutting off his supply of oxygen. The boy tried unsuccessfully to gasp for air, until finally his head lolled backward onto my shoulder and his thick cock pulsed in my sweaty grasp, spurting ropes of hot cum out over my fingers and onto the floor.

I released the lad's neck, feeling his body grow limp just as my own organ exploded deep in his gut, filling his sweet young arse with my hot seed till it trickled down his battered thighs. The orgasm left me dizzy and weak in the knees, clinging to his frail body.

Once I'd gathered my wits about me again, I pressed my fingers against the lad's neck, checking for his pulse. He was well enough, he'd only passed out from lack of air. I was thankful of that. Death would have been too kind for my little assassin, I wanted him to live long and remember this hour for all the days of his life.

As I dressed myself, I watched the lad in his sleep-like state, naked and limp, dangling in his shackles like a rag doll. I didn't believe I'd ever seen a sight more satisfying, or more beautiful.

While he was still unconscious, I released him from confinement and allowed him to collapse in my arms with a muted groan, giving his face a few light slaps to bring him back around. When his dark lashes fluttered open, he was still in my embrace. The lad appeared dazed and a bit befuddled as he tried to focus his eyes. He blinked, the recognition of who I was and what had just transpired, sinking in. He twisted his body in an attempt to fee himself of me, and I did not make an attempt to hold on to him this time. Instead, I let him drop onto the cold hard ground. Watching him on his hands and knees below me, I could see the muscles of his bludgeoned back tense as his stomach heaved thick vomit onto the basement floor. Did I feel guilt? I did not. I watched him with mild fascination, but with a sense of detachment.

The lad's body quivered as he fought to stand upright, swiping at his foul mouth with the back of his hand, "I'm not afraid of dying."

"If I'd wanted to see you dead, lad - I'd have already done the job. But don't go thinking me the merciful sort, it's just that death would be too kind for the likes of you," I tossed his clothes at him, "now get dressed."

As he fumbled with his clothes, I glanced over his scant form, noticing the many bright pink welts covering his ivory skin. A few bled and stuck to the fabric of his shirt as soon as he slid it on. So bruised was his gaunt face, that even his own cringing caused him discomfort. He wobbled unsteadily as he tried to step back into his worn trousers, his legs streaked with tracks of dry blood and semen.

Impatient to be on my way, I leant him assistance with his pants, as he appeared far too weak and pained to manage the task of dressing by himself. When he was put together fairly decent, I escorted him up the staircase by his arm and dragged him toward the door. He shuffled along, each step slow and uncomfortable.

"Don't worry lad, the pain in your arse will go away in a mere day or so and the abrasions will fade," I snorted lightly, then leaned in closer, "worry more about the fact that you enjoyed it...much more than you'd ever like to admit...remember how you came for me like a proper little whore."

"Bastard," tears welled up in his spiteful eyes as he sobbed in tight voice, "you'll regret this day. I promise you that."

I laughed as I opened the front door and pushed him out into the dark street, finding him such an amusing, ignorant child.

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Epilogue:

I had returned to Ireland for the funeral of a favored relative after residing in America for a stretch of ten years. Although the occasion for my return was supposed to be one of great sorrow and mourning, I found myself unable to be filled with melancholia. The day had been bright and warm, despite the bleakness of the burial. Spring was in the air, and my heart felt light.

It had been so long time since my eyes last beheld Cork, the place in which I was born and raised, that I found myself overwhelmed with nostalgia. Instead of returning directly to my brother's home after the ceremony, as I'd originally intended, I found myself walking idly down familiar streets, reminicing about childhood adventures, revisiting favorite haunts, until the sky turned into a dusky blanket above me and the air grew chill.

I was contemplating whether or not to start back to my brother's, lost so deeply in my thoughts and memories that I failed to notice the lanky figure approaching me. Even when my eyes first fell upon him, there was no immediate spark of recognition. He appeared merely another young man, bustling down the walkway. A strikingly handsome gent with a lean build and long windblown hair framing his angular face, his dark wispy bangs falling into his eyes, his lips full and pouting....

And that's when I knew it was him. After all this time, here he was, fulfilling the prophecy we wrote together, long ago. By the time I recognized him, it was too late. His lithe body was already pressed against my chest, the sharp metal of his knife burying it's way up under my ribs. He stared me dead in the eye and twisted the blade, his features never registering even the slightest flicker of emotion. I gasped, holding his steel-blue eyes with my own, clutching his skinny shoulders to steady myself. He withdrew the knife then plunged into my abdomen, this time forcing it upward, as if to rip me open and gut me like a fish. I could feel the hot, sticky blood gushing from my fatal wounds and knew very well that I was approaching my own demise. Yet, I looked into this young man's hardened face, so sullen and full of hatred....and I grinned, pressing my mouth against his full cushiony lips, just as I had wanted to all those years ago. He didn't flinch at my the gentle touch, but continue to glare at me with the cruelest blue eyes I'd ever seen, still working the steel blade that pierced me. I groaned faintly, a creeping numbness overtaking my body, pleased that his passionate hate had festered within him for so long, "ahh...lover...you haven't forgotten..."

My little assassin had grown up, and after all these years, he had remembered me. In the end, nothing else mattered...I had what I wanted most.