Chapter 6: The Family Dinner
The air in the dining room was thick with the smell of pot roast and wax polish, a cloying normalcy that made Hugo’s skin crawl. He sat across from Karim, his hands sweating under the heavy oak table. Karim was a storm cloud in a black shirt, the fabric pulled taut across his chest, the sleeves straining around his biceps. He was laughing at something Hugo’s father said, a deep, rumbling sound that vibrated in the hollow of Hugo’s chest.
Chloe was radiant, her hand on Karim’s forearm, chatting about floral arrangements and seating charts. “I think the ivory linens, not the pure white. It’s softer,” she said, her voice a bright melody against the low growl of Karim’s periodic grunts of agreement.
Hugo tried to focus on his plate.The greyish meat, the overcooked carrots. He brought a forkful to his mouth, chewing without tasting.Then he felt it.A heavy pressure on the instep of his shoe. He froze.He didn’t need to look. He knew the weight, the shape of that foot. Karim’s leg was stretched out under the table, his big boot settling deliberately on top of Hugo’s foot.It was an innocent touch, could be an accident. But then it shifted, the pressure intensifying, a slow, deliberate grind.Hugo’s breath hitched. He glanced up. Karim was listening to Chloe, nodding thoughtfully, a forkful of meat hovering near his bearded lips.His eyes, however, were locked on Hugo. A faint, cruel smile played beneath the trimmed mustache.The pressure moved. Karim’s foot slid off Hugo’s and then, with shocking directness, nudged between his knees, pushing his legs apart under the table.Hugo couldn’t suppress a tiny gasp. He squeezed his thighs together, trapping Karim’s foot in a feeble act of resistance.Karim’s smile widened imperceptibly. He applied more force, easily winning, forcing Hugo’s legs to stay open. Then, with a slow, dragging motion, he lifted his foot and planted it squarely in Hugo’s crotch.Hugo jolted, his fork clattering softly against his plate.His parents glanced over. “Ça va, Hugo?” his mother asked.
“Oui,” he whispered, his voice strangled.“Juste… un muscle. Rien.”
He could feel the hard ridge of the boot’s toe through his trousers, a blunt, unmistakable pressure right against his soft cock.He was horrified to feel it begin to swell. Karim maintained the pressure, not moving, just a steady, claiming presence.A secret fist holding him captive.
Chloe prattled on, oblivious. “…and for the honeymoon, I was thinking maybe the Maldives, but Karim says it’s too cliché. He wants something more… adventurous.”
“Le confort, c’est pour les faibles,” Karim said, his voice a lazy rumble. His eyes never left Hugo’s flushed face. Under the table, he began to move his foot in a small, circular motion, a slow grind against Hugo’s now fully erect cock. The rough texture of the boot leather was agonizing, delicious friction.Hugo’s knuckles were white around his fork. Pre-cum soaked his briefs, a warm, shameful bloom.
“You’re quiet tonight, Hugo,” his father remarked, sipping his wine.
“Révisions,” Hugo managed to croak out, the lie tasting like ash. “Exams.”
Karim chose that moment to lean forward, reaching for the salt. As he did, his torso brushed the edge of the table, and he let his free hand drop below the tablecloth for just a second. He didn’t touch Hugo, but the intention was clear. A flash of his powerful forearm, a reminder of what those hands could do.
When he settled back, he kept his foot perfectly still, a steadfast, humping weight.Hugo was panting lightly, struggling to draw a full breath. The conversation swirled around him, a distant buzz. All he could feel was the heat blossoming from his groin, the tightness of his trousers, the possessive weight anchoring him to his shame.
Finally, Chloe stood up, gathering plates. “Maman, viens m’aider avec le dessert?” she chirped.The two women disappeared into the kitchen, the swing door flapping behind them.
The moment the door shut, Karim’s expression shifted. The false interest evaporated, replaced by pure, predatory focus.He leaned across the table, his massive shoulders blocking out the light. The scent of his cologne, something dark and spicy, mixed with the musk of his skin, enveloped Hugo.
“Je le sens,” Karim whispered, his voice so low Hugo’s father, engrossed in his phone, didn’t hear. “Je sens l’odeur de ta queue à travers la table. Tu dégoulines comme une petite salope en chaleur.”
Hugo couldn’t speak.He could only stare, hypnotized.
“Après le café,” Karim continued, the words a hot, private promise.“Tu vas aux toilettes. Tu m’attends.Je vais te démonter la gorge. Je vais te baiser la bouche jusqu’à ce que tu pleures.”
He pulled back just as Chloe re-entered, a tart in her hands.Hugo sat through dessert in a daze. The sweetness of the fruit was cloying, unbearable. He could feel the ghost of Karim’s boot on his cock, the echo of his words in his ears.Coffee was served in the living room. Hugo’s legs felt like water. He stood up, mumbling something about the bathroom, and didn’t wait for a response.He fled down the hall, his heart hammering against his ribs. He locked himself in the small, pristine downstairs toilet, leaning against the cool porcelain of the sink, trying to calm his racing pulse.He didn’t have to wait long.
The door handle rattled, then turned with decisive force.The lock, a flimsy thing, snapped with a sharp crack. The door swung inward, and Karim filled the frame, his bulk making the room seem dollhouse-small.He stepped inside, kicked the door shut with his heel.The broken lock hung uselessly.
“Fait de la place,” he grunted, his voice filling the tiled space.
He didn’t wait for Hugo to move. He grabbed him by the shoulders, spun him around, and pushed him back against the sink.The edge dug into Hugo’s spine. Karim’s hands went to his belt, his fly.The zipper sounded obscenely loud. He freed his cock, already thick and heavy, the dark, veined shaft springing out against Hugo’s trembling stomach.“À genoux. Maintenant.”
Hugo slid down the cabinet, his knees hitting the cold tile. He looked up, the ceiling light haloing Karim’s menacing form. Karim fisted his cock, gave it a few rough tugs, the head already glistening. The musky, intimate smell of him, amplified in the small room, flooded Hugo’s senses.“Ouvre,” Karim commanded.Hugo parted his lips. Karim didn’t guide himself in gently. He shoved the broad, spongy head past Hugo’s teeth, hitting the back of his throat in one brutal stroke. Hugo gagged violently, tears springing to his eyes instantly. He clutched at Karim’s powerful thighs, the rough denim scraping his fingers.“C’est ça,” Karim groaned, his head tilting back. “Prends-la toute.”
He began to fuck Hugo’s face in earnest, holding his head steady by a fistful of blond hair. There was no rhythm, just a driving, piston-like motion. Each thrust buried his cock deeper, the thick shaft stretching Hugo’s jaws, the head battering his soft palate. Hugo choked and sputtered, drool and precum slicking his chin. His nose was buried in the coarse, sweaty hair of Karim’s pubic mound, the scent pungent and overwhelming.
“Tu vois?” Karim panted, his hips snapping forward. “Ta soeur, elle parle de robes et de fleurs… et toi, tu suces la bite de son mec.Tu l’avales. C’est toi ma vraie femme. Ma pute à sperme.”
The words, layered over the brutal physical violation, shattered Hugo even as they aroused him further. He was nothing but a hole, a warm, wet receptacle for Karim’s frustration, his endless need. The sounds were filthy: the wet slap of Karim’s balls against Hugo’s chin, the choked gurgles from Hugo’s throat, Karim’s low, satisfied grunts.
Karim’s pace increased, becoming frantic.His thighs tensed.“Je vais venir.Tu vas tout prendre. Tu vas l’avaler, ma salope.”
He buried himself to the root, his pubic bone crushing Hugo’s nose. Hugo felt the thick pulse at the base of the cock in his throat, then the hot, salty jets flooding his esophagus. He swallowed reflexively, again and again, the bitter taste of Karim’s release coating his tongue, dripping down his tortured throat.
With a final, shuddering sigh, Karim pulled out. His cock, slick and spent, slapped against Hugo’s cheek. Hugo knelt there, gasping for air, strings of saliva and cum connecting his lips to Karim’s softening shaft.
Karim looked down at him, a king surveying conquered territory. He took his cock in his hand, wiped the last drops messily across Hugo’s flushed cheekbone. “Nettoie-toi,” he said, his breathing already steadying. “Et répare cette putain de serrure avant que quelqu’un remarque.”
He tucked himself away, zipped up, and without another glance, opened the door and stepped back into the murmur of the family gathering.
Hugo stayed on his knees for a long minute, the cold tile seeping into his bones.He could hear his sister’s laughter from the other room. Slowly, he pushed himself up, catching his wrecked reflection in the mirror. His eyes were bloodshot, his face was streaked with filth. He ran the tap, splashed water on his face, wiped his cheek with a trembling hand. The taste of Karim was deep inside him, a permanent stain. He looked at the broken lock, a tangible symbol of the violence done to his old life. He was still trying to formulate a lie, a way to explain it, when he heard his mother call his name, her voice sweet and unknowing, asking if he wanted more coffee.