Once Beautiful

Ryan Kuhn, now being a beautiful child of ten wandered the halls of his father, Corvair Anderson’s, massive estate. His long ebon hair was tied into a ponytail with a band of gold and crimson cloth in an oriental pattern matching his robe of similar design and material. He wore it well even if the red did look strangely with his dual colored eyes, one pale blue and one reddish-brown. His porcelain pale skin shone in the moonlight breaking through the tall windows of the forlorn hallway off sides of the house. Ryan had never disobeyed his father before, but he was curious and decided as doting and kind as his father seemed, he would never become cross and harm him, so Ryan was about to disobey the aging constable and enter his bedroom.

Ryan’s pale elegant hand reached for the crystal doorknob so slowly it was almost dreamlike. He slowly turned the knob and pressed ever so gently on the door, pushing it open, staring in wonder around the room, eyes wide in confusion. He wondered why on earth the room was as odd as it was. There was a mirror over the bed and across from it, infact there were mirrors reflecting every angle of the bed. Like an entranced youth of Greek Mythology, Ryan slowly walked into the room, reaching out and touching the elegant mahogany chest of drawers, carved with ornate, almost real-looking pictures of things Ryan had only heard of in dirty conversations between his father and the other Constables when they drank together. Women and men who looked like they were half goat, men and boys, men and women, men and little girls. He cringed a little and looked away. There was a cozy fire going in the corner fireplace. Over the fireplace was a portrait of Constable Anderson with a hand on Ryan’s shoulder, it was done about five years ago and in the portrait, the artist had captured every little detail, Ryan’s missing tooth he’d lost that week, Officer Anderson’s eyes with the wrinkles and bags under them. The likeness was eerie and made Ryan shudder a little.

“Ryan! What did I tell you about entering my private chambers!?” A stern voice barked from the shadows near the book case. The voice belonged to Ryan’s father and it made him jump almost a foot in the air out of terror. “Ryan…I have always been good to you, I have never punished you, but now you have disobeyed my express wishes….” He growled, moving closer to Ryan and backing him into a corner. “Now I will deal with you the way I dealt with your mother when she angered me…”


Ryan whimpered, shrinking back into the blood red walled corner, eyes darting around the room. All at once what had seemed like an ordinary, if a bit odd room became nightmarish as Anderson grabbed Ryan by the shoulders and forced him over to the bed. As Ryan was pushed down, he looked around, the bed was a featherbed with silken wine colored sheets and pillows surrounded by mirrors and framed in hand carved mahogany. Anderson smirked as he reached under the bed, pulling up leather straps attached to it and as he did he began to strap Ryan down onto the bed. The leather straps were tight and bit into Ryan’s pale wrists and ankles reddening them. “Please stop, father! I beg you!” Ryan pleaded and begged his father, but Anderson would have none of it and continued, peeling off the robe and pulling down the soft red silk pants Ryan wore.

Ryan was trembling in terror as this happened. “Please no…Please god no…..” He sniffled. “Father….Why are you doing this…Don’t you love me?” He sobbed as the constable began to remove his own neatly creased black uniform pants and undergarments. He then moved to straddle Ryan’s slender trembling form.

“I do love you or else I wouldn’t punish you, you wouldn’t want to grow up a spoiled little brat would you? No, of course not. Then remember, you’re a bad child and you deserve this. So shut your little mouth unless I tell you to open it and do as you’re told from now on, boy.” Anderson sneered, slapping Ryan across the face.

“Y….Yes, father…I promise I will!” Ryan sobbed, terrified, it was the first time he’d ever been punished but he never knew that this was punishment, had he known he never would have entered this room today, he would have tried his very best to stave off his curiosity. All these thoughts rushed through his head as his legs were lifted into the air and his hips were shoved forward by a mighty thrust as his tight little opening was suddenly invaded by something long, hard and thick. Tears ran down his face as he lay there sobbing softly as he was raped. Of course, he didn’t know what was really happening. As far as he knew he was a bad child and deserved what was happening. This was his punishment for disobeying his father and he would just have to accept it.

Corvair slapped Ryan across the face and pulled out of him and undid the straps, turning him onto his stomach and lifting the boy’s hips up, thrusting back in.

“Bite the pillow, you little brat, bite it nice and hard so you don’t make any noise and get daddy in trouble now!” He smirked, gripping Ryan’s hips as he rocked his pelvis back and forth, his massive erection forcing itself into the tiny tight opening again and again. Tears poured down Ryan’s face as he looked at the mirror in front of him, his teeth biting through the fabric of the pillow now as he gagged on the awkward taste and texture of feathers and linen. He could feel the bile rising in his through and sloshing around his mouth, probably staining the pillow as he was violated again and again. He saw his own terrified face staring back at him in the mirror as he lay there, panting and gasping into the pillow in pain and he heard similar noises of exertion from his “father” as he plowed in and out of the tiny puckered opening.

After several grueling minutes of pain, Ryan felt Corvair’s swollen manhood twitch within him and the unfamiliar feeling of something wet and warm and gooey filling the tight anal passage. After the feeling had somewhat subsided, Ryan felt Corvair remove his cock from him. A soft sob of humiliation and relief issued from Ryan’s mouth as he released his mouth’s grip on the pillow.

“Now be good and don’t do it again.” Anderson sneered, beginning to get dressed and undoing the straps. He waited for Ryan to dress and then threw him into the hallway, slamming the door and locking it. Poor Ryan could hardly walk as he tried to get back to his own bedroom on the other side of the house. The windows seemed to leer at him like judging eyes telling him “You’re a bad boy, little Ryan, and you deserved that. You’re lucky to be alive after disobeying your father.”
Finally, he arrived at his room, turning the crystalline doorknob and pushing open the white wooden door. His room was a lovely room with a hardwood floor and white walls, his bed was a white daybed with a soft feathered mattress and white silk sheets. A mahogany wardrobe stood in the corner and four similarly made oaken bookshelves lined his walls filled with books and drawing pads and journals. He staggered over to his bed and flopped down sobbing softly until he eventually cried himself to sleep.