Of men and other men

Randy. Right in front of me, the world watching his every move, though his attention is all mine. Unfortunately, as I have to say. My hands are handcuffed and I basically just hang from the ring post as Randy unleashes punishment on me. Kicking and punching me, instructing the ref time and time again to ask me, if I wanted to quit. My answer always the same "no".

The kendo stick descends on my ribs, taking my breath away and no I will not quit. This seems to go on forever. I have the faint feeling in the back of my head that I have been here before. The fans are all on their feet, roaring, screaming, some in silent shock and many simply urging me on to not quit.

Randy's meets me violently pounding away at me, abusing every inch of my exposed body. My vision flickers, and he throws cold water in my face. "Oh no, you will not pass out on me Cena!" he shouts, slapping my face. His eyes are so cold they burn right through me. I'm dizzy and dimly notice how he doesn't want the ref to ask me anymore.

I don't know how, but somehow I manage to get Randy off my back for long enough to get away from the ring post. I find myself in the middle of the ring again, Randy lying in wait only few feet away. His piercing gaze never leaves me. I feel hot and cold at the same time, and then, it feels as though something breaks, a crack in reality, tearing at me.

Randy moves over to me, looms over me dangerously. He kneels down on one knee, bends his back and brings his face close to mine, inspecting me curiously, mischievously. I am painfully aware of how fast paced my breathing is. He tilts his head, brings it to my ear, his lips almost touching it.

"Could it be that it's not so much that you don't want to say I quit," his voice is low and dangerous in my ear "but that you really don't want to quit?" He asks, his voice taking a turn in a direction that I really don't like.

He gets up again, towers over me, looks down on me with disgust. "You enjoy this." He states, it's not a question anymore.

He brings his boot down on my stomach, but instead of lifting it once again it remains there. Applying pressure as though he wanted to walk right through me. Then slowly his boot goes over my jeans, feeling my cock right through them. He slowly moves it over my crotch, painfully. Despite myself I feel myself getting hard.

Suddenly, the cell crashes down around the ring. I look around and find all those eyes in the audience staring at me in shock, some in disgust. Randy points at me and yells "look at him! Look closely!" all the while massaging me through my shorts.

He helps me up and throws me into the corner of the ring, following suit with a sharp knee to my back. It hurts and I cry out in pain. Now it's Randy's hand that grabs my cock roughly though my jeans. "You're such a disgusting piece of trash" he hisses at me, as he pulls at it violently.

With few swift and powerful tugs he tears my jeans and boxers off of me and slams me onto the mat. I lie there, exposed. I hear the screams from the audience. They are all looking at me and my obvious erection. From somewhere I hear Randy shout obscenities, making everyone pay attention to me and what is going on with me. I don't get it myself. It's hard to breathe and even harder to concentrate.

Wanting to hide my cock from all these people I turn onto my stomach. A sharp pain reminds me of my ribs and what Randy had done to them earlier. Involuntary I arch my back in pain.

Only when I feel Randy's boot on my bare ass I understand what it must've looked like. "So that's what you want, Cena?"

His boot pries my butt cheeks apart as I try to crawl away from him. Mercilessly, he starts to stomp all over me, turning me over again. It all comes full circle and we're back at him punishing me. Kicks, punches and slams, my body aches and yet, my cock is harder than it ever was. I lose track of where I am and what happens to me. The pain flows into the pleasure as Randy literally mobs the canvas with my body, my cock sliding across the mat.

I hear my own voice moaning out again and again louder and louder as Randy does everything in his power to destroy me. His eyes are full of lust, but as reflected by a visible lack of excitement in his pants, it's not sexual at all. It's pure blood lust, cold and condemning. He enjoys every moment of this, in the cruelest way possible.

My body is pooling around his feet, while now it's his turn to mock me. Shame and humiliation washes over me, penetrates me. Desperate I try to lift myself up. I hold onto Randy to push myself up just a little farther. Dumbfounded I end up facing the front of Randy's trunks. "You really need it that badly, Cena?! Huh?" he sneers at me in disgust, pushing my head away with his foot.

He lifts me up and sends me flying, head first into the cage wall. I hear him mutter "But you ain't gonna get it, I'm gonna give something you deserve" as he fades from my range of vision. Before me I see fans, shocked, terrified, disgusted. They stare at me and I moan out despite myself. Their gazes are like entirely unwelcome and yet strangely appreciated caresses over my body.

My hands hold on to the mash, my head pressed against it, and my cock stands out proud, ready to burst, when I feel Randy's warm hand on my ass.

"Look at your hero. He gets off on this, you know? Look at him, he loves this." Again I moan out loudly. His words, cruel as they are, fuel the fire that is burning me up, burning my mind away, leaving nothing but this shameful lust almost bursting between my legs. And they look. But not only at me, also at something behind my back, that I just can't see.

Sharp edges in a roundish shape push into my ass hard, cutting some of the sensitive skin there. A shrill cry escapes me, as Randy holds still, whatever it was he just penetrated me with. "Look, this is what he wanted all along. You useless piece of crap. Do you like this, yes? Hey I'm talking to you, do you like this?" I can't answer. It's hard to breathe but I never stop moaning.

Then he fucks me with that kendo stick. Hard and fast. It hurts, it hurts so badly and then suddenly he hits some spot within me, and cutting through the pain is mind-numbing pleasure. It all gets mixed up and I can't hear a thing anymore as I come violently.

Panting heavily I open my eyes.

Carefully I take in my surroundings.

Darkness, dim city light through the window.

Hotel room.

Painful pleasure boiling all over my body. Despite myself I reach for my cock. It's hard and sensitive to the touch. From the feel of it, I came at least another time while I was asleep. Something in the back of my head tells me that it's very wrong to jack off right now. I just can't bring myself to care. Hard I jerk at it, enclosing the head with my hand, pressing a little too hard. I want to come so badly.

My strokes are hard and rough but somehow it's not enough. Tears form on the edge of my eyes. I just want this to be over with, god dammit! I don't want to do this but I need to come now. My other hand touches my entrance, it's slick form the cum and I push in a finger. That does it. Finally, I find release.

It takes me a little while to really come to my senses. Embarrassed I quickly clean myself and the sheets.

This... it's not normal. This is not who I am an that is most definitely not what I want. The mere thought of it makes my cock stir again. I feel betrayed by my own body.

Cold shower, now. Determined I stomp into the bathroom.

I've had this kind of dream ever since Breaking Point. This dream of Randy torturing me, of him towering over me, me helpless and at his mercy. And mercy is not exactly his strong side. Every time I woke up with and aching cock. I don't get it.

And to think that after Hell In A Cell tonight the dream took this drastic turn. I just don't get it.

Shivering I stand underneath the stream of ice cold water, fighting the urge to get away from it. The distraction it provides is more than welcome.