Date: Thu, 9 Nov 2023 18:11:52 -0500
From: mr.evan.andrews@gmail.com
Subject: Green Arrow Gets Deathstroked chapter 2 -- celebrity

Green Arrow Gets Deathstroked
Chapter 2: Connor Hawke Surrenders
Evan Andrews 2023


This is a fan fiction.

The characters in this story are based on characters belonging to and
trademarked and copyrighted by DC Comics and/or its subsidiaries. I am not
related to the company and make no claim of ownership over the
characters. This story exists outside of any DC continuity I'm familiar
with.

This story should in no way be considered a true representation of the true
sexuality of any of the original characters.

The story depicts males in sexual situations with other males. If that
offends you, if you are underage, or if reading such is illegal where you
are please stop reading now. Thank you.

If you enjoy this story, or even if you hate it, please contribute to
keeping Nifty going at http://donate.nifty.org/donate.html


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When Ollie woke up, he found his handcuffs had been chained to straps that
circled his thighs and he was being held in a standing position by a thick
metal collar that was chained to the ceiling. His feet were spread by a bar
which was itself chained to a bolt sunk in the floor. Yeah, he wasn't going
anywhere anytime soon. At least the `blindfold' and ball gag had been
removed. Glancing around, Ollie found he was in the middle (perhaps) of a
large dark room. The only light, from an overhead spotlight, was trained on
him and him alone.

"Slade! Where am I?" Ollie demanded. "What are you doing?"

In a whisper, the archer ended, "You sick freak."

A deep chuckle sounded behind him, and Ollie twisted as much as he
could. He sensed rather than saw the menacing form of Slade Wilson,
Deathstroke the Terminator, emerge from the darkness. Stepping into Ollie's
line of sight, Slade stopped and let his captive dwell on what he
saw. Slade's muscles played beneath a dark grey bodysuit, but his
impressive sexual equipment drew all attention to the pouch of his orange
trunks. His iconic helmet he'd left in the shadows so his ruggedly handsome
face, with white hair, goatee, and menacing eyepatch, was there for all to
see.

"Sick freak? That's the Ollie I remember," the master assassin said as he
circled and stepped back behind the hero.

Slade pressed up against Ollie's backside and, reaching around, cupped the
bulge in Ollie's tights.

`Fuck,' Ollie thought, breathing heavily as Slade worked over his
inexplicably erect cock. `When did I get this hardon?'

Slade kept rubbing the tent in Ollie's dark green tights and licked his
ear.

"Mmm, yeah. Just like I remember. Triple threat. Big ego, big dick, big
trouble. What did we decide you hung? Nine inches?"

Ollie struggled against the assassin, but that only pressed his erection
into Slade roving hands.

"Slade," Ollie growled.

"That's right, hot stuff. Slade, your oldest (and most intimate) friend,
and I'm come to get a little payback for past wrongs," Slade said.

Slade's fingers traced the swollen head of Ollie's cock where it was
outlined by the thin fabric, and he whispered in Ollie's ear, "Glad to see
you're up for it, though that's probably due to a little drug I got from a
chemist friend."

Sliding around to plant a kiss on the irate Green Arrow's cheek, Slade
said, "Oh yeah, this is going to be fun—well, at least for me. For you,
the word `ordeal' might be more appropriate."

Stepping away from the archer, Slade produced a knife from somewhere.

`Of course he has a knife; he always has a knife,' Ollie thought. He had
stopped wondering a long time ago where Slade hid them all.

"So now what? You stab me like a pig and leave me to bleed out?" Ollie
demanded.

"You have such a low opinion of me," Slade sighed, "And of my
creativity. Well in a few hours, you'll have learned different."

Slade slid the knife against the bulge in Ollie's tights and sliced the
clingy fabric open down to below the archer's balls, allowing the Queen
family jewels to tumble out. Then the villain continued up the back,
exposing Ollie's ass-crack and tight butthole.

Slade ran the blunt edge of his knife up Ollie's shaft and tickled the
frenulum with the sharp tip.

`Things,' Ollie thought, holding still lest he get his blood-engorged
member accidentally cut, `Are going from bad to worse.'

Death was one thing, but castration was something else. Slade, of course,
had something even worse in mind.

"I wonder, Mister Archer Man, if you remember a night on a desert island a
few years ago. You, me, and a couple of hard cocks? I had you tied up then,
too, and I edged your hot young body, teased this same dick, for hours. I
toyed with you until you couldn't even scream any more, only sob and beg
for me to bring you off. Well, I've been practicing since then, and I've
perfected that not-so-gentle art which I now call `getting Deathstroked.'"

As he said this, Slade returned the knife to its sheath and took Ollie's 9
½ inches (Slade had remembered wrong) in hand, stroking the shaft slowly
as Ollie groaned.

Yeah, Ollie did remember that night, and to his embarrassment he still
indulged in intense jack-off sessions recalling Slade's wicked skill at
holding a man on edge of orgasm for hours on end.

"You, my lucky friend," Slade said as he twisted his hand around the shaft,
"Tonight you get to experience my new improved technique. Oh, and it'll be
worse. That drug currently coursing through your veins, the one I shot into
your butt in the Hummer, it's a drug from the same lab that invented our
friend, mirakuru. This one, though, haradonu, hits you hard in the
glands. Once you're on a haradonu trip your brain slips into believing that
having hot sex is the current priority for your body. And by hot sex I mean
hot man-sex."

"Wonderful," Ollie gasped, "So you drugged me, and now you're going to rape
me?"

"You're underestimating me again, Ollie," Slade said. "I have no plan to
rape you. I plan to torture you--physically, intellectually, and
emotionally. Haradonu, while it gets you primed, is only part of the
torture, the other part, well, perhaps you should see that for yourself."

A couple of Slade's henchmen rolled in two video screens and activated
them.

"Roy!" Ollie screamed as the lefthand screen blinked into life, showing his
redheaded sidekick strapped to an examination table. Then, a second later,
the archer cried again, "Connor!"

Ollie's flesh and blood son sat strapped into a heavy chair.

"Let's see," Slade said as he stepped up behind Ollie and began slowly
masturbating him. "Who shall we start with? Eenie meenie
miney... Connor. Grant, you may begin."

"Noooooooo!"

@@@@@

Connor Hawke had come to to find himself strapped into heavy chair. His
blindfold and gag were gone, (as they had been in Ollie's case), so clearly
someone wanted him to be able to see and to speak—or, as it turned out,
to scream.

He sat under the dark room's single spotlight, and though there was nobody
to be seen, the junior archer could sense that there were at least a couple
of men waiting in the dark.

Suddenly a speaker announced, "Grant, you may begin."

Connor looked around and saw Deathstroke's elder son stepping forward out
of the dark. Grant's unmasked face bore a more thuglike expression than
Slade did, but the smile was just as cruel. The young villain's muscular
body filled out a dark grey bodysuit—as Slade's did, but Grant's bulging
trunks were black instead of orange.

Grant pulled out knife (hidden knives seemed to run in the family) and
brandished it as he approached the immobilized young hero.

"Hi there, meat," Grant said. "We haven't met formally. I'm Grant Wilson,
Ravager, and I'll be your nightmare this evening."

As he said this he slid the flat of the blade across Connor's face.

"It's gonna be fun working over a pretty young thing like you."

Grant ran the knife-edge down Connor's hard body. When he reached the bulge
in Connor's tights, he ran the blade up and down Connor's 7 ½
inches. Connor started. When had he thrown wood? But that question didn't
seem to bother Grant. He seemed to have expected it. The junior assassin
made a cut in the fabric of Connor's tights and sliced through them right
at crotch level. Putting the knife away, he pulled out Connor's erection.

Grant circled the hero's dick around the base with his left hand while his
right began to tease the sensitive flesh.

"Ohhhhhhh!" Connor groaned as Grant ran a finger around the underside of
his corona.

The red archer wasn't the philanderer his father was, or the slut his
`brother' Roy was. True, he knew the pleasure that could be had from paying
with yourself, but he had resisted the indulgence (except in the more
extreme circumstances) for years. Now, it seemed this villain was planning
to make up for all that lost time.

[In another room, Slade whispered in Ollie's ear, "Is that ALL Connor's
packing in the dick department, Ollie? I expected more." The villain's
fingers inchwormed their way up his length. "Are you sure he's your son?"]

Grant worked Connor's shaft for nearly a half hour, but though every stroke
struck the young archer's pleasure center like a wrecking ball, he never
got any closer to cumming. (Not that Grant would have let him cum. No, the
junior assassin had had the rules of this evening's games explained to him
in lurid detail., and he understood that breaking the rules would rebound
on him catastrophically.)

Leaning close to Connor's face, Grant said, "I'm wondering. Did you ever
wonder how long someone could keep you hot and bothered like this? Minutes?
Hours?"

He ran a finger across the nerve bundle in Connor's frenulum, eliciting a
moan of desperation.

"Days?"

Grant made a cup of his hand and "juiced' Connor's plum, twisting left and
right as the boy struggled, keening, against his restraints.

"Well, the drug I gave you earlier will keep you in this state
indefinitely. (Especially if I keep giving you additional doses.)
But—isn't there always a but?—it won't let you cum. And I won't
either unless you make it worth my while."

["What does he mean?!" Ollie demanded. "Keep watching, boy," Slade said as
an errant finger teased Ollie's sphincter.]

"So, does my little hero want to cum?" Grant asked archly.

"Ohhhhh!" Connor groaned, "Yes! Please! I need to empty my balls! Please,
bring me off!"

"Well then, you can start earning it," Grant said. "Joey!"

[`Joey?' Ollie thought. `Slade's second son, the one that had joined up
with the Titans is named Joe...']

Connor turned his head and watched as a second light illuminated a
man-sized cage, The young blond man crouching inside was Slade's other son
(and Grant's brother), Joe, the Titan known as Jericho. The dreamboat
pushed the cage door open and crawled across the floor, dog-like, to kneel,
arms behind back and head bent down, at Grant's feet. Connor was
confused. Joey, Joe, was jaybird naked except for a collar around his
throat and a leather harness that rode across his chest just north of his
nipples.

"Fuck this hero's mouth, baby brother," Grant said, and Joe obediently rose
to his feet.

"No!" Connor cried. "Jericho! Not that!"

Much as Connor wanted to cum, there were things he wasn't prepared to
do. The archer clenched his jaws firmly shut, but Grant was having none of
that. As Joe pressed his 8 inches of fuck-meat against Connor's lips
(filling the hero's nose with the intoxicating scent of precum), Grant
found the right pressure points and forced the captive's jaws open.

"Take him!" Grant ordered, and Joe slid his dick into Connor's mouth.

Connor had only met Jericho a couple of times, but in no sense of the word
did he think of him as an intimate friend. Definitely not this intimate a
friend! But the man he'd met outside was nothing like the biddable fuck
slave that was currently pumping his piece in and out of the archer's oral
pussy

Connor considered biting Joe's dick, but found he just couldn't. Joe, as
Jerico, was a fellow hero in spite of what was currently happening. Oh, and
Grant continued to hold his fingers in place, preventing Connor from doing
any such thing. With biting off the table, Connor had no choice but to ride
with the oral violation. Gradually the young archer adjusted to the feel of
steel-hard cock in its sheathing of satiny flesh. The pliable flesh at the
back of his mouth became comfortable with being poked at, but it was the
taste of Joe's precum that sealed the deal. Something in Connor's brain
recognized the taste, and suddenly he couldn't get enough of it.

"Eeeeee ummmmmm!" Connor moaned pathetically around Joe's plunging shaft.

Grant felt the change in Connor's body and released the pressure
points. Freed, the drugged hero started sucking the enslaved blond's
shaft. As Connor started sucking in earnest, Grant took a dildo from off a
nearby table and stepped behind his brother. After greasing up the silicone
shaft, Grant introduced it to Joe's mudhole and began to fuck his pretty
brother hard and deep.

"Do it, Joey!" Grant ordered as he pounded Joe's guts. "Fill his mouth with
your cum!"

["No," Ollie whimpered, and Slade, the archer's shaft still in hand, smiled
back, "Of course."]

In short order, Joe stiffened, and his fuck-hose filled Connor's mouth. His
jerking body, let Grant know the job was done.

Leaving the dildo lodged in his brother's boy-cunt, Grant pulled the blond
sub out of Connor's cum-filled mouth, and forced the hero's jaws shut.

"Swallow it, bitch!" he ordered.

Massaging Connor's throat, Grant felt it when, a moment later, the young
hero submitted and swallowed Joe's sperm.

The blond slave's jizz was—well, it wasn't as revolting as Connor had
expected it would be. It tasted... good? No, it tasted better than anything
on earth, and at that moment, the young hero realized he not only wanted
more—he needed more.

"More cum!" Connor gasped, and Grant let the pathetic cum-slut archer lick
his brother's dick clean.

Grant glanced up at where he knew the hidden camera was and gave his father
a thumbs up. Then he looked down at Connor's face as he nursed on Joe's
deflating cock. Well, since the worm had turned, Grant supposed it was big
brother's turn. He took out his own dick and, pushing his brother away,
fearlessly stepped up, and presented his piece for service.

"Let's try that again, archer slut," Grant said.

Connor once more opened his mouth, voluntarily this time, and gratefully
received the junior villain's erection, waiting for the face-fucking to
begin.

"This time," Grant said, "Let's try it with you actually sucking my cock
instead of me doing all the work."

A miniscule part of Connor's brain objected, but a voting majority moved
him to seal his lips around Grant's dick and give it the old college
try. Of course, Connor had next to no experience in being blown and none at
all in giving a good blowjob—or a bad one. However, he thought back on
his minutes-ago lesson and tried doing what felt right. Soon, with a few
promptings from Grant, the innocent young hero was happily sucking cock
like he'd been born to the job.

At a sign from his brother, Joe fell to his knees between Connor's spread
legs. The blond fell to orally worshipping Connor's erect cock and
cum-filled balls, and as he did so the captive archer learned, in a fine
example of Pavlovian conditioning, to associated his own genital pleasure
with sucking another man's dick.

Connor was really getting into the whole scene when Grant suddenly grabbed
the hero's head and forced 8 ½ inches of dick deep into the blond's
throat. Surprised, Connor could only gag and flail while Grant's fuck-hose
shot pints of white joy down his throat and straight into his stomach.

Grant held his piece there for long enough to register his absolute victory
over this bitch's mouth and pulled out just before Connor could pass out
from lack of oxygen.

He held his cockhead at Connor's lips and said, "Lick me clean, boy. And
make sure you get it all."

Connor's tongue reached out and ran over the slowly deflating cock, licking
it clean of all its sex juices.

"Good job, boy," Grant said, stroking the archer's hair.

Joe left off sucking and rose to share a kiss with the captive hero, giving
him a good taste of his own precum (and steal a taste of his brother's
cum). Connor could only whimper as he licked Joey's mouth clean.

"Now," Grant said, "We're all going to play the `Edge Connor Hawke'
game..."

@@@@@@

"Fuck, no," sobbed Ollie. "You can't. He didn't."

"Oh, but he did," Slade assured him, "Twice, in case you weren't keeping
track. And I obviously can."

"Fiend!" Ollie whimpered.

The assassin kept stroking the hero's shaft, laughing as he made squelching
noises with the hero's copious precum.

"I'm glad you enjoyed that show, buddy, but you know, I bet you'll enjoy
the next one even more.

"Roy," Ollie whispered.

Slade smiled and said to the second screen, "You may begin on the other boy
now."