Suddenly one night as you walk down a lonely street, the night turns into a whirlwind of red and blue lights. When you come across an inert body on the ground, bathed in a pool of blood. Before you could process what you were seeing, the police surround you, accusing you of a crime you did not commit.

They handcuff you and take you to the police station, where they lock you in a cold and gloomy cell. Your cellmate is an imposing behemoth of a man, a true giant among mortals. He stands around two meters tall, with shoulders so broad they seem capable of carrying the weight of the world. His body is covered in bulging and defined muscles with a torso and arms adorned with scars and tattoos that tell tales of a tough and uncompromising life. A coiled dragon extends from his shoulder to his forearm, its claws appearing to tear the skin, while on his chest, words in a gothic font declare "Born to Command."

His face is equally hard, with a square jaw and a thick, unkempt beard framing his thick lips. His eyes are a dark brown, almost black, and they shine with a mix of challenge and malice. There is no softness in his gaze, only the tough resolve of a man who has seen too much and has come out hardened on the other side.

The skin that covers his physique is dark and thick, adorned with scars and tattoos that tell stories of a harsh and unforgiving life. A coiled dragon extends from his shoulder to his forearm, its claws appearing to tear the skin, while on his chest, words in a gothic font declare "Born to Rule."

His voice, when he speaks, is deep and resonant, each word loaded with authority and power, making even his whispers feel like commands.

This man is not just your cellmate; he is a sexual predator, and you have entered his territory.

The atmosphere is dense and charged with palpable tension. His presence is intimidating, and the confined space makes each of his movements feel threatening.

"Come here, bitch," he growls with a voice that reverberates against the concrete walls. It is not a suggestion; it is an order. He pushes you against the cold, rough wall, his large, strong hands grabbing your arms, immobilizing you. You feel his hot breath on your neck as he whispers, "I've been without sex for a long time and you are a gift." He releases me for a moment to take off his shirt while saying "calm down boy, these things happen, you're going to be my toy tonight," you can feel the danger in his tone. His hand finds its way under your clothes, tearing them off with little ceremony. His touch is rough, exploring your body without permission, squeezing and slapping as if assessing his property.

Without warning, he abruptly turns you around, facing the wall. You feel his massive body pressing you against the cold concrete. His hand slides between your legs, rude and demanding. "Look how wet you are, slut. You like it, don't you?" he taunts, while spitting on his hand and plungi...