The Shame of What A Man Can Do

By Damion Mondays

Bradley knew of Serena in high school. By and large, they didn't run in the same crowds. Then, that thing happened on prom night, and he never saw her again, till buddy and business partner Jehtro mentioned she'd been in touch. Serena chose him to help her with a personal project because of prom night. And now, Bradley discovers the shame of a what a man can do.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Damion Mondays
• Release date: May 8, 2024
• ISBN: 9798224506781

Book preview

The title of this novella is taken directly from a line from the song Hold Her Down by Toad the Wet Sprocket. Funny story about that song: my girlfriend who would become my current spouse of twenty-five years hated that song because she didn’t really listen to the song, and thought it was celebrating sexual assault. And I understand where she’s coming from. Except for the line I’ve taken here, and a few other lines, it can come across as a celebration of the one of ugliest acts a man can do.

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The above said, please take this as your trigger notice. There are references to sexual assault. There are also references to self-harm, sex work, and the depiction of a sexual assault.

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About the Author

Damion lives his days in a daze, considering his future as an author and whether he enjoys writing what sells for him. He’s not judging, he’s just wondering if it’s for him. Don’t mind if he takes a short break from writing that stuff to train someone new to do it for him.

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More by Damion Mondays

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Standalones

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The Taking of Sassy Telluride and Her Riches

Sharona Sleeps During Sex: An Erotic Short

Hammering My Hotwife

Stranger Danger

Teaching Mrs. Quail’s Night School Class

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Series

Memories of a Cuckold Husband

My First Summer As a Cuckold Husband

A Cuckold Christmas

How My Wife Got Me a Raise

Stolen Manhood: A Robbery Gone Sexy

Party On! : How My Wife Shamed Me On My Birthday

That Last Time: How My Wife Humiliated Me One Final Time

Funeral Shenanigans

The Pregger and the Cuck: An Erotic Tale of Preggo Sex in 3 Parts

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I knew her in high school a little bit. Like, I knew her name. We occasionally crossed paths through mutual friends. Everybody knew her for her cleavage. She was short, which made her even more noticeable, because if she was wearing a v-neck, you saw that cleavage for days. And, of course, she was going out with one or another of the most popular dudes in school. Not my gang, but I knew them. Occasionally went to their parties. Dated a popular dude’s little sister senior year. Not my shiniest moment, but, this isn’t about me.

It’s about Serena Rae. She smiles and everybody knows all’s well, even if it doesn’t seem it. She cries, the shit hit the fan. Her smile, her banging body, and people who knew said she was smart, made her the odds-on favorite to be prom queen senior year. Me, there with my freshman consort, standing there, wishing I had a buzz on, watching as Serena’s name gets called and she doesn’t respond. Everyone starts wondering where she went. She was there, right?

Rumor mills abound with what happened to her that night, but nothing was ever substantiated. She never came back to school, not even for the graduation. She literally vanished. It was fucking weird.

The following year, I’m hanging around our dumb little town, driving forty-five minutes four days a week twice a day to the nearest community college. My buddy Jethro asks me if I know what happened to Serena Rae. I tell him no, take a hit off a bong. We continue to get high and film a little art project we had going on, namely, me and him documenting our dumbest days. Films of us getting high. Drinking. Me hitting on all the friends of my ex-girlfriend, him hitting on me and other guys when he knows they aren’t gay.

She got raped, man. Kinda outta the blue. It was like hours later that he said the words and I looked across the room, hazy from the smoke, or maybe it was just hazy because my eyes were fucked up.

Who?

Serene Rae, man.

When?

He looks at me like I’m an idiot, which is fair, but I don’t understand what he’s talking about. Or why. Fucking prom night, dumbass.

That’s fucked up. He nods and taps something on his phone, then tosses it across the room. I barely catch his phone. Look at what’s on the screen.

"That’s fucked up," he repeats my words, but not my tone.

I scroll up a little. Jesus. It’s a whisper, but he hears me. I stop watching it, toss his phone back to him. Why’d you show me that?

You straight guys are assholes. We laugh and I agree half-heartedly. Nah, it’s just, I heard from her a couple days ago. She follows our channel. Wondered about getting her own started.

Where’d you find it? I’m ashamed to admit that watching a dude non-consensually violate a chick doesn’t disgust me the way it should. He gives me that look, and I let it go. Grab my own phone, start searching for it in my incognito mode.

So, I told ‘er we could meet up this weekend. That cool?

I shrug, my mind on finding the video. Yeah. I have to work Saturday evening, but early Saturday should be fine.

You’re looking for it, aren’t you?

I shrug. He tosses me the phone again so I can see the URL and follow it on my phone.

We done for the day?

Yeah.

He crosses the room, puts his hand on the back of my head, leans down and kisses my forehead. I look up from my phone. What’s that for?

He give my face a little slap. You are such a piece of shit. I agree with a half-grin. I love you anyway, though.

Yeah, you, too. See you tomorrow. Jethro takes his phone back and heads out. I hear his pickup struggle to start, long enough I think I’ll have to go help with a jump or something, but after a few tries, the engine starts and he heads home. A place on the other side of the train tracks. Literally, there’s a railroad between our neighborhoods. But, the tracks don’t highlight any inequities or behave as some