In this collection of hard-edged, sensual short stories, men speak little—but their bodies say everything. Pleasure Victim explores desire where it lives: in glances held too long, in quiet tension, in rough hands brushing past boundaries. These are real men: virile, unpolished, sometimes dangerous—never sentimental. Their hunger is physical, their contact raw, their pleasure a kind of conquest.
The title story, Pleasure Victim, unfolds in a cramped shared apartment, where Giovanni has spent weeks watching his rugged southern roommate move through their space unaware. But tonight, Davide returns from a party a little drunk, a little loose, and wearing nothing but a robe. What happens next isn’t about love—it’s about the unbearable weight of unsatisfied lust and the moment it finally tips.
Davide sprawled across the bed, limbs open, robe undone, hair damp from the shower. Giovanni paused—watching, breathing. Then, moving silently, he tied him down: one rope, then another, wrists, ankles. When the last knot was tight, he stood back and admired the body he had memorized in silence, now stretched and waiting. His hands found warm skin, damp hair, tight muscle. Davide stirred, half-awake, half-aware. “What the hell…?” he muttered, pulling at the ropes. Giovanni leaned in close and whispered:
“Relax. You're mine tonight.”
In Pleasure Victim, desire is not asked for—it’s taken.
And some men only learn what they want when they can no longer move.
