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New Subordinates (Reincarnated as a Dragon Sovereign #3)

Posted on February 21, 2025 by indieerotica

The world of Caelas Online is a full-immersion Virtual Reality Massively Multiplayer Online Role Playing Game—the most realistic the world has ever seen, and there’s a reason for that. Unbeknownst to the players, Caelas is reality, and their modern world with all its worries and strife, is nothing but a simulation.

Miller has escaped the matrix, and all because he prioritized fucking an NPC over sheltering from a massive thunderstorm. Fried to a crisp by a bolt of lightning, he came face to face with Zyren, god of Caelas, who offered him power in exchange for entertainment.

With a hot god looking for good porn watching over his shoulder, Miller has assumed the mantle of Dragon Sovereign. His first order of business? Getting to know his people, all of whom seem eager to please him in any way he desires.

New Subordinates is a 5,000-word short story and part three in a four-part series.

As a final touch, Miller gave the armor pieces gold accents, especially on the sharper parts like the edges of the scales on his crown and waistband. He liked the look. It was understated but elegant.

“You see?” said Miller with a smirk, turning in place to show off the outfit he’d contrived. If he was being honest, he wasn’t even sure how he’d known how to do it, but he wasn’t about to complain. “You need not hide the important parts to project dignity and power,” he added with a little smirk.

Void nodded, his eyes gleaming. “I see that, Master. I am grateful for the enlightenment,” he said.

Miller saw the flow of mana over Void’s body as the Dragon King mimicked what he’d done. The outfit Void conjured was decidedly slutty, just as Miller had hoped.

A single metal pauldron was held against Void’s shoulder by a leather harness that went across his chest. For his bottoms, he elected for something like Miller’s, but he didn’t give himself a metal waistband. He just gave himself a leather jockstrap with a cock ring instead of a pouch in front.

The sheer loincloths that Miller created were instead draped over the sides of Void’s thighs, leaving nothing to the imagination. The final piece was a chastity cage made to resemble the ribs of a dragon. It ended in a sculpted dragon head with a gaping maw that framed Void’s glans.

Miller hadn’t expected the cage, but he wasn’t objecting either. It was a surprise that a cock as big as Void’s could be crammed in such a small thing, but he was quite looking forward to just how horny and desperate it was going to make Void.

“Does this please you, My Lord?” asked Void with a little smirk. He’d opted against gloves and boots, leaving his scaled and clawed hands and feet to remain in their natural state. It was a good choice.

Miller nodded. “Indeed it does,” he said, “well done.”

Rebirth (Reincarnated aș a Dragon Sovereign #2)

Posted on February 14, 2025 by indieerotica

The world of Caelas Online is a full-immersion Virtual Reality Massively Multiplayer Online Role Playing Game—the most realistic the world has ever seen. Those seeking an escape from the drudgery of everyday life, or simply a brand new adventure in a realm of nigh-endless possibilities, flock to the virtual landscapes of Caelas where they can be anything they want to be.

Miller is a gamer through and through, and one of the handful of pioneers who have made a career for themselves playing Caelas. He is an achievement hunter of a particular persuasion, one that he has successfully monetized. His goal? To bed all the hottest men the game has to offer.

After bedding the Dragon Prince of the Kingdom of Legacy, Miller finds himself trapped in a liminal space. There, he encounters Zyren, self-proclaimed god and administrator of Caelas, learns the truth of his circumstances, and strikes up a deal with Zyren.

Rebirth is a 5,800-word short story and part two in a four-part series.

“Trust me, bro,” said Z. “Why do you think there’s no magic in your world?”

“Because magic isn’t real.” The moment Miller said it, he couldn’t help but wonder why he was even arguing about this with a godlike being in a supposed afterlife. In fact, he still couldn’t quite understand why he wasn’t more broken up about the fact that he was dead.

“Nah, man,” said Z as he flipped the channel back to the porn. “Magic’s the most natural thing in the cosmos. It’s in everything we do, everything we breathe!”

Z shrugged. “The creator gods were just wondering what kind of twisted shit would come out of a world without magic. Then, the gods of magic told them it was impossible to do in a cosmos full of magic.”

Miller had so many questions.

“Anyway, at this point the gods of engineering heard about the hullaballoo and it all went to hell in a handbasket from there. The three groups put their heads together and pulled out this extremely shitty, fucked-up simulator that would show all of us what would happen in a world without magic.”

Z cracked a grin. “Boy were they ever surprised to see some of the depraved shit you guys get up to on a regular basis.”

Miller shook his head. It would take a lifetime to digest the implications of what he’d just heard, and since he was, allegedly, now dead, he decided he wouldn’t even think about it. “Okay. What’s in it for me? If I become your entertainment?”

Z quirked an eyebrow. “Power,” he said, curling a bicep while he stroked his cock. “More than you can imagine.”

“Well… I have to admit… I like the sound of that,” said Miller. “But what’s the catch?” It never hurt to be prudent.

“Nothing, man,” said Z. “You’ll just have to go and fulfill all your fantasies.”

Miller quirked an eyebrow.

“Okay. Fine. The catch is, that you’ll have to live your life down there with the knowledge that there’s a very hot, very hung god watching you from ‘heaven’ at pretty much all times of the day,” said Z.

Miller chuckled. As far as drawbacks to deals for unimaginable power with unfathomably powerful beings went, having an eye in the sky spying on his every sexual encounter wasn’t all that bad. “Well, I’m not going to complain about that.”

Z grinned. He stood from the couch and shrank down to a more manageable size. Even so, he stood head and shoulders taller than Miller’s 5’10”.

“If you’re really down to be my worldly entertainment, then why don’t you come over here and give Daddy Z a kiss?” Z flashed a toothy grin at Miller and spread his arms wide.

Miller was more surprised to see Z let go of his cock than anything else. “Just a kiss?” he said a bit cheekily as he crossed the distance between him and Z.

Z pulled Miller in, wrapping his arms around the smaller man’s waist. “And maybe a little sword-fighting,” he said as he grabbed Miller’s ass and pulled their bodies together, their cocks grinding one against the other in the space between them.

Thunderstruck (Reincarnated aș a Dragon Sovereign #1)

Posted on February 7, 2025February 7, 2025 by indieerotica

The world of Caelas Online is a full-immersion Virtual Reality Massively Multiplayer Online Role Playing Game—the most realistic the world has ever seen. Those seeking an escape from the drudgery of everyday life, or simply a brand new adventure in a realm of nigh-endless possibilities, flock to the virtual landscapes of Caelas where they can be anything they want to be.

Miller is a gamer through and through, and one of the handful of pioneers who have made a career for themselves playing Caelas. He is an achievement hunter of a particular persuasion, one that he has successfully monetized. His goal? To bed all the hottest men the game has to offer.

His dedication has brought him to the precipice of the most prized conquest in all the land: the Dragon Prince of the Kingdom of Legacy. His single-minded dedication to his goal has a price, however, and he might not have as much time to celebrate his achievement as he imagined.

Thunderstruck is a 5,400-word short story and the first in a four-part series.

“I have seen you fight, Adventurer,” said Cel. A wry smile danced on his lips. His voice all but dripped with desire. “I doubt I’d much find the opportunity to make use of your name tonight.”

The comment took Miller for a bit of a loop. He wasn’t sure how to take it. Did Cel not think he was good enough to make him scream? Come to think of it, Cel hadn’t used his name yet. Was it perhaps because his name wasn’t worthy of gracing Cel’s lips?

Miller’s distress must have shown on his face because Cel quietly laughed and cupped his cheek. “Oh, my noble, valiant adventurer, raise your gaze. How easily you doubt yourself.”

Cel hooked his index finger under Miller’s chin and tipped it up to look him in the eye. “Humility befits the humble, Miller, and despite what your name might suggest, you are anything but.”

There was a glint of something dangerous and inscrutable in Cel’s eye. Miller couldn’t place it. “You are a man of reputation, and ere long the bards will be telling of your accolades and spreading word of your triumphs throughout the land. You have earned a measure of self-assuredness, if nothing else. You ought use it.”

Miller was taken by surprise as Cel’s lips pressed up against his. When the initial shock passed, he kissed back as good as he got. He slid his tongue into Cel’s mouth, moaning into the kiss at the taste of the Dragon Prince dancing on his tongue.

A single strand of glistening spit connected their lips when they pulled apart. It broke when Cel then looked deeply into Miller’s eyes and said, “All that I meant by it was that a man of your skill… I expect you’ll have no difficulty stealing the very breath from my lungs.”

Cel chuckled. “And how am I meant to speak your name, much less scream it without breath?”

Miller groaned, his cock throbbing between his legs. He hadn’t expected how intoxicating Cel’s mere presence and personality could be. The only thing he’d come here for was to chase an achievement and get his rocks off. He never imagined he’d leave with a crush.

“You’re making it difficult to hold back,” Miller all but growled under his breath. He slid his hands down from Cel’s hips. He palmed the Prince’s ass, fingers digging into the meat of those muscular globes.

Cel’s eyes glinted with hunger. “And did I ever say that I wanted you to?” He leaned forward, the curtain of his hair brushing against Miller’s cheek. “Let us dispense with the pretense of titles and status, shall we, Miller? The bedchamber is hardly the place.”

A quiet moan spilled from Miller’s lips as Cel reached between their legs and wrapped his fingers around their touching cocks. He bucked his hips as Cel’s cock ground against his, their pre-cum slicking the tunnel formed by Cel’s fingers.

A Hero Ensnared: The Complete Series

Posted on December 14, 2023 by indieerotica

Castor, a semi-retired superhero with shapeshifting abilities who goes by the name of Phantom, is called back to duty.

A younger super-colleague of his, Corey, A.K.A. Tempest, has been rescued from a month-long imprisonment. While Corey swears he's fine and he's ready to go back to his job of protecting Selene City from the ever-present threat of supervillains, the ruling council isn't sure if they can take Corey at his word. Thus, they send Castor after him, to tail him, to watch him, and to ensure the younger superhero is safe.

But it seems Corey was never the one at risk...it's Castor. He's seductively drawn deep into submission, to ignore his charge and duty, to give everything he is...to Marcus, A.K.A. the archvillain Imperious. The final side of himself that he has to give up? His sexual freedom.

Tempest, once one of the leading superheroes in Selene City, is about to become a sexual servant to the biggest threat to Selene City.

A Hero Ensnared: The Complete Series is a 28,000-word collection of all four stories in the A Hero Ensnared series.

Castor flashed the broadest grin he could at Corey. “Now, now, Corey. Let’s not pretend you’re all pure and innocent either. You probably have some sort of fantasy about fucking yourself,” he said.

Corey leaned up, propping his torso up with his elbows against the mattress. “What if I did?” he said, voice dropping to a lower, huskier register. “You going to do anything about it? I bet you love to transform into me and jerk off in front of a mirror so you can watch me beating my meat.”

“Oh yeah. I love to edge your big cock while standing in front of the bathroom mirror. Did you know that you blush from your neck when you get turned on?” Castor purred.

Castor leaned forward, looking up to meet Corey’s gaze. He licked his lips. With a small grin tugging at the corner of his lips, he cast his gaze down.

Corey’s eyes followed Castor’s.

Hook, line, and sinker, Castor thought to himself and chuckled. Now that he had Corey’s attention where he wanted it, he rubbed the erection growing between his own legs.

“Gods,” Corey groaned. “I’m so fucking pent up.”

It was a little bit filthy, and maybe a lot crazy, but Castor had been banking on it. “Then maybe you could use a hand?” he said, feigning innocence. “Or a mouth?”

Corey sucked in a breath. He flicked his gaze out past Castor’s shoulder, at the door. “I shouldn’t—” Corey said, glancing back down between Castor’s legs. “I can’t possibly ask—”

Castor smiled. He grabbed Corey’s hand and raised it to his lips. He caught a finger in his lips and popped it in, swirling his tongue once around the tip. “You’re not asking,” he murmured, in a low and husky voice. “I’m offering.”

A bright pink flush bloomed on Corey’s cheeks. It was adorable, really. It was easy to forget that Corey was a little bit on the meeker side when his heroic alter ego, Tempest, was such a fucking badass. It was really nice to see this more vulnerable, more bashful side. It awakened something inside him that he rarely got to indulge since he was more on the submissive side himself.

“A-at least a-activate the privacy screen,” Corey muttered.

Castor stood from his seat, a glint in his eye. He lowered Corey’s hand from his lips to his crotch, bumping the outline of his hard cock against the knuckles. “SIBYL, would you be able to activate the privacy screen for us?” said Castor.

“I would be able to do so, yes,” chimed SIBYL in response, though she didn’t actually activate the privacy screen. “While Corey’s physical condition has experienced remarkable improvement ever since Fatima started treating him, I must advise that he refrain from any strenuous activity.”

“That’s alright, SIBYL,” said Castor, as Corey’s wrist twisted in his grip. He bit his lower lip to stifle the groan that nearly escaped him as Corey’s fingers traced at the outline of his cock. “You don’t think a blowjob would be too strenuous, would you?”

Withdrawal (A Hero Ensnared #4)

Posted on December 16, 2022December 16, 2022 by indieerotica

Marcus, A.K.A. the archvillain Imperious, is not a man that takes “no,” for an answer. When Castor refuses to surrender himself mind, body, and soul to Marcus’ service, he ends up locked in an enchanted filigree chastity cage.

While he is able to resist the temptation for a while, his body’s needs eventually drive him up the wall, and only one man can give him what he needs. Despite his better judgment he approaches Marcus, principles and morals discarded for the need that’s eating him up from the inside.

Withdrawal is an 8,000-word short story and part four of a four-part series.

Again, Marcus shook his head. “No,” he said. “I want you to give yourself to me. Body, mind, and soul. Serve me at and for my pleasure.”

Castor gulped. His cock twitched. “What? Like a sex slave?”

Marcus smirked. “Like a sex slave.”

For once, Castor was able to shut down the arousal. The shock was too much. He gawped at Marcus for a moment, his mind spinning at the thought. “W-what the hell?!” he said. “N-no way!”

Despite how far he’d fallen, he still had some scruples. Just because he’d let his penis corrupt him into a filthy pervert didn’t mean he wanted to serve as a villain’s fucktoy.

Not that the prospect wasn’t tempting. His cock certainly made no secret of that. Despite having come only minutes before, he was starting to chub up again, and all because of Marcus’ offer.

Castor shook his head. No. He had to focus. This was a step too far and he couldn’t believe part of him was seriously considering it.

He hadn’t fallen that far, had he? Just because he didn’t consider himself a hero anymore didn’t mean he didn’t give a shit about the cause anymore.

But the idea was just so hot. He and the tiny voice in the back of his head agreed on that. He had to at least admit that.

But just because it was hot didn’t mean he had to do it. No. No. No matter how hard the prospect made him, that was a step he couldn’t take.

Marcus chuckled. It was almost predictable that he’d enjoy the conflict raging inside Castor. A villain through and through, no matter how handsome he looked.

“Do you mean to tell me you are happy with the way things are?” said Marcus.

Castor’s cheeks took on a faint pink tinge. “W-what do you mean?” he stammered.

“Oh, you must be feeling it now,” said Marcus. “Guilt. Remorse. A sinking feeling in your gut. Not because you are a cock-obsessed pervert—I know you accept that and part of you, indeed, is actually quite proud of the fact—but because of what you have failed to do.”

Castor gulped audibly. Marcus’ insight proved once again to be unerringly accurate.

He did feel bad. Not because he’d played with himself and gooned out on his penis on the job, but because he’d ruined things for Corey as a result.

The only reason he wasn’t beating himself up over it was that Marcus had talked about rescheduling the date being a net benefit. Otherwise, he might well have hated himself into the next week.

Marcus grabbed Castor by the face, placing his thumb on his chin and hooking his index finger underneath. He forced him to look into his enchanting blue eyes as he said, “Are you satisfied with being a cock-addicted, porn-addicted loser that lets his friends down because he is too much of a reprobate to know even the slightest hint of restraint?”

A smirk tugged at the corner of Marcus’ mouth as he continued. “You and I both know this will only get worse. Degenerates like you only ever do. There will come the occasion when you goon on your batestick at the wrong time and hurt someone you love.”

Marcus’ blue eyes felt like they were boring into the very depths of Castor’s soul, where all his fears and insecurities lay. “Is that the life you want to live, pervert?” Marcus whispered, his voice like ice water pouring down the curve of Castor’s spine.

“N-no,” Castor gasped, tears brimming in his eyes, “No! Never! B-but I can’t join you.”

Marcus laughed as Castor felt something cold and hard cinch around the base of his cock. “I think you’ll find, Mr. Caldwell, I am not a man who is used to hearing the word ‘No.’ You will come around. One way or another.”

Castor looked down as Marcus released his chin. Just in time to watch the man’s hand fasten a tight filigree cage around his cock.

Addiction (A Hero Ensnared #3)

Posted on December 16, 2022 by indieerotica

The encounter in the forest haunts Castor. No matter how hard he tries, he can’t get those blue eyes out of his mind. He’d heard the stories but he’d never imagined the archvillain Imperious could leave such an indelible first impression.

He’s almost helpless to resist his body’s wants. Even when he has a mission of utmost importance, he can’t help but indulge his carnal nature—a nature that Imperious had exposed not too long ago.

Addiction is a 6,800-word short story and part three of a four-part series.

This was bad.

He needed to stop.

He needed to resist. Just this once.

He had to pull his hand out of his pants, fix his clothes, and look presentable. Corey’s date was due to arrive any minute now to pick him up. But his hard, swollen cock just felt too good to ignore.

And if there was anything he’d come to understand over the last month, it was that he was powerless to resist the insistent, needy throbbing of his arousal. Fuck.

There was no use fighting. He couldn’t win. He didn’t have the strength, the discipline, or the willpower.

Once upon a time—back when he’d been a real hero—he might have managed to put duty before self-pleasure. Not anymore. That was abundantly clear.

There was only one option now: surrender. He could struggle vainly for the next few minutes only to fail or he could just…let his cock take control.

That way, at least, there was the faint hope he’d finish in the few minutes he had left to spare. If he was lucky, he’d finish with enough time to spare to get all presentable again.

Reluctantly, Castor pulled his hand out of his pants. He unbuckled his belt and unzipped, sighing with relief as the tightness eased on his erection.

He looked down between his legs and licked his lips as he fished his cock out of his underwear. It twitched in the cool air, pre-cum dripping down the underside. It was a wonder he hadn’t yet made a wet spot in his pants.

Fuck.

Castor was so godsdamned horny. His cock was so godsdamned hard. He needed this so bad the first stroke alone produced a thrill of pleasure so powerful his mind went momentarily blank.

His breathing became shallower. His chest rose and fell rapidly, his eyes fluttering. He moaned as he worked his hand up and down the length of his shaft.

Voyeurism (A Hero Ensnared #2)

Posted on December 16, 2022 by indieerotica

Castor Caldwell, A.K.A. Phantom, retired from active superhero duty years ago for good reason. He’s just not suited to that life anymore. He much prefers the relative luxury of using his shapeshifting powers to stand in for the front-liners, making sure their secret identities stay secret.

When Tempest is called back to duty, however, Castor is called up from retirement to keep an eye on him just in case there are some lingering effects from the younger super’s month-long capture. Unfortunately for him, things only get worse from there as an encounter with a fallen hero reveals that things are not quite as they seem with Tempest.

Voyeurism is a 7,000-word short story and part two of a four-part series.

Castor squirmed in his restraints. His cock throbbed. There was now a sizable lump in the front of his suit and thanks to the way Luxus had tied him up, he had no way to hide it.

He felt like he was watching a cheap B-reel superhero porno, complete with the awful acting and hammy dialogue. It was so bad it went right back around to being hot and his obvious arousal made that fact readily apparent.

Imperious turned away from the action and faced Castor. “Do you understand now?” he said. “Why you are nothing like him?”

Castor gulped. He could guess what Imperious was getting at. And considering where those bright blue eyes were currently pointed, he was all but certain.

“Nothing to say for yourself?” said Imperious, a small smirk playing on his lips. “That is perfectly acceptable. Allow me to elucidate.”

Imperious walked up to Castor. Uncomfortably close.

Despite Castor being tied to the tree as to essentially be at eye level with Imperious, the latter seemed to nevertheless loom over him. There was just something so undeniably imposing in the sheer weight of presence Imperious threw around.

Castor’s inner thigh trembled as Imperious’ fingers drifted feather-light along the curve of his leg. He could feel the nails tracing thin lines on his skin as if the suit wasn’t there at all.

His breath caught in his throat as Imperious’ fingers drifted to his crotch. The archvillain cupped his balls with the tips of his fingers.

“You’re not a real hero, are you, Castor?” Imperious murmured.

Castor’s heart skipped a beat. “W-what kind of nonsense is that? F-fuck you! I am a real hero!”

Imperious smirked. He slipped his hand forward, letting Castor’s balls rest in his palm as he massaged them with his thumb. Castor had to suck in a breath to suppress the moan that threatened to spill from his lips at the sensation.

The corner of Imperious’ mouth twitched. “You cannot mean to say you really think so. You know, deep down, you are a sorry excuse for a hero.”

Castor’s cheeks burned. Just because he’d chosen to retire didn’t mean he was any less of a hero than Tempest was.

He’d shed blood, sweat, and tears in the name of justice. He’d done his time. He was just done with the tragedy of all of it.

He was a hero, still. He wouldn’t have stayed on with the Hall, otherwise. There were Supers all over the place that led normal lives, perfectly aware of their powers and in control of their own destinies. Castor was with the Hall because he wanted to help, still, just not by being on the front lines of the war against villainy.

Imperious traced a single finger up along the underside of Castor’s cock. “Right about now, I imagine you are trying to rationalize to yourself that you are still a hero. That I am wrong…”

Heat bloomed across Castor’s cheeks. It seemed Imperious had him dead to rights.

Indulgence (A Hero Ensnared #1)

Posted on December 16, 2022 by indieerotica

Castor flashed the broadest grin he could at Corey. “Now, now, Corey. Let’s not pretend you’re all pure and innocent either. You probably have some sort of fantasy about fucking yourself,” he said.

Corey leaned up, propping his torso up with his elbows against the mattress. “What if I did?” he said, voice dropping to a lower, huskier register. “You going to do anything about it? I bet you love to transform into me and jerk off in front of a mirror so you can watch me beating my meat.”

“Oh yeah. I love to edge your big cock while standing in front of the bathroom mirror. Did you know that you blush from your neck when you get turned on?” Castor purred.

Castor leaned forward, looking up to meet Corey’s gaze. He licked his lips. With a small grin tugging at the corner of his lips, he cast his gaze down.

Corey’s eyes followed Castor’s.

Hook, line, and sinker, Castor thought to himself and chuckled. Now that he had Corey’s attention where he wanted it, he rubbed the erection growing between his own legs.

“Gods,” Corey groaned. “I’m so fucking pent up.”

It was a little bit filthy, and maybe a lot crazy, but Castor had been banking on it. “Then maybe you could use a hand?” he said, feigning innocence. “Or a mouth?”

Corey sucked in a breath. He flicked his gaze out past Castor’s shoulder, at the door. “I shouldn’t—” Corey said, glancing back down between Castor’s legs. “I can’t possibly ask—”

Castor smiled. He grabbed Corey’s hand and raised it to his lips. He caught a finger in his lips and popped it in, swirling his tongue once around the tip. “You’re not asking,” he murmured, in a low and husky voice. “I’m offering.”

A bright pink flush bloomed on Corey’s cheeks. It was adorable, really. It was easy to forget that Corey was a little bit on the meeker side when his heroic alter ego, Tempest, was such a fucking badass. It was really nice to see this more vulnerable, more bashful side. It awakened something inside him that he rarely got to indulge since he was more on the submissive side himself.

“A-at least a-activate the privacy screen,” Corey muttered.

Castor stood from his seat, a glint in his eye. He lowered Corey’s hand from his lips to his crotch, bumping the outline of his hard cock against the knuckles. “SIBYL, would you be able to activate the privacy screen for us?” said Castor.

“I would be able to do so, yes,” chimed SIBYL in response, though she didn’t actually activate the privacy screen. “While Corey’s physical condition has experienced remarkable improvement ever since Fatima started treating him, I must advise that he refrain from any strenuous activity.”

“That’s alright, SIBYL,” said Castor, as Corey’s wrist twisted in his grip. He bit his lower lip to stifle the groan that nearly escaped him as Corey’s fingers traced at the outline of his cock. “You don’t think a blowjob would be too strenuous, would you?”

Building a Pack: The Complete Series 4-Pack Bundle

Posted on May 6, 2021 by indieerotica

This thrilling and sexy bundle collects all four parts of Ethan White’s Building a Pack series!

Included in this book are:

THE BITE: When his boyfriend of four years leaves him for a woman, Isaac is despondent. At his moment of greatest need, a stranger shows up with an offer: the power to make sure he never has to suffer like this again.

RESCUE: After receiving the bite from Gabriel, Isaac is awakening to the werewolf powers that are now a part of him. His first order of business is rescuing his boyfriend Kevin from the clutches of an enemy that has been forcefully converting gay men straight against their will.

PUNISHMENT: Even though Isaac has already forgiven him for their acrimonious break-up, Kevin still harbors guilt for the things he said and did. He insists that Isaac punish him for his actions. It’s the only way he can think of to atone for the pain he put Isaac through.

REDEMPTION: Henry is an ex-gay priest who takes pride in his work turning gay men away from a life of sin. He also happens to be the perpetrator Isaac, Kevin, and Gabriel have been tracking. When they collide, and it’s discovered that Henry is as much of a victim as the men he converted, Isaac saves him from the life of lies that he’d been forced to live.

Building a Pack: The Complete Series 4-Pack Bundle is a 28,800-word collection of previously published stories.

“I just don’t know where else to turn to…”

The earnest words of the prayer, spoken in words slurred with drink, were like a whisper in the breeze that wound through the halls of the temple to the Étrad Sídhthe. The attendants laboriously polishing the gilded statues of men in all types of ecstasy looked about as if perturbed by the sound. “Is that what I think it is?” said one, hanging from the ceiling in a sling of ropes whilst absentmindedly rubbing a statue’s gleaming bicep with a cloth and his crotch.

“None of this makes any sense! I just want him back…”

“I think it is,” said another of the attendants, cleaning the toes of a golden Adonis with his tongue. He turned his eyes to the vaulted ceiling, to the glimmering silks crossing from one side of the hall to the other, suspended from the tops of the marble columns that paraded down the length of the corridor.

“I’ll pay any price! I’ll give you anything you want! I just want him back…”

Gaining in strength and bolstered by the benediction of the temple’s attendants, the prayer thundered down the central aisle of the main chamber. The words were steeped in the kind of desperation known only to the most sincere of loves. Disciples of the Étrad Sídhthe in their leathers and sheer cloths looked up from their coupling. Even the Cáel Sídhe took notice.

Perched upon a dais where an altar should have been were two tall thrones. Atop one, Cáel draped his slight, effete body over one of the armrests. In that position, the bright pink veils he wore, that left very little to the imagination to begin with, revealed even more of his lithe form.

With the twitch of an eyebrow, the Cáel looked across to the man seated on the other throne. His eyes glowed with the light of divination as he sought the source of the prayer’s pain. When he found it, he gave the Brogda Sídhe a meaningful look and said, “Well…that’s not good. I’m tempted, but do we even want to touch this right now?”

“It’s definitely not good,” said Brogda. His deep, sensual baritone voice sent a shiver down the spine of every man in the room whose heart held even the slightest dreg of submissiveness. He leaned forward, his brows furrowed with thought.

The dignified purple toga edged in gold stretched across Brogda’s broad chest and bulging muscles as he considered the situation, and the prayer. “But I don’t think that we want to touch it. Not directly, at least. He’s declared war, but you know what it took last time. We need time to get ready.”

“But we are going to do something, right?” said Cáel, emphasizing his words with exaggerated gestures with his right hand. He would have used both hands, but his left was busy stroking the massive cock of the disciple perched on the other armrest of his throne. “This isn’t something we can just let go.”

Brogda leaned back with a small, wicked smirk. “Correct. Which means that we’ll have to use someone who is, on the surface at least, not directly affiliated with us.” He rested his palms on the ends of the armrests of his throne. The disciple that had been worshipping his feet doubled his efforts as Brogda’s mighty cock stirred to life. The front of Brogda’s toga tented upward, parting around the rock-hard pillar that was his erection.

Redemption (Building a Pack #4)

Posted on May 6, 2021 by indieerotica

Henry takes pride in the work that he does, helping young, misguided gay men find God and their inner heterosexual. During one such conversion session, proceedings are interrupted by uninvited guests.

Isaac, Kevin, and Gabriel have been on the trail of the man responsible for the conversions in the community and just so happen to catch the perpetrator red-handed, only to find out that Henry’s just another victim.

Everyone deserves a second chance, though, and with his newfound power, Isaac rescues Henry from the false life that had been forced onto him.

The creak of leather upholstery drew Henry’s attention. His driver, Manuel, was looking at him through the rear-view mirror. Manuel scratched the back of his head, glancing briefly outside the window. “Are you sure about this, padre?” said Manuel. “I don’t like how this place looks. I can drive you back to the church, no problem.”

“Thank you, Manuel,” said Henry, as they pulled up to the front building. The sidewalk was desolate. A plastic bag scraped across the pavement, caught in the wind. “I appreciate your concern, but this is something I must do. God wills it.”

Henry slid his fingers down the seatbelt and unbuckled it. He smoothed down the front of his cassock with one hand as he reached for his briefcase with the other. He stepped out of the car, briefly shivering in the cold.

Taking a breath to center himself, Henry walked over to the driver’s side of the car. He stooped down to the window as Manuel lowered it. “Are you really sure you can’t put this off, padre? Or do this somewhere else?” said Manuel. “Just say the word and I’ll drive you back, no charge.”

Henry laughed. “I’ll be fine, Mr. Enrique,” he said. He held out a hand. Manuel shook it, grip firm. “It was nice meeting you. You don’t have to wait for me. I’ll send you a message when I need a ride back to the parish. Oh, and I’d appreciate it if you kept this between us, Mr. Enrique.”

Manuel stared at the hundred-dollar bill that Henry had left in his hand. He looked up at the priest. “No, padre, I can’t accept this,” he said. “It’s too much!”

“Mr. Enrique,” said Henry, saying the words deliberately, “I would very much appreciate your discretion.”

Manuel gulped. He glanced at the bill and then back at Henry one more time before pocketing the money. “O-of course, padre,” he stammered. “Do you have any idea how long you’ll be? I might, uh, take a few fares after this.”

Henry shook his head. “Sorry, I don’t know for sure. I’ll message you when I’m done. And don’t worry. I know you need to make a living. I won’t mind waiting.” He patted the chassis of the car twice before taking a step back from the curb and gave Manuel a little wave as the cab drove away.

Once Manuel drove out of sight, Henry turned to face the building. He remembered what had been, once. A house of debauchery and sin in one of the city’s most active districts. A nightclub that not only encouraged fornication out of wedlock, but a kind most contemptible in the eyes of the Lord. Now here it stood, empty and condemned, as was proper.

The corners of Henry’s lips twitched into a little smile, knowing that he’d had a hand in shutting not just this awful establishment down, but the entire district of degeneracy that had once surrounded it. He liked to think that he had saved at least a few souls from damnation for his part. Today, Henry hoped, he’d be able to save yet another soul, just as he’d been saved fifteen years ago, when he’d been young, misguided, and lost.

Henry entered the building. The poorly-maintained hinges creaked as he pushed the wooden door open. It wasn’t his first time inside, but it never failed to amaze him how much the place had changed. He still remembered where the dance floor was, and how much time he’d used to spend there. He shook his head. What a distasteful memory.

Quickly, and with purpose, Henry crossed the floor to the back of the building. He entered the stairwell and climbed up to the now-empty offices at the top. From the landing, he went to the right-hand corridor and knocked on the third door on the left.

The door swung open. “You’re late,” said a voice. It belonged to a uniformed police officer about Henry’s age, with blond hair framing a handsome, youthful face, and vivid blue eyes. “We’ve been doing this every month for the last three years and you’re still late.”